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reidyoulikeabook · 4 years ago

Text

Invisible String

Ship: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: None, this is just fluff.

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: You and Spencer Reid don’t know it, but you’ve almost met quite a few times. What happens when you do?

A/N: This is potentially a bit on the wrong side of the cheesy line, but I was listening to invisible string by Taylor Swift and couldn’t get this idea out of my head. Pls bare in mind I’m from the UK and my only understanding of the US college system is from Google searches, so pls be forgiving of any misunderstandings about that.

November 6th, 2007

Dr. Spencer Reid. As you sat, thumbing through the article he’d written about the formation of ionic compounds in a chemical whose name you could not for the life of you spell or pronounce, you couldn’t help but resent the man.

Sure, the paper was very well-written and as cohesive as possible given the complex subject matter. But Dr. Spencer Reid, whoever he was, was the current source of your resentment at selecting chemistry to make up your science credit. Highlighting the name of a substance you’d have to look up later, you sighed. It was getting late but you had to hand in a critical summary of the paper on Friday.

It didn’t help that Dr. Reid was: a) a triple doctorate holder by the age of 22, or b) that your chemistry lecturer was none other than his old chemistry lecturer from Caltech and practically glowed with pride whenever he got to bring him up.

You chew on the end of your pen, having now distracted yourself from the notes. Not that you were particularly focused anyway.

In another life, maybe you’d have been a budding chemist who could describe an ionic lattice off rote. In this one, however, you’d just have to settle for slogging through the list of chemical processes and hoping you understood it well enough to please Dr. Reid’s biggest fan.

***

April 16th, 2008

Spencer hated flaking on commitments. It caused him a great deal of anxiety, the feeling of disappointing someone. He didn’t have much choice in this circumstance though.

Diana had taken ill over the last weekend. Nothing serious, some stomach bug or other. She’d become severely dehydated though, and had been hospitalised as a precautionary measure. Truth be told, he might not have gone if she hadn’t caught him on the phone. He was already feeling guilty for not having visited since Christmas. He wrote her letters everyday, yet still felt like he was neglecting his duties as a son. Rubbing his hands over his face, he lets out a deep sigh. Then takes out his laptop, to send another email.

Dear. Dr Abraham

I sincerely apologise again for my last minute cancellation. Excluding any unforeseen circumstances, myself and SSA Hotchner will be available to present the lecture on May 12th.

Yours sincerely,

Dr. Spencer Reid.

***

May 12th, 2008

Considering this was your third year on campus, you sure were bad at finding your way around. In your defence, they were doing maintenance in one of the main buildings, meaning that lectures got shuffled around and relocated. You probably had a higher change of attending the right lecture by accident than on purpose.

It doesn’t help that you’re running a little late this morning. You rush into Room 203. A lot of the seats are taken, you have to meander your way past quite a few people until you end up sat almost directly in the middle. Only moments before the lecture starts.

“I’m SSA Hotchner, and this is SSA Reid. We’re members of the BAU which is based at FBI quarters in Quantico. Today, we’ll be talking to you about profiling.”

This is not your forensic linguistics lecture.

Panic hits you, hot in your gut. Scanning the room anxiously, you suddenly become conscious that you’re drawing attention to yourself when you feel the eyes of the man who is not SSA Hotchner on you. Fuck.

There’s no way for you to escape now, not without disturbing half the lecture hall.

So you sit back in your seat, resigning yourself to sit awkwardly in the lecture you’re not supposed to be in and hoping nobody notices.

But then, it’s really interesting, actually. The work that Dr. Reid does sounds similar to work you’ve done in forensic linguistics, analysing patterns of speech and minor phrase formations that can give things away about the perpetrator. By the end of the seminar, you’re sat leaning forward. Enraptured by almost every word coming out of their mouths.

It seems to be the general mood: everyone is enamoured. People are clammering to speak to them at the end. After a brief inner battle, myou decide that you should talk to them too.

What’s the harm?

You’ve decided that you’ll speak to Dr. Reid, since he seems to share more of a field focus. However, as you’re heading down, you spot him. Dr Adams, your chemistry lecturer from last year. Oh shit, it’s that Dr. Reid.

Speaking to SSA Hotchner will just have to do instead.

----

“I’ve been majoring in forensic linguistics and criminal psychology,” You tell him, “Do you think ... I mean, I know it’s a pretty exclusive team to get on to. But is that the kind of thing that could maybe get me there one day?”

Hotchner nods, “Forensic linguistics is something that comes in very useful in the investigative aspects of cases. The FBI is always looking for new angles and perspectives, those are both good subjects to study if you were thinking of signing up to the academy.”

"Thank you, Agent Hotchner,” You say, suddenly a little bashful as you notice the queue of people lingering behind you, “That was a really interesting lecture. It’s definitely something I’ll think about.”

“You should talk to Dr. Reid if you have a particular interest in the linguistic aspect of profiling. He’s more specialised in that area than I am. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to discuss any research you’re conducting at the moment and suggest materials that might be helpful in furthering your understanding of the area.”

“Thank you,” You smile, and he nods at you again.

Stepping away from Agent Hotchner, you look to your right. Dr. Reid is still engaged deeply in conversation with Dr. Adams. You glance at your watch. There was time before your next class, you supposed, so you could wait. It couldn’t hurt to find out more, could it? It wasn‘t like you were getting your hopes up or anything.

It’s then that you feel a pair of arms around your waist, a familiar scent of cologne.

“Hey!” You whip around to see your boyfriend, grinning widely.

“Hey,” You reply, “How’d you find me?”

“I was walking past when I saw you talking to that FBI agent. Seriously, FBI?” He asks, with a disapproving quirk of his eyebrow, “You want to grab a coffee before Psych?”

You want to say no. But he’s got his hand on the small of your back, leading you out of the room before you even get a chance to reply. You glance back over your shoulder, making eye contact with Dr. Reid for all of two seconds before you’re swept away.

“Seriously though babe, FBI?”

Unsurpisingly, you don’t mention your potential change in career path to him.

***

March 8th, 2009

“Come in,” Hotch calls. He looks up from the paperwork on his desk to see Spencer entering the room, clutching a report in his hand.

“That last case we were on. I was doing some more research, just for future reference about linguistic patterns. Have you read this?” He asks, sliding a copy of your paper across the desk.

Hotch gives it a cursary look over, nodding, “Yes. It’s interesting. She’s signed up as an NAT. I believe I actually spoke to her at one of our lectures last year.”

"Her work is really impressive for somebody whose only studied this at a master level.”

Hotch almost smiles, “Yes. That’s exactly why I’ve recommended to the bureau that she signs up for profiling classes. Her work shows a lot of promise. They’re sending over a copy of her completed thesis, if you’d like to read it.”

“Yeah, I’d like that, thank you,” Spencer says, struggling to conceal the smile playing on the corner of his lips.

“I’ll email it to you as soon as I receive it.”

Spencer nods, smiling properly to himself as he leaves the room. It wasn’t unusual, exactly, for him to share new research that was relevant to cases. It was important that they all kept themselves fresh and acquainted with new theories about the field. Hotch, however, didn’t miss the excited way Spencer had presented it to him. Talking about how impressive you were, as if to subtly hint. He thinks it’s quite typical, actually, that Spencer could take such an interest in someone he only knew via an essay.

Although Spencer’s response does get Hotch to send a follow-up email, inquiring about whether you’d agreed to the classes. If Spencer was this impressed with your work, it must be good.

***

June 1st, 2009

The Metro that morning is packed. It doesn’t help that you’ve not been living here long, and don’t exactly know the route from your flat to the station off by heart yet.

You'd also had to make a detour to the post office. Your, firmly ex, boyfriend had mailed over the last of your things. Really, it was good riddance. His hounding you about your choice in job had only worsened. The relationship had been hanging on by a thread long before you’d moved away last month. You were more than a little grateful that it was finally over, that you could draw a line under it all and focus on your career.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t stopped you having a little cry to yourself on the way over.

Rushing, you make it onto the Metro just as the doors are about to close, falling against the railing on the left side. You grip onto it for dear life.

On the other side of the carriage, Spencer notices someone hurrying for the train. He had been buried deep in the paper he's reading, but the bustle had pulled his attention. Your back is to him, and there’s a scarf at your feet. He wants to say something, to try and get your attention, but he can’t from where he is.

“Miss, I think you’ve dropped something,” The woman you’re standing in front of says, gesturing to the scarf pooled at your feet.

You meet her eyes, sniffling slightly, “Thank you.”

Spencer watches as you pick it up, back still to him. Crisis averted, he turns his attention back to what he's reading: the published copy of your thesis Hotch had emailed him last week.

***

September 2nd, 2009

"This is SSA ____, the newest member of our team. She’s recently graduated from the academy and has an excellent knowledge of linguistics that the bureau feels will be a great advantage to this team. She’s had her induction and now will be joining the team on a probationary basis. She’ll be spending a little time with each of you in between cases to make sure she forms well-rounded knowledge of all aspects of what we do.”

It’s a little overwhelming, having everybody’s eyes on you.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Emily is the first over, offering her hand for you to shake.

“You too, it’s really nice to meet all of you,” You say, shaking hands in turn with her, Morgan, Rossi, J.J, and Garcia.

“Hi,” Spencer calls from behind you.

You turn around to face him. You remember what Hotch had mentioned to you about him being a bit of a germaphobe, so you keep your hand by your side.

“Hi,” You say, “Dr. Reid, right?”

“You can call me Spencer,” He says, a little bashful, “I read your thesis, the study about you did about the construction of passive clauses as an indicator of guilt in adolescent offenders. It was fascinating.”

You feel yourself getting a little warm under his gaze, “Thank you. I'm surprised you’re even aware it existed.”

Hotch interrupts then, “Reid, do you want to sit with ____ while she goes over the case file? It’d be useful if you could go over how you’d go about constructing a linguistic profile.”

That’s how you end up spending much of your first day: with Spencer, huddled up over case files as he explains his profile-building process to you. Spencer’s an incredible teacher, you think. He explains his thought process without ever being condescending, leaving little gaps for you to answer.

You’re incredible, Spencer thinks. You seem to grasp exactly what he’s saying, filling in the gaps based on the clues that are actually in front of you, not letting yourself be guided too much by bias.

***

October 29th, 2009

Spencer loves everyone at the BAU. They’re all the family he never had, and he has relatively good friendships with all of them. Just, they aren’t quite the same as they are with you.

He struggles to put his finger on it, exactly. It’s a unique relationship. He shares very familial bonds with a lot of them: he and Morgan are brotherly, Rossi is fatherly, Garcia’s somewhat like an overexcited little sister.

The friendship he has with you is special. You always listen to him, even as he rambles on about inane things that anybody else would tell him to shut up about. In fact, sometimes about the exact things that they do tell him to shut up about. Just last week, he was rambling on about Star Trek when Morgan told him, not altogether unkindly, to “give it a rest, kid.”

“What was that you were saying?” You’d asked, sidling up to him, “I’ve never watched Star Trek but I thought the quote was beam me up Scotty.”

He’d looked at you, considering you for a moment, “You don’t have to-”

“I know. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know Spence. You think I’d ask for a 15 minute lecture on Star Trek if I wasn’t interested in it?”

A warm feeling flooded his chest. The look on your face was so genuine, and you’d perched on the edge of his desk as he gesticulated, getting deep into the lore and how the misconception had come about. He still didn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, until he got to the end of his spiel. And then you asked him a question. You asked him a question to make sure you understood what he was talking about. You were listening the whole time, and you genuinely cared about the point he was making.

It's then that he realises, it was hard to pinpoint because it wasn’t friendship. He likes you. Shit.

***

November 2nd, 2009

You like everybody at the BAU. They’re all quite patient with you, really, happy to walk you through how they do things. Morgan’s taught you quite a bit about the tactical side of things already, and Rossi has been working with you on your interrogation techniques. Emily’s generally just a great mentor, always happy to listen and support however she can. She’s more experienced, but still relatively new to the team too, so you feel like there’s a certain understanding between you.

However, you’d definitely be lying if you said the person you hadn’t learnt the most from, or spent the most time with, was Spencer.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the team, either. You seemed to gravitate towards one another, forever sitting side-by-side on the plane. Sharing a line of thinking that usually led to devolved rambling, and scribbling, until you came up with something coherent.

It isn’t until November 2nd that you realise you have feelings for him.

You’re sitting at your desk, filling out a case report that Emily had promised to go over with you before she left for lunch.

“Hey,” Spencer’s familiar soothing voice comes, as he sidles up to you, “I got you something.”

Looking up, you notice the coffee cup in his right hand, “You are my caffeine lifesaver.”

He hands it to you, smiling a little nervously, “It’s actually not that.”

“Oh?”

His other hand is tucked behind his back, and he pulls it foward towards you, brandishing a red sweatshirt.

“I know you uh, left your red sweater behind at the hotel on the last case. And I know it was your favourite one, and I was shopping yesterday and I saw this and...” He trails off, embarassed, “It’s not the exact same, but it’s the same kind. I just thought you might like it.”

You swallow, hard, “Spencer that’s so sweet. C-Can I hug you?”

He nods. Standing up from your desk, you wrap your arms around his frame.

“That was so thoughtful.”

He squeezes you a little, really leaning into the hug, his face pressing against your shoulder. His tousled hair tickles your nose a little and you smile, clinging onto him, relishing in the feeling of safety and warmth.

It hits you then. When you realise you don’t want to let go. When you realise he makes you feel fuzzy. Loved. Cared for in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. Eventually, you have to let him go, and it’s in a daze that you return to your desk. You’re so concentrated on your overwhelming realisation, you don’t realise how reluctant he is to let you leave his embrace.

***

December 22nd, 2009

Driving Spencer home from the office was really just an excuse to get some time alone with him. You’d said something about the Metro being busy, one of the services being cancelled. He hadn’t factchecked you on that.

The BAU had tentative plans for boxing day, with the caveat being that no emergent cases arrived in the meantime. It was only really four days you wouldn’t see him, but that was longer than you’d ever gone without seeing him in all the time you’d known him. You worked together everyday, and it was unusual for you to go a full weekend without seeing each other. Recently, you’d got into the habit of going out for Sunday brunch together.

Pulling up outside his house, you hear him sigh.

“I know it’s only four days, but I’ll miss you.”

Smiling, you turn to him, “I’ll miss you too.”

Something in you changes then. He’s looking at you. You may be relatively new to profiling but you can see something behind his eyes, feel the charge of unsaid words electrifying the air.

“Can I hug you?” He asks.

“You can always hug me,” You reply, undoing your seatbelt and opening your arms for him.

He embraces you the way he always has: tightly. Like he doesn’t want to let go, couldn’t imagine ever letting you go. His face nuzzles to the crook of your neck, and then you feel his thumb brush your chin. Tilting your head down.

You exchange a look. His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your lips, and back. You nod your head, just slightly.

He kisses you then. Tender. You melt into one another, lips moving quickly as you drink one another in. Kissing each other breathless, your fingers intertwine in his hair and his hand comes up to cup your cheek. Nothing has ever felt so right.

***

June 10th, 2011

Neither of you have ever really believed in fate. It’s hard to - especially in your line of work - to want to interpret the workings of the universe as deliberate. Maybe you’d think a little differently though, if you knew about all the near-misses. All the times you could have met. But fate knew better. She waited until you were ready.

And as you exchange vows, promising each other your forever, you both know you couldn’t possibly deny that this was meant to be.

------

Taglists: @takeyourleap-of-faith @sassiest-politician

(let me know if you would like to be added to/removed from this list!)

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #imagine spencer reid #criminal minds x you #imagine criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagines #pls like this it took me so long

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giyuji · 2 years ago

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୭̥⋆*｡ RULES!

PLEASE READ all rules surrounding interactions, my writing and sending requests before sending any of the above, thank you!

INTERACTING. . .

༄ i write for aged-up characters outside their canon storyline. if this isn't your cup of tea, or if you feel that's not correct, then that's totally valid. except this blog isn't for you, then. simply remove yourself from my blog and go on with your day. unwanted comments will be blocked <3 i don't have time nor want for those.

༄ this blog is not spoiler free. any possible spoilers will be tagged under: #[fandom] manga spoilers. it is up to you to block the tag if you do not wish to see possible spoilers.

༄ please refrain from venting to me about personal things in my ask-box. especially without asking first. also do not bring up things such as politics or religion. i encounter them enough irl, and would like this to be a space free from those topics.

༄ do not call me bitch, slut, whore, etc. if we aren't friends and/or i do not know you. other nicknames such as bestie, babe, love are okay, though.

༄ unless i specifically ask for it; don’t come into my asks breaking down the things you thought could have been better in a fic of mine. i’ve had this once. it’s not fun. i write simply bc i like doing it, it's not a master thesis.

WRITING & REQUESTING. . .

༄ different fics i'm open to writing: headcanons, most to least likely, smaus, drabbles, one-shots, multi-parts & series. note that series and multi-parts cannot be requested. these will only be done if i myself feel like it.

༄ topics i won't [!] write for: male!reader, noncon, incest/pseudo-incest, character x character, any type of physical and/or sexual abuse, suicide, suicidal thoughts, self-harm, eating disorders, nothing in which the reader loses a limb/forced amputation, piss/scat kinks, foot fetishes, pet play, age play, a/b/o related stuff, hybrid-reader, major character death/death of the reader.

༄ when requesting, keep the above boundaries in mind. i will not be explaining why i won't write certain topics, as some of it is related to traumatic experiences. take the boundary at a face value, thank you. (almost) everything except the above, i’m willing to write.

༄ my default reader is female with she/her pronouns. this is because i am a woman with she/her pronouns, and before i write for somebody else, i write for myself. if you request something, please make sure to add whether you want a fem!reader or gn!reader.

༄ remain patient and respectful when requesting. this is still my blog, and i do this for free & bc i find it fun. as soon as im rushed to write, i will no longer find it fun and will lose the motivation to do so. you will only be waiting longer.

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#writing guidelines.#rules.#if you don't follow these and send a request without reading them i'll ignore it #it won't be written & i won't respond to it #overstepping my boundaries multiple times will result in being blocked

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nugnthopkns · 4 years ago

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dance me to the end of love (i)

word count: 4.3k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, potential spoilers for the west wing if you've never seen the show

series masterpost: here

a/n: hi!! i am so incredibly happy to finally be putting this fic out into the world. it means an awful lot to me and i can't wait to share the little world i've created :)) x

Magdalene is content with where she’s ended up.

Denver is wonderful. Her friends are there, her cat is there, and it’s the perfect place for a fresh start. She arrived in the city nearly six years ago – a wide-eyed University of Denver freshman and has stayed put ever since. Her hometown of Aspen holds a few too many bad memories, but is close enough that she can return if an emergency calls for it. So far she hasn’t left, too engrossed in finishing her degree and moving on. There’s a job offer lined up with the university’s library upon graduation that Magdalene is ecstatic about. It means she gets to stay right where she is – where she’s comfortable.

☼☼☼☼

The sun might be shining as she exits her apartment building, but it’s cold for March. Magdalene pulls the thick scarf her best friend Bette got her for Christmas higher up her face and walks as quickly as possible to campus. There’s a brief meeting to attend with her advisor before grabbing lunch with Bette, and then her plan is to spend the rest of the day holed up in the library working on her thesis. It’s due in two weeks, with the defence in just over a month, and Magdalene is incredibly nervous. Though she’d gone through submitting her undergraduate thesis two years ago, presenting her master’s research was going to be a lot harder. She’s heard through the grapevine that the committees are being tough this year and she doesn’t want to fail.

Dr. Williams is waiting for her in his office with a smile on his face. He’s a tall man, with thin facial features and wire glasses that box him perfectly into the intimidating professor stereotype. “Miss Stevenson, please sit,” he gestures to the chair across from him.

“Gerald,” she sighs, “You can call me Magdalene, I don’t mind. Besides, it makes you quite the hypocrite if you insist I call you by your first name but you won’t use mine.” There’s no malice in her voice, just a decent amount of teasing.

The older man scoffs but concedes. “I suppose you’re right. Well then Magdalene, tell me, how are your final edits coming along?”

Magdalene spends nearly twenty minutes detailing all the elements she has tweaked since their last meeting, from the title to the citation style. She’s out of breath by the time she’s done, rambling at an impressive speed, and takes a big gasp of air while the professor mulls over her words. Dr. Williams doesn’t say anything, causing Magdalene to shift anxiously in her seat. “Sir, is there something wrong?”

He shakes his head. “Absolutely nothing,” he beams, “Everything is perfect. It’s a shame you don’t want to continue researching. You’d make a fabulous academic.”

The compliment makes Magdalene’s heart soar. It means a lot, especially coming from the person who has seen her cry over the oxford comma. “Thank you sir, but I belong in the practical realm. Someone has to file all the documents you obsessively scan.”

She leaves the building soon after, promising to stop by after she drops off the final draft in a few weeks. It’s a bit later than she expected and hopes Bette won’t be mad. There’s nothing the blonde hates more than poor time management, but Magdalene prays she’ll understand. It wasn’t that long ago and Bette was scheduling her own appointments with advisors on how to graduate. Barn Owl Book Company is located halfway between the school and her apartment, making it the perfect spot to meet. In addition to being a used book store, Barn Owl sports one of the best cafés in downtown Denver. Bette is perched delicately at her friend’s favourite seat, a bay window converted into a small nook, and typing furiously on her phone.

“Sorry I’m late,” Magdalene apologizes, “Williams talked a lot more than I expected him to.”

Bette looks up and smiles, shoving a cup in the other girl’s direction. “As always. How is he?”

Sliding into the booth, Magdalene fills her friend in on what’s been going on in their former professor’s life. Bette graduated with a minor in Classics, and it was Magdalene's major, but the former decided not to further her education and is instead doing full time charity work for the Colorado Avalanche. Her boyfriend Tyson is one of their star players, and the two of them are so smitten it makes Magdalene sick. Conversation quickly turns from school to life, which she’s grateful for.

“So,” Bette says, “Are you in for the trip this summer? I’ve got to confirm the reservation in a week or something.”

“I don’t know Bee, I'm going to be the new girl. Asking for time off like two months into the job would be rude.”

“Linny,” the blonde whines, “Please? I want you to come.”

Magdalene scowls. Bette knows just how much the nickname sours her mood but she chose to use it anyway. “Don’t call me that,” she snaps with quite a bite. “Can someone else take my spot if I decide not to go a little closer to the date?”

“Of course! Gravy said he’d fill an extra spot if one comes up so we don’t lose the deposit,” Bette blabs before trying to switch gears entirely. Magdalene cuts her off.

“Who’s Gravy?”

If her friend is exasperated by Magdalene’s lack of knowledge surrounding hockey, she doesn’t show it. Bette calmly explains that Gravy, who’s real name is Ryan, is a defenceman with the Avalanche and a good friend of Tyson’s. She also makes a point of mentioning that he’s single, to which Magdalene rolls her eyes. Bette has a masterplan for her life – which includes her best friend becoming romantically involved with an Avalanche player so the two of them can live the better half life together. As the best friend, Magdalene is constantly barraged with potential players who are looking to date. Once she went on a few dates with Mikko, but that ended fairly quickly when the two realized they were better as friends. Every time since she’s turned Bette down as gently as possible, not wanting to get involved with anyone. Her life is just starting, and Magdalene wants to be secure before settling down.

The conversation eventually shifts to what Magdalene plans to wear for both her thesis defence and graduation. Bette is fashion savvy, while Magdalene is decidedly not. Her everyday wardrobe consists of collared button-downs and sweater vests, which is supposedly never going to back a comeback, according to Bette at least. The blonde eventually wears Magdalene down, and secures a position as stylist for the graduation ceremony. There was an attempt at the thesis defence, but the other girl insists she needs to be as comfortable as possible on such a stressful occasion.

A glance to the clock on the opposite wall has Magdalene stretching her arms and giving an apologetic glance to her friend on the other side of the table. “I should go,” she says. “I’ve got to put in some serious work on my citations today, and you know Caligula doesn’t like it when I’m gone all day.”

Bette rolls her eyes, but there isn’t any frustration behind the gesture. “I swear to god Mags, your cat has more separation anxiety than I do. Speaking of, I’m supposed to pick Tyson up at the airport and I’m running behind.”

“Tell him I say hi,” Magdalene says as she wraps her arms around Bette for a quick hug.

The two girls part ways on the sidewalk, with Magdalene heading back to campus and Bette sliding into the sleek Audi she shares with her boyfriend. Headphones find their way into her ears, and Magdalene listens to a random comedy podcast. Once tucked safely inside the library she’ll put on her favourite lo-fi playlist and concentrate, but for now she just enjoys the funny anecdotes of stories past.

It’s quiet in the library for a Tuesday, though Magdalene isn’t complaining. Her favourite table, the one she swears up and down is the only reason she ever gets anything done, is open, and she all but sprints to place her bag on the worn leather chair. While setting up her work station a few of the librarians come over to offer their congratulations for her upcoming job. News certainly travels fast around here, Magdalene thinks, but accepts their generosity with a smile on her face. They leave her alone soon enough and the tedious work of double checking the formatting of every single citation in the sixty-five page paper begins.

Hours pass, and Magdalene stays working in the library until as late as she possibly can. Caligula is going to start to worry about the length of her absence soon and his anxiety response of knocking over plants is not a mess she feels like cleaning up. She packs up her laptop and walks the short distance home as fast as possible.

“Little boots, I’m home,” Magdalene parrots in a sing-song voice as she slips her jacket off her shoulders and onto the hanger. At the sound of his nickname, the small cat bounds into the entryway. “Hi darling, did you miss me?” Magdalene gets an obnoxiously loud purr in response that she takes it as a yes. She reaches down to pick up the tiny animal before continuing further into the apartment, scratching behind his ears as she does so. The two of them settle into the respectably sized couch, where they stay for the rest of the night watching reruns of The West Wing before Magdalene falls asleep.

☼☼☼☼

“You fucking did it!” Bette shrieks as she bounds towards her best friend. Magdalene braces herself for the oncoming assault, and manages to keep them both upright after Bette jumps into her arms.

Her thesis defence had just finished, and the committee found Magdalene a worthy candidate for the Master of Information Science qualification. The presentation itself was open to the public, so Bette and Tyson sat in the front row to support Magdalene, but were escorted out for the conversation that followed. The two girls had developed a code so the news could be shared in a subtle way, though Bette threw the original plan out the window as soon as she saw her friend give a sneaky thumbs up when the conference room door opened.

“Congrats Mags,” Tyson says sincerely, doing his best not to add to the growing spectacle, but Magdalene can tell he wants to give her a bone crushing hug.

“Thank you,” she smiles softly, “And thank you guys for coming. It means a lot.” As two of her closest friends, both Bette and Tyson know that her family situation is rocky at best, and having them act as her support system means more than she’ll ever be able to articulate.

The couple shares a knowing look before engulfing their friend in a hug. “We’re always going to be here for you,” Bette whispers, “No matter what.”

Magdalene’s smile is so genuine it crinkles her eyes as she wraps her arms around Bette and Tyson’s shoulders and leads them out the door and into the sunshine. The group continues to the parking lot, where they climb into Tyson’s car and drive off campus in the direction of Magdalene’s favourite restaurant. Though she had tried to convince her friends they didn’t need to celebrate, she failed, and Magdalene soon finds herself laughing hysterically over a plate of carbonara as Tyson tells a story about the shenanigans the team got up to on their last road trip.

There’s a game tonight, and Bette has somehow convinced her into attending. Magdalene knows she should go, expand her social horizons a little, but all she wants to do is curl up in bed and sleep for three weeks. Her one condition is that she can go home straight after the game without being guilted into following the group to whatever nightclub they’ll celebrate the win or drink away the loss in. Tyson has to get ready so he drops the two girls off at Magdalene's apartment complex. She’s in charge of getting Bette to the rink, and she’ll leave with her boyfriend after the game.

Once inside the confines of her home, Magdalene promptly lies on the floor. “Holy shit,” she sighs, “I did it. I fucking did it.”

“You did!” Bette says as she lies down beside her best friend. “I’m so fucking proud of you, and Tyson is too. Even if he won’t tackle you in public to prove it.”

The comment garners a laugh from Magdalene, which alerts Caligula to the presence of others in the apartment. He pads over the rug currently being occupied by two adults, and snuggles into the small space between them. Bette and Magdalene continue to lay there, petting the cat and looking back fondly on all the times Magdalene called her friend in tears because she didn’t think she could push herself any farther. Bette was always there to pick up the slack, editing whatever section Magdalene was working on or to bring over a hot meal. Her support earned her the top spot in the acknowledgements section of the thesis.

Ball Arena is already crawling with people when Magdalene pulls into the small lot for player’s and their families. Normally she parks with the general public, but Bette insists they watch this game from the better halves box, and these spaces are closer to that entrance.

“Stop dragging your feet,” the blonde chastises as Magdalene takes her time cutting the engine. “I want to get a glass of rosé before they sell out.”

Sighing, Magdalene follows her orders. “Don’t you have a special bar in the box?” she asks while locking the car.

“Yeah, but the other girls are absolute fiends. They’ll drink it all before we get there with no remorse.”

The girls climb the stairs to the better halves box, Bette chatting excitedly about the game, but Magdalene stops just before the entrance. She’s met most of the others on multiple occasions and has nothing to worry about, but she can’t help but feel anxious. Her life is so different than everyone else’s in the space, and it feels like cheating when she’s there because she isn’t romantically involved with anyone on the roster. Bette likes to joke that she’s her better half, but Magdalene knows it’s said just to calm her nerves.

“It’ll be fine,” Bette whispers while squeezing her hand, “And if you get too uncomfortable we can find some seats in the nosebleeds.”

Once inside Magdalene’s nerves dissipate. Most of the other wives and girlfriends pay her no mind, but the ones that are especially close to Bette congratulate her on passing her defence. It warms her heart a little, and the small group Magdalene finds herself in settles down to watch the game unfold.

It’s a fairly intense one between Colorado’s division rival St. Louis. Both teams are fighting for first place in the conference, and a win for the Avalanche would put them three points ahead of the Blues instead of one. Players from both sides are amped up, and more than once a scrum at the net has turned into a dog-pile. Colorado is outplaying the other team, but have still managed to find themselves a goal short heading into the final period. At the buzzer Tyson takes the face-off and is immediately shoved by a member of the opposite team. He goes down hard, and Bette squeezes Magdalene’s hand so tightly she fears it will lose blood flow. Silence falls over the arena as Tyson doesn’t immediately get up. The inside of lip finds its way between her teeth and Magdalene bites down hard, worried about her friend. She’s so focussed on Tyson that she doesn’t notice a fight breaking out.

“Holy shit, Gravy is going to town!”

The remark is made by someone Magdalene recognizes as Gabe Landeskog’s wife, and it makes her peel her eyes off of Bette’s worried features and scan the ice for some action. Sure enough, a very tall man is laying right hooks to someone who looks significantly smaller than him on the Avalanche blue line. The referees let the fight continue until Tyson drags himself off the ice and onto the bench before separating the men and throwing them in the penalty box. Magdalene can tell words are still being exchanged from both sides of the glass, but she’s more focussed on the fact Tyson doesn’t make his way to the dressing room – a good sign that allows Bette to drop her hand and let out a shaky breath.

Nothing of great importance happens until MacKinnon ties the game with seven minutes left. It happens while the Avalanche are short handed, and the goal seems to light a fire beneath the team. Magdalene may not know much about hockey, but she’s smart enough to notice the insane amount of energy all the players suddenly have. Time ticks by slowly and before she realizes it, the final face-off is taking place. Luckily it’s in the St. Louis zone and won by Colorado. The puck is tipped back to the same player who got in the fight for Tyson, Gravy, and he one times it right into the back of the net. The buzzer goes off not a second later, and the entire team piles on top of the player who just won them the game.

Bette and Magdalene join in the shrieks of the other partners, jumping from their seats in excitement. Eventually they make their way down to the hallway outside the locker room and lean against the brick while they wait for Tyson.

“You don’t have to stay,” Bette insists, “I can wait by myself.”

Magdalene shakes her head. “No way. I want to make sure he’s okay too. What good is a friend with a black eye?”

The other girl laughs at her friend’s stubbornness but doesn’t shoo her away. Once Magdalene has made a decision it’s hard to get her to sway from it, and Bette knows better than to push. Besides, who is she to deny her friend a bit more social interaction? Magdalene has spent the past six years practically holed up in the library and deserves to stand in a crowded hallway.

The friends chat idly while they wait, with Magdalene sharing some of the most ridiculous questions she got asked in her defence interview that morning. She’s mid story when Tyson exits the dressing flanked by a man dressed sharply in all black.

“Hey guys,” Tyson greets, dipping his head to place a kiss to Bette’s cheek before doing an elaborately goofy handshake with Magdalene.

“Good game baby,” Bette compliments sweetly. She then turns her attention to the boy standing awkwardly on the fringes. “You too Graves.”

He smiles shyly, muttering out a small thanks. It’s then he seems to notice the final member of the group, and offers his hand in greeting. “Hi, I’m Ryan.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Magdalene.”

She puts two and two together on the walk to her car. The Ryan Magdalene just met is the same who will take her spot on the trip, fought someone in Tyson’s defence, and scored the game winning goal. Though they’ve only said a few words, she likes him. He seems genuine, and those people are the rarest to find.

☼☼☼☼

Magdalene is walking across a graduation stage for the final time in two days. However, she can’t find anyone to take the third ticket. The University of Denver has a stupid rule where all graduates must have three guests attend the ceremony. Bette and Tyson are obviously occupying two of Magdalene’s seats, but she’s having trouble filling the third.

“I can ask Tys if one of the guys is free,” Bette shrugs. The two girls are sitting in the window of Barn Owl drinking iced lattes and discussing what Magdalene should wear to the ceremony.

“It’s okay,” Magdalene says, “I don’t want to bother anyone. Maybe I’ll just ask June.”

Her friend’s eye roll so far back into her head Magdalene isn’t sure they won’t stay there. “You can’t ask your boss to watch you graduate Mags! Besides, Gravy owes Tyson a favour and was already looking for something to do. I’m sure he won’t mind wasting a few hours as long as he gets drinks out of it.”

There isn’t a better option, so even though she barely knows the guy, Magdalene agrees. “Make sure he gets this?" she sighs, handing her friend an envelope with a single ticket in it. "I have to go. Caligula should be done at the vet soon.”

“Say hello to little boots for me,” Bette giggles as she waves goodbye.

Hours later, tucked into her couch with a glass of wine in one hand and Caligula playing with the fingers on the other, Magdalene realizes she invited a complete stranger to her graduation and how that could be a terrible idea. Sure, Ryan sounds like a great guy from the way Bette and Tyson talk about him, but he’s only ever spoken three words to her. Since that game she’s gone out with the team a few times, but the man with the piercing stare is yet to make an appearance. Magdalene considers that perhaps he’s more like her than his profession gives him credit for, and she feels a twinge of guilt about being worried he’d cause a scene at the ceremony.

There isn’t any more time for her to fret over the third and final guest on the list. At the last minute Bette decides there’s nothing in Magdalene’s closet that’s suitable for her to wear, so a trip to a local second-hand store ensues. While it’s nice that her friend has taken their carbon footprints into consideration, Magdalene wishes it didn’t have to happen an hour and a half before the ceremony is supposed to start.

“We have to be there in twenty minutes Bette,” she frets, tapping her foot nervously against the tile flooring.

If they can’t find whatever it is Bette’s looking for, Magdalene will have to walk across the stage in denim cutoffs and a faded t-shirt with Neil Young’s face on it, which is something she’s hoping to avoid at all costs.

“Have no fear, Mags,” she says with a knowing glint in her eye, “For I have found it.” Bette holds up a hanger that is holding a beautiful long sleeve dress adorned with a whimsical floral print.

Magdalene can’t help the gasp that escapes from her. “It’s beautiful,” she breathes, “But let’s hope it fits.”

The dress does in fact fit, and the workers are kind enough to let her wear it out of the store. Bette drives at a speed that might not be the safest to travel at in downtown Denver, but she gets to the school with minutes to spare. She shoos her friends out of the car so she can go pick up Tyson and Ryan, and Magdalene checks in with little hassle. The pool of graduates is fairly small, so she chats with a few classmates while they wait for the call to put their gowns on. Time passes quicker than expected, and soon Magdalene is being directed to her seat. She zones out while the dean gives a congratulatory speech and they go through the first few names. At one point she looks backwards into the crowd to find Bette, Tyson, and Ryan all giving her a thumbs up. The nerves she didn’t even know she had settle.

A faculty member signals for Magdalene’s row to stand up, and she smoothes her dress before dutifully following the person in front of her. Giddiness bubbles in her stomach at the thought of being done school forever. A hand from the stage crew give a cue, and Magdalene appears on the stage as her accomplishment is broadcast through the microphone.

“Magdalene Stevenson is being awarded a Masters in Information Science in Archival Studies and Records Management.” It feels so good to finally be finished that she lets a tear slip as she shakes the hand of the staff member handing her the package with her diploma in it.

The rest of the ceremony passes in a blur, and before Magdalene knows it her friends are approaching to congratulate her. Bette and Tyson wrap her in a tight hug, murmuring praise in her ears. Ryan stands awkwardly to the side before Bette drags him into the celebration. The four of them stand in the courtyard where the ceremony was for much longer than needed. Bette is crying enough to refill Sloan Lake if there is ever a drought and is yet to let go of Magdalene’s figure.

It’s only when the event staff ask them to leave so they can tear down the stage does Magdalene turn to leave campus for the last time as a student. She’ll be back in a few weeks as an employee, but deep down she knows this is the last time she’ll ever feel such a deep connection to the place.

“Victory is mine, victory is mine! Great day in the morning people, victory is mine!” Magdalene yells, quoting Josh Lyman as she skips down the path towards Bette’s car.

Both Bette and Tyson are confused at the sudden outburst, not knowing what she’s talking about, but Ryan responds without missing a beat. “Should I bring you all the muffins and bagels in the land?” His response doesn’t clear anything up, but it elicits a giant smile from Magdalene, who laughs and nods in confirmation.

Sitting in the back of Bette’s Audi, on the way to a graduation party she’s supposed to know nothing about, Magdalene decides that she wants to get to know Ryan Graves better. From what she’s garnered from Bette and Tyson he’s a class act, standing up for friends and giving good advice. He likes The West Wing and showed up to a stranger’s graduation, so how bad can he be?

☼☼☼☼

additional notes: see what magdalene's graduation dress looks like here // the quote from the west wing is from 1.02 if you were curious!

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy (add yourself to the taglist!)

#ryan graves imagine #ryan graves x oc #ryan graves fic #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #cwrites #dmtteol

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bittybattybunny · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 1: The King’s Favorite

(As I said I had a new multi fic, but until I do a cover it won’t go on ao3, so for now enjoy! Second Chances and Angel Foodcake!)

He sighed as he worked on whipping the egg whites. He had another weird dream with that woman in it. The sad smile she wore made his chest ache. He gave a sigh as his brother stole an orange from the bowl on the counter.

“What’s with you?” Marcus asked as he started to peel the fruit. He shoved a slice in his mouth as Arulius set the bowl down and ruffled his hair.

“I had a weird dream---”

“Shocking.” Marcus’s tone was dry as he ate another orange slice, “Not Ru king of weird dreams. Isn’t that why you’re a writer?”

“Shut upppp.” Arulius sighed as he grabbed the other bowl and began to fold the whipped egg whites with the whipped cream, “Look I just. You try dreaming of the same woman night after night since you’re 16!”

“Nope. I don’t dream.” Marcus reminded him as he continued to eat, “maybe she’s your soul mate.”

“I doubt it. Considering I think shes my guard?” he frowned, “in the dream’s I’m married. I have kids. She’s just… she’s so sad.”

“Maybe circumstances kept your love unable to exist. If you find her when you aren’t hallucinating unconsciously flirt with her.” Marcus snickered as he finished his orange and threw the peel away, “Good luck with your sleeping beauty!” he grabbed his bag as he headed out, “oh and it’s your turn to do the dishes!”

“Fineee!” Arulius sighed as his brother left. He sighed and poured the batter into the pan. Undoing his apron he got to work on cleaning up.

“Kept it unable to exist…” he mused. He chuckled, there was no way.

------

As he held the boxed cake on the subway he felt something was off. His stomach was uneasy. It wasn’t his first time on public transport with a dessert he didn’t want ruined, and yet. He grimaced.

“Are you okay?”

He looked up and his breath caught in his throat. Long curly black hair held back with a blue ribbon, large eyes in two different colors (Black on the right side, bright blue on the other), mouth drawn in concern as a small fang stuck out, she furrowed her brow as she looked at him.

“Are you okay?” she asked again.

He gasped, “Um yeah! Sorry my stomach’s got butterflies!” he admitted nervously.

“Interview?” she asked with a small laugh, “you’re really pale so I was worried, maybe you should get off soon and rest before continuing.”

“No I’m just, going to my book club.” he laughed, “I promised to bring cake.”

“Oh? Which one?” she covered her mouth in shock, “you aren’t heading to Horizon Group are you?”

He blinked a few times, mouth twitching, “I am…”

She laughed, “My brother attends that! I was going to get his car keys!” She sat beside him and he felt his heart racing, “I’m Eclipse! Sena’s my elder brother!” she explained.

He gasped, “Ah! I can see it!” he realized as he looked at her, “you do look like him.”

“I know right? If people don’t know they tend to not notice but when they know its clear we’re related!” she laughed and looked at the cake, “Sweets, so you must be Arulius right?”

He felt his cheeks growing warm and nodded, “how did you?”

“My brother says you often bring snacks for meet ups! And you always get new cookbooks!” she giggled and he felt his face growing warmer. She touched her lips with a grin, “Actually he brought some of the cookies you made last week, the raisin oatmeal were really good~! I was sad I couldn’t try your chocolate chip ones though.” she gave a saddened sigh.

“Ah? I can make some…” he offered and she shook her head.

“I’m allergic to chocolate but the hospital trip was very tempting they smelt so good~!” she laughed.

“Ah.” he put a hand to his mouth, “White chocolate?” he asked. He knew it wasn’t a “true” chocolate.

She shook her head, “No, my allergy is a bit severe.” she gave a dejected sigh, “most white chocolate is processed in the same plants so…”

“What if I made it from scratch?” he asked with his head tilted, “Candy melts?” he wondered.

She turned red, “y-you don’t have to do that! I was just complimenting your baking!! It’s really good!”

He gave a soft smile, “well when we get to the meeting, want some of this?” he held the cake, “it’s a whipped cream cake! Kinda like angel food cake but it has whipped cream IN the cake.” he explained.

She gasped and covered her mouth, “That sounds good! Is that alright though? Isn’t it for the others?”

“Well I brought it to share, and I’m sure it’s fine, I always leave with leftovers.” he explained. His heart wouldn’t stop pounding. Something about the young woman was familiar to him (other than her being Sena’s sister. Something was there.) and something told him to be on good terms.

“If you want, I bake a lot, i can always send some stuff with your brother, or you can join teh club!” he grinned.

She turned bright red, “N-no I couldn’t! It’s fine! I-I don’t have time for it I need t-to finish my thesis!”

“Thesis?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

“Yeah! I’m doing a report on the fallen Solgarian kingdom!” she clapped.

Solgario? He blinked as that rang in his head. His dreams. He remembered that name.

“History major?” he asked as she nodded happily.

“I’m working on my Master’s! I want to curate a museum!” she admitted with mirth, “I love studying old things and I love the sotries of the last king!”

“Yeah? I can’t say I know much. Tell me?” He checked the stops, they had time.

“Oh where to begin!” she beamed, happily like a cocker spaniel, “King Luka Thatcher Law was the last king of the empire, he was married to Queen Vanessa Everfrost and they had a daughter together! Sadly tragedy struck. First the death of the king’s personal aide to poison, the death of the princess, and then the king himself withered away.” she sighed, “The queen was the last monarch but a war struck and she was unable to fend it so the kingdom fell.”

“That’s… that’s horrible…” Arulius tensed up. The butterflies were worse.

“There’s some theories the queen herself poisoned the guard, you see King Luka and the guard knew each other as children, and she was the daughter from the only ducal household---”

“A female guard?” Arulius’s chest hurt, “What was her name?”

“Amaris---”

He felt his chest pinch and his vision fogged.

“Ah!” Eclipse shouted as he slumped forward.

------

His head hurt. He jolted and sat up in bed. He looked around confused at the lavish space. He frowned. This wasn’t the hospital or subway. He covered his mouth in thought, long black hair falling over his shoulder. He blinked and looked at the curl, then his hands. He stared at the callouses that weren’t in their normal spots.

“What…?” he covered his mouth in shock at his voice. What happened?! He got up and whacked his head on the bedframe, before crumpling to the ground.

“Mmmmy looooord are you okay?” came a singsong tone.

His mouth moved on its own, “I’m fine Amaris.” he covered his mouth in shock.

“I’m coming in.”

Before he could stop her the door swung open and the black-armored knight stepped in, her silver hair cropped short and fluffing around her face, large eyes of black and blue, scars on her cheeks. She gasped and ran over to help him up.

“My lord!” she fretted as she helped him stand and dusted him off, “Dear me why on earth are you on the floor?!” She looked up and paled. Her gloves were removed and she reached up to stroke his face.

He sniffled as the tears pooled and dripped. She was here. Alive.

“Lu?” she asked softly, “Luka what’s wrong?”

“S-sorry just. Had a bad dream.” he muttered. She snorted and raised her hands, a soft light emitting off her hands.

“Pain pain go away leave Luka’s heart calm and pure~!” she sang happily. He felt a bit lighter and sighed as he rested his cheek in her hand.

“Such a competent Nightingale.” He chuckled. He took her hand in his as she laughed, giving him a sad smile that made his chest sting. The smile he always saw her wear in his dreams.

“Of course, I’m your head guard for a reason~!” she hummed, “Come on now, the queen has been crying all morning for you.” she sighed heavily, “Pregnant women are difficult to deal with. Or is it just Vanessa?”

He shuddered. Vanessa. Luka. Amaris. His golden eyes grew wide.

----

He gasped as he sat up and winced. Eclipse held her hands cautiously near him, afraid to touch him.

“A-Aruli--” she squeaked when he wrapped his arms around her, tangling his fingers in his hair as he tried to stop crying. She whined but slowly wrapped her arms around him.

“Pain pain go away…” She mumbled and he felt a small breeze and a lightness in his chest. He pulled away and she wiped his eyes. “You okay?” she asked with worry.

“Just… Sorry, I’ve had weird dreams lately… was that..magic?”

She turned red and shook her head, “I-it’s just an old wives tale you know---” her eyes were spinning and she wouldn’t meet his gaze. He chuckled.

“Sure, okay. Say I believed that.”

She stared at him confused as he simply smiled.

He hated to admit it, but maybe his brother was right on something.

“Magic’s neat.” He watched her turn red and look away ashamed.

“Um… are you two done?” the train conductor asked as he scratched his head. Tired violet eyes looking at the two.

“I’m fine! I just didn’t sleep well it seems!” Arulius lied. He moved to stand and wobbled. Eclipse supported his side and he tried to get his stomach to behave. He gasped, “nooo my cake.” he saw the box on the floor and reached for it. He sighed seeing it ruined.

“What stop is this?” He asked.

“You should go to a hospital I think.” Eclipse fretted as he headed towards the door while holding her hand.

“No i’m fine really! I just have had issues sleeping!” he explained, “so I have weird dreams, it just so happened the name you mentioned reminded me of them so I passed out.”

She frowned and reached to put a hand on his forehead. He hadn’t noticed before but her body spray had a slight pine smell to it, pine and honey. Lavender too?

“You’re a little warm. Let’s go to the bookstore, I’ll get Sena’s keys and drive you to the hospital.” she insisted. “I don’t want you passing out like the train. To think you’re feeble bodied.” she sighed.

“Should a witch joke about that?” he teased as she turned red.

“I-it wasn’t magic! Honest to goodness! I’m not! I’m not!” she fretted as he snickered.

“What’s your familiar?” he asked as she tried to hide her face, “why are you so embarrassed?”

“W-Why you ask! You keep instigating I’m a w-witch do you know how they are seen?! Wannabes who think they can be hot shit just cuz they can fly o-or heal things!” she pouted as her hair fluffed up, “No one likes witches!!”

“I do.” he opened the door of the bookstore.

“Sena your friend is insane!” she insisted as the eyepatch wearing shop owner turned confused. He tilted his head and saw Arulius behind her.

“Ah, Pia you know Ru?” he asked confused as she slammed her hands on the desk with a huff.

“We met on the train.” Arulius set the ruined cake down, “I had a bit of an incident and passed out.”

“Well you’re pretty weak.” Sena snorted, “Pia what’s the issue though? He’s insane?”

“I told her I like witches.”

Sena snorted and had to kneel behind the desk to hide his laughter.

“SEE HE’S INSANE!” she was completely red in the face.

“W-Why would…” Sena snorted and laughed, “what brought this on?”

“Pain pain go away.” Arulius sang, causing the bookseller to start laughing harder.

“YOU USED A HEALING SPELL ON HIM!” he wheezed as her hair fluffed up.

“I-I didn’t! I didn’t! I’m not a witch! Witches are--”

“The one in front is really cute.” a litted voice laughed as the black haired individual slid down the railing from the second floor, “hey Ru, why is my husband dying?”

“I said I like witches and Eclipse is throwing a fit.” Arulius chuckled.

“Pia used a healing spell on him Love! And acting like she’s not a w-witch!” Sena cackled.

“Well she has always hated that term, you guys aren’t even witches technically.” Love shut an eye, “you’re what, like half fae?”

“Something like that.” Eclipse grumbled as she tried to fix her hair, “B-But he’s still weird! Give me the car keys he needs a hospital!”

“Naw he’s fine.” Love looked at the young writer, “seems he may have a magic his own.”

“Naw, I’m boring.” Arulius held his hands up, “weird dreams and a writer. That’s it!”

“Weird dreams he says.” Sena tried to stop laughing.

Eclipse groaned, “I’m not a witch! Witches are mean and ugly and haughty! I’m not! I didn’t sue magic! I’m---” She flinched when Arulius covered her eyes with his hand. Instantly she relaxed against him. He blinked in surprise that had actually worked.

Sena stared at the two and blinked a few times as he finally got his composure back, “well then. Are you sure you aren’t magic?”

“I’m really not.” Arulius laughed, “my dad’s a lawyer and my mom teaches pre-k. We’re just an average family.” he laughed, “Honestly, I just. Have weird dreams. I thought this may help.” he slowly removed his hand as she peeked at him with a completely reddened face.

He smirked and she squeaked and looked away. He couldn’t help the dumb grin, “hey Sena.”

“What?” the book seller raised his brow.

“Would you kill me for trying to seduce your sister?”

The entire shop went silent.

The silver haired shop keep’s eye twitched.

“WHAT?!”

#Second chances and Angel Food cake AU #fan fiction #ahit au #ahit prince #ahit moonjumper #ahit fan character #ahit shapeshifter #writing #Eclipse Guardian #Prince Arulius #Sena the threadsmith #Marcus Johnathan Cornelius Law #Craft Tailor #change of pace with ru being the one remebmering past lives #eclipse is just an enthusiastic student with a small tsun tsun heart

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riversofmars · 4 years ago

Note

The Doctor visiting River at Luna University?

Thank you for a brilliant prompt, I love doing bits with River at Uni! I’m actually doing two chapters worth of uni stuff, so here is the first one! <3

Rating: General

Word Count: 1800

Part of the Big, Vast, Complicated and Ridiculous series!

Luna University Part I

Reluctantly, the Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS, ready to face another disappointment. She found herself in what looked like a living room. It was warm and comfortable. There was soft music playing and shadows danced across the walls with the movement of the flames from an open fire.

“Hello Sweetie.“ River’s voice was soft, yet it startled the Doctor. She looked around to the sofa across from the fireplace. River gave her a loving smile as she took a sip from her wine glass.

“Finally.“ The Doctor breathed as her heart swelled at the warmth in her wife’s expression.

“Are you quite alright, my Love?“ River asked while the Doctor made her way over. She halted by the side of the sofa. The coffee table in front of her was covered in books, notes and essays. This was Professor River Song, the Doctor realised, in her time teaching at Luna University. “Sweetie?“ River tilted her head, drawing her attention when she didn’t receive an answer.

“I’ve just…“ The Doctor didn’t know what to say. She looked to River who was just putting her red marker pen down. She was lounging comfortably on the sofa, glass of red wine in hand, a silky dressing gown wrapped around her tightly… she’d hardly ever seen her wife look so… peaceful. It was such a stark contrast to the River she had encountered moments ago. River waited patiently for her to say something and the Doctor felt herself chocking up. Without thinking about it, she got onto the sofa with her, climbed on top of her wife and wrapped her arms around her middle. River chuckled a little, the Doctor didn’t usually seek closeness like this, but when her wife rested her head against her chest, she realised it was what she needed.

“Anything you’d care to talk about?“ River asked softly. She put her wine glass down and wrapped her arms around her, holding her close. Idly she started running her fingers through her silky hair, soothing and loving and the Doctor felt herself relaxing, melting into her touch. She closed her eyes, focusing on her other senses instead. The soft and soothing classical tones in the background, River’s curls tickling her face, the steady beating of River’s hearts, the faint smell of her perfume, her arms firm around her. The Doctor squeezed her eyes shut more tightly as she felt tears welling up in them.

“I don’t know… I… the timelines…“ She whispered in response to her wife’s question.

“You know I’m not putting any of this in the Diary, Darling, you told me not to, remember?“ River hummed and placed a soft kiss on the top of her head.

“I don’t actually… Haven’t done that yet.“ The Doctor replied weakly and River chuckled a little.

“Well, you will.“ She assured her, playing with her hair.

“I just miss you so much.“ The Doctor confessed clinging to her more tightly.

“Did something happen?“ River asked brushing her hair back, taking her face in her hands to make her look up. The Doctor did, reluctantly, as River searched her eyes for clues as to what was going on with her.

She wanted to tell her everything. Everything the Timelords had done to her. What the Master had done to Gallifrey. Tell her about her imprisonment, her struggle for her identity. About not knowing who she was or where she was going or where to even start to get answers. She wanted to tell her about her self doubts, about the terrible things she had done and how she felt herself slipping away. About the anger that was eating at her… But when she looked in River’s eyes, seeing the love, adoration and warmth reflected back at her, she just couldn’t bring herself to. She didn’t want to disappoint her, to worry her, in this perfectly still moment.

“When I’m with you, I feel like I can carry the weight of the universe on my shoulders.“ The Doctor whispered, her voice thick with emotion and River looked back at her full of surprise at the touching confession. The Doctor wasn’t usually one for confessions of love so it struck her as even more extraordinary… and concerning.

“You don’t need me for that, that’s all you.“ River smiled softly and kissed her forehead.

“I don’t think that’s true anymore…“ The Doctor gave her a sad smile and rested her head back on her chest, listening to the soothing double beat of her hearts again. She was warm, alive and real. At this point in time at least.

“Then you’re an idiot.“ River huffed, clearly not taking her very seriously at all. “You’re the Doctor. When have you ever been reliant on anyone?“ She trailed her finger tips up her arm. The Doctor gave a sort of bitter laugh.

“So much of what I do, what I have done… was to be the person you wanted me to be.“ She sighed. She had thought a lot about it the past nineteen years and one fundamental truth remained: her name was a promise to live up to, an ideal, an impossible goal. It was like striving for perfection and falling short, even on her best day. But sometimes, people around her made her better, made her want to try harder, and through them, she got a little closer to being the Doctor. No-one more so than her wife. “To you, I’m the Doctor. Your Doctor… Righteous, clever, funny, brave, always doing the right thing, never giving up… in a word, perfect…“ There was an incredible sadness in her voice that shook River to the core.

“Doctor, I…“ She started but the Doctor interrupted her softly:

“No, it’s true. That’s how you’ve always seen me and I have tried so hard not to disappoint you. And then, at Demon’s Run… that’s when I realised how I am perceived, how you perceived me… it changed me, made me better, but now…“ Not only did she feel like she had gone back on all the progress she’d made but she’d drifted further from the ideal than ever before.

“I don’t expect you to be perfect, Doctor, I never have and you are far from it. And that’s fine, that’s good.“ River said softy as she placed another kiss on top of her head. She nuzzled into her hair and continued: “It’s hard enough trying to keep up with an immortal being of legend, imagine the pressure if you were flawless, too, because I’m far from it.“ She chuckled, seemingly trying to make light of it.

“River…“ The Doctor launched a weak protest. She just didn’t seem to understand, how could she not understand this most fundamental truth at the heart of their relationship?

“Sweetie, whatever it is, whatever you’ve done… it’s okay. Sometimes you’re faced with impossible choices… and the very fact that you’re beating yourself up about it shows that you haven’t strayed far from the path at all, don’t you see?“ The Doctor didn’t know how to respond, but she remembered the future River that she had visited at the Library saying the same. She’d probably thought back to this conversation and it made the Doctor smile a little. She had been one - and perhaps several - steps ahead of her, as usual. “Whatever it is.“ River demanded her attention again, running her hand through her hair. “I forgive you, if that helps.“

“You do?“ The Doctor looked up, surprised at the strange relief her words brought her. River didn’t even know what she had done, surely she could tell from her behaviour that it was something very bad, and yet, without question she forgave her. Placing a trust in her that made her hearts a little lighter.

“Maybe you just needed to hear someone say that?“ River asked, seeing the relief reflected back at her.

“I love you, River. I’m so sorry to have disappointed you.“ The Doctor whispered and River cupped her face, trailing her thumb over her cheek.

“I don’t even know what you’re sorry for. But it’s okay. I love you… I’d probably still love you, even if you’d wiped out half the galaxy.“ She replied, her sincerity turning to a chuckle halfway through.

“I didn’t do that.“ The Doctor huffed with a roll of her eyes.

“Well then, we’re all good then, aren’t we.“ River winked and pressed her lips to hers in a reassuring, yet tender kiss.

“I’m so happy to have found you again…“ The Doctor whispered as she rested her forehead against hers.

“Now that you have… Care to spend the night?“ River smirked, her tone turning sultry upon sensing her wife had gotten through the worst of it. She hooked her finger around one of her yellow braces, pulling them playfully.

“That sounds like a very good idea.“ The Doctor grinned, excitement sweeping through her as she felt lighter than she had in a while. She pushed her hands into River’s curls and kissed her more deeply.

——

The next morning came all too soon and with a reminder: “Don’t be late.“ Was all Yaz’s text read and the Doctor knew she had a promise to keep. She had been so relieved that at least Yaz wanted to keep travelling with her, so she really shouldn’t be standing her up. Even though technically, she could keep jumping through time endlessly and still return to Sheffield on time, she knew she had postponed her journey for too long, taking detours to avoid the lingering questions.

“Mind doing me a favour, Sweetie?“ River asked before the Doctor could bid her goodbye.

“Anything.“ The Doctor smiled as she wrapped her arms around her, inhaling her perfume once more for good measure. She felt a lot calmer now. She knew she would see River again. Maybe not in this time and place but eventually. There was no need for lengthy goodbyes.

“I’ve finished writing my Master’s thesis, could you pop it by my younger self?“ River pointed to a pile of papers on the coffee table as she let go of her.

“Oh my God, are you serious?“ The Doctor exclaimed and her face fell.

“I can’t cross my own time stream and I already know you did, so…“ River gave her a wink.

“You do?“ The Doctor rolled her eyes.

“Well, looking back now, yes. At the time I just thought you were a very cute graduate that wanted to help me out.“ River revealed as she went to pick up the precious pages.

“Did you know it was me?“ The Doctor frowned, realising how early in her timeline they were talking about.

“You never said at the time.“ River recalled and the Doctor sighed:

“Oh great…“

“Doesn’t mean you won’t have fun though.“ River smirked, bopping her nose.

Perhaps one more trip before heading back to Sheffield…

#Doctor who #fanfiction #river song #thirteen #thirteenth doctor #space wives #river x thirteen #thirteen/river #luna university #yowzah #otp #The doctor x River song #hurt/comfort #general #prompt #mild angst #soft #fluff

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polaristranslations · 4 years ago

Text

Shinobu Mustard Episode 3

019

What goes around will come around.

The fact that I had silenced Oshino Shinobu with a kiss in an abandoned building that was once a cram school had become a mere memory, but now I was reaping what I sowed by being silenced with a kiss by her predecessor, Princess Acerola, in heaven. After all this time.

I'd been hit where I least expected it.

It was a scene that I could only describe as bewildering, but at the same time, maybe I should feel honored by it... Not even the princess from mythology and fairy tales, who went around destroying nations everywhere, would have killed her people with such a beautiful kiss.

Not one you do on the back of one's hand, but a genuine, lips-on-lips kiss.

And happening in heaven, at that.

Or it could be that it had just been a wild delusion of mine (in which case, I had better rush to the hospital as soon as possible, instead of worrying that my vampire constitution might be exposed—my mind had to be in serious condition to fantasize about a naked princess with a demon mask), but, like in hell, there was no dying, living, or killing in heaven.

If there was.

It would be—coming back to life.

"......"

When I came to, I was back in the main shrine of Kitashirahebi Shrine—a dark indoor scene, a complete change from the scenery that I'd been seeing previously. No matter how I looked at it, it wasn't great Mother Nature of the Middle Ages, but Japanese architecture of the present.

A scene I was quite familiar with.

However, the circumstances around me, I wasn't familiar with.

After my early return from my trip to not hell but heaven, the ones who greeted me were my oni partner, Oshino Shinobu, and my godly friend, Hachikuji Mayoi—and their tears.

"M-master! Master, my master! You came back!"

"A-Ara... Arara... Araragi-shan!"

The crying girl and little girl came and squeezed me in a tight hug.

What was this situation? For Hachikuji to normally flub my name like this...

"Since you were showing no signs of coming back to life, Koyomin, these kids were worrying that they'd accidentally messed up and killed their partner or friend, up until now."

Said a voice.

Behind the bawling pair, there was the shadow of somebody who stood there, shocked—and that somebody was casually carrying, not an oodachi, but a kodachi, against her shoulder.

It was Gaen Izuko-san.

There was no one else that would call me Koyomin—she must have revived me with the Demon Blade "Yumewatari", that formed a pair with the Demon Blade "Kokorowatari".

"Although, they actually did mess up. Since Shinobu-chan comes from the position of being sealed, she couldn't break the pairing between herself and you, Koyomin, so it just ended up being a half-baked near-death experience."

So basically—I was fine up until the point where I was blown to smithereens, but afterwards, since I wasn't returning from hell, Shinobu and Hachikuji panicked and asked for help from Gaen-san?

"To be precise, they actually asked for help from Yotsugi. And she was the one who contacted me. And since I had so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so much free time, I came."

Gaen-san, are you perhaps mad?

Well, of course she'd be mad. Since they were both willing to ask for help, both Shinobu and Hachikuji probably gave all the information they had to Ononoki-chan, and by extension, Gaen-san.

At the very least, Gaen-san should now be aware that this shrine was sheltering the mummy of a little girl—Deathtopia Virtuoso Suicidemaster.

The ancient vampire that Gaen-san had been attempting to seize all throughout tonight... Incidentally, I had completely ignored the mission entrusted to me by Gaen-san and tried to fall to hell of my own accord.

At this point, the promise that she wouldn't get involved again until I graduated from college was most likely no longer valid... Or rather, it was a breach of trust that may as well have earned me a permanent breaking off of relations.

It was natural for her to get mad.

"I'm not mad, Koyomin. I'm hurt. I thought you'd have a little more faith in me."

That was what Gaen-san said before she returned the Demon Blade "Yumewatari" to the still-sobbing Shinobu—the sword capable of reviving oddities, complementing the sword capable of killing them.

Of course, Shinobu and Hachikuji had probably intended to use that kodachi to revive me, but it didn't go as well as when they had sent me to hell—but that made sense.

After all, I hadn't fallen to hell in the first place.

I'd been sidetracked with a drastic change to my route, sent to heaven instead of hell—and that was when Hachikuji's plan fell apart.

So for me to have been revived now, Gaen-san, the onee-san who knows everything, had surely managed to grasp what sort of experience I'd undertaken—it was hard to gauge what was going through Gaen-san's mind, as she would have had to urgently interrupt her carefully planned all-nighter after receiving the request through the young girl from the girl and little girl.

It was likely a loss of face for a commander to abandon the mission she had planned.

I really felt sorry after she told me that she felt hurt—yes, when I was in high school, it felt like school was almost everything to me, but now that I'd become a college freshman and expanded my world somewhat, I'd learned that it was not only children that get hurt, but adults, as well.

Even the onee-san who knew everything wasn't Superman—after making an adult feel hurt, making a girl sad, and making a little girl cry, I was so wracked with guilt that I almost did actually want to go to hell this time.

I wondered how they must have felt while looking at my dismembered body, and I swore to myself that I would absolutely never tell them that I'd been talking to a naked beautiful woman wearing a demon mask in heaven.

The difference in elevation and temperature was really something else.

The difference in elevation between heaven and hell.

And the difference in temperature between the pond of blood and her lips.

"What's the matter, Koyomin? This onee-san is waiting for your words of apology, you know? I'm ready to forgive you, so you should really reconcile these things quickly."

Regardless of what she felt inside, she was showing a lot of generosity, quite like an adult, or perhaps even an onee-san. However.

However, I was unable to offer any words of apology, nor was I able to offer any words of comfort for Shinobu and Hachikuji—well, of course I would do those things afterward, but before that, there was something I had to do first.

Something I had to do.

If I didn't do that, I wouldn't be able to speak.

I picked myself off of the floor, broke away from the new god and the old demon, and turned my back to the administrator of the specialists. And I crawled over to the mummy sheltered in the main shrine, the center of this conversation and the center of this problem.

The mummy of the naked little girl.

The gourmet vampire.

The mummy of Deathtopia Virtuoso Suicidemaster—I carefully cradled that mummy's head so as not to break it, but with the force I'd used to crawl forward, I kissed the mummy with all my might.

A kiss on the lips of a mummy.

These college chapters had become rather adult.

020

To be precise, it wasn't a kiss, but mouth-to-mouth feeding.

I had wondered what was going on in heaven when Princess Acerola kissed me out of the blue, without any preamble—I even wondered if I had developed an elegance that could charm even a princess, and I simply hadn't realized how attractive I really was, but that wasn't it at all.

It was true that it was a thesis-like kiss to try and bring me back to life (being brought back by Demon Blade "Yumewatari" was an explanation that only applied in this world, and there needed to be an explanation in the next world—essentially, the same thing as what Teori Tadatsuru had done with me in hell), but there was yet another reason.

The princess had, of all things, entrusted it to me via mouth-to-mouth—that is, the wonder drug.

The medicine in place of the soup from the Blood Pond Hell.

To go even further—the food.

Though that gourmet vampire would even refuse treatment for the sake of her epicureanism, there did exist food that she would absolutely take into her mouth.

For example.

Princess Acerola's blood was the prime example.

After all, she'd already partaken in it once before—but just as heaven had no place for a Blood Pond Hell (or perhaps, no place for me to belong), neither could bloodshed occur in heaven.

So the "gift" entrusted to me by "Princess Beauty", as a further generic drug to replace blood—was saliva.

Not blood, but saliva.

However, saliva did hold the same characteristics as blood, and I had personally treated Hanekawa Tsubasa and Oikura Sodachi before, using a treatment of saliva based in a vampire's recovery powers.

You could also say it was the easiest medicine to transfer by mouth... So, for that reason, even though I was embraced by a girl, even though I was cried at by a young girl, and even though I was reprimanded by an adult, I could not open my mouth to console or apologize without first getting rid of the liquid that had filled it.

From mouth to mouth to mouth.

It was like I was mediating an indirect kiss between Princess Acerola and Suicidemaster, and I had some mixed feelings about it, but anyway, I placed a kiss upon the mummy that was way out of my strike zone.

Seriously, if it weren't for this life-saving procedure, I didn't want to play the role of this laughingstock again.

"M-my master... So your degeneracy has finally gone that far..."

Shinobu, who seemed to have stopped crying from shock, did not seem to understand that my action, which I carried out as soon as I came back to life, was a noble medical procedure—but I was eager to expel every drop of saliva that had been stored in my mouth.

I'd gotten a taste of what it felt to be a squirrel hoarding acorns in my cheek pouches... Well, what I'd really gotten a taste of was the saliva of a princess.

There was still a small amount of vampire in my composition, so it took a lot of strength to keep from swallowing it myself.

I wanted to praise myself for my impressive self-control.

If I may say so myself, as someone who had the privilege of tasting it (maybe that's why I was able to come back to life), it was a soup that would surely satisfy even the most discriminating gourmet vampire... Well, as a result, there may have been a little bit of my own saliva mixed it, but then again, I was a man that had once been a thrall of Kissshot Acerolaorion Heartunderblade, the future form of "Princess Beauty".

Perhaps she could think of it as a spice to enhance the flavor.

And so, the mummy, who had been force-fed the medicine by me, showed no signs of spitting it back out.

Quite literally—she drank it.

And then,

"Oh—ohh! It's kind of like that, isn't it? When you put dried wakame back into water—"

Though Hachikuji Mayoi's voice was still tearful, her comment seemed truly pertinent, as one would expect from the girl with a reputation for her powers of expression.

The mummy began to regenerate.

Dried-up skin and bones were gradually returning to youthfully dewlike skin and flesh—like an overly-CG-enhanced commercial for hair treatment, even her hair was becoming springy and shiny.

It most likely didn't have to do with the fact that she was the progenitor who birthed and named the golden-haired, golden-eyed Kisshot Acerolaorion Heartunderblade—but her hair was dazzlingly gold.

"How splendid—but the same thing won't work on the mummified high school girls. Because this 'reversion' is basically vampirification."

Gaen-san came in with her specialist-like commentary—and, as always, it was spot on. It was true that, if we used the same form of treatment on the victims of this case, then the girls who had failed in becoming a vampire would instead become "successes", putting us in a tight spot.

That would be putting the cart before the horse.

"—Suicidemaster. So it was you, after all," muttered Shinobu to the mummy in super-recovery.

It seemed she'd decided to put aside her shock at my treatment for the time being. Although it would be nice if she could just forget about entirely, as she did with her past self.

Even though she'd called out her name at first glance, she could still not be one hundred percent sure in that mummy state—but now that she was on the mend, it seemed she was finally convinced that it was her former vampire master.

"Though you haven't changed—that you're still a mess."

...? What did she mean by that?

As far as I could see, the naked little girl's mummy had finished her "reversion" to a naked little girl, without any defects—I didn't know if all vampires were like this, but she turned out to be a cute little girl, as if the mummy form she'd been in before had just been a lie. She was a cute, naked little girl.

Naturally, it was hard for me to lay my eyes on her, so I took off my jacket and covered her with it.

We weren't in paradise. This was a holy shrine.

"About six years old—I'd say? Her appearance, that is. So there are child vampires, too."

Her size was such that would fit perfectly in a child seat.

Well, if I inferred from what Shinobu told me, this vampire had lived for almost a thousand years, so her age surely didn't correspond to her appearance.

Just as a dog years are different from human years, vampire years must also be different from human years—although, I'd been under the assumption that vampires grew quickly.

If there was someone that didn't look his age, then the half-vampire vampire hunter Episode looked to be about middle or high school age, but he was only about six years old.

"I wonder if she's like a chibi jiangshi."

Yet another analogy from Hachikuji (who was also someone who didn't look her age), but to that, Shinobu said, "Nay," and shook her head harshly.

Both her appraisal and her expression were harsh.

"This little girl form was not the form that Suicidemaster was in when I first met her—hmph. Now we're both little girls, though."

"...? What does that mean...?"

Shinobu didn't seem like she wanted to speak further on the subject, so I had no choice but to ask the person herself about it—that was why I'd revived her in the first place. However, while the body had regained its moisture, there were no signs of her opening her eyes.

Had the treatment failed?

"It'll take some time for the fluids to get from her capillaries to her brain. At this rate, it shouldn't take more than a day. Hmm—I've gotten a pretty good grasp of what's going on, now, Koyomin," said Gaen-san.

As always, she caught onto things at a terrifying rate—surely not even this onee-san had caught onto the fact that I'd been honored with a kiss from a naked beautiful woman wearing a demon mask in heaven, but I couldn't be too careful.

It wouldn't take more than a day.

In other words, it would take... until tomorrow night or so.

"Then, before this vampire—before the first suspect on my list, Deathtopia Virtuoso Suicidemaster, wakes up, I'll have you catch up on my end of things, too. To the point of no return."

"Eh... Please wait. So are you saying that I'm not fired yet?"

"I have more faith in you than you think I do, Koyomin. And that faith won't be broken just because you betrayed me once or twice."

It sounded like praise, but she spoke with a hint of sarcasm.

But I had no choice to content myself with it... Even that sarcasm, and even that faith that felt a little too heavy.

"Hold on. What do you mean by suspect? My old pal?"

Shinobu had been left astonished—uh oh, the fact that she'd been kept out of the loop was about to be exposed.

So Gaen-san hadn't actually explained any of that yet. It hadn't really been the time for it, but she surely wouldn't feel calm now after hearing that her old friend (old pal?) that had just escaped from the critical condition of mummification was actually a suspect in an oddity phenomenon.

"Heh."

With a cool attitude as if she understood everything from the beginning, Hachikuji folded her arms and nodded, but it seemed a bit suspicious to me.

In her own way, she was at risk of being deposed from her godly seat—it was possible that Hachikuji was the number one person in trouble in this town.

After all, Hachikuji in trouble meant that this town was in trouble...

"It seems we'll have to throw out both your feelings of not wanting to rely on Hachikuji-chan and my plan to keep Shinobu-chan at a distance. From now on, we're going to have to band together, so let's have a lively discussion—yes, with everybody. Even including the sleeping vampire, Suicidemaster-chan."

Even including Suicidemaster?

As I was about to inquire into the mind behind this thought-provoking and unexpected statement, Gaen-san gently reined me and said, "First, a report," getting the ball rolling.

"As she was sheltered here, naturally, I was unable to find the suspect and target of our search, Suicidemaster, no matter where I looked in the town... But until I was approached by Yotsugi, it wasn't as if I hadn't found anything."

The fourth mummy had been discovered.

A mummy of a high school girl.

With the fact that it was not an achievement, but a loss—that was what Gaen-san told us.

021

The fourth mummy—if you included Miss Suicidemaster's mummy in the count, that would make it the fifth mummy. But no, I think it made sense to call it the fourth mummy here.

Gaen-san was unhappy about it, but to put it coldly, there was no doubt that this was less of a development in the incident and more of a development in the investigation—because, regardless of whether she'd been found, it didn't change the fact that she'd already been turned into a mummy.

Not to mention, if the circumstances of the discovery narrowed down the timeframe of the crime to sometime tonight, didn't that mean that Suicidemaster had an established alibi?

If she was being sheltered in these holy shrine grounds, then that could also mean that these holy shrine grounds were keeping watch over her.

"The fourth victim, the fourth mummy, is Kanguu Misago-chan. Of course, she's a member of Naoetsu High's girls' basketball team, and one of the two that had 'gone missing'—so, Koyomin, your information gathering was not in vain, in the sense that we were able to link it to an early detection."

In that sense, it happened just as we expected. It wasn't exactly comforting—but we'd managed to find one whose location had been unknown, in the form of a mummy.

"Where was she found? Was she in a location even harder to find than the shack that the third mummy and second victim, Kuchimoto-chan, was found?"

If that wasn't the case, then it was possible to infer that the crime had taken place tonight—if she had still been alive before tonight, then it meant that she had to have been mummified during the period when Suicidemaster had an alibi.

Because a mummy was something that had failed to become a vampire, there wasn't exactly an estimated time of death—she wasn't alive, but she wasn't dead, either.

However, although it was a bit strange to find it disappointing, the fourth mummy, Kanguu-chan, was in fact found in a location "harder to find than that shack".

"It was at the bottom of a reservoir. The mummy had been weighted down and submerged at the bottom of the water. Unless you were searching on the assumption that there's a high probability of a victim that hasn't been found, well, it wasn't a place that would have easily been found."

It wasn't a place that would have easily been found—a terrible location.

I could feel the malice.

Or, rather... Even if Suicidemaster's alibi couldn't be established, "attacking a high school girl and sinking her in a reservoir" did not exactly feel like the crime of a vampire.

If the criminal had broken into her room and attacked her in her sleep, or left a signature, or anything like that, then it was still possible for me to say that it very much held an oddity-like nature... But, the bottom of a reservoir?

That was like throwing a human into the Blood Pond Hell.

Not to mention—while she was alive.

It was a huge deviation from Shinobu, or Suicidemaster as had been depicted by "Princess Beauty"—it was the spiteful, narrow, and extremely ordinary way of thinking one would expect from a human.

Or perhaps they had gotten some inspiration?

Influenced by Princess Acerola, who invited even a treasonous person like me to heaven in order to revive Suicidemaster, perhaps the death-prepared, death-inevitable, death-certain vampire was trying to provoke the theory that she wasn't the culprit?

"Of course, even though she'd been submerged in water, she didn't 'revert' or anything."

Gaen-san glanced in the direction of Suicidemaster's sleeping form—what had been placed upon her revived naked body was no longer my jacket, but instead the white clothing taken from Hachikuji's wardrobe. And that, somehow, increased her aura of death.

Well, it could be a simple seal by Gaen-san to keep her from suddenly going on a rampage when she woke up... Although, if that was the case, it would be strange that Shinobu didn't say anything in particular about her "old pal" having been sealed, simple as it was.

"...At this rate, should we assume that the last club member has also been mummified in secret somewhere?"

"It doesn't seem like there's room for optimism. It's not like it will end with the fifth victim, either."

The fifth victim—Kiseki Souwa-chan.

Right now, they were probably out using all their strength to search for her...

"If it were me, I'd bury her in the ground. To make it even harder to find her."

Hachikuji suddenly and nonchalantly unveiled her gruesome deduction—though, no matter how gruesome it was, it was a possibility that had to be considered.

"Yes. I believe that it's highly possible. Or rather, when I took Suicidemaster into my care, her situation was more or less something like that."

"...Was she buried in the ground?" Shinobu asked doubtfully.

"In the ground, or rather, in the mountain," responded Hachikuji. "In this mountain, that is. Rather than having been buried, it's possible that she'd dug herself in on her own. Mummies can be like that, after all."

Hmm... Well, rituals such as burying oneself in the ground and becoming a mummy have been seen in many places since ancient times.

"I can't agree to that reasoning. In the first place, if a vampire wanted to hide a corpse to destroy evidence, there would be no better place to hide it than in their own belly."

It was a rather composed opinion coming from Shinobu.

Really, coming from Shinobu.

No, she seemed a little unhappy, but that may be because she was offended at having been left out of the loop so far. She didn't seem like she was particularly trying to protect Suicidemaster in any way.

The worst-case scenario—that she would take Suicidemaster's side and end up in another heated confrontation against Gaen-san and the other experts... But right now, any signs that she would do such a thing seemed virtually nonexistent. ...Why?

Is it because she knew?

Knew that there was no need to cover for her—was she as convinced of Suicidemaster's innocence as her predecessor, Princess Acerola, was?

"Well, I'd like to come back and hear about the relationship between Hachikuji-chan and Suicidemaster later, but for now, I have something I want to tell Koyomin."

Gaen-san smoothly returned to the main topic—she made a great MC for someone like me who got easily distracted.

Well, I wanted to hear not just Hachikuji's opinion but also Shinobu's opinion later, but of course, those would not prove Suicidemaster's innocence by themselves.

In the first place, once we put aside the premise that bloodsucking is not a sin for vampires, there's no guarantee that the missing high school girl won't be swallowed whole when her blood is sucked.

As I thought about that...

"Something you want to tell me?" I asked, repeating her words. I didn't have any idea what she could be talking about, it seemed to have been a perfectly natural continuation for Gaen-san.

"A code."

She said.

"Where the fourth mummy, Kanguu Misago-chan, was discovered, just like when the third mummy, Kuchimoto Kyoumi-chan, was discovered, a code had been left behind—and it's not clear if it's what you called a living message, or if it's the signature of the vampire."

022

Aha, so that was why I hadn't been fired. That emotional-sounding reason of "faith" hadn't necessarily been a lie, but more realistically speaking, I'd been given the okay to stay in the investigation squad to handle the cryptanalysis.

Thank you, Meniko! Hooray for friends!

My strength as a human did go up from making friends!

...I wasn't sure if such a flippant change in policy was okay, but regardless, the message (or signature) that had been left behind by Kanguu-chan (or the vampire) was as follows.

"820/280/610/160"

Perfect for a mathematics major.

Well, not for me, but for Meniko, was what I meant. But it was a code made up of purely numbers, without any letters mixed in like last time.

Four numbers.

Could the fact that exactly four mummies had been discovered be some sort of key?

Did it have to do with prime numbers again? No, with all of them being even numbers, and all of them ending in zero, they definitely weren't prime numbers...

"That reminds me, if you're considering this a signature, then I believe Suicidemaster doesn't even know what prime numbers are."

And neither do I, said Shinobu brusquely from beside me—I wasn't exactly thrilled by her cavalier attitude, but it was a certainly a far cry from the time with Shishirui Seishirou, when she had refused to even join the discussion.

Could this also be considered a change in policy.

Thinking about it, since Shinobu was no longer a pure oddity, change was now something that was allowed for her—it was no longer something that would cause her to be extinguished.

It wasn't so strange to think that the little girl had experienced some growth after the battle over the Demon Blade "Kokorowatari" against Shishirui Seishirou, with whom she shared a history—and though I didn't know what she thought about what I'd just thought, but Gaen-san spoke up.

"Yep. The truth is, I didn't suspect Suicidemaster as much as I might have implied. It was just that, with a code like that being found, we certainly couldn't ignore her as the prime suspect," she said, agreeing to what Shinobu said.

It was a retraction of her previous statement that I'd thought was unthinkable for Gaen-san—or no, I guess it wasn't. In the first place, Gaen-san had never actually told me that Suicidemaster was a suspect.

It was most likely that she didn't have the conviction.

"Then, what sort of vampires are the other suspects assumed to be like?"

The culprit was undoubtedly a vampire, at least.

And even though she was more like the dregs of a vampire, Shinobu was still technically a potential suspect.

"I won't name anybody specific, but I can think of a few beings that might want to pin the crime on Suicidemaster."

"Pin—the crime?"

No.

Whether or not it's a crime for vampires to suck blood was a different matter entirely—was it wrong for lions to eat people?

It was a theme I'd touched upon in my conversation with Princess Acerola.

"If they could set up the renowned Suicidemaster as the imaginary culprit, then they'll be able to safely go around sucking blood—there could be a vampire that thinks that way."

For that purpose, they went and turned Suicidemaster herself into a mummy?

Then, assuming "B777Q" was indeed a signature, then that signature was a fake signature? Then Suicidemaster wouldn't have to know what prime numbers were for things to make sense.

Because it was a fake signature left by someone else.

"That goes for if it was a living message, too. Let's say the vampire had went up to the high school girls and claimed, 'I am the death-prepared, death-inevitable, death-certain vampire, Deathtopia Virtuoso Suicidemaster'—then the probability that the victims would want to leave that name behind is pretty high, wouldn't you say?"

"Mm..."

She was right. I should've put more thought into it than just being satisfied at cracking the code... Not that I had cracked the code with my own power to begin with.

However, when she put it that way, I couldn't deny that it felt like a bit of a letdown. Because then, for what reason had I been keeping watch over Shinobu?

"Well, in the end, I got to descend to hell again, so it's fine."

"As if that could be fine!" retorted Shinobu.

Well, to be precise, I'd actually ascended to heaven, but things would get more convoluted if I brought that up now—it was hard to figure out how exactly I would tell Shinobu about "Princess Beauty".

So at present, the story was that I had taken some of the soup from the Blood Pond Hell into my mouth, and somehow managed to revive a second time—not the princess's saliva.

Well, whether it was heaven or hell, with the way I made Shinobu and Hachikuji cry, it really wasn't acceptable to die in such a casual, easygoing way.

It was something that Ougi-chan had harshly pointed out—continuing to die and revive was certainly risky. Above risk, and beyond risk.

I could stray off the path again.

As a punishment to myself, let's swear to go and visit Oikura at her new lodgings.

"However, unlike Shinobu-chan, Suicidemaster is not a vampire that has been certified as harmless, so even if she turns out to be innocent in this case, she will still be targeted by specialists for extermination. Well, I'm a part of the moderate faction, so I won't do something like that—but it was fortunate that I didn't call Episode over for this case."

Episode, huh.

It was true that, if Episode had been called to this town like with the case of Shishirui Seishirou, then it could have turned into a reproduction of last spring break—in that sense, it was Gaen-san's usual foresight, but there was one thing we shouldn't forget.

With that foresight of hers, Gaen-san had called for Kagenui-san.

For that violent onmyouji, the term "moderate" was even less appropriate than the term "gothic lolita"—the only human weapon in the industry, capable of beating even immortal oddities to death.

"That isn't really something I want to think about."

Gaen-san crossed her arms behind her head, speaking as if escaping from reality.

"However, when push comes to shove, I'm sure her power—her violence—will be necessary in the end. If I could go and call Tadatsuru now, then maybe he could cancel her out, but unfortunately he's always off on his own."

In any case, it seemed there was no change in the fact that the safest course of action was to resolve the matter before Kagenui-san arrived.

But anyway... The code.

If it was the victim that had left it, then was Kanguu-chan also a fan of Ellery Queen? Well, with two people belonging to the same club, it wasn't impossible for them to have a sense of solidarity in reading the same mystery author...

Though it was hard to believe they would leave such an elaborate dying message (living message) unless they were huge fans—if this code were to be solved, would it also end up being "D/V/S", or something pointing to "Deathtopia Virtuoso Suicidemaster"?

Or did it lead to a completely different answer... I couldn't say anything yet. But if possible, I wanted to get as much data as I could for decoding before relying on Meniko again.

"Under what circumstances was this code discovered? You said that Kanguu-chan's mummy was found submerged in a reservoir... How exactly had the code been left in the water?"

Had she written it with her finger at the bottom? Something like that would probably have gotten messed up while pulling the mummy out of the water...

There do exist writing implements that can be used in water, but I didn't think a high school girl would use those normally like they would with flash cards.

"As expected, Koyomin, you sure are discerning. As expected of a pro of high school girls."

"I'm not a pro of high school girls. Huh, what exactly did I discern?"

"The message was indeed left with a tool that a high school girl would normally use... Her cell phone."

"Her cell phone? No, but in the water—"

Wait.

My cell phone wasn't like that, but there did exist some tough models of cell phones that were completely waterproof—they were fine even when submerged in water, and as long as there was no problem with water pressure, they would be just as functional underwater as they were on land.

"The code was displayed on the screen. At first, I thought she was trying to make a call for help at the bottom of the water, and ran out of power before she could dial, but it didn't make sense as a telephone number, and they weren't area codes—so, I wondered if it was a message. A code."

"820/280/610/160"

Well, it definitely seemed more like a code than a telephone number.

Hachikuji must have been reminded of it from the cell phone, because she spoke up.

"In Gaen-san's time, didn't you and your friends use pagers to send each other these kinds of codes?" she said.

It was a bit uncalled-for.

Even though I'd thought the same, I'd kept my mouth shut considering Gaen-san's age was unknown.

"Ha ha ha. Even in my time, pagers were no longer being used. Hachikuji-chan, please do not forget that whether or not you can continue to be a god depends on how far I am willing to go."

"Eep!"

Hachikuji went pale at the influential person exerting her influence. She was weak to adversity.

This part of Hachikuji meant she could never become like Chinou-chan.

"W-wait a minute, Araragi-san. If you put it like that, it makes it sound like I started out after that loser..."

"If you really want to act like a senpai, you should make way for the next generation. Isn't it about time for the elderly to step aside?"

"Elderly? Out of everyone in the world, you're the last person I'd like to hear that from, Araragi-san. You could stand to learn a bit from the gallant natures of the Nonsense User or Risuka-chan."

"Risuka-chan hasn't even been completed yet!"

"Rumor has it that the final volume will be published in seventeen years."

Wasn't that still a ways off, then?

Anyway, putting aside the judging of people based on whether they came first or not... It was true that it was a pager-like code—but in that case, it meant it wasn't mathematics' time to shine. It could be a play on words.

Meniko was pretty good with puns, too, so she surely wouldn't have a tough time with this, but if there was a problem, it would be that Meniko was not in possession of any communication tools like cell phones or smartphones, despite coming from my time.

If I wanted to ask for her help, I'd have to wait until first period tomorrow—even if I wanted to meet her in person, I couldn't just go and barge in on her in the middle of the night, unlike with Oikura.

I wanted to remain a good friend, and in order to preserve that friendship, I had to draw the line.

"Understood, Gaen-san. I'll try what I can on my own, but I believe something like this should be decoded by the same person in order to provide uniform results, so would it be possible for you to wait until tomorrow morning for the solution?"

Manase University's first period started at 8 am, and Meniko was going to be there 15 minutes early. Assuming that I skip the lecture itself, we could expect to make progress by 9 in the morning.

"Is your new friend a clock or what? But, well, I'll be counting on you. I may know everything, but codes are a weakness of mine. Stuff like that did appear fairly often in oddity stories, but it was really Oshino-kun that was good at those—but the fact that she left the code on her cell phone is much stronger data than the fact that she left a code behind."

Because, unlike those of the previous victims, we were able to get past the lock—said Gaen-san with a smile. It was a smile that showed the true potential of the authority of cell phones (and not pagers).

"With this, I've been able to get my hands on the victim's personal information—since I had to come rushing all the way over here to help you, Koyomin, I haven't had the chance to analyze it yet, but I'm expecting lots of information."

She was putting pressure on me every time.

But still, while I knew it was necessary, it didn't really feel right or ethical to search through someone's cell phone. And I couldn't honestly say I was looking forward to having to peek further into the darkness of the girls' basketball team.

"Anyway, my detailed disclosure of information ends here. Next, shall we hear the long-awaited details from Hachikuji-chan?"

I doubted that the information that Gaen-san held had truly been fully disclosed, but I decided to let it go and turned to face Hachikuji.

I was interested in the code, but there was something I was even more interested in—how exactly had the mummified little girl ended up under the custody of the god of this town?

What did she mean when she said that Suicidemaster's mummy had been buried in the mountain?—emergency lifesaving had been the utmost priority when we first arrived here, so there were still tons of things I didn't get.

If she didn't explain this now, I would have gone to heaven in vain.

"It was partly because it was an emergency, but also because I'd been told not to talk about it, so I'd put off explaining it to Araragi-san... But I guess I can't keep quiet when you're all looking at me like this."

I shall renounce my right to remain silent and exercise my right to speak out.

That was what the new god said, with a bit of a sigh—as if such a right exists.

023

"It was about one week ago from now. As always, I'd been doing my daily routine of training under the waterfall...

"Hm? Don't lie from the very beginning, you say?

"How rude, Araragi-san. You'll never catch me in a lie or in twintails.

"Although I am in twintails.

"It's true that I was lying about training under the waterfall, but the very beginning, when I said that it was one week ago, was not a lie.

"The truth is that I was zoning out on the shrine grounds. Zoning out is my daily routine, you see.

"But then, I sensed an oddity that passed through the barrier that protects the town—I'm sure I don't need to explain, but just in case, if you happened to forget, I'll give you a quick overview. This barrier had originally been set up by Oshino Ougi-san to repel Oshino Meme-san or Kagenui Yozuru-san from this town, before being recycled.

"Thinking about it now, setting up barriers is a strong point of those two, so using a barrier to keep them out is the kind of irony you would expect from Oshino Ougi-san. But it was a good thing that we could recycle it and use it for peace in this town—of course, it was not me, but the resourcefulness of the outstanding specialist over there, Gaen Izuko, that was responsible.

"Even if you tell me not to butter up to influential people...

"In my case, it's my life that's at stake—or perhaps it's not my life, but my duty? Anyway, as it turned out, the oddity that came at that time was none other than the death-prepared, death-inevitable, death-certain vampire, Deathtopia Virtuoso Suicidemaster.

"Don't make a face as if I should flub it a little. Do you think I should say something like, sorry, I didn't flub it?

"Well, I had no intention of letting down my guard just because she looked to be a child of six years old, but I didn't sense any threats coming from her. Or rather, when Suicidemaster landed on shrine grounds, she showed such concern that she went out of her way to avoid me.

"And because she was going out of her way to avoid me, she messed up her landing and broke into pieces—ahahaha.

"It's not a laughing matter, you say? Yes, you're right. After all, she ended up dying once then and there.

"Although, since she was a vampire, she quickly regenerated.

"Somehow or other, it seems I've died again—was what she said. I wonder if that was her pet saying, something like a catchphrase?

"It was like she really was the death-certain vampire, and it wasn't a bluff or just putting on airs, because she seemed used to death—is that what vampires' immortal natures are like?

"Anyway, when she revived, she told me about the reason for her visit—she might have mistaken me for immigration control or something. You know. I kind of give off that impression, don't you think?

"So, when I asked her about the purpose of her visit to Japan in a formal manner, she said, 'I came to see my old friend, Kissshot Acerolaorion Heartunderblade'—although, before she even said it, I'd already guessed that she was someone related to Shinobu-san after seeing that brilliant blond hair.

"However, after the case with Shishirui Seishirou-san, I couldn't just greet her with a warm welcome just because she knew Shinobu-san. Just as Gaen-san said, vampires are threatening oddities in their own right.

"But, considering I was originally the lost child of a snail, it would have been strange for me to deny her entry to the country just because she was an oddity.

"With Suicidemaster having come to meet her 'old pal', I didn't have any particular reason to turn her away.

"It didn't seem as if she was lying.

"More than anything, after being asked for directions, I couldn't just not show her the way. Because that's the kind of god I am—my role is to act as a guide for lost children.

"Without mentioning Shinobu-san's current state, I sent her off—and after that, I believed I'd been able to help realize their heartwarming reunion.

"But, one week later. Today.

"Well, it's already yesterday.

"I ended up discovering the visitor that had turned into a mummy and been cruelly buried in the mountain."

024

Afterwards, it would have led to her panicking and calling us over through Ononoki-chan.

It had been a bit of a mystery why Ononoki-chan had suddenly appeared at that point, but apparently, when Ononoki-chan had made a mistake and been in trouble, Hachikuji had come to help her out, so this was returning the favor... It was hard to believe that Ononoki-chan could make a mistake at all, but it was hard to delve into that in front of Gaen-san.

"I see, I see. So that ancient vampire had already come to this town one week ago. Breaking through the barrier... Hmm."

Gaen-san spoke as if slowly digesting Hachikuji's words.

"Yes. For more details, please read the short story 'Mayoi Welcome'. It's a story that's particularly difficult to obtain, but I believe the short stories will be collected in a book in seventeen years, so please wait warmly."

"I can't wait that long!"

It's a case we need to settle by today or tomorrow!

Or rather, if we were still going to be doing stuff like this seventeen years from now, that in itself was a problem. We needed to seriously consider our future.

"Well, that was all within the range of my expectations. Including the reason for her visit," said Gaen-san.

Indeed.

Though there was a difference in class, Suicidemaster and Shishirui Seishirou had indeed come for the same reason, with Shinobu as the cause, or perhaps the incentive—no.

That might not be it.

In Shishirui Seishirou's case, the reason he'd come to see Shinobu had been related to the Demon Blade "Kokorowatari"—but in Suicidemaster's case, the reason she'd come to see Shinobu hadn't come up in Hachikuji's story earlier.

For six hundred years, they had never once met, so why now? After all this time?

Without that clarity, we couldn't be too careful... From what I could remember of my conversation with Princess Acerola, there didn't seem to be a twisted reason like with Shishirui Seishirou, though...

However, even if she hadn't come to hurt Shinobu, there was still a possibility that she was planning on pulling Shinobu back into the fold and conspiring with her on something untoward.

Presumably, even this was all "within the range of her expectations", but Gaen-san continued like so.

"However, I'm more interested in the fact that she—broke through the barrier. Well, I didn't think she'd be able to come to this town without Hachikuji knowing, but... How should I put it? I never expected that she would come right in from the front."

Being a vampire, there would be plenty of ways to enter, like turning into mist or hiding in the shadows—said Gaen-san.

"'Tis true that landing on top of a mountain from such a big jump is the horseplay of a show-off—the height of folly," said Shinobu.

And whose mouth was that coming from?

Do you want to be shut up?

Not to mention that Suicidemaster had been sensible enough to try and avoid Hachikuji (putting aside how we should judge the fact she had died once as a result)—and because of those evasive actions, it seemed Hachikuji had placed a certain amount of faith in her and allowed her entry to the town.

"But if you ask me, Shinobu-chan, such a flashy and flamboyant way of appearing is what makes Suicidemaster, Suicidemaster, and that's what I've heard from the rumors as well. But, as for the reason she managed to pass through the barrier—"

Huh? Wasn't that just because she was a powerful vampire? It didn't seem like it would be too hard for her to break it down by force, whether it was a barrier or hell itself.

"Well, perhaps. That's something we can figure out by questioning the person herself—we won't let the special remedy you brought back from the next world after your solitary struggle go to waste, Koyomin. We'll make sure to do a proper interrogation."

By saying "the next world" instead of "hell", it could've technically included heaven, making me feel as if she'd completely seen through me—it really felt like she was the senior of Oshino, who'd been a master at seeing through people.

"If we were to make a hypothesis based on what's most likely at this point, it would mean that Suicidemaster was sent off by Hachikuji-chan and headed out for the town, but before meeting Shinobu-chan, she began to cause all these incidents for some reason—and then she turned into a mummy for some reason. How perplexing."

"How perplexing indeed."

It really was.

It was probably best to partition the two "for some reason"s and think of them separately—thinking of the former from an ecological standpoint, then illogical as it was to attack only members of the girls' basketball team, if you simply thought of it as a vampire's picky eating, we could ignore that question.

The problem was the second question.

Why would the former master, who was supposed to be here to Shinobu, be found buried in the ground? And, if it weren't for Hachikuji, the god who rules over this town, and if it weren't for Hachikuji, who lives on this mountain, then it would have been a cover-up that would not have been so easily discovered.

They could have pinned the crime on her—

For that reason, they had her die—

And with the dying messages that would pique the interest of mystery maniacs... In that case, was the true culprit a vampire that was a fan of mystery novels?

That in itself seemed like picky eating, a strange kind of favoritism.

"It's true that the only way to find out is to talk to the person herself. I have grown considerably curious, as well. It was already a shock to hear that she'd still been alive—but, my master. If you're willing to change the plot of this mystery drama into a courtroom drama, then I would like to act as the defense for the accused."

The little girl was using words she had just recently learned.

Act as the defense—Oshino Shinobu would stand on Suicidemaster's side.

Rather than being within the range of expectation, it was more like the situation that I'd feared, but before either I or Gaen-san could say anything—"After all, this fellow is not the culprit. I believe I was about to tell you this earlier, my master."

Shinobu continued.

"Right now, this fellow cannot consume anything but the food known as me."

025

The gourmet vampire's diet, unbalanced towards service a la carte rather than buffets, held more weight than Shinobu had suggested, as well as more misery than Princess Acerola had described.

It wasn't that she chose to only eat food that tasted good.

It was that she could not eat anything but food that tasted good.

It was a behavior that went completely beyond stoicism, ingrained to the point that it was impossible to fix. Suicidemaster, who had set her sights on "Princess Beauty", had starved to death many times as a result.

"I don't remember much about those times anymore, but I could tell that Suicidemaster was growing weaker and weaker right before my very eyes—she was transforming into a little girl. Regressing into the form of a very cute little girl—even though she had originally been a fierce, bewitching, older woman, older than me at my complete form."

"Older woman—"

"Koyomin. The fact that you looked at me in response to the term 'older woman' is something this onee-san won't forget when she does become an older woman."

It was a bit of an emotional reaction from the onee-san with a usually laid-back personality.

"If you want, Koyomin, now that you're nineteen. Do you want me to use my tricks to completely crush everything you hold dear? Do you want me to utterly destroy your interpersonal relationships, Koyomin?"

Scary! You don't need to get that mad.

What's wrong with an older woman?

Especially a fierce, bewitching, older woman.

"As far as I can tell, she's regressed even further since I saw her last—as expected. After taking in the blood of 'Princess Beauty', the blood of another human being would end up being thinner than water."

I surmised that the reason Shinobu's memories were hazy was because "Princess Beauty" had been separated from her and had ascended to heaven—but I knew what she was saying.

I had been made to carry only her saliva, not her blood, but even with that, I didn't know what would have happened if I had swallowed it—

"If Suicidemaster had been conscious, she surely would not have even drank the wondrous blood from the Blood Pond Hell, either."

Shinobu had said the same thing as Princess Acerola, but in fact, I didn't think the medicine from the Blood Pond Hell would even have worked.

At the very least, that was what the princess had predicted.

The princess, who had driven her, the picky eater, towards anorexia—had said she'd altered the ecosystem.

The ecosystem—the thanatosystem.

It was like how dogs, who had originally been carnivores, had turned into omnivores after living with humans—or like koalas, who became able to eat the poisonous eucalyptus trees—or pandas, who only eat bamboo, which has low nutritional value.

"Hm...? But wait a minute. Would the blood from the Blood Pond Hell have suited Suicidemaster's taste, even if she wasn't conscious...? Could the blood that my master fed to Suicidemaster perhaps have been...?"

Uh-oh.

Shinobu was starting to be perceptive in a way she hadn't been before—even Hachikuji, who'd been the one to come up with that treatment, seemed to make a face as if saying, "That's right, isn't it?"

I guess I had no choice. This wasn't the time to be worrying about timing—in order to reinforce Shinobu's theory, it was time to jump in and talk about my post-death experience.

"What are you talking about, Shinobu-chan! There's no way Koyomin would lie about something like that, to his eternal partner Shinobu-chan and close friend Hachikuji-chan! Or are you implying that Koyomin is trying to deceive you two!?"

Gaen-san interrupted with quite the unnecessary and exaggerated follow-up—please act more detached about these things, I'm begging you.

I'd only stayed quiet because I missed the timing to speak, but it was quickly becoming an established fact that I was intentionally deceiving them.

Don't force me to be indebted to you!

"That's true." "I suppose that's true."

They had more faith in me than I was expecting.

Faith was coming from all sides.

Well, it would mean having to bring up Hachikuji's mistake, plus, even if the right timing were to come along, the story of meeting Shinobu's predecessor wasn't something I could tell easily...

Shinobu got back to her main point.

"Therefore, I believed that she would have long since perished by now, but I suppose she's made it this far thanks to the quality of my blood. I'm surprised that she's still alive and well, even though her form has become smaller and younger—and so, I cannot think for a moment that Suicidemaster is going around the town binge drinking the blood of high school girls."

If I had to decide what the most unreliable thing in the world was, it would be Shinobu's assertions, but as for this particular assertion, it had a certain persuasiveness to it.

Despite the unavoidable fact that there weren't very many witnesses who could testify to the events of six hundred years ago, even Gaen-san seemed to agree.

"I see. Well, that's testimony worth taking into account," she said, nodding.

Nodding without a whiff of animosity. What a laid-back onee-san.

"The master of the 'Castle of Corpses', Deathtopia Virtuoso Suicidemaster—in contrast to her notoriety, she's a peculiar vampire with not many of her victims being heard of, even in rumors. That unbalanced peculiarity was what made her so notorious—but I feel like I understand the reason now. The food that suited her taste—the food that fell victim to her—it was just too rare."

But it wasn't enough evidence to deny the possibility that her rare food had ended up being Japanese high school girls, so the suspicion on Suicidemaster hadn't been completely cleared yet.

At least until we heard directly from her.

"'There are two reasons why you can't eat something. Because you like it, and because you hate it'—that's what they say."

"You're acting like that's some oft-said cliche, but Hachikuji, whose words are those?"

"They're my words."

"Of course."

You were more looking forward to saying "They're my words", weren't you.

"You can say the same thing in reverse, too. 'There are two reasons why you want to eat something. Because you like it, and because you hate it'—Hachikuji-chan's words."

"Wow! You're going to give me the credit? Gaen-sama, you are a god!"

You're the one who's a god.

As expected from the head of a group of specialists full of eccentrics and weirdos, her mind control techniques had reached a level where she could take control of a god.

However, whether or not Suicidemaster was being set up as the culprit behind the serial bloodsucking incidents, Shinobu's testimony had created an unexpected new possibility.

The progenitor who had birthed and named her—the death-prepared, death-inevitable, death-certain vampire—why, after all this time, after six hundred years, had she come to visit the iron-blooded, hot-blooded, cold-blooded vampire?

After starving and becoming weak.

After reaching her limit.

Could she have come to feed on her 'old pal', the only food she could eat?

026

Afterwards, we greeted the sunrise with no particular progress having been made—no report came to Gaen-san about the discovery of the fifth mummy, Kiseki Souwa-chan, and neither did any report about the discovery of a 'true culprit' that wasn't Suicidemaster.

If there was any consolation, it would be that we also hadn't received any reports of other, unexpected victims being discovered, or of Gaen-san's collaborators being attacked, either—so the investigation was back to square one.

"The sun may have risen, but Suicidemaster will most likely completely recover by nightfall, as expected. Until then, this onee-san will come up with a new plan of action based on the newly discovered information... But nevertheless, during the day, it'll be the same as yesterday. Gather as much information as we can."

"I'll be in charge of the living message left by Kanguu-chan."

"The living message maybe left behind by Kanguu-chan, or the signature maybe left behind by the culprit, or the diversion maybe left behind by the culprit while pretending to be Suicidemaster, that is. In other words, in charge of the code—meanwhile, I'll be analyzing the cell phone that we found that code in. I'll be taking a look into the darkness of these girls and their club activities."

"Please take care that you don't get swallowed up by that darkness."

It wasn't the kind of advice you would give to an adult who's seen the best and the worst of life, but I couldn't help but say it—well, there's no way Gaen-san was thinking something so cute and pure as the thought that "all children are cute and pure".

"I may be a little late in doing so, but I will go and patrol around the town. After all, I'm the god of lost children, and the god of walks."

Allow me to assist in the investigation from the point of view of a god, said Hachikuji—she probably was just looking forward to saying "the point of view of a god", but she probably couldn't act neutral anymore after the suggestion that the oddity she let in from overseas was potentially causing harm to the town.

Rather than being in a dilemma between humans and oddities, it was more like having Hachikuji work as the ferryman between humans and oddities.

Up until now, everyone's assignments had turned out as expected, but then,

"During the day, I'll be going to sleep,"

Said Shinobu.

"When it becomes night, I shall cooperate. It will probably be better if I were there when we listen to Suicidemaster's story—if you want, I can take charge of the interrogation."

"—Then, I'll leave it to you."

Gaen-san did not bother questioning why the sealed oddity was being so cooperative—and that was good.

Rather, she approved the appointment with a terse reply before Shinobu could change her mind—when interrogating a vampire under suspicion, the presence of her old acquaintance was the best we could ask for.

However, the possibility that I'd thought of just a moment ago—the possibility that Suicidemaster had come to eat Shinobu. With that in mind, wouldn't it be dangerous for Shinobu to be there...?

In any case, I couldn't go against the leader's decision. Don't forget, Shinobu and Hachikuji and I were 'Team Failure', after all.

If we made any more blunders, we could end up having our harmless certification be revoked, or deposed from the godly seat—if "Team Failure" sounded bad, then let's say we're "Team Probation".

If we didn't show Gaen-san what we were capable of, it would be just as dangerous.

Well, I doubted that Shinobu offered to help Gaen-san because of such fussy calculations (since Shinobu couldn't plot things anyway)...

It was a delicate matter, so I decided to talk to her about it when we were alone.

"Then, I'm about to head straight to school without dropping by at home, but where should we meet afterwards? Since we're talking about deciphering the code, it might be better to explain it directly, like yesterday."

If it turned out to be a code where I'd need diagrams or figures to explain it, then it would certainly be hard to explain it verbally over the phone.

"Then, let's meet up at Naoetsu General Hospital. I'll introduce you to the fourth mummy, Kanguu Misago-chan."

It wasn't like we could shake hands even if she were to be introduced to me, but still, I suppose it would be good to see her directly...

If I only thought of victims of oddity phenomena in terms of numbers, I would be no better than that con man who only thinks in terms of money.

"With four victims having been discovered, it's getting tougher to manipulate the flow of information. Even this onee-san that knows everything has limits to her barrier that can hide everything. The incident has gotten convoluted, but no matter what the truth is, we're going to have to settle this by tonight."

It's gonna be a ruckus—said Gaen-san.

But the reason for hurrying to resolve this issue was more than just because it would be a ruckus... There was the sense of justice of wanting to not have any more victims, but it was more than that.

If, by tomorrow morning, the series of incidents had not been resolved.

Kagenui-san would arrive.

027

I'm sorry to say this after having been the one to call her in, but if I'd known in advance that the famous Deathtopia Virtuoso Suicidemaster was involved, then I wouldn't have called that living bomb here at all—was what Gaen-san had lamented, which I recalled as I gripped the steering wheel of my New Beetle, heading for Manase University.

"That lady must have been looking for an opportunity to bring back her cute junior from the North Pole, is what I feel," said Shinobu, appearing in the passenger seat.

She appeared in the child seat that had been placed there.

Since Shinobu was a mere shadow of a former vampire, while she wasn't exactly at her best in the sunlight, it wasn't like it could completely stop her in her tracks... She wasn't strictly nocturnal, just more of a night person.

With a strong will, she was capable of appearing even in the daytime... In other words, if she was out and about in the daytime, that means she currently had a strong will.

"What is it, Shinobu. Weren't you asleep?"

I tried probing into her intentions.

"I'll go to sleep soon. Before that, I figured that you had something you wanted to ask me, my master."

She'd seen right through me, as if this were a competition with Gaen-san.

No, perhaps this was our empathic link—from our master-servant relationship.

Our deeply entrenched relationship.

"Well, I was just thinking that you were being pretty cooperative. Cooperative not just towards me, but towards Gaen-san as well. Even though you refused to cooperate last time."

Rather than just refusing to cooperate, she'd gone and run away. Completely rebellious—I'd already explained that this time she'd been kept out of the loop because Gaen-san had been wary of her doing the same thing again.

"What's with the change of heart? Can I just understand it as you having grown up a bit since that incident? Grown up to the point that I shouldn't have bought that child seat?"

"The size was never right from the beginning! It feels like my entire body is being bound like feet. Yes, well, it's fine to think of it like that. I've grown up a bit. I learned that, at that time, I should've just listened to you and that administrator from the very beginning."

I'd be happy if it was true, and it probably wasn't all lies, but something didn't quite add up.

"You and I are in the same boat, two hearts beating as one. With you having changed, I've changed a bit as well. The me that had a high schooler as a partner and the me that had a college student as a partner may as well be different people."

"It's true that before, you used to sit in the front basket of my bicycle, and now you're sitting in a child seat."

"You can't really call that growth... No, well, that's fine, too."

Was it fine?

It did feel like she'd mellowed out a little by not being stubborn at these times, but for whatever reason it felt like she'd gotten harder to handle.

Like she was just nodding along.

Sloppily.

"Hey, Shinobu. You're not thinking about anything weird, right?"

"Weird? Of course I am. Do you think there'd be someone who could preserve their sanity after being placed in a child seat when they're 599 years old?"

"You're not thinking about something admirable like, getting yourself eaten by Suicidemaster or anything?"

Just as I had done during that spring break when I was seventeen.

Or perhaps, just as Princess Acerola had done for Suicidemaster at the time, six hundred years ago—

"Ka ka. I was wondering what you were going to say, but that came as a shock. I've never even thought about doing something like that, right up until this very moment—you're the one thinking about something weird, my master. What I was thinking was, if we put you in girls' clothes and fed you to Suicidemaster, would that make her better, or would it just make her regress further, becoming around four years old?"

"Why would she turn four years old after eating me. And don't put me in girls' clothes. Once was enough."

"Enough to become a habit?"

"I haven't done it once since then!"

Without that onee-san to keep things on track, the conversation kept straying.

Such sloppy chatter.

"As soon as that code pointed to Suicidemaster's involvement, you should've relied on me from the beginning. If you did that, then we might have been able to settle this last night. You'd better reflect on yourself—you've forgotten your promise not to keep secrets about oddities from me."

"If my memory serves me right, that promise was something I made to my girlfriend..."

Hmm.

It was hard to keep the conversation going smoothly if she kept making me laugh... Well, it wasn't just Shinobu's fault.

It was at least better than when she didn't even talk to me, but after having had so many meaningless conversations with Shinobu, it was difficult to have a serious conversation with her.

If I were to speak without any fear of being misunderstood—if Shinobu were to follow the precedent set by me and decide to be eaten by Suicidemaster, who was reaching the limit of being a little girl, then I might even say that I'd prefer if she betrayed humans and joined the culprit of the serial bloodsucking incidents. But it was nearly impossible to say that without any fear of being misunderstood.

I wasn't as fastidious as I was in high school, either.

I couldn't just dismiss the act of a vampire attacking a human as something that was evil—I could no longer tell a dying vampire to die for eating people, as I did back then.

After getting to tolerate the existence of Ononoki-chan, a line like that would make me grit my teeth, if not make me want to pull my tongue out.

It was the assertion of a seventeen-year-old youth that could only have said it at that time, at that timing—but if you were to ask if I had a different answer now, then that wasn't the case either.

Hanekawa, who'd been seventeen years old at the time, had said that being afraid of vampires eating humans was like saying you felt sorry for cows or pigs—the middle-aged Oshino had said it was the same as being disillusioned by a kitty eating a mouse.

Well, that was probably true.

However, Princess Acerola's opinion in heaven added another layer to it—she'd said that the relativization of talking about vampires as the same as lions or bears was not quite correct.

To arrive at such a state of mind... It was impossible for a college freshman like me.

Compared to those days, I'd become much more mature, for better or for worse, but I would never become a sage or a hero.

It would probably be impossible in my lifetime.

"Well, don't worry about it too much, Shinobu. When Suicidemaster-chan wakes up, the first thing we can do is recommend Mister Donut. She might get a taste for sweets."

"That in itself would destroy the ecosystem."

"I know, why don't we ask Oikura to make some home cooking? Oikura's lived by herself for a long time, so her cooking is surprisingly really good. Even Hitagi-san was jealous."

"Wasn't that tsundere girl actually jealous about something else?"

She shrewdly pointed it out. How piercing.

Well, Shinobu had gotten hooked on Mister Donut after she'd become a vampire no longer... But, wasn't it worth trying, as long as it didn't do any harm?

Even koalas eating the highly toxic eucalyptus leaves was a matter of survival—though perhaps different from humans eating fugu fish.

"I bet the fugu fish was shocked, though. It was probably thinking, 'Eh? There are people who would eat me!?' ...Well, you've made me think that I'd like to try that crazy girl's home cooking someday. Really, any dish prepared by a monster might be palatable to an oddity such as myself."

You're being described in a pretty cruel way, my childhood friend.

You've been recognized by the king of oddities as a real monster.

"...Even if Suicidemaster wasn't the culprit behind the serial bloodsucking this time, and even if she successfully regains consciousness this evening, will she eventually end up getting exterminated by the specialists? Even if she's not certified harmless, she doesn't have a bounty on her head like you, right?"

"That may be the case, but if we put that violent onmyouji in the mix, then it becomes a different story. That girl wields her fist with justice."

"...If you insist, I can steer the conversation towards certifying Suicidemaster as harmless, you know?"

If I gave up on that promise of noninterference until my college graduation, then I was sure Gaen-san would be willing to listen to that level of recklessness—of course, that would only work as long as she was completely innocent in the current case.

I knew it wasn't exactly easy to certify an oddity as harmless, but if you asked me, there was room for it this time—after all, Suicidemaster has caused almost no damage since she took "Princess beauty" as her thrall six hundred years ago.

That was the difference between her and Shishirui Seishirou, who'd been causing actual damage to the town in real time... At that point, that had just been a completely different risk level from lions and bears and cows and pigs and kitties, without even needing Princess Acerola to point it out for me.

It was like a virus on the level of a biohazard.

It needed to be addressed before it could be discussed.

In contrast, it wasn't clear how much damage that gourmet vampire had caused in the past, but it was six hundred years ago.

According to Japan's Criminal Procedure Code, the statute of limitations for any murder case had certainly passed—not that there was any law in this world that governed over crimes committed six hundred years ago.

It wasn't a situation where we had no choice but to exterminate her.

And this was just a coincidence, but like Shinobu, she met the condition that she was in the form of a little girl—at least on the surface, didn't she meet all the requirements to be certified as harmless?

"Ka ka. Do you want to try sealing Suicidemaster in your shadow, too? If you're going to rear two little girls in your shadow, then finally your fervent desire to create a harem would no longer be a dream."

Don't call it my fervent desire.

The Araragi Harem will never exist, past, present, and future—and don't say that I'd be rearing little girls.

If I'm not careful with my words, I could say this situation was parasitic.

"Give up. That one is not a human-turned-vampire like me, but a genuine, born vampire. Just as you have tried to remain human, she will surely try to remain a vampire—and to a true vampire, being certified as harmless would be an insult."

To be feared, shunned, and dreaded—that was an oddity.

Uncertain and odd.

"More importantly, there's something else that I absolutely needed to tell you, my master. For that reason, I put up with my drowsiness and came to fit myself tightly in this child seat."

"Thinking about it, if you really didn't like it, you could've easily just appeared in the back seat. But what is it, the thing you absolutely needed to tell me?"

"Well," said Shinobu, before pausing.

And then, she spoke, as if having resolved herself.

"When we interrogate Suicidemaster, I would like to show off in front of my old pal for our reunion after six hundred years. So for just this one night, instead of me being your slave, can we have it so that you are acting as my slave?"

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tiliamericana · 4 years ago

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Muay Thai: 1.13

“I can’t believe you’ve done this,” said Agatha acidly as Nairi held the door to the pizza place open for her.

“I’m sorry,” said Nairi, no longer feeling particularly apologetic after a week of saying nothing but. “We’ll only be here for what, an hour? And then we can go.”

She didn’t love that she was already on edge. It was hardly the first time in her life that she was deliberately sitting down to spend a couple of hours with an unpleasant man, but it was still frustrating. She liked spending time with Agatha and Linden who were only occasionally frustrating, but they tended to get tense and catty with each other, and Nairi’s teeth were aching at the thought of dealing with that on top of Simon.

Well. They were usually catty, but when not talking about relationships they could be relied on to be friendly-catty rather than terse-catty.

Linden was sitting alone at one of the tall tables near the centre of the restaurant, and she waved at them as they approached, her smile wide. “Hey guys!” she said as Nairi sat down across from her, and if her smile was fake then she at least sounded pleased—or, well, relieved, at any rate.

“No boyfriend yet?” asked Agatha archly, sitting next to Nairi with a disapproving curve to her lips as their eyes met.

“He’s running late,” said Linden, clasping her hands together in front of her and making her bracelets jingle. “Promised he’d treat me to a nice big pie and dessert to make it up to me, though!”

“Nice of him,” said Nairi, snagging a complimentary breadstick, more out of habit than hunger.

“Very,” said Agatha, inspecting a menu without looking up.

Linden’s expression faltered. “Yeah,” she said anyway.

Nairi knocked their ankles together under the table in an attempt to reassure, and Linden flashed her a grateful look, the tension across her shoulders loosening a little. “Things are going well then?” she asked, pouring herself a glass of water and pushing the jug towards Agatha, who ignored her.

“As well as they can be,” said Linden, nodding a little too much, her bracelets jingling again. “I mean, things get bumpy occasionally, but we really haven’t known each other for long in like, the grand scheme of things. We already know we like each other, so we’re just feeling everything else out as we go.”

“Oh goodie,” muttered Agatha, pushing her glasses up her nose again before setting the menu down and joining the conversation. “Nick likes this one, then?”

Linden snorted. “Simon’s not that exceptional,” she said dismissively. “Nick thinks he’s too flaky.”

Agatha glanced at her watch conspicuously. “I wonderwhy.”

Linden gave her a sharp curve of a smile, darkly amused. “Look, that might be a dealbreaker for Nick, but he’s not the one dating him. I can handle a little flakiness, and besides, he’s working on it.”

“Is he working on anything else?”

“Yes,” said Linden, looking Agatha right in the eye. “Nick told me—I promise he won’t call you that ever again, I even slapped him around a little to make it stick.”

“Right,” said Agatha, unimpressed in the face of Linden’s humour. “Because if he does then I’m just going to leave. Why does he even talk like that in the first place?”

Linden wrinkled her nose. “It’s his masters, I swear, he spends his entire time with his nose up the ass of these old school poets, and then he like, forgets that language has changed in the last eighty years? It’s really annoying, he literally called me the ‘whore of Babylon’ the other day and then got offended when I told him to fuck off because I ‘didn’t get the compliment’.”

Nairi snorted.

“Oh! Such a catch! I suddenly understand why you’re so determined to make this relationship work,” drawled Agatha.

“It’s a better basis for a relationship than some I could name,” said Linden snidely, narrowing her eyes across the table.

Damn, Agatha’s last boyfriend must have been a real piece of work. “There’s always going to be worse relationships out there,” said Nairi diplomatically. “And I mean, people are even meeting and dating on the internet these days, everything starts somewhere.”

“Exactly,” said Linden, relaxing a little with a grin. “That’s a bad basis, we all know the internet’s for porn and arguing with strangers.”

“And LOLcats, don’t forget those,” said Agatha, nodding at her.

“How could I?” said Linden, her grin widening.

Nairi was saved from having to ask what the fuck a ‘LOLcat’ was by Simon’s arrival. “Hello ladies,” he said breezily, draping his coat over the back of the free chair with a waft of eau-de-cigarette over the table. He leaned in and kissed Linden’s cheek from behind before sitting. “Hello babe, sorry I’m late, transport was a bit of an issue.”

“You’re fine,” said Linden, smiling indulgently at him as he sat. “Just gave us time to work up an appetite.”

Thankfully, the process of deciding on pizzas and drinks, and then the conveying all of that information to the waitress meant that Nairi didn’t have to speak directly to Simon. It also meant that he didn’t try to speak with Agatha, who was coolly ignoring him from across the table with a total lack of eye contact that veered dangerously close to the border between ‘civility’ and ‘rudeness’.

Once the food actually arrived however, she was out of luck.

Pretty much every pizza on the menu that wasn’t explicitly vegetarian had some kind of bacon or ham or pork-based sausage in its toppings, so there wasn’t any quibbling or half-and-halfing on the one Nairi was sharing with Agatha. Simon, however, had ordered without asking Linden, which she’d ignored, much the same way she’d ignored Agatha’s quiet snort at him doing so. Nairi was about ninety percent certain Linden didn’t even like green peppers.

“So,” said Simon brightly, gesturing across the table with his wine glass. “How have you two been this week? Anything exciting?”

Agatha took an enormous bite of pizza and chewed loudly, glancing at Nairi. Nairi sighed internally and lowered her own slice to answer him. “Not terribly exciting. Work, mostly.”

“That’s right,” he said, chewing obnoxiously and giving Nairi a chance to start eating. Next to him, Linden was carefully tugging peppers off the surface of her pizza. “Lindy said you did some kind of fighting thing, right? MMA? Kickboxing? Sweaty punch ups in sports bras?”

“…I teach judo,” said Nairi eventually. “Early days at my dojo, I don’t have a lot of students yet, I’m afraid. Uh, Agatha’s working on a paper at the moment though, that’s a bit more interesting.”

“Really? What’s it about?” asked Simon, turning both his attention and his chewing maw towards Agatha.

“Diatomic elements,” said Agatha shortly. “It’s just about nucleics, I’m not reinventing the wheel or anything.”

Simon stared at her blankly. “Oh, of course. Uh, I’m afraid I’m not familiar, is your field—?”

“Chemistry,” supplied Agatha, turning her attention back to her dinner. “My PhD was on inorganic, but I’m still in the process of post-doc applications so I’m mostly twiddling my thumbs and writing contributions in the meanwhile.”

“Right,” said Simon, his face showing a total lack of comprehension. “Academia’s a lot like that, terribly stiff in the paperwork and appropriateness departments. The right body of work and all that—I know exactly how it feels, I was going to do my thesis on the erotic underpinnings of Virginia Woolf’s work and the reflection of her relationship with her husband, but my advisor was really very pushy about playing it safe and sticking to Eliot’s body of work in the immediate post-war era.”

“Oh yes, much safer,” said Agatha with no inflection in her tone.

Simon laughed loudly, leaning back in his chair and taking another long drink of his wine. “You know, Lindy said you had a sense of humour, and I must confess I didn’t quite believe her at first! Mistakes all around.”

He punctuated this with a conspiratorial wink across the table at her, though Nairi didn’t quite understand what was so funny about it. At a glance, neither did Agatha or Linden. Linden actually looked… embarrassed? It was only for a second, the expression gone almost as soon as Nairi noticed it, Linden covering the bottom half of her face with her glass as she took a sip.

“So how long have you two lovebirds been dating anyway?” Simon continued, not even glancing at Linden next to him with her small pile of peppers or his ignored slice of pizza on the plate in front of him.

“A few months,” said Nairi, her own dinner looking more unappetising by the second. “Since September, I think?”

“That’s about right,” said Agatha, the lines around the corners of her eyes easing as she glanced at Nairi. “Five or six months now.”

“Charming,” said Simon, polishing off his wine, smile bright and enthusiastic as he gestured. “You know I’ve always greatly enjoyed the figure of the lesbian, in real life as well as literature. Excising the men from the bed and the home—it’s always so representative of the purest form of womanhood, really illuminates the truth of femininity. And the politics of it! The ultimate commitment to the feminist ideal, the usurpation of the patriarchy from its most foundational stronghold in the home at the head of the family. Really brilliant stuff!”

Agatha’s eyebrows were somewhere around her hairline.

Linden laughed awkwardly, nudging Simon as she leaned in a little over her plate. “Well, I mean, it’s always gonna be a bit different from books, hun. People are people, real life is always more, uh—”

“Oh yes, yes, of course,” said Simon dismissively, nodding at her. “And writers have a tendency to exaggerate and eroticise that type of relationship as well.”

“And what exactly do you mean by that kind of relationship?” asked Agatha, tone sharp.

Nairi tensed as Simon opened his mouth and started bloviating again. Linden swallowed whatever she was going to say, giving up and quietly eating instead, leaning on one elbow.

Simon’s phone buzzed loudly, and he took a second to check it while Agatha sucked down on the straw in her water glass through her furious, pinched expression.

“Oh, I’m so sorry ladies,” he said, standing up as he punched a few buttons on his phone. “I have to run. I have thoroughlyenjoyed this discussion though, especially with you Miss Davids, we’ll have to do this again sometime—”

“Doctor,” corrected Agatha.

“Oh, that’s right, very good, attagirl!” said Simon breezily as he tugged his coat on, and a muscle in Agatha’s jaw visibly twitched.

“Oh, Si, really?” said Linden, frowning at him anxiously as he kissed her cheek. “But we were gonna go get ice cream af—”

“Really?” said Simon, with a piss-poor attempt at a surprised look. “I didn’t think so, babe, I had plans. There’s no need to end the night just because I’m leaving though! You should all have some fun, I’ll see you later, and I promise I’ll catch the next cheque!”

He was already walking away as he spoke, hand raised in farewell even as Linden opened her mouth in dismay. “Wait, Si, I can’t—and he’s out. Great.” She slumped in her seat as the door swung shut across the room and gave them a glum sort of smile. “Sorry guys, I kind of thought that would go better.”

“Really?” said Agatha under her breath, covering it with the movement of setting her glass down.

Nairi ignored it. “I mean, it’s not exactly your fault—” Agatha snorted “—do you want me to grab you a pizza you actually like?”

Linden gestured at Simon’s largely untouched pizza with an eyeroll. “No, I’ll live. Already gonna have to pay for this one.”

“I’ve got it,” said Nairi, tugging her wallet out. “May as well just pay for everything while I’m up. Do you want something a bit cheesier?”

Linden looked at her for a moment, expression unreadable, and then something in her relaxed and her mouth twitched into a wry smile. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Agatha turned her head as Nairi left the table, saying something she couldn’t quite hear. Her tone sounded dry rather than snappish, so Nairi didn’t think too hard about it. She got them another round of drinks while she was sorting out the extra pizza as well—it would probably go a ways to easing Agatha’s temper and cheering Linden up.

From the looks of things when she returned to the table though, they’d managed to have an argument in the few minutes she’d been gone.

“Better food and new drinks on the way,” she said, sliding into her seat and pretending she couldn’t see the angry twist in Linden’s lips, or the clenched tension in Agatha’s hands.

“Awesome,” said Linden, flashing her a sunny, fake smile as Agatha scoffed. “You know, I was just saying to Aggy that since this turned out to be such a bust that maybe we should try having a girl’s night instead, you know? Just us, maybe with Flo too.”

“Oh yeah,” said Nairi mildly, gently pressing the back of her hand against Agatha’s on the tabletop. “What did you have in mind?”

#serial fiction #series honey tree #book muay thai #113

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tessisawriter · 6 years ago

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What Real Support Looks Like, Part 1 (Mat Barzal)

Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8

A/N: This originally started out as a happy story about Mat Barzal and Jordan Eberle’s bromance, but it turned into something far more important. I was heartened to see Jacob Trouba support his fiancé’s career to the point where he was willing to move to another country for her. For that, I deeply admire him, and I wish more hockey players would support their S/O’s like that. To everyone who reads this story: don’t let anyone tell you what you can and can’t do. Pursue your dreams no matter what. And you deserve true love, so don’t settle for anything less.

I also created a playlist of songs that have influenced me throughout the series.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, alcohol, sexism

Word Count: 2.8k

Gemma Sullivan smiled as she put the last touches of makeup on her face.

She had been dating Mat Barzal for almost two years now, and she couldn’t be happier. They were each other’s best friend, and they supported each other in everything they did. Gemma lifted him up when he had a bad game or when the Isles were losing, and Mat had been her biggest cheerleader through college and supported her career aspirations. Gemma was going to graduate from college in three months, and then apply to master’s programs to earn an MA in history. Before she could even apply, though, she had to finish her senior thesis. She just took a major step forward this morning when she handed in her full draft for her advisor to edit. Today was also her 22nd birthday, so Mat was going to take her out to a fancy restaurant to celebrate.

Honestly, Gemma was happy that the draft was done because this past month, she had been writing so much that she’d barely been able to spend quality time with Mat. She couldn’t wait to get back a semblance of normalcy, and tonight would be the beginning of that.

Gemma walked out of the bathroom and into hers and Mat’s bedroom, where her red dress was on a hanger. Red was Mat’s favorite color on her, and she bought the dress for that reason. She wanted to surprise him. Gemma slipped it on and zipped it; thank God the zipper was on the side and not the back.

She looked at the clock on the night table, and it read, to her surprise, 8:30PM. Their reservations were at 8:45, and Mat was supposed to be home at 8, so she didn’t bother setting an alarm to make sure she stayed on schedule. Was it possible that he forgot? Gemma immediately shut down that thought. There was no way he forgot; he was probably just running late from hanging out with Tito. She grabbed her heels and sat on the bed, putting each shoe on. As soon as she was done, she heard the front door open.

“Babe?” Mat called, but his voice wasn’t clear like it normally was.

“Where are you?” he called again, and when Gemma heard his staggered footsteps coming towards the bedroom, her heart dropped.

“Hey, babe, there you are!” Mat wasn’t just drunk: he was absolutely hammered. His hair was disheveled, and his eyes were glazed over. He approached the bed and gave Gemma a sloppy kiss on the top of her head, and she smelled his breath, which reeked of vodka. This kind of behavior was completely out of character for him, and she could barely believe her eyes (or her nose).

“Babe, what happened? We have dinner reservations in 15 minutes,” Gemma said, concerned.

“I was out with Tito and some of the boys,” Mat replied, “And it was totally epic!” He dissolved into a fit of hysterical laughter and stumbled into Gemma’s lap. Not wanting to smell of alcohol, she shoved him off and onto the bed next to her.

“You look so sexy. Is this all for me?” Mat asked.

“We’re supposed to go out to dinner in 15 minutes,” she repeated.

“Why?”

Gemma’s heart sunk even further.

“It’s my birthday, Mat,” she said.

“Oh yeah, I forgot.” He looked at her, expecting an answer, but she was silent, trying to keep herself from crying. Presumably to fill the silence, Mat said, “Whoops, my bad,” and started laughing again.

His laugh set Gemma off.

“You forgot? You fucking FORGOT?” she exploded. “I’m generally easygoing, but today of all days? Really?”

“Jesus, Gem, relax. We celebrated it on another day last year, so we can do it again this year.”

“Are you saying that you’re bailing on dinner tonight?” she asked.

“I’m not bailing, I’m rescheduling. It’s no big deal.”

“No big deal?” she yelled, “No big deal? Are you kidding me right now? It’s not just my birthday; I handed in my thesis draft today. But you probably forgot about that too,” she added bitterly.

“That goddamn thesis is the reason I haven’t seen you for weeks on end!” Mat yelled back. “You’re always busy writing, or reading, or whatever you’re doing. Sometimes I wish you weren’t going for your master’s.”

Gemma’s mouth dropped open. She couldn’t believe he just said that.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

His eyes widened. He must’ve known he crossed the line, but that didn’t stop him from opening his mouth again. “I don’t know, you just work so hard, and you don’t have to worry about money because I’ll take care of you.”

If Gemma wasn’t seeing red before, she was now.

“This is not just about money, Mathew. Yes, I want to be able to make some of my own money, but if I wanted to be rich, I would’ve gone into computer science or finance. I’m really passionate about history, and I need to be fulfilled intellectually. You said you understood that when we first met; you even said that you love how driven I am!”

“I do, but…”

“But what? There are no but’s. You either support my career or you don’t, and you clearly don’t, so we’re done!”

Gemma took her heels off and threw them on the floor before retrieving her backpack, overnight bag, and a pair of sneakers from the closet. She shoved the sneakers on her feet and started ransacking the drawers. As she took out essential clothing and stuffed it in her bag, Mat just sat there on the bed.

She started to zip up the bag when Mat said, “Where are you going?”

“Where am I going?” she parroted back, incredulous. “Oh, so now you care. How generous of you,” her voice dripped with sarcasm.

“This is our home,” he replied.

“No, it’s your home now,” she said with a calm and even tone that surprised her. “You promised that you would support me and my career no matter what, but you clearly didn’t mean it. Don’t bother trying to call or text because I don’t want to see you.”

And with that, she picked up her two bags, walked out of the bedroom, picked up her car keys on the table in the foyer, and opened the door, slamming it as she exited.

Gemma ran down the stairs as fast as she could. As soon as she stepped outside, she was greeted with pouring rain.

“Oh, this is just perfect!” she muttered to herself. She forgot her umbrella in the apartment, and there was no way she was going back there, so she raced to her car, hopped into the driver’s seat, and slammed the door. She threw her bags on the back seat before turning on the ignition and pulling out of the driveway.

She drove down the road to the next intersection, and after turning right, she pulled over. As soon as Gemma stopped the car, the floodgates opened. Her life was in tatters. The man who she thought would always be there for her stabbed her in the back. She felt so alone, and when she remembered that she was homeless now, she cried even harder. Where was she going to sleep tonight?

She restarted the car and began driving to the Eberle residence.

When Gemma first started dating Mat, she didn’t expect to get a best friend out of it, but that is exactly what Lauren Eberle became. Right from the start, she and Lauren hit it off due to their mutual low tolerance for bullshit, and an epic friendship was born. She had been her rock through everything, and Gemma knew that she could ask her for advice on anything, no matter how uncomfortable the subject. Lauren’s husband, Jordan, was Mat’s closest friend on the team besides Tito, and Gemma was fond of him as well. He taught her how to play the guitar.

She could only hope that now that she broke up with Mat, they would still be there for her.

Gemma came to a stop in front of Lauren and Jordan’s house less than five minutes later. It was still raining heavily outside, so she grabbed her bags and walked to the house. She already looked like a drenched rat, so why bother running?

She reached the door and rang the doorbell. When the door opened, it was, to her intense surprise, Jordan standing at the threshold. She assumed that he was with Mat and Tito when they went out.

“Gemma? Happy birthday! What are you doing here?” Jordan said.

“Thanks. I’m sorry to bother you, but is Lauren home?”

“Yeah, she’s inside. Come on in.” He held the door open wide, and she entered the house.

“Lauren, Gemma is here!” Jordan shouted, and then said to Gemma, “You’re soaking wet! You should take off your shoes and socks, they’ll make you feel even colder than you already are.”

“You’re right, thanks, Jordan,” she said, holding her tears back with great difficulty.

“No problem,” he replied, and he left as Lauren entered the foyer.

“Gemma, happy birth…” Lauren stopped talking as soon as she saw the dripping girl. “What happened?”

“Mat and I, we…we got into a fight,” Gemma started sobbing uncontrollably.

“Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry! Let’s get you some dry clothes and we can talk about it, yeah?” Lauren said.

“I brought clothes with me,” Gemma managed to choke out and gesture to her bags in between sobs.

“Let’s go get you dry.” Lauren put her arm around Gemma and led her through the house to hers and Jordan’s bedroom. Gemma opened her soaked bag and pulled out a pair of sweatpants, an old Trinity College Dublin t-shirt from her semester abroad, and a thick pair of socks. Lauren sat on the bed patiently as she went into the bathroom to change. She emerged, and the two of them walked back to the living room and settled into the couch. Gemma could see Jordan in the kitchen due to the open layout, and he was rustling through the cabinet where they kept their glasses and cups.

“What happened?” Lauren asked. “I thought you two were going to dinner to celebrate your birthday and thesis draft.”

“We were supposed to, but Mat showed up 15 minutes before our reservation completely drunk. He said he went out with Tito and some of the boys.”

“That’s odd. Jordan has been home all evening, and he generally goes with them when they go out.”

“Well, they went out without him, and Mat forgot my birthday. He said we could go out another day, and when I protested, he went on a rant about how he hasn’t seen me in weeks due to my thesis and…and…” Gemma started crying again.

Lauren put her arms around her, and Gemma sobbed into her shoulder.

“What did he say?” Lauren asked when Gemma pulled away, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

“He said that he wishes I wasn’t going for my master’s degree, and that I don’t need to have a career because he can ‘take care of me,’” she formed air quotes with her hands for emphasis.

“What the fuck?” Lauren said.

“I’m going to kick his ass when I see him tomorrow,” Jordan chimed in, walking into the living room with two mugs. He handed one to Lauren and one to Gemma, and she saw that he made tea.

“I figured you were going to be talking for a while, and you were so wet when you got here, Gem, that hot tea seemed to be in order.” Jordan said, sitting in the armchair perpendicular to the couch, giving her and Lauren a little space.

For the first time since her fight with Mat, Gemma’s heart felt warm and fuzzy.

“Thank you, Jordan. Seriously, what would I do without you? Either of you,” she said, turning to Lauren. “I’m not going to lie, I thought after I told you we broke up, you might not want me here.”

“You’re my best friend, Gem,” Lauren said, “You are always, always welcome here, and it doesn’t matter who you’re dating.”

“I second that,” Jordan interjected. “You’re like a little sister to me.”

“Guys, you’re going to make me cry again,” Gemma said, putting down her tea on the coffee table before hugging Lauren.

“We’re always going to be there for you, Gemma. You can stay in the guest room as long as you need.” Lauren said.

“I already put your bags in there,” Jordan added.

“Thank you, both of you. God, I sound like a broken record.” She laughed, and they laughed with her.

“So what happened after he said that?” Lauren asked.

“I broke up with him, took as much as I could carry, and left,” Gemma replied, and she picked up her mug and took a sip of the tea.

“I just can’t believe it. He always talks about how proud he is of you, that you’re going somewhere in life, and that he loves how passionate you are,” Jordan said. “But if he’s so threatened by you, you did the right thing breaking up with him.”

“You think he’s threatened by me?” Gemma asked.

“I don’t know what exactly his problem is, but that’s the closest thing to what you described,” he answered. “I know you’ve been busy this month, but every relationship gets tested that way. You deserve to know what real support looks like and someone who isn’t going to get scared when the going gets tough. You are the smartest person I’ve ever met, and you truly are going places, Gemma Sullivan.”

“Aw, Jordan,” she said before she stood up, walked over to the armchair, and hugged him tight.

“Thank you, for everything,” she said into his shoulder.

“No thanks needed, it’s the truth.” Jordan replied, pulling away and hitting her arm playfully.

“He’s right, Gemma,” Lauren said. “Everyone admires how passionate and determined you are, not to mention your brains. Someone is going to treat you like the queen you are, even if it isn’t Mat. Speaking of him,” Lauren continued, “What did he do when you were packing to leave?”

“He just sat there on the bed, but when I was about to leave, it seemed to hit him that I was leaving. He tried to say it was our home.”

Lauren and Jordan listened intently, thinking she had more to say, but she didn’t.

“That’s an odd thing to say after one hurts their girlfriend’s feelings so badly,” Lauren said.

“Yeah. I guess he was too plastered,” she muttered, and then she yawned.

“You look exhausted,” Lauren commented.

“It just hit me all of a sudden,” Gemma said, looking at her watch, which read 10:01, “I guess you really can cry yourself out.”

“Why don’t you go to sleep?” Jordan suggested. “You’ll feel a lot better in the morning. Well, physically, at least.”

“It’s 10 o’clock, I don’t go to bed this early.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t fight it. Your body needs to recover from today,” Lauren advised.

“You’re right,” Gemma said, “Good night. I can’t thank you enough for letting me stay.”

“It’s our pleasure,” Jordan replied.

Gemma turned away and walked down the hall towards the spare bedroom, but she stopped and turned back around, only to watch the couple in the living room. Jordan was now on the couch with his arm around Lauren, and he kissed the top of her head. Gemma smiled; she really didn’t want to ruin the moment, but she had to address one more thing.

“Hey guys?” Gemma said, and they looked up at her.

“Yeah?” Lauren said, furrowing her brow.

“I don’t expect Mat to get his shit together tonight, but if he comes here or calls to ask where I am, could you please tell him that I’m not taking him back and will pick up the rest of my stuff when I figure out a new living arrangement?”

“Of course, Gem! We won’t let him get anywhere near you, I promise,” Lauren said.

“Thanks.” She smiled at them and walked into the spare bedroom.

After she got into bed and pulled the sheets up to her chin, Gemma realized that today wasn’t completely horrible. Lauren and Jordan had shown her what real support looks like—putting a roof over her head when she showed up on their doorstep and giving her great advice. Sure, she suffered a nasty breakup, but in the process, she realized just how amazing her friends were, and she couldn’t be more grateful to have them. She knew the days, weeks, and months ahead were going to be really difficult, but she was ready to face every challenge that came her way.

@averytiredlawstudent @star-adorned @theforevermorereject

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onlylaboum · 5 years ago

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ok long rant ahead, you can scroll past this or get frustrated with me i guess

(gif credit)

kinda really hope that if laboum has a new comeback this year, it’ll be organized and received well, especially by new audiences because damnit they deserve it. i know that a lot of people prefer LABOUM’s older upbeat / bubbly past songs and i do like those more too, but i doubt that the change in genre is the reason the group hasn’t gained success. new people did discover them through Between Us and Firework, and some members did want to try more mature songs for a while so i’m really happy they got to try out something new and show their versatility.

i think LABOUM’s status, which after all these years is still a ‘nugu group‘ sadly, is in part because of fans. their domestic fandom consists for a large part of (rather creepy tbh) men who are or were in the military (bc the group performed so much for soldiers and had taken on the role of this kind of group), and i cannot imagine that type of fanbase being a positive and creative environment that stimulates streaming and promoting the group. (this is also why i have trouble sharing fancams or performance pictures; a lot are from questionable fanaccounts. :/ )

then there’s the intl. fandom which is there ofc, but it’s quite small and there are few translators and content creators. lack of translations makes it harder to actually keep up to date with what they’re doing, and if there are few twitter fancams, gif makers, reviewers, reaction videos, etc., not many new people will be introduced to them. maybe i’m somewhat projecting my own failure to contribute to the fandom onto the rest of it, but i do really notice a lack of posts in the tags on tumblr (e.g. sometimes it’s one post per _ amount of days) and on twitter i can barely find a handful of accounts dedicated to the group too.

moreover, however, i don’t think the blame can be put on consumers alone as it is quite ridiculous that they need to be relied upon so much for translations and promotion. i’ve talked with other friends about this before and we really have the feeling that Global H put more budget into the outfits nowadays than promotion and the production value of their MVs. it’s a shame!!! their custom outfits from the past were in fact what made them stand out, and so did their unique concepts and well edited videos. i am very well aware that their company does not possess as much budget as other labels, but the distribution of it is off. next to that, the girls are treated like shit? they’re put on diets (remember also that shit trick the company pulled on them when they were on Weekly Idol and were promised food and got crackers as prize?), and for years they had phone / SNS use restrictions as if they were still a rookie group (and i find it too controlling regardless). it’s SO fucking stupid of the company, because they 1. are mistreating their own idols and 2. not making use of the opportunity of social media as they could. active social media use by idols and providing updates or fun videos etc. is one of the things that can make a group more engaging and interesting to become a fan of.

sorry, this has been a long rant. i’m just so fed up with the status of the group, the interview from a while ago in which Solbin stated she felt they still hadn’t made it and she even considered getting a side job, and how i haven’t done much on this blog during the last couple of comebacks. i still often consider adding an mods but the last time i did that for a kpop blog, i soon realized that keeping in contact with other mods almost daily took only more effort and time rather than that it was a relief. and i just don’t have such time right now, or at least not the space for it in my head now i’m trying to finish my Master thesis with a lot of struggle. if they do make a comeback while i’m still working on my thesis (until early july at least), i’ll at least try to share whatever i can. i will also make a list of good ways to promote their stuff and maybe i and followers can do such things together by then (e.g. an mv streaming party)? so yeah. ok rant is over. please do let me know your thoughts, just pls be nice ^^;;

#personal #but ok to rb unless youre gonna be rude bc please dont lol #laboum #nugu gg #underrated kpop

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lady-moonbroch · 5 years ago

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Hello there my pretty darling! It’s been quite some time since I had the chance to just sit in one place and enjoy tumblr. I hope you are all doing well consider there’s a virus out to get us atm.

I’m making this particular post to announce that:

If you are still with me, THANK YOU. It’s been a tad bit hard for me lately, and I’ve left so many things aside because my head just cannot focus. The world around us is not at it’s best at the moment, adding my elephant sized stress about my thesis (which is more stagnant than ever) and the deadline for the enrolments for Master’s in England AND a very obnoxious tendonitis on my right arm...well you can imagine I’m not at my best.

I’ve been logging less and less in the game’s I play (and want to write for), I haven’t finished Nobu’s Eternal Route nor VIncent’s route and I just hated the way my writing seems so damn childish. But there are people who like it still, and I’m more than thankful for that.

So these days I’ve been taking a better look at my WIPS and ideas and I began brain storming ideas for the fics I wish to release. By this weekend (because I need the deadline breathing on my neck to do it) I will unleash my Ikevam and Obey me OC’s, because I’ve postponed due to fear enough too many times. I love seen people interact with other writers OCs and I really want to have this with you guys. There’s a drawing of @jonahswife OC Alma and mine that I will also color and upload soon enough. I need to brush up on my drawing at some point too.

I’ll try and take things one step at a time, but I don’t want to disappear from here for too long again. I’ve promised myself I’d support as many artists and writers I can this year and I haven’t done a good job thus far.

That’s all for now my pretty darlings! Me and my RoboCop arm salute you all. Take good care and I will see you soon 💋~ Claire

*picrew

#claire talks #personal #I promise that I will improve my writing and that I will post some stuff soon enough #I pinky-swear 🤞🏻

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nicolewrites · 5 years ago

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We Stand, Fate-Tested - II

Sticking with the longer chapters. I finished this part up instead of an essay due in 5 hours, so it’s a gift you should run with. I have the outline for the story roughly in place, but no promises about when the next update will be.

Rating: T+ Genre: Mystery, Friendship, Romance Characters: [Byleth/My Unit, Dimitri B.], [Byleth/My Unit, Claude R.] Words: 5,826

Byleth leads the first tutorial of the year. / The Blue Lions return home for the second time since the war's end.

AO3 | FFN

II - In Circles We Tread

Garreg Mach University - 14 Horsebow Moon, 732 AU

Byleth arrived at the classroom where her tutorial section was meeting ten minutes early. She was hoping that whatever class had the room before her would be done early so that she could set up her laptop and her review slides for the session. Fortunately, there didn’t appear to have been a class in the room so she was able to enter as soon as she arrived.

Byleth was in the midst of setting up her laptop with the tangled, university-supplied cables when her first student arrived. It was the same girl with straight, dark hair that had been the first student to arrive in the lecture the week before. She approached the front desk and smiled at Byleth.

Byleth paused in her set up. “Hi,” she greeted.

“Hello, Miss Eisner,” the girl replied. “My name is Lysithea.”

Byleth nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, Lysithea. You’re a bit early, but please, have a seat wherever you’d like.”

The girl nodded and sat right in the front row. She pulled out a laptop and began tapping away at the keyboard. Byleth went back to setting up her presentation as more students trickled in. She recognized the boy with green hair, half of the group of students that had sat near her in lecture, as well as Claude and Dimitri. Claude took a seat in the back, flanked by a girl with bright pink hair and a boy with purple hair and expensively styled clothes while Dimitri sat with the friends he had sat with in lecture.

Byleth finished setting up her slides and glanced at the clock. It was one minute before 1:30, when the tutorial was supposed to begin so she stood up, assessing her class. Her tutorial section had half the class and Seteth ran the tutorial with the other half. As it was the first tutorial of the section, attendance was at almost, or entirely, full capacity, something which likely wouldn’t continue throughout the whole semester.

“Hi everyone,” she greeted when the clock finally ticked over to 1:30. The chatter in the room mostly died out and all the curious faces turned to face her. A bead of nervousness pricked in her chest, but she smiled and forced it down. “As I’m sure you guys know, I’m Byleth Eisner and I’ll be your TA for this class. I’m leading this tutorial section, Tutorial 2, and Dr. Cichol leads Tutorial 1.”

She leaned down and moved to the first slide in her slideshow which was a trio of pictures. The first was Byleth and Seteth working in a lab doing hands-on analysis of artifacts. The second was a shot of Byleth posing with her undergrad thesis team at Shambhala where they had done an expedition. The last photo was Byleth in the Main Hall of the university as she presented her undergraduate thesis.

“I’m in my first year of my Masters here at Garreg Mach University with a specialization in Unification Era Archaeology focused on the Guardian of Order. I did my undergraduate degree here and graduated with a combined honours in Archaeology and History. Dr. Cichol is currently my Masters supervisor which is why I’m here as your TA.”

There were a few murmurs across the class as people assessed her qualifications. Byleth ignored them and moved to her next slide which held a photo of the ancient sword that was rumoured to have been wielded by the Guardian of Order. They had discussed it in lecture since it was one of very few relics from the Unification Era that hadn’t been lost to looters or fire. However, since it was still early in the semester, they’d looked at the blade objectively, not as a relic wielded by the Guardian.

“Archaeology is the study of material remains of humans and societies. In our first class we talked about the first step of working with artifacts: description, classification, and analysis. The next step is the placement of an artifact within its historical context. If we take this image here, can someone give me a description for it?” She gestured to the screen and the image of the sword. “And, for the first few classes if you can just say your name beforehand so I can get to know everyone, that would be much appreciated.”

The blonde girl sitting with Dimitri raised her hand and Byleth nodded. “I’m Ingrid,” the girl introduced, brushing her braid back over her shoulder. “The first step would be to identify the weapon as an ancient blade, likely a longsword. It appears to be made of some kind of bone or clay material due to its lack of metallic qualities.”

Byleth nodded. “Excellent, thank you, Ingrid. Now, can someone give me a guess about the historical context of the blade based off of that?”

Lysithea, the girl who had been early for class, raised her hand. “Given the design of the blade and its recovery location, this is likely a blade that had been used in the Unification War. Due to appearance, it is likely that the blade was used by a highly ranked soldier, officer, or commander. It fell to disuse probably after the fire in 101 and 102 AU.”

Byleth nodded and was about to commend Lysithea when Claude raised his hand. She raised an eyebrow and gestured for him to speak.

Claude was leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head as he made steady eye contact with Byleth. “Maybe I just know this as a History major, but that blade fell to disuse before the Great Fire of Garreg Mach. It would have been around 9 AU that it was no longer wielded. It’s structure greatly resembles the other legendary weapons of the time known as ‘Relics’.”

Byleth appraised Claude. He was correct, of course, but it had taken her a lot of research to actually find the year when the Guardian was reported to have disappeared, leaving her legendary blade to the Royal Collection. “That is correct, Claude,” she agreed. “This sword,” she paused to continue the presentation on her laptop which let the label pop up on the screen, “is known to us as the Guardian’s Blade, the weapon that was wielded by the Guardian of Order in the Unification War.”

There were a few more jumbled murmurs around the room as students processed what she was saying.

“Pardon me, Miss Eisner,” the green-haired boy said, raising a hand, “if you’re saying this weapon is one of the Relics, why was it recovered separately from the rest of the ancient weapons?”

“That’s an excellent question,” she trailed off, gesturing for the student to give his name.

“Linhardt.”

“Linhardt,” Byleth repeated. “In the year 7 AU, after the death of the Saviour King, the Guardian of Order called for the collection of the Relics to be displayed as artifacts and historical trophies instead of used as weapons. It has never been confirmed, but historians have theorized that since the Guardian of Order disappeared just under a year after her husband’s passing, she took her blade with her when she vanished. The discovery of the sword here at Garreg Mach is one of the biggest mysteries regarding her disappearance.”

At the back of the classroom, Claude’s friends were whispering, but Claude’s green eyes were fixed sharply on Byleth as she explained. Byleth tried to ignore him as she continued to field questions as well as offer her own discussion questions. The rest of the 50-minute section passed relatively quickly, but right until the end, Byleth could have sworn that Claude didn’t take his eyes off of her.

At 2:20, Byleth concluded the discussion and dismissed class, saying she would see everyone back the next week. Conversations broke out and people started packing up. She unplugged her laptop from the projector and started putting away her own things. She slid her laptop into her bag and looked up when someone cleared their throat in front of the podium. Byleth found Claude smirking at her, his hands wrapped around the straps of his backpack.

“Good discussion,” he complimented.

“Thank you,” Byleth replied. She still felt on edge around Claude. There was something about him that was so infuriatingly familiar and she just couldn’t figure out what it was because it certainly wasn’t just because he was the son of an ambassador.

“Combined honours with History, hm?” he continued. “Sounds familiar.”

Byleth rolled her eyes but smiled faintly. “Yes, it appears we have similar interests.” She contemplated something for a moment before she pushed forward with it: “Have you taken a lot of courses in Unification Era history?”

Claude shrugged. “I took 234 and I’m currently in 316.”

Byleth had taken both of those courses herself. History 234 was the Unification War History course and History 316 was History of the Unification Years. Neither was particularly heavy in information about the Guardian of Order and the Guardian’s Blade, topics Claude had already proved himself knowledgeable in.

“Is knowing everything just a hobby then?” she asked.

Claude laughed this time. “If I knew everything I don’t think I’d be in your class, Teach.”

The nickname caught her off guard and she blinked dumbly at him for a moment. Claude seemed to recognize his blunder and he winced.

“Ah, sorry if that was weird, it just felt right.”

Byleth bit her lip and shook her head. “It’s fine, really,” she assured. In all honesty, the nickname had felt fitting and familiar. It was weird.

“Anyways, I don’t suppose there’s any way we could sit down and talk about your thesis, is there? I’m incredibly curious about the research that you’ve been doing,” Claude continued after a short cough.

Byleth raised an eyebrow. “I have office hours and my email is on the course outline,” she replied flatly.

Claude laughed. “Yes, but your office hours will be filled with students with academic, course-related questions. Email, also, doesn’t have the same personal touch as a face-to-face conversation.”

Byleth sighed. “Look, Claude, I’m your TA, I don’t know what you want me to say.”

He held up his hands innocently. “I’ve just got questions about your Masters, surely that’s an innocent enough intention? What about Thursday afternoon at the coffee shop in the student centre?”

Byleth considered it for a moment. There was nothing in her contract that said she couldn’t get coffee with someone who was interested in her academic projects and if she managed to convince Claude to pursue a graduate degree in her field after graduation, she knew Seteth wouldn’t care about the nature of their conversation.

She sized up Claude and folded her arms. “I’ll meet you at Anna’s at 4 on Thursday,” she consented.

Claude’s smirk widened and he nodded. “I look forward to it, Teach.”

With one last cheeky wink, Claude strode away and headed for the door where his two friends had lingered, waiting for him. Byleth watched him for a moment before she resumed packing up her things. She slid her attendance sheet into her folder and placed it in her bag.

“Miss Eisner,” a new voice interrupted.

Byleth shook her head and looked up. “Byleth, please.”

Dimitri, standing in front of her desk, gave her a small smile. “Byleth,” he agreed. “I hope Claude wasn’t bothering you. He’s a strong personality.”

Byleth laughed lightly and smiled. “No, no, he was just asking about my area of study. I’m happy to talk about it. I wouldn’t be studying it if I wasn’t.”

Dimitri looked relieved. “That’s good to hear. You’re certainly interesting to listen to in tutorial. You know your stuff.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Admittedly, I’m feeling a bit out of my depth in this class.”

Byleth nodded. “That’s understandable, but really, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. You’ve got some smart classmates, if today was any indication, and both Dr. Cichol and I have office hours reserved for this class section so feel free to come to either of us if you need anything.”

Dimitri nodded. “Yes, thank you very much.” Someone called his name from by the door and he turned to walk away, pausing once to give her a last goodbye.

Byleth pulled her bag up onto her shoulder and bit her lip. Dimitri and Claude and Edelgard were so familiar that it hurt her to think about them. Even so, she had a job to do and a meeting with Seteth to get to. She strode out of the classroom, fishing her tangled headphones out of her pocket.

- ~ -

Seteth placed a new folder on the desk between them, gesturing for her to take a look. Byleth slid it towards herself and opened it. It was a stack of about five pieces of paper and the first was an email between Seteth and the Fhirdiad National Museum of Unification that was set to sponsor the expedition below Garreg Mach.

Byleth scanned the email and grinned when she found the phrase she was looking for. “On behalf of the Board of Directors here at the museum, we consent to allow Miss Byleth Eisner a position on the Garreg Mach Research Team to assist with her academic development,” she read aloud.

Seteth was smiling. “Keep reading.”

“In the interest of the success of the dig, funding has also been secured for an additional team of researchers to join you on this endeavour. The idea is to have undergraduate students join you to develop practical archaeological skills.” Byleth stopped reading abruptly and looked up at Seteth. “Let me get this straight: you not only got approval for me to join, but now they want us to take on a group of undergrads?”

Seteth nodded, knitting his fingers together atop his desk. “I think this will be an interesting opportunity for them.” He reached for the file, pushing Byleth’s hands away and pulling the documentation back towards him. “The expedition is set to begin next year, in the Guardian Moon of the new semester. I was thinking that we would extend this opportunity to the students currently in Archaeology 356. That way we have a semester to evaluate the students so we can choose ones we think will be beneficial, not hindering, to the studies.”

Byleth nodded slowly. “Yeah, that makes sense. Still, this kind of opportunity for undergraduates means everyone will want in. I know I would have when I was in my third year.”

“I’m going to put an announcement up on my website about the opportunity and discuss it next class. I was hoping you would be able to design some kind of application form so that we can immediately narrow down our options.”

Byleth slid her laptop out of her bag and opened a blank document. “What kind of questions were you thinking for the application?”

Seteth pondered for a moment before he answered: “Ask about any experience they have, and how many prior archaeology or history credits they have. I would also like to know about their own interpretation of the Unification Era, since that’s what this is all about.”

“If I asked what they think is a major, lasting influence of the Unification Era on current Fódlani politics?”

Seteth smiled. “I like that.”

“How many students can we take?”

Seteth flipped through papers briefly to find the definite answer. “We can take ten, but that’s too many. I think eight is an appropriate number.”

Byleth noted that down and she tapped out a few more rough questions. “I assume we’ll do a vetting process with the written applications and then call the best candidates for interviews with the rest of our dig team, right?”

“Yes,” Seteth agreed. “It’s important that they meet and can get along with the rest of the team because they are an addition to the team that is meant to help their skills, not hinder the results of our expedition. Too many people have put too much effort into this for it to fail now.”

Byleth knew why Seteth was nervous because the last time someone had led a dig under the university, it had fallen apart just a few weeks after it began. Byleth paused and exhaled slowly. “Seteth, this might be overstepping, but I want to ask about my father.” Seteth tensed and Byleth swallowed her nervousness before continuing. “I know he was a part of the last research expedition to the underside of Garreg Mach five years ago. I know he pulled out of the project part-way through and that the project fell through after he withdrew. What are we going to find down there that caused my father to pull out so suddenly?”

Seteth stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Byleth, are you asking me if I know why your father was killed?”

“No,” she said firmly. “He was stabbed five years ago. That’s unrelated to his work. I’m asking you why the excavation couldn’t continue without my father.”

“I honestly don’t know,” Seteth admitted. “I wasn’t a member of that excavation team. It was led by a woman named Catherine Charon. Catherine cancelled further progress once your father withdrew his support. The excavation was privately funded by a private collector from Zanado and apparently the money stopped once your father left the project.”

Byleth frowned. “My father was a security contractor, not an archaeologist. His withdrawal from the project should have just meant that they brought on someone else, not that they cancelled the dig entirely.”

“I agree. It was something that I could never get Catherine to explain and she left the University that year before I could get a real answer out of her. Your father never liked to talk about it either, as I’m sure you know, and then he died just five months later.”

Byleth sighed. “I’ve been through the site notes and the inventory of every artifact recorded as recovered. There are no mentions of what caused him to pull out or anything that might lend to the private donor withdrawing their support or Dr. Charon calling off the project.”

Seteth studied her for a moment. “Does your interest in being part of this dig only have to do with your father?”

“No,” Byleth assured. “I’m interested in what we might be able to recover and how it can support my thesis, but I won’t say I’m not curious.”

She closed her laptop and stood up from the desk. She pulled her bag up and prepared to head out of Seteth’s office. “My father was a different man after that expedition than when he went into it. I do want to know why, and I don’t want that to happen to anyone else, either, if I can help it.”

- ~ - ~ - ~ -

Garreg Mach Monastery - 21 Red Wolf Moon, Unification Year

A knock at the door drew Byleth’s attention and she turned in her seat to look at the entrance to her room. It was one of the monastery’s monks who stood patiently in the doorway, waiting for permission to enter. Byleth waved her in and the monk bowed briefly before stepping in.

“Your Grace, I have received word from an advanced scout that His Majesty and the court will be arriving in the next few hours.”

Byleth smiled faintly. “Thank you, but please, I’m not the Archbishop yet, so Professor or Byleth is more than fine.”

The monk shook her head, but she was smiling as well. “With all due respect, you are ascending in rank tomorrow, Your Grace. You’ve been acting head of the church for several months as well.” She bowed briefly once more before leaving the room, leaving Byleth alone again.

Byleth sighed and stood from her desk, heading towards her balcony. She pushed open the doors and stepped outside. The stone was cold against her bare feet and the air was chilly enough that she instantly shivered. Byleth looked up at the clear blue sky and twisted the ring on her finger thoughtfully.

After the war had ended, Dimitri had stayed for a month of negotiations with the church and for his coronation before his council of advisors had finally managed to get him to return to Fhirdiad. Byleth missed him dearly–him and Felix and Sylvain and Ingrid and Dedue who had returned with him. Annette and Ashe had stayed at the monastery for another couple of weeks before they too left for the capital, leaving Byleth with only Mercedes, Flayn, Seteth, and the Knights of Seiros.

She and Dimitri had announced their engagement officially on the day of his coronation, but all of their close friends had known much before that point. It had been just over a month now, since all the former Blue Lions had been in one place and even though part of Byleth was dreading her formal ascension to the head of the church, she was grateful for the opportunity it offered to gather her friends and allies in one place.

Of course, there was also the wedding that would follow Byleth’s ascension. She and Dimitri had argued about the wedding for nearly two weeks since while they both wanted a smaller affair, Dimitri had been the only one willing to go through with a small event. Byleth knew that a private wedding would invite more scrutiny than the marriage of the church and the state already would. She also knew it would be important for Dimitri to use the wedding as a political event to continue to smooth relations with former Empire territories. Eventually, her argument had won out and they’d been thrown into planning the wedding of the century.

Byleth didn’t linger too long on the balcony. The chill was going to get to her and she really couldn’t afford to get sick with a few very important days ahead of her. She slipped back inside her chambers and moved to pull on a pair of slip-on shoes to chase away lingering chills. The ornate furniture and decorations in the room felt wrong to her. Three weeks after the war, Rhea had departed and Byleth had moved into the former archbishop’s chambers.

Byleth ran her hand along the top of the dresser near the balcony and frowned. Being in Rhea’s old room felt weird enough on its own, but the fact that Byleth had not gotten a moment alone with Rhea to ask about what Seteth had told her before the former archbishop had departed made her feel even more uncomfortable.

Seteth’s words, and their implications, weighed on her daily. She had not managed to get another candid conversation with her advisor since that day two months ago. Flayn too, seemed to be avoiding Byleth or only approaching her when there were other people around. Byleth pulled her hand off the dresser and touched it to the left side of her chest. As always, there was no heartbeat beneath her palm and she exhaled wearily.

Another sharp knock on the door caused Byleth to jolt upright and snap her hand back to her side. This intruder was a much more welcome sight than the monk who had interrupted her earlier.

“Mercedes!” Byleth exclaimed as her friend stepped into the room.

“Hello Professor!” Mercedes replied cheerfully. “You look lovely,” she complimented.

Byleth blinked and took in her own outfit. She was wearing one of the ceremonial dresses that had been commissioned for her, but it was nowhere near as high end as the dress she would be wearing for her ascension tomorrow. She smoothed her hands over the cream-coloured fabric and smiled softly.

“Thank you. What are you doing up here? I thought you were going to wait in the entrance hall for the others.”

Mercedes laughed. “Well, Professor, we sent someone up to let you know they were almost here, but you never reappeared, so I decided to come fetch you myself.”

“They’re almost here?” Byleth repeated. When the monk had mentioned that they would be arriving in a few hours, she had not been expecting their arrival in the next half hour.

Mercedes’s eyes were shining. “Their party had just been spotted entering the monastery grounds when I came up.”

- ~ -

Standing outside the main entrance of the monastery, Byleth felt like her blood was singing. The first few riders of the party had just crossed into the marketplace of the monastery and already two of the riders were breaking in her direction. Above them, a pegasus whinnied and descended.

Sylvain and Felix, the first two riders, dismounted and covered the remaining distance on foot. Ingrid barely managed to get herself off of her pegasus before she was also breaking towards Byleth and Mercedes. Felix reached her first and he paused, forcing himself into a stiff bow. Byleth rolled her eyes and pulled him into a hug. He didn’t reciprocate immediately, but he did pat her back after a moment.

As soon as she released Felix, Sylvain pulled her into a tight hug. Sylvain was wearing more armour than Felix so the hug felt stiffer, but he was warm and solid against her and Byleth drank in his familiarity. She pulled away from Sylvain and turned to hug Ingrid as well. After she had hugged the last of the trio, Byleth stepped back and smiled broadly.

“Welcome back,” she greeted.

Sylvain laughed. “Come on, Professor, we know we’re not the ones you really want to see.” He gestured behind him where the rest of the party was arriving including Ashe, Annette, Gustave, and Dedue.

Byleth’s breath caught as she recognized the rider at the front of the pack. He seemed to have noticed her as well, practically leaping off of his mount and jogging towards her. Byleth brushed past her former students to move towards him, nearly tripping on her dress as she descended the steps. He was in front of her before she could trip, his hands gripping her forearms as he stared at her face. A dazzling smile cracked across Dimitri’s expression and Byleth felt herself smile too.

“Hello, my beloved,” Dimitri greeted gently.

“I missed you,” Byleth said. She had intended for a more eloquent greeting, but her heart had won out and she had spoken the naked truth instead.

The life glimmering in Dimitri’s good eye softened and he bent his head, pressing his forehead to hers. “I missed you too, Byleth,” he murmured.

Byleth didn’t get to reply before he was kissing her. Her hands framed his face as she kissed him back fiercely, pouring a month’s worth of emotion into their reunion kiss. It wasn’t the most proper or befitting of greetings for two authority figures, but it was the genuine, real reaction of two young people in love who had nearly lost each other in a brutal 5-year war. Finally–and unfortunately–Byleth had to pull away, breathing hard.

She laughed when Dimitri didn’t let her pull far away and she felt her adoration for him cause tears to prickle at the corners of her eyes. She ran her thumb across his cheekbone and smiled warmly.

“I don’t know if that was the most proper greeting,” she teased.

Dimitri’s laugh rumbled in his chest. “A man can be excused for missing his fiancé,” Dimitri refuted and Byleth laughed again.

“Welcome back, my love,” she said quietly. “It’s good to see you.”

“And I am always glad to see you,” he replied. He looked past her towards the monastery where many of the clergy were gathered to watch his arrival. “I really have made a scene, haven’t I?”

Byleth slipped her hand into his and tugged him back towards the monastery. “Come on, I want to hear about Fhirdiad. I want to hear from all of you. Surely we can spare an afternoon in the Blue Lion’s classroom to reconnect?”

Dimitri followed her lead as they walked towards the monastery. “You’ll get no complaints from me on that, but won’t Seteth protest?”

Byleth huffed. “I am not Archbishop until tomorrow, but I do hope that he’ll allow me this time with my friends before I saddle myself with responsibility for the rest of my life.”

“I suppose I could busy myself with keeping our guests from Fhirdiad occupied,” Seteth admitted, catching the end of Byleth’s sentence as she and Dimitri rejoined the group gathered at the monastery’s entrance. “Your Majesty, it is nice to see you, as always,” her advisor added for pleasantness’s sake.

Byleth beamed and pulled Dimitri past Seteth heading into the monastery. Their friends, including the rest of the Blue Lions plus Flayn, followed them as Byleth led the way. Byleth watched her friends as they walked, noting who was talking to who and the expressions on faces.

Dedue was listening intently to Mercedes as she spoke softly, Ashe was chatting with Flayn, Annette seemed to be having some kind of minimal conversation with Felix, and Ingrid and Sylvain were conversing in light and teasing tones. Byleth smiled to herself as she watched them and tightened her grip on Dimitri’s hand unintentionally.

“You look satisfied, love, is there something you’d like to share?” Dimitri asked curiously.

Byleth laughed lightly. “I don’t want to scare this away,” she admitted, gently tilting her head in Felix and Annette’s direction. Felix’s ears were pink at the tips and Annette’s cheeks had a rosy glow.

“Ah,” Dimitri replied, his own lips twitching into a smile. “Well I could let it go, but I know Duke Fraldarius has been spending much more time in conversation with Baron Dominic.”

Byleth squeezed his hand. “I wonder why that could be,” she replied teasingly. “Perhaps the same reason why Ashe has been my best communicator with Brigid recently.”

“Or why the son of the esteemed Margrave Gautier has taken to spending his time split between his own lands and the lands of Count Galatea,” Dimitri replied, glancing over at his other childhood friends.

Byleth shook her head fondly. “I don’t think our wedding will be the only one in the future, my love.”

“No, I would be inclined to agree with you on that,” Dimitri hummed.

Finally, their little group reached the room that used to be the Blue Lion’s classroom. All of them stopped just outside the room as if none of them could make themselves set foot inside the room. After a moment of nothing, Byleth dropped Dimitri’s hand and stepped forward across the threshold.

The monastery’s reconstruction effort had obviously begun to move into areas like the classroom since all the furniture was righted and placed mostly back where it had been before the war. The bookshelves were emptier than they used to be, thanks to thieves, and Byleth’s blackboard that had been used for lectures was leaning in two large, broken pieces against the rear wall.

Byleth moved towards it like a magnet and ran her fingers across the still chalk-dusted surface with a wistful smile on her face.

“This place feels like it was frozen in time,” Sylvain said idly as he stepped in and moved towards the windows on the front wall.

Felix snorted. “I’m not sure that’s how I’d describe it.”

“You know, I don’t think I’ve been here since the war ended,” Ashe admitted.

Annette nodded. “Me either. I used to come here to work on things when everywhere else was crowded.”

“We’ve shared a lot of memories in this place,” Ingrid agreed. She walked curiously over to one of the bookshelves and pressed her fingers in the empty spaces between books.

“Will you get the Officer’s Academy up and running again, Professor?” Dedue asked after a moment.

Byleth blinked and she realized that she honestly hadn’t even considered it until that point. She had been focusing so much of her effort on unification campaigns and the physical and spiritual repairs to the church that she had almost forgotten it was once a school as well.

“I think we should try,” Dimitri answered for her. He stepped up next to Byleth and wrapped a warm arm around her waist. “So much good came out of this place.”

“I think it would be easy enough to convince my brother to divert some efforts into getting this place all fixed up,” Flayn said brightly. “As much as he tries to pretend, I know he has a soft spot for the Academy and for the Blue Lions House especially since you all did take me on as a student partway through the year.”

“We’d all have to get together more often in that case,” Mercedes said cheerfully. “An annual gathering to celebrate the new classes,” she suggested.

Sylvain chuckled, throwing an arm over Felix’s shoulder as he headed for the centre of the room. “I like that idea, Mercedes. It reminds us all of that fateful day we all took a chance to return here and we met up with our Professor and our Prince again.”

Dimitri tensed at her side, but Sylvain’s words held no malice and he relaxed after a moment. Slowly, the rest of the Blue Lions congregated at the front of the classroom. Annette and Mercedes had linked their arms while Sylvain had thrown his other arm over Ingrid’s shoulders as well. Ashe moved to stand between Ingrid and Annette, Dedue stood between Mercedes and Dimitri, and Flayn slipped in between Byleth and Felix.

In their odd, sort-of circle, Byleth felt a lump well up in her throat. She loved these people more than she knew she was capable of. The moment felt like it needed a toast of some sort to cement it, so Byleth swiped Dimitri’s flask from its position on his belt. Her fiancé made a noise of surprise, but Byleth just ignored him and raised the flask.

“To the best students I could have asked for and the best group of friends I could have ever needed.”

Smiles rippled around the room and Byleth took a swig from the flask, letting the hard liquor Dimitri was carrying burn down her throat as she swallowed. She handed the flask off to him and he took a sip before passing it off to Dedue. The flask made its way around the ring and everyone drank to differing successes (Ashe, Annette, and Flayn pulling strange faces while the rest managed to stomach it with little reaction and Sylvain even took two sips).

“Thank you, my friends,” Byleth continued as she received the flask back from Flayn. “I am so grateful you were all able to come to support me in this endeavour. Your support means so much.”

“Of course, Professor,” Ingrid replied gently. “You believed in us when no one else did so it was only fair that we did the same.”

“Besides,” Dimitri continued, “my rule is nothing without the support of the Church of Seiros.”

Byleth rolled her eyes and elbowed him, but he just tightened his grip on her waist and leaned down to kiss her temple. She smiled.

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spacegaywritings · 5 years ago

Text

Communication of Silence - Chapter 12 “Spi(c)es 2″

Summary: Virgil runs into Patton at therapy. Turns out Patton, Virgil and Picani all know one another.

Tags: therapy, panic, anxiety, grounding techniques, a lot of stress for Virgil, miscommunication, apologies, soft logan, supportive patton, coffee mention, skin picking, fidgeting

ao3: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 12,5 / 13 / 14 + Tumblr: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 12,5 / 13 / 14 +

My KoFi - Support me ♥ or Commission me

Story under the cut (Word count ~6k):

Virgil carefully stepped out of the room, legs a bit shaky and heart light.

Their mind was still trying to wrap around the that leaving this room was akin the world of hope and falling back into the pits of darkness. Knowledge a dagger in their hand to cut through every tendril of doubt and mishap that attempted to pull them into the abyss of despair once more.

Sometimes, talking was harder than they liked it to be but at least it was over. It equipped them with the right tools to figure themself out, to make life in the darkness better. At some point, they would find their light and banish every and all lingering piece of threatening shadows.

Admittedly, they did feel better. Their body was just shook from all the feelings and shit. Battling your demons was a chore but winning them over was a privilege of knowing how to. Sometimes trial and error was enough.

Sometimes, people needed to dip into the confidentiality of a professional to master the art of negotiating peace with oneself.

Stupid feelings.

Life was already hard enough.

Living with toxic thinking was unnecessarily exhaustive. It felt like an extra punishment after every hardship people went through.

From all they knew, it was worth it.

Going out, hands free and heart open was a blessing. Exploring the outside with an objective vision instead of spiking darkness at any corner of their mind.. it was.. it was a relief.

Work came with it, sure, but what in life didn't come without a price? Virgil had already decided that therapy was annoying. But it was annoying and absolutely worth it.

Ever time they stepped out of the care of their therapist, they knew their world was painted in new colours. Every time they opened their eyes to see new kindness and be surprised by a sudden brightness around them, they felt affirmed in their decision to stick with it and fight the battle of his own absurd thinking.

The student ran their hands through purple hair and sighed once more.

It was over.

It was helpful.

They had done all that had been asked from them.

Their shoulders were lighter and, as usual, life seemed a bit kinder than before.

On top of that...

A realisation nudged them and a smile appeared on their face.

Dee!

Within a split second, they already took their phone out and unlocked the screen with swift movements. Their eyes barely looked at the password as their fingers confirmed it and immediately clicked the messenger icon to contact Dee.

By now, she should be done with work. Or at least soon. They shot a quick message to her. Just to make sure she was informed.

*Conversation between Dee♥ and you.*

Today.

You, 3.51pm: Did your stupid therapy. Happy?

(sent)

“Oh, Virgil. What on earth are you doing here?”

A voice of genuine surprise banged against heir head and ripped them out of his comfortable thought bubble of being together with Dee by the next day.

For now, the dream was squished back onto the bench. With drops of disappointment souring their mind for the moment.

Instead, they were met with the rather neutral and beige office in which people were received for therapy.

Reality.

Before them, the familiar sigh of a certain walking hug made their spiking heartbeat calm down and refrain from thumping up their throat.

“P-patton?”, they asked in a small voice, their question coming out as a startled squeaking more than anything at this point.

They sounded unusually quiet and insecure compared to how Patton perceived them during the last days. It reminded him an odd amount of when they had met for the first time and Virgil had resembled a scared, abandoned kitten in the streets that was met with a stranger’s warm hands for the first time.

Virgil swallowed their dumb question away and shrugged the obvious answer into their conversation.

“I, u.. I could ask you the same. You came for an appointment?”

Patton chuckled and shook his head, his ginger candy strands of hair flying wildly and eventually nestling against his pale skin once more.

He looked like a little pastel prince of the kindness and forgiveness kingdom.

“Aw, no kiddo. I do not go to therapy, I am learning how to provide for other people. I am working with Dr. Picani for my master’s thesis. I only came by to drop something for him at the reception.”

As if on cue, the leading therapist in question stormed out of his office and waved at Patton. If Emile had been a life guard this would have meant the worst of all cases. But what did frantic waving stand for at the therapist's?

“Patton, wait a min-”

His outcry was interrupted as he finally made his way over to the two talking students. Apparently, his mind took a while to comprehend the view before him as well as the fact that he was still in the middle of a sentence.

“Oh Virgil, how come you are here today?”

The emphasis on the last word was the core of his question.

There was no wonder about them being there at all.

Virgil shuffled their shoes and looked down to be met with the sight of one green and one purple shoe. The green one had leaves and bamboo sticks drawn all over it in a darker shade of green - much like the forest's rich leaves during midsummer. The purple one had a little galaxy-like image on the inside of where their ankle should be. Rain showers of white suns and blue glimmers adorned the little piece of space.

They had drawn it on their own after dyeing their godforsaken, old-as-balls shoes. Kyle had inspired them to fix them up with some nifty drawings. Now they looked admirably special and were worth being desired greatly.

“Emergency session”, they said, shrugging, “I am all good, now. Promise, Em.”

They did not realise the slight frown weighing Patton’s candybrows down just the slightest bit. Within just a moment, the shadow of doubt was gone and he decided to take the lead of the conversation.

The confusion still left an imprint on the back of his mind. He had never heard anyone talk so intimately to Emile. It was not his business but a part of him wondered, how Virgil and Picani knew each other.

Curiosity was indeed a human vice.

But.. pet names like this were usually not exactly a therapy-client relationship.

Not his business, he reminded himself with waning patience.

“Anyway, what did you want from me? I can be right on my way and let you two catch up after you told me.”

Emile’s face lightened up in realisation and he revealed a rather familiar sports bag Virgil had seen on him before. It was Patton’s and he had seen him return from his night shifts with this.

Did he have another shift right now? All the more reason to consider Ri's offer.

“You forgot your bag when you dropped your scripts over here. Thank you for not being cranky about me being so busy - I was just on a call right now and couldn't delay it. ”

It was Virgil’s turn to move their face, one single eyebrow arching up for just a moment.

Emile evidently avoided looking at them as he spoke these words. That bastard totally hid something.

A call.. hmm.

Patton noticed the change with a little pat to his heart but he took a deep breath to shift his attention back to the topic at hand.

It wasn't his business, no matter how tempting and curious it seemed to be. If any of them wanted to talk, they would decide that. Not he.

“Ah, yes. Thank you so much. I was on the way home now. Virgil, do you want me to wait for you and take you with me?”

Oh holy fucking shit.

Virgil bit their lip and looked at the tallest of the three, an undefinable tension in their eyes. Not once before had Patton seen a look of trouble like that before. Not from the usually either shy and cautious kitten or the straight up fierce tiger that was the smaller punk.

“I-...”

Their mouth simply stood open and they blinked at Patton as if he had just asked them to choose between two of his dearest friends - one would be lost forever and never to be met or befriended again, while the other one was ensured to stay around by force of magic and the supernatural law of weird situations and horrible choices forced onto people.

No one would take a decision as that lightly.

The small student just shrugged but before they could even open their mouth to speak up again, Emile was audibly gasping.

“No way, you two are living together! This is amazing! I never knew! Look at you two making a great duo! I bet you are getting along so well!”

At once, a warmth settled on Patton’s face and his head moved to a nod while Virgil shrugged and stole a single glance at the giant.

Their cheeks grew warm and redder.

“Guess‘s not so bad”

Virgil grimaced but the soft laugh from Patton and affirming “you are lovely to cook with”, let their lips move from awkward grin to a genuine, lop-sided smile.

The doctor in pastel pink and beige brown was producing an air of warmth.

“I am sure you are a team, better than Jessie and James!"

Patton gave the comment a little chuckle and Virgil shook their head yet a smile was still visible on their face.

They would never be able to deny just how much they relished in the simplicity of these jokes making any situation less awkward. If it was not for any other person, Virgil knew that the ginger giant from candyland was definitely the person at fault for them enjoying stupid puns so much.

He just strategically used them so well in any situation. It was like the right tool to disarm any bomb about to explode and he did it without breaking a sweat.

Emile was just silly - a little less cunning and definitely more upfront about negative vibes.

Maybe it was because he was older and knew to address certain issues. Perhaps Patton just wanted to keep peace?

They were overthinking.

They had to stop.

Now.

Before Virgil could go on a mental rant to yell at themself for still ruminating over it and possibly kicking themself into disliking Patton, an all-too familiar sound came up. The sound that appeared whenever “Law and Order” switched between scenes or skipped time or anything.

Virgil jolted a bit but reacted fast.

“Holy snowflake, this was sudden”, Patton exclaimed with little breath left in his lungs and an assuring hand over his heart to calm his nerves.

The sound had been quite loud and he felt like he had heart it before.

All the while, a grin was spread all over Virgil’s face and the awkward student forgot about their thoughts and worries for a bit. Even the current situation and conundrum seemed to have disappeared.

They typed away fast, a little mumble escaping their curved lips without them noticing.

*Conversation between Dee♥ and you.*

Today.

You, 3.51pm: Did your stupid therapy. Happy?

(sent)

Dee♥, 4.00 pm: I am killing it and I sincerely hope you did too. *snake emoji* *smirk emoji*

Dee♥, 4.00 pm: Anyway, how are you holding up darling? Did the cartoon enthusiast catch you in time?

You, 4.00 pm: Next to him.

You, 4.01 pm: Patton is here. Fucking kill me.

You, 4.01 pm: He asked to bring me home but I thought about going to Ri. Em could easily take me.

(sent)

The response was a quick “yikes” but his attention was drawn back into the conversation before they got to message back.

The phone was rattling with another sudden sound but Virgil took the second flinch from Patton and turned off the sound.

“Sorry”

Emile shook his head quickly, a little smile painting his patient features and Virgil felt already hugged and pleasantly scolded like from a caring parent.

It was an odd feeling.

“Remember to not apologise for yourself. You had your reasons to reply. I hope she is doing well - I assume it is the loyal Sapphire to your own Ruby self.”

Patton’s spirits returned. His freckled face was beaming and he quickly hugged his bag against himself.

“Aw, how adorable! I never thought of you in this way! Emile, how dare you give me this gem of feelings”

He winked and Emile winked back.

OOF.

Virgil’s groan could be heard in the far distance of edgy teenager land while the adults were giggling at one another like little schoolgirls. It was oddly adorable.

Seeing Patton laughing was another level of comforting.

“Uh, yeah.. talking about gem and shit”

Wow, what a horrible start Virgil - wait. No. It was an okay start. Just a start. They would not mind and if they did, who cared. It was just a st- just a sentence.

Yeah.

“I might get my gem ass over to Ri and sleepover because, uh, yeah. I think he would be happy to have me around tonight.”

Virgil looked down at their shoes and shrugged. A part of their mind was still wildly roaring and telling them that this was a horrible sentence and how Patton would hate them now and despise them for everything.

And Emile? Maybe he would be jealous or get upset at them upsetting Patt-

No. No

Stupid thoughts.

Bullshit thoughts.

They went to therapy to not have any of these thoughts anymore.

It was bullshit, anxiety was just being some overdramatic shit and it was a help to nobody so it was time to fucking stop the fuck now.

They shrugged again and looked to the side before back at Patton.

“Sor- I mean.. thank, uh.. thanks for offering a ride but I think I will go to my family and make sure they know I am okay and shit. I uh... they worry, you know.”

Virgil offered a little smile. The pang of guilt jotted into their mouth and made it harder to smile but the lips stayed into position despite their little trembles and struggles to stay still.

With a the eyes of a man who mirrored Virgil, Patton nodded at the remark.

“I am glad to hear they care about you and.. and that you care about them, kiddo. I am sure they will be happy to have you around”, he started and stopped for a moment, his lips rolling together and his tongue parting them as if to spread the taste of his upcoming words on them.

He was contemplating about whether or not he should let them go beyond his tongue.

After a small pause, the decision was made.

“You don’t have to be scared of being with us. I am happy to see you and I honestly think Logan couldn’t be happier but to have found a friend like you.”

Virgil looked at him, wide-eyed.

Shock short-circuited their brain and ruled over their reason for long enough to override the anxious filter that would usually prevent words like that to pass his lips.

“You- you mean you are notmadwearefriends?”

The emo stepped closer to Emile and reached out for him, only to be gladly received by his welcoming chest and arms.

Patton blinked back, pressing his tongue against his gums to swallow his amusement at how absurd the other sounded. It was much better than to succumb to the bitter after-taste of an idea about why the other was so concerned. Instead, he helped himself and his smaller friend to the truce of another peaceful smile.

A smile so outwardly kind and warming, it could only come from a giant that served unexpected kindness instead of crushing dreams and bones.

“Virgil, kiddo, we are friends too. I would never get upset at you over something so silly. I want my friends to be happy and you and Logan are happy together, even if you don’t always fully agree with one another.”

The last part smelled like Logan talking about last night but Virgil stopped themself from boarding the panic train.

Patton wanted them to know it was okay. He was not mad.

They were friends.

Virgil carefully squeezed their arms around Emile for a bit longer. It was almost as if they tried reassuring someone else in order to make convince themself.

Projection, as Emile would call it.

...Actually, Patton would say the same.

Psychology nerds everywhere.

There were also feelings everywhere. They were like bubbles filled with different-coloured things that were fizzy or sizzling or gas-like and so on. Somehow, all these bubbles around Virgil did not feel pressing anymore. They squeezed them in a bit but it was cozy, in a weird way. Warmth and pink was around them.

It was innocent and .. trustworthy.

For once, there were no red flags. Wind glided over the pastel coloured banners of a relationship so novel and refreshing to Virgil.

It was still difficult to see and process.

Maybe one day, they would see these banners and identify them as a welcoming sign of hospitality and open arms. New ones but still arms stretched out to happily receive them.

“thanks...”

They slowly blinked at Patton who returned the little gesture with another soft rise of his lips’ corners.

Emile gently shielded the smaller person and mumbled something to which Virgil nodded again.

Patton accepted being the outside with silent patience like a good professional.

The punk softly rubbed their eyes. Only now, the ginger giant noticed how swollen and reddish they seemed again.

It reminded him of just they day before when they ate together.

He squinted ever so slightly, his eyes focusing on the little detail and eating it up with the information-hungry mind.

His thoughts wanted answers and every bit of piety seemed to feel heavy on Patton’s large form when.

These large bags of darkness under their eyes seemed to hide more than several hours of missing sleep a night. It was nothing new to Patton to consider but it was then, that he realised how tangible the issue was yet how far away at the same time.

“Uh-ehem”

Virgil cleared heir throat and straightened their posture.

“We are pretty much just barricading my therapist, you know”, they remarked with a slightest hint of a backbone in their words once more..

The silver tongue was back and it was sharp and sturdy as always. The sound immediately prompted Emile to react and lead them over to a corner. A heavy weapon in any battle of wits was back in place and ready to strike. Slowly, it sneaked back into the conversation and even the little smirk was blowing itself onto Virgil’s lips.

Lopsided, subtle and feisty.

It really was inappropriate to just stand in the middle of the way. What were the three thinking?

“Uhh.. Anyway, I think I will.. uh.. hitch a hike with you, Em - if that is okay”, they started and shrugged the slight slouch off their shoulders with a deep breath.

At once, the hesitation and doubt seemed banished from the conversation. Virgil looked tall and proud as never before.

Honestly, the ginger student felt surprised by the sudden change.

He would never cease to be surprised by them.

“Aw, sure thing, Virgil! You know, you always have a place by my side if you let me drive...”

Virgil’s eyes widened and Patton felt something tickle him like when your nose tickled before a sneeze. He sensed something.. something good being about to happen.

“..my van into your heart”, Emile finished.

The emo groaned loudly, immediately followed by a loud chuckle from them. Their shoulders slouched a bit and they curled into themself a bit.

“How about you drive yourself back into your work and I am gonna go and get some coffee for bribe”, they offered, “Patton, you coming?”

The two got together and walked to the closest café in comfortable silence. Every now and then Virgil glanced at their phone, fidgeting around and looking more and more before putting it away for a while to repeat the cycle.

Cars rolled down the cold streets and every breath evaporated into small clouds of fog. A few stray pigeons flew away when the dyad closed in on them in their curious search for anything edible.

The sun was already setting and bathing the city in a few rays of warm light. Orange and pink painted the scene but only in the rare areas the bigger buildings could not reach to block the light from.

Virgil’s heavy boots hit the ground with every step while Patton’s own mode of walking mimicked graceful dancing. He was nearly hopping and floating over the dark concrete in the light of dawn. It was a show of beauty to see him.

The two got a cup holder equipped with several cups of coffees and other hot drinks. They walked back but this time, the silence was swallowed by Virgil’s itching concerns. Their fidgeting got more intense and their fingers started picking at one another so much, the punk felt the plead to ask Patton for assistance on their tongue.

It was difficult, near impossible to erratically scratch and pick at something occupied by the deed to hold the cup holder with multiple scalding drinks.

They gave up on the nervous endeavour of deliberate self-harm when they realised the urge to just do it so intensely they would require support of some sort, they became aware of what exactly they were doing.

This had to end.

Despite their fingers tingling to scrape and pick and rip more, they refused to give in. They stopped before the building they had just come out of, Virgil cutting before their friend.

A jumbled bunch of letters flew from their lips in an oddly shushed mumble.

“P-Patt’n?”

They shuffled their feet a bit, looking down at them. If Patton had to draw Virgil, he would draw them in this position: shoulders slouching, gaze averted and skin vibrating in some vigilance of a distance threat.

It justified the name and behaviour Virgil usually displayed.

As they stood there, shifted from one leg to the other, boots squeaking as they were moved and squished together every now and then, Patton got the familiar urge to hug them while Virgil felt the intense wanton to throw themself into his arms. After all, the ginger giant was still a walking “hug me” sign, a fluffy one on top of that.

“Yes, Virgil?”

Patton’s voice was as light as a snowflake as he spoke with the world’s depot of patience in his little response.

It was a verbal touch to Virgil’s curiously fingers. They had taken to tightly grip onto the grey cup holder with one hand on left and right each. Busy thumbs brushed over the rough material and rubbed against it as if to dig for a treasure that did not exist.

“I.. d-do.. do you think, um..”, they started but broke off, lost eyes roaming over the dark concrete. The darkness started creeping into the day and establish the night’s dominance for a few more hours than usual.

“Do you think.. L-Logan is.. is mad at me?”

Glass green eyes grew wide as a pool of darkness shrunk in horror.

“Oh, honey - Virgil! Logan would never!”

He kept himself from saying more, swallowed the indignation. It was time to be composed and be a good friend and not get upset over something irrational. This was Virgil’s anxiety speaking, not their trust or rational mind, it was pure hurt and bad past experience poisoning a good relationship.

“Listen, Logan and I are best friends and he has not once in his life complained about you, not to me, and he tells me everything. He trusts you and you are good for him. He is changing for the better and becoming more open and warm with you around, Virgil, I am not just saying this to make you happy. It really is happening. If he was upset, I am sure he would have asked me for advice or told me something and he did none of that. He asked me how to help you become more comfortable with us without pushing you - really.”

Patton shifted and started to dig into his pocket to pull out a phone and present the referred to chat logs.

Warm brown eyes tentatively glanced over the messages for signal words, for red flags or similar things to warrant as an evidence for their anxiety to prove its point but there was none.

Black on weird whatever colour they were too blown-away to name at this moment showed how wrong their thinking had been once again. Just a stupid anxiety thing again, not even remotely warranted at all.

“Th...thanks”

They pursed their lips up as if to continue but hesitated enough to just go with the flow of not speaking any further, leaving the word awkwardly hang between Patton and him. Bottle green eyes blinked at them, smiling like an encouraging elementary teacher trying to cheer up a child whose drawing had been referred to as “dumb” by some uncultured swines - uh... other children with a bit more hostility.

“I, um..”, they picked up again, eyes casting downwards bnefore blinking and glancing up at him again, “I needed that. Thanks. It is just, um.. stupid anxiety brain and all.. it just makes me dumb again, or like.. I mean, I uh.. I am not dumb or anything but I just believe the dumb anxiety and that sucks but, like, whatever, right? Can’t deny he is, um, like.. I don’t know, .. not hating me or whatever.”

They clawed at the cup holder.

“Patton, j-”

A sudden g-note hit the air, punching a conditioned smile of fight and solidarity into Virgil’s face.

“PA-PattoN, it is-is him! Ah - um”

Confused jumbles of words pushed through their lips.

No sense was made in the process of this reaction.

The ginger did not understand but he readily perked up in interested, nodding.

“It is okay, it is okay. You are safe and he is probably just curious whether you are okay. Breathe in, take a really deep breath - “

Virgil nodded obediently. Their fingers clung to the rough cup holder. The emo’s chest rose a substantial amount before standing still while Patton counted and nodded with nice smiles. They slowly exhaled after a “seven!” and clear nod.

“Give me the cups and take the call, kiddo. I will go and tell Emile you will be ready after the phone call.”

Hasty eyes met him which he returned with a patient nod not even the ideal monk could have provided. Virgil slowly let go of the rough texture, Patton’s gentle tugs reminding them of letting go. Fingers gradually untangled from the cloud-grey piece of recycled trash and forced a tentative nodding movement onto their head.

They could do that. They could do that.

“Welcome to the Black Parade” was still playing and the song was nearly over. They had to take it!

This novel thought struck his mind like actual thunder. At once, fingers dug into their pockets and picked up even before their ear was close enough.

Virgil did not know how Patton knew the song was the personalised ringtone for Logan but they appreciated how exceptionally witty the harmless pastel hulk was. A flick of their wrist goodbye’d Patton while their other hand reached their thirsty ear.

“Hh-heyh!”

Awfuckfuck, no he fucked up - no, they did! Now they fucked up hard enough to even fuck up their own pronouns. What a trash-

“Greetings, Virgil. I hope you are well.”

Ah. Smooth. Calm.

Logan was the epitome of steadiness.

The composed expression and usual greeting gave Virgil a sense of control. They knew what was about to come: small-talk because Logan thought it helped in social relationships, then some talk about work to elaborate on the things they had in common and eventually a random fact he learned that day or something equally surprising and possibly useless. At least it was something that least them unknown as to what to do with the information but it was not bad at all.

To be honest, they looked forward to it. So much even, their anxiety could not influence the smile of relief taking over their rosy lips.

“Totally. What about you? Work sucked ass today?”

“Virgil, work cannot actively do anything, especially not engage in any deed as interactive as acts of adult intimacy -”

“Wow there, pocket protector. Too early a day to give me so many fancy things to listen to. Anyway, how are you doing?”

Their lips were curled up completely by now. It was a full smile, if not already a grin preparing for the obligatory hilarious thing about to happen. Like it was some kind of scripted exchange between them.

With Logan being included, maybe it was.

“I am doing just fine, only wondering about your well-being. Did you get a sufficient quantity and quality of sleep last night?”

Oh. Right to the point. But speaking of it...

“I, uh.. I am sorry. I - I was being a butt, um..”

Virgil touched their clothed elbow of the arm holding the phone. Their fingers scraped and tugged at the fabric. Brushing, pulling, picking. The soothing feeling of a warm jacket covering them and protecting him was barely enough.

4 - 7 - 8, they reminded themself.

A nod.

Yes, do the breathing thing and focus on Logan.

“I am surprised to hear you apologise, Virgil. To be frank, I neither expected nor wanted an apology for overstepping any boundaries. If you are uncomfortable with me asking too many questions, you are more than welcome to “tell me off”.”

A short break.

Insecure breaths in.

Four seconds.

“Is this the right use of this term? I suppose, so. You are also welcome to correct me, if need be. You should know this but I am willing to remind you of my consistency. However, back to the topic.”

Shaky holding back of nervous oxygen. Seven seconds.

“I am not upset with you at all. Rather, I would say I am... concerned. When I started talking about this subject, my primary objective was to work out your issues in order to help you feel more comfortable. I got the .. the feeling you might need more, um, emotional support, if I may say so.”

Painfully slow release of revolting oxygen for eight seconds.

The voice on the other side became more uncoordinated, shooting past any aim. Logan cleared his throat to fill the silence as Virgil silently breathed themself into a greater sense of stability and safety.

“Apologies. I started rambling again and even brought up these uncomfortable topics. All I wanted to convey is that I have a, so to speak, liiiht proposal to make to you. That being said, I might add this proposal does not include any rings or marriage-related preparation rituals. I am just saying this for clarification, not because I suspect you might assume this. I - ... Virgil, are you still there? Am I “talking your ears off”, as Roman says?”

The small punk heard an odd sound from Logan’s side of the line. They blinked at it, a few wrinkles falling into his skin as he frowned in confusion.

“Uh, hey, chill, dude”, their dark voice replied, “I, er, I am fine and all and you don’t have to do anything for me, anyway. It is cool, cool. Really cool. I, um, told you I won’t be home tonight? I have this thing going on, was planned before and all.”

Virgil shrugged into the air for nobody else but uninvolved strangers to see.

“But, um, don’t worry. I am, like, not mad or anything. I am.. glad? Like, I know I was being a bitch but that does not matter. I.. we are both sorry and that is really cool and.. just, ..just re-really thanks for being so nice about that and respect me and this. I just don’t wanna fuck up things and I know I am being sensitive and all. Uh, yeah..”

They scratched the back of their head.

“Any-”

Virgil started at the same time as Logan’s voice pronouncing “So, -” was transmitted to his side of the call.

The punk chuckled silently. A mere moment later, a sigh of relief could be heard. Virgil could have sworn even his hear was sighing with Logan.

“You go first, Log.”

If anyone had been around to see Logan at the bus stop, they would have witnessed a certain sparkling sensation behind his serious glasses as he made out the nickname Virgil added.

“Thank you, Virgil, I appreciate that - appreciate you.”

The words felt so much heavier than they should have been. They were voluminous gem stones on their chest. Prominent and eye-catching whilst sparkling and somewhat enticing with richness and depth of colour.

On the inside, Virgil knew they would wear Logan’s feelings on their chest, face or simply in their heart if the other would just ask them to.

“Do you want to watch the stars with me? Tonight, I mean - say two hours, perhaps. It would just be you and me. I will take the car and get you if need be. Our university’s Astrology Club has a big telescope and great WiFi. I thought you might be interested but if you are pre-occupied, I understand.”

Virgil absorbed the information, inhaling the connection and heartfelt consideration Logan has put into the consideration.

“I-.. Logan, do- do you mean this as, uh.. as a date? Cuz, like, I don’t know if you do but it is cool if you do and I am not pissed or something, just want to know.”

Another odd sound could be heard from the other side but Virgil was too caught up in anticipation to question the nature of the sound or the vibration in Logan’s breath suddenly hitting the microphone.

“If this does not disrupt whatever your nature of relationship you enjoy with Declyn, then I would love to call it a date. With your consent only, of course.”

Virgil’s heart did a leap. They drew in a hasty potion of oxygen as if to drink it up like the tasty juice of love.

“I would love to. Text me the details, I will see about the car thing.”

They hung up and ran up to Emile, taking two steps at a time. Now they had a certain skip to their steps but they also had a certain beat in their heart when they hitched a hike to their sibling in enthusiastic anticipation.

Maybe this day could be great after all.

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