#Tiny angst with happy ending

[hairmetal666]

Read Part One here

cw: implied child abuse

Eddie's coming over for coffee. Not Eddie with Nancy and Robin or Eddie with the kids. Just Eddie.

They haven't been alone in 9 years and now Eddie is coming over for coffee.

They're friends, of course. After Vecna they didn't have much of a choice, but they've never talked about it--that they used to be something.

After Steve kissed Eddie goodbye for what turned out to be the last time, they didn't see each other again for months and months, except for a devastatingly fleeting moment in the Family Video parking lot. And the next time after that, Eddie's pinning him to the wall of a rickety boathouse, a broken bottle to his throat.

What's going through his mind, his body, at that moment is relief. For days, weeks, months, he ached for Eddie's touch again, and even though he was in danger, he relished in the push of their bodies together. Thought, if this is how he dies, he won't mind going.

But they don't talk about it, about them, because Eddie is on the run and Max is going to die, and they have to save the world, so there's no time. In the aftermath, it's the least of their worries, and now it's been almost a decade and Eddie is coming over for coffee.

The thing is, it's not like Steve has been pining away for a love long lost in the intervening years, and neither has Eddie. They've both had longterm, serious relationships; Steve almost got married. But for Steve...Eddie is the one that's lingered, the one that knocks around his ribcage on late sleepless nights, the one that makes him dream of what might have been. Because Steve truly loved his other partners, but Eddie--nobody will ever compare.

Someone is knocking a rhythm at his front door, and he can't stifle his smile even as his heart runs riot in his chest.

"Hey, man," he says, remarkably nonchalant as he takes Eddie in. Still beautiful, still brimming with energy; his smile wide and dimpled, bouncing on his toes.

"Harrington!" Eddie grabs him into a quick side hug, slapping his back. "Since when do you wear glasses?"

Steve chuckles, touching the horn-rimmed frames. "Oh, god, Robin forced me to get them back in '87? Too many concussions." He touches his forehead. "I usually just wear contacts."

"It's a good look," Eddie says. He's very much not looking at Steve, eyes roaming around the Chicago apartment he's been to many times before.

He watches as Eddie spots the display of his own books, index finger slowly slipping across the spines in a way that makes Steve remember when those same fingers would slide down his spine. He stifles a shiver, turns towards the kitchen.

"So, how's New York? How's the book coming?"

"Livin' the dream." It's not flippant, not like how most people mean it. Eddie leaks genuineness, always has. "The book though...it's a little rough."

Steve sets the coffee maker going, brings fresh pastries and a couple plates over to the table. "I can imagine. It doesn't--it doesn't have to be the same, you know?"

"Yeah, if only I hadn't written three other books leading up to the evil mind wizard," Eddie chuckles. He grabs a croissant and tears it in half. "It'll be alright, Harrington. I'll figure it out. I lived through it the first time, after all."

Steve doesn't remind him that he almost didn't, that they almost didn't. Instead, he pours coffee, listens as Eddie talks about how to fictionalize the worst month of their collective lives.

He splashes milk into Eddie's coffee, taps in three scoops of sugar. He carries it to where Eddie waits, still talking about the logistics of Vecna-slash-Henry-slash-One in his novel, but his words abruptly stop as his hands wrap around the porcelain.

"Steve?"

It's only then that Steve realizes what he's done--made Eddie's coffee like he took it back then, made it without thinking, totally on muscle memory, when the best of his mornings were spent in Eddie's arms.

His cheeks glow crimson and he grips at the back of his neck. "S-sorry." He says. "It--is this still how you take it?"

"Yeah." Eddie's eyes fall from Steve's face, his own cheeks pink. "It's--yeah. Still the same."

"I'm sorry--"

"--Steve, I--"

They don't laugh. They both stop speaking and look at each other, faces still red. Steve thinks there's nothing for it but to get it all out now.

"I'm sorry, Eddie." He takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry I never came back. I'm sorry I didn't explain why. I'm just--really, really sorry."

Eddie's eyes are hooked on the table top, fingers twisting and twisting his coffee mug. "Can I--why? I waited and you--why?"

Steve swallows, but it gets stuck in his throat, and now he's the one who can't look up from his hands.

"My parents got home early," he manages. "My dad, he was waiting for me. I guess one of the neighbors thought it best to tell them who I'd been spending my time with."

Silence falls over the table, and he chances a look up at the man across from him, the one whose knuckles bite into his lips, whose eyes shine with unshed tears.

"You should've called me. You should've--you could've stayed with us. We would've kept you safe."

"Eddie, I couldn't. I physically couldn't," the admission costs him so much.

"Steve," Eddie chokes on his name, voice nothing but anguish. "Did anyone--You could've--you were all alone."

He shakes his head. "Robin knew. She snuck through my window to take care of me, but my parents--I couldn't--" This time the words really won't come. "We made a plan. We started that job at Family Video, and we saved up our money."

Now, Eddie's face is creased with grief. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry."

Steve shakes his head, smiles despite the wreckage around his heart. "You have nothing to be sorry for, baby. I left you with no explanation. I broke your heart. And--and--" He thinks, what does it hurt to say it at this point. "I love you. I love you so much. I convinced myself you were better off without me, that we could have a clean break and you could get over me."

Eddie's hands cover his face, muffle the sob that slips out. "Get over you?" He whispers. "There's never been one like you, sweetheart."

He slides around the table to kneel at Eddie's side. "Hey." Deep brown eyes stare back at him, Eddie's face wet with tears. "It's always you, Ed. Always. I didn't want to say anything, if you had moved on, but--"

There's not really any transition from them talking to them kissing; Steve slips into it like he did all those years ago, when he first asked for Eddie's kiss. Their mouths slot together, their bodies fit like they always used to, perfect puzzle pieces. Steve's knees give out at the first brush of Eddie's tongue, and they collapse into a heap on the kitchen floor. Even then, they don't part.

Eventually, Steve does break the embrace, face flushed and hair a disaster, glasses hanging off one ear. "Okay, trying to be responsible here. Should we take a pause, go on a date first? Slow down?"

"Nine years isn't slow enough?" Eddie's pupils are blown, hair frizzed around his head.

"When you put it that way," Steve can't help but laugh. "I just want to do right by you, Eddie. Make up for--everything."

Eddie grins down at him, that sunshine beam smile where his dimples pop. "Tell you what, how bout you take me to bed now, and I'll let you take me on a date tomorrow?"

"Oh, you'll let me?" Steve rakes a hand through Eddie's mane of hair. "I don't think you'll have any choice."

"You sure about that, Stevie?" Their lips are so close, the brush with every word.

"Uh-huh," Steve's having trouble keeping his eyes focused, overwhelmed by the sheer force of Eddie Munson. "Never letting you go again, Ed."

Surprise! Part 2! I genuinely had no intention on doing a follow-up, but so many of you asked so nicely that it gave me this idea. Sorry if I miss anyone in the tag list and thank you for reading! @everywherenothere @tiny-enthusiast @emma-elsa-0000 @fuzzyduxk @moonythepluviophile @anaibis @rhapsodyinalto @bunk12bear @tillystealeaves @velocitytimes2 @s-trawberryv-eins @marklee-blackmore @ignoremyworld @its-a-me-a-morgan @goodolefashionedloverboi @starman-jpg @djohawke @adaydreamaway08

[kodared]

✰ Stanford & Borrower/Anomaly Reader ✰

fears not enough they have to tear him apart.

Chapter 3/?

Wordcount: 2,557 / 7,296

➤ Summary Based on the borrowers of many universes! I hope you enjoy it, and if you don't know about borrowers, let me be your guide into a world I've loved since I was young. ✰Written because I saw the severe lack of borrower content in Gravity Falls fanfic, i hope you enjoy <3 ✰ - ★Updates irregularly! I write when I want ★ ★ - Also on AO3! - ★

!!! CONTENT WARNING FOR VIVID DESCRIPTION OF PANIC ATTACKS. !!!

...

More than anything you wanted to get away from this human. Your hands finally weaseled their way out of his vice grip as you pushed at his fingers that held down your body. His thumb still pressed across your shoulders painfully as you tried to pry him off. 

“Let GO!-“ 

Ignoring his question you let out a strangled cry, if you weren’t so frantic and lightheaded you might have believed the expression on his face to be pure shock and awe. 

“I'm afraid I can't do that, you'll just take off running and I would like to ask you a few questions,” 

That was the point of being put down you quipped back in your head. Your voice lost among your emotions as you screamed internally, not wanting to give this scientist the satisfaction of a response. Your hands still pushing at his digits that curled uncomfortably around you. It was pathetic really. Being able to be pinned by the simple act of being held. His grip wasnt even all that tight anymore, adding insult to injury. 

The sheer power the human held over you just by existing made you dizzy and nauseous. 

He seemed to be lost in thought as he watched you push and practically claw at his pointer finger. He made no move to pin your hands down again so you assumed you weren't doing much damage to your dismay. 

That damned jar once again was lifted and set on the desk, before you could stop it you felt his hand tilting so your legs faced the opening. 

You tried to stop it by pushing a foot on the rim, but it was no use. All it took was Ford letting go and gravity pulled you down into the glass with a small thud. 

Your injured ankle took the brunt of the force, making you stifle a scream as you landed painfully into the glass. All the while the human just pulled his journal closer and wrote. 

Stumbling on your feet you leaned against the front of the glass, your hands balling into fists as you hit the thick and cold glass. 

“There, now that I'm not holding you does that help?” 

It almost made it worse. Atleast he wasnt picking up the jar and taking you down into his lab. 

He wasnt speaking, keeping his eyes trained on you and your heaving form. You could feel the beads of sweat practically rolling down your face. 

You were stressed. You could feel the buzz of a panic attack under your skin, your fists no longer hitting the glass as you tried to calm your frantic breathing. 

Standing was too much to ask of your body too it seemed as your knees buckled and you fell into the cold floor again. 

You only realized Ford was still speaking to you when you finally looked back up and saw almost a panicked expression on his face. Your ears rang painfully loud as you tried so hard to focus on what he was saying. 

Ultimately it didn't matter because right as you started looking up at him he seemed to panic more. Helpless to stop him you watched as he stood from his desk and you physically recoiled. Half expecting him to pick up the glass and take you down to his lab the moment you stopped being useful. 

He didn't do that though to your surprise. He just left the room. You thought that would calm you down but it didn't, the panic in your chest still raged on. 

The once uncomfortable buzz under your skin had now circled its way to your lungs. Your breathing was labored and frantic, the only comfort coming from the freezing glass walls of your prison as you pressed against it. 

Small droplets of tears glided down your face, leaving an uncomfortable dryness in their wake. You curled up as small as possible, your knees pressing to your chest. 

You had been caught. 

Your fate was sealed. 

He would drop you off at some lab for more testing if he didn't do it himself. He was probably calling someone to get you now. 

Unbeknownst to you at the moment he was making a call, but not a call to any scientist. He was making a call to the most brilliant mechanic he knew for help. 

…

It felt like it took forever for the human to come back. You didn't exactly trust your time perception at this moment though, he could've only been gone for a few minutes for all you knew. 

You stayed curled in your tight ball as you heard him sit back down at his desk. Your body is tense and awaiting him to do something. He was most definitely looking at you, no doubt writing whatever he could into his journal. 

You didn't look at him. Straining your still ringing ears to try to pick up anything that could clue you into what he was doing. 

You could most definitely hear his pen scratching away at a page in his journal. He wasnt speaking to you directly which wasnt as big of a relief as you thought it would be. 

Why did he leave the room? That was your biggest question in all honesty. 

A few more moments of silence passed between the two of you. The only sound was your strained breathing that you doubted the human could hear anyway. 

Your shoulders tensed as his voice was once again reverberating around you. Still in a whisper despite how loud it was regardless. 

“...It didn't seem to have any claws, how would It have survived in the wilderness.. Does it have some sort of venom? No, if it did-” 

…Ah. Muttering to himself. Honestly, the mark of someone who was completely sane was when they mumbled to themselves. 

You screwed your eyes shut as you blocked out what he was saying. Especially when he insisted on referring to you as an ‘it’. 

You were about to yell at him, to tell him to shut up when your ears heard a loud knocking coming from the front door. 

So he had called more scientists after all. 

The creaky wooden chair he sat on squealed against the hardwood floor as he stood. Your hands clamping over your sensitive ears before the panic that had just begun to dissipate picked back up tenfold. 

His hand reached for the jar. 

Denial. 

There was no way he was just going to turn you into the others so quickly. He had only just discovered you. Surely he hadn't taken enough notes yet to be satisfied. 

You reeled backward, your ankle screaming its protests as well as your lungs. The oxygen your brain craves so much is being exhaled much too quickly to be fully processed. 

His hand closed around the Jar. Making your body sway unsteadily as you saw the desk below you rising. The glass flooring heavily disorients you. 

Anger. 

What reasoning did he have to uproot you from your life? You weren't harming anyone. You were being turned into some scientist to experiment on you just for being born. You hadn't asked for this. 

You had just as much control over being born a borrower as he had being born a man. You didn't choose this life. 

Your hands hit against the glass as more tears began to go down your face. Hitting the floor of the jar with a faint clink. 

The human seemed none the wiser to your protests. His other hand going to cover the top of the jar as he swiftly left his room. 

Bargaining. 

Your whole body was shaking. The desperation finally made you find your voice as it cracked. 

“Let me out!- I'll talk!- I can-... I can tell you more! Don't you want answers? I can give answers!-” 

You rambled to yourself through choked sobs. The reality of your situation hits you like a ton of bricks. 

The human didn't stop walking to the main room. You both were now at the stairs when he finally acknowledged you. 

“We can all talk in a moment,” 

His voice was smooth as if he was zoned in on one task and one task alone. 

Depression. 

The realization that you couldn't stop him put a new weight on your chest as you fell into the glass wall. Not from your shaky legs surprisingly. The human just wasnt holding the jar with the most care it seemed. 

You tried to put on a brave face as he set your glass prison on the kitchen table. You were back where it all started. 

You should've been more careful that night. He should have never seen you. You should have never moved into this cottage. More than anything you regretted not being able to see your family again. 

You could hear the front door open as a second pair of footsteps joined Ford in the kitchen. 

You prepared yourself for the worst. So when you looked up and met the eyes of his colleague you stilled. 

“...You put them in a JAR?-” 

You hadn't expected that.

Ford seemed shocked at his assistants' outburst. Floundering for an excuse. 

“It was the best option! It didn't want to be held and if I put it down it wouldve-”

You could only imagine how rough you looked based on how the other human's expression softened when you flinched at the humans raising their voices. 

The other scientist Ford invited over had a very thick Southern accent. You never really heard an accent like his unless you counted the shows Ford occasionally played much too loud. 

Thinking back on it this human might have made him watch said shows. 

He took his thin-framed glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. Agitated with his companion. 

“You called sayin’ they looked ill, it's not hard to see exactly why.” 

It clicked in your head now. Ford must've seen your panic as some sort of illness rather than the emotional trauma he was inflincting. 

“I wasnt causing it any harm! It even understands English, do you know how big of a find this is!” 

Ford was trying his hardest to explain his reasoning to Fiddleford. He only wanted answers from the smaller being. Fiddleford put his glasses back on and directly addressed the creature in the jar. 

You watched as he crouched down by the table, causing you to push yourself backward. Pressing against the glass as hard as you possibly could to put distance between the two of you. 

“M’terribly sorry for all this. Do you have a name? Mines Fiddleford. Fiddleford Mcgucket,” 

He didn't reach for the jar, he didn't even get closer to examine you. He just sat still, patiently waiting for you to respond. 

Ford interjected. 

“I already tried talking to it directly, but it gave me no response apart from when we were on the stairs and it was just babbling-” 

“y/n.” 

Both the humans in the room froze at your weak voice. Of course, it was rough and scratchy from your prior sobbing, but they heard it regardless. 

“Thats.. That's my name.” 

You could see the way Fiddlefords mouth pinched into a small smile. Almost one of pride at being able to get a response from you. 

Ford didn't look upset, but he most definitely wasnt pleased at the thought of the creature preferring Fiddleford over him. After all, he had been the one to discover it, it should want to talk to him. 

“Pleased to meet ya, I would offer you a handshake but… Well, I doubt you'd be able to shake more than my pinky” 

His chuckle soothed you slightly. Your chest still felt tight, reminding you of just how terrible you looked probably as you wiped your tears away finally. 

You even caught yourself trying to smile out of politeness before resting your shaking hands in your lap. 

You could see the way Fiddlefords eyebrows pinched together in concern. 

“Do ya need any water? How long have you been in there?” 

“I uh-” 

Neither of the humans heard you as Ford stepped forward again and let out a sigh. 

“I’ve only had it in there for an hour or so, if we let it out it could run.” 

It most definitely felt longer than an hour. Time must’ve been moving faster since you were in such a panic. 

Your body instinctually tensed up as Ford stepped closer. Making Fiddleford finally snap as he stood from his crouch. 

“I need a word with you alone,” 

He didn't even wait for Ford to respond before yanking him by the sleeve out of the room. Leaving you alone once more as you heard the front door slam. 

…

“Ford. Ya can't just trap someone in a jar and expect them to be okay. Mentally and physically speakin’.” 

Ford was being actively chewed out and by his assistant no less. 

He crossed his arms across his chest defensively. His hands tightened on his forearms. 

“I never hurt it! I only asked it a few questions, even the Gnome was calmer than it!” 

“The Gnome was an entirely different situation! You asked him if he wanted to come with you! You just found this… What did you call them?” 

“Parva persona.” 

Fiddleford ran a hand through his hair before reaching into his jacket and pulling out his tobacco. Ignoring the way Ford groaned to himself as the mechanic put a bit in his lip. 

“Whatever. Not their name anyway. And while yer’ at it quit callin’ them an it. It's dehumanizing.” 

Ford unfolded his hands and threw them in the air before gripping the railing of his porch. 

“Exactly my point Fiddleford! They’re not human! It's abnormal! By all rules of science, it shouldn't even be possible for something as small as it to exist!” 

Fiddleford spit a bit of his chewing tobacco off the porch before slowly getting more agitated with his partner. He could be so smart but so dumb most of the time. 

“What makes something deserving of basic decency Ford? Because ill tell ya’, its normally when they look human but smaller and can speak English. I think you even treated the Gnome with more dignity! You didn't trap him in a jar!” 

Ford didn't quip back saying he did put the gnome in a cage after questioning it for a few days to research it. He just sighed and looked off into the woods. 

“...I just don't want my discovery to run off if we let it out. If it runs I don't think ill get another opportunity for answers.” 

“Why not just talk to them? M’sure you could get them to hang around, you’d just have to accept getting answers slowly. An while yer at it stop puttin’ em in jars.” 

…That might work. If Ford could make some sort of connection with it he could get more answers than just interrogating it in the jar. Ford could see the look in his eyes and before he could stop it the other man was already going back into the cottage. 

With a heavy groan, Fiddleford spat out the last of his tobacco off the porch into the grass before following him. 

He had a feeling this would be a long night with no sleep. For both him and the creature in the jar.

. . .

TAGLIST: @i-am-tiredd

Thank you so much for reading!! More updates soon :)

[deviousdeliciousness]

A Teasing Giant - G/T Story Prompt

A giant who likes to tease constantly and is painfully oblivious in all the wrong ways (for the tiny's mental well-being and continued sanity, that is).

A captured tiny (A sacrifice? Maybe their community said that the tiny made the choice willingly so the giant takes that to mean that the 'offering' was into this sorta thing or something hA nOPE) who has a 100% stone face that shows none of their terror that they most definitely feel, and they only speak when they know their voice won't shake so as not to give themselves away (maybe they don't want to give the giant what they think it wants - their terror) and is what the giant calls 'feisty.'

Misunderstandings and angst galore! Potential for resolution genuinely possible! Angst/Comfort sure to ensue!

Huhuhuh

Poor bb tiny ;-;

Good for us readers tho XDDD

Side Note: I shall return to writing my actual fics here instead of just throwing out random story prompts.... eventually...

[torakan]

part three

i didn’t write this as a text, i’m sorry, a bit stuck with the second one, but i hope you’ll like the art ^^

part two

part four

same but written

@gtzel

[mbat]

this was an idea i had last year that i found in my files and decided to revive. woe, angst be upon ye

[sugarsweetvirgo]

ANGST!?

It's still in the oven but we're cooking over here 🍽️🍳

[st4rsinthenight]

★..random g/t thought. again.★

— CW: Dehumanisation, infantalization (?)

★So, I'm imagining a tiny yelling at a giant because they are so so so fed up by the way that they are acting with them, coddling them, treating them like a baby or heck even— a pet, rather than a person who has their own conscious decisions, all because of their small size. Though, as they are frustratingly screaming their little heart out— the tiny is unaware to the fact that their little protests are not being heard and in fact, to the giant's point of view, their heartfelt angered words sound nothing short off like..squeaks. Squeaks that makes the giant let out a little a laugh, finding their miniscule noises rather funny, as they do not realising that their tiny friend/captive (ect) is actually mad at them.

Or even if they did notice that the tiny was angry with them— or acknowledge their disapproval as to how they they treat them, I doubt that they'd be able to hold back their amusement, as while knowing that they are upset and done with them, they still view the tiny as a cute helpless and harmless little creature.

Y'know when a pet is annoyed and the owner can't help but find it funny ?? That's what I'm going for with this.

They may even coo a bit at sight of the tiny persistently stomping their foot on the counter/table/floor (you name it) as they go on and on with their annoyed grumbling, only stopping to glare confusingly at the giant once their chortle rumbles through their form.

Excellent candidate for angst I think erm. I'm normal, I believe.★

[timetoletmyimaginationfly]

Welcome And Goodbye

Nanami Kento x Reader

(Song: welcome and goodbye by Dream, Ivory)

It’s been three years. Three years since he returned back to Jujutsu High.

Three years without you.

You both had the same mindset after the death of Haibara when you were in your first year as students. Having to risk your life as a jujutsu sorcerer felt too much of a burden, especially for you. You two didn’t realize it until later; how much of an impact Haibara made into your lives until the break up. He was the reason that you and Nanami became a couple for six years. The reason why you two left behind the life of a sorcerer. However, once Nanami returned, his death became the reason of the break up.

Nanami arrived home late again. He hated staying out late for work. It was seldom, but he knew you were going to worry yourself out. He stopped at Jujutsu High after his mission for Shoko to heal his injury.

He found his dinner on the table, wrapped up for him to eat when he arrived home. He looked at the counter filled with papers, textbooks, and your laptop. Guilt crept in him. Quietly, Nanami walked inside the shared bedroom. He found you curled up in a ball, fast asleep. The closer he walked to you, the more he saw the tears that stained your cheeks. He hated it. Especially because he was gone so late, he knew you cried so much with worry.

When he sat down, you felt the bed dip and woke up. You jumped up and wrapped your arms around him. You couldn’t help but cry. You couldn’t help but worry about the possibility of death happening to him. However, you knew the consequences when he decided to return.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly and kissed your forehead.

“I’m just glad you’re home safe.”

He remembered that week all too well. Three years later, it plays over and over in his mind. He remembered you two sitting on the couch, wanting to talk about the relationship and his job. He remembered the tears that you tried to hold but failed to. He remembered you mutually agreeing about breaking up. He remembered it all, detail to detail. The broken look on your face, what you wore, how your hair was. He remembered packing his things. The last time you two made love and kissed before he left to stay with Gojo until he found himself his own place.

He wonders everyday if you were doing okay. But he knows that you are. You still lived in the same apartment. You worked overnights at the hospital. You still attend the same school and you’re at your last year of it. He knows the café you visit frequently because he saw you a year later when he needed something to eat. So every now and then, he goes there to pay for your coffee and snack before you got there.

“I don’t see why you can’t go up to her and just say hi,” Gojo said. Nanami sighed, turning the page of his newspaper.

“She has her new and better life,” Nanami answered. “Besides, as long as I know that she’s okay, that’s all that matters.”

“But you won’t know unless you ask. She’s good at putting up a mask. And you know it. You just read her well.” Nanami was silent. Sometimes, Gojo does have a point.

“Do you talk to her?” he asked curiously.

“Of course! You know, I had her meet my students. She gives them great insight.” Gojo’s smile was wide. Nanami was surprised. He didn’t think you would keep in contact with anyone. But, Gojo was the one who kept tabs on you for him during the recent stage of the break up. It only made sense that you and Gojo would talk to each other now and then.

Nanami made it to the café again. He paid for your future order and sat in the corner, drinking his own cup of tea as he read the newspaper.

He found you walking inside. He enjoys the surprise look on your face when you found your order paid and ready to go again. He couldn’t help but smile to himself. You sat at the opposite side of the café where the windows were. You always love being by the sunlight. You were typing continuously. He could assume that you were typing a paper. Nanami thought of ways to approach you, but stopped himself every time.

The next time he looked up, he found a man sitting down in front of you. His heart sank. You smiled widely at him and laughed at whatever he said. He wanted to leave. He wanted you to be happy, but he didn’t want to see it with another man.

“Hello?” you said, answering a sudden phone call. “Satoru?” The name coming out of your mouth made his ears perk. He couldn’t help but look up just a bit. “I might be a bit late. Later.” He couldn't help but wonder when you called Gojo by his first name, too. Panic settled within him.

You stood up and packed your things, and told the guy that you’re heading out. Nanami watched the man lending you his sweater but you politely declined. The man was persistent and Nanami smiled as you continued to reject the offer. He could safely assume that you weren’t interested.

As you left, Nanami stood up. He folded the newspaper and threw his empty cup in the garbage. He left the café, deciding to go home and not continue to see you what you were going to do with Gojo.

“Hey there, stranger.” The sound of your voice surprised him. He slowly turned around and found you hugging yourself warm and giving him a shy smile. “It’s been a while.”

“Y-Yeah. How did you—“

“It’s not everyday that a tall man with blonde hair comes in the café. You’re not hard to miss, especially with that tie of yours,” you said with a small laugh. Nanami couldn’t help but smile back. There you were, finally in front of him three years later.

“I…I um…” You were the only one who could get him flustered like this. It still amuses him to this day.

“Thank you. For the coffee and snacks,” you said.

“How did you know?”

“I only realized it a few months ago. I noticed you the day it was paid for. I…I didn’t know how to approach you.”

He called out your name. His voice was soft and gentle. Your heart fluttered at the sound of his voice. It was music to your ears. You had to stop yourself from touching him, from holding his hand. You were dying for his touch and kisses. Everyday for the past three years.

You thought about him every day. You were heart broken that day. Nanami Kento wasn’t just your lover but also your best friend. He knew you inside and out. He knew you more than you knew yourself. But after your talk with him three years ago, the worry was too much where you agreed to end the relationship while he didn’t want you to worry. And you regretted it ever since. Because no matter how happy everyone sees that you were, deep down you still weren’t.

Nanami watched you shiver again. Swiftly, he took his suit jacket off and placed it around your shoulders. You felt weak from his smell. You missed him too much.

“You should hurry. Gojo-san is waiting,” he said sadly and quietly.

“Satoru can wait,” you said. He watched the tears form and he watched you hold them in. “You seem to be doing great though. Kicking ass I bet.”

“Yeah, I guess I am,” he replied softly.

“Kento, I—-“ You blushed, you haven’t really said his name in a while too. It felt foreign but it also felt so right. You lost your train of thought. Nanami usually has that effect on you.

“Do you have time then? I-I really missed you and…”

“Follow me.” And so he did. Nanami followed you for a few blocks. He realized that you were leading him to your place. “Want some tea?”

“Please.”

It was the same as it was, except there were no pictures of the two of you around the apartment. The couch was new and even the table yet the layout and arrangement never changed. He went in the kitchen with you. He sat at the high chair at the counter, watching you heat up water in the kettle.

“The truth is, I’ve been training with Satoru for the past two years,” you confessed. “I told him not tell you because I wasn’t ready to see you just yet.” Nanami’s eyes widened.

“So…a-are you coming back?” he asked.

“Somewhat? Not completely,” she answered.

“What made you change your mind?” You knew that he wanted to protect the younger sorcerers. You couldn't say no to him for that reason. Strangely, you missed the action. You missed helping people in need. It was why you decided to go into the healthcare field but sometimes, it just wasn't the same.

“I miss helping people,” you answered. “But I also miss the action. That was fun.”

“What about school? You worked hard.”

“I’ll still do it,” you said. “I still don’t want to be a sorcerer forever.” Nanami nodded. He understood. It was the same for him.

“Itadori-kun has a lot of potential,” Nanami said. You nodded.

“A lot of growth is needed for him. But Satoru has promising students."

“So, you train and partake in missions?”

“No missions. Just training and teaching whenever I can.”

“I never noticed you.”

“I haven’t either.”

It was quiet again for the two of you. You went back and turned the stove off. You poured hot water in two tea cups and gave each other black tea bags. Nanami quietly thanked you and blew at the hot liquids.

You texted Gojo. You were going to cancel the training session. All he did was text you good luck. You feel like you know Gojo well enough that he knows that you’re with Nanami.

You vented to Gojo a lot. And he’ll tell you the same thing every time. To go and talk to him. You had it all planned out today. But the moment you stood in front of him, everything you planned for was gone. So for a while, the two of you drank your tea with content silence until it was prolonged and awkward. Nanami looked at the time and stood up from his seat.

“I should head back,” he said. You looked at the time. It was already eight. And you knew Nanami. It was almost time for him to get ready for bed.

“R-Right,” you said, disappointment evident in your voice and it didn’t go unnoticed by him. He slowly got ready to go. By the time he was at the door, the two of you two remained silent. Both of you wanting to tell each other to stay.

“I’ll see you around,” he said and turned around. He immediately felt you grab his wrist. He turned around and the moment he saw your tears, he pulled you into his arms.

“I missed you too, Kento,” you said, replying to his statement from the café. “I missed you so much. I regret it. I never should’ve left. I should’ve tried harder and—“ His grip on you tightened.

“I never should’ve brought it up,” he said. “I never…I should’ve…fuck. I missed you so much.”

The two of you remained like that for a while, with you in his arms and his face buried in the crook of your neck. When he pulled away to look at you, he cupped your face and used his thumbs to wipe your tears away. You couldn’t help but smile from his comfort. Nanami smiled back and rested his forehead on yours. You two took in the comfort that was missed for the past few years.

“I never stopped loving you,” he confessed.

“I love you too, Kento. So, so much.”

He captured your lips. He closed the door and lifted you up. You wrapped your arms around his neck and legs around his waist. Nanami carried you to your bedroom. Gently, he laid you down, lips still glued to each other. He gently bit your lower lip and caressed the side of your body. You softly moaned at his touch. You loosened his tie and unbuttoned shirt. Nanami was the first to pull away. He admired your flushed and breathless look. He smiled softly and gave you soft kisses all over your face.

“Have you ever…was there ever anyone else?” he asked curiously. You shook your head.

“Just you Kento. How about you?” Your answer made his smile wider. He captured your lips again before replying the same answer you gave him. And the two of you stayed up together, catching up on the three years missing each other.

The sunlight shining through the thin curtains stirred you awake. Memories of last night flooded your mind and you blushed as you turned around. Next to you was Nanami. You smiled, missing his serene and sleepy face in the mornings. You couldn’t help but softly brush his hair back. Nanami smiled and slowly opened his eyes.

“Good morning, darling,” he greeted, voice hoarse and tired.

“Good morning.”

“Come here.” He opened his arms and you eagerly went to him. Nanami gave you soft kisses on your shoulders, up to your neck, then to your lips. You shuddered and sighed in content. “After last night, I'm not leaving you ever again."

“I wouldn’t let you,” you said.

“Do you have class?” he asked curiously. You nodded and told him that it started in a couple of hours. “I’ll drive you. Go get ready then we could go to my place and I can do the same.” You got up out of bed and walked to your closet. You pulled out clothes, but what surprised him were also clothes that he left at your place.

“They were in the laundry. I couldn't throw them away,” you said. “We can spend more time together before we go now.” Nanami got up and hugged you.

Students couldn’t help but stare at the two of you, especially at Nanami. Nanami carried your bag and held your hand. You guided him to the building, excitedly telling him about your semesters in school.

“What are your plans for today?” he asked.

“This is my only lecture, but I go to lab and practice skills for about an hour. Then the library to study. If Satoru calls me, I might train instead. I have work tonight, too.” You pouted at the idea of work. You hated working and going to school. It was tiring, especially when you train with Gojo. Now being back with Nanami, you were contemplating on calling out tonight. It has been a while.

“Call me. I might be able to pick you up," Nanami offered. “I’m going on a mission with Itadori-kun, but it shouldn’t take too long.”

“Text me when you get to the place and let me know when you’re done?”

“Of course, love.” He walked you all the way to your classroom. He gave you back your backpack and pulled his wallet out to hand you his credit card.

“Wait, Kento—“

“When you need coffee and food,” he said. “I know you need the coffee.” When you didn’t take the card, he sighed and took your hand and placed it there. “Let me take care of you again. I miss it.” You couldn’t help but smile.

“Okay,” you said happily. “I’ll see you later.”

“I love you, darling.” Nanami gave you a soft kiss.

“I love you, too.”

[racheyace]

Why Can't I Be Normal?

Size shifter short story featuring my beloved OC Luke. Poor Luke has a bad dream followed by an emotional outburst; lucky he has his family there to support him. Approx 2.8k words.

The world was so small around him, he looked around at the destruction he had caused, buildings had crumpled under his destructive hands, flattened houses that used to belong to his neighbors, gone. He could hear screams, but they were distant, he didn’t know what happened, only that everything around him was broken and it was his fault. There were tiny people littered like ants for as far as he could see and they scattered around him, all crying and running away from him.

“Luke!”

The frightened ten-year-old boy scanned the chaos around his feet and his eyes landed on his mother, tiny, broken, bleeding and stuck under a large piece of debris, he reached down to help free her, but he paused when she screamed in fear.

“D-Don’t hurt me!” She sobbed, Luke’s heart was racing, she looked at him like he was a monster.

“Luke!” She called for him again with urgency, but he didn’t know how to help her without scaring her or hurting her further, his heart ached.

“M-mum, I-I can’t-.”

“Luke!

“Luke! Baby, wake up!”

Luke’s eyes snapped open, he was covered in a cold sweat and shaking like a leaf, he had been so scared, but it had only been a dream, just a nightmare. He stared at the ceiling that looked much closer than it should have been, his eyes only a foot or two away from the tiny light globe, his heart began to race again but he dared not move.

“Mum?” He called out carefully, he must have grown in his sleep, but how?

“Luke, try to stay calm for me, okay?” He could hear her small voice, but he couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from, he felt his body tighten again and he groaned in pain.

“Mum what’s happening to me!” He had never shifted in his sleep before and he was scared, his voice shook the foundations around him, and the ceiling got closer, his eyes widened, he was still growing, and he was still in the house, this was not good.

“Luke turn your head this way, I’m right here.” Her voice was closer now, coming from his right side and he turned his head carefully in that direction. His mother stood beside his face, brown hair in a frazzled mess from sleep swept her shoulders and she wore mickey mouse flannelette pajamas, they were her favorite, she looked worried but not scared like she had been in his dream.

“There baby, see, I’m right here, your okay, take some deep breathes for me.” Her voice was calm like water, and he instantly felt better, she had a way about her that kept him calm, and she was usually the one who helped him to shrink back to normal when he had bursts like this.

Still seeing her there beside him, so small in such a cramped space that was only getting smaller, frightened him, even her voice couldn’t stop the tight aches coursing through him.

“Mum I’m scared.” He whispered, letting the tears leak out of his large blue eyes, his fingers felt the floor beneath him, his bed utterly destroyed, and his toes wriggled in the broken plaster that had been the wall on the opposite side of his bed. He hadn’t outgrown the house…yet.

“I know honey, remember what we practiced, just focus and breathe.”

“Where’s Dad and Ivy? Are they okay? I-I didn’t hurt them?” His mind raced and his face paled at the thought of what he might have done, his little sister Ivy’s room was beside his, exactly where his feet were right now.

“They are both safe, they are outside. Luke, you need to concentrate.” She said this a little more sternly this time, her eyes the very same as his own focusing intently on him.

He nodded carefully and closed his eyes, he counted his breaths, in and out slowly. He winced as he felt another sharp tightening of his body and he opened his eyes again looking at his mother with fear dripping from him as he watched her shrink, becoming smaller and smaller before his eyes.

He felt his feet hit another wall and drew them up slightly, so his knees were touching the ceiling, not wanting to break through another wall and potentially completely destroy the house.

“I can’t. I c-can’t stop it.” He said urgently.

“Okay, listen to me very carefully, we’re going to get you out of here.” She took a step closer to him and he almost flinched back in fear, not out of fear of her but out of fear of hurting her if she got much closer.

“Luke, I want you to hold me in your hand-.” He was shaking his head before she’d even finished explaining.

“N-no, I can’t, I’ll h-hurt you.”

“You won’t, because you are gentle, I know you. Hold me in your hand and then with your other hand I want you to push through this wall here.” She gestured to the wall behind his head, there was a window there but much too small for him to fit through now.

“Can you do that?” She asked gently, he gulped unsure of himself but nodded anyway.

Carefully he moved his arm closest to his mother until he was in a position where he could touch her with his fingers. Then slowly he wrapped his hand around his mother as though she were one of his action figures before raising her up slightly and holding her securing to his chest.

He glanced down to make sure that she was unhurt, but she waved him on, urging him to keep going.

With his left hand he slowly reached up behind his head, careful not to bump the walls that were slowly closing in around him and gently pushed into the wall. His eyes widened at the small amount of pressure he had applied, and he’d created a hole already, so easily, his mother called for him to keep going.

Once he’d knocked down the wall completely, he was free to fit his shoulders through, and with great care using his feet and free hand, he wriggled himself along the ground through the hole and outside. Only when his feet had cleared the house by a few feet did he stop and sigh staring up at the starry sky.

He carefully lifted his hand from his mother, allowing her to climb off of him on her own, once she was safely on the ground and a good distance away, he sat up crossing his legs and surveying the damage. The house was still standing, for that he was grateful but the wall he had smashed through looked horrible, and he could see through the wall his feet had crashed through into Ivy’s room, everything was a mess.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered shakily, his hands lay limp in his lap and he wondered if it wasn’t a dream at all, maybe it was a reality, maybe he was a monster incapable of anything but destruction, he clenched his fists suddenly angry.

“Luke? How are you doing bud?” His father had come over to check on his wife and unique son, clutching a small six-year-old girl on his hip.

“I hate this.” He stood then without warning, shaking the ground beneath his parents and causing the horses over the boundary fence to whinny and flee from him.

“Why do I have to be this giant freak!?” He stamped his foot causing a small crater, his parents stepped back, giving the young boy room.

“And if I’m not a giant I’m tiny and useless!” He kicked at one of the oak trees sending it flying through the air and landing in a field off their property, he glanced at his parents, so far away and so small, he hated seeing them like this, it made him feel like a monster.

“Why can’t I be normal!” He was just about to kick at another tree, having felt better releasing his anger that way when he heard a small cry. It hadn’t come from either of his parents, they only looked on with wide eyes, his mother with her hand over her mouth and his father holding on tightly to a writhing child.

Ivy screamed again, thrashing against her father, tears streaming down her face, she was scared, her big brother had never scared her like this before, she’d seen him big, but he had always been so gentle with her. Why was he being so scary now? She wanted to run away.

She managed to loosen her father’s grip on her and land on the ground and then she ran away, in the opposite direction of the scary giant who was not her brother.

Luke planted his foot down carefully on the ground, sparing the tree as tears stung his eyes, he had scared her. Ivy, his sweet little sister that loved him no matter what size he was. She’d use him as a playground to climb all over when he was big, and carried him protectively when he was small, not letting anyone else touch him.

Seeing her so fearful of him broke his heart and he immediately stepped towards her, to follow her and explain that he would never hurt her.

“Luke don’t!” His father yelled below him, ignoring his father’s words, he stepped over both his parents and followed his sister to her favorite hiding spot, the tree house.

Ivy scurried up the ladder on shaky legs until she’d reached the safety of their tree house, this place was strictly off limits to grown ups and she knew the giant couldn’t reach her there, he simply wouldn’t fit.

Luke approached the tree house and knelt down in front of it, trying to peer through the small window to glimpse his sister. Ivy shrieked when a large blue eyed filled the window and she ducked down below the windowpane to avoid being seen.

“Get away!” She screeched as loudly as she could manage, she was tired and scared and alone, she wanted nothing more than for her brother to hug her and tell her she was okay, and brave. She didn’t feel brave right now.

Luke flinched at her words, they hurt his heart, his lips quivered, and he cried anew.

“Ivy I’m sorry I s-scared you, I didn’t mean to.” There was silence from within the treehouse, but Ivy opened her sweet brown eyes and listened to the sobbing giant right outside, sniffling herself.

“I was angry, I’m still angry but not at you, never at you. I’m mad at myself, I should be able to control this stupid thing, but I can’t, and I was so mad that I could have hurt you without meaning to. I don’t know what to do Ivy.”

Luke rested his head on the side of the treehouse, shaking the branches only slightly and being careful not to apply too much pressure afraid he might knock the tree down, he only wanted to be nearer to her.

“I need you.” He whispered through his tears.

Ivy listened as the giant began to sound more and more like her brother, and he was hurting, he was saying mean things about himself, and she couldn’t let that happen. It was her job after all to be brave for him and look after him, no matter what size he was.

She carefully stood back up again, her chubby fingers gripping the window frame, she peered back out of the window and was confronted with a freckle covered wet cheek. Carefully she reached out a hand to touch the warm slick surface before her, his tears smelled of salt and she felt him stiffen beneath her touch.

Carefully Luke moved back to look at his sister, her brown hair hanging in bouncy spiraled curls about her face, just like his own if he allowed his to grow longer. He could see the tear stains on her own freckled cheeks, and he allowed more of his own to fall free, he hated seeing her hurt so much, and even more knowing it was he who had hurt her.

“I’m sorry I ran away.” Ivy’s small voice reached his ears, she was twisting her feet where she stood and looking at him bashfully like she was admitting to doing the wrong thing.

He shook his head. “No Ivy, you were right to run away, I was being dangerous and I’m so sorry, I won’t ever do something like that again, I promise.” He raised a large pinky finger towards the window, close enough for her to reach.

She eyed the large digit and quirked a small smile, accepting the pinky promise by tapping it with her own impossibly small pinky against his. He smiled in return and sniffled softly letting his hands drop back down to his lap.

“You’re not normal.” Ivy said quietly, she had been thinking about what Luke had said when he was kicking the trees away and wondering what words she could use to make him feel better, and she thought of just the right ones.

“Your special.”

Luke smiled a little brighter upon hearing his sister’s words, she had been faced with a dangerous giant for a brother who had scared her into hiding but just as quickly had forgiven him and was doing her best to make him feel better. It was working.

“C-can I have a hug?” He reached out a hand, holding his palm level with the door of the tree house, asking for permission to hold her.

She nodded her head quickly with a grin and skipped over to the door where her brother’s large hand was waiting patiently, she stepped on board, her bare feet tickling his palm causing it to twitch a little under her.

Ivy stretched her arms out wide as Luke raised her up to his cheek, she clutched his skin like it was her lifeline and he brought his other hand up to press her gently there, reciprocating the hug in their own special way.

Luke felt a wave of calm come over him and his skin began to itch, Ivy’s hands on his face started to grow as he began to shrink back down again. Not wanting to let her go while he shrank, he held her with both hands circling her waist until she was the right size in his arms again and with renewed vigor, he clutched her to his chest tightly.

“You’re the special one.” He said to her as he placed her back on the ground, relieved to be back to normal, well as normal as he could get.

“Luke are you okay?” His father’s voice tore him back to reality and he turned to see his mum and dad walking towards them.

His parents had caught up to them and had been watching from a distance, letting the two have their moment. Karly had assured her husband that Ivy was the right person this time to help their son and she had been right.

“Yeah Dad, I’m really sorry about-.” Luke had started to say before David cut them off, waving away the apology like it had already been forgiven, all he wanted now was to hold both his children safely and he did just that, pulling them both into a hug.

“Thank you.” Luke whispered, tears spilling anew, he should be in huge trouble right now, not only did he destroy their house, but he’d kicked the trees down and scared the horses away as well as ignoring his parents when they tried to stop him from following Ivy. His father should have been furious with him, but he was so grateful that he wasn’t.

“Let’s get you both back to bed and worry about all this tomorrow, yeah?” Karly had joined her family in the hug at some point and embraced them tightly before releasing them and ushering them back to the house.

Looking at both the hole in his own bedroom and his sister’s, Luke glanced at his parents, unsure where exactly they would sleep that night, what was left of the night anyway.

“Can we sleep with you!?” Ivy was bouncing with excitement, their parents had been working hard at getting Ivy to sleep in her own room as of late, the two adults exchanged a look before coming to the agreement.

“Yes, you can both sleep with us, but just for tonight.” Their father relented.

Ivy bounced ahead of them straight through the hole in the wall like it was nothing and made her way skipping all the way to their parents’ room.

Luke wrapped an arm around his mother’s waist, snuggling his head into her chest as they walked, he was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to roll into bed with his family and sleep for a week.

Karly leant down and kissed the top of his head, holding her son close to her.

He was special, and she would make sure no matter how others treated him and no matter what things could possibly go wrong or were out of their control, that he would remain loved.

I’m not crying your crying! Poor Lukey baby, no more nightmares okay!

[zero-to-zero-to-zero-again]

Pocket-Sized Sidekick (3)

Part One Part Two

Word Count: 1,829

TW's: Fear, Accidental Fearplay, Violence, Injury, Implications Of Past Abuse, Threats Of Violence, Mentions of Cults, Medical Stuff, Panic

Characters: C!Ranboo, C!Technoblade, C!Dream, C!Philza, C!Wilbur

Summary: Ranboo's officially been de-masked in front of a group of villains. At least that means things can't get any worse...right?

Ranboo drew in a hissing breath between his teeth.

"Would you please sit still? I'm not used to doing stitches on people this small."

That was one of the first things Ranboo learned about Wilbur. He never held anything back. Frankly, it was becoming a challenge for Ranboo to hold back everything he wanted to say in retaliation. He'd been laying there getting stabbed by a needle nearly as tall as him for at least half an hour. Even with the attempt at numbing the area, it felt like an eternity.

"You did stitches on a cat once," the Blood God pointed out. He'd been idly clicking through something on the laptop sitting on the kitchen counter. Ranboo was surprised he'd been paying attention at all given how engrossed he'd seemed it whatever he was reading on that screen.

"You are aware that cats are larger than six inches tall, right?" Wilbur snapped.

"Small is small."

The brunette let out a frustrated huff.

"Phil told you not to bother me."

"He did but he was givin' me those 'don't let Wilbur out of your sight' eyes."

"He was not."

"You just don't notice because he's always got that look."

"Done!" Wilbur announced with a final snip. Ranboo could only assume that meant that was the last bit of thread being cut. Should he be thanking this guy for what he'd done? Sure, he'd tended to his injuries but he was still a villain. Thanking a villain was probably listed on the unspoken rules of being a hero right between being kidnapped by a villain and showing your face to a villain.

He slowly pushed himself to sit upright. His bruises still stung like crazy but at least the majority of his fractures had been dealt with and cuts bandaged. Wilbur never really shared his assessment of Ranboo's injuries but from the repetitive "Yeesh" 's from the villain, he could only imagine there was a lot of work to be done.

Wilbur scooped his jacket up off the back of the couch.

"Where are you going?" the Blood God demanded.

The brunette threw a guitar case over his shoulder.

"Out," he announced vaguely.

"Aren't you supposed to be looking after the kid?"

Wilbur rummaged through the cubbies next to the door until he uncovered a pair of keys from the clutter.

"Phil told me to clean him up. He's about as good as he's going to get so I'm out of here." Wilbur paused on the way out to shoot the Blood God a look over his shoulder. A coy smile tugged on his lips. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll be fine until Phil comes back. You're great with kids."

Wilbur managed to yank the door shut behind him just as a dagger lodged itself in the wood where his head was only seconds ago. The brunette's laughter retreated into the night, making way for a tense silence to fall over the house. Ranboo's teeth ground together.

He dared to sneak a peek at the villain sitting only a single room over. It was odd. Ranboo knew that Corvus was a supervillain but he walked around out of costume in his own house. That made sense. Wilbur was a villain by association at the very least but if he worked in the field, he probably had a costume too. Not once had he donned in it while Ranboo was there.

The Blood God, on the other hand, had yet to change out of that signature uniform of his. The cape, the skull, the gaudy boots. The whole package was admittedly a bit too extra to be typical loungewear. If it was all for the sake of ensuring Ranboo was kept on edge then, damn, it was working.

The boar's skull snapped in Ranboo's direction. The abrupt motion caused an instinctual reaction in the sidekick, sending him scrambling to focus on literally anything else in the room. The villain sighed.

"So why's Hero Corps exploiting child labor? Indoctrinating adults into their little cape cult get too pricey?" he asked.

Nothing about that question was accurate but it wasn't like Ranboo was in any position to correct him. He wasn't sure he was in a position to say anything, honestly. So he didn't.

"What, did that one hypno-hero hit you with a tongue tying spell or somethin'? What's he like? Fun at parties?"

The beats of silence passed at an agonizingly slow pace for both parties trapped within the tense atmosphere. The Blood God groaned.

"Come on, kid, give me somethin' here," he practically begged.

Ranboo shifted uncomfortably. There was nothing he could say that he wouldn't be reprimanded for when he got back to HQ. If he got back to HQ. As scary a prospect as that was, the fact that he was more likely to never get home was even scarier.

"W-why the skull mask?" Ranboo tried. Maybe if he couldn't answer questions, asking them would help pass the time a bit quicker for the both of them.

"What, this?" The Blood God asked, drumming his fingernails against hollow bone. Ranboo nodded meekly. The villain's insouciant demeanor went dismal all at once. "It's not a mask. It's just my face."

The sidekick's blood ran ice cold. He couldn't even hide his mortified expression when he turned back to the man in the kitchen. What? How was that even possible? Sure, people got bizarre mutations when super powers started popping up but this had to be one of the strangest ones that Ranboo had ever seen. Not even the attributes of a bore, just its skull where your head should have been? It made his stomach churn thinking about how that worked.

The Blood God snorted.

"I'm messing with you," he chuckled.

He was...oh. The sidekick's shoulders sagged. As indignant as Ranboo was to be toyed with, he had to admit that it was a relief knowing it was all a farce. He hadn't even realized his jaw had dropped open until he shut it with a click. He couldn't help but laugh, though his was more incredulous than a product of the Blood God's sense of humor-if you could even call it that.

"Just thought it was a cool gimmick, I guess. Didn't wanna look like every other loser in a mask and a cape. What about you? They force you to wear that fashion faux-pax of a suit or are you just really into gray?"

"It's a uniform," Ranboo said. He couldn't think of a single sinister thing that the guy could do with that sort of information beyond mocking him a little further.

"Of course it is. Is that where you get your shrinking power from, too?"

Ranboo stiffened. Momentary distraction over. The villain really was just trying to pry info out of him. Of course he was. That was literally his job. He wasn't really as mad at the guy for nearly getting him to give up some top secret Hero Corps info as much as he was at himself for almost doing it.

The way the color drained from Ranboo's face must have given away the answer to that intrusive question all the same.

"Don't mean to sound like a jackass but you don't really handle yourself like a hero who's used to being small. I mean, I did see you get punted across an alleyway so..."

Ranboo fought to keep his expression flat. Maybe that was the reason all those heroes wore masks; to hide just how scared the poor bastards behind them were. Ranboo wished more than anything that his helmet wasn't cracked to pieces so he could shove it back on and leave it there.

"If it's broken, we can try to fix it," the Blood God pointed out.

"No! You can't touch it!" Ranboo blurted, grabbing the suit from beside him and holding it in a white-knuckled grip. The last thing he needed was to hand over some of Hero Corps' most advanced tech to their most dangerous competition.

It took far too long for Ranboo to actually realize what he'd done. When it dawned on him, it hit him like a brick to the teeth. His heart stuttered in his chest. Maybe yelling at his villainous captor wasn't really the smartest idea. He knew what happened when he raised his voice. One of the first lessons he'd learned under Dream's guidance. And that was when he was a fairly normal height.

Standing only a few inches tall in front of someone with far worse intentions than his mentor's, he didn't stand a chance of making it out alive.

"Geez, alright. I was just offerin'," the villain muttered. "Figured this whole thing might be a little easier if you weren't six inches tall."

Sure, like Ranboo was going to believe that this guy had nothing but good intentions towards the hero's sidekick he had in his possession. Then again, he wasn't wrong about his height putting him at a stark disadvantage. At six inches tall, the Blood God could probably just pry the suit out of his hands. As a matter of fact, Ranboo couldn't wrap his head around why he had yet to try.

"Hey, are you-"

Vvv Vvv

Saved by the buzz. Whatever question the Blood God was about to ask was swiftly interrupted by the vibration against the counter. He grabbed his phone. He went tense when he saw the screen. Without a word, he rose to his feet and slid the window behind him open.

He double checked the laces on his boots and the sword sheathed on his hip. Ranboo flinched at the squawk from just beyond the house. Wings beat at the air, a crow dipping in straight through the open window to land on the counter.

"Lead the way," the Blood God instructed.

The black bird tilted its head, turning over its shoulder to stare straight at Ranboo. A chill crawled up his spine at the extra attention.

"Oh, right. You-uh-you stay here," the villain commanded with all the conviction of a man who'd never held a leadership position. "I gotta go help Phil but I'll be back real soon."

Ranboo could only nod in reply. The villain dawdled. He stared at Ranboo a while longer, the sidekick doing his best not to meet the supervillain's sweeping gaze.

"'kay. Let's go," he tried again. The bird let out an ear-shattering squawk before claiming its perch atop the Blood God's shoulder. He slid out the door, ensuring that he clicked the lock into place on his way out.

The hero-in-training swallowed thickly. The silence was even more deafening than before. This certainly wasn't on his bucket list. He was all alone in a supervillain's hideout.

His eyes darted about the vacant space, snagging on the window over the sink. Wait. He was all alone in a supervillain's hideout. The curtains waved in the breeze, beckoning him forward. He'd be a fool not to answer that call.

~

College is kicking my butt so upload schedule is insanely chaotic but thank you to everyone who waited for this next part! :)

[yohohonabottle]

The wicked sun and Orderly moon- "Twin Merlins" (Reposted from A03)

🖋️Summary: When the sun is gone, the moon dutifully watches over the land. When the sun comes- so does unprecedented chaos that the moon reigns back in order. Two entities from beyond yonder, both essentially intertwined and woven into the world's tapestry. 📖 Work status: Completed

[ ❗ ]TW: Violence (description of torture and gore) [ ❗ ] -------------- 🎧Songs recommended for this work: -> Sanctuary of Surasthana choir with cathedral effect -> Moolians - Gu-Zo-Su-Hi/Lyrical Devil plus some Danganronpa soundtracks -> Who lives, Who dies, Who tells your story ->Monodrama -> Kafka's theme -> Bequeathed to the beloved

---------------------- "Unbeknownst to the denizens of every contained world, there are countless entities looking on from afar. Like spectators, they watch them go through sorrows and triumphs akin to actors in a grand play. And beyond the rapt audience, are the ones whom brought the land into existence and wrote its intricate rules. Let's call them...'Directors', to follow along with the theater-performance analogy." 

—"Hey, weren't they the ones that 'make the dynamite strings'? Why're you running us through this again?" 

The campfire crackles and pops, its warm glow casting flickering shadows over the faces of the crew currently gathered. Two teams made up of various factions, some old and familiar faces while others are yet to be 'met'. Whether the personages are villains or heroes in the 'narrative' matters little here- Only their skills and respective attributes, and team role.

The first and primary team comprises of the favorites, the secondary experimental and seemingly random. The other five team members of the favorites glance over at their 'captain' as the deathly-pallid man pauses his tale-recounting, offering the disheveled sailor a light patient smile. Understanding, oddly knowing, as though he has overlooked a small but crucial detail in a rush. Along with a small note of apology, answer simple. 

—"Because it's important- For the newly aware, to not be lost and afraid as they notice out of place elements. And for those who have been 'awake' for longer, to have a better understanding of what you know. And if nothing else, then it's a nice ghost story." 

—"Sure, you could technically put it this way." -Berial's smooth and clear-ringing tenor calmly joins in to refute, pulling the attention to himself. The usually over-the-top babbling Hypogean wears an expression of reluctant tiredness so out of character for him, sitting cross-legged on the grass and with face slightly obscured by the brim of his top-hat.

It's like he's lost most of his energy, not in the mood for dramatics or any form of performing.

"But you know as much as us that this knowledge is, well- useless in the end. Simply knowing and understanding you two doesn't give any of us leverage, or peace." So why pull us through this? Weren't you unenthusiastic to share the secrets?

What happened?

Quietly, in the background Cassadee ponders to herself with a tome-thick notebook in her hands while the aspiring gem-magic wielder softly hums under her breath a happy calming tune, contemplative. Both had 'woken up' merely a day ago after having been kept on the shelf for months until they reached the highest hero tier and got their weapons upgraded, making them 'finally useful' for the Player. There's a sense of mild unease about the two girls from the experimental team, the distant but distinct memory of being at least a little favored clinging to their subconscious even to this day...since the very first time the 'sun' and 'moon' arrived in Esperia.

And then two days in the journey's first steps or three, that favor fell away.

On the other side of the campfire, Salazer contemplatively watches the lively dance of the flames, perfectly-curved smile missing as his mind walks through the current excerpt.

He is no stranger to the 'spectator' from beyond.

At first, he couldn't care any less in his initial assumption that the entity in question is merely some boogieman or an unruly, undisciplined peasant or slave.

Until the envelope arrived, sent by the Mystical House and he was yanked from home- Recruited. Became a unit. Then, standing face to face with the slim barrier, the cusp of the world he knows and the realm outside- Salazer found his enlightenment. His awakening, eyes opened to the much greater knowledge, despite having lacked an apt term for it. Then, in that fateful moment fleeting--The nobleman heard her voice crystal clear, neigh boom akin to that of a goddess in unassuming low-class appearance of a mortal adolescent. It was the very first time, that he was closely exposed to 'the sun', felt her emotions seep, ebb and flow through him, sent shivers down to his very bones. 

That day, the Graveborn aristocrat knew true power...And gripping fear, coupled with excitement. Partially his own, partially Rila's. There was a feeling of curious glee following after him, as he took down foe after foe in battle under the Player's unwavering gaze. Favored. 

And then that sensation of joy got lost, like a candle harshly blown out with no return. In its stead settled a strange coldness--Disinterest, perhaps even a hint of discontent.

What changed? Was his might not enough? Was his whip not good enough, lacked strength? Were his skills no longer adequate, up to her standards? -Such worries plagued the upperclassman for days, and still do. He's made it a point to very carefully track when the recruitment letters would be sent out, how many on the given day or night, at what hour-- And made sure to snatch at least one of them.

However the pattern is heavily inconsistent, infuriatingly so.

Sometimes the phenomenon would occur at quarter to past five o'clock in the morning, sometimes in the evening. Sometimes, at three o'clock both in the morning, afternoon and night. And some days would yield nothing at all, a long drawn-out radio silence.

It made keeping track impossible.

Furthermore, what has to be most frustrating- is that even when he does get a stroke of luck and finds himself standing at the barrier... His words fall upon deaf ears. Suddenly, all he can utter, is his one 'iconic' inquiry.

Like a parrot or a broken record. Thus the questions haunting his mind remain without answer. 

It's only today, or tonight, that Rila at last chose him for one fight. One fight alone, not even for the next retries of that same stage in the spire. Yet somehow he can acutely feel her influence and emotions still, in spite of the declined contact. The only other such entity of great power, is 'Pirin'. The 'moon' dutifully overseeing him and all the other units that have woken up. ...The moon that barely lingers, making his presence scarce with chance 'meetings' such as the current one being a rarity. Despite his role as Merlin in the sun's presence.  

Next to the pensive cruel nobleman, Cecia sits on her throne of thorns. Ever-hungry for more power, the Lady of Thorns was quick to understand that the Sun and Moon are beings capable of immense potential. The winning side that trumps everyone else. The former has been glimpsed of bringing entire worlds into existence in a single day, with nothing but words and a pencil on paper or with her own fingertips.

And subsequently crush those worlds in less. Twisting and bending the very reality into anything she wishes. ..For brief second a chilling feeling settles over the woman. Like words being woven together in this very moment. Is this moment, also, one of the many realities spun? Or is the reality they know being altered? Somehow the sensation melts away with the thought akin to salt dissolving in water.

As for the latter, he has only been glimpsed fleetingly to mend reality- restoring it to its initial order prior to his half's fit of mayhem and gleeful mischief, leaving it reverted seamlessly and the memories of the phenomenon wiped away from everyone's mind. The Weaver once was a witness prior to her disappearance and through the Syndicates' leader Cecia learnt about this ability. 

Not even on the next day, Illucia had no recollection of the events. 

To make an enemy out of either or both would be the highest folly.  

"When the sun is gone, the moon dutifully watches over the land. When the sun arrives, so does unprecedented chaos that the moon reigns tightly back in order. Two beings from far beyond yonder- Intrinsically entwined and woven into the world..."  

The two groups turn their attention to the shadowy mischief-maker, some inquisitive, some baffled and others wary of his soft mumble. Unperturbed, Berial keeps on shuffling the playing cards in his hands before making them vanish with leaving only one between his fingers. 

A strange mix between a taro and playing card depicting a lean pearl-eyed stern man, arms folded behind his back and a young-looking dark-brown haired woman with rich purple in her curly hair. Except her left half looks like him sans the tail and feathery wings, and jester attire- eyes and mouth a hot-pink color instead of pale faded purple, mouth less jagged. The woman appears positively elated, manic one might even say. At least her 'Hypogean' half. An innocent and kindhearted face with a dark, unpredictable side lurking secretly underneath.

"Two sides of the same coin and polar opposites." Two contradictions, stitched in one outside the worlds they visit. Near constantly at each other's throat yet can't be without one another. Looking up from the card, he dismissively tosses it into the fire. The jovial performer's signature eerie grin still hasn't returned as he visibly shudders.

Still hasn't forgotten the times that freak absolutely terrorized him and the other sins relentlessly, for the sole purpose of amusement. That woman is one unpredictable little fiend- You'd think it'd be easy to play her like a fiddle with how socially inept she is and like an open book. And you'd be horribly wrong- Turns out she's got the talent of surprises. Whether the surprise is good or terrible is a major coin flip, heads- good, tails- bad. Even then it's still uncertain- The two could be reversed for all you know. 

For days that thing followed right after him. Berial honestly couldn't believe it- Him, caught by strings and moved around like a puppet, then torn limb by limb and reassembled a fifty times, almost literally died due to being half totally drained of magic and energy.

Three times back to back, and tortured with unspeakable vivid visions.

Oh, yes- There was also that one time the sadistic bitch literally dissected him like a frog, leaving him gaping for a nice whole hour. Just a few highlights. Worst part is the inability to get back at her for it all, and defend against it. 

All because that little terror plays by completely different rules from a different board. 

Berial has never been terrified before, from anyone. Period. Not even those glowing holly shmucks. But Rila? That thing really quickly put the word into his vocabulary. Every now and then, the mere sight of a thin chord causes him to freak out and bolt to hide away like getting flash-banged. In all honesty, I'd take copying statues all the time over...that. Phraesto and Reinier had the nerve to laugh their bums off, teasing and mocking him to hell and back. Until they, too, got 'lucky'.

Poor Stinger-head sweats bullets at just hearing that demon's name and Reinier? He simply hurries to jump into the next dimension the millisecond he senses her presence nearby. His rings are still chipped as if something literally bit into them, triggering his mysophobia like crazy. Worst part is how the rings were also skewed, like folded or snapped in half.

"What's wrong, Berial? Don't you love mischief and fun? Why're you scrambling?"-She had asked in a sweetly innocent cooing sing-song voice, advancing as though about to pounce. Now, it's true that his track record really isn't savory--But what she did wasn't mischief under any form! It was pure, messed-up and cruel sadism! Chaos is one. Complete and total anarchy is a whole 'nother different thing. Which says a lot, for a messed-up evil clown like him to be saying this.

—"You better pray Rila never comes to Esperia in person. I fear no man. But that thing...It scares me." 

Grave silence hangs in the air.

—"....I saw her once, in person. ..I mistakenly took her life, however she revived herself as though nothing happened. " -An elegant tenor speaks up, barely above a whisper. All eyes turn towards the camp's edge where the Stormsword stands with his head subtly bowed, turquoise eyes downcast somberly. The clown visibly flinches, gripping his tail extra tightly, casting a quick look around the clearing.

Meanwhile Sinbad steals a side-glance over at Nara, a little uncomfortable with the Graveborn girl's presence. The woman has clearly died during the final showdown against Hodgkin, and stays dead- sleeping with fishes at the bottom of the sea. Nobody went to retrieve her body or performed another resurrection on her. And...here the Water Wights' dead leader is. In the flesh. A very peculiar, unsettling paradox. 

"A playable character can't die or grow out of his or her 'established' age. For recruited units, time is frozen perpetually even as the world changes." -Pirin's words echo in his mind, sending chills down his spine.

Then what happens to those like Sonja's sister? Those that died 'in the narrative' but are playable regardless? Nara has been recruited. Yet she's like a ghost, similar to the lost spirits in Viperian's lab at Ragebone Cove. Unseeing and unresponsive, kept on invisible strings. 

Valen stays uncharacteristically quiet, coarse brows pinched into a light scowl. 

I saw her at Traveler's Light a week ago–She looked completely normal. Didn't act unhinged either. Is something wrong with Rila? Did she get corrupted? 

Or is it all one giant act for her own amusement? Has it been all along? 

How many times were reality and time torn apart without a care for no reason? How many times has Pirin had to right things out? Reverse and clean up the messes in her wake? 

And how can that woman be a genuinely sensible sweetheart, wiser and more mature for her age...And then turn around and be a terrifying wildcard of unapologetic, unabashed force of destruction?

Is it venting out frustrations, fears, disappointments and pent-up sky-high aggression? Like how a child would play with toys..? It doesn't add up in the least--If that's the case, why here? Why unleash all of that on Esperia and those who live in this world? Why not go to a world she has created? A moment resurfaces to the knight's mind.

During the first days of the journey, when the petite brunette had appeared in person, found him at Traveler's Light. It was a completely normal encounter- No havoc, no crazy or creepy behavior. If it weren't the odd clothes and terminology--He wouldn't have noticed. Just a very short, shy and awkward girl who means well. Looked bit like an idiot, but Valen didn't have trouble helping her get past the initial bout of inner panic. Leveled them both on the same playing-field so she doesn't feel immensely out of place- Like being an unwelcome nuisance, or as though being perfect is a must. As if trying to impress a figure of utmost high status and authority, or an employer to get the job. 

By Dura, did Rila prove herself to be an interesting fella once she warmed up. Witty, friendly, funny and pretty good conversation partner. Can't forget her humor either. 

Well-mannered, reserved and quite good at verbal sparring. Can't count how many times the teen's brief words of wisdom had felt like a hard slap to the face and brought him down to Esperia. Simple truths, yet somehow have been eluding him. In the span of that one afternoon casual chat, the Solitaire was left looking forward to the next time they might meet.

The image of the young-looking woman smiling with gentle understanding clashes awfully with the horrors described. It couldn't have been faked. Rila isn't even the lying type! Every time she heard or witnessed dishonesty, her face turned to a deeply disapproving frown. Reserved annoyance at times even. Quiet anger.

...So how come she's like this..? Is it a cry for help masked under embracing madness? 

Sitting across from him, the 'Secondary Magister' looks around the merry patrons at the other tables with a gloomy faraway deadpan- absently tracing a finger around her tankard's bottom. After a few long minutes of silence, the woman finally speaks up in a low tone full of contemplation. Distant and detached as her chestnut-hazel eyes, cheek resting in her hand and sharp elbow propped on the table's edge. Valen only observes without interrupting, taking a swing of his drink as he listens. The late afternoon sun's light hits his companion's face in such a way, that it makes her eyes seem forest green. 

—"It's an ugly place- Back home. The people majorly being snide easily-offended cockroaches, time rushing too fast, deputies and governments that don't give a single rat's ass about the people and... bloody wars being waged left and right, for no reason.. No good one, anyway. It's either out of greed for resources and influence or power, throwin' their weight around. Or just plain dumb pettiness. None of 'em give a damn for peace or the countless innocent lives that ultimately pay the price. As always. It's only going to shit with each year. "

Her gaze idly sweeps over the people's faces, watching the waitress dart to and fro with peppy grace in her step and a sunny grin on her face as she serves the customers.

"...As soulless as it may sound, cowardly even maybe--I've no intentions of helping the world.  I only care to survive through that disgustingly horrid circus and mind my own business. I know I'm no next revolutionary- Too risky & dangerous. And I'm not 'crazy' enough--I'd rather keep my head." A wry soft smile of self-deprecation curls itself onto her rosy lips as she glances down at the apple juice in her mug and lightly swirls it.

"Guess I got no right to whine with this in mind, huh?" Lightly drumming his fingers in thought on the table, Valen says nothing back. 

It's not like Esperia doesn't have the same, or strikingly similar rotten underbelly. Nor is this world any more forgiving than 'that wretchedly terrible circus'. Even though it may appear so at a glance on the surface, to a 'tourist'. But...at least it's more peaceful, in a way, as in the lack of constant wars going on at all sides. Sure there are militaristic efforts, and all the atrocities that come with war, however it's not nearly as frequent. For now, can't say for the future-The world is always changing after all.

Looking into Rila's eyes- his heart twists. There's no spark of life in them. No joy-- And she's hardly near her thirties or forties still. A look he has seen- sees- in the gazes of his colleagues. Except this one is more sad to gaze at. 

It's the look of someone who has lost all faith in humanity long ago and very barely gets it back at all. 

—"Yes, and no." -The Heroic Order knight mutters pensively, earning himself a puzzled look. In truth, the topic is very messily complicated. There's no easy answer.

—"It's understandable for you to prefer to stay out of conflicts. And you make a fair point- Not everyone is brave enough to throw away everything for change on a large scale, withstand and push back against the onslaught of ruthless backlash they'd inevitably face from the top."

Dura above knows how much he and Fay have struggled--Kids of no remarkable name, too poor to afford anything more than sighing over the toys and goods displayed on store windows, fighting tooth and nail on the daily while mom & dad work to exhaustion and count every copper when time comes to pay taxes. Just very narrowly toeing the line between middle-class and slum-poor.

How many times they'd been bullied by their peers and the rich kids? And then the dream of becoming a knight ignited in little Valen's heart- To rise high to the top, as high as possible, to protect and support his family. Be able to protect many others as well, so they may not suffer the same, in its full brunt.

At the time, joining the army was the best option he had on hand with his lack of academic education- Not totally illiterate. But definitely not on-par for much more prestigious jobs like the law, economy or teaching and medical and scholarly field. A smooth silver tongue can only get you so far. When the certificate matters most and bribery is not an option, simply because you don't have the money.

So young Valen took up to swinging his wooden sword, honing his swordplay and fighting skills, became a mercenary. While sweet, optimistic sister Fay took to singing and dancing, gems and magic, and smooshed them all into one. Went around adventurer and scholars' camps- Until she decided to enroll in the Serene Lyceum to further pursue the art of magic. Sold all the exquisite gems and crystals she has found by accident, courtesy of her innate keen intuition when it comes to finding treasures, including gems and geodes. And here they both stand now, all nicely grown up- Him as a knight at the helm of the Solitaires of the secretive Heroic Order, and Fay as a successful adventurer invaluable to any scholars she joins and current apprentice of the greatest mage alive. 

However not everyone in the position their younger selves were is as 'crazy' to take a wild leap of faith as they did.

"On the other hand, only voicing your discontent with matters constantly doesn't do anyone favors. Same as pity parties. You seem to know this well enough."  

Waving his memories aside like the wind tenderly sweeps through wheat-fields, the elite solder gives a brief moment of quiet to give his answer some thought. Looking up at the fairer-skinned young lady eying him curiously from around the notepad she holds with a pencil in-hand, he offers a reassuring smile and a few cents of his own simple wisdom. A light to help nudge into a clearer direction, hopefully.

"How about a 'compromise'? You're pretty good at drawing and writing, from what snippets you showed me of that painting you had started some days ago and that excerpt you red me today." Still bemused, not quite catching onto his drift. "Why don't you share them- Your art, your stories? It's not much, but it could be helpful to make the 'circus' a little less grim." Doubt sprawls on Rila's rounded oval face, bushy brows pinched together.

—"...How're those silly ramblings and amateur drawings going to help anyone? They won't stop the wars or right the atrocities, abuse and injustice. Certainly won't make me or anyone rich and big...Not that I actually want fame or overwhelming wealth- I've seen what those do. Disastrous things. I'm happy with my simple, humble life." She glances down at her notepad, a tiny edge of bitter scorn in her irises.

"Point is, my nonsense won't help anyone." A claim that Valen calmly refutes with an easy-going smirk on his scarred face and a pinch of theatric goofy bravado as he wags a finger.

—"On the contrary. I'd argue that making your readers' day- or evening- a tiny less dreary is a lot of help. To inspire and invigorate, give them hope- Is the best form of aid you can offer. You, and all the others like you, make that world a little better."

And hope is the second most valuable, important thing to have next to being in good health. No attempt at retorting follow, so the playboy goes on to bring this topic to a neat closure with a final pearl of wisdom. 

"Give yourself more credit and keep being hopeful. Don't be afraid of taking a leap of faith here and there."  Without being needlessly reckless. 

The memory fades to the soft crackling of campfire, the people having declined in numbers--Only Soren, Fay, Mirael ,Cassadee and Nara remain by the fire. A small hand rests on his shoulder and a pair of faded dark purple eyes look at him worriedly, Fay's canary-like voice tugging the Solitaire's busy mind. Looking up from the flickering fire, he glances around the camp, taking notice of the many missing people with surprise.

—"Where is everyone?" 

—"Pirin told us more essential information about the Players and our 'role' and then the second team left." -His sister answers with an optimistic smile that feels a little strained. Overwhelmed and unsure of how to feel about all the newly gained 'cosmic' knowledge of the Truth. Her optimism struggling to keep her unwaveringly high, hopeful spirit from cracking under the weight. Just as he had fought to keep his own sanity together and stay out of the desperation upon first learning.

Esperia, the world they've always known, their whole lives and those of everyone else--Insignificant, borne into existence by the 'Directors' with countless complex lines of code, lore and pixels for the sole purpose of entertainment. Nothing, but mere collectables with pre-determined fate from start to the very end, and when their time is up as the servers inevitably get closed one day....

What then?

None of the struggle matters in the end. It's all just a silly mobile gacha game. 

...At least there are audience members who keep each of their flame, tells their story. Is this enough? 

Still, it hurts insurmountably. It's surprisingly easy to cover it up, act like nothing happened in front of the Players. Pretend nothing has changed. 

—"How many versions are there of us?" -A haggard, tired Solitaire inquires in a strained quiet, broken voice as the new knowledge seeps into his very bones under the Overseer's warily watchful eye. Looking at the rifts in reality and time, at the abyss staring back coldly, listlessly, with words and numbers, and symbols he'd never understand for the life of him...with terror and helpless wounded anger and confusion. The crushing weight of the cosmic secret pressing onto his shoulders like a mountain and threatening to break him, mind grappling with the truth glaring him in the face and desperate denial. While clutching onto the lifeline the frail night nymph has given him, extending magic and song to soothe his slipping sanity. —"As many as the Players out there. Some never make it to high tier, some cases all reach highest stage shortly, and some stay unaware while others wake sooner or later. Some are favored above all others, depends on each player. All that ignoring the players who 'reroll' and how many times they do."   The moon explained calmly in a somber tone while righting out the cataclysm caused by Rila's gleeful rampage of frustration. Valen silently watched his former charge mend the timelines to order, stitching up the fabric of reality to its natural order as per intended by the narrative. And wipe away the memories of the 'slumbering' people whom bore unfortunate witness. 

—"And Vanya? Where did he go?" Valen loops an arm around Fay's shoulders, pulling his sibling into a tight reassuring hug. 'It's okay. It'll be okay.' In a macabre sense, it's comforting to know Fay has become aware instead of remaining as just a cardboard pawn. The thought of having to watch the geomancer loop through the same dialog-lines like an empty shell, a husk of herself--The older brother hurries to shut down that line of thought.

Bearing the Truth is enough.

Hugging back and fighting to keep smiling, Merlin's student goes on to elaborate, seeing as how Cassadee is too busy sorting the information in her mind.

—"Sinbad pulled him aside to let us have a breather from the new information, suggesting to call it a night. They should be little ways closer to the ruins in the Haunted forest."  

"....Valen? ...I'm scared." The cheer is gone, a small quiver to her voice. Fighting back a sob.

The roving swordsman hugs his younger sister tighter, murmuring hushed words of comfort as he rubs soothing circles on her back.  And prays she makes it out through the stages of waking, knowing it's inevitable. Even if Rila doesn't pick her or the others very often, the spike in power is evident. (right..?) The biggest hurdles are steadily trickling in, the rise steep.

Meanwhile, seated on the other log 'round the fire next to Cassadee, Mirael quietly mulls over the Truth's ramifications and the appearance of the two 'Merlins', as her fellow mage has dubbed them in her studious notes. Two sides of the same coin, like the purple-haired twins of Eternity from another world Pirin sometimes has told brief stories about when prompted about his time as that land's 'moon'. One of the twins was dreamy and kind, the aspect of dreams and change while the other was stern and unyielding with reinforcing order... that would then morph into the pursuit of eternity after the first goddess perished. On rare occasions, some of Teyvat's people have allegedly joked that him and Rila are the less tragic Ei & Makoto. ...In any case, this is quite the predicament.

On one had, Merlin is still alive and active as he follows his own role--However it often appears that Rila takes full control of his body akin to a ghostly possession. Not that the Magister has tried to resist or fight back, relinquishing control easily. 

Or is it possible that's the case...because my Magister can't fight back or pose any form of resistance to this?  The thought sends cold chills down the Scarlet enchantress' spine.

The string of sinister thoughts edging to delve deeper as follow up spiral are equally as unsettling- No. Terrifying. Concepts that Mirael firmly refuses to face, even less dares to glance at for a second. The implications are even more so. She hurries to burn, chase those thoughts away. --Yet they still quietly persist, looming ominously at the very edge of her mind. --On the other hand, without 'the sun'- Time may go on but nothing changes in terms of progression...and when she leaves, it comes to a stand-still altogether.

The whole time Pirin talked, spinning the great cosmic secret into a whimsical fairy-tale like legend, the Magister's apprentice had been hastily taking notes to document it all in full detail. Along with in-depth analysis notes on the duo's abilities and nature. Poor girl's quill moved so fast across the page, that it looked as though it would catch ablaze. 

—"If my observations are right-Then 'Rila' is a catalyst, ensuring the events unfold accordingly. Moreover, once she arrives in a world- Her presence gets intertwined into it, altering it unintentionally. I suspect the descent of each catalyst- Player- creates a nexus point or several nexus nodes. One is where the world remains the same as it was prior to their arrival, with the other being the current 'new' order." The Scarlet witch looks down at the tome overflowing with scribbled notes as her fellow mage mumbles under her breath, reading over the text for mistakes. 

It's worth asking him on the matter..Although he'd likely choose to not reopen this topic for a while. 

Casting a glance over her shoulder at the tree-line of the foggy forest, Mirael looks back at Cassadee's study. The option to forget the Truth is on the table for anyone of them who no longer wishes to know, a form of falling asleep once more and loosing awareness or a transitory moment of blissful ignorance. The case being the latter for the Sun's three most favored. 

—"Every 'actor' that becomes aware of the spectators and directors' gaze has 'woken up' and has two routes in that point. Either his, or her, mind fails to comprehend what is happening and what he-she is faced with and breaks into madness...Or undergoes a process of change which ends in accepting the overwhelming meta-knowledge. In a way, this could be viewed as a symbolic death and metamorphosis from how he, she used to be- To a newer self. Ideally, none of the 'actors' in the 'play' should wake up at all to begin with for the reasons I mentioned."    —"What happens to those who fail to transition? Is it possible for that person to recover on his or her own?" -The white-haired mage inquires as she raises a hand to catch the Overseer's eye, hurrying to flip onto a blank page. The two groups' attention turns to her then back to the felled star. A deeply contemplative scowl curls onto the 'magister's' lips with a grim look in his pearlescent eyes as he takes a moment to sift through his memories and speaks carefully. Still continuing to chew on her question mentally in the meantime. —"I haven't seen or heard of such cases, nor have I allowed it to happen. Maybe it's possible, however I strongly believe the odds are rather low. It's why I make sure to keep a close eye on those that wake up when it first occurs, in order to help lead them onto the metamorphosis route. ...And, hopefully, make it as smooth as possible."  —"I see...And what happens if they fall into insanity?"  —"Then they become a shattered husk of their former selves, grasping for anything that can anchor them in desperation." A flicker of sorrowful fear flashes in the man's irises as he utters this in a shushed tone. 

—"I can't help but feel bad for him. Having to reverse the damage his 'half' causes carefreely and watch over us while shouldering the Magister's journey and legacy." Merlin's former student carefully reaches out a hand and flips back to the pages detailing the two entities that have impacted Esperia so vastly. "Mirael?" Two sides of the same coin, and polar opposites..

(1) 'Connected how? Same entity??' Is it possible for Pirin to be a close reflection of Rila?  (2) 'Rila doesn't suffer any damage when Pirin gets wounded/perish. In reverse he experiences the same injuries and emotions as when she sustains damage.' (3) 'It appears that Pirin exhibits traits of both an 'actor' and a 'player' at the same time.' Referencing the stories he has shared of worlds other than Esperia, he is capable of traversing and setting down in various different universes, along with influencing other characters and reality*-- similar to how some 'players' are able to. Curiously, he seems to be limited strictly within the 'fictitious' spaces along with lacking control over his own fate both past and future akin to a 'character' or 'actor' in a 'narrative'. Therefore I believe it's safe to assume that Rila (his 'half') has the role of 'Director' in relation to him. (Note: Ref- point 8) Similarly to a Player/Director, it appears he cannot be truly killed. According to one of Valen's eye-witness accounts, Pirin had gotten into a fight with Berial, the Hypogean killing him however the 'magister' self-resurrected and proceeded to strike back in retaliation. The sinister jester was dismayed by this turn of events and disengaged, fled the scene at the sight of Pirin's threads as soon he was set free of them.  * Note: Some players can be also 'Directors'. I accidentally seem to have connected to Rila in one of my dreams shortly prior to becoming aware. The words she told me still puzzle me. "You're not under my jurisdiction." -Likely referring to the characters in her own universes. From this excerpt, I confidently conclude that since Pirin shares her abilities and roles (partially), he has lesser influence on us due to not being our 'Director', limited to memory/mind manipulation and/or mild puppeteering. However Rila has slightly stronger presence.  (4) 'Pirin and Rila seem to share memories, knowledge and emotions (to a degree), leading me to believe they share a consciousness at a core level. Possibly linked together?'  (?*)(5) Can Players have manifestations of themselves within the worlds they visit? It appears so. (The 'sun' & 'moon' being prime case example if my suspicions prove correct.)  (6) It appears that time beyond Esperia flows much slower, with our day-night cycle passing nearly in the blink of an eye for the Players.. Furthermore, according to Pirin- The Player and Directors' realm lacks the magic and creatures outside of the regular animals. Yet in juxtaposition their technology, equipment and scholarly fields are highly advanced compared to ours, achieving a near 'magic-like' effect in complexity, potential and efficiency. I attempted to ask for more information however the Overseer refused to speak further on the matter. Very fascinating...    (7) Actors are unable to truly harm and kill a Player (Catalyst) and a Director (World creator).  (8) More observations and references are needed. Unfortunately 'Pirin' is highly unwilling to open up the topic and divulge more regarding the 'Truth' and its other aspects beyond the very essentials; Rila is missing most of the time, with her personal appearances on our world being sporadic and very brief. Currently I only have Valen, Eironn and Berial's account. (Sinbad and Soren refuse to broach the topic- How they came to wake up, their metamorphosis, emotions, what has changed, etc. I suspect they followed the general pattern that the three accounts point to.)  

Snapping out of her own musings, the witch looks up, meeting Cassadee's inquisitively uncertain and worried blue eyes. Questioning.  

—"Sorry- I got distracted for a moment, Cassadee. Did you ask me something?" 

—"No, no- It's okay. I was just thinking to myself." 

Meanwhile, Soren still remains perfectly silent--standing next to the log his three other teammates sat earlier. Arms crossed over his broad chest and head bowed slightly, his fringe falls to cover up his eyes as he stares into the flickering embers distantly. The fire's warmth does little to shoo away the nagging dread chilling him to his very bones as it slowly creeps. If the worst suspicions come true--Then it wouldn't matter whether Alsa has been recruited long ago after she became playable little ways before his turn came up. She'd still inescapably loose all awareness, fail to make it through the awakening and undergo that change...fall asleep.

The same fate that would catch Fay, Mirael, Cassadee and Mikola. As it would befall Salazer, Eironn, Bryon and many others not favored by Rila highly enough to interact with them frequently. Would they become like Nara, same state without being dead? 

"I'll preface with this regarding the 'actors' in the narrative as it's essential: Right off the get-go everyone automatically has a default 'asleep' state- Or not available for recruitment by the players, 'playable' that cannot wake up long after having been recruited. This is for the Directors, a copy that stays fixed in the narrative. While when you go on to become playable, the chance of becoming aware presents itself as a possibility. Or you can remain asleep like the copy. This, however, is not in your hands unfortunately--The players inadvertently call the shots." 

The warrior's lips press to a thin line, hands balling into fists as his ears droop. The memory of his own waking still blazes in his mind's eye as vivid as if it was today. 

It was a day after having won in the Warsong Festival and gone out to journey through the Ashen Wastes on their way to Alkali. That day, the fragile-looking blood-sucker had looked up at him with a look of pained sadness and anxious dread. Scared for him, for his well-being as though he stood on the precipice of gravely immense danger. However didn't say anything, preferring to stay quiet.

Or was actually thinking of how to breach the subject and ease him into those murky quicksand depths as gently as he can. Spin, weave a tight net strong enough to keep him aloft from falling in. And Soren himself was relatively content to let him be, not being one for fussing over or needless chatter himself...

That was, until he just couldn't take the heavy silence of melancholy and its oppressive suspense causing all kinds of horrible scenarios to spawn in his head. Maybe Pirin has had a bad vision last night, a prophetic dream about the children, warning of their demise or getting severely hurt?  Maybe something's about to go wrong back home with Alsa? Or something bad is going to befall the two of them during the trek? The faintly mumbled 'I don't have a good feeling.' that the magister gave him upon finally being prompted only confirmed Soren's worries. 

And then a strange new sensation crept on him-- A resurgence in power, in strength that's not normal. As a purple ray enveloped his form, the sensation grew and grew. What the ursine son of the desert assumed to be the Dusk Lord's blessing flaring up from within him, turned out to be something else entirely and separate.

All fatigue, needs, evaporated along with the possibility of ever dying one day--Be it of old age or other ways. Immortal.

Somehow, in that second--Soren distinctly knew that the chance of ever aging at all beyond his current years has been ripped away from him. Never to be given back.

The world would keep going on and change, and he'd stay at teen age for all eternity. Even as the years still take their toll on his mind. And then the 'Truth' coldly stared him in the face like the blackhole it is, resulting in a flurry of questions from him, each meeting its reluctant answer.

The last one was a hard kick to the gut, the full merciless, cold, brunt of the secret the night jinni has been so adamantly coveting to himself. For all their sakes.

—"What are you rattling about?! How're we not real?? How're our lives- WHAT??" -He had ranted and lashed out in total denial, disbelief, pacing back and forth around their campfire for the night. Suddenly, Pirin's voice was grating to his ears and he couldn't stand him, the desert, everything- Overwhelmed, furious and terrified.

Lost.

A soft voice calls his name gently, an attempt to calm him down from his spiraling panic. Pirin had tried to carefully reel him back.

—"Soren.." It didn't work. It only made his mind latch on harder, denial and shock fighting over. Fur bristled and ears flattened back, pupils narrowed to slits in sheer wounded rage as he sharply comes to a stop, snapping, yells. Wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, a thunderous war cry until he has no breath left, angrily waving his hands around in frantic and enraged gesturing.

—"No! No way! You can't just- What about my clan? What about Pops?? Was all that just a lie all along!?" 

"..."

The mournful silence only stoked his rage--grief and confusion. Terror. Helplessness. 

Heaving and staring at the other man, with quick stomping strides--Soren reaches his friend in no time. Standing at his full, imposing height- he grabs the 'magister' by the shoulders with a bruising rough grip. His knuckles had turned white, whole form shaking as everything gets to a boiling point too much to bear. ...So the warrior of the newly infamous clan lets it out, bellows with all his might. A howl for help of a lost, scared man unable to hold it together and stay stoic and quiet. Boys--Men--Don't cry. Crying is for women, babies, helpless and the weaklings. He's neither of those. Should've grit his teeth harder, dealt with it on his own- Should've been strong, stayed strong. Should've persevered through this and won. So Soren roared, gave his best, most ferocious war cry.  Hot, bitter tears had welled at the corners of his eyes. The former Grimmaw child was too caught up in his rage to notice and blink them back or wipe them away.  They roll down his cheeks and chin as his voice cracks.

—"ANSWER ME!"

"...I'm sorry." 

...And Soren, eldest orphan of the Uru clan, former son of the late Grimmaw clan's chieftain, crumbled to smithereens. Crushed under the burden's weight too heavy for his shoulders to bear.

That night, Soren wept like a weak, pathetic, helpless pansy. Like the terrified and lost little boy he felt, held in the vampire's arms. Throughout it all, 'Merlin' patiently stayed quiet, letting him cry, and he clung onto the shorter pallid man desperately in his sobbing. Eventually he had no more tears to shed, drained. Listlessly listened to all the tender comforting nothings the felled star murmured faintly. 

In the end, each and every one of them had to pull it together and shake off the pain that the Truth brings. Oddly enough, there are some who deliberately try to actively put themselves into the sun's grasp and wake up. 

—"I find it rather fascinating and mystifying." One of the half-bearfolk man's ear twitches twice, tuning into Cassadee's continued muttering. "From what has been observed and described of their behaviors, the two entities appear to have assumed distinct roles outside of their respective baseline. Namely, of 'child' and 'adult'--Ioan or 'Pirin' is the evident adult of the duo with the typical traits of that stage. Maturity on both emotional and intellectual level, behavioral basis, responsibility, nurture and guidance, empathy, understanding. Think of a parent or older sibling. 'Rila' in contrast lacks awareness- Innocent, curious, possesses the heartless cruelty present due to lacking understanding of importance, among other traits of childhood."

The Uru warrior and purple-eyed Solitaire exchange a look, mildly dubious.

—"What puzzles me is the line that Berial said at the beginning: "Two sides of the same coin." I'm inclined to interpret his words at face-value as both seem to be the same entity." 

—"That's all fine and dandy, except for the fact that Rila clearly knows what she's doing." The two mages look up at Soren. "I've seen her appear in the desert and go on a rampage, just 'cause she got bored. She knew people would loose their minds when telling them of what we know. Knew it damn well and didn't care, still kept going."

The incident still itches at his mind. The only solution to the crisis was to rush to find Pirin and ask him for help. Ask him to fix the umpteenth catastrophic mess his demonic 'half' is wreaking onto the Ashen Wastes. Because that fiend is far too dangerous to charge at on his own and the chances of getting swept up are high. 

A look of apprehension if not dread settles onto Merlin's former students. Valen and Fay stiffen. 

—"..W-why..? Why would Rila do something like this?" -It's the colorful dancer's voice that breaks the tense quiet. Still trying to assume the best and give the better of the doubt.  —"Because it's 'fun' to watch their reactions and if or how insane they'd go. Her words. Those people are simply playthings for her, like we are." Ignoring how that thing also made literal jaws rise from the ground to eat some of the Maulers and Lightbearers while terrorizing them, laughing maniacally with zero remorse or guilt. Jaws with gnarly teeth, hands. Surprisingly nobody died...physically. Internally? A lot.

It's the whole point as to why the decision was made to convince Merlin of freeing Phraesto and teaming up with plus the other two Hypogeans. Since that day, the Illusionist often acts as a lookout--Warning against that menace the second he spots or senses her presence in the desert. ..And then proceeds to nope out, jump right back into the Dusk Lord's tomb to avoid getting his scorpion hair seriously tangled into a tizzy like last time. Along with having his eyes gauged out in the most sadistic way possible and messed up 'til he can't see straight.

Whatever mind torture Rila did to that Hypogean must've been something else to make him that scared. 

Same as Berial--The mouthy lil brat acts as an alarm system and lookout for Holistone and Rustport. In short, for the Lightbearers. And Reinier covers the Wilders' turf. Lookouts and decoys to keep that terror busy while one of the team members goes to fetch 'Merlin'.

Not fool-proof but works, for now. 

Although it was a bit funny how the Seaside savant went about the issue that time Rila popped up in his hometown--Already in her dragon, shadowy Hypogean creepy form, ready to cause mayhem. The man had just sighed in exasperation, got a broom since he had one on-hand, and shooed off the thing, like it's a typical Monday. Completely unbothered. A reckless idea. Thankfully, he lived. 

Regular day in ye old Rustport, the intel-broker having been assigned by his employer to sweep one of the warehouses of the Carmine Whispers. (With the promise to be paid fairly, of course.) So there Sinbad was, minding his business with sturdy old broom in hand, whistling a happy little tune to himself--Until the distinct sense of deja vu struck. Pausing in his diligent work to investigate, a pair of nice, glowy hot-pink orbs stared right back at him. With utmost curious, diabolical glee.

A particular little 'rat' that has been skittering around town lately and stirring up troubles, almost flipping Rustport on its head...literally. Yup, there the shady lizard is, sitting in the corner with a huge grin and ogling shamelessly. This is the fifteenth time this week, the wretched terror making at least five back-to-back visits each day--Popping in and out not unlike Berial.   Except this one doesn't warn at all. That jester at least makes a noise to announce his presence. 

Sure enough, the pesky menace is already doing her creepy nonsense--Jaws wide open, teeth growing and twisting, falling out with lil' tissue and blood in the cracks on 'em, eyeballs expanding and shrinking, rolling in their sockets sloowly then fast. The whole horror movie nine yards. Those kinds of shenanigans would've freaked out anyone else, however he wasn't buying it. It's been done soo many times by now, that he's gotten desensitized. Or maybe has gone off the deep end himself somewhere along the way. With a tired sigh, already so done with this bullshit-- The blond sailor steps towards the stupid 'rat' calmly, gesturing for it to go away with his free hand . 

—"Alright, get lost. C'on, shoo." The grinning devil crawls up the wall, head turned three hundred-sixty degrees and lolling as it does. Like a centipede or cockroach. Naturally, he tries to swat at it with the broom to get it down. Maybe kill the troublesome fiend, if he swings hard enough. Outer being or not, that little brat has no business in the warehouse or in town.

"There's nothing for you here, get lost. Get." Unfortunately Rila moved too fast and scuttled right up to the ceiling. Drooling.

Some of that disgusting slime falls on his scarf, the same one that his foster mothers had gifted him on his coming of age ceremony. Glancing down at it, the orphan frowns as he attempts to wipe the sludge off but to no avail. (Oh great, just great.) Looking back up, just in time to see another drop of drool fall and step aside, holding the broom like a weapon. "Don't jump on my head." 

And then the thing crawls across the ceiling, scuttling over to the window and outside to jump on someone else's apparently. Already whispering incessantly the great cosmic secrets and cackling. Realizing that hell's about to break loose--Again-- with full Armageddon, he drops the broom and hurries out the door to (hopefully) find that lizard and cut her off before rifts the size of blackholes start appearing all over the place. 

A scream of terror echoes. 

Too late. 

(Should've thought this through better. Note to self: Trap the devil next time. (Or at least try.) )

Another scream, another rift. The weather was starting to act funny.  Things were getting downhill fast and soon someone might even die.

—"Sinbad!" (-And a very peeved Sonja would bite my head off, it seems.) There the curly-haired mafia woman is with Lucca at her side and a bunch of Whispers, already at the scene right as he arrives at the elevator. Another rift tears itself dangerously close to them. In front of them, the endless maddening whispering skittering about it and all the other rifts ripped into reality's fabric.

All across their humble crime-ruled spot of the world. It's like Rila's everywhere at once. Judging by the confused, mildly unsettled looks that flash in the gang's eyes, the chatter is beginning to take its toll. "Don't look or listen to those! Go back inside, too dangerous!" Assuming (hoping and praying) that the blasted devil hasn't left some nice rifts in the manor as well.

"Retreat!" --The scarred rouge calls over his shoulder to them without looking back as he continues to rush, finding Pirin being top priority. The only one who can put a stop to this and fix it. Miraculously, it didn't take long- the faux Magister hanging by the docks of the lower residential district. 

—"Devil's back. Help." -He chokes out between catching his breath, struggling not to panic as seconds tick by with the damage getting more devastating. Doesn't need to see Pirin's face to know the man's frowning tiredly in annoyance at his 'half' and her antics. The star's eerily quiet tenor is flat, stern. Gracefully uncrosses his legs and gets up to his feet, turning to walk towards him. A simple question. A gesture for him to slow down and breathe.

—"Where."  —"Upper district. Moved from there to the docks or plaza." Targeting crowded places. 

In a blink Pirin vanishes and Sinbad races right over there after him, hoping to be of help. Somehow. Arrives right on time to see Rila get mercilessly shot down with sharp needle-like blades made of crystalline flames, connected by thin silk-like threads of that magic that wrap around the dragon's thrashing form. Held to the ground, jaws clamped shut by the threads.

No negotiations, no patient gentleness or attempt at reason like the several times before. Straight to tracking, hunting down and kicking her out. Seizing the trouble-maker by the scruff, Pirin drags the caught being towards the newly ripped rift as it gets morphed into a portal- And throws her into it, closing the rift. 

Footsteps and easy-flowing banter draw the small group's attention to the tree-line of the veiled Haunted forest to see the two love-birds returning. The lively savvy swindler sauntering by his partner's side calmly, having already left the topic alone and moved on to less serious matters. The fallen star on the other hand seems to be still thinking something over, likely ironing out some of its kinks out and finalizing it in his mind. A plan. 

For the hundredth time, Valen's heart skips at the sight of his former charge and a spike of bitter jealousy--Envying that rascal's mad luck. It gets followed up by a pang of inquisitive buzz of excitement and nervousness as the hare-brained idea that has been secretly brewing in the back of his mind, crawls back. 

I really am an avaricious brat, aren't I?  

Not sure if either one or both would be interested... But it is worth putting out on the table. 

—"Hookay. I'll keep this nice and short: I got a hoodwink to help with the 'Devil' problem." Instantly the goofy idea falls to the far backburner, the knight's attention fully directed at the incarnated wandering spirit along with everyone else around the fire.

Funny how they all look like kids in class, ears sharp when listening to the cool and/or favorite teacher. Or meerkats on the lookout.

"Upsides- You get a part of my magic to keep plus abilities, and a way to counter the menace on your own. Drawbacks? This plan is in testing and I'll need to work very closely with you to see if and what needs to be ironed out. I.e, more frequent meetings and having to recall how your attempts went in detail plus how you are being affected. No skipping." Mirael smiles as the two younger mages' eyes light up at the prospect, same as Sinbad's. Soren stays quiet, mulling the offer and weighing it carefully while Valen looks one step away from casually accepting it. Sure it will be more work and business meetings, but how can he possibly complain when it's Pirin? 

—"I volunteer to be Holistone's representative." -He declares confidently with a raise of his hand, giving Fay a cheeky smirk as the geomancer calls 'Veto!' shortly after, pouting at having been beaten to the chance. Meanwhile the Scarlet witch doesn't appear fussed with missing out on the opportunity, content to observe as the two siblings squabble a bit.

—"Valen! I could improve my gem magic with his guidance!" -An unhappy Hail moon star whines, earning herself a playful retort from her older brother which makes her huff. This is a once-in a lifetime chance! Merlin is powerful, without a doubt- But it's apparent that Pirin has a lot more to offer in terms of magic, guidance, knowledge and wisdom due to being a long-lived spirit that has experienced plenty! (Barring the four other lifetimes of his or the other worlds he has visited.)

—"Sorry, Fay- Early bird gets the worm~! Besides, you're already busy studying under the Magister." In all seriousness, both of them know that the woman will find plenty of other opportunities. Still doesn't stop her from pouting though. "Still not fair..." The elite knight sticks his tongue out childishly with a smile and she does the same with a scowl of feigned frustration. Then they laugh at the silliness. 

The Empire is quite the territory to cover. 

—"I volunteer to represent the capitol!" -Cassadee's quiet, soft-spoken voice rings out next without hesitation, seizing the unique chance like a dark horse. The volunteer for the coastal side is obvious. Which leaves the desert areas and the Wilders' territories alongside Remnant Peak.. Pirin silently observes, not fully surprised people are jumping to accept the plan. And then Merlin's apprentice chimes in, catching the present off-guard, her choice of territory even more so. Soren's ears perk up and twitch twice, visible bafflement and surprise on his face at the proclamation. 

—"I volunteer for the Eroded Enclaves!" There's a bright grin on Fay's oval visage, and a gleam of fierce determined competition. Refusing to give up. Almost as though the two mages are having a competition. Makes the brunette's main motive for this endeavor curious..Sure, her desire to get better at gem magic and prove a point is there, absolutely. However there's an odd sense that there's bit more than that to her resolve, maybe trying to impress someone with how well she mastered her 'feeble', blooming magic..

A gleam of surprise, concern but also pride and inquisitiveness flickers in the white-haired scholar's sky-blue gaze as she glances at her. And then gets tiny bit shy and looks back to the 'dutiful moon'. 

Her brother gives her a mildly concerned look, knowing how unforgiving the desert is. It took him a good half a year to adjust while traveling with the 'Magister' and the Uru siblings, during the Song of Strife escapades. Even then, he had just barely started getting used to the climate.

—"Are you sure?" The answer was immediate and resolute. —"Yes." 

—"I'll cover the Ashen Wastes." -Soren's baritone voice slides in next flatly, finally making up his mind. Pirin gives a clipped nod, turning his eyes to the only person whom hasn't spoken up. 

—"Mirael? Your thoughts?"

The former Lyceum pioneer student waves the offer off with a simple smile, not interested in taking part. It's fine to sit back and watch from sideline, lend a helping hand here and there. There's enough work of watching over Ryeham and burning down hypofiends, driving them away anyway. Plus taking care of Merlin so the notorious Arch-mage doesn't do something too reckless or overwork himself. The little hamsters aren't enough, busy with maintaining the Mystical House and keeping it pristine, alongside with caring for the Giga with Dolly. 

—"Thank you, but I'll pass. I'm helping my dear Magister at the House. However I can pass him a message, if you wish?"

—"Yes, please do. Let Merlin know I'll need the Hall of Resonance for the meetings....Also, a friendly reminder to go outside for a few minutes now and then. Thanks, Mirae." At this, Mirael offers back a nod in acknowledgement paired with a muted chuckle at the last quip. Certainly will be sure to pass on the message. Rising from the log and lowering the campfire's intensity, the curvaceous lady gives a playful salute... And with that, the red-head graciously leaves the clearing. Soon enough the desert tribe's secondary chief also takes his leave to find the nearest waystone and teleport home. Probably has sensed the 'odd' jittery tension that hangs around his knightly teammate and didn't want to have to deal with the awkward situation pending. Which leaves just the captain and the two lovebirds by the dimming fire. And if he doesn't act fast, it'll be only him by himself. 

Sitting on the log by the fire and staring into the embers, twiddling his thumbs absently, the dazzling player keeps oddly quiet for a few seconds, lost in thought. Is this really a good idea? Maybe leaving the two alone would be better...Glancing up from around his fringe at the duo as they walk past him, the high-ranking solder feels his confidence dim slightly, watching them banter easily. Not quite listening to what they're exchanging, but the tone is chipper, playful and breezy with a few jokes and friendly-fire quips sprinkled.

Plus a lovey-dovey flirtatious subtext to the mock 'bickering' and the sweet affectionate lilt underneath it all. Basically what some might call 'a married old couple'.

And here he is-- Possibly 'bout to butt in like some annoying third wheel. Most likely. What's worse is that Pirin, the poor sweetheart he is, would feel bad as if leaving him out... 

Seriously, how is it that the guy is clever enough to come up with good battle plans and analysis--And yet be so dense? Not like the vampire's faking it either. Unless the flirting is slightly above subtle, bit more direct--then he won't catch on. Just assume the other person's being affectionate, especially when it comes to the people he views as his friends, or 'homies' like some of the youngsters like to say.

Absolutely ride or die, will drop everything to come and help anyone of them out, stick it through to the end come hell or high water. But by the dear Goddess is it frustrating, trying to get the point across without being obnoxious. 

For a whole week, he's been trying to say 'Hey! I'm into you!'--Dinners (that never got to actually happen. The doll was always busy with Merlin duties or other work.), flirting and playfulness.. Which in hindsight probably looked like typical Valen shmoozer bravado. But the gifts should've been some hint! Right?? I mean, come on! Who else does that? ...Oh, wait- Fay and the Wilders crew have also sent him gifts. And the Uru clan, too. Also Marilee and Mirael from time to time. And Magister Merlin.

Suddenly Valen feels like a fool.

Taking all of this into account, no wonder his behavior gets mixed up. It doesn't help that literally every time he's tried to ask the wanderer on a date face to face, something always cropped up--Either the general got a new mission, or something else duty-related that can't wait or he'd be swamped with paperwork in the office. Or the annual meeting of the Solitaires has come and he didn't notice, as a result having to rush, beeline for the capitol like a madman. 

Meanwhile Sinbad has only very recently joined their little squad and is a friend, yes.. Just not quite 'a homie' yet. And none of that crap.  Lucky bastard devil. 

"I think I figured out why Sonja was never interested in me." 

"Hm? Why?" 

" 'Cause she already had eyes on her bodyguard and got with him." "Really??"

"Aye. Can't miss 'em. I was just too tunnel-visioned to notice it." 

—"Never really thought the lady had it in her, to be honest. She always comes across to me as too busy-not interested in romance." 

—"Ha. The irony." Pirin lightly swats at his shoulder with a small laugh and a half-hearted 'Oh shut it.', the two of them almost passing by the slouched over troubled knight.

Valen's forlorn, gloomy face catches the vampire's attention and he halts, a scowl of mild apprehension settling onto his features. Unhooking his arm from his sailor's, the ghostly 'siren' pads back, causing the other to pause and look back at him with a look of slight confusion. Then his brown eyes land on the brooding Solitaire and it clicks in his head. The scarred intel-trader calmly rejoins his siren's side.  

—"Valyo? You alright?" -A breathless tenor snaps Valen out of his thoughts, almost jumping out of his skin. (Barely registers the silly nickname of endearment. It came up as a half-joke that stuck around similar to 'Romeo' and 'Prince Charmer'. 'Val' and 'Vale' or 'Knave', too.) Followed by a tenor an octave lower and more rugged yet no less worried, echoing in wary agreement.

Understandable, given how often the 'sun' has been terrorizing and the corruption she's known to inflict. Sometimes out of the blue, with no clue it's there until it gets more severe. Can't catch a break these days. —"Yup, you seem off. Everything good?" Their voices honestly startled him for a good second--Only to notice the two mildly concerned pearly and rum-like irises of his friends, Pirin's gloved hand resting on his shoulder. Whatever spiteful courage had come up instantly whizz out, leaving the light-armored charmer a sudden nervous wreck. Partially out of internal panic incoming at having been caught red-handed, realizing he's drawn attention to himself and at being left breathless from the sight. 

Now or never. Now or never. Here goes nothing. Blinking, Valen hurries to quickly straighten out his posture and cover it up with a cough, silently having fingers crossed he doesn't burn bridges in this moment of truth. They'd find out eventually one way or another. ..doesn't make it anymore easy. 

—"Yes! Yes, I'm fine! Don't worry for me! I was just...thinking, over something." -The handsome playboy knight answers back with a smile that comes across as more nervous instead of his usual. Well that didn't sound suspicious at all. Judging by the looks on his two companions, neither was convinced by his half-sputter. Running a hand through his wavy hair and keeping it on his nape, a slight grimace crosses his angular face, knowing he's just cornered himself and no backpedaling will save him.

"Alright, fine- I've been having a hare-brained idea for some time that keeps nagging me." Another feeble attempt at leaving a backdoor to weasel out of. 

—"Just spill the beans already. We promise we won't laugh- We're all crackheads in this team." -That the hardy coastal swindler promptly shuts with a prompt of affable humor. "Right, Vanya?" The man shorter than the two of them, hums cheerily with a light smile.

Two against one? Not very fair.

Looks like the inner conflicting dilemma is done with, now that there's nowhere to run under the duo's expectant gaze. And so the poor outnumbered solder caves in with 'Just don't get mad and hear me out.' muttered under his breath, barely above a whisper. 

—"Here's the thing: I've had a crush on our 'Magister' since I first saw him when General Hogan assigned me as his escort." -He begins, the campfire's dying embers weakly illuminating him, ignoring the simple "Cool." from Rusport's notorious intel-gatherer. Doesn't make a big deal out of the confession, casual smirk still present with a brief raise of the burly brows. However the subtle glimmer is there, a silent warning. Valen presses on, raising his hands in defense as a 'Chill out', keeping his tone even. As for Pirin, the spirit doesn't appear too excited, nor judgmental.

—"I've tried to express my interest several times, however something always happened. It was like a curse! And recently the idea of polyamory appeared in my mind, haunting me since relentlessly--It's fairly popular in the capital. So I guess I'm curious to hear your thoughts on perhaps giving it a try..? See if it works?"

Sinbad's breezy smirk has faded, hands on hips in what can be interpreted as mild disapproval. Definitely not enthusiastic about the idea, not quite annoyed either. Not very happy in any case.

Pirin's owl-like grey eyebrows pinch together subtly into a pout of mild confusion and uncertainty. Reluctant, weighing and doing a thorough analysis in his mind. Sorting out his thoughts on the matter and carefully putting them in a cohesive order. Likely also attempting to make sense of the ordeal, what to even make of it. One way or the other, it's plain obvious he'd stick with his 'Jolly sailor Bold'. Doesn't hurry to respond, fallen into 'observer mode', gathering as many perspectives to reflect in hopes of getting the bigger picture. So the blond easily slides in, keeping his voice level-headed. Neutral. As though humoring him with a hypothetical scenario. And blunt, not very convinced. 

—"I guess we could. 'Don't knock it 'til you try it' as they say." Not flat out rejection.. "You might find yourself drowned in trouble, though- Given our track record as magnets for it." Then goes straight for the throat, using humor as friendly teasing. Beneath it, the note of sternness isn't lost on Valen. And it makes sense. Still doesn't make it more pleasant to be voiced aloud, however.

"Jokes aside- I doubt this thing would pan out. I think it's obvious we're both attracted to Pirin here, not each other. So it's really less of a 'polyamory' and more of a 'triangle'. To me- this whole thing sounds like a free pass to third-wheel us, no offense." 

—"None taken, fair enough. Then I suppose that's a 'no' from you?" -The lilac-eyed Solitaire quips somewhat defensively, making the other man bristle a little. A flash of teeth not too unlike a dog. 

What do you see in this con artist Vanyusha? —"Hey! If it was, I would've said so! Don't put words into my mouth, yeah?"-Then finishes in a calmer tone of low, clear tenor, gesturing with a hand- palm up. Kind of like a shrug. "I'm just laying my cards on the table, that's all." Maybe putting this suggestion out there truly wasn't the best idea after all. The fishy hustler has made a very good point- It probably won't work. They'd be at each other's throat more like rivals while trying to hide it under witty banters and mock spars, to make it seem like just horsing around in front of their shared partner. 

Or maybe we'd get along swimmingly once I get used to Sinbad's particular bluntness and much sharper humor, crass or bit obnoxious as it is, due to our culture and lifestyle disparity. 

Shoulders relaxing, the adventurous street-rat glances down at his partner, expression softening slightly along with his voice that takes a quiet note. That same gentleness that Valen envies and yearns for at the same time--Love. Simple, sincere, unconditional and unwaveringly lasting.

Once again bias strikes: How can this perpetually coinless, messy and unrefined, stinking scoundrel who greedily relies on the generosity of others, have attained what he has been struggling to grasp for weeks & longer?

What does Pirin see in this rouge, that he doesn't have or can't offer? 

Chances are I look like a frivolous fop to the intel-trader in turn. Vanya has his reasons. I'm simply being jealous. 

Still stings.

"Besides, I'm not the one who calls the shots solo." Let's hear Pirin's two cents on this.

—"...I'm not sure this would work either, but am willing to try-If, heavily tentative. What bothers me is that you would be--or feel like being unwanted or unwelcome when there comes a day where..." Falters, pauses for a quick second to get his thoughts organized.

By this point, most of the team is aware of him being a vampire and the little 'kinks' that come alongside it aside from the specialized diet. Namely, the whole bonding 'issue' which doesn't allow for polyamory on a biological level...and also psychological to a very large extent.

Something that's taken incredibly seriously, as a vampire's bonded partner- Is literally that individual's life-long partner with no return or cheating. The very reason why vampires had gone down in numbers faster than fairies did in the span of a single century during the slaughter.

"I inevitably have to bond, and will choose Sinbad. Once that point arrives, the arrangement would be rendered null, its purpose defeated. Or this is my perspective on the matter, at the very least." Looking up from the grass of the clearing and embers, the deeply contemplative look in his irises remains as he meets those of his former knight.

—"..Unless you are okay, knowing this...? Also- Isn't polyamory heavily frowned upon in Holistone? Seen as immoral and promiscuous?" 

—"While I admit it does sting, I would still be content with being your partner. Even if secondary." And on the off-chance the 'arrangement' falls apart--I'd be fine with being simply both your friend and wingman. At least then I'd know I tried instead of running away.  Carefully, the former mercenary takes one of the spirit's hands in his own.

"As for whether it's scorned in Holistone- It is, unfortunately. However, who says the people have to know our private affairs anyway? We can simply say we're close friends and tone down the intimacy a notch when in public, get away with the excuse. At most, the three of us would be deemed as eccentrics in a way.

Give it some time, and polyamory will gradually begin to be seen as something mundane rather than a big deal, maybe an eyeroll or crass jab here and there." 

—"So we're all on the same page then?" -The Seaside savant chimes in all too casually, startling his siren out of his thoughts. Valen wrestles with himself to not get jealous- again- as the tanned Captain places his hands on the 'Magister's' hips, resting his chin on the other's shoulder. These two are already pretty much an established couple, it's him who's shaken up the status quo here. It's normal for them to be intimately romantic with each other.

Envy still doesn't listen to rationality, however.

It only merely flares up as Pirin relaxes and lightly leans back, a soft smile of sweet amused fondness playing on his lips, reaching a hand to affectionately ruffle the sailor's messy hair. Or when he cards his fingers through it, smoothing back the adventurer's bangs, out of his face with care.

"Good-'Cause I wanna make one thing clear. No threesomes, no negotiations." The snowy-haired much shorter man halts his ministrations with a look of surprise on his soft face, absolutely red. Sputters, or squeaks out a very embarrassed 'Sinbad! Can't just blurt it out!' under his hitched breath. The swindler's hands lightly squeeze his sharp hips in response as wordless apology. 

—"Fair enough- I wouldn't have asked for it either."

Romance has always somehow made him bit squeamish, or maybe more like the notion of full commitment to someone. Either way, there's something about engaging in sexual acts with multiple partners that simply...doesn't click with him.

Fooling with, romancing multiple people and bedding them, are two different stories.

Although you could have worded it a smidge more tactfully rather than blurting it out. And because he can't resist being his usual cheeky self, Valen goes on to playfully tease.

—"I suppose that makes me your second boyfriend with financial benefits, then." A snort. The three of them start to walk up the trail back to Southville after ensuring the dead embers don't cause another wildfire.

As they saunter up the worn, downtrodden trail leading back to the village, the nocturnal being forces himself to pad at a steadier pace. While his partners stride at his sides with leisurely gait, enjoying the scenery. Until their love couldn't take it anymore and briskly sauntered up ahead a few steps then paused to wait for them, falling back relatively in-step.

Valen loops an arm around his..their? boyfriend's shoulder, pulling the restless ball of energy close, inwardly noting how calm his 'rival' is about it. Full trust, not a speck of jealousy or possessive protectiveness. Instead the dust-blond is perfectly fine with retorting in matching lark, holding the vampire's hand calmly, fingers laced. 

—"Sure, if you don't mind paying the bill." 

—"Don't threaten me with a good time, Sinbad."  —"You two mind the rounds, or you're getting to snore in the garden."   

And the two trouble-makers quickly pin this warning in mind, knowing well it's not an empty threat. 

[kodared]

✰ Stanford & Borrower/Anomaly Reader ✰

fears not enough they have to tear him apart.

Chapter 2/?

Wordcount: 2,684 / 4,741

➤ Summary Based on the borrowers of many universes! I hope you enjoy it, and if you don't know about borrowers, let me be your guide into a world I've loved since I was young. ✰Written because I saw the severe lack of borrower content in Gravity Falls fanfic, i hope you enjoy <3 ✰ - ★Updates irregularly! I write when I want ★ ★ - Also on AO3! - ★

You had spent the better half of that night scheming of ways actually to put your plan into motion. Sure the basic idea sounded easy enough, but you were only about 6 inches tall. His journal might even be taller than you. You tried not to let that thought bother you. 

You had even turned the string lights in your makeshift home on. If you were to think of ways to get the page you needed a comfortable space. You never liked sitting in the dark. 

The only sound in your room was your feet hitting the wooden plank you used as a floor while you paced in a circle. It had to be late at this point, and you could check and see if Ford was still awake, but you knew he’d still be up. 

Once he was enamored by something he stayed up studying, it felt weird for you to be that something, but here you were. 

If you were to take the page out of his journal, you needed something sharp to rip it out. Your needle wouldn’t work, it would take too long to rip the paper. You weren’t too keen on the idea of being caught by the scientist. 

You needed something more similar to a knife a human would use. You knew better than to think of making your own. You weren’t much of a blacksmith or crafter, you tinkered with a lot of things sure, but nothing extravagant. 

Finally getting bored of the scenery of your room, you decided that if you were going to brainstorm anything it would help to look around first. 

You clicked your string lights off and set off into the walls. Your hand fidgets with the needle on your hip anxiously. 

You always had a problem with twiddling with things. Your mother even had to put poison ivy on your nails once so you’d stop picking them and the skin around them. …You still had small scars but you tried not to pick them as bad. 

Absentmindedly walking the dark corridors of the inner walls wasn’t bad now and again. The cottage didn't have any mice, so you didn't have to worry about predators or bugs for that matter.

You wouldn’t have minded befriending a pill bug though, those little critters were always friendly as long as you had a treat for them. 

Your dreams of settling down with a bug friend though would have to wait. Reminding yourself why you came here, you finally felt along the wall for anything that could help. 

You were on the first floor. Meaning you were on the right track to the perfect spot to go looking for scraps the human wouldn’t miss. 

Not that it mattered if he noticed items going missing anymore, he already knew you were here. It was always best to avoid confrontation though.

Gently tapping on the wall as you went, you felt your body stiffening and halting right as you passed the humans room. 

If that was the noise you thought you heard, maybe the plan would be put in action sooner than expected. 

Halting in your tapping you gently pressed your body against the wall, hearing the faint whispers of a snore from beyond the wood. 

Deciding to bite the bullet you pressed harder, feeling the thin wood bend so you could peek. 

True to what you heard, you could see the human, Ford. Passed out at his desk, and even better, the Journal. 

Unguarded and open on his desk next to his hand. He must have been taking notes and fallen asleep. 

If there was any time to waste you weren’t going to be the one to waste it. Quickly pushing off the wall you took off towards the storage room he kept full of random items. 

Usually just rubbish of whatever he was working on at the time, sometimes wires, and more than often boxes full of who knows what. But that didn't matter, because you knew what you were after. 

Cramming yourself against the wall once more you operated quickly. Squeezing through the small crack made by pushing you landed on a box. Quickly you brought your sleeved arm up to stifle your coughing from the sheer amount of dust. 

Would it kill him to dust now and again or was he only interested in studying???

Pushing past your internal cussing you scanned the floor for what you came for to begin with. A small black screw lay on the floor exactly where you recognized it being. Still sharp at the end from disuse, overlooked on the floor for weeks. 

Bingo.

You jumped off of the box, ignoring the protests from your still sprained ankle as you speed walked over to the screw. 

Picking it up it felt cool in your hands. A comforting feeling in the stuffy and still dark room. The only light was from the moonlight that drifted from the window up high. 

Sometimes you wondered if your family was still okay in the woods. If sometimes when you looked at the moon, they where looking at it too. 

You began the long trek back to the humans room, debating whether or not it would be worth it to go back through the walls or just walk on foot. 

Eventually, you decided to just go back through the vent. Climbing back up the box and weaseling your way into the wall would be too much work. Plus the vents usually were easy enough to navigate. 

You used the screw to pry the grate up ever so slightly before using your hands to pull it up the rest of the way. Your wrist also protesting from where you fell on it. You seriously needed to take better care of yourself once this was all over. 

Dropping down into the vents you made sure to pull the grate shut behind you before crawling through the cramped space. Even for you, it was a bit uncomfortable but the cold on your stomach was oddly comforting. 

You oddly preferred a cold room over a warm one, even better if you had a warm piece of cloth. Even as a kid you much liked it better in the early months of fall than in the middle of summer. 

Finally, you could hear the humans' faint snoring from above you, confirming the vents were a pretty straightforward path to his room. 

Taking a deep breath you pushed the grate up. Timing it with his deep snores to make sure he stayed fast asleep.

Clambering up into the open space you could see Ford sleeping at his desk still. His body was uncomfortably curled around and resting on his desk. 

You were no fool. You made sure to plan an escape route just in case he did wake up, quickly scanning the room you could see a small hole in the floorboard. Probably made by the natural cut of the wood, but perfect for you to drop into at a moment's notice. 

You then looked at his desk. Trying to figure out a safe way to travel up it without your fishhook and thread. When something caught your eye. 

The bastard had kept your fishhook. There it lay on his workspace, just barely discernable from your angle on the floor as it glinted in the moonlight. Almost as if it was taunting you. 

Suddenly all the nerves you had were ebbing away into frustration. Who gave him the right to keep your things. You worked hard on getting the proper supplies, and he never noticed. So what gave him the right to pocket it like he made it? 

You made quick work of walking across the floor and getting your footing on the desk leg. The unpolished wood was rough enough to support your hands and feet as you climbed. 

If you could get your fishhook back on top of taking the page you would be ecstatic. Then you could move without worry and find a new place to move into. This would all be behind you and you could talk about it like it was all some bad dream. 

Now was a time for the present though as you neared the top of his desk. You had almost forgotten the human was resting just beside you, frightening yourself as you pulled yourself onto the desk and saw his arm right next to you. 

…You almost forgot how large this guy was. 

He was tall by human standards, you saw him standing next to his assistant before. 

Pushing down your curiosity you peeled your eyes away from the human. 

Quickly scooping up the fishhook and thread that was so rightfully yours. You took one more glance at him to make sure he was asleep. 

By human standards he was attractive. Hell, even by borrower standards he was mildly satisfying. You weren't one of those borrowers who actively sought out humans, but you could admit when someone was pleasing to the eyes. 

He had short brown hair that slightly curled at the ends. His glasses were now crooked with how he pressed his face on top of his arm as a makeshift pillow. You allowed your eyes to scan over him a bit longer. 

Taking in his outfit as well, a simple brown sweater with a collared shirt poking from above it. His usual trenchcoat was hung on the chair he sat on. 

His hands rested on top of his forearms, which- 

… Don't humans usually only have five fingers? 

You could've sworn they had only five. Raising your own you looked back and forth at it. 

You remembered your mother mentioning humans were genetically very similar to borrowers. The only difference is the height, which should mean he would have only five fingers. Not the six he seemed to have on both hands. 

You were getting sidetracked. Soon you wouldn't even be living with this weird scientist, so why did it matter if he had an extra finger? 

Finally focusing on what you came for, you turned your attention to the journal. That cursed, stupid, red journal. The cause of all your anxiety for the past few days. 

He's lucky you're not just burning the entire thing. You weren't above arson, but you didn't want to kill him if the fire got too big. Despite how much you loathed humans. 

You walked over to the journal and skimmed over the page it was open to. To no one's shock, it was open on the page you despised the most. 

Over the top of the pristine white paper was the name he had given you and your species. 

‘Parva persona’. Whatever that meant you didn't care. 

Below it was a crude sketch of what you could only assume was your shadowy figure slinking off into the wall. You thought you dressed better than that in all honesty. He could have atleast drawn you in detail. 

Whatever. Didnt matter as long as the page was gone. He could always rewrite it but you doubt he would remember everything. 

And the more that was lost to time the better in your opinion. 

You placed your foot on the page to hold it down as you positioned the screw at the top of the page. Pressing your whole body weight on it as you dragged it down, it worked beautifully. Leaving a messy tear in its wake. 

You almost forgot about the snoring behind you. 

Until it stopped. 

About halfway through slicing into the cursed paper you heard it. The slight intake of breath. The stutter was all you needed to whip around just in time to catch the human sitting up slightly. 

His eyes were wide as he looked down at you, the holds of sleep still gripping him tightly as he moved sluggishly. 

Screw the page. You dropped the screw and took off to the side of the desk. Already planning on using the hook to drop off the desk and disappear back into the walls before promptly packing your bags and going back to your parents. 

As you were about to drop your hook and use it to swing off the desk, you felt the warmth of his hand on your back once more before those damned fingers curled around your entire being. 

The human wasnt speaking yet but you didn't want to wait to hear him. Thrashing as hard as you could you tried desperately to grab your needle on your hip, but his hand was quick to squish your arms to your sides. 

The dizzying feeling of being lifted off the desk was the next thing you felt. You felt nauseous at the mental image of being manhandled. 

The human was stunned into silence as you screwed your eyes shut, still desperately kicking at his pinkie that held your thighs down. His thumb pressed against your neck and shoulders, almost as if he was examining you. 

Finally, you opened your eyes, and you wished you hadnt. His other hand held his glasses up, pressing them firmly against the bridge of his nose, as if he was afraid he wasnt seeing right. 

His hair messily framed his face as his mouth hung open just a bit. Clearly in awe at what he was seeing. Your heart hammered quickly against your chest as you feared you might die from shock and horror. 

You were stuck. Trapped by a scientist. The most dangerous human to exist to your kind. 

His grip tightened ever so slightly as he tilted you to the left, looking at the items you had on your hip as he lifted his middle finger. Your thighs and shoulder are still pinned to his palm. 

His palm was uncomfortably warm against your back. You hated the feeling of his skin against your clothes. Absentmindedly he used his other hand to poke at the needle on your hip. You contemplated trying to bite him. 

Your blood was rushing past your ears as the effects of vertigo hit your body in full swing once more as he moved. His head tilted to look somewhere beside the desk before you heard him rummaging. 

It was a wonder you weren't passed out at this point as his hand swayed. The motion was natural to him, but entirely foreign to the small sentient being he held in the palm of his hand. 

His eyes focused back on your form as you felt him press something against your side, it was cold and plastic. 

Craning your neck you could see him pressing what appeared to be a ruler to your side. His thumb pressed against your shoulder moving to press against your neck as he held you straight. 

“...6 and a half inches.. That should be impossible..” 

His voice boomed in your ears as you felt the beginnings of a headache nagging at the back of your eyes. In all reality, he was probably whispering. It didn't matter though combined with the closeness he held you at. 

His thumb was beginning to press a bit too hard into your neck and you saw spots forming in your vision. Your body kicked up in squirms as you desperately tried to squeeze in another full breath of air. 

He was quick to notice as he moved his thumb back to your shoulder. 

“Sorry!- I didn't realize, maybe I could..” 

He sat down the ruler before taking a few quick notes. Your vision cleared as you sucked in precious oxygen again. 

Your vision was just starting to clear fully as your brain caught up with his rummaging. He was once again rifling beside his desk. When you saw him pull a jar up into your vision you felt your blood run cold. 

You did not want to be put in a jar. Going into a jar meant transporting you. Which meant you where going down into that lab. 

   “Stop!-” 

The frantic words left your mouth before you could stop them, and you felt the human practically completely freeze. His calculating eyes pierced into your very soul as you felt him grip you ever so slightly tighter.  “You can talk!”

-- --- - - - --

Hope you enjoyed!! Will ford be nicer next chapter? Who knows!! I sure dont!!! ✰ Let me know if you enjoyed in the comments!!! I love reading them :)!!! Feel free to send me any asks in my askbox if you want as well! ✰

╱|、♡ (` - 7 |、⁻〵 じしˍ,)ノ

[deviousdeliciousness]

Pinning Board - G/T Story Prompt

Fairy g/t

This is a story idt I'd do myself (the premise is a bit darker than my usual, even), but I feel like it would be a really good read if anyone managed it, since it has many opportunities to apply liberal angst (hopefully with a happy ending).

----

Fairy gets caught in a giant's net and passes out.

Wakes up in a terrarium with the room outside of it being just wall after wall covered in pinned fairies, their lifeless glass eyes seeming staring back at them.

The Doc that captured them is mildly sad but not surprised when the fairy is seemingly hostile/afraid of him.

Doc thinks fairies are pretty much mindless creatures, little more than butterflies. He doesn't kill them, though! He lets them live out the full extent of their lives, providing them with whatever they might want/need, and when they pass, he pins them to continue admiring their beauty after their deaths.

Little does he know, fairies are more than sentient, and they rely on happiness (or maybe hope or freedom or some rare thing they can only get in their natural environment) to live, so it wasn't that fairies have short lifespans that made them die so quickly in the Doc's care, it was that they were miserable and terrified and were slated to die because of the fate the Doc had unwittingly handed to them.

Big oof potential ya'll.

For the good resolution, maybe our main fairy boi has/finds some way to communicate with the Doc that the other fairies didn't try out of fear/panic/misery/hopelessness. Doc is devastated when he finds out and rightfully sickened when he realizes what he's done.

.... okay I'm not sure how good an ending this can have with the premise ngl but uhhh, yeah here's the thought of the day!

[torakan]

part one

i decided to write it down because why not

also, english isn’t my native language, so if there’re some mistakes, please tell me in the comments

the art

Okay, so you probably wonder why I even started talking, right? Why begin telling my story? Well, simply because I find it quite interesting and very unusual for our kind. So, if you’d like, I’ll probably start…

So, when I was about 18 years old, I’ve been already living all by myself since I was accidentally taken away from my family when humans with whom we were living moved away. I had to adapt a lot since I didn’t really want to die haha… but I survived and now I’m all healthy and wealthy so there’s no need to worry.

After a year they changed home again because they were having a baby or something. I didn’t care all that much to remember. However, this time I remained at that building since nobody had seen me yet and I had already had kind of a home in the walls. It would’ve been such a pain in the ass to adapt again, you know?

Living in an apartment was nice and it was a lot easier to walk around than in countryside houses for an obvious reason - distance. When I had been living in a huge residence, borrowing a bit of food could’ve taken ages to accomplish, but in smaller one it took just a few hours while the human was outside or asleep.

The bean I lived with was a guy around my age, maybe a little older since, as I heard, it’s a common practise for humans to separate themselves from their parents at the age of 21. I didn’t know his name, but from the glimpses I caught of him, he was quite a pretty one, though a bit dark, he has always been wearing black clothes. I mean, me too, but mine were just old and dirty, I didn’t really have a choice. He was quiet, didn’t invite too many people and stuck to his schedule most of the time, so I was lucky to be there. Until that day came…

That day the last bits of food I had were over, so I had to find something to not die of starvation. I was stupid enough to go borrowing during the day, but before you say something, I need you to give me some credit! I knew for sure that he would’ve not been at home till late hours, so I had plenty of time to do that and I was hungry, so it wasn’t completely my fault, right?

My way to the kitchen counter, where the most accessible food was kept, lay through the bookshelf where some books, plants and other strange stuff stood. I liked it there, it was the darkest spot in the room, a nice place for hiding and the guy has never looked there. So, I took my standard borrowing gear – the rope with a hook in it, old ass boots with double-sided tape on them and a bag to put food in there – and was already all set to go, when I heard a click. That could’ve meant only one thing – the human was back. Why did that even happen in the first place, I didn’t know, but it remained a solid fact and I had to run away and hide despite everything. I hid in that dark spot just in time when that guy entered the kitchen. My heart was jumping in my chest as fast as a captured bird, it was so scary, you guys can’t even imagine… I was carefully watching a human moving around – he was preparing food and some tea as quickly as possible while talking on the phone with someone. But because my heart was thumping so loudly in my chest, all his words sounded muffled as if I was under water and I didn’t catch what he was saying. What I knew for sure - he must’ve been in a huge hurry.

And suddenly, I stopped breathing – the bean disappeared from my view, and I didn’t know whether he left the room or just sat down or wasn’t in the house anymore in general. All I could do was pray for my own safety, but apparently, I was too small for whoever rules this world to hear my prayers. I swear to god, I almost lost my shit there when a huge eye appeared in my sight covering everything I could see before. I was spotted by a human and not only that, but I was also alone and with no place to run away to. All I could do, apart from jut die then and there, was to hide behind a book and silently cry from hopelessness of this situation.

“Oh!” I heard human saying. No wonder he was surprised, I would’ve been too if I saw something I only heard about from tales, like a fairy or something.

But that voice was finally a trigger for me to start moving at least, because before all I could do was to stare back and hope him to think I was a doll or at least a figment of his imagination. I picked all my things and ran away with a speed of a fucking sound, or at least I tried my best to.

“No, wait!” the guy spoke again. “Please, don’t be scared… I mean no harm…”

Yeah, sure, and I’m a princess Cinderella.

When I finally had a chance to go out of that spot, it was already nighttime, and the human was asleep. My body was weak from all those hours it trembled in fear and didn’t have any food or water. It was also kind of a good thing since I wouldn’t have had access to the toilet, you know what I mean?

By the time I got to the place where I live, I was no better than a walking zombie, so all I did was plop down on the bed and pray it was just a nightmare.

next

[jaiwritesgiantswoahh]

g/t story for you!! (parts warning! this is part one!)

tobias walked down the hallway of the all-inclusive high school, trying his best to stay away from the human students as he made his way to his next period. although, he wasn't like the other giants walking by him.. this giant was part vampire. meaning he could walk in the sun, garlic didn't hurt him, and he actually likes the cross necklaces he sees. however... that does mean he has the hunger for blood like a vampire. usually he doesnt feed into this hunger; he eats lots of red meats and that usually keeps it down. however, at this moment, the vampire hadn't eaten any bloody foods in a good while, and he really was craving something better than just a steak.

but that would have to wait; he has to get to his class, of course!

as the bell rang and signalled the beginning of 4th period, the vampire giant sped up his walk, being nearly the only one in the hallways at this point. however, unbeknownst to him, there was a human girl full on running down the pathway, panting and desperately trying to reach her own 4th period before the late bell rang. as a human, her walking speed wasn't nearly as fast as a giant's, and since the school was built for a giant... she wasn't exactly making good time.

most students had the help of a giant friend to get them to class on time; the schedules were strategically arranged so that every human had at least one giant that shared their next period. today, however, the giant that was supposed to get Kiara to her next period was absent, and as much as she loathed walking.... she absolutely detested the only other giant that could get her to this class—

and that giant was tobias.

now, toby didn't have a track record of being mean. he simply kept to himself and would rather draw and listen to music than socialize. who needed people when he has his Rammstein? he actually didn't mind kiara. he, of course, wasn't exactly friends with her, but he didn't dislike her. she was one of those people who got along with anyone and everyone. so outgoing that she can light up a room with just her smile. so sweet that she can lift the spirits of anyone she graces with her presence.

and tobias just... doesn't. he's not that kind of person. he doesn't smile unless he has a reason to, and he doesn't know how to make someone happy.

but back to business.

kiara looked behind her briefly as she felt footsteps, nearly sighing in relief as she thought she felt a giant who could take her to her class. but as soon as her eyes landed on toby, the human female scoffed, finally stopping in her run.

"hey! toby!" kiara waved her arms as she watched the giant boy approach.

"hm?" tobias finally looked up from what he was doing, scanning the ground for a sign of life nearby. as soon as he saw kiara... the girl who was sweet to everyone except him.. he stopped, looking down with a gentle look. "can i.. help you, kiara?" the teen slipped his black and purple headphones off his head, letting them rest around his neck to give kiara his full attention.

kiara seemed to tense under the gaze of the giant. she wasnt afraid of him hurting her... but she couldn't help but admit that he's terrifying. his shoulder length, dark brown hair resting above the orange colored eyes that nearly pierced her soul gave him a bit of a shaggy, monstrous look. his hair was teased a little, giving it a poofy effect while still looking maintained and presentable. unlike his dark red sweater, that had mysterious stains and perpetually snagged threads on it, complimented by his ripped, black jeans and combat boots. he wore various chains, a couple pentants looped into the chains around his neck, and a pair of silver cross earrings hanging from his pointed ears. hidden behind his round lips were a pair of sharp fangs where normal canines should be, as well as a pointed tongue with a single stud piered into it.

"y-y.. um-" kiara choked out as she tried to form a sentance, distracted by his rugged appearance. "are you going to mr. bates's class next?" she managed to spit out a full sentence without stuttering, but she stroked her long ginger hair in anxiety.

"uh, yeah. why? need a ride?" tobias suddenly kneeled down, causing kiara to stumble backwards, nearly tripping on her black flats.

at this, toby reached forward, but stopped short, showing her his open palm that seemed ready to snatch her up. his pale, slender fingers retracted when she regained her footing, but he still seemed ready to catch her if she needed it.

"i-i do! please.." kiara muttered, averting her soft, light blue eyes from his bright amber colored ones.

"alright.. wanna, uh.." before finishing his sentence, toby laid his hand flat in front of kiara, giving her the option to climb on by herself in favor of just picking her up.

kiara stared at his palm for a moment, but slowly took a deep, prepatory breath and stepped closer to the massive, offending appendage.

[gravitywonagain]

rounding out my depressing little triptych with lwj's pov

[dialog only] [wwx's pov]

[M, 4k, 1/1, Wangxian]

Tags: Major Character Death, suicide, suicide by zhiji (but, like, softly?), time travel, hurt/comfort but mostly hurt, I’m not going to lie this is all angst, not a happy ending (i’ve added a tiny consolation ending but it’s not really enough here)

--

There is a cave. Lan Wangji spotted it as he flew to Yiling once, so long ago. Too long ago. Maybe if he’d returned earlier, maybe if he’d stayed--

There is a cave. 

Lan Wangji knows his core is spinning low; he feels the pulse of it struggling through his meridians, qi sluggish and dwindling. His body droops, too heavy for his bones to carry. Bichen’s tip wavers where he points it. The descent, when he makes it, is fast. 

In his arms, Wei Ying is light as feathers. 

The cave is easy enough to find. Too easy, probably, to be safe for very long. But it’s his only option now. 

They cannot go back to Yiling. They cannot seek refuge among any of the sects, even his own. They cannot hide within a town, among people who could be hurt by the black, curling resentment leaking out of Wei Ying’s skin. And he could not leave Wei Ying where he was to die. 

The cave is deeper than Lan Wangji had anticipated, which is good. He carries Wei Ying inside, steps light and as even as he can make them. 

Darkness swallows them whole. 

He lays Wei Ying gently down upon the rough stone floor. Considers pillowing Wei Ying’s head in his lap -- like the last time they were in a dark cave together, qi and confessions flowing between them. But he doesn’t have the qi to spare this time. Depleted. He’ll have to settle for confessions alone. 

Somewhere deeper in, water drips into a pool. The sound of it bounces off the stone, echoing along the tunnels. 

Lan Wangji folds himself into a meditative pose and times his breath with the rhythm of it. If he can rebuild some of his spent qi, he can pass some to Wei Ying. He can protect Wei Ying if others find them here. He can get Wei Ying out, hide him somewhere--

“Did you see them, Lan Zhan? Did you see?”

He hadn’t noticed Wei Ying waking. Hadn’t heard the change in his breath, or pulse. Both are still so slow. So deathly slow. 

“Wei Ying--”

“United in their hate.”

Wei Ying sounds so tired. So fed up with the world, and who would blame him for it? 

Well… 

Lan Wangji feels anger and remorse thick in his throat. He says, “Let me--” But Wei Ying cuts him off again. 

“But they were united.”

He sighs with something that sounds like… hope. Relief, perhaps. Which makes little sense. 

“Wei Ying?”

Wei Ying shifts, turning to look at Lan Wangji, his smile barely visible through the blood and bruises in the low light of the cave. It is still the most beautiful expression Lan Wangji has ever seen. 

His voice is softer when he says, “It doesn’t work if there’s no villain, Lan Zhan. This world doesn’t work if there’s no one to hate.”

United, he’d said. 

But it still doesn’t make sense. With no other recourse, Lan Wangji says as much, “I don’t understand.”

But Wei Ying doesn’t answer him this time. He doesn’t explain. He rolls his head so his eyes are pointed up at the cave ceiling. 

“You should go,” he says, as if that was something Lan Wangji could do. “Leave me. They’ll only hurt you if they find you here.” As if that was some unexpected outcome, a deterrent to staying by Wei Ying’s side. 

“I won’t leave you.”

A harsh, rasping breath breaks in Wei Ying’s throat -- not unlike a laugh, yet so unlike the laugh that lives in Lan Wangji’s dreams. “So stubborn, Lan Zhan. So good. Always so good.”

Lan Wangji feels his blood beat in the tips of his ears. It is Wei Ying, not Lan Wangji, who is good. But to hear him say it… 

“Wei Ying, I--”

Again, Wei Ying interrupts him. 

“At least Shijie is alive this time.”

It’s an odd turn of phrase that catches Lan Wangji’s attention. 

“This time?”

In the darkness, Lan Wangji watches Wei Ying’s eyes fall closed. It’s not unlike the way Brother shuts out the world when it is too much, too harsh, too fast. 

The silence between them stretches, broken only by the steady dripping of water that continues to echo, like a clock that counts down the dwindling moments they have left. Like this, time flows too fast, trickling away between breaths and heart beats. Still, Lan Wangji waits. He does not push Wei Ying to answer him. He’s not even really sure what his question is. 

“Yes,” Wei Ying says, at last. 

Another rasping rattle of a laugh. 

That weary exhaustion hangs heavy in his voice as he turns his head to regard Lan Wangji once more. “Oh, Lan Zhan, I’ve done this so many times. I’m so tired.”

The first… Lan Wangji has no idea how to decipher. It sounds confused, mad, nonsensical. Yet Wei Ying says it with perfect lucidity. Whatever it means, he seems to believe it enough to be weary of it in a way that pierces bone. 

But the second: This, at least, Lan Wangji can help assuage. 

“Rest. I will be here.”

Wei Ying squirms against the stone where he lays. Contrary, as ever. 

Lan Wangji aches to take him into his arms, to hold him close and keep him safe. His old desire, his avarice, gnaws at the base of his breastbone. But he knows now that Wei Ying will not come to him willingly, and Lan Wangji will never cage him, even for his own safety. 

“They’re coming,” Wei Ying’s throat sounds full of gravel. But his words are timely -- a reminder that any cage Lan Wangji might offer is no longer an option anyway. They both know who they are. And Wei Ying is right. Still right as he continues, “They’ll be here soon. They’ll take you.” But then, “You should let them take you.”

Something like fury rises in Lan Wangji’s blood. Growling and thrashing in his gut. “I will not le--”

“A'Yuan needs you, Lan Zhan.” Lan Wangji’s blood freezes. “Let them take you.”

Wei Ying doesn’t plead with him, and Lan Wangji doesn’t know whether he should feel grateful for that or not. He would not be capable of refusing him if he pleaded. 

He may not be capable of refusing him anyway. 

“Wei Ying?”

“It’s okay. I– Like I said,” Wei Ying smiles, small but sincere, “it doesn’t work if there’s no villain.”

Lan Wangji thinks he’s beginning to understand. But, “Why you?”

“If not me, then who?”

Tears burn behind Lan Wangji’s eyes. Because of course Wei Ying would offer himself up for this. For this, for the Wen remnants, for any cause deemed worthy and right. He is still that beautiful boy who painted a rabbit on a lantern and pledged his life to protecting the weak and standing with justice. 

Lan Wangji holds the tears at bay with clenched fists. “Not you.”

It works, if only just. If only simply delaying the inevitable. But then, all of this is simply delaying the inevitable, isn’t it. A brief respite. The world will not change while Wei Ying and Lan Wangji are hiding away in this cave. 

Wei Ying inhales -- a ghastly sound, wet and ragged and rattling. 

“It’s okay, Lan Zhan. I know.” Lan Wangji’s heart leaps into his throat, and Wei Ying says, again, gently, soothing, “I know. You’ve stayed with me before.”

“Before?”

It’s that strange tense again. Does he mean the cave with the false xuanwu? 

“Yes. You’re always so good. Too good. They hurt you when you fight. Don’t-- Don’t let them hurt you. A'Yuan needs you.”

“A'Yuan?”

It’s the second time Wei Ying has mentioned him. The boy who brought a smile to Wei Ying’s eyes. Who wrapped himself around Lan Wangji’s leg, full-bodied with trust and wide-eyed with wonder. 

“He needs you to raise him,” Wei Ying says, latching on to whatever it is he hears in Lan Wangji’s voice. “I know you’ll take such good care of him, Lan Zhan. You always do.”

This time. Before. Always.

“Wei Ying, I don’t understand.”

“I know. It’s okay.”

It’s nothing, meaningless, but it soothes him all the same. 

This man. This beautiful, brave, brilliant man. The light is low, but Lan Wangji can still see the radiance shining out of this man he loves. 

The time continues to drip away from him, from them both. He made a confession once, in a cave like this. But whether Wei Ying heard it, grasped it, understood it… Remembers it. Lan Wangji doesn’t believe he’ll have many more chances after this. 

“Please,” he says, “Wei Ying, I--”

“Don’t say it.” It’s almost a sob. As much of a sob as Wei Ying’s broken body can manage, Lan Wangji would guess. “Don’t say it, Lan Zhan. It only hurts more if you say it. If I-- Don’t say it.”

Of course. He already said he knows, after all. 

The ache is less than he imagined it would be. He swallows it down. 

“Okay. Okay, Wei Ying.”

“Let them take you. When they come, just go with them. Don’t fight.”

Obstinance returns, a welcome distraction. 

“They will kill you.”

“Yes.”

“I won’t--”

“You must.” Lan Wangji wants to throttle him, just so he stops interrupting. 

“They need a villain,” Wei Ying repeats. “They don’t need two. But if you stay with me, if you fight them for me, that is what you become. A'Yuan needs you.”

His voice breaks over A’Yuan’s name, and Lan Wangji breaks for him again. 

“Okay. Okay, Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying moves slowly. His sleeve drags against the stone, a strangely soft sound for the roughness of the materials making it. 

He reaches toward Lan Wangji and asks, “Hold my hand?”

“But--”

“I only said not to say it. Not that it’s unwelcome.”

His touch is surprisingly warm. Lan Wangji laces their fingers together and traces the lines of Wei Ying’s veins with his other hand.

“Wei Ying--” he tries again, but Wei Ying shushes him. 

“Hush now, Lan Zhan. Just hold me. They’ll be here soon.”

It’s cold, in the cave. With his core depleted, Lan Wangji feels it seeping in through the many layers of his robes. He hurts -- everywhere. His heart, certainly, but there’s the ache of overtaxed muscles as well, and the nettle-bite of a hundred tiny cuts, partially healed and stinging for it. 

He thinks he will hurt much more before the night is through. 

Wei Ying’s breath is shallow and murky, but it’s even. His pulse is weak beneath his pale, thin skin. Resentment bleeds from somewhere under his robes, spilling sluggishly and sapping whatever remains of Wei Ying’s warmth. 

He’s dying, Lan Wangji knows. He’s dying, and there’s nothing Lan Wangji can do to save him. 

So Lan Wangji turns his mind to other problems. The other thing, the tenses that seem out of place, but possibly are not. 

Wei Ying is ingenious. He has created things -- terrible, powerful things -- that no one had imagined, that now everyone clamors for. If anyone could… what? Reverse the flow of time? Step in and out of the stream, perhaps? It would be him. 

“If you’ve done this before,” Lan Wangji asks, “why not fix it? Why not live?”

Wei Ying does not seem surprised by the question. But, if he’s done this before, perhaps he answered it before. Perhaps none of this is new to him. 

“It doesn’t work,” Wei Ying sighs. “It all falls apart. The clans fall to each other if not to Wen Ruohan. They need--”

“A villain. So you’ve said.” Lan Wangji can’t stand to hear the easy acceptance in Wei Ying’s voice as he repeats the brand again. 

“Ah, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying’s lungs fail to contain his excitement, and he coughs wetly around what might have been a laugh. He says, “Interrupting me, so bold!”

Which is truly--

“I am trying to understand.”

“I know. I know. There’s no time. Which will be very funny to you later. Nothing but time. Maybe I will see you again, Lan Zhan.”

And maybe he will, but will Lan Wangji see Wei Ying again? If they’ve done this all before, what happens to Lan Wangji when Wei Ying starts over? He certainly has no memory of this. Where does Wei Ying begin again? Is it even the same stream in time, or simply another branch in the watershed? 

These questions and more pile up in Lan Wangji’s throat, too thick to speak through. 

In the end, they don’t matter because, “They will kill you.”

“Yes. Yes, and you should let them. So you can save A'Yuan.” A’Yuan, again. 

Wei Ying turns away from him, then. He doesn’t pull his hand back, and Lan Wangji finds he is pathetically grateful for this small comfort allowed to him. 

“Maybe,” Wei Ying says, “maybe you can make them all see. Make them open their eyes in the Burial Mounds. Make them see who it is they’re running through.”

The Burial Mounds. The Wens. The tiny village of broken men and women who have drawn life from a mountain made of death. 

Lan Wangji cannot fathom why the sects would besiege such a place, yet he knows that they must. That they’ve been threatening it for months. And now that Wei Ying is injured, now that his general has burned, now that his power source has shattered to pieces and the Burial Mounds are left defenseless… Now, he supposes, they must. Or else allow themselves to be called cowards by those who desire power more than justice. 

And Wei Ying has done this before. 

He brings their entwined hands to his mouth, but stops before he can touch his lips to Wei Ying’s skin. Not unwelcome, but not welcome, either. 

“Why can’t we show them together, Wei Ying? Why?”

“It doesn’t work. It’s too late for me. You saw what I did to them. You saw the monster I’ve become.”

The monster they made him into. It was their own hunger for the Yin Tiger Seal that drove Wei Ying to destroy it. The chaos that rained down, a disaster brought about by their greed, their prejudice, their failure to see Wei Ying and all that he was and cherish him as he deserved. 

Lan Wangji’s own failure. 

“Wei Ying--”

“I asked you to kill me once. If I was too far gone. Do you remember that?”

Lan Wangji freezes, his blood thickens and slows like ice in his veins. 

Of course he remembers. That night haunts him, will forever haunt him, now. The night he should have pulled himself up onto a horse and rode with them. The night he should have trusted Wei Ying. Should have protected him. 

His jaw barely moves, “I do.”

“Would you do it now?”

“Wei Ying?!” Lan Wangji jumps to his feet, dropping Wei Ying’s hand and immediately missing the touch. But he cannot-- He cannot. 

“I know,” Wei Ying says, a rueful edge to his tone. “You’re too good, Lan Zhan. You never agree to that.”

This time. Before. Always. Never. 

“Wei Ying, please.” Lan Wangji cannot hold the whine in his throat. 

“I could make you.”

There’s something in Wei Ying’s voice when he says it. Something malicious. 

No. Venomous. 

It is not evil. Wei Ying is not evil. He is good, sunlight, righteousness. 

Even the black and white banded snake strikes only in defense, or in hunger. Which is this, Lan Wangji wonders. Defense, or hunger?

“Wei Ying?”

“I could make you kill me,” he says, the venom thick on his tongue. “I haven’t tried that before. You would be the hero, then maybe you could stop the slaughter.”

“You are not a villain, Wei Ying!” His voice sounds harsh to his own ears. It ricochets off the stone walls like a rock slide in a canyon. Loud, crashing, and trembling. 

“I am,” Wei Ying presses. “I’m a monster, haven’t you heard? A demon. You would be venerated for putting me down.”

Wei Ying’s eyes -- clever and cruel -- begin to take on that eerie red hue, and Lan Wangji can’t stand it. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what else he can do. He has tried listening, he has tried confessing, he has tried arguing. None of it makes a difference. 

The tears he’s held back begin to burn once more. Insistent. Desperate. 

His body moves for him, seeking comfort in penance as it has over and over again. He spreads his skirts and kneels on the uneven stone. 

The stone is colder now, like the cold of snow over gentian blooms. It is rough and rugged like gravel. 

But he remembers that kneeling alone has never worked before. Kneeling alone has brought him nothing but absolution -- a release from the punishment, but not release from longing, not release from his own ruthless hunger. 

His mouth moves for him, “Please…”

He watches his tears fall, the curve of them catching whatever light is left in this cave. They shine like diamonds. 

“Please, Wei Ying…” 

They are as useless to him as diamonds. 

“It would crush you to do it, I know.” 

The ice in Wei Ying’s voice thaws a little. But Lan Wangji can see determination still flickering in his eyes. The red has faded, at least. The silver seems dulled with exhaustion. 

“We could do it together,” Wei Ying offers, “you and I. Draw your sword, Lan Zhan.”

“No.”

Lan Wangji tucks his fingers into fists and squeezes tight. It’s all he can do not to scream. Not to rage. Not to flee. 

“Lan Zhan, they’ll kill me either way. Let me die like this: in your arms, with you by my side.”

“I can’t--”

“A quick slide, right through my ribs. It will be almost peaceful this way.”

Almost peaceful --

“No!”

“You can hold me.” 

Lan Wangji feels the offer like a slap. He closes his eyes against it, against the want that curls in him even now. Even like this. 

“They’ll praise you for it.” Wei Ying knows him well enough to sound sorry about it. “You’ll hate that, but then the spoils will be yours. You can claim them. It could work, Lan Zhan.”

The spoils. The Wens. A’Yuan. As if anyone would allow him this. As if he wouldn’t have to wrench it from their greedy, grasping hands. 

“Wei Ying, please do not ask this of me.”

“It’s too much. I know. I know, Zhiji.”

Zhiji. I still am. 

Lan Wangji knows he’s being placated, but he doesn’t care. He grasps at the word -- the acknowledgment -- with both hands. He clutches them into Wei Ying’s bloody robes. 

“Zhiji. Zhiyin. Wei Ying.”

It still feels exhilarating to say. To speak into existence. Into memory. 

“You would do it if I asked you to. I know you would.” 

He would. It’s true. 

What does that make him? A monster? A fool? 

Tears stream down Lan Wangji’s face. He can feel their tracks on his cheeks. A deluge, unstoppable. Unimportant. 

Wei Ying bites his lip, turning it even paler around the dull edges of his teeth. 

“But is that something I can let myself ask of you? Is it too cruel? To make you bear this with me? To make you take some of the weight.”

He isn’t asking Lan Wangji. Not really. He’s thinking through a problem. Lan Wangji’s input is neither required nor requested. His opinion, his desire, is known. 

Lan Wangji begs anyway. 

“Please, don’t… Please, Wei Ying.”

Even as he does, he knows. He knows how this will end and he hates himself for it. He wishes, just for a moment, that he could be like his father. That he could say, No. You’re coming with me. I will keep you safe, whether you like it or not. 

But he can’t. 

Wei Ying is right. There are only so many ways forward. This one… This one could save lives. Possibly. Potentially. 

It’s excruciating. Like tilling soil on a mountain of bones. 

“Draw your sword, Lan Zhan.”

Bichen comes easy to his hands, once he’s untwisted them from Wei Ying’s robes. The white of the scabbard is too clean, too bright, for this place. The blade, too pure. 

“Wei Ying.”

“Good. Good. It’ll be quick. So quick.”

Lan Wangji knows well the speed at which life can drain from a body. 

He helps Wei Ying sit up as he slides himself down. Wei Ying is still far too thin, but the weight of him as he settles back against Lan Wangji’s chest is grounding. Lan Wangji tries to focus on that. On the places he and Wei Ying are pressed together. An embrace. A last comfort for Lan Wangji to hold onto. 

“Don’t worry,”Wei Ying says, “they’ll be here soon. They’ll see. They’ll help you. Your brother will help you.” 

Bichen’s tip settles easily -- too easily -- between the ladder-rungs of Wei Ying’s ribs. The blue light lends a sickly hue to Wei Ying’s pallor, but catches in his eyes like cold, crisp winter mornings. 

“Yes, right there.” 

The angle -- the angle that will kill Wei Ying with the least pain, the least suffering, the-- the fastest… It strains at Lan Wangji’s shoulder and elbow. He doesn’t have the qi to spend to hold Bichen with only his core. He has to use his hand. 

He has to use his hand. For this. 

“It’s okay, Lan Zhan. It’s okay. It’s okay if it’s you.”

“This is not--”

“I know. I know. Just hold me.”

This is not what they meant when they said this in the rain. Either of them. This is not what they wanted when they came to this cave. Either of them. 

But Wei Ying believes it will work, and Lan Wangji trusts Wei Ying. 

He wishes--

No. The time for wishes has passed. But there is, perhaps, time left one thing. 

“Wei Ying?”

“Yes, Lan Zhan?”

“May I say it.”

“Ha. Yes, Lan Zhan. I think. I think I’d like to hear it.”

“I love you, Wei Ying.”

“I know. I love you, too, Lan Zhan.”

“I know.”

And he finds he does know. Because as much as he trusts Wei Ying, Wei Ying is trusting him, too. He is here. In Lan Wangji’s arms. Ready to die. Ready for Lan Wangji to kill him. Because it is right. This time. 

Lan Wangji’s tears spill onto Wei Ying’s shoulder. 

“It’s okay, Lan Zhan. Deep breath. That’s it. It’s okay. It will be okay.”

“What’s that?”

But he knows. 

“Footsteps. They’re almost here.”

Lan Wangji nods. 

Wei Ying starts to beg. 

“Lan Zhan, please. You can do it. Please. Lan Zh--”

A short slide. 

“Wei Ying.”

The only light in the world goes out. 

--

“Wei Ying.”

.

“I love you.”

.

“I’m here.”

.

.

.

When his family enters the cavern, they bring with them talismans of light. Dozens of elders follow behind Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren, but Lan Wangji only really sees his brother. 

“Wangji?”

A sob cracks its way out of Lan Wangji’s chest. 

“Xiongzhang. He’s gone.”

Lan Xichen is gracious. His eyes don’t stray from Lan Wangji’s. Not to Wei Ying’s body, or the way Lan Wangji is clutching at it. Not to Bichen, dropped numbly to the ground, blood, red and glistening, wetting several inches at the tip. 

Not even to Lan Wangji’s bare forehead. Or to the ribbon wrapped -- too hastily, too late -- around Wei Ying’s wrist. 

He lets their uncle, their elders, witness those things. 

Lan Xichen simply kneels down before his brother and whispers, “Oh, Wangji.”

--

(Lan Wangji's love is kept secret. His vanquishing of the evil Yiling Laozu turned legend. He retreats from the world and builds a home for the Wens, this time on a mountain that is already green with life and rich with promise.)

(He wanders in the forgotten places, the places that do not know him. And he teaches his son that rumor is not to be trusted.)

(Lan Wangji will never be more grateful that Wei Ying didn't ask him to sing again as he is when he hears their song played on a poorly cut flute and thinks only of life, survival, and love.)