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#I’m actually like walking a little tightrope trying not to think myself back into the pit or like

five-rivers · 1 year

Text

Need More Than Sorrow

AO3

For @datawyrms

Everyone had things they were ashamed of. Or, at least, they had things they should have been ashamed of, which wasn’t quite the same thing, but Danny liked to think he wasn’t quite that oblivious. Most of the time.

Except he’d realized that he maybe had been for a little while there. Just a little.

Or a lot.

A lot, actually.

He ran his fingers over the hem of his sweater (NASA themed, of course), and watched his friends bicker over food. Again.

Thing was, he could let it lie. It had been lying for weeks, now. Tucker hadn’t brought it up, anyway, and neither had Sam. And… Yeah. They didn’t seem to be mad at him for anything.

But that didn’t mean they didn’t care about it, or that it didn’t matter.

So he should probably say something, right? That was what you were supposed to do. Kind of… take responsibility.

Right?

“Danny? Hey, Earth to Danny.”

“Huh? What?”

“You okay, man?” asked Tucker.

“Um,” said Danny. “Yeah. I’m just… I’m sorry.”

“For what?” asked Sam, with a little scoff. Danny wouldn’t ever tell her, but she sounded a lot like her mom when she did that. “Getting mind controlled by an evil clown? You deserve to zone out a bit after all that.”

Danny glanced at Tucker. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Hey, you’re not responsible for anything you did when you were under his control.”

“Mhm, yeah. Just, um. Thanks for coming after me.”

“Anytime,” said Sam.

“Yeah, we’ve got your back.”

"Thanks…"

"Now eat up." She pointed imperiously at his hamburger. "I know that weirdo didn't feed you."

Well. She wasn't wrong.

"Hey, how come his burger gets a pass while you're slandering my Nasty Meatacular."

"Three different animals died for that crime against nature."

"Four! It has mutton now!"

“That’s disgusting. You’re disgusting.”

Danny took a bite of his burger. It didn’t taste like anything.

It would be so easy to just let them keep going. To just… keep going. No more. Don’t rock things. Don’t test things. Don’t change things.

He could do that quite easily. It would be easy. The easier path. What did they say about easier paths again? What did they say about good intentions?

Oh, God.

“Tucker?”

“Huh? Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey, we told you, you don’t need to apologize for anything Freakshow made you do. And if you did, you should apologize to Sam first. She’s the one you pushed off a tightrope.”

“He pushed me onto the tightrope,” corrected Sam. “I fell off all by myself.”

“It’s not about that,” said Danny.

“Then what?” asked Sam, reaching for her soda. “Are you going to confess to throwing up in my lunchbox in gradeschool this time?”

“No,” said Danny. “It’s… I shouldn’t have overshadowed you that time. Made you… do things you didn’t want to. I’m sorry. I didn’t… I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” said Tucker, not looking at Danny.

“Just ‘okay?’” Danny ducked his head, trying to get into Tucker’s line of sight.

“What do you want me to say, Danny? That it wasn’t that bad? Well, it was. It sucked.”

Danny hung his head. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, man.” Tucker laughed, humorlessly. “Heck, you said you were sorry about me losing my date when it happened. I just… Priorities, Danny. It would’ve been great if you were sorry before it happened to you. Or, heck, after Poindexter walked off with your body that one time. So. Yeah. It sucks. It really sucks.”

“I shouldn’t have done it. I never should have done it. It was stupid and cruel and… Selfish.”

“Yep. Sure was.”

“If Danny is apologizing, I probably should, too,” said Sam. Why went unsaid, but it wasn’t as if they hadn’t all been there.

“Is there anything I can do to- to make up for things?”

“Not really. I mean. I overshadowed people, too, don’t forget. The whole Desiree thing.”

“You were kind of being mind controlled during that, too.”

“Yeah.” Tucker picked at his fries. “I’m getting real sick of all this mind control. I mean, you’ve got all this stuff. All this… People controlling where you go, what you do. You should at least be able to think what you want. And what you do. What you actually do, even if you’re being forced. It’s not right. You get me?”

“I guess I just didn’t think about it.”

“Of course you didn’t. I love you, man, but you’re so white.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry about that. Jeez. Just chill, okay? It’s not like I’ve never been stupid about your powers. Let’s just… drop it. And not do it again.”

“That sounds like a deal,” said Sam. “Do we want dessert? I want dessert. I’m going to get some dessert.” She stood up. “God, this is awkward.”

Tucker sipped loudly at his drink. “It is pretty awkward.”

“I thought we were dropping it.”

Tucker threw a french fry at Danny.

#phic phight #phic phight 2023 #danny phantom

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yesimwriting · 3 years

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Would you write a Kaz Brekker request where the reader is a bookworm and a crow and basically Kaz asks the reader to read to him as his way of apologizing after a argument that was his fault?

it a/n i did something kinda similar in a 'promise of rain' blurb,, but this concept is so cute to me:)) love it sm i moved it up my request cue lol

also IM IN COLLEGE NOW!! WHAT?? AND IVE BEEN TO A PARTY! AND IM JOINING A SORORITY AND I DID DRAMA AUDITIONS AND AHH !! SO DIFFERENT! I MISS MY MOM AND SISTER AND DOG AND EVEN MY DAD BUT IM HAPPY HERE!!

also im a little worried this might not portray kaz superrrrr accurately bc it's been awhile so just let me know,, feedback leads to improvement:)) also kinda set this up for a part 2 bc...well youll see

They've always said a lot of things about him, and I've always heard them. But I've never quite believed them. Sure, I get why the dark things that have flourished in the poisoned soil that is Ketterdam consider Kaz Brekker the darkest thing of all. I understand the nickname 'Dirtyhands' for the gloved criminal who has fooled each crime boss at least once. I understand each terrible thing they've said about him.

But I've never agreed with them. I've never even considered agreeing with them. Until today.

The thought that maybe everything people say about him is correct in a simple context struck me worse than the silence after our argument. It made me feel like both a fool and hypocrite. Kaz and I have had our fair share of spats over the relatively short time we've known each other, but never like this. Never so badly he stormed out of the room before I could. I squeeze the book in my lap even harder, desperate to focus on the words on the pages.

You didn't hurt him. He walked away because he decided you weren't worth the cost of his expensive time. I repeat those thoughts in my mind over and over again, letting them bitter me further. It's a lot easier to be mad than hurt. A lot easier to fuel your pain than try to understand your mistakes. Besides, tiredness is already dredging around in my chest and if I don't calm down a little I won't be able to fall asleep.

I had escalated the fight more than I should have. Knowing Kaz is like performing in a tightrope act. One must always be aware of where they're going. Watching what's in front of them without ever thinking too much about what's beneath or behind them. Today though, when I needed my balance most I chose to fall. I chose to dive, and apparently there was no net.

"Oh, you're doing that thing."

I roll my eyes at Jesper's voice as I fight down a yawn. I wipe my face with the back of my palm before turning. The burning behind my eyes never resulted in full tears, but I feel better after doing so. "What thing?"

"That terribly noble thing where you find it in yourself to take full blame for every single conflict you and boss man fall into." The slight humor in his voice is enough for me to roll my eyes again. "Between you and me, I'm sure the reason he's so angry now is because you didn't do that for once."

I press my lips together as my chin angles itself upwards slightly. "I never do that." He raises an eyebrow. The slight sympathy that colors the look is more offensive than his accusation. "If I pick and choose my battles, it's for good reason."

"Clearly."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugs once before further entering my room. I say nothing when he sits at the foot of my bed. "Oh, you know," Jesper stretches back casually, resting his back against the wall and extending his legs, "You and Kaz--Kaz and you."

Has he been drinking? Perhaps he's not here because of my unusual absence from downstairs after my fight with Kaz but because he's already too tipsy to think right. "What?"

At my confused look he grins, flashing all of his teeth with an arrogance that outshines the whiteness of them. He taps the still open book in my lap. "Let me put it in terms you'll understand." Jesper sits up a little further, amusement clear in his features. "You two make a shameful Elizabeth and Darcy--"

"Oh, shut up," I groan, glaring at him, "This isn't Pride and Prejudice. And Kaz and I," Jesper's smugness returns when I can't quite think of what I want to say, "We're barely friends--we're barely anything, let alone what you're implying."

Jesper pulls his legs up and shoves me gently. "Dearest, y/n," he ignores my glare, "You should know better than anyone that 'barely friends, barely anything' with Kaz is more than it is with anyone else?"

"That doesn't mea--"

"You two say goodnight to each other." Once. Kaz and I said good night to each other in front of Jesper once. How dare he assume it happens regularly? He's right, but that doesn't mean I'm okay with it. "You play cards with him. Not for money, not for skill--"

"It's for practice." The look Jesper gives me is enough to tell me that my defense didn't land.

Damn him for ever finding Kaz and I on one of those strange nights. One of those nights in which he lurks at the stairwell...the one that divides my room and his attic. One of those nights in which it feels like he's a phantom and I'm the only one that can really see him. A night in which we both silently find each other.

I couldn't quite believe it the first time it happened. I'm not exactly a Crow--I don't feel enough a connection to the Dregs to join them without some kind of guarantee--but I was needed for some obscure job. but I was needed for some obscure job. The Crows needed an insider who could blend into high society, and I needed a place to stay away from my father.

It worked. I worked. And with each passing day I found myself enjoying the Crows more and more. That's why I stayed. That's why I started checking the stairwell practically every night, a set of playing cards in my hand.

The first time had been awkward. I couldn't sleep and my room felt too quiet, but the rambunctious club felt too loud and a little unsafe considering the hour. So I settled for the only space in between. When Kaz found me sitting on the steps and playing a solitary card game I had been so stunned by embarrassment I just offered to deal him in. I had been more shocked when he silently accepted my offer.

"Practice?" Jesper repeats. "You were laughing, I heard you."

"That was one time--how do you know we didn't just happen to play cards together the one time you saw it?"

"Because you laughed about a play you considered 'predictable'."

Sighing, I sit up a little straighter. "I'm not having this conversation. Occasionally saying 'goodnight' to someone who lives in the same space I live in and sometimes playing cards with said person because we both happen to be up at a certain time doesn't mean anything."

"And the way he looked at the contact that was flirting with you?"

Oh...this conversation again. "For the last time, the contact wasn't flirting with me. We had to dance to blend in and when he leaned towards me to whisper in my ear...it was to tell me the intel Kaz just had to have."

"And when he tucked that strand of hair behind your ear?"

"He just wanted to sell our cove--"

"Y/n, he kissed your cheek and I'm fairly certain he would have kissed you if Kaz and I hadn't made it to the corridor at that second."

Why is everyone so obsessed with what would have never happened? The contact had been attractive, tall with fair eyes and hair. But it's not like I feel anything for him, nor would I have been so foolish during a job. A fact that Kaz refuses to believe. I'm tired of this argument...I'm just tired. This job required me to start getting ready early in the morning and lasted long into the night.

"I wouldn't have kissed him and even if I had, the fact that Kaz is so mad about feels...sexist." A stupid argument, considering that Kaz couldn't care less if the person he's working with is female, male, or anything in between because the only thing he cares about is profit. "It's a stupid thing to be mad about, but you hit on anything with a pulse at any time and--"

"I resent that--"

"For the first two weeks I was here I thought you might've been a prostitute."

I can feel him holding in a laugh. "Did you at least think I was a good prostitute?" When I glare again, he finally actually laughs. "Not the point--got it."

"Then what is the point? You're bored and obsessed with gossip so now you're shaking me for information you don't need."

"The point is you're oblivious." Rude...I move my leg in a weak attempt to push him off my bed. Jesper catches my ankle easily, ignoring my attempt at a fight. "You thought the contact was only doing his job and you don't know the real reason that Kaz blew up at you for the first time the way he blows up at everyone."

"Okay, well since you know everything, tell me why he's mad."

He lets out a sigh like he can't believe I even needed to ask that. "It's not the best look that the first time you let him pick a fight with you happens to be about some guy."

...Maybe he is drunk? "Don't be so cryptic. I don't like you enough to put up with that."

Jesper half-sighs again before pushing himself off my bed. "I'm going to pretend I think you're smart enough to piece things together from that."

"Asshole," I mumble instinctually as he walks towards my door. "Are you not telling me because I tried to push you off the bed?"

He turns when he reaches my door in order to lean against my door frame. "It's not not because of that." I should throw my book at his head. "In all seriousness, think about it. If you don't you'll either kill each other or kill me."

Ugh...he's so confusing. This time, I let him go. He leaves he door open, which is beyond annoying. I stand up to close it, promising myself I will focus on my book the second it's in my hands again. As I walk back towards my bed, my eyes land on the deck of cards on my nightstand.

Does it send a signal I don't want to send if I don't go the stairwell tonight? Do I want to send a signal? I don't know...actually, the only thing I know is that I don't want to think about this a second longer. I don't ease as I read, but my eyelids become heavier with each word they cross. I feel the weight of them as my focus slips, farther and farther away until I can no longer focus. When my eyes fall shut I can't bring myself to think or force them open.

I notice my surprised before I register that I've just woken up. Falling asleep feels so far and yet the crick in my neck confirms the obvious. Rubbing the eyes with the back of my hand, I push my book from my lap and sit up. The only indication of how much time has passed is how much my bedside candle has melted.

How long have I been asleep? How did I manage to fall asleep? I thought I was too mad at Kaz to manage anything but pouting in my room. I hadn't even decided if I wanted to talk to him.

I stand even though I haven't decided anything. I should at least change if I want to go to bed. But is leaving this alone for even longer a bad idea? I think Jesper thought so...though my conversation with him is far from clear. It's not the best look that the first time you let him pick a fight with you happens to be about some guy. I'm going to pretend I think you're smart enough to piece things together from that. What does he want me to do with that?

Maybe he was partially intoxicated and felt the need to play the role of a good friend. Or maybe this is his idea of a joke.

Whatever--regardless of Jesper, I have a choice to make. A tiny part of me hopes it's insignificant, but I know Kaz enough to know that nothing is insignificant to him. He holds onto things the way he holds onto his kruge. Perhaps I'll seek out Inej, she seems to be the best at rationalizing. Though she might be asleep by now, or on a job or...I don't even know.

How late is it? Is it late enough to be one of the few hours Kaz claims to reserve for sleep? Maybe my bad luck is still around and he's already in bed for once. Does that mean his anger will extend to tomorrow?

I shouldn't care. It's not like I'm in the wrong. Did I escalate things? Maybe a little...but I won't apologize for defending myself. Even though that makes everything a little easier. I feel stuck, like in some kind of place of half sleep. A single knock at my door is enough to make me want to jump. I rub my eyes a little more firmly in hopes of waking up more before someone sees me.

I approach the door without worry. Maybe it's not as late as I assumed. Or maybe it's really early? I open the door while still fighting against my slight disorientation. I'm so focused on acting normal, I almost don’t register the person standing at my door.

I don’t know who I expected, or what--maybe Jesper, much more tipsy than he was before, slumped against the doorframe, only knocking because he’s too tired to push the door open. Maybe even Inej, on her way here to deliver some kind of job or notice of dismissal. But it’s nothing I could expect. It’s...Kaz.

The Dirtyhands stands at my door, expression as hard as ever yet something behind his eyes that burns the sleep away from me. “Uh--hi.” I bite my tongue to avoid cringing at that very awkward beginning. “Are you here to kick me out yourself?” The only response I get is the slightest shift of his gaze off of my face. “No? Well then I think I’m going to bed. It’s late.”

My tone and words are clear. Get out of my doorway, I’m in no mood to go back to arguing. When he still doesn’t say anything, I’m emboldened by my nerves. I push the door between us without breaking eye contact.

Before the wood can meet the doorframe, he moves his cane, wedging it between us. “Y/n.” I don’t understand the way he says my name, but I’m certain he’s never said it like that. “I...” When he’s not prompted by the uncomfortableness of silence, I raise an eyebrow, my grip on the door tightening. “What I said shouldn’t have been said.” Wait--is he admitting fault? I’m so thrown I almost melt entirely. “Not to you.”

The addition leaves him so lowly a part of me wonders if I’ve imagined it. I’m so thrown by it I don’t even think to reply until a long second has passed. “You seemed to believe the opposite a few hours ago.”

His lips press together for a moment. “You didn’t ask me to play cards tonight.” He took that as intentional? At least that got me some kind of apology? I keep my mouth shut, greed making me want more information. I guess he must sense my silent tugging because he head inclines slightly. “Don’t push.”

I fight down a grin. “Push what?” His only response to stiffen further. “I’m going to tell you something as a peace offering.” That seems to intrigue him in some way. I can’t tell if it’s a good kind of interested, but I note the slight raise of his eyebrows and his intentional silence. “I didn’t chose not to ask you to play cards.” He gives me no indication of anything, which is fair...considering my vagueness. “I was mad, obviously, and in the middle of deciding on a course of action...and then I fell asleep.”

A long pause of silence. “You fell asleep?”

I’m not sure if his incredulous tone should offend me or not. If I wanted to lie, I’d like to think he knows me well enough to know that I’d have thought of a better excuse than that. Or at least a less embarrassing one. “Yes, it’s not that difficult to believe. Today had been long and all I wanted to do was read, but then Jesper came in to say the oddest things and then leave me to...”

Oh--oh. I guess there’s a reason people say to ‘sleep on’ something. Because now, actively remembering Jesper’s words for the first time since I fell asleep...I understand what Jesper was implying in the oddest way possible. He meant that Kaz and I...that perhaps there is a Kaz and I in a context that’s more than just grammatical. Wow. I really had to realize this with Kaz right in front of me.

My face feels warmer than it did before, an irrational bout of anxiety forcing me to consider that me might be able to read impossible, embarrassing thoughts from my expression alone.

“What did Jesper say?” I’m too lost in my own spiral of confusion and panic and some feeling I can’t recognize to register how Kaz asks his question. There’s an edge to it, an odd one, but that could easily just be Kaz.

This is most definitely the last conversation we need to be having. I’m still mad at him for his earlier dramatics. So I just shake my head, feigning an exhaustion I could lose myself in. “Nothing and everything all at once.” I resist the urge to rub my eyes again. “I’m pretty sure he was drinking, and I wasn’t really listening. I was just trying to read.”

Kaz’s expression hardens briefly as he takes in my words, and then he exhales, nodding once with the breath. “What were you reading?”

My lips part instinctually, ready to spew off details about the latest novel that’s captured my attention. But before I can let myself take off, the reality of the situation strikes me directly in the chest. This is not Nina, or Inej, or even Jesper after what he considers a ‘good night’. This is Kaz Brekker, the man believed to not have a soul. I’ve spoken to him before about casual things, though most of the nights in which we end up playing cards or just sitting near each other are spent in silence. But he’s never prompted me before. Not in the one topic he knows is guaranteed to turn me into an overenthusiastic, gushing fountain of poor summaries and character analysis.

I guess this is his peace offering. This shouldn’t warm the way it does. He was still unbelievably dramatic and treated me like I’m some kind of unreliable fool. “It’s late, and you know how I can be. I’d hate to keep you for nothing more than a poor summary and honestly, an embarrassing rant about plot or characters, because there’s just nothing as frustrating as when two people so clearly care about each other and both are too stubborn and oblivious to acknowledge it.”

Kaz’s eyebrows draw together just enough for me to be able to make out a shift of expression in the poor light. Perhaps his lingering irritation is preparing to rear its ugly head. The corner of his mouth seems to threaten to tilt upwards as Kaz angles his head to the side slightly. “I can’t imagine that position.”

No kidding. I bite my tongue to keep the sarcastic comment and awkward laugh that would sure follow it away. “Who can? That’s like half the point of reading.”

How can interaction feel so over and just at its beginning all at once? I press my lips together to avoid filling the silence with things I’d no doubt instantly regret. It’s easy to be mad at Kaz in the moment. Too easy. But to stay mad at him when his temper has passed and he returns with some kind of begrudging and admittedly awkward and uncertain truce is another task entirely.

“I’ve never understood your attachment to written words.”

“It’s not about understanding, it’s about everything else.”

“And you say I’m cryptic.” Is he...kinda almost joking? I straighten my spine, too tired to fight and too wounded to forgive. “There’s understanding in everything, nothing can survive on sentiment alone.”

“If you read the way I did, you’d understand.”

His lips press together as his expression remains unwavering in its hardness. “Read to me.”

...Interacting with Kaz in any way often leaves me feeling like I’m wandering through unknown territory. But this, this is undeniably different. So different I can’t even think of a way to react. I watch his expression as cautiously as possible. He’s purely reserved, no distinction from the look he wears during business propositions. Except there’s a tightness I can’t quite understand.

Maybe it’s because I don’t want to fight anymore. Maybe it’s because exhaustion is leaving me partially delirious. Or maybe it’s the weird feeling in my chest that I can’t quite place. That I don’t want to place. “Okay.” I shift carefully. “If for no other reason then to prove you wrong.”

Never did I think I’d end up in the position of sitting in my bed, book in hand, with Kaz Brekker sitting next to me. But here we are. I’m so tired, I almost let out a nervous laugh when he first walked in. So brooding and tall, gripping the head of his head cane as he sits at the foot of my bed, on my pastel quilt.

I’m glad for the excuse to keep my gaze away from him and on the words in front of me. I read out loud, feeling more and more comfortable with each page I finish. But as my inhibitions slip away, so dos my hold on consciousness. My eyelids seem to grow heavier with each word that I read.

“You’re falling asleep.”

I straighten my spine on instinct. “Am not.” I’m not sure why I feel the need to deny something so simple.

“You’re impossible.”

From him, that statement is laugh worthy. “I’m impossible? Do you not remember earlier today?”

From the way his jaw locks, I realize that he’s in no mood to be light about this topic. I don’t understand why. It’s not like I’m the one that wronged him. “I remember your lack of focus.”

Keeping my hands at my side to avoid rubbing my eyes, I frown. “If you want to have this argument again, fine. Jesper is more ‘distracted’ than me half the time and you’re much more lenient on him. It’s not like I was flirting with someone or gambling or doing anything but having a two second conversation. One that I needed to have to get information that you wanted.”

The last time we fought, I had more energy to restrain myself. This could be atomic. I hold my breath, waiting for Kaz’s retaliation. He exhales, eyes not meeting mine. “Arguing with you when you’re present is exhausting enough. It’s not worth it when you’re half asleep.”

This angers me further. I hate that he’s right. “I’m not half asleep.” He leaves it at that. I glare even harder at him, slumping further into my bed. “But for the sake of argument, I’ll drop it. Something you’re incapable of doing.”

At that, his eyes meet mine. I try to hold his gaze, but the harder I think about not seeming tired the more exhaustion slips in. A yawn escapes me before he looks away. Great. “I know when to lie in the grass in wait.”

Rolling my eyes, I shift back slightly. He’s incapable of being less dramatic than this. Still, I can’t imagine the effort it’s taking on his part to not start an argument. Maybe this is why Jesper spent so long implying that there may be a Kaz and I in any capacity beyond a vague kind of friendship. “I’ll admit you’re tactful.”

“Resourceful people recognize that trait in other people.”

Blinking twice, I lower my book slightly. Am I truly exhausted, or did he just compliment me in a way? “Careful, I may start to think you find me tolerable.”

“Let’s not exaggerate.” Okay, now I know I’m exhausted because I think he might have just attempted a joke. Rolling my eyes, I decide not to acknowledge this lightness in fear that I’ll scare it away. “Y/n?”

I press my lips together, worried about the destruction of our peace. “Yes?”

“What did Jesper say to you? Earlier?” I pause, slightly unsure why we’re moving backwards.

We’re in a decent place now, and I’d hate to ruin it. I’m too half asleep to lie eloquently. And it’s not like he’s an easily convinced man. “Oh, he said it so cryptically it took me longer than it should have to understand. And it didn’t help that it was something so...well, you might find it funny. As funny as you find anything, anyways.” Wow...I’ve spent such a long time talking. Rubbing the back of my eyes, I avoid his gaze. Exhaustion and awkwardness mix in my stomach oddly. “It seemed like he was trying to imply that you and I...me and you...” Why is this a difficult thing to say? It’s not like I was implying it and Jesper’s known for his oddness. “I think Jesper was implying that there was a you and I, or at least that there could be.” I’m too lost in a haze of almost sleep to watch his reaction. I let my head rest against my headboard even further. “Isn’t that odd?”

He’s quiet for a long second, and then he finally speaks again. “Odd, even for Jesper.” The response doesn’t satiate me...what’s that about? I exhale, deciding that feeling is tomorrow’s problem. When I blink, I decide to let my eyes stay closed. Just for a moment. The sound of something shifting is what makes my eyes squint open. Kaz is standing, his expression unreadable as he straightens. “Goodnight, y/n.”

At that, I sit up slightly, ignoring the exhaustion behind my eyes. “I haven’t finished the chapter.”

“You’ve convinced me of enough.” A concession? How exhausted do I seem? My lips press together as I think of my next argument. Before I can get it out, Kaz leans forward. He grabs the quilt at the end of my bed and tosses it onto my legs casually. “Goodnight, y/n.” The meaning of his repetition is clear. His word is final.

I find enough energy to manage a glare, but I pull the quilt over my legs anyways. “Goodnight, Kaz.”

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x you #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone netflix #shadow and bone imagines #six of crows #six of crows x reader #six of crows imagine #six of crows show #shadow and bone show #six of crows netflix

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shepherds-of-haven · 3 years

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I hope you’re having a great day Lena! I was just wondering if we could have any fluff facts about the shepherds as a whole! Like fun tidbits of how they interact with each other, what some of them do if they have the same day off, does anyone host weekly game nights?? I hope that makes sense! Reading the recent short story on Patreon I love seeing how the characters interact with one another and now I need moreeeeeee🙏

Ooh, great question! I’m feeling curiously tapped dry at the moment, so I’ll probably have to reblog this as more ideas come to me; I’m so happy you’re enjoying the short story, btw!! 💖

Some group dynamic headcanons:

Many of them steal clothes from each other. Briony wears a cute sweater of Shery's (she asked), Ayla gets cold so she just takes one of Red's jackets from a chair (she didn't ask), Chase gives Tallys his scarf one day and Riel corders Trouble a pair of gloves from a fashion line he favors because his old ones are holey and they get into an argument about it... This leads to some recruits mistakenly thinking that the captains are all involved in some sort of mass relationship because they keep walking out of each other's rooms wearing each other's clothes. (The recruits believe a lot of really dumb stuff, if you couldn't tell. They LOVE gossip. It's like a competitive sport in the compound)

There is a weekly card game night, initiated and organized first by Chase, but it grows bigger over time, with snacks, cakes, drinks, and new games being procured! I'd actually say it's more like every ten-fourteen days or so than on any set weekday, and is typically proposed by anyone who senses that they or others need to blow off some steam. They all tend to meet in a private common room and either just chill and play some card games and casually drink and listen to music, or they get LOUD and raucous and play more risque non-card games (like Question or Command/Truth or Dare). The loud nights are more like once a month or bi-monthly, though! They take place in the captains' lounge so dumb recruits don't get to join! It's rare that they're in there all doing the same thing, though: maybe half will be at the table playing card games while others will be broken up into smaller groups, say arm-wrestling in the corner or playing chess at the smaller table or reading, but they're all there! Game nights are almost never held unless everyone is there, which is extraordinarily difficult to schedule, but they all make an effort to make it happen--even those who first had to be dragged into it, like Blade or Riel!

Speaking of chess games, Red and Riel have a standing game where they complete at least four more moves every night that they're around and able to meet up after dinner. Planning their next move helps them both break up the monotony of the day, and it's something they enjoy immensely. However, whenever he gets called away on a mission, Red gets sick with worry that Riel's been cooking up all sorts of schemes while he's been gone, so sometimes on the road he has, like, a schematic that he doodles on trying to anticipate Riel's next move, and it's very nerdy and ramps up in joking Anxiety. Riel, graciously, goes easier on him on nights after he comes back from long trips, though he denies it

Similarly, Blade and Trouble have a standing training session once a week where they just beat the crap out of each other. This is generally where they do the majority of their talking

Briony and Ayla first had an agreement that they would get the other one up if they overslept (Briony tends to be the one who oversleeps while Ayla is better about being up at dawn, but Ayla is really grouchy if she went to bed late and Briony is the only one who can handle her), which morphed into doing runs and sparring together at dawn and having breakfast frequently!

The girls have a standing spa night once a month where they all get together in a room (usually Shery’s) and basically do sleepover stuff and relax and chat and catch up for a few hours. This also sometimes involves showing each other new outfits that they bought that month! Sometimes there are even group baths in the big common bath, but these are rarer because Shery is shy and Tallys doesn’t like sitting in hot water getting pruny

Chase and Trouble drag Red and Halek to go drinking with them around once a month; sometimes Blade is persuaded to go if Trouble can get the drop on him and punch him hard enough to wind him. It’s complicated

Riel and Shery, of course, have tea together once a week! You’re not allowed if you can’t bring a chill vibe (Riel’s rules). Tallys, Lavinet, Halek, and Red are occasional visitors; Briony is allowed on a good day. Blade would be allowed but he has 0 interest

Similarly, Lavinet hosts a weekly brunch, either in a courtyard or at some restaurant in town! Typically it’s a girl thing and Ayla, Briony, and Shery are the most consistent attendees, but Chase has snuck his way in there often, and Riel, Halek, or Red pop up occasionally!

Tallys and Halek cook together! It’s not all that often and doesn’t seem to have any set way of materializing--it just happens somehow--but they both very much enjoy it! Sometimes they cook dinner for the whole group and have a little dinner party that they both secretly get excited for! Sometimes Shery bakes the dessert!

Riel noticed that Tallys has a little garden that she spends time weeding, so he sends gardening tools or special seeds when he thinks she needs them and she leaves baskets of vegetables or vases of flowers in his office. All of this is done without exchanging a word

Chase sporadically teaches Briony acrobatics and things like tightrope walking, just randomly whenever they’re both idle. She teaches him how to gut people with bare fists and also sometimes they paint!

Caine caught Red grazing in the pantry late one night and now it’s like a Thing where they pass each other in the kitchen and Red sort of just looks the other way re: Caine’s bedtime and what on earth he’s doing up so late and Caine doesn’t tell anybody that Red is just absent-mindedly eating a loaf of bread at 2 AM because he was too busy working to remember to eat dinner. It’ll be like, “there’s some turkey leftover from dinner in the cold box” “oh hey, Caine. thanks. ...so, what’s the news from the midnight watch tonight?” “i’m going to go hunt ghosts on the seventh floor with my friends!” “...okay! have fun!”

Lavinet has a monthly shopping trip where she updates her wardrobe, and it is very common for others to accompany her around the city and just shop while they drop! Common partners are Shery, Briony, Riel, Chase, and once memorably Blade, who didn’t know what he was in for!

Trouble and Ayla are wildly competitive and keep arm-wrestling each other for money; this becomes a bi-weekly sporting event that is eagerly attended and bet upon by third parties

There was ONE group karaoke night. ONE. Most of them got so blackout drunk that they swore to never do it again. Even now, several of them go green whenever they hear a popular bar song (“Don’t Piss Where You Plant Your Flowers”) being sung, especially badly

The game of "telephone" gets really bad in their group. It's like, Shery will say to Briony that she's worried because she thought Riel looked a bit peaky and feverish. Briony will say in passing to Trouble that Riel is getting sick and Shery is worried. Trouble will say to Tallys that Shery is worried sick because Riel is bedridden. Tallys will be mixing herbs and Chase will ask what for and Tallys will reply that Riel is sick, but because she's mixing herbs, Chase will surmise that the sickness must be quite advanced, and will later say, "Damn, have you seen Riel? Seems like he's really sick." Red will interpret this as "I have seen Riel for myself and have determined that he's extremely ill." At least four people will bust into Riel's room, expecting him to be on the verge of death, despite the fact that they saw Riel that morning. Riel will be fine and very annoyed at the intrusion.

They rarely go out as a group to bars and establishments outside of the compound (too chaotic as well as risky, for one thing, and also, recruits don't need to see their superiors like hanging out of bushes and dancing on tabletops drunk out of their minds, and also, "Mages can't drink" (lol)), but when they do deem it a worthy occasion (Trouble's birthday, say), the girls are very punctual when getting ready, and the boys are almost always extremely late due to various shenanigans (Chase forgot that he put a booby trap on Red’s door, covering Red with flour, or a cat somehow slips into Trouble’s room and steals, like, a detonator or an important key, and they have to go chasing it across the city). This has led to the girls coming late on purpose in order to even out their arrival, but mysteriously, this has only led to even later start times, meaning they often don’t get started until like 10 or 11 PM when the most well-intentioned souls meant to be in bed by midnight... that never happens, either!

One such night once led to them ending up on a ridge in the Sun’s Embrace, like a mile outside of the city, in order to watch the sun rise together, because hiking in the dark while blasted out of their minds sounded like a really good idea. They all made it, and the dawn was spectacular, but the moment was ruined when Tallys said softly, “It’s the beginning of a beautiful new day--” punctuated by Trouble abruptly throwing up in a bush and Riel just flat-out passing out

#Shepherds of Haven #group #group dynamic #all characters #found family #drinking #cw: alcohol #drunk #shenanigans #party #parties #long #long post

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punemy-spotted · 3 years

Text

The Price You Pay Chapter 4: Breach

Pairing: Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader, Senator!Andy Barber x Reader

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con elements, Dub-Con, Dark!Fic, Abuse of Legal System, Murder, Character Death (minor, possibly major), Love Triangle, Political AU, Mafia AU, Workplace Sexual Harassment, Abuse Mentions, Possessive/Obsessive Characters, Other Chapter-Specific Warnings May Apply, Possible Dead Dove: Would Not Eat

Chapter Warnings: Angst; Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse; Betrayal; Lies; F!Reader’s Age Kind of Finalized; Specific Reference to Age; Blackmail; Crying; Slight Panic Attack; Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Chapter Summary: Even the truth can’t set you free.

Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3

Notes: And we’re back to pain. My outline got derailed for this chapter so bear with me, sometimes revelations need to be hammered in. No smut here for now but I also needed to get this arc finished so I can start on the next.

Also I know I keep jumping forward — I swear I will write about their relationship growing.

Thank you all for reading and commenting! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated, even if you’re yelling at me.

Not beta-read, these sins belong to me and me alone.

All of my work is 18+ Only, Minors DO NOT INTERACT. I do not consent to my work being posted anywhere besides Tumblr or Ao3 and I post my work there myself. Do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content.

The air is…

Shifted.

Shifted enough that the whole office notices, avoids yours, avoids the glare Steve Rogers fires at them the moment they approach the door, avoids your eye. Shifted enough that you miss the before, the pressure of his presence demanding your attention, the smugness in his endless eyes you denied looking at.

Shifted.

Counsel.

What?

We need to talk.

Is that not what you’ve been avoiding doing all morning, Captain?

You swear you can hear his molar crack in the dead silence, but your eyes never flit upwards from the contract you’re poring through, red pen in hand.

Focus.

It’s a job, this life, and this is a part of it, the presence of him, the pressure of him. It’s a job, and he calls on you to do your duty and you do but no one has ever asked you to be kind and no one has ever asked you to smile as you bear it so you don’t.

It’s a job, this life, and this is a part of it.

You. Are a part of it.

Counsel.

It’s a bark, an order, an annoyance and you shouldn’t let his stubborn fury be the thing that derails you. This is your domain. Your palace of glass and steel, remember? New York buzzes behind you and you surge forward on the tightrope of his affections, teetering dangerously close to his temper and always, always daring him to pull you down.

Try it again.

Fine, with a sigh and a setting down of your papers, You’re closer to the door.

And in your defense, he is, seated on your couch as stiff as a board, scrolling through his phone on occasion and — previously, at least — deftly ignoring your inquiries about the status of his office and why he needs to spend his morning in yours.

He fixes you with a look you do not name and proceeds to stand anyways. The door clicks shut and stays that way — both of you have learned.

Do you still talk to him?

Excuse me?

The Senator. Are. You. Still. In. Contact.

He spreads out every word like an accusation and every word turns you a little colder. You’ve been avoiding this. Avoiding him, distracted by work, the both of you but now you are back in each other’s orbits and this…

This cannot be avoided.

I haven’t spoken to him beyond to tell him I returned home safe that night.

Not. For lack of wanting.

If he’s hurt you, just say the words.

There’s nothing you can say.

It’s been a week. Almost two.

He’s been kind, stayed away, kept his distance but that… that will not last. Only as long as whatever conference has his office busy and then you know what comes next and then you know what comes after.

The bruising may have faded but the memories remain, after all.

They always do.

Steve Rogers is not Andy Barber, is not warm-eyed concern or a soft-voiced invitation, is not trying to save you from the horrors you cannot name, is not to be trusted but Andy Barber is also not Steve Rogers, is not exactly the man you expect, is not the answer to your dilemma, is not the devil you know and you…

Are still testing your wings.

Get up.

Get up and walk away from the prison of your desk, see how far you can get before you shackle yourself to your own ambition. Get. Up.

Blue eyes watch you like he’s calculating the next angle of his attack and technically you know that’s exactly the case but let’s pretend a moment he doesn’t have his claws out and you aren’t trapped in a cage for him to batter.

Delude yourself into the power you think you have, and keep him there, across the room where he cannot show you how effortlessly he strips you of it and how deeply you enjoy it.

Don’t.

You may be in bed with the mob but you are not asleep to his crimes and this is just an interim, a plan, a moment.

You stood me up, Counsel. After we made our deal.

It was a week ago and you ever-so-kindly taught me my lesson — don’t wince as you speak, don’t let him know you remember, don’t let him think you actually learned from his hand, hard against your body.

He hasn’t since, after all.

He says your name.

He says your name and your blood runs cold and you freeze by the coffee machine you keep in your office and you turn. Senator Barber is a friend.

A dangerous friend. I won’t even ask if you know his stance on —

On the Syndicate? Oh I know. I know who he shakes hands with.

Then you know why I’m asking.

Are you loyal?

Are you?

Is it loyalty that keeps you here?

Don’t let your hands shake when you look at him. Don’t let him see the slide of your eyes, the glance outside, the wondering how long before your window would be a portal and that tightrope would snap.

You are not a fool.

This. Is not loyalty.

I keep to my ethical duties, Captain.

You’re sleeping with your boss.

Oh that one makes you laugh, sharp and cruel and you do look at him then, fix your eyes onto him and raise an eyebrow and watch. All that power, all that smugness, wrapped up in one body and how does he contain it, do you know?

I believe the actual term is serving at your pleasure.

It’s back to the game, the dance, the ruse, the steps you take around each other, the blades he digs into your chest the reminders he gives you you are a whore you are a whore you are a whore and you lift your chin up, dare him to look at the bruises his lips leave on your skin and ask him in the silence and what will you do about it.

You could hate him. You do, technically. You hate that you could love him in the early hours of the morning, when his eyes seek you out and soften at the reminder you’re still here. You hate that his invasive presence in your office is a shield as much as it is a virus, a comfort in the silence and you hate most of all that the way he looks at you with that open desire women might normally have just dreamed was possible makes you want to return it.

You hate that he is dangerous. That he has bound you to him like this, chained you to the idea of his warmth and that there is a sick sort of safety in the binding.

You hate that he looks at you now with something like hope, with something like obsession, with something like vulnerability and you hate that it strips you of that cold armor as effortlessly as his hands strip you of your resistance.

And he could hate you too, in the whispers he leaves on your shoulders when he thinks you’re asleep. He could hate that you are soft, that you are sweet on his tongue that you…

Are his.

Could hate that he has thought of nothing else but the very theory of your betrayal and you know none of these things but his eyes are not so inscrutable as he thinks and so—

He twists the knife.

I talked to your Judge, by the way.

You did what?

You heard me. Interesting conversation.

Excuse me?

You really sold yourself to me for a lover’s spat, Counsel? I thought you were better than that — woman of the law and all.

A lover’s spat? That’s what he told you?

Just what would you call it, if not that?

He’s daring you, back to somewhere between smug and angry, as if disappointed you made him waste his time and all you can do is feel your heart sinking, feel yourself back in that place again, the decade-long sting of control over your body, the painful reminder of the girl you once were.

Where is he?

Did you think I’d clean up your dirty laundry for you? I’m not a breakup counselor, and you nee—

You left him alive!? The panic in your voice is so palpable it stops him in his tracks all over again, suspicious and surprised and you step back to reach for something — steady yourself steady yourself steady yourself you are not safe you are not safe you are not safe.

I’m not killing your ex-boyfriend without a good reas—

I was nineteen!

The world tilts, shifts, your knees are buckling, that’s tears in your eyes and you.

Are that girl again.

Too small, too scared, too naive to know better, too easy to mold and break and manipulate and you promised you’d never be her again, you promised you’d get her justice and you promised it wouldn’t be like this over and over again, promised he wouldn’t sink his fangs into you a third time.

What? He sounds smaller. Or is it faraway? You are too busy trying to stand, trying to still the shaking of your hands, the cold chill in your veins, too busy feeling your knees surrendering, too busy sliding to the floor and staring blankly into your memory.

Counsel. What. Did. You. Say. He repeats himself, and then he’s crouching before you, holding your chin in his hand and when did you start having tears on your cheeks for him to wipe away?

I was nineteen, you repeat, blank and broken, not seeing his brow furrow, not seeing the regret flash over his expression, I didn’t want it. I never wanted it.

What are you saying, sweetness? How dare he sound so soft? How dare he sound like he actually cares, when he’s the reason you’re here, on this floor, barely resisting your breakdown yet again?

You know better.

I was nineteen, a third time, I needed a job, something to give me experience, and he — he used me. That was my experience.

He’s starting to understand, but it doesn’t matter to you, not when you’re staring too far into the past, into a sneering face and cruel hands.

(I can ruin you or I can help you, Intern, so you make your choice. You need me.)

It never stops. Not after the first time — but you know that.

But you know that. That’s your knife, the one you twist into his chest and the realization sinks in heavy as an anchor, the thing he’s done.

The thing he’s done to you.

So why wait until now?

I would have waited forever.

You hid the letter. Hid it well enough even he wouldn’t have found it rifling through your things. Hid the threat in those typewritten words and the casual signature swept across the stationary, unaffected.

Men like him never face consequences. Only you, only the women they make use of, the ones they turn into commodities for their enjoyment. Who would care if you’d made it public, if you showed the world the kind of man he was — he was appointed for life, he was friends with the Governor, he was powerful and you were never going to be strong enough.

(You wouldn’t want anyone in the District Attorney’s office knowing just the sorts of things you’re willing to do to get your way. I can still help you be an exceptional lawyer, Intern.)

What are you? Ambition and drive and skill but what does it all mean when it can be reduced to plaything and pet project and whore.

I helped him get appointed. He helped me get into law school. Introduced me to… To Andy Barber, who calls you Sunshine and watches out for you and comes to New York despite having no power in the state just to see you again because he worries, because he cares.

You pay.

And sometimes that payment bounces back.

You pay and you pay and you pay and you struggle but what is the culmination of your strife is it the sight of you finally broken on the floor, is it the moment he’s been waiting for, dragged off your pedestal why couldn’t he have left well enough alone didn’t he know the horse was for your protection and not his pride?

No.

They never do.

They never do, do they, always so wrapped up in themselves and even now he kneels in front of you and wipes your tears but he has no words to say to atone for what he’s done and you know he can never.

I need you to leave.

The words come out without your control.

You know what you are. You are fury made flesh and you will not be manipulated again, not by the pressure of his hands on your face, not by the way he almost hugs you, he lied he lied he lied he lied.

Sweetness…

No. You don’t get to call me that. Not anymore.

You could have tolerated it. You could have accepted it you could have let yourself become the prize he took, owned his defeat by defeating you, you might even have enjoyed it but no.

No.

I held up my end of the bargain.

#steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #andy barber x reader #mob!au #political!au #dark!fic #steve rogers smut #andy barber smut #dark!steve rogers #angst #series #mob!steve rogers x reader #i really am gonna die here

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ray-ray-writings · 3 years

Text

Tightrope-Dream

This is a self indulgent Dream x gn!reader in the dreamsmp that I was going to post a while ago but got to insecure about it to post. But now that I haven’t posted in a few days and I don’t know when I’ll get to write again, I decided to say f*** it and post it. So I hope you enjoy hahaha.

Based off of this song. Song lyrics are in bold.

Masterlist here

Y/N and Dream have been together for what feels like forever. But when Dream says that he cares about nothing anymore, Y/N takes a moment to evaluate the tightrope walk they call their relationship.

Y/N’s POV

“I don’t give a fuck, okay?” I heard Dream spit from behind an obsidian wall. “I do not give a fuck about Spirit. I don’t give a fuck about anything actually! All I care about is your discs. I care MORE about your discs than you do. That’s the only thing I care about on the server...” His words hit me like a brick. Dream didn’t care about anything. That means he doesn’t care about me… That can’t be true, right? We’ve been together since the beginning… Before the beginning! I was by his side when we made this server. I fought beside him in every single war, no matter how in the wrong I thought he was… When I would tell him what I thought he would simply brush me off. We used to make every decision together but lately it seems that I was just another obstacle in his way. Or maybe just another pawn in his game.

I came out of my daze to hear the end of Dream’s speech, maybe this part he’ll fix his wording… “Don’t try and threaten me. I don’t care. I have lost all care for anything on the server…” Well there goes that hope. I couldn’t help the sobs that fell from my mouth at his words. He doesn’t care for anything on the server… I’m on the server. George, Sapnap, Punz, Bad, all his friends were on the server. He doesn’t care about us.

Suddenly it was very quiet, I knew they had heard me. I took this opportunity to step out from behind the wall I was hiding behind. All eyes softened at the sight of me, Dream’s eyes softening the most. “Y/N” he tried, taking a few steps forward but I held out a hand to stop him, “Don’t. You don’t care about anything on this server… Remember?” I hissed, marching away from him, not even turning around when he called my name once more.

I was at a lost as to where to go. I couldn’t go home. Dream would be there soon enough. I couldn’t go to the community house, too many memories. I knew he would find me at a friend’s house. Besides I needed to be alone. I needed to be somewhere where I could look down and think about everything. Then it hit me and I couldn’t stop the laugh that made it past the tears. “The reverse coaster.”

When Tommy first built this contraption, everyone, myself included, called him crazy. Who would want to climb all the way up to the top of a track just to go down it again. Now I couldn’t help but be thankful that he had made this. The journey to the top took fifteen minutes, but it was worth it. I could see everything from here. It was beautiful. Walking the thin line while looking at the ground really made me think of a tightrope… A perfect analogy for my relationship with Dream right now. Dream…

Some people long for a life, simple and planned

Tied with a ribbon

Some people won't sail the sea 'cause they're safer on land, to follow what's written

But I'd follow you to the great unknown

Off to a world we call our own

I was with Dream when he began the server. He had gotten tired living under someone else’s rule and wanted a place we could call our own. He convinced me… although it didn’t take much convincing, I would follow him anywhere. So one night we packed up what little we could carry and we left. We left into the unknown, not knowing where we were going. But we knew everything would be alright as long as we had each other.

Hand in my hand and we promised to never let go

We're walking a tightrope

High in the sky. We can see the whole world down below.

We're walking a tightrope

Never sure, never know how far we could fall

But it's all an adventure that comes with a breathtaking view

Walking a tightrope, with you

Through everything. I had always been Dream and I. For the longest time, you would never find one without the other. Our hands always seemed to interlocked. I guess it wasn’t until the first L’Manberg war when things started pulling us apart. We would stand on the obsidian walls that Dream and Sapnap had built around L’Manberg, just observing. Dream would constantly be making battle plans in his head and I was just there for moral support, I guess. We spent countless hours just watching the ‘hot dog stand’ waiting for someone to come out and make a move.

There were some nights where the scene was almost breathtaking. The walls were pretty high up, we could see a lot of the server. Everything was lit up beautifully. Building shined brightly and everything was warm and welcoming. It was perfect. I would try and get Dream to dance with me. The first few times he would agree and we would slow dance around the walls. But as battle drew nearer and nearer, we danced less and less until it stopped all together.

Mountains and valleys, and all that will come in between. Desert and ocean.

You pulled me in and together we're lost in a dream. Always in motion.

So I risk it all just to be with you

And I risk it all for this life we choose

Dream and I had fights. What couple didn’t? Dream would do something stupid and I would grill him about it but we always made up. We never went to bed angry. I never would let him leave home on adventure without a hug and a kiss goodbye. No matter how far he would travel, I always knew he would come home to me and that we loved each other. Being with Dream was… well a dream. We loved each other endlessly. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for him and I knew the feeling was mutual.

I would risk everything to be with him. Leaving the safety of one server to begin another? No problem. Fight in a war where he was on the ‘bad side’? Anything for my baby. I would give my life if it meant Dream lived. I used to know the feeling was mutual…

Hand in my hand and you promised to never let go

We're walking a tightrope

High in the sky. We can see the whole world down below

We're walking a tightrope

Never sure, will you catch me if I should fall?

I never had to worry. I knew that Dream was right there beside me. Always one step ahead. Filling in cracks and gaps in Prime Path so I wouldn’t trip and fall. Checking in on my mental health so I wouldn’t fall into a panic attack or into a depression. I always knew he would catch me, physically, mentally, and emotionally. I could trust him to be there for me. Now I’m not so sure.

Well, it's all an adventure

That comes with a breathtaking view

Walking a tightrope

With you

Loving Dream. Being with Dream. Giving everything to Dream was and always has been an adventure. Many times it took me to new heights. Let me see things I had never seen before, leaving me breathless. I was balancing on a tightrope and he was right behind me, making sure I was okay, that I was safe. He would make sure I knew how much he cared for me. How much he loved me.

These thoughts just swirled in my head. I sat down, my legs dangling over the cobblestone as I stared at the ground. What do I do from here? Dream says he doesn’t care about me anymore. For as long as I could remember, my whole life had revolved around Dream. Doing whatever he needed, being who he needed me to be. Given, he did the same thing for me. Where do I go from here?

“Y/N!” A voice shouted from below, breaking me from my concentration. My eyes scanned the ground to find that familiar green hoodie. “What are you doing up there?” I rolled my eyes in annoyance, “Why do you care?” I shouted back. There was a moment of silence before he responded, “Come down! I want to talk,” Dream called. I watched as he placed a water bucket and motioned for me to jump down. I hesitated for a moment… Did I trust him? There’s only one way to find out.

I took a deep breath before allowing myself to fall from the top of the reverse coaster. I couldn’t help but let out a giggle as the water cradled me securing me a safe landing. I quickly realized why I had jumped down in the first place and stood up to face Dream, looking down at the ground. “I’m here… What do you want?” I questioned harshly. “I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to apologize and explain myself,” He answered, trying to get me to look at him. I refused and remained silent, motioning for him to go on.

“I didn’t mean what I said. Of course I didn’t. I care about you so much Y/N. Tommy just gets me so worked up sometimes and I just speak without thinking. I love you and care for you. You know that!” Dream exclaimed, reaching out to try and grab my hands. I quickly pulled them away and snapped my eyes to his, “Do I?” I barked, causing Dream to flinch at my tone. “Do I know that you love me? That you care for me? Do I? Because lately it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it,” I snapped, all my feelings radiating off of me. “We used to do everything together. Make every decision together. We would walk the tightrope together, but lately it just feels like you’ve let me hung out to dry.”

Dream gaped at me, “I didn’t know you felt this way,” He murmured, moving toward me once more. And once again, I moved and scoffed, “That’s because you’ve been too caught up in your big scheme Dream. You’ve been using me as another pawn.” Dream began to protest but I held up a finger to cut him off, “Don’t even try to deny it. You come to me and ask me for something and once I do it, you toss me aside, only coming back when you need something. And I’m sick of it, Dream.”

Dream was silent as he thought about everything. “You’re right,” He spoke after a few moments of silence. “You are absolutely right. I’ve been horrible to you. I’ve been horrible to everyone… I’m so sorry.” Tears began to leak from Dream’s face as he spoke. “Please, give me another chance. I promise, I’ll do better. I’ll be better. I’ll be the man that you want, the one you need. Please.” He begged, reaching out to grab my hands. This time I let him grab a hold of them and hang on.

“It’s going to take some time. The damage you’ve done it too great to fix with a simple apology. You’re going to have to work hard to prove to me that you’ve changed,” I explained, looking deep into Dream’s beautiful green eyes. He nodded quickly, “I will. As long as it takes.” Dream leaned forward and wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug. “I love you so much Y/N” He murmured into my ear. “I love you too Dream. Always have, always will.”

Hope you enjoyed. If so be sure to leave a like, maybe even a reply or a reblog. Like I said I’m pretty insecure about this piece so I would love to know what you think.

#mcyt #mcyt imagine #ray-ray-writings #mcyt x reader #mcyt one shot #dream smp #dreamsmp #dream #dream one shot #dream x reader #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken #dreamwastaken x reader #dream imagine #self indulgent #tightrope

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havetheavengersdoneanythingwrong · 3 years

Text

Act 2 — Il Dottore pt. 1

'Home,' and 'leadership.' A cowardly Master finds himself in a situation far larger than he could expect -- with only a moment's rest.

A doctor would be perfect, to get his mind off it.

—

“…Who are you?”

The young woman’s eyes stared into mine for a moment, before she took one step — then another, until she were facing us all.

As Ritsuka tried helping up Caster, Mash stepped in front of them preemptively — even though the lady held no weapons, being certain was impossible with all we’d seen.

Cursing myself under my breath for not preparing more casual dress for my allies in advance, I found myself forming a tale off the top of my head — as I jumped up in a moment, stepping in front of the woman to mildly obscure the less human aspects of Gorgon and such — after all, hiding that wasn’t exactly easy, but she couldn’t just enter spirit form now that she was spotted.

“We’re… cosplayers. We came from a Renaissance Fair not far from here, but we got a bit lost and our ride ditched us.”

“…My, what a story.” The woman closed an eye, tapping a finger to her cheek in thought.

“And yet, there hasn’t been any recent Renaissance Fairs about these parts, friend.”

…

…Sh—

“—He calls it that to sound cool. He’s never actually been to a ren’ fair, so we let him off easy. It was a small thing between us and a few other online mutuals, but well. Things went south pretty quick.”

…Thank god for Ritsuka. The other Master came in strong, having seemingly adjusted their form slightly — though I couldn’t quite tell what. Regardless, the orange-haired Master stepped forward beside me, fully blocking off the line of sight for Gorgon’s tail and allowing her to stand with the others. While I could only hope she’d make her tail look artificial too, it was a bit difficult to see how she’d do that.

Even so, the lady laughed softly, and extended a hand.

“Aren’t you both a curious group? My name is… Tessie. Tessie Quin — I’m just an actor around these parts. And you?”

‘…Quin.’ Didn’t that name seem..?

Regardless, I shook her hand carefully — and Ritsuka followed suit, after sparing a glance my way to ensure I wasn’t poisoned or something, probably.

“Nice to meet ya! I’m Ritsuka, and my buddy here is Cadence.”

“And the rest of you?”

“…We’ll, uh, introduce ourselves a bit later. They’re a little hammered, so they’re a little too dedicated to their roles right now.”

A glance from Ritsuka back to our other teammates was all they needed to keep quiet and act the part — Tlazolteotl silently directing the four, alongside Mash, to seem a little bit dazed to keep Ritsuka’s story intact.

“…What an odd brigade indeed. And you said you all were lost, right? In this forest?”

Tessie curiously inquired, after gazing over our group as though double-checking our alibis — raising a finger to the forest’s edges around us, that grew more thick, and harder to see through, especially in the night. Even the moon’s soft light did little to actually illuminate the area.

‘…I’m finding myself counting us lucky for landing in the outskirts.’

As I tried to ignore the hassle of Mash trying to tell Caster not to act hammered as well, I placed my hands into my pockets — so they could ball up, and relieve a bit of stress — and spoke.

“Yeah. We tried to take a shortcut home, but that went pretty bad pretty quick. It turns out a bunch of hammered cosplayers and a baker don’t excel in navigation.”

The lady nodded, though furrowing her brow after a moment.

“…Did you all simultaneously trip or something? When I saw you, all of you were on the ground.”

…Shit.

“—Well, again. A bunch of drunkards aren’t going to excel in balance, either. There was a tree root nearby that set the lot of them off balance.”

“…You seem sober enough.”

…Shit. (Again.)

And yet again, my fellow Master steps in to save my ass. Ritsuka laughed a bit at Quin’s words, leaning back a bit.

“This dude? He’d trip over an ant, let alone an obvious tree root. He’s a baker, but he’s horribly clumsy in the vast outdoors.”

…Quin paused for a moment in thought, before laughing a little bit.

“He certainly seems the type. My… You all really are an interesting group, huh?”

'...Do I really seem like a klutz?' I had to ask myself before preparing to respond -- but then again, I didn't exactly look like the type that could walk a tightrope.

"Something like that."

I finally managed to speak up, as Ritsuka took that as their cue to take the step back.

"As of now, we're looking for a place to stay and catch our bearings. Maybe see some sights here while we're at it."

Doing my best to follow the 'background' Ritsuka laid out, I took each moment in between these sentences to breathe. 'In, and out.'

It was all I could do. As something reached out, as though intent on returning its grasp to my neck as I tried to match Ritsuka's tale, I needed to breathe carefully to scare it off.

"I was thinking, since the lot of us are already here, that we take some time to enjoy it before we head back. Would you know where a hotel or something is?"

Tessie only raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms in thought. Her eyes turned upwards, closer to the sky -- as though the stars would spell out where to go.

"On this short notice? That is a lot to ask for."

"That's true, but we do still need to go somewhere. Even if we can find a free room in a ramshackle inn, or something..."

'Ramshackle? What kind of old man am I?'

As I internally chided myself, Tessie's gaze snapped back to the two of us -- and she'd uncross her arms to snap her fingers together.

"I've got it. Come with me, all of you -- I know a place."

An hour-long walk placed us on the outskirts of the city. Looking back, I could faintly see the forest we'd come into this Singularity in -- from afar, it certainly had looked rather large, taking up the vast majority of the southern end of this place.

The faint sound of blowing wind moving through the grass of the outskirts proved to be one of the only things that kept this place from utter silence -- despite the light polluting the environment, lighting up the innards of the city even from where we were, not a single sound could be heard.

Even so, however -- no matter how quiet the city was, or how 'normal' its greyish buildings and lamps looked from afar, there was one little caveat that was alerting us to something wrong.

To our left sat a hotel, suspended by chains.

"Here we are! We call it the Float Apartments, but they only have a couple rooms filled. I think you can rent out some of the rooms as you would a hotel."

Tessie's bright voice drew my attention for a moment, watching her point to the 'apartment' as though all were perfectly normal.

True to her words, the place was 'floating.' Despite the flat environment surrounding the city, there seemed to be a chunk of rock hovering impressively high above the ground. Even trying to look for some sleight of hand, something holding that chunk of land above the ground, nothing seemed to show itself -- not even so much as well-placed fishing wire to partially explain what was happening.

The apartment itself didn't hold much answers either. If one ignored its floating qualities, it did only look like a mildly ramshackle, two-story complex, more wide than long -- with off white walls, a tan flat roof, and silver chains placed on its sides to hold it up. While its entrance was at least accessible thanks to a slight hill leading up to its front doors, it seemed just as much hovering as the rock -- though one could assume the rock were holding up this hotel, that seemed about the only thing that could be answered.

And even if it could, one question still remained.

"...Why?"

It took a solid few moments to note that Ritsuka was already preparing themselves to enter -- with Tlazolteotl taking a spare few moments to record something in her notebook, eyeing Tessie carefully, before clamping it shut and following suit.

As for Tessie herself, in response to my question, only smiled.

"The King allowed for a lot more aesthetic design, as of late. Before he vanished, he bestowed upon our Capital some interesting properties!"

'...The King.'

It's not a name I was unfamiliar with -- although Ritsuka froze in the middle of their trip to the entrance, looking back at Tessie with an expression best called 'shock.'

"The what?"

"The King, don't you know? My, I suppose they don't talk much of them outside the province after all. They rule over Canada, and maintain peace."

Ritsuka furrowed their brow, but nodded and kept moving -- gesturing to me, and the others, to follow suit.

Knowing what little I knew about the King, it did explain a small bit -- monarchs in general were subject to strange decisions now and then, and they were no exception. With the magic I'd thus far seen, it hardly seemed out of the question to make that rock float.

With that explanation in mind, I slipped into the Apartments -- followed shortly after by the others.

'...It's familiar to me.'

'As the resident Caster, it only makes sense I would know that the floating rock is magic.'

The Caster of Rakugo followed in the steps of Gorgon, passively whispering prayers and spells of 'alteration' to cast an illusion over her tail. To make it seem as though slightly jointed -- while hardly obvious, just the littlest of hinges would make the tail seem far less biological in nature.

Yet, his mind remained on the floating rock. Even a 'king,' surely, wouldn't waste their time empowering a specific rock to float.

...But at the same time, didn't that also make sense? Kings were foolish people -- they weren't dissimilar to lords of the land he knew, both in stories and in his own life. Acts of power, even beneficial ones, were often done just for the hell of it. To send a message.

...He couldn't shake the feeling the magic was familiar to him.

The inside of the hotel was remarkable in how unremarkable it was -- especially when it was all too easy to hear the creaking of the chains from the inside. Simple, if dated wooden flooring, with off-white walls and wooden baseboards stained to a slightly dark brown. As I took further steps in, weak wall-mounted lamps illuminated the shopkeep -- a golden-eyed, golden-haired man with a wide smile on his face, waving to us as we walked in.

"Why hello there! It's rare we see someone come in unless they have to, let alone... so many of you."

The receptionist's calm voice was almost enough to steady my nerves -- most likely, he was already well aware of the atmosphere the hotel set for itself, though his best attempts weren't quite enough to shake the awful feelings the literal chains creaking were putting in place.

A glance to my right saw Ritsuka shoot forward just as Morgan furrowed her brow and began to walk to the man -- taking over before the queen even had a chance to say anything.

"Well, times are a little rough. We got pretty lost on our way back from a friendly mini-Renaissance fair, and the fact a fair few of us aren't quite sober isn't helping. Me and my buddy are about the only ones who stayed above the table, but..."

As Morgan breathed out softly -- with Kagekiyo elbowing her gently -- the queen stepped back a bit.

The receptionist nodded after mulling over Ritsuka's tale for a moment, sliding to a small outdated computer monitor -- likely to start logging rooms for us to borrow.

"Well, don't worry too much about it. I'm just gonna assume you're dead broke, right?"

Ritsuka paused for a moment, but then relaxed their shoulders and continued.

"Yeah, just about. Unless you'd count a couple yen."

...Ritsuka sputtered, after a moment.

"--I'd forgot to exchange that for canadian money."

'Nice save, buddy.'

The receptionist didn't seem too bothered, laughing it off before making a few last clicks -- and, rummaging under the table, passed myself and Ritsuka a key, and attempted to hand a key to the others as well - before being met with a collective 'I'll pass.'

...Save Caster, who was for all intents and purposes a minor, and one could only assume the receptionist wasn't keen on having the little guy hold up a room.

"...Only two rooms? You have, what, eight people? Can you..?"

Ritsuka interrupted the receptionist with what could best be described as 'the cheekiest wink ever conceived by man,' before taking a step back. The receptionist, while briefly caught off guard, responded in tune with a wide grin - and, sending an equally cheeky wink my way, pointed down the left wing of the apartment.

"Your room should be that way, friend. It's got some extra room, comparatively."

...I could only whisper out a flustered 'thank you' before slipping off into the hallway, only catching the receptionist escorting Ritsuka into the rightmost wind before I came across my door.

'...Room 103.'

...I breathed out, and opened the door.

A car speeds down the Carcosan highways.

An ambulance, without its hazards on.

One could hear the equipment moving about, sliding about what one could presume to be closed cabinets, if they were to listen closely as it shot past them.

In its driver's seat --

A man, clad in black -- a large, flowing cape with a black exterior and purple interior. Remarkably poofy black sleeves, and a baggy black button-up shirt. Even their pants, boots, the feathered cap they wore -- all were completely black. Their hair, forced into the massive hat, wasn't visible at all.

And their mask -- black, covering the upper half of their face, a mustache attached to the bottom of the mask's 'nose.' The only highlights, of course, were rosy-red paint on its 'cheeks.'

A doctor by trade. A doctor they were -- on the case to find someone who they knew needed their help.

Their locket bounced on their chest, as they ran over a speed bump. Sparing a glance behind them, the doctor would smile -- looking over their tools of the trade.

Scalpel? Check.

Basic Medicine Cabinet? Check.

Tourniquet material? Check.

Wrench? Check.

Certainly -- they would help them now.

The room was, yet again, remarkably unremarkable.

The floorboards creaked as I stepped on them, the sound of the chains thankfully more distant than before.

In the moonlight, only a shoddy desk lamp and the worn room light could illuminate this temporary home -- a warm, yellow glow illuminating just enough to at least see what needed to be seen, even if the corners of the room still remained dark.

'...It's almost nostalgic.'

As 'edgy' as it sounded, it felt more homely than the Chaldea base. The poor lighting, the soft moonlight, and the creaking of the floorboards reminded me of my old home in Toronto.

A bit cheap, certainly -- but it was home.

Though, there was one major difference, now.

"...Husband."

A commandeering voice, coming from the door, but one that didn't wait for a response.

The door opened quickly, revealing a familiar white-haired woman in a black-and-blue dress. She made some haste in settling herself on the first of two beds -- the one closest to the window, of course -- sitting down and staring me down with those ever-chilling blue eyes.

"...Tlazolteotl has asked the others to do something for her."

After a moment passed, I nodded, taking a seat beside her on this bed -- though her gaze didn't move at all from me.

"Did you get out of it, or something?"

At that, Morgan chuckled slightly -- adjusting herself to better face me, closing her eyes for a moment as though in thought.

"A ruler needs her spare time, husband. If I am to rule England, the first mistake is overworking oneself."

...Biting my tongue as to not note that she hadn't done much in the singularity yet, I instead moved on.

"...And you're spending the time cooped up here?"

"Someone should stay with you, no? You hardly keep well when you're alone for too long."

'...Did she have to be so blunt?' Even with that, I laughed a bit to clear my nerves, my hands locking together, fidgeting with my thumbs.

"...I suppose so. Even so, isn't t-"

"--Silence. You wouldn't question the acts of a perfect ruler, would you?"

...I'd nod, breathing a sigh out. Those words of hers never ceased to be truly blunt -- rarely ever focused on anything apart from the inevitable rule of Britain.

Even so, to say that was the only motive was...

...

"...Morgan?"

"What do you need of me? Have you finally worked up the courage to allow me to call you 'H--"

"--Not quite!"

Cutting her off at speeds that shocked even myself, I'd forced myself to continue before she could think up anything else that I'd need to prepare my heart for.

"...How would I help you rule Britain?"

...I couldn't help but be curious -- to ask, with the two of us alone.

"...I ask genuinely, Morgan. I'm... not a hero, nor am I a ruler."

...The ruler raised an eyebrow -- but still, she paused. To give a decent answer.

...Even so, after a moment, she'd furrow her brow -- reaching an arm around me...

...And pulling me onto my side, before I could even react, my head falling into her lap. The Queen only smirked as I tried to process this momentary act -- her gaze remaining, down upon me like a laser beam piercing through my eyes, into somewhere deeper.

"...Don't think about those things, Husband."

...

"My actions are all for the rule of Britain. Such things come before all else. A hero, a ruler, cannot by themselves understand their subjects."

...I blinked, trying for a moment longer to try and figure out just what she was implying -- but she spoke up yet again, as though timed to derail my thoughts.

"...A ruler mustn't overwork themselves, and they cannot always be alone. I choose those who I prefer, to be near me, so I may rule more properly. It need not be more complex than that."

...I breathed a sigh out, once more. It only seemed ever clearer to me that a straight answer from a Berserker wouldn't be possible to begin with.

"...Rest, husband."

"Shouldn't you be the one resting, in that case?"

"...A ruler, even while taking a break, should not shirk what duties they have. It is relaxing enough to be here."

...The Berserker smiled, after a moment -- and, giving up the fight, I'd simply nod my thanks, and close my eyes, just for a moment.

'...How would I help you rule Britain?'

A curious question indeed. The Berserker furrowed her brow, running a hand through her Master's hair.

Certainly, on paper, a mere 'person' like Cadence would make for a very poor king. Cowardly, reserved, unwilling to take risks -- paranoid, and easy to get worried.

And yet...

"...Set aside your differences. Don't you dare cause any fights right now, and... Don't let him worry about the small stuff."

...The words of the Mesoamerican goddess troubled Morgan greatly. This man, one she was willing to rule with, was now being prevented from hearing what matters a ruler should know. She had to allow Cadence to forget the worries that should come with being a king -- she had to let him rest.

"If all goes well, we can discuss all of these things after the Singularity. But not before."

...She supposed the Carcosan Singularity was an obstacle to her rule, regardless. Reasoning with herself, the Madness that gripped her mind, she came to the 'natural' conclusion -- that this was a kingly duty, and one she had to aid.

...

...She kept her gaze on him -- not letting up, save only to blink.

As though he'd disappear if she looked away.

My eyes slowly opened to the sound of sirens -- as someone's hand gently shook my arm to awake me.

"Husband. Tlazolteotl is calling your name."

"...Huh?"

After a moment, I slowly lifted my head off of Morgan's lap, standing up and pinching my cheek momentarily to try and get myself ready.

"CADENCE! QUICKLY!"

The familiar voice of Tlaz, however, proved to be what spurred my mind to move -- as Morgan opened the door, glancing behind her as to not trip on anything, I ran out, and turned left--

--directly into a masked man clad in black, who quickly took hold of my hood, and began running, dropping some sort of mask on the way out.

"Who-- Who are you?!"

"A roaming doctor, child! And I had heard pray tell of an injured man this way! Falling in a forest is a prime indicator of a stressed mind!"

Footsteps could be heard behind me -- with a spare glance back, before the man forcibly pulled me, it seemed to be Morgan.

"--Come back here, you damned..!"

--Yet, the doctor forcibly held me up behind him, now running backwards, as they entered the lobby. Without the receptionist that was there prior --

--The doctor forced himself out the door, with Morgan hot on the trail, yet she found herself caught in a moment's time.

By a knife, suddenly before her -- that she only just managed to avoid.

"...Is that..?!"

With every step forward, another knife she only barely dodged -- setting her on her heels, backpedalling to regain her balance.

Despite her gaze being locked on the doctor, despite every step she took forward, it seemed -- just as suddenly -- like her body began to force itself to avoid that blade, that materialized in the air, and dematerialized just as quickly.

In my helpless state, stuck watching the ruler be caught in a loop of avoiding the same blade, I found the tunnel vision obscured the ambulance doors that now shut in front of me.

...

...The lights turned on.

Around me -- motor oil, gears, pistons. Motors connected to various power sources -- even weapons, attached to mechanical structures that hardly made sense even to me.

In a moment, before I could even comprehend what I was thrown onto, clasps on the ambulance's 'bed' locked me in -- and judging from the sudden speed increase I could feel, the ambulance was already well on its way.

As I blinked to try and get a hold of my surroundings, the masked man that took me finally came into view -- my peripherals returning, despite the adrenaline still running through me.

"Good, good! The hardest part is handled. Now, dear patient, you do understand that stress takes a toll on the mind, right?"

Even as he spoke, I tried to pull against the restraints -- but, of course, no dice.

"I'll take that resistance as a 'no.' You should know that if your brain is stationary too long, stress begins to build. That, truly, does not bode well for you."

...Another pull against the restraints -- but I froze, momentarily, as he spoke. 'What the hell is he talking about..?'

"Now, dear patient, I have to check for indicators of stress in the brain. I've done this before, rest assured!"

The man walked to my left -- his hands rummaging through what sounded like a duffle bag.

"All I had to do was go into my patient's skull and find the parts of the brain that were stressed -- and deal with them."

...The man turned around, holding two splintered wooden stakes, as though ripped straight from fresh lumber.

"Of course, the pros -- unwilling to accept the fact that you should 'rest your brain,' or cut off the stress in your life -- voided my medical license! But it hardly matters now, does it? After all, I did get a medical license, so who cares if I lost it?"

'What does he..?'

The man stepped to his right, and procured some sort of metal slab -- crafted into something akin to a cut sphere, as though a third of it had been cut out -- and wire had been placed at its end, running downwards.

"Now, rest assured, patient -- I'll be making sure you must only do this once. Because I have a permanent solution to stress, and it beats simply resting your mind and returning it after."

...Something gripped my throat, at that moment -- siphoning my breath from my lungs.

The man smiled, positioning a stake in each hand -- and stepping forward, leaning over me from the right.

"Keep your eyes open, dear patient. Hurts less that way."

The man laughed a moment, as though just preparing a filling, positioning the stakes --

I'm finding myself unable to breathe, all of a sudden. Those wooden things, suddenly above me -- their sharp, splintered edges lowering themselves down...

The cold, sharp hands tear at my spine, my lungs. I shudder, unable to move -- a clasp around my neck secures my head in place.

The man in the mask smiles.

"The brain is ultimately just a biological computer. A very fragile one, however - weak to age, disease, and stress alike. It needs breaks. But it is still a computer."

Another clamp. My eyelids are forced back. My breath quickens, but I'm getting no air.

The hold of the beast is tearing holes in my lungs. I breathe, and it isn't enough.

I can't even speak -- not enough to use the Command Spells. And as the knife had stopped even the Queen, surely...

"A computer can be replicated if you know enough about computers. A perfect computer, that isn't harmed by stress nor by misery. You can simply remove those feelings."

He takes a moment, glancing from the 'brain' to me.

"No matter what, if the data is copied properly, you will believe you are 'you' -- even if your brain is fake."

...He leans over me, smiling. In a moment, he stared deep into my pupils --

"Isn't technology amazing?"

--and the stakes suddenly fall.

#fgo #mastersona #gudasona #l o r e #cadenceloreposting #tw: medical shit #tw: eye trauma #columbina #il dottore #ae of rakugo #caster of rakugo

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hockeyboysiguess · 4 years

Text

mirrorball | a. matthews

a/n: first in a series of sixteen fics based off taylor swift’s new album, folklore. full list here.

You sighed as the front door closed behind you. It had been a long day; weddings always were. Being a wedding guest was usually just a series of slightly uncomfortable, awkward experiences back to back to the point where you became as numb to them as your feet were from your heels due to general exhaustion and open bars and all you would have to say about the evening when your co-workers asked you about it on Monday was that it was fine. You had made it through the day, thanks to champagne and your boyfriend. He intercepted some of the worst potential interactions for you, even taking on your great aunt’s cheek pats that verged on slaps for you. He had been a champion today, according to your mom, and you couldn’t agree more.

“That was exhausting,” Auston sighed as he shuffled past you into the kitchen. “Remind me get a restraining order against your great aunt. I think she basically slapped me.”

You laughed at his words, letting your feet carry you into the living room as you tried to will your exhausted, running mind to rest for a moment. Tonight, despite it’s obvious down being that it was a wedding and you were close enough to the age where it was considered acceptable to be getting engaged, you had a good day. Any day you could spend with Auston without the noise of his job and the world’s thoughts about the two of you was a good day. Sure, everyone at the wedding had opinions, but theirs were within scope, within the socially allowed levels of casual judgment. What you and Auston usually dealt with was out of scope, and it wore on you heavily.

You wanted nothing more than to make everyone else happy. It was one of your best qualities, but also the one that brought you the most pain. There was only so much broken glass a person could pick up when trying to make the world a better place before their palms became bloody and scarred and parts of you started to break off in an effort to make yourself easier to tolerate, easily palatable to everyone. The parts of you that broke off, some of them broken forcibly by yourself kicking and screaming, in an effort to be adored by the masses were blending with the broken parts of the world you saw and you didn’t know what to pick up anymore.

You felt like you were on a tightrope, balancing the person you knew you were and the person everyone wanted you to be, the person everyone would like, as you tried to walk across it. The two identities were entirely different weights. The person you were was heavy. She was real and strong and powerful, a three-dimensional human being incapable of being liked by everyone simply because she had opinions. The person everyone would like was a shallow grave, void of personality or content, waiting for the real you to fall into it and swallow you whole. You wanted so badly to be able to shed yourself of that two-dimensional false personality, but the real you was too much, too raw, too real to risk in front of the world. You chose instead to try to use it sparingly. Each time you did, it turned you into a mirrorball, reflecting and almost magnifying the best qualities of the people around you, spinning at a fast pace in an effort to provide that reflection and amplification to as many people as possible. There wasn’t space for you in it and the spinning made you constantly dizzy. Mirrors didn’t shine themselves; they simply reflected whatever was turned to them.

The killer part of it all was from your tightrope you couldn’t even see the platform you left to start your journey, nor could you see the platform you were theoretically walking it, which made you question what you were even doing on the tightrope in the first place. Was there even a platform on the other side?

Auston wasn’t like you. There were multiple parts to him, but they made up one whole human being. He brought out different parts of his personality around different people, in different environments, but he owned every single part equally; none had more weight than the other. He was solid, firm, complete. You were fractured and unbalanced, a house of torn and taped together playing cards desperately hoping a breeze didn’t come by and topple you.

Auston didn’t really understand why you cried sometimes when everything became too much. He held you while you cried and rubbed your back gently. He didn’t understand because that desperate personality never came out to face him. You were always yourself with him. It’s why you, despite multiple failed relationships and countless almosts that led to real heartbreaks, were still here. He was different. You tried with him, because relationships take effort, but the you that tried was real and imperfect and good and he loved that you. The him that tried with you was the same one everyone else got, you just got every single piece, sometimes all at once, and you thanked your lucky stars he was easier to love than you were.

Your feet were still sort of numb thanks to your heels that you refused to take off. Auston had tried to get you to bring flats for the reception, but you’d waved him off because they didn’t go with the dress. Maybe you should’ve just swallowed the aesthetics for comfort, but you did love those heels. You sighed as you let your feet slowly start to carry you in a circle, your body swaying as you hummed one of the songs from the wedding softly to yourself. You closed your eyes and focused on your movements in an effort to clear your mind.

When you opened your eyes, you saw Auston standing in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen. His tall frame was leaned against it. His suit jacket was off and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His tie was loose around his neck and his hair that had been perfectly in place when you left that morning was drooping onto his forehead untamed. He had a soft, kind smile on his face that carried into his eyes and somehow deeper into him. His dark eyes were watching you sway, his smile growing as he watched and let out a soft laugh.

“What?” you asked him, tilting your head to the side and raising an eyebrow at him.

He laughed a little louder before pushing off the doorframe. He crossed the room until he reached you. His large hands reached for you, finding purchase on your hips. You smiled up at him as you let your arms climb up to fall over his shoulders. You kept humming along and let Auston start to sway you slowly to the tempo of the song you were humming.

“Thank you for coming,” you told him, foregoing your humming in favor of speaking to him now.

“Of course,” he nodded softly. “Boyfriend duty, right?”

You laughed, making him laugh, one thing you were really good at and always wanted to be good at. He pulled you closer into his chest and continued to dance with you, slowly working you in a circle with him as you swayed to music that wasn’t playing.

“Boyfriend duty,” you agreed softly.

“I think I did alright,” Auston told you.

"You did great,” you replied, your voice quieter than before. “Better than I would have done if roles were reversed, but I’d give it my all.”

Auston sighed, his head rolling back a little. His hands fidgeted with the material of your dress as he thought. You weren’t sure exactly what was going through his mind, but you could see the pained expression on his face as he debated whether or not to tell you what he was thinking.

“You know you’re beyond good enough, right?” Auston told you as he lifted his head back so he could meet your eyes with his. “You don’t need this act you do. I like you, for you. So will everyone else.”

But they won’t. They’ll only like parts of me, the parts of me that make them feel good about themselves, but they won’t like all of me. If they don’t like all of me, what’s the point?

“Not everyone on the planet is meant to like you, you know?”

You hadn’t realized those thoughts came out of your mouth, that they hadn’t just been in your head, until Auston replied to them. You bit your lip and dropped your eyes to the floor, staring at Auston’s dark dress shoes and your heels instead of his face.

“And that’s a good thing. If everyone liked you, I probably wouldn’t. You’re not for everyone, baby, and that’s a good thing. I love you, the real you, the one that’s here right now. You don’t have to pretend to be this sort of personality-free robot all the time. Less people might like you, but the people who like you will like you for real things, like I do.”

“It’s not that easy, Aus,” you sighed as you let your eyelids drop closed. You picked up your head, but kept your eyes closed. The possibility tears would fall down your cheeks when you opened your eyes was too high to risk it. Auston couldn’t handle seeing you cry. “It’s just not that simple.”

“But it is.” Auston cut you off before you could finish. “I know it would be a change and change is scary, but you’ll be happy. You won’t cry so much.”

You shook your head as a pathetic, sad smile fell over your face. It was a hopeless smile, full of pain from the pulling inside of you between one side that desperately wanting to do what Auston was offering and the realistic part of you that knew it would never work.

“Auston, it’s like I’m on a trapeze. I’m swinging back and forth, but never landing somewhere fully. I’m just swinging, performing stunts at high levels of personal risk, so other people have a good time. I’m swinging back and forth between myself and the person people actually like. There’s no net. There’s no where to go. The just have to keep swinging. I can’t reach a platform.”

You opened your eyes to see Auston’s brow furrowed down and he had started shaking his head softly. He lifted one of his hands up from your hip to cup the side of you face, his thumb rubbing the few tears that had slid out away.

“I’m the net, baby,” Auston told you. “Choose to fall. Choose to fall right now. No more swinging. Just be you, the real you, all of the time. I’ll catch you. I promise, I’ll catch you.”

You shook your head, causing his other hand to come up to the other side of his face and hold your head in place for a moment. You had no choice but to look at him as a few tears spilled down your cheeks even though you wanted nothing more than for that not to be occurring right now. Auston pulled his lips in between his teeth as he looked at you.

“Yes, you can,” he assured you. His voice was steady and firm, void of any doubt. He was solid and sure, a rock that had battered storm after storm and never moved an inch. This storm couldn’t hurt him and he knew it. He was tired of standing on the sidelines, watching it hurt the person he loved. “Let go. I’ll catch you. I know it’s a process, but we’ll work on it together. Just try, not for me, but for yourself. Try.”

You closed your eyes and took in a deep breath. You trusted Auston. You trusted him more than anyone else you knew. If you didn’t trust him enough to catch you, to finally stop the spinning, the breaking, the constant unbalanced sensation you carried, then this feeling would be permanent. It couldn’t be permanent. You didn’t want to feel like this anymore. You took a deep breath again. You needed to fall, you just didn’t know how. The look in Austin’s dark eyes told you he was going to be standing there, waiting for you, no matter how messy it was, that he was going to be right there while you figured out how to shed the fake skin you wore and found your footing at yourself. You didn’t know exactly how it was going to work, but the steadiness of his hands and the feeling in your chest told you this was worth the risk.

“Okay, catch me.”

#auston matthews #auston matthews fic #auston matthews imagine #auston matthews writing #folklore writing series #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #nhl fic #hockey fanfiction #hockey writing #nhl writing

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drethanramslay · 4 years

Text

A funny thing called Fate: Chapter 2

Pairing: Bryce X MC (Aisha Khurrana)

Word Count: 4.6 K words (yeah yeah its more than usual)

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Warning: None, just some cursing

Author’s note: The next chapter is here and it is in Aisha’s POV!!

I decided to take part in @choicesseptemberchallenge20 and the prompt is heaven which you will find in bold.

TERMS THAT YOU NEED TO KNOW:

- IIT, Delhi: It’s one of the most premier institute for engineering in India. Delhi campus is said to be the best one in the country. The majority of the Indian CEO’s like Google, at least have a degree of IIT under their belt.

-ku'uipo: Sweetheart

-'Ae: Yes

- Beta padhai par dhyaan do, dost aate jaate hai: Child, focus on your studies, friends come and go (TBH this is the one line which maximum desi kids have heard while growing up. That's why we can be uh.. awkward in making new friends lol)

-Main kya gadhi hoon: I'm such a dumbass (side note: gadhi (female) actually means donkey in hindi)

-Duniya main maine itna bada gaandu kabhi dekha nahi hai maine: I have not seen a bigger asshole than this guy. (yes I love swearing in hindi and what about it)

Forgive me if i made any errors

10 YEARS AGO- AISHA'S POV

My fingers ran against the spines of the book, my head tilted as I searched for a new book to dive into.

"Found anything of your liking, Aisha?" Tina, the librarian asked, her kind eyes twinkling. The old librarian loved me because I always helped around in sorting the books or with checkout. She suggested that if I were to help her, she would pay me so I decided why not?

But the lack of people coming to the library and their constant need to be fake on social media, flexing about their looks instead of textbooks often left the library empty which consequently resulted in free time.

Not that I minded.

In that free time I would either catch up on my study assignments or I would read the books recently added to the collection be it fiction, politics, history, astronomy... I wasn't picky about the genres.

But lately, my attention is being drawn to medical journals and textbooks. Yes, I'm 16 and that its definitely not people my age do but, to be the person balancing on the tightrope between life and death, the person who stands between existence and heaven... it's just a beautiful paradox that I can't help be captivated by the concept.

That and my strengths are biology and chemistry so its just an added plus. So, I definitely dream of being a world class doctor.

Not to brag, but I know all the pulse points in the body and can name the bones of the skull in my sleep. My parents don't know that because... let's say there is a reason why I stay out of home for the majority of the day.

Are we again going to go over this? I am sick and tired of your fucking indiscipline. How I wish you could be more like Aditya... Mama's voice rung in my ears which made me close my eyes and take a shuddering breath.

Now is not the time to think about how awful you are. I repeated it in my head like a mantra, making it a point to message my brother and rant about the newest development.

Despite our parents trying to pit me against bhaiya, we were thick as thieves. We always had each other's backs and we're there to cheer each other up. Whenever our parents would scream at any of us, we would wait until they fell asleep to do something to lift the other person up. Midnight feasts, movie binge or just cuddling and imagining a future where we were away from them... That always managed to cheer me up and I knew bhaiya enjoyed it too.

I don't think we fought that much either because we were pretty close in age, with only three and a half years difference. We are pretty like-minded and scientifically inclined only he was interested in computer engineering while I was fascinated by the engineering of the human body.

It sucked that he is in IIT, Delhi while I'm so far away. We still manage to video call irrespective of the time zones but it is not the same as having the comfort of your older brother.

"I think I will take this." I handed her a battered copy of Gray's anatomy.

Tina just gave a knowing smile and I checked out. I headed to the nearby Fleming Beach Park, which is one of the most popular beaches in Maui. It was a five-minute walk from the library and the majority of the school population used to come here to hang out in the evenings.

Not that I was paying any attention to my oblivious classmates.

I headed to Kimo's Beach Shack and the owner gave me a gentle smile.

"What will it be, ku'uipo? The usual?" They asked as they wiped their hand on the dishtowel.

"'Ae." I smiled at them and they started making my favourite drink- Strawberry milkshake.

Precariously balancing my bag, the drink in one hand and my wrist-thick library book under the armpit of my other hand, I headed to the quieter side of the beach, away from the raucous.

I settle down under the shade of the palm trees and lean back against the rocks, taking in the view around me. I could see people from my school roaming around in their swimming suits either playing volleyball or surfing. As I sipped my milkshake (looking like an absolute loner, must I add) my eyes drifted to their happy faces as the joked around, laughing and having fun with their friends.

The two concepts that are so unfamiliar to me.

When I was back in India, I had a good group of friends who I would hang out with and play basketball with. It was good but shifting to a new place can strain those relationships. I do follow them on social media but seeing them enjoying and doing the things which we used to do together, it causes my heart to ache.

And I never really tried making friends here in Maui because a) The people here didn't consider me as one of them and b) My parents kept on saying it is temporary so there was no point focusing on that. Beta padhai par dhyaan do, dost aate jaate hai. My dad told me the one night I decided to express my excessive loneliness.

Thanks papa, real helpful. I shook my head, sipping my drink as I carefully opened my library book.

"You look sad." A childish voice spoke up breaking me out from my melancholy. I looked up and saw a four-year-old girl, her doe-like eyes staring down at me. She was wearing a pink summer dress and a cute bow hairband, taming her light brown hair.

"Huh?"

"You look sad... and lonely."

"I am okay, keiki... Don't worry."

The kid's eyebrows furrowed with confusion. "How did you know my name?"

My eyes widened. In the two years in Hawaii, I had learnt a little bit of Hawaiian and spoke in bits and pieces. And I'm pretty sure keiki meant 'child' in Hawaiian so you could imagine the shock I felt when her name was the literal translation of child.

Who the fuck names their child... child?

"A lucky guess. It is nice to meet you Keiki." She moved her hand forward and Keiki's hand clutched my big hand with her small ones shaking it. Her hand was as big as my palm.

"What's your name?" Keikie asked as she sat down next to me.

"I'm Aisha. And, what are you doing here all alone?"

"I came with my elder brother but he and his friends were playing and he forgot his promise to build a sandcastle with me. So I just went walking." She huffed and crossed her short arms across her chest.

"Well, your brother would be worried about you, won't he?" I asked as her eyes scan the crowd, looking for a guy who remotely looks like my little companion.

"Well, I think that's a go-good puni-shi-ment for him." She struggled with the big word.

Aisha chuckled and soon Keiki's giggles joined hers.

"You remind me of the times when I used to bother my elder brother like that. He would get so mad."

"Where is he now?" She asked as her hands fisted the sand, her eyes moving to look at the brunette.

"Well, he is in university, in a completely different country."

"Do you miss him?"

"A lot." I sighed. Her puppy eyes met mine and she reached to hold my elbow. I smiled down at her, appreciating the gesture. She opened her mouth to ask me more questions when we heard a commotion.

"KEIKI!! There you are!" A shout wafted towards us, interrupting Keiki. I saw a tall guy jogging towards us and when my eyes landed on him, I immediately recognized him.

Bryce Lahela. The golden boy of my school, with girls and guys falling for him, left, right, centre. And right now, he was approaching me completely shirtless, his abs glistening in the evening sun. He had a Polynesian tattoo wrapping around his left bicep and ending a little below his collarbone which had me feeling... uh thirsty?

Cool, cool, cool, just act like yourself.

Yeah as if that's helped you deal with your awkwardness. Her conscience snarked at her.

“Shut up.” I muttered to myself. But, I wasn’t subtle enough and Bryce turned towards me, a weird look in his eyes.

Off to a great start, Aisha. Keep up the good work. I mentally groaned as I went back to reading my library book.

"Thank god Keiki you are okay... I was so worried." He kneeled and hugged her, immediately forgetting my weird mumblings. I could feel the body heat emanating from him and suddenly, the anatomy of the kidney seemed more interesting than the hot guy beside me.

"Its okay Bryce. I was talking to my new friend." Keiki squeaked as she pulled away from the hug, two sets of hazel eyes staring at me now.

My eyes widened and I subconsciously reached to push my glasses up my nose, feeling the back of my neck heating up.

"Well, thank you so much." His voice reverberated and I swear I felt as if I would combust at the spot.

I looked up and shot a tiny smile. "No worries. Keiki here makes a nice study buddy."

I internally smacked my head. Study buddy? Really? Who uses that term now?

"Of course. Daddy says that I'm a beauty with brains." She said with a smug smile.

"Well, that's the one thing that I agree with dad," Bryce said as he settled down on her other side. The one feet distance enabled my mind to resume working.

I smiled down at Keiki and I found that Bryce was looking at me intently.

O... okay?

"Wait... You go to my school right? Lahainaluna High School?"

I nodded my head. I was about to introduce myself when his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

He was snapping his fingers when his face lightened up with recognition. "You are Aisha, right? The newbie who joined us last year I was in your chemistry class last year."

The drink almost fell from my hand and I had to clutch it tighter to prevent myself from making a bigger mess. Clearing my throat I smiled nervously. "Yeah, that's me. You are Bryce, right? You are on the basketball team, right?"

"You know me?" He asked, shocked and I could hardly stop myself from rolling my eyes.

"Duh?! You are Mr. Popular with really good looks and either people love you or hate you." I rambled off.

A small smile played on his lips. "And which category would you belong too? The love or hate category?"

I gave a shy smile. "Let's just say I'm on neutral grounds. Give me a good reason why I should like you."

"Because of my dashing looks? My tattoo?" He stretched his hands wide, gesturing towards himself. His hair caught the evening light, making it look like a halo. His hazel eyes had flecks of gold which threatened to drown me but before I could get lost in his sheer beauty, I shook my head to snap out of the daze of his presence and gave a mocking sigh.

"Aaaannnndd, he is just like other dumb jocks who is overly obsessed with his looks. Why are they all the same?"

Keiki put her hand sympathetically on my lap. "Don't worry Ash. I don't like Bryce when he talks about his looks either."

Bryce gasped. "Keiki you are breaking my heart."

"Good."

He reached for her and started tickling her which made her squeal with laughter. I had to get up so that the sand doesn't get on me, laughing at the sight. "Brryyccee!! Stopp!!"

"Not until you tell me I'm the best brother in the world."

Gasping for breath with tears in her eyes, Keiki breathed out in defeat. "Okay, okay. You are the best... brother in... the world."

Bryce pulled back a grin playing on his lips.

"Good."

My phone rang and I saw Mama's name flash on the screen which made me sigh.

"Your mom?" Bryce asked.

"Yep. should reach home before she turns into momzilla." We chuckled as I put my book into my bag.

"Bye Keiki, it was nice talking to you."

"Bye Ash. I like you. Can we make sandcastles next time?" I laughed and nodded, "Sure sweetie."

"Where is my goodbye?" Bryce pouted.

I rolled her eyes. "Bye Bryce. See you around."

And with that, I turned on her heel, and walked home, feeling much better.

PRESENT

Aisha felt like banging her head against the wall of the hospital out of utter embarrassment. In the span of 7 hours, she had pissed off her superior, met her ex from ten years ago, got stuck with a partner who hardly did anything and now managed to embarrass herself yet again in front of her role model.

Rookie... Are you hiding from me? The way Dr. Ramsey had an eyebrow raised, as if to question why she was hiding behind another intern and the appalled expression as she stumbled over her words were forever imprinted in her mind.

Not my brightest moment. Aisha recollected as she sighed at the way she stuttered and finally came up with an excuse.

I'm doing charts. She mocked herself as she shook her head. There was a table right next to me!! I could have come up with anything but that weak ass excuse.

And she had always dreamed that if she were to meet Bryce in real life, she would definitely insult the fuck out of him and then for the finishing stroke, she would probably punch him in his handsome face or kick him in the crown jewels.

But sadly, you seldom get the things you wish for.

I don't have time for this - Main kya gadhi hoon. She mentally groaned as she tried to shut off the part of her brain which was so hell-bent on making her feel humiliated.

She entered Annie's room to find her curled up in her bed, playing idly with her phone. She perked up a little when she saw Aisha, forcing a smile on her face.

"Oh. Hi, Dr. Khurrana."

"I just came by to see how you're feeling Annie."

Annie shrugged. "The same. The nurse came by and gave me some medication a little while ago.."

Opening Annie's chart she checked. "Yeah, antibiotics. It's too soon to see any improvement yet, but hopefully, we'll see some results soon."

Aisha was about to turn on her heel and leave when she heard Annie's small voice. "hey, could you stay awhile? It's... kinda lonely, being here all on my own."

Aisha gave an empathetic smile and reached to sit down on the chair near her bed. "Of course I can."

"Thank you once again doc."

"No, thank you. I haven't been off my feet since I got out of bed this morning. So Annie," Aisha leaned forward, "what are you studying?"

Annie blinked as if she was confused by the question. She took a couple of heavy breaths before attempting to answer.

"My master's is in... English... but my... my..." She swayed, her voice woozy as she tried to finish her sentence.

Aisha was on alert. "Annie, are you feeling okay?" She asked as she felt her pulse which was dropping before Annie passed out.

The heart rate monitor sounded a long, flat tone as her heart stopped.

"OH MY GOD!! Code blue, I need some help here!!" Aisha shouted, pressing the button near her bed.

"C'mon Annie stay with me." As Aisha stood on the nearby stool, performing CPR as she waited for the code team to arrive.

"Aisha?!" Jackie's shocked voice made her lookup.

"Jackie, where is the code team?"

"Room 502 called a code blue just before you. Just keep up with CPR. They'll get to you when they can!"

Aisha's eyes flashed. "That could be too late!! Help me, Jackie we are losing her fast."

"What were her symptoms?" Jackie asked as she snapped on the latex gloves and moved towards the bed.

"Symptoms were headache and nausea. Started during her vacation to Indonesia. Aurora and I did a blood workup and gave her cefpodoxime." Aisha opened the gown and Jackie's eyes narrowed in on the rash rapidly spreading on the side of the body.

"She is breaking in hives. She is in anaphylactic shock!"

"Now that I think about it, it may be because of her allergy to the antibiotics I gave... I had fucking asked her, dammit." Guilt made her chest heavy.

Jackie's face turned into a scowl as she wheeled the defibrillator cart closer. "It doesn't matter whose fault it is. This girl needs you now! We have to get her heart started ourselves."

Aisha nodded as she opened Annie's gown, baring her chest. She took a steadying breath. You have done this numerous times in AIIMS, you can do this.

Taking the paddles, she placed one paddle on the right side, beneath her collarbone and the other paddle on the left side, just beneath her armpit.

A small impressive smile made its way on Jackie's lips. "Good, now set the charge."

"Charging to 300 volts... Clear!"

Annie's body spasmed as the paddles discharged. Keeping them aside, Aisha resumed her compressions on Annie's chest.

C'mon Annie... You can do this... Come back to me. Aisha prayed.

The monitor beeped twice before Annie's heartbeat returned, accelerated but constant.

She let out a sigh of breath as she bent over the bed. Jackie clapped her back. "You are soooo lucky."

"Shut up. Now just give her an epinephrine injection and intubate while I maintain compression."

Jackie nodded her head and Aisha shot a grateful smile as she continued her compressions, her hands aching.

"What the hell is going on in here, Rookie?"

Yikes. Aisha winced at the tone and looked up to find Dr. Ramsey glaring from the doorway.

Time to own up, buddy. She sighed and spoke up. "Dr. Ramsey, she was allergic to the antibiotics I prescribed.

She couldn't gauge his reaction from so far away. "Well... at least you are taking responsibility. Sometimes patients don't know about their own allergies. That's why you always have to be cautious."

Jackie injected the epinephrine pen into Annie's tight. Still unconscious, Annie took a shuddering gasp of air.

"And now we intubate."

"Excellent work, Doctor...?"

A self-satisfied smile made its way on Jackie's face. "Varma."

"You were assigned to this case?"

"No, I was passing and I hear Dr. Khurrana calling a code blue."

A smile made its way on his face which shocked Aisha. This man voluntarily uses his facial muscles to smile? I wouldn't have known. "The patient's very lucky you were here. I'm not confident Dr. Khurrana could have handled this alone."

Now, wait a damn minute... Aisha clenched her jaw. This wasn't her first time she was getting insulted and yeah it was called for but it didn't help her feel any better either.

Jackie bit her lip and glanced at Aisha, which Aisha pointedly ignored. Watch her jump at the opportunity in 3...2...1

"Thank you. Just doing my job, Dr. Ramsey."

There it is.

Gulping down her annoyance, Aisha spoke up. "Dr. Varma really bailed me out." Aisha turned towards Jackie and nodded stiffly. "Thank you, Dr. Varma."

Jackie tried to read her, guilt swimming in her eyes.

She should be guilty, she took the credit of the save when I was the one calling the shots.

"...Anytime."

Fuck you. She narrowed her eyes slightly which made Jackie wince.

Luckily, Dr. Ramsey gave Jackie an out. "Dr. Varma, you should return to your patients."

A relieved smile made its way on her face. "Yes, Doctor." Throwing a backward glance towards Aisha, she walked out.

Dr. Ramsey swivelled towards Aisha, his face drawn tight with annoyance. "And you... you need to have a long hard think about whether or not you're ready to be here. It doesn't matter that it's your first day, or that you're still learning. Whether this girl lives or dies is on you. Is that clear?"

"Crystal, Dr. Ramsey."

"You still have no idea what's wrong with her, and your first attempt nearly killed her. This is the real world. No room for mista--"

"Hi, Dr. Ramsey? Sorry to interrupt." A short Asian intern interrupted him and Aisha let out a small sigh of relief.

This guy would give my parents a run for their money. Why do I meet assholes everywhere I go?

"For the love of God, what now?"

"One of the nurses told me... that one of the other interns told them... that one of the doctors said..."

Dr. Ramsey certainly didn't enjoy beating around the bush. With a biting voice, sharp enough to make both Aisha and the intern to flinch, he commanded. "Skip to the point."

"Dr. Toussaint needs to see you urgently." She rushed.

Dr. Ramsey pinched the bridge of his nose, muttered something about 'interns' under his breath.

Straightening his coat, who gave pointedly glanced at Aisha. "Remember what I said, Rookie. Next time I see you, you'd better have solved the case." He turned on his feet and stormed out making the petite intern jump.

Aisha stepped out into the hall with the intern, leaned against the wall and let out a sigh.

"Thank god for Dr. Toussaint. I swear if he wouldn't have called, Dr. Ramsey would have burst a vein or something."

The intern leaned against the wall adjacent to Aisha. "Yeah... Too bad he doesn't actually need to see Dr. Ramsey."

Aisha's eyes widened and she turned to stare at the other intern. "Huh?"

"I made it up! I could hear Ramsey chewing you out halfway down the hall, I figured you might need a save."

Oh my god, that is the sweetest thing anyone has done for me.

Aisha smiled brightly. "Thank you so much. I really appreciate it. But you could get in serious trouble if he realizes it."

She shrugged with a cheeky grin. "If. Besides, I'm tougher than I look. I'm Sienna by the way. Or Dr. Trinh. Whichever floats your boat."

"I'm Aisha Khurrana. Thanks again." Aisha's pager beeped and she looked down and sighed. "As fun as our little adventure was, I need to get back to work. Nice talking to you Sienna and once again, thanks for the save."

"Bye, hope you solve the case. Also, wait! I heard all the doctors hang out at this bar called Donahue's. I think, just down the street. Apparently, it's like the place to go and decompress after a long shift. Wanna come?"

"Sure!! If only I survive my first shift."

Sienna gave a brilliant smile. "Assuming you live through the next few hours, I'll meet you in the atrium after we clock out."

And Aisha got back to work, tending to her other patients but Annie's unconscious face kept on flashing behind her eyelids and Ramsey's words echoed in her head, like a broken tape recorder.

You need to have a long hard think about whether or not you're ready to be here.

She took a shuddering breath, doubt slipping into her mind, making her question everything she did. Every patient she treated and every prescription she signed.

Am I really cut out for this?

She tried to stop the rising anxiety but it still continued to swell in her like a balloon. Her throat began to dry up and it felt as if the weight on her chest didn't allow her to breathe.

Oh god, it's happening.

Feeling like she was on the verge of a breakdown, she ducked into a dark supply closet so nobody could see her while she tried to pull herself together.

It's okay. You worked your way through med school to get here. You are worthy. She chanted, taking in gulps of air.

It had hardly been a minute when the door suddenly opened and she heard footsteps.

Aisha internally groaned in annoyance. "Get in or get out. Just quit holding the door." She turned around and saw Bryce.

Oh fuck.

He nervously cleared his throat and walked towards her, maintaining his distance. "I feel like I'm interrupting something. Are... are you okay?"

Thanks to the dark, he couldn't see her tear rimmed eyes. Sighing loudly she untied her hair and ran her fingers through it, something she often did when she felt like her life was on the verge of falling apart.

"Nothing. I'm just looking for something." She tried to speak in a sharp tone but it just sounded like her voice was cracking.

She knew that Bryce had definitely heard how close she was to crying. Concern laced his voice. "Hey, I know when we met I was nothing but a dumb, self-obsessed jock but it's different now. I... I know you are not okay. Want to talk about it? Or vent?"

Goddamit Bryce. "Fine! I almost killed my first patient and I fucking swear to god I saw my career flash before my eyes. But it was lowkey my fault. I should have checked for allergies. But I tried fixing my error by calling the shots and Jackie helped me. BUT that's not it! Instead of being a humble person, Jackie swoops in and takes the credit of my save and Dr. Ramsey just goes on congratulating her as if she won some fucking AMA Award-"

"Aisha, breathe."

Taking a lungful of air she continued. "- And don't even get me started on Dr. Ethan Freaking Ramsey. Duniya main maine itna bada gaandu kabhi dekha nahi hai maine. What a dick!! He should get fucking laid to work off all his anger issues-"

Bryce snorted but didn't dare to interrupt Aisha. From the short time they dated, he knew better than to interrupt her mid-rant, it only managed to instigate her.

Another deep breathe. "- Boy does he manage to make me doubt myself in every step of the way like am I worthy of being here? I mean, I threw my heart and soul into med school because I wanted to be the best doctor out there but dammit I don't think I am ready."

When he made sure she wasn't going to launch into a new roast session, he spoke up. "Wow. You managed so many years of med school, but eight hours into the shift and you're surrendering? Didn't take you for a quitter."

Excuse me? Aisha's eyes narrowed.

"You don't know me anymore Bryce. The Aisha you dated is long gone and dead." She said in a low voice.

He shrugged. "True, but I know that you still have the fire in you to do what you love the most. C'mon, you have dealt with worse but yet you are here, standing tall. This is just temporary. I know you can pick yourself back up and break down all the obstacles in front of you."

She looked up at Bryce, only able to see the faint outline of his body. He still was the same- tall, well built and with really good hair. "No offence but... you used to be the guy who would wet himself during chemistry practicals, what happened to make you so...?" She gestured her hand at him, accidentally hitting his hand.

He hesitated. "As you said, things changed and you don't know me anymore Aisha."

"Fair enough."

The lack of space and the awkward silence just fueled the tension between them. She could feel his converse bumping into her shoes and the heated gaze on her face.

There used to be a time when Aisha and Bryce would talk for hours on end and they never ran out of topics to talk about. Be it something as lame as which is the superior flavour of ice cream or as deep as life after death.

Look at us now... Aisha thought to herself, gulping.

Her hair fell on her face as she averted her eyes, unable to come up with something to talk about. Bryce's hand involuntary reached to push back the rebel strands behind her ear, his hands caressing her cheek in the process. It felt as if electric sparks shot up her cheeks, making her blush.

Bryce opened his mouth. "Aisha-"

The door opened and she heard a feminine voice. "Bryce I saw you giving me the look so I decided to join you-"

A woman walked around the corner of the help and Aisha's jaw dropped. It was not because she was shocked that he was dating, he could screw the entire hospital for all she cared but, no... she was topless.

"Oh." The unknown woman placed her hands beside her.

"Sam-" Bryce began and Aisha spoke up at the same time. "I was just-"

The confusion was interrupted again when the closet door opened again and a senior resident stood before them, aghast. "What is going on over here?"

"Oh fuck." The expletive spilt from Aisha's lips.

The topless woman, whose name apparently was Sam, quipped in. "Yeah what she said."

Well, this is totally not awkward.

AUTHOR”S NOTE #2:

Number one, yeah I dragged PB a bit in regards to Keiki’s name.. PB do your research challenge 🙄

Number two, okay so about the tattoo part, me and @bratzlahela were just talking about Bryce having Polynesian tattoos based on this post and I had to integrate it in my series lol

This is something I imagined 🤭

Number 3, Also I tried to change up the scene a bit with Jackie because tbh, Aisha is pretty fucking smart and she won’t be like “Boo-hoo. I don’t know anything” And about the part where she spoke about using the defibrillator numerous times in AIIMS, In India the medical education is a little more hands-on and focuses more on clinical practice rather than theory. Medical students from first year start doing ward duty and help around in the hospitals taking patient history, etc. Also, they have a mandatory year of internship without which you don’t get your license.

Number 4, So about that supply closet scene, how many of y’all thought would you get a make out sesh?

If yes, here is your clown wig 🤡

Number 5, AND CAN WE TALK ABOUT TODDLER KEIKI I SWEAR I WAS JUST GUSHING THE ENTIRE TIME 🥺

Lastly, IT PHYSICALLY HURT ME TO ROAST ETHAN LIKE IM SO SORRY SWEETIE 😭🥺🤧

This was a pretty long author’s note heheheh

Like, comment, reblog and share your thoughts ❤

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#anushka writes #oh bryce #bryce lahela #bryce x mc #open heart bryce #bryce lahela x mc #aisha khurrana #bryce x aisha #open heart #open heart mc #choices oh #choices #playchoices #choices stories you play #choices stories we play #pixelberry #a funny thing called fate #series

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ziracona · 2 years

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Hey--been a bit, but this is a big one! Some arc-finale stuff; please enjoy. [Fate/GO AU -- The Kid (pt: 1, … 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, ?)]

(--Spoilers Note: this segment on will include some character & plot spoilers for the original G/O campaign [Fuyuki -> Temple of Time], so if you are currently playing and want to avoid that, please protect your spoiler free experience!)

Ahead of me, the heroic spirit Antonio Salieri stands paused, looking over his shoulder for his master and the rest of the group.

I guess that technically speaking, this would be time to think, but with David of all people sinking his fingers into the back of my lab coat, I’m having a little bit of a rough time.

Why did this have to happen to me, I think desperately, It’s not fair.

I mean…I guess it isn’t all bad—some of this is very good! But. Please! Me ending up in the middle of it? That is not! Good! At all!

This was all hard enough before—I’m begging you! I can’t…I-I’m walking such a tightrope. Oh God, please. Please, I-I really need to not fuck this up, I think in a haze of almost dissociative panic, If I mess this up, it’s gonna be so bad. It’s gonna be…

C-Catas—Catastrophic, I think, is the most accurate word. …

“Something on your mind?” comes David’s voice from behind me.

Shit. “I-I mean, yes,” I answer. How could there not be.

“Mmm,” he replies, “So. How did you come to be on loan here, Dr. Archman?”

“Can you please not make me answer that? Right now anyway?” I plead. It’s not like I’m remotely worried he’s actually gonna hurt me—I mean, it’s David, but this is the worst possible timing for me. Why do you do this. Why do you cause me so many problems! Please! Just once! If you could just-! …

Well. I guess I’m not being entirely fair—he did just save me.

I sigh.

But you’re the reason I’m fucking here in the first place…

Oh well. It is what it is—like everything the fuck else!

“You seem like you have a lot on your mind,” comments David.

“I do,” I reply, not sure if the emotion I’m feeling is annoyance or stress—both probably, “Like, not being killed for starters—is, uh, pretty high up there.”

“Don’t worry—I’ll look out for you,” he says, waving the concern away, “It would hardly be honorable to kill a hostage.”

“You’re not exactly the thing I’m worried about,” I say, almost more to myself than him.

I risk a glance at David. I’ve been trying not to, because I’m hoping to God that he somehow, impossibly, doesn’t recognize me. …He’s got to though, right? After working that hard to both keep me alive and drag me along. …right? I don’t know for entirely certain though, so I’m trying to delude myself into thinking he might not. For comfort. Maybe he just thinks I remind him of someone he knew. Maybe he does emotionally, but hasn’t really recognized me yet. That could be possible. It could! It’s not like I exactly look the same. And I was a lot younger the last time he saw me. …yeah.

David returns the glance casually, tilting his head; both entirely nonthreatening and nonplussed. How are you always so absolutely unphased? I…guess he isn’t always, but, I’ve never seen someone who could stay more positive nine times out of ten. Oof, the tens though.

Quickly, I turn away again, not wanting to make him remembering me any easier, on that vague off-chance he doesn’t. I’m still not sure. He must think I’m familiar, at the least, or I don’t think he’d be taking me with them—he must be wondering about something—want some kind of answer or information. But maybe he hasn’t put it together yet. Please please please, God, throw me a bone—please let him not have clocked me the second he saw my face.

“There they are,” says Antonio Salieri, turning back towards the way we’re headed.

I glance over my shoulder and see the girl—Ritsuka—Billy the Kid, and the archer I don’t know the identity of for a split second, but then David’s pushing me forward and I just have to accept I’m focusing on moving.

We turn down a few halls, me giving directions as David puts on a show of being threatening, and it’s not too long before we hit a room with working security cameras. Well, at least he’s being decently convincing, I think tiredly.

Enough of that. I need to stay alert, and act too. There’s too much at stake.

Come on. There’s a lot riding on you.

I refocus, try to look more terrified than stressed, and take in every detail I can. Think. What do you know; you need to make it back to Chaldea, so start working on it. Okay. No guards, no people at all. That’s not so strange—I’m directing them down less-traveled hallways, and everyone not monitoring or part of security staff is probably being evacuated by now, if they’re still in the building at all. There’s very few automated defenses coming online though. The few that do, mostly are small enough threats Antonio Salieri will just bolt forward and slice them through on his sword before they get a shot out. Which means some of the security system is back online, but it’s not fully operational yet. They probably had to flush the system to beat the attack—good, I was hoping that would be the case. You never know until it’s go time thought. Only automated defenses are activating at present though, not the more complex manual or protocol-reactive ones, so it’s very early in reboot. This place is running basically just the high-mage-tech boobytraps right now. So that’s good. That’s very good for us. Less chance of being killed.

About eight hallways out, though I notice a camera move to track us. Billy the Kid sees it just as fast and shoots it down almost instantly, but that still means they’re making progress regaining control after the damage earlier. Okay. So. It only took about six minutes for them to repair the damage to the security system once the attack stopped. That means there are people manning security in person. That probably means Toujou is there in one of the upper security stations—or more likely, en-route here now. That might be worth saying, but, destroying the safe is their better option, and detouring to security I think is the worse call. Especially now security would see them coming.

“Security’s back online,” says David behind me.

“I noticed,” I reply, moving my mouth as little as possible just in case there’s a security camera somewhere here that no one noticed. Please don’t let me get executed for this. Please don’t let them think I’m doing this voluntarily. I’m so tired. It’s such a little thing, but I had a fresh cup of coffee right before they broke in, and it was going to be my first one all night, and I am emotionally missing that coffee. …I needed it…

“Mmm,” says David again, “So.”

I sigh internally. “So you all aren’t going to want to be in one place long, and you might wanna get scarce,” I say through my teeth.

“The good doctor thinks we should pick up the pace,” David says to the kid, turning his head to glance at her.

“Well, we can’t until Robin meets up—we’re almost where I told him to meet us, and he was a lot further away,” she replies, pointing to the upcoming elevator.

“Well, don’t wait on my account,” comes a voice I haven’t heard before, and Robin Hood becomes visible, leaning against the elevator door, straightens up and grins, then comes to meet his group.

“Robin!” call Ritsuka and Billy the Kid at the same time, both rushing to meet him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replies, catching a one-arm-thrown-over-your-shoulders kind of tugged-in hug from Billy the Kid who can’t balance much more with Mozart over his shoulder, then smiling at his master, “So I got good news and bad news.” He flicks his wrist and sends a crossbow bolt at the only camera in this hall, and continues without even looking up, “You were right—Ayase’s nowhere in the building. Toujou is, but he wasn’t in security when I went by there. –I left a little trap there I can detonate remotely whenever we need it—should buy us a few minutes with security all down again.”

“That’s great!” says Ritsuka.

“Other news; there’s another staff head on site we need to worry about—speaking of, I see we’re taking hostages?” he adds, fairly unsurprised, glancing at me appraisingly.

“Uh, kind of,” she replies, “He’s sort of helping us—or—he is, but we’re pretending not so he doesn’t get in trouble after,” she adds much more quietly.

Robin Hood raises an eyebrow, but gives a nod. Glances over at me again, taking in more detail this time. Oh please not this again. I get it, I do, but there is so little I can do to defend myself right now… Haha, this is the worst…

“Medical department head?” asks Robin Hood.

“Yeah, I’ll explain,” says Billy, tugging him with him the other direction with the arm still around his shoulders. Thank you.

“Okay, well, we should be able to pick up speed now,” says Ritsuka, turning back to me and David, “But uh, you’ll have to carry him.”

Damnit. That’s true.

David gives a nod and sends me an intimidating smile. I can’t figure this out. I keep being almost sure he remembers me, but then he’ll do this. I-I mean, if he knows, why hasn’t he brought it up? I can hardly believe he’s respecting my own wishes that much, especially when I showed up like this, and here…But…

Well…I guess. There’s some things he’s just never really been involved in. Maybe. Maybe that’s all this is…

“Wait wait!” calls Robin Hood, pulling free of Billy the Kid and turning back to Ritsuka, “I was saying—there’s another head of staff here—not one you mentioned, and not that doctor either. I’m guessing he was unlisted, because from what little I picked up on the staff computers in the security bay, he’s got a reputation. Some people might not do business if they knew he was here: Natsume Enchi. He’s basically a dealer—arms, artifacts, you name it—and now, heroic spirits. He's been working under the name Ryo Suda.”

Billy the Kid has a look on his face like he’s desperately trying to recall the name for a word he can only remember the meaning of.

I know him, or, I’ve met Suda—I had no idea they were the same person. Or that Suda was important. –I thought he was basically just a salesman. Didn’t realize he’d been involved enough to be the entire operation’s broker. They’re even hiding information on their own servers. Huh…

The others turn to look at me. Oh, right.

“I-I didn’t know that!” I try, and hope that it being true helps me be more believable, “I have met him under the name Suda, but I didn’t know they were the same person, or that he wasn’t just a salesman—they’re probably keeping it on the downlow for the reason he mentioned—my own organization would have thought twice about sending me to see this place if they knew he was a partner.”

“What’s he look like?” asks Ritsuka.

“Uhm. About my height? Give or take an inch. Short black hair, not a great haircut. Black suit,” I shrug, “like half the people here. The only notable thing about his appearance is that he’s great at being noticed if he wants to be, and at not being noticed if he doesn’t. I-If I see him, I’ll let you know. It’s entirely possible you’ve already taken him out—he’s in R&D stations pretty frequently, and you’ve been all over the floors handling that.”

There’s definitely varied levels of feeling towards me still, and that statement, but the girl seems to accept my answer as genuine, at least.

“Okay then, we shouldn’t waste time,” says Ritsuka.

“Alright,” announces David, sweeping me up in his arms without even looking at me. M-maybe this really is just him being him. “Let’s go!”

“That doesn’t look very kidnap-ey,” comments Emiya.

“Ah,” says David sadly. Ah, I think sadly, and he slings me up over his shoulder like a sheep instead.

Well this is just great.

Actually, it’s very believable.

“Here,” says David, wiping some blood from off his staff and smearing it on my forehead, “You can play dazed and injured if you want.”

Well. I guess that’s in the best interest of my survival. “Thanks,” I say unhappily, and he smiles at me.

I guess I’m playing dazed and injured. I sigh, and let myself go limp.

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

I don’t really remember where I am. Where I was…

Home?

There’s something in my head telling me that can’t be right, but, I don’t remember what it is… And. Where else am I likely to be?

I was. …I was… I was…

I feel a note of desperation this time. It was bad, wasn’t it? I was in trouble. I—

No, I’m—I was dying. I am dying?

But. Someone said I wasn’t going to die, and I thought they were right. Who? C-Constanze? It must be her, right? Who else…M-Maria? Nannerl?

No. No, no. Salieri. It was Antonio—it—it was him, wasn’t it? I…

Salieri? Can it…have…I…I think it could. I try to dredge up memories. My home. Bedrest. Yes, he was there. They were all—wait no. No, that’s wrong. I’m…

That was a long time ago wasn’t it? Did I die after all? I feel my heart sink. God, I think I did. So what am I…? … B-But. I can see him. I can feel the same weakness killing me, distorting me, everything horrible, and I can feel…

I open my eyes.

Hm. I appear to be moving. Hanging over someone’s shoulders, and looking down at the floor. Wait. This isn’t Salieri.

What the hell? I think, glancing over the little I can hanging limp, and see some guy I’ve never even looked at before. He notices me immediately, and seems happy about it, so that’s good. At least.

“Hey! Mozart’s awake!” he calls.

Oh. He knows who I am, and there are other people here. Salieri?

I look for him, and see him almost immediately. Up ahead of me, there’s two spirits I don’t know, one also carrying a passenger—probably similar to how I’m being lugged around. And then, in front of them.

“Salieri,” I call to him weakly, grinning.

He’s already stopped to look behind himself at me, and I cannot begin to describe the look on his face. It’s like he’s being pulled in six directions by six emotions and they’re all winning. Which is funny.

“Hi!”

Another person I haven’t seen before. The guy holding me comes to a stop, and a young red-haired girl runs up from behind me and stops just in front of me. She’s kind of upside-down, how I’m hanging, and I probably could sit up, but I don’t really care enough to, and I definitely don’t want to walk if I don’t have to right now.

“Hello,” I reply.

“I’m Fujimaru Ritsuka.” The kid offers me her hand. “I met Salieri just before he found you—I’m here with the rest of these guys to break everybody out.”

“Out?” I echo. Honestly I have no idea what’s going on. Like, even a little. –Wait, what others?

“Yeah,” says the guy holding me. He clocks the absolute bafflement on my face, thank God, and keeps going. “This is a mage group’s place—they did what they did to you to several of us—recreating deaths to keep us weak, but manifested. As some kinda power source. Hopin’ to sell us.”

They WHAT? “Okay,” I say, still working on processing that. What kind of batshit piece of work is it gonna be next week and the week after with mages. Good God.

“So, you were unconscious before,” continues the girl, “But Salieri was able to keep you solid,”

He was? I glance at him and he meets my gaze with a kind of overwhelmed, hunted look, and looks away. ?

“If you want to, I can anchor you,” offers the girl, “I’m anchoring everybody else.”

I stare at her.

“All…” I try to count.

“—All six,” replies someone behind me I can’t see. How many of you ARE there?

“Yes,” says Ritsuka, “I’ve got really weird magic circuits. I’m not much good at spells yet, but I have a bunch of mana! So don’t worry—I can anchor you too easy, if you want.”

Well. Okay. Let me think. So, I’m in a mage workshop of some kind, they’re killing us for oil, I can disappear and go back to the Throne, or I can contract to this kid. I look at Salieri again. He’s not giving me any sign any of this is a lie, so I guess the kid is on the level, and it’s fine then.

“Alright,” I say, shakily lifting a hand. It’s not till the hand is up I see that it isn’t swollen or covered in a rash. I blink in surprise.

“David healed you,” explains Ritsuka, indicating the man in front of me holding a limp body over his shoulder. He turns and gives me a wink.

David?

“Oh, sorry!” says the guy holding me, “Uh, I’m Billy the Kid. You know Salieri. That’s Robin Hood,” Robin Hood! “King David-“ KING David?! !!! “-the guy with him is someone from the staff here that we’re uh, borrowing directions from.” He turns so I can see the people behind us. “And that one is Emiya,” no idea who that is, “and with him is a Lancer—I don’t know his name yet—he’s also not doing so hot.”

“Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart,” I introduce myself, amused by the ridiculousness of reaching down to shake the hand of the guy holding me like a sack of potatoes, “But, I think you all knew that.” Holy Shit though, even with two unknowns, what a party! And I would have been excited just to be summoned to the same time and place as Salieri for the first time in 200 years.

“So, uhm,” says the girl hesitantly, holding out her hand.

“Right.” I expend more effort than it should cost to move a hand, and, annoyed by my weak body, still manage to clasp my fingers around hers. I am…utterly lost here but also amazed there’s this wild all-star group getting dragged around by some sixteen-year-old, and also that I actually did wake up again, like Salieri said—not surprised—I believed Salieri—but, amazed none the less.

“What’s your class?” asks the girl.

“Oh—Caster,” I reply.

“My soul becomes your will,” says the girl with fervor, clasping my hand tight, “Your spirit becomes my destiny. If you hear my call and answer, bind to me, Caster.”

“I shall,” I reply with a weak smile, and I feel a surge of mana from her and the new connection bind to us both as if it was a powerful gust of air slamming into me. She wasn’t kidding. It’s not the best mana flow I’ve ever felt, but it is a solid connection. And for seven of us?! That must be some kind of record. “Have you realized you’ve got more servants than a Holy Grail War?” I ask her.

“I do?” she asks, “Oh my gosh, I do.”

I nod.

“Wait, we’re not in one too, right?” I check.

Emiya shakes his head at me.

Billy grins at Ritsuka, “How’s it feel?”

“Weird,” she replies, zoned out, “Good—great! I think! ---O-oh, but you’re not my servant,” she hurries to add, refocusing on me, “I’m just anchoring you—I’m not here to boss you around. I think it’s gross. Please just call me Ritsuka.”

“Oh? Well that’s very decent of you,” I say, “Are you sure you’re a mage at all?”

“Not really,” she admits, smiling, “But I hope I get better at magic at least.”

“I know we had to get him anchored, but we really shouldn’t stay still too long,” says the man introduced to me as Robin Hood. He looks from Ritsuka to me. “You okay to walk?”

Damn. I could, but I don’t want to… I’m still so tired. Ugh, this isn’t very comfortable though, and my hair’s gotten everywhere. It’s stuck on his vest buttons and this is a nightmare.

“Yes,” I decide, for the sake of my hair.

“Here you go,” says Billy, gently slinging my down, and then helping me untangle myself while apologizing for his buttons.

“Alright, good. Glad to see you up,” offers Robin like some it’s not personal we really just do need to move kind of apologetic after-thought.

I smile and nod.

Honestly, it feels good to be on my feet. As much as I don’t want to walk, I hate feeling bedridden. And uh, too many memories are far too fresh. I am trying hard to remember absolutely nothing about what I’ve just been through though and am hopeful about my chances! Especially if we’re about to run and fight. Great for ignoring your problems, magic battles.

“Come on,” calls Robin, starting off.

“Let me know if the pace is too much or anything!” calls Ritsuka worriedly to me, and then, “Sorry I didn’t have time to introduce myself much—I’m really glad you’re okay.”

“Of course! Time constraints,” I say, picking up speed to match them. It’s funny how sincere she seems about that. I have to wonder how some human child got all caught up in this. I guess I’ll ask somebody when I can find a chance. ….GOD, keeping up is way harder than I thought it would be! And this is out the gate! I am not really worried about vanishing or anything, but it’s been ages since I was…tried over physical exertion as a spirit. That doesn’t happen to us in the way it does living humans—exhaustion, sure, but aching muscles??? What is that?! Disgusting! …Eugh, I guess I’m not completely healed…

That makes sense to me. I have very high magic sensitivity as a Caster, and there is still some amount of foreign material in my body. Which really makes me sick to think about! I don’t want to know what it is, but I can feel it in me, alive, like little magic parasites. I want to die, thinking about that. But, I can tell it is slowly but surely evaporating, so I stomach it. I can outlast that.

Ahead of me, Salieri and Robin move down a hall, and then Salieri slashes open the entry to an elevator shaft and hops in. I’d meant to catch up to him, but my body’s weakness is distracting, and he’s going really fast way up at the front.

Maybe he’s avoiding me... I really hope this won’t be a big deal, but. I know sort of what the Throne…did to him. Maybe he’s embarrassed to be around me like this.

It’s not like I’m confused about what happened—I was there!

Oh, fuck.

Billy the Kid is keeping pace with me—I think to keep an eye out in case I collapse, which is nice, so I glance at him and say, “When you said a lot of us were in death traps, like me, does that mean everyone here? You, him,” I gesture ahead to David, “Salieri?”

“All of us but Emiya—he was just summoned,” confirms Billy.

Oh…

Shit. I make it to the elevator shaft and hop down too, digging my fingers into a support beam as we go to keep from just free-falling. Below me, I see Salieri and Robin Hood opening another door. So you were in one too.

“Hey!” I call up to Salieri, but he doesn’t seem to hear me, and keeps goin, so I give up and just jump down and then try to run faster. It’s killing me—I feel like I’ve been de-spirited and given shitty human lungs again—but I push through, closing the gap. “Salieri!”

This time he glances over his shoulder, but then he turns away and forges on.

“Hey, Salieri!” I call to him again, speeding up as much as I physically can. No response.

He just goes faster and doesn’t even look back this time until I’m right behind him, then he whips around. “Stop! Stay away from me!”

“What?” I say, faltering in surprise.

“Don’t come near me,” he calls, wildly distressed, backing away with his arms between us like a readied defense.

“Don’t come near you?” I echo.

“Please.”

“Why not?” I say, moving to close the distance. He sees that and turns and runs again.

“I don’t want to kill you!” calls Salieri over his shoulder.

“Then don’t,” I say, speeding up too.

“God’s sake—you’re gonna go the wrong direction,” calls Robin to Salieri, dashing forward to catch him by the shoulder and tug him right instead of the left he was about to take at an intersection.

I forgot about the others.

I hear Ritsuka’s voice say, “Is this gonna be a problem?” to someone behind me. Hm. Hopefully not.

“This isn’t a game!” calls back Salieri, giving up on running and turning to face me again, but continuing to back up and drawing his sword this time. Like he might have to fight me off!

“What is this?” I say, stopping too, crossing my arms and gesturing, “An hour ago you show up like a knight to rescue me from my worst nightmare, and you’re all kindness and heroics, and nice to me, and thoughtful, and now suddenly it’s ‘Amadeus don’t come near me!’ ‘Amadeus don’t touch me!’ ‘Amadeus stay away!’”

“That—” he falters for a second, lowering his arm.

“You don’t want to hurt me? I’m not worried!” I say, taking a step.

“Well I am!” he says desperately, taking a step back to keep his distance.

I keep walking, and he levels his sword.

“What are you going to do, stab me?” I ask.

The second I step into reach he takes a swipe at me and I yelp and hop back. “Hey!”

“I’m sorry!” he says frantically, “It’s instinctive! That’s why I asked you to stay away from me! –You know what I am, don’t you?”

Salieri looks so very desperate, and broken. I haven’t been looking at that. …I haven’t been taking this seriously, I guess. I feel like I shouldn’t. I guess that’s odd, but, if I take it seriously, then everyone he knows would be. I would like to believe it won’t be a problem. Someone should. Even if that’s annoying. It's…how I should be.

“Yes,” I say casually, “You’re Salieri. –Come on, you weren’t aiming for my heart. Or swinging fast. You’re just trying to scare me; you’re more worried than you need to be.”

He looks away, like my words were a physical blow. He’s thinking about it though. Wow, you actually think I might know more than you. I honestly have no idea, but I refuse to consider the alternative. I mean, it is Salieri, whatever else! And good then, I was right! I’m doing what I should be! …I think. Well, I’m doing it anyway! Do what you believe in, isn’t it? That’s all any of us can do.

“That time,” he says quietly, pleading almost, looking back at me, “But I won’t always be the part of me quickest to respond. I’m really doing my best, right now, but it’s a lot harder not to try to kill you if you’re close to me, or I’m looking at you. For both of us, and for their sakes,” he gestures to the rest of the group stopped around us, “Please. At least for now, stay back.”

I consider that with no intention of agreeing.

“Please?” says Ritsuka, catching up to me and tugging on my cloak. I glance down at her. “I know it’s a lot, and we should all talk about it more, but he’s really worried, and we need to work together well right now.”

Right. Dire situation and all. And I don’t want to end up back where I was, especially with maybe no Salieri to save me this time. I grimace, then sigh, and nod. She’s such a sincere kid. “Mmm, alright. If you insist.” I look back at Salieri. “I’ll let you keep a buffer right now, if you need it so badly, and they need us, but on one condition! At least let me thank you first.”

“Thank?” he echoes, confused, but relaxing a little, “…Alright.”

I start to walk over, and my old friend immediately gets so tense he’s almost as rigid wall post.

“Wait—can’t you just say it from there?”

“No-no,” I say, not slowing down. He freezes up when I enter his personal space, and I take advantage of that to slap a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you!” He flinches on contact, but not like it hurt—in the way of someone expecting the pressing of a button to set off a distant explosion. Then he looks at the hand, and while he’s distracted I go up on my toes and kiss him on the forehead. “Mwah—you saved me, Liebling <3 –I knew I could count on you.”

He pulls back as far as he can with my hand on his shoulder, a thousand-yard panic-stare in his eyes, looking at me like he can’t believe I’ve done this, and I just grin at him.

“Alright!” I declare, letting go and backing up, “You can have your buffer now.”

As I give him room, he turns away and I hear him say something quiet and sad I can’t make out all of about mocking him or something.

“What?” I say, but he turns away and starts up again.

Salieri? ‘Mocking’ –why-? I-

“We better go,” says Billy the Kid, bumping me with an elbow.

“Right,” I agree, shaking myself and following.

I consider a moment, my best course of action, but since walking is all I or our master have to do right now, it can’t hurt I think, to try her.

“Ritsuka?” I say to her mentally, “Can I ask—about Salieri?”

“Hm?” she replies in my head, “What about him?”

“Where did you find him?” I ask, “In a trap?”

“Yes,” she says, immediately sounding sad.

“What was his like?”

There’s a moment of silence, then she answers, “A mental hospital. He was strapped to a bed like in movies, if they’re afraid someone will run away. He kept…forgetting things, like that he’d met me before, and his throat was hurt. He was sad, and he knew he was dying, and he didn’t remember he was a spirit at all…”

…

I think over everything I know. About what happened to him after me…

“Was he lonely?”

“Yes,” she says, “Very.”

I don’t know why that’s so important.

…

Yes, I do. We both died poorly, but he was killed, and I was not alone. Because…

“Ah, thank you,” I reply cheerily.

“Heads up,” calls Robin Hood, “We’re getting close.”

“To where exactly?” I ask Ritsuka.

“OH! Sorry—we’re going to blow up a bunch of their magical items in a safe, so they lose money and power and we have time to really make sure they quit doing this. Their leader isn’t here tonight—or, one of them isn’t.”

Ah. “Got it, thanks!” I reply.

“Through the hall, there’s a room, sixth door on the right. There’s a large generator that moves with the right wall code to reveal an elevator going down beneath it,” informs King David to I assume all of us, in my head, “We’re better off just breaking it and running, I think, than trying to work our way in carefully.”

“Stay close to her,” Emiya warns Billy out loud, “We’re probably going to hit the most resistance we have.” Billy nods.

I follow Robin and Salieri at a bit of a distance as they weave past rooms towards the intended destination. It’s oddly quiet. We’re near the ground floor. Hm.

I mean, I suppose it’s not quiet—it’s loud. There are alarms and shouts I can hear, but they’re all at a distance, not here. They know they’re under attack. Shouldn’t there be forces here? I suppose they’re scattered, though, and until a moment ago we were heading up, so, it’s not odd there’s almost no one here—just that there’s no one at all. I’d think during an evacuation, you’d have guards to point people in the right way in a non-trampling manner.

It's a shame I haven’t had time to prepare anything, but I can at least listen. I do so, just in case. Not that the others aren’t all alert too—and honestly, Archers are better equipped for that. Wait. Are they ALL Archers?!

What kind of ridiculous odds!

I do the math again. Not all—they said Lancer for the blue man, and Salieri isn’t. Still. That’s a lot of bowmen.

Ahead, Salieri slices a titanium door to ribbons with two slices from that sword with is…kinda hot, and I hear Robin firing off arrows and tiny explosions, and by the time I’m in the doorway behind them, two little magic turrets are destroyed, as well as several security cameras, and they’re already halfway to smashing through the generator to the elevator beneath.

“Step back,” calls Robin to Salieri and me, and David just ahead of me, and we all do so. He tosses what must be acid of some sort on the metal cover in the floor, and waits a second as it vanishes to reveal an empty elevator shaft beneath it. I guess the lift is at the bottom. Not that we haven’t just probably damaged the pullies irreparably anyway.

“Well, down we go,” he says, glancing up at the others for confirmation.

“Alright,” agrees King David happily.

“Anything?” Robin asks Emiya.

“Behind us? Not that I can sense.”

“Let’s be quick, then,” says Robin.

He hops into the hole in the floor, and Salieri steps in after him. David does the same, and I leap with him, snagging a cable to slow my fall and descending about level with David, who is using the crook of his staff to snag a cable and keeping his feet braced against it as well, free hand keeping a good grip on his human passenger, who is not unconscious now, but looking at the floor we are rushing to meet with a grimace and some understandable fear. It is a long drop below us. This place… I expected a vault when she said ‘vault’, but it’s like a cave—a chasm. Outside of the cables for the elevator, and a few others left from construction, there is nothing man-made until the roof of the underground chamber below us, built into the cave floor itself, and the structure there is clearly huge just based on what I can see from above—like a football stadium. God knows how much bigger it get below ground. The roof built into the surrounding rock is only one small part of the cave floor below though—the area itself is massive, hell, just the distance from floor to ceiling in the cavern is overwhelming. It’s a strange, liminal space. It makes me uneasy somehow, even though I find the quiet peaceful.

Above us, I hear a yelp and glance up to see Billy the Kid sliding down with a gloved hand around a cable and our master in his other arm. She’s clinging to him for dear life, terrified of the fall below in a very human way, but after a few seconds of the near free-fall, she pries her eyes open and laughs a second, excited I think. Glances at Billy, who returns the smile with a grin, and then clings tighter to him, legs locked around his waist, but eyes still on the destination below.

Past them, Emiya and the unconscious spirit he’s carrying appear too. That’s all of us, now. Good. Somehow, I almost had a feeling something would happen, and the light square above us would vanish with us still two short.

Hmm. Being sick left you paranoid again, my friend. …Perhaps it did. …

Robin Hood and Salieri hit the bottom together, leaping free of the docking port for the elevator itself just shy of landing, and King David does the same, me just behind him, landing easily. Billy leaps a little early to get extra room, and lands by Robin, and Emiya lands nearest the elevator itself and glances down.

“There’s no easy way in,” he observes. He kicks the roof beneath our feet, and it shimmers. “You weren’t kidding,” he tells the human over David’s shoulder, “This is a hell of a bounded field.”

“The elevator docks in the observation room, just outside the safe. You should be able to break the top of the room with enough force, but the elevator shaft will be easier—It’s just outside the secondary field,” says the human so quietly I can barely hear him, like he’s afraid of being heard.

Emiya summons a bow and a longsword from the ether and draws on the elevator’s roof, and the rest of us instinctively take about four steps back. The shot sets off an explosion that still singes my hair, but it does the trick.

Emiya glances at us, gets a nod from Ritsuka, and hops in. This is a one-person sized elevator, and a one-person sized hole, so we wait to hear him knock the door off. He does, and we hear gunfire.

“SHIT,” calls Robin, running for the hole and tossing his hood up, vanishing mid-stride.

Salieri darts after him, the rest of us on his heels, but before he leaps in, we hear Emiya in our heads. “It’s fine! Automated defenses. I took them out. Give us a second to check for more.”

There’s silence, us all waiting up top. Ritsuka gives the jagged opening a worried look.

She’s got a bad feeling too, I observe. That’s worth noting. One of us is paranoia. The cheerful young girl and me, now that’s not a great sign. And I think I see apprehension on Billy the Kid’s face too. So we’ve all three got a bad feeling about this.

On the plus side, I’m right beside Salieri waiting for the all-clear, and he hasn’t noticed yet. It’s nice. I glance over at him and study the ways he looks different. His hair is white in a way that makes it seem drained of color, his eyes red and dull, tired, but his skin is the same and he looks like my Salieri to me even so. He’s got that same ridiculous focus, when something really has his attention, that he’s always had. And there’s a softness too, about the lines by his eyes. Some man in grey, I think, happy, You couldn’t even look meaner. Just very weary.

He registers me finally and glances at me, but doesn’t really react. For just a second it feels like a long time ago.

“Alright,” comes Emiya’s voice in my head.

Ah. I was going to say ‘I missed you,’ but it seems I’ve run out of time.

They all move. Billy hops in with Ritsuka, David and his passenger behind them, then Salieri goes, then it should be me. Only, I hesitate again, glancing out at the cave around us. It’s so quiet. There’s something about that. Trying to be careful, I reach out with my senses. But…I don’t see anything. I check again, just in case, but the air is silent. No mana, no movement, no enemies. Huh.

Unsettled still, I go then, because there’s not much other choice, and walk to join the rest, but I am left again with this terrible sense that I’ve just missed a chance I will not be returned.

Trying to shake the feeling, I do my best to focus on the layout in here. On the inside of the room, past the tiny elevator (now very broken), there is a little glass observation room that runs along the side of the vault in front of us. I was, if anything, underestimating the size of the vault itself. It’s significantly lower than the observation room, and a sight like I’ve never quite seen before. One I won’t soon forget. The various artifacts and objects inside it are stored in glass cases and metal containers of various sizes all numbered and organized in rows and sections, like a giant, sprawling file room with the contents of an incredible museum. Fascinating. Even from here, as weak as I am, I can sense the incredible power stored in there.

I hear Billy the Kid whistle low under his breath. “Now that? Is a lot of magic.”

And how.

“Can we trigger an explosion to destroy all of it?” asks Ritsuka me.

Ah right—I’m the only Caster. I’m the one with the best answer. “Oh yes,” I reply, because it is almost scarily true, “But are we absolutely sure we won’t all be vaporized the second we do and most of that city up there with us? As Billy said, that is…a lot of magic.”

King David glances at his passenger and sets him down so he can more properly threaten him with his staff. “Well?”

“Y-Yes, I’m sure—the bounded field walls will hold,” says the doctor, incredibly anxious, but not, I think, about his answer. Probably about being held hostage, which, well, it makes sense. “It’s what they were designed for.”

“Won’t whoever sets off the explosion get vaporized though?” asks Ritsuka nervously, “Don’t they need to be inside? –or, can you run fast enough to get back? Or shoot something” she adds with relief as it occurs to her.

Oh, no one has thought that all the way through. I can see it on their faces. Guess I better think it through myself.

“So long as we can find a solid trigger in there, a bomb or remote spell of some type should be sufficient,” I tell her reassuringly. With the sheer number of artifacts here, I’m sure something will suffice to start out chain-reaction explosion of adequate magnitude. “It might just take a bit of finding. How much of a time crunch are we on?”

“Pretty tight,” says Robin with a grimace, glancing back, “I don’t like the way this has felt already. So in the interest of speed, I’m thinking we should all go in, split up, look for a good trigger, and leave a guard up topside to give us a heads up when we’re out of time.”

“Can we get in?” David asks his prisoner.

“Uhm, well, the door’s got a complex lock, but it sh-“ the doctor starts.

A sound above me like a stone has been dropped on the roof.

That’s the only thing I have the time to understand before a pulse hits the room. A wave of mana activated.

I can see it, rippling across the observation deck. That’s impossible. There’s no way I could miss that—I’m a Caster—that’s physically impossible—at the very least I should have been able to-

Oh. You did sense it, I tell myself too late as it hits us.

The pain is crippling. It’s an anti-spirit field, but we’re already inside it. It’s like being a vampire and having a church appear around you. You can’t take a step on the hallowed ground, you’re on the hallowed ground, burning, burning, tearing you apart, but there’s so many steps between you and the exit and you can’t move on hallowed ground, remember? So there’s no way you’ll make the door. None of us could even make the elevator. The field is trying to expel us—to force us out—but the energy to fling us outside itself would take more power than keeping us pinned here pressed against more of its own energy, like opposing magnets. I can’t be here; I can’t be here! I can feel it ripping at the ether of my body, pulling my cells apart, cracking at my core and trying to force me to dispel. I feel like my body is being pulled apart around me. No!

Agony overcomes the little strength I’ve regained, and I collapse, barely propping myself on an arm. Damn it! My body is unraveling. I can’t move; I can’t scream. Ritsuka!

Of course! Of course! Shit—is it too—?

I look over. She was near the back, with Billy. He’s collapsed too, but he managed to roll onto his back. The ceiling. You heard it too. Gripping his gun. I hope he still has the strength to fire it. The more modern a hero, the less resistance to magic. As bad as this is for me, it must be at least as excruciating for him. He’s convulsing—we probably all are. I try and see past him and myself if anyone is still up; I forget, Archers are knight class! Maybe that’ll be enough, with the magic resistance.

Shit. Robin’s on his knee, struggling to get up, and Emiya’s the same, but he’s lost his grip on the lancer. Stay out. It’s for your best right now. The man’s rolled to the side near him, eyes still shut. Wait? Did you drop him, or try to get him out of range? I don’t think anywhere in the room can have been far enough.

How did this happen! I think desperately again. I looked! I looked for this; I know I did! Three times! Three! HOW can they have blocked me? I don’t understand! Oh God, please, someone!

-Come on! In the far back, I can barely see David and his prisoner Uh-oh. That might suddenly be very bad for us. I can’t make out how he’s doing though. Shit. Shit—and I can barely see Salieri at all, but he’s on the ground completely, like me.

We’re in real trouble.

They come. Ritsuka doesn’t completely get what’s happened. I try to call to her, or make it up to my arms and crawl, but I’m still so close to vanishing that I can barely remain corporeal. I’m probably only going to have the strength to do one thing, if I’m lucky. I better make it count.

Please.

The ceiling explodes. It’s intentional, controlled—an external burst, mana in it. They must mean to come through all at once along the room, en masse. But—Shit, shit! It’ll hit her!

I struggle with all my might to just move, just anything! I make it up to my second arm, body screaming and shaking, and Emiya bursts forward in a sudden rush of energy, and makes it to her as the ceiling goes. I see her go down beneath his body, shielded, and then I can’t see anything past the smoke and debris. They rain down on all of us. I cover my head with both arms and take my chances with a piece of debris hitting me just wrong and going through my heart. Odds are low, and I when it ends, I’m safe—alive, anyway. If I look back, I can see I’ve got shrapnel almost severing one of my legs, and pieces of burning hot metal lodged in my back, but I can’t even feel it over the way the bounded field is ripping apart my body. I feel nothing over that pain.

Salieri—the kid. I look for them both. There’s too big a chunk of ceiling down—I can’t see Salieri at all. I see a pile of metal sheets over by Billy and what I can see of Emiya and Ritsuka. There’s a thick chunk of metal where Billy’s chest used to be, just barely cutting into his side—he must have somehow mustered the strength to roll a little. I can tell he’s still awake, head bleeding and one eye shut from the blood running down his face into it, but his eyes are focused. Emiya?

They’re there, then. Hopping down from above. I expected them to repel, but no. They’re on foot. Where? That’s impossible—if they didn’t come from above, they were already stationed in the cave, but how! How did they get here before us then? Unless-

I think of the doctor, and feel a chill run down my spine.

They knew we were coming.

About eighty people, God, so many of them. All wearing thick black armor and helmets, carrying guns and other weapons, not all of which I even recognize. They land around us, calling orders to each other. Shit.

Focus. Focus. Find the source of the field. You might not last much longer, and you’re probably the only one who can do this! Even if. If you can’t move. If you can stop it. If you can just find it. W-We’re all mentally linked. It just takes one of us with the strength to fire off a shot to end this.

I try. I focus. My instincts and my heart say, ‘keep your eyes open, watch your master, keep her alive, get back up,’ but I know it’s wrong. I force them shut and a place my palm against the floor and flood the little mana I have left into the building, searching. It sends reverberations of magic like an electric shock up my arm, and the whole limb goes numb. I can’t even move my fingers now, and the ripple of tearing sensations it racks my body with are so agonizing I almost lose focus, but I keep going. Even through the pain and the numbness, I can faintly sense my magic, moving. I hear the echoes, the reverb, the tones as it slides and clicks and hums through everything within its range, searching. Please.

Above me, I hear footsteps.

“Well, you got pretty far,” comes a man’s voice, dripping with patronization and smug self-assurance, “But that’s it.”

“Any of you take another step and I’ll kill you!”

Billy’s voice. I’m amazed he can still speak.

This is not going well.

“Lower your gun, or we’ll open fire on your master from here,” comes the man’s reply, unphased, “Do you want her to live?”

Almost. I’m so close. Come on.

There. I see them, the activated sigils creating the barrier around us.

No.

That’s impossible! It’s infuriating! How can they have had time to do this?! Let alone hid it from us so well! It’s not the intricacy—it’s the sheer area. There are sigils all over the cave outside. So many! Impossibly many for such a short time! They’re making up for a crap speed project with sheer numbers, and shit—shit, that’s the worst case scenario for us! Maybe, if one of the archers could make the roof, they could destroy them. But. The sigils are just complex enough, that the magical energy needed to break them all… There’s no way. The strength to move and to destroy them, that many, and fast enough? No. Not unless someone is a lot better physically right now than I think.

Well, we have to try!

Come on. Come on. Focus. Clarity. “Forty-six sigils,” I tell everyone, mentally transmitting the best locations I have on the marks above us in the cave. Even just communicating like that, it’s so mentally taxing I almost black out.

Sh-shit… That’s it, that’s all I have. I still can’t feel my right arm at all, and it’s all I can do to stay awake. It’s so much pain. I just want it to end. Why do I always have to die this way? Can’t I just get shot, or stabbed, or beheaded? Something faster. Something quick. It’s always long and agonizing and it kills my whole body, always, and I’m barely even a fighter! My skills are better put to almost any use! And still!

It's so unfair. I’m so tired of this.

I thought… I think blearily, opening my eyes and trying to remember how to understand sound, …I thought to die by the…the sword…so much. you were…supposed to have…lived. by it…

“Try, and I’ll kill everyone in the room before you can pull a trigger,” comes Emiya’s voice. I try to focus on him. The first burst hit us pretty badly, but some of the archers are pulling through. The upside of a hasty bounded field, no matter who makes it, is the strength will be lower. If we weren’t mostly all hanging on by a thread before it hit, this whole thing would be a very different story.

My right arm is spasming uncontrollably. I couldn’t feel it—still can’t, but I can see it now. Doesn’t…matter… I tell myself weakly, and I force myself to look past it to Emiya, try to bring his form into focus while fighting through the feeling like my body is going to explode if I force it to stay corporeal another second. He’s still bent over Ritsuka, and there are chunks of metal sticking into his back and shoulders, but he doesn’t even look phased. R-Right. He had a—a proper summoning.

The man standing above him with a gun leveled looks surprised. I can only see his chin, with that helmet on, but I can tell from the line of his mouth.

“Are you sure like this you’ll be fast enough?” says the man with a slow smile, recovering his surety, “You’re all weak.”

“A weak heroic spirit is more than enough,” says Emiya. I can see him sweating, muscles trembling from the force of staying up against the bounded field. But I don’t feel like he thinks he’s bluffing.

I hear Ritsuka breathing hard, see her try and drag herself to a sitting positing beneath Emiya. See the terror on her face as she looks at what we’re surrounded by.

Not moving, and not sounding worried either, the man talking to Emiya ignores her and calls behind himself. “We got Archman secured?”

“He’s intact,” calls back one of the soldiers. I turn my head and see the doctor we were taking with us being helped up by one of the guards. Where’s David?

“Good work, Suda. You were right,” says the man, glancing to his right. Another man steps up beside him. This one has a bruise on his chin.

“You,” I hear Billy say in something between disbelief and betrayal. It’s reactive, almost a whisper, but the man with the bruise still hears him. I see him grin.

“Should have killed me,” agrees the man with a smug smile.

In response, Billy whips his colt around and aims between the man’s eyes.

“Do it. Try. They’ll make your master pay for it,” says Suda.

That’s. The other name Robin said. The one…people wouldn’t…work with.

“Yes,” agrees the man who spoke first, and he says something else but I don’t hear it. A surge of mana hits us again, a wave from the field, and I have nothing I can do to lessen the effect. Mentally, I feel like curling up will help, but I don’t even have the energy for that. I just have to lay there and take it. My right arm is still dead to me. This is really bad, I think, panicking a little for the first time, and trying to not. It’s all felt so surreal. It’s hitting me that this is happening to me. I’m not in the past like my brain has been telling me for days. I’ve caught up to the present, and it is not going well. I hear Salieri scream in pain somewhere to my left. Hear other voices. See Billy thrash for a second as the wave hits him after it hits me. See his arm lower. Of course. They set it up on a timer. It doesn’t have the energy to keep us suppressed at that intensity, but even in short bursts, as damaged and low on mana as we are, we can’t make it past regular charges. Smart. I hate it.

“Stop! Please!” begs our master, trying to get between Billy and Emiya as they both struggle against the field ripping at their cores. How does she not get that we aren’t what they’re here to kill?

Or maybe she does know, and I just didn’t until this moment what she was like in character.

Thinking that, I get a proper look at her as the wave fades, and I am paralyzed by the fear in her eyes. It hasn’t really hit me before that my master here is a child, and she might be about to die. I can’t let her, not like this. As much as I don’t want to die this way again, I can’t imagine what this teenage human is feeling.

“If you kill her,” says Billy, voice somehow weak and viciously fierce at the same time, “I will kill every last person in this facility. Half of us are Archers. We ain’t gonna go the second you pull a trigger.”

“True,” says the first man to speak—the one who seems to be in charge, “But you’re Archers on your last leg. Your independent action won’t save you for long on a good day, and I can’t really say I’m feeling very threatened now.”

“I’m not,” comes Emiya’s voice. He’s breathing hard, but still up on a knee, and when he glares at the man above them, I can feel his intent to kill. “On my last leg. And I will kill everyone you’ve ever spoken to. Over the next two days.”

“Wait-wait—can’t we just talk, please,” tries Ritsuka again. She’s bleeding a little, a cut on her cheek, and a dark bruise there, where she hit the floor.

“Stall.”

David. I hear him in my head—pray the others do too. I have to wonder why the doctor hasn’t sold us out and said he’s missing. I thought I couldn’t see David though, which is good for us, and I’m beyond desperate for any plan. Stall. Stall, okay. Talk?

Not much else most of us can do.

“Toujou?” Robin Hood. I try and find him. He’s doing better than Billy and me, still up on a knee too, muscles trembling under the pressure of the field. “I presume?”

The man who seems to be in charge turns his head to glance at him. “Go ahead and kill that one.”

“No!” shouts Ritsuka. Twelve men nearest Robin raise their guns, and I see Toujou smile, no hesitation, and then he sees the two unused command seals on Ritsuka’s hand and hesitates—I can almost feel his line of thought. She’s a kid, she’s inexperienced, emotional, far from a tactical, coldhearted mage. What happens next almost undeniably will be terrible for her, but it could be bad for everyone, him included. Impulsive and irrational gets people killed in unexpected ways. And he raises a hand and the gunmen pause.

She looks at him, desperate, hopeful, thinking maybe there’s some humanity there she can appeal to after all. Poor kid. She has no idea how wrong she is yet.

“Fujimaru Ritsuka,” he says, turning to her. She flinches at the sound of her name. “I have to say, you surprised us. I’ll give you that. You got a lot farther than you should have been able to. Hell, if you hadn’t left so many people alive, we’d have had no way to know to head you off down here in time.” He smiles, enjoying that, and then the expression changes, tone with it. “Speaking of, keep Archman contained. I’m sure he’s got a great explanation as to how they got down here and why he’s still alive, and I’ll hear it in due time, but I’ve heard Suda’s version of events from the R&D wing already,” he glances over his shoulder at the doctor, and even from here, I can see him flinch in response and take a little half-step back, the guards near him moving closer in response, “and I hope you know whatever answer you have ready by the time I get you in a room alone, it’s gonna have to be a really, really good one.” There is almost a hungry tone to his voice

“Sir, I-I never—” he starts.

Toujou holds up a hand. “-You’ll get a chance, Archman. As for you,” he continues, glancing back down at Ritsuka, “I’m afraid we’re going to be settling things right here. You never should have done this, little girl. I’m sure tjat you see that now, but as you might have guessed, it’s a little late.”

“I-I only wanted to help them,” she says, voice quieter and strained. Scared. “It was wrong to keep-“

He kneels and takes her chin, gun leveled at her head in his free hand, and she flinches too and stops talking, and I see Emiya and Billy tense, fighting every instinct they have to lash out. We all know the second one of us takes a shot, everyone will, and it won’t be enough to have good odds of saving her, which means we only move when he have no other choice. Even barely knowing the girl, though, and at so much more of a distance, it makes my skin crawl.

“I don’t think I can express to you how little I care,” says Toujou.

I think I see a little something break in Ritsuka’s eyes as she stares back at him. She doesn’t draw back though. Only her breathing changes.

Toujou straightens up, exhaling slowly. “Alright. So, Miss Fujimaru, no point dragging things out. What you have here are two options going forward, and I’m going to make them very simple. It’s too late for you. Plain and simple. And we’re absolutely going to kill you. –It isn’t really personal,” he adds in a detached tone, gesturing with his free hand, “But you simply know too much, and we have to make examples. That’s just what’s done. We can, however, make it quick. And you can still make a real choice here. About your parents.”

Her eyes go wide, and she sucks in a breath and stops breathing, horror filling her face.

“And your twin brother,” he continues, eyes fixed on her, “They don’t know anything yet. So, they can go free. If, you use those command seals to tell your archer to kill himself,” he gestures to Emiya, still hunched half over her like a protective shield, “and shut the rest down.”

She opens her mouth, but doesn’t say anything. Eyes moving quick, trying to think, expression hunted.

“David,” I try, praying he’s got an answer.

“Or, you can try to fight us. Not come peacefully,” continues Toujou like he truly doesn’t care, “Most likely, you kill a few of us, we put these spirits down like dogs, and then we take our time with you. Best case scenario for you, you somehow beat all the odds take our entire patrol down, and we blow the charges in the cave above and all of you are buried in the rubble. My boss instantly gets a message I’ve been killed, and your family is dragged out to some little warehouse in the middle of the night, and tortured to death over the next seven days, while we play them footage of your choice not to save them on a big screen. It’s really all up to you. Either way, you all die. But is losing your whole family like that really worth taking a few more of us with you?” There’s a smile on his face. The kind I’ve seen only on people manipulating children into terrible things through fear. Self-assured, sadistic, pleased, like a hungry monster lurking in the shadows with glowing teeth.

“…Why?” she manages in a whisper finally, eyes filling with tears and starting to shake.

I’d forgotten we’re all connected until this moment, but I can feel the worry and distress from everyone else spike around me.

“David,” I think again, desperate.

“This is just how the real world works,” answers Toujou, “You’re learning the hard way. Maybe with a lesson this hard, in your next life, you won’t forget it.”

“I found the sigils, but as soon as I break any, they’ll shoot, and the ones down there aren’t even the whole problem,” comes David’s voice, tense, “There’s more of them up here. A lot more. I don’t think they’ve tipped their hand yet.”

More?

“With us how we are, it’s going to be hard to get past them all, and I once I shoot, I think I can only take down about 3/4ths of the field before we’re in a fight.”

I expect to see Emiya looking at Ritsuka or Toujou when I glance their way, but he’s looking past the group at something I can’t see. There’s something about his gaze.

“If I can get just a little mana, I can get her at least to the roof unharmed,” comes Billy’s voice in my head, strained and shaking, “Will that be enough?”

“Wait. Stall,” says Emiya instead, very definitively, utterly unmoving.

Stall, don’t fight? Even now?

But, he seems so sure.

Okay, then. I guess I should trust him. Oh this sucks, I think it’s probably my turn to be the brave one.

“Do you really think this won’t backfire eventually?” I manage, surprised that my voice doesn’t sound weaker. I am very aware this might get me shot, but in full honestly it has occurred to me that that would hurt a lot less than just existing in this fucking field does right now, and well, someone’s got to do it.

Almost on cue, every gunman without someone between me and them trains their weapon on me. Well, it was a short life, but it surprisingly was not the worst one. Not even in the bottom three.

“You know it’s only a matter of time!” I force myself to continue, throat burning from the effort of use, “until the Counter Force sends someone to stop you. They won’t leave anything behind.”

“Well,” says Toujou, nonplussed, “I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” He turns back to Ritsuka, who is staring at nothing, eyes huge, kneeling at his feet. “So,” he says, kicking her knee to snap her out of it and get her attention, “You took your moment to think. Your answer?”

“I…” says Ritsuka. She chokes up and has to stop.

“How bad?” Emiya asks.

“Numbers? About half of what’s down there. That’s not the issue. There’s a heavy concentration of magic, and I know the type of signature. A lot of mages, but a handful of the ones up here and at least one of the men down there are towing shiki.”

He can sense that?

I try to feel it too, I should be able to if he can. There is a significant concentration of magic on Toujou, and I can feel more above us, even through the field, and it’s distinct, but it’s not a signature I recognize. How does a king from the Middle East know a Japanese magical signature so well? There must be something similar you were familiar with, I guess. That would track. I’m feeling thoroughly outdone in the magic department…

“Four?” checks Emiya.

“Your answer,” repeats Toujou, more force in his words. She still says nothing. I suddenly wonder if she’s stalling too.

“More capable mages, four towing pacts, at least two strong onmyojis,” says David.

“The one down here is Toujou,” I pass on.

“I’m losing the little patience I had,” says Toujou, all casualness gone from his tone.

“Why?” she pleads in a whisper, “Why are you doing this?”

He sighs. “Suda. Cut out one of her eyes to help her think. Nosaka, hold her still.”

The men called move forward and I hear the hammer of Billy’s gun click.

Toujou smiles. “Do it. Let her family die. Is that what you’ve decided you want, Fujimaru?”

“Wait,” pleads Ritsuka, starting to cry, “Don’t shoot them! Just let them—Billy, please!”

“Wait,” says Emiya in our heads.

Billy hesitates, looking Emiya and then Ritsuka pleadingly, then the armed men, torn. They keep coming and he doesn’t lower his gun, but he doesn’t fire. He waits, as long as any of us can possibly wait. Stall, stall, stall? We’re out of time for it!

“We can’t stall anymore!” I hear Robin’s voice in my head, furious.

“We’re not,” says a voice I don’t know.

They start to bend over Ritsuka and there’s energy like a bolt of lightning; I hear metal on metal and see something rip through Suda’s back and out his chest, clear into and through the second man, hear them scream and see them go limp and fall as the lance is ripped back out and swings around almost too fast to see, carving through the heads of the two nearest gunmen, and then the room is chaos.

Above us, I hear things shattering back to back to back, and I feel the bounded field immediately weaken drastically. David! More sounds above me with it. Shouts, movement, things that are definitely not human. I’m up too, body throbbing with pain, staggering to my feet, just in time to have about twenty armed soldiers I had just forgotten about turn and open fire on me.

Haha, fuck.

I jump, since dropping is what they expect me to do if I dodge, and several of them accidentally shoot each other and are flung backwards. I still can’t feel or move my right arm, so I summon my baton to my left instead and swing it. There’s a hum in the air as my music takes physical form and sharpens like a dagger, then slams into the guards nearest to me as I start to fall back down. Okay—this is bad though because they’re definitely going to— The guards turn as one and aim upwards, and a blur of grey movement cuts the first three in half, spins, and takes the heads off another two, then runs the last through the stomach on his sword, before dashing off towards Ritsuka. But, he glances over his shoulder when he hears me land safely among the pile of corpses, and I see Salieri’s face for just a second.

“I could use some backup on the roof if possible, gentlemen,” calls David in my head in a tone that somehow communicates both casualness and the emotion ‘ Help :’-) ‘.

I’m going, but I look for Ritsuka first. It can’t have been more than a couple of seconds, but it is a chaos of smoke and gunfire in here—I’ve been shot like six times just by stray bullets, my body just hasn’t recovered sensation yet so I’m barely noticing, which is great! Mind working is working in bullet-time, too, which should help, but I don’t even see Antonio anymore.

There! Gunpowder. Billy. The colt has a very different sound to it than these modern guns, and I hear the clanging of weapons. Through the smoke I see the lancer moving at impossible speed—I mean, he was dead a minute ago! But he’s sure up and raring now. It’s crazy—I mean there’s a hole in this man’s torso, and he’s moving like he hasn’t even noticed, dashing up walls and breaking defensive formations, ripping through soldiers with his spear like an unstoppable force of nature, so fast they can barely see him before they’re dead—I can barely see him before they’re dead! The man weaves through a row of gunfire like it’s nothing, slides under what’s left of the bullet spray, and slices the legs out from six men, and only as he makes his feet again do I suddenly realize he’s holding Ritsuka. The poor girl has her eyes squeezed shut, clinging to him, but she looks unharmed.

How, I think in wonder, remembering again now to summon bursts of manna around me and direct them at soldiers as they come, How are you so fast?

Emiya’s close to me still, back to back with Billy, taking on the lion’s share of the remaining men. Billy’s made it to his feet, but he’s as pale as a corpse and weaving, firing off shots steadily somehow in spite of it. Emiya almost seems normal. Except that he’s slicing through men with his daggers with a ferocity that I haven’t seen before. At the far end of the room, I see Toujou backing up, firing, something almost transparent—no, several things—whirring around him as he does, and then he looks down in surprise at his foot. There’s something run through it, like a wooden stake. A vine? It erupts and I hear him scream, and then he’s gone in a haze of purple smoke. Robin.

“Any of you?” calls David, overly desperate now, and I hear something massive slam into a wall and break above me. Well that’s not good.

I answer the call this time, and leap through one of the holes, skidding on the metal roof and spotting David, face ashy, leaping back to avoid the club of a summoned Oni four times his size, twisting in the air just in time to avoid having a chunk taken out of his torso from behind by a gigantic snake with the head of a woman and a mouth the size of his head.

“AH,” I scream reflexively at the sight of that. Oh no, there’s more. An indescribably ugly thing the size of a bus turns towards me and flexes claws. Shit, the onmyojis.

I forgot them! God, I hate stuff like this so much! I don’t want to get crushed and eaten by something like that!

Still mid-air, David fires off five shots from his sling not at either monster, but at a few of the remaining sigils. One stone hits its mark, but the other four are deflected by fast, almost transparent things I hadn’t seen before up—but just like the ones I saw for a moment by Toujou. Shiki. Still in spirit form. That has to be it. Fast, too. Fucking pet monsters! This was already going so great up here!

Running away from the bus sized thing I have decided is the last monster on this roof I want to kill me, and that I deserve to choose at least that, I fire off a barrage of music, sharpening it into needlepoints with my will as the sound charged with mana cuts through the air, and bring them to a crescendo that explodes on impact as the needles collide with the snake woman’s face. This successfully diverts her attention for a second, towards me, but David is still swamped with yokai.

God, if we were just at even close to normal power, this would be so different, but anything but my weakest attacks, and I start to feel like I’ll drop. But I hate being tactical! I think in distress, rolling out of the way of a club as a mage shouts and a gigantic blue oni under her command turns from David to lash out at me, denting what’s left of the roof.

Okay—bright side! At least we got most of the bounded field—but where’s-?

There’s a burst of gunfire below, and I see Salieri leap to the roof with us to avoid it, landing a few yards away. He’s riddled with bullet holes—has he just not been dodging them at all?!? R-Right, Avengers get some weird kind of amplified power by taking damage, or ill will, or something, right? He doesn’t look worried anyway. He looks wildly calm. Head down, breathing even. He tilts his chin up, blood dripping down his head, and his bright red eyes scan the roof in an instant, taking in everyone there, singling out the onmyojis and the mages with pacts, and in my head I hear him say “King David, Amadeus, get out of range.”

DON’T HAVE TO TELL ME TWICE, I think, absolutely thrilled and terrified at the same time by the look on his face.

“Yes! Destroy them, Schatz!” I call encouragingly in his head as I turn and book, and he immediately does the mental equivalent of tripping. Former focus vanished, he gives me the most taken aback look I’ve ever seen, so I shoot him a very encouraging grin.

Somehow, he recovers, and as David and I weave through the wildly too fast snake woman’s attempts to cut off our retreat and constrict us to snap our bones, I feel a pressure hit the air behind us. Even out of range, I can hear it. A sense like whispers. Like the way it feels when you know everyone in the room is saying truly awful things about you just too low for you to get to know the exact words, and that feeling explodes and then tightens, catching them like a nose ripped taut as it washes over the crowd around Salieri. Some of them start screaming, or collapse, clutching their heads. Even a heroic spirit and not in his area of effect, I can feel the whispers preying at my psyche.

I hope that’s not hitting anyone below us, I think, worried for a moment about Ritsuka. Surely not—he only warned David and me. R-Right.

The strongest of the mages on the roof focus their entire strength immediately on Salieri, and a barrage of magical blades, energy, gunfire is sent his way by nearly everyone still on their feet. There are about six transparent shiki on the roof, and three Oni, two spirits I haven’t gotten a good look at, the bus sized monster I can’t figure out the nature of, and the snake woman thing, and all of them, even her, with all her blood lust pointed a moment ago at us, whirl, and rush Salieri.

Shit! He can’t—not like this, alone! And if he dies here— It’s been 200 years; we barely spoke! I don’t know when the next time--!

I spin on my heel run for him, knowing his ability hasn’t stopped, but, I’m a heroic spirit—it shouldn’t affect me like a human, at the very least.

But, I step into the pressure, and I am so very wrong.

I’m not on the roof anymore. For one moment I am, I am seeing Salieri and running, but then I’m just gone.

I feel the noose tighten and catch me, feel the pressure, the voices, and I look up then and I’m back home. People. Family. Old friends, old enemies, old somethings in between. I see them walking past me, like shadows. My wife. I reach out to Constanze and she turns and the hurt in her eyes overwhelms me as she lashes out, asking how I could be so careless with money, how I could leave them like I did, and I want to die—I know that thought, even the tone; it tormented me on my deathbed. I thought I told her. I told her. I did, didn’t I? I apologized, it’s so important, I must have! My failures flash by and I barely have time to see them before instead I’m seeing Salieri. Standing alone, at my grave side, in the rain. It must be the day after. Everyone else has gone home, and he is standing alone, with an umbrella. Not talking, just looking through the stone at nothing, or maybe simply at things I cannot. See.

You look so alone, I think, wishing I could speak to him. It’s strange. It should make me feel glad to see people I loved in life mourn me—it’s good to know how much they care, but, it doesn’t. It just makes me sorry. I am not used to feeling that way.

He is still there, and not there at once. He is walking into an establishment for dinner, he is attending a concert, he is walking in the streets. He is still at the graveside. He is alone in his home. All around him, people I know, people I don’t. My father’s family, strangers, old friends even, old enemies, old anything. His, mine. They are whispering. I can hear them. Whispering about how I was killed. About how Salieri did it. About why. About how horrific my murder, how long my death, how despicable to do it, how terrible he’s gotten away. I see them following him, the words, the people. Crowding in and in and in and in until I can’t breathe. How is he breathing? Murderer, they say, and he walks on. He doesn’t get angry and defend himself. I see someone stop him in the street and shout, I think it is the first time this has happened, and he looks so shocked. I see him by the graveside, looking up from my grave, eyes wide with hurt and surprise and nothing else yet. Looking up and looking around and seeing everyone, all of them calling him this. I see him go home and sit alone. Read old notes. Try to work, try to write. Teaching my son, looking after him. Trying to smile. Walking slower. His eyes are fading. I see him sitting still, so long, looking at a dagger with an echo of that same first look, the surprise and the hurt, but there is exhaustion with it now, and sorrow, and confusion. I don’t want to watch him cut his throat—I know he’s going to; I know this happened—I wasn’t meant to see it—I wasn’t.

Fuck! What’s happening? This is hurting me—it’s eating away at my spirit core—how—how—it’s not even my memories—but they are, they’re, they’re my fault. I didn’t!—I couldn’t have—!

The world is back without transition, the oppression ripping up my mind simply gone, and I am left standing still, gasping on the broken roof, seeing Salieri’s face even more drained of color than usual, staring back at me, eyes wide with concern and shock. He doesn’t even see the oni coming up behind him; he only sees me.

You idiot—you’re about to get thrown into the side of the cave wall and take it like a ceramic bowling pin. I summon every bit of strength I have and send a tide of music ricocheting around, carving past or through threats until it collies a second later with the huge red oni already mid swing so hard it knocks it onto its back. Hah.

“Pay attention!” I call, smiling in sheer relief, and running again.

“I-I was!” he defends, taken off guard and swinging around to see what he just heard go down, then refocusing in earnest on the group of threats converging on him, “Until you did exactly what I told you not to!”

“Yeah, but you were about to get destroyed!” I call back. A stone from David’s sling comes past me with so much force the wind almost sends me flying, and does send me skidding, and the thing that I hate so much that looks like an ugly, horrific, nuclear waste decay version of, I don’t even know—one of those horrible little troll dolls the Throne somehow decided were important enough to add to my knowledge of the world that time I was summoned to the 1990s—makes a horrible scream and falls back form Salieri as it takes it to the face.

There’s a sudden burst of purple smoke and one of the onmyojis goes down, coughing and clutching his throat. His shiki rush to defend him, and I see a flash of arrows slamming into them as Robin appears and lands at a safe distance, shimmering back into visibility. “Seems like you all could use a hand up here.”

“How’s it going down there?” calls King David, dodging through coils of the snake woman who has turned her attention back to him, twisting in the air fast and sure until she’s tied herself in a knot, and then slamming her in the head with his staff, before taking a couple pot shots at remaining mages nearby who return his fire with some of their own, though four go down hard.

“Oh, you know,” says Robin, rolling out of the way as the two shiki he angered tear after him and leave a smoking husk of metal where he just was, “I feel like the lancer’s kind of got it covered.”

I mow down a few of the closer mages myself, and then pop my head down into one of the ceiling holes for just a second to get a look upside-down at what he means. It’s utter fucking chaos. Almost everyone is dead though, which is great for us, and I hear frantic shouts and attempts to back-to-back formation from the few people remaining. The Lancer appears out of the smoke with the speed and destructive power of a fired siege weapon and just carves through the nearest group with his spear, running four people through at once, pivoting on his ankle and ripping his spear free to slice through another two, then running the last one through the stomach and launching his body at the next group as a projectile weapon before zooming off again, a crazed grin on his face.

Give that guy a raise, I think, pulling my head back up. “Yeah! Looks like it! AHhhh—” I roll out of the way blast of frozen air comes at me, and still come up shuddering from the sudden cold. Ohhhh that’s a ghost. I recognize this one! A Yuki-onna! I’m very prod of myself; I know shit about ghosts! But this one loves to freeze men and suck their souls out. Fun! Actually, hate that! Wish I didn’t remember! I shoot her in the face with as much mana as I can muster, turn tail, and run.

“Guys I’m sorry but I’m still pretty tapped out—there’s not a lot I can do!” I call.

“Then stick close to someone else!” calls Salieri, so I veer towards him, and he shouts in dismay “No! Anyone who is not me!”

“I gotcha,” comes Billy the Kid’s voice, and just ahead to my left, he comes springing out of the room beneath us and lands on a knee at my side. “Oh shit!” he says to me almost excitedly, flipping out the chamber of his colt and summoning new bullets for it, “It’s so much worse up here!”

“Why did you think I was calling for haaaaaaa!” King David cuts off mid-sentence to try and deflect a group of mages and three shiki closing in on him. He’s fast. The spirits are still transparent, but you can see the shimmer in the air when they move, and he catches and deflects the first with his staff, then spins and roundhouse kicks the second away, before hopping over the third and twisting in the air to dodge a barrage of mana shots from the oncoming mages, returning blow for blow quick with little rocks from his sling, which is wildly accurate even shot from his off hand.

“Better get over there,” says Billy to me, nodding with his head and taking off, firing and hitting a few mages in the back, who scream and go down, as we run. I’m surprised to see he’s firing non-lethally.

“Are you intentionally not killing them?” I ask, sliding under a flung lance one of the mage’s I didn’t even see summoned, and blocking a second barrage with a burst of my own mana summoned as a physical aria. I’ve always liked the way everyone has to hear my magic, because it really seems to distract them in battle. Something about hearing a speedy piano melody firing off complexities where no piano is just really seems to spook most humans. I get a few lucky shots in right after my shield, and so does Billy, and again, I can tell he’s mostly aiming for shoulders.

“Oh, did no one tell you?” Billy replies mentally—I can only assume so the enemy won’t hear, “Ritsuka asked us to not kill anyone we can help.”

My mind flashes back vividly to Salieri chopping like six guys in half and that Lancer’s pile of carnage down below. “Uh.”

Toujou said something about that, didn’t he? About how it got them into trouble. …Well, I don’t know if anyone but Billy is still doing it, and after what they were threatening to do to our girl, I’m not surprised, but if it’s what the little lady wants, I …guess I should try? So, mentally I meet myself halfway and adjust my own strategy to ‘incapacitate when manageable to do so.’

Ahead, Billy fires off six shots from his revolver, taking out two more mages and landing some solid hits on two of the shiki, which whirl on him. I skid to a stop, but Billy just grins, unphased, and levels his gun.

“I’ll let you draw first, cause I’m faster. FIRE!” A massive surge of energy wells up around him for a millisecond, like a wave crashing down on my head and shoving past me, and his phantasm fires off, carving holes through both shiki at once, lined up perfectly only a foot away from running him through, and they disappear.

“How do you have the energy for that?” I ask excitedly as I deflect a sword swipe from a mage who rushes me, using my baton, and then kick him away.

Billy winks. “Perks of bein’ me!”

Fascinating. It didn’t seem to cost much mana, because I’m still doing fine, and I know we’re all sharing a source, but in the moment, the intensity of the shot was on par with a high level phantasm, so how? It must have a method of amplifying itself. I’d love to know more some time things aren’t trying to bite me to death.

On my far right, almost behind me, I hear a loud crash and turn to see Emiya leap out of the room below, holding Ritsuka now, and land with one arm around her, the other holding a very bloodied shortsword. He doesn’t look so great himself, but mostly he looks pissed.

That just leaves- As I think it, the Lancer bursts through the room below too, two people already impaled on his spear, and flings them away at the nearest enemies on the rooftop, taking them out like bowing pins, lance immediately readied again and aimed, and the second they land, he and Emiya automatically move back to back, swords appearing in the air offensively by Emiya as they take in opponents.

The lancer grins. “Half dead, a couple onmyojis, some demons, and a pile of mages. Now that’s a fight worth waking up in.”

“We need to pull back,” says Emiya in our heads.

“Like hell,” replies the Lancer out loud, still grinning at the challenge ahead, and the aura around him intensifies.

”No—that isn’t why-“ starts Emiya, but the Lancer is gone then, tearing through enemies like a zigzagging bolt of lightning. His gaping chest wound hasn’t disappeared, but it’s like he can’t feel it, and I see him run some mages through and get swatted into a cave wall by one of the oni, but he just drags himself back out like he couldn’t feel that either.

I actually think we can take them now, with the field mostly disassembled. It’s having little effect at this point, even on Billy and me, and the enemy might be powerful, but so are we, and there’s a lot of us, and with this battle-crazed lancer?

Mostly just trying to keep the onmyoji we attacked on Billy and me so David can focus on the snake woman monster and the other one, I fire off a barrage of music, but I steal a glance at Emiya as I do, because with Billy guarding me, I can afford to. He still looks tense. But you must know we could win. So it’s something else?

It’s not until wondering that I see the kid again. She’s clinging to Emiya, but she’s not got her face buried now, she’s watching. Ah. Right. I forget. –

The red oni swings around on Emiya and tries to bash him into the ground, but he fires a barrage of swords and dodges around it, leaping too fast for it to get a hit in, and slashing at its arms and legs and neck as he moves. Even one-handed, he’s lethal.

“NOW!” Emiya tries again, landing at enough distance from the crippled oni to have a second, “If we don’t regroup, at best we’re going to be dealing with a cave-in any minute, and I’m not sure we have enough mana between us for us all to survive that! If we go, we might have time to retrieve her parents before something worse happens; we stay, everything is only going to get worse! NOW! I mean it! We can come back when we’re not all barely holding on, and the targets we need are all actually in the building—we have to cut our losses!”

“What?” says the Lancer as he leaps over a group of mages and flings his spear at a few before calling it back to him as he lands on the other side. Right, he probably has almost no context for what’s going on right now.

I guess Emiya’s got a point. We could probably beat them, but we’d be running thin on mana by the end, and they’re not the only problem. If they cave us in? We’ll have to flee without detonating the safe anyway, and even we might have trouble making it. He’s right—I forgot about the bomb threat. And if they have reinforcements too?

“We’re runnin?” checks Billy, and I think he’s asking Ritsuka.

“M-My mom and dad,” she starts nervously.

“Yes!” snaps Emiya, turning without us and bolting for the cables.

“Are you sure?” she asks him mentally, and while he doesn’t share his response with the group, whatever he says to just her must be some version of ‘yes,’ because she calls out to the rest of us, “Okay, come on! Let’s get out of here in one piece! We’ll try again when everyone’s okay!”

“Shit,” calls Billy, more to himself than anyone, and he fires a few shots then turns and runs after them. Alright, live to fight another day- I think, and turn after Billy, blocking shots from the rear with an aria as Billy deflects projectiles from ahead with the side of his gun. I see Robin and Salieri turn off to join us, and the Lancer more frustratedly cursing and doing the same, taking out everyone he can on his way, but David’s hesitating halfway to the lift cables. What are you doing?

“FUJIMARU!”

Billy and I have just made the base of the elevator, where the cables end on the roof, and skid to a stop together to look over our shoulders.

“I thought Robin killed him,” I say automatically, gaping as I see Toujou, still alive, dragging himself upright onto the roof. His left leg is bleeding, and he’s limping, but he’s furious and unafraid, with a powerful aura of magic around him, and five shiki zooming close, protectively. Orbiting him.

“Run from me, and your parents will be dead before you’re even out of the city!” He’s seething, if that was an action someone calm could do. I don’t know how else to describe it.

Not waiting for things to get worse, Billy takes six shots at him in an instant, but the shiki are too quick, and one of them moves and catches the shots for Toujou and vanishes. I wonder if he had more before Robin. Another of the pet spirits screams in an inhuman voice and readies itself in the air facing us, like a prepped missile while the rest continue to orbit. Toujou doesn’t even seem to register it.

“You think we only have people here?” he shouts to Ritsuka, “We’re well connected! We have people everywhere, and we’ve had units watching your house since last night! Just in case! I have a message set to send if I don’t cancel it, dead or alive, and the second it goes, they’re being brought in, and even with a heroic spirit, you won’t be able to save the! Is that what you want?! You little bitch! Your family, like I promised? I see you have a stomach for it,” he adds, gesturing at the blood around him and the fallen mages.

I look at Ritsuka and see her pale and sick, only a few feet up where Emiya has a hand on one of the cables, still holding her in his other. “I’m not,” I hear her whisper far too quietly for Toujou to make it out.

Our lancer turns his spear to face Toujou, grip tightening on the shaft, feeling a rage I can sense form here, a rage think a lot of us are feeling.

“Go on, have one of them kill me, if it can,” says Toujou unphased, voice calming, but just as steeped in venom and spite as before, “But the second you do, your family is dead. Is that what you want, little girl?”

She looks at Emiya for help, then all of us, then back to Toujou. Breathing too quick. The rest of us have stopped, and so have his men—they’ve even stopped their monsters. Not wanting to provoke action first.

“Wait, please!” calls Ritsuka, “My parents don’t have anything to do with this! They don’t even know anything about it!”

“Then do what I ask,” calls Toujou, “Break your contracts and cripple them, and kill the one you summoned yourself.” Ritsuka turns scared to look up at Emiya again, and Toujou keeps going, not giving her a second of peace to think. “Even if you kill every single one of us here, and miraculously survive it, the cave is coming down. Do you think you’ll survive that, strapped for mana the way you are? It’s futile! And if—if by some sheer miracle of fate you do make it, your family will be dead to rights before you’ve even left the compound! They live too far away for you to get there first, even on a heroic spirit’s shoulders—you know that. There’s no way out for you!”

“Please, if you would just let us—!” starts Ritsuka.

“I’m not here to bargain!” shouts Toujou, “You don’t seem to understand the position you’re in; you’re already dead! The only question, is if trying to keep going a little longer is worth the skin being peeled off your mother while she watches footage of your death. Give me an answer!”

“Why?” asks Ritsuka desperately, overwhelmed, “Why would you do this?”

“I’m done answering questions,” says Toujou levelly, composure returned, “And I’m done asking. Surrender, now, or in twenty seconds the message sends on its own, and whatever we have to do for the company, we do it. I won’t ask again, little girl. So what will it be?”

Electronic devices. I’m thinking as fast as I can, trying to figure out some way to stop him from sending a message. Shit, shit. It’s set to go if he dies, which means he’s probably got a sender somewhere else in the building he would contact to stop a message, and it’s not a device down here at all. That’s too much range.

“You played the game adults play, and you lost it, little girl,” says Toujou, taking a step towards her, shiki still circling him, and he extends a hand in her direction, but there is nothing welcoming in that gesture. Everything about him is hostile and cold. “You’re walking around with a Biblical figure right now; haven’t you heard what happens to people who live by the sword?”

It makes me irrationally furious he’s referencing a passage I thought of only a few minutes ago. I want to break his neck. But I can’t.

“I-I,” says Ritsuka desperately, looking from him to Emiya, gaze holding on Emiya. I can’t imagine what’s going through his head.

I want to think ‘Don’t do it,’ but I’m trying to think what I’d do for my own children at the same time, and I can’t think at all, except to be sorry we’re standing here like this, whatever happens next, and to feel desperately like there’s something I should be doing, when I know the one thing I can’t do right now without ruining everything is act.

“Nine seconds!” shouts Toujou.

Everyone else has stayed frozen too, mages and spirits and monsters alike. Waiting.

“I…” she starts shakily, raising her hand, remaining command seals bright on it.

A massive explosion goes off beneath our feet.

I have no idea what has caused it, or where it’s coming from, but the ground shakes and erupts with enough pressure I’m knocked into the two mages nearest me and we all go falling backwards—everyone does. The lights go out—power in the whole building shuts off, and everyone is flung wide apart, struggling to land without being ripped to shreds on rocks of the cave wall. Chunks of ceiling start to fall, I can see them, but it’s not the explosion Toujou threatened—it’s something else. A surge of mana goes through the air, up from beneath us, so thick I choke on it—gagging and gasping and fighting to breathe—I see the oni and spirits around me doing the same, trying to filter the magic through our own mana-based systems and struggling, the most wounded oni failing and going still. Shit shit shit—it’s like drowning, or choking on a dust storm. Can’t breathe can’t breathe – Where is it coming-?!

The ground erupts again the second explosion so much louder than the last, and it blows the eardrums of my vessel out and I am sent flying, everyone else with me, sense of sound gone, head throbbing, struggling to fill my lungs. I hit a cave wall and see Billy impact not far from me, head bleeding, but awake, wincing and opening one eye. It’s still going on, that’s what I can’t fathom. The vault, I realize. That’s all it can be. Someone blew the vault. The pressure of the explosion hits again, and I know I’m right; we’re all pinned there, against whatever wall we hit, but there’s no fire, no heat—it’s like being in a centrifugal force machine going at impossible speeds—like nothing I’ve ever quite experienced—Shit! Master!

How did I forget her?! So much more fragile, she might be-! But no—I see her, with Emiya still, a tiny figure near the far, far wall from me. Somehow she isn’t pinned by the force like we are, and neither is he. He’s got his arms out and something bright pink, semi-transparent, and huge, shape a little like a flower, between him and the source of the explosion. A…shield? Whatever it is, it’s working. Shimmering, cracking, but not breaking. I feel relief at the sight, and then the pressure the mana is generating against my still too weakly recovered vessel is too much for it to handle and all sensation shuts off.

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

Nnhg…mmhhhn…o-ow. w. where? Sh-shit.

Everything hurts. So much. I can’t? Can’t quite…understand w-why. It. …

It’s hard. …To…breathe. My. r-ribs. …what? What happened to me? I…

Head…aches. Sh-shit. I think. I-I think you really hurt yourself, I grasp weakly. This is bad. Why would I do that? I-I’ve been…so. So…careful…

What happened…?

My ears are ringing. I can’t hear much at all, but there’s sound—voices, movement. It’s just jumbled. And…roaring? Fire. Something…burning. I can—can smell it, too. That and blood...

I was. I was… I was! I—

“There!”

The sound is murky, but I still hear it. The first word I distinctly hear.

Footsteps coming my way.

Wake up. Come on. I try, forcing my eyes open. The ceiling above me is jagged, full of breaks and holes, and past it I can only see darkness. Weakly, I turn my head to the left as far as it will go, and take in the sight past me, through the now scorched glass frame of the vault’s bounded field. Everything is destroyed. It’s just smoking wreckage, a roaring wasteland of irreplaceable things, thick with mana. It’s bright, but it’s the only source of light in the building now.

The power systems broke from the aftershock. It’s a blackout, I tell myself, trying to feel it, It worked.

A stab of pain digs through my stomach, and I try to hold perfectly still, sucking in a breath and closing my eyes. Shit, shit. I’m in trouble. I don’t know how bad—I don’t even know how long it’s been since the blast, how long I’ve been out, but I’m afraid one of my legs is broken, and my torso is clearly injured. So fix it, I think shakily, C-Come on, you’re a—a doctor now, Romani. But I don’t think I can. I’m afraid to even look and really see, the way it feels.

But you…h-have to, I tell myself, fighting to think through the pain, No…choice. Nobody is coming to save you, and you. Can’t die yet. G-Get up. The thought of moving makes me want to sob, but I know I’m right. I can’t die. I have to move. I have to do this. Come on. Come on, get up!

Struggling, I open my eyes and manage to bend a little to see my waist. Sh-shit. Worse than I thought. I’m bleeding badly. There’s a chunk of ceiling through my abdomen the size of an axe head. I try to move a shaking hand up towards it, and it’s almost enough effort to make me black out. Shit, shit—It’s all so different now. Like this there’s so little I can do. You can’t give up! I try again, to move. I just…can’t. I can’t. I can’t… I was right. The left leg broken, badly, twisted so far back my foot is almost even with my hips. It hurts. It hurts… Fuck—I-I—

I see boots go by and stop in front of me, hear a soldier call out again. “He’s here!”

Oh please God.

“H-Help,” I try weakly, looking up at the tinted visor.

“Well. Doctor Roman.”

I know the voice. Any relief vanishes.

There are footsteps behind me, and I swallow at the tone, try to crane my neck to see him, but I can barely even make out his boots from my position. Toujou? How are you still alive?

I feel a chill run down my spine. Why is he so calm?

The head of security crouches by me, surveying the damage casually, automatic rifle lazily relaxed in his grip. “Well,” he says, glancing over and making eye contact, “You really did a number on yourself, didn’t you?”

“W-What?” I say, terror digging into the back of my brain and rooting there. He’s never liked me—this is bad this is really, really bad.

“Oh please,” he says, “You think I’m a fool? That little group of spirits makes it down here with you in record time, you barely injured-?”

“—No! No, it’s nothing like that,” I cut him off desperately, “I swear, sir—I—one of them could get inside a mind—the Avenger—please—I didn’t tell them anything! I would never betray the company—”

Pain shoots down my neck and along my spine as he lunges and grabs a fistful of my hair and drags me up towards him, so intense my vision goes dark and I scream as my leg drags back the wrong way against the ground and the piece of metal in my stomach cuts deeper.

“You think I’m an idiot?” he asks calmly, “The Lancer killed everyone still on the ground floor—everyone but you.”

“-I—”

“Which means you were the only one down here when the safe exploded,” he continues, something dark in the level tone.

I can’t turn my head at all, but I can still see it, out of the corner of my eyes—the smoking husk of what was the vault a few moments before. There are still little mana explosions going off somewhere in there, fires crackling and thick dust obscuring the wasteland of what were moments ago priceless pieces of history.

“That’s billions of dollars of resources destroyed,” continues Toujou with the same chilling calmness.

“No—P-Please,” I try, “I would never—”

He places an armored hand on the shrapnel in my stomach and presses down, and I scream. The pain is unimaginable, cutting through my intestines and into my back. It’s too much, it’s too much I can’t I can’t—

“Please!” I scream, “It wasn’t me—One of them must—”

He twists the shrapnel and I black out for a second from the pain and wake up again shuddering as my nerves fight to handle more pain than they are meant to. Help. Help, oh God, please—help! –I’m going to die I can’t I can’t—If I die---please God not now I was so close I can’t I can’t I have to—I still have to—

The cold barrel of an automatic rifle presses up under my chin and lifts it, and I look up desperately at him.

I can see in his eyes he’s already decided.

“I didn’t,” I manage, voice almost gone now, “Sir, I would never.”

“Well, you’ll be proud to know it did work—about killed us, and by the time anyone was up again, they’d split,” says Toujou casually, “But it won’t save them for long. Power will be back up any second, and nothing will have really changed. Except the number of casualties,” he adds, voice dark, “And of course, the vault.”

“Sir, no-“ I try, pleading.

“—This is unfortunate,” Toujou cuts me off tiredly, “But being able to blame it on Chaldea will help a little.”

“—We had nothing to do with it!” I protest frantically, “This isn’t true; Director Ayase won’t believe it—you have no proof—I haven’t done anything to you!”

“We both know you have,” says Toujou, letting go of my hair and standing back up as my head slams against the ground, “And how well you can think up an excuse to cover your ass won’t matter, because you’re not going to be around to give Ayase your version.” He levels his gun at me and I move my right hand to try and find some way to defend myself, but he slams his foot down on it and I cry out as he grinds his heel hard against it. I hear a bone crack.

“You know, Archman,” he exhales, a smile playing on his lips, “I’ve always disliked you. I knew there was something off about you the day I met you; I could just never find the evidence I needed to throw you out. So in some ways, this means today isn’t a total loss. At least I get to do one thing I’ve been wanting to for a long time.”

“No, please!” I shout in a panic, struggling to move, to find some way to survive, “I didn’t help them! Please!”

I hear the clicks of other guns around me.

I’m going to die. So soon. And what will happen without me? Everyone; everything! I-I-I can’t. I. I-!

Toujou smiles, and he kicks me, in the gut, sole digging into the chunk of shrapnel, and I scream and jerk, and something cold and rigid and stinking of gunpowder and blood shoves itself into my open mouth and my head is knocked back against the ground again, pinned there by the gun barrel of his automatic rifle digging into the back of my throat as I choke on it and jerk. No no no no God please no, help, please—!

“I’ve wanted to do this to you since the day I met you,” says Toujou with a smile. I hear the sound of a shot and squeeze my eyes shut and jerk as he pulls the trigger.

“HAMESH AVANIM!”

The CRACK of a skull shattering echoes in my damaged ears and the gun rips back out of my mouth, and I open my eyes, shaking—There’s a hole through Toujou’s forehead. His eyes are lifeless, and I watch him fall back, then shudder and jerk again, squeezing my eyes back shut, as I hear the start of shouts from the remaining gunmen around me, and the Crack! Crack! of stones hitting bone, and thud as their bodies fall. It takes me a second in the silence after to realize that none of the sounds were a shot meant for me. I’m still alive.

Oh, God.

It’s him. He came back for me.

Breathing shaky, I let my head rest back against the floor, blood pooling against my cheek as a few more strikes ring out far away from me, and then the place is silent save for the dripping of blood and churning of fire beyond the barrier and a single pair of pounding footsteps.

“Doctor!” He slides to a stop by my side on his knees, and I jerk again at the sudden presence; I shouldn’t, I know him, but I can’t slow my breathing down. I can still feel death hanging above me where it was a moment ago, waiting to fall. “You’re still alive—” He says with great relief, “then it’s all—”

David’s breath catches in his throat, and I can vaguely make out his outline, hands moving up and hovering over me like they don’t know what to do. I hear him whisper, “How? …No...” dismayed, like it doesn’t make sense. “Hey! Hey—No-no—Don’t close your eyes!—Come back! You are stronger than this—I know you are; look up at me! Please, look up at me!” There is a franticness in his voice there wasn’t before. I haven’t even realized I shut my eyes, but I feel his palm against my cheek, tilting my head, and I try weakly to do it.

“Okay, okay, good. I’ve got you,” he promises. I can barely make out his face at all. He’s only a form, a blur. “Stay with me.”

I’m starting to have trouble breathing. I-I must have lost. A lot of…blood, the part of me that’s a doctor now tries to tell me. Yes, I must have…

“No, no, do not sleep.” The voice is heavy with worry, but it isn’t as frantic as it was before. It’s steady now, almost reassuring. “Solomon. Please, look at me. Solomon.”

My name. I…I open my eyes again. Confused, cold. Not sure where I am. Fight as hard as I can to focus. I can see David’s face above me, ashy with worry, covered in scrapes and cuts himself, peering down. Our eyes meet and he smiles, eyes brimming for a second with relief. “That’s right. Good. Just lay still. Stay with me; I’ve got you.”

He waves a hand in the air, and his kinnor appears and he begins to play. I hear music I haven’t heard for a long, long time, and the pain dulls. The cold lessens. My senses all seem to fade a little with it. It’s strange. I feel him pull the shrapnel from my stomach, and whimper, but it doesn’t hurt like it should. I can only hear the strings and his voice speaking words I used to know very well and never quite forgot.

You knew, then, I think, feeling sick and weak, even though the pain is dulled, eyes still on his face, You must have known all along. I was foolish to hope you might not.

As much as I hoped he hadn’t, a part of me is glad he did. Like it mattered he would recognize me, even like this.

I wonder for a moment in the cold of other people’s blood mixing on the ground with my own, if I am still going to die, and have the rather strange thought it wouldn’t be so bad to die like this, with him. But...it. …it would be. I can’t die yet. I…have to fix things. That’s right. The truth settles on me again like the rubble of a thousand temples, such a size that even its shadow is heavy. …I…..

“Hey,” comes David’s voice, and I feel his palm against my face again, drag myself back to the present with it, “We’re almost through it.”

I try to nod. Try to look at him again. My vision is getting so weak though. It hurts. It all hurts so much, even faded to an ache instead of the ripping feeling it was in me before. So heavy. Everything is so heavy. I want to say that, like this, to him, like I haven’t ever before. I want to tell him that in this moment. I want to tell him all of it. I have never wanted to tell anyone any of it before. I’m so…afraid. I am usually not…afraid like this; I…can’t be. I can’t afford to...be… … I-I want to…to…

“There,” he says, removing his hand from my stomach and turning to look at my leg, shifting to face it and turning away from me. Desperate, I move my left hand across my body with the little strength I have and snatch at his wrist to catch it before it’s gone.

“Ab,” I choke out.

He stops and looks down at me, surprised, and then moves his left wrist so it is free of my grasp, and gently intertwines his fingers with mine instead and grips them.

“B'ní,” he replies tenderly. I had not realized, but he has not been speaking Japanese at all, not since after he called me ‘Doctor,’ I think. He smiles at me, eyes full of concern, searching, and shifts the kinnor so it is pressed between his knee and his chest, holding it there, and plays it one-handed, plucking gently at the strings while holding my hand, singing softly with it. “Al mei menuchot yehnahahleyni; Nahfshi yeshohvayv.”

Careful, he reaches over, still singing, and eases my leg back into the position it’s meant to be. My body spasms and I choke back a cry, gritting my teeth, and the pain eases again. I feel so hot for a moment, then freezing cold again as he lays my leg still and resumes playing, but the pain fades out steadily until it is only an ache.

“That’s the worst of it,” breathes out David, letting the kinnor vanish, “You’ll be alright now. Come—let’s get you out of here.”

I watch as he lets go of my hand and slides his arms beneath my back and legs and lifts me. Even after all that, I feel like I can barely think. It’s been so long. I haven’t seen him in almost three thousand years. This is the first time. The first time, since I was twenty-one, that I’ve seen my father, and I tried to avoid him. I didn’t want him to recognize me at all, and I can remember why, but I want to cry. I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid to do anything, but I have been, stupid things, again and again and again, all day. And even the little good in it, I chose so late. I was going to leave him; I am overwhelmed by guilt, and feel my eyes well up and let my head lean limply against his chest as he starts to move.

I don’t know what to do. I only know that it’s going to be so wrong, no matter what I try.

I want to thank him, but I don’t know what to say. I said already the only thing I knew how. I don’t know what to do. I don’t. I need to act, but I don’t know what the right thing is now. I may have already ruined it all. I’m running so fast out of time.

“Solomon, what happened?”

I glance up weakly and see my father looking back at me with worry.

“Who did this to you?” he asks. Confused, distressed, and my heart sinks further. Yes.

“I did it to myself,” I say quietly, turning my eyes away.

“Why?” he asks, more lost now, “How?”

I don’t answer. I try to, but I choke on the words and swallow them, and can’t find them again once I do.

“It’s bad,” I whisper, finding the strength to look up at him again, and he’s looking back like he wants to help, “It’s so bad. I don’t know if I can fix it.” I feel my eyes fill with tears and shut them, trying to get my performance back under control. I have to, if there’s still any chance to do this. Why am I feeling so scared now? What’s happened? I can’t be scared.

Weakly, I turn my head to try and see where we are, breathing still labored. It’s what’s left of the cave, I think, blurry and broken and full of bodies. I should-

“We’ll figure it out together,” promises my father, sounding so sure, like I can still dig deep and remember from so long ago, from when I was very, very young.

I want to believe him.

“Rest,” says David reassuringly. I look up at him, and he smiles back down. So much younger than the version of him I knew. But him. Still the person I recognize. “It’s alright now. You’ll need to heal. I’ve got you,” he promises, “I’ll keep you safe.”

I hope so. I need you to. A note of desperation settles in my chest as I realize how true the thought is. He leaps and starts to pick up speed, and I let my eyes shut and huddle deeper against him. I’m so cold; I’m so tired. I don’t have the strength for anything else.

But I don’t know where we’re going. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I have to think; I have to act. I’m running out of time. I’m running out of everything so fast. I have to fix this—I have to do something. But, I can’t. I can’t right now. I don’t even have the strength to stay awake.

Alright, I think with sheer desperation, giving in and letting my exhausted brain shut down, I hope you’re right, Abba. I hope you’ve got me.

#the kid (fic)#fate go #fate go fic #fate go au #the kid #fate grand order fic #fate grand order #writing #billy the kid fate #robin hood fate #king david fate #solomon fate #romani archman #ritsuka fujimaru #emiya archer #cu chulainn fate #antonio salieri fate #wolfgang amadeus mozart fate #if you want to know more about the nature of spoilers feel free to ask! Eventually there will be some for later events IE EoR & CitLB but #those will be notes as approached and I expect most sans the setup/cause for the original G/O campaign to be vague spoilers #I don’t usually do notes on Tumblr just AO3 but if you don’t know ‘Ab’ or ‘Av’ is diminutive for ‘Abba’ — ‘Father’ in Hebrew. so ‘Ab’ is #‘Dad’ more or less. and ‘B’ní’ (Bne) is ‘Son’/Child I’m #Hebrew. David’s singing part of one of his Psalms when healing (23).#*in Hebrew #this ends fun facts TM #romani archaman

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snowdice · 4 years

Text

Road Trips and Missing Persons (Part 16)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton & Virgil, Virgil & Deceit, Logan & Patton, Emile & Remy, Roman & Remus & Janus

Characters: Patton, Virgil, Deceit, Remus, Roman, Logan, Emile, Remy

Summary: Patton was just getting groceries. The next thing he knew, there was a knife at his throat and he was an unwilling uber driver. Virgil’s on the run after the murder of his dad, and it’s not just his paranoia that’s telling him he’s being chased down. He has to get somewhere safe, somewhere he can trust, and all he has is a couple of stories from his dad and a name: “Green Bellow Foods and Dispensary.”

Notes: Secret Agents AU, knives, carjacking, kidnapping, murder mentioned, guns mentioned, pepper spray, blood mentioned, drugs mentioned, explosions, car crashes (more to be added)

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve affectionately named it the Goblin Brain Fic because it’s helping my brain actually get motivated for studying. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 My Master Post

Remy met the beady little eyes outside the car window with a glare. The cow gazed back at him, a challenge in its eyes. “What are you looking at, future minced meat?” Remy asked.

“They’re dairy cows,” Emile said, head on the steering wheel.

“How the hell would you know?” Remy asked.

Emile looked up at him. “The crashed truck says, ‘Robinson’s Family Dairy.’”

Remy pursed his lips. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

Emile gave him a droll look.

“Maybe they’re the rejects!” Remy turned back to the cow. “I bet you’re too stupid to make milk, huh?”

The cow let out a breath that fogged the window between them.

“Bastard,” Remy grumbled at it.

“You are talking to a cow,” Emile reminded him.

“Oh, like you don’t talk to stuffed animals,” Remy shot back.

“At least I don’t make enemies with them and insult them.”

“She deserves it!”

“She’s just standing there. You’re taking out your frustrations on a farm animal.”

Remy looked back at the cow, his eyes narrowed. Its eyes peered back at him and they did not need to share a language to understand each other in that moment. “I’ll show you a coward,” Remy growled, taking off his seatbelt.

“No, Remy,” Emile hissed. “Don’t you dare.”

Remy ignored him and opened the door to climb out of the car.

“We are on the interstate!”

“Now, you listen here,” Remy said, staring the cow down. “You’ve already caused enough problems for me today. The least you can do is not stare me down in my own…or well my brother’s own car. You feel me?”

The cow stared at him blankly and made a mooing sound.

“Are you understanding the words that are coming out of my mouth right now?”

“I promise you, she isn’t,” Emile offered from the car.

Remy continued to stare the cow down. Finally, after a moment of staring, the cow turned away.

“Ha!” Remy said. “I win.”

“Get back in the car before you get trampled by a herd of cows,” Emile said.

“I’m not going to get trampled,” Remy insisted. “If anything, I’m establishing myself as their ruler.”

“Is this a productive use of your time?” Emile asked.

“Oh, what?” Remy said turning back to him. “And sitting in the car doing nothing is such a better use of my time? Thank you for your input, doctor.”

“Remington, please.”

“Oh, stop with the full name, bullshit,” he turned to cow nearest to him, “no offence intended,” he assured it before turning back to Emile. “You’re not our mother!”

There was a pause. “Remy,” Emile said calmly. “I know you’re upset about Virgil, but...”

“In fact,” Remy talked over him. “I’m older than you! Do you remember who put you through college so you could get that fancy degree you keep using on me tonight? Because it certainly wasn’t our mother because she was already fucking dead! Don’t act like you’re my parent because here’s the thing, I raised you by myself for three years. So, if I’m a shitty dad, you’re definitely fucked up somewhere under that shining topcoat of head doctor crap.”

“I never at any point said-” Emile started, but Remy cut him off.

“Oh, but we both know you’re thinking it!”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Remy.”

“No, no,” Remy said. “I know exactly what’s going through your head. I never should have been a parent, and I proved that with you when you were a teenager, but I still managed to knock up literally the worst person I could. I’m constantly making horrible parenting decisions and even when I try to be responsible, I mess it up. Virgil’s third word was a curse word and I’m lucky he never developed scurvy because I let him eat whatever he wants. He’s currently on a cross-country road trip with god knows who because I fucked up a covert mission I had no business being on and now he’s being tracked down by the woman who shot me with a poisoned bullet. I’m a horrible person and a worse dad. That’s what you’re thinking.”

There was a second where his brother looked at him with his stupid annoying face. “Have you considered that you’re projecting.”

“Ugh!” Remy threw up his hands and turned to walk away.

“Remy where are you going?” Emile called after him.

“I’m walking to base to go get my kid!” Remy called back.

“It’s over 70 miles away!”

He turned around and spread out his arms. “Then I’ll ride a bloody cow! It’ll be faster at this rate!”

“They’ll be cleared up in a few minutes Remy, come back here!” Emile said. Remy flipped him off. “I am not following you on foot!”

“Good!”

Remy turned back around and strutted off down the interstate, skirting cows and police officers the whole way. He grumbled to himself and refused to turn back even when he was pretty sure by the flow of traffic that the accident must have been cleared 15 minutes later.

This was so stupid. Why was he so stupid and useless? Emile was probably glad he ran off like a petulant toddler so he wouldn’t have to deal with him. He’d probably be more effective finding Virgil without Remy messing it all up anyway. He kept walking.

After a couple minutes a car slowed and stopped next to him on the side of the road. Remy looked up to meet Emile’s eyes through the rolled down window.

“Get,” Emile said firmly, “in the damned car.”

Remy blinked in surprise and then hurried to do so.

Emile didn’t speak again until the car was back at a normal speed. “His first word was ‘dad,’” he said, “and he’s happy. I’m not a parent, but from what I’ve observed, parents are allowed to mess up. As long as they do their best and their kid knows they’re loved, they’re a pretty good parent. If you ask me, you’re a good dad.”

“Yeah, well his second word was ‘pizza,’ so I don’t know if it makes me that special,” Remy grumbled.

Emile glanced at him.

“I mean,” Remy continued. “Thank you and sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Emile said. “You know I love you right?”

“Oh, god don’t get all mushy on me.”

“I’m serious,” Emile said. “I’ve been angry at you this entire trip because if you’d died today, I don’t know how I would have handled it. You were reckless, and it could have easily gotten you killed.”

“Don’t you think I know I’m stupid.”

“Stop that,” Emile snapped. “That’s not what I said.”

“Well then, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, why, Remy?” Emile said. “Are you bored? Do you want to go back in the field?”

“No,” Remy said quietly.

“Are you sure?” Emile asked. Remy didn’t answer. “If you do, that’s fine.”

“It’s not though.”

“You’re the one who made that decision and it was 15 years ago,” Emile reminded. “If you want to change your mind, that’s fine, but if you’re going to do it, you can’t just go do it. You have to talk to Logan first, to me, to your kid. Your actions affect other people.”

“I know that.”

“I know you know that, but you just…You get so involved in your head sometimes and forget to think about the consequences. Or worse you ignore them because they’re too hard to think about.”

Remy reached forward and turned on the radio.

“Really?!” Emile asked.

“Chill,” Remy said, turning the volume down, “I just don’t want to have another cow disaster.”

Emile nodded and seemed content to wait for him a few minutes so he could gather his thoughts.

“I’m trying, Em,” Remy said. “Bless their souls, but I’m trying to not be our parents. It’s like walking a tightrope. Go too far one way, you’re an asshole, go too far the other your kid’s running from his mother’s hired guns and throwing out the tracking device you put on him because he thinks you’re dead.”

“It should have to feel like that for you.”

“Yeah?” Remy asked. “And how do you propose I stop it?” Emile looked over at him and opened his mouth. “Yeah, yeah, see a therapist. Do you have any suggestions that don’t require me to bare my soul and talk about my daddy issues to some random person?”

“No.”

“Rats.” Emile chuckled at him.

“If it’s any consolation, they would have hated how you turned out. I mean they 100% would have still loved you and would have adored Virgil, but you’d get so many side-eyes over the dinner table. I mean, a child out of wedlock, Remy?”

“They’d have tried to get me to marry her,” Remy said. “Then I would have introduced them to her, and they would’ve said ‘fuck that.’ Do you think I could have gotten dad to say, ‘fuck that’?”

Emile giggled. “That would have been weird.”

Remy hummed in agreement. Then they petered off into silence. “I love you too Em.”

Want to read more? Click below!

Part 17

#sanders sides #emile picani #remy sanders #platonic remile #virgil sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #creativitwins #patton sanders #platonic moxiety #logan sanders #adriana writes #road trips and missing persons #road trips and everything in between #guns #murder mentioned #kidnapping

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Text

Dad Fluff: Ohana

A followup to this very short drabble about Mina drawing a family photo!

CW: Vague references to Danny’s past torture, but nothing specific. Brief referenced to enforced malnourishment/near starvation.

“You’re officially obs-… obsessing,” Nate says softly, dropping onto the couch next to Danny, leaning over and tilting his head to try and get a better look at his face. “L-Love, talk to me. You’ve been looking at th-th-the picture she drew for… longer than can be g-good for you.”

“I wasn’t in the picture,” Danny whispers, still holding it in his hands. Looking at the stick-figure attempts to draw Nate and Mina herself and even Toto, a ball of black and brown squiggles with eyes. “I don’t know why, why she wouldn’t-”

“Danny,” Nate says seriously, taking the paper from his hands and turning it over. “You are the p-p-picture. Look at you, here.” He points, tapping his finger against the drawing with a soft crackling sound as the paper shifts in his hand. “You’re so… you are s-s-such the center of her life that she didn’t have en, enough room to draw you if you didn’t have your very own s-side.”

Danny’s lips press slowly together, and he nods, but he doesn’t look convinced. “I never drew myself in, um, in the pictures, either,” He says, finally. “I used to draw Mom and Dad and Ryan on one side, and… and, um, then myself over in the corner or on another paper, because that’s how it felt-… sometimes I didn’t draw me at all…”

“Danny.” Nate set the drawing down entirely, laying it carefully on the coffee table, taking Danny’s hands in his. “Look at me, love. Please.”

Danny’s jaw is locked but trembling as he raises his eyes, slowly, to meet Nate’s.

They’re both older, and stronger, and Nate likes to think wiser, but Danny’s eyes are still the same. Bright sparkling blue, the only time in his life Nate has seen the color blue and called it warm. His freckles have deepened with time, rather than faded, and Nate lifts one hand to cup his face, rubbing a thumb slowly over an old scar on his cheek, feeling the shift in skin texture under his touch.

“This is n-not that family.” Nate keeps his voice gentle but firm, not quite insistent. Danny nods, but he’s scared, and the fear shows through even when he tries to hide it. He’s never been a good liar, and he’s a worse liar with Nate. “I kn-know we all bring things from our childhoods-… but we are not your parents. And Mina is not Ryan, and she isn’t y-you, either.”

“It just felt like-”

“Like you weren’t part of us,” Nate says softly, and Danny nods. Nate sighs and slides his hand down Danny’s neck, over the hints of scarring there, then curves his palm around Danny’s shoulder, pulling him close. Wavy red hair tickles against the side of his neck as Danny’s tension collapses. “This is your family, Danny. We w-worked hard to build it. We… we worked so hard to get the fucking ch-chance to build it. This is our f-family. And you’re her whole world.”

“She drew my scars. She drew them in bright red, they’re what she sees, it’s all anyone ever sees, is what h-he left on me-”

“Ssssshhhhh. I know that was h-hard to see.” Nate closes his eyes, tries to remember what he and Dr. Rosa had talked about when it came to helping Danny through his dark moments, encouraging him to keep talking, to pull himself back. “Did you h-hear what she called them?”

“My… my pretty marks,” Danny whispers, and Nate begins to run his thumb on Danny’s shoulder through his long-sleeved shirt, thinking of doing this in Alberta, feeling the shift of bones under his thumb when Danny had so little weight at all. Now there is a gentle roundness, strength he’d rebuilt in himself year by year. “She called them pretty marks.”

“There. She didn’t see them as bad, D-Danny, she just sees them as part of you. The same way she calls that weird thing on your hip your ‘blue spot’.”

“It… it is an actual blue spot on my hip, though,” Danny says doubtfully. “I stabbed myself with a marker at the last group home before Mom… It is a blue spot.”

“And your marks are p-pretty to her.”

“I just… it hurts, to see me not in the picture again, Nate.”

“I know. But she’s n-not you. She didn’t d-d-do that because she didn’t think you belonged with us, but because she c-c-couldn’t fit how important y-you were when the rest of us were in the way.” Nate’s efforts are rewarded with a nearly-silent huff of laughter from the man in his arms. “I know it’s h-hard not to bring it with you… I sometimes want to g-go to confession and I haven’t b-been Catholic since I was s-s-seventeen…”

“What’d you confess to?” Danny asks, curling more against him, and Nate sighs with a kind of relief as he pulls him closer. “Just… sucking dick?”

“Yes.”

Danny blinks and pulls back, looking up at Nate with surprise. “Did you actually? To a priest?”

Nate grins, and watches Danny’s internal battle between his need to still be sad over the injury in his mind and the idea of a sixteen-year-old Nate Vandrum talking about blowjobs in the confessional booth. “Couple of t-t-times. Some oth, other stuff, too. I was a really bad C-Catholic.”

“If you did it and still went to confession, you might actually have been a pretty good one,” Danny says, and the two of them break up into relieved laughter, Danny’s hands splaying over his face not to hide his scars but just to hide his smile.

“Danny, you are M-Mina’s family. You’re w-w-with her every day, all day-”

“-Except during Mom’s Morning Out, which, I really wish they’d change the name of that fucking group-”

“… let me finish, D-Danny. Mina wants for nothing. She is warm, and fed, and educated, and clothed, and l-l-loved.”

“I was most of those things,” Danny says, softly, but he’s coming back, Nate can tell. Pulling himself out of the spiral inside his mind, starting to feel more present, less like he slipped beneath the surface of a dark pool.

“You were some of th-them all of the t-t-time, but you never had them all, all of the t-t-time. And she does. You were the one who brought up adoption, you are the one who taught her the alphabet, you were the one to d-d-decide we weren’t going to watch those episodes I d-d-downloaded of Mister Rogers any longer and we’d let her watch s-s-something made in the last ten years-”

“I still watch them,” Danny says, softly. At Nate’s raised eyebrows, he shrugs. “Call it my confession. Forgive me, Father, for I have watched educational children’s programming from the eighties-”

“Hey, now. Some of us recovering Catholics like the ‘Forgive me, Father’ stuff, but… I’m n-n-not one of them.”

Danny flashes him a bright smile, and Nate feels an absurd sense of victory. He wants to raise his hands in triumph. He settles for pulling Danny in for a kiss.

“Sorry, Professor,” Danny murmurs against his mouth.

“Now, see, I l-like you calling me Professor…”

Danny laughs, softly. “Put your tie and jacket on and I’ll take it right back off you again, Professor Vandrum. But… I… I get it. She drew me bigger than everyone else because I am important. And she probably thought, since it’s the same paper, that it still counted as being all together…”

“Kids tend to d-d-draw themselves larger than they really a-are, compared to other people,” Nate says softly. “If they feel secure, and s-safe. You saw how big M-Mina drew herself.”

“Right. Bigger than you,” Danny says, blinking, looking back down at the paper. “And I was the biggest person.”

“I h-hate admitting this, but you’re the one she g-g-goes to first when she’s scared, or hurt, or has a n-nightmare or feels sick to her stomach. You’re the one she asks for juice and ah, applesauce. That’s all you, Danny. You’re not part of our family, you are our family. We built every single thing we have because of you. You chose me-”

“-… was made for you…” Danny murmurs, and then stops when Nate shakes his head.

“No, love. You chose me, and didn’t l-let go. You chose to say y-yes when I asked. You chose to agree when Mina’s birthmom liked us in our profiles. You chose Toto at the H-Humane Society, you chose every single thing we are. You built your own f-f-family, love, and she can’t picture us without seeing you as b-b-bigger than everyone else.”

Danny nods slowly, rubbing at his face, at his eyes, leaning over to rest his elbows on his knees. “Yeah… yeah, okay.”

“I know this is hard for y-you, love, and always will be, but… this is your family. You, and I, and Mina… and Toto… and, fuck, even your brother.”

Danny’s smile widens. “What do you think he’ll say if I send him a photo of what Mina drew and tell him she called them ‘pretty marks’?”

Nate shakes his head, leaning over to hold Danny’s face in one hand again, kissing his forehead, feeling the worry-wrinkles smooth under his mouth. “He’ll say, ‘it’s ab, about time someone other than Vandrum and I noticed you’re gorgeous’,” He says, softly.

Danny snorted. “He’s never called me gorgeous in my life or his.”

“Not to your face.”

Danny’s smile is infectious, and Nate pulls him in for a kiss knowing the tightrope has been walked, they’ve cleared the worst part of the shadows that threatened to sink their claws in - at least for now.

They’ll have this conversation again, in a hundred different ways, every time something pushes Danny towards the fears and worries built by a lifetime of having to earn the love that should have been his birthright. They’ll have it every time Danny is reminded or forced to relive years spent desperately trying to earn the mercy of a man hellbent on his slow, inexorable destruction.

But they have the foundation. They’ve laid the path, together. When one of them falters, the other holds the weight, until they can find their own way out. That is their marriage, and has always been, and will always be.

That is Danny’s family.

“It’s sm-small, and b-b-broken, but we made it ourselves,” Nate murmurs, and Danny lets out a peal of surprised laughter, loud enough that Nate shushes him, worried about waking Mina so soon after she’s fallen asleep.

“Did you just quote Lilo and Stitch at me?”

“No.” Danny raises an eyebrow, and Nate puts his hands up in surrender. “I quoted it to m-myself!”

“No, it’s fine, I like that movie, you know I do.” Danny slides arms around his waist, holding him tightly.

After a few beats of silence, Danny says softly, “Ohana means family, Professor Vandrum.”

“Family m-means nobody gets left behind.”

#whump #only not really #trauma recovery #dad fluff #epilogue #nate vandrum: a knight in soot-stained armor #daniel michaelson is a tall smol bean #mina vandrum #scarring #scars #tw: brief reference to past starvation #tw: brief reference to torture #reference to foster care #referenced past emotional abuse #recovery whump #recovering whumpee

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calumcest · 4 years

Text

there’s no time for running away now

so me exposing myself: yes i write fics that i never post. here is one of them that i’m pretty sure i wrote while completely out of my fucking mind at like 2am and have not re-read or edited so? absolutely cannot guarantee the quality of this fic in any way shape or form please do not hold me accountable for any of its content. unless you like it in which case please do hold me accountable because i require at least 3 doses of validation a day to survive. also this fic was literally me coming up with the final line and then writing 2.4k just to have a reason to have it

It’s three a.m., and Ashton’s awake.

On the surface, that might not appear to be a problem. And ordinarily, it wouldn’t be - ordinarily, Ashton would either roll over groggily, will sleep to come with every fibre of his being and maybe a quick prayer or two, or read something mind-numbingly boring like his urgent work emails to send him back to sleep. This, however, isn’t the most ordinary situation.

Ashton is awake because of Luke.

And, okay, that’s a bit of an unfair characterisation. It’s actually Ashton’s racing thoughts keeping him up, but since Luke’s the focus of said thoughts swirling in a huge cluster through Ashton’s mind, overlapping and interlocking so Ashton can’t pick them apart from the love love love that’s threading through them all, he’s going to blame it on Luke. And it’s not exactly Ashton’s fault he’s in love with Luke, is it? He’d challenge anyone to spend years crammed in tight spaces with Luke Hemmings and not fall in love with him.

(Michael and Calum don’t count, obviously. Ashton’s never seen two people so blinkered by love in his life, and he’s equal parts envious of their deep, easy love and grateful that they’re not his competition. He’s not sure he could take on Calum’s thoughtfulness if it came down to it.)

The real problem is that Ashton’s alone. They’re in a hotel, some shitty place in northern England that Ashton can’t even remember the name of, but they’d all been so ecstatic to find out that they had a room each (each!) that they hadn’t been able to bring themselves to care. They’d all hopped straight in the shower, washing off three days’ worth of sweat and grime, and then one by one dropped out of the group chat (Ashton had heard Calum’s door clicking open and shut, muted footsteps and muffled voices), until Ashton thought he was the only one left awake.

When Ashton’s squashed in a tour bus with God knows how many other six-foot-something men in their twenties, there’s nothing he wishes for more than a moment to himself. He sneaks the moments in when he can - a few minutes backstage, a few moments on the bus in the morning before anyone else has woken up, before Luke comes padding in with bleary eyes and a sleepy smile that makes Ashton’s stomach flip - but it’s never more than ten minutes, never enough time to feel the solitude. Now, though, he’s got nothing to do besides let the seclusion envelop him, listen to the silence and his tinnitus and let the ringing infiltrate his thoughts.

It’s been so long since Ashton’s been on his own, really been on his own - usually on hotel nights, he’s so exhausted and grateful for a proper bed he falls asleep fully-dressed and wakes up disoriented - that he’s kind of forgotten what it’s like. He’s forgotten the way that his thoughts start to squirm around in his mind, all clamouring for his attention, one following the other in such rapid succession that Ashton barely has the time to process them before the next one is already gripping him by the throat and forcing him to look at it. He’s forgotten how fucking overwhelming it is, how it makes his breath catch in his throat, his stomach churn, thinking himself in spirals that he can’t think himself out of.

The fact that Luke’s next door isn’t exactly helping matters. The hotel walls seem to be a product of a scientific experiment into creating materials that are one atom thick, so Ashton can hear every move Luke makes. He heard it when Luke padded into the bathroom for a shower, when Luke ambled over to the desk, heard the entirety of the news that Luke had on for about twenty minutes (apparently the Queen’s giving a speech tomorrow, and the EU are looking to pass a law about interest rates). He heard it when Luke got changed, heard his fucking jeans drop to the floor, heard him tossing and turning trying to get comfortable on the lumpy mattress. He can hear every creak of Luke’s bed, can almost make out Luke’s deep breathing if he really strains his ears, and it’s making it impossible not to think about him. Not that Ashton’s particularly good at ever not thinking about Luke. Luke Hemmings is definitely the majority shareholder of Ashton’s mind.

Now, though, at three in the morning, in a shitty hotel room in God knows where, a country that isn’t home and never will be, on his own with nobody there to ground him, it feels frightening, more overwhelming than Ashton could ever put into words. He’s so in love with Luke, so fucking in love with Luke, and it puts everything on a knife’s edge. His sanity, his friendship with Luke, his career - everything’s on the line because Ashton can’t say no to those baby blues.

At half-past, when Luke rolls over in bed and makes a little noise of contentment, duvet rustling as he moves, Ashton breaks.

“Wha’?” Michael says groggily when he picks up, sounding too sleepy to be annoyed.

“Are you awake?” Ashton says, as quietly as possible, gnawing at his lip.

“No,” Michael says, and then the line cuts out. Ashton hates him.

“Are you up?” Ashton asks, when Michael picks up again, on the first ring.

“Am now, dickhead,” Michael grunts. “‘s up?”

“Luke.” There’s a pause, then a rustling sound and quiet footsteps, and then the sound of a door locking.

“Ash, it’s three thirty in the fucking morning,” Michael says, and his voice echoes strangely, bouncing off the walls of what Ashton can only suppose is his en-suite, but it’s soft, understanding. He knows why Ashton’s still up, why he’s getting a call from across the hall at three-thirty in the morning.

“Yeah,” Ashton says, hoping Michael understands yeah, that’s why I’m this fucked up. Everything feels worse at night, when Ashton doesn’t have the bright light of day to convince himself that it’s not that bad, he’s not going to fuck everything up that badly. Michael sighs, and it’s tinny and a little staticky, and Ashton’s suddenly struck with the thought that Michael’s voice is being beamed up to a satellite thousands of miles away before being sent back to Ashton, even though he’s about five strides away. It makes him feel a little sick, that level of removal between the two of them. Michael’s a few metres and yet thousands of miles away.

“Ash,” he says gently, which is never a good sign from Michael. “You’ve got to stop torturing yourself like this.” Ashton bites at his thumbnail.

“‘m not torturing myself,” he mumbles.

“Oh?” Michael says, a note of scepticism in his voice. “You’re not lying in bed at three-thirty in the fucking morning thinking about how in love you are with Luke, convincing yourself you’re going to fuck everything up because of it?” Ashton hesitates.

“Fuck you,” he says eventually, and Michael doesn’t even retort, just sighs again, heavy and sad.

“I don’t like seeing you like this,” he says.

“You’re not seeing me,” Ashton says, a little childishly.

“You know what I mean.” Ashton does, and he hates it. It adds a sheen of guilt to all the other confusing emotions bubbling through him, that Michael’s got to deal with this, got to walk the tightrope of being between his two best friends.

“Sorry,” Ashton says, a little too meekly.

“Don’t,” Michael says sternly. “You’ve got to do something about it, Ash. You can’t spend the rest of your life stuck in perpetual limbo.” Ashton tears at a hangnail, relishing the way it stings when he rips it.

“Do what?” Ashton says. “‘s not like I can tell him. Could fuck everything up.” He hesitates, and then adds: “Could fuck your life up.”

“You think that matters more to me than your happiness?” Michael says, sounding genuinely incredulous, and Ashton loves him, absolutely fucking loves him, and absolutely doesn’t deserve him.

“I love you,” he tells Michael, who snorts, the sound echoing strangely in the bathroom.

“You’d better,” he says, but it’s fond. “C’mon, Ash, you’ve got to talk to him at some point. What the fuck else are you going to do? Sit around and wait for Luke to get married and have two-point-five kids?” Ashton blinks up at the ceiling, stomach churning at the thought of Luke with a faceless spouse and a white picket fence.

“Maybe,” he says, counting the stains on the white paint to give him something else to think about. “Doesn’t sound like the worst plan in the world.”

“No, Ash, it does,” Michael’s tinny voice tells him. “Christ. You’re such a fucking emotional masochist.” Ashton sighs, and casts his gaze down to the hem of his shirt, picking at a loose thread.

“What the fuck would I even say?” he says. It’s not like he’s never envisioned it; a grand declaration of love - always returned by Luke, of course - but in his fantasies, it’s a certainty that Luke’s going to feel the same way, so there’s none of that gut-wrenching, stomach-rolling uncertainty, no bile rising in his throat, no clammy hands and dry mouth.

“The truth?” Michael suggests. Ashton rolls his eyes.

“Mike, I can’t just waltz up to Luke and tell him I’m in love with him,” he says.

“Worked for me,” Michael says, and Ashton can almost hear him shrugging.

“That’s different,” Ashton says, because it is. Michael’s not a massive fucking overthinker.

“Is it?” Michael says, a little shrewdly. “I didn’t know if Calum felt the same way. But what else was I gonna do, wait around the rest of my life wasting my time on him? I needed closure either way. Would’ve spent the rest of my life making myself miserable living off hope otherwise.” Ashton knows he’s right, knows from the way his stomach sinks and his heart speeds up, but hates it, wants to rationalise why he doesn’t need to tell Luke, why he shouldn’t. “You’re overthinking it,” Michael says into the silence, like he knows exactly what’s going through Ashton’s mind right now, and Ashton scowls.

“Right, fuck me for overthinking something that could end my career,” he hisses, gripping the phone tighter than necessary because his hands are a little cold and clammy now at the thought of having to actually stand in front of Luke and say the words I’m in love with you.

“You’re such a fucking drama queen,” Michael says, tutting.

“Are you insane?” Ashton demands, incensed, and this is good, this is safe. He can redirect all the discomfort and anxiety into righteous anger; he can handle that. That’s well-worn territory with him and Michael.

“I’m not doing this, Ash,” Michael says sensibly, because he knows Ashton far too well for Ashton’s liking. “You can’t keep running from your feelings the minute they get too heavy for you to bear. ‘S never gonna get any better if you’re not letting yourself process it. It doesn’t go away on its own.”

“I know,” Ashton says hopelessly, because he does, and it’s what he’s been trying to run from. He knows he can’t live in this limbo forever, but he can’t bring himself to take a step in either direction. “Fuck, Michael. I don’t know if I can do it.”

“You can,” Michael says, gentle, encouraging.

“It’d fuck everything up,” Ashton says.

“It won’t,” Michael says. “You’re both mature adults.” He pauses, and Ashton knows they’re thinking the same thing, and then he adds: “Okay, well. You’re a mature adult. I’ll drag Luke into maturity kicking and screaming.” Ashton can’t help but huff out a laugh at that, chest warming as he hears the meaning behind what Michael’s saying - I’ll fight your corner. I’ve got your back.

“What if he doesn’t feel the same?” Ashton says, biting his lip.

“Then at least you know,” Michael says. “And you can start moving on.” Ashton swallows, ignoring the pain of the lump in his throat.

“I don’t want to,” he says, and it comes out a little strangled.

“I know,” Michael says. Ashton waits for something else, for him to justify it, but there’s just staticky silence from Michael’s end of the line.

“That’s it?”

“What, you want a deep, motivational speech as to why you should tell him?” Michael says. “I’m not going to give you that, Ash. Do it or don’t, it’s up to you. But you’ll never be able to rest, never have your mind to yourself, until you do it.” Ashton exhales shakily.

“Yeah,” he says, and his voice cracks, because God, it’s fucking terrifying, thinking that he might have to face Luke and say the words I’m in love with you in order to get his own sanity back. “You’re right.”

“I know,” Michael says, and Ashton huffs out a laugh to cover the flutters of panic in his chest. “Can I go back to sleep now?” Ashton blinks, and nods.

“Yeah,” he says again, voice a little steadier this time. “Sorry.”

“‘S okay,” Michael says through a yawn, and Ashton has to stifle a yawn of his own. Christ, he’s actually fucking drained. Overthinking should qualify as a sport. “Love you. Not as much as I love Calum, though.”

“Arsehole,” Ashton says, rolling his eyes, but he’s smiling. “Love you too. But not as much as I love Luke.”

“I’d fucking hope not,” Michael says. “Don’t want you to be fantasising about fucking me.” Ashton wrinkles his nose.

“I don’t want to fantasise about that either,” he says.

“So don’t.”

“I won’t.”

“Good,” Michael says, stifling a yawn. “Don’t fantasise about Calum, either.”

“Why the fuck would I fantasise about Calum?” Ashton wants to know.

“Hey,” Michael says, sounding a little affronted. “What the fuck are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying neither you nor Calum are exactly at the top of my fantasy list when Luke’s right there,” Ashton says.

“That’s fucking rude,” Michael tells him.

“What the fuck? You just told me-”

"Yeah, but on principle you should want to fantasise about us,” Michael interrupts. “You just aren’t allowed.” Ashton rolls his eyes.

“I’m not fantasising about anyone except Luke,” he says.

“I don’t want to know that.” Jesus Christ. Michael’s fucking impossible.

“Go to fucking sleep,” Ashton says, because arguing with Michael is a waste of time on the best of days, let alone at four in the fucking morning.

“I’ve been trying,” Michael says, and there’s rustling sounds as he gets to his feet. “Night, Ashton. Love you.”

“Night,” Ashton says, but Michael’s already hung up.

He plugs his phone in and rolls back over in bed, the emotional exhaustion starting to kick in, and he closes his eyes, ready to fall asleep, when from Luke’s room he hears a very, very clear-

“Night, Ash.”

Fuck.

taglist: @sadistmichael @callmeboatboy @clumsyclifford @angel-cal @tirednotflirting @cthofficial @tigerteeff @haikucal @queer-5sos @i-am-wierd-always @stupidfukimgspam @bloodyoathcal

if you’d like to be added to my taglist pls fill in this form!

#lashton #5sos fic #5sos fanfic #5sos fanfiction #5sos slash #thats probably the sneakiest britpop title i could possibly come up with #i'm actually dead proud of myself for that one #dithered about whether to put the line before in or not #but hopefully no one will read these tags and realise its britpop #lets be honest with ourselves am i going to post something with ZERO britpop references rn?#actually yes i am bc i did that with soulmate au #god my brand...who am i? letting the fucking team down #yes i've literally spent the entire time since answering that ask searching for a sneaky britpop lyric to put as the title #could have written a fkn sequel in that time but oh well!#i wonder if anyone actually reads these tags and is like bloody hell...glad i'm not in her brain #my tags are literally such an insight into how my mind works. or doesnt <3

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dahniwitchoflight · 4 years

Text

Homesquared Chapter 4

I cheated and some of my chapter 4 thoughts leaked into the chapter 3 post lol

Mostly about the pretty obvious Garden of Eden metaphor Dirk is for some reason setting up for himself and Rose as Adam and Eve

and I was about to say which begs the question of what the heck role Terezi is supposed to play as but then it’s very obviously as the Snake in the Garden

Terezi is very much just barely holding back some irritation towards how Dirk is treating Rose, but she’s also very intelligent and is aware of How much Dirk sees/knows and controls about their situation, so she’s probably leveraging her powers over Mind as much as possible in order to stay hidden in plain sight from Dirk’s narrative

and she does so in a way that is one of Dirk’s only blindspots - How Mind and other people have an effect in the determination of the Soul/Heart

By acting in a manner and doing things in a way that aligns with his expectations of her, he assumes and pigeonholes her into a type of character and bases his predictions of her behaviors off of that archtype, never expecting her to act outside it, and when he sees her actions and thoughts and desires all align within it, never questions that it might one day change or was different all along. Dirk’s never really been good at reading other people, can’t see without the lens of “how would I do it” blinding him to things he would never think to do, a trap that he keeps falling into with his friends and one he’s probably trying to overcome by becoming Ultimate God Person/combining all perspectives into his own and uncovering blindspots like that

But right now Mind is the darkest thing in is corner still and I think he sort of knows that as well

Terezi walks the crazy wiggled line boundary between their two Souls that defines who each of them is, as expertly as a person on a tightrope, never wavering until she reaches her destination, at which point she’ll leap off of that line and leave Dirk scrambling to try and calculate her next move/who exactly is she/what her goals are, since’s it won’t be following the clearly defined Heart boundary he’s used to drawing his plans by, so she’ll have to choose the perfect moment in order to entice Eve of the Apple of Revelation once more, heck, she might even do that so sneakily that she gets Adam to take a bite as well, since as soon as Rose bites it she’ll have an ally with her against Dirk.

For God created the Serpent originally as well, so thus why did he not imagine it’s betrayal and prevent it before it could have happened? Or else why did he create something he knew was going to betray? Eden was a paradise, so why intentionally create Evil in that paradise?

If Eve corrupted Adam and the Snake corrupted Eve, Who exactly corrupted the first Serpent? That’s something that the bible never goes into really, at least in Genesis, except to say that the Snake was punished for it’s action to forever crawl the earth eating the dust of man’s heel, punishing all snakes, as Adam and Eve’s punishment punished all humans

(Later I think the bible would try to say that the Snake was the Devil all along, but then why punish the Snake and all it’s progeny for it? If it was the Devil’s doing that undid Adam and Eve then why punish them for the Devil’s actions they would have no way of guarding against or now way of knowing it was a lie? Was it not God’s failure? The Walls of the Garden of Eden were supposed to protect his perfect creation afterall)

Gotta say though I really Rose’s design

I would call her Evil Rose, but she things she does she does in ignorance, not really out of evil, it would be like calling Eve evil for listening to the Snake when she was purposefully blinded to it’s intentions by her creation by God.

Once again we get this idea of Knowledge and Choice affecting eachother, Well I say again but really I’ve been watching RWBY a lot lately and the idea that you can’t make a real choice without real knowledge comes up a lot in it’s mythos and it is really applicable here

Terezi’s design as well is incorporating a lot more Red, she really dug those red shoes aesthetic but gave it her own twist, she’s got a red tie, her ever present red cane and glasses and even in that shot of her her horns look more red and solid as well, even though i know it’s just the lighting

So really digging the whole Terezi is the Apple/Snake in the Garden metaphor, she has also been having that tendency to just snack on random plants, intentionally for her own or Dirk’s unaware benefit or not, it’ll make it that much easier to her actions of later betrayal to be seen as “in character and therefore expected and not dangerous” instead of pre-meditated and actually dangerous, to him

And then they start waxing about their various philosophical babble, Dirk seems really determined to also use this to try and figure out that whole problem of how other’s affect the self, he’s trying at least, I think, in his own way. But not for a good reason, not so that he can have a real understanding of that, but because he wants to use it to guard his own self even further

He’s maybe not using Rose here as an equal player, but more like a wall to bounce his own ideas off of and test them, like using a neural learning AI to test ideas or an actual literal wall in a game of table tennis.

Heh, I got a chuckle out of the fact that Dirk’s answer to the Ship of Theseus problem is “why does we even have to remove and replace parts of it, why not keep the original pristine and eternal?”

because it’s funny how avoidant of the problem that answer is, man he really really is uncomfortable with the idea of changing the self in any way

“He's avoiding the question again. It's amazing how one can technically have the maximum amount of metaphysical personal awareness possible, and still not notice these sorts of things. “

SAYS LITERALLY YOU but honestly this is just more fuel to the idea that maybe he can make a genuine connection and understanding with a person if he can recognize how he and her are the same

“It's stuff like this that makes me wonder sometimes whether there's anything about myself that I'm missing. Then I throw that wonder in the garbage can and turn the incinerate setting on.”

but nah he’s still firmly denying that possibility, he’s almost actually equating his trauma of self erosion with the idea that making friends and understanding others changes the self in subtle ways as well

He can’t even stand the thought of his own close friends influencing him to be different in small subtle ways or adjusting his behavior for others because that STILL counts as a change of self that he didn’t authorize or choose.

Also can’t help but by be reminded of my wacky little fan made Gamma session I made forever ago by them using the name Delta-Detritus and basically be like alright, what if we do SBURB again but BETTER/worse this time?? Which is essentially the thread that most Homestuck fix it fanfiction tends to go towards

Though I am curious now

We got A/Alpha for Alternia which is based of off “Alternate” introducing the trolls as an alternate race to Human Earth

B/Beta for Beforus which is based of off “Before” introducing the planet of trolls that came before the first group

And then Earth C, now, there isn’t a letter C, the third in the greek alphabet is actually Γγ Gamma, (and the fourth is ΔδDelta)

So I wonder what “name” Earth C really has?

It feels like it should either start with C OR with GA, as Alternia starts with the AL of Alpha, Beforus starts with the BE of Beta and same with Deltritus and Delta

As as “Another for Earth” Gaia isn’t a terrible option all things considered, now you just have to make it sound like a word which describes it’s use to the narrative

It’s is a very split place, having the two timelimes Meat and Candy associated with it, as well it does feel extremely mercurial in nature, being a sort of crosswords between Homestuck and Homesquared proper, and really exists in a place between stories, an ephemeral epilogue of sorts

really a merger of Gaia and Gemini feels the most appropriate here, like Gamini, also the word mini stands out in there as well, knowing that this Planet is sort of on a lesser status compared to the other three since it’s not going to be the birthplace of a session, also has the word Game in it

But then people will wonder why it doesn’t begin with a C since it still is called Earth C so *shrug*

Honestly C K and G sounds are all very similar in the tongue, so maybe it’s both Camini and Gamini at the same time OH FUCK CA AND GA, ONE HAS CALLIOPE ONE HAS GAMZEE? SHIT IM ONTO SOMETHING (no im not)

I like Camini now better, it comes from a place of Gamma/Gamzee/Game/Gemini but ends up being more about the twinned Ca’s that were used to, Caliborn and Calliope and fits with the establish Earth C theme

So there you go, Earth C’s actual planet name should be Camini

which also works because:

Camini

home stove/furnace

smelting/foundry furnace, forge

vent (underground fires)

according to the latin language this word also has multiple meanings and many Irons in the Fire, I think the fandom will appreciate the name haha

Yeah both races are definitely going to both be playing one game of SBURB, despite what Dirk is intending, the pic does make it really clear

There’s something to say how Dirk seems to be represented by Purple and Rose by Orange in this here and then how all of the cave is a backdrop of that same purple.

Look at even the controllers on the machine having purple and orange knobs, even being solely on Dirk’s side of the image

I guess Dirk intends himself to be the force behind Derse, since that’s the force that always “wins” and Rose fitting in her place as the ultimate loser (since of course Dirk will want to win his own game) but also to be like Skaia the force of Prospit

So Dirk intends to be a whisperer like a horrorterror, choosing to manifest his influence that way, while Rose will give visions to her race like Skaia?

makes sense honestly

but again even with the themes of duality, the theme of the trio is bright and center in that piece of ultimately technology, the third influence hidden unseen in the furthest corner behind the curtain of snakelike tubes and wires that Dirk will not expect to interfere, or even have the capability to interfere, Terezi

heck it’s even in the buttons next to the controls being colored red blue and green

there’s so much duality in homestick with destructive red and creative green but then there’s also always been that mercurial breathy blue as the third

God, tell me that doesn’t look like a baby proto horrorterror

I can hear it raging it’s revenge against it’s cruel human creators even as I type

No wonder they become associated with destruction, they know theyre the pawns of two heartless cruel god children playing at life like it was a game

Rose you MUST KNOW how bad this is, it’s not a theoretical discussion anymore, that things exists and is alive and has feelings and you did it to that

and that thing is technically a Dirk too

Is this how Dirk get’s his revelation? Or downfall? As his Heart is unwittingly invaded by the horrified cacophanous screams of his grotesque tortured progeny crying out for his blood?

His end unintentionally ending up as the thing he feared most? Inner self destruction caused by his own sharp and bloody splinters turned and pointed inward, tearing himself apart with the pieces of his own Soul? Caused by his own Hubris?

I will say typing that all out is pretty good

I’m just sad the same will probably happen to Rose too though ): Maybe she’ll make careful more humane species? Something that has the potential to exist and be happy as it’s own creature while Dirk just creates monstrosities forever in conflict with Rose’s race?

They’ll each be the master of their own eventually destinies I suppose but Homestuck seems to have a good track record so far of the Ultimate Female Creator being out to protect the happiness of the children that exist in her creation while the Ultimate Male God just ends up destroying everything in his

#Homesquared #Homestuck^2 #Dirk Strider #Rose Lalonde #Terezi Pyrope #long post

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akp-1327 · 4 years

Text

prompts list #2

Hi! Here are even MORE dialogue prompts to get the creative juices flowing.

There aren’t any specific genres like my other one but I did try to use the same three categories (fun, romantic, angst). The link to that list is riiiiight here!

Enjoy these 200 prompts! :)

"All you had to do was follow the instructions."

"We're stranded!"

"Don't touch that!"

"Is that…?" → "Yes."

"Well, when life gives you lemons…"

"Twenty minutes of my precious life was just spent making this contraption that doesn't even work!"

"That's gonna leave a mark."

"Forget what just happened, okay?"

"My entire nervous system is on fire."

"I will not be swimming in that disgusting pool."

"C'mon, be a fearless warrior prince/princess for once!"

"I'm in love with...ice cream."

"Clean up on aisle seven!"

"Mosquito bites suck."

"Excuse me? Do you talk to your mother with that mouth?"

"Please hurry. I really need to use the bathroom."

"Ow! Stupid freaking corner!"

"Why do we have to go now?"

"Oh my God, you better not--"

"Get down from there!"

"I wish I wasn't allergic to cats. They're the purr-fect companion." → "Please stop before I smack you."

"My future kids will see this picture so I am not wearing that."

"Everything is free!"

"Would you like a drink for your troubles?"

"HOT! FIRE IS HOT!"

"Oh, please. Give me a break."

"Name off the first thing that comes to your mind, go!"

"I'm so bored."

"Alarm clocks were such a stupid invention!"

"I'm...reading?"

If you cook there will be nothing to eat; you'd burn it all."

"I'd be nothing without my harmonica."

"Are we going to a bar or not?"

"I'm rolling my eyes at you in spirit, then."

"All I wanna do is dance!"

"I’m quite sarcastic if you couldn’t tell already.”

"Awww, hi there, little buddy!"

"What is that thing?"

"I triple dog dare you."

"Crisis avoided!"

"Why did you text me when you're sitting right next to me?"

"Contrary to popular belief, money does, in fact, grow on trees."

"Stop right there!"

"It's so loud in here!"

"My air guitar skills are literal fire."

"There's shampoo in our soap dispenser. Freaking. Shampoo!"

"Hand me that blanket, please."

"How many languages do you speak?"

"You've never gone fishing?"

"Ha ha, can’t you see how hard I'm laughing?"

"No! My phone is only at one percent!"

"Puppy!"

"They're obsessed with you...in a creepy way."

"Do a flip!"

"That's what she said!"

"Why are razors so sharp?"

"Ouch, my poor feelings."

"Smells like a doctor's office in here."

"I love the rain!"

"You did not just compare Eminem to Mozart."

"Uno!"

"You could choose anything in this store...and you chose that?"

"Cottage cheese is delicious!"

"Attack!" → "Retreat!"

"I love...refrigerators!"

"Sing me a song."

"Pick up your own trash! I am not your maid."

"That's a beautiful dress."

"Stop making those stupid dirty jokes!"

"Try me."

"Okay, okay, I get your point."

"It's not mad science."

"We came full circle."

"Can I borrow your shirt for a second?"

"That's going to be really hard to clean, you know that, right?"

"You want to live in Hawaii, huh?"

"Wait, stop-- no!"

"Wanna go get milkshakes?"

"That was a waste of my money, time, and patience."

"That's a huge problem!"

"Did you just say that you don't like popcorn?"

"Don't tell me you have a 'Live, Laugh, Love' sign."

"Hey, look at that nice car."

"Not today, Satan!"

"Can I offer you a piece of pie in these trying times?"

"Ew! Get it off me!"

"I always forget how nice it is to just lay on the couch and relax."

"Throwing a football is easy, though!"

"What happened to your hair?"

"That's an...interesting outlook."

"Wanna know what really irks me? Those pointless life hack videos on Instagram."

"I don't work out for fun, you know."

"He/She/They should be here right about...now."

"Don't eat that."

"Yes! I'll take it!"

"Is it just me or is it really hot in here?"

"Do you think it's cursed?"

"Sunburn hurts."

"Let's play the classics like Elvis and Prince, maybe a little bit of Queen?"

"Is that car coming this way?"

"Snowball fight!"

"That's why I'm such a good actor/actress."

"Can you sit still for five minutes?"

"It's a...a...wait, what is it again?"

"You're so sweaty."

"Hot chocolate?"

"I don't particularly enjoy sushi."

"Déjà vu, maybe?"

"Open that door!"

"It's my way or the highway, buckaroo."

"Did we win?"

"This show is really annoying but I can't stop watching it..."

"Stalker, much?"

"WEDGIE!"

"What's your favorite band?"

"That movie sucked.”

"Why’d it have to be today?”

"Go get coffee?"

"Is that a skateboard?"

"Why are you running?"

"Can I see?”

"Do it and I’ll hurt you.”

"I was talking to myself...sorry.”

"Well, now we know how the show ends...”

"We learn something new each and every day!”

"But first, hot chocolate.”

"You can have my slice!”

"You got this!”

"That attitude may be your doom…”

"For the last time, earth is not flat!”

"Honesty is what can make a relationship thrive.”

"Was that a grandfather clock?”

"Let’s go for a coffee run.”

"Don’t forget to write that down.”

"Some people just want to watch the world--” → “Learn!”

"Do you play an instrument?”

"Just do your best.”

"Oh my God, they’re helpless!”

"We’re making history!”

"Give me your strongest roar, mister lion!”

"Cue the sad trombone.”

"Don’t take candy from random people!”

"Clowns? Seriously?!”

"What’re we supposed to do now? Sit here and photosynthesize?”

"Slow and steady wins the race…”

"Too! Fast!”

"Remember when you said that you only needed to buy one thing?”

"Rewind! I didn’t see!”

"Speak up, please.”

"I haven’t been the same since.”

"I’m never satisfied.”

"Just wait a second, okay?”

"Oh wow, that’s what I call eye candy…”

"Is this some kind of smart person joke that I’m too dumb to understand?”

"Get back here!”

"Nice job, (name), I’m proud of you.”

"At least you’re happy now.”

"I still need to find a present for (person)’s birthday.”

"That was disgusting.”

"Is it supposed to taste this bland?”

"We should write a story.”

"Wait, you have a scrapbook?”

"What we’re about to do is illegal!”

"That bird is giving me a dirty look…”

"Why do pillows hurt so much?”

"Giddyup!”

"That’s such a sob story. Can’t you see my invisible tears?”

"Check this out!”

"I never want to do that again!”

"I’m falling asleep just looking at you.”

"What’s with the glitter?”

"Stop yawning, for God’s sake!”

"Why’re you so sassy?”

"The roads are scary at night!”

"How about we ride into the sunset like in all of those old cowboy movies?”

"What’s the problem?”

"How could you not be excited for it?”

"Let’s make soap!”

"Instant ramen, anyone?”

"One cup isn’t enough!”

"I didn’t think you’d actually show up.”

“My hands may be small but that doesn’t mean that they don’t have the ability to punch you.”

"Surprise!”

"I’m just trying to braid your hair!”

"It’s like we’re walking a tightrope.”

"Bold of you to assume that I need help.”

"I really like your...pants.”

"Why did you step on my toe?”

"What time is it?”

"No! That’s not how this game works!”

"Who are you?”

"That was really smooth...”

"We need to turn this spark into a flame!”

"Well, essentially…um...”

"Can we just go outside?”

"We’re all stupid geniuses.”

"That couch is calling my name!”

"Oh, how lovely.”

"I haven’t been to the zoo in years!”

"Plot twist!”

Phew...that was a lot. But I hope you have some inspiration! :)

#writing prompts #dialogue prompts #writing #anything else related to writing i guess #i hate tagging #:)

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channelmono · 4 years

Text

I dunno if I have a lot to say, but I figured that give how many people follow me, I wanna share some tips on preserving mental health during these chaotic times

If you follow me on Instagram, you might have noticed my last story QA, which was a bit of a survey just to see how some of you lovely monitors are feeling, because I know the world in general has been stressed lately for obvious reasons. The elephant in the room is that we as individuals are all walking a tightrope of staying up-to-date about the future and how to maintain our physical health while also trying to preserve a sense of productivity and activity to sustain our mental health, the latter of which I’m noticing being especially strenuous for many of you, likely because this prolonged period of uncertainty and anxiety is highly unfamiliar. I want to disclaim right away: I am not a doctor, I am not a psychologist trained in extensive therapy who knows how to guide each and every one of you to your healthiest behaviors. However, I still wish to still help you with some advice. I do wish to see you as my friends, and as my friends, I want to ensure that you are happy and healthy. I already have a history of self-isolation, and without getting too in-depth of the exact details, this involuntarily hermit-like lifestyle we’re all being encouraged to ascribe to has been my way of living for the past several years (the involuntary-ness included). I’ve become much more acclimated to not just being alone, but stuck in a place of residence with little directive or seeming control of my own future, with a long history of trying to discern of not just what to do with my life in general, but just getting through the day-to-day. I want to discuss that day-to-day, because the month(s) away we have from returning to a normal world again is still comprised of many, many days, and if I can’t come up with a surefire long-term plan for how to deal with a future we are all in unfamiliar territory of dealing with, I can at least suggest a few low-cost stepping stones to helping you take in each day a lot easier, and hopefully help lift a bit of the collective burden over however long we may be like this. 1) DON'T LET YOURSELF GIVE UP. I feel like this is a bit of an obvious tip that might come across as “are you feeling sad? Just be happy!”, but hear me out. One of the biggest sources of human (or human-equivalent) stress is the feeling that one has no control over their life. The period where I fussed incredibly hard about the fate of my future as I was first condemned was one of the darkest, most exhausting parts of my life, as were all the times I had done before. It wasn’t merely that I was so ashamed of my failures, but it was the fact that I’d constantly and semi-consciously associate it with my entire being, to the point where I couldn’t make a casual joke in a non-depressed context that didn’t end with a side remark of how I wanted to die (now that I explained it without context… yikes.) Eventually, there was a eureka moment for me where I had enough of being tired. I’m not sure exactly what triggered it -- perhaps it was just dealing with the banality of the isolation, perhaps it was just me thinking more about how I mentally hurt myself and what I could do to stop, perhaps it was me simply deciding to find professional psychological help for it -- but whatever the case, I realized that even if the world could do bad things to me, I wanted to stop doing things that would hurt myself, as not only was being good to myself the least that I could do, but it also helped me forge a modicum of very real power for my self-esteem, giving that first boost to kickstart my life again (in part by starting this channel and making new online friends!) This wasn’t a solution to get rid of all my outside problems, but rather a means to help accept that things would be tough, but I could still live with them. Challenges will need to be faced, and there will be failures because that’s how life can be sometimes, but it also helped me better comprehend that there will also be victories, because that’s ALSO how life can be sometimes! I can’t say for sure how each and every one of you will be able to help yourself realize that negativity, hopelessness, and cynicism are not the only means to approach an uncertain and stressful future. Perhaps you already realized it! Perhaps you were in the process of realizing it but the articulation of my journey may give some guidance. Perhaps you still need some more time and thought to think about it. But whichever way, I implore you to consider that this future is not solely one to be defeated by, but one which you can fight to be happy in… and win. 2) GIVE YOURSELF A DAILY RHYTHM. One of the biggest things I see people complaining about is how without their usual daily schedule with work or school, their mental acuity is going haywire and it’s difficult to get things done. There are many reasons for why our brains are reacting to the situation the way they do: a bunch of collective trauma surrounding the pandemic putting our brains on edge for what to expect next, stress making us unable to register complex tasks, our inner survival instinct diverting away our ability to think about personal minutiae, etc. The human brain is a fickle thing doing its best to cope with the trauma it’s presented with, and first and foremost, it’s important to be patient with yourself. Going back to the “how to take on the day-to-day”, let’s talk about schedules. The truth is that many of us crave at least a mild semblance of structure and compartmentalization, and a big factor for why our minds are getting sloggy is because we’ve lost the ones we followed, mostly ones imposed onto us by our professions, and were wholly unprepared to figure out a compensation plan (as many of you students learning via Zoom conferences are aware). The practical trick I have to help remedy this is a pretty basic-on-paper one: seek out your own schedule. Speaking from my own experience, the daily grind into this miasma of a future becomes less cumbersome once you intuit what you actually define as “the daily grind”. This is not to say you need to become a rigid, Clock King-esque fanatic who plans every action by the minute, as simply understanding what you do and what you WANT to do will be of help. For me, I schedule my alarm clock to go off at 8:30. Every day I get up and make coffee or tea along with breakfast for myself and The Master. My current daily priorities are messy janitorial duties and Animal Crossing, while my personal hobbies that I’d reserve to my free time include filming content, playing video games, watching movies or Youtube, cooking, or going outside to jog. Every week or so, I go out for groceries. I do my best to go to bed and sleep before midnight. Of course, this is just MY schedule, but this is how rudimentary it can get while still giving me a sense of fulfillment when I do pass the time as I do accomplish my tasks. There are many ways to go about it, but really, one of the simplest ways to recognize them in your life is just write it out. Actually articulate it into just a really simple list that you have to transfer from mind onto paper/digital text. This is especially recommended if additional tasks or changes to your life occurs: write it down so you can remember everything! And allow yourself to do it! This is not to say you should be worrying constantly about how productive you are, as the goal is not to define yourself by how much you accomplish per day, but rather a way to give yourself that sorely needed daily rhythm we all miss, while allowing you to reward yourself when you hit your goals. And like every plan, it doesn’t need to be flawless -- there will be times where we need to relax and take a break. There might be emergencies to deal with. There may be times where things are so overwhelming where it’s like “Yknow what? I don’t wanna do anything today.” And that’s okay. On a related note: Something I’d like to place importance on with my schedule is my sleep. As someone who has experienced long periods of miserable exhaustion in my life, I cannot overstate just how important and cathartic a good, consistent sleep schedule is. I’m not joking: the night when I stopped being “insomniac” by going to bed tired but staying on my phone up until 2 AM, and instead actually went to bed at 11-ish, I woke up feeling the best I had in years. Exhaustion no longer felt like a necessary, expected burden. I felt legitimately well-rested, and discovering that I could freely feel things that weren’t depression was almost epiphanic (if that’s a word lol). I know that going to sleep and waking up on a consistent time of day might sound chore-like to many of you night owls, and there may be other concerns at play like actual insomnia, but I implore you to at least consider giving yourself a consistent nightly rhythm as well as your daily one. Being exhausted is an easy way to get stuck in your own head, and if you’re thinking dark thoughts and lack the energy to force yourself out, you can be in trouble. Don’t underdo or overdo it that you still feel like crap when you wake up. Be honest to yourself. Good sleep can be incredibly rewarding in ways that you might not even believe until you experience it for yourself.

#channel mono #no signal studio #mental health #quarantine #quarantine life

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