#Her every step is defined by this end point and always will be and always has been and it's haunting her so fucking bad

[seafoam-taide]

I love love love my dear Entropy I think about her all the time I love her <33 I have to write about her she is always in my thoughts. Don't click these tags open unless you really want to read them there is . There's lots. THERE WERE TOO MANY IT KILLED SOME OF THEM. WHY DIDN'T IT TELL ME TAG LIMIT I KEPT TYPUNG !!! That's so sad and I can't even put the rest that I typed up here bc I forgot it already because my brain fucking sucks. Whatever whatever whatever rahggg beams Entropy thoughts directly into your brain you know exactly what I mean now

[melanchoire]

UNLOCKED DOOR, LOCKED HEART ──── yu jimin.

── ( 🩷 ) years after being falsely accused of perversion, you walk in on your unclothed girlfriend, forcing you to confront your ingrained anxieties and rewrite a narrative defined by shame and misunderstanding.

pairing. soft dom!girlfriend!karina x sub!loser!fem reader

warning(s). cunnilingus, nipple play, praise titsucking.

word count. 3,4k

author's note. the request for this fic is right here.

the scent of jasmine and something vaguely expensive clung to the air as you stood outside karina’s apartment building. you pressed the buzzer, the metallic chime echoing in the sterile lobby. “hey, babe! door’s unlocked, come on up!” you take a deep breath, smoothing down the front of your shirt. this is it. you’re going to karina’s apartment, again. it’s been six months since you two started dating, and your heart still does a little flutter every time you see her name on your phone.

you push open the heavy glass door of the building and step into the opulent lobby. everything about karina’s life is opulent. her clothes, her car, this building… it’s a far cry from the cramped apartment you share with two roommates. you’ve never felt particularly envious of her wealth, but it does occasionally highlight the differences between you. you, the quiet, reserved girl with a past you’d rather forget, and her, the radiant, effortlessly charming social butterfly who seems to glide through life without a care.

the elevator ride is short, but your palms are already starting to sweat. the polished chrome reflected your anxious face back at you, the faint fluorescent light highlighting the shadows under your eyes. you always felt like an imposter in karina’s world, a world of sleek modern architecture, designer clothes, and effortless confidence. you, on the other hand, felt like a faded photograph, a relic from a past you desperately wanted to forget.

you step out onto the plushly carpeted hallway and find karina’s door ajar, just as she said. taking another deep breath, you push it open further and step inside.

“karina?” you call out hesitantly, your voice barely a whisper.

no answer. you close the door behind you and step further into the apartment. it’s even more breathtaking inside than you remember. floor–to–ceiling windows offer a panoramic view of the city, and the furniture looks like it belongs in a magazine.

that’s when you see her.

karina was standing in the living room, a goddess sculpted from steam and silk. her skin, flushed from the shower, glowed under the soft light. water droplets clung to the ends of her dark hair, cascading down her shoulders. and she was completely, breathtakingly naked.

your breath catches in your throat. time seems to warp and distort. you feel a jolt of panic, a cold wave washing over you that threatens to pull you under. she hasn’t seen you yet, still reaching for a fluffy white towel on the armchair.

she turned, a wide smile gracing her lips. “hey! i just hopped out of the shower.” she reached for a plush towel lying on the arm of the sofa, casually wrapping it around herself, but the image was already seared into your mind.

but you’re not smiling. you’re not even breathing properly. your breath hitched. the world seemed to tilt on its axis. a familiar panic surged through you, cold and clammy. your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence of the room. this wasn’t supposed to happen. you weren’t supposed to see this.

the memories slammed into you like a tidal wave. the whispers, the snickers, the pointed fingers in the hallways of your high school. the accusations thrown at you like stones, the constant feeling of being watched, judged, and found wanting. “lesbo.” they’d hissed, “pervert.” you’d become a pariah overnight, defined by a sexuality you hadn’t even fully understood yet. every glance felt like an accusation, every touch a potential violation.

you had become meticulously careful, hyper–aware of your surroundings, of your own body, of the invisible boundaries you felt compelled to erect. you avoided the women’s locker room like the plague. you walked with your head down, trying to disappear into the background. you flinched at casual touches.

and now, here you were, confronted with something so raw, so intimate, that it shattered the fragile peace you had painstakingly constructed.

karina’s smile faltered as she saw the look on your face. her brow furrowed with concern. “hey, are you okay? you look… pale.” she took a step towards you, her voice soft and gentle.

every nerve ending in your body is screaming at you to run, to disappear. you stumble backward slightly, your hand instinctively reaching for the doorknob. “i… i should go," you stammered, your voice barely a whisper.

you can’t speak. your throat is constricted, your lungs refusing to cooperate. you shake your head weakly, trying to communicate the unexplainable knot of anxiety that has taken root in your chest. shame burns in your cheeks. you’re supposed to be her girlfriend, not a frightened child.

karina closes the distance between you, her eyes filled with genuine worry. she reaches out and takes your hands, her touch warm and grounding. you flinch slightly, but she doesn’t let go.

“hey, look at me.” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “it’s okay. it’s just me. you’re safe here."

her words, simple as they are, cut through the fog in your mind. you open your eyes and focus on her face, on the genuine concern etched in her features. she’s not judging you, not laughing, not disgusted. she’s just… worried.

“i… i…”you stammer, struggling to find the words. “i’m sorry. i just… i panicked."

karina squeezes your hands. “it’s okay, baby. you don’t have to explain. just breathe with me."

she demonstrates, taking a deep, slow breath and holding it for a moment before releasing it. slowly, laboriously, you start to breathe again. the panic begins to recede, replaced by a heavy wave of exhaustion. you lean into karina’s touch, drawing strength from her presence.

karina’s expression softened, becoming even more tender. she understood. somehow, she understood. “hey, it’s okay," she soothed, reaching for your hand. her fingers were warm and reassuring against your cold skin. "it’s okay. come here.”

she led you to the sofa, gently guiding you to sit down. she knelt in front of you, her eyes filled with compassion. “what’s wrong? talk to me.”

finally, you manage to find your voice. “i… i have some bad experiences…” it comes out barely audible.

karina waits patiently, not pushing you to elaborate.

you take another deep breath and begin to tell her. you tell her about high school, about the casual cruelty and the constant fear of being exposed. you tell her about the rumors and the whispers, the feeling of being ostracized and vilified for something you couldn’t control–something you didn’t even fully understand then. you tell her about the locker room incident, the false accusations, the feeling of being branded as a pervert. you tell her about the years of hypervigilance, the constant anxiety that still lingers in the back of your mind.

as you speak, karina listens intently, her eyes never leaving your face. there’s no judgment in her gaze, only compassion and understanding. when you finally finish, breathless and emotionally drained, she pulls you into a warm embrace.

karina listened patiently, her gaze never wavering. when you were finished, she reached out and brushed a stray tear from your cheek. “oh, honey.” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “i had no idea. i’m so sorry you went through that. you didn’t deserve any of that."

you looked down, ashamed. “i should have told you.” you mumbled. “i didn’t want you to think… think i was like that.”

karina cupped your face in her hands, forcing you to meet her eyes. “hey.” she said firmly. “look at me. i don’t think that. i’d never think that. i know you. i know you’re kind and gentle and wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

her words were like a balm to your wounded spirit. you felt a tiny spark of hope flicker within you. maybe, just maybe, you could learn to trust again. maybe, with karina, you could finally let go of the fear that had haunted you for so long.

“you know you can always tell me anything, right?” she says softly. “i’m here for you, always. and i’d never, ever judge you.”

you nod, tears streaming down your face. “i know.” you whisper. “it’s just… hard."

“i understand.” she says, wiping away your tears with her thumbs. “but you don’t have to go through it alone anymore. i’m here to help you carry that weight."

she leaned in and kissed you, a soft, tentative pressure against your lips. it was a chaste kiss, a promise of something more. you closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the moment.

her lips parted slightly, inviting you to deepen the kiss. your instincts screamed at you to pull away, to run back to the safety of your own world. but something held you back. the warmth of her touch, the sincerity in her eyes, the unwavering belief she had in you.

you tentatively kissed her back, your movements clumsy and unsure. you had karina really kissed anyone before, not like this. karina seemed to sense your hesitation and took the lead, guiding you with gentle hands.

her tongue traced the curve of your lips, sending a shiver down your spine. you opened your mouth slightly, allowing her to deepen the kiss. the world around you faded away, replaced by the sensation of her soft lips on yours, the warmth of her breath against your skin.

your hands, still trembling, reached up and tentatively touched her face. her skin was soft and smooth beneath your fingertips. she moaned softly against your lips, and you felt a surge of heat course through your body.

you didn’t know what you were doing. you were completely lost, adrift in a sea of new sensations. but you knew that you wanted this. you wanted her.

karina broke the kiss, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “easy there.” she teased, her voice breathy. “we have all the time in the world.”

she took your hands in hers and placed them on her waist. “like this.” she murmured, her voice husky. “feel my body. let yourself enjoy it.”

your hands trembled as you explored the curve of her waist, the swell of her hips. you felt her shiver beneath your touch, and a thrill of power coursed through you.

“don’t worry, baby, i’ll teach you everything you need to know. by the time i’m done with you, you’ll be a pro at making girls scream in ecstasy.”

she crooked a finger at you, beckoning you closer. “come here, sweetheart. let me show you how to touch me…”

as you approached, karina took your hand and guided it to her breast, encouraging you to squeeze the soft flesh. her nipple pebbled under your palm, the rosy bud begging for attention.

“start by worshipping my tits.” she instructed breathily. “use both hands, don’t be shy. get acquainted with every inch of them.”

not knowing what to do really, you slowly take her breasts in your hands, feeling the weight of them on your palms. “they’re… uhm, nice.”

karina let out a soft moan as your hesitant hands cupped and squeezed her breasts, your touch sending pleasant shivers through her. she covered your hands with her own, guiding you to knead and caress the ample mounds with more confidence. she reached up and showed you how to circle her stiff nipples with your thumbs, applying a teasing pressure. another breathy moan escaped her lips as you clumsily mimicked her actions.

“mmmh yes, just like that, baby. you’re a natural.” she encouraged breathlessly, her back arching slightly to push her chest further into your touch. “don’t be shy. grab them tighter, pinch and pull at my nipples. i want to feel that cute mouth of yours all over them too.”

she released your hands and leaned back, watching you intently through half–lidded eyes darkened with lust. your fingers found her nipples, rolling and tugging at the stiff peaks. karina gasped and bit her plump lower lip, looking utterly debauched.

“that’t it, baby. now, lean down and put your mouth on them. cover my nipple with your lips and suck, use your tongue to swirl around it.” karina tangled her fingers in your hair, pushing your face further into her cleavage as she arched her back, pressing more of her soft flesh into your mouth. her breath came in short, eager gasps as she felt your inexperienced but enthusiastic exploration of her body.

karina gasped and arched her back slightly as your warm mouth enveloped her sensitive nipple, your tongue beginning to swirl and flick around the hardened nub. she tangled her fingers in your hair, guiding your head as you suckled and lapped at her breast. “oh fuck yes—, just like that.” she purred, pushing your head more insistently against her chest. “suck on my tits, baby. put that pretty mouth of yours to work.”

as you tentatively suckled and licked at her nipple, karina squirmed beneath you, her arousal growing. she held your head in place, encouraging you to lavish attention on her breasts.

“you’re a quick learner.” she praised breathlessly. “keep going, baby. use more of your tongue, flick it against the tip. make me feel good.” she pushed your head down, encouraging you to take more of her breast into your mouth. her other hand came up to grope and knead the neglected mound, pinching and rolling the nipple between her fingers.

karina’s thighs began to tremble slightly, a dampness building between them as your inexperienced but eager ministrations stoked the fires of her arousal. she could feel her pussy throbbing, aching to be touched and filled.

she released your hair and tapped your chin, urging you to lift your head and look at her. “do you want to learn how to make a girl feel good?”

she sat up and spread her legs wider, revealing her glistening folds. the scent of her arousal was stronger now, filling your nostrils and making your head spin with desire.

“come closer, baby. get on your knees.” karina commanded, her voice low and breathy. she used two fingers to spread herself open, exposing her pink, pulsing hole. “start by kissing up my thigh, nice and slow. get me nice and worked up.”

her eyes locked with yours, burning with lust and hunger. she licked her lips, beckoning you closer with a crooked finger. “then find my clit with that clever tongue of yours. suck and lick it just like you did my nipples. i want to feel that hot mouth all over my pussy.”

karina leaned back on her elbows, her chest heaving with anticipation. her eyes never left yours as she waited for you to obey her command and begin your sensual journey up her thigh.

karina shuddered as your soft lips trailed kisses along her inner thigh, your mouth leaving a path of tingling heat in its wake. she let out breathy little moans and sighs, her fingers curling in your hair as you worked your way steadily upward.

“oh fuck, baby.” she whimpered, squirming slightly. “your mouth feels so good. don’t stop, baby. keep going until you reach the top.”

as you drew closer to her glistening center, the musky scent of her arousal intensified, filling your senses and making your head swim with desire. your heart raced as you caught sight of her swollen, slick folds, just begging to be tasted.

karina spread her legs even wider, giving you full access to her most intimate area. she used two fingers to spread herself open, revealing her pink, pulsing hole and the stiff little bud at the apex.

“go on, sweetheart.” she breathed, her voice trembling with need. “find my clit with that hot little mouth of yours. suck on it, lick circles around it. make me feel good."

her chest heaved with anticipation, her full breasts rising and falling rapidly. she gazed down at you with hooded, lust–filled eyes, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. the air between your face and her dripping sex was charged with electric tension, the promise of pleasure hanging heavy.

karina let out a sharp gasp as your tongue made contact with her sensitive flesh, her hips bucking slightly at the sudden jolt of pleasure. she tangled her fingers tighter in your hair, holding you firmly in place as she grinded your face against her dripping sex.

“fuck yes—!" she cried out, her head falling back against the couch cushions. “just like that, baby. suck on my clit. put that wicked little tongue to work.”

spurred on by her encouragement, you focused your attention on the stiff little bud, circling it with the tip of your tongue before suckling gently. you swirl your tongue around the stiff bud, flicking and teasing it mercilessly. karina’s thighs trembled and clenched around your head, her arousal coating your chin and dripping down your neck. you could feel her pulse racing beneath the slick skin as you lapped and suckled greedily.

“your tongue feels incredible.” karina panted, her hips undulating in time with the strokes of your tongue. “don’t stop, sweetheart. lick up all my juices. i want to feel that hot mouth all over my pussy.”

you delved your tongue deep into her fluttering channel, fucking her with the slick muscle as you continued to suckle her clit. karina’s moans grew louder and more desperate, her grip on your hair tightening painfully. the obscene sound of your slurping and sucking filled the room, mingling with her wanton cries.

“yes, yes, yes! oh fuck, i’m gonna come!” she nearly screamed, her body tensing and quaking. “make me come on that pretty face. don’t stop!”

karina’s body went rigid, her back arching sharply off the couch as her climax crashed over her like a tidal wave. she threw her head back and let out a guttural, primal scream of ecstasy, her inner walls clenching and fluttering wildly around your plunging tongue.

“oh shit, yes! i’m coming so hard!” she wailed, her juices flooding your mouth and dripping down your chin. her fingers pulled harshly at your hair, holding you in place as she ground her spasming sex against your face, riding out the intense waves of her orgasm.

you continued to lap and suckle at her sensitive flesh, prolonging her pleasure as her honey gushed into your mouth. the taste of her essence was intoxicating, sweet and tangy, addictive in its uniqueness. you couldn’t get enough, greedily swallowing every drop as it coated your tongue.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, karina collapsed back onto the couch, her chest heaving and glistening with a sheen of sweat. she went limp beneath you, her thighs falling open and her legs dangling over the edge of the couch. Her eyes were glazed and unfocused, a blissed out smile on her kiss–swollen lips.

“oh my god.” she panted, her voice ragged and hoarse. “that was… fuck, that was incredible. you’re a natural at eating pussy.”

she reached down and stroked your cheek with a trembling hand, smearing some of her juices across your skin. her touch was gentle, almost reverent, as she gazed at you with a mixture of awe and lust.

“did i do it right? was it good?”

karina grinned wickedly as you came up for air, her eyes sparkling with mischief and satisfaction. she wrapped her arms around your neck and pulled you into a searing kiss, her tongue plundering your mouth and tasting herself on your lips.

“good? baby, you were fucking incredible.” she purred against your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip. “I haven’t come that hard in a long time.”

she rolled you both over so that you were lying on top of her, your breasts pressing against hers. karina’s hands roamed your back, squeezing and caressing your curves as she held you close.

“i knew you were a keeper from the moment i first saw you.” she murmured, her lips brushing against your ear. “such a sexy little thing, with your pretty face and hot body. i’m so glad i made a move on you.”

her hands slid down to grope your ass, kneading the firm globes and pulling your hips flush against hers. you could feel the heat of her skin, still flushed and tingling from her intense orgasm. karina’s eyes flashed with renewed lust as she gazed up at you, a devilish grin on her face.

“you know, we’re just getting started, sweetheart.” she said with a wicked chuckle. “i’ve got so much more in store for you. tonight is going to be a long, pleasurable experience. i’m going to take away your fear of being around girls."

[lightwise]

Omega is not okay

I know we've all been over the moon about Crosshair and Hunter's dynamic in The Return, but I want to draw some attention to Omega in this episode, and something that I think Joel Aron is trying to draw attention to with his lighting choices.

Omega is not okay.

Joel has made pointed out many times that he loves doing reveal lighting (think the overhead light in Crosshair's cell or on the freighter at the end of A Different Approach giving him a halo, or how Hunter stops short of the overhead light on the Marauder before stepping out to greet Omega). And throughout this whole episode, the light is breaking over Crosshair and bathing him in warmth more and more. He is slowly returning the light and coming home to his family.

Omega, however, in nearly every single scene in this episode, is in shadow.

Yes, her hairstyle is contributing to the fall of light on her face, and yes, she has her hat on while they're on Barton IV. But this is showing that her psychological state since they escaped Tantiss is uneasy, at best, and very conflicted and darkened, at worst. Even when she wakes up in the comfort and safety of the Marauder, she is shrouded in shadow. And even in scenes where the light wraps around and highlights Crosshair's face, Omega's is kept harshly defined, and she is often looking away from the "camera".

Even when we see her somewhat happier at points in this episode, usually due to watching her brothers reconnect, her face is not as well lit as theirs.

Omega kept her positivity and optimism at the forefront while she and Crosshair were in prison, and throughout most of their escape. It's what we most associate with her--being a ray of sunshine and encouragement for those around her. Now, however, she has the opportunity to relax a bit, for the adults to be handling certain things, and the trauma and perspective shift that she has just gone through is coming to the forefront.

Her survivors guilt, her shock at not being the only female clone, her confusion and questions over who she is and why she is so important, the cruelty she's seen Hemlock be capable of, and her continued empathy for anyone who is suffering is all swirling around in her in ways that she doesn't know what to do with yet. Yes, she has seen much suffering in the galaxy already in her short life, and has always been adamant about her need to help others. But ultimately it had never impacted her like this. Until now.

Crosshair has been broken and remade by his experiences. Omega is being broken and remade by hers as well. And I'm not sure the boys fully realize just how much yet.

Omega refuses to be left behind. She feels responsible for the fact that the rest of the clones are still on Tantiss. She feels guilty that she could have a chance at a life still and they don't. She feels an all-encompassing need to help them if she can, even though she is still young and vulnerable. This is ultimately going to conflict with Hunter's desires to keep her safe and hidden. Echo has already chosen the fight. Wrecker is willing to go wherever he's needed. Crosshair has been through too much to not be willing to fight back however necessary.

Hunter is going to eventually realize that while Omega is still a child, and does need to be protected, at the same time, her own sense of responsibility is going to eventually supersede his desires.

Echo and Crosshair especially will be able to understand some of what she is feeling and hopefully help guide her through it. Hopefully, Omega will be able to reconcile who she is, what she is capable of, and what is outside of her ability to fix, sooner rather than later. But it's safe to say she will never be the same after this. At least she has a little bit of reprieve before facing whatever is next.

[pbaz7]

AGAINST THE TIDE: PART EIGHT

paige x azzi

word count: 3.5k

A/N: I’m sorry 😔 it’s necessary for the plot. It’s also kinda all the other writers fault because they broke my heart too many times with their updates recently so I was being a masochist. Leave some live reactions and I’ll make it up to you before the weekend is over.

—————————————————————————

September 2022

It had been a whirlwind of a few months for Paige. Between tearing her ACL during a pickup game in August and spending weeks avoiding everyone—including Azzi—things had been rough. At first, Paige couldn’t stand to be around anyone, the weight of her injury crushing her spirit. She didn’t understand why this kept happening to her. The most she could manage was sitting silently on FaceTime with Azzi, who didn’t push, didn’t prod—just sat there on the other end, offering quiet support.

Eventually, Paige started to miss her. Not just the quiet presence on the phone, but Azzi herself. She missed her laugh, her teasing comments, and the way she always seemed to know when Paige needed someone to hold her together. She knew she wouldn’t get better by sulking, so she started physical therapy. Azzi, of course, was by her side every step of the way, cheering her on through the grueling sessions and sneaking in snacks when she thought the trainers weren’t looking. One day Paige even pointed out that Azzi didn’t have to sneak her snacks, she could just give them to her and Azzi shushed her saying it was no fun that way.

The connection between them was undeniable, and as soon as they were back to spending every moment together in person, they fell right back into their old habits—flirting, teasing, and, inevitably, sleeping together. They had been doing that a lot since that night in the Jeep.

Now, their situationship was as confusing as ever. Best friends, friends with benefits, something more—they didn’t bother defining it. What mattered to Azzi was that they were together in some way, even if it wasn’t official.

The team’s popularity had skyrocketed since their championship run, with Paige’s popularity growing right along with it. It seemed like every time they went out, someone stopped her for pictures or autographs. Paige always said yes, her natural charisma making her a magnet for attention. Azzi usually found it amusing—until recently.

She’d never considered herself a jealous person before, but watching people fawn over Paige had started to get under her skin in ways she didn’t want to admit. Paige always teased her about it when they got back to their room, whispering in her ear about how she only had eyes for Azzi. Those moments usually ended with clothes scattered across the floor and all frustration Azzi had prior completely gone.

Tonight, the team was at Ted’s, their usual hangout spot. Paige, still on crutches, sat at their table while Azzi headed to the bar to grab them drinks. Insisting that she didn’t want Paige hobbling across the crowded room.

While waiting for the bartender, Azzi glanced back toward the team’s table—and froze. Three random girls had surrounded Paige, their body language a little too friendly for her liking.

One of them leaned in, her hand brushing against Paige’s forearm as she laughed at something the blonde said. Another one tossed her hair over her shoulder, clearly trying to get Paige’s attention. The third girl just stood there, starry-eyed, hanging on Paige’s every word, though Paige wasn’t saying much.

Paige just smiled and nodded as they spoke, her natural charm working its magic even though she wasn’t meaning for it to.

Paige’s gaze suddenly shifted, locking with Azzi’s from across the room. A slow, knowing smirk spread across her face as if she could feel the possessiveness simmering behind Azzi’s dark eyes. She winked, and Azzi’s jaw clenched.

Azzi grabbed their drinks from the bar, her grip tight around the glasses as she made her way back. When she reached the table, one of the girls noticed her approach and immediately lit up.

“Oh my god, you’re Azzi, right? Paige’s teammate?” she asked, her tone overly friendly.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, placing the drinks down. “Yeah. Teammate,” she replied coolly, slipping into the seat next to Paige—closer than necessary, her shoulder brushing Paige’s.

Paige looked over, biting back a smile at Azzi’s obvious claim of space. “Thanks, Az,” she said lightly, reaching for her drink.

The girls, undeterred, continued talking over one another, their eagerness to capture Paige’s attention almost comical. Paige didn’t lean into it, but she didn’t shut it down either, her polite demeanor keeping the conversation going.

“So, Paige,” one of the girls said, a playful edge to her voice. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

Before Paige could respond, Azzi froze beside her, her grip on her drink a little tight.

“No,” Paige said simply, her tone casual.

Azzi scoffed, the sound loud enough to draw Paige’s attention. Paige glanced at her briefly, her expression unreadable, before turning back to the girls. “Not really looking, though,” she added.

Azzi opened her mouth, ready to make a smart comment, but before she could, one of the girls leaned in closer to Paige. In her attempt to get Paige’s attention, the girl bumped Paige’s injured knee.

Paige winced, her hand immediately going to her leg. The sharp intake of breath she let out wasn’t loud, but it was enough to make Azzi snap.

“You need to be careful,” Azzi said, her voice a little tight, cutting through the noise around them.

The girls all froze, surprised by the sudden shift in Azzi’s tone. She glared at them, her usual calm replaced by an edge of irritation. “I think you guys should go,” she said, her voice low and laced with a little venom.

The three exchanged glances, murmuring awkward excuses and apologies to Paige as they shuffled away, leaving Paige and Azzi alone at the table.

“You didn’t have to scare them off,” Paige said, though there was a hint of amusement in her voice as she reached for her drink.

Azzi turned to her, her gaze softening as it dropped to Paige’s knee. “You okay?”

Paige nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’m fine. Didn’t know you were so protective.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair. “Someone has to be, considering how much you clearly love the attention.”

Paige chuckled, leaning toward her. “Only yours,” she whispered, her voice teasing.

Azzi’s lips twitched into a reluctant smile, her earlier anger melting away as Paige’s words settled between them.

…

The night continued with its usual buzz, but Paige and Azzi remained in their corner, the tension between them slowly dissolving as they sipped their drinks. They’d fallen into their familiar rhythm, laughing and leaning close as they talked about everything and nothing all at the same time.

That was, until another woman approached their table, her sights set squarely on Paige. Azzi noticed her immediately—the confident stride, the deliberate way she positioned herself in Paige’s line of sight, and the overly friendly smile she flashed.

“Hi,” the woman said, her voice smooth as she directed her attention toward Paige, completely ignoring Azzi. “I just wanted to say I’m a huge fan. You’re incredible on the court.”

Paige, immersed in her conversation with Azzi, looked up, her expression polite but distant. “Thank you,” she said, her tone kind but not inviting.

The woman didn’t take the hint, shifting closer as she spoke again. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but if you ever have time, I’d love to pick your brain about basketball. Maybe over some dinner sometime?”

Azzi’s jaw tightened, and Paige caught the subtle shift in her posture. Without missing a beat, Paige reached for her drink, her free hand brushing against Azzi’s under the table.

“Sorry, but I’m not really looking for anything these days,” Paige replied smoothly, her eyes flicking briefly to Azzi before settling back on the woman. “But I appreciate the support.”

The woman hesitated, clearly not expecting the polite rejection, before finally backing off with a forced smile. Once she was out of earshot, Paige let out a soft sigh and turned to Azzi.

“Alright, I think that’s our cue to call it a night,” Paige said, standing carefully and grabbing her crutches.

Azzi stood as well, her expression still unreadable, though the corners of her mouth twitched upward. “Yeah, before I have to fend off another one.”

Paige laughed, leaning on her crutches as they made their way out of Ted’s. The cool night air greeted them as they stepped outside, and Azzi stayed close, her hand lightly brushing Paige’s arm every so often as they walked to the car.

When they got back to Paige’s apartment, the teasing smile was back on her lips as she closed the door behind them. She turned to Azzi, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You know,” Paige began, her voice low and playful, “I think it’s cute how jealous you always get.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but the slight blush creeping up her neck betrayed her. “I wasn’t jealous,” she said, her tone defensive but unconvincing.

Paige grinned, stepping closer until they were nearly chest to chest. “Really? Because it definitely felt like it when you tensed up anytime somebody looked at me.”

Azzi crossed her arms, though her resolve was clearly slipping. “I was just protecting my teammates space,” she said, though the way her eyes softened as she looked at Paige said otherwise.

Paige leaned in, her lips brushing Azzi’s ear as she whispered, “I can show you why you don’t need to worry about nobody else.”

Azzi’s breath hitched, her arms falling to her sides as she looked at Paige, her expression caught between exasperation and anticipation.

“Fine,” she muttered, her voice barely audible. “But you better make it convincing.”

Paige smirked, her eyes darkening as she pulled Azzi closer. “Oh, I will.”

…

The next morning Paige stood in Azzi's room, leaning on the edge of the dresser as she pulled on her shirt. The room was quiet except for the soft rustle of fabric. She glanced at Azzi, who was seated on the bed scrolling through her phone, and decided to fill the silence with something she had been thinking about.

“I was thinking we could check out this spot downtown,” Paige began casually. “It’s got these cozy booths, good food—kinda intimate but not over the top. I think you’d like it.”

Azzi’s head looked up, her brow furrowing. “That sounds like a date, Paige.”

Paige shrugged as if the words didn’t sting. “Nah it doesn’t have to be a big deal. We can just grab some food.”

Azzi set her phone down, her voice a little firm. “Just because we don’t call it a date doesn’t mean it won’t feel like one.”

Paige’s jaw tightened, the easygoing front she tried to maintain cracking. “Is it the worst thing in the world for us to go on a date, Azzi?”

“Yes,” Azzi said immediately, her tone leaving no room for doubt. “Considering we aren’t dating.”

Paige let out a short laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Here we go with this again. So what is this then?” she asked, gesturing between them.

“It’s...complicated,” Azzi said, sighing as she ran a hand through her hair. “I really don’t want to argue about this today Paige.”

“No,” Paige said sharply, her voice rising. “It’s not complicated. We make it complicated. You make it complicated. God, Azzi, we spend every night together. You let me whisper all kinds of shit in your ear, you let me touch you—hell, you beg me to touch you—but you won’t let me take you to dinner? What the hell is that about?”

Azzi frowned, her frustration building. “You never get it, Paige. This isn’t just about us. I’ve told you that.”

“Then explain it to me,” Paige demanded, stepping away from the dresser, her crutches clacking against the hardwood floor.

Azzi sighed heavily, clearly reluctant to have this conversation. “You’ve already made a name for yourself. You could never play another game, and you’d still be drafted. Me? I’m still proving myself. I can’t afford distractions like that.”

Paige’s eyes narrowed, her voice tinged with anger. “Oh, so I’m a distraction now? Is that all I am to you?”

“That’s not what I said and you know it,” Azzi snapped.

“Then what are you saying, Azzi? Because honestly I’m getting a little sick of this half-in, half-out bullshit!” Paige’s voice was rising now, her emotions spilling over.

Azzi stood, pacing the room as she tried to collect her thoughts. “I’m saying this...this thing between us could complicate everything. The team, our careers—”

“So what, we'll just keep sneaking around forever in your mind?” Paige cuts her off, her tone incredulous as she says things she knows aren't true. “I’m good enough to sleep with but not good enough for you to actually be with. Is that what it is?”

“That’s not fair,” Azzi said, her voice tight.

“No, what’s not fair is what we’ve been doing!” Paige shot back. “You’ll scream my name all fucking night, let me do whatever I want to you, but God forbid I want hold your hand in public or call this what it is. Do you even hear yourself?”

Azzi stopped pacing, her face hardening. “You know it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like, Azzi?” Paige pressed, her voice cracking. “Because from where I’ve been standing, it looks like I don’t mean that much to you.”

Azzi’s expression softened for a moment, guilt flickering across her face. “You mean the world to me, Paige. You know that.”

Paige let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Do I? Because it sure doesn’t feel like it when you won’t even agree to a simple date with me.”

Azzi threw her hands up in frustration. “I’m not dating my fucking teammate, Paige! I’ve told you that so many times. It’s too messy, and it’s not worth the risk.”

“Not worth the risk?” Paige repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. She grabbed her crutches, her movements sharp. “You’re unbelievable.”

Azzi stepped toward her, her voice softening. “Paige, don’t—”

“No,” Paige interrupted, her voice rising again. “You don’t want me to leave? Then stop treating me like I’m just some convenience for you. Because I’m not doing this anymore, Azzi. I’m not just some fuck toy for you to play with when it’s convenient. Find somebody else to fuck you if that’s all you want from me.”

“You know that’s not all I want!” Azzi protested, her voice desperate now.

“Then what the hell do you want, Azzi?” Paige asked, her voice a little raw.

“I don’t know!” Azzi yelled, the words hanging in the air.

Paige hesitated, her chest rising and falling as she fought against the lump in her throat. Finally, she looked Azzi in the eye, her voice quiet but trembling. “I love you, Azzi.”

The words hung in the air, heavy. Azzi froze, her expression unreadable as she stared at Paige not expecting her to say that in this moment. For a few agonizing seconds, she said nothing, and then softly, “Paige...I–”

The silence was all it took. Paige’s face hardened, her jaw tightening as she turned away. “Forget it,” she muttered, grabbing her crutches and heading for the door.

Azzi reached out, panic flashing across her face. “Paige, wait—it’s wet outside. Your crutches…You shouldn’t—”

“I really don’t want to look at you right now,” Paige cut her off, her voice icy. “I’ll be fine.”

With that, she walked out, the sound of the door slamming behind her echoing in the room. Azzi stood there, staring at the empty doorway, her chest tight as the weight of their argument settled over her. Azzi realized just how much she just fucked up and she didn’t know if she could fix it this time.

…

Azzi tried to give Paige some time to calm down so she left her alone for the rest of the day. But the next day after their fight, Azzi couldn’t stop thinking about her. She stared at her phone, her fingers flying across the screen as she sent text after text.

💗: Paige I’m sorry about yesterday, Can we please talk?

💗: I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never want to hurt you P.

💗: You mean everything to me, P.

💗: Please just let me fix this

💗: Paige, please…Just answer me

💗: Are you okay?

💗: How was physical therapy? Who took you?

💗: I thought about going but I figured you didn’t want me to.

💗: I hate how we left things

💗: I miss you P

💗: I know I messed up, please don’t shut me out.

By midday she had sent at least twenty messages and about a dozen phone calls to Paige, each one unanswered. She was about to give up for the day when her phone buzzed.

P 💗: ok.

That was it. Just two letters, but it was enough to send Azzi flying out the door.

Now Azzi was sitting in Paige’s room, the tension between them so suffocating it felt like the walls were closing in. They’d been talking for some time, exchanging quiet apologies for some of the harsh words they had thrown at each other the night before. But the heart of the issue still lingered, unspoken.

Azzi broke the silence, her voice soft but insistent. “I do love you, Paige.”

Paige’s breath caught for a moment before she exhaled slowly, shaking her head. “No, Az. You don’t.”

Azzi frowned, her expression a mix of confusion and hurt. “How can you say that? You don’t know how I feel.”

Paige met her gaze, her voice steady but tinged with sadness. “Because if you loved me—really loved me—we wouldn’t be in this situation. You’d want to be with me, Az. Not just here, not just like this, but completely.”

Azzi’s eyes softened, her hands clasping together tightly in her lap. “Paige, it’s not that simple.”

“It is to me,” Paige said quietly, her voice breaking just slightly. “I love you Azzi. I love you so much I’d give up anything for you. Do you understand that? I’d leave this team, this school, all of our friends, my dream of winning a championship here... I’d walk away from all of it, because none of it matters to me as much as you do.”

Azzi’s eyes began to glisten, but she stayed silent, the weight of Paige’s words settling over her.

“I’m not saying you have to do that to prove you love me,” Paige continued, her tone soft but firm. “But I know you don’t love me the way I love you. Not yet. Not even if you won’t let us try to be together.”

Azzi blinked, a tear slipping down her cheek. “That’s not fair, Paige. Just because I’m scared doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

Paige’s lips pressed into a thin line, her jaw tightening as she held back her own tears. “You might love the idea of me. Of us. Of what we have when no one else is looking. But love—real love—it’s more than that, Az and you know it. It’s being willing to take the risk, even when it’s scary. Even when it’s complicated.”

Azzi’s voice was a whisper. “It’s not just fear Paige I’ve told you that. You’ve already made a name for yourself. You could never play again and still be drafted. But me? I’m not there yet. I can’t afford to let anything get in the way of what I’ve been trying to build since I was a kid.”

Paige nodded slowly, her heart breaking even as she forced herself to stay composed. “I get it Az. I do. And I promise I’m not mad at you for it. I’ll keep supporting you But I can’t keep doing what we’re doing, Az. I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with having only part of you when I want so much more.”

Azzi’s breath hitched, her tears now falling freely. “So that’s it? We’re just... done?”

Paige hesitated, her voice trembling as she spoke. “Yeah I think we have to be.”

Azzi reached out, her hand holding Paige’s as their fingers intertwined. “I love you so much, Paige. Maybe not the way you want me to yet, but I promise I do.”

Paige closed her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek as she shook her head. “I can’t do ‘maybe,’ Az. Not with you. Not right now”

The room fell silent, the weight of her words hanging between them. After a moment, Azzi stood, her movements slow and reluctant.

At the door, she paused, glancing back at Paige. Her voice was barely audible. “You’re still my best friend, right?”

Paige gave her a small, sad smile. “Always, Azzi.”

Azzi nodded, her expression filled with sorrow as she whispered, “I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want yet P.”

Before she stepped out, Azzi turned back one last time, her heart heavy with everything she felt like she couldn’t explain to the girl she loved more than anything. She moved toward Paige and, without a word, pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, her lips touching one of Paige’s tears, lingering just a moment longer than necessary. Her lips whispered against her skin as she pulled away, her voice barely a breath.

“I promise this isn’t the end of our story P. I just need time.”

Paige’s breath caught in her throat, but Azzi was already turning to leave. The door clicked shut behind her with a finality that echoed in Paige’s heart. Alone now, she let out a shaky breath, her hands covering her face as she laid back and the tears finally came.

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

If it's not a spoiler, what would you say is WD!Rose's biggest weakness/flaw?

I would hope that her biggest flaws haven't really changed from the original show. It's not like she acquired some new ones just because Steven's there. At her core, her motivations and fears are still the same.

Largely, it's her self-hatred and self-doubt.

Rose Quartz has always been defined by her dislike of herself. It's in the lyrics of the end song. It's practically telegraphed at every episode she shows up in.

Rose Quartz popped out of the ground, was immediately defined by who she was (supposed to be) and then was pretty much immediately reprimanded by the other diamonds for acting out in any way that didn't fit their 'standards'.

Then she went to Earth, realized their standards were shite, and tried desperately to become someone else - while never believing that she could ACTUALLY change and grow to be someone new. To the very end, she thought that she was fooling the others, even as she tried to protect them.

Her entire arc is about desperately trying to be herself, and failing at every step of the way because she fundamentally doesn't believe she's capable of change. She looks in the mirror and she sees in past tense.

Rose, here, is faced with something she has been running after her whole life:

Living proof of how a Diamond could be Not A Diamond in a way that isn't deceiving anyone. In a way that is purely, entirely, fundamentally, changing who they are.

Rose adores Steven at this point in the story, as much as she is terrified of him and all he represents.

His ability to forget who he is supposed to be.

His potential for change, and growth beyond his programming.

And the looming threat of that all being just another lie, or a temporary fix that will shatter her hopes of ever becoming like him.

Of course... she doesn't know about his dreams, nor his internal struggles. But that's gonna be its own story. :)

[lyjen]

Maybe

Summary: Evan and (Y/n) end up closer than ever on a call. But when (Y/n) gets hurt and Evan’s girlfriend notices the slightest sign of worry for his colleague, she confronts him.

Request by: anonymous - The request

9-1-1 masterlist

Taglist: ( @oliviah-25 @shauna-carsley

______

“Come on, we’re halfway there.” Buck tries to motivate (Y/n), to attempt to give her some more energy. A sigh falls off (Y/n)’s lips as her flat hand slides over the side of the stairwell wall and starts carefully placing her feet down onto the metal railing underneath her.

They are inside a building that was going to snap in two.

Buck and (Y/n) had the opportunity to go up the partly collapsed building, doing a sweep to see if there were any signs of life inside the building. The chances of that weren’t that high, the building they were in was an old hospital and wasn’t being used in decades.

But protocol said to always do a sweep through the buildings to make sure they wouldn’t leave anyone behind. So, that’s what they were doing. But till so far, they didn’t see anyone.

“Can you believe it? They made us go all the way up there, and find nothing.” she said as she stepped down onto the stairs and grabbed the railing with her gloved hands.

“Well, if you define old broken hospital cabinets and beds as nothing.” Evan laughed at her as he panted and flashed his light, which was secured to his harness, towards the rest of the stairwell.

But his laugh was nowhere to be found anymore when he looked at the barricaded entryway of the stairwell. “You’ve got to be kidding me” he sighed as he stepped closer.

They were in the second half of the building. They were almost back on the ground floor. Although they needed to go down another six to seven levels, it still felt like they were almost there.

(Y/n) could still hear the building trying to move with every step they took inside. The concrete was creaking and cracking on every corner.

Evan turned his head to look at his colleague “There’s no other way than..” he pointed his index finger up and looked in between the staircases until he could see the part where the building was snapped. “Back up. I get it.” She finished his sentence annoyed.

She was tired, exhausted, this was hour twenty one of the twenty four hour shift she was on and she still didn’t have any decent sleep.

“Let’s go probie” Evan said with a smirk on his face as he pulled himself up by the help of the railing. He knew damn’ well (Y/n) wasn’t a probie anymore, but he loved teasing her with that nickname. He knew she didn’t like it, she could handle other people saying it, but whenever Evan said it, it sent a shiver down her spine.

*

“Okay, there’s nothing to worry about.. you’re going to be fine.” (Y/n) motivated herself as she walked down the stairs and focussed herself on repeating the sentences she just read in the books. “You’re going to be just fine” she whispered as she tried to reassure herself as she skipped the last two steps of the stairs and landed safe and sound on the ground with her two feet.

She had a few study books piled up in her hands, with a couple of loose sheets sticking out of the books because those were her notes she just wrote down.

(Y/n) was in her probation period, trying to train, study and work all at once. It was hard, but she knew she could do it. She just had to step up and work a little harder. While she was walking towards the locker room to put her books away, she was looking through the pile of books.

“Hey probie!” Evan’s voice sounded through the firehouse, harder than he originally wanted to sound.

(Y/n) was caught off guard as she heard her new nickname fall off the lips of Evan. The books she was holding flew out of her hands and within a second they were all spread over the ground floor of the firehouse.

“Fuck” she hissed underneath her breath as she quickly squatted down and started collecting the books she just spread over the floor.

“Oh shit, sorry” Evan said as he quickly walked towards her and crouched down to collect some lost papers.

“You-..You don't have to do that..” she stumbled as she saw Evan collecting her notes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you” Evan apologizes as he picks up the papers he collected and handed them over to (y/n).

“No, it’s okay. I wasn’t really paying attention.” she said as she accepted the papers he was holding out to her, and she placed them right on top of the pile of books she made. She secured the pile of books between her lower arm and her chest as she and Evan both straightened up again.

Their eyes connected, it felt like Evan was drowning in those beautiful eyes. “Hey, uh..” Evan sighed as an awkward silence fell between the two of them and he was still looking in her eyes like he was possessed. “We’re going out with the team after shift for a drink, do you want to join us?” he continued as he pointed over his shoulder and slid his hands in his pockets.

“That’s sweet.. but I’m kinda busy” she smiled softly at him as she shrugged her shoulders and motioned with her head towards the books in her arms. “Oh yeah” Evan said as he realized what he asked her was not his best move.

(Y/n) turned around as the conversation fell silent again. She could feel the tension in the air, it made her uncomfortable, so she decided to walk away.

“Uh, maybe next time?” Evan spoke loudly as he was now watching her back again, trying to get her attention. She didn’t dare to give him another glance. “Maybe!” she shouted back as she continued her way towards the locker room again with a smile on her face.

*

“Hey! Open these doors with your halligan” Evan commanded as they finally reached an elevator shaft with the door closed tightly. A groan fell off her lips as she tried to balance her weight and keep herself in place while the building was obliquely.

Her hand reached for the halligan, which was secured on her back, and she pushed the metal tool in between the two elevator doors and pushed as hard as she could. Evan’s gloved hands were placed on one of the doors to assist her.

Evan panted as he had put all of his strength into his action and looked around to search for a possible anchor point to hold their weight. “This is not going to hold the both of us..” Evan said as he saw the nearest point to attach them to while he held onto the elevator door.

It was a half broken piece of railing of the hospital hallways. It was old, probably rotten, but it could only hold one of them. It wasn’t surely the strongest one, but it could hold one person to the max.

(Y/n)’s hand harshly tapped against his chest. “So, we find another anchor point.” she said as she finally got Evan’s attention and pointed her hand out to the opposite direction of the elevator doors.

There was another set of doors on the opposite side, it was a double-sided elevator.

“I was about to say that you had to ripple down first, but this could work too.” Evan laughed as he looked to his left and met her gaze. They were standing close, maybe too close, but that happens when gravity is pulling you down and you’re in a building that’s in the wrong angle than it's supposed to be.

She could feel his warm breath tickling her skin as he inhaled and exhaled. “I’ll go to the.. otherside.” she stumbled as she disconnected her eyes from his. Evan cleared his throat as he agreed with her, “Yes, do that. I’m.. going to set the rope up.” Evan said as he was pulled out of his trance.

“You do that!” (Y/n) said as she grabbed the railing with both hands and let herself slide into the wall to move a little faster. It felt like they were on this call for too long.

As (Y/n) rounded the corner and finally reached the other pair of doors, she again pushed her tool between the two doors and pulled them open. (Y/n) quickly secured her rope to the railing just as Evan did on his side of the hallway. She tightened the knot and gave it a few hard pulls to see if it would hold.

She turned around and looked into the shaft, trying to get a look on how deep it is. “Are you ready for this?” (Y/n) asked Evan as she glanced at him. “Are we really ready for anything?” Evan said as he looked around in the shaft and shrugged his shoulders.

She shook her head as she laughed at the ceiling, typically Evan.

A sigh left her lips as she saw Evan already going over the edge, rippling down. “You coming?” Evan said as he looked up and saw herself starting to second guess her idea. “You’re doing great.” he tried to give her some motivation.

She swallowed as she turned around and let the rope catch her weight. Inch for inch, she let the rope slide through her gloved hands, lowering herself down.

The sound of the elevator shaft creaking was flowing through the space they were in.

Evan looked up at the ceiling, shining his headlight towards the parts above them. On first notice, there was nothing to be seen, but when Evan shone his light right above (Y/n), he could see a large, half broken beam dangling loosely above her side of the shaft. Inches above the doors she had climbed through.

It could fall any moment.

“(Y/n). I need you to stay calm for me, okay?” Evan suddenly said after a few moments of silence. Her stomach turned and filled itself with anxiety at the way he talked. Why was he suddenly talking to her like she was a victim? What was he seeing that she couldn’t see?

“What?” Her confused voice sounded through the shaft as she tried to look over her shoulder at Evan.

“I need you to push yourself with your feet, off the side and reach out for my hand.” Evan tried to stay calm but his eyes stayed right on the large beam a few feet above her head, ready to fall any second.

“Do it now!” Evan called out. There was no time to explain what the hell was going on, she had to trust Evan on his words. So she did exactly what he asked her to do.

She bent her knees as much as she could, so (Y/n) could create enough momentum to reach Evan's side. She pushed as hard as she could and swung from her side of the elevator shaft towards his side. Evan held out his hand as far as he could so he could catch hers.

A loud bang sounded through the shaft as the beam disconnected itself from the shaft.

He could feel her fingers brushing his wrist and clinging onto it as he tightly grabbed hers. Evan was holding all of her weight and gear in his right hand. He let his left hand climb further on her arm and resumed pulling her closer that way.

A groan escaped her mouth as she felt Evan’s nails pinning into her skin. But on that last pull, a yelp fell past her lips and Evan could hear her hissing in pain. Within seconds he had his chest meeting hers. His hands were secured around her waist, and the other one around her upper back, holding her as close as possible.

Evan panted as he put each and all of his energy what was left into that quick stunt they pulled. “Fuck” (Y/n) sighed as she had her arms attached around his back, looking like they were in a hug in the middle of a lift shaft. “Yeah, that was.. unexpected” Evan said as he looked down towards the hole where the beam just fell down.

“That, and.. that beam hit my damn’ left foot.” she hissed as she squeezed her eyes. “Wait what?” Evan said confused as she tried to read her face. (Y/n) let her forehead for a second rest against Evan’s shoulder as she closed her eyes and tried to stop focussing on the pain. “You okay?” his voice sounded worried.

Yes, they were friends and co-workers, nothing more and nothing less. But yet here they are closer than ever before.

“Yeah, for now.. let’s just get down to proper ground. I don’t want another beam falling down onto us.” (Y/n) said as she looked up at the sky, looking for other loose material. “Great idea” Evan said as he let the adrenaline that rushed through his veins calm down.

(Y/n) started to detach her hands off Evan’s back so she could swing her way back towards her side of the shaft. Her palms were awkwardly pushing into Evan’s collarbones, trying to create some distance between the two of them. “Evan? You can let go of me now” she said.

Evan was lost in his thoughts when she called his name. “Oh yeah.. Right. Sorry.” he apologized as he let his eyes connect with hers once again. He could hear her breathe, he could swear that he even heard her heartbeat for a second. They were close, and he didn’t want to let go.

He let go of her back and softly grabbed her wrist to get her back to her side of the shaft slowly and steady. They didn’t want her to bang into the wall with a high force of speed.

His fingers were curled around her wrist, and hers were curled around his. Evan let his other arm slowly become looser around her waist, so now she was only holding his wrist. Gravity slowly lets (Y/n)’s body move towards the middle part of the shaft.

Their hands “Ready?” Evan asked as he kept his eyes on their connected hands. “On three okay?” (Y/n) said as she nodded. “One..two..three.” And on three they both let go of each other's wrist.

(Y/n)’s hand wrapped around the rope which was still attached to her harness as she softly landed her right foot against the side of the elevator shaft. “You good?” Evan asked, wanting to know if she didn’t hurt her left foot by returning to her side of the shaft. A sigh left her mouth, as if she was holding a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Yes. Let’s just get out of here” she said as she started rippling down towards the ground floor.

The rest of the ride down was silent, beside some creaking and cracking from the building itself. They were just focussing themselves on getting out of that shaft.

When they reached the lowest level they were able to access, Evan opened the doors of his side of the shaft as he explicitly told (Y/n) to hang tight and wait for him. Especially after she hurt her foot, he couldn’t have her risking doing more damage to it than it probably already had.

Evan detached his harness from the rope and hurried towards the other side of the hallway and opened the doors. It was a relief that he could actually walk straight again after all that climbing and sliding down. “Grab my hand” Evan commanded as she lowered herself a little more, so she could touch the ground with her right foot while she let her left foot float above the ground. Evan’s touch made her heart take a little jump.

“Hold on” he said as he placed her hand onto his shoulder, and felt her fingertips burning into his button up shirt. Evan’s hands reached out to her harness as he detached her from the line.

“Thanks” she mumbled as she limped forward, trying to not put any weight on her left foot but she couldn’t help it.

“No, no. You can’t walk on that” Evan said worried as she slightly put some weight on it to keep her balance. “Here, let me help you.” Evan said as he grabbed her left arm and slung it over his shoulders, trying to support her weight.

Groan after groan fell off her lips with every limp, every hop she took. “Are you sure you can make it outside while limping?” Evan asked as she took another hop. “I’ll have to. Unless you have some other theories” she said as she groaned again. Evan pressed his lips into a thin line as (Y/n) leaned her weight onto Evan for another hop.

“It may be faster if I just carried you.” Evan suggested. A yelp left her mouth as her ankle bent to the outside. She wasn’t sure if it was because of Evan’s suggestion or the matter of fact that she already limped almost a hundred times. “Shit” she said as she held onto Evan’s shoulder with her left arm, she felt like a monkey. “Hey, hey, you alright? Seriously you’re going to hurt yourself even more if you keep on hopping onto that leg.” Evan spoke up as he came down to the same height as her.

She didn’t want to tell him he was right, but he was and she knew it. She just didn’t want him to give him the satisfaction. “Let me carry you. Please.” He was practically begging. He didn’t want her to get hurt any more than she already was. A sigh left her mouth as she mumbled an almost inaudible “Okay”.

Evan’s hand wandered towards his radio as he held the button to speak. “We’re almost done. Coming out in a minute.” he said. And he received a small “copy that” from Bobby. Evan’s left arm was already around her waist since he was guiding her just a second ago. He let his right arm slide underneath her knees and he carried her through the hallway to the exit of the building.

Her arms were hanging around his neck, as Evan hurried towards the ambulance. “Got a possible broken foot over here!” Evan yelled as he saw the rest of his team cleaning up the halligans and other equipment they used for the sweep in the lower building. Hen’s eyes shot up as she looked towards the duo that came rushing towards the team. “How the hell-” Hen mumbled as Evan sat (Y/n) down on the back of the ambulance as carefully as possible.

“Don’t ask” (Y/n) said as Hen removed the boot and started to examine her foot. When Hen touched it, (Y/n) hissed at the pain and grabbed Evan’s wrist, she almost crushes and squeezes all of the blood out of his wrist which made Evan groan.

When the grip became looser on his wrist, he moved his hand up, so she was now holding his hand. “Jesus!” she groaned at the touches, and let her forehead fall into Evan’s chest, wishing for the pain to leave her body.

Evan placed his other free hand on the back of her head. “You’re going to be fine” he whispers and let his chin rest on the top of her head.

______

“You’re late” a familiar voice spoke through the apartment as Evan closed the door behind him. His eyes fall on his girlfriend, Taylor, who’s sitting at the kitchen island. Her hands were curled up around the cup of tea she had just made, the steam was still coming off the hot boiling water.

“Hey” Evan simply said as he slowly walked into the room. He let the keys he had in his hand, slowly slide onto the table and let the strap of the duffle bag which he was balancing on his shoulder, fall onto the ground. A sigh left his mouth as Taylor turned on the chair to face him. “I’m so sorry” he continued as he was looking for the right words.

“Hey. I’m sorry. Really Buck? That’s it? That is everything you have to say?” Taylor said as a scoff left her mouth. “You’re unbelievable” her voice continued as Evan’s eyes wandered back to his feet, which were suddenly very interesting to him.

“Didn’t your shift end like, what? Three hours ago?” She asked when Evan didn’t answer her and she blew softly at the water to try to cool it a little bit down. He nodded his head, “Yeah, I’m sorry, we were with the team at the hospital, waiting for (Y/n)’s results” Evan tries to explain to Taylor.

“And she couldn’t do that alone?” she shot back as she took a small sip of her tea and brought the mug down onto the flat surface. Evan was taken by surprise as he didn’t expect Taylor to react the way she just did. “Uhm.. We’re a team. We’re not leaving each other behind.” he spoke as he took place on the opposite side of the dining table, leaning his hands down on the back of the chair. He watched Taylor stirring her spoon in the hot water of her tea.

“Look. I’m sorry I didn’t call you or texted you back. If that’s the thing you’re mad about, then-” Evan tries to apologize, he wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for, but he did it anyways. “It’s okay. It’s fine. Really.” She holds out her hand towards Evan to stop him from talking, as she shoves the chair she was sitting on backwards and starts walking to the kitchen with her cup of tea in her hand.

“You don’t seem fine at all.” Evan says as he pushes his hands off the back of the chair. She placed the full mug of tea on the kitchen counter as she leaned with her palms on the counter. She’s silent. Trying to find the right words. “Taylor… Come on, talk to me. What’s going on?” Evan says as he slowly moves towards the kitchen island now, trying to come closer to her.

With her eyes locked onto the kitchen counter she laughs. “Do you really want to know what the problem is?” her voice sounded somewhat broken. Evan’s voice brought out an almost inaudible yes, but she heard him.

“I was on the scene too.That call of the partly collapsed building that had been split in two” she said. Evan’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. So, she was at the scene? But what had made her so upset that she was mad at him?

”It’s her. Isn’t it?” her broken voice asks him as she keeps her back turned towards Evan. “Who?” his voice immediately asked.

“Come on Buck, I'm not that stupid.” She sighs and pushes herself off the kitchen counter and turns her body around so she is now facing Evan. “I saw the way she clung onto you. The way you looked at her, and cared for her because she was hurt.” her lower back leaned against the kitchen counter now, as she folded her arms over one another.

“Taylor, whatever you saw... it’s not what it looks-“ Evan tries to defend himself as he gets cut off by his own girlfriend. “Then tell me” she shot back at him as she stared right into his soul. “Tell you what?” he could feel and hear his voice slightly rising. “That you love me!” within every word she said, her voice broke more and more.

Evan was silent, he was searching for the words. But he couldn’t say it, not if it was a lie. He had used her all this time, to get closer to (y/n), to make her jealous but it didn’t work. He stayed with Taylor to try and get her attention.

The silence was loud, Taylor had given him enough time to say those three simple words. “Guess I know my answer then.” she says as she storms towards the gaderobe.

“Taylor..” Evan’s voice sounded through the room with her footsteps in the background.

She grabbed the hanger and slid off her coat. “Please wait” he says as his eyes fall onto Taylor as she puts on her jacket and pushes with the back of her hand her red hair over the coat, so it wouldn’t be stuffed into the back of her jacket.

Taylor sighs as she turns around one more time. “I’m done waiting for you, Buck. Why should I be waiting for someone, who’s clearly head over heels in love with someone else?” her voice spoke, and with those words she walked to the door and slammed it shut with a bang.

She was right.

______

(Y/n) put down her mug with tea onto the coffee table as she hopped through the house, trying to put as little weight onto her foot as she could.

She was wearing a brace, luckily her foot was badly sprained. Which means she had to take as much rest as she could, and just let it heal by itself. Right now, she was on pain meds and she at least had to be two weeks off the job, which could be stretched out to three or four, but that was up to how good and fast it would heal.

When the doorbell sounds through the house, (Y/n) turns down the volume of the TV which was currently playing the news and hopped towards the door.

As the doorbell sounds for a second time in ten seconds, a sigh leaves her mouth. “Yeah yeah! Coming!” She calls out. Her hand pushed down the lever of the door, and her eyes met those ocean blue eyes she saw almost every shift.

Evan sounded like he had run the Los Angeles marathon and just got over the finish line. With his arm he leaned against the doorframe, as he heavily breathed.

“Evan? What are you doing here?” She clings on to the door to try and keep her balance, since she was standing like a flamingo and holding her injured foot slightly above the ground. “There’s something I have to say to you.” he said as he was breathing normally again.

“And you couldn’t do that by calling or texting me?” She laughs. Seeing her smile like that made a shiver roll down his spine and his heart almost burst out of his chest. “This is something I'd rather tell you face to face.” he says as he slid both of his hands into his pockets, something he always did when he was nervous.

“Come on in” she says and motioned her head towards the hallway of her home. Evan steps over the threshold, far enough for (Y/n) to close the door. She starts hopping towards the kitchen. “I was just about to drink some tea, do you want anything?”

Evan was in some kind of trance, his heart was beating in his chest. But quickly got pulled out of it when her voice called out his name again. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“You’re a little dreamy tonight, I asked if you wanted some tea?” she asked again as she tried to keep her balance on her one foot and leaned her hip against the kitchen counter. “Yeah, that sounds good, thankyou” Evan answered. He didn’t want tea. He wanted to spill his guts.

(Y/n) grabbed a cup out of the upper cabinet and poured the warm water from the kettle into the mug. “Hey, have you seen that highway pile up on the news where the 133 worked on?” she asks. “I still wonder how pile ups like that keep happening.” she continues, it honestly felt like she was talking to a wall. She had never seen Evan that quiet.

“Hey, you okay?” (Y/n)’s voice asks as she glances at Evan and gets out a tea bag and disconnects the little string which was attached to it. She limped back to the area where the mug was standing on the counter.

“I love you” the words fell off his lips.

A silence that was so loud filled the room. “What?” the word rolled off her lips. Did she actually hear him right?

“I think that I’m in love with you” Evan says again as he stares into her soul.

“Did you hit your head in that collapsed building?” (Y/n) asks as she throws the tea bag she had put into the water, into the bin and makes a bee line to limp towards Evan.

When she’s in front of Evan, she holds up her index finger. “Can you follow my finger?” she asks and starts moving it from the left side of his face to the right side.

“No I didn’t hit my head, and besides we were wearing helmets” Evan says as he wrapped his hand around her index finger and pushed it down.

“Im serious (Y/n)” Evan let her name roll off his lips, which sent a shiver down her entire body. The hairs on her arms were standing up, goosebumps were spread all over her body.

“From the moment I saw you walking into the firehouse, you’ve had my heart.” he sighs. “It has been kind of exhausting to try and get your attention. And trust me I went far. I went so far that I got into a relationship with someone else, to try and make you jealous” Evan is out here spilling his guts.

He continues his rattle “But if you do not feel the same, all you have to do is say so and I’ll walk back out of that door and we can pretend this never happene-“ But before Evan could finish that sentence, he could feel the collar of his jacket getting crushed.

“Oh, shut up Buckley” She grabbed the collar and pulled him closer until her lips connected with his.

A warm feeling was spreading through her body as she felt his hand touching the back of her neck. Evan let his index finger and thumb of his other hand slip onto her chin, as he gently pushed it up to meet his height.

It almost felt like Evan was the air she needed to breathe and she couldn’t survive without it. One hand was still placed on the collar of his jacket. As the other one wandered to the back of his head, slightly pulling the short curls on his head.

She could feel his warm breath tickling her skin, it was almost like she was back in that building again when she opened the elevator and they were that close.

They both were panting, catching their breaths as they both took each other's breath away.

Evan let his forehead fall against hers as he smiles. “So you do like me.. did I make you jealous as well?” his low voice said as a small laugh left his mouth.

“Maybe.. ” she teased him.

[lilyprettyremy]

How to Stop Comparing Yourself & Become Obsessed with Yourself

Okay, let’s get real. If you’re constantly comparing yourself to others, it’s time to break the habit and start focusing on what you want. The key to unlocking your most confident, successful self isn’t about envying others—it’s about using that energy to obsess over your own growth. Ready to start living your best life? Here’s how to ditch the comparison game and become your own biggest fan.

1. Jealousy = Desire. Turn it into your power move. First of all, jealousy isn’t the problem—it’s how you use it that counts. When you feel envious of someone, it’s actually a sign that they have something you want. Instead of spiraling, turn that jealousy into motivation. Want their style? Their career? Their glow-up? That’s your cue to start making it happen for yourself.

Action Steps:

Identify what’s sparking the jealousy. Is it their confidence, career, or lifestyle?

Take a mental note of exactly what you want from their vibe.

Now, turn that feeling into goals. Make a list of what you want and how you’re going to get there. Start working on those goals today, and you’ll be on the path to achieving your desires—without the comparison game.

2. Make self-love your obsession. Self-love isn’t just a trend—it’s the foundation of every confident, successful “it girl” vibe. Your routine should be all about you, honey. Create a daily self-love habit that fills you with positive energy and makes you feel like the queen you are.

Action Steps:

Morning Rituals: Begin your day by setting the tone. Whether it’s writing down affirmations, sipping on lemon water, or practicing some deep breaths—give yourself a good start.

Mental Health TLC: Meditate or journal for 10 minutes each day. Focus on gratitude and remind yourself of your worth.

Body Love: Treat your body like the temple it is. Get moving (dance party, anyone?), drink water, and invest in that skincare routine. A face mask or a bubble bath at the end of the day? Absolutely.

3. Turn Your Energy Into Your Personal Brand. You’re not just a person—you’re a brand. And, like every successful brand, your vibe needs to be on point. Start channeling that energy into building a personal identity that screams confidence, ambition, and success. When you start focusing on what makes you unique, comparison will feel like a thing of the past.

Action Steps:

Define Your Brand: Write down what you want to be known for. What makes you stand out? Is it your chic style? Your brilliant ideas? Your hustle?

Create Consistent Content: Whether it’s posting on social or just being yourself IRL, curate your energy and your image. Share your passions, your story, and your journey.

Presence is Everything: Dress in a way that makes you feel like a million bucks. Stand tall, speak with conviction, and show the world that you own your space.

4. Quiet Confidence is the New Loud. The loudest person in the room doesn’t always win—quiet confidence is what draws people in. Be secure in who you are, and let your presence speak for itself. The best “it girls” don’t need to shout—they simply are.

Action Steps:

Set Boundaries: Protect your energy. Say no to things and people that don’t serve you.

Lead by Example: Be the girl who stays true to her goals without seeking validation. The more you trust yourself, the more others will follow your lead.

Master Your Craft: Whether it’s learning a new skill or becoming the best at what you do, focus on growth without the need for applause. When you shine quietly, it’s magnetic.

Being obsessed with yourself isn’t vanity—it’s self-respect. Prioritize your growth, and watch how the universe responds to that magnetic energy. You’re not just an “it girl”—you’re the girl.

[mythicalmyles]

step brother Toby 🧍👀 (also i hope tomorrow gets better💗 )

After this ask im gonna have too much in my mind lmfaoo

Stepcest/dubcon/manipulation/tobys gross n toxic/bottom male reader

You huffed out, turning to look at the man that was now your brother. You hated the fact your dad had remarried but there was little you could do, he had made his mind up and moved her and her hell spawn into your home.

Toby stared a lot. Especially when you wire nothing but a towel after a hot shower, you tried to push back any thoughts that tried to weasel into your mind. You couldn’t deny his lifeless brown eyes would easily pin you in place, he always had a smirk on his face, like he knew something else no one else knew.

You were stuck alone with him, he sat on his bed, hair messy and unkempt. He’d likely ran his hands through his locks, deciding that was enough. He wore grey sweat pants decorated with stains that showed off his boxers, he was well defined which had initially surprised you. His glasses sat crooked on his nose, his dark bags hanging down his eyes as he stared at the screen infront of him. He had his shirt off, leaving his mouth watering chest on display. He was toxic as hell, always shouting obscenities down the mic. Even if he had done something stupid he’d still blow his top on those around him.

You were usually quick to make yourself scarce during the times he was gaming, instead you lay on your stomach and watched him lazily as anger seared over his features. “Yo-you fuh-fucking bitch!” He suddenly screamed out, throwing the control off the wall and nearly causing you to leap out of bed. It was too late once you’d realised your mistake.

Something evil took over Toby’s face when his eyes landed on you, his lips pulled into a snarl and a horrifying look in his eyes. You felt like a little fawn that had been dropped into the line of sight of a starved wolf. He moved to strike, jumping up just before your brain finally clicked. He was pissed and you must’ve looked like a target.

Fear flooded through you as you scrambled up, desperately praying for escape. Toby literally slammed the thoughts out of your head, sending you fly into the wall. You let out a cry as your body hit the wall, head slamming against the plaster and leaving your head spinning.

He had always scared you, he disappeared for days on end and always came back just that little bit extra terrifying. It was almost like every time he came back he left a little more humanity behind. You had tried so hard to stay out of his way despite sharing a room, you knew he was a ticking time bomb and yet you had stayed any way. You’d long given up on having your room look nice, he always tore it up anyway.

He grabbed your wrists, slamming them against the wall so hard you yelped. “T-Toby, ple-please.” The look on his face let you know just how big of a mistake you had made, he held your arms above your head with one hand while the other wrapped around your throat. His grip was tight and unforgiving, you were positive his nails would leave scars along your neck. You choked out a whimper, tears dripping from your eyes as he choked you to the point of blackout. He stopped just before you fell over the edge and into darkness, pulling away watching as you fell to your knees grasping your neck and choking.

Toby didn’t have any interest in you at first, intent on keeping the worst parts of himself until he was ready to leave. But when he caught sight of that dumb little look on your face it went straight to his cock, he knew you feared him and he relished in it. He was enraged from his game, the idiots in his team sucked. When he caught sight of you after his rage he felt something stir in him, the fear on your face, the way you bit down onto your lip eyeing him like you were about to bolt. He couldn’t have that.

That was how you’d ended up biting onto your sheets, Toby’s cock smashing deep inside of you. You felt your tears rush down your cheeks and soak into your sheets. “You like tha-a-that? Getting fuh-fucked by your big bro-brother?” Toby was insane, his words were lewd and disgusting. Yet your cock leaked between your legs, body shaking as he nailed into you. He left deep scratches in your hips, slamming you back onto his cock.

You couldn’t breathe, he loved the way you struggled underneath him. “S-stop To-toby-y.” You choked out one last time, he knew you didn’t mean it. He knew by the way your back arched, letting his cock slide deeper into you. Your choked moans filled the room along with the sound of him slamming into you, his cock abusing your prostate.

He ripped himself out and flipped you over, baring down at you with a shark toothed grin. He looked terrifying, drool dripping from his mouth as he stared down at you. The sight of his cock slamming into your tight hole was almost enough to spur him over the edge. “Ye-yeah that-thats it baby, ta-ah-take my cock.” He slammed your lips together, tongue forcing its way into your mouth and wasting no time in exploring. You whined into the kiss, feeling both of your saliva dripping down your face and neck.

“Do-dont wor-ry ill take go-good care of you, li-lit-little bro.” Toby’s words left you whining, hands grabbing desperately against his shoulders. You barely had a moment before an orgasm ripped through you, tearing you apart at the seams and leaving you clenching around Toby’s cock.

You clenched hard around him, sobbing and whining as you felt his cum flood your stomach. He flopped down onto you, his weight keeping you pinned down as he lazily ground into you. He ignored your overstimulated cries, content to keep his cock buried in your tight ass. “Suh-such a good b-boy.” Toby muttered, petting your hair as you came down from your high.

[flowerbloomsworld]

𝙊𝙡𝙙 𝙁𝙡𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙨, 𝙉𝙚𝙬 𝙂𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙨

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: After three years together, Sira and Jobe broke up when she left to pursue her dream of studying physiotherapy. Now, back in Sunderland as the team’s physiotherapist, she finds herself caught in a familiar game. Realizing his mistake, Jobe refuses to let her go, determined to win her back. He teases, pushes, and chases her every day, knowing she still feels the same—even if she won’t admit it. Sira fights against it, but in the end, Jobe always gets what he wants, because no matter how much time has passed, their feelings never truly faded.

𝙀𝙣𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙢𝙮 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙜𝙚, 𝙨𝙤 𝙨𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙮 𝙞𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨.

___________________________________________

Sira was organizing her materials when she heard the door open. Without raising her eyes, she already knew who it was. The woody scent, mixed with a hint of sweat, betrayed his presence.

“You never knock before entering, do you?” she murmured, trying to ignore the approaching presence.

Jobe smiled from the corner of his mouth, closing the door behind him. “Knocking is a waste of time. Besides, I know you like my company.”

She slowly lifted her eyes, eyeing him with suspicion. “What now? If you came to cause trouble, you can turn right around.”

He took a step forward, pointing to his shoulder. “On the contrary, I hurt myself during training. I think I’ll need some special attention.” He leaned on the table, his eyes shamelessly wandering over her body.

Sira crossed her arms. “You have an entire team of physiotherapists. Why did you come here?”

Jobe dramatically sighed, sitting on the bench in front of her. “Because I only trust you, doctor.” He smiled slyly, that mischievous smile that always destabilized her. “And because I know your hands are much more careful.”

Sira crossed her arms again. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Do I really need an appointment? I thought I had priority.”

She rolled her eyes. “You have no priority in anything.” She stood up and walked toward the treatment table. “Take your shirt off.”

He raised an eyebrow. “If you wanted to see me without a shirt, you could’ve just asked.”

“Jobe.” Her tone was firm, but her eyes betrayed a hint of amusement. She took a deep breath, trying to maintain composure.

He slowly obeyed, pulling the shirt over his head and revealing his well-defined muscles. “I saw you looking,” he murmured with a playful grin.

Sira huffed, grabbing her gloves. “Stop it, I’m just doing my job.”

“Of course,” he teased, leaning forward a bit. “And when your hands slide over me, it’s purely professional, right?”

She took a deep breath, determined to ignore him, but when she turned her back to continue her work, she felt his gaze burning into her.

“You know those pants look perfect on you?” he commented, blatantly.

She spun around instantly. “Jobe!”

He raised his hands in mock innocence. “I’m just telling the truth. You always taught me to be honest.”

“You’re hopeless.” Sira closed her eyes for a second, trying to find patience. “Now, sit up straight.” She approached him, examining his shoulder. The area was slightly swollen. “Does it hurt here?” she pressed with her fingers.

Jobe let out a low sigh, but a grin played on his lips. “A little. But I think a kiss would help.”

Sira took a deep breath, trying to stay focused. “If you keep with this nonsense, I’ll really hurt you.”

Jobe laughed, but stayed in place. When she turned to grab an anti-inflammatory cream, she felt a light tap on her behind.

“Ouch!” Jobe exclaimed immediately, clutching his shoulder.

She spun around on her heels, incredulous. “Are you kidding me?!”

He raised his hands, holding back a laugh. “Calm down, doctor. I was just testing if my arm still has reflexes.”

Sira narrowed her eyes. “Test it another way before I give you a real injury.”

He smiled, leaning in a little closer to her. “If you’re going to hurt me, at least do it with care.”

She intentionally pressed his shoulder, making him let out a groan of pain. “That was with care.”

Jobe winked at her. “If that’s how you treat your patients, I think I’ll hurt myself more often.”

Sira rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the heat rising in her body. “You never get tired, do you?”

He smiled. “Of you? Never.”

She finished applying the cream and stared at him, trying to keep her seriousness. “Done. Now, try not to hurt yourself on purpose just to come here and annoy me.”

“I’m not promising anything.” Jobe struggled to put on his shirt, but didn’t lose his composure. “By the way, I’m going to need some special treatment later. In my room. Special treatment.”

Sira stared at him, incredulous. “You’re unbearable.”

Before leaving, he leaned slightly toward her. “Ah, doctor, next time you want me to take my shirt off, just ask with care.”

“Get out before I throw something at you,” she threatened, grabbing a towel.

He pretended to enter the room again, and Sira threw the towel at him, watching him laugh as he left through the door. She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile threatening to appear.

×

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ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ♡

[cozymochi]

What is your secret/tips when it comes to analyzing the art style and anatomy of TWST? 👀

Studying the rest of Toboso’s work as it was presented over time and how it evolved, identifying it, noting the patterns, breaking down how she came to the visual conclusions she did on top of what process is probably being taken in regards to twst, and putting that into practice when going off the beaten path to do my own thing with it.

I don’t know if that makes any sense. It’s just master studies. I’ve done it with Takahashi, Toriyama and a myriad of other artists I’ve liked. It’s kind of why my junk can kinda shift around when I feel like it. I have some gripes with that links wording, but it’s basically just that and not some grand secret. I only really came to a better understanding of how twst is constructed extremely recently when I got my physical hands on the first artbook. Then I realized how much I was overthinking. [shitty scans are my own]

You can even see the ghost lines and more of the uncertainties on where elements should go, and how they were ultimately changed.

Something about seeing the original card art completely broken down with notes and without all the bells snd whistles (and definitively from Toboso herself) kind of put into perspective how twst isn’t as complicated it seems to be when it’s cleaned up. It might be just me, but looking at a solely finished work can potentially skew someone’s perspective, especially if the only thing being noted is coloring- a completely seperate step altogether. Which I see a lot of, tbh. I’m not exempt no matter how deep in the rabbit hole I get.

But—

But, I probably shouldn’t be the one talking since I have like… [redacted] years of having a trained eye for that sort of thing.

I’m not too concerned about coloring ( again, separate step, and not even done by her), it’s the drawing part. That’s the actual meat and potatoes. So, someone could see competent twst coloring mastered but the drawings themselves aren’t really following the general processes at play, and folk will still call it the “twst style.” So, whenever anyone says that, even here, I’m not sure what others mean by that. What is this alleged “twst style?” (Disclaimer: Rhetorical)

Yeah it’s a combination of every element at once (as every style is), but as far as my learning goes- I define the quote “twst style” is just Yana Toboso’s general artwork (notably from the 2020s, but the rest are helpful). Even if there are other artists in D-6th that are contributing. They’re all essentially trying to accomplish a unified look and that unified look is based off of hers. So, I don’t find looking at just twisted wonderland itself all that beneficial, low key. I’ll look over Black Butler, her miscellaneous fanart, her disney fanart, whatever happens to cross my path that I think would be informative for my purposes. Again, I’m not looking at every possible thing ever, obviously, just what I think would be informative.

I’m not sure how often anyone thinks about that. Especially since her visual process just carries over nearly 1:1, even if her point of reference and intent on designing something changed.

It’s like how Snake from Black Butler and Silver look pretty similar. No, it’s not from being “lazy” which- side note I hate those bad faith reads, total peeve.

Designing Snake and designing Silver came from two completely separate and unrelated intentions nearly a decade apart from each other. It just happens there are tropes that she clearly likes as an artist when designing characters. I’m more inclined to believe based on what I’ve read and practiced that it’s just a case of that, nothing more.

Which makes me reflect on a lot of my own repeated visual tropes. Such as how a lot of my female character designs always end up having some form of short curly hair, meanwhile the male characters keep having long hair 😩 God knows the wavy asymmetrical swoop bang rearing it’s head. It’s not intentional, but it keeps happening anyway.

That’s the kinda joint I’m talking about with master studies. Again, not just looking at something and trying to mimic it, it does go into trying to break down the process even at that level.

All this reminds me of this conversation I overheard in college while I was stuck doing printmaking work— some person said they, really wanted to draw like the guy who made Naruto since they liked his artstyle. Only for some other guy to cut in like “No, you shouldn’t do that! That’s not original :/ you should figure out your own original style first” or something to that end. I partially wish I butt in to that conversation. I didn’t much like how quick that guy shut that person down either.

Because… That’s… that’s not even remotely how that works? How can a person even find their own style/voice/whatever without studying the work of someone that came before them? If they wanna draw like that mangaka, then let them learn via that avenue. You can’t work backwards starting from nowhere. I even learned that in character design.

This person would have learned a lot more about how the process works and what works for them in their attempts to understand his style. They’d find their own organically after that. It’d also be more fun for them in the moment since they’re focusing on something they like. Then when it comes time to learn the boring (but important) stuff like fundamentals, they’d be able to articulate themselves more and identify what they’re doing. (Don’t knock art history and bring stuck breaking down meaning in seemingly “useless” stuff.)

But I’m starting to digress on the common “ugh im not original and unique enough if im not immediately doing my own thing from scratch” thing I saw/ overheard too much during my years at that campus. (It also led to me seeing zero progression from beginning to end from those peers)

As for the whole twst art thing, I can’t really tell you what conclusions to draw should any of this be put into practice. That’s not up to me to say.

I’m of the mindset that if you can sufficiently understand at least one art style, you can pretty much do anything else you want.

Take that with what you will.

[elliemarchetti]

Eris Week Day 6: AU/Retellings

Inspired by one of @foxcort’s unhinged prompts because I couldn’t resist although I’m not totally out of my writing/Tumblr hiatus yet. Hope my contribution to @erisweekofficial will still be appreciated even if it’s in Cassian’s POV.

Disclaimer: I know some of you will see this more as Cassian's self-pitying account of an event that highlights his inadequacy as a mate, but in my eyes it's an excerpt of the happy life that awaits Eris and Nesta once her contacts with the Night Court will be reduced to a minimum, only from the point of view of someone who will remain in the past. Still, and for this I turn to the admins of Eris Week, if you find it inadequate for any reason you have every right not to reblog it and I won't bear you any grudge. You guys are amazing, and when my life will be a little more normal I can't wait to read everything that's been written and show some love to all the wonderful fanarts I'm sure the artists have made.

Plot: The Lord of Bloodshed is having the worst time of his life. The heir of Autumn can’t really say the same. This is the famous scene at the Court of Nightmares reimagined with a totally different plot for the whole last book so if it doesn’t really make sense, I’m sorry.

Rating: Explicit

Words: 1529

When the next song began, its notes lighter, the steps easier than the ones they had just engaged in, Nesta didn’t hesitate to take Eris’s hand. She seemed eager, like her partner wasn’t the monster they all told her about but just a good dancer who instinctively knew her body screamed to do those extra, solo turns that had catalysed the attention of the whole room. Cassian realized he wouldn’t have let her go, too worried about the impractical design of her dress, too apprehensive she was drunk on the music and not paying enough attention to her surroundings to succeed.  If he had been in Eris’s place, he would’ve scolded her by the end of the music, dragging her off the dancefloor, while the heir of Autumn studied her with his amber eyes as they chatted amiably, chuckles audible here and there. The General couldn’t hear everything they said, but as they got closer he caught a few scraps, words that made the blood in his veins boil.

“… I didn’t see this side of you…”

He wasn’t smiling, but she met his stare anyway as she responded, suave and flirty. She never spoke to Cassian in that tone, always composed, almost defensive, in the rare occasions their topic hadn’t revolved around training or the thousand obligations they were subjected to due to their roles. Maybe it was because he had never spun her, never murmured sweet nothings in her ear, sentences so refined her mouth twitched to one side. Unable to witness more, he turned to Mor, who watched from beside Feyre and Rhys, her face neutral and aloof. He couldn’t imagine how she was feeling, knowing she was the one who taught Nesta those steps.

“Are you inquiring after my eligibility?” Cassian heard Eris joke, his sharp smile turning into a full-on silky laugh at her reply. As it often happened, he felt inadequate in his vulgarity, in his lack of grace. A brute, as the eldest of the Vanserras liked to define him. There was no room for someone like him by the side of a female capable of carrying a political meeting on her inexperienced shoulders and tear someone’s head from their neck in the same week. That duality, the savage rage and silver fire mixed with a beauty able to bring kings to their knees was too much for him, no matter how many times he had claimed her as his, yet his feet moved instinctively, and he reached the pair at the very end of the waltz, trying to ignore how his tapered fingers had descended into the hollow of her bare back or how her cheeks were flushed.

“Move,” Cassian said coldly, halting their private moment. He stood before them amid the sea of people cradled in black, just another piece of Night, until Eris stared at him down his straight nose, ignoring the burning violence oozing from the warrior’s hazel eyes.

“Go sit at your master’s feet, dog,” he hissed, teeth bared, but Nesta was quick to interject, accepting her mates unspoken offer.

“We’ll play later, Nesta Archeron,” the fireling retorted, putting too much emphasis on her last name for Cassian’s liking, before aiming for the dais. For an instant, really just the time of the song, the General deluded himself that he had won, that he could somehow be the knight in shining armour of the story, the hero who saves the princess from the villain and thus obtains her hand and eternal, unconditional love. Those empty illusions were shattered when he followed her into the dark and suffocating corridors of the Court of Nightmares, when he watched her slender figure enter the chamber assigned to Eris for the duration of his visit, her steps cautious and silent as a cat’s. She barely glanced at the slightly ajar door, too focused on her lover’s eager embrace, and Cassian clenched his jaw at the portrait of carefree happiness.

“You’re tickling me!” she giggled as the snake peppered her neck with light kisses, the sound like a harp strumming high and sweet. From his hiding spot, Cassian saw his nemesis’ half-smile widen as he hooked a finger under one of her dress’ straps and pulled, flooding him with pounding, vibrating jealousy. He had to remind himself to breathe when the silk slid down her chest, briefly exposing one of her breasts before Eris could sweep her to the bed, the impalpable skirt mostly gathered between her parted legs, firmly clutched around his waist. As he feasted on her exposed skin, her body went loose and taunt in so many different places Cassian didn’t know where to focus: she was bent and shaped and directed by her lover, her widened pupils hiding under long lashes thanks to the skill of the fingertips massaging her core. The ghosts of nearly faded love bites revealed themselves on the lower part of her ass as she arched her back in ecstasy and Cassian’s face went slack. It wasn’t him who left those marks on her, the memory of the sleepless night spent together forever imprinted in his memory, so she could only have had other partners, or maybe she had previously entertained herself between Eris’ sheets, protocol be damned. The matter quickly slipped out of his mind when the smell of her arousal flowed and swam around him, clouding his senses as she melted under someone else’s touch. There wasn’t enough space inside him, not in his mind or his heart, for what the situation made him feel, he just knew he was hard under his trousers, his body ready to honour and worship someone he had been unable to keep up with when he had the chance.

He was about to leave to deal with his shame when their gazes met. He would have expected those merciless and cold eyes to pin him to the spot, he supposed she would scream in anger, or perhaps warn Eris with quiet disdain that some beast beneath them was spying on their tryst, but instead her irises glimmered and she let out a moan, her flawless red lips, sin personified, parted to draw a likewise perfect O. As if awakened by that sound, her lover crawled back to her mouth, his hands busy undoing his pompous clothing. Cassian knew what was about to happen, he had watched and performed this dance for centuries, in the frenzy of inexperienced youth and in the blind search for solace when the need was too much. He had fucked females on all fours like some kind of wild animal, knees hurting on marble floors and feet losing their grips in the mud, in a foolish attempt to fill the void left by Nesta, but no one showed on their features the pure, feral delight that crashed on his mate’s face when Eris entered her all at once, like a conqueror of death, glowing as he devoured moonlit skin and shared heartbeats. Between one fast thrust and the next, he lifted Nesta’s arms above her head, their matching rings glinting as if lit by an inner fire. He guided her through the orgasm with ease and they came together, a rising cacophony of panting and groaning.

“I hope you’re with child,” he whispered, his words so shocking they made Cassian audibly gasp. There was no way he hadn’t heard the sound, even lost in his unchecked, dark joy, yet he decided to ignore it.

"Why so?" she murmured seductively, gleaming with wanton desire as she drank in his expression, whatever it was. She didn’t seem to object the idea, nor she sounded eager to postpone it as long as she could.

“It would give us an excuse to speed up the organization of this wedding. I know my father wants it to exude power, to convey all the strength of our family, and my mother wishes for every detail to be perfect, but I’m growing tired of this façade,” he replied honestly, then lovingly erased a smudge of kohl from the corner of her left eye, a remark of the familiarity they shouldn’t have had yet.

“She has no daughters and I have no mother,” she pointed out, amazing Cassian with the nonchalance she used to address her traumatic past. “Let her have fun.”

“I know, and I will never show even a hint of displeasure when she will inevitably take you away for the whole day to pick the best party favours and select the optimal spot to best showcase the sheer magnitude of the orchestra you so wisely selected, but the only thing I aspire to is to finally be able to get away from the intrigues and the backstabbing for a while, to travel wherever we want and show you all the wonders Prythian and the Continent has to offer,” he confessed, and Nesta kissed him again, dangling her love and triumph in Cassian’s face, a silent dismissal to whatever his role had been in her night.

Slowly, the fearsome Lord of Bloodshed retreated in the shadow, engulfed in a cocoon of grief and rage at the Mother’s mistake, the sound of his shattering heart deafening in his eardrums.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Absence | Sebastian Sallow x OC #43

Things have been working out a bit too smoothly for these two so… just a little drama

Summary: After a week of Sebastian coming to bed late, Evangeline snaps, telling Ominis that he has been sneaking around at night. They discover that Sebastian has been breaking into the Restricted Section, bringing up old fears and culminating in Evangeline confronting him.

Words: ~5,200

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Protective Friends, Drama (With a Happy Ending), Angst, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Mutual Pining, Longing, Jealousy, Unspoken Feelings, Happy Ending :)

Timeline: Mid April

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The soft, flickering light from the fire in the Undercroft did little to cut through the heaviness that surrounded Evangeline. The shadows of the room stretched long across the stone walls, and the warm, familiar comfort of the place—her refuge from the rest of the world—now felt oddly hollow. She lay beneath the blankets, staring up at the ceiling, her mind racing.

Sebastian was late. Again.

Normally, by this hour, he’d be here beside her, lying on the other side of the bed—always there when she needed him, always close enough to reach out and feel the steady warmth of him, whether in conversation or silence.

But tonight, she was alone.

Her thoughts drifted back to the last few weeks. Their quiet bond had shifted, deepened, as the lines between friendship and something more blurred without ever being defined. Whether it was lingering touches—his fingers brushing lightly against her wrist as they walked together, the subtle press of his hand to her lower back as he guided her through doorways, or those private smiles they exchanged when no one else was watching, there was no denying that whatever this was between them. And yet, nothing had been said. No promises, no declarations. Just the quiet comfort of his company, of him being there, and the knowledge that something unspoken passed between them.

And yet, for the past week, Sebastian had started arriving later and later to the Undercroft. This wasn’t the first time he’d been caught up in something, distracted by his interests or various obligations. Evangeline understood that. But this was different. His absences had become more frequent, stretching longer than ever before, to the point that every night this week, she was left lying in the quiet of the Undercroft, waiting for him to return.

It wasn’t like him. He had always been reliable—always there when she needed him, even if it was just for a few quiet moments together before they went to sleep. Now, those moments were slipping away, and Evangeline was left with nothing but the silence and the unsettling feeling that something had changed.

What was he doing? Where was he going? Would tonight be the night he came later still? Was he growing bored of her? Or worse—had he started seeing someone else?

The thought sent a sharp, sudden pang through her chest. They hadn’t spoken about what was happening between them—whatever this was—but she wanted to believe in him. She wanted to trust that whatever it was, it was enough.

But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop wondering: If he wanted her, truly wanted her, wouldn’t he have said something by now? Wouldn’t he have made it clear that she was the one he wanted, that there was no one else? Why hadn’t he said it? Why hadn't he claimed her?

Evangeline's thoughts began to race faster, an overwhelming sense of insecurity washing over her. What if he was only interested in her for fleeting moments of companionship? What if she was just a comfort for him to enjoy in private, but not enough to make a commitment in public?

She sat up from the bed, the blankets falling in a soft heap around her waist as she swung her legs over the side. She couldn’t stand it any longer—this waiting. The unanswered questions that twisted inside her chest.

Her heart thudded uneasily as she moved toward the door, her steps light, almost cautious, as if she were afraid to disturb the peace of the night that felt anything but peaceful. She didn't know exactly what she intended to do, but she knew she couldn't sit here torturing herself until Sebastian showed up.

With a quick glance over her shoulder, she left the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. The corridors of Hogwarts were impossibly quiet at this hour, save for the occasional whisper of the wind rattling through the windows. Evangeline walked swiftly, her heart beating faster with each step, her thoughts whirling. She tried to tell herself she was being irrational, that she was overthinking things, that Sebastian had just been caught up in something benign. But it didn’t make the uncertainty go away.

With a resolve that she couldn’t entirely understand, she found herself standing in front of the Slytherin common room, her breath catching in the cool air. The large door was guarded by the serpentine emblem, and the faint glow of torchlight reflected off of it. She raised her hand and knocked—soft at first, then louder, harder, frustration giving her a sharper edge.

The sound echoed through the hallway, and Evangeline didn’t care if she woke anyone up. She couldn’t stand being alone with her thoughts any longer. She knocked again, her patience thinning. She needed someone to talk to, someone who wouldn’t judge her, someone who would just listen.

Ominis.

Finally, the door creaked open, revealing an annoyed and sleepy looking Prefect.

"What in Merlin's name is going on?" the Prefect muttered, rubbing his eyes and squinting into the darkness. "It’s the middle of the night—what do you want?"

Evangeline barely looked at him, her gaze fixed on the common room behind him. "I need Ominis," she said, her voice shaky but firm. "Please. It’s urgent."

The Prefect’s tired expression softened for just a moment as he surveyed her face, the distress written all over her. "Fine," he sighed, rolling his eyes as he retreated back inside.

The door slammed shut in her face, and Evangeline began to pace the length of the corridor, her mind a whirlwind of anxious thoughts. She pressed her palms against her eyes, trying to push away the sting of unshed tears that threatened to overwhelm her.

A few minutes passed, though they felt like hours, before the sound of footsteps interrupted her spiraling thoughts. The Prefect returned, Ominis close behind him, his bleary expression quickly giving way to concern as he took in Evangeline’s frantic posture.

"Evangeline," Ominis said softly, his voice rough from sleep but laced with care. "What’s wrong?"

She didn’t answer immediately, her words tangled in her throat. Instead, she just shook her head. Ominis stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder, his touch grounding her in the moment.

"Come on," he said, his voice gentle. "Let’s get you out of the hallway."

Ominis led her through the silent, dimly lit corridors, the only sounds their soft footsteps against the cold stone floor. When they finally reached the Undercroft, Ominis opened the hidden entrance with practiced ease.

Evangeline hesitated before moving to the small bed tucked in the corner. She sat on the edge, her shoulders slumping under the weight of her thoughts. Her fingers began twisting together in her lap, a nervous habit Ominis had come to recognize as a sign of her inner turmoil. She stared down at them as though they held the answers she desperately sought.

Ominis crossed the room without a word, settling into one of the chairs across from her. The wooden creak of the chair legs echoed in the stillness. He leaned forward slightly, his hands clasped in front of him, and though his sightless eyes stared past her, his focus was unwavering.

"So, given that Sebastian isn’t here..." Ominis began quietly, his tone both gentle and probing.

Evangeline’s chest tightened, but she forced herself to swallow the swell of emotion threatening to overtake her. "He’s been coming to bed later and later. I’ve been waiting for him to say something, to explain—but he hasn’t."

Ominis’ brow furrowed deeply as he listened, his sharp mind working to unravel the threads of Evangeline’s worry. He’d noticed the subtle shift between her and Sebastian since the Equinox Ball—the fleeting touches, the lingering gazes, the moments of quiet that carried a gravity beyond mere friendship. But this—Sebastian’s nightly absences—was new, and it unsettled him.

The more Evangeline spoke, the more unease curled in Ominis’ chest like a shadow creeping across the room. Memories of past secrets, past mistakes, came rushing back, and he hated the thought of Sebastian slipping into old habits—especially given he was keeping them both in the dark.

When he finally spoke, his voice was steady, but there was an unmistakable edge. "I didn’t realize Sebastian’s been disappearing at night... If I’m honest, I thought you two were practically inseparable these days."

Evangeline’s shoulders sagged under the weight of her fears, her lip trembling as she tried to keep her composure. "I don’t understand it either," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She swiped quickly at her eyes, brushing away tears before they could fall. "And I can’t even sleep when he’s not here. When I try, it’s just more nightmares."

Ominis’ hand stilled on the armrest of his chair, his fingers curling into a fist as a surge of protective anger flickered through him. Leaning forward, his voice dropped to a low, deliberate tone. "Do you have any idea where he’s been going?"

Evangeline shook her head, her gaze fixed on the floor as she let out a soft, humorless laugh. "No. He hasn’t said a word. Just acts like everything’s normal during the day." Her fingers twisted nervously in her lap, a habit Ominis recognized as a sign of her turmoil. "I’ve tried to wait. To be patient. But the longer this goes on, the worse it feels, Ominis." Her voice broke, raw and unguarded. "And the more I wonder... if he’s off seeing Chelsea again. Or someone else. He used to do it all the time. What if I’m just... just here to keep him company until someone better comes along?"

Ominis exhaled slowly, the weight of her words pressing down on him like a storm cloud. He knew Sebastian’s history better than anyone—the fleeting flings, the flirtations that rarely lasted, the way he charmed his way into people’s hearts only to leave them behind. It was a pattern as familiar to Ominis as the walls of the Slytherin common room. So Evangeline’s fears? They weren’t unfounded.

But this was different. Ominis was certain of it.

Sebastian might be reckless, even foolish, but he wasn’t stupid (something Ominis would never admit to his face). Sebastian wouldn’t do that to Evangeline, the girl who had stood by him through his highest triumphs and his deepest failures. Not to the woman who was, without a doubt, the love of his life.

"I understand why you might think that," Ominis said carefully, choosing his words with precision. "I know how Sebastian’s been in the past. But you’re not just anyone to him, Evangeline. He’s different with you. He might be keeping things from you—foolishly, I��ll grant you—but I refuse to believe he’d ever lead you on or treat you as disposable."

Evangeline’s eyes flickered up to meet his, doubt clouding her hazel gaze. "How can you be so sure?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "We’ve never even talked about... whatever this is between us. It’s all just been unspoken, and now he’s keeping things from me. Why, Ominis?"

Ominis leaned forward, his gaze steady and unwavering. "Because Sebastian is still Sebastian. He's a bloody idiot. But it doesn’t mean he’s playing you. Whatever’s keeping him distant, it isn’t about you. You’re not the problem. The problem… is something else. Something deeper." He paused, his expression darkening as his mind turned over the possibilities. His voice dropped, turning grave. "Given he's hiding this from us... I fear he may be sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong."

Evangeline stiffened at his words, a chill settling in her chest as her mind raced. The memory of fifth year came rushing back, the cold knot of fear tightening in her stomach. She had felt this before—back when Sebastian’s reckless behavior had spiraled out of control, when he’d made choices that had endangered not just himself, but her and Ominis as well. It wasn’t just his daring streak that worried her now; it was the secrecy, the same suffocating silence that had caused so much chaos before.

"He's obviously up to something he doesn’t want us to know about," Her hazel eyes lifted to Ominis, dark with worry and laced with the beginnings of frustration.

Ominis sat back, his expression grim as he processed her words. His fingers tapped a slow rhythm on the armrest, a rare sign of agitation from someone usually so composed. "It does feel familiar, doesn’t it? The late nights, the secrecy... And if he’s keeping this from both of us, that means he knows we’d try to stop him. And that alone makes me uneasy."

"So, what are we going to do about it? Just wait for him to decide we’re worthy of the truth? Or…" Her voice trailed off, the bite of helplessness threatening to choke her words. She clenched her fists in her lap, desperate for a solution but wary of overstepping.

"For now," Ominis said, his tone firm and decisive, "we do nothing. Not yet. We’re in no state to confront him right now, and going in blind would only make things worse." He hesitated, then added, his voice softening, "Tomorrow night, I’ll follow him. I’ll find out where he’s going and what he’s been hiding. But tonight, we should rest."

Evangeline nodded, conceding to Ominis’ logic. There was no point scouring the castle for Sebastian at this hour, not when exhaustion and uncertainty weighed so heavily on her.

With a quiet sigh, she lay back on the bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. The soft fabric did little to soothe the ache in her chest, but she clung to it nonetheless, as though it might shield her from the storm of thoughts swirling in her mind. Ominis, ever steady, settled into the armchair near the bed, his posture rigid but his expression calm. He wouldn’t leave her alone tonight—not when she so clearly needed someone nearby.

She was grateful for his presence. She always was. But tonight, it wasn’t enough. The space between her and Sebastian felt too vast, too insurmountable, and no amount of Ominis’ quiet reassurances could fill it. That void was a chasm she didn’t know how to cross, and it stretched wider with every passing moment.

The room fell into a heavy silence, the kind that pressed down on her like a weight. Ominis sat still, his own thoughts a quiet hum in the air, while she stared at the canopy above her, willing herself to find some semblance of peace.

Hours slipped by, measured only by the soft crackling of the fire in the hearth and the rhythmic rise and fall of their breaths. Sleep came in fits and starts, fleeting and fragile, as the silence and the dim glow of the fire stretched endlessly into the night

~

The following day unfolded with an unsettling calmness, as if the castle itself had conspired to mask the tension that lingered beneath the surface. Lessons were attended, meals were eaten, and conversations were held, all with a veneer of normalcy that felt both comforting and suffocating. Yet, for Evangeline, every tick of the clock carried a quiet, gnawing unease. The unanswered questions, the hollow absence where Sebastian should have been—they shadowed her every step, a weight she couldn’t shake no matter how hard she tried to focus on the mundane rhythm of the day.

By the time night fell, exhaustion had settled in her bones, but it brought no solace. When Evangeline crawled into bed, she didn’t bother with the usual pretense of waiting for Sebastian to appear. There was no point anymore, not when he’d made it so abundantly clear that he wasn’t coming. She had already resigned herself to the ache of his absence, to the quiet sting of wondering what could possibly be more important than facing her.

Pulling the covers up to her chest, she lay in the dimly lit room, her thoughts heavier than the darkness pressing in around her. Her mind flitted to Ominis, who had promised to follow Sebastian tonight. It was a fragile thread of hope—one that Evangeline clung to as she lay there alone in her and Sebastian's bed.

It wasn’t long before Ominis returned to the Undercroft, his face a storm of barely contained anger. His jaw was clenched tight, and his usually composed demeanor seemed ready to shatter. Evangeline felt the weight of his silence even before he spoke. The tension was suffocating, and the look on his face told her everything she didn’t want to hear. Her heart sank.

“Where is he?” she asked, the panic rising in her chest as she sat upright, gripping the edge of the blanket.

Ominis hesitated, his fists clenching at his sides, the lines of his face sharp with frustration. “The Restricted Section,” he finally said, his voice low and simmering with barely restrained anger. “I followed him. He’s been sneaking there at night, Evangeline—again.”

The words hit her like a curse, knocking the air from her lungs. The Restricted Section. All at once, memories of fifth year surged forward, raw and unrelenting. The reckless pursuits, the forbidden magic, the choices that had left scars none of them could ever fully heal. She had thought that was behind them. For two years, she had believed he had changed, that they had all moved forward.

But now? Now it seemed he was slipping back into the same destructive spiral. The betrayal, the frustration, the heartbreak—it all came rushing in, crashing over her like an unrelenting tide.

“Why?” The word escaped her lips before she could stop it, her voice trembling with equal parts fury and devastation. “What the hell is he thinking? After everything, Ominis—after all that we’ve been through, why is he going back there and hiding it?”

Ominis exhaled sharply, his frustration as palpable as her anger. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice tight. “I don’t know what he’s doing, or why he’s doing it. But, Evangeline, you can’t—”

“I have to,” she cut him off, throwing back the covers and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Her feet hit the cold stone floor with purpose, her movements sharp and determined. “I can’t just sit here. I won’t. I’m not going to let him destroy himself or drag us through that nightmare a second time.”

“Evangeline,” Ominis said firmly, stepping forward, his voice tinged with desperation. “Think for a moment. Barging in there isn’t going to fix this. You’ll only make it worse.”

Her hazel eyes blazed as she looked at him, her chest heaving with the intensity of her emotions. “And do nothing? Is that better?” she demanded. “We almost lost him last time, Ominis. I won’t stand by and watch it happen again.”

Before Ominis could stop her, Evangeline was already moving toward the door, her mind locked on one singular purpose: finding Sebastian and demanding answers. The storm of rage and hurt inside her had grown too powerful to contain, spilling over into swift, determined action.

Ominis called after her, his voice sharp with concern, tinged with frustration. But she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. Her chest was tight with emotion, her heart pounding in her ears, drowning out everything else.

The chill of the night air hit her as she stepped out into the castle corridors, her bare feet moving silently over the cold stone. She hadn’t bothered with shoes, nor had she thought to change from her pajama shorts and tank top. She didn’t care. She couldn’t be bothered to care.

She stormed through the halls, her thoughts blurred with anger, fear, and betrayal. Luckily, she didn’t need to think, didn’t need to watch her surroundings. Evangeline had done enough of her own sneaking around to know the corridors of Hogwarts better than most, and she was on autopilot, weaving through the castle like a ghost.

She didn’t slow her pace until she reached the library, her steps purposeful and quick, driven by a roiling mix of anger and fear. The familiar scent of parchment and dust barely registered as she slipped inside, her movements fluid and precise, honed by countless evenings spent navigating the labyrinth of bookshelves unnoticed.

When she reached the entrance to the Restricted Section, her heart clenched, and a knot of dread tightened in her stomach. Her fingers hesitated for the briefest moment, brushing over the cold wood of the door, before she steeled herself. Whatever Sebastian was hiding, she was done waiting for answers.

Carefulness abandoned, she raised her wand and flicked it sharply. The lock clicked open with an audible snap, the sound sharp in the stillness of the library. She shoved the door forward, her momentum carrying her into the dimly lit room.

“Who’s there?” Sebastian’s voice immediately cut through the air as he spun around, his wand drawn in an instant.

With a slow, deliberate step forward, Evangeline let her Disillusionment Charm drop, stepping into the flickering torchlight. Her heart hammered in her chest as her eyes met his.

Sebastian’s hand tightened around his wand, and his eyes flashed with a mixture of disbelief and guilt.

"Evie—"

"What the fuck are you doing here." Her voice came out low and dangerous, the words edged with raw fury. The words hung in the air between them, heavy with Anger. Betrayal. Fear. All of it crashing together in a single question.

Sebastian’s eyes flicked over the scattered books around them. “I’m not— I didn’t come back here for—”

"How could you do this?” she whispered, her voice cracking like glass. The words seemed to tear her open, and Sebastian could see the rawness in her eyes. "Sneaking around in the dead of night like it’s nothing? Keeping it from me? From Ominis?!"

Sebastian's heart twisted painfully in his chest at the sight of her—vulnerable, confused, and hurt. “Evie, please, listen—”

“No!” She cut him off, her voice rising, and he could hear the pain cutting through each word. “You’ve been sneaking around—lying to me—after everything we've been through, Sebastian. After everything I’ve done for you!"

Sebastian’s mouth opened and closed, a desperate search for words that refused to come. “It’s not like that,” he said, “I swear, it’s not.”

“Then what is it like?” she demanded. “You’re sneaking around in the middle of the night, messing with Merlin knows what in the Restricted Section, and you think keeping it from me—keeping it from us—is somehow better? Safer? You promised, Sebastian. You promised me you were done with this. That we’d never go back to... to this.” Her voice cracked, the weight of her hurt pouring into her words.

Sebastian's throat was dry, his mind a mess of tangled thoughts. He didn’t know how to explain. “Evie, I never meant to hurt you or scare you,” he rasped, the words dragging out of him as though they were strangling him. “It’s just… I didn’t know how to tell you. I thought you’d think this was foolish, or worse, that this would be another burden for you.”

Evangeline’s jaw tightened, her arms crossing over her chest like a shield. “So instead, you shut me out,” she said, her voice sharp but trembling with emotion. “You decided for me. You didn’t even give me a chance!”

Her words hit him like a blow, and he flinched, guilt twisting in his chest. “I wasn’t trying to shut you out,” he said quickly, his voice rising with his urgency. “I was trying to protect you.”

“Protect me?” she repeated, incredulous. Her eyes blazed with fury, but underneath, he could see the hurt—deep and raw. “From what, Sebastian? From you?"

The question crushed him, its weight too heavy to bear. Before he could think better of it, Sebastian was moving, his hands reaching out and pulling her into his arms. She stiffened for only a heartbeat before her composure broke entirely, the dam of her emotions shattering as she dissolved into quiet, shuddering sobs against his chest.

“Evie,” he murmured, his voice soft and full of regret, his hands cradling her protectively. “I’m so sorry. Don’t cry, please. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never meant to make you feel like this.” He tightened his hold, as if trying to physically shield her from the pain he’d caused. “I’m here. I’m right here. I promise, Evie, it's not what you think."

“Sebastian, please, just...” she whispered brokenly. “Just tell me what the hell you're doing here.”

His hands gently cupped her face, guiding her gaze to his. Her eyes were red and swollen, and it made his chest ache with a kind of desperation he hadn’t felt in years. Two years, to be exact.

"Everything I’ve been doing, I’ve been doing for you.”

For a long moment, she just stared at him, her face streaked with tears. Her confusion was palpable, and it made his stomach twist with fear.

“For me?” she asked, her voice so soft it made his heart ache. “How? How could this be for me?”

Sebastian took a steadying breath, his heart racing with the weight of his confession. “I’ve been studying ways to strengthen the defenses around the repository."

Evangeline’s brow furrowed, and she took an involuntary step back, her eyes wide with confusion and disbelief. “What… what do you mean?”

Sebastian swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he searched for the right words. “I know how much you’ve given up to keep it safe—to keep it from falling into the wrong hands. The sacrifices you’ve made, the nightmares… I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing anymore. I wanted to find a way to make sure it stays protected. To keep you safe.”

Her head shook reflexively, her voice trembling as she struggled to process his words. “I don’t… I don’t understand. How could you possibly—”

He stepped closer, gently cupping her face in his hands. “Evie, I know what you’ve been through. I know how it haunts you—the weight of it all, the constant fear of losing control.” His voice cracked slightly, but he pushed forward, his determination outweighing his doubt. “I love that I can help keep your nightmares at bay just by being there. That when I’m with you, you can sleep without reliving everything.” He let out a shaky breath. “But that’s not enough. I don’t want to just hold them back for you. I want to stop them entirely.”

She blinked, her expression softening but still laced with uncertainty. “Sebastian…”

He cut her off gently, his words tumbling out in a rush as he brushed away her tears. “The wards around the repository—they’re strong, yes, but they’re not impenetrable. I thought… if I could strengthen them, then maybe you could finally rest. So I’ve been researching ancient enchantments, ones far older and stronger than anything we’ve seen before. I’ve been digging through texts, experimenting, trying to find a way to make them truly unbreakable.”

Her lips parted, but no words came. She simply stared at him, her hazel eyes shining with a mixture of disbelief and something else—something softer. “You’ve been doing all of this… for me?” Her voice was small, fragile, as if she couldn’t quite bring herself to believe it.

Sebastian’s throat tightened, and his grip on her face faltered for just a moment. “Yes,” he admitted, his voice raw and unguarded. “I realize now this isn’t the way I should’ve done it. I should’ve told you from the start, Evie. I should’ve been honest. But I—” He stopped, his words catching in his throat as he looked at her, his gaze filled with an aching vulnerability. “I wanted to carry the burden for you. You’ve already sacrificed so much, and I—”

Evangeline’s arms wrapped around him with a force that stole the breath from his lungs, pulling him into an embrace so fierce and unrelenting it left him momentarily stunned. For a heartbeat, he froze, caught off guard by the sheer intensity of her hold. But then, as her warmth seeped into him, as her trembling form pressed against his, he melted into her. His arms came up slowly, then tightened around her, pulling her closer as the weight of the moment settled over them like a heavy, quiet storm.

He felt the dampness of her tears soaking through the fabric of his shirt, their warmth bleeding into his skin. It didn’t matter. None of it did. All that mattered was that she was holding him—not turning away, not pushing him into the shadow of his own regrets.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered against him, her voice raw and frayed at the edges. It cracked with the weight of her emotions, and he felt it like a knife to his chest. “I didn’t know… I didn’t know you were trying to help me.”

Her hands fisted into his shirt, gripping him as if she feared he might disappear if she let go. It was a desperate, trembling hold, as though she wanted to anchor herself to him completely.

When she finally spoke again, her voice was small but steady, each word measured and deliberate. “I was so angry… I thought you were hiding things because…” She paused, the words catching in her throat. He felt her shoulders shudder as she pressed her face harder against him. “Because you were falling into old habits. I thought you were slipping away again. But now…” she continued, her voice trembling but gaining strength. “I see it. I see what you were trying to do. And I’m sorry, too. For assuming the worst of you. For doubting you.”

Her admission wrapped around him, each word landing with the weight of something he hadn’t realized he’d been waiting to hear. His hand came up to gently cradle the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair in a gesture meant to soothe, though he wasn’t sure who it was meant to comfort more—her or himself.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Sebastian’s throat tightened. "I don't blame you for being worried, I... if I were you, I'd have thought the same. I should've said something. I just... I didn’t want to burden you even more, but I should have trusted you.”

Evangeline pulled back just enough to look up at him, her tear-streaked face so close to his. She shook her head slightly.

“No, we both should’ve trusted each other."

Sebastian nodded, his forehead dropping to rest against hers. "No more secrets."

Evangeline blinked, her tears catching the faint glow of the room’s light as they streaked down her cheeks. A faint smile tugged at her lips, wobbly and uncertain, but there nonetheless. She lifted her hand, her fingers trembling slightly, and extended her pinky toward him.

Sebastian stared at it for a moment, confusion flashing across his features. “What are you—?”

“No more secrets,” she interrupted, her voice soft but firm. "Pinky promise.”

A laugh bubbled up in his chest, unbidden and disbelieving, but he lifted his hand, curling his pinky around hers.

“I promise.”

Satisfied, she nodded, but she didn’t let go. Instead, her grip tightened, and she tilted her head slightly, her expression shifting to something more serious. “Good. Now, tell me everything.”

Sebastian’s smile faded into a nervous chuckle as he straightened, still holding her pinky with his. “Everything?”

“Yes, everything,” she insisted, her hazel eyes narrowing in mock warning. “If we're going to keep that repository safe—and keep you from going off and getting yourself into trouble—I need to know exactly what you’ve been doing.”

Sebastian sighed dramatically, though the fondness in his eyes betrayed his attempt at exasperation. “Well, alright, since you’ve bound me to this ironclad agreement…” He uncoupled their pinkies and stepped back just enough to lean against the nearest surface, crossing his arms as he began. “But you’d better get comfortable. This isn’t a short story—it’s a saga.”

Evangeline arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into a small, skeptical smile. “Oh, really? A saga, is it? Should I get some popcorn for this?”

“Evie,” he said, his voice dipping into that dangerously charming tone he used whenever he wanted to get his way. “Just sit. Please. If I’m going to talk for hours, the least you can do is make yourself comfortable.”

She hesitated, her narrowed eyes studying him for a moment before she let out a soft sigh. “Fine. But this had better be worth it.” She perched on the edge the worn out sofa in the corner. “There. Comfortable enough for you, Your Highness?”

Sebastian chuckled, pushing off the wall and walking over to sit beside her. He set his notebook on the table between them, flipping through pages filled with cramped handwriting and hastily drawn diagrams. “You’re going to regret that sarcasm when you realize how brilliant this all is.”

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, “Start talking, genius.”

He tapped a finger against the page he’d opened to, a faint spark of pride glinting in his eyes. “Alright, here’s the short version to start with: I’ve been researching ancient protective enchantments—ones designed to hold back curses, dark magic, even elemental forces. Most of the texts are fragmented, but I’ve pieced together enough to start working on something viable. I’ve been testing their applications on smaller wards, trying to see how they interact with modern protections. And that’s just the beginning.”

The hours stretched on as Sebastian spoke, his voice weaving through technical explanations and the occasional humorous aside to keep her engaged. Evangeline asked questions, pushed back on his riskier ideas, and occasionally let out an exasperated sigh at his more reckless tendencies. Still, the tension from earlier had faded completely, replaced by the quiet rhythm of collaboration, trust, and something deeper—the unspoken bond neither of them dared to name.

By the time Sebastian closed the notebook with a satisfying thud, the candles in the room had burned low. Evangeline was curled up against him now, her head against his shoulder.

“So,” she said softly, her voice tinged with both sleepiness and fondness. “That’s the big plan?”

He nodded, curling an arm around her. “That’s the big plan. And now, you’re officially caught up. No more secrets.”

A faint smile played on her lips as her eyes fluttered shut. “No more secrets,” she murmured.

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

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[shrimshrim4fun]

May you please make a part 2 of "Sinners Reacting To you using GenZ slang"?

This one starring Eirene, Thistle, Luvia(and Ray), Lady Pearl, Adela, and Enfer?

Yeah but it might be a bit out of character for Enfer cause I don’t know her (also Luvia Ray) but I hope you enjoy.

Sinners Reacting to you Using GenZ Slang Pt2:

Eirene:

-Confused. Looked at you with an arched eyebrow and asked “Could you elaborate the meaning of….those words you just said?”

-Listened to you very intently like it was a fucking business meaning but at the end she still didn’t get the point of your “meaningless” jokes as she would like to call them

-Though even as she says that she actually once researched what your slang meant, and as she realized what she was doing her face turned red as she shut her computer

-Will sigh when she hears you say it near her or over text. But in private you once caught her practicing it by herself. “I just fanum taxed this company” you once heard her say in her room when she thought you were out

Thistle:

-She probably have heard some of the Sinners her age say it but doesn’t get it. It’s just made up words but you seem to like it

-Notes down the certain things you say in her journal every day. For example, she’ll have little things like: Sigma is a phrase to define someone is superior in looks or appearance. Can also be used in forms like “What the sigma” or “He’s so sigma

-She gets really red if you ever find these small snip its in her journal if you go through it. Stating it’s nothing

-Actually tried a few times to fit in with the younger Sinners by saying stuff like “Let her cook” but always get red afterward due to her straight forward expression and others just looking at her dumbfounded

Luvia Ray:

-Luvia doesn’t really know how to react, so Ray steps in. Ray is more cautious about how you use your words. “What does that mean? Is that a new term to call somone?” She would ask harshly but you quick explain it’s just funny slang and nothing to be took in seriously

-She is skeptical at first but finally accepts it. Luvia doesn’t really use it, but Ray proabably uses it to call creeps that look at Luvia. “Im gonna crash out on that dude if doesn’t stop glaring…”

-Luvia doesn’t really say it but sometimes she’ll talk to herself and when you ask about it she’ll answer with “Sorry…I’m being a bit delulu…is that how you use it in a sentence?”

Lady Pearl:

-Is curious about what you’re saying to say the least. “What are you saying, dear?”She’ll ask curiously as you explain to her

-Sometimes when she’s writing scripts for plays she’ll add in these “new words” she has discovered due to you

-She also sees this as a way to make you go to the plays with her. “But my dear, they are highly inspired by the words you have introduced me to, they are-” you halt her before she continued knowing if you argue any longer she’ll drag it for hours to persuade you.

-Sitting in the seats as the plays roll, a smile on her face as she wanted to see your reaction on how she put the words into the play.

-Though at the end of the play she’ll clap and exclaim loudly “They cooked didn’t they?” You had to stifle a laugh but she didn’t get why

Adela:

-Probably heard it before from the younger Sinners when giving them a haircut. Only chuckled at their words but never really asked

-Started asking because you started to say it around her. “What does that mean exactly?” She asked curiously after some time of you using it. After explaining she finally decided it’s just a way that younger people now have fun

-She’ll sometimes tease you about it but nothing serious. And she’ll also indulge in it a few times before. Mostly when you look stressed she’ll ask “Is the tea pipping hot?”

-Also the type to use the slang to compliment you (more like teasing) Started calling you “her goat” or “the goat” out of nowhere for a few days but stopped after you told her it was a bit embarrassing due to her calm demeanor when she said it

Enfer:

-She views your words as a new form of “art” Though you never got why she explained through a long almost 3 hours of how these words combined through the social class of the “sigma” being timid though reaching and beyond the levels of beauty of wealth while the “alpha” was less timid though the same. How the two contrasted…..yeah you forgot the rest

-Has made several of these words to show as art. All of them somewhat eerie and creepy but she stated “This shows the dynamics between the sigma, alpha, and the goat. The sculpture shows how they all bend together to create the dynamic.”

-Doesn’t care about why other people laughed at her words when she explained to them why the sculpture was influenced by. Would go rant for hours about how the words expanded our imaginations and influenced the way of thinking for us now.

-Probably has a notepad to write the phrases and the meaning/definition it means to her. If you ever flip through it you’ll find the small drawings to help her make sense of the word and other definitions for the word she thinks made sense. “Could you continue to list off some of the words that you have been saying? I find them very intriguing to say the least” She’ll ask 

Sorry if some of them are a little OOC I wasn’t there for some of the events 😞 If you have any thirsts, drabbles, or requests please feel free to interact with my inbox. I hope you enjoyed reading it. If you want a part 3 just ask for characters and I’ll write for them ><

[crystalsenergy]

Draconic charts - meaning & how to read (past life personality)

Draconic charts are perfect for seeing the patterns of our Soul - until now. Therefore, this chart helps us to know our personality in past lives.

You can calculate your Draconic chart here.

The Draconic chart is there to remind us of the path our Soul has traveled - or still needs to travel - to evolve.

No Soul of an incarnated being is perfect. Don't be surprised if, when looking at your Draconic chart, you find many excesses, points that may not even manifest in this life… in my view, the Draconic chart is a snapshot of the points we have chosen to evolve in our Soul, points that we have worked on improving in this current life or in some recent ones.

This is because the Draconic chart, in the end, is directly related to the natal chart. The Draconic chart changes as we reincarnate. "But if it represents the Soul, why does it change?" Soul is not fixed, static, frozen in time.

I have an experience to share regarding a Draconic chart that can help better understand what I want to say above.

I know a person who, in this current life, has a chart somewhat opposite to what they have in the Draconic chart - literally opposite.

In the Draconic chart (which represents the condition of our Soul in most recent lives, accumulated patterns, what we have been, the truths we possess), we see a lot of Scorpio, and in the current natal chart, the person is Venusian, with Taurus in various aspects of personality. By the way, this person feels extremely comfortable with Taurus energy, so if she brought this aspect into this life, it's because her Soul has already taken some steps and integrated this point - that doesn't appear in Draconic chart.

This is because we are not born with the natal chart we have by "the force of the universe". The universe doesn't force anything. We don't have a natal chart that was given to us - instead, we define it. Our natal chart is a reflection of our current personality, and the Draconic chart is a reflection of past life patterns, the primary essence that a person possessed. This primary essence doesn't go away, you feel it there, but it evolves, no longer being just what it was on page 1.

Therefore, I see the Draconic chart as the gateway to understanding the past, but not to becoming imprisoned in it. Many end up imprisoning themselves in the past when trying to understand it. The past is past for a reason, and you have certainly changed. Well, you need to change.

"Paty, but does everything change?" Of course not. Only the necessary. And always according to our own efforts. We talk about this below, when explaining the aspects in Draconic charts.

Exactly for this reason, if the person in the example, who has a lot of Scorpio in their Draconic chart, in this current life integrates exactly the opposite sign very easily, we can conclude that this person has made significant progress in relation to their Soul's patterns. And, of course, there is still more to go.

You see, the Draconic chart is not a chart to focus all the time. This is because it represents the past, what we have accumulated in the Soul from past lives.

Every time a life ends, the lessons that make sense are integrated into the Soul; therefore, the Soul changes with each life. The Draconic chart is not a chart to be focused because if it symbolizes the past, which is merely a foundation for the present, and if we are in evolution, we are not here to look back, but to understand what we have from the past to be used in the current moment and what we still have to change, improve because it's not good yet.

Literally, my intention is to convey the idea that the Draconic chart is not a fixed chart that will not change in other lives. This chart represents the higher state in which your Soul was BEFORE you incarnated, came to this earthly experience.

The Draconic chart represents your patterns before you came here, patterns that may be being repeated or changed, issues that may have become only present or still repeat difficulties. The answer to these questions lies in the relationship between the Natal Chart x the Draconic chart.

And since the Draconic chart is not a goal but rather an awareness of what our Soul has been up to this point, the focus must truly be on the relationship between the current personality we assume and the Draconic chart. It is from these two that we see our evolution… and what state we are in relation to that.

We are beings capable of constantly evolving, and understanding this is to move forward and break the monotony of life. It is letting go of the need to be one thing forever, releasing fixed patterns and attachments to your own way of being, to understand that there is something much greater for you to achieve - to achieve from YOURSELF, always.

💜✨ TIPS FOR READING THE DRACONIC CHART 💜✨

I invite you to focus on reading from the following perspective:

Natal x Draconic

-> the lessons we commit to learning in this lifetime IN RELATION to our Soul's constant dynamics, urges, and patterns. <-

The HOUSES in the Draconic and natal charts are always the same because they represent the karmic contract we made with ourselves (karmic not in a derogatory sense, but in terms of lessons and experiences we agreed to undergo for our evolution, the journey we agreed to embark on).

In this contract, these are the areas we are working very hard to master, refine, evolve. In our lives, we are experiencing different perspectives of the same area until we understand that there don't need to be extremes, but rather integration to become broader and more complete.

✨ ASPECTS in the Draconic chart x natal chart ✨

Oppositions - Lessons through discomfort, learning from the opposite side. If there are oppositions, it appears that the necessary lessons have been developed by you in that area involving both planets. This is because the natal chart, on one hand, represents your current personality, the set of traits developed up to the PRESENT. The Draconic chart, on the other hand, represents your Soul's quests in relation to past lives, accumulated patterns that may need improvement and evolution.

Squares - Squares represent points of tension. To understand a square aspect, we can think of the signs that naturally form this aspect. An example is Taurus and Aquarius. While the former prefers things in an earthly, practical, objective manner, aiming for energy conservation, is solid, consistent, seeks comfort and security; the latter often wanders, prefers a more mental approach rather than practical, seeks reason, mental life rather than sensation, pleasure, tactile experience as Taurus does. They are distinct languages in many ways. The same goes for Aries and Capricorn. They are very different signs. Aries is instinctive, fast, immediate, impulsive, assertive, independent, often prefers something new; Capricorn is traditional, closed, melancholic, restrictive, limiting, conservative, practical, and planning. In the relationship between these signs, many things need to be adjusted or even sacrificed (which is not always good) to achieve harmony. Given all this, when reading the Draconic chart x natal chart, if you see squares, they may represent the greatest opportunity of all to learn, evolve. It will be difficult, yes, but these lessons will take you out of your comfort zone, require effort, awareness, and discipline. The keyword for squares is conflict that generates change, learning that generates growth.

Conjunctions - The joining of forces and efforts. Here, we have a tremendous opportunity for a person to be INCREASING, GROWING, and EXPANDING that point in their Soul's personality that already existed (after all, conjunctions represent the union of forces and energies that are very similar, almost identical, because they involve the same sign). It's important to examine, through an analysis of the natal chart as a whole, whether the person is 1) reaching new levels in that aspect of the personality, evolving, or 2) if the person is in a comfort zone. Conjunctions can represent points of evolution in an issue that has been repeating, meaning that you are getting better and better at what your Soul already possesses (level 1, level 2, level 3, only analogy), or it can, on the other hand, indicate a comfort zone.

Sextile - Aspects of your Soul that you are manifesting very easily in the current life, through action. Observe, through astrological analysis and your intuition, if these aspects of ease in your personality are beneficial. Is it something that represents a strong point, a force, or is it something to be improved, worked on, or even transcended? For our evolution, we cannot continue with the same old patterns if they don't lead us on a good path. If it's something that harms you more than it helps (e.g., a pride pattern), it's something you haven't evolved, learned yet, something to be improved. If the aspect represents a strength, something good (e.g., communication skills), it means a point your Soul doesn't need to evolve, and it's perfectly fine to integrate it into this current life.

Trine - The same applies here. With the difference that with trines, you see points of your Soul that you are manifesting very easily in the current life, without effort. Observe, even more in trines, also through astrological analysis and your intuition, if these aspects of your personality are beneficial. Is it something that represents a strong point, a force, or is it something to be improved, worked on, or even transcended? For our evolution, we cannot continue with the same old patterns if they don't lead us on a good path. If it's something that harms you more than it helps (e.g., a pride pattern), it's something you haven't evolved, learned yet, something to be improved. If the trine aspect represents a strength, something good (e.g., communication skills), it means a point your Soul doesn't need to evolve and it's perfectly fine to integrate it into this current life.

✨✏️ NOTES AND Q&A (some) ✨✏️

You can observe that in the Draconic chart, the cusps of the houses (Ascendant to the 12th house) are, as a rule (we have exceptions, for example, natal Libra Rising, draconic Taurus or Cancer Rising, because of degrees), in the same elements as these 12 houses in the natal chart. For example:

Natal chart: Ascendant in Taurus. Draconic chart: Ascendant in Capricorn.

"Does the draconic chart symbolize what we need to achieve?".

No. The draconic chart symbolizes the patterns of our Soul and what we were before we got here. Soul missions can be seen with the Draconic chart being put together with the natal chart.

To have a better vision of life purposes, missions, what you are here to do, you can calmly focus on your North Node and Midheaven.

And what if I don't understand and don't resonate with my personality in the natal chart but much more with the personality in the Draconic chart?

It indicates spiritual issues of disconnection from the present moment, from your process of evolution, and a focus on the past. The Draconic chart is a chart of the past, past lives, the pattern of your Soul before you incarnated. You need to honor your present a lot and not just the past, because the past serves as a lesson, a foundation, but not as a focus for life because life is movement. The great news is that you are aligned with your Soul (Draconic chart), and that means you need to learn to look at what you are now and accept that you are changing, growing, improving.

[duchessonfire]

Savior Carl!AU re-read Part 1 Chapter 4

Follow-up of my re-read of Part 1 Chapter 3. If you're not interested and don't want to have your dashboard spammed, you can block the tags Duchess reads and Savior Carl AU reread.

Commentary for Part 1, Ch 4 below the cut (spoilers for part 1 ahead):

I've been delaying writing this one, not just because life is hectic, but also because I have so much I could say about this final chapter, I'm not even sure where to start.

First of all, Carl's training with the rifle outside the Sanctuary. I'm really really happy I thought of that because it allowed me to show a lot through this simple activity. It might sound silly, but I always struggle finding Carl things to do around Sanctuary. Let's be real, I have no idea what people do in the apocalypse aside from the usual scavenging for supplies, growing food, fixing broken things and going through weapon training. It's especially hard to think of things at Sanctuary because most of the supplies they get is brought in to them from the communities Negan has subdued. When you're writing a long fic, the challenge is always to find new things for the characters to do, especially in a setting like the apocalypse. The Savior Carl AU is very much a huit-clos, a narrative taking place in a defined and limited space. Carl isn't allowed to go outside in part 1, so the whole story is limited to the space of Sanctuary.

This is both a strength and a potential weakness for the story. Because Carl is the focus of the story and because he stays inside the factory, things will get boring very quickly if his role doesn't change, if the parts of Sanctuary he explores are always the same. This is why the shooting practice in the parking lot was so useful to me: it gave Carl something new to do aside from the guard duty he had done until now and it allowed him to start interacting with the cast of background characters that make up the Saviors and workers of Sanctuary. Same goes for Carl's new job as Negan's assistant.

Now that I'm re-reading this last chapter, I do regret not paying more attention to the fact that Carl entered Negan's room for the first time in this chapter. It's not something I highlighted in any way and I am a bit sad about that. However, I am still very happy with the scene where Carl is looking at the bookcase in Negan's room:

His finger trails over the spine of a book decorated with a bird’s silhouette. “Good choice,” Negan says approvingly, suddenly right behind him, and Carl snaps his hand back. They’re alone in the room now, Simon gone and Negan’s leather jacket draped over the bed, leaving him just in a white t-shirt as he stands behind Carl. It’s truly messed up that all it took was two weeks for Carl to lower his guard around Negan completely, to the point where he can get distracted and snuck up on without any real effort. He remembers Shane telling him about something like that once, how the best way to lull someone into a false sense of safety is to give them a routine, a pattern to repeat day after day at the exact same time, until they lower their defenses, their brains already anticipating the next step in the schedule. He saw first-hand how true that was when Rosita managed to kill her way inside Sanctuary just by memorizing everyone’s guard rotations, armed with nothing but a knife and a gun with one bullet. He wonders suddenly if that’s why Negan gave him a schedule of his own, practicing every morning and then meeting him every day at noon. Was that part of the plan? Giving Carl a false sense of safety, making him lower his guard around him? But Negan just looks relaxed, perfectly at ease with his hands tucked in the pockets of his dark jeans, Lucille forgotten against the coffee table. He smells like soap and spicy aftershave, and his hair is still a bit wet from the shower he took after visiting Sherry upstairs.

This scene is so important to me. If you've been following my end-of-the-year wrapped up posts on Tumblr, maybe you'll have seen that the reason part 1 is tagged Carl & Negan and pre-Carl/Negan is because back when I was writing this story in 2021, I had seen a lot of awful people on Tumblr harassing Cegan shippers and so I was very afraid of writing a fic that was full-on Carl/Negan. Instead, I wrote part 1 as a story that would eventually become shippy, but not yet.

This scene, however, the bookcase scene, is one of the shippiest of part 1. I really wanted to show the new intimacy between Carl and Negan. Carl isn't just in Negan's bedroom, in Negan's private space, but he's comfortable there. So comfortable, in fact, that he doesn't even notice Negan walking up behind him. This is such a huge leap compared to where their relationship was before, the cat-and-mouse schoolyard bullying of the previous chapters. There is no animosity from Carl anymore, no cruelty from Negan. A symbolism that comes back over and over again in the Savior!Carl AU and which I've taken directly from the series is that Negan's leather jacket is an armor and a work uniform all at once. When he wears the leather, he's Negan the Savior, leader of Sanctuary. When he doesn't, he's more ostensibly Negan the man, less guarded and gentler to others. You can see that at several points in the series (he removes his jacket when he's with Carl and Judith in Alexandria but puts it back on when he's playing pool with Spencer, he doesn't have a jacket when he kills Davey to protect Sasha in the cell but he has it back on when he comes to check on her and sees that she put down Davey's corpse).

Carl and Negan have both lowered their guards around each other, and the personal space they keep around each other is similarly reduced:

“You can borrow it if you want. Nothing like a classic.” “It is?” Carl can’t help but ask, frowning back toward the drawing of the bird on the book’s edge. The design makes it look like a children book to him. Negan stares back at him in disbelief. “You don’t know To Kill a Mockingbird?” Carl shrugs, embarrassed at Negan’s tone.   “Seriously? You’ve never heard your parents talking about the book? Or the movie? None of your teachers?” “I was thirteen when I stopped going to school,” Carl says defensively. Negan blinks before sighing dramatically. “Well, at least you’ve never had to sit through a high school analysis of Gatsby. You dodged a serious bullet on that one, kid.” He stretches his arm past Carl’s head, and for a second Carl is trapped, enclosed between the bookcase, the wall, and Negan’s naked arm around him, every single one of the tattoos dotting his skin on display without the armor of his jacket. He takes the book out and hands it to Carl.

That single moment at the end is really the shippiest part 1 gets. Carl is already so aware of Negan's body (his tattoos, his smell, how close they are) while at the same time being in full denial that this awareness comes from sexual attraction. The more time these two spend around each other, the harder it becomes for them to stay apart, for Negan especially. If you look over part 1 (and parts 2 and 3 as a matter of fact), you'll notice Negan is the one always seeking Carl out while Carl has a tendency to find places away from everyone else to brood. This is how the sandwich scene happened in the previous chapter and this how another one of my favorite scenes happens: ✨the rooftop scene.✨

I'm not even going to attempt quoting it here because I'll just end up copy/pasting the whole thing. I love everything about this scene and it still stays with him as one of the most visual moments of part 1, right up there with the moment Carl was shot in the eye and he hallucinates the candy cane Christmas decoration while Negan carries him to the infirmary. Like the eye, the scene of the rooftop is a really pivotal one, and it shifts the entire dynamics of the fic. It's also one of the times in the Savior!Carl AU where I go off-script from canon and fill in the blanks of Negan's past.

“My first time was when I was nineteen,” Negan finally says, breaking the heavy silence left by his confession. Carl finally looks at him, surprised. Negan’s eyes are fixed on the horizon, obviously lost in memory. “I was in college. I had just gotten a scholarship to play football. I played everything back then, football, basketball, baseball, fucking ping-pong, you name it. As long as I was allowed to throw a goddamn ball I was happy. But I got a full ride to Ohio State and it was one of the best moments of my life. I was finally away from my asshole father and doing what I liked. It was the first friendly game of the season, and we were playing against some rich fuckers from a liberal arts college not far. Of course, it was college, so we’d all met at some frat party the night before and the trash talk had gotten out of hand before the game even began. Everyone was playing rough, and I mean it as in, it was a fucking bloodbath. So many players got injured that even my freshman ass got called on the field to play. We’re all riled up, the ref keeps threatening to cancel the match, some fucking cheerleader is crying in the background because her boyfriend lost two front teeth, it’s basically hell and I’m loving every second of it. And then… I tackle this guy and we both fall hard. I actually heard his vertebrae snapping when we both hit the ground. They stopped the game for good after that. I got taken to the hospital, because my fucking collarbone was shattered, but the other kid? Paralyzed from the neck down. And that was only if he was lucky enough to wake up from the coma the docs had to put him under.” Carl can’t help but be fascinated by this story, by this whole new side of Negan, without an ounce of sadistic delight for once, eyes still staring ahead, his face basked in the orange light of the evening. “He died the night before I left the hospital. I could hear his mother crying herself to death down the hall. It was messed up, for them, for me, for everyone involved. I mean, this wasn’t like how things are now. Back then, you were supposed to die at seventy of prostate cancer, or at fifty in a car accident, not playing fucking college football at twenty. After that, I couldn’t play because of the metal plate they put in me. Still have it,” he says, rubbing absentmindedly at the lapel of his leather jacket, right underneath his red scarf. “I lost my scholarship. So I went back to Virginia, got a degree from community college and went to teach P.E. in high school.”

Don't mind me going back on my word and quoting you this whole part. It's always a gamble when you're writing a fic for a on-going series because you never know if the headcanons you're adding will be disproved later. For example, when I was writing part 1, the 'Here's Negan' episode hadn't come out yet (it aired less than a month after I posted chapter 4 and finished the fic) so I had no way of knowing whether the past I gave Negan would have to be retconned later on. I'm glad to say that it holds up so far, Negan's reluctance to killing walkers in the flashback episode (which he says is because he's afraid to grow used to it) could very well stem from the traumatic event I gave Negan in the Savior!Carl AU. However, something that I was a bit disappointed about when Dead City season 1 aired last year, was Negan sharing a memory of his dad being a salesman and promising to take him on a trip to NYC as a child. This is in complete contradiction with the past I made up for Negan in the Savior!AU, where Negan's own relationship with his father is contentious to say the least. I haven't shared anything about that yet, but it will appear if I ever post a Negan's pov fic of the Savior!AU.

This post is running very long already so I'll wrap it up with one song: You're My Sunshine. Obviously this song is a very powerful moment in the Cegan canon so it felt very right to use it for the end of part 4 because it is both an echo to the Sing Me a Song episode and a reminder of Carl and Lori's relationship while, at the same time, the lyrics are very much reminiscent of Carl and Shane's relationship:

I'll always love you and make you happy, If you will only say the same. But if you leave me and love another, You'll regret it all some day. You told me once, dear, you really loved me And no one else could come between. But now you've left me and love another. You have shattered all of my dreams.

I wasn't sure at first I wanted to integrate a song in part 1 because song fic are a sort of commonplace in fandoms and I didn't think it would fit the vibe of my fic. However, when I paid close attention to the lyrics, I realized how apt they were for this moment of the story, for Carl and Shane's relationship to be severed for good, after Shane has chosen to escape with Sherry and baby Lori and left Carl behind. I also really loved the idea of such a romantic song being superimposed on what is arguably one of the most dramatic and disturbing moment in the whole of part 1.

Several people have pointed out in the comments that Shane has all but served Carl on a silver platter for Negan. The manipulation, the secrecy, the violence, all of those elements that Shane used to control Carl, those are the same elements that Negan uses in his relationship with Carl, making Carl go from the arms of one abuser to another. The difference being, of course, that Carl and Negan have a romance a true bond aside from Negan's mindfuck, while any real relationship Carl and Shane might have had died long ago.

Conclusion; tldr: This final chapter of part 1 is a gradual build-up of all the tensions that have been boiling so far. The more Carl separates from Shane, the closer he becomes to Negan, until the eventual killing of Shane by Carl became inevitable. The Savior!Carl AU is a dark romance but it is a romance, and to me what makes this story is great is how the dark and angsty aspects of Cegan are conterbalanced by true moments of bonding and kindness between the two characters. Some people in the comments have very rightfully called part 1 a corruption story or a 'start-of-darkness' plot. That is indeed what is happening, with Carl gradually falling more and more into the possessive clutches of Negan. Those clutches, however, also stem from a true care and affection from Negan to want to provide for Carl and to adopt him as his own.

PS: in chapter 4, Carl remembers Rick's favorite book being In Cold Blood by Truman Capote while Lori's favorite book was The Scarlet Letter by Nathanial Hawthorne. Those are little Easter Eggs I thought people who have read those books might appreciate when compared to Rick and Lori's actual storylines in canon (senseless violence in a small town being investigated and the lack of motive haunting the narrative versus a sexual affair that dooms its female protagonist and destroys her reputation and has lasting consequences in her community).

You can find the commentary for part 2 chapter 1 here.

[yellowocaballero]

Ashen Wolf Byleth & Teen Dad Yuri

The blade fell, and the beautiful ghost stepped away. “We don’t like surface people here. If you two are plotting anything, I’ll kill you.”

She said it so simply and easily, as if Dimitri’s death would be the work of nature or the Goddess and not her own two hands. Dimitri turned around, heart jumping into the throat, and met the eyes of his beautiful ghost for the first time.

The girl was solid, real, and around his age. She was wearing a strange, bastardized version of the Academy uniform, silver and embroidered with a strange symbol over the heart. Her hair gleamed navy blue and her lace stockings barely hid her defined thigh muscles. Her grip on her sword was excellent and her stance spoke of barely restrained power. The woman could kill him in a flash, and the stroke that cut his throat would shine like moonlight.

Like Dimitri loved a long fall and short impact, like he loved the light at the end of the tunnel, like he loved betting all in on the longest chances, Dimitri fell in love instantly.

I need to update Weekenders but there's about twenty reasons why I haven't done it yet. But while I've been posting it I've been writing a shitton of other stuff, only some of which is decent, so I thought I'd post the beginnings of this story while I finish up the New Game+ Claude POV fic. This is most of what exists so far, and I probably won't finish it. Writing Dimitri's POV actively made me feel more insane as a person.

TW for references and flashbacks to Yuri's canon past. Around 15k of an absolutely demented Dimitri, a deeply smarmy Claude, a disturbingly feral Byleth, and a Yuri who is just doing his best under the cut.

i.

Dimitri was rapidly growing obsessed with the beautiful ghost. 

He tried to confess to his colleagues in the Blue Lions, but they just gave him sympathetic eyes and confiscated his training sword. A typical lack of faith in their leader, but Dimitri had to accept that it was well deserved. He was perfectly aware that Felix, Sylvain, Dedue, and Ingrid didn’t believe in ghosts, much less beautiful ones. Mercedes, Ashe, and Annette believed whole-heartedly in ghosts, but they thought he was being weird about it. So Dimitri was silenced, ostensibly for his own good. It was for his own good - future kings couldn’t exactly run around talking about beautiful ghosts - but it still felt like an odd form of betrayal. 

And he still couldn’t get her out of his mind. If only he had proof, Sylvain would make fun of him just a little bit less. All he had to do was be patient and wait for his time to come. Sylvain would see. They’d all see. 

The time came sooner than expected, with unexpected company. Dimitri and Claude were walking back from an important (Edelgard’s words) and mind-numbingly boring (Claude’s words) administrative meeting when he saw her again. They were walking a side path along the very edge of the monastery, using it as a shortcut between the main building and their own dormitory, and in the thick night their solitude was complete. Complete save for a shadow in the distance, darting from the forest and across the path like a minnow in a stream. 

Dimitri dropped his books in shock. Claude stopped short, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“What’s -”

“It’s her!” Dimitri cried. “That’s her! Hey - miss, please wait!”

The books and company were no longer important. Dimitri set off after her at a run, only barely aware that Claude was hot on his tail. As always, the ghost disappeared almost instantly - she crossed the path and dove into the tall shrubbery against the stone walls of the monastery, where she disappeared. Dimitri had seen her appear from the ground and disappear into walls before, only barely visible from the corner of his eyes, and every time she slipped like water from his fingers.

This time was no different. Dimitri skidded to a halt at her disappearing point, pushing aside thick branches in a desperate search for terrestrial beauty. There was nobody and nothing - the girl had walked straight into the monastery walls. Foiled again.

“Dammit!” Dimitri yelled. Claude’s eyebrows jumped up. “I was so close that time!” 

“You know curse words? I owe Hilda a hundred gold.” Claude poked his head over Dimitri’s shoulder, watching his desperate search without helping whatsoever. “What was all of that about? Did you see someone?”

“Didn’t you?” But Dimitri already knew the answer, even as he said it - nobody ever saw her but him. “I’ve been seeing this girl since I arrived at Garreg Mach. She appears from thin air and disappears into nothing. I suspect she may be a ghost. I’ve searched high and low for her, but I haven’t been able to find her. And she slips through my fingers again!”

Claude hummed, scratching his chin. “Now that you mention it, maybe I did see a figure…”

Dimitri rocketed upwards, snapping several branches. He whirled on Claude, who took a large step back. “You did? Was she short, wearing silver clothing, unmistakably beautiful?”

Claude held up both hands in a plea for innocence. “...it looked kind of humanoid?” Figures. Dimitri turned back around, scanning the area again. If he could just follow her trail - maybe there would be a scent of death? Of ozone? Of the unknown? “Hey, if it matters that much to you then I’ll help you look. Can’t afford to rule anything out - even ghosts.” 

“You’re a true friend, Your Grace,” Dimitri said seriously. Claude nodded back, equally seriously. “And even if she isn’t a ghost, an unknown person at Garreg Mach is highly suspect. She doesn’t seem to wear a habit, armor, or a uniform. It’s our responsibility as leaders to investigate mysteries like this.” 

“Uh huh.” Claude slipped into the thicket with him, easily fitting into the barren spots where Dimitri already accidentally snapped off all the branches. Dimitri was already seriously knocking on the castle walls, searching for secret passages or weaknesses. “But not to tell a staff member?”

“I decided a while ago that I could handle this on my own,” Dimitri said stiffly. Wasn’t like anybody was willing to help him, anyway. “Some endeavors are personal.”

“I know that feeling.” Claude hummed, and Dimitri heard the distinct screech of metal scraping on metal. “So are you this invested because of the ghost thing or the beautiful thing?”

“With the potential non-invited guest at Garreg Mach thing, Your Grace.” 

A terrible grinding sound split the night, and Dimitri winced. He was a bit sensitive to unexpected loud noises. Felix knew, and liked to sneak up on him and yell in his ear. “I’m a future duke and you’re a future king, Your Highness, I think you’re meant to speak less formally to me.” 

“We’re both future leaders of our respective countries,” Dimitri said seriously. “Isn’t that more important than a discrepancy in titles? I’d like to show respect to you as it befits your station, not your title.” 

More awful screeching filled the air, accompanied by a final grinding scream and a muffled thump. “Is that why you’re the only person who calls Petra ‘Your Highness’? I think that’s why you’re the only guy in this school she approves of.” 

“Really?” Dimitri asked, pleased. Politeness always paid off! “I simply think it’s disrespectful to treat her as anything less than royalty simply because she is here as a political hostage - an outdated practice that I believe - I’m sorry, what’s that sound?”

“Oh, just opening a secret passage.” 

“I see. I just think it’s an outdated practice that ought to be illegalized, and just between you and me I actually highly disapprove of - I’m sorry, a what?”

Dimitri turned around from his fruitless inspection of the wall for the first time and saw Claude squatting nearby. He had cut away the brambles surrounding the area with the tip of an arrow he pulled from somewhere, and a large manhole was resting on the grass next to him. He was currently sticking his head down a dark hole of indeterminable depth. Dimitri hadn’t even noticed a manhole! 

Well. If the beautiful woman was a beautiful ghost, then she had undoubtedly gone through the wall. But if the beautiful woman was an everyday extremely attractive girl, then the manhole might be how she had escaped so quickly. 

Finally, a lead! A path towards her! Dimitri did not know why he was a little disappointed. Was he secretly hoping she’d be a ghost? That would be a little impractical. Maybe he was just upset Claude had found it?

Claude popped his head back up, upside-down braid swinging back against his cheek. “Now isn’t this interesting?” For the first time, Claude seemed invested. “The sewer system doesn’t run underneath this path. So what’s an access point to the sewers doing right here?”

“...why do you know the sewer layout of Garreg Mach?”

“I’m a fan of a good mystery,” Claude said, completely ignoring the question. Perhaps. “How do you feel about a little exploration on this fine moonlit night?” 

Oh no. Dimtiri abruptly felt a little anxious. “Your Grace, I don’t believe students are allowed in the Garreg Mach sewer systems.”

“What if it’s not the Garreg Mach sewer system?”

“That may be less allowed.” A little awkwardly, Dimitri added, “And I really wouldn’t want to accidentally break a rule and get in trouble.”

Claude gave him a look of blatant disgust. Dimitri hung his head in shame.

Finally, Claude took pity on him. He sighed and clapped Dimitri’s shoulder - once in camaraderie, twice in sympathy. “Your Highness. Are you really going to let some little rules get in the way of you and your soulmate?”

Dimitri perked up. Putting it like that…and he really didn’t want to look uncool in front of Claude, who was probably the coolest person at the school… “I suppose Lady Rhea would understand if it’s for the sake of love…”

“Attaboy.” Claude shoved roughly at Dimitri’s shoulder, pushing him into the hole. “Now let’s dive into the sewers. Lords first!”

Thankfully, Dimitri wasn’t obligated to fall down a hole face first. There was a wooden ladder descending downwards, warped and fragile from the damp air, and although Dimitri descended into the dark with no hesitation he had to force himself to move slowly and grip the fragile rungs with utmost care. 

The darkness was absolute, and Dimitri and Claude navigated by feel. They climbed for what felt like ages, and Dimitri’s absolute concentration made the period of time span even longer. Claude prattled on above his head with some random thoughts and observations, but Dimitri was focusing too hard on the ladder to register what he was saying. 

A boot knocked him on the head. Dimitri’s hands spasmed, crushing the rung into splinters, and his grip was completely lost. Dimitri bent backwards a terrifying foot before he righted himself and regained his balance, grabbing the side of the ladder and swinging himself heavily downwards. Of course, that broke the side of the ladder, and suddenly Claude was yelling a great deal of expletives as one side of his ladder began to slide downwards. 

“Let’s readjust our approach,” Dimitri said mildly. He changed his grip to grab the two sides of the ladder, his metal gauntlets digging into the wood. “Get ready to slide, Your Grace.” 

“Are you nuts -”

Dimitri kicked off, taking his feet off the rungs and loosening his grip on the sides. His slide downwards was alarmingly fast, and he could feel the musty air rise up to meet him. Claude was still yelling, his voice echoing up the empty tunnel, and a familiar wave of adrenaline rose to wash Dimitri’s mind clean.

He couldn’t help but grin. The wind tousling his hair, the swooping sensation in his stomach, the possibility of death and the high probability of injury - a recipe for excitement. Dimitri’s favorite sort of excitement - the sort that cleared out all of the nasty little thoughts that clouded his mind day to day, that made him forget all of his problems and memories and wounds and that focused him onto the present moment. It was a thrill that conquered all ills, and it was more or less the only time that Dimitri was ever happy. 

His professor didn’t like that about him. Before Garreg Mach, Felix was the only person who was aware of Dimitri’s little addiction, but the Blue Lions professor had sniffed Dimitri out fast and never stopped giving him a hard time about it. Dimitri honestly didn’t think it was the professor’s business, but he knew they did not agree regarding that fact. It didn’t matter - Dimitri wasn’t about to change.

A light sprung from the darkness, and Dimitri immediately kicked his heels against the ladder and slowed his descent. The light brightened as Dimitri fell, and he was able to make out a hard-packed dirt floor just in time to bend his knees and soften his landing. The impact still rattled his legs down to the bone, but he hadn’t sprained anything.

Dimitri immediately jumped backwards, watching Claude come to the same conclusion and slow his descent. Unlike Dimitri, he didn’t stick the landing - he fell in an ungainly heap on the floor, gasping for breath and groaning. His hair was wildly mussed, and he looked a little green. His cape had ripped off his shoulders, and was currently hanging like a defeated flag several feet above their heads.

“What is wrong with you.”

Goddess, they’d be here all day. “You’re the one who kicked my head.” Dimitri wiped the splinters off his gauntleted hand, extending it down to Claude. Claude squinted at him in increasingly ill-hidden hatred. “Come on, have a little adventurous spirit. I thought you were here to explore the unknown?”

Claude pushed himself upwards, and Dimitri silently curled his hand and returned it to his side. Figured that Claude wouldn’t want to touch him. An expected reaction, honestly. “Sure I am. Now our way out of here is unknown too. Guess we have no choice but to press onwards.” 

“I’ll lead the way,” Dimitri said - perhaps betraying the fact that he had no intention of going backwards. “I believe we’re already out of the woods. Look yonder - see the exit?”

There was, indeed, an exit. They had landed in a narrow rectangular room, and there was clearly a door at the far corner where the right wall intersected the back wall. Light shone from within, and Dimitri eagerly led them forwards towards the light. 

He could even hear sounds, signs of life - the distant coursing of a river, and a familiar quiet symphony of sounds. They were the sounds of life - a soundscape of an ordinary day at the marketplace at the base of Garreg Mach, marked by shuffling feet and quiet voices. 

“Is that people?” Dimitri whispered, excited. “What are people doing this far underground?”

“Is that people?” Claude whispered, incredulous. “Does Rhea know about this?”

“Perhaps they’re ghosts!”

But Claude just shook his head, and for the first time he seemed a little grim. He sped up, walking briskly until he overtook Dimitri. Dimitri fell back, letting him take the lead, and listened curiously as Claude muttered under his breath. Dimitri couldn’t make out the words at all - too quiet, perhaps.

“Ghosts!” Claude hissed. “Perhaps they’re ghosts, that’s fun, not dangerous -”

“Maybe they’re an army of ghosts,” Dimitri volunteered. Claude hissed something that sounded suspiciously similar to the Almyran term for the Fodlan ethnic group. He probably mishead. “Honestly, Claude, what happened to your thirst for adventure -”

“I thought I would get to see Dimitri Blaiddyd stomp through some sewers for an hour! I didn’t expect to stumble into real life people!” Claude stopped at the entryway, peering forward into the cavernous expanse beyond them. Dimitri stopped too. Quite involuntarily. “Holy - that’s a settlement! What is a settlement doing underneath - that’s a village! There’s no way Rhea doesn’t know about that. What else is that woman hiding?”

Dimitri coughed, frozen perfectly still. Cold steel kissed his neck. “Ah. Er. Some help?” 

Claude ignored him, steadily working himself up. Dimitri had never seen Claude actually unbalanced before. It was unsettling. “Just when I thought I had five percent of that woman figured out, she pulls the rug on me again. I’ll never get anything good out of her this way. Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I might have to fall back on the B&E plan -”

“Some help, Claude!”

Instantly, Claude said, “What B&E plan?”

“Don’t move,” the beautiful ghost said. 

Claude turned around. 

Dimitri had to assume it was the beautiful ghost. The sword was raised against his neck upwards, showing that the wielder had to significantly lift her arm to hold it. The voice was unmistakably a woman’s, light and delicate and young. It wasn’t ethereal - rather, it was solid, as solid as the steel against his skin - but there was still something otherworldly about it. 

Claude stared at Dimitri, wide-eyed. His eyes traveled downwards - yes, the ghost had to be short - and he froze just as solid as Dimitri for a flat second before he relaxed. Over Claude’s shoulder, Dimitri could see the settlement stretching out before him - at the lean-tos and tents and shacks, at the people in rags milling about who were already beginning to stop and stare. The underground people were dirty, and the underground village was filthier. Dimitri immediately saw some elderly hugging the walls, and more foreigners.

Undoubtedly, Claude had seen what Dimitri saw. Claude was currently ahead of him - he was staring at the beautiful ghost with mouth agape, eyes wide. A hot flash of jealousy burst in Dimitri’s chest. Claude got to see the ghost’s face before he did! How incredibly unfair! 

“Hello, there. Sorry for…uh, dropping in.” Claude slowly raised his hands, showing himself unarmed. Dimitri wondered where he had stashed his extra arrows. “We…come in peace?”

The sword at his neck flashed. It was well-kept, but clearly old and cheap. “Who are you with.” 

“We’re not with anybody!” Claude said hurriedly. Bizarrely, he had immediately adopted an accent - a thick, regional Almyran accent, coarse and rough. “Please, ma’am, stay your sword. Don’t you have any idea who you’re holding hostage? He’s a very important person. If he goes missing your entire house will be endangered. It’s safest for everybody if you just let him go.”

The blade stilled. “...is he rich?”

“Oh, very! I know people who would pay thousands for his safe return!” 

“What did I expect,” Dimitri muttered. 

“And who are you?” the beautiful ghost asked. “Are you rich too?”

“I am but this man’s humble aide!” Claude said instantly. He bowed flamboyantly, with a distinctive Almyran flair. “A loyal and devoted servant am I, to His Royal Highness! My ten brothers and sisters wouldn’t have two coppers to scavenge together to pay a ransom, honest! Tell you what, tell you what - let me help!” Claude straightened, pulling out his most roguish and charismatic smile. “Let’s be friends, Fodlan beauty. Give me your demands, and I’ll deliver them straight upwards all the way to the top. I’ll be back with thousands! You can give the pale boy back later. If you want. How about it?”

The sword wavered. The ghost spoke again, her voice laced with doubt. “You’re both wearing the Academy uniform. Brother did say that the prince was attending school this year.”

“Beautiful and good intel sources! Surely you’ve heard of me, the Almyran vassal that follows around the prince and attends school with him?”

Dubiously, the ghost said, “Brother says that the vassal’s Duscuran…”

“I am disappointed that your brother cannot tell the difference between the Duscur and Almyran people!”

“It’s not like that…”

Claude promptly said something in - Almyran? When did Claude learn Almyran? The ghost said something back in Almyran, undoubtedly dubious. Claude pointed at Dimitri’s shoulder, showcasing Dimitri’s fine cape, and then at his own - and the distinct lack of yellow cape, which was probably still pinned to the ladder. The beautiful ghost murmured in assent - obviously Claude was a poor vassal, not a rich king, see his complete lack of cape. 

The beautiful ghost said something, and Claude’s eyes sharpened. He grinned and bowed even lower - a vassal to a princess. 

In the Fodlan language, Claude said, “Then His Highness and his loyal vassal would be honored to hold an audience with the lady’s esteemed brother.” 

“You talk stupid.” 

“You would really get along with my best friend, my lady.” 

“I’m not your anything.” The blade fell, and the beautiful ghost stepped away. “We don’t like surface people here. If you two are plotting anything, I’ll kill you.”

She said it so simply and easily, as if Dimitri’s death would be the work of nature or the Goddess and not her own two hands. Dimitri turned around, heart jumping into the throat, and met the eyes of his beautiful ghost for the first time.

The girl was solid, real, and around his age. She was wearing a strange, bastardized version of the Academy uniform, silver and embroidered with a strange symbol over the heart. Her hair gleamed navy blue and her lace stockings barely hid her defined thigh muscles. Her grip on her sword was excellent and her stance spoke of barely restrained power. The woman could kill him in a flash, and the stroke that cut his throat would shine like moonlight.

Like Dimitri loved a long fall and short impact, like he loved the light at the end of the tunnel, like he loved betting all in on the longest chances, Dimitri fell in love instantly. 

“Night night,” the love of Dimitri’s life said, before hitting him on the back of his head with the pommel of her sword, drawing black curtains over Dimitri’s eyes. 

__________

Dimitri sat in an office. A rather inauspicious turn in this kidnapping saga. 

He was sitting down because his head still hurt. He wished he was standing and showing his future brother-in-law the respect he deserved, but his future brother-in-law insisted that he tend to his probable concussion and sit. Dimitri wanted to protest - the man had already personally healed him, and his head didn’t hurt any more than usual - but the man seemed stressed enough, so Dimitri sat obediently in front of his desk. In an office. In an underground slum funded by the church. Which existed. Was that what taxpayer money was going towards?

Yuri explained the entire situation to him and Claude as he healed the bump and gash on Dimitri’s skull. For a given value of ‘entire’ - so far, Dimitri mostly just understood that the church organized a homeless encampment underground that accepted any members unconditionally and functioned roughly like its own little nation. The main encampment of Abyss was Garreg Mach itself - a basement floor of the monastery that had sunken into the ground after some unfortunate geographical events around seven hundred years ago. Dimitri wanted to ask if it was a possible problem that Garreg Mach was located in a sinkhole, but Yuri didn’t leave much time for questions.

The name of the slum was Abyss, and its inhabitants had little contact with the outside world. There were children in Abyss who had never stood in the sun, and infirm who hadn’t felt the sun’s warmth since they were well. Apparently the few inhabitants who regularly left Abyss used one of a series of secret passages in Garreg Mach, with entrances and exits that spanned the width of the monastery. These secret passages were very well-hidden, and an Abyssan well-versed in their usage could disappear and reappear throughout the monastery like…a ghost. 

They didn’t have visitors very often. Not many people knew about Abyss, and strangely enough the people in the loop didn’t care to visit a damp, filthy underground slum. They had even fewer Academy students fall down manholes and stumble into this inverted land of wonder. Hence why the sight of Dimitri and Claude caused certain Abyssans to panic. With their swords. 

These Abyssans were named Byleth, which was a lovely name. Potentially alliterative, too. 

“Your Highness.” Yuri was gritting his teeth together. “I am…so sorry.” 

“No harm done,” Dimitri said instantly. He wanted to express to Yuri that it was actually a great honor to be harmed by his sister, but he didn’t know how to say that in a normal way. “We were the intruders, after all. Byleth was just defending her home.” He turned to Byleth, who was standing stiffly behind her brother in a perfect match to Claude’s stiff stance behind Dimitri. Dimitri had barely taken his eyes off her, and yet she had failed to make a single facial expression. Fascinating. “Your swordplay was incredible, by the way. The way you held that sword to my throat was impeccable. I assume you’ve been professionally trained.”

“Here and there.” Byleth looked pleased, making Dimitri feel like a star. She pointed awkwardly at the silver sword at Dimitri’s hip. It was the same old sword Dimitri always had - some antique of the royal family, passed down from generation to generation. “I like your sword.”

Instantly, Dimitri said, “Thank you! Do you want it?”’

Byleth hummed. Yuri’s eyes widened a fraction, and Claude stifled a groan. “My sword is pretty old…”

“Here, take it.” Dimtiri immediately undid his belt and handed the sword over to her, belt and sheath and all. She held it up and admired it, testing its weight. Yuri’s jaw clenched. “Consider it my apology for following you uninvited into your home.”

Byleth nodded, twirling the sword easily in her hands. It was tremendously attractive. “Apology accepted. We’re even.” Her mouth twitched infinitesimally into something that may be loosely deemed a smile. Yuri’s eyes widened severely. “Thank you.”

Dimitri looked away, coughing. His face felt like it was going to melt off. “You’re welcome. It - ah, it suits you.”

“Do you think so?” Byleth asked, pleased. Perhaps. It was very hard to tell. Her voice was in a very strict monotone, but their deep spiritual connection meant that Dimitri could vibe these things out. “It does match my outfit.”

Dimitri would never be able to think of silver again without thinking of her. “I’m hono -”

“Your Highness.” Yuri’s voice hadn’t changed; nor had his words. His expression didn’t seem any different and his body language hadn’t shifted. But something about him was far now far less welcoming - something was different, all the same. “We’re very grateful for your gift, and for the forgiveness you’ve extended towards us regarding what happened. But it would be highly irresponsible of me to keep you here any longer. Abyss isn’t safe for somebody like you and your…vassal.”

“Khalid, sir.” Claude winked loudly at Dimitri, making absolutely certain that Dimitri understood that Claude was giving a fake foreign name. Yes, Dimitri picked up on that. “Really, wonderful place you have here. Very chic. Couldn’t possibly be that unsafe - if we had a good tour guide.”

Frostily, Yuri said, “I’ll have some scouts escort you back topside immediately. I’m certain Lady Rhea is looking for you.”

“It took her three days to notice that I tossed Lindhardt into a well, so I’m certain we have at least that long.” Claude leaned forward eagerly. “Who founded this place? Whose idea was it? Why is it underground?”

“Somebody who is no longer with us,” Yuri said, curt and even. “I’m the leader of Abyss now. And as the leader, it’s my responsibility to get future leaders of Fodlan back to their cozy beds.”

Claude flapped an easy hand. “Sure, let’s get the future leader of Fodlan back to bed. But this humble vassal’s awfully interested in this operation you’re running. Don’t suppose you could allow me to run around a bit? Check some things out? See your tax records?”

“I think even vassals have someplace to be, Khalid.”

“Why are you saying his name like that?” Byleth asked Yuri. She paused a beat. “Never mind. I don’t care.”

“There’s a great deal of places this vassal should be,” Claude said cheerfully, “but I think there’s only one place where I have to be.” He easily slid into the unoccupied chair next to Dimitri, leaning forward and folding his hands on Yuri’s desk. He had to nudge apart several scrolls of parchment and pieces of paper to do it - the man’s desk was stacked with forms, work, and quills. “Let’s put our cards on the table, huh? There’s a lot the church doesn’t tell us peons, Yuri. I’m willing to bet you know a lot of it. So in exchange for you telling me what you know, I don’t tell Lady Rhea what I know about a certain somebody trying to lop off the head of the future king of Faerghus. Sound good to you?”

Yuri crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, one thin purple eyebrow arching. “You have a lot to learn about the art of the deal, kid. What will Rhea say when she learns that Prince Dimitri and Duke Claude were out past curfew skulking around slums?”

“Duke Claude’s happily asleep in his warm bed, and every member of his House is sufficiently paid to corroborate that story.” Claude smiled winningly. “Khalid is a humble vassal interested in touring your fine slum. Khalid might also have some other gossip that you might be interested in.” 

“Like what, kid?”

Claude’s grin widened. “I might tell you tomorrow morning. After my visit.”

Yuri was silent. His eyes flickered to Dimtiri, then to Claude. He glanced at his sister. “By, wait outside?” 

Byleth nodded and exited the room. Dimtiri yearned for her achingly. But Yuri just straightened, face as blank and unreadable as his sister’s, and said something to Claude in Almyran.

For the first time, Claude was struck off balance. He looked at Dimitri, eyes wide, then back at Yuri. He said something empathetically, shaking his head, but Yuri just responded curtly.

In the Fodlan language, Claude said, “On the honor of my father and mother, no. I’m not trying to -”

“Really?” Yuri said. “You’re a novice at this con artist thing, kid. You’re too rich to do it well. Word of advice - don’t smile like you’re hiding something, smile like you’re keeping a secret.”

Claude pulled back a little, and Dimitri saw that he was almost pouting. “You don’t know me.”

“I know things about you that you don’t know about yourself.” Yuri looked at Dimitri, expression gentle and soft and bland. Like sheep’s wool, or dandelion fluff on the breeze. “Do you want to hang around Abyss a little longer too, Your Highness?”

Images of Byleth wielding his silver sword, flicking the blade in a deadly dance, spun through Dimitri’s mind. If he left Abyss now and never saw her again he would lose what little scrap of will to live he had left. Dimitri couldn’t keep losing good things. He was running out.

“Yes!” Dimitri said - a bit too quickly, a bit too empathetically. He coughed, forcing himself to settle down. “I mean - yes. As a future ruler, I should see how the other half lives. It’s important for a ruler to understand the needs of all of his people.”

It was perfectly true. It wasn’t what he was thinking, but it was perfectly true. Dimitri had the faint notion that perhaps he and Claude were missing the point of something important, something much bigger than them - than Claude’s secrets or Dimitri’s love story - but the allure of secrets and love was fairly overpowering at the moment. 

Easily, as easily as he said everything else, Yuri said, “My sister’s not on the market to entertain you. I can steer plenty of other lovely ladies or gentlemen your way, but she’s a little busy with her own work.” Yuri tilted his head, looking at Dimitri through half-lidded eyes. Dimitri flushed a little. “If you insist, I’d be happy to spare some time for you. But I’m afraid my sister is just too busy.” 

Claude stood up, chair skidding against the hard stone. “I just put my family’s name on this! As -” Claude said something quickly in Almyran, which completely flew over Dimitri’s head. “ - I am vouching for Prince Dimitri. I wouldn’t even say that for me, but I can sure as hell say it for him. You can trust us.” 

Yuri’s face was unchanged. “I’ve heard that one before.” 

And although Dimitri didn’t understand half the conversation - although he knew that there was subtext he wasn’t getting, that there were things about the world he just couldn’t see - he understood the right thing to do well enough for now. Standing in the midst of Abyss, it was clear.

Dimitri stood up, bowing low at Yuri. “I apologize for our intrusion. I see that my classmate and I have overstayed our welcome. I have no desire to add to the heavy burdens you and your village already bear. Please, if you can help escort us back to the surface, we’d be very grateful.”

When Dimtiri straightened, he saw a peculiar look on Yuri’s face. It was a little thoughtful, and a lot of another foreign emotion. “What will you do now that you know we’re here?”

“Ask Rhea how we can help,” Dimitri said immediately. Left implied: and confess to our wrongdoings, like good children. “Or you, if you’re amenable. Abyss is not located within my lands, but I am aware that many places like Abyss reside in the darkness of Faerghus. If I can do anything for you now - learn what you can teach me - then I consider it education on how to provide for my subjects in the future.”

“He’s sincere,” Claude said firmly. He stood up too, thumping his heart with a closed fist. “I haven’t been sincere since the poisoned fig incident, but I can swear too. We just want to help. So let us help - it can’t be every day you have two future leaders of Fodlan asking you what we can do for you.”

Yuri stared at them for a long few seconds, expression glazed smooth and unreadable, before he finally sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “And I suppose you want my sister as a tour guide.”

“You just said she’s busy,” Dimitri asked, tilting his head in confusion. “I assumed she wouldn’t be available to show us around.” 

Yuri narrowed his eyes - damn, the man was impeccable. Dimitri had attempted one subtle fib and he was caught out immediately. But the lie served its purpose, and something subtle in Yuri’s shoulders untensed. Dimitri hadn’t realized that they were tense at all.

Yuri opened his mouth and said -

“Boss! Did we really kidnap the prince of Faerghus?”

The door thumped open with such immense force that it smacked against the far wall. A truly giant man strode inside, followed closely on his heels by a blonde woman wearing an unsettling smile and a short dark-skinned woman picking at a cuticle. On the tail end of the party was Byleth. She nodded at Dimitri, who nodded back in a daze.

“I told them you were busy,” Byleth said serenely. 

“Yeah, busy with His Royal Highness!” The large man stopped in front of Dimitri and carefully scrutinized him from head to toe. Dimitri allowed himself to be scrutinized. “Damn! What are they feeding you Academy kids these days? You’re solid muscle. Not as much as me, but not bad either!”

Dimitri fought the urge to sweat. The women flanked the big guy, blinking at him curiously. “I train frequently.”

“Really? Guess Bye-Bye’s found another freak.” The dark-skinned woman yawned, nodding at Byleth as she stood at her brother’s side. “You should hang out. Hit each other with swords or whatever.” 

“Greetings to His Royal Highness and friend!” the blonde woman yelled, almost at the top of her voice. She put her hands on her hips, lifting her chin in the air. “Welcome to the home of Constance von Nuvelle! Our decor may be lacking, but our hospitality is second to none!”

“Really?” the other woman drawled. “I think the rats add some pizazz.”

“Silly Hapi! The rats are disgusting!”

“Bye-Bye eats garbage too, but we don’t give her a hard time about it.”

“Hospitality, huh?” Yuri smiled, and for the first time it seemed a little real. “Balthus, obviously you don’t have anything more important going on. Can you host our two noble young visitors? Who we didn’t kidnap?”

“We were a little kidnapped,” Claude said. 

Balthus grinned, propping a hand on a hip. “I dunno, are you paying me?” 

Quickly, Dimitri added, “We’ll compensate you for your efforts, of course.”

“Wait,” the dark-skinned woman asked the room, “are we holding you hostage? Because it sounds like we’re holding you hostage.”

“Sold, kid!” Balthus thumped a friendly hand on Dimtiri’s back. He didn’t stumble, which seemed to shock Balthus before he withdrew his hand and quickly covered up the motion. “You look like a good hand with a weapon. Not you, Almyran guy, you look like a wimp.” Claude narrowed his eyes, but Balthus just looked backwards at Byleth. “You should spar with our new friend, Byleth. I’ll finally get to see you knock a different musclehead on the ground!”

Constance squealed, clapping her hands. “Byleth and the new children can play together! Oh, how heartwarming! Socialization is a rare opportunity for Bylie indeed!” She looked at Yuri and stage whispered, “We cannot afford to lose this chance, Yuri!”

“Byleth doesn’t know a lot of kids her own age,” the dark-skinned woman told Dimitri and Claude. “She’s…a little awkward.”

Byleth blinked at them.

“Wow,” Claude muttered, “you don’t say.”

“I forgive you for holding a sword to my neck,” Dimitri said earnestly. “You were doing the right thing.”

“Seriously, are we holding you hostage or not?”

 Yuri’s eye twitched. But his posture had fully loosened, and the presence of the strangers seemed to make him breathe a little easier. “We aren’t. And Byleth isn't a puppy we need to socialize, Hapi. You know how noble boys are.”

“Noble boy and his loyal vassal,” Claude added quickly, sticking stubbornly to the bit. Dimitri had no idea why, but Claude rarely vocalized his reasons for doing anything. “What do you think, Byleth? Want to hang out with us, or want to stay with your brother?”

Byleth stared at both of them unblinkingly. Finally, after a long few seconds of thought, Byleth said, “I want to train with Dimitri.” 

Hapi shot a canny look at Yuri. “Balthus’ll supervise. Connie and I too, if you want.” 

For a long second Dimitri thought Yuri was going to say no anyway. Dimitri would have accepted it. It would have robbed Dimitri of the only good thing left in his life, but he would have accepted it. Good things came and left all of the time, and part of life was learning how to deal with that. Dimitri liked to fancy himself an expert in it. He could lose one more thing - one flash of hope. 

But Yuri only sighed. “Alright. Supervised. Now get out of my office, all of you, I’m far too busy to juggle nobility on top of everything else.” Claude perked up. “All of you. You want to talk about Rhea - we’ll do it after dinner.” 

“Understood!” Claude bowed at Yuri again, and Dimitri hastily copied him. “You won’t regret opening your doors to us, sir!”

“Uh-huh.” Left unsaid - he definitely already was. “Out of my office, then. I’ve been away for too long and I have a lot of work to catch up on.”

Byleth tilted her head, a frown tugging at her lips. “You should leave less often. Your work piles up. It stresses you out.” 

Yuri gave her a big smile, as if he was keeping a secret. “But if I don’t leave, I’ll never experience the joy of seeing you again.” 

“You’re corny, Yuri.” 

“Love turns even the best of us into cornballs.” Yuri and Byleth shared a look, empty and opaque, but in that blankness Dimitri saw something far deeper than he had ever experienced. “Just look at Constance. Every time she looks at herself in the mirror she gets sillier.” 

“Excuse me, my sweet Yuri -”

“You’re excused, my darling Constance.”

“Must we fight,” Hapi panned, monotone and disinterested. “We’re a family. Look. You’ll make the baby cry.”

Byleth blinked at Hapi. “But I can’t cry.” 

“Look. You’ll give the baby psychological issues.” 

Balthus laughed again, cracking his knuckles with a pop that echoed throughout the cramped office. “This’ll be fun! It’s been a while since we’ve had a good adventure, eh Yuri?”

“Yes,” Yuri said, “that’s altogether what I’m afraid of.”

Truthfully, at that point Dimitri was no longer listening. He was just looking at Byleth, the girl who could not cry. And Byleth looked back at him, the boy whose heart was always crying. They saw each other, the heart-burdened and the heartless, and something in one reached out to balance the other.

And although the weight of the world above them crushed Dimitri’s shoulders, although they stood within damp and filthy slums tucked into the bowels of the planet, for those precious few seconds Dimitri and Byleth existed in the world with no obligation to anybody but each other.

_____________

ii. 

Yuri was sitting in this bathroom fruitlessly scrubbing blood out of his one good outfit when he received word that Lady Rhea was requesting an audience. Because it was Rhea, he also received word that she was already waiting for him in the destroyed classroom. 

Damn it! He had just returned! And he didn’t have anything to wear!

In the end, he was forced to keep Lady Rhea waiting another fifteen minutes because he had to dig out an older, rattier outfit and re-do his makeup. Approach: ‘I’m in my twenties, my stare is cold and piercing, and damn it I belong in this conference room’. Then he had to waste another five minutes because his hair was a wreck and his hands still smelled like blood. By the time he finally speed-walked down the halls and skidded to a stop in front of the classroom doors Yuri was twenty minutes late and already fighting the urge to freak.

As always, he halted at the doors. He took a deep breath in, then out. His outfit was dingy, which made him feel like crap, but the power makeup helped pick up the slack. He inhaled, exhaled, shook out his limbs, and entered the classroom. 

Rhea was standing in front of a blackboard, her back turned to the door. She was dressed in an old brown cloak, but with the hood down and her beautiful green hair left to flow over her shoulders the figure was unmistakable as Rhea. She was writing in beautiful and flowing script on the blackboard with a piece of stubby chalk, and speaking in a low voice to the child standing next to her. The child was staring up at her, eyes wide, chewing on a knuckle. Th child’s dark blue hair was pulled into a stubby ponytail, and she was wearing only a tattered black dress and swimming in a brown jacket sized for a large adult man. 

“ - your name. See, this is the B…like ‘bye’. Can you say ‘bye’?” The child blinked owlishly up at Rhea. “That’s alright. You’ll get it. You’re doing a great job already.” 

Yuri coughed, and Rhea quickly turned around. With a strange start Yuri noticed that she was dressed down even more than usual, her face plain and wearing only a simple white dress underneath the cloak. Without her own makeup, she seemed tired. She smiled wanly at Yuri, who bowed back. The child turned around too, gnawing fastidiously at her knuckle. 

“Yuri. I’m sorry to call upon you again so quickly after your return. Did all go well?”

“The job was done.” Deepen your voice, sound older - sound disaffected, yet sincere. Yuri wondered if he would ever live long enough that he could stop pretending to be older. “The deceased is no longer a threat to the church.”

“He was a threat to the safety of Fodlan,” Rhea said firmly. Yuri wasn’t sure about that one, but he did appreciate Rhea’s conscientious efforts to only toss absolute bastards into his pen. “I’m afraid I must ask something of you yet again, Yuri. This is important. I cannot fully disclose to you why this mission is so important, but please trust me when I say that this is a matter extremely close to my heart.”

Yuri straightened, folding his hands behind his back. He wanted to die a bit. Another important mission? As if managing Abyss, captaining his rogues, and assassinating bastards weren’t enough missions? 

How long would she keep punishing him? 

But Yuri just bowed. It was no effort at all to keep his expression placid. “I can accomplish any mission you give me, my lady.”

“I know. That’s why I’m trusting you with this.” Rhea put both hands on the girl’s shoulder and squeezed. The girl squirmed uncomfortably. You and me both, kid. “Yuri, this is Byleth. Byleth, this is Yuri. Why don’t you say hi?”

Byleth stared at Yuri, gnawing on her finger. Somebody probably ought to slap those knuckles with a ruler. She wasn’t a young child - twelve or thirteen, perhaps - but the habit and the wide eyes made her seem younger. 

Yuri gave her his special ‘talking to vulnerable kids’ smile. “How do you do, my lady?”

Byleth stared at Yuri. A theme. 

Rhea frowned, squeezing Byleth’s shoulder one last time before dropping her hands. “She hasn’t talked much since it happened. She…doesn’t seem to remember anything.”

“Anything about what happened?”

“Anything at all. She can’t seem to recall anything about her family or her life. Darling, you ought to get your knuckle out of your mouth.” Rhea ducked her head, staring steadfastly at Byleth. The girl slowly dropped her knuckle from her mouth, looking a little spooked, before Rhea lifted her head again. “Byleth here was kidnapped. There are…some forces in Fodlan that place great value in Byleth. I don’t know how they learned about her, but they haven’t left her in peace since they found out. They’ve tried to kidnap her several times, but their latest attempt was successful. The Church knights were only able to rescue her two days ago. The knight who rescued her brought her to me immediately, and now I must bring her to you.”

“Have you spoken with Aelfric about this?”

“Of course. He’s already given his consent.” Rhea’s eyes glimmered strangely in the light. Sometimes the only emotion from that woman Yuri could truly understand was the dark depths of her sadness. “Discretion is of the utmost importance. The people after her will not give up.” 

Ah. Yuri understood. “Does she have a valuable crest?”

Rhea put a hand on Byleth’s head, slowly stroking her hair. Byleth went cross-eyed looking upwards and gawking at the hand. “Byleth is a very special girl.”

Alright, so don’t tell him. “You want to hide her and her family in Abyss?” 

But Rhea just shook her head, expression mournful. “Byleth is an orphan. She will be alone in Abyss. That’s why I must ask for your help, Yuri.”

In the girl’s big dark eyes Yuri saw only trouble. Abyss sheltered plenty of people in hiding, but the people after Byleth seemed to be on a different level. If hiding the girl here brought danger into Abyss, then…

Then she was still a girl who needed help. Yuri would deal with any danger as it came. 

“Madame Birch will be happy to take her in.” Yuri smiled at Byleth again, taking care to crinkle his eyes and gave it positive energy. “My friend Madame Birch takes care of kids just like you, Byleth. She’ll be so excited to meet you. I know some girls her age in your house who’ve been begging me for another friend.” 

But Rhea just shook her head, expression somber and firm. “The forces after Byleth are powerful. I need to place her with the strongest person in Abyss - the person most able to protect her. That’s you, Yuri. Please take her yourself.”

Ah. What?

For the first time, Yuri had to fight to keep his expression and tone still. “My lady, my workload frequently takes me out of Abyss.”

“Then I can reduce your workload.”

That perked Yuri’s ears. He was a fool for not recognizing it immediately. Rhea was desperate. Her emotional involvement in this was far greater than keeping a tool out of the hands of the enemy. Byleth had to be family somehow - maybe even a secret daughter. Having a secret daughter of Lady Rhea in Yuri’s back pocket…under his exclusive supervision…

It was a death knell if anything happened to the kid. But the leverage was too good to pass up.

Fuck, he could even negotiate right here and now. He ought to send Byleth out of the room for this, but it was important that she understood what was happening and why. As much as she seemingly could - the girl may be a little touched. It didn’t matter, obviously, but it would necessitate a change in approach.                 

“Well,” Yuri said slowly, “the greatest distraction from Abyss would be my jobs. I would like to stay in Abyss full-time. Give her a more consistent upbringing.”

Rhea’s eyebrow quirked upwards, but Yuri was unrepentant. She knew what she was doing by looping him in. “I’ll reduce the quantity of jobs I assign you.”

“To once every four months, perhaps.”

“Once every two.” 

“That would be highly detrimental for Byleth’s childhood development.”

Evenly, Rhea said, “Going forth, I will give you a job every three months at maximum. Is that a deal?”

That was fucking fantastic. Yuri was almost lightheaded, but he pressed on. “Sounds like a deal. But raising a child is no simple matter, my lady. Child-proofing the environment, educating her, feeding her…Abyss is run on a razor-thin budget. The expenses concern me.” 

Rhea sighed. “I will funnel more money into your personal budget to compensate for the expense.” Yuri waited patiently. “And into the Abyss orphanages. Anything else, Yuri?”

She could be such a sucker sometimes. Sometimes Yuri wondered if she let him do it. Definitely not. Probably not. 

“I’m satisfied. You’re as generous as always, Lady Rhea.”

“This is in exchange for Byleth’s safety.” Rhea’s expression sobered, the soft silk solidifying into stone. “In exchange for what I’m giving you, I need her safety absolutely guaranteed. Nothing can happen to this girl.”

“No need to fret, my lady. Abyss is the safest place in Fodlan. Nobody even knows we exist.” Yuri bent down a little, smiling at Byleth. She had regained access to her knuckle, and was chewing it fastidiously again. “What do you say, Byleth? Want to go home with me?”

If the girl wasn’t touched, she must have understood. She must understand that the woman who would not admit to a relationship with her had just bartered for her residency with a teenage assassin, den mother, and prostitute. All things considered, the price had been insultingly low. 

Byleth just stared at him. Alright, maybe she didn’t understand. That would make this harder. Yuri really should have asked for more money. Teach the girl the first and most important lesson of her new life: that you should never sell yourself for less than what you were worth. Or market value, if you couldn’t get any buyers otherwise. Maybe this was just market value. 

Smile, Yuri. Smile. “I think we’re going to have a lot of fun together, Byleth.” 

Byleth blinked. At least she was a quiet child. This would be easy. 

______________

This was impossible.

This was shit. Absolute and complete shit. Why wasn’t she like Bernadetta? Yuri had thought she would be like Bernadetta. All Bernadetta did was nap, read, exhaustively detail the plot of her book, and cry. Byleth couldn’t even read. Apparently, when children couldn’t read, they decided to follow you around instead.

Everywhere. She followed him everywhere. When Yuri sat in the small storage room he co-opted as an office she crawled underneath his desk and swiped at his ankles. When Yuri visited the rogue’s encampments and gave the leadership its newly tightened security measures, she ran around the training field and started waving wooden training swords around. It took three rogues to wrest a sword from her. When Yuri made the rounds of Abyss and talked to its citizens, hearing every problem and offering every condolence he could, she hovered at his heels and gawked at every conversation with wide eyes. 

It was like having another googly-eyed shadow. Yuri didn’t have five seconds to himself anymore. He couldn’t even visit the tavern and unwind by flirting with one of his regular hook-ups - something about having a thirteen year old (twelve? Fourteen?) hovering at your elbow really killed your game. This must be what the older girls used to refer to as cockblocking. 

Byleth still hadn’t said a word. She observed, but never really listened. Still couldn’t read or write. She could catch the rats scuttling around the gutters with her bare hands. The girl may be touched. Which, again, didn’t matter - but it made it extraordinarily difficult to convey to her the importance of ‘me time’. Or ‘don’t eat that’. Or ‘put down that sword’.

It was official. Byleth was a demon. Figured that the wolf in sheep’s clothing would spawn a feral little wolf cub. Yuri should have charged more. 

At least Aelfric had his back. The cardinal had little time to sneak down into Abyss, but he had begun sparing whatever time he could towards playing with Byleth. Aelfric practically begged Yuri to allow him to spend time entertaining Byleth, saving Yuri from the effort of begging Aelfric to take her. Last time Yuri checked, Aelfric spent their time together teaching Byleth her letters in the destroyed classroom. And thank the goddess for that. 

“I don’t understand why she didn’t ask me,” Aelfric said, for roughly the hundredth time. They were sitting at a stone desk in the classroom, eating a coarse but filling breakfast. Byleth was cramming a hunk of bread the size of her face into her mouth. “I have my duties, but I would have gladly forfeited them for the sake of this child. You’re barely more than a child yourself, Yuri -”

Yuri couldn’t help but bark a sharp laugh. “You do realize that you and my mother are the only people who have said that in a decade.”

“That doesn’t make it untrue,” Aelfric said gently. Yuri ducked his head, focusing on pressing a napkin into Byleth’s hands and directing her to wipe her own face. There was no way this girl even knew how to do her makeup. Ridiculous. “Rhea shouldn’t have put this responsibility on you. I don’t know what she was thinking, honestly.” 

That made Yuri feel a little defensive. Byleth pushed away her plate, gnawing on her final hunk of bread, and Yuri pulled over her writing tablet. Aelfric had even sprung for a few pieces of paper and pencils dyed bright colors. Yuri hurriedly placed the paper and pencils in front of her. Last he remembered, drawing was an activity favored by younger children, but Byleth couldn’t exactly partake in the age-appropriate activities of gossiping, bullying other girls, sewing, or reading. Goddess, did she even know how to sew or embroider? Yuri would have to teach her.

“I could beat anybody in Abyss in a straight fight,” Yuri said. He hoped his defensiveness didn’t show. It was a little harder to hide with Aelfric. “Even you. More importantly, I know how to be stealthy and hide myself and others. I know the Abyss system like the back of my hand. As far as Abyssans go, I understand why Lady Rhea thought I was the best choice.”

“I’m not doubting your talent, Yuri,” Aelfric soothed, “I just don’t understand why Rhea couldn’t have put Byleth in the care of an adult. You have enough responsibilities of your own without adding another one on the heap.”

Yuri bristled. “I’m almost eighteen.”

“Eighteen with the burdens of a thirty year old.” Aelfric sighed, and Yuri guiltily subsided too. It wasn’t right to get defensive at Aelfric. After everything the man did to help him, he at least deserved the benefit of the doubt. “I just want you to enjoy what remains of your youth. There’s a sweet nun volunteering at the orphanage -” Yuri groaned. “Yuri, why can’t you hear me out on this?”

“You’re always going on about finding a nice girl, Aelfric -”

“Because you’re re-traumatizing yourself with all of these men,” Aelfric said patiently. Yuri looked down at his hands, restraining himself from picking at a manicured cuticle. “Look at you, Yuri. You haven’t changed any of your habits. You’re still trying to appeal to men. You have to begin to heal.”

There was something heavy and old in Yuri’s chest. It was a burden that never grew lighter - a pain that never retreated. The best he could do was ignore it. But Yuri kept picking at it all the same. “It’s not my fault that men continue to approach me.”

“But it’s your responsibility to turn them down. And men wouldn’t approach you so often if you didn’t wear all that makeup.” 

When Yuri spoke, his voice was quieter than he expected. He had wanted it to be louder, stronger. But something had cut it down. “It’s not for them…”

A small, bony finger poked Yuri’s side.

He looked over at Byleth, who was staring at him with her usual wide, serious eyes. She picked up her picture and presented it to Yuri, who took it and inspected the image carefully. 

It was of them. The girl was a far better artist than he expected, and although the proportions were a little wonky Yuri could clearly recognize all three of them. They were sitting on crates outside of a tent - a tent that resembled the ones in Abyss, but was more reminiscent of a standard issue mercenary’s tent. Yuri was drawn with great care, sitting straight backed on the crate and staring straight at the viewer. His makeup was exaggerated and poorly applied. Aelfric sat on Yuri’s left, wrinkles clearly outlined and his blood-red habit engulfing his figure. The red lines on the habit seemed closer to bloodstains. 

In comparison to the rest of the drawing, Byleth’s figure was remarkably undetailed. She only drew the faint outlines of herself, with a few expressive lines demarcating an abstract face. The greatest level of detail was in the giant brown jacket she never took off - the careful impressions of its stitches and metal buttons were a strange contrast to the ghost wearing it. 

“This is excellent,” Yuri said, genuinely impressed. Sometimes it was easy to think of her as younger than thirteen-or-so, but at other times her true age was perfectly obvious. Even the ghostly Byleth felt more like an artistic choice.  “I like your usage of color. It’s very powerful.” He pointed at a spot in the upper left of the page, tucked in the corner closest to Byleth and furthest than everybody else. It was just a tight swirl of green pencil - the gradient of density between the thick middle and loose outsides giving the green a strange halo-like impression. “Is this the sun?”

Byleth gave him a disgusted look. Yuri could guess: ‘the sun isn’t green, moron’. Potentially: ‘what sun? What’s a sun? I know only the Depths’. 

“Then what is it?” 

Byleth tugged the drawing away from him, replacing it on the table and attacking the page with a pencil. Chewing the edge of the pencil, mind working furiously, she carefully wrote out a word. She stared at the word, scratched it out, and then tried again. She put down her pencil, nodded in satisfaction, and showed it to Yuri again.

He squinted at the page. In messy, juvenile script underneath the halo - with an arrow carefully drawn towards the halo, in case he missed the reference - she had written ‘SOHTHESE’. 

“Sohthese?” Yuri asked, hiding confusion. “Is that a friend of yours?” Byleth shook her head. Then she nodded. “Is…that a yes or no?”

“She’s making great progress, but her spelling needs work. Let me see.” Aelfric held out a hand, and Yuri silently passed him the page. Aelfric took one look at the page and his eyebrows jumped. “I think she means ‘Sothis’. Is that correct, Byleth?” Byleth nodded vigorously. “Where did you hear that name, Byleth? I don’t think I ever told you that.” 

Wait. That name was a little familiar. “Is that the name of a saint?” Yuri asked. “I didn’t know you were giving her catechism classes.”

“I’m not. And it’s the name of the Goddess herself. It’s not very well used - typically only scriptural scholars use it with any regularity.” Aelfric frowned down at Byleth, and for the first time his expression seemed troubled. “Where could you have heard that word…?”

“Wow,” Yuri panned, “I wonder where the secret daughter of Lady Rhea heard the name of the goddess. The world may never know.” 

“Please, Yuri, be serious.” Aelfric was still frowning, staring at the paper intently. Byleth gestured for him to give the paper back, but he didn’t seem to notice. He just stared and stared at the paper, walking mental paths far beyond the provincial little world of Yuri and Byleth. 

“Aelfric, I think she wants the paper back.”

“What? Oh, yes.” Aelfric looked up, still somewhat dazed. “Could I potentially keep this, Byleth?” Byleth shook her head no. “I see. That’s alright, then.” He passed it back, and Byleth tugged it firmly out of his hands. She replaced it on the table, smoothing it over carefully. 

“I didn’t figure you for the religious type,” Yuri told Byleth. Byleth shrugged. “Are you going to become a nice nun too?”

“There’s nothing wrong with marrying a good woman and settling down,” Aelfric scolded lightly. “A home and a family is the greatest joy a young man can have. If you don’t change your behavior, you’ll never find happiness. I’m only worried about you.”

An extensive, agonizing rip split the air. 

Byleth was holding up the carefully constructed drawing in clear view of both men. Making direct and unblinking eye contact, she looked at Aelfric and ripped the paper straight down between Yuri and Aelfric. Yuri and Aelfric stared at her in shocked silence as she finished cruelly ripping Aelfric from the paper, balling up his figure in one clenched fist and carefully replacing the cropped page on the table. Yuri, Byleth, and Sothis looked very happy together. Aelfric’s face was split in half. 

Silence burdened the room. Aefric and Yuri gaped at Byleth in pure shock. Byleth happily took a blue pencil and began threading in streaks of blue in the green halo. 

A bark of laughter escaped Yuri’s chest. His chest was light and full, and the thick iron bars that held his broken pieces together loosened and allowed him to breathe. Another burst of laughter escaped the abandoned prison, then another, and then the inmates began running the asylum. Yuri began wheezing, clutching his own stomach as he laughed uncontrollably. 

Then Byleth laughed too, a light and ugly snort. It was the only sound he had ever heard from her. After weeks, the first and only sound Yuri had ever heard from Byleth was laughter. No tears, no screams of pain, no words begging for help, no moans for food - just laughter. A small smile painting the face of the girl as silent as death.

Yuri and Byleth, two prisoners unrestrained for the first time that they could remember, laughed together in defiance. 

In the end, Byleth had given the picture to Yuri. She had forgotten about the whole incident after a few months - a few years later, when prompted about that picture and the Goddess, Byleth would just stare blankly in confusion. She didn’t remember those days well.

Yuri remembered them. He remembered the picture too. He had placed the picture between two pages of a book and hidden it inside a desk. It remained in that desk for a very long time, and nobody but him ever knew it existed.

_____________

And then he lost her. 

He lost her. Aelfric asked if he could babysit her for the day, and because Yuri was tired and wanted some time to himself and to actually go on a freaking date for once he said yes, and when Byleth’s curfew at 2100 passed she and Aelfric still were not home. Aelfric knew to get her home by curfew. He knew that Byleth had to stay in Abyss for her own safety. He knew.

Yuri combed all of Abyss, top to bottom. Images of Aelfric and Byleth floating face down in the canal flashed throughout his mind. But a rogue stationed at one of the entrances from the monastery into Abyss said that he let Aelfric and Byleth through the entrance only a few hours ago. Apparently Yuri had asked Aelfric to take Byleth to the chapel to pray. The guard hadn’t thought twice about it. Yuri was Byleth’s guardian, but it was Aelfric. Some people were above suspicion. Some people could take children wherever they wanted. 

Yuri sprinted back to his room and threw on his spare pilfered Academy uniform, stolen from the closet of a noble boy who should have known better. He pulled on the jacket as he ran, feet thumping in time with the omnipresent dripping of water and the squeak of rats, and his mind was nothing but blaring static as he unscrewed the entrance to one of the least-known entrances into the monastery. 

He climbed the ladder at top speed, stopping only to grab the stone handle at the very top of the chute. He pushed full force against the handle, and after a second he heard the hard grind of stone on stone as the mechanism was activated and shifted the statue of Saint Cethlenn to the side. It was one of the finicky trapdoors that was almost impossible to access from above ground, but relatively easy from below. Yuri often had morbid daydreams about Garreg Mach falling under attack and how he would evacuate the entire population of the school out through the tunnels. 

Yuri clambered out of the tunnel, hoisting himself into Seteth’s office. He looked around - empty, but the sound of voices echoed from the adjacent room - and quickly stood up so he could push the statue back into place. The voices were Rhea’s familiar cadence and another unfamiliar deep male voice. In any other circumstance, Yuri would have cared about revealing himself in front of a stranger.  Today, he barely thought about it. Yuri burst out of Seteth’s office and skidded into the main chambers, ignoring Seteth’s cry of alarm and the rustling sounds of the guard’s armor. Yuri only halted when he was directly in front of Rhea, looking up into her alarmed green eyes.

Yuri bent double, leaning on his knees and gasping for breath. Rhea leaned over him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. The other man in the room was absolutely huge, with big hair and bigger muscles. If it wasn’t for the Academy student’s uniform he would have assumed the man was in his thirties.

“Whoah,” the big guy said. “Where the hell did you come from?”

“Where,” Yuri gasped, hard and heavy, “is Aelfric?” 

Rhea paled, eyes widening. Fear. Why fear? “He told me he was visiting you today. What’s wrong?”

“Sounds great! So it’s official that nobody knows where Father Aelfric was, then?” The big guy waved around a thick folder of paper, one hand propped on his hip. “Because I hung out in his office for an hour waiting for him to show up to our appointment. He said it was important, too! All this stuff about helping save me from expulsion. And the guy can’t even show up? We’re talking about my future here!”

“Our guard saw him taking Byleth to the surface!” Yuri cried frantically. The big guy’s brows furrowed, but Yuri couldn’t be assed about him right now. “I can’t find Aelfric or Byleth anywhere in Abyss! Lady Rhea, you have -”

But Rhea was already straightening and turning to the guards. In a tone he had never heard before, she said, “Find Cardinal Aelfric and bring him to me immediately. Shut down the monastery until he and Byleth are found. Nobody in or out.” 

“I know where he might have gone.” The big guy flipped the folder open, flashing messy stacks of paper and ripped pages from books. “I got bored waiting around for him, so I went through his desk.” No wonder this guy was about to get expelled. “Never knew one guy could get so into his ancient mausoleum hobby. Would you happen to know anything about this, Lady Rhea?”

Lady Rhea was silent. Yuri was still shaking. He should have been shocked, he should have been horrified. But he wasn’t. Yuri knew. Yuri had always known, he just hadn’t wanted to see it. 

“This is all my fault,” Yuri whispered. He wanted to throw up. He knew this sort of nausea - the kind invoked by visceral disgust at something you found within yourself. “I let him take her. I let him run off with her. This is all my…”

The way Aelfric looked at her. The way he was constantly volunteering to babysit or entertain her for the day or homeschool her. Yuri had given him everything he wanted - every unsupervised visit, constant knowledge of her location, everything. Because Yuri had trusted Aelfric. 

Trusted. He could be doing anything to her right now, because Yuri had trusted.

Hands, unimaginably large and hairy. Sagging flesh pressing against his own. Was this how Byleth felt right now? Were big hands on her chest? Awful pain, burning like fire. What did Byleth look like when she was in that pain? Did she make the same sounds he had? The squeals and moans. Did they like hearing them from her too? 

“Yuri. Yuri, you have to breathe.” Lithe, strong hands enveloped Yuri’s hands and squeezed tightly. The melodic sound of Lady Rhea’s voice barely permeated the haze. “You’re at Garreg Mach, Yuri. You’re in the home of the Goddess. You’re seventeen. I’m here. Nothing may harm you so long as I’m here.” 

“This is my fault,” Yuri gasped. “This is all my fault.” 

“No, Yuri. Look at me.” Yuri shuddered a final breath before looking up at Rhea. Her expression was intent, but she was still so calm and composed. Yuri couldn’t say the same at all. “This is my fault. I didn’t share my suspicions with you. I’m the one who encouraged you to trust him. This was - this was all me.” 

It was? 

Rhea had known? Rhea had known that Aelfric wasn’t honest? She had known that Aelfric would take Byleth and she hadn’t said anything -

“I know.” Rhea’s expression creased, and a deep pain surfaced in her features. “I just thought…he loved her mother as I once did. Surely he would feel the same as I do…but I suppose not. People still disappoint.” 

Yuri tugged his hands out of Rhea’s, and she let them go. He scrubbed at his face, constantly fighting to keep hold of his breaths and sanity. He was not about to have another stupid flashback. He wasn’t. Not in Garreg Mach and not in front of the stupid Archbishop. He wasn’t going to catastrophize. Byleth was fine. He had fucked up and failed her and it’s all his fault that terrible things are definitely happening to her right now, but it was fine.

“I hate men so damned much,” Yuri muttered miserably. Some part of him was appalled that he had cursed in front of the archbishop, but every other part of him was far more concerned with far more important things. “I’m never trusting a man again. All men do is make children suffer.”

The big guy laughed awkwardly, passing the file folder to the somber Rhea before scrubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “On behalf of men, I guess I have to apologize. I like to think we’re not all that bad…not that I can blame a - um, you, for how you feel. Tell you what, alright?” The big guy flexed an arm, as if he was at a bar trying to impress Yuri, and clapped his hand on his admittedly impressive bicep. “I’ll save this little girl myself! I’ll chase down Father Aelfric, kick his ass, get that little girl safely home, and redeem men in the eyes of women and - ah, you, everywhere! Or my name ain’t Balthus von Adalbrecht!”

A von Adalbrecht. Great. Yuri couldn’t repress the sneer. “Your uncle yells the name of his wife’s brother in bed.”

Balthus stared at Yuri blankly. “How do you know that?”

“How do you think?”

“Oh. Oh! Oh, gross! Why’d you have to say that, man!”

“Blame him,” Yuri snapped. “I don’t need the help of some meathead nobleman. I’ll rescue her myself.” 

But Balthus just shrugged - as if this really was such a simple thing. “Why can’t we both rescue her?” 

“Because I don’t know you!”

“I just introduced myself. Balthazar von Adalbrecht, call me Balthus.” Balthus stuck out his hand, waiting expectantly for a handshake. “And who’re you supposed to be, kid from nowhere?” 

“I’m nobody. You ought to forget you ever saw me.” Rhea was already going to give him an earful over allowing himself to be seen. But Balthus was standing so expectantly, and despite that awful little trivia Yuri just shared he was still looking him in the eyes. “What do you even want from me?”

“What, you think that just because I want to help it means I want something from you?” Yes, that was exactly what Yuri thought. He wasn’t stupid. “Listen, pal. Even nobodies need some help here and there. I’m not exactly a saint, but any half-decent person would want to help you out. Since I’m the strongest, coolest guy in Garreg Mach, that means I have to help. It’s not exactly complicated.”

“There’s no such thing as decent people,” Yuri said sourly. 

Balthus whistled. “You’re a regular beam of sunshine, aren’tcha?”

“I haven’t seen the sun in weeks.”

“You haven’t what now?”

“Take Balthus with you, Yuri.” Lady Rhea’s tone brooked no argument, and Yuri had to give up. It was always a waste of time arguing with a noble. They would just take what they wanted anyway. “You two will take our elite church knights and rescue Byleth. I can lead the way - I think I know where Aelfric and Byleth are.” Rhea’s expression darkened, sending something crawling up Yuri’s spine. Seeing a dangerous expression on her felt…well, it felt more dangerous than usual. “I suspect he is desecrating a corpse right now.” 

“Wow,” Balthus said, impressed. “What the hell did I just walk into?”

“Captain Jeralt will arrive with the forces soon. We’ll leave then.” Rhea turned around, and Yuri and Balthus exchanged troubled looks. Her voice was poisonous. If she sounded like this, what expression was she hiding so carefully? “Aelfric will learn what Byleth’s true family is capable of.”

“Hell yeah!” Balthus cried, pumping a fist. “Go, fam!”

“We aren’t fam!” Yuri snapped. “What does that even mean?”

“But Lady Rhea just said that the bad guy’s gonna learn what -”

“That doesn’t make you fam.”

“But I’m on the team, and the team’s fam, so -”

“What is fam!”

At the time, Yuri’s only consolation had been the fact that he wouldn’t have to deal with Balthus for very long. He was a strong fighter with a compassionate heart, but if Yuri never saw another wealthy and spoiled nobleman again it would be too soon. Yuri hadn’t noticed when Byleth entered his heart, but that final and disastrous kidnapping session had proven it - whether they wielded the weapon or were the weapon, the people closest to you always hurt the most. Better to close your heart.

There were a lot of things Yuri hated about himself. The list was too long to count. But there was always one thing about himself that Yuri hated the most. One thing he just couldn’t stand.

Yuri just couldn’t close his heart. He just couldn’t do it. Every time he failed, and every time he had regretted it. There was no benefit to letting people in. He just couldn’t stop.

But Balthus had saved Byleth’s life that day. So maybe there was a benefit or two. Every once in a great while. 

If you were lucky. 

_________

Three days after Yuri and a moron saved a little girl from a bastard, Abyss received a visitor. 

Yuri received him outside the ruined classroom. It would probably be more professional to bring him to Yuri’s office or something, but Yuri frankly intended to get rid of him as quickly as possible. Team up with the church knights once and suddenly they think that they have the right to go stomping all around Abyss. But you couldn’t exactly tell the captain of the church knights to get off your lawn, so Yuri told Byleth that he would be back in a few minutes and stood outside the classroom in increasingly frustrated wait. 

Byleth had made big eyes at him. She obviously hadn’t wanted him to go. Ugh. He really hoped that this wouldn’t turn into a surprise administrative meeting that took five hours and never accepted Yuri’s input into anything. Yuri was re-teaching Byleth poker - she had undoubtedly already learned before she lost her memory, which was another strike against the ‘secret lovechild of Lady Rhea’ theory that had been admittedly punctured by the corpse of her mother - and she was unsurprisingly excellent at it. Girl was a genius in math.

But Jeralt didn’t show up wearing armor. He was wearing casual, battered furs, leather, and a familiar canvas jacket. Surface people were always tense and anxious in Abyss, expecting to get mugged by rats with daggers at any moment, but there was a different quality about Jeralt’s anxiety. He seemed as if he was steeling himself for something. 

“Yuri.” Jeralt’s voice was always attractively husky, but it was closer to hoarse now. “Doing well?”

Yuri bowed, noting the bandage on Jeralt’s temple. “Yes, sir. All healed up. And you? That hit you took looked nasty.” 

Jeralt huffed a laugh, rubbing the bandage. “I’ve taken hits from bigger monsters. Don’t worry about it. I would have come to visit earlier, but they only let me out of bed this morning.” Jeralt cleared his throat, shifting on his feet. “Ah…is Byleth doing alright?”

“She’s been having nightmares, but she’s fine.”

“She is?” Jeralt looked unreasonably alarmed. “Is she waking up at night? What are you doing to help? Tea -”

“She’s been sleeping in my bed the past few nights, so I’m keeping an eye on her.” Yuri eyed Jeralt, suspicions only growing. There was something off about this conversation. “Can I help you, captain?”

“Right. Ah, right.” Jeralt shifted again and coughed. Mysteriously, he took off his cap and held it tightly. “I was hoping to drop in and say hello. See how she is.” 

Like hell he would.

“Byleth is busy doing her schoolwork.” Yuri’s voice could have frozen a flame. “You’ll have to come back later.”

“We don’t have to talk.” There was something old and weary in Jeralt. His husky voice was more of a rasp. “I just want to see her.”

Before he could restrain himself, Yuri snapped, “And why do you want to see her so badly?”

Snapping at the captain of the church knights. Fantastic. This was how you protected people - by alienating everybody else who wanted to help. That would do it. 

Jeralt did want to help. The man had been withdrawn and quiet during their rescue mission, but he had been the first to rescue Byleth’s mother’s corpse and prevent it from melting into the monster. He probably would have been the first to rescue Byleth if Yuri hadn’t gotten there first - if Yuri hadn’t used a careful vein of magic to swap positions with her. Byleth had landed safely near the entrance and Aelfric had found a nasty surprise when he turned to look down upon a girl laid out on an altar and came eye-to-eye with Yuri’s dagger. 

But that didn’t mean anything. Aelfric had helped Yuri and Byleth too, and look where that got them. Yuri didn’t know anything about Jeralt. He could have ulterior motives. He worked closely with Rhea, who was nothing but ulterior motives. The only person Yuri was certain didn’t have ulterior motives was Balthus, who was just clearly too stupid. 

Jeralt didn’t grow angry or defensive. He just looked a little sad. Yuri crossed his arms, fighting the urge to bristle. “How are you holding up, kid?”

“I wasn’t the one who was kidnapped.”

Jeralt huffed a small laugh. “It ain’t exactly easy on the onlookers, either. It’s alright if you’re not alright.”

“I’ll persevere somehow.” Yuri was quickly losing track of this conversation. Why was Jeralt asking about this? “Did Rhea tell you to check up on us?

“Rhea doesn’t know I’m here. She’s…strongly encouraged me to stay away from Abyss.” Jeralt’s mouth twisted unhappily. “She’s right. I really shouldn’t be here. I just…wanted to see her.” 

“And why is that?”

For a long, long moment, Jeralt didn’t answer. Great. He couldn’t even think of a good lie. He couldn’t even say that he wanted to make sure she wasn’t injured, or assure himself that he had gotten her out of there intact - Yuri would have even believed those bland excuses. But he had nothing to say for himself at all. How suspect. 

The door creaked open, and Yuri spun around just in time to see Byleth poking her head out of the classroom. Yuri opened his mouth, ready to reprimand her and shuffle her quickly back inside where no suspicious men resided, but he was too slow. The second Byleth saw Jeralt her eyes widened, and Yuri saw her eyes light up for the first time. 

“Jeralt!” Byleth cried. 

She dived forwards, and Jeralt automatically crouched down to accept the hug. They squeezed each other tightly - Byleth hanging on for dear life, Jeralt fighting shuddering breaths. His hand pressed on the back of her lead, warm and protective. 

So she could speak. Yuri had been wondering. Her first word of her new life was…Jeralt. That was fine. Good for her. And Jeralt.

“Hey, kid,” Jeralt rasped, throat thick. “How’ve you been?”

Byleth patted the top of his head. 

Alright, that was enough. Yuri took the white collar of Byleth’s neat little navy blue dress, pulling gently until he reeled her back away from Jeralt. The effect was somewhat like a scruffed kitten, but whatever worked. Yuri’s carefully tied puffy twin pigtails didn’t help the kitten impression. 

“Don’t run towards strange people,” Yuri scolded. “This is why you keep getting kidnapped.”

Byleth wriggled around until Yuri finally sighed and released her. Jeralt slowly rose, but Byleth ran back towards him and tugged hard at his jacket. Jeralt raised a patient eyebrow, watching Byleth carefully. 

Yuri had distantly noticed it before, but now that Byleth drew attention to the jacket it was obvious. It was a very familiar jacket. Not identical to Byleth’s old one - the giant canvas jacket that she never took off - but it was similar in fit and cut. 

“What do you need?” Jeralt asked. Byleth tugged harder at the jacket, as if she was trying to pull it off him. “Use your words, kid. You can do it.” Byleth heroically attempted to rip the jacket from Jeralt’s body. Yuri made a strangled noise, but Jeralt didn’t blink. “You have to start speaking up sometime. I bet Yuri over there wants to hear your voice too.” 

Byleth’s eyebrows ticked together, but she finally released the jacket. She stared fixedly at Jeralt, who amicably allowed himself to be stared at. Finally, she said, “Aelfric lost jacket.” 

Automatically, Yuri corrected, “Aelfric lost my jacket.”

“Aelfric lost my jacket,” Byleth parroted. She poked at Jeralt’s canvas jacket again. “I want the jacket again.”

Turned out that there was one way Byleth could be even more trouble - opening her mouth. Yuri sighed, already regretting his life. “Byleth, you’re being incredibly rude. You can’t just ask adults to -”

But Jeralt was already shucking his jacket, with no hesitation or thought, and passing it to Byleth. She brightened, clutching the thick material tightly and burying her face in it. She smelled it deeply, making Jeralt’s expression crease into something absolutely unfamiliar to Yuri, before swinging the jacket on and allowing it to swallow her up yet again. This edition went to her knees, looking far more like a baggy coat than anything else, but she beamed up at Jeralt in absolute joy anyway. She turned to Yuri, spreading her arms out and silently bragging about how great her new jacket was.

Something that should have been obvious weeks ago suddenly became extremely obvious. “You’re the one who gave her that first jacket. The one she never took off.” 

“She never took it off?” Jeralt smiled a little, but the weight on his shoulders only seemed to grow. “I gave it to her after I rescued her from her kidnappers last time. She was - ah, she just seemed cold. I assumed she had thrown it away or something.”

“You’re the one who rescued her?” Hadn’t Lady Rhea mentioned something about this? “Wait - are you the one who brought Byleth to Garreg Mach?”

“Yup. It’s why I wanted to see her again.” Jeralt patted the top of Byleth’s head, who swelled her chest in pride. “She’s picked up a habit of getting into trouble.”

That did explain it. No wonder he was invested. After so much work invested in keeping her alive, Yuri would want to check up on her too. Why couldn’t he just say that?

Byleth looked seriously up at Jeralt. “Thank you for the jacket.” 

“I knew you had manners in there somewhere.” Jeralt crouched down again, looking just above Byleth’s head. Yuri had noted weeks ago that she didn’t like eye contact, but it seemed that Jeralt knew that too. “Try not to lose that one. But if you do, come right back to me and I’ll give you another one. Alright?”

Byleth nodded. 

Jeralt sighed. He put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly. Byleth leaned into the touch a little. “Be more careful from now on. Your world will only grow more dangerous as you get older. You have to be ready, so train hard.” Impulsively, he took the cap off his head and placed it on her own. It fell over her eyes immediately, far too large for her, but she hurriedly pushed it upwards. “Listen to that brother of yours. His life looks hard enough already, so don’t make it any harder.” 

Byleth’s eyes widened. “Brother?”

“Brother?” Yuri squawked. “Please, Captain, Rhea hired me to supervise her. This is just an arrangement.” 

Jeralt shifted to look at him, and Yuri saw flint in his eyes for the first time. “We need to separate Byleth from her past life even further. We don’t know if Aelfric told anybody about the identity of Byleth’s mother. Connecting her to you is safest for both of you. Guess I should have asked first, but it’s a matter of her safety.” 

“This is an arrangement.”

“Then arrange a fake relationship. You need some excuse for why you’re joined at the hip. Pretend she’s some orphan you took in under your wing - it’s not even a lie.” Jeralt straightened, turning to look at Yuri for the first time. His expression was somber and serious, but he looked smaller without his jacket. “Look, kid. I admit I wasn’t happy when Rhea passed her off to you. Rhea has her own reasons for everything she does, and you’re…” 

He trailed off, clearly struggling for political correctness, before Yuri took pity on him. “An ex-whore who moonlights as Rhea’s lackey?”

“Saints, kid, that’s not what I was about to say -”

“What’s a whore?” Byleth asked loudly.

Yuri looked down at her. “Somebody who’s so good at something that they never do it for free.” Byleth nodded sagely, and Yuri looked back up at Jeralt. Jeralt didn’t seem happy, but Yuri wasn’t paid enough to entertain him. “And even if you weren’t crass enough to say it, it’s the truth. You don’t trust Rhea and I do whatever she says. Trust me, Captain, I wouldn’t be happy either. You don’t have to cozy up to me.”

“I wasn’t happy because you’re seventeen years old,” Jeralt said firmly. Yuri rolled his eyes. Not this shit again. What was with adult men always reminding him that he was in his teens? Did they get off on it or something? “I knew Rhea would put her with somebody she trusted absolutely. I just didn’t want that person to be you.” 

Of course he didn’t! Who the hell would? Yuri was beginning to have a sneaking suspicion about Jeralt’s relationship to Byleth - nobody else would have thought to rescue a corpse before an imminent battle - and no self-respecting father would want their daughter around somebody like Yuri. Byleth was pure and innocent. As innocent as a thirteen year old could ever be - wiped clean of her old life, completely noncognizant of the world around her. How often had she seen the sun since she met Yuri? She hadn’t even spoken before now. The girl had a damned imaginary friend, for heaven’s sake. Byleth was innocent in every way, and Yuri was filthy.

“Saints, kid, don’t give me that face. It’s not because of your background. It’s just obvious that you have more than enough on your plate. Don’t you have a city to govern? Evil errands to run for Rhea? I just don’t know how the hell you have time.” 

“Do you think I can’t do it?” Yuri snapped. “I have more than one skillset, you know.”

Jeralt exhaled heavily, scrubbing his face. “You are the least charitable - never mind.” He was uncharitable? Maybe he just didn’t buy stupid lies. “None of this is coming out right. What I’m trying to say is that you need whatever help you can get. Calling yourself siblings would make your life easier. But I’m hardly going to force you into it. Do whatever you want, kid. I’m not in charge of you.” Slightly quieter, he said, “I’m not in charge of either of you.” 

Yuri wanted to call Jeralt a bad father. He knew already that Jeralt was probably the best father he’d ever met. Taking up a job with somebody he clearly hated for the sake of staying near a daughter he was barely allowed to see. Who he couldn’t even claim, because some mysteriously evil people were after her and she was safest in complete anonymity. Some fathers would cheer at the opportunity to ditch their daughters, but the pain in Jeralt’s voice was real. And yet he wanted to tie her to Yuri. 

It would only contaminate her. He was already ruining her. Yuri had to stay away, he had to keep her out - if only for her own sake. To protect her from Yuri, and to protect Yuri from the world. Yuri couldn’t let anybody else inside. Too dangerous for everybody.

But refusing Jeralt’s proposal wouldn’t protect her from the world. And maybe a father was thinking about a factor that Yuri had missed completely. 

The fact that her mother was a shockingly well-preserved corpse and her father had to disown her. Rhea was somehow related to her, which was bad enough, but she couldn’t claim her either. Even Yuri had a mother. To the world, Byleth was alone. That was…

“Fine.” Yuri had lost this battle. He had probably also lost the war. Whatever. He fought for his own side anyway. “But I won’t force her to call me that. She’s not terribly attached to me.”  

It was the rational thought. Yuri had repeatedly left her alone with a freak and allowed her to get kidnapped again. It was a miracle her real family hadn’t fired Yuri the second she got kidnapped. 

But Byleth’s brow furrowed in outrage. Yuri fought the urge to startle - he had almost forgotten she was there. “I like you.”

The words stopped Yuri short. He wasn’t sure why. They weren’t strange words, were they? 

His hesitation must have been obvious, even to Byleth, because she promptly grabbed him in a giant hug. It was small, comforting, and warm. Her small body fit nicely next to his, and when he folded his arms over her he could almost envelop her. 

Jeralt just gave him a wry grin. “I guess you were too far away to hear. Remember how I was right next to you when you swapped positions with her?” Yuri nodded. “When she appeared in your place, I scooped her up and put her on my horse immediately. I think she knew what had happened. She called out your name. Damn near tried to jump from my horse and run towards you too.” 

That didn’t seem right. But she had hugged him after the fight, hadn’t she? Balthus had called it adorable. Come to think of it, Balthus had asked if Byleth was his sister too…Yuri hadn’t known what to say. He didn’t know what to say now.

Jeralt propped a hand on a hip, smiling. “You see that, Byleth? Yuri didn’t know you liked him. From now on you’ll have to speak up and tell him you like him a lot.” Byleth nodded fastidiously. “Attagirl. Hey, can you take that book from the inside pocket and pass it to your brother? It has something he might want to see.” 

Byleth eagerly separated from Yuri and completed the errand, pulling out a small book from a jacket pocket and passing it to Yuri. Yuri opened it and began flipping through it, just barely catching scraps of documents and notes that came slipping out. 

“Check the last few pages,” Jeralt said. “We found it in Aelfric’s things. Actually, that klepto student found it. Is that guy a friend of yours or something?”

“Or something,” Yuri muttered. 

Byleth stared up at Jeralt. “Is Balthus my brother too?”

“No,” Yuri said.

Jeralt shrugged. “If you want. He’s rich, so maybe you can fleece him.”

“I already tried,” Yuri said distantly, flipping through the book. Something about four crests…notes on a very familiar crest. Balthus’ pilfered paperwork had already revealed that Aelfric had targeted him for his crest. That had burned. Yuri was trying not to think about it. “He’s broke and only attracted to older women.” 

Pity, too - Yuri could have had an excellent sucker on that reel. He made his move during the ‘post-rescue a little girl drinking party!’, but Balthus just pointedly pretended he didn’t pick up on what Yuri was doing and started talking loudly about how Yuri reminded him of a hypothetical younger brother. It was frustrating. Yuri still didn’t know why Balthus had helped him. There was probably a secret motive that Yuri just hadn’t picked up on yet. Or maybe Balthus actually -

Yuri stopped short. This page was about Balthus. About the von Adalbrechts, and some sort of mysterious crest in their family legend. Right alongside a personality profile on Balthus…notes on his attendance and conduct issues…character notes…records of meetings and conversations with Balthus…lists of broken school rules…apparently psychologically unstable…

Yuri flipped a page backwards. It was on him. He caught a few paragraphs on his history before he quickly flipped forward. He didn’t want to know what Aelfric thought of his personality. Probably just called him a slut for two straight pages. Definitely marked him down as psychologically unstable.

But there were people besides Yuri and Balthus in the notebook. Right after Balthus’ incomplete profile, there was another name and short descriptor. Constance von Nuvelle. Another rich bitch noblewoman. Current student of the Fhirdiad School of Sorcery…extremely high grades for her first few years at the school before they plummeted half a year ago. Now at risk of dropping out. Extensive record of conduct issues, same as Balthus. Aelfric made note of…severe psychological instability, whatever that meant. And a certain crest…

Yuri flipped through Constance’s profile until he found another. Hapi, no last name - a commoner. Extensive hypothesizing on the power of her crest and little information about her. Current resident of a church in the middle of nowhere. Psychologically unstable.

“This explains why Aelfric was having those private meetings with Balthus,” Yuri muttered. “I guess we both have powerful crests. These two women must also have powerful crests…but why keep tabs on them specifically? Why keep tabs on all of us?”

“Aelfric talked about blood a lot,” Byleth said seriously. Yuri really shouldn’t have left him alone with her. 

“I should contact Lady Rhea about this,” Yuri said. He continued flipping through the book - going through Yuri Leclarc, Balthus von Adalbrecht, Constance von Nuvelle, and Hapi’s profiles again and again. Four strangers placed right next to each other, thrown together by fate. “She’ll definitely be interested in learning about Constance and Hapi.” 

Byleth peered over his arm, trying to take a glance at the book. Yuri let her. She could barely read. Maybe secrets would incentivize her to keep learning. “Are they important?”

“Probably not,” Yuri said. 

But even then, he had lied. Even then, he had already known. 

Call it intuition.