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aceforwhatevenisthis · 1 year

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Band of Brothers - A Good Omens Fic

Summary: “I have no intention of fighting in any war.”

But that’s now.

Then, in the midst of the cracking bombshells and the ringing bullets? War didn’t -- and will never -- care about your intentions, whether human, angel, or demon.

(World War I AU?)

Word count: 7.9k

Tags: World War I, Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Angst and Hurt/Comfort except the comfort is really minimal, Military, Not Beta Read, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Author's philosophical musings, Demons, Switching perspectives constantly, Hell is Terrible, Heaven is just as bad but more distant, Serious Injuries

Author's Notes: I dug this up from my old drafts and it was close enough to being done so I did. Apologies if the history and/or medical stuff is outrageously wrong; I am trying my best and this was written for fun. Also, general disclaimer that a lot of the things said/done here are not reflective of my views on war (I despise the principle of it, I am very much a pacifist) but are necessary for the environment/plot of the story.

Be warned that people do die and there might be some triggering incidents (please tell me if you want something specifically tagged). Generally, warnings for: violence, chemical weapons, death, medical injuries (not described in too much detail but yeah).

Anyways, enjoy

Also on AO3!

Aziraphale had been called to service, almost entirely because he seemed able-bodied enough for the French government to draft into the army. He was in no written records but a couple of weeks or so into the start of the fighting, Aziraphale would get the strangest of glances from older men in the streets of Paris, so he decided to sign up for the MHS where they took one look at him and thought him a capable-enough physician. It took Aziraphale some amount of effort to convince himself that his new military service was not because he had received an inked letter from Heaven a few days prior.

So off he went, riding in the back of a crowded truck, fitted in a bright blue coat and a pair of blue trousers — a stark contrast to his preferred palette. It was, however, somewhat refreshing to wear such colorful clothings again after so many years since his last grand ball.

A sharp whistle called him to attention and the truck stopped. Aziraphale could see the gleam of eagerness and pride in the eyes of the young men around him. To die for your country, serving with dignity and courage, that was the greatest honor any young man could earn. Aziraphale had seen many wars in his time on Earth — had partaken in many as well, this was no different — and every time he couldn’t help but send a quick prayer for the men he encountered.

But as they left the truck, joyous chatter among the newly-deployed soldiers, Aziraphale frowned at the sight of men digging — trenches? Never in his years of military service had he ever seen soldiers having to dig into the battlefield like such. Aziraphale shook his head, warring off his worry. Perhaps just a simple evolution of warfare, as it tends to happen with humans. The medical tents were but a stroll away from the trenches and so Aziraphale slipped away and got to work. Already there were soldiers in need of attention and there wasn’t a moment to waste.

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

Three weeks later and the trenches were miles along, eventually running throughout all of Europe.

A month and the stench became unbearable. One week later and the soldier’s boots were sogged all the way through. It didn’t take long for their feet to rot away.

Nearly four months and Aziraphale thought he could get used to the sight of corpses littered along the battlefield, in the trenches, in the medical tents. But the men weren’t smiling anymore and Aziraphale considered himself lucky that he wasn’t on the frontlines. The men who came back alive from there were the ones who at first wouldn’t cry, but at night Aziraphale saw them scream into the night void and curl in on themselves. Those were the ones he prayed for the most.

It was nearly three in the morning when Aziraphale paused from washing dirty rags and saw one of the men from the frontlines kick at a tree and then slide his back down the trunk, his head between his shaking knees. The young soldier stayed like that until the sun rose over the horizon, lighting up the dark patches of blood blanketing the destroyed ground around all of them. The next time he saw the young soldier, a mere two days later, Aziraphale was helping the stretcher-bearers support the weight of the soldier’s cold body.

The wrong end of a German machine gun was the last thing the young soldier saw. Aziraphale made sure to personally pass the news to the soldier’s secret lover, who was recovering in a hospital cot from a delicate amputation.

“Sir Doctor,” the lover choked out in French, reaching for Aziraphale’s sleeve. “Please tell me he went quickly.”

Aziraphale fought the urge to grit his teeth. With a warm plastic smile he’s come to perfect in his months reassuring dying soldiers, he said, “Yes, he did.”

The lover nodded and clutched a small green diary to his chest. Aziraphale resigned quietly and sought out other patients in need in the tent.

Within two weeks, the secret lover would be sent home. Nearly fifty years later, Aziraphale would see him again, guiding his hand as they wrote a memoir for the young soldier and his secret lover, a green diary nearby that was in near perfect condition. It would take nearly another fifty years for the memoir to reach the public. It was the one of the only books Aziraphale ever bought various copies of to sell in his bookshop, because it would be after the war that he made sure no soldier would be forgotten to the harsh desert sands of time.

But that’s later, and this is now.

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

Crowley lounged atop his bed in the barracks, surrounded by his fellow soldiers. He smiled as he placed down his cards on his rough mattress. “I believe that,” he pointed to the pile of makeshift tokens on the ground, “is mine, boys.”

Hans threw down his cards and nearly banged his head on the wooden ceiling. “You cheated!” he shouted in German.

“I absolutely did not,” Crowley answered with feigned outrage. He looked down at the bed beneath his own. “Did I, Erich?”

Erich snorted, gathering some cards and shuffling them. “You always do, Crowley. I don’t know why anyone’s surprised anymore.”

“Rematch!” called out Hans. He then promptly cringed when some half-asleep soldiers at the other side of the bunker glared at him. More quietly, he said, “I’ll keep an eye on you this time.”

Crowley laughed and resettled back into his mattress. “Yeah, I think I’m done for the day, boys.”

“I’ll wager my portion of tomorrow’s breakfast.” Crowley could feel the smirk on Hans’ face.

The demon let out a deep breath and shifted, rubbing his eyes. “Erich, you think they’ll give out something good for breakfast tomorrow?”

Erich put the cards away and tucked the tokens under his mattress. “I think Crowley’s saying ‘no,’ Hans.”

“Bullcrap! You’d never give up a wager, would you, Crowley?”

“Contrary to popular belief,” Crowley said while pulling his hat down his face, “I do have some form of self-control.” He lifted the hat a little to give Hans a once-over. “Unlike some people.”

“Hey!”

“Honestly, Hans, get some sleep,” muttered Erich as he rolled over on his mattress. “Save it for the frontlines.”

Hans looked at Erich and then at Crowley, before deciding to look at the ceiling and lay down properly on his bed. “What do you think they’re like? The frontlines?”

Erich shrugged. “Didn’t you just get off from the frontlines, Crowley?”

“They’re not worth it. Not one bit. Just a death sentence, really.”

“Isn’t that the point of it? To die for your country?” asked Hans. Crowley looked at him and only saw curiosity in the young man’s dark eyes; a genuine interest in debate.

“Could be. But then again, I’ve always chosen to save my own skin.” And I’ve chosen the angel. Only him.

Hans hummed. “If I die, would it hurt?”

Erich sat up in his bed. “I’d imagine it does, don’t it?”

“You wouldn’t like it. What comes after I mean. Don’t get your hopes up,” said Crowley, pulling his hat further down his face. He imagined that judging by the quietness that the conversation was decidedly over.

Still, Crowley didn’t make any move to remove his hat from his face. From under his darkened glasses, his eyes shut as he tried to chase the peacefulness and emptiness of sleep. After a while, Erich and (eventually) Hans drifted off to slumber.

Come morning, Hans would be sent off to the frontlines and a new soldier would take his bed. Johann was a pleasant young man — the textbook definition of beautiful German youth — but there was the way in which he saluted his commanders, as if he’s putting his entire body behind every salute. Whenever a commanding officer would speak to him, he’d seem like he was hyperfocusing his entire attention to that one conversation, like nothing else mattered. They’d tell him to run at the daily exercises and he wouldn’t question anything; he’d just run until he’s told to stop.

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

Erich threw a small rock at Johann’s bed. “Hey schön, what’re you always smiling for?”

Johann lightly threw the rock back. “Piss off! Go to sleep.”

“If you’re looking for a medal, I don’t think the General would ever give you one. You talk too much for his liking.” Erich shook his head and continued to stack a pile of rocks next to his mattress.

“What medal? You can’t get one without coming back from the frontlines.”

“Well, there’s nothing else worth smiling over. Not in this bloodbath.”

Johann considered this for a long moment. Finally, he said, “Crowley, why do you think I smile?”

Crowley did his best to look uninterested, picking at his dirt-filled nails. “For my money, I’d say you’ve got a nice partner at home.”

Johann laughed and nearly fell off his bed. “I wish!”

“Alright, now you’ve got to tell us,” said Erich, restarting his rock pile, this time adding in the extra challenge of making one vertical pile upwards.

Johann put a finger to his lips and his eyes smiled at them conspiratorially. He beckoned both of them to lean closer. “I’ve got word from a friend in the third division that we’ve got those Russian bastards on the run at the Eastern front.”

“Spectacular,” said Crowley mockingly, rolling his yellow eyes.

“The Deutschland is going to win this war and we can all go home, celebrated as war veterans who defended their country with pride.” Johann punched the air near Crowley, as if reaching for his arm. “Surely you’ve got your own nice German girl back home to impress, Crowley.”

Johann was posed as he waited for any reaction, unbearingly proud of himself for divulging this information. Crowley scoffed. “Bullshit.”

“I’m sorry?” asked Johann, clearly deflating.

“That’s bullshit. If we were winning,” Crowley looked at Johann, “they wouldn’t need anymore soldiers at the frontlines, would they? But they keep transferring more and more, while less and less come back.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Go on all you like with your terrible rumors. It doesn’t change what’s going on. Don’t slack off because you think it’s over. You’d just get yourself killed.”

“Didn’t—” Erich started, hesitantly, “Didn’t you sign up voluntarily, Crowley?”

Crowley frowned and lazily stretched in his bed. “Nah. I’ve got orders. You think anyone would want to sign up for this mess?”

“Well, why don’t you just leave then?” Johann asked with a defensive tone, tensing his shoulders. “Clearly you’ve got no interest in defending your country!”

Crowley smiled. Just by Johann’s normal behavior Crowley could tell the soldier was a ready model. The carefree attitude, the free spirited mentality, the “patriotism,” all of it was perfect. He just needed to push a couple of buttons. “I could just leave, can’t I? I mean, the easiest way to go is through the frontlines, though. Not sure I’d call that a pleasant departure.”

Erich was eerily silent (though Crowley could definitely see the smile in his eyes) and Johann’s mouth had dropped. It was late in the night and while most soldiers were sleeping in the barracks, no one was in a deep slumber. Everyone could hear Crowley, and that was a dangerous thing to hear.

Erich was the first to break the silence. “You’re right.”

“What?” Johann sputtered. Crowley craned his neck to stare at Erich.

“Crowley’s right. Why do we need to die for a country that’s losing the war we’re dying for?” Erich was smiling, as if amused. Crowley couldn’t help but think that it’s not right for kids their age to be so at peace with death. It’s okay for him, he’s thousands of years old, but human kids with their whole life ahead of them? Out of the question.

“Hold on a second! You volunteered too!” Johann pointed at Erich.

“Yeah, because I’m stupid kid.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Well,” Erich shrugged, “You can join us, if you’d like.”

Johann blanched and Crowley eyed Erich questionably. “ Us? ”

“Yeah, you, me, and Johann here. Three men, not like they would miss us. I mean, they already replaced Hans. And don’t act like you’re not ready to leave too, Crowley.”

“Absolutely not!” Johann shouted. A couple of men besides them were further roused from their sleep. “We’d be a disgrace. Traitors! The Deutschland would fall to the hands of those French and English bastards!”

Erich shrugged again and laid back on his bed. “Do what you want, then. I bet you’d be glad if you end up in the frontlines. Hell, I bet you’d beg for the promotion . You can get yourself a nice shiny medal, if you really tried.”

Johann growled but didn’t move. Instead, he rolled over, his back to them.

Crowley spent the rest of the night trying to convince himself that this was just a simple temptation, that he was most definitely not trying to convince kids to commit treason, that Hell ordered him to do it. He was a demon, and demons don’t help pathetic human kids cheat death. That would be Nice. Crowley was not Nice.

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

It was a pleasant day, well into a graciously warm April, and Aziraphale mindlessly redressed a soldier’s wounds. The wounds themselves weren’t far too grave (not anymore) and so the task was simple enough after sufficient practice, going through the motions. Aziraphale hummed as his hands cleaned the rags, tying off loose ends. The soldier looked at him with curious brown eyes.

“Why aren’t you out there? In the frontlines?” said the soldier. “I’ve seen you carry other men. You’re incredibly strong.”

“Ah, well,” said Aziraphale as he cleaned the dirt off the soldier’s recovering leg, barely brushing over the sore wounds. The soldier hissed. Aziraphale continued, “I’ve never been much of a fighter, in all honesty.” Not lately. He was once. That was a long time ago.

The soldier nodded. “That’s respectable. I think lots of boys here quickly realized they aren’t much of a fighter.” He chuckled darkly and pointed to his hurt leg. “Then they end up like me.”

Boys — that’s what they were. Simple teenagers expected not to run away or give in when a gun is pointed at their heads, held by a cruel hand ready to shoot, only because if they don’t then they’d end up with a bullet in their own head. Aziraphale remembered how simple warfare used to be, with honor and dignity and respect for the opposing side, split by a green battlefield where you can see clearly who it is you are shooting at. Even farther back, when knights would duel for the sake of their king or their honor, commending each other for the courage of carrying out a duel. Aziraphale remembered when the military was a respectable path of life, honored by the people and by the nobles. But down in the trenches, with the explosive crackling sounds of machine guns and tanks firing overhead, the boys weren’t anything but the same as the rats in the city sewers. All while the commanding officers refused to have their hands dirty, itching for a proper fight for the sake of violence.

In retrospect, not much was different from the trenches than the army camps of old. The technology was different, sure, but the hierarchy was the same. It’s actually not too different from Hea--

Don’t.

Aziraphale patted the leg of the soldier he was working on and pretended like he didn’t hear anything. “All better. Do try to keep it clean, dear. God bless you.”

The soldier nodded and limped away, back to the trenches, back to that insufferable inferno, back to hell.

Aziraphale set a mental reminder to ask Crowley about that when he next sees him; the comparisons of Hell and the trenches (at least, about how the humans see it). He wondered if Crowley even knew what was going on. He had to, didn’t he? Hell loves it whenever humans go to war, especially on this scale.

Then again, so did Heaven. But of course, Heaven had divine justifications; all in part of the Great Plan and thwarting the enemy, guiding humans down the path of good and virtue.

Good. Keep that up.

Believe it.

Never forget it.

The thought of Crowley troubled him. Oh, he did hope the demon was taking care of himself. Their last argument in St. James Park was not ideal, per say, and they haven’t spoken in decades, much less seen each other.

A few hours later, at the crack of dawn, the sound of a whistle was heard and French soldiers were sent off in waves, running across no man’s land, hearts thumping louder than the gunshots. Some time after that, the noise died down and Aziraphale was sent to help collect the bodies from the waste and the debris. He managed to locate an older soldier (around his early thirties) whose right arm was stuck in barbed wire and his rotted feet had gotten sunken into the crater full of water. Aziraphale ran up to him and the startled soldier’s free hand went immediately to his bayonet. It was a miracle that the bullet missed and Aziraphale was able to drag the soldier back to the medical tents, heaving him up to the hospital cot and ripping off his uniform sleeves, exposing his infected arm.

The wound wasn’t as deep as Aziraphale feared and some minutes later, the arm was cleaned thoroughly. The feet, however, were in such a terrible condition that Aziraphale might just have to recommend the soldier be taken off duty.

(It never works. Aziraphale has tried before. But the French high command is dedicated to keeping as many soldiers on the battlefield as possible, not letting any get off easily. It reminded Aziraphale of— Don’t. )

A nurse came by as Aziraphale finished up with the soldier. He looked around himself, at the crowded tent with no hospital cots to spare. Some men had to recover on the dirty mud of the floor and it pained Aziraphale to think that he could be doing more, more miracles, more something.

But Orders are Orders. It will all work out for the best in the end. It has to.

Right?

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

The night was beginning to set in as Aziraphale sat down at the entrance to his assigned tent, overlooking the sleeping soldiers. Most were sleeping, though some were busy in their own hobbies: writing, painting, some were even reciting plays to the people next to them. It made Aziraphale think of the orphanages he would visit occasionally, how pleasantly delighted he would be to usually find Crowley there, and the angel smiled fondly. The demon never talked about it but after millennia of always being able to find him near one, Aziraphale had his own suspicions.

It was a quiet night so far, even with the muffled laughter where some men would recite lines from famous plays. The braver few would indulge in singing their favorite operas. Aziraphale made sure to place soldiers whom he knew had an affinity for instruments next to the singers. It warmed his heart to listen to the confident singers and the resourceful musicians (who more often than not recreated their preferred instruments with nearby objects or their voices). It made this whole mess almost seem normal, if only for a little bit, when the warfare outside has quieted down enough to forget where you are.

There was some shuffling outside, however. Aziraphale could hear it but thought nothing of it. It was typical. The cover of night helped the soldiers do things they normally weren’t allowed to do, like sing or fool around. Be normal young men. If only for some fleeting minutes.

Aziraphale smelled it before he noticed anything else. It was potent and irritating, stronger than anything he’s smelled before. He put down his book and took a breath in, trying to place the smell. Aziraphale gagged immediately, covering his mouth. It was most decidedly not something he would like to experience, thank you very much. Luckily, he didn’t need to breathe, and so he turned off his respiratory system. It was most likely some foul smell from the blood and the rotting flesh around the trenches. Maybe even mixed with gunpowder or the sweat of so many dirty people (who unfortunately haven’t been able to bathe properly in months ).

Then the shouting started and the peaceful ambience of the medical tent vanished as if it never existed. Sleeping soldiers jolted awake and some tried to stand to attention before realizing the pain in their bodies was more overwhelming than awaiting orders. Aziraphale rushed out of his wooden chair and exited the tent with a hurrying pace. Red, blazing flares went up in certain spots along the long trenches, illuminating the green sky.

No, that wasn’t right. The angel pushed his way to the nearby frontlines, searching— There! The sound of a cannon and somewhere down the line of the trench, a metal canister lodged itself between the ground and the sandbags of the trench barrier. Then, like a firework, it popped open, releasing nothing. Aziraphale stared at it, trying to make out any details in the extremely dim light and from such far a distance. But nothing came out of the canister.

The officers closest to his stretch of the trenches shook their heads. The eldest one spoke up. “It was a malfunction of their cannons. Tell the men not to panic but to be ready if needed.”

The officers dispersed and the eldest remained by Aziraphale’s side. He looked at the angel and sniffed. “What do you think of it?”

“Pardon?” asked Aziraphale. “Is it not a failed explosive?”

The officer scoffed. “That’s only to not raise more alarm than is needed, Sir Doctor. The Germans have been too resilient to send in failed explosives and not back it up with something more reliant.”

“Then, and forgive me for asking, but why ask me? ”

“Why ever not?” His pale eyes glared into Aziraphale’s. “I like having second opinions given to me. You are a respectable doctor. My men have said so.”

Aziraphale glanced back at the faraway canister. He frowned and tried to pull some miracle to be able to see it more clearly. It was a long moment before his blue eyes caught something unusual. “If you look closely, the area surrounding it is close to a green color.”

The officer nodded. “Most strange. I will advise the men not to touch it then.”

Then, more shouting erupted, more noise, the sound of help! down the opposite end of the trenches in the area. More emergency flares were sent up, accompanied by a faint green smoke, and Aziraphale paled. The officer must have noticed it too because his war-hardened eyes were full of fear.

The men returning from that side of the trenches were coughing, doubling over as they gasped for breath.

They would cough, and then they would fall, and they would cough again, liquid spilling out from their lungs until their bodies stilled. Paramedics arrived, would inspect the men, shake their heads to each other, before also having coughing fits. They too would promptly fall on the ground and convulse until they stilled.

The officer was the first of the two of them to move. “Damn!” he shouted as he raced to the first soldier he could grab hold of.

“Don’t let anyone get near the canisters!” he hollered to the nearby men.

Aziraphale flew past all of them. The officer called after him (“Are you out of your damn mind!”) but to no avail. His attention went back to commanding the soldiers around him. In the dense haze of the green gas, the angel could see closely how it affected the soldiers: extremely intense coughing, spasms, faints. The more you inhaled, the more you coughed, but the more air you’d need, and so the cycle continued. Aziraphale was quick to carry as many men as he could, tripping over himself multiple times, until he could deposit them into the farthest medical tents. The nurses and other volunteer physicians set to work immediately and Aziraphale made his way back to the trenches.

The sun was starting to rise when Aziraphale was able to sit down. He panted and ran his hands through his dirty hair, having spent many miracles to help where he could. The green fog was still dense by the time the sun fully rose and the once blue sky was a terrible green. Not so much because of the color but because there was no wind to disperse the gas somewhere else and so it all concentrated in the immediate area. The wet and damp atmosphere made it immensely worse, as the gas ate through and corroded the metal equipment in the trenches.

The next day, Aziraphale was given the casualties report. More than a thousand dead in an area of a few square miles. And those were only the registered soldiers. The doctors and nurses that cared for the poisoned soldiers were not recorded yet and it filled Aziraphale with dread.

The Germans did not start any attack for the rest of the week nor for the week after that. The eldest commanding officer was now a stout man with a full beard and stone-cold eyes. He did not meet the eyes of any of his subordinates nor of the doctors. He gave orders and expected someone to execute them. He was nothing like the officer before him.

“Those bastards will get what they deserve,” he would say often, and those around him would nod solemnly. If he heard laughter or saw smiles, he would roar. If he heard music or chatter, he would threaten to put the offending person on the frontlines as shooting practice.

Aziraphale hated him.

By then, it was well into a hot summer. Aziraphale was moved from the medical tents to the barracks, because the stout commanding officer decided that he looked strong enough to hold a gun and strong enough to face down the enemy. There were soldiers in Aziraphale’s barracks that he recognized from their stay in the medical tents. They looked at him and shook their heads in defeat, wondering how he ended up here and knowing the exact answer to why: the French needed more men. They were losing the war and they weren’t afraid to repurpose.

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

“Put some backbone into it, men!” shouted one of the officers. He shook his fist in the air and the soldiers were drenched in sweat as they banded together to lift the fallen tree. It was blocking the transport line and any more delay would make the trucks late as they rolled their way to the trenches. After the tree was finally moved, the soldiers clambered over to the back of the army trucks. Crowley huffed as he got himself comfortable on the bench.

Hell was more rigorous with appearances this time around and Crowley could only guess why. The war has only been going on for about a year and already so many humans are dismissing belief in God, feeling as though She has abandoned them entirely. So many souls ripe for the picking. Temptations naturally come more easily, as was the logic of Hell, and thus Crowley did not need so many miracles, seeing as any display of the supernatural will equate to divine power in the eyes of the humans.

It was about the most creative thing that the Dark Council has ever come up with, like they were finally taking Crowley up on his advice of getting an imagination. And so, they’d sent him to ensure that the most amount of destruction was made possible, predicting that with Germany’s industrialization, if the Germans were to be only a little more ahead, then the vengeful nature of France and the imperial attitudes of England and Russia would maximize the tragedy.

As much as Crowley hated to admit it, it was working so far, and Hell was even keeping a closer eye on him. They’d even interrupted his depressive nap, claiming he’s done enough slothing about, and ordering him to fulfill his new mission with the utmost efficiency.

Crowley wondered if Aziraphale was caught up in this bloody war as well. He probably was; Heaven loved it when humans went to war. He tried to imagine Aziraphale with firearms and shuddered, feeling suddenly fearful of the soft angel he’s known for millennia. A sword was one thing, but a gun? Divine justice to the extreme, enough to make any demon cower in fear.

“—about that, Crowley?” asked Erich, snapping the demon out of his thoughts.

“What?” said the demon elegantly.

“The gas,” said Johann, as if that explained anything. “They just deployed it on the Western front. I think it’s a coward’s weapon. You don’t even face your opponent! And what’s it even going to do to the Allies? Absolutely nothing, I tell you.”

“I think it’s only good enough to shake up the Allies. But we aren’t any closer to going home.” Erich tapped the butt of his gun on the floor of the truck, fiddling with it.

“Sure. Yeah. Gas.” Crowley crossed his arms and laid his back against the wall of the truck. He crossed his leg over the other and fixed his gaze on the disappearing road as the truck carried on.

“You know,” said Johann in that same conspiratorial voice, “I heard that the French have an angel on their side. He came out completely unaffected by the gas.”

Crowley sat up in interest.

Erich groaned in annoyance. “An angel? As if. We wouldn’t be here if God was actually benevolent. We’re all God-fearing Christians. Why do we need to die like this?”

Johann scoffed. “Again with that, Erich?”

Erich opened his mouth to retort but Crowley put a hand on his shoulder and turned to Johann. He’s a violent boy. Exploit that. “If you want to argue, wait until we’re out of this truck. You’ll have more space for a proper fight.”

Johann snorted. “I always think you’re too old for this job, Crowley. You sound like my father.”

“What, are you scared of a little scuffle?” Erich smiled.

“N-No!” Johann sputtered. “I just think that I should save my energy for some pathetic Allied bastard. Be able to enjoy it with all my strength at the ready.”

Erich made a disgusted face and gave Crowley a side glance. Crowley shook his head. “Very honorable,” he said with as much sarcasm as the demon could muster.

“Well, it’s what they deserve for trying to ignore Germany and her might. They won’t ignore us after this.”

“Is that what they tell you?” Crowley asked, in absolute pure disbelief. He shouldn’t be surprised, however, especially coming from Johann.

“Is it not true, oh wise old man?”

“Definitely not,” said Erich. “Do you even read the news?”

“The news from where? English papers and their lies?”

“ German papers and their reports. Do you even know what happened last summer? Or are you just that thick?”

Johann’s argument was interrupted by the truck lurching to a stop and the soldiers next to the trio filtering out. They’ve arrived at the newly built trench with a restock of supplies for the Eastern front. Johann got out first, Erich stuck his middle finger at him, and Crowley rolled his eyes. Honestly, Johann was too easy of a Temptation and Crowley hasn’t even done anything yet.

The trucks were unloaded quickly. While the other soldiers, including Johann, went ahead, Erich grabbed Crowley by his sleeve and pulled him back.

“What do you want?” hissed Crowley.

“We could leave. Right now.” Erich had a determined look in his eyes.

“Are you insane?” The poor boy would be shot immediately. At least he’d go quickly. Still, Crowley was not up to watch kids die.

“Come on! You want to leave too!”

“They’ll kill you,” Crowley said with a growl, yanking his arm free from Erich’s grasp.

“We’d die anyways if we stay.”

Crowley sighed and slung his gun around his shoulder, resting it on his back.

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

“Shoot those bastards down!”

“We’re on our last bullets!”

“Crowley, look out!”

“Run!”

. . .

“It was him! It was all him! He made us do it! He’s the devil!”

“Shut it!”

“Please, Johann-!”

“ Shut it! Kill this one too.”

“But-!”

“Do you traitors have anything to say for yourselves?”

“...go to hell.”

. . .

“What shall we do with the Brit?”

“Leave him here. The rats will have him soon enough. The general requested us on the Eastern front.”

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

“And why would saving the lives of these humans guarantee souls for our Master, demon Crowley?”

“Well, you’ve got all these humans ignoring orders, rebelling, ya know? And you’ve got 50 million people pissed off at their leader. They’re willing to do anything at this point. And it’s not really saving their lives, innit? We’d have them later in their lifespans.”

“...I see. Then you have your orders, Crowley. We will send a group of other demons to cover all of Europe.”

“...how many demons?”

“Does it matter? Enough to claim all of humanity’s souls.”

“Right. Okay. Yeah. Teamwork. Wahoo.”

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

“Hail Satan,” greeted the demons with toothy smiles.

Crowley strolled up to them and gave a half wave. “Right, Satan. Er, what do you want?”

“To coordinate. Beelzebub wishes a smooth victory for Hell,” said the one with a head full of gray horns instead of hair.

“Right. Well, I’m pretty good here— er, bad— well, you get it.” Crowley stuffed his hands into the pockets of his uniform jacket. “You can do as you please. I’ve got this front covered.”

One of the demons frowned with what was left of their rotten, misshapen face. They sniffed the air and growled. “I smell humans.”

Another demon, much shorter, jumped up to hit their companion over the head. “We’re on Earth, moron. Of course there’s bloody humans!”

“No, not like that.” They thought for a moment and cringed, scowling. “I smell virtuous humans. Untainted by us.”

“Listen, I’ve already said I’ve got it under control here. You can move along and go tempt some other poor sods—”

“Shut it, Crawly—”

“ Crowley. ”

“—you’ve got explaining. Why are there good humans here? Where are they?”

Crowley shifted on his feet slightly. Just a few miles away, back towards the south, along a path he had hiked along, was a farm that had been abandoned at some point in the war. The family had left in a hurry when the war came their way and so the animals and some commodities were still there. Lounging just outside the main barn were Erich and his friends, gathered around a small fire and looking up at the unpolluted, untouched night sky.

Crowley gritted his teeth. “It’s a bit of a harder job than usual.”

The short demon jumped up repeatedly to reach Crowley’s eye level. “Let us introduce ourselves then!”

“Surely a demon would have no reason to object to the help of other denizens of Hell?” said the very first demon with his head of horns. It smirked cruelly. There were multiple reasons to object to the help of other demons. Many of which were fairly obvious, thought Crowley, and he was glad once again for the protection his glasses gave him as he tried for a pleasant smile.

“Oh, they’re already on the brink. It won’t be too long for them to give in.” His hands twitched in his pockets. “Got them to rebel, desert, see? Highest sin: disobedience. Especially in these times.”

The demon with hardly a face grunted, the short demon eyed the red-head suspiciously, and the horn-headed seemed satisfied with Crowley’s answer. “Very well.”

“Eh?”

“Carry on, Serpent of Eden,” said the demon mockingly. “But we’ll be here, in case you find it too hard to handle.”

The other two demons seemed to want to protest, eyes wide, but the horn-headed demon grabbed both of them and dragged them away, finally vanishing into the maze of branches and bushes beyond.

Crowley swallowed. “Right. That was a thing.”

He turned back in the direction of the farm. Upon arrival, he found the soldiers exactly where he left them, even if half of them were asleep or drowsy. Erich was one of the few still wide awake. He grinned at Crowley as the demon sat down next to him.

“Any news to report, Captain?” said another soldier.

Crowley was not a captain but the young man seemed intent on calling him as such. In fact, most of the soldiers here either called him “sir” or “captain.” The few who called him Crowley were the ones he respected the most.

“Ngh,” answered Crowley. “Just the occasional rabbit. More snow. Nothing much.”

Erich laughed. “Did you even try to patrol?”

Crowley smacked him in the arm. “If all of you end up dead, so do I. Not patrolling seems a bit of a conflict of interest, innit?”

The other soldiers hummed in agreement. Some even laughed as well. Erich just laughed harder. One particular soldier just glared at Crowley. The demon racked his brain for a name — nothing came up. That boy was more quiet than the rest and he always seemed reluctant to have joined their group. Back in the trenches, he was almost left behind while the group joined Erich and he had to run to catch up to them.

After a while, as the fire died down, most of the soldiers had drifted off to sleep. Erich was just about ready to turn in for the night, standing up to claim a spot inside the warm barn with the itchy hay. It was a harsh winter but with what all of these boys had seen in the trenches, it wasn’t so bad. It just took some getting used to. There were some sheep in the fields of the farm as well. One of the soldiers used to watch his mother knit and another used to live on a farm, although he only ever worked with the pigs. Together, they had managed to strip the sheep of some of their wool and make something that could count as blankets for the rest of the group.

Crowley stayed near the dying fire, acting as guard. He tucked his knees in and focused his eyes into the dark forest surrounding them. That quiet boy was staring at him with a blank face. It would be unnerving if Crowley wasn’t so used to it already.

Only a mere year into the war and already there were thousands — if not millions — dead, most on the Allied side only because the Centrals decided to play defensive and it seemed to be working. No one was prepared for this though, but it was coming, and Crowley hated that. That’s the thing with free will: humans do this to themselves. Crowley usually just has to open certain doors and they’ll walk right through. Same with angels, in a way. They hold the door open but the path is troublesome and Heaven likes to pride itself in the journey to virtue instead of the virtue itself. In reality, though, Blessings and Temptations are just two sides of the same coin. Free will is the one who flips it and decides which no matter what the result was.

At some point, deep into the night, the fire had died out. Crowley still refused to rest and he could already see just a sliver of sunlight peak over the dark horizon. But it was also the middle of winter and while the fire’s light would be useless in a few hours, its warmth was still valuable. Thus, Crowley got up to search for more wood.

Unfortunately for him, good branches for the fire were further into the forest. The big ones high in the trees were a bit difficult to break off and the ones on the forest floor were hidden by a fresh layer of glistening snow, not to mention wet as well. Frowning, Crowley resolved to snap off the smaller branches: the ones closer to the ground and the ones on the very ends of the bigger ones. Not too great to keep a fire going but okay enough for kindle, if only for a little while. Maybe he could use a miracle to keep the flames going more than they should. Shouldn’t be too big a miracle that Hell would notice, right? Damn their new restrictions for this mission.

Crowley reached towards a small tree, on the edge of a cliff. He stepped around it a bit, mindful of the sudden drop behind him as he found footing. His arms were full of dry branches and he quickly snapped another one off the tree. He stepped again, in the fresh snow this time, then—

The ground gave out from under him.

Crowley fell.

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

Aziraphale always seemed to find looking at his surroundings much more stimulating than focusing on the monotonous marching of soldiers, even if he was marching too. That being said, it’s not like his surroundings were much more interesting. The open valley was the same landscape they’ve been in for the past week and other than some small game here and there, not much would happen. The most comfort they’d had was a small farmhouse they had spent part of the night in and had just left that early morning. The soldiers’ morale was at an all time low as well; anyone could tell you that. The winter was depressing and long and far too cold and Aziraphale had no idea what the actual status of the war was—

Wait. What the heavens was that?

Something fell from the valley walls around them. Aziraphale and the other soldiers near the back stopped and turned. A few of them already armed their guns, pointing in that general direction. But nothing moved so neither did they, except for Aziraphale, unarmed due to his position, who cautiously approached the area. And imagine his surprise when he saw a lanky figure with fiery red hair, stilled, deep in the snow.

“What is it, doctor?” one of the soldiers called, slinging his gun over his arm.

“Nothing, just a rabbit,” Aziraphale called back. “Nothing to worry about.”

The soldier nodded and signaled to the others to resume their marching. Aziraphale waved his hand quickly — a simple miracle to force the soldiers’ indifference — and got to work getting Crowley somewhere else. The farmhouse in the valley wasn’t too far and frankly, Crowley looked like he was in no condition to get there by himself.

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

“What the hell are you doing, Aziraphale?”

“What does it look like I’m doing, Crowley? It’s not exactly very discreet.” Aziraphale gently wrapped Crowley’s leg with gauze. He said sternly, “Stay still.”

Crowley rolled his eyes and growled. “Thought you had other people to fraternize with.”

“I still refuse to give you a suicide pill. I thought I made that clear half a century ago.” The angel propped a wooden board against Crowley’s leg and began tying the two together.

“That’s not—!” Crowley winced when Aziraphale tied his leg harsher than he probably should’ve. “Fine. Have it your way then.”

Crowley settled himself against a bundle of hay near the back wall. The splint was expertly made. After a moment, he looked at Aziraphale’s blue uniform, the red cross on the angel’s sleeve, and asked, “Why France?”

“Heaven’s instructions. They had caught me in the middle of lunch. Give me your arm. Why Germany?”

The demon extended his mangled left arm as best as he could. Aziraphale doused it with clean water and started wrapping it in gauze. Crowley said, “Hell’s orders. They caught me in the middle of my nap. Didn’t even know what was going on ‘til I walked out of Hell in a uniform.”

“Seems as though we are canceling each other out,” said the angel, teasingly.

Crowley didn’t smile. “Not this time, angel.”

Aziraphale stopped dressing the rest of Crowley’s wounds and sat down on the hay beside him, looking at him intently. “What happened, Crowley?”

The demon looked away.

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

Crowley buried his face into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck and wrapped himself around his soft angel. They were comfortably in bed and the world was, gratefully, not destroyed. Aziraphale held him in his strong arms, one hand stroking gently through the demon’s fire hair, murmuring sweet nothings. At one point, Aziraphale spoke up, as a thought occurred to him. “Dear? “Hm?”

“Do you ever wonder about your platoon’s families? From the Great War?”

Crowley squeezed him a little harder, sleep still in his voice. “‘Ey weren’t m’ platoon, angel, they were m’ friends. Far as I know, their families had the recession to worry about. No time for grieving.”

“Yes, but…”

Crowley shifted. “What’s wrong, angel? Talk to me.”

Aziraphale pulled his lips together and hummed in thought. “I was wondering… what with the relative life-spans of humans… and the fright we had at the beginning of the 20th century…”

Crowley pulled a face. “Oh, don’t start with this again, angel.”

“No, no, my dear. It’s not that. Though that discussion was certainly interesting—”

“You mean depressing.”

“—I was just wondering how they, the humans, put such blind trust in each other. We’ve been friends for six thousand years, but they only get a maximum of about a hundred. It’s so short in comparison.”

Crowley nodded, trying blinking the sleep in his tired eyes away as Aziraphale continued to run his hand through his hair. “It’s a miracle, innit?”

“It’s certainly heartwarming. I must say, they truly had it in the 1960s. Do you remember the 1960s, dear?”

“Bright as day, angel.”

“Oh, that was a terrible time. So much fighting, like a repeated cycle. But they made it out, to your night canvas.”

Crowley smiled fondly. “I remember your face when I forced you to sit through the recording of the moon landing. Do you really mean to tell me you hadn’t used a telly yet before that?”

“Oh, hush you fiend.” A moment passed in comfortable silence. “They really do love each other, don’t they, my dear? Like a family.”

“Pretty big family. Billions of distant cousins.”

Aziraphale smiled. “I’m very glad this all isn’t, how did you put it, ‘a pile of boiling goo?’”

“A big messy ball of boiling goo.”

“Yes, that.”

Crowley yawned. “A big soft pillow too. G’night, angel.”

“Good night, my beloved.”

Because even with all its flaws, humanity is not a species or a grand family; it’s a celebration of life and kindness. Because even in the end-that-wasn’t, through the sheer kindness of an 11-year-old boy with his dog and his friends, the earth continued to spin. Because even though terrible things have happened, whole cities destroyed, whole continents mercilessly bombed, whole lives with so much future potential lost, life finds a way. And an angel and a demon can stand testimony for it, because they’ve seen it all, through the good and the bad. And that’s beautiful, in its own complicated way. The unsung heroes of everyday life that you don’t notice, the newborn crying as their mother holds them tight to her chest and promises to protect them forever, the friend you lost but will never forget; they’re all beautiful.

They’re all worth it.

And that’s beautiful.

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

More Author's Notes:

If this story made no sense, just pretend it did. I also initially wrote this during quarantine so do with that information what you will.

Historical notes: 1. The year 1915 was the year with the most fighting on the Western Front. It was also the deadliest year for the French forces, with 349,000 deaths.

2. In 1915, the Germans were also focusing on the Eastern front with Russia. On April 22 of that same year, the Germans unleashed chlorine gas on the Western front but that was the only battle they instigated that year, as an experiment for the gas. However, they didn’t think the gas would be effective at all so this allotted nothing other than further death and destruction.

3. The MHS (Military Health Services) was made up of volunteer doctors and nurses willing to put their life on the line to set up hospitals and medical tents wherever the fighting went. However, they were constantly overwhelmed with the amount of deaths per day on either side of the fighting. It was apparently common for civilians to see dozens of hospital trains and hundreds of ambulances pass through cities on the daily. According to German writer Leonhard Frank, these were a representation of the war as they quite literally brought home the horrors of the trenches, regardless of the side.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #good omens fanfiction #ace writes #world war 1 #why is that a tag on this website #anyways i hope yall enjoy #please ignore any plot holes this is really old

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flowersdaggersviolasandblood · 6 months

Text

Fame, Riches, and Music

Name: Nalanthar Arabana (He/Him/They/Them)

Race: Drow Half-Elf

Class: Bard (College of Valour)

Background: Entertainer

WARNING, SPOILERS AHEAD!

Moving on to Nalanthar next, we fought our way to the top of the tower and faced Ketheric Thorm. Because Nalanthar also gleamed some information about Thorm and his grief over his past wife, he had the option to try to talk Ketheric down from his tyranny. However, Nalanthar was feeling heroic and decided to stand his ground against Ketheric. This time around, it was a lot easier getting through the first phase of the boss fight, and we descended into the mystery flesh pit.

Throughout our trip in the mystery flesh pit, I couldn't help but think that Nalanthar would be fascinated with the workings of a Illithid infected site. Especially since we learned from another programed brain that they use thralls or prisoners to feed the flesh, absorbing them into the meaty surroundings to further stabilize the flesh pit. While exploring, I also met with Kressa and gave her the false idea that Nalanthar and the crew were in the flesh pit to assist them in some way. I, of course, killed them soon after.

But this time around, I decided to look into the notes of the fallen Myrkul disciples and we learn that Kressa herself was also looking into the parasites and experimenting with them. So much so that few of her closest associates were beginning to fear that she would implant a parasite into them next. What encouraged Kressa into doing so is because she was tired of only being able to "create Thralls" and not experiment with them the same way Balthazar and the Chosen are able to. So she was secretly trying to cherry pick a subject so that she can have her own findings to discover. This might also relate back to Torment since she recognized him immediately and spoke fondly of their time together.

After freeing Zevlor and the Flaming fist, taking care of some undead in the other room, and freeing Mizora, we marched down to the final boss to take care of Ketheric Thorm. We swiftly whooped his ass, enjoying the view of Dame stomping his corpse to the ground. Then, Nalanthar's Guardian decided to pay him a visit. Admittedly, Nalanthar was shell shocked and felt like his was 30 years younger again. I mentioned this before, but Jhanel, his long dead crush, died many years ago by falling to her death. Nalanthar assumed that perhaps his previous adoration was protecting him from whatever afterlife she was sent to. But to see her in the flesh, here within the land of the living, it brought many feelings to Nalanthar.

One, he couldn't help but fall back in love again. The hope that she could actually BE alive despite the fall swelled in his chest. Yet, he also had a hint of confusion and suspicion about this creature now, because for the longest time, Nalanthar has been convinced that Jhanel, his Purple Orchid, was dead. Falls in the Underdark are exceptionally deadly. A hole could lead you thousands of feet to your death. Yet, despite this, Nalanthar, before Jhanel left, hugged her on impulse. Right in front of Astarion and Halsin mind you (uh oh!).

Touching her again only solidified the hope within him that he could potentially be with Jhanel again. Upon leaving Moonrise Towers, we gained Jaheira as an ally, along with the Harpers, and agreed to look for more help in Baldur's Gate.

Before ending this post, a few new things we learn about our companions, specifically Dame and Karlach! So, Karlach expressed how she used to be very close to Gortash. He was a wealthy fellow, wealthy enough to help get her and her loved ones out of the ghetto and into well-off lifestyles. Karlach thought them friends (maybe even more the way she spoke about him), but then she was sold off to Zariel to Avernus. It happened so fast for her, not enough time to compute that she was even sold off. It was then that she was given an Infernal Engine where her heart should be.

As for Dame, Nalanthar decided to ask Aylin about her relationship with Isobel. She explained that she and Isobel kicked it off right away, but her father, Ketheric, was not approving of their love. The way she worded it, it sounded like he was getting overprotective or even jealously hiding away his daughter from her. Eventually, Isobel would die and Ketheric and Balthazar would trick Dame into coming back to Rethwin so that they would trap her forever. She has been used countless times to raise Dark Justiciars it seems as she was killed multiple times; only to come back to do it all over again in the Shadowrealm. All the while, Ketheric fed off her immortality thanks to her being a phylactery for him. And by the looks of it, her attitude til now checks out.

Poor girl has gone through multiple deaths and torment, she must not being completely there in the head. Regardless of that, she is on our side and fighting the good fight, ready to bring Selune's wrath on our enemies.

One final thing though! Nalanthar had a bit of a chat with Wyll about his pact. This time around, Nalanthar was able to sus out that Wyll was around during the Rise of Tiamat incident and asked that Wyll describe the scene himself instead of using the tadpole to remanence on that fateful day. When Wyll asked what Nalanthar would've done to protect his own home, Nalanthar shamelessly admitted that he would let his home town burn to the ground. Nalanthar holds no love for the Drow society that he left behind.

This is where we leave homeboy for now. Finally, we will see what Admaer is up to in his little sticky predicament.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #tav: nalanthar arabana

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albino-whumpee · 3 years

Text

Introduction

Superhero whump for practice and to set me into a writing mood again. Or a creating mood again. Idk anymore. Hope you like it! Also to fill my @badthingshappenbingo card, with prompt “pinned by wreckage”

This is a series

Masterlist

CW// blood, villain whumpee, superhero caretaker, gruff caretaker, enemies to friends?, murder mention, dub con bondage, impaled limb, defiant whumpee, field medicine and captivity.

Among the gravel and devastation, someone sweated the big drop just trying to get to someone. The quiet was made of the crackling fire and rocks sliding under their step; their “friends” long gone to be celebrated for their did. After years of endless, tiresome battles, they had brought Villain down.

However the hero that had turned off the microphone on the collar around their neck wasn’t sure their team had been heroic at all.

Villain had self destructed after being surrounded without escape. Fearing what they might do with them once captured, they blew up their whole base. Or that’s what the leader told the rest.

Hero spent hours after dawn searching. Digging and clinging to any little sound. After a few hours of smelling nothing but dust and their own blood, they found them. The hero’s breathing slowed looking at villain so utterly defenseless, dirty with blood pooling below them because of how a piece of the fallen building impaled one of their arms, and still somehow, when Hero got closer, was able to pull a scowl.

“Don’t get any closer, hero…” they said between laboured pants.

“Can you stop me?” They stepped forward regardless of their hissing. Hero was slightly amused of Villain recoiling their legs closer, away from their reach. “You lost, Villain”

Their eyes widened before pressing their lips into a tight line “Not yet, I… Im not yet-º

“There’s nothing left. It’s done” they cut them off, now towering over them. “And if you don’t treat that arm you will be done for, too”

“What?” Villain blurted out as Hero placed their hands over the metal structure “The hell are you doing?! Get off!” They screamed throwing weak punches at Hero’s legs and shins. They pushed with all their strength, grunting under their breath and panting harder before wheezing out of the effort. A few drips of blood stained hero’s boots “You’re not taking me to lock me up. That’s. Not. Happening.” they snarled with the fury of a wild animal that’s desperately fighting to get off a hunter’s trap. “Not when I was so close… I won’t let that happen!”

Hero looked from above at the pitiful image of their enemy trying to pointlessly push them away while taking their last breaths.

“They told me to leave you to die” Hero admitted suddenly. Catching villain off guard and throwing them off enough to make them look up at them in surprise. “If I found you alive, they told me to kill you slowly. If I found you half dead, to watch and bring your corpse” Hero’s dark eyes usually had a gleam Villain despised. But hopefulness wasn’t on the eyes that looked down on the dirty villain before them. Both of them knew that but Villain sighed a harsh breath.

After a long moment, Villain kept their eyes trained down, they spoke in a weak voice “They said I…ah, deserved that, didn’t they?”

“Yes”

Villain stilled and their bleeding arm tensed up, blood speeding down at the pressure before Villain released with a whimper. Their voice was empty and completely uncharacteristic of the Villain they knew “Maybe you should listen to them”

“Maybe” the hero said placing their hands over the metal again, firmly buckling their elbows in preparation “But if we’re done dealing with you I can choose for myself” they continued at the same time they freed their arm and Villain cried out.

Villain cradled their injured arm close, losing energy by the second and already tired out from the previous battle, Hero didn’t have to use their super strength to treat their injuries with the medical glue. An sticky white material that was applied with a gun and acted as a plug to stop the bleeding on deep injuries. They had pierced their arm in two sections, forearm and triceps, too close to the center and maybe too dangerous to have only the glue working when Villain was that pale from blood loss. They had to get somewhere else and get better treatment.

But Villain made one last effort to avoid their fate being suddenly placed on Hero’s hands, trying to jump away and falling into a pit filled with water from a busted out pipe. They crawled. Or tried to, but they had no more energy to lift themselves up the ground. Consciousness slipping, they felt themselves get scooped up, a warmth they despised, firmly against their cheek as the world turned white around the edges.

In Hero’s back, with the sway of their trot over the remains of their base, Villain cried helplessly. After so long, it was really over. Them and their work and everything they longed for was…gone. They could see the devastation beyond the ruins. They knew they were no saint, but now after losing, had it been worth it? All the sacrifices made?

They had dreams they took a long, long time to even imagine them. Much more setting them into motion. But they weren’t on the side that get their dreams realized, were they?

“Why?” Villain suddenly asked as Hero was getting back to their airship hidden in the woods, now just a few dead branches from the aftershock of the buildings collapsing.

“Why what?”

Villain couldn’t even find it in them to open their eyes. No energy left to fight either. There was no point now “You’re a…special kind of naive for…helping me when you’re killing me anyways” they said, controlling their breathing to not give out how tired they were. Hero probably already knew, anyways, by how they hanged limp on their back.

“Im not killing you”

“Same thing as locking me up” Hero stayed quiet a second. The sound of their boots crunching the dirt and loose branches didn’t stop.

“I won’t do that either”

Villain laughed wryly “Not just naive but stupid too”

“Guess stupid people stick together” Hero stopped a second to readjust their grip on Villain. A careful hop that let their head rest against their broad back, before they continued and Villain heard the engine of the airship.

“Dunno, your squad isn’t here…” Villain’s stomach churned at the frustration of getting carried into their enemy’s ship, hopelessly under their mercy. Just about to fill every nightmare they had relentlessly tried to avoid. But there was something about the way Hero laughed as they carefully laid them on the bed with nylon belts that ignited a doubt, a little spark of hope that Villain shoved down. In a situation like that hope didn’t have room anymore.

“I wasn’t talking about them” Hero said before eyeing the belts and sighing. Trouble noticeable in their face before deciding to speak again “We will fly to get you help but I need you to be still. I’m sorry but I’ll have to restrain you”

Villain snorted and gave a breathy laugh that ended in them pressing their mouth shut trying to cover the wince of pain from moving their arm. “Your lot never asked before” Villain shakily crossed their arms over their chest, and a dark thought tingled on Hero’s mind. Villain seemed to know exactly how the restraints of the airship worked already. They had never managed to capture them so why..? Villain panted harder and Hero pulled their attention on cinching the belts around them. Over their legs and the three over their chest, careful of the injured arm and passing one over their forehead. They were leaving to the cabin, when Villain talked again. “Neck. You forgot”

“My, you’re chattier than I thought” Hero said not moving an inch to buckle the belt over their neck. Villain opened their eyes and looked up at the metal ceiling, unable to turn or toss their head around. Only barely able to recline their head back a little. Honestly surprised to not been muzzled already.

They smiled at the inverted image of Hero “Just enjoying freedom as long as I can”

“Im not- “ Hero rubbed their temples before sighing long “We will talk about this later, but You can be sure of something, Villain” Hero said walking to the pilot seat and retracting the wheels as they heard the other take a deep breath and wince because of the constriction if the belts. As Hero’s ship went up and prepared for quick transport they added “I’m not giving up on you. Everyone can change”

Villain felt the pull on their stomach they knew so well and closed their eyes. Focusing on keeping an steady breath to not give in to panic.

“We’ll see about that”

#scars for redemption #villain whumpee #sidekick whumper #villain whumper #hero caretaker #whump #writing #my writing #hurt comfort #angst #captivity #River the villain #whumper turned whumpee #creepy whumper #collars #pet whump #superhero whump

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tozettastone · 2 years

Text

A Valentine's ficlet :)

"This is some kind of festival, isn't it?" The Iron Bull asked.

He must have known, surely, for he'd been south of Par Vollen for plenty of time on his own. But he asked anyway, trudging back from the thrilling duty of digging a latrine trench with the shovel over his huge shoulder. Solas was still out there somewhere, making wards that ought to drive the giant spiders away from the ruins they'd picked for tonight.

The Iron Bull emerged into the circle of firelight, massive and spiked. He broke down the shovel and tied it back onto its pack.

In the shelter of the crumbling stone walls, their fire crackled. Considering the Hinterlands were usually a landscape of either a) screaming mages and templars or b) angry bears, it was a novelty to be able to hear the sharp crack of wood in the night.

Trevelyan viewed the strange peace and quiet as a symptom of a job well done. Or... one getting there, anyway.

"The feast day of Revered Father Valentine, yes," said Dorian, tipping back his dark glass bottle to drink.

He was burnished in the firelight: glossy dark hair, soft leather, smooth bronze skin, wine wet and gleaming on his mouth. He'd be insufferable if anyone told him how nice he looked despite the hard day's travel.

Hmm.

Trevelyan would just think it quietly, then.

The Iron Bull heaved a fallen log closer to the fire, leather harness creaking. He sat down with a grunt and began to take off his brace. His eye closed, half pain and half relieved pleasure, as he gingerly stretched the leg.

Dorian took on a measured tone, then recalling something from—well, some part of his tremendous and, until recently, useless historic education. "He was the disgraced fourth son of the late and unlamented Magister Darlassian. Ran away to become a priest, went on to marry anyone who wanted to be married. Elves and humans. Slaves. You know."

"Popular guy."

"Tremendously. They burned him at the stake. And now," —he raised his bottle, tipping back on his log— "we celebrate him as a martyr."

"Huh. Didn't see a lot of elves marrying humans in Minrathous last time I was there," Bull said, thoughtful.

Dorian laughed. It was not a great laugh. It sounded a bit like a broken hinge. "I didn't say we'd learnt anything. Don't be foolish. I said we were getting drunk."

By 'we' he also might have meant himself, but—perhaps it would be better to share the wine. Yes.

"Be careful, Dorian," Trevelyan said gently, settling in next to him on his log. "That savours strongly of bitterness."

He took up the bottle. Dorian let him, fingers loose, eyes fixed on Trevelyan's mouth as he drank. The glass lip was warm.

The wine was a thin, Antivan variety, and probably stolen from a corpse.

All Trevelyan could taste was woodsmoke anyway. He licked his mouth.

"Perish the thought," Dorian drawled, less loud. "I love a romantic holiday. Can't you tell?"

"Oh, yeah, that's definitely what's happening here," said Bull, eye averted, fiddling with the buckle of his brace. "Romance."

#dragon age #ficlet #perhaps on ao3 layer idk #dorian pavus #the iron bull #trevelyan #also known as: having fun with unnecessary and unsupported Tevinter worldbuilding

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 3 years

Text

Here’s another thought based off this blurb I wrote.

Reader Insert.

CW: Smut adjacent.

_________________

You’re just on the couch, feet propped up on the edge of the coffee table still scrolling through TikTok. Calum’s taken resident up in your lap, head resting on your thighs and his phone is preoccupying him too. That TikTok keeps coming back to your head, the sudden change from the soft voice over to Corpse’s voice. It looks some lurking, and lots of Googling on how to actually make a TikTok, but in the search you come up with a plan. It in some part requires Calum to trust you.

“Babe?” you start, running your fingers through his hair.

“Yeah?”

“Can I make a TikTok of you?”

He looks up, tearing his gaze from his phone. “What-what you are you thinking about?”

“Using the same sound off the same video I showed you. Just tickles, really,” you say.

“God, I hate tickles. But sure, I guess.”

You kiss his nose, “Thanks, babe.”

“Do I need to do anything?”

“Nah, just say comfy,” you encourage, kissing his forehead.

He nods, turning his head just a little to kiss at your tummy. “I can do that.” As the countdown starts, you drag your fingers over his scalp. The song plays and your fingers move into his armpits and he giggles. His natural reaction is to squeeze his arms to his side. It ultimately keeps your hand trapped but you laugh just a little at his response.

As the bass drops and Corpse’s voice filters through, you’re able to wriggle your hand free and slide it over his chest. He settles, peering up at you to see if you’re done. In this action, you’re able to slip your hand up to his throat and give it a small squeeze. The surprise isn’t missed as Calum gasps for just a second before a tiny tiny moan escapes him. His eyes flutter for just a moment. You’re positive the audio is done by now but you do lean down to press a kiss to his lips.

Calum’s not one to usually submit, but it’s there. He does like to be taken care of sometimes and it tends to happen when things get stressful with work or when he’s got a lot on his plate. And it’s not that he can’t take care, it’s not like he can’t take care of things, but sometimes it’s have someone else do it. It’s nice to have someone else please him.

And truth be told, the action should shock him. He should recoil given that you just tickled him, but there’s a gleam in your eyes when you leaned into him. You looked so proud to see him respond that way, to see him trust you, so he pull himself into a seating position and cups your cheek. “You didn’t tell me that was part of the bit.”

You’re acutely aware to save the draft, but your phone is the last of your worries. “Wanted it to be a surprise.”

The distance between you two is short, and grows even shorter as you push up and Calum leans in. His nose brushes over yours. “Considered me surprised.” The pad of his thumb strokes your cheek before he drags his whole palm down and cups your throat in return.

You push forward to seal his mouth in a kiss, peeling his hand away from your flesh. The kiss is short before you pull away. “I don’t think you get to call the shots right now, baby.”

Calum can only let out a shaky exhale as you kiss over the side of his neck, “Okay.”

Calum’s head rests on your chest, the blanket draped on the back of the couch thrown over the both of you. His fingers trace over your sides slowly. Your fingers are scratching over his scalp. “Do you remember if we got Oreos last trip to the store?” you ask quietly. Your fingers move down to the muscle of his back, scratching just a little at the flesh.

“We did. But I can’t say any is left,” he laughs, sitting up. “Which might entirely be my fault, but that’s neither here nor there.” He redresses but drapes the blanket back over you, even goes as far as to tuck the ends around you.

“I am not prisoner to the couch,” you tease.

“You must certainly are.” While Calum checks the kitchen for Oreos, you redress mostly but rewrap yourself in the blanket.

“Huzzah, a full sleeve is left,” Calum declares from the kitchen and then rushes back into the living room. He plops down behind you, resting the package in your lap. You feed him the first one and the voice from the TV surround the two of you. The two of you enjoy the sleeve and then eventually move into the bedroom to wash up and retire under the sheets.

The next morning when you check your phone, as you open the Twitter app your notifications are absolutely flooded. You check to see what happened. Normally, there’s a tweet about you here and there, but you turned off notifications just in general to be safe. But you still checked it periodically. As the tweet loads, you pull your brows down into confusion. Didn’t know they got it on like THAT!

When you scroll up in the chain, you spy the TikTok. You could’ve sworn you had only saved the draft not published it. But when you change to the TikTok app, you realize at the top of your profile is the video. “Holy shit.” You climb out of bed and scurry to find Calum. You’re already trying to get your fingers to stop shaking so you can delete the video. But at this point it is too late, you realize. “Babe?” you call out into the house. “Babe?!”

“Outside,” comes his reply and you spin around and hurry down to the open backyard doors.

“Babe, I’m so sorry,” you rush out.

Calum takes in the panic in your eyes and how your phone is wobbling in your hand. “Hey, hey, whatever it is, we’ll work through it, okay?” But all you can seem to do is just apologize. He nods, guiding you into his chest and rubs his hand up and down your back. “Ssh, take a deep breathe.”

“I-I thought the video was just a draft,” you say more but it gets slightly muffled as you press your face deeper into his skin.

Calum can deduce the problem though. “But you published it by accident?” he asks. You nod. “And I can only assume it only took a matter of time before fans found it huh?” You give another nod.

A sigh leaves his chest and you pull back, “I-I deleted it once I found out and it’s a throwaway account. It’s not even my face as the profile picture you know? I-I thought I was being safe.”

“Shit happens,” Calum returns, using his fingers to wipe away the tears. “It’s out there now. What else can we do?”

“I’m so sorry.”

He kisses your forehead. “I accept your apology. Let’s get some waffles, want waffles?”

You’re not sure how Calum can be so calm about this. “You’re-you’re not mad. After everything?”

“You posting something by accident isn’t the same, okay? Besides, that video is the most harmless thing that’s come out. You know, none of us are saints, nor do we pretend to be saints.” He shrugs. “Besides, what a way to confirm a relationship, you know?”

The two of you had been dating for a while, two years and some change. You had popped up occasionally in an Instagram posts and you two got spotted here and there hanging out. But you were pretty good at keeping your face hidden or turned away from paps when you could spot them. One picture of your face had surfaced, really early on. But not much since then.

Of course, the fans still speculated after all these years that you two were still together but neither you or Calum had done anything to confirm it. It didn’t bother you, you kinda liked the secrecy. It was easier to ignore the occasional tweet about your relationship but most fans had a feeling nothing would ever really be said.

Until now.

And sure, Calum is right on some front. You can’t really do anything about it now. The video is out and no doubt making its rounds. “I’m just going to delete the account, but yes to waffles.”

“If you want to, then I won’t stop you. But really I’m not mad.”

You take a moment to look at him, study his gaze. It’s steady, he looks more concerned than anything else. “Sorry,” you say one last time. It’s clear that there’s not much else that he can say that will ease your fear.

He presses another kiss to forehead, rubbing his hands over your arms. “Let’s go get dressed and eat waffles.”

You nod and it finally dawns on you that Calum had been out with Duke and you spy him laying your and Calum’s feet, completely content to stretch out the rest of the day. You kiss Calum’s cheek and then pick up Duke to nuzzle your nose into his fur. “Oh, buddy, bath time soon for you,” you laugh, but Duke just nuzzles into you.

You settle onto the edge of the bed and Duke rests on your lap. You delete the TikTok account. There’s thousand of tweets it seems, so many comments and you can only imagine that Instagram is going to look the same so you take point not to look at it and to stop looking at Twitter as well. It’s not going to do anything good for you at this point.

As you pull clothes from the dressers and closet, Calum returns to the bedroom. He walks pass you but takes a moment to squeeze your elbow three times. You turn to watch him disappear into the attached bathroom but smile just a little. Three squeezes, always a way to say I love you without necessarily saying it. You two use it most often when you and Calum go out into public, or at parties. Two squeezes means let’s go/there’s a problem. But three, and no more than three is your secret way to say I’m always there with you and for you.

The car ride is quiet, but you hold Calum’s hand like always. It’s easy enough to slip into the breakfast diner. You pick at the corner of the napkin the utensils are wrapped in. The waiter is quick to get your orders. But you’ve stayed silent still. “Look, if waffles don’t fix this, I will go to extreme measures,” he teases after trying to gain your attention.

You roll your eyes, but smile. “God, let’s not do that either.”

He laughs and takes your hand. “I mean, I would always go to the extreme measures for you.”

“Thanks.” The waitress comes back around to refill your water glasses and assure you your food will be coming out soon. “Wanna go to Lowe’s after this? Still gotta find materials for those shelves in your music room.”

He nods. “Yeah we can check them out. But if you stop me from buying my string of pearls, I will riot.”

“I want one just as much as you do, but we need a place for it first.”

“Nonsense. No plan. Just buy.”

Your food is brought out a couple of minutes later and the waffles do make you feel a little bit better, but right in the back of your head is the morbid curiosity to check what is happening on social media. You struggle against it continue to eat on. The sun’s a little brighter as you and Calum leave the diner. You keep your head down and walk a little behind him, but he reaches back, wiggling his fingers for you.

“You sure?” you whisper.

“What are paps going to get now that’s news?” There’s a devilish grin on his face and you give in, catching up and taking his hand. You’re pretty sure you can spot a pap or two but you don’t think too much about it as you stride side by side with Calum.

In the Lowe’s you keep close to Calum, finding the right size planks that would be needed. He drags you over to the plants and allow yourself to be dragged over. “You’re the one that got me hooked on this. This is your fault,” he teases. And you’ll admit it is kinda your fault. You wanted to bring in a few house plants, which Calum admitted to avoiding because he wasn’t home a lot. Though you weren’t sure how that logical applied to a dog, but never the less, your interest in house plants has rubbed off on Calum.

You steer the pallet around with the planks you’re going to use for the shelves, long with the brackets and screws. You might’ve taken over a corner if the garage with some power tools and a small saw for some home projects you’ve wanted to take on. And so now, you tend to take up to some handy projects around the house and Calum’s always there to help hold whatever you need him to hold.

“There are already three plants on this things, let’s slow down,” you tease.

“Never,” he replies, placing another one down. “Kitchen window?”

You nod. “Sounds good to me.”

When you two get home, you unload the planks into the garage and Calum finds his gardening gloves to move the plants into some pots. You watch him settled onto the steps that lead up from the garage into the house, gently pat some extra soil around the plant. “Want some help repotting?”

“It’s only two more,” he returns but does look up pushing his lips out for a kiss. You laugh and kiss him but check the soil on two he’s finished potting to see if they need water. “Can you add a little water to that first one for me?”

“Of course.” It’s not long before you add a little water to the plant and you settle in front of him, snapping a photo of the concentration on his face. It’s slightly obstructed by the baseball cap, but you angle it well enough.

“Cutie,” you whisper and pinch his cheeks.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he laughs. The last plant potted, he turns his attention back to you. “How’s it going? You okay now?”

You shrug. “Better, I guess. Still feel bad.”

“That’s valid. It’s okay if you still feel bad. But all in all, we’re okay. If you’re worried.” You nod, fingers rubbing over leaves gently. “Check my Instagram.” That’s all he says before turning around and head inside with one of the plants.

You stay seated and pull up the platform. When you find Calum’s profile, you a new post. It’s a series, indicated by the white square icon in the top right corner. The first one is hardly a photo of you from years ago but the other two in it are more recent, the last actually a video of you struggling to get some of the planks from the display in Lowe’s. Calum’s voice floats through your speaker and the camera bounces a little as he moves in to help. “Let me help. You’re going to kill yourself trying to do all that by yourself,” he laughs.

“In my will, I will leave you everything then,” you counter and hoist the plank up.

The video is still rolling and captures you grinning as you pointing just off screen, “To plants for my good sir?”

He giggles. “To plants!” and the video ends.

Here’s a very short collection of two years and 3 and a half months, reads the caption and that’s all.

“Calum,” you call out, grabbing the string of pearls and head inside. He shuffles to a stop having been coming around the corner. “I love you. Your post is sweet. Now where do we locate the newest plant baby?”

“Kitchen window. Other will are going in the office.” You go to step past him but he squeezes your elbow-- three times.

#calum hood #Calum Hood blurb #Calum Hood smut #Calum Hood smut adjacent #h writes #Calum Hood fanfic #Calum Hood imagine #Calum Hood x reader #Calum Hood x reader insert #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5sos image

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nightshade-minho · 4 years

Text

-The One-

Warnings: very very mild knifeplay, unprotected sex, oral (m. receiving), fingering, creampie, light navel play, tiny mention of blood, rituals, themes of witchcraft + demons, jealousy, sir kink, master kink, threesome, aftercare.

Felix × fem!Reader × Minho

Wc: 3k

Note: I stayed up all night writing this and was half-asleep so I apologize for any mistakes or incoherencies. Regardless, I’m quite proud of this fic hehe, and I’d love some feedback on it~

You could barely breathe. The feeling of his cock stretching you out as you sat on his lap, combined with the heady feeling of the knife's tip pressed against your skin was driving you insane with arousal.

"Such a pretty one you are...we don't usually get customers like you."

You scrunched your eyes shut, not wanting to make eye contact with him. His smirk, his golden eyes that gleamed with confidence...it would all make you even more nervous than you already were.

"Sir...p-please don't hurt me."

"Tsk. I won't, princess. Not yet." He shifted you on his lap, causing his tip to rub up against your sweet spot. You let out a soft moan as he did so, your eyes slowly opening and drifting down to the shiny steel pressed against your torso.

"Will it...will it hurt?"

He gently dragged the knife upwards, eyes fixed on you. He wasn't applying any pressure, and the blade itself wasn't very sharp...but it still sent tingles through you.

"Not really. If you're a good girl for us, it won't. The ritual is a very short one, and doesn't have many side effects."

"Okay...wait, us?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. My boss. He'll be here soon, don't worry. He's a busy man. I take care of the shop when he's not here."

"Oh...so you're like, his assistant?"

"Mmhm. You could say that. He doesn't pay me, though." He mutters, expression faltering for a second. The smirk slowly returned though, as he dragged the steel gently up between your breasts, pausing.

"Why...w-why do you work here, then?"

"He's family. My older brother,to be exact."

"O-oh..."

"Yup. In fact, enjoy my leniency while you can. I can assure you, my brother is a lot more..."

He sighed, poking the tip into your skin lightly, but not enough to draw blood.

"Sadistic."

You gulped as Felix suddenly started thrusting up into you, his hips gaining a newfound vigor. You groaned, throwing your head back as he hit your sweet spot again.

You never thought you'd end up like this...A few weeks ago, you were living your life like any other college student.

When winter break came along, you'd been more than excited to get back to your hometown...the place you'd grew up in. One of the first things you did was visit the woods, searching for the tree house you'd made when you were about 10 years old.

Of course, you hadn't expected to see a cottage where your tree house had formerly been. On hindsight, it probably wasn't a good idea to knock.

You hadn't expected to see a cute boy open the door, either.

Felix, he said his name was.

The cottage wasn't a house after all...it was more of an eccentric little shop, the shelves lined with curious looking bottles and dusty books.

You'd definitely thought the man was cuckoo, especially when he started talking about witchcraft and rituals. He was undeniably hot, though...

One thing led to another and here you were a few days later, having sex with someone you barely knew. That someone also happened to talk an awful lot about demons and witchcraft. God, you were stupid to trust him.

"This ritual...what does it require, again? And there's absolutely no side effects?"

"Nope. All you want is revenge, correct? We can make that happen."

"Having sex with you is part of it, right?"

Felix laughed, taking his knife away and resting it on the table next to him. "Oh, you truly do hurt me. Here I was thinking you were having sex with me cause you wanted to." He adjusted himself in his chair, lifting you off his cock and turning you around.

He slowly eased you back down onto his length, groaning softly under his breath at your tightness.

"Look here. Intercourse with a virgin is stage one of the ritual, and semen also happens to be one of the ingredients." He said, pulling your back against his chest and lifting a finger, causing a dusty old book in the corner of the room to hover over.

You squinted at the page, the words registering itself in your brain.

"Wait...how did you know I'm a virgin?"

"It's glaringly obvious, doll."

You gritted your teeth, biting your lip as Felix let the book drop to the floor, his hands on your waist as he slowly started fucking up into you.

"Remember, you asked for this. You're the one who came here first. You gave me full consent to do this."

"I d-did."

"Mmhmm. Don't forget to tell Minho that. If he's not a corpse somewhere, that is...he usually isn't this late."

A shiver ran through you as Felix suddenly got up with you still on his cock, his fingers digging into your skin as he took you over to the window. He slid apart the heavy purple curtains with one hand.

"Ah...there he is."

You twisted your neck slightly. Eyes misty with arousal, you could barely make out the shadowy figure approaching. Felix's fingers on your chin forced you to face him again, his smile slightly unsettling.

"He's here. I'll remind you again. This was your choice."

"M-my choice..." You gulped as the door opened, the bells tinkling.

There was silence for a few minutes. Felix's form was blocking the figure in the shop. You made a sound of frustration as you craned your neck, trying to catch a glimpse of this mysterious man, despite the fear enveloping your heart.

"Hm. What do we have here? Felix, I've told you before. Don't bring your playthings into the shop."

Felix turned around, taking you to the counter and setting you on the edge of it, still inside you. The new angle finally let you make eye contact with the man.

Oh, fuck. Almost immediately, you wished you hadn't looked at him. Yes, Felix was scary and slightly unnerving...but this man's aura was a whole new shade of intimidating.

You tried your best to break eye contact, but you couldn't. His stare was mesmerizing, and you almost drooled.

A sharp thrust from Felix snapped you out of your haze.

"She isn't a plaything. She's been coming here for the past week...keeping me company. It gets lonely here when you leave on your little trips, you know."

Minho frowned as he set down the mysterious looking packages he'd been holding, leaning on the heavy oak table. His eyes fell on the open book. He lazily regarded the pages, sighing.

Despite his indifferent expression, when he spoke, his tone was menacing.

"Have you been showing this girl the texts? Felix, you know we're not supposed to fraternize with the mortals. I've let you copulate with some of them, but I've told you time and time again...magic and elements of the otherwordly realm are far too complex for their puny brains to comprehend."

Felix sighed, turning slightly to face his brother but not slowing down. He kept thrusting into you, a hand grasping your breast and fingers gliding over your nipple as he spoke.

"That's just it! This human here is different from the others. For one, once she got over her initial shock and surprise, she even started reading the rituals herself and helping me out around the shop! In fact, that's what we're doing right now, enacting the Interfectorem Inimicus Ritual. She has a silly little rival she wants to get rid of."

Minho sighed, his eyes coming up to meet yours again. You looked away meekly, making a small smirk appear on his features.

Cute.

He rarely found mortals attractive...but this one right here might have to be an exception. Besides, if what Felix said was true, she was special. Maybe she wasn't even a mortal after all...

Minho needed to know if that was true. And there was only one way to find out.

He stalked over calmly, tapping Felix's shoulder.

"Give her to me."

"What?!" Felix's look of confusion mirrored yours.

"You heard me." His gaze drifted slowly to you, a finger sneaking out to trace your jawline. You unknowingly leaned into his touch, shivering at the feeling of his cold fingers.

"Hmm now, kitten...why exactly were you snooping about in the sacred texts?" His gaze was stern as he locked your eyes with his.

"I wasn't s-snooping-"

"Did Lixie here give you permission?"

"I, well...no..." You hated the way his intense stare was making you blurt out the truth, cheeks flushed. "I was just curious, that's all. So I read one of the b-books when he wasn't looking."

"Curious." Minho let go of your chin, chuckling. "Haven't you heard? Curiosity killed the cat." His eyes turned darker. "Although when it comes to this kitty, it might just be something else that leads to her demise..."

You swallowed, a fresh wave of arousal shooting through you as Minho smiled, saccharine sweet.

He glared at Felix, making him let go of you reluctantly.

"I'm going to fuck you now, kitten. Would you like that?"

You looked up at him. There was just something about him...his intensity, his demeanor...combined with his sharp beauty...he had you whiny and needy, keening in just seconds.

"Yes, Master, want you...want you so bad!" You mewled, just as Felix pulled out of you.

"Good girl."

In seconds, he gathered you in his arms, taking you over to the burgundy sofa in the corner of the room. "Now, let's do this ritual the right way, shall we? Felix, light some candles."

"Listen, brother, I really don't think this is a good idea and-"

"Do as I say."

Felix sighed, nodding as he went to gather some candles from the shelf. As he lit each one, his heart shuddered.

The two of them knew something you didn't.

Felix and Minho shared a demonic father, but had different mothers. Felix's mother happened to be human, while Minho's definitely wasn't. It was why Felix was able to have intercourse with humans without rendering them completely insane.

Minho, on the other hand...didn't possess even an ounce of humanity. He was draconian, otherworldly...

Felix glanced back, sadness taking over his features as he watched you, entranced as you stared at him.

He was worried you wouldn't last the night.

Minho leaned down, inhaling. He loved the way the human interacted to his touches, however featherlight they may be. He ran the tip of his fingers over your chin, down between your breasts. His fingers continued their descent until they reached your navel, his lust growing as he dipped his finger in, prompting a soft whimper from you. He fingered your navel gently for a few seconds, before he went even lower...finally reaching your clit.

If you were indeed human, you wouldn't be able to handle him or his cock. If you weren't, though?

The implications of it drove Minho giddy with excitement. He'd never had the pleasure of playing with someone as responsive and adorable as you were. Maybe you could even be his queen when he ascends his father's throne...

He shook his head, snapping himself out of his thoughts. First, he had to make sure of your origins. Then, he'd let himself daydream.

His fingers slowly pushed into your already dripping pussy, an appreciative groan leaving his lips as your soaking walls hugged his digits tightly.

Felix finished with the candles, his own erection growing impossibly harder as the lewd noises your pussy was making filled the room.

He turned, making his way to the sofa and glaring at his brother. He already harbored quite a bit of resentment for the older man, and this only served to deepen his hatred. Why did he have to steal away everything that was his?

Minho pulled his fingers out with a pop, sucking on his digits as he looked over at Felix. Your eyes opened halfway, registering Minho's naked form with some surprise. When did he remove his clothes? Then again, you knew the two men in the room didn't obey the same worldly rules you did.

Minho's eyes drifted down to Felix's erection, tutting under his breath.

"You know what...you can use her mouth, if you like."

Felix grumbled. It was better than nothing, but then again...He didn't want his brother to fuck you at all. Till now, you'd proven to be different from the usual human...most mortals couldn't even see their shop. However, he still felt that slight unease that came with not wanting to see you hurt. He'd only known you for a week but...deep inside, he didn't want to lose you.

Felix led his cock to your lips, eyes searching your lidded ones for discomfort. When he found none, he slid his length past your throat slowly, making you moan.

Minho's thick tip was rubbing at your folds. You could only feel the sensation of his head dragging up and down your slit...but it was more than enough for you to realize that he was bigger than everyone you'd ever had sex with.

When he finally pushed into you, you saw stars in your eyes. The pleasure was overwhelming...so sudden and potent that you screamed, Felix's eyes widening in concern as he pulled out.

"Are you okay?

"Y-yeah! For fuck's sake, it feels so gooooooood-" You choked out, clenching tightly around Minho's huge cock, his thrusts unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. It was almost satanic, the way he plunged into you repeatedly, stretching you out to your absolute limit.

Minho gritted his teeth as he gripped your waist tightly, his head thrown back in pleasure. "Fuck...ironic, but your pussy is heavenly, kitten..."

He moved you up and down his shaft, the feeling of your soft pussy opening up more and more with each stroke driving him crazed with lust. He'd never felt anything like this before.

"Felix, she's so fucking- shit....she's so fucking perfect-"

Felix frowned, sitting back as he watched. He couldn't help the envy from gripping his heart as he watched your pleasure-stricken face, your eyes rolling back in your head as Minho slid his girth deeper, hitting your sweet spot. He didn't want to stay any longer, but he couldn't help it. He really didn't want to leave you alone with his brother.

Minho drove into you faster as he felt his orgasm approaching, spurred on by the way you clenched tightly around him, clearly near your end as well.

"Kitten? 'M going to cum...going to fill your little pussy up..."

You whined, arching your back. "Can I cum, Master?"

He shook his head, growling as he rubbed your clit. "You'll cum when I tell you to."

Minho turned to the side as he kept abusing your pussy, his eyes landing on Felix...chuckling at his hand wrapped around his cock.

"Couldn't help yourself, could you?"

Felix let out a moan as he continued jerking himself off, standing up. He didn't care anymore...you looked so perfect like this, completely naked and at their mercy, mouth wide open and ready for him to use.

He came closer and shoved his cock down your throat roughly, not giving you time to adjust as he started fucking into you, his high close. You choked, caught off guard, but quickly got over it. Determined to be a good girl for them, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked on Felix's cock desperately, even as you tried to stave off your orgasm.

His length twitched in your mouth, and before you knew it, you felt warm cum spurting down your throat. Felix groaned, pulling out slowly.

"Felix, now. Get my blade and the book."

"Wait, what?"

"She's the one. I can tell. Quick. We need to get her blood at the exact time she hits her high, or I won't be able to complete my ritual."

"Wait- no! This is Y/n's ritual, the one for her rival. It's lower magic. The one you want to do...Come on, brother! You have to think before making a decision like this, you can't just make her your bride...we have to get Y/n's permission, too-"

Minho growled, his eyes flashing red as he glared at Felix. "I'm not performing a wedding ritual or anything, brother. I'm simply preserving her essence-"

Felix shook his head. His heart was thudding- he'd figured it out too, just like his brother had. You weren't mortal. You were special...and that meant Minho wanted to find out what exactly you were.

He felt sick as he thought of you getting married to his brother. No. You belonged here on Earth, with your family and your friends-

With him.

Before he could react, Minho's hand had materialized the exact knife he wanted.

Encrusted with rubies and made of demonic steel, the blade was far sharper than the one Felix had been teasing you with before.

Minho let go of your waist to grab your hand, bringing it up to his face. His hips continued their assault, making you whine and whimper.

Half the things they said were making no sense, and you were scared and yet...aroused, at the same time. You didn't know what was going on, but you wanted to listen to the man above you. You wanted to do everything he said, wanted to be his little pet...wanted to be his. Your brain felt like it was slowly getting rid of all rationality, the feeling of his cock making you whine louder.

"Kitten...I'm going to make a tiny little cut, right here on your finger. Is that okay?"

You nodded desperately, and Minho smiled at you in approval.

"Cum."

You finally let go, the pleasure washing over you in a tidal wave as you shook, convulsing with electricity as Minho drove the blade into the tip of your finger just enough to let out a few drops of blood.

Felix reluctantly conjured up an empty potion vial, capturing the drop with ease.

Minho lifted your finger to his mouth, sucking on the digit and running his tongue over the wound repeatedly. The metallic taste of your blood was the final push he needed to cum, thrusting deeper as he spilled himself into you.

When he let go of your finger, all the pain had disappeared. You noticed your finger was healed...the skin just as clean and soft as it was before.

You whined as he pulled out, conjuring another vial to gather some of your mixed fluids that was leaking out from between your thighs. He yawned as he handed it to Felix, who corked it with a frown on his face, setting it next to the vial with your blood in it. He knew what Minho wanted to do...he wanted to perform a ritual with the vials, wanted to make sure you were the one for him. It wasn't a wedding ritual by any means...but it was a pre-requisite, and the thought saddened Felix. Maybe his feelings for you were deeper than he'd thought.

Slowly, Minho gathered you into his arms, patting your hair gently and kissing your forehead.

"You were a good kitten, Y/n. How are you feeling?"

"I'm f-feeling okay..."

Minho made a face of delight at Felix. "She can still talk and formulate sentences!" He mouthed, prompting a half-hearted smile from his brother.

"D'you want to cuddle?"

You pouted. "Mmhmm! But..I want Lix to come cuddle too."

Felix looked up at that, his eyes widening.

You still wanted him?

Minho met his eyes, giving him a small smile. "Sure, baby. Lix can come cuddle as well."

You grinned, looking over at Felix and making grabby hands. Giggling, the boy quickly dropped onto the couch, wrapping his arms around your torso and humming in content.

"You know..I don't mind sharing her." Minho whispered, his fingers still stroking your hair. "Really?" Felix asked, looking down at you.

"If she wants to be shared, that is."

"I don't mind!" You chirped. "Life is boring here, anyway. Where did you guys say you lived again?"

The two men shared a look.

Minho sighed as he stroked your hair. "I can't wait to introduce you to our dad."

"Your dad?"

"Yep! Don't worry, he's nice. And I think he'd like you."

You frowned slowly as you remembered something Felix had told you. Snippets of their conversation flashed through your brain as your stomach filled with something akin to dread and anticipation.

"Who did you say your dad was, again?"

"Oh, what? Ah, that doesn't really matter. He's just the king of the Underworld."

#skzsmutnet #felix smut #minho smut #lee know smut #yongbok smut #felix angst #felix fluff #minho fluff #skz smut #skz fluff #skz angst #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst

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vegalocity · 3 years

Text

The Tinkerer (Red Groom AU)

It took me a hot second to decide who i wanted to be Miracle Max because there was no way I WASN'T gonna put that scene in this AU

I decided on Syntax bc the other spiders haven't shown up yet and so why not

The house was little more than a glorified workshop; there were shelves of research notes and half finished odds and ends puled up on an open wall near the back, and Xiaojiao was unsure of whether they should be approaching the front door or coming in through the workshop area. Especially since the front door had a very clear 'No Longer In Business' sign hanging from it.

All the same it seemed like Sandy had all the confidence in the world in this 'Tinkerer' as he was known. As his usual grin didn't waver as he shifted his grip on the Not-Monkey King's body and approached the front door. Xiaojiao fell into step beside him of course, and upon Sandy's polite knock stationed herself between her friend and the question of what will be coming next.

A small peek window opened and Xiaojiao was suddenly making eye contact with a pair of very bright green eyes, nearly bioluminescent in their vibrancy, surrounded by a pale purple complexion not unlike the late Spider Queen's.

“We're closed.” The Demon stated firmly.

“Are you The Tinkerer?” She asked in reply.

The demon at the door snarled with a mouth of sharp teeth. “I was. And thank you for reminding me of what that wretched Prince did to my reputation, Why don't you throw a handful of dirt in my face while you're at it! Scram.” he shut the peek window. And Xiaojiao was far less polite when she knocked.

“I said beat it! Or I'm calling the brute squad.” The Tinkerer opened the little window again and glared her down, but Sandy leaned in at the offer.

“I'm on the brute squad.” he waved.

“You are the brute squad.” The Tinkerer agreed.

“Look, we heard you were one of the best healers in the region with your experiments and we're in desperate need.” Xiaojiao tried again.

“What part of 'was' did you not understand? Past tense. I'm Not in that business anymore. Besides-” He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Why would you want a disgraced tinkerer to have a look at whoever you've got in mind anyway? I might kill them.” he said that last part in a mocking tone, clearly imitating the Prince in the false posh accent. The only thing stronger then The Tinkerer's sarcasm seemed to be his bitterness.

“He's already dead?” She tried one last time, and this time the Tinkerer seemed interested. He leaned forward a bit to peer at the Not-Monkey King.

“He is, hm?” He paused for a second, eyes flicking into nothing as he thought something over, before eventually shrugging. “Sure, bring him in. I'll take a look.”

The little home indeed was as small as the door implied, and in the living space there was in fact an extra door that lead to the outside workshop area.

Scanning the room for anything flat enough to lay the Not-Monkey King down on, Xiaojiao eventually started to clear the table of books—and there were many books in this house.

“Careful with those!” The Tinkerer chided but as she turned to hand them off instead of a more average demon aggravated and ready to take the tomes from her, she was met with a pair of metallic prongs infront of her, not dissimilar to the legs of a spider demon, and peering to the side a bit she saw that indeed, they were sprouting from The Tinkerer's back.

...Huh... Spider Queen had let on that she was the only spider demon in the area, to think there was another of her kind so nearby without her knowledge before she'd died... The Tinkerer's spider legs sprouted from his back which WAS a little odd since she'd always been told the hips were the usual area for spider legs, but he was using the other pair to better arrange the table for Sandy to put Not-Monkey King down onto it, so it didn't seem like they were a hindrance. She placed the books in the spare two prongs and said tomes were carefully deposited on an empty chair.

The Tinkerer strode over to the body and hemmed and hawed for a moment. “Well I've certainly seen worse.” He continued to prod at the body, and the running clock began to hold over Xiaojiao's head.

“Sir we're in a rush here-”

“Never rush a scientist, Miss.” The Tinkerer responded evenly. “Nothing makes an experiment go wrong quicker than rushing the scientist.” He fretted over the body a little longer, and his attention was on the corpse still as he spoke again.

“So how much is this worth to you both?”

“All we've got is Sixty-five.”

The Tinkerer scoffed. “I never work for so little.” He paused for a moment, considering. “Except for that one time, but that was a very noble cause.”

Xiaojiao thought fast “Sir this is a noble cause.” Though no one ever said she was any good at improvising. “His wife cannot leave the house after the accident, children on the brink of starvation-”

The Tinkerer was unmoved. “You're not a gifted liar, are you?”

Fine, if she couldn't make this happen with sympathy she may as well tell the truth. “I need him to help me avenge my father. Murdered these last ten years-”

“Your first story was better.” The Tinkerer cut her off with a scoff. “Probably owes you money, doesn't he?” he turned away from the body to rummage through a crate of strange looking devices. “Now where did I put the- Ah.” He pulled out a pump looking thing. “Well if you're not going to be giving me a straight answer I'll ask him myself.” Her thoughts spluttered for a moment.

“He-... He's dead he can't speak-”

The Tinkerer chuckled. “Oh, so now you're the expert, miss?” he shook his head. “No, your friend here is only mostly dead.” He began to turn a few knobs on the device before gently prying the Not-Monkey King's mouth open. “There's a very distinct difference between mostly dead and all dead you see.” He began to turn the crank on the device and slowly the Not-Monkey King's chest began to inflate. “If he were all dead there'd only be one thing to do.”

“What would that be?”

The Tinkerer smirked “Go through his pockets and see if there's anything worth selling. But Mostly Dead, is Slightly Alive. So there's far more options.”

Soon enough he stopped turning the crank and lifted the device from the Not-Monkey King's mouth. After handing the device off to Sandy, whom helpfully carefully set it back inside the box, the Tinkerer leaned in close to the body.

“Hey! Hello in there! Hey- What's so important? You got anything here worth living for?” he then placed both hands and two of his spider legs onto the Not-Monkey King's chest and pushed.

At first the wheezing noise didn't sound like much of anything, but then Xiaojiao was able to make out-

“'True Love'! You heard him!” She leaned forward to examine the body herself for a moment, but other than the faintest moving of his words, the Not-Monkey King remained still. And peeking back up at the Tinkerer he looked pale, mauve skin suddenly more of a sickly lavender. “You couldn't ask for a more noble cause than that, sir.”

“Well Miss, true love certainly would be a noble cause of all noble causes.” He agreed, before blinking once and shaking his head. “But that's not what he said! I've been hearing mostly dead groans for the better side of thirty years now, and I know 'To blave' when I hear it.” He waved a hand dismissively as he turned away from her. “And since you seem like those whom may not know 'To Blave' is an archaic way to say 'to bluff'. So here's my read on things, you lot were gambling on something or another and he was cheating so-”

“Oh for the love of- You CanNOT be serious, Syntax!” a raspy voice piped up, and emerging from one of the small rooms was another spider demon, this one looking far more traditional, with the obvious mandibles and four green eyes instead of The Tinkerer's two.

“Huntsman I am in the middle of something can you just-”

“You're in the middle of making yourself look like an obstinate fool that's what you're in the middle of!” The other spider, Huntsman, approached and grabbed The Tinkerer (Syntax apparently) by the arm. “What kind of coward has my brother turned into that he can't even say the truth when he refuses to do what he poured his life's work into?!”

“You have no idea what you're talking about-”

“You head him,You know what he said-” Huntsman turned to the two of them and were it not for the sadistic gleam in his eye Xiaojiao would have thought he was honestly trying to help them. More likely he just wanted to see his brother squirm. “He's turned into a coward ever since the prince fired him! He's been stuck in a rut for months now!”

“Hey! You said you wouldn't bring that up! You swore you'd let that drop!” The Tinkerer's voice went shrill with anger, and the smirk on Huntsman's face widened, showing off his far more pronounced fangs.

“What? That you got fired? You got fired!” and then in a routine Xiaojiao would more expect out of a play than from a pair of fully grown brothers, Huntsman began to chase Syntax around the little room, loudly crowing 'Fired' over and over again while Syntax made vague noises of distress. Eventually Huntsman got hold of his brother again, and this time he maybe actually looked concerned.

“What would mother say if she saw you puttering about like this?! You know how much she went on about 'True Love' and all that ilk! And Sure Goliath was the only one who ever believed her, but you don't even have the decency to say why you won't help?!” Syntax had his hands clapped over his ears and seemed to be trying to loudly tune Huntsman's words out. “What, one good for nothing Prince gives you the boot and you don't have a reputation anymore?! Where in the world did your Spider Pride run off to because sure as anything else it ain't here anymore!” Wait he meant THIS prince, right?

“This man is Red Son's lover!” she cut in. “If you heal him he'll stop at nothing to stop the Prince's wedding!”

That gave both spider brothers pause, and something sparked to life behind Syntax's expression, he took a step away from his brother and leaned over the Not-Monkey King's body to lean in close to Xiaojiao.

“Hold on, hold on. I heal him and the Prince suffers?”

Xiaojiao leaned in and shot him as big a smirk as she could muster. “What's more humiliating than having your groom run off on the day of your wedding? He'd be mortified.” Syntax smiled back at her, and cackled.

“Now that is a noble cause.” a pair of his spider legs rummaged through the bin again before pulling out a set of adjustable glasses. “Give me the sixty-five, I'm on the job.”

“You're welcome.” Huntsman sarcastically called out before sitting down in a nearby chair and crossing his legs.

Sandy seemed to take an interest in him, wandering over beside the spider and striking up conversation, but Xiaojiao had her eyes on the Tinkerer, and her hopes.

–

“So that's gonna heal him up?”

“Something along those lines. He'll be more alive than he is now.” By this point all three of them were leaned in watching The Tinkerer put his last touches on the cure pill.

“Huh, chocolate coating and everything” Huntsman chiming in every so often for color commentary. “Of course you're enough of a petty bastard to pull out all the stops for revenge.”

“You should wait about fifteen minutes so everything's got time to settle.” Syntax continued as though he hadn't spoken, finishing up the pill and sliding it into a leather pouch. “Oh, and don't let him go swimming for awhile, about an hour or so.” He handed the pouch to Xiaojiao whom quickly slid it into her pocket, and Sandy lifted the body beneath his arm again.

“Thank you so much for this Tinkerer.”

Syntax rolled his eyes. “Just make sure someone sees the Prince suffering so you can send me a letter detailing it.”

And then they were off.

“Don't die!” Huntsman called out as they left.

“Have fun storming the castle!” Syntax added on.

–

“Think it'll work?”

“Do I look like a miracle worker to you?”

–

But soon enough they were at the mouth of the mountain entrance. A small wall the only separating Xiaojiao, Sandy, and their only hope from what was supposed to be about 30 demons.

Key word, 'supposed to'.

“Xiaojiao there's at least sixty men there.”

“What?!” She hissed and poked her head out the side to confirm Sandy's observation. And sure enough-

“I could probably take about ten on my own, how about you my friend?”

“Twenty, assuming we're fighting to incapacitate.” Sandy added on very carefully.

“Damn it all.” She hissed. Before glancing back down at the body. “Well, no matter, we've got him. He'll think of something.”

“Has it been fifteen minutes?”

“We can't afford to wait any longer. The wedding's in half an hour!” She shuffled with the body until he was propped up against the wall and took the pill out.

It slid down his throat quickly and concisely, possibly aided by whatever swallowing reflex remained in his mostly-dead state.

“How long do we have to wait, before we know the experiment works?”

“Your guess is as good as mine-” A voice between them interrupted Xiaojiao

“I'll tear you both apart! I'll take you both together-!” Sandy covered the Not-Monkey King's mouth to cut off his desperate threats.

“I guess not very long.”

“Hey, glad to see you awake!” She went for the friendly approach, he seemed sympathetic to her plight when they were about to duel after all-

When Sandy uncovered his mouth the man remained quiet. “Why won't my arms move?” he finally settled on.

“You've been mostly dead all day, friend.” Sandy calmly explained, Xiaojiao quickly adding on that they'd taken him to The Tinkerer to heal him up before Sandy cut back in.

“You know I feel kinda bad just calling you 'The Man in Black' in my head, but now that we know you're human it feels kinda weird to call you Monkey King too, so do you happen to have a name for us to call you by?”

The man paused again glancing between the two of them. “... Who are you two? Are we still enemies?” He glanced behind him. “Why am I resting on this wall?” but the his expression hardened over. “Where's Red Son?!”

“Okay I can explain-” Wait- “...No there's too much. Let me sum it up, but Sandy's right I'm gonna need that name first.”

"Xiaotian. Now tell me.”

“Well Xiaotian, Red Son's marrying the prince in about half an hour, so what we've got to do is break in, stop the wedding, steal your fire demon back, and make our escape. After I kill the Six Eared Macaque.”

Xiaotian's expression tightened and his fingers began to twitch nervously.

“I'll admit that doesn't leave a lot of time for hesitating.”

“Oh hey Xiaotian! You just wiggled your fingers!” Sandy chirped. “That's great!”

“I've still got something resembling the immortality Monkey King loaned me I guess.” Xiaotian agreed. “What are we facing against?”

“One mountain entrance, guarded by sixty demons.” She grabbed hold of his shoulders and lifted him just enough that his head lolled back and he could see the gate.

“Okay, what do WE have?”

“Your mind, my sword, Sandy's muscle.” …. well that sounded pathetic now that she said it outloud-

“That's it? That's pathetic."... but he didn't have to SAY it-

"Maybe if I had a WEEK I could think of a plan but this?” he shook his head slightly.

“Hey! You shook your head too! You're getting better!” Sandy was clearly nervous, with how bright and sunny he was trying to be. Xiaotian tilted his head to the side just enough to turn to see him.

“Your strength, my mind, and her sword against sixty men to stop the love of my life from getting married and then assassinated by a power hungry tyrant-to-be and you think a little head jiggle is worth celebrating?” He hissed and Xiaojiao was about to throw out a hand in Sandy's deference, but as usual the implied insult did little to dampen Sandy's hard earned chill.

“I mean I'd hardly consider it asking for a lot to have a little more to work with! if we had a wheelbarrow that would be something!”

Wait...

“Sandy what did we do with that Wheelbarrow those demon twins had?”

“I think we just left it there after they ran off.”

Xiaotian's expression pinched. “Why didn't you mention that earlier?” But nonetheless she could see the gears beginning to turn in his head. “Ugh... Maybe if we had a dark cloak I could do that plan but-”

“Yeah no, sorry about that, friend.” But Sandy it seemed had other ideas.

“Will this work?” a long dark cloak was pulled from behind him.

“W-... Where did you get that?”

“At the Tinkerer's! That Huntsman guy said it was made for his brother but it was too big and it fit me, so he said I should just take it!”

“Alright alright. Long Xiaojiao was it?”

“Just Xiaojiao is fine.”

“Can you pluck one of my hairs for me and hold it up?”

“Uhhh?”

“Trust me.”

So she curled a finger around a strand of hair and plucked it from Xiaotian's head before holding it up before him.

He blew gently on the piece and directed her to toss it forward.

There was a shower of golden sparks and the hair had turned into a staff much like the one he'd been wielding when they'd met.

“Alright help me up and I'll explain things.” It was a bit of a struggle, Xiaotian had to be sandwiched between Xiaojiao and Sandy “Can one of you attach that to my back?” Sandy reached down and did so.

“You can't even lift it!” Xiaojiao huffed.

“Yeah but they don't know that.” Xiaotian countered, and... she didn't have a counterargument. “So it's going to be a mess when we start this whole thing, one problem after another-”

“I'll say.” She huffed. “I've got three off the top of my head, when we're inside how do I find the Macaque, when I'm done with him how do I find you again, and when I find you again how do we all escape?”

Sandy whom had been basically holding Xiaotian's head up for him during this exchange, tilted the man's head to rest against his chest. “Come on Xiaojiao, lay off the guy, he's had a hard day.”

“Right, Sorry.”

Sandy bobbed Xiaotian's head in an approximation of a nod.

“Hey Xiaojiao?”

“What is it?”

“I hope we win.”

#Red groom AU #Monkie Kid #LMK #Qi Xiaotian #Long Xiaojiao #lmk Sandy #lmk Syntax #lmk Huntsman #mk Sandy #Princess bride Au #Spicynoodleshipping #Vega writes stories too

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shintorikhazumi · 3 years

Text

“CABBAGE”

A/N: First, I wanna apologize to the Diakko day mods that reviewed a completely different fic for me that was supposed to be my entry, but then... boom new diakko day entry. I’m sorry ;-;, I just couldn’t figure out a flow that would still have what I had in mind. Uwu, sorry for using up your precious time.

Soulmate, non-magic? AU. Cliche stuff, common trope. STILL. I’m using it. Fun fact, I slaved away for this for two/three days hoho~ peak procrastination, don’t encourage it. Also on ao3, but I have a habit of posting full chaps on tumblr. Teehee. This is... long... (could have been a crazy multi-chap, ey?) but I guess that’s what you get for trying to fit a full story with an AU setting that needs to be established. Sorry if it feels slow with regards to reaching DiAkko, but don’t worry, from when they come along til the end, you’ll have loads of them. Sorry for the pacing tho :((( I also apologize in advance if there are some OOC bits that y’all might not like. Not too confident in it, but hope you all like it. I DID NOT BETA READ THIS ANYMORE BECAUSE I’M TIRED OF THE LENGTH OF IT LMAO. Anywho...

Happy DiAkko day! Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

It was a normal thing, really. She had grown up with a thin chain slung around her neck, attached to another tiny metal thingy resting against the skin of her collarbone. On cold days, she would keep it in her pocket because god knows how weirdly tingly and-or painful that felt on bare skin. Sure she could have chosen to just wear it so that others could see it- actually, wasn’t she going against society’s rules when she hid it? She was, wasn’t she. Heck, it surprised her now that she’s realized it. Why hasn’t she been arrested yet? This is a crime isn’t it? Her mom, her dad, would they get to say their farewells once she got incarcerated-

“I can see it on your face, that you’re thinking about something totally stupid again.”

“Shut up, Sucy.”

“Just saying.” Sucy shrugs, going back to working on their chemistry lab activity. “I mean, I kinda just want you to focus on what we’re doing. Unless you want me to slip in some stuff in your project there.” She grinned in that evil little way the brunette had come to know her for.

“If I know you, which I do, you’ve probably already done that.”

“Akko! I can’t believe you’d accuse me of something like hurting my friends.” Sucy really couldn’t sell the ‘feigning shock’ act as her monotone words did little to convey emotion, and that forced gasp was probably just everyone else’s normal manner of breathing. Which was scary, now that she thought about it. Did that mean Sucy’s normal breathing was even less obvious? Oh god, now that Akko thinks about it, she would sometimes joke in her head about how she often wondered whether or not Sucy was actually dead during sleepovers.

‘I mean, come on! She sleeps like a corpse in a coffin! And she always looks so pale-’

“I knew you were thinking about something stupid again.” Once more, her thoughts were brought to a halt by that lazed, snarky voice that could only belong to her best friend who shared her mutual desire to strangle one another.

“I was just wondering if you were undead or something.”

“Screw you.”

“Wish I’d find someone to do that...” Akko muttered under her breath, to which Sucy sighed. She had heard it, and immediately knew what the Japanese was about to get hung up on. Again. Like she always did.

A hand reaching over to pat her back in consolation, but Akko felt a little worse, feeling that small, hard material lightly tapping the area along with the rest of Sucy’s hand. Sucy chuckled, sympathetically. “I know you’re constantly in a state of heat, Akko-” Or not.

“I am not, you bitch!”

Sucy could stand to ignore that. “-But really. Are you really that obsessed with finding your soulmate? We’re all young and all that jazz that those old hags keep yapping about. You have a lot of time, you know?” She smiled a sincere smile this time, trying her best to comfort her friend. “And besides, even though it’s something written on official print that most people find their soulmates at sixteen, most isn’t all.”

Akko felt a little better. Sucy could be an asshole, but as a best friend, she really knew what to say to Akko sometimes.

“-That’s basic English that even you can understand.”

She takes it back. She takes some of her heartfelt gratitude back. “I hate you.”

“Aww, I abhor you with all of my non-existent heart as well.” Sucy smirked, swatting Akko’s attacking hand away. “Muah~” She threw in a wink for good measure.

“Ughh, oh gosh... Professor Croix!” Akko bemoaned to their supervising teacher. “Can I please use the emergency shower? And eyewash. I think Miss Manbavaran got her unholy sappiness spilled all over me.”

Croix sighed, rubbing the spot between her eyes with her thumb and index finger. Not this again. “Can’t you two ever pipe down in my class?” She sighed. “PLEASE?!”

“Nope.” -Was the deadpanned response.

“I now see why you guys are friends.” Croix groaned, walking over to their table. “You little shits just won’t give me a break. And yet, you’re so behaved with Chariot.”

“Hey! Sensei, cursing your students is bad!” Akko scolded, before adding, “Besides, this and that are separate matters. Prof Chariot is just sweet and so nice, you can’t bear the weight of guilt of hurting her. Right?” Akko turned to Sucy who just nodded.

“Shut it, Kagari. That is not a valid rea- wait... maybe it is.”

“See?”

Her head was starting to hurt. Just why had she decided to be a teacher in place of any other job involving chemistry? Really, there were so many other things she could have done!

Just as she was about to return the verbal jabs, a gentler voice inserted itself into their conversation. “Umm... guys, professor, the other students are being distracted by your... um... exchange.”

Three pairs of eyes blinked, before two widened in apologetic shock, while the other seemed to gleam in pleasure. “Sorry, Lotte.”

“Sucy, please try to look even the slightest bit sorry.”

And disappointment replaced them right away.

“Tsk.”

“Sucy... we will be having a talk back in our room.” Akko heard that audible gulp, reaching for her friend’s hand under the table, squeezing support.

“Don’t die.” She whispered.

“You too, Akko.”

“Noooo! How? I don’t even live with you two!”

Lotte was about to respond that Akko always stayed over, anyway, but the frantic screams of their teacher took the words far away from her mind.

“Akko! Akko! Your solution is bubbling! Wait, that’s not supposed to do that-” Croix’s concern was justified as in a matter of a split second, everyone in their immediate circle was covered in some bright pink substance. “SHOWER, EMERGENCY SHOWER-”

“W-we won’t all fit, Professor!” Lotte had begun tearing up, wondering if she was about to die from whatever toxic chemical their beloved dunce must have mixed in. Maybe if she prayed to something somewhere out there, the spirits of nature would take hers and maybe she could live as some kind of forest sprite in some alternate magical world, and crap, she was becoming delusional.

“Hoho~ What a nice outcome~.”

“Manbavaran!”

“Relaaaax, I switched out all of Akko’s components for some of my stuff. It was a precaution.” She smiled, unbelievably innocent-looking. “...and maybe added a little surprise.”

“Su.CY!” Akko lunged forward before being stopped mid-air, caught by the collar.

“Akko. Sucy. I’ll see you in the office later.”

“...your office?” They seemed amazingly unfazed. They’d probably been so used to being there that they must see it as a lounge of sorts. But no, Croix wasn’t going to be defeated by teenage rascals that were the cause of her hair prematurely turning white. No.

“Nope.”

“Th-then, Finneran’s?” They weren’t completely scared of the aforementioned teacher. She just gave them such an earful, sometimes they’d joke to Lotte about needing hearing aids at some point.

“No.” Croix’s smile grew despicably wide and dark. “Holbrooke’s.”

Lotte sighed in sympathy. Well, she’d expected this development sooner or later. “I’ll wait for you by the usual bench.”

//-//-//-//-//

A week of suspension. One week off school, no school or class-related updates allowed from classmates, and only check-ins and work drops from teachers. That was... surprisingly light after all the trouble they’d accumulated over the past first month of the semester. Or maybe it was because it was just the start of the school year that the headmistress really wanted as little to go wrong as possible. Preferably nothing would go wrong. Or it could also be the fact that they were in their senior year, and the teachers really wanted all their students to graduate.

But you could never tell with a group as rowdy as the ‘witches’ of Luna Nova International Institute. They were rightly labeled as such with the cursed terrors they had inflicted, every incident they’ d caused all over the school premises and beyond.

If it wasn’t Akko and Sucy, it was Jasminka somehow being able to sneak in and out of the classroom and buy out the entire snack section of the cafeteria, and making it back to class without anyone noticing. With her size, it was some kind of scary magic trick. If it wasn’t that either, then it was Constanze constantly installing who-know’s-what in the schools’ computers. It it wasn’t her, then it was Amanda and Hannah pulling at hairs, or cutting at each other’s necks, then the next thing you know they’re either making out in public, or making out in public... with Barbara. There was also Lotte when she was in her wild states of fangirling after a new Night Fall release. People tended to keep a safe distance from her during those times. (She’d once shaken a girl unconscious out of her sheer excitement at the mention of, ‘Oh, I read the latest release too’.)

Never a dull day with them.

Scarily so.

Holbrooke had smiled at them kindly as always, but there was just a little something else behind it that felt like Akko and Sucy were about to die on the spot.

“Please. I beg of you. Your first two years, we tried to overlook all your mischief as it did not pose any threat to the masses, only towards you and your friend group... well... physical harm or threat, at least. I don’t know how many people are psychologically scarred because of you.” She had said that, but they didn’t know if it was a joke, a serious statement, or both.

After being given twenty blank pages to write their usual apologies on- they shared a laugh, thinking back on when Amanda got fifty-, the pair made their merry way to the bench just by the school gate where Lotte sat, chatting alongside and excited Barbara, a Hannah with a fond smile directed at her life-time partner, and Amanda who was carrying both their bags for them, waving goodbye to Constanze and Jasminka who looked like they were just leaving.

“Aww, didn’t get to catch my little friend.” Akko pouted, wanting to hug Conz as she always did. She was so cute. And soft. Like a plush. Always calming Akko down.

“She’s gonna shoot one of her tiny lazers at you again. Those actually burn.” Amanda reminded, laughing as she remembered what Lotte told her about why they were late. “And I heard you two got some quality time with the big woman upstairs?” Her grin widened. “How many?”

“Twenty.” They responded in synch, hands aching from the memory.

“Heh... not bad. Doesn’t beat my record though.” She cackled, slinging an arm over Hannah’s shoulder, Akko not missing the glint on her left ring finger. How nice.

“Don’t egg them on, idiot.” Hannah sighed, peeling the limb off her. “And you all got nothing on these two.” She pointed a thumb to the still excitedly conversing pair. “They wrote a fucking novel for their apology. Literally. But the teachers were so tired of reading that they weren’t made to write apology notes anymore.”

“Hey! Cleaning the bathrooms aren’t the best either!” Barbara, now done with her talk with Lotte, turned to pinch the ginger’s arm.

“I mean, we all have cleaned them at some point.”

“True, true.” The group nodded in consensus.

“...”

“This is not a very good fact.” Barbara pointed out, and they all laughed, the ones seated slowly getting up, everyone ready to go home.

As they exited the gate, they all waved their goodbyes, Akko and her two best friends heading one way, and Amanda and her girls the other. Just as the sun was setting at that hour in the afternoon, red eyes caught the reflected glimmer of light against the three bands on each girl’s ring finger. Those same eyes traveled to similar hoops donned by the pair walking quietly in front of her, hands brushing by one another.

Really. She was happy all her friends had found their destined ones. Some partners may look to be as mismatched as Sucy and Lotte, and some cases were as rare as the three-way between the snarky British girls and their American idiot, but... the system had worked some magic in perfectly matching people, it seemed. They all seemed happy with who they had.

Akko didn’t know if this was some kind of spiritual occurrence like fate or the likes, or if this was just one ginormous scientific experiment on billions of guinea pigs across the globe, but... Akko wanted in on it too.

Placing a hand over where her heart was, she felt for the metal against her chest, clutching it through her uniform blouse.

Just when would her “soulmate” come?

//-//-//-//-//

Their first stop, as per usual, was the small apartment complex that Lotte and Sucy lived in. When their parents had discovered that these children had found the one meant for them, they were more than willing to help the girls move in together, and get used to a life-long companionship. They trusted them as they were both capable and level-headed, and Akko was so happy that her friends were happy. She always was.

Lotte invited her in. As always. And Akko should’ve accepted like she always did as well, but somehow, today... she just didn’t feel like it. So she made a random excuse, something believable enough, like how her parents had asked her to make dinner because they’d be home late, and the Fin just had to let her go, even if she felt something was off, and that the brunette might just be lying.

There had been a time when Lotte and Sucy had just gotten together that Akko seemed to distance herself from her best friends. They soon found out it was out of her concern that she might be intruding on their relationship, or bothering them, taking away from the time the pair could spend alone together as a couple. Obviously, they had never seen Akko as a nuisance, and were saddened she would think of such things.

With a talk, reassurances, and clarifications in place, their bond as friends became ever stronger, and more trusting.

But Akko still wanted to be considerate. Out of love.

...and maybe a little envy that made her want to distance herself from the sight of people with fulfilled partnerships.

Maybe she was just a sore, lonely loser who couldn’t truly be happy for her friends.

Who knows.

After jogging the rest of the way home, a simple five-minute distance away from the apartments, she reached that familiar wooden gate, the name plate “Kagari” shiny and clean, like her mother liked it. Pushing the swinging portion open, she walked up the driveway, smiling at her share little garden with her Mama. Looks like the vegetables were growing up healthy. Maybe she could try some new dishes out and have her friends give her feedback. The usual agenda.

“I’m home!” She called out in the foyer, shoes slipping off and set neatly to the side. A habit strongly instilled in her since childhood. “Mama?” The scents of vegetables and meat, and was that... cookies! Her mom was baking cookies! “Mama!”

Padding down the hall and entering the open living room, she found her father splayed out, snoring on the couch with a newspaper covering his face. Giggling to herself, she continued her way into the kitchen, spotting the one she’d been looking for, ear buds in and swaying to some music only she could hear. Akko smiled. Her mom was so youthful, she was such a girl. With her bright pink apron and bunny slippers, and impeccable manners and home skills.

“Ma~ma!” She called, hugging her mother’s waist from behind.

The older woman yelped, spatula flying into the air, but with Akko smoothly catching it and licking off some of the sauce on it. She tried not to look into those disproving eyes, and simply released her mother and went to wash the utensil.

“Akko...”

“I said I was home! You didn’t hear me, mama. This is revenge.” She grinned cheekily, her mother sighing before a fond smile played on her lips.

“Fine, fine. But just this once, okay?”

“Hai~” Akko gave a mock salute, enjoying this moment with her mother as the her co-brunette rolled her eyes fondly. Akko walked up to her, kissed her cheek, and attempted to “appease” her mother by offering her exemplary culinary services- or so her dad had once claimed. “Let me help you out?”

Unable to keep up the annoyed act longer, her mother slipped into giggles, turning to gather her daughter into her arms and pepper kisses all over her hair. “Thank you, baby. Please chop me up some of the veggies in the bag by the sink.”

“Roger!”

And they shared another laugh at the voice coming from the other room, screaming a sleepy, “WHO’S ROGER?! ANOTHER BOY-”

The usual always felt so good.

//-//-//-//-//

Dinner had been fairly uneventful. Her cousin- the relation fairly distant- who currently lived with them wasn’t home still, just like always. She knew he was always busy at school, and with the little business her father had him manage, so that was a normal thing as well. She had ended up just confessing to her parents what she’d done in school this time, in hopes that her being honest instead of them finding out via a phone call from school first would ease the inevitable punishment awaiting her.

It... kind of helped. Kind of.

Her father had laughed so hard, clearly amused at her and Sucy’s antics. Her mother sighed deeply, not knowing if she should even still be disappointed anymore. Akko and school accidents and incidents weren’t uncommon at all, after all. It wasn’t a surprise. Really, the biggest school-related surprise they’d gotten was the fact that Akko wanted to take a science-related course instead of an arts one. They knew it had always been her dream to be a performer. So why was she taking that when Luna Nova offered the Arts as well. It was something they would forever wonder about.

Akko was usually so open and honest with them in just about everything, but this was one thing she would never clear up with them. And they could never understand why. There was definitely a deep reason behind it. But why did she have the need to keep it to herself? They worried, but they also believed in her, that she would tell them if she needed to. She was that kind of child.

They hoped.

Kissing her parents good night, She walked away from the kitchen banter of who should wash the dishes between the two adults, and trudged up the wooden stairs to her room. Akko had offered, but they said she should just rest up. She looked like she had a long day. Besides, she had a week to help out at home. Akko shivered at the thought of being worked like a mule. That was a joke of course, but her mama could be so Spartan sometimes.

Her door clicked close, and she immediately found herself face-first in the soft covers of the lower bunk of her bed, lights of the room still down. Originally, the Kagari’s had been expecting twins because of how large Akko’s mother’s stomach had been. Apparently, they were simply blessed with a very healthy baby. (She was a fair bit taller than her mother, and had a good height for a Japanese woman). As Akko grew up, however, she insisted to keep the bunk as it seemed like it could be useful to turn into her own little fort. Plus, sleepovers wouldn’t be much of a problem in terms of space.

Flipping onto her back, she stared at the glow-in-the-dark stars pasted onto the top of her ceiling. It was fairly high up, with this side of the house being designed a little differently, the roof of Akko’s room forming a dome. This was at her request as a child after attending one of Professor Chariot’s public lectures on stars as a child. Akko had since then been hooked to them, the fading glow of the stickers allowing her sights of the constellations she’d painstakingly formed, sticking each point one by one with the help of her dad and a ladder.

She had been saving up lately to buy one of those small, portable planetarium projectors. She didn’t want to outright ask her parents for one, and she had taken a few secret part-time jobs to make up for the amount she needed. Little by little, she was getting close to her goal. She’d have one someday. One day.

Her eyes felt heavy all of a sudden, an arm moving to rest over them as her breathing slowed, thoughts drifting to stars and constellations, and myths, and tales, and fate, and...

Her world shut down.

//-//-//-//-//

“Atsuko. Atsuko, get up. Akko. Wake up, bloody hell, you sleep like a log!”

“Mmrrnghmm... eh?” Blinking her eyes open, she spotted a young man, brown hair just like hers, dressed in a cardigan and slacks, looking ready to go out on some date, or the like, or maybe he had more business as usual. “Andrew.”

“Akko.” He responded dryly. “It’s eight in the morning. I know it’s the weekend, but really, sleeping in isn’t a good habit.”

Rolling over to shield her eyes from the intrusive sunlight and man, she waved him away sloppily, ready to get back to rest, body feeling heavy for some reason.

“Akko!”

“You really do take my mom’s place when she isn’t around, Andrew.” Akko complained, sitting up, if only to get Andrew to pipe down. “Alright, I get it.” She rubbed the sleep away from her eyes, stretching her body out and taking in a breath of fresh air. “But if you’re here, I’m figuring my parents are out?”

She received a nod, followed by an explanation. “They said they had a picnic date planned for the whole day.”

Akko pouted. “Aww, and they didn’t think to take me along? How mean~”

“They tried to wake you up, believe me.” Andrew scoffed. “You could sleep through world war two without problem, however.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Get out, please.”

“Later.”

“I’m asking nicely.” Akko whined, slipping out of her bed, realizing she hadn’t changed out of her uniform last night.

“After I tell you about our plans for today.”

A well-shaped brow raised in suspicion at the words. “Our plans?” Akko voiced. “What do you mean. ‘our plans’? I don’t have any plans of spending time with you today, as far as my knowledge tells me.”

“Not that you have mu-” Andrew was about to throw in the usual insulting jab, playful banter, but refrained. He did actually need Akko to go with him.

“Hmm?” The lack of a biting response didn’t sit quite well with Akko. Something was up with her cousin, and she was sure that she was about to find out just what.

There was an awkward pause in the air before the older boy cleared his throat; maybe he should begin with getting on her good side. “L-lovely weather we’re having today.”

“Just tell me what you want from me and leave.”

“We’re going to the mall, please help me.”

“Why?”

“...”

“Why?” Akko pressed. If Andrew wasn’t going to give her a good enough explanation, she wasn’t going to move a single inch.

“...It’s Denise’s birthday soon.” He confessed, and Akko actually backed off.

“Oh.” She immediately understood what Andrew wanted without him having to expound on his earlier statement. Really, he could be such an adorable dork sometimes, especially when it came to Denise.

Denise was Andrew’s set partner. She was a kind person, gentle, lady-like, intelligent, mild-mannered, but strong-willed. She was great. Too good for Andrew, Akko would tease at times. But really, they made such a good match. She liked Denise; she was sweet to Akko, exchanged treats with her, as well as tutored her from time to time, being in the same school and all. She also kept Andrew busy and out of Akko’s hair, so she was perfect! So if not for Andrew’s sake, Akko should at least do something nice for her friend.

“Give me half an hour. I’ll be ready by then.”

Andrew breathed a sigh of relief, offering Akko a grateful smile. “Thank you. I’ll see myself out then.”

“Finally!”

With a childish sticking of the tongue out at each other, a habitual thing they had formed, Andrew had closed the door to Akko’s bedroom, not forgetting to lock it behind him for privacy’s sake. Akko was thankful.

Instead of getting up, however, and preparing for the day with Andrew out of the room, Akko lay back down on the soft mattress, eyes trained to the top of the room again. As she saw her little clusters of stars and constellations, red ribbons connecting points one to the other, always to be linked even if they were far apart, never to be broken, her regular intrusive thoughts had begun making their way to the forefront of her mind again.

Fated people... soulmates, huh. Weren’t those terms just glorified ways of saying everyone was in some kind of arranged marriage they could never get out of? Wouldn’t there be at least one person averse to all this? Maybe? But why... did all the people she’s known, who’ve met their match-why did they all seem content?

Feeling for that familiar metal piece under her clothing, she pulled it out by the chain, observing it as it glinted against the morning light. Her finger traced over the engraving on the outside, admiring the workmanship, but frowning at the words.

She thought back on it all. How all this destined person stuff all started out, as the history books told them. Before the records of History ever existed, they said that the leaders of the ancient world had gathered together, seeing the ‘sorrow of the world’, and came to a decision of what to to do to make the world better in that regard. They decided that ‘LOVE’ was the answer, as cheesy as it sounded. And so a system was put into place that would overcome barriers and seas, both literal and figurative, of difference, and bring to mankind the meaning of true joy- Akko always found it incredibly sappy and cringey when it was laid out like that.

Like any system, there were the finer details that made it all work one way or the other. It is said that people are born issued with a ring to be worn on their person on all times. It was a mystery as well, how one could never seem to outgrow the ring. Like it was made to grow alongside you. It was made out of metal, however, and it made things all the more perplexing. Who knows what magic goes on behind all of this? No one knows who makes the rings, or who created this system; nor does anyone know who assigns partners to each other. All they’ve known are the facts that the rings were created, containing words that served to be a hint to who your soulmate is supposedly. When you meet that person, you’d just know. The words, they’d just make sense. It didn’t matter if it never did all your life. One day, everything would just click, apparently. That was how the words were chosen, they said. Then these rings would be distributed to countries and the government would be responsible in ensuring that they got to their rightful owners.

Honestly, this whole thing sounded like some deep cult-ish shit, and Akko was quite shocked that she- along with possibly millions, or billions- had never questioned it before. After all, it was the usual; as always, the norm. It could be something of a mysterious world movement that no one knew of, but with it simply claiming to have the goal of ‘bringing happiness to all citizens’, people hardly seemed to mind where it took them.

Akko remembered the first time she ever found it weird. She was in the fourth grade, and that day, they had learned the importance of the words on the rings. ‘Hints to finding your one, true love, their teacher had claimed, trying to rouse excitement from the students at the prospect of soulmates.

And while every other little girl squealed in joy and giddiness upon reading the words written on their rings, Akko had a look of distaste on her face at the sight of her words, immediately hiding the item from possibly prying eyes of her classmates who had already began to compare words with others.

She hated it. She had then ran home to tell her mother about it.

“Mooommm! Mom!”

“Akko? What’s wrong? You’re all sweaty and you still have your outdoor boots on-”

“Why does my word suck so much?”

“Huh?” The woman was lost for words, confounded by a simple question.

“Why does it suck so much? My word! I mean...” Holding her ring out for her Mama to see, Akko continued on her rant. “What the heck does cabbage even mean?! IS HE A FARMER?! DOES MY SOULMATE LIKE CABBAGE THAT MUCH?!”

“Ah... well...”

“Why couldn’t it be something cool like yours and dads. ‘Eyes like rubies’, and ‘Rider from the north’ just sounds so badass and romantic! And then there’s me with CABBAGE. Sure, the ring is pretty and all, but... WHAT IS CABBAGE?!”

“I... don’t know, sweetheart.”

Akko had felt so frustrated with her word, that she wanted to cry. “My soulmate sucks!”

Thinking back on those times, she sure was such a child. It wasn’t her soulmate’s fault that the government or whatever authority or higher power decided to describe him or her that way. If anything, her partner is a victim of slander. Even Sucy had it better with the description. Akko chuckled mirthlessly. What are those people thinking. Ah, her head was starting to hurt from overthinking all this.

“’Bring happiness to all citizens’, my ass. With a hint as weird and cryptic as this, how am I supposed to be ‘happy’ like everyone else?” Akko sighed once more, unclasping the chain from behind her neck, and taking her ring off, hanging it over her eyes, watching it dangle in the air, the elegant cursive of ‘cabbage’ pissing her off a little more than it should.

Along with the ring came a handbook of sorts. Akko’s sat atop her bedside drawer. In it were more rules, guidelines, and information to be taken note of, but they could only be read at certain ages, sections sealed off by some kind of technology that only unlocked come one’s birthday. An example of a rule was related to how to wear the ring. It didn’t seem to be a heavily imposed rule as Akko had done away with it all her life. It was that rings should be worn on your right ring finger so long as you hadn’t found your assigned partner, moving it to your left once you have. Akko had been ashamed of her word and had always carried it around her neck, hidden underneath her clothes. Her mother had scolded her for it in the past, but she didn’t care. She didn’t want to get teased by the other children for having such a strange hint. She had believed that it would give her a hard time.

And it still did. With it being so vague and odd, there was no way this hint made much sense to her, at all. Would she ever find the person her whole being was linked to for a lifetime?

Besides the rules came soulmate-related explanation for the rings and words. An instance of this would be that the meaning behind the words would only be revealed to them once they entered fourth grade. She never understood the significance of that. Why couldn’t one just read through everything and understand it all at once? Well, not that it mattered. She would soon be turning eighteen, and opening a section that made her feel just the slightest bit bitter.

[What to do if you haven’t found your soulmate yet.]

Sucy may have told her that each person had their own time, and that she was still young, and had plenty of years to go searching. But when everyone else around you had already found theirs by the “normal” designated time, you’d start to feel quite isolated and lonely, right? She was already different from the rest with the weird-ass word she was stuck with, and now she wasn’t even close to being on the right track to finding the person it was pointing to.

It was frustrating.

Three knocks and a voice followed suit. “Akko? Are you ready? It’s been about twenty-five minutes, but I didn’t hear any noise coming from your room. Are you actually okay?”

Right. Andrew.

“I’m fine! Sorry, I got lost in thought. Be right out! Maybe in fifteen! My bad, really.”

“It’s fine, I’m the one requesting a favor, after all!” Andrew responded through the wood, and Akko felt his presence leave her immediate area.

Hopping off her bed and grabbing her towel, she made her way to the bathroom. Maybe a cold shower would help her stop thinking about all of this for a few. She really should stop questioning the whole system of practically the whole world. It wasn’t good for her sanity.

Turning on the shower and soaking herself, her assumption of her endangered mental health was confirmed.

“AH, I FORGOT TO STRIP!”

//-//-//-//-//

“You sure took your sweet time getting ready.” Andrew commented, locking the door behind them and tossing the keys into his pocket as they got to walking. Opening the gate for Akko with a bow, they shared a laugh, going on their merry way down the street.

As often as they got on one another’s nerves, they undeniably enjoyed each other’s company. It was nice. Akko liked it to an extent. The conversation was fun, the exchanges never dull, it was time spent well. What she didn’t like about hanging around with Andrew were all the stares and glares she got from people around. Much like now.

It would’ve been great if it ended with just observation, but there was always that one brave (or maybe stupid) soul who would come up to the pair to ask if they were an item. The brunette pair would then proceed to do their usual schtick of jumping a meter away from each other, and pretending to gag whilst glaring.

“NO WAY. WITH HER/HIM?!”

And despite the denial, instead of feeling joy at the availability of Andrew- Akko assumed it was him that people always wanted to confirm about anyway- there was no delight, only some form of fear. The creeped-out kind maybe?

Continuing their walk, Akko slapped Andrew’s shoulder, hard. The boy looked like he could bite her.

“Ugh... it’s already such a pain in school when we have joint functions and people mistake us for a couple. I was hoping it was obvious we were related.”

Andrew scoffed at the statement. “I’m sorry, but I’m actually quite pleased I don’t look to be related to your ugly face.”

He deserved the stronger smack, Akko would say.

“AKKO! That hurt!”

“You know what else hurts? The fact that people can’t seem to get it in their heads that not every guy and girl walking next to each other are partners. Damn, and I used to think it was a good thing that I could use you to get out of awkward confession situations.” Sometimes people did that, despite the entire ‘destined partner’ situation. “Weird times.”

“You actually get confessed to? Hahaha, why? Guys must need glasses.”

The tall lad flinched at the held up fist. “I’m kidding. You’re actually growing up to be quite pretty Akko.”

Eyes wide one second, then smiling sweetly the next, a chill ran up Andrew’s spine at Akko’s reaction... that suddenly morphed into disgust, a hand pinching his side. “Ew, I kinda liked you better when you weren’t so gross and cheesy.”

“Ah- h-hurts, that, Akko, that stings, ouch! Let go! I was trying to be nice!” Andrew retaliated with his own pinch to Akko’s slightly rounded cheeks. “Let go!”

“You lwet gfho!” They released their holds at the same time, rubbing the sore spots on their bodies. “Why were you suddenly being all weird?”

“...ate...etter...man...”

“What was that?” Akko couldn’t understand any of Andrew’s incoherent mumbling.

“...My soulmate told me I should really try to be a better gentleman... to you...”

“Haha, she’s right about that! You’re such a dick!”

“Oi!”

Before Andrew could physically get back at her, Akko made a dash to the mall entrance across the street right as the street light turned green for pedestrians. “Loser has to buy the other ice-cream!”

“That’s cheating!”

“Maybe!”

//-//-//-//-//

“See? You’re all out of energy now because of how rowdy you were earlier today.” Andrew scolded, hands on his hips, a paper bag with the chosen gift in it, slung around one wrist.

“Y’think so? This is usually... hah... nothing... to me.” Akko panted, plopping down on one metal chair by the ice-cream bar. “Weird.”

Andrew sighed, deciding to cater to Akko’s needs since she was nice enough to help him out today. “I’ll get you a water. What flavor of ice-cream would you like?”

“Matcha-Vanilla~” Akko drawled, now slumped against the table, liking the cool surface against her somehow, heated cheek. “Go forth, my peasant!”

“Noted, your eminence.”

“Mm, mm!” Akko nodded in approval, arms going under her head to cushion it. Her eyes were getting heavy. Did all that walking around really make her that tired? Her head was starting to hurt, and her body still felt heavy. Just what-

//-//-//-//-//

“Akko. Akko! Atsuko!”

‘...Andrew?’

“Tsk. Should I call an ambulance?”

‘Andrew...’

“Excuse me, are you in need of any assistance for your friend? My family owns a hospital nearby and we could take her there.”

Akko felt Andrew’s hand supporting her suddenly tense. “Geh- Cavendish...”

“My, Sir Hanbridge. Date?”

“Cousin.”

“Hmm...”

Oh? Someone... A lady? What a nice voice. Somehow it was comforting to Akko. It felt warm, it felt kind, it felt gentle. For a voice to feel something rather than sound like something, Akko must really be out of it.

Hands.

Careful, tender.

“A-An... wha-”

“Akko! Don’t talk. Just rest.”

“Akko, huh. Is that her name? Miss Akko?”

“mmrm?”

“You’ll be alright.”

That voice. Akko wanted to believe it. Who...

Soft. Soft. Akko was leaning against something soft.

“You’’ll be alright.” Was said again.

“Akko, you’ll be alright.” Ah, Andrew. But somehow, Akko would rather hear those words from the other person currently holding her in her arms. She felt bad. Not just in the sick kind of way. What was she supposed to do again? Oh right, she was helping Andrew. Where was she? Was she causing trouble? Ah, what if she was bothering this sweet-smelling, comfortable-feeling, gentle-sounding lady.

‘Hey... you...’ Hmm, her voice wasn’t quite working like it should. Maybe she should try to express herself again. Clearing her terribly scratchy and dry throat, she managed to croak out a single word.

“So...rry...”

“It’s alright.”

//-//-//-//-//

White ceiling, the absence of sticker-stars. Dim lighting, the low thrum of the air conditioner unit, and the occasional sound of something dripping. The scent of antiseptic.

Her right hand felt uncomfortable, like something was stuck in it. She lifted it up, seeing a slim tube running out of some secure, clear tape.

“You’re in the hospital, idiot.”

“Never a quiet moment with you, Andrew.”

A sigh. “I was worried.”

“...Mm. I’m sorry...”

“You didn’t tell me you were feeling unwell.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Don’t lie.”

“Couldn’t tell.”

“Akko!”

“Say, Andrew. Who was with you earlier?”

“Don’t change the subject, Akko- huh?” Reprimanding words died on the boy’s lips as the question sunk in. “Ahhh.” Recollections of earlier events came in. “The daughter of the owner of this place.” He threw in a few other details he thought Akko would want to know. “High-class lady. This place does too.” He decided to humor her queries, knowing she didn’t want to argue with Andrew anymore. He didn’t either, not when she was like this. A time and place for everything.

“Hmm...” Akko hummed, sitting upright and looking out the window. Andrew panicked, stepping forward, but Akko shooed her cousin away. “She sounded nice.” Akko commented. “Was she pretty?” Somehow her mind wanted to know. Her heart was clenching in some unknown need to know more about a voice she barely registered, a touch she fleetingly felt.

“You could say that. I guess to most, she’d be considered gorgeous?” Andrew mused. “Weird hair though.” Was added as an afterthought.

“Heh...”

“Curious?” He didn’t say it in a teasing town, only genuinely inquisitive at Akko’s not-so-subtle expression of interest in someone she barely even met.

“No? Not really.” She responded, everything becoming still. “Can I go home?”

“Once your tests come in.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Overnight.”

“Mama and dad?”

“Dropped by while you were asleep. Uncle was sobbing buckets, but Auntie dragged him out because they both had work. They paid off the bill and said they’ll see you when we all get home.”

Akko sighed, dropping back against her pillows. “I can’t believe I’ve caused so much trouble in a span of, what, three days?” Covering her face with one of the pillows, she screamed lightly into it, the muffled sound concerning Andrew. “I have to apologize a lot to them. Have to make it up to them... I even had them spend a lot of money on -ow! Andrew!”

Retracting the hand he used to chop her head, Andrew huffed. “Stop that. Your parents love you, you’re not a bother. Shut it. If you really want to make it up to them, get some rest right now as we wait, and get better soon. I suggest you make some dinner if you’re well enough.” He knew she often had insecurities, and tried her best not to bother people so much. He’d observed it from her relationship with her two best friends. She really was just a ball of energy that she couldn’t help but cause scenes, though. People hardly minded, anyway. If only she realized.

“Duly noted.”

Andrew nodded, walking over to the bed and sitting at the edge, whipping his head about to glare at the owner of the leg that had just attempted to kick him off.

“You’re making the foam awkwardly sink. It’s uncomfortable. You’re inconveniencing the patient’s recovery.” Akko grinned, trying to get rid of the stuffy atmosphere that had settled by stirring up another banter session.

“Could you settle down for once?”

“I mean, I could.”

“Unbelievable.” He chuckled. “Fine, fine, I’ll give you your space. I’m going to the store. Want anything?” He offered, since the ice-cream he initially was supposed to treat her to as thanks was long since forgone on some cemented floor, probably already cleaned up by the workers of the shop.

“Orange juice.”

“Coffee? Understood.”

“Ass.”

“The good ass genes run in our family.”

“Oh my gosh, you did not just say that.” Akko guffawed, waving her hands, eyes sparkling with pride at the crude joke of her prim and proper, perfect-gentleman cousin.

“I did not just say that.” Andrew smirked. “Now rest before your fever comes back from all that tension you release. Good thing you’re off school for a while.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“I’ll be back in fifteen.”

“Hai~”

“Don’t disappear.”

“...”

“AKKO!”

“I won’t, I won’t!” She giggled, dropping the tease. “Now scram!”

“I swear to god...”

And with that, she was alone again.

Great. More time alone with her thoughts. And what better way to occupy that blank space that was her mind then to fill it with all her doubts, insecurities, and questionings.

One particular question stood out at that moment.

“Who... was the owner of that voice...” Along with that single question came a wave of interconnected ones that Akko could not understand. Why was there this sudden desire to just... know.

What did she look like? How tall was she? Was she fair-skinned? Tanned? Long hair? Short hair? Curled or not? How old was she? Were they the same age? Was she an older lady? Was she maybe in the same grade? From the haze that was her memories, it seemed Andrew knew her? An acquaintance? Why couldn’t he give Akko more details besides insulting that woman’s hair? Where was she from? She had an accent. British? Scottish? Did she live around these parts? Why...

Why was Akko so curious?

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Andrew, you know you can just, like... come in, right? You know I can’t even get up to open the door for yoouuu...huuu...” With the door swinging open to reveal the person on the otherside, Akko could only hope that she did not appear to be the stupid-looking gay dance she most probably was. “-...huuu...who...?”

‘Beautiful.’

“I apologize for the intrusion, but I just wanted to check on you. Oh, you may not even know me, I’m sorry. I should probably introduce myself, isn’t that right? Oh blood hell, Andrew, telling me to check on someone I barely know because you want to go off somewhere...” Akko heard her mutter that last bit under her breath before watching this gorgeous lady seemingly recover her senses. “-Ah, apologies, um... sorry! Wow, I suppose I’m saying that too much, aren’t I? We didn’t exactly ‘meet’ earlier, but... I don’t know, I was probably meddling in issues not concerning me, but... I couldn’t help but want to help you out. It was an automatic reaction as someone who has wanted to be a healthcare professional all my life, and I was so used to it, and then it just so happened to be Andrew and... well, you and- and I-” Fair skin, lithe, fairly tall frame, a melodic voice, gorgeous blue eyes hidden by long lashes and ...strange hair, due to an immediate bow upon spotting the confused gaze of the patient; this person was...

“You’re rambling, miss.”

Said Miss bristled, expression flustered and eyes darting about in her embarrassment. “S-sorry.”

Akko panicked at the saddened apology. She just made a pretty girl sad! “N-no! I-” Their eyes met and then it was one of the most magical and equally painful moments of Akko’s life, she concluded. “Hi.”

“Hello.” The girl nodded back in acknowledgement.

“Akko.” She blurted out. Then just like that she witnessed a world wonder contained in such a small room, in just one girl. There was just something in the way her eyes lit up that pleased Akko very much. It was as though she was the catalyst for such a breath-taking phenomena. Blue stars, passionately burning, brightly so, like her favorite celestial bodies. “...Rigel...” She murmured.

“Huh?”

“Oh? Huh? Eh, um...” Arms flapping about, she tried to graps control of the conversation, not knowing where it was going anymore. “Uh, my... name! My name is Akko! Ahaha, sorry ‘bout that.” --She scratched the back of her head sheepishly with the hand not attached to the IV tube.

“Miss Akko... Rigel?” She tilted her head, and by gods that was the cutest thing Akko had ever seen in her life. But Wait-

“Oh! No, nono... no hahaha.” She laughed, waving her hands in front of her, realizing that what she said had been mistaken as her name.

“I... My name is Kagari Atsuko, but you can call me Akko.” She clumsily reintroduced herself.

“And Rigel...?”

‘Is a blue star that is put to shame when in comparison to your ethereal ocean eyes-’

“Oh, it’s just... just a star I like, hahaha...ha..ha.” She needed to save this dying interaction, fast. She didn’t want this goddess of a lady to walk away just yet. Who was she? Why was Akko panicking so badly? Why was her heart running miles per second? Where did these confusing feelings stirring from her chest come from? Could this just be... Was this girl... Was she... could she be who Akko thought she was? She didn’t even know her name yet, but the way she made her feel, it was like some universal, natural phenomena that could only make sense in the context of... that. Who was she? Who was she? Who-

“Diana.”

Diana, apparently.

“Diana.” She tested, the name unfamiliar, but incredibly welcome and sliding off her tongue so naturally, and with ease. Like she was meant to know such a name all her life. “Nice to meet you.”

She patted herself on the back for a good greeting, with good manners, even happier when she received a soft smile in return.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

“No, no, the pleasure is mine, I mean... pleasure, I’m... feels good to meet you, I mean, because you saved me and all, from what I can understand, so pleasure, good feels- no- what am i saying?! I’m sorry, Diana, er miss? Diana? Miss Diana?”

“Diana is fine.”

Diana was indeed SO fine.

“Th-thank you for being so beautiful.”

“What?”

“Tha-thanks for saving me, I mean, helping Andrew out in saving me, but that means you saved me too, so I just thought I should properly thank you and all that and express gratitude because that’s the right thing to do, amiright? And of course I’m right so thank you, Diana, thanks for everything, and the hospital and the room and all, oh but you don’t own it, but your family does, so does that mean you own it-”

“Akko.”

“Yes?!”

“You’re rambling, Akko.”

Akko was a burning hot mess of foolishness, but if it prompted such heavenly giggles from such an angel- no a goddess, alongside her name that sounded divine coming from soft pink lips- that she was absolutely not staring at- then she hardly minded at all.

And then there was silence.

“So...”

Diana awkwardly shuffled on her spot, the tip of her shoe tapping against the floor impatiently, hand fiddling with a button on her shirt. It took so much willpower for Akko not to direct her eyes there.

“I guess I’ll get going.”

“A-already?”

“Eh?”

“Ah... I mean... if you have... stuff to do, I guess... I... shouldn’t be stopping you or anything of the sort, right?”

Akko didn’t like that frown, however miniscule it was, on Diana’s face.

“I... I’m a little busy, I apologize.” She spoke softly. Akko’s heart clenched, and she cursed her insensitive ways. “But... I can come back tomorrow? If you’d like?” -And it leaped up in joy just as quick. More time! More Diana! More getting to know her!

“Y-Yes! Of course! I’ll wait here for you! Pinky swear! I- woah...” The world was suddenly spinning, and Akko had to lean back for a moment, vision swimming in color.

“Akko!”

Said girl was beginning to get addicted to the feeling of Diana’s presence by her side. That was not necessarily a good or bad thing. She couldn’t get attached to her, not when she knew nothing about her. She couldn’t... be acknowledging these feelings blossoming out of nowhere without confirmation of whether or not this person was meant to be hers, and she was meant to be with as well. But she was addicting, Diana. A strong drug. Just one whiff and she was high on her existence.

“Geez, you should be resting. I’m sorry for bothering you, and keeping you up this long.”

Akko heard none of those words. Akko was curious. So Akko just had to check. Hands weakly grasping Diana’s cooler ones, fingers roamed, feeling around until they touched even colder metal... on Diana’s... left... hand.

“Akko?” The concern was palpable in her voice, Akko’s senses blurring the world out as her hands dropped to her side.

Frustrating.

She somehow hoped what she’d been experiencing these past few minutes were the signs of her finding her soulmate, but it seemed as though she may have been wrong. Maybe it was simply infatuation, or a shameless lust overtaking her in her weakened state.

It shouldn’t be this frustrating.

It shouldn’t be this painful.

She shouldn’t have been so impatient and jumped to subconscious conclusions.

Diana had already found her soulmate. Just like everyone else.

Everyone but Akko.

//-//-//-//-//

When she came to, it was dark. She felt much better than she had yesterday, and earlier on today. Turning to her right, she saw Andrew seated on a chair, back facing her as he was conversing with someone.

“I wonder what got into that girl? Her new friend seemed worried.” That voice...

‘Mama.’

“You mean Diana?”

Akko flinched at the name.

“Is that her name? My, she was so cute. If you weren’t already matched to someone, Andrew, I think you’d look good together.” Akko felt a twinge in her chest, only slightly soothed by the sound of Andrew choking on something, his drink maybe. Tea? Coffee?

“I’d rather not be involved with her like that.” Andrew responded after composing himself.

“Eehh-”

Akko couldn’t listen any longer. The pain of everything was just starting to come back. She just wanted to get away. Away from this place that kept reminding her of her chance encounter. She just wanted to go home. She just wanted to hug her mama.

“Ma...ma...” Her voice warbled. “Mama...” She tried, louder. Somehow her voice was so weak, the thought of it not being able to reach the person she trusted the most in the world, hurt. “Ma... ma... mama! Mamaaa...” Slowly, she regained her voice, cracked and unsteady. And finally she was heard. “Mama!”

“Akko!” Before Akko could even blink again, the woman was at her side, a hand brushing bangs away to clear her warm forehead, a refreshing kiss planted there. “Akko, my baby.”

“M-mama... Mamaaa...” She moaned out, engulfing the woman in her tight hold, sinking into a familiar scent. “Mama...”

“Yes, Yes. I’m here. I’m here, Akko.” She cooed, hands combing through chocoloate-colored tresses.

“Mama.”

“Yes?”

“I wanna go home.”

“Eh? But you aren’t okay yet-”

“Please. Let me go home...”

She felt her mother pull back. She couldn’t face the eyes seeking hers. “Akko? What’s wrong, sweetheart? You’re not feeling well, and yet you want to go home before you get better. Is something the matter?” Akko couldn’t lie to those.

But she could try.

“I just think I’ll be able to rest better at home. My... my fever isn’t that bad.”

“But you were just crying out for me...”

“I was just... feeling lonely. Please, Mama. Let’s go home.” She couldn’t say it was because she didn’t want to meet a certain lady, weird blonde hair and enchanting blue stars never leaving her memory. “Please...” Because more than the pain inflicted by her sickness, she couldn’t stand the squeezing of her heart, its labored pounding more burdensome than the throbbing in her head. “Please, mama.”

“Akko...”

“Don’t be such a selfish brat.”Andrew scolded, eyes burning into the Akko’s skin. “Didn’t you just say you didn’t want to cause anyone trouble?”

Akko deflated in her mother’s embrace, and the elder boy sighed. He really hated seriously hurting Akko, especially emotionally. “But... We can leave first thing in the morning tomorrow, if you prove to be alright.” He turned the other way, hiding his expression from the girl. “So just get better.”

“Andrew...”

“Get better soon.”

//-//-//-//-//

It was against institutional rules to be running about in the building at any given time. Crowded or cleared, the halls were not made for such dangerous sport. Workers constantly made their way through these corridors; some pushing wide carts carrying planned food and beverage for every patient in the hospital; some nurses walked along with important, and sometimes painstakingly prepared medicine and treatments for patients that Diana threatened to compromise should she bump into them. In other areas she could risk bumping into one of the sanitary maintenance people, infectious waste at the risk of being spilled all over.

And Diana grew aware of all these things, surrounded by them from a tender age. Yet at this moment, she was in complete disregard for them, her footsteps rushed and padding softly against a marbled floor. Her eyes scanned every plaque above each door she passed, counting off the numbers, and reading the letters, her trip on autopilot.

One more corner, just the end of that corner. If she rounded that, then walked past three more rooms- She was feeling a regretful that she couldn’t come by earlier, the colors of the afternoon sky telling her just how close she was cutting it to the end of visiting hours. Curse all the school-transfer procedures she had to sit through. They didn’t need to take that long, did they? But she had made a promise of sorts. She had promised her new... friend, Akko that she’d come by and see her. She must not keep her waiting. She didn’t quite understand what it was that made her so happy about the prospect that the other girl actually wanted to see her- Diana assumed as such with how she was acting yesterday. Really... it was amazing.

Diana herself couldn’t deny that she saw something different in Akko, a substance far beyond what others could offer her that suddenly shifted the usual motions of her world upon meeting this girl. All her life, so many people came along trying to woo her, claiming that she was the one defined by their flimsy phrases that never moved her heart. ‘Beautiful lass’, ‘doctor’s daughter’, titles among other things. She had even found out a few faked rings that had been promptly reported to authorities for the grave sin committed. Thus, Diana could trust no words written on silly little rings; only the one written on her own, worn about her left ring finger.

She hadn’t found her soulmate, no. And maybe this was against the universal rules of whatever matchmaking system had engulfed society, but Diana did not want to be caught in a trap of a forever she could not escape unless she was absolutely sure that this was it. Maybe it would be unfair to her soulmate; maybe it would throw them off; maybe they wouldn’t realize right away; but if there was one thing Diana believed in that was rooted in this entire system, it was that if you met the one meant for you, you would know.

Her mother told her so. And Diana trusted her mother’s words above all other words.

One more door, one more plaque. Diana readied a hand to knock against closed-...open? The door was... open. Did Akko have visiting doctors? They sometimes left doors open for quick checks to save time during rounds. But no, that did not seem to be the case. She was surprised to see one of the cleaning personnel of the hospital folding up the sheets of the bed, passing it to his companion before they changed the covers.

Approaching an elderly male of the pair currently clearing the room out of any trash possibly left behind, Diana respectfully inquired, “Um sir? Where is the occupant of this room?”.

“Hmm? Ah! Young Miss, what are you doing here? Oh, were you perhaps the friend of the little girl staying here recently?”

“You... could say that.” Diana muttered, unsure.

“Oh, then she must have just forgotten to tell, you ey? Already left, y’see. The little miss, along with her mother and some fine lookin’ gentleman. Do you think that could be ‘er soulmate? Ah~ young, concerned love.”

Diana tasted an inexplicable bitterness in her mouth, heart squeezing. “Y-young man?”

“Mm-mm! Handsome fella, looked kinda familiar, but maybe I’m just getting it on in years.”

That... couldn’t be, right? While Diana wasn’t one to be guided purely by feeling, priding in her rationality, she just knew that that couldn’t be. After all... Akko was the only one she’d ever felt this strongly for in the lifetime she’s lived so far. She’d swear on her family’s motto of ‘affection’ that she’d only offer her fullest romances to the one the universe had destined for her, corny as that may sound.

She just knew it. She just knew it was Akko.

So who-

Andrew.

She suddenly chuckled. Of course. Who else could that young chap accompanying Akko be? He was the one who came with Diana to the hospital, he was the one who had told her go take that first visit. So of course, logically, without a doubt, the man that Akko should have been with was Andrew. Of course.

And there was nothing to worry about, soulmate-wise. Diana knew Andrew already had someone. She’d met up with them constantly at banquets. There was no obstacle, no other person for Akko. Right?

Akko... Akko who wasn’t here. In this room. Gloom encompassed her heart as she stared at the room dimming bit-by-bit as the staff turned off the lights. They told her that they should get leaving, and Diana nodded, informing them she’d just do one last look over the room for any possible missed items, then she’d lock the room herself, to which the workers reluctantly agreed, unable to go against the owner’s daughter. Well, she was known to be a good kid, so nothing should be wrong with that.

Diana, now left alone, remained stood by the doorway that served as the only light source to the room for a few more seconds. It wasn’t like constantly looking into it would magically make the one she was seeking appear, huh? With a deep exhale, she closed the door behind her, frown tugging at the edges of her mouth.

“You said you’d wait for me.”

//-//-//-//-//

Scritch. Scratch. A line, then two. A squiggle, a letter. A bubble from brew-

...huh?

“Aren’t you supposed to be helping me with my homework?” Akko frowns at her companion currently mixing questionable substances on her floor-table in her room. “That is why you’re here, right?”

“Course not. What fun would that be?”

“Should’ve known better than to invite you over.” Akko muttered under her breath, getting back to the unending pile of chemistry homework she was sure Croix assigned to them out of spite. “And how did you finish this all, anyway?”

“I’m smart like that.”

“You’re mean like that. Why can’t you help me out at least?”

“I believe that learning for yourself is the best teacher.” Sucy replied, emotionless as always.

“No you don’t.”

“True.”

“Hah...” Akko gave up. Forget getting help from Sucy. That wasn’t a possible feat, now that she thought about it clearly. The girl was just bored out of her mind so she easily agreed to come over. Akko was sure of it. Without Lotte in the house, and on their fifth and final schoolday away, Sucy- who had slowly gotten used to the concept of companionship- must have just wanted someone around, regardless of whether there was flowing conversation or not.

“Akko?” Andrew’s voice came from behind the door. Finally! A distraction! Wait, wasn’t Akko avoiding Andrew lately? Why was she avoiding him lately? “Akko?”

“Come in!”

“...huh? You’re actually letting me in?” The muffled voice asked, door now ajar. “Hey Akko, so... about what I’ve been telling you all week...” He began, looking nervous, and Akko had to wonder why. “So my friend, Diana, she-”

Ah. Right.

That’s why.

Quick on her feet, Akko gunned for the door, pushing it forcefully, and locking Andrew out, the boy’s yells the only things making it through the barrier.

“Akko! Akko! OH, COME ON! We’ve been at this the whole week!”

“And I told you this whole week, I don’t wanna hear it!!!” Akko hollered back.

“But WHY?!” Andrew’s exasperation oozed out of his voice. “Just give me a reason! Give her a reason! From what I’ve heard, you seemed to have hit it off pretty well?”

“Says who?” Akko asked.

“Diana!” Andrew didn’t like yelling, but Akko was being so hard-headed after he mentioned his blonde acquaintance. “Just what happened between you two?”

“Nothing! Nothing happened!!!”

“Then why does she keep bugging me about you, and why are you avoiding her like the plague?!”

...Why was Akko avoiding Diana? Was there any reason to? They’d met just the other day, had the most awkward conversation in her life to date, and then Akko felt something. Something she shouldn’t have, and let her hopes up, only to drop them lower than where they already were; and none of that was Diana’s fault. If anything, Diana could have proven to be another great friend she’d make along the way in life, y’know?

Akko didn’t know. She didn’t know what was going on; within herself, within her mind and her heart, in that one moment frozen in time between her and Diana, in a silent hospital room.

“I don’t know, Andrew. I don’t.”

Sucy’s potion stopped brewing.

//-//-//-//-//

“MY MADLADS! I MISSED YOU UGLY FACES!”

“Ugh, Amanda.”

“Oi!”

Akko grinned, messing up Amanda’s fiery mane in comfort from being rejected by Sucy. “Missed you too, Amanda.” A high-five rang out through the school lobby, the two energetic troublemakers missing that burning feeling on their palms.

“But man, you guys sure missed a lot. Who knew a week without y’all could turn the school upside-down.” Amanda whistled, their small group of eight finally assembling complete as Jasminka and Constanze walked up.

The small girl gave Akko this look that she completely understood, giving the girl a big thumbs up, and receiving a smile and nod. Jasna held out a lollipop which Akko gratefully accepted, and they all made their way to the corridors.

Suddenly registering what Amanda said a few moments ago, Akko’s interest was piqued. “What did you mean by turning the school upside-down?” She wondered just how much a school could change for her who was out for a week.

“Oh, well, maybe I was exaggerating a tiny bit.” Amanda chuckled, scratching her cheek. “Just that, some new girl came along and now everyone is all head over heels for her somehow.” Amanda fake-cried, sniffling up some. “She even stole my babes! Along with all my popularity!!!”

That earned her two smacks to the head from two certain British girls. “We already told you, she was our childhood friend! Of course we’re inclined to keep her company and show her around!” They defended, scoffing. “Besides, you didn’t mind ogling her at all the other day, huh? You should feel grateful we let you in our dorm the other day.”

“B-babies...”

“Oof. You brought that on yourself, hot stuff.” Sucy grinned, wickedly. “But now I’m curious. If she could even catch Amanda’s eyes then...”

“Total hottie.” Jasminka commented through a mouthful of chips. “Everyone can vouch for that.”

“Woah, even Jas...” Akko laughed lightly. “Alrighty, let’s meet this new kid in town then! Where is she and what’s her name?” Just as they were about to pass the headmistress’ office and head for their homeroom, a hand tugged at the brunette’s collar, along with Sucy’s.

“Wait a second, you two. You’re supposed to report to Professor Holbrooke first, right?” Lotte, ever the dutiful friend, reminded.

“Ah dang, right.” Akko scratched her cheek, throwing Sucy a beckoning glance. “Guess it’s better to just get it over with.” She shrugged.

“Whatever.”

“See you all in class!” Akko waved goodbye, smiling as Lotte left a peck on her pale friend’s cheek, enjoying her rarely flustered state. Her heart warmed when Lotte gave her one two, patting the blonde’s hair fondly. “Thanks, Lotte.”

“Anytime.”

With their friends out of sight, they faced the suddenly intimidating doors.

“Now or never.”

//-//-//-//-//

“I’m glad we got excuse slips for being tardy to class. I do not want more yelling. Though I guess Prof Chariot wouldn’t do that, huh.”

“What did you say? I think I’ve gone deaf.” Sucy complained, rubbing her pained ears. “Finneran yaps like a bitch.”

“OI! Don’t let her hear you say that!”

“Don’t worry, I’m not up for more ‘counseling and healthy reminders’.” Sucy mockingly mimicked the strict teacher. “Christ, that woman must be senile.”

“Shhh, we’re almost at the classroom.” Akko hushed her bestfriend, door coming into view. She could hear a Professor Chariots distinct voice posing a question to the class, and there was a quiet that Akko knew was due to no one knowing the answer, not very uncommon.

But then there was one. A voice very uncommon, but somehow familiar, attracting, pulling her in. With her curiosity getting the better of her, Akko slid the door open, planning to softly sneak into class, forgetting that the room’s backdoor had a tendency to-

SCRREEEEECCHHHH

...that.

“H-hi? S-sorry we’re late?” Akko tried, dozens of eyes now resting on them, most surprised. But one pair stood out the most. ‘She looks good in our uniform.’ Akko’s jaw hung slack, a fight or flight response hesitantly building up within her. Her legs tensed, ready to bolt or stay rooted depending on the next move the one she was staring at made. “...Rigel...”

“...Akko.”

Then a hand reached out, and she was gone. Like the wind.

//-//-//-//-//

It had been a difficult week. Amanda was definitely right when she said things had been turned upside-down. Akko felt like she was too. So Hannah and Barbara’s childhood, hottie, transfer student, best friend just so happened to be Diana. Diana, Akko met her in the hospital and became enraptured with, Diana.

This posed a problem, along with unbearable tension within their group. Akko would always want to run away, and Diana would always seek after her. After awhile, the blonde grew weary, and just distanced herself, her childhood bestfriends obviously sticking by her side. Amanda had girlfriends to attend to. And Constanze and Jas usually followed Amanda. So now, it was just Sucy, Lotte, and little ol’ Akko. Like old times.

“Akko, just why are you avoiding Miss Cavendish? How do you know her?” Lotte asked on their way home. “Please? Tell us? I can’t stand to not spend time with the other girls anymore just because you two are at unknown odds. You’re a kind person, Akko. And Miss Cavendish is as well, from how I’ve gotten to know her lately.”

“Lotte, you... you wouldn’t get it.” Akko sighed. She was tired of entertaining Diana-related questions. All the ‘why don’t you two get along’ interrogations wearing her down thin: with Andrew at home, and Hannah and Barbara indirectly hounding her in school at every chance they’d get, trying to fish out for an answer that Diana couldn’t give to them herself, apparently. Not that Akko blamed her. She must just be as confused as everyone else with regards to Akko’s averse reactions.

“M-maybe I could try?” Akko missed the shift in the Fin’s tone, irritation over the week threatening to make her lose self-control and lash out. But no, she couldn’t do that. Not too sweet Lotte. She still had her senses intact.

“No, I’m sure you wouldn’t.” She firmly stated through gritted teeth, not looking at Lotte as she replied, so unlike her.

“I-I-”

“Akko, Lotte just wants to understand you.” Sucy stepped in, feeling that change in the air that she didn’t quite fancy. “Why can’t you just tell us? I know I may not act like it a lot, but aren’t we your best friends?” Akko held back a hiss behind pearly whites. She didn’t want to be a bad person. She had to be considerate of people’s feelings. Like always. Everyone was just curious. They were all just confused... but then Sucy had to just say, “Don’t you trust us?”

And Akko couldn’t hear that.

“I trust you! I do!” She whipped her head about, pointing a finger to them one-by one. “But you guys, you wouldn’t get it because you have your soulmate by your side constantly, okay?!”

“Akko...” Lotte’s eyes widened.

“I... I’ve been waiting a lot, and I know you said I’m being impatient. It doesn’t have to be now.” Akko huffed. “But do you know how it feels to look at all of you, all happy with someone who can love you completely? Understand you completely? I don’t have that! Not yet! And sure, somewhere down the future road, I might.... and it’s stupid of me, but I’m a lot more jealous and selfish than I look, okay? Everyone has nice words, and has met the person those words described perfectly, at the designated time, normally, as the book says.”

“Akko, the book doesn’t completely control everything-”

“And here I am, always subconsciously looking around, because maybe my person is out there too, y’know? But how the heck do I know?” A hand reached for the chain on her neck, ripping it out of her shirt so hard, it broke, the ring flying onto the ground. “Stupid! Stupid chain! Stupid Ring! Stupid words! Akko marched the few steps to the item, bending and snatching it off the ground, hand going in too hard, too fast that she scraped her knuckles badly in the process, the area quickly leaking red. “Sh- damn it, stupid- gaahhh!”

“A-Akko.”

Lotte stepped back, retracting the hand that had been reaching out for the heated Japanese girl, stomping at the ground. This... wasn’t an Akko she knew. How many years of pent up frustration was going into this session?

“You guys,” Her eyes were scary, sharp and menacing. Sucy jumped in front of Lotte at the sight of Akko’s bloodied knuckles coming their way at eye-level. But then it stopped. “You haven’t seen it, right? My words.”

They couldn’t even react.

“Cabbage.” Akko spat. “Goddamn cabbage. How am I supposed to know what that fucking means. How are you guys supposed to understand when... I can’t either... these words... myself... why I’m so impatient... what I’m feeling... Why... I thought it could’ve been Diana, but...”

“...but what, Akko?” Lotte hated how scared she sounded, seeing Akko flinch, knowing her friend noticed her fear. She knew how afraid of hurting her friends Akko was. This was all just a shock. That’s all. “What’s... what’s with Diana, Akko? Diana and you?” She posed the earlier question for the last time. Was Akko hinting at what she thought it was?

“She wears it on her left.”

//-//-//-//-//

Orange juice didn’t taste as good when you drank it alone on the stairwell leading to the roof. It would have been better had she been able to stand under the cloudy mid-day sun, the refreshing breeze taking her mind off things. But then it just had to rain, hard, and that ruined all her plans of clearing her mind via the healing powers of nature. Maybe she shouldn’t have told Sucy and Lotte to stay away and give her space. Having no one to talk to really sucked. More so than the strange word on her stupid government-issued ring.

“Ahhh, should I just go and apologize to everyone?” She muttered, squeezing the juicebox she thought she’d emptied, but did not know had bits of liquid left. The purely concentrated citrus then spilled onto her exposed, skinned knuckles, making her hiss in pain. “Tsk, stupid. Grrr!”

“Ah-!”

“Ah?” The yelp caught her attention. She was alone in this place, right? “Hello?”

No response.

“Anyone there?” The only ones replying to her were the winds that howled behind the metal door that led to open roof. Those sounds were starting to sound like how she’d imagined ghosts would in the dead of night. “Helloooo~”

Still nothing.

“Maybe it was just my imagination?”

“STAY AWAY!”

Okay, that was NOT her imagination. That was a girl. Looking around for some kind of weapon, Akko readied herself to beat up whatever girl-harassing creep she’d find once she rounded the bend in the stairwell. Holding up a sturdy wooden broom, she tiptoed down, steps making no sound.

On three, she’d jump and smack the living shit out of whoever was there. One... two...

“Akko, please save me!”

And she slipped and fell in her surprise; her back was going to hurt like hell over the next few days. Alas! She must stay vigil! Save whoever this damsel in distress was- Diana... It was Diana. Diana Cavendish, as she’d learned the girl’s name, and a few other trivial details about her, over the course of their time not together. (Akko also denies any and all claims that state that she spent a lofty amount of time observing the taller girl. She didn’t know things like how she was Scottish, or how she loved horses and anything that looked like a unicorn, and that she was intelligent, and smelled like vanilla and mint.)

“I’ll save you?” She managed in her ruffled state. Before she could process anything more, the girl had clung to her, both now laying on the floor; one in an utter state of bewilderment, and the other... dealing with whatever it was she got going on before Akko had found her. “Umm... Diana?” She tried, forgetting her phobia of the girl over the past few days, and rubbing her back gently to gain her attention. She was shaking like the leaves outside in the storm. Just what had happened. “Diana? What’s wrong? What am I saving you from?”

There were no signs of any bad guys, as far as Akko could see. She was grateful for that. She wasn’t sure she could defend them in this position.

“Miss Cavendish? Heir to a billion-dollar hospital? What’s up?” She was trying to be nonchalant in an attempt to possibly calm the girl, and it worked somewhat, allowing her to see that beautiful face, tear-stained and all. “H-Hi.” How lame.

“Akko... the... there... it...”

“Hmm?” She lent an open ear, looking around, still not seeing any signs of danger. Then a well-manicured finger came up and pointed to one of the panels of the hallway’s windows. Akko squinted, not seeing anything. Had Diana seen some kind of floating ghost outside? Or was she seeing it inside, and Akko didn’t have the sixth sense for it? Did Diana have some kind of sixth sense? “What exactly...”

“B...”

“Buh..?”

“Bee.” She squeaked.

Akko gawked.

“Bee.”

“B-bee.”

“Bee?”

“Bee!”

“B-”

“Akko, please just get it away! I’m scared!”

“Y-yes, ma’am!” She scrambled to her feet, but not without gently seating Diana up, even if it was on the dirty corridor floor. Opening the window and grimacing as strong winds blew droplets of water into her face, Akko shooed the poor insect into nature’s claws of death. “Sorry, buddy. Princess doesn’t seem to like you.” Blowing it a kiss, she shut the window, wiping her face on the sleeve of her jacket.

Now... to face a larger problem... or not face it. Maybe Akko should get running again.

She should.

“Well, this was nice and all that, but I guess I should get- ouch!” Diana had caught her hand in alarm, accidentally pressing against her open, yet-to-heal wounds.

“M-my apologies!”

“It’s f-fine. It’s okay, please let... let go.” Akko didn’t like the way her heartrate spiked in Diana’s presence. It grew even more erratic, wildly jumping every which way in her chest as her hand was held more gently, blue eyes scrutinizing the reddened skin, the heiress didn’t seem to have any plans of releasing her. “Diana?”

“May I... May I treat you? That blue sparkle was redirected from her knuckles to her own dark reds. They were so hopeful and compelling that Akko, despite thinking that avoiding Diana would kill whatever held-back, buds of feelings she hoped to dash, just couldn’t help but consent, cursing the way her chest lightened, heart soaring.

She was absolutely doomed.

//-//-//-//-//

It was a quiet affair.

Torturous. No one said a word. To be fair, they’ve only had two somewhat proper conversations so far, so not knowing how to break the ice shouldn’t be that odd.

But it was, and Akko couldn’t take it. Diana had just finished cleaning Akko’s wounds under the sink in the infirmary, and was now dabbing them gently with antiseptic. She was so careful, touches feather-like soft. Akko barely felt anything, much less pain. So maybe she could start with talking about that. Maybe.

“You... You’re hands are real nice.”

“H-huh?”And down fell the cottonball she’d been holding.

“I-I mean... you’re really good at this. Tender and all that. You’d... make a good doctor.” Akko commented off the top of her head, running out of things to say, as she always did when faced with one Diana Cavendish. “A pretty doctor. Patients would... probably feel healed just from your... face. Or something.” Smooth, Akko. Smooth. Could Diana, like... at least help her out a little by responding? “Please say something.” Akko begged in a whisper.

“O-oh, I... thank you, Akko. Thank you for the compliment. I...” Momentarily lifting her eyes and meeting Akko’s gaze, the blonde averted hers, a thin touch of red spreading up to her ears, not unnoticed by the injured Japanese. “I appreciate your words.”

Akko hummed, not trusting her mouth to communicate properly anymore.

“I think you’re... face is a healing balm as well.”

Akko felt herself blush as well, head tilting up so she could face the ceiling. It was one of the most brainless compliments she’d ever heard in her life, and she knew she just said something along those lines as well. And yet it made her heart flutter like nothing else had before.

“Don’t mention it and... thanks.”

//-//-//-//-//

You never know when an event becomes a catalyst for reality to undergo great changes. Their little bandaging session had returned the next day. Akko was quite clumsy with these types of things. Each time she’d gotten hurt in an accident, she’d always ask Lotte to do it... but today... all their friends, and even the classmates they’d unintentionally dragged into their awkward little world, were staring in awe as Kagari Atsuko stood in front of Diana Cavendish’s desk, inviting her out to the infirmary.

“I-I’m just having her help me with my bandages! Don’t get the wrong idea!” Akko yelled as she guided Diana out, unknowingly holding her hand all the while. No one commented on it. Not even Barbara and Lotte who were exchanging curious little smiles. Something was changing. And it was a good change.

Reaching the infirmary, Akko headed straight for the sink, rinsing her knuckles under clean water while Diana gathered what she needed. Once done, they met by some chairs placed about the room and took a seat, the blonde girl looking over Akko’s hand.

“Come tomorrow, you might not need to bandage it anymore. Just apply some ointment. I think the nurse can recommend something.” Diana stated, looking up to smile at Akko who flushed at the attention.

“O-okay. I got it.”

“Great.” She then got to work, applying what needed to applied, and wrapping the clean white bandage after. Diana did this in her usual silence, focused. Sort of. There was one thing that had been nagging her for quite some time now, ever since she got to take a better look at Akko, now that they attended the same school. It was a unnerving, however. It hadn’t been long at all since they... ‘got along’, and Diana didn’t want to present something that might cause them to drift apart again. But it was eating at her, the need to know about it. It would determine how she’d interact with Akko from now on. It would show her what kind of relationship she was allowed to pursue. She needed a confirmation. She braced herself. Trying shouldn’t hurt. She could change the subject after testing the waters.

“Akko.”

“Hmm?” Was the casual-sounding hum.

‘She’s calm. Calmer around me.’ That little detail made Diana happy. So happy. This was progress. “May I ask a question?”

There was a pause, and Diana considered backing out. It appeared as though Akko was thinking about it deeply. Before Diana could take it back, Akko responded, “Sure. Ask away.”, and the heiress breathed a relieved sigh. “What did you wanna know?”

“Well, um... I just happened to notice that... you don’t...” Diana was really hoping this wasn’t a sensitive subject. She’d finally managed to close the gap between her and Akko. Sure it was by unconventional, and very strange means- unintentional, above all. She had just been worried about the girl upon seeing that her friend group was all gathered in the classroom except her. So Diana had gone searching, and was planning to offer to stay away from her friends for Akko’s sake. She was glad that things turned out the way it did, though.

“Diana?”

“Um... Akko.” She finished her job, smiling at the neat covering on her.. friend’s... hand. (They were friends now, right? At the very least...)

“Yes?” Akko seemed to notice the hesitation, and her instincts guided her to take hold of Diana’s trembling hands, encouraging her to continue.

Well this was new, Diana thought. Now or never, she supposes. A deep breath, and the floodgates opened.

“I just wondered... why... don’t you have a ring? Did you somehow lose it? Is that possible? But how? Wouldn’t you get in trouble with... everyone, I guess? Have you found your soulmate or not? If yes then I should probably just say goodbye here and, oh but not in the way you think, you might not get what I mean, but I still want to be friends-”

“Diana.”

“Yes?”

Akko’s cheeks puffed up, trying to hold it in, but ultimately failing as she burst into giggles, instinctively tucking a stray strand of hair behind Diana’s ear as she leaned forward to bump their foreheads together.

Ah, screw fate and it’s ways. Screw Diana’s soulmate that existed somewhere out there. In this one moment, she just felt so at peace, and in place, she’d deal with all the raging storms in her mind later. For now, it was just the two of them, hanging out in an infirmary, the smell of antiseptic on them, stupid words be damned.

“You’re rambling.”

//-//-//-//-//

It had been a few weeks- maybe just shy of two months- of friendship (?) with Diana, and Akko had never felt more alive in all her years. They had even spent her birthday together! Well, everyone else was there to, but... Anyway. The afternoon the question had been dropped, she had ended up explaining to the Scot her story with the ring, leaving out the detail of what it had written on it. That was a little too embarrassing for her to share yet. Baby steps.

She’d never dare ask about Diana’s ring, and she appreciated that the girl never brought up any soulmate talk that involved herself. Akko felt that it helped her cope with this one-sided love a little longer. She would no longer deny this attraction. She was so undeniably into Diana, it was crazy. She didn’t understand how teenage hormones and falling in love worked, but somehow she just knew. She felt a little apologetic to her soulmate, no longer feeling the need to search for him and her, the section of, [What to do if you haven’t found your soulmate yet.] remaining untouched. But well... things happen sometimes.

And sometimes, you become so much of a fool that you invite the girl you are in love with, who already has a soulmate, to your house, to your room, just so she can be the first to see that portable planetarium projector you were finally able to get your hands on for an affordable deal. You wouldn’t even cry at losing months worth of saved allowance and work wages. It was all worth it, to see her entire being practically glowing in awestruck wonder as you lay on your backs on the cushioned floor, having the chance to flaunt years of star study to your crush. The impressed gazed directed at you felt so good. You could get used to this. Especially when the visage of wonder glimmering in the dear girl’s eyes was outright precious.

A Diana in awe was cute.

So much so that Akko was in awe.

“Hey Diana...”

“Hmm?”

“Do you believe in magic?”

What a strange thing to ask in that moment. That’s what Diana thought. Akko thought the same. Just what had gotten over her. Yet she still wondered, thoughts flying far off into space, just as they always did when she gazed upon the stars in the night sky- or her ceiling’s artificial one.

‘What are you saying, Akko?” Diana chuckled, right hand reaching out to grasp Akko’s, fingers lacing together. She felt her heart flip as it was squeezed tight, unaware of the inner turmoil Akko was enduring at the lack of presence of a ring on that hand. Their eyes remained trained to the glowing heavenly bodies above, stories of the past, of fate, and the like, written all over.

“Do you believe in other worlds, Diana?”

“Well, many studies propose that they indeed exist.” Diana responded.

“What about alternate universes? A completely different you out there, living a different life.”

Diana turned her head to face Akko, the brunette still facing upwards, eyes glistening with unshed tears, barely noticeable in the dim lighting; but Diana always noticed. Because it was Akko.

“Don’t you think that somewhere out there... there could be another version of us; maybe a clumsy me, and a fantastic you, saving the world with strange words not understood by the rest of the world?”

“Maybe...” Diana breathed out in a whisper, oxygen effectively stolen by the tear that slipped down shapely cheeks. The moment felt so fragile, she was afraid if she made a move, it would shatter into a million pieces, never to see the light of day.

And god forbid it happen. Diana wanted to boast this tender feeling out under the brightness of the sun, for the world to witness.

“Why do you ask?”

She listened in agony at the choked intake of air, followed by the frailest of whispers. “Because maybe... the impossible for the Kagari Atsuko here... is possible for the Akko there.”

The heiress pondered those phrases a moment. “...Impossible, like?” Diana replied in equally hushed tones, something hopeful in her pitch.

‘Like you being meant for me, and I for you.’

But Akko couldn’t just say that.

“As impossible as using magic here, maybe?” Akko laughed in a normal, in-house voice, volume not too loud, but no longer a whisper. She should just bury her illegal thoughts deep down.

“I guess so.” She deflated. What had she desired to hear anyway? “Magic does seem like an unattainable power, some unimaginable, impossible concept.” Maybe she should get ready to leave soon. There was something heavy weighing in the atmosphere and in her heart, and she did not wish for a memory as sweet as this to turn sour due to her mood.

“You think so?” Akko’s steadying voice kept her rooted in place. “What if it isn’t so impossible after all?”

“How so?”

“Well, don’t they say that when people put their minds to it, when they truly desire and wish for it with all their hearts... like how the song goes, y’know? ‘When you wish upon a star your dreams come true’, or something.”

“Like the law of attraction and manifestation?” Diana supplied. “If you think positive things, positive things will come to you. Your reality becomes better. Like that?”

“Hmmm...” Akko tapped against the back of Diana’s hand, still entwined with hers, with her index thoughtfully. “Yes, but no. Kinda, but not really...? I don’t know how to describe what I’m thinking at the moment based on existing principles. Not too good at remembering. Heck, is there a quote that already exists?”

“Why not make your own, then?” Diana proposed.

“Heh... good idea. Let me think.”

“Take your time.” Diana enjoyed the little sounds Akko made as she thought.

“Oh! I got it!”

“Hoh? And what would those words of wisdom be, Miss Kagari?”

“Ready the papers, Miss Cavendish. We’re about to make the headlines with this!” They both giggled at their antics. “Drum roll, please! Dugudugudugudugudugu....dan!”

Diana nuzzled into Akko’s shoulder, enjoying all these little sound effects, the brunette’s voice calming her gradually, lulling her to sleep.

“Just what are these magnificent words, dear Akko?” Diana was far too drowsy to notice the splash of color painted across her companions face, the shyness melting into tenderness as she felt her warmth shift closer.

“A believing heart is your magic.”

And sleep was nearly robbed of her, eyes widening in the dark, unseen by Akko as the thumb on Diana’s free hand now brushed over the engravings on her ring. It was for sure now.

“You really are... the one.”

//-//-//-//-//

Something was off about Diana today. Was it her hair? No, impeccably styled as always, that couldn’t be it. Was it her makeup for today? No, it wasn’t that either. It was still that natural looking glow that brought out her innate beauty in all the best ways possible. Akko continued to check off boxes on her mental list, trying to figure out just what it was that was bothering her about Diana’s appearance today. Was it her clothes? But that was the uniform they wore daily! Did she... get any new jewelry? Hmm, she didn’t seem the type to wear any at school.

Then...

Was it the ring that painfully reminded Akko that the person she might be in love with was already meant for someone else? No, that couldn’t be it either. Last Akko checked, the ring was snugly fitted, definitely on... huh? The ring was... gone? No? Akko scanned Diana’s smooth looking left hand. No it wasn’t there. Not on the left, and her eyes couldn’t help but guide her hopeful soul to... ah. It really wasn’t on the left, but on the right.

Huh? That wasn’t right.

This confused Akko. Enough to make her approach Diana’s seat during lunch, tapping her attention away from her conversation with Lotte and Barbara.

“H-hey Diana, I have a question... “

“Yes?” Said girl gave Akko her full attention. There was something different about the way she smiled at Akko today as well, it seemed. Odd. Nice. But odd.

“So like... uh... W-Why is your... your ri-” Akko could feel droplets of sweat forming on her brow, threatening to trickled down the side of her face if she so much as twitched.

“Ri?”

“Why’s your ri- r....r-r- Right ear larger than your left?!”

Dainty hands shot up to cover her ears, blushing shocked and mortified. “WHAT?!”

Whoops, Akko messed up. “HAHA AHA.. KIDDING! Nah, I was messing with you!” The brunette forcibly laughed, patting Diana’s back in uneasy comfort.

“Akko, that wasn’t very nice.” Lotte scolded, and the said girl nodded, sighing.

“I know. Sorry guys.” She apologized properly, looking to Diana in particular. She received a gracious smile and a pat on the cheek, the skin underneath the ringed-hand warming speedily.

“It’s alright.”

That kindness allowed her to gather bits of courage to finally state her inquiry. Diana would answer her just fine, right? Akko had to when asked about the whereabouts of her ring. It was fair trade?

“I was just wondering, because I recalled you wearing your ring on your left hand until recently. But now it’s on your right. I guess you could say I was just curious?”

“Eh?”

“Is that so, Diana?” Hannah questioned, eyes wide. “But why would you move it in reverse? Now that you’ve actually found- mrrrpmmphhh.”

Akko shot a puzzled glance at Hannah and Barbara, the latter clasping a hand over the ginger’s mouth.

“N-nothing. You didn’t hear anything.” She covered. “You heard nothing, are we clear?” She threatened, and Akko actually shivered.

“Holy crap, your women can get so scary, Amanda.” She mentioned to the redhead seated in front of the other girls.

She heard her release a heavy sigh before getting up from her seat and turning to face the group. “It’s because you two are such a pain, that’s why. Just get it over with, Cavendish! What’s holding you back? It’s as simple as this, see? When you have a dense mofo like Akko, you just gotta give her a little push. A literal one.” And that was the only warning they got before Diana felt soft, slightly chapped lips barely missing her own, brushing against the corner of her mouth.

Akko removed herself so fast, they all worried she’d get whiplash. “S-s-s-s-s-sorry! Sorry Diana, I didn’t- it was... AMANDA!”

“I was helping.”

“You little...”

“Rather than giving me your attention, shouldn’t you talk it over with miss salad head over there?”

Akko blinked, the cogs in her mind slowly spinning, then clicked. “Did you just... insult... ah, screw you!” Akko yelled, blush burning so hot, it was hard to keep her eyes open.

Heeding Amanda’s advice nonetheless, she turned to an equally red Diana, unable to meet her eyes. Akko didn’t think her face could get any hotter than it felt right now, but at the sight of Diana’s tongue quickly swiping across her lips, Akko’s face might as well be venus.

She should at least try to say something, right? Something comforting... or witty... or clever.

“Sorry...” That would work.

“It’s alright.”

//-//-//-//-//

She stared at her invitation. Wow. Did Andrew really take her to shop for Denise’s birthday gift months before it happened? The neat script spelling out, ‘You are cordially invited’ underneath the older woman’s name with the date of the ball kind of set her nerves on fire.

She was not one for formal events. But then Denise had been nice enough to hand it in person, looking like she’d be willing to beg for Akko to come. Andrew stood behind her menacingly, a pressuring force looming in the room.

But really, how was she supposed to do this? Sure she had experience with the arts and dancing. She had wanted to be a performer at some point in her life before deciding on her current course, keeping the arts as a hobby. That covered her bases in terms of the ballroom dancing part. But as for etiquette and all that jazz, Akko had no clue. She was just a normal girl, living a normal life, having met amazing people, and... the love of her life.

She groaned in remembrance, pulling out a slip of paper, an extra entrance voucher. ‘Bring a plus one’, Denise had said. Well... that wouldn’t be a problem, Akko supposed. Maybe... She could always ask Diana.

The thought of the girl set flurries of butterflies wild in her stomach, face warming up along with her heart. She fiddled with the band situated around her left ring finger. She was still getting used to it, the metal feeling awkward in that spot. That’s just what she gets for never wearing it all these years. Kind of a nuisance, if she were being honest; but... at the same time... it was a reminder that...

[“So you’re... my soulmate...”

“Looks like it.”

“Did you... know about it?” She watched fluffy hair bounce along with the bobbing of a shy girl’s head. “How long...?”

“I had a feeling right from when we met... then confirmed it after you first showed me your planetarium.”

“...that’s a few weeks back.”

“You’re just so slow.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. It really is now.”]

“AAAAHHHH!!” Akko hollered, ridding herself of the embarrassed tension in her body. “Hnnnggghhh...” Holding in all her squeals, she flew onto her bed, hugging a pillow tight and rolling about. Maybe she should call Diana right now, if only to hear her voice. Oh, and she should just pop the question while she’s at it, the invitation.

A few rings, one, two, three fo-

[“Hello?”]

“Did you know I love your voice? It was the first thing I fell in love with, ever since you saved me from the clutches of death.” She couldn’t hold back the adoration she felt for the Englishwoman any longer.

[“Oh my god, Akko. Did you really just call me so you could be such a sap?”] Her giggle was always the best, Akko reveled.

“No~, or kind of yes, but not entirely.”

[“Is that so?”] Diana teased through the line.

“Don’t believe me?”

[“Of course I do! After all... it’s my magic.”]

“Who’s the sap now.”

[“I learned only from the best.”]

“Amanda?”

[“YOU, you idiot!”] Akko laughed at the reaction, squealing inwardly in delight. Diana’s laughter alongside hers died down, the phone going silent for a bit. And then, [“You’re the best.”].

Akko just couldn’t handle it.

“I love you.”

[“I love you too, sweetheart.”]

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

[“I love you more.”]

“I love you! I love you! I love you!”

[“I love you more than anything in this world.”]

Akko was not crying.

“I love you... be my plus one?”

[“...”]

[“Always.”]

//-//-//-//-//

“My baby... so grown up now and looking all gorgeous.” Mrs. Kagari wiped a tear from her eye, admiring her daughter in a russet-toned gown, sleeveless, with a low dip in the back, fitting, and at the same time, flowing off her frame and onto the floor. It was simple, yet elegant. It matched well with Akko’s hair; usual bangs side-swept, signature ponytail gone, her long brown hair slightly curled and hanging off on one shoulder, exposing the other. All this topped with a little make-up, and even Andrew commended this picture of Akko that could pass as part of high society.

“Shall we?” He held out an arm for her to take, door open with a car waiting right outside. Akko’s father sobbed loudly, holding onto his wife for dear life.

“M-Mama! MY BABY! MY BABY IS BEING TAKEN AWAY BY SOME RICH YOUNG BRAT WHO JUST LOOKS GOOD, AND IS A LITTLE SMART, AND OWNS A HOSPITAL.”

“Well, don’t those sound like amazing specs.” Akko’s mama laughed, consoling the poor man. “You sound like a father sending his daughter off to meet her groom.”

“I AM.”

“But Diana-chan is so cute, though?”

“Man or woman, whoever takes my baby away from me and ends up hurting her... they will never see the light of the afterlife.”

Diana felt a chill run up her spine as she waited in the car.

“Oh, hush you. You’re overreacting.”

“AM I?!”

“Byebye, papa. I’ll be home soon. Love you~ Love you more, Mama!”

“Ah- bye, my darling daughter, my baby, my sun, light of my world, my angel!”

“You can stop embarrassing her now, darling.”

//-//-//-//-//

“Akko, don’t be so stiff.” Diana whispered into the girl’s ear, a hand caressing the small of her back to ease away the nerves. “You’ll be fine. Just think of it as any old party.”

“E-e-e-easy for you t-to say. You g-grew up with th-this.” Akko retorted, a hand with some champagne shakily approaching her lips.

“Really, you’re too high-strung.” The blonde sighed, pointing to Akko’s best friends. “Look at Lotte and Sucy, they look normal.”

Akko glared at her best friends who seemed to be enjoying themselves without a worry in the world. Oh, golly, what a treat. Maybe she shouldn’t have offered their extra tickets to them so she wouldn’t feel as bitter.

“Hey.” A flick was sent to her forehead. “No mean thoughts.”

“I wasn’t-”

“Di.A. NAAAA~” Here came a wild Denise, flying through the air to hug an alarmed Diana, barely catching her. It would appear as thought they were good friends, and Denise, not knowing anything about the relationship between her two dear bosom buddies, had sent them each an invitation with the hopes of bringing a plus one to introduce to her (so she could tease them about it), all the while, being kept in the dark that their plus one just so happened to be each other.

Which also explained the extra tickets that had gone to Lotte and Sucy. Akko was afraid it would be rude to just hand them away, but Diana reassured her it would be just fine. They both knew how kind-hearted and open-minded Denise was anyway.

“M-miss Walsh... please let me breathe.”

“Diana~ It’s Denise!”

“D-Denise... please... my airways...”

With greetings out of the way (Akko being squeezed to death as well, to be fair), the announcement were made, and the party commenced, music playing as the floor opened for the dances.

...

Akko swore she was a good dancer. Really! She was the ace of their studio. She could dance almost anything after learning it over the course of a few weeks at most, and so few days at the very least. So she couldn’t understand just how she’d suddenly acquired two left feet, constantly, and clumsily stepping on poor Diana’s feet.

One step. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

Another miss. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

“S-sorry!”

“...”

“Oh my gosh, I really am sorry!”

“I-it’s quite alright...”

“...”

“Wanna get some fresh air?”

“Pleasured.”

//-//-//-//-//

The Walsh’s family gardens were certainly award winning, Akko admired. As someone with a hobby in that field, this was a dream come true, to see such stellar workmanship. With flowers o’er the earth, and stars up above, the moon reflecting ripples into a still, small lake just a few yards down, it was the picture of beauty.

Yet nothing could compare to Diana by her side. Akko admired the way the woman’s gown clung to her curves in all the right places, how midnight blue reminded her of the skies they were under, and the dear stars in the heiress eyes sparkled ever brighter. How the earrings that dangled sparkling silver matched Akko’s own, only in gold, how her hair was fixed to the side as well, a portion of her bangs tucked neatly behind her ear, held back by a pin Akko had gotten her recently.

Akko was transfixed, as though she were under a witch’s spell. A very gorgeous, kind-hearted, hardworking, and sincere witch. A woman she loved with every fiber of her being, with the entirety of her heart.

She watched the moonlight caress ivory skin, glistening under its kind rays. Akko wanted to do so as well. Touch it, and know she was real and not just a figment of her imagination.

“I love you.” She murmured, reaching forward, arms wrapped around a slim waist, lips pressing against a bare shoulder. “I love you.”

Diana hummed, hands resting over Akko’s latched on to her abdomen. “Dance with me, Love.” She beckoned, leading them to sway under the night sky, the crickets and the breeze playing them a song of romance solely for their rapture.

The moon as their only witness, they vowed silent words, moving along the area, spinning, swaying, dancing, laughing, smiling, crying.

Akko never felt as lucky as she did in this moment. She was beyond fortunate. This moment she’d never forget, a memory never to be destroyed all her life, reminding her that she was blessed.

Blessed, and still a little foolish.

“I still don’t get it, you know. Why ‘cabbage’?”

Diana laughed into the tranquil night. Slapping Akko’s bare arm in fondness. “Did you really just ask that? Now of all times? With a romantic mood set up like this?” She shook her head in disbelief. “You are amazing, Kagari Atsuko. I love you to death, really I do... but are you seriously still hung over that?” She inquired, spinning her fated partner about, bringing her back in close. “Does it have to make sense? Isn’t it enough to know that you’re meant to be mine, and I’m forever yours?”

Akko returned that tender smile, leaning up to place a kiss against Diana’s throat. “Well, yeah, I guess; but... like... doesn’t that defeat the rings’ purpose, then?”

“Does it matter?”

“...It doesn’t. Not anymore. Not when you’re by my side, because that’s all that matters.”

“Great answer.”

“Diana?”

“Hmmm? What is it now?” Diana asked, amused that the peaceful mood didn’t look like it would settle back down anytime soon.

“For ruining the moment.... sorry.” All Akko’s laughing refuted that statement. Diana knew they both didn’t regret it one bit. Not at all. So with a smile only meant for her world nestled in her arms, leaning down and closing the gap bit-by-bit, what else could Diana reply with except,

“...It’s alright.”

And they saw stars.

//-//-//-//-//

This... was an unexpected development.

“...Wanna come over?”

“I’d love to.”

Cold, soaked and dropped off by the Cavendish’s service car, they made their way up the drive way, Akko fumbling for her house keys in the wee hours of the morning.

“Sorry, I really didn’t expect it to rain when I invited you out.”

“It’s fine, it wasn’t something within our control at all. The night looked perfectly clear, too.”

Flipping on the lights by the threshold, Akko guided Diana in, drenched shoes flying off, but immediately retrieved and set to the side to drip properly. They’d have to clean and dry those tomorrow better, but for now, a bath of warmth was in order.

Akko had insisted Diana take one first, but ever the gentlewoman, Diana did not move an inch until she was absolutely certain Akko would be alright. Her strongest argument stood to be, “Just who was it that I had to take to the hospital upon our first encounter.”, and Akko could only pout, begrudgingly accepting her defeat and warming herself a bath, but not without leaving Diana a towel and a temporary change of clothes so she wouldn’t get chills.

As Akko tagged Diana with a kiss to the lips, switching places after drawing the girl a fresh warm bath, she made her way to the kitchen, deciding to make them some vegetable soup to warm them up from the inside. Would Diana like that too?

Choosing and gathering her ingredients, she began prepping, chopping up everything as her water in the pot was brought to a boil.

It didn’t take her long at all to finish. By the time the food was ready, Diana was back downstairs, clad in one of Akko’s oversized shirts and pajama bottoms. It did strange things to Akko’s dear heart. On Diana’s part, just the sight of her future wife (she was a woman with a vision for tomorrow) preparing her a meal, fresh from a bath, in their own little world... How could she not fall deeper in love? So in love that she could just kiss her!

And she did just that.

Walking up to the shorter girl, Diana coaxed her into warm arms, a hand making its way into brunette strands, entangling them around her fingers, ring shining amidst them. This was bliss. This was everything to her.

This was everything to Akko. Everything she’d hoped for and wanted, and even more.

“I love you.”

Soft. A little salty, maybe the soup’s seasoning. Warm and gentle, yet pressured and emotional. Tenderly passionate, and passionately tender, their lips danced a song that they’d forever remember.

And as they sat down to eat, seated in front of each other, they motioned for cheers with their chopsticks, a leafy green clipped between one pair.

And that’s when Akko realized that it all made perfect sense.

The rings weren’t wrong, and the words would always be right.

“Ah...

Cabbage.”

~end.

A/N: Can you believe it? All that, just so I could say in the end, “Cabbage”. Honestly, Akko is so slow. Somehow I’m not quite satisfied with this, and maybe I should’ve gone with a different approach or piece, or simply edited my original plan to fit safely within the guidelines, but... Idk. Maybe I’m as much of a fool as Akko, that way. Was it worth the thousands of bothersome words to read? Haha. Feedback is appreciated, as always. Hope you enjoyed.

~Shintori Khazumi

#heliishly long oneshot #I'mdying #diakkoday #diakkoday2021 #Little Witch Academia #lwa #diakko #diana cavendish #kagari atsuko #andrew hanbridge #Sucy Manbavaran #and all the other girls but I'm too lazy to tag #romance #soulmate au #cabbage #srsly #this could be a multichap

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translations-by-aiimee · 3 years

Text

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 31

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 31

"Stop staring. It's not like I can run away." Lin Yan couldn't help muttering.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He grabbed Xiao Yu's wrist. Hadn't they buried the hatchet?

"I said I wouldn't drive you away."

Xiao Yu turned his head and looked out the window like he couldn't hear him. For some reason, Lin Yan felt that his demeanour made him look sad, like the shadow standing alone under a street lamp on a rainy night, waiting for him quietly outside the car window for the day that he opened the door.

However, there had been some strange developments during this period. Lin Yan found that when he was concentrating, he could close his eyes and perceive a greenish-black shadow in Xiao Yu's direction. The butterfly orchid on the windowsill had a warm, pale yellow glow floating around it, but it was much fainter than the one he had seen around the little Daoist priest on the mountain. Lin Yan found an explanation for this in a journal devoted to Daoism. All living creatures in the world have yang energy. When ghosts pretend to be human, looking at their aura of yin-yang energy can usually break the illusion.

In ancient times, this ability was called "Opening the Third Eye." It usually took a long time to practice and it was extremely rare to acquire it accidentally like Lin Yan had. He sighed as he stared at the dream-repellent talisman on the paper and thought that this was a good thing. The next time he came across a strange person, he'd be able to tell whether they were alive or dead, meaning he wouldn't get tricked by the little girl again.

Since the little girl had shown up Lin Yan and Xiao Yu were basically inseparable, which really made him feel embarrassed. He wasn't sure why but Xiao Yu’s presence seemed to have completely aroused his hidden desires. Lin Yan couldn't remember ever having these kinds of urges before. Now, he was taunted by the slender figure in front of him, and he had to rush to the washroom for the third time to relieve his uncomfortable situation.

After a steamy dream, the habits he had abandoned during his adolescence suddenly made a resurgence. Lin Yan locked the bathroom door, pressing himself against the door and wrapped his fingers around his shaft. He slowly reached moved to the tip, pressing it, rubbing it; the whole thing feeling like it was on fire. Lin Yan bit his fist and muffled a groan, impatiently adding more pressure. When he stroked the underside, the top pulsed painfully. When he stroked the topside, the emptiness underneath him made it so uncomfortable he could cry. Nothing he did was enough to satisfy him. He held onto the sink to catch his breath and roughly splashed his face with cold water to extinguish the heat in his belly. "You pervert," Lin Yan scolded himself, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

Fortunately, Xiao Yu didn't stick to him like he did before. He even took the initiative to stay by his side a few times and he never moved to avoid him. Lin Yan wiped his hands with a towel and suddenly remembered what time it was, making him slightly aggravated.

Professor File Folder's secretary had called him a few days later than planned while Lin Yan was in the middle of being constantly tortured. When he heard the sweet female voice on the phone, a shock of fear ran through him. Since the girl in red had appeared, he was instinctively wary of any female stranger. The female secretary said somewhat apologetically that the team had just returned from a business trip with the feng shui master, and was finishing the roster of the Ming tomb archaeology artifacts.

"It's a bit late today. Are you free tomorrow or the day after tomorrow? You can come directly to the institute to see the materials you need."

"Let's do it tomorrow." Lin Yan casually drew a talisman on the paper, a charm meant for deception. "I can come at 10 o'clock if that works for you."

"That works." The female secretary paused: "Umm. . . can you not tell the professor that I'm just calling you now? I've only been here for a short while, it'd be embarrassing if he found out."

Lin Yan hung up the phone and saved the secretary's number on his phone. When he looked up again, Xiao Yu was still sitting in the same posture, as if he didn't care about that discussion at all. He threw the pen into the sofa and rubbed his forehead against Xiao Yu's shoulder. He murmured: "I found something that might explain your situation. Come with me tomorrow?"

Xiao Yu's eyes went cold. Lin Yan guessed that he would react that way. He sighed and said: "I know you don't like it, but I think this whole thing started when I entered your tomb. The two of us are connected, and now even Second Immortal Gu's spirit is being dragged into it. As the saying goes, it is better to take the initiative than wait around for death to show up. Maybe the person who brought me to your tomb will know something."

"It's dangerous." Xiao Yu frowned.

"I know." Lin Yan dragged his pillow into his arms. He thought for a second: "I still have you. Really, you make me feel much safer."

Xiao Yu didn't deny it. He gently touched Lin Yan's hair, with something he couldn't read hidden in his deep eyes. Lin Yan grew anxious and subconsciously grabbed Xiao Yu's wrist. He asked: "You'll come with me, right?"

Xiao Yu remained silent for a while and then nodded.

---------

When he brought A-Yan some dinner, Lin Yan mentioned how he was being forced by Xiao Yu to learn Daoism at home. The little Daoist priest was so excited that he didn't even touch his dinner, instead pestering him to share more details. The books made Daoism out to be much simpler than it truly was. Each spell required a focused mindset in order for it to work. The most talented people only tracing out the symbol might get a measly tenth of the intended effect, but most would only get a scrap of useless paper.

"I-I'll teach you when I get out of the hospital." The little Daoist's pale face flushed with excitement and his eyes were gleamed brightly: "It won't be as good as my master's lessons, but it should be fine for a beginner."

Lin Yan didn't know how to react. He lay down on the next hospital bed with his head resting on his arms, staring at the ceiling of the room in a daze. He said that he was unlucky enough. Not long ago, he was sitting in his classroom and talking about his archaeological experience with the shy girls in the class, freaking them out whenever he mentioned the corpse. The youngest man in the dormitory pointed to the little Daoist sitting in the corner and told Lin Yan to glance over at him and that he should be careful. There were rumours that people who offended him in their freshman year said they saw ghosts. He squinted his eyes and made faces, making everyone laugh.

But now he was being targeted by a ghost. He was worried about things that he didn't know how to fix. He had even bought a can of cinnabar to learn how to exorcise ghosts from the little Daoist priest. Lin Yan sighed and lamented: "I want to learn, but I don't want to be forced to do it."

"He's been weird recently. He has a lot on his mind, but he won't tell me what he's thinking." Lin Yan rubbed his face. "A-Yan, what do you think ghosts think about all day long?"

The little Daoist was silent for a while, and answered the wrong question: "You care about him very much."

Lin Yan turned to face A-Yan, subconsciously playing with the sheets with his fingers. He helplessly said: "Obviously I care. We're stuck together 24/7. Even my girlfriend wouldn't get this kind of treatment." He glanced at the phone and frowned, pushing himself up on the bed: "I have to go. It's Weiwei's birthday. I promised I'd be there and I shouldn't be late."

"Weiwei?"

"The one who upgraded our tickets for us during the lecture." Lin Yan glanced sheepishly at Xiao Yu.

A-Yan tore off a loose thread from the blanket. The little Daoist priest twisted the cotton thread around his fingers loosely. He gestured his sharp chin towards Xiao Yu, and inquired: "He's letting you go?"

Lin Yan was going to just nod his head but suddenly clued into what the Daoist had said. He threw the pillow towards the little Daoist priest, and said happily, "There's nothing to let go of. Even people being stalked by ghosts have basic human rights, don't they?"

The little Daoist put his chin on the pillow. He shook his head: "I-I can see that he likes you."

Lin Yan stiffened. His tone was somewhat unnatural: "Stop talking nonsense. What does it matter who he likes." Lin Yan packed the dinner containers and hurriedly changed the subject: "What do you want to eat tomorrow? I have ribs at home. I could make soup for you?"

A-Yan stared at him for a long time. His skin was very pale but his eyes were very dark. His pupils were more dilated than usual. In addition, he was covered with a sheen of sweat. At first glance, he looked a bit like a reptile. After staring at Lin Yan, his whole body was covered in a cold sweat. A-Yan's mouth twitched. A trace of coldness flashed in his eyes and he said softly: "Ghosts are very possessive about what they want. Don't mess with them."

Lin Yan's hands stopped moving. After A-Yan spoke, he suddenly felt that the room had grown too quiet and he panicked. His eyes fell from Xiao Yu's back and moved all the way down to his black boots standing on a small section of floor tile. Lin Yan barely squeezed out a smile: "Don't worry, I know. We're just strangers, really. I want to live a normal life again."

Lin Yan had always tried to avoid going to the same events as Weiwei, but he couldn't really avoid it this time. On one hand, he promised he'd go. On the other hand, he was getting sick of staying looked up in his apartment recently and was bored. Just looking at the talismans and spells plastered all over his house, the thread-bound books on the table, sofa, and his bed, Lin Yan felt like he had become an old witch in a fairy tale. All he was missing was a broomstick to fly out of his twelfth-floor apartment. He just wanted to hear another human voice. Lin Yan sighed. Any human voice other than Xiao Yu, A-Yan or Yin Zhou.

But, in the end, once Lin Yan showed up at the address, he was regretting it. Weiwei always loved to have a good time. He didn't make it in time for dinner and was dragged directly to Houhai for the second stop of the night when he showed up at the restaurant he was supposed to meet them at. The summer night was warm and humid, with bars lining the lake's shoreline. The evening breeze was filled with the light scent of lotus flowers. The atmosphere reminded Lin Yan about the old days. After dinner, he and Weiwei would walk along the lake with a street lamp casting their shadows on the ground. When the jazz musician took off his hat and whistled at the two of them, Weiwei unceremoniously blew kisses back, and Lin Yan smiled warmly at her side.

In all fairness, his past with Weiwei was pretty good. It wasn't perfect, but it was simple and heartfelt.

At that time, he also seriously thought about proposing to Weiwei. He had thought out a future that he could see her being a part of.

So what happened?

The background music of the bar was wild, the strong drum beats hitting his eardrums, and even his heartbeat synced with the rhythm of the music. Lin Yan was bored out of his mind. He sat in the corner with a cup of Chivas whiskey infused with black tea. Men and women embraced in the dark, twisting their bodies between the small gaps between the tables, like a frenzy of madness. The amount of tea in his cup was slowly going down and the whiskey burned his throat. When he drank it all, Lin Yan felt that the world was spinning. He dizzily lay across the table, whispering a name over and over again.

. . . Xiao Yu, Xiao Yu.

His brain was muddled from the alcohol and it didn't have a filter anymore. It took Lin Yan a long time to understand what he was saying. "You're a fucking pervert." He smacked himself.

#dig a grave to dig out a ghost translation #dig a grave to dig out a ghost #english translation #chinese bl #chinese novel #bl novel #yaoi novel #yaoi #danmei novel #danmei

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fanfictionlover333 · 3 years

Text

Sea Of Stars

This the story of the second greatest pirate to have ever been born. Surely, you do not believe Jack Sparrow could be outdone.

Jason Baker is his name, and this tale is one of his countless adventures. It begins on the ship known as The Phoenix. Calling it a ship could be considered an insult. If one wanted a more accurate description, one might say it was a magnificent vessel of monumental proportions. What would he do if someone damaged The Phoenix? Nothing compared to what he would do to someone who hurt his love.

Captain Baker was watching stars rush by him as he stood on the deck. With the universe at the tip of his fingers, he was completely free. Yet, that belief in total freedom was marred when a burning cannonball crashed through the shield into the yardarm. Baker's head swiveled around to the aft where the flaming projectile was shot from. In the distance, Baker spotted a ship. Its hull was bright emerald green. Baker smiled inwardly amused by the prospect of a showdown with the target who stuck out like a sore thumb.

"Listen up crew!" Captain Baker bellowed strolling calmly to the helm. He took the wheel from his first mate with a devious smirk. "Time to make the fuckers pay Clayton." He whispered leaning in toward his beloved. He could drown in his sapphire blue eyes and lose himself in Clayton's broad shoulders. Then he redirected his attention to the rest of his crew, Baker cleared his throat before continuing to speak. "If they want a battle, we will give the bastards a war, Ready the cannons arm the laser guns."

The captain's commands were met with an eruption of cheers from the men and women on the deck below. Meanwhile, Clayton’s eyes remained fixed on the captain watching his long shaggy black hair lay against his old leather coat moving up and down with his shoulders. The twinkle in Baker's sea-blue eyes told Clayton things were going to spin out of control. This realization should have scared him and perhaps it would have been if he were not with Baker. They were a team, and nothing could tear them apart. After the second shot barely missed them thanks to Baker's superb steering Clayton bolted down to the engine room.

"It's about bloody time! Where have you been you nitwit?!" Paulette Little snapped bursting with outrage. "Does everyone expect me to wave a blasted wand to repair a cannon ball-sized hole? The mechanic's words came out blistering with indignation.

Clayton let out a chuckle, "well Paulette no one can say you lack in passion." Clayton's playful verbal jab was met with a string of what he could only assume were colorful insults. Then she got down to business. The redhead started barking out commands with no time to waste.

Paulette would have appeared fragile to anyone who saw her outside the ship. Her thin frame permitted her to move freely within the cramped space. As she wiggled in-between and crawled underneath the damaged pieces in the shield generator. All the while, Paulette gave Clayton instructions on how to reboot the computer and what tools to hand her. Moments later they both breathed a sigh of relief when the shield came back online. However, it was short-lived because the ship slammed into something. "That mad man is going to kill us all!" Paulette bellowed.

"Probably sooner than later," Clayton rumbled with laughter yelling over the emergency alarms that were loudly proclaiming they were flying into a meteor storm.

That left Paulette speechless and unsure whether to cackle along with him. The ship shook as if it was trapped in trembling hands. Then everything was as still and quiet as a corpse. Paulette and Clayton shared a look of dread. As seconds went by, they waited for a sign as to what was going on. The lights were on, and all systems seemed to be operating. They should have been able to hear the crew’s footsteps on the deck above them but there was not a sound.

After what felt like hours, they could hear someone coming down the stairs. The computer gave no warning about intruders but under the circumstances, they could assume nothing. The duo clutched their semi-automatic laser shooters. As the footsteps grew closer Clayton's heartbeat raced at warp speed. By the time, the door leading to the engine room creaked open the two of them had already drawn their weapons.

A half-second before they could fire upon the unsuspecting prey, they put the laser guns down. The only thing saving the person from being turned into Swiss cheese was the sound of jingling bells " Silver I have half a mind to put a hole in you. What is the bloody matter with you? Are you trying to scare me to death?!" Paulette fumed a squeak of fear hidden in her voice and a slight quiver in her hand as she returned her shooter to her holster.

Silver tilted his head in their direction. For a tense moment, Silver's pale blue eyes seemed to pierce through her. When he, at last, regained the ability to speak he spoke in the raspy whisper of a man who had been to hell and back. "The captain... has been wounded."

In that instant, the world froze around Clayton. Baker was wounded. When? How? Who was responsible for it? Was Baker going to live? All these questions and many more overtook his panicked mind like an army trampling the ground as they marched to battle. He scoured Silver's face for any sign that he was joking. However, much to his horror there had been no devilish gleam in the seasoned navigator’s eyes or a repressed devious smirk. There was none to be found... His stare was vacant, even his rich brown skin seemed to pale as a result of his destress.

The next thing Clayton knew, he was standing in the middle of the deck pushing his way through a crowd as he fought his way to the nursing office. The head doctor Helena was not thrilled about his intrusion but she had anticipated it. Whenever the captain was hurt Clayton was close behind. She met him in front of the patients’ quarters and led him to the private room set aside for Baker. "He's lost a lot of blood, but he will make full recovery. At the moment he needs to rest."

Clayton tried desperately to listen to what Helena was telling him, but his frenzied mind could just hear Baker lost blood. Baker had lost so much he was willingly laying in a hospital bed. If Baker was an average human such an event would not have been notable, but he wasn't regular. "Have you been listening to me?" Helena reprimanded.

Clayton snapped out of his daze. "Sorry doc," Clayton murmured remorsefully. A light blush turned his cheeks pink.

"Oh, just get in there already." Helena encouraged with an eye roll. She moved to the side just before Clayton barreled into the room. Helena smiled inwardly, Baker had nearly bled to death, and he was still the luckiest bastard alive.

Clayton closed the door as Helena went down a corridor. He allowed his heart to steady as Baker's eyes fluttered open. His knees went weak with relief, and he sunk into the chair by Baker's bed. "Are you going to tell me what happened to you?" Clayton asked his captain his voice quiet as a mouse.

Baker's eyes dimmed as if he was staring into an abyss. Baker shook his head like he was shaking off chains. "We don't have to talk about that..." Baker croaked struggling to compel the answer through his dry throat. "Right now, I just want to hold you," Baker begged reaching out for Clayton's hand.

Clayton opened his mouth to argue but he decided to drop the subject for the time being. "Alright," he whispered with a small sigh as he crawled into bed. Both of them fell to sleep in moments.

The solitary reprieve ended abruptly when they awoke to a knock on the door. Baker tried to sit up, but Clayton shot him a glare that communicated, you are not going anywhere. Baker obeyed the unspoken order.

Clayton watched him out of the corner of his eye. Baker started to laugh but it was stifled by the protests of his broken ribs. Clayton rolled his eyes opening the door. "Good morning," Dr. Helena greeted. "I was going to ask if our charming captain was conscious. However, if he has enough zeal to test your patience, I've been worried about nothing."

Her playful jab was met with a twinkle of approval from Clayton's drowsy eyes. "Yes, Clayton nodded solemnly. "The old man will be around for many years to drive us all up the wall."

"Damn right!" Baker howled with pride and the spark that comes from a need for justice. Both crewmembers snickered like children in response. "I can hear you two," the captain drawled.

"Oh good," Helena chirped with delight. "My favorite patient is awake," Helena noted. "At the risk of asking a stupid question, do you need anything for the pain?" The doctor asked the inquiry slipping with the ease of predictability. She peeked around the corner twirling her long black hair in her fingertips with a glint in her grey eyes.

"The only thing I need is a bottle of rum and my ship in working order," Baker growled with vigor.

"As your doctor, I cannot in good conscience recommend you consume alcohol in this condition. Then again who am to get in the way of your fun." She finished a huff like a parent exhausted after a long day of trying to wrangle their hyper toddler. Helena didn't have time to waste debating with him. So, she refocused her attention on Clayton. "Paulette told me to tell you that we will be docking at a repair station any minute. She’s going to need an extra pair of hands when we get there. "

Clayton nodded sharply, "I'll be down to help her once we arrive," Clayton assured. With her job done Helena left the men to their own devices.

She was correct the journey was brief. Yet, time seemed to all but cease to move. Baker stared blankly at the ceiling. The events of the day had inflicted as much if not more agony on his mind than his body. He felt like his psyche had been ravaged then discarded. The single solitary that thing tethered him to the world was Clayton's hand in his.

When they reached the destination, Baker was snoozing unaware that Clayton had gone down to the engine room. "Paulette?" Clayton called walking down the stairs.

"Here," Paulette answered as Clayton came around the corner. She was welding wires back together. She never took her eyes away from the assignment at hand. "Toss this in the trash shoot," Paulette stated passing him a chunk of burned and melted wiring.

"I'm more than a little caught off guard." Clayton snorted relieved she was not hurling broken pieces at him. "Last time I spoke to you I got the impression you were on the verge of scrapping this ship."

"You were absolutely right but the damage wasn't as extensive as I thought." Paulette hummed as if she was thinking out loud, "we will be ace in a week."

Clayton furrowed his brow, "Paulette, you have things under control. So, why did you ask for me to come here?"

"I am allowed to worry about my little odd group of misfits," Paulette remarked flashing a grin. "So, how are you love?" It was a loaded question. Yet, her soft and disinterested tone lessened the impact.

Clayton sat on the floor with his back against the wall. "Baker is shutting me out... He won't tell me what happened..." Clayton paused throwing his hands up in the air. "He's hardly speaking at all..."

"The bloke has had a bewildering day. Perhaps, let him take a moment to collect his thoughts." Paulette commented with all the sarcasm she could muster.

"What if he doesn't come around?" He persisted

"He will," she exhaled. "Now, scamper off, you are distracting me." Paulette scowled waving her hand as if to brush him away.

"You told me you needed my help," he argued. If looks could kill Clayton would have dropped dead faster than rocks plummeting to the ocean floor. Needless to say, he made himself scarce.

He returned to Baker's room and climbed into bed. Baker purred snuggling up to him and embracing him. "Easy..." Clayton cautioned as Baker's hand slipped underneath his shirt. "You have to rest."

"Don't want rest...Want you..." Baker slurred through the shroud of sleep. " I Was gone... for so long." He whimpered incoherently.

"Gone?" Clayton echoed in disbelief. "What are you talking about? We have been together on the ship for months.

Baker shook his head. "That doesn't matter anymore. The only thing I care about is marrying you after I even the score with the assholes who landed me in this bed.

"Marry me?" Clayton gasped as if the wind had been knocked out of him. "Are you messing with me?"

"Will you marry me?" Baker asked as if he didn't hear him. Clayton nodded unable to speak while his heart raised.

@bauliya Thnx

@theworldofprompts

The pirate asks their lover for their hand in marriage

#prompt response #original story #OCs #lgbt characters

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aenwoedbeannaa · 4 years

Text

Promise Me | Geralt x Reader

Warnings: Some violent, bloody monster-hunting, but also just a lot of fluffy fluff.

Summary: You’ve been traveling with Geralt and some of his companions for a few weeks, picking up some Witcher skills along the way. One moment of overconfidence leaves you seriously injured, and some deeply buried feelings come to the surface.

Notes: Listen, I am a strong woman who loves other strong women but sometimes ya girl just wants a nice sweet Geralt to the rescue fluffy one-shot, and that is why we are here today. :’)

Sleeping doesn’t come easy on the road, despite the basic elixirs that the Witcher offered you. Valerian root, chamomile tea – nothing quite seemed to work. So, it is no surprise when you wake up with a start in the cold morning light.

Before jumping up and grabbing your sword, you try to remember the advice the Witcher has imparted on you throughout the journey. You take a moment to even your breathing, willing your heart rate to slow down. Of course, you’re no Witcher, so it doesn’t quite work the same, but it does help you gain some clarity.

In this case, you realize that you are, in fact, not imagining the sound of squishy footprints through river mud, nor are you imagining the strange gurgling sounds that immediately call to mind the morbid blue humanoids that seem to plague every body of water on the continent.

Drowners.

Upon listening for a few more moments, you calculate that there must be about three. Three drowners, after some of the monsters you’ve encountered on the road, seem like nothing. You grab you silver sword. Geralt gave it to you several days before. He said it was an old one of his old ones – though you have your suspicions based on its seemingly flawless condition and the fact that a recent contract had landed the White Wolf an overflowing purse of coin. It was also quite suspiciously the perfect size for you. You never pushed for answers, though. Geralt could be a brick wall when he wanted to be – which was most of the time.

You silently pulled on your travel leathers and slipped the scabbard over your back. Dressed like this, you felt much less like a common village wench and much more like a Witcher-Girl. You made absolutely certain that your steps were silent as you pushed open the canvas tent you’d been sleeping in, bracing yourself against the chill of the morning air.

As expected, there was no movement from any of the other tents. You’d save a whole lot of ruckus by taking care of the little hellions now.

You stealthily moved along, using trees and bushes to keep you out of the Drowners’ line of sight as you approached the river, smiling to yourself when you realized that you were indeed correct – there were three of the mutated beasts wandering around towards the shore.

You tried to picture the way Geralt moved – like fighting was some kind of complex dance – as you inched your way toward the riverbed. You were actually quite good at it, having been forced to take dancing lessons as a child back when you lived in the lap of luxury. Now, you just added a sword.

Your first strike was lightning-fast, for an ordinary human, and your pirouette and parry turned counterattack was equally as good (if you did say so yourself). You slashed the second drowner straight across the chest, from shoulder to shoulder. Blood sprays in your direction, and suddenly you feel even more like you really are some sort of Witcher-Girl.

The thing you hadn’t exactly planned for, however, was the third of the drowners. It had been hanging back farther than the rest, and you’d sort of assumed that you would have be able to give a few easy swipes of the gleaming silver and be done with it.

If only drowners weren’t so fast.

It came from nowhere, slashing out its webbed claws. They scrapped across the studded leather tunic you wore. Thankfully, they weren’t sharp enough to cut through, but it was enough to knock you back several feet. An unfortunately placed rock was the last thing you stepped on before falling onto your back, having twisted your ankle.

Fuck. This was not part of the plan.

You try to take Geralt’s advice – it should be instinct that you act on. But then again, he had years and elixirs powerful enough to kill an ordinary human to help him with that. You just had a few weeks of training.

Still, somehow, you manage to force your sword up against the drowner, which is now viciously trying to claw at your throat. You wince, realizing too late that the sword was turned the wrong way, sharp edges out – which was helpful in that the drowner backed up with a screech, blood pouring from a new nick across its shoulders, but also bad for you because the sharp silver managed to dig into your arm as well.

You try not to think about the way your sleeve is quickly dampening and hop up onto your feet, sword held out with your other hand. You parry a few times, letting the creature exhaust itself by throwing itself at you again and again, eventually losing its footing and stumbling back, as you had before.

Seeing your opportunity to attack, you rush forward aggressively, not hesitating a moment before grabbing the pommel of your silver with two hands and thrusting down, straight through the drowner’s heart. You heave a sigh of relief when it twitches only a couple times before falling completely limp, dead.

The adrenaline coursing through your veins had you pretty much blind to the fact that your arm was badly injured, and as it faded, you began to feel woozy at the loss of blood. Still trying to ignore it, you pull your sword out of the drowner corpse and walk over to the stream to rinse the blood from the blade, doing your best to ignore the fact that the water is turning redder and redder with as blood pours from your arm.

These last few weeks with the Witcher have, evidently, made you forget the fact that you are just an ordinary human, and could get hurt like one – even if you were picking up on Witcher fighting techniques at an alarming rate.

Your steps start to falter as you sheath your silver and head back to camp. As you walk, you pull your old steel dagger out of the sheath strapped to your thigh, pulling at your tunic in attempt to cut a strip of fabric to tie around your arm to staunch the bleeding.

Camp is in sight now, but it is becoming blurry as walking becomes even more difficult. The dagger slips from your hand, landing on the grass with a soft thud. You follow soon after, with a much louder thud that you don’t hear. The world is black.

* * *

You come to your senses after an immeasurable amount of time. You smell the sharp scent of herbs and astringent, and you feel a numbness in your arm, which you vaguely remember should be in pain for some reason. As you open your eyes and see the white canvas of your tent, the memory comes flooding back.

You attempt to lift your head, but you are immediately stopped by a deep, gravelly voice. “Lay still, you lost a lot of blood.”

Fuck. He was probably the one to find you, knowing his Witcher senses. He was probably furious. The camp was supposed to head out today – and here you were, holding it up.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, eyes meeting his, expecting to see them narrowed, expecting his face to be hard as stone, angry.

But it’s not. His expression is… soft. You don’t quite understand it. You’d wandered off from camp, like you weren’t supposed to, and you’d gotten yourself injured. Certainly, nobody else was happy. Geralt, ever in a hurry, should be furious.

“You wander off, kill three drowners by yourself while the rest of us blissfully sleep through it, get injured, and the first thing you do is apologize?” You’re still somewhat delirious between the loss of blood and whatever they must have given you to help with the pain, so you are almost convinced you might be hallucinating this whole thing.

But then you feel his calloused hand on your forehead, which you only then realize is sticky with sweat. He brushes a few strands of hair from your face, looking down at you with gentle eyes. “How are you feeling?” he asks.

You attempt a noncommittal shrug, but your left arm won’t listen, and you wince at the sharp pain. His free hand immediately rests on top of your hand, the pad of his thumb gently caressing your knuckles. “Best if you try not to move much,” he says seriously. “Y/N, you lost a lot of blood.”

“I couldn’t have lost that much!” Your attempt to protest is somewhat shattered by the fact that even speaking feels exhausting – which Geralt reminds you once again is because you lost so much blood.

“Baby, shh.”

His words, coupled with his hands – one stroking the side of your face and one holding your own – seem to surprise both of you equally. There had been several moments the last few weeks where you had suspected that maybe he reciprocated the feelings that you had kept bottled up tight, but you had never asked – there was no appropriate time to ask. But now…

You look up at him through sleepy eyes, willing yourself to speak again. The reality that, clearly, you’d been hurt much worse than you thought was starting to settle in.

The Witcher must have been able to hear your quickening heartbeat, or read the fear in your eyes, because the next thing he does is ease himself down next to you – taking care to lay on the side of your non-injured arm - on the blankets strewn on the floor that acted as a bed.

“You’re going to be ok,” he says softly, once again stroking your hair. You sigh, closing your eyes and leaning into his touch.

“Geralt,” you speak quietly, nervous about what his response will be. “Stay? Please?”

The Witcher responds by inching closer to you, and you instinctively nuzzle into his chest, relishing in the warmth, the feeling of his body next to yours.

“Well, I’ve been sitting here for half a day, I’m not planning on leaving now.” He says it with a wry smile, but you can see a glimmer in his eyes you hadn’t notice before as you blink up at him. “But you have to promise me you never scare me like that again, Y/N.”

Your eyes flutter closed again as you settle into his warmth, “I promise,” you mutter against his chest.

* * *

Taglist: @divaroze, @fairytale07, @jesseswartzwelder, @haru-ririchiyo, @unnamedmaincharacter, @lazilyscentedwerewolf, @geeksareunique, @evyiione, @valkyriepuff, @p3nny4urth0ught5, @moonlightreetops, @divineslipcast

#geralt x reader #geralt x reader oneshot #fluff #geralt x reader fluff #fanfiction #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #geralt fanfiction #oneshots #oneshot #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader

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thoughtfullyyoungduck · 4 years

Text

Deja vu

summary: Can you do one where the reader is bills daughter and pennywise shows up as her and scares bill and when bill comes back home her hugs his daughter really tight

The trail of blood leads up the stairs, two doors down to the left. Bill’s enthralled with following it, feels something beside himself leading him to the end point, because logically he knows this is Neibolt. Getting separated from your friends does nothing good, is proven to be deadly in Derry, but he’s enchanted by his gut feeling inching him closer and closer to the end of the track. He can’t say he walked up here with in a clear state of mind, can’t pinpoint the exact moment he decided to do this, but he’s come so far, he might as well see it through.

Like the logical part of his brain warned him for, the outcome of heeding his gut is a macabre discovery.

Bill catches wind of the foul smell, worse than the sandwich he once accidently left in his trailer and only got around to tossing out two weeks later, and it’s present so strongly Bill covers his nostrils with the sleeve of his button-up.

He hears shadowy screams slithering up from downstairs, Ben if he’s not mistaken, and the urge to run back to his friends becomes overwhelming, breaking the spell put upon him and a hair away from coming to their aide, but then he sees a yellow rainslicker on the floor, and a hand poking through it.

His first inkling is that Pennywise is imitating Georgie once again, a safe sure idea to agonizingly torture Bill, the guilt of not saying yes to Georgie’s request of going out with him cement blocks tied to his back and following him around, an annoying fly he can’t shake off. But as Bill steps in the room it’s not him, the feminine outlook of the corpse reveal as much. It’s not entirely clear who exactly it is at first, the body so decomposed and every open wound filled with maggots munching away at the flesh that had once been a living human being, deteriorating the body further.

‘Dad’, a gust of wind blows around, the words so nontangible but picked up by Bill none the less, and his eyes widen once he connects the dots closely examines the body. It’s his daughter. It’s Y/N, it’s his little girl.

The scream tearing up his vocal cords rattle his body, clattering to the floor in heap of panic and disbelieve next to Y/N’s corpse, his hand hovering over her cadaver without a single point of contact. ‘No’, He screeches, brushing a piece of hair out of her face, shrinking back when Y/N’s face misses parts of the tissues a face is normally made up off, her eye socket ripped away by enormous teeth sunk in by the soft muscles to tear it out. The outside world blurs to a white noise static, and Bill’s terrified and inconsolable, video feed of her playing around every day from her birth to her youth being erased by the gruesome sight in front of him. Bill will never be able to remember his daughter any other than the way she is right now. The yellow slicker might as well be used as a body bag, for Georgie and now you.

‘No, please. Take me, not her’, Bill begs, hiccuping weeps and repositioning her so she’s hidden away, her face slack in death in the crook of his neck, her open chest, missing her heart and parts of her lunges, squashed against his chest to stop the flow of blood. His longs feel stolen themselves, there’s nothing left to give.

Georgie getting murdered carved away parts of his heart he tried very heart over the years to replace, to keep giving and giving and giving to construct the ideal shape again, and it took a long time and a lot of energy to do so but with your birth, it all slotted itself in place. Bill had someone else to care and protect, but this? Your death was too much. Bill had nothing left to invest in a future.

The larva crawl from Y/N’s body to his, producing a slime that leaves sticky residue underneath Bill’s fingers, but he’s cleaving to her too tight to knock them off.

‘Ow Billy boy’, Pennywise singsongs over his shoulder, a menacing grin dialed up, it’s gloved hand curling around the young girls leg in threat.

‘S-s-stop’, Bill begs, broken down to his absolute core. He shifts to force Pennywise to let go, but the monster easily follows him, is an extra weight against Bill that he has to schlep along.

‘Do you want to know what she tasted like? She tasted like Georgie did. Innocent and pure, oh but not anymore. She begged for you Billy, for her daddy to save her.’

Bill shake his head solemnly, protecting her body with his own. He dotes her forehead and temple with kisses, his lips loitering around to brush against her blood stricken skin. ‘I’m sorry,’ he cries. ‘I’m s-s-so sorry.’

‘You never told her the truth did you? Never told her that you let Georgie die, and you let her die. She understood in the end. That her father was a coward.’

Pennywise tightens his grip and hauls your body over to him. Bill, who was unprepared for this, falters in his grip and allows him to do it, but scrambles after you as soon as his can no longer hold you in his arms.

‘Stop please.’

It winks, opening it’s wide array of teeth and sinks them down your legs, the protesting, piercing scream a background noise. The skin breaks effortlessly, a patch of skin Pennywise devours before the very eyes of the girls farther, massaging it’s stomach like one does after a full coursed meal.

‘Tasty’, Pennywise taunts, licking the edges of his mouth to consume the leftover bits of ichor. A battle wail erupts from Bill, fingers digging in his palm so hard incisions form, and he leaps at IT, mind fully in on the idea of strangling the brute the way he did his daughter and brother.

But, with a parting gleam, Pennywise vanishes from the scene, ducking back into it’s layer. Bill falls face first on the floor, the thunk of him hitting the floor splits open his lips, and then glances back to where your carcass posed seconds ago. It’s no longer there, and neither is the yellow slicker or the maggots that survived of your flesh.

He heaves, crying not faltering for a moment, but things in his head do begin to clear up. As far as Bill knows, Pennywise has no power or authority over any place outside of Derry, and you were not in Derry. He had talked to you the day before as you where getting ready for a sleepover, unaware of the danger you father was preparing to face. The whole thing was a trick orchestrated by Pennywise, Bill can see why, but how a thing can be so vile and evil remains shocking to him.

The doubt etched in his brain leaves him restless, are you sure she’s safe? plaguing him as he tries to stop crying on the floor. The rest of the losers find him there, frozen in place until the shake him aware and remind him of the task that needs to be completed.

-----------

Bill balls the entire way home, ignoring the stares and pointed fingers he’s the receiving end of, people recognizing him as the writer who can’t stick an ending for the life of him, because he learned from a young age that crying is crying and should be done right. His mother never bothered keeping up appearances. Not to the outside world or to the family, and Bill’s suppressed crying still made her whimper no matter how subdued Bill tried to be for her, and got him punished more then once.

At home, Audra is waiting for him, her face a variety of anger, concern, and relief that his back home in one piece. Even without the full story, Audra knew something bad was taking place. He kisses her, a quick peck to the mouth, dismissing the way her red lipstick reminds him of Pennywise eating his daughter as lunch and demands to know where Y/N is.

Audra looks taken aback as to why Bill doesn’t make any moves to talk other first, but then sees how red Bill looks, and tells him Y/N is upstairs in his study.

Bill runs up the stairs like a maniac, tripping over the top two top trudges but stabilizing himself before he stumbles, again. His office is a large, spacious room he resides in at times he’s writing, though he walks around while writing frequently too, and it’s a forbidden space for both Audra and Y/N.

That why your face falls when Bill opens the door and catches you in the act of putting back a notepad you stole from in there. You look positively stricken and spooked, scared of what your dad might say about you snuffling in his man cave when you’re not allowed in, and Bill promptly starts crying again.

You being scared of him, for any reason it might, is terrible and not something Bill ever wants to happen again.

‘Dad?’ You ask confused, standing up and walking his way. ‘Are you okay?’

He swoops in without any indication, pulling you in his arms and enclosing all around you. ‘I l-l-love you so much, you know that right?’

You nod resolutely, and Bill can’t help but think that you don’t know half of the amount he has saved for you. The longitude is impassable, the amount of weight the love carries immovable. He’s so grateful to have you in his arms, to have you be safe and secure, and with parents who love and support you. He smacks a kiss on the top of your head, breathing in the scent of your shampoo on the contrary of the stench of a rotting body and allows himself to cry and cry and cry. At some point, you join in, sad that your father is sad and mulling over what might make him feel happier.

‘You’ll tell me anything that’s b-b-bothering you right?’ He asks after five minutes of utter silence, roughing your hair out of place with a watery laugh.

‘Like what?’

‘Everything, anything. Bullies, problems at school, if I’m doing something wrong.’ Bill retreats backwards but keep you close enough that you’re still in each other’s arms. ‘You know you can t-t-tell me if it’s something I’m doing right? I don’t ever want you to think you h-h-have to hide from me.’

‘I don’t, and you’re not doing anything wrong dad. I love you.’

‘I love you too, and I’ll let nothing ever, ever hurt you.’

#bill denbrough #bill denbrough imagines #bill denbrough as a dad #bill x reader #bill denbrough x daughter reader #my writing #the loser club imagines #adult losers #bill denbrough x reader #bill denbrough as a father

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maybeimamuppet · 3 years

Text

the game is afoot

WHATS POPPING MY LITTLE MUPPETS WERE BACK YEEHA

ok serious time. there's been a murder! if you'd like to solve it you can, you'll have all the clues you need (and a few you don't!) let me know if you got it right in the replies!! if you don't want to solve along, just read like normal and enjoy a cute little victorian gay fit with a dash of murder.

also, I DID NOT COME UP WITH THIS CASE AND I OWN NO PART OF IT. I'm a whole idiot and not clever enough to come up with a sherlock level case on my own. so, people who made sherlock holmes: crimes and punishments, please do not sue me. i am a broke college dropout with no money. also, if you know the case, please don't spoil it for anyone else!

tw for murder and associated things (blood, mild gore, etc), internalized period typical homophobia, and drug mentions. if i missed any, please let me know!

otherwise, welcome back!!

---------

“Hullo!” Cady chirps as she enters the door to 221B Baker Street, not noticing the state her dear companion is in on the sofa. She looks up after hanging her coat on the rack to find her pale and perspiring, and hears a weak groan. “Good heavens, Janis!” Cady drops her things and runs over to her partner’s side. “Whatever happened to you?”

“I feel… deathly,” Janis groans.

“And you look it,” Cady tuts, checking her dilated pupils and feeling her temperature. “Don’t tell me you’ve returned to your old habits.” Janis allows Cady to check her pulse. It’s weak, far slower than it should be. “Your pulse is weak and dropping, we-we need to get you to the hospital straight away. You are dying.”

“The antidote,” Janis moans, pointing weakly to the table nearby. “Give it to me.”

“Antidote?” Cady asks. “You mean that you have been poisoned?! Don’t tell me you did this to yourself. Here, drink it all.”

“I was compelled to.” Janis takes the small bottle and downs the whole thing in one go. Just then, Mrs. Norbury comes into the room to announce the arrival of Inspector Hubbard.

“Oh, Ms. Sarkisian is unable to see anyone at the moment, she is unwell,” Cady says apologetically.

Janis suddenly pops upright behind her, seeming in perfect health. “Ah, Inspector. What is it this time?”

“A case for you, Ms. Sarkisian,” Damian says. “We’ve brought in two young bankers from the city. Sons of lords, members of the chamber, et cetera. They were found stranded in a rowing boat drifting down the Thames.”

“A romantic escapade gone awry,” Janis says boredly, turning around to examine her nails.

“What? Well-it’s true they were both in the buff, but…” Damian stutters. Janis simply raises an eyebrow at him and gestures between the both of them. He chuckles and nods. “I have another that might be more to your liking. Sir Rodney Bentcliffe has been murdered at the Roman Baths. And there’s no sign of a weapon.”

Janis turns to him again, eyes wide with delight. “I shall meet you there shortly. Are you coming, Heron?”

“I feel I must,” Cady tuts. “But I’ll have you know I’m against you going out, as your doctor and your friend.”

Janis boldly cups her face and kisses her forehead, making Cady blush. “I am fine, Cady. Now come on, grab your hat!”

—————

Cady looks around in apparent awe at the room they find themselves in. Janis does have to admit it is beautifully extravagant, decorated with large marble statues and a rather tasteful fountain in the center. “My, how beautiful!”

“With a dreadful murder,” Inspector Hubbard pipes up, casually approaching them. “The body is still in the steam room. We haven’t touched a thing, per your usual instructions.”

“Excellent,” Janis says. There’s a gleam in her eye as she continues, “Then let us begin. Were you able to identify the men who were with him?”

“Ah, yes! Sir Gregory Pitkin, the manager of the baths; Garrow, a lad from the city council; and Blinkhorn, an archaeologist,” Damian informs her. “I am of the opinion that it’s Garrow. He doesn’t seem right in the head.”

“We shall see,” Janis hums. “You found no murder weapon?”

“No, that’s why you were sent for. The victim and all three witnesses were locked in at the time of the murder, and remained so until we arrived. We had to pick the lock to enter!”

“Was anyone else here?”

“Yes, a Mr. Phillips, at the desk there. He called the police, and will be able to give you more details.”

“My thanks, Mr. Hubbard,” Janis says jokingly. Damian tips his hat in response.

“Anytime.”

Janis makes her way over to the desk then, and Cady follows once she realizes her companion is no longer by her side.

“Good day to you, my name is Janis Sarkisian and this is my friend and colleague Doctor Heron. Would you be so kind as to answer our questions?” Janis says with what Cady knows to be faux-politeness. At least people seem to buy it.

“Ah, certainly ma’am,” the man says, a hint of anxiety in his tone. Cady watches in slight awe as Janis’ eyes track up and down the man before them and she seems to learn several key details about him in just a few seconds. It never gets old, watching her friend at work.

“Please tell us the chain of events from the start of your day,” Janis asks to start with once her observation is complete. “Anything you remember. The slightest detail may be of utmost importance.”

“Very well, miss. I came in this morning at six-thirty to prepare the baths,” Phillips says. “I did my usual tasks, preparing towels and cleaning. The brazier was still burning.”

“Pardon? There was a fire burning all night?” Cady asks in slight worry.

“Yes, Sir Gregory ordered me to light the brazier yesterday,” Phillips explains. “It takes some time until the room is fully heated.”

“Ah,” Cady says with a nod, gesturing for him to continue.

“The gentlemen had a meeting at nine o’ clock this morning. I wanted it to be perfect,” Phillips says. “They had been in the steam room for… twenty minutes, when I suddenly heard shouting. I ran to the door, but it was locked. I couldn’t open it. So I ran to the street to call for the police. One constable came, then others, and they picked the lock. Then the Inspector came and informed us nothing should be touched.”

“And did you receive any other visitors this morning?” Janis asks, bouncing once on the balls of her feet as she scans the room.

“Nobody, until these men arrived. Sir Gregory was the first,” the man says. “Then while we were discussing work details, Sir Rodney and Mr. Blinkhorn arrived together. Mr. Garrow followed.”

“And then?”

“I waited until they had all entered the steam room, then I returned to the hall. The changing room door was open, so I should hear if they needed anything.”

“You would have heard if someone had entered or left the steam room?” Janis asks.

“Certainly, ma’am. The doors make a lot of noise,” Phillips says. One of the witnesses must be the murderer, then.

“Thank you, my good man,” Janis says, leading Cady off toward the steam room.

The changing room precedes it, a large rectangular room with marble benches and shelves to hold personal items. Three sets of neatly folded clothing sit on the benches. Janis scans them quickly and apparently doesn’t notice anything of interest, apart from the fact that one set seems rather more expensive than the others.

What does catch her eye is a bottle of champagne, unopened and in a bucket of ice to keep chilled. Clearly intended to be enjoyed after the session in the baths.

They enter the actual sauna room then. A constable guards the only door, and three men stand clad only in white towels at the other end near the brazier. Janis looks delighted as she heads to inspect the body first. Cady follows quickly.

“Good lord,” Cady breathes. “How dreadful.”

Sir Rodney lies sprawled against the marble bench, arms spread as he sits in a remarkably large pool of his own blood. Cady quickly learns the source, his left eye. Thin but bright red blood tracks down his face and to the floor around him.

“Yes, a death with a particularly… Roman flair,” Janis hums interestedly.

“Like the one you almost had an hour ago?”

“Come now, let us forget about that,” Janis says.

Cady watches as her companion crouches down to examine everything she can.

“The wound should not have bled so profusely,” Janis hums to herself, dashing around on her knees so as not to leave footprints and taint the scene. Cady observes as she inspects his nails and takes an earth sample from beneath them, and looks at the ring marks on his finger.

“Death would’ve been an hour ago at most,” Cady says when she’s allowed to inspect the corpse herself, judging by the temperature of the extremities and degree of rigor mortis. “And would’ve been instantaneous. A vile act of savagery.”

“Delightful,” Janis says, sounding genuinely excited. “Wait, don’t move!”

Cady freezes as Janis calls to her loudly, and watches as she bends to remove a small gold key from the pool of blood next to the corpse. Cady stands from the body once it’s been retrieved and turns to her colleague.

“We don’t have many leads here,” Cady says.

“What concerns me is that we have yet to find the murder weapon,” Janis murmurs, clicking her tongue against her teeth. “For now, we shan’t worry. Constable!”

“Yes, Ms. Sarkisian?” The constable guarding the door asks.

“Please have the body removed without disturbing anything else in the room,” Janis asks politely. A few more constables enter and gently remove the body, leaving only the pool of blood behind as evidence of a crime. Janis takes a small sample to be studied for more clues, then stands to begin assessing the rest of the room.

“Sarkisian,” Cady murmurs quietly, pointing to the man standing closest to the brazier. There’s a large, bloody handprint on his towel. He clearly discovered the body, but did he put it there?

“Hm,” Janis hums disinterestedly, turning a switch on the wall. Steam suddenly floods the room, making it difficult to see more than a foot or so away. Janis quickly flips it back off and waits for the steam to clear. “Interesting.”

She heads to the brazier then, assessing the embers as close as she can. A pair of spectacles rests on the edge, one lens cracked from the heat. Cady can tell from the thick glass that they are for myopia, otherwise known as the wearer being nearsighted.

Janis attempts to get closer, but the heat is too much. Some melted metal rests in the center. “Heron, please remind me to find a tool to remove this metal so that I may study it.”

“Yes, Sarkisian,” Cady says quietly, marking it down in her notebook. She wishes she could do as Janis does and store all the important information in her mind. But her notebook has come in handy more than once.

Cady dashes after Janis as she exits the steam room and is quickly approached by Inspector Hubbard, who asks if she has any objections to having the suspects taken to Scotland Yard. Janis says she has none, and the Inspector moves to he steam room to gather the men.

Janis heads to speak to Mr. Phillips once more to inquire about the key she found. “Mr. Phillips, how many people have keys to the steam room?”

“We have just the one, for now,” the man replies, standing from his desk to speak with them once again. “Sir Gregory gave it to me.”

“So, you opened the steam room this morning,” Janis says rather abruptly. “What happened afterwards?”

“I put the key in my desk, but when they called it had disappeared,” Phillips says, looking to his feet. “I-I don’t know where it is.”

“Did you leave at any point, or receive any visitors?” Janis continues.

“No, miss, I did not,” Phillips says. Even Cady can tell he’s lying.

Janis points to a bit of paper sticking out of his pocket. Cady notices it to be a sent telegram upon looking closer. “You are not telling the truth. You did leave your work this morning. You went to the post office to dispatch a telegram at around seven-thirty.”

“But-how could you-“ Phillips stutters. Janis smirks slightly.

“The telegram was for someone in Manchester.”

“But it’s imposs-“ Phillips stumbles again. Janis just raises an eyebrow, and he crumbles. “I shall tell you everything. My sister wrote to me yesterday, and she needed a reply. Our mother is unwell. I left the baths at around seven-twenty to tell her to pawn my old school uniform to pay for the medication. I was away for twenty minutes, and I closed the baths on my way out.”

“Did you check to see if the key was still in your desk when you returned?” Janis asks.

“N-no, ma’am,” the man stutters. “Please, don’t tell anyone about this. Sir Gregory would sack me. I need this job.”

“I see,” Janis says, slightly coldly. “Do you happen to know who left the bottle of champagne on ice in the changing room?”

“Champagne? No,” Phillips responds, seeming to come back to himself slightly. “Do you think that it’s important?”

“We shall see,” Janis hums. “Good day to you.”

Janis then heads to a door opposite the entrance to the steam room, marked ‘frigidarium’. The cold room. Just inside the door to the right is a shoddy door, with a plaque labeled ‘Sir Rodney Bentcliffe’ just outside.

“This must be his workshop,” Janis hums, pushing the door open and stepping inside. It seems rather hastily put together, temporary tables set up to hold small archaeological finds, and shelves with larger items line the far wall.

“Sarkisian, I would like to examine the blood again, if I may,” Cady asks. Janis waves her off as she takes a pair of tongs from a table and leafs through a few documents on the desk.

Janis examines a large, curved metal plate, with a carving of a bridge etched into it. A short document rests on top explaining that it is believed to be part of a larger, unknown structure. Janis leaves it for now and heads further down the corridor to the frigidarium. She’s halted in her tracks by a thunderous rumbling. She blinks and is suddenly on her behind, a large wall of rocks and debris blocking her path down. She shakes herself off and coughs a bit.

“Janis! Are you alright?!” Cady yells, barreling down towards her. She skids to a halt when she sees Janis perfectly fine, if a little dusty, sitting before her. “Oh, thank heavens!”

Janis begrudgingly allows Cady to assess her for injuries, and her eyes fly open when Cady suddenly rests a gentle hand on her cheek and locks their lips together. This is new.

Unfortunately it doesn’t last, as Cady seems to realize what she’s done and pulls back with a gasp, scrambling away and pressing her back against the far wall. “I-I-I-“

“It’s quite alright,” Janis says soothingly. She gently pulls herself back to her feet and takes a small step forward, but Cady shakes her head frantically and stops her in her tracks. “Heron, really. It’s absolutely fine.”

“I-I’ll see you back at Baker Street,” Cady says hastily. Before Janis can say anything she’s running back down the corridor and outside, coattails trailing behind her.

“What happened with her?” Damian asks. Janis just shakes her head and dusts off her coat. “Are you alright?”

“Bit dusty,” Janis tuts. “Is there another way ‘round this?”

“Not that we’ve found,” Inspector Hubbard says. “If it becomes necessary we can remove the debris for you. I’m off to the Yard, would you care to accompany me?”

“Not just yet, I’ll likely be there tomorrow afternoon,” Janis replies, following him to the exit.

“Very well. Good day to you, Sarkisian.”

“Same to you, my good man,” Janis chuckles. She grabs the metal from the brazier in the steam room with the tongs and follows him out the doors once it’s cool enough to handle.

Janis hops out of the cab when it arrives at Baker Street, quickly paying and pacing off to the flat. Her hand is on the doorknob before she freezes and turns around to cross the street.

“Wiggins,” she calls when she notices it’s him. A watch for her secret police division is always there, but Wiggins is her personal favorite.

“‘Ello Ms. Sarkisian,” Wiggins calls back, resting down a toy cart he seems to be repairing. “What can I do for ya?”

“There’ll be two guineas in it for you if someone can track down Heron,” Janis says. “Don’t let her see you, just make sure she’s alright and let me know where she is.”

“Easy! I won’t let you down, miss,” Wiggins says, saluting before dashing off down the road. Janis grins affectionately and heads back upstairs.

——

Janis is too busy worrying for her companion to get any real work done, so she decides to reorganize her mind palace for a while. Cady’s wing could use some decorating.

After a few hours, a great cacophony of noise suddenly echoes downstairs, followed by the calls of Mrs. Norbury. Whoever it is wipes their shoes on the mat briefly before heading upstairs. She can tell by the polite gesture and the energetic step that Wiggins has made a return.

“We found Doctor Heron, miss!” He calls.

“Excellent. How was she?” Janis asks, sitting up before heading over to him.

“She didn’t seem very well, to be truthful, Ms. Sarkisian,” Wiggins says. “She’s in the park. But she ain’t going anywhere, just pacing about and cryin’.”

“Hmm,” Janis hums sadly. “Not much I can do about that, then. Here’s your payment.”

Wiggins skillfully catches the coins she tosses his way. “At your service, miss.”

Janis is deep in thought once more by the time he leaves.

————-

Cady enters the flat several hours later, finding Janis in her usual pose. Flat on her back on the sofa, hands pressed together in the praying position just underneath her nose. Unusually, she pops an eye open and sits upright when she hears Cady enter.

“Hello,” Janis says quietly. Cady can tell she sees right through her put-together facade. Of course. When doesn’t she? “Are you well?”

“Fine,” Cady whispers in agreement. She sheepishly makes her way over and hands Janis a pile of papers. “Here.”

Janis flicks through them. “Our rent agreement?” Cady nods. “Whatever for?”

“So I can move out,” Cady murmurs. “You won’t have to see me again, I’ll-I’ll handle it all.”

Janis snaps her head up to look at her, tossing the papers aside. “Why do you wish to leave?”

“You know what I am, Janis. You know how-how I feel about you,” Cady whimpers. “It’s unnatural. Why would you want to associate with me now?”

Janis gently approaches her dear friend. “You are missing a key element of the narrative, my dear Heron.”

Cady looks both baffled and terrified as Janis gradually gets closer. “And-and what would that be?”

“How I feel for you,” Janis purrs gently, wrapping an arm around Cady’s waist and resting her forehead against the redhead’s. “I admit I’ve grown rather fond of you over the years of our companionship.”

“You have?”

Janis chuckles quietly. “I have indeed. I’ve always thought matters of the heart trivial, a weakness. Waste of valuable brain power. But you’ve managed to work your way in regardless. And I find myself not wishing to attempt to remove you.”

“Oh,” Cady hums, flushing a spectacular shade of pink. “How-how long?”

“I couldn’t say exactly,” Janis says quietly, staring into the brilliant blue of Cady’s eyes. “But a very long time. How long for you?”

Cady grins up at her slightly. “Since the day we met.”

“Really?” Janis laughs. “After all that. I’m surprised.”

——

“Kenya or Tanzania?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Are you from Kenya or Tanzania?” Janis repeats.

“I-Kenya,” Cady stutters. “How did you-“

Janis rolls her eyes haughtily, seemingly having been through similar conversations before. “Your skin bears a lingering tan that implies you grew up near the equator. Your accent is African, and you have a large scar along your collarbone that could only have been created by a creature with large claws, most likely a lion or a tiger. Tigers live mainly around India, not Africa, so it was most probably a lion. The largest lion populations in Africa near the equator are in Kenya and Tanzania.”

“Incredible,” Cady breathes. Janis chuckles under her breath and raises a perfectly arched eyebrow.

“That’s not what people normally say.”

“What do they normally say?” Cady asks curiously.

“Piss off,” Janis laughs.

—-

“You’ve been invaluable to me,” Janis murmurs. “I daren’t imagine life without you.”

“I love you,” Cady whispers back.

“And I love you,” Janis says. “May I-“

“Kiss me,” Cady demands. Janis happily obliges, resting a gently callused hand on her jaw and brushing their lips together. Cady gives a quietly delighted sigh and threads her arms around Janis’ neck, tilting her head for a better angle. Janis marvels in how soft her lips are. Maybe Cady will let her experiment on them.

Cady gasps quietly as Janis sucks her bottom lip between her own and gives a gentle nibble, allowing Janis to deepen their kiss and brush their tongues together. The soft groan Cady allows to escape nearly makes Janis’ knees buckle.

They both look a bit dizzy and disheveled when they have to break apart for breath. Cady gives the widest smile Janis has ever seen, and squeals in surprise when Janis scoops her up in retaliation. She has remarkable upper body strength for her build.

“You have no idea how precious you are to me,” Janis whispers, carrying her over and resting her down on her experiment table so their eye levels are just about even. Cady tries desperately not to think about the jar of-are those eyeballs?!- that Janis brushes away to make room for her. “My conductor of light.”

“Your what?” Cady asks lovingly, stroking a hand through Janis’ hair and gently scratching at the base of her scalp.

“‘It may be that you are not yourself luminous, but that you are a conductor of light,’” Janis recites. “I read that somewhere. Some people without possessing a spectacular amount of genius have a remarkable ability to stimulate it.”

“Cheers,” Cady grumbles.

“Not in a bad way, my darling,” Janis amends. “You give me a… lens, so to speak. To shine my light through, give it a purpose. Conduct it. A light on its own has no point. The sun would be near useless without the atmosphere.”

“Oh.” Cady says. “I suppose that does make me sound useful.”

“You’re more than useful, dearest. You’re invaluable. Irreplaceable.”

“Yours,” Cady concludes for her. “Forever.”

“Does it bother you that the world can never know of us?” Janis asks quietly, nuzzling her nose against Cady’s.

“My world already does,” Cady hums, holding Janis’ face between her hands gently and staring meaningfully into her warm brown eyes. “Nothing matters to me but you.”

“I should hope your patients matter to you,” Janis teases. “Else we may get some strongly worded letters arriving soon.”

“You know what I mean,” Cady says, rolling her eyes. “Would you stay with me tonight?”

“Always,” Janis purrs, lifting her off the table and carrying her to a bedroom. She can’t help but notice that they seem to fit together perfectly when she tips Cady down into the bed and is immediately grabbed and held close. Like a puzzle.

—-

Janis yawns and stretches when she wakes the next morning, rather shocked to find that she apparently slept for at least a few hours. She can’t remember the last time she actually drifted off so easily.

She’s sprawled on her back, with Cady pressed against her side and her face tucked into Janis’ neck. Cady snuffles discontentedly when Janis gently kisses her forehead and removes herself, tucking her in a little tighter with the warm wool blankets.

Cady comes padding out of the room a full half-hour after Janis finishes her small breakfast, still in her nightgown. Janis grins slightly when she sees that she’s decided to add Janis’ robe and slippers to her little morning ensemble.

“Good morning,” Janis hums when Cady presses herself to her back as Janis looks out the window over Baker Street. “You look cozy.”

Cady just gives a quiet hum, not up to speaking quite so soon after waking up. Janis turns around to hold her, and Cady sighs contently as she’s held against her love. Janis rests her chin on top of Cady’s still unbrushed hair and closes her eyes.

“Did last night truly happen?” Cady whispers, muffled by Janis’ warm skin.

“I believe so,” Janis whispers back.

“Prove to me I didn’t dream it,” Cady begs quietly. “Please.”

“Shh,” Janis calms before cupping her face and kissing her sweetly. She feels Cady’s relieved sigh puff gently against her cheek. “Good morning, darling.”

“Good morning, my love,” Cady beams back.

“Mrs. Norbury made your breakfast,” Janis murmurs after a long moment. “Should still be warm.”

“Have you eaten?” Cady asks knowingly, pulling back to look into Janis’ eyes.

“Yes,” Janis chuckles. “Not enough for your tastes, I know, but I have eaten.”

“Good,” Cady chirps. “I’ll get some calories in you yet. Where are you off to today?”

“Nowhere for the morning, I have some experiments to conduct here,” Janis replies.

“Anything I can assist with?” Cady asks politely.

“It’s nothing particularly interesting, just a few analyses on some evidence,” Janis replies. “I’ll be off to interrogate the suspects this afternoon, however, you can accompany me then if you wish to.”

Cady nods, allowing Janis to start her work. She begins with the sample of earth taken from beneath one of Sir Rodney’s fingernails. She finds it to contain pyrite, selenite, and white clay particles. Based on the composition, Janis deduces it is white clay, which is found only around the city of St. Albans.

Now to the blood sample. Under the microscope, Janis is able to observe that it’s still very liquid, and has not coagulated well. She drops a few drops of hydrogen peroxide onto the sample, which allows her to see that the blood has been heavily diluted with water.

All that’s left is the metal she discovered in the brazier. Janis believes it to be silver. A simple test is all that’s needed. Cady naively provides her with a silver penny. Janis drops a small amount of acid onto both the coin and the metal sample, and observes the same reaction on both. The result is the same red stain. The metal is, indeed, silver.

—————

Janis heads to the evidence room immediately upon arriving at Scotland Yard. Four evidence drawers await her on the table. Three suspects, one victim.

She begins with the victim’s belongings. Janis finds and sneakily pockets a hand drawn map, and closely observes an ancient coin, and a gold ring etched with an Egyptian symbol, which has been repaired by an amateur with silver. All that’s left is a small notebook.

“Heron, my dear, please fetch me a pencil and prevent anyone from entering the room,” Janis says, upon observing the last pages to have been torn out.

“Er… okay,” Cady says, handing over her own pencil and turning to guard the door. Janis sneakily removes Cady’s handkerchief from her pocket as well.

Just as Janis has finished carefully rubbing the pencil over the pages and smudging them with the handkerchief, a constable enters past Cady to inform them that the autopsy has been completed.

“Ms. Sarkisian, the body has been- but, tampering with the evidence!” He says in shock.

“‘Today, I almost found it. This date will go down in history,’” Janis reads from the book. “Sir Rodney was on the brink of an incredible discovery. Simple tricks, nothing terrific. I could only save the final words, however. The rest is lost.”

“Perhaps the autopsy can give us more information,” Cady says, skimming through the coroner’s report.

“I am not sure that I can allow you to inspect the body now,” the constable says anxiously.

“And I am sure that you must,” Janis hums disinterestedly, moving to the next drawer of effects. Cady waves him along and joins her partner at the table. The next drawer is Percival Blinkhorn’s, and contains nothing but a pencil and a letter from Sir Pitkin urging him to hurry his archaeological work. Rather threatening.

Garrow’s belongings are next, and contain only the bloody towel from the steam room and a small bottle of herbs. “Do you know what this is, my darling?”

“It looks to be St. John’s wort flower,” Cady says, flushing slightly at the pet name. “We use it commonly as a treatment for melancholia, but an incorrect dosage could cause a rash, or even hallucinations if especially poorly used.”

“Hm,” Janis hums, pocketing the phial as well. The last drawer is Sir Gregory Pitkin’s, and is apparently of the least importance to her. An embroidered handkerchief, a very expensive fountain pen with solid gold trim, and a business card.

Cady follows Janis down to the morgue then, to inspect the body in more detail. Janis carefully peels back the sheet to the dead man’s waist, and looks to Cady for details.

“Er…” Cady stutters, flipping quickly to the correct page. “Ah. No issues with the heart or lungs except traces of fungus, most likely contracted during his work in Egyptian tombs. No stomach or liver disease, if we are to accept that he was sixty three years of age and an occasional drinker.”

Janis carefully flips the body over, and observes bruising in lines around his shoulders and waist, caused by a rope. “He was descending.”

“Where?”

“That remains to be seen,” Janis says, turning him back over and observing his face.

“A strange wound, resulting in instantaneous death,” Cady explains. “Inflicted by a curved knife.”

“Curved,” Janis murmurs under her breath. “Well, my dear, I think we’ve seen all we can, do you wish to interrogate the suspects with me?”

Cady carefully washes her hands in the sink next to Janis. “Are they particularly dangerous, would you say?”

“I would think not,” Janis replies. “But then again, one can never know.”

“I suppose,” Cady says nervously, following her back up the stairs. “But be careful.”

“I always am,” Janis replies, taking her hand to help her back into the corridor. The constable unlocks the metal door for them and escorts the first suspect to the interrogation room. Janis heads over to the small wooden table in the middle and sits across from Sir Gregory Pitkin. Cady leans against the cold stone wall and attempts to look tough.

“Good day to you, Sir Gregory, I am Janis Sarkisian. I am aiding the police with the investigation of the murder that took place yesterday morning. Would you be willing to answer a few questions?”

Even Cady can tell that Sir Gregory is on edge, looking at them with a haughty air of disdain. He slams a hand on the table and demands, “Tell me, Ms. Sarkisian, will I have to stay here much longer?”

Janis decidedly ignores him and rests her hands on the table. “You are the manager of the baths, yes?”

“Yes. I wanted to restore the ruins. My goal is to open the baths to the public,” Pitkin says, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back casually in the rickety wooden chair. “Living archaeology can be very profitable. Although now, I am not so sure.”

“I see,” Janis hums interestedly. “And when did you wish to begin your restoration?”

“When the archaeological researches are over, I am free to begin, it is the usual process,” Pitkin says loudly and haughtily, looking at Janis like she’s the scum of the earth. Janis simply raises an eyebrow before continuing.

“And what was the state of your relationship with Sir Rodney?”

“I’ll say we were not particularly close. He had an unpleasant temperament. Suspicious, authoritarian, unkind.” Pitkin spits. Cady thinks it sounds rather more like he’s describing himself.

“Was he obstructive in any way?” Janis asks. Pitkin seems to deflate slightly.

“Not in the slightest,” he admits. “Everything he did led us to greater success.”

Janis tuts slightly to herself before moving the discussion along. “Had Sir Rodney shown any odd behavior recently?”

“Now, see, I’m not a particularly suspicious sort,” Pitkin says. “But I think that he had professional interests elsewhere that he did not wish for us to know.”

“Why should you think that? Where?” Janis asks interestedly. Maybe they’re finally getting somewhere.

“I have no idea,” Pitkin replies with a shrug. Janis huffs slightly. “It’s not my business, after all.”

“How was work at the baths progressing before the arrival of Sir Rodney?” Janis asks, closing another lead in her mind.

“Rather slowly, I would say,” Pitkin replies airily. Janis pulls out a copy of the letter she had found with Blinkhorn’s personal effects.

“Then would you explain this letter? You expressed a desire to call off the work being done,” Janis says coyly.

“It’s all that damned Blinkhorn,” Pitkin spits. “Digging away merrily with little care and finding nothing of any value.”

“But Sir Rodney’s arrival changed your mind?”

“His work was extremely promising, and good for publicity,” the man explains. “So yes, I changed my mind.”

“Hm,” Janis hums kindly. “Would you please explain to me the events of yesterday morning?”

“It was a test, that morning, and a success,” Pitkin replies. “The steam was working well. But then, of course, that terrible murder.”

“And what did you witness?”

“The steam was too thick to see anything,” Pitkin says. “Ask that Garrow, he found the body first.”

“Ah, Garrow. Are you aware that Mr. Garrow is under a form of medication?” Janis asks.

“No,” Pitkin replies. “But I never liked that parasite.”

“Do you believe him to be capable of murder?”

“He did have blood on him,” Pitkin says. “Does that make him a murderer?”

“I shall ask the questions here. Do you know where the silver in the steam room brazier came from?” Janis huffs.

“Silver? No,” the man says with a hint of confusion.

“Did you bring champagne to the baths with you?”

“Absolutely not. Sir Rodney did, I think,” Pitkin replies.

“That’s all I have for you for now, good day to you,” Janis says politely, asking the constable to exchange him for the next suspect.

“Well, he was a pompous arse,” Cady huffs from her spot. Janis laughs and stands from her chair to stretch her legs.

“Agreed,” Janis chuckles. “I cannot say I haven’t been worse, but he is definitely one of the more… unique specimens I’ve interrogated. What are you thinking?”

“I think it’s either him or Garrow,” Cady replies. “Pitkin seems to me to be hiding something, and if the medication is anything to go by Garrow is clearly under some sort of duress.”

“Hm,” Janis hums. “Time will tell.”

The next man is brought in then. Janis waits for him to be seated and cuffed to the table, and apparently decides to remain standing for this one. Cady returns to her position and watches Janis assess the new suspect. His eyes are clear and focused, attentive. And Cady can tell from his clothes that he is most definitely not a man of wealth.

Janis gives her usual introductions, and learns that this man is Percival Blinkhorn.

“What is your occupation, Mr. Blinkhorn?” Janis asks almost kindly, as if they’re acquaintances simply getting to know one another.

“I am an archaeologist, I specialize in the Roman period,” Blinkhorn responds eagerly. His voice is clear, and remarkably soothing.

“Hmm,” Janis hums, sounding interested. “Can you tell me more about the baths?”

“Well, we were hoping to retrieve a great many interesting artifacts from the site, and to list any items of value before their eventual restoration and exhibition.”

“And has it proven successful?” Janis asks.

“It has, thanks to Sir Rodney,” Blinkhorn says. Cady detects a hint of melancholy in his tone.

“And what was your relationship like with him?” Janis asks.

“I couldn’t say that he was a kind man,” Blinkhorn replies. “But he was a talented archaeologist. I felt a great admiration for him.”

“Was this your first collaboration with him?”

“No, I had met Sir Rodney in Egypt, briefly,” the man says. “I shared my researches with him. Surprisingly, they convinced him to come here. He arrived only a couple of months ago.”

“Surprisingly?” Janis asks, leaning casually against the table.

“Well, Sir Rodney is-was, oh god- a cold man, and very secretive,” Blinkhorn says, looking at his lap. “But I learned a great deal from him in a short time. I cannot believe that he is dead…”

“Could you tell me what you saw yesterday?”

“We all entered the steam room and went to sit down,” the man replies. “The steam was particularly dense, and I couldn’t see anything much further after that. I just heard Garrow shouting. We all ran for the door and bumped into one another. I was very alarmed by this point.”

“What did you do?”

“Well, the door was stuck, and with all the steam it was quite frightening. I was barely able to see my own feet,” Blinkhorn says anxiously. “Garrow was covered in blood.”

“Do you believe that he killed Sir Rodney?” Janis asks. She does have to admit that much evidence seems to point his way.

“Oh, no,” Blinkhorn says quickly. “Garrow could not harm a fly.”

“Hm,” Janis replies. That certainly throws a small wrench in things. “Can you recall any recent behavior from Sir Rodney that would now strike you as strange?”

“Well, we had a small argument yesterday,” Blinkhorn admits.

“Is that all?” Janis asks, leaning closer to his face. It’s almost intimidating to Cady. And she’s not even nearby.

“No,” Blinkhorn says sheepishly. “Sir Rodney informed me that he was to attend the London Archaeological Congress with me. Then he rather aggressively advised me of the opposite.”

Janis nods slightly. “And how well were your researches progressing before the arrival of Sir Rodney?”

“Quite well, I would say,” Blinkhorn replies.

“Really?” Janis asks, raising an eyebrow as she catches the man in a lie. “This letter reveals that Sir Gregory was prepared to put a stop to your work at the baths.”

“Er… yes,” Blinkhorn stumbles, realizing Janis has him. “But since the arrival of Sir Rodney he had calmed down, allowed us to work. I’m not sure what they agreed on.”

“Hmm,” Janis replies casually, sitting on the corner of the table. “And what will happen now that he is dead?”

“Oh… I haven’t thought about that,” Blinkhorn replies quietly. He suddenly perks up a bit and continues, “But if it is needed I will fight to defend Sir Rodney’s expectations.”

“How admirable,” Janis replies boredly. “We discovered some melted silver in the brazier, can you explain its presence?”

“No, silver, you say?” Blinkhorn says curiously. “No, I don’t know how it got there.”

Janis nods, appearing to file the information away. She reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out Sir Rodney’s ring. “Do you recognize this?”

“Why, certainly. It is the famous Assouan ring,” Blinkhorn says, seeming a bit more chipper. “Sir Rodney brought it back from his last campaign in Egypt.”

“He kept it for himself?” Janis asks. From what she’s heard so far, Sir Rodney does seem the type.

“Sir Rodney has-had- his own… particular ideals of archaeology,” Blinkhorn explains.

“Mm,” Janis hums. She folds her hands behind herself and walks to the other side of the table. “What can you tell me about Garrow?”

“He always looks so sad,” Blinkhorn says. “And… he has been acting strangely, lately. He complains of visions and voices. I will keep an eye on him, I am worried.”

“Hm. And did you place the bottle of champagne in the changing room?”

“No, I did not.”

“I thank you, my good man,” Janis says, rubbing her temples as Blinkhorn is exchanged for Garrow, the final suspect. It’s quickly obvious to both Janis and Cady that Garrow is not well.

He takes his seat in the rickety wooden chair and folds his hands beneath the table, wringing his fingers. His eyes dart around the room nervously and he’s rocking himself back and forth slightly. He doesn’t seem to notice Janis speaking as she introduces herself and asks him to answer their questions.

“Ah, uh… um-“ he stutters when he finally looks up. His eyes are sunken slightly, and he’s covered in sweat. “Good day. I-I am Tristram Garrow.”

Janis nods almost comfortingly. “And what is your occupation, Mr. Garrow?”

“I-I-I am a councilor at the district chamber,” Garrow replies, still rocking slightly.

“Then what were you doing at the baths?”

“Well… I-I follow the researches,” Garrow says. “I’m… interested in-in archaeology.”

“You ‘follow’ them?” Janis asks.

“Yes. So many things happened, and-and we need to know,” Garrow replies. “Or-or perhaps it’s better hidden.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Nothing, I-I meant nothing by that, I apologize.”

Janis hums under her breath before continuing the interrogation. “What was your experience working with Sir Rodney?”

“Oh, it was like-like working with a genius,” Garrow replies. “He was… a hard man, but then, this is a hard world. Always people who want to steal from you. And-and he trusted me… but-oh-“

“Are you feeling quite well?” Janis asks in concern as the man before her suddenly beings rocking much more violently and his volume escalates.

“I’m sorry-his eye,” Garrow says frantically. “I remember-“

“Do you need anything?” Janis asks, already preparing to reach for the phial of his medication in her pocket. She wants to get as much out of him as she can before giving it to him, but she will if it becomes necessary.

“I-I feel bad, I can hear-“ Garrow says, looking around him to either side, appearing to see something that Cady and Janis can’t. “No-no. Nothing, I feel better now. My apologies.”

Janis gives him another moment to gather himself before she continues. “Please tell me what you can recall seeing yesterday.”

“The-the room was so hot, I had to remove my glasses,” the man begins much more quietly. So the myopic spectacles are his. “I was not feeling very well in there.”

“And you found the body?”

“I saw the-the knife, you know,” Garrow says, growing frantic again. “Flying through the air! And the blood, I tried to-to-to escape, I don’t-don’t remember-“

“You saw the knife? Are you able to describe it?”

“It was as if-if in a nightmare,” Garrow shudders, hunching in on himself. “E-everything happened so fast. It-it was shining like-like gold.”

“Gold? Hm,” Janis says under her breath before she moves on. “Had you noticed any strange behavior from Sir Rodney, as of recent?”

Garrow seems to think for a moment before he gives a weak nod. “He-he had been rather secretive these past few days.”

“Can you provide me any examples?”

“Last Thursday,” Garrow says. “I saw him leave. It-it was very late when he re-returned. He showed me some-some wet coins, Roman coins, and… he started to laugh.”

Janis pulls the coin she found out of her pocket. “Something like this?”

“Oh, yes,” the man nods. “This is the coin he showed to me. It-it is from the third century!”

“It must be very rare.”

“N-no, I don’t know.”

Janis pockets the coin again before pulling out Sir Rodney’s ring. Before she can even fully remove it, Garrow recoils and starts rocking heavily again.

“His ring! It should be destroyed!”

“Why do you say that?” Janis asks calmly, removing it from sight in an attempt to alleviate some distress.

“It-it is a cursed ring,” Garrow says. “And it is after me now! I know it! I shouldn’t have worked on it, it is too late now!”

Janis won’t be able to get any more information from him in this state, and offers Garrow his phial of medication. He visibly relaxes upon the sight of it and reaches for it hesitantly. Janis nods.

“Thank you,” Garrow says as he removes the cork. “This will help me to calm down.”

“Do be careful with the dosage,” Janis says meaningfully. Garrow nods, but Janis leans against the table almost threateningly. “I mean it. Now, do you know anything about the bottle of champagne on ice in the changing room?”

“What? No.” Garrow says confusedly once he’s taken his medicine and had a moment to gather himself once again. Janis nods and clicks her tongue against her teeth slightly.

“What about the silver in the brazier, did you put it there?”

“It didn’t help, the power is too strong,” Garrow replies, seeming to grow anxious again. Janis apparently decides to end with that, and has Garrow escorted back into the cell.

“That last one didn’t seem very well, Janis,” Cady says anxiously. “He seems very disturbed.”

“That, or he is a good actor,” Janis nods, flagging down a cab to take them home.

————-

“Janis?” Cady asks from the sofa that evening. Janis turns from where she’s stoking the fire in the hearth.

“Yes?”

“Why… why did you choose to be with me?” Cady asks quietly. Janis knew she still had something on her mind. “Do I not make things more difficult?”

“Come here,” Janis coaxes, reaching out for her. Cady wraps her arms around Janis’ waist and rests her head on her shoulder. Janis holds her as well, and gently sways them around. “You know me well enough by now to know when I am lying, so I won’t say things won’t be more difficult for us.

“But you must know that you make things much better, my darling. I’m loathe to admit it, but there have been cases I would have been unable to solve without your aid. And you gave me a reason to stop my old habits, who knows where I would be if I had continued? You make me… human. Your love is my most useful detective tool.”

“Oh.” Cady says gently. “You make me better too.”

“I’m not sure I can believe that,” Janis chuckles quietly, but Cady shakes her head.

“You have. I was so uptight when I moved here, you help me slow down, ironically. You help me see things from a new perspective. Stop and appreciate the little details in things I would never have even seen otherwise. And you know how dark my world was when we first met. The things I had been through. But you brightened things up for me. Gave me a reason to stay.”

“I’m glad, then,” Janis murmurs, kissing Cady’s forehead. “Did you know I was never looking for a roommate?”

“You weren’t?” Cady asks, pulling back slightly.

“No,” Janis laughs. “I had told Aaron I found a flat in London, and he asked how I was planning on making rent. I guess he didn’t believe I could, and took it upon himself to find me a flatmate to help. He had tried a few times prior, but I refused every one until he brought you to me. I just got lucky that you could tolerate my presence as well.”

“I do more than tolerate you, my love,” Cady murmurs. “I always have. But I’m glad you took a liking to me, I would never have even gone with him if I knew you never wanted me here.”

“I did, after we first spoke. I knew you had something special to you,” Janis hums. Cady beams and cuddles back into her, following along with Janis’ slow waltz around the living room. After a second, she pipes up again.

“Jay?”

“Hmm?”

“What cases were they? That I helped you solve?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Janis teases. Cady whines in defeat. “Maybe we’ll read through some of your old case write ups and see if you can work out which ones they were.”

“Okay,” Cady whines. Janis kisses her gently to make her smile. Cady grins weakly and kisses her back.

“One moment, my dear,” Janis says, appearing to remember something. Cady pouts again but watches as Janis removes something from her coat pocket and heads to the map of London next to the door. “You’re good at mind game things, come help with this.”

Cady tilts her head in confusion, but comes up behind her. Janis is holding up the map they found among Sir Rodney’s belongings and trying to piece out where it is. “May I?”

Janis nods, so Cady gently plucks it from her fingertips and removes the framed map from the wall to carry both over to the desk. She flicks the small lamp on, which makes the paper easier to see through. She finds the matching section down near the bottom right corner.

“There.”

“Ah,” Janis says eagerly. “You up for a trip?”

“Always,” Cady says with a smile, craning her head back to look at her. Janis kisses her before running off to her room.

“Then pack a bag!”

————-

The next afternoon finds them on the site of an archaeological dig.

“Are you sure this is the right place, madams?” Their cab driver asks in concern. Janis turns around to see where they are, then to Cady, before she gives a nod.

“Certainly seems promising. I’d ask you to wait here, you’ll be paid for your time,” Janis replies as she holds out a hand to help Cady down.

“It’s rather eerie here,” Cady says, refusing to let go of Janis’ hand as they approach the gate. She shudders when a slight breeze blows through.

“We shouldn’t be terribly long,” Janis comforts. “And by the looks of things nobody is here, we’ve done far more dangerous and unsettling things.”

“Yes, that gives me so much more confidence,” Cady grumbles. “Look.”

Janis does, looking to the sign Cady is pointing to. It lists the name of the site, but has been painted over to say it’s been abandoned until further notice.

“Why would Sir Rodney come here, if it’s been abandoned?”

“Let’s find out,” Janis replies boldly, opening the gate and leading Cady in. They head to a cabin near the entrance first.

“They left the door open?” Cady asks in concern.

“They either were in great haste or rather careless,” Janis tuts, heading inside. There’s a desk directly across from the door covered in various artifacts. Janis takes a thick document from it, and skims through pages detailing the cult of Mithras. A map is tacked to the wall just above her. “We seem to be in the heart of an old Roman city, my dear.”

“I don’t particularly care for it,” Cady mumbles, arms crossed over her chest. “Why was it abandoned?”

“I’m not sure,” Janis replies. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t wish to, my darling. I can finish up here and meet you later.”

“No,” Cady insists. “It’s not safe here, I’m not leaving you here alone. I just wish you’d hurry.”

“I will, dearest,” Janis replies, kissing Cady’s forehead. Cady nods and enters the room further, turning to a desk just inside the door.

“What are these little cubes?”

“I have no idea,” Janis replies. “Nobody here to miss them, they could be useful.”

Cady manages to stuff all of them into her various pockets and under her skirts to take home. Janis chuckles affectionately. She takes a few more documents explaining more about Mithras, and a special curved, golden knife used in bull sacrifices.

“I think that’s everything of interest here,” Janis says, dashing back out the door and over to a series of very rickety walkways leading to various other areas of the site. She heads straight first, down a winding sort of path to a large fresco.

“Sarkisian, please be careful,” Cady calls anxiously from above. “We have no way of knowing when someone was last here, these paths could collapse at any moment.”

“I’m fine, darling,” Janis calls back from below. She points to the fresco she’s standing on. “It’s the cyclops. And Vulcan, at a forge.”

“Interesting,” Cady says, sounding as if she couldn’t care less. “Now come back.”

Janis does, heading up a slightly crumbled marble staircase back to Cady’s level. Cady walks around on solid ground to meet her and they both head over to some rigs. Janis grabs some rope resting on a crate.

“What is that for?”

“Not a clue. You never know,” Janis replies with a shrug. “Help me with this, there’s something down here.”

Cady helps tug on a rope pulley, bringing up a toolbox from the bottom of one of the rigs. Janis takes and pockets a sort of trowel, but leaves the rest of the archaeological instruments where they are.

Cady looks very relieved as Janis heads over to what remains of a building, instead of darting around some very deep holes. At least the ground is solid over here, and things are less likely to collapse on their heads.

Janis bends over a crate resting on the floor and pulls out a few construction hooks. Cady grows even more concerned than she was earlier when she pockets them as well.

“Who are these meant to be, Janis?” She asks of some nearby statues. She knows she’ll never be able to stop her partner being reckless. Janis follows her out of the building and over to them.

“That’s Neptune, god of the sea,” Janis says, pointing to the one on the far left. “And that’s Minerva.”

“And the middle two?”

“I’d guess Venus and… someone,” Janis replies. “I’ve not read up on Roman mythology in quite a while.”

“I never thought I’d see the day,” Cady teases, turning back around. “The great Janis Sarkisian doesn’t know something.”

“There’s a great many things I don’t know,” Janis replies casually, examining a statue of a bull they can now see. “For example, what happened to this leg?”

“Weather, I would guess, surely?” Cady replies, heading to her side. The hind left leg of the bull is disconnected from the hip.

“Most probably, yes,” Janis agrees. “Well done, love. This way.”

“Oh, not more of these dreadful walkways,” Cady pleads as Janis steps onto yet another rickety path. She follows Janis down this one, for… safety.

“A site like this would have had a hundred people working, and they all crossed these with no issue,” Janis comforts yet again. “I have good reflexes and I know how to fall, darling. I’m fine.”

Cady nods shakily as they reach the bottom and look around. Janis dashes over to an area she observes to have been covered with mud. Intentionally, and recently. She pulls out the trowel she ‘borrowed’ earlier and scrapes it away in chunks, revealing another fresco.

“The frigidarium,” Janis pants, pointing to the label. “At the baths. Someone covered this up intentionally.”

“Why?”

“You ask a great many questions I cannot answer, my dear Heron,” Janis says. “I’ll have to investigate there. Come along back up, I want to check this other shed.”

“What is this railway for?” Cady asks once they’ve followed the wood walkways back to the surface.

“Removing excess rubble,” Janis replies, carefully crossing over to the area of the shed. Yet again, the door has been left open. She heads to some shelves directly across from the door, and finds a drafted letter to Sir Gregory Pitkin’s boss, complaining of his behavior. “Seems Sir Rodney had a remarkable amount of control over his archaeological sites.”

“So Sir Gregory has motive,” Cady says.

“He does indeed,” Janis hums concernedly. “Ooh, a crossbow.”

“No,” Cady says immediately. It’s been disassembled, thankfully for her. “You’re bad enough with a simple pistol.”

“Oh, pish posh,” Janis scoffs. “I’m an excellent shot.”

“Need I remind you how many pigs’ carcasses we had to harpoon before you got it correct?” Cady says.

“And need I remind you that I only missed four out of ten vases? Blindfolded?” Janis retaliates.

“I’m still finding bits of china in my bedsheets,” Cady grumbles. “You had to do that in our flat? You nearly shot me.”

“Nonsense, I was aiming for the vases,” Janis tuts. “Anyway, one last thing.”

“Thank heavens,” Cady huffs, following Janis to a small platform over the river. A bulletin board of sorts sits to the left, and Janis heads to observe it. Another map of the site and a schematic of a gastraphetes are tacked up.

“They used the crossbow and gastraphetes for sieges,” Janis explains.

“How lovely,” Cady says. “Have you finished?”

“Yes, my dear, we’re done,” Janis says, taking her hand to lead her off site and back to the cab.

————-

Cady refuses to let Janis go that night. Janis allows her to cling to her and cuddle close as they lie beside one another in bed.

“What are you thinking about?” Janis murmurs gently, stroking the backs of her fingers over Cady’s cheeks.

“Nothing important,” Cady whispers back, pressing her face into Janis’ neck.

“Everything about you is important to me,” Janis insists quietly, twisting a few of Cady’s long curls around her fingers. “You’ve been acting strangely lately, I just want to make sure you’re alright, my darling.”

Cady nods against her with a quiet sigh. “I am. I’m more than alright. I just… ever since we’ve been courting, I’m… realizing just how dangerous this all is. I’ve nearly lost you twice in this case alone, and we’re still nowhere near solving it. Everything we do is so risky.

“And as much as I can’t bear the thought of something happening to you, you getting injured, or worse… I feel that asking you to stop would be somehow worse. Everything we do is so ingrained into who you are. If I made you retire you’d resent me forever as we lived out our boring, miserable lives. I’m simply trying to appreciate what the risk brings with it. But I’m not quite sure how yet.”

Janis blinks a few times as Cady finishes speaking, trying to process everything she’s just said. After a few moments, she takes a breath to speak. “It is a rather delicate balance. And I do have to admit the danger of it all gives me a rush like no other; the thrill of the chase is a key part of my desire. But, I’ve stepped back slightly. The cases I’m willing to take now are significantly less extreme than the ones I used to go for.

“Because I have… a purpose, now. In you. I have more than a companion. I have someone I provide for, someone I care for, and care about greatly. I have… I have a future in you, that I don’t have in my work. I have something to strive for. I have a life with you, and that’s something I value above anything. I don’t want you worrying for my safety like this, I hate seeing you so anxious. I have you to return to at the end of each day, I take great care to make sure I do. It may not seem it, but I take much time to work out any potential consequences of risks and ways I could be injured.”

“I believe you,” Cady nods. “I’m just… I don’t know. I know we’ve known one another for so many years, but I somehow feel that I’ve only just gotten you. I have what I dreamed of for so long. I’m afraid to lose it.”

“You won’t,” Janis promises. “Not for a long time. I’ll always come back to you.”

“I love you,” Cady replies, cuddling back into her spot.

“I love you too, my darling.”

Cady is silent for a long time, just breathing in her love and enjoying the moment. But she pipes up again when Janis shifts slightly and wraps an arm around her waist. “You said you want a future with me. Do you mean that you’ll retire?”

“Eventually, yes,” Janis agrees. “I’d be willing to say I’ll have to at some point. My body will eventually begin to deteriorate, along with my mind. Or maybe one day I’ll decide the lifestyle isn’t for me anymore. But I’ve been blessed with a rare opportunity for a life of excitement that I have no desire to leave any time soon.”

“I can’t imagine you retired, you’ll still be running me ragged in our old age,” Cady chuckles. “What do you think we’ll do?”

“I’ve always liked Sussex,” Janis murmurs. “The countryside. And… erm…”

“What? You’re all pink,” Cady teases, kissing Janis’ warm cheek. “Come on, you can tell me.”

“I quite like bees,” Janis says quietly, flushing a spectacular shade of scarlet. “I’d like to keep a few hives. Make honey.”

“You like bees?” Cady asks, rolling Janis onto her back and hovering over her. Janis nods with a slight pout that Cady leans down to kiss away. “Why are you so embarrassed? I think it’s sweet. I would never have expected you to enjoy something like that.”

“That’s why,” Janis replies quietly. “Everyone thinks I’m just… interested in death and the macabre. Something as cute as bees doesn’t fit my reputation.”

“I don’t want your reputation,” Cady says. “I want to know you. Who you really are. Tell me about your bees, my love.”

“Er… okay,” Janis says. Cady presses back against her as Janis starts rattling off facts she knows about her favorite species. They both drift off tangled in each other, dreaming about some lovely beehives in the countryside.

————-

Janis and Cady return to the Roman baths the next morning. Mr. Phillips greets them as they enter, and eagerly informs Janis that the rubble has been cleared from the corridor to the frigidarium, as Janis had requested. Cady seems particularly displeased that Janis wants to enter the room that very nearly collapsed on her, but she just remembers what Janis told her yesterday and tries to calm herself.

Cady follows Janis down the hall and into a rather large bathing room. It’s overgrown and dilapidated, but still very beautiful. A series of pillars outline the large bath, and Janis approaches the one closest to them when she notices a symbol etched into the base. She traces her fingers around it and pushes, revealing it to be a sort of mechanism.

“Heron, could you mark this symbol down?” She asks, upon seeing there to be a sort of key-shaped symbol drawn that was previously hidden by the button mechanism. Cady carefully copies it down in her notebook and follows as Janis moves to the other pillars.

Nearly every statue turns out to have one of the mechanisms, but only three have symbols hidden inside. Cady watches as Janis seems to align the symbols in her mind and suddenly dashes over to a bust tucked against a wall. Janis rotates it, causing a great rumbling to echo through the room as a door opens.

“Incredible,” Cady breathes. Janis grins at her slightly and takes her hand, leading her towards the door. The door leads to a small room, with an open trapdoor. “Not more of this.”

Janis takes hold of the rope hanging into the door and climbs down. Cady follows anxiously, nearly falling until Janis grabs her around the waist and helps her down.

“What is this place?”

“I am still unsure,” Janis hums, looking around at where they’ve found themselves. “But everything points to it being the last place visited by Sir Rodney. I have reason to believe we’re approaching the end of this case, my dear Heron.”

“Thank heavens for that,” Cady grumbles. She points to the corner nearest the door, where several items lay apparently forgotten. “What could those be for?”

Janis heads over to investigate, taking and lighting the lantern to use. “A broken glass negative, and… an ice maker.”

“Why would Sir Rodney have brought such a device here?”

“With any luck we shall know soon, my darling. Only one way forward,” Janis replies.

“Or we could go back,” Cady mumbles unhappily, following her companion. “Whole place apt to crumble any minute, and all. Oh, of course not.”

“Look at this,” Janis says, pointing to one of the frescos on the wall. She’s either not heard Cady or chosen to ignore her complaints. Most probably the latter. “Mithras again.”

“It is beautiful,” Cady agrees. It’s clearly ancient and faded, but she can still see the fine details. Janis has already moved on to the next fresco. “A ladder?”

“Or a hierarchy,” Janis nods. Cady carefully writes down all of the symbols in the order they go in, just in case. “Right, this way.”

“Oh god,” Cady shudders when they enter the next room. It appears to be a catacombs of sorts. The walls are lined with mummies, and several large pillars outline the center passage through it. To Cady’s horror, large sections of each pillar are constructed from human bones and skulls.

“Heron, come look at this,” Janis calls, crouched against one of the far walls to look at something. Cady heads over and finds her to be examining yet another skeleton. “See his shoe. I’d date it to be medieval at best. This man was a tomb raider.”

“But look at his eye,” Cady says with a slight shudder. “His orbit is broken. This man met a rather similar fate to Sir Rodney. How dreadful.”

“‘By the eye he was punished for he saw what he was not worthy’,” Janis recites, recalling a transcript she’d read earlier. “Hm. Well, that’s enough of that.”

Cady gratefully leaves the corpse and follows Janis as she heads to examine the large pillars. They have small gaps in them, which contain brushwood. Janis lights the three she can, which causes shadows in certain shapes to be cast on the floor. But one of the pillars has collapsed.

“There should be a plate here,” Janis says. “Someone has removed… oh! Heron, wait here!”

“Wait, I don’t-“ Cady stutters, but Janis thrusts the lantern at her and runs off. Cady crosses her arms and tries not to think about where she is. It’s not as if she’s not well acquainted with death and corpses, but she still doesn’t care to keep their company.

Luckily for her, Janis is back within five minutes. There was a deafening metallic clang and then a small series of thuds, but Janis seems fine. She re-enters the catacombs carrying the metal plate she found in Sir Rodney’s office.

“Are you alright?” Cady asks as Janis dusts herself off slightly. “I heard noises.”

“Fell off the rope this time, I’m fine,” Janis replies quietly. So Janis had fallen through the trapdoor. Of course. “Over here, my love.”

Cady follows with the lantern as Janis heads back to the collapsed pillar. Janis holds up the plate to the same height as the others and closes her eyes. After a few seconds she opens them again, and heads to the shadows on the floor.

“A trident, a bull, and a bridge. Leads to Mithras,” Janis says, pointing to each. Cady can’t see the bridge, since that’s the one missing, but she trusts her partner.

“The dig site,” Cady realizes. “The statue of Neptune, and then the bull. The bridge must be missing.”

Janis looks at her with wide eyes, cupping her face gently and smashing their lips together. Cady gasps quietly before responding in kind.

“You have much more use than I think anyone gives you credit for,” Janis murmurs. “Another case I may never have solved without you.”

Cady smiles at her and kisses her again. “Can we please leave this place now?”

Janis chuckles and nods. “Yes, come along, my dear.”

“Thank goodness.”

————-

“Darling?” Janis calls from her analysis table the next afternoon. Cady pops her head out from her bedroom.

“Yes, Honeybee?”

“Honeybee?” Janis squeaks, flushing bright red. Cady chuckles and heads over to her.

“You said you like bees, I thought it was sweet,” she murmurs, kissing just beneath Janis’ ear. “Do you not like it?”

“No!” Janis says immediately. “No, I-I like it. Just… maybe not while I’m working.”

“Understood. What do you need, my love?” Cady laughs gently.

“I’d like to work out the purpose of these cubes,” Janis says, showing off the twelve cubes they had found the last time they were at the archaeological dig. “I thought it would be rather like a jigsaw puzzle, we could work on it together.”

“It does look that way,” Cady hums, nodding and picking up a few. “Come along.”

Janis grabs the rest and follows, sitting with Cady in front of the fireplace. Cady starts sorting them into groups based on where the notches are to make it easier for them. Janis knows she could have solved it on her own, probably in much less time, but this gives her an excuse to do something almost peaceful with her partner.

So, they sit and puzzle, chatting about things Janis used to find dull. With Cady even the most aimless of conversation is suddenly exciting and new. She hopes it stays this way. About half an hour later, the object is complete.

“It’s a mould,” Janis says. “Huh.”

“What does it make?”

“Haven’t the foggiest,” Janis says, delicately moving it back to her analysis table. Cady watches as she makes a quick dry plaster solution and pours it into the mould. A few moments later, when it’s solidified, Janis cracks the cubes apart to reveal…

“This is very similar to the knife that killed Sir Rodney,” Cady says in concern, as Janis holds out a small knife with a curved blade.

“You should not jump to any hasty conclusions, my darling,” Janis chides gently. “I’ll need to run some more tests. You up for another puzzle?”

“Always,” Cady grins, flipping the knife around a few times before resting it on the table. Janis lays out the pieces of the broken glass negative they had found while exploring beneath the frigidarium. This goes a bit quicker, since they can see where the pieces should fit together more easily.

“Could you process this with your old equipment?”

Cady nods, and carefully transfers everything to a tray to keep it together properly. She’s able to transfer it to photo paper, and gives the product to Janis to develop. Janis carefully prepares the proper chemicals and swipes them over the photograph. Cady comes to peek at what has been revealed.

“This is Sir Rodney, and another archaeologist,” Janis says. “Eating ice-cream in front of the Pyramids of Giza, in Egypt.”

“‘Ice-cream in the desert, we are indebted to the Romans who developed the technique’,” Cady reads from a note in the corner. “So salt and ice can be used to create ice-cream. That’s quite remarkable!”

“Indeed,” Janis murmurs in concern. “Thank you for your assistance, my dear.”

“Of course! Do you have anything else you need me for at the moment?” Cady chirps. Janis looks at the photograph once again.

“Actually… yes,” she hums. “Could you go purchase some ice?”

“Ice?”

“And salt?”

“Er… okay,” Cady replies. It’s far from the strangest thing Janis has asked her to acquire. Maybe Janis wants to make ice cream too. “I’ll be back shortly.”

“Thank you darling,” Janis replies, kissing Cady goodbye as she tugs on her coat and heads out the door.

In the meantime, Janis runs a different experiment. She cleans out the pot she used to make her plaster solution carefully, and prepares her gas burner. She melts the lump of silver they had found in the brazier in the sauna, and pours it into the mould. It’s a near perfect fit. Janis pulls out the silver knife and stares at it, flipping it around in her hands. One possible explanation solved.

—-

Cady comes crashing through the door roughly an hour later, brandishing a small sack of salt and a brick of ice. She drops both at her feet carefully and is panting slightly as she unbuttons her coat once more. “Ice is… heavier… than I remember.”

“Are you alright?” Janis chuckles, kissing her in greeting and picking up her materials. Cady nods and follows her back over to her work table.

“What are you planning with it?”

“Ice knife.”

“What?”

“I’m going to make an ice knife,” Janis replies. She places the brick of ice in a wooden bucket and grabs her chisel, and pours the salt into another smaller container. The mould is placed into the middle of the ice cream machine they had found in the catacombs, and filled with water. Janis uses her chisel to produce some ice chips and surrounds the mould. “Could you pour a bit of the salt in?”

Cady carefully covers the ice chips with the salt, and they repeat the process until the temperature is low and steady enough to have frozen the water solid. Janis carefully pulls the mould out and splits it open once more to reveal the weapon.

“Either way, it was rather ingenious to create a weapon that could dissolve at the scene of the crime,” Cady says, picking up the silver knife.

“Yes, quite,” Janis hums. “All that’s left is to find Mithras.”

“Must we?” Cady whines.

“Regretfully, yes,” Janis chuckles. “Remember what we spoke of, dearest. We’ve been through many a case together and come out the other side. Now we shall do so hand in hand.”

Cady grins weakly at that and cuddles into her shoulder. They don’t have to investigate until tomorrow. She’s going to take all the time to cuddle her partner she can get.

————-

Janis heads back to Scotland Yard the next morning, wanting to gather as much information about Mithras as she can from the suspects before she attempts to go searching herself. Blinkhorn goes first.

“Hello again. What are you able to tell me about Mithras?” Janis begins, standing across the table from him. Blinkhorn lights up.

“Oh, so much,” he says eagerly. “It was the focus of our work. Why do you ask?”

“Were you searching for the Golden Knife?”

“Ah, I see you are an amateur,” Blinkhorn chuckles. Janis furrows her brow but lets him talk. “Yes, the Golden Knife was our… Holy Grail, so to speak. It is said that it bears the only explanation of the ritual of the Cult of Mithras.”

“I believe I read something about immortality?” Janis questions. Blinkhorn nods.

“A simple myth. It is said that the knife would provide immortality, to only the worthy one. And yet it is cursed, and it would kill you if you were not initiated.”

“And did you expect to find the Knife at the baths?”

“Well… Sir Rodney believed it might be. Did you see the knife representations around? They are extraordinary,” Blinkhorn sighs. “Oh, it’s a tragedy that he has passed away. And taken all his secrets with him. As soon as I am released I shall continue my researches. In his memory.”

“How kind,” Janis says dryly. “Thank you for your time.”

Blinkhorn is then exchanged for Pitkin, who grumbles the whole way across the hallway to the interrogation room, and looks as if he’s ready to spit on Janis when she sits across from him once more. “I understand that the paintings at the baths are focused on Mithras?”

“Yes. They are what make the place so remarkable,” Pitkin replies angrily.

“Are they why Sir Rodney came here?”

“He believed an important ritual item, the Golden Knife, was hidden somewhere around thr area of the baths,” Pitkin says. “I admit it would be wonderful, if it were true.”

“You are not concerned by the… reputation, of this artifact?” Janis asks, leaning back in her chair as if they’re simply having a casual conversation. Pitkin chuckles sardonically.

“What, you mean the curse? Before someone is dead, it is a blessing. After they die, it becomes a curse. Ha.”

Cady raises her eyebrows at Janis as Pitkin is exchanged for Garrow. He still doesn’t seem particularly well. But Cady supposes that spending several days in a cell would have significant effects on just about anyone.

Janis sits across from him and watches as he begins rocking slightly, the way he did the first time. “Could you tell me about the Cult of Mithras?”

Garrow snaps his head up to look at her, his eyes wide and bloodshot. “No! There is nothing to say! We are not the worthy ones.”

“But Sir Rodney believed that he was?” Janis asks, leaning forwards slightly.

“He was-was wrong! I have visions,” Garrow cries. “The Golden Knife, the-the mummy! Oh, it is all my fault!”

“Calm yourself, Mr. Garrow,” Janis insists. Garrow takes his phial of medication from his pocket and swallows a portion just before he is escorted back to the cell.

Now to find Mithras themselves.

————

Cady pouts slightly as they pull up to the archaeological dig once more, but she smiles as Janis carefully takes her hand to help her out of the cab.

“Would you be so kind as to hold these, my dear?” Janis asks, picking up the ropes and hooks she had left near the gate on their last visit. Cady holds out her arms, and Janis rests them in her hold. “Thank you. This way, we shan’t be terribly long.”

“We had better not,” Cady grumbles, following Janis to the far cabin near the river. Janis rubs her hands together excitedly when she gets to use the crossbow. It has been deconstructed, but Janis pieces everything together expertly in less than five minutes.

Janis carefully ties the ropes to the hooks, and loads the first into the gastraphetes. From the platform over the water, she takes aim at a pillar about fifty feet away.

“Stand back, my love,” Janis orders. “I am not well practiced in this exercise. Yet.”

Cady stands off to the side anxiously, watching as Janis holds her breath and fires. She misses the first time, but makes contact with the leftmost ring on her second shot. She ties the other end of the rope to the platform and reloads.

Once all three of the rings have been hooked and the ropes tied, Janis carefully tests the strength of them and beckons Cady back over.

“Would you care to go first?”

“No,” Cady says anxiously. “But I will. Are you sure it’s safe?”

“Not at all. Ready?” Janis asks, taking her hand and helping her onto their makeshift bridge. “Hold right to the sides and don’t look down. I’ll be right behind you.”

Cady listens, gripping the rope so tightly her knuckles turn white. She carefully inches her way across the rapid river below, until she reaches the far side. Janis follows, and accepts Cady’s hand to be pulled onto the platform. They head into the door that had been previously hidden to them, and down yet another trapdoor.

“Are we in the hidden temple?” Cady asks.

“I am not sure. We should be careful,” Janis replies, pulling out and lighting her lantern once again. She holds it in her left hand and Cady’s hand with her right, and they set off.

A staircase takes them down still further, until they enter an almost circular room, with several ways out. A symbol marks the floor and above each door. They look strangely familiar.

“Did you bring your notebook, my darling?”

“Always,” Cady replies, pulling it from her pocket. Janis takes it and flips through pages of various things until she finds the drawing Cady made of the hierarchy fresco beneath the frigidarium. The symbol of the door they just came through is one listed on the bottom level. Time to work their way up.

“Stay close to me, we should tread carefully,” Janis says. Cady nods anxiously and squeezes her hand. Janis looks back up from the book and picks a corridor, hoping desperately that her theory is correct and she doesn’t get them horrifically lost.

They head through a few tunnels, getting about a third of the way up the ladder in the drawing. One of the rooms they enter has every path blocked by a gate. A pillar sits in the middle of the room, with three columns and several stones on it.

“What do we do?”

“What we always do. Solve another puzzle,” Janis replies, carefully picking up a stone. When she rests it on a column, it sinks in slightly. Cady helps choose which stones should go where, until all three are at the same level. When they get it correct, the gates lift with a thunderous rumbling. “Back to it.”

Janis continues following the drawing, leading them through the doors with the proper symbols. Just at the end, they reach a long staircase up.

“Where are we?” Cady asks, looking around. A series of metal gates surround them, along with several small waterfalls. Directly across from them is a statue.

“The temple of Mithras,” Janis murmurs, approaching it.

“The golden knife,” Cady breathes, pointing to his hand. “But how to get it?”

“We shall find a way,” Janis answers, bending down to inspect a broken lamp. “This is not old, the oil is still fresh.”

“Perhaps Sir Rodney left it?” Cady inquires.

“No, I do not think so,” Janis says, standing once more. “He passed no further than the catacombs under the frigidarium.”

“So that means…”

“The murderer left this lamp,” Janis confirms. She heads back to the center of the room and looks around, spying a few levers on the wall inside one of the gates. “Wait here, my love, I believe this to be a two-person job.”

Cady listens, and waits for Janis to call instructions to her. Janis twists the lever in front of her, which locks her in but opens a way for Cady to go.

“What opened?” Janis calls.

“A gate, here,” Cady calls back. “Shall I go through?”

“Please,” Janis says. Cady goes through. “Have you any levers?”

“Yes, there’s one here,” Cady replies.

“Turn that,” Janis says. Cady does, holding it until she hears Janis say to let go. They continue this, calling instructions to one another and testing levers, until a way opens for Janis to escape, and Cady has a lever to open the gate in front of the statue of Mithras.

Janis approaches and carefully takes it, before she heads back to her series of levers and gates to free her partner. There’s a staircase out to the surface that has been blocked by yet another gate. They coach each other through until it’s opened, and escape into the daylight hand in hand, as Janis promised.

—-

Janis goes into her mind palace once they’re back in a cab. Cady has learned over the many years of their relationship that speaking to her in this state is effectively useless. Janis is connecting many dots in her mind, and so focused that she’s shut away all external stimulation.

Cady watches as Janis’ eyes move under her eyelids, her brain firing off rapid signals as she pieces together clues and information to conclude the case. Just as they pull back onto Baker Street, her eyes snap open and she gives a coy grin.

“Have you got it?” Cady asks, despite already knowing the answer.

“Have I indeed,” Janis replies, taking her hand and running back up to their flat.

————-

Janis carefully rests the Golden Knife on the wooden table.

Blinkhorn looks up at her in shock, gently taking it between his fingers to examine. “Is this… the Golden Knife? How did you find it?”

“I am also rather fond of digging, Mr. Blinkhorn,” Janis replies casually. “One never knows what one might find. On occasion, exceptional rarities such as this. The thrill of the chase, one’s enhanced reputation. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Are-are you suggesting that-“

“I am not suggesting anything, Mr. Blinkhorn. I know,” Janis replies. “You found the knife. You are an intelligent man. The ‘ghost’ knife shall remain one of the most ingenious creations I have seen in my career, I do assure you.”

“Wait, are you accusing me of the murder?” Blinkhorn says in alarm. “No! I-I deny it!”

“There is no use in denying it, Mr. Blinkhorn. I know the truth,” Janis says calmly. “You had no choice. Because it is you who discovered the Golden Knife, and therefore you who must be the murderer. Sir Rodney was prepared to take all the credit for the remarkable discovery, when in fact it was your work.

“He would have destroyed you, to ensure the truth was never revealed. But I uphold the truth. And I shall tell it.”

“What-what do you mean? That you will spare me?”

“What I mean is that everyone deserves a second chance,” Janis says. “Someone very important to me taught me that. I shall be following your career with utmost interest. Farewell.”

“Fare-farewell, Ms. Sarkisian,” Blinkhorn stutters.

————-

“Sarkisian, I am afraid I don’t understand how you’ve come to this conclusion,” Inspector Hubbard says, sitting across from her in the living room while Cady tends to the fire. She also turns around to look at her partner, curious to see how she solved the case.

“Shall I begin with the method?” Janis asks, clearly relishing in the opportunity to brag. Some things never change. Both of her companions nod, so she begins. “I had only to observe the pool of blood around the body. You surely must have noticed it to be significantly thinner than typical, and that it had not coagulated properly. A simple analysis revealed it to be heavily diluted with water. The steam in the room at the time would not have been sufficient enough to cause dilution of that degree.

“I admit, I didn’t know what the cause would be, until we discovered the ice cream maker in the catacombs. The killer produced an ice knife there, and stored it in the bucket of champagne until it was the proper time. Once they were in the steam room, he killed Sir Rodney, and the heat caused it to melt rapidly.”

“Incredible,” Damian says. “I would’ve thought it to be the silver you found.”

“I had only to speak to Mr. Garrow to dismiss that conclusion. He is a superstitious fellow, and he put the silver in the brazier for spiritual protection,” Janis explains.

“And how did you deduce it to be Blinkhorn? That’s the bit I’m missing.” Cady asks. Damian looks back and forth between his companions, noticing the way they’re looking at one another. He smiles slightly. They deserve happiness together.

“Because he is, given a significant amount of critical thought, the only suspect that would have made sense. Garrow was not of sound mind, he was too weak to have carried out such an elaborate and well planned crime. Pitkin, on the other hand, would not have served to gain anything from Sir Rodney’s death. He had no way of knowing whether the murder would have damaged the baths’ reputation, and he was not working closely with Sir Rodney to begin with. He had slight motive, but compared to Blinkhorn’s it’s vastly insignificant.

“Blinkhorn had made one of the most astounding archaeological discoveries of our era, and Sir Rodney was prepared to trample him to take the credit for it. So, he had no choice but to get rid of Sir Rodney to defend his own career. He chose a rather appropriate fate for him, I must say.”

“Well, I thank you for bringing this case to a close, and for revealing to us Sir Rodney’s true nature. We shall be keeping a close eye on Blinkhorn regardless, but he has been released,” Damian says, standing to leave. Janis follows him to see him out. “And on a personal note, my congratulations. It’s about time. I wish you all the happiness.”

“Maybe you’ll make a fine detective yet,” Janis chuckles. “My thanks, Damian. Farewell.”

Damian tips his hat and takes his leave. Janis returns to Cady and pulls her into an embrace.

“Another one for your stories,” she murmurs, looking into Cady’s blue eyes. “And one with several fond memories for me.”

“Most definitely,” Cady says, threading her arms around Janis’ neck and pressing up to kiss her. “I regret I can’t share more details of the events of this one. But I shall get to work on it immediately.”

“Maybe not immediately,” Janis coaxes. “I, for one, am quite tired.”

“Maybe not immediately,” Cady agrees with a chuckle. “Come to bed, Honeybee.”

“Always, my love.”

Until our next adventure.

----------

hope you enjoyed the adventures of... sherlockisian?? and watsheron??

anyway, back to modern day, I'm finishing up a few things for this blog (giving it a fresh coat of paint so to speak) and then ill have some exciting things coming up!! for me anyway, i hope y'all are into it too. just keep an eye out for things coming over the next few days!!

as always, thank you so much for reading, and ill see you all next week!!

lots of love,

ezzy

#cadnis #paint by numbers #space safari #cady heron x janis sarkisian #cady x janis #cady heron #janis sarkisian #damian hubbard #mean girls #mean girls musical #mean girls broadway #mean girls the musical #mean girls on broadway

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averykedavra · 4 years

Text

Valley of the Dolls 2/10

The wonderful idea of apathy!Roman goes to @caffeinated-cryptid, an amazing artist and all-around great person. Check out their @ts-unsolved au, it owns my heart! This is mostly in line with their ideas, but I took it in a slightly different direction. And my description doesn’t do justice to their amazing costume design, so take a look yourself! Also, this chapter is chock-full of my favorite headcanons. I got some of the ideas from this post and this post. You can find this fic on Ao3 here.

(Title is from Valley of the Dolls by MARINA. Chapter is based around Surrender by Malinda)

Pairings: platonic DLAMPR

Warnings: sympathetic Remus, sympathetic Janus, a ton of angst (but I’ve got a happy ending planned), blood mentions, death mentions, death threats, slightly NSFW jokes, attempted violence. Basically Remus being Remus. Set immediately after Putting Others First.

Summary: After the disastrous video and a week of spiraling, Roman becomes a Dark Side, Apathy. At first, Remus is thrilled, dragging his brother into all sorts of trouble. But Roman’s no fun anymore, the other Sides are paying a visit downstairs, and it’s becoming clear that Thomas can’t survive without Creativity by his side.

Chapter 2: Hours From Another Day

First. Previous. Next. Masterlist.

We're a bomb, ticking time away You belong to hours from another day... All we need is one disaster, one relief Hearts beat, hoping for that old belief... But that was then, and this is now And we made it through the woods somehow Willing and able to breathe.

Remus was minding his own business, welding two dildos together, when his brother fell from the ceiling and landed on the living room carpet.

Remus hopped off the couch and tossed the half-melted dildos behind him, where they burned a hole through the middle cushion. But there were enough stains and burns already that the new hole fit right in.

Roman was lying still, three inches from the coffee table with the extra tentacle leg, face-down and silent. Wait, was it Roman? He wasn’t wearing the right clothes. Black, not white. And Roman would never go this long without jumping up, waving his sword, and making declarations of undying love or great heroism or something.

Still. Remus just knew. Maybe it was intuition, or twin-tuition, or separated-from-this-guy-at-age-seven-tuition. This was Roman Creativity Sanders himself, lying on the Dark Sides’ ragged tan carpet.

Which begged the question. What in the name of Mary Shelley was he doing here?

“Ro-bro?” Remus asked. “Why’d you decide to drop in?”

Roman didn’t congratulate Remus on his pun. He didn’t respond at all. He didn’t even twitch.

“You in there?” Remus tilted his head, neck cracking. “Did you pass out? You’d better not have passed out, Jan will kill me if I bring another unconscious human into his room.”

No answer.

Remus summoned a chalkboard and dragged his nails down it. The ear-splitting screech echoed around the room.

Roman didn’t flinch.

Which was rude! Remus didn’t like being ignored. He grabbed the fused dildos and chucked them at Roman’s back. But he’d never been super great at throwing things so it flew over Roman’s shoulder and began to burn a hole in the carpet. Eh, there were lots of stains in the carpet, too. Nice things in the Downstairs didn’t tend to last very long.

“C’mon!” Remus prodded Roman with his foot. “C’mon, wake up! Say something! This is boring!” He kicked Roman’s ribs, hard, and Roman curled a little tighter, making a pained noise.

Success!

Now. If a kick got him to move, what would get him sitting up and talking? Maybe a nuclear warhead in the face? Or nipple tasers? Or branding his face with swear words! All fun options, but if Roman was in too much pain to talk, it wouldn’t do anyone any good.

Remus decided answers were more important than nipple tasers. A sad truth, but there it was.

“Get up,” Remus ordered, kicking him again. “Or I’ll electrocute your nipples.”

Usually, that statement elicited a lot of screaming. Or, in Jan’s case a ‘good for you, Remus,’ but Jan was different. So it was a surprise when Roman didn’t even look up.

Was he sleeping? Unconscious? Ignoring Remus like the little bratty baby he was? Wait, was he dead? No, he wasn’t dead, he’d moved—but what if he died right after that? Could Sides die? Remus had done a lot of real nasty stuff that would probably kill a regular boring human body twenty times over. If ripping out his own beating heart and feeding it to a dinosaur didn’t kill a Side, Remus didn’t think anything would.

But Roman still wasn’t moving. And hey, intrusive thoughts sucked. Remus couldn’t stop picturing Roman dying, his corpse decaying on the carpet, his eyeballs drying up and—

He wasn’t dead! He was breathing! He was breathing, right? He wasn’t dead, right? Remus sniffed at him and grabbed his arm, lifting it high in the air. It immediately fell back down. Alrighty, fun game! But he needed to figure stuff out. No time for games. Be a detective instead! Logan liked detective stuff, right? Remus caught him reading a Sherlock x Watson fanfic that one time. What would Logan do, and how could Remus do that better and with more butts?

Remus stuck out his tongue as he thought. He should try to gather information! Right? Like the answer to that is-Roman-breathing question. He’d completely forgotten about that. Sometimes Remus really didn’t like how his mind worked, all slippery and fluid and changeable. Like a greased pig on caffeine. How slick was a greased pig anyway? Were some animals faster when greased? What about humans? What about a few specific body parts—

Breathing. B-R-E-A-T-H-I-N-G. Focus, focus, focus. Remus had a mystery to solve and he didn’t have time for this.

How did someone check for breathing? Remus held his hand in front of Roman’s face. Was that breath? He hoped it was. He barely got to see his bro and it would be a real shame if Ro-Bro’s visit was cut short by cardiac arrest. If Roman died before Remus got to kill him, Remus would murder him.

Wait, heartbeat! That’s something Remus should check, right? Remus immediately reached for Roman’s chest to extract his heart. Nope. Wait a sec. They were both Creativity. Injuries hurt when the other did them.

Although it might get Roman to move—

Before Remus could decide whether to jumpstart Roman’s brain with a defibrillator-style shock to the system, Roman shifted again. It was tiny, but there.

Okay. Definitely alive. Cool. Cool cool cool. Was he asleep? Wouldn’t the impact have woken him up? And he was sleeping face-down, which sounded fun and suffocating but not the sort of thing Roman was usually into. Remus couldn’t see if his eyes were open. They’d better not be, or Roman was just ignoring Remus and making his life harder on purpose.

Remus lodged his foot under Roman’s chest and flipped him over.

Huh.

That was new.

Roman wasn’t wearing his usual prince costume. Well, he was? Sort of. But the white parts were all black, and the sash might have been darker as well or maybe it was just Remus’ imagination. Maybe it was because the red didn’t gleam and the gold didn’t shine. Roman was always easy to spot, like a strangely plumed peacock. Remus was the same, dousing his outfit in sparkles and ruffles. Maybe it was tasteless in Remus’ case, or ostentatious in Roman’s, but it made sure they were always the center of attention. Now, the colors were dull and seemed out-of-place on Roman’s outfit. They didn’t have any life to them, like veins with the blood drained out, only a shell left behind.

This was Roman, right? He’d never be caught dead in that outfit. It looked like Jan and Virgil had dressed him on a dare. But no. It was Roman’s face. Although his skin was pale and he looked a little thinner than usual and dark purple makeup dripped down his face. Like tears.

And was a lock of hair in front darker than the rest? Remus absently reached up and fingered his own white patch. He’d dyed it as a teenager and kept it around. It reminded him of Cruella de Vil, of raccoons. Roman talked about dying his hair sometimes, but usually something colorful. Red, or purple, or full rainbow. Never just darker brown.

Very emo indeed, Remus decided. Maybe this was a prank from Virgil? Virgil wasn’t really the prank type.

Then Remus noticed something really weird. Roman was wearing a crown.

When they were little, back when they were the same person, they wore a crown. After they split, for a while, they’d wear cardboard crowns and paper wreaths. But as they grew older, Roman and Remus decided against the crowns. For Remus, they brought back bad memories and stories he didn’t want to revisit. For Roman, the crowns always ended up falling off. Roman was full of restless energy—maybe it was a twin thing—and any hat or headgear was bound to wobble around and tumble to the floor. Remus was the same way. He tried wearing a dear skull to dinner and it fell into Virgil’s soup. Virgil was not impressed.

But now, Roman had a crown. A small golden crown perched on his head. Like it was glued to his scalp. Like Roman wanted a crown so bad he made it stay put, or he knew he wouldn’t move around enough to make it come off.

Something was definitely wrong.

Remus reared up to give Roman another kick, because he was getting answers. Then he noticed Roman’s eyes were open.

“You dork!” Remus yelled. “You’ve been awake this whole time? Why are you here if you’re just gonna ignore me?”

Roman’s eyes shifted over to him. He didn’t speak.

“Are you giving me the Silent Treatment?” Remus stuck out his bottom lip. “Rude! You visit just to act like I don’t exist? I thought princes have manners!”

Roman swallowed and whispered “Not visiting.”

“He speaks!” Remus paused. “Wait, what d’ya mean? You’re here, aren’t you?” He groaned. “Oh, is this another hallucination? I knew I shouldn’t have eaten those carrots—”

Roman shook his head slightly.

“What are you saying?” Remus stomped his foot. “If you don’t start talking sense, I’ll bash your skull in!” Remus summoned his mace and swung it from his hand, leering at Roman. “I’m gonna.”

Roman looked away.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Remus said, poking Roman hard in the leg with his mace.

That leg should have bled, thick and strong. Roman should have screamed like a girl and clutched the wound as the skin split and veins separated. Remus should have Sides at his door, patching Roman up and giving Remus dirty looks that weren’t the fun kind of dirty. Roman should be back the next day, sword in hand, and it would be Remus’ turn to bleed out, JanJan lecturing him as he tightened the bandages, asking why they couldn’t just leave each other alone.

That’s what should have happened.

But the mace stuck in Roman’s leg. No blood bubbled up around the points. Remus pulled it out with a squelching noise.

There was no damage.

“What?” Remus said aloud, prodding the area. Not a scratch. Even Roman’s clothes were intact. He’d sharpened that mace this morning, why wasn’t it—

A new outfit. A new crown. Makeup running down his face. The usual just-the-brothers-can-maim-each-other-rule no longer applying.

Remus dropped his mace. It clattered on the ground.

“No.”

Roman met his eyes and nodded.

“No, no, no.” Remus shook his head hysterically. “No! Nope! Not dealing with this!”

Roman exhaled and turned away again. Remus stared at him with wide eyes. This was a prank. A joke. It had to be! Sides didn’t just change, that wasn’t how this worked. Virgil switched, but Virgil was different. Roman was the fan favorite, the pretty boy, the good twin, everything Remus would never be.

“Jan?” Remus called, eyes trained on his brother. “Roman just fell into the living room and I think he might be a Dark Side now?”

He waited for Jan to respond. The Mindscape was quiet.

“JanJan?” Remus yelled at the top of his lungs.

No answer.

“Guess you’re not here,” Remus muttered bitterly. “Again.”

Great. He was alone in the Downstairs with a half-way comatose twin brother in a weird new outfit, that he couldn’t even stab!

“What happened to you?” Remus asked, not expecting an answer. “Did someone say something? I know the last video was a mess, but I thought y’all would figure it out. That’s what you do, right? Kiss and make up like in My Little Pony?” Remus blew a giant raspberry at Roman’s face. “I had things to do today and you completely messed up my schedule, so thanks a lot.”

Roman didn’t apologize. That tracked.

“You know what?” Remus asked, pacing back and forth. “You know what?”

He reached down and grabbed Roman’s face, squishing his cheeks and puckering his lips. “What?” he asked in a falsetto.

“I’m so glad you asked!” Remus released Roman’s face and stood up again. “I’m going to pay Upstairs a visit and see if I can pawn you off. You’re gonna be someone else’s problem, dearest brother-of-mine.”

Roman did not protest. Remus grabbed his mace off the floor and, swinging it joyfully, headed down the hall. His feet squelched on the carpet—it never really recovered from that cloud of blood, did it? The staircase was past the doors, a rickety set of spiral stairs perfect for pushing people down. Jan did that to Virgil once. It was hilarious.

Remus passed his own door first, a green slimy slab of putrid, hardened pus. ‘CREATIVITY’ was scratched into it with, Remus recalled, a double-bladed knife. The next door was Jan’s, made of dark burnished wood, a golden plaque proclaiming ‘DECEIT: Please Enter.’ The third door had no doorknob or keyhole, and the only marks were four long scratches down the front, like something had clawed it.

Remus deliberately ignored the blank, dirty patch of wallpaper where a fourth door used to be.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something move.

Remus whirled, mace at the ready. At first he didn’t see anything. It was just a stretch of ugly wallpaper with some unidentifiable stains and graffiti that yelled ‘EAT THE RICH’ in bold letters.

But one of the stains, a dark one in the center of the wall, was steadily growing wider. No, it wasn’t really a stain—it was a rip, a tear. The wallpaper peeled away, revealing—a door handle?

What?

Remus creeped forward, hand still on his mace. Despite himself, hope bloomed in his stomach. The door was a familiar shade of black. It was impossible, but—was Virgil coming back? No. He wouldn’t. Would he? Could he? And if he wasn’t, why as a door appearing on the wall?

Maybe it was a storage closet or something. Who summoned it, Jan? Ugh, if Jan was here and had just ignored Remus, he’d have a bed full of shaving cream tonight.

The door was getting larger, stretching until it reached over Remus’ head. The wallpaper folded around the corners of the door and was scored away along the edges. The gold doorknob rattled and clicked, a new keyhole right below it. Remus reached out and tried to turn the knob. It wouldn’t budge.

The whole door was black. On closer inspection, it wasn’t the same black as Virgil’s door. Virgil’s was iridescent and almost purple. This black was just matte black. Virgil’s door was paint on wood. This was—Remus touched the surface carefully—almost glassy in texture. Cool and smooth.

Then, under his fingers, red scribbled across the surface, looping around and tucking back into itself. A red square settled around the doorknob, a red stripe slashed across the door like a sash, and on that sash, black cursive etched out a name.

APATHY.

In little golden letters beneath, ROMAN SANDERS.

In even littler letters, DO NOT ENTER.

Remus pressed his fingers to his mouth, reading the words again. Apathy. Roman Sanders, do not enter. Apathy. Roman Sanders. Apathy, Roman. Roman.

A hysterical laugh bubbled in Remus’ throat. He stumbled to the opposite wall and slid down it, staring at the door. He blinked hard. It didn’t disappear. He ripped his eyeballs out, dusted them off, and popped them back in. The door was still there.

Apathy Roman.

“You little…” Remus laughed. “You little b*tch!”

He didn’t even mind that Thomas’ mind censored swears. He swore anyway. He swore and laughed until he was gasping for breath. He said every swear word he knew and some he was pretty sure he’d just made up. He laughed until his eyes watered. Was he complaining or celebrating? Remus didn’t know.

He didn’t know a lot of things. How did this happen? Was it permanent? Would Roman stay for a day, a month, a year, forever? Remus glanced toward the living room. Roman hadn’t moved from the floor. Well.

“Hey, turd!” Remus called. “You’ve got a room here, did you know that?”

Roman didn’t respond.

“Seriously? Don’t tell me you died while I was over here.” Remus walked back down the hall and poked Roman in the chest. “Get up. The door won’t open for me and I’m really curious what it looks like inside.”

Roman looked blankly up at Remus. Remus leered back. When that got no reaction, he tore off his nose and let blood drip down his face. Still nothing! Was Remus losing his touch or was Roman just that apathetic?

Apathy. Apathetic. Oh. Yeah, that made sense.

“Okay, I get it,” Remus said. “Your new gig is being a grumpy formless blob. Cool. Fine. But I’ve got business to do in the living room and you can’t just lie there forever. Get your tuchas moving and come check out your new digs.”

Roman looked away again.

“You’ve taken a vow of silence or something?” Remus flexed his fingers. “That’s irritating, I can’t read minds like Jan. Tell you what. Blink if you’re gonna get up and walk with me to your room, don’t blink if I’m gonna have to drag you down the hallway like a dead body.”

Roman didn’t blink. Either he wanted to be dragged or couldn’t be bothered to move his eyelids. Good enough for Remus. He grabbed Roman’s ankles and tugged him down the hall.

It was slow going. Roman was heavy and he kept getting stuck on the carpet. Remus tried his best to make conversation. He was used to talking to people who ignored him, so it was pretty easy. It was like that scene in Inside Out, he thought vaguely. Huh, that was weird. Usually his similes were more X-rated.

Wait.

If Roman wasn’t Creativity anymore—did that mean Remus was—

Remus stopped dead in the middle of the hallway, his brother in one hand and his mace in the other.

Was he the only Creativity now?

Was he like Him?

No. No, he wasn’t. He’d know. He could tell if something was different. Remus hadn’t changed. He was still demented and disgusting and delectable.

But wasn’t that worse?

Thomas…Thomas didn’t have Roman anymore. No flights of fancy or unicorn horns. Just asphyxiation and zombies and everything in between. Creativity was no longer balanced in a yin-yang black-white good-evil situation. It was all Remus.

He’d always wanted more control. More attention. To really have a say in Tommy’s decisions, to not be shunted aside and sidelined because his ideas were too ‘mature.’ He’d always wanted to knock Roman down a peg, kick him a few rungs down the social ladder.

Just...not like this.

He didn’t want Roman to fall off entirely. He didn’t want Roman to leave the stage. He didn’t want Roman gone.

Remus couldn’t—he couldn’t be the only Creativity. He was no good! Everyone said so! They’d probably blame him for Roman’s fall even though, for once, it wasn’t his fault, and Virgil would hate him and Jan would finally leave and—

There was a light tap on his leg. Remus jerked out of his thoughts, glancing down at Roman. Roman’s eyes were a little wider than normal. He looked worried.

“Okay?” Roman asked quietly.

Are you okay?

“Of course,” Remus said, waggling his eyebrows and ignoring the pang in his chest. “Let’s go.” He grabbed Roman’s arm and swung him around his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. Without the friction from the floor, Remus was at Roman’s door in seconds. He reached out and jiggled the handle. Still locked.

“You’re gonna have to open this,” Remus told Roman, twisting his head around to look at him.

Roman sighed quietly. His finger twitched, and the door swung open. Remus barged in and tossed Roman on the bed. It had black and grey sheets with a red quilt and was the only thing in the room. The walls and floor were bare plaster. It looked like a prison cell.

“Jeez,” Remus complained, “not very stylish, bro. Would it kill you to add some color?”

Roman was already curled up on the bed, not bothering to cover himself with sheets. He stared at the wall.

“Fine, I’ll decorate.” Remus snapped his fingers and added a large mirror with claw feet, a few grotesque paintings on the walls, and a knitted carpet the color of dried blood.

“Perfect.” Remus glanced at the still motionless figure on the bed. “Look, I’m gonna call in some backup, okay? Don’t die while I’m gone.”

Roman closed his eyes and seemed to fall asleep immediately. Remus watched him for a second before bolting out of the room. The door banged on the wall as he threw it open.

“Jan!”

Why wasn’t he here?

Remus stomped down the hallway toward Jan’s door. If JanJan wasn’t here, he’d just break into his room and make Jan pay attention.

As he passed the handle-less door, he paused. The food flap was locked but Remus knew the combination, he could—

No. He wasn’t that desperate. Not yet.

Instead, Remus kicked the snaky boy’s door open. Ha, joke’s on JanJan for letting Remus come in whenever. A snake hissed at him from its terrarium. Remus hissed back.

It would be pretty much impossible for Jan to ignore this. All Sides knew if someone else was in their room. Remus usually resented that. It made pranking harder. But today it came in handy.

“Oh, JanJan!” Remus stepped toward the bookshelf. “Sure would be a shame if all these lovely volumes were dumped into a vat of motor oil and set on fire!”

No angry snake appeared. Remus kicked over a end table and tossed some slime on the bed.

“Seriously, Jan,” Remus continued, releasing some crickets in the closet. “I’d get in here if I were you!”

There was a loud clang outside. Footsteps. Remus ran to the door and saw Jan, capelet flying behind him and face flushed, running down the stairs.

“There you are!” Remus complained. “Took you long enough.”

“I—” Jan stumbled to a stop in front of him, bending over and panting. “There—Remus—”

“What’s up, Double Dee?” Remus glanced at the open door behind him. “Um, I’d be careful going inside if I were you—”

“Remus,” Jan repeated, finally catching his breath. He straightened. There was panic in his eyes. “Remus, we—we have a situation.”

“Yeah, no sh*t, Sherlock!” Remus snapped. “While you were off playing nice Upstairs, that situation fell into our living room.”

“What?” Jan’s mouth dropped open. “Roman—what?”

Remus grimaced. “You’d better come see this.”

Next. Masterlist.

General taglist:

@the17thmeatball

@most-likely-fandom

@csi-baker-street-babes

@caffeinated-cryptid

Valley of the Dolls taglist:

@cluttered-wonder

@wouldnt-you-like-that

@gotta-love-alejandra

@mihaela-tbg

@tombombadi1

@kaefish

@not-enough-sketchbooks

@marshmallow-fluffy

@confusedhost

@ghostlygalactics

@a-salty-alto

@youthquake-in-the-making

@itriedandimtired

@aromantic-karamatsu

@fear-is-nameless

@somehow-i-got-an-account

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