#two fountains and a giant pot of it

[galaxywarp]

Lulu likes water.

[ikemenlibrary]

Bookmarked Dialogue (Ikémen Prince)

Pairing: Keith Howell x July (OC) Summary: Keith finds solace within the walls of a tiny bookstore, reveling in the love of the shopkeeper. This is their story.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Self deprecation on both sides

A note from the author: I had the privilege of writing this for @queengiuliettafirstlady for the Ikémen Prince Gift Exchange hosted by @sunnyikemen and myself. What started as a small cute fluffy fic blossomed into way more, and I enjoyed writing every second of it! I hope you enjoy this Julie! Thank you for giving me the opportunity to explore July and Keith's wholesome relationship!

“Can you read me a story?”

It started long ago, before either of them knew how deeply their feelings would expand over two countries. Keith was a visiting prince in Rhodolite, and July was managing a bookstore in town run by her uncle. 

She had noticed Prince Keith right away. As a citizen of Jade, she had heard stories of the gentle prince; so kind that even his maids gave him gifts randomly to thank him for his hospitality. From across the town square, with a fountain between them, Keith’s soft golden eyes met July’s green, and from that moment forward, she was a goner. Her heart panged harshly in her chest as his eyes followed her every move and July made sure to take her time arranging the flowers she had bought in town for the pots outside of the bookstore. She wanted to spend more time away from the inside, she wanted to use that time to admire Keith’s gentle smile as he shopped around the square, and only when he hopped in a carriage with the official Rhodolite crest - headed back to the castle, presumably -, did she return back inside for the rest of her duties. 

He had approached her the next day, bowing graciously as he entered the small and cluttered bookstore, leading July to curtsy awkwardly in the small space. With Keith’s giant form inside, there wasn’t much more room left for July to move around, much less greet the Prince with a proper welcome. He apologized profusely for the intrusion, a gentle blush on his cheeks as she brushed off his concerns with a warm and welcoming smile, introducing him to the bookshop.

Nevertheless, he offered her only kindness as he asked for book recommendations on the history of Rhodolite, and he found solace in her bright smile as July relaxed into her specialty, talking his ear off about all the various things she’s learned about since coming to help her uncle in the little bookstore.

In their short time together, they learnt a lot from each other; Keith learned that July had come from Jade, and was here out of the kindness of her own heart to help her elderly uncle, and in turn, learn more about herself. July learned that even though he was royalty, Prince Keith was as kind and courteous, if not more, than she had ever heard around town within the gossip mills.

“I enjoyed talking to you today,” Keith bowed once again, this time gently grasping July’s hand in his own as he kissed the top of it in a farewell. “Thank you for your company. Maybe next time, you could read me a story?” And then his eyes widened, and he rushed to cover himself. “But only if you want to, of course! If it’s any sort of intrusion, please just forget I asked you! I’m sorry.”

“It’s no problem at all, I’d be happy to. What kind of story, Prince Keith?” July fought to keep her silly grin off her face, the giddiness of that prospect almost ridiculous in her mind. 

“Your favorite book,”  for a moment, it seemed as the prince’s eyes darkened slightly, his soft smile dipping into an almost imperceptible smirk, but the moment July blinked, everything was the same as it was before. Maybe a trick of the light, or maybe she had just imagined it, but it was enough to have a chill run up her spine. Nonetheless, she curtsied to the prince once again, and sent him on his way with well wishes, his arms piled with books she insisted he take back to the castle with him, 

July spent that whole night scouring the meticulously organized bookshelves of her favorite stories, hoping to find one that Prince Keith would find interesting enough to grant her one of his comforting smiles that had her feeling weak in the knees. She had decided on a book of folklore from a country overseas, and tucked it away behind the counter so when - and if - the prince decided to come visit once more, she’d have it ready. 

***

Prince Keith returned a few weeks later, a bundle of blooming pink roses in his arms as he ducked inside, grimacing slightly and apologizing to July - or the door, she wasn't quite sure -  as he hit his head on the doorframe.

“Sorry, that was rather dreadful of me. I should’ve been more aware of my surroundings. That’s what happens when you’re a big lump, you always bump into things.” And before she could reply, he apologized once more. “And now I’m oversharing. Geez, I’m sorry.”

“That’s quite alright, Prince Keith!” July exclaimed, dropping into a curtsy. She had practiced in her small bedroom, watching her form in the mirror before bed every night. She wanted to be sure if the First Prince of Jade visited her bookstore, she would be able to properly greet him this time.

“It makes me happy to see you welcome me so warmly, but please, no need for formality. I couldn’t live with myself if I knew you went out of your way for me.” Keith bowed in return of her curtsy, and it brought a flush of heat through her body as she watched his hair flop over his eyes as he stood himself back upright. “I’m sorry if I gave the impression of otherwise, July.”

She rushed around the counter, drawing herself nearer the gentle prince, and bowed her head. “Of course you didn’t! Please, stop apologizing. I just wanted to make sure you felt welcome coming to visit once more.”

“I’m sorry I keep apologizing, I’m sure it’s dreadful listening to it.” Keith’s eyes were downcast, and July’s heart yearned to have her envelop his larger hand in his own to dissuade his worries. But, she was a mere commoner, that would be very unsavory to touch a prince like that in any setting that wasn’t unwarranted. “I wanted to apologize for taking so long to visit as well. I was away at the palace for some time with some duties. Oh, gosh, I did it again, I keep apologizing.” If his head could hang lower, it dropped at that admission, and July was quick to reassure him with a smile.

“It’s quite alright, Keith. Please don’t worry! It gave me time to select my favorite book to share with you.” She didn’t tell him that she had been waiting anxiously day by day, drumming her perfectly manicured fingers over the aged book cover, hoping that every time the bell rang, it was the Prince coming in to make good on his promise to return. 

“Oh, you found your favorite book to show me? That’s a lovely idea, I can’t wait to see what you decided on.” Keith had a gorgeous smile that lit up his face, his tawny brown eyes sparkling with interest.

“Well - yes. It was your idea after all.” July said, once again ducking behind the counter to grip the thick and heavy book, holding it up triumphantly.

“It was?” Keith’s eyebrows furrowed, before his eyes widened in shock, scrambling to cover up his confusion. “Yes, sorry. I remember now! I asked for you to show me your favorite book. And now I see it! Let me see… ah, folklore. I’ve heard good things, but haven’t read much.”

July looked at him, a glint in her eye as she continued explaining their last meeting. “I suppose it’s a good thing you asked me to read to you then. At least I didn’t find something you’ve read before.”

Prince Keith shook his head, his beautiful smile back on his face. “Nonsense. Even if it was a book I knew by heart, I’m sure it’d be even better coming from your beautiful lips.” He glanced down at his arms, cradling the bundle of roses he entered the bookstore with, and he held them out to July, clumsily pushing them into her embrace. “I almost forgot. I got these for you as an apology, since I was away from your shop for so long. I saw these in the town, and they reminded me of your lipstick. But now that I’m saying that out loud, I feel weird. Please accept my generous apology for coming off rudely.”

July hugged the de-thorned roses to her chest, the stems of the flowers matching the color of her dress - Keith noticed -, and she inhaled deeply, her eyes sparkling with happiness as her green gaze met Keith’s, and his heartbeat sped up as she smiled at him. “They’re gorgeous. Thank you Prince Keith.” As to prove her point, July took the partially wilted white roses out of the vase on the counter, laying them off to the side as she replaced them with the new, fuller and blooming pink roses.

Keith cleared his throat, anxiously pulling at his hair in front of his eyes, almost as if the harder he tugged, the more he could hide behind his thick and shaggy hair. “I wanted to ask you something. If you’re available to step away from the bookstore, would you be willing to walk around town with me? Maybe we could stop by a patisserie and you can read me some of the folklore you wanted to show me? But obviously if you’re not feeling up to it, or you’re busy, please just forget I asked!”

Before Keith could talk himself down a rabbit hole, July interjected. “I’d love to join you, Prince Keith. If you could just wait a moment, I can close the shop down for a bit while we go out together.” 

Keith breathed a sigh of relief, his shoulders slumping as the anxiety eased out with that singular exhale. 

He waited patiently as July flitted around, shelving the last few books and turning the open sign to the closed side. Keith’s eyes never left her beautiful form, and he felt ashamed for noting how her dress perfectly hugged her curves, following her bodice down to her waist. She was gorgeous, and whenever she sent a smile his way, he felt his hands grow clammy. 

At last, she turned towards Keith, a bright smile on her face. “I’m ready to go, let me just grab my shawl.” And before he could offer her his cloak, she grabbed her shawl, and opened the door to the tiny bookshop. “Make sure to duck a little this time, I don’t want you to hit your head again.”

Keith thanked her gratefully, and that one little smile he gave her had her yearning heart aching. He was so kind, so generous, and incredibly good looking. All the rumors she’d ever heard of the first Prince of Jade was true, if not an under exaggeration of his character. 

Keith led her to a pastry shop he knew about, and before July could even question it, he explained to her that Prince Licht and Prince Yves of Rhodolite had taken him there before, and it had some of the best macarons he’d ever had. When July heard the mention of macarons, she had exclaimed that those were some of her favorite sweets, and when Prince Keith offered to share a few of them between the two of them, she graciously accepted, finding a secluded table tucked into the back of the patisserie while he went and placed an order. 

“They said they’d bring out the macarons in just a few moments, as well as some tea that would nicely compliment the flavors.” Keith said, hunching his shoulders as he slid into the other chair - which looked ridiculously small compared to him. “Sorry to make you wait, thank you for your patience.”

“Don’t worry about it, thank you for ordering some stuff for us to enjoy together!” July exclaimed, her hands moving to subconsciously trace the title of the book she had placed on the table. 

Keith’s eyes followed her movement, motioning over to the book. “What book did you decide to share with me?” 

July blushed, worrying her lip between her teeth as she flipped between all of the pages, only looking up at the prince once she had made the silence stretch long enough that it felt awkward on her end. But she knew it didn’t matter, Prince Keith was kind, and he was patiently awaiting her response, the curiosity sparkling in his eyes. “I brought something that had been transported across seas. I had to translate it to be able to read it… but I thought you’d enjoy that.” She responded, spreading her hands over the book cover, almost to protect from any sort of negative reaction from the prince.

“You were able to translate this book?” Keith asked, sitting up and seemingly forgetting about his large stature on the smaller chair. At July’s nod, he rested his hand on top of hers, a tender smile gracing his lips. The touch, combined with his tawny gold eyes searching her face, had July’s heart beating in her throat, and she fought the urge to pull away from him to protect her heart from any hurt that was inevitable to come with falling for the prince, instead giving herself into his touch. “That’s amazing. I don’t think I’d have enough patience to sit and learn another language, let alone translate a book in my free time.”

July smiled, pleased at the praise Keith was instilling on her. “Well, when you work in a bookstore, this sort of thing is what you do when there’s no customers around.” Keith’s gaze never left her, and she cleared her throat to try and brush off the prickles on her skin. “Would you like me to read you one of the stories? They’re short, they only take about five minutes each.”

“I’d be honored if you’d be willing to dedicate that time to me, July. Thank you.” Keith graciously bowed his head, and at that time, the waitress came over to deliver their treats to the table and the prince thanked her profusely, only stopping once he noticed the flushed and awkward look on her face. “Ahem, sorry. Thank you once more, have a great day.” He ushered her off after that, and July bit her lip to keep the giggles bubbling in her throat to escape. And then they settled in, Keith bringing his chair closer to July, a shy smile on each of their faces as their shoulders brushed when July opened the book. Keith found her voice calming as she spoke, reading each line in the strange language before tracing her neat handwriting on the side of the book, reading the same line in English afterwards. July forced herself to keep her voice even, and her eyes forward. She could feel Keith’s gaze following her every move as she continued to read, but she kept going, the warmth of his shoulder pressed against her own urging her to continue reading. 

The story was one that always intrigued her, about a woman who showed up in a town one day who was a hard worker, and worked on a farm in exchange for a place to stay. Everyone liked her, but some thought she was odd because she was kind to everyone, yet stuck to herself. One day, she was invited out late in the evening by the farmer she worked for, and instead of accepting she declined - like she’s done every time. The farmer was so curious about where she went instead of going out with people in the town that he followed her, and she led him through the woods, to a cave where he discovered there that she had a whole other life as a queen of elves. The ending of the story changes depending on the author, but this one ended with her accepting the farmer as one of their own, and having him join them in an elven celebration.

Keith hung onto July’s every word, his heart beating in his ears as she spoke. It was as if she understood him, this story telling her more about Keith than he felt he could ever tell her himself. He wished he could tell her that he related to the story, but once she finished, all he could muster up was a shaky smile. “That was a very interesting story. What was it that intrigued you to begin with?” 

Keith watched as July reached for a rose macaron, her pink lips about the same color of the treat and he licked his lips, unsure if it was because he was hungry or because he watched her plush lips brush against the baked good. She chewed and swallowed before responding. “I just liked the idea that it was okay to show someone who you trust completely the real you, and to be accepted for all that you are, even if it’s more strange than anyone could imagine.”

“I think that’s a really good way to think about it…” Keith said softly, sipping on the herbal tea. “I’d like to find someone who I can share myself completely with some day.”

July’s eyes met his own, more intense than any other time before. She was completely serious when she responded, “I would like that too, Prince Keith.”

***

During his time in Rhodolite, Keith continued to visit July in the bookshop, dousing her in flowers and perfumes and all the sweets he could carry in his long arms. Over their time together, Keith found himself missing her when they were apart, and July felt the same, her heart speeding up every time he walked through the door, ducking so he wouldn’t hit his head like the second time he came to visit. 

They exchanged countless book recommendations, and bonded over the books they grew up reading in Jade. He always accompanied her on her half day break, treating her to a small lunch and tea. She always insisted on paying, but the prince always brushed her hand away with a kind smile, and she never had the heart to fight him on it because he always seemed so pleased when she accepted.

Over their time spent together, July had found herself absolutely smitten with the gentle prince, every moment that passed when they were together only confirmed the feelings she felt for that man, and even though she knew they could never be, she spent her time away daydreaming about what it would be like to hold him in her arms and press kisses on top of his thick, shaggy hair.

“July, were you listening to me?” Keith’s voice broke her out of her trance, and she shook her head, a bashful smile across her face. “That’s alright. I was just saying that I brought you my all time favorite book, and there was a line I wanted you to read, and tell me what you thought.” He handed her the book, and she thumbed at the pages curiously, opening up to the page that was bookmarked. “The 17th line down, it should be a line of dialogue.”

July used her finger to count down the lines, and sure enough, there was a line of dialogue, lightly underlined with ink, right where Keith had said it’d be. “‘And sure enough, I realized eventually that I was in love with you.’” She read out, her voice breathless as she glanced at Keith.

Before she could continue reading, Keith continued the line of dialogue on his own. “‘And I realize that it may be too late, but I couldn’t let you go on without knowing.’”

July’s eyes filled with unshed tears, unsure if he was just referring to an incredibly romantic line in a book because he knew she loved romance novels, or if there was deeper meaning in his - the book's - words. “Prince Keith?”

Keith stepped closer, his eyes soft, a serious expression on his face as he cupped her cheek stroking gently under her eye with his thumb to catch one of the tears that had managed to fall. “July,” he breathed out. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Another tear fell, this time from her other eye. Keith couldn’t brush it away, yet his eyes followed it as it tracked down her gorgeous face. “Tell me what?” She whispered, her green eyes almost a stormy gray with the tears filling her lash line.

“I didn’t know how to tell you that I’ve fallen in love with you.” Keith responded, now cupping her face in gloved hands. He wished he had taken his gloves off, but he’d never been one to think things through to this extent. He wanted to feel her soft face against his bare hands, hands that didn’t deserve to hold someone as gently as he was. “Say something, please.” He pleaded. 

July let out a shaky sigh, and finally felt like she could breathe once more, his confession hanging between them like the oxygen they were breathing together. “You could have anyone you wanted… you’re so gentle, and kind. And yet, you chose a weirdo like me. You chose a commoner.”

Keith leaned in, pressing his forehead against her own. “I chose the most wonderful, and kind woman I’ve ever met. You’re anything but common to me. If you’re a weirdo, then so am I.” He laughed slightly, and that sound warmed July’s heart. “There’s no one I’d rather be a weirdo with than you. I love you.”

This time, there was no mistaking it. He was confident in himself, and professing his love to her, his sweet breath fanning over her face with every word he spoke. “I love you too, Keith.” She replied, and before she could say more, Keith closed the small gap between their lips. It was awkward and clumsy, probably one of his first - if not his first - kisses, and even though their noses bumped together, July could feel Keith’s sincerity in the way he was breathing in the air she exhaled, like she was his living life force and if they separated, he simply couldn’t bear it.

He loved her, and she loved him back. 

Although there’d be tribulations to get to, they both knew that they’d get through it together, because they had each other.

***

Keith’s shoulders were slumped as he walked into his and July’s shared bedroom. He had been busy, since Jade was hosting a union ball with Rhodolite, the first prince was stretched thinner than he normally was, and he was ready for a night away from the princely duties bestowed upon him.

July was laying in bed, a book nestled on her lap, the oil lamp burning bright in the otherwise dark night. Keith had to squint; he wasn’t sure if she was asleep, or just resting her eyes, but when he sat on the edge of the bed to take off his shoes, she stirred, rubbing her eyes sleepily. “Hi darling,” she greeted him, scooting over in the bed so she could wrap her body around his upright one, her chin resting on his shoulder. “Another late night.”

Keith kissed her forehead, a little hum of appreciation leaving her lips at his affection. His second boot was toed off, set near the edge of the bed, and he was ready to wrap her in his arms and enjoy some quality time with July. “Yes, there won’t be many more before it’s over, my love. Did you fall asleep while waiting for me?”

She shook her head, knowing her lover was going to start beating himself up if she didn’t dissuade his worries. “No, just resting my eyes. I had a headache, but I wasn’t sleeping.”

Keith startled at that, quickly pulling off his gloves to feel at her forehead. There was no fever, and his shoulders dropped in relief. “If you wait right here, I’ll go and mix you an herbal tea that should help and–”

July tugged at his hand, stopping Keith in his tracks. “I don’t need any tea. I just need to rest. Come, darling, and lay with me.” Her pleading caused Keith to relent, allowing her to guide him under the covers, his newly washed pajamas soft against his skin. He had been working all day, and his back was aching from sitting hunched over documents, yet when he wrapped July in his arms, it was like every bad feeling from the day had left his body. It was quiet between them, their breathing had lined up, and everything felt back to normal for the both of them. “Keith,”

“Yes, love?” He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head as he responded.

“Could you read me a story?” Her voice was small, and her eyes were closed, the prince noted as he looked down at her. He had picked up the book that was laying in bed with them, and with a fond smile, he picked up at the bookmarked page, starting the 17th line down. 

“‘And sure enough, I realized eventually that I was in love with you.’” Keith read out quietly, and July smiled, nuzzling farther into his embrace as he continued. “‘And I realize that it may be too late, but I couldn’t let you go on without knowing. Meeting you was the best thing that has ever happened to me.’ Tessa spoke with tears in her eyes. She watched forlornly as the prince boarded his carriage, headed back to the castle far away. In that moment, Tessa was heartbroken, staring after the retreating carriage. Little did she know, the prince was also heartbroken inside the carriage, yet his hand in marriage was devoted to someone else, and he refused to start something with the love of his life before he broke off the engagement with the princess of the country his parents were trying to align with.”

Keith continued to read the book as July’s breathing evened out, and although she was asleep, he continued to read late into the night, the hopeless romantic in him not wanting to stop until the pair was reunited. Only once the prince and the commoner found solace in each other's arms, did he lean over and turn off the dim burning oil lamp and snuggle into the loving embrace of his lover. 

Keith couldn’t even begin to imagine how hard it was for the Prince to stay away from the woman he loved, even if she was a commoner. If he had to give up any moment of finding solace in July’s green eyes, Keith knew he wouldn’t be able to pull himself away from her. One tremble of her perfect lips would have him cupping her face and wanting to soothe away all her doubts.

But that was Prince Keith, a weakling. And he only wished one day he could be as admirable as the prince in the book, and set an example for the rest of his country about what true love should look like.

Unlike a book, true love has no bounds, and at least that’s something that Keith can always promise to July. He may not yet be a role model to his kingdom, but the citizen’s of Jade will always know that their First Prince followed his heart, no matter what direction it may lead.

[mistys-blerbz]

Keep Your Eyes On Me • Chapter 22

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x F!Mitchell!OC

Summary:

Elizabeth “Ghost” Mitchell is the daughter of what some would say is the most decorated Naval Captain. But when she is called back to North Island for a special mission she is forced to face her past loves, past hurts, and past losses.

Warnings:

violence, swearing, PTSD, war, mental illness & probably more

Word Count: 4,099

Status: 22/23

Cross Posted: A03 • Wattpad

Story Masterlist

It was cold and it was wet. The sound of soft cries and whimpers could be heard as Elizabeth slowly drifted awake, feeling the cold wet floor against her bare skin. She looked around confused before realizing where she was. Was it all a lie? She was home… she was with her family. They knew she was alive. But instead, it was another cruel joke. 

She slowly stood, covering her figure with her hands and wishing she was home. But alas. Her brain was a dick. She watched as her torturer walked through the door. His normal cold evil smirk was on his face as he came in to commit more war crimes. Her head hung low as he began, her screams ringing through the cell.

She jolted awake and her eyes immediately went to the time: 3:30 am. She sighed softly before letting out a startled groan at the happy kisses of Delta, the Doberman that Jake and Liz had adopted a few months ago. She gave the pup love before looking over at an open-mouthed snoring, mustached Jake Seresin. She smiled softly, leaning over and giving him a soft kiss on the cheek before climbing out of bed. It was a normal routine for her: wake up from trauma, get comforted by Delta, then head downstairs to write in her journal and do her normal bible study. 

She wasn't sure how much time passed. She just noticed the fact that Jake was making his way downstairs earlier than normal. He walked over to her and kissed her softly. 

“You know, I think I should have pulled an all-nighter. Wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed.” He moved to the kitchen counter to put a pot of coffee on. 

“Why’s that? You know I like cooking for you.”

“Well yeah, but I wanted to do it for you today. Besides it's your birthday today.” He looked back at her, observing the confused look on her face as she picked up her phone to look at the date. 

July 29, 2021. Her 35th birthday. 

“Please tell me there isn’t something big planned…”

“No, don't worry, I didn't plan anything,” he hummed as she stood. She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. He gently gripped her waist before leaning down and kissing her again. The two had a soft morning before both got ready to head to the north island. Elizabeth had taken the role of a TOPGUN instructor. This would be her second session of classes. Her first graduating class was definitely a trial from God. It made her realize how much of a brat she was when she was their age. It also made sense why her father was kicked out so quickly. 

She stood in front of the giant picture of Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazanski. Day one of being an instructor. She had been told she would be a good school teacher, but people always implied children under the age of 18. Not a bunch of 20-year-olds. She sighed softly before walking over to the water fountain. She sipped the water before standing up straight and raising an eyebrow at the pilot that suddenly appeared, leaning against the wall next to her. 

“May I help you, lieutenant?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, miss,” the boy started. “Was wondering if you were doing anything later. Saw you around and thought someone as good-looking as you would look good on someone as good-looking as me,” the man said confidently.

Elizabeth recognized the boy from the file of students. She wasn't happy in that moment to not be in normal uniform but professional civilian clothes instead. The boy had blonde hair and blue eyes. Honestly, his confidence and cocky attitude reminded her of a young Jake. However Jake had much better game.

“Wow, charming,” she mumbled before walking off and shaking her head. She walked into Warlock's office who gave her a soft smile. She saluted and he told her to be at ease. 

“You look nice today.”

“What is it with pilots inevitably embarrassing themselves in front of their instructors without knowing they are doing so?”

“It's an inevitable hazard of TOPGUN.”

“I mean my father full-on flirting with one of his, Jake throwing my dad out of a bar, and then me. HAH! Well, you know that story well,” she said, rubbing her face. She grew red thinking about the time she was a complete idiot in front of the man in front of her. Warlock smiled softly as he stood. 

“I would ask which one of your lucky students you are referring to but I'm sure once inside, I will find out, shall we?”

She smiled and nodded, following him down the hallway to a room oh so familiar. She listened as a familiar voice explained what was happening. Coyote was one of the instructors now that he had a blooming family. Elizabeth walked through the door, her bale flats not being very dramatic but still. She turned to face the group, smirking lightly at the embarrassed face of Prince. 

As the class went on and she explained different tactics and ways of survival, it was obvious the group of kids didn't understand how easy it was to be trapped. 

“Lt. Mitchell,” said one of the girls. 

“Ghost. Yes, Matchstick?”

“I'm sure I'm not the only one who has heard of you stealing an enemy fighter-”

“Bro, why have an instructor teach us about this when she's not even gonna fly?” one of the girls said to the guy next to her quietly causing them to chuckle.

Coyote moved forward to defend her but one look at the smirk on her face told him to back off. What was it with these kids and challenging their instructor?

“Well, I think that I'm done for the day. If you have questions for me, you can come up and ask. As for the rest of you, I think you’re itching to get in the air.” She stepped to the side, walking over to Warlock, who observed the aviators as they excitedly got out of the room. One or two staying behind to ask questions to Elizabeth. 

“I'm sorry, Matchstick, I didn't get to answer your question.”

“I was wondering what it was like flying the su-57,” she said with a smile. “I know that has nothing to do with why you are instructing us but, I've heard 6th gens are magical.”

“It's like flying on ice. I wish I was able to fly it under different circumstances. Would have been fun to see all she could do.”

After answering a few other questions, the room was empty except for Coyote, Warlock, and Ghost. The young woman thought about the words her students had said as she looked over at Warlock. 

“Ghost, I think it would be good for you to suit up. Day one of training, as you know, includes some surprises.”

“That sounds like a lovely idea,” she said with a grin. 

Elizabeth remembered the faces she got when back in the classroom the next day. They listened way more closely to what she needed to teach. 

“Happy birthday to you!”

“Cha cha cha!”

“Happy birthday to you!”

“Cha cha cha!”

“Happy birthday Ghost Mitchell~ Happy birthday to you!!!”

She watched as her new batch of students plus Jake and some others presented her with a gorgeous cake with sparklers and a big 35 on it.

“Awwwwww~ I thought I said I didn't want you planning anything,” Liz said before blowing out the candles causing the kids to cheer. 

“I didn't. Our class did,” Jake said with a wink causing her to chuckle. He had decided to move on to being a TOPGUN instructor as well in order to be closer to Liz. 

With her instructing, she was still able to fly occasionally for the Navy. Warlock was gracious enough to allow it. Besides, her and Jake as a team was certainly an effective way of teaching. She loved her family at TOPGUN. But when she wasn't there, she did some offhand work with NASA. And when she wasn’t working at NASA, she had taken over Pa’s shop. Ma had passed away while she was captured, and Pa was in the hospital for newly developed cancer. So it was the least she could do. 

She kept herself as busy as possible. It was one of the things that helped her with her mental state. Sure, it probably wasn't the healthiest but she didn't want to completely shut down or hurt the ones around her. 

Gong on leave was always nice. This time, Jake was taking her home again to see his family for Thanksgiving. The heavy snow of Amarillo, Texas was comforting. It reminded her of the Wyoming snow she grew up on. It wasn’t the first time she had been down to the family ranch. The first time was during Christmas of last year. She and Mr. Seresin hadn't gotten along very well. But after an unfortunate event where the two were stuck out in the wilderness, she proved that she was capable of meeting his impossible standards. 

Liz nodded at the older man who only gave her a nod back in mutual respect. The house was swarming with Seresin’s. The kids ran around with Jake running after them. Liz hung out in the kitchen with Mama Seresin and the girls, holding one of the babies on her hip as she put a pie in the oven. She let the baby down to run off with his siblings before walking to the bar and getting a drink so she could hide in the corner. She felt safest in corners. She could read the room. She made note of exits and who had a weapon on their hip. That was one thing she enjoyed about Texas. She could carry and nobody would bat an eye. 

After dinner was done, everyone went to the living room to watch the football game. She stayed in the kitchen to clean up. The shouting and general uncomfortableness of meeting extended family made her not want to leave the comfort of the warm, sweet smelling kitchen. She felt strong arms wrap around her waist as soft kisses were placed on her clothed shoulder. 

“Hey, I wanna show you something,” Jake said softly. She looked over her shoulder at him. His big green eyes made her melt a little as she nodded.

She followed him outside, slipping her boots on and slipping her cowboy hat on her head. They walked to the barn and tacked up some horses. The snow hadn't stopped falling. The two rode through the forest, Jake with a rifle on his back in case there were any lions about. The ride was peaceful. She appreciated he knew when her social battery had depleted. And his family was rather animated. 

“Your nieces and nephews love you so much,” she hummed, breaking the comfortable silence. 

“Yea? They're cute, aren't they… little trouble makers but that's what uncles are for,” he said with a laugh. They turned a corner and in the distance, there was a quiet cabin. The inside was already all lit up as Jake stopped, causing her also to stop her own horse. 

“What is that?”

“The thing I wanted to show you,” he said with a grin, his tan hat covered in white snow. She smiled back at him. “I figured you needed a little getaway.”

“First one there is the better pilot,” she said with a cackle, immediately pushing her horse to move. 

“Hey!!” Jake called out from behind her as the cold air hit their faces racing fast towards the cabin. Elizabeth climbed off her horse as Jake slowed his horse down. She watched as Jake climbed off his horse, a small smile growing to a laugh as Jake chased after her. The two horses looked at one another before slowly walking towards the small stable that had about 4 heated stalls. Jake tackled her to the snow causing her to scream and laugh before she flipped them, pinning him down. 

“Don’t be a sore loser, Seresin,” she said with a snort. She climbed off of him, doing a little ‘I won’ dance.

He laid there observing her with a grin before climbing up off the ground to follow her to the stable to undress the horses. Once that was done, Jake began walking to the cabin. Suddenly, a snowball hit the back of his head. He paused before turning. There was a certain glint in his eye that Elizabeth hadn’t seen before. She gasped then ran for cover. 

“Oh ho ho, you are messing with the wrong cowboy,” he said, really letting his mostly hidden southern drawl out. This caused her to squeal as she quickly made more balls to throw. Running from cover to cover, the two fought for what had to be a good half an hour before they were too cold to stay outside. The two love birds laughed and stumbled inside. “Go get changed. I’ll start up the fire,” Jake instructed. 

“Yes commander,” she hummed back causing him to smile a little more, if possible. She padded into the bedroom, noticing some of her clothes already there. He must have been planning this already. Made sense why the lights were on. Once dressed, she walked back out as he walked in to change into warm dry clothes himself. 

The two eventually settled on the couch in front of the fire, snuggling to keep warm as they just chatted about anything and everything. After a moment, they sat in silence as Jake flipped through the channels on the tv. Liz looked up at him. Her eyes wandered over every detail of his face. She leaned up kissing his lips softly, her hands rubbing at his chest. He stopped clicking through channels. She kissed him a little deeper before shifting to straddle him once again. 

“What are-” he mumbled against her lips. 

“Shh” she hummed, opening her eyes to look into his. “I-” kiss “love-” kiss. His hands gripped her waist tightly before closing his eyes, savoring the soft kisses she was giving him. “you-” kiss.

As she whispered softly, his hands moved to her hips in order to pull her closer. He opened his eyes, slowly searching every inch of her face before the two crashed their lips together again, soft desperation now unleashed. 

They were finally truly alone and comfortable again. Sure they had kissed, and intimately kissed. But there seemed to be a brick wall that kept them, or her, from moving forward. She was terrified that she would wake up and nothing would be real. That Jake wasn’t real. As they kissed, things got more and more desperate. Clothes were being flung from place to place and suddenly, they were on their floor. Jake kissed and bit and gnawed on her neck, then her chest, then her breasts. 

It was almost overstimulating as they touched and loved one another. Neither of them could get enough as their moans rang through the warm cabin. Their intimacy was passionate and deep. They went until they were both too tired to continue before falling asleep in each other's arms.

The next morning was soft. Elizabeth stretched frowning when she didn't feel Jake next to her. She peaked her eyes open to see that he in fact wasn't there. She sat up, using the blanket to cover her bare chest. She slowly got out of bed, struggling a bit to walk but smiling a bit at the thought of the night before. Still wrapped in her blanket, she waddled her way to the living room kitchen area. The smell of breakfast filled the air. She got excited, expecting to turn the corner and see Jake, only to see nobody but the plate on the table with a note. She walked over to the plate that was still steaming and picked up the note, smiling softly at the doodles before opening it. 

My dearest love, goddess of the sky and ghost of the earth, I have gone to gather more wood so my fiery queen can stay warm. I shall be back in a few.

She shook her head at the note, laughing lightly before sitting and eating her food. She watched the news as she waited for Jake to come back to the cabin. Some time passed and she got up to stoke the fire a bit before peaking outside. She was beginning to worry that he hadn't come back yet. She made two cups of coffee before slipping on her boots, being sure to make sure the blanket was wrapped around her tightly before braving the cold sunny outside. She took a peek into the stable in case he was there and noticed one of the horses was gone. 

Luckily, she heard the distant thumps of an ax hitting a log and decided to follow the sound of that. After a little bit of walking, the sound stopped, making it a little bit harder to navigate. However, she made her way to the small clearing where it was obvious Jake had been cutting wood. He was nowhere to be seen but the horse was there rubbing his face against a nearby tree. She spotted footprints and followed them to a beautiful overlook where Jake was sitting on a log, looking over the valley. It reminded her a lot of the valley back at the reservation. 

“You had your dearest goddess worried,” she called, causing him to jump before holding his chest and looking over at her. 

“Well you just scared the living soul from my body,” he said. He looked up at her with a smile, making her smile back. She handed him his coffee. 

“Here’s some coffee, warm you up,” she hummed before sitting down on the other log. She sipped her coffee as the town below began to come to life. 

“You should be in clothes… honestly never knew I would say such a thing,” Jake hummed as he drank his hot beverage. Elizabeth snorted lightly, shaking her head. 

“Why when I theorize you would just take them off of me again?” 

“Aah, fair point.”

The two giggled at one another, feeling like little kids again. Liz eventually leaned over, laying her head on Jake's shoulder. The sound of the morning birds filled the air causing the beauty of the land to be enhanced. 

“You know, I remember the day I lost you… you were right there. I was right there. But then you were gone. Me, Bradley, and Mav fought so hard for you. And when we got the news that you and John had been labeled as Killed in Action… I couldn’t face it. I almost didn't go to your funeral because I hated admitting that you were gone,” he said, his voice catching a bit as he spoke. Liz adjusted herself, resting her hand on his shoulder and setting the coffee down on the snowy ground so she could lift up Jake’s face. He looked at her, smiling softly.

“You don’t have to get into this if you don’t want to, my love,” she said softly, leaning in to kiss his forehead. He leaned into her touch before pulling away. 

“It’s alright, sunshine. I want to,” he hummed. He then stood and walked in front of her to look over the horizon again. After a minute, he turned to look at her. “You have been the woman for me for a long time. I remember finding out we were going through aviation school together and feeling absolutely shocked. Who knew a one night stand would turn into a on and off friendship and rivalry. To be honest, I hated you for a while. It wasn’t until I caused us to crash that I understood you more. You were so guarded and only seemed to smile when Bradley was around. I realized that what I thought was hate was just misunderstanding. I didn’t truly hate you at all.”

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, unsure where he was going. 

“To be fair, you were insufferable. I had never met someone as cocky and inconsiderate than you at the time,” she said bluntly, causing him to smutter out a laugh and shake his head. 

“You know, I can’t argue with that one bit.” He rested his hands on his hips before continuing. “After a while, seeing you sit by yourself when Bradley graduated, me and Javy made it our mission to be your friends. And let me tell you, you… what was that movie quote… uh,” he stumbled, scratching his head. He was rambling. He probably sounded stupid. The light laugh of Elizabeth confirmed that for him. “I don't know what I’m saying…”

“Take your time, I wanna hear…” Liz cooed. She found this entirely amusing and adorable. Jake stood there for a while, before starting once again. 

“Elizabeth… you are the love of my life. For a year, I tried to move on. I went on dates. Got set up on dates, and every time, all I could think about was how I had lost out on the perfect woman for me. I remember you had always talked to me about how you never wanted to get married. I think you were a little drunk when you told me you never thought you could be with someone because of how broken inside you were.”

She remembered this. Operation Desert Storm. His VFA and hers collaborated. It was the first time seeing him since graduating the academy. Her and a bunch of others drank until they couldn't anymore without giving themselves alcohol poisoning. It was a moment of weakness for her. Everyone was talking about their love lives and she let that little part of her mind escape through the cracks the alcohol had made in her brick wall. 

“I remember thinking how there was so much more inside that beautiful head of yours. And that deep yearning in my heart that wanted to try and change that. To show you that you weren't alone and while you may have been broken, that didnt mean there isn't someone out there that could be there for you and love you for everything that you were.”

He walked closer and knelt in front of her, his hands fiddling with something before he pulled out the dark velvet green box. Liz looked at the box, eyes widening when she realized what was happening. She looked up at him. He had some tears in his eyes. 

“I bought this that day that Javy bought his ring for Patricia… I couldn't help myself…” He opened the box, revealing the ring that was a distant memory. 

“What are you doing…” she mumbled softly.

“I'm doing something that I wish I could have done so much sooner. I was too afraid of admitting my feelings for you for so long. And we always drifted apart. Elizabeth Bly Mitchell, you will forever be the only woman I want in my life. I've watched you grow, I've watched you hurt, and I've watched you thrive. If marriage is not what you want, I understand. At the very least, please take this ring as a promise that I’ll always be with you. Through thick or thin. Through happiness or despair. But I ask, will you marry me?” 

Elizabeth looked down and saw the moss agate ring. Her heart was pounding. But she never had this much clarity in a moment before. They always say that you will know when you are with the one. And in that moment, it was like there was a giant neon sign that was telling her what to say.

She gently reached her hand out for him to slip the ring on. He looked up into her eyes as he slipped it on. She never knew she would be one of those girls who squealed when getting proposed to. It wasn’t until recently that she thought she would ever get married. But the squeal that left her lips was shocking. It was better when she tackled him and kissed him deeply, making him laugh against her lips. The two rolled around in the snow a little as they laughed before settling. She looked at her ring-adorned hand before looking back at Jake. He just smiled down at her before slipping his cowboy hat onto her head with a mischievous grin. She laughed more as the two decided the walk back would be too long to wait to have more… fun.

Authors note: one more chapter!! cant wait!

Editor(s): @delicatenightfury

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[siremasterlawrence]

Hypnosis, A Intoxicating Obsession

Luke Hemsworth is having a party on a boat In the middle of the ocean without most of his family a wedding is upon them.

The day is beautiful the sunlight radiating on to us from above, the wind blowing across the sea.

Everything feels right especially since I might have snuck on board without a ticket or a excuse.

I unfortunately has to use the cabins a make

shift laboratory to coconut the specially ill

time surprise.

Lying of course I steam roll in to the kitchen stealing a uniform from a unintended victim with slam of a door to his face.

Once no one is near the punch ball I throw

in a concoction of mine in to the giant

metal container.

Nothing else matters to me except the drink mixes well the ball explodes inside finally expanding.

I take a cup of the original mix path then throw it out and drink it with nauseous affect.

Everyone’s attention turns to me eye balling the glass cups I fill up for them and slowly one by one they are intoxicated.

“Excellent! Phase one is a go, and I have my volunteers.”

“Everyone! Connect the pipes to the water fountain.”

“You four return it to above board and prep it.”

“On my command you will lift the lever”

“You two deliver those Hypno drug lace champagne glasses.”

“Once that is in affect mwahahaha “

“The drink meets glass”

“The bubbles rise “

“Well it was nice knowing you “

Like busy bees they attend to the task at hand assign by me and i mischievously but well calculated make my move.

Captain Anderson, Co-Captain Tike and first mate Jake are quite grateful for my help .

I offer them drinks filling the champagne glasses to the coffers and leaving them in peace.

Phase two is complete I give the signal to my crew assuring the bottom knob on the fountain to spike up.

The drink blast out of the top flowing down to the base people as per usual so simple minded are astonished.

Rolling my eyes I can see all three of them

The Hemsworth Brothers scoop up the sweet taste of victory.

The smell is even more intoxicating luring each passenger closer tell it addled their

minds.

No one notices Chris growing more sleep by the minute with very efficient effort he is vanishing in to the night to @MCTF21

Luke is not anything of my concern being sold off to the highest bidder who has a lot of plans invested in his career.

“Congrats Sir”

“Thank you !”

“Enjoy Luke”

“Oh! I will”

“Have plans for him”

“Just wait and see”

“The gift keeps giving “

“Liam you are all mine”

“You will be brought back to the land of the living with new vision of me.”

“Liam wake up! Liam”

“LIAM”

“Oh! Uh!”

“This headache”

“I must hav partied”

“Poor guy!”

“Who are you?”

“A better question is who are you?”

“I…I don’t know “

“Yes you do”

“Remember “

“Mr. Hemsworth”

“Yes Sire”

“You are arriving “

“Back on the same vibration as me”

“Everything is copacetic “

“Everything is right in the world”

“Sir Yes Sir”

The end

Good Bois Go Bad

Luke Evans is one of my many hot celebrity crushes I had to have him running to a store to by a few ingredients.

I open a cabinet in my bedroom lifting a cauldron out of it and I place it on the counter with wooden spoon in the middle.

I turn on some music switching up the dial to the radio letting it play as the volume rises I play a particular song.

The music fills the room going in sync with my movements I am dancing to my room.

One arm in the air I throw a giant glass jar of honey, salt and a variety of other things in to the cauldron.

A photo frame of a few hot guys I dream of when the pot blows up in a pit of smoke a snap of my finger.

A lite of fire lites up under the cauldron set it on the logs letting it burn out of control in a hot fire.

I laugh a bit knowing I am about to make a ideal guy for me, I close my eyes spitting in to it.

I stir the wooden spoon letting it come to a boil bubbling up in to the air flowing over on to the floor.

“Mwahahahahaha this horrible world will be concluded.”

“This room will flow with the mixture till it hits the ceiling.”

“I will suck in some”

“Soon I will faint”

“Wake up in a new world “

“One I won’t know but will love”

“It will be under my control “

“I will love it”

“It will consume me”

————

“Uh! What the”

“Hey babe”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“I am Luke, Luke Evans”

“Who?”

“Slave Luke”

“I love you “

“I am your humble servant”

“I feel absolutely connected to you “

“Sir Yes Sir”

“I am your world”

“I am your everything “

“Kiss me Sir”

“Sir Yes Sir”

“Mmmmmmm”

“Oh God!”

“I am swirling “

“Sir I am floating “

The end

[verodicia]

Dream

I was in a diner with stackmates, Jack and Abel. Jeremy is running late. We were in a big comfy booth with an American style pot of coffee to share.

Abel had marshmallows and toast, and was stuffing his face. He's a werewolf, and has a ravenous appetite. Jack is drinking coffee, black, and eyeing my cup as I pour what he considers to be disgusting amounts of "cream" into it.

Abel is like Lycan, crossed with the Diablo 2 druid. Jack is like Silas (Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book) crossed with Nightstalker and Phantom Assassin, but at the same time bears a lightness, like Skywrath Mage. Jeremy is able to transform like Undying, and cast tombstone, but also does expert chemical, explosive things, like Alchemist, Ogre Magi and Techies.

I'm writing up a list of ingredients i'll need for a summoning spell and Abel offers to get some leaves off a plant I'll neeed, as he knows where some grows. Jeremy is bringing a bag of rock salt and a bottle of tequila, I suppose thats why he's late.

Abel chats and seems relaxed enough - I can tell he's excited for drama to come. Jack is looking sort of bored, but also concerned and trying to keep it to himself. He doesn't like to lose.

Several hours later, I'm standing in a massive shallow pool of water, manmade, with thin fountaining jets shooting up here and there, obscuring vision. At some points it's only between ankle and calf-deep, but in some places it comes to my waist. Risky terrain to manoeuvre in, but I hope it will give others a similar disadvantages. It's night time now, and I dont know where the guys are - we all got separated.

I can't see very far, and the fountain noise covers the splashes that enemies might make, wading toward me. I have an iron golem, but he's somewhere out there too. At least, I think to myself, its helping the guys.

I feel something watching me and I turn 360 degrees, scanning the area and squinting to try to see through the fountain spray, into the darkness. Lights in the lake floor here and there make the water glow but don't provide much in the way of extending visibility.

Then, I get a feeling from Jack, in my head. He knows where I am and is monitoring my situation: a Templar Assassin is melded, gradually sneaking up to me in the cover. He's also scouted that Abel is fighting - wrestling a giant cat beast, like Mirana's Sagan, in a large grassy lawn area half a block away. Jeremy is preparing Techies sort of shit, working my Iron Golem to assist him, over two separate cross roads of the block. He is going to make sure everything comes down, down to rubble.

Dust wont work here, because the mists from these fountaining jets of water dampen and disperse it. I have to learn to blink? or meld? right now? to stay safe long enough for Jack to finish his fight and turn off power system driving the pumps. The lights will go out too, though, he reminds me mentally, so I'll need to take that into account.

I hate expending supplies but it does feel necessary as I drink a cat potion from my inventory. My pupils turn to slivers. I can see further into the dark, and see sparkles dancing the outline of TA's meld now, luckily, too. Every time I glance away and back she is a little closer, melded again, no opportunity wasted. The team is concerned. I can feel through our mental connection that Abel has killed Mirana, and her cat, and is running toward me. Time is running out.

I'm glancing at his direction instinctively, then back in alarm but it's already too late. TA's eyes are glimmering directly into mine, face to face and less than a breath away. I see her conviction, her absolute will. I know then I'm going to die, and her blade is going to tear through my stomach. I see it like a replay that never happens, as somehow, time is slow, and I feel myself.. something like blinking, backward. Did I do that?

It not far enough though, and she follows, angry.

Then consecutively I am Forced, and plucked out of the water at the same time, teleported onto grass, TA is locked by an Atos and I know it's my old best friend, Ben, somewhere else. He's Invoker. He doesn't really care or get involved in my fights, causes, dalliances, but noted my situation and decided he could do that, since he is capable.

TA is regaining her bearings. Seeing me, she takes half a step forward, then seems to lunge in a monstrous, sinister puppetlike manner toward me. It sparks a jolt of fear, that there is something very much deeper wrong with the enemy we are facing, and I have a gravelly feeling in my stomach that there's something we've overlooked. It only lasts a splitsecond, as she flies forward and I realise Abel is here. With an inhuman leap he's barrelled into her from behind, teeth sunk deep down over her shoulder and through her back, crushing into her spine. She's still alive and conscious but helpless, in agonising, useless, torment as he begins to shake her like a wet dog toy.

Jack and I are standing on the grass at the edge of the pool, now, just sort of watching while Abel rips her to pieces. Jack is a type of amused, entertained, as Abel makes a giant corpsey mess in the water. Jack holds TA's will there in her body, so she's still alive and feeling herself in pieces.

I'm feeling a rush, but it's in more a Yuck than Fun way.. Admittedly I can be a horror in casual pubs, I'm usually by far the worst of the lot, and they'll criticise my behaviour. But when it comes to Ranked Dota, theres a subset of people - normally so chill, the absolute good guys - who become something else, when its "real competition". Were we the villains here, and was TA part of a mission to take out our party, at any cost?

[prometheusinitiative]

Map | Ground Floor

Back to Maps Summit Basin Floor 1: Living Quarters

Lobby

Concrete floor, concrete walls, everything here is so much concrete and the lobby is no exception. At least potted plants crowd the reception desk and waiting areas, making everything feel a little livelier. You’ve got snake plants, rubber trees, corn plants, monsteras, chinese evergreens, peperomias… and on and on and on. Nobody would bat an eye if you stole one or three.

Locked cabinets sit behind the front desk, presumably for paperwork of some sort. Ithika also happens to sit at the front desk sometimes, and whenever they’re there the front doors are unlocked. (All it takes to get through the locked front door is your watch though!)

An unlimited vending machine for drinks and snacks sits between two mirrored couches and tables. Baskets on the tables hold old magazines– for houses, cars, clothes… oh! There’s several with personality quizzes and match making advice…

Courtyard

The space between the main tower and the surrounding facilities is open to the air, and part of the tower cuts away to make space for the courtyard. Sculpted pine trees, floral bushes, and soft grass grace the gently sunlit area. There’s even some swinging benches, a picnic table, and cultivated herbs like rosemary and thyme. Various walls of ivy are scattered about for a semblance of privacy.

A fountain with an austere modern aesthetic gently bubbles at the center of the courtyard. It's kind of pretentious, isn't it?

Lounge

Glass walls line the inner and outer areas of the lounge, providing a clear look from the courtyard to the surrounding lake. Along the inner wall runs two long bar counters, with stools interspersed. There’s plenty of tables and chairs here, notably four to a table, but nobody is here to stop you if you want to pull some tables together (or make the legendary monotable like the main character of a geometry math problem). A shelf at the north end of the room has napkins, cutlery, trash, and a bin for dirty dishes which conveniently takes care of itself.

Kitchen

The southern half of the lounge houses a kitchen– with counters, sink, giant double fridge, pantry shelves, an electric top stove, electric oven, and microwave, toaster, blender, an industrial sized coffee grinder and espresso machine… oh, and several nice tea sets. In the drawers and cabinets you can find just about anything one might use for cooking.

The contents of the fridge and pantry shelves change every few days, but generally you’ll find: rice, honey, any canned or jarred goods including jam, peanut butter, marinara, beans, chicken, tuna and peaches, dried pastas, bags of chips, a thousand kinds of pickles, cereals, powdered milk, flour, instant coffee, a jug of white vinegar, and alcohol.

In the corner sits a palette of enough Emergency Ration Bars to last 16 people 2 years, so, if you’re not a fan of cooking or feel like building a brick house, there’s that. One bar has enough calories to feed a person for 3 days. There's just the question as to whether or not you can chew it.

Notably, there’s a fire extinguisher mounted to the wall.

Mail Room

A wall of unused mailboxes dominates most of the mail room. The other things you take in when first stepping into the room are the simple tables at the center (ft. paper cutter, tape, rulers, and permanent markers), and the crowd of empty cardboard boxes of various sizes scattered at the fringes of the room.

In one corner also sits a behemoth of a copy machine, which you can connect to using your smart watch. Seems like you’re limited to ten pages or copies a day (lame. That’s not even enough to print a full set of copies for the whole group).

Lastly, there’s an enormous cork board labeled the Community Board that spans the eastern wall of the room. Pinned up on it right now are profiles of your cohort: Names, Pictures, and Cover Letters, in full view for everyone else. It’s a good opportunity to freshen up on your peers if you haven’t already introduced yourselves.

A door to the side leads you into the maintenance room.

Utilities

The door is locked tight, but the sign affixed to it clearly indicates that there’s hazards in here of the red, yellow, and blue kind (that’s fire, electrical, and water). This must be the utility room. You can hear the gentle hum-buzz of mechanics going on behind the door.

Laundry

Washing machines are clustered in the center of the room, and dryers line the back wall in two rows. It seems that all of these machines can be activated with your watch, and your watch will also keep timer reminders for you for active cycles. Said timer beeps once 10 minutes before your washing/drying cycle ends, and once the time runs out will obnoxiously repeat a pleasant song until you return to the unit.

In the corner is a counter space with a sink and cabinets, where you can find detergent, softener, and bleach.

A door to the side leads you into the maintenance room.

Maintenance

The first thing you notice is the unsightly backside of the elevator shaft that dominates this room. There’s a little access door to the shaft, and a few panels on the outside.

There are several panels on the wall for breakers and switches, and it looks like the building’s network wiring begins here as well. You can find some thermostats for each room on the first floor, though they won’t let you go below 60 nor above 80 and return to their default after a day.

Whatever cleaning supplies you might need can be found here– though, hopefully you won’t be making enough messes to warrant that, right? Brooms, mops, industrial mop buckets, extra trash bins, and a little medley of chemicals and sprays to suit. There’s even some janitor’s uniforms, gloves, and boots.

Elevator

The elevator seems to rest on the ground floor, and opens with a pleasant chime almost the moment you press the button. You come face to face with– yourself?

The elevator is all mirrors. There are three glassy walls of reflections lit in bright blue tinted light, and the multitudes of you’s stretch out into forever.

By the door where the buttons should be is another black NFC panel. It seems the floor selection is available on your watch.

You can cram 14 people in if you all pack in like sardines, but this elevator more comfortably carries around 5-6 at a time.

[luluwquidprocrow]

(the three-part folding mirror)

the denouements & the snickets, olaf, r, olivia 

teen

15,985 words 

The year the schism gets worse is the year one of the quarterly information costume parties is held in the grand ballroom on the third floor of the Hotel Denouement. 

@lyeekha won my commission in the @asoue-network fandom against hate raffle and asked for the denouements, so i put together some shenanigans with the denouements and the snickets, with slight ernest/lemony kit/dewey frank/jacques, and a few other associates hanging around ~ 

some minor warnings – language; smoking; brief mention of murder; referenced parental death; identity anxiety about being seen physically and personally 

title from i am alone by they might be giants 

10:59 PM—The Ballroom—East Drink Table

Kit skirted the perimeter of the crowded ballroom, stopping at the side wall by the drinks, one eye on the table and the other on the dance floor. She couldn’t put her back to it. Not now. There was a tall, potted boxwood nearby, unreasonably lush, almost slouching against the decorative golden pillar beside it. She picked up one of the wineglasses, the only signal she could think of to properly get his attention. She’d have to find Lemony as well; where was he?

The plant coughed.

“J,” Kit whispered, “listen to me.”

A few of the branches parted, and Jacques’s blue eyes appeared out of the green. “What happened?”

Kit breathed slowly. Her free hand curled into a fist, crinkling up the fabric of her dress. She swallowed. It did not help. She gripped the glass. Beneath her feet, the floor gave a slight shudder as the clock out in the lobby readied itself to chime the hour.

“Someone in this very room has—”

WRONG!

7:25 PM—Above The Lobby

It was Saturday night, and Saturday night always meant one thing—Guess The Guest.

Ernest stood in the small alcove situated around the gears of the hotel clock, far above the lobby, and looked down. Like any other night, the sleek gold and red lobby was filled with people, loitering around the front desks and the fountain and each other before they made their way up to the grand ballroom on the third floor. Well, the ballroom was different. This was a work event, as Frank had so brilliantly labeled it on their schedule, so no one was a regular guest tonight. Frank, who had never appreciated the joy in making up grandiose lies or exaggerated half-truths about the strangers who came in and out of the hotel, certainly wouldn’t appreciate the thrill in watching all of his associates in costume and trying to guess who was who, either. Dewey thought the game was slightly mean, because Dewey was just too kind for this sort of thing.

It was good that Ernest was not Frank or Dewey. Not right now, anyway. Ernest knew how to get joy out of the little things.

He watched a flash of green scales move erratically through the lobby, a cheerful voice calling enthusiastic greetings that echoed all the way up to the ceiling—Montgomery. There was a reason he did undercover work so sparingly. Two women in nearly identical butterfly costumes by the door, one purple and one white, hand in hand, standing close together—Ramona and Olivia. It was nice to see them together. A woman with a deep blue dress that swept around her like a wave—Josephine, here alone. Ernest had it on good authority that the Anwhistle brothers weren’t coming. Another loud voice, but deeper, following the confident swath a tall figure in black cut through the crowd—Olaf. Ernest turned away, in time to catch a glimpse of a long red cape shifting from behind one pillar to another around the edge of the room, carefully avoiding Olaf—aha. Kit. Which meant another one was nearby. Not that the Snickets had arrived together, because none of them ever did, but where there was one there was always at least one other, ready to make a decent amount of trouble. (Ernest liked trouble. The little things, of course.) And there, near Ramona and Olivia, Lemony Snicket, a figure shaped in grey shadows.

The alcove door opened. Ernest knew exactly who it was, so he didn’t give him the courtesy of turning around, keeping his eyes on Lemony. Grey was a fitting color on him, on the long line of his shoulders, his legs. Ernest’s stomach flipped over, once.

“It looks like a full house tonight,” Frank said, standing beside Ernest. He adjusted the sleeves of his jacket and folded his hands behind his back. “I wasn’t sure.”

Ernest leaned a hand on the alcove railing. “Takes more than a murder to stop a party, I suppose,” he said.

Frank didn’t reply, but Ernest knew that for once he agreed. The double murder in Winnipeg two months ago had, like any other sudden, suspicious death they’d dealt with over the years—Ernest shuddered and flexed his fingers—barely made a ripple in VFD, except that after the funeral, everyone had closed ranks significantly tighter.

This worried Frank; this did not worry Ernest. Very little truly worried Ernest, at the end of the day. That, of course, only made Frank worry more, but Ernest couldn’t help that. Frank would find something to worry about if Ernest was still on “his side”. Ernest had much more pressing commitments than the heavy, idle worry that everyone else shuffled between themselves without any results, and it wasn’t that he’d be found out. It was change. The real kind of change, not the noble one, not the fragmentary one. Change Ernest could see.

He shifted his hand on the railing once more. If he kept thinking about it, he was going to argue with Frank, and they’d rehashed the argument so many times the past few months without any resolution that it was better, Dewey had eventually insisted, if they just didn’t talk about it at all. So they wouldn’t. Ernest stood next to his brother, and the silence dragged out between them, punctuated by the soft ticking of the clock gears, and they wouldn’t talk about it. Not at all.

“Ernest.”

Almost.

“Frank,” Ernest said back, in the same critical tone, tilting his head to the side and giving his brother a look.

Frank shot him a flat and unimpressed stare in return. At least he still did that. “Promise me you won’t do anything—” he paused, his face pinching in an aggrieved sort of way before he settled on a word. “—rash tonight,” he finished.

Ernest laughed. “I don’t intend to do anything rash, Frank.” Of course not. You couldn’t carry out a pre-established plan rashly.

“I should hope not. I—”

The door opened, again. Dewey burst into the alcove, all smiles as always, and stopped on Frank’s other side and leaned over the railing, gazing into the lobby. Like Ernest and Frank, he wore the muted red manager uniform, because somebody had said it was the “host prerogative” to not dress up for a costume party. Somebody had felt bad about it when Dewey was disappointed, but somebody had still not relented, and there they were, a matched trio, everything outwardly perfect.

“Everyone’s costumes are so beautiful,” Dewey said. “Who’s that, in the big blue dress?”

“Josephine,” Ernest and Frank said at the same time.

Ernest raised his eyebrows. Frank, stooping so low as to actually guess the guest? Even Dewey blinked at him in surprise. The tips of Frank’s ears went slightly pink, but he didn’t say a word.

“Oh, Frank, you left your name tag downstairs again,” Dewey said. He pulled the name tag from his pocket, the slim gold rectangle glinting briefly in the soft light of the alcove, and pressed it into Frank’s hand.

“Thank you,” Frank murmured. But when Dewey turned away, Ernest saw the tag disappear from Frank’s fingers, most likely slipped up into his sleeve. None of them wore their name tags with regularity—the black ‘manager’ embroidery on their jackets was really enough—but Frank’s kept showing up places, and Ernest and Dewey kept giving it back to him, every time. Ernest didn’t quite know what to make of it. He wondered about asking Frank about it, but he didn’t want Frank to take it as another argument. Ernest didn’t actually enjoy arguing with Frank. About small things, sure, like Dewey’s stupid poetry and Frank’s inane hotel schedules, the sorts of things brothers argued about. But Ernest was sure Frank would make it into another one about VFD.

Dewey was studying the lobby, one hand on his chin. Ernest watched him go from one friend to another, then stop when he got to Kit’s red cape sweeping towards the stairs. It was an unusual color for her, but Dewey, whether he thought it was nice or not, knew how to identify someone from the pieces they let slip through too. Kit was straightforward about everything, and the way she walked, determined and with an endpoint in sight, was no different.

Ernest and Frank exchanged a quick glance.

“So,” Frank drawled, “when’s the wedding?”

“I look best in black,” Ernest put in. “Take that into account, Dewey.”

“I look best in blue,” Frank said. “Take that into account.”

Dewey’s face went its typical six shades of red, flushing through to his ears as well as he jumped back from the railing and sputtered, “What—we’re not—we haven’t even—I don’t—Kit’s not—you two are impossible.” He stormed out of the alcove, shutting the door with a slight snap behind him, because Dewey had never slammed a door in his life.

Ernest enjoyed a brief chuckle with Frank before his brother fell silent again. The lobby crowd was thinning as everyone made their way to the elevators or the stairs, or to the bathroom, or, perhaps, to some clandestine hallway somewhere else. Ernest could see the ring of neatly-trimmed boxwoods lining the lobby now. He wasn’t sure, but he thought there was one more than usual, sitting right inside the door.

He leaned forward, squinting. “Did we always have a boxwood there?” he asked.

Frank moved his head down a fraction of an inch and considered the lobby. “Of course,” he said. Then he straightened his sleeves one more time, and left the alcove.

7:35 PM—The Lobby

Among the Snicket siblings, there was an ongoing discussion about the best hiding place. Kit preferred the quiet, professional approach. She stood behind newspaper stands, put her face into books and brochure racks, stayed in the shadows of a store awning. Lemony was difficult about it. He thought the best place to hide was the least likely place someone would look for you; the place you wouldn’t look for yourself. He took dangerous perches in train station windows, seats in restaurants he vocally hated, or sophisticated and cramped corner cafes that had never heard of a root beer float.

Jacques, meanwhile, with a lifetime of hiding experience, always liked to hide in plain sight. People barely ever remembered what was right in front of them as long as it appeared relatively normal. And there were a number of options—a large potted plant could be overlooked among a dozen other potted plants, people received packages every day and wouldn’t notice if there was one more oversized box, every city park lost track of how many statues were supposed to be there, even a regular man in a fine suit crossing the street or driving a taxi was expected and forgettable. Another boxwood was just another boxwood sitting in a free space in the empty Hotel Denouement lobby, slowly making its way to the ballroom for optimal eavesdropping. Another volunteer in costume was just another volunteer in a lion costume borrowed from Bertrand, for the moments tonight when Jacques had to communicate information to an associate.

That was the point of the party, after all. Jacques couldn’t deny that everyone liked dressing up—he liked dressing up, a little—but the main objective for most of them tonight was the passing of relevant information that had happened in the three months since the last official gathering (not counting the funeral). It should have been at Winnipeg, as they usually were, the organization taking over the Duke and Duchess’s sprawling, sparkling mansion, the couple’s easy laughter flowing from room to room. Jacques didn’t blame Ramona for not wanting to do it after what happened there. He doubted she’d actually been in the mansion since, although it was entirely hers. But the Hotel Denouement was a suitable replacement. It was too public to ever lose its neutral position among both sides. No one was going to get killed here, Jacques was certain. But he was mildly worried something else would happen. He didn’t know what. But something.

Especially considering Lemony was here. Not that his brother was a troublemaker—Jacques would never say it out loud, at least—but because Lemony wasn’t supposed to be at the hotel tonight. He had told Jacques that he was going to be with Beatrice and Bertrand, who were working on plans for an upcoming assignment. This meant two things—one, that Lemony had lied to Jacques. But Jacques had counted on that. He had assumed, however, that Lemony meant the three of them were finally going on a date and hadn’t wanted anyone to know. Two, that if Lemony never did anything idly, without a specific purpose, then he was here for an unknown reason. Something else was going to happen, Jacques was certain. Something Lemony wanted to be here for.

First, though, he had to get the boxwood he was hiding in from the lobby to the ballroom upstairs. The pot was significantly heavier than Jacques had counted on.

8:05 PM—The Ballroom—Main Doors

Every time they all got together, Frank was so amazed at how many of them there were. Despite some noticeable gaps—Beatrice’s overbearing presence, for one, which Frank was happy to do without for an evening—the grand ballroom had barely any free space. Every available and noble associate was here, and it filled Frank with a sense that everything was going to be alright. All these people, including himself, doing what was necessary to keep the world quiet. Tonight would be fine. Ernest wouldn’t do anything regrettable; Dewey would forgive him about the costumes and the gentle ribbing; the meeting would pass without incident. Tomorrow would come. Sometimes Frank almost thought that it wouldn’t. Typically when Ernest was being difficult, but tonight even he seemed to agree that the organization—their organization—was impressive.

He spotted a potted plant by one of the drink tables, a boxwood that matched the ones lined around the room and back in the lobby. One branch was bent out of place. Frank would have to have a word with the person responsible later. But he should fix the branch now.

Everyone he passed on his way across the room gave him a quick nod, a brief smile. Frank returned it as that familiar buzzing started under his skin, like it tended to in groups. He shrugged it aside. He gave the controlled smile of a manager with everything in place, and no one said a word.

All of a sudden, his view of the boxwood was blocked. Through the mass of associates came Olaf, head to toe in a suit and mask of black, spiky fur, smiling with all his teeth, unceremoniously pushing a woman in a silver dress painted like a large, rocky moon aside on his way towards Frank. Frank steeled himself. You never knew what you were going to get with Olaf, if he would try and charm you with a reckless humor or annoy you with a joking cruelty. It was one of the many reasons Frank had never particularly cared for him.

“Ernest!” Olaf exclaimed when he got close. He hooked an arm through Frank’s. “Lovely to see you, wonderful party.”

The cold, dark hand twisted its way along Frank’s insides. It gripped down through his chest, put a film over his eyes that made the room seem distant and wrong. The party continued around him, Olaf was still talking into his ear, and Frank couldn’t hear any of it. The name tag pressing into his wrist up his left sleeve didn’t help. Just because it was his didn’t mean it was him. His name meant nothing if no one was going to care about who it was, about what made Frank instead of Ernest or Dewey. No one should need evidence to tell the difference. No one should make a mistake between the three of them. How many times would it happen?

Time was still passing. Frank blinked once, twice, until Olaf’s voice filtered back in and the noise of the ballroom swelled up once more.

“—incredibly delicious, I have to say, but, to be frank with you—ha! This champagne has seen better days, which one of you is responsible for this travesty?”

Frank smiled, a little turn of the corner of his mouth, the professional smile of all three of them. If Olaf wanted Ernest, alright. Frank would be Ernest. “Frank,” he said. The word sounded like it couldn’t possibly have come out right, but Olaf didn’t break his stride, so it must have.

“That does not surprise me in the least,” Olaf said. “Meanwhile, allow me to take up one single minute of your time,” he continued, and pulled Frank into the shadows by the door. Frank’s stomach gave a terrible lurch as the stark terror he woke up with every morning came back, riding over the dissonant gap he still felt between his body and his brain. What did Olaf want with Ernest? Had Olaf found out about him? Frank had covered up for Ernest before, but would he be able to keep doing it if more people knew?

“Have you thought about it any more?” Olaf asked, leaning close.

The sheer relief that Olaf didn’t know battled with the swooping fear that Ernest was doing something new Frank didn’t know about, and with Olaf. He remembered, with startling clarity, the last time he talked to Kit, when she told him that Olaf had been spouting dangerous ideas about the organization and trying to rope in as many people as possible. It was one of the reasons, according to the rumors Frank had heard elsewhere, why he and Kit had ended their relationship. What was he trying to get Ernest into? Ernest needed absolutely no encouragement, and neither did Olaf. He had to say something.

“I have,” Frank said. It was the safe answer when you were pretending to be someone else.

Olaf grinned again, big and excited, which was a terrible sign. “And?”

“No,” he said, because it was also the safe answer, and the faster Frank could untangle Ernest from whatever trouble he was into this time, the better. “Sorry to disappoint,” he added, with the cool tone Ernest used.

Olaf frowned. “Really? I must admit, I am a little surprised. I mean, I know you weren’t entirely on board, but you’d given it a shot before, and I was hoping you’d come around again.”

Before? They’d talked before? Frank thought a series of incredibly inappropriate words Beatrice was always using that he would never say out loud.

“But!” Olaf pivoted quickly, in his speech and his actions, spinning on his heel away from Frank and shrugging broadly. “Who am I to bend your arm about it! I’ll keep you in mind, though, in case.” He showed all his teeth, his eyes glittering. “And keep me in mind, next time you have anything else worth sharing, will you?” He flounced off again, tearing through the crowd.

It took a few minutes for Frank’s heart to go back to where it was supposed to be from where it was thundering in his throat. He put his hands in his pockets and gripped the fabric, something real and his to hold onto.

Anything else worth sharing. Since their apprenticeships, Frank and Dewey and Ernest had been tasked with organizing a great deal of information, mostly about the history of the organization, but sometimes, and especially as they got older, the very information that was passed along between volunteers. It was part of the reason Dewey had started building his personal archives in the basement. He liked the business of collecting facts. Of course all three of them were still being given that information. Of course Ernest still had access to every single piece of that information. Ernest, collaborating with Olaf, Ernest, sneaking around behind Frank’s back, Ernest, who had promised, at the beginning of all this, that he wasn’t going to jeopardize their positions by doing something stupid.

Ernest, what are you doing?

8:40 PM—The Archives, In Progress

Dewey was not hiding. He liked parties a great deal, and he loved people, but like his brothers and everyone else, he too had his own appointment to keep tonight.

His just happened to be in the basement.

He still sort of felt like he was hiding, especially the further he went into the archives. But things always needed organizing, and while he waited, he had to do something to keep his hands busy. He searched for a set of organization accounting records for five minutes before realizing he’d already shelved it, last week.

So Dewey was nervous. Plenty of people were nervous. Olivia went around all the time being nervous and no one gave her any grief for it. But Olivia didn’t have a sister to give her any grief for it. And Dewey didn’t mind, not really. He loved it when his brothers teased, because it meant they were getting along. But this time it was slightly personal. Because he was meeting Kit, and he was nervous.

Kit was—well, normal. Like Dewey was normal. He loved his brothers, but Frank was high-strung and made it everyone else’s problem, Ernest was often disagreeable for the sake of it, and with the Snickets, Jacques was always hiding in furniture and Dewey didn’t think he’d ever seen more of him than one hand and possibly an eye at a time, and Lemony was wonderful but sometimes too cryptic and morbid for Dewey’s taste. He liked things a little more sensible, comfortable, pleasant. And Kit was organized, reasonable, quiet when other people were reading, cool under pressure. She let herself get lost in books and people she cared about, underneath all the professionalism. Her smile was a careful, slow thing, something private she only showed you if she genuinely liked you. And it meant a lot to be on the receiving end of that smile.

His brothers didn’t get it. He wasn’t involved with Kit, and he wasn’t going to ask her out, because you didn’t do that with Kit. If Kit wanted to spend time with you, that was her own choice. She never did anything she didn’t want or she hadn’t thought through first. That she wanted to spend time with Dewey, specifically, to see him, and no one else, was nice. It made the whole of him feel all tingly and weightless. He wanted their meeting in the archives to be as nice as that feeling.

Dewey grabbed a set of Agatha Christie translations he kept on hand for when things got boring (rarely, but Beatrice got bored easily, and if you gave her a translation she sat down for a while to prove she could read it) and walked to the next aisle to shelve them. His foot snagged on something in the middle of the floor and he stumbled, hugging the books close to his chest so they didn’t fall. He turned around to see what it was, and found Kit blinking up at him with wide eyes from where she sat on the floor, a thick book open in her lap, her long red dress pooled around her on the floor. Her dress had an off-the-shoulder neckline, but most of her shoulders were covered by the matching red cape pulled around her. In the wide diamond of skin left between the cape and the top of the dress, he could see the sharp edge of something black around her collarbone, a point of the nearly-finished tattoo she’d been getting done. The red sleeves disappeared into short white gloves, with her hands folded together at the bottom of the book pages. Oh. Dewey’s heart pounded for a horrible, exhilarating moment, his mouth going dry. He swallowed once, twice, a third time.

“I’m sorry,” she said, smiling wryly, closing the book and sliding it gently back in the middle shelf. “I got distracted.”

“Oh, no, that’s completely understandable,” Dewey said. He folded himself down beside her, crossing his legs, still clutching the books to him. “Happens to me all the time. What were you reading?”

Kit smiled again, and it was that slow, beautiful smile, her eyes lighting up. “Have you heard,” she said, “about the cookiecutter shark?”

Dewey had absolutely heard about the cookiecutter shark. “Isistius brasiliensis,” he said. “It can travel in schools, and it bites little circular sections out of fish, like a cookie cutter. Have you heard about the brownsnout spookfish?”

“Barreleye fish, has mirrors in its eyes. Toothless upper jaw,” Kit replied easily. “Anostraca.”

“Fairy shrimp, they swim upside down,” Dewey said. He leaned forward, grinning. “Sometimes even found in deserts. Frilled shark?”

This was his favorite game, with his favorite person, in his favorite place. Both of them were librarians, or librarian-adjacent, so he and Kit dealt in information, not only about nobility but about the rest of the world around them. And the whole world was so fascinating, and there was so much to know and share, so how could you not try and see who could stump the other first?

“An eel-like living fossil, with six pairs of gill slits. Chaunacidae.”

Dewey scrunched up his face, thinking. “I think you got me there,” he admitted.

“Sea toad,” Kit said, looking pleased, “and coffinfish. Deep-sea anglerfishes. The sea toad has fins that can be used as leg flippers.”

“Really? Wow.” Dewey made a mental note to check that out later. He hoped, on the scale of unsettling sea creature to pleasantly spooky sea creature, that it was somewhere in the middle. “So besides oceanic intrigue,” he said, “what else is going on with you?”

“I’m supposed to get something from Frank tonight,” Kit said. “But, I also came to give you this. From Bertrand,” she clarified, and then picked through the seams of her dress, which revealed themselves as hiding at least ten different pockets.

When he had the time, Dewey wanted to study clothing design. Kit and Beatrice always found the place for so many pockets that you could never see from the outside, and Dewey wished he had the same capacity in his slim manager’s jacket and trousers for all the things he wanted to carry around. Poetry; chocolate-covered pretzels; the pencils Kit always left behind; spare buttons; sturdy rope, in case he needed it; maybe a mini chess set. He’d have to work on it. Maybe he could hide them in shoulder pads, or his shoes.

Kit pulled out a book from a side pocket. Dewey finally put the Agatha Christie down, piling it in a neat stack between them, and took the book. It was the one Bertrand had spoken to him about last week—Undercover Underwater: Diving For The Truth, a truly terrible murder mystery novel he said Dewey had to read to believe. He was greatly looking forward to it.

“That was awfully sweet of him,” Dewey said, running his thumb over the cover. He looked for a place to put it, and then just put it on top of his book stack. It felt a little sacrilegious, if it was as bad as Bertrand said, to put it on top of Christie, but he didn’t want to misplace it. “Thank you very much.”

Kit shifted on the floor and put her back to the bookshelf. “Did you hear the Anwhistle brothers finished building that marine research and rhetorical advice center?”

“Yes,” Dewey said. “I guess that’s why they aren’t here tonight? Josephine was all alone when I saw her earlier.”

“They should’ve celebrated with the rest of us,” Kit said. “What a massive architectural achievement—and I wanted to hear about the leeches, too.”

“Yes!” Dewey exclaimed. “Have you seen them yet? I haven’t.”

“No,” Kit said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Not in person. Ike gave Lemony one of the earlier ones as a paperweight some time ago but I haven’t been able to see their recent work yet. I hear the teeth are impressive.”

“Cookiecutter shark impressive?”

Kit grinned. “Potentially.”

Dewey laughed. He wished he and Kit could go see them, together. For the scientific curiosity. For spending time with someone who really, really wanted to see him. No, for the oceanic intrigue, of course. “You know—” Oh no. He hadn’t intended to actually start the sentence, but it was out, and Kit was looking at him expectantly, and Dewey was rapidly losing all handles on the conversation. His face was heating up. Everyone else made talking to people whose company they enjoyed look so easy, but the words jumbled together in his mouth. “We should—go? I mean—not right now, but, soon, we could—to the research center—for the leeches, for, for science.”

Pink colored Kit’s face under the freckles along her nose. “For science,” she said. Then—“Not a date,” she added firmly.

“Definitely for science,” Dewey insisted. “Oceanic intrigue, and everything.”

“Yes,” she said, blinking quite a few times. “That would be fine.”

They stared at each other for the longest minute of Dewey’s life.

“We should probably get back up to the party,” he said. The archives were feeling much, much too close, all the books and shelves pressed up against him, the point of Kit’s tattoo still peeking out from under the edge of her cape.

Kit nodded quickly. “Yeah.”

8:55 PM—The Ballroom—Near The Piano

Next—Jacques had to find Olivia.

He abandoned the boxwood by the east wall, for the time being, out of sight near the piano, where a man with a white half-mask played a pleasant Beethoven sonata while a woman in a sharp, pointed gold suit argued with a man dressed as an octopus with a hat. They did not notice Jacques, even in his own costume, but he noticed them. He noticed everyone in the room so singularly. He’d almost forgotten so many people could be in one place at the same time. You spent a lot of time alone, hiding in small spaces, you got used to yourself.

Olivia was easily identifiable. Nothing she did could ever disguise the tightly-wound nervous energy coiled inside her, not the shimmery white butterfly wings curled over her shoulders or the mask of purple flowers on her face. Something always gave her away. Tonight, it was her hands, twisting together as she talked to someone in a large, leafy tree costume, so consuming Jacques couldn’t make out the face. He scanned the crowd, trying to locate Ramona in her reversed purple wings and white mask. He saw her making her way towards one of the drink tables. Ramona wouldn’t leave Olivia alone for long.

The tree left soon after, and Jacques made his way over to her, getting a decent amount of elbows into the side along the way. “Olivia,” he said, when he stopped in front of her.

Her eyes passed over him and onto the rest of the room, like she was staring straight through him. Jacques frowned. He’d certainly said something. He’d certainly moved, Olivia was right in front of him. People moved around them without sparing him a second glance; someone said a cheerful hello to Olivia and she returned it. His voice dried up in his throat, like if he tried to speak he’d never make a sound. When was the last time before this he’d spoken out loud? No one expected him to talk, in his line of work. When had he done it? No, perhaps she simply hadn’t heard him.

He cleared his throat a few times. That was a sound. That was undeniably a sound. Jacques existed here.

He touched his hand to her wrist. “Olivia?”

Olivia jumped nearly a foot. She turned her head from side to side frantically, and Jacques gave her a short wave.

“Oh!” Olivia pressed her hands against her chest and laughed, breathless. “Oh, Jacques, you startled me. How are you?” she asked, as unfailingly kind as always, as if he hadn’t just frightened her. She looked like she wanted nothing more than for Jacques to tell her the long, substantial answer, instead of the polite one. He almost did. But Jacques was here for business.

“Fine,” he said. “And you?”

“Alright,” she said, still smiling. “Ramona’s gone to get some champagne, would you like to join us?”

“Not tonight,” he said. “I have a message for you.”

Her bright smile faltered, her hands seizing together again. “I see,” she said quietly. “What is it?”

“We’d like you to take up the outpost at Caligari Carnival.”

Olivia blanched. “The—the hinterlands?” she repeated. Her voice trembled. “That’s, ah, terribly far away, isn’t it?”

“It is a distance from the city,” Jacques conceded, “but not far.” It was far from Winnipeg, though. It was very far. Eventually, Ramona would be back there, at least in some capacity. Things would be different, especially if Olivia was wanted in the hinterlands permanently.

“Jacques, I really—I don’t—I’ll think about it,” she said finally. “I promise, I’ll think about it.”

An assignment from headquarters was not exactly optional. Her eyes darted somewhere behind him, and Jacques knew who she was looking at. She and Ramona had just gotten together only recently, before the Duke and Duchess’ deaths. Any kind of love was difficult within the confines of their organization, but the solace here, Jacques thought, was that she and Ramona were both there. They would never be that far away. They might see each other a good deal less, but they would see each other.

“You can take your time to leave, if you wanted,” he said.

“I’ll think about it.” Her voice was firm. “But, thank you for letting me know, Jacques.” She gave him her soft, breezy smile again, and slipped off through the dance floor.

Jacques watched her go. They would see each other. That was an invaluable thing, in their line of work. Being seen. Sometimes even the best person you loved with your whole being couldn’t see the part of you that mattered. To be seen when you disappeared from the rest of the world—that was worth holding on to. It would be difficult. But he had no doubt Olivia and Ramona would do it.

The floor rumbled, like it always did before the lobby clock chimed.

9:00 PM—Room 687

Miranda raised an eyebrow. “Does the clock always sound like that? Like it’s saying wrong?”

“Incessantly,” Esmé sighed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I think Frank’s responsible. Heaven forbid he goes an hour without reminding everyone else how little he thinks of their decisions, you know.”

9:00 PM—The Ballroom—North Drink Table

The hotel was not Winnipeg. But right now, that was exactly what Ramona wanted. The modern angles, the warm, well-lit ballroom, the dark corners and firm rigidity of it all currently felt homier than the soft, open pinks and whites of the Winnipeg mansion. She was glad to have another excuse to avoid it and the constant questions. Tonight, she was going to see her friends, and dance with Olivia, and drink champagne, because Olivia said every occasion was cause for celebration and champagne, and Ramona was going to have a good time. She picked up two champagne flutes from the table and took a sip of one in the careful way her mother taught her, so she didn’t leave lipstick on the glass. Her heart stuttered as she saw the press of plum purple streaks on the glass when she pulled it away. The hotel clock was chiming, sounding like a heavy, distorted vibration of a word. It was right. The lipstick was wrong.

Who had done it? Everyone wanted to know. The firestarters? Likely, but they had been quiet for some time, and Ramona wasn’t going to point fingers without evidence. Some older enemy? Ramona didn’t know enough about whoever that was to consider them. Someone new?

She didn’t want to think about it. Her parents were dead, and she’d found them, and she didn’t want to think about who could have done it or why they did. It wasn’t going to change that it had happened. Ramona wasn’t looking for answers. She was looking for—

An arm slung around her shoulders, jostling her and the champagne, which sloshed around in the flutes as she lurched forward. Scratchy fur and outrageous cologne bore down on her, and she knew exactly who it was.

“My dear duchess,” Olaf said, squeezing her tight. “How have you been?”

Ramona found it in her to roll her eyes. Some people didn’t like Olaf, which she completely understood. There was something about him though, as brash and outlandish and obnoxiously tactile as he was, that had to make you laugh sometimes. She felt comfortable, close to a friend. “Just peachy,” she said. She offered him the other champagne glass; she could get another for Olivia. “Champagne?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Olaf said. He hooked his free hand around both glasses and set them back on the drink table. “Look, I wanted to give you my sincerest condolences—” And he did look sincere, sliding around in front of her, his hand still on her shoulder, the joy immediately gone from his face and replaced by an uncharacteristic seriousness. She was struck by it, by how glassy and shiny his eyes were under the dark of his mask. “I’m sorry about your parents, Ramona.”

Her mouth wobbled at the edges. She knew Olaf could understand. They’d had similar positions in the organization their whole lives—their parents their chaperones, their time split between assignments and society, the safety that existed in his manor as well, its own controlled pocket of the world, like Winnipeg had been, like the Hotel Denouement was, too. She thought of the Count and Countess, still alive. She hoped they’d stay alive.

It wouldn’t do to cry at a party. Ramona picked up her flute again and took another small sip. “Thank you,” she said.

And just like that, he straightened up and pulled away from her. Some of the mirth found its way back into the shape of his mouth and his arm found its way back around her, this time a tight grip at her waist as he steered her back into the crowd. Ramona felt slightly less consoled than ten seconds ago. Easy come, easy go, with Olaf. “I hate thinking about you all alone in that big house,” he said with a sigh. “All that room, all those things—remember when I knocked into that vase in the hallway?”

“Very vividly,” Ramona said.

“A glorious time!” he crowed. “Well! At least you’ve got all of us, haven’t you. What are your friends if not your family, et cetera, et cetera.”

But he still understood. That was what made it so important to be here tonight. What were all the people in the room, the friends she’d grown up with, people she knew and loved, if not her family as well, just as much as her parents had been? They were more than associates or volunteers, stepping in around her not to fill a void, but to offer back some little part of what had been taken from her. Her throat tightened up as she thought about it. Everything they did was hard, but it was also so special. Ramona wanted to hold it close to her and never let it go.

“And what wouldn’t one do for one’s family, am I right?” Olaf continued. “So, if you ever need me for anything—a shoulder to cry on, although certainly not in this jacket, or, say, a partner in crime, or a willing participant in any daring assignment you might come across otherwise—do not hesitate to let me know, okay?”

“Of course.”

“I mean it.”

Ramona stumbled to a halt as Olaf stopped abruptly. He looked down at her with a gash of a grin. “People like you and me, we’ve got to stick together, duchess.” He gave her a squeeze one more time and then finally let go, dashing away.

Goodness, but he was rough about things. Ramona gave herself a shake, trying to collect herself back into order. She stood up on her toes to try and see where he’d gone. She didn’t get much more height, already being in heels, but she did manage to see him already making grandiose hand gestures across the room to those white-faced triplets Ramona had seen once or twice. They were younger than she was, still in their training. The three of them stared at Olaf with three immaculately raised eyebrows. Ramona chuckled a little, dropped back down, and went back for Olivia’s champagne glass.

9:40 PM—The Ballroom—Center

Over an hour had passed, and Frank hadn’t seen any sign of Ernest. He had better things to be doing than keeping track of Ernest, and yet here he was. He couldn’t have gone far—the hotel was enormous, but it was a hotel. The whole world contained on nine floors. You couldn’t disappear from it.

Frank edged his way through the dance floor, searching for him through three separate groups of associates doing three slightly different versions of a circle dance. A snake and a tree frog whirled past, a phantom with them, a tangled shape of dark greens and blacks and bright blues and exuberant laughter. When they’d gone, Frank found himself in the center of the floor and face to face with Dewey, coming towards him from the other direction, his cheeks pink.

“Are you alright?” Frank asked immediately.

Dewey blinked. “Of course,” he said. “Just dancing. Is everything okay?”

He should have known, but Ernest had him on an edge he hadn’t expected to be tonight. He tried to look apologetic but wasn’t sure how well he succeeded. “Have you seen Ernest?”

“Not since earlier,” Dewey said. “Oh, and Kit was—”

“When you see him, could you tell him I’m looking for him?”

Dewey’s shoulders drooped down. “If I see him,” he said. “Then I’ll tell him.”

“Thank you,” Frank said, and he meant it. He smiled at Dewey until he smiled back, and then Frank moved past him, pushing back into the crowd.

He hadn’t meant to be short about it, but Frank’s worry never came out like he wanted it to. It became biting irritation instead, or a slow-simmering temper he never let boil, or professional, distant orders about hotel business, or a refusal to talk at all in case he said the wrong thing. More often than not, he still wound up arguing with Ernest. He didn’t argue with Dewey, but their conversations were so much more stilted than they should have been lately.

But it was because he feared Ernest was going to slip away from him one day and never come back. Realistically, it was unlikely. After all, Ernest was still here. Indecision entering their home hadn’t taken him away from it. But what if that changed, one day, and it was Frank’s fault, because he reacted too quickly or too slowly? And Dewey—Dewey was so sweet and so kind Frank thought the world might crush him. He had to keep them close, and he had to keep them safe. It would’ve been so much easier, though, if Ernest wasn’t so difficult about it, if Dewey understood that Frank didn’t want anything to happen to him, if they would listen.

Frank glanced at his watch. It was getting late. He’d look for Ernest on the way, but for one small hour, Ernest was going to have to wait.

9:59 PM—The Floor Behind The South Drink Table

Through typical party events, The Herpetology Squad (Plus Hector) found themselves on the floor behind one of the drink tables.

“So how do you tell them apart?” Gustav asked, stirring his drink with a spoon. “Because, and I do feel terrible about this, but I can’t do it. We’ve known them for ages, and I can’t do it.”

“Frank is taller,” Monty said immediately, and very confidently.

“What, no, he can’t be taller, they’re triplets,” Hector said. “Do genetics work like that?”

“Hey Haruki,” Monty called around Gustav and Hector, “do genetics work like that?”

Haruki leaned into Hector’s shoulder and considered it. “I’m really not sure,” they said. “But, I always figured, Ernest was kind of quiet, and Frank was kind of stern, and Dewey was kind of, well, kind.”

“But that seems so reductive,” Gustav pointed out. “You can’t just identify a person down to one base trait and leave it at that. And I say this as a screenwriter and director. You need to be creative.”

“All your characters sound exactly the same, though,” Hector said, frowning. “Or, like, so different, I don’t think you’re keeping track of them between scenes.”

“Oh, that’s awfully rude,” Haruki said.

“No, he’s right,” Gustav said. He hung his head into his hands, his glass tipping sideways through his fingers. Haruki reached over and grabbed it, twisting their arm around and up to slide it back onto the drink table where it’d be safer. “I always thought they did, and now I know for sure. I’ll have to renounce film making and go back to herpetology. Or, submarines. I can’t disparage your honor too, Monty.”

“Oh, Hector, you hurt his feelings,” Monty said. He patted Gustav on the back consolingly. “Gustav, you write wonderful scripts. I loved the, the Werewolves In The Rain.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I can’t handle a drunk Gustav,” Hector said, closing his eyes. “Gustav, I’m sorry. To be fair, I only watched—what was it—” He waved his hands around. “—the one with the—you know—”

“Vampires In The Retirement Community,” Haruki said.

“And it was once. And—hey, weren’t we talking about something else?”

10:10 PM—The Short Hallway Between Rooms 40-45 and 46-49

Unassigned numbers within the Dewey Decimal System were not the trouble they appeared to be to a hotel based on it. They still existed in the hotel, no matter how much Ernest had protested that it made no sense to have rooms that had no theme or purpose in a hotel whose very purpose was theme—Frank and Dewey’s rebuttal was that it made no sense to nonchalantly remove numbers out of their sequential existence because they didn’t fit in neatly otherwise. They existed. They didn’t have themes, even this stretch of ten, which had been previously designated but was now just a blank space between encyclopedias and magazine publications, which left the rooms relatively blank and boring, typically unnoticed and unused, but they still existed.

In the brief, dark hallway between the two sets of unassigned rooms, Frank could sit on the bench against the wall, and he didn’t have to think about family or the hotel. Frank sat featureless in the shadows and thought about himself. Usually, it meant he felt better about everything. But tonight, with the worry set aside once more for now, all he felt was that chill through his insides again, when Olaf mistook him for Ernest.

He took the name tag out of his sleeve and turned it over in his hands. Frank was a man in a manager’s jacket, with a face that looked like two other faces, someone who could be anyone. The name tag did nothing but identify him without caring who he was. What was it that made Frank himself, the imperceptible, innate existence of him that mattered? His love for Ernest and Dewey? Visible. His organization? Trivial. The fear he was going to lose everything? Meaningless and a weakness, in the face of everything else. It was hard to say for sure. He had gone his whole life getting mixed up with Ernest and Dewey and it was exhausting to keep trying to prove he was real when it felt like the world was rubbing him out. He leaned his back against the wall.

He heard Jacques before he saw him, like always. Exact, economical footsteps, nothing extraneous, the tap of his expensive shoes on the rugs, the swish of his jacket. Everything measured, as it had to be.

Jacques appeared around the corner, that bent piece of the boxwood plant stuck in his hair. He seemed to brighten when he saw Frank, like Frank’s presence set something off inside him. Frank watched him. What did Jacques see, when he looked at Frank? What was it that made Jacques notice, over and over again, over other people? How was Jacques so certain that when he looked at Frank right now, at that moment, that Jacques was looking at him?

Jacques sat down next to him on the bench. Frank had seen him in a mask earlier, something terrible and orange, but it was gone now, and he faced Frank fully. He was inches away from Frank, and Frank could see every part of him, even in the dark—the calm, if tired, resolution in the set of his jaw, the way he waited, still and patient, as if he could do nothing else. He had the darkest eyes of his siblings, a steady and unchanging deep blue.

“That which is essential is invisible to the eye,” Jacques whispered.

Frank let out the breath he’d been holding. How long ago had he said that to Jacques? “I initially said that to insult you,” he said.

“It was deserved,” Jacques said. “And I never forgot. Do you know how I always know it’s you now?”

“Enlighten me.”

He put his hand against Frank’s jacket, resting his fingers against the fabric to the left of the buttons. Jacques kept it there, and he didn’t take his eyes off of Frank for anything, not even when the heartbeat under his hand sped up. Frank felt almost split open to the core. He always did, every time. Jacques saw whatever it was. The man who was always hiding knew exactly who he was, because he looked.

“How very sentimental of you,” Frank managed. His breath hung between them. He traced the side of his thumb over the collar of Jacques’s shirt, just below the skin. If he moved his hand just a centimeter he’d be able to feel his heartbeat as well.

“It’s the truth,” Jacques murmured. “Sentiment is—dangerous. Truth is immutable.”

“Do you know how I know it’s you?” Frank said against his mouth.

“How?” Jacques asked.

Frank finally pulled the branch out of Jacques’s hair. “You do terribly stupid things.”

Jacques laughed, and the sound vibrated all the way down through Frank’s throat.

10:19 PM—Room 366

Frank had to be somewhere. Kit was not overly concerned with finding him, but she would rather do it sooner than later. She worked from the ground floor up, combing through the hallways but finding no sight of the Denouement, until she was on the third floor again. The faster she found Frank, the faster she could, maybe, go back to talking to Dewey. About completely professional things, of course. The fact that she felt different when she was with Dewey was simply because he was pleasant, welcome company. He wanted to look at leeches with her, for the delight of science. They expected nothing from each other but a nice time.

She immediately pictured Beatrice waggling her eyebrows at her, if Kit had said that out loud. Not that kind of nice time, she thought, but the mental Beatrice kept laughing joyously at her.

“He’s a nice person,” she grumbled to the empty hallway. He was calm. Regular. Okay. The exact opposite of everyone else, Beatrice. Could she go five minutes without them all picking apart her romantic life? This was why she wasn’t interested. This was why it was strictly nice. There were other, more important things that needed her attention.

The door to Room 366 was ajar, and Kit, who had naturally been trained to investigate the suspicious, investigated the suspicious. She slid herself carefully through the gap in the door and into the dark room. She’d been in there a few times to know it was an absurdly comfortable meeting room, with plush chairs and a bookcase that spanned the length of the far wall. A figure sat against the side wall, reaching up and tapping ash from a cigarette out the open window. For a moment, they looked like a blank, featureless shadow, until a light outside the window shifted and Frank—no, Ernest’s face resolved itself in front of her. The tip of the cigarette burned bright orange against his fingers.

“I heard about you and Olaf,” he said. “Would you like an apology, since I’m sure you’ve been getting enough I told you so’s?”

Kit sighed. “I really don’t want to talk about it.” But she shut the door and walked over, sitting down on the floor beside him. She took her own pack of cigarettes out of one of her dress pockets and accepted Ernest’s lighter to light one. She never carried her own.

“He did,” she muttered, giving the lighter back. She brought her legs up and wrapped an arm around them. “Tell me, I told you so. Not in so many words, of course, but I knew he was thinking it.”

“Ah,” Ernest said. “The disappointed look of, I’m not going to say it, but I’m going to think it, in your general direction. Which is worse.”

“Exactly,” Kit said. “At least argue with me so I can tell him he’s wrong.”

Ernest breathed out a long line of smoke. “Yes.” She thought he was going to say something else, but when he didn’t, Kit pressed on.

“He acts like it was my fault,” she said. “Should I have known better? I—” It was a harsh thing to admit, but she and Ernest didn’t do this to lie to each other. “Yes. Fine. But he acts like I can’t be left alone now to make my own decisions. He keeps following me, hanging around.” She slouched against the wall. “My own brother thinks so little of me.”

Ernest hmmed. “Well—”

“Do not. Do not say I’m short. I’m not short. Jacques has one inch on me, Ernest. Esmé is short. I’m not short.”

“Sorry,” Ernest said, laughing.

“Say it,” she said, and pushed her elbow into his side.

“Ow—Kit, you are anything but short.”

“Thank you.” She took her elbow back. The two of them sat in silence, blowing out small circles of smoke as the cigarettes smoldered down. “What’s Frank disappointed about?”

Ernest waved his hand with the cigarette dismissively. “Frank’s disappointed he can’t find a tie that matches the custom paint in the lobby,” he said. “It doesn’t take much for him. I was five minutes late, I didn’t give him the mail on time, I missed a meeting, and he just—” He did an obviously perfect impression of Frank’s unimpressed stare.

Kit snorted. She had to admit, Frank did look like that a lot, even if you caught him in a good mood.

“If he wasn’t so difficult,” Ernest muttered, “he’d be almost bearable.”

“Wouldn’t they all,” Kit sighed. “Brothers.”

“Brothers,” Ernest agreed.

10:25 PM—The Ballroom—West Hors d’oeuvres Table

Dewey stood at the hors d’oeuvres table, away from the crowd of his friends, surveying the food. At least, with everything going on, there was always good food to look forward to. It was awful to glare at it like he was. He’d felt so good after talking to Kit, and now he was glowering at little rows of canapes like they were the source of his problems.

He wasn’t usually upset with his brothers. No matter what they did, he knew they had their reasons, and Dewey loved them regardless. But sometimes they really were impossible. Frank’s quiet temper and Ernest’s secrecy and indifference had driven such a wedge between the two of them that when Dewey suggested they didn’t talk about it, it had seemed like the best idea at the time to get them to go forward. Otherwise, he’d been worried that Frank was going to say something he’d regret, because he wasn’t going to change Ernest’s mind, and Ernest might’ve done something terrible. Dewey didn’t think he was capable of something truly terrible, because Ernest was his brother, and he knew Ernest. They both believed in a right way to live, just in different ways, so Dewey respected him. You couldn’t let anything change that. But he was still as worried about Ernest as Frank was, and he had just wanted the arguments to stop.

But it had led to Frank and Ernest almost refusing to talk to each other, ninety percent of the time. The other ten percent was pleasantries or conversations that skirted the edge of an argument, which was worse. Dewey particularly hated it lately, when he was asked to pass messages between them, typically from Frank. He wasn’t a messenger system, he was their brother, and he was, in fact, if either of them cared to remember, the oldest. But they treated him like someone to protect because he wasn’t as forceful as them. He frowned down at a section of tiny shot glasses of—he picked one up. Gazpacho. It looked so charming and Dewey couldn’t even appreciate it.

What it came down to was, the schism couldn’t come between him and his brothers if they didn’t let it. Just like his current irritation couldn’t come between him and his brothers if he didn’t let it. He considered it, because he was angry, but he didn’t let it change anything.

He found a narrow, palm-sized spoon from one of the other hors d’oeuvres and poked at the gazpacho with it. He thought, for a moment, about the Anwhistle brothers, sitting in their brand new marine research and rhetorical help center, probably having a lot of fun together talking about fungi and grammar. Gregor and Ike were two of the most different but most companionable people Dewey knew. Nothing got between them. They probably didn’t forget who was the oldest. Who was the oldest out of them, anyway? They probably didn’t let it matter.

Oh, Dewey was letting it get to him. He piled some of the gazpacho onto the spoon and took a bite. He wished Bertrand had been able to come. Bertrand would’ve loved the appeal of the gazpacho as well. Bertrand didn’t have a single sibling to complain about and he would’ve enjoyed the gazpacho wholesale. He could’ve stood around with Dewey at the table, and maybe they’d have brought in Lemony, too, and talked about flavor profiles. Lemony, who was legitimately the youngest of his siblings, commiserating over cold soup about how they never stopped trying to protect him either. Who could possibly think Lemony of all people needed protecting, too? There was always that quiet, competent energy around him.

Dewey finished the gazpacho and put the jar on a passing hotel attendant’s silver tray. Where was Lemony, actually? He was sure he’d seen him earlier. Dewey remembered, because it was the first time he’d seen Lemony in a long while. Wherever he was, Dewey was sure it was probably more enjoyable than here.

10:32 PM—The Ballroom—Dance Floor

“Josephine,” Olaf said, sidling up behind her, “Jo, angel of my eye—”

“The correct word for that expression is apple,” Josephine interrupted. She did not take her eyes off of her plate of puff pastry. “We’ve been over this.”

He continued, persistent as ever, his smile stretched like candy. “Would you do me the honor of dancing with me, angel of my apple?”

“No.”

10:45 PM—The Elevator

The night was passing by, and Kit still hadn’t found Frank. She’d made it all the way up to the ninth floor with no sign of him. Was he the type to be on the rooftop sunbathing salon? Unlikely. But she should check, just in case.

She had her hand against the rooftop door when the elevator dinged behind her. Kit turned to look. The elevator doors parted, revealing the gold-walled interior with rather harsh lighting, and there was Frank, standing with his hands folded behind his back. He caught Kit’s eye and gave her a slight nod. “Kit.”

“Frank.” She stepped into the elevator beside him and pushed the button for the third floor. As the doors closed, she smelled smoke for a moment, and her heart leapt before she realized the cigarette smoke must’ve clung to her gloves. She tugged them off and stuffed them into one of her pockets.

“I heard the Anwhistles finished the research center,” Frank said, as the elevator started to move down.

“Yes.”

“And the mycelium—are they still working on it?”

“As far as I know, yes.”

Frank sighed. “Do you have any concerns?”

“Some,” Kit admitted. There was no denying it was dangerous. Necessary, but catastrophic if it ever got out of hand. “If anything happens, it can be dealt with.”

“Good,” Frank said, decisively. Silence dropped through the elevator, the hand counting down the floors moving slowly from eight, to seven, to six. Frank raised an eyebrow; Kit realized she’d been staring at him. “Is something wrong?”

“I was under the impression that there was—” More, or something else entirely. It was Kit’s understanding that Frank was to give her a list. There was usually only one kind of list that mattered in their organization, and unless she had radically misjudged the ages of the Anwhistle brothers after personally knowing them for years, they wouldn’t be on that list. “—something more specific,” she wound up finishing.

Frank looked at her with his impassive, unimpressed mask. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

The hand moved again, six to five to four. Kit had the strangest sensation that she was missing something. She should’ve been given that list, not subjected to a brief interrogation, especially about something she was already aware of. The smell of smoke flitted in front of her again.

Disbelief shot through Kit like an arrow, pushing the air from her lungs. She felt like the floor was dropping out from under her. She didn’t want to believe it. She couldn’t. She stared at the man in the elevator, and he stared back, cool and collected. It couldn’t be. Because that would mean—but the longer she looked, the more certain she was.

“Frank quit smoking,” she said quietly, “but you didn’t.”

The corner of his mouth turned down. “I—”

Kit slammed her hand against the stop button on the button panel, and kept her hand there, boxing him in against the wall even after the elevator had halted, the counting hand stuck between four and three.

“Don’t lie to me, Ernest.”

One Month Ago—City Headquarters

It wasn’t like there was, say, an initiation ceremony or anything. They’d been through that already, there was no need to do one again. You knew what you were getting into this time, you were just, “changing sides”. And it was so subtle that it barely mattered. Nothing about Ernest’s life really changed otherwise. He ran a hotel with his brothers. He ranked tea brands with Dewey during lunch. He played loud music in Room 784. He carried a lighter in his pocket that he used for other things. He went to headquarters, sometimes as himself, sometimes as Frank, never as Dewey. He acquired messages, and took his sweet time delivering them or delaying them, spaces of time where nothing changed, either. He almost wondered what the point had been, until he overheard Frank spout off some noble patter again. At least he wasn’t like that. At least Ernest knew better.

And since nothing had changed, no one knew. Not even the “firestarters” knew there was another one, namely because Ernest hated the name and disliked a great deal of them, but also because Frank made him be so careful about it. He thought a few people in VFD suspected, or at least suspected someone of switching, because everyone could feel something was happening and they were trying to pinpoint a source, and it was only a matter of time before someone suspected a Denouement. Triplets were naturally suspicious. But it wasn’t like they could do anything, even if they ever had proof—how often did anyone know which Denouement they were talking to, anyway? It was likely Ernest could exist like this for the rest of his life.

The thought almost stopped him on his way into the city headquarters. Day after day of calculated, performative nonsense without an end in sight. Age sagged through him. His bones were too heavy and to move them another step was impossible. He kept walking.

What had made Ernest change? That, exactly that. Change. He’d lived in VFD for practically his entire life, and nothing was different there, either. There had been no great strides made towards the nobility they all talked about, only tiny little steps that were easily set back. Ernest watched his friends and his family get sucked in by this big, dramatic fight that never ended, a fight none of them had ever initially had a part in. He’d learned that you couldn’t achieve “nobility”, whatever that even was, by a bunch of absurd spy behavior and kidnapping, or by coded messages and age-old discussions that went nowhere, or by acting like information weighed more than your life, by pretending any of that was normal. None of it did anything. Ernest was going to find some way to make something happen, to make what they’d lost worth it, and if it meant Frank thought he was a traitor, fine. He’d do it even if Frank didn’t appreciate that Ernest was doing it for him.

The note for Frank that he’d intercepted said that there was a file under the fifth floorboard of the back staircase in the city headquarters. Frank was supposed to give it to Kit.

He made his way to the back staircase. It went up to the observatory, which no one had used since Esmé burned that spot into the rug with her telescope out of protest. The corridor and the staircase were, predictably, deserted. Ernest slowly lifted the fifth board, but it came away without resistance, so he pulled it up all the way and saw the slim folder waiting inside. He took it out, replaced the floorboard, and sat down at the bottom of the stairs. He opened it.

He wanted to crumple the folder in his hands but he made himself breathe and look at it. It was the upcoming recruitment list. There were some he recognized faintly, distant associates, long-lived families in VFD, but a majority of the names he’d never seen before. New families to carve apart. He flipped through the pages—addresses, dates, times. A few photographs. Ernest closed his eyes and held them shut tight. When he opened them, he was still looking at the folder.

Of course none of it mattered, he thought bitterly, shoving the folder into his jacket. He could intercept or stop a thousand messages and there would still always be more. There would always be more children, more fires, more lies, and he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t stop it.

Ernest leaned the side of his head against the banister. He thought about Olaf, suddenly. He’d been trying to corner everyone lately, Ernest among them, talking his ear off about big ideas that Ernest agreed with, but Olaf had a habit of taking an age to follow through with them. Ernest did not have the time to wait an age. He’d shared some information with Olaf a few times, on the off chance that it would spur him into action, but Olaf had hidden it away, for “later”, and it obviously had not helped.

Maybe the only way you could fight a long game was to play the long game back. Maybe that was what Olaf was doing. He was on to something, at least, with his words. Maybe Ernest could try again. Maybe he could learn to wait. Maybe the payoff would be worth it. Maybe.

Ernest stood up. He didn’t at all feel like going home, but he wasn’t going to stay at headquarters any longer.

The staircase creaked. When he looked up, he saw Lemony Snicket at the top by the observatory door, standing like he’d always been there.

“What are you doing up there?” Ernest asked.

Lemony watched him carefully. Ernest got the distinct feeling that he was being appraised. He shivered. When they were younger, you could look at Lemony and see the gears working in his head, like watching—yes, like watching change take shape and form and meaning before your eyes. Lemony Snicket was going to do anything, lead them all anywhere. Ernest hadn’t been foolish enough to believe a twelve-year-old in a brown hat was going to demolish VFD from the ground up. Then Lemony had disappeared, and in the years after resurfacing at sixteen, he looked less and less like that powerful, mythical figure everyone had worshiped and more like he’d seen too much. Ernest sympathized.

But here, Ernest finally saw it, that hunger they’d all talked about. In his eyes, bright blue in the shadows. Physical change, a juggernaut of determination. Ernest’s breath caught in his throat.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” Lemony said softly. “Do you think we could talk?”

10:50 PM—The Elevator

Damn.

The disbelief on Kit’s face was gone, replaced by a blazing, dangerous fury, the threatening and exacting professionalism she hid inside her on full display. She wasn’t all that short, Ernest thought, inanely. He wasn’t going to be able to bluff out of this one. She knew. It was significantly more terrifying than Ernest had imagined it would be. How stupid could he have been, to forget about the way that cigarette smoke would cling, to think Kit Snicket wouldn’t notice. “Kit—”

“How long?” Kit demanded.

“Does it matter?”

He could see that it very, very much did. Kit was already disgusted over dating Olaf; that she’d spent so much time with Ernest when he wasn’t on her side was going to eat her alive, Ernest knew. He winced.

“It wasn’t personal,” he tried.

She glared at him. “What were the names Frank was supposed to give me?”

That, he was going to hold on to. They’d already burned the papers, anyway, up in the observatory. No one was going to get that list now. “I guess you’ll never know,” Ernest said.

Her hand clenched on the button panel. She stepped closer. For a wild and uncontrollable second that seemed to spin out into eternity, Ernest imagined she was going to kill him.

“The elevator is going to start again,” she said lowly. “We’re going to walk out into the lobby. You’re not going to make a sound. We’re going to go to headquarters.”

Ernest didn’t like what he was going to do next. But he was always going to have the upper hand for one distinct reason.

He swallowed and straightened the edge of his sleeve. “Who’s going to believe you, Kit?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Regrettably for you, I am at a distinct advantage,” Ernest said. “You and I are the only two people in this elevator. You did think I was Frank. Who will be able to figure out who was who when you try and tell on me? Who can really know for sure?” He hesitated, but it was true. “Why, I could be Dewey, even.”

Kit slapped him across the face, her cheeks flushed a fierce red. The force of it stung hard, knocking Ernest’s head to the side. She removed her hand from the wall and stepped back.

“Does it help if I’m sorry?” he asked, gingerly rubbing the side of his face.

“You aren’t,” Kit said.

Ultimately, it was true. He wasn’t. He was sorry he’d been caught more than that he’d done it. Ernest regretted nothing about what he’d decided to do. Not in his line of work; and Kit was the same, too. But he was sorry he was going to lose a friend.

Kit didn’t have friends, though. You were with or against Kit Snicket, and she always made that abundantly clear. Ernest touched his cheek again, and then lowered his hand.

“I’m not,” he said. He took the elevator key out of his pocket and put it into the lock on the button panel, watching Kit the whole time. She watched him back. The elevator slid into motion, settling down on the third floor.

The doors opened.

11:00 PM—The Ballroom—East Drink Table

“Who?” Jacques asked.

Kit turned slowly back to the dance floor. Was one of them still here? Had she been followed out of the elevator? She locked eyes with a Denouement across the room. Which one? Was it Frank? Was it Ernest, again? Was it Dewey? The clock was still rumbling under her feet. The glass trembled in her hand and she felt almost sick, anger and shame and fear churning through her. She was in a nightmare and she couldn’t shake it off. The triplet held her eyes for a long moment and then walked away.

“Kit.” Jacques had a hand on her arm; he must’ve gotten out of the boxwood. “Who?”

But she couldn’t get the words out, not here. Ernest was right. She was at a disadvantage when she couldn’t prove it. If she pointed the finger now, what would be done? What could be done? How could he do that to Dewey and Frank? To put them in the position where they’d unknowingly cover for him merely by existing? Did they know at all?

What would she do if her own brothers—no. She couldn’t even think it. Kit couldn’t fathom the idea of her brothers doing anything like this.

“We have to find Lemony,” Kit said.

11:02 PM—The Ballroom—Main Doors

Frank still couldn’t find Ernest. He did not have the time for him to be hiding like a child; where was he? Frank had looked everywhere over and over and was back in the same ballroom again, scanning through the associates for what had to be the hundredth time. He caught Kit’s eye—and stopped.

There was cold and intense fear looking back at him. It was unbearable to have it directed at him, and Frank turned away after a few seconds.

Ernest. A thousand possibilities ran through Frank’s head, each of them worse than the last. He had had enough. Frank strode towards the main doors, just as he saw Ernest making his way out of them as fast as possible. Finally. Frank followed him out into the hallway and grabbed onto Ernest’s arm, whirling him around.

“I asked one thing of you tonight,” Frank said.

“Don’t do anything rash,” Ernest repeated. He wrenched his arm out of Frank’s grasp and put his hands in his pockets. “And I didn’t, thank you.”

“Apparently I wasn’t specific enough,” Frank said. “When I said that, I clearly meant, don’t do anything stupid that’s going to compromise the family and our position in it. What information have you been giving Olaf?”

“Who said I was?”

“Olaf.”

“You know, that hurts a little, that you’d believe Olaf over me.”

Frank’s jaw clenched. Fine. Olaf was less important, anyway. “Then what did you do to Kit?”

Ernest raised an eyebrow. “Did I do anything?”

It was agonizing, seeing such a carefully blank mask on your own face staring back at you. Frank didn’t hate him, but he came close. “What have you done, Ernest? Do not lie to me.”

Something fractured through Ernest’s expression. “I just—miscalculated,” he muttered. “She found out.”

“She found out?” Frank echoed, his heart skittering in his chest. It had finally happened, and Frank couldn’t protect Ernest this time. Kit wouldn’t keep this a secret, not by a long shot. By morning—by midnight, because nearly the whole organization was already here—everyone would know. And Ernest didn’t seem the least bit concerned about it. “Ernest—”

“It’s fine,” Ernest said coolly. “Considering she can’t prove it.”

The world detached from Frank’s consciousness. Kit’s fear made a sudden, terrible sense. Ernest had used him as a shield between himself and the organization, on purpose, he’d positioned Frank and Dewey as pawns whose only use was whatever Ernest wanted. Frank could feel his hands shaking. They didn’t feel like his hands.

Ernest sighed. “Don’t look like that,” he said. “You’ve pretended to be me, that’s the only way you would’ve found out about Olaf. Don’t act like you didn’t use our face as an advantage too. That’s what we do. That’s what this family does.”

Anger burned through Frank, hot behind his eyes. That had been different. A sharp fury that had been building somewhere inside him all night snapped apart. “You are not a part of this family.”

He regretted saying it the second the words were out. Of course Ernest was still his brother. That was an immutable fact. But Frank was so tired of trying to hold onto Ernest when Ernest so blatantly didn’t care. He wasn’t looking at family, he was looking at a stranger, who stole his face, who used his name, who threw it around like it meant nothing, who denied everything noble and proper and real. It wasn’t how a brother was supposed to act. But it was how Ernest acted, and now Ernest was staring at him with an open, wounded expression, something Frank hadn’t seen since they were children.

Frank ran a hand over his face. “I didn’t—”

“No.” Ernest’s jaw trembled for a second, his mouth pressing into a thin, flat line. “I don’t think I am.” He took one step back, a hard glare in his eyes, and then walked away from Frank.

11:20 PM—The Rooftop Sunbathing Salon

Ernest hadn’t figured on Frank being angry, because, primarily, he hadn’t figured on Frank finding out at all. He hadn’t figured on Kit realizing what he was doing, either. Well, that was on him, but Frank didn’t need to be so—he didn’t have to say—

Shit, Ernest thought, breathing hard. He came to a stop in the dark, empty hallway some floors up from the ballroom and let himself think it, pressing his palms into his eyes. Shit, shit, shit. He’d have a brother after this, sure, a family member who stood by him and ran a hotel with him and played nice, but he didn’t know if he’d have his brother. He would have an associate, like everyone else, a found family of people who loved on conditions, not a family. Not his family.

He had to find Lemony. Just because he’d been hiding all night didn’t mean he was exempt from this.

Lemony disliked heights, open spaces, and decently-sized bodies of water, which was why Ernest found him on the roof, sitting on one of the pool chairs, his mask discarded beside him. He was studiously avoiding looking at the pool or the ocean or the night sky, dark and enormous above him. The rooftop salon was never used at night, but there were small lights along the edge of the pool and the railing, giving off slivers of stark white light. The brief anger Ernest felt downstairs evaporated the longer he watched Lemony not-watching the world around him. He wanted to say a million and one things to him, but the one that came out was, “Why do you keep doing this to yourself?”

“What do you know about exposure therapy?” Lemony offered as a response.

“Enough to know you probably shouldn’t use it for heights,” Ernest said. “Among other things.”

“Point taken,” Lemony said. “What would you say if I told you I was now too frightened to move?”

“That you brought it on yourself,” Ernest said, but he didn’t mean it. He walked over and sat next to Lemony on the pool chair. Ernest stole a quick glance at him again, brief and fleeting. To look consistently was dangerous; Ernest always had to make a distinct effort not to touch.

“Your sister found out,” he said. “Not about you, but about me. She also hit me.”

Lemony’s head shot up. “What?” He reached out, his fingertips lightly brushing Ernest’s jaw as he turned his face towards him. They trailed warm over his right cheek, where his skin still smarted from Kit’s hand. Here in the dark, Lemony’s eyes were so bright again, full of concern, directed right at him. Ernest held himself so still, barely breathing.

Falling in love, if you could call it that, with Lemony was what Ernest personally considered the most ill-advised thing he’d ever done, even after lying to Kit. Lemony loved other people, and it was clear in everything he did, in the way he looked when they weren’t there. But Lemony understood what Ernest wanted, and Ernest craved that with a destructive ache.

Really, who else were they supposed to fall in love with but each other? They didn’t know anyone else. No one was going to get this life but them. It was probably why half of VFD had a crush on Beatrice, honestly. It was terrible, but none of them seemed to be able to stop doing it. Ernest included.

“You—” Lemony’s hand jerked back, shrinking down between them onto the chair. “What happened?”

“She knew I lied,” Ernest said. “About the information and about being Frank. I got out of it, but—she won’t trust us again, I think. And Frank—probably won’t trust me either.”

“I’m sorry,” Lemony said. “I didn’t mean for—”

Ernest shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault,” he said. It wasn’t. He and Lemony had both just wanted something, desperately. Ultimately, they’d still succeeded, in the end. They had. Change he could hold in his hands had happened. He still felt hollow about it all, everything drained out of him, but he didn’t regret doing it. Not at all. The hurt would go away and he’d do it again. “What we did—that mattered.”

“It did,” Lemony whispered. “But I never like the cost.”

“Why did you do it?” Ernest asked softly.

Lemony smiled ruefully. “I guess I didn’t want to stop trying.”

The real, noble answer, Ernest thought. Why the “firestarters” and Ernest would never get him. He raised his hand. Slowly, without looking, he put it on top of Lemony’s. Lemony turned his hand over and gripped Ernest’s tightly. He knew that the way Lemony would try from this moment forward would be different than the way Ernest would, and he wanted to have this moment while it lasted.

Ernest stood, tugging Lemony up with him, and let go of his hand. “You should go back downstairs,” he said.

11:30 PM—The Ballroom—South Drink Table

The party would be over soon, but you’d never know it, the ballroom still thronging with people. But most of the dancing had died down, and Dewey was taking mental stock of how clean up would start. He found one of the attendant’s silver trays and picked it up, estimating how many glasses he could fit on it.

Frank came back into the ballroom and made a beeline for him, pale. Dewey’s shoulders tensed up yet again. What had happened now?

“I can’t believe it,” Frank muttered, grabbing a wineglass.

“Whoa, hey, hold on.” Dewey took the wineglass back and set it off to the side. “What happened?”

“He—” Which meant it was Ernest. Again. Dewey’s patience with both his brothers tonight was wearing extraordinarily thin. “He’s been passing information to Olaf this whole time.”

“To Olaf?” That was not what Dewey had been expecting. A flare of worry burned through him and curled his hands around the tray. “But—”

“No,” Frank said. “This time, I’ve had enough. I’m tired of covering up for him, and he’s going to have to deal with this mess himself.”

Olaf was certainly a threat in one way or another, but it seemed a disproportionately vicious answer for Frank. Dewey frowned. “Did something else happen?”

Frank looked so—frantic, was maybe the word, a terrifying energy breaking out of him in quick bursts of anger on his face. He looked at Dewey, and the emotion seemed to cage itself back in.

“He was found out,” Frank said quietly. “About being a firestarter.”

Dewey had counted on it happening. It seemed unlikely that it would be able to remain a secret forever. It still hurt to hear. Things wouldn’t be the same as they had been, if people knew about Ernest. Dewey imagined the division between the three of them only growing larger, and he didn’t know if he’d be able to do anything about it if it got too wide.

Something broke in Frank’s expression again, and Dewey startled—it looked like guilt. “Don’t defend him,” Frank hissed. “Dewey, he’s going to get away with it. He’s going to ruin what we’ve worked for, what you’ve worked for in the archives—do you want all of that information in the hands of the enemy?”

Dewey clutched the tray. “Ernest isn’t the enemy,” he said, darkly. The agitation from earlier at the hors d’oeuvres table shot back into him.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Frank said. “I—”

Dewey slammed the silver plate down on the drink table. A real, genuine slam, like he’d never done before, the glasses around it rattling. Frank stared at him, gaping a little.

“He’s still here,” Dewey said. “That’s enough.”

“Dewey—”

“That is enough.”

12:00 AM—The Lobby

Jacques had never seen Kit so unsettled. Even when she’d been arrested she’d kept her composure. But she stood beside him in the empty lobby, tapping her foot against the floor, her arms crossed over her chest. He still couldn’t get out of her what had happened, but it was obvious from her face in the ballroom that whoever betrayed them had to be one of the Denouements. It was a sobering realization, the worst possible outcome of the schism that had been building for too long. One of three identical triplets being a traitor complicated matters, although it was easy to figure out which one it was that had done it. Things were going to change after tonight.

He took a small, brief moment to appreciate that Kit actually wanted to stand next to him and acknowledge him as her brother. Lately, he’d gotten the impression that she couldn’t stand him. But now she needed him, and it was a relief to Jacques to still be needed by his siblings. He never thought he did that successful a job of managing to keep them all together.

The elevator dinged, and Lemony stepped out, adjusting his jacket. The only evidence he’d been at the costume party was the mask tucked under his arm, because his suit was as plain as ever. 

“Finally,” Kit muttered, and she ran over to him, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly, something none of the siblings had done since they were children.

Lemony froze, and then hugged her back. He met Jacques’s eyes across the lobby.

Jacques knew it, immediately. Lemony had played a part in what had happened tonight with Ernest. It shouldn’t have surprised Jacques as much as it did. Lemony had held a perilous position in the organization for years now, and this wasn’t the first time he had wound up disagreeing with Kit about recruitment. But it was the first time it had involved other people. That made it dangerous.

Lemony shook his head a fraction of an inch. Part of Jacques relaxed. The three of them might still be okay. He wondered, with a slight jolt, how the Denouements would fare. 

Kit pulled away from Lemony. “Where were you?”

“Did you know the rooftop sunbathing salon has night lights?” Lemony said. Jacques couldn’t help but chuckle as he walked over to his siblings. “Very pleasant. I recommend it.”

Kit rolled her eyes, and she led Jacques and Lemony through the lobby and out of the hotel.

“I’ll drive you both back,” Jacques said. “It’s on my way.”

“You brought the taxi?” Lemony asked.

“Regrettably,” Jacques sighed. “I still seem to have it.” Headquarters refused to take it back for some reason, even after Jacques insisted he didn’t need it. It had been six months since the initial assignment with it and he was still driving it, and probably would be, for the foreseeable future. He took his keys out of his pocket.

“I’ll drive,” Kit said.

“You will not drive,” Jacques said.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you correctly,” Kit said, snatching the keys out of his hand and walking briskly out of his reach. “Jacques, did you say something about hives? There aren’t any bees nearby.”

“Trees?” Lemony said. He jogged ahead a little and caught up with Kit’s pace. “They do look particularly lush this time of year, now that you mention it.”

“No one is in a rush, and Kit, give me my keys you are not going to drive—” His siblings raced ahead of him down the front drive, and Jacques ran after them into the night.

1:55 AM—The Ballroom

Olivia and Ramona stayed on to help the Denouements clean up. Ramona had insisted, saying that it was no trouble at all, and she owed them for being so kind to host the party. She was very good at insisting; Olivia had never seen anyone able to resist the charm of Ramona cheerfully demanding she was going to help and they were going to have to deal with it. She hid her smile in the champagne flutes she was stacking on a tray as Ramona talked with one of the triplets on the other side of the ballroom. She picked up the one rimmed with half-rings of Ramona’s deep plum lipstick and giggled.

She’d have to tell Ramona about what Jacques told her, of course. But for once, Olivia wasn’t all that worried about dealing with it. It had been an extraordinarily pleasant night otherwise. Ramona was happy, some of the glow back in her face, so Olivia was happy too.

All the glasses were stacked, the plates piled together, the tablecloths folded up, the lights finally dimmed. There was only one Denouement left in the room, and he stopped Olivia and Ramona on their way out. “Olivia, could I speak with you?”

“Of course,” Olivia said.

“I’ll wait for you outside,” Ramona said, squeezing her hand, and she disappeared down the hallway, the hem of her dress sweeping the floor behind her.

Some people expected Olivia to be able to tell the Denouements apart, and some people expected her to be as clueless as most others as to who she was talking to. It wasn’t terribly hard to tell them apart, because Olivia liked to pay attention, but what she could never remember what when she was supposed to know and when she wasn’t. Here, she knew the one in front of her was Frank, most definitely. There was a weight to the way Frank carried himself, not like he assumed he was in control, but like he assumed he had to be.

“What is it, Frank?” Olivia asked.

He hesitated, which was rare for Frank. “When was the last time you saw Miranda?”

Olivia blinked. Had she misheard him? “What?”

“Miranda,” Frank said again. She hadn’t misheard. “When was the last time you saw her?”

Miranda?

“I—I don’t know,” she said quickly. “I—” When was the last time she saw Miranda? Years and years ago, wasn’t it? Shortly after they’d been taken. Olivia hadn’t minded. Miranda was older than her, not by much but by enough, and enough that they weren’t kept together. Miranda had thought it a chore to look after her, and Olivia hadn’t liked being seen as a chore. She wanted a sister, not a babysitter. So she’d been okay when Miranda was gone. They went to different classes, made different friends, passed each other in the hall without saying a word until their apprenticeships, where Olivia was shuffled around from chaperone to chaperone and Miranda—went where? What had become of her?

The questions spun through her head, dizzying, but they kept coming. What did Miranda look like, now that she thought of it? Had she looked like Olivia at all? Would she recognize her own sibling, like she could easily identify the Denouements? Would she know Miranda if she saw her in a meeting, on the street, at one of these parties, if she was an enemy? But what made a person wasn’t appearance—how did Miranda act? What made Miranda, in the way Frank’s quiet made him? How could she not know what made her sister? Miranda was her sister and it hit Olivia, squarely in the chest, that she didn’t know a single thing about her.

She pressed her knuckles to her mouth, her gaze darting across the floor. How had she gone all this time without thinking about her? How could she not know? How much had she forgotten?

“I’m sorry I asked,” Frank was saying. “Olivia. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Olivia whispered. She took one step back, then another, almost hitting the edge of her dress with the point of her heel, and another, then made herself turn around and leave, back downstairs, through the lobby, anywhere else but there.

Olivia hurried out into the night with the front doors banging open after her; the humid air was sticky on her skin, sitting heavy in her lungs as she tried to inhale. She saw Ramona past the front archway, leaned back against her car a way down the front drive, her shoes beside her and her feet in the grass, the shape of her soft and fuzzy in the heat. Olivia tore off her mask and scrubbed her hand over her eyes, wiping the tears on the side of her dress.

There was a weight on her shoulders, more than just the heat. She had the horrible sense that she was going to turn around and see Miranda. Olivia wanted to leave. She wanted to leave the city, she wanted to go somewhere she’d be away from this. She wanted to take Ramona—would Ramona go with her? She had her own things to care about besides the violent anxiety shaking Olivia from the inside out. She had a duchy to take care of. She didn’t deserve to have to deal with Olivia.

We’d like you to take up the outpost at Caligari Carnival. The carnival was miles from the city, out in the hinterlands, flat and desolate blankness. Maybe she should go. Maybe that would be better. She would be away from the city and be one place where no one had to bother her and she couldn’t bother anyone else. Maybe.

Olivia squeezed her eyes shut again, and when she opened them the tears were gone and Ramona came into focus, all of her slender and beautiful in the moonlight. Olivia ached to look at her.

She went over to Ramona and slid her hand into hers, tucking her face into the smooth skin of Ramona’s shoulder. “I want to go somewhere else,” she whispered.

“Hey,” Ramona said, her other arm coming up and folding around Olivia, drawing her close. “We can go anywhere you want.”

Behind her, through the open front doors, Olivia heard the hotel clock starting to chime again.

[tuyetanliu]

i have many flaws but what no one can say about me is that i’m a bad gift-giver. i remain undefeatable even if i’m busy, my wallet is sobbing in a corner, and i’m nearly in tears myself everyday.

my favourite gifts this year:

a friend reacquainted himself with his fountain pen/ink collection so i hunted for this gorgeous, singular handmade pen made of bog oak with gold-plated accents. i had it engraved with his name and his favourite quote from sun yat-sen. i also custom-ordered/designed inks in his signature color (an olive-sage green, one with gold shimmer and one without).

my sister’s room decor package of a gold vintage mirror that i restored for her along with a few framed posters, dried flower in resin jewelry dishes, and a classical chinese painting (from me).

letter-writing sets (fancy, matching japanese sets) with a custom wax seal, wax, and several hand-dried flowers for a friend getting back into their hobbies now that they’ve graduated.

a whole skincare and haircare set for a friend who wants to live her That Girl life. i had to do a lot of sleuthing for this one since i had to go through her entire product history and stalk her instagram.

a friend collects restored books and vintage-esque journals so i hunted for six really old books from around the city and restored them myself (two were from the early 1900s and near damn impossible to rebind/restore). i had a friend visiting from europe pick up journals and book plates i custom ordered from a business in budapest, hungary.

then, the people i like to buy gifts for the most, my parents!! i got them each laptops (i got them on black friday i’m not insane), matching pjs, art supplies (for dad), sewing supplies (for mom), fabric, a new giant pot, studded winter tires, and matching phone cases (for the entire family).

[chogiwank]

Redamancy - Doyoung

A/N: I have more planned for this fiction so I am planning on a part two. Thank you for all your support everyone, I apologize for not posting for so long but I am so thankful for all of you sticking by me. I hope you guys like this story! Feedback and criticism is appreciated. I am slightly rusty in my writing so I do apologize for shitty writing if so. I will try and post more works!

Word Count: 2K

Genre: Angst, Fluff, NonIdol!Doyoung (Established Relationship)

Warnings: death and mentions of cancer. Future mentions of ghosts/supernatural (possibly).

Summary: Redemancy -  an act of loving the one who loves you. She was looking for redemancy, she found it, but she could never keep it. Will she ever get a fate anything less than cruel?

Each morning she woke up to the polaroid covered wall. Plastered with old, once happy, now sorrowful memories. The reminisce of goofy, romantic dates: road trips, plane travels, stay at home dates alongside many others. Five years together gave a lot to remember with promises of marriage, a forever home, and children. The vows proved to be vain. On her nightstand lay the last Polaroid of their final date. The last Polaroid of his smile, she would never see again. His signature gummy smile, big and bright as he sat on the bench. A plaid green shirt, paired with his jeans and sneakers, a simple exterior. The background lit up from the strings of carnival lights, and behind were strings of the multiple events that happened prior and after. It brought despair, a lost future, he who had captured her heart, now a mere memory, broke her.

She pulls the white duvet covers over her face out of annoyance, from the bright warm light rays shining in her face, through the crack in the curtains. She rolls over successfully escaping the light, but the covers were too hot to burrito under. Eventually giving up, she throws the covers to the side, and sits up on the side of the bed. Her legs dangling over the edge of the bed, she scoots forward to stand up. Stretching her body and yawning out of her cozy slumber. She checks the time on the wall clock, 9:15 AM - a perfect time to wake up for the weekend and start having some fun. She walked off to the bathroom to get ready and prepare herself for the day.

            She brushes her teeth with mint flavoured toothpaste and brushes out her bed hair. Brushing out the hair gently, to soften it and take out the fizziness, and settling down flyaways. Through her process of fixing her looks and picking out clothes, she got hungry, craving something such as French toast with a drink on the side and some fruits - not too heavy and not too light of a breakfast. And so, she puts on her outfit of choice, sliding on her shoes at the door, but her ears perk up hearing a ding at her apartment door.

            Who could it be? She wondered. She did not make plans with anyone before, its so out of the blue.  She opens her door and sees a familiar face - her boyfriend, Doyoung.

            “Dons! Hey, love, what are you doing here? “She embraced him warmly and flashed a welcoming smile.

            “Don’t you remember Y/N? It’s the special day today!” She was confused, she furrowed her brows at Doyoung’s words. Doyoung caught on at her confused expression and chuckled, “OH! Do not tell me you forgot! It’s our five-year anniversary, baby!” Her eyes grew wide at his words, and cheeks flushed from embarrassment. Frantically apologizing to him, as she completely missed the date and did not even have anything to buy him. He told her not to worry, and to follow him out. He knew she must be hungry, so they caught a bus over to their favourite café in town to buy breakfast. She thanked him and happily dug into her breakfast, her stomach was growling throughout the car ride, and Doyoung kept teasing her about it. She couldn’t help it, when a girl has to eat, she has to eat!

And so, the couple finished their breakfast and Doyoung suggested that the two catch a bus and head over to the annual summer amusement park. She gleamed with joy, excitedly grasping his hand in hers. Glancing at the clock on the wall, she quickly dug through her bag, left a tip on the table for the workers, and  tugged him out of his seat, dragging him along, running towards the bus stop, “well then we better get going, or else we’re going to miss the bus!”

            And so, the two ran as fast as they could, laughing as they catch the bus last minute, thankfully the driver was kind enough to stop the bus and open up the doors again for the two. They thanked the driver and walked to grab a seat. Panting and quietly chuckling catching their breathes after running, they sat at the back of the bus. “wow, that’s about all the exercise I need today“  Y/N laughed at Doyoung’s comment. Hitting him with a witty response, “you do not even exercise, do not even say that!”

            The bus ride was about a thirty-minute (30) ride to the amusement park near the pier. Doyoung and Y/N made non-stop conversation the whole way, these two never stopped talking when they were together – honestly, that is one of the best things ever. When you have someone, you can continuously talk and talk and talk to, without either of you getting bored or tired. And that is the same person you can have a couple moments of silence with without the awkwardness which occurs. – These two were meant to be. Friends, best friends, and girlfriend and boyfriend. There was nothing more either one could ask more for.

            The two walked across the pier decorated with food, tickets, and game stalls. The waves of the blue coloured water below hit the pillars of the pier lightly. Doyoung stopped in his steps to play one of the pier games, a ring toss game. If he gets all of the rings in, he wins the big prize. He played the game and ultimately won, asking Y/N to pick out the prize and she got the giant stuffed plushie, “ I don’t know how we’re going to carry this around but for you, anything. Don’t lose it though you air head.” Doyoung teased Y/N, messing up her hair. She pouts at him for doing so, and turned her back on him, until she felt his fingers creep up her sides to tickle her. She laughed her lovely laugh and begged him to stop, and so he did – after a couple minutes that is.

They carried on with their day at the amusement park, playing many of the games, winning multiple prizes, no more big ones though, they did not even have a car to carry them, or the luck. The couple walked around and at the end of the pier they reached the rides. Roller coaster, ferries wheel, teacups rides, all that fun amusement park stuff. They were both thrill seekers, so of course, they ran to the biggest roller coaster first. The waiting line was 45 minutes though, but worth it - the ride was amazing and gave them great excitement. They moved on to the other rides, like the teacups, Y/N messed around and spun them faster and faster, until the two got dizzy. They walked off that ride with wobbly legs, holding on to one another to make sure they did not fall. That was enough for the rides for them today.

After a while, they moved on to trying the different food stalls – hotdogs, nachos, cotton candy, ice cream. All of it, until the two began to feel sick. They were not going to return to the rides after this, neither of them needed to throw up today and inconvenience themselves. They took a break and sat on one of the benches decorated with potted fern plants at each side. They talked and cracked jokes, admired the beautiful, coloured lights lit up around them, all around and throughout the amusement park. Basking in the cheers around them and the darkness of the night lit up from stringed lights, the twinkling stars and smiling moon.

There was a photographer taking pictures near the fountains, which switched through purple, blue, green, and red lights, giving them colour. They asked the man and paid their fee to have their photograph taken, he kindly accepted. He told them to pose and Doyoung lifted Y/N up into his arms, and spun her around. The photographer snapped a beautiful picture of them in the dark, fountains behind them in purple, and the couple lovingly smiling at each other. The love in their eyes bright, and true for each other. They thanked him and took their polaroid, amazed at the picture.

Later, Doyoung asks Y/N if she feels good enough to head on to the Ferris wheel, and then head home. It was 10 o’clock of the night, she happily nodded. And so, they walked towards the Ferris wheel and waited in line for their turn. Doyoung helped her step in, teasingly, Y/N curtsied as he helped her in, grabbing her hand, following her in after. They sat on one side of the Ferris wheel box, Doyoung’s arm around her, resting on her shoulder and her head on his shoulder. They slouched in their seats and admired the view of the pier. The shinning lights were so bright underneath them as the ride took them higher and higher. Finally reaching the top the ride stopped, letting them look at the town feeling like they were on top of the world.

The impeccable view of the park and town was breathtaking. The dark night was lit up by the lights in apartments, houses, and the amusement parks rides. The moon was glowing brightly, and the stars were out to compliment it, there was no cloud in sight, a clear night sky. There was something about the nighttime that was entrancing, maybe it was the view they had, or maybe Y/N loved this hour of the day more than the mornings and afternoons. No idea. But this day, this night was different, it was too good to be true and one of the best days she has had with Doyoung in a while. She lift her head up to look at Doyoung and he flashed his gummy smile at her.

That was when Doyoung broke apart from Y/N, reached into his trench coat’s pocket and pulled out a small red velvet box. Y/N was puzzled, furrowing her brows, and tilting her head in confusion. Her eyes grew wide as she sees him get down on one knee, look up at her, pop open the box and reveal a ring, with a gorgeous diamond in the middle, shaped like a circle, two tiny complimentary circle shaped diamonds decorated it. It was a gorgeous ring, and Y/N’s tongue felt like it was caught on something, her chest felt heavy, but she was happy. He flashes his gummy smile again , and asks her for her hand in marriage, to live together as husband and wife. If she was ready for that step. She was, she really was ready. But did not know how to express it. She felt nervous, but why? She did not know but she knew she could not say no. Although verbally that was hard for her, she lost her words. Instead, she took the ring and slide it on her left ring finger. Smiling and crying a couple tears of joy, she says a soft “I do,” and throws herself around Doyoung, embracing him in a tight hug. The two whisper each other sweet I love you’s, holding each other close as the ride starts up again, and brings them down from the top.

Full of glee, the two walk out hand in hand, giving each other a quick kiss. Y/N speaks up and asks, “why don’t you stay over at my place today? It is late, might as well.” He happily accepts, and the couple begins to walk out of the amusement park. They walked together for about 5 minutes to reach the nearest gas station, where the bus stop was. The bus stop bench was empty, perfect for them to sit for the next 10 minutes, until the bus was arriving. Doyoung excused himself to head to the gas station’s bathroom, “I think I drank too much of those sodas.” Y/N nodded and smiled at Doyoung as he heads inside.

She took out her phone to scroll through her social media while she was waiting for him. Laughing at the funny pictures showing up on her Instagram feed. Suddenly, she hears loud noises coming from behind her, in the gas station. She turns around and her eyes grow wide out of fear. She sees Doyoung and the cashier held at gunpoint from the robbers. She did not know what to do, should she call the police? Does she run? Can she jump in to help and save Doyoung? She must save him, but she can’t she’s defenseless. She panics, looking around to see if anyone at all is there she can call out to. No one, no one was there just her, just Doyoung and the cashier. They were held at gunpoint, she was there away from the danger, she had to call the police. With shaky hands, she watches the cashier pull out the money from the machine, and she begins dialing the emergency number. Her breathing was hard, she felt choked up, her eyesight blurring from tears. She heard a voice on the other line answer, and she explained the situation – the lady confirmed they will be sending police over right now, and that Y/N should keep herself somewhere safe.

And so, the line went dead, Y/N eyes frantically shifted, and breath hitched as one of the robbers shot the cashier with their gun, and the same one shot Doyoung. Right in front of her eyes. She screamed out for him and panicked even more. She ran, and ran, and ran far from the danger. She ran down to the trees, to blend in with the darkness – to avoid the same misfortune which she experienced Doyoung face.

She mumbled to herself, angry, scared, distraught. She cried and cried and cried, she punched the ground with her hand. What is this cruel fate? What is this? Why would this happen? This could not happen. Today was so perfect, so amazing, so fun. Why would such a cruel fate take over? Maybe she just passed out after the immense amount of cotton candy and hotdogs she ate; it was just a nightmare in a food comma right? Wake up, Y/N, wake up! She screamed in her thoughts repeatedly.

And then, she noticed her hand. Her left hand and ring finger. She spots the silver diamond ring Doyoung gave her, and she knew she had to face the truth. She had to accept that the universe just took him from her. They took away her love, the one person she invested herself in for five years. Took away someone who loved her in all her best and worst times. He helped her when her mother died from cancer – it was the hardest thing she ever went through. Seeing her mother’s health deteriorate for two years, as she fought a never-ending battle, that kept taking her life away, slowly, painfully. It made Y/N lose her sleep, and it made her school grades suffer, it made her emotional stability a mess. It made her a mess. But Doyoung was there for her, to help her, to comfort her. She was a wreck, and he was her support when she lost one of the people she truly loved and cared for. And then came Doyoung, he began to build her up. He made her believe there was more for her to live for. Her mother’s life was not hers. Her mother would want her to continue and not give up. She needs to continue life and continue happily. That is what he told her. That was six years ago, last year of highschool. And now, she lost the person who built her up when she was broken. That shattered her. It shattered her heart into millions of pieces. The pain she had not felt for five years, returned.

The pain was going to ruin her again. She felt as if the universe despised her, and her happiness. She was always refused to have happiness, true happiness that is. Her happiness with her mother was snatched away, and now her happiness with her boyfriend, her fiancée, the love of her life was taken away. She could not get any of it back. She could not even erase the memories from her mind. It was such a tragedy, she hated it. She hated herself. She hated her fate, and whatever it had planned for her. She knew there could not be anything good ahead for her. Not after this, she can not trust what it holds for her. She does not want to know or experience this anymore.

Out of her anger and sadness, she strikes a hard punch to the tree, her knuckles becoming scratched and bloody. It was her fault. Her mom, Doyoung and any other death she experiences in front of her, was probably going to be her fault. She should have helped them. She should have gone inside to help Doyoung, maybe, maybe if she did, he would be alive. Or she would at least be in his place, or even with him. She would not have to be lonely.

That is what she hated so much, she was always lonely, and when she was not, she ultimately ended up alone again. For once, she felt like she did not need to be, but now it just proves to her, she deserves her loneliness.

And so, Y/N at this point believed not all stories have happy endings, and hers, was never meant to be happy.

[airplanned]

Guardian!Zelda AU - part 6

Part 1...Part 5, Part 6 - The Stable

Longer than usual!

***

Ahead, he could see a structure.  One that was still amazingly in use.    It was like a big, colorful tent with what looked like a giant horse head on top.

 Although he'd seen several people on the road, he'd never seen more than two together at once.  He hadn't heard the sound of another person's voice in nearly a week. His eyes widened and he kneed the horse to a quicker pace.

The guardian at his side picked up speed too.

Oh, wait.  That wouldn't do.

He pulled the horse to a halt and turned to the guardian with a frown.  It offered him a questioning gong in response.

He gave it a pointed look. He wasn't absolutely sure (since he was new around here), but it seemed like a guardian marching up to a bunch of people was a recipe for disaster. Maybe he was wrong and everyone knew about this guardian anomaly and how it was helpful instead of ready to kill everyone.  But he doubted it.

It gonged at him again.

"Do you know those people?" he asked.

It froze.  Then it twisted its head back and forth in a smooth shake.

He raised his eyebrows.

The guardian shuffled its feet, its eye lowering to the ground between them. He offered it a sad smile and reached out to rub the side of its head.  "They might have supplies.  I'll check it out.  You stay back."  He was running low on arrows.  And maybe he could make some food that he wouldn't have to eat raw or seared over an open flame.  He desperately needed a real pair of boots.  And if he could find clothes that fit, he would feel infinitely more confident in himself.   The guardian still didn't look happy.  Anxious?  Excluded and lonely?  It was hard to tell.

"We'll meet up again tonight."  He leaned over the horse's side to duck down into its line of sight.  "I'll get you a present?"  He had no idea what he'd get for it, or if there would even be anything worth having.

The guardian stared at him.  Then it shifted back and dragged a claw through the dirt road, making a sketch of a crescent moon.  Link blinked at it, startled.  The guardian could communicate?  He hadn't known that.  Had it been holding out on him?  Or, well, maybe this wasn't all that much of a conversation.

He nodded slowly.  "Tonight," he agreed.

The guardian hesitated, and then stepped back, slowly retreating off the road and towards a nearby hill.  It would probably be able to keep an eye on him.  He needed to make sure he didn't get into trouble, or it would barge into the tent and tear down a wall.

He also had to not look too excited approaching the tent.  

The place was a stable where he could board the horse.  He wondered if they would believe him if he tried to claim the guardian was a horse.  Probably not.  They gave him a saddle and bridle, and he named the horse "Gong" so that the guardian could say its name.  The stable master didn't get the joke and gave him a weird look.  Link got the horse some food and a good brushing and her mane done all pretty, and by the time he was done taking care of her, the stable hand was frustrated with how little gossip he had to offer.  It wasn't really his fault.  He only had a couple weeks worth of memories, and those mostly involved a machine that he couldn't talk about.  To give her something, he told her where he found some mushrooms the other day, but she frowned at him and walked away.  He felt bad about that.

A merchant was thankfully selling arrows, but not clothes.  He wanted Link to buy a bunch of butterflies and sell him some beetles, and Link got away as quickly as he could.  He felt bad about that too.

There was a man who told him about a tower up ahead and about a fairy fountain he could reach.  Before Link could ask questions, he handed Link 500 rupees to give the fairy for him.  Link had never seen so much money.  He didn't understand why the man couldn't go to the fairy fountain himself, but he didn't ask.

There was a man who told him about drawings on a far cliff side, which Link marked on his map even though it was too far away to visit anytime soon and he had no idea why he would care.  The man didn't like hearing that.  Someone else gave him directions across the great bridge to the nearby tower and onward to Rito Village, a place where it sounded like even more people lived!

The thought was actually a little anxiety provoking.  He wasn’t doing great with these few people.

He calmed himself by cooking up a bunch of meals in the cooking pot.  He managed to find a comb for his hair and a washcloth for his face and armpits.

There was a shrine nearby that he knocked out easily.

And then he had a couple hours to kill before the sun set.  He should probably go talk to the people more.  It sounded like a long way to the next village.  But he didn't know what to say.  His shoulders rose up around his ears the longer he thought about it.

Maybe he wouldn't talk to anyone.

He found some flowers and wildberries nearby and braided up another flower crown with dark greenery and bursts of maroon and white.  He threaded more through the horse's hair, and then made a crown for himself.  It looked really out of place with his worn old shirt.

When the sun set and darkness fell, he took out his horse and headed up the mountain to find the guardian.  It perked at the sight of him, rushing up out of the shadows and then pulling itself short when it was only a few feet away.  The tension in his shoulders eased, and he smiled up at it.  It showed him a pile of mushrooms and herbs it had gathered, and he secured the flower crown over its head.

When it was too dark to be seen and it looked as if most of the people at the stable had gone to sleep, they snuck to the Great Tabantha Bridge and hurried across.

#

Part 7

[longing-and-heartache-and-lust]

the drug, the dark, the light, the flame, Ch.II

[previous] [next] [Ao3]

A second chapter for my work for this year’s @geraskierbigbang with the wonderful @gen-syz-art as my artist ✨

_________________

When Geralt wakes up in the morning, the sun is already high in the sky.

The bed is wide and comfortable, probably the most comfortable out of all the ones he'd ever slept in. The soft furs are a pleasant warmth against his bare skin and when he opens his eyes, he feels the most rested he'd been in a very long time.

It's long past breakfast and he feels a stab of guilt somewhere in his gut, seeing that he'd promised Julian he was going to join him but as it turned out, he was much more tired than he thought. The long weeks on the Path, the hunt the day before and the wounds on his shoulder have all worn him out, and it's only now that his body had finally caught on.

Geralt stretches with a soft moan, careful not to disturb his shoulder, and turns to his other side, looking around the room with heavy-lidded eyes.

In the warm light of the summer sun, it doesn't feel strange anymore.

The golds and reds of the interior make the room feel comfortable, even though it's a little too much for Geralt's taste. The room feels luxurious and Geralt can't even phantom the cost of the heavy velvet curtains or the paintings in golden frames but yet, it doesn't feel like too much .

It doesn't feel like a bedroom in a castle, where its only real purpose is showing the guests just how rich the host is. It feels like a bedroom of a home that someone loves and decorates accordingly. It just so happened that said home is an enormous mansion.

Geralt counts twelve pillows and cushions on the bed, all of them a deep ruby colour and varying in sizes, and, against his own better judgement, burrows himself deeper into them, his entire body melting into the soft silk sheets.

It's the exact opposite of what he should do, he knows it. He knows that this is not meant for him, that he's not supposed to pass the time in beds like this, burrowed in what probably are the best furs in the entire region, but somewhere deep in his bones, his body still aches with exhaustion and stress, and if he can have this, just once in his life, he's going to take it.

He just doesn't have it in him to deny himself this opportunity.

And Roach, he tells himself, needs a little more rest, too.

The forest behind the giant arc-shaped windows is tranquil, the wind a soft, calming whisper through the treetops, and Geralt doesn't even notice when he falls asleep again, warm and comfortable.

***

The second time he wakes, the sun is at its zenith, so it must be around midday.

Cursing under his breath, Geralt makes himself sit up on the bed and then get out of it completely, though very reluctantly. He'd never really had problems with getting out of bed, even when he was still an adept in Kaer Morhen and had to get up before sunrise every morning, and now this unfamiliar gravity feels strange but not unpleasant.

As he dresses, there is a knock on the door, and when he opens it, there is a tall man waiting in the hallway. Geralt can tell that he is in his fifties but the formal suit and perfect posture make him look younger.

"Master Witcher," he greets. "I hope I have not disturbed you. Master Julian asked me to take you into the dining room once you have woken up."

The majordomo, Geralt thinks.

He nods, saying that he needs a few minutes, and goes back to his armour, tightening all the straps and clasping the buckles, once again feeling a little twist of guilt for not having joined Julian in the morning, as he'd promised. It was plain rude of him, really, and though there weren't a lot of things that Geralt hated more than apologising, he knew he'd going to have to.

After all, there was only so much he could do.

He fixes the swords behind his back and looks around the room just one more time before stepping out of it and closing the door. It's almost upsetting that he'd only got to spend one night in a bed like that.

The majordomo takes him through the corridors and with the warm light streaming through the windows, they don't look ominous anymore, though the witcher still finds them absolutely endless. There are paintings, sculptures and potted plants along the walls, and though Geralt tries not to, he still finds himself looking around a little more than he should.

When they do finally reach the dining room with a big oil painting hung on one of the walls right across from the table, Julian isn't there.

"He must be outside," the butler says, turning around. "If you would follow me, master Witcher."

When the man walks past him, Geralt can feel his medallion hum against his chest but it stops just as abruptly, so he frowns but doesn't pay it much mind.

They take one of what Geralt assumes are many doors to the garden and it's only now that he realises how big it is. What he'd seen last night was but a fraction.

The trees and neatly shaped bushes surround the mansion from all sides, keeping it separated from the forest behind the gates, and it almost feels like a world of its own, independent from the one outside.

Geralt's senses immediately fill with the scent of blooming flowers and ripe fruit, the sound of bird songs and running water somewhere in the distance. A fountain, he decides.

And then, among those sounds, there's Julian's voice.

"Geralt," he smiles, appearing from somewhere behind the corner, a hand over his eyes to protect them from the sun. "I see you've already met Arthur."

"I have," the witcher nods, realising belatedly that he should've asked the majordomo's name himself.

Fuck, he thinks, I am not made for this kind of life.

"I hope you can forgive me for not having joined you for breakfast," he adds and he feels ridiculous , talking this way, but in a place like this, he can't help but feel like he's at court. "As it turns out, fighting off monsters is easier than the gravity of a bed like that."

Julian's smile shines brighter and he laughs, narrowing his eyes at the sun.

"Don't worry about it," he says. "I'm glad you've had some proper rest. But I’m afraid I cannot let you go with an empty stomach.”

It’s already past midday and Geralt knows that he should get going if he wants to get to the town he came from with no rush, get his coin and leave for the next one but he also knows that he can’t refuse.

“Come,” Julian says, brushing his hand over Geralt's arm and beckoning him deeper into the garden towards an arbour. “I’ll ask the stableman to get your horse ready while we eat.”

***

Without really realising, Geralt stays for a couple more hours.

Julian asks him about what’s led him to these regions - aside from the contract - and Geralt just… talks.

It’s easy, somehow - talking to him.

It almost feels natural and in the warm light of the day, Geralt doesn’t feel overwhelmed anymore.

He tells Julian about how he was headed to Oxenfurt when he’d heard about the contract that had led him here and then hums in agreement when, after a moment or two, Julian asks if he’s from the School of the Wolf.

“You seem to know the Schools much better than the majority of people I come across on the Path,” Geralt says, very dimly aware of how much time had passed.

Julian just shrugs with one shoulder, a smile on his lips, and gestures towards the library windows with a move of his wrist.

“I’ve read quite a lot about witchers, ever since the Academy,” he explains. “I’ve been friends with a medical student and one of her professors was rather… passionate about mutagens and the Trials. He would tell his students his thoughts on the matter every now and then, and she would then tell them to me, because we used to tell each other everything. I got interested and, before I really knew it, I’ve read everything the library could provide on the subject.”

An academic interest, Geralt thinks, watching the way Julian’s cornflower-blue eyes flick to the medallion on his chest and then back to one of the rose bushes that he’d been using as a distraction point during the entire conversation. When his gaze would linger for a little too long and he would notice, it would immediately snap to the rosebush.

It was almost… pleasant, the way he looked at Geralt with a glint in his eyes.

“And, well,” Julian goes on after a moment, meeting Geralt’s eyes again with an easy, relaxed smile. “My previous witcher guest was rather talkative. He stayed here for a couple of days and, once he learned about my interest, proposed that as a gratitude for my hospitality, he shall answer any questions that I might have about witchers. I took on the opportunity and, somehow, we stayed up until the early hours of the morning, just talking, every day that he was here.”

Geralt chuckles, reluctantly admitting to himself that maybe, if he was to stay for another day or two, they could also stay up and talk well into the night.

But, of course, that is not an option. Roach is well-rested, and his shoulder is bandaged, there are no more reasons for him to stay. After all, he was an uninvited guest, to begin with.

But even so, he almost feels sorry that he has to leave, because Julian just… talks to him.

Like they’re equals, like Geralt isn’t a result of Trials and mutations - a monster hunter, yes - but also a killer. He doubts that there is anyone in the North that has not heard of The Butcher of Blaviken, the white-haired witcher that had caused carnage in the middle of the town.

But Julian doesn’t smell of fear, doesn’t smell of hatred. He talks to him not like Blaviken had never happened, he talks to him like he knows why it happened. Like he knows he had to choose between two wrong options and not choosing at all was more than he could bear.

Don’t get lost in your illusions, Geralt has to tell himself quickly, cutting his train of thought short, He’s just abiding by the rules of hospitality, he doesn't even know about Blaviken.

“What did you say his name was?” he asks, just to drown out his own voice in his head. “Aiden?”

Julian hums an affirmative and it almost feels like that name is familiar to Geralt, but he can’t remember, how. Must’ve heard it somewhere, he decides.

“I’ve seen him a couple more times after that, actually,” Julian says. “Whenever he’s nearby, he comes to visit.”

When Geralt bites his tongue, it’s too late and the question had already been spoken:

“Just a friend?”

Fuck, he thinks, immediately.

Julian’s eyes snap to meet his, slightly widened with surprise and Geralt half-expects anger but the younger man just laughs, open and sweet, like a birdsong.

“Yes, for better or for worse,” he says. “There is another that owns his heart. Or, at least, so I’m told.”

Geralt has no idea on what he’s supposed to say to that so, instead, he chooses to stand up promptly.

“Well,” he says, controlling his voice carefully. “I’m afraid, I must leave now. The alderman must be expecting me.”

Julian stands up, as well, and, thankfully, doesn’t comment on the much more obvious reason for the witcher’s sudden desire to leave. And if he does take Geralt up and down once before stepping out of the arbour and leading his back towards the stables, Geralt admits that he deserves it.

***

“I hope the alderman pays you what he’d promised,” Julian says when they reach the gates, Geralt leading Roach by the reins.

He’s usually good at reading people’s emotions - either by smell or by the look in their eyes - but the shadow that slithers across the blue of Julian’s eyes when he looks at the forest beyond the gates is not something he can identify. His scent changes, too, an undertone of something that Geralt can’t describe in any way other than longing mixing into Julian’s own smell - something warm and almost familiar, like vanilla and dried herbs.  

This time Geralt stops himself in time and doesn’t ask.

“Thank you,” he says instead, pulling himself up into the saddle. “For everything. Last night would’ve been a hard one if it wasn’t for you.”  

Julian smiles at him, running his hand up and down Roach’s neck which, strangely, she seems to enjoy.

“My pleasure,” he replies and when he takes his hand away, Geralt has to tell himself that the way the tips of his fingers brush over his knee is accidental.

Julian opens the gates and steps aside to let Geralt and Roach through, Lucio and Asra at his side like they have always been there, even though the witcher is sure that they were absent back in the arbour.

“Travel safe,” Julian says when Geralt turns around to look at him and the mansion one last time.

It’s strange, hearing it from anyone other than his brothers or Vesemir, and though he replies with only a carefully guarded nod, it turns something over deep inside his chest.

[gaemkyuu]

Of Kings & Queens (Part 5)

Warnings: none!  A/N: We’re almost to the end! I’ve already finished the entire series, just proof reading the last part but also contemplating if I should change the way it ends... Regardless, hope you enjoy this part!  AU!Prince Charlie Gillespie x Fictional Character Disclaimer: This is a FICITONAL writing piece! In no way do I claim characters in this piece act this way in real life.

Masterlist *now taking requests ;)

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3/Part 4/Part 5/Part 6

Olivia sat in her seat at the small dining table that was arranged for them in the atrium, lost in her thoughts. She wasn’t quite sure what possessed her to request this rendez-vous with Charlie in such a formal manner to her father and it bothered her that she was actually nervous. She had never felt this way before and it made her feel insecure. The desire to rule the Kingdom on her own had always been the forefront of her vision, yet before falling into a restless sleep she could only think about Charlie. Savannah was concerned this morning when she woke Olivia to get her ready for the day, as it looked like Olivia had barely slept. She took a deep breath and gave a big sigh, looking out the glass windows into the beautiful day and listening to the birds chirping.

“Am I interrupting something?” she jumped at the amused voice and immediately Charlie looked apologetic. “I didn’t mean to scare you... You okay?”

“Yeah, I was just thinking about stuff. Hungry?” Olivia had asked the guards and attendants to leave them in peace and that she would call on someone if they were needed. On the table in front of them were dainty pastries, both sweet and savory, along with a pot of tea. She frowned as she forgot to drink her tea and it now sat in its cup lukewarm. 

“Starving. Mind if I move the chair?” she shook her head no and instead of sitting across from her, Charlie now sat beside her. She made the first move by putting one of her favorite pastries on Charlie’s plate and then took one for herself. He poured himself a cup of tea, something Olivia had never seen another man do before. She admired his casualness around him, almost as though there were no formalities. Just two people having a nice breakfast, in the beautiful morning sunlight, enjoying each other’s company. “Guess I made quite the impression on you last night to be summoned to breakfast this morning?”

“I wanted to thank you, actually. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you didn’t follow me out into the garden. Savannah expresses her gratitude too, that’s why she gave us some extra sweets” Olivia couldn’t understand why she felt so excited. She was doing her best to maintain her composure, but she would be lying if she said that she wasn’t fighting the urge to bounce her leg.

“You didn’t need to put this on to thank me, but these strawberry tart are extremely delicious” Olivia giggled as she wiped a crumb off the corner of his mouth, the gesture making him blush. She thought that was extremely cute and she didn’t realize that she was smiling big for him, until he took another bite and smiled back smugly. Her face felt a rush of heat and she cleared her throat awkwardly. “So what’s on your mind?”

“What do you mean?” Charlie chuckled, but accidently inhaled while chewing and choked a bit on the flaky pastry, making Olivia laugh. Charlie sipped on some water and cleared his throat, making sure to dust off any crumbs on him.

“You have a beautiful laugh Princess” she flushed at his compliment and drank her tea hoping to hide her expression. “I mean it. It’s genuine, not snooty at all”

“Olivia is fine, and you’re being nice. I’ve been told I laugh too loudly” Charlie looked at her baffled and confused at the statement.

“What? How are you supposed to laugh, like hihihihihi” his high pitched imitation made her laugh again and he joined in on the laughter this time. They engaged in a ‘who could make the most ridiculous laugh’ battle and by the end of it they were clutching their sides and gasping for air. “You’re too funny”

“My lady?” they didn’t realize that Savannah had knocked on the door, and both of them froze for a moment, thinking their families had caught them being fooling around. “My sincerest apologies for interrupting, but it’s nearly time for his highness to meet with the rest of the Council”

“Thank you Savannah, we shall finish up quickly” Savannah gave her a sad smile, apologetic but duty called. Olivia’s smile faltered as the door closed, remembering that there was an important Council meeting between the Kingdoms of the Nation, but she wasn’t allowed to attend. Charlie noticed this and took her hand in his.

“Don’t let it discourage you Liv. If you could take my place, I’d let you. You’ll be a part of Council decisions one day, they’d be stupid not to let you.” She smiled at the nickname he had given her and at the words of encouragement. As much as she wanted to believe Charlie, she knew that the chances that her presence was requested at the Council meeting was slim. “I really enjoyed our time together... Think we could do this again?”

“When are you leaving?” he paused for a second to think.

“In about three days, but knowing Pat, I’ll be in and out of Nation Affairs meetings. Say the word and I’ll sneak out!” she smiled at his rebelliousness. 

“Then I shall see you later today and tomorrow and the day after that” the smile on his face was huge and he kissed the back of her hand in appreciation. He stood as the doors opened and their guards stepped in to escort them to their respective schedules. Giving her a dashing smile and a formal bow, he winked before leaving her. As he stepped out the doors of the atrium he looked back at her once more and smiled. Savannah noticed the giant smile and blush that crept onto Olivia’s face and gave her a small teasing nudge.

“So we have a contender?” Olivia rolled her eyes at her friend and began walking to their next affair.

***

True to her word, Olivia and Charlie met up several times over the course of three days. Some days they were arranged formally between both families and other times it would be Charlie climbing onto Olivia’s balcony while she was playing the piano. They truly enjoyed each other’s company and sense of humour, and by seeing one another, they were able to breathe comfortably. Much to their displeasure, the three days passed quicker than they wished, and as they walked the Palace gardens the night before Charlie left, a heavy and serious silence hung between them. The Royal Families had dinner together and the two of them kept making glances towards each other, each exchanging a silent conversation. After many exchanges and courses later, Prince Jeremy suggested they go for an evening stroll, and Charlie was quick to catch on. 

Their feet lead them to the same place where they met, the garden’s fountain. Charlie gestured for her to take a seat, which Olivia did and he sat down beside her. Neither said a word, but Olivia rested her head on his shoulder. The physical contact between them had increased, but never amounted to anything more than holding hands or sitting closely to one another. However, anyone could see that these gestures were more than just friendly.

“What will happen when you leave tomorrow?” Olivia dared to start the conversation, knowing that if she left it to Charlie, it probably wouldn’t happen. Charlie shifted uncomfortably for a moment, but not enough to move Olivia’s head off his shoulder.

“I return to the North and you stay here” she scoffed at his plain response, knowing that he was intentionally not answering her question to push her buttons.

“Charlie I’m serious. What is this?” she took her head off his shoulder and angled her body towards him, taking both hands in hers. “I don’t want to jump the gun and make you marry me. That wouldn’t be fair to you or me. We’ve just met” she could see a slight look of hurt cross his eyes and he straightened his spine.

“Have I been misunderstanding our rendez-vous?” Olivia’s eyes widened at the misunderstanding.

“No! No, I mean I really like you, like, like you like you. I just don’t know if this is normal?” Charlie looked confused at her confession. “I don’t know what this is! Like are we a thing? Like do we get married right away or...?” Then it clicked.

“Liv, have you never had a crush before? Or court someone before?” her face became a deep crimson and she avoided eye contact. “So you mean to tell me Princess Olivia has never been on a date prior to her birthday?”

“Well, to be fair I had other priorities. I mean there were people who were interested, I just never had the time of day or interest for them...” She felt shy at the confession, but Charlie’s ego was about to burst. His parents had set him up on multiple dates in hopes that one female would catch his eye and they could officially start a courtship, but it had never gotten past a few one night stands.

“Well, I guess I should ask you then. Where do you want this to go?” Olivia bit her lip, a habit she had when she felt shy to admit something. It drove Charlie wild as he could only imagine how soft her lips would feel against his.

“I mean, I want to keep seeing you and maybe we could talk about getting married, but it kinda feels too soon to talk about it now, y’know?” Charlie chuckled and kissed both of her hands.

“So why don’t we start with courtship? It means that we commit ourselves to each other with marriage in mind, but not so official that our parents can start planning our wedding. We could always call off the courtship if it ever came to that” Charlie didn’t like thinking about the last part in his idea. He already knew that Olivia was a keeper and that to find someone better than her would be impossible, but he didn’t want to force himself onto her given her current situation.

“I would like that very much... We have to tell our families, don’t we?” he nodded and Olivia rolled her eyes, hating that they had to officially let people into their private world. No doubt would she hear about courtship rules from her mother. She gave a big sigh, hating the fact that she couldn’t keep this special thing between the two of them.

“If you sigh any deeper, you might pass out” she elbowed Charlie lightly, as he draped his coat around her, shielding her from the cool breeze of the evening. He pulled her close as she laid her head on his shoulder again, but this time his arm was wrapped around her and he rested his head on top of hers. “Regardless of how much they force themselves to get involved, nothing will change between you and I, Liv”

“I just wish for once that I could keep this to myself. Once we announce our courtship, you know my mom will be on my twenty four seven. Your mom will probably start shopping for wedding bands” He kissed her head softly and held her tightly.

“Then let them Liv. We have our own thing that no one can take away, I promise you.” Olivia moved her head so that she could find reassurance in his eyes. She had come to love the fact that she could read Charlie simply by looking at his eyes. She smiled back at him and nodded her head, accepting his promise. He smiled back and cupped her cheek gently. “Have you ever been kissed?”

“Charlie, I just told you that I turned down every suitor, what makes you think that I-” he stopped her mid-sentence by gently kissing her lips, her eyes fluttering closed. She could see colours exploding behind her closed eyes and as she leaned into the kiss, Charlie took that as a sign to deepen it. Olivia felt scared, nervous, excited and happy. Sure this was all new to her, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was right. As Charlie broke the kiss and leaned into her forehead with his, she found herself slightly out of breath. “Wow...”

“You can say that again”

***

The night after their kiss in the garden, they announced their courtship to their families before Charlie and King Patrick returned to the Northern Kingdom. It would take them three days to arrive back to their palace, in which Charlie would write his first letter to Olivia. This started a never ending stream of letters back and forth between the two lovers that would arrive every week. Olivia fell hard for Charlie and Charlie fell hard for Olivia, something their families were pleased with.

Olivia learned that courtship meant that they would continue to get to know each other and work towards the goal of marriage. She also learned that the amount of touching, cuddling and their kiss was not part of courting. According to her mother, acts of intimacy should occur after marriage, something that Olivia noted to be careful of the next time Charlie and her met. After all, the kisses that they exchanged that evening and before they left made Olivia blush instantly. 

It had been 6 months since she had last had the opportunity to have a moment alone with Charlie. They had seen each other at Jeremy’s Coronation and wedding, but they were being watched, so sneaking away was nearly impossible. But that didn’t stop Charlie from climbing into your guest room and stealing a quick kiss and I love you, before jumping off the balcony again. She whispered ‘I love you too’ after him, feeling giddy inside at his confession, but that was the only interaction they were able to have.

It came to a shock that as Olivia was reading in the library, she heard the trumpets sound, notifying the Palace that a Royal guest had arrived. Running to the window, Olivia saw that it was indeed Charlie and she sprinted out of the library to meet him in the throne room, catching Savannah on her way over. She paused before entering the room, letting Savannah fix her up before she presented herself. The servants opened the door at her signal and she gracefully made her way down the throne room. She resisted every urge to run and jump into his arms, but the closer she got she could tell something was heavily burdening him.

“Princess, thank you for joining us so promptly. Prince Charles has asked to see you and speak with you privately.” the King gave her a knowing look, hinting at what was about to happen, in which Olivia would be happy about, but she knew Charlie well enough at this point to notice his demeanour was different. He seemed tense and avoided her eyes, knowing that if he let her see them, she would know something is wrong. 

“It would be an honour, your Majesty.” She gave a polite curtsy to her father and Charlie. “Prince Charles, if it suits you, would you like to accompany me to the library parlour?” he nodded, the silence remaining, but he followed her lead out of the throne room. They walked the halls silently and Olivia began to worry. Something was definitely bothering him, as by now he would’ve made a quip or remark. As they arrived to their destination she dismissed the servants and guards requesting a moment of privacy with the Prince, but as soon as the door shut, Charlie’s lips were on hers, desperate. She reciprocated the kiss by holding his face, but she also broke it searching his eyes for answers. “Tell me what’s wrong”

Charlie avoided her eyes and walked away from her, pacing the parlour as she took a seat in the red leather chaise, patting a spot next to her for him. He paced around the room a few moments more, running his hands through his hair, but Olivia sat patiently, waiting for him. Finally, he plopped down next to her, head in his hands. She rubbed his back in hopes that she could offer some sort of comfort.

“Marry me.”

The statement came out a shock to Olivia. She knew her feelings were true and that she would gladly say yes, but the way he was acting made it seemed forced and unsure. Charlie saw the hesitation and confusion on her face and sighed.

“Patrick said that if I don’t propose and marry you soon, I’ll be arranged to marry someone else.” She now understood the anxiety and panic in his body language, but she couldn’t help but ask questions.

“To who?” Charlie groaned in frustration, standing up and pacing again.

“Some chick from a foreign Nation that our Nation wants to do trade with. They want some sort of way to seal the deal and Patrick offered me.” his voice became more frantic as he explained the situation.

“Is she beautiful?” Olivia knew it was a stupid question, but her insecurity got the best of her. The question did cause Charlie to stop pacing and kneel before her.

“What does it matter Liv? I love you! I can’t marry someone else” She saw the love for her in his eyes, but she also saw desperation and fear.

“You’re asking me to marry you, but you don’t seem quite happy about it... What else are you keeping from me?” the question came out quiet, but as she finished it was as though time had stopped and completely silenced itself for them.

“The wedding has to be in a month's time, meaning I will be crowned in two weeks, if you accept” Charlie knew what this meant. This marriage would solidify Olivia’s place as Queen and not King. She felt a lump in her throat which she tried to swallow but wouldn’t go away. 

During their written exchanges, Olivia would update Charlie on her situation of trying to convince her parents to consider going against tradition and Charlie would give her ideas on new ways to convince them. In their exchanges, Charlie had suggested ruling as a united couple, where King and Queen were equal in the Council. He had suggested the idea as he knew King Jeremy and Queen Carolynn would support the decision. In addition, King Owen would agree to it. It felt as though Olivia was close to convincing them, but this marriage would seal the deal on all the hard work she had put in to convincing them. If she accepted his proposal now, she would marry right away and forfeit any chances of her becoming King. If she declined his proposal, she would have a higher chance at becoming King, but in return she would forfeit Charlie to another woman in a foreign nation.

“If I say yes to this, I will solidify everything that my mother wanted for me. I give up every hope and dream I had of becoming King.” she knew she should be happy that she would be married to Charlie, but she couldn’t help but feel trapped, like she had no say in the situation other than yes or no.

“This isn’t how I wanted this to go, believe me. But I can’t marry someone I don’t love Liv. I can’t marry someone that isn’t you” Charlie hated that he was asking this of her. “I know what I’m asking from you isn’t fair, and if I could do this any other way I would, but I’ve run out of time Liv.” Tears that had welled up in her eyes finally spilled over, and she felt awful. “Talk to me, love. It’s just you and me.”

“I hate that everything is always being decided for me... I love you, I do and I should be happy that you’re asking me to marry you, but you’re not asking me, you’re being forced to.” she sniffled as he wiped a tear from her face. “I hate that people who aren’t us are making us live our lives in ways that they see fit, completely disregarding you and me...” her voice trembled as she tried to maintain her composure. “I know that in due time you would’ve asked me to marry you and I would gladly accept, but it should’ve been when we were ready. When I had finally convinced my parents that we would rule over the land equally... but what choice do we have now?”

Charlie moved to sit beside her and held her in his arms. She cried into his shoulder at how unfair things felt in the moment. He said nothing, knowing that there wasn’t anything that could be said to remedy the situation. Finally, Charlie pulled away from Olivia and held her face in his hands.

“Olivia, I love you. You don’t have to say yes.” Olivia cried harder as he said this, knowing very well that Charlie would let her walk away and marry someone else so that she could live out her dream. She knew deep down that if she let Charlie go, she would regret it forever. For the first time, there was something that outweighed her desire of becoming King, and that something was Charlie. Through her soft sobs, she nodded her head and stuttered her answer. “Liv?”

“Yes, Charlie. I will marry you”

tag list:  @ifilwtmfc @warmness0ul @starjane312

[xae-in-a-coat]

Xaje(Z-Age): The Poetic Murderer

Yours truly made a Kingdom Hearts/Organization XIII Sona recently & finally decided to post about him here due to the fact that he somehow managed to develop an everlasting fear of people stealing his hard earned brain-work over night. Anyway, just take these small scrap doodles & angst ridden quotes I created earlier. None of this really counts as attention-worthy in my eyes, believe me, I am well aware of the fact at this point, but it’s solely for the sake of me not losing my mind over the possibility of my ideas being stolen anytime soon(plus, truth be told, I’ve actually grown quite fond of this miniscule scheme we artists call “character design”). Now, where were we? Ah yes, my quotes & in-game dialogue:

“Shadows can’t appear without light nor can stars shine without the darkness. In conclusion, our worlds require both one & the other in order to exist within a state of tranquil harmony. Perhaps we should start encountering that terribly desirable goal by changing your uneducated perspective.”

-𝚇𝚊𝚓𝚎

“You blinded light dwellers would never understand, you believe that the world is filled with happiness & success, that even in the darkest of times there’ll always be that last sliver of hope worth holding onto, that all of your feeblest dreams will one day come true. Well you’re wrong. The world is nothing more than darkness in itself, and we’re living proof of that. Us Nobodies were once like you, foolish, ignorant, weak, we clung to those same beliefs that you now spout and look where it’s landed us. An endless, inescapable abyss of nothingness in which we gather & begrudgingly call a home. Welcome to The Castle That Never Was.”

-𝚇𝚊𝚓𝚎

“Do I cause you to question the English language itself? Good. Confusion is the mind’s greatest weakness after all. Along with curiosity of course, but I’ll gladly settle for either of the two.”

-𝚇𝚊𝚓𝚎

“Allow me to put a quick end to this poorly written story of yours. It’s plot is becoming terselessly bland & ever so flavorless, these pages could endanger the less prepared minds of vain readers, & besides, not even the characters seem to know what they’re doing anymore.”

-𝚇𝚊𝚓𝚎

“Thank you, but no. I prefer to eat in private. Being here amongst the presence of all your beautiful faces is causing me to feel deeply self loathsome, or for the less educated, gross.”

-𝚇𝚊𝚓𝚎

“Yeah, I study gems. Nothing crazy though, mainly just a load of Google searches & me being pretentious, heh. Anyway, what was that really cool thing you were doing with that giant key just now?”

-𝙹𝚊𝚎

“I’m a poet, just living out my life & writing my own stories I guess. Not like anyone else would bother reading them anyway.”

-𝙹𝚊𝚎

“Hey uh- Is that a pen? Cause I kinda need one right now. Crazy bunch of ideas just flooded my pea sized brain. Wouldn’t wanna forget them right? A mind-full of words now could turn into a completely full fledged story later, who knows.”

-𝙹𝚊𝚎

“Blueberries, literature, & dreams. These are the few things I’ve stayed alive for. Yup, fourteen years of being a hopeless idiot & disappointing everyone I come by.”

-𝙹𝚊𝚎

“But why do we hate darkness even though we’re literally surrounded by it every night!? I thought you Keyblade idiots knew better, I thought you were better! Heh, guess I was wrong… Note to self: Never put your trust in anybody EVER AGAIN! BECAUSE THIS UNIVERSE IS NOTHING MORE THAN A FILTHY BREEDING POT FULL OF EVEN FILTHIER BACKSTABBERS!-”

-𝙹𝚊𝚎

“Unfortunately enough, it seems that I’ve run out of stories to tell… Heh, I should’ve realized this moment was going to come for me sooner or later. A writer’s charm only lasts so long before it fades, just as a pen will eventually run out of ink, or an uncharted idea will eventually be forgotten. Yet again, that bothersome light you use to fight us is no different when compared to those few simpleminded examples. Expiable, inconsistent, just like the hearts you so proudly hold.”

-𝚇𝚊𝚓𝚎

“Why must inspiration always come to me at the worst of times?- Ugh, I suppose that new writing prompt of mine will just have to wait for later, you on the other hand, shall be dealt with now.”

-𝚇𝚊𝚓𝚎

“Your specialty should be renewed into a weapon of some sort. Coming naturally to you in times of need, refined, retrained, & unlike what it was before. Here, take my trusty Fountain Pen for example: From normal size to weaponized! It’s quite fun actually, not that I have a heart to garner the enjoyment of course, but still, one cannot deny when one has alas discovered the thing they endearingly call ‘a hobby.’”

-𝚇𝚊𝚓𝚎

“The beings I once called ‘family’ were nothing more than burdensome unaccepting hate speakers, & surely enough, they still are. It was because of them that I ended my miserable self & landed here, fractured, incomplete, but more relieved than I can ever recall being whilst I still garnered a heart from within. Yes yes, it may not be the most apparent thing to you newcomers, but being a Nobody has its perks, especially if you willingly chose to be one.”

-𝚇𝚊𝚓𝚎

Now for an unanimated cutscene of two characters conversing through the unprofessional script put together by yours truly:

Xaje: We’re nothing more than a stain on the pristinely white pages of your world, an unwanted drop of ink that was never meant to exist in the first place, a thing you unaccepting light dwellers would call ‘a mistake.’ Still we roam freely, collecting the negative reputation you’ve forcefully written us to have. Ever spreading, ever growing, never stopping till we’ve met our untimely ends. Perhaps you & I aren’t so different after all, P/N.

Protagonist: Shut it, I’m nothing like you!

Xaje: Hm, don’t be so foolish light dweller, our respective roles as heroes & well… Antiheroes, will always set us apart of course, but in the end we both want what’s best for this dreaded empire, don’t we? deny it not any further P/N, we’re one in the same, you’re simply far too blinded by the light to see truth when it’s clearly there. Well, if I can’t persuade you now, perhaps I’ll try again another time, good day.

Protagonist: Huh?! Hey, come back! QUIT RUNNING AWAY FROM ME YOU COWARD!

Xaje: You see what I mean, foolish, ignorant, weak. Are baseless insults & vile acts of bullying really your only powers? Tsk tsk tsk, how very sad indeed.

Protagonist: SHUT UP!

Xaje: Till we meet again dearest light dweller, be sure to keep that precious little heart of yours safe whilst we’re apart, won’t you? I find that it can be quite fragile at times.

Protagonist: I SAID BE QUIET!- Aaannnd he’s gone… AGAIN!

-𝙵𝚒𝚗

Progress shots:

[livixbobbiex]

So I got bored and made up a... kind of complicated but fun sounding BOTW challenge. It's a combination of permadeath and nuzzlocke, I think. More of a realism challenge.

General Rules

Permadeath

If you die, you're dead. You have to start again from the beginning.

Drowning and falling into the void are considered deaths

You can use fairies

Master Sword trial deaths don't count

Champion abilities

Mipha's grace can only be used once

Daruk's protection, Revali's gale, and Urbosa's fury can only be used three times

Once you see an ability recharge, you have to deactivate it

If you choose to complete Champions Ballad, you unlock the ability to use the abilities infinitely

Transport

You must set your HUD display to pro mode (removes the mini map and other information). You can open the slate to look at the map though

You can only register one horse through your entire playthrough. If it dies, you have to resurrect it

No ancient horse armour or bridal

You can only use the Sheikah Slate to teleport between towers (you have to climb it to use it), and you can use the travel medallion like normal, but otherwise no teleporting

Master cycle zero is allowed

General misc.

You must save all travellers from monster attacks if you see them

You must have at least one meal a day

Within reason, all food needs to be cooked. You can eat things like apples raw, but meat etc. needs to be cooked

You can't have the same meal two days in a row

No eating during combat. If you move a sensible distance away from the enemy you can refill health, but you can't just go to inventory right in the middle of a fight.

You should try and sleep every night. Fires, inns, stables, and Link's house are all options.

You may continue to travel through the night, but you can't pick anything up or fight any monsters, you just have to run away

The no night restriction can end in two ways: carrying a torch or flame weapon, or wearing special night armour (dark set, radiant set, upgraded sheikah set, tingle set)

Glitches and physics exploits

Nothing helpful is allowed

This includes BTB, wind bomb, moon jump, heart glitch, shield clipping etc. etc.

Flying machines are allowed, plus using magnesis to push things.

Armour

Combinations

With the exception of quest necessity, the following sets of armour can only be worn when you have all three pieces together:

Ancient set; Barbarian set; Climbing set; Dark set; Desert Voe set; Flamebreaker set; Gerudo set; Radiant set; Rubber set; Sheikah set; Snowquil set; Soldier's set; Zora set; Armour of the Wild; Tingle's outfit; Phantom set; Royal Guard set; Salvager set

The Hylian set and Worn set can be mixed and matched with the following items:

Champion's tunic; sand boots; snow boots; thunder helm; warm doublet; all jewellery; single DLC items

Banned

Majora's mask (Kilton's masks are still okay though)

You must fully upgrade and customise whatever armour you bring to the Calamity Ganon fight

Weapons, bows, and shields

Generally, once you break a weapon, you can never pick the same type weapon up again

Permanent exceptions

There is no limit to the following items:

Anything rusty; korok leaf; tree branch; wooden mop; pitch fork; farming hoe; fishing harpoon; boat oar; drillshaft; iron sledgehammer; woodcutter's axe; double axe; pot lid; torch; bone arms

If rusty weapons are cleaned by octorocks, you can keep whatever they turn into

Items that are directly dropped by bokoblins, moblins, lizalfos, Yiga clan, or wizzrobes

The master sword

Items given to you or sold by NPCs

One time exceptions. This means you can pick up any item in these cases, even if you've had it before, but after the blood moon you can't revisit the same location.

Anything used in the master sword trials and Eventide island

Chests

Items dropped by guardians in shrines

Special locations (such as hidden caves, mini games)

Hyrule Castle

Each mini boss (including lynels)

Main tasks

The main quest

You must complete the main quests

You must complete all memories

You must get the master sword

The master sword trials and champion's ballad are optional

Side quests

The following side quests must be completed:

Hylian Homeowner (Link's house); From the Ground Up (Tarrey town); By firefly's light, flown the coop, find the fairy fountain (to unlock the stolen heirloom); Hunt for the giant horse and The royal white stallion; Find Kheel; The korok trials; The priceless maracas; The statue's bargain; Medical molduga, The secret club's secret, The mystery polluter, Tools of the trade, The search for Barta (to unlock the thunder helm)

Permanent world changes

All towers

All shrines (and shrine quests)

All dog treasures

All fairy fountains

Hateno and Akkala tech labs

Unlock Kilton

All mini games

Basically any other permanent change task, minus korok seeds

Other tasks

Fully upgraded runes

Complete map

Well, good luck if anyone tries this!

[witchesoz]

What we know of Oz: Book 1, the Heart of Oz

Before speaking of the Emerald City in itself, I would like to talk a bit about the central region of Oz, the “Green Country” you could call it. Indeed, many people forget that the lands around the Emerald City as technically their own territory, noted to be a “very beautiful country” which contrasts with the dark forest of the East, the desert lands of the West and the weird locations of the South. On the Eastern side, it seems that the limit of this green land is the wide river that blocks the Yellow Brick Road into two (this same river that goes all the way to the West). If you follow along the Yellow Brick Road you find beautiful gree / We also know a bit what the East-southern part of this central region looks like – this is where our heroes drift after being carried away by the river. This east-southern part is described as a “lovely country” with plenty of flowers and fruit trees, brightly colored birds and lovely flowers that cover the ground into a thick carpet – yellows, white, blues and purples, with great clusters of scarlet poppies. The more towards the East one goes, the more the poppies, until they form one giant meadow – the famous “poppy fields” all Oz fans now. And no, the poppies aren’t supposed to be magical – in this book they are natural poppies, but in such a great number that they smell becomes insanely strong and can make people fall asleep forever. (If you don’t know, poppies are the source of opium). Beyond this field of poppies there are beautiful green fields of grass – this is where our heroes meet the Field Mice Queen and the Wildcat. Past this field is the Yellow Brick Road.

  Now, going along the Yellow Brick Road, smooth and well paved, one will find quickly farms and small green houses, with green faces, in which live these central denizens – all dressed in emerald-green, and wearing peaked hats “like those of the Munchkin” (indeed in the early illustrations, what we know currently as the typical Munchkins hats, with the point and the bells, was the typical hat of all the Ozians). After these houses and farms, we arrive to the Emerald City. I will mention that again, but Dorothy identifies this central area as the “Land of Oz”, which means either she is mislead, either indeed this central region is the land of Oz proper that gave its name to the entire country. She may also be simply designating this land as the belonging of Oz, as in the Wizard. Who knows?

  To the West, there are mentions of “fields of soft grass, dotted with daisies and buttercups”, and the southern part of this central region is described as “green fields and bright flowers that stretch on every side” (it seems to be the same area that is before the poppy fields), and populated by butterflies and moths.   # The Emerald City, or City of Emeralds. Named as such because it is allegedly entirely made of emeralds. The most famous place of all of Oz, and yet one no one in Oz seems to go to. We know that Boq never went there, the Tin Woodman never went there either – but his father went in this city once, as a young boy – and the Quadlings also never go to the City due to the dangers on the road. Only the farmer that lives in one of the green houses around the City has more knowledge about it, claiming that he went there several times. The City is quite hard to miss, given that it glows with a green light – when one arrives in the central region, they can already see the green light in the sky, on the horizon. From the outside the City looks a “mass of towers and steeples”, with “high up above the spires and the dome of the Palace of Oz”. The City is circled by a great green wall, high and thick, bright green, with in it a big gate studded with emeralds that glitter in the sun, and next to this door a bell to ring. When one rings this bell, they enter a high and arched room where the walls glisten with countless emeralds – this is the domain of the Guardian of the Gate, or Keeper of the Keys, however you would call him, he doesn’t have a name at this point. He is described as a man, the same size as a Munchkin, clothed in green and with a greenish tint to his skin. His role is to welcome the travelers, to make sure they have a rightful business in the town, and to put them on green glasses. This is the rule – in order to not be blinded by the brightness and glory of the city, people have to put on spectacles made of green glass and gold bands locked behind the head with a key, a key only the Guardian possesses. It is forbidden to take them off when inside the City, people even have to sleep with it, and this rule was instituted during the foundation of the City. Of course, this is later revealed to be another trick of the Wizard: the City has indeed emeralds in its ornaments, and has green in it, but as the Wizard says “no more than anywhere else”, and so, to make people think everything was green and everything was made of emeralds, he invented this “green spectacles” rule. Dorothy and her friends realize this immediately upon leaving the City – the young girl sees that the green dress she was wearing is now entirely white (maybe the Wizard also tried to hide his “illegal” use of the color associated with the Witches?). It is also interesting to know that in this book, there seems to be only one door to the City, with one spectacle room and one Guardian of the Gates – while in most of modern adaptations the Emerald City has four doors, one for each cardinal direction.

Once a visitor has their glasses on, the Guardian of the Gates uses a big golden key to open the inside doors to the City proper (remember, the glasses tint everything green so in terms of colors, nothing is sure): streets lined with beautiful houses of green marble, and studded everywhere with sparkling emeralds, a pavement of the same green marble where the blocks are joined by rows of emeralds, with windows of green glass. Dorothy notes that the City is quite busy, with many people, men, women and children – she also notices numerous shops, that sell either clothes and accessories (shoes, hats, clothes…) either food (pop-corn, candy and lemonade). At the center of the City is the Palace. Inside one can find big rooms with greens carpets and mats, a furniture incrusted with emeralds. The staff of the palace seems to be mostly made of soldiers (well, we meet one soldier, with a green uniform and a long “green” beard) and maids (we see a young girl with a pretty green silk gown). A typical guest room of the Palace has a bed with silk sheets and a velvet counterpane, a tiny marble fountain in which can be found perfume, flowers at the window, a wardrobe filled with (for girls) silk, satin and velvet gowns, as well as a shelf filled with books – all green, of course. As for the Throne Room of Oz, it is a big round room with a high arched roof, large emeralds covering the floor, ceiling and walls, and a great light as bright as the sun in the middle of the room, shining upon a big throne of marble shaped like a chair and decorated with gems. An interesting mention in this book is the one of the court of the Palace – in front of the Throne Room, there are “many ladies and gentlemen of the court” in rich costumes, that every morning go in front of the door hoping to see the Wizard but are never permitted to, so they spend their time standing around and talking to each other. I don’t think we see these courtiers ever again after this book.  

  # Two specificities of the City: One, people use money. In later books, Baum claims that money doesn’t exist in Oz, and indeed we see previously that the Ozians seem to practice ancient barter exchanges (such as the Wicked Witch of the East being paid with cattle). BUT… there is clearly mentioned here that children pay their lemonade with “green pennies”. It wouldn’t be surprising however that the Wizard is actually the one that introduced the idea of money in Oz – after all it fits very well with the teachings he gives to the heroes: “In this country, everyone must pay for everything they get”, “I never grant favors without something in return”. Second specificity, there are no horses or working animals of any kind – men carry around their belongings and packages on little green carts that they push before them.  

    # Now that we saw the City, what about the Wizard? First of all, let’s look at the legend he built for himself in Oz… When Dorothy asks the Witch of the North who the Wizards of Oz are, she merely answers that Oz is the “Great Wizard” – no mention of other possible smaller Wizards, no explanation that he is the last Wizard, almost as if she tried to avoid the question. The Witch informs that he is “more powerful than the rest of us” [the Witches], and that he rules over the Emerald City (not the entirety of Oz, mind you, only the Emerald City). The Good Witch also adds that she ignores if the Wizard is a “he” or a “she” for she never saw him before. However she insists that Dorothy should not be afraid of Oz, and that he will help her if she asks. Later Boq has a more nuanced message, telling Dorothy that it is better to “keep away from Oz, unless you have business with him”. When asking the farmer from the green house near the City, Dorothy learns that no one currently ever saw Oz – all those that did are now long dead. The Wizard spends his days in his great Throne Room, never leaving the palace, and if someone manages to get an interview with him, the Great Wizard will take all sorts of shapes to hide his true face. The farmer mentions that previous sighted shapes of the Wizard have been: a bird, an elephant, a cat, a beautiful fairy and a brownie (not the cake, but the little fae-impish like creatures). When each of the heroes talk about their wishes, the farmer also has very specific answers about the Wizard’s abilities, saying that he has “more brains than needed”, “a large collection of hearts of all shapes and sizes” and a “great pot of courage which he has covered with a golden plate to keep it from running over”. It is hard to know if the man is inventing these fabulous stories along or if they are real rumors the central citizens believe in. As for the Guardian of the Door’s opinion: according to him, the Wizard is powerful and terrible, and if you come on an idle or foolish errand he will be angry and destroy his visitors, but he is still a good Wizard that rules wisely, only being terrible for people who are not honest or too curious.

  # Everyone remembers that the Wizard, in a memorable sequence, takes a different “shape” for each of the travelers. To Dorothy he appears as an enormous limbless and bodiless head, resting on his throne, with no hair at all, a head said to be “biggest than any giant head”. To the Scarecrow, he appears as a “lovely lady, dressed in green silk gauze and wearing upon her flowing green locks a crown of jewels. Growing from her shoulders were wings gorgeous in color and so light that they fluttered if the slightest breath of air reached them.” To the Tin Woodman, the Wizard appears as a terrible beast, big as an elephant, with a head like a rhinoceros, five eyes, five long arms growing out of his torso, five slim legs, and thick wooly hair covering all of his body. Finally, to the Lion the Wizard appears as a ball of fire, so fierce and glowing that the Lion can’t look at it and he feels his whiskers burning with the heat. Of course, all of this are just tricks – the head is a giant dummy manipulated with wires, the lady is actually a costume and a mask, the beast is a structure covered in animal skins, and the ball of fire is a cotton boil with burning oil. The main talent of Oz to fool the people is actually his ability to manipulate his voice – on one side he is a very talented ventriloquist, able to project his voice everywhere (in fact, when he pretended being invisible, he imitated the feeling of moving around by having his voice move through the room) and on the other he is a talented imitator, able for example to imitate any kind of animal sound, bird or beast. In fact he was a ventriloquist before becoming a balloonist in a circus.  

   # Of course, the Wizard’s backstory needs a lot of thought and look at. Why? Because the arrival of the Wizard is one of the biggest inconsistencies of the Oz books, so much that the wildest theories and explanations were created to explain the differences from book to book. In this book, the Wizard (whose real name is actually unknown) was born in the Omaha. He became at first a ventriloquist, having trained under the “best master”, but then he chose to become a balloonist – and during a balloon accident he was carried away by a current of air for a whole day and a whole night, up to the land of Oz. The local Ozians, visibly those that inhabited the Central Region at the time, believed him to be a great Wizard – that was the only explanation for him coming down the clouds – and they promised to do everything he would do, out of fear. The Wizard was very glad to become the king of these people, and his first order was to build the Emerald City – yes, build, because the Emerald City in this book was created by the Wizard. He explains that it was half to keep the people “busy”, and half because it “amused” him. This is the whole dichotomy of the Wizard – if you try to see him as a bad man, you end up realizing that most of his actions have good explanations and good effects. But if you try to see him as a good man, you keep noticing little bits of selfishness and megalomania sparkled everywhere. He is truly a neutral character, or rather as he says, “ a good man but a bad Wizard”. The City was built with many jewels and precious metals, but Oz had the idea of the green spectacles to make it look like everything was green in there, to make it even more splendid and beautiful. He also notes that the City was built when he was a young man – but in current times he is a “very old man”, small, bald and wrinkled. While he at first played the role of the Wizard to just “play” the game and use his power, he quickly did it out of fear and self-preservation, when he found about out the four Witches of Oz, who had real powers. The Wizard is terribly afraid of the Witches – at the time there were already two good Witches, the Northern and Southern one, that would “never do him harm”, so he did not care much about them (and it explains why the Northern Witch never saw him). But the two Wicked Witches in the East and the West were already there too, and he needed to make everyone believe that he was much more powerful than them to prevent the cruel witches from attacking. (We know that the Wizard actually entered in the West, and was driven out of it by the Winged Monkeys of the Witch, but we don’t know more about the actual details of this event). And so began this trickery that worked so well and for such a long time that the Wizard thought he would never be found out. Note that when called a humbug at first, the Wizard seems to be delighted by such a name, but later admits that he is tired of being one and he wants to be able to get out of the Palace and return to his old circus life.

   # Despite all of that, the Wizard still tries his best to offer to our heroes what they want. To give brain to the Scarecrow, he fills his head with bran, and mixes with it pins and needles to give him a “sharp” mind. To the Tin Woodman he gives a “soft” heart, aka one made of silk and stuffed with sawdust. And for the Lion, he gives him a liquid that immediately makes him feel brave and courageous – a subtle joke, but clearly the Wizard is giving the Lion a strong alcohol.

   # A final interesting note about the Wizard: the way the people will remember him. Indeed, the narration explains to us that the citizens of the Emerald City kept loving the Wizard after he left, pretendedly to visit “a great brother Wizard who lived in the clouds”, they remembered him as their “friend” and a wonderful wizard – but more than all, they remember “He built us this city”. Yep, clearly the Wizard changed people’s memory so that they would think he built the city for them, and not the other way around. But it fits very well with what the Wizard said before: “I have always been good to these people, and they love me”.

[ohkiyo]

pairing: Goshiki Tsutomu x Reader

warnings: none

word count: 2, 863

a/n: I got sidetracked so many times while writing this XD.

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shiratorizawa navigation || main navigation

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Rest days were very rare for members of any sports clubs, especially when a very important tournament is just right around the corner, and just as practices are good, taking a break and resting those tired muscles is very important as well. 

That is why, when Coach Washijou announce yesterday that they’d have the weekend off, members of Shiratorizawa’s boys’ volleyball club use it as an opportunity to finally do the plans they have been holding on for a while now.

Therefore, when Goshiki called you last night to tell you he’d be taking you on a date the next day, you were ecstatic. Letting out an excited squeal, startling your roommate in the process who was watching a movie while you jump around in your room, still talking to your boyfriend about your plans for your date. 

Your roommate was definitely looking at you funny, watching as you were talking so fast she couldn’t even understand what you were saying, so she just shook her head and continued watching her movie.

The two of you didn’t really plan anything extravagant, just a stroll around the mall or anything mundane, you don’t really care, you’re just glad you can finally have your boyfriend all by yourself for the whole day. Currently, the two of you were in your favorite clothes shop in one of Sendai’s malls, going through the various assortments of apparel they offer.

Browsing through the rack of sweaters and jacket, a certain clothing item caught your attention; you took it from the rack and giving it a closer look. It was a black colored hoodie, with a little animated bread with a smiley face and the words peanut butter printed just below it was the design, situated on the upper left part of the chest area. It was big, but you have always preferred clothes that were twice your size, they were more comfortable.

Going through the rack again, you saw another one, similar in color, a similar animated bread with the smiley face but this one says jelly, the position of the design was the same but it was smaller, closer to your size than the one you are currently holding.

Realizing that it was a couple hoodie, you walk up to your boyfriend and showed it to him.

“Tsutomu, look!” you said, holding up the two hoodies for him to see. He examines it, the cute design definitely catching his attention.

“Can we buy this?”

“Sure!”

After paying for your items, the two of you went to the mall’s rooftop where restaurants with open areas were operating. It was mostly the go-to place for most shoppers since the tables were placed in an open space, surrounded by many potted plants and a beautiful fountain in the middle, not only that, the fresh air is a good addition as well if anyone wants to get away from the stuffy smell the mall’s air conditioners were usually giving.

“It looks so good” Goshiki said, as the server place your food on the table, you could feel your mouth watering just by the sight of it. Immediately digging into the plates of food, once everything you’ve ordered was served.

“(Y/n)-chan, have you tried this one yet?” Goshiki pointed at the plate of chicken in front of him, you shook your head, swallowing your food.

“It’s really good” he took a piece of chicken with his fork and feeding it to you, watching as you slowly chew on the piece of meat. Your eyes went wide, a little hum leaving your lips at the various flavors exploding in your mouth. 

It was just fried chicken, but it was a lot different from the ones you have had, probably because of the spices the cooks put during preparation.

“Tasty, right?” you nodded your head as he fed you another piece chuckling at how your cheeks were bulging with so much food.

Unbeknownst to the two of you, on a table, a few feet away were three pairs of eyes watching the exchange like a hawk.

“I didn’t know he has a girlfriend” Yamagata leaned forward as he squints his eyes, trying to have a closer look at the girl to see if he recognize her.

“She’s probably just a classmate” Reon said watching as his other three companions decided to ignore their food and focus more on the cute display of affection happening in front of them. 

It’s not even considered PDA, they were just sharing their food something people normally do, but for them, who had been around the first year far too long would know that this was new, even they were surprised. 

They know Goshiki is not good at talking to girls, they could clearly remember how he chokes on his own spit the other day when he was talking to one of the members of the girls’ volleyball team. 

“She’s probably more than just a classmate” Tendou wiggled his finger at them, sliding his plate towards Ushijima and telling him to finish it.

“A friend maybe? They look close” Semi offered, as both he and Yamagata followed Tendou’s action, Reon sweatdrop watching as the third-year captain silently accept all the foods being given to him. 

“What? No!” Tendou objected, an offended look on his face as if they had just insulted his favorite manga “You’re all clearly underestimating Tsutomu, he’s tall, he’s cute, he’s smart and good at sports. He’s like a mini Wakatoshi-kun if you ask me!”

“So, you think Wakatoshi is cute?” Yamagata raises an eyebrow at him, crossing his arms over his chest as Semi’s mouth formed into the widest grin Tendou has ever seen.

“You know he’s right over there, you could tell him that you have a crush-“ 

Tendou clamp a hand over Semi’s mouth as he sneaks a glance towards Ushijima who seemed to have not heard what any of them was saying, and was more invested in his food than pay them attention. He let out a sigh, before turning his head to the two.

“We don’t talk about that here”

Semi remove his hand a smirk on his face “Alright, but we’re going to have a discussion about it later”

“They’re leaving” 

They watch as the duo walk away, hand in hand, something that did not go unnoticed from their prying eyes.

“Guess they really were a couple”

"Told ya!”

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"Hmm, what to watch" you tap your chin as you look at the various movie posters that were showing that day. The movie options weren't even that interesting to begin with, half of it was romance dramas while the others were just poor adaptations of movies from other countries. 

Goshiki let out a sigh, about to suggest that you do something else when another poster, all alone in the far corner of the wall, caught his eye.

"(Y/n)-chan look" he tugs at your blouse as you turn to look where he was pointing, you squint your eyes reading the details written on it. It was a promotional poster to this year's Eigasai [1], the list of movies to be shown were listed in bullet forms and the selected malls where it would be showing printed at the bottom.

"That's today" you look at your boyfriend who nodded his head and the two of you went back to the rooftop, walking towards the area where the screening for the Eigasai selected films were being held.

"Their movie line up this year is good" you muttered, as you read the titles of the multi-awarded films.  Recognizing how most of them were movies directed by famous directors.

"Let’s watch this one" Goshiki pointed at the poster, the title The Boy and The Beast catching your interest, you nodded your head as the both of you stood in line to get your tickets.

Once that was done, you made a quick purchase for your snacks before going inside the cinema, sitting in your designated area as you waited for the movie to start.

The projector was playing an ad as people slowly fill in the empty seats. You adjusted yourself in your seat, leaning back as the lights start to go dim, grabbing a few pieces of popcorn as the movie's intro starts playing.

Among many villages of beast in the world, the busiest is here, called Jutengai. The number of beast living here is about a hundred thousand.

“This is a very good way to start a movie” Goshiki commented eyes never leaving the screen as he took a sip of his drink. You nodded your head in agreement.

“I know, right?”

A long time leader among them proclaimed he shall retire and become a god. While pondering which god he shall be, since a new leader must be named should he decide, he ordered everyone to prepare a candidate.

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"That was probably the worst horror movie I've ever seen in my life" Semi grumbled stomping out of the cinema as he let out a huff “People were hyping it up so bad on social media, that I thought it was going to be exciting or something"

"That was definitely a flop" Tendou added shaking his head in disappointment.

"I demand a refund"

"I don't think that's possible Eita" Reon could only offer a pat on the back, before casting a glance at the second years who they had bumped into while waiting in line for their ticket "I think I saw Kenjirou fell asleep somewhere in the middle"

Shirabu shrugs his shoulders, moving his bangs away from his eyes to have a proper look at his upperclassman "It was boring"

"We should have just went to Eigasai instead" Kawanishi patted the giant poster displayed beside him. Popping a popcorn in his mouth as he watches Semi grab Tendou by the collar of his shirt and shaking him.

"You made me pay ¥1,800 [2] for a movie where I could've just watch it for free!"

"Now, now Eita-kun it was an honest mistake. We didn't know the film festival was today"

Tendou tries to explain but Semi just shook him harder, while an oddly pale-looking Yamagata stood beside Ushijima, not saying a single word since they had exited the cinema.

"Are you okay Hayato?" Ushijima asks, looking at him.

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine" he answered before a thought went through his head 'What the fuck you mean that movie was boring?! It was terrifying!' He had to resist the shiver running down his spine as he could still remember some scenes from the movie.

He was definitely having nightmares tonight.

“By the way. Have you seen Tsutomu today?” Tendou asks pulling Semi off of him “He’s on a date!”

The two second years raise an eyebrow “A date?”

“Yeah- look there he is!” the redhead stretch his hand and pointed to Goshiki and his date walking towards the escalator. Laughing amongst each other.

“C’mon let’s go!” he gathered them all and started pushing them towards the direction the two have gone, completely ignoring their protest.

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"I didn't know there was a park here" Goshiki mumbled a stunned look on his face as his eyes surveyed the area. It was big, a lot bigger than the ones near the neighborhood areas, there were gazebos, a picnic area where tables were already set up overlooking a wide lake with wild ducks swimming around. A playground at the far corner complete with a seesaw, a slide, a sandbox, and a jungle gym.

"Me neither" you added taking a seat in one of the many benches as a sudden realization hit you "Gosh we need to go out more. How long has it been since we went off campus?"

Goshiki thought for a moment before answering "2 months"

"2 months?!" you gaped at him, as he tried to recount the days but it stayed the same "How?"

"High school happened" the both of you let out a heavy exhale, pulling you closer to him as the two of you watch the rest of the park goers enjoying their afternoon.

“I had fun today Tsutomu-kun. Thank you” you said squeezing your boyfriend’s hand as you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Really? I’m glad” he smiled down at you, planting a kiss on the crown of your head as he adjusted himself, resting his head on top of yours. 

“Achoo!” 

“Tissue! Tissue!” 

“We don’t have any more tissues!”

Kawanishi sniffled, a pained groan leaving his lips as he sneezes once more. The itchy feeling in his nose irritating him as he took Shirabu’s offered handkerchief. 

“Taichi-nii?” 

Kawanishi raises his hand in a small wave as you frown, walking up to him while rummaging your bag for the tissue you had packed earlier.

“What are you doing standing near the flower beds? You know you’re allergic to them” you took hold of his wrist as you pulled him towards the picnic area where there were only grasses and trees present, the other following after you two.

“Sorry” he blew on his nose, as you gave him his antihistamine pill and a bottle of water. Semi doesn't even question why you're carrying an anti-allergy pill with you, he's just glad Kawanishi was immediately given some medication.

“You know her Taichi?” Tendou tilts his head to the side, eyes blinking in question.

Kawanishi nodded his head “She’s my younger cousin” he answered as he turned you to them, telling you to introduce yourself.

“Hello, my name’s (L/n) (Y/n) nice to meet you” you bowed as they introduce themselves to you one by one.

“You’re Tsutomu’s girlfriend, right? We saw you two earlier” you nodded your head, smiling at Yamagata as he started patting Goshiki on the back, while Tendou keeps on ruffling his hair until it was messy, saying something how he didn’t tell them that he has a cute girlfriend and why he didn't introduce you to them earlier.

You chuckled, turning your attention back to your cousin who's sniffles had finally calmed down. You gave him another piece of tissue, stepping to the side as a couple walks past your group. You scrunch up your nose as the familiar smell of strong perfume went up to your nostril, before a sneeze finally left your lips.

"You too?" Semi asks, growing worried by the second as a barrage of sneezes left your lips. Goshiki sitting you down beside your older cousin and offering you the almost empty tissue pack.

"It was the perfume" you wave your hand at the couple that was already a few feet away, but the smell of their perfume still lingering in the air.

Tendou and Shirabu had to pinch their nose, trying to prevent themselves from accidentally inhaling the scent as Yamagata tries to stop himself from gagging "I don't know what it was but it stinks"

Reon nodded as he tried to wave away the awful smell, while Ushijima doesn't even look affected in the slightest. You let out another sneeze rubbing your temple as you start to feel yourself getting a headache, Kawanishi doing the same.

Looks like it’s going to be a miserable weekend for the both of you.

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You stood beside the two coaches, a smile on your face, and a notebook in hand, as your eyes scanned the face of the new team you will be managing from now on. You had just finished introducing yourself to the team, waiting for Coach Washijou and Coach Saito to finish their pre-practice reminders.

“Starting today she will be your new manager so don't screw it up!" 

"Yes sir!" was their collective reply as Coach Washijou nodded his head, satisfied at the energy they seem to possess.

"Good, now start warming up. We're starting with spiking drills today"

With that, they disperse and walk over to their own area and started stretching. Thoroughly preparing their body for the strenuous exercise they will be doing today.

"It's funny how we just met (Y/n) a few days ago and now she's our manager" Reon mused, as he twists his body to the side.

"I offered the position to her" Ushijima said as they look at him "Shirabu mentioned that she's an outstanding student and I think she would be a good addition to the team. Someone reliable to help take care of everyone"

"You're fast"

"It would be a shame if she were to manage a different a club, and also..." he pauses meeting their eyes as his lips twitch into one of those rare smiles they have seen "... She would be an excellent motivator for Goshiki"

He motioned his head to where the two first years were talking to each other, Goshiki was sporting a very wide smile on his face, visibly vibrating on the spot as the girl wrap his fingers with some tape. Which was odd, he doesn’t even tape his fingers.

Probably an excuse to talk to her more.

"They're cute together aren't they?" Semi commented, watching as Goshiki sneakily gave his girlfriend a peck on the forehead before jogging towards the court.

"Yes they are" Tendou nodded his head, as silence enveloped the both of them before Semi spoke up again.

"So... about your crush on Wakatoshi"

"Eita-kun, shh!"

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[1] Eigasai is a Japanese film festival held every August, I think. They would have screenings of the best Japanese films animated or not, and the best thing about it, it’s free! You just have to make the effort to wait in line. I search up google and unfortunately, it’s an event only available in my country, at least that’s what it said, but just for the sake of this story, I decided to include Japan as well. hehehe

[2] According to Google, that’s the actual price for movie tickets in Japan.