#can you tell how hard I worked to make the redstone look less like blood lmao

[tubbytarchia]

Dragon Grian doing pesky bird things as requested by @parchmentengineer!! (For kindly finding me a way to hide Tumblr post notes/numbers, thank you so much!!! Tumblr has been so nice to use since <3

[dr3amofagame]

Sooo... how about that reveal that c!Sam wasn’t feeding c!Dream? I mean, we all knew it was coming, but still. The auto food dispenser probably broke or smtg bc when c!Sam came down, c!Dream asked if he was there to give them potatoes. (Also with him being shaken up by learning c!Tommy is alive, c!Sam might not remember or care to feed c!Dream, who has none of his stores of potatoes left.) So, assuming the dispenser is broken and he doesn’t know, why would he come down in the first place? 🟩⛏?

hello anon !! yeah that reveal ,, dang, we already knew that c!sam had presumably been starving c!dream, but to see not only c!dream but c!sam confirm it as well as it having lasted AT LEAST a week ,, d a n g . they are Not pulling any punches in this arc (which, i mean, judging on the q stream, isnt exactly surprising anymore,, but still)

in the prison guard stream, we see how the dispenser works - it’s not automatic as much as it’s remote, as c!sam or the prison guards still need to press a button in order to dispense food. he also says “i havent even been around to feed the prisoner” or something along those lines in tommy’s stream, so we can conclude that the decision to deprive c!dream of food after c!tommy’s death is INTENTIONAL,, which i mean. again. yikes. 

anyway, here’s a snippet of c!dream finding out that the “automatic” feeder isnt as automatic as he might’ve thought - here, the dispenser + crying obsidian are installed at around the same time, so it’s between bad and sapnap’s visit

tw: starvation, disordered eating, abuse, mental illness, self-hatred, toxic relationship, gaslighting, disturbing imagery, dark content, c!sam/warden!sam critical (again, be careful with the content warnings)

Dream stares up at the hole in the obsidian, barely able to make out a glint of metal in the dark chute. The dispenser, just as expected, doesn’t respond to his glare, refuses to whir and click in the way that indicates food, and Dream bites his tongue, mumbles curses under his breath.

“Prick,” he blows a breath through his gritted teeth, only more irrationally angry when the dispenser, as expected, ignores him. “Some automatic dispenser, Warden.”

The walls don’t respond. Nothing responds, here, besides the dark dark thoughts swirling in his brain, and he thinks he’d prefer it if those didn’t - or maybe he doesn’t, because company is company, even if said company is the same litany of blood anger revenge pain you deserve this you deserve all of this you have destroyed the world now lie in the bed you have made pounding at the base of his skull. He drags his hand down his face; every minute is an hour, and every hour is a minute. Time has no meaning when your only frame of reference is eternity.

Even so, even he can tell that it’s been a long time since he’s had food, even by his usual standards - several days, at least, because the ever-present ache of hunger in his gut had swelled into something angrier, demanding, no longer as easy to ignore. Another stabbing round of pain nearly sends him to his knees, and just as he always he does, he clings to the feeling, gathers it into his hands, grabs it by the edges and directs the sharp edges into the words he spits at the indifferent walls. Let the Warden hear him - what can he possibly do?

Just as it always does, the fury in him peters out, drains, leaves him alone in the middle of his cell. He sinks the ground, arms wrapped around his stomach; a part of him wants to laugh at the irony. Some people think of silence as emptiness, void; he knows now that it’s anything but. Silence is suffocating, thick, so present that anything he says seems to get lost within it seconds after leaving his mouth. It grows and pushes into his limbs, becomes a weight tied around his throat, expands into the air in his lungs like a slowly inflating balloon until it’s pressed into every corner and space of the cell, every corner and space of him, taking up so much room that he can hardly breathe around it.

The hunger hollows him out, and the silence fills the space that’s left; Dream wonders how much more there is for him to lose before he’s completely empty, just a husk filled with the same liquid misery that drips down the walls. He wonders if anyone would care- laughs. As if.

“Dream.” The intercom crackles; Dream perks up at the voice, spine straightening against his will, and his hands tighten into fists as he realizes - prime, how pathetic is he, now? The voice deepens, becomes more insistent. “Prisoner.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Or maybe I’m not; you better come and check, yeah?” A humorless smile tugs at his lips, and a static-filled sigh comes through the speaker.

“This isn’t the time for games, Dream.”

Dream rolls his eyes. It’s not exactly the time to be a dick, either, but you don’t see me complaining. A flutter of something warm, joyful, rises in his chest at the sound of something- someone, other than his own voice, and he strangles it with a hand wrapped around his own throat - he won’t let them break him, won’t let himself become desperate enough to crave the attention of a man that hates him - he won’t- he can’t-

“Do you need something? Or were you yelling at the wall for no reason again?” Sam’s voice is steely, indifferent, on a knife’s edge between apathy and anger. “Don’t waste my time, prisoner.”

Dream bites down the snarky reply sitting on his tongue, breathes in, out through his nose until the fury is no longer blinding.

“Your fancy automatic jig is broken. The potato one. It’s not- working.” The hunger fogs his mind, makes it hard to think. He feels caged and weak and pathetic and he hates it.

“That’s because it’s not automatic.” Footsteps echo on the speakers, Dream tapping along to the rhythm before he realizes and stops himself, and a moment later the familiar whirring and clicking of the metal box comes from behind him and a small pile of potatoes fall down and splash into the water. “There. Is that all?”

Dream feels the fury rise, again, but doesn’t quite to keep the words back, this time.

“So what was the point of the whole automatic feeder, asshole? You’ve changed nothing! What’s the difference between that thing and you coming over to my cell besides that you’ve wasted a couple stacks of redstone? Congratu-fucking-lations, you’re a goddamn genius-”

“It’s remote now, so I don’t have to come into your cell.”

“Oh, so it’s just the good ol’ Warden looking for more ways to make the prisoner suffer, huh? Should’ve figured, you fucking self-righteous prick-”

“Dream.”

His mouth shuts with a click, a flash of fear searing through his muscles, white-hot, and by the time he’s blinked back the ringing in his ears the silence has stolen all the words from him, once again. Pathetic, he screams in his head, but his jaw remains firmly locked in place - the Warden’s won, per usual, and they both know it.

“Is that all?” He sounds impatient. Part of Dream wants nothing more than to never hear his voice again, and the other half of him rails at the idea of being alone with his thoughts once more. All of him hates himself, and all of him hates the silence; they’re the only two constants in this place. “You’ll have to speak up if you want anything.”

“How- long was it, since you last gave food?”

Static for a moment, then another. “It’s only been about a day.”

“Bullshit.”

“You’d know if you took care of your clock instead of destroying it, prisoner.”

“I’d know if you were less of a fucking prick.”

“Behave, and you might get it replaced.” The Warden’s breathing is harsh, almost labored - he must be angrier than Dream thought, then. “Speaking of which, you won’t be getting any for a day after this stunt.”

“Ooh, I’m so scared. It’s not like you don’t do this - what, every other day?”

“Do you want food or not?”

Dream’s teeth grind against each other; he breathes in, out. He hates this, hates the potatoes, hates the Warden, hates himself. Hates the way that a part of him recoils at the thought of making the Warden angry at him, reaches desperately for a chance to earn his clock- his approval. Attachments are weakness, he tells his traitorous heart, knowing that it, as always, will fail to stay away.

“Yes. Thank you.” The pleasantry burns on his tongue, tastes worse than the bitterness of raw potatoes that seems to be the only thing it knows, anymore.

“Good-bye, prisoner. Don’t make me come into the cell.”

The intercom cuts off with a click, the space that the static made immediately filled by silence. Dream watches it blankly, jaw sore from how tight it had been clenched, and begins to work his way through the first potato, nibbling at the pale flesh just enough to tide over the worst of the pain.

This is fine, he tells himself, and the walls stare at him impassively. He’s not sure they believe him.

He’s not sure how much longer he can believe himself.

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Writting request!

Hels!Impulse taking regular impulses place n stuffing him in like a closet or somethin-

N someone who's sus of him (maybe iskall?) Finds the real impulse.

Now to unmask the fake.

okay so a few quick things:

1) this ended up a LOT longer than i expected lol so i apologise for that, it’s over 2k words

2) i also didn’t entirely stick to every detail in the prompt because i had an idea i rly liked and i wanted to roll with it, so i’m rly sorry if it’s not as good as you were expecting

3) anyway i hope it’s good! it was a lot of fun to work on

...

  Impulse is working on the redstone of his pumpkin and melon farm in his base when he spots a shadow moving around right at the corner of his vision. Frowning, he leaves his task and heads out into the main part of the base, looking around. “Hello?” he calls cautiously. “Grian, if this is you again…”

  He gets no response. 

  Just as he starts to turn back, thinking he just imagined it, something slams into him and knocks him into the wall, stunning him. He looks sharply up to find…

  ...himself. 

  Impulse’s eyes widen. “Wh-Who are you?!”

  The new Impulse has his arms crossed and a malicious grin on his face. “My name is Impulstor. I’m your Hels counterpart. And I’m going to take over your life as my own.”

  “W-Wait, what?!” 

  Before Impulse can move, Impulstor seizes his lapels and drags him across the base. Impulse struggles as hard as he can but he’s still winded from being hit against the wall. 

  Impulstor takes him to one of the support pillars at the very edge of the base, which has a two by one block hole in it, left over from Grian’s secret base shenanigans a few weeks ago. Weakened, he’s unable to stop Impulstor from shoving him roughly through the gap. 

  Since the floor is a block lower than the bottom of the hole, Impulse’s foot slips and he falls heavily against the wall, hitting his head and stunning him even more. The space inside the pillar is only one block by one block, with two or three more blocks of space above his head, so as Impulse collapses, he’s forced into an uncomfortable sitting position. 

  Blinking back tears of pain and fear, Impulse tries sluggishly to escape but Impulstor bashes him on the head with his own pickaxe. 

  The last thing Impulse sees before he passes out is Impulstor blocking the gap with white concrete, trapping him in this prison.

…

  Zedaph flies over the shopping district and lands a little way off from Impulse and Tango, who are sitting on one of the benches outside town hall, chatting. As he approaches, the two look up and spot him. “Hey, Zed!” Tango calls, beaming. “Wanna join me and Impy hanging out?”

  “Yeah, sure! What do you have in mind?”

  “Well, I thought we might go give Decked Out a group run,” Tango says. “I’d have to fix things up a little bit but that shouldn’t take more than ten minutes. I think it’d be epic to go in as a team.”

  “Ooh, yeah!” Impulse grins. “I always loved that game. It terrifies me, but I loved it. Those ravagers, man. I’m always on the lookout for them and it’s terrifying with the heartbeat and everything.” 

  “That was the idea,” snickers Tango.

  “I know, I know. Doesn’t make it any less terrifying, though.” Impulse grins. “Going in as a group would be great! I’d really like to do that.”

  Zedaph involuntarily takes a step back. He doesn’t know what, but there’s something off about Impulse today. There’s something different, something he can’t quite put his finger on. He’s known Impulse a long time, but not as long as Tango, who doesn’t seem to share his doubts. Is he misreading the situation?

  “Yeah, me too!” Tango enthuses. “You up for it, Zed?”

  “Um, actually…” Zedaph forces a convincing cough and rubs his stomach. “I feel kinda sick all of a sudden. I think the flight over here churned my insides.”

  “Oh.” Tango frowns sympathetically. “You’d better rest, then.”

  “Yeah, sorry. I need to go home.”

  “No problem, man. Hope you feel better.”

  Zedaph slowly walks away, keeping up his charade in case the others are watching. Over his shoulder, he hears Impulse say something about his ice farm, then a few seconds later, the sound of rockets are heard as the two take off with their elytras. 

  He keeps going for about a minute longer, just in case, before deeming it safe and taking off with his rockets. His heart pounding, he shoots over to Impulse’s base and after crashing through the water curtain, lands neatly on the ground inside. “Impulse?” Zedaph calls, starting to rush through the pyramid base. “Impulse, are you here?”

  Zedaph’s voice awakens Impulse. Blinking against the throbbing in his head, he bashes his fist against the wall of the pillar as hard as he can. “Ze-Zedaph! ZED!”

  Following the sound of Impulse’s voice, Zedaph locates the pillar and slices a hole in it with his pickaxe. 

  To his horror, he finds Impulse squeezed inside the narrow gap, blood still dripping from the wound in his head. 

  “Oh my god…!”

  Zedaph drags Impulse out of the pillar and lets him lie flat on the ground for a moment while he tends to his wound. Impulse doesn’t even have the strength to wince at the stinging of antiseptic. 

  “Are you okay?” asks Zedaph quietly. “How long have you been stuck in there?”

  “A-A few hours at most, I don’t really know. What’s going on?”

  “Well, fake you is cosying up to Tango. I don’t think Tango suspects anything.”

  Impulse swallows back a pang of hurt. “Oh… I-I thought he knew me better than that…”

  “To be fair, whoever’s masquerading as you is really, really good,” says Zedaph slowly. “I hate to say this, but even I barely noticed.”

  “Really? What made you catch on?”

  Zedaph hesitates. “It was more of a gut feeling than solid evidence. I dunno, there was just something about the way he talked that seemed off. It didn’t seem like you. I thought either there was something wrong with you or it wasn’t you at all.”

  “And you came to the conclusion that an imposter posing as me was more likely than me having an off day?” chuckles Impulse weakly. 

  Zedaph matches his chuckle as he starts to wind a bandage around Impulse’s head. “Again, it was just a gut feeling.”

  “Well, your gut feeling was right. Now what do we do about Impulstor?”

  Zedaph immediately bursts out a laugh. “Impulstor!” 

  Impulse gives him a look.

  Zedaph clears his throat awkwardly. “S-Sorry. Anyway, we should go and save Tango from, uh… Impulstor.”

  “Shouldn’t that be easy?” remarks Impulse. “I mean, I’M me. He’s not.”

  “Man, you didn’t see the way he was with Tango. He has to be some kind of clone of you or something; there’s no way he’s just a guy who’s studied the way you behave. It’s not about us not knowing you well enough; it’s him knowing every mannerism, every quirk, every facial tick. If it wasn’t for my random gut feeling, I doubt we’d have noticed for a really long time.”

  Impulse’s worry increases. If Tango, someone he’s known for over a decade, couldn’t even tell the difference between him and the imposter, his clone could have the whole server fooled within hours. 

  “We have to get to him away from the other hermits,” Impulse says. “The longer this goes on, the harder it’ll be to convince them I’m the real Impulse. What were him and Tango doing when you left?”

  “I think they were taking a look at your ice farm,” responds Zedaph. 

  Impulse shoots bolt upright. “Oh no! I spent ages getting that farm the exact way I wanted; he better not ruin anything!”

  Zedaph grips him by the shoulders. “Hey, easy, man. You might have a concussion.”

  “I don’t care! Tango is in real danger and so is everything I’ve ever built! I’m going over to my ice farm right now and you can’t stop me.”

  Zedaph hesitates. He knows his friend well enough to know that he really can’t stop him. “Okay, then. I’ll come with you.”

…

  “-really like this pattern,” Tango is saying, looking down at the floor underneath the ice farm. “How’d you think of it?”

  “Oh, it just came to me,” says Impulstor. “Took me a while to turn all the powder to concrete.”

  “I bet. Nice farm, dude!”

  “Thanks!” 

  Impulstor watches Tango move over to the side of the farm and look down. Tango clearly suspects nothing; if he has any doubts, he’s doing an amazing job hiding them. But Impulstor isn’t worried. From his (no, not his. Impulse’s) memories of Tango, he should be fairly easy to take down if the need arises. 

  But what he doesn’t anticipate is his ruse falling apart so soon.

  “TANGO!”

  Tango jerks and snaps his head upwards to find two figures flying towards him. He blinks in shock; one of them is clearly Zedaph but the other… It can’t be…

  Impulstor lets out a very quiet growl, before rearranging his face into an expression of shock. “Wait a sec…”

  Impulse nearly falls over in his haste as he lands, him and Zedaph getting between Tango and Impulstor. 

  “What the hell is going on?!” Tango demands. “Why are there two Impulses?!”

  “He’s an imposter,” declares Impulse, jabbing a finger at Impulstor. “He’s a fake Impulse.”

  “No, HE’s the fake!” Impulstor snaps back. “I don’t know what’s going on here but I’m the real Impulse!”

  “Oh god, this is my worst nightmare,” Tango groans. “How are we supposed to know who the real one is?”

  “Look, ask me anything,” says Impulse. “I’ll answer any question you ask.”

  “What was your first build when you joined Hermitcraft?” Zedaph asks.

  “The witch huts in season three,” say both Impulse and Impulstor at the same time, causing the former to stare at the latter in shock. 

  “Who did you team up with to do the pirate ship prank in season six?” Tango asks slowly.

  “Ren and Doc,” both Impulses say, again at the same time. 

  “What did you call your season five base?” Zedaph says.

  Again, the answer comes simultaneously from both Impulse and Impulstor: “Atlantis.” 

  “Okay, stop, stop.” Tango waves his hands. “This is going nowhere. I don’t know HOW you two have the exact same memory but clearly, we’re not gonna make any progress this way.” 

  “Hey, Impulse.” Zedaph turns pointedly to the real Impulse. “How did you get that scar on your thigh?”

  “From an arrow wound during the season six civil war,” Impulse and Impulstor reply.

  A split second later, Impulse realises what his friend is doing. He lifts his shorts leg just enough for the small scar to become visible. “This one.”

  The other three turn to Impulstor, who realises he’s in trouble here. He may have Impulse’s memories but they don’t share a body. Impulstor remembers the exact moment Impulse got that injury but he wasn’t actually there. He didn’t live it; Impulse did. 

  “Impulse, if you’re the real one, show us the scar,” Tango says sternly. 

  Impulstor hesitates, his slightly narrowed eyes flickering from Tango to Impulse. 

  Suddenly, Impulstor takes off running, deliberately slamming into Tango as he does. Tango tumbles to the ground and slides right over the edge of the farm with a terrified yell. 

  Luckily, Zedaph reacts quickly and grabs his friend’s wrist. This stops Tango from falling long enough for Impulse to take hold of his friend’s other hand, and the two pull Tango back to safety. 

  “Oh my gosh, are you okay?!” gasps Impulse. “You almost went over!” 

  Breathing heavily, Tango starts to speak but cuts himself off as he finally registers the bandage around Impulse’s head. “I-Impulse, did he hurt you?”

  “What?” Impulse frowns, before remembering his head injury, which is already mostly healed. “Oh, yeah. He ambushed me in my base and knocked me out and stuffed me in the hollow space in one of my pillars for like five hours or so.”

  “Oh my god...” Tango squeezes his eyes shut. “I-I’m so sorry…”

  “Wh-What?” Impulse stares at him. What for?”

  “For not realising he wasn’t you. I should have seen it; I can’t believe I was so blind.”

  Impulse blinks. “Oh, Tango, no. Please, please don’t feel guilty. It’s not your fault at all.”

  “But…” Tango’s eyes glisten with tears. “I… I’ve known you for at least ten years. Surely I…”

  “No,” says Impulse firmly. “Don’t blame yourself, Tango. Impulstor is… He’s me. Essentially.”

  “What do you mean, Impusle?” asks Zedaph quietly. 

  Impulse hesitates. “Impulstor is my Hels counterpart. He looks like me, talks like me, he has all my memories. Tango, nobody can really blame you for not noticing. Dude, I know I’m the real Impulse and even I did a double take. You know I’m not observant at all but that was taking it to a whole new level.”

  Tango gives a quiet laugh. “Yeah, you’re really not super observant. But still…”

  “And hey, at least we now have a fairly easy way to tell us apart,” Impulse adds. “He won’t be able to fool you two again. But the rest of the server needs to be warned and briefed on how to tell us apart. Will you help me do that, both of you?”

  “Of course I will,” says Zedaph immediately, putting his arm over Impulse’s shoulders. “We’re a team.”

  Tango meets Impulse’s gaze.

  Finally, he says, “I always knew you’d have an evil twin but I didn’t expect him to be LESS annoying than you.” 

  “Hey,” complains Impulse mildly. “Give me some credit for not trying to murder you.”

  Tango laughs and grabs his friend in a hug. “Don’t worry, you’re still my favourite Impulse.”

  Impulse hugs him back. “Good. Now, let’s find Xisuma and warn him about Impulstor.”

  Tango pulls sharply away from Impulse and stares at him. “Wait… Is that his NAME? Impulse plus imposter?”

  “Uh huh. Trust me, I didn’t choose it.”

  His friend bursts out laughing. “That’s GREAT! Oh my god. That sounds like something Zed would come up with.”

  “I know, right!” Zedaph laughs. 

  Impulse can’t help a laugh too. The tension and fear that’s been controlling him for the last few hours has mostly melted away now that his best friends are safe. Impulstor might still be out there but with a little luck, he won’t be able to fool the rest of the server the way he fooled Tango. He’s sure he’ll see Impulstor again, though. 

  But the real question is: how soon?

[votederpycausemufins]

alright, i took a break of about 20 hours (less if you don’t count me sleeping) but hey, it was a break at least!

@petrichormeraki

The trip back to the portal left Mumbo shaken up. Dream didn’t follow them which seemed like the last thing he would do. Mumbo was somehow able to get parrot Grian to turn everyone back to normal which was fine. That was just his Watcher powers. Nothing to do with any Vault God powers he may or may not have. And he didn’t have any.

Eventually the portal was back up and running and Mumbo chose to believe that was just because Dream was lying, or again it was just Grian’s Watcher powers. Or maybe even that he was a hermit and the portal had hermit origins.

The smp members tried to question Mumbo, asking what they would do now. Dream was still on the loose and had more power than they realized. Not everyone was willing to go to Hermitcraft and leave everything behind. Right now, Mumbo was really the only person who might have answers, but he just felt bombarded by their words until he finally snapped.

“Look, I have no clue what to do. I didn’t even really want to be here in the first place. Right now Grian, the person I am closest to is stuck like this even though all of you are fine and I just want to help him before I deal with all of this!”

Mumbo winced when he saw the look on Tommy’s face. “So what, just going to abandon us all then? He’s my brother, bitch!”

“I know that and I am sick of having that thrown in my face! It was bad enough when we didn’t know the two of you were related. I wouldn’t have minded if you never showed up so we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place!”

Tommy froze, only moving to take a step back in shock. Mumbo looked equally horrified at his own words, and not knowing what else to do, he ran through the portal and went back home.

Mumbo hoped that he could just get some peace by going home, but instead, moments after he returned his communicator started buzzing wildly with messages. With shaking hands he tried to turn it off, but instead managed to drop it and didn’t care enough to pick it back up. He grabbed the rockets from his inventory and equipped his elytra to fly back to his base. 

He just got into the sky when another hermit flew past him, likely to greet him. He tried not to curse as they changed their direction to fly after him, and even though he knew it would hardly do anything, Mumbo started spamming rocket after rocket to get away as fast as he could.

He collapsed onto his bed, finally letting go of Grian who started hopping around. He watched the parrot for a while before pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes in an attempt to keep from crying in frustration. Why did they even have a useless spoon of a hermit in this world?

Grian had completely lost track of how long he had been in this infinite white expanse, but other than the lack of everyone he knew and the occasional having to relive horrific nightmares of memories, it wasn’t all that bad. He had started feeling a little more tired, but he assumed that was more from boredom than anything serious. It was okay since one perk of this place was getting to rewatch the dreams he had just had. 

Not having anyone around was making him feel lonely, so Grian had started to watch the same memories over and over. He memorized his own lines so that way he could talk to his friends and they responded back.

“I still don’t understand why you put Mumbo faces everywhere.” Mumbo seemed to be holding in a laugh.

“It’s a house for you, I had to make it right! Mustaches everywhere!”

“Well I certainly noticed them. Now how about you open the door?” Mumbo gestured to a lever. Grian ignored the tingling feeling that came with intersecting his memory copy as he pulled the lever.

“Oh, well that’s pretty cool.” He echoed as he and his coppy watched the piston door open and he walked in. “But you’ve tainted it with redstone everywhere, look at this! You didn’t even bother covering it up!”

“Wasn’t sure how to go about it and make it look good. Besides, I’m a fan of exposed redstone.”

“Well, we can work on your building skills. What’s this over here?” Grian walked over to the closet and waited for his copy to open it. “AHH! Oh! Oooh. Hah… haha…”

Mumbo started laughing, nearly falling over as his legs became weak from laughing so hard. It no longer scared Grian after watching it so many times, so he just laughed along with Mumbo. “H-How about you go to the study n-next. I-It’s awesome!”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure it is.” Grian tried to stop laughing as he spoke. They reached a sign which he read aloud. “Super Hollywood film set. Oh you’ve redone the whole area, what is this?” Grian watched as he and Mumbo walked around the room. “Super editing suite, activate moving set part two. Part two?”

“There’s more than one, I just labeled them with numbers.”

Grian flicked the lever and watched as cobblestone in front of a bike started to move to imitate a moving foreground. “Oh that’s so cool. That’s so cool!” He flipped the lever for the background. “Oh! It’s for the motor bike!” The copy hopped on the bike and Grian himself found an empty area on the back of the bike to sit. He started making motor noises as the two of them rode the bike, Mumbo flipping another lever nearby. 

Lights came on and Mumbo moved the camera to point at him. “Oh, using your filming knowledge properly I see. Three point lighting system?”

Mumbo nodded, then turned everything off for them to continue. “Let’s continue shall we?”

“Oh, what’s all this?” Grian asked as they came to an area filled with dispensers.

“Well, if you’re going to be filming, you’ll need some costumes.” Mumbo helped Grian into one of the spots and suddenly the builder was covered in gold armor.

“Oh that’s nice. I like that.” As Mumbo tried to go on, Grian doubled back and hit all the buttons, putting all the armor in his inventory. “I’ll just keep that for later. What’s next?”

“Over here. Secret room under the stairs.” Mumbo pulled a lever. The stairs pulled down and Grian was briefly reminded of the shenanigans of the secret base bros. He let himself get distracted by thoughts about that, turning his attention away from the scene. He tried not to listen to his panicked shouts as Mumbo tricked him by closing the entrance behind him.

“Grian, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize that would scare you! Mumbo let the copy of Grian out and the real Grian could see how he almost moved for a comforting hug, something he never noticed when this had all first happened.

“I-it’s fine. Just bad memories. C-Can we continue with the house?”

Grian forced himself to stop thinking of the memory, making the white void return. Being with Mumbo that first time was a good memory. Sure there was that one bad part, but for Grian, that was good too. It showed how Mumbo cared for him all the way back then and how they’d learned more about each other over time.

After calming himself down, he started it up again.  “C-Can we continue with the house?”

“Right, let’s go in here next.”

“Wha- MY KITCHEN! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY KITCHEN?!” Mumbo started laughing again.

‘Anyone could do this. Anyone! Xisuma or Scar or Iskall or anyone else.’ Mumbo thought to himself as he was looking over Grian. ‘I’m just better at this because Grian and I are linked or whatever. That’s all. Nothing to do with this being done by a Vault God and me also being one. Because I’m not.’

Multiple hermits had tried to visit Mumbo, but he had shooed them all off. Stress was the one to stay longest, having arrived with the bots who were complaining about not seeing their dads for a while. Mumbo tried to ask them to leave a few times before he snapped at them. He tried to push the hurt expression that was on Jrumbot’s face out of his mind.

He just had a rough few days. He wasn’t sleeping much and was barely keeping himself from starving. But right now Grian was important. More important than him. He might have had this done sooner, but he was being extremely careful, used to dealing with non-organic things most of the time. 

He’s just wondering if he should look up puzzle boxes, wondering if those would be easy enough to rest his mind with, but also not get too off topic when he thinks he’s done it. “G… Grian?”

“Guh Grian?”

“Do you know who I am?”

“Do know who am. Know who I am.”

Mumbo started crying in joy. “Oh thank goodness! I was so scared you were stuck like this forever!”

“Tommy...” Grian mimicked his copy, though he was more happy while the copy was more stunned. “How do you know that?”

“What? Blood for the Blood God? My brother says it all the time.” Tommy thought he read Grian’s face well enough. “I’m sorry, I can stop saying it. I know my brother is a bit vio-”

“Techno or Wilbur?”

Tommy paused, he didn’t think he had told Grian their names. “Uh, Techno obviously. I would think if you knew their names you would know he said it. Um, something wrong Big G?”

Grian smiled, his copy continuing to cry. “Tommy… Tommy Tommy… th-they’re my brothers. Oh gods I’m the blood god… that’s what I always called myself. They hated it because I always started causing trouble.”

Tommy looked confused. “What are you talking about? I would think I’d know I had a brother named Grian.”

Grian started to open his mouth, ready to mimic his memory, telling Tommy a name he hadn’t used in ages. But instead he suddenly felt like he was falling. Grian let out a yelp in surprise. When he landed the white expanse was gone, but he realized that was from his eyes being closed. Nervously, Grian opened them and saw Mumbo staring at him, seeming quite large.

“G…” He seemed stunned. “Grian?”

Grian let out a little chirp, realizing that apparently his parrot voice box was the one working right now. “Guh Grian?”

“Do you know who I am?” Of course Grian knew Mumbo. Had he not before? Was that why Mumbo looked so worried.

“Do know who am. Know who I am.” Grian used Mumbo’s words to let the redstoner know that he could remember. He then had to hop back as Mumbo started to cry.

“Oh thank goodness! I was so scared you were stuck like this forever!” Stuck like wha- Grian started to wonder before it hit him. Oh, he couldn’t talk right and Mumbo looked so large because he was currently a parrot. Had something gone wrong when Philza was trying to teach him? Honestly, Grian couldn’t remember what the last thing to happen to him was before he ended up in the white infinity room. He had been in there so long and re-experiencing other memories that the one for when this started was sort of… gone.

Mumbo had apparently spoken a little with Philza because he was able to help Grian back to his humanoid self. The builder held Mumbo’s hands to steady himself as though he didn’t remember it, his muscle memory seemed to have gotten used to being a parrot.

“Well, while I’m sure being a bird has wonderful perks.” Grian paused, giving a yawn, still feeling tired. “I don’t think I really want to do that again for an extremely long time if I can get stuck like that.”

“Grian, how much do you remember?” Mumbo asked and Grian shrugged.

“Only thing I’m sure of is that I recently went to see the other Watchers. Something was going on, but that was a while ago and since then I’ve been stuck in an infinity room.” He looked at the worried expression on Mumbo’s face. “Mumbo, what happened?”

“So, the admin from Tommy’s world was a Vault God.” Grian’s wings puffed up at Mumbo’s words. “He ended up messing with your Watcher powers and got everyone back to their world and sort of wiped everyone’s memories. I’ve been here trying to fix whatever he did to you so I haven’t really been paying attention to everything that’s been going on since I got us back. Last I checked they all had their memories back… but Dream might have done something more.”

Grian jumped up. “I have to tell the other Watchers about this. A bad admin is one thing, but a Vault God admin that messes with Watchers is worse!”

“He may also be a sort of exiled Vault God based on what he said.” Mumbo added on and Grian seemed to get even angrier.

“Yep, definitely talking to the other Watchers now. I can’t believe he was right under Gxrgeous’ nose!” A portal opened up behind Grian and Mumbo tried not to look at Grian’s multiple purple eyes. “I’ll be right back. And Mumbo?” Mumbo looked up. “Take a shower. While I like that you spent all your time looking for me, I don’t think I even need enhanced senses to tell you need a shower.

Mumbo laughed sheepishly and then got up to do that. Grian chuckled in return then walked through. “Hellooo? Pixlriffs? Zloy? Gxrgeous? Any of you around?”

“Oh my god, Grian you’re alive!” Grian was suddenly tackled from behind.

“Noah! Ugh, get off my literal back!” Grian flapped his wings pushing the Evo Watcher off. “I’m looking for the hermit Watchers and Gxrgeous. You seen them?”

“Yeah, they’re busy freaking out about Gxrgeous’ world. You and Mumbo went through and then they lost connection to it completely. What happened?”

Grian shrugged. “I thought they would know better than me.” He lightly knocked the side of his head. “No memory of what was going on. Mumbo says the admin from there was a Vault God the whole time. I can’t believe I didn’t see it from the start.”

“You mean Dream? He’s a Vault Go- ohhhhhh. Dream… Dreamon. Why didn’t we realize that at the start?”

“Yeah well, something that should really be talked about with Watchers other than you since at this point I really want to connect the worlds so he can’t do anything more to my family.”

“Right, Pretty sure they’re this way.”

The talk had gone well and Grian was surprised to see the Vault Gods so willing to work with them on this. Grian supposed it was because of Dream’s status, but it was still odd to experience.

Zloy had given him a new communicator because his old one had ended up broken somewhere in the mix of things. The moment he was back out of the portal, he started to send a message.

<Grian> Based on what Mumbo said, they’re not here sooooo <Grian> Where are my children! <GoodtimewithScar> GRIAN!!! <Stressmonster> They’re with me. Are you doing okay? <Zedaph> Since he’s not here, I’ll do it for him <Zedaph> *fortnight dances* <ZombieCleo> He would NOT! <Grian> Speaking of, where is Tommy? <TangoTek> No clue, he didn’t come back with you and Mumbo. <Impulse> Don’t text and fly Tango <TangoTek> He knows what he did <Zedaph> welp, bye! *default dances away* <TangoTek> ZED!

Grian chuckled at the messages before sighing and flying to where the infinity portal was. He was glad to see it still sitting there and what looked like someone’s pet cat nearby. The avian was surprised when he landed and heard said cat speak.

“Hey! Can you get my friends? Dey went in there and haven’t come back and Sprinklez said I can’t go through.”

“Sure, I’m going in to get some people myself. Who are you after?”

“Tommy and Tubbox. Dey wanted ta be my friends and we had fun until a big bird thing attacked us!”

Grian winced, realizing that most likely was him. “Yeah, sure I was after Tommy anyway.”

Crumb nodded, but then thought of something. “Wait, Sprinklez said I couldn’t go alone, but but but, he didn’t say I couldn’t go with someone else!”

Grian smiled a mischievous smile and then pulled out his communicator. He asked Crumb’s name and then sent a message.

<Grian> Hey, I’m going with Crumb to pick up some people. Be back soon! <CaptainSparklez> What? Where? <Crumbl> Tommmu ans Tubboc

Before Grian could look at whatever was sent back, he gave out a mischievous cackle and picked up Crumb, taking them through the portal.

[lucanogis]

fanfic: tender matters such as life

Title: tender matters such as life Fandom: Gakuen Alice Length: 5.2k Summary: Aoi Hyuuga has what she always wanted: A relationship, an apartment, a good job. Yet somehow, memories of her past can’t seem to let her go. And running into Rei Serio in front of a grocery store only makes matters worse. Set after Ch. 180, written for day 2 of ga-party’s May prompts: childhood trauma. 

{ao3} , {ffn}

She doesn’t remember much, but she knows he is her protector. He promised her that and why shouldn’t she believe his words? He was there when she woke, he is there still. He shows her how to use her hands to grasp her surroundings: The wooden floor that leaves tiny splinters in her skin and the metal bars that keep her inside, no, safe. The small bathroom and the shower, her table and her bed. The air is cool, always cool. No fire reaches her skin, no ash tickles her nose. Everything beyond the room and her protector is blurry. Sometimes she reaches for it but always, always there is a wall. But the wall is good, he says. There is no joy beyond the wall. The outside world, he tells her, will not treat her kindly. Sometimes, solitude is protection. She can hear he speaks the truth, the kind of aching, painful truth one cannot learn, only experience. She believes him. He is her protector, after all, and no fire will burn her, no darkness terrify her, as long as he is by her side.

Aoi Hyuuga spots Persona while she’s out buying milk and cornflakes. The night before was rough, as most nights are, lately. She spent a good three hours fighting with Paige about...honestly, she hardly remembers what they were fighting about. Life is strangely cyclical these days. Hours blur together until they become weeks and one argument over their future bleeds into the next. Maybe that’s why she goes out to buy cornflakes - her girlfriend likes them and watching her wolf down three bowls will restore peace to their tumultuous relationship, until the next day at least.

It’s October and the air outside is freezing already, as though winter is stretching out its fingers to have just a little bit more time to wreak havoc. Aoi shivers and burrows her face into her jacket. She’s crossing the street when she sees him. His hair is dark but shorter than she remembers and he’s putting groceries into a car. She’s heard about the whole thing, of course. It’s not like it hasn’t been years since the Elementary School Principal of the Alice Academy in Japan fell and Rei Serio left the school to pursue a better life. But in all those years he never sought her out. Her brother told her Serio got married, had a baby. Back then, her stomach twisted at the thought.

He sees her, she knows he does, even as she tries to hurry into the store. “Miss Hyuuga,” he says.

His voice makes her breath quicken. It’s the same voice, slightly rough around the edges, the same voice she remembers hearing throughout the years she spent living in darkness. Right now, however, shock tints his words and she doesn’t remember that, doesn’t remember him sounding anything less than perfectly in control. She bites down on her lips, anticipating his next words.

“Please, can I...can we talk?”

Aoi pauses in her steps and answers without turning to face him. “I’d rather not,” she says hurriedly, her tongue stumbling over the words. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m busy.”

Three more steps and the doors of the store open. She passes shelves, employees, customers before stopping in between two racks of fruit. Her heart is pounding hard enough to escape from her chest and she can’t quite seem to catch her breath. Aoi lets fear push her down and falls to her knees, the granite floor cool under her legs. He’s just a person, she thinks. Just one person.

She thinks about calling her brother, too, but her fingers won’t listen to her so she leans her head back to look at the ceiling. Above her, fluorescent light bulbs gleam and she stares at them until small dots start dancing in front of her eyes, lets their brightness chase away any lingering memories. Breathing, her therapist taught her, is the most important thing. She breathes for a while, even as her body tells her that she is dying dying dying dead. The panic fades eventually. It doesn’t leave but then it never does. Aoi thinks that maybe it’s just a part of her now - like her bones and her blood and her skin, something life has knitted into her body. She can sense it rising and falling as she goes to buy the cornflakes she came for, incessant tiny waves forever crashing against her mind.

Her brother never quite understands why she chooses architecture as her career. “You would make a great teacher,” he tells her once. “Or a doctor. Something like that.” But architecture offers her the opportunity to make things that will outlive her - buildings that will house humans for decades. After a childhood of leaving buildings behind and burning them down, it feels like absolution to construct them now. Whatever she tore down, whatever was taken because of the fire in her veins, she will rebuild. And the homes that rise up now from the ashes of her own mistakes will be five, no ten times stronger than what came before them. Robustness, that’s what it is about. Nothing fanciful, nothing wasteful, something that will last. “Doesn’t sound like fun,” her brother says. He looks at her with serious red eyes so she forces a smile. “It’s what I want to do,” she tells him. “It’s who I want to be.”

Paige is waiting for her when she unlocks the door to their shared apartment. “Where have you been?,” she demands. There’s an edge to her voice. Aoi stretches out her arm to present the bag she’s carrying. “I got you some cornflakes,” she says, keeping her voice light, her lips curved into a smile. “We didn’t have any left so I thought-”

“You should have told me you were going somewhere,” Paige interrupts. “I called you a dozen times, can’t you at least pick up the phone?”

Aoi slips out of her shoes and hangs up her jacket. “I didn’t hear the ringing,” she answers truthfully. “You know I always keep it on mute.”

Paige’s face twists into a grimace of anger. Inwardly, Aoi sighs. “Look,” she says, trying to sound as calm as she can. “I’m sorry. Let’s not fight, alright?”

“Suit yourself,” Paige hisses. She shakes her head, her reddish curls bouncing up and down as she does, and grabs the bag Aoi’s still holding before stomping off without a word. Aoi can hear her rummaging around in the kitchen and closes her eyes. Breathe, she thinks. Just breathe.

There were days, many months ago, that being with her girlfriend felt less like a chore and more like a blessing. She’d been single for as much as a year at that point, watching from the sidelines as her brother got engaged to his long-time girlfriend. Her own previous relationship had imploded - she’d loved Ahn, but her ex had been so independent that it was difficult to hold onto her in a romantic way. Paige was the complete opposite: Ready to move in with Aoi, ready to settle down. Stability. Until she switched jobs and started coming home tired and irritated, filled with stories about an industry Aoi knows nothing about.

Maybe this is normal, she tells herself as she walks up the stairs to her laptop. The endless repetition, the dullness, the fighting. As much as the arguing exhausts her, at least she knows Paige won’t leave. Aoi can’t exactly say the same about anyone else in her life. Natsume may always manage to come back, but that doesn’t change the fact that he disappears all the time, dropping of the face of the earth to save the world with his friends. He has their mother’s blood, her spirit, Aoi thinks.

She isn’t made for saving the world. She just wants to have her relationship, her home, her job. She’s an architect, mostly responsible for making structural plans for factories and it’s good, honest work. Every time she presents her clients with a plan, their smile makes the geometry and endless planning worth it. Well, almost. Lately not even her job has made her smile. Factories are...robust, redstone and metal, but they’re not places people live in. Still, they’re what her firm specializes in and being self-employed is too high a risk to take.

But when she checks her laptop after getting upstairs, she doesn’t immediately delete a mail her brother forwarded her, about some rich guy looking for a freelance designer to draw up plans for his new home. The guy seems to want a lot, perhaps more than any architect can give him. He is well-known, so any architect who does give him what he wants can expect much needed exposure.  Aoi leans back in her chair. Above her head, the first building plans she ever made are pinned to the ceiling. They are...ambitious, a colossus of sturdy metal and glass. They got her into her desired architecture program, they got her this far. She looks back down to read the email again. “Free-standing, ambitious, cutting edge” it says.

“Sounds like anyone but me,” she mutters to herself and pushes her chair back to get up. But as she walks downstairs, the words echo in her mind and her fingers itch for a pen. Maybe, her mind whispers, maybe, maybe. It won’t quiet down, not even as she sits down next to her girlfriend, not even after the two of them watch a sitcom in awkward silence. Maybe, maybe, this is something she can do.

Her father is the one who convinces her to see a therapist. He says her weight loss worries him, almost as much as the way she never quite laughs with her eyes anymore. He doesn’t make her tell him what’s wrong, but he does tell her about her mother, how she was beautiful and strong but sometimes felt so sad and lost that she didn’t care about life or love or her future. The therapist talks to her about the fear monster, which is what she has started to call the lingering memories from her time at the Academy, talks to her about her dreams for her life and her job. It doesn’t fix everything but it helps, the same way turning on the light helps one find scattered items on the floor. At the same time, it makes Aoi’s skin crawl. Why does she need help? Has the school damaged her so badly, has it made her weak? Or, even worse: Was she weak from the start?

“How do you feel about today’s fight,?” her therapist asks her. Aoi shrugs. She’s sitting on the leather couch in her therapist’s office. The sun is shining through the trees outside, throwing leaf-like shadows onto the wall. It’s a peaceful day, far too peaceful to discuss the intricacies of her relationship.

“It was the same as all the other fights,” she says. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out.” Her attempt at a hopeful smile clearly falls short, because her therapist raises her brows.

“That may be true, but do you want to figure it out?”

Aoi frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Are you happy, Aoi?”

“Sure I am,” Aoi says, the answer more a reflex than the truth. “I love my girlfriend, this is just a rough patch.”

Her therapist nods. “I see. It just seems as though every day, she does something that upsets you. Sometimes people just aren’t compatible. It’s not weakness to walk away from someone who isn’t right for you.”

“What we have between us is good,” Aoi insists. She fiddles with her thumb. “Once we’ve put this behind us, we might even get married. Why not, we already have an apartment. You know, my brother was engaged when he was my age.”

“Why is it you want to get married? Why do you want a life with her?”

“Well, I love her. Obviously.”

Her therapist’s questions are starting to make her uncomfortable and Aoi glances at the clock. There’s still ten more minutes before the session is over.

“Look, does it really matter why I want to get married?,” she says impatiently. “It’s the normal thing to do.”

Normal. She stares at her therapist, who is now wearing a quiet, almost expectant smile. Normal. Is that a reason to want to be with someone? Aoi doesn’t know, but it’s certainly better than the void she slipped into during some of the months she spent being single. The darkness then was almost as bad as the darkness in the Academy’s cage, only it whispered even crueller things into her ears and took away all her motivation. She couldn’t even make herself get out of bed in the morning, let alone do her job. Compared to that, compared to the things she has experienced, her daily fights are a walk in the park and marriage, God, marriage seems like heaven.

“Do you think you deserve no better than that?,” her therapist asks. “No better than a relationship with someone you don’t really get along with? Do you think you won’t find anything in the world that makes you happier?”

Happiness, a loaded word. Aoi was happy once, the innocent kind of happy only children can really feel. And she still is happy now, in some ways at least. She is happy when she sees her brother and his fiancee, her childhood friend Luca, she is happy when she sees the lives they have built. She is happy when she finishes a project.

“I am happy,” Aoi says out loud. The words feel hollow in her mouth.

When she climbs into her car after her session, Aoi feels strangely lonely, so she does what she usually does when that particular emotion creeps up on her. She dials her brother’s number, puts him on speaker and starts her drive home. He picks up after the first ring.

“What’s up?,” Natsume asks.

“Oh you know,” she says. “Just so bored that even talking to you seems preferable to doing nothing.”

Natsume laughs. “Yeah right.”

“Hey, have you picked a wedding venue?”

His audible groan makes her smile.

“Please, don’t you start, too. Luca and Mikan have decided that planning weddings is their calling or something and they won’t stop pestering me about it. I want one second of peace. Just one second! Can’t a guy have at least that?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, Mr. Groom-to-be,” she teases gently. “It is your wedding, after all.”

“If it were up to me, we’d get married a week from now in Imai’s workshop or something. But that sadistic witch won’t let me,” he complains. For a while, they're both silent as she weaves her way through the traffic. Eventually, he asks: “Hey, are you ok?”

“I saw Persona today. I mean, Serio. Whatever.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“No,” she says. “I was...busy.”

“Oh,” he says. Again, silence stretches between them. Aoi gnaws on her bottom lip. She can practically hear her brother’s worried thoughts pile up inside his head. She realizes that although they both know Rei Serio, they know different versions of him. She knows the man who trapped her yet treated her with kindness. He knows the man who kidnapped his sister and hurt him and his friends.

“How can you stand to even look at him?” The words burst out of her unwillingly.

“I don’t know,” Natsume answers. She overtakes another car and stops at a red light before he answers. “I guess one day I just looked at him and realized that hating him would never make me a better person. Part of me will always feel those feelings but...he saved Mikan. I can’t ignore what he did to you but I can’t ignore that either. He seems like he’s trying to change and he better be because if he ever hurts anyone ever again, I’ll kill him.” She knows her brother well enough to understand he’s serious. “But until then,” Natsume continues. “Until he hurts someone, I’ll let him be. Let him try to be better, I guess.”

Aoi is still pondering his words when she pulls into her driveway.

“Hey….Do you have his number?,” she asks before she can stop herself.

“I...Yeah. Mikan gave it to me. Why?”

“Tell him to meet me,” Aoi says. “Tomorrow morning, at the Starburst cafe. Tell him not to be late.”

“Alright,” Natsume says. “I will. Love you, sis.”

“I love you, too.”

And she does, even more than she already has, loves him so fiercely it makes her smile despite her thudding heartbeat. Perhaps some of her mother’s liquid fire courage is finally stirring inside of her, or maybe it’s just the craziness her brain can never quite shed, but whatever it is, it’s pushing her forward, pushing her to meet the man who shaped her past.

Everything comes back to her after her brother frees her. Colors, feelings a sense of purpose. But he sends her away after a few precious days and she feels lost. Her Alice is still gone and the darkness may have a different form now but it’s still there. She makes her father leave the lights on when he tucks her in before sleep, because she is afraid of waking up in the middle of the night and feeling helpless once more. The children at school smile at her and they don’t ask questions. She is thankful and smiles back, thinking that maybe this could be a new beginning. Freedom is exhilarating and wonderful and more, much more than she could have imagined. She dreams of her brother and her mother, of seeing them again. Time, she believes in her heart, will bring all of them together one day. For a while the fear vanishes entirely, but then her brother dies and it flares up, blazes like a flame. Freedom is cruel and terrifying and more, much more than she can handle.

They meet in a small cafe. He’s already there and she can see him through one of the windows, sitting at a table for two and staring straight ahead. For just a few seconds, Aoi wants to turn and and leave. It would be the easy thing to do, it would make the panic disappear again, for a few moments at least. The life she has now, the life she has built, has survived without Rei Serio’s interference. She doesn’t need a resolution to this story, never has. But her reflection in her car window looks back at her through big, deep red eyes and she remembers her mother, beautiful and fierce, the mother she has never known but who maybe, just maybe, is just as alive inside of her as the fear is. Aoi gets out of her car, grabs her keys as tightly as she can and walks forward.

He raises his head when she enters. The shock is back except this time she’s familiar with it. When she sits down on the other side of the table, she scoots back with her chair back, widening the space between them. “So,” she says. “What did you want to say?”

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Serio says. He glances at the gap between her and the table and then up to meet her eyes. “I don’t think I would have, if I were in your position.”

“Well, we’re not the same person,” Aoi says forcefully. All the words she has swallowed before, all the thoughts her session with her therapist has reawoken spill forth now. The smile she usually wears feels impossible to accomplish and so she lets kindness drain from her features as she presses her shaking fists into her legs. She forgets to breathe, lets the anxiousness wash over her, lets her feelings carry the words out of her mouth.  “We were never the same, you and me. I don’t care what happened to you, what sadness they put you through. You took my life and you twisted it around and you had no right to do that, none.”

Her voice becomes louder with each word and a waiter approaches their table. She waves him off with one impatient gesture before focussing on her companion once more.

To her surprise, Rei Serio nods. “You’re right,” he says. “I don’t expect forgiveness for the things I have done. I just wanted to-”

His words are interrupted when his phone starts ringing. The paleness of his skin makes it easy to spot his embarrassment as his ears go slightly red. He peeks at his phone screen and curses softly under his breath. “Do you mind if I….” He gestures towards his phone. Aoi shrugs.

“Go ahead,” she tells him.

With a grateful nod, he picks up. Immediately, as though someone flicked over a switch, the anxiety disappears from his face and a hint of a smile lifts the corners of his mouth.

“Nobara,” he says, “Are you ok?”

His wife, Aoi thinks. The girl who somehow fell in love with a guy who hurt children, who threw them in a cage and lied to them. She doesn’t understand it, their relationship, doesn’t understand how anyone could just forget the blood on Rei Serio’s hands. But her former captor seems so non-threatening all of a sudden, so hopelessly smitten. It’s a startling transformation that reminds her of the way her brother looks at the people he loves. He, too, is lethal in a fight but there are more sides to him than the death she knows he has rained down upon others. In front of her, Serio laughs and Aoi averts her eyes. He never used to laugh when he visited her in her cage. Back then, his voice was heavy and the smell of death clung to his skin. Everything he had witnessed as a child, the horrible things her brother told her about, had twisted him into a monster.

“Does she make you better?,” she asks, after he has finished his call. The question surprises him.

“Yes,” he says, quietly at first and then again, adoration tinting every word. “Yes, she does. But...not in the way you think. She tried to change me, yes, but she did more than just that. She loved me enough to believe I could change. Like maybe all the bad things weren’t what had to define my life, like I could chose to be more than what happened, even after...even after everything.”

“I see,” Aoi says. The gap between the table and her chair lets her see her own hands. They’re laying on her legs, fingers outstretched, palms relaxed. Somewhere in between entering the cafe and listening to Rei Serio talk, fear released its grip on her heart. “Why did you come?”

“I wanted to tell you….I’m sorry. All those months you had to spent in that cage, they’re on me. If I’d been a stronger man, a braver one, I could have gotten you out. But I only ever knew the darkness as a protector. I thought… I thought it might protect you, too. From me and the school and the whole damn fucking mess that was being an Alice back then. But as you said, we’re not the same person. Far from it. You were smart enough to take the hand that tried to save you. It took me a lot longer to do the same.”

“I don’t forgive you,” Aoi says. It feels important to make that clear, to make him realize that understanding him doesn’t erase the past, just puts it into perspective.

“I don’t expect you to,” Serio clarifies. “I just wanted...I wanted you to know that you were never to blame for that fire, or the cage, or your blindness. You never walked into that darkness by your own volition, I pushed you in.”

“I know,” Aoi counters almost automatically. Of course she knows. Right? Of course she has never spent the entire night imagining all the people who got hurt in that town fire or those many many months she never once tried to escape from her cage. Of course she never agonized over her own weakness and wondered how much faster her brother would have gotten away from Persona. Of course she knows. She breathes in and out and looks at him, her heated emotions replaced with pity.

“I never want to see you again,” Aoi tells Rei Serio.

He nods mutely. She thinks that this might be what endings feel like.

She feels lost when she isn’t in a relationship. Before, her father was always there but now she’s living alone and it makes her feel frail. It becomes harder and harder to stay positive, to keep going. Then, one day, she sees a girl with dark hair and dark eyes. They meet, they talk, they fall in love. It’s overwhelming and crazy and life-changing but the girl is like a bird, always ready to take flight and Aoi wants nothing more than for her to stay stay stay. The girl doesn’t want to stay and suddenly Aoi is alone again. She finishes her degree, she starts working. Possibilities are endless, are a chasm opening up in front of her to swallow her whole. She takes the first job she is offered and immerses herself in it. This is right, she tells herself. This is a great opportunity. This is who she is now, even if it feels nothing like the girl she was before and nothing like the girl she set out to be.

They part ways soon after that but she doesn’t go back to her car right away, instead opting to take a walk in a nearby park before sitting down on a bench. Rei Serio is a different man. It doesn’t change the fact that a long time ago, he was a bad one, but it does make her question other things. Perhaps it is possible to shed her skin. Perhaps it is possible to leave the familiar form of her body behind, to slip out of it like one would slip out of a dress and become something, become someone new.

At home, Aoi pulls her first architectural plans from the wall and stares at them. She’s been doing this job for years now and so she can spot all her small mistakes, her miscalculations, the moments where she got lazy. Still, something about the building is magical in the way only beginnings can be. It reminds her of her university days, of meeting her first girlfriend and sneaking kisses from her between classes.

“Free-standing, ambitious, cutting edge”. She picks up a pencil and turns the plans upside down. Her old drawings are still visible but less defined, not a finished product but the first buds of a new idea. Kneeling in front of her plans, she starts drawing. The metal is replaced with wood but she keeps the glass. Aoi draws a building that is floating, balancing walls of windows on poles of wood. One forest fire and the whole thing would come down, she thinks, and the thought makes her feel giddy not scared. She adds steel to the wooden poles, a hidden core of strength. She wants a building that both blends into its surroundings and enhances them, something that looks time and obscurity in the eye and gives both a defiant middle finger.

Her dark hair falls into her forehead, her fingers become smudged and her back hurts. But the house she is building keeps growing, takes on a life of its own. It isn’t a factory, it’s not made to be sturdy but it’s strong in structure as well as in character. Being blind for a few months has granted her the ability to feel materials as well as see their beauty, and now she can imagine it all, the coolness of the steal and the smoothness of the polished wood, the warmth of the sun shining through the enormous windows. The house is new and good and it has character, spirit, a genuine fire her other houses lacked.

Steps on the staircase make her turn around. Paige is there, her hair still tied back from a long day at work. She looks tired and for the first time Aoi wonders whether perhaps her girlfriend dislikes the fighting just as much as she does, dislikes what they’ve become and how they’ve trapped one another in a tight ball of expectations and fear.

“Hey,” she says tentatively.

“Hey,” Paige says. She stares down at the plans on the ground before sinking to the floor to sit next to Aoi. “You’re building something,” she says, less question, more statement of a fact.

“Yes,” Aoi says. “It’s a design for an architecture competition. Do you like it?”

Paige stares at it for a while.

“It’s beautiful,” she says eventually. “I didn’t know you wanted to design houses like that.”

“Me neither.”

They sit next to each other and Aoi scoots over until she can slip her hand into her girlfriend’s. The skin feels strange to her, unfamiliar.

“I think….I think this is over,” she says at length.

It’s strange that the words come to her now, when they aren’t fighting or yelling at each other. It’s almost peaceful to sit next to Paige, to feel the warmth of her body. But it isn’t romance, not anymore. Maybe the lack of anything between them is something only silence could reveal or maybe Aoi has seen it the whole time but really was too scared to search for something better.

“Yeah,” Paige says. She looks down at their clasped hands, squeezes them once and lets go. “I think so, too.”

They end up not having to fight over who gets the apartment. Paige owned it before they got together, it’s only fair she gets to keep it now. Aoi packs her things and leaves. It’s early morning so she drives to a copy shop to scan her design blueprint before forwarding it to the rich guy’s address. Then she climbs back into her car and drives two hours to her brother’s house.

He opens the door after the first knock and doesn’t seem all that surprised when he sees her belongings in boxes. He just picks them up, carries them into his home and then turns around to hug her.

“Hey, sis,” Natsume says.

“Hey idiot,” Aoi answers.

She falls asleep next to him that night, nestled between him and Mikan and it’s the best sleep she has gotten in months. Aoi doesn’t end up staying with them long, only two weeks or so. The money she receives when the rich guy tells her he wants to commission her to design his house is enough for her to rent out a small apartment, one filled with no one but her. She quits her job, too, and it’s easier than she expected. At night, she still sleeps with her lights turned on and sometimes the emptiness of her apartment is a terrifying thing.

The fear inside her never leaves and the memories don’t do either. She still sees her therapist, too, and it helps, even if it sometimes makes her question her own strength. But her life is all of it - the fire that destroyed her home town, her lost eyesight, her time in the Academy with Rei Serio, her brother’s love and her mother’s death. It’s a crazy life, and a good one and more than anything, it is hers.