#(because I have learned what happens when I post immediately after finishing a chapter with no future material in the bank)

[musical-chick-13]

WAIT I JUST REALIZED THIS THING I INCLUDED IN THIS CHAPTER CAN TIE INTO/INFORM CHARACTER BEHAVIOR DURING A LATER EVENT IN THE ACTUAL SHOW CANON.

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 6

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a (!) player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, you get your very own samantha from her (2013) lol, time skips as a plot device!, this has an arc i promise, if anybody here plays disco elysium you’ll find that i took concepts of “the pale” as inspo at some points in this chapter lmao A/N: Oof this one’s a little longer than any of the previous chapters. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! <3 (and just a heads up, this might be the last chapter I post before I kick it off for the holidays. advance happy holidays! if you guys celebrate that sort of thing.) 

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10 - Epilogue

There’s a quiet stillness brought by the morning after that makes the problems of a heavier night seem like a fairly distant memory. 

For at least a few minutes past the moment you blink away the stubborn grit in your eyes – you don’t remember the last time you’ve been this well-rested in ages – you lie, listless, on the soft powder-blue bedding of your twin-size mattress, watching specks of dander and dust drift from the amber sunlight that filters through the cracked panes of the casement window. 

It floats aimlessly; unhurried. Much like you.

The echo of last night’s events return to you in sporadic flashes—fragmented and unsteady. The whispered exchanges, the playful banter between you and your unlikely conversation partner play back in your mind, like some half-finished supercut. 

And the more you recall, the more awake you feel, chipping away the last traces of daytime lethargy weighing you down. 

“So, what happens now?”

The sound of a car backfiring breaks through from the outside, like a starting pistol signalling the beginning of another day. A familiar, heavy weight presses against your side, and you thread your fingers through the scraggly fur of the purring feline who’s taken the empty space on your left, just above the covers. 

You breathe in deeply, closing your eyes. 

“I wish I had an answer—I’m still trying to figure that out myself.”

You realize how many questions still linger, a lot more left unanswered. Far more than what you were able to glean, at least. From what little you’ve learned, an entirely new moral dilemma emerges—one you never imagined you'd have to contend with. 

There’s a lot of things you’ve never expected to happen. Yet here you are. 

“Seems we’re at an impasse.” 

It’s an odd thing in itself. You keep waiting for the disbelief to catch up, for a shred of sanity to surface and make you reject the situation you’ve found yourself entangled in. You should be feeling the same, pesky feelings that pulled you sharply out of your flight of fancy last night; a sense of trepidation for what lies ahead in this precarious game of two. 

But instead, you’re here. Now fully awake, and already looking forward to the day with wary acceptance. Looking forward to resuming where you’ve left off with that charming anomaly who’s upended your world, and left you suspended in an exhilarating limbo of uncertainty and excitement.

“...Indeed.”

You crave it—like the first stirrings of a neophyte druggie teetering on the edge of an irreversible habit. 

You need another hit. 

“Why the long face, little dove?”

Because if desire could manifest into being, it would’ve been Sylus. 

“We can figure this out together, can’t we?” 

You pick up your phone. 

––––

“You’re here? Make yourself at home.” 

You look at him, deadpan. He looks back at you serenely. 

Your voice takes on a dry monotone when you respond, “Keep talking like that, I’m about to cum.” 

There’s a shocked silence; then—

Sylus barks out a surprised laugh, immediately breaking character. 

You snort. “Good morning to you too, I guess.” 

He meets your gaze with a look of scandalized amusement, his smile wide enough to flash teeth. 

"Good morning, indeed."

––––

You two fall into a natural rhythm even before the day comes to a close. Perceptive as he is, Sylus hasn’t let you linger in the unease left over from last night any longer than necessary; which to say, should be left buried and forgotten, past its provenance. 

“So you could, like– hypothetically, top up my ascension materials… indefinitely?” There’s a manic shine to your eyes when you confront him back at the home screen, gleeful and triumphant after you boost almost all the 5-star cards you have of him up to max level. “Like an infinite glitch?” 

He’s content to just simply listen to your excited chatter from his languid perch on the seat, one palm resting against the side of his face as he watches you, half-lidded and relaxed. Utterly entertained by your antics.

The slight twitching of his mouth, the subtle tilt of his head… each minute shift in his expression makes a whole world of difference from the version you’ve known him longest—almost a lifetime ago. 

Now he acts so human, so alive, that it’s almost unreal. 

(It’s almost imperceptible, but you swear the air also feels different; like the pixelated space around him is bending, stretching, to accommodate this newer him.) 

“Sure,” he shrugs, lips quirking up into a half-smile as he notices the deep crease forming between your brows. 

He knows the question you’re about to ask, curious thing that you are.

“How, though? Like, what are ‘materials’ to you?” You make air quotes with your fingers, making you appear all the more endearing to him look at, in your process to make sense of a world that’s unfamiliar to you.

“Think of it as upgrades,” Sylus explains patiently. “You place the order to modify the equipment I use, in whichever situation calls for it.”

“And Memory Cards?”

“... A video reel, maybe. Or a restricted case file—locked until you’ve got enough to trade for the information you want.”

“And I suppose the dealer in question here is you?”

He arches an eyebrow. “Who else?”

“Huh,” you say, considering. “So, Deepspace Trials. That’s something you do on the daily? Because I… make you?”

“More or less.”

“And you never thought to question that?” 

“Mm, maybe I’ll start charging for my services this time around.”

You roll your eyes, already accepting his analogy for what it is. “Oh, please. With the amount of money I’ve spent on this game, consider yourself paid in full.” 

––––

You were right about your earlier prediction—this new Sylus in combat mode is something else. 

For starters, he’s a lot chattier.

“Ouch, kitten– don’t charge in like that.”

“Why are you using a sword? Don’t you like the guns I’ve given you specifically for this?” 

“What are you waiting for? Make her resonate with me now.” 

And, instead of sticking to his lines and responding to whatever the MC’s programmed to say during battle, he focuses on whatever you’re fussing over—no matter how… moronic it is.

“Ah, fuck! I hate that spinning thing!” 

“Move, then. Let me handle it.” 

“Block it, block it!”

“I would, if you weren’t halfway across the field. Stick closer to your partner next time, yeah?” 

He doesn’t say any of his usual lines. Nothing from his scripted prompts. When all Wanderers are defeated, there’s no post-battle banter between him and the MC. 

“Goddamn, you’re strong!” You whoop giddily, completely energized by straight winning almost twelve Orbit trials in a row. I guess that’s what a fully awakened Solar pair gets you, huh? 

Sylus lets out a chuckle, infected by your enthusiasm. He doesn’t sound the least bit winded, despite all the damned fighting you’ve put him through.

“We make a good team,” he allows. And because he likes the little nose scrunch you do when you’re annoyed— “Although your dodging really needs more practice, sweetie.” 

Before you could think of a comeback, the pop-up window for the next stage comes up. Ass.

––––

Come Monday morning and you’re once again swamped with work. 

You barely have enough time to scrounge something up for lunch—if it weren’t for the persistent reminders from Sylus, chiming in every five minutes once the digital clock on your phone had hit eleven-thirty, you’d probably skip eating altogether.

And make something else than just boiling a pot of instant ramen, sweetheart. You’re on track for an early grave at this rate. 

“I could… add an egg?” You suggest, unsure. “Maybe cut up some tofu, make it gourmet?”  

He doesn’t even dignify the egg suggestion with a response. Tofu’s a good start. Now, what else do you have in your pantry that has nutritional value? 

“I despise that,” you mutter, but start rifling through the cupboards anyway. 

After amassing enough ingredients—or what looks more like a sad pile—that might, with some effort, turn into something healthier than your usual go-to fix, you start Googling recipes online.

‘tofu easy lunch recipe’

‘10 mins tofu recipes’   

‘begginer recipe using tofu frozen dory mixed veg—’ Ping!

… Really, kitten? 

You don’t even have to see him to know he’s giving you that look, the one that’s practically dripping with judgment over your dubious life choices. 

(You know it all too well. Personally, in fact. You see it on some relatives' faces at the family get-togethers you’re always required to attend.) 

Great. Heat creeps up your face as you mumble defensively, “Stop. Not everyone’s a culinary genius, okay?”

After that, he lets you be – something you’re thankful for, really. He’s being too distracting anyway. 

Swallowing down the–stubborn and suffocating–embarrassment that's now stuck in your throat, you keep scrolling through Tasty dot co, praying you can whip up something edible with what (little) you have. You’re fully aware that you’re a grown-ass woman who can’t manage a basic life skill and that you’re probably about to burn down your kitchen—

Another notification pops up.

Pull up your tabs, sweetie. I think you’ll find something there that we could put together easily.

Confused, you do as he says. Sure enough, four tofu-related recipes are neatly grouped together in your Chrome browser, ready to be tried and tested.  

Your eyes widen. “Wait—you did this? How?”

He doesn’t answer your question. He does, however, offer: Want me to coach you through it? Cooking’s more fun done with a partner, I’d say. 

-

-

In the end, you manage to make something that tasted way better than you thought you could do by yourself. You have him to thank for that.

“You happy with it?” Sylus asks, grinning at the satisfied look on your face.

“Mhm!” you hum around a mouthful of food. “Fanks, Sy.”

“Anytime, darling.”

––––

“Do you really have to call me ‘kitten’? You sound like a Discord mod.” 

Sylus has no idea what a Discord mod is, but judging by the contempt in your voice, it’s clear that you’re not giving him a compliment.

"What do you prefer, then? Princess? Poppet? Sweet thing?" He pauses, tilting his head. "Baby?"

You blush and look away. "...Ugh, whatever. Kitten's fine."

––––

Your routine with Sylus settles into a seamless, effortless flow as the days go by; it’s almost second nature, talking to him. So much so that you’d think nothing could faze you anymore.

Well. Almost nothing. 

A message bubble from an unknown number appears on your lock screen: Hi, sweetheart. X

You almost ignore it – brushing it off as some dumb prank from a bored rando – when, not even five seconds later, another text pops up. 

+0063-XXXXXX: Its Sylus.

… Huh? 

��Is someone fucking with me right now, or…” 

+0063-XXXXXX: Nobodys ‘fucking with you,’ kitten. 

Then–

+0063-XXXXXX: Send a reply so I can see how it shows up on my end.

Your jaw drops. “Holy shit– you can text?? How are you doing that?” and, “Did you just cuss...?” 

+0063-XXXXXX: 👍

+0063-XXXXXX: And Ill let you know if you text me the question 🙄

So you do. You tack on a now spill?? at the end for good measure. 

You watch the “typing…” bubble appear, holding your breath.

+0063-XXXXXX: Its a complex mix of technical code and harnessing the energy from a dormant protofield Ive discovered, just south of Vagrants Land.  

+0063-XXXXXX: The energy I got from it felt different somehow from your normal protofield. I figured I could put it to good use. 

+0063-XXXXXX: Oddly enough, theres an… indescribable effect to oneself when youre nearing the centre of disturbance, shall we say. 

+0063-XXXXXX: I can only decrypt the waveforms by the rarefield border surrounding the AoR. Any further and Im afraid the adverse effects may do more harm than good.

+0063-XXXXXX: But if amplified, it seems responsive to the filament of what connects your signal from deep space to this planet.

+0063-XXXXXX: Who knew it could act as a transmitter to send you something as rudimentary as a telegraph? 

… Sometimes you forget how smart Sylus really is. 

You: that’s pretty amazing ?? wtf sylus  

+0063-XXXXXX: I get by OK. 

You could practically feel his smugness radiating from those four words. You scoff, shaking your head in a mix of awe and begrudging admiration.

He sends two more messages. 

+0063-XXXXXX: Im just glad we can communicate through other means, sweetie. 

Sy-Sy (??): Now save my number. Sy Sy will suffice 😉

––––

Since your latest discovery that Sylus can now text (!!), you’ve been talking to him outside the game non-stop. It’s like talking to a very active friend who never leaves you on read, and you couldn’t be more ecstatic. 

You: so no one else in ur universe knows anything abt ur situation?

You: no one else acting funny or sumn ? >.>

Sy-Sy (??): None that I know of, no. I prefer to keep it under wraps. 

Sy-Sy (??): Now that you mention it, Mephisto has been acting quite suspicious lately. 

You: ?? suspicious-suspicious or just reg suspicious??

Sy-Sy (??): Hes with his other crow friends now. They might be attempting a murder. 

You: ………. is that…. supposed 2 be a joke……….

Sy-Sy (??): Im running on 3 hours of sleep, give me a break.   

Sy-Sy (??): Also your textspeak is horrendous, sweetie. 

"Um, hello–?" 

Your gaze snaps back to the—very real, very present—person sitting across from you at the table, sporting box-dyed blue hair and a frown. You're at the Annex House; a sleek, new-age Japandi-style bar downtown, just an easy five stations away from your place. You both decided to try it for their infamous Rotten Apple cocktail and, of course, your weekly catch-up.

Khol, your friend of eight years since college, is currently giving you a mildly annoyed look.

Oops. 

They point at you accusingly while complaining, "Ugh, we don’t use our phones when we’re hanging out! That’s the rule!"

You smile at them, sheepish, pocketing your phone as discreetly as you could. “I know, I know. Sorry.” 

Then, puffing out your cheeks, you meekly ask, “You were talking about Anna...?”

They roll their eyes but go over the gossip a second time, much to your benefit. Phew.

Your phone vibrates. Twice. 

…

You sneak a quick, final peek.

Sy-Sy (??): Enjoy your night out, darling ❤️ 

Sy-Sy (??): You let me know when youre back home, OK? 

Biting back a grin, you send out one last text in reply. 

You: will do !:9 

Sy-Sy (??): Good girl. 

––––

"Um–so this is my cat, Maru," you say by way of introduction, holding the plump, orange tabby in front of your phone that’s propped up against a carton of Koko Krunch. There’s a slight struggle in lifting his left paw between your fingers to wave at the man on the other side of the screen. "Say hi, Maru."

“Hello, Maru,” Sylus greets amicably in return, watching the both of you with clear amusement in his eyes. “Care to tell me the origin of this proud beast?” 

You recount the story where you’ve first seen Maru five years ago, nothing more than a scraggly little runt at the time, hiding in the gap between a dumpster and the interstice of a cragged wall. You were walking home from a night out drinking with your uni buddies, when you heard the incessant meowing. 

It drew you in like a siren’s call. If the siren in question had the vocal prowess of a warbling whale on the brink of death.

Upon closer inspection, the grimy fluffball revealed a stubby, crooked tail and wide, beady eyes. In your alcohol-fueled haze, you briefly wondered if you were staring at a tiny ginger rat.

“Well, it’s definitely all cat,” your friend Bee declared by noon the following day, calmly retracting a scratched and bloodied hand from the disgruntled feline, which promptly hissed and darted right back under the bed.

You hummed in agreement, passing her a wad of tissue. 

"I couldn’t decide between Nospurratu and Catpin Meow," you say matter-of-factly, giving your capricious son a scritch under his chin. "Bee suggested I stick to something simpler, like Maru. Hence the name."

Your explanation is punctuated by an offended nip on your pointer finger. 

Sylus is covering his mouth, but nods solemnly. “I think Maru is a nice name.” 

There’s a moment where the two seem locked in a silent standoff, neither breaking eye contact nor making any sort of outward reaction. Just as you’re about to step in and interrupt the bizarre staring contest, Maru gives a slow, deliberate blink.

Sylus takes it as a sign of victory—or perhaps a ceremonial seal of approval.

 With a faint smirk on his lips, he offers the cat a small bow in respect.

––––

You’ve practically emptied the entire arcade of plushies – enough to put it out of business if it were actually, you know, real – and you’re bored to tears. 

“Another round of Kitty Cards, perhaps?” Sylus suggests, but a single glance at your face is enough to let him know that you’d rather gnaw off your own hand. Or his. He might just let you.

Sighing dramatically, you complain about the limited playability of the “mini-games” in-game.

“There’s literally nothing else to do. Same old shit, over and over again.” There’s a pout on your face that Sylus wants to nibble on, not that you’re aware of the forming thoughts in his head. “No new banners. I’m stuck between Kitty Cards and the claw machines... I’m bored, Syyyyy,” you whine, stretching the last syllable for effect.  

To be fair, he has tried to make it a bit more challenging for you. He stopped fucking around during Kitty Cards – no more extra two cards in exchange for one of yours, no longer placing different colored kitties deliberately in the wrong cups. 

After six straight losses, your frustration is palpable. The fun is gone.

He makes audible commentaries during each of your six tries at the claw machine. Every time you manage to snag a plushie, he praises you for a job well done (It flusters you, not that he needs to know that). When your luck runs out and you grab onto nothing but air, he wryly points it out through some slight ribbing, but nothing that’s actually hurtful (This flusters you too—again, not that he needs to know any of this).   

There’s nothing else to do. It’s like you’ve exhausted all you could in this small, curated window of his that you’re privy to. If only there’s a way to leave the mini-games behind, to do something new, perhaps outside of what the game has to offer…

Oh, wait. 

“Hey, Sy,” you call the man to attention. “Wanna try something out?” 

-

-

You beat him at Words with Friends by a small margin.

“Ha! That’s thirty-nine points, buddy.” You crow proudly, after putting down Devotees in a straight column.

He eviscerates you at Zynga Poker. 

“... How are you so good at this??” 

“Comes with the package, sweetie,” he says with faux-modesty after revealing (yet another!!) full house, winking like he hasn’t just wiped the floor with you.

By the end of it, both of you are in high spirits—except, maybe, for your bruised ego.

––––

“Say my name, say my name… If no one is around you, say baby I love you…”

“It’s nice to know that we have another thing in common, little dove.”

 

It takes you a moment to process what he’s implying. 

You stop singing, affronted. “Wh—how dare you.” 

––––

“Are you having fun?” Sylus asks, his tone droll as he stands there, hands on his hips and a small scowl on his face. You’re too busy spinning him around, thoroughly entertained by the number of outfits and accessories you’ve forced upon your slightly reluctant model in the photoshoot that's currently taking place.

It’s more amusing, knowing that he’s fully-aware of what’s happening. And that you know he’s aware of what’s happening. 

He’s like your personal, sentient Ken doll; if Ken had ashy grey hair, red eyes, and a mercurial attitude.

“I am, actually,” you shoot back, grinning as you plop a tomato stuffie on top of his head. “Look, you two match!” 

He exhales a long-suffering sigh, shaking his head in mock exasperation.

Not that it stops you. Fluffy bunny ears, a fish headband, an uncharacteristic halo—you’re relentless. “Hey, can you try a different pose?”

“That depends on the pose… and how nicely you ask.”

“Dear Sylus,” you sing, jutting your bottom lip forward and fluttering your eyelashes exaggeratedly, “could you please, pretty please, flip the camera off?”

He snorts but obliges, raising his hand to deliver the most effortlessly cool middle finger you’ve ever seen. “Happy?”

Woah. That’s… hot. “Oh! Uh. Yeah. Yeah, that’s—”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your reaction. You giggle nervously. “You look… hot.”

“Mm?” His smirk grows, teasing and predatory. “What was that?”

“Nothing!” you blurt out, but the pinking of your cheeks betrays you. He’s definitely enjoying this now.

“I could be convinced to do another one,” he murmurs, voice pitching a little lower.

You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting the urge to say the first thing that comes to mind. Stop, you whore. 

Your nerves get the best of you. Without thinking, you switch to putting the MC back on screen. 

Sylus blinks, red eyes narrowing as he looks at you, perplexed. 

“Uh,” you shift your gaze between her frozen stance and his idle figure. The sudden silence hangs a little heavy in the air. “Would–would you like to do poses? With her?”

He opens his mouth, an automatic response—but he stops, expression flickering into something unreadable. Confusion? Hesitation? 

His brows knit together, and for a short while, he just studies you, the space between you thick with unspoken questions. 

“Do you want me to?” he asks finally, his voice quieter, almost careful.

No–I don’t want you to— To pose with someone who looks so-–

perfectperfectperfect by your side—I only want to see you—

I want to see you––

Why do I care–?

I don’t care––I care, I care so much–– 

“Why not?” you choke out, the forced cheer in your voice grating even to your own ears. You shrug, nonchalant in all the ways you’re not. “I’ll dress her up real nice, and then—” You slap a pink bow onto his head. “You can try to keep up.” 

He doesn’t move, not paying the offending accessory any attention. His gaze is solely locked onto yours. 

I don’t care. I don’t. 

You take the first shot. 

____

“What’s the song you’re playing?”

You pause mid-mop, cocking your head to the side in slight surprise. 

“Uhh– Pedestal,” you answer unsurely. “By Portishead. You like it?” 

He hums, eyes glinting with interest. “I do. Play the rest.” 

And just like that, you’re introducing Sylus to modern twenty-first century music—and to Spotify.

____

From that point on, Sylus begins using your Spotify account to discover a whole new world of music—quite literally, in his case. Sometimes he steals the control from you, overriding what you’re currently listening to, just to hear the most random track play from your speakers.

In the middle of a mundane afternoon while you're completely locked in at work—hyperpop synths blaring in your ears—you’re suddenly jolted by the sound of heavy mandolins as an honest-to-god Russian military march blasts through your headphones, shattering your focus like a damn rhino in a china shop. 

And so with the level of patience that could put the Virgin Mary to shame, you painstakingly explain to your friend the courtesy of not stealing the proverbial AUX cord from the “driver,” especially when it’s their turn on the radio. 

The two of you reach a compromise, and thus the birth of your “shared” playlist. Sylus reluctantly agrees to explore on his own time—when you’re not using the app. Like when you’re busy with other things. Or when you're asleep. 

-

-

-

You wake up to the first strings of a Muse song. One of your favorites, in fact. 

Sy-Sy (??): Good morning, sweetie. 

Sy-Sy (??): Last night was enlightening. I have you to thank for that.

Sy-Sy (??): Oh, and I hope you could indulge me. I added some songs to our playlist. I think youll like them. We both seem to have a thing for alt-rock.

Sy-Sy (??): Give me time and Im sure Ill acquire a taste for electronic music too. Be patient. 

You huff out a laugh, lazily rolling over as you check your shared playlist. Sure enough, there’s twelve new songs on it.   

You: awe that’s great sy :)) and these songz r rly good !! u got sum of my faves here

You: based on what u like maybe u can try looking up sum david bowie, probz massive attack idk 

You: i’ll add stuff later for u to listen 2!!! <2

You: <3* 

Sy-Sy (??): Alright, sweetheart. Im looking forward to it. 

Sy-Sy (??): ♥️

____

From the outside, the studio is just another unit among endless rows of dull grey—small and unassuming. Tucked away on the sixth floor of a nondescript building, it’s built as unremarkable as the rest.

Through a window stained with a mix of corrosive ochre and burnt sienna, there’s a quiet hum; the presence of something that wasn’t there a week ago. Life has shifted, ever so subtly, from an oppressive achroma to a much warmer vibrancy.  

There’s a faint hint of movement. Inside, the young woman wears an almost-permanent smile, her phone an extension of her hand as she taps away with no semblance of rhyme nor rhythm—only in a continuous staccato. Her eyes are locked on the screen, as if drawn by an invisible force.

It’s elusive; this connection. Something beyond. Supranatural. It weaves through the room like whispered secrets shared in the dead of the night, beneath a city blanketed in deep ultramarine. Soft, like a wind brushing through a still everglade. 

The apartment, once steeped in a self-inflicted solitude – one that went by unnoticed for a long period of time – comes alive as an intangible presence fills its nooks and crannies with the steady warmth of companionship. There’s a gentle heat to the space now, like the glow of an invisible hearth. 

The flickering of the string lights, the muted laughter shared with a voice through the tinny speakers of a handheld device, a slight signal interference… all feel like the genesis of an impossible story.

Outside, the evening sky is fading into twilight.

And as one looks out onto the street below from the sixth floor window, it’s almost as if the world outside doesn’t quite matter anymore. 

Inside, the air is full of life, in ways it has never been. 

____

“Come to me, just in a dream

Come on and rescue me

Yes, I know I can be wrong

And maybe you’re too headstrong

Our love is––”

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @i2sannie @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @slyfoxtsu @beomluvrr @milkandstarlight @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle @tinyweebsstuff @sapphic-daze @sarahthemage @cchiiwinkle @madam8 @slownoise @raendarkfaerie @sylusdarling @luminaaaz @greeenbeean

(if..... for some damn reason..... the tags still don't work i rly don't know what i'm doing wrong T_T i'm posting this from a macbook is that it, is the ghost of steve jobs fucking with me rn)

[shanastoryteller]

Congrats on finishing See Something Say Something!! I checked the notification of the first AO3 email sent out and you initially planned on five chapters.

Would you say that the ending changed considerably since you started in October? Or has that stayed the same?

thank you!

it stayed the same lol. while my fics getting wildly out of control and becoming way longer than i anticipated is pretty common, i'm pretty much never changing overarching plot when this happens. the story that i become interested in telling is typically the story then i end up telling

almost every story can be made shorter or longer. it's less about what happens and more about how that information is conveyed. things that really tend to affect writing length are perspective and breathing room

the shortest fic i have on ao3 that's not part of a series is You Were (Not) Meant For Me (posted 11 years ago, jesus T_T). the premise is that claudia was a witch who intended trained stiles to be a witch and she arranged his marriage to laura hale, the future hale alpha. this is a traditional pairing as talia's husband was also a witch married to talia in service of the pact. except claudia died before she could train stiles or tell him about the engagement. stiles starts learning magic after scott is turned. derek falls for stiles and feels like he's betraying his sister by loving him, betraying stiles by not being the alpha he deserves and not telling him about the arrangement claudia made, and hates himself the entire time, but not enough to stop himself

that's a 100k fic easy

it's 1,696 words

it's extremely limited perspective (derek's) and it's made up only of limited snapshots of moments with very little context. there's no seeing what's happening, only told, which i think would quickly grow boring if it was longer and if the real point of the story wasn't derek's self hatred and how he fails to deal with it. that's the part of the story that isn't told, really - derek does think explicitly that he hates himself, but we're also seeing it in the way he talks and thinks about himself and the people around him

by contrast we have survival is a talent, which is obviously my longest fic. we're over 500k and we've got quite a bit to go

perspective doesn't just refer to character pov, but audience pov - are you being told a story, or are you experiencing the story? this is also tied into breathing room. there's no wrong way, i've done both and will do both, but one certainly requires more words than the other in my experience

siat is told only through draco and harry's perspective, but it's all happening in real time. the audience is being taken along for this story. the thing is that that things in real life don't all come tumbling one after another, not all questions have immediate answers. when depicting character growth and a plot unfurling, i think it's really important to include breathing room to give the audience time to feel that growth and change. i'm stricter about this with siat than anything else i've written, probably sometimes to its detriment. i want you and the characters to have time to feel the effects of emotional revelations and plot hints. i want you to have the time to question and wonder about things the same way the characters do

one time a friend criticized the good place for including the portion where they were alive again on earth because it wasn't as interesting as being in hell, but i disagree. we needed that breathing room both to live with the effects of character growth of going through hell and to have time for the effects of their actions on the plot to settle before they moved forward again. i stopped watching agents of shield because we weren't given enough breathing room - there was never a chance to see the characters not in crisis, the world was always ending, ect. the alchemyst book series has the first like 3 books taking place over a day and a half. i got tired of it after that. there's no breathing room

a story where i gave up on the concept of breathing room was build your wings on the way down. i liked that fic, but i wanted it finished, and to do it with i think optimal pacing would have made it twice as long as it was. so i said screw it, avalanche time, everything is happening all at once right now. there's very little breathing room there, which i think doesn't work too terribly in part because everything is so urgent and everyone is stressed so not being able to catch you breath sort of fits

See Something Say Something did not need to be 215k, although i'm not at all complaining. i feel very happy with how i told this story. but the basic premise - sam getting his powers early, getting involved in the large hunter world secretly from his family, and dean feeling misplaced and worried about how much sam needs/wants him - could have been told a hundred different ways and all would have pulled it off, so to speak

i considered doing the the entire fic from dean's pov (as a sam girl i love his pov because all he thinks about is sam and he's so insane about it) which would have effectively cut out basically the first five chapters. i thought exploring the slow realization of what's going on purely from dean's pov, with the audience having not insight would have been really interesting, just like what I did in dumb luck or good ghost with dean slowly figuring out that sam didn't die in the crash. another thing is the inclusion of all the side characters which i did to make the world feel rich and real, but we didn't need all these outsider povs to get the basic point across. very rarely is something vital being conveyed by an outsider pov, but it reinforced and adds to the main characters. i also initially didn't have wincest, which obviously added a ton of words. i loved exploring dean's self hatred and fear and sam's obliviousness, but bringing them to a place of ignorance to acceptance to happiness is a lot longer of a journey than just dealing with dean's propriety love as an unhinged co-dependent older brother. again, i'm sticking by all these choices, i made them because i thought it was the best way to the tell the story i was most interesting in telling, but my point is that you didn't need them to tell this particular story

it was also how i told the story. we spend a lot of time wallowing in character's emotions, especially dean's and sam's, but the others as well. part of this fic is convincing you that these two brothers should fuck, actually, and doing that effectively is going to take some time, especially at this point in their lives when things are pretty normal. comparatively, fucking your brother after starting the apocalypse is pretty small potatoes. i wanted you to understand these people, to feel what they were feeling, to not feel that it was inconceivable that jess would be willing to share her boyfriend with his brother, to buy all their relationships with each other in a way that isn't purely based on convenience

part of the reason i wrote dumb luck or good ghost before see something say something was that i felt i needed a firmer grasp on who the characters are before getting into who they were and who they could be - especially john, who i feel is exceptionally difficult to write without over excusing his actions or over villainizing them. the reason john doesn't get a single pov in see something say something is that while he's a motivating and underlying factor in much of the story, the story isn't about him. it's about the effect he has on those around him, and i didn't want to sully the pureness of that effect by introducing his internal dialogue, regardless of how persecutionary or absolving it would be. it's just not about him. it's how he responds to others and how they respond to him in turn

anyway! this is another example of something ending up longer than expected, but yeah. the plot of see something say something didn't change much from posting of the first chapter and my stories rarely do - i have plot points in siat that have been there since i posted the first chapter that are still relevant and happening. "harry and draco just. cut dumbledore's fucking hand off" my beloved

[madschiavelique]

﹒ ✦ 𝐀 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐍𝐊 : 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟖 — 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬

✦﹒ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 : you finally get to see jayce and viktor's apartment, learning new things through this visit and getting your heart to beat like crazy.

✦﹒ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : covering up bruises, and mostly being really, really close.

✦﹒ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 : 14,6k

✦﹒ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 : checks my imaginary watch "would you look at that, exams are over! i wonder how long it's been since i updat- jfc two months ago uhhh let's fix that". that's what went through my brain as on the 16th of june i finished the chapter at 7:13 in the morning. sorry it's been so long but god was it an awful end of semester, i'm so glad it's over. on other news i might open writing and art commissions for the summer! if you're interested in me doing that, don't hesitate to tell me so that i can make posts with my tariffs. for art stuff i redirect you guys to my art account aka @mads-arts ! anywho, i hope y'all will like this chapter hihi

✦﹒ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐘 : the pretty boy @oneoftheextras

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓．．𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃 ．．𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓．．𝐌𝐘 𝐊𝐎-𝐅𝐈

When you arrived at the café, exhausted from the day's events, it didn't take them long to understand your situation. Your cheek had already turned a darker shade where you had been hit, and they had no trouble acknowledging from your posture that it wasn't the only part of your body that had been treated that way.

When you got home, Sky greeted you with concern about your state. You simply explained that you had had problems in Zaun, that you had let your mouth get in the way where it shouldn't have, and that you had gotten into trouble because of your attitude.

You had placed your small bag of medicine on the dining table, sitting on the edge of your bed and simply pulling up your T-shirt to reveal only your back. From Sky's exclamation of surprise, you deduced that it didn't look very nice.

You slowly lay down on your bed, your stomach pressed against the mattress, while Sky sat down next to you. She took the bag of medicine with her, plunging her almost trembling hands into the brown paper to retrieve a jar of balm.

After checking with you to see if it was okay to apply it, she very gently pressed a small amount of it against your back, and you immediately tensed up from the chilled pain it caused. Your back arched as a small cry of surprise echoed in your mouth.

Your fingers clenched in your blankets as you let Sky apply the balm all over your skin. You assured her that you could take care of your stomach and cheek, simply telling her to boil water for those bitter infusions that you would have to drink until you had no more.

She had prepared dinner, and you had lightly discussed what had happened whilst you ate before drifting onto the subject of classes and other various topics. You couldn't tell her everything, at the risk of getting her into trouble too. You didn't particularly like the idea of lying to her, but you tried to comfort yourself with the idea that in this case it was for the best.

A little after nine, you managed to get up from your chair with determination for the incoming relief of your muscles which the shower had in store for you.

At first, your teeth dug into the skin of your hand as the heat of the water ran down your back and the few cuts that dotted it, stifling grunts as pain gave way to relaxation.

You thought back over the whole scene, how quickly it had all happened, the possibility that Stex's accomplice also bore a scar similar to yours on his arm. Your fingers traced the skin of your left shoulder, its uneven smoothness leaving a chilling impression on your mind.

Every movement caused you discomfort, everything felt heavy and painful, forcing you to move slowly as you rubbed soap on your body and rinsed it off.  Wrapping yourself in your towel after this ordeal seemed like hell, drying yourself quickly to put on your pajamas and collapse into bed, still on your stomach. You had managed, patiently, to take care of the rest of your cuts and reapply the balm as best you could.

Sleep came quickly, and although you might have expected another nightmare after today's events, for the first time you dreamt of something else entirely.

You were lost in long red corridors where, despite the soft lamps with crimson shades, you couldn't see much. The walls had windows, of course, but it was pitch black outside.

You were escaping from something, you could feel it rumbling in your veins, and you passed through the rooms of this life, from corridors to hallways, from armchairs to sofas. After finding a large room where the fire licked the walls of its hearth with calm and patience, you closed the doors of it behind you. You would be safe here, no doubt.

"Miss?"

You turned towards the rest of the room. Most of it was bathed in the orange glow of the fireplace, whose honey-coloured light spread over silhouettes with no distinct beginning or end. And then, sitting opposite this gaping mouth with its vibrating tongue, hungry for the stone and wood that surrounded it, sat the source of so many envies.

Viktor.

Slumped in a brown leather armchair, his chin slightly forward as his eyes were fixed on the hearth, he seemed to be waiting for the scarves dancing against each other to reveal something to him.

As you took your first step forward, you felt the soft fabric sliding along the skin of your leg, and the distinct memory of it was enough for you to realise what you were wearing — the evening gown from the masquerade ball.

You took a second step, and it seemed to you that the dress was heavier than you remembered, more suffocating, keeping you warmer. Was it the fire that was causing this effect, or its master facing it?

"What are you doing here?" you asked, moving step by step towards him.

His cane was resting on the side of the armchair, just as it had been when you first saw him in the entrance hall of the dormitory building.

He looked away from the fire, and for a moment it seemed to you that the sparks from the crackling logs still lingered in his gaze. He had lit the wood with his eyes, thrown the lighter of his glance to set ablaze an entire hearth that warmed the heart of a house with no beginning and no end.

"When am I not here?" he asked in return.

The fabric of your outfit allowed the blue of its pearls to turn a charcoal black that a spark could ignite, a lake of ink waiting for the touch of a match.

You stood before him, your silhouette covering him in darkness as he looked up at you from below.

"When are you leaving?" The question reverberated in your mouth like an echo in a cave.

He watched you for a moment, contemplating you in silence as the flickering fire filled the room in its cracks.

He grabbed your wrist and, in one swift movement, pulled you towards him. One of your knees found the side of his, the second planting itself in the gap between his legs as your hand landed on the leather of the armchair.

Your head was next to his, and you could feel him pressing his cool cheek against your burning one as the softness of his lips tickled your ear; his free hand grabbed your waist to sit you on his thigh.

"Never."

You felt his lips stretch into a smile, and you seemed to hold your breath under his butterfly kisses running across your cheekbone.

His fingers traced the seams and sequins of your dress along your back until they found the zip.

You felt his fingers pull the zipper down, gradually revealing your back to the hearth, baring your skin to allow the warm rays of the fireplace to spread across your entire back. His fingertips traced rays of sunlight across the skin of your spine as he ran his hands over it at will.

"This is only the beginning."

It was pain that woke you up, your back pressed against the wall, no doubt from your movements in your sleep.

You felt all warm, your lower abdomen seeming to be filled with a hot cloud, like in a bathroom filled with steam.

You turned, trying to find a position that wasn't too uncomfortable, hoping to get back to sleep, but it was no use. How could you possibly fall back asleep after such a dream?

It was better than a nightmare, and much better than a dream, that was for sure, but what were you to do with this physical frustration? With a groan, you got out of bed as quietly as possible, grabbed the bag full of medication that Eris had given you and your mug before slipping into the bathroom.

You didn't want to wake your friend by making more noise than necessary, so you sat on the edge of the bathtub and turned on the tap, turning it to the hottest setting. You couldn't use the hob to boil anything, so you found yourself dangling your finger under the stream of water, waiting boredly for it to heat up.

The painkillers might knock you out, let you sleep a little longer, at least enough to be well rested and make it to your friends' flat.

Your stomach tightened, swallowing silently at the prospect of seeing Viktor after such a dream. What if you did something that betrayed you? Made you look foolish? What if your eyes found something they shouldn't?

The water had finally reached a pleasant temperature to brew your tea, and you placed your tea bag in your mug as you slowly filled it. You set it aside, waiting for it to steep, and you knew what to do while you waited.

Feeling your way back to the dimly lit room, you let a thin beam of light illuminate your path as you grabbed your deck of cards and went back to isolate yourself. You sat on the toilet, your nose wrinkling in pain as the hard surface did nothing to help your situation, although its coolness had the virtue of grounding you.

You shuffled the cards, yawning as you did so, and turned the deck over. The three of pentacles faced you, offering a brief description of keywords from the booklet: The principle of creativity. Working together to create things. Ingenuity.

You raised your eyebrows. Was it about your presentation with Viktor? You hurried to read its description.

Three figures stand in a triangular formation of three pentacles inside a cathedral. They represent collaboration with others and the combination of talents and natural gifts. The figure on the left wears a craftsman's apron, holds craftsman's tools and stands on a craftsman's bench. This suggests the construction of something important. Three is the number of creativity, and pentacles reflect the material world. Therefore, this card reflects creativity and the expansion of everything you can see, smell, touch, hear and taste.

After yesterday's Three of Wands, you were faced with a Three of Pentacles that seemed to bring more collaboration than attack, perhaps the establishment of a plan. Would Renata's letter arrive soon?

Reading this card left you more in the dark than in the light. You didn't know exactly what to expect, and since all the cards often lined up in unexpected ways, you didn't know what to make of it.

Bitterly, you drank your herbal tea, the taste making you want to spit it out as soon as it touched your tongue, but you forced yourself to swallow every last drop. Defeated, you took your little pot of balm in your hand, removing the lid with sluggish movements before taking a small amount and applying it once again as best you could.

You couldn't see your back, of course, but you knew where it hurt just by touch, massaging the skin and stifling sighs of discomfort. Both of your hands joined in the task, wrapping around your waist to find the places one hand couldn't reach.

The memory, so distant and ghostly yet so recent, of Viktor's hand on your waist and the other pressing against the skin of your back came back to you, and you hurried to finish applying the cream so as not to fall into that abyss of desire whose end you did not know.

You put away what you had taken out, turned off the bathroom light and waited a few seconds for your eyes to readjust to the dimmer light in the room before walking over to your bed and letting yourself fall onto it.

Like a stone thrown into the rushing water of a stream, leaving behind thousands of ripples, like the endless cycle of the hours, his words set all the mills of your heart turning. It seems you couldn't resist your longing for him, your body and your thoughts returning to the charge to drink it all in.

You struggled to get back to sleep, and when you did, it was without the gift of dreams or nightmares. What woke you this time was Sky making coffee. She had found a little side job at a florist's shop and was starting her second day of work after yesterday being her first.

She had an interest in flowers, plants, nature and what they could bring, and you were sure you would recommend her to Pearl as soon as you had the opportunity to mention it to her.

She greeted you as you emerged from your sleep, asking about your well-being and your symptoms. You were already feeling a little better, the balm and the herbal tea combining to ease your pain enough that you didn't find it too difficult to get up and join her for breakfast.

When she asked you what you were going to do with your day, you didn't lie to her completely as you had done until now, telling her that you had run into Viktor the day before on your way back to the café to tell him you couldn't work for the rest of the weekend, and that he had taken advantage of this window of opportunity to invite you out. Not entirely a lie, not entirely the truth, a confusing in-between that you hoped one day to be able to untangle without causing her any concern.

She nodded, got ready to leave, and you wished her good luck for this second day, from which she would surely return smelling of fresh petals and green water.

So when she left, you enjoyed the morning a little, the sun shining through the thick panes of your half-open window and the pleasant sound of the city waking up outside.

It was so serene and peaceful that it was sometimes hard to imagine anything calmer. But now, since you had seen the green plains of Demacia, you felt like you wanted to experience every kind of calm there was, hold them close to your ear, and remember their music when you needed to be lulled to sleep.

You finished your coffee, the hour advancing despite yourself, life not waiting for you. You got ready, putting on simple clothes that would make you look like any other citizen of Piltover while still keeping you comfortable.

When you returned to the mirror in your bathroom, you were greeted by a dark expanse stretching from your jaw to your cheekbone, as if a large fistful of blueberries and raspberries had been crushed on your cheek. Stex hadn't missed you, and you had to stifle everything to prevent Jayce from getting any ideas.

Luckily, the passage of time and constant use of Eris' products had allowed the swelling to go down and the bruise to appear less dark. So once again, you took some of the make-up that Selene had given you a long time ago and that you had used at the masquerade, hoping that it would be enough to cover it up.

After an unsatisfactory first application, you panicked a little when you realised that it was still slightly visible. You breathed heavily, preventing yourself from giving in to anxiety as you grabbed some compact powder to set it, hoping that it would soften the effect a little.

There was still a little blue under your eye, but you could probably just pretend that you had spilled ink while rewriting your notes and that, in a sudden panic, you had smeared it on your cheek and the stain remained, hence the foundation to cover up the mess.

You could come up with excuses, and you just hoped Viktor would play along. You glanced at the time, not far from ten o'clock. You could afford to be a little late for once. Viktor might not be awake yet, and Jayce was probably out jogging or doing whatever perfect people like him do in the morning when they get up.

So, you gathered just the essentials in your bag in case you spent the whole day there – which was highly likely – and finally stepped out the door. You passed a few students in the corridors, others in the common room, and strangely, your heart sank.

Gone were the days when you used to sit on those same armchairs and sofas, discussing cards with Jayce, Eris and Viktor. Yet it seemed like only yesterday that you had brought bread to Jayce and that you all knocked on each other's doors when you needed anything – even if Sky acted as ambassador when Viktor was the one in need.

The air was mild outside, the weather proving to be truly clement this weekend as coats and jackets were put away in favour of light jumpers and shirts. You made your way to the flat, the sun caressing your face.

You knew the way, and knew the apartment itself, for that matter. Jayce had invited you there once or twice in the past to study together or catch up on classes.

You wondered how it had changed now that Viktor was living there too, if the renovations and the organisation required to accommodate a second person had completely transformed the place.

You made a little detour to Emeline's bakery on the way, picking up some pastries and sweets as small gifts for your two friends, adding to the small presents from your friend whom you never seemed to be able to thank enough.

After a fifteen-minute walk, you reached the student district where the wealthiest scholars lived, or those who were financially supported by patrons who saw enough potential in them to provide them with lodging and accommodation.

You could probably have enjoyed this life, if you had asked Selene, but you didn't need to end up with more pretentious people than necessary. The very idea of possibly ending up in an apartment not far from Tyler made you want to scream.

However, the idea of being able to live just a few doors away from Viktor filled your heart with warmth, and you tried to fan away the mist of love that emanated from it.

Knowing the code, you entered it to access the building's lobby. Two walls of mailboxes formed a small corridor leading to a stairwell winding around a slightly outdated lift.

Afraid of getting stuck there because of its condition, you took the stairs. Jayce was on the top floor, but you preferred to endure the climb rather than find yourself trapped in a box. You went slowly, trying not to get dizzy from spinning upwards.

Once you reached their floor, you caught your breath a little, walking slowly towards the door at the far end on your left. When you got there, you hesitated for a moment. You didn't have a mirror to make sure your hair didn't look weird, or that your make-up was on properly, or that your outfit was correctly adjusted.

Out of habit, you didn't have the reflexes to make sure your appearance was immaculate, and you blamed part of that on the fact that you were in a slightly more affluent neighbourhood of Piltover, and the other part on the fact that you hoped you wouldn't look foolish in front of Viktor – even if it wouldn't have been the first time.

You brought your hand to the surface of the door, joining your index and middle fingers to knock on it. Your heart shouldn't have been beating the way it was, and you consoled yourself with the idea that it was mainly because of the climb up the stairs and not because you were waiting to see Viktor.

You heard a bit of commotion on the other side of the door, and for a moment you amused yourself by imagining Jayce rearranging a few things to lessen the effect of the mess.

It was he who opened the door, wearing a white short-sleeved polo shirt and neat brown trousers, all smiles.

"Hey!" he greeted you, stepping aside and gesturing for you to come inside. "Please, make yourself at home."

So you followed his instructions, entering the flat, which welcomed you with the smell of chemical clay from the new paint covering most of the walls. To your left was a hallway with a few doors and partially unpacked boxes scattered along the walls. Before looking any further, however, you walked towards the main room, which had shrunk since the last time you saw it.

You immediately noticed the change in layout. Opposite the entire wall he used for his equations – which, incidentally, seemed to be filled with new and more complex ones that were unfamiliar to you – was a crimson sofa on which lay a few scattered papers, covered from top to bottom with numbers and various notes.

Your eyes scanned the rest of the room, partially drunk cups of coffee sat near the coffee maker, and the work surface to the side was rather tidy compared to the state you had seen it in before.

"Vik?" he called from the hallway, "you comin'?"

You heard the distinct click of a cane coming from the other end of the hallway, and you tried to act as if nothing was happening, to look away and not let on that you were waiting more impatiently than necessary for Viktor to come around the corner.

"What's this?" you asked, pointing at the board with your chin as you set your bag down, holding the packets of sweets in your hands as you stepped forward to face the board. "Doesn't look like any of the homework we were asked to do. S.P.I.T.S?"

S.P.I.T.S was the clever abbreviation for Steam Powered Intra-Thermal Systems. You had already taken that option last year, but you had fallen back on S.E, Stabilisation of Energies.

"Not exactly," Jayce muttered, coming up beside you to look at all the chalk marks and various writings, placing his hands on his hips. "Something we wanted to talk to you about, actually."

You turned to him, frowning. "Really?"

"We both need to get this off our chests."

You turned to his voice, as if answering a call, as if even trying to stop yourself had become pointless.

Viktor was there, wearing a dark brown T-shirt with rolled-up sleeves over black city trousers that fell over his socks. His hair was slightly tousled; he couldn't have been awake for long.

And yet he carried himself with a grace that seemed to require no effort, a dark and poignant nonchalance that never loosened its grip on your heart. He looked at you, and you averted your eyes away a few seconds later for fear of losing yourself in his gaze.

"What's this?" Jayce asked, pointing to the craft paper.

"Uh," you felt as if you had been forcibly brought back to reality, realising once again the weight in your hands. "Just some sweets you both like."

Jayce couldn't help but step forward to spread the paper apart with his curious fingers, his eyes lighting up at the contents he was dealing with.

“You’re sent by some gods now, I’m sure of it,” he chuckled. “Let me getsome plates for them,” he took the packages in his hands, already walking away, “Vik, mind showing her around?”

“An apartment she’s already been in?” the latter asked.

"Well, some things changed!" he replied as he disappeared into what appeared to be the kitchen.

"Afraid of losing yourself, Moravec?" you said teasingly, and he turned directly to you with a frown at the nickname. "I'm sure with such a busy and long corridor, you must have had some trouble finding your way around."

One corner of his mouth turned up as he let his head hang towards the floor, chewing the inside of his cheek as if trying to prevent any smile from emerging. When he raised his head, he looked at the board before returning your gaze, his head tilted to one side.

"I had to get used to all this by echolocation," he demonstrated, tapping the wall closest to him with the tip of his cane, "a puzzle that even the greatest academics dare not approach."

You smiled softly, erasing the frown from your nose by stretching your split lip, rolling it in until it was completely under your teeth, and moistening it as you released it. He noticed the gesture, a thin veil of concern settling over his features.

His tone grew lower, surely making sure Jayce couldn't hear anything. "Are you okay?"

You sighed heavily, the memories of the pain you had felt in the shower and when you went to bed coming back to your mind – but quickly being overshadowed by the dream that had followed, and you didn't dare meet his gaze as your eyes fell on the knuckles of your hands.

"Known worse, known better," you explained simply, his eyebrows furrowed and you deduced that he was going to emphasise the “worse”, you cut him off. "Are you going to show me around or do I have to root here?"

He sighed, his eyes silently scolding you as if to say, ‘I'm not over this subject’. He motioned for you to go ahead of him, pointing his head towards the corridor. "Not that I mind having you as a green plant here, but if you insist."

So you walked ahead of him, moving down the corridor as he had indicated. You felt like you were being watched, as if Viktor's amber eyes were piercing through the back of your neck, and for a moment you felt the same warmth on your back as you had felt from the fireplace in your dream.

The first door you passed was the kitchen, where Jayce was closing a cupboard and placing two plates on the counter. It was a long room with a sink right next to a hob that didn't seem to have the same gas problems you encountered at home.

Multiple brand-new cupboards ran the height of the walls, pressed against a fridge the size of Jayce, which you envied slightly. A small table against the opposite wall with a chair was probably used as a dining table, although the second one seemed to have already been brought back into the main room.

"This is obviously the bathroom," Viktor said as he came up beside you.

You chuckled, bringing both hands under your elbows. "You wash in the sink, I suppose?"

"A bit cramped, but it does the job," he nodded, continuing his joke, "Jayce has a harder time getting in there, though."

"Right," Jayce replied, carefully opening the packets to try and grab the sweets, "very funny."

You laughed softly, continuing on your way as the slow, steady tapping of Viktor's cane echoed behind you, closer than you thought.

The next room was the actual bathroom, similar in size to the kitchen, with two sinks, a toilet and a large bathtub.

"Could this be..." you feigned confusion, "the living room?"

"Spot on," Viktor agreed.

"I really like what you did with the armchair, nice touch," you pointed out, gesturing towards the toilet. "It wasn't placed here before."

"The apartment's explosion destroyed some of the plumbing, so we had the liberty to change the number of rooms and their placement," he nodded, "especially because the plumbing changes forced us to rethink the layout of the apartment."

"Ah..." you acknowledged before moving on to the next room, which turned out to be Jayce's new bedroom.

It wasn't particularly tidy, with bits of paper scattered here and there from his desk to the corner of his bed, his academy uniform hastily folded over the back of his desk chair, and an atmosphere of personal organisation that was not to be disturbed.

"This, I know," you pointed out, "hasn't changed much."

“Ximena had to make sure everything would be okay, and the Kirammans took care of replacing the furniture that had been broken,” Viktor sighed.

You hummed to yourself, and finally realised that if they weren’t sharing a room, it was because the next room was Viktor’s.

Tentatively, you took another step, beginning your slow walk towards his bedroom door. You could still feel Viktor's gaze on the back of your neck and your back, and you swallowed as you reached the doorframe.

You would have thought that his room would be impersonal, that its walls would be covered with nothing but fresh paint, that the lack of accessories and decorations would come as no surprise, since you didn't necessarily imagine Viktor as a materialistic person.

Instead, you found a cosy room with purple walls, where sheets of paper of various sizes were pinned here and there, and you could even make out some receipts. You noticed that it was already tidier than Jayce's, that his desk was more neatly organised and that the bed was made with thick blankets, that no clothes were sticking out of his wardrobe in the corner of the room, and that his bookshelves were arranged straight without many volumes leaning to one side.

His window was open, there was no wind, just a cool breeze from outside that made a few papers on his desk flutter. The chair was pulled back; he must have been working before he was called.

You slowly stepped into the room, your eyes scanning the walls, lingering on a few papers. There were notes full of calculations, pencil sketches of various and sundry parts, exhibition flyers among which you recognised prints from Demacian museums you had visited. You could still feel Viktor's cane clinging to your waist before replacing that sensation with his own hand.

Your eyes scanned the rest of the notes to escape this alluring memory, and found a piece of paper you recognised. It was a receipt from The Brown Bitt for an order of an espresso, a long black, a mocha and a jasmine tea scone, and it seemed like yesterday when you recommended either bleach or hydrochloric acid to your friend. You smiled to yourself, wondering why you had kept such a thing.

Your eyes drifted to the next note, and again you recognised it from the first line.

A simple thank you could've done it.

It was the note you had exchanged during those few minutes of detention. Only, you remembered four lines in total, and now there were five.

Me? Thanking you? That's a largeness of spirit I don't have.

You remembered the bitterness, the frustration of just sharing a room with him, and the feeling seemed so foreign to you.

Are you still thinking about me? Is that why you're so unfocused?

If only he knew the irony of that sentence.

In your dreams.

And in yours, apparently.

But the last sentence had, to your knowledge, never reached your eyes, as Selene had interrupted in the meantime.

I came here because no one has ever done what you did for me.

The pain in your cheek came back to you after Tyler's blow, the weight of Viktor's cane in your hands whistling through the air as you struck the young man in response to his condescending malice.

You turned to Viktor. He hadn't moved from the doorway except to press his shoulder against it as he watched you. You seemed to discern a kind of expectation in his gaze, not as if he were seeking approval, but rather an answer.

"No one?" you asked, nodding slightly towards the note while your eyes never left his.

"No one," he confirmed, his temple pressing against the doorframe.

You nodded silently, biting the inside of your cheek as you looked away to the rest of the room. Your eyes fell on the tarot deck on his bedside table, and as you were about to ask him about his possible readings, Jayce's silhouette appeared next to him.

"How do you like the changes?" he asked, surveying the room from its four corners.

"I'm no apartment expert, but this is a good one," you agreed, stepping towards them. "Tidy, I'd say.”

"You should have seen us yesterday,” Jayce remarked, "as soon as Viktor came home and announced that you were coming, the tidying mission began immediately-"

He squinted his eyes for a moment, his gaze fixating on your cheek, and you felt a flow of questions coming.

“Did you hurt yourself?” he asked. “Your cheek has little dark spots.”

You exchanged a very quick glance with Viktor, seeming intrigued by how you were going to get out of all this.

“I fell asleep on a copy last night, the ink wasn't dry enough so you can imagine what a nice surprise it was when I woke up.”

He didn't seem very startled by this news, no doubt you thought, because he was no stranger to this sort of thing and you suspected that he'd had to clean up a lot of copies as a result.

“I see,” he took in, “and your lip, it's split.”

“Eris's cat has its own way of saying hello,” you sneered.

“Didn't know she had a cat,” he mused aloud as he started walking towards the end of the corridor, you and Viktor exchanging a glance, the latter letting you pass outside the room before following you.

“How come you're free to come here today anyway?” he questioned, the plates of pastries in his hands as the three of you made your way towards the main room.

“I'm not working during the entire weekend,” you sighed, “had some business in Zaun.”

“No way!” exclaimed the golden boy as he set the plates down on a coffee table near the sofa, “Viktor went there yesterday too.”

Viktor hadn't mentioned that you'd bumped into each other yesterday, having probably explained to Jayce that he'd invited you here during the week and not as part of a little stroll you'd both been on. 

So you turned to him. “Really?” you asked, feigning ignorance.

“Mhm,” he nodded, his dark, mischievous eyes gleaming before he decided to take a seat in one of the corners of the sofa.

Jayce had taken the second corner, leaving you only the middle, where you sat down with some nervousness. The last time you'd found yourself on a sofa shared with Viktor, your heart had not stopped racing.

“What were you doing in Zaun?” inquired Jayce as he reached for a pastry with his hand.

“Well um,” you took one in turn, “in this situation you're not allowed to ask that question.”

He frowned. “Really? Why?”

You shrugged. “I just had to oxygenate my sponges.”

He raised his eyebrows, his eyelids half-closed in exasperation. “In Zaun?”

“Think I don't have the right to keep things to myself when you guys literally hid this from me?” you remarked as you pointed to the board full of equations you were trying to decipher, the numbers and letters leading to mix with what you theorised were runes.

“That's different, this-” he pressed his fist to his mouth as his jaw muscles worked to chew his mouthful, “this is top secret.”

You arched an eyebrow. “What makes you think my reasons are not top secret either?”

“I-” he began, but huffed and shook his head. “Forget it.”

You weren't really lying about anything you said either, you were being kept in the dark about the whole thing. 

There was a brief silence, during which Viktor helped himself to a pastry, one that you'd chosen expressly for him, taking into account his tastes from the few times he'd come to the café.

“What's the thing you wanted to talk about anyway?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed and still looking at the blackboard.

Jayce and Viktor glanced at each other from either end, your head alternating between the two as Jayce sucked his sugar-laden fingers one by one before get up.

“Let's back up a bit.”

***

“So let me get this straight. You managed to create magic, Jayce almost got expelled, you smashed up Heimerdinger's lab, and you're now working for the council on...?”

“Hex Tech,” Jayce smiled proudly, “we named it Hex Tech.”

It had already been a few hours since Jayce begun his explanation, and you'd had to gather a considerable amount of information.

The morning pastries had soon enough been replaced by homemade sandwiches, Jayce had left his sofa spot to stand and recount the story that had unfolded from last summer to today, in part, and you had remained seated on the sofa next to Viktor, who occasionally provided additional information.

From the explosion in Jayce's flat of a more or less solved origin, followed by his meeting with Viktor, Jayce's trial in front of the council and his voluntary transgression that very evening after many, many calculations in Heimerdinger's laboratory to test his theory and finally arrive at a conclusive result.

He went on to explain how this incident had led to his association with Mel Medarda, who, one thing leading to another, had raised him in the social ranks and financed his projects.

“Right, Hex Tech,” you sighed, still baffled by all the information that had remained so confidential.

Jayce got up to go into the kitchen, picking up the coffee pot that had been refilled in the meantime not only for the pleasure of drinking it but also, and above all, because you needed it to keep you going through all this.

“If you have any question, we're here to answer them as best as we can,” confirmed Viktor.

“And as much as we're allowed to say,” Jayce added immediately.

The gears of your mind, though exhausted, were curious enough to overcome the feeling of fatigue and turn to Viktor;

“So when you stopped being Heimerdinger's assistant,” you began, thinking back to one of the most fundamental and transformative conversations of your friendship after you'd been so ill, “you didn't leave this post because you didn't have any interest in it anymore but because of…” you described vague movements in the air to point at the board, “this?”

“You could say that,” the latter confirmed as he sat down to face you on the sofa, his good leg bent cross-legged towards him as he leanded down to take his cup of coffee that you had made in the meantime and that Jayce had just poured for him.

He brought the steaming mug to his lips, blowing gently on it before taking a sip. You couldn't help but feel your heart grow light as, after his sip, Viktor flashed a smile that seemed to be all his own before taking another sip and straightening up.

“After this unexpected demonstration, Heimerdinger encouraged me not to continue being his assistant, no matter how advantageous it was, and…” his thumb gently caressed the side of the cup where his lips had previously rested, “I suppose that he was more scientifically curious about our discoveries than to waste some potential.”

“But then,” you continued, clutching your own cup in your hands, “why are you guys still studying? You both are accomplished, Viktor has the top of the grades of the Academy-”

“I thought you had that?” questioned Viktor.

You turned to him, arching an eyebrow. “Do you want me to retract my previous statement?”

Viktor seemed a little surprised. You, who for so long had wanted to retain your number one position in the Academy results, now found yourself consciously giving him such a title? 

He said nothing, simply taking another sip instead without taking his eyes off you.

“So,” you continued, “you both clearly don't need to continue studying at the Academy, so why still stay here?”

“Withdrawing, at least on my part, would be seen as strange in the eyes of the teachers,” Jayce explained, “and because Heimerdinger was keen for both of us to finish our year. The deal is simple - we maintain good grades this year, and as soon as it's over, we officially get our own lab at the Academy and are free to go ahead with our projects under the watchful eyes of the council.”

“How do you do your research without a laboratory in these cases?”

“We have permission from Heimerdinger to use his lab while ours is being set up,” explained Viktor, “it's about time we had one anyway, considering what happened last time.”

“Last time?”

Viktor sketched a smile, pressing the backs of his curved fingers against his temple in support of his head.

“Do you remember the power cut?” he questioned until you nodded. “Well, it may be that we tried a new combination in our work, not to reveal anything, and... that the energy had been a little too strong and was the trigger for the blackout.”

It all made sense, and remembering that the blackout had apparently affected part of the neighbourhood made you feel strange.

“Yeah, I figured cooking on your radiator wasn't the brightest idea coming from two of the smartest students I know.”

“Hey,” Jayce began, “we all come to desperate measures.”

“Of course,” you agreed with a tired chuckle, looking back at your own ‘ink’ explanation for your cheek, shaking your head slightly at the realisation. “So that's how you knew about Tyler being linked to Hoskell.”

“Being closer to the council does open a few doors,” remarked the Golden Boy, “strange in fact that Selene didn't mention it to you.”

“She doesn't deal with Hoskell,” you sighed as you slumped back on the sofa, feeling Viktor's gaze settle on you, “he doesn't believe in those ‘superstitions’, and she can't stand him.”

You remembered the few times when, on her way back to her living room, Selene would light herself a cigarette rolled with lavender and other herbs in a violet-flavoured paper and stand on her balcony. She never got angry or raised her voice; the only instances of frustration she let show were in those cigarettes. An old Zaun habit, you thought.

Everyone in Zaun who smoked was giving themselves a lux by doing so. Why did they do that? Well, living in such polluted air would discourage many from taking up smoking. That's why the biggest, wealthiest people who could afford such destruction when their air was a little cleaner than the others, were rich. Selene had apparently once been one of them, but she had never really told anyone how or why she had left that life, not even you.

Reflecting on this luxury, another question came to mind, making you turn back to Jayce. “That's why you gave me so much money for the masquerade with such ease,” you pointed at them both, your index finger tracing them in a metronome motion, “you got a load of money.”

“Partly yes,” Jayce nodded with a shrug before his eyebrows jumped in turn, “I almost forgot!”

He got up to leave the room in your confusion, turning to Viktor with a frown.

“This is about to get good,” sighed the latter as he poured himself some more coffee.

Jayce came back into the room, carrying what you thought were two invitation cards and in his other hand some cash. He arrived in front of you, breathing heavily.

“I've got two invitations to another gala evening.”

“Did you get invited again?” you remarked in a choked up voice.

“I don't really have a choice,” he remarked, his eyebrows tilting back as his upper lip rose in embarrassment, “we've finalised an experiment that could massively change things and the council have decided to throw a celebration to mark the occasion.”

You watched his two hands, outstretched towards you, the invitations made of thick paper and gold ink.

“Is the second one for you?” you asked, turning to Viktor.

“No,” replied Viktor, “I've already got mine.”

“So who is it for?”

“For the person of your choice,” informed Jayce, “just give me the name now and I can write it down in the right ink.”

“Um…” you wondered, your eyes searching for something in the scenery that would eventually lead you to the right answer, but there was only one that came to mind. “Eris.”

“Eris?” Jayce remarked with a small smile. “Cool! How do you write her full name?”

He went off towards part of their work surface, searching through the few drawers and shelves that belonged there. You got up from the sofa to join him and watch what he was doing.

He finally found a small jar, the glass of which showed through to a slightly dark, golden ink that was still wafting around the sides of the pot as he unscrewed it, placing it gently on the side before picking up a quill and checking the needle to make sure it was clean.

“How is it spelled?” he enquired as he dipped the tip and adjusted one of the invitations under his fingers into a bell shape to hold it in place.

“E-r-i-s…” you spelled out as he carefully tilted the quill, scraping the grain of the paper.

He had a neat cursive handwriting which, to your surprise, was graceful and resembled the beautiful slanted handwriting of ancient writers.

Viktor came to join you, you could feel him looking over your shoulder, and you hoped that the shiver that had run up your spine in a flash would soon subside.

You glanced at him from the side, meeting his gaze for a moment, which he punctuated with the corner of his lips rising before turning his attention to the way Jayce was writing. It only took a few seconds for his eyebrows to furrow.

“Are you sure you've done a legible E? Because I think it could be mistaken for an F.”

You looked back at its golden features. “You write smaller than I thought.”

“Both of you stop,” the latter asked in a tone strained by concentration, his eyes not taking their focus off the invitation. 

“We're just teasing you,” you smiled.

Viktor pointed to a letter, the movement bringing him a little closer to you. “Is that a P or a Q I see there?”

With a sigh, Jayce laid his quill to one side and pressed a hand on each of your shoulders, pushing you both out of the room and leaving you in the corridor, closing the door leading to the main room.

"Jayce, be nice," Viktor chuckled. "There's nothing to criticise about the hallway."

"Except that door, which is super ugly," you confirmed, looking at the door he'd closed on you, the latter not even properly painted all the way through.

“I'll leave you to criticise this door in peace while I finish the invitations!” he replied from beyond the thickness of the door.

You both smiled, the silence falling a little again as you waited in the hallway. You wondered if, out of politeness, you should make a remark about one of the features of the hallway, or ask if he'd enjoyed the pastries, or.... 

“I'm sorry we've had to hide this from you all this time,” Viktor began, not turning to you until you made the first move. “We were waiting for the best time to tell you, and then,” his head cocked to the side as he looked up at the ceiling for a moment, “there were some legal restrictions that forced us to-”

“Viktor?” you interrupted, however, the latter regaining your gaze. “I don't blame you.”

He drew in a long breath, one of his jaw muscles tightening. You nodded to yourself, your gaze drifting to the door handle. When would you yourself find the faith to open up about your hidden subjects?

“I know what it's like to feel remorse for not being able to say everything,” you assured him before turning to face him again, “thank you for telling me all this.”

You wondered for a moment if he had considered that he should share something with you because of the statement you had made the day before regarding some of the information you had given him about the aftermath of the whole situation.

He nodded silently, a flash of realisation passing his pressed eyes under his furrowed brows. He returned your gaze, and you could feel the mischief permeating his.

“I don't think Jayce was such a fool to bring us into this hallway,” he informed, resting his cane against the side of the wall, grabbing a jacket from the coat rack to search its pockets. “There's something I'd like to show you.”

You couldn't hide your surprise. “Is there more to see?”

“Always.”

The door opened, Jayce bringing the two invitations into your line of sight.

“Ah, Jayce,” greeted Viktor, placing his foot in his shoe and using his cane as a sort of shoehorn, “you've come at the perfect time to say your goodbyes to Miss.”

“Leaving already?” asked Jayce, his disappointment almost childish.

You half-opened your mouth but Viktor was quicker than you. “I'm taking her to the lab.”

“You're going to show her...?” asked Jayce, leaving the end of his sentence in a blur as he raised his eyebrows.

“Absolutely,” the latter confirmed, simply placing the bunch of keys in his pocket as he opened the door. “Shall we?”

You held your hands up, trying to find your way around. “Holdon, you're taking me to Heimerdinger's lab?”

Viktor nodded. “Yes.”

You shook your head as if to bring yourself back to the surface of reality. ‘Really?

“The Professor hasn't been using his lab lately,” Jayce informed you, “it's been a while since he's been inventing anything or checking equations, so he's allowed us to occupy it to keep it from gathering dust.” He sighed, bringing his hand to the back of his neck. “Chances are this one's got a few bits under repair too, thanks to us.”

“Let's hope what I'm showing you doesn't do any more of that,” Viktor pointed out as he walked out the door.

You thanked Jayce for taking you in, assuring him that when you got home you'd send Eris the invitation in a letter and that she'd probably be delighted to come. You promised her that you'd be back at the flat soon, and that you could always bring in an expertise on their calculations if they needed it, even if they didn't seem to need the help.

Once the door was closed, Viktor started walking up the lift cage.

“So, you're the two great scientists backed by the Council who are about to change the fate of this world,” you summarised.

“A very long title,” breathed Viktor, pressing the button on the lift which was already upstairs and opening for you, “two scientists will simply suffice.”

“Don't you want some of that recognition?” you asked anyway as you followed him down the lift shaft.

He shrugged as the doors closed. “Fame is of little importance to me,” he turned to you, “it's not why I'm doing my research.”

You nodded. It was true that, from the outset, Viktor had never shown any greed for attention or sought out golden ivy crowning him simply for its colour. No, Viktor had always strived for excellence out of pure sincerity for progress.

“I didn't know I was hanging around with perfection itself,” you chuckled softly, hoping that your playful tone would manage to disguise the gentleness with which you meant this truth.

“Everyone has faults, including you,” he raised his eyebrows, his eyes dropping to you.

You parted your mouth in mock shock as you met his gaze.

“Let's prove that. What's your worst fault?” he asked.

“You first,” you replied.

“I'm persistent. Your turn.”

You looked away. “I can be very uncooperative at times.”

“Really,” he tilted his head to the side, falsely surprised. “Can you give me an example?”

“My answer is obviously no.”

You couldn't see him directly, but you could feel him smiling sideways, a little chuckle escaping his nose as the gilded doors of this modern cage opened onto the corridor and he stepped out. It sometimes seemed that the only time you'd open up to someone would be during your autopsy, but maybe he'd manage to dissect you before death got a hold of you.

He moved towards the doors of the hall, opening one of them and holding it for you. You thanked him silently as you stepped outside and the warmth of the sun washed over you.

Viktor indicated the stop not far from another shuttle than the one you were used to taking, walking at his own pace.

“I still can't believe you're using Heimerdinger's lab,” you said under your breath.

“We would have had our own,” he sighed, “were it not for the suspicions.”

Arriving at the stop, no one was there but you. At this time of day, people were busier finishing their meals or having a nap than taking shuttle buses around the city.

“Is it that revolutionary?” you asked as the shuttle reached the end of the street. “Enough that you have to take so many precautions?”

“Eh,” his eyebrows raised, “Yes. Our research in bad hands would be detrimental.”

The doors opened, validating your tickets before moving on. The only ears that might pay attention to your conversation were those of the driver. He took a seat with his back to one of the window panels, and you stood holding onto a bar.

Perhaps it was an internal fear of the possibility that your knees might touch again, and that in a space so open and without the pretext of pressing up against anyone in rush hour, your despair would be seen as embarrassingly obvious and impossible to hide, to conceal in the depths of your body.

The engine vibrated from the ground to your legs, purring a little as the shuttle began to move forward.

You couldn't keep your eyes from meeting his. They seemed to harbour an unshakeable good mood, a pride that he wasn't going to boast about, but which he was going to keep meticulously inside him.

“What?” he asked.

You must have been watching him continuously and forgotten that he could do the same.

“Nothing,” you cleared your throat so that it wouldn't be any more treacherous than your eyes had been. “I just... didn't expect this.”

“Which was the goal,” he confirmed.

You rolled your eyes. He was obviously right.

“Why choose me, of all, to know?”

He shrugged. “You're top of the Academy-”

“Wouldn't this fact stop you guys from allowing me to see this then?” you argued. “A top of the Academy could very well steal your work and…” your hand gestured uncertainly in the air, “do evil stuff with it.”

He wore a smile stretching the corner of his lip which slightly darkened his eyes. ‘But you wouldn't.’

You hoped he'd never touch the bar your hand held, because you were pretty sure that if he did, he'd feel the frantic rhythm of your heart hitting the metal, ready to bend the bar of that cage and slide out of your chest.

“I could,” even the possibility sounded ridiculous from your mouth.

He chuckled. “But you still wouldn't.”

You sighed, there was no point in fighting a battle you knew you couldn't win.

“Besides,” he continued as the silence returned, “you would have figured out one day or the other, and I trust you enough to show you this.”

I trust you.

Your ears had isolated these three words from the rest of the sentence. Somewhere inside you, you were aware of this, even if it seemed hard to accept. But the fact that these words were in the air, that they were offered to you and you alone, made you feel all tender in the heart.

You felt guilty, though, at the idea that he might think you didn't trust him. Your nature of being on your guard all the time, of never giving in to give him so much as a glance in a crack that you hadn't camouflaged well with your edifice of hardness, seemed to you to be a stoicism that was antipathetically opposed to what Viktor was saying.

And you were ashamed of being like that.

But you found hope in the fact that it wouldn't last forever, promising yourself as you had promised him that the day would come when he would know the end of the story. Just not today. You'd let them make their revelations, show off their pride, and soon you'd reveal everything.

The shuttle reached the Academy stop, and you both got off. You had passed through the doors of this establishment for years already, had walked through many of its rooms, but never had you had access to Heimerdinger's laboratory.

You climbed the small steps leading inside, Viktor greeting the receptionist as you made your way to the lift.

"Wanna race to the top?" he teased as he pressed his thumb against the polished button.

You giggled softly. "I don't even know the placement of the lab."

He smiled, apparently amused that you might have agreed if you knew the route you were to take.

The lift came, you entered it, and your heart began to race. Not that the confined space in his company was particularly conducive to this excitement, but reaching Heimerdinger's laboratory had been part of your dreams for a long time.

He seemed to notice. “Nervous?”

You exhaled a long breath. “A little.”

He smiled, his voice softening slightly. “It's just a room.”

“Not any room,” you countered hastily.

You reached the floor in question, Viktor going out first, taking his keyring in his hands at the same time.

You observed the high walls of the corridors with their few simple, elegant embellishments, skirting a few walls before Viktor stopped at a large door with three locks.

He raised the key ring to his shoulder level. “Want to open it?”

Your shoulders and arms felt hot for half a second as your eyes fell on the keys.

“No, go ahead,” you replied, though, trying to swallow your nervousness.

You were afraid of making a fool of yourself out of anxiety, or holding the keys wrong, or dropping them, or saying stupid things.

He nodded, using three keys as he was accustomed to doing from now on under your watchful eyes. When the door opened, you inhaled heavily as he turned to you.

“If you would be so kind,” he smiled as he pointed inside the laboratory.

He wasn't being particularly mocking or condescending, just teasing, as he'd always been with you.

You peeked your head inside, letting the smell of old paper and something more electric fill the air. In the centre of the room was a long octagonal table at the bottom of the floor, no doubt originally intended to be Heimerdinger's size, and having not yet been fitted out in any other way for lack of time. That didn't stop the room having a ceiling where you could easily stack more than half a dozen Professors before reaching it.

The floor was scattered with a variety of books, no doubt taken from the large walls of library shelves that occupied the entire height of the room's walls. On your right, a taller, rounded table was placed not far from a U-shaped staircase that went up half a floor and led to a large bay window with an unobstructed view of Piltover.

The air was permeated with the dry, warm smell of paper mingling with the iodine of ink and what felt like salt dough.

You caught yourself with your nose in the air, observing every little detail of the room, drinking it in with your eyes and finding satiation for your curiosity.

“Don't mind the mess,” Viktor muttered lightly under his breath as he moved through the room out of habit.

For Viktor, it was probably just a piece of experimentation, and one that didn't belong to him. But for you, the weight of progress permeated the atmosphere of this room, holding you in place.

“With Academy work, the apartment, and our own research ... We haven't had the time to clean it up since the incident.”

“They did get the time to get the window done though,” you remarked. “Maybe they could have swept it up.”

“Would you like us to go through your things and disturb the very precise order you've established?” he questioned. “What's more, with our calculations and details, it's preferable that as few people as possible see all this and don't touch it, to avoid further explosions.”

It was true that, given the circumstances, the slight mess in the organisation of the room didn't seem so bad to you. Still, you couldn't help thinking about the power cut, the flimsy excuse Jayce had given you, and that in a building full of oblivious students they had conducted powerful energy experiments in a few small square metres.

Yes, a laboratory with more space but a bit more clutter didn't seem so horrible all of a sudden.

Faced with your silence, and your continued contemplation, Viktor walked around the rounded table on which sat a very special device. The prototype was crude, a sort of six-pointed copper cage criss-crossing geometrically above a base on which cables were clustered like tentacles extending from the sides. In the centre of this small platform, between thin copper clamps, was a round, cracked stone that glowed strangely.

“We haven't had a chance to fine-tune the prototype yet,” said Viktor as he pressed the button on a remote control, the large bay window beginning to be covered by a metal shutter, plunging the room into darkness. “We're moving a bit slowly with the classes on the side, and Jayce's occasional trysts with Mel…”

It almost seemed to you that he was trying to make excuses, as if what he was about to show you was mediocre, as if he was taking every conceivable precaution in case you were disappointed, as if it didn't matter after all if it didn't impress you or convince you of the fact that he was doing incredible things.

And for a moment, you were taken aback: Viktor was trying to impress you, to gain recognition, not out of pride or pretence at having produced something that would undoubtedly go beyond anything you could have created, but because he perhaps expected your admiration.

Under the silence of your amazement, you almost thought you saw him nervous. Even though the room was plunged into darkness, with the exception of the emergency exit icon above the large door, the glow of the stone cast a light on your faces that covered you like a bluish balm.

In this soft glow and half-light, the Prince of the Night seemed more apparent than ever, his features serene as he watched the sphere cough up little sapphire sparks and throw little flashes of lightning into the air. Cracked as it was, you were afraid it would break, but you believed in Viktor's confidence and the certainty of his work.

“You're not afraid of heights, are you?” Viktor asked, turning to you, the blue glint in his eyes shifty.

“What?” your eyebrows knitted together.

“Nothing,” his attention immediately returned to the stone.

He pressed a large button, and the coppery arcs began to rotate on themselves, accelerating as the gem seemed to wake up and scatter hairs of lightning in the air. 

The rhythm of the turns stabilised fairly quickly, the stone glistening and floating on itself tenderly without a cloud of particles resembling stardust enveloping it.

This magical behaviour was fascinating - magic was fascinating. A subject as taboo as magic used in technology and in an environment that had for so long observed it with disdain and ridicule led by fear, it was surprising. All the more surprising that Viktor and Jayce were the initiators. 

You could feel Viktor glancing at your peripheral vision as you watched the movements of the stone that seemed to be as much the heart as the body of this crude yet complex plot, its glow reflected on round plates pierced with runes.

“Wow,” you breathed into the silence, Viktor chuckling softly to the side and regaining your attention with this gesture.

“This might surprise you a little,” he remarked.

Under your confusion, which he did not clear up, he placed his long fingers to encircle the gears of the button he had previously activated. With a gentle push to the side, you gasped as the stone seemed to awaken as it rose.

The speed of the prototype stirred the air until Viktor's hair began to waltz in the wind.

Another rotation of the gears and the stone would continue to rise through the floors of this hut.

“Are you sure this is safe?” you asked, above the beating of your heart and the hissing of the stone mingling with the echo of the thin metal being tossed about in the wind. You felt as if everything could collapse at any moment.

He offered you a wry smile as he met your gaze, but said nothing. He'd probably done this many times before, and didn't have the same fears as you, but you were new to these risks. 

You just had to trust him. And that's what you did.

Another turn, and the plates lit up. The stone came to rest and a boom sounded as a column of light rose into the air and wreaths of blue light stretched above you. You covered your eyes, dazzled by the light, and the whole room seemed to want to pull every corner back towards the stone as if to compress the sheets of the world into a tight snowball.

And suddenly the tension exploded, and you could feel your feet separating from the floor.

When you opened your eyes, the room was bathed in a clear blue light, particles flying here and there in the air as if you'd dived headfirst into a star cloud.

But what surprised you most of all was the fact that you were floating.

You rose up into the room, no longer feeling the weight of your body on your heels or your knees, and you thanked yourself inwardly for not having worn a skirt today.

Your eyes found Viktor, who was also floating in the air not far from you.

You were relieved when he swam slightly through the air to join you, realising that with this change in gravity, his leg shouldn't be hurting. With all his weight lifted, he could just sway there in the air, remaining serene and carefree.

“Doesn't this feel safe?” he smiled, his hair floating like in water as he turned his face towards you.

You wondered, for a moment, if he'd ever come into this very room and activated the change in gravity so that he no longer felt any discomfort, letting himself be lulled into this stagnation. And you wondered about the times when, through pain, he had never been able to reach even his corridor and relieve himself of the weight of this sick body.

“It's…” you began, looking around you in wonder as tiny particles of light waltzed between your fingers, “beautiful.”

Higher up, in the air, a small irregular sphere floated like a bubble, sprinkled with a fine luminous veil of dust bringing its brightness to the whole room. Its pale core was irregular and reminded you of the very heart of the stone. The latter had not moved when you lowered your eyes towards the prototype, the stone floating above its base and sending a small trickle into the air, seeming to supply the sphere.

“This could change the world,” nodded Viktor, his eyes fixed on the sphere as if he were seeing it for the first time. “Commerce, travelling, progress in all fields…”

Alleviate the differences between Piltover and Zaun.

He didn't say it, but you could feel it, hanging on the end of his sentence heavily.

“And you made it.”

Viktor looked away from the sphere and back at you, seeming slightly surprised.

“Well,” he began to try and correct, “it was Jayce's original idea.”

“But he couldn't have done it without you.”

He frowned for a moment, perhaps slightly surprised by the praise you were heaping on him. But he deserved to hear it, after all.

“I suppose,” he finally said, as if it was no big deal.

This little sphere, barely bigger than your head, had the exceptional potential to transform the world you lived in for the better. That the inequalities of Zaun, which had too often been neglected by Piltover, could be meliorated, that the filth and pollution they poured into the air and water could be erased.

“You know,” he continued, clearing his throat, his eyes seeming to meet yours only with effort, “since there is a new masquerade to come, maybe we could... try something that I won't be able to provide there.”

It was a strange formulation, a suggestion that remained deeply unclear, and one that made you undeniably curious.

“Which is?”

His gaze met yours at last, breathing heavily. Was he really nervous? You didn't think you'd ever seen him like this, searching for words, avoiding your gaze...

He extended his hand towards you. “May I have this dance?”

Your lips parted in amazement, closing only seconds later as it seemed your tongue would fly out of your mouth in excitement.

A dance? With Viktor?

Everything raced through your mind, every thought bickering over what to do, what to say, how to react, how to digest this information that he wanted to dance with you?

“You may,” a tiny smile spread across your lips, and you thanked yourself for having waited a few seconds, without which your voice would have been far too loud and excited for the moment.

A smile appeared on his lips, slowly but surely spreading as his dark eyes watched you. You reached out for him, but you were too far apart without having to stir the air ridiculously to reach him.

You didn't even have to do that, as Viktor shifted his grip on his cane from the handle to the tip. Just as you thought he was holding it out for you to grab, he didn't aim it at your hand, but underneath it, continuing on its way until it hooked your back and pulled you towards him.

You stifled a small gasp of surprise as you were thrown against him, the movement pushing him back slightly as your hands landed on his chest.

It's funny, a heart. It's only made up of three layers of tissue, the epicardium, the myocardium and the endocardium, and yet it was always there to remind us that we could only experience this kind of moment through its activity when emotions were running high.

Your cheeks heated as you moved slightly away from Viktor, his cane still tucked into the small of your back, keeping you near him.

You were so close, your eyes inevitably meeting, and under their intensity, you couldn't help drifting your gaze, resting it on your hand pressed against his chest. 

You gave a nervous little laugh, glancing up at him from time to time, who didn't seem to be letting go of his constant observation. 

“I don't know how to dance,” you said after a long breath, giving you enough courage to face his gaze.

“Have we finally found something you're not great at?” he teased, your eyes rolling in amusement. “At least up here I'm sure you won't step on my foot.”

You couldn't help smiling and laughing slightly at his remark. He gave you an amused look back, the bluish light of that magic flooding the room and running through his eyes like a comet.

“First,” he said again as he released his grip on his cane and let it float away into the air before your eyes, “hand placement.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You know how to dance?”

He chuckled. “Not exactly,” his now free hand joined his twin to rest on yours, the length of his fingers engulfing yours. “For a while, Jayce was practising the waltz all the time. You wouldn't believe how much I learned about it just by watching him bang his head against the corners of the bed once the music took him away…”

You could easily imagine the scene. Jayce, hands clutching a pillow as a dance partner, muttering under his breath ‘one, two, three’ to mark his rhythm, occasionally punctuating the tune with a few wisps of conversation like ‘the champagne is quite divine’ or whatever nonsense he could think of.

“So,” he continued, “the cavalier's or rider's hands rest on the shoulder and in the hand of the leader.”

As he made his explanation, he guided one of your hands not far from where shoulder and neck met, the other he came to gently place in his own hand and pressing his thumb on the back of it as if to keep it in place.

“Oh, because you're the cavalier now?” you remarked, tilting your head to one side.

He mimicked your gesture, almost in mockery. “Which one of us knows more about dancing here.”

Well, he had a point, you had to admit.

“The cavalier's hands,” he continued, “holds the hand of his or her partner and places his or her second hand on their back.”

His hand gently came to rest on your waist, his warm palm sliding down your side to your back, and you hoped to the sky that your immediate goosebump-inducing shivers wouldn't be felt through your fabric.

Your cheeks flushed as memories of that night's dream came flooding back, the thought making you nervous and a little feverish. Your mind couldn't help but return ineluctably to the sensation of his lips against your ear, of his fingers pulling your zip down towards the small of your back...

You pulled yourself together, taking a long breath and hoping that it was truly impossible for anyone to read minds and that Viktor would never obtain this ability or use it against you.

“Does that feel okay?” he questioned.

For a moment, you were confused by the question, like it was supposed to be asked about an indiscreet subject of which you were unaware in the codes of dancing. But your mind linked these knots eventually – he was asking if his hand on your wounded back was uncomfortable.

“No, not at all,” you confirmed, shaking your head.

He nodded his. “Good, first-”

“Why are you teaching me all this?” you asked nervously.

He shrugged. “Might come handy for the masquerade.”

“You want to dance there?” You tried not to move your hand too much on his shoulder and hoped your palm wouldn't get clammy.

“It's not for me,” her eyebrows furrowed, “it's for you.”

“Who says I'll want to dance with anybody there?”

His eyes softened, as if tinged with disappointment. "We could stop."

"I don't want to stop," you replied a little too quickly, a slight panic betraying you in the wall of stoicism you had maintained for so long.

His eyes lowered for a moment to your hand, the one resting on his shoulder, and you noticed with astonishment that your grip on it had tightened. Your eyes fell in panic on the other hand clasping his, and just from the sensation you could feel that you had instinctively clung to him.

You wanted to tear your hand away from his shoulder and strangle yourself with it. You must have looked like a lunatic, your senses and reflexes taking over without you being able to do anything about it.

You pulled your hand away from his shoulder, pushing against his chest to distance yourself from him, but his hand on your back kept you close to him, preventing you from moving away.

Your eyes met his, as if out of distress. You had often, if not almost always, managed to find a way out of his presence. And now there was no escape.

You breathed slowly, trying to pull yourself together, but the proximity and the sensation of his hand on your back didn't particularly help your situation. Why did you have to stay so close?

You suddenly felt very conscious of everything about yourself. Was your breath okay? Were you going to sweat and would your sweat smell bad? What if your expression was completely stupid and in the next few seconds he finally decided to let you go?

"I thought you didn't want to dance with anyone here," he remarked, not letting you go at all.

You felt his thumb pressing gently on the back of your hand, like he had done during the Seven Minutes In Heaven. His finger made very slow circular motions on your skin, and if the gesture was meant to calm you down, it only partially worked to slow your heart rate.

"You're not just anyone," you emphasised.

His thumb softened and stopped, his hand static at the small of your back.

If you really wanted to keep your feelings from getting the better of you, you were going to have to do better than that, but if you did decide to fully embrace them, you were going to have to relax a little.

"But I don't mind practising," you finally suggested, clearing your throat. "Show me how you do it."

He seemed taken aback for a moment, then gave way to an air of satisfaction.

"Right," he continued, correctly replacing the position of his hand with yours. "First, for a waltz, you take a step to the side."

It was quite strange to lower your head to look at your feet and see them floating in mid-air as you attempted to press the tip of your shoe onto a non-existent surface, with Viktor following your movement.

"Very good," he commented when you managed to partially complete a step to the side, "now you have to bring your other foot close to the step you just took," he waited for you to move, "and as soon as you press it to the floor, the other one rises, and once it hits the ground, we start again on the other side, taking another step as we turn."

You tried to follow his steps, your eyes fixed on your feet and forgetting the distance between you and the floor. You laughed nervously, feeling utterly ridiculous with every movement, and the lack of solid ground didn't help matters.

But after a while, you gave up on the idea of waltzing, letting yourselves spin in the air like dancers in a music box.

You were close, and you felt caught up in the game of chic masquerade, returning to a point that had left you curious.

"I saw that you had the Tarot deck on your desk," you remarked, by way of conversation. "Any conclusive answer?"

He inhaled, his expression shifting from serenity to confusion. "I suppose I got my aura read this morning," he began, his eyes drifting elsewhere in the air. "It said someone close to me was starting to discover their..." He frowned further before his eyes returned to yours. "Desire, or something of the kind."

Your heart seemed to overflow from your ribs at the thought that, for some reason you couldn't understand, he had realised that you were that person. "Really?"

"Mhm," he confirmed, running his thumb over your knuckles as if to relax them, and you found yourself mortified once again at the thought of having gripped his skin a little too tightly. "The card was the page of wands," you felt his hand press a little harder into your back. I think it was something about wands representing Fire, of which Desire symbolically shares the qualities since it warms us, it's luminous and-’

"Are you sure the card wasn't meant for you?" you couldn't help asking.

His eyes narrowed briefly, and for a moment you wondered if he was going to challenge you on why you asked that question.

"I doubt it," he replied instead, raising his chin as his eyes looked down at you. "I know what I want."

Your whole chest was filled with warmth at a prospect that had just dawned on you, a hope you had long dismissed.

The possibility that Viktor felt the same way you did.

You refused to admit it or even imagine it, mostly because you didn't want to feel the pain of an emotional fall if you were just imagining things. You had said it yourself to Viktor a long time ago, after all, ‘I guess once you hit the ground really hard, you never really want to jump from that cliff again.’

"Why consult a Tarot if you know what you want?" you asked anyway, trying to convince yourself that maybe he had brought you here, just you and him, to show you the most important thing in his life that only a handful of people knew about, and to invite you to dance with him, just as friends.

"Because it's such an interesting thing, isn't it?" he smiled.

"Tell me about it," you sighed, pushing away the Knight of Pentacles, who was coming back to the charge, the Two of Cups, and the Emperor and Empress out of your mind.

"I never thought you would have been interested in this," he remarked.

"I never thought so either," you confirmed.

Silence fell between you again, and you felt as if every sound was amplified like never before. You felt his fingers digging into the small of your back again, pulling you closer to him.

Your eyes met his, and you realised how close you were, your gaze occasionally falling on his beauty spots.

"How far am I from truly knowing you, Miss?"

The nickname, which you had heard so many times before, made your heart skip a beat, and you hoped that Viktor wouldn't feel your pulse through the fingers he held in his hand.

"Closer than anyone has ever been," you replied, your voice reduced to a whisper.

His amber eyes never left you, the sensation of his two warm hands against your skin like suns kissing your skin.

"Truly."

Your eyes rested briefly on his lips. 

It seemed to you that you had never desired anything else in a single second, that the way he called you Miss being pressed onto the skin of your neck and laid in the shell of your ear by their graze would drive you mad, and that their brush onto your own would make yourself his.

But the realisation of the gesture struck you soon enough, bringing your eyes back to his.

Dark. That's how they looked.

Your heart raced as your noses were about to barely brushing each other.

The light in the room provided by the blue sphere began to flicker, your bodies slowly descending to the floor as your surprise pulled you out of the situation. You blinked rapidly as your feet touched the ground and you almost fell, your knees strangely weak as Viktor held you steady.

The stone descended into its plinth, and the room was once again illuminated only by its faint glow.

Your eyes fell on your two joined hands, and you extricated yourself from his embrace with a reluctant step back, your heart racing. His warmth, though now extinguished from contact, remained awake and lit beneath your skin.

He seemed to regain his senses in turn, clearing his throat as he looked at his cane on the floor.

"We are still trying to figure out a way to stabilise it," he explained as he took a small, difficult step towards it.

You beat him to it, bending down to pick it up and offering it to him, prompting him to whisper a quiet ‘thank you’ as his hand took hold of the pommel.

“Progress is only limited by time,” he remarked.

“And in a relatively short time, you have managed to do what no one else has ever done,” you confirmed.

He grabbed the remote control to open the shutters and pressed the button to raise the blinds. "I suppose so, in any case it allowed the council to congratulate us on our progress and our construction plans."

“Thus the masquerade?” you asked as the light came up in the room.

“Thus the masquerade," he confirmed.

“I see…” you managed to say.

You had to get yourself out of this situation, your heart pounding furiously in your chest as the electricity of what you thought had almost happened spread through your veins.

"Speaking of which," you continued, taking a step to the side, "I have to send Eris her invitation, and..." you scratched the back of your neck, "take my painkillers if I want to be able to come to class properly tomorrow.

"You didn't... I mean, I didn't...?" He made vague gestures with his free hand as his eyes dropped to your midsection.

"No!" came out a little too quickly and hastily from your mouth. "No," followed more calmly with a sigh.

He nodded. "Let me record the results of the experiment and we can get back," Viktor said as he walked towards the table where the prototype was waiting.

"I can get back on my own, don't worry," you hurried to counter.

He frowned, observing you. "Are you sure?"

"Mhm!" you nodded vigorously, perhaps a little too excited about it as you walked backwards towards the exit. "I'll see you in class tomorrow?"

He seemed confused by your behaviour, his eyebrows furrowed. "Sure you're okay?"

"Perfectly fine," you reassured him, pressing your lips tightly together, stopping the movement as soon as you had started it, remembering what could have happened. "I just need some rest."

He nodded slowly. "Alright then," he finally concluded, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes, exactly, see you tomorrow. I think I won't lose myself on the way back," you laughed nervously.

Stupid remark. It was the Academy, of course you wouldn't get lost.

Viktor looked at you with a deeply puzzled expression, not seeming to buy your lame explanations.

"See you tomorrow!" you repeated before slipping away and avoiding further questions from him.

Once out of the laboratory, you walked quickly towards the lift, your emotions rumbling in your heart like an engine fuelling thoughts you weren't proud of.

You had to get away from him as quickly as possible.

I need his face really near mine.

Now that you had gotten what you wanted, you were afraid of how much you had enjoyed being with him like that.

You pressed the lift button so hard that you were afraid you would break it and get stuck, leaning against one of the lift walls as the doors closed behind you.

You pressed both hands against your eyes, burying your face in them.

And to think that just a few moments ago, Viktor had touched them.

You're pathetic for clinging to the idea that he wants you, pull yourself together, you told yourself.

And yet, he had drawn you to him little by little.

And now he had seen the way your eyes had rested on his lips, and perhaps your shame was now exposed for all to see.

In any case, you felt that you were not ready to let this moment slip from your mind and sensed that it would return when the trumpets of insomnia began to sound again.

Your head fell back on the wall of the lift.

You and Viktor had been close to kissing.

✦﹒ 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

✦﹒ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 : @doctorho @6selkie @yunloyal @kryscent @hypocritic-trash-baby @kapitankarate @a-lovers-card @ababanerb @lolixsstuff @forget-me-not-my-dear @smolanchovy @shugar0cone0alt @harrys--ferret-blog @suuummerrr @stillinracooncity @dlbitch @cloufire @csolya @kathyholdsagrudge @furblrwurblr @potatointhedirt @atrocioushaircut @ren-ni @schrodingersraven @urmommt @enoojnij @stilinskisensation @emlovesya @soupsaurus @luvreadingfics @the-valars-sapphire @solbringer @adorabluesposts @pxszels @nerolovesseongjiyuk @cyberwears @cryptidcut @seohaepeachyun @danielsbackupglasses @2hiigh2cry @16novvs @cicadastoner @patchs-curiosity-corneriosity-corner @w41k3r-94290 @minniiv @roku907 @lumilarity @peachy-writings @disturbyn @ddandelionfluff @holymotherfxrkingshirtballs @notyuralycat @glenn-slayer @k07ume @hexb0nes @ravngers @fushirika @glenn-slayer @watergirl13girl @graveyardtrain @theuclid @catspook @mildly-discouraging-future @nataliea @frogbuggy

[psych0t1c-bread]

@howlsofbloodhounds here's the fanfic I promised! Sorry it took me so long lol (and sorry that it's so long in the first place. I meant for this to only be 5k but... judging by the fact that this ended up being 10k, that didn't quite happen, did it?)

@adler9944 because you wanted to read it as well!

Also, the first half of the chapter is a flashback that sets the tone for the story. You can skip it if you want, but I wouldn't suggest it.

I also posted this on Ao3. I hope you like it! Enjoy!

The Right Time and Place

(Cw: swearing, dissociation, self-deprication, mention of blood, PTSD nightmares/flashbacks, etc.)

5 months.

It had been 5 months since Color escaped the VOID. 5 months since Core found him, 5 months since he had been accepted into the Omega Timeline, 5 months since he began to get adjusted to life outside the VOID, and 3 months since he had been introduced to Delta.

Color had learned a lot from being with Delta, casually observing his friend's behaviors to mirror them. He still didn't quite know how to act now that he was out of the VOID. But life seemed a bit more normal now, much easier than it had been - much better.

He watched Delta's movements and attitude with utmost curiosity, unintentionally mirroring it all. He felt like he knew everything about his friend - his hand movements, his interests, where he worked, his attitude, his sarcasm and sass, his confidence, his knowledge.

Color felt like he knew everything about Delta.

It was about 10 pm as Color thought about this. His drifting, heavy eyes slowly began to close as he thought about it while drifting off into dream. And for once, his memory served him well - he remembered how they met almost perfectly...

[For the first two months, Color had stayed in the hospital while Core tried to find a suitable roommate for him, or at least one that would be willing to try.

Luckily, their newest tenant in the apartments a couple blocks from the hospital seemed up for the challenge.

When Core had first approached him with the idea of a roommate, Delta naturally asked who they were, why they were here. He was curious, but needed to make sure it'd be safe for him to room with this person.

Core couldn't tell him much - just that his supposed roommate had arrived two months ago, depressed and malnourished, from a dark VOID where he was held captive for around 20 years based on the doctor's observations.

They weren't able to tell him much more.

It took Delta all of 10 seconds to make his decision. Core offered him time, but before they could even finish their sentence, he had decided to accept this new person.

He asked if he could at least visit his new roommate in the hospital. Core explained that he was near catatonic, and wasn't used to people - but that the doctors would help his new roommate get adjusted by stopping by once a day. (Bit intrusive in Delta's opinion, but if all of what Core said was true, then it was incredibly necessary to have the doctors stop by.)

He gladly accepted.

Once Color had been discharged, Core took him to meet Delta if he was feeling well enough for it. And luckily, at that moment, he was.

Core led him to a peaceful park at dusk, not wanting Color to be overwhelmed by the sun and the busy lives of the people who lived here just yet.

After a short walk, they found Delta, who was sitting on a bench and patiently waiting to meet his roommate.

The two hit it off the bat immediately.

Well, Delta did, at least. At first, his bright orange eyes - a sign Color later learned that meant he was on guard, or that Beta was watching from inside - deeply intimidated Color, with their white dragon-like pupils unintentionally glaring down at him.

But once he saw Delta smile, and happily introduce himself and offer a handshake, Color couldn't help but relax. He was... charismatic, in his own special way.

Their clothes were covered in dirt and grime, having just been called after work. He barely had time to take his goggles and apron off before rushing to wherever Core needed him.

(Truthfully, they had been expecting a fight, but were nonetheless happy to meet someone new.)

And from what Color could hear, Delta had been taking up work at an engineering place of sorts - making new gadgets, weapons, safety items.

Needless to say, Delta's first introduction to Color wasn't him at his prettiest. (Not to say he'd look bad in his work clothes covered in dirt, though...)

Yet still, Color felt himself being drawn to them. Something about them - their voice, their appearance - made them enticing. And it didn't go unnoticed how the Bravery Soul inside of him felt suddenly at ease, watching the other still closely but much more relaxed. There was some sort of... attachment, on Delta that he could feel.

Something new. Something he hadn't experienced with any other Sans before.

It was overwhelming at first. Delta was very excited to meet someone new - he couldn't seem to stop talking, unable to stop asking all the questions that came to their mind as they lightly bounced on their feet. They had an almost childlike curiosity to them.

Core gently shut them down, being direct yet cautious. They knew Delta had no idea about Color's past, and was rightfully curious - a bit too curious, but innocent in his curiosities.

Unfortunately, Color did not take that well.

He was polite, at first. He was able to smile and force himself to keep calm. But the longer the noise carried on, the more questions Delta asked that he didn't want to answer, the brighter the lights around them seemed to get - it was all quickly too much.

But upon seeing the distressed and aggravated look in his new friend's eyes, Delta stopped. He froze momentarily, seeming deep in thought, silently wondering if he was being too much already.

To fix this, they whipped out their backpack, quickly unzipped the big pocket, and pulled out some headphones.

Without hesitating, he offered it to Color.

The other tried to deny his needs at first, not wanting to seem like a burden so early on - look at him, how selfish he is. Burdening a stranger on their first meeting. And he hasn't even made it back to the apartment yet, barely even spoken a word to this stranger! What if he was being rude? What if Delta didn't want to be his roommate anymore because of this? Was he going to be left alone again? Was it his fault? What if this was a trap? Was Delta tricking him to trap him and keep him here forever? What if he was? What if he wasn't? What if-

His breathing began to grow heavy as these thoughts filled his mind. The lights, the noise - it was all too much. The fire in their skull crackled, glowing brighter by the second as a sharp, violent pain overtook their skull.

Instinctively, Delta tried to gently touch Color's shoulder to get him to focus and take the headphones. They could see the pain in Color's grimace, and wanted to help.

Unfortunately, Color snapped.

He jumped back, almost screaming at Delta to get away, making the other flinch and take a quick step back.

Before he could even process what was going on, Color had sunk to his knees as he trembled, violently restraining his sobs as his thoughts and pain overtook him. He frantically tried to cover his broken skull with his hood, desperately trying to block out all the lights around.

Silently, after he overcame the shock, Delta quietly began to analyze him. The Bravery Soul inside him demanded an answer for the outburst, but Delta didn't have one - that was, until, he heard faint sobs from the other.

He came to the quick conclusion that Color wasn't mad at them. He was mad at the world - for reasons unknown to Delta, obviously. He had only been told bits and pieces of vital information when Core had first approached him about it - he always needed to know what he was getting himself into before deciding something major.

Core glanced almost nervously at Delta. They knew his demeanor quite well - and they knew that if such kindness was rejected so harshly, it could get an even harsher reaction out of the hot-head. His silence was a bit unnerving.

But instead of growing irritated or aggressive, Delta opted for comfort. As much as people may know him for his his brash attitude and doubt that much good can come out of it, he knows when the right time for a fight is - and now is not that time. He wasn't gonna just start fighting someone who so obviously needed help! (Maybe not his help specifically, but it didn't look like anyone else besides from Core was gonna be of much use, so why not do what he can?)

Needless to say, both were surprised when Delta gently and cautiously crouched down in front of Color - still keeping his distance - and quietly called out to him.

Color managed to force himself to peek up from his hood, to see Delta sitting down and smiling a bit sadly at him, empathy glistening in his eyes.

Delta began to sign to him, unsure if it would work or if Color even knew sign language, but he knew that he shouldn't speak more to aggravate the other further. He kept his body a bit closer to the ground, not wanting to make Color look up in the light any more than he had to.

Cautiously, Delta offered to take Color somewhere quieter and safer. He mentioned that there was a library they could go to, it had a sensory room with blackout curtains if he needed a nap, and a Cafe in case he needed a drink or caffeine.

Color froze at the options. What was all of this that he was speaking of? A Cafe? Library? He didn't remember those words anymore. Stars, he could have sworn he heard about them in his dreams.

Was this all a dream, then? Was any of this real? What if it wasn't? Was he trapped somewhere, was he dreaming again? Was this reality or not? How could he tell?

But after Delta had finished signing, Color realized that he had stopped shaking so much. He didn't feel much calmer, as he was still hyperventilating, but he was able to see Delta clearly enough to listen. He found himself breathing a tiny bit slower, his body slowly relaxing the longer Delta held eye contact - he couldn't look away.

Color managed to regain his voice after a moment. He hadn't experienced kindness from someone else in so long... it felt amazing. And yet, that feeling was quickly overtaken by terror and suspicion.

Tears rolled down his skull as he managed to choke out that he wanted to go home. But what was home? Was it the VOID? His AU? Where was it, what was it? Was it with anyone?

Delta and Core were both quite surprised, but upon seeing the despiration in Color's eyes, Delta decided to back off on taking his friend anywhere new.

Core softly spoke up, offering to take Color back to his new apartment. But Color shook his head, unsure of where that was - if it even existed.

After about an hour of trying to talk Color down, Delta had managed to bring him back to reality and get him to take some deep breaths. He handed Color his water, which the other immediately snatched and downed in one go.

Delta was surprised, but gladly let the other take it. And once Color had managed to ground himself and calm down, they slowly stood and offered a hand up. (In truth, with how sudden the panic attack happened, he wasn't quite sure if Color would be able to walk without help.)

Color flinched back, his shaky hands tensing at the sudden movement. But when he saw Delta was genuinely offering to help, he paused.

He hesitated, unsure if touch would send him back over the edge. But the pain in his legs made it feel impossible to get up on his own.

He didn't want to get hurt or tricked. But the kindness in Delta's bright orange eyes told him that he was safe.

For once in his life, something was telling him he was safe.

Slowly, he reached out a shaking hand.

Delta gladly took it.

His tight, strong grip was like no other Color had felt - not in a while, at least. Their hands felt strong and safe, comforting Color and silently telling him that not a single Soul would dare to harm him - not if Delta was around to help it.

The orange metal gauntlet was a surprisingly smooth, almost soothing texture. It was slightly cold, but warmer than Color was expecting - was it always like that, or did Delta just do that for him?

And as Delta pulled him up with ease, Color felt their body practically melt into his hand. It helped that Color couldn't feel his bones - the gauntlet covered his hand fully, blocking out any physical contact from under it. And the fact that it was smooth and not rough or jagged or cold like other metals was the icing on the cake.

Quickly pulling him to his feet, Delta held his hands out just in case Color stumbled or collapsed again. But once his new friend was stable, Core began to lead them to the apartment.

Color still doubted his surroundings. He yanked his hand away from Delta after a moment, but mumbled a quiet 'thank you'. Delta responded with a bright smile.

As they walked in silence, Color couldn't help but notice a protective energy around the group - as if something was watching over them, keeping them safe, protecting them.

He glanced over at Delta.

He figured out where the energy was coming from.

If anyone dared to look in their direction as they made their way to the apartment, they were met with a fiercely protective glare from Delta - a silent promise of hurt if they dared approach with ill intentions. Their hands were kept firmly at their sides as they surveyed the surroundings, keeping track of every alleyway, every person, what they looked like.

Color felt safe. He didn't know why or how, or if it was a trick. But he felt his body relax slowly as they continued walking.

And after a 10 minute walk, they arrived at the apartment.

As Delta carefully held his keys as still as possible so they wouldn't jingle too much, he slowly cracked open the white door, and entered in.

It was fairly clean, though evident that Delta had been living there - he hadn't expected to have company so soon, but had a short warning beforehand (three days) so he could at least clean up the place. Everything was swept and dusted, but his work clothes and apron had been carelessly tosses into a pile near his bedroom door.

The dark, dull beige walls of the apartment greeted their eyes first. The light brown couch was lovingly worn down from Delta alone, with the TV remote resting on the class coffee table in front of it.

The TV stand was nothing fancy, either - not that Delta cared, anyhow. It was tidy with a few movie boxes and a DVD player on it, on the small shelf below the TV itself. The TV was a decent size, nothing huge but definetly big enough for multiple people to enjoy.

The big light above them had been left on, but Delta quickly shut it off as to not overwhelm Color. He silently slipped his shoes off before fully entering to reach for the lightswitch, walking on the cold wooden floors.

Looking a bit to his left, Color could see the open entrance to what Delta described as the kitchen. He could faintly see what looked like chairs and possibly a table.

To his right, he saw a hallway. Delta explained that it led to the bathroom and bedrooms, though Color couldn't quite remember what that meant.

Color remained frozen in the doorway. He saw dozens of items he had a vague memory of, but didn't know the names.

Delta silently awaited a reaction, wanting to ensure Color didn't get overwhelmed. Though, to him, there wasn't much to get overwhelmed about. But judging by Color's earlier reactions, he wasn't quite sure if it would be the same.

Softly, Color asked what the new items were.

Delta was quite surprised by that. But, he cautiously described each and every one, giving Color breaks when he saw his face twist in confusion.

Eventually, Color managed to walk into the house. He took a close look around at the bleak walls, into the kitchen and down the hall. There were so many new things - but all he cared about right now was sleep.

Before he got fully settled, however, Delta offered both him and Core lunch. He wouldn't be able to cook much (the oven was most likely still broken from the last time he attempted to use it), but he could at least feed them a snack or something.

Color's demeanor suddenly sparked up at the mention of food. And upon seeing the sudden shift in attitude, Delta took it as a yes and immediately headed to the kitchen to make them some sandwiches.

To his surprise, Color followed.

The creaks in the floorboards startled him at first, along with Delta's silent footsteps - why couldn't he hear them? Were they really there?

Delta glanced back, to see Color looking confused and uncomfortable. He was about to ask what was up, when Color softly spoke out and asked why he was so quiet.

Delta was surprised, but apologized and explained that he didn't want to overwhelm him. He made sure to walk a little louder. He could see the distant look behind Color's blank eyes.

But he noticed something else - Beta had pointed it out - that concerned him. Color was fidgeting with his hands, pacing in circles around the kitchen on his small square, keeping his eyes on Delta's hands the entire time.

Color nervously glanced at the food. He barely remembered what it was like to eat something - he didn't remember what the name or ingredients of what Delta was making, but made sure that the other wasn't adding any pills or something strange.

Color still wasn't sure if he was safe. Could Delta be trusted? What if this is a trap? Are they going to poison him? Would Core allow that? What if they're the one who suggested it?

Upon seeing Color work themselves up again into another panic, Delta quietly offered for him to come help, if he wanted. He didn't want to make his roommate uncomfortable, but it was clear neither of them knew quite what to do.

Color was startled out of his thoughts, quickly looking up to Delta as he froze in place again. He could barely think, but after a few minutes of debate, he decided to learn about whatever Delta was doing.

As he cautiously approached, Delta made sure Color could see all the ingredient lists and what he was using, how he was using it and where it belonged in his organized mess of a kitchen.

Color had no idea what to do with any of the items, or what they were. And despite not knowing if Delta would tell the truth or not, he decided to ask.

Delta was visibly surprised by this, but made space for Color on the counter and patiently explained the process of making a sandwich, including all the ingredients. They weren't sure if it would be too much for Color to handle, but tried to help anyways.

Color was quick to learn. When he wanted to taste the items first before he put it on his sandwich, Delta didn't stop him. He made sure to separate his sandwich from Color's for sanitary reasons, though.

As they observed from their seat on the windowsill, Core couldn't help but smile. They knew they had made the right choice to pair these two together in spite of their differences.

After the boys had finished making the sandwiches, Delta let them sit anywhere in the apartment as he gave Core their sandwich.

To their surprise, Color scarfed his sandwich down in mere seconds. Delta was worried he'd choke, but somehow he didn't.

After making sure Color wasn't sick from eating so fast, Delta offered to make him another sandwich. Color frantically agreed.

As Delta got up to make him another sandwich, Color stood and asked if he could do it. He truly meant no offense, but he just didn't trust Delta enough to let him make the food.

Core smiled. And, as to not startle Color, they announced their leave.

The two bid Core their goodbyes, and Core left silently as Delta continued to teach Color how to make a sandwich.

And despite Color's clear distrust and fear, the two had been inseparable ever since.

Of course, their relationship has had its ups and downs over the few months they had known each other.

It was certainly an experience for Delta when he first found Color on the kitchen floor, sleeping peacefully with the lights dimly lit up.

Delta, having thought the poor guy was fully unconscious, immediately tried to wake him up while frantically calling the doctors in charge of Color's care at two in the morning.

Color woke up quickly, startled and hostile, kicking and screaming in shock. Delta had jumped back, but breathed a sigh of relief - and hung up after telling the doctors that Color was alive.

That night turned into a long conversation, which led to them helping Color get situated in his new room with the offer of full control over it. The doctors came by to check on them about 15 minutes later, but once they judged that Color was safe, they left.

Another late night memory that Color happily reminisced on was a comforting reminder that he was no longer alone - Delta had caught him playing chess by himself at 1 am, muttering his moves to himself.

Delta, who was somehow both the lightest and deepest sleeper that Color had ever known (even though they were his only friend), was awoken by mutterings coming from the couch.

And upon investigating, visibly concerned of what he would find, he was relieved to see Color.

Delta had asked what he was doing, making Color flinch at the interruption. But when he explained, Delta, in his half-asleep state, managed to say that he didn't have to play alone anymore because Color had him now.

Against his better judgement, he offered to play with him. Color thought for a moment, but accepted.

They both managed to fall asleep as they played chess, waking up on the couch as the warm beam of sunlight gently awoke them from their peaceful slumber.

And it was definitely fun to remember how he had met Beta for the first time - the day he realized that he wasn't alone in having a human Soul with him.

They had walked in on Delta and a glowing orange outline of a body softly talking early in the morning - it sounded like they were talking about some kind of dream. By the tone, Color could tell the spirit sounded nervous as Delta made him some kind of drink that Color didn't recognize.

When he called out to them, the two flinched and swiveled around - but upon seeing him, relaxed.

Color remembered asking who the figure was.

The two looked startled, glancing at each other, before the spirit turned back to Color with the biggest grin he had ever seen.

Excitedly, the kid introduced himself as Beta, explaining who he was and why. He was thrilled that Color could see him - he thought no one other than Delta could! He was so excited!

Delta tried to calm his kid down, not wanting him to overwhelm Color. But for the first time, Color felt something stirring inside of him as the spirits in his head managed to force him to say hi.

A few who were more powerful were able to make themselves into spirits to say hello. Beta was practically jumping up and down when he saw that.

That was probably his favorite 3 am experience with Delta.

He remembered his first panic attack in the house, when Delta had gone out to buy groceries early before work as to not wake up Color. He remembered frantically calling Delta, in tears when the other picked up.

Within seconds, Delta had managed to steal the cart with the groceries still in it, slap a $50 on the counter for the cashier, and teleport home - where he literally slipped on the floor and dragged the cart down with him on total accident.

Yet still, once they managed to get up somehow unharmed, they left the groceries on the ground so they could run to help Color.

He remembered when an ignorant Monster had decided to challenge Color's flames, mocking his body. He remembered the shame and humiliation - and how it quickly turned to utter shock when he saw Delta clock him in the jaw, breaking it almost instantly and knocking the man out.

Color remembered the way Delta had grabbed his hand, quickly pulling him up from his seat in the Cafe and began to run. They ran all the way back to their apartment practically at the speed of light, and when they got in and locked the door, they took a moment to breathe.

They looked at each other, still in mild shock that that had just happened. But then they immediately burst into laughter, in awe that no one had stopped them or caught them yet.

(They got caught later that week cause the guy who got his ass beat saw Delta visiting Color in the hospital during one of his more frequent checkups. He bitched to Core about it and Delta got a earful from the kid. Color couldn't stop laughing.)

He remembered one of the many times when the sheer emptiness of the walls had trapped his mind into thinking he was back in the VOID - alone, cold, and scared.

Thankfully, Delta was home at the moment. He rushed to help as usual, bringing Color back to reality.

And for the first time, Color began to speak.

He spoke about the VOID. The darkness. The same dull scenery, a memory long forgotten and yet forcefully re-experienced every single day.

That was when Delta decided to paint the walls.

He let Color help, of course. He allowed Color to pick out the paint, while he went to find the paint brushes - they remained in each other's sight the whole time, not daring to stray too far.

Color ended up picking out a blue-teal color, and once they had gotten home, they began to rearrange the furniture momentarily so they could protect the floor and such.

It took about three days to paint, which was a bit longer than either had planned. But in those three days, they had begun to talk, both sharing their respective stories about how they had gotten here.

Delta was much more open about it than Color was. But Color, being intuitive as ever, noticed that Delta never went into specific details - he only managed to say that things happened, and instead preferred to go on about his adventures fighting bad guys in the multiverse.

Color asked, once. Out of curiosity. He had asked why Delta had chosen to do that of all things.

Delta managed a quick response. It was witty, Color gave him that, but based on the guilt and hidden shame in their eyes, he knew it wasn't the full truth.

He asked if something had happened to make him not want to talk about it.

Delta dodged the question by changing the subject.

They didn't bring it up again.

He remembered the first time he had recieved a hug from Delta. It was during a panic attack, where Color was doubting his reality and everyone around him, desperately reaching out for anything to keep ahold of.

Delta could see the despiration in his eyes. The desperation to be loved, seen, wanted, remembered. He saw it. Without much thinking, they held him, drawing him close in one swift movement.

It was magical. Color truly had no idea what he had been missing until he had it - but he wasn't ready to let it go missing again.

He remembered collapsing into Delta's arms, sobbing into his chest as he desperately clung to him while Delta coaxed him down gently.

After about two hours of calming him down, Delta was allowed to make the mistake of attempting to let go. Color refused.

Luckily, Delta learned quickly, and did not attempt to let go until Color was ready. Color stayed attached to his hip for the rest of the day, terrified that if he let go, it would never return.

And during some of their late night talks, sometimes Delta would say that he couldn't remember a time where he didn't know Color. Days all blended together - unless something particularly exciting happened that set it apart from the other days.

Color wished he could say the same.

But in these months, these three fresh months, never had he felt so exhilarated and overwhelmed at the same time.

Every moment with Delta was precious. Delta had even managed to score Color a job at the same place so that he'd feel less alone - and would be able to adjust better.

Delta had always been the stronger one of of the two of them - from how he carried himself, to the way he'd threaten violence at any given second if someone so much as dared to breathe incorrectly in Color's direction. It was clear he was capable of great violence. Especially with how much he bragged about his fights in the past.

Color had never been more grateful to find a friend who was willing to tolerate his codependency. And Delta happily entertained it - they would never dare to admit it, but they were incredibly lonely.

And Color had learned how to carry himself, too - how to carry himself with utmost confidence, ensuring no one would dare to doubt him (except himself). He learned how to get away with most things, lying flawlessly without guilt if it was necessary. He learned that it was okay to ask for help when he needed to, when he wanted to. He learned how to love himself, even if it was just a little bit.

He learned how to interact with his Souls and Beta, and how to accept them as his reality. He learned how to be reckless and how to fight, but to also calculate and plan out moves and escapes when necessary. He learned that although life wasn't kind or safe all of the time, he had the power to make it a little kinder and a little safer - if not for himself, then for others.

He learned that for once, he had power and control over himself and his surroundings. He learned to apologize for mistakes and move on instead of deflecting them, and that it was okay to be angry and process the trauma that had been caused to him.

He had learned so much in these three months with them.

He remembered how he had doubted Delta at first, as he watched silently, analyzing every move and what it meant. Delta carried himself with nothing less than reckless confidence, so much so that no one dared to doubt him - even when he was blatantly wrong about something.

But when Delta showed him the kindness of acceptance, he doubted him a bit less each time. It didn't take too long for Color to feel comfortable enough to trust him with important things - buying and making the food, getting water, keeping them entertained and safe. Such simple things to Delta were the most important things to Color.

Yes, these memories and experiences were the core of their relationship - his favorites by far. But these dreamy memories of his were cut short by a sudden loud clang, triggering a harsh memory of when Delta had awoken to Color screaming after he accidentally hurt himself while making a late night snack.

The blood gushed out of his palm as the knife clattered to the ground, as Color frantically began to hyperventilate at the sight of his own blood.

Delta sprinted out of his room, running straight at Color as he managed to dial for help at the same time. How his hands were so steady as he sprinted at full force, Color still couldn't figure out.

He dragged Color to the bathroom, immediately beginning to hold it above Color's Soul to help stop the bloodflow as Delta got a tourniquet above the wound, on his wrist. He quietly reassured Color that the ambulance was on its way. His hands lit up in a soothing green glow, as they gently held his palm close.

He remembered the pure fear in Delta's eyes as he forcefully woke himself up, trying to hide it as they comforted Color. They whispered kind words of reassurance, holding him close as they let him cry on their shoulder.

He remembered when he was half asleep in the hospital bed, that Delta was sobbing as quietly as he could. Color couldn't hear it - but when he tried to roll his head over to look at Delta, he saw the other keeping their head down, shaking lightly as they breathed deeply, trying to hold it all in.

That was the first, and only, time that he had ever seen Delta get so scared that he cried. And it killed him to know that it was his fault his friend was crying.

In the morning, when Color woke up, Delta had clearly been awake. He wasn't sure if they had slept at all. They did not talk about the tears of last night, rather opting to check in on Color and his wound.

They did not bring it up again. And Color vowed to never make that kind of mistake again.]

Color jolted awake, with a short gasp for air as the loud, shattering clang echoed through the apartment.

His mind raced as he tried to figure out if he was still dreaming or not. He rushed to check his palm, only to see the wound closed up and scarred.

A thud followed.

His heart skipped a beat, as his body began to move without thinking. Within seconds, Color had ran from his bed to the kitchen...

... to find Delta collapsed on the ground, a pile of broken glass surrounding him.

His eyes were blank, a dull shade of the usual bright orange that greeted Color when he woke up. His expression held nothing of its normal composure, as his body slumped towards the ground on his knees.

Color froze, his eyes widening as he felt his Soul drop into his nonexistent stomach.

What the fuck?

What just happened?!

"Delta...?" His voice trembled as he spoke softly. He didn't want to startle the other.

No response.

[Is he sleep walking again? How did this even happen?] Color thought, slowly moving closer. He examined his roommate, checking for any external injuries, but there were none.

So, cautiously, Color reached out to lightly shake Delta's shoulder.

Still, no response.

Color's breathing began to get shaky as his mind raced with terrifying possibilities as to why they could be acting like this. Did something happen? Are they hurt? Were they dying? Did they need to go to the hospital? Was it even really them?

Delta wasn't even blinking. And with his hand now hesitantly resting on their shoulder, Color couldn't feel them breathing, either.

Color flinched when he realized that there was not a single movement from Delta. No flinching, no startle, not even breathing. Nothing.

He shook his roommate a little more aggressively, his breath catching in his throat as he desperately called out for him, "Delta?! Hey, come on, wake up!"

The harder Color shook him, the closer he got to getting Delta to snap out of it, even if it was just a little.

Finally, Color got desperate enough to smack him on the shoulder as hard as he felt comfortable.

As the hit landed, Delta's hand shot up and grabbed Color by the wrist, making the other flinch and gasp lightly in shock.

Delta's empty stare turned to Color, making him shiver.

He spoke softly, calling out to him, "Delta?"

Delta still gave no response. Didn't even blink. But after a minute, he slowly released Color's wrist from his grip. His hand dropped back down, hanging limply at his side.

Color was startled at how motionless it was. There was such little weight to his grip - nothing at all like he was used to. As his voice still shook, he called out again, "Delta?... can you hear me? Are you- can you answer me, please?"

He pleaded.

Luckily, he got a blink this time.

Color felt a bit relieved, at least knowing that Delta was awake now. But still, he awaited some kind of response, anything at all.

Their blank, empty stare was unnerving. There was absolutely nothing behind their eyes - just like the rest of their expression.

They tried to speak. Nothing came out.

Color's eyes widened in horror. "Delta?! Hey, hey, what's wrong? Is- is something wrong? Are you hurt? Why can't you speak? Did you-"

"I'm fine." An empty, desolate voice muttered in response.

Color flinched back, ripping his hand off of Delta's shoulder.

No. This wasn't him. This- this can't be him, right? It barely even sounds like him!

No, it can't possibly be. His eyes are too dull, voice too bleak. He wasn't even wearing his usual clothes, Color noticed. He was wearing a tank top, no gauntlets on, and black shorts and socks.

He had seen Delta sleep in those clothes before, but now it just looked wrong. Like it wasn't really them.

Was he having another nightmare?

Was this real?

There's no way this was Delta. There's just no way! There was no spark, no energy, no emotion, nothing! It was honestly creeping him out.

Seeing his brightest - and only - friend so lifeless just... wasn't right.

The Souls inside his head spoke softly, discussing what they should do to snap Delta out of it, if there was even anything they could do about it. Color listened to the options, but they all eventually agreed to try to talk to Beta first - see if he knew what was going on.

"Beta? Kiddo, you there?" Color called out, eyeing the time. It was around 3 in the morning. Surely the kid would be asleep, but maybe he could wake him up.

No response. But upon hearing his name get called out, Delta's eyes seemed to glaze over even more as their orange color slowly drained into white.

His eyes went wide as he helplessly watched all the color dissappear from their eyes.

"... okay. So that didn't work. Let's just... take him out of the glass." Color muttered to himself, slowly moving closer to Delta again.

Cautiously stopping outside of the ring of glass, Color reached down and grabbed Delta by the arms. Then, he slowly pulled him up, and dragged him out of the glass. He managed to lift them high enough to get him safely out of the ring.

Delta's body practically collapsed into Color, startling the other entirely. His whole body was just limp in Color's arms.

What was going on with them?

After adjusting the other, Color picked him up fully, and carried him over to the couch.

He gently lowered Delta onto the couch, having him lay down on his side in case anything happened. He sat on the ground in front of them.

There was a long moment of silence, before Delta spoke again.

"Are you here?" They murmured, staring emptily at the wall.

Color was surprised, but quickly nodded, "Yeah, I'm here, Del. I'm right here. Can you talk? What's going on?"

Delta tried to speak again, but nothing came out. So, slowly, they forced their arms to move up and began to sign.

'I'm sorry.'

Color was taken aback.

"... sorry for what?" He asked softly, moving a bit closer.

'I messed up. I failed.'

"What do you mean?"

'I hurt them. I couldn't save them.'

"Who couldn't you save?"

'You know.'

Color paused. Who was Delta talking about? Did they even know it was him?

"Do you know it's me, Delta?"

Delta paused for a moment. In truth, they really didn't know. But they felt the Bravery Soul nearby, and assumed it was Beta. 'Yes.'

Color breathed a sigh of relief. "Alright. But, who are you talking about?"

'Frisk.'

Color froze.

"... what do you mean? How did you fail them?" He murmured, looking over Delta's body language. But there was nothing to look at.

'They died. You know that. Don't make me say it, please.'

"Did you... have a dream about them?" Color asked, desperately trying to figure out what was going on. Why this sudden memory? And why now, of all times?

'Yeah. Was hurt again.'

"I'm sorry to hear that."

'Nothing we can do about it.'

"Do you... wanna talk about it?"

'I failed them. I couldn't save them. I killed them. It's all my fault.'

There was a long pause in their conversation. Hesitantly, Color asked, "... is something else bothering you?"

'I can't do it anymore.'

Color froze, his eyes slowly widening in terror as his Soul skipped a beat. "Wh-what do you mean by that?"

'He's hurting and I can't make it better. I'm failing him.'

The air around them held still as Color silently stared into Delta's dull eyes.

"... what?" He shakily reached to cover his mouth, absolutely horrified.

'I wanna help him so bad. But there's nothing I can do. I can't do anything right.'

"Hold on-"

'He hurts cause I can't make it any better. It's all my fault. I don't wanna fail him like the others, but I guess I'm not much good at protecting, either.'

"Delta."

'What do I have if I can't help him? Nothing. Got nothing. He got taken here so someone could help, and I can't even do that right.'

"Delta!" Color desperately tried to shake him awake, as tears pricked his eyes. What was going on? Did they really feel this way?

'It's all my fault. He's hurting and it's all my fault. Maybe they should put him with someone better. He deserves better than me.'

"Delta, listen to me-"

'First I hurt Frisk, and then Paps, and now I hurt him. Why can't I do anything right? Why can't I do what I'm supposed to? I wanna help but I keep hurting people. I'm so stupid.'

"Hey!-"

'I'm worthless if I can't help him. I have no use. They only like me when I can be useful, and I can't even do that right now. I'm such a burden. What is wrong with me?-'

"STOP!"

Delta stopped, as Color's chest heaved, breathing shakily as tears dripped down his skull.

It killed him to see how much pain Delta was in. He was heartbroken. Why hadn't they told him about this? Did they really feel like this all the time? No wonder they were so stressed out, the poor guy!

But seeing the still blank look in their eyes, Color knew he had to help.

He took a deep breath, wiping his eyes as he restrained his sobs. He couldn't cry. Not now. Not while his best friend needed him.

Once Color had calmed down quite a bit, he gently cupped Delta's face, holding it in his warm hands.

As small tears still leaked from Color's eyes, he spoke, voice trembling, "Delta, I need you to listen to me, please." He pleaded softly.

Delta nodded, 'Okay.'

Color took a deep breath as he spoke, "Delta, I don't know why you think these things or if anyone made you think them, but you are not a failure. You are not a burden, not to me or anyone else.

I don't know much about you. What you've been through, what you're going through, I don't know. You've done a really good job at hiding that. You let me know what you want me to know. I can't blame you for that - I do that, too.

But I don't want you suffering in silence. I may not be the best with emotions, and I might not be the best guy to hang around sometimes, but I care about you.

I'm sorry if I ever made you feel this way. But listen to me now - I don't think that you're a failure. I don't think you're a burden, or at fault for any of the things you've been through. Okay?"

Slowly, the color began to return to Delta's eyes. But still, he signed, 'I'm sorry. I'm weak.'

"No, you're not." Color insisted sternly, gently stroking the side of Delta's skull with his thumb, "You're not weak. You're not any of the horrible things you claim you are.

You're not weak. You're not a burden. You're certainly not a failure. And you're most definetly not stupid."

There was another pause, as Color calmed himself. And gently, still cupping Delta's face with his right hand, he trailed the other to Delta's hand, which had slowly dropped back down when they had finished speaking.

Delta managed to speak. "Why?" They whispered.

Color's eyes saddened. "Well, if you really don't know... then let me tell you.

Listen, I know we've only known each other for a couple months, but... you've helped me more than anyone else ever has. You've put up with me when no one else wanted to - when even I didn't want to. But you stuck by my side, didn't leave me alone, even when I annoyed you.

You protected me. Remember when that guy at the Cafe harassed me? You punched the shit out of him and then brought me home. You didn't let him hurt me, even though you didn't know anything about me at that point.

And the nightmares? You stayed with me. You woke me up when we stayed together in your room, even let me sleep in your bed while you slept on the floor when I was too scared to be touched. And even when I woke you up screaming, you held me, calmed me down. And you never got mad! You never yelled at me, even when you had work in the morning.

And at work, whenever I was able to show up, you always protected me, made excuses for me when I couldn't show up. You always kept me safe, even when you weren't around. They knew they couldn't hurt me because you'd hurt them back, even if you got in trouble for it.

You've helped me more than you even know. You taught me how to live again - literally! I didn't even know how to eat when I first got here, but you were patient enough to teach me how to use the utensils. You even helped me wash up when I physically couldn't do it myself.

You always got me to my doctor appointments, even leaving work early to drive me there. You put up with me even when I didn't want to go, and when I exploded because I was so scared of them. And you always made sure to call the doctors when I needed help and couldn't call anyone for myself, even when I got mad at you for it.

Even when I was tired and depressed, you took care of me. You made sure I ate and bathed at the very least, even if you couldn't drag me out of the house. You did everything that you could to help me, and succeeded. No one had ever done that for me before. You were the first.

You stuck by my side, even when I got sick and got you sick in return. I didn't mean to, I still feel kinda bad about it. But you never made me feel like a burden, or like it was a mistake that you got paired with me. You've always been so good to me.

You never made me feel like an asshole, even when I acted like it. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like this, but... you've saved me more times than I can even count.

Like that time when I was too paranoid to let anyone in the house, including you. You were patient with me and talked me down from the other side, even though I was having a panic attack because I was alone. You stayed with me until I was calm enough to use logic and let you in. And even still, you weren't mad at me! I honestly don't know how you put up with me sometimes.

And remember when I cut myself on accident that one night? You woke up and were literally at my side in seconds. And you called for help while calming me down, trying to keep me from passing out. You certainly weren't useless then, so why would you be now?

I know we didn't talk about it again after that night, but... I saw you crying when I woke up. I didn't even notice it at first - you were so quiet about it. But I saw it. And I'm sorry that I didn't say this before, but you're not weak for crying.

I'm not... even sure if that's what you're thinking right now. But in case you are, I really don't think you're weak for crying.

You never made me feel weak for crying. So why make yourself feel that way? You don't deserve that hate, even if it's coming from yourself.

I know I don't say it a lot, but I really care about you. Even when I'm scared or angry or overwhelmed with the world, you're the only good part of it. You've practically kept me sane! You've helped me in more ways than I can even count. And I certainly wouldn't call that failure, now, would I?" He smiled.

The longer Color spoke for, the more the orange spark return to Delta's eyes. And by the time he finished, Delta had come back into reality fully - having no clue what was going on or why, but appreciated being woken up from whatever had happened with fond memories and kind words.

Color smiled softly at them. "Hey, buddy. Glad you're back."

Delta nodded, propping himself up with the arm that Color wasn't holding. However, he gladly let Color's hand stay on his face, and lightly nuzzled into it, still confused, "Uh, hey... what happened? How'd I get here?" He asked softly, glancing around.

"I honestly have no idea. I heard glass breaking and saw you in the kitchen, but you weren't answering me - totally out of it. So I got you away from the glass and brought you over here. You didn't look hurt, but... you started talking, and-"

"Wait, wait, lemme stop you there. What do you mean I was in the kitchen?" Delta asked, his eyes going slightly wide as he realized that there was no lying out of this situation. He was going to have to tell Color about the episodes.

He sat up fully, making Color back up a bit and take his hand off of Delta's face. However, when he tried to let go of Delta's hand, he instead tightened his grip slightly - he didn't want to let go yet.

Color gladly obliged.

"Well, I got woken up by the glass, and saw you in the kitchen. You were on the ground and the glass was all around you. Don't know how you got there, though - your guess is as good as mine." He answered.

Delta nodded along, turning to look back into the kitchen. And sure enough, the ring of glass was still there, not yet cleaned up.

"... huh. That's really weird." They muttered.

Color couldn't help but snicker at that.  "You're telling me, man." He replied.

Delta turned back, his brain still processing all of this, "You said I woke you up? Shit, I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to."

"Hey, no, don't worry about it. Whatever happened, didn't look like you had much control over." Color replied, smiling reassuringly. "Do you remember anything?"

"Uhh, sorta. I remember I was laying in bed, then-" a look of realization dawned on their face. "... oh."

Color tilted his head. "What?"

"... um. Okay. I got something to explain." They muttered, sighing.

Color was even more confused. He motioned for Delta to go on, and he did. "So, I had a nightmare last night. And, sometimes, when I have nightmares, I tend to... dissociate."

"Dissociate?" Color repeated. The hell did that mean? Delta hadn't taught him that word yet.

"Yeah. Um, I lose grip on reality, I'd have no clue what's going on whatsoever. That brings me to a question, though. Did I say anything weird?" Delta looked nervous even asking it.

Color thought for a moment. Would he classify those things as 'weird'? I mean, they were definetly abnormal, so maybe that's what they mean.

He nodded. "I mean, for you, kinda. I've never heard you speak that way before."

Their Soul sunk. Oh fuck. What did they say?

"Oh, that's great." He muttered sarcastically.

Unfortunately, Color didn't quite understand sarcasm yet. He quickly replied, "Not really. It was kinda scary - you started going on about a lot of things, things I didn't even know you were thinking about. Do you want me to repeat it?-"

"No."

The sudden venom in their voice was startling enough to make Color stop. He quietly examined his friend. Had he said something wrong? Were they angry at him for talking too much? Why were they upset?

But when he looked at them, instead of anger, Color saw hurt. Their face was twisted in a deep sadness, clearly having not expected things to go down like this.

They didn't talk for a good few minutes, until Delta spoke up first.

"You weren't meant to know." He muttered, staring at the ground in shame.

Color tried to say something, but Delta continued on, "I didn't tell you because I didn't want to be weak. Not when you needed someone to help you. It'd be unfair of me to burden you after you just got out of basically solitary confinement for 20 years of your life.

And after everything I've seen you go through, fuck, you've been hurting so much. And it's not your fault at all - I ain't saying that I'm uncomfortable around you or anything like that, just... didn't think I'd need to tell you so soon. I'm sorry."

Color stared up at him for a long moment, before asking, "Do you think I'm weak for needing help, Delta?"

Delta tensed, instinctively looking up with pure worry in his eyes, "What?! No, not at all!"

But before he could say anything else, Color replied in an even tone, "Then why do you think that you're weak for needing help?"

Silence.

Delta stared at him, his eyes wide as he tried to figure out if Color was joking or not - if they had said something to upset him. But when they saw the empathy in his eyes, they realized what it really meant.

"... I guess I didn't... really think of it that way." They sheepishly admitted, glancing away from him.

Color couldn't help but smile, as he moved closer. He sat on the couch, and Delta gladly made room for him. Instinctively, like Delta had done many times for him, Color slinked an arm around his shoulder and held him close.

Delta tensed at first, but eventually relaxed into Color's arms.

"That's alright. I'm not mad, obviously. Can't really get upset at you for hiding things when I haven't exactly been the most vulnerable," Color said, making them both chuckle lightly.

"But, still. If you have these problems, I wanna help. It's not fair if you only help me and I don't help you back. So let me help. Okay?" Color asked softly, smiling at him.

Delta was surprised. He wasn't used to being able to let his guard down - he never knew when it was safe to relax without worrying about someone catching him and picking a fight when he was vulnerable.

Vulnerability was not a concept he was comfortable with yet.

But as he looked deep into Color's eyes, he knew that he was safe - he didn't know why, but... something inside him was telling him that he was safe to let his guard down.

He relaxed, nodding slowly as a smile crept up on his face.  "Okay."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"Alright. You, uh, wanna talk about it?" Color offered, still concerned.

Delta thought for a moment, but shook his head. He really didn't. He didn't want to think about it anymore.

Color nodded, "That's okay. I definetly can't blame you for that. But, if you do, let me know - I'm here to listen, alright?" He asked, gently rubbing Delta's shoulder.

Delta nodded. "I will. Thank you."

"It's no problem. Think you can go back to sleep, or do you wanna stay up? We can watch a movie, or play a game - go on a walk, if you want." Color offered, knowing that Delta would probably need different options if he wanted a distraction.

Delta thought for a long moment, quietly speaking to Beta about what to do. They settled on a movie.

"I don't think I'm ready to go back to sleep. Could we watch something?" They asked quietly.

Color nodded, "That's fine. Need anything to drink, eat?"

They shook their head, "No, I'm alright. You can get something if you want to, though."

Color paused to think. But after all of this, he decided to just get up and grab Delta some water anyways. "I'm gonna get some water. Wanna come with?"

Delta debated it for a moment, but decided to get up with him. And the two quickly stood, and walked over to the kitchen.

"Watch the glass," Color reminded him, as he used his magic to get two mugs down for them.

Delta was distracted, however, and was now focused on getting something Beta was demanding - hot chocolate.

It was always the kid's favorite drink of choice after a bad nightmare. And after a night like this, they deserved it.

Color only seemed to notice when he heard the microwave start humming. He quickly turned around, to see Delta ready with a hot chocolate packet and extra marshmallows ready.

They both just stared at each other for a moment.

"... want one?" Delta offered. Color nodded, and went over to get started on his.

It took only a few minutes to prepare it, but Color was still confused. However, he wasn't sure if it'd be okay to ask.

Delta, intuitive as ever, knew he was confused. They answered before he asked, "Tradition for Beta and I. After a bad night, we get hot chocolate."

Color nodded, smiling lightly, "Awe, that's sweet."

The two finished their hot chocolates, and quickly headed back over to the couch. They placed their mugs on the table in front of them, getting out blankets and pillows so the couch would be more comfortable.

Once they had finished setting up, Color handed Delta the remote. "You pick."

Delta nodded, thanking him. But, to Color's surprise, he immediately started looking for The Lion King.

Color quickly turned to them, making Delta chuckle lightly, a bit embarrassed. "Tradition."

He chuckled, nodding back as Delta clicked 'play'. Color slung his arm around them again, holding them close as they drank their hot chocolates and watched the movie.

After a little bit, Delta found themselves getting lulled back to sleep as their body slowly relaxed. They tried to resist, not wanting to have another nightmare, but Color gently coaxed him into it.

The rest of the night was peaceful, as Delta fell asleep in Color's arms, holding them close - keeping them safe.

[voodooveil-writes]

Rudbeckia as Athanasia (WMMAP x HTGMHOMS crossover)

Okay so, here's another crossover AU! Okay first of all, this is an AU concept, not an original concept. It's A-okay to use this AU in your own creative work, just please credit me :) I've read all of the HTGMHOMS manhwa and most of the WMMAP manhwa, and I know what happens, but I have read neither novel. This post will include spoilers!

Okay, so, for starters, Athanasia's first life is the same, and second life is actually Ruby's second life. by that I mean, Ruby's backstory, where she had a lot of siblings, was abused by her family, and was killed by one of her brothers. Instead of her having read (only) the book about Ruby's story (I can't remember what it is called), she also read Lovely Princess. she is reborn for her third life back as Athanasia, and everything is the same up until her mana explosion when she's 14. She has the explosion, and disappears. Claude does NOT lose his memories of her, and no one is hurt. Claude is completely distraught by her disappearance, and doesn't stop looking for her, determined to find her.

Meanwhile, Athanasia was teleported to the Brittannia Kingdom. The Brittannia Kingdom and the Obelia Empire are neighbors for this AU. When she was teleported there, she tried to explain that she was the princess of the Obelia Empire, but the language in Brittannia is different from in Obelia. (think like Norwegian and Swedish, or Spanish and Portuguese; similar but not the same) The people who found Athanasia bring her to an orphanage, where she learns to speak the language of Brittannia. No one believes her when she tries to tell them who she is, because her jewel eyes became something she could show and hide at will because of the mana explosion, (like Jenette's ring) and she had yet to figure out how to show them.

Athy gets adopted by the pope (by the request of Cesare) and is given the name, "Rudbeckia de Borgia." (But she has both Athanasia and Rudbeckia as her names, think like how immigrants to the US will give their kids names from both their home country and English names.) Cesare is kind while teaching her how to read and write in the language of Brittannia, but soon turns violent. Ruby's only comfort is Enzo. Over the next four years, the Pope tries to marry Ruby off four times before finally marrying her to Izek van Omerta. It goes the same as the normal story, until The Festival. (I think it's chapter 80 or so, where Casare comes to the Omerta Residence)

During the days leading up to the Festival, Ruby had gotten a letter from the Obelia Empire, explaining that Claude de Alger Obelia would be attending the Festival. she specifically was informed of this, (as in she got a separate letter to the one sent to the duke) because the Obelia Empire has reason to believe that Rudbeckia van Omerta was in fact the lost princess, Athanasia de Alger Obelia. Ruby sent her reply immediately, disclosing that she was indeed Athanasia, and explaining what happened to her after her mana explosion (along with classified information to prove her identity.)

What will happen when The Obelian Emperor, along with a select few people such as Athanasia's nanny, Lily; Athanasia's guard, Felix; Athanasia's friend, Lord Ijekiel Alpheus; Athanasia's best friend and the magician of the black tower, Lucas; and some select guards and escorts arrive at the Festival party?

A bit more story stuff:

Athy/Athanasia and Ruby/Rudbeckia will be used interchangeably depending on context

This story is Izek x Ruby, not Lucas x Athy; Lucas and Athanasia will just be best friends.

Claude will become more affectionate and protective than in the original story, because he's nervous about losing Athanasia again

character personalities may deviate from original.

Alright! so this was the concept for the Ruby as Athy AU! I know I haven't finished any of the other one's I've started so far, but I hope that I can get around to those ones AND do this one consistently. wishful thinking lol. Anyways, have a great day everyone!

EDIT: Okay, so, I'm not going to edit the text of the OG post, but I want to apologize and correct what it says. Obelia, Brittannia, and Romagna all border each other, and Athy was teleported to Romagna, NOT Brittannia! I'm so sorry for this mistake!

[newwritergirl]

Starting over | Part 17

Masterlist

Summary: The evening with Bob und Javy at the Hard Deck is destroyed by a Welsh. But unfortunately it's just the beginning of the cruel man's plan.

Trigger Warnings: 18+!, Minors DNI!, past abusive relationhip, throwing up, previous assault, language, angst

Word Count: 2k +

A/N: This chapter is a bit shorter, but I wanted to post it before going deeper into the angst and drama.

With a worried look Pete turns around and makes his way over to Bob and Coyote. He doesn't let some prick destroy the whole progress the young woman made since she lives in Miramar, only because of the loose tongue of that Welsh guy.

"Bob, Coyote. A word." Maverick interrupts the men's conversation rather impolite but he needs to get this off his chest before y/n comes back to their table.

"Captain? Take a seat. What's wrong?" Javy was the first one to speak after the surprising arrival of their Captain.

"I just interrupted Welsh while he had a - conversation with y/n. She looked very uncomfortable. Just, please have an eye on her, I'm not trusting this guy, as you know." Welsh's reason for his assignment on their base is classified but everyone knows by now that something must've happened at his old base. Even with the details unknown for all of them except for Bradshaw and in parts for Seresin, they all assume that Welsh's transfer has to do something with his behavior towards women. With Nat he already bit on granite, with her strong and confident attitude he soon learned that he should shut up in front of the female fighter pilot. But with the shy It-specialist it's a completely different story.

Both pilots share a look before giving their Captain the affirmative to look out for their female friend and to put Welsh under their observation as well.

---

The cold water making contact with her hands helps a bit to stop the tremble she still has in her hands. In no case she is able to continue the evening at the Hard Deck with Bob and Javy. The nausea is still lingering in the back of her throat. The cruel nightmare, the daunting messages from that unknown number and now the repeated encounter with Welsh left her feeling worse every minute she stays longer in the packed bar. She just hopes that her two friends wouldn't be mad or disappointed when she is going to announce that she wants to go home.

With a ghostly pale face and cautious steps, always looking out afraid to once again stumble into Welsh, she makes her way over to the table where Bob and Javy still sitting and waiting patiently for their drinks.

"Hey, there she is." Bob immediately sees that something is wrong with the young woman. Her nearly ashen face gives him a reason to worry even more. He immediately stands up to offer y/n his chair so that she doesn't have to round the table to take a seat. But she touches his arm in a soft grasp as to steady herself.

"Hey, I'm sorry guys, but I call it a night. I'm really tired. Gonna call an Uber and…" She doesn't get to finish her sentence before Javy also stands up grabbing his jacket and looking at her.

"Bob and I just thought the same. Let's go home, sunshine." He wraps his arm around her shoulder in a protective manner, he already noticed her being a bit unsteady.

---

Y/n knows that some wounds never truly heal, especially the deep ones her ex inflicted on her soul. When Welsh grabbed her at the Hard Deck she felt herself catapulted into the life she once lived and she asks herself why she seems to be a magnet for men like that. Under normal circumstances she would seek comfort in her two boyfriends. They're the exact opposite of Welsh and her ex. They're protective, lovely and never had the intention to make her feel small or less worthy. How she misses them, especially now. A sob is bubbling out of her mouth and echoing in the master bathroom where she's currently kneeling in front of the toilet, throwing up everything which is left in her system. She still feels the piercing gaze of Welsh looking dangerously deep into her eyes, his strong and rough grip on her arms, she still hears his words. 'I knew you have a thing for pilots' is playing in her head in that scary tone he said those words. Does he know about their relationship? She knows that their secret relationship would probably not be a secret forever, but she doesn't want that disgusting man to spread rumors at base. She doesn't want Jake and Bradley's careers to be in jeopardy. Another painful gag bubbles out of her throat, tears of pain streaming down her cheeks when she hears her phone chirping in the otherwise silent house.

---

Utterly exhausted she stands up from her position on the bathroom floor she is certain that there's nothing left to bring up. On shaky legs she makes her way over to the sink, her pale face is reflected in the mirror when she sees another sticky note from her boyfriends.

You're the most beautiful woman that we've ever seen.

We love you. JB

Y/n doesn't know how long she looked at the Bradley and Jake's message but another trill of her mobile brings her out of her thoughts. Her heart is beating painfully in her chest afraid of another scary message of an unknown number. When she finally finds her mobile in the living room area where she abandoned it after coming home she's not sure if she is brave enough to open the two unread messages.

A sigh of relief escapes the young woman's mouth.

Bobby: Hey y/n, just wanted to ask if you're doing okay. You didn't look too good when we left the Hard Deck.

Bobby: Y/n, I'm worried. Please text me when you're awake.

Y/n: Hey Bobby. Sorry I was already asleep. I'm good, just tired. Thanks for checking in. I hope you and Javy are not mad for calling it a night so early.

Bobby: No way! We're not mad :-) Please call me, if you need something. Gonna check in with you over the weekend. Sleep well, sunshine.

Y/n: Thanks Bobby! Have a good night!

---

The bar is finally emptying, the last few patrons are finishing their drinks and the buzzing chatter is slowly quieting down. Pete Mitchell sits at his usual spot at the bar where he usually watches his girlfriend Penny preparing to close the Hard Deck. But today he is deep in thought frowning and playing with the label of his beer bottle.

A warm hand stops him from shredding the paper label further.

"Hey, stop making a mess on my bar, I already cleaned it an hour ago." Penny smiled at the pilot in front of her. "What's wrong with you, the last time I saw you frowning like that you thought about how to scare Amelia's boyfriend away."

Pete looks up from the mess he made unconsciously. "Something like that… I'm worried about y/n."

Penny looks at her boyfriend puzzled. "Y/n? What's wrong with the poor girl?"

"You know my dear, some things are classified, but for you I will make an exception." Pete says while grabbing the smaller hand of his girlfriend planting a kiss on the back of her hand.

"With Rooster and Hangman gone… I think she has a hard time. I mean, not because she's alone, but… I caught some sleazy guy harassing her earlier -"

"HARASSING? HER? In my bar? Pete Mitchell, where's this scumbag? You should've told me, I would've kicked his ass out of MY BAR." Penny nearly shouts. Her bar is a safe haven for the Navy and for other people who earn and give respect to other human beings. There's absolutely no room for scum, especially not for men harassing women.

"Slow down tiger. It's not that easy. I will kick him out…out of base and out of town. But I need to form a plan, I need the Admiral in my corner. Well, he also hates this guy, but we need to play it by the books." Welsh is a red flag, that fact is clear since he and the Admiral read his file. But until now they don't have enough in their hands to kick him out of base and out of the Navy for good. But Pete is sure that it will happen in the near future and until then they need to have a close eye on this guy.

"It's someone from the base? Don't tell me it's this new guy… I'm going to kill him." The younger woman wrings the rag in her hand as if she's imagining Welsh's neck.

"Penny, my love. This is absolutely confidential."

---

The rest of the weekend was a blur for y/n. To get through it she found herself in some kind of cleaning madness, not that the house was dirty beforehand, but until Sunday evening she has cleaned some places of their cozy home more than three times just to exhaust herself out enough to sleep for some hours.

Now, fortunately in the middle of the week she sits outside on the base sipping the hot beverage Bob brought her minutes ago and enjoying the crisp air and the morning rays of sun on her face she's miles away with her thoughts. She's relieved that she hasn't seen Welsh the whole week and that she could distract herself with a huge load of work. She helped the Admiral with another computer problem and started on programming new software for the Daggers which should help them with teaching and training the recruits.

"Hello y/n…"

The young woman flinches as she hears the familiar voice. She was lucky enough to not cross path with the nasty aviator the last three days. But today, she's not that lucky. He sits down beside her, too close for her own liking which makes her shrinking into herself even more.

"No greeting, today? I thought you were well-bred. Seems like Michael was still too soft with you." He chuckles.

The moment y/n hears the name of her ex, that man that inflicted so much pain on her, that man who nearly killed her and scarred her soul in so many ways, she feels panic bubbling in her chest. How does Welsh know her ex' name? How does he even have the balls to confront her with her past? With a loud thud her coffee cup falls to the floor, splintering in thousand pieces swimming in the still hot brown liquid. She feels her chest tightening and breathing gets more difficult every second. She jumps up from her seat beside the cruel aviator, feeling his bigger hand squeezing her forearm to prevent her from fleeing. But y/n is able to wiggle herself free and starts to sprint toward the office building. She doesn't notice where she is running, completely trapped in the panic and shock which is swirling in her brain.

---

Some hours before:

Daniel can't believe his luck when the lock finally opens with a click. It's dark outside when he arrived at the base this morning. He didn't want to risk to be seen when he breaks into the Admiral's office. Is it a bit too much to break into the Admiral's office? Probably. Is it too damn risky to steal some information? Hell, yeah. But he needs some more information about this young and sexy IT-specialist and with her two guard dogs gone it's the best time to start his little blackmail show. With the right information about her it will be easier to intimidate this slut further.

"No way…" He talks to himself in a hushed voice when he starts to read y/n's file which is securely stored in the Admiral's office. She had a bad ex-boyfriend who assaulted her? Perfect, this is just perfect. She was a little bruised obedient girl and he will get her there once again. She is just the perfect woman for him. Hopefully his plan is going to bloom before these morons are back from their deployment. But he's in cheerful spirits now that he knows all the little sad details of y/n's past. And he will launch his offensive today. The stupid girl is already afraid and nervous in his presence and this is the best point of departure to go from there. Soon she will be his little toy and her aviator boyfriends are forgotten. She needs a man with a strong hand and not these two sissies. This slut needs him and he knew the first time he laid his eyes on her that she will be his.

@djs8891

@darksparklesficrecs

@nerdgirljen

@abaker74

@crazyunsexycool

@itsarabellebabes

[bluebirds-37]

so i recently got dragged by my hair back into the Undertale fandom and as such

WHAT THE FFFFFART DID I MISS!?

I COME BACK AFTER LIKE 3-4 YEARS AND SUDDENLY KILLER AND DUST HAVE SO MUCH MORE LORE THAT ID JUST.. MISSED? I COMPLETELY SKIMMED OVER UNDERVERSE AND DREAMSWAP IDK HOW THAT HAPPENED—NOT TO MENTION I MISSED REDESIGNS, RENAMES, CREATOR DRAMAS AND ALL THAT SORT OF SHIT??

AND WDYM THERES DELTARUNE CROSSOVER COMICS NOW- I DEADASS COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT DELTARUNE, I NEVER EVEN FINISHED PLAYING THE FIRST CHAPTER??? I LEFT LIKE 2 MONTHS AFTER DELTARUNE CAME OUT???

In retribution for my sins I shall share my hcs/what will be present in my comics whenever I decide to post them/finish them (its been like 3 days i cant stop drawing sans aus)

Btw I cant decide if I want to go with the more canon Nightmare approach (which im still learning about, no one ever talked about it back when I was first in the fandom), or Dadmare (i find it sweet, however impractical it actually is for his character)

CORE Frisk is the absolute bane of Nightmare's existance, they've stopped him dead in his tracks countless times now

Ink is technically a neutral party, he only really sides with the stars because he thinks their company is fun, and because Nightmare is posing a huge threat to countless AUS

In that same chain, Error is technically a neutral psrty, mostly because he just doesnt freaking like Nightmare, he finds his bossiness annoying. And Dream's incessant positivity endlessly aggrivating. Plus Nightmare fights Blue. Blue is Error's pookie. (Is that still canon?? Dawg its been years idfk)

The only one who knows that Ink is soulless is Error (bc of his strings). No one else can get enough consistent hits on him during battles for anyone to be able to clearly tell

Reaper is genuinely disgusted by the path Nightmare went down, whereas Nightmare is a Guardian and very powerful as such; Reaper is still the god of death across the omniverse (is that still a term we use yall???) and therefore in a power structure is above him and Dream. Reaper had hoped it wouldnt turn out the way it did.

Horror didnt know what refeeding syndrome was when he first began working for Nightmare, so upon being given the option to actually eat.. he got insanely sick and was immediately rendered unable to fight for weeks.

Dust cannot stand loud noise, he was alone in his empty AU for so long when he was that silence isnt in any way comforting; its just easier to deal with than noise. (Do we still call him dust?? Or do we call him Murder?? Ive seen people use both, im partial to Dust but idfk- dawg i was back here when gacha club hadnt even come out yet)

KIller really cant stomach much at any given time, when Horror first got there they had a handful of talks about eating properly that... Killer wasnt very fond of having

Not a hc but Im so sick of the Blueberry peopoganda its been god knows how long since he was made and people are STILL infantalizing him. THATS A WHOLE GROWN MAN. JUST BECAUSE HES POSITIVE AND A LITTLE SILLY DOESNT MEAN HES A CHILD?? OR AN UWU SOFT BOY?? THATS A MAN TRAINING TO BE A PART OF THE QUEEN'S ROYAL GUARD?? I personally never understood it, I was guilty of a few pre-teen undertale fandom sins- BUT NOT BLUEBERRY I WASNT. I STOOD ON THIS HILL AND I WILL CONTINUE HERE FOREVER. I HAVE MY PICNIC BASKET AND IM NOT LOSING MY SPOT

Ccino's is one of many neutral grounds in the multiverse just because everyone fw Ccino

It genuinely hurts for Geno and Error to touch people, because of their glitches and their respective times in the antivoid (is Geno in the antivoid??)

Lust is incredibly sweet, on the occasion he runs into anyone from other aus, his favorite people to run into are Dance, Ccino, Ink, and Horror (dont ask me how Dance and Ccino are crossing aus, lets just say they get caught up in star sans stuff a lot idk)

[aiiria17]

I read Moonrise (Warriors: The New Prophecy)

Hey, I'm Ari and I just finished the second book of The New Prophecy. It's easily the book I feel most conflicted about in the main series, so much so that even after writing this fairly long post I still feel conflicted about parts of it. That being said I feel like I at least understand what the aim of the authors was and I promise that there's more here than just Tribe hate. There is a little bit of Tribe hate though. Okay a good bit but honestly that's not my fault.

Well, most of my analysis today is about the tribe section because that's where most of the actual narrative of Moonrise takes place. Without any more stalling, what's up with Moonrise?

The Tribe of Stalling Plotlines

Pretty early on in Moonrise, the traveling group of 6 cats goes and meets the Tribe of Rushing Water, who are an extremely clan-esque group just living in the mountains. They are really, really uninteresting. The main problem with the segment of the book where they are in the Tribe is simply just that the Tribe isn't particularly interesting.

The group most similar to them in terms of function (though not similar at all socially) is Bloodclan, just in the terms of both being a variation on Warrior lifestyle. Bloodclan, however, has the intrigue of being very violent and inhospitable. They're mentioned to basically throw out anyone unfit to fight which makes them, in spite of their minimally time actually existing within the story, interesting as a contrast to the caring and stable clans. The Tribe, however, is really just a clan with different terms and living in the mountains. Learning their culture isn't interesting because it's barely different besides just fusing leader/medicine cats and having warriors trained for two specific functions.

So the Tribe really only takes about 10 seconds to actually explain, which means there's not much narrative value in just watching them do normal tribe things. Because of this, we immediately transition into the conflict for the Tribe being that there's a big scary like mountain lion or whatever that's eating them. Good enough conflict. It has a lot of solid elements that make a decent little villain: seems difficult to conquer, shows clear harm to group, etc. The problem is that Sharptooth is not a character but instead just a force of nature, basically. There's just nothing actually interesting about prolonging the conflict, and oh boy do they prolong Sharptooth. Chapter 9 is the first time Sharptooth is alluded to, not counting the prologue (the Tribe refuses to say he exists for a while for no particular reason). Sharptooth does not attack until Chapter 15. Finally, in Chapter 23, it dies. Even acknowledging the amount of Leafpaw chapters there are, the book just feels so long because nothing happens in most of the chapters when the Fellowship of the Badger are in the cave. Mostly it's just arguing "hey we need to go home give us Stormfur" and the Tribe says "no." Riveting stuff, truly. You see, in the prologue, Stoneteller (the leader/medicine cat) is told that a silver cat will beat up Sharptooth. He decides that cat is Stormfur.

Stormfur is sure there and arguably not even silver

In the allegiances, Stormfur is listed as dark gray, which is, famously, not really silver and more so dark gray.

I just want to toss that out there but I'll get back to it later.

So the other problem with the Tribe sections is that, for the majority of them, Stormfur is the pov character and he really isn't that interesting. Before getting to the Tribe, his mind is split between being mad that Feathertail and Crowpaw love each other and having some kind of weird attraction to Squirrelpaw that comes out of nowhere and goes nowhere. Eventually, the cats do meet the Tribe where Stormfur has his entire character arc as a speedrun within the first day of getting there, and, to be fair, it is actually fairly good.

I've been overly negative so far, mostly just because I don't particularly care for Moonrise especially after Midnight, which was actually pretty good. And while I don't like Stormfur, his character arc while staying with the Tribe is actually really nice. As a reminder, Stormfur was not chosen to go on the journey as part of the Sundown Crusaders; he went because his sister, Feathertail, was going and he's glued to her as she really the only person in Riverclan he feels a close bond to. The journey is weird for Stormfur because he doesn't belong, which is a running theme with his character. The reason that he's so snappy about Feathertail and Crowpaw getting along, to me, is because of that fear of isolation. Essentially, the more time Feathertail spends with Crowpaw, the less time she'll spend with him, and nobody else is spending time with him beyond beyond her. That's really what gives Stormfur complexity is the fact that he doesn't seem to really recognize why he resents their relationship and defaults to "my sister will not be having a half clan relationship." Don't get me wrong though, Stormfur is not in the right for trying to dictate Feathertail's life. She is not just "his sister" she is also a fully independent character, but he doesn't really see it this way.

Well, upon arriving at the tribe and being misinterpreted as the silver cat (spoilers- it's definitely his sister who is actually silver), he actually is treated fairly well. The cats like him pretty well, especially Brook. A key aspect about his relationship with Brook is that she's really the only cat who Stormfur feels a bond to beyond Feathertail, who doesn't interact with him as much now that she has a Crowpaw. It's directly stated that Stormfur softens on her relationship whenever he meets Brook; while the text blatantly states it being because of him relating to loving someone not from their clan, meaning he's softer on half-clan relationships overall, if we continue reading into Stormfur's possible subconscious reasoning, he's probably relaxed just as much because he doesn't have only Feathertail to talk to anymore.

Jumping ahead to Dawn (I already finished it cause I had to toss out and redo this post. The original was super bad), Stormfur ends up deciding to stay with the Tribe because he finally finds a place where he actually belongs. He specifically pulls Squirrelpaw aside to tell her this and, going back to hating, there's really no reason for him to besides being able to explain it to the pov character so the readers know his actual motivations. Weird scene honestly, Squirrelpaw was as confused as the rest of us.

So yeah, I hate Stormfur cause he's boring but I'll admit that his character arc is really good. If only I didn't have to actually read his perspective to see it.

Feathertail dies and that's pretty much it

I know I titled the last section "Stormfur is sure there" but Feathertail is actually just kind of there. She's also a pov character though I couldn't tell you what her pov actually shows beyond "Tribe taking Stormfur bad" if you held me at gunpoint. So please do not do that.

Feathertail is honestly just an extremely disappointing character for plenty of reasons but I'll start off with the most eye-catching: Feathertail is a female character who is only really relevant because of the views of male characters surrounding her. Why does she get with Crowpaw? Romantic chemistry? Nope, there's less chemistry happening there than when mixing oil and water. Any level of her having some interest in him? Not really, she just doesn't hate him and then suddenly they love each other. The first time I saw their relationship referenced, I genuinely thought I accidentally skipped a scene or something but no they just suddenly love each other. I guess Brambleclaw just didn't notice or something. Could they get together so Crowpaw can be sad and so Stormfur can be insecure? Almost certainly. If you asked me why Feathertail is relevant, I would bring up all the stuff I just said about Stormfur and reaction Crowpaw has to her death. She is definitely the most notable example to this point in the series of a female character being written in a way that could be called not super cool. I don't want to say sexist because I don't think that's what this is and I, as a not a woman, don't feel 100% comfortable saying that about a book written predominately by women (entirely? I'm not sure but I know many writers involved were women). I do think it's kind of annoying to see a character that is mostly relevant in regards to the men in her life and serves very little narrative purpose otherwise. But hey, she is Silverstream's daughter after all.

The only other thing she does is kill Sharptooth, which is done so suddenly that it feels out of nowhere. Within like one page, Feathertail just suddenly goes "this is my purpose" and then kamikazes herself into Sharptooth and gets them both stabbed with a rock. I'd consider this a major character point but it's very sudden and hard to dissect as a reader. While it is absolutely raw as hell, she just kind of dies and that's it, she's just dead and now Crowpaw is sad and Stormfur is lonely when not with the tribe. The tribe proceeds to have the most tone deaf celebration of all time.

To put it bluntly- Feathertail is more so a plot device than a character. She hardly does anything to distinguish herself besides be in love with Crowpaw, and even that is predominately to advance his character and Stormfur's. She's such a let down to what could have been an actually interesting character.

The Tribe never explains why they didn't think it was Feathertail. The whole plot of Moonrise is entirely dependent on Stoneteller not knowing what silver is. Brilliant.

The one good thing about the Tribe is how they accidentally build narrative tension

I have now talked (typed?) quite a lot about how the tribe, professionally speaking, blows. They're not interesting and the whole plot with them is drawn out and illogical. There is only one way that the plot being dragged out works and it's because of the chapters not spent with the tribe.

Back in the Leafpaw chapters, she is effectively documenting for the readers the destruction done to the forest while Brambleclaw and the Heartbreakers go off to see the wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz. There's a feeling of helplessness with the clans that makes it so captivating to read. Seeing Windclan being pushed to be unable to hunt the rabbits they've hunted for years and needing to steal prey from other clans (though never bothering to go to Ravenpaw and Barley's barn for some reason, despite it bordering their territory). Dappletail dies out of desperation making her decide to eat poison. And at the end of it all, Leafpaw gets captured while on an search for the also captured Brightheart and Cloudtail (assisted with her Thunderclan best bud Sorreltail). While she still definitely makes time to assert how pretty some of the cats around her are and how nice Spottedleaf smells (very important to the plot), Leafpaw is basically allowing the reader to witness the fear that comes with the destruction of the forest while it happens.

It's because of the tension in the forest that the stacked tension of Brambleclaw's merry band of misfits getting effectively held prisoner by the tribe so interesting. While the conflict of the Tribe is boring on it's own, the tension of knowing they need to get out of there as soon as they can gives some basic level of narrative interest that is desperately needed. Really Moonrise is a 300 page long build of tension to Dawn, where the clans are finally enabled to leave the forest (after a lot of bickering). I can't argue that it's ineffective. I think part of my frustration with the tribe is because I wanted to see them return to the clans and help them out as is desperately needed. It's hard not to get invested into the safety of the clans I've been made to love being 9 (I read Tallstar's Revenge) books deep into the series at this point.

There's a weird issue though I've run into with my analysis here. I want to give a definitive "Tribe part good" or "Tribe part bad" but I can't. In isolation, the section with the Tribe is super boring. The villain is done in a really weak way, none of the characters present or introduced do anything especially interesting, and the cherry on top is that all of that is portrayed through a Stormfur pov. However, the plotline isn't made in isolation. The split in perspectives makes it work slightly. While it's still annoying to read filler, the filler is a narrative tool to make the tension of the Washington Brambleclaw Team needing, desperately, to get out feel as long as it probably did for the cats involved. So I can't really say "it was good/bad" because it was both. Though, obviously, it could have been done in a more interesting way, the end result is still effective as a narrative tool.

Conclusion!

As I said I already finished Dawn because I was stalling with how to write this post for a while. The main problem was that a lot of Leafpaw's sections don't have any finished conflicts yet (because it's a series). For example, originally I had a section about Hawkfrost, but there's little to say beyond he's clearly evil and looks like Tigerstar, which is incredibly surface level. Dawn kind of continues that because not much happens for the first 200ish pages but I think I can squeeze out a section about Mothwing and Tallstar so it'll be all good.

Thank you so much for reading, I'll probably get the Dawn post out in a day or two. If you think I said something dumb or just wanna ask for clarification feel free. I don't exactly have anything better going on and will respond.

bye bye

[deltastra]

My Thoughts on Project Eden's Garden Chapter 1

Back in 2022, I was excited for the release of Project Eden's Garden prologue. And it didn't disappoint. Sadly I was too lazy to make a post at the time, haha. So here's a list of how much I liked the characters back when the prologue released:

^ For the record, just because I "dislike" the character, doesn't mean they're badly written. It's just a personal preference and it didn't change the way I viewed the story whatsoever. A disliked or hated character doesn't mean a bad character.

Anyway, 2 years later, chapter 1 has finally been released. It took me a few days but I finally finished it and I must say, I absolute loved it.

This post will be about my overall thoughts on what transpired in the chapter, my thoughts on the characters, and the story as a whole.

SUPER LONG POST INCOMING

SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 1 BELOW

We start off with a reminder of how much Damon fumbled 2 years ago lol. To be honest, I LOVED Damon for that rant at the end of the prologue. Was he mean? Yes. But it was so refreshing to see an asshole protag. I look forward to see how he develops.

After we see his room and check our surroundings. We were told by Cassidy to meet everyone in the dining hall. On our way there we can talk to Diana and I swear I love the conversations those two have. It's so much fun seeing someone has cheerful and kind as Diana deal with someone who is cold and logical as Damon.

Eventually we learn about the pharmacy and were even given a new update in our tozu tablets where we can learn more about eachother. Eva immediately told us to stop looking at them because it exposes our weaknesses and that's what Tozu was planning. I believed her right away because my impression of her during the prologue was that she'd be our 'Kirigiri', basically the cool-headed smart partner. I would've trusted her.

NOPE. TURNS OUT, THE ULTIMATE LIAR LIED ABOUT HER TALENT.

This was when I started seeing Eva for more than a 'Kirigiri' character. There was nothing wrong about her in the prologue, but she never clicked with me back then because everything about her felt 'on the nose'. I mean come on, "Ultimate Liar"???? That sounds so strange, but I liked the game so I didn't mind too much. With the reveal that she was actually a mathlete, I began opening up to her character more.

Like I genuinely started feeling for her character when everyone started making fun of her. You could feel the personality she built in the prologue shatter. And the more we learnt about her and why she lied about her talent, the more I began liking her and even relating to her a bit.

Anyway, we got freetime events and my first instinct was to run to Diana. I love her conversations with Damon and think they bounce off eachother well, even better than with Eva. I was excited to see more of that. And I'm glad I did.

I love how her free time event is just her teaching Damon to not be a jerk. Like, "Don't glare" for example. She also gives him praise where praise is due, such as him reaching out to her.

She is so good at talking to him that it's kind of adorable. I was interested in seeing if she can actually help Damon open up but that would also mean she would be most likely to die and I really didn't want that to happen so soon. Either way, she will definitely be my focus for FTE.

I wanted to talk to Grace and know more about her but it wasn't letting me because she locked herself in her room.

So I went to Eva instead. She was alone downstairs avoiding everyone and talking to her made me so sad. I understood her talent more and why she hid it.

Afterward we went for our private one-on-one with Tozu, forgot to mention but I find Damon to be very smart but also very stupid. Smart that he found a way to contact Tozu and discuss the blackmail he got of Wolfgang, but dumb in a sense that he is already under suspicion by everyone. If they found out he did this, everyone would suspect him more.

I love Tozu as a host and "mascot". He is so eccentric but also pretty scary when he needs to be. Like when he said "Go on. Leave first." at the end of their conversation. But to be honest, I felt as though this conversation was kind of useless...

Afterward we see that Grace and Wofgang are living together now because they switched roomies. Damon was too scared to sleep alone so he went to Kai's dorm. I was excited because I didn't really like Kai in the prologue, this was a chance to see him in a full chapter which can properly showcase his character to me. After that scene, I started liking Kai a little more but I was also suspicious of him because since Damon came late, Kai could tell the others and it would be terrible. Kai seems to have a habit of throwing Damon under the bus lol.

(Took me a while to combine those two screenshots to get the full image lol)

Afterwards, there was a cute scene with everyone doing laundry and it was nice seeing a more relaxed atmosphere. Damon and Kai chilling together, Ingrid singing (she has such a nice voice omg), and Grace yelling at Wolfgang because he doesn't know how to use a washing machine. Overall, a very wholesome scene.

We meet Eva and learn she has Desmond's blackmail. At first, I fully trusted her and why she told Damon. Desmond is a marksman, he has weapons. Meeting him personally to tell him something private abt him that he doesn't want people to know seems scary. Hence why I was so against Wolfgang's idea.

Eva's conversation with Damon was one of my favourite scenes in the game. It felt nice she noticed Damon's fruitless effort during the trial and how no one thanked him. She noticed that they are the only two against Wolfgang. As they talked, I thought about how I don't know if I could enjoy this scene as much as I do right now if Eva kept her "Ultimate Liar" persona. At this point, I was an Eva fan 100%. I might talk about her more one day in a post, but we'll see.

I felt like Damon finally made a friend. Well, the closest thing to one in a killing game at least. Eva had all the qualities that Damon could work with. A decent amount of trust and no naivety. They both are constantly on-guard.

Her reasoning to why she chose to be a 'Liar' was kind of reasonable, I was surprised. On paper, it sounds ridiculous to call yourself that in a killing game. But when taking Eva's whole character into perspective, everything falls into place perfectly. As Damon puts it, everything she did felt self-destructive. Little did I know how true this will be later.

When we make it to the dining hall, Wolfgang questions us on why we were late. Damon counters him. I like to believe Damon's open-willingness to argue with Wolfgang in front of everyone now is mostly due to learning more about Eva and having a sense of camaraderie with her. He doesn't feel alone for once, in terms of thinking.

Cassidy wants to hold a gaming tournament. It's sweet and I started opening up to her character cause of it. Wolfgang is unsure of attending and Diana said she would be "busy". I was scared. Why would Diana be busy and HOW could she be busy. She's been acting strange. It was making me think that she will die or be the first killer. The way she acted around Damon was a bit too suspicious. I wanted to do her freetime event again but she wasn't available, which made me more worried.

I did Eva's instead to learn more about her, I'll save my thoughts about it for another time. But the general reaction I had was "Yup. Someone tell 2022 me that he will become an Eva fan"

Other than Diana, I really wanted to know more about Desmond. So, I did his FTE next! He's lowkey a chill guy. I really hope he'll be our "bro" character but I feel like the signs are leaning towards Kai fulfilling that role. Unlike Wolfgang, Desmond's kindness doesn't feel calculated to me. He's just casual about everything. I liked how he claimed that Damon and him are similar and as to why he believes so, he even offered to debate with Damon. Overall, a neat conversation. I love Desmond in a sense that, he's just pleasant to be around. I hope to see more of his character shine in future chapters.

We meet Diana again and she seems to be back to normal, but the sinister music kicks in when she asks how we are. I was VERYYY concerned. I assumed someone had severe blackmail on her and thought she murdered someone. Before it felt sweet when she wanted to know more about Damon and Eva, but in this scenario, it was very suspicious. Tozu even said, "Tonight could be the night which changes your life forever." which implies that he saw someone get murdered.

After a funny scene with Damon and Kai sharing a bed. We wake up and head to the gaming tournament!

At the time, I was so happy to see Eva choosing to go to the tournament and even bonding with Cassidy over a niche game. I thought Eva no longer had to hide under a false talent in order to feel powerful. She could be herself. Man...

She goes on explaining that she used to eat lunch in the bathrooms which made me feel for her even more. Part of me disliked Damon for making a joke at her expense when she was being vulnerable, but I can't help but think that it is also his way of showing that he does not pity her and treats her like an equal (somewhat). Hell, Eva even laughed at the joke.

The tournament begins and I love how seriously Damon was taking it. I actually believe he was having fun. I love Damon because while he may be an ass, when he's focused on something, he gives it his all. This includes a silly gaming tournament too.

Then a blackout occured and I KNOW someone's getting killed. So time to lock in. And man...let's just say I am GLAD I never got spoiled because...

MY JAW DROPPED.

A million thoughts flowed through my brain. Was this a fake-out? Was this death merely shock factor? He was meant to be the rival and main obstacle to Damon and Eva, HOW?

I was looking forward to seeing trials with Damon and Wolfgang going head-to-head.

I was both shocked and worried about where the writing will go. Wolfgang had so much potential in the story.

But I also thought "let them cook". With the main guy who encouraged everyone that no one would resort to violence was killed. Ultimately, his death disproved everything he believed in. His death WILL kickstart the killing game for sure.

My prediction was that it was Diana who killed him.

I really hoped it wasn't Diana but she was too suspicious.

As we investigated, we had to convince Grace to let us in Wolfgang's room. Honestly this was when I started to actually dislike Grace because why on earth did she think this was a good idea. I guess she had a connection to Wolfgang, but it was still irritating how much she hindered the investigation. This situation did let me see more of Eloise and man, she can be pretty scary. I heard her FTE is no different, I should look it up sometime.

Then, we had around 20 minutes remaining for the investigation, so we had to rush. Even though there was no time limit for the player, I could still feel the tension. I desperately wanted to know Diana's testimony. She feels completely different, like all the light in her eyes is gone and for good reason. Just like the others, she looked up to Wolfgang and believed no one would kill eachother. I love how you can feel the stakes rising. This isn't like the prologue. Your life is on the line and there is no time to grieve. And with Damon and Eva leading the investigation, two people who struggle with emotions and were outcasted by Wolfgang, it gets harder.

This scene is kind of why I like Diana, some may find this type of behaviour annoying and naive, but to me it showcases how much she's willing to believe in people as opposed to Damon. It hurts that Diana is STILL trying to see the good in people. But without Wolfgang, no one wants to play nice or believe in eachother anymore. Hence Grace's declaration of anger towards the killer enjoying their death penalty and Mark's agreement. Although I was also thinking how much this scene would hurt if Diana was the killer.

You know it's funny. Back when I was younger and a huge DGR fan, i would watch the class trials and think, wow the MC and partner carries these. Damon kind of reflects that. He believes in his own talent THAT much and he has seen how the students participate in the trials. Damon isn't necessarily right about how he is the only one who can carry this trial, but he is right that without him, its very hard to believe that the class can solve the murder of Wolfgang.

I love Damon's internal monolgues because it shows the type of person he is. He can be bitter and arrogant, but he is not heartless.

Either way, the trial begins and Grace is IMMEDIATELY questioned by Eloise for good reason.

I liked Grace in the prologue because she's a very outspoken person who takes no nonsense. But throughout this trial, I was getting irritated with her attitude. I hope her character actually goes somewhere in later chapters because if it stays like this, I doubt I will like her as much as I did in the prologue.

We eventually reach the part where Cassidy asked the person with Wolfgang's blackmail to speak up and explain themselves if they're innocent and DAMON WAS SWEATING BULLETS. However, Eva had our backs and explained why that information would not be useful. I can see why Damon stayed silent, if someone like him spoke up, who knows how everyone will react. ESPECIALLY Grace.

Also an interesting thing I've noticed is that everyone seems to be genuinely helping and contributing to the class trial. No one is just needlessly making quips. Cassidy makes jokes time to time, but she still helps.

Then when the suspicion hit Diana, I WAS SCARED. I was genuinely believing that she was the one who killed Wolfgang. But...how? She doesn't seem like someone who can kill and I doubt the writers would make her suddenly evil. So I assumed she killed out of self-defence.

What I loved a lot as a Damon and Diana fan was how Damon was starting to feel sympathy towards Diana. DAMON of all people. I wish I remembered how to use Pathos bullets so I could see Damon speak from a more emotional perspective, it feels more fitting for his development in my opinion.

We learn that the reason why she was crying with guilt was not because she killed Wolfgang, it was because she watched him die and couldn't do anything.

I'm skimming through the events of the trial as this post is getting long.

With Diana's suspicion cleared, I had no idea who would kill Wolfgang at this point. I started assuming Wenona did it or maybe Ulysses. However, looking back at it, it seems Eva still suspected Diana. I was too blind to see why would she even after Damon cleared it up.

As the trial progressed and we learn that the suspect could be anyone in the tournament. I was trying to hard to think who it could possibly be. Everyone had the realistic reaction of freaking out and yelling their alibis. I thought so hard. Who could it be? Who's position can Damon not remember? And then it hit, and I still doubted myself...

Eva. Of course, she started defending herself. As she started claiming that Damon was saying nonsense and that he's the killer, I could feel the friendship between these two die. I wonder if there was truly any sense of friendship between them to begin with. I believe that Damon genuinely thought there was whether he would admit it or not.

I was worried that just like with Wolfgang, Eva being the killer so early seems like wasted potential. But no, its perfect. Because of her character throughout the chapter and what we learn about her. I'll save it for a future post. I want to talk about Eva more.

As Eva claimed that she only pretended to be friends with Damon, his internal monologue was heartbreaking. Eva's words SHOULDN'T matter to him. He's close to solving the murder. But sadly, they do affect him. He judged others for being too trusting, while he blindly followed Eva's words.

As Damon gave his speech about how he did respect Wolfgang and how he doesn't want to see bloodshed, Kai vouched for him which I LOVE. It shot Kai up on my list cause of that. I was afraid he would be the guy to always point fingers at Damon, but thankfully it wasn't the case.

Eva broke down and we see her true nature. And to no one's surprise, all of this could've been avoided if people didn't give her too much shit for being a mathlete. Of course it isn't that simple since Eva had issues before that. But I genuinely believe that Wolfgang shouldn't have put too much suspicion on Eva and Damon and make them outcasts, it came back to bite him as Eva was obsessed with proving herself.

Seeing her cry after her defeat was hard to watch. The character I thought would be the "Kirigiri" of this game is now standing here, sobbing, and about to be executed.

Her rant about Wolfgang and how they blindly followed him is something I somewhat agree with.

I agree with Diana as well and it solidied my love for Eva and Diana's character. Diana genuinely tried to keep her part of the group. SHE TRIED. Wolfgang was okay with just throwing them to the side. That's where I think Diana is better than Wolfgang. But Eva was too wrapped up in her hatred that she couldn't see that someone was genuinely helping her. A mindset that is understandable for someone who has been bullied and outcasted for all their life. This was out of Diana's control.

But Eva isn't wrong either. Could she really trust Diana's intentions? No, not when Diana would also believe Wolfgang's word, the same word of the man who treats her like an outcast.

We learn about the traitor's perk. And I know people say Tozu threatened her to take it, but I feel like saying that she was treatened and thats why she killed Wolfgang kind of goes against all that we were shown? We didn't properly learn of the traitor's perk and its consequences until AFTER her rant about everyone in the class and her life. The traitor perk's consequences seemed more of an after-thought to her. Eva is very complex and I love that.

As she pointed out their hypocrisy, Grace yelled at Tozu to get on with the execution. I know she's upset and I understand that. But I would be lying if I said she didn't fall down my list immensely after saying that. Tozu announces the execution and Eva cries. Her execution was..intense. I wanna go into it deeper one day but to keep it short for now, I love how the execution wasn't just themed after her talent. The execution felt like an insult towards her story as a whole. She will always be a mathlete. Now with both Wolfgang and Eva dead, the killing games will finally begin. There is no one to guide them. Unless..

I know this scene is cringe to some people, but this made me love Diana and feel confident regarding what they'll do with her character going forward. She will follow Wolfgang's footsteps, and who knows, maybe have a more 'healthy' version of leadership than Wolfgang's approach. She genuinely believes in everyone, even Eva. I love that. I feel like her character losing hope as the game progresses seems off. This was a nice speech of hers but she should've picked a better time. Because unfortunately, no one took her speech seriously.

Except for one.

At this point, it seems obvious that Diana act as Damon's foil for the upcoming trials. Damon, who relies on logic. Diana, who relies on emotion. I'm cautiously optimistic because I thought it would be Wolfgang when I finished the prologue but I was dead wrong. I cannot wait to see how both of these characters develop their rivalry throughout the trials.

-------

And thats a wrap! This post took me like 3 weeks to write cuz I've been busy lol.

This chapter was so good and I was at the edge of my seat! I'm so happy I never got spoiled!

It's amazing how in just one chapter, Eva became my absolute favourite. It feels like just yesterday I was sold on everyone's character in the prologue except for her. I thought she'd be the know-it-all, cool-headed partner. But the reveal of her true talent was a nice surprise! And her whole character was well-written and complex.

With how well the motive for murder was written in this chapter, I really hope the later chapters don't get too crazy. Like no 'despair disease' type of motive please. I hope the kills don't get too unrealistic as well, keeping them grounded helps maintain the atmosphere for this story in my opinion. As for the executions, I'd be amazed if they centered around the characters' journey instead of just their talent, like with Eva for example. It played on her insecurities.

Finally, it seems the main theme for this chapter was 'hypocrisy' as the title of the chapter suggests.

Damon, who thought everyone was naive for trusting eachother and especially Wolfgang, blindly trusted Eva.

Wolfgang, who believed no one would kill and that everyone should stick together, outcasted Damon and Eva and urged everyone to keep an eye on them just because of some rude remarks they made.

Eva, who claims no one cared for her and hates her, screwed over Damon and Diana who did care about her and had multiple opportunties to befriend people like Cassidy in the gaming tournament.

I'm sure theres more that I'm missing but this is all I got for now. Here is my updated tier list after Chapter 1:

Overall, fantastic chapter. I'm so excited for the next!!! Keep cooking Eden's Garden team! You're all doing great!!!! anyway sorry for the long yap session

[zhaohuis-lost-walnut]

Reading Update

[spoilers up to chapter 183]

BRO, I have been immersed in reading these last few days. I legit only do my homework and read QJJ 😭 I just finished chapter 183 and SO MUCH HAS HAPPENED???

Yes, that’s over 40 chapters since my last post but we don’t need to talk about that part. I’m gonna just ramble for a bit about general things that I adore.

First of all, Shen Zechuan’s squad of people just keeps increasing. I love how so many Qudu characters casually (not casual at all actually, it’s quite traumatic—) make their way to Cizhou and Shen Zechuan collects them like Pokémon. I was so excited when Yu Xiaozai showed up! Yao Wenyu really hurts me though. I honestly really liked Xue Xiuzhuo as an antagonist because he managed to outwit our protagonists on several occasions, but what he did to Yao Wenyu was just too cruel :( The chasing him down AT HAI LIANGYI’S RESTING GROUND? The assassins beating Yao Wenyu and later having him poisoned??? Like, chill out? Even Shen Zechuan ain’t doing all that 😭 And Yao Wenyu’s self talk is just so heart breaking :(((

Okay, now I’m sad. So instead, XIAO FANGXU?!? He’s such a fun character. One aspect I find really interesting about Xiao Chiye is that after he leaves Qudu he mentions several times how he separates his family and the Libei Armored Cavalry. And it seems Xiao Fangxu is the same (though perhaps to a lesser degree since he let Chiye run off for a bit to be with Shen Zechuan in Dunzhou 🤣). There are so many moments where I go “Yep, Chiye is Fangxu’s son”. They’re so silly.

The Xiao family immediately loving Shen Zechuan is so funny too. Lu Yizhi visiting Shen Zechuan’s place in Cizhou was crazy 😭 And her feeling Shen Zechuan out to write to the family was hilarious. I miss Xiao Jiming 😔

Chapter 161 with Xiao Fangxu and Chiye’s horse race was so sweet. I almost cried. They’re both so petty but MAN are the Xiaos romantic 🥹

There are too many things I could write about! This story is just so incredible!

Learning about Bai Cha??? She’s such an incredible character and the way the story slowly showed more and more about her until we’re learned the absolute girl boss she is! The whole Dunzhou trip arc was just perfect from start to finish. I’m truly in awe at how a human being can create a story so incredible.

I’m honestly itching to read ever more as I write this but there’s no way I can leave without mentioning how dang cute Cezhou are 😭😭😭 Everytime they’re together I get butterflies. The way Shen Zechuan can relax around Chiye is sooooo great 😩 Even when Xiao Chiye is (rightfully) upset with Shen Zechuan for not taking care of himself, Shen Zechuan tries to act all cute so he’ll stop being mad. And Shen Zechuan verbally telling Chiye he loves him for the first time had me tearing up 🥺 Chapter 164 in general is so sweet and vulnerable.

Xiao Chiye snitching to Ji Gang in chapter 144 was both silly and cathartic because Shen Zechuan not taking his safety serious is a very real issue! Fei Sheng having to essentially babysit Shen Zechuan is absolute gold 👌

Oh Fei Sheng, my beloved! I care him so hard.

Uh, what else? The fights are really cool. Every time Shen Zechuan pulls up on the battlefield I get so hyped 😤 The fights are choreographed so well! I shouldn’t be suprised but I’m always left in awe by how incredible they are! And the fact that the author isn’t scared to let people get hurt or even lose?!? It makes every blow carry so much weight!

Xiao Chiye vs Hasen had me stressing so bad 😫 And the lasting impact it has on Chiye is phenomenal. Shen Zechuan vs Lei Jingzhe (for the second time lol) was so sick. Shen Zechuan’s monologue gave me chills. And Xiao Chiye “returning” Tantai Hu and the other old Dunzhou garrison troops seriously wrecked me. I love Tantai Hu! I know he’ll make Master proud!!!

I love that we get more insight on Xiao Chiye and Shen Zechuan’s mental states! Shen Zechuan keeps secrets from Xiao Chiye because he doesn’t want to worry him, but Chiye does the same thing >:( I understand why they do it, but it still hurts to read.

Also also Yan Heru is so silly. Though I felt kinda bad when its made clear Shen Zechuan doesn’t like him because a lot of people did die because this kid is kinda crazy 😗 I was more caught up in how eccentric he is that I completely forgot about the whole financially supporting bandits and starving the people for profit stuff (amongst other things). I still can’t help but have a soft spot for him though because he’s so silly? Like, he’s so unserious 🗿

Okay, actual last thing before I log off: I think it’s INSANE that Shen Zechuan is out here calling Xiao Chiye his husband in front of their enemies while Ji Gang still doesn’t know 👁️👄👁️ I don’t think we’ve seen Shen Zechuan even think about telling him 😭 He’s BEEN planning about taking Ji Gang to Dajing but still hasn’t told him (Ji Gang being sus about their relationship in chapter 183 is so funny)

The military stuff is really cool too but I ain’t getting into all that. Just know I deeply appreciate the Qi Zhuyin content 🙂‍↕️💖 Keep it coming 🗣🗣🗣

[aurorafables]

From the Grey, Chapter 7.

“By the way, I'm Nicholas,” I tried to lighten his mood a little. “My friends usually just call me Nick.”

The boy finally stopped and slowly turned towards me. He brushed his hair away from his face with long, thin fingers, revealing dark eyes, pouty pink lips, and the sweetest nose I'd ever seen.

Hi everyone! Here is a new part of the story with sweet moments between the boys 🥰😊 and some angst from the past.

Have a nice week! 🙂

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Nicholas Ruffilo

Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Angst, Past character death, Suicidal thoughts

Tags: M/M, M/F, Slow burn, Childhood friends, Friends to lovers, Family drama, Band fic, Masturbation, Accidental Voyeurism

Word Count: 4.4k

Cross-posted: AO3

7.

The next morning we had a small breakfast and packed up before we left. I quickly got rid of the rental car at the nearest drop-off point and we drove most of the way in Noah's car. We listened to music, Noah singing Taylor Swift while drumming his tattooed fingers on the steering wheel, and I watched him sleepily out of the corner of my eye, my head resting on the headrest of the seat. It was especially good that I didn't have to drive much, because I didn't sleep well that night. Although I reassured myself that nothing had happened - and this was also confirmed by the fact that Noah showed the same - negative emotions still swirled in me. Guilt that Maya deserves better than me. I'm afraid one wrong word or touch and I'll lose Noah because there's no attraction worth even risking our friendship for. I started whipping myself over and over when I thought about it. I can't act so stupid, I'm a grown man who has been in a serious relationship for almost eight months now, not a stupid little teenager who has no idea about the world. 

“Everything is alright? You're very quiet today," Noah remarked, turning down the radio, keeping his eyes on the road.

“I slept badly,” I answered in a hoarse, sleepy voice, and at least I didn't lie to him with that.

“We will stop at the next gas station. I'll buy you a coffee,” he promised and smiled kindly at me, which I tried to return.

"I might not be the best company today," I said apologetically.

“You don't have to talk to be good company,” he looked at me sideways from under his sunglasses. "It calms me down when you're near me," he added much more quietly.

I pursed my lips, closed my eyes under my sunglasses, and wished he wouldn't be so nice to me all the time. It was as if his comment had fueled that strange feeling in me, which was pleasant, but I had to suppress it as soon as possible, because it would only cause my loss in the long run. 

After a few minutes we pulled into a gas station parking lot, but Noah didn't get out of the car immediately. He unbuckled his seat belt, took a deep breath, and turned to me.

“I would like to apologize for my behavior yesterday,” he began, which immediately made me pay attention to him, and suddenly the dream escaped my eyes. “My morning wasn't the best, and then…” he shook his head, causing his hair to fall into his eyes “and then Karin called me saying she wanted to meet.”

Oh. I didn't expect him to talk about it, even though I could have learned by now that if I gave him enough time, sooner or later he would pour his heart out.

“What did you say to her?” I asked breathlessly.

“I said it's over. Everything, that was between us.”

My mouth twisted into a proud smile.

“I think you made the right decision. You've already finished it once, there would be no point to continue and hurt each other.”

"Yeah…" he said thoughtfully.

I swallowed the thoughts of how badly the girl had affected him, and that he could find a thousand better women than her if he wanted to, because I really didn't really know what kind of mental state he was in, and I felt that it would not be constructive at that moment. 

“If you want to talk about this or anything else, I will be happy to listen to you at any time,”I said instead of my judgmental thoughts. Noah's grateful look made it worth it.

“Thank you. I don't know how to thank you for caring so much about me.”

“For a start a big cappuccino will do,” I joked with him to lighten both of our melancholic moods. Noah smiled but still didn't go. I could see he wanted to speak about something else.

“About what happened in the afternoon… I think it's also due to my fucked up mood.”

I blinked a few times and remembered our conversation two days before when we slept in the same room after stargazing and Noah apologized even then, though he didn't say exactly why. I felt that it would be no different now, but something told me that it would be better for both of us if I didn't mess this up. Besides, I felt equally responsible.

"Yesterday afternoon was particularly good," I said honestly, because no matter how messed up the ending was, we laughed and talked a lot before it, everything was almost the same as before.

Noah pushed his sunglasses on top of his head and scanned my face.

“So isn't that why you're in a bad mood?”

I'm in a bad mood because we almost kissed in the lake, completely attached to each other's bodies? Because I almost cheated on my girlfriend with my best friend? Or because I loved every minute when our bodies touched? Is the reason for this messed up mood that I get into the room, half lying on the floor, because my cock was throbbing so much after hearing his moans that I didn't even have the opportunity to sit on the bed? Or because of all the fucking sexy things my brain was creating and he was the main character in all of them? I have no idea what exactly the question was about.

“I'm tired, I could sleep here in the car, only my neck would hurt,” I answered. “Tomorrow, after a long sleep, everything will be much better.”

I really believed in this, because when I'm rested, it's much easier to cope with any test that life throws at me. Maybe I felt tired and bored, that was just a bad move and I could screw everything up - if I haven't done it yet - but tomorrow, fresh, I will definitely see things in a better light. 

"Okay," Noah agreed thoughtfully, then grabbed his wallet and hopped out of the car. “A cappuccino, as you said. Anything else?” he asked with a smile as he leaned in the door.

“A chocolate chip cookie, please.”  I returned his smile when he nodded. 

He put on his sunglasses and pulled the hood of his hoodie over his head. While he went into the store, I got out to stretch my legs and smoke a cigarette. 

I was already getting back in the car when I saw Noah exit the small shop at the gas station and start heading back, but it seemed I wasn't the only one who noticed. He was stopped by a middle-aged woman with long red hair and a younger girl. I could tell by their body language how excited they were when they started talking. His presence has probably made their day better, but maybe even their whole week. I watched him as he bent down a little so the height difference would not be too disturbing, as he smiled restrainedly, but kindly, and paid attention to them. I felt a pleasant feeling move in my chest because I was in such an advantageous position that I could receive this attention at any time. Noah nodded, then smiled as they took a few selfies, he held the phone with his long arm. He pulled his hoodie up over his forearms, the muscles on which were tense and his dark tattoos glistened in the sunlight. His hair fell forward as they checked to see if the pictures were okay, and I wondered if I had ever felt as much desire for another man as I did for him. The answer was clearly no. 

In high school, we were told a thousand times that we were gay because of our long hair and eccentric style, but I never seriously thought about the possibility, because for me the girls were interesting enough, anyone could say anything. Our friends also looked at us strangely when they found out that I lived with my best friend, but they didn't ask about it too much. Did Noah feel the same way? I remember a long time ago, at a party, he kissed a guy, but it was just a silly, drunken challenge, not a real kiss, and it didn't last more than a few seconds. He always had girlfriends and it never occurred to me that he might even be bisexual. And then there was Noah's mom…who loved to attack our friendship and all the good things that happened to her son.

It all started when two boys started teasing Noah at school, and one of my friends and I listened to it all. They made rude comments about his hair and figure, and when that didn't get enough of an impact and reaction, they started teasing him about having Asian blood in his veins. He was told that it was indeterminate whether he was a boy or a girl, just like in Japanese anime. I think this was the point where even though I hated conflict, I had to step in because I absolutely loved anime. And I didn't understand why you couldn't leave a boy alone who just wanted to write his homework. 

It only took a couple of well-selected sentences from Davis and a few condescending glances from me to make the young boys go away in defeat. They wisely decided that it was pointless to confront the three of us, especially since my friend and I were several years older. We had a fist-bump with Davis, who immediately left for class, and only then did I turn to the boy, who got up from the bench and started packing his things back into his bag. His hair fell into his face as he leaned forward, his movements looking nervous. I've never been the type to initiate acquaintances. I hated big company and could only really open up to a small circle of friends, but… I felt I had to open up to him. Little did I know then that I was making the best decision of my life. 

“By the way, I'm Nicholas,” I tried to lighten his mood a little. “My friends usually just call me Nick.”

The boy finally stopped and slowly turned towards me. He brushed his hair away from his face with long, thin fingers, revealing dark eyes, pouty pink lips, and the sweetest nose I'd ever seen.

"I could have dealt with them alone," he declared instead of introducing himself. I wasn't mad at him though, I knew he was still in passive aggressive defense mode.

“I know,” I answered and smiled cautiously. I didn't want him to feel like I was laughing at him. “But I am desperately collecting friends who like anime.”

With this, I managed to remove some of the storm clouds from his face.

“How many friends do you have like that, Nick?” he asked with interest, tilting his head slightly to the side.

“I hope you will be the first,” I answered honestly, for which I received a bright smile in response.

"Noah," he said, twisting his fingers, turning his gaze to the ground. "I mean, that's my name," he added, laughing nervously, looking up at me again. 

"Noah," I said his name, just to know how it felt. I loved it. 

In the weeks that followed, Noah easily fit into my group of friends. No one really noticed that he was three years younger than us. Even then he was almost as tall as me, and much more mature than his age would have suggested.

The summer holidays were approaching, the students were less and less focused on studying and wanted to stay more and more outdoors. I couldn't wait for the bell to ring from our last class on Friday and it would be the weekend. Not because I wanted to party - I've never been a party animal - but so that I can finally get a good night's sleep and draw as much as I like. I was decorating the edge of my notebook throughout math class, and when the bell finally rang, I was one of the first to get up, threw my things into my bag, said goodbye to the two boys I had been friends with for years, and stepped out into the hallway. Noah was leaning against the railing waiting for me, drinking a can of Coke and smiling when he saw me.

"Thanks for waiting," I told him as we walked out of the building. “This math class was dead boring.”

"I can't say that this was the most exciting day of my life either," he answered, smoothing his shoulder-length brown hair behind his ears. “But maybe it will get better from now on.”

“For sure. It is even more fun to sit in the church and listen to the teacher about nonsense.”

"Brr, don't even mention the church," he said with disgust on his face. I laughed to myself as he wrinkled his freckled nose, pursed his lips, and was visibly sick of even the thought. He said that his grandparents, with whom he lived, were very religious and forced him to participate in church work, even if it’s about repairs or fundraising.

We walked down to the front of the building when a bunch of young boys turned to us and giggled as we passed them. I saw in Noah that he was uncertain for a fleeting moment, but then he kept his head up and walked confidently.

“You shouldn't show off with me,” he remarked when we left the gate. “You must have noticed that I am not the most popular student.”

“Don't think I'm afraid of your classmates in diapers,” I snorted, touching my pockets. I couldn't wait to finally light a cigarette. I found the box with the lighter inside and took out a cigarette. I noticed Noah reach out his hand as well, causing my eyebrows to rise to the center of my forehead.

“What is that?” Noah asked.

“Aren't you too young for that?”

He just rolled his eyes, then grabbed my wrist where I was holding the box and took out a cigarette. He lit it with practiced movements and blew the first puff of smoke into my face, making me roll my eyes. 

“Just because you're older, you don't have to play the adult.”

“Just because I smoke is not an example to be followed,”I retorted, but I couldn't take this conversation seriously either, and by the end we both laughed at each other.

“Don't worry, I already smoked before I met you.”

“Huh,” I squeezed my hand dramatically towards my chest. “Now a huge stone fell from my heart. I was already beginning to think that I had led you into trouble during our short acquaintance.”

“My grandparents won't be coming home until Sunday,” Noah explained as we got to their house. I looked up at the two-story building, which was surrounded by a large, well-kept garden, and nodded approvingly. It was the first time I visited them, only three weeks had passed since we met in the schoolyard.

"I guessed you were a little prince," I said with feigned seriousness. The house was about twice the size of the one I lived in with my parents and four siblings. Noah snorted, but didn't answer anything, he just opened the door with his key, and then we entered the hall one after the other. Even next to the coat hanger, the face of Jesus greeted me on the wall. It seemed that Noah was not exaggerating when he spoke about his grandparents' religiosity. I kicked off my shoes and continued to look around while Noah struggled with his tangled shoelaces.

“Who is she?” I asked, pointing to a beautiful woman in one of the paintings. Her brown hair was at least down to her waist and she wore a blood red cloak over her long dress which she held in her hands at her chest.

"Mary Magdalene," Noah answered as he straightened up. “She…”

"Many people believe that she was Jesus' lover," said a woman's voice behind us, and we both turned on our heels in surprise. "Hello, I'm Noah's mother, Elizabeth," the owner of the voice extended her hand to me with a soft smile on her lips. Her light brown hair was tied back in a bun, her nails were painted bright pink, and she wore a short black dress that showed off her long thighs. She looked barely over thirty, I would never have guessed she was Noah's mother. I would have guessed it was his sister.

“Good afternoon. I'm Nicholas,” I shook her hand politely. Her skin was hot and slightly clammy, her grip strong. Then we both turned to Noah, who was standing with his arms crossed in front of his chest, not moving.

“Don't you welcome your mother?” asked the woman, raising the glass filled with whiskey she was holding to her mouth with a smile.

“Why are you here? “Noah asked, but his voice was barely above a whisper.

“I don't have the right to visit my son?” Since Noah didn't appreciate any reaction, she drained the rest of the drink from her glass and continued: “Your grandmother mentioned that you will be alone. I thought this would be the perfect time to get back together.”

When Noah told me about his bad relationship with his mother, I thought they didn't get along because of some sort of teenage rebellion. I never thought that Noah could act so cold with someone when I got to know him so friendly and kind in the last few weeks. 

I followed him up the stairs with furrowed brows as he started without saying a word to his mother. When we entered his room, he immediately locked the door and collapsed on the bed, broken. 

“I'm sorry, I didn't know she would be here.”

“It's okay,” I reassured him immediately and fell down next to him. "She doesn't seems that bad," I added, but I saw that pained smile on Noah's face that I haven't been able to get out of my head since, and I kept seeing it in my mind as his mother stabbed him in the back over and over again just to see him suffer. 

I stood up and walked over to the bookshelf to look through his manga. He said he would be happy to lend me any of them if I wanted to read them, and I chose two. Afterwards, I sat back next to him and we were talking about school, when my sketchbook, in which I used to draw, came up.

“Shall I show you?” I asked Noah. His face lit up as he nodded, so I reached for the ceiling and pulled my t-shirt over my head. Noah leaned very close to my shoulder, which was decorated with a fresh tattoo. My first tattoo, a beautifully crafted bird wing.

“I want to tattoo my entire arm,” I explained to him, while he touched my skin, as if he wanted to test whether it feels different over the tattoo. - I designed this too, and if I collect the money for it, we will continue. Maybe one day I'll be a tattoo artist, who knows…”

Noah nodded and struggled to break his gaze to look up at me.

“Your drawings are very good, there is no doubt that you have a talent for it,” he said honestly. “I want a tattoo too.” He bit his lip as he thought. Then he slowly pulled up his t-shirt and placed his index finger on one of the small scars on his chest.

“Do you think these could be covered? There was this car accident and… I broke a few ribs, and then in the hospital they put tubes in… here too,” he smoothed a hand over the side of his chest. “Although the doctors said that it will almost completely disappear by the time I grow up, I still want something on it.”

I didn't know that particular accident was so serious that he lost his father and everyone died except him. I had no idea, it had been many months have passed before he told me about that summer day.

 

“They can surely make it disappear,” I answered him, while my gaze involuntarily fell on his ribs, which almost pierced his skin. Noah might have noticed because he quickly readjusted his shirt and wrapped his arms around himself defensively. I hated myself for making him uncomfortable, it was the last thing I wanted. I also put on my t-shirt and smiled at him from under my eyelashes.

“Can I have some tea now?” I referred to his offer from half an hour before. Noah nodded enthusiastically, and while he ran down to the kitchen, I picked up one of the manga and started flipping through the pages. He left the door ajar, so I heard him approach cautiously after five minutes, probably to avoid spilling the contents of the mug on himself. I looked down at the bottom of the page I was reading, noted the page number, and closed the book. Then I heard Noah's mother's voice. His speech was slurred, I could tell even though he was half-whispering.

“Your grandmother must be proud of you for being gay. She must be happy to tell it in church.” The smile immediately melted from my face and I sat frozen on the bed. “Look at me when I talk to you!” Elizabeth didn't even try to suppress her voice.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Noah said quietly. His voice was laced with pleading and fear. My throat tightened. “Please…”

“More about who. Nicholas, if I remember his name correctly. Why would you bring a boy here and shut him up in your room?”

“Nick is my friend.”

“Who would want to be friends with you, baby?” asked the woman almost regretfully. “You are so naive, Noah. Everyone has an ulterior motive.”

My hands were clenched into fists, my blood pressure skyrocketed, and yet I didn't move. I was held back by my good upbringing, by the fact that my parents taught me to be obedient to adults. Later, I regretted a thousand times that I didn't stand by Noah and get him out of that family right away. That place was equal to hell on earth. I heard a door close and Noah finally entered the room. His hands were shaking, the tea between his fingers spilled onto the floor, but his face remained completely emotionless. I jumped off the bed and took the mug from him so he wouldn't drop it. This time, I locked the door and took out a pocket of tissue from my bag. He accepted without a word, wiped his hand, then threw it away and we sat next to each other on the bed.

"If you don't feel like staying, I won't be mad if you go home," he said without looking at me. He knew I heard every word of the conversation. His fingers dug into his thighs and his face went completely pale. I didn't really know what to do in such a situation. I felt uncomfortable, I was angry, but I wanted to help him feel good again. This was the most important thing, because over the weeks I slowly began to become completely addicted to his smile. I put the tea on the table and turned to him.

“Would you like me to go home?” I asked him because I had to know what he wanted.

Noah finally looked up at me. Unshed tears glistened in his eyes, his lips trembled. 

“No. I want you to stay.”

His voice was childish, not the confident teenager I knew from school. I quickly realized that it was just a disguise, but I was relieved to hear his answer, because I would not have liked to leave him alone with that woman.

“Then I'll stay,” I answered and slowly smiled. It took a few seconds for him to return the smile, and even though it didn't quite reach his eyes, I was satisfied with that. “Which anime would you like?” I stood up and started watching the DVDs packed under the TV.

“Choose something. Surprise me,” he replied with a slight challenge in his eyes.

It was the first and last time we went to their place after school. Afterwards, we always ended up at our house, and Noah didn't seem bothered by my loud brother, my hysterical little sisters, or the fact that the hot water kept running out late at night and we were forced to take cold showers if we were immersed in the conversation. If the milk ran out in the morning, he made his porridge with water and didn't complain if we had toast for lunch. I noticed how strange it was when mom or I hugged him. Like he doesn't know what to do with it all and is confused. But it only took a few weeks for all of that to change and he almost started demanding touches. 

Noah walked to the car and turned back to make sure no one was following him before getting in. I followed his approaching steps with half-closed eyes, trying to figure out what had changed. Where was the tipping point when I started finding him attractive. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't figure it out and that only made me more frustrated. Noah got in and handed me the coffee and the paper bag, then pulled the hood off his head. 

“I hope it didn't get too cold,” he said with an apologetic smile.

I tiredly returned his smile and handed the biscuit back to him.

“Half of it is yours. And thank you.”

He didn't argue for a second that I wanted to share the dessert with him. He began to eat the cookie with gusto, while I drank my coffee thoughtfully.

“Noah…we'll be fine, right?” I suddenly asked out of nowhere. My voice sounded so scared that I was surprised by it. 

He looked at me confused, with a small crumb on his mouth that I was tempted to wipe off, but luckily he licked it off before I could move. He swallowed the bite and looked deep into my eyes. 

“Whatever happens, we will always be here for each other. You are the only sure point in my life. Believe me, I will do everything to be your sure point.”

I nodded and closed my eyes again. I think that was enough to make me feel better, if only a little.

[celestiarambles]

Hitmen Have Feelings Too

Hii this is my contribution to JoMarina Week 2024! I'm posting this now because it's actually January 6 here in my country xD

Just a disclaimer, I have never been to a bar nor to India, so what happens in this one-shot may or may not be accurate

I apologize for any mistakes in the chapter. I hope you enjoy! (I actually enjoyed writing this lmao)

JoMarina Week 2024 Day 6 - Bonds

Summary: When Carmen takes some of the Bureau members out for a much-needed break after the disasters in India, Marina and Jonah drunkenly bond with each other, making Marina realize that Jonah wasn’t as bad as she thought he’d be.

Also cross-posted on Ao3: Hitmen Have Feelings Too - celestiamirasol - Criminal Case (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own]

Marina knows how beautiful she is. Her coworkers tell her that everyday, and men would immediately tell her how smitten they are with her even when they just met.

However whenever she looks at the huge scar on her neck caused by the assassination attempt she survived years ago, she would constantly think otherwise.

It’s the only thing that catches her attention whenever she would look at herself in the mirror. No kind of concealer could even cover it up. Screw it. Once she finishes up her makeup, she grabs one of her scarves on her dresser and wraps it around her neck, adjusting every fold to make sure no inch of the scar could be seen.

“Marina!” Carmen knocks on her door. “You ready to go?”

“Just a second!”

After solving a murder in Bollywood, India, Carmen and Athena invited the Bureau for some drinks for them to finally relax after the previous events that transpired recently, but only her, Angela, and Jonah decided to come along with them. Jack wanted to hang out with Lars (even though Lars was busy with his book, The Flashing Light), Ingrid declined due to work, Ripley just simply didn’t want to and Dupont was trying to learn how to play cricket. Elliot wanted to come along, but Carmen didn’t allow him to since he was underage.

When they arrived at a bar in Mumbai (whose people were able to quickly pick themselves up due to the recent flooding), the place was decently packed with people, with performers playing Bollywood music, making its nightlife alive even though the sun was only about to set.

Occasions like this are rare for the Bureau due to the demands of their job, so Marina rarely gets to drink. She doesn’t like drinking on the job, for it makes her even more stressed. But once she gets the chance to, she immediately seizes it. 

“We deserve this, guys.” Athena says as she comes back with Carmen, both setting down various bottles of alcohol on the table. “When I was still a cop in Pacific Bay, we would usually go out and bond with drinks after a major case.”

“I guess we just don’t do it after what happened with the chief back then in Spain…” Carmen sighed, pouring a drink. She then slides it over to Angela. “So Angela, what’s the deal with Lars and that book? Has he finally found that spiritual enlightenment?”

Angela accepts the shot glass. The golden wedding ring shimmering in her finger caught Marina’s attention. “I don’t know, I still haven’t been able to talk any sense into him. Ever since he started reading that book, he’s been raving about the flashing light. At first, I just thought that he meant the bulb in his lab was broken. But then I realized it was the name of the guru’s book!” She quickly downs the shot. “It’s like he’s been indoctrinated!”

Being the psychologist of the team, Marina would usually help and offer advice to her teammates as a friend. However, she couldn’t think of any sensible advice to give somehow. There’s a reason why she chose to specialize in criminal psychology instead of marriage counseling, after all. All she could say was, “Maybe it’s his way of coping after his near death experience?”

“Oh. definitely.”

As the coroner continued to rant about her husband (with the agents trying to butt in with some advice along the way), she noticed how Jonah, the only guy in the group, was only simply intently listening. Or he was probably trying to. His ice cold eyes stared off at the distance, swirling the liquor in his glass before downing it, then would occasionally pour himself another one. He probably doesn’t understand the topic at hand. Why would he? Marina thought. Based on her psychoanalysis back then, hitmen like him aren’t capable of basic human empathy. Would he even be able to understand the concept of love? To her, they’re all psychopaths.

“Well, maybe we can leave early and you and Lars could have a date night together. We have the night off, after all.” Carmen suggested, smiling at her.

 To Marina’s surprise, Jonah suddenly spoke up after being silent the whole time. “Yeah… maybe this time, you can properly communicate your feelings with him. It’s best for you two to open up to each other as a married couple, after all.”

“Well, I understand that the recent occurrences were traumatic to both of us… but I’ve tried my best to communicate with him. He’s been only focusing on that book he’s been reading. He wouldn’t even look at me.” Angela downed another shot. “I just want him to at least talk to me, tell me how he’s feeling…”

“We were all so busy with the recent disasters here in India, he probably hasn't fully understood what he’s feeling, so like what Marina said, turning to the guru is his way of trying to process things. At least try to understand that, and Lars should understand that you’re trying to reach out to him. Understanding’s the key to forgiveness, after all.`` Somehow, Marina could feel that Jonah’s gaze has shifted to her for a different reason. And whatever reason it may be, she didn’t like it.

“Wow Jonah, are you drunk already?” Athena laughed. “I didn’t know you could get so philosophical like that.”

“He has a side like that.” Carmen smirked, taking a sip of her drink.

She didn’t know that Jonah’s presence could annoy her even more. Why the hell did this blockhead decide to even come with us? She downed her drink and grimaced at how the liquor permeated in her throat.

After a few shots with the group, Marina decides that she had enough of Jonah’s existence and separates from them, heading straight to the bar. She called the bartender over, unconsciously twirling her hair. “Could you give me… a drink that could best describe how you think of me?”

During the rare occasions that they get to visit bars, this was Marina’s favorite game to play. She was enthralled by the raw, authentic atmosphere in bars, especially on how people wear their heart on their sleeves after getting drunk, in which they begin to show their real selves. She believes that everyone hides in a facade. And she was interested to know what bartenders would think of her so-called facade.

With a blush on his face, the bartender agreed and got to work, with Marina watching. After mixing and shaking the contents, he then poured a colorful liquid onto a shot glass, then he grabbed a lighter and set the alcohol aflame. “Sweet and feisty, just like you. And with a hint of vodka, too.”

Amused, Marina took a spoon to diffuse the flame. “Is it that obvious?”

“Your Russian accent? Definitely. It makes you hotter, may I add.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Oldest trick in the book. Once the flame was smothered, she downed the drink. She could taste the heat in her mouth, but there was definitely a hint of sweetness to it.

“How is it?” “Do we have a problem, buddy?” Like a menacing guard dog, Jonah approached the bar and glared at the bartender, holding a bottle of whiskey. Intimidated by his rugged look, the bartender immediately scurried over to the next customer.

Great. The psychologist frowned as the weapons expert sat next to her. She looked away from him, refusing any contact with him as possible.

But he insisted. “Hey.”

“Otyebis.” She muttered in Russian.

“So uh… why did you leave us?” His intimidating aura somehow dissipated, like this time he’s the one intimidated by Marina.

“Because I hate your face.” Jonah frowned and set down the bottle of whiskey on the bar counter.  “Well, you never accepted the amulet I tried to give you…”

“That’s because an amulet won’t fix anything.”

“Well… could a drink at least fix something?” He grabbed Marina’s shot glass and filled it with liquor.

“Most definitely not.” She rolled her eyes. “You could’ve poisoned that.”

“Why would I even do that?” “You tried to do it once, maybe you’re here in the Bureau because you’re still out to get me!”

He chuckled in response. “You have quite the creative imagination, sweetheart. I shoot my targets, I don’t poison them. And I told you, I never miss a shot.”

“I remember that. And I also remember you telling me you purposely missed because you thought I was beautiful. What, were your previous targets hideous?”

“I-it’s not that, I swear!” Jonah blushed. “Normally, my targets are ordered to be killed because they’re threats. A danger to society. Take Omar Bahir for example, if I hadn’t killed him, Carmen and Athena would’ve been the ones dead. But you Marina… from the moment I saw you, I had a feeling you didn’t deserve to die. And I was right. You shouldn’t be the one to pay for exposing their crimes.” Unconsciously, Marina picked up the glass of whiskey and took a swig, the memory of her assassination attempt still fresh in her mind. How the bullet flew in the air in less than a second, giving her no time to dodge, and the color of the wintry blue sky in Russia as she laid helpless and bleeding on the Russian snow, too weak to call out for help.

As a psychologist and a criminal profiler, she would know whether a suspect was lying or not, the inner machinations of her mind, and a higher level of understanding and empathy. The Bureau only hires the best, and she is deemed the best in their eyes. But Jonah… she couldn’t see through him. Or maybe it’s because she refuses to.

Are hitmen really capable of having human empathy?

The funky and exotic Bollywood music overpowered the silence of the two as they took turns pouring and drinking their glasses of whiskey. Both of them didn’t know what to say, nor what to do.

Feeling awkward, Jonah scratched his neck. “I know sorry won’t fix what’s done… but I truly am sorry, Marina. I don’t know how to make it up to you.”

Then as if the alcohol began to take complete control of her body, Marina grabbed Jonah’s shot glass and she almost overflowed it with whiskey as she poured it. “You can start by taking a shot for me.”

“What?”

Her lips formed a playful smirk. “Hit or miss.” Jonah shook his head and downed it, some of the liquid spilling on his shirt. “Is that… all you want me to do?” His words were slurring.

“Ha!” The psychologist laughed loudly. “You’re already drunk!” “So are you.” He chuckled lightly to himself.

Suddenly, the alcohol made Marina forget her previous animosity towards Jonah. She didn’t know how long they stayed chatting drunkenly in the bar, but she was surprised at how similar they actually were.

“You actually took Psychology too?!” She was shocked, but her drooping eyes prevented her from expressing it.

Jonah nodded. “I actually planned to go to med school, but then I got enlisted in the army and then my focus just shifted. It actually comes in handy during hostage situations, I was glad I was at least able to finish it.”

Another conversation then opened up once Marina offered to check out the amulet that Jonah wanted to give her so badly. “So this thing symbolizes forgiveness?”

“Uh yeah, just like what that Dupont said.” She smiled. “I’m actually quite interested in cultural trinkets like these. It’s one of the things that I look forward to whenever we go to different places for missions.” “So… does that mean you forgive me?”

The amulet glimmered in her hands as Marina contemplated his question. “...Not until we dance first.” “Wha - hey!” Jonah had little time to process what the psychologist said as she pulled him to the dance floor of the club. She then broke away to shimmy along to the smooth tunes of the trumpets and drums. “C’mon… don’t tell me you don’t know how to dance?”

A smile slowly spread across his face as he awkwardly stepped side to side and bobbed his head to the beat, watching Marina drunkenly dance. Catching his lack of dance moves, Marina shook her head and took his hand once again. “That’s not how you dance…”

She attempted to spin him. Jonah twirled regardless of their height difference, laughing at Marina’s enthusiasm. “...that’s how you dance!” She yelled.

The two then laughed, jumped and swayed along to the music, their playful dance moves drastically clashing with the dramatic and funky mood of the music. Jonah then pulled Marina closer to him. 

While the blood orange sun sunk on the horizon, the air became hot yet invigorating at the same time. Something seemingly put them on a high they can’t back down, and it wasn’t the alcohol.

Then like a magnet touching a metal surface, the two kissed.

It was like they were the only ones there at the bar. Marina closed her eyes, lost in the moment, while Jonah placed his hand on her shoulder, longing to get closer to her. But by accident, he made her scarf slip and her huge scar was now then exposed to the world. To Jonah.

Feeling the hot air turn chilly and breezy, Marina then pulled away to see her scarf on the floor. It made her snap out of the drunken trance she was in.. 

Jonah’s eyes widened at the huge scar, realizing where she got it. “Marina…”

“Get away from me!” She picked up her scarf and then ran away, stumbling a bit. Jonah didn’t know whether to chase after her or not, but he still did, worried that something might happen to her if she got away from his sight.

“Marina, I’m sorry!” “No!” Marina ran outside, where she accidentally bumped into Athena, whose phone was in her ear, looking a bit confused.

Athena lowered her phone and ended the call. “Marina, I was trying to call you -” “Marina, please, I didn’t mean to -” “NO!” Marina grabbed Athena’s hand. “Stay away from me, and never talk to me again!” He then turned to Athena for help, who just sighed. “Carmen and Angela headed out earlier, Angela wanted to try and talk some sense into Lars again… I suggest you sit in the front of the cab later, Jonah.”

Once they were able to haul a cab, Marina was the first to go inside the back seat, trying to distance herself from Jonah as far as possible inside a small cab. Frowning, Jonah did what Athena said and sat in front. 

“So… what did Jonah do?” Athena asked once she was sure that the weapons expert was asleep after a few minutes.

Staring out the window, Marina contemplated how to respond. Both of them were drunk, so she didn’t know whether both of them mutually consented to that kiss or not. She didn’t know (or maybe remember) if they actually enjoyed the kiss. Marina wanted to hate it, but the foggy memories of the things Jonah told her about him, his interests, the guilt in his eyes when he saw her scar…

Is there really something more to Jonah than assassinations and murder?

For a whole week, she’d been thinking about it. Ever since the kiss, Jonah never attempted to approach her again. He would avoid her gaze whenever they’re both in the breakroom while Marina reaches for a bag of tea. He wouldn’t look at her during briefings or emergency meetings with the Bureau either. Whatever eagerness was first there trying to make up with her before was now replaced with hesitance and fright.

A cup of tea in her hand, Marina sighed once again while thinking about Jonah. It felt embarrassing for her to admit he has been on her mind ever since they kissed.

She knew she wasn’t overreacting, so she didn’t need to apologize. Any person would react like that if they ever survived an assassination attempt before. She’d even think it was Stockholm Syndrome given that he held her captive before, but no, she wasn’t like that… 

Her previous animosity towards him turned into curiosity. The previous psychological analysis she conducted towards him was on her desk. It indicated her perception towards him as an aggressive, dangerous individual with volatile instability… previously, she’d immediately thought he wasn’t to be trusted. Her instincts were never wrong, after all… 

However, he refused to kill her. He had principles, he wasn’t easily blinded by the money nor the task at hand. He could’ve chosen to kill her without any further questions, but he chose not to. And somehow, he brought along the guilt of almost killing her all this time.

Maybe there’s a chance I was wrong about him.

Knock, knock. Marina turned to her office door. “Come in!”

The door opened to reveal Athena. It made Marina a bit disappointed, hoping it was Jonah. “Hey, Lars is inviting us to the monastery since he’s going to renew his vows with Angela there. Wanna come?”

“Uh, sure, definitely.” Maybe it’d help her take her mind off of Jonah for a bit.

But it didn’t. As the Bureau watched the happy couple kiss amidst the orange rays of the sunset, it only reminded Marina of their own kiss. And why she chose criminal psychology instead of marriage counseling.

“I am so happy that Angela and Lars have made it through all these hard times, Athena…” She whispered to the agent beside her.

“Definitely. I hope their marriage will keep staying strong.”

“Me too…” She heard Jonah say, who was on Athena’s other side. “Marriage is hard work. It takes guts to forgive…”

“Speaking of forgiveness…” Marina spoke up and turned to Jonah’s direction. This time, there was no alcohol influencing her. It’s simply her own conscience. “Jonah, I've had time to think... about how you disobeyed your orders to kill me… Maybe I should get a better understanding of your side of the story... over some tea?”

“Tea? With me?” Jonah’s eyes widened, the blush evident in his face. “Uh, sure! Just say when.”

She laughed in response, hoping to bond with Jonah, their hearts finally on their sleeves. Without any liquor. “...When.”

[baileys-3]

CHAPTER 20 ONLINE on AO3

So, 5 days of alternating shifts begin this chapter. Let's see how our two deal with it.

Then thanks again to Cookies for beta reading. You are awesome. Because she always has a proofread and not only reads over it quickly, but also makes sure that everything is always true to character. Invaluable.

Then the current status: I started chapter 28 yesterday and am in the middle of it. Somehow everything always turns out to be longer and more detailed than expected. I'm currently at 146,000 words.

Sneak Peak:

Tim's alarm clock rings and, as always, he is immediately wide awake. In his childhood, oversleeping was never an option, and as a soldier, he learned to react to every sound, even in his sleep. Every morning, he goes for an early run, following the same mechanical routine, with only breakfast occasionally varying. On this particular day, Kojo is not there, which means that he finishes earlier than usual.

He sends his sister another quick text to check whether dinner at hers is still on for tonight.

As he checks his phone, he notices some new messages in the group chat with his work friends. He realizes that one of the group admins, Angela, has renamed the group to "Mid-Wilshire Legends". After reading the messages more carefully, he learns that the group is discussing Nolan's birthday present, which happens to be a voucher for a paintball match. Nyla came up with the idea as Nolan's failure in the shooting arena, where he was distracted by a man in a diving suit, still gets teased. Everyone in the group plans to take part in the paintball match and then go to a restaurant together. Probably the only highlight for Nolan, because Tim won’t give him five minutes at the paintball arena. He will shoot him down personally.

The conversation is now all about finding a date when everyone has time. Which is not so easy, with a big group they have. He makes it easy for himself and basically takes Lucy's free dates and simply cross-checks his own calendar before posting the same list. That's that sorted.

Then he writes a quick message to Lucy.

Tim: If I'm on the team with Nolan, I'm out. Don't forget to nap before your shift. Otherwise, I'll have to order T-shirts again.

He looks at his watch and decides there's no point in hanging around at home any longer. He'd rather be at work earlier. Before he leaves the house, he takes another look at his combined dining and living room. He sees the cactus on his dining room table. He is now the proud owner of a plant. Lucy will water it. Or it will die. It's not his problem. He didn't even want it in the first place. He shakes his head and smiles. It's just like Lucy to do something like this. And it's just like him to be unable to say no to her. Comparing him to a cactus ... he has no words.

The day gets super stressful. He receives countless messages requesting him as a supervisor. So many that he can no longer fulfill them all and needs to prioritize. What on earth is going on in this city today?

The most inquiring case was the discovery of drugs during a traffic stop hid den in a bag that contained ready-made chicken. The man who was caught with it was so co-operative – or in other words, scared – that he gave up the dealer right away namely the seller from the roast chicken stall, who was captured quickly after that. Who not only offered his customers chicken, but also drugs. Wrigley was hailed as the hero of the day for conducting a traffic stop. Upon noticing a broken taillight on the car, he immediately became suspicious when he realized that the car did not carry the aroma of roast chicken, which it should have since the bag was on the passenger seat. This led to further investigation and Wrigley's quick thinking eventually uncovered something important. Good job.

Time flies as he rushes from one call to another. He writes a few messages to Lucy during his lunch break, like how the coffee in the break room tastes increasingly strange and that she should bring one from home. But then he is on the road again on his way to another call. At least he's back at the station before Lucy's shift starts. He is sitting at one of the desks reading Wrigley's report. It’s clear to him that Wrigley rarely writes reports like this. Reports about drug possession and intent to sell, so he needs to read the report carefully and can't just skim it through. He needs to make sure, that everything is documented correctly, and the prosecutors can’t refer to any procedural error later.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees someone place something on his desk. It's a coffee mug with the logo of one of his favorite coffee shops. He likes the place because they serve good black coffee. He can't exactly judge the rest because he's never really cared for any other offers there. He only drinks black coffee there. He is a simple man with simple needs, sue him. He looks up and sees Lucy standing next to his desk, already in uniform. Her smile warms his heart. And even more when he thinks about the fact that she took a detour just because of him, as the coffee shop in question is not on the direct route from her apartment complex to the station.

"Hey. How was your day?"

[miradanii]

MTMTE/LOST LIGHT First Time Read

Short time text text because it's 4am. I had to finish it...The Lost Light was short and I had 4 chapters left. Had heat exhaustion twice in one week, lack of sleep for days but I couldn't help but finish just so I can go back and reread parts I didn't understand/have an excuse to finally look up this comic without massive spoilers.

I had never read a lot of long ass comics. But wow have I just had a wild ride. I think it took maybe two and half months to read this? Maybe more. One of the few things I had difficulty with reading but pushed through because how captivated I was with the story and its insane cast of characters. I have tons of new favorites I will now create powerpoint slides to present to my friends now on how much I've enjoyed my time with them.

I am so thankful for the internet due to these comics being out of print. And my past self just happening to own volume 1 of Dark Cybertron and never donating it despite not fully understanding what it was until this year. I hope these comics get reprinted one day but I guess for now I'll hunt down copies because I think I want to do these comics a service by having physical copies...

Anyways I 100% recommend this series as a first time reader for reading any Transformers comics. It was pretty difficult at first but I got the hang of it for a while. Not sure it helped that I was already familiar with a lot of the characters already like Rodimus, Megatron, ect. ect. ect.

Here's a link to a reddit post about the order for reading MTMTE/Lost Light. Though, when you come to Dark Cybertron it comes it two volumes so you don't have to switch between MTMTE and RID issues. Like I said I have the physical copy for Volume 1 of Dark Cybertron but mistakenly went back to reading MTMTE and had not realized the issues were alternating.

The reddit post mentions it but I was dumb and didn't fully read it. I just kinda kept going to the next page with a jarring lack of information thinking a lot of stuff was happening off screen.

Immediate ending spoiler nonsense thoughts down below:

Yeah the ending note made me tear up. I am in the mist of consuming a lot of Transformers Media before Transformers One comes out...I had decided to read MTMTE because I think I wanted something that I felt when I watched Transformers Prime. More detail in the characters. I think I flipped when I found out Ratchet who I've seen 3 iterations of on tv has a love interest. Megatron and Optimus have like....just...yeah it's gay. Unhinge divorced but never married gay interactions, then there's more gay, then idk I just started learning more and more about it all from just doing research all for a powerpoint party I hosted and because it was my birthday I was able to go up to 45 minutes due to birthday privileges.

Like I can go from liking Megop to MiniMegs? Is that the ship name? Idk it's almost 5am. But it's not even about pairings at this point, I'm going on an insane fucking adventure. I'm reading this shit in a King's Hawaiian parking lot now being part of my core memory. Actually that part does have a pairing. I'm seeing this:

I went through emotional toil in a restaurant parking lot with my friends to see and not understand the shock I'm having after I get out of the car.

I understand the flowers. That's a fuck ton.

I technically got spoiled about who Rung actually was but it had been so long I actually was STILL shocked when I found out at around 3am. Though...I didn't know he fucking died. Guys he fucking died. I think he came back or its one of his children idk man he fucking died and there's a character with a very similar color palette to him in Cyberverse.

On a random note I guess they weren't that close but Im surprised there wasn't a conversation between Nautica and Chromedome about forgetting Skids in a sense of grief. And it just kinda happened to her...Though I am glad she was still prioritizing Velocity.

Okay so Terminus just dies off screen and Megatron never finds out that he gave him the wrong location?? Damn. But I guess it was no hard feelings when he reunited with the Lost Light so that's all fine and dandy.

This is the one of the few stories where I am proud bullshit with no further explanation reunites tragic lovers. This series lets me live. I mean there was a very simple explanation why Tailgate didn't fade away from Cyclonus' arms but when that moment happened I was like yeah fuck it let them be happy. Of course Kaput was gonna go Kaput but rip can't believe it had to get Tailgate involved.

Ah Anode and Lug were cute! I think it took me a bit to warm up to them but I think I start to like characters when they start having fun dynamics with the rest of the cast. Anode and Swerve pranking each other on the shrinking ship with all hell breaking loose with the rest of the Rod Squad is just...yeah that whole chapter was paced so well.

Okay Whirl didn't just win me over, he snatched my heart and made a clock out of it with his lil pincers. I love this fella. He's such a homie. Top 10 in my list of characters with best character growth.

Okay okay...so the ending right...I knew Ratchet died in the end. Or a portion of the end. But it still caught me off guard. Not to mention I thought Tailgate had died in the end too. I mean it was technically true. But still...ouch. I saw the panel with the Rodimus Star and thought it was so dumb. Had no idea that it was so much more impactful than I thought. Legit before knowing the context I thought Rodimus didn't want to give his most inner energon and gave a Rodimus Star instead. Oops.

I've seen panels of Minimus and Megatron interact and had no idea that it was from the final issue.

5:31am

This series has given me a small portion of joy I couldn't feel for the past few months without it. A boost in creativity and expanding a range of wow that's a lot of fucking insane shit that can happen and still be fun huh?

[attentive-dragon]

I'll remember it tomorrow

Thinking about that post I commented on, how a great idea will pop into a writer's head, and they might think "I don't have time to write that down today, but I'll remember it tomorrow." I learned the hard way that this way lies regret: I've lost more great story ideas this way. I've cultivated a habit of writing ideas down as soon as I can when I have them. This often means quickly typing something on my phone's notes app right after getting out of the shower, or recording a voice note in the car. It's a terrible feeling to know you had a really clever way of untying a particular Gordian Knot, or a really fun bit of dialogue, and just can't remember it anymore.

This has had some weird impacts on my writing process. I've already spoken elsewhere about how I finished a book (and was about a third of a way through its sequel) when I realized this wouldn't be book one in my series, but would stand as book four (probably.) So already my writing process is out of order. But: it gets worse than that.

I have my entire series planned out, more or less, all the way through an estimated thirteen books. Some of those books I have detailed outlines for. Some I have a couple paragraph summaries. Some just a sentence or two. But the overall arc of the entire series is something I've known for quite awhile, and some of the major events that will happen along the way are things I've already thought up.

So, sometimes my brain will deliver tidbits of those later stories to me, and I have to write them down immediately. Just the other day, a bit of conversation from what will probably be book 12 or 13 popped into my brain, and I had to write it down. I actually really like this little bit of dialogue, and when I finally (hopefully) get that far in my series, I'll be really excited to finally get to use it.

Because of all of this, the writing "progress" on my series is a bit odd. I keep making little side-trips into later books to add things as they come to me, and it means that later books often have a lot more completed than one might expect, considering I have yet to actually publish my first book in the series:

Book one ("The Yellow Earring") is complete, at 71260 words

Book two ("The Silver Sword") is about halfway done with 44427 words

So far, so good. However:

Book three has 27965 words written

Book four (as mentioned above) is complete with 145943 words (and this one obviously still needs much editing.)

Book five has 34846 words written so far

Book six has 6359 words, because I really needed to get a scene written that WOULD NOT LEAVE MY BRAIN ALONE

Book seven has about a thousand words written

Book eight has 6686 words, again, because the first chapter sat down one day in my brain and refused to leave until I acknowledged it.

And of course, the aforementioned short bit of dialogue that will probably go somewhere in a planned book 12 or 13.

There's a part of me that wants to be frustrated about this: after all, if I've written so many thousands of words in later books, couldn't I have better spent my time writing thousands more words in the book I'm currently working on?

I've learned to silence that frustration and embrace the process. One good example of why this works for me is actually in the book I'm currently working on though. I was still working on book one when a really clever idea came to me for something in book two, and I ended up writing an entire scene. It was months before I had finished book one, and gotten book two to the point where my characters finally arrived at that scene, but once they did, I was able to use that previously written scene skeleton as a framework to carry the story forward. If I hadn't written it down at the time, I may not have remembered what I'd wanted to do there, and there's a good chance what I would have written wouldn't have pleased me so much.

Everything I write will get used, eventually. At least, that's my hope. That scene from Book Two finally getting used seems to support this. I just need to trust that my brain knows what it's doing as it doles out these tidbits of story to me out of order - and I also need to make sure I'm making the time to intentionally write in my current book and not letting myself get carried away with things yet to come.

And maybe more importantly, I need to actually focus on the process of getting Book One published. My brain loves these bits of story, the tales they are all a part of, and the characters living within them. I'd like to think some other folks' brains will as well.