#in my defense i started at a new job in the meantime

[stop-talking]

Working on the last chapter of a Mike fanfic, so in the meantime:

Mike Schmidt Headcannons

☆ He listens to total loser music. (Weezer, Everclear, Radiohead, Green day. Mostly 90s stuff.)

☆ ABSOLUTELY had an emo phase where he tried to be "punk" but just ended up looking sad. Refuses to talk about it now.

☆ Uses silly made-up curses when he's around Abby. "Aw, shucks!" kind of guy.

☆ 3-in-1 shanpoo/conditioner/bodywash (and still smells clean somehow.)

☆ Likes simple chores like folding laundry. He finds it relaxing. Malewife energy

☆ Once brought a girl over and struggled to explain the goddamn NEBRASKA poster on his ceiling. He stopped trying with women after that.

☆ Used to get really defensive when people mistook him for Abby's dad, doesn't really care anymore. Accepts it.

☆ Hasn't bought himself new clothes in years. Abby gets a new outfit every Christmas & birthday, and at the start of a new school year. Usually secondhand.

☆ When he doesn't respond immediately in conversation, there's a 99% chance it's because he's insulting you in his head.

☆ Made no effort to reach out to any of his old coworkers after losing his mall job. Self-isolating.

☆ DEFINETLY develops trust issues after the end of the movie, if he didn't have them already.

☆ Surprisingly good cook, when Abby first started eating less his first thought was "damn my food must suck" so he bought a cookbook.

☆ LOVES his recliner. He would sleep there if he hadn't already made a routine of torturing himself with the memory of his brother's disappearance every night.

☆ Pet names. Pet names. Pet names. Call him baby and he melts.

☆ Absolutely DREADING the day Abby gets her first period. He's terrified he'll explain things wrong; plans to eventually get Aunt Jane to talk to her about it.

Throwing in a few NSFW headcannons (18+)

☆ Absolutely a switch. He's a bit socially awkward, yeah, but once he's comfortable with you he has no problem taking the lead.

☆ (but also you can easily make him whimper and beg.)

☆ he's a munch. end of story.

☆ Tits > ass. Not always even sexually, he just likes to lay his head down on a nice pair of tits and rest.

☆ Absolutely REFUSES to fuck without a condom, even if you're on birth control. The few times he's either lost control of himself or been convinced to try cumming inside, he nearly had panic attacks. (Because he knows if he DID get a girl pregnant there's no way he'd abandon her or the baby.)

That's all I got, what about y'all?

[gfbrokenlocksau]

Broken locks FAQ

What is Broken Locks?

Broken Locks is a gravity falls au in which Stanley doesn't quite make it to Stanford's house.

He crashes, dies, doesn't realize he's dead, and shambles his ghostly form onwards to his brother's house because by God he will do what he came here for (help his brother).

As he will later realize, Stanley is 1) dead and 2) able to possess Stanford.

The reason he can do it so easily (and can't really possess anyone else) is a side effect of Stanford's Deal with Bill. Our favorite awful little guy wasn't exactly careful when he started wearing Ford like a squishy mascot costume, and he tore down Ford's natural mental defenses against any supernatural things that may want to get their claws in him. Good news for Stan, bad news for Ford.

Cue Stan looking at Ford's trashed house and general state of dishevelment and going, "damn! I gotta fix this".

Why is it called that?

B. Because. The mental "locks" in Stanford's brain are. They're broken. I thought it was clever, okay?

Can Stanley leave gravity falls?

Yes, but he can't use any of his ghostly abilities outside the borders (no possession, no moving objects, no cold breezes. Just watching invisibly).

Do the kids know about Stan?

No and yes. Depends where on the timeline you're at. They do eventually figure it out, roughly around the end of season 1.

In the meantime, they come up with a few different theories!

Does Ford know about Stan?

Well... he's unaware for a while, but does eventually clue in.

Is there a Mystery Shack?

No. Ford wouldn't let Stan do anything like that.

Where is Soos/Wendy?

Soos sometimes fixes things or goes into town to buy stuff for Ford. Wendy has a job in town but sometimes hangs out in the woods near the house.

Why are they those colors?

Please direct your attention to this post! (And this one, for text bubbles)

TLDR: easier to draw, and also, yes, they have meaning behind them.

Why haven't you answered my ask?

1) Tumblr ate it (I'm so sorry. I'm trying to fix this)

2) I'm keeping it until I draw a response

Please be patient! If you are worried Tumblr ate the ask, shoot me a message. I'll respond, I promise!

[waters-and-the-wilde]

fuck it okay i am once again thinking about Jet teaching Nureyev how to cook

it starts with Juno trying to teach Nureyev how to cook, because Juno can cook and Nureyev realizes he's never had the chance to learn how and wants to make a go of it. it Goes Poorly not because Nureyev is a disgrace who sets the kitchen on fire, but because between the way he is as a person and the way Juno is as a person, it's an extremely frustrating experience. Juno Can Cook but that doesn't mean he Can Teach, there are a lot of concepts that he can just take for granted because of like growing up In A House and knowing What Appliances Do. he knows how to throw together some decent meals but not how to Explain The Process and Demonstrate How It Works, 'i dunno it just does okay??'

It's a whole 'can they assemble ikea furniture together' type thing, every time they try Juno gets impatient and Nureyev gets defensive and they wind up bickering and having to troubleshoot their communication again later that evening. maybe they manage to get through making what they set out to do but Nureyev doesn't actually feel like he retained any of the knowledge to be able to do it again next time, and neither of them really enjoy the experience which is a bummer for them both in its own right.

but Nureyev as a guy who can do anything he sets his mind to is like 'nonetheless i must learn to make a breakfast for my lady love for the days when he can't get out of bed.' and he starts watching Jet, who fields most of the family dinner type meals and has a sourdough starter and ferments things. he could ask Jet if he wants help, but it's hard enough trying to learn new things and make mistakes and be bad at things in front of Juno and he's feeling discouraged enough that he does not want to deal with Jet thinking he's just ingratiating and underfoot, or bluntly picking apart everything he's doing wrong, he might actually cry okay? he's already anxious enough about Wasting Food or Causing A Fire or Damaging The Cooking Implements. but if Jet says he wants help that's fine because Nureyev is more than happy to Be Available and in the meantime he'll do his best to absorb things by proximity

Jet does not know why Ransom is hovering in the kitchen watching him cook, but if he cared to know, he would ask point blank. and if Ransom does not want to be voluntold to help with dinner, he would not hover in the kitchen. Nureyev's nefarious scheme is working, insofar as Jet does not respond to hints but he does do what he wants and he wants help with cooking dinner. Nureyev is now in a position to Ask Questions, and the brilliant thing about working with Jet is that Nureyev can in fact Ask A Stupid Question and Get A Stupid Answer concise and matter-of-fact face-value response to something that might otherwise be considered obvious. and if Jet is being facetious, he's doing a damn good job at not showing it (and also he tends to save that up for Juno)

it is still a frustrating experience because Cooking Is Very Difficult and Nureyey is Trying Very Hard and getting distracted and flustered and making just the worst jokes around someone who does not think he is even a little bit funny and is not about to bother to pretend otherwise. and there is absolutely no one better for this right now. because The Thing Is. that Jet Gets It. because he had to claw his way into 'repetition and focus; control over every part' years ago. because it is abundantly clear to him that he is not teaching Ransom How To Cook, but How To Learn New Things When Not Under Extreme Duress. because Jet Has Opinions about Contriving Surprise Factors In The Learning Process and the moment Nureyev indicates that was how he was taught, his immediate response is 'then whoever taught you that that was very irresponsible and should not have done so'

(Nureyev gets very quiet and spacey for the rest of the day and eventually Juno storms into the garage spoiling for a fight, all 'what the hell did you say to him I haven't even been able to find him for the last three hours' and Jet very gravely relays the conversation and 'it was not my intention to upset him but unless he is able to communicate why he is upset, I am in no position to address it' but Juno's just still staring at him and then he sits down and then he starts getting the big sad-eye and then he's like 'never mind Big Guy. hey completely unrelated but can I um. give you a hug?')

[ohdearlingwhathappened]

Chapter 3 Kid x Reader x Killer- And then there were two

Chapter 3- Is that all this was

Content Warning: Angst, Hurt no comfort, there will eventually be comfort- you just ain't gonna find it here, Kid is a warning himself soooo

Chapter 1- Is that all this was?, Chapter 2

I am so sorry for how long this took me. I was recently in a car accident, and with college starting back up and my new job, I think my brain was pretty much melted. I'm hoping I'll be able to get back into a normal writing schedule, so fingers crossed. In the meantime- Enjoy the new Chapter!

A bright light streaming in from Kid’s cabin window found its mark on his face, bringing him out of his less than restful sleep. The man brings his arm over his face, not ready to go out and start his day, but it seems his movement and the sound of the bustling crew up above was enough to draw him even further away from sleep’s alluring grasp.

Groaning out a small string of expletives, the arm covering his face lowers and drags the hand down his face. Waking up alone made the whole ‘waking up' thing a lot harder than he remembered it being- he was much more used to slinging an arm over another body to stall or having one of two people gently rousing him. This morning’s experience just adds yet another drop of regret for Kid’s words from yesterday.

Regardless of his difficulty getting out of the bed, Kid forces himself to roll out of bed- quite literally- and gets dressed for the day. Now that he was a little more aware of his surroundings, the fact that enough of his crew was on deck to cause a bit of commotion gave him some pause. They have been at the safehouse for a couple of days now, so Kid is a little surprised more people aren’t on the shore celebrating being on land again. 

Going up the stairs to get to the main deck, Kid opens up the door only to bump into the last person who would want to see him at the moment. “Ah… Good morning, Captain. I take it you slept well since it’s well past noon, and this is the first anyone has seen of you today.” The tone was unfamiliar and- while not cold- it wasn’t exactly a warm greeting either.

“I actually slept like shit. Couldn’t get comfortable with all the room I’m not used to.” Kid grunts out with a hint of defensiveness, refusing to look away, no matter how much he wants to. Y/n’s shoulders tensed and they clenched their jaw.

“Well, not to worry, Captain. I’m sure you’ll be able to get someone to warm your bed soon enough. If you’re lucky, they won’t jump to any unsavory conclusions.” Never afraid to get to the point and be cutthroat about it- there’s a reason why Y/n fit in with the Kid Pirates so well. The sardonic smile loosely held on their face and biting tone would make just about anyone flinch, and though it was brief and minute, Kid was no exception.

“Y/n-”

“Now, if you’d be oh so kind to get out of my way, I have more duties to fulfill to do my part on this ship. After all, I haven’t proven myself to be worthy of this crew yet, right?” With that, they push past the broad-shouldered man and begin to make their way downstairs. Until, that is, a hand wraps around their bicep to stop them.

“Would you let me speak, Damnit?!”

“I think you said enough yesterday, Eustass.” Y/n’s tone was now frigid, leaving no room for argument. “Besides, you have your ever-important alliance meeting soon- you don’t have time to chat with the likes of me.” With that, they yank their arm from Kid’s grasp and stomps downstairs, waiting until they know he isn’t going to follow to let the tears they’ve been fighting to finally glide down their face.

Kid, not expecting to have this kind of conversation with Y/n this soon, heaves out a sigh before steeling himself and walking out on deck. The crew appeared to be hard at work, cleaning the deck and making sure any valuables were being stocked away to be put under deck. Wire passes by his captain but stops once he sees the confused look on Kid’s face.

“Y/n thought it would be a good idea to clean up for our… guests. They’ve been a bit on edge- probably just nervous about the meeting with Apoo and Hawkins.” Once he finishes filling Kid in, Wire goes back to helping the rest of the crew out. 

There are still a few more hours before the meeting was to begin, so Kid decided to help with a couple of boxes before going into the safe house to work on his side of the negotiations. Killer had helped him set up the parameters of the agreement, to start him off but has most likely left him to his devices after yesterday’s events. The massacre killer would most likely come around to notify him of the incoming ships and will probably stay throughout the meeting to ensure no bloodshed erupts from Kid’s less-than-appealing temper.

This alliance has to go well. 

*      *       *      *      *      *      *

“I can’t do it, Kil.” Y/n sighs, their head resting on his chest and arms wrapped loosely around his waist. “Everytime I look at him I feel like I’m going to implode. I’m so angry, but I love him and want to forgive him, but he hasn’t even said sorry. One second I want to punch him, the next I want to cry and have him comfort me… What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing. You’re hurting.” Killer’s left hand is placed atop their head, his right is wrapped around the back of their shoulders, keeping them close.

“You were dragged into this, and I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have to feel like you need to pick sides between your par- whatever we all are.” Y/n cutting themself off from calling them lovers cut both of them. And despite having no more tears to shed, they hiccup- grieving the relationship that apparently never existed in the first place.

“Look at me-” Killer, holds their chin to bring their eyes to meet his mask, “I love you. You are my partner. And no matter what he says, Kid does too- his head is just too far up his own ass.”

It wasn’t the first time Killer had said he loved them, but it wasn’t a common occurrence and every time made Y/n smile.

“I love you too, Killer,” They took his mask-clad head in their hands and brought it down to place a kiss on his forehead, and then resting their own against his. “But I can’t stay. Not right now.”

Killer stiffened and breathed out a heavy sigh. “Where are you going to go?”

“I don’t know quite yet. I just need time and space away from him.”

Killer doesn’t respond. While he understands their need to go, he can’t help but to worry about their safety- this is the New World, not the South Blue. His hold tightens around Y/n, knowing this could be the last time he gets to do this for a while. “I get it. But please, be careful.”

“Don’t worry about me- I’ll be totally fine. Look, if his plans stay the same, you all should pass by Wano within the next month- and no matter what, I promise you to come back. Nothing will get in my way.”

The usually stoic man had a slight tremble to his frame, never loosening his grip around one of the two most important people in his life, despite feeling like they’re slipping through his fingers. “You better.”

“Promise me you’ll stay safe too.”

“I swear.”

“And make sure that moron doesn’t do anything stupid either. Ok?”

“That’s a big ask, little one, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you, Kil.” 

With their conversation having come to an end, they both stand there, soaking in each others’ warmth and touch, for a few more moments before Y/n pulls away, kisses his mask once more, and makes their way out of the small cabin- leaving Killer alone, wondering how things could have gone this wrong in not even 48 hours.

Taglist: @claxdoesntknow @teddyitalia @baelien-queen @heilee @iamn1ya @gnarlycrys

[lawbyrhys]

The Logan Paul v. Coffeezilla Lawsuit: Part Three

Hopefully, this is the last part of this crazy story.

Here's a situation I never thought I'd be talking about, but here we are! Let's dive on in to Logan Paul's huge defamation suit against Coffeezilla.

Let's continue our breakdown of the lawsuit, starting off with a detailed analysis of Paul's attorney's communications with Findeisen.

By the way, I'll be referring to Coffeezilla as Findeisen in my work about this case because that's his legal last name, and I didn't pass the bar and get a BigLaw job to spend my free time dictating the word "Coffeezilla" into my iPhone as I'm stuck in LA traffic. I'm gonna do it the legit way. Sue me, or don't—you know I'll win. ;)

Check back for updates as the case goes on; I will publish them when I have time to work on them. Let's get into the lawsuit as it stands now.

The letter from Jeffrey Neiman is as follows:

"We represent Logan Paul. Mr. Paul has informed us of your outreach about the status of the CryptoZoo buybacks. Mr. Paul remains committed to this process, and we are working with Mr. Paul to evaluate the best way to achieve this goal. In the meantime, please direct to our attention any further inquiries to Mr. Paul. Thank you for your patience and understanding." - Jeffrey Neiman, Paul's counsel.

What may read to you as a typical email reads to the trained eye as bad news; there are two things missing from this email. I write similar emails all the type, so let me point them out to you. There is no plan or timeline for refunds; there is only a vague mention therein. It reads as though there is nothing tangible being done, but Neiman is being paid to assure the public there will be. It's legalese for, "We're stalling like hell."

Even with Neiman's professional assistance, though, Paul still slips up and admits a shit ton of things Tom Kherkher was gearing up to have to prove in court. As we covered in Part 2, Kherker—also known by his lawtube presence as AttorneyTom—is representing a bunch of Paul's dissatisfied fans in arbitration. In doing so, Paul will likely prejudice the defense of his case by what he's admitted in his filings as it pertains to the arbitration. While Paul never admits his CryptoZoo game was a scam, he does admit it has always been "broken beyond belief," a statement any reasonable person would interpret as such. All of this, while not placing Paul as a victim in the process, because even after six months and a $1.8M commitment, it appears little to nothing was actually paid out.

The claims in a defamation suit can be repetitive at times, so I'm keeping it brief; people do not buy there was ever any intent on Paul's behalf to rectify the situation, pending litigation or not, it's an unpopular idea. Findeisen even claimed Paul would use his participation in this lawsuit to stay silent, which is an excuse Paul has already used once before.

This leads us to Paul's third and final claim in the lawsuit, citing a January 5, 2024 video uploaded by Findeisen entitled "Logan Paul's Refund," where it was alleged Paul was a "serial scammer," orchestrating a "massive con," and that he scammed those who bought into his crypto coin venture. The day before the upload, Paul took to X and posted a link with an accompanying announcement that the CryptoZoo buyback system was operational, adding he'd contributed $2.3M of his own cash towards said buybacks. On this same day, January 4th, Paul sued the developers of CryptoZoo. Paul, therefore, alleged that since Findeisen had a bulk of the court documents and associated evidence at his disposal, any characterization alleging Paul to be a scammer was "false and defamatory."

Findeisen pointed out that Paul's refund offer wasn't as it appeared. Yes, Paul was offering a refund, but he was only offering $2.3M out of an estimated sum of $18M in total damages, as well as the stipulation that accepting the refund waives users' legal rights to participate in any further legal action against Paul, including the aforementioned AttorneyTom lawsuits. All things considered, Paul's offer appears more like an attempt to cover his own ass than it is an example of him giving a shit to make things right. Regardless, though, there's no way to get into Logan Paul's head and know his true intentions with the offer, so it's an almost mute point. One thing that can be proven is CryptoZoo never came; Paul promised he'd "make damn sure" it'd come, but it never did.

Interesting to note, but not something I'll spend much time on; Paul cited a lot of Findeisen's research in his own lawsuit against the CryptoZoo developers. The citations are named as "public reports" in that lawsuit, though. Paul filed a defamation lawsuit against Findeisen for spreading false and defamatory information about him, only to turn around and say everything the latter said about him is true. Paul just doesn't like how Findeisen reports on the situation, so he's suing him. It's a junk lawsuit.

An additional fact as it applies to this suit is that courts have already decided the word "scam" as it applies to cryptocurrency is non-verifiable; it can't be proven true or false. Regardless, it's an opinion that Paul is trying to define it beyond what case law, or societal vernacular, allows.

Paul's lawsuit seeks "compensatory damages for harm to his reputation, emotional distress, punitive damages, and an injunction to prevent [Findeisen] from continuing to report on CryptoZoo." All the standard defamation suit, though it's really just a SLAPP suit being passed off as a defamation lawsuit. Regardless, it's going to be a hard case for Paul to win as Findeisen has all the defenses of a defamation suit, and the former would be hard-pressed to actually prove damages regardless of the ruling.

Findeisen has remained silent on the matter; he is letting his counsel do all of the talking for him.

That's where the case stands today. I may provide updates in the future as my schedule allows, as well as share a short part 4 to give my overall thoughts on the lawsuit at hand. I apologize for how long this shit got, but there was a lot to cover, and you asked for an in-depth breakdown. It didn't take me too long to write, so if you like lengthier breakdowns, let me know.

Please let me know your thoughts on this crazy ass case! Do you have any further questions? If so, please do not hesitate to ask. Otherwise, I'll be back with my thoughts as soon as I can.

[icherishyou]

sat, 4 nov 2023

before the 4th november ends, I'd like to say something from a new me, who has been 17 for 10 years.

I've been the happiest person for these past few months since I finished my thesis' final defense (around end of july and early august). I

•make a lot of new friends •hang out a lot like a normal teenager •have graduated from master's degree •have part-time jobs •have great siblings, family, friends, and environment •etc

like I have everything... ummm okay, unless I have a boyfriend (but at least I have a crush now even though he is so far away). but I'm still so grateful for being loved by many people I couldn't imagine would love me this way and this big.

life could be so unfair yet so full of surprise (I like surprise). and in the meantime, I hate to admit it. for my whole life, I've spent a lot of time planning my life from the atomic schedule, just so my life is well-planned and running in the same order everyday. but just like the wise man said "we could plan, but Allah is the best planner" and I'm so thankful to Allah for everything I had. somehow I start thinking some parts that happen in my life do make sense now. Alhamdulillah...

I still have a lot of things to do, to achieve, to improve, to handle, and the most important thing is to catch up with everything I left behind. but at least I am so grateful for living my best life now.

when your love language is a "gift", and getting cake alongside a taylor swift movie tour for the gift can boost your serotonin (thank you vid and ical), it's hard to sleep now. I want to live in this moment forever (yet I haven't eaten my takoyaki yet and I want to continue the recent series I watch), but my skincare will cry if I ignore my sleeping schedule.

so, happy birthday to me...

I wish the best for me, my family, and my friends. I also wish for peace and a better place for the Palestinian. how could vampires live for centuries if it was just a war that appeared on the news.

[bllsbailey]

Why Is the UAW Shilling for Hamas?

Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't the primary purpose of the United Auto Workers (UAW) union to secure good wages, benefits, and job security for Americans working for the major automobile manufacturers and the subsidiary industries thereof?

If so, why are they whining about Gaza? How does any of that forward the interests of American auto workers? Because, in an X post on Thursday, that sure seems to be what the UAW is doing.

One more thing: The purpose of the Democratic National Convention is to put on the pretense of nominating the Democratic presidential and vice-presidential candidates. (Yes, we all know that in this cycle, that's a sham; the decision was made weeks ago when they pulled the plug on the Biden reelection effort.) So why must they allow a "Palestinian American" to speak? To what end, other than virtue-signaling?

Yes, I know, I just answered my question. For Democrats, virtue-signaling has always been a good enough reason in itself. And I won't even get into the UAW not knowing that the United States is a constitutional republic, not a democracy. But the UAW shilling for Hamas — that's a new one.

See Related: United States Pressuring Israel to Pull Out of Gaza, Leave Hamas in Charge 

DNC Crowd Chants 'Bring Them Home' for Parents of American-Israeli Son Held by Hamas—but Miss the Point

If the Democrats, or anyone else for that matter, wants a lasting peace in Gaza, or at least what passes for a lasting peace in that part of the world, here are some conditions Israel might lay out that could achieve that goal.

1) Hamas to release all remaining hostages, alive or dead, without qualification or condition, immediately.

2) All Hamas fighters and leaders to surrender, unconditionally, and surrender all weapons to the Israel Defense Forces.

3) Any Hamas fighters who took part in the invasion of Israel in October of 2023, and any Gazan residents who held or assisted in the holding of hostages, are to be tried as war criminals.

4) Hamas's leadership to be extradited to Israel, from Qatar or anywhere else, to likewise be tried as war criminals. 

5) Hamas's governing infrastructure in Gaza to be disbanded. Any current or former Hamas members are permanently barred from holding any elected or appointed government position in Gaza.

That seems like a good start. Get on your buddies in Gaza, UAW. Tell them if they want the fighting to stop, give back the hostages and surrender.

Granted, there will never be a lasting peace in that part of the world. The best Israel can hope for out of this mess is a peace that gives them a generation or so breathing room — and Hezbollah, I would point out, still hovers in Lebanon, to the north, with weapons provided by Iran and tens of thousands of fighters.

In the meantime, let's hope that the UAW's rank and file are lighting up the union's officials over this overt act of pandering.

The Democratic National Convention is on its last day. For the most complete coverage of this and all of the associated lunacy, please consider upgrading to a VIP account.  VIP status will open a plethora of stories and podcasts here at RedState. And remember that a Gold-level account gets you access to all of our sister sites in Townhall Media: PJ Media, Twitchy, Hot Air, Bearing Arms, and Townhall.com. Use promo code FIGHT for a 60% discount.

[aaaaiuio-writing-sideblog]

Apocalypse

My name is Anton. I live in Russia.

I returned to my city once again to get the books. Because I needed to fix a few things in my house.

I stepped in once beautiful city ark. I love my city and all these years I missed it! This city had absolutely everything.

I slowly walked across streets every place here is filled with memories:

Expensive shops where I bought new video games and cheap markets where I often helped my parents with buying groceries. The huge hospital where I was always afraid to go and the tiny pharmacy where my mom used to buy cough syrup. And bank where my older brother Misha worked.

My brother Misha…

I miss him so much.

Also there were office buildings where people in the suits worked. Cozy coffee shops where I often stopped to drink raspberry tea on cold fall evenings. Expensive restaurants where I hated going because everyone was so snobby. I used to think that they were robots when I was young.

Of course it’s not like any of this matters now…

I was tired after long way so I sat down on a cold, cracked asphalt. I pulled out water and took a few sips.

With all this I forgot to write today’s date in my notebook: November 3. Today is my birthday. I’m 23 now. I’m legally considered an adult.

I picked up a glass shard from the ground. I looked like an adult would too. My hair gathered in a short ponytail, a beard and a bruise from an unsuccessful shaving attempt.

But I’ve never felt like an adult. I’m not mature and I’ve never filed my taxes, never had a job, never smoked a cigarette, never drank alcohol, never got a driver’s license and I’ve never went to college.

Heck I’ve never even got past the 7th grade.

I closed my notebook and took a deep breath. I’ve still got a mission to complete.

I slowly stood up. After all these years I still remember the way to the library.

I was quite happy when I saw the building relatively untouched apart from a few broken windows. Inside the books were still on their shelves.

I started searching the shelves.

No not that and not that, not that, no, no, no… oh here it is.

Suddenly I heard a lot thud I threw my book in my backpack and ran towards the noise. I was ready to attack (or defend myself)

But I wasn’t really ready for this confrontation.

I saw a person, a living person for the first time in 9 years.

In the meantime the stranger noticed me and turned towards me putting his hands in defensive position.

He was wearing a sweater, black pants and boots. He had long hair and beard.

Suddenly I started to notice that he looked a lot like my brother. He had the same black, curly hair and green eyes. His bracelet was similar to the one I gave my brother back in the day. I wasn’t sure that it was him but still asked:

“Misha?” - was my question to him

“Anton!” - happily exclaimed my brother

He ran towards me and pulled me into the hug.

This was the happiest moment of my life.

I’m not alone in this world.

[aaaaiuio]

Story: Apocalypse

I can't escape this forever I need to post this

So this is a story that I have written based on a school exersise (please don't ask how it happened I'm confused myself)

I have versions in Russian and Ukrainian I can post them if you want (although they differ from one another because I changed the parts that I didn't like in initial version when translating)

TWs: brief mentions of smoking and alcohol, themes of loneliness and grief (please tell me if I missed anything)

My name is Anton. I live in Russia.

I returned to my city once again to get the books. Because I needed to fix a few things in my house.

I stepped in once beautiful city ark. I love my city and all these years I missed it! This city had absolutely everything.

I slowly walked across streets every place here is filled with memories:

Expensive shops where I bought new video games and cheap markets where I often helped my parents with buying groceries. The huge hospital where I was always afraid to go and the tiny pharmacy where my mom used to buy cough syrup. And bank where my older brother Misha worked.

My brother Misha…

I miss him so much.

Also there were office buildings where people in the suits worked. Cozy coffee shops where I often stopped to drink raspberry tea on cold fall evenings. Expensive restaurants where I hated going because everyone was so snobby. I used to think that they were robots when I was young.

Of course it’s not like any of this matters now…

I was tired after long way so I sat down on a cold, cracked asphalt. I pulled out water and took a few sips.

With all this I forgot to write today’s date in my notebook: November 3. Today is my birthday. I’m 23 now. I’m legally considered an adult.

I picked up a glass shard from the ground. I looked like an adult would too. My hair gathered in a short ponytail, a beard and a bruise from an unsuccessful shaving attempt.

But I’ve never felt like an adult. I’m not mature and I’ve never filed my taxes, never had a job, never smoked a cigarette, never drank alcohol, never got a driver’s license and I’ve never went to college.

Heck I’ve never even got past the 7th grade.

I closed my notebook and took a deep breath. I’ve still got a mission to complete.

I slowly stood up. After all these years I still remember the way to the library.

I was quite happy when I saw the building relatively untouched apart from a few broken windows. Inside the books were still on their shelves.

I started searching the shelves.

No not that and not that, not that, no, no, no… oh here it is.

Suddenly I heard a lot thud I threw my book in my backpack and ran towards the noise. I was ready to attack (or defend myself)

But I wasn’t really ready for this confrontation.

I saw a person, a living person for the first time in 9 years.

In the meantime the stranger noticed me and turned towards me putting his hands in defensive position.

He was wearing a sweater, black pants and boots. He had long hair and beard.

Suddenly I started to notice that he looked a lot like my brother. He had the same black, curly hair and green eyes. His bracelet was similar to the one I gave my brother back in the day. I wasn’t sure that it was him but still asked:

“Misha?” - was my question to him

“Anton!” - happily exclaimed my brother

He ran towards me and pulled me into the hug.

This was the happiest moment of my life.

I’m not alone in this world.

[theodoradove]

"All this part of the business was the commonplace mechanics of the detective-novelist’s job. The new and exciting thing was to bring the love-problem into line with the detective-problem, so that the same key should unlock both at once. I had Harriet, feeling herself for the first time on equal ground with Peter, seeing in the attractions of the intellectual life a means of freeing herself from the emotional obsession he produced in her, and yet seeing (as she supposed) that the celibate intellectual life rendered one liable to insanity in its ugliest form. I had Peter, seeing the truth from the start and perfectly conscious that he had only to leave her under her misapprehension to establish his emotional ascendancy over her. The temptation to take advantage of her mistake had to present itself to him in some form or other. That he should consider abandoning the investigation and leaving the upshot in doubt was too crude. It would be enough if, while she was still hesitating, he was tempted to use his physical charm to precipitate an emotional surrender from which there could be no subsequent return. I presented him with three opportunities for betrayal: once when Harriet exposes her own weakness in a sentimental moment on the river; again, when in the Botanical Gardens he warns her against letting emotions interfere with judgment; and finally, when she throws herself into his arms under the shock of finding the mischief-maker’s malice turned against herself. In the meantime, I had made Harriet’s surrender easier by letting her see Peter's weaknesses instead of (as hitherto) his strength: his jealous irritation at the misdeeds of a prodigal nephew; his personal vanities, his carefully concealed sentimentalities, his resentment of his own small stature and its compensating outbursts of childish exhibitionism; the mere helplessness of physical fatigue and so forth; and had further enhanced his attractions by making somebody else fall in love with him. I had also, to my great delight, succeeded in working into the book my original idea of a proposal from another man, in the imbecile episode where Mr. Pomfret avows his undergraduate passion in the grim presence of the Proctor. Thus, the train was laid for the overthrow of Harriet’s defenses if Peter chose to fire it.

"This was where the theme of intellectual integrity came in. Peter's honesty of mind had to tell him that if Harriet accepted him under any sort of misapprehension, or through any insincerity on his part, they would be plunged into a situation even more false and intolerable than that from which they started. She must come to him as a free agent, if she came at all, and must realize that she was independent of him before she could bring him her dependence as a willing gift. At all costs, and even at the risk of losing her altogether, he must prevent her from committing the greatest treason: 

To do the right deed for the wrong reason, 

and (through the machinery of the detective plot) show her the final baseness of which love was capable before he could asks her to risk the adventure with him."

The essay “Gaudy Night” by Dorothy L. Sayers, discussing the hows and whys of her writing of the novel. First published (in a longer version) in Titles to Fame (1937), edited by Denys Kilham Roberts, in which several authors reflect on their most well-known work.

I could not marry Peter off to the young woman he had (in the conventional Perseus manner) rescued from death and infamy, because I could find no form of words in which she could accept him without loss of self-respect. I had landed my two chief puppets in a situation where, according to all the conventional rules of detective fiction, they should have had nothing to do but fall into one another’s arms; but they would not do it, and that for a very good reason. When I looked at the situation I saw that it was in every respect  false and degrading; and the puppets had somehow got just so much flesh and blood in them that I could not force them to accept it without shocking myself. So there were only two things to do: one was to leave the thing there, with the problem unresolved; the other, far more delicate and dangerous, was to take Peter away and perform a major operation on him. If the story was to go on, Peter had got to become a complete human being, with a past and a future, with a consistent family and social history, with a complicated psychology and even the rudiments of a religious outlook. And all this would have to be squared somehow or other with such random attributes as I had bestowed upon him over a series of years in accordance with the requirements of various detective plots.

Thanks, smokeandsong, for sharing this!

Bonus: the first page of a typescript of the essay (from the Dorothy L. Sayers Papers at the Harry Ransom Center, University of Texas at Austin):

[tuiyla]

I finally found someone who shares my views 🙌. You honestly have no idea how hard it is to find someone like that in glee fandom I’m not even joking. I was wondering if you could help me I’m trying to see about protagonist centred morality and how narrative lets them get away with shit and I was wondering do you have a top 5 moments of bad things finn, schue and puck did? They are the only 3 who seems to get away with everything on the show

Okay wow, I don't know how a month went by since you sent this but here we are. Hi Anon. I'm not sure which views in particular you're referring to lol but IIRC it was the anti Finn and general anti Glee's shitty framing posts, right? Well, in any case happy to be someone people can relate to.

I'd love to hear more about whatever project it is you have going on because it's a fascinating topic. Sorry I couldn't be of help earlier but I'm hoping you'll reach out if/when you see this. Anyway, to start off the actual reply I'll just say that I'm not sure I'd lump Puck together with those two. For me, Finn and Will exist on a very unique level where they show seems wholly unaware of or unwilling to discuss their bad behaviour. Puck, while he does do yucky things and sometimes without repercussions, is overall considered to be a bully from the beginning and has themes of people expecting the worst from him and him doubling down on that. So I wouldn't say he gets away with everything. What he does get away with is pretty heinous, though.

So if we're specifically talking weird narrative framing and a disconnect between what Glee portrayed and how it treated that behaviour, we'd best start off with just that. This isn't an ordered list so rearrange into a top 5 as you see fit.

Puck gets Quinn pregnant: Even my own wording here is much more diplomatic than the actual scene deserves. I've gone into detail before and I can dig up those posts if you'd like but bottom line is that Glee views this as a consensual act between two foolish kids that has serious consequences. The narrative blames them equally, though tbh Quinn a little more because misogyny. But what Glee shows the viewer in 1x22 is an extremely dubious situation with Quinn verbally hesitating and Puck pushing more alcohol on her, not to mention the reveal that he lied about protection thus committing an act of assault in and of itself. Because this was 2010 and written by three men, they saw nothing wrong with this. To modern audiences, it's hard not to view Beth's conception as very questionable, at best.

Finn is the hero in Santana's coming out: I don't wish to dwell too much on this because frankly I've done so enough and it's self-explanatory. Also it makes my blood boil lol. It's mindboggling how they actively retcon Mash Off in IKAG and pretend Finn just really cares about her, actually. Disgusting.

Will's treatment of the kids Mercedes in Booty Camp: And really all of season 3 because he acted like his life depended on them winning Nationals Will's almost always framed as this benevolent father figure and the narrative has the nerve to blame Mercedes for deserting. His behaviour towards her was unacceptable and his double standard was glaring. And yet, we needed antagonists for ND and so the Troubletones was chosen to be in opposition. And for that to happen we needed Mercedes to leave. There are a lot of Will moments but I think the framing might be most glaring here.

Finn tells the Fabrays about the baby: All of this could just be Finn's greatest hits and I shall make him take the last two spots because as shitty as Will is, he's less obvious with most of his bs. So this is another thing I keep coming back to because I simply cannot comprehend how and why the show allowed this to be Finn's decision and his only and how it never once considered judging him for it. Regardless of the baby mess and how Quinn treated him, Finn had zero right to announce Quinn's pregnancy and the callousness with which Quinn getting kicked out of her home is treated is appalling. The show doesn't stop for a second to consider that this might not have been for the best, actually.

Finn beats up Brody: Another shitty Finn moment, another opportunity for me to wonder what the writers were smoking. This isn't one I've talked all that much about before but oh boy. How could Glee turn Finn's violent and frankly psychotic moment into something heroic? Something romantic? He beats up a guy for being a sex worker and we're supposed to find it romantic. Even though they're not together with Rachel and all Brody did was lie. Which was an issue but Glee never deals with that, no, it judges sex work wholesale and has our hero violently attack another guy. Only for Rachel to swoon at the knowledge that Finn would do that for her. Girl, get a restraining order.

So yeah, I hope that was along the lines of what you were looking for. Obviously there's a lot to be said about each and I really focused on kicking Finn while he was down (funny how people do that, huh) but Will's framing is constant throughout the series. Like I said, I disagree about Puck but he does have this one big one and some smaller instances.

[ofstoriesandstardust]

chapter 2 - no such thing as a white lie (lt. bradley “rooster” bradshaw)

a/n: yeah i know everyone and their cats have written dogfight football into their fics but i eat that shit up nom nom. enjoy. also, i’m dead serious that divorce in the military is really fucking complicated. s/o to @struggling-with-nsfw​ for forever listening to me complain about it and helping me struggle my way through. if you asked to be added to the tag list but don’t see yourself on there, i am so sorry! some of the asks got lost in the sift of notifications so please just shoot me another message!

summary: “Why is a divorce in the military more complicated than regular divorces?”

“I don’t know, because it’s the military? Just give me these.”

-

The idiots realize they’re up against way more than they originally anticipated. In the meantime, there’s time for shenanigans and some good ol’ dogfight football. 

main masterlist | top gun: maverick masterlist | flight risk masterlist | story description | chapter 1 - how did we get here? | chapter 3 - heartache and heartbreak

folks who wanted to be tagged: @justanothermagicalsara​ @jake-h-ngm-n-seresin @fangirl-316​ @herladyshipxx​ @callsign-valley​ @parker-natasha​ @myhomeworksnotdone​ @kyramaximoff​ @pulisvertz​ @lass-that-is-gone​ @frenchtoastix​ @coco-loco-nut​ @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy​ @torresbarnes​ @skyes-universe​ @supernaturaldawning​ @you-had-me-at-dead-welsh-kings​ @katiemcrae​ @gretagerwigsmuse​ @the-winter-marvel33​ @some-lovely-day​ @unordinare​ @hotch-meeeeeuppppp​ @annedub​ @hope-love-equality2​ @coyotesamachado​ @hopefulinlove​ @deidreexx

warnings: swearing, angst, flashbacks, Bradley’s an idiot, y’all asked for a flirty Hangman and jealous Rooster and I’m more than happy to deliver, the movie had one job and that was explain dogfight football obviously, is this even good idk

word count: 4,478

"You’re up bright and early.” You turn from where you’re making pancakes to see a half-asleep Bradley, still in his pajamas. You try not to let your eyes trail down to where his sweats hug his waist. You bring your gaze back up to meet his eyes, where he’s rubbing the sleep out of them. You shrug. 

"We’re going to the beach today, remember? Didn’t want to be running late.” Truth was that you hadn’t been able to sleep, too preoccupied as you thought about your impending divorce to the brunette who was letting you stay in his guest room and the ever-growing knawing in your chest at the thought. He yawns, settling at the table. 

“Oh yeah. You don’t have to go to that if you don’t want to.” You roll your eyes as you pull the last of the pancakes off the stove. 

“We do have to sell the lie Bradley. Besides, I like the beach and don’t have anything better to do.” He nods but doesn’t say anything as you set the pancakes down on the table. He smiles at you as you turn around to grab plates out of the cabinet. 

“Why, thank you honey. We make such a good married couple.” He drawls and you roll your eyes. 

“Yeah well, you’re getting your own coffee.” You say as you sit back down, grabbing your own cup. He sighs dramatically as he pushes himself up from the table. You snicker into your mug as he rounds the table, grabbing his own mug and pouring himself a cup. “Drama queen.” You mutter as you began to grab pancakes. He scoffs in response as he returns to his seat. “What is dogfight football anyways?” 

“It’s football but offense and defense at the same time.” You stare at him, mid-bite.

“How the hell does that work?” He shrugs, grabbing pancakes of his own. 

“I don’t know, it just does. Started out as a team bonding activity but now it’s really just a way for us to all hang out.” You nod. 

“Who’s all going to be there?” 

He pauses for a moment as he chews. “The whole crew from the other night, along with everyone else. So Halo, Omaha, Fritz, Yale, and Harvard are the new ones.”

“God, I suck with names.” You mutter and he chuckles. 

“You’ll be okay. Halo’s the only other girl and Yale and Harvard got their names because they never shut the fuck up about their time at Yale and Harvard. You’ll get the other two pretty quickly.” You nod. “Oh, and Mav will be there.” 

“Mmm, speaking of, how do you think last night went?” The two of you had gone over to Maverick’s place for dinner, and Iceman had been there. He tilts his head, a sign he’s thinking the words over. 

“I think it went pretty okay. Mav loves you obviously.”

“Obviously.” 

He smirks. “But yeah, I think Ice bought it?” 

You raise your eyebrows. “Really?”

“Do you not?”

“Either he didn’t buy it or he didn’t like me.” Bradley chuckles. 

“No, that’s just how he is. Ice is just very... stone-cold. He earned the callsign Iceman for a reason.” Bradley glances up at you, taking in the disbelief on your face, and shakes his head. “Sunshine, I’m serious. He told me last night that I did good. You’ve got nothing to worry about. Everyone likes you and no one suspects a thing.” You snort. 

“Phoenix does not like me.” He sighs, setting his fork down on his plate. 

“Yeah, well, that might have something to do with the fact that I told Phoenix.” You widen your eyes. 

“Not that I care but doesn’t that go against the whole point of lying?” He shrugs. 

“She suspected something was up anyways. She just thought we were separating.”

“Technically, that’s not untrue.” You remind, pointing a finger at him. 

“Yeah, I know. But I’ve known her for a long time, didn’t feel right to lie to her.”

“So, you’ll lie to Maverick but not Phoenix?” He shoots you a look and you throw your hands up in the air in surrender. “Fine, fine, whatever.” You mumble. “While we’re speaking about it, have you actually looked into the process for getting a divorce?” 

He shrugs. “Kind of, why? Shouldn’t be that complicated if it’s uncontested.” 

“Okay, have you looked into getting divorces in the military?” He pauses, looking up at you. 

“Is it different?” You narrow your eyes, leaning forward. 

“Bradley, yes.” You sigh, putting your fork down as you grab the stack of papers  you had printed off at three am last night that were sat off to the side. His eyes widen as he takes them from you, flipping through them. 

“When did you have time to look at all this?” 

You shrug. “Last night. Couldn’t sleep. I ended up going down a rabbit hole.”

“Why is a divorce in the military more complicated than regular divorces?” He mutters.

“I don’t know, because it’s the military? Just give me these.” You say, grabbing the papers from him. He sighs. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll see if I can’t figure this out.” You sigh, rolling your eyes. 

“We’re gonna need outside help. Did you know the Navy will provide us both with free legal counsel but not legal representation?” He snorts. 

“That’s not a thing.” 

“Yes, it is!”

“Where’d you learn that?”

“Google.” 

“Google’s an unreliable source.” He says and you shoot him a look in return, tossing the papers on the counter. 

“Fine, you figure it out. I’m going to get ready for the beach.” 

-

The car door shuts behind you as you sigh, welcoming the warmth of the sun on your skin. You make your way to the group of pilots who are standing with Penny and who you think is her daughter Amelia. Bradley grabs your hand as you get closer. It’s for appearances, you remind yourself as Penny turns, waving the two of you over. He squeezes your hand as you reach the group but you’re unsure if he even realizes that he does it. 

“Bradshaw! Sunshine!” Fanboy exclaims and you roll your eyes, even though they can’t see it from behind your sunglasses. The pilots exchange greetings as Penny offers you a hug. 

“This is my daughter Amelia.” She says, gesturing to her daughter, who’s sat on the blankets, watching the pilots goof off. You smile, setting your bag down and sitting next to her. 

“Mav said we could start without him.” Coyote says, slinging an arm around one of the unfamiliar pilots shoulders. “Something about oversleeping.” Bradley nods. 

“Oh, by the way. Omaha, Fritz, Halo, Yale, Harvard, this is my wife.” You wave to the pilots and they give various greetings. 

“Are we playing or what?” Hangman calls from further down the beach, where he’s already standing with Payback, Phoenix, and Bob. Bradley hesitates and turns to look at you. 

“You good if I leave you here?” You nod, giving him two thumbs up. He offers you a goofy grin and jogs after his friends and you find yourself smiling at his retreating figure. You chat mindlessly with Penny as you watch the group spread out, creating makeshift teams. Penny snickers as you watch the men of the group pull their shirts off. You’d always known Bradley to be attractive and you’d known the Navy had done him favors but damn. And well, Hangman wasn’t entirely hard on the eyes either. 

“You’re admiring.” Amelia teases and you shoot her a look. 

“Listen, I might be married but that doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to look.” You say, eyes already following Bradley again as he tackles Hangman. You had overheard the two yelling about being team captains, which sounded on brand for the little Bradley had shared with you about their friendship. Your statement pulls a laugh from Penny. 

“You’re only watching Bradley sweetheart.” She says, flipping a page in her magazine. You blush as Amelia snickers. 

“You’d never know the two of you have been married as long as you have with the way you look at the boy.” Your cheeks grow hotter as you turn to see Maverick grinning at you. He leans down to give Penny a kiss and you turn to Amelia, sharing a knowing smirk with her. 

“I thought they weren’t dating.” You fake-whisper, well aware the adults behind you can hear you. 

“They’re not.” She fake-whispers back and the two of you giggle as you turn back to the couple behind you. Maverick rolls his eyes and Penny shakes her head, suppressing a smile. Maverick heads down the beach and you watch as the group greets him. You sigh, sitting up to grab your book from your bag. 

“Sunshineeeee!” Hangman calls and you look up to see him jogging towards you. 

“What?”

“Come play, our numbers are off since Pops joined.” You sigh, standing up. 

“I guess I could, but I probably won’t be any good.” He shakes his head. 

“Doesn’t matter, Bradshaw will kill us if we hurt a hair on his wife’s pretty little head.” You snort as you pull your shirt off. He lets out a low-whistle and you feel yourself blush. “His pretty little wife, who’s also got a pretty-”

“Hangman.” Penny says sternly and you snicker. You pull your hair up as you follow the blond back down the beach. The group turns to you as you approach. 

“Okay, how do I play?” Maverick turns. 

“You’ll be on Hangman’s team.” Bradley grumbles and you give the brunette a side glance. Probably just to keep up appearances, you tell yourself. “It’s offense and defense at the same time. We really just need you to even out our numbers, so don’t worry too much.” 

“See, I watched Phoenix tackle Fanboy earlier so I think maybe I should be worried.” You say cautiously, biting your lip. She laughs, shaking her head. 

“I won’t tackle you, I swear.” You’re not entirely sure you believe her but nod anyways as the groups break apart. The game passes without much work on your part, the pilots competitive streaks doing most of the work. Eventually, you and Bob call it quits and you sit down next to the pilot, a little ways away from the group. Bob snickers as you once again get distracted watching Bradley chest bump with Coyote. He shakes his head and you look at him, sheepish. He opens up his mouth to say something but he’s interrupted by Fanboy loudly announcing he’s done and the group, save for Hangman, Phoenix, and Bradley, agrees. Rooster and Phoenix are off to the side talking to Maverick and Hangman waves you over. You bid Bob goodbye as he turns, trekking his way back up the sand with the rest of the group. 

“Yes Hangman?” You call and he smirks. 

“We're gonna throw the ball around a little bit, figured you might want to join us.” You shrug, placing your hands on your waist. 

“Sure, but I won’t be very good. Lack of coordination and all that.” He nods, handing you the foam football. 

“I know, which is why I’m gonna show you how to throw it.” He shows you how to properly wrap your hands around it, positioning your feet, and even goes so far as to help guide your arms, something he could’ve easily done without putting his hands on you. It’s a move that doesn’t go unnoticed by the three a bit away from you and you certainly don’t miss Bradley’s frown at the sight of it. Once they’ve turned back to their conversation, Hangman lets you go and takes a step back. “Alright, should be good to go. Throw the ball.” You do and it hits Bradley square in the back. You wince, feeling yourself go red. Hangman’s roaring with laughter as the three turn to face you. 

“Sorry Bradley.” You call, cringing at what you did. Maverick chuckles, turning to walk back up the beach. 

“You’d do well to remember what I said about adultery Seresin.” Maverick calls as he walks away and you find yourself going even redder at the comment. Phoenix is laughing as Bradley grabs the football from the ground. They move towards you and you smile sheepishly at him. 

The football begins to get passed between the four of you, not going entirely well. Your throw is improving bit by bit, but the catching skills just quite aren’t there. The ball almost never stays in your grasp and more often than not, you miss it entirely. There’s chatter passing between the pilots as you sit there and listen in, finding a comfort in the friendship the three seem to share. 

Eventually, Hangman and Phoenix call it quits and turn to make their way back up the beach. A few more passes get thrown between the two of you until you make a particularly sweet catch and Rooster lets out a whistle. You laugh, turning on your heel and bolting down the beach. 

“Wha- Hey, that’s not part of the game!” He yells behind you and a quick glance behind you tells you that despite his comment, he’s chasing you down the beach. Perfect. 

“It is now!” You yell back and continuing running down the beach. You’ll never be able to outrun him but the cheers of his team spur you on as you move towards the water, hoping the muddy sand will slow his pace. It doesn’t though and all too soon, you feel a body collide with yours, nearly tipping you into the water below. The football falls out of your hands as you yelp. Bradley’s arms come out to wrap around you, lifting you up and keeping you from falling into the water. You turn your head, meaning to give him a witty comment, when you realize how close he is to you. 

Your eyes flicker down to his lips and you swallow. 

He’s right there. 

“Gotcha.” He whispers, licking his lips. 

The waves are cascading over your feet and up onto your knees and thighs but you find you don’t care. 

It would be so easy to just-

Your heart is hammering against your chest and it feels like everything stops when he leans ever so closer-

Hangman lets out a yell, something distinct and in the distance but it’s enough to break the two of you out of your bubble. He slowly lets you down, feet hitting the sand, but his arms don’t move as he looks at you for a moment longer. You wiggle out of his arms, taking a step back. Moment’s over. 

This isn’t real. 

You sigh as you take another step back, turning to find the football you had dropped. 

This wasn’t real. Get it together.

Bradley lets out a low whistle, spotting the foam football before you do. You follow his gaze, finding it a few moments after he does. If you squint, you can see the neon green bobbing in the distance, floating away from the two of you with the tide, waves carrying it further out to sea with every passing moment. 

“Well, we’re not getting that football back.” 

“Sorry.” You mutter, heat rising to your cheeks. If it has more to do with the moment that just passed between you and Bradley then the lost football, well then, that’s between you and the universe. 

“No worries, it’s like what, $5 dollars? Footballs can be replaced.” 

You nod numbly, shouldering past him to move back up the beach. Tears prick at your eyes as you let out a few deep breathes, willing yourself to hold it together as you near the group. 

It’s never been real. 

Bradley arrives just behind you, him arm finding his way across your shoulder as he begins discussing plans for the rest of the afternoon with his team. His hand is sitting on your shoulder, gently rubbing circles into the skin, a movement you don’t think he’s conscious of. 

It makes your skin burn. 

You wish he wasn’t touching you, that you didn’t have to be so close to him, to have to continue to pretend. 

The sound of the group making plans is a distant noise and you only realize they’ve decided to disperse as everyone packs their things. Bradley hands you a bag to take back to the Bronco and you numbly head towards the parking lot, him hanging back to finish up his conversation with Maverick. You’re just shutting the door of the back, turning to go climb in the front seat when you come face-to-face—well, it’s more like face-to-chest—with Hangman. You don’t miss the fact that he’s still not wearing a shirt. You swallow as your back hits the side of the Bronco and you look up at him, one of his arms coming up to rest against the side of your head, sitting on the truck. You could easily move if you wanted to, and you know he did that on purpose. He leans down, hot breath fanning against your ear. 

“I know.” He whispers. 

“Know what?” 

“That this thing between you and Bradshaw isn’t real.”

You move to jerk away but he’s faster, other hand coming down to wrap around your wrist. 

“How the hell-”

“Phoenix told me. Told all of us.” He supplies, not moving his head. “You know, you’re far too pretty to let Bradshaw lead you on like this.”

“He’s not leading me on. There was an agreement made between us. It’s never been real.”

It’s never been real.

He sighs, only pulling away enough to look you in the eyes. “You really going to tell me you don’t have more than just friend feelings for him?” 

Everything freezes as your breath catches in your throat. 

You do successfully jerk away from him now, pushing him back. His hand drops and he lets go of your wrist. You mutter a “Fuck off.” right as Bradley’s appearing, stepping between you and Hangman, pushing him farther back. 

“What the hell Hangman?” Hangman doesn’t respond, just puts his hands up in surrender as he takes a few more steps back. 

“I got what I wanted.” He says and turns, walking back towards his truck where Coyote is watching him. 

“Yeah, get lost Hangman! Stay away from my wife!” Bradley shouts and your roll your eyes at the words, slipping out from behind him. He turns, reaching out for you and narrowly missing your arm as you round the truck, climbing into your seat. The truck is warm as you lean back against your seat and you take comfort in the heat. You close your eyes and you hear Bradley climb into the car a few moments later. You keep your eyes firmly closed as he starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot, heading back towards his house. Somewhere along the way, Bradley starts talking, even though your eyes are still closed. 

“You asleep?” You shake your head, although you are sleepy. The day and the sun and the heat of the car is making you curl up, wanting to take a nap right there. 

“Just tired.” You mumble. 

“Yeah, I bet. Hey, the team is all gonna go get dinner and some drinks in a few hours if you want to come with?” You don’t say anything, not wanting to spend any more time pretending for people who already knew the truth anyways. He sighs as he makes a turn. “Well, why don’t you shower and let me know?” You shrug, eyes still shut. You drive for a little while longer and eventually, you feel him pull into his driveway. You keep your eyes closed, not wanting to move just quite yet. Bradley lets out a soft chuckle and you can hear him unbuckle his seatbelt after turning the car off, leaning over the center console. He pokes your shoulder and you jerk away from him, eyes fluttering open. “Whoa, sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. We’re home.” 

We’re home. 

His choice of words makes your throat close up, words that in any other context would’ve sounded domestic, would’ve sounded sweet. A couple returning to their home after a day out, ready for a shower and a nap together, before getting dinner later. 

It’s not your home.

You unbuckle your seatbelt, climbing out of the car and shutting the door behind you. You unlock the door with your key as Bradley grabs the bags from the back and you welcome the cool air-conditioning of the home. It ripples over your skin, creating goosebumps in its wake. You all but collapse on the couch as Bradley sets the things down, shutting the front door behind him. 

“Hey, I’m gonna go shower, okay?” You nod as you shift to pull your legs up towards your chest. The sounds of the shower turn on and you sit there, eyes looking over the photos on the wall. The other night, you had asked Bradley about them while eating dinner together. He’d gotten up form the table, taking you by the wrist, going through and telling you about each and every one of them. 

One of his parents. They’re young, happy, and smiling. He’d said the photo was taken the night before their wedding. 

Another with his parents. Bradley couldn’t have been more than three years old in the photo. 

One with his Mom at his 10th birthday, his little chubby cheeks rosy, blowing out his candles. 

One from his 7th birthday, on Maverick’s shoulders, a toy plane in his hand. 

Another one with Maverick from a few months ago. You had been told Maverick had the same picture in his hangar. The picture had been taken after their mission that had brought them back together.

One from his graduation at UVA, the black robe with his orange stole adorning him as he stands there with his empty diploma holder. His smile is bright and you remember that day like it was yesterday. 

You had taken that photo of him. 

Graduation was a busy affair and you looked around, seeing if there were any friends you hadn’t gotten to say goodbye to when you spotted him. He was off to the side, watching the families celebrate with a hard look on his face. You called out his name and he turned, a small smile appearing. He moved a few feet towards you and you picked up the pace, meeting him in the middle. You offer him a big smile, adjusting the purse on your shoulder. 

“Bradley, hey, congrats!” 

He chuckles, looking away from you. “Yeah, hey, thanks.” 

“Can I give you a hug or is that weird?” He shakes his head, tassel knocking into his face, reaching an arm out for you. You give him a side-hug, a little too disappointed when it was over. 

The two of you weren’t good friends, maybe friends of a friend, but you liked the brunette and had always hoped to get to know him better. Guess your chance had come and gone. 

“Hey, you’re all alone.” 

He shrugs, looking back over to the crowd outside the stadium. “Yeah, Eli got dragged off by his sister, wanted to take pictures in front of the business building.” 

You nod as his gaze come back to you. “Well, do you want me to take pictures of you?” He hesitates for a moment and then nods, fishing a camera out of his pocket. He adjusts his robe and cap as you take a step back. 

“Fix your stole.” You call and he look down, doing so and then placing his diploma holder in his hands. “Okay, smile!” He does, his dimples popping out and you smile as you capture a few pictures.

Graduation had been months before your marriage agreement, before a tentative friendship began to build between the two of you. But it had started there, with that photo. 

If you could do it all over, would you change any of it?

“Hey, you still haven't showered.” You glance up at him, startling out of your thoughts. 

He was freshly showered, brown hair still damp as it sticks to his forehead. He’s in a fresh pair of shorts, t-shirt clinging to him. Whatever you mean to say to him, whatever excuse you were going to come up with, are overriden by the words that fight their way off your tongue. 

“Hangman knows.” 

He pauses in his walk towards the couch, looking down at you. “What do you mean he knows?”

“He knows. They all know. Phoenix told them.” 

He stares at you, mouth gaping open. “Wh-what?” 

“Look, I don’t want to go tonight.” 

He sighs, but nods. “That’s- that’s fine, I guess. What do you want me to tell them?”

“I don’t know, you figure it out.” You sigh, moving off the couch. “Look Bradley, if you want to lie to Maverick, keeping up some sort of story, some sort of act, for your relationship with him, that’s your business. I think it’s kind of fucked up that you’re lying to him but as your friend, I’ll support you in doing what you think is right. Because quite frankly I don’t know these people and it’s not really any of my business. But God, I didn’t come all the way out here to try and make friends with people who are just going to be ripped out from under me when this is all over, when all is said and done. When the dust settles, you’ll be fine. And so will I, but excuse me for not wanting to get attached to people who won’t be my friend in two months time.”

He gapes at you, one of his hands coming out to wave around in front of him dramatically. “Where the hell is this coming from? You knew what you signed up for. You agreed to do this for me because you’re my friend.” 

You push past him, moving towards the stairs. “Yeah, and that’s the problem.” 

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” You let out a shaky breath, grip on the staircase banner tightening and then loosening again before you turn around to face him. He’s standing a few feet behind you on the bottom step and you take a step down, semi-closing the distance between the two of you. You set your hands on his shoulders, taking a deep breath to steel yourself. 

“Nothing, it’s supposed to mean nothing. Just... go to dinner, have fun with your friends. It’s fine, don’t worry about it, I’m just tired.” You swallow as you turn back around moving up the stairs and into the guest room. The door shuts behind you with a soft click and your heart clenches with the fact that he let you walk away with no protest. You didn’t know if that made you feel better or worse. 

Get it together. 

It’s not real.

[silvokrent]

Long Live the King - 5

In their defense, it was an accident.

Or: The kids are convinced that they killed Dedede and Escargoon. From there, everything goes downhill fast.

Sword couldn’t help but wonder if they might have underestimated the kids.

Granted, he wasn’t exactly in a charitable enough mood to praise their ability to hide. But after an hour of searching every nook and cranny of town, he begrudgingly had to concede that they might have been good at it.

“—running out of options,” Blade was saying. The limp in his leg was slightly more pronounced now, though he was making the effort to not show it. “Who knows where they could’ve holed themselves up in the meanwhile.”

“That’s assuming they didn’t flee the country,” Sword added, unable to keep the sour note out of his voice.

“Their family’s here. Their whole lives are here,” Blade argued. “That’s not a decision they would make lightly.”

“They might.” There was a deceptive stillness to Meta Knight’s words. “If in their panic, they become desperate.”

“This keeps up for much longer, and I’m worried it won’t be just their panic we have to deal with,” said Blade.

The Cappies, while certainly not mental giants, weren’t immune to basic pattern recognition. After months of watching the resulting fallout from Dedede’s one-sided rivalry, they had learned to gauge the warning signs. Understandably, with Sword, Blade, and Meta Knight going door to door, asking, “Has anyone seen the kids?” the Cappies’ response was rather Pavlovian. If they weren’t on high alert before, they certainly were now.

“The townsfolk aren’t going to start rioting.” Sword shook his head, only to regret it a second later when the headache returned with a vengeance. “What was it you called them? ‘Fairly pacifistic’? Panicking or no, it’s not about to come to that.”

“If we do our jobs correctly”—Meta Knight’s gaze remained fixedly on the castle ahead—“then it won’t.”

“Sir,” Blade ventured, “do you think we should speak with Tokkori again?”

“It would be a waste of our time. It’s unlikely he would have any new information to share.” He lapsed into thought, his pace slowing to a degree. “An aerial view could be useful,” he said, almost to himself, “but I doubt he’d cooperate if we asked.”

There was another pause, before Meta Knight resumed his original pace. “For now, we regroup. In the meantime, I’d like to see to your injuries.”

Blade did the equivalent of a full-body flinch, and this time, it wasn’t because of his foot. “It’s fine. It’s not bad.”

“We can handle it,” Sword insisted.

“I’m well aware you can.” His voice softened. “That wasn’t my point.”

Sword cleared his throat. “Perhaps we ought to consult with Kabu,” he said, ignoring the weight of Blade’s gaze as it landed on him, the incredulity behind it like a physical blow. “The Warp Star is housed there, after all, and they have Kirby with them. They might have gone to retrieve it.”

It was a poor attempt at deflecting, and Meta Knight no doubt recognized it for what it was. He didn’t seem to object to the change in topic, however. “Kabu is wise, not omniscient. He would only be able to tell us anything insofar as the kids took refuge there. Since Tiff can call the Warp Star to her, it would be an unnecessary detour.”

The rattle of the drawbridge was offset by Blade’s gait. “Sooner or later, we might have to ask for outside assistance. Even with the three of us searching separately, there’s only so much ground we can cover. The Waddle Dees could—”

“That’s not an option.” Meta Knight's reply was firm. “We need to keep things calm. If Waddle Doo has reason to think that the kids were involved with His Majesty’s disappearance, he might get other ideas on how to go about apprehending them. This needs to be handled internally, until we can speak to them in a controlled setting.”

They crossed the moat, and stopped.

Sword’s hand hovered over the hilt of his weapon. “Somehow,” he said, “I think the Waddle Dees will have their hands full for a little while.”

The courtyard was a wreck. Loose pavers were strewn over the main path, torn from their foundation. The turf was in a similar state of disarray, with clots of uprooted grass and churned earth spilling over the ground. Nearby, a group of Waddle Dees was attempting to clear the rubble from one of Dedede’s many gaudy statues of himself.

“We were only gone for an hour.” Blade shook, though whether from frustration, or pain, Sword couldn’t tell. It was probably both. “What happened?”

Meta Knight was studying several Waddle Dees huddled near the fountain. They were bandaging each other. “An attack, by the looks of it,” he answered.

“Thank the stars,” said a familiar voice, “you’re back!”

The three of them turned to face Waddle Doo, hurrying toward them with a pair of guards in tow.

“We were just in the middle of a headcount.” He skidded to a halt. “When none of my soldiers reported seeing you, we worried you were attacked by the monster.”

“Monster?” Meta Knight repeated.

“You just missed it.” Waddle Doo’s hand kept twitching for his scabbard, while his eye darted between them and the bridge. “It showed up out of nowhere. Tore its way through the inside of the castle before bolting out here, and running off.”

“And you don’t know where it came from?” Meta Knight asked.

Waddle Doo hesitated. “One of the Waddle Dees said that the door to the throne room was torn clean off its hinges. It…It might have come from that wing of the castle, but we’re not sure how something so big could have gone unnoticed.”

Sword didn’t miss the way Meta Knight tensed.

It wouldn’t have been the first time Nightmare sent something through the transporter without Dedede’s or Escargoon’s involvement. Why, though, remained another matter entirely.

Meta Knight cast a look in the direction of the fountain. “Casualties?”

“A few bruises, but nothing serious,” Waddle Doo said. “We’re currently overseeing cleanup. It’s nothing we haven’t done a thousand times before.”

“Did you see where it went?”

“The sentries said it headed east. Toward Whispy Woods, I think.”

“Thank you.” He briefly inclined his head, before spinning on his heel and hurrying back the way they came. Sword and Blade didn’t hesitate to follow.

“Wait!” The sound of footsteps pursued them. “I didn’t tell you about the kids!”

Meta Knight stopped.

“What about them?” he asked, in a voice carefully devoid of inflection.

Waddle Doo didn’t appear to notice the shift in tone. “All of the guards who saw the monster said that Tiff, Tuff, and Kirby were riding it.”

Slowly, Meta Knight turned to face him.

“What kind of monster was it, exactly?” he asked.

“—and I’m saying we should just go. We’ve got enough supplies to last us the next few days, and we have a head start. The longer we’re here, the longer we’re—”

“No. Not until we find them.”

“For what? You already admitted to killing them in front of Sword and Blade!”

“You’re the one who agreed to this plan!”

Tuff threw his arms in the air. “Yeah, that was before we wasted twenty minutes watching this thing go in circles!”

From the shoreline, they watched as Mandúark waded through the shallows, sweeping its head back and forth over the surface. Occasionally, it lifted its snout from the water to scan the banks, before it resumed its search. Kirby kept pace at the water’s edge, pausing every few feet to flip over a stone. So far, the most exciting thing to happen had been Kirby disturbing a crayfish, and getting pinched by it in the process.

“Face it, sis. They’re not here.”

“There’s no way the trail went cold,” Tiff huffed. She shaded her eyes against the glare of the sun, as she scanned the base of the falls. It was barely visible, amidst the foam and spray, but the red outline of Dedede’s hat still clung to the rocks. How it hadn’t yet been swept away by the turbulent water, she had no idea. Either way, its owner had never come back to reclaim it.

She let out a low, inarticulate noise, and kicked the sand. “Bodies don’t just disappear.”

“Sure they do, if they’re in the middle of the woods,” Tuff retorted. “Maybe a coyote ate them. Or the worms got to them first.”

“Bodies don’t decompose that fast, either,” she snapped, pacing in short bursts. “Maybe the monster can’t track scents through water.”

Tuff adjusted the bag strap slung across his shoulder. “‘Top model’ my ass.” He crossed his arms. “We should just cut our losses and leave. Meta Knight’s probably told everyone by now. If they catch up, we’re going to jail.”

“Not necessarily,” said Tiff, with a sigh that did nothing to abate her anxiety. “Minors aren’t usually tried the same as adults, especially for crimes that were an accident. There’s a chance we could get off with a light sentence.”

“Is that a risk we want to take?” Tuff asked. “Besides, you heard Blade—they’re going to take Kirby off Popstar, regardless what happens to us. We’ll never see him again.”

At the sound of his name, Kirby glanced up.

“Do we know that for fact?” Her pace-line was in danger of becoming a permanent fixture. “For all we know, he said that just to get a rise out of us!”

“A rise that you fell for when you confessed to murder.”

“This isn’t helping,” she said, a little testily. “We need to fix this. At the very least, we have to try and find them.”

“Why? So we have proof that we killed them?”

“We’re the only ones who know where they fell.”

“And you think bringing back their bodies will soften the blow somehow?”

“Maybe!” Tiff cast another glance out at the pool. At some point, Kirby had given up on turning over rocks, and had climbed back up onto the saddle. He was scanning the area in much the same way she had been a few minutes ago. “If nothing else, it’s the right thing to do. “

“Okay, fine. Maybe they’ll go easy on us if we can return their bodies, and we can prove it was an accident.” Tuff scowled. “But you know what wasn’t an accident? All the damage we did to the castle, buying that thing”—he jabbed a finger at the monster—“and assaulting two people!”

“We didn’t assault them.” Tiff whirled to face him. “That was you!”

As they descended into pointless bickering, at no point did it occur to either of them to keep an eye on Kirby.

For his part, he was blissfully unaware of the argument unfolding in the background. Instead, his attention was zeroed in on the hat snagged on the rocks. Kirby leaned down to pat at the nape of Mandúark’s neck, and when it swung its head up, he pointed. It followed his line of sight, and, after a moment of consideration, extended its snout. With a pleased noise, Kirby clambered over its head (earning a disgruntled huff in the process), before he began to scoot along its length.

“—shouldn’t have listened to you in the first place!”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you said that I’m the one you always go to when something bad happens!”

“Well, I’m not making that mistake ever again. Next time I want advice, I’ll just ask Kirby.”

“Let me know how that works out for you! Better yet, why don’t we ask him right now—”

That was when she turned, and realized he was gone.

“Kirby?” Tiff spun around. “Tuff, did you see where he went?”

“No.” Tuff shook his head. “He was sitting on the saddle just a second ago.”

“Kirby!” she called, and after a moment, Tuff joined in. “Kirby, where did you go?”

“Poyo!”

The laughter sounded strangely far away as it echoed over the water. She whipped her head around, trying to pinpoint where it was coming from.

And froze.

“Poy! Poyo!” From the base of the waterfall, Kirby hopped up and down on the rock, Dedede’s hat proudly waving in his hand.

“Kirby!” The image of Dedede and Escargoon vanishing into the ravine flashed through her mind. “It’s not safe out there! You need to come back!”

“The hat’s not worth it!” Tuff yelled.

Thankfully, the fear in their voices sank in. Kirby’s bright expression faltered, as he regarded the hat in his hand, before glancing back at them. Under the gravity of their stares, he deflated. With considerably less enthusiasm than before, he swung his arms, and made to hop his way back to shore.

Only after his foot connected with the rock in his path, and lost traction, did he seem to realize how slippery it was. Kirby had a second to blink in surprise before he disappeared over the side.

It was only when she was chest-high in the water, and reaching for the stirrup, did Tiff realize what she was doing. She barely registered the cold shock seeping into her clothes. “Come on!”

To his credit, Tuff only hesitated for a second. Jaw set, he waded out after her, and allowed himself to be pulled up onto the saddle.

Tiff snatched at the reins and yanked. “Go!”

With a sound like rocks caught between gears, Mandúark began to wade toward the fall. Each step was heavy with the drag of water at its fur, as it kicked its legs against the sediment on the bottom.

Until, suddenly, the bottom wasn’t there anymore.

Neither of them had the chance to react before they were abruptly plunged into the choppy water.

Her head broke the surface long enough to gasp out her brother’s name, before the suction of the current dragged her back under. Blindly, Tiff thrashed. Clouds of silt billowed up around her, accompanied by the dark mass of displaced water bubbling in her wake. Every instinct screamed at her to head for air, to fill in the vacuum where her lungs should have been, but in futility. Up and down had ceased to exist.

There was only the relentless pull of the depths, and the crushing water.

She wondered—as her arms began to tire, and gradually, her kicking lessened—if this had been the last thing Dedede and Escargoon saw, too.

And then, without warning, her momentum reversed. The pressure dragging on her legs all but threw her in the opposite direction.

The water surged, and a moment later, it spat her out.

With a loud “oof” her body slammed into the ground and rolled a short distance. The second Tiff came to a standstill, she pushed herself up on her elbows, and began to hack up water.

“Tuff?” The syllable was partially mangled by her cough. “Kirby?”

She nearly cried in relief when a voice answered back, in between gasps, “Tiff?”

Tiff flinched away at the sudden contact to her face, before she recognized whose hand it was, and she forced herself to relax.

“Poyo?”

“I’m all right.” The hard surface scraped over her knees as she tried to stand. Her breathing was still ragged, but at least her pulse was beginning to slow down a little. “I can’t see either of you. Where—”

“Hang on!” Something rustled in the pitch-black. “I think it should still—yes!”

With an unsettling crack, the glowstick in Tuff’s hand flared to life. It illuminated his grin. “I knew this bag would come in handy.”

It wasn’t a powerful light source by any means, but in the contrast of the dark, it managed to cast a decent enough glow. Tuff stood a few paces off, and other than a scratch above his collarbone, he looked no worse for wear. Kirby (who she now realized had grabbed Mandúark’s reins) had no open cuts or bruises, so that was good.

At least now, Tiff could see where they’d ended up.

But as she slowly took in her surroundings, she realized that she didn’t know where here actually was.

It was a cave, and a rather narrow one at that. At one end sat the pool of water where they’d emerged, its waves lapping along the gravel. Long needles of solid rock jutted from the ceiling, sending beads of water to the floor. The sight startled a reflexive gasp from her—and now that she wasn’t preoccupied with choking, she could taste the damp, stale quality the air held.

“Check it out.” Tuff lifted the glowstick a little higher. “I think those are stal—stalac—” He tipped his head at her questioningly.

“Stalactites,” Tiff answered. “Look at what’s between them.” She pointed at the network of gnarled roots weaving throughout the ceiling. “Those are trees.”

“…Are we under Whispy Woods?” The question came out hushed.

“I think so,” said Tiff. Curiosity was beginning to overwhelm her shock, and she traced a hand along the cavern wall. Time had eroded the stone until it glided smoothly beneath her palm. “The mouth of the cave must be at the bottom of that basin. I bet it’s like a whirlpool, sucking in anything that gets too close, and dumping it here. With all that mist, it’s impossible to see it until—”

“—until it’s too late,” Tuff finished. “You know, usually caves are behind waterfalls, not under them.” He inspected the yawning darkness that swallowed the path onward. “This tunnel must be ancient. I wonder if we’re the first people down here.”

Tiff looked over at the hat still hanging in Kirby’s grip. She sighed. “No, we’re not the first.”

Tuff opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. He settled on, “I guess not,” before glancing back at the pool. “We’re definitely not getting out the way we came in.”

“Our best bet is following the tunnel, and hope it leads us to the surface,” Tiff agreed, a little listlessly. “If we start walking now, we might be able to—” And then it clicked. “Tuff!”

He jumped. “What?”

“The current empties out here, right?”

“Yeah?” he asked warily.

“And when we arrived, we were the only ones in this cave.” She was nearly too overcome with excitement to speak. “If Dedede and Escargoon came in the same way, and their bodies aren’t here—”

“—then that means they must have gotten up and walked!” Tuff’s grip on his rucksack tightened. “They’re alive!”

“I bet they got lost trying to find their way out, and now they’re just wandering down here,” Tiff continued. “That’s why no one could find them, or why they haven’t shown up at the castle yet.”

At that, the optimism slid from his face. “If they couldn’t get out,” he asked, “then how are we going to?”

“With this.” She patted Mandúark’s flank. It let out a snort. “If there are branching tunnels down here, then I bet it can figure out which one is an exit.”

“Well, it beats staying down here and dying.” Tuff dug in his bag, and emerged with a pair of additional glowsticks. He snapped them, and one by one, handed them to Tiff and Kirby (with a warning to the latter not to eat it).

She held out her hand for the reins, which Kirby relinquished without a fuss. “It’s a little waterlogged, but maybe Dedede’s hat can still provide us with a trail.”

“Maybe,” he said, lingering on the word. The chartreuse light gave his skin a pallor like poisonous swamp gas. “They would’ve been down here for days now. You don’t think it’s possible they starved, do you?”

“You can go three weeks without food, I think. And three days without water.” Tiff knitted her brows, trying to recall what little she knew of wilderness survival. “But if they backtracked, then they would’ve had access to the water here. No,” she added, a little more firmly, “I’m sure they’re okay.”

She tried not to consider the alternatives—that they might have been crushed by a cave-in, or succumbed to an injury—and instead gave the reins a tug. One of its tusks nearly grazed her in the enclosed space, as it swung its head around.

“Okay.” Tiff closed her eyes, and exhaled. “Go ahead, Kirby.”

Kirby held the hat up to the monster’s face. Mandúark dipped its head a little closer to inspect the offered garment. Apart from the drip of water percolating overhead, the cavern was silent. The three of them watched as it rapidly dragged in air through its snout.

Its pupils dilated, then narrowed to slits.

It nearly tore the reins free from her hand as it jerked its head up, and pointed with its snout toward the tunnel mouth. Inch-long claws scraped over the stone as it motioned toward the dark with a pronounced restlessness.

“It found the trail.” Tuff’s expression shifted to one of reluctant delight.

Tiff smiled grimly. “Now we just need to find them.” She beckoned, and started to make her way further into the cave, the monster pacing alongside her. “Come on.”

Without a view of the sky, it was hard to get a feel for the passage of time. It didn’t help that nearly everything looked featureless and identical in the pitch-black.

In the interest of doing something productive, she pulled her braid over her shoulder and tried to wring water from it. Since there wasn’t anything she could do about her clothes, she had resigned herself to being wet for the time being.

That didn’t make the chill any less uncomfortable, though, or the prospect of getting sick somehow easier.

“Poyo.” A pink hand holding Dedede’s hat edged into her field of view. To her mild surprise, Kirby offered it to her, and for emphasis stared at her braid.

“Oh, that’s okay, Kirby.” Tiff had reached the extent to which she could wring out her hair, and ruefully flung it back over her shoulder. “I don’t think the hat would help anyway, since it’s still wet.”

“You know,” Tuff said, “we should probably check it for leeches, so he doesn’t get any on him.”

Tiff quirked a brow. “That’s thoughtful of you.”

“I meant Kirby.” She didn’t need to see his face to picture the scornful eye roll. “I don’t care if Dedede gets leeches.”

That made more sense.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him without his hat, come to think of it.” For lack of anything else to do, Tuff began to bend his glowstick. The supple tube didn’t put up much resistance. “I bet his head’s all bald and shiny. What do you think?”

She’d never given it much thought, actually, but if it helped to while away the hours, then by all means. Tiff shrugged. “If I had to guess, he probably looks like a Pengy. I bet there’s a family resemblance.”

Tuff’s laughter rang in the dark. “He probably looks like an eggplant—”

Something screeched overhead. Before either of them had the chance to react, they were engulfed in a cloud of bats.

Arms tented over her head, Tiff threw herself to the ground. Ahead of her, Tuff did the same.

The reins in her hand gave a vicious pull as Mandúark whipped back and forth, its tusks cleaving the swarm. A mousy brown body dropped in front of her, and Tiff scrambled back with a scream.

As suddenly as the flock had appeared, it dispersed. The snap of their leathery wings began to fade as they moved further along the cave.

With delicate, cautious steps, Kirby picked his way out from behind the boulder where he’d taken cover. “Poy…”

“Is everyone all right?” Tiff asked, as she forced herself to stand.

“Yeah.” Tuff brushed the cave debris off of himself. “I mean, I’m only traumatized for life, but I’m fine.”

Tiff curled her lip at the dead bats at her feet, and gingerly stepped over them. “Great.”

Kirby crept a little closer, holding out his glowstick to get a better look.

“Don’t touch it, Kirby. It might have rabies.”

His eyes widened, and he obediently scooted back. Behind him, Mandúark gave an ill-tempered snort. The light from the glowsticks caught its eyes, reflecting it back with an eerie, mirror-like shine.

“I didn’t think anything would be living down here,” Tuff admitted. “Although”—he looked at the black pellets scattered around his feet with renewed consideration—“I’m starting to think the dirt isn’t actually dirt.”

“This must be their roost.” The part of her not thoroughly disgusted regarded the cave ceiling with interest. “I bet they come in here during the day to—hang on a sec.” Tiff faced the direction they’d flown off. “If they have to go outside at night to hunt, then I bet the exit’s not far from here.”

Tuff and Kirby perked up.

“So if we follow them…” Tuff started.

Tiff lightly tugged on the straps. Though clearly irritated, the monster didn’t put up a fight, and allowed itself to be led further into the cave.

They didn’t have to go more than a dozen or so yards before stumbling upon their first branching path. The party stopped, glancing back and forth between the tunnel mouths.

“Which way do we go?” Tuff asked.

It was a question intended for her, which was why it surprised her when the monster answered it. With its snout extended, it approached the bifurcated path, and leaned in toward the tunnel on the right. Its sides heaved as it sniffed the air. After a moment, it stepped back, and peered down the cave on the left, its feet shuffling over the ground in an impatient sort of way.

“I think right is our ticket out of here.” Tuff stood in the tunnel mouth, and inhaled. “The air smells less moldy. And I think there’s a breeze.”

Kirby trotted up next to him.

A breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding left her. “We should mark it with something so we can find it again on our way back.”

Tuff scratched at his chin as he examined the cave floor. Then, with a quiet exclamation, he bent down and scooped up a rock. Glowstick held a little higher, he stepped up to the cave wall, and began to scrape the stone back and forth against its surface.

Tiff and Kirby winced. Mandúark’s ears folded against its head.

He stepped back. Carved into the wall was a shallow x.

The stone clattered to the floor. “Want to keep moving?”

Tiff nodded. “Let’s go.” Together, the three of them veered left, and made their way deeper below the earth.

It wasn’t long before they encountered more side tunnels. Each time, they took their bearings, and Tuff scratched another x to denote the way they’d come.

Mandúark was getting agitated. It had progressed from ambling to a steady trot, and its thick tail repetitively swept over the floor. Now and then it would strain against the tack, a low, guttural noise vibrating in the back of its throat, as the muscles in its neck flexed.

Tiff dug in her heels, and swore under her breath.

“Sis?” Tuff glanced back. “You okay?”

“I am, but it’s not.” She gritted her teeth. “I don’t think it likes being underground.”

“It was fine a little while ago.” Tuff turned to face her, frowning. “Maybe we’re getting close?”

“I really hope so,” she huffed. “It was already opinionated about listening to us earlier. I’m not sure what’ll happen when we—”

As if to prove her point, the monster abruptly spun in the opposite direction, whipping its head around. The reins tore into her palm as they were twisted free from her grasp, and the force behind the motion knocked her to the ground. She could hear the telltale bounce of her glowstick as it rolled somewhere past her.

“Ow.” With a pained grunt, Tiff peeled her cheek off the floor. Blinking repeatedly did little to stop her vision from swimming, and she winced. “I’m okay. I think.”

The glowstick had managed to roll an impressive distance away. The space in front of her was more like the idea of a floor than anything she could physically discern in the wan light. Tiff prepared to call out again, when the vague silhouette of a hand moved into view, and offered itself to her.

“Oh.” Tiff let out a puff of air, and reached out to accept it. Her legs shrieked in protest as she allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. “Thanks, Tuff—”

That was when she lifted her head, and found herself face-to-face with a pair of yellow eyes.

Her blood ran cold.

“Tiff!”

At the sound of her name, she glanced over her shoulder, and was greeted to the sight of Tuff and Kirby backed against a wall, Blade’s weapon leveled at them. Sword, meanwhile, had seized the monster’s reins, and was attempting to subdue it with an outstretched hand.

“Hang on!” She tried to wrench herself out of his grasp.

Meta Knight didn’t budge.

“Let—me—go!” Tiff wrapped her free hand around her wrist, her teeth bared, and gave another desperate tug. It was like having her limb encased in cement; she might as well not have bothered. It occurred to her, as she struggled, that if Kirby couldn’t even inhale Meta Knight, then he wasn’t about to be knocked off his feet by a little girl.

But maybe she didn’t need to overpower him; maybe she just needed to startle him into letting go—

The thought was still half-formed by the time Tiff swung back her arm, and balled the hand into a fist.

Meta Knight didn’t flinch in anticipation. Rather, his eyes tracked her movements, without any particular sense of urgency. A lifetime forged in combat meant he was more than capable of reacting before she ever landed the blow, but he gave no indication of stopping her. Rather, the trace of some unknown emotion settled in his gaze. Resignation, perhaps?

It was then that she realized he was waiting to see what she would do, and all at once, the fight drained out of her. For the first time in days, she was hit by the ugly impulse to cry.

Shaking, Tiff let her arm drop.

Meta Knight studied her for another heartbeat. Then, he reached for his side, and unsheathed Galaxia from its scabbard. Electricity crackled from the hilt as it reformed itself into a hardened edge.

Her pulse raced in her ears.

He’s going to execute us.

The surety of that understanding was accompanied by an even bleaker one: there was nothing she could do to stop it. If he wanted them dead, it was going to happen.

She couldn't bring herself to look away.

Meta Knight raised the sword a little higher—and the attack never came. It took her disoriented thoughts longer than she would have liked to make sense of the scene before her. But when they did, Tiff couldn’t help but notice the way he held Galaxia bore a striking resemblance to a torch.

The blade glowed.

Of course the blade forged by a bunch of fire-worshippers glowed.

“The monster is secured, sir.” In the silence that preceded it, Sword’s voice was unnaturally loud.

“Good.” His reply was curt. “Keep your attention on it.”

His penetrating stare shifted to her, and Tiff failed not to shrink back. The grip on her wrist hadn’t let up. She expected—well, she wasn’t sure what she expected, exactly. A demand for answers. Anger, maybe.

It shocked her, then, when neither of those things immediately came, and Meta Knight turned over her hand. Quietly, he told her, “You’re bleeding.”

Oh.

Tiff looked down. Where the friction of the reins had dug into her palm, there was now a dark slash. Only in the lull of adrenaline did she finally notice the sting.

It’s not that bad was what she wanted to say.

What came out instead was, “You’re hurting me.”

He dropped her hand like a hot coal.

Either Tuff had the best or the worst timing in the universe, because he chose that moment to speak up: “How did you guys get down here?”

“The same way you did,” Blade answered. Now that he said it, it was hard to ignore the wet sheen on their armor.

“And before you ask,” Sword added, “we followed your trail. You tore up half the undergrowth between here and the castle. It wasn’t exactly subtle.”

Meta Knight’s expression was difficult to read—it always had been—but Tiff got the impression he was attempting to compose himself. “Perhaps,” he said, “now that we’ve answered your questions, you would be willing to answer a few of ours.” Though by the sound of it, it wasn’t a request.

She swallowed. “And those would be…?”

“Are His Majesty and Escargoon dead?”

“We—” Tiff didn’t quite meet his eyes. “We don’t know.”

“We thought they were, at first.” Tuff looked like he was weighing his words against the sword still pointed at him, and trying to decide whether saying less or saying more was the safer bet. More, apparently, won out. “It was only after we discovered this place that we thought they might still be alive.”

Meta Knight redirected his focus to him. “Why bother looking for their bodies if you killed them?”

“It was an accident!” Tiff blurted out. “We weren’t trying to hurt them! They fell in after they spotted us, and when we couldn’t find them—”

“You presumed them dead.” He spoke with a steel that made his sword dull by comparison. “I wonder if that would have remained the case, had you not been caught.”

They flinched.

“I’m certain your decision to purchase a monster—and endanger Kirby in the process—wasn’t the result of misguided altruism.” As Meta Knight spoke, he glanced over at the monster in question. Its behavior was less erratic than before, if only because it wasn’t quite sure what to make of the newcomers. At the sudden attention, however, it met his gaze, and let out a long drag of air through its nose.

Sword’s hand hovered uncertainly over his weapon. “Do you recognize this one, sir…?”

“I do.” Meta Knight sighed. “That won’t be necessary, Sword. Blade, the same goes for you.”

Tuff’s legs nearly buckled under him when Blade sheathed his weapon. He leaned against Kirby for support.

“I encountered this creature years ago, when I was stranded on a planet during the war.” Mandúark’s eyes followed him as Meta Knight ventured a few steps closer. Its nostrils flared. “Nightmare sent it to track my squad. For three weeks it pursued us as we tried to make our way to the rendezvous point. By the time we reunited with the rest of our forces, half of my team was injured.”

They sure knew how to pick them.

“I can attest firsthand to how dangerous it is.” His cape fanned out behind him as he turned around, and this time, there was no mistaking the edge to his words. “Which is why I find it hard to believe you willingly bought this creature.”

Shame and helpless anger burned in her throat. “We didn’t know,” Tiff mumbled, and even to her own ears, it sounded pathetic.

“You would have, had you come to me first,” Meta Knight said. He was just as unimpressed by her answer. “It worries me, that you believed you killed someone, and didn’t say anything.”

“We thought we killed Dedede! The guy that you work for!” Tuff shot back. It likely wasn’t a coincidence that he had positioned himself slightly behind Kirby. She doubted he would have had the courage to talk back, otherwise. “What would you have done if we’d actually told you? Help us hide the bodies?”

He closed his eyes, and his visor went unsettlingly blank. When he opened them again, he sounded tired. “Any solution would have been preferrable to the alternative,” came the cryptic response.

Her fingers flexed, and Tiff hissed softly through her teeth as she snatched her wrist. “You probably don’t believe us,” she said, her eyes downcast, “but we’re sorry.”

Meta Knight didn’t miss her reaction, and his eyes darted to her hand. “I believe you mean it,” he said. “Though I’m not sure which part it is that you regret: hurting multiple people, or lying about it to avoid the consequences.”

Somehow, the disappointment was worse than any strike he could have mustered against them. Tiff hung her head.

The urge to protest, to say something—we screwed up; we didn’t mean to hurt anyone; we were scared—died on her lips. They would have rung trite and insincere, performative in the face of punishment. It hadn’t escaped her attention that Blade was leaning into one hip, in order to better distribute his weight between his legs. Guilt lodged itself in the space between her ribs; it hurt to breathe.

Tiff exhaled. “At least let us help fix this,” she pleaded. “You’re right; this is our fault. I know it doesn’t—we can’t change what we did. But if we could just—”

“No.” The rebuke, strangely, held no ire. “Even without the monster being here, these caves are dangerous. I won’t risk your safety.” He shifted. “The king and Escargoon may not…take kindly to your presence. I think it would be wise if you didn’t come.”

Sword straightened as Meta Knight approached. “What will you do, sir?” he asked.

“Rescue them, if I can.” He held out a hand for the reins. “Escort Tiff, Tuff, and Kirby back to the surface. Follow the marks on the wall to retrace your steps.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Tuff stare at the floor a little sheepishly.

Well. That explained how they managed to find them.

“Please see to it that she receives medical attention. I’ll return as soon as I’m able.”

Sword gave a nod, while Blade paused. “And if neither of them survived…?” he prompted.

“I’ll try to bring back whatever’s intact. Don’t wait for my return.” Meta Knight sighed. “The children don’t need to see this.”

Sword reached out to pass over the reins, and that was when Mandúark struck.

Its tusks cleaved the space where their heads had been a second before. Stamping, the monster pivoted, and charged deeper into the cave, the thunder of its steps deafening in its wake. Meta Knight rose from his crouch and went after. Galaxia’s light faded with pursuit.

“Sir—”

“What are you—”

“It’s following their trail!” His voice echoed along the tunnel. “Take the children and go!”

That was the moment Kirby decided that he was bored with being a spectator. He narrowed his eyes, and before any of them could react, he bolted after Meta Knight.

Neither of them hesitated. Ignoring Sword’s cry of “Hey!” Tiff and Tuff followed him.

Walking through the tunnels had been one thing. Running through the tunnels—with only the dim light of Tuff’s glowstick, and the claustrophobic walls hemming them in—was another entirely. Tiff nearly tripped when the path curved, and they were forced to make a sharp turn.

Somewhere close by, they heard a scream.

There was a light ahead. Putting on a final burst of speed, they rounded the bend.

Only to immediately backpedal when a rock shattered into the wall inches from their faces.

“You want some more, you walking shag carpet?” Tiff gaped as Dedede swung his hammer like a croquet mallet, and another rock went flying. A single sweep of Mandúark’s tusks deflected it, and scattered it sideways. It continued to advance. “See what happens!”

With a bellow that shook the cavern, it barreled forward. Dedede’s bravado evaporated on the spot, and he jumped out of the way. The monster rammed into the wall, dislodging loose soil and rocks from the ceiling. The cloud of debris fell harmlessly over its back, and it shook out its fur.

When it spun around, Galaxia’s edge collided with its tusks. Meta Knight’s arms shook with the effort to push back against the oncoming charge.

Just beyond their standoff, she could see Kirby trying to help Escargoon to his feet. He looked disoriented, but unharmed.

“I don’t understand.” Tuff stiffened. “It’s supposed to be tracking them, not fighting them.”

Now, I should warn you that it pursues with the intention —

A little too late, Tiff wondered if they shouldn’t have read the instruction manual.

“With the intention to kill,” she said to herself. Tuff shot her a questioning look, but she didn’t elaborate.

The tip of its elongated jaws parted, and a barbed tongue snaked out. Meta Knight didn’t have the opportunity to react before it lashed forward, and flung him across the cave.

“Sir Meta Knight!”

The sound of clattering armor announced Sword’s and Blade’s arrival. They went to rush forward, only to halt when Meta Knight threw out a hand.

“Don’t come any closer!” He pulled himself to his feet. “There’s not enough room to fight! Protect the—”

He didn’t have the opportunity to finish before he was forced to roll out of the way. The boulder behind him was split down the middle.

“Poyo!” Kirby darted forward, and flung himself at its head. He managed to dodge the claws that passed a breadth beneath him, and in the same motion, grab onto its reins.

Mandúark roared. Violently, it threw its head to the side, trying to shake him off. Tiff could hear Kirby’s high-pitched shouting over the taut snap of the reins. Meta Knight’s attempt to get closer was thwarted when he had to duck, as Kirby sailed overhead.

In the same motion that forced Meta Knight to retreat, its tail swept across the floor, and slammed Dedede into the wall. He thudded to the ground with a groan.

“Sire!” Escargoon took a step toward him. “Hold on, I’m coming—!”

The impact jarred a stalactite loose. With a crack, it plummeted toward him.

By the time Escargoon looked up, Tiff shoved into him, and they rolled out of its trajectory. As soon as they came to a standstill, he pushed her off.

“Are you out of your mind?” he spat. “You could have killed me!”

“You’re welcome,” she muttered.

Dedede scrambled past them without so much as a backward glance. “Move it or lose it!”

Escargoon didn’t need to be told twice. Especially not after Kirby was sent flying, and he bounced off the wall above them. With a yelp, he booked it after his boss.

Tiff and Kirby went to follow, only to jerk back when the ground in front of them was slashed down its center.

The barbed tongue retracted back into its jaws, its breath escaping in hot, shallow puffs of air. Mandúark raked its claws over the ground. She pulled Kirby close to her side—and in doing so, noticed the hat still in his hand, which he somehow hadn’t yet dropped.

It was tracking Dedede. Not them.

That realization came at the exact moment Mandúark lowered its head, and charged. Tiff braced for the impact.

The attack veered sideways as Meta Knight slammed into its flank. Tiff and Kirby jumped back, narrowly avoiding the tusks that plunged into the wall beside them. Mandúark bellowed, and the noise nearly rattled the teeth out of her skull. It tried to rear back, bacing its front legs against the cavern wall, straining with the exertion of dislodging itself. Its claws scrabbled uselessly against the rock. Cracks began to spiderweb across its surface.

Another chunk of ceiling collapsed.

An idea occurred to her. “Sir Meta Knight!” she yelled, and pointed at the roof of the cave.

His eyes flicked upward, and he nodded. Tucking Kirby under her arm, Tiff dashed between its legs, and sprinted the way they’d come.

She didn’t look back, but she heard the discharge of the sword beam as Meta Knight lobbed it into the ceiling. More rocks fell as the cavern shook, and this time, the monster screamed.

“Move!” Meta Knight’s order jolted the group into action. Tuff stumbled from the tremors as he ran, and Dedede all but shoved Escargoon out of his way. The cave gave a final, lurching shudder, and the crescendo of falling rocks stopped.

The tunnel behind them was sealed. It was hard to pick out amidst the dust cloud, but the end of the snout poked out from underneath a boulder, its tongue spooling from it like a fleshy measuring tape. A moment later, and it began to sublimate into black particles. In a matter of seconds, it disintegrated.

“Your Majesty.” After having gone days without hearing it, the sound of Meta Knight addressing Dedede startled her. He halted at a respectful distance, and lowered his head a fraction. “Are you unharmed?”

It was the first time Tiff actually got to properly look at him, and her first unhelpful thought (in a voice that suspiciously resembled Tuff’s) was that he looked rather lopsided without his hat. Beyond that, though, he seemed strangely fine. The hem of his coat was ripped and discolored in a few spots, but there wasn’t any sign of—well, anything wrong with him. Her imagination might have exaggerated her expectations some, but she’d expected him to look at least a little gaunt.

Escargoon’s condition appeared more or less the same. The backpack she vaguely recalled him having on his person had a torn seam (and was substantially lighter now), but was otherwise intact.

Dedede had braced a hand against Escargoon’s shell as he stooped to catch his breath. At the question, however, he straightened.

“About as well as can be expected,” he said. “No thanks to you.”

The kids both jumped when he directed the latter half of his statement at them.

“As if trying to kill us once wasn’t enough,” Escargoon said, “you had to go and buy a monster to finish the job.”

After the ordeal of the last four days, her patience had been fraying.

The last thread holding it together snapped.

Tiff clenched her fists (only to immediately regret it when her hand stung). She settled on glaring instead. “We bought it so we could find you!”

Escargoon sniffed. “A likely story.”

“And you used our money to do it, to add insult to injury,” Dedede harrumphed.

“We didn’t buy the monster,” Tuff retorted, “we stole it.”

That managed to wipe the outrage from Dedede’s face, and he blinked. “You did?” He sounded like he was genuinely impressed, and at the same time was vehemently trying to stamp it out. “How the hell did you manage to pull a fast one on him? I might have to take notes.”

“Don’t bother.” Tuff blew out a sigh. “You’ll probably get to hear all about it the next time you go to place an order. By the way, you owe him money.”

Dedede let out a strangled noise. “Do you have any idea how long it took to pay him back?” He dragged his hands down his face, before—seemingly for the first time—registering Kirby’s presence. “And that’s mine! Give me that.” He snatched the hat out of his hand, and jammed it onto his head. It didn’t appear to bother Dedede that it was thoroughly soaked and smelled like a wet dog.

“How did you manage to survive down here for so long?” It was impossible to tell whether Meta Knight was actually curious, or trying to divert their argument.

Either way, it did the trick, if only temporarily. Escargoon shot the pair a nasty parting look before he answered: “I had some provisions on me. Most of them survived the fall. When we couldn’t find our way out, we decided that staying put was our best bet. So we rationed them.”

“Bad enough that we couldn’t see, let alone having to skimp on meals,” said Dedede. “Another day or two and I might’ve resorted to eating raw snail.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Who said I was joking?”

Escargoon took a pointed step back. He cleared his throat. “Sure, it was dark, and sure, we were a little peckish. And maybe we thought we were going to die. But what matters now is that we’re safe.” He paused, and then squinted at his rescuers. “You did find a way out of here, right?”

Meta Knight nodded.

“Good.” Dedede narrowed his eyes at her. “Because the second we’re out of here, I’m punting you into the river.”

Tiff met his glare with one of her own. “Just try it, you ungrateful bast—”

“Enough.”

Obediently, she bit her tongue, as Meta Knight stepped between them. There was a warning in his gaze as it lingered on her, before he redirected it to the king. “Perhaps this is a conversation best continued elsewhere.” He lowered his head. “Please allow us to escort you both to the surface.”

This seemed to mollify Dedede. It also served to remind him of their predicament, and he gave his surroundings a look of disdain, coupled with something that resembled unease. He adjusted his hat. “Thought you’d never ask,” he said. “Now get us outta here.”

Awash in golden light, the castle loomed ominously from the precipice.

Tiff had spent the last few days juggling mixed feelings regarding her home: apprehension, refuge, shame. Looking at it now, as the setting sun cast long shadows from the spires, she could add a new one to the list: dread.

Not for the first time, she glanced a few paces ahead at Dedede and Escargoon. The pair had been uncharacteristically quiet the entire journey back, and save for the occasional backward look at their entourage, hadn’t made a fuss. (Guiltily, she tried not to dwell on the possibility that they were both too busy processing their trauma to get into an argument.)

A small part of her was equal parts relieved, equal parts wishing they would get it over with and say something already. Words were constructive; the only thing silence did was let her brain fill in the gap with what-ifs, each more viscerally agonizing than the last.

Beside her, Tuff plodded along, his shoulders hunched. He stared at the ground through his curtain of bangs, unresponsive to even Kirby’s well-meaning prods or concerned babble.

It didn’t help that Tiff could all but feel three sets of eyes boring into the back of her skull. Sooner or later, when the reckoning came, she wondered where it would fall.

And then Dedede came to an abrupt stop, and she realized their time was up.

“There it is,” he said, hands on his hips. “Home, sweet home.” With slow, rehearsed movements, Dedede turned on the spot, and leered. “Take a good, long look, because this is the last time you’ll be seeing something besides the inside of a dungeon cell.”

The kids stiffened. Instinctively, Kirby scooted a little closer between them.

“We told you already,” said Tuff through clenched teeth, “it was an accident.”

“An accident that would have killed us if we hadn’t been rescued in time,” Escargoon reminded them. “After the ordeal you brats put us through, I think imprisonment for life is rather generous. Be grateful it’s not a guillotine.”

Some of her fire resurfaced, and Tiff bristled. “And you think you’ll get away with it once everyone hears what actually happened?”

“That’s the funny thing about the truth.” Dedede jerked up his chin. “Depending on who you ask, it changes.”

She’d expected something like this, but seeing the idea manifest before them was another thing entirely. Her pulse jumped in her throat. The urge to step back was waylaid by the presence of Sword, Blade, and Meta Knight behind them, effectively cutting off their escape route.

“And you’re going to have an awfully hard time peddling that racket from behind bars,” Escargoon added cheerfully. “Good luck breaking out, by the way. We had the dungeons remodeled last week.

From somewhere on his person, Dedede withdrew his hammer, and none too subtly leaned against the handle. “Let’s not make this any harder than it needs to be, eh? Off you go.”

Not knowing what else to do, she turned to her brother, and found her own helplessness reflected back at her.

For all of their bluster, she knew Dedede and Escargoon weren’t in any condition to fight. The real threat was the one at their backsides, armed, and more than capable of subduing them. (They’d already experienced that once today. A repeat performance was the last thing she wanted.) And if they resisted…

Kirby tilted his head back at them, his mouth hanging open in an inquisitive o.

If it was a toss-up between their own safety and throwing him in the crossfire, then it wasn’t a choice.

Evidently, Tuff had reached the same conclusion. His shoulders shook as he let out a low, shuddering breath, and stared fixedly ahead. Tiff reached over and rested a hand on Kirby’s head, hoping the gesture conveyed everything she wanted to say, but couldn’t. They’d dealt with worse; they’d figure this one out, too.

She straightened, and went to move in the direction of the castle. They didn’t even make it a step before Meta Knight brushed past them, and knelt before Dedede.

The vindictive triumph melted from Dedede’s face. “What are you doing?” he demanded. “Arrest them.”

Meta Knight lifted his gaze, ever so slightly. “If you’re to assign fault to anyone, Your Majesty,” he said, “blame me. They were acting on my orders.”

Tuff gaped. Discreetly, Tiff stepped on his foot.

Meta Knight didn’t so much as blink when Dedede loomed over him. Suspicion darkened his features, like the pall of an encroaching storm. “Explain,” he growled.

“The night of your disappearance, I was trying to find you regarding an urgent matter. During my search, I crossed paths with the children, and asked them to look for you beyond the castle. They agreed to assist me.” If she hadn’t known any better, she would have believed the lie with how easily he recited it. “My subordinates and I have been coordinating with the captain of your guard in order to find you. Procuring a monster was necessary for discerning your whereabouts.”

“Is that right?” Dedede asked, folding his arms over his chest. “Then what was so important that it couldn’t wait until morning?”

Smoothly, Meta Knight said, “The issue’s been taken care of.” He rose from his kneel, and fixed the king with cool yellow eyes. In the evening light, they were chips of ice. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but what were you doing out so late, in the middle of Whispy Woods?”

Dedede recoiled, and beside him, Escargoon paled.

And as Tiff watched the stalemate unfold, she could see the internal debate waring on their faces.

Calling Meta Knight’s bluff would mean having to explain what they were doing. Even if Tiff and Tuff hadn’t been close enough to overhear them, it didn’t take a lot of effort to put two and two together. For all that the old Star Warrior had pledged fealty to the king, he had demonstrated—time and time again—all of the many ways he liberally interpreted “serving them.” The mental image of an armored truck being kicked down the canyon briefly crossed her mind.

Dedede was a lot of things—narcissistic, self-aggrandizing, impulsive—but he wasn’t stupid. That went double for Escargoon. They knew, if they let it slip what they’d been up to, it wouldn’t end well.

The silence carried on. Maybe Tiff imagined it, but she thought she saw Meta Knight’s sword hand twitch.

“Hiking,” Dedede said, when he’d clearly made up his mind. It wasn’t worth it. “A little fresh air every now and then does wonders for your health. Isn’t that right?” he added, with a very pointed side glance at Escargoon.

Escargoon nodded, a little emphatically. “Nothing quite like a brisk morning stroll.”

“If you planned on leaving the castle for several hours,” asked Meta Knight, with overt politeness, “then why didn’t you inform anyone?”

Dedede puffed out his chest. “Kingly prerogative. I don’t have to inform people. I come and go as I please.”

Taking that as his cue, he scooped up his hammer, hitched it over a shoulder, and strode toward the drawbridge. With a delayed sort of realization, Escargoon jolted after him. “Your Majesty, wait!”

There was a faint commotion beyond the castle walls. Loudest amidst the fanfare was a voice that resembled Waddle Doo’s, and if she wasn’t mistaken, it sounded like he was on the verge of tears.

“I guess that’s that,” Tuff said, when the silence got to be unbearable. Much like her, he very carefully avoided looking at Meta Knight.

Tiff wasn’t prone to cowardice, but the blatant lie on their behalf left her feeling rather wrong-footed, and unsure whether to thank him, or make a break for it. Out of her periphery, she watched Tuff begin to inch past Meta Knight—testing whether they were off the hook. Not about to be left behind, she followed his lead.

“At least it’s finally behind us,” she added, with a confidence that she certainly didn’t feel. They’d managed to place a foot between him and themselves. He still hadn’t reacted. “We should probably head back. Kirby, do you want to stay for dinner?”

The long-awaited promise of food dispelled any of his lingering worry. Kirby waved his arms. “Poyo!”

“Great!” Tuff’s grin was a little forced. “Let’s go!”

The two of them turned to leave—

—and flinched when a pair of hands landed on their shoulders.

“Not so fast.” It was a thousand times worse with how close he was. The even tone was belied somewhat by his grip. “We need to have a little talk.”

“…Can this talk not involve our parents?” Tuff asked.

“For their sake, not yours,” Meta Knight said. The pressure on their shoulders remained firm as he nudged them in the direction of the castle gate. “March.”

Before they could move, Kirby darted in front of them. He pointed at himself. “Poyo?”

“You’re not in trouble,” Meta Knight told him. “You’re free to go.”

Kirby tilted his head as he looked between his friends. He appeared to be visibly weighing his options (and, judging by the low growl in his stomach, deciding which one had the higher likelihood of getting something to eat). He hesitated on a decision for a second longer—and then, to Tiff’s amazement, he gave them a small wave before u-turning back down the road.

Watching him go, she couldn’t exactly blame him. Not after everything they’d dragged him through. She resolved to make it up to Kirby the next time they saw him.

…Whenever “next time” was, at any rate. Meta Knight’s hands on their shoulders didn’t leave much room for optimism that this would be a short and painless talk.

Meta Knight gave a sharp nod. On a tacit signal, Sword and Blade moved ahead across the bridge, and dispersed. Tiff and Tuff were unresisting as he followed a moment later, steering them through the courtyard.

All things considered, Tiff thought, as they were herded inside, it could have been worse.

Author's Note:

And then Meta Knight proceeded to give them the world’s worst Disappointed Parent Talk.

Afterward, their punishment was to clean up the library. Sword and Blade got to supervise.

[ceescedasticity]

[Part 9: Gelion and Sirion]

Gelion

Of Mount Rerir, Thargelion, Estolad, Ossiriand, and Taur-im-Duinath

Likes: Noldor, Northern Sindar, Green-elves, Avari, Dwarves, courage

Dislikes: Dragons, poison, abandonment

Who are you most hoping to meet in Aman? "It would be good to see Denethor again… and Melian was long my neighbor under the stars… But mainly: Maedhros, Caranthir, Amrod, Amras, Celegorm, and Curufin. I'm aware that they have committed a number of serious offenses and chained themselves with a dangerous oath. That may have an impact on whether others will cooperate in my meeting them, but it has no impact on my hope to meet them. I could look after them on an island. In the meantime someone should speak well of them to Lady Nerdanel."

What are you looking for in your new location? "Ideally? Start inland, nice long course to accommodate tributaries, then out a pass or gap to the coast — any coast would be fine. Broad enough to have an island for safekeeping. However, there is some discussion about how much regrading is acceptable, and 'the necessary inviolability of the Pelóri', and it's quite possible we're going to end up feeding into an inland sea of some sort. Negotiations are ongoing."

Would you like to say anything about the fána you chose? "I would like people to keep in mind who I am hoping to meet here. Again — I could handle them. …Or at least set up a system to alert people if they're being irrational."

What else would you like people to know about you? "The Khazad called me Gabilan, past Ascar and the Falls. I have also been called Gevolon. I'd offer to let Little Gelion be just Gelion and I would take Gevelon, but people might get confused. —I should also say that I do not dislike the Iathrim. I knew many of them well under the stars. It is just that after the Girdle went up they never did me or mine any kindnesses or courtesies — except those Green-elves willing to go live as guests, and them I hardly saw again. So I do not dislike them, but I was not their priority and they are not mine."

Sirion

Of Eithel Sirion, Ard-Galen, the Pass of Sirion, Dimbar, Brethil, Doriath, Nargothrond, Aelin-Uial, the Andram, Nan-Tathren, and Arvernien

Likes: Elves, Men, the Sea, Beleriand, tributaries

Dislikes: Sauron, Melkor, miasma, werewolves

Who are you most hoping to meet in Aman? "Who don't I want to see might be an easier question… Fingolfin and Lalwen and Fingon — and their people, I owe the engineers of Barad Eithel a great debt. Melian and Elu. Finrod, both because he was a friend to me and because I had to watch him die. Olu and Nendili and all the others who left to go west so long ago. Idril, Eärendil and Elwing. Turgon — we were barely acquainted but I carried Ulmo's aid to him for many years. Beleg and Mablung. Just — so many Noldor, Mithrim and Iathrim and Falathrim. Gelion's boys, despite everything. I knew so many people. —I understand not all of them are returned to life. If they haven't before I'm ready to set aside this fána, I'll go visit them in the Halls of Waiting."

…You can do that? "I spent six hundred years trying to protect the Children from Melkor while under relatively stringent constrictions of the role I took, with little help from any Vala save Lord Ulmo, and he relied on me to deliver his help. I did their job and I was gutted for it. The least they can do is let me in to see the people who actually did their best to help me."

What are you looking for in your new location? "I thought it might be fun to go out under the Pelóri — new Gates! And it's no more a defense breach than a pass, I'd be constantly aware of it, and a dedicated spider could climb the Pelóri anyway. They stick to things. However, certain individuals are not yet convinced that this or any similar modifications are acceptable. The inland sea idea is considered even less acceptable, unsurprisingly given that without significant topographical adjustment it would swallow half the Gardens and Valmar would become an island. —Poor Taeglin will probably have a limited number of options with no ravines whatsoever."

Are you at all concerned the Valar may not agree to whatever disruptions are necessary? "They raised an island for the Edain for their service. If they can't house us comfortably here they can raise us a continent. Or else we can sit ourselves on the slopes of Taniquetil and weep until all the roads are out."

… "My apologies — you Vanyar live around here too, I don't mean to threaten to wash you away. We're all very appreciative of your efforts in the War of Wrath. My emotions are still a little wrought. We'd sit ourselves in the Máhanaxar and weep until we made a lake of it."

Would you like to say anything about the fána you chose? "It was more of an effort than I liked to get this much color, and I couldn't get rid of that last streak of gray. I am recovered from everything, mostly — but I'm marked by it. Mindeb and Aros suggested adding scars to drive the point home, but that seemed… tacky?"

What else would you like people to know about you? "Despite what some of the tributaries seem to think, I am fully recovered, mostly. My strength is completely back, thanks to Lord Ulmo; it's just that the memories linger and I feel the strain. Occasionally."

If you don't mind my asking, the River Lithir mentioned something about Sauron and Eönwë? "I'm sure they did. I'll have words with Eönwë about Sauron in due time. As for fighting, Lithir may want to speak to Rivil. Rivil and I both had a very intimate view of every single battle fought in the Fen of Serech, so while neither of us had any practice we both know a great deal about how to fight in a fána."

[Bonus: Alternative designs for Gelion and Sirion — they may have tried some of these out…]

[I went through a lot of versions of Sirion…]

(I may or may not finish up with a "draft chart of river distribution", but that requires making a bunch calls about Aman's unknown geography, so maybe not.)

Meet the Rivers of Beleriand!

After some recuperation time following their ordeals, they've put on fána and come to Aman to meet old friends and seek new homes in the Blessed Realm! They're waiting on some decisions of the Valar at Mahanaxar, but after someone accidentally washed out a road after a slap-fight with Eönwë on the Sauron subject in the meantime they are staying at the Palace of Ingwë in Valmar! Why Ingwë agreed with the Valar that the flooding would be less of an issue there is a fascinating question Queen Ilwen would love an answer to.

Meet the Rivers! (Interviewer: Ingwion Ingsuilo Ingwion, Fourth Prince of the Vanyar)

[Part One: Adurant, Esgalduin, Nenning]

Adurant

Of the Seven Rivers of Ossiriand and Dor Firn-i-Guinar

Tributary of great Gelion

Likes: Trees, pereldar, music

Dislikes: Orcs, getting pulled into the Sea when the subcontinent collapses even though your spring in the mountains is actually still there

Who are you most hoping to meet in Aman? "Dior! And Denethor — of the Nandor — I'd like to see him again, but Dior was my baby. —The other Ingwion said he'd sent for him. I hope he gets here soon."

What are you looking for in your new location? "I'm not sure! Somewhere with Dior or my Laegrim would be nice, but! I think I am uniquely qualified to be somewhere around Mandos!"

Would you like to say anything about the fána you chose? "It's reminiscent of a few of my favorite people, but I'm not making a statement. But I do think I'm doing better than average at not dripping on your nice carpets!"

What else would you like people to know about you? "Um, I'm not sure how much else there is to say about me! I was pretty lucky, all told — well, all of us in Ossiriand were lucky, and I was luckiest. My people got a lot of raids later on but it didn't touch me. I really could have stayed in Middle-earth, but… obviously things didn't turn out that way."

Esgalduin

Of Doriath, born of the Shadowy Spring

Tributary of great Sirion

Likes: Beeches, Holly, Grey-elves, Melian

Dislikes: Naugrim, Kinslayers, Men Invaders, dragons, spiders

Who are you most hoping to meet in Aman? "Melian most of all. We were close friends, I've missed her a lot. Also Elu, young Dior and Nimloth — Elmo and Galadhon — I have many, many people here. But I meant to go see Melian in Lórien immediately, except there were reportedly concerns about the roads."

What are you looking for in your new location? "I would like to dwell with my Grey-Elves — ideally with Elu and Melian as their King and Queen. If Melian needs me more than the Grey-Elves and means to stay in Lórien that is also an option, but I would hope she can anticipate Elu's return."

Would you like to say anything about the fána you chose? "It's modeled on Melian's fána, yes, except for the hair."

What else would you like people to know about you? "I have a tributary you won't hear much about — they fall from the mountains directly into Nan Dungortheb, and it… went badly for them, from quite early on. Their proper name is Nenbrass, though I'm afraid my people often said Esgalfuin. They have… some resentments. I'm hoping people will be understanding."

Nenning

Of Eglarest in the Falas

Likes: the Sea, Falathrim, ships, Noldor

Dislikes: Orcs, erosion, poison

Who are you most hoping to meet in Aman? "Many of my people are here, of course. And Brithon and I are both very curious about these Western Lindar. Though if I meet any individuals who objected to sending aid we will have words."

What are you looking for in your new location? "East of the Pelóri and directly into the Sea, definitely, though that may end up with less length than I'd prefer. I understand my people here have a settlement of their own, and either Brithon or I will pass by there. The other of us might go by this Swanhaven."

Would you like to say anything about the fána you chose? "I don't think there's much to say."

What else would you like people to know about you? "We were overrun and used as roads to attack our people. It was… distressing. But after we had nothing left to protect, when things continued to worsen — both of us, eventually, consigned ourselves to the Sea, and after that it was over. That wasn't a route available to to tributaries, and Sirion… wouldn't. —Also I apologize for the water. It should be less brackish now."

[suddencolds]

Untrustworthy | Genshin Impact

This is a 3k word commission for anon! (I admittedly wrote over the commissioned word count).

Thank you so much for commissioning me and for your kind message 😭This fic was surprisingly very challenging to write, so I’m sorry for the wait; I hope you enjoy! 

Requested prompt: 

I want Diluc completely miserable with a cold. As much mess as you're ok with. Still trying to function. Until Kaeya can't stand watching anymore and inserts himself as caregiver.

—

It’s subtle at first. Diluc turns away from making a drink to cough tightly into an elbow. Diluc’s gaze pulls uneven as he ducks forward with a barely stifled sneeze into a handkerchief he’s been keeping in his coat pocket. Diluc—when he thinks no one is watching—leans a bit too heavily against the countertop, bracing himself with one arm, and lifts the other hand to massage his temples. as if he’s attempting to drive away a headache that he’s had all afternoon.

It would be unnoticeable, except Kaeya pays more attention than people give him credit for. It would be unnoticeable, except Kaeya is aware that a cold has been making its rounds through the Knights, many of which frequent the tavern—one severe enough to prompt Jean to actually take a sick day, for once, one that seems especially severe this winter and—judging by the absences in his ranks this last week—difficult to avoid.

Diluc doesn’t fall ill often, Kaeya knows. Even now he barely looks unwell, save for the faint flush of his cheeks, the exhaustion disrupting his usually-perfect posture, the sneezes that he keeps stifling into almost-silence.

Either he’s at the start of his cold—before it’s had a chance to get really bad—or he’s putting in an inordinate amount of effort to hide it.

Kaeya suspects it might be both.

“Master Diluc,” he says, when Diluc conveniently stops by one of the tables next to him with drinks. “When does your shift end?”

Diluc’s shoulders stiffen, though he doesn’t turn around to address Kaeya properly. “Three hours from now.” he says, frowning. “if you intend to involve me in one of your late-night arrangements…”

“Oh? Not this time,“ Kaeya says. He lifts his wine to take a sip. “Even if I were, I think perhaps I would have reconsidered.”

“And why is that?”

Diluc says it flatly—unaffectedly—but he only has the luxury of keeping up that act for a few seconds before he’s ducking into his shoulder with a perfectly silenced stifle. It’s such a seamless performance, neatly contained and expertly quiet—really, Kaeya deems himself unworthy.

“Bless you,” he says, though Diluc scoffs, swipes the empty glasses from the table he’s serving, and starts off toward his usual spot behind the counter. “I do hope you are not falling ill, master Diluc.”

Diluc sets the glasses down on the countertop, diligently averting his glance. “I’m fine.”

“Is that so?” At Diluc’s silence, he presses on. “Perhaps you should close up early, just in case. You look like you could use some rest.”

“No need,” Diluc says. “It’s just— “Hiih… hiIIH-nGK-t! Hiih… HIiIH…-!!.... hiIIh-GKt!” The sneezes snap him forward, his shoulders trembling with the motion. He straightens with an almost imperceptible shiver. “—just dust, snf. Perhaps the Knights would be more efficient if you put more time into work instead of investigating less…” Diluc looks to him at last, his jaw tightly set. “...pressing matters.”

“Ah.” Kaeya laughs. “So eager to get rid of me?”

“Your concern is unnecessary. I already intend to close up earlier than usual.”

That’s surprising, to say the least—Diluc usually never cancels plans to suit himself. “So you really aren’t feeling well,” Kaeya says, suddenly worried. If it’s so bad that even Diluc is closing up early...

He must not be doing a good job keeping the concern off his face, because Diluc just scoffs dismissively, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s not that.” He coughs softly into his raised elbow. “I have somewhere to be.”

“Hmm, to think you said no late night excursions...”

“There’s a banquet tomorrow that I’m expected to attend.”

And yet he won't be closing up for another few hours. And yet he’s here, with the start of a cold, looking exhausted and unwell, and still—for reasons Kaeya can’t fathom—he intends to work late into the night and then spend the entire day tomorrow at some pretentious social event. Kaeya knows that having to entertain strangers is exhausting to Diluc even on regular occasions. He also knows that whatever Diluc is coming down with is unlikely to resolve itself in just a night’s rest.

“For the winery?” he asks. “My, such impressive dedication to the business… surely you can send Elzer on your behalf?”

Diluc’s shoulders tense in a way that suggests that he is as reluctant about attending as Kaeya expected. “I can’t. The host requested my presence.”

“At the very least,” Kaeya says, “You should close up a bit earlier.” He glances over his shoulder to peer through the first floor windows. It’s dark outside—too dark to come to any conclusions, but earlier today, the sky had been too heavy, the air prickling with humidity, the clouds overhead sprawling and dark. “It wouldn’t do you any good to get caught up in the rain.”

“The rain is of no consequence to me,” Diluc says, in the kind of tone that suggests that he doesn’t intend to close up early at all.

“Even with a cold?” “I don’t have a cold.”

Kaeya shrugs.  “Well, if you’re certain.” He pushes his mug forward so that it rests on the countertop, right within Diluc’s reach, and counts the mora out beside it. “Goodnight, Diluc.”

He turns on his heels. Years ago, he might’ve stayed longer. He might’ve insisted for Diluc to take care of himself and not left his side until he had.

But it’s been years. Diluc left, and Kaeya tried to muster up the pieces of himself that had existed independent of him—he’d taught himself how to lie, tricked himself into believing that the person he’d trusted most hadn’t left him—and now even though Diluc is back, sometimes it feels as if Kaeya barely knows him at all.

If Diluc won’t take care of himself, then that’s his prerogative. It’s stopped being Kaeya’s problem a long time ago.

—

Kaeya has every intention of leaving Diluc alone.

That is, until he’s at the Knights’ headquarters, listening in on a conversation that he doesn’t quite mean to eavesdrop on but hasn’t gone out of his way not to avoid.

“He keeps taking our work,” one of the Knights says. “It’s awful. Last time we spent all our time finding this one domain—Fatui territory, alright? We had a whole expedition team ready to scout out the domain the next day. Then the next day, we get there and the place is abandoned. Everything’s been scorched. Must’ve been a pyro user.” “How do you know it was him?”

“Trust me, you’d know. How many pyro visions are there in Teyvat? It’s like the legends say. He doesn’t leave any room unturned. He’s more thorough than a team of our men put together.”

“Gentlemen,” Kaeya says loudly, smiling when they startle and turn to look at him in synchronicity. “What are you talking about?”

“The Darknight Hero,” one of the knights offers haltingly. “Last night he took down one of the Fatui strongholds we were planning to deal with. Talk about an annoyance, huh?”

“Oh? How heroic. It seems he lives up to his title,” Kaeya says. His mind is reeling. Diluc? But last night, Diluc had been working late. He’d gone home right after, hadn’t he? It wouldn’t make sense for him to be out last night. Unless, of course...

He would really, really like to believe that Diluc’s self-preservation instincts are better than that.

“I’ve been saying,” says another knight. “We were supposed to be scouting out the area right now. Chances are, there will be nothing left there that’s of any use to us.”

“Seeing as we have nothing to do today,” the first knight says, his expression hardening, “maybe we can conduct a search party for the Darknight Hero instead. See what he has to say about withholding information from the Knights.”

“Let’s not be too hasty here,” Kaeya cuts in, before the other Knights have a chance to offer their assent. “It’s unlikely that the Darknight Hero would be out during the day, isn’t it? Rest assured, I’ll make sure that it’s looked into. In the meantime, have you asked the Acting Grandmaster for a new assignment?”

The knight in question falters. “No, but…”

Kaeya smiles pointedly at him—the kind of vicious smile that, around knights and strangers alike, never fails to intimidate. “Then perhaps you should get to it, don’t you think?”

He waits until he’s sure they’ll be busy with something else. Maybe they’re mistaken. Maybe Diluc had gone to scout out the area on some previous occasion, and the Knights are only now paying witness to his usual efficiency.

Or maybe Diluc has forgone a night of rest in lieu of playing hero to Mondstadt in the pouring rain. And now he’s at a banquet somewhere, with a miserable cold that he’s most likely intent on telling himself he doesn’t have.

It’s been awhile since Kaeya’s been to a banquet. He misses the alcohol, the music, the extravagant decorations. It’s easy enough to tell himself that that’s the reason why he’s going.

—

It’s not difficult to get in. Kaeya is well-acquainted with having to sweet talk his way into lowering someone’s defenses.

Inside the banquet hall, it’s crowded. It is as pretentious a setup as it gets—visitors wearing suits and ballroom gowns, walls adorned with streamers and gold plaques, tables laid out with refreshments of all sorts. The building it’s being held in has at least two floors and too many side rooms to count.

He spots Diluc from across the room—red hair is rare enough that he’s not easy to miss. Diluc is currently engaging in conversation with someone Kaeya hasn’t seen before.

It’s likely that Diluc has found the person who explicitly requested his presence—probably someone with a business deal that he thinks warrants a personal talk with the owner of Dawn Winery. If Kaeya interrupts Diluc while he’s negotiating some sort of once-in-a-lifetime deal, Diluc will never let him live it down. So instead, he grabs a drink as an excuse to get closer and stands a few tables away to listen in.

Up close, Diluc’s cold is practically impossible to miss. His clothes look freshly ironed, but his hair is still damp at the tips—he’s changed into dry clothes, then, but his wet hair seems to only confirm the hypothesis that he was, in fact, scouting out domains last night in the rain instead of getting a wink of sleep. Diluc has always been pale, but now there’s a flush high on his cheeks that Kaeya thinks could only be a result of an impending fever. He is standing with his arms crossed—a last attempt to keep warm, perhaps—with a handkerchief gripped loosely in one hand. Faint shivers break the line of his shoulders.

Kaeya feels a pang in his chest. Diluc looks…

Kaeya watches as Diluc twists away with a soft apology and a wrenching sneeze that snaps him forward at the waist.

...miserable.

“That was merely my expectation,” the man says. “Crepus and I were business partners, do you know that? You don’t seem like the type of person who would choose this profession. I am sure your priorities lie elsewhere.”

Diluc clears his throat. “I have no qualms against upholding the family business.” His voice—though usually smooth and mellifluous—has taken on a rough edge to it, as if from overuse.

“Of course, I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise,” the man says. “I am sure you’re aware of your options, no? You could make a fortune selling off the winery if you so desired.”

“If you are...” Diluc starts, though his sentence is punctuated by a soft, desperate gasp, and he turns away just in time, ducking into his handkerchief. “hiIh…. Hiih… hiih’GKt—CHhiiew! Snf-!” His eyes stay shut in anticipation, the grip tightening around the handkerchief as his shoulders jerk with another sharp intake of breath.  “Hiih… Hiiih… Iiih’DZsshh-iu! haAHH’iIKTch-iIIew!” he sniffles wetly, barely suppressing a violent shiver.

“If you are here to gauge whether or not I intend to sell the winery, I can assure you that I do not,” he says, quieter than usual.

“Ah, of course, just a question.” The man leans forward, lowers his voice. “Truthfully, I am more interested in a partnership. It’s come to my attention that you have an excess of wine sitting in the winery’s cellars. If you can get me the amount of Dandelion Wine I need at a discounted price, I can sell it down in Liyue for a profit.”

“I have no interest in expanding the business any further,” Diluc says. “The excess will sell out easily in the spring when demand rises for Windblume.”

“I urge you to give it some consideration. Dandelion Wine is a specialty to Mondstadt. Think about the profitability of expanding to somewhere where dandelions are hard to come by,“ the man says. “You could stand to double or even triple the prices per bottle. I am only asking to take a fraction of your stock, see? Ten percent would be enough.”

He says it as if ten percent isn’t anything substantial, but Kaeya can’t help but think that there’s something wrong here—both with the presentation of the offer and with its suddenness. From here, Diluc’s expression is unreadable—it betrays only slight discomfort when he turns to the side, muffling harsh, forceful coughs into his suit sleeve, and murmurs a reflexive apology. No hesitation—not the slightest hint of wariness—even though the Diluc Kaeya remembers wouldn’t agree to raising prices so drastically without good reason.

“I can handle all transportation and deliver the profits to you in a few months,” the man presses on, interpreting Diluc’s untelling silence as interest. “My associates have done research on the market in Liyue and where it would be best to sell. You wouldn’t have to do anything differently from your end. All that I ask is for you to trust me with the first shipment and compensate me fairly after I handle the marketing and transportation.”

Diluc sniffles. “Forgive me,” he says, bracing himself with one hand against the table behind him as he ducks forward violently into a raised arm.  “hiIh’nGKT-chhiEW! HIih… I do n-not… hhH… Hiih-! hiIH’iiikT-CHhiew! Sdf-! Ugh… hiIIH’NGKT-CHhiew!” He leans slightly into his side, and though the gesture is well-disguised, Kaeya can tell just how much he’s bracing his weight on the table. It’s concerning, to say the least. Is he really too tired to stand upright? “...I do not expect to give out so much wine without a proper assessment of the risk. If you believe the model to be profitable, you are free to… t-to… hh-! to purchase…. hiIH… haAA’iiKTT-CHh!-u! hiIh’iiiTSSHhh’uh! snf-!” The congestion in his voice is evident in all of his consonants, and his gaze flickers down to his handkerchief in unspoken desperation, though Kaeya suspects he’s too polite to blow his nose in front of a business partner.

“...You are free to purchase wine at the same rate as I offer other corporate partners. I cannot - coughcough - I cannot offer such a large first-time shipment for free based on only an assumption that it will be successful.”

Kaeya can see the exact moment the smugness drops off of the man’s face. His eyes harden at Diluc’s hesitation, his practiced smile shifting into the approximation of a sneer.

“An assumption? You don’t trust my ability to see the operation through to the end?” He says, still in the same polite, haughty tone of his. “As a long-time associate of your father, I would have thought I would have earned your trust as well. Unless, of course, you simply don’t agree with Crepus’s assessments?”

Kaeya can see the way Diluc’s jaw tightens at the query. He clears his throat softly, though the brief wince that follows suggests that the action is far from painless.  

“His vision for the company is - snf - very important to me,” he says simply.

The man waves a flippant hand. “Or perhaps once he left, you decided you knew better? I mean, you have grown up so much, so I’m sure you feel more than capable of handling his affairs, regardless of whether or not you’re doing it his way. I don’t blame you.”

As the man turns around to pour himself a drink, Kaeya sees a flash of blue and gold tucked into his suit pocket. It takes him another moment to realize what it is.

A Fatui sergeant’s insignia—for identification purposes, or just a habit, likely.

This man isn’t a business partner of Crepus’s at all.

Now, the man wheels around, holding one drink in each hand. Alcohol, clearly—though it sparkles, faintly red. “Ah, well. I can’t say I’m not disappointed, but your decisions are understandable. A friend of mine has been working on a drink that mixes certain Liyuen specialties and Dandelion Wine—would you give it a try?”

“I don’t drink,” Diluc says haltingly.

“Just a sip wouldn’t hurt,” the man says, raising an eyebrow. “If you are anything like Crepus, you must have developed quite the refined taste when it comes to wine. Perhaps you could speak for the quality?”

“I’m sorry,” Diluc says quietly. “I am… Hiih… f-feeling… hH…. hiIih’iIKT-chHIew! Sdf!... slightly under the weather.” Kaeya blinks at him, disbelieving. Such an outright admission is practically unheard of, when it comes to Diluc—but then again, it’s a convenient excuse, and Kaeya is not under the impression that he really knows him. Diluc lifts a hand to his face, sniffling hard. “I’m afraid I would not be able to taste it.”

“You state the obvious,” the man drawls, and Diluc’s shoulders hunch slightly as he turns his face away, his cheeks reddening slightly. “Actually, that’s one of the reasons why I recommended this drink. It’s made with Jueyun chilis. Should be good for clearing up a cold.”

“Is that so?” Diluc says, still frowning.

“Perhaps you could speak to its efficacy?”

Slowly—hesitantly—Diluc lifts the glass. The man watches him like a hawk—too eagerly, if anything. Kaeya presumes that he either wants Diluc poisoned or too intoxicated not to be swayed, and hauling home a Diluc who can’t hold his own sounds like more than he’s signed up for, so now would be a good time to interfere. Diluc can be mad at him later.

Kaeya, for all he’s attempted over the years, has plenty of practice making his entrances as obnoxiously showy as possible.

“My, my,” he says, striding in with a drink in hand to settle right next to Diluc. “The esteemed owner of the Dawn Winery.” Just for the way Diluc grimaces at the title, his eyebrows furrowing, he decides this intervention has been worth it. “And… who’s this?”

Diluc veers away from Kaeya to stifle—a soft, near-silent stifle that must be exhausting to suppress.

“A business partner,” the man answers through gritted teeth.

“Must be a busy job,” Kaeya says, snatching Diluc’s drink out of his hand and setting it down on the table behind him. “Given, of course, that you have two.” He takes an efficient step forward and swipes the insignia out of the so-called business partner’s pocket.

“I do wonder why the Fatui would be so interested in the Dawn Winery,” he says calmly, ignoring the man’s indignant yelp of protest. He turns the insignia over in his hands, contemplative. “Did you really think the owner of the largest wine business in Mondstadt would be so easy to scam?”

The sergeant swears. “You asshole—!”

Kaeya reaches for the sword tucked into his belt. He knows it wouldn’t be a fair fight, seeing that the man seems very much unarmed, but it’s as good as anything as a threat. “I don’t suppose you’ll try this again?” he says. “I can’t claim to be the best swordsman in Mondstadt—that title goes to the previous cavalry captain, but maybe tonight I can come in second.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh? Do you want to find out if I am?”

“No,” the agent says. “I wasn’t finished having my conversation.”

“Well, what a shame.” Kaeya doesn’t wait for him to think of a response. He takes Diluc’s arm and turns abruptly to haul Diluc towards the exit.

Diluc goes along easily enough. It’s only when they get outside that the frustration—from watching Diluc push himself, stubbornly, to this extent—boils over.

“Diluc,” he says, turning on his heels. “Really? After a late night shift at the tavern, your first thought was to forgo rest to spend all night scouting out a Fatui domain? In the rain, for that matter?”

Diluc turns away, his expression unchanging. “That’s not worth mentioning.”

“Perhaps you’d claim that attending a banquet directly afterwards is not worth mentioning, either? Your hair’s still wet. And that encounter with the Fatui sergeant—what’s gotten into you? Since when have you been so careless?”

He’s almost certain Diluc can hear the unspoken accusation behind it. This isn’t like you. Diluc is hasty—he has a tendency to overestimate himself and involve himself in situations he knows will be dangerous—but he isn’t careless.

“—I knew he wasn’t one of Crepus’s associates.” Diluc explains, with a soft, liquid sniffle. He turns away, lifting an arm to his face. “I would’ve - hhihH-!! - snf, I would’ve recognized him if he were, sdf.” his eyes drift shut; he buries his face into his suit sleeve, sniffling. “Crepus made it a point to… hiIh…-! hIIIh… to introduce him to everyone he - HIiIIih… sdf-!! ...Everyone he worked closely with.”

“Is that so?” Kaeya says, but it’s not enough. “Then why did you entertain him?”

Diluc is quiet for a moment. When Kaeya looks over, it’s to a dazed, bleary expression before he ducks harshly into his raised elbow with a forceful, “hiIh’nNGKT-chHIEw! hiIH’IITCHh-chhUU!! Snf-!”

He doesn’t lift his elbow from his face. “I w-wanted… snf-! more -  hiIh-!...information,” he says. “If I were to know more about what he was planning, it would make it easier for me to find any fraudulent - hiIih-!! Snf-! - transactions in the company’s history if I knew what to - hIih-hiIh’iIKTch-IIiu! Excuse me… snf-! -to look for.”

“Bless you. There are better ways to do that,” Kaeya says. “No need to do it when you’re evidently unwell.”

Diluc peeks out from behind his arm, which he still hasn’t lowered from his face. His face is flushed up to his ears—easy enough to dismiss as fever, though Kaeya knows that’s not all there is to it.

Diluc has always been embarrassed about admitting weakness. Kaeya sighs, fishes through his own pockets for a spare handkerchief.

“I have to say, Diluc,” he says, holding out the handkerchief — which Diluc accepts hurriedly, turning away to clean up whatever mess he’s made of his sleeve - “My weekends would be much less eventful -”

“hiiihh’GKTTt-CHh’yyew! snf-!”

“- if I could trust you to look after yourself,” Kaeya finishes, raising an eyebrow. “Bless you, by the way.”

“I know my limits,” Diluc says.

Kaeya huffs a sigh. “But you don’t honor them, do you?”

Diluc frowns, looking away. “I would have been fine if you hadn’t showed up.”

Kaeya stares at him. It’s half in disbelief, half in exasperation—but Diluc has always been like this, hasn’t he? Insistent on his own self-sufficiency. Hesitant to admit he might, in any way, be infallible.

I would’ve been fine.

“You always are,” he says finally, with a smile that he doesn’t mean.

If Diluc so diligently insists on refusing his help, perhaps Kaeya should take a hint. Mondstadt is a half hour away—less, if he hurries. He quickens his pace. It’s fortunate, he thinks, that the rain stopped early this morning, after—

Diluc grabs his arm.

Kaeya wheels around, suddenly worried that Diluc might be feeling much worse than he’d let on, but Diluc’s expression betrays nothing as he lowers his hand to his side.

“Thank you,” he says—a soft, private admission.

Kaeya clears his throat, waves a dismissive hand. “I assure you, I have plenty more handkerchiefs.”

“No,” Diluc says quietly, looking away. “Not just for that.”

[jaskiersvalley]

🌼~BEAUTIFUL PERSON AWARD! Once you are given this award you’re supposed to paste it in the asks of 8 people who deserve it. If you break the chain nothing happens, but it's sweet to know someone thinks you’re beautiful inside and out.~🌼 xoxo toss a coin to your bard

You are far too sweet to send this, and my apologies for sitting on this so long without replying! I will definitely be continuing the game and appearing as a loving anon in ask boxes soon. In the meantime, here's a little ficlet of thank you.

As a bit of background, I've been watching Centaurworld recently and this song (Rider's Lullaby) has been stuck in my head for days. So I thought I'd give it a bit of a twist and let the horses of Kaer Morhen have it.

Lullaby of the Wolf

Winters weren't a time of rest for just Witchers. Their trusted companions on the perilous Path were also granted some much needed rest. Roach and Scorpion went years back, familiar enough with each other that Roach's disdain and Scorpion's less desirable personality traits no longer caused problems. They could even be housed in neighbouring stalls which was a major breakthrough on an especially cold winter. All the same, it was a welcome surprise when a bay gelding separated them.

"You're not the prickly bastard's," Roach sniffed daintily.

"My rider travels with him. They call me Nettle. Because I'm a pain in the butt."

There was a snort from Roach and Scorpion laughed heartily at that.

"Bossman called me Scorpion because I stung his pride. He really hoped for a nice juicy steak as his surprise."

Roach dryly cut in, "He should have eaten you anyway, probably would if he could understand you."

Nettle, rather wisely, decided not to comment on that. Or the colourful swearing Scorpion went off on about how a full blooded stallion like him was...actually, Nettle tuned it out in favour of watching a goat trot into the stable and give him a hard stare.

"Prickly's mate is staying, teach him."

Which was how Nettle spent the rest of winter learning the way of a Wolf Witcher's horse. Though he was a Cat Witcher's steed, he was deemed worthy of being brought into the fold. Namely, the lullaby. While horses' singing wasn't audible to humans, Witcher or not, it still seemed to help. Not only did it seem to soothe the Witchers, it helped the horses too, gave them something to focus on outside the wild panic of the situation at hand.

Despite none of them being exceptionally gifted in the way of singing, they all joined in, their soft voices joining to make a chorus.

"Where did the song come from?"

"The old one's mule taught us. Who was taught by the mule before," Roach explained.

The goat, Lil Bleater, chipped in. "It's been passed down generations. Sometimes the old one still hums it. Especially when he's been left by his pups each spring."

That wasn't something Nettle ever heard. But he dutifully memorised the song and even sang it softly under his breath on the way down the mountain, where his human and his mate were tense, as worried as they were on the way up. The others had been right, though they couldn't hear the song, they both relaxed whenever Nettle sang.

It was pure luck that the prickly one's payment for a contract was a horse. She was black, had a tendency to be lame when she didn't want to do something and was, inevitably, named Bitch. Even if she was the nicest horse Nettle had ever met.

"You're a Wolf Witcher's horse now," he told her in the evening as they were left to graze on the sparse grass. "There's some things you need to learn."

Travelling together, Nettle taught Bitch the song. She was definitely suspicious at first.

"Just go lame, they won't pull you in the direction of danger. It's much easier."

Nettle laughed at that. "Their job is to go into danger. And ours is to follow. This is what we can do for them. Carry them, be there for them when nobody else wants to be. It's not much but sometimes we're the only thing they have. It's an honour."

So together they sang and Bitch learned to be brave. She appreciated not being coerced into things, no forceful shoving, no smacks. A lot of cursing and name calling, even a threat of being eaten if she didn't get with the programme but it was all empty words. The underlying impression she got from her prickly owner was that he cared and that was his problem. Because his fragile heart couldn't bear the idea of more senseless loss. Everyone knew the fate of those who got close to a Witcher, human, horse, goat, they all eventually died. But Bitch grew fond of him, she sang the song Nettle had taught her the first night they were alone. Nettle and his Witcher had to head off, she didn't pay much attention to the reason, her main concern was her prickly one and his sudden sullen coldness. It seemed Nettle had been right, Witcher sometimes only had their horses.

They'd been alone together for weeks. Human settlements came and went, monsters too. Her job was to make sure her human got from one place to the next and, sometimes, she kicked up a fuss still, limping in an effort to get him to rest. Despite her best efforts he was still miserable, obviously missing the company of his mate even when he vehemently denied the need for anything but solitude.

Trust was an easy thing to earn. Bitch was content to follow her new owner, following after him obediently. Though his job was as odds with her nature, he had yet to lead her wrong. And she no longer gave him grief either, only insisting on breaks when he needed them too. At least, that was what she told herself until she heard a soft baritone shakily singing.

"You're okay, you're alright, I'll never ever leave your side."

The voice buckled, a soft "I'm sorry" that most certainly wasn't part of the song whispered before continuing, "I will stay and I will fight with you."

Stomping her feet, Bitch pulled at her reins. It had her prickly owner cursing and pulling back, trying to get her to follow along. However, they weren't moving towards the song and Bitch wasn't going to let this go. Rearing up, the yanked her reins free and started off at a canter towards the voice. She ignored the cursing and yelling from behind, trusting her Witcher to follow. Off the path, she crashed into a clearing where a dark horse was curled around a large body. As she clattered to a halt, the horse snorted defensively, ears pinned back.

"If you know what's good for you, you fuck off right now," he snarled. The smell of blood made Bitch shift uncomfortably.

"The song! I know it!" As she approached, the other horse snorted in warning and slowly got to his feet, standing protectively over the barely conscious Witcher.

Though Bitch tried to sing the song, the other horse pawed at the ground. He would have no trouble running her down, they both knew it. Before he could charge though, Bitch's Witcher tumbled into the clearing and blinked once.

"Fucking hell Eskel, what the bloody tits have you done?" There was no hesitation as he barged up to the body and gave the large horse a two handed shove with a growled "move it".

"He's mine," Bitch said, plain and simple. "I've not had him long but he's a good man."

"I know, Prickly is part of Bossman's herd. Didn't think Prickly ever really wanted a steed."

"He didn't. But he got me anyway. Calls me Bitch."

"Nice. I go by Scorpion." The dark horse trotted closer, turning to look at his human with sadness. "I wouldn't do anything to help. I'm glad you brought Prickly here."

They watched together as a camp was quickly set up, potions poured in the fallen Witcher's mouth and wounds tended to with gruff efficiency.

"We might as well settle in," Scorpion announced. "It'll be a couple of days at least before we get moving. And knowing these two, we'll stay in close quarters for a while yet. Welcome to the herd."