#Its hard tp put into words exactly what i hate so much about it but Endeavor not facing real consequences for his actions

[arson-09]

i dont think ill ever recover from the pure tragedy that is Touya Todorokis story/life. Genuinely the ending did mental damage to me

[moonlit-mizukage]

Chapter twenty-two: 11 things I hate about you 

Summary: Y/l/n Y/n, a third year at Sakura High School, is just a girl with a bad attitude towards anyone outside her small circle. When y/n’s younger sister starts first year, she gains a lot of attention. Unfortunately for everyone in school, the Y/l/n household has one rule, No dating till y/n does. Some people become just desperate enough to pay the leader of the “Monsters”, the trouble making group on campus, to date y/n. What will happen when she finds out? (All characters aged up to third year unless otherwise stated)

Tw: Swearing, fights, violence, oikawa piece of shit, black eye, teachers a dick, crying 

Word Count: 1.3K

An: So theres only 8 more chapters left of this story :0 I cant belive its almost done. I will be making a pull for my next idea maybe on chapter 26!!

An part2: Sorry my poem is so bad ugehgvy Tumblr wouldn’t let me format it nice so it is italicized !!

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Third person pov- Time skip tp Monday 

Y/n closed her locker as Tendou was standing behind the door. 

“What the fuck do you want Tendou?” 

“Please just hear me out Y/n. It really isn’t what it seems.” 

“You took the money Tendou. You got paid to date me. So step the fuck back. I don’t want to be late to class.” 

“Y/n… Let me explain, please.” 

“See you in English if you decide to go again asshole.” She pushed past him and headed to where Shirabu was. 

“What did he want?”

“Just to try and make up some shit probably. I don’t have time for assholes.” 

“Speaking of assholes, you know how you showed me that shit from Oikawa at your place?” 

“Did he already try something?” 

“He walked up to me and apologized to my face.” Shirabu said. 

“Are you for real? He really talked a big load of shit about it and then took 5 steps and gave up.” Y/n said with a laugh. 

The two walked in the direction of their first period as Tendou walked outside to the underside of the bleachers where the Monsters hang out. 

“Guess... you look like shit. Where the hell were you all weekend?” Hanamaki asked.

“Nowhere.” He said as he lit his cigarette. The others looked around at each other. They know something was off with him. 

Second period came quick and Tendou ventured into his class today on the off chance Y/n would give him even the shred of attention. 

“Good morning class, Oikawa I need you to take off those sunglasses you are inside after all.” Mr Yagami said. Oikawa removed the glasses to reveal a large balck eye beneath them. 

“Looks like someone finally got tired of your shit Oikawa.” The teacher said with a laugh. “Well would anyone like to be the first one to present their writing piece today?” Y/n raised her hand faster than anyone else. “Ah Mrs. Y/l/n. Please come up to the front.” 

She stood up as she grabbed her notebook from her desk. She walked to the front of the room and made direct eye contact with Tendou in the back. 

“Start when you are ready Mrs. Y/l/n.” The teacher said, giving her permission to begin. She took a deep breath. 

“I hate the way you approach me, and the way you have so much confidence about it 

I hate how you made me give you a chance, only to show me your true intentions so much later, 

I hate your dumb hair cut and  how proud you are after spending all that time to style it. 

I hate how you call me babe and how you could easily change my mind about things, 

I hate your dumb motorcycle and how you drive it when I am with you, 

I hate how you never texted or called, not even left me an email.

I hate when I was upset with you, you knew exactly how to cheer me up with your dumb smile,

I hate how you knew I would fall for you from the start and you even called it, 

I hate how you made me laugh like I never experienced before. 

I hate how everything you told me was based on a lie,” 

She took a deep breath, tears began to flow from her eyes at that moment. 

“I hate how you made me fall for you but your feelings were only a big dumb lie, 

But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you...

Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.”

She slammed her book closed and grabbed her bag as she ran from the class room, now sobbing.   

Tendou stood up as he chased after her but she was already gone from the halls without a trace of her presence even being there. 

Oikawa appeared behind him.  

“Looks like your nickname was more accurate then I could have ever thought.” Tendou turned around as he grabbed Oikawa’s shirt. He slammed him into the locker behind him. Before anyone even had the chance to blink, Kyotani and Terushima were behind him. 

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are but once highschool is over you will be nothing. Enjoy being a piece of shit for a little more time before we knock you down a few, monster style, you asshole. You fucked with the wrong man’s paradise. You will pay for it. How about another black eye to match the one Mei gave you hmm? I think that is honestly too nice to do.” He slammed his back again before he threw him to the ground and spit on him. Tendou stormed out the other two Monsters now joined the three that were there as they all left the building. 

Lunch time- small time skip 

Y/n was seated at the table next to Tsukishima who was next to her with Yamaguchi sitting across the table. Shirabu walked up with Kuroo and Bokuto behind him. 

“What the hell do you demons want?” Y/n spit out as them. 

“We come in peace. I promise.” Bokuto said as he raised his hands. 

“Unfortunately for me I have managed to befriend these two demons. Bokuto through volleyball and Kuroo by association. They told me some interesting shit about Oikawa though.” Shirabu said in a monotonous tone.  

“You can sit with us if you really want. I’m sure you will start beef with Oikawa though.” 

“He’s kinda in love with you so he probably thinks we would be doing reckon. That’s not why we are here though. I know what happened at the dance. Iwaizumi told us both about it.” Kuroo said. 

“I am so sorry Y/n! Please forgive me!” Bokuto shouted dramatically. He looked into your eyes and she could see he was on the verge of crying. 

“It’s okay! It’s not like you made him do it.” She said to him.

“No but I did get your number for him!” 

“He is exaggerating. He told Oikawa what locker number was mine and Oikawa went through my private property to get it.” Shirabu spoke up. 

“I won’t blame you for your friend being a massive piece of shit.” Y/n said with a smile. 

“Wow straight to the point, I like that.” Kuroo said.

“We can prove to you we are done with Oikawa if you’d like.” He pulled out his phone and showed her before he rescinded that he texted Oikawa ending their friendship. “Anyone who doesn’t support my deepest love for volleyball will never understand me.” He said with a serious look on his face. 

The rest of lunch they spent together, the few who had just met them had begun to feel different about the once Oikawa lackeys. They discovered they were not who they once thought and the same for the two new people who sat there today. The warning bell rang as they all were ready to separate. 

“Before we part, sorry shirabu. I talked shit about you one time in our old group chat with the other guys, not bokuto, I just felt like it would help me fit in.” Kuroo said. 

“I talked shit about you too cause I thought you were an annoying asshole like Oikawa. No hard feelings.” Shirabu said in his monotonous voice once again.  

“Wow all of you are brutally honest. I think I will like it here.” Kuroo said with a laugh. 

Everyone was now split up as Y/n was at her locker. Her phone Vibrated as she opened it to see another unknown number messaging her.  The message read: 

We need to talk after school...please… It’s satori by the way. I know you will say it too when you respond so I already told myself to Go to Hell before I sent this message. 

She sighed and put her phone back in her pocket. Her mind was stuck on him for the rest of the day. Even on her ride home with her friends and Mei, she could only think about what he might say to her when she finally answered.

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An: Sorry again about the bad poem,,,, 

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[lostinathoughtonceagain]

Im not sure where to start although i feel like i alwyas start with that.My mom says i seem to be doing  alot better and inn truth i am. I feel more myself and joyous and mre personality, and than theres still an emptiness that creeps in. The sort of weird shame feeling i used to get in mornings or without a shirt on, i got it today after grabbing clothes from my moms. maybe this is just a personal issue but im trying not to isolate myself in my emotions. TI appreicate and find it hard to understand the idea of common humanity. It is true humans all epereince these emotions and it is only to ones disadvantage when we tell ourselves were the only ones who have ever felt these emotions. In truth we are the only ones who experience things given we all have different perspectives, childhoods, personalities, and biology of our brains.. yet i think that an important to try to find the common humanity. empathy, relating to one another. we are more alike than we are different. YOu know when your on the freeway and you wonder where are all these people going. Myabe some are picking up there kids, going to a booty call, stopping to grab bananas at the store, and we wont ever know, everyone is all doing there own thing, eveyone is jsut driving just going to work doing things and im wo dering if anyone else is freaked out about what is happening. Why the hell are we here?n why iseveryone not freaking out with the little time we have, i want to make the most out of what is happeing i dont want to waste any more time not being  where i want to be, i wanted to be skinny so i can go on with my life. But i geuess thats alos the point of life. ive been so worried about living that i havnt actually been living. Im failing at an attempt to handle my shit. I look back on the past and how come i can only think, mostly think of the bad things. The relationships that i shouldve ended sooner cuz i didnt really lvoe them as i thought love would be. THey were all merely a disspointment. That sounds rude but to put it this way i alwyas thought there was something better for me. MY parents used to say at times “its never enough for you katie” maybe that is true. maybe im never satisidef. Maybe it was because they were tired and had tried there best and i failed because my needs wernt meant. not that they were needs. I think back to guys ive hooked up with and wish i had higher standards. why did i find satisfaction in attention from people that didnt even care about me. WHen guys used me and i was glad to let them. Especailly when i had previous ly had crsushes on them. FUCK BOYS WITH J names. i dont know why im writing as if im writing a story. maybe it makes it easier maybeim trying to articulate my thoughts into something there not. I think about things that have happened and hope i can maybe use them as a testimony maybe ill meet the love of my life adn get to share all these stories... but i dont things play out like that and thats a weird perspective to have on things thsat occur. Like as if im a narrator. I would get so ecited to send cute pictures of myself when i was  baby and show my boyfriends, or share things with them but then i realized something. they dont care, well definlty not like me. That ecitement about it is not the same as the one im epereiecning and when i was sent baby pictures of them, i didnt feel that warmth in my heart. maybe that makes me a bitch or emotionally disconnected. but how do i know if im feelin. what connections have i made. I used to want to be under the influence and gina my therapist said that people go to substances to feel connection. When i was on coke, life was beautiful i could talk to anyoe and everyone adn words flowed so well. In my head, looking back i probably looked like a crack head and thats the reality of it. I can manipulate my reality but to what is its value if its a lie. if no one else feels or sees what im seeing. ona  nother thought  i think we can make up these sotries in our heads that arnt even true. like somone tells us something or we feel a certain way about ourself so and it ends upso our whole olives our affected by this painting in our head only to find out no one sees what were seeing. my dad said that we can change the past, welll we can change our past by changing how we look at it. and i think if we could grasp it it would change our lives. I think that i could look back and not feel that shame, or not feel that embarressment. But am i not a sum of all the words thoughts and actions ive done or had uot o this point? thats depressing, but if it were something i was proud of then yes i would like to be. but the truth is all wehave is the now and you can start now being a totally different person, but you cant run away from all the consequences of the past i guess they jsut dont matter if you decide to change. but then what about bridges burned. i guess my plan b ina  sense is to run away to another country. but then theres legal issues and this whole system and ates and bad guys and tso m8uch to worry about that i dont feela  sense of freedom. my information is online and under a sytem and i undertsadn why i just wish everything could be quiet for sa sec. mayeb i dont want to be aktie stowers anymore. I get jealos of girls born and raised pretyy. all ive done is starved myself in the process of becoming what i want to be but thats not even me. if i have to starve to et there then i feel as though i dont actuallyl deserve to be skinny. and i fee l so vain for obsessing over this fucking thought. iw anted to be skinny this is what ive said from the beginging can someoine please help me do it. the probelm is that im in treatment for anoreica sub purge type and the reality is that i cant lose weight withought going to etreme measures. it became the most important thing in my life and ive been strung up on the same thought since fucking march of 2018. talk about time wasted. although i know thats no way of looking at it. ive learned lessons and have ad so many beautiufl things happpen. I get told very kind things about myself. i wonder if im actually a kind person or i only do things simply to be a kind person. if eel kinda selfish but i guess we all are. i mean think about how amny bad things are happening in this world and children starving and here i am buying things i dont need anf focuing on myself. but im not doing anything about it. i mean i try to tip etra give to homless ifi can i just feel guilt because i could be doing more but ijalso know that im not responsibly to save the world. jsut seems wrong the way things are. thats why i believe everyone goes to heaven. maybe because i cant wrap my head around the possily fact that barrett wouldnt and also becasue the idea of eternal damnation dosnt seem like the character of a god i want to serve. i see so much bullshit in the church and i just dont know . am i jsut angry. I became so jdugemntal of those judging me and thats just as worse but when theres almost a cluba nd you dont fit into there critera it fucking hutts. and that dosnt feel liek jesus i think jesus wouldnt let us be seperated by rleigion or if you drank last weekend. I think we should all unite and love each other and thats what reallly matters. yet here i am obsessed over being skinny. im down to 4 hour as of yesterday and i feel so much better i do. i just wish i could have one long 2 day therapy session whre i fucking figure out all my shit. ive gone to so much therapy and its been etremly helpful i jsut dont wanna waste anymore time with this baggage. I dont wanna go a minute longer when i could giure all this out. i guess what im saying is i want my life tp be an open canvas and not be unravveling and my childhood issues poopping up.. i want to go into the fututre knowing what i know adn epeireicning my life as it plays out. but i am 18 ishouldnt be thinking this much into things huh i should just let it be and lvie my life. i should be doung homework an teting my frienfds or going on a date. but thats not ther eality of things and alos i think ill look abck and things will be different. IOm also int reatment rn so oviously my situation is not exactly normal. i really do love to write i used to always want to be an author. but i dont kno0w anymore. i jsut dont really like how the sytem works i hate how we all have to go to college amd study things i dont give a fuck about and then some struggle at there 9-5 to merely surve eand ig uess i dont like the thoughr of that. and i know were suppsoed to find joys in the little things i think things are jsut freaking me out. iw ant to quit smoking nicatine but everyday i go out and do it. ig uess that meanns i dont really want to stop because if i did i would. i  and then i feel slightly guilty and opackiy because his is the only boduy im given. like does that not freak everyone out. this is the only way we are able to eperience life. think about how quickly it can be ended. i think that is too much pwier overmyself. nmot that im suicidal but i do think i hgave the power to find out super son what is after this life. judgment day, pure nothingness, maybe ill become a=one of the many ants i ahev enjoyed killed as a punsihemtn for msyelf. or hoe[fully and maybe ill entire a heaven with a lovuing god. a state of being with loved ones. I think thats why people like the idea of heavn the idea that you will see people later. but that discount the factof pain. when someones child dies they dont feel any less pain because a verse about being reunited with the,. because the truht im scared to tyee is that theres a possibility heaven isnt rela. and the loved one that is lost will never be in your reaach again.i feel sad for how ome peoples lifeves go. i hope they get a chance in the after life to have what they wanted. but then i think abotu abd guys. i wouldnt want them in my heaven. i guess maybe who we all our at our core is who would be in heaven beyond all the nasty. yet i dont believ flesh is nasty and i dont believ trying my whole life to not be something i was made to be. if my flesh is evil adn mankind is doomed what the fuck is that. i dont think god would set us upnto fail and i believ ehe understands we are human. and gpd is god and god knew everything that was going to happen up to npw. u know whats crazy is that on the time line we are on the edge of what is to come. being aluive rn. and its crazy that i wont be here in 100 years. ill be merely history. but rn we are whats happneing 7:12 november 11th. we are up to datebecause we are merely aliver. unless there is different universes and this is m,erely a simulation. but besides the point. barrett was talking about just how many books songs and information there is. that makes me pancik there is so many people so many things i could learn and musici could listen to that no one can listen to it all. maybe theresa song out there that is my favorite son that ill never get to lsiten to but i gues si jsut have to trust that the universe ligns up as it should and my life will happen as it should. and alll these things are happneing and were floating in the middle of space and yet i feel like people arnt freaking out. like what hthe actual fuck is happneing. and why do iu want to soedn my one life doing shit that dosn matter or something i dont even love. but thats how life works because you have to have moneya nd i do love bying things. and i jsut need to relax. because when people look back on there past they think if i could only tell msyelf its going to be okaya nd to have fun. why cant i do taht i mean i can but tehn these thughts come in. iwant to be skinny i also love food. starving was easy and i like d seeing my bones show,. i wanted people to see me and know i was hurting but people dont wanna be sround sa dpeople i guess i just wanted o be rescued. and at the same time it was nice to focus on the thingsd because even if all went ot hell if i restricted enought hat was okay my eating idsorder would tell me that  everything was going to be okay because i was taking care of the one thing i actaully wanted. writing this makes me sound crazy to msyelf. i have so many things i want to larn and do and so having an eating disorder makes me feel limated. amd truly it does limit me. it dosnt allow me to worry and think about these tihngs. i just really want to be skinnya dn i dont know where this started or why its so impiortant but i just am not a fann of my boyd. and i know tis terirble because im more than m y body and i know i cant stave mtyself and i know that this makes me self cenetred i know that it didnt pkay out as the damsel in distress that i wanted i know wthat i pushed loved ones away and made desisions taht really arnt alligned with my values because truly i didnt care i just wanted to get skinny i know i didnt look healthy bu in my mind that s the best ive eever looked. i know that the husband i meet is going to lvoe me for whats beond my appreance so it dosnt matter and getting atention from others isnt satisying and only leaves me feeling empty i knwo lifes to short to count your calories, to walk around feeling fraila nd loung every seconds. to reach 109 and not see a body close to what was at 116. to talk about numbers because they w]makr improtant parts of my life adn to allso swear that i dont care that much about the numbers. i care about the look. but if what they say is true and i ahve body dismprhia thats impossible. they say the eating idpsrder says itll never be enough. it will nevr be satisiuded. “ its never enough katie” never enough

and so maybe its me maybe im just this warped person. why do memories come back so weird and hwy did i have su h weird thoughts a s f\child. why do i get filled with so much rage. somtiems i think im the most grogeous girl and others i want to killmsyelf because i fel worthless. imm not suicdial but i can remeberthe first time i thought about killing kmyself i was in the abck seat of the car my brothers wre all teasing me about soething but for whatecer reason i was upset by it. i remebr crying and thinking how bad thye would feel if i killed myself. i carried this idealation iwht me later on. gina says i used this as a coping skill.w whenevr someone was mean, didnt say the right thing, didnt invite me, or a aprent said something hurtful. o thouhgt about it as if i were a ghost. watching how sad they were that they had not done better with me. that they said those angry words last to me instead of teeling me uhow much they lvoed me. that when they gossiped ghey felt so bad after because i was dead. i sometimes wish i could watch this unfold. but thats demented and evil. my ghost smiling with satifdaction as she watches loved one who id love and people who were simply lvingnthere life be affected by this. what good would it do to me or them. it would ruin them, does thaa amke mf evil. and then i realzie thats not how death wokrs. ill go to  wahtevr is after this.a dm why would i waste my eistence on a disguestingnromantizsm of revenge.  shpuld move on better msyelf and make connections and share with my lovedones hwen theyve hurt me or that i need more love.  i love treamnt. i love the lif3 im having. besids hating my body i love doing art and larning life skills and if eel like pooeple love me for me there and i can really be myself and support others. but i cant live my life in treatment. i want to relapse theres a few pros to this. one i get skinny againa dn can take pcitures while im skinnya dn try to do it a healthier way. 2 i can jsut go back to treatment and 3 thats a big fuck you to insuracne and theyll realize i coudlve used more help. my ancupucture lady said i need to let people help me adn its tru. i can read boooks hae copnversations go toa therapist but what goofd does it do if its not evn sticking with me. if i dont allow it to change me. im so stuck in that i want to be skinny. but im also tired of haojng my body, the thought about being okay iwht my body is sad to. ill jsut be ugly and not care? amd i wont be ablr to beas beautiful as i want to be. the law of attraction streases me out to because what if everytihng im writing is manif3sting as we speak. hut io cant just iugnore all thse thoughts. its good to journl ane write. i smoked the other night and told susan and brooke but lied to my treatment team. but honestly i was anxious the whole time and outside of playing with myself and dougna  trippy spiritaul mediaiton itwasnt the best time. it ,made me realize i enjoy beig sober bcecause i can do lall the things i want to do and not be stupid and i can be mindful. but then i feel a little desperate at the idea of not having anys ubstances. i sjsut need to create a good ralit y formyself. also i just don tfeel like im the little blon girl in my baby photos like me and her arnt \even the same person but i am i am her in 18 year old form. i jsut dont even know who i am or whats happening. iw ant to chilla dn i need to find balance. maybe this is because my brain has more room oto think about thoings. it kinda hurts me that my mom dsont know that much about eating disorders but yet she says she knows how bad these thionhd can get. likes he can talk so much about me needing help and this and that and yet she hasnt veen taken the tiem to udnerstand what it is im goi g throug. but i shoudlnt epect her to i dont evn knkw what is happneing. cons of relasping is more time wwasting life farther form my hoal. what is my goal all i can think abou t is working on my body bye cercising and eating healthy after treatment. iu dont underdstand why people dopnt think this is a huge thing for me. it makes it so i cant wear what. im so tired of caring. i want to get out of my head. but reality is i am katie and i have to deal wiht whats going on it dosnt do any good whining about it. another con is that my family would be disapinted. im kinda scared i ahev cancer ir im going ot die and jus stop breatinh. its probaly jsut anxiety . nbut i think about the drugs ive done and all that ive smoked and when ive starved and i wonder if im jsut shutting gdown. but i guess were all shutting down. but you cant tell kids these tihngs they dont care and they wouldnt undertsnad. i guess im jsut freaking out at my very eistence. im also very thankful to ebe alive. the fact were all ehsiting rn is crazy i think everything happens for a reason and theres a beautiful lessona nd “work of art called love” desinged by the creator. i ksut dpnt think itds what people think its actaully is. julian is just dsigusing why was i ever ino him. but i cant stop 16 year old me by being into him. but he really wasa dick adn oi dont think hes aw the value in me. my idea of him thinking that was because hesa  lot uglier than me or the line in fredys song where he says “ why would a girl like you fall for a guy like me” and he saud thatr eminded him of us i thought that was so sweet. MO that dosnt mean he values me. why was i so okay with accepting bullshit.a nd nathan. i really liked nathan we were bestfriends. but i got really cazy jealous. i was supposed to eat2 and ahalf hours ago and im not rally hungry. hence my hunger ques are off. i lost 4 lbs over the weekedn and im on weight restoration i was given till friday before i have tonadd even more additions because im not supposed to be lsoing weight. but i dint feel sad baout it. i felt eciteed i guess my bodys ina  place where it can lsoe weight easily. i feel like i should take advantage of it. is this litterally the eating disorder tuyping as we speak am i poseed. it is katie stowers. i guess thats what an eating idorder does. i think i ought to steer clear of caffense and weed. make things a little less harde.r and truly i shuld try to quit nicatine. ots just so nice to do but i think i ought to just not do it. i think idts a porblem because i can already mpciture me going outside after break and smoking. “evntually ill quit shes aid” when i quoted julien baker in her song ahppy to be hee to esther it says “ i miss you the way that i miss nicatine” she waled away after. felt a little judged honeslt and i dont think it was cuz of me but i am better than to smoke nicatine. i think im gonna not do it tomorow. adn if i succeed well see about friday. but it is a hbit i shoudl break. but anyways theres a lot to worry about and be ecited about to and im having a hard time manging it all. and i opuld go on times ten of whats been happneing in my brain ina  therap y session but it dosnt happne.

[asterythm]

Born of the Same Impulse

Or; The Abolition of Man(a)

Pairing: Romantic LAMP Prompt: Written for Secret Sanders 2018 with the prompt “magic AUs (especially if someone doesn’t know about the others)” Word Count: 12.8k (oops.) Warnings: Very occasional caps lock, panic, negative thinking, food mention. (But don’t worry, the end is fluffy!!)

General Summary: When an experiment goes wrong, the wizard-slash-scientist Logan finds himself stranded in an alternate, magic-less dimension -- but the more he explores, the less anxious he is to find his way back home again.

A/N: @soft-transboy​ Surpriiise!! It’s me -- @secretsanders herself :D Hoo boy. I had so much fun writing this one, but... let's just say that I definitely bit off wayyyyy more than I could chew with this story (as you might be able to tell from the word count, which is well into the double digits). In fact, I spent so long planning this thing that I ended up being left with under a week to write it all. Meaning I finished this about ten minutes ago, and it’s completely unedited. Oops.  That said, I'm still super proud of how it came out, for the most part. Hopefully, you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

AO3

xxx 

“The serious magical endeavour and the serious scientific endeavour are twins: one was sickly and died, the other strong and throve. But they were twins. They were born of the same impulse.” — C. S. Lewis, The Abolition of Man

xxx

Logan Sanders does not believe in magic.

This perhaps will seem to most people like an illogical sort of statement, once they’ve taken into consideration the fact that Logan Sanders is a wizard.

Illogical or not, Logan’s mind is made up. Unlike Most People, Logan never has believed in magic. And he never will, either. It’s one of those beliefs that transcend tenses, you see — does not, did not, will not. Past, present, or future, the fact remains that magic is impractical at best.

Magic is real, of course. Logan can hardly deny the presence of magic in his everyday life, seeing as it’s damn near impossible to do anything without it, in this day and age. He’s not saying that magic doesn’t exist. Logan only means that, the way he sees it, magic on its own is completely and utterly useless. In fact, he’s quite certain that he’d be perfectly capable of surviving without relying on any magic at all, given the opportunity.

Life would be so much easier if more people just believed in science.

This is the second of many (many, many, many) seemingly illogical statements — at least, to Most People. Science? Most People scoff. Impossible! A fully automatic life reliant on science is a nice thought, but that’s all it will ever be — a nice thought. Science simply isn’t capable enough to accomplish all that magic does. Whoever this Logan fellow is, he ought to get his head out of the clouds and do some actual thinking. Blah, blah, blah. On and on and on.

Logan, of course, hates hearing Most People saying these things, but frankly he’s come to expect responses like that. He hears the same kind of thing almost every day, after all. It’s quite normal for Most People to doubt that science could ever be useful. And why even bother, really? Magic is perfectly fine as is.

But of course, the first thing you will notice about Logan Sanders is that he is most certainly not Most People.

xxx

Weekends, reflects Logan in between sips of hot tea, are the only part of the week ever worth paying any attention to.

For Logan, Saturdays and Sundays are the busiest days of the week — but they’re also far and away the best. Because rather than spending his hours working a boring day job, he’s hard at work inventing things that he’s passionate about. On weekends, Logan is free to play around with the concept of using science to enhance day-to-day magic. (Or perhaps the magic is enhancing the science? One or the other. Logan isn’t completely sure.) It’s been his favourite hobby for years and years, creating these little devices that make simple daily tasks even simpler by relying on science, rather than on magic.

Take, for example, Logan’s kettle. The one that he’d put away only moments before, after pouring himself a cup of tea. On the outside, it appears to be quite unremarkable. But Logan can assure you that this kettle is anything but. It’s a one-of-a-kind design that Logan invented himself, many moons ago, and it is easily the most efficient kettle that he’s ever known.

Boiling water, as you surely already know, is a tedious and boring task that requires one to channel their mana into heat-energy, focus that heat-energy into a stream, and then direct that stream continuously towards the water until it finally begins to boil. It’s a time-consuming task that Logan’s tight schedule simply cannot afford.

Logan’s innovative kettle combines magic with science in order to significantly cut down the amount of time and energy one needs to boil water. There’s a metal coil inside of it that allows the kettle to heat up water almost all by itself, by converting electric energy into heat energy — meaning that Logan only needs to fire off a quick spark, and his kettle takes care of the rest.

Despite the simplicity of the design, it has always been one of Logan’s favourite pieces of work, if only because of how often he uses it. On the other hand, he’s got plenty of favourites to choose from. Logan’s cozy little apartment is nearly covered with his own gizmos and trinkets, some fully functional, some half-finished with pieces spilling out the sides, some completely abandoned. He doesn’t consider those latter ones “failures”, though. Logan prefers to call them “learning experiences”.

And he does learn. Logan enjoys his work, regardless of whether or not his creations work out the way he plans, because every experiment teaches him something new. Science is so (woefully) underexplored that Logan finds himself discovering new and exciting concepts left, right and centre. Indeed, it's not at all an uncommon occurrence for him to find something that he's never read of or even heard of before. The sense of accomplishment he gets from these not-so-rare occasions is just about enough to make up for the inconveniences of his lifestyle.

The keywords in that sentence being "just about".

Recently, he's been finding aforementioned inconveniences to be growing more and more, well, inconvenient. The impermanence of his living situation, for example. (Just thinking about this subject makes Logan's chest tighten involuntarily. Though he isn't all the way finished yet, he sets his teacup down.) Logan hasn't been able to hold onto a home for more than a matter of months ever since he first picked up this hobby of his.

For some completely unfathomable reason, the idea of having a mad scientist living in their building is apparently one that most landlords consider to be somewhat unsettling.

There are other difficulties, too, that prevent him from finding a permanent place to call home: noise complaints from neighbours, property damage from explosions and acid burns, that one time that he accidentally gave sentience to a small tin-can-and-soy-sauce-packet robot, leading to the creation of an army of small but hostile rodents. The usual.

(Now that Logan thinks about it, he's starting to see where the whole "unsettling" thing might come from.)

The first one or two or twelve times he was kicked out, Logan didn't mind terribly. Change doesn't bother him too much. But as his collection of knick-knacks and doo-dads continued to grow, it began to become a real nuisance to have to pack everything up and relocate so often.

Not to mention, the constant moving means that Logan has never had the time to make any sort of lasting social connections, either. That's not a huge issue, though, since Logan isn't exactly the most social of people anyway. Even when he was younger and by extension wasn't constantly being forced to move around, Logan had never had much luck with friendship. So although his life is a lonely one, Logan's grown quite accustomed to having things be this way. He doesn't mind. Not as much as he used to, at least.

Logan picks his teacup back up again. He swishes the cup around a few times, watching the half-disintegrated leaves swish with it. After a moment, the leaves settle down into a shape that almost resembles a dragon if Logan squints and turns his head a certain way. He takes a sip, notes with displeasure that the liquid inside has grown unpleasantly cold, but finishes it anyway. After his cup is empty, Logan takes a moment to gaze out the window and appreciate how nice of a day it is; both suns are happily shining, and there’s hardly a cloud in the sky. The perfect weather for a weekend, even if he is going to spend the whole day cooped up in his apartment.

Stretching, Logan rises from the comfortable armchair on which he had been sitting and crosses the room to where his latest invention awaits him. Today is going to be a good day, he thinks, allowing a rare smile to slip out as he approaches. He's been working hard on this one, and he thinks now that it may be finished at last; his tests last week, he had been amazed to find, had all gone off without a hitch.

That is, all but one. But that's only because he has yet to run the final test. Logan thought he would save that one for today, just to be on the safe side. But he’s got high hopes for the outcome of this final test. A good day, indeed.

In fact, the best, worst day of Logan's life has already begun — and it's all thanks to the pair of two little round creations sitting right in front of him.

xxx

THREE MONTHS AGO

"Okay, but… I still don't get it," grunts the landlord. "What are they supposed to do?"

Logan smiles wryly. "Permanently revolutionise the way that people get from place to place, that's what."

"Looks pretty typical for something that's supposed to be so 'revolutionary'. Honestly, it kind of looks like a regular TP-circle. Except, uh, portable."

"Yes? Well, I'm glad to hear that, since that's exactly what it is. A portable teleportation-circle. I've very nearly completed the design, and I can promise you that as soon as I've added the final touches, this is going to completely change life as we know it. Then I'll have more than enough money to pay rent. Just you wait, sir." The other man still doesn't look convinced. Logan is getting desperate — he doesn't know where else he can find a home if this doesn't work out. "At least allow me to explain to you how it works before you turn me away."

After a moment, the gruff older man relents. "Alright, fine," he sighs. "How does your portable TP-circle work?"

"Well, the general concept is more or less the same as a regular TP-circle. You step in, it collects a bit of your mana and converts it into a path between the circle you're standing in and whichever circle you want to TP to. The difference is that my design is, well, portable. I mean, TP-circle stations are all well and good, but sometimes they're just located in such inconvenient places. Add that to the fact that there's always such long line-ups for those stations, and... well, suffice it to say, I'm surprised that they've been in use for this long.

"With my portable TP-circles, you can go wherever you want, whenever you want, and you don't have to deal with those annoying line-ups anymore. You can just fold one of these up and use a simple object-TP to send it wherever you want. Anyone can do this. Object-TPs are one of the first spells they teach in school. So, portable TP-circles will make transportation easier and more accessible for everyone. Like I said before, I've already almost perfected the design. I only need to iron out a couple of kinks, then figure out how to make it more lightweight. Once I’ve done that, it’ll be completely ready. Ready for use, and ready to change the world, by extension. I only need a few months, half a year at most. I promise." He’s nearly begging by the time he finishes talking. This location is his last chance, after all. Logan holds his breath, watching the landlord's face change as he weighs Logan's words.

And then, after what feels like an eternity of waiting, Logan finally hears the words he's been hoping for.

"Okay. Four months. That's all you get. You'd better have your portable thingamajig finished by then. Otherwise, you're outta here. You hear me? Out. Of. Here. Don't let me down."

Logan sighs, a wave of relief washing over him. Four months... a quarter of a year. That's going to be tight, but Logan's sure that he'll be able to manage that deadline if he works hard enough.

If there's one thing that Logan has never had a problem with, it's working hard.

xxx

And work hard, he did. For three months straight, Logan’s devoted every second of his free time to perfecting his design. He’s long since lost count of how many tests he’s run, how many times he’s taken his invention apart and put it back together in a completely different way, how many times he’s had to entirely scrap an idea or component… yes, the journey has been anything but smooth. And yet, looking at his finished creation now, Logan realises that every single second spent has been completely worth it.

Technically, Logan shouldn’t be using the word “finished”, since his invention has yet passed its final and most important test. But last week’s testing was the farthest that any of his prototypes had ever come, so Logan can’t help but hope that today, it’ll go just one step farther.

Well. There’s only one way to find out, now isn’t there?

Logan quickly pulls his trusty notebook and pen out of the ether, where he keeps his most important items. He flips the book open to a fresh new page. At the top, he writes the date, then a title: TEST RUN # —

He hesitates.

TEST RUN #WHO EVEN KNOWS ANYMORE, HONESTLY.

There, perfect.

And so he begins. The first twenty or so tests, he completes without even thinking. Logan has done those ones so many times, to say that he could complete them in his sleep would be an under-exaggeration. He tests the prototype’s durability, folding ability, resistance to wind and cold and heat and water. Of course, he doesn’t run into any problems there.

Next comes the slightly more interesting tests. Logan places one of the two circles onto his apartment floor, then folds the second one up so that it’s smaller and therefore easier to transport. With a snap of his fingers, he sends it off to the location that he’s been using for testing: a vast and empty flower field that, as far as Logan knows, no one besides him has set foot in for a couple of years at least.

Next, Logan picks up a small six-sided dice and places it gently onto the circle that he’d laid on the table. He’s barely let go of the dice and pulled his hand back when a familiar flash of bright blue light fills the room. By the time the light is gone, the dice is, too.

Logan grabs a looking-glass off his bookshelf, the one that he’s enchanted to always show the flower field. It only takes him a second to spot his circle lying surrounded by tall blades of grass, and then only a second more to find the dice sitting right there in the center of the circle. Looks like the dice test was successful. Logan isn’t surprised. The dice test is another easy one.

His next few tests are all more or less the same as the dice test. The only difference is that he’s no longer transporting dice; for each test, Logan uses a slightly more difficult object. First, he picks up a —

Hold on.

If Logan were writing this story, he would surely go into incredible detail about each and every test, listing off every single object he tries, telling you which tests have stood in his way in the past and explaining what he did to get around them.

Luckily for you, dear reader, Logan is not writing this story. He's only living it.

Suffice it to say, his portable-teleportation-circles pass each and every test with flying colours, just like they did last week. With every test passed, Logan grows more and more excited. He had already known when he began test run number who-even-knows-anymore-honestly that it was going to be an overwhelming success, but of course there’s such a difference between knowing something is going to happen versus seeing it happen with your own two eyes. Last week felt like a fluke, you see. This week is proof that it was not.

xxx

By the time Logan completes his second-to-last test, he is so giddy with excitement and passion, he can hardly think straight (although to be fair, “straight” never really has been a strength of his). A rush of adrenaline courses through the young inventor as he jots down two familiar words: Trial successful.

And then suddenly, the time has come. “This is it. I am... about to perform the final test,” Logan says to himself, scarce able to believe that he’s actually made it until he says the words out loud. They come out no louder than an awed whisper.

He tucks his notebook and pen back into the ether, smoothes down the wrinkles on his button-up shirt, adjusts his necktie, combs through his hair with his fingers. Not because he thinks someone is watching him; it’s just that Logan can’t help but feel that he should look his best for a moment like this. It’s, he thinks, a moment deserving of trumpet fanfare, of multi-coloured confetti, of a loud and dramatic drumroll.

Alas, Logan has none of these. He’ll have to settle for the loud drumbeat of his heart thumping in his chest, instead.

Logan stares at the devices sitting in front of him. He gets to his feet. Dusts himself off. Starts to back away. As he walks backwards, something swells inside of him; something big and bright and demanding. Pride? Hope? Fear? Perhaps a mixture of the three? Whatever it is, it grows and grows until it threatens to engulf the normally-so-unemotional young man. It’s now or never, Logan suddenly realises. He’s got to move before this strange Feeling-Thing immobilises him.

So move, he does. Logan closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and then before he knows it he’s running forward, forward, forward and onward as fast as his legs can go.

Because it’s him, of course; Logan is the final test. Transporting around little objects is all well and good, but the purpose of his invention has always been to transport people, after all.

The tip of Logan’s toe lands in the transportation circle, the rest of him following close behind. As soon as he’s landed, a familiar tingling begins to spread through him; the circle is harnessing his mana and converting it into a teleportation path, exactly as it’s meant to do. For precisely two instants, Logan’s body is suspended in a strange little pocket between time and space. He’s surrounded on all sides by pure light, bright enough to blind even with his eyes closed.

Then, just like that, it’s over. Logan touches down on solid ground, somehow feeling at once like he’s drifted down gently as a feather and like his entire body has been slammed into the ground hard enough to rattle the teeth in his skull. Slowly, warily, Logan opens his eyes to see that… something’s different.

No, scratch that. Everything’s different.

Logan turns around cautiously. The new location he’s found himself in is dimly lit, but it doesn’t take too long for his eyes to adjust.

He takes in old and cracked wooden planks, stains marking leaky spots on the ceiling, and spiderwebs strewn all over the place. He’s standing in what appears to be the attic of an abandoned warehouse of sorts. Maybe not a warehouse — maybe a workshop, or an old storage unit. No matter. Whatever this place is, it’s very clearly not the empty flower field that Logan had been expecting to open his eyes in.

As disappointment shoots through him like an arrow to the heart, Logan realises that he can literally feel his hopes being ground to dust. How curious. It’s not a very pleasant sensation, to say the least. The young scientist had been trying his best not to let his hopes run away from him too much, but after all the success of the previous tests, you can hardly blame him for getting excited, now can you?

Logan sighs heavily. I suppose I have some work to do. He’s not looking forward to resigning himself to yet another month of tinkering and testing, especially now that he’s tasted success. Who knows how long it’ll take to identify and fix whatever problem caused him to end up here?

Speaking of, where is “here”, anyway? Logan, quite frankly, hasn’t the foggiest idea where he is. He probably should figure that out, before he begins worrying about repairs and re-runs. Stretching, Logan looks around for the exit.

Aha! There’s a staircase. Following these stairs down onto the next floor, Logan comes across a door, standing the slightest bit ajar. A warm glow surrounds the doorway; sunlight from the outside world. He smiles triumphantly, allowing himself a little bit of celebration for this small victory (he needs the validation to keep going, after the crushing failure — er — learning experience he’s just suffered).

After the darkness of the warehouse-slash-workshop-slash-storage unit, the sunlight’s sudden harshness startles Logan a little bit when he opens the door. That’s odd, he thinks. I could swear that the suns weren’t nearly that bright a moment ago. He’s still a little lightheaded from the brightness of the transportation spell, so suffice it to say, the abnormally bright sunlight isn’t doing him any favours. Logan blinks as he steps out the door into a forest thick with trees and shrubs. “You’d think that the foliage would block out the suns a little, now wouldn’t you,” he deadpans under his breath. Logan rubs his eyes. Then he rubs them again.

Goodness gracious, why is it so bright? Logan fights back an angry growl as the white spots in his field of vision persist, refusing to diminish even the slightest amount. Today was supposed to be a good day! Channeling his frustration towards the most immediate cause, Logan glares up through the leaves, at the sun —

Hold on.

The sun, singular?

That can’t be right. What happened to the other one? Logan looks away, then looks back, as if he might have somehow missed the presence of a massive star in the sky. Nothing. He stumbles around, straining to see if it’s somehow hidden behind one of the larger leaves. But no — there’s still nothing.

Suddenly, it looks like Logan might have a bigger problem on his hands than simply needing to do some minor repairs.

xxx

There’s a sort of throbbing pain coming somewhere from Logan’s left elbow.

He’s only vaguely aware of this, but vague is better than none-at-all, so he focuses in on that pain to try and ground himself. It works; after a moment, the fractured world begins coming back into focus.

Logan tries to inspect the wound, only to realise that he can’t turn his head, since it’s currently locked tight in an iron grip between his hands. His legs are curled up beneath him, too. He doesn’t remember assuming this bizarre fetal position. In fact, there’s a lot he doesn’t remember. How he got here, for example. From the darkness surrounding him and the hard wooden floor beneath him, Logan guesses that he’s somehow ended up back in the attic of the warehouse. His mind is still too scattered to grasp anything beyond that. But it’s a start.

Stiffly, Logan forces his fingers to relax and, stretching his neck, begins to massage the life back into them. How long did I spend, just… sitting there, waiting for nothing? he wonders, marvelling at how tense his arms still are. As he starts doing the same for his cramped legs, bits and pieces of memories start breaking away and swimming to the surface of his consciousness at last.

He remembers staring. He’d always been taught not to stare directly at the suns as a child; the ultraviolet light might burn his retinas, causing permanent damage or even blindness. But frankly, solar retinopathy had been the last of his concerns once he’d realised that there was an entire star missing from the great blue sky above.

He remembers shouting. Who can blame him for that, really? Something about knowing that you are completely lost and alone… it triggers something primal within the soul, awakening a beast that can only be pacified with a roar. “Lost? Of course not. I’m right here,” Logan wants to argue with himself, but he can’t. He doesn’t have any idea where ‘here’ is, you see.

He remembers sprinting. Illogical, perhaps, to think that by putting distance between himself and the ugly truth, he can make it go away. But we as humans do tend to fear that which we don’t understand, and to run from that which we fear. Logan had always considered himself fearless, and therefore powerful. To have that power taken away? That’s one more thing to run from.

He remembers stumbling. He took the stairs two at a time as he went, trying to go ever faster. At one point, when he wasn’t paying attention, he missed a step and went flailing downwards, landing hard on… his left elbow. The sudden fall didn’t bother him too much, though. In fact, it was almost reassuring, in a twisted way, to have his body’s state match his mind’s.

He remembers squeezing, squeezing his eyes shut as tightly as he could, telling himself again and again that he must be dreaming. Only dreaming. It’s all just a dream, and when he opens his eyes back up again he’ll be resting, safe and sound, in his cozy little apartment with his kettle and his teacup and his comfortable armchair and —

And…

He’s not dreaming, of course. This whole — what even is it that Logan’s gotten himself into, here? Is he in an entirely different world? A different dimension, even? — whatever it is, it’s here to stay. The realisation almost makes Logan want to retreat right back into fetal position.

But… no. No, no, no. Logan catches himself before he can slip back into the apathetic zone. He mustn’t panic; not a second time, at least. Hold it together, Logan tells himself. In through the nose. Hold. Out through the mouth.

What he wouldn’t give for a calming cup of tea right about now.

The deep breathing does the trick well enough, though; Logan’s head is now much clearer than it had been only moments before. He’s still afraid, of course (he’s just been dumped out all alone into an unfamiliar land; who wouldn’t be?), but for the most part, his logic and reason have returned; thank goodness for that.

There’s a lot about his current situation that Logan cannot control. Not least of all, the fact that his unsuccessful experiment has stranded him in what very well might be an alternate dimension. He can’t control what’s happened to him, or what will happen to him next, for that matter. All that Logan can control is how he reacts.

It’s not about what’s happened. It’s about what he’s going to do about it.

“Giving up” is a completely foreign concept to Logan. He is a scientist, for goodness’ sakes! Not only is he used to things not going exactly the way he plans them to, his hobby hinges entirely on staying determined and finding solutions. Logan does not simply “give up”. And he’s certainly not planning on starting now.

Instead, he approaches the problem like he’s analyzing the results of an experiment gone off the tracks and trying to figure out what went wrong. Step one: observe and gather data. He’ll only be able to figure out the “what comes next” after he’s got all the pieces of the puzzle.

The second time that Logan walks out of the empty warehouse, the immediate glare of the sunlight doesn’t affect him quite as much — possibly because this time, he’s expecting it. Now, this may be silly, but the fact that he copes with the sun so easily this time around gives him a bit of a confidence boost; it’s almost like he’s just managed to defeat an enemy that, the first time around, he couldn’t even bring himself to face. This might not be so bad after all, Logan allows, striding out the door with a newfound sureness in his stride.

And his good mood only gets better as he continues to explore the forest surrounding him, distancing himself with every step from the abandoned warehouse where he had shed his insecurities. He’s pleasantly surprised to find that, besides the singular sun (which he can almost forget about, provided he doesn’t look up), the forest appears to be… exceedingly normal. It’s one that he wouldn’t even take a second look at, back in his origin dimension.

(Goodness, Logan reflects absently, the phrase “origin dimension” sounds so strange, doesn’t it?)

But of course, the flora and fauna in this forest aren’t exactly the same. There’s just enough variation between the two dimensions to fascinate Logan without frightening him, in fact.

That fascination, as it turns out, leads perfectly into step two: record observations, preferably on paper, for reference. Logan quickly conjures back up his notebook and pen to scribble down notes and make rough sketches of the forest’s almost-but-not-entirely-familiar specimens.

The conjuring takes a little more effort than usual, making Logan realise that his mana supply is probably getting dangerously low. Of course — he must have used up quite a lot of it earlier, when he was casting all of those teleportation spells. I’ll have to be a bit more conservative with my mana, Logan decides, until I can find a place to sleep and replenish, that is. The prospect scares him a little. He doesn’t like the fact that people depend on magic so much, but disliking it doesn’t make it any less true, and he’s certainly not exempt from that dependance. What will he do if he runs out?

Just then, out of the corner of his eye, Logan’s attention is drawn a beautiful species of butterfly landing on an equally beautiful flower. Uncapping his pen, Logan smiles, grateful for the distraction. Mana can wait, can’t it? For now, he’s merely a scientist investigating an alien world — nothing more, nothing less.

xxx

He’s not sure how long he spends wandering through the forest, jotting down notes and observations, before his feet bring to a well-beaten path. This comes as quite a surprise to Logan, who had somehow been under the impression that he’s alone in the forest. The idea of finding another civilization both excites and unnerves him.

To journey or not to journey? Logan is conflicted on what he should do next. On one hand, if he doesn’t follow the path, he just knows that this decision will come back to haunt him. It’ll simply eat him up inside, the not knowing.

On the other hand… he has no idea what to expect, following this path. Where, or who, will the earth lead him to? How long will he spend walking? Does the path even end, or is this world nothing more than one big forest with a path circling all the way around? Does he want it to end? A path that leads to nowhere is better than a path that leads to danger, but in an unfamiliar land such as this one, the latter option seems a lot more likely.

Yes, it’s clear that the cons far outweigh the pros. Safety ought to be his priority here. The correct course of action, therefore, is to ignore the path and turn back to the forest. Just… just walk away. Walk... away.

Logan tucks his notebook into his back pocket and walks towards the path, cursing his incurable curiosity every step of the way.

xxx

Seconds stretch into minutes, then minutes into hours, as Logan follows the mysterious trail. There are times when he feels like he should stop, turn back before it’s too late, before the universe can throw anything else at him. But he’s too damned curious for his own good, and he can’t bring himself to.

Luckily for Logan, the universe seems to have had its fill of tormenting him today. The path does have an end, one that he reaches without encountering any hostile entities, and what he finds at the end is more than enough to make up for the hours of walking and waiting and worrying.

It’s a city. A city with people walking casually around, completely normal people just like Logan himself, which is exciting enough on its own — but what makes this discovery go from good to great is the city itself.

Simply put, the city looks like it’s been pulled straight out of one of Logan’s favourite science fantasy novels. He sees people riding around in elegant and futuristic vehicles with sleek metal bodies and four perfectly round, perfectly uniform wheels. He sees tall, towering buildings with bright yellow or white lights flickering in their windows rather than the dim, disappointing blue glow that he’s accustomed to. And everywhere he looks, he sees people tap-tap-tapping away on these tiny little handheld devices.

A gaggle of people pushes past him, every one of them fixated on their screens. When he catches a glimpse of what’s on these screens, he doesn’t blame them for being so tuned out to the rest of the world; if he had one, he’d be fixated, too.

On every screen is something different: digital calendars and checklists, looping pictures, games, perfectly uniform writing. Some people even have their devices held up to their ear and are talking into them, showing Logan that they’re able to pick up and store audio.

What kind of world must this be, for every single person to be able to own a piece of technology like this and not think twice about it?

The answer to his own question comes to him almost immediately. “A world where science is king, and magic comes second,” Logan realises out loud.

He knew it. He knew it! Science isn’t useless — it’s not, it’s not, it’s not! And it’s not hopeless to try and pursue a future of science. The proof that it’s possible is right here, in front of him!

His excitement fuels him forwards and into the city, where he begins flitting from building to building in a manner much like the butterfly he’d been sketching earlier; mostly arbitrary, based only on whichever locations catch his fancy. This results in him zig-zagging erratically from place to place, as there’s scarcely a single storefront or skyscraper that doesn’t catch his fancy. Everywhere he looks, he sees unthinkably advanced innovations being used in perfectly natural, casual fashions. Logan’s dreamed of places like this, but never imagined actually getting to see one someday!

What’s more — in all his exploring, he doesn’t once see anyone using magic. The life of these people is completely effortless. Completely automatic.

It’s the very life he’s been dreaming of for over twenty years now.

xxx

As the sun begins to go down, so too does Logan’s stamina. Panic had brought him out of the warehouse, concern had fueled him through the forest, curiosity had led him down the path, and finally intrigue had pulled him through the city — but though the intrigue is still fresh, the burst of energy he’d gained is wearing off, and now Logan finds himself at the unhappy tail end of an exhausting day.

All those emotions!  Goodness, Logan is in no way used to dealing with so many conflicting emotions in one day (indeed, he is in no way used to dealing with emotions, period). A long, long day of feeling has taken its toll on the young man.

He finds a city bench, which he trudges over to and parks himself down upon. Then, his thoughts finally settling down, Logan reflects and starts to develop some hypotheses on his current situation.

First of all, what went wrong with his invention? That seems as good a place to start as any. And he thinks that he might already have a vague idea:

As a general rule of thumb, small, inanimate objects are the easiest to transport from place to place; they’re much less demanding. Logan had tested large objects and they had gone through just fine. He’d tested small plants, with similar results. But his mistake was assuming that this was sufficient proof that his design was advanced enough to handle something as large and… well, “animate” as a human being. The fact is that his devices, despite how long he’d been working on them, were still primitive designs. Too primitive to safely teleport humans, at least. Add that to the fact that he must have already been running low on mana when he stepped in, and it’s not hard to see what went wrong. The teleportation pat created by the circles must have become unstable and broken somewhere between point A and point B, dumping Logan out and into this brave new world of his.

As to what this ‘brave new world’ actually is… now, that’s a little trickier. His best guess is that he’s ended up in some kind of sister dimension to his own. Centuries ago, Logan recalls learning, people had much more faith in the capabilities of science. Nowadays, everyone seems to assume that science was a much more ancient concept than magic, and it was then replaced when intellectuals started “proving” that magic was more reliable — but that’s not true in the slightest. In fact, the two of them started developing around the same time. One might say they were born of the same impulse, as it were: to control and shape the world to fit one’s own desires. That was what introduced science and magic into the world.

During that time, science was at its peak, whereas magic had only just begun to peek out. Over the years, the two battled for dominance. And in the end, magic came out on top and science unfortunately faded into obscurity.

Or at least, that’s what happened to Logan’s dimension. What if this world, then, had the same history up until that point, and then the two timelines… fractured? Magic was considered a foolish endeavour and was cast aside, while science stepped into the spotlight and thrived there.

So, then, it’s not only that people abstain from using magic because science is enough to sustain them. Rather, magic may have in fact been completely erased. But despite that… at its core, this dimension is remarkably similar to his own.

My own. It doesn’t feel exactly right, referring to the magical world as if it belongs to him. Logan suddenly realises that not once since getting here has he thought of that other dimension, or the things in it, as “home”.

A home ought to be a place where he feels comfortable, oughtn’t it? A place that he shares an intimate connection with. By that criteria, then, the ever-changing apartments he’s always cycling through are not his home. The dimension where everyone accepts magic and disregards science is not his home. Even his inventions — they’ve always been an attempt to make up for what he feels he lacks, and therefore artificially construct a home where there is none.

Logan gets back to his feet, leaving the bench behind, and looks around at the buildings surrounding him. At the sun still steadily dipping its way below the horizon, painting the heavens in all sorts of colour. The sight of it all fills him with a sort of serenity that he’s never known before.

Never once has Logan felt a sense of belonging, in the other dimension. Whereas here…

xxx

For some reason, much later, Logan is still walking. He is tired, yes, but his legs seem to have a mind of their own, growing restless whenever he sits still for too long. It’s as if they refuse to relax until he’s walked the length of this city, seen all that it has to offer him. So while the sky goes dark and more and more of those peculiar yellow lights appear in the windows, Logan keeps on keeping on.

Logan doesn’t know what he’s looking for until he’s already found it.

A small theatre, not at all unlike one Logan would expect to see near his old apartment(s), but for the glowing sign on the front.

EVEREST ETHEREUM, ENCHANTER EXTRAORDINAIRE, its large, bold letters loudly proclaim. Directly underneath, in text that’s a much smaller size: Today only — mind-muddling magical marvels for guys, gals, and non-binary pals of all ages!

A little tacky, perhaps, and whoever came up with the name and slogan could definitely stand to ease up on the alliteration, but the message grabs Logan’s attention all the same.

A magician, here! And one powerful enough to call themselves an enchanter to boot. Could Logan have been too quick in assuming that magic doesn’t play a role in this dimension? Perhaps it still exists, to a smaller degree. Perhaps only a select few people have magical capabilities. Perhaps Logan is jumping to conclusions again and really ought to stop doing that.

No, that last one isn’t much of a “perhaps”.

Rather than drive himself crazy with what-ifs, Logan decides to go inside and see this enchanter’s performance for himself. It’s not like he’s got anything better to do.

The inside of the theatre is… underwhelming. That’s not to say the few posters and decorations hung up aren’t nice ones — they’re just not very impressive, that’s all. There’s a very conspicuous lack of the colourful banners and red-carpetry that he’d been expecting. The only other person in the room sits behind a simple folding table, head resting on the surface of said table and the rest of his body completely swallowed up by a baggy black-and-purple hoodie. All the audience members must already be in the theatre. Still, Logan is a little put out by how empty the room is. Surely, someone as powerful as an enchanter deserves a much more handsome welcome than this.

The door swings shut behind him with a loud beep. Logan gives a start and scrambles further into the theatre. As he does, the hooded figure resting on the table looks up for the first time, revealing a young man’s tired-looking face.

Logan’s breath catches in his throat. Speaking of handsome.

The other man blinks blearily a few times before he notices Logan. His eyes (which are smudged with some kind of dark substance — at least, Logan hopes that it’s artificial and not natural bags from sleep deprivation) immediately widen as he scrambles to sit up straight, jostling a plate of cookies resting on the table. The shadows cast by the man’s large hood aren’t quite enough to hide a deep flush colouring his cheeks; Logan guesses that he must be embarrassed at having been caught asleep on the job. “Don’t worry.” Logan quickly tries to reassure the man, seeing as he already appears to have enough stress as is. “I won’t tell your boss.”

The man’s hard, jagged fear visibly softens. “I — Um — thanks.” His voice is gravelly, but not unpleasantly so. Logan thinks the quiet scratchiness is in fact strangely soothing. “I swear that’s not, like, an everyday thing, I’m just…”

Logan quirks a brow, amused. The man checks himself.

“I’m just going to stop talking now. Thanks. Sorry.” Rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck, the man’s eyes dart away. “You’re here to see the show, right?”

Logan nods.

“Great. Tickets are twenty dollars.”

That makes Logan hesitate. “Twenty...?” What does dollars mean? It’s an unfamiliar word to Logan, who’s used to using precious stones or mana to make payments. Does the man perhaps mean sand dollars?

Then Logan notices the metal box that the man is pointing to. It’s filled with colourful pieces of paper and perfectly round metal pieces. Those must be dollars, then. Do they use paper and metal disks as payment here? That’s new.

The man in the hoodie apparently misinterprets Logan’s hesitation. “It’s actually not that expensive,” he reassures Logan. “Like, if you’ve ever tried to get tickets to, say, a Broadway show… well, heh. Let’s just say, twenty dollars is peanuts. Besides, these guys are really good magicians. You’ll never be the same once you’ve watched them perform.” He pauses. “And I’m not just saying that ‘cause they’re my boyfriends.”

If Logan wasn’t already convinced before, he certainly is now. Only problem is, he doesn’t have any dollars.

Then again…

Logan eyes the money box carefully. Many of the pieces of colourful paper are printed with a detailed design and a big number 20. That’s most likely worth twenty dollars, then. So he only needs one of those papers to get a ticket, right?

Or, alternatively, something that looks like one of those papers.

“Pardon me, but would you mind terribly if I...” As casually as he can, Logan reaches into the box and plucks out a paper.

“Hey,” protests the man, leaning forward. “What are you —”

“I promise you, I am not going to steal your dollars. I would merely like to take a good look at this for a moment, that’s all.” He turns it over in his hands, inspecting the detailed design on the front and the back, feeling its weight, even giving it a subtle sniff to confirm that it doesn’t smell of anything. He debates licking it, but something tells him that would be a bad idea.

Then he snaps his fingers, and where there was one piece of paper, there now lies two.

Creating a convincing Duplicate of an item is a difficult task in the magical world, but that’s only because people’s eyes are trained to spot little tells such as slight distortions when held up to the light, or corners and edges that are ever-so-slightly darker or lighter than the original object, or details that seem to blur when you look directly at them.

But people might be less used to spotting Dupes here, since they don’t seem to use magic as often. That’s what Logan is hoping for, at least. He’s just used up the last of his mana creating that Dupe, so it had better work.

Only one way to find out. Feigning calm, Logan hands both of the dollars back to the man with the hoodie.

Their hands briefly touch as he does so; the other man’s fingers are surprisingly soft, especially compared to Logan’s own calloused ones. As you might imagine, this doesn’t help his nerves any.

Then Logan steps back, feeling his heart rate speeding up (for more reasons than one). The man’s mouth has fallen open, and he seems dumbfounded… but he accepts the papers without question. Phew. Logan lets out a sigh of relief and feels himself relax. He’s safe. Nothing to fear.

“That’s a nifty little trick you’ve got there,” a new voice quite suddenly speaks directly into his ear, startling Logan so badly that he lets out a small scream and crashes directly into the folding table, very nearly knocking the dollar-box and plate of cookies over.

With both his tailbone and pride sorely bruised, Logan scrambles to his feet, automatically adjusting his necktie, trying to ignore the burning warmth spreading across his face and neck. So much for ‘nothing to fear’, he thinks, humiliated.

“I’m so sorry!” exclaims the newcomer, who Logan now sees is another young man. His eyes are wide behind the thin frames of his round glasses. “Oh gosh, I didn’t realise I would scare you like that. Did I sneak up on you? Are you hurt? Ah, darn. I should’ve given you some warning, or something, shouldn’t I? Are you okay?”

“I — no — well, yes, but — that is —” Unsure of which question to answer first, Logan fumbles with his words for some time before finally settling on a simple, “I am fine, thank you.”

The newcomer begins to say something else, but he is interrupted before he can get anything out. “Hang on, what do you think you’re doing?” At this, Logan turns to look at the first man, the one selling tickets, worried that he has discovered Logan’s Dupe, but he isn’t looking at Logan. Instead, his finger is pointed accusingly at the newcomer, whose bottom lip is now stuck out in a pout.

“I know, Virgil, I just missed you!” ‘Virgil?’ Ah, that must be the ticketmaster’s name. “Roman and I have been stuck all alone without you for, like, two years already!” Two years? This man has been in isolation for two years? That seems... cruel. “Plus I got hungry and wanted to come grab some cookies.”

“I thought you had cookies backstage, Patton!” the ticketmaster — Virgil — replies, sounding exasperated. (Oh. Backstage. He was exaggerating when he said two years, then, Logan corrects himself.)

Patton shuffles his feet. “Well, yeah, we did. But, uh, we… lost them?” he tries unconvincingly.

“Lost them in your stomach, huh,” deadpans Virgil.

“Hey! No!”

Virgil gives Patton a skeptical stare.

“...Maybe a little. Anyway, the cookies don’t matter!” insists Patton, quickly changing the subject. “Either way, I wanted to come see you again before the show starts. Maybe help you out here, give you less work to do. Um, but that might have backfired, I guess? You know, since I almost scared this poor fellow right out of his pants just now.” He turns to the poor fellow in question, who has been watching this exchange play out, unsure of whether he should be saying anything. “Sorry about that, by the way. I thought that trick you did was really terrific, that’s all, and I guess I got carried away.”

“Not a problem,” Logan replies briskly. “Why don’t we both… forget that whole thing ever happened, please.”

“Aw, but I was going to ask if you could teach me how to do that!” says Patton.

Logan isn’t sure how to answer that. I’m actually a magician from an alternate dimension, and that money is nothing more than an illegal illusion. No, thank you. Besides, from what he’s heard so far, Patton is going to be performing in the show he’s about to see. If that’s the case, shouldn’t he already know how to make a Duplicate? It’s a very simple spell, after all…

Luckily, he’s saved from having to come up with a response when Virgil breaks in once more. “Hey, I hate to cut this whole bonding moment short—”

“I cradled you in my arms,” giggles Patton; Virgil ignores him.

“— but I don’t think you’ve got time to learn an entirely new trick before the show starts. Seriously, you can’t be out here. You’re going onstage in fifteen minutes, tops.”

Patton sighs. “You’re right, you’re right, you’re right you’re right you’re right,” he says, though his voice is barely above a mumble.”

“What was that?” Virgil pointedly cups a hand around his ear.

“You’re right! You always are. Ever the level-headed one, aren’t you?” Patton walks around the table to embrace Virgil affectionately, pulling down the purple-and-black hood to give him a kiss on the cheek. Virgil shrugs out of the hug and shoos Patton away, babbling about showtimes and baked goods and tickets, and all the while trying to hide his wide smile behind dainty hands that aren’t nearly large enough to cover up his joy. Logan pretends not to notice.

“Enjoy the show!” is the last thing that Patton says, grinning with unabashed cheerfulness at Logan and — are his eyes deceiving him, or was that a wink? Before Logan can even process Patton’s words, the charmingly cheerful man has reached around Virgil, snagged a cookie or three, and strolled away. Logan watches him nibble at his newly acquired treat as he disappears through a large door marked BACKSTAGE.

“Don’t worry,” murmurs Logan, fighting a smile of his own. “I have no doubt that I will.”

xxx

As he watches the enchanter sweep grandly into center stage, Logan feels like he’s staring up into the sun’s glare all over again. Everest Ethereum’s regal red velvet robes are illuminated with all manner of golden sequins and sparkling trim, glittering so brilliantly in the dark theatre that Logan briefly has to lift a hand to shield his gaze for fear that he’ll go blind otherwise. His eyes adjust quickly, though, and once they do, Logan is able to look more carefully at the enchanter, Everest. Framing his face is a meticulously styled halo that’s just as red as his robes are, and he’s got a golden crown perched on his head to match the rest of his ensemble. He is, in a word, beautiful.

Moments later, Patton comes trippingly traipsing out from the other side of the stage with a large wooden box in tow. His outfit, a blue skirt-and-tuxedo combo, is significantly less flashy than Everest’s, allowing Logan to conclude that Patton must be the enchanter’s assistant.

Patton and Everest reach the center of the stage at almost exactly the same time — was that choreographed? A coincidence? Or are they just that in touch with each other? — as thunderous applause echoes through the theatre, where Logan is seated among many other eager audience members. Once the applause dies down, the performance begins. Logan leans forward in his seat, eager to catch his first glimpse of magic from this new dimension.

It only takes a few minutes for Logan to realise that there’s about as much actual magic in this so-called “magic show” as there are dolphins in the desert.

What he’s watching is decidedly not magic. There are no spells, no incantations, no nothing. It’s all simply misdirection, distracting audience attention towards one location on the stage while a sneaky sleight-of-hand takes place in another. Patton scurries around and fetches items and tells awful puns while Everest stands center stage and dramatically waves his hands around, but Logan knows that it’s nothing but an act.

He can’t decide whether he’s disappointed or impressed, or an odd mixture of the two.

Very disappointed, for obvious reasons. He’d come into the theatre hoping to find that he isn’t completely alone in his magical abilities. It’s one thing for him to say that he can survive without magic, but it’s another thing entirely to actually try it. He’ll be able to figure it out in time; that much, Logan is certain of. It just… would have been nice to have someone who could help guide him through this transition.

But then, at the same time, very impressed. Despite the letdown, Logan has to admire how clever all of the tricks are. He can’t even begin to guess how many of them work, and isn’t at all confident that he’d be able to recreate the same things with magic. The scientific dimension has yet again proven to be far more inventive and creative than the magical one, it seems.

Plus, he has to admit that though it’s not in the traditional sense, Everest is enchanting. He is nimble fingers and laughing eyes and flaming hair and words that sing as he speaks them, and he is downright bewitching, all of him.

xxx

“Alright, guys, gals, and non-binary pals!” Patton says, walking up to the front of the stage and squinting in the brightness of the stage lights. “Gosh, it is so great to see that we have such a full house today, and especially since we’re going to need to pull up an audience member for this next trick! I’m looking for one very brave soul to come on up here and lay all his cards on the table. Let’s see, how about… you there, in the front!” Patton finishes, pointing directly at Logan.

Directly at Logan.

Logan realises quite suddenly that his hand is stuck up in the air as high as it can go.

Huh.

“Come on up! Don’t be shy, now,” calls Patton merrily, undeniable kindness colouring his every word. Logan debates pretending not to hear him, but eventually decides that that would only do more harm than good, and has no choice but to get up and pick his way through the rows and rows of seats, then climb up onto the stage where the full force of the stage lights hits him so hard, it almost makes his ears ring. Logan watches recognition flicker across Patton’s face, but the blue-tuxedoed man doesn’t miss a beat. “What’s your name?”

Logan, he tries to say. The word gets caught in his throat. He coughs and tries again, awkwardly: “My name is Logan.”

Patton turns back to the audience. “Alright, everyone, give it up for Logan!” The words have scarcely left his mouth before the building starts shaking with applause and a few scattered whoops and whistles. Patton waits for the noise to die down before turning back to Logan. There’s a mischievous expression on his face that makes Logan very uneasy indeed. “You know, I didn’t quite catch you that first time. Guess your volume was too low…”

Logan blinks.

“...gan?”

Low… gan. Lo-gan.

I might scream.

It’s a tempting notion, but before Logan can act on it, Patton seems to read his expression and hurries to move on. “Alright, Logan, your job’s going to be a super simple one, okay? We’re going back to the basics with this trick. I think everyone’s seen this one performed before. All I need you to do is pick a card, any card!” So saying, Patton gestures towards Everest with a flourish; Logan watches on in amazement as Everest pulls playing card after playing card out from behind his ear, until he’s got a full deck in his hands.

The enchanter hands the deck to Patton. The audience applauds dutifully. Patton grins.

“Okay, okay, settle down now. That’s just the beginning,” he calls. Then, turning to Logan, Patton fans the cards out face-down. “Go ahead, pick one. Now look at it. Memorise what’s on there. Don’t show it to me, okay? You can show it to the audience if you’d like, but make sure that I can’t see it.”

Logan obliges, pulling out a 5 of Diamonds and showing it off. He gets the feeling that everyone knows where this trick is going except for him.

“Great. Okay, now just slide that back in here, anywhere you’d like” continues Patton, still holding the cards in the same fanned-out position. Once Logan has done so, Patton shuffles the deck thoroughly before handing it back to Everest. Logan watches as Everest performs a series of complicated hand movements, shuffling faster and faster until his hands and the cards are nothing more than a blur of colour and motion, and then all at once —

“Is this your card?”

Logan’s eyes widen. The enchanter is brandishing the same card that he pulled out! “I — yes, it is!” he announces, nodding. “How did you…”

The other half of his question is drowned out in the cacophony of clapping that follows. Both Patton and the enchanter shake Logan’s hand while Patton’s lips move. Logan can’t hear him, of course, but it’s not difficult to infer that Patton is dismissing him.

Shakily, Logan walks off the stage and returns to his seat, feeling one part alarm, one part confusion, and ninety-eight parts exhilaration.

xxx

Much too soon, the performance is over. Logan surges to his feet along with the rest of the audience as the lights go back up, applauding until the palms of his hands are red and stinging.

The crowd carries him out into the no-longer-empty lobby, where Logan leans uncomfortably against one of the red brick walls. Perhaps he’s supposed to leave the building now, but he hesitates.

He doesn’t know where he’ll go once he’s left. And there’s something else, too, Logan realises after a moment. For some reason, leaving the theatre feels like leaving behind the last trace of magic that Logan will encounter for a long time. Yes, the show was made up of clever illusion rather than actual mana, but something undeniably magical happened in there tonight and Logan doesn’t want to walk away from it just yet.

So, he doesn’t. He stands and he waits, and he watches people animatedly talking to one another as they stream out the door, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. He watches the cookies disappearing as they get snatched up into the fists of greedy toddlers and equally as greedy middle-aged men alike.

He is squinting at a young fellow’s t-shirt, trying to decide if the text on it reads Could or Couldn’t Be Gayer (he’s quite fond of the sentiment either way) when a sudden shout and the sounds of scattered applause catch his attention. Logan looks up to see the enchanter walking out the backstage door and into the lobby, Patton trailing close behind.

At the sight of the two of them, Logan is quite glad that he chose to wait around.

A group of small children run up to tug on Patton’s skirt. One of them holds up a black device larger than her own head. “Will you take a picture with us?” Logan hears her say. Patton smiles warmly.

Logan’s heart feels warm, too.

He’s about to move forward in the crowd to try and get a closer look at the pair of them when someone sidles up next to him. Logan glances over to see Virgil, still clad in his black-and-purple hoodie.

“So?”

Logan furrows his brow. “So, what?”

“What did you think of the show?” Virgil clarifies.

“Oh. Oh, it was...” Logan trails off. He’s not sure if mere words can express everything he’s feeling right now.

The silence drags on. Virgil winces. “Uh-oh. Does that mean it was bad?”

“No! Not at all. I just — argh.” Logan runs a hand through his hair, frustrated at his inability to adequately express himself.

“Take your time, buddy.”

“What I’m trying to say is, I guess… it wasn’t quite so bad.” Logan finally gets out. “In fact, it was the best time that I’ve ever had.”

The ghost of a smile flits across Virgil’s chapped lips. “That good, huh? I probably shouldn’t be surprised. Roman and Patton are just amazing, aren’t they?”

“Roman?”

“Yeah. Wait, shoot, I’m not supposed to say that.” Alarm briefly darkens Virgil’s expression, but in the next instant it’s disappeared again. Whatever mistake he just made, he appears to be too tired to care. “Ah, well, secret’s out. Yeah, that’s the enchanter’s real name.”

Logan doesn’t understand. “But the sign says —”

“Yeah, I know what the sign says, I designed it. You didn’t think he was actually named Everest Ethereum, did you?” Virgil makes an odd sound, a cross between a chuckle and a sigh. “Roman just wanted a really fancy stage name and wouldn’t leave me alone until I changed it. I mean, at least it’s not as ridiculous as ‘Sir Squiggles the Brave.’ Don’t laugh.”

Logan arches a brow. “You can’t be serious.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said when I first heard it, too.”

“Okay, I know that you aren’t insulting Sir Squiggles,” a familiar voice interrupts their discussion. Logan and Virgil look up to see Everest — no, Roman, Logan corrects himself — standing in front of them, velvet robes and all. “Especially because you named our hamster that very same thing barely a week after shooting it down for me.”

One of Roman’s arms is slung affectionately around a giggling Patton’s shoulder. He uses the other to gather Virgil up in a tight hug.

“Hey, gross, let go of me! You’re gonna get your sweat from the show all over my new hoodie, Prince Underarm-stink,” Virgil splutters, though Logan notes that he doesn’t make any actual effort to extricate himself from the embrace as he continues to complain loudly.

Roman lets go of Patton to plant a kiss directly into Virgil’s purple hair, who suddenly goes silent. “Good to see you too, My Chemically Imbalanced Romance.”

“Ugh, you are the literal worst,” Virgil tries, but the fact that he’s laughing takes away most of the insult’s sting.

Roman replies confidently, “Shut up, you love me.” And he proceeds to shut him up thoroughly with kiss after passionate kiss, until the man has been reduced to nothing more than a blushing puddle in Roman’s arms.

Logan shifts uncomfortably. He feels like he’s intruding on a very intimate moment. Apparently Patton notices, because a moment later, he grabs his shoulders and very deliberately turns Logan away from the awkward scene and towards him.

“It’s Logan, right?” Patton asks, dropping his arms. This catches Logan off-guard; he didn’t think that Patton would remember him. He nods. “Ever gone up on stage before?”

“No, never.”

“You were really brave to step up onto the stage tonight, you know. That takes guts. It’s always especially scary the first time.” Patton blows a wayward blonde curl out of his face, looking at Logan with interest. “You didn’t seem to be too worried, though.”

“Well, why would I be?” says Logan quizzically. “All I had to do was follow a few simple instructions. That’s hardly something to worry about.”

Patton looks surprised, but only for a moment. Then he starts to laugh.

Logan isn’t totally sure what he said or did that Patton finds so funny, but whatever it is, he doesn’t regret it at all. Frankly, he would be perfectly content to do nothing but listen to Patton’s bubbly laughter for the rest of his life.

“Wow. You know, it sounds so much simpler when you put it that way!” Patton tells Logan once he’s recovered enough to form words again. “Public speaking? Easy peasy, you’re just reading words off a teleprompter. Building a house? Just following the blueprints. Programming the next big social media app? Just writing a few lines of code. Painting the Mona Lisa? All you’ve gotta do is —” he’s starting to snicker again — “is — is put paint on a canvas!” And then he’s off again, laughing, laughing until he’s gasping for breath, laughing with so much joy and mirth that Logan wants to laugh too.

Because even though he doesn’t understand what the joke was or what a teleprompter or a social media app or a Mona Lisa is, he understands that Patton is carefree and smiling and it’s because of him.

How wonderful.

A minute passes, then two, before Patton is finally all laughed out. By this time, Virgil and Roman have separated and are staring at Logan so intently that Logan starts to wonder if there’s perhaps something on his face.

Fortunately, Roman speaks up then, and his words reassure Logan that nothing is wrong. “I’m impressed, specs. The necktie and button-up shirt had me thinking you were bound to be a pretty boring guy — no offense — but it looks like I misjudged you, hmm? Anyone who can make Patton laugh like that is definitely worth my time. And I don’t say that lightly.”

“Roman,” cautions Virgil. “You’re starting to sound like an entitled brat.”

“Excuse you, I am not!”

“Definitely entitled,” Logan mutters. The words come out louder than he meant them to.

Virgil’s face lights up as he pokes Roman playfully in the arm. “Ha! Hear that, Ro? Even he agrees!” He turns to Logan in approval. “You know, I like you.”

Roman huffs, putting a perfectly manicured hand to his chest. “You’re both just jealous of me.”

“Kiddos! Play nice!” It’s Patton this time, swooping in to play mediator before Virgil and Roman can take their play-fighting any further. Logan sends Patton a silent thank-you as Virgil rolls his eyes fondly.

“Okay, yep. That we are, Roman. You got us.” This seems to pacify Roman, who allows his hand to fall back down to his side. Logan is grateful for the comfortable silence that follows.

Said silence doesn’t last very long, though. After just a moment, Roman speaks up again. “Pardon me, Logan, I hope you don’t mind my asking. Where are you from?” Seeing Logan’s confusion, Roman adds, “I mean, did you move here from another country or something? Your accent, it’s one that I don’t recall ever hearing before. And trust me, I would remember if I had.”

“I… have an accent?” says Logan, unable to mask his surprise.

“It’s very subtle,” jumps in Patton reassuringly. “I didn’t even notice, actually. Roman just has a bit of a knack for these things.”

Hm. Well. Considering how Logan lived in a completely separate dimension only a few hours ago, he supposes that probably shouldn’t be that surprising to learn. He doesn’t say this out loud, of course — the three of them would definitely think him crazy if he claimed that he’d come from an alternate dimension where no one believes in science and magic is a regular, everyday kind of thing.

Instead, Logan vaguely replies, “Oh, you’ve probably never heard of the place where I come from. It’s pretty far away.” Which technically is not a lie, unless the space-time continuum works in a very different way from how he thinks it does. Before any of them can ask him for more details, Logan adds, “In fact, I’ve scarcely been in this city of yours for a full day.”

“Ooh! On vacation, are ya?” asks Patton.

“Actually… no. I’m looking to settle down somewhere here.” It’s not until the words have left his mouth that Logan realises how true they are. He doesn’t want to leave the city. “It’s been, well, challenging, adjusting to the knowledge that I’m living somewhere completely unfamiliar. Especially since it wasn’t exactly my decision. I —” He cuts himself off, unsure why he’s confiding in these near-strangers. “I’m sorry, this is probably too much information, isn’t it?”

Roman replies quickly. “No, no, don’t worry. You’re not TMI’ing.”

“I’m not… TMI’ing?”

“Yeah. Like, TMI, but used as a verb.” Roman clarifies, not very helpfully.

“What’s TMI?”

“You know, like… too much information? It’s an acronym.”

“Oh, I see.” That must be a new vocabulary word from this dimension, then. Logan grabs his notebook from out of his back pocket and scribbles that down.

Virgil squints. “Are you making a flashcard?”

“No. Yes.” Logan coughs. “Not important. Are you quite certain that I’m not, er… TMI’ing, as you say?”

“Yes, we are quite certain,” says Patton, straightening his spine and imitating Logan’s posture. He giggles. “Sorry. Go on.”

“Well, there isn’t much else to say. I wish I could tell you more, but that’s it, really. I haven’t done anything exciting yet; I haven’t yet figured out where I’m going to sleep tonight, even,” Logan admits, sliding his notebook back into his pocket. “But to be quite frank with you, sudden change is hardly a new concept for me, anyway. It’s been a while since I was able to hold onto living quarters for more than half a year at most. So you needn’t worry about me.”

The silence that follows is far from a comfortable one.

Eventually, Virgil is the first to speak. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Logan, but… from the way you just described your life in the past, it sounds like you never really felt like you fit in anywhere. And if that’s the case, then I’d honestly say that this change might be for the better. You can move on now, you know?”

“Virgil’s right,” Patton pipes up. “Why not try taking a look at what’s on the horizon, instead? Keep exploring! Don’t just tolerate change, embrace it! Get out there and meet some new people, ya know? In fact, I think you’ve already got that last one in the bag,” finishes Patton meaningfully, gesturing around at himself, Roman, and Virgil.

Roman nods, looking thoughtful. “Ah, it’s just like I always like to say: leave the past in the past, make a plan of attack. Start looking forward and stop looking back.”

“Roman, you’ve literally never said that.”

“Oh, hush, Northern Down-snore.”

Virgil sticks out his tongue.

“Ahem. Anyway. Logan, to welcome you to Florida, I’d like to offer you the best gift you could possibly get. A formality, of course, since I’m already certain that you will accept.” Roman pauses dramatically. “Would you like my phone number?”

Phone?

Logan sighs heavily. He’s getting sick and tired of hearing words he doesn’t understand.

“I beg your pardon, but I’m afraid I don’t own a… phone.”

Virgil’s mouth falls open. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” replies Logan crisply. “I’ve never made a joke in my entire life.”

“Oh. Oh, my sweet cheese pastries. In this day and age, you don’t have a phone? Seriously, where did you even come from?” Roman says, scandalised. Without waiting for an answer, he moves on. “This simply will not do. Logan, how in the name of a forest fairy’s hairy armpits do you expect to survive out here without a phone?”

“I’m… sorry?”

“No, no, don’t apologise to me.” Roman rubs his forehead. “Logan, this is unbelievable. Okay, tell you what. I always carry an extra phone around with me, just in case. I’ve decided that you will be taking that phone with you when you leave the theatre today.”

“What? Oh, no no, you don’t have to do that,” Logan protests.

“Don’t even try to argue with me, Logan. It’s an old model, but it’ll serve you well enough until you can buy a phone for yourself. And it’s already got all of our contact information in there and everything!” Roman suddenly stops. “Oh, but… I just remembered I left it at home today. Hmm. You don’t have any plans for the evening, do you?”

Logan shakes his head, dazed.

“Perfect! Everything’s coming up roses, you see? Stick around a little while, then; I just need to get out of this heavy bathrobe here and then the three of us will be heading back to our apartment. You can come with. I’ll give you my — your — phone, and then you’ll be free to go. Or,” Roman pauses and exchanges a look with Virgil and Patton, then continues, “if you don’t have anywhere else to go, you’re welcome to spend the night at our place. There’s a pullout bed in the couch. It’s not exactly a luxury mattress, but it’s comfortable enough.”

“Roman!” hisses Virgil. “You can’t just invite people into our house like that! Like, obviously I’m cool with Logan staying over, but… that’s a really creepy move, dude.” Virgil turns to Logan. “Sorry about him.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, Roman gets fired up a lot — hang on, what did you say?”

Logan shrugs. “I said, I don’t mind.” And it’s true; he doesn’t. In fact, Logan is absolutely blown away by the incredible kindness he’s just been shown. These three young men only learned about his situation moments ago, and now they’re offering him a place to stay and a ‘phone’, free of charge? It all seems almost too good to be true.

Logan opens his mouth to tell Roman something along the lines of thanks, but no thanks, but stops. His only other option, he realises, is to make the long trek back into the forest and along the path, then stumble around with no mana until he can find that abandoned warehouse again. Which sounds less than ideal. Who knows what might be hiding in the dark?

Fortunately, Patton’s voice breaks into Logan’s thoughts before his imagination can answer that question. “So?”

Logan pushes up his glasses. “You’d be willing to let me stay the night with you, just like that?”

“Absolutely,” replies Patton firmly.

“Well, if you’re certain, then…” Logan is aware that this is most likely exactly how most kidnappings begin. But then, there are far worse fates than getting kidnapped by three beautiful young men the same age as him. And he really doesn’t have much of a choice. Logan swallows his pride and nods. “Then, thank you. Thank you so much. I don’t know how I can ever repay you for this —”

“Don’t worry about it, Logan,” beams Patton. “I’m just glad you’re not going to spend your first night in Florida alone.” Virgil nods. “Seriously, it’s no sweat. You don’t need to repay us with anything.”

“We-ell…” Three sets of heads turn towards Roman as he makes a vague gesture, flourishing a long, crimson sleeve. “There is one thing.”

Logan feels his heart plummet into his shoes. Of course there’s a catch.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that!” protests Roman. “I’m not about to make you polish our bathroom with a toothbrush or anything; I’m no evil stepmother. All I ask is this: once you’ve found a place to live and gotten all settled in, you give us a call.”

As Patton gasps and Virgil’s eyes widen in understanding, Roman grins.

“Let us all take you out on a date sometime, yeah?”

[liv-andletdie]

PUPPY LOVE

Author: liv-andletdie Rating: Teen and up Pairing: TP Zelink Modern AU Notes: Link is a vet at Ordon Veterinary surgery. Zelda is an Aristocrat with a dog who is sick… surprisingly often. Though nothing seems to be wrong with them

Available on Ao3

Chapter 7: The Reunion

Days at the surgery were, in a word, tedious. Depending on the time the building could be flooded with a never ending stream of patients. Cats, dogs, mice, hamsters, birds, gerbils, even reptiles were all frequent visitors to the small country clinic. And as such this made work very difficult for the small team of veterinarians who worked there. Some days it would a be a challenge to get everyone seen and make it through the day without cat scratches or pecks from annoyed parrots. 

And then you had some days where it seemed like nothing happened, like the goddesses had met up for tea and decided that,“No, Ordon shall not face any great medical disaster with its animals today,” and given everyone the day off. Days where the only people to enter the building were delivery men and staff returning from their lunch break.

Link hated the quiet days.

He’d never normally hated them. Sure, he used to get a little restless with nothing to do, but he’d never go so far as to say he hated them. Mild dislike yes, but never hate.

But then, he supposed, he’d never normally had the need to distract himself as much.

Every free second was spent thinking about Her. The way she walked, the way she talked, the perfect curl of her smile, the dazzling blue of her eyes! He’d half expected himself to be over her by now. Iit had been four months since Zelda Harkinian was last in town, and yet his every waking moment was devoted to wondering about her, and wondering if she was thinking about him too.

He wanted to blame Rusl. The elder vet had put that ridiculous mantra in his head, There’s always a chance, even if that chance grew less and less with each turn of the minute hand that he was currently staring at.

Link was sitting in the waiting room, his white coat thrown over one of the chairs as he fixed his eye on the clock. The monotonous ticking marked the slow march of the day. Half past four, only three and a half hours left to go. In the corner of the room Ilia sat at her desk, methodically reading through her coursework, the sound of paper turning breezed through the air in rhythm with the never ending thud of the clock. It would have been almost peaceful if it hadn’t been so warm.

“I thought you had a summer break?” Link asked, his voice shattering the fragile silence of the waiting room. He watched Ilia jump, accidentally flinging her pen up in the air. She scrambled to try and catch it, wincing as it hit of the rim of her mug and fell to the floor.

“I do,” she huffed, leaning down to rescue her pen. “But there’s nothing wrong with trying to keep my mind sharp. Better than just sitting around in this heat”

Summers in Ordon were known for their warmth. A damp humid air from Faron rolling across the winds, only made worse by the unrelenting sun up above. The storms offered little respite from the omnipresent heat, only really clearing the air for a day or two until the Faron winds choked them once more.

“I don’t know how you can concentrate,” he muttered, tugging at the collar of his shirt. He’d already unbuttoned the top two buttons, unbuttoning the third would just make him look silly. Well… sillier than he already did. The heat had no doubt turned his cheeks and ears bright pink.

“I can’t,” Ilia sighed. A soft thud indicated that she’d shut her book, apparently giving up on studying for the time being. Link would have laughed if he didn’t feel so lethargic, doing nothing was exhausting. At least I don’t live in Gerudo, he thought as he wiped a hand across his brow, I don’t think I could handle this kinda heat all year round. The Gerudo desert would be unbearable right now, but maybe Castleton would be better.

He wondered how hot it got in Castleton. Would the pavements sizzle? Would the smell of exhaust hang heavy in the air? Would people flock to the park in their lunch breaks? Would Zelda’s office have functioning AC?

Zelda… how was she dealing with the summer heat?

Tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling, Link let out a mournful sigh, all air leaving his lungs in a defeated rush. He was doing it again, thinking about her. He needed to stop otherwise he was going to drive himself mad. Zelda was gone and there was nothing he could do to change that.

“What’cha thinkin bout?” Ilia mumbled, her voice pulling him from his thoughts. He turned his head to look at her, taking in the way she slumped over the desk, her cheek resting in her palm while she fanned herself with a pamphlet on, what looked like, deworming cats and dogs.

“Nothin,” he lied, eyes turning back to the clock on the wall. Four fortyfive. How has it only been fifteen minutes?

“You’re not thinking about Zelda again are you?” Ilia sighed softly, the arm holding her makeshift fan landing against the desk. She looked as tired as he felt, shoulders sagging and eyes drooping. Even the curl of her hair seemed to have given up the ghost as it hung against her neck.

“Why would I be thinking about Zelda?” he scoffed, trying not to choke on his sarcasm.

“Because you’ve got the biggest crush on her in the history of Hyrule,” Ilia huffed. It wasn’t a secret. At this point practically everyone in Ordon knew of Link’s feelings towards the brunette heiress. They’d all agreed it was a damn shame to see him so heartsick, some even going as far as to call it cruel. Link disagreed with that; afterall, it wasn’t Zelda’s fault that he’d fallen for her as hard as he had. “Honestly Link...it’s been months. I don’t th-”

“I know,” He cut in, wincing at the acid in his tone. “I’m sorry, Ilia… I just… I know it’s been ...I can’t stop wondering...” Where would I be if she’d never left?

Ilia pushed herself back in her chair, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. “I know,” she sighed, fingers tugging at the hem of her T-shirt. “I know, Link, I do. But maybe it is time to move on. Get out there, meet someone new”

Link sighed. She was only trying to help, he knew that, but the idea of going out and trying to find someone else to fall for… it all felt rather empty. Though he couldn’t bring himself to admit this to Ila. He saw the way she looked at him, worry causing her shoulders to go tense, a false smile always plastered to her lips. She just wanted him to be happy.

Closing his eyes, Link let his head fall back against the chair. All energy leaving from his body with a deep and tired sigh. “Maybe it is,” he murmured, trying not to notice how heavy Ilia’s silence felt now.

Quiet filled the air once more, the repeated ticking of the clock seeping into the spaces left by the absence of  conversation. Outside the sun beat down against the dried earth filling the room with a blazing heat. Not for the first time that day, Link wondered if this was what the evil realm was like.

His wondering was halted when Ilia gave a loud sigh from across the room, throwing her makeshift fan at the desk with a ferocity that he’d never seen from her before. “How does Rusl do it?!” She cried, red faced from exertion.

Rusl was one of the lucky few who rarely seemed affected by the heat. Every year the Faron winds would blow and every year the elder vet appeared to ignore them. It was one of the great unsolved mysteries in the surgery as to how he managed to accomplish such a feat (along with “who’s sandwich is that in the fridge?” and “why are there never any gummy worms in the vending machine”) Link’s money was on the theory that Rusl was part Goron and was therefore used to the heat, Ilia didn’t seem to agree.

“You know my theory,” he sighed running a hand through his hair.

Ilia ignored him, pushing herself away from the desk. “I’m gonna go find a fan,” she declared “Watch the desk for me? I doubt anyone’s gonna show up but, y'know, just in case.”

Link gave a small nod of his head, watching as Ilia fled down the staff corridor. With a sigh he pushed himself from his seat, grimacing at the feel of sweat rolling down his spine.

The desk was placed right in front of the door, open and vulnerable to the blistering sun. No wonder Ilia was so uncomfortable, he thought reaching a hand up to tug at his collar. It was much warmer in this part of the room. He hoped she’d be back soon as he dropped into her chair, he didn’t think he could stand sitting in the sun for too long.

Now I just need to find something to do.

There was only three hours left of work and Link doubted that anyone would show up in that time. Five pm wasn’t exactly their most active hour at the best of times, let alone on days where nothing happened. Running a hand through his hair, Link searched the desk for something to do. It would be better to keep busy he reasoned as he rifled through the drawers, maybe he’d find something interesting?

His heart sank at the sight of paper, bills, and a bag of hard candy that had gone sticky. Nothing he could use to entertain himself! Well… he could make a paper airplane? It had been years since he’d last made one but he was sure he could figure it out if he had enough time. But then again… Ilia probably needed the paper for something, he couldn’t just use it all up without asking.

Resigned to boredom, Link gave the drawer a sharp kick. It made an almighty thud as it collided with the desk, slamming shut and then opening again from the force. He could feel his frustration grow the longer he sat in the sun. It seemed that everything was going wrong, he couldn’t even kick a drawer back into place without having that backfire!

Link debated just leaving the drawer open. If it didn’t want to close that wasn’t his problem, and there was no way he was going to lower himself to the level of disobedient furniture! He wasn’t going to fight with a desk, he was not! He refused! Why should he get down on his knees to close a stubborn drawer when a kick would have sufficed? It was unnatural, the desk was getting ideas above its station if it thought it could treat him this way.

I’m going mad, he thought sliding to his knees under the desk. He pulled the drawer open fully to inspect it, frowning at the sight of the sticky candies littered against the bills and papers. Suddenly every complaint Ilia had ever made about ants made sense, if this was how she stored her sweets no wonder she was popular with the insects. Swallowing his discomfort, Link began sweeping the candies back into their bag. He really needed to have a word with Ilia about how she organised her desk drawers.

“Hello?” A voice called out, musical, romantic, and achingly familiar. “Is there anyone there?”

Link jumped, electricity arcing through his body with every word that passed the strangers lips. Power charged through his legs and he rushed to stand up, the stubborn drawer and the disgusting candy all but forgotten to his frantic mind. Pushing himself upwards with all his might, Link tried to hold back a yelp as his head cracked against the underside of the desk.

Smooth one, Wolfe, he thought, a hand pressed against the steadily growing lump on his scalp, his eyes shut tight at the pain. From the otherside of the desk he heard the voice again, beautiful and soft and tainted with worry. “Oh my goodness! Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Link breathed, standing up slowly this time to preserve his remaining brain cells. “My dignity took the worst blow.”

The laugh that followed was nothing less than magic, a pure symphony. Wonderful lilting notes hung in the air around him as he straightened, soothing his injuries and his pride. He could listen to that laugh all day and never get tired of it. He eased his eyes open, trying to find the source of such an enchanting giggle, and his heart stopped.

He knew the voice was familiar, why it caused such a powerful reaction in him. He’d heard it before, he’d listened to it in his dreams, he’d spent months replaying the last words she’d ever said to him. He’d recognize her voice anywhere.

She stood in front of him, brown hair piled in a messy bun at the back of her head, her face and neck flushed pink with the summer heat. At her side sat a large husky.

Zelda was back.

“H-hi,” he gasped, suddenly lost for breath. It felt like all the air in the world had vanished, leaving him floundering like a fish out of water.

“Hi,” she sighed, a heart stopping smile curling over her lips. Screw suffocating, he felt like he was drowning! This couldn’t be real, there was no way! The heat had finally gotten to him, he’d hit his head to hard, he’d fallen asleep and this was all just a dream.

“How have you been, Link?” She asked and he wanted to faint. She was here, right in front of him!

“Swell,” he lied. “Just...great.” He could feel his cheeks begin to ache from how wide he was smiling. “A-and you? How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been good,” She said, nodding a little too enthusiastically. “Busy...work’s been a little frantic”

“Yeah,” he breathed lamely. Why was it so difficult to talk around her? She was just a person it shouldn’t be so hard to just open his mouth and make conversation like a normal person! Comeon, Link. Think! get back on track. “What uhh..what brings you here? Is Naru okay? What’s up?” Perfect.

“Oh! No, she’s...she’s fine.” Zelda started, her eyes flashing quickly to the Husky at her feet. Naru sat on the ground, her tongue lolling out of her mouth as she panted through the heat. “She’s good there’s nothing wrong with her. I just thought that...it’d be a good idea to get her checked over just in case. I mean what with the… heat…” Zelda trailed off, lifting a hand to pull at the messy bun at the back of her neck. She looked… nervous? “I-I can come back later if now’s not a good time”

Link gave the room a quick glance. He took in the still chairs resting in the sunshine, the gentle and never ending tick-tocking of the clock, the fine dust motes floating in the air around them illuminated only briefly before fading away again. It was utterly devoid of life, save for the three of them. Ilia hadn’t even returned yet.

“Now’s fine,” He practically cried as he moved away from behind the desk. “Now’s a great time. Examination room three is open, I’ll take you in there…” The double entendre fell from his lips I’ll take you in examination room three, come on, Link be subtle at least! “I didn’t mean like… I’ll just show you the way”

Link wasn’t sure but he thought he saw a blush rise across Zelda’s cheeks, the already pink skin turning rosy as he moved past her towards the chairs to collect his coat. He’d rather not wear it in such warm weather, but it was always best to appear professional. Biting back a grimace he tugged it over his shoulders before ushering Zelda towards the small examination room.

Pushing open the door Link revealed the modest space. A long metal table took up most of the room, behind it sat a series of cabinets, the tops littered with jars filled with cotton and boxes of latex gloves. A small sink sat at the furthest end from the door, a small trash can placed beneath it. An old computer sat in the corner, it’s screen lighting up as Link pushed at keys to wake it up. With one hand he directed Zelda to sit in the only chair in the room whilst he pulled up a small plastic stool.

“Right, so, just a couple of routine questions,” He started, pulling up Naru’s medical charts.

“Lay them on me,” Zelda smirked, making herself comfortable in her seat. Naru curled around her legs, the strange and unfamiliar environment making her feel anxious.

“Have there been any changes to her eating or drinking habits?”

“No.”

“Good, any weight gain or-”

A sharp howl cut through the air, halting Link in his tracks. He saw Zelda flash him an apologetic look as she reached down to try and calm the animal. “I’m sorry, I know it’s impolite but I gotta ask,” Link continued, earning a smile from Zelda that made his chest feel tight. Ignoring the feeling he asked again, “Any weight gain or loss?”

“No,” she giggled, her hand scratching behind Naru’s ears.

“She up to date on her vaccines?”

“Yes, she got her boosters just last month.”

“Any coughing or Diarrhea?”

“No, thank goodness.”

“Balance issues?”

“Steady as a rock.”

“Excellent, let’s get her up on the table.”

Naru was not a fan of being lifted it seemed as Link wrapped his arms under her. She squirmed in his grasp, letting out another howl as she did so. Zelda stood to the side, muttering apologies and assurances that normally she’s much more well behaved, offering a hand to help calm or distract the wriggling canine. Eventually the two got her on the table, Naru letting out an indignant whine as her claws made contact with the cool steel surface.

Link began with checking her vitals, starting with her pulse and respiration rate before moving onto her temperature (and apologising profusely while he did so) all the while rolling back and forth on his stool between the computer and Naru.

“Vital signs are good,” he murmured half to himself as he stared at the screen. He could hear Zelda behind him blow kisses to her furry friend, the mental image causing him to smile. How was it that she was able to make him feel so happy with the simplest of actions?

Rolling back to the husky, Link started to conduct his physical examination. Naru seemed calmer than she had before, probably soothed by Zelda’s kisses and pats. He watched as she tilted her chin skyward, bright blue eyes sliding shut in pleasure as Zelda scratched at her neck, her tail creating a steady drumbeat against the table.

“I take it she ain’t a huge fan of vets,” he joked, reaching his own hands forward to press against Naru’s abdomen.

“Just the examination rooms,” Zelda confirmed as she pulled her hands back to her lap. “This is the fastest I’ve gotten her to calm down though, there must be something in the room that’s putting her at ease.”

“Could be the wallpaper?” Link snorted jerking his head towards the garish blue and green diagonal stripes that decorated the room. Zelda rolled her eyes at him but she laughed, rewarding him with another heart stopping smile.

Swallowing he turned back to the task at hand. Pulling a stethoscope from the wall behind him, he began listening to Naru’s heart and breathing. She gave a quick twitch at the feel of cold metal against her ribs, blue eyes snapping open to glare at him silently. shrugging his shoulders in a half hearted apology, Link couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up at his throat.

Across from him, Zelda sat back in her chair. She’d taken the messy bun out of her hair, running through the strands with her fingers to tidy them. Naru’s check up was forgotten as he watched her, nimble fingers pulling the hair into a perfect plait, a serene expression on her face.

He knew he’d missed her, the entirety of Ordon knew that he’d missed her! He’d thought about nothing but her for the past four months, just praying he’d get the chance to see her one last time. Having her here, now, in front of him, he hadn’t realized how desperate he’d been for that prayer to be answered.

“It’s nice to see you again,” he said, so quiet he wasn’t even sure that he’d said the words out loud. Zelda’s eyes turned towards him, the beginnings of a blush painting her cheeks and ears a light pink.

“Well…” she swallowed, hands dropping to her lap. He watched as she clutched at the fabric of her skirt, her knuckles going a bright white. She tilted her head towards Naru on the table. “She missed you”

“I wasn’t talking to the dog.”

Zelda's eyes grew wide, cheeks turning scarlet and lips parting in a quiet, surprised gasp as she lifted her eyes to his. All air seemed to rush from her lungs and for a moment Link was scared that she was going to faint or curse him out. But instead she seemed to gather herself, eyelashes fluttering as she searched for something to focus on that wasn’t him. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and Link felt his chest grow hot.

“It’s nice to see you again too,” She’d gone bright red, her nerves masterfully hidden as she gazed up at him through her lashes. The room seemed to grow warmer but he couldn’t bring himself to care, her words were echoing around his head like the chimes of a cymbal. Maybe… just maybe, she’d missed him as much as had missed her?

Naru’s sharp, annoyed, howl wrang through the air, shattering the moment and drawing his attention back to her and the stethoscope  still pressed against her ribs. Fighting back the rising flush of embarrassment he felt at being called out by a husky, Link quickly returned to his work as he examined her eyes, teeth, and ears. Once he was satisfied that she was alright, Link pulled his stool over the computer.

“Naru looks fine,” he murmured, hands moving across the keys. “She’s recovered well from that cold she had a couple months back, so that’s good. As for dealing with the heat I’d recommend just brushing her a whole lot to get rid of any excess fur, but don’t trim her. Also, if you’ve got a pond in your garden she might like to swim in that to keep cool? A kiddie pool would also work. I actually knew a guy who’d freeze fruit for his dog so she could play with it. Just took an old ice cream tub and filled with water with an apple in it”

“Thank you,Link -  uh Doctor Wolfe.” He watched, out of the corner of his eye, as she showered Naru with affection. Pressing loving kisses against her forehead and gentle scratches under her chin and ears.

“Just doing my job,” he sighed, as he shut the computer down. She turned to him, something shining in her royal blue eyes that made him weak at the knees. It really was good to see her again. “I’ll walk you back to the desk.”

<><><>

The lowering sun cast a deep orange light over the waiting room. Tall shadows of the trees outside curled over the room through the windows like the cracks in a vase. The clock continued it’s resolute march and somewhere nearby an electric fan whirred, pulling and pushing the heavy air around the space.

“How long have you been back in Ordon?” Link asked, holding the door open for Zelda and Naru to walk past. Her perfume tickled his nose as she got close, lingering in the back of his throat. The scent of fresh roses following in the air after her.

“Not long, I just got back really,” she said, pulling her braid over her shoulder. “I’ve not even been up to the estate yet, I just... came straight here.”

“Worried about Naru?”

“No...I…” She trailed off, a hand coming up to tug on her braid, a nervous smile curling over her lips. “I just wanted to come here first”

It was impossible to hold back the goofy, idiotic, grin that plastered itself across his face. Even the most miserable of people would have failed when faced with the knowledge that Zelda Harkinian had wanted to get to the surgery before anything else. He’d managed to compose himself earlier when she had said that it was nice to see him again, but she was quickly breaking down his defences. He’d be a dribbling pile of nerves by the time she left and all she had to do was smile at him!

Turning towards the desk, in an attempt to at least hide his grin, Link began drawing up her bill. The fan that Ilia had placed on the desk only worked to increase his discomfort, blowing hot air directly into his face as he tried to work. The secretary herself, however, was nowhere to be seen. A small yellow note stuck to the computer monitor was the only clue to her whereabouts.

Uli’s stuck at the bakery, Rusl’s at the ranch. I had to take Colin to cricket club, desk is all yours. -Ilia x P.s. don’t root around my stuff!

Suppressing the urge to rub his eyes, he fished a pen out of the pot she kept there to write his reply.

Clean your candy. Ants love it, I don’t. -L P.s. the fan is useless

“That’s forty five ruppees for the consultation. No other charge because she’s a perfectly healthy dog.” He held the card reader out towards Zelda, looking away as she typed in her pin. He could hear the sound of Naru’s tail thumping against the floor in time with the clock on the wall in the otherwise silent room.

“How long are you in Ordon for?” he asked, pulling back the reader as it began to print the receipt. He’d been aiming to break the silence before it got too daunting, to make casual conversation like two friends do. And yet his mind had leapt to the first question he’d wanted to ask. He felt the tops of his ears grow warm as he handed her card back to her. No turning back now.

“I’m here for a month,” she explained, seemingly not noticing his sudden nerves. She tucked her card back into her purse. “I’m taking a break from work for a little bit.”

“Cool, cool.” Now what? He’d hit a dead end. Cool wasn’t a way to continue a conversation, nor a way to end one properly. He couldn’t just stop talking, but then what should he say? You’re gonna love the weather? No, he doubted anyone could love this weather. She might take it as sarcastic, but what if she didn’t? Then he’d have to explain himself and that would be awkward. Not to mention that it was a pessimistic statement to make for no reason! Talking about the weather was off the table. Any plans? might be a good choice. Unless she thought he was asking her out… would that be such a bad thing? He could ask her out right now! It’d be easy, just say Well if you’re here for a month do you wanna hang out sometime? There was nothing stopping him! That’s it! Link decided I’m going to ask her out.

“We might see each other around.”

You coward.

“We might,.” She agreed, pulling her hand bag up higher to her shoulder. He couldn’t tell, and he didn’t want to assume anything but… she seemed disappointed. “It was nice seeing you again.”

“You too,” idiot! idiot! idiot! “Take care.” By Farore, he was stupid! Saying goodbye to her now? Well she probably had somewhere to be, shopping to do or something. There’d been no one at the estate so she’d need to air it out and clean the sheets maybe. He couldn’t keep her here any longer than he already had. He was a veterinarian, he’d done his job, she had no reason to stick around.  

“I will,” She smiled, taking a step backwards towards the door. She was almost hesitant.

Realistically, when am I gonna run into her again? I don’t even have her number.

“Uh, wait...”

She stopped. Bright, royal blue, eyes staring at him. The whole situation was vaguely familiar, only this time they were standing in a sweltering waiting room instead of her driveway under freezing cold rain. Back then, all he’d wanted was for her to stay. That wasn’t an issue now, she was staying albeit only for a few weeks. But a few weeks would have to be enough time.  

“Yes?”

Screw half-cooked Ramen. It was now or never.

“Would you… I mean it’s… there’s a… do you wanna get coffee sometime?” He choked. He’d envisioned this moment before, except he hadn’t been stumbling over his words and he’d swept her off of her feet in a display so romantic that cheesy romcom movies would look tame in comparison. But he’d done it now, for better or worse. He couldn’t even look at her, his eyes staring at the pen he’d left lying out on the desk. She was probably going to say no, maybe she’d let him down gently if he was lucky.

“I’d love to.”

Wait, what? His heart skipped a beat in his chest. Had she just… she’d said… she wanted too…

“Great. Great!  I’ll… uhh give you my number,” He began patting down his pockets in a frenzy, searching desperately for his phone. His mind and heart still reeling from the revelation that Zelda-Goddess-Damned-Harkinian had just said yes to going on a date with him. Only one problem remained… his phone was charging in the break room. Resisting the urge to slam his head against the desk he continued.  “I don’t...I don’t have my phone with me.  Uhh I could run back and-”

Zelda reached forward faster than he could comprehend, a hand expertly wrapping around his forearm, keeping him still as she pushed up his shirt sleeve. He watched breathless as she grabbed the pen from the desk and began writing on his skin in short, elegant, cursive.

0145 712598 - Miss Harkinian x

“You’ve got my number,” She breathed, a coquettish grin pulling at her lips. Link felt faint at the sight of her smile and the feel of her hand on his arm, her thumb tracing small circles over his skin.

“I do,” He said dumbly, his heart kicking back into gear at the realization. “I have your number so I’ll call you and then we can arrange something.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Her smile is gonna be the death of me, he thought as she pulled away. But damn, what a way to go. Zelda’s hand dropped from his arm, her attention drawn towards Naru as she gave a low howl.

“I gotta get her home,” Zelda giggled, leaning down to pat her husky on the nose. “I’ll hear from you later?”

“Absolutely,” He gasped, nodding his head so fast he was sure he was going to do himself an injury. “You’ll hear from me later, 100%.”

“Goodbye, Link,” she sighed, her lip caught between her teeth in a way that made his heart race.

“Bye, Zelda.

And just like that she was gone, walking out of the door, her husky in tow. He watched her till he couldn’t see her anymore,till she was nothing but a spec on the horizon, till the setting sun began to shine in his eyes and the clock struck the hour. Pushing away from the desk, he ran to the break room with all the power he could muster.

His phone was right where he’d left it, plugged in next to the toaster of all things. He practically ripped it from the wall in his haste. Adrenaline was rushing through his veins as he punched her number in, causing his whole body to shake with anticipation. Pressing the phone against his ear he waited, counting the rings until she picked up.

Ring ring

Ring ring

Ring ring

It was torture. Two seconds felt like five hours. He couldn’t stop moving, constantly tapping his feet against the floor. He thought he was going to explode until he heard her voice, sweet and melodious, echo down the phone line.

“Hello, Zelda Harkinian speaking.How can I help you?”

“Hi, yeah, I’m Doctor Link Wolfe with the Ordon veterinary surgery. I was wondering if you were free this friday?”

~Fin~

<><><>

The final chapter? What? no? Yes. This marks the end of the FIRST installment of Puppy Love. I'll be taking a short break after this but when I'm back I'll be starting work on the Puppy Love Short stories and lots of new fics as well. I'll write a sappier Authors note for the Epilogue which I'll be posting up in a week I promise haha

Massive Thanks to @zeldasdiaries/ @missdellarosa, @andelynk, and @electragoob for helping me so much during this process. I couldn't have done it without them. And thank you all so much for sticking by me through this, I'm so grateful to each and every one of you

[unsaudi]

The Man with the Suitcase

He had nothing left to his name, not that he had much before, but now, it was all gone. He would wonder to himself when did it all go wrong, when did he allow himself to become this miserable. The Man never found an answer to his own question, and the more he asks, the more miserable he felt. It was an endless cycle of self hate and deprecation.

He decided to search for a mysterious person who goes as “Uncle Saleh.” He was considered a social myth that nobody had actually made the effort to look for, let alone look for in the middle of the desert, but the Man decided to do it. He needed to do it, finding Uncle Saleh would be the only solution left to all his problems.

As he went about wandering the big open desert endlessly, thoughts giving up would enter his mind, but he would shake them off. He wasn’t going to give up, either find Uncle Saleh or die trying. To return home is to commit suicide.

On the third day during his search, he ran out water and decided to lie down in the middle of the desert at night. It was empty and quite. It felt like home to him, not that his home was the same as this, but his had a nostalgic feeling to it. The Man lied down, dug the tip of his fingers in the cold sand and stared at the dark starry sky. What a beautiful scenery it was. He caught himself tearing up at the look of shooting stars. It never occurred to him that such a a view could be seen in real life. It was beautiful.

He woke up in a large tent filled with ornaments and frills. As he looked to his right and left side, he smiled, knowing that this has to be Uncle Saleh’s place. The Man was confident, he got up smiling, patted his clothes and looked around for the man himself, but he could only find two men sitting next to a fire in the middle of the day, it felt strange to him, and soon after, day turned into night, and the two men, wearing bedouin clothing, stared back at him with a grin. They got up and grabbed him all the way to their fire, he tried to get out of their hands to no avail. He was shoved into the fire, and suddenly everything turned back, all the way back to where it all begun.

Mohammed found himself back in his childhood bedroom, his mother was calling him to come eat lunch. It all felt strange, he would look around in his room to make sure everything is real, the T.V, closet, two beds, two desks. Everything looks about right, even touching those objects feels real.

“Son, it’s time for lunch, come over here NOW!” mother would shout while clapping after each word. Mohammed couldn’t help but cry, was it joy that he’s back to the simply old days? No.

He knows exactly those days, they were not simple, no matter what, nothing will become “simple.” He wiped off the tears and laughed, oh he laughed so hard.

“Is this your solution? Throw me back in time? And for what, for me to fix whatever mistakes I’ve made?” Mohammed said, shouting.

He heard nothing back, even Mother stopped calling for him. Mohammed kept talking, “I’m the mistake, and I don’t know why, it’s all in me. I am destined to keep repeating the same mistakes everywhere I go, and no matter what I do, everyone ends up leaving me alone. It’s all my fault, and going back in time isn’t gonna help me fix anything, because even if I fixed my problems, I am simply BOUND tp create MORE. It is in me to make mistakes and never learn from them, to keep repeating them is my destiny! I am here to ask you, I am here for you to help me stop! Help me cleanse myself of the demon inside of me.”

Mohammed’s surroundings turned to sand, and from deep below, a strange figure emerged. Initially, it looked non-human like, it then transformed into a human looking man. He was dark skinned with traditional old bedouin clothing, wearing white all over, with ornaments perfecting the look, and a knife rooted in his waist. Mohammed assumed this man be Uncle Saleh, so he asked if he was, and the man nodded.

He expected him to never reply, let alone nod. But Uncle Saleh responded to Mohammed. He reached his hand over to the boy, Mohammed grabbed it, and as soon as he did, everything collided. Reality has become part of the imagination, and the human emotion manifested itself into a shapeshifting being.

Quietness ensued. Mohammed was confident in what he wanted, so he asked “Who am I?”

He found himself breaking down. Every part of his body trembled and broke down, detaching. There was nothing left but the soul, weak and ugly. Mohammed was able to look at his current state, and he wondered how and why..

Finally, Uncle Saleh spoke. He was stern looking, and he said “Am I allowed to speak now, boy?” Mohammed felt frightened, he wanted respond but couldn’t out of fear.

“You asked me who am I. I will answer your very human question. You are a human being who has lived on this world 23 years, insignificant, petty, worthless, and will never amount to anything. No matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, it will never result in anything but sadness from the failures you’ll experience. A sadness caused by failing to understanding your whole being. The human soul was created for the purpose of provided power to the its creator, God, and each soul has a limit. Your soul is limited, it is weak and ugly. You try to be something that you’ll never be able to achieve, as your soul wasn’t created for that purpose. You try your hardest and end failing, for an obvious reason. It is not how hard you try. Simply put, it is “Is it meant for you or not?” And it’s not. Boy, nothing is meant for you, your soul an unfortunate soul, it helps in providing deep emotion for the creator of all. That purpose in itself is big, and you should accept as is, because it will never, ever, in a million years, change. No matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, your purpose will not change. It might not seem as big or as important of a purpose as others’ but it is anyway.“

After he had finished talking, Uncle Saleh let go of Mohammed’s hand, and everything around fell into a single dot up until the moment when Mohammed opened his eyes wide. He was back in the middle of the desert. He had thought to himself if what he had just experienced was real, and he had come to the conclusion that is has to be. 

Uncle Saleh’s words brought an odd sound of joy to Mohammed. It was unexpected, but of course, much needed. His new reason to live is challenge his soul, his purpose is to not provide what’s required of him. He didn’t want to appease the creator, and so he strived to be happy. He volunteered and did so much unpaid work. He helped everyone in need. It made people happy, and return it made him happy, even if it was short term happiness. He kept doing the most he can.

On the night of his death, as he had turned 30 years old few months ago, he stared at the wall of his bedroom smiling. He didn’t look up at the sky, God isn’t up there, not down, left or right. God is everywhere, no matter where you look, he is there. Mohammed’s soul slowly departed his vessel, the body. He was found “dead” by his mother. It was a sad day for everyone in his family, as they all had loved him dearly. He was extremely nice to them and helpful. Losing him wasn’t easy to accept, but with time, everyone had moved on. They would remember him from time to time, but would glance over those memories; they are useless to them, they bring nothing but sadness, and nobody wants to feel such a terrible, heart-wrenching feeling.

Mohammed’s soul was dissipated. All work he did is remembered by people on Earth. And when those people who loved him and remembered him die, his memory will slowly disappear completely. All gone.

Ninety years later, when a teenager from future generations looked for old family members to find the best suitable DNA sample to use from the past, he looked at Mohammed’s profile. His physical attributes weren’t wanted, but his emotion and nature is much needed in the new world, and so the process of copying his brain cells started. A code was made completely functioning the same way Mohamme’s brain functioned. They downloaded the brain data to a healthier body, and named him Mohammed.

Everyone in the future loved him, they all wanted to associate with him, learn from him, and be him. They held him at a high regard. When the moment came where the second meteor showers were about to hit the planet, everyone chose Mohammed as the new Adam, and so his consciousness was 100% copied  and stored until years later, him and the new Eve were retrieved by the New Inhabitants. A group of Aliens who searched around for new life to examine and preserve if they are facing extinction.

They managed to make contacted the new Adam and Eve. Recording their teachings and spreading them around the galaxies. Those teaching slowly became a religion for some creatures, not that many of them are aware of such a thing as religion, but it has become a way of living, a moral code for everyone to abide by.

When the war for the planet had begun, all devices were destroyed, and codes were lost forever. New Adam and New Eve were erased. Their teachings still reside in the minds of all that is living. They taught understanding and patience above all else.