#make it about defending and raising humanity just like the Illusive Man says

[death-rebirth-senshi]

Though actually I would say I'm finally over mass effect 3's ending. Like whatever yeah I hate it. Moving on.

[cinnaminsvga]

🌷 social media au where y/n posts an advertisement looking for a new place to stay that is closer to campus, causing seven upperclassmen to make it their mission to recruit her into their dormitories 🌷

A/N: THIS TOOK FOREVER AND I KINDA RUSHED IT AT THE END BUT HOPEFULLY IT MAKES SENSE?? anyway, yoongi didn’t do anything stupid (depending on your definition of stupid) so no need to worry about him being cringey,,, i spared you all from the secondhand embarrassment but i won’t be so kind next time!! anyway... enjoy || W.C. 3.8K

prev // part 11 // next masterlist here.

By the time Seokjin’s phone begins to ring, Yoongi can already feel the dread settle deep inside his bones. The familiar coil of anxiety tightens around his throat like a vice, and Yoongi has to remember how to breathe to keep himself from fainting like a corseted Victorian lady. 

“Well, that must be her!” Seokjin chimes, promptly declining your call without a glance. Yoongi catches a glimpse of your contact photo anyway: it’s an unflattering angle of you from below your neck, giving the illusion of a multitude of chins. If it were any other time, Yoongi might have smiled like a lovesick fool. 

“Don’t you dare let her in here,” Yoongi seethes. He tries to sound menacing, but the effect is severely diminished by how badly his voice cracks. He tugs at Seokjin by the sleeve, but the older man refuses to budge. “Hyung, I’m serious. I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Are you done live-tweeting your confusion now? Finally got the memo? I always knew you were a smart boy,” Seokjin laughs, patting Yoongi on the shoulder with his tomato sauce-covered tongs. “Since we’re on the same page now, why don’t you change clothes while I finish cooking? I know your entire wardrobe is composed of the free t-shirts you got from job fairs, but it would do well to wear a clean, unstained shirt.”

Yoongi swipes at him, hissing like the catboy that he is. “You’re the one who wiped shit on me, asshole. And yes, I figured out what you are trying to do. You think you’re so slick, but I know that you’re just trying to embarrass me in front of Y/N!”

Seokjin shrugs. “It isn’t like I’m trying to be slick. I embarrass you all the time. Besides, I’m setting you up on a date with the love of your life! You should be thanking me, if I’m being honest.”

Yoongi stammers, his jaw dropping in shock. “Love of my–?”

Seokjin waves his tongs in his face, silencing him. “Oh, hush. Don’t even try to hide it, Yoongi. I figured out that you like Y/N. Your weird behavior finally makes sense! After years of you avoiding her, I always thought you were just bad at forming human connections, but turns out you’ve got a gigantic heart boner for my best friend!”

“Please don’t phrase it like that,” Yoongi groans, smashing his head against his kitchen counter. He hopes a few brain cells might have died, just so he can stop processing the words coming out of Seokjin’s mouth. “Actually, just please stop talking.”

Seokjin snorts in exasperation as if Yoongi was the dramatic one between them. “Point is, this is a favor that I’ve chosen to grant you from the goodness of my heart! As I said, I’m giving you the love life you deserve! So stop whining and get moving before Y/N gets up here.”

“There isn’t any goodness nor a heart inside of you. And more importantly, when was the last time you did anything for free, you capitalist bastard!”

Seokjin clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “That’s where you’re wrong, Yoongi-chi. You’ve already paid me for my services by offering me front row seats to watch you lose your fucking mind. And that, my friend, is priceless.”

“Aha! So you do admit that this is all just a ploy to humiliate me!” Yoongi shouts. He grabs a knife from his scabbard, pointing it threateningly at Seokjin. He doesn’t even flinch, instead gently guiding Yoongi by the wrist over to the chopping board where he had placed some garlic cloves beforehand. Without prompting, Yoongi’s hand begins to move, his culinary instincts taking over.

“Yes and no,” Seokjin admits as he grabs Yoongi’s cast iron pan from the top shelf (which he has never gotten to use since he bought it, ever since Seokjin had borrowed it once and placed it too high for him to retrieve.) “I’m honestly trying to help you out here, my dude. Besides, even if shit hits the fan, Y/N isn’t gonna think any less of you. She’s too much of an idiot to resent anyone.”

“Speaking from experience?” Yoongi huffs, eyeing him with intense vitriol. “Can’t say I understand how she’s gone this long without killing you.” The next time the two of them are alone together in the wilderness, he can’t promise that his hands won’t find their way around Seokjin’s throat, and it won’t be sexy.

“Hmm. Yeah, definitely,” he says, nodding absentmindedly. As he begins to season the steak, he hands the cast iron pan to Yoongi. “Start preheating this. We need it to be smoking hot before we can place the steak on there.”

“I know how to cook a steak, fucker. And who said you’re allowed to serve my Wagyu steak? I was saving that for a special occasion!”

Seokjin looks up from his ministrations long enough to raise a brow at him. “So going on your first ever date with Y/N isn’t considered a special occasion?”

Yoongi falters, eyes widening. “N-no, that’s not what I mean!” he defends hotly, but he quickly snaps out of it. “Wait, no! This is not a date! Not when both parties did not agree to any of this!”

Seokjin pauses from his cooking to place a perfectly manicured hand on his hip. “I mean, Y/N agreed to it, so are you going to reject her? Huh? Too good for her and my spaghetti?”

Yoongi scoffs, rolling his eyes. “No, she did not agree to this. She doesn’t even know you’re forcing her to eat lunch with me.”

“How can you say that with such certainty?” Seokjin challenges, puffing his cheeks. “You don’t even know what I told her!”

Except I do know what you said, Yoongi thinks darkly to himself. And more importantly, I know what she thinks you were implying. He is pretty sure that the words “crush on him during high school” have seared themselves underneath his eyelids forevermore.

But instead, he says, “Yeah, well. If what you told her is as vague as what you told me, I have a pretty good hunch that this is going to blow up into a huge misunderstanding.”

Like the absolute menace that he is, all Seokjin does is shrug nonchalantly. “Suppose you are right… Who cares? It’s not like the two of you are strangers, so I’m sure this is going to go great!”

“What the fuck? She is a stranger! I’ve literally only spoken two words to her in the past four years!” Yoongi seethes, his temple throbbing from an oncoming migraine. 

Seokjin ignores him, as per his want. “Grab that plate, will you? I gotta plate the pasta before Y/N starts calling again to let her into the building,” he says, nudging the tongs into Yoongi’s hands. Yoongi squawks, quickly turning the stove off to keep the food from burning. 

Seokjin tears off his (read: Yoongi’s) apron off, wiping his hands on his jeans with a quick smile. “Great! While you finish up here, I’ll distract Y/N for a bit in my room before I lead her in here, alright? You better hurry unless you want to keep her waiting!”

“Oh, like how you kept her waiting downstairs for the past–” Yoongi checks his wall clock, “–seven minutes?”

Seokjin cackles madly, rushing out the door. “Well, that’s where you and I differ, Yoongi-chi! I give no shits about how Y/N thinks about me, so good luck!” After sending Yoongi three flying kisses for good measure, Seokjin slams the door shut, leaving Yoongi to simmer in his bad life choices.

The worst choice that he’s ever made? Being friends with one (1) Kim Seokjin.

“God, just end me,” Yoongi mutters, placing his $80 steak on his pan. It sizzles deliciously, much like how his (nonexistent) love life is about to get burnt to a crisp.

x x x x x

“Took you long enough.” You watch as Seokjin taunts you with a funny little dance by the lobby of his dormitory, the building receptionist not even batting an eye at his eccentricity. That’s the sad side effect of living in close proximity with Seokjin: you start getting desensitized to most things, not even flinching at the sight of a man without a functioning central nervous system.

Seokjin slides his card to open the door, finally allowing you entry. “Sorry. Got busy preparing your lunch! Which by the way, you should be thanking me for.”

“The moment I thank you for anything is the day that you slip on your own cum and die,” you grouse, nudging past him to get on the elevator first. You punch the button for the 5th floor before rapidly trying to close the elevator door on him. Unfortunately, Seokjin makes it in time before his ass gets clamped by the two steel doors.

“Thinking about my cum? Oh my, Y/N… I know you’ve had a dry spell for too long, but I didn’t think you’d be that desperate for some of my butter,” Seokjin says, leaning closely to wink at you.

Against your will, your cheeks brighten furiously, weakly pushing Seokjin away from you. “You wish. At least I don’t spend my spare time loitering outside the campus gym to ogle all the sweaty hot people.”

“And the invitation to join me still stands by the way!” Seokjin singsongs, leaping out of the elevator once you reach his floor. You walk side by side until you reach his room, but you catch him shooting a furtive glance at his next-door neighbor.

“Is Yoongi joining us for lunch?” you ask, failing to keep your curiosity from showing in your voice. If Yoongi does end up joining you for lunch (which has never happened in the past four years, convincing you that he must have a personal grudge against you), then at least it can confirm to you straight away that whatever this “date” is just another prank by Seokjin. You don’t know if you should be disappointed or grateful if it is just a joke.

Seokjin beams in response, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “You know what? He is going to join us, actually!” 

He had been in the midst of unlocking his dorm when he changes direction, leading you to Yoongi’s door instead. He rifles through his other keys, and you notice one of them looks similar to his own house key, except with a Hello Kitty sticker on it. He pulls that key out and promptly unlocks Yoongi’s door without missing a beat.

What kind of weirdo must Yoongi be to give Seokjin a spare key to his dorm? You’d rather shit out a cactus than let Seokjin have free entry to your home whenever he pleases.

You hesitate by Yoongi’s door, feeling nervous all of a sudden. “Um, Seokjin? Are you sure it’s okay for me to–?”

“HONEY I’M HOOOOME!” Seokjin’s loud guffaw cuts you off before you can finish your question. He bursts through the door and leaves you by the hallway, and you watch as he nearly tackles Yoongi to the ground.

Yoongi, despite looking like he’s half the size of Seokjin on a good day, manages to keep upright despite how his back is now bent parallel to the floor. “Get off me!” he yells, roughly pushing Seokjin off of him. 

Seokjin tumbles to the floor, but the shit-eating grin on his face hardly wavers. He points at you by the doorway, a cheeky grin on his lips. “Look, Yoongi-chi! I brought a guest!”

Yoongi spares you half a glance before returning his attention to whatever he was cooking. “I suppose you did.”

Okay, this date is definitely a joke. Why the hell did you even think for a second that Seokjin might have been into you?

“Um,” you stutter nervously. You grind your heel into the carpet self-consciously, your gaze downcast. “Hello, Yoongi. Sorry for the intrusion, by the way…”

“It’s fine,” Yoongi replies, albeit a little curtly. He clears his throat, his face still tilted away from you so you can’t tell if he’s genuinely annoyed or not. 

You point a glare at Seokjin, who looks shamelessly pleased with himself. After taking a deep breath, you take your first steps into Yoongi’s home before gently closing the door.

As you look around at your new surroundings, you notice that his home is a lot cleaner than you would have expected, though you’re not exactly sure what you should have expected in the first place. It’s minimalist, but not in a barren type of way; it’s seems like Yoongi is fond of simple designs more than anything. It’s certainly a nice change of pace compared to Seokjin’s abomination of a room, with his vaguely yellow-stained bedsheets. 

The smell of freshly cooked pasta and meat being grilled catches your senses immediately. You watch as Yoongi flips over a hefty piece of steak, the aroma causing your mouth to salivate instantly. 

“I… What is… Huh?” you start, not knowing what to ask. You catch Seokjin snickering quietly to himself, but promptly shuts up when you mime punching him in the dick.

“It’ll be finished in a second. Why don’t you sit down?” Yoongi announces quietly, his gaze still fixed away from you. Confused but left with no other choice, you tentatively make your way to his couch, unable to relax as your spine remains ramrod straight and your jaw stays clenched. 

You hear Seokjin shuffling behind you until he eventually makes his way to sit with you, plopping onto the couch as if it were his home. “Ah… I’m soooo hungry. Smells good, doesn’t it?” he asks you, his brow wiggling too much to be considered normal. Either that, or he was having a stroke.

“Yeah, it does,” you say, greatly uncomfortable. You peek at Yoongi once more, who is still dutifully attending to the steak. Making sure he isn’t looking, you twist Seokjin by the nipple, causing the elder to let out a high-pitched squeal. To an outsider, it might have almost sounded like he was being pleasured. 

“Ouch! What the fuck was that for?” Seokjin whines, rubbing his tenderized nipples. 

“You know what that was for,” you hiss, keeping your volume low. “What the hell are we doing here? Why are you making Yoongi cook for us?!”

“For us? It’s for you!” Seokjin snaps back. “Didn’t you say you would only come over if you got fed? Well, this is how you get fed!”

“I was under the assumption that you would be feeding me, not him!” you seethe. You check back on Yoongi, who still hasn’t looked your way once. “The poor boy… No wonder he doesn’t like me! He must think I’m as bad as you!”

Seokjin snorts. “Of course he likes you! This whole lunch date wouldn’t have even fucking happened if he wasn’t assdeep in lo–”

“Lunch is finished,” Yoongi interrupts loudly, his spatula rattling loudly against his pan. The sudden noise makes you jump away from Seokjin, who appears vaguely triumphant. 

“T-thanks,” you stutter, standing up and resisting the random urge to shake his hand. Everything about this situation is so tense and awkward that it feels like you’re being filmed for a prank Youtube video or something. Knowing Seokjin, the odds of that happening are great. 

“That’s my cue to leave then! Bye! You guys have fun!” Seokjin says, jumping to his feet. 

You vaguely hear Yoongi gasp quietly when you launch yourself at Seokjin, just narrowly keeping from escaping. “Oh no, you don’t! Who said you could leave? You’re not going anywhere!”

But like the slippery snake that he is, Seokjin manages to wriggle out of your arms and hop over Yoongi’s coffee table to get to the door. “Too bad! I have classes to get to, so I gotta blast! Use this time to get to know each other or whatever it is that kids do these days,” he says, winking salaciously. With one final sputter of (evil) laughter, Seokjin makes his exit, leaving you and Yoongi to fester in some good ol’ fashioned discomforting silence.

“Um,” you say, just as Yoongi opens his mouth to say something too.

“No, you go first–”

“You go ahead–”

The two of you pause mid-sentence, staring at each other. You grin sheepishly at him, motioning for him to speak first. 

He returns your smile half-heartedly. “So, um… I just wanted to say I’m sorry for letting Seokjin rope you into this. I tried stopping him, but… You know how he is.”

You laugh, sounding a little crazed even to your own ears. That’s the longest sentence you’ve ever heard him speak! 

“Yeah, believe me… I am intimately aware of how he is. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t,” you joke. 

Amazingly, your little quip makes his smile widen, his cheeks puffing up imperceptibly. “Glad we can agree that Seokjin has the amazing ability to ruin people’s lives. It’s almost welcoming to find solidarity in a shared experience.”

“Shared experience? Try shared trauma. That dude is a walking serotonin sucker,” you say dryly. 

You don’t think what you said was remotely funny enough to warrant a laugh, but it causes Yoongi to let out a loud snort regardless. But the amusement on his face is short-lived, his cheeks going red in embarrassment. He slaps a hand to his mouth, breaking eye contact once more. “Oh fuck, that was so unflattering,” he groans, clearly mortified.

His blush, multiplied by his shy demeanor, makes you want to coo at him, but you doubt he’d take that too kindly. So instead, you change the subject to save him. “So, uhh… The food? You don’t have to give me any, by the way. I wouldn’t want you to waste your lunch on me or anything.”

Yoongi snaps out of his previous embarrassment, returning to the more familiar stoic expression you’ve come to associate with Yoongi. “No, that’s fine. Seokjin–er, rather… I made enough for two people, so it would be a waste if you didn’t eat at least some of it. But I don’t care either way if you want it or not.”

For two people? you wonder. So Yoongi had known Seokjin wasn’t going to join for lunch?

“Oh, if it’s fine with you…” you trail off, meekly making your way towards him. The spaghetti and steak look absolutely delicious, though you don’t need to tell him that when your stomach speaks for you. “Oh shit, that’s so embarrassing,” you say, your cheeks heating up this time.

Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head. “Haven’t eaten breakfast yet, I assume? That’s pretty stupid if you ask me. Don’t you have class until 5? How the hell would you have survived until then?”

You choke in surprise. Where did all that sass suddenly come from? “Excuse me? I’m not stupid! I would’ve been fine with a sandwich from the cafeteria if you must know!” you say indignantly. You’re too busy being offended that you don’t fully comprehend his words, failing to notice how he had known you had class until 5 in the first place.

“Sure, whatever you say.” Rolling his eyes, Yoongi starts shifting through his cupboards and pulling out a pink tupperware. He begins to load them with food, nearly overflowing the containers with how much he tries to stuff in them.

“H-hey! What are you doing?”

“Packing your lunch. You have class in a bit, yeah? It’s almost 11:50 and it takes around 15 minutes to get to the main campus. You won’t have time to eat here and make it in time,” he says, pointing you with a look. “Wait. Did you have coffee this morning?”

“Yeah? So?” you ask, defensive. “Are you gonna call me stupid again for not having caffeine or something?”

“No,” he grunts. “If you’re caffeinated, then that means it should only take you 7 minutes to get to class.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!” you exclaim, but you can’t help letting out an incredulous laugh. “Wow. You’re kinda weird, did you know that?”

“You barely even know me, so how would you know?” he retorts. He finishes placing food into the tupperware and promptly clicks the lid in place. He offers it to you, smirking slightly.

You huff, but your ire is all for show. You aren’t actually annoyed by him–he’s just… different from what you expected. A little shy, a little rough around the edges… but you can tell he isn’t a bad guy. You understand why Seokjin loves to torment him; he seems like a fun person to tease. 

“That can be amended,” you respond, taking the tupperware from him. Your fingers graze the backs of his hand by accident, causing him to quickly retract his hand as though he’d been burned. You nearly drop the container in surprise, but luckily your reflexes save your precious food just in time. 

“Sorry. About… you know.” Yoongi gesticulates wildly, his gaze darting anywhere but at you. 

You smile secretly to yourself, amused. Ah. He’s like a human seesaw. Blushy one second and grumpy the next. “No worries, Yoongi. I’ll be sure to return this container soon, so don’t you worry.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Keep it if you want. I don’t care either way.”

Says the guy who has an entire cupboard full of color coordinating food containers. “Roger that, Yoongi.”

Yoongi walks you out the door, pausing outside the hallway with you. “Do you…” he hesitates, swallowing loudly enough for you to hear. “Do you… want me to walk you out?”

His sudden offer almost makes you want to laugh, but you have a feeling he wouldn’t find it amusing at all. Instead, you just shake your head with a smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t get lost. I think I remember where the door is.”

He pouts, his lips jutting out cutely. “Yeah, well. I was just trying to be nice, but you do you.”

You giggle lightly, patting him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. You were more than nice,” you say, winking for added effect. It does more than you thought it would, causing Yoongi’s cheeks to bloom once more.

With one last wave, you make your way out of the dormitory, your heart a little lighter than before. 

“Huh. That was weird.” You glance at the pink little tupperware in your hands, its warmth keeping your hands safe from the winter chill. As you walk to class, your thoughts are filled with nothing but a shy boy with soft hands and even softer cheeks. Maybe Tuesday isn’t going to be so bad after all.

[inkribbon796]

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes

Summary: Roman and Remus have always fought, always. But this time they’re teaming up for something they both agree on. Getting their mentors together.

A/N: for @aimasup and @pixeldragon45 I might have taken some liberties with the story but I hope you guys like it. I wrote this after seeing this amazing post by aimasup.

Two brothers, royal born but divided in every single way. The elder twin strove for honor and chivalry, raised in the royal court around the other knights and the tales of rulers and knights from the kingdom’s history in ages past. Some stories were true, others had been exaggerated more than a bit. 

The younger twin had been mostly shoved into his elder brother’s shadow — a brother who was older by little less than an hour — and quickly began to act out as a result.

They quickly began to be divided on the battlefield. The younger prince had been kidnapped one day by a powerful shape changing mage when he was sixteen and just decided not to go back and the royal knights found him playing old maid with her in the tower, and he threw them out the door with a note for his parents and brother.

He had declared himself “the monsters’ problem now” and was not coming back.

It was Prince of Sanders Roman’s sword and “good” magic, versus Duke of the Dark Wood Remus’s pranks and illusions.

But that is not today’s story. The fight between good and evil is for another day.

On the edge of the city, bordering the untamable Dark Woods where monsters called home, there was a tavern. It was on a trade road that went around the woods and towards the neighboring kingdom. The tavern was a way stop before reaching the capital city of Roman’s kingdom.

It was absolutely pouring down rain when a cloaked young man ran into the tavern. He pulled down his hood after looking around the tavern. Prince Roman had come to this tavern frequently, it was considered neutral ground because the caravans that came through, the residents of the Dark Woods traded between each other and the merchants protected their clients.

Against a wall, Roman spotted his brother sitting at a table, a plate of food and three empty mugs of ale next to him.

Roman walked over and naturally turned up his nose at the magic keeping Remus from getting too tipsy. “You couldn’t wait until I got in could you?”

“Ahh, brother,” Remus smiled. “I got hungry, I got bored. There’s a very cute bartender over there.”

Remus blew a kiss and waggled his fingers at the young man in question.

“Focus,” Roman hissed at him.

Remus smiled, “So I take it you received my letter?”

“You contemptuous oaf,” Roman sneered at Remus. Roman was pulling out of his cloak a dirt speckled note that had a stick figure drawing of Roman’s fairy godmother and Remus’s mentor, the dragon witch, on it holding hands. The words: canon ship xoxoxoxo maybe?!?! Meet me at the Salty Unicorn at 10pm if you agree plz thx; were written, half scrunched into the left corner of the paper as if the second half was an unplanned addition. On the front it was addressed to: my horridly good brother, Roman; from: your bestest coolest brother, Remus.

Roman shook the note violently. “Did you write this in mud? Mother would have you raked over hot coal for a note this foul!”

Remus clapped in excitement, “So you’ll help me?”

“What type of cad do you take me for?” Roman scoffed, throwing the note down onto the table. “Of course I will.”

Shaking his hands, Remus just about squealed in delight, his smile widening. “The journey will be perilous, brother.”

“Oh please, it will be easy,” Roman scoffed. “It’s true love, and they are already smitten. Half of our job is done for us.”

It was, in fact, not easy. It was easy for the two princes to get back to their homes. But when they met back up at the border of the Dark Woods a couple weeks later, Roman challenged Remus to come out and fight him. The royal prince had to fight several goblins before Remus showed up, mace in hand and swinging it around wildly like a maniac. He managed to hit three goblins, who didn’t scramble away fast enough, in the face before he made contact with Roman’s shield.

Buzzing around Roman was a bright blue hummingbird, a little puffball of feathers and magic. She was fluttering around the royal prince, magic coming off her wings like glitter.

During the twin’s duel for honor and a bit of fun, a flash of shadow flew across as a large bat flew towards him and hit the hummingbird out of the air.

“You fiend!” Roman spat as the hummingbird seemed to glow and in an explosion of feathers a woman appeared in a billowing blue and white dress, the little jewel beads of the dress glittering and sparkling in the light. For a second or two she looked like she was covered in soft down before having more human light tan skin.

“That was a cheap shot,” Althea the fairy godmother reminded tersely as the Dragon Witch turned from a bat to a bony witch in a very dark red dress, her skin an ivory ash color.

“Please it’s almost like you wanted to get hit,” the Dragon Witch reminded. “Besides you two were gaining up on my sweet Remus.”

Althea swept her hair back, which frustrated the Dragon Witch because even in a fight it always looked flowing and fluffy.

“Give up,” the Dragon Witch smiled. “These woods are ours.”

“Never!” Althea shouted. “Your reign of terror is over.”

Lights and magic flew across the battlefield. In the end Remus and Roman had tied again as the Dragon Witch was thrown back by a gust of wind.

“Meddling child,” the Dragon Witch spat.

“Surly, caustic witch,” Althea snapped back. “Be gone and go back to your unhallowed woods. We are victorious.”

“I clearly won,” the Dragon Witch smiled smugly.

Althea made a little angry pout, crossing her arms in a huff, “You’ve done no such thing. Even if you two did win, it would only be because you both cheated.”

The Dragon Witch had some big gloating tirade of sarcastic insults, but seeing her little pout where she puffed out her cheeks a bit and looked like she was sticking her tongue to the inside of her cheek and . . . she . . . what was she going to say again? Something about her cute face? No, Althea would just make fun of her for that.

“Yeah? Well you . . .” The Dragon Witch tried not to look absolutely flustered. “. . . you’re just a poor sport.”

Althea looked angrier while the Dragon Witch was just internally screaming. Poor sport? Who says that? What are you five? Did you just get kicked out of the academy?

Remus was standing behind them, a huge toothy grin on his face that made the Dragon Witch want to have his face dragged in the mud or put worms in his stew.

Glancing at her student again she saw that both he and Roman had stopped fighting and the two of them were just watching the two mages arguing. The whole thing smacked of a trick of some kind and right now the Dragon Witch couldn’t figure out what type of trap that meant.

So she appreciated whatever the hustle was, even though she doubted that Remus had turned on her. He would be up front about it, and predictably violent.

He was a good kid so . . .

She looked over at Roman who seemed to be just as excited as Remus was, except he was staring at Althea . . .

“Wait a second,” the Dragon Witch realized.

“I will not be waiting any seconds,” Althea refused, not understanding.

The Dark Woods mage immediately remembered that the good witch had been talking to her and she had been ignoring her. But one look at her face reminded the witch why she had a crush in the first place.

“Yes or no?” Althea ordered, pointing at her?

“Uh,” the Dragon Witch stalled, staring at her, “no?”

Althea’s face got a bit fuzzy with her anger, the feathers around her face was almost a pinking color.

She looks so adora— no, don’t she’ll just turn you down.

“I can’t believe this, you’re so frustrating,” Althea huffed out. She stomped her feet a bit and grabbed Roman, “We’re leaving.”

“But you didn’t . . .  I mean, justice,” Roman sputtered as he was dragged towards a carriage that had been hiding up the road to stay out of the fight.

“Don’t say a word,” the Dragon Witch ordered Remus as they watched them walk away.

“Why Maggie?” Remus smiled, setting his hands and chin on the hilt of his mace.

“If you don’t, I’ll use your tongue for a gibberish concoction,” she threatened.

“Awwww,” Remus’s grin was particularly sharkish. “Someone’s just being a poor sport.”

The Dragon Witch whipped her staff around and lightly cuffed him on the back of the head.

Inside Roman’s carriage, the royal prince was just listening to his fairy godmother rant at him.

Althea was sitting with her face buried in her hands, her face red as a tomato. “That woman is so infuriating! Ugh, what kind of game is she playing?”

“Who knows with them?” Roman shrugged.

“Maybe if she wasn’t so cute, I’d know what to say,” Althea accidentally said out loud.

She blushed even harder with embarrassment and looked up at Roman. “Uh, I mean—”

Roman stared at her for a second before pulling apart the divider behind them and turning to yell, “Cam! Turn this cart around, we got a date to catch!”

“Roman!” Althea yelled, her face getting even redder. “She’s the queen of the Dark Woods!”

“And the Dark Woods is about to get themselves another fabulous queen,” Roman proclaimed.

The cart had stopped, the driver turned around in his seat to verify, “Are you sure you want to go back to the Dark Woods, Sir?”

“Oh yeah,” Roman smiled. “I know we’re only three minutes out. We could walk there. Oh, and you and Quil are about to cough up five pounds a piece.”

“Roman!” Althea shrieked as the carriage began to move back towards the haunted woods.

“It’s true love, my darlingest mentor,” Roman insisted, “and I have it on good authority that she thinks you’re good looking.”

Althea got even redder, “Who told you that?”

“Well Remus was cruder but I understood the intent,” Roman answered.

“He could be lying,” Althea accused.

“Please, my brother is the worst liar in all the kingdoms,” Roman defended, almost offended for the brother he fought on a regular basis’s honor. “He’s crude, rude, and violent, but he is no liar.”

“She really likes me?” Althea asked.

“How could she not?” Roman demanded. “Now, we have true love to prepare for my dear.”

“Let’s just start at a first date, Roman,” Althea insisted. “It’s a little soon for anything like that.”

“You’ll see,” Roman smiled, looking out the window. “She’s over the moon for you.”

Eventually the carriage stopped because Remus was standing in the middle of the road with the Dragon Witch next to him.

Roman opened a top hatch in the carriage, “Ahh, good, we were just about to go and find you two again.”

“I’d like your men to stop accosting my woods,” the Dragon Witch spat.

“When you get your marauding bandits to stop attacking my people,” Roman bargained.

“How about when you pay my woods back for generations of war crimes?” The Dragon Witch’s eyebrow shot up.

“We shouldn’t have to defend ourselves from being set on fire,” Roman reminded. “I’d be happy to start calling off the war if we could trust you won’t pick up arms against us the moment we have our backs turned.”

“Ugh!” Remus complained. “We’re not here to talk about politics! We’re here to talk about two lovely ladies getting freaky!”

“Ah, thank you Remus,” Roman clapped his hands, smiling. “Thank you, for once, for getting us back on topic.”

Roman waved his hands and when his hand came back up Althea in her hummingbird form was perched on two of his fingers. The royal prince exited the carriage with her, clearing her throat. “Queen Dragon Witch of the Dark Woods, I present to you the Good Witch of the Sanders Kingdom. She is as intelligent as she is brave and you shall be permitted to court her on the grounds that you vow to honor and cherish her, to treat her as the lady she is.”

“That’s it?” The Dragon Witch asked, clearly braced for more.

“Yeah, she has to vow the same,” Remus cut in.

“Naturally, my mentor is no brute,” Roman agreed.

“No I meant is he going to demand anything else of me,” the Dragon Witch told Remus.

Roman briefly ran over his speech in his head and ducked back in to grab the paper he had rehearsed with, reading back over it, “honor and cherish . . . no I got everything.”

“No land, no unfavorable terms?” The Dragon Witch seemed surprised and astonished.

The royal prince made an offended gasp, “My great-great grandfather’s petty squabbles have no bearing when love is on the table. Naturally if any deals for land and power are to be carried out, our courts should both be here for that.”

The Dragon Witch just stared at Roman for a bit before smiling, “You know, you’re a spoiled rich human brat, but I think you’ll actually make a good king one day.”

“Thanks?” Roman wasn’t sure if he’d been insulted or not. “I think?”

The Dragon Witch held out her hand and Althea transformed back, looking a little bit nervous. “You really are the most beautiful fairy in the lands,” the Dragon Witch told her.

Althea was just staring at her, “You are too.”

The twin brothers were standing close to the carriage and Roman’s driver, the three of them just watching the two of them talking.

“Janny owes me big for this,” Remus was almost cackling.

“Are you making deals with that snake?” Roman critiqued.

“How about you get off my ass and let me live my life?” Remus glared at him. “Besides his mother is happy, what could be better than that?”

“You do have to admit,” Cam said to Roman from his seat above them, “they do look happy.”

“Yeah,” Roman sighed, acquiescing on that front.

The two witches talked for a bit before they inevitably had to part ways. They would meet again on the battlefield, but next time it would be a not-so-quiet show of magic, designed to impress rather than harm.

[high-functioning-lokipath]

Star Trek x Sherlock - Sherlock, John, Spock, & Leonard - Prompt: You should meet my friend he's more irritating than yours - Words: 1,006

"Where the Sam Hill am I?" A grumpy voice yelled. 

"221B Baker St. London, England. More precisely, on my couch. I would be most pleased if you would explain your presence."

"And just who are you, Mr. High-and-mighty?"

"The name is Sherlock Holmes. Yours?"

"Dr. Leonard McCoy."

"Doctor?" Sherlock replied surprised. 

"Sherlock! You'll never believe this but I think I found your twin!" John yelled walking into the flat. "I was at the market getting our groceries when I heard screaming from out front. Turns out a man had passed out on the street. When I brought him around he acted just like you!"

"Dr. Watson, saying I am Mr. Holmes' twin is a gross exaggeration. I do not look like him nor did we have the same mother and father. And we most certainly did not come from the same pregnancy or were born at the identical time. As I explained to you, I'm from the year 2317 and this is most obviously the year 2017."

"Of course. I get beamed down to what is apparently Earth 2017 and I have to be put down here with Spock. What did I do to deserve this?" McCoy sighed.

"The idea of fate is illogical, Dr. McCoy," Spock and Sherlock replied in unison. 

"Help me!" Dr. McCoy begged, staring at John. 

"You should meet my friend. He's more irritating than yours," John said laughing.

"I already met Sherlock briefly. And don't bet on it." They both laughed, Sherlock and Spock looking on curiously. John suggested the two of them go upstairs and compare notes on their respective sociopaths while the sociopaths complain about humans. 

"What are you doing?" Spock asked Sherlock once the Doctors were upstairs. Sherlock was sitting in his chair, legs crossed, hands together, staring at Spock. 

"Deducing you. Obvious really."

"And what do you deduce about me, Mr. Holmes?"

"You're not human, you're actually half human. You feel most humans are completely illogical, which, by the way, is correct, but you do have a few close friends who you consider at least mostly intelligent. One of which is the good doctor upstairs. You pretend to not get along but your constant disagreements are actually the two of you bouncing ideas of each other. It's your form of friendship. You appreciate your high-ranking command-type status but prefer to assist rather than take over. You also have an odd affection for cats." Spock's ears tinted green at the last statement. "Don't be embarrassed, I love hedgehogs for some unknown reason."

"How did you know that?" Spock replied, genuinely surprised. 

"Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains," Sherlock began.

"No matter how improbable, must be the truth," They finished together.

"Of course you knew that line," Sherlock said with a smirk. "Every time I say it John calls me Spock. Now it makes sense!"

"You know me? How could you? My mother often spoke of a genius detective, an ancestor of mine, who said that quite frequently. She had books about him and I read them frequently as a child. They were the only recreational Earth writings that interested me but they were hundreds of years old!"

"That is impossible! You and your Doctor are characters from a very popular television show and movie series! You're not supposed to be real!" Both men were becoming quite frustrated, not per se with each other though. The whole situation was not logical and therefore they couldn't make sense of it. 

"Multi-verse paradox," the two Doctors announced from the stairs. 

"We were discussing the same topic," John explained. "And realized not only did we come from different times but also different universes." 

"Our ship must have hit a temporal anomaly that sent you and I down here," McCoy said. 

"That would explain everything quite logically, Doctor, but I have one question," Spock replied. "How could we have known of each other if we're from such different times?"

"Only one explanation," Sherlock interrupted. "If this line of reasoning is correct, then there must be someone out there who can travel from one universe to another, picking any time they want to be in, that set up this line of events."

"Fascinating," Spock commented, raising one eyebrow.

"Khan!" McCoy suddenly yelled.

"Where?" Spock questioned, pulling out his phaser.

"No! He's not here, you pointy-eared hobgoblin!" John laughed and Sherlock stifled a snort. "I mean that I just figured out who Sherlock looks like!"

"Interesting," Spock replied, lowering his phaser but not putting it away. "You do have a remarkable resemblance to him."

"And just who is this Khan?"

"Oh my goodness, Sherlock! I never realized it but he's right! You look just like him!"

"John, will you please explain who I'm supposed to look like? Who's Khan? You know I don't like being in the dark."

"Khan was our greatest enemy a few years ago. He was a great man once, but he turned and tried to destroy us all. You, unfortunately, look just like him. I'll have to bring you back to the Enterprise with us and let the Captain talk with you."

"Spock! How can you do that? He's your own flesh and blood!" McCoy yelled. 

"Are you sure of that Doctor? Or is this simply a clever illusion. A fake, a magic trick, as you would say?"

"No!" John yelled angrily. "You can't say that!" He was about to jump in and physically defend Sherlock when they heard a loud knock at the door.

"Doct-Leonard, please answer that," Spock said calmly. McCoy nodded and opened the door.

"Can I help you?" He asked the two young ladies on the other side. 

"Yeah, we're here to straighten things out," the shorter girl with glasses said walking in. 

"We may have inadvertently caused panic, which we apologise for," the taller, shorter-haired one added. 

"Yep, we forgot to factor in actors."

"That explains it."

"Ok everyone, sit down and let us explain to you who actors are in the multi-verse." The four men all sit down on the sofa, each staring at the girls with their own versions of 'what-the-devil' written on their faces. "Oh, by the way, we're your time travelers. I'm Amethyst and this is Sapphire. Now, let's get started."

[wielderofmysteries]

Jace Beleren, Masculinity, and the Trans Experience

(This post is a Twitter thread I wrote in response to a Goblin Lore podcast episode called “Jace Beleren and Toxic Masculinity”.)

I feel I have a unique perspective on this topic as a trans man. Trans man Jace isn't my headcanon, but it's an interpretation I love. He's my favorite character of all time, and as a trans man, I feel like reading Jace's flaws as toxic masculinity isn't quite right.

There are several "pillars" of toxic masculinity that Jace doesn't have. He doesn't have the self-destructive emotional repression, worship of sex and violence, or desire to subjugate women and his peers that men who experience toxic masculinity have.

Even BEFORE Ixalan, Jace was an example of many positive masculine traits. He was curious and emotionally open. He wrongly believed he could make decisions for others, but he cared for people, wanted to protect them, and couldn't sit idly by when he knew people were in danger.

In Agents of Artifice, he financially provided for Kallist and Liliana, and in Magic Story invited the Gatewatch to live in his home. Jace wanted to heal Garruk, tried to stop his rampage and had a Hedron implanted in Garruk's shoulder to relieve the effects of the curse.

"I don't want to hurt you, Garruk."

"Lucky for me, I don't feel the same way."

"Garruk, this is not a fair fight. You've suffered enough. Please. Come with me."

[...]

Jace stood in thought. Garruk held him by the throat, could end his life in an eye blink, had already proven he was immune to Jace's illusions. Garruk laughed again. If Garruk was open to having friends, then Jace might have been a good one.

"You win," said Jace. "We will leave you alone. I will not seek you out. But please, if you change your mind, come find us on Ravnica. Something is still not right here. We can help you."

In "Revelation at the Eye" Jace tells Ugin that Zendikar isn't a puzzle to be solved, and that it didn't matter if killing the Eldrazi has consequences, there are real people on Zendikar fighting for their lives and he needs to help them.

"Zendikar isn't a puzzle to be solved," said Jace. "It's a place. It's somebody's home. And those people are out there, right now, fighting for their world and wondering if anybody's going to help them kill what's killing them."

He showed scenes of suffering, then—of families mourning the lost, of landscapes ravaged by Ulamog, of even the skies and seas teeming with the Eldrazi menace.

Ugin cocked his head. The hedron architecture of the chamber seemed to melt and flow, became a pattern of tessellating dragons mocking him from the walls.

"So certain," said Ugin, "and so young."

Ral Zarek tried to kill Jace and ruined his relationship with his close friend Emmara, but in "Project Lightning Bug", Jace forgives him. Jace is honest about his feelings with Ral even after Ral was openly rude to him.

"I don't remember home," Beleren said quietly, unbidden.

"What?"

"You talked about growing up in Ravnica. A lot of my memories from my childhood are gone. Chopped up in my head into a few impressions. Most of what I remember begins here, on Ravnica. I'll never have roots here the way you do, and I admit I'm off to other planes a lot. But I think of myself as Ravnican to the core, too."

In Kaladesh block he wanted Chandra to be able to confide in him, and didn't want to stay home when he heard she could be in trouble. He used his mind magic to help Nissa sleep when she had a sensory overload in the busy city.

Nissa looked up. Jace and Gideon were exchanging a look. Both glanced at her.

They stood as one.

Jace turned toward the coat room. "I'll head to Kaladesh. It should be easy for me to—"

Lavinia appeared in his path, one hand resting on the pommel her sword. "Again?" she said, in a weary, disappointed tone.

He frowned up at her. "You can't expect me to sit here and do paperwork!"

Across the streets, beyond the barricades, the Consulate's panharmonicons are still blaring "The Gremlin's Wedding March" at us on infinite repeat at double speed. They left them on all night, and after the moon set Nissa started crying, hands clamped over her ears.

[...]

Jace sat down with her. They talked a minute and his eyes flashed. She curled up in a big potted plant and didn't wake up until the sun fell on her.

But what does being a man mean to Jace Beleren? Well, take a look at his feelings towards Gideon. Jace saw Gideon as the male ideal. I think Jace admires (and is envious of) the way Gideon is a representation of positive masculinity.

Eyes widened, jaws set. They understood their task, he was certain of that. But were they actually prepared to perform it?

What would Gideon say?

Jace smiled. Of course.

"For Zendikar," he said, raising one fist in the air. It felt thin to him, lacking Gideon's armored fist, his baritone war cry, his iron conviction.

None of that mattered. The soldiers shouted as one voice, holding their weapons aloft.

"For Zendikar!"

Gideon is not violent or hypersexual. He's kind, not afraid to ask for help, a defender rather than an aggressor. The pillars of toxic masculinity are absent in both Jace and Gideon. So why does Gideon's mere presence make Jace insecure? I think that insecurity is dysphoria.

I'm only 5 feet tall. People treat me like a kid, think I need help, and certainly don't see me as a man because I'm very small. It feels bad knowing my looks don't inspire others or make them feel safe like big tall guys can.

Gideon is super tall, muscular, conventionally attractive. He's charismatic and a natural leader. Gideon's like a human lighthouse. Jace is average height, out-of-shape, often pale and sickly, and his telepathy makes people automatically distrust him.

It's easy to see why people follow Gideon's lead so easily rather than Jace's. As a trans man, I personally related to Jace's insecurity. He feels inadequate compared to Gideon.

"I'd rather stand," said Gideon.

Jace stood up. It was an error. He still had to crane his neck to look Gideon in the eye, and now the size difference between them was glaringly obvious. He hated feeling small. Hated it.

Jace wanting to lead the Gatewatch didn't come from a desire to dominate others and be an ~alpha male~, but from a desire for people to believe in him. What Jace really wants is to prove to himself and others that he's competent and that he can be trusted.

This vision appeared whenever the man was struggling at a task.

[...]

"Listen, you aren't really suited to this task. Let me handle it." The vision's voice was gruff but friendly.

It came off as condescending.

The man was annoyed.

"I can do it myself."

The hallucination sighed. "You and I both know you're not suited to this. Let me handle it, you go philosophize on the other end of the beach."

"I said I can do it myself." The man let his irritation reach his voice.

"No, you can't. I call the shots and execute, you stand to the side. That's how this works."

The man responded by throwing his hook at the hallucination. It went straight through the figure's eye and landed behind him on the sand.

The time he spends with Vraska is so good for him! I loved that [the podcasts hosts] talked about how he was finally happy to follow someone else's lead! He didn't need to be a leader, he needed someone to trust him. She respected and loved him and thought he was incredible for who he is.

Vraska looked him in the eye. "You're incredible. You know that, right?"

Jace returned her smile and felt his cheeks warming. "I do my best."

"Well, your best is incredible," Vraska said, turning toward the central tower and approaching a large gate on what appeared to be its back side.

Liliana never told Jace he was incredible.

Liliana would have scoffed. She would have made a dismissive joke, rolled her eyes, and called him a show-off. She would not bother to talk to him for days. She would consume the body of a demon with a crocodile's jaws and laugh over the sound of its flesh tearing off. She would do all sorts of things, but she would never call him incredible.

It was important for Jace to get that validation. Now he's not insecure about his appearance. It's not that he finally developed into someone who was caring. He was caring all along, but he was held back by insecurity about how others perceive him. He learned to love himself.

Despite all his good qualities and deeds he still felt insecure because it wasn't easy to visually see him as a "strong man". I think it's important to acknowledge positive masculinity even when the man in question isn't attractive or charismatic, and even if he makes mistakes.

As a trans person, Jace's experience reminded me of the struggle to "pass". It's frightening how easily insecurity can turn into toxic masculinity when you feel different from "real men". If you don't look the part, some people will just never acknowledge you.

Next to 'perfect' guys like Gideon, it's easy to see our own perceived weaknesses and shortcomings. Easy to feel resentment for it. But from this struggle comes the strive to be better men, to be confident in ourselves, and comfortable in our bodies.

There's SO much I wanted to talk about, like how Jace's trauma shaped his need for control, how the IRL gamer guys he was created to represent actually hate him, how he's a male victim of abuse by a female partner, etc but this thread is already terribly long.

TLDR; I think toxic masculinity as a reading of Jace is missing some perspective. The trans perspective. Not all insecurity men experience is toxic masculinity. Sorry I totally should have waited until part 2 was out, but I couldn't stop thinking about that episode.

There's a lack of trans men's voices in... basically everything, and this is something I think we should definitely be included in. I'm so grateful for the Vorthos community opening these kinds of discussions. Super excited for part 2 of the podcast!

[ghostietoasty]

Why Sherlock Holmes FGO is Sus: Theories and More

Before I begin, I’d like to give thanks to my wonderful friend for all the points, art, and info searching that have been made to produce this piece, I can’t appreciate you enough for the effort you put in. 🥺🙏💕

Alright now on to it!

INTRODUCTION: Humble Beginnings (Identification of the Abnormal)

If you’ve played the app Fate/Grand Order for a while you’d know about the Heroic Spirit we first encounter in a hole within Camelot’s dessert whilst going to the Atlas Institute. Smart, handsome looking, and sharp enough to discern our True Name, this man of mystery has been seen as an oddball by many long time players of the game. There are many aspects about him that raise doubt about his credibility, is he truly what he wants us to think he is? That servant is Sherlock Holmes (Ruler) and there are many theories about him having some secrets, about him either being a Foreigner class, Beast class, or something else entirely. We are attempting to catalogue all this information in one place for maximum clarity.

SECTION 1: Other Character’s Reaction (First Impression is the Best Impression) *WARNING LOSTBELT 1 AND 2 SPOILERS AHEAD*

From the first encounter in Camelot right until the end of Lostbelt 2, there are many instances of characters reacting to his presence in….interesting ways.

Bedivere, when first coming in contact with Holmes in Camelot says that "I suppose I've never really been good with people like him. He reminds me of Merlin."

It could refer to the mysterious manner in which both Holmes and Merlin conduct themselves, but better to keep in mind that Merlin is a Grand Caster, and that he manifests as a servant due to specific circumstances (he is not dead).

In Camelot, Mash assumes that Holmes must be Caster class and that the original novels by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle must have been biographies penned by Dr. Watson under a pen name. Holmes corrects her, saying that: "My true identity, my essence, is slightly different from what you may think. And sad, but that is not the purpose of our gathering here today."

This dilemma is also present in the Sherlock Holmes Trial Quest (which mostly tackles the debate of whether he's a fictional character or someone who actually existed). Holmes has a line where he says:

"Ah, yes. I mentioned I was a Caster. Forgive me, I lied."

This is however immediately followed up by:

"A jest. My apologies. I couldn't help myself." 

This sort of backpedalling raises a doubt as to whether he was really Caster class before, so the nature of his former class is still a mystery. He later mentions that his Ruler class is the World telling him that not all illusions and dreams need to be laid bare.

When meeting with Salieri in Lostbelt 1, Holmes introduces himself as such:"I'm Sherlock Holmes, Chaldea's administrative advisor. I became a servant through unusual means, just like you."

Salieri was only summonable as a servant  because of his reputation caused by the fact that he killed Mozart. He is under the effect of Innocent Monster. It can also be said that Salieri is a lostbelt servant and is significantly more sane than he would have been in a normal summoning, that was the unusual summoning that Holmes was refering to. Does this mean Holmes is not from Proper Human History? 

Sigurd (who's under the control of Surtur), while attacking us in Lostbelt 2 says this: "So, a human and two Heroic Spirits. No, wait. Neither of you are pure Heroic Spirits, are you? You've both got something else mixed in. Hehe, hybrids then. Interesting" 

This is in reference to Holmes and Mash, who are alongside the master at this moment. Mash is a demiservant (human+servant) hence the "Hybrid" comment makes sense, but Holmes? What is the "something else" mixed in with Holmes?

Later in LB2, Holmes requests the assistance of Scáthach-Skadi in beating Surtur. Skadi says that normally she would never pay mind to what a mere Heroic Spirit had to say but: "...but in your particular case…I sense wisdom in those beautiful eyes. You remind me of Baldr, god of light." Quite a bit later, she also has this to say:"Perhaps those piercing eyes of yours in fact surpass Odin's? Mystic Eyes, perchance? ….No, that's not it. They merely reflect your wisdom born of human history's cumulative accomplishments."

She says that's not it, but the fact that it was the first thing she thought of shouldn't be ignored. 

Baldr is the god of light. Holmes' attacks consist of beams of light, and his cane lights up when he's using it in battle.

In Norse legends, Odin is said to have sacrificed one eye to the spring of Mimir in order to get ancient wisdom, the ability to perceive everything in the world. 

SECTION 1.5: More Reactions (From JP Only)

Since it is JP only and there is no official translation for NA yet, this information cannot be 100% confirmed in any way. (Most of this is from Reddit translation done by fans). But as these are also important, it's best to put this information separate section.

Moriarty's interlude involves him finding a micro-singularity in London. At some point the transmission between Chaldea and the master gets cut and Moriarty reveals he created this scenario, made the singularity and everything to get one on one time with the master. He tells us not to trust Holmes. When the time comes, we as master should choose Moriarty over Holmes. 

It has to be kept in mind that Moriarty is not a good guy, he is a character created entirely to oppose Holmes so it is natural that he doesn't trust him. For all we know, it is just emotional manipulation. 

Moriarty's very nature is tied to being the antithesis of Holmes. Holmes might theoretically go against us for the sake of humanity while also trying to keep us safe (the master is in a way, a Watson replacement to him after all) while Moriarty would gladly let humanity burn for the sake of us but also for the sake of being completely opposite to Holmes and keeping his identity as such.

However he does raise valid points, how was Holmes able to rayshift? This part was never explained, and he also mentions that his hypothesis has a fatal contradiction in the fact that Holmes risked his life to save ours. What can be inferred from this is that Holmes is a good man and is on our side, but there is something very weird about him that should not be ignored.

In Lostselt 5 it is mentioned at one point that Zeus called Holmes dangerous, he mustn't look at Zeus or the other gods and that his eyes are enemies of the world.

It has to be mentioned that this is some heavy emphasis on Holmes' eyes (Skadi mentioned Holmes' eyes twice, and she was a god as well). Is it because of the nature of Holmes that he is the one that reveals all truth? Is that in some way detrimental to gods, magic and the world in general?

Recently, from Holmes' skill upgrade interlude there was a section about Holmes saying that he is always an ally of justice and that while he may be on our side, he is still capable of evil but it doesn't change the fact that he is our ally. Even then it seems he has some secrets that can't be understood by himself.

By now with the presence of Dr. Jekyll and Helena and their recounts on what happened, it is confirmed that Holmes was actually "alive"(?)

Some of the adventures penned by Dr. Watson were actually censored versions of the original happenings, which were magical in nature.

Holmes was traumatised(?) by Helena's death back when they were both alive. He swears he would never let that happen again. (remember what happened in lostbelt 2…)

It seems that Holmes himself is not fully sure of what is secret about him. Since he utterly dislikes talking about something without being 100% sure about it (this tendency of his has gotten us in trouble before) plus his general secretive nature, it can be said that this is why he wouldn't talk about that.

SECTION 2: Weird Things That Holmes Does (And Other Questions)

Heroic Spirits are anything but normal, but there are few servants who break the norm even further, and Holmes is one of them.

Holmes is able to Rayshift (presumably) from London, to Camelot, and then to Shinjuku. There are very few servants who are able to manifest themselves. 

Musashi also appears here and there, but it's not a deliberate choice on her part. She is not able to predetermine her next destination. 

Arthur travels from a parallel world to this world, but this is due to "chasing after a certain powerful antagonist, evil omen" - so he tells.

Beast class has the skill of Independent Manifestation which would allow the servant to manifest anywhere they'd want. Merlin, Tamamo Vitch and Shiki possess it. However, it has to be noted that Holmes' rayshifts have a significant toll on his saint graph, as he is unable to fight or defend himself by the time we meet him in Camelot. While normal Independent Manifestation shouldn't lead to the depletion of the user's saint graph. Holmes' class is unknown at the time of his rayshifting. 

At the time of summoning, Heroic Spirits usually reveal their class and True Name (there also are exceptions to the rule). At the time of his summoning, Holmes doesn't reveal his Class: "Are introductions necessary? I am a detective. If you were expecting a hero, my apologies...But if you wanted a detective or an investigator, you drew the right card."

In the case of EOR Servants whose names haven't been found, they reveal their class.

Who summoned Holmes? The only thing we know regarding his presence was that it was first clearly there when he tampered with information in London.

Holmes' illustrator is Yamanaka Kotetsu, who was also the illustrator of the beasts Tiamat and Goetia

The artists who design and illustrate the characters tend to do it in groups of servants who are related to each other in some way (Pako with Arjuna and Karna Chacha and Nobunaga; Miwa Shiro with Brynhildr and Sigurd). It is strange that Kotetsu designed only Holmes, Tiamat and Goetia.

(NEW ADDITION) It should also be noted that as an illustrator Kotetsu has had previous works in a Lovecraftian Guidebook and is also the artist to the Alien God Preistess, somewhat showing how their work leans more to the outerworldly.

SECTION 3: The Design

It is a very commonly noticed fact that Holmes' coat in his third ascension has a very similar shape to that of the Foreigner card artwork.

The pattern work on the coattails of the foreigner art and the inside (blue) part of Holmes' coattails have a very similar, if not exactly same pattern running down the entire length of it. The sphere summoned in Holmes' Noble Phantasm also has the same pattern on its sides and front.

There is a "fog" around Holmes in his third ascension, which is reminescent of the smoke in the card art. (Also can be the London smog).

The glowing section of the abdomen of the being reminds one of the metallic corset that Holmes wears. 

There are 4 notches of smoke on either side of the being (total 8), under their cape. If we stretch our interpretation, then it could mean Holmes' arms and the metal arms that he has is also equal to 8.

In that tangent, the shape of the coat is also similar to that of Saver class Buddha, the fantasy trees from Lostbelt 3 and 4, and the Shadows made by the 6th imaginary element.

The Endless Knot / Shrivatsa symbol on his shoulders is one of the many references of his connection to Tibet (faking his death after the Final Problem). It is an important symbol in both Jainism and Buddhism.

Some of its interpretations include:

The eternal continuum of mind.

The union of wisdom and method.

Since the knot has no beginning or end it also symbolizes the wisdom of the Buddha

the endless cycle of suffering or birth, death and rebirth within Tibetan Buddhism.

The cane that Holmes wields has a pattern on its handle in the shape of a Prayer Wheel. 

However, we are not able to find the meaning behind the script on the cane. Both of us attempted to translate it but failed. If anyone can translate the meaning it would be greatly appreciated.

The holographic books in the base of the unidentified sphere have a pattern on their front that greatly resembles a lotus. 

In Holmes' third ascension, there are a number of magical circuits on his coat.

The circuits are almost only on his left side, with very few circuits on his right side. It's not like it was woven into it, were that the case the circuits would have been all over his coat in a more even distribution. It's almost like an impact radius.

The circuits are very similar to the ones visible on the title screen of the lostbelts, as well as the patterns seen on the fantasy trees.

CONCLUSION SECTION: Something's Up (It's Big Brain Time)

It's clear that something is very strange about Holmes, from his interactions to his design, it's clear that there is too much effort into throwing these hints that it's not just a red herring.

Is he a Foreigner? Beast? Counter Guardian? Some other unknown extra class? It cannot be said at the moment. Holmes' role as a revealer itself is dangerous to mystery and magic, so it can be anything.

 It is also not necessarily true that just because Holmes has all these abnormalities, that he will betray us, or is on the side of evil. When has there been a clear cut side of good or evil anyway? It can be argued that we are the villains in some way, as we bring about the end of these timelines to safeguard our own proper human history. 

Holmes has always been on the side of humanity and will continue to be, the question is what the reveal will be, why and how. That, only time and future chapters can answer, all we can do is speculate.

[ninjasmart]

What is Jack Schlossberg, President John Kennedy’s only grandson’s ikigai?

Ti

1. Ikigai is a concept coming from Japan that means - reason for being. Many people focus on the career, on the work, but don’t feel fulfilled. If you do what you love, what you’re good at, what others need you to do for them, what the world needs more of, what others are willing to pay for, then you’re on Your Path.

2. With Jack Schlossberg, the career is an obsession. I can see him exhausted trying to do everything. It is interesting, people who try to fulfill two different life paths usually have more than one name. With him - there’s overstacking on building the background for a political figure - the education, the charities. It’s like - we gave birth to you - now, go and become a president. 

At the same time - he’s really good at Blue Bloods. There’s future for Officer Jack in the industry. I’m thinking, should I really do a love reading on him. He’s so focused on what will make mom happy, the family proud of a Kennedy and what will make me happy, and I’ll do both, cause I’m ambitious. 

3. I’ll cut to the chase because his ikigai is the Moon. Literally the world of illusions. That’s equally as valid for the entertainment industry as for politics. His family need not worry and have faith in him.

It’s interesting, though, I keep getting the question - what do you need all those Diplomas for? He was raised as very responsible overachiever. The path he was put on is ambitious. The question is - is it his path. 

I think there is future for him on the big screen. If he thinks he needs to overachieve to prove he can do it and it’s not all because of who he is - he needs to remember to just say Thank you. That’s enough. Those who are envious will always find something to envy him for. Those who are not will see that he is fortunate to have access to the elite schools of the land and one can only be happy for him. Those who can those who have access to the elite also have the responsibility to make the world a better place including for those who can’t. 

Because, let me tell you, there are people who have access to the resources to which he has access to and do not do good on their responsibility to society. This guy, Jack Schlossberg, he’s solid. Not just responsible. Solid. Good things can be expected from him. And, if one day he ends up as a political satire comedian - he’ll revolutionize it. 

His service to the world is in the public eye - whether from a TV show, or a Netflix show, or a News anchor, or a late night comedy show, or from the Senate - he’ll be good at it. We need more people like him in the world. 

4. What’s his passion - 7 of cups reversed. He is not unclear what he is passionate about. He was born into prestige, respect, I’d say - American royalty, he is gorgeous. The 7 cups in the 7 of cups stand for - the temptation, the desires of the heart: health, wealth, fame, glory, castles, salvation. He was born into that. He makes good on his bloodline with his more serious pursuit. I would only add that the Blue Bloods and the acting is not whimsical pursuit. It is not less serious or less respectable. It is one aspect of what he’s good at - and that is: acting. Unlike our faux royal MM, he IS good at it. Keep on practicing, boy, the world needs you. 

5. What he loves - Well, if you leave him on his own accord, he’ll be , 8 of pentacles reversed. These are the employees every manager “loves” - who can find how to cheat the close and will put in only the minimum effort to not get fired but also to not be noticed by the managers with good performance. As business owners they’ll love to have their name under the CEO or Founder position but the long hours, blood sweat and tears will be optional for them. 

If you leave him to slack off he’ll do it and he’ll be really good at it. Two possible reasons for that. I really think he’s overly ambitious and an overachiever. That leads to what unsuccessful people will call “bite more than you could chew”. In hi case - he’ll do it, he’ll make it, he’ll succeed even if this makes him a slacker in one are or looking like a lazy person in some other area. He’s not lazy, he’s got way too much on his plate and he’s juggling it all. 

So, the first explanation is - it’s an exhaustion symptom. He’d love to just relax and do nothing because he is constantly achieving something and rarely takes time to really do nothing and recharge his batteries. 

The second one is - he was raised to not be a slacker. So he’d love to be like the regular Jacks but that’s not who he is and he knows it. 

6. What the world needs  - the high priestess. Divine Feminine. Champion of human, feminine rights. And, please get me right - a champion of the Divine Feminine is a man who defends, makes a woman safe, help her, treats her right. A gentleman in the true sense of the word. 

The high priestess is one of my favorite cards. I would also interpret it as - finish your degree, do not drop out. It was cool, but now it is not. Be a man of your family and graduate. Then, go back to school for acting. Find your acting mentor - a woman, a woman of considerable age. I think she’s very well known teacher. Learn from her. She has a lot to offer. 

Perfect your acting skills because you’ll make good use of them in the future.

7. What is he going to be paid for - In ikigai this is what is important part of getting out of bed in the morning. Not only to give to others more than you receive back in monetary value but to also receive that monetary value. 

10 of wands is a beautiful advice card here. He needs to form partnerships and always, always delegate and be clear on roles and responsibilities and to share the workload. He doesn’t have to do it all on his own. In order for him to be better in achievements, he needs to learn to find the right people to delegate the workload to. That will not make him less of a workaholic. But it will carve some time for mindfulness, focus and strategic thinking. 

He’s already studying for that so thumbs up, he chose well. 

8. What is he good at - 2 of wands. Money. He’s good at handling money, making money, creating multiple streams of income. If he wants to write a book - his mindset and management of personal finances will be a bestseller.

9. His mission in life - 4 of swords reversed. I already talked about it. If he thought that he’s one of those rich kids of legends, who are supposed to make good to their ancestors but will never come out of their famous relative’s shadow whether they make use of the privileges in life or not --- that’s not his path. 

He is not supposed to life a private life outside of the eyes of the media. ... some of the download got lost because I was distracted for a moment... Whe nthe time comes his ancestry will play a deciding factor. Until then - be in the public eye as much as possible. Rack up those fans and followers. The world needs you - you, not who you thought you are or who you were told you should be.

10. His vocation - 5 of pentacles. It’s a hard card to read. If I could make a guess - it can show his current situation at his environment - work, school, professional sphere. He’s meeting with a lot of isolation - you’re not like us, you’re from the royalty. If I was to guess, he’s experiencing it in a lot of areas - things handed to him because of his last name, or things not given to him again because of his last name. 

I think that this is the reason he is so determined to show them all, to achieve it all, to be successful no matter what... you know the saying - when life gives you lemons, make a lemonade... and then sell it for profit. 

This type of attitude towards him comes with the territory. It is part of who he is and this is where the acting skills can help even more to show him as relatable. And also, we are not given a challenge unless this is what defines us and makes us not stronger but makes us ...words are escaping when I come to explaining this. My guess is that he needs to figure it out on his own. 

However, those challenges are what he came here to achieve in solving. He can become very relatable. Very, very relatable. If he could only see those challenging situations as an invitation to turn these people as his fans instead of enemies or frenemies or people who secretly dislike him or envy him, he’ll be performing his calling to a T. Later on in life he’ll be a role model. Might as well start now.

11. His profession - the Fool. The Fool as profession is an interesting card. First, he need to embody the qualities of the Fool card. To make it seem that what he has been achieving is easy,  leisurely, effortlessly, and that anyone can achieve it. 

He’s ok to continue to be ambitious. Signing new acting contracts, following double major after double major on the side. As advice - do not be afraid to start over or start new things constantly. This is who you are. Make it seem effortless and secretly work really hard to make it happen. 

[duhragonball]

Battle Tendency Liveblog: JJBA Ch. 77-82

Here’s a nice map that explains the current plot situation.   Lisa Lisa resides on “Air Suplena Island”, an ancient Ripple Clan training facility off the coast of Venice.   Apparently there’s a second, smaller island for fighting.   The boys were supposed to have their final tests here by fighting their instructors-- Joseph vs. Loggins and Caesar vs. Messina.   But...

Esidisi showed up first and killed Loggins just as Joseph arrived for his test.  Esidisi seems to have found some clue that the Red Stone of Aja is here, although for some reason he checked this “adjacent island” first instead of the main one.   Anyway, Joseph shows up and quickly puts it all together. 

This particular moment gets crapped on a bit in the fandom, because Joseph observes that Loggins’ lungs were ripped out, and the lungs are vital for Hamon users, but they’re kind of vital for anybody, so it feels like a silly thing for Joseph to say out loud.   I think the real point he’s trying to make here is that Esidisi killed Loggins with a single kick.   As formidable as Loggins is, Esidisi knew exactly where to strike for a one-hit-kill.   Like, Santana wouldn’t have known to do that, because he’s never fought Ripple Clan guys before.   He might have gone for another vital area, not realizing that a skilled Hamon-weilder like Loggins could defend it as long as he could breathe.  

Anyway, the stakes just got raised for Joseph’s final test.  Beating Loggins was going to be a challenge in itself, but now Joseph will have to defeat the guy who killed Loggins in one blow.   But Joseph was going to have to fight Esidisi eventually anyway, so we might as well get it out of the way now.

But it’s JJBA, so no climactic battle would be complete without some absurd shots of buff dudes striding towards each other.   Well, the early parts more than the later ones.  

I’m not sure why there’s a pit full of spikes on this island, but I assume Loggins planned to fight Joseph here, since Joseph easily uses Hamon to walk on the spikes without getting hurt.   As for Esidisi, he just impales his feet on the spikes, because he can regenerate his body anyway. 

You know, actually, that seems like a really bad move on Esidisi’s part.   If these spikes are made of metal, and attached to a metal plate on the bottom, then Joseph could send his Ripple through the whole structure and zap Esidisi right now.   At least, I’m pretty sure Hamon conducts through metal.

I just looked it up, and apparently metal can’t store Hamon, but it will pass through metal, so I think that would be good enough for a trick like this to work.  Or maybe these are just stone spikes and they’re not interconnected.   Also, I finally found out that “Hamon” is just the Japanese word for “Ripple”, so that explains why the terms are used interchangeably. 

This fight is pretty awesome, but it’s tricky, so I’ll try to summarize the action as best I can.   Initially, Esidisi doesn’t even want to fight Joseph, because he’s only here to search for the Stone of Aja, and he doesn’t think Joseph has improved enough to bother wasting time on him.    But Joseph insists.   He wants to avenge Loggins, and he has to stop Eisidisi from proceeding to Air Suplena Island, and he wants the antidote to that poison ring in his throat.   

Esidisi is surprised when Joseph’s Ripple is strong enough to force his finger through Esidisi’s hand, but he still thinks he’s strong enough and fast enough to kill Joseph before he can channel more Hamon through his finger.   But that was just a diversion.    The whole time, Joseph had been unspooling a string, the other end of which was tied to the hand of Loggins’ corpse.  Joseph loops it around Eisidisi’s other arm, and it’s been soaked with vegetable oil, so it’s perfect for charging with Hamon.   

I guess he only tied the string to Loggins’ body to provide a weight on the other end while Joseph sprang his trap.   Anyway, he lops off Eisidisi’s forearm, and dedicates the attack to his dead teacher.   You know, I have to think Joseph had a lot of these tricks ready in advance.   I mean, he came here to fight Loggins, so maybe he figured a string soaked in vegetable oil would give him an advantage.   

Joseph expects Esidisi to be furious, but instead the dude starts bawling like a baby.   Joseph is confused and unnerved by this...

... and he’s even more unnerved when Esidisi regains his composure.  He explains that a good cry helps him balance his mood.    Earlier, Joseph mentioned Sun Tzu, so Esidisi tops him by suggesting that he knew Sun Tzu during his travels in China.   I’m not sure why Esidisi would have bothered meeting or reading Sun Tzu, though, since the Pillar Men have been so dismissive of “primitive” humans up to this point.   This is the most any of them have spoken to a human, so far, and it seems pretty clear by now that they only bother talking to Joseph because he’s proven himself to be a mildly worthy adversary.   Unless Sun Tzu had super powers, I’m not sure why Esidisi would bother remembering the guys name.    Then again, maybe Sun Tzu had super powers in the JoJo-verse.

Esidisi’s point is that Joseph only thinks that he won this battle before it began.  The missing hand isn’t even a setback, as Esidisi just hops over to Loggins’ corpse and grafts Loggins’ forearm onto his own.   Then he melts Loggin’s body just to show off his ability.   Back in Part 1, Dio could freeze things by altering his bodily fluids, but the Pillar Men have even greater control over their bodies.   Esidisi, for example, can heat his own blood to 600 degrees Celsius, hot enough to burn stuff.    I’m not sure why his blood doesn’t burn, but whatever.   He calls this his “mode”, and compares it to Wammu’s talent for manipulating air currents.   Perhaps appropriately, Joseph prepares his steel balls to use Clacker Volley.   So you can see how we’re getting closer and closer to the introduction of Stands in Part 3.

But Esidisi can do more than just burn things with his blood.   He can also extend blood vessels from his body, and shoot hot blood at his opponents.   And it looks like he’s got a clear shot at Joseph’s face...

Meanwhile, Caesar just finished his battle with Messina, who concedes defeat and gives Caesar a passing score.   Caesar immediately checks in on the other island to see how Joseph is doing, and Messina finds that odd.   A couple things here.   First, Caesar remarks how Joseph has a “heart of gold”, which I’m pretty sure is what Joseph himself said of Josuke and his friends at the end of Part 4, so that’s pretty neat.    Second, Messina compares Caesar’s friendship with Joseph to falling for a girl, so clearly Messina ships it.  

Anyway, Caesar discovers that Joseph is fighting a Pillar Man instead of Loggins, but they’re too far away for him to help.   Luckily, Eisidisi’s hot blood attack only hit Joseph’s breathing mask, so he doesn’t suffer serious injury.    But Eisidisi sprouts blood vessels from his back, too, basically trapping Joseph from all sides.   

Ah, but Joseph has been unraveling his wool hat the whole time, creating a trap within the trap.    This is where it gets kind of confusing.  

See, Esidisi’s whole deal here is that he seems to be one step ahead of Joseph, and he even rips off Joseph’s thing where he tells the other guy what he’s about to say next.  

All Esidisi has to do is cut the lines Joseph set up, and he won’t be able to conduct any Hamon through them.  Whoops.

Except, no!   Because... Huh?    Joseph talks about how magic tricks and illusions became popular in the 19th and 20th centuries, something Esidisi wouldn’t have known about, but Joseph is all into.    He didn’t just make one string through these spikes.  He did two, and wove them together in such a way that the second string would still be in tact even when the first was cut.    But he made sure that one of these strings would be at Esidisi’s back, so that when he cut the first he wouldn’t notice the second.  

Long story short: If you were wondering why Joseph’s Stand is Hermit Purple in Part 3, it’s because he used strings and ropes for almost everything in Part 2.  He wraps the remaining string around Esidisi, fires up his Ripple, and Esidisi has no choice but to take it head on. 

Unlike Santana, who simply turned into a stone-like material, Esidisi friggin explodes.  And this is why I doubt Santana survived for long after Part 2.  Now, Joseph’s Ripple is strong enough to destroy Santana quite easily, and we never saw that happen because by the end of this story killing Santana was probably a formality.    Anyway, Joseph finds Esidisi’s nose ring and drinks the antidote inside.

Only thing is, Esidisi isn’t dead.   His brain and nervous system survived that last attack, and somehow he snuck onto Joseph’s back.   On his way inside, Joseph runs into Suzie Q, Lisa Lisa’s... butler?   I’m not really sure.  Anyway, she’s never seen him without his mask on and they flirt a little before he goes to report to Lisa Lisa.  

But she’s taking a bath, and Joseph decides to check her out before he goes in.  I gotta say, this shot is way more tasteful than what they did in the anime version.  

I’m kind of rushing through this part, but it comes down to this, Esidisi jumped off Joseph’s back, then infiltrated Suzie Q’s body.  Controlling her like a puppet, he then found the Red Stone of Aja and gave it to the mailman.   Then he reveals himself to the others, and declares his intention to hold them off so that they can’t get the Stone back.   

I assume Esidisi isn’t powerful enough to put up much of a fight now, because his strategy mostly boils down to using Suzie Q as a hostage.   He’s willing to attack Joseph and the others and to injure Suzie Q’s body, but he knows they can’t kill him without using a Ripple so powerful that it would put too much strain on Suzie’s heart.  

Really, I’m not sure I understand that.   Hamon is fatal to vampires and Pillar Men, sure, and it can be used to hurt humans, but we’ve also seen it heal people too.   You’d think a concentrated Ripple would purge Esidisi from her body without harming her at all.   But then I guess we’d have no tension here, so whatever.   Joseph tries to call Esidisi’s bluff, but it doesn’t work.

Instead, Joseph reminds Caesar of the trick he used to get out of the Hell Climb Pillar, and they both attack Suzie Q at the same time.   Joseph sends repelling Hamon through her body, while Caesar sends attracting Hamon into her heart, and that somehow cancels it out so that she doesn’t die from this.   I’m not sure why the diagram needed nipples.  Well, I know why, but you know what I mean.

And that finishes off Esidisi.    His brain grabs hold of Joseph as it gets forced off of Suzie Q, but there’s nowhere to go from here.   They’re out in the sun, and everyone else in the room has Ripple powers, so what else can he do but succumb to death?   Caesar is disgusted by Esidisi’s underhanded tactics, but Joseph respects Esidisi for fighting so doggedly to support his comrades and their cause.   This stunt with Suzie Q was pretty shameful, but it was all Esidisi could do, so he went for it.  

I dunno, I’m with Caesar on this one.    Esidisi’s a pretty awesome villain, and I respect the heel heat of using an innocent woman as a hostage, but I can’t respect him in a “noble warrior” kind of way.    Rest in piss, Esidisi.   

[florbexter]

Blume, I think Thara is a chaotic king, but apart from that he's a bit too "perfect". I want Frong to see his vulnerable side or his dark side so they can be on more equal terms.

I think it’s true that, for now, we haven’t really seen a vulnerable or dark side of Thara beside him opening up about his father but it was, again, in the context of him comforting Frong. I thought long about what his dark side could be and I hope you like this little story ^.^

Darkness is just an illusion || [AO3 Link]

Thara felt the pulse of the man under his fingers, the nervous flutter, spiking, the rate faster and faster the more pressure Thara put on his neck. He was bigger than Thara, almost a head taller, but there was sweat on his temple and his eyes showed fear.

It was a paradox, Thara thought, or maybe not. Someone who put drugs in other people’s drinks was a coward, the scum under the scum, not someone who would stand his ground. He had tried to argue against Thara’s accusations but the little bottle they had found in his jacket and Bohn who had seen him putting the stuff into Boss’ drink wasn’t something he could go against.

Bohn was ready to go for blood and the way he had his hands around the man’s collar was threatening, the way he yelled into his face and it seemed weird, Thara thought, that he didn’t seem to realize that Thara had his hand around the man’s throat. A little more pressure there Thara thought and stared at his own fingers. A little more pressure and there would be unconsciousness. Easy as that. He knew exactly where to—

“P’?”  

Frong stood in the door that led to the corridor they were all assembled in, next to him a short woman with dyed red hair, it shone like a halo with the light behind her coming from the main room of the bar. She looked petit, but her eyes were fixated on the man against the wall and it was a mixture of murderous intent and tightly contained rage.

“P’?”, Frong said again and his eyes laid on Thara’s hand. Thara wasn’t sure why he didn’t immediately snatch his hand away. Maybe it was the voice in his head that wasn’t satisfied with the outcome of this. That this was his to deal with.

“Did they call the police?”, he asked, and the bar owner looked over to him briefly. Two men, giants, tall as well as broad appeared behind her.

“We are going to take care of him,” she said, and as Bohn wanted to argue Frong seemed to have enough of the situation and took both of them by their arms and dragged them with him.

“I wasn’t done with him!”, Bohn yelled and Frong let go of his arm to push him softly away.

“Boss is throwing up,” he said and nodded towards the gathering of their friends around Boss. His complexion was damp and ashy, he visibly shook and was bent over a bucket. It didn’t take more for Bohn to switch from angry to concerned and he quickly walked away.

Frong’s other hand was still around Thara’s wrist and it was the same hand he had had around the man’s throat and he stretched his fingers, startling Frong into looking down.

There was a frown between his eyebrows, but no disgust just concern, and Thara felt the need to say something. He didn’t even know what he would say. An apology, an explanation? But before he could open his mouth Frong looked up again and tugged him along.

“You should look after Boss. Duen has already called an ambulance.”

And just like that, a switch flipped inside Thara and he took over Boss’ care until the paramedics arrived.

At the hospital, he handed the little bottle over, so they would know what they were dealing with, and during all of it— During reassuring a distressed Mek that everything was going to be okay. During explaining to the ER doctors what happened. During the hours of waiting for the drugs to flush out of Boss’ system, during all of it Frong made sure to stay as close to Thara as possible. Whenever they stood or sat next to each other he touched him. He entwined their fingers, put his hand on Thara’s shoulder, pressed their thighs together or even just laid a warm hand on the small of Thara’s back.

Frong didn’t avoid touch. They had held hands or had greeted each other with a peck on the lips in public often enough that Thara knew he wasn’t against public display of affection, but this level of tactile contact was new. Not that Thara was complaining.

He just was confused.

Frong had seen him choking that guy, right?

They waited until they were told Boss was okay and that he would stay overnight. Bohn and Duen went first to pick up some clothes for Mek and Boss, followed by Ram and King, and when they climbed into a taxi Frong asked him softly: “Are you okay?”

And maybe he should have waited until they weren’t in a car together with a stranger but Frong’s calmness irked him.

“Not really,” he murmured and looked down when Frong intertwined their fingers on the middle seat. He didn’t retreat his hand.

It was grounding.

“Yeah… that was frightening what happened to Boss. It was luck that Bohn saw what happened.”

“Yes,” Thara confirmed slowly, “and…”

Was Frong being oblivious on purpose?

“You saw what I did, right? It wasn’t that dark in the hallway.”

Frong threw him a look and nodded. He started to caress Thara’s hand with his thumb and looked ahead again.

Thara felt his heart in his throat because he knew Frong wanted to say something. Had he just concealed his concerns?

“It’s nice,” Frong said and the little movements of his thumb on Thara’s hand was almost hypnotic. He tilted his head, and the street lamps of Bangkok illuminated his face in an uneven rhythm. “Maybe not nice… but reassuring.”

Thara raised an eyebrow. “Reassuring that I,” he quickly glanced towards the taxi driver and bent to get closer to Frong and murmured, “reassuring that I almost choked someone?”

“Do you mean that instead of almost you definitely defended someone? That you put a stop to someone being hurt?”

“I wasn’t…” But he couldn’t end his sentence as they stopped at the curb of Frong’s dormitory and the driver turned towards them to collect his fee. Thara hadn’t even realized that Frong had told him the address of his residence.

+++

“You make it sound nicer than it was.” Like he had been some hero. Frong looked at him through his reflection in the mirror, toothbrush in his mouth, and just raised an eyebrow. Yeah. Maybe continuing their conversation while Frong was unable to answer wasn’t the best idea, but he needed to say some stuff without Frong trying to dismantle them.

“I was ready to hurt that man! Ready and willing.” He heavily sat down on the toilet seat. It was a very small bathroom so he essentially blocked Frong’s way who could either step over Thara’s legs or sit down on his lap. He did neither. He turned and leaned against the tiny sink.

“I’m a med student,” Thara said and willed Frong to understand, “I’m not supposed to want to hurt someone.”

Frong continued to brush his teeth and seemed to wait for Thara to say something else but everything that had been in his mind was gone. Because in the end, it boiled down to him not being allowed to have those urges. It doesn’t matter how he voiced it. It was wrong.

“Let me ask you this,” Frong said finally and put his toothbrush back in the holder next to Thara’s. “If they brought the man in now, and you would work in the emergency room, and he was injured… would you help him?”

“Of course,” Thara said because that wasn’t the point and—

“You would treat him because you want to be a doctor because you want to help people regardless of what you already know about them… I think it’s allowed for you to be a human being and feel human emotion especially when your friends are involved. No one wants you to be a robot. You will have to make tough decisions soon enough, don’t beat yourself up about this.”

Thara sighed and stared down at his hands.

“Do you think they ‘took care of him’?”

Frong shrugged and pushed against Thara’s legs with his own until Thara made space for him to stand between them.

“It’s a gay bar. In the end, even if they called the police, we always have to look out for us ourselves, right?”

Thara mhmmed and put his forehead on Frong’s stomach, which was surprisingly comfortable for the sixpack-situation going on under his shirt.

“What did you mean with reassuring when we were in the taxi?”, he asked, because that had sat in the back of his mind since Frong had said it. Itching and irritating.

He felt how Thara bent a bit over him and put his hands on his shoulder, massaging the tension in Thara’s back with gentle strokes.

“It’s reassuring that you have vulnerable moments too.”

“I’m plenty vulnerable,” Thara murmured. What was Frong talking about?

“You like to solve my problems, yes, but that doesn’t mean that you are as vulnerable with me as I’m with you.”

“It’s my j—”

“If you were going to say it’s your job, I will kick you out. I’m not your job.”

Thara pressed his lips together. He wanted to say that. He felt responsible for Frong, for his wellbeing, for his happiness.

“I’m part of this relationship, too,” Frong murmured and the tone of his voice told Thara that he had wanted to say this for a long time now. “You can be vulnerable with me.”

Thara knew that. But it was hard.

He breathed in, smelled the bar on Frong, the aftershave he used, a bit of the minty toothpaste. Took another deep breath and tried to breathe the tension out.

“I wanted to hurt him so badly,” he finally whispered, a broken sound, the words more slurred than pronounced and Frong was still bent over him, like a warm cage of reassurance, his hands on Thara’s back and the warmth seeped through his shirt.

“I know,” he murmured. “Me too.”

 end

[thedeviltohisangel]

In The Air Tonight//1

She cherished her new last name. Cherished the memory of Bruce offering it to her. The memory of receiving it. Physically shedding the past and embracing her future. One filled with love and warmth and all of the things she had been raised to never want or need. But Bruce didn’t mind that she kept certain pieces of her old self intact. The pieces of her that enjoyed thrills and excitement and was addicted to adrenaline and walking the line between life and death.

masterlist is my url/writing

send me your thoughts on these two and what you want to see next

She was seething and he could tell. Felt it rolling off of her in waves every time he walked passed. It wasn’t that it was hard to keep her happy. It was just hard to keep her still. 

“Would you mind at least trying to smile?” he asked gently as he completed another lap of socializing.

“No. It would look worse than my scowl.” He hummed and took another sip of his champagne.

“How can I make it better?” Over the years, Bruce had come to pride himself in his ability to discern what was bothering her. To figure it out and make it better in a way that left others amazed. It always made Alfred smile to watch the familiar intimacy that the two had built over time. 

“Unfortunately, you can’t. It’s just one of those days.” They were few and far between ever since she had met him but they never disappeared. He reached down and gave her hand a light squeeze. Sometimes his affection was too much for her on these days. But she still needed to know he was there and understood and ready whenever she was. “Maybe...maybe even a solo kind of night.” She said it with no hint of her previous angst around the edges.

“Is that why it’s one of those days?” The date wasn’t lost on him. To Bruce there were happy dates he kept locked in his head. The day he met her. The day she married him. Her birthday. Alfred’s birthday. And then there were those that were melancholy. The date of his parent’s death. When he first donned the suit. When Wayne Manor burned down. But in the dark recesses of his mind were two dates he wished he could erase. Today was one year since Emilia had dove off the side of a building thinking she was following Catwoman. But it had been an illusion. He didn’t like thinking about it. About the way her body was mangled when he found her. The way his hands shook as he tried to assist Alfred. The way his tears stained her bandages as he cried and prayed and screamed for the days following.

“Yes,” she choked out as she blinked away the tears as she worked through the same memories that he had.

“Then you go solo tonight.” His eyes were molten as they landed on her. Bruce had worked hard to shove away the overbearing nature that he wanted to inhabit. He had sworn at her bedside that she would never leave the Manor again. That she could work with Alfred from the cave every night. Had fooled himself into thinking he could force her into becoming a housewife. He should have known the woman who gritted her teeth at the envelopes addressed to Mr. & Mrs. Bruce Wayne would never allow herself to be sheltered away. 

“I love you, Bruce,” she whispered as she allowed herself to indulge with a kiss. 

“I love you even more,” he whispered back, his hand coming to the back of her head so she couldn’t drift far and could kiss him again.

“Mr. Wayne, it’s unfair to keep such a beauty hidden away from the rest of us.” They were pulled from their cocoon by a party goer. Someone who did contract work with Wayne Enterprise she thinks.

“Sometimes we need a moment of solace from all the...revelers,” she said with the fake smile Bruce had asked her to put on earlier. There were some other words she would have preferred to label the party guests at but that wouldn’t have been very polite.

“May I steal you for a dance, Mrs.Wayne?”

“Actually, I-” Bruce started, stepping in to save her from her least favorite activity on a good day.

“This is one of my favorite songs, Mr. Irwin. You picked the perfect time to ask.” She returned the favor, squeezing Bruce’s hand before taking the other man’s arm and letting him lead her to the center of the dance floor. It wasn’t the first time, and certainly not the last time, that Bruce thought about how little he deserved someone like her in his life. Let alone as his wife. He watched her sway and spin and laugh while the entire room watched her. No one except him knew the true pain that was underneath her smile. Hidden in the polite conversation she was making. Needing to be mended over before she broke.

“Mrs. Wayne-”

“Emilia. Please.” She cherished her new last name. Cherished the memory of Bruce offering it to her. The memory of receiving it. Physically shedding the past and embracing her future. One filled with love and warmth and all of the things she had been raised to never want or need. But Bruce didn’t mind that she kept certain pieces of her old self intact. The pieces of her that enjoyed thrills and excitement and was addicted to adrenaline and walking the line between life and death.

“My apologies. Emilia, how does a man like Bruce Wayne snag himself such a fierce companion?” She smirked. It was a question they were asked often. The billionaire could have picked any beautiful girl he wanted. One who would devote herself to being a housewife. Drape herself in jewels and over his lap at every event. Have her legs spread for him once he got home. And understand that once her beauty faded, he would turn her in for a newer model.

“He earns her.” But instead of all of that, Bruce had found her. Found her in the mountains. He thought the League kept her around for her beauty. Assumed she was some sort of concubine for al Ghul. Brutally, he learned otherwise.

“Is that the secret?”

“It is no secret. Shouldn’t we all prove ourselves worthy of the companion we seek? Whether it be through physical gestures or emotional connection?” She supposes he got his wife through material gifts. How dreadful.

“Excuse me, but I believe this is our song.”

“Is mind reading another skill you’ve happened to pick up lately?” Emilia smiled genuinely as her husband spun her in a grand circle and pulled her so close she thought they might become one.

“Can only read yours.” 

“Well, you have my gratitude.”

“Yeah?” She recognized the glint to his eyes instantly, his hand sliding further down her back. 

“Even though coming with you on your plane that day means speaking to strangers and laughing at things that are not funny, I would not take back a single moment.”

“Even the bloody ones?” His tone was softer as his words got more serious. Bruce couldn’t deny that her being with him brought her danger even if she was more than capable of defending herself in the face of it. You never wanted to be the reason your loved ones had sadness behind their eyes. Normally, she was a rock. With and without the mask. You’d never know she was human under all her stoicism. He never wanted to, or felt he needed to, treat her like she was made of glass. He was honest and blunt and didn’t pull his punches when they sparred on the weekends. Maybe he should stop assuming her strength.

“If I was not bloody with you then I would be bloody alone. I much prefer the company.” She smiled up at him and it felt like only the two of them were in the room. Her life was always complicated and always would be. Being with Bruce Wayne wasn’t the reason for her tumultuous inner thoughts or nightmares. They were a part of her. Having him brought more light. Chased some of the dark corners away.

“Look in the sky!”

“I wonder what’s going on!”

“Someone get Jim Gordon on the phone!” They both looked in the direction of the pointed fingers and saw The Bat Signal in the sky. Emilia turned back to say goodbye to her husband and assume her position as host, Mrs. Wayne. 

“Go.” Her face transformed into shock as the word came out of Bruce’s mouth.

“But-”

“We agreed you’d go solo tonight. Nothing changes that.”

“Bruce, that signal means you and all these people-”

“Will be politely asked to leave as soon as possible.” She kissed him with a newfound exhilaration. “Now go. Alfred will be your eyes and ears until I can get down there.” After indulging with one more kiss, Emilia walked out of the gala before picking up her pace towards the library. Her fingers found the three keys with ease and she slipped behind the bookshelf as quiet as a mouse.

“Evening, Mrs. Wayne.”

“Evening, Alfred. What am I running into?” She started shedding her dress and jewelry as the butler pressed a button and a clear wardrobe rose from the water.

“Bank robbery with hostages.”

“Normal robbers or are they in clown masks? Exploding penguins? Riddles?” Nothing was ever simple in Gotham. She had learned quickly that everyone had a gimmick.

“Not yet,” he replied. “Is Master Wayne joining you tonight?”

“No, Alfred, we have guests.”

“How’s it going? She complete recon yet?” Alfred looked to his left as Bruce came jogging into the cave. He was undoing his cufflinks and rolling up his sleeves, out of breath from his hustle to dismiss the attendees and workers so he could make it down to the southeast corner.

“Yes. I’m not that slow,” she teased over the speakers.

“How many? What kind of weapons? The hostages-”

“Bruce. I’ll cut off comms if you don’t breathe and keep quiet.” He dropped his head and stayed quiet so she knew he had heard and would obey. But Alfred noticed the slight tremor to his hands, the way he was tapping the ground with his foot. 

“Why did you agree if you were going to kill yourself with worries, Master Wayne?” he asked as he pressed the button to mute their microphone.

“The way she was looking at me, Alfred...I…”

“Love leaves us powerless sometimes. Particularly when faced by the person we give it to.” 

“4 hostiles, 20 hostages. 2 of them children.”

“Weapons?”

“Fully automatic. Be home in time for a sudsy shower, don’t worry.” Bruce didn’t even have time to apologize to Alfred before she was throwing a stun grenade and gracefully falling from the window of the bank. She appeared to the goons in flashes. Gone before they had a chance to get their bearings on her appearance. She took down two before the effects of surprise wore off, the third leveling his gun at her and the fourth at a hostage.

“Alright, Mrs. Batshit, you pick your life or the boy’s.”

“Shoot me.” Bruce had been silent, doing his best to relax, but her words startled him slightly. He had seen her get out of the most dire of situations but she was standing perfectly relaxed, the gun leveled at point blank range. “Pull the trigger.” And he did. And nothing happened.

“She counts her bullets well, doesn’t she?” Alfred mentioned with a jovial smile.

“Need her to start counting my lives,” Bruce replied as he exhaled. Emilia used their moment of confusion to toss a dagger behind her, piercing the the hand of the final hostile and letting the child break free as he howled in agony. Her leg kicked high and knocked the gun from the one who was planning to shoot her, her fist following him to the ground and succeeding in knocking him out. She turned to finish the fourth but saw he was on his knees as if he was waiting for her. As if he was bowing to her. “What’s this?” Bruce muttered as he pressed to turn up the volume.

“I am honored to be in your presence, my Lady.”

“Remove your mask.” It wasn’t a thug as she had been expecting. But rather a woman. One she knew well. One even she feared. “Shiva.”

“I’ve come to bring you home.” Bruce had many questions as he watched the moment unfold in front of him and had to bite his tongue to prevent them all from tumbling out.

“And if this is my home?” Emilia asked, her hand moving to grip the bo staff that was strapped to her back. Shiva wasn’t who they sent to negotiate. Not with her words anyways.

“Then you know what I must do.” It was at that moment the police breached the bank and their guns were pointed at the two of them.

“Emilia, get out of there!” Bruce called out as her and Shiva seemed in no rush to move from their current positions.

“I look forward to our next encounter, my Lady. Being responsible for your only defeat has taken me far.” It was meant to anger her and would have succeeded in initiating their next death match if it wasn’t for Bruce calling out in her ear. Emilia grappled up through the skylight and out of sight before anyone knew any better.

“Get me everything you can possibly find on that woman, Alfred.”

“Yes, sir. What do you think this means?”

“The past has come for her. And they aren’t taking her.”

[masked-buffoon]

Chapter 9: Scheming anew (Part 2)

Warnings: none

Author notes: I had so much fun writing the interaction between Ogawa and our one and only Kunikida...! They really are opposite and it felt good writing something lighter...! Hope you like it too!

As he was unconscious, I untied the ropes around my wrists and used them to tie him down, before rushing toward the room I rented without being seen by the policemen. I had escaped, but I was now a fugitive who had raised a hand against an inspector... It could have been better, but I would have been condemned to death for killing someone if things had kept going. Swiftly, I locked the door and pulled out the box of syringes to take one and inject the drug in my vein, hoping its effects would relieve me soon. Then, I removed a wooden plank from the floor and pulled out hidden magazines for my guns. I had hidden them, judging unnecessary to use them, but they could be useful at this very moment. I would not hesitate to shoot to preserve this freedom I had acquired after running from the Port Mafia.

Soon enough, the door to my room trembled and the voice of this annoying man echoed through the wood. He was asking me to surrender, so we could perhaps negotiate my judgement for the trial, but I did not need such a thing. I was innocent, and I would prove it. Gathering my strength, I climbed through the window and reached the neighbouring one. The policemen had taken their break and the room was empty, with only the woman's body left alone in its original position. I examined it immediately, surprised they had not taken it out for an autopsy, but then again, policemen were incompetent. I looked around the room, hoping to find something — anything — which could help me solve this murder case. Through the thin walls between the two rooms, I heard that they successfully entered my place and were more likely looking for me or proof of my guilt. Except the box of syringes which could be mistaken as drugs, I had nothing to hide. They would tire themselves trying to find hints which did not exist. I frowned and took a minute to think. No trace of aggression... The weapon could be either an ability or poison. If an ability user powerful enough could kill someone without raving a single trace, then the government would certainly be after him and there was no way he could be involved with this rather insignificant case. Which left the poisoning option. Except by doing an autopsy, I could not determine which substance had killed this woman nor how it had been administered. Nevertheless, I did recall that the struggling had stopped at once, as if she had been knocked out suddenly. I had not heard any grunts or whimpers from someone being forcefully shoved something into their mouth would emit, meaning the poison had been given externally. I chuckled, running a hand through my messily tied hair. A syringe was the most plausible option, and I was quite knowledgeable about them. The victim was wearing a sleeveless top; she could have been attacked around her arms. Carefully, I kneeled next to her and examined her skin. There it was, the small wound caused by the needle carelessly planted into her skin. The blood had stopped circulating so the haemorrhage was now barely visible, but it was there. With some luck, she would have struggled so much that the murderers could have lost the syringe... I closed the curtains and turned off the light, before pulling out my phone and tapping on the torch application. If the needle was still in the room, the faint light would make it shine. It did. I picked the clue up with a handkerchief not to dirty it with my fingerprints, between two planks of wood, and decided to leave the room. I had everything I needed.

"Anything interesting in there?" I casually leaned onto the door frame of my own room, staring as the blonde man was looking everywhere.

"Y-You...! How...?" His eyes widened and he stomped toward me.

I dodged him as he tried to catch my wrist and placed the handkerchief with the needle in his palm.

"While you were pointlessly trying to accuse me, I was looking for useful clues on the crime scene. The victim was poisoned. The weapon is a syringe." I stated "Do you believe I'm innocent, now?"

"I did find a box full of syringes under your bed. Doesn't that prove you're the culprit?" He narrowed his eyes "Not to mention you got me good there... It'll ache for a week at least..."

I scoffed as he rubbed his neck painfully.

"Consider yourself lucky I did not use a gun." I shrugged it off "Your colleges did not even check if I was carrying firearms. Anyway, I —"

"Do you?"

"Eh?"

"Do you carry any firearm?" He groaned.

"I do." I looked blankly at him "May I keep proving I am not the murderer?"

"... Go on..." He gave up "We're at a loss for clues anyway. If only Ranpo-san was there..."

"Well..." I cleared my throat "What you found in my room is morphine. I am sick and I may or may not use medication excessively... Whatever, the point is, an overdose of morphine would cause respiratory depression, which the victim did not suffer from. I was a witness. She was struggling, then suddenly fell to the floor. Morphine would not do that. I believe there was something else in the needle you're holding, but I'll leave that to the lab. There could be countless possibilities of poisons..."

"You sound well-versed in such shady business..." He became suspicious again.

"I do not belong to your world, after all..." I smirked "I have to admit the method to kill the woman is intelligent and soundless. If it were me, I would have most certainly shot her between her eyes... Ah, but I would have taken my gun silencer, of course. To sum it up, I'm not the one you're looking for, glassy."

"... Glassy...?" He raised an eyebrow "Why, I admit your explanations are logical but... Are you sure you aren't giving me a reason to arrest you? You do carry firearms and you sound like a hitman..."

"A hitman...? That's too glorious a name for me." I chucked "I am a forgotten human of the underworld, you should not meddle too much with me. As long as you don't arrest me, I will let you off. And, you owe me one for helping you with the case, anyway."

"Let's say I owe you one. Would you trust my words if I said I would not arrest you?"

"Obviously not." I grinned "That is, if I could not accurately read your mind. I'm a monster, an ability user who can hear your thoughts as though you were speaking at loud. Will you arrest me?"

"The law says I must. Thus..." He showed me a pair of handcuffs "Surrender, please."

"You're a man of words. You do as you think." I told him "It's rare to see people as honest as you nowadays... However, this honesty of yours will be your very end..."

"I want to do my job with peace of mind." He defended "I arrest you, not because I have something against you but because you did illegal things. Do not think I am being ungrateful."

"Oh, I don't think so." I shook my head "What you do is right. But I haven't grown in righteousness."

As these words escaped my throat, I swiftly ran past him into my room and reached out for the balcony.

"I will not let you arrest me. Now..." I pulled out a gun and aimed at him "Hands up and face toward the wall."

The man reluctantly complied, but I was in a superior position and, unless reinforcements were to come, I was sure to win.

"Farewell, glassy~" I hummed, escaping through the balcony.

I stayed a moment, holding onto the edge, until I heard his footsteps hurrying out of the room. When I was sure he had exited it, I climbed back inside and simply walked toward the staircases, heading toward the roof where he would not find me. This man was too idealistic. He was too honest, too. To easily be fooled by my little trick... I had never hoped he would fall for it, but well... At least, he had stayed true to himself and had respected the law as his ideals ordered him. I leaned onto the fence, looking at the alley beneath me. The man was running around, trying to look at me, but it was to no use since I was just above his head.

"Well, he'll just give up sooner or later." I shrugged it off, putting my gun back into the holster "And I'll be able to rest in peace..."

I smiled at my pun and sat down on the roof, pulling a box of pain relievers out of my pocket. I would simply wait for the police to leave before regaining my room and the dirty bed, where I would lay and go back to my routine of drugs until I could finally die.

"There is no way you can rest in peace in such a substandard room." One noted, sitting next to me "Why do you always choose such shabby places?"

"Um..." I did not realise someone was talking to me "Money issues? If I'm going to die, I won't spend much on my living expenses, anyway. So —"

I stopped myself and stared at the one next to me. It had felt so natural… I had not noticed.

"What are you doing here, Dazai...?" I almost breathed out, strength leaving my limbs suddenly.

"I escaped from Kunikida-kun to slack off freely~" He explained "You tricked him well. Did not expect you to hit him with a chair either~"

"I care about this illusion of freedom too much to go to jail." I answered "What I meant was, what is the reason for your presence here?"

"Well..." He pulled out a cigarette "Do you mind?"

I shook my head. He lit it up and brought it to his mouth. The way he smoked differed from Chūya's, in that his fingers were more slender and his movements more graceful. I had only seen him a couple of times with a cigarette, when, sometimes, the burdens of his heart had been too much to bear. He exhaled, and the little smoke cloud faded in the cool air of the ending afternoon.

"I came for the murder, with my colleague, Kunikida-kun." He explained.

"Are you with the police, now?" I raised an eyebrow, surprised.

"No no...!" He laughed "No way...! Too many rules for me..."

"But you do work for the government now..." I sighed "Did you know I was there, in that one hostel of Yokohama where a young woman died?"

"I did not." My former superior confessed "I had no idea you would be there... Or I would have come earlier."

"Is that so..." I felt moved by his words "I'm glad..."

"Ogawa... I need you to tell me something..." He asked me.

"What is it...? Is it related to the murder or anything...?"

"Not at all. I heard you found out. No, I need you to tell me... How is the sunset, this evening?"

I looked at the sun falling behind the skyscrapers of Yokohama. I frowned.

"Are you trying to hold onto life?"

"That's not what you think —"

"I don't think it's a bad thing." I cut him "But I... Am no longer able to describe the beauty of the sunset I once could see from the Mafia headquarters... All I see from there is a ball of white light disappearing in a greyish sky. And such a sight isn't beautiful, is it? It isn't what you want me to show you..."

"It is, indeed, not what I wanted you to tell me..." Dazai looked away "I did not think you would come to lose your colours..."

"You had predicted it." I reminded him.

"I did not want it to happen." He said, more curtly "I did not want you, out of everyone, not to be able to see the colours you liked anymore..."

"Without you by my side, they became completely useless... I had no one to paint the sky for anymore..."

"Why don't you just allow me to take you with me again...? You are stubborn Ogawa, but I don't want this stubbornness to kill you." He told me.

"I choose to die." I retorted "Just like you endlessly try to commit suicide, I let myself die."

"I don't want you to die."

"... You're pretty selfish."

"I'll take responsibility for it."

"The thing is..." I sighed "I do not want to live in fear to lose you again if I choose to come back to your side."

"That's logical that you want to avoid suffering... It's a human reaction." He commented.

"Isn't it...? But those are matters I have long discarded now..."

"What keeps you from coming with me, then?" He insisted.

"I..." I lowered my head "I can't say..."

I could not admit I felt too shameful as a person to ever be able to stand by his side again. I had left the Port Mafia to be with him, yet I was too weak. Even if he granted me sleep, even if he said he cared about me, I was aware it was not meant to last forever. If Dazai was determined to strive and hold onto life, there would come a day when he would meet someone who would support him and whom he would open his heart to. When this day would come, he would not want to give me sleep every night anymore, and I would end up discarded another time, and I would die. I would rather leave the world at this very moment than hoping again that I could live a few more years with him. I would have less regrets...

"Ah, so..." He murmured, throwing his cigarette on the ground and crushing it with his heel "I still wish you would be with me, though... I... Feel so empty... Without you around... I feel so lonely as well... Odasaku is gone, so is Ango... You were the only one remaining, yet I was not able to keep you with me... I am aware everything is my fault, yet I still hope I could have you back, somehow..."

"And I am aware that I made a promise..." I glanced at him "But you were the one who broke it... How would you expect me to be with you if you did not allow me near you...? I could not understand, and so, I stopped waiting..."

"I know..." His fingers barely brushed against mine "I am a stupid coward... That, you surely know..."

"You cannot always hide behind cowardice... You must face the consequences of your actions if you made the wrong decision... Dazai, I have to admit that, right now, I don't really want to die..." I confessed "Rather, I want to open my eyes again onto a colourful world, and you are the only one who can return those colours to me... Just tonight... Will you cancel my ability...?"

"You need not ask, Ogawa... I will definitely cancel your ability, tonight, tomorrow and the following day too, if you demand so. I won't let you die..." He assured me.

"I know you won't..." I smiled "You won't, as long as I am there. If I were to leave this cheap hostel, would you try to find me...? That, I cannot be sure... You have not made a single move toward me since last time, what am I supposed to think?"

"I thought you would make the move... I didn't know you would leave the Port Mafia..."

"Are you sure...? You did not know...?" I raised an eyebrow.

"... Perhaps I did suppose you would..."

"That's my point." I shrugged, standing up "But, to be honest, I really, really wish I could come back to your side... But I..."

I stopped, and shook my head.

"Let's go back inside... We may talk again tomorrow, if you do come back..." I told him.

"Tomorrow." He walked toward the door "We'll come back. The murder case isn't over yet."

"The culprits have yet to be caught, after all." I agreed "But I do hope you'll find them soon."

"Heh~ Do you desperately want me to leave you alone~?"

"Not at all... But I was tied up because of them, they must pay for involving me." I stated simply.

"I suppose I owe you this, at least." He chucked "I like seeing this side of you better."

"To be fairly honest, I'm glad to talk to you again." I looked at him with a smile "And in all objectivity, you already know I will choose to come back after a moment. Why are you even worried?"

"Because I genuinely want you to come back... And I am also sincerely afraid that you die before reaching my side again. I fear that I will lose you forever, too..."

I admired him for being able to admit his feelings to me. In a way, it meant he cared about me enough to show his true face, he who had always hidden behind a mask of joviality. I hoped he would drop his mask more often around me, and tell me about his issues, but I was aware I could not ask so much so soon. With time, perhaps... Perhaps we would come to become real friends.

[5lazarus]

White Nights, Ch. 1: The Balcony

A year or so after Trespasser, Lavellan takes a brief vacation from mapping weaknesses in the Veil to Val Royeaux, and brings a new lover with her. She steps out to her balcony to enjoy the melancholy night, glances over curiously when a man steps out to the balcony attached to the room next to her, and freezes. It looks like the Dread Wolf had the same idea.

read on AO3 here

read Ch. 2: The Docks here, and Ch. 3: The Broadsheet here.

Sweat drying on her skin, she fishes a crumbled nightgown out of her pack and makes herself presentable. Anders snoozes on the bed, blissed into sleep. He surrenders himself so easily to passion. Lavellan watches him sleep, envious. She has always thought too much.

She finds the leather pouch of tobacco cut with elfroot a former lover made her, prepares her pipe, and opens the shutters to the balcony to enjoy it properly. She lights it, smiling to herself. She has never really gotten a vacation, but under Divine Victoria’s new law, mages enjoy an untold-of freedom of movement. And while she has left the infrastructure behind her, she still has the money and prestige. Enjoy the world while it still lasts, he said. Lavellan snorts and smokes her pipe. She has embraced it utterly, the cool night clean on her skin. Below her the streets of Val Royeaux babble, and she can smell the ocean. They took a room a few streets from the Alienage: that too is new. The Inquisitor, retired or not, is different from other elves, even when she has that apostate lover in tow. If anything, the addition of Anders endears her to the gossips of Val Royeaux. She has always given them something to talk about. She traces out the Pleiades and smiles. An adoring lover, a sea coast, and one more day off? What more can she ask? The shutters of the balcony next to her rustle and she glances over to see a bearded man step out, face cast in shadow. Lavellan notes the ears: another one of the People made good. He’s clutching a bottle of wine. She admires his silhouette--Anders is well-built but not particularly shapely--as he sits on the edge of the balcony and pours himself a glass. He lights himself a candle and raises the glass to his lips. He glances at her curiously and freezes. Lavellan takes the pipe from her lips, iced under his gaze. The rosy post-coital warmth disappears as if she’s just leapt into the ocean. Solas’ lips move soundlessly as he tries and fails to articulate their mutual horror. She thinks dimly, at least I still make him speechless. She should have put her prosthetic back on. She says, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Hand trembling, he raises his glass to his lips. He does not spill a drop. “I am leaving in the morning. I will leave earlier.” He drinks and sets the glass with a clink back onto the balcony’s edge. Still he stares at her. She supposes she looks just-fucked, because she is--hair ruffled, skin reddened, and nightgown thrown on carelessly. Anders likes to sleep nude. Lavellan laughs. “Wonderful. Hilarious. Three years Leliana has tried to track you,” and succeeded, but she will not tell him that, “and I find you on the opposite balcony, undressed. I suppose you thought the hair would be enough of a disguise.” Solas smiles. “It has worked before.” It hasn’t, but again she will not tell him that. “Certainly.” She puffs on her pipe and exhales smoke, watching it drift towards the street opposite. She can see light spilling behind the shutters of the floor opposite. Someone else like to fuck with the lights on. Lavellan smiles thinly. She remembers finding him in a tavern with Varric and Hawke, not too long about the Exalted Council. They had managed to find three of his eluvians in Ostwick and Kirkwall, thanks to his arrogance, and reclaim one of them. The beard does not disguise his face--or his swagger. She closes her eyes: unless this is all an elaborate double-bluff. What would Keeper Deshanna say? The wolf chews off his own leg to escape the trap. He has his back to the door, but both of his arms--and he can turn people to stone now, Morrigan confirmed. That would not be the worst thing he has done to her, though, would it? He is staring at her remaining hand, at the sylvanwood ring she now wears--a gift from Merrill, who said she needed it more. Lavellan laughs bitterly. “A Keeper’s ring,” she says. “I suppose you would not know the story. A relic of the People, to remind its leaders of the Dread Wolf’s betrayal. Though it was a lesson I never learned, and was read too late besides.” Solas flinches. “I had hoped it was a wedding ring.” He glances towards her room. From his perspective, she supposes, the unmade bed and the man in it are just visible, if he cranes his neck a bit, which he is doing. She is tired of looking at her life from his perspective. “Fuck you,” Lavellan says. She lays the pipe down carefully and half-closes the shutters. If Anders wakes up, he’ll see her--but Solas will not see him. But Justice will not allow him to attack an unarmed man, as if the Dread Wolf is ever without his weapons. “My apologies,” he says. “That was inappropriate. I...I have hoped you have been happy.” She looks at him incredulously. “Which is why you stalk my dreams at night, exactly like the nightmare of Dalish legends. To hope that I’m happy.” She gestures grandly. “Which is why you appear here, at my balcony, on my one vacation--” “An unfortunate coincidence,” Solas cuts in coldly. “And I will go. You know it has never been my intention to cause you pain.” He turns away and picks up his glass. “You took my arm off,” Lavellan says. Solas stops. “I didn’t realize that was an accident.” He turns around and to her amusement he is smiling wryly. He rubs his forehead. “It was eating at your bone marrow. But the next time an ancient artifact of untold power starts a cancer in your body, I will let it fester. Thank you for letting me know.” Lavellan watches him coolly and imagines rubbing the hot ashes of her tobacco into his face. Maybe it will leave a mark like the Anchor did, before it melted the skin from her muscle and disabled her permanently. It had stunk. None of the salves Vivienne had concocted had soothed it. The Anchor’s heat would melt through the leather of every glove she hid it in too, towards the end. She had known for a long time she would need to amputate it. She just had not thought it would take her whole forearm. “Why didn’t you say anything?” she says. She knows she should let him leave, but she wants to know. “If you knew it would--fester. Why did you leave without warning me?” Fear lances through Solas’ eyes, flickering in the candlelight. “I am not a cruel man,” he says instead. “That is not an answer.” She smiles unpleasantly, sitting down at the balcony’s edge, and crosses her legs. His eyes trace up her body. He looks afraid. She knows how he likes to use her, to defend himself and to flagellate himself against the fundamental truths of his being. The Dalish have pegged him right. He is a cruel man. He is a monster. He lost his humanity millennia ago, sacrificed on the grave of Mythal. Morrigan told her what the Well whispers. If the evanuris deserved untold punishment for killing the All-Mother, what is his due? The perpetual bleeding wound of what he did to her. Her stump itches, and she scratches at it pointedly: it has long since scabbed over, but he does like to pick at his wounds. “You have your life,” Solas says testily. “You have your freedom, and all the riches of the Inquisition. You have the time left to you. What else can I give to you?” Anger twists in her so viscerally she coughs at the bile rising in her throat. She steadies herself. “I am not your fucking petitioner, Solas. You’re no god of mine. You never were.” She stares back defiantly. After the Council, once Morrigan clarified the vallaslin did not bind her to the will of Mythal, she had Deshanna draw her brand brighter. She likes it. Mythal had watched her People suffer, killed by those who would sacrifice them. Her vallaslin is a promise: vengeance, for the world. All her gods have long been dead, and she is the last one standing. The agents of Fen’Harel have found little support amongst the Dalish and the elves of the Free Marches, Ferelden, and Orlais. Solas says, “I’m sorry.” A breeze drifts cold from the sea, and Lavellan shivers. This nightgown is meant to be taken off, not kept on. She glances inside. Anders is still asleep. He won’t be upset when she explains this to him, he’s had his fair share of bad exes--and been the bad ex. She has few illusions about him. He eases something in her, for now. He’s more attached to her than she is to him. She likes it that way, to hold someone loosely for once. He will not be the one who leaves. He idolizes her a little bit, but he doesn’t idealize her like Solas did. Solas follows her gaze and purses his lips. He says, “I am keeping you from your rest.” Neither of them move. He wears an ugly expression, made worse by the glowstones inlaid at the edge of the building, the candle still flickering on the balcony. She has always enjoyed the harsh angularity of his face and the starkness of his emotions. He seethes with discontent. Sometimes he channels it productively, passionately, but she can never forget that this is the man who stared at the Nightmare boredly, but raged at the useless Kirkwall mages. There is a foot between their balconies, and she is acutely conscious of the space. He could vaunt over it easily. So could she. Ugily he stares at her, burning her visage into him. She wonders: does he like what he sees? Does that matter? Of course it does. Uncomfortable, she taps her pipe against the balcony. She shakes her head, and smiling, says, “You still haven’t answered my question.” “What is there left to say?” Solas clenches his hands. “You have taken my measure. Why do you need me to stay what you already know?” “Because I don’t,” Lavellan says. “Because I want you to admit it. You left me to die in pain--” Solas steps closer, distressed, but she throws her arm up. “Don’t interrupt! You told me you loved me. You fucked me. You,” she starts laughing, thinking about Crestwood, “you brought me to a swamp to show me ‘how much I meant to you.’” She is grinning now, staring at him. Solas looks wretched: as if that means something. “You tried to reenact your savior fantasy with me--’ar lasa mala revas,’ my ass. And when I objected, you left me. While claiming I meant the world to you. And then you let my arm rot off.” “There were--considerations.” “Corypheus,” Lavellan says bitterly. “The Blight that is coming. The decay that is spreading in the Emprise, despite how deep we dig. The wakened Titan. And, at the root of this all, Mythal.” Solas freezes. His eyes widen in surprise and he beams at her--but as quickly as the smile flashes across his face, it is gone. He arranges himself neutrally again, pointedly tucking his arms behind his back. That little familiar gesture still amuses her, as much as it makes her sad. She had thought he did that to keep from touching her. Even the gulf between them is not enough. He still wants to reach for her--he won’t, of course, but it pings her vanity to know he wants to. He utters, “Well done.” Lavellan says, “You’re a patronizing prick, do you know that?” “You certainly aren’t the first who’ve told me that,” Solas replies, amused. Despite himself, he has crept to the very edge of the balcony. She reaches for him and he takes her hand, helping her to her feet. He puts his hand on her waist to steady her. The embrace is clumsy; there is a foot between them and three storeys below them. She does not let go of his hand, he does not let of her waist, and when she looks up Solas bites his lip. “Fenhedis,” he says, and kisses her. She grips his arm to keep from falling. Kissing him is so easy. She does not need to think, but sighs raggedly into the embrace. They break the kiss but do not pull away. He rests his forehead against hers, awkwardly bracing his knee against the opposite balcony. He looks like he is about to leap over to join her, or fall between them. She smiles ironically. A year ago she would have muttered, “Dread Wolf take me,” at a kiss as devastating as this: but so he has, again. Lavellan nuzzles at his face and murmurs, “I cannot go into your room.” She draws an arbitrary boundary, when she has already crossed the threshold. Anders still lays sleeping in the bed behind her. She thinks to herself, I can gather information. He wants to stay with me. He wants me to stay. He has always said it is easy to tell me too much, whatever that means. I can bind him to that. This is not an excuse. She looks up at him. Solas rests his hand on her shoulder, eyes tender. “Meet me outside.” “I owe you that,” Solas says vaguely, and Lavellan raises an eyebrow. That, too, is an excuse, more patronizing than hers. She can use that. She thinks she can use that. She has her anger to whip the lines she will not cross into her feet. They carefully pull away from each other. One false move, and the other falls between the balconies. Lavellan finds her pipe, still smoldering slightly, and Solas collects his wine and candle. Before she closes the shutters, she turns and sees him watching her. He says, “I love you. Though we both know you deserve better. I love you.” “Stop it,” Lavellan says, and he laughs. She closes the shutters, smiling as tears dot at her eyes. She places the pipe on her dresser and goes to her lover. Lavellan leans over Anders and whispers, “Wake up--don’t say anything.” Anders frowns in his sleep, and she shakes his shoulder gently. “Quietly.” He turns, alarmed, so Lavellan puts her hand over his mouth. She whispers, “The Dread Wolf rented the room next to us.” Anders rubs his eyes and sits up, careful not to let the bed creak. “What the fuck?” She shushes him. “I’m serious,” she whispers. “And we’re going on a walk. Use the crystal to call Leliana if I’m not back by dawn.” Anders says, “You’re serious.” Sleep falling from his eyes, he focuses on her face and reaches for her. Healer’s hands: she takes his hand and presses a kiss into the palm. He traces the outline of her lips with his thumb. Guilt grasps her, and she moves away from his touch. His face falls. “You’re going on a night walk with the Dread Wolf. Your ex. The Dread Wolf--who not only put the Veil up in the first place, but wants to tear it down and kill us all.” She tenses. “Keep your voice down. He doesn’t think I’d wake you. Have that much faith in me.” Quietly she slides off of him and pulls off her dress. She shoots him a look over her shoulder, hoping to distract him, but he is clearly displeased. Quickly she pulls on underclothes, a tunic, leggings--but she can feel him fretting silently. “I won’t stop you,” Anders says finally. “But you do realize what this looks like to me.” He is completely still, playing along for her. Lavellan straps on her prosthetic and fits a jar of bees into the compartment. She brandishes it at him, and Anders smiles slightly. She walks over to him and kisses him gently. “I’ll be back before dawn,” she says firmly. “And if I’m not--he’d kill me, not kidnap me.” She taps her sylvanwood ring with her prosthetic clumsily. “He does not think I would wake you. While we’re gone, check the guest registry. I want to know what name he used. And then call Leliana.” Pointedly she hands him the sending crystal. Anders sighs. “I’ll be back,” she repeats. And I’ll keep him walking and talking so I won’t fuck him, too, she adds silently. “And we’ll regroup in the morning.”

[kuno-chan]

Sides of the Moon - Ch. 23, The Nexus

Summary: Runaan and his team of assassins discovers that Rayla has defied him. Again. But when they find her, she’s bleeding out in the woods with precious cargo under her arm and face to face with the princes of Katolis running away from their own castle. They find that, upon this meeting, the die has already been cast.

Rating: T

–

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--

Every now and again, Callum checked Rayla’s face. He knew better than to talk about her feelings again. The first time, she snapped at him.

So, he chose a different approach.

“You’re upset. And you’re angry at yourself,” he said. “I get that. You should be.”

Rayla turned her head sharply. She frowned and looked away. He pressed her a little more.

“I would be. I do, actually.” he said. “I nearly got us both killed more than once at this point.”

“Those times weren’t your fault,” she said. Her frown lessened as she turned her attention back on him. “You did what you thought was right.”

Callum raised his brows slightly.

She crossed her arms and pouted.

“Rayla, that--”

“Don’t say it.”

He made a face at her. “That wasn’t your fault. You were only trying to do the right thing.”

“And now we can’t go to any town even if we run out of supplies. I’ve just essentially cut us off.”

“We probably couldn’t risk it much more, anyway. Obviously, Anarr and Morgan are hunting us and aren’t above hurting others. If you didn’t defend those people, then who would?”

She didn’t answer him. He didn’t push, but he knew he’d won in some small way when she uncrossed her arms. She didn’t look entirely convinced she hadn’t done a terrible thing from the expression on her face, though.

Not that Runaan’s disapproval helped. And he could admit that perhaps they could have formulated a plan or she shouldn’t have gone in by herself.

But then Callum wondered if that was the rational part of him or the part that hated to see Rayla in any more danger than she needed to be in.

Whatever the case, nothing good would come of her dwelling over any past mistakes. He took her hand and squeezed it. “Don’t beat yourself up over it, okay? I thought you were brave.”

Rayla stared. Then, she smiled weakly and squeezed his hand back before letting go. It wouldn’t be so bad if she were happy. It would be nice if Rayla was happy.

That being said, neither of them knew what destination Runaan had in mind. He had been tight lipped about it for one reason or another and didn’t seem inclined to tell either of them where they were going. They couldn’t deviate west anymore. That was not an option. Stopping for too long was also not a possibility now that they knew how closely Morgan and Anarr were following them.

No, they had to keep going east, to Xadia, but they had to stop somewhere, right?

Then there was the issue with the egg. It was still glowing dimly and dimmer still as the day passed. What would happen to it? Would it die? Nobody had an answer. Nobody had time for an answer.

“In order to be born, storm dragons must be born during a storm,” Ram was telling Ezran at one point. “I don’t know what will happen from here on out.”

None of them did. The sky was clear for miles.

When Callum got stressed, he turned to either his sketchbook or, as of late, the rune book. He wondered about this book. It had notes in it. From Lord Viren, no doubt. But he was curious how special this book could be, considering it was in his lair. There were things in here that made him think and spells he wasn’t sure if he could try.

Maybe one day, he might.

-:-:-:-

Rayla hated that he was right.

Even if it didn’t feel like it.

There were some things Callum didn’t understand. What it meant to be an assassin and what it meant about her actions, right or not.

Or what it felt like to have Runaan’s disapproval.

They would speak later on all of this when their lives weren’t in danger, but that also meant putting it off and living with how he felt about her choices right now. Just like back when she didn’t kill that human.

Thinking of Callum, she’s not entirely sure she regrets not killing that human.

This was the part Callum didn’t understand. Her duties to her people as an assassin . To her team as one, too.

Then again, who knew what part of her was telling her that? So much had happened in the past few weeks. There was a time not too long ago where Callum was only the son of her enemy.

Now, that was so far from the truth.

When he squeezed her hand, she’d smiled, and it’d been so easy to just squeeze it back. They didn’t question it.

She wasn’t sure if she’d ever had someone like that.

Someone who wasn’t Ethari or Runaan, anyway.

They continued to travel east, stopping only when they had to, but otherwise leaving as soon as light came. Travelling at night might have been something they would have considered if not for Ezran and, to a lesser extent, Callum. At night, Runaan had two people on lookout at all times.

Morning came with nobody feeling entirely rested. Even Ezran was still rubbing his eyes halfway through the morning as they continued their trek. Perhaps they had gotten spoiled, sleeping in whatever inns they could find disguised as humans.

That wasn’t an option anymore. Anarr had taken the pendant Rayla had on her person and there were no extras. Granted, it’d been dangerous at best to be in those human places, especially considering Herna figured out who they actually were.

Rayla didn’t ask questions. She followed, but noticed more than once that Callisto and Runaan would talk amongst themselves.

Rayla found Callisto while they were resting that afternoon.

“Is he going to tell the rest of us where we’re going?”

“I doubt it’s a place you’ve been before,” he told her.

“Have you?” She sat next to him. “Where is it?”

Callisto fixed her with a look, deciding if he was going to tell her or not.

He sighed.

“The Moon Nexus is a place where moon magic is at its most powerful. And it’s the only safe place for us at the moment.” She winced. He continued. “There’s a moon mage who lives there and guards the nexus. She’s a bit… eccentric, but doubtless she won’t mind the company as long as we all behave.”

“I can behave,” Rayla said, looking away.

“I know you can. And you will. It’s a sacred place. Runaan would not be happy about your misadventures with the prince there.”

“He’s already not happy with me.”

To her surprise, Callisto took on a gentler tone. “For now. But, remember, you rarely ever see him in this kind of light. Here, he is not the man that raised you. And yet, that’s a difficult thing for him to put aside. He doesn’t think you’re incompetent. Just green.”

Rayla looked at him. “That’s a little better, I guess.”

“A lot better. It’s harder to teach incompetence than it is to teach inexperience. This is your first mission, and it’s already grown into quite the ordeal. Which isn’t necessarily all your fault, either. Be a little easier on yourself.”

She cracked a smile. “Thanks, Callisto.”

He hummed a response.

At least that part was still normal.

-:-:-:-

It took another day to reach a small town at the base of a caldera, but they didn’t deviate toward the town, but rather kept moving toward the caldera.

“The Cursed Caldera they call it,” Ram said.

Ezran didn’t even seem bothered. “It’s cursed?”

“No. Not at all. It’s just the illusions the moon mage puts up to keep humans away, but it’s just a normal caldera otherwise. Well, except for it being the Moon Nexus.”

Andromeda and Rayla took up the rear for a while, leaving Callum with Callisto.

“What will happen to the egg?” Callum asked. It was getting dimmer still.

“I don’t know,” Callisto said honestly. “I won’t know until we get there. Hopefully, Lujanne can help, but I’m not sure… she’s a moon mage and they only deal in illusions.”

“Lujanne?”

“The moon mage that lives on the nexus. She’ll know what needs to be done, but if she can do it will be another story. Storm dragons are only hatched in the eye of a storm. And I don’t know any storm magic that could help.”

Callum gulped. None of it sounded promising.

It took another day to reach the top of the caldera.

The trek up was an experience Callum did not want to live again. Giant spiders, strange creatures and voices. It didn’t seem to faze anyone else, but himself -- even if he tried not to let anyone know. Well, maybe it was obvious. When he looked back at Rayla, she had that little smirk on her face.

None of it seemed to scare her. Rayla was fearless. Callum was decidedly… not. Not faced with giant spiders, anyway. That was for sure.

Near the very top, they finally met this enigmatic moon mage.

“Runaan. As good as it is to see you again, I’m surprised that it’s you who’s up here making a fuss with my illusions.” Lujanne was a dark-skinned elf with the signature white hair of her kind. She wore a set of light green-blue tunics and robes. “What brings you to the nexus?”

Runaan approached her with an air of respect Callum hadn’t seen since coming to know him. “Shelter, if you can provide it. We’re being hunted by a dark mage and someone I used to know. We could use a reprieve from them if you’re willing to provide.”

Lujanne made a face. Worry slipped over her features. “A short reprieve? Too much attention to the nexus could endanger my ability to guard it. I’m a capable mage, but a dark mage and anybody you used to know must make for a formidable match.”

“No longer than a week. We need time to regroup. Gather ourselves. And we have nowhere else to go.”

She was thinking about it. But Lujanne’s face was kind and warm. “Very well. I would not turn you away in your time of need.”

“In return, we will protect you while we are here. Thank you, Lujanne.”

“You’re a good man, Runaan. I know you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t feel you had to.” She nodded. “Will you introduce me to the rest of your team?”

Lujanne knew Callisto and Andromeda, but not Ram or Skor. Then, they came to Callum and Rayla.

“The youngest of the assassins. I knew of you the first time I met Runaan. He mentioned you even all those years ago.”

Rayla’s ears pricked. She glanced at Runaan, then back to Lujanne. “Thank you for letting us stay here.”

Lujanne laughed. “Oh, it’s not a problem. Sorry about the giant spiders. I know they can be a bit of a surprise.”

“I wasn’t scared,” Rayla insisted. She nudged Callum. “But I think this guy was.”

Looking at Callum and Ezran, Lujanne cocked her head. “And you are--”

“A human, I know, but I promise we won’t cause any trouble,” Callum said with hunched shoulders, holding Ezran to him. “I know you’re supposed to guard this place from humans, but we’re not--”

“I was going to ask you for your names, but I appreciate that you won’t desecrate these sacred grounds during your stay,” Lujanne laughed again.

“I’m Callum,” Callum said. “And this is Ezran.”

“The Princes of Katolis.”

Runaan’s voice was hard to read even after all this time. Lujanne’s brows rose. Her face relaxed into that kindness that set Callum at ease. Then again, he was surrounded by assassins who’d been helping them this far. She wouldn’t be a danger to Ezran. He hoped.

“It’s good to meet you,” she said. Her gaze found the ever dimming dragon egg as Ram pulled it out. “It appears you have other things to discuss.”

Runaan nodded. “We do.”

-:-:-:-

Runaan warned Rayla not to eat anything without critical scrutiny. It wasn’t that Lujanne would poison them, he told her when she asked, it was just that Lujanne was… different. Rayla decided to believe him.

While Runaan and Ram met with Lujanne about the egg, Rayla found a place to be alone, just for a little while. She was sharpening her swords under a tree, enjoying the relative peace as brief or false as it was. Callum was taking a well deserved nap and Ezran had taken to Skor as well. Skor was teaching the boy how to defend himself, claiming he was too antsy to rest properly.

Callisto, not wanting to eat something his stomach wasn’t up for after a long journey, took it upon himself to mind dinner.

It gave Rayla time to think.

She thought about everything that had happened. She thought about her parents.

She thought about the guard she hadn’t told Callum about. That nagged at her. Did she have to tell him? Perhaps she didn’t. He might never know. Though she would know.

And she would know that he didn’t know because of what she refused to admit.

Was it wrong? If she was an assassin, then no. She killed in times of necessity. He was going to kill her what was more…

Then, she’d stuffed him in a box. Surely, someone discovered him by now. The body would have started to smell and people were going to notice he was missing. No doubt they’d combed the place through after what happened that night.

She was an assassin. It was her job.

Then, why did it feel so wrong?

When she thought about it, it wasn’t like she was thinking about her part in the mission. All she could think of was Callum asking her not to kill anyone if she could avoid it.

The lie she told .

Maybe this could have been avoided if she just explained it to him, but the idea of him looking at her with disgust. Disapproval. That scared her more than anything.

What would Ezran think? Would he be scared of her? Would he wake up and realize that the people he’d come to care about are all assassins who’d done what she’d done many times over?

Rayla never really had friends. Not really.

The life of an assassin dictated as such. It required her to keep people at arm’s length. But Runaan had Ethari. And he had had her parents.

In the back of her mind, she even knew he had her.

Skor had his wife and daughters. Andromeda had her family. Ram had his. Only Callisto seemed to be a loner, but even he had them. And perhaps some secret partner on the side. Ethari suspected as much, anyway, he mentioned it a while before this mission.

But Rayla’s parents were gone. She doubted they would ever show their faces again.

She only had Runaan, Ethari and this team

She had Ezran, now.

She also had Callum. Losing that… it left an ache in her chest.

Rayla kept on sharpening her blades under the tree. She would talk to Callisto again later.

-:-:-:-

Callum took a decent nap, but not a long one. He couldn’t sleep.

Perhaps because he wasn’t truly safe from Anarr and Morgan. And Viren.

Lord Viren was always there in the back of his mind. The man was like a black cloud since they left Katolis, and Callum couldn’t shake the feeling off of him. Anxiety, dense and numb, coated him like a blanket. It buried itself in the hollow of his chest.

He didn’t know where he’d be without the elves.

Or Rayla.

She always made him feel like everything would work out.

Even in the moments where he thought of Lady Eveline. The woman stayed in the back of his mind as did the sound her death made. Somehow, that was worse than seeing her splat on the ground.

Callum’s imagination played with the image in the back of his mind. Perhaps it was his artistic brain that was too curious. He kept getting flashes of what it could have looked like and each one made him sick. Once, it even made him get up in the middle of the night to go throw up. He didn’t know if Ezran heard him. Ezran never asked and Callum didn’t tell him.

Callum always considered himself fairly open with his feelings. He tried to be, anyway. As a child, his parents would take time to help him understand how he was feeling, and it had always served him well. Especially after the death of his mother.

But this… this was different. His feelings were too raw, his mind too averse to the image set before him by that sickening sound of Lady Eveline crashing to the ground. It was all too much.

All of this was too much sometimes. His life was too different. His friends now were different too. He felt bad for the thought, sometimes, but the way he lived his life these days was too different. When did he become okay with stealing?

When did he make friends with assassins?

But then he thought of Rayla. There was no denying that he was glad she was in his life. At what point did he stop being able to imagine a life without her in it? He didn’t know. He honestly hadn’t thought about it until now.

He also appreciated Andromeda’s affection for Ezran. Even Ram’s. It comforted him and made it a little easier to feel like his baby brother had the support he needed. Different as it all was.

Sometimes, Callum thought of Rayla in the dress from Meraxia and… truly, that had been the highlight of their journey thus far. She enjoyed herself that night. Somehow, that meant more and more to him these days.

Unable to nap properly, Callum went to go find her. Maybe she could show him how she gets her blades so sharp.

-:-:-:-

“Don’t agonize over this.”

“Callisto, but… don’t you ever want to tell someone about the things you’ve done? Even if they’re not…”

“Not good?” Silence. “I don’t have many people to tell or not to tell. The people who are here know. That is enough for me.”

“I guess that makes sense.” Rayla frowned. She wanted to ease her conscience.

“Rayla, Callum will understand. In his own time.”

She sat down on the bed. Callisto was gathering a small set of spices he’d managed to grab from the human town. Bland food was its own kind of demoralization, he told her.

She ducked her head. “How long will that be?”

Callisto sighed. “Telling him is your own choice. But if you choose to, this is all new to him. All of it. You must understand the pain that comes with being forced to adapt to a new life you never asked for. As much as he cares for you, he is still himself and you are still you.”

Rayla opened her mouth to reply, then closed it. He said nothing else. She sat on the bed, her chest somehow hollow and heavy at the same time. The truth ate away at her, gnawing like a termite. It was becoming harder to look at Callum and not be afraid now that they were in a relatively “safe” place where their lives weren’t inherently in danger.

“Rayla?”

Rayla jumped. How had she not heard him? Callum watched her worriedly.

“Callum, what’s wrong?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” He walked into the room, ready to comfort her like he always did. That broke her.

“Callum, wait.” She stood up and put her hands up to stop him. A question formed on his lips, but she stopped him. “I have something to tell you about what happened in Meraxia.”

--

Hi, everyone! Sorry that my chapters have been slower coming. I've been rather busy with the RAYLLUM ZINE. Falling For You: A Rayllum Zine is the first fanzine and I'm one of the mods on the project! I'm the designer mod and I'm putting the book together. We're in full swing with it now, but you can still get it right now! IMPORTANT: Relevant to this fic, I've written a ZINE EXCLUSIVE chapter for Sides of the Moon that you'll be able to read in the zine if you get it! Also, Hanna Hofer, an OFFICIAL character designer who actually worked on The Dragon Prince show has drawn art for a special double-sided standee featuring Rayla and Callum in their formal wear from the Meraxia arc! That's right, you can get Rayla and Callum dancing in their ball gown and suit and have it sitting right on your desk!

Check out all the links you need on Twitter @modxadia and Tumblr @falling-for-you-a-rayllum-zine. Open for a limited time! So go check it out right now!

As for the chapter, we're about to get some fun emotions. This entire arc is important!

As always, thank you guys for commenting and reviewing. You know I love it and it really keeps me motivated to write! Thank you for reading! Tune in for next chapter!

[yaehit]

do *you* miss my engineer and want to relive the c h a o s that was the show?

how about coming on down to ao3 to read my story i’m in trouble (oh i’m in trouble)?

summary: in which king takes interest in the new bus rider and learns not to judge a book by its cover.

alternative summary: where king's just trying to figure out his feelings in a slightly different but mayhaps more intense and realistic world

---

chapter one: good guy

King has his head against the window as the bus pulls up to another stop, an AirPod pressed comfortably into one of his ears. To his left, his dearest (while admittedly at times most irritating) friend Bohn, gushes about some medical student that he saved from a lizard, and how he roped him into giving him a rose every day for a month. Honestly the whole thing feels so fictional, that he doesn’t bother listening. He nods politely at his words in an attempt to feign attention.

Bohn very much doesn’t buy it and slaps King’s arm. The gesture forces King to sit up and defend himself.

As he turns to look at his friend, something, well actually someone, catches his eye.

An unfamiliar, but oh wow, really attractive guy, walks onto the bus. He doesn’t look Thai, but it isn’t the only thing that catches what seems to be not just King’s attention. The aura he emanates simply attracts everyone. His dark hair is cleanly styled, and a dreamcatcher tattoo is inked below his left ear. Many of the passengers look towards the newcomer. However, a steely expression graces his strong features and repels anyone from approaching him.

Most importantly, to King at least, he’s wearing the same uniform as other juniors at his university. His eyes are the last to leave the newcomer; they follow him even after he’s passed by his row.

He has definitely never seen him before. He wouldn’t forget someone like that.

Another slap to his arm grounds him. He shoots what he hopes are very sharp and harmful daggers to his friend. They seem to be the equivalent of feathers because Bohn doesn’t waver.

“Did you see that guy?” King can’t help but mull, “He’s so pretty.”

Bohn squints at him. “Not as pretty as Duen.”

King rolls his eyes. He begs to disagree. Sure, he hasn’t really met this Duen guy but, a voice in his mind tells him that Bohn’s wrong.

So he says that. It earns him another slap unfortunately.

“Listen to me,” Bohn childishly whines

He begrudgingly does until they arrive at their school.

When the reach their customary table, Mek and Boss are already coddled up next to each other. The latter seems to be begging his “husband” to assist him with something. Tee is rushing to finish up his homework for his next class. King can’t help but crane his neck over to look at the worksheet.

“You used the wrong formula here,” he points out, “and there’s a computational error over there.”

Tee lets out a huff of frustration, but thanks him nonetheless. King starts to essentially dictate what to write on the page, not wanting his friend to lose any points in the class.

“Oooo, and who do we have here?”

King turns to look towards Boss, who is staring at Bohn. In front of his friend is an admittedly adorable guy, who he can only presume is Duen. The young man looks somewhat afraid. His dark, slightly curled hair is swept to one side. His features are soft and sweet, attractive in a very delicate way. A lab coat rests over his arm, blatantly decreeing his program. He timidly holds a red rose out to Bohn.

His friend takes it with a smile. He pats the younger’s head adoringly.

“This is Duen,” Bohn introduces to the rest of his friend group. Then he promptly wraps an arm around King. “This is King. The one frantically writing is Tee.” The said boy raises his free hand in a somewhat polite wave. While Bohn introduces the married couple, he turns to King and gestures for him to continue. Only after forcing the other to buy him lunch, does he resume explaining the answers to the questions. As Tee finalizes his answers, Boss announces that it’s time for class.

Bohn waves a small goodbye to Duen and the five seniors are off.

King matches his pace with Bohn. He can’t help but tell him that he’s definitely wrong. Sure, the medical student is cute, but the boy on the bus definitely registers higher on the attractiveness scale.

Throughout the day, he can’t help but keep one eye peeled open, hoping to maybe catch another glance of him.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t.

From that day on, Cool Boy (yes, King knows he’s very creative) steps onto the bus every day, and King can’t help but watch him. At some point, complaints have started coming from Bohn and not King. Part of him wants to ask the junior what faculty he’s in, if he can maybe get his number, and most ideally go out on a date. But also King is so sure that he doesn’t even speak Thai.

One day someone, a foreigner, runs onto the bus very confused, somewhat frantic. From what she says, King can only parse out the words “help” and “lost”. While he does know some English, he definitely isn’t the most fluent, which deters him from wanting to speak it.

As he observes no one stepping up to do anything, he is about to tell Bohn to step into the aisle so he can help her when someone walks briskly past him. Cool Boy. He says something in what sounds like perfect English, and the worry disappears from the woman’s face. After a few words, she gives him her phone, and he types out something.

And that makes him so much more attractive for reasons he cannot explain.

Bohn nudges him. “Why are you so red? You haven’t even talked to him.”

King presses the backs of his hands to his face. It’s warm to the touch.

“I don’t think I can,” King reasons. “I doubt he’d understand me even if I spoke to him.”

The look Bohn gives him tells him that he knows it’s an excuse.

“But look what he just did.”

“Maybe he’s just smart and knows two languages. He wouldn’t be going to school here if he didn’t understand Thai.”

King’s eyes narrow. His eyes follow Cool Boy as he passes by him.

“He could be in the international program for all I know and barely know Thai.”

“Could,” Bohn repeats, “But you don’t know for sure until you ask.”

While he doesn’t want to admit it, King knows that his friend is right. Instead of conceding, he requests that Bohn let him admire this man from afar. In peace.

Luckily for him, he’s able to see him a second time, but he seems to be focused on an odd task. Cool Boy has a plate of food, a mishmash of rice and meat set on the grass. A water bottle in one hand, he seems to be looking for something.

He’s probably trying to feed the campus cats.

King waters a nearby plant with the rest of his cup and approaches him.

“Here,” he says as he sticks the cup out towards him.

Cool Boy stares at him with a very neutral expression. King can’t help but admire him and his strong facial structure, long eyelashes, and perfect nose. He’s relieved once he takes the cup. While the younger fills it up, he pesters him, asking him for his name. Firsts he asks in Thai. When he gets no response, he defaults to English, regardless of how embarrassed he feels. He waits for an answer, only to hear silence. The younger’s only sign of acknowledgment is through his gaze, which has somehow become more intense. He has to will himself to not run away.

But that resolves hits the fan the moment the dog comes bumbling towards the plate.

King’s heart flutters a couple of days later when Cool Boy had walked onto the bus one particularly hot day. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows to reveal an intricate tattoo on his right forearm. While yes, he’s terrified of dogs, King can’t help but admire the ink on his skin. He very quickly latches onto Bohn’s arm, shaking it aggressively.

“Do you see that?” Bohn hums in acknowledgment. King finds himself repeating the statement slightly louder. The gesture was not appreciated.

He’s so inexplicably whipped. Cool Boy looks so put together and so handsome, and mysterious. And very much unapproachable. Maybe his attraction to him will stop when this illusion of perfection breaks.

King is wrong.

The next week, Cool Boy runs onto the bus frantically. Accompanying his loud steps is the fluttering of a piece of paper in his hand. Today, he isn’t put together, or that mysterious looking; his typical stony expression is replaced with panic and worry. Red colors his cheeks and King can hear how heavily he’s panting, even with the pen squeezed tightly between his teeth. His hair is unstyled, bangs hanging lightly over his forehead. His uniform’s tie rests loosely around his neck, and his shirt is buttoned wrong. He looks almost normal; the mistakes humanize him. King’s stomach flutters, but for different, more endearing reasons.

Oh. Is that another tattoo on his chest he sees?

“Oh wow. He’s really cute and hot at the same time. I don’t get it. How,” he turns to Bohn, “How is that even humanly possible?”

Bohn groans, somewhat frustrated next to him.

“Can you not for once?” King waves him off.

“Says you, hypocrite.”

When they reach the table, Duen is already there, a flower clasped in his hands, and next to him is an unfamiliar person. Bohn plucks away the rose and presses a kiss to his boyfriend’s(? Bohn hasn’t officially asked him out but they act like boyfriends, and everyone is pushing him to finalize it, but he ignores them, as per usual) cheek.

“This is Phu,” Duen says, “He’s also in the engineering program.”

Phu slightly bows as a greeting and reaches out to shake everyone’s hands. Tee goes out of his way to firmly clasp the junior’s hand with both of his.

“Duen told me that King was really good at tutoring people,” Phu states, “And I was wondering if he could help me? I’m doing really badly in my physics class, and I seriously don’t know what else to do.”

King’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. He didn’t realize that Duen had been so observant. After the whole homework fiasco, he had begun helping Tee actually learn the information rather than using him as an answer key. The other engineering senior seemed grateful nonetheless, constantly praising him for his efforts. King always replied with it wasn’t him, but that Tee was making it all happen. He truly believed in what he said.

“Sure,” he replies.

“What about Ram?” Phu asks Duen, “I thought he was supposed to meet us here.”

The boy’s expression falls a little bit. “He didn’t finish his prelab last night and said he was gonna wake up earlier today to finish it. I guess he thought he could but then he slept through his alarm and didn’t bother setting up more. He’s probably trying to finish it right now.”

Phu laughs. “It’s what he gets for prioritizing his dogs over classwork.”

Duen shrugs but seems to agree.

Five pairs of eyes, including King’s, stare at the juniors expectantly.

“Ram is another engineering student, and my best friend,” Duen explains, “He also needs tutoring.”

King feels his sleeve being pulled next to him.

“I can tutor Phu,” Tee whispers, “and you can help Ram.”

Confusedly, King asks why.

“Just let me do this once please. And you get less work out of it.”

Tee does bring a good point. But King still doesn’t understand the motivation.

Someone pulls him backward. He looks up to be greeted by Mek’s upside-down face.

“Just let lover boy have his opportunity,” he simply states. Tee slaps their friend’s shoulder, telling him to stop, but there’s obviously no truth to his denial.

With a sly smile he nods.

“I think it would be better if we separated the tutoring. Phu can go with Tee,” King pulls Tee into a friendly headlock, “While he might not understand fluid dynamics, I can guarantee he knows everything up to,” he pauses and reads the title of Phu’s class according to the syllabus he gave him, “General Physics II.”

His friend escapes his grasp and snatches the paper out of his hand. He looks expectantly at the junior, nodding confidently. He hands his phone to him.

King doesn’t know if it’s his eyes tricking him, but as he takes Tee’s phone, Phu’s cheeks seem to turn a little bit red.

“And I’ll help Ram,” he concludes.

Duen grins brightly, an expression that bleeds onto Bohn’s face.

“I’ll tell him.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier for me to contact him?”

Duen sheepishly scratches the back of his head. “He doesn’t like having his phone number given out to people he doesn’t know? I’ll bring him around sometime.”

“Sounds good,” King agrees.

Today, King is alone on the bus. Bohn had caught a cold after jumping into a river in an attempt to save Duen’s sister. Things like this don’t happen in real life. Don’t get him wrong, he doesn’t doubt his friend’s account, especially seeing how whipped Bohn is for the medical student, but it feels unbelievable. He would have his AirPods in, but he hadn’t charged them or the case recently. They died after half a song.

He sits back in his regular seat. At his stop, Cool Boy steps onto the bus. His visuals never seem to fail him. How can someone be that attractive?

Someone waves a hand in front of his face. King, thrown out of his haze looks up.

It’s Cool Boy.

He gestures at the seat as if asking if it’s free. King nods.

When he sits down, nothing else happens.

Right now, he’s overwhelmed by how close he is, and the details of his perfection. Part of him wants to reach out and lightly trace over the tattoo with his finger, but he knows its weird and not socially acceptable to do so.

The ride to school is quiet and unnerving. He wishes that Bohn was sitting next to him, even if he wouldn’t shut up about his love life, and more recently how unexpectedly dysfunctional it’s become.

When they arrive at the stop, King feels like he lets go of a breath he didn’t even know he was holding in.

“You aren’t too bad yourself, you know.”

It’s quiet but in perfect Thai.

Before he can say anything else, Cool Boy has already departed.

Oh. He’s a fool. A very big fool.

He doesn’t bother recounting anything to his friends. They would actually clown him out of existence, and it’s the last thing he needs after a morning like this.

On his way to his regular spot, his phone rings in his pocket. It's Bohn.

“Feeling better?”

“He seems to be,” Duen replies.

“At least he’s not alone,” King says to mask his surprise.

The younger man chuckles.

“It’s the least I could do since it was my fault.”

“Bohn was probably being more childish than your sister. Was he pestering you to pay attention to him?”

Duen sighs. King can feel that he’s right.

“Don’t worry too much about it. He gets too jealous too easily.” King found himself getting pretty frustrated with his friend’s attitude. While sometimes Bohn had his points, Duen not always as pure as he seemed, the push and pull never seemed to end. It discredited the both of them, making King very confused.

After a bit of silence, Duen thanks him for his words. A part of King wants to criticize Duen a little bit, but then he remembers to consequences of upsetting the younger and immediately shuts himself up.

Apparently, the recent incident had made Duen so upset that his friends felt it necessary to intervene. While King thought it was a bit dramatic, they declared that after Bohn had completely recovered from his sickness, he would be subject to a series of trials to prove his love to Duen. It seemed childish until he heard that Ram had declared a boxing match with him. Ram, who was apparently a nationally ranked boxer.

He still hadn’t met Duen’s best friend, and he hopes never to.

Maybe he can slide out of this tutoring gig.

“I told Ram to meet you by your table really soon.”

“Yeah, about that, I’m not sure if I can do it anymore. You know with midterms coming up, I have a lot of final projects and studying to do.”

He hears slight murmurs. “Bohn says you wrapped all of your projects up yesterday. And that you don’t need to study.”

His free hand cards through his hair nervously. Of course Bohn would be honest.

“I don’t think he knows what he’s talking about,” King laughs a little, “The cold might be getting to his head.”

“What am I talking about?” Bohn exclaims, “What are you talking about? You were literally celebrating about being done with everything in our group chat last night. Plus, I don’t think you’ll be too unhappy with the arrangement.”

“Okay now you’re just being vague!” King replies equally as loud, “What are you even talking about? This man is threatening to pummel you into the ground, of course, I’m a little bit-”

King’s voice trails off as his eyes meet with the same ones as less than an hour ago.

And there’s nobody else.

He hangs up on his friend and ignores the vibrations in his hand.

“Are you Ram?”

Cool Boy, well more properly Ram, nods.

if you liked that blurb i have written much more (eight chapters to be precise)! come visit i promise i am v nice.

[illusion-reality-steve]

Rainbow Quest related dream I had last night (4/22/2020)

I dreamt about watching Rainbow Quest last night. It looked exactly the same, like how Sabre usually records it in Minecraft and how the character speaks through the text and Sabre reads those outloud.

But...it’s an AU of Rainbow Quest. Specifically, it was a Mermaid!AU, where all the Steves are mermaids, and Sabre was a human turned into a mermaid so he could to visit and talk to the Steves (I’m guessing the main Orange Steve turned him into a mermaid).

Mermaid Sabre was helping a village of mermaid Orange Steves. And suddenly the dream got turned super intense.

The Leader of the Orange Steves (who btw was a Cecaelia) just turned evil and betrayed Sabre. Later, we see what the Leader has done to the Orange Steves.

He split the Orange Steves into two groups. One was fine but couldn’t move. The other group...they have been traumatized and mutated. The Leader used spells and powers to turn the 2nd group of Orange Steves into humans. The 2nd group got so much trauma from the shock of their gills transforming into lungs, the pain of transforming, and they are also starving.

The Leader basically calls out on Sabre, saying he knows he’s a human. The Leader thinks saving the Steves from the Darkness is hopeless, so he has a plan to turn all the Steves into humans so they can evacuate into Sabre’s world. But he needs Sabre’ s help for that. (This all sounds vaguely familiar. Hmmmmmm)

To raise the stakes, the Leader will either let the humanized Orange Steves die of starvation if Sabre refuses to help him, or kill the unharmed Orange Steves if Sabre takes too long to make his decision to help him get to the human world.

Sabre tells the main Orange Steve to distract the Leader in the classic “run and don’t die while the villain destroys the land around you in an attempt to kill you” method. Orange Steve encounters another evil Steve who helps the Leader try to stop the main Orange Steve (I think it was either the Nightmare King or Elemental Steve). While they’re distracted, Sabre swims up to the humanized Orange Steves to see how they are doing. They are emotionally scarred from the entire experience.

Sabre recognized one of the transformed Orange Steves as a character he met before (in this dream’s timeline/logic): a female Orange Steve named Captain Jordan (Creeper, ah man). She used to be a fierce warrior who defended the Steves, but now feels dead inside. Sabre also meets an aristocratic Steve who always wanted to become human and evacuate into the new world, but now that Steve is unsure and traumatized. He also saw some young Steves who were transformed into human.

I don’t remember what Sabre exactly did, but he eventually talked sense into the Leader.

The Leader was shocked and stopped his evil plans. He released the unharmed Orange Steves. The Leader found a way to make the humanized Orange Steves breath underwater, but he refuses to transform them back to Steves, since he doesn’t want them to get through anymore trauma. He is regretful to say that the humanized Steves are forced to stay as humans, or outcasts.

I don’t know what the Leader does next. Because the dream suddenly shifted to goofy as Sabre broke the 4th wall and talked about all the characters in a meta way and also showed off fanart/concept art of the Steves who turned into humans.

And then all the humanized Orange Steves went to therapy about their trauma.

They probably met Illusion Steve, who was going to therapy about disconnecting from the Steve Saga server.

That is all I remember about the dream.

...Why am I tempted to draw Sabre as a mermaid?

[changingourdestiny]

Beyond Light Part 4: The Lightborn Captain

Summary:

Fireteam Paralight have successfully tracked down Phylaks. But after the baroness mocks Tif for their rank as a captain and association to Mithrax, both she and Fireteam Paralight quickly learn just why she was made a captain in the first place...

Previous Part: Here

Next Part: Here

As Fireteam Paralight entered the Nexus, Phylaks contacted them again, “They say you all are great warriors. Rae, Slayer of the Red Legion. Blaze, Destroyer of Oryx. Marcia, Light’s Shadow. But you I’ve never heard of…”

“I think she means you, Tif.” Berhane whispered. “I’m Tif. Captain of House Light and right-hand of Misraakskel.” Tif replied. “A human captain? Bah!” Phylaks began to laugh, “What a joke.” Tif let out a low growl as Phylaks continued, “You all are built with machine-weakness. God-dependence. You flee from battles you think you’ll lose. Prove you are worth my time.”

Tif muttered a curse in Eliksni under her breath as they continued into the Nexus. “What did Phylaks mean by ‘god dependence’? The Traveller?” Ghost asked, “I don’t feel dependent on or limited by the Traveller. I feel close to the Traveller. Protected. Or…I did.”

“What do you mean?” Rae asked.

“Ever since you got that splinter…I feel further away than ever.”

“Don’t worry. The second this power does anything to hurt you or me, it’s gone. I promise.”

“Thanks, Rae.”

“Don’t worry ya little core, Ghost.” Marcia grinned, “As someone who had Darkness that did hurt them, I can say- WHAT THE HECK IS THAT?!”

Marcia looked on with a horrified expression as she spotted a large Vex marching with a group of smaller ones. “Is that a harpy…with legs?” Rae stared with a confused expression. “Who cares what it is, just kill it!” Blaze called out, gun at the ready.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Rae’s Dawnblade faded from her hands as the last of the Vex burned away as Blaze took out the cube powering the barrier blocking their way. “We should be close by now.” Marcia sighed as she reloaded her gun. “I see now you are a worthy challenge. A chance to hone my blade.” Phylaks’s voice came through once again, “Come find me, machine-spawns. I am waiting.”

“Alright then. Let’s keep pushing.” Rae said as the fireteam made their way deeper into the Nexus. As they did, Rae noticed Tif looking a little peeved. “You okay, Tif?” she asked. “Yeah…it’s just…” Tif began, “Phylaks is wrong. Just because I’m a Guardian, doesn’t mean I’m no less of a captain! And I’ll prove it to her! With or without Stasis.”

“That’s the spirit!” Marcia grinned, giving Tif a playful nudge, “Let’s give her a piece of our mind and let nothing get in our way!”

“Another Brig up ahead.”

“SON OF A-!!”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Fireteam Paralight arrive at what seemed to be piece of land surrounded by radiolarian fluid. Nearly as soon as they arrived, a ketch appeared overhead and Phylaks emerged from it, cackling as she landed on the ground, “I will bring your corpse to Eramiskel. I will forge myself a ring from your armour.”

“You won’t! We’ll defeat you!” Tif countered. “Ha!” Phylaks laughed, “You really think that you, a human playing pretend, can defeat me? I always thought Misraaks was a fool when I head of his ‘house’. But the fact he made a weakling of a human a captain? He’s truly an idiot.”

Tif tensed up, “Take. That. Back.”

“What-?”

“TAKE BACK WHAT YOU SAID ABOUT MISRAAKSKEL!” Tif roared.

“Why should I? He’s an idiot kelling a house of idiots.”

Tif growled, “Rae, Blaze, Marcia. Stay back.”

“W-what?” Rae stared at Tif in disbelief. While her captain-esque mask hid their expression, Rae could make out Tif’s eyes behind the semi-transparent eyepiece that was designed to give off the illusion of Eliksni eyes. Tif’s expression wasn’t their cheery or determined one. It was rage. Tif took several steps forward until they were between their Fireteam and Phylaks. They glared directly glared at the baroness and growled out in Eliksni, “She da hu, et? Sha da go do bo ra!”

Phylaks narrowed her eyes at Tif as Blaze and Rae’s went wide. “What? What’s happening?” Marcia glanced between her fireteammates and Tif and Phylaks. “I recognise that phrase.” Ghost replied, “That’s what Taniks said when he was challenging us in the ways of old. Or at least that’s how Variks described it.”

“Tif’s challenging Phylaks by themself…” Rae muttered.

“Are they crazy?! They’ll get themself killed!” Blaze exclaimed.

Phylaks glared down at Tif before chuckling, “You may be small and weak…but I appreciate an opponent with guts. Come then! Show me what a ‘captain’ of House Light is capable of!”

Tif brandished their arc blade and lunged at Phylaks who managed dodge out of the way and fired at Tif with her own gun. Tif took a few shots to the shoulder but shook it off and fired her submachine gun at Phylaks.

Rae, Blaze and Marcia looked on as the two fought each other. Blaze’s expression was one of concern and fear as she reached for Firelight. Rae stopped her by putting her hand on her shoulder, “No.”

“But-!”

“This is Tif’s fight. If she gets in real trouble, we’ll intervene.”

Blaze, albeit hesitantly, removed her hand from her gun’s hilt, feeling helpless as she watched Tif take on Phalyks.

 “Surprising strength for such a tiny creature!” Phylaks chuckled as she teleported from platform-to-platform. Tif gave chase as the ground beneath them began to disappear, the others following suit but not engaging in the fight. Tif could feel themself running out of steam as they began over-exerting their Light, yet they kept pushing. Rae had never seen Tif like this. In battle, Tif would usually be chipper and easy-going, almost seeming to enjoy the battle and treating it like a fun experience. Now they seemed like a whole different person. Serious, determined, unrelenting, even aggressive to a point. This was it, she realised. This was why Mithrax appointed Tif as a Captain. Tif was more than just an optimistic soul who was friendly to everyone. They’re a strong leader who never gives up on others or themself; who would fight until they reached their limit and would still keep pushing if it meant protecting others; who put the safety of their friends and allies before their own. The best way Rae could describe Tif was the living definition of a Titan; a defender of all.

“GYAH!!”

Rae was snapped out of her thoughts as Tif went skidding across the floor as their helmet tumbled next to them, a large gash carved in it. Tif went to get to their feet but was grabbed by the neck and slammed against one of the blocks jutting up from the ground by Phylaks. Even in their situation, clawing at Phylak’s arm, Tif never dropped their expression. Their eyes wide with rage filling to the brim never looking away from Phylaks’s and their teeth bared as they struggled to break free from the baroness’s grip. “I must say, I’m impressed.” Phylaks began, “For a machine-spawn, you definitely put up a fight and I can respect that. But it still wasn’t enough to beat me.” Rae went to grab her gun to get the large Fallen away from Tif but stopped upon seeing a familiar shard floating above the platform, beginning to glow orange. “I’ll make your death quick as a reward.” Phylaks raised her arm as stasis began to gather in her hand. Tif squeezed their eyes shut as a familiar surge of energy began to swirl within them before letting out an enraged yell as a blast of stasis came surging outwards, sending Phylaks stumbling backwards. Phylaks looked back at Tif who had stasis swirling around them as they glared angrily at her, raising their fist. “I’m. Not. Done.” Tif growled as they clenched their fist which became covered in stasis crystals. “Good.” Phylaks hissed, a grin evident in her voice. Phylaks began to send waves upon waves of stasis towards Tif who swiftly weaved between them while sending out walls of their own. However, Tif seemed to be aiming at different points throughout the battlefield instead of towards Phylaks. That combined with Phylaks’s spikes made it hard for the baroness to move throughout the battlefield…yet Tif was able to squeeze past with ease. “Can you see them?” Blaze asked, desperately searching for Tif in the sea of stasis. “No, it’s too cluttered.” Marcia sighed in frustration, “We just have to hope Tif knows what they’re doing.”

“Hiding, are you?” Phylaks chuckled darkly, “That won’t defeat me, machine-spawn.”

“Nah. Just using size to my advantage!” Tif leapt up from behind a spike towards Phylaks and grabbed onto her face, using their stasis in an attempt to freeze her from the top down. Phylaks roared out in pain as she scratched at Tif’s back. Tif cried out in pain as Phylaks’s claws pierced their armour but refused to let go as Phylaks’s movements began to slow as the stasis began to freeze her in place. “Never call me or my house idiots again!” Tif yelled, “I’m Tif Kariuki the Lightborn Captain! And I will never let ANYONE hurt my friends!” As Phylaks slowly stopped moving, Tif leapt up, using Phylaks’s shoulders for momentum, and with a mighty yell, slammed down onto her with their frozen fist, shattering Phylaks into pieces. Tif landed on the ground amongst the frozen shards, breathing heavily as the stasis faded from them once more. They saw Phylaks’s splinter lying amongst the frozen shards and picked it up before turning to where Rae, Blaze and Marcia were watching, slack-jawed in awe at what they just witnessed. “That…” Marcia breathed, “…was the most badass thing I’ve ever seen.” Tif smiled brightly before picking up her helmet and placing it back on, “Let’s go back. I’m super tired now.”

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 “You guys should’ve seen it!” Blaze beamed as she sat by the fire with Drifter, Marcia and Eris back at the campsite, “I’ve never seen Tif like that! They were all like ‘Rah!’ and ‘Ba-boom!’ and- oh man, you should’ve been there. Phylaks deserved all of what she got!”

“Sounds like you got quite a show.” Drifter chuckled, “Though I’ll admit, wouldn’t have guessed so much rage could fit into that tiny kid.”

“Looks truly can be deceiving.” Marcia added as she looked over at Rae and Tif who were briefing the Stranger on what happened. “And that’s the majority of what happened.” Rae finished explaining. “I see.” The Stranger nodded before turning to Tif, “Well done. You’ve taken to stasis like a fish to water.”

“D’aww…thanks!” Tif grinned, blushing with embarrassment. The Stranger chuckled before continuing, “Eramis’s presence on Europa is not happenstance. Temptation set the wheels in motion, but obsession propelled her here. To destroy the Light with an army of Darkness – she and her followers make those selfish choices moment to moment. The Darkness places a spotlight on our desires as it once did me and those I cared about. For a time, I had forgotten…Humanity relies on our selfless acts to bring about a better world. Darkness is no more than a tool with which we do so. With splinters of Darkness still in hand, Eramis remains an immediate danger to humanity. Look within. Focus your power. Let it grow. The Ziggurat awaits.” Rae gave her a nod before turning back towards the campfire, “Marcia. We’re heading back up to the Ziggurat.”

“I’ma comin’.” Marcia called back as she got to her feet and began following them up to the Ziggurat. The whispers returned as they ascended the stairs. “I want fried chickeeeeeeen.” Marcia whispered, mimicking them. “Eramis stiiiiiiiiiiinks!” Tif whispered back, stifling a giggle. “Guys, knock it off!” Rae giggled. Upon reaching the top, Tif took out the splinter they got from Phylaks and held it towards the shard on the left. The shard glowed brightly as Tif felt another surge of energy flow through her. “Anything?” Rae asked. Tif held up their arm and summoned an orb if stasis in their hand. Their eyes lit up as they turned to Marcia and Rae, “I-I did it!”

“Nice!” Marcia grinned before jolting as she felt another pull, similar to the first time they arrived at the Ziggurat. “You feel that too?” Rae asked. “Yep.” Marcia replied, “Let’s go find another shard.”

 To Be Continued…