#yes that would be crossing fandoms to add him here not my fault one of my fandoms has a gif for everything

[ruiniel]

Prickly thorns, tender roses

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Rating: Mature🔞

Relationship: Alucard/Original Female Character

Characters: Alucard, Original Character(s)

Chapter tags & warnings: injury, assault, POV original character, post-Castlevania Season III, inspired by Castlevania, canon-typical violence, personal interpretation of post-season III Alucard, written before season IV, POV Alucard

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XIV. The only way

She did not sleep a wink the remainder of the night. Ravenna tossed and turned until daybreak, when she hastily dressed and crossed the many flights of stairs through the castle down to reach the kitchen. She hoped to find water and use it to rinse her throbbing wrist, where the creature had sunk its teeth into flesh.

But she found Adrian. A damnable blush of both guilt and unease spread across her nose and cheekbones at the sight of his turned back, and Ravenna thanked the high heavens she had time enough to regain her composure before he turned to her. The happening—sensations included—of the previous night was yet fresh in her mind, and meeting his eyes was now an onerous chore.

“Well met,” the woman greeted, her gaze flitting to the place where she thought the water containers were.

“What do you seek?”

Ravenna noticed the bottle her host held in one hand. She placed her arms behind her back. “Water,” she murmured. “And I would also need use of your supplies...” She lifted her gaze to his. It was yet blank, void of emotion. Not like last night, unguarded and aflame. It was not him. That was nothing but your own troubled mind under dark enchantment. Not him. And there is work to do here.

She nearly jostled out of her skin when Adrian spoke again, finding him much closer than before. “How so?”

“The incubus. It bit me,” she managed.

“May I?”

Ravenna froze. Slowly, she dared meet his eyes, appearing blissfully ignorant of the fresh memory those words evoked. Then they were narrowing, eyebrows lifting in question, and Ravenna gathered she’d been wordlessly gaping at him for too long. She retrieved enough of herself and gingerly produced her wrist, showing it to him.

Adrian made no movement, but his gaze lingered on the sight of her pierced skin. “It is not as grave as you’d think. Water is over there,” he pointed to the buckets.

Ravenna wasted no time heading to grab a smaller container to fill. Something irked her, ever at the back of her mind. “How did you find me last night?” she asked with her back to him. “...how did you know?”

Adrian was retrieving a dark satchel from a cabinet. “Both I and the castle sensed a foreign presence.”

“The castle sensed?…” Ravenna faced him, her curiosity ignited.

“This is not just any castle, Ravenna,” Adrian lifted his gaze to hers. “It has my father’s magic rooted deep within. I had grown wary and went on a swift inspection of the grounds. I spotted the creature… as it was carrying you away,” he added in a darker tone.

“It was my fault—”

“Yes, it was,” Alucard chimed.

“—and I will ask before I act in the future. But you could have mentioned this was a problem,” Ravenna could not help but add, irritation rising at his statement.

“Forgive me, Ravenna,” his voice gained that scornful edge she loathed, “I am not quite so accustomed to housing maidens here, to remember all and anything that wants to either defile, eat or kill you.”

Her face went beet red, but the sudden pain in her wrist was distraction enough, and she had to make haste in its tending.

“Do you wish to eat today?” the question came.

“...” Ravenna blinked, now holding an ewer full of water. “Yes?...” she added with reluctance.

“Then you may want to join me later,” Adrian said. “I assume you do want to know how to forage and find your own food?”

Her belly tightened, feeling hollow. A muted, dizzying spell of hunger gave her the answer. “Of... course, yes...” Ravenna was already walking away. Why would the image of him standing on his knees before her not fade from her mind? His lips, against her skin—

That was not him you fool.

Ravenna shuddered. “What did you see?” she asked suddenly, turning around.

“Pardon?” Adrian leaned against the table.

“When you spotted the incubus, what did you see? I know nothing of how they operate,” she swiftly masked her true intent.

“I saw what you saw, a deathly horror,” came the words, and she could read nothing on his face.

Ravenna released a brief sigh of relief which he missed, and turned to the entrance with fast steps. For once, the vastness of the castle appealed to her.

“Then meet me before the gates at midday?” Alucard suggested in her wake, puzzled by her manner. Of course, an incubus attack left its mark on the victim well into the day from what he knew, as would any encounter with a demon of the void, for that matter. He heard a mumble which may have been a ‘Yes’ as Ravenna sped away.

Odd, Alucard concluded, if he were to compare this to the previous evening, when she surprised him with the impertinent overstepping of her bounds. But he was honest enough with himself to admit his reaction had been more for shock than anything else. The touch of another had become a forgotten concept, and he felt disinclined to change that.

So why even dwell on such drivel?

Why had he seen the image of himself about to devour her last night in the woods? Why hadn’t he told her? There was little sense to it, that was why. Perhaps my eyes deceived me. He had been on his fifth bottle of wine at the time, after all, which was known to cause some distortion of vision. Despite this, he’d rushed to reach his foe in time, keeping at a distance as to not be easily discovered and risk it killing her in wrath. It was only when he neared close enough that Alucard commanded his sword to slay the demonspawn. What he remembered was his own blood pumping up his throat, boiling with unease.

He shook his head, took a deep breath, and rolled his shoulders.

Drivel.

He would not even attempt to understand.

Her swift steps took her to the library dome. Ravenna found the corner with healing supplies and began disinfecting the wound, then applied a a hastily concocted regenerative paste. She wrapped her wrist over the best she could. The flutter of a bird distracted her, and she remarked how one pane of the towering arched window was broken, allowing the presence of such windborne visitors. With this, the previous night came to mind yet again, and the woman at once felt intensely uncomfortable. Her hand went to her middle, fingers digging in.

Why him? Of all she may have wanted or wished for, why did it have to be him? Granted, she had been too fearful of him at first to see or feel what she did now. Calm yourself, Ravenna, she reasoned.��All it takes is keeping one’s proper distance. And he was quite amenable to such, if his behavior in the engine room bore any indication. Yes, she would carry on as before and forget about it all. It was unspeakable, not to mention it concerned one whose mind and heart were completely unknown and hidden to her.

When done, Ravenna pursued the direction of the gates. There was a slight hitch in her step when she beheld Adrian outside, waiting for her. He wore his usual attire, and his sword rested in a scabbard at his hip. A dark satchel hung on his shoulder. It was another rich summer day outside, and she thought its light lent his features an ethereal sort of beauty. He shone with the sun, but he rarely ever smiled. Ravenna found it a pity.

“What are we searching for?” the woman asked as they fell in step together.

“Eggs.”

“Eggs?” she asked with a breath of laughter. Was that what he said?

“Yes, Ravenna, eggs. Mallard eggs, to be more precise. The water places here abound in wild duck.”

“Do they now?” she looked ahead, feeling her step lighten with the surge of summer air around them. “The son of Dracula, embarking on the grand quest for duck eggs!” Ravenna chirped, then covered her mouth though it was too late, and her head shot to the side to look at him. His profile was strained. “Adrian, I’m—“

“Then you wish not to partake,” he said, a devilish innocence in his tone.

“I did not say that!” Ravenna rebutted his sudden wit, then caught herself. Most perilous, this road, as her master would say. “Speaking of feeding,” she tried another thought, “You said before that you had no compulsion to drink blood. May I ask how so? You are half vampire, after all.”

“Is this still a fear of yours?” Alucard asked, absently brushing a fallen leaf from his shoulder.

“More a curiosity of my occupation,” Ravenna offered. “Would consuming blood make you stronger than you are?”

“I told you before I dislike the taste,” Alucard sighed, frowning. “Blood would aid in swifter healing, I reckon. But I do not require it to keep my strength as a full-fledged vampire would.”

“I see.”

“Besides,” he continued as they walked amidst the leafy trees together, “Believe it or not, I was taught not to cause suffering where unnecessary. Does that satisfy your morbid curiosity, scholar?”

Ravenna lowered her eyes in half a smile. She’d begun to like his inflection when he called her that. Since when? “For the time being.” It was warmer than she expected, and removing her outer robe was a significant improvement as her skin became heated from the thick, summer scented air.

Alucard walked leisurely through the grass, allowing the song of the forest to overwhelm him. The sun was ever strong at its highest this early in the season, but they walked in the shade. There was chirping, mewling and growling, reaching him from afar. There was the sway of waters not far ahead, and the forest leaned its brilliance over it all in varying shades of green. And then there was the rushing and grazing of her robe against the tall thistle bushes, and the fresh scent of the blood he did not need; its flavor still eluded him.

After crossing a strip of woods, they reached a large, clear lake, its green banks decked with weeping willow trees. On the waters lingered wild duck with their brightly tinted coats of green, brown, and blue.

Adrian showed her how long to wait, where to go and how many eggs to take to keep things even. One needed not prey on everything, he said. By the end, the satchel was half-full with a hefty number of their quarry.

“We are thieves, you know,” Ravenna grumbled as she gingerly picked two eggs from one nest.

“We do what we can to survive,” he shrugged.

“Well, I suppose—Adrian?” Ravenna looked up.

He was completely still, and despite all she knew of him, faster than she could blink, his hands alighted on her shoulders.

And then she could hear them as well. There was cackling and the desperate sounds of animals being harmed. “Someone approaches. Best you head into the trees, I think. I’ll cover us,” he told her, ushering her away.

“But—” Ravenna whispered, “you don’t even know who they are, or their numbers—“

Adrian’s hand rested on his sword pommel. “There cannot be more than the ones that were pursuing you,” he said meaningfully, bothered by her hesitation. There was no time for such now, and he led her forward. “Wait here, do not reveal yourself and if things go rotten, run to the castle. There are weapons in the study, and potions in the laboratory beneath the library,” he supplied.

The noises made by the intruders grew louder, and he could discern their steps. Alucard smelled it, clearly now: the scent of poisoned blood. “Go,” he urged an uneasy Ravenna, whose hand was unconsciously clutching his arm. Alucard unclasped her fingers and drew away.

Her eyes saying more than her lacking words could, Ravenna turned on her heel, and swiftly ran to take shelter.

No sooner did he see her figure disappear amid the trees than Alucard caught sight of the approaching strangers. Three of them. He shifted into wolf form, commanding his sword to intervene at his cue just as they spotted him.

“By mother’s damned soul, Zsuzsa, another wolf!” the first, a man of considerable brawn with a scruffy beard, spoke when his eyes fell on the animal. He wore dark leathers, and a sword hung at his hip.

“That is no wolf, you idiot, get it!” the other stranger, a tall woman, hailed even as Alucard leapt out of their way beyond the foliage.

The wolf ran, leading them farther and farther away from the castle, the two men ever on his tracks. The pursuit lasted little before he finally decided they were far enough to order his weapon to strike, when something dashed by him. Soon enough he heard it again, a lightning-fast target none could strike.

Alucard evaded another projectile hissing past him, which came embedded into a tree trunk, but uneven terrain caught him unawares and he skidded to the left. He felt a sharp pain spearing through his back, and then everything shattered and changed, including himself. He shapeshifted back to his two-legged form even as he fell to his knees. 

What on earth... he was convulsing. His limbs quaked and ached as he desperately tried to rise, to shift, to run, anything. But all he felt was burning pain shooting from his back, and a crushing, unseen wall caging his powers. He was furious and seething red, gritting his teeth as two shadows loomed above him.

The bearded man and the other stranger had approached, and were regarding their prey. One of them spit to the side.

“So Zsuzsa has yet the unbeatable sense for these critters, Arpad,” the stranger said, watching the other who bore the crossbow, which had struck Alucard.

“Suppose she does. We may get a good sum out of this one yet,” the one called Arpad grumbled, looking at a furious Alucard with narrowed eyes. “Well met, treasure trove,” he drawled, drawing an arrow from a quiver on his back and pointing towards its light grey tip. “Silver,” he grinned as he knelt beside their capture, “and I know few fell things in this world that are as weakened by silver as you seem to be.” He exposed rotten teeth in a mirthless rictus.

Alucard struggled though the pain was excruciating, black drowning the whites of his eyes completely, fangs and claws spearing sharper, deadlier. “What do you want?” he demanded.

The bearded one whistled in mock appraisal, turning to the woman who’d approached them in the meantime. “Well Zsuzsa, I say we got ourselves at least half a vampire, what you reckon? It may just be the one they said roams about these parts, killing people,” and he made a suggestive gesture with his fingers, as though feeling coin. “A better fare for us if it day-walks, methinks.”

The woman smiled, a cold, dour thing. Alucard noticed her eyes were deep and her jaw was grinding strangely. This one was in her prime years it seemed, dark of hair and brow, and her voice was grit and steel. “Take him to camp,” she ordered.

The last Alucard saw was the pommel of a dagger rushing to strike him in the face, before all turned black. When he regained his senses, he felt the deep harrowing burning anew, spiking under his right shoulder blade. He attempted movement, but was restrained on his side. They tied his hands behind his back, bound his legs together. He felt weak and his head was spinning, the pain flaring, as though thousands of needles were being endlessly plunged deeper and deeper into his self. As Alucard struggled, a pair of hard leather boots was planted before his eyes.

“He’s awake,” a male voice muttered.

Looking up, Alucard saw the man with the crossbow. He hissed when heavy hands were digging into his shoulder; he was unceremoniously dragged into a seated position, harshly flung against a tree trunk. He growled in agony as the arrow, still embedded into his back, went through completely.

“Oh, it wails, Zsuzsa,” the one named Arpad grinned.

“Once I am free...” Alucard said, though his words were slurred, his head bobbing forward.

A bout of laughter reached him. “I should like to see you try, blood sucker. Silver rope,” he pointed to the bonds holding the prisoner fast.

Alucard made one last attempt to free himself, coiling and striking forward so suddenly the hunter nearly fell on his behind.

He rose and struck Alucard across the face with his crossbow, leaving behind bloodied gashes which did not heal. Then he reached, taking Alucard by the hair. “There are many people, much more unpleasant than I, who would pay much for a pretty, rotten boy such as yourself—”

“Arpad, quit taunting it and get your carcass over here,” the hard voice of the woman reached his ears.

The other man had approached in the meantime, watching Alucard with interest. “Are there more of you?” he asked.

Alucard bared his teeth in a snarl.

“Bertalan,” the other bellowed a laugh, “You and your unbeatable negotiation skills,” he mocked. “Guard him,” he threw to his companion as he left to heed the woman’s call by the campfire.

“‘Tis you and I now, dark one,” Bertalan scorned ominously, clenching his gloved hand into a fist. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Alucard grunted as a well-placed strike caused his weakened vision to sway, and his head fell back against the tree trunk.

“When our buyers are done with you, you’ll be begging for that crossbow,” he offered. His jaw twitched, and Alucard heard the gnashing of teeth even from his lowered position.

Alucard tried to regain his sight. Enhanced bounty hunters, he concluded. That was the reason he sensed poison in their blood. The elixirs and decoctions they used were fatal to one untrained and unused to their destructive side effects.

Well, this is most unexpected, he thought, with a worrying amount of detached apathy. He cared little for his own life nowadays. Perhaps this was how it should be, for his death to come at the hands of his mother’s people, lowly and abhorrent though they were.

The Vault. The Castle.

What did it all matter in the end, anyway? He’d tried to put it to use, to teach others, to mold it into a new purpose. It all fell to ruin.

You are a cynic, Adrian of Wallachia.

Why those words of all came to mind, and why they had to be hers, he knew not.

Can you truly blame me, Ravenna? Alucard thought deliriously, hoping that by now she was far, far away.

Ravenna ran to the castle, thoughts whirling, stumbling, with her feet melting beneath her. Three of them. There are three of them. Despite his urging to the contrary, she had stood and watched, unable to turn and flee. And before her widening eyes Adrian had shifted into the form of a great wolf, his light amber eyes the only sign as to who it was.

Ravenna had then seen him flee and followed when the stern woman hunter set on the trails of her men, helplessly watching as Adrian was struck by a crossbow arrow. And then he fell, and she witnessed him changing back to his first form, unable to rise. The woman followed from afar when they dragged him away, seeing the direction they were heading into, and how they fastened him with silvered rope which burned through his skin. She had turned, and ran.

How would she do this? Weapons, Ravenna recalled his words. And potions, he said there were potions.

She rushed and searched the study, finding nothing she knew how to wield. Then another thought struck her. She crossed two stairs at a time, fleeing to her chamber and retrieved her dagger, following swiftly through the corridors to reach the library. Once there, Ravenna searched the place. There were a few items left to choose from, but one in particular caught her eye.

She took the flask containing a blue liquid and rushed back towards the gates. There was no time to waste, though she had no notion of how to do this, especially since Adrian had been completely subdued. The only way, Ravenna emboldened herself while feeling miserably inadequate at the same time. She realized in passing irony how she’d said the very same once before, when running blindly into his home.

The cover of darkness was a meager aid, but it would have to do. And she hoped, prayed, his captors would spend the night and were still in the area.

Ravenna rushed through the wood with a hooded cloak shielding her face, shivering, swift and careful as a shadow. She crossed through the pathless forest, her movements shrouded by a moonless night. The faraway howling of a wolf reached her; her skin prickled. He had done the same for her. This is the only way.

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[nicnacsnonsense]

What Stede did wasn't "worse", and it's really fucking gross and pathetic of you to insist that it was.

Stede was traumatized. His actions hurt Ed, but they were not intentional, they were not deliberate. He was in shock, he disassociated. For fuck's sake, the man walked for miles, barefoot. You don't choose to do that.

You know who did, deliberately, choose to leave, and who hurt Stede when he did it?

Ed.

Ed, who never once stuck up for Stede (he never would have burnt a ship down for Stede, he fucking let Izzy undermine his authority and stab him, he let Calico Jack insult him and call him the wrong name), who never listened to Stede (every single time Stede tries to open up to Ed, Ed shuts him down).

I am so fucking sick of this fandom acting like Ed is somehow faultless and perfect when he treated Stede pretty fucking bad, actually, and rather than pay attention to Stede's obvious breakdown he was having on the beach, Ed made it about Ed's feelings and what Ed wanted.

Anon, my dear friend, if I may, I would like to speculate as to what happened here. You came across my post, perhaps it crossed your dashboard, perhaps you stumbled upon it in the stede bonnet or ofmd tag, and saw it as yet another example of everyone in this fandom being against Stede and never being willing to cut him any slack at all. And you felt so angry and frustrated by this constant barrage that you just had to say something. I understand, Anon. Why just the other day I was musing on my desire to go on anon and threaten to bite everyone who called Stede passive aggressive. And that is far from the only Stede take that has inspired that urge in me. You and I are kindred spirits in this, Anon.

But what I am certain you did not do is take a look at my blog and check my other posts before coming to your conclusions about my opinions on Stede. This was perhaps a failing on your part, but I do not fault you for it. Still, I would urge you to go take a peek through my stede bonnet tag now, as I suspect it will be quite to your liking. For what it will show you, and what anyone more familiar with me and my blog would have been able to tell you, is that here it is Protect Stede Bonnet hours all day every day. He is my cPTSD autistic son, who has done some things wrong in his life, yes, but not nearly so many as he is accused of and has been treated very unfairly by the fandom. In fact I suspect the only reason I am not an outright Stede Apologist is there just isn't much in the way of a Stede apologia echo chamber to get sucked into in this fandom, so I am regularly exposed to the opinions of people who think less highly of him.

It's actually very frustrating at times -- if I may vent to you here for a minute, Anon, as I think you'll understand -- because whenever I make a post supporting Stede or criticizing other characters in relation to him, I almost always feel this pressure to qualify it. To acknowledge that Stede still made mistakes too, or that ultimately the evidence isn't completely conclusive and other things could be true, or settle on suggesting equal fault even when I really think that Stede was the party done the greater wrong overall. I just wish I could make a post about how great a person I think Stede is without feeling like I have to add caveats because otherwise no one will engage with it, or they'll come at me accusing me of who knows what. (Not you, Anon. While I would encourage you to come on a little less strongly at least in initial approach and assume people are acting in good faith in the future, rest assured that I received your ask in all good humor.)

Now that I've rambled for quite a bit, let's move on to your actual concerns, yes? To start with let me assure you that I am fully aware of Stede's extremely traumatized state when he left Ed; it is even referenced in the tags of the original post. I am also generally in agreement with you that Stede was dissociating for his journey back to his house, though I know others disagree and I find those interpretations to be perfectly reasonable as long as we are all in agreement that he was not in a mentally stable place from which to be making sound & rational decisions.

As to saying what Stede did was worse, first I wish to make certain I was clear in my original post that I only intended to compare Stede's failure to meet Ed at the dock to Ed's failure to leave the dock to make sure Stede's absence wasn't because he had found himself in trouble. If we do understand that, well then you bring up an interesting question, Anon. How do we judge the morality of an action? Do we base it on the outcomes, the good done and harm caused, or on the intentions of the person acting? If circumstances make it harder for a given person in a given situation to make the right choice, then how does that impact our judgement, especially in situations where so much of the circumstances are internal and we as external viewers have no way of truly assessing how much more difficult it actually is? How much allowance do we make for a person acting from ignorance rather than knowledge? How do we compare an action with certain outcomes versus one with uncertain outcomes?

And that's before we even get to your addition, Anon, of the time when Ed left Stede in episode 8. Because comparing that to Stede's leaving highlights another important part to this conversation; that this is all happening within a fictional narrative where the characters serve as narrative tools to further the story and messages. Now, I believe there is much value in analyzing characters as though they were real people making real decisions and find people who insist characters should always be approached from the lens of being fictional to be perhaps well-intentioned, but frequently rather elitist. Still, there is also value in approaching characters with the idea in mind that they are specifically designed beings who live in a specifically designed world that is presented through specifically designed framing. The framing of these two moments treats Ed leaving Stede as something serious, but Stede leaving Ed as being nearly catastrophic. This framing gets internalized by large portions of the audience, which affects how they feel about each of these actions, which can shape their moral judgement of the actions. And perhaps that was the intended message of the writers, or perhaps the comparison was intended to communicate something else, or perhaps the framing of each of these moments was intended to convey something about the moments themselves, but not in a way that would allow them to be directly comparable.

I'm afraid in all this I have no definite answers for you, Anon. All I can say is for my part, I do still consider Stede leaving Ed at the docks to be worse than Ed staying at the docks and failing to check on Stede. For, while there are aspects of each of these two decisions wherein Ed comes off worse, they are not enough for me to override the fact that Stede's actions were guaranteed to directly harm Ed whereas Ed's actions only had the potential to allow Stede to harm through inaction. As to comparing each of the moments where one of them leaves the other, I truly couldn't say, so I leave deciding which is worse as an exercise to the reader, presuming they find value in such a pursuit in the first place.

Next we come to the other accusations you level at Ed, some of which I feel have merit, but others of which I think are perhaps you allowing your affinity for Stede and desire to defend him get the better of you. Certainly there were occasions where Ed failed to stick up for Stede when, as a good friend and partner, he should have, but I think in your heart you know that it's not true that he never did. Otherwise, what would you call it when Ed stood between Stede and a firing squad and willingly signed away ten years of his life to the British Navy to save Stede?

In regards to Izzy, there is a scenario where Stede did not accept Izzy's challenge to a duel, and in that scenario it would indeed be Ed's responsibility to force Izzy to back down and fall in line. But once Stede accepted the challenge, it was taken out of Ed's hands. He could not force Izzy to bow out of the duel at that point without undermining Stede's own authority to accept the duel nor without communicating to all present that Ed has no faith in Stede and his abilities. Stede chose to accept the duel and Ed is obligated to honor those choices.

To the matter of Calico Jack, I have no defense that could excuse Ed's actions, nor do I have any wish to do so. Certainly a fair accounting of Ed's actions here should include consideration of Jack's manipulations of him and even that Stede's attempts to communicate his displeasure did happen to hit upon some of Ed's own insecurities, but none of that negates that Ed is a full grown man responsible for his own actions and choices and who was perfectly capable of realizing Stede was feeling hurt by what was going on and addressing it, but failed to do so.

And now to your last accusation, that Ed never listened to Stede and his feelings. I will say that I disagree with your specific claim that Ed ignored Stede's clear breakdown on the beach, because I do not see Stede's reaction there as being outwardly extreme enough to constitute a clear breakdown. However to your broader point that fandom in general has it backwards and the lack of communication between Ed and Stede, especially as concerns Stede's emotions, has more to do with Ed's failure to listen than Stede's failure to be open, I do very much agree and have enumerated on it at length, and plan to continue to do so in the future. I even agree that Ed ignored a clear breakdown that Stede was having, though I tie that to Stede's breakdown in episode 4 rather than the beach scene. It's very odd that the perception seems to be that Ed is emotionally open while Stede is not, when the reality is Stede frequently asks after how Ed is feeling, while Ed does not.

And in conclusion, Anon, I do have one last thought to offer in response to one of your comments:

I am so fucking sick of this fandom acting like Ed is somehow faultless and perfect when he treated Stede pretty fucking bad

Girl, same.

[chalkxtabletxtowers]

~Love can make you kill~

•Fandom: Helluva Boss

•Shipping: Striker x Reader

•Warnings: Manipulation (duh), but otherwise none.

The motel was dimly lit as you stepped inside. The last light bulb seemed to have given up months ago and no one seemed to care enough to actually fix it. Many of the rooms you could've gone in, were shut down and tightly blocked with wooden planks. It all looked very worn out, old and neglected, but it was probably also really cheap. This was the kind of place where criminals lived. The perfect place for your boyfriend.

The only thing that shone brightly into the dark, starry night, was a obnoxiously bright neon sign "Hideaway Motel" it said, the E had already given out and stopped glowing. The rest was red and yellow, a color mixture that stung in your sensitive eyes. Under there, it stated "The guy that tried 2 kill u def isn't here"

It seemed like the space wasn't there to add the proper sentences, but it still made sense to you. This all was so obvious and obnoxious, that you genuinely wondered if there were people falling for that stupid sign. You sighted as you stepped inside. There obviously wasn't a receptionist, the owner probably didn't even have enough money to pay for decent workers. How was this considered a hideout? You didn't even try to add a safe into your thoughts.

"There you are. I've been waiting for ya, my Darling"

A familiar voice pulled you out of your thoughts, and you looked up to see the snake demon walking towards you, his boots making loud noises in the creaking wooden floor. "It was so lonely without ya company, especially at the festival! But now youre here, my favorite person in the entire world!"

He hugged you and wrapped his tail around you, and you would've sunken into the hug, like you usually did, but you knew something about the atmosphere wasn't relaxing at all. You just couldn't put your finger on it "I knew ya would come back eventually"

He whispered, his tongue slithering so close to your ear that it made you shiver. "Don't ever threaten to leave me again if you can't pull through with it. And we both know you can't, Darling"

He let go and sat down on the bed, crossing one leg over the other and signaling you to sit down beside him, which you did. He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer once more, talking about the festival and everything he had seemingly experienced. "But you're hurt, Striker."

You noticed and pointed to the bruises in his face "Did something happen to you?"

You genuinely sounded worried, because you were. Guilt crept up on you, guilt for not being with Striker when he apparently needed you. Guilt for letting him get hurt by other people. "Yeah, there was this guy called Blitz on the festival, together with his colleagues from work. And one of them tried to fight me, but he was pathetic and I would've killed him, if I would've gotten the chance to. But fuck did his wife fight back."

You somehow knew this wasn't the whole truth, but also knew better than to ask any invasive questions. Striker wouldn't answer them anyway, or ask if you didn't trust him again. And you didn't know how else to prove anymore that you did.

"I told you not to pick a fight with other people that you aren't supposed to kill. It ends up in a mess and I don't want you to get hurt."

Sighting, you stroke over his chest and inhaled his scent. He always smelled like gunpowder, like hay and the droppings of the animals he took care off. This time, he also smelled like blood.

"I know, I know"

He raised his hands in defense "But ya also know how good my fighting skills are. And the wounds will heal. I'm not sitting here for no reason, Darling"

You just nodded, not interested in picking a fight with him. Not tonight. Not now, that you finally reunited after a argument, that had been your fault. But Striker wasn't very resentful when it came to this, which made everything easier.

"Ohh, Darling, there's this thing I've been wanting to ask you..."

His voice sounded soft, so full of love and affection towards you, that was there somewhere, just his own twisted definition of it.

"Really? What is it? You know I'd do anything for you!"

You eagerly said, watching as he stood up and walked around you and the bed in a circle. It always made you nervous when he did this, but it also almost immediately relaxed you.

"Just look at me Darling, other things don't matter right now. You know how I kill people if I get payed enough, right?"

He asked and you nodded, completely drawn in by him, like a moth that saw a lamp for the first time. You were close to burning your wings, but you didn't notice. His manipulation was too good.

"Yes, of course Striker" you replied, wanting to make him happy.

He just nodded in satisfaction "And you know how you were always against you doing that, which made me really sad, right?"

You nodded again. You had felt guilty for it, as you saw his disappointed glance everytime, but your point still stood. You weren't a pacifist for no reason. "Yes, I know Striker"

He smirked, knowing that everything worked as he wanted. He increased his speed, his tail brushing over your shoulders and chest "There is this royalty of Hell who's been cheating on his wife. Isn't that horrible behaviour?"

He didn't care about that, but he knew you would "And he's a bad influence for his daughter too! Darling"

He sat next to you and took your hands, which immediately caused you to look into his eyes, the wrongest thing you could've done. They were hypnotising in every sense of the word. "Do you want to kill him with me?"

He whispered, eagerly awaiting your response.

"I-"

You did think that royalty had the job to be a good example for other demons in hell. And what he had done didn't sound too nice, and it went against your morals. That, added to his fantastic manipulation, caused you to nod "Yes. Yes I want to kill him with you, Striker"

Striker smirked in success. That's what he had wanted. Seeing his dearest Darling kill send shivers down his spine. It would be amazing! And afterwards, you two could celebrate the victory and your first kill. "That's a good darling."

He gave you a kiss and gently pushed you back, looking at you again "Now. Don't you want to give me a little compensation for being gone for so long?"

You could have sworn you kept the whole motel awake for the night, and as you cuddled against Strikers chest in the morning, you knew you had found the demon for a life time.

[drivingsideways]

Hey talk to me about your top three favourite kdrama women. What makes them special? What's a fic you would like to write about any one of them?

Mystery anon! :D What a lovely ask. 

I’m going to cheat a bit and divide my answer into characters I loved a lot, but do not want to write fic about, because I think the canon gives me what I need; and characters that I loved a lot but NEED TO BE RESCUED ZOMG.  (My fic writing impulses are 50% spite and 50% fix-it )

Caveat being that I’ve still watched only maybe a dozen kdramas, so I’m pretty limited in my knowledge!

Characters that I love a lot, but have very zero fic impulses toward:

Han Yeo-jin from Stranger/Secret Forest: What a delight! What an iconique character! Is there anyone like her? NO. LSY-nim gives us a delightfully complex character, and Bae Doona knocks it out of the park in every single scene, so I’m just happy to be along for the ride. I think what makes Yeo-jin special for me is the intrinsic place of empathy that she operates from.  I think “righteous” is a word that often comes with negative connotations (self-righteous, for eg), but I do think she’s one of the most righteous-in-the-good-way characters I’ve watched in kdrama or any drama. I’m tired of stories that portray goodness as “boring” , as unworthy of narrative breadth or depth, and I love that Han Yeo-jin comes to us like a breath of fresh air in our particular dystopian narratives hellscape. She’s good, but never naive. She’s righteous but never cruel in her moral certainties.  I think that LSY nim, in the second season especially, gave Yeo-jin the kind of arc that character deserved when she’s forced to really dig deep into herself to figure out how she’s going to live in the world in the face of a deeply cutting, deeply personal disillusionment, and I’m really hoping for an S3 to see how that plays out further. 

Goo Hae-ryung from Rookie Historian: Ok, I will admit this may be rose tinted glasses view due to this show being my gateway drug into kdrama, but c’mon! She’s a reader! and a Thinker! And loves her wine! She’s plucky! She’s cute! She’s got a wry sense of humour! She’s got principles! She’s got a solid common sense to her that somehow doesn’t get in the way of her dreaming BIG! Oh dear, doesn’t she sound like the Mary-est of Mary Sues? Good for her.gif,  I say! Anyways, Shin Se-kyung is unutterably charming in this (AS IN EVERY SHOW OMG GIRL) and I just have a huge fondness for free-spirited heroines who get to tramp through the narrative changing the world as they do! 

Lee Ji-an from My Ahjussi: I’ve never had my heart broken more OR restored by any single character. IU is *phenomenal * in this, I think she really stepped up to what the script demanded from her. Ji-an’s weariness, her fear and vulnerability, her prickliness, her anger and her bitterness, and how, despite everything, she fights : GOD. Just. Again, what I love about the writing in this show is that it’s deeply empathetic without being cloyingly sentimental. I think a less, hmm, imaginative writer/PD might have focused on the Lee Ji-an the victim, and while the show definitely tells you in no uncertain terms that she is one,  of both circumstances and a cruel society, I think it refuses to take away her agency over her own life.(Lee Ji-an when we meet her is too busy hanging onto life by tooth and claw to indulge in self-pity, but we also see the toll it takes on her not to be able to say “this is too heavy a burden for me to carry myself and it isn’t my fault”; the show I think approaches Dong-hoon from the opposite side- his emotional isolation is partly a result of his own choices, but he doesn’t see it yet, and so his journey is also about letting people in and sharing the burden, but also recovering his own agency over his life. It’s an interestingly gender-bent arc, which is one of the things I love about this show. )

Ok, can I please add one more?

Hwang Han-joo from Melo is my Nature: She just felt SO real to me. She’s someone who doesn’t have the spectacular brilliance of either Jin-joo or Eun-jung, and struggles with accepting her limitations but not allowing herself to be defeated by them? I love her struggles as a mother, as a working woman in a sexist industry, a woman who’s perhaps having to rethink and reimagine what she wants from romance. I love that she’s a little silly, a lot kind, and an optimist, and just. I just think she’s the bravest of the three, tbh, and I LOVE HER AND I WOULD WATCH A SPIN OFF ABOUT JUST HER (i shouldn’t have faves among the three i know, BUT I DO, IT’S HER, IT’S HER.)

Ok! On to the next section! And I’m going to cheat again because I can’t stop at three. SORRY. NOT SORRY. 

Characters I love and SHOULD write fic for if I weren’t such a tired and lazy bunny:  

Song Sa-hui from Rookie Historian: Oh, girl, girl, GIRL. I love how she fights to snatch her freedom from the jaws of the patriarchy. I love that she unapologetically centers herself while doing that, because she knows that nobody else will.  I love that she’s prickly and calculating. I love that she’s smart and knowledgeable. I am SO HAPPY that she got to carve out a little bit of freedom for herself, even if it also is exile to some degree. She *should * be Emperor Jin’s Prime Minister and steering the ship of state, while also carrying on a tumultous affair with Queen Min Woo-hee, while ALSO commiserating with Emperor Jin about his boyfriend Historian Min Woo-won’s regrettable tendency towards Principles (TM) and masochism-but-not-in-the-fun-way. (This takes up much of his time which is why Song Sa-hui is running the country, of course. It works out well for all concerned, well, except her dad, of course.)

Song Ga-gyeong from Search:WWW: What’s NOT to love about our brilliant, beautiful, emotionally tortured gay icon? Nothing, absolutely nothing. I loved how the show allowed her to be flawed and make bad decisions, and then allowed her to make better decisions and regain control of her life. What I do need to do, of course, is see the CANON LOVE STORY between her and Cha Hyeon through to the end. It must, of course, include at least one baseball game, a lot of tequila and messy beach kisses. 

Oh Ji-hwa from Beyond Evil: Oh boy, this year’s runaway hit cleared the extremely low bar for standard crime/ thriller shows by leaving more than one of its female characters breathing and with all limbs intact, and got called feminist for it BUT it didn’t do justice to any of them in any meaningful way and that never hurt more than in the way they sidelined Kim Shin-rok’s talent by not giving Oh Ji-hwa anything much to do. She’s a tough as nails cop, a loving sister, a devoted but unsentimental friend-and by rights SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE HEROINE OF THIS SHOW. My secret fic fantasy is to rewrite the show entirely by making her , and the two other female characters in non-antagonist roles- Yoo Jae-yi and Im Sun-nyeo- as the central characters, as they investigate a serial killer who targets women.  It’s the only acceptable version of this done-to-death (ha!) genre, I have no idea what the Baeksang jury and tumblr fandom is smoking when they hype the show so much, I want none of it. 

Jung Sun-ah from The Devil Judge: I love her rage, her spite, her passionate defense of women, her style, her sexiness, her rage, her rage, her brilliance, her tenaciousness, her smartness, her clothes, her refusal to hate herself for everything she is and chooses to be, her ambition, her comfort wielding power, her EVERYTHING. Dead, her? NOT IF I HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY ABOUT IT. Here’s what *really * happened at the end of canon- she gets out of the building by planting that lady-like but still deadly gun against Kang Yo-han’s temple and making him lead her through his own “secret escape route” or whatever the fuck it was the show wanted us to believe. From there on out, it’s all sunshine and beaches, and scheming and waiting for the right moment to strike again-though of course, this time around, she also has to reckon with vigilant, tenacious cop Soo-hyun -another character who REALLY didn’t die for manpain reasons and had the good sense to leave her gay best friend to follow his psychopath boyfriend to Switzerland or wherever it is that star crossed lovers in kdrama land meet up on the regs these days- anyways, Soo-hyun and her are in this catch-me-if-you-can epic transnational honest and cute cop-and-beautiful sexy villain chase and yes, they WILL kiss (and more) AND IT WILL BE GLORIOUS. 

*whew *

Thanks for coming to my TEDTalk.

[sheinthatfandom]

Ok so before Ryan Murphy completely takes this season in a whole new direction tonight and it turns out this is part of the Roanoke tv company or this was all some kind of flashback story Ramirez is recounting on devil’s night at the hotel here are my thoughts. this all my own thoughts and feelings yada yada yada. This is all going under the assumption that there is no big gotcha shamayama twist.

The deaths go with how you act/who you are. Ray was constantly trying to save himself, or saving his own neck so... boy got decapitated. While part of me doesn’t like that the first death of the main cast was the black guy he was so f-ing unlikeable by the end that I was rooting for his death. Honestly I kinda expected a metal wire like wrong turn 4.

Birdie oh birdie she deserved so much better. She befriended everyone and was trying to look out for everyone. Tried to talk down jingles tried to protect Xavier even crawling to free him when she was in agony. She had too much heart so she died by someone she saved mercy stabbing her in the heart. That actually hurt to watch.

Xavier, wow I knew Cody would be a fave cause he’s fucking Cody but Xavier needs to be the final girl (you know what i mean) so much more character and depth than Brooke. He loved himself and his face so he lost his lips but hasn’t died. I don’t know if someone like him living with these burns is worse than death. I’m also wondering if that weird moment on the bridge with him and mr jingles where he kinda passes out until brooke finds him was actually him dying.

Chet, ok can we agree muscle man is dead? I know the preview saw him up and about like he’s fine and dandy but that has to be a ghost and his corpse is back on the infirmary bed. cause no one closed his wounds and the adrenaline shot cause his heart to keep pumping. The heart pumps blood, Chet has a giant wound spraying blood therefore that boy dead. But yeah he stabbed himself with steroid needles and then got stabbed with a giant spike. Also quick google search says squirting blood, and pulsating flow means an artery was hit. I’m not a doctor but white boy dead.

Mr shu, idk his name here other than big dick McGee, he is the only one I’m like ehh not sure how to connect with my theory about how you die. He was stabbed in the stomach if it was in his back I could say he watched over others too much and didn’t watch his own back but that got ruined.

I hate that all the real bad guys are women. I get it’s probably a nod to Mrs voorhees but she had a damn good reason and in Montana I can say this fits but between Margaret and nurse Rita (I know it’s Donna but I never disliked a Donna before so I’m sticking with Rita) it’s like ok so is Brooke going to be the seasons true big bad cause it’s seems all the bad guys are women manipulating men into doing evil.

I feel so bad for mr. Jingles I knew he was gonna have a sympathetic backstory like that clown and I was right. Now that it’s established Margaret is the killer I gotta say any scenes with gloved killings but no face shots is probably not mr jingles. Which means when he told Xavier I didn’t do it I think he meant it. I think Margaret came out Xavier in the oven attacked birdie which broke her heart more maybe even killed ray but I doubt that last one I’d have to watch that epi again.i do think once he wraps his head around the fact that he’s not the killer maybe he’ll go on to protect the others from Margaret and Rita.

This is a long ass fucking night and the sky ain’t changing like shouldn’t it have gotten darker closer to midnight and start lightening by now? Maybe this is purgatory, but then I’m not sure how they came into the camp if they’re reliving it. Or maybe once they die on jingles night then you’re stuck in purgatory.... but then how do the living see you. I need that hippie to come back and answer some questions. Also I love how Jonas Shevoore is an anagram of Jason Voorhees.

I am not okay with using a real life rapist pedophile and murderer like Ramirez and making him sexy and supernatural. He’s dead but the victims families are still alive. They don’t need to see a circle jerk over him. Zach Villa is awesome I just wish they coulda made up a killer.

Are any kids actually showing up? I would think no parent would actually send any kids there. Also if jingles didn’t get freed was margaret going to kill all the kids that broke any of the rules? again im finding it hard to believe anyone would send their kids there. i know the internet wasnt around but ramierz knew who jingels was and rita knew him and the camp as well. maybe xavier was the only one to never do his homework. but then again white rita didnt know about the camp either, just idk im going in circles with this one.

I have no idea where the story is going I guessed Montana’s brother being the best man but couldn’t figure out how Brooke didn’t know her/recognize her. So I’m glad they explained that. Sarah Paulson is supposedly coming back so I’d guess it’s as Lana and maybe she’s doing a report on the murders at the very last scene of the season.yes i know reports said she wasnt gonna be in it but reports also said there would be no supernatural stuff this season just horror and Satan bringing back Ramirez and a ghost hippie has made that statement false. this ended up way longer than i intended but since tonight will probably change everything we’ll see if any of my thoughts pan out.

[iclaimedtobethebetterbard]

one chance to change your fate - chapter 4

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: All the sides, character!Thomas, Nico Flores, Dragon Witch (villain) Rating: Teen & up (see Warnings) Relationships: Loceit, Dukexiety, Royality, background Karrot Kings Warnings: Language, some sexual humor/vaguely implied sexual content, a lot of self negativity from Roman Word count: 9278 Notes: a big BIG thank you to my awesome beta @yougoodfahm! 

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

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Chapter 4

Two days later, Logan was awoken by a soft yet insistent ringing in his ears—the alarm spell he’d set up to go off every morning, about half an hour before he and Janus needed to get up. He lifted his hand and snapped his fingers to turn the noise off. 

He turned his attention to Janus, who was still fast asleep, lying facing him on their side; their arms were loosely wrapped around his waist and their face was nuzzled against his bare chest, the warm down coverlet tucked snugly up around their neck. Some of their hair had worked its way free of the braid they wore it to sleep in and instead trailed in wisps along their cheek. Logan reached down and gently smoothed the loose hair back, gathering it together and tucking it behind Janus’s ear; their cheek was warm and soft, their face relaxed. 

Logan tipped his head to press a kiss to Janus’s forehead, gently nudging at their shoulder. “Good morning, dear,” he said softly. 

Janus made a sleepy noise of complaint, shifting closer to him. Not quite awake, but stirring. Logan smiled and shook them again. “Janus.” 

“Mmnh,” Janus grumbled, worming still closer. “G’way.” 

“It’s time to wake up, my love.” Logan kissed their forehead again. 

“Nooooo,” Janus whined, squeezing their eyes tighter shut. 

Logan rubbed his hand up and down their back. “It really is, my dear.” 

Janus wrinkled their nose, still not opening their eyes. “Sleep,” they mumbled. 

“Well, I need to get up, then,” Logan tried. 

As he’d expected, Janus’s eyes flew open and they tightened their grip around him. “No.”  

Logan chuckled. “Good morning.” 

“Mmh,” Janus mumbled, burying their face in his chest. 

Logan stroked their hair and waited patiently for a minute; when Janus showed no further signs of stirring, he let his hand come to a rest on the back of their head. “You never answered my question the other day,” he said. 

There was a pause. 

“What?” Janus tipped their head back to blink up at him in bleary confusion. 

Logan resumed stroking their hair. “Day before yesterday, at dinner. When Roman and Remus were asking about your terribly mysterious partner. I asked you what you thought my favorite thing about you is.” 

“Oh.” Janus blinked some more, seeming marginally more awake. “Obviously my ass.” 

Logan flicked their ear gently. “Dear.” 

“My mouth?” Janus tried with a smirk that was too sleepy to be as suggestive as they clearly intended it to be. 

“Janus. I’m serious.” 

Janus wrinkled their nose and closed their eyes again. “That’s no fun.” 

Logan waited, running his finger up and down along their cheek. 

“I dunno,” Janus mumbled. “Probably something sappy. You’re nice like that.” 

Logan smiled and cupped the side of their face in his hand. “You’re my favorite everything,” he murmured. “How clever you are. How beautiful. The way you notice every little detail. Your fierceness. Your humor. Your gorgeous scales. How stubborn you are. Your smile. Your—”

Janus rolled to lie on top of Logan and kissed him, deep and hard and still a little sleep-clumsy, warm lips sliding against his as they cradled the back of his head in their hand. Logan let his hands rest on their back, one on the small of it and one higher up tracing gentle patterns with his fingers, as he lazily reciprocated the kiss; it tasted of morning breath, but Janus was so soft and clingy and warm in the mornings that they never failed to melt him anyway. 

Janus pulled back, green eyes inches from Logan’s own brown ones. “You taste bad,” they told him with a petty little pout. 

“Somehow, between you stopping me from getting up to brush my teeth and you being the one who kissed me, I fail to see how that is even marginally my fault,” Logan responded, trying not to sound as amused as he felt. 

Janus pouted harder. Logan reached to catch one of their hands in his own, and, with a little awkward maneuvering of elbows, brought it to his lips to kiss. “If we get up, we can both brush our teeth,” he suggested. 

Janus laced their fingers through his. “It’s so cold, though,” they whined. 

“It is not that cold. Living quarters in the palace never drop below sixty-five degrees, and it’s nearly summer.” 

“Shut up with your facts. I’m cold,” Janus grumbled, pointedly grabbing the edge of the comforter and dragging it up to their chin once again. 

Logan conceded this point. Janus did run very cold, to the point where Logan wondered if it was another spillover effect of the curse, like their scales; they were only so warm like this in the early mornings, after a full night cuddled against him under the covers. At any other time, their fingers would be almost icy, and their lips would be cool when they pressed against his. 

“If you let me get up, I can restart the fire,” Logan offered. 

Janus grumbled some more, but rolled off of him, pulling the comforter with them and retreating into it until they were hardly visible beneath it. 

Logan sat up and tucked his feet into his slippers. He rose, bent back down to press a kiss to Janus’s forehead—earning a soft sigh of content—and crossed to the fireplace, still warm and full of banked embers. It was the work of only a few moments to add some fuel and use a simple spell to properly restart the fire. He pulled a pair of breeches and a pale green shirt out of his closet, then moved to the door of the washroom and traced the glyph on the door, activating the water-warming charm he’d set up on it when he’d first moved in. He brushed his teeth and splashed water—not yet more than lukewarm, but he didn’t mind that nearly as much as Janus would—on his face, then changed quickly into the clothes. Buttoning the collar of his shirt, Logan reemerged from the washroom into the bedroom. He picked up Janus’s fluffy yellow dressing gown off the chair they’d discarded it on last night, and returned to the bed. 

“We do need to get up,” he reminded Janus. “And it’s getting warm now.” He offered the dressing gown. 

Janus made a wordless noise of complaint, but sat up and let him wrap them in the garment, pouting up at him all the while. “I hate waking up so early.” 

“It’s nearly nine,” Logan commented with a raised eyebrow, going back to the fireplace to check that the spell had lasted long enough for the wood to properly catch, then to his closet for a waistcoat in the same shade of emerald green as his breeches. 

“Yes, and?” Janus stretched languidly, sliding their toes into their fur-lined slippers as they did so. “I see absolutely no reason to not lounge about in bed all day.” 

Logan gave them an unimpressed look, buttoning his waistcoat. “Darling, we start work in an hour.” 

Janus closed their eyes, pouted, and shook their head. “That’s so boring. There are so many more fun things we could be doing instead.” They held out their hands palms-up imperiously, waiting until Logan crossed the room and placed his hands in theirs. 

“I’ll make you tea if you get up,” he coaxed, as he did nearly every morning, smiling a little at the familiar routine. 

“Hmm, bribery.” Janus gazed up at him through their lashes, raising one of his hands to their lips. “You do know just the way to my heart.” 

Logan moved his hand to cup their cheek, and they leaned into the touch, tilting their head to the side; their braid slipped off their shoulder, exposing the side of their neck. 

He blinked. “Ah, Janus?” 

“Yes, my everything?” 

He moved his other hand to the side of their neck. “You might want to wear something over this.” He passed his thumb lightly over a hickey that was both darker and higher up on their neck than he’d thought it would be last night. 

Janus’s breath hitched at the touch and their eyelashes fluttered. “Ah,” they said with a composure that was nearly uncracked. “That’s probably a good idea, yes.” 

Logan held back a smirk and ran his thumb over the hickey again; Janus let out a half-stifled, breathy sigh, tipping their head back. “Logan.”  

“Yes, dear?” he inquired innocently. 

“That is unfairly hot and you know it.” 

“Oh, really?” He dropped his hands to his sides and took a half-step back. “So, tea?” 

Janus squawked in indignation at the loss of his touch. Logan gave them his blandest smile just to needle them further, offering his hand to help them to their feet. 

Janus sniffed haughtily, but accepted the hand and made their way over to an armchair by the fire to curl their knees up to their chest and pout some more over the general concept of being awake. 

Logan left the bedroom to the living area and put the kettle on, pulling out Janus’s favorite cups and the breakfast tea they both liked. The kettle hadn’t yet begun to whistle by the time Janus, their hair now loosened from its braid, shuffled out from the bedroom, came up behind him, and slid their arms around him, bending down and nestling their face in the crook of his neck. 

“Did you get lonesome?” he inquired, reaching up to pat their cheek once in acknowledgement as he continued measuring tea leaves. 

Janus nodded into his neck, not relinquishing him until the kettle demanded his attention; then they hopped up to sit on the counter and kicked their heels. 

“Do you want to get dressed before breakfast arrives?” Logan inquired as he poured the water into the two cups. Breakfast came from the kitchens, delivered fresh and warm at nine-thirty or thereabouts; it would arrive before long. 

Janus sighed, adjusting their dressing gown. “Probably.” 

Logan set the now-empty kettle down beside the teacups and offered Janus a hand to help them back down to the ground. 

“I brushed my teeth,” they announced, landing lightly on their feet and not releasing his hand. 

Logan laughed and drew them close. “Did you, now?” 

“Mmhm.” Janus grinned and leaned down to press their forehead against his, wrapping their arms around his neck. “You can check. If you want.” 

Logan threaded his fingers through their hair, leaning still closer and brushing their noses together. “But I trust your word, love,” he breathed, and Janus shivered in his arms, their eyes widening noticeably on the word trust . “Why would I need to—”

Janus seized his face in their hands and cut him off with an enthusiastic kiss, pressing close against him and all but drinking him in. Logan smiled against their lips and relaxed into the kiss; their mouth did indeed taste fresh, and their early-morning warmth hadn’t quite worn off yet. They sighed into his mouth and pulled away, a delightfully besotted look in their eyes. 

“I love you,” he told them, for good measure, and relished the pink that sprung to their cheeks. 

“You’re a sap,” Janus mumbled, looking away and putting their hand in his. 

“Indeed,” Logan agreed, following them as they tugged him back into the bedroom. As they rummaged around in their own closet, Logan located the rest of his own outfit—mint green coat, pale yellow cravat, plain white socks, and gleaming black shoes with just a bit of extra height built into the soles. He sat on the end of the bed to put on the socks and shoes, leaving the coat and cravat lying beside him. 

Janus emerged, wearing a yellow turtleneck that would safely hide the hickey on their neck from the princes; the shirt was paired with high-waisted black pants and black suspenders. They wordlessly crossed the room, sat on the bed beside him, picked up his cravat, and held it up. Logan turned up the collar of his shirt obligingly and bent his head. 

They wrapped the cravat around his neck and began tying it with gentle fingers. “I love you too,” they announced after a moment. “What’s the general plan for the day?” 

“Well, it’s going to—thank you, dear,” he broke off to say, as Janus tucked the end of the cravat into his waistcoat and turned his collar back down. He continued, “It’s going to be a rough day for Remus now that the deadline is past and things are really cemented into place. So I’ll be trying to keep the preparations out of his hair as much as I can.”

Janus nodded and kissed his cheek, helping him into the jacket. 

Logan hesitated, turning his phrasing over in his head before he went on. “We may want to try to encourage him and Roman to give each other some space.” Janus had given Logan to understand that Roman had promised to work things out with Patton and his fathers last night; with Roman thus exempt from the competition, Remus was bound to be jealous and upset—not without reason, either. 

Janus nodded. “That shouldn’t be too hard; I’m sure I can just send him out to the gardens and he’ll be gone all day.” They looked themself up and down in the mirror, eyeing their outfit critically, then went back to the closet and reemerged with a pair of black fingerless gloves made of shiny leather. “There,” they said, satisfied, just as there was a knock at the door in the next room. That would be breakfast. 

“Come in,” Logan called. 

As the kitchen staff laid out the breakfast on the table in the next room, Logan fixed his hair in the washroom; Janus, meanwhile, brushed their hair and drew it back in a loose ponytail, then hovered in the doorway of the washroom impatiently until Logan gave them a turn with the counterspace to pull out their makeup and draw on thin, sharp wings of black eyeliner. 

Logan headed out into the kitchen to sweeten the tea he’d brewed earlier; he was just in time to call a “thank you” after the people who’d brought up the breakfast as they were on their way out. He added sugar to Janus’s tea and honey to his, then brought the cups—just reaching the perfect temperature—to the table. He went back to rummage in the cupboard above the sink. 

“Need help?” Janus inquired over his shoulder. He hadn’t consciously heard them come in, but he didn’t startle. 

“I’ve got it, thank you—would you mind serving?” Logan nodded towards the table. 

“Of course.” Janus busied themself filling two plates as Logan pulled down the two jars stored on the top shelf: the hormone replacement potions he brewed in bulk every month. He measured out the potions carefully into two little cups with an easy precision born of some seven years’ practice. He’d become a wizard specifically to study gender-related magic; it was listed as his specialty on his certification degree, which he was rather proud of. He had been brewing his own hormone potion since he’d learned how, partly because it was just a little cheaper than buying prescription potions and partly as a point of pride. Once he’d gotten his official certification four years ago, he’d started making Janus’s potion for them, too. 

Theirs was very easy, based on a standard prescription formula; the finished potion was a shimmering pearly concoction containing a small dose of estrogen and a bit of jasmine flavoring to cover up the bitter flavor that potion bases tended to have. For his own potion, however, Logan had altered the prescribed formula just slightly—a fairly standard testosterone dosage in a potion flavored with loganberry extract that gave it a nice purple color. The flavor was pleasant, but, although he’d never admit it, he’d chosen it more for the name than the taste. (He had gotten into several arguments with Patton, when he visited Janus’s family with them on some of his days off, over whether it counted as a pun. Which, of course, was a ridiculous idea and not true in the slightest. Wordplay was quite different from puns, thank you very much.) He’d only implemented a few small tweaks to his original prescription, based on what Logan liked to call “research” and Janus liked to call “illegal magic experimentation done on your own body, what the actual hell, Logan, do you have no sense of self-preservation at all, you idiot?”  

This was, in Logan’s opinion, entirely unfair; he’d known exactly what the risks of the spells he’d done were, had been confident he could successfully navigate them, and, most importantly, he had been right. He hadn’t harmed himself, and he’d gotten what he insisted was a more accurate measurement of his own physiology and natural hormonal cycles. Based on that, he’d been able to customize the potion even better to his physical needs. The tweaks hadn’t been much, but in Logan’s opinion, they made all the difference. It was simply another advantage that home-brewed potions carried; you couldn’t get this kind of specificity in a drugstore-variety hormone potion. 

It hardly ought to count as illegal when he only ran the research spells on himself, anyway. He understood the ethical concerns of running those kinds of tests on someone else, of course, and would never do that, but he’d known what he was doing! Janus was simply being overprotective. Besides, between himself and Janus, he was the expert with an actual certification. The fact that he’d adamantly refused when Janus, annoyed, had challenged him to run the same tests on themself “to prove they’re so safe” meant nothing. It was simply an overabundance of caution. Nothing more. 

Now, finished with measuring out their potions’ daily doses, Logan sealed the jars and returned them to their shelf, then passed Janus their potion and took a seat at the table. Janus set a plate down in front of him; fruit, toast with his favorite jam, and scrambled eggs topped with salsa, all just how he liked them.

“Thank you, dear,” he said, accepting the fork they passed him. He tossed back his own potion, washed it down with a sip of his tea, and tucked in. He had a long day ahead of him; best to fuel up. 

  ***

  For one single moment when he woke up, Roman was content, staring up at his painted ceiling and snuggling under the covers. The delicate, brightly colored designs on the ceiling were abstract, the sort of art that made the eye jump to seek out patterns that didn’t exist: the perfect spark for creativity and imagination. He usually daydreamed in the mornings, slipping in and out of sleep, until Janus arrived to nag him to get up and start the day. And what better to daydream of than—

Patton. 

Roman was suddenly fully awake, and he couldn’t decide if he wanted more to throw up or to cry. 

The deadline had been yesterday. And Patton had said nothing. Because he didn’t know. Because Roman hadn’t told him, and had smiled and lied to Janus’s face yesterday when he promised he’d tell Patton how he felt and go to his fathers and get excused from the competition. 

And now Roman would have to marry a stranger from some far-off land. 

He suddenly understood exactly why Remus had been so antsy and distraught all month, so irritable and set off by the smallest thing. The competition had all seemed so surreal to Roman; it had been so easy to refocus instead on his near-daily meetings with Patton that he swore were getting more and more openly flirtatious by the hour, and to shove the competition to the back of his mind and believe it wouldn’t affect him. Patton’s face had pinched up with worry whenever it came up, anyway; Roman hardly wanted to upset him discussing it. 

Guilt rolled in his stomach. Patton was going to be crushed. Precious, sweet Patton, who deserved nothing but joy and light in his life—he was going to try and hide it for Roman’s sake, but Roman knew better, and—oh, Janus had been right all along. 

He had been so stupid.  

Roman rolled over, pulled the nearest pillow over his head, and let the tears flow. 

He wasn’t sure how long he cried, tiny little sniffles interspersed with choked sobs, curling tighter and tighter in on himself in a vain, desperate search for comfort, but eventually the tears dried up into a sort of numb horror, his mind circling around and around through worse and worse thoughts. 

Patton was going to cry. Patton was going to hate him. Patton was going to pretend it was okay, because Patton was sweet and kind and thoughtful and so, so good, but it wouldn’t be okay, not even a little bit, and they’d both know it. Patton was never going to talk to him again. Patton was never going to give him flowers again. Never going to laugh at Roman’s stories, never going to light up when he thought of the perfect pun, never going to stumble over his words in an eager, laughing babble as he told Roman about his day, never going to look at Roman like he could be happy forever. 

Roman was going to marry a stranger, and Patton was going to move on and never think about him again, and Roman wasn’t sure which of those things was worse. He could feel the tears and snot starting to dry on his face, but he didn’t care enough to do anything about it. 

There was a knock on the door. “Roman?” Janus called, voice light and far too chipper. They waited a beat, then came in when he didn’t respond. “Time to get up, lover boy,” they announced, dragging the wide drapes open and flooding the room with sunlight. “I was thinking we could—Roman?” 

Roman made a wordless noise of misery, burrowing a little deeper under his covers. 

“Roman?” Janus said again, a distinct note of concern working its way into their voice. They moved over to his bed and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?” 

“No,” Roman mumbled. 

They sat on the bed beside him and lifted the pillow he’d hidden his head beneath. He flinched away from the too-bright morning light. “What happened?” They searched his face, their eyes wide and bewildered, pulling out a handkerchief and offering it as he sat up. 

Roman wiped his nose and looked away, gut twisting with the sudden realization that he really, really didn’t want to know what Janus’s reaction to finding out would be. 

“He—Patton didn’t say no, did he?” Janus said disbelievingly. “Roman?” They gripped his shoulder again, fingers clinging tight with worry. “He didn’t do that. He wouldn’t. Not to you. Would he?” They hesitated, mind clearly racing. “Did your fathers—?” they began. 

Roman shook his head. 

“What happened?” Janus pressed once more. 

Roman winced and curled in on himself. 

“Roman?” 

And there it was. A note of horror. The truth had occurred to them. 

Roman squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, knowing it wasn’t enough. 

Janus took him by both shoulders and turned him to face them. “Roman, what did you do?”  

Roman hung his head. His voice came out in a mumble that promptly cracked and fell to a whisper that shrank smaller and smaller as he went on. “I—I didn’t—Ididn’ttellhimaboutit.” 

Janus hesitated. “Say that again,” they said, rising anger warring with a pleading tone. Pleading with him to say anything else or tell them they’d misheard him. 

Roman bit his lip. “I—” A lump rose in his throat, and he stopped, twisting the handkerchief back and forth in his hands. 

“Roman,” Janus begged, their grip tightening on his shoulders once again, a vice-like pinch through Roman’s silk pajamas. 

Roman looked up at them. They were staring desperately at him. 

He hadn’t even thought about how this would hurt them, too. How could he have been so selfish?  

“I didn’t talk to him about it,” Roman forced through his suddenly wobbling lips. 

The stricken look on Janus’s face would have been enough to make Roman cry at the best of times, and now was certainly not the best of times. As their hands slipped off his shoulders to rest slack in their lap, Roman shrank back, hiding his face in his hands, tears overwhelming him once more. 

“I’m sorry, Janus,” he choked out. 

Janus got to their feet, not meeting his eyes. “Get dressed,” they said tonelessly. They turned and walked out. The door shut without so much as a slam, but Roman didn’t find that reassuring in the slightest. 

He could just hear Logan and Remus’s voices through the door, raised in concerned, questioning tones. Janus didn’t answer them, or if they did, not loud enough for Roman to make out their voice over his own sobs. 

He wanted nothing more than to pull the covers back over his head and cry the day away; but Janus had told him to get up. The least he could do was oblige them. 

Roman took several deep, gasping breaths and pulled himself together shakily, swallowing the tears back until he could wipe his face and blow his nose and force himself up out of bed and across the room to his closet. 

He dressed in the first clothes that came to hand, splashed cold water on his face, tried not to cry again at the sight of his tear-splotched face in the mirror as he brushed his teeth, failed, changed to a new shirt that didn’t have tears and toothpaste dribbled down the front, washed his face again, and after three tries managed to clip back his hair in a half-up style that was still too messy because normally Janus would do it for him. 

And then he sat on the bed, wringing the handkerchief Janus had given him back and forth in his hands, staring at the door. 

He ought to go out there and face the music, as it were. He knew that. 

But he’d just lost Patton. He didn’t want to lose Janus, too. And if he just stayed here, stayed in his room and pretended he wasn’t hiding from the consequences of his actions, then maybe this moment of time would freeze and he could just stay here forever and things wouldn’t get better but at least they wouldn’t get worse, either. 

Roman probably didn’t deserve for things not to get worse. 

He straightened his shoulders as much as he could, took a deep, shuddering breath, and walked to the door, holding the handkerchief tight. Maybe it was about to become a memento of the last time Janus was nice to him. He hoped they’d let him keep it. 

He took another moment with his hand on the doorknob to steady himself, taking one deep breath, then another, then a third. When he still didn’t feel any more steadied, he grimaced and pushed the door open before he could change his mind, emerging into the sitting room. 

Janus was pacing in circles around the room, long legs eating up the distance at a rapid pace, hands gesturing wildly as they muttered to themself, and all their hesitancy and horror from before was gone. Now they only looked furious. Remus was at the breakfast table, munching on a stack of pancakes, worried eyes tracking Janus. Logan was seated on the sofa, back ramrod-straight, shoulders taut, expression serious, not speaking a word. The whole room felt oddly still and silent, Janus’s angry movement the only energy in the space. 

Janus froze at the noise of the door opening for just a beat, then turned on their heel to glare at Roman, crossing their arms. 

He shrank back under their gaze, half of a mind to step back into his room, lock the door, and never come out. Logan was looking back and forth between Roman and Janus, his expression hard to read beyond definitely not good; Remus’s eyes were fixed on his twin. Roman spared him the briefest glance before meeting Janus’s eyes once again. At least Remus didn’t seem mad—although he certainly wasn’t anywhere near happy. 

“So,” Janus said coldly. “You decided to grace us with your presence. How kind.” 

Roman winced. “Janus—” He faltered, having no idea what on earth he could say. I’m sorry didn’t really cover it, but every other option was worse. 

The slight flare of Janus’s nostrils was enough to stop Roman in his tracks, anyway. “What?” they snapped. 

Roman looked at his feet. 

“No, really, what? I’m quite curious. What earthly thought process could possibly have gone through your head leading up to this? Do share your enlightened decision-making prowess with the rest of us,” Janus went on, stalking closer to Roman in a way that made him feel very much like he was about to be eaten alive. 

Roman wound the handkerchief around and around his fingers. “I—I don’t—I’m sorry.” 

“Clearly. But I’m afraid I kind of don’t care about that just now,” Janus informed him, grabbing his chin and making him face them. “Explain.” 

Roman’s tensed shoulders had climbed until they were practically around his ears. But he wouldn’t refuse Janus. Not after that moment of shocked hurt earlier. “I—I didn’t tell him,” he began. 

“Mmhm.” Janus’s tone was as chilly as snow down Roman’s back. They let go of his chin and crossed their arms again, staring him down. “You made that pretty clear.”

“No, I—I didn’t tell him anything.” Roman faltered at the way Janus’s lips tightened, but he forged onward. Too late to turn back now. “I didn’t—I didn’t even tell him about the—the deadline. That I could have gotten out at all.” 

“Oh my god.” Janus threw their hands in the air. “I didn’t think it could get worse.” 

“I thought it wouldn’t be fair to him!” Roman couldn’t help but defend, knowing he sounded hysterical and teary. “I didn’t want to pressure him, I was trying to be mindful of my power, I—”

“You make him the happiest I’ve ever seen him!” Janus snapped, shoving a finger in Roman’s face. “You make him happier than any actual boyfriend he’s ever had before! He’s made it pretty fucking clear he was interested in you for months now, so quit giving me your ‘I wasn’t sure’ bull.” Their voice rose as they went on until they were all but screaming in Roman’s face. “I thought you at least had the fucking sense to act in your own goddamn self-interest when it came down to the line! But evidently I overestimated your brainpower!”

“But I—”

“No. Shut up.” Janus’s hands were shaking, their voice gone low and furious. “Patton is one of the two most important people in my life, Roman. Did you stop to think for a fucking second about respecting Patton’s autonomy in the situation? Think about the way that deliberately withholding critically relevant information would impact his ability to make his own decisions?” 

Roman’s gut twisted. He had not thought of this angle. He looked at the floor again and didn’t speak. 

“Did you ever realize that this isn’t just about you?” Janus went on. “Because it’s not just about you, Roman! Your actions have consequences! You can’t just decide to play the martyr because you feel like it, or you think it’s the righteous thing to do, or whatever the hell was going through your head. You can’t do that to Patton! It doesn’t make you the hero if Patton gets hurt! Do you understand that?” They looked down at the handkerchief he was still twisting in his hands and snatched it from him. “Do you understand how monumentally stupid you’ve been, Your Highness?”  

The tears that had been pooling in Roman’s eyes spilled over. “Yes,” he choked out. “I get it.” 

“Do you? Do you really?” Janus demanded, hands on their hips. 

“I know!” Roman sobbed. “I get it, Janus! It’s my fault and I was stupid and now you hate me and Patton will too and it’s my fault! I know! I know I just ruined my whole life and his too! You don’t need to explain to me why I’m stupid! Okay?” He gulped in air, the sensation in his lungs all wrong, just like everything else about this moment. “I know,” he repeated, voice cracking. 

Janus was silent for a moment, their expression hard. “I don’t hate you,” they said tersely. “I’m monumentally angry with you, but I don’t hate you. Clear?” 

Roman didn’t know how to formulate a response to that. “You d—don’t?” he hiccuped after a pause. 

Janus made a face, shoved the handkerchief back at him, and crossed their arms. “You’re my friend,” they said as he wiped his tears away again, though their tone didn’t soften from its stony prickle at all. “I’m not throwing that away overnight. You know, unlike how you decided to throw Pat—”  

Logan cleared his throat, and Janus cut themself off almost instantly, their eyes flying to him. 

“I get the feeling you might regret whatever you’re about to say,” Logan commented mildly. 

Janus blinked. “I—you’re right. Thank you.” They looked back to Roman. “I... apologize for that last bit. It was... uncalled for.” 

Roman wasn’t convinced that anything they could say to him, no matter how much it hurt, would be uncalled for just at this moment, but he was too choked up to form words. He waved his hand vaguely. 

Janus was silent for a moment. “I… listen.” The furious edge was gone from their voice, and their breathing had steadied, but Roman thought this new, deadly serious tone might be worse; it was so much more calculated and intentional than the angry shouting of a moment ago. “I care about you, Roman. But if you break my brother’s heart, I don’t know if I’ll be able to forgive that.” Janus turned away from him, arms wrapped tightly around themself, and Roman realized very suddenly that their shoulders were trembling.  

“Janus—” he began, reaching out instinctively but catching himself before he could lay his hand on their arm. 

Janus shook their head, still not looking at him. “I don’t want to hear it.” Their voice shook ever so slightly. 

Logan fidgeted in his seat, staring at Janus with a surprisingly distressed expression, his eyebrows knitted together, but he didn’t say anything. Remus was sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest, half-eaten pancakes forgotten in front of him. 

“What—” Roman began. He hesitated, not sure if it was the right thing to say, but he felt he had to say something. “What should I have done differently?” 

Janus spun back to face him again, face flushed and eyes filled with barely-held-back tears. “Anything!” they snapped, fury coloring their voice once again. “What is so hard to comprehend about that? Would even an ounce of communication with literally anyone in this situation have killed you?” 

Logan got to his feet. “Janus. Roman. I do not intend to invalidate either of your feelings in this moment, but I fail to see how this is at all healthy for either of you at this point.” He sighed. “Would it help to—” 

“Shut up,” Janus and Roman snapped in unison. 

Logan recoiled, looking shocked, for just a second; then his brows drew even closer together than they had already been, and his lips pressed together in a frown. He crossed his arms and lifted his chin just slightly, looking away from them. 

Janus hesitated, something like regret flashing across their face almost too quickly for Roman to read it. “I—Lo—”

“What’s going on?” Thomas’s voice said. 

Roman jumped, but he seemed to be the only one surprised by the new arrival. Looking over, he saw both his parents by the door, taking in the scene. 

“Your son is an idiot, that’s all,” Janus responded to Thomas in a cold tone, fists clenching at their sides. 

“Janus, you are speaking to the kings!” Logan interrupted frantically, his former anger melting away into alarm. 

“I’m well aware,” Janus snapped. “If they wanted me speaking my mind to always be a nice thing, they should have thought of that before they raised their child to be so self-centered and hell-bent on self-sacrifice!”

Nico leaned over and whispered in Thomas’s ear; he received a nod and stepped out of the room. Thomas, meanwhile, clasped his hands in front of himself, raised his eyebrows, and gave Janus and Roman his full attention.  

Janus hadn’t stopped ranting. “He can’t get it through his thick skull that being happy is good or that his actions have consequences and that he’s not the only one affected by them! And I don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to fix it this time!” 

“You don’t have to—” Roman began.

Janus glared at him. “Yes, I fucking do! And not even just for you! For Patton! Do I have any idea how to fix it? No! I was totally unprepared for this eventuality! I thought you had this handled! I didn’t think you’d make it worse, you nitwit!”  

Roman winced and fell silent once more. 

“Sorry,” Thomas said, “who’s… Patton?” 

Janus froze and pinned Roman with an icy look. “They don’t know about him?”  

Roman looked away. 

“What the hell, Roman?” Janus demanded. 

“I was shy about him!” Roman defended. “I was going to tell them eventually!” 

“Is he some kind of game to you? Some sort of toy to string along for fun? Not even important enough to tell your own parents he exists?” With each accusatory question, Janus took another step towards him, backing him towards the wall. 

“No!” Roman shook his head frantically. “No no no no no—I just—I mean, have you told your dads about your boyfriend? It’s embarrassing!” 

Janus flung their hands up in a bewildered, aggravated motion. “Yes, I have! Obviously! Ages ago! We’ve been together for years, I bring him home all the time!”

Roman blinked. “Wh— years?”  

“Yes, I—” Janus inhaled. “You know what, he is none of your business! We are talking about you and Patton right now, and every time I think I have a handle on how badly you’ve messed this up, it gets worse.”  

“Alright,” Thomas interrupted. “I still don’t understand what’s happening, but let’s all take a deep breath and sit down and sort out whatever’s upset you all so. Come on. Everybody find a chair. Let’s go.” 

Janus, who was trembling again with what looked like barely-held-back angry tears, took the armchair nearest Logan, and Thomas took one across from them. Roman made his way to the sofa; Remus hopped up from the table and plastered himself to Roman’s side, protectively wrapping his arms around him. 

Roman tensed for a moment; he wanted a hug, very badly, but part of his brain insisted he ought not accept comfort when he’d upset Janus so much. That part, however, was quickly overpowered by the fact that Remus was as clingy as an octopus, and Roman was clearly getting the hug whether he wanted it or not. Roman relaxed, which wound up prompting a fresh burst of tears now that he wasn’t focused on trying to hold them back. 

Remus only held Roman tighter, to the point where it was nearly uncomfortable, resting his chin on top of Roman’s head; he didn’t even make a teasing comment about “waterworks.” 

As Roman got his tears under control once again, he realized that Remus hadn’t said anything for the entire morning so far. Quiet Remus was practically unheard of, and never a good sign. Roman frowned. 

“Are you okay?” he whispered. 

“Look who’s talking.” Remus thumbed at Roman’s cheek, still wet with tears—not quite wiping them away, but still a comforting gesture. “I dunno. I’ll—” He hesitated. “I’ll tell you later.” He let go of Roman, but left his hand on Roman’s shoulder, a grounding weight only a little bit sticky with the syrup he’d poured on his pancakes. 

Roman nodded and looked back up; Thomas was watching the twins closely, concern plain to read on his face. Logan was drawing back, as if he’d just been leaning forward a second ago. Janus was leaning forward, with their elbows on their knees; they were raising their hand to their face to brush away the tears that had spilled down their own cheeks. If Roman hadn’t known better, he’d almost have thought the two could have been holding hands a second ago. 

As Nico came back in—Roman couldn’t be sure what he’d been doing, but he suspected it had been some sort of arrangement to clear the family’s schedules for the next hour or two—Thomas beckoned him over to sit in the chair beside him. The two clasped hands, and Thomas leaned over and murmured something Roman couldn’t make out in Nico’s ear. Nico nodded. 

“Okay.” Thomas turned back to the rest of the group and took a deep breath. “What’s going on?” 

Janus, Remus, and Roman all began talking at once. 

“I didn’t mean to—”

“—thinks it’s funny to go around playing with—”

“—both need to fucking cool their tits—”

“—I was only trying to help—”

“—can’t believe he would be so—”

“—they keep yelling and yelling and it’s not even funny—”  

“—and I’m so so sorry—”

“Whoa!” interrupted Thomas. “Okay. Everyone take a breath.” He turned to Nico. “Alright. How do we want to do this?” 

“Hm.” Nico considered this for a moment. “Logan?”

“Your Majesty?” Logan inclined his head. 

“Could I get your perspective to accompany all this?” 

Remus let out a small snicker, which he quickly stifled. 

“Roman, Janus, we’re going to hear each of you out,” Nico clarified. “I just want a quick rundown of what’s happening first, and it seems like you’re both feeling... a little distressed for that right now.” 

Janus gave a small, terse nod, not meeting anyone’s eyes. 

Logan took a deep breath, clearly weighing his choice of words. “Well. I am not directly privy to all the details, of course, and that should be kept in mind. But my understanding is, roughly, as follows. Roman has—actually, hold on. Roman, may I speak freely on this matter?” 

Roman blinked. “I—yeah.” There was no point now in trying to wait until introducing Patton to his fathers could be a joyful, celebratory moment. 

Logan nodded once. “Thank you.” He turned back to the kings. “To my understanding, Roman has been, to some extent, romancing Janus’s brother Patton, who works in the palace gardens, for some five months now.” 

“But—” Roman began. Logan was oversimplifying!  

“Roman,” Nico said gently, holding up a hand, still looking at Logan. “Wait your turn, son.”  

Roman bit his lip and fell silent. 

Logan nodded and continued. “Each of them has demonstrated extreme reluctance to openly discuss their feelings with one another for reasons unknown to me, to the point where… well. Where yesterday came and went without either of them doing anything to cement their relationship and remove Roman from the competition. Janus seems quite upset by this, I believe mostly out of concern for Patton’s feelings—” 

“He can’t just—” Janus burst out. 

Nico opened his mouth, but Logan beat him to it. “Janus,” Logan said gently, much more gently than Roman usually heard him speak to them. “I am in no way attempting to belittle you, or your brother, or your relationship to him, or the consequences Roman’s actions will bring, or the way you or Patton feel about this. I merely intend to give the kings a brief rundown of the concrete events that have taken place so they are better equipped to understand. Alright?” 

Janus held Logan’s gaze, something hard in their expression trembling and melting away, leaving them with a startlingly vulnerable look in their eyes. “Alright,” they whispered, closing their eyes. 

Logan nodded and turned back to the kings. “Janus had been under the impression that Roman and Patton intended to make their relationship official yesterday, but that did not actually occur, I believe partly because Patton was unaware that leaving the competition was an option for Roman at all. This morning, after we learned what took place, we sent for Your Majesties. While we waited, Roman and Janus proceeded to participate in a screaming match, mostly in the form of Janus lashing out and berating Roman about his treatment of their brother, and Roman accepting it unquestioningly in what seemed to me to be a concerning form of emotional self-flagellation. This lasted until Your Majesties arrived.” He paused, clasping his hands, then nodded to himself. “I believe that is all.” 

“Wait, what?” Janus said, blinking. They stared at Roman. “You were what?”

Roman squirmed uncomfortably under the sudden attention. “You were right,” he mumbled. “I messed up. It made sense to let you say whatever.” 

“What—like, using me as a way to punish yourself?” Janus, for some reason, seemed distressed by this, their voice pitching high. 

Roman just shrugged. 

“Roman!” Janus snapped. 

Roman fidgeted with the handkerchief, not meeting their eyes. “What?” 

They spluttered for a moment. “You can’t do that!” 

He frowned. “Why not?” 

“I— what do you mean, why not? It’s shitty, that’s why not!” 

“But—” Roman began.

“Okay,” Thomas interrupted again. “Break time. Janus is right, that’s not healthy, Roman, but we can discuss that in detail a little later.” He looked at his husband. “I think we can spare a few hours, don’t you? This does seem like a family emergency.” 

Nico nodded. “I was thinking the very same myself. You and I are already free until at least noon, and I think we can potentially extend that by another hour or two if we need.” 

“Alright.” Thomas looked back to the younger four, his eyes settling on Janus. “Janus, it seems pretty clear that the hurts between you and Roman went both ways. I want to make sure we allow you to process however works best for you. Would you like to stick around while we all work through what just happened, or would you like to take the day off and deal with your emotions yourself for today?” 

“Can Patton have the day off too?” Janus asked immediately. 

“You said he works in the gardens? Of course he can,” Nico agreed. “I’m sure we have plenty of gardeners, that should be fine.” 

Janus didn’t hesitate. “I want to go home, then.” 

Nico nodded. “Go ahead. We can discuss what happened between you and Roman privately with you tomorrow and help you work out a solution, alright?” 

Janus was on their feet and moving before Nico even finished speaking. “Yes, fine, absolutely,” they tossed over their shoulder, heading for the door.  

“Janus,” Thomas called. “Make sure you’re taking the time to care for yourself, too.” 

“Mmhm, of course.” Janus didn’t sound particularly sincere. 

“Janus?” Roman worked up the courage to say. 

Janus froze in their tracks, not turning. “What?”   Their voice was much chillier than it had been speaking to his fathers.

“Can—can you tell him I’m really sorry?” Roman’s voice dwindled smaller. 

Janus sighed. Their shoulders slumped slightly. “...Maybe.” They walked out the door and shut it behind them. 

Logan stared after Janus, then glanced at Remus, then Roman, clearly struggling with something; he looked beseechingly at the kings. 

Nico smiled slightly. “Why don’t you take the day off, as well, Logan?” 

“Thank you, sire.” Logan practically bolted from the room. “Janus!”  

There was silence for a few seconds after Logan’s departure; Thomas and Nico seemed to be having a conversation with only their eyes. 

“Alright,” Thomas said, offering Nico his hand as both men moved to the couch by their sons, “let’s talk about it.” 

  ***

  Janus was halfway back to their and Logan’s rooms by the time Logan caught up with them. He wordlessly offered them his hand, and they clung to him as they walked the rest of the way back to the suite. 

The moment the door was closed behind them, Janus crumpled to their knees, too worked up to even properly cry; Logan sank down beside them and drew them close. 

They hid their face in his shoulder, clinging to him with all their strength. “I thought it was going to be fine!” they burst out after a minute. 

“I know.” Logan’s arms were firm around them. “I know, dear.” 

“Patton doesn’t even know,” they went on. “How am I supposed to break it to him?” 

“I would suggest that his favorite tea be involved,” Logan responded reasonably, “but I also get the feeling you meant that rhetorically.” 

Janus chuckled in spite of themself, taking a deep breath. They looked up, making sure they had Logan’s attention. “I’m sorry I told you to shut up earlier,” they said. “I know you hate that. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it.” 

Logan hesitated. “Emotions were running high. I certainly understand doing something in the moment that I wouldn’t choose in a more rational mindset.” He glanced away. “I… I admit that it did… sting. But I know you didn’t intend it maliciously.” He looked back, meeting their eyes once again. “I forgive you, dearest.” 

“I love you,” Janus told him, only stumbling a little over the words. At a better time, the look of startlement on Logan’s face at them saying it first would be absolutely delectable; they stored that information away to process at a later date. 

“I love you too,” he responded, cupping their cheek in his hand. “What do you need before you go to pick up Patton?” 

“My wallet,” Janus said. 

Logan’s brow furrowed. “Don’t you have that on you?” 

“No, I left it in the dresser, I wanted to wear tight pants and putting things in my pockets ruins the look.” 

“Wh—Janus, we’re supposed to carry our IDs on ourselves at all times when we’re on duty!” 

“Nobody ever asks for my ID.” Janus waved at their scales. “They just recognize me and understand that I have a higher level of clearance than they could ever dream of.” 

“Dearest, that’s illegal, you can’t just—”

“Are you saying you don’t appreciate the way I look in these?” Janus challenged, smirking. Flirting and teasing, after all, was so much easier than confronting the emotions the last hour had stirred up. 

Logan paused, clearly torn. “I… did not say that. At all. And that’s actually irrelevant to my point.” 

Janus pursed their lips. “Darling, I need you to understand what’s more important: a silly little law that nobody cares about anyway, or me looking hot?” 

“I—what? Clearly the law that is designed to protect our safety and that of the royal family, Janus!” Logan made a bewildered gesture. 

“Interesting.” Janus raised a sly eyebrow. “So there are other laws you’d be willing to rank below my appearance in terms of importance?” 

“Dear,” Logan said helplessly. 

Janus relented. “I’m teasing. Don’t worry.” 

Logan nodded. “Alright. You need your wallet. Anything else? Keys? Hat? Cardigan?” 

“All of those, yes. And that should be everything.” Janus leaned their head on Logan’s shoulder, reluctant to leave his arms. 

He cradled them close. “Remember how a few days ago you told me I didn’t need to work so hard?” he asked. 

Janus raised an eyebrow. “Yes, and I remember exactly what you answered, too, so if you’re about to turn that on me, I want you to know that you’re being very hypocritical. Also that I’ll be incredibly insulted that you would ever imply I would work, let alone hard or on purpose.”  

Logan blinked several times. “You—we literally have a live-in job, what are you talking about?”

“Irrelevant.” Janus waved their hand. “Continue.” 

Logan was still hung up on his confusion. “You voluntarily spend a decent amount of your free time behind the counter in your fathers’ bakery! What do you mean, you don’t work?” 

“No, I—oh, nevermind. It’s about maintaining my reputation as a terribly high-maintenance spoiled little piece of eye candy, love, not about what I actually do. What did you want to say?” 

“I— what?” Logan said helplessly. “Who thinks that of you?” 

Janus sighed, trying not to laugh. “Nobody. I just like it as an idea. You were saying something about me working too hard, probably?” 

“Oh.” Logan nodded, clearly refocusing. “Yes, exactly. It isn’t your job to tend to every emotional need of the people you love, you know.” 

“Hmm, I don’t like the sound of that.” Janus wrinkled their nose. “What if instead I pour all my energy into manipulating every situation to protect them from even the slightest harm, and then have a total breakdown when something I can’t control happens?” They spoke lightheartedly, jokingly, sounding a little sarcastic, knowing that Logan would parse the barely-hidden vulnerability out of the sentence anyway. 

Logan put his hand on their arm, looking them in the eyes. “Roman and Patton are both adults. They can handle themselves. Even through rough patches. It’s not your responsibility to protect them from everything.” 

Janus whined a little, leaned forward, and pressed their face into Logan’s neck for comfort, breathing in the scent of him and feeling his warm skin against their cheek. “But I want to.” 

He stroked their hair. “I know. And, as you yourself just said, if you pour all of your energy into doing so to such a great extent, you then break down when you run into the inevitable failure.” 

Janus pouted. “Hey, you can’t use my own words against me, that’s illegal.” 

“Like not bringing your ID to work is illegal?” Logan said, and Janus didn’t need to see his face to know the way he was raising his eyebrow. 

“You’re terrible,” Janus told him, trying not to smile. 

“I love you, too,” Logan responded, shifting and offering them his hand as he got to his feet. “If you want to catch the next trolley into town, you’ll need to get going to pick up Patton soon.” 

Janus nodded and leaned in to press their cheek against his in something that wasn’t quite a kiss but carried the same energy. “You don’t mind staying behind?” they inquired. 

Logan hummed thoughtfully. “Well. I am loath to leave you in such a state of distress, so in that sense, yes, I mind very much. But this seems like an incredibly personal family matter, and I doubt I am close enough to Patton for my presence not to feel like an intrusion to him.” 

Janus wrinkled their nose, but didn’t say anything. Logan was probably correct, even if Patton would never say so aloud. 

“I will be fine,” Logan assured them. “I’ve been meaning to brew some more sleeping draughts for the palace stock, anyway, you know how long they have to sit before they’re fit for use.” He squeezed their hand and nudged them towards the bedroom. “Go on, dear. Gather your things.” 

Janus located their wallet and keys; then a black sunhat with a broad, round brim, because they burned easily; then a long, drapey black cardigan, because they always got cold on the trolley with its open windows. 

“I’ll see you later,” Logan told them by the door, holding both their hands in his own. “Good luck. I love you. Remember that it’s not your responsibility to fix everything.” 

Janus leaned down to kiss him goodbye. “I love you too,” they whispered. In a more normal voice, they added, “I’ll try and be back tonight.” 

Logan nodded, and they left him in the doorway, looking after them as they started towards the garden in search of Patton. 

It might not be Janus’s responsibility to fix everything, but that didn’t mean they weren’t going to try, anyway. All they had to do was figure out how.

taglist:

@the-sympathetic-villain

@crazydemigod666

@nightweirdo

@private-snippers

[otomefoxystar]

The One - Chapter Six

Fandom: Kissed by the Baddest Bidder

Pairing: Eisuke X OC ( Charolette)

Warnings: Abuse, Kidnapping, Pregnancy

Nothing could have prepared Eisuke for the panic he felt when he woke up and realized Charolette missing wasn’t a dream. He had fallen asleep at his desk leaning back in his office chair. His neck and shoulders hurt from the way he was sleeping. Soryu stormed into his office.

“ Did you sleep in here?” He asked, shocked. No answer.

“ Do you have any idea what time it is?” Eisuke looked at his watch 10:38. Fuck, when was the last time he slept this late?

“ I know you’re worried about Charlotte, but you have got to pull yourself together. We are all worried about her, but we have the black dragons and the police at our disposal.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“ I know. I know. It’s just we HAVE to find her Soryu.”

“ Okay, let’s gather everyone together so we can come up with a plan, after you shower.” Soryu had a suspicion that there was something more to the story that Eisuke had intentionally left out.

When Eisuke finally came down from his room, everyone looked at him with worried expressions. He took in a deep breath and sat down.

“I just can’t shake the feeling that it could be the same person that attacked her.” Baba blurted out. Soryu looked at him.

“ Hmm, I wonder. Eisuke, the attack happened here so the attacker would either have to be a guest or an employee, correct?”

“ Yes, that’s right. I’ll have Kenzaki get a list of all the names for that day. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before.”

“ Because you’re a goddamned mess,” Mamoru stated. Eisuke ignored his comment and went back up the stairs to his room.

“ I think he blames himself.” Baba glared at Mamoru

“ I’m not gonna walk on eggshells because his feelings might get hurt. He needs to stop being a princess. I’m gonna go to the office, call me when he gets those names.” Mamoru got up to let himself out.

“ I understand what Mamo is saying, but I think boss is really depressed. He isn’t himself.”

As soon as Eisuke sat down at his desk he called Kenzaki to get the names he needed. He couldn’t imagine what was happening to Charlotte right now. He wondered if Baba was right maybe it wasn’t someone after him, but who has been after her this whole time?

—————————————————————————————————

Morning and night seemed to run together, Charolette didn’t sleep well if at all that night. She dreaded the moment that Yuri would come in, she needed to figure out how to escape. There were no windows where she was, she wasn’t even in a house. It was like she was in a garage or somewhere for storage. There was a bed and a bathroom, but nothing else. It was cold and the only light radiated from a single lamp hanging on the ceiling. She went to stand up, and upon standing she realized she was attached to some kind of chain that extended up to the ceiling and was hooked to an iron like collar that was around her neck. She could move around freely, but unless she could somehow get out of the collar she wouldn’t be escaping.

Her hope dwindled and she heard the door open. She looked over to see Yuri bring some food into the room. He set it on a plastic bucket that was next to the bed.

“ Eat” It was not an offer, it was a demand. She looked at the food, and as much as her body craved nutrients she was hesitant to eat it.

“ I didn’t poison it, I wouldn’t do that. I love you.” Had she heard him right?

“ You would do this to someone you love? kidnap them and restrain them? That isn’t love.” He glared at her, and she cowered, then he smacked her across her face.

She rubbed her face, where he had hit her. “ You will learn your place woman! you are not to speak to me in such a way.” She picked up the fork but stopped as she looked at the meal that was in front of her. “ Why aren’t you eating?” He came up close to her face. “ You will eat it, every fucking bite unless you want a repeat from a moment ago.” She began to slowly eat until the plate was empty “ That wasn’t so hard was it ?” He took the plate “ I’ll be back later, I have to go to work. I’ve brought you some magazines. He set them down on the bed and left locking the door once again.

She heard him start the car and drive away, and her situation suddenly became very real and her eyes filled with tears, and she began sobbing into the pillow. Tired from sobbing, she fell asleep. Hours had gone by and she wondered how she was going to eat lunch if he was at work. It makes sense now that she knew she was pregnant. Her increased appetite could be problematic. She decided she should spend her time looking for a way to get out of the chains she was in. Going into the bathroom she noticed an ugly bruise on her cheek from when he had hit her.

She looked at the device locked around her neck, if only she knew how to pick a lock then maybe she could get this thing off, but she didn’t know the first thing about picking a lock. Things seemed so bleak, she clawed at her neck yanking turning whilst crying. She sank to the floor into a crying mess. She stayed there with her back against the tub with her legs drawn up against her chest. She didn’t know how long she had been in the bathroom, but she heard the door unlocking and she had to steady her heart. “ Charlotte are you in the bathroom?” He went into the bathroom and he saw her huddled on the floor. “ Charlotte?” She looked up at him “ Please let me go, Yuri.” He chuckled. “ Haven’t you figured out that is never going to happen?” Tears stung her eyes. “ Why are you doing this Yuri? What do you want from me?” He squatted down and caressed her face, she flinched. “ I want you, I need you all to myself. You are always with that fucking CEO Ichinomiya or that blond artist asshole. He took you away from me once, that’s not going to happen again.”

She looked at him in disbelief “ Do you think so poorly of your employer?” He traced the bruise on her face with his fingertip. “ They took you away from me.” She swatted his hand away. “ I was sick, they took care of me. You attacked me, you tried to rape me! If Ota hadn’t been there then you would have succeeded.” He laughed again “ Well he isn’t here to save you this time, is he? I have you all to myself.” He smiled “ You're fucking deranged, no matter what you do to me I will never belong to you!” At that, he hit her again and laughed maniacally. “ You are a feisty one I’ll give you that, but soon you will learn that your place is here with me. Your dinner is waiting for you…When you’re ready.” He turned and left, locking the door once again.

She finally got the energy to walk back to the bed where she saw her meal on the plastic bucket, as much as knew she should eat, she didn’t have the motivation. Then her hand went to her stomach, she had been so wrapped up in the situation she was in that she had forgotten about her pregnancy. She took in a deep breath and sat up straight eating the dinner that was made for her. Her stomach didn’t settle well and she rushed into the bathroom retching the food that she just ate. She wiped her mouth and wondered what would happen if Yuri was to figure out she was pregnant?

——————————————————————————————————

Eisuke handed the list of names to everyone when Hikaru walked in seemingly out of breath. “ Are you alright?” Luke asked “ No, no I’m not! This was delivered at my house.” He opened a small box and dumped out the contents onto the coffee table. “ It’s Charolette, whoever has her is taunting us.” There were pictures scattered across the table of her bruised and beaten with a black eye, a swollen and bruised cheek, and a split lip. Then there was a picture of the collar attached to her neck.

“This could be fatal to her current condition.” Soryu swallowed thickly “ Fatal? The amnesia, how?” Luke looked over Eisuke, and it clicked for Mamoru “ What are you two not tellin’ us?” Luke shook his head “ I can’t it’s patient, doctor confidentiality.” Baba furrowed his eyebrows “Isn’t this a special circumstance?” Luke stood his ground “I can’t” Hikaru looked between Luke and Eisuke “ But Eisuke seems to know” Eisuke stood up “Because I was there” Eisuke looked around “ None of you are going to let this go are you?” He sighed “ Okay” Luke glared at Eisuke “ It’s fine, it would have come out eventually.” He cleared his throat. “Charlotte's pregnant” Soryu studied Eisuke, and he contemplated his behavior lately. “And you're the father” Eisuke chuckled “ I sometimes forget how perceptive you are Soryu.”

Ota shot up out of his seat “ It’s true? Are fucking kidding me!?” Baba stood up and squeezed his shoulder. “ Ota” he shrugged off Baba’s grip “It’s not confirmed, I don’t know who else she’s been with. It only happened once.” Ota moved in towards Eisuke “ No! She’s not like that, she doesn’t sleep around. She hasn’t had a boyfriend in almost a year. And not to mention as far as I know you two aren’t in a relationship and have never have been” Hikaru came up behind Ota “ Ota calm down, we all want to find Charlotte.” Ota had a crazed look on his face “ No, this doesn’t add up. You forced her to sleep with you! Eisuke sighed “This is ridiculous! I didn’t force her to do anything.”

Eisuke crossed his arms “You used the fact that you own her as leverage. You didn’t give her a choice.” Eisuke inhaled sharply “ I cannot fucking believe you! Why Charolette, you could have any woman you want so why choose Charolette?” Everyone looked at Eisuke expecting an answer. “ Because I knew she wouldn’t screw up. I had to convince these people that we were in love, that we were together.” Ota started laughing “It’s all coming together now. That’s why she got so drunk that night. All of this is your fault, all of it. For her getting attacked, the amnesia, and on top of that, you got her pregnant! Now she could lose the baby YOU put inside of her, how much of a douchebag can you be!?” Then Ota closed the distance between them and punched Eisuke right in the jaw. “Fuck you Eisuke! You better fucking find her!”

Soryu went to go after Ota “No, let him go.” He said wiping the blood from his mouth. “He’s hurting just like the rest of us” Baba interjected Eisuke stood up straight “ No, you’re wrong Charlotte is the one hurting, we are merely worried we can only fathom what she is going through. Question the employees first.” Eisuke began to walk off “ you’re in love with her.” Baba stated it wasn’t a question but a fact. Eisuke paused for a moment, but then continued up the steps. Baba smiled, seeing that as confirmation.

When Eisuke closed the door he knocked over a chair in frustration. He knew Ota was right, he had forced Charolette to sleep with him for his personal reasons. She fell pregnant, ended up with amnesia and it was all his fault. All the torment she had been through was his fault.

When they rescue her he's going to let her move on with her life without him in it. It was what was best for her, even if she was still pregnant. He would give her enough money to live a happy life with their child in peace without any interference from him. First, though he was going to find her and he was going to ensure her safety and take care of the scum that took her. Then…he would let her go.

[clansayeed]

Hey Jack! I wanted to know what your thoughts are on Rheya. Was she really a villain to you? Were her motives justifiable? Was she a good villain? Did you think she deserved to have a redemption arc in chapter 16? What could have been written to make her have a better character story? Any thoughts at all about Rheya!

FOREWARNING: Anon... I accidentally wrote you a 2500 word essay. I shit you not this thing is 2,528 words long. So... I don’t know whether to say you’re welcome or I’m sorry. Just letting you know in advance.

ADD-ON POST-POSTING: I’m fully aware this is an app game. A three book series written with sexying vampires in mind. Where the medium is limited both size and content-wise, where you can’t go into much detail because they can only have so many panels in a chapter, etc. Still thinking what I think though. And if you get paid to create content professionally the least you can do for your own paycheck is go back and double-check your work.

Actually this ask came at a good time since I have to work on some character motivations for her for my series... and I always break down the in-canon versions before working on my own. So anon, let’s talk... are you a mind reader?

Kidding! mostly

So. Rheya.

I actually just finished my first replay of book 2 and at the moment I’ve only ever played book 3 the once. I played it as it was releasing so there were some memory gaps in some places and needed-refreshers in others. But on a whole I have similar thoughts about Rheya as I do Xenocrates, and you can find those thoughts here.

Overall she was a solid setup, good design and potential, and PB pretty much wasted her execution.

I wanna start with a genuine question to the fandom since I’ve never actually been able to ask this... but y’all like... totally saw the Bloodkeeper being related to her coming, right? Like I was so convinced of it that when it was revealed in some big dramatic point at the end I was like “yeah... they told us this...?” and it turns out they fuckin didn’t??? Like I could not understand the people who were like super into her sprite like yes she looks good but here I was thinking she was our ancestor from the get-go so I was... confused to say the least.

Not gonna lie when they started pushing in snippets of Rheya’s past trauma in book 2 (things like her yelling “you know what they did to me/took from me” which is paraphrased but you know what I mean) I really hoped they weren’t gonna do what they did. So of course they did it.

But I wish they’d like... just given her the kid. Just give her Iola and leave the weird suddenly random husband out of it. At this point we know Gaius has an unhealthy idolatry for her, we know Xenocrates adored her in his own way in his youth... but we know fuckall about Demetrius up to and including his existence until literally book 3. Sloppy, IMO. They took something not being mentioned and used it to put in a plot device when the omission should have been strategical.

TBH I thought the whole “you know what they did to me” was gonna get hella dark RE: Rheya and King Kaelisus’ obsession with her. That’s as far as I’ll go there.

But you have a Priestess, a known Priestess, who was definitely faithful enough not to stray even when she thought she was walking to her own death. It’s pretty easy to assume (as I did ngl) that she would be completely devoted to Phampira, including romantically/sexually. It would have been a good setup to explain why she never gave Gaius the goods if anything.

And there’s nothing wrong with having said Priestess have her own family while still being devoted. I just wish PB would have used some fucking forethought and hinted at that earlier on than they did. Because they didn’t hint. They dropped this random fisherman-something husband on us and told us she cared enough about his opinion to make him part of her advisory board but not... to like... mention him in any of her conversations in any of the flashbacks... including those in which he would have been alive.

On that note the whole timeline there is really messy, they obviously threw him and Iola in later on after some things were established/couldn’t be taken back. I’ve studied this shit extensively and it’s really muddled exactly how long Rheya ruled, when shit went down with her family, how much time had passed when Xenocrates staked her, etc.

I would have loved for Iola’s father not to have been there. Give me a strong woman, a strong single mother, who would burn the world for the loss of her daughter. Doesn’t matter who did the deed, Iola was hers and the Sons/Order took that from her and the world would have to pay the price.

If I had been given that I would end all of my complaints right here. I would, genuinely. Because then her descent into madness, her paranoia, her megalomania would all have been explained. And they still technically are but -- maybe it’s just me -- there’s something about her having to factor in Demetrius that just... takes me out of it. IDK.

I didn’t mind the guy... though him being a talking tree of doom was a little much for me... though by that point I had accepted the plot was off the goddamn rails and just kept nodding and going with it. But his presence made the story okay when his absence could have made the story impactful and powerful and emotional. That’s just my thoughts. Which you asked for. You did this.

No takesies-backsies.

Was she a villain? Hells to the yes.

It’s a classic case of obtaining ultimate power and abusing it; of crossing the line between justice and vengeance. Not that she wasn’t justified in her freak-out over the death of her family. But everything after up to and including her fatal feeding schedule was totally unnecessary. For a villain, yes necessary. 

For a vampire goddess who could have easily used Gaius’ influence over the vampires of the modern world to form a cult following around herself with an open dialogue about her big ass appetite and probably would have ended up with swaths of willing adorers ready to lend their blood to her cause thus eliminating the need for secrecy and subsequent feeling of betrayal...

You tell me.

I feel like she was definitely more than a little hyped up though. Not even going into my whole-ass issue with the entire Unchained plot and thus the first like 4-5 chapters of book 3, she was hyped up in myth and kind of a let down in person. She could FLY. Walk in the SUN. Heal the DYING. She’s vampire JESUS.

*ADDED IN LATER: She took out THE ENTIRE ORDER OF THE DAWN, WHO HAVE RAVAGED THE VAMPIRE POPULATION FOR LITERALLY 3000 YEARS since they were around in her time after all IN LIKE A THREE-MOVE COMBO BREAK. ALL THIS SHIT THEY HYPED WITH THE ORDER and their entire ERADICATION isn’t even an ON-SCREEN THING. Unless you pay.

Dude if they had kept Xenocrates and the Order and used the two of them against each other; the Order’s long-standing influence on the modern world versus the new world Rheya wanted to create with the human populations not knowing the history behind their hatred, where like the first half of the book is Rheya and MC and gang taking out the Order and Xenocrates only to find out in the middle point that she’s been doing it for selfish reasons and they were on the wrong team the whole time and THEN Rheya becomes the big bad... I would have enjoyed the shit out of that.

Anyway. “She’s vampire JESUS...” and her big evil plan is to... suck face on national television? IDK. It didn’t play the mood right for me. I can see from a writer’s perspective how they kind of played out all of their options and went with a quick and easy solution... but it didn’t work for me. That’s a no from me dawg.

Do I think she deserved a redemption arc? I don’t think anybody deserved a god damn redemption arc, unless they are done with extreme care and attention to detail before/during/after said arc they go horribly, and overall tend to be the plot device pick of lazy writers.

And I take nothing back. No like I think I might have gone into how much I fucking hated Gaius’ “reDEmPtiON aRc” before or at least I have somewhere and to someone. Probably Sofia... no most definitely Sofia. But anyway. They spend TWO GOD DAMN BOOKS hyping Gaius as this ultimately irredeemable bad guy. 

OMG I was literally playing the book 2 finale and got a quote hold on... HERE. Adrian literally says about Gaius in 2.16 “It’s like there’s no humanity left.” And that’s just one actual example of the tons of times they make him out to be devoted to Rheya of his own volition, the ultimate example of the line between believing in something and being blinded to everything by it, etc. Like a huge chunk of Kamilah’s and Adrian’s arcs RE: Gaius are about how he was definitely a monster, he turns the people around him into monsters, and while they have worked their asses off to be good and right their wrongs he has not, will not, and would not ever do such a thing.

Then suddenly he’s brainwashed, tried to turn Rheya down and was made into a loony toon because of it, and everything he made MC’s loved ones do that they blamed themselves for but needed to blame him for is suddenly Rheya’s fault and now we should blame her for.

Mmmmmkay sweetie. I’m good, thanks.

But really -- that was the last straw for me when it came to both Gaius and Rheya. There’s a difference between giving the villain something they see as a just cause (ex. Rheya avenging her family) and giving the villain a cop-out that absolves them of guilt (ex. Gaius and... everything about him). Like yes I know MC didn’t have to forgive him, I know Kamilah didn’t really forgive him, but it’s pretty fuckin obvious from how it was put out into the world story that the writers were trying to lean you towards blaming Rheya and letting Gaius off the hook.

I mean... making him save Lula for real when Rheya saved her for fake earlier on in the book, using Lula as a stand-in metaphor for her own child daughter that she finds out she was the cause of her death for, etc? That symbolism is so transparent I could put it in the asset database.

And I’ll only briefly touch on this since I could write a whole other essay on the matter RE: PB and their fucking constant repetition of this, but “let’s give both bad guys similar moral quandaries but suddenly reveal it was a consent issue and the woman is wholly to blame and now gets the man’s crimes piled on with her own” is super common in fiction and hella. fucking. sexist.

But that isn’t to say all of this is necessarily bad.

When done right, everything I’ve complained about above can be a part of a really good story. What “done right” means is different for everyone, everyone has a different example and different thoughts on it. These are mine. I think the better term would be done well. It was not done WELL.

But given things like PB’s weird obsession with redeeming the attractive (apparently) bad guy, PB’s history with narrowing a woman down to one trait or part of her (ex. Rheya’s power corruption centered around her role as a wife and mother and not... a super all powerful vampire goddess...), their obvious lack of attention to detail and overall lack of vision when it comes to the big picture* and more, I personally don’t think they knew what the fuck they wanted by book 3 and were already well into transitioning into whatever adultery-obsessed lingerie shenanery they’re fixated on now; so much so that it’s almost a disservice to the writing done in earlier book 1 and a decent chunk of book 2 when calling it a whole series.

*I keep bringing this up only because it means I can back up stuff like this with real examples of theirs: these guys did not write the plot of this series as a cohesive story. I get that, as a writer writing a big series myself I get the fuck out of that. But you have to solidify some things early on in the development process in order to avoid writing yourself into a hole or, like with this, having to result in trope-y plot devices that work in theory but on paper don’t give the story the full-circle fulfillment it deserves. 

Their timelines are out of whack, they contradict themselves in quite a few places, constantly wishy-washy their own lore, and definitely didn’t go back and double check if they’d said something already... and that’s not including where they focused on the details of one unimportant thing and left another more important thing to just be “and this is the way it is moving on.”

I literally have no way/idea how to summarize any of this bullshittery going on in this ask. Did I like Rheya? The character personality, design, and overall idea as this big ass badass power/hungry goddess demanding fealty was pretty cool. Did I like Rheya when they narrowed her story down to her grief over her family (which, again, is valid, but just seemed really disjointed and rushed when compared to everything else they had given about her/shown of her by the beginning of book 3)? Not... as much.

I think they wanted her to seem like she could be redeemed. I mean FFS in the “big battle” she literally just stands there and lets you do the thing. 3000 years imprisoned and however many centuries before that spent taking the power that she was denied all because some bad dudes in masks killed the mortal husband and daughter you would have eventually lost to old age anyway...? And she just stands there??? 

Even knowing she was really behind Iola’s death they could have stuck with the “madness consumed” plotline and had her be like well... what’s done is done back to taking over now thank you.

But sometimes a bad guy just has to be a bad guy. Rourke from ES, mister capitalism -- can’t remember them trying to redeem him. If they had I don’t think I would have liked it so much. Who else... UGH. Thomas in NB. Crazy zombie man wants all monsters dead because one killed his family (can we stop using dead families for grief porn please and thanks...) another example of a useless villain. Hence why I removed him from my NB rewrite don’t even get me going...

What’s his face in TCATF! Luther! You join up with him and he still tries to kill you in the end! Now that was fucking classic. Hex, who suddenly is forgiven for the literal enslavement of a race of people and the thoughtless murder of a civilization that didn’t agree with her.. and all because she was ‘like a mother’ to the kid genius? Not so much.

I could go on and on and go search out tons of examples but in the end the one thing you can say PB does well is that they stay consistent in their ideas of redemption, of who deserves it and who isn’t, and just how far they’re willing to stretch the fucking story to forgive a character if 1. the sprite is hot or 2. the sprite had a little sprite family somewhere in there.

legit just talk to me about bb/nb

[onthesandsofdreams]

Stress Cleaning

Fandom: Wonder Woman (Movies) Pairing: Diana x Steve Rating: G Summary: Diana, stops and looks at him. “My department is getting a cut.” He winces, Diana works in the local museum. It’s not as known, or as famous as The MoMa or The Met, but they have a great deal of good things. That’s how they met, he’d gone to do some research on ancient history and Diana had been the one to help him. “Are you loosing someone?” “Two of my team,” Diana says, defeated. Words: 785 Notes: Written for fictober-event, prompt #20. “did I ask?” 

Read @ AO3

Steve arrives to their shared apartment to find chaos waiting in the living room. His eyebrows shot up immediately, there are boxes everywhere and bags of clothing. Not an inch to spare. He sighs, no matter how long he’d known Diana, he was still finding surprises.

He leaves his jacket atop one of the bags, his cross-body on the floor near the sofa and walks towards the kitchen. And finds further chaos, pots and pans all over the place, cookbooks piled high and the pantry opened. Diana stands in the middle of it, hands in her hips, as if she could order things back into place with her will alone. He fights the urge to laugh, can’t avoid the smile that curls up in his lips. “Oh Diana,” he sing songs.

Diana spins, eyes wide in surprise. “House cleaning.” She says, her tone brokers no arguments. Not that he’d have one, they do need to clean the house top to bottom, but he was expecting it during a weekend, not in the middle of a work week.

“Did I ask?” He keeps his tone light and teasing, even with the mess, he finds that he can’t quite be angry. Diana’s good at cleaning and she does have a better organization system than his.

“No,” Diana laughs at hearing his voice. “But you needed to be informed anyways, you do live here, after all.”

“That I do,” He agrees. Then walks towards her, looks around. “And how is the Queen of Cleaning doing?”

Diana snorts. “Better now, but exhausted. I didn’t realize that I had so many things I wanted to get rid off. Everything in blue boxes is donation, green boxes are undecided and trash bags are trash. Now, the kitchen doesn’t need much, it’s just a question of organizing better. But I did tossed away some food that was way pass its date.”

“Oh?” He knows what is coming.

Diana levels him with a look. “Steve, you had bottled sauces in colors that do not come in nature, at least, not without chemicals. So that went out, and yes, I checked they weren’t originally that color. Some spices that didn’t smell right too.”

Oh yes, his problem of hoarding sauces and spices. Well, on his defense, he’s the one who actually cooks, bless Diana, she can’t. But, maybe he needed to keep better track of what was good and what needed to be replaced. “So which spices kicked the bucket?”

“Marjoram, the herbs de Provence and some mix for turkey.”

Huh, nothing major. “Alrighty then,” he nods and then looks around. “How about some pizza?”

Diana smiles gratefully, “That would be lovely, can you have them add jalapeños to mine?”

Diana is a lot more open minded to culinary adventures than many, and she’s one of the few people he actually knows who really enjoy pineapple on pizza with ham, she just adds the jalapeños for the kick. “Sure. Anything else?”

“A salad would be nice.”

“Sure, I’m also ordering the butter and herbs spaghetti.”

Diana laughs once more. “Sure, I do like that. It’s quite an interesting blend, have you figured it out yet?”

He hasn’t. There’s something in it that he hasn’t been able to place. “No,” he grumbles. “But I will,” he says and pulls his phone from his pocket, already dialing the pizza place they favor. He places the order and hangs up, then goes back to help Diana in organizing the kitchen. “Why today?” He asks, motioning all around him.

Diana, stops and looks at him. “My department is getting a cut.”

He winces, Diana works in the local museum. It’s not as known, or as famous as The MoMa or The Met, but they have a great deal of good things. That’s how they met, he’d gone to do some research on ancient history and Diana had been the one to help him. “Are you loosing someone?”

“Two of my team,” Diana says, defeated.

He goes to her and hugs her, he knows that Diana cares about her colleagues, they’re like bonus family members for her and loosing any of them is something that hits her hard. No wonder she came home and began cleaning. “Sorry.”

Diana burrows into his hug, “Not your fault,” her voice is muffled against his shoulder. “But I’m sad.”

“Of course you are. Now, come let us finish this place and, when the food arrives, we’ll go upstairs, cuddle in bed, watch a movie that you like and pretend the world doesn’t exist.”

He feels Diana smile against his shoulder. “You’re the best.” She says and lifts her face, her smile is a small one, but genuine.

He winks, “And you love me.”

[crow-writes-stuff]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Nakahara Chuuya & Nakajima Atsushi (Bungou Stray Dogs), Akutagawa Ryuunosuke & Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Akutagawa Ryuunosuke/Nakajima Atsushi (Bungou Stray Dogs), possible Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs) Characters: Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Edogawa Ranpo (Bungou Stray Dogs), Nakajima Atsushi (Bungou Stray Dogs), Akutagawa Ryuunosuke (Bungou Stray Dogs) Additional Tags: Edogawa Ranpo is a Little Shit (Bungou Stray Dogs), Armed Detective Agency Member Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Nakahara Chuuya Is So Done (Bungou Stray Dogs), atsushi has a crush on akutagawa, Chuuya accidentally makes Atsushi realise his feelings, neither of them is happy about this, Nakahara Chuuya Swears (Bungou Stray Dogs), Protective Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Fluff Series: Part 4 of Affirmation Summary:

Chuuya and Atsushi are supposed to buy snacks for Ranpo. On this very important mission they run into Akutagawa.

There is a loud, pitiful sigh. Chuuya grits his teeth and forces himself to keep working on the report he's supposed to write. Another sigh. "Ranpo-san, are you alright?" Atsushi is the first one to break. Chuuya can see Dazai hide a triumphant smirk. The bastard shouldn't be so smug about it, even Chuuya could have guessed this outcome.

"No! I'm dying," comes the overdramatic response almost immediately. Chuuya keeps writing.

"What's wrong, Ranpo-san?" Kenji is now also thoroughly distracted by the detective's antics.

"I'm out of snacks!" Chuuya fucking knew it. He's been here for barely two weeks, and he fucking knew it. "Again? Didn't we stock up just a while ago?" "They're all gone," the detective whines. "I'm gonna die." If only it was that easy.

Chuuya can feel the detective's eyes on him. He's not doing him the favour of looking up. "Hey, Mr Fancy Hat."

Chuuya is going to kill him. "What," he says, eyes still focusing on his report.

"Buy me more snacks."

What Chuuya wants to say is: "Can't you do it yourself?" or simply "Fuck off." Instead, he takes a deep breath and says: "Fine." Because they've already been through this song and dance. Twice. In two weeks. Chuuya is going to kill someone.

He can't refuse, because he's supposed to 'follow any order by the Agency members' as Edogawa and Dazai like to remind him. And the detective is completely fucking incapable of being a normal functioning person, so he can't do this shit himself.

At least he can annoy Dazai in the same vein. Chuuya stands up and lightly kicks against Dazai's leg. "Get up." Dazai stares up at him as if he has no clue why he would be dragged into this. "You're supposed to keep an eye on me, remember?" Dazai pouts at him. As if that would help either of them right now.

Suddenly his eyes light up, and Chuuya does not like that.

"Atsushi-kun," Dazai says in a cheerful voice. "No," says Chuuya. "What is it, Dazai-san?" asks Atsushi. Chuuya groans.

"I think it's safe if you go with Chuuya in my stead." At the unsure look Atsushi gives him, Dazai adds: "Don't worry, he's been very well behaved these last weeks. He won't cause any trouble." Speaking about Chuuya as if he's a dog. Once again. Chuuya is going to kill Dazai instead of Edogawa. Maybe both of them.

Atsushi is still not convinced. "Is that really okay? The president said-" Dazai interrupts: "I'm sure the president won't mind. But you see, I'm very busy at the moment, and we would all save valuable time if you would do this for me." Chuuya, who has seen how busy Dazai is, rolls his eyes. But he's tired of arguing. "One of you is going to move your ass, or there will be no snacks for anyone." At the horrified gasp of the detective, Atsushi finally gets up.

"Thank you, Atsushi-kun!" Dazai calls with a self-satisfied grin. "Oh, and Chuuya, if you're already going to the store, could you buy groceries for us?" Chuuya glares at him. "I was already planning to do that. It's not like you can be trusted with it anyway." Dazai pouts, as Chuuya heads out the door, Atsushi behind him.

"Dazai-san can't be trusted to go grocery shopping?" Chuuya shrugs. He's more relaxed now that they're no longer surrounded by people that still regard his every move with suspicion. "He always just buys what he fancies at the moment, usually canned crab or something like it. Not that I expect anything different at this point." Atsushi fidgets with his belt as they head down the street, clearly wanting to say more. "Just ask," Chuuya sighs.

"Uh, well, did you and Dazai-san live together before he... You know, left?" "Not officially," Chuuya says as they cross the street. "I mean when we were on missions obviously, but otherwise we each had our own place. But Dazai mooched off of me so much that I just started cooking for us both." "I see," Atsushi says, and that's the end of the conversation for now as they reach the store.

Chuuya grabs a shopping basket for himself and hands one to Atsushi. "Do you need to get anything besides- Atsushi?" The boy has completely frozen up, staring at something behind Chuuya. Alarmed, Chuuya spins around. It's easy to spot the reason for Atsushi's reaction. Akutagawa Ryuunosuke is standing at the end of the aisle, similarly frozen. At least he looks better than the last time Chuuya saw him. Chuuya relaxes, just before the other two get over their shock, both taking on fighting stances.

Nope. This is not happening. Chuuya takes a step forward, positioning himself between the two. "No," he says. The boys blink at him. "No fighting. I'm not putting up with that right now." "Chuuya-san-" "No arguing either." Chuuya turns towards Akutagawa. "Did Gin ask you to buy some groceries?" The boy nods, dumbfounded. "Do you need help?" After a moment of hesitation, a shrug. That's as much of a yes, as Chuuya's going to get. He nods, making a decision.

"Atsushi, you're going to pick out the snacks Edogawa likes. Ryuu and I are going to get our groceries and join back up with you at the end." He turns to see Atsushi mouth a silent "Ryuu?" before nodding, dazed.

Chuuya heads towards Akutagawa who's still staring daggers at Atsushi but follows without protest. "Do you have a list?" He gets handed one silently, quickly looking it over. "Okay, this shouldn't take too long. Come on."

Chuuya leads them through the aisles, picking out both his and the Akutagawas' groceries on the way. Ryuu stays quiet, except for the occasional answer when asked something. Chuuya doesn't mind. From time to time, he adds something to the other's basket, like Gin's favourite tea, which she doesn't deem a necessity and therefore never buys herself. Or in this case, asks her brother to buy.

Soon enough, everything on the list is in Ryuu's basket, and Chuuya has enough groceries for Dazai and him to last the week. Maybe longer, depending on how much Dazai actually is willing to eat. Chuuya really wonders sometimes how his partner managed to survive the past four years.

They pick up Atsushi who has filled his own basket to the brim with snacks and sweets, and head to the register. Atsushi keeps glancing at Akutagawa and Chuuya can almost physically feel the other's patience thinning. "Stop provoking him," he finally says, shooting Atsushi a look.

The kid looks honestly surprised. "I'm not! I'm not doing anything!" Chuuya sighs. Dazai really wants these two to work together. "Stop staring at him like that." Earning another confused look, he adds: "Actually, just stop looking at him altogether. We only need to pay, and you can go your separate ways again."

They manage to pay without causing an incident. Chuuya is silently glad when they finally leave the store. As expected, Ryuu doesn't linger long. He nods at them, "Chuuya-san, Weretiger," and is off. Chuuya almost laughs. "Does he always call you that?" Atsushi makes a face. "Yes, I can't get him to stop." "Cute." "It's not!" The bright red cheeks do nothing to make Chuuya rescind his statement. He takes the grocery bags, ignoring Atsushi's protests, and heads towards the Agency.

When they're finally back, Chuuya unceremoniously drops the bags filled with snacks on Edogawa's desk, who doesn't even say thank you. He takes the other two bags and puts them down next to Dazai who immediately starts pulling things out to inspect. "Aw, Chuuya even bought crab for me!" Chuuya rolls his eyes.

"Hey, kid, you alright?" Kunikida asks, voice already suspicious again. Chuuya turns around to see Atsushi sitting on a couch with his head in his hands. He frowns, not sure what this is about.

Atsushi nods but doesn't look up. Which is only causing more suspicion. Kunikida moves closer, very obviously keeping an eye on Chuuya. "Seriously, if something happened, you need to tell us."

Chuuya crosses his arms. "He was fine just moments ago."

Atsushi finally looks up. His cheeks are red again, and oh no. Chuuya has a horrible suspicion. "Is this because of my comment?" "What comment?" Kunikida asks, but Atsushi already, hesitantly, nods.

Oh no.

Chuuya takes a deep breath before stepping forward. "Atsushi," he starts, voice level, ignoring the people around him. Especially Dazai. "Do you have a crush on Akutagawa?" The room goes dead silent. Everyone is either staring at Chuuya or at Atsushi. Atsushi who flushes even more and avoids his eyes. Atsushi who very clearly would rather be anywhere else right now. "Maybe?"

Fuck. Fucking hell. Chuuya is actually going to kill someone today, and it is neither of the ones he expected.

Familiar arms sneak around his waist, holding him in place. Of course, it's fucking Dazai. Chuuya glares up at him. "This is your fault." Dazai doesn't even act surprised, he just smiles. "I wouldn't know how." "You set this whole thing up in the first fucking place." Dazai shrugs, still holding onto Chuuya. "I don't see the problem. It's kinda cute, isn't it?" And, oh, Chuuya knows that smile. Dazai is going to take full advantage of this situation. Something Atsushi seems to realises as well, judging by his suddenly horrified expression.

Chuuya turns back towards the boy. "Don't hurt him." Atsushi nods, face pale. Chuuya doesn't have to threaten him to get the message across. The implications are enough.

Finally, Chuuya sighs. This day took a turn he doesn't exactly appreciate. He taps on Dazai's arm. "You can let go of me. I'm not going to kill him." Dazai smirks. "What if I don't want to let go?" Chuuya rolls his eyes. "Then, no work gets done, and Kunikida will yell at us." Dazai pouts but does finally let go of him.

They return to their desks, with Dazai definitely sitting closer than necessary. Perhaps he wants to make sure Chuuya doesn't change his mind and goes after Atsushi. Perhaps he's just being annoying.

Chuuya glares at him. "Don't you fucking dare." With innocent eyes, Dazai pulls back the paperwork he just tried to sneak onto Chuuya's pile.

Chuuya suppresses a sigh. This day is already too much, and it's not even noon yet. He's not sure he's looking forward to the rest of it. He feels a tap on his arm and looks up to see Dazai smiling at him. Alright. Perhaps it's not all bad. And he's reasonably sure Atsushi isn't going to hurt Akutagawa on purpose. He's still going to keep an eye on the situation, but he can live with it. It's all going to be fine. Probably. Chuuya returns to his report, Dazai next to him. Yeah, it'll be okay.

[hopeswriting]

FANDOM: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!

EVENT: Flufftober 2020

PROMPT: Cutting Partner’s Hair

AUTHOR: @hopeswriting​

RATING: G

PAIRING: Chrome & Mukuro

SUMMARY:

Chrome gives herself a new haircut

(Inspired by this fanart.)

WORDS: 1809

*

Cheers and whoops and whistles erupt at her entrance, and Chrome freezes. Confetti falls on her while Fran blows on a party blower, and Ken and Chikusa clap with way over the top enthusiasm on their face.

Chrome spreads her flames for a literal reality check. It is real, and she can’t even blush because of how weird it is.

“What… are you doing?”

M.M bursts out laughing off to the side, and of course it’s her doing, she should have known. Mukuro lies on the couch his headphones on his head and his phone in his hands, turned their way but she can’t tell if he spared any interest at her new haircut or not.

The boys blush, except for Fran who is now complimenting her haircut in his monotone voice of his, in between blowing on his blower.

Ken points at M.M. “You carrot head, what’s so funny? You made us do this!”

M.M throws back her head further and laughs harder. She waves her phone in an unrepentant, confessing manner, and Ken blushes deeper.

“Chikusa?”

“M.M wanted us to compliment you on your new haircut once you’d be back.” He rearranges his beanie, his face still undeniably red. “And on a serious note… it suits you.”

Chikusa immediately turns his back on her.

“Thank you,” she says quickly before he can walk away too much.

Ken and M.M gets louder, and she tunes them out to focus on Fran instead. She puts her hand on top of his head, crouches to his level.

“Fran.” The party blower and confetti disappear, and Fran quiets down. “Give me your honest thoughts?”

She chose to keep her hair short at the end, but went for an asymmetrical cut, her hair longer on her right side than her left. A braid keeps her fringe away from her face on the side of her good eye.

Fran runs his fingers alongside the braid, then down the top of her head where there’s no longer a tuft of hair sticking out.

“It’s nice, but now master is the only pineapple among us. Do you think it will make him sad? I think it will make him sad. I’m going to ask him.”

Chrome ruffles his hair gently. “Thank you Fran, please don’t go ask him.”

Fran goes on his way to ask Mukuro, and Chrome can admit to herself his teasing of them all never fail to amuse her.

Chikusa gives her a glance as she stands next to him, glances back at Ken and M.M. “Ken, enough. Be a man and tell her what you honestly think.”

Chrome shots him a look she knows he feels even if he doesn’t acknowledge it. She didn’t ask for anything.

She purposefully doesn’t look Ken in the eye when he whips around.

“What did you say Kakikpi? Who the hell are you calling not a man?”

“Prove it then, dumb beast,” M.M edges him on. “What do you honestly think of Chrome’s haircut? Isn’t she pretty like that?”

Ken splutters, gets louder, quiets down. Chrome ducks her head when she feels his eyes on him, and has not so nice thoughts about Chikusa and M.M crossing her mind.

“Well?”

Ken snaps. “You carrot head, do you want a fight? How the hell should I know, do I look like a stupid girl to you? It’s just a haircut, who cares!”

Chikusa and her sigh for entirely different reason.

“Ken, you’re really a child.”

“Kakipi-byon, which side are you on?”

“Let’s just go back to Mukuro-sama.”

“And you better hurry up lest some balls grow on you.” M.M throws her back again, and gives her most fake, high-pitched laugh.

Ken’s Sun flames roar to life. Chrome hits the floor with her trident, and vines snatch both Ken’s cartridge and M.M’s clarinet.

Honestly, these two.

“Ken, Mimi-chan, no.”

Chikusa grabs Ken’s jacket, and drags him away spluttering and struggling. “Ken, you’re embarrassing.”

Chrome directs her vines to slip Ken’s cartridge in Chikusa’s pocket, for him to give him back at the right time. She draws back M.M’s clarinet when she reaches for it, but she only rolls her eyes and snatches it back.

“Mimi-chan.”

“What? He’s so easy to riled up, is it my fault?”

“Yes.”

M.M rolls her eyes again. “Oh never mind him, look at you!” She bounces on her, not quite glomping her in her arms. “This is much better, but I thought we settled on keeping them long?”

“I know, but it would have been a hindrance in battles.”

“I guess, but I’m sure we could have come up with a cute way to tie them up. Anyway.” She pets her hair, lets them slip in between her fingers. “It brings out your face, I like it. Did you take a good look at it yet?”

Her look tells Chrome she already knows the answer to that. Chrome gives a non-committal shrug, and straight up lies. “Yes, once the hairdresser was done.”

“Whatever you say Chrome. Come here, let’s take a picture.” M.M draws her to her side, squishes their cheek together. Chrome tries to even out her pouty look so it doesn’t ruin the picture.

It’s not her fault she feels exposed like that. Chrome doesn’t think any bad thoughts about her, not really, but she hasn't such a high opinion of her she’d think it worth it to bring out her face. Her face, or anything else about her really.

She likes to think this is the first baby step of many to change that though.

M.M takes the pictures, and at the corner of her eyes she notices Mukuro leaving the room without so much as a glance their way. When she glances at Fran from across the room, he mists a white, gosthly form of Mukuro ascending to the ceiling.

“Mukuro-chan can be quite childish too, can’t he?” M.M bumps their hips. “Don’t let it get to you, you’re rocking this haircut.”

Chrome smiles. “I won’t. Make sure to send me the pictures, alright?”

M.M winks.

They go their separate way, M.M to the boys and her after Mukuro. She finds him in his room, rummaging in his fridge.

“Mukuro-kun.”

“My dear Chrome, what I can do for you? Or will it be ‘Nagi’ soon?”

Chrome takes a moment to think about it. “Not anytime soon, I don’t think so. But one day… I’d like to be able to reclaim the name one day, even if I end up never using it again.”

Mukuro gives her a long, meaningful look, sits on the couch with a drink in hands.

“Can I come in?”

“Anytime. What is it?”

Chrome shakes her head, a little smile playing on her lips. “It’s just that your hair became quite long too.”

“Oya, are you offering? Please do, I just can’t seem to ever find the time.”

Mukuro straightens in the couch, flips his hair above its edge.

Chrome can count on the fingers of one hand the times she did M.M’s hair, and it was never about cutting them, and she never did anything to anyone’s hair before.

But if worse comes to worst, Ken will be able to deal with it anyway.

She indulges herself by only weaving her fingers through his silk-like hair—softer than hers—first.

“I know for a fact long hair would suit you, if you don’t mind me asking.”

Mukuro sighs. “Wouldn’t it? Unfortunately I would rather drink bleach than resembling any further to this preposterous of a so-called ancestor.”

“Are you sure? I thought your Ten Years Later self really quite handsome.”

“Oya? Chrome, what are you saying?” He cranes his head back to raise his eyebrow. “What was I all this time if not ‘quite really handsome’?”

Chrome laughs. “Not less handsome in any case, Mukuro-kun.”

“Kufufufu, I must say, it feels quite nice to be able to talk with you like this now. Do I have Sawada Tsunayoshi and his Guardians to thank for that? Or is it these new civilians friends of yours.”

“They were of great help yes, as all of you.”

“But do they treat you well? They keep your trips in Namimori fun for you, don’t they? If not—”

“Mukuro-kun,” Chromes chides fondly, “if they weren’t I would have told you, but only after I’d take care of it myself.”

“Of course, of course.” His head twitches like he was about to shake it. “But I’m quite saddened you wouldn’t let me take part in the fun with you.”

Chrome chuckles. She makes appear scissor out of her Mist flames, and works at his hair slowly but surely. A comfortable silence falls around them.

“Mukuro-kun?”

“What is it?”

“It feels really nice to me too.”

Mukuro doesn’t answer, but she notices his shoulders relaxing further. His flames brush against her more easily too.

“Mukuro-kun, do you remember that day? The feelings I faced you with at the moment?”

“Of course. How could I not?”

“I think I might have been mistaken. I want to protect you, but you don’t need protecting. I want to protect the things dear to you, but they’re dear to me now, and not only through you anymore. And—” Chrome’s heart doubts for the briefest of moment. She knows she’s still behind from Mukuro, from Boss and her fellow Guardians, but she has the resolve. She has the Will. She can’t let herself doubt anymore. “—I don’t need to be protected either.”

“Oya my dear Chrome, do you think you’re telling me something I didn’t already know?” Chrome blinks, and Mukuro laughs like he’s seen it. “Chrome, I am the first person who saw your potential, and the only one who never doubted it from then on. I never once saw you as someone needing protection.”

Chrome feels herself beam. Her heart fills with warmth, and a grin pulls at her lips.

“I thought—after all we went through I realized that what I really want is for us to stand side by side. To support each other. To make our wishes true together. If you’ll have me,” she adds softly.

Mukuro tuts, but she can tell he’s only teasing. “And you were doing so good until then.” He stands, shakes the hair from his shoulder. “How do I look?”

“Quite really handsome.” He smirks, and she huffs a laugh.

“But not quite at your level I’m afraid, even less now you went and did your hair so beautifully.”

Chrome feels hot on the cheeks, but lets her flattered smile blooms on her face, lets herself meet his eye. “Thank you, Mukuro-kun.”

“Well, should we talk about these wishes of ours then?” Mukuro puts his hand on his hip, his smirk taking on something devilish. “But not to worry, I know in my heart yours include world domination too, dear Chrome of mine.”

*

This happens sometimes post-canon, and the whole “Chrome getting kicked out of Kokuyo” arc DID NOT HAPPEN. Not the way it happened in canon anyway.

In this verse Chrome and Mukuro actually COMMUNICATED with each other.

------

Mukuro is free from Vindice and gets back his own body, and of course Chrome is over the moon for him. But also it throws their relationship into an inevitable new development, whether they like it or not, whether they’re ready for it or not.

Chrome was not ready for it, and struggles with it.

(But would she had ever deem herself ready if it was left up to her?)

She struggles to define where she stands in relation to Mukuro now that he is his own person, now that she is her own person; to define where she stands in relation to the Kokuyo gang.

She struggles about what she is going to mean for them now, what does she want to mean for them now; struggles about wanting to still belong but not knowing if she still has the right to belong.

(And on top of it all she blames herself for the little part of her soul that mourns the fact Mukuro and her are not halves of one mind and body anymore, won’t ever be again.)

------

I headcanon she starts thinking about it all since they got back from the future because of the whole “Mukuro maybe died” thing. It would have made her think, even if she actively didn’t think too hard about it until she had too.

M.M is all for it, and actively encourages her to spread her wings while reassuring her on some of her doubts. You know why?

BECAUSE THEY’RE FRIENDS GODDAMNIT AMANO GIRLS!!! FRIENDSHIP!!!

And yes M.M has her eyes on Mukuro, and Chrome may or may not have some romantic feelings for him too/could or could not come to develop romantic feelings for him, but SO WHAT?

M.M knows her priorities and her priority at the moment is this formerly civilian girl new to the mafia, and having Mukuro as her only rock to get through it all isn’t exactly the best for her.

------

I mean I do believe Mukuro came to have only good intentions about her, but also he’s a highly traumatized boy who has yet to process any of his trauma, and has a really warped/twisted (but not necessarily wrong) and hateful view of the mafia/world, and willing to go to extremes to unleash what he sees as a rightful punishment.

So, you know, not the most stable of rock out there.

And M.M isn’t at all trying to stop Chrome’s feelings about him to follow their natural course, “but Chrome, sweetheart, you don't have to give up everything about you for him and his desires. You shouldn’t. You have the right to be your own person no matter how great the deed he did for you is, and even if it means you two will have different, clashing opinions sometimes.”

(And really, Chrome wants that. She realizes there’s only so much she can bring on the table for Mukuro/the Kokuyo gang by only being Mukuro’s shadow.)

(But who’d ever want Nagi by their side? Mukuro was certainly the first who ever did.)

------

In the meantime Mukuro has his own struggles. He’s free now, actually, legally free with his own body, and nothing stops him to follow on his plans of world domination/destruction. In theory anyway.

In practice none of them are on the run anymore, none of them need to hide or look above their shoulders as much for an oncoming threat, and Kokuyo Center Park isn’t what you can call a home at all but it’s theirs, and they all go to school, and…

A normal life has no right to appeal to him as much as it does, but it does.

The normalcy of seeing sunsets, and getting rained on, and doing homework, and complaining about stupid teachers and stupider classmates, of coming home and saying “I’m back” and hearing “Welcome back”, and eating meals together…

It throws him off, to say the least.

But then the mafia is still filled with Estraneo-alike people, and someone has to take care of them, and who else will if not him? Who else cares about it except him?

(Mukuro certainly has yet to see anyone else lift if only a finger.)

------

And then there’s Sawada Tsunayoshi who’s the key to unleash some justice onto the mafia world (some justice for himself he was never given), but just so happens to be his Sky too, whether he likes it or not.

And he’s still learning to not pity him, and to not make him bear his out of place optimistic views of the world and people, but he fought besides him. Showed him his back and never looked back to see if he was actually gonna protect it and not stab it. Accepted Chrome even while knowing Mukuro could take over any moment.

And he condemns what Mukuro did, and fought him and stopped him because he endangered what was dear to him, but…

(Sawada Tsunayoshi learned of what he went through, what he did, and he didn’t look away. But he didn’t turn his back on him either, the fool, the trusting child.)

Then there’s his manic Skylark, and his just slightly less manic other Guardians. And it hurts him to admit, but their brand of chaos and “fun” and their tendency of defying rules and authority are right there beside his.

(And what do you know, he doesn’t need to be covered in blood and have cold bodies lying at his feet to feel alive.)

------

But what is he supposed to do, let it go, moving on? Who is he supposed to be without this burden on his shoulders?

(He was never anyone else.)

(And who’d want to bother protecting the boy curled in his cage, swallowing back his cries? To offer him safety? The world only ever took advantage of him.)

But now he has these people he actually cares about, and who followed him so far already. What right does he have to drag them deeper in the mafia they all hate for his own gain, now they can have this instead?

(The thing they should have had from the beginning, the thing they’re so bitter, so resentful it was taken from them.)

(The thing they didn’t think they would ever have again.)

------

Of course they don’t tell each other all that. Not in so many words anyway, or at all really lol. I mean, open, honest communication in the world of KHR? Don’t know her.

But they shared a mind for like a year or so, and they don’t exactly need to tell each other anything anymore.

So when the representative battles come around, they agree to be on different teams, agree the distance will help them figure their shit at their own pace, and without burdening/influencing the other.

Chrome still attends Namimori middle (and move in Namimori I guess), because it’s easier like that while she’s on team Reborn. But she most definitely moves back to Kokuyo once the rainbow arc is over.

(I love the potential of Chrome being in Namimori, especially when it comes to her friendship with the girls and getting to get closer to the other Guardians, but she can do that from Kokuyo.)

(Imo she is a member of Kokuyo gang first and foremost, and it has to be a very dear part of her identity because it’s where she belonged for the first time, and where she felt safe, and more importantly where she found people she belongs with and feels safe with.)

------

She’s on team Reborn from the very beginning, and comes to the same conclusion as canon at the end of the arc.

And she comes back to the Kokuyo gang with a great boost in her confidence because what the hell, she fought in a free for all with all the strongest fighters in her generation and stood her ground.

She fought against the Vindice and made a difference. Way to go girl, cheers to her!

She does do the trip to Namimori every now and then to see the girls (and more and more the Guardians too), and vice-versa. M.M eventually ends up getting introduced to the girls too. Bianchi is often enough in the picture too.

(M.M and her do not get along.)

When Chrome’s hair start growing, M.M is here for it. She encourages her to let them grow, and then change her haircut entirely, and Chrome feels ready for it.

And I don’t know how good the haircut I came up with would actually be irl lol, but it’s not about the actual haircut anyway.

------

In the meantime Mukuro came to his own conclusions. He’s not so certain about them, but he likes to think he’s in a better place now.

He didn’t give up on his plans but maybe they don’t have to consume his whole life anymore (or him). Maybe they can all enjoy their life on their way there.

And he is even less sure about this whole Harmony business and inheriting of the Vongola through Tsuna, but maybe these people are worth a shot too.

It’s in these respective headspaces they face each other again after the rainbow arc. And they’re not hesitant per se, but maybe delicate with how they interact with each other?

It’s a whole new dynamic for the both of them after all, and they don’t know yet this version of each other (they themselves have still to find out).

------

And don’t get me wrong, Mukuro isn’t any less happy for Chrome becoming independent than she is for him getting back his freedom. That’s what he was waiting for after all.

But he cares about her, and it’s kind of hard to let her spread her wings fully when he sees the whole world as one big threat to take care of.

And I’m talking about Chrome but it’s true for all of them. The Kokuyo gang doesn’t need his protection but Mukuro is sure as hell going to give it to them anyway.

That said he deals with that on his own, and doesn’t let it affect either Chrome or their relationship.

And eventually they find each other again for good, stronger and better than before. And they only keep growing for the better from then on.

And good for them honestly, especially for my girl Chrome<3.

*

Thank you for reading! I have some M.M’s headcanon too if you want. Any and all review are appreciated ^^.

[deadanddeactivated]

Jocks and Goths

Fandom: Sanders Sides, Highschool au Pairing: Intruality Characters: Thomas, Logan, Remus, Deceit, Roman, Virgil, Patton Notes: Day 17 for @tsshipmonth2020 - intruality.  No this was not written before Dukceit day, I’ve literally written this since posting that.  Sometimes fics take three weeks and sometimes they take two hours.  This took two hours. Summary:   One's a Goth, one's a Jock. They never really meant to become friends.

AO3

--

Even since moving to Sides High, Patton has successfully managed to avoid Remus Duke.  It wasn’t that he didn’t like the guy, although he did find a lot of what Remus said to be… unnerving.  And the other did have really large, very toned, mildly terrifying muscles.  Plus everything he did was loud enough Patton sometimes flinched.

But!  It wasn’t that Patton thought he was bad or anything!!  It’s not bad that Remus is healthy, and it’s not Remus’ fault that Patton overhears things, and maybe Remus’ doesn’t mean to be so loud.  Patton has nothing against the man himself.

Virgil, however, does. 

Patton’s not sure what happened between Virgil and Remus, because it happened before Patton transferred to the school.  He’s pretty sure it had something to do with a romantic relationship?  Whatever it was, it left the two with a horrible, terrible relationship.  They don’t get on, at all.  And since Patton is Virgil’s friend (since Virgil is Patton’s first and only friend) doesn’t that mean Patton has to share that grudge?  Virgil’s never said Patton can’t be friends with Remus, they’ve never even talked about Remus, but Patton’s pretty sure that’s like… a Friend Rule, or something.  

The point is, Patton has managed never to say a word to Remus one way or the other.  A carefully held record that’s ruined when they’re paired up for a history assignment.

Okay, Patton tells himself, this’ll be fine.  It’s just an assignment, surely Virgil won’t mind.  Right?

“Patton Heart, right?”  Remus says his name and it takes everything in Patton not to flinch.

“That’s um, that’s me.”  He mumbles, letting his pastel blue hair fall in his eyes as he avoids looking at Remus.

“Great.”  Remus grins, dragging a seat to Patton’s desk and sitting in it the wrong way round.  “You got your heart set on anything for this because I think we should do Bloody Mary, or maybe Genghis Khan, oh!  Or Vlad the Impaler!” 

“That sounds a bit… graphic.”  Patton says.  For their project they have to represent a historical figure and the impact they had on the world from a ‘unique’ angle (Virgil would probably complain about how vague the word ‘unique’ was, or maybe he’d complain that Patton has to work with Remus for the project.  Should Patton even tell him?)

“Yeah!”  Remus grins, like that’s a positive thing. 

“Can we do someone that didn’t cause so much bloodshed?”  Patton asks. 

“I mean, I guess.  If you can think of anyone more interesting.”  Remus says, sighing like it’s some big request.  

“I, um, I can’t think of anyone off the top of my head.”  Patton admits, wincing.  Remus lets out an exaggerated hum.

“Okay, meet me in the library after school.  We can try and find someone.”  He suggests.

“Okay.”  Patton agrees meekly.  Satisfied, Remus gets up from the chair and moves to a different group.  A group that has popular people with tone muscles and busy lives.

God, Patton thinks with a sigh, this is going to be a long project.  Any project with a jock was doomed to be long.

--

“You want to get ice-cream or something?”  Virgil asks Patton after school that day.  Rare is the day Virgil doesn’t have some show rehearsal to get to - lights to set up, props to organize, actors to chase down.  The life of a theatre geek is never boring, he often tells Patton, especially a theatre techie.

Which just makes Patton feel all the worse for having to say no.

“I’m sorry.”  He says.  “I have to work on a group project for history.”

“Who’d you get stuck with?”  Virgil asks.  Patton hesitates but he can’t exactly lie to Virgil, can he?  Just hope that Virgil doesn’t get annoyed.

“...Remus.”  He admits.

“Ouch.”  Virgil says with a wince.  “Good luck keeping him on track for long enough to finish a project.”

“We have to pick a historical figure and everyone he’s suggesting is really gory and brutal.”  Patton says, feeling physical relief that Virgil doesn't seem to care.

“Sounds like Remus.”  Virgil huffs, rolling with his eyes.  “Maybe pick a doctor, that should have enough blood and gore to keep him interested.”

“Oh!”  Patton lights up as an idea comes to him.  “Mary Seacole!  Virgil, you’re the best.”

“I try.”  Virgil grins.

--

Remus likes the idea of doing the unrated nurse from the crimean war and so they quickly get to work.

And they quickly get distracted from work, too, because it seems impossible for Remus to keep his mind on any one thing.  At first it’s… well, Patton doesn’t like it.  He just wants to get this project done and over with.

But then Remus wears him down.

“I’m just saying, names influence who we are in like.  I mean, just look at Ms Maricolt!  She looks like a horse!”  Remus says at some point near the end of the second day and Patton really, really doesn’t mean to laugh because it’s Remus and the joke is a little mean.  But it’s also a pun, and Patton has a soft spot for puns.

“That’s mean.”  He says once he’s collected himself, if only out of principle.

“But it got you to laugh!”  Remus grins.  “And to look at me.”  He adds.  

Oh, Patton realizes as he quickly looks away again.  He hadn’t noticed he hadn’t looked at Remus.

“Aw, no, don’t look away again I like your eyes!  They’re really eye-inspiring.”  The pun is bad, really bad, but Patton still chuckles.

“That was terrible.”  He complains.

“Are you remus-manding.”  Remus continues, grinning.

“Oh my gosh.”  Patton laughs.  “They’re getting worse!”

“Aw, don’t be like that.  I think I’m Patt-on the right direction.”  Remus says.

“I Seacole what you’re doing here, it’s bad.”  Patton returns, laughing at Remus’ gasp.

“Oh it is on goth-boy.”  He decides.  They don’t do any more studying that day, distracted by their pun-off.

--

“So are we meeting up again tomorrow?”  Patton asks the next day as they back up.

“Can’t do tomorrow, I’ve got training.”  Remus shakes his head.  

“Oh, right.”  Patton says.  

“You could come if you want.”  Remus suggests. 

“I don’t think that’s really my crowd.”  Patton mumbles.  He can just picture it now, Patton sitting in his black attire, the only colour his blue hair, while the popular kids are right there.  Definitely within name calling distance.  

Nevermind what Virgil would think.  God, Patton doesn’t even want to imagine how bad his best friend would be.

“You’ll fit in just fine!”  Remus claims.  “Or, maybe not.  But I’ll make sure everyone leaves you alone.”  

“I think Virgil and I were heading out anyway.”  Patton says and then immediately regrets it as a frown takes over Remus’ face.  Like he’s tasted a lemon or something else unpleasant.  Oh no, now Remus was going to hate him.  Maybe he’ll tell Virgil he and Patton were almost-friends and then Virgil will hate him too and Patton will go back to being the friendless loser all over again. 

“Sorry.”  Remus’ voice cuts through his panic, making Patton look up.

“Huh?”  Patton frowns, confused.

“You looked like you were freaking out a bit.”  Remus says.  “I didn’t mean to stress you out.  Virgil and I just don’t get on.  Bad breakup and all that, but that’s on us not you.”

“Oh.”  Patton says, though he can’t say anything Remus just said commuted just now.

“Hey!  Pass me your phone, I’ll put my number in so we can study on the weekend.”  Remus decides, changing the subject before Patton can catch up.  Patton does what he’s told and soon he has a new number in his phone labeled ‘Hot Jock’.  “Alright, I’ll see you then.”

“Okay.”  Patton says.  “Um, bye.”

--

The project lasts two weeks and in those two weeks Patton and Remus chat.  A lot.  They talk during their study sessions, they text each other all the time, Remus even gives him a wave when they pass each other in the hall.

It’s official, they aren’t ‘almost friends’ they’re friends.  In fact Patton… Patton will admit that he might want to be more than that.

Which means Virgil’s definitely going to hate him.

The thought bubbles in his stomach the day after they hand in the assignment.  When Patton has no more excuse for messaging Remus, and yet he doesn’t stop.  How is he meant to explain that to Virgil?

Worse yet are the messages he gets that night, when they should both be asleep.

Want to go out this weekend?

On a date

A romantic date

Patton’s half way through answering ‘yes’ when he stops.

He can’t say yes.  Isn’t there some kind of code against dating exes?  Patton can’t say yes.

Except he super wants to.  Very, very wants to.

Maybe, he thinks, maybe he should ask Virgil first.  Then there’ll be no bad blood, right?  

Patton hopes so.

As for the message to Remus, he doesn’t answer.

--

Virgil and Patton always walk to school together.  They’ve just hit their school’s street when Virgil sighs and stops.

“Okay.”  He says.  “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?”  Patton squeaks.  “Nothings wrong!”

“Patton, I know you better than that.”  Virgil rolls his eyes, crossing his arms.  “Just tell me what’s up.”

“Well…” Patton starts slowly then, with a deep breath, he tries to say it all at once.  “You know how Remus and I were doing that project?  Well we sort of maybe got along and we’re kind of maybe friends, and he asked me out last night.  Like out, out.  And I want to say yes but I know you don’t like him and I don’t want to lose you as a friend, so can I say yes?”

For a moment Virgil just blinks at him, brain trying to commute the word vomit Patton just unleashed.

“Okay,” he finally starts, “let me get this right.  You and Remus are friends, and he asked you out on a date, and you want to say yes but only if I’m okay with it because you don’t want me to be mad you’re dating him?”  He rephrases.  Patton nods.  “Patton, of course you can say yes.”

“You don’t mind?”  Patton checks.

“Not at all.  If you like him, go for it.  We’ll still be friends, I promise.”  Virgil says and Patton feels his shoulders slump a little.

“But didn’t you two date?  Won’t it be weird?”  He asks.

“What?!”  Virgil frowns.  “Remus and I never dated!”

“What?”  Patton frowns right back.  Hadn’t Remus said something about a ‘bad breakup’ the other day?

“We used to be friends, us and Dante.  I dated Dante, and when we broke up the friend joke kind of fell apart.”  Virgil explains.

“Dante?”  Patton repeats.  “The school captain?  I didn’t think he was your type.”  

“He’s not.”  Virgil confirms.  “I just found that out the hard way.”

“Oh, so you haven’t dated Remus and you really don’t mind if I do?”  Patton repeats, just to clarify.

“Patton, even if you dated Dante I’d still be your friend.”  Virgil assures.  “The important thing is that you're happy.”  Patton doesn’t mean to start crying but well, it’s just so nice to hear that.  Especially after the stress of the past couple weeks.  “There, there.  You’ll wreck your make-up.”  Virgil says, even as he pulls Patton in for a hug.

As soon as Patton’s reapplied, he tells Remus he’d love to go on a date.

--

They go ice-skating.  Patton’s a little nervous, because he’s never gone before, but Remus goes all the time so he’s happy to teach.

“Patton, I’m wearing knife shoes.  This is literally my favourite thing.  Except you.”  Remus says, grinning when Patton’s face goes bright red.  They exhaust themselves over the next few hours, skating together and just… enjoying their time.  It’s the most fun Patton’s had in a while.

And when it’s over, and Remus has walked him home, he gets a soft kiss (that quickly turns heavy) to remember it by.

[itsclydebitches]

I will personally never understand why the "bird conversation" happened. Qrow basically shut it down, by (I may be wrong, but I'm pretty sure he did) saying they agreed to taking the ability. It feels like we're being told to take Raven at face value, despite other, more trustworthy charecters speaking to the contrary.

He did. Basic rundown of the conversation: Yang enters it pissed off, they learn all the revelations that the rest of the group got a few episodes back, Ozpin asks if this was “more or less what your mother told you,” Yang straight up ignores him and Weiss has to answer for her with, “for the most part.” This finally makes Yang angry enough to respond with “You forgot to tell everyone what you did to Qrow and my mother,” there are gasps and horrified looks from the group, but we get a shot of Qrow smiling and going “oh great”---he knows this secret isn’t a big deal but that convincing the others of that won’t be easy. 

Ozpin explains about the power while Yang pouts on the couch. Nora angrily accuses Ozpin of “messing with us” (even though you all took way stranger things at face value... like reincarnation...), Jaune crosses his arm and adds “What else is new?” Despite these explanations with no downsides mentioned, Yang is still furious: “Why would you do something like that? I mean, what is wrong with you?” 

She gets antagonistic enough that Qrow shuts her down and then explicitly states, “We made a choice. We wanted this.” 

Ozpin then looks to Qrow and asks permission---“May I?”---in order to explain further, detailing that he needed allies to search for Maidens and keep an eye on Salem’s movements. The question heavily implies what should already be obvious: this was Qrow’s secret to keep and tell. Why is everyone gunning for Ozpin when Qrow, the person with the actual ability, likewise made the choice to keep that from his family? These explanations segue into the reveal that Ozpin created the first four Maidens and he ends his speech by admitting that “it was never my intention to lie to you.” He and Qrow share a knowing look as he admits that he “plays things close to the chest” which honestly, to me, reads as two war-worn adults acknowledging that this shit is complicated. You keep secrets, you tell lies, you do what you need to in order to survive and keep others safe. Look at these youngsters who think that non-stop honesty is always the way to go. Or is in any way easy even when it should be done: 

Yang still looks pissed as hell despite thoroughly being proven wrong

and then makes her announcement that she’ll stay if Ruby stays, but no more secrets or half-truths. Ozpin agrees with “Understood.” 

Which, obviously, the fandom has used as the go-to moment to damn Ozpin. You promised not to lie and then you did! Which yeah, that isn’t great. He should have been honest here in his inability to promise such a thing. However, that’s not the only factor in all this. We also have the fact that “no more lies or half truths” does not equal “tell us every single detail about this war right now that includes your very personal and traumatic history.” We have the issue that Yang and many of the others (notably Jaune) were unwilling to judge Ozpin fairly from the get-go. They decided that he was guilty before the trail even began and, when faced with evidence that proved all their assumptions wrong, decided to ignore it rather than admitting they were wrong. You’re going to trust a group like that with world-altering secrets? And we finally have the issue that Yang herself clearly doesn’t believe in her own ultimatums. Or doesn’t think they should apply to her. Keeping Raven’s Maiden power a secret? Turning on Ironwood to spill the beans to Robyn and letting her escape? I don’t put must stock in a character’s outraged, “You kept secrets and lied?” when they’re keeping secrets and lying too. The group’s inability to make the jump from “Wow. Sometimes we do need to keep information close to the chest” to “Oh. I guess it makes sense then that Ozpin would do the same thing” is one of the things that still characterizes them as naive, hypocritical, and downright dangerous given the stakes. 

From a fandom perspective though, I’m not at all surprised that a completely unambiguous admission from Qrow---“We made a choice. We wanted this”---holds no weight. 1. Because he’s another adult that can’t be trusted (see: the group turning on him with their weapons in the snow) and 2. Because the concept of a “choice” apparently disappears whenever Ozpin is thrown into the mix. This is the same thing we’ve seen regarding Pyrrha, the claim that she couldn’t really make a choice. It was never a choice at all. She was manipulated/pressured/steered into being a Maiden so the choice is only a “choice.” Ozpin is still at fault. Now here’s Qrow, saying he made a choice, and fans tend to talk over that with, “No. You only thought you had a choice but I’m sure Ozpin did something off screen that puts him at fault” (see: Qrow saying straight out that Ozpin doesn’t know what happened to Summer and everyone jumping to, “No he definitely does and just lied to Qrow.” Ozpin’s off screen villainy is brought up with a shocking amount of frequency) The fandom takes headcanons and assumptions as fact, leading to an inability to attribute agency to anyone if Ozpin was at all involved in their choice. Ruby entering Beacon, Pyrrha deciding to take on the power, Qrow choosing to be a bird... all of it has been re-framed as Ozpin “forcing” them in one manner or another, which is not only untrue but a real disservice to all their characters. The only time Ozpin “forced” someone to do anything is when he forced Oscar to get involved in this fight, and that’s only “forcing” via unavoidable circumstances. Yeah, technically you could let the farm boy live out his life and just screw the rest of the world... but that would make you a villain via inaction. As someone who was given an actual uninformed choice via the God of Light, Ozpin does a great deal to make sure people know what they’re getting into. Checking at the very last second if Pyrrha is still willing to go through with this. Telling the group to leave now if they’re not wiling to help secure the relic. It’s just that he has to balance that transparency with the never ending risk of information falling into the wrong hands/someone else betraying him... which is no easy task. Do you look at the angry teenager who took her bandit mother’s words at face value and go, “Yes, now is a great time to tell them information that as of yet in no way affects them and would absolutely decimate their mental health at best and lead to them screwing me over at worst”? No. That’s stupid and dangerous and, based on how the group has reacted thus far, just going to make the whole situation that much worse. 

[rainsonata]

Doppelgänger 13/15

Chapter 13: Transformation 

Fandom/Pairing: Elsword; none Rating: T Word Count: 10,034  

Summary: It was like looking into a mirror. What happens when one’s reflection talks back and throws uncomfortable questions? El Search Party struggles to find entrance into the Demon Realm, but Dominator has a plan.   

Alternative Title: Dominator fucked up and now everyone meets their alternative selves    

AO3 Link  I  FF.NET Link

— [Chapter 01] [Chapter 02] [Chapter 03] [Chapter 04] [Chapter 05] [Chapter 06] [Chapter 07] [Chapter 08] [Chapter 09] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapter 14] [Chapter 15] —  

----------------------------

Class Notes: 

Canon Path: Knight Emperor, Aether Sage, Daybreaker, Rage Hearts, Code: Esencia, Comet Crusader, Apsara, Empire Sword, Doom Bringer, Ishtar and Chevalier (Innocent), Bluhen   

Alternative Path: Rune Master, Oz Sorcerer, Anemos, Furious Blade, Code: Ultimate, Fatal Phantom, Devi, Flame Lord, Dominator, Timoria and Abysser (Catastrophe), Richter

----------------------------

Herrscher 

Immortal’s friends called it the Demon Realm. Demons referred to the region they have arrived at as Varnimyr, a land of darkness inhabited by the Dark Elves and demonic creatures. This Demon Realm was similar to the one Herrscher and Immortal’s friends came from. It was in the sword user’s interest to regroup with the rest of the El Search Party, or what was left of it, to acquire the Dark El. Herrscher no longer cared for the El, but it was important to Immortal. 

Unlike Immortal’s friends, he wasn’t as concerned about the trivial details of concepts like timelines and dimensions. Herrscher went wherever Immortal went. Humans, elves, and demons were not aware that timelines and dimensions overlapped with each other. How could they be when most were more concerned about themselves?

“Why do we bother waiting for them?” Paradox was referring to their counterparts. In his child form, the time traveler groaned. “We can’t stay longer than we should.”

“When did you start to care about that? You made it very difficult to find you.” Offering his hand to Herrscher, the redhead felt how cold and lifeless the other being’s hands were, “Are you okay, Ain? I didn’t come too late, did I?”

Herrscher shook his head. Fighting Richter would not be an inconvenience, he wanted to tell Immortal. He would have been able to deflect his alternate’s attacks but accepted his friend’s concern.   

Lying on the floor with his face half turned, Herrscher took Immortal’s hand without hesitation, noting how warm they were in contrast to his. He too used to possess the same warmth humans had. Without attachments to the Goddess, he was beyond redemption, yet Immortal allowed him to stay by the swordsman’s side.  

“You weren’t supposed to find me,” Paradox sneered. 

If looks could kill, Immortal would have been six feet under from the glares Paradox was sending to the multiweapon user. Herrscher couldn't understand why Immortal placed trust in him (“A bad decision, really.” Paradox quipped. Herrscher agreed.). Appearing when opportunities of scourging the El arose, Paradox’s appearances were sporadic with no apparent objective in mind. His unorthodox fighting style made him a formidable ally, but only when their objectives happened to align. 

Rubbing the back of his neck, Herrscher let a breeze cool down his core from its excessive use. Dimension traveling was more of Metamorphy’s area of practice than his, which was manipulating and traveling in between the void of the abyss. Not that Immortal understood that no matter how many times he explained it.  

“Finding you was such a hassle,” Immortal complained. “Do you know how many dimensions it took to get here? Did you know there’s a dimension where people pay millions of ED to watch girls like Aisha sing?” 

“Why should I care?” Paradox deadpanned. 

“There was a dimension where we were all maids,” Immortal ignored the snide question. He grabbed Paradox by the shoulders and dropped his voice into a stage whisper, “You wore pigtails and said some very rude things to me.” 

With little clues to where Paradox could have gone, it took Herrscher and Immortal several attempts to guess the correct coordinates. Herrscher was omniscient to what happened in the void, but not what happened to inhabitants in other dimensions. Immortal proclaimed he had a hunch for the fifth time before Metamorphy unceremoniously took over the team despite the younger man’s protesting. It appeared that Metamorphy did not place as much trust in their leader as Herrscher did, but he had to acknowledge that their method was not efficient in finding Paradox. 

“Where are the other losers?” Paradox searched for the fourth member of their team. 

“You mean our friends?” Immortal snickered when he caught the time traveler scowling. “Come on, did you think I would be that irresponsible to bring a bunch of people with me?”

“Why would that be a problem?” Furious Blade examined Paradox’s child form. He didn’t explicitly voice his thoughts, but his emotions were clear from the confusion in his knitted brows to the existence of the time traveler. “Tell me what happens if there are too many of us.” 

“Having all of you here is making everything unstable,” Paradox said with a bored expression. “When there are too many of you, it overwhelms the dimension until it’s forced to reset itself by destroying everything inside it.”

“Which is funny because that means some of you will stop having noses and turn flat like a pancake,” Immortal laughed. “Then the sky turns upside down and you’re breathing underwater.” 

“Not funny,” Paradox growled, displeased by Immortal’s side comment. “If I have to clean up another mess you made one more time, I’m leaving you here.”

“That’s cruel,” Immortal chuckled. “Anyway, it’s impossible to get everyone here.” He stopped smiling and leaned his head back. His eyes turned glassy and his voice became quieter, “I haven’t seen Elesis in weeks and I’m not sure where Lu and Ciel went.”

Herrscher exchanged a dark look to Paradox, who averted his gaze and feigned a yawn of disinterest. The time traveler’s face relaxed, but the rest of his body was tense and his shoulders rose to the mentions of Bloody Queen. Restless and unable to remain idle in the wake of the El’s instability, she disappeared one night with a cryptic note that spoke little of her whereabouts. Immortal shrugged it off as his sister leaving with good intentions, but Herrscher had come to understand that he was doing what humans called a facade. Their leader was pretending that he wasn’t bothered by his sister having gone missing. 

Iblis and Anular’s presence was as erratic as Paradox, coming and going whenever Immortal and his friends were fighting bigger monsters and demons. Anular was nothing more than a shadow of his former self, silently following his master without raising his voice. He was what Herrscher was if he still had devotion for his creator. There was nothing but the void to answer his calls. 

“Why did you look for me?” Paradox asked. 

“Can’t a guy call his friend when he misses him?” Immortal feigned a hurt expression. 

His eyes grew bigger in what he called ‘puppy eyes’. Herrscher didn’t see the resemblance because Immortal wasn’t a canine with ears and a tail. However, it was a human expression used when the late Sieghart wanted something from the person he was talking to.   

“Spare me the excuses.” Paradox rolled his eyes.

“Fine, you’re no fun.” Immortal dropped the farce and snorted, “We tried to get back into the Demon Realm, but got lost because we don’t have the right coordinates. So we went to look for you since that’s your thing.” 

“And if I say no?”   

“Then we’ll be stuck here to annoy you until you help us,” Immortal said with a lazy grin. 

Light flashed around Paradox. His limbs elongated into thin lanky appendages and his hair reached to his ankles. As an adult, he was almost a head taller than Immortal. He looked down at the redhead and crossed his arms as the two of them engaged in a staring contest.  

“Tada~ Raven and I are finally here!” A small shadow appeared with one hand on their hip and flashing a victory pose. “Sorry to keep you waiting ♥.” 

“There were more demons than we anticipated,” Nova Imperator apologized. Dressed in black and red, the former leader of the Black Crows carried a heavy blade over his shoulder with a Nasod arm. Towering over Metamorphy, he made quiet footsteps and always placed care in his words. 

“I knew they didn’t come without you,” Paradox continued leering at their leader.

“Hey, don’t ignore a girl when she talks to you!” Metamorphy growled. Walking between the two men, she had to tilt her head back to glower at Paradox. She jabbed a glove finger into his chest where the glowing core was. “Do you know how long it took us to figure out which dimension you were in?”

“Yes, yes, Elbrat told me.” Paradox rolled his eyes again. “And I suppose you’re going to say I messed up this dimension too.” 

“Yes, you did!” She waved her arm in reference to the corrupted sky, “Look at it, it’s tearing itself apart!”

Ms. Magical Girl was correct with the sky breaking up like the static of primitive human devices Immortal once found under wreckage in Altera. Deep shades of red and violet cracked beneath the sea of blue, giving a crackled effect from the shards created by Paradox portals. Herrscher had visited many dimensions, but seeing structures of the current one become undone reminded him of Henir.   

“That’s flattering, but not everything is my fault.” Paradox cackled, “I’m not the one bringing over extra people to break the dimension further.”

“So it’s my fault because he wouldn’t stop asking me where you went?” Metamorphy gestured to Immortal. “He kept saying ‘Add would help!’ and now you’re acting smart with me?” 

“I’m already smart,” the man smirked. 

Metamorphy screamed. 

“Aisha, no!” Immortal fought to pull the staff away from Metamorphy. “You can’t hit our ride home!” 

The magical girl held her staff high with both hands like a baseball bat, tilting it to one side and aiming for Paradox. She lost her balance and fell headfirst into the ground when Immortal wrestled to stop her. 

“It’s always ‘Aisha, take us to Elrios’, ‘Aisha, we need to get to the Demon Realm’. We looked for this guy because you asked nicely,” Metamorphy sat up and dusted herself. “I’m the only one who can do that because this brat only shows up when he feels like it. Ain only does it when Elsword tells him to.” 

“That’s why I need you to stop fighting long enough so we can get home.” Immortal let out an exasperated sigh, “I don’t need us to break another dimension.” 

“Another?” Blade repeated. 

“It must be confusing and overwhelming to see all of us,” Nova slapped his hand over Paradox’s shoulder. “Hope our lost cat didn’t give you trouble. How many of you are there?” 

Paradox scowled; he shoved Nova’s hand aside and hissed in being compared to a small animal. Even in his adult form, he appeared shorter than his actual height with his head lowered and having a crouched back. His tails twitched and coiled against his thigh like an angry feline. 

Unoffended by the time traveler’s rejection, Nova exchanged a sheepish smile to Blade’s wary one.   

“Twenty-four. He kidnapped one of our friends,” Blade said without tact.   

Herrscher heard footsteps from behind them. There were many of them. It sounded like there were at least half a dozen of them. A deep frown indented into Herrscher’s features, unable to recognize the sound of the strangers’ footsteps. They belonged to people he had not met before. They must be the people Daybreaker coaxed Richter into alerting about their presence.

“They’re here,” Herrscher said. 

A man stormed into their circle with a wild look in his eyes, his face identical to Paradox’s. Having a set of Nasods circling around the scientist, Dominator walked around half-dressed with bed hair and his jacket sliding down one shoulder. The sleep-deprived scientist ignored Herrscher’s presence but gawked at Paradox, recognizing his own face in a mix of awe and disgust.   

“There’s five of them now?” Dominator stopped to catch his breath. 

“You’re already out of breath? You don’t look like you’re used to doing more than lifting a pen.” Empire observed Immortal’s friends bickering, “They all look and act so different.” 

“We arrived as soon as we heard from Richter about new people coming,” Crusader was behind Dominator. “Has there been any conflict?” 

“No,” Blade shook his head. “It looks like they’re here to take back Paradox. They came here with the help of their Aisha and Ain. Those two seem to have control over dimension and space.” 

Eyes turned to Herrscher, who was standing as still as the dead trees the Dark Elves used to make their bows at the edge of Varnimyr. Not as talkative as his teammates, Herrscher was one to let others discuss what was needed to fulfill their needs. There was little to be added to the conversation when they could continue talking without him. 

“You’re Ain?” Empire stared. 

“Yes,” Herrscher said. “Is there something you want to address with me?”

“N-no,” she waved both hands and shook her head.  

Queen’s alternate momentarily lost her composure and gawked at the celestial. Herrscher didn’t mind the stares, but the captain of the Velder Knights did. Forcing her eyes away, Empire turned her head and faked a cough. Her face tinged pink from the blood rushing up to her cheeks as she mumbled an apology for her rudeness. Herrscher never would have seen such a display of emotions from Immortal’s sister.   

“Their team has three people with dimensional powers?” Dominator frowned.  

“Other members of the party are on their way,” Ultimate reported. The Nasod queen of destruction gazed at Paradox’s adult form, analyzing the time traveler’s machines and processing the data from the rest of the third El Search Party. “Rena said it was urgent.” 

“She makes it sound scarier than it actually is,” Crusader chuckled. “It’s like a giant union party. I didn’t think more people would show up.” 

“Let’s hope there aren’t more,” Dominator had a dark expression. “According to Dynamo, we’re pushing this dimension at its limits.” 

“Who’s fault was that?” Blade deadpanned. 

“Are you placing the blame on me?” Dominator feigned a surprised gasp. 

“Yes,” Ultimate and Blade said.   

Worn down with heavy eyelids, the former mercenary rested his human arm over the base of his blade. He, the elf, and Ishmael’s idol were on watch and patrol when Herrscher found them by Immortal’s orders. Their whispers reached into the depths of the woods where Herrscher overheard their conversation. Relaxed and without concern for the dangerous world around them, Daybreaker and Richter’s conversion reminded Herrscher of a more innocent time. When Herrscher first met Twilight and was curious about her upbringing in an elven village, before he lost sight of the Goddess and could no longer hear her. 

“Then who was the one who kidnapped Elbrat and made us go on this mad chase?” Dominator huffed. 

“We can blame each other all day, but that’s beside the point.” Empire said, “Look, I know our actions have made us look bad.” 

“Taking Elsword hostage increased our stay and the likelihood of the dimension becoming unstable,” Ultimate stated. 

“Taking hostage?” Crusader laughed nervously, “Those are strong words, Ultimate.” 

“I know,” she said. 

“Yes, that.” Empire agreed, “but we cornered Paradox. My brother said he could control time and space. Can’t he return everyone back to their dimensions and reset everything? That should reverse the damage, right?” 

“Can you do that?” Metamorphy looked at Paradox. 

“If that was the case, then I wouldn’t be here,”the time traveler said.  

There were two instances Paradox left an impression on Herrscher. When they first met, Paradox was known as Diabolic Esper and caused a wreckage in Hamel to rescue their leader. The second time was when Paradox returned from the Forgotten Elrian Sanctum, laughing and crying about how he couldn’t save Her. Despite having powers beyond human technology, Paradox rarely smiled.      

“That brings us back to the drawing board,” Crusader groaned. 

“I should have known at least one version of myself would actually attempt time travel after talking to the meathead.” Dominator paused, “Wait. Why are you smiling at me?” 

“Did you enjoy my present?” Teeth exposed, Paradox bared a wide grin. “It was sad seeing you try so hard to jump dimensions.”  

Dominator fumed. 

“You made us enter the wrong dimension?” Blade asked. 

“He made those coordinates, not me.” Paradox shrugged, “I just gave the device a power boost.” 

“What were you doing in their dimension?” Nova asked. 

Paradox giggled for an answer. 

“If we don’t act quickly, things will get worse.” Empire looked to Metamorphy for answers, “Isn’t there something we can do? We told the El Masters we would retrieve the Dark El, but we also promised to protect the people that live here.”  

“Protecting demons? How chivalrous and unlike you,” Metamorphy said with a coy smile. “There’s one person who might be able to fix your problem. Perhaps we can ask for his help, right, Add?” 

Paradox hissed. 

“Who is it?” Immortal asked. 

“Why are you acting like you don’t know?” Metamorphy shook him by the shoulders, “You’re pretending to be funny, right?” 

“Actually…” Immortal scratched the base of his neck with a sheepish laugh. 

“Dimension has reached its capacity,” Ultimate interrupted the two. “We have fifty-nine minutes and fifty-nine seconds to evacuate and resolve the issue before this dimension disintegrates.” 

“This can’t be good,” Nova sighed. 

----------------------------

Nova Imperator

Crimson bled into the deeper indigos, casting away the night and molten light peering past the dusted clouds. Wind picked up loose strands of Nova’s hastily done ponytail. Portals cracked split the skies into smaller fragments, crystals forming around the edges like the ones created by Paradox. Fireballs escaped from portals and crashed at their feet, sending seismic waves through the ground. An unsettling feeling rose from the pit of his stomach as the former mercenary shielded his eyes.  

Empire drew her blade and stabbed it into the ground for stability. The captain knight held her ground with gritted teeth. She kneeled down and clamped her eyes shut from the brightness of 

the fireballs. Crusader mouthed unheard words over the chaos, reaching out to check on his teammate. 

Smoke and fire lingered in the air when the shaking stopped. The fireballs ceased but Nova knew that wasn’t the end of it. The earthquake opened to be brimming with agate and crystals from the Shadow Vein nearby. It wouldn’t be long before demons show up in the wake of the dimension’s demise.      

“We need to evacuate everyone,” Nova shouted to his teammates over the chaos. 

“There’s twenty-four of them and five of us,” Metamorphy did a quick headcount. “Three of us can take them to a safe place where time and space won’t be affected by all of us existing. This means…” 

“Ten people for each of us,” Paradox said. “One of us will only have nine people including ourselves. You two already have the coordinates. I won’t waste time explaining something you two already know.”

For once, Herrscher and Metamorphy didn’t stop to argue the time traveler. Paradox wasn’t an easy person to work with, but was the most familiar with traveling between dimensions. Delaying their evacuation could spell the end for all of them. 

“We’re going as smaller groups to find your friends,” Metamorphy explained to the strangers. “Once everyone in our groups are here, we’ll be taking you to a safe place. Why don’t you and Eve come with me?”

His concern mirrored Nova’s. A man who rarely raised his voice, Blade was more comfortable letting others talk while he processed their words. He wore a permanent frown and wasn’t quick to trust, putting thought before he spoke and asking questions before making final decisions.     

Ultimate assessed the offer. Examining the new El Search Party with mild interest, Nova caught a faint smile at the edge of her lips. The simple gesture was a reminder that she was sentient and alive, a contrast from the Eve that went by the name Code: Sariel.     

“I will join,” Ultimate said after an uncomfortable moment of silence. It was Moby who beeped, bouncing up and down midair in agreement to the Nasod Queen’s decision. “Do you want me to notify the two El Search Parties about the new arrangement?” 

“That would be great!” Immortal beamed, “Add will tell you where to meet up and how to split the groups.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Paradox scowled, but pulled out a set of screens to type in the locations and details to send over to Ultimate. “Will this be enough?”

Ultimate didn’t answer immediately. A small ping caused her eyes to briefly light up as the Nasod queen scanned Paradox’s message. With a small nod, her lips quivered as she drafted a message to send to the two El Search parties. Remy beeped once as Ultimate promptly dispatched the memo. 

“Thank you, Add.” Ultimate closed her eyes. “We will be meeting them in our respected groups.”

“Hey, you.” Paradox waved his arm over to Dominator. “Edgy brat and the mouse will be with us.” 

“I’m edgy?” Immortal looked pleased at what was meant to be an insult. 

“Why am I a mouse?” Crusader asked. 

“I have a name!” Dominator exclaimed. 

Nova had trust that Paradox would stop the group of four from sidetracking. The time traveler was more goal-oriented than Immortal, who sometimes liked to stop and smell the roses. Eye shadows formed under his eyes, likely from lack of sleep and from the amount of energy required in dimensional traveling. The excessive portals in the sky reminded Nova of the man’s antics. He was happy to see Paradox being cooperative with their plan of escape, although the time traveler often took their orders as mere suggestions. 

“Is there something you wanted to say to me?” Paradox looked at Nova with suspicion. “Did the brat bring you here to convince me to stay with you losers?”    

“Something like that,” Nova laughed. “Good to see we caught up to you before you left. Ain and I were starting to think we wouldn’t find you.” 

“I doubt that,” Paradox said. “Am I really worth that effort?”

“Worth it or not, I’m happy to see you will be helping us in evacuating the people we have involved ourselves with.” Nova remarked.   

“Yeah, I’m a wonderful person.” Paradox rolled his eyes. “That leaves you with the rest.”

“I’m fine having Ain and Elesis join me,” Nova looked to Herrscher and Empire. “Do you mind?”

Herrscher shook his head. 

“We just met, but I will trust you because my teammates do.” Empire agreed.   

Before they left, Nova and Immortal made sure they all had the details sent to them by Ultimate based on Paradox’s coordinates. There wasn’t much time before the worse was to come. With little else left to say, Nova made eye contact with the remaining members of the opposing party before parting ways. He had to hope that all of them would act fast enough to avoid premature death. It won’t be long before demons are triggered by the increase of energy coming from the portals.

They headed to the eastern side of the main camp. The sun was starting to sink lower into the horizon when they made their way over with time to spare. Herrscher moved silently beside Nova with no word coming from the abyssal being, a single eye glued to the ground. Empire was more apprehensive, dashing forward with an alert eye over her shoulder with one hand ready to pull out her claymore. 

“We’re about five minutes away from our destination,” Nova announced. He slowed himself into a light jog to check the map again. This part of the Demon Realm was similar to the one he and his friends had visited in the past, albeit the falling sky and crumbling dimension.

“Did Paradox make your communicators too?” Empire asked. She showed interest in the devices he and Herrscher possessed. 

Designed as an earpiece, each was individually designed to fit comfortably into their owners’ ears. Each device was pristine white with its edges bordered in thin lines of black and pink. Light glowed from its centered blue core marked by a gold trim. With the newest updates, it was able to pick up signals as long as each member was within a short radius.    

“No,” Nova said. “Eve did.” 

The ground shook. A group of Shadow Drillers emerged from the caverns of the Shadow Vein, scurrying out on their fours and shrieking. Dozens trampled over each other as they struggled to run away from the chaos of the shaking earth. One stepped over another’s tail and snarled. Their cries enraged the rest of the group. One of them made eye contact with Nova and charged.

“Not good,” Nova crossed his blade with a Shadow Driller skull bashing into the base. 

“They think we’re the cause of this?” Empire whipped out her claymore. “They’re agitated!”  

“Not my concern,” Herrscher said. Pulling his scythe from behind, he produced a white sharpened edge. Dark clouds formed as he suctioned the demons inward to immobilize the frenzied crowd. Black blood squirted out from where Herrscher marked them. 

Nova wrestled for control of his blade from a trio of the shadow monsters lunging after his weapon. Flames burst from his Nasod arm to ward off the rest of the Shadow Drillers. Dashing inward, he coated his blade with fire. The demons cried from the intense heat and lashed back.    

Red sparks flew from Empire’s blade. She threw herself to the side from a demon curling itself into a ball and rolling out to the red knight.  It fired hardened spikes out from the sharp stubs on its body. Empire hissed in pain and let out a warrior cry. Her blade lit up red and gold as she spun around. Demon bodies were tossed into the air and Empire struck through their bodies before they could hit the floor.

Sweat collected at his forehead and energy concentrated from the core of his Nasod arm. Sparks flared from his fingertips. Heat rose and fanned the back of his hair. Flames ignited and burned the demons down, rising higher. Another source of fire exploded from the sides. That wasn’t his flame. A fire demon?    

“Sword Fire!” A red-haired man stepped into the flames. He pulled out a great blade and swiped at the masses. 

Red runes with the fire insignia became visible in the air. Nova and the demons looked up at the curiosity. The runes glowed a brilliant light before imploding onto their targets, setting the shadow monsters into ablaze. The demons scattered in the surprise ambush, bumping into one another in their attempt to escape. 

“Supreme Punishment!” Two figures appeared together. 

The enemy was cornered by larger demons summoned by blue flames. The Shadow Drillers and the Shadow Guards whimpered when they were tossed aside. Their eyes glowered at being outnumbered and sank back into the shadows. 

“How anticlimactic,” Timoria yawned and pointed to the brawler on her right. “It’s his fault we showed up late. You were the last to wake up.” 

“How is it my fault?” Bringer twitched, “You took forever to pack when the elf woke you up first!” 

“Lu, it’s too early to argue over something so trivial.” Abysser sighed, “Can’t you take this argument later when we’re evacuated?” 

“Sorry to keep you guys waiting!” Rune grinned, “Hope we weren’t being an inconvenience!” 

“Is everyone all right?” Daybreaker rushed over to inspect the burns on Nova’s arm. “You should get that checked! You’re losing blood!”

“I’ll heal him,” Bluhen said with an easy smile. 

“The dimension will collapse soon,” Herrscher started. 

“We are not leaving,” Daybreaker snapped. 

Her pale face illuminated under the moon to show the shadow under her eyes. She glared at Herrscher as if challenging the abyssal being to ignore her. Herrscher had a cool expression and lowered his scythe. Nova mouthed a thanks for Herrscher to see. This Rena wasn’t Twilight, but her words still had bite if tempered enough. 

In contrast to Herrscher, Bluhen was if someone took the abyssal dweller’s color scheme and saturated it by several shades. Bluhen’s face was framed by bright green eyes and gray feathered hair. Carrying a mischievous smile, there was no weight in his steps as he blasted away the remaining demons before hopping over to Empire with his hands behind his back. 

Taking the former mercenary’s injured arm, Bluhen produced a water bottle to clean his wound. Angry red flashed across Nova’s skin. The familiar pain hissed through his pores as Bluhen applied pressure into his wound. Dense light sang through his skin and Nova felt a jolt of energy travel through his body. When he opened his eyes, the wound had closed and appeared to be a few days old. Bluhen didn’t break a sweat. Impressed by the healing magic, Nova commended the priest and thanked him with a curt nod.  

“You’re lucky there’s a healer,” Bringer said. 

Nova looked up from where he sat to see a set of narrowed eyes. The brawler crossed his arms with a haughty look on his face. This was Add? Lacking the black sclera, Bringer made himself appear bigger by standing with a straight back and had more color in his complexion than Paradox.  

“You don’t need to make everything sound like a vague threat,” Empire facepalmed.

“No, he’s right.” Bluhen agreed. “They would have lost the fight because they were outnumbered and outpowered.” 

Bringer gawked at the priest, surprised by Bluhen’s response but said nothing. He blinked a lot and coughed to cover his embarrassment. Placing a hand over his mouth, Nova could see Bluhen fighting back a smile.  

“Of course, I’m right.” Bringer boasted.  

“It’s good to see you had no trouble finding us,” Nova said. He hid his bemusement in the silent exchange between the two. “We’ll be leaving once my friend completes the preparations.”   

Bluhen lifted Nova’s arm up, applying pressure again to the previously injured joints to check for broken bones he may have missed. Pleased with the results, he offered Nova an elixir often used for soldiers suffering heavy blood loss. Judging by the panicked look in Empire’s face and Daybreaker’s reaction, his injuries must have been concerning for the group to halt everything. Nova accepted the elixir, popped open the flask, and chugged it in one gulp. He focused on the bitter taste from the berries used to make it. 

“He drank it all?” Rune’s jaw dropped. 

Herrscher floated over to Nova, ignoring the stares from the strangers as he pulled out his scythe. People stepped back, raising their weapons before Nova shook his head and waved his Nasod arm. 

“He’s going to open a rift for us,” Nova explained. “I’ll stay at the end to make sure everyone makes it to the other side. There isn’t much time before it closes, so we’ll have to be quick.”  

Bluhen’s eyes fell over to Herrscher with interest. The priest had his hands clasped together as he carefully studied the celestial. It was a shame their stay was temporary. None of the differences will matter at the end of the day unless Metamorphy was willing to do more interdimensional traveling.     

“Richtie told me about you,” Bluhen said without looking up. He saw Herrscher’s confusion and explained, “The one who tried to kill you.” 

“Celestials don’t die,” Herrscher said. “I’m not as human as you.”

“Then why do you help them?” Bluhen asked. 

“Elsword told me to.” 

“I see.” Bluhen’s pleasant smile wavered, visibly disturbed by Herrscher’s indifference. More questions threatened to roll off his tongue, but instead turned to Nova, “Everything is healed. Don’t strain that arm for at least a few days.” 

“Thank you,” Daybreaker said. “Will this world be destroyed?”

“I don’t know,” Nova admitted. “But we’ll do everything we can to make sure everyone makes it out of this.” 

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, Daybreaker crossed her legs and ran a finger over her bow. The resemblance between her and Twilight was strong in the way she looked past Nova’s relaxed smile. 

Swinging his scythe to the side, Herrscher dragged the sharp blade from across. Green light shone as he ripped into the hems of space to cut open a thin line. Pulling back, Herrscher forced a portal open to reveal a dark void looming back at the abyssal being. The opening was big enough for a person to walk through. 

“The portal won’t remain open for long. ” Herrscher said. “Elsword, you should go first.” 

“Go ahead,” Empire nodded to Rune. “We’ll be right behind you.” 

Everyone gathered and filed into a line with Rune at the front. Winking to his teammates, Rune turned around to walk through the portal. In a flash, the redhead had disappeared before being followed by his sister and the rest behind them. Nova was left with Herrscher maintaining the portal. The celestial remained still.  

“Do you think there really is a way to undo this mess?” Nova surveyed the damage caused by Paradox. 

Herrscher replied, “That is not my concern.” 

“I would be surprised if it was,” Nova chuckled. “We should join them before they worry about us.” 

Herrscher nodded. 

Walking past the lines that blurred between different dimensions, Nova’s vision went black. His surroundings vanished as he was joined by Herrscher beside him. They had to hope that their teammates were as lucky as them in escorting the other El Search Parties. It wouldn’t be long before they learned if their plan was a success. 

----------------------------

Mad Paradox

Being the generous person he was, Paradox agreed to go with the edgy brat’s plan. What else was there to do with a dimension threatening to burst open from the insides? Not that it was his intention. If he wanted to wreck a dimension, there were more efficient (and better) ways to do it. 

There was no benefit out of destroying the current one where Knight and his… friends resided in because they probably wouldn’t even notice until it was too late. What was the fun in that? Watching Knight squirm from demons was enough entertainment for the time traveler, but alas, that came to an early end. He wasn’t going to pit himself against a mob of adventurers over one boy. 

A loud crack snapped from behind Paradox. Gravity pulled him in and the man fell through the portal he had created, landing neatly on his twos and balancing on Dynamo to support his weight. The screams of full-grown men followed coming from Immortal, Crusader, and Dominator crashing at his feet.    

“Your cannon is on my foot!” Immortal shouted. 

“I’m sorry!” Crusader pulled the oversized weapon away from the researcher. 

“Both of you are too heavy!” Dominator complained. 

How could those three make so much noise when they were the only ones here? Paradox hopped off Dynamo to watch the three idiots fumble around. Crushed by Crusader and Immortal, Dominator came out at the bottom of the pile. He waved one arm to grab onto Crusader’s cannon and glare at the blond. The guardian of Hamel scratched the back of his neck with a feeble smile. 

Immortal sat on top of the two with one leg over the other. He screamed when Dominator sat up and had Dynamo nudge the sword user away. Waving his arms around, Immortal hopped around before falling over Crusader. Both men howled in pain because one jabbed an armored elbow into the other’s stomach. 

“If you’re done, would you like to stand up so I don’t look like a fool when the other brats are here?” Paradox drawled.  

“Why couldn’t you just portal us then go back to rescue the others?” Crusader asked. Pulling one knee up, he got up on his feet with his Destroyer over one shoulder. 

“I’m not doing more work than I need to,” Paradox scoffed. 

A set of eyes landed on Paradox. Their gaze fixed onto the back of his head as he gingerly flicked a piece of dirt off his plugsuit. He knew whose eyes they were. Who else would it be? Paradox had lost track of the number of times this similar scenario had occurred, too many times for it to bother him. He was reluctant to admit that he missed the novelty of discovering alternate dimensions when the other El Search Parties marveled over their counterparts.   

Grumbling to himself about being dogpiled by heavy people, Dominator was busy patting the dust off his clothes. He Dynamo was a set of magenta-colored cubes, blinking light as they floated beside the scientist. Looking at Dominator was blinding. Dressed in a white suit with lilac and gold accents, his appearance and behavior was exactly how Paradox remembered. How could someone wear so much white? 

“Can I help you?” Paradox tried not to laugh when their eyes met.

The time traveler recognized the stare he was receiving from Dominator. It was the analytical gaze, fighting to make use of every bit of knowledge the researcher had about Nasods and time travel to understand Paradox’s existence. He knew a part of his shoulder chipped every few minutes or so. Not even the heaviest jacket could hide that because it also disappeared with the rest of his body if he wasn’t paying attention. 

“Does it exhaust your energy to maintain two forms?” Dominator asked. 

Of course Dominator would want to know. Paradox wasn’t fazed by the intrusive question, tucking his limbs inward and gloved hands over his knees while sitting on Dynamo. Crusader and Immortal exchanged questioning looks to each other, debating to themselves whether or not to join. The guardian of Hamel chose to sit on the ground while Immortal leaned back against one of his swords planted in the rough terrain. Dominator remained standing, ignoring Dynamo nudging the scientist to sit down. 

“No,” Paradox laughed. This Dominator was faster about asking personal questions than the last one. “I simply choose to be one form more than the other.” 

It was easier to conserve energy by investing in one form than the other. He often opted for the child form for its utility but preferred his adult form when given the chance.  

“And this is all done with Nasods?” Dominator asked. 

“This is beyond technology and science,” Paradox said. “Having second thoughts about time traveling, Domi?” 

“Domi?” Crusader covered his mouth mid-yawn. 

“No,” Dominator stiffened. Good, then Dominator must have done the calculations to realize that genuine time traveling to their past wasn’t possible. The scientist crossed his arms and looked over to Dynamo in deep thought. “That’s not my current goal.” 

At least one of them was the sensible one with realistic goals. 

“Why would you waste your time dealing with us?” Dominator asked. 

“Would you prefer to stay and become an inverted donut?” Paradox drawled. “It’ll be over before you can even think about it, but fun to watch.”

“A donut?” Crusader squeaked. 

“An inverted one,” Immortal said unhelpfully. 

Paradox grinned. 

Making the El Search Party squirm never became old, unless it was the transformation path. Then it became a hassle because none of them took Paradox seriously or laughed with him. He fought the urge to roll his eyes about his teammates, or whatever they were. Teammates was a loose interpretation of his relationship with the people he sometimes chose to involve himself with when wandering through time and space was getting dull.   

Dominator was less affected by Paradox’s threat and rubbed his chin, likely musing over his words and rendering its meaning. The scientist was never one to take words at the surface level. None of the Adds did, but Dominator liked to tread over his thoughts and actions before settling on one. 

“You’ve gone through many timelines to be familiar with what happens when you mess with time and space,” Dominator stated. 

Perceptive as always, Paradox rested his head back. He couldn’t expect less from his counterpart’s intuitive eye.

“Then it shouldn’t be a surprise that you’re not the first Dominator I’ve met.” Paradox winked, “Did you say hi to Doom Doom for me?” 

A small noise of discontent came from Dominator. ‘Cat’ came to mind when Dominator tucked his arms over his lap and mumbled something about a meathead. Dominator waved away Dynamo bouncing against the side of the scientist’s head.    

“How did you know about that nickname?” Crusader asked.

“As I said, this is not the first time I’ve met you.” Paradox said. 

Observant, but still reactive to the unknown. It was too easy to spook his alternate, Paradox giggled. He knew it was easy to scare Crusader too if he was in the mood to test how jittery the guardian of Hamel was. Better not push them to the edge so early when the rest of the party hasn’t arrived yet. They were waiting for six more before departing to the next world. 

“How did you learn to control portals?” Crusader asked. 

Paradox continued smiling, showing his sharp teeth for an answer. The question in itself didn’t bother him, but the number of times and how it was a different person from each dimension asking the question did. He lost track of how many times a person asked the big old question as if he was obligated to retell them his sob story. It reopened old wounds to form new ones on his visible failures to save Mother. They didn’t need to know about her or why he was partially stuck with the form of a child. 

Immortal forced a laugh. The sword wielder raised one arm and smacked Crusader’s back with enough force to make the blond straighten his posture. 

“No need to fuss about the details,” the sword wielder beamed. “You can forget about us once this is sorted out!” 

“How can we forget about you and the other people we’ve met?” Crusader said, “Everyone is so different from their other selves, but it helps cover all our weaknesses in the things we usually can’t do. I know it’s best that we all return to where we came from, but I think it would help if we were to learn from each other before we leave.” 

“That’s for the man to decide,” Immortal shrugged. “As you may know, we’re not meant to be together without threatening our worlds.” 

“Are you talking about Paradox?” Crusader was confused. 

His question was thankfully interrupted by the sound of a woman screaming. Good, no more questions from the brats! Crusader was almost as bad as Dominator about asking questions and Immortal was no help warding them off his back. Continuing to lean back in a pose he claimed was ‘cool’ and feigning an innocent smile made it clear that Immortal was enjoying seeing the time traveler gain the spotlight.   

Immortal and Crusader rushed over to see a young woman at the bottom of a steep hill. She was lying on the floor with her legs comically sticking up in the air. Her white gown hung her body like tissue paper and her face was bruised by her poor landing. 

“Are you okay?” Flame frantically went over to check on Apsara. There were five other strangers with the Flame Lord with different reactions to their fallen teammate.  

“I warned her about the hill and she still fell,” Oz sighed. 

“Is this the feeling humans call disappointed?” Esencia asked. 

“That’s a strong word to use,” Crusader sweatdropped.  

“Can you feel your fingers?” Anemos asked. 

“I can feel them fine!” Apsara sat up and pouted. Her eyes lightened up when she saw Crusader, “Chung! Are these the people who will be helping us?”

“You mean Paradox and Immortal?” Crusader asked. “I think so. We can leave once everyone is here, right?” 

This wasn’t a party of adventurers, it was a mob. There were still a lot of people even after splitting them into three groups. It wasn’t there was a fourth person who could consistently transport multiple people to another dimension. 

“Thank you for helping us,” Rage said. He was a masculine man, whose armor barely covered his body and was recognized by the grotesque Nasod arm. The arm was a living organism that breathed in unison with its host.   

“Sure,” Paradox said. His muscles tensed in response to the El Search Party’s gratitude and reliance on him. 

“What took you so long?” Dominator asked. 

“We got lost,” Oz said. “Even with Escencia, it isn’t an easy map to read when the landmass is shifting.” 

“That’s because of all you extras,” Paradox snarked.  

“Which will be fixed soon,” Immortal added while glaring at him. 

“How can you say that with so much confidence?” Anemos asked. “Will this plan restore what has been lost?” 

“There’s no need to fight,” Apsara protested. “They’re offering to help us. Isn’t that enough? I’m sure more will be explained once we’re in a safer place.” 

“Since we are the cause of the world becoming unstable, removing ourselves would be the first step to repairing the damage.” Escencia said, “There’s no need in delaying our departure.” 

“Then a neutral zone where all of us can exist is the best place to be?” Flame asks. 

“Try not to throw us to the side or upside down this time,” Dominator waved his hand. “Some of us get motion sick.” 

Paradox made a note to absolutely open a portal flipped upside down. His smile made Dominator turn paler than he already was. The scientist sweated when Paradox opened his mouth to show pointed teeth. Black saliva dripped from his mouth and cackled when Dominator screamed.  

“Enough, already!” Immortal lost his patience and snapped, “Quit fooling around!” 

Sticking out his tongue, Paradox manipulated Dynamo to give a few twirls before opening a series of portals. They merged into a bigger portal. Its outer edge was formed by time crystals channeled by El resonance. Pink sparks flew dangerously from them, but it wouldn’t be a problem as long as Paradox was still here to control it. 

Turning to grin at the bewildered adventurers, Paradox laughed. No one could understand time and space travel, not even him. Maybe Immortal’s insane plan would work, but he wasn’t one to hold his breath. After all, repairing dimensions was a messy business even Paradox had little experience in. However, Paradox wasn’t going to be the one fixing the mess. That was someone else’s problem. 

As each group member exited into the portal, Paradox closed his eyes. The sky was a ruinous red. Dust and ash from shaken earth were still coming down. It wouldn’t be long before this dimension would see its demise unless that someone could fix it. Well, that wasn’t his problem. The last to leave, Paradox leaped onto Dynamo and flew through the portal, following the screams made by the rest of the El Search Party.  

----------------------------

Metamorphy

No amount of glitter and magic was going to resolve Metamorphy’s problem sitting opposite to each other and avoiding eye contact. Knight and Aether arrived at their meeting spot in a shouting match before Furious Blade had to separate them, still shouting to each other as Metamorphy begged them to calm down. Code: Ultimate’s glassy eyes reflected when the queen of destruction said the new members were not part of their original party. 

No matter, that didn’t change the original plan in gathering everyone to fix Paradox’s latest fuck up. Or at the very least mitigate whatever damage was done to the current world to prevent its complete collapse. There was still time. 

The tension in the air was palpable between Knight and Aether. Covered in a thin sheen of dried sweat, Knight had his hands curled into fists over his lap in a quiet fume. Aether was less secretive about it and had her arms crossed, turning her head away from the redhead with a small huff. Her counterpart was cruel in giving Knight the cold shoulders, but Metamorphy also didn’t know what could have caused Aether to give the redhead that type of treatment. 

“Are there more coming?” Blade asked. 

“We’re still waiting on five people,” Metamorphy said.  

The magical girl checked the message sent by Ultimate and forwarded to dozens of other people. As expected from Seraph’s alternate, it was succinct with a set of precise directions and a map leading to the meeting location. They were to meet north of the camping site, still within the range of the canyons surrounding the Shadow Vein. She was expecting the El Search Party to arrive as a group, but Knight said something about Chevalier still packing for the trip. Metamorphy recently received two messages that Herrscher and Paradox had gathered their groups to leave. She didn’t expect her group to be the last one! 

Man, this blows. Metamorphy blew a stray strand of hair hanging over her eyes. Watching herself pretend Knight wasn’t sitting across from her was painful. Placing one finger under her chin and tilting her head to the side in thought, Metamorphy frowned. It looked like it was time for her to interfere before one of them did something stupid out of spite. 

“Hey, do you have any questions you want to ask before we leave?” Metamorphy asked in the most cheerful tone she could without twitching her eyelids. She leaned against Aether and forced a smile, “I’m sure you must have a lot of questions about where we’re going!”

“I would if someone would stop hesitating every time we’re trying to save ourselves.” Aether purposely gave a side-eye to Knight with venom in her voice.   

“It’s not always about us,” Knight lost his temper. “We’re going to leave behind the people we said we were going to help!” 

“You can’t help people if you’re dead,” Aether said. 

“We’ll figure out how to save both of us without abandoning them,” he argued. 

“Like you did when you committed suicide by sacrificing yourself to the El?” She snarked. 

“Is this what it’s about?” Knight growled, “I wasn’t trying to kill myself! It was either me or Elesis. I only wanted to save her and everyone else!” 

“That’s so heroic of you,” Metamorphy feigned a swoon and batted her eyelashes. She tried not to laugh at Knight’s blank look and stiffened posture. The boy was clearly unused to that sort of response. “Giving yourself away because you see little value in yourself over that of something bigger than you.” 

Metamorphy beamed when she felt two pairs of eyes glaring at her and did a little curtsy with her skirt. She knew she had hit a sore spot because Knight clawed his hands over his armor with extra fervor and gritted his teeth. The magical girl could see the wheels turning of Knight fighting back the temptation to snap at a stranger that shared his teammate’s face.  

“Is that what you think he did?” Aether was the first to speak. Good, her attention was directed to someone else than the person she was taking her anger out on for the last twenty minutes. She was looking at Metamorphy as if she was seeing a ghost. 

“Did I get the details right?” Metamorphy asked with an innocent smile. She switched to a darker expression and lowered her intonation into a more sober one, “All Elswords share the same brain cell. Every one of them will do some variation of the same event. Yours isn’t any different than ours.”

“What did your Elsword do?” The Eve called Ultimate asked. Her cold exterior was veiled by concern and curiosity, traits Metamorphy hasn’t seen on Seraph in years. It was saddening to see that most Eves retained their emotions except for the one Metamorphy grew up with.  

“Gave himself away to the El to save his sister,” Metamorphy said. “His sister was saved, but he wasn’t. We were lucky to find his body and pull him back before the El permanently consumed him. The El extended his powers over the Dark El and made him stronger. ” 

“But his sister isn’t here?” Blade noted the use of past tense.

“No one has seen her in weeks,” Metamorphy showed her discomfort. Immortal put on a happy face, but she knew it was all a farce. Pulling the team together was his last attempt to find a purpose in retrieving the El as a guise to relocate Bloody Queen. “We came here looking for Paradox because Immortal wanted everyone together to fight against the new enemy. It didn’t occur to us that there would be more of you.” 

Knight was silent. All of his anger disappeared in place with a solemn smile. He was sympathizing with Immortal, nodding in understanding despite little else being said about the sword user. Metamorphy didn’t have to say more. 

No matter the size of the enemy or new cause, all Elswords saw the importance of gathering as many allies as possible. It made hiding from enemies difficult because of the sheer size of their group, but it gave them an advantage in number. However, with Queen missing in addition to Paradox and the demons appearing sporadically, their current team was standing at eight permanent team members. She knew it broke Immortal’s heart to see it remain relatively small for an adventurer party in comparison to the other paths. 

“No one would be angry at you for leaving,” Metamorphy looked at Knight with a kind expression. “You did what you could to help them. They would have liked you to take care of yourself too.” 

“That’s what Elesis told me too,” Knight said. “I feel like leaving is letting them know I failed.” 

“Failing in what?” Ultimate asked. 

“Helping them from the source of their home being destroyed,” Knight explained. “Someone out there is going to use the Dark El for selfish reasons.” 

“As to be expected,” Blade said. “When something of great power exists, there will always be people seeking for it as they did with the El. I haven’t met these people you speak of, but they have made it to this point on their own before you step foot here. Like you and your friends, they will find a way to make it through today.” 

“Are you saying there might be another way to save the El other than the Dark El?” Knight said. 

“I don’t know,” Blade admitted. Dressed in white, his Nasod arm was structured with balance and weight in mind. His face wasn’t framed in as many scars as Nova’s. “I do believe that you don’t need to sacrifice a part of yourself to help others. No war was won by a single person. It takes a group of dedicated people to make the changes that matter the most to people.” 

“Do you value yourself so lowly?” Aether asked. “Is it because of something we did or say to you? I just wanted you to know that you’re so important to the team. Without you, I don’t think we would have gotten to Velder, let alone to the Demon Realm. Our team would have fallen apart before that.” 

“I know,” Knight said. “I didn’t say anything before, but I’m scared. What if all of this was for nothing? We help the demons, but then there’s no Dark El. Or the Henir cultists found it first. So many things can go wrong…” 

Aether let out a soft laugh. Quiet and melodic, it bounced off the canyon walls surrounding the outside of Shadow Vein. Knight looked up from his lap, confused by her reaction and looking over to Metamorphy for a hint. The magical girl shrugged. 

“We place so much weight on you,” Aether said with a sad smile. “You didn’t have to take the lead, but you always did. With enthusiasm, but then that went away because of all the danger we were always in.” 

“Raven or Elesis should have been the leader,” Knight said. “They have more experience than me. What would a kid like me know?” 

“At eighteen years old, you are no longer a child.” Ultimate said, “but I agree that your current arrangement is not productive for the party. It would be more effective and efficient if you were to make more decisions as a group rather than rely on one person.” 

“Is that something your team does?” Knight asks. “Rune told me about it and I thought it was strange how different even our teams operate.” 

Is that how it worked for these two parties? Metamorphy was interested in hearing more. Every El Search Party had a different setup. Some relied on a single person as their leader, often Elsword unless he was killed or the responsibility was handed over to another person, usually Raven or Elesis. She once met a party led by Ciel. It was… strange and more often involved searching for ingredients for new recipes. Other parties made decisions as a group or focused on a few key members to make important decisions.       

“You don’t have to choose the path others did before you,” Blade said. “I think you of all people know that the most. Choose what works for you so you don’t overwork yourself.” 

“I want to help everyone,” Knight said. “But that isn’t possible, is it?” 

“We’ll help you,” Aether went over to sit next to Knight, leaning against the knight with a bright smile. “Once we’re back together with the others, we can start making decisions as a team.”

“Thanks, Aisha.” Knight smiled back, “You’re not so bad when you’re nice.” 

Aether twitched and threw her staff at the red-haired knight. Folding her arms across her chest, the mage spun around and scowled. So much for a short moment of peace, Metamorphy laughed.  

“Since when wasn’t I nice?” Aether asked. 

“I’m joking, I’m joking!” He held up both hands, “I didn’t mean it like that! I mean you’re cool, uh, thoughtful!”

“I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment,” Aether picked up her staff and pouted. 

“You’re expecting a lot of him to take a hint,” Metamorphy winked at her counterpart. “He doesn’t know, does he?”

“Know what?” Knight asked. 

“Thought so,” Metamorphy smirked. She cupped Knight’s face in between her gloved hands and gushed, “You’re so cute not knowing anything.” 

“Hey!” Aether protested. 

Knight’s face turned into the same color as his hair. 

Metamorphy dropped her hands and jokingly stuck out her tongue to her counterpart. She could see why Paradox was inclined to stay with the two groups. They were so much fun to talk to! She couldn’t wait to tell her teammates about the new people she had met.  

“They’re here,” Ultimate said. Pointing through her line of vision were five silhouettes framed by dark shadows cast by the sun against the granite floor. 

A woman in a black cocktail dress walked beside a man wearing white armor and a blue scarf. Devi was chuckling at something said by Phantom, who was pointing to Metamorphy and making gestures to himself. The cyan colored eyes and hair gave away Richter’s identity in how he kept looking back at the two demons walking behind him.  

Hulling heavy bags were Chevalier and Ishtar. Their eyes shone like stars, lost in their own separate conversation. Metamorphy overheard mentions of food and exotic spices from a faraway land. It was strange to see the demons be talkative over the dreaded silence she more frequently witnessed between Anular and Iblis.  

“There you are!” Metamorphy ran up to them with open arms, “Now we’re ready to take off!” 

“Where are we going?” Richter asked. 

“Will there be demons?” Devi smirked. 

“No demons,” Metamorphy shook her head. “I think you’ve all been to this place. Henir's Time and Space?”

“I see.” Phantom said, “It’s a neutral space because Glave made it so that there can be multiple copies of the same person.”

“You think Glave can fix this?” Chevalier asked. 

“He certainly has the abilities to suggest he can,” Ishtar remarked.  

“After telling us about the corrupted monsters, Glave must have seen some kind of use in us,” Blade said. “It wouldn’t hurt to ask him for help.”  

“Exactly!” Metamophy said, “Besides, I think there’s a way to reset this dimension so that any of the damage done right now will never happen.” 

“How?” Aether asked. 

Metamorphy looked at the nine people entrusted in her hands, knowing fully well that Immortal trusted her in taking them to safety. It was a lot to ask, but she wasn’t ready to give up on these people just yet. Despite the number of dimensions she had visited, she never stayed long enough to see the fates of their denizens. She wanted to see the future of the lively people she had barely talked to.  

“Why, I’m glad you asked!” Metamorphy heard herself speak. She clasped her hands together with a cheerful smile, “It means we’re going to let this dimension collapse on itself!” 

----------------------------

Author Notes: When I first drafted the outline for this fic, I imagined it to end by chapter 8. I started this fanfic out of the wish to see all the paths interact in some shape or form. It means a lot to me to see that many people want the same. Everyone’s feedback was encouraging and it helped me keep going. I’m not sure when the next update will occur because of work, but I plan on continuing with the story until the very end. Sorry for the long chapter. 

[oopsitsstella]

Tribute

Steve Rogers x Rosabella Barnes, Steve Rogers x OC

Fandom: The Avengers

Summary: Rosie find out about one of Steve’s tattoos

Warnings: Slight angst, but mostly just fluff, like one swear word (if you count hell as a swear word)

A/N: This was written before I had fleshed out all the details of Rosies story, so this is not part of Rosies main story

This fic was inspired by an art piece by @petite-madame here on tumblr called “I’m still here, Punk.” I recommend you check them out!

It had been just over two weeks since Rosie was brought out of Cyrofreeze. Getting used to the new time was a slight struggle, but having Steve by her side made it easier. He was there to help her if she got confused, he was there when she couldn’t fall asleep at night, he was there whenever she needed him, and if she didn’t.

The clock was nearing eleven at night, the sky outside the Avengers tower dark and littered with stars. Rose was sitting on the bed, her legs covered by the blankets, while Steve was in the bathroom, finishing getting ready for bed. When Steve finally joined her in bed, Rosie got ready to properly lay down under the covers, when she saw something peeking out from the edge of Steve’s t-shirt sleeve.

Rosabella was aware of Steve’s tattoos. She had seen a few of them, it was hard not too, with them being visible with him just wearing a t-shirt, but there were a few she still hadn’t seen.

“Is this another tattoo?” She asked, running her thumb over the dark ink she could see.

“Yeah, it is.” Steve said after looking to see what Rose was implying.

“Can I look?”

“Yeah, of course.” At his consent, Rose grabbed the sleeve of the t-shirt and pulled it up, and gasped when she saw what it was.

She was greeted with an image of a smiling woman, with long, brown hair and pale blue eyes. It was her. She was surrounded by a wreath of red roses and lilies of the valley. Underneath the image were two banners, one reading ‘Rosabella Barnes’ and the other reading ‘1920-1948’.

“Steve…” She spoke softly, running her hand over the tattoo. “It’s beautiful.”

“I wanted something to remember you by, a way to always have you with me. When I started getting some tattoos, I decided I should get one for you.” Steve explained, before chuckling. “But it seems I got one of the dates wrong.”

Rosie also chuckled. 1948, the year she went into Cyrofreeze.

“1948. And yet here I am.” She said.

“Thank god for that.” Steve said, his voice turning more serious. “I still feel bad for leaving you.”

“Steve, it’s not your fault.”

“I know, I know, you keep telling me, but I can’t help it.” Steve wrapped his arm around her, bringing her into a hug. “You already lost Bucky, you didn’t deserve to lose me too. You didn’t deserve to lose either of us.”

“Steve.” She said, turning his head to face her. “There’s nothing to be done about it now. It happened, yes, but it’s in the past. And I sure as hell don’t plan on leaving.”

“I still don’t know how I got so lucky.” Steve smiled softly.

Rose returned the smile, placing a kiss on his forehead.

“As much as I would love to stay up and talk about how much I love you, can we please go to sleep?” Rosie asked, making Steve chuckle. “We can stay in bed tomorrow and talk about it then.”

“I like the sound of that.” Steve said, laying down with Rose still in his arms.

“Maybe we should do something about the dates on the tattoo.” Rosie mused after a moment.

“Oh yeah? What do you think we should do? Cross it out?” Steve asked.

“I mean… we could.” Steve laughed her words.

“Just that or do you want to add something? Could write a message.”

“What would you add?”

“I don’t know. You could remind me I’m still here. A reassurance.”

“I mean I could always do that in person.” Rosie said, nuzzling her face into the crook of Steve’s neck. “I’m still here, sweetheart.”

“You could write that.” Steve said, making Rose laugh. “Cross out 1948 and write ‘I’m still here, sweetheart’ underneath.”

“I kinda want to do that now.” Rose said, laughter still in her voice.

“I think we’ll have to think about this more tomorrow.” Steve said, tightening his arms around her. “Right now, I want to sleep, and hold you in my arms.”

“I think I could do that.”

[fanfic-scribbles]

Heroic Gestures

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Summary: Bucky saves you, you save Bucky. In different ways, but still– it’s all in a day’s work for a couple of heroes.

(Shut up Steve.)

Quick facts: Romance – [established] Reader/Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers – Nondescript Reader

Warnings: Some Reader peril, liberal usage of humor in a scary situation, little hurt and much comfort

Words: 2259

A/N: If you’re currently going ‘what gives, didn’t I see this this morning?’ yeah, that was a ‘whoopsie’ on my part; I posted it, had some technical glitches, tried to fix it on mobile while I was at work and borked it to the point where I had to delete it and wait until I got home. I promise I’m not spamming, I’m just technologically inept. Also anybody who can edit posts on mobile is smarter and braver than me <3

      ~

  Today had been going so well– you ran some errands, you cleaned the kitchen, you changed the password on Bucky’s computer so he can’t skip out on quality time with you when he gets home from his stupid SHIELD thing–

“Where is it?”

You're not sure how an otherwise mostly-pleasant morning has topped off with you tied to a chair in the middle of your ransacked living room, but you are going to kick somebody for it.

“I don’t know what ‘it’ is!” you snap and then gasp when the man’s face contorts in anger. Okay, easy; don’t piss off the guy with the gun sitting in arm’s reach. “I- I don’t know what you’re talking about; I don’t, I swear.”

He sighs like you’re the dumbest person he’s ever met. Rude. You could say a lot of things about a guy who breaks into someone else’s home, throws everything all over the place, and then starts asking where something is without telling the person he’s asking what he’s looking for. But you won’t. Mostly because he has a gun. And a knife. And a lot of muscles. Really, you’re more of a lover than a fighter, and you intend to keep it that way.

Unfortunately the man in front of you has a face only a mother could love, and a personality that you hope no one would care for. He grinds his teeth and takes a deep breath, which is good, you think. “Earlier today, Tony Stark came by and dropped off a package,” he says slowly. He raises both of his thin eyebrows. “Ring any bells?”

Ah, Tony. You are so kicking him later. “Honestly, no,” you say, because it is unfortunately not uncommon for Tony to just ‘drop in’ from time to time to do things like leave weird ‘presents,’ or upgrade your security system without asking, or stick rude notes that are too funny to get mad at on the refrigerator. Steve and Bucky don’t know how he gets in. Well they should be happy to not-know that you are so revoking his key after today.

The man grips your chin to painful degrees. “I don’t!” you insist, panicking that this is about to get way worse. But then he suddenly lets go.

And then he hits you. Hard enough to turn your head. Hard enough that half your face starts to throb. Despite your attempts to keep cool, you tear up a little. “I wasn’t even that rough,” he says and yanks your face back into line. When he does you catch a glimpse of someone lurking in the shadows– and the familiar glint of metal makes you able to breathe again.

“It can and will get worse,” Big Ugly tells you very seriously. You almost smirk, because yeah, it’s going to. And you hope Bucky lets you get a kick of your own in for good measure. But Bad Guy lets go of your face and sits back, smug and self-satisfied. For now. “Now– what did Stark give you?”

You sigh. “If Tony left anything then it would probably have been for one of the other two Avengers I live with. You’ll have to ask them.”

The man’s eyes flit suspiciously, but he doesn’t look around, even as he acquires a large and menacing shadow. “Oh really?” he asks sarcastically, like he doesn’t believe you have even so much as a roommate. In a brownstone. In Brooklyn.

Tourist.

“So where are they?” he asks and leans just a little too far back, away from you, and towards–

Bucky strikes, metal arm like a shining silver cobra, and grabs the other man by the throat, hauling him up over the chair he’s sitting him and pulling him back gagging and gasping and flailing so your beautiful specter can growl into his ear, “Right. Here.”

~

“I can’t believe you didn’t let me kick him.”

“I didn’t want you anywhere near him,” Bucky mutters and keeps dabbing at your face. You didn’t even feel the blood so you must be cleaned up by now, but repetitive motions can help soothe him when he’s like this, and right now Bucky looks like he’s a million miles away. “Steve’s gonna kill me.”

Steve will do no such thing and you both know it, but it doesn’t seem like a particularly comforting fact right now. “He’s gonna have to go through me,” you say and put your hand over his to hold the cloth there. “How are you feeling?”

He gives you a Look. “I punched him.”

“So pretty good then?”

You catch a hint of a smile before he dips his head down low. “Hey,” you say and hold his face, bringing him back up. You rub familiar stubble with your fingertips and cradle his jaw in the palms of your hands. “It’s not your fault. He came because he saw Tony. It’s not Tony’s fault either. It’s his fault. You saved me. Nothing really terrible happened. Breathe, baby.”

He does. He doesn’t look all that happy or relieved about it, but it’s not your place to harangue him out of having emotions.

“That said, maybe I can get Tony to do a drop off in an Amazon locker next time.”

Harangue, maybe not. Encourage some others, definitely yes, and Bucky rewards you by breathing a brief laugh. He then shakes his head and goes back to dabbing your face. “Steve is going to kill me.”

~

You should have bet on it because when Steve comes home a couple of days later, Bucky walks in right behind him completely hale and hearty– much like Steve, who predicts your running jump with such aplomb that he drops his bag to the floor just in time to catch you. “You’re okay!” you say, legs wrapped around his waist, and you kiss him several times over while he takes you over to the couch and sits with you on his lap.

“Likewise,” Steve says and runs a gentle hand up the side of your face. You didn’t think you looked that bad, but he adds, “Bucky told me what happened. How are you feeling?”

Bucky is currently lurking in the big armchair off on the side, watching the two of you like he’s afraid to interact. You hope he got his kisses in when he greeted Steve at the airfield. Actually, scratch that– you hope Steve got his kisses in, because Bucky is full-on into self-flagellation mode for not having been psychic about a wanna-be terrorist stalking Tony for a delivery the boys weren't even expecting.

Still, you try. “I’m fine. Bucky swooped in, all knight-in-shining-armor-y, and saved me.” You smile at Bucky while still addressing Steve. “I’m no shrinking violet, but I felt braver when I saw him.”

Bucky perks up from his busy ‘Sit Morosely in a Chair’ activity. “Really?”

“Mm hm,” you say, still enthused with running your hands over Steve’s. Luckily he never seems to mind how touchy you get after a mission.

“I’m sure you were brave,” Steve says and brings up your hands to kiss them.

“Nope!” you say, too cheerful on purpose. You sit back on the couch and drape your legs across Steve’s lap. “So, here’s what happened: one day while I was out, completely unbeknownst to me, Tony came over and dropped something off.” You put Steve’s hands on your thighs and pat them. “And don’t worry; I have since talked to Tony about dropping by when one of us isn’t home.”

“So have I,” Bucky mutters.

“Shush! This is my story,” you say and shoot Bucky a glare. He crosses his arms and looks away, so you clear your throat. “Anyway. Unbeknownst to Tony, he was being watched by someone else. Dundunduuuu–”

“AIM,” Bucky murmurs and you glare at him again. He puts his hand to his mouth.

“So, I got home after running some errands and one of the mysterious evil people watching the house decided to make their move,” you say, but Bucky looks so sad again you think…why not have a little fun with it. “He forced his way into my apartment, but I held him off…” for five seconds, but you punch the air and say, “–with my untapped assassin powers!”

Steve lets out a startled laugh and Bucky looks at you like you’re crazy, but he’s stopped looking sad, so you run with it. You nod emphatically. “Yes, to my surprise, I held him off with magically discovered physical ability that would make even Natasha say “whoaaaa.’”

Bucky snorts and his hand is less for showing you he’s going to behave and more for covering up a smile. That’s way better, and totally worth the pain you’ll endure if Natasha ever finds out your impression of her sounds more like Bill and/or Ted than her. You grin and continue with your story. “We fought for hours. I was amazing.”

“Well, I have seen you catch a chip when it started to drop on the other side of the room,” Steve says thoughtfully.

You snap your fingers and point at him. “See? Same motivation.” You then mock a swoon. “Alas, my hubris got the best of me and I was defeated. I awoke, tied to a chair.” You put your hand to your chest. “My own fault; I underestimated my lesser-but-still-formidable opponent. So, he interrogated me. It was kind of scary, but I gave him nothing.” You lift your hands when you shrug. “Mostly because I didn’t know shit. But! Also because I’m brave and stout of heart and yadda yadda.”

Steve is doing real bad at trying not to laugh, and Bucky, though more composed now and trying to be stern, is cracking fast. Good. “And then.” You clasp your hands over your heart as though to keep it in your chest. “Bucky came out of the smoke and shadows and loomed over my lesser-but-formidable opponent.”

“We have a smoke machine?” Steve asks.

“Nope. He was just that awesome,” I said. “I was pretending to cry, to catch my lesser-but-formidable opponent off-guard. It totally worked; he was such a dummy. And then– and then!” You sit up because you’re at the best part, and Steve wraps an arm around your waist to help you stay steady on the cushions. “So I told my lesser-but-formidable opponent that Tony didn’t give me anything, but if he did it would be for the two Avengers I actually do hang out with–”

“‘Hang out with,’” Steve scoffs and pinches your thigh. You yelp and fall against him to make him stop.

“I’m at the best part!” you say and cover his mouth. He takes your hand and starts kissing it, but he’s paying attention (and it feels nice) so you allow it. “So- so he says, ‘where are they?’ and Bucky– cape flowing, lightning striking, shadows casting over his face–”

“Did I have a rose whip too?” Bucky asks dryly.

“I think you would look fetching in a domino mask, but that’s neither here nor there. Anyway, so- so Bucky says–” you drop your voice almost as low as you can, “‘–Right. Here.’ And POW! WHAM!” You swing, making punching motions at the air, so hard and numerous that you almost fall off the couch. Steve is still holding you and at one point he keeps you from diving face first into the floor. “Thanks,” you pant and take two more big, deep breaths to get back to baseline. “And then I totally forgot I had magical badass powers and let Bucky handle the situation, and he beat up the bad guy, and untied me, and I fell right into his arms because he’s my hero. And then some other boring stuff happened. The end!”

Steve claps and Bucky joins him, and you stand up to take a bow, as is your due. You then hop over and sit across Bucky’s lap. It’s hard for Bucky to mope with someone draped over him, as you have well learned from watching Steve. “You’re amazing–” you kiss him, “–and strong–” you kiss him again, “–and I love you so–” kiss, “–deal–” kiss, “–with–” kiss, “–it,” kiss kiss kiss.

“Fine! Fine,” he grumbles but he can’t hide that smile from you. “Shouldn’t you be harassing Steve? He’s the one who hasn’t been home.”

“I have a solution for that,” Steve says, suddenly next to you, and he lifts you into his arms.

“Hey!” You smack at his hand. It’s one thing when you’re making him catch you, it’s another thing when he initiates. You're supposed to be in charge, dammit. You’ve said so.

“I need to thank my heroes for taking care of the homestead while I was out,” Steve says and nuzzles your neck, dipping down to kiss and nip at your collarbone. You shiver and even Bucky looks entranced when Steve lifts his head and says in a deeper voice, “Are you in, Sergeant?”

Bucky manages a barely intelligible “yes” as he stumbles to his feet and follows you both to the bedroom. Steve doesn’t ask you but, admittedly, he doesn’t have to. You’re easy and you’re pretty okay with it. Also, you feel like after this week you deserve to be doted on a little bit. And you know you will be.

It’s good to be a hero.

However if they try to start dragging you to the gym with them, you’re going to show them some actual secret ass-kicking abilities.