#dee made a lot of points in between his personal venting

[kraviolis]

its crazy reading both bazza's and whippy's meta chats on their discords bcus bazza's is just "dundee is abusive & manipulative & trying to take back control of the club by turning barry against everyone & is poisoning our sweet boy barry" but then whippy's chat is just "dee's too fuckin stupid to manipulate anyone like that but the bbmc is even stupider for not realizing that"

[max-is-tired]

On Top Of The World (On Top Of It All)

Pairing: Analoceit

Characters: Virgil Sanders, Deceit Sanders, Logan Sanders, Remus Sanders, Roman Sanders, Patton Sanders, Character Thomas (mentioned)

Words: 4.365

Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit & Remus, swearing, kissing, one very light innuendo and light graphic talk by Remus, there’s a fight but the characters have agreed to it and no one gets hurt

Notes: Let’s start with a big round of applause for my amazing boyfriend @afulldeckofaces who commissioned this big boy -he asked for pining Loceit and Confident Virgil, and who am I to deny these two beautiful concepts?

Writing this was so much fun, and I hope you guys will love it at least as much as I enjoyed working on it!!!!

Commission me!!  Buy me a coffee!!  Join my Discord server!!

When Logan and Deceit initially got together, it really hadn’t been a surprise to anyone -apart from maybe Thomas, but he had since stopped questioning most of the things that went down in his mind. So when they told him he simply blinked, shrugged in that specific way people do when they are way too tired to try and actually think about whatever the hell is going on and smiled at the way his two sides leaned on each other, genuinely happy for them.

Point was, everyone had seen it coming, recognized their hopeless pining for what it was despite the two sides’ vehement denial (“denial isn’t just a river in Egypt, dude”) and collectively breathed a sigh of relief when the two finally got their heads out of their asses and actually talked about their feelings for once in their life.

(Roman was just a tad bitter that both Deceit and Logan had refused to see reason for so long despite his best efforts to act as the perfect Cupid he was, and also that Remus had only won their little bet because gay panic was one hell of a way to make Deceit blurt out the truth. So what?)

What no one had exactly seen coming -apart from Remus because he was Deceit’s go-to when he needed to ramble/vent about something and therefore was aware of most things regarding his love life before anyone else, mostly to his brother’s dismay- was the small, minuscule crush the two were starting to develop on Virgil.

Which really, could you blame them? He was calm, snarky, and if Logan had to be honest, he had been harboring a tiny, infinitesimal infatuation for the anxious side since the time they had their first debate, back in the mindscape’s palace when Thomas had been dealing with cognitive distortions.

(For Dee, it was more complicated, having had feelings for Virgil since before their falling out only to feel them rekindle once they had started to grow closer again, side to side with the burning flame that were his feelings for Logan. Accepting that those feelings were still a thing had been an ordeal, to say the least, but having Logan at his side as they worked on figuring it out had helped immensely.)

So yeah, both Deceit and Logan were kind of crushing on Virgil. But that didn’t mean they were going to act on it, despite Remus’ constant suggestions that they should “try and tap that booty.” After all, it’s not like Virgil would be interested, and the feelings were completely, one hundred percent manageable.

Right? 

(Spoiler alert: they were wrong. So, so wrong.)

+++

It all started one particular afternoon, when Roman barged into the living room with a very worried look on his face.

“Please tell me someone has seen Remus at least once since this morning,” he questioned immediately, his gaze traveling from the kitchen, where Patton was currently backing some cookies, and the couch, from where Logan and Deceit were staring back at him with twin looks of both confusion and annoyance.

If Roman had to be honest, it was kind of creepy to see, and he was the one with an actual twin.

“I can’t say we have,” Logan finally answered, looking about ready to go back to his book.

“Neither have I, sorry Ro,” Patton called from the kitchen doorway, looking at him with a worried frown. “Why, did something happen?”

“No, but it might soon,” Roman answered, looking more troubled by the second. “Last time I saw him, he said he was going to the Imagination to work on a project. I have no idea what he’s working on, but the last time he spent this much time holed up there he ended up setting loose an entire army of bright green rats while proclaiming himself their Rat King, so I think you can guess why I’m a tiny bit worried right now.”

Deceit sighed, sharing a glance with Logan before turning towards the prince.

“I guess I’ll go check on him,” he said, standing up.

Logan gave him one look and immediately stood up himself, settling his book on the coffee table as he readjusted his tie.

“I’m coming with you. If he really has something planned, I might be able to help you reign him in.”

“Sounds good,” Deceit nodded, giving his boyfriend a small smile before taking his hand and turning towards Roman. “The Imagination, you said?”

Roman gave them a nod, while Patton looked at them in worry.

“Be careful, alright?” he called after them, watching as the two sunk out of the room.

Then, Roman seemed to realize something, turning towards Patton with a confused frown.

“Wait, where’s Virgil?”

+++

Between all the sides, Deceit, Virgil and Roman were the only ones who had actually set foot in Remus’ side of the Imagination before.

Over the years, the view had never changed much. A dark, ominous forest. Creatures that looked normal but not quite. A night that never ends, with a blood-red moon as the only companion. A tall, far-away tower, always visible in the distance but never seeming to grow closer.

This time, however, when Deceit rose up with Logan’s hand held tightly in his, the world around them was completely different. They were standing in what appeared to be a big, unassuming square circled by various buildings, the fumes and smells associated with cities surrounding them even without any people or cars passing by.

It was eerily silent, and Deceit didn’t like it one bit.

“I thought Remus’ domain would bear more similarities with Roman’s fantastical kingdom,” Logan commented, looking around with a hint of curiosity.

“It usually does, even if leaning much more on the ‘scary forest where literally everything could kill you’ side of the spectrum,” Deceit answered, studying their surroundings with much more suspicion. “In all the years I’ve known him, he’s never changed the landscape on his side of the Imagination.”

“Oh please, I’ve done it plenty of times,” a very familiar voice suddenly called from above their heads, “just never when you were around!”

Deceit and Logan looked up, trying to spot the source of the voice. Remus grinned back at them, hanging upside-down from what appeared to be-

“Wait, is that the floating cloud from Dragon Ball?” Deceit asked, staring in confusion at the cloud Remus seemed to be sitting on.

“Hell yeah! Do you like it?”

“... I’m almost afraid to ask this, but is there a reason it’s pitch back instead of the original white or is it just for the aesthetic?”

Remus wiggled his mustache, obviously excited by Deceit’s question in a way that made the side immediately regret ever speaking in the first place.

“White is overrated, and also this one can shoot lightning bolts!”

As if to demonstrate Remus’ words, the cloud immediately started crackling with energy, lightning zipping through the air and hitting the ground on the other side of the square.

“Woohoo!” Remus cheered, cackling like a madman at his own destruction.

As for Deceit, he fought to keep his expression neutral, squeezing Logan’s hand once it looked like his boyfriend was about to go try and investigate.

Logan rolled his eyes but relented, keeping his curiosity in check. For now, at least.

“Care to explain why exactly you changed the scenery, then?” Deceit asked, “I didn’t peg you for the city type.”

“Oh, it’s not for me, it’s for Virgil!” Remus grinned, straightening upon his personal cloud and snickering at the two sides’ growing confusion.

“Come on up, I’ll show you,” he offered, guiding the cloud down to give the two a chance to safely board.

Logan didn’t need to hear it twice, immediately mounting on the floating and very solid cloud -his boyfriend was a little more cautious, having had to deal with a lot of surprise features in Remus’ creations.

“Up we go!” Remus cheered, and suddenly the cloud was rising into the sky, making both Deceit and Logan hold on for dear life.

“Remus, where the hell are you taking us?!” Deceit frantically asked, watching the ground get farther and farther away.

Remus simply answered by gesturing excitedly to a nearby building, bringing their attention to a very familiar purple shape standing on a rooftop.

“Is that Virgil?” Deceit asked, squinting, “wait, what is he-”

Before he could finish his question, Deceit watched in horror as Virgil suddenly started sprinting towards the edge of the rooftop, feeling Logan stiffen at his side as he opened his mouth to shout something, anything that would stop the anxious side before it was too late.

But then, he felt his cry die on his lips as he watched with wide eyes Virgil leap gracefully from one rooftop to the next, rolling and leaping to his feet with the grace and flexibility of someone who has done this over and over.

“Oh my god,” Deceit whispered, feeling Logan peer down from beside him as they watched Virgil leap and jump from building to building with whoops and cheers of joy and the biggest smile anyone had ever seen on his face.

“He’s beautiful,” Logan murmured, attracting Deceit’s gaze on himself -he was staring at Virgil with wide eyes, a soft blush covering his cheeks and his eyes twinkling in a way Deceit had ever witnessed only when Logan was either talking or looking at the stars.

“He is,” he hummed in agreement, feeling a small, soft smile stretch on his face despite his best efforts to fight it down.

Behind them, Remus giggled in obvious delight as he watched the two become more and more smitten by the second.

“He’s been asking to use my part of the Imagination to practice for years now!” he chirped in explanation, “he does this once or twice a week, and in exchange, he gives me pointers on how to be that flexible.”

He grabbed his foot from behind and easily raised it to rest on his shoulder as a demonstration, wiggling his mustache throughout the entire process.

“There was no need to show us, Remus,” Deceit grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. Logan kept staring, raising an inquisitive eyebrow as Remus wiggled his foot at him.

“Are you implying that Virgil might be as flexible as that?” he asked.

“Oh, he’s much more flexible than me,” Remus shrugged, letting his foot fall back down, “seriously, sometimes I can’t help but wonder if he actually has a backbone or not. Wait, do you think I could get more flexible if I got my backbone out?”

“I do not advise trying, no,” Logan chided half-heartedly, blinking at the creative side as he tried to process his words.

“Oh god, I’m going to die,” Deceit muttered, hiding his flaming face in his hands as images of Virgil showcasing his… flexible abilities filled his brain.

Remus started cackling at their expressions, rolling around the cloud while clutching his stomach.

Ignoring him, Deceit and Logan exchanged a flustered glance, before turning around to stare at Virgil’s figure still bolting and jumping around the buildings under them.

It looked like this crush of theirs was not going away as quickly as they’d hoped, was it?

+++

Okay so, Virgil was flexible and apparently did weekly parkours over city landscapes Remus conjured just for him. So? Logan and Deceit could still deal with that and manage not to die of gay at the mere thought of just how agile and flexible their crush was.

Then, Roman decided it would be a good idea to challenge Virgil to a duel.

Granted, the proposal was meant mostly as a joke, a direct answer to Virgil threatening to kick Roman’s ass if he didn’t stop singing random Disney songs at full volume as everyone tried to relax.

But Virgil had easily accepted it, surprising literally everyone in the room as Roman looked at him as if he had grown two heads.

“What, Princey?” Virgil had asked, a lopsided grin stretching on his face, “scared you’re gonna lose to little old me?”

And so there they were, Roman and Virgil standing at the opposing sides of the arena the creative side had conjured while the others watched on from the sidelines -Patton had been very worried initially, but both sides had assured him that one, none of them were planning to injure badly the other and two, no sharp weapons would be used, so the father figure had eventually relented and followed the others on the stands.

“Who do you think will win?” Patton asked as he sat down, fidgeting with his cardigan.

“While I cannot deny that Virgil’s fight or flight instincts will probably be helpful in such a fight-” Logan started, looking at the two sides standing in the arena with twin wooden staffs in their hands- “his opponent is far more experienced than him in these kinds of things. Therefore, I suppose Roman will come out as the winner.”

Deceit nodded in agreement, wondering why Virgil had thought accepting this duel would be a good idea. Sure, the guy knew how to pack a punch -Deceit had found that out the hard way when he’d accidentally startled the anxious side during one of his panic attacks- but Roman quite literally fought bandits and Dragon Witches for fun. He obviously had the upper hand.

Remus watched the two sides lean forward, fighting down a snicker as his mind traveled to the numerous sparring match he’d had with Virgil when they both needed to let out steam.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

As if reading his mind, Roman suddenly bolted forward, staff held securely in his left hand as he prepared to strike down on his opponent. Quicker than anyone could see him, Virgil rolled to the side, easily avoiding Roman’s blow as he immediately leaped to his feet.

The fanciful side didn’t seem to be deterred by Virgil’s obvious agility, turning around to strike again and again with a type of ease only an experienced fighter can hope to achieve.

They went on like this for a while, with Roman delivering one strike after another and Virgil parrying and dodging every single hit, eyes reduced to slits as he focused on his opponent’s movements and nothing else.

As they watched, everyone had slowly started scooting forward in their seats, no more words being shared as they observed the two sides meeting and clashing only to pull away again. It almost looked like a graceful dance following a song only they could hear, their bodies moving in tandem as they both fought for the upper hand.

Then, Deceit felt the hair at the back of his neck stand up to attention, almost on instinct squeezing Logan’s hand as he leaned forward in sudden anticipation. He didn’t know why, but he felt as if something was going to happen very soon, and he did not want to miss it.

As if on command, Roman moved to attack once again, and a grin suddenly appeared on Virgil’s lips. Without missing a beat, the anxious side moved his body just a little to the left, hitting the inside of Roman’s arm with his staff as he slipped his foot just behind the other’s and kicked his legs off from under him.

Roman let go of his weapon with a pained yelp, falling flat on his ass as his balance was so suddenly thrown out from under him. Cursing under his breath, he started to reach for his fallen weapon only to find himself face to face with Virgil’s staff, hovering just in front of his face and blocking his movements.

“I don’t think so, Princey,” Virgil chuckled, giving him his signature lopsided smile as he slipped his weapon to tilt the creative side’s chin up.

“I’d say I won, don’t you agree?”

Roman gulped, looking up at him with wide eyes before answering with a small, trembling nod.

The sides sitting on the stands weren’t fairing much better, staring in absolute disbelief as the arena slowly disappeared from around them and Virgil helped Roman up -at least, everyone but Remus, who was too busy cackling his ass off at their surprise to care much about anything else right now.

“You guys were incredible!” Patton cheered, bolting forward to drag the two panting sides in a hug.

“Thanks, Padre,” Roman laughed, returning the hug as best as he could, “I was not expecting out resident emo to be such a valiant foe, but I’m positive a rematch will set the results right.”

Virgil snorted, patting Patton’s back with one hand as he arched his eyebrows at Roman.

“I’m down to beating your ass again anytime you want, Princey,” he teased, a shit-eating grin tugging at his lips as Roman let out his certified Offended Princey Noises™.

Patton gasped, turning his head around to stare at Virgil.

“Vee, language!”

“Sorry, Pat.”

Logan and Deceit watched over the scene from the sidelines, still trying to recover from what they had just witnessed.

“Uh, Virgil, if I may-” Logan called, attracting the side’s attention to himself as he nervously adjusted his tie- “where did you learn to fight like that?”

That was… something Deceit really wanted to know too, if he had to be honest.

Virgil shrugged, gently pulling away from Patton’s hug to properly look at them.

“I just… always knew how, I guess? Being fight or flight and all that,” he answered, looking at the two sides with the same lopsided smile he’d been sporting while tilting Roman’s chin up with his staff and-

Yup, it was official. Logan and Deceit were way too gay to deal with this shit.

+++

After that, it didn’t take long for things to finally come to a head.

It was a series of episodes, piling up one after another as Logan and Deceit fought more and more to frantically keep their crush in check.

A perfect example was that one time Roman somehow convinced all of them to join him in a quest, something he’d never quite managed before.

After crossing the entrance to the Imagination, all of them had found themselves wearing clothes that were starkly different from the ones they’d had had on a few seconds before.

Namely, Deceit’s robe now had much more flair to it, a wizard staff suddenly clutched in his hand as a long, black cloak with his symbol stitched on it hung loosely around his body.

Deceit hummed as he took in his new attire, feeling the weight of a sword hanging from his side as he begrudgingly had to admit that Roman hadn’t done a half-bad job with their clothes -something he remarked with stark clarity as he took in Logan’s much more practical shirt, jacket and pants that hung in a very flattering way on his lean figure.

Then, Deceit made the mistake to let his gaze move towards Virgil and all coherent thoughts suddenly screeched to a halt.

Virgil was wearing what looked like ranger robes, the dark hood of his battered cloak shadowing half of his face as the anxious side examined the slick bow he was now holding in his hands. Hidden under the cloak, Deceit could see the metallic glint of a black armor protecting Virgil’s body, the hilt of a sword peeking out from one of his sides.

In the back of his head, Deceit found himself thinking that maybe, Roman always calling Virgil their Dark and Stormy Knight was more accurate than they’d previously accounted for.

Taken as he was in admiring Virgil’s new outfit, Deceit failed to notice the way the others were getting ready to start their journey, slowly advancing down the path in front of them. He only noticed when Virgil shot him a strange look, arching his eyebrows as if silently asking if everything was alright.

Fighting down the blush threatening to rise to his cheeks, Deceit gave a terse nod, hurrying to catch up with the others before they noticed. In his hurry, though, the deceitful side failed to pay attention to his own cloak, now reaching to his feet instead of just covering his shoulders. As one might expect, he ended up tripping on it, a small curse already on the tip of his tongue as he flailed his arms around to hopelessly try and stop his fall.

Deceit closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, preparing himself to a relatively painful meeting with the ground -only to feel a pair of strong, warm arms wrap around his waist, stopping his fall midway through.

“Dude, you okay?” Virgil asked, looking torn between worry and amusement as he held the other side close to his chest.

Deceit blinked, looking at him with obvious surprise in his eyes as he took in their sudden vicinity. Then, he grumbled something under his breath, pushing at Virgil’s chest until he was finally free from his hold and stalking forward with the anxious side’s low chuckle trailing behind him.

And if the blush on his cheeks was due to more than simple embarrassment, well, that was nobody’s business but Deceit’s.

Logan’s turn to become a flustered mess had come not even a week later, as he walked down the hallway with a book in his hands and everything in his mind but looking where he was going.

All the warning he got was the sound of quickly approaching footsteps, followed by someone cursing under their breath and a hand suddenly wrapping around his forearm.

Before he knew it, Logan had his back pressed against the wall, a very familiar purple shirt filling his vision as he heard two sets of pounding footsteps bolt down the corridor and Remus’ cackling laughter fill the air.

Once the two brothers were finally far enough for them to be able to safely move, Virgil pulled back, letting out a sigh of relief as he rested his hands on the sides of Logan’s head.

“Thank god,” he muttered, glaring towards the direction the twins had disappeared in, “I was almost sure they were going to run you over without a care in the world.”

Then, he looked down, finally noticing the stunned expression on Logan’s face as he held his book limply in his hands.

“Uh,” he muttered, frowning, “L, you good? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Logan shook his head, looking to the side with splotches of red covering his cheeks.

“No, I am-” he cleared his throat, raising one hand to nervously adjust his tie as he tried to look everywhere but in Virgil’s eyes, “I can assure you, I am perfectly fine.

“Are you sure? Wait-” Virgil squinted at him, leaning forward to take in his red cheeks and suspicious behavior- “Lo, are you sick and trying to hide it again?”

“Oh, would you look at the time!” Logan suddenly exclaimed, looking redder by the second as he slipped away from under Virgil’s arms, “I would love to chat some more but I have some important work that needs to be done, goodbye Virgil.”

“Logan, wait-”

Nope, too late, the logical side had already sunk out of the corridor, probably to hide in his room. Virgil sighed, dragging one hand down his face.

Well, it looked like he was going to need to sick Patton on him and hope for the best.

+++

Their final showdown, so to speak, went down during an inconspicuous afternoon, with Deceit and Logan hanging out in the deceitful side’s room. The two were curled on the bed, having initially planned to take a nap only to end up doing what seemed to have become their favorite past time as of late: gushing about Virgil.

“That raccoon has no right being as hot as he is, I swear,” Deceit grumbled, hiding his face in Logan’s chest.

“I know, dear,” Logan hummed, stroking his back. “Virgil is… very aesthetically attractive, and our debates are always great fun.”

“Nerd,” Deceit snorted, looking up at his boyfriend with a small smile. “Do you think he might feel the same?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know,” Logan admitted, a pensive frown on his face. “I do hope so, that’s for sure. Having him as our boyfriend would be… nothing short of wondrous, I suppose.”

“Then why don’t you just ask me?” came a very familiar voice, startling Deceit off of Logan’s chest as the two sides whipped their heads around.

Virgil stared back at them with his usual lopsided smile, leaning on the doorway as he looked at them in clear amusement.

“You guys forgot to lock the door,” he explained.

“Ah,” Logan said, cheeks turning redder by the second as he kept his eyes trained on Virgil.

“You know,” Virgil started, walking deeper into the room as he kicked the door closed behind himself, “I couldn’t help but notice how strangely you’ve both been actin, lately. So I thought I’d come to talk to you guys about it, you know?”

“I go to Logan’s room, but you guys are not there. No big deal, if you weren’t in one room then the other would probably be the correct one. Imagine my surprise as I stand in front of Deceit’s room, seeing it half open as I prepare to knock, only to hear you guys say my name.”

“How-” Deceit cleared his throat, trying to fight down the red staining his cheeks. “How much have you heard?”

“Enough,” Virgil shrugged. “So, are you going to ask me or what?”

Silence fell as Logan and Deceit looked at each other, sharing a silent conversation before Logan reached to squeeze Deceit’s hand and took a deep breath.

“Virgil, we were wondering if you would… be amenable to the idea of joining our relationship?”

Virgil’s grin widened considerably, a laugh escaping his mouth as he quickly erased the few feet left between him and the two sides and leaned forward, kissing them both silly.

“I would very, very much enjoy that, you dorks.” 

(From just outside the door, Remus let out a silent cheer, shimming in place before bolting towards his brother’s room. He had ten hard-earned bucks and a victory to rub on Roman’s face waiting just for him, after all.)

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Of Dust and Ashes (Chapter 20)

Happy Friday! Did you all miss Dust last week? I realized while editing this that I left y’all hanging for a extra week to find out what happened to the baby. Oops? Can y’all forgive me?

Masterlist   Ko-fi

Chapter warnings: Weather exposure

Clint Barton x ofc

Chapter 20: Too Late?

There was a tension in the air as they stood, watching the caravan make their way down the road. The roaring of engines and crunching of ice filled the air. There sound of sobbing coming from the crates carried over the snow like a haunting song. Neither dared to speak more than needed for fear of drawing attention to themselves. It didn’t need to be spoken for they both feared that if the caravan saw the gate would be opening they would turn around and fall on them.  

The breeze carried strands of Dee’s hair across her face, tickling her nose and cheeks. She tucked the strands back behind her ear and darted her eyes to where Clint stood, stock still and knuckles white where he gripped the truck door.  

The sky was gray with heavy clouds above them. It trapped warmth for the world below them and Dee prayed that warmth was enough to keep that baby alive until they could get to her. Fat white snowflakes fell as they watched the tail of the caravan farther down the road now, making slow and steady progress. They took the nightmares of what was their society with them.

While she watched the retreating figures, her mind wondered. If she were to be honest with herself, there was a part of her that didn’t want to go. A small part of her was scared. The jagged shard of fear pierced deep into her, cutting straight to the bone.

It wasn’t that she was afraid to leave and go outside the gates. It was what they may find if they were able to locate the baby that scared her so much.  

This wouldn’t be the first time she’d tried to save a baby. The memory was even now burned in her mind. The way the little body looked, bloated and leaking fluids onto the too big bed haunted her dreams, played to the soundtrack of screams. Could she survive going through that again?

At least this time the body would be fresh, she told herself but that did nothing to help the fear lodged deep in her stomach. There were many creatures within the forests. She was well aware that dogs ran these woods, hungry and only beginning to learn the ways of their ancestors. Many would leap at the chance for an easy meal.  

“Let’s go.” She nodded at Clint’s word and they slipped into the truck. “Friday, gate.”

~~~~~<3

“Keep your eyes on the lookout.” Clint commented, driving slowly.  

It was easy enough to follow the tracks the caravan had left through the snow. They’d been driving for over an hour and all they found was dirty tracks, gray and brown from wheels mixing ashy snow, dirt and settled.  

“There.” Dee pointed. Part of her, a small part of her doubted if she should have said anything. The bundle was small and still.

Surely it was too late. Surely the baby was already gone. Surely it was better to leave it and go home.  

Clint threw the truck in park. The cab jerked and slid a few short inches along the ice before coming to a stop, much like her heart. Although she had her fears, her doubts all left her mind the moment she had the door opened. Her heart took over, much to the dismay of her mind. Snow crunched under her boots as each step came rushed, faster than the last and carried her closer.  

Her hands shook- though from cold or fear, she couldn’t say. Trembling fingers reached out for the bundle of rags, brown and dirty. They were still- so still and her breath locked in her chest. As Clint came to her side, there was a whimper from the bundle. It was such a soft sound that it was almost lost on the wind.  

“Oh my god.” Dee whispered.

“She’s alive.” Clint sounded as shocked as she was. “Get her out of the snow, I’ll get the heat cranked in the truck.”  

The baby was wrapped in many layers of scrap cloth. When Dee uncovered the child’s face, she was cool to the touch. Small fingers and tiny lips had a blue tinge to them. It took everything she had to not shove the child in front of the hot air from the vents. Instead she shed her coat and held the bundled babe to her chest.

“What do we do now?” Dee whispered, feeling relief as the small bundle began to squirm more a little more each passing minute. It began to squawk more as the truck rolled down the snow covered road. “We’ve got a baby- now what?”

“Formula.” Clint answered, turning down side roads.  

“And you happen to know where some would be?” The baby in her arms started to coo and whine. “We’ll also need something to diaper her with.”

“She need changing?” Clint glanced over as Dee worked the layers of dirty cloth off the small body. “How old do you think she is anyway?”

“Not yet but she will. God, she’s so skinny.” Dee was able to get a closer look at the almost naked babe with the scraps of cloth away. She was still far too cold but as she warmed, she seemed to be coming to life. “She’s probably a few weeks old?”  

“Shit.” Clint grimaced as he looked over at her. “God, are they always so skinny at that age?”

“No- not that I remember. The belly- it’s not…” She shrugged, poking at the little belly. It lacked all the soft plumpness  she had remembered from her own children.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve taken care of a baby.” Clint offered.

“How old is your youngest?”  

“He is- was three. Just over three years old.” His jaw worked through the tension.

It had taken time but he could finally talk about them, his family, though for only short spells. It still pained him to dwell on them. In some ways, the kids hurt more.

Laura knew he was human but to the kids- he was a hero to them. To them, he could do anything. Failing them hurt more than anything else in the world.  

“I’ve got you beat. Frankie was seven. Would be eight now.”  

“Between the two of us, we can manage a baby for a bit- right?”  

“For how long?” She whispered. “What are we going to do with her, Clint? Do we name her? Do we- fuck, is she ours now? I can’t- I can’t do that Clint. Not right now. Not with how the-”

“Hey, hey.” His strong arm rapped around her bicep and gave a squeeze. He squeezed again and again until she turned her panicked eyes to him. “We’re going to take care of her for now. And we’re going to get her fed and warmed. Get her hydrated and in clean diapers and clothes. We’re going to get her situated.”

“Then what?” Tears gathered in her eyes. “I can’t-”

“I know. I can’t either- not right now. We’re going to get her situated, then I’m going to get her mother.”

“What about King Jacob?”

“I’ll kill him if I have to.”

“I want to go. I want to help. I need to help.”

“Dee- she’s a baby. She can’t be alone.”

“But-”

“Tell you what. Let’s see how she does. If she’s stable than maybe you can take the bow and we’ll figure something out. But I do not want you anywhere near the action. You’re job would be to protect her and watch my back from the distance.”

“Clint-”

“But only if she’s strong enough.” He didn't even want to give her that much. It was an agreement he had no intention of following through on. Dee was his to protect and to allow her into battle, even removed from the action was more risk to her than he would allow. He wouldn't fail to protect another person in his life, not again.

“Okay.” She gave up as Clint pulled into a rural clinic parking lot. It was tucked deep into the forest and easy to miss. The snow around the clinic sparkled and was undisturbed. Windows and doors were intact. It didn’t matter if she liked it or not, the conversation was settled for now.  

“Do you think your jackets tight enough to hold her?” Clint asked, cutting the engine.

“Maybe, yeah. With the blankets. I don’t want to drop her.”

“I don’t want to advertise that we’ve got her. You never know who’s watching.”

Dee arranged the babe into the valley between her breasts, inside her shirt. She was still cool to the touch, far cooler than she’d like. Cold fingers flexed and short nails scratched at her skin. While the baby had perked up and started to fuss with all the moving around, she quickly settled with the contact.

Clint threw his quiver over his shoulder and gripped his tactical bow in one hand. Dee tossed her quiver and bow over her shoulder, hoping she wasn't going to have to use it. Knowing that there were others in the general area that were less than friendly put them both on edge.  

The font doors were locked, not that it was at all surprising. Dee allowed Clint to lead them as he searched for a way in. She followed close behind, keeping the baby nestled against her chest between them. She did her best to move in a way that no one would have any reason to expect there was a baby in her jacket but it was hard. The tiny body kept wanting to slide down.  

There wasn’t any signs of other people but that didn’t do anything to calm their nerves. Clint checked the back door and found it locked as well. There were no lights on inside, no signs of life at all.  

“What are you doing?” Dee asked as he knelt in the snow, flipping the cover off a generator.  

“Checking to see if the gen is full.”

"Why?"

"If it's full, chances are no one's here."

“And?”

“It is.” He stood, dusting his hands off on his pants. “Doesn’t look like it’s run in a long time.”

“Not since?” She didn’t want to finish what she was going to say.  

“I’d say no. Not for a good while even before, maybe. I’m going to try and start it.”  

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Dee asked as he brought it to life.

“Calculated risk. I’m going to pick the lock and we’re locking the door behind us. Get her warmed, check her out, feed her and hopefully find her some clothes.”  

Dee watched as he pulled some pins out of his wallet. With sure fingers, he made quick work of unlocking the knob. “What if there’s a deadbolt?”

“Than I say fuck it and break the door down? Or break the lock.” It turned out they didn’t need to worry about it.  

“Who’s there?” Came a timid voice from inside. “I’ve got a gun. I- I know how to use it!”

“My name is Clint. Her name is Dee. We mean you no harm.”  

“Then why are you trying to break in?”  

“We’ve got a baby with us.” Clint gave Dee a look when she gave away their secret. “We thought the clinic was abandoned. We were looking for supplies to help her.”

“Go rob someone else.”  

“We can trade.” Clint offered. “We’ve got some cans of food.”

“What do you want?”

“Formula.” Dee offered. “Bottles, if you have any. Some clothes for her? Blankets.”  

“Just breast feed it- it’s better that way anyway. Save formula for those who can’t.”

“Bold of you to assume she can.” Clint snapped. “We’re not about wasting supplies.”

“So her supply hasn’t come in?” The woman asked through the door.

“It’s not my baby. She was abandoned by King Jacob’s caravan, separated from her mother.” Dee pressed, not wanting to give Clint a chance to get testy with the woman behind the door. “We’re trying to save her life. She was half frozen when we found her and she’s so small. She’s got no clothes, no diaper and I don’t know when the last time she nursed was. She’s so small. Please- Please help us. We’ll give you food, whatever food we have in the truck- hell you can have it all.”

There was silence. Clint and Dee looked at each other as seconds felt like they stretched on into minutes then hours. Snow fell around them. The exhaust from the generator wafted up to the sky. White puffs of breath dissipated in front of their faces.  

It felt so wrong to be just standing there, waiting. They felt naked and exposed, locked out of the clinic. They were beginning to worry that the woman wasn’t going to let them in. They worried that they’d have to break the door down and go to war to get formula for the baby. Then the sound they had been waiting for reached their ears. They almost missed it, the sound of the deadbolt was that soft. There was one more click and the door opened.  

The woman inside was small and thin. Clearly, the time since the decimation hadn’t treated her well at all. Her blue eyes were sunken in and ringed with dark circles. Blemishes marred her too pale skin. They looked perhaps worse than they were, the red being in such stark contrast to the rest of her face.  

Her wavy blonde hair was a matted mess, held back in a low ponytail. It was clear she had been young, full of life when the decimation happened. The new world seemed to have sucked the life out of her in the last few months.  

“Hurry, get in here.” They didn’t wait for a second invitation.  

“Why haven’t you been using the generator?” Clint asked as she closed the door behind them and locked it.  

“I couldn’t start it.” She admitted. “I’m not sure how the pipes haven’t frozen yet. I guess I just got lucky.”

“You’ve been living here without power?” Dee asked, thankful for the slight warmth in the building. It wasn’t cold inside but it wasn’t warm either.  

“I’ve been using the fireplace to cook what food I could stash. I try not to use it during the day. Don’t want to draw attention to myself. I had a run in with King Jacob’s followers a few weeks ago, before the snow started. I was lucky to get away.”

“Why here and not a house or something?” Dee asked as Clint looked around.  

“What’s the heat in here?”  

“Woodstove and natural gas. I haven’t been running the natural gas- the systems don’t work good without electric.” She directed her attention once again to Dee, “Dr. Ross kept the in house pharmacy stocked. We had to upgrade security a while ago, bullet proof windows and break in resistant doors. It seemed safer and had a functional kitchen until the electric shut off.”

“Clint made quick work of getting the heat going. While the natural gas furnace kicked on, he had to light the pilot light to prevent the clinic from filling with toxic fumes rather than warmth. He’d mentioned that it should have kicked on automatically when power was restored but didn’t. It didn’t surprise him, things tended to malfunction and not be repaired when you’re this far from the town.

Dee carefully toted on a few bags of canned food. The cans lived in the truck, kept so when Clint was exploring, searching for food and supplies he would have something to eat. Under the seats were some bags of pasta.

It wasn’t much at all but it was more than Sasha, the nurse had to eat in a long time. She wouldn’t be able to survive on it alone but Clint and Dee knew she didn’t have to. Now that they knew she was there, they could run her supplies as needed. Any medical professional was a thing to support now when so many had been lost. They had no intention of giving up enough to make their own prospects of survival questionable even in the slightest. Still, they had surplus that would likely see them through the winter and beyond even should they give some away.

The garden had done well enough and the freezer was fully stocked with frozen vegetables. Inside the shed, Clint had rigged up heating shortly before the first frost. At first, he had been simply pulling the trailer greenhouse inside during the nights to keep the plants alive a bit longer.

Then, shortly after rigging the chicken coop for the winter he stopped in a farming town a good 200 miles south of the farmhouse. It was getting harder to find chicken feed but the chickens didn’t seem to mind as larger and larger portions of their diet became produce scraps. It was still a jackpot when he found large bags of feed.  

It was one of the most productive supply runs he had in weeks. He’d returned to the farmhouse after having been gone for the better part of a day. Dee had been sick with worry when he rolled up. There was no way she could miss the proud smile on his face that typically was the first sign of a hair brained idea that would make their lives better.  

It took a day to install grow lights in the shed. When the plants within the greenhouse began to thrive, giving them a supply of fresh berries, lettuce, celery and tomatoes through the frosty fall he wasted no time in expanding the operation. As he was able to track down large, deep pots and potting soil, Clint slowly filled the shed with plants to grow through the winter. Squash, beans, peas and peppers were lined up in neat rows, just sprouts at best but in time, they would grow.  

They could use surplus to trade and since they were locked behind a secure gate, they were safe. In large pots, small twigs seemed to reach for the ceiling and Clint hoped that by spring thaw he would be able to plant the trees outside, giving them apples, oranges and pears.  

Now that surplus would hopefully save a baby’s life and buy them the loyalty of a nurse. Canned food was a convince for them, not a necessity. Sasha wasted no time in opening a can of green beans and picking long green sticks out of the can and eating them. She drank the juice and reached for another can.

“Wait- be careful.” Dee rested her hand on Sasha’s too thin arm. “We’ve got more food- at the house. It looks like you’ve done without for a while, if you eat too much too fast, won’t you make yourself sick?”

“You’re right.” Sasha sighed. Warmth was pouring from the vents now, quickly warming the room. It was still cold but at least her fingers no longer ached. “The baby?”

Dee looked to Clint for confirmation before working the zipper of her jacket down. Inside was the little bundle, tucked inside her shirt and sleeping against her chest. She fussed when moved and it didn’t take long at all for her to work herself up into a fit, though Dee wasn’t surprised at all given how hungry she had to be.  

“And she’s not yours?” Sasha asked, wiping down a scale with disinfectant before turning and grabbing a stack of thin blankets from under a counter. It was fascinating, watching the woman shift and training begin to take over.  

~~~~~<3 

Tag list is always open

@usedtobegoodfriend96, @tnystrk-exe, @acoholic-muffin, @theoneanna, @alexakeyloveloki, @winterisakiller, @toozmanykids, @j-u-s-t-4, @missaphrodite23, @bambamwolf87, @nonsensicalobsessions, @tinchentitri, @xoxabs88xox, @queenoftheunderdark, @myoxisbroken, @carissime72, @coyotesongwriting, @faemapfae, @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123, @wegingerangelica

[perspective-series]

Exposed Perspective (5)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: Guilt, fear, panic, being trapped, people being used/treated like test subjects and injury.

THIS IS THE THIRD STORY IN A TRILOGY. READ “A Third Perspective” AND “Switched Perspectives” FOR THIS TO MAKE SENSE!

(Check the reblog for the links to the previous chapters and the TWO prequels!)

———————————————————————————————

The dean walked through the halls, down the basement stairs to the private biology labs. In the back sat one reserved just for him, and this was his destination. The cage that Logan returned still sat on the counter and Dee considered recycling it to be poetic justice. He took the creatures out of his pocket, tossing them both inside.

“Well well well, would you look at you.” Dee crooned, giving them a cold grin.

 Both borrowers groaned as they were thrown onto hard metal and then both promptly froze at the voice. Virgil especially would recognize that voice anywhere.

 In unison, they both looked up to meet eyes with who they could only assume was Dr. Dee. But based on the voice and the way he was looking at them, Virgil figured it was a fair assumption. “N-No,” Virgil muttered, scooting back. He heard Patton whimper.

The professor’s eyes widened. “So, the little birdy speaks.” He snatched Virgil back up in a fist, pulling him back out to inspect further. “Fascinating.”

 “Ah!” Virgil cried, struggling within the tight grip. It was nothing like Roman’s or Logan’s, even back when they first met. Dee’s grip was close to suffocating. He just had to go and open his mouth. Well, no going back now. “Let us go!”

 Patton, meanwhile, could only stare helplessly as Dee had his friend. “Yeah! Let us go!”

The dean ignored their pleas, instead reaching for the tiniest tongue compressor available and using it to hold the subject’s mouth open. 

 Virgil let out a muffled cry as his mouth was opened by a wooden stick. He tried to turn his head but the stick held him in place as well.

 Patton felt tears start to run down his face. “Stop it!” He didn’t know what Dee was doing but it didn’t look good.

“Extraordinary.” Dr. Dee peered over the bridge of his nose down into the tiny throat. Every fragment, every crevice- however minuscule- resembled that of the human body. Changing tactics, he set the stick to the side to examine the saliva later. For now, he set the creature down on the counter, using his fingers to keep it in a starfish formation.

With his free hand, Dee grabbed a thin, long metal rod and began to prod the specimen in various places.

 Virgil struggled, even more, ignoring how tired he was starting to feel. His eyes widened at the metal stick and shut his eyes tight as it started to poke at him. He hated this, he hated this, he hated this-!

 Patton hated watching it and couldn’t help but shout at Dee. “Stop, please! Let Virgil go!”

“Virgil, hm?” Dee used the long end of the rod to carefully lift the subject’s chin, briefly recognizing the name from a strange and frustrating call the week before. “‘Far too cumbersome to remember, but subject V. would suffice. Are we clear?”

 “Wh-What? No! We’re not things for you to rename or use! We’re people!” Virgil shouted up at the human, still be held down.

“Hardly.” The doctor set the rod down, bringing subject V back into his fist. “Though a person is just as easily manipulated as a puppet, none is quite so literally fitting of that role as yourself. I don’t know what you are, but it certainly isn’t human. You’re far too malleable.” To illustrate his point. Dee gave subject V a squeeze.

 Virgil cried out in pain as Dee squeezed him tight. Patton’s eyes widened. “Stop! You’re hurting him!”

“That was the intention,” Dee smirked, releasing the pressure and turning to the subject still in the cage. “A creature will do what you wish either due to the promise of reward or the threat of a punishment. I prefer the latter. The amount of punishment a creature endures is dependent entirely upon their own level of intelligence. Well, that and their pain tolerance.” Dee gave a low chuckle. 

 “We...We may not be human but we don’t deserve this.” Patton spoke, trying to reason with Dee. “I mean, we can talk and think! That has to count for something, right?”

“Oh, absolutely.” The professor deposited V back into the cage, switching out subjects to bring the one who kept talking out to play. “Those talents are what make your kind so extraordinary.”

 Virgil quickly stood up, wasting no time in yelling at Dee. “Let him go! I swear if you hurt him…” Virgil practically growled out.

 Patton struggled against the grip, looking up at Dee with pleading eyes. “Please, we’re just like you, just smaller. And you wouldn’t do any of this to another human, right?”

“You clearly don’t know me very well.” The dean gave a humorless chuckle, looking between the two subjects and noticing V’s fondness for the one is his hand. “What’s your name?”

 Patton glared at Dee. “I’m not telling you.”

 Virgil’s eyes widened. 

Dee turned to subject V. “What’s its name?”

 Virgil grit his teeth. “He’s not an it.” He glanced at Patton, who shook his head. He didn’t know what Patton was doing and knew this could only end badly but he went along with it anyway. 

 He was going to regret this.

 “And I’m not telling you either.” Don’t hurt Patton, don’t hurt Patton.

Immediately Dee applied pressure around the subject’s form.

 Patton screamed and Virgil was unable to go any further. “Stop! His name is Patton! His name is Patton!”

“Good.” Dee praised, allowing Subject P to breathe. He didn’t actually care about the name so much as the cooperation. It was important to assert dominance early for the best results. Thankfully, subjects that could speak and understand him made the process speed by rapidly.

“Tell me about yourself.” Dee looked comfortable, almost lazily resting his cheek on his free hand while he maintained eye contact with Subject V.

 Patton breathed heavily, still trying to get air back into his lungs. Virgil gulped, knowing he had to go along with things lest Patton gets hurt again. “...What do you want to know?”

“How were you discovered?” The dean asked, twirling Subject P slowly in his grasp. These creatures were quite delightful.

 Patton yelped, shivering as he was manhandled. 

 Virgil winced as he watched this. “Um...I was found by Logan in his apartment after I tried to get some supplies and Patton was found by Roman in his apartment after trying to watch a movie.” Virgil answered, hating every word that came out of his mouth.

“Do you truly live in the walls?” Dee asked, remembering the stories of his childhood. “And take things back into your little nests?”

 “...Yes. We take things back to our homes.” He didn’t like Dee referring to them as nests. But, then again, Virgil didn’t like anything about Dee.

“What sorts of trinkets does your kind collect?” The dean prompted, leaning forwards. He had always pictured them similar to crow’s nests, especially after all his shiny jewelry had gone missing in high school.

 Virgil, in turn, leaned back. “Just p-practical things. Like paper clips or tin foil. Things we can use and make into other things.” Virgil kept glancing at Patton, making sure he was mostly all right.

“How many of you are there to each nest?” Dee began to try and do the math. “How many nests to a building?”

 Virgil sighed. “It all depends but we live on our own. With there only being two of us in the entire building.”

“Pity.” Dee looked almost disappointed for a moment. He paused the twirling of Subject P, allowing the silence to stew before he came to his most important question. “Where can I find more of you?”

 Virgil smirked, knowing this was a question he could answer honestly but still give nothing away. “I have no idea.” Screw you.

Dee frowned, applying only a minimal amount of pressure to Subject P.

 Virgil’s smirk dropped and his eyes widened. “Stop! I’m telling the truth!”

“I have no reason to believe you.” Dee’s gaze hardened, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “One of the most basic carnal abilities is that of finding fellow members of its species.”

 “Maybe for animals but we’ve learned a long time ago, it’s easier and safer to be as far away as possible. So, sorry but I have no idea where any more of us are.” Virgil crossed his arms. “And I wouldn’t risk Patton being hurt by lying.”

“Then perhaps you should stop doing so,” Dee growled.

 “I’m not,” Virgil growled back. Patton spoke up for the first time in a while. 

 “He-He’s telling the truth…” He tried.

“Hmm?” Dee turned back to the one in his hand, looking intrigued. He loosened his hand just enough to let it speak.

 “We’re...In human terms, we’re loners. We have to be. If there were a lot of us in the building, people could find us more easily. And borrowers don’t usually communicate with each other outside of our own building.” Patton tried to explain, hoping Dee would see it was true.

“Interesting.” Dee brought Subject P up higher, examining him further now that he was willing to cooperate. Borrowers, hmm? Of course, Dee still had to develop a more scientific title for these creatures. “Tell me more.” 

***

Thomas was trying not to panic, searching throughout every hall of the school twice for any sign of his borrower friends. He looked under lockers, behind tables, and even into the vents. After a while, all the other students had filtered out to go home, but Thomas was nearly in tears as he continued to search.

“Patton?” Thomas called out quietly, ducking into classroom after classroom. “Virgil?”

He stood in the darkening room, feeling the wave of anxiety threatening to overwhelm him. He clenched his fists at his sides, now allowing the tears to fall. He was so stupid. How could he have put them in danger like this? What if someone else had spotted them, or taken them, or...or…

Thomas sobbed openly into his palms, picturing all the horrible things that could be happening to his friends. Roman was right, Patton never should have come back to school. 

Roman….”Roman!” Thomas said in realization, quickly attempting to wipe his face clear. He pulled out his phone, praying that Roman would pick up. The phone seemed to ring for an eternity.

R: Yes, what is it?

Thomas could have cried in relief when Roman answered, although based on the background noise it seemed they had found the rat.

“R-Roman!” Thomas’ voice still shook slightly, having not fully recovered from crying his eyes out moments ago.

R: Thomas?  (Roman immediately sounded concerned.) What’s wrong?

“It’s- it’s Patton and Virgil!” Thomas hurried to explain. “They’re missing!”

R: WHAT?!

There was a frantic squeaking on the other end, before an out of breath could be faintly heard in the background.

L: Roman, whatever is the matter?

R: The borrowers are missing! Wha-? Hey!

Instantly Logan’s voice sounded much louder, coming over to take the phone.

L: Thomas, what happened?

“I- someone ran into me in the hall, and…” Thomas hiccuped slightly, overwhelmed. “And my bag was knocked out of my arms, and then when I picked it back up they weren’t in there, a-and I can’t find them anywhere!”

L: Stay right there. Stay calm. We will be there shortly. 

“I’m so sorr-” Thomas tried to apologize, but Logan shut off the phone before Thomas could finish. 

***

“I knew this was a terrible idea.” Roman cursed, pulling on his coat already. “I’ll drive.”

“Good.” Logan pulled on his own coat, the two dashing down the stairs. Logan disposed of the rat on their way out, jumping into Roman’s car. 

As they went, Roman’s fingers tapped nervously on the steering wheel. His foot felt permanently glued to the floor as he practically sped through every yellow light, and more than once did Logan have to remind him to slow down.

Of course, both humans were equally worried. They sprinted into the school building, and only at the threshold did Logan put an arm out to slow Roman down.

“What gives?” Roman said indignantly, ready to push back.

“Virgil and Patton are missing.” Logan reminded him, eyes firm. “We have to be careful where we step.”

Roman paled, catching what Logan was implying. “...right.” He gave a determined nod, slowly pushing the door open. 

Thomas was already waiting just inside, his eyes still rimmed with red and puffy.

“Where did it happen?” Logan asked, walking with a purpose but eyes constantly on the floor.

“Over here.” Thomas led them through the halls to the scene of the crime.

“Can you walk us through exactly what happened?” Roman pressed, while Logan had already begun to pace the hallway like a regular Sherlock Holmes.

“Well, ah..” Thomas counted the floor tiles trying to figure out where he was. “I think I was standing here, and the hall was jam-packed with people. And then Remy ran into me, and the bag fell somewhere over there…” Logan began to inspect the area where Thomas pointed.

“And then what?” Roman prompted, trying to picture the scene in his mind theatre.

“Uh, I tried to take my bag back, but Remy kept trying to pull me to class so it took a couple moments.” Thomas winced at the memory. “And then I came over here…”

Thomas and Logan went to inspect the indicated location, but Roman’s eyes traveled elsewhere. He frowned, squinting as a figure appeared at the end of the hall only to quickly backtrack the other way. That was...odd. Roman dashed down the hall, anxious to get another look.

“Remy?” Roman’s voice caused the Starbucks lover to wince, turning around slowly to face him.

“Heh, hey Roman.” Remy quickly fell back into his laid back manner of speaking. “What’re you guys doing here? I thought I was the only one who came to late-night coffee hour.”

“Thomas...lost his phone earlier.” Roman chose his words carefully, remembering that Thomas had mentioned Remy was at the scene of the crime. “We think somebody took it.”

Remy’s face fell for only a moment before he pushed his sunglasses back up, making his expression unreadable. “Well, that’s a shame.”

“I think you know who did it.” Roman murmured, taking a step forward. Remy took a step back in fear. Of course, this only made him appear more guilty. Roman knew how to spot a terrible actor.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re-” Remy’s sentence was cut off as Roman grabbed the front edges of his leather jacket and swung him into the lockers with a loud bang. Immediately the noise alerted Thomas and Logan who came running around the corner.

“Roman!” Thomas cried out, shocked at the scene before him. “What are you doing?”

“What do you know?” Roman growled, glaring daggers at Remy.

“I-it’s not my fault!”  Remy’s sunglasses had been knocked to the ground, causing him to stare wide-eyed as his gaze darted between the three students. “Ah screw it, all the pumpkin spice in the world isn’t worth this. Professor Dee promised me a Starbucks gift card if I tussled Thomas up a bit.”  

“Oh, no.” Logan’s face looked whiter than a sheet. 

If one were to look at Thomas, they would see he wasn’t faring much better. “Remy, how could you…” He spoke softly, disappointed.

Roman’s grip on Remy faltered, also paling at this development, but Roman stood his ground. “Where is he now!”

“I don’t know!” Remy squeezed his eyes shut, turning to the side as though Roman was going to punch him. “He already paid me, gurl, the deal’s over.”

“Let him go, Roman,” Logan instructed.

“But...” Roman looked back and forth between Logan and Remy, unsure. This was their only lead.

“I believe I know where Dee is,” Logan explained, having worked with the professor before. 

Roman slowly released Remy’s jacket, and immediately the teen tore out of there like a roadrunner on caffeine.

“ByeThomasHopeYouFindYourPhone!” Remy’s goodbye was so fast that Thomas almost thought he missed it entirely.

“If he thinks I’m gonna keep bringing him the homework, he can forget it.” Thomas muttered, crossing his arms.

“Where’s Dee?” Roman asked, turning his full attention to Logan. “His office?”

“No, that’s too conspicuous for what he has planned.” Logan felt his fists clenching at his sides, remembering Dee’s words from not so long ago:

I wonder if their screams would be muted due to the size of their vocal pipes. I’d hope not, it’d be a lot harder to test their pain tolerance.

Logan grit his teeth, leading Roman and Thomas down into the basement stairs. He passed by the many laboratories, set on his destination.

“It’s cold down here.” Thomas shivered, pulling his arms close.

“I must say, I have never been to this part of the building.” Roman looked into a few windows as they passed by, spotting what looked to be a rotting animal carcass at one station. He shuddered, facing forwards once more. Though this was his first time, it wasn’t exactly an honor to be here.

“This wing is mostly for graduate research,” Logan explained. He spotted the familiar door, marking Dee’s private study. With a determined look, Logan pounded on its hard metal surface.

[loremonster]

To The Nonnie Requesting Friendship Advice

...

Punch ‘em in the face and be done with it-- this kid is being a manipulative assha--

Dee! What the hell are you doing?!

Uuuuh... givin’ advice? Like the kid asked for? 

Well then, you’re giving shitty advice. 

Oh whatever. Fine, do it your way, but at least give people a read-more before you go into wall-of-text mode. 

Hello, my gray-faced friend. I’m glad you reached out for advice, but I do want to preface any words of wisdom I may pass onto you with this; I am not currently in your situation. I do not know what biases your explanation contains, I do not know your friend’s side of the story, and I have no idea the context of actions taken by any of the involved parties. Anything I tell you is going to be colored by my life experience. I’ll try to suss out my own biases as much as I can, but no human is capable of doing so completely. I am not a professional. I am not a councilor, nor a psychologist, or even a social worker. I am a person on the web... that said, I appear to be a person on the web who you see as trustworthy, so I shall value that trust and do the best I can. 

Before we dig into your friend, however, I’d like to dig into you. I find it interesting that you recognize that your friend deals with both anxiety and depression without qualification, but when it comes to the fact that they’re trans you felt the need to add about four or five sentences of ‘I don’t get it but I’m still totally an ally’, followed by ‘But they’re doing things I recognize as female-coded so I think they’re digging their own grave’. Clothes and make-up are not feminine. They are coded feminine by the world around us. Often when one is struggling with themselves and their lives, particularly when they were born biosex female and encouraged towards that gender performance their whole lives thus far, one of the things that makes a hard day a little better is self-expression and making the effort to feel attractive-- and society doesn’t have a lot of socially acceptable ways for males to do that. You’ve pointed out that your friend is engaging in ‘feminine’ behaviors and then complaining of dysphoria, but part of those behaviors being viewed as feminine is that everyone keeps reinforcing the known status quo. This is less for this specific situation and more for general allyship, but please try to remove the idea that clothing and make-up are gendered things. They’re not, and they only continue to be that way in the mass consciousness because people who are not harmed by that gendering choose not to think about it. 

Moving on,

A great deal of the behavior you’ve described is of someone who his manipulating those around them. I’m going to make a few base assumptions about you and your friends, including your problem friend-- that you’re all somewhere between the ages of 15 and 25, that your ‘friend’ doesn’t have the best home life on the planet, and you yourself are a highly empathetic person who often makes friends with troubled individuals. Working on these base assumptions, let’s parse out your ‘friend’s’ behavior. 

The fact that they constantly dump on you, but don’t really listen or engage when you need someone to vent to, is an inequality in the friendship. It’s one thing to understand that they’re having a bad day with depression or anxiety, but its entirely another to never allow one party in a friendship seek relief because the other is always too wound up to be supportive. That’s unhealthy, and unfair, and something you may want to talk to him about if you decide this is something you want to attempt to fix. That’s a hard fucking conversation, and it’s not just one conversation. It’s many. It starts with “Hey, can we talk? I feel like I’m doing a lot to support you a lot of the time, but when I need someone you’re not really there for me.” It’s hard, but its important to be open, be honest, and have a real discussion about what they’re doing to you without invalidating your own feelings. Don’t let them equivocate, and if he responds with anything along the lines of “Oh, I guess I’m just a terrible asshole who shouldn’t talk to anyone again ever” THAT IS A MASSIVE RED FLAG, DO NOT TRY TO WALK THAT SHIT BACK, THAT IS A MANIPULATIVE TACTIC TO MAKE YOU APOLOGIZE WHEN HE WAS THE ONE WHO WRONGED YOU. Any shit like that, do not let your ‘holy shit I can’t believe I made him feel that way’ instinct kick in-- physically walk away. I mean it. Get up, say nothing, walk away. It hurts, it’s hard, but a real conversation about your imbalance issues can’t take place with that kind of BS going on. 

This is the point where I’m going to tell you exactly what you don’t want to hear. You can’t fix him. I know you want to help, I know you want to make his life better, you want to be that positive person who never gave up on him so when his life gets better he will always remember you as the supportive friend who never gave up-- forget that. That kind of determination is what allows empathetic people to be ripped apart by others, and that kind of over-investment can cause you to insert yourself too far into their lives and make both you and them feel like the world would fall apart if you weren’t friends. That is unhealthy, for both of you. 

You’ve also mentioned he does shitty things, as well as attention-seeking behavior, and pulls away from the group when called out on being shitty. First I would question what ‘calling out’ means-- if you are quite literally going after him in a public setting, I can understand why he’d pull away and be like ‘fuck y’all’, but, if you are taking him aside in a more personal manner and going “Hey, dude, that thing you did back there? That was hurtful to [person x]” or “Man, I don’t wanna put you on the spot but [thing y] was just a not cool thing to do/say.” When it’s just one person, not the whole group, taking you off to the side and being kind but firm about a correction, it can go a long way to helping someone with anxiety figure their shit out... which is what I feel like your friend is doing right now-- figuring himself out. The sense I get is that your friend is a younger person who may be somewhat socially inept, but has held fast to that idea as part of themselves rather than recognizing it as a lacking skill they can practice. They might have grown up in a house where manipulation was the key way family members got each other to do things, or perchance lacking in specific role models from whom he would have learned these social behaviors from. You can help teach him how to be a better friend, but only if he wants to learn, and a big part of learning how to be a better human is admitting you’ve been a shitty one, and that’s not a fun time for anyone. He will get upset. He will get butthurt. He will feel like everyone is against him and he’s losing control of his life-- just like if someone came up to you and told you you’ve been doing it wrong for years and you’ve got to change everything you’ve ever known until now. 

All of this said, let’s circle back to that mention of red flags and manipulation-- because I get the feeling that you’re a younger individual as well. You might even still be in middle or high school. If you are, I’m about to tell you something else you probably don’t want to hear.

Most of your friends are probably abusive to you. This is simply a fact of making friends within school-- your choice of whom you associate with is limited by your school, your grade level, who you share classes with, who you share clubs with, who you’re aware of and how you’re aware of them. Particularly if you’re in a small town, your choices for friends might be pretty slim, but because humans are social animals we’re programmed to simply overlook certain flaws to gain our needed social contact. Usually the unhealthiness of these seminal relationships happen in smaller ways-- a friend who isn’t great at listening, a buddy you only do certain activities with because you can’t stand them outside that context, someone who was great to talk to that one time but turns out to have the shittiest world view and constantly smack-talks everything you believe in... but when someone is being outright abusive in the worst ways, such as trying to isolate you from your other connections, manipulating you into staying when you really don’t want to be part of this shit anymore, making you fear what they might do to harm themselves should you end the friendship, and constantly bringing up how much they need you, but never ever once recognizing that you might need them from time to time... these are ways in which young relationships are unhealthy enough to do real damage to you, and you have the right to walk away. You have the right to cut toxic people out of your life. 

This process is not easy. It is not fun. It will be one of the hardest things you ever do socially if you decide to do it, but it can be one of the best things you’ve ever done for yourself. It will hurt like hell as you’re doing it, but you will be looking out for your own mental and social health. 

At the same time, if you don’t feel your ‘friend’ isn’t being outright abusive to you, and you still care enough to try and help, see if there’s a councilor you can meet with to discuss some of the issues you’re having. If you’re in school, still, there are often resources open to students experiencing social troubles. If not, many communities do have services available for not as much as you’d think. Look for a councilor or social worker specializing in personal relationships, and if you find someone who you trust, see if you can get your friend to go with you to talk to them in a group session. The councilor can act as a mediator, a calm and neutral third party, to get the conversation going and prevent butthurt tantrums from derailing the discussion that really needs to be had. 

Try to foster understanding with your other friends if you’re going to try and stick with this person. Discuss with them some of your fears, and see what their take is on your specific situation with this friend. Getting the thoughts of other observers can put your own experiences into better perspective, and those friends can support you if you decide to walk away from this friendship and let this guy continue on his own path without you. 

Please, remember, you always have the right to walk away. It is not your job to fix this person. If they are making you responsible for their happiness, they are not controlling their own life, and that is unhealthy for both of you. 

You have the right to walk away.

Ooooooor...?

OR you can punch ‘em in the face... but I really don’t recommend that course of action. 

I hope this helped, friend, and I wish you the best of luck. 

[terrifyingrenegadelibrary]

Volume 2, Chapter 2

Monopoly and the Long Game

Dee: Someone’s in the kitchen with Dinah. Really? Nothing?

Morgan: That song is older than all of us combined.

Dee: I know it.

Holly: I sort of got it, but not until right before I saw you.

Dee: Still!

Evan: Okay, ladies, we’re all getting very off-topic here.

-he presses the knife into Dee’s throat, and she stops talking-

Morgan: Evan, what are you doing?

Evan: Holding a friend of yours hostage for her god’s good behavior while Zaresi figures out how to use my ritual to kill them? I sort of thought that was obvious.

Morgan: What happened to no unnecessary killing?

Evan: Who told you that? Was it Laura? Did she find you already?

-he laughs-

Evan: Was it the happy reunion she was hoping for? I bet it wasn’t. Did you kill her, Morgan? Huh? Didja?

Morgan: No!

Evan: Hmph. I guess I have to go find her, then.

Holly: You know, I can do to you what I did to her.

Evan: Can you? Does that mean you’re a Magician now?

-his eyes narrow-

Evan: A Witch? Faker.

-he giggles a little-

Evan: Well? Going to do something? If you’re such a Magician, why don’t you attack me?

-Holly pauses-

Evan: Oh, right! It’s because I’ll slit Marian’s throat here if you try.

Holly: That’s a rather dated reference.

Evan: Well, turnabout’s fair play. Hey, Madame Librarian, you seem to know a lot, how do you say “Please don’t kill me” in…oh, let’s say, Serbian?

Dee: Um, actually, it’s—

Evan: Rhetorical. Be quiet.

-Dee shrugs-

Morgan: What do you want, Evan?

Evan: What does anyone want?

-he grins wickedly-

Evan: Nah, see, you’re thinking this is the kind of hostage situation where I want something out of it. I’m just waiting for Zaresi to figure things out, and then none of you will have any magic and I can go my merry way. So tell me, Morgan, did Laura give you the “I don’t want to hurt you” speech?

-Morgan winces-

Evan: I’ll take that as a yes. But see…I definitely want to hurt you. Badly. So once Tirali’s dead, I’m going to kill your sister, make you watch, and then kill you. Cool?

-Morgan summons a textbook-

Evan: Really? Is nobody noticing the knife here? Marian, all this callous disregard for your life must be terribly upsetting.

-Morgan grits her teeth, but dismisses the book-

Evan: Better!

Holly: Dee, do you have any rituals you could use without Evan noticing?

-Dee raises an eyebrow-

Holly: Right. You’d have used them.

Evan: Are you seriously planning your dramatic escape directly in front of me?

Morgan: Is there anything you can do about it? If you kill Dee, Tirali doesn’t have any reason not to fight back against Zaresi.

Evan: Like they could do anything.

-still, he doesn’t kill her-

-he taps his foot irritably-

Morgan: Getting bored?

Evan: Unimaginably.

-he turns off to the side-

Evan: Hey! Zaresi, are you almost—

Morgan: Distraction.

-and a book sends him flying across the room. Dee exhales with some relief. Evan whips himself to his feet, looking murderous-

Evan: You little—

Holly: Elucidate!

Dee: Eyewitness!

-the two rituals go off. Evan is shrouded in gray magic, and as it clears, he looks utterly befuddled-

Evan: fgsoep wkewk owi iwej ksls iaoqm nsn…

-Dee and Holly look at each other curiously-

Dee: What did yours do?

Holly: Temporarily forced his brain to track the movements of a couple electrons. I think he might be overloaded.

Dee: Ooh, bad combo with mine. I gave him compound vision.

-the two look at Evan, who still seems insensate-

Dee: So, um…you probably don’t have enough processing power to actually understand me right now, but the words you might be looking for are “Nemojte me ubiti.”

-a glowing eye forms in Dee’s palm. Evan stares sightlessly up at it-

-there’s then a scream from the other room-

-a loud hiss-

-and Dee’s eye disappears-

-there’s a stunned silence, broken only by Evan’s babbling-

Morgan: Oh no.

Holly: What? What just happened?

Morgan: Tirali’s dead! Our Contracts just got broken! We have to—

-and Zaresi appears behind them. She’s in a sized-down form, but the power billowing off her is enough to force Morgan and Holly to take a step back-

Zaresi: Too late.

-Morgan gulps-

Zaresi: Morgan. Holly. Good to see you again. Dinah, good to meet you.

-Dee glares at Zaresi-

Zaresi: Would you be interested in joining my ranks? We could use a Magician of your caliber.

Dee: Well, if they call off my interview in Hell on account of snow, I’ll consider it.

-she takes a pen from her pocket-

Dee: You may have killed my Contractor, but that doesn’t stop my rituals from working! Electric Company!

-Knowledge magic starts to build up around the pen-

Zaresi: No.

-Zaresi flicks out a hand, and the pen explodes with Death magic. Dee yelps and drops it-

Zaresi: None of that.

-Holly reaches into her pocket, and Zaresi’s attention flicks to her. A scythe suddenly forms at her throat-

Morgan: Leave her alone!

Zaresi: And why should I do that? Our Contract is voided. I owe you nothing.

-she tilts her head-

Zaresi: Unless, of course, you are interested in returning to my service, once again in exchange for your sister’s life?

Morgan: I—

Holly: Don’t you dare, Morgan.

Zaresi: Very well.

-she waves a hand, and a pulse of Death magic ripples over the three. Knowledge magic drains away from Holly and Dee’s various rituals and is burnt to nothing, and Evan suddenly recovers his senses-

Zaresi: I will leave you in Evan’s capable hands, then. If you will excuse me, I have a town to finish subjugating.

-she leaves the room, growing in size as she does, and the three turn around to see Evan picking himself up-

Evan: Hello again! Where were we?

-he draws his knife-

Evan: Right. I was killing the three of you.

Dee: That wasn’t where we were.

Evan: Fair point. It’s where we are, though. So, anyone volunteering to go first?

-he points his knife between the three, who back off-

Evan: Unbelievable. I have to do everything myself.

-he starts moving the knife between them-

Evan: Eeny, meanie, miney, Necrosyr—

-something flashes out of a ceiling vent and slams into Evan, sending him sprawling, before straightening up, revealing itself to be a humanoid figure, sans torso or head-

Dee: Wait a second. You’re—

-Evan leaps to his feet, grabbing his knife again-

Evan: Hey! No fifth wheels! This is strictly a four-person murder!

Figure: Sounds boring.

-it taps a finger against Evan’s chest, and a burst of electric blue magic sends him flying-

Figure: Hey, you two. Time to go.

Dee: Two?

-the figure tilts its body at Dee-

Figure: …Huh. I wasn’t told about you. Oh well, come along!

-it grabs the three, and there’s a rush of electric blue. The three are gone, leaving Evan alone-

Evan: …Damn it.

-he slams his knife into a table-

-cut to blackness. The figure reappears, towing the three-

Morgan: Where are we?

Holly: Who are you?

Dee: What’s going on?

Figure: Well, I can’t really answer the second one, not really knowing myself. I’m only a Spirit, after all.

-a light appears in the distance-

Figure: As for the first and third, however, welcome to my goddess’s domain!

-a series of lights flicker on, and reveal…-

Holly: Your goddess’s domain is a parking lot?

Morgan: Wait a minute.

Dee: Oh, yeah, we have a Parking Contractor here. Always thought she was kind of weird. Didn’t know she had any Spirits, but I suppose that explains the mysterious new Spirit wandering around.

Morgan: …You have a goddess of Parking?

Dee: Contractor. Why?

Morgan: …We had one too.

-a blue light approaches from offscreen-

???: The sisters, I presume?

-pan-

Novju: We have a lot to discuss.

-Morgan and Holly stare. Dee waves-

Novju: Oh, um. Dinah, isn’t it? What brings you here?

Dee: Your Spirit. And call me Dee; everyone does.

Novju: Really?

-she turns to the Spirit-

Spirit: She was with Morgan and Holly. It didn’t seem right to just let Evan kill her too.

Novju: Evan was there?

Dee: Zaresi too. Tirali’s dead. Xenn’s probably dead. When did you get a Spirit?

Novju: Quite recently, actually. I—

Morgan: Hold it!

-everyone turns to Morgan-

Novju: Yes?

Morgan: You’re dead.

Dee: Well, that’s not very poli—

Morgan: No, I mean, you’re dead. I saw you die, Novju.

Spirit: Wait, what?

Holly: No, it’s true. I mean, she told me it was true.

Dee: Wouldn’t that make you only a secondary source?

Holly: Yeah, but you’re a ternary source.

-Dee raises an eyebrow and points at Novju-

Holly: ...That’s irrelevant.

Novju: Let’s take a vote. Who here thinks I’m dead?

-Morgan and Holly raise their hands. The Spirit, Dee, and Novju herself don’t-

Novju: Looks like you’re outvoted.

Morgan: But…how?

Novju: Excellent segue. Have a seat.

-she waves a hand, and four mounds form out of the ground. Everyone sits down in front of her. Novju herself pulls herself into criss-cross applesauce, floating a few feet above the ground-

Novju: First off, I’m a tulpa.

-Morgan leaps to her feet. There’s a whisper of electric blue, and she’s sitting down again-

Novju: None of that! Time is limited, and we’ve wasted enough of it trying to determine whether or not I’m dead.

-she huffs-

Novju: First of all, when I say that I’m a tulpa, I mean that what you are seeing right now, and what you saw in your hometown, Morgan and Holly, was also a tulpa. A very, very complex tulpa, made using a ritual I’ve been perfecting over…oh, 5000 years or so?

Morgan: Wait, what? That would make you—

Novju: About 5000, yes. Now, with respect to Tirali—

-she inclines her head slightly in Dee’s direction-

Novju: I’ll attempt to forestall the obvious questions here. I don’t always look the same, and I don’t always lay a claim to the same domain. I’ve gone by Organization, Real Estate, Location, and more, and what it adds up to is me being the Goddess of Space in almost every city of every country in the world.

Dee: …Contractor.

Novju: Aren’t you brave?

Morgan: That has to be against the Convocation.

Novju: As a matter of fact, it’s not against the Convocation, which one of my several identities was involved in creating. Since I make no effort to attain any power beyond what I’ve skimmed away over my many lifetimes, and since my Domains are so uninspiring, nobody has ever bothered challenging me for my post. Somewhat ironically, I do my best to avoid taking up space in the world. I’ve never recruited Magicians, and this is the first Spirit I’ve ever felt the need to have in my service. In fairness, of course, I would call this an extreme situation.

-she gestures to the Spirit-

Novju: This…Poltergeist? Does that seem like a good name?

Morgan: I like it.

Poltergeist: I don’t.

Dee: Eh.

Holly: Is this the time?

Novju: This Poltergeist is the remains of one of the Magicians of your town.

-there’s a beat-

-Morgan flashes back through things that have happened, most notably Quinn’s death-

Morgan: …I know who you are.

Poltergeist: …Um.

Morgan: Qu—

Novju: No!

Morgan: What? But I--

Novju: It’s a new Spirit, and one formed under particularly unpleasant circumstances. Its memory is going to be spotty at best. It’s not going to know about itself, and if you try and remind it, it’ll only pollute what’s really there with what you think should be.

Morgan: She’s my friend! I—

Novju: Was that the only Magician who died there?

Morgan: …

Novju: What if this is Richard? Or Janice, or one of Nalis’s other people? If you fill its brain up with how it’s Quinn, it won’t be pretty. Trust me.

Morgan: I—

Novju: Drop it.

-Morgan slumps. The Poltergeist awkwardly pats her-

Morgan: I just thought…

-Novju’s expression becomes more sympathetic-

Novju: You thought you would get to see someone you knew again. I understand. But you can’t rush the formation of a Spirit, or it might never recover its original memories. Best to leave it alone for now.

-everyone looks between each other-

Morgan: ….Okay.

Novju: Excellent. Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve rescued you.

Morgan: I kind of thought it was out of the goodness of your heart.

Novju: Maybe a little, but you also happen to be useful to me. See, the me from your hometown wasn’t aware enough of what happened to her to be of use, and of course my Poltergeist has no memories. Consequently, I’m going to need you to tell me exactly what happened.

Morgan: …Oh.

Novju: Please.

Morgan: Well, um…I worked for Zaresi, but she was secretly setting up some sort of ritual. So she absorbed the life of the entire town, and now she’s trying to conquer the world one city at a time.

Novju: …I see.

Holly: For what it’s worth, I had a hard time believing it too.

Novju: That’s not the issue. This simply requires a proportionate response.

Morgan: Meaning?

Novju: Meaning it’s time for a family reunion.

-Novju flicks a hand, and a watch forms out of nothing. She checks it-

Novju: Hmm. So, my proper form, who has been touring England, has already begun the recall of her many selves. I am currently 857th on the list, giving us approximately…32 minutes.

Holly: What?

-Holly appears to be doing math in her head-

Novju: I’ll teleport the four of you out of town before I go, don’t worry.

Morgan: Hang on.

Novju: Huh?

Morgan: What happens then?

Novju: Um… well, you go somewhere safe, I pull myself together, give Zaresi a personal lesson in her Domain, and…well. I’ll probably have a lot of explaining to do after that, but I’ll deal with that when the time comes.

-she shrugs-

Novju: Is that a problem?

Morgan: I want to help you!

-Holly and Dee stare. The Poltergeist tilts its body in a way that would suggest the same if it had a face-

-Novju bursts out laughing-

Novju: Help me? Really? I think you’re underestimating the amount of power we’re talking about here.

Morgan: But—

Novju: I’ve been skimming off the entire planet for five millennia, and Zaresi has the entire magic supply of a small town. Do you know how much magic a single human life contains?

Dee: Well, attempts to scientifically measure magical output have been limited in scope for obvious reasons, but there are a few obscure SI units, and the average output of a single human life has generally been considered—

Novju: The answer is a lot.

Dee: Yeah, that.

Novju: Any human Magician would be hopelessly out of their league. You’d burn out in moments trying to keep up.

Holly: Well, that sounds like that settles it.

Morgan: There has to be something we can do!

-Novju stops laughing-

Novju: There isn’t. This is beyond you. Just go. And take the Poltergeist with you, I think it’s taken a shine to you.

-Morgan turns to see the Poltergeist leaning over towards her-

Morgan: …You want me to travel with someone who is almost certainly my dead best friend, but I can’t acknowledge that in any way?

Dee: Aw, don’t be like that. It seems sweet.

-the Poltergeist hops over-

Morgan: What’s with the sudden attachment?

Holly: Do you suppose Spirits imprint?

Dee: Not that I’ve heard.

Poltergeist: I dunno. You seem stressed. I’m guessing you could use a friendly face. So to speak.

Morgan: …Seriously?

Poltergeist: And standoffish, too. But I’m sure you’ll get better about that.

Morgan: So, what? You’re going to haunt me into a better person?

Poltergeist: It’s like peer pressure, but it’s justifiable!

-the Poltergeist slumps over, and its manner becomes more sincere-

Poltergeist: Seriously, though, you think you know who I was? Maybe if I stay around you, I’ll get something back.

Morgan: …Good luck.

Holly: I’m sure you’ll be your old self in no time.

Morgan: So…what? I go off, I forget this happened, and I start a sitcom with my sister, a librarian, and a ghost?

Dee: (aside) I’d watch it.

Poltergeist: (aside) Spirit. Ghosts aren’t real.

Novju: That’s the general idea.

Holly: Is that so bad? You heard… Novju, right? This isn’t a fight we can be a part of anymore. We need to step aside, and let people who know what they’re doing handle this.

Morgan: I know what I’m doing.

Dee: Do you really?

Holly: You’re talking about picking a fight with a god. That’s not a course of action that generally works.

Dee: Contractor.

Holly: Not actually helping my case, Dee.

-she turns back to Morgan-

Holly: I get it. You feel betrayed. you feel like maybe you could have stopped this from happening, you think it’s your responsibility to solve things. But it’s not. At some point, we have to take a back seat.

Dee: That point is now, by the way.

Holly: Dee.

Dee: Just saying.

-the two turn expectantly to Morgan-

Morgan: …Yeah. You’re right.

Holly: Oh, I know.

Novju: Mm-hmm. Very nice. Now, if you’ll all be on your way, I can--

-there’s an explosion-

Novju: Oh dear.

-and the sound of arguing-

Laura: We’re trying to keep a low profile here!

Evan: Oh, please. They’ll just blame it on gas leaks or something.

-and the forces of Death enter the garage-

Novju: …Evening, Zaresi.

Zaresi: Novju. How surprising to see you. You are looking well.

Novju: You’re looking overblown as ever. Still think the “I can’t wash my bedsheets” look is in fashion?

-Evan takes a step forwards, brandishing his knife-

Evan: Speak with respect. I killed you once, I’ll do it again.

Novju: Certainly doesn’t look like you did a good job of it.

-she yawns-

-Evan snarls. Zaresi holds up a hand-

Morgan: You really don’t get any respect, do you?

Iggy: Now you know how I—

Evan, Laura, Morgan, and Holly: Quiet, Iggy.

Dee: Is your name Iggy?

Iggy: Um, actually, it’s—

Dee: Quiet, Iggy.

Iggy: Oh.

-Evan glares at Morgan, but doesn’t do anything-

Novju: What do you want?

Zaresi: To tie up loose ends.

Novju: Oh, Zaresi. As always, you think too small.

-she giggles just a little-

Novju: First, you think a single town is enough for you to challenge the world. The fact that you’re still grubbing around in cities one by one is really only the cherry on top of the absolute mediocrity that got you to this point.

Zaresi: How dare you—

Novju: Second, even with the great power you claim to have, you’re still working on the scale of a handful of Spirits and Magicians. I can think of a lot of ways I could cut your reign short right now, but unlike you I’ve got no interest in killing a whole city just to achieve something.

Zaresi: My goals are—

Novju: Oh, and finally…you really think I’m the only loose end here?

Zaresi: …What?

Novju: It didn’t occur to you to wonder why you couldn’t kill me? I’m a tulpa, Zaresi. The Novju you killed up north, that was a tulpa too. There are thousands of me, all around the world, we’re all linked, and now every single one of us knows what you did.

-she grins-

Novju: You weren’t around when they invented the printing press, but before the information age…let’s just say the rush of a good story never really gets old.

Zaresi: What have you done?

Novju: You have no allies. Anywhere. Not now, not ever. You broke the tenets of the Convocation, and every Spirit you see is going to be out for your blood.

-she gives Zaresi a thumbs-up-

Novju: One town is worth a lot of magic. But so’s a whole world. You wanted conquest, Zaresi? You better get conquering. And of course…I’ll be waiting for you when you do.

Zaresi: …Very well.

-she conjures up a scythe-

Zaresi: I will begin with your form here.

Novju: Might be tough.

-Novju flicks out a hand, and Zaresi vanishes-

Evan: What did you do to her?!

Novju: Sent her elsewhere.

-Evan gets on guard, but Laura steps forwards-

Laura: She can’t do it again, or she’d have done it. We don’t have to fight you, Novju.

Novju: How many times have you said that today, Laura? What kind of choice do you think you’re offering people?

-Laura purses her lips, but magic begins spiraling up from her palms. Evan, meanwhile, steps forwards-

Evan: You made a big mistake sending Lady Zaresi away.

-Novju holds up her hand again, but Evan ignores her, stalking up to Morgan and pointing his knife at her. She takes a step back-

Novju: Morgan, how many times do I have to tell you to run?

Evan: It’s too late for that. Sagittarius serpentarius!

-the knife glows with black light. Morgan steps out of slicing range, but dozens of spears of Death magic cascade around her, penning her, Holly, Dee, and the Poltergeist in-

Dee: Tell me, do you use rituals for things like that because you’re a weak spellcaster?

-Evan snaps his fingers in Dee’s direction, and more spikes appear. He turns back to Morgan, who glares at him-

Evan: You. Traitor. And you, other Morgan. Marian too. And what the hell, Spirit, you cost me my chance to kill the three of them back in the library, so you’re on my list too. I’m going to cut the four of you into tiny pieces.

-the spears push Morgan closer to him, and he places the knife at her throat-

Evan: I just want you to know…you got into this for your sister? Because I assure you, this ritual hurts a lot more than getting attacked by Dreamedge. Hey, Laura, want to watch?

Laura: No.

Evan: Oh well.

-he grins-

Evan: I don’t need witnesses to enjoy myself.

-throughout this, Novju has been watching impassively, her outline turning more and more hazy-

Novju: Hmm. Good luck with that. Morgan, you said you wanted to help?

Morgan: I do.

Novju: Then help.

-and power flows between the two-

-and Evan is immediately blasted backwards by a stream of electric blue light-

Evan: Nngh!

Dee: Hey, any chance I could get in on that? I’ve done a few studies on Space magic.

Novju: If you insist.

-Dee glows as well, and a small wormhole opens, allowing her, Holly, and the Poltergeist to exit the spear cage-

Novju: Holly? I suppose you want a Contract too?

Holly: I’ve been letting my sister fight my battles for me for too long now, I think.

Novju: An admirable sentiment.

-Holly glows as well-

Novju: Well then! That’s about it for this form, so Evan, tell your dime-store goddess that I’ll see her in… hm, London. Morgan, Dee, Holly, Poltergeist; fight well, and my orders stand. Keep yourselves safe.

-and she twists into a single point in space and vanishes-

Morgan: So, Team Zaresi. Still want that fight?

-the assembled Reapers and Laura eye the four, all of whom are pulsing with Space magic, and back off-

Evan: Argh…cowards!

-and the Reapers flee. Laura stays, but hangs far behind Evan, looking downcast-

Laura: …Evan, come on. These four aren’t important.

-she tries to make eye contact with Morgan, who ignores her-

Laura: We need to find Zaresi, regroup, and move on.

-Evan tilts his head, and then sighs, following Laura. Just before leaving, however, he turns around-

Evan: I want you to understand something. This isn’t over. Even if you never get in our way again…once Zaresi rules the world, I’ll come find you, and I’ll kill you.

-he smiles-

Evan: Just thought you should know.

-and he follows Laura out-

Dee: …Wow. And you said you were friends with him?

Morgan: No.

Holly: Is it just me, or is he getting worse?

Morgan: I can’t imagine killing people and living their entire lives is really making him more stable.

Dee: Seems unlikely.

Poltergeist: What a dick.

Morgan: A common sentiment, yes.

Holly: So, what now? Where do we go?

Morgan: That’s easy. Novju said she’s in London, so I’ll go to London.

Holly: Well, she also said specifically not to try and help because we’d all die. Don’t you think we should do that?

Morgan: No. I got into this to keep people safe. I can’t stand by until I know I’ve done what I can to help.

Holly: …

Morgan: What?

Holly: Did you want this to happen?

Morgan: What?!

Holly: Novju giving us the Contracts? I know you, Morgan. You were looking for an excuse to pick a fight with Zaresi from the start, right?

Morgan: So what if I was?

Holly: I can’t let you do that. There’s nothing we can do at this point.

Morgan: We can try.

Holly: Dee. You seem sensible.

Dee: Thank you for noticing.

Holly: You agree with Novju, right?

Dee: Now that you mention it, no, I don’t.

Holly: What?

Dee: Zaresi killed Tirali. My Contractor, and more to the point my friend. I’d be willing to bet she killed every Contractor and Spirit here. Even if our efforts are token, I quite frankly want revenge. I can understand if you don’t feel similarly, but I have to support Morgan’s plan.

Holly: I—but—

Morgan: Zaresi killed our parents, killed Allen and Jacob, killed Quinn!

-she eyes the Poltergeist, who doesn’t react-

Morgan: We can’t just leave this to other people to fix.

Holly: …Poltergeist?

Poltergeist: I’m going with Morgan.

Holly: …Well. I guess I’m outvoted then. Let’s find an airport.

Morgan: Whoa, wait. You’re not coming.

Holly: What?

Morgan: You’re going to get as far away from here as possible. I’ll give you a call when this is over.

Holly: What? No!

Morgan: I got into this to keep you safe, Holly. I can’t stand to the side, but I’m not going to let you get any more involved in this than you already are.

Holly: You can’t stop me. I’m not going to be shut out again.

Morgan: …Sorry about this.

-a wormhole opens to the motel room. Morgan nudges Holly through it, and closes it-

Morgan: I’ll see you when this is over.

-she looks back to Dee and the Poltergeist-

Poltergeist: …You don’t think that was a little cold?

Morgan: I almost lost her once. It’s not going to happen again.

Dee: Let’s hope you’re right.

Morgan: Now come on. Let’s get to the airport.

-cut to the airport, with the three boarding a plane-

Morgan: You’d think things would go a little faster, the fate of the world being at stake and all.

Dee: Eh.

Poltergeist: You should try being incorporeal.

-it occupies a seat next to the two, not bothering with the seatbelt-

-this makes it very awkward when a portal appears in the same seat, and Holly climbs into the plane, intersecting the Poltergeist-

Poltergeist: ...Um.

Morgan: Holly?!

Holly: Did you really think you could just ditch me?

Dee: I do think that was the plan.

Holly: Come on.

-she parks herself next to Morgan-

Holly: You sent me back to the motel room, and you left some of your books there. So I did a little more research, and I learned how to trace your portal back.

Dee: Oh, impressive. Really, Morgan? You didn’t think to hide them?

Morgan: I…

Holly: I’m your sister, Morgan. That means I’m with you.

-she grabs Morgan’s hand-

Holly: Maybe you got into this to keep me safe, but you can’t leave me out of it anymore.

-she stares at Morgan-

Holly: We’re in this together.

-there’s a long pause. The Poltergeist turns between the two-

Morgan: …I guess there’s no choice left. We’re going to London.