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jowritesthingss · 3 years

Text

of being known (and loved)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairing(s): LoSleep (Logic | Logan + Sleep | Remy)

Rating: Teen (for very mild swearing and innuendo)

Content Warning(s): Logan’s coming to terms with being quoiro, so there are very vague sexual mentions/innuendo, just FYI, but nothing graphic

Length: 4,539 words

Brief Summary: Part of the @sanderssides-secretsanta gift exchange! This is my gift as Secret Santa to the lovely @demigodbookdragon ! Features the requested prompt of Logan coming out to his partner(s) as ace and/or quoiromantic, as well as one of the requested pairings—LoSleep!

TS Masterlist + AO3 Links

Logan Sanders. Logic to one Thomas Sanders, voice in his head and vision in his view, informing and (according to Roman) annoying twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, four weeks a month, twelve months a year, so it goes. And yet.

Logan Sanders. Who is Logan Sanders, really?

If there exists anyone out there who knows the answer to this question, Logan would really like to know, because he himself isn’t quite certain. Logan Sanders. Logic. Voice of reason. The smart one. The nerd. And yet.

Who is Logan Sanders?

And who could ever truly know Logan Sanders, if he doesn’t even know himself?

Logan Sanders enjoys order. He likes to know where things begin and end, to keep neat and tidy and color within the lines. He likes to present a clean image, to stay organized and orderly and crisp and clean, even as the other sides grow chaotic and wild and confusing around him.

Logan enjoys the chaos now too, he thinks, in small, manageable doses. Certainly in Remy-sized doses.

The other sides are...nice.

They’ve long since reached a point of not-quite-resolution, of almost-understanding, of mutual cooperation. And Logan is...he’s working through some things. But then again, so are the others.

They all slip, certainly—himself included—and there’s a long way for them to go yet. But the sides have the rest of Thomas’ life ahead to get there, and they have each other to metaphorically (and occasionally literally) lean on.

All the same, it’s just easier to talk to Remy, sometimes.

Technically, as Sleep, Remy isn’t actually one of the sides. He’s somehow still there inside the Mindscape, and no one is particularly sure why.

Remy simply appeared one day out of nowhere, scaring a young Virgil to the point that he refused to come down off the fridge for hours. He was known only as his function—“Sleep”—for a period of time before deciding out of the blue that his name would be Remy.

Logan has been puzzling this occurrence over for decades, but has long since given up, acknowledging that it will likely forever remain a mystery, just like what it is, precisely, that exists at the bottom of the ocean. (Further, the existence of any of them is very much in defiance of any science Logan has ever heard of, really, so he isn’t exactly one that can judge.)

Remy is a bit of a metaphorical wild card. He goes where he wishes, does what he wants. He’ll disappear for weeks on end, follow them around nonstop for days...he goes on ridiculous coffee binges before swearing Starbucks refreshers are the only “valid” drink...he lures Thomas into napping on the couch but refuses to cooperate at bedtime...Logan isn’t entirely sure why Remy does what he does beyond simple whimsy, and it puzzles him incessantly.

However much Remy’s behavior might confuse him, it’s...actually quite pleasant to have him around. Random disruptions and interruptions generally are not something that Logan delights in, but aside from Janus, Remy is the only other side with an appreciation for sarcasm, and his presence as Logan works is...enjoyable tolerable.

Then there is the veritable fact that, unlike the others, Remy always listens to Logan.

Logan knows that the others mean well. And they do—they have since assured him that they truly do. But they get so carried away in their excitement sometimes that having someone a bit more grounded like Remy around to converse with is nice. And in turn, Logan always makes sure to listen to Remy. As loath as he is to admit possession of any “feelings”, he knows how it can feel to be ignored.

One of Remy’s favorite things to discuss is Mindscape gossip. Logan doesn’t understand the appeal of gossip, but he’s sure that Remy doesn’t understand the appeal of the history of the telescope, either, so he listens.

Today, the “hot” topic seems to be Patton and Remus. Or, rather—the relationship between Patton and Remus.

“I’m not kidding you, gurl!” Remy flops backwards in Logan’s bed. Logan refrains from telling him not to muss up the carefully-made bed; it hasn’t worked the past forty-seven times he’s asked, and he doubts it would work today. “I legit walked in on them when I came home last night.”

“You ‘walked in on them’?” Logan asks neutrally from his desk, fondly brushing aside Remy’s improper usage of ‘legit’. He turns the page, looks at Thomas’ schedule for January, winces. Double-booked on January eighth, and in the middle of a pandemic, of all things? How ever did he allow that to slip past him? “Doing what, exactly?”

“They weren’t doing the do, if that’s what you’re asking about,” Remy responds.

“‘The do’,” Logan quotes, puzzled momentarily before the realization hits him. “Oh, you mean intercourse, don’t you?” He pauses in his work to make a note in the margins about updating his vocabulary cards.

“Duh.” Remy pauses to roll over and sip at his drink. He’s on one of his tea detoxes; Logan predicts it won’t last more than a few days this time. “But they were, like, snuggling. On the couch. And watching a romantic movie.”

That makes Logan pause. “Remus, watching a romantic movie?” He pauses and glances over at Remy briefly before continuing to write again. “That does seem a fair amount out of character.”

“Yes! Exactly!” Remy exclaims. “Remus wouldn’t subject himself to something like that willingly. No way. That’s why I think they’re dating.”

“Mm-hmm,” Logan agrees absent-mindedly as the events of January twenty-first catch his attention. Then he pauses. Computes.

Logan abruptly drops his pen and swivels around in his chair. “Apologies. Did I hear you correctly, Remy? You believe Patton and Remus are,” he struggles to get the word out momentarily, “are dating?”

“Yeppers!” Remy nods. He slurps noisily at his tea before popping it back on Logan’s bedside table. Rolling to hang his torso upside down off the side of Logan’s bed, he says, “it’s not the first time I’ve seen anything hinting at those two throwing goo-goo eyes at each other, but that pretty much cements it in my mind.”

“‘Goo-goo eyes’?” Logan frowns as the realization further sinks in. Dating. Patton and Remus. Dating? “Wait, am I to understand that sides can date?”

“Like, of course.” Remy’s face is starting to go red as blood rushes down to it. “Did you miss that whole awkward fling between snakeyboi and prissy mister prince back in college? God, seeing them interacting for the first time in years was so awkward.” He snickers loudly. “Glad they didn’t call me to the stand back during that whole dumb courtroom thing.”

“I...no, I don’t have any recollection of any such thing,” Logan murmurs. He briefly wracks his memories, blue pen scratching crisply against the page in front of him, and comes up empty.

“Mmm, yeah, that’s probably a good thing, babe.” Remy slides off the bed and onto the floor then, hissing as blood starts to rush away from his head again. “Honestly, whole thing was a train wreck to watch. Patton and Remus are pretty cute, though. I guess opposites really do attract, huh?”

“Ah...yes, I suppose so,” Logan murmurs, but as Remy launches into a play-by-play detailing the embarrassment on Remus’ face and Patton’s sheer terror at being the one busted for once, he’s already tuning the other out.

Dating. The other sides date. Which means, of course, that they...feel things. Well—yes, the sides are capable of individual emotions. That has been established prior, Logan knows. But this means that they feel love things.

Sides can feel love?

That question, however, goes unasked and unanswered, as Remy drones on about how flustered Remus had been when he was caught being “lovey-dovey” and Logan’s schedule blurs out in front of his face.

Unasked. Unanswered. Yet still it lingers in the back of Logan’s mind as he finally convinces Remy to let them sleep for the night, as he lies awake in bed staring at the blinking red numbers of his alarm clock:

Sides can feel love?

Logan Sanders enjoys understanding. He loves learning—loves looking up to the stars, down at the ground, in front at the path ahead of them all, even back at where they’ve come from sometimes. He loves to be known to know. Yes, Logan Sanders likes understanding.

This entire debacle, however? Logan does not understand.

Can the sides feel love?

The question follows Logan for weeks as he goes about his days, carefully maintaining Thomas’ schedule and gently bullying the other sides into doing their tasks and taking care of themselves. He refuses to let it interfere with his job, but in the moments he pauses to take a breath, the question is there to steal his breath away again.

Love. Love, love, love. The one thing Logan absolutely loathes—or, if he were to be honest with himself (and as much as he hates the truth, he tries to avoid the practice of denying truth), the one thing that Logan is absolutely terrified of.

He’s known for a while that the others love him, and that he (fortunate or unfortunate as it may be) does love the others in his own way. But that’s easy, and it’s obvious. It’s a purely familial thing—or so Logan had thought.

Then Patton calls a family meeting and awkwardly informs them that he and Remus are an item now. And Roman is groaning over-exaggeratedly, Virgil is hissing, Janus seems all too unsurprised, Remy is gleefully vindicated, Emile looks away while Remus licks Patton’s cheek for all to see, and Logan?

Logan has his answer.

So the other sides—or, at least, some of them—do, in fact, experience some sort of romantic or sexual connection to others. So the sides can feel love, then.

Only—what about Logan? What does he...what does he feel?

Logan metaphorically looks into himself. He isn’t sure what he (again, metaphorically) finds.

As much as he might struggle to understand figurative language, Logan isn’t completely unaware of it. To make full usage of such metaphors, it all seems a confusing jumble of darkness and confusion and occasional swirls of odd colors.

What are those sorts of attraction even supposed to feel like? he puzzles as he sits on the couch beside Patton and Remus, a thick tome about astronomy perched in his lap as he takes in exactly none of the words on the page it’s opened to. He’s always assumed that, as sides, they wouldn’t feel such human emotions, or then again, as Thomas’ sides they would echo his sexual orientation.

But Logan...Logan feels...nothing. Right?

Or, well. Patton and Roman have been very adamant about how love comes in all different forms, and it makes logical sense. Familial love, romantic, platonic, and so the list goes on. And there’s no use in denying that Logan certainly feels things. Logan can’t always recognize it, but he’s trying now. He’s trying to figure it out.

All the same, he still hasn’t felt anything in particular towards Thomas’ past relations—not any love-related feelings, at least—but then again, they were Thomas’ partners, not his own. Logan has never himself felt anything. He feels nothing.

Or does he?

There is something that he feels in there, Logan knows. He knows he loves the others platonically, regardless of how little he says it aloud. And then there’s Remy, of course.

Goodness, Remy. Reluctant as he may be to admit it aloud or even to himself, Logan knows he loves Remy, with his smirk and his snark and his ridiculous leather jacket and his odd yet enlightening ways of using modern slang.

So Logan does love. Somehow. In some way. But he’s never thought to feel anything romantic; can he feel anything romantic? Will he even know when he feels it?

And there’s a lurking thought—likely irrational, Logan reasons, even as his mind tries to convince him otherwise—what even is the purpose of feeling anything romantic? What is the point? Logan steers clear of Roman’s romance novels, but he picks up tidbits from everything Thomas reads. Is there any use of potentially-romantic feelings?

It might be nice, he thinks as Remus drags Patton into the kitchen to bake something that will probably not end up edible. Romantic relations are often the pinnacle of any and all relationships in the eyes of society, for one thing. And while the amount of closeness and understanding conveyed between partners seems daunting, it seems as though it could be somewhat relieving as well.

But Logan’s views on romance mean very little if he has never felt anything of the romantic sort, do they?

Sighing, Logan abruptly shuts his book and stands to walk upstairs to his room. At this point the only thing he’s doing is confusing himself, and that won’t do him any good.

All the same, still the thoughts linger, even as he forces himself into more actively productive tasks for the rest of the day.

Logan feels nothing. Or he feels something. He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t enjoy not knowing.

Logan enjoys simplicity and complexity in equal measure. He takes pleasure in the simplicity of a black coffee every morning and a honeyed chamomile tea before bed—in the complexity of a full, well-organized schedule or an alluring mystery novel.

Love, for all it ought be simple, is a complexity that Logan has always struggled to understand in any and all forms. And to his utter chagrin, it seems romanticism and sexuality are no different.

It all comes to a head one dreary, drizzly afternoon in the Mindscape. (Logan wishes the “drizzly” part weren’t literal, but alas, Roman and Remus’ experimentation in the Imagination went wrong somehow, and now tiny rain clouds hover above every single room and hallway in the Mindscape.)

All things considered, it hasn’t been a great day for productivity—which means that it of course hasn’t been a great day for Logan, either.

Stress has been piling up from internal emotional struggles alongside external scheduling issues. It is to the point that Logan—and he isn’t a fan of flowery metaphors and figurative language—all Logan can think to do is compare the roiling in his mind to a brewing storm, rain falling within his mind as it pours down and soaks his clothing and skin within the Mindscape.

Logan is pacing about his room—doing his best to “wear a path into the floor”, he thinks the saying goes—when Remy bursts in, dressed in an obnoxiously pink raincoat and squeaky polka dot rain boots.

“Oh, thank god. Sanctuary.” Remy very nearly throws himself onto Logan’s canopy bed upon noticing that it is miraculously still dry. The tarpaulin Logan and Virgil wrangled up over it earlier is somehow still holding up; Logan has no idea how and isn’t in the mood to question a spot of good luck.

“Aight, who pissed Roman off this time?” Remy asks

“Surprisingly enough, no one,” Logan answers before realizing that Remy is dripping all over his bed wet. “Please take care to dry yourself off before getting on my bed.”

Remy huffs but complies, unceremoniously stripping off his outer garments. He wriggles his eyebrows at Logan while he tosses his boots over the side of the bed. “Damn. If you wanted me to undress, all you had to do is ask, babe.”

“I—um,” Logan says eloquently. He awkwardly pauses mid-pace before jerkily continuing a moment later. Remy says things like that all the time. Is Remy flirting? Is he not? Does he mean it? Does he not? Logan wants to know, but one isn’t supposed to just flat-out ask these sorts of questions, are they?

“Why don’t you join me where it’s dry, gurl?” Remy scoots over and pats the spot next to him. “C’mon. I’ll even, like, move over and give you some room. So gracious of me, right?”

The corners of Logan’s mouth unconsciously quirk slightly upwards, and he ceases pacing to head over to the bed.

“Uh-uh, gurl,” Remy shoos him away, and Logan’s eyebrows furrow in puzzlement. Had he not just said—

“Strip,” Remy says, and Logan’s mind goes blank in a momentary haze of confusion and panic.

“I—what,” he stammers, and his head feels light and fuzzy.

Remy sees the look of panic in his eyes, and his expression softens slightly. “Logan. If I can’t be wet on the bed, neither can you, babe.”

“Ah,” Logan says faintly. He moves over towards his wardrobe and almost mechanically pulls out a pair of his pajamas. He manages to get them out and over to the bed before they get too wet, where he sits on the edge and quickly shucks off his usual day attire of jeans, a collared shirt, and a crisp and calming blue necktie.

Logan keeps his back carefully turned as he changes. It’s ridiculous that such a thing feels odd now; they all are roughly the same physically, and it isn’t as though they haven’t changed in front of each other multiple times. But all the same, something still feels off this time.

Clothed in pajamas, Logan debates attempting to get his sopping day clothes into the laundry hamper, looks up at the gray little clouds still crowding the ceiling, gives up. He leaves them in a little dripping pile on the floor by his bed before turning to crawl up to the headboard where Remy lounges, leaving a tiny space on the left side of the bed for Logan to weasel his way into.

“Don’t be shy, gurl. We can huddle for warmth and all that jazz.” Remy holds out his arms invitingly, and it takes a moment before it registers in Logan’s mind that he’s offering a hug. “Unless you don’t want to, ’course.”

“I don’t think—” Logan starts before cutting himself off abruptly. He pauses, sucks in a tiny breath. “I do not think I am amenable to a hug at the moment.”

“That’s chill,” Remy assures. He adjusts his position on the bed, allowing Logan space to sit comfortably without touching him. Then he reaches up and drags his sunglasses down off his face, looking carefully at Logan with a searching gaze. “Hey. You good? You’ve been acting a little weird lately, but you’re, like, especially weird today.”

Ever the teacher, ever the educator, ever the answerer of questions, Logan wants to answer. He does. He just isn’t sure that he should.

Logan quietly sits and gets himself comfortable (“criss cross applesauce”, he’s never been able to quite break the silly elementary school habit). Then....

“I am...confused, I supposed,” he finally admits, and for a five word sentence, it is surprisingly difficult to get the words out. But Remy always listens. He’ll listen now—when it matters—correct?

“What about?” Remy asks, leaning back against the headboard and popping his sunglasses back on again, masking his expression.

“I—are you flirting with me?” Logan bursts out abruptly. To hell with his uncertainties—he has to know. He’s itching, twitching to know, to understand. “Have you—is that what this is? Is that why you’re always ‘hanging’ with me?”

“Is that what this has been about?” Remy laughs, but it isn’t malicious, Logan doesn’t think. “About time, TBH. I thought you’d never notice”

“I didn’t notice,” Logan says. “Well—I did notice, eventually, but I didn’t...I don’t—”

“Look, if you don’t feel the same way, that’s...fine,” Remy says, and his voice sounds different, devoid of his usual mischievous tone. Somber, almost. “It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to, babe. I do, like, genuinely just enjoy being around you, you know?”

“But why?” Logan asks, and something in his voice cracks. Inwardly he curses, hoping that Remy won’t here.

“There’s something bigger going on here, isn’t there?” Remy shifts next to him in the bed, and suddenly he’s leaning closer to Logan. The sunglasses are off again, and Remy stares into Logan’s wide eyes with that more solemn expression again.

“I don’t—” Logan cuts himself off again. He looks up towards the tarp hanging from the corners of his four-poster bed, attempting to organize his thoughts the best he can before speaking this time. It proves to be a difficult task; his thoughts are all jumbled and clumped together in a hopelessly confused mess. He just doesn’t understand. Logan likes to understand, but for once he doesn’t. Emotions have never been his strong suit, and these emotions are proving stubbornly elusive.

Logan clears his throat before speaking next. “Up until you brought up the relationship between Remus and Patton, I had never realized that we as sides could feel romantic or sexual attraction independent of Thomas,” he explains. Unconsciously his left hand goes up to push his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “It had...never occurred to me.”

“Oh.”

Logan waits for Remy to continue even as he stolidly refuses to turn and look at the other. When Remy says nothing else, he haltingly continues.

“As you and the others no doubt know, I often struggle at identifying emotions,” Logan continues. “Now that I am aware the others have a capacity for other attractions, I have attempted to find them within myself, and I...can’t seem to find them.”

“So you’re aromantic then?” Remy asks, his voice sounding neutral.

“No!” Logan rushes out before pausing. “I, ah. Perhaps? I’m afraid that I don’t know. I do not know what it is that I am feeling.”

“But you feel something.”

“Yes, I....” Logan finally finds it within himself to turn and face Remy. “I do indeed feel something. I feel many somethings. Towards you. But I’m afraid I don’t know what it is, and that...” he swallows, “...that isn’t fair to you.”

Remy is silent, his face impassive, and immediately Logan worries that he’s ruined everything about their relationship, whatever it is, whatever it may be.

Over the years Logan has grown to quite enjoy the lack of pressure and expectancy between the two of them whenever they spend time together, and the snarky conversation between the two of them has been quite refreshing. Not to mention the rare occasions that they do actually touch, or converse more seriously. Is he about to lose all that? Has Logan ruined all of that?

“...Do you think that you might be, like, quoiromantic or something?” Remy asks slowly.

Logan blinks confusedly behind his glasses. “I’m sorry?”

“Quoiromantic. It’s under the aromantic umbrella,” Remy explains. He frowns, tapping a finger over his lips contemplatively. “Hmm. Roman might be better at explaining this, since he’s actually aro. I’m demisexual, but I’ll admit I don’t know as much about the aromantic spectrum as maybe I should.”

“Quoiromantic,” Logan sounds out. “What does that terminology mean, exactly?”

“It’s like....” Remy frowns. “Mm. It’s like, you don’t really know how to tell the difference between romantic and platonic feelings, I think. You’ll wanna double check with Roman on that though, babe.”

“I...yes. That...does sound accurate,” Logan realizes aloud. “Quoiromantic.”

It’s like a metaphorical puzzle piece clicking into place inside his brain. Quoiromantic. Not being able to distinguish between romantic and platonic feelings...that certainly sounds a lot like what Logan has been puzzling over for the past few weeks.

“Quoiromantic,” Logan tests the word. “I would need to perform more extensive research, and perhaps examine my...emotions more before I can arrive at a proper conclusion, but...yes, that sounds...correct. That sounds....”

Good. It sounds good.

However.

Ice prickles through Logan again. He looks back at Remy. “But what would all of this mean in regard to the two of us and our relations?”

“What do you want it to mean?” Remy asks simply.

There comes the darkness again, rushing, followed by swirled colors of confusion.

“I...still don’t know,” Logan admits.

“That’s fine.” Remy shrugs. He looks at Logan, and with his sunglasses still off, Logan can see the earnestness and—fondness, is that fondness—in his bright brown eyes. “We can figure it out as we go. D’you wanna just, like, keep chilling like we’ve been doing?”

Logan licks his lips, adjusts his glasses again even though he really doesn’t need to. “...Maybe with some more hugs now?” he cautiously requests. “And with, ah...I believe it is called ‘cuddling’?”

“Lit. I’m down if you are.” Remy grins, flings himself back and out on the bed, looking not unlike a starfish as he does so. “Get in here then, babe. Can I still call you babe?”

Logan waits until he’s nestled into Remy’s side to respond. “Certainly,” he murmurs into Remy’s side, and Remy hugs him tighter. And goodness, it’s so warm and nice there on the bed with Remy that he can’t help but wonder why they hadn’t done this much sooner.

So warm and nice...that is, until the tarpaulin laden down with rainwater above his bed finally gives in to the weight.

The thing splashes down on the two of them, soaking them and causing a shrieking Remy to drag Logan out of the room in search of an umbrella and a dry towel. Even then it is still kind of nice, if a bit soggy and much colder, and Logan has to bite back a smile as Remy curses and leads him to go tell off Roman and Remus...holding Logan’s hand all the while.

And perhaps...perhaps Logan doesn’t exactly know how he feels on a larger scale. But he knows how he feels in the given moment—content. And that’s all he needs to know for now.

Logan Sanders enjoys solitude plenty, but he has more recently discovered enjoyment for the company of the others as well. All things considered, all confusions included, he enjoys it. He loves quiet nights of coexistence, and maybe he loves Remy romantically. Or maybe he doesn’t. He’s not quite sure, but he doesn’t need to be—not yet, perhaps not ever, even. They’ll work it out.

Most importantly, he thinks, Logan Sanders enjoys the company of himself, whoever “himself” might be or become.

Logan Sanders. Who is Logan Sanders, really?

If there exists anyone out there who knows the answer to this question, Logan still would like to know, because he still isn’t quite certain. Logan Sanders. Logic. Voice of reason. The smart one. The nerd. And yet.

Who is Logan Sanders?

Well. He is himself. Regardless of who or how he loves, Logan is himself. He is known, he is loved, he is himself. And he has his network of fellow sides and of Thomas and of Remy to help him, to know him, as he learns and knows and understands understands more about who Logan Sanders really is.

It’s a journey he’ll enjoy not being alone for.

Fin

Happy belated holidays! I decided to try participating in two Sanders Sides Secret Santa fic exchanges this year, and this is the product of the first of the two. I am SO thrilled to reveal myself as Avie’s Secret Santa! I hope that everyone enjoys this fic—especially you, Avie! <3 Goodness knows I had fun getting to write it for you :D

Want to be added onto any of my taglists? Shoot me an ask or a message here or via my other social media!

31 notes · View notes

kanene-yaaay-o-retorno · 3 years

Text

The Pink Pearl

Kanene’s Notes:

Soooo... I needed to improve my action scenes. And then this fanfic was born! :D)/

It has pirates and ghosts and pirate ghosts! :DD

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* That fanfic was a bit inspired on that fabulous video right here.

* Contains: Angst, Cursing, Hypnosis, Implied death, Clear description of bein hypnotized, clear description of a ship burning to the ground, Hur/Comfort, Mild Comfort, Mystical beings, Magic, Happy ending, Hopeful Ending.

* This characters do not belongs to me. They all belongs to Thomas Sanders.

* Something around 3.500 words. -w-)b.

* You can also find this fic on AO3.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* Tô com preguiça de postar a versão em português brasileiro aaaa! Thankys for reading! Eat a snack, rest, watch that favorite movie you have been wanting to see again, take care and drink water! Byeioo!~

[~*~]

“I need help.” He tried to not grimace with how the words dried even further his hurt throat as they left his lips, shivering when a sudden breeze from night’s cold froze the sweat on his skin. Remy - at least that was what he said his name was, but trusting in a pirate word could lead you to not so pleasant storms - snorted, moving his cuffs and pressing their backs closer.

“Yeah, no shit.” His voice was raspy, tired, and not for the first time Emile wondered for how long he had been there, since his presence was already a constant when the amateur sailor’s boat had been plundered and he got captured, thrown on the darkest part of the ship and finding his company.

“That makes two of us.” The last part came out as a bitter whisper.

A peaceful wave hit the hull, making the ship stumble and rock under the moonlight that gazed pieces of their skin through a few cracks in the highest woods.

“No. I mean, yes, but…” Emile sighed deeply, tired awareness washing over him as the sailor realized the full extent of his next words. He rested his head on Remy’s shoulder, a move which led the other to untense his muscles and be more open to conversations.

They didn’t have much more time before the moon hit its highest spot in the sky and Emile wasn’t sure if they would make it to another full moon. Remy could only distract the crew so much. “I need your golden necklace.”

The other stiffed, breath hitching, stiff pose. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.” Calm voice, free of any accusation, his brown eyes stared at the ‘ceiling’ picturing stars and constellations and the unstable clouds and how it feels when the salty breeze hit his skin freely. “I know it’s probably an important possession for you given how long you’ve been hiding it, and I’m really sorry I am asking for it but we really need a good offering.”

“Are you going to beg Neptune to save us?” Sound of fabric being ripped, the metal’s clicking making itself known. “He has islands and ships of gold being given to him right now, goldenfish. This may be a preciosity, but isn’t that worth it.”

Goldenfish: Breakable; Pirates who didn’t experience the true nightmares of surviving in the ocean; Naive; Fragile;

“If I’m going to go in a shit way, at least let a captain die with the last of his treasures.” His voice choked in the middle of the sentence, but both pretended to not notice it.

Emile felt dread fill his stomach, tightly closing his eyes as tears pricked their corners. Their captors never held their tongue, always discussing all their possibilities to get rid of their prisoners during parties and meetings on the main deck, voices loud enough to be heard by them both. Besides, the sailor was sure the crew wouldn’t stop themselves from making morbid remarks whenever Remy was called to ‘amuse’ them, even though the other refused to say anything to him when he was back, playing it off with some sarcastic sentences and ironic expressions.

(Emile attempted to be interesting one time, trying to pry their attention from Remy at all costs. His light-hearted efforts and humored puns were rewarded with nasty bruises and more chores to deal with. There were no sarcastic phrases that day.)

Still… It was the first time they talked about it out loud. Ignoring their eventful end made things more forgettable, easier to look away. But, now Emile was sure he wasn’t the only one sensing the impatience clouding and suffocating the air around them as the days went by.

Emile wished they had more time. “We’re not going to die and I’m not going to pray to Neptune. Not today.” Remy scoffed, yet listening. “I have a pink pearl with me, it can…” His sentence trailed off, his tired mind trying to find an easy way to explain his family situation. “Some spirits own me a favor.”

Emile had seen Remy’s eyes when he was dragged, barely conscious, to his prison for the first time. They were black and deep like the bottom of the Ocean, full of untold beauties and unseen mysteries. He could almost feel their glare on him.

“Do your spirits happen to be friends with the sea nymphs? The Thunder Damsels? Because that is the only fucking way we’re getting out of this.”

“They can help.” Emile stayed firm, trying to buckle their conversation out the way it was heading.

“Because…?”

“Remy, we don’t have much more time, please, give me the necklace.”

“Oh, of course, I am sorry for trying to know who my last possession is going to. What a bitch, am I right? Wait! Thinking better about it, why don’t we go up there and ask for the crew to help us? They’re full of gold, too!” He hissed. Because he couldn’t even shout out his irritation. Because it has been days since he last slept due his haunting nightmares, but the possibility of this being a dream freezes his blood and tights his throat. Because Emile’s hope was beginning to make its way to his soul and he knew how dangerous that could be.

“Ghosts, ok?! They are ghosts!”

Remy stared the wall in disbelief, seconds passing by. Emile closed his eyes.

“My stars, are you trusting our lives to haunting ghosts?” He barked a laugh, despair and astonishment dripping from his words.

But Emile didn’t laugh, seeming to shrink behind him.

So, Remy stopped, convincing himself that it was because of the coughing fit that hit him, molesting his dry throat, and not the soft heart he so fiercely denied to have.

Someone dropped a cup on the upper floor, curses immediately following suit. The sound made them both jump a few inches in the air, unable to stop the squirming, the shivering. The other’s whisper cut the silence.

“If you can’t trust me now, I don’t know when you will.”

Remy sighs, pressing their backs closer and lightly elbowing his ribs.

“Drop the pout, starfish.” As he got up, his chained hands maneuvered to grab his necklace from the hidden pocket on his boot, dropping it on the cold floor and carefully pushing it in Emile’s direction. “If this doesn’t work, I’m getting you back later.”

“Thank you.” The sailor’s smile only increased as Remy scoffed. Although, he didn’t have too much time to rest in the warm feeling blooming on his chest, quickly getting the pearl from his own hidden place. He gathered the two objects on his hands before sitting in front of a small hole he opened on the lower part of their cell, a glimpse of the ocean shining behind it.

Deep breaths. Ok. He could do this.

The well known chant sea flew from his mouth. It sounded like sunny afternoons and picnics, and nights embraced on the dimming dark, and soft hugs, and loud laughter with the feeling of freedom and dances around a wooden, crowned table. It was melodious, it was memories and his last shout of hope. His energy, his gratitude, his fear, his last chance, his last treasure, everything was offered.

The objects fell from his palms and were engulfed by the deep, incessant waves.

For a moment nothing happened and Remy regretted all his life choices, a not new habit of his, however at least this time he had a different reason, especially as Emile continued the tunes of that old song, apparently unfazed by the clear failure of his attempt.

Then Remy realized.

Besides his voice there was…quiet.

A life dedicated to explore and navigate the seven seas could be a lot of things. I could be dangerous, it could be difficult, lonely, adventurous, memorable, exhausting and even boring. But never quiet. There was always something. Always the melody of the waves carrying your ship, the wind slapping the sails, the mermaids whispering in your ears, a curse daunting your dreams… Silence could be present, but not for long and never as absolute.

But now…?

Now everything was quiet.

And that made a run shiver run across his spine, muscles tenses, instincts shouting. “Emile?”

The sailor didn’t respond, didn’t even stir as the temperature turned unbearably colder.

“Emile,” His dark eyes widened as his breath became visible in the air. “Emile, stop singing!”

“I already did.” He whispered, his stranger soft voice muffled, with something missing.

The ex captain noticed the truth behind his words as he concentrated. His senses could notice the melody coming from nowhere specific, echoing on the walls in a steady, patient pace.

A soft high pitched giggle cut the song. And, no, Remy did not shriek. Shut up.

“They’re here.” Emile’s voice was filled with something he couldn’t quite place, nor did have time as, in the middle of the room, a silhouette started to form, trembling and bending the light around it.

[...]

Aaron didn’t believe a lot of things, which, in itself, doesn’t mean that the amount of things he did believe was in any way whimsy.

Actually, he considered himself a very rational, plain figure. He believed in what he saw, touched and experienced. That is why he was on the nocturn security duty. His mind wasn’t easily fooled and his instincts were something he had plenty of capacity to control.

He prided himself on the moments of dinner and drinking, the hours of dawn when the crew would be a tad too drunk, playing and saying that, if any day Aaron stumbled on the feathered singer - because even on the fog of the rum, they knew best than say the name of the creatures out loud and pull bad luck onto their travel - he would be controlled enough to laugh at them, spit some curses and them navigate away while appreciating their nice melody in the background.

That was the memory which clawed on him as the mist involved the masts, swirling in a calm manner to the wooden floor, a whispering beginning to take over his eardrums. It was a song that made his bones ache and muscles tremble. He closed his hands on fists, nails tearing the epidermis to stay firm.

Even when a not-quite red, not-quite translucid figure appeared four feet away from him. Sitting in front a mesmerizing pitfire, carefully rocking the silver liquid in the golden chalice held firmly by his fingers, his lips parted, the chant pouring from them.

And the fire? The fire danced under his control, at each musical note it contorted and expanded, inch by inch, flame by flame. It got higher, vivid, swirling wound the translucid form who extended his hand and let the element run freely across his palm, petting it as if it was a domesticate, harmless animal.

The calm melody hit its climax, the high, vibrant note was prolonged, taking over the air, stealing all the attention and all the oxygen from the viewer.

He got up and the flames continued to travel from his hands through his body, burning his clothes which dissolved in brilliant ashes and left behind a gleaming trail of a completely new vestment being formed.

Under Aaron’s – mesmerized – attentive gaze long crimson sleeves involved his arms, crawling across his shoulders and leading the way to his chest, a warm white fabric shining under the moonlight, the fervent grooves that cut it in the form of limpid waves flowed through the petticoat from the gorgeous dress from the figure that couldn’t be named as translucid, anymore.

The song stopped.

The flames, much higher, much larger, raised like curtains behind the mysterious being, and his scarlet screaming eyes focused on Aaron, stealing his oxygen, again, and demanding – commanding him to show - every slight drop of his attention. His lips parted, one more time.

The song was back.

And he began to dance.

The fire accompanied the synchronized movements of his arms, also performing its own dance on the ship, spreading across the floor on the rhythm of his footsteps, sliding from the vestment’s veils and taking over all the space, climbing the ratlines, burning the masts, consuming the emergency boars and dancing together with the red figure and his frenetic melody, which overflowed and inundated everything around, attacking and drowning Aaron, who didn’t allowed his glare to deviated from the moves before him for one single second, all the others things being forgotten.

Beautiful. Everything was beautiful.

“And wouldn’t it be even more if you could dance with him?” A velvety voice – that wasn’t his – whispered on his mind in golden shades.

“Yes…” Aaron answered, hoarse. When did his throat get so dried like this? Why didn’t he realize it sooner? Why wasn't the oxygen coming back?

“Then go.” The gold thought was fast in cutting his line of thinking, leading him to focus one more time on the figure in front of him. “He will love to guide you through the steps.”

And Aaron agreed quickly, wondering how the other’s hands would feel under his touch. If they would be cold for his previous translucent state or hot just as the fire that accompanied him. He questioned himself if the flames would follow his pace, dancing with him, as well. He wanted. He wanted to be so beautiful like this. Maybe if he controlled the fire, maybe if he showed himself so skilled like this the being before him, he would be the one mesmerized. He would be the one to bow and to ask him for a dance.

He got closer and closer from the fire, extending his hand, about to pet it.

Perhaps…

A splitting pain spread like an explosion through the length of his arm and Aaron moved away with a scream, tears falling from his eyes with the painfully beat of his burned hand capturing all his senses, the song and dance disappearing from his mind.

And suddenly the frightened screams filled his eardrums. Sounds of pleas for help, of kicks and punches and wood crackling smacking him in an only one hit that destabilize the pirate, leaving him coughing and gasping and loud, so LOUD-

His eyes widened. Hot. Hot. Everything was burning. He was burning.

He wanted to scream. His throat was dry, but he needed to scream, needed to warn everyone, needed to-

“Rest.” The calm, velvety voice came back to his mind, offering peace, a safe space to where he could flee.

(An illusion made especially for him.)

However, he couldn’t. Everything was hot and burning and it shouldn’t be like that. He knew it shouldn’t be like that. This wasn’t normal. Wasn’t good. Screams. He also needed to scream. Because he was hot and the ship was hot and he was-

“-With a fever. You’re burning from sickness. Just a small fever isn’t something worth waking and alerting the others, right? You’re so clever, so strong, you sure can manage to ignore such futile, delirious dream alone. Maybe the rest of the crew wouldn’t be able to, but you’re braver. No one can ever fool you.”

Yes. This was true. He was intelligent, reasonable. That is why they always choose him to be on the night duty, because no one could do a better job than him.

A very known song begins to ask for his attention, one more time.

He can do it. He knows how to take care of the danger, so-

“-so there is no reason to worry, because there isn’t any danger here. It’s just a dream. A beautiful dream.”

His eyes rise and meet again with the dancer. Beautiful. So beautiful.

“Yes. That is true. Then why don’t you just relax and enjoy your wonderful, special dream?” The yellowish, velvet aura involves his body and suddenly the hotness stops to bother him, just like the ship dismantling in flames and the screams of help of the pirates locked on their rooms, terrified by the illusions taking form and life in the middle of the darkness.

The red eyes, for a second, focused on something behind Aaron, smiling, before finally sticking on his, the smile still on his expression as his hand went in his direction and rested on his forehead, a melodious tune following his acts.

“Sleep and dance on your dreams.”

And then everything disappeared in soot and ebano.

[...]

“Oh my stars!! Martin! It’s been so long!” Émile controlled himself to not laugh at Remy’s astonished expression – even if the shorter tried to hide it in a nonchalant behavior, - which proved itself to be simpler when the sky-blue ghost dashed until they were face to face, squeezing his cheeks and alternating between smiling at him and frowning at the number of old and new bruises that covered his skin. “You’re so tall now!! You kiddos grow up so fast!! Do these hurt? No worries! Roman, Remus and Janus are taking care of everything so we will be able to properly take care of you and your friend in a bit, okay? It’s been so much time since they saw you! I bet they also can’t wait to hear all the news!”

Picani stared deep into that shiny gaze, couldn’t help himself but smile back at Patton, a faint, almost erased memory of the blue figure helping him and his grandpa to make cookies in one of the docks they used to visit, they all whistling happily the known melody shining on the back of his mind. The memory was blurred, mostly consisting in laughter, songs and a warm feeling.

“Pat,” he gulped, mindless playing with the chains that locked his wrists on the walls of the cell, a frown in his face. Patton lightly hit the side of his own head, dislodging a bit his glasses’ frame, letting go of his face and heading to the keys poorly hanging on a rusty nail on the other side of the room.

(A constant reminder from the others of the freedom they could achieve if they only would be able to research the keys…)

“That is right, that is right!” He carried a happy aura on his steps, floating to them in a fast pace, unlocking their cell, kindly glancing at him and Remy, who eyed him for a few seconds before having his attention claimed by smoke descending from the cracks on their ceiling. “We should probably be heading out here just now!”

“Pat,” Emile tried again, holding his hand when the ghost freed him, ignoring the goosebumps running across his arms in a protest about the coldness of the other’s skin. His tune was careful. “I am Emile. Emile Picani. My dad gave me the pearl.” Patton’s smile faltered, a glint of understanding and something else taking over the gleam on his eyes. “It’s been twenty three years.”

“Oh,” he muttered, squeezing his hands back, eyes looking for something in his gaze. Something Emile couldn’t quite place. “oh, kiddo… I am sorry.”

Emile gave him a kind, sad smile.

“Me too.”

“You really grew up fast, didn’t you, kiddo?” Remy deviated his eyes from the scene, partly because the feeling of twist on his guts meant that he was probably intruding on a private moment and partly because his attention was again held by the sudden, growing hotness which didn’t cease to expand across the entirety of the ship. Muffled screams coming from all the places and nowhere at the same time. His body started to get absurdly antsy with adrenaline, sweat dripping from his forehead.

A flaming part of the ceiling fell in the middle of their cell, jolting the two from their conversation, the blue ghost blinking a few times at the flames.

“Ah.” He speeded his pace to free them from their cell, smoke and soot starting to paint and took over the air. “Well, guess this is our clue to get going!! Come on, come on! This way!”

“Fucking heck finally.” Remy only didn’t shout his displeasure due how hurt his throat was, however he made it sure his voice wasn’t low enough so the others wouldn’t be able to notice, even though none of them opted to point his reaction, deciding instead to nearly dash through the doors and stairs of the ship until finally arrive at the handrails, ignoring the way flames danced and deviated from them, a red figure smiling brightly at Patton’s direction when he waved, yellow eyes from another golden person staring them as if he could read their souls.

Remy ignored both as another ship arrived, medium size, well conserved and barely noticeable, his eyes feeling the urge to look at everywhere except it every time he tried to concentrate his efforts to capture all the details, but he kept himself firm, noticing how it doesn’t own any visible treasure, the only thing more catching being the navy fog covering all its extent, flowing in abundance from the form in the main deck, his hands moving with precise, fast gestures.

A dark purple ghost popped from absolutely nothing in front of them, inquisitive, wary glare.

Remy narrowed his eyes back, his guts screaming to not trust the wooden board thrown at their current position, making a not very secure path from one ship to another. The purple being smirked at his expression.

“V! We’re back.”

“Good. The princey and the snake right there are almost over and Logan is growing restless. Remus is already on his room, resting.” His face lost its softness when he stared right back at the humans. “Get in. Fast.”

Emile nodded, wanting nothing more than to leave this nightmare and maybe get a good night of sleep, but his arm was held in a warm, firm – yet gentle – grip.

“Is that bitch even safe?”

V’s smirk grew. “Define ‘safe’.”

“Things that I can touch and embark without fucking dying.”

“Death is inevitable,” the purple – V, as it seems, looked smug with his words, - any choice is just a pathway to this end.”

“I’m going to fucking show him the pathway.”

“Remy, please no.” Emile sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Think I can’t punch a motherfucker ghost? Fight me.”

“I know you can’t. Bring it on.”

“Virgil.”

“Remy.”

Patton and Emile said at the same time, with the same hard tone that made both of them deflate in a very similar way, still glaring dangerously at each other, but clearly putting more physical space between them. Emile patted the ex-captain hands, warm eyes.

“Can you go first so I can hold on your cape? My balance is not very good.” Because he realized, somewhat, how he was trembling and that holding him was the one thing assuring Remy that none of this was just another crazy dream.

He gulped, then nodded, his usual snarky remark already falling.

“If I die, no offer will get me out of your back.”

“Noted.” The sailor replied, chuckling lowly.

And then they both walked to their first of many future nights, after so many tears and tears, of being able to watch the stars and feel the sea’s breeze.

Safe.

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emy-loves-you · 4 years

Text

Baking’s Not As Simple As Chemistry

Pairing: Logicality

Word Count: 1,653

Summary: Logan tries to buy a cake for Patton’s birthday, but the bakery he always goes to is closed. He decides to bake it himself. Baking’s just a form of chemistry, right? How hard could it be? Logan POV

Masterlist

Logan was incredibly tired.

It was currently 8 PM on a Friday night and Logan wanted nothing more than to relax at home with his favorite blanket and a good documentary. He had to stay in late at work because his new coworker was incompetent and had no idea of how to do his job-

Logan shook his head, focusing on the road ahead of him. Being angry will get you nowhere, Patton had always said, try and channel it somewhere else.

Logan smiled as he thought about his boyfriend of almost a year. Patton was perfect in every way that Logan wasn’t; adorable, funny, emotionally and socially intelligent, you name it. They’d known each other since high school, having met through their mutual friends. Patton had latched onto him since day one and promised to never let go. And he never did. They were the best of friends and danced around their romantic feelings for years. It took forever for the two of them to confess, mainly because of Patton’s low self-esteem and Logan’s difficulty to express his emotions. But ten months ago they had confessed to each other and everything had become significantly better since.

Well, everything non-work related, Logan thought bitterly. Logan was a chemistry teacher at the local high school and Patton worked as a child therapist with his cousin Emile. It was stressful, mainly because they didn’t live together so they only saw each other on lunch breaks and weekends. But it was worth it, seeing the way Patton’s face lit up every time they saw each other.

Logan frowned as he heard his phone go off. It was the random chime that served to notify him of an event scheduled 12 hours from now. But he didn’t remember anything being scheduled for 8 AM tomorrow. Logan pulled into the nearest gas station and turned on his phone, reading his notification.

Saturday 8AM: Patton’s birthday

Logan groaned, facepalming. He’d been so busy this week that he’d completely forgotten about Patton’s birthday!

He shook his head. He needed to concentrate. Patton didn’t like large parties or anything, and he would probably just want to spend the day watching movies at Logan’s house. Which was fine; he just had to make sure the house was cleaned before Patton arrived tomorrow morning. His gift was already wrapped and hidden in the top of Logan’s closet, so all that was left was the cake-

The cake! Logan quickly unlocked his phone, searching up the bakery he always went to for Patton’s cake. They made a special handmade red velvet cake that Patton loved, but if Logan remembered correctly…

Logan groaned, staring dejectedly at the small screen. It closed 30 minutes ago and won’t be open again until Monday. What am I supposed to do now? He couldn’t have Patton show up tomorrow and not have a cake for him. And Patton didn’t like most store-bought cakes and cake-mixes, preferring to make cakes from scratch instead-

That’s it! He quickly started typing again, searching up red velvet cake recipes. I’ll just make Patton a cake from scratch! It says that it should take less than an hour, and the instructions look simple enough. Besides, baking is just another form of chemistry. And I’m a chemistry teacher for Newton’s sake! How difficult could it possibly be?

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Logan analyzed the carefully sorted ingredients in front of him. He’d bought all of the ingredients last night and decided to get a good night’s rest before getting up early the next morning to begin baking. It was 6:38 AM at the moment, and Patton wasn’t scheduled to come over until 8 AM. That should be enough time to bake the cake, tidy up the house, decorate the cake, and get dressed. He tugged his phone out of the apron he wore over his pajamas (another item he purchased last night, it was navy blue with the standard ‘Kiss the Cook’ written in white. He hoped that Patton liked it) and pulled up the recipe. He started by carefully measuring out each ingredient that he would need, putting the excess ingredients away. He then preheated the oven and greased the pan before turning to his bowl. The first step seemed simple enough: combine butter and sugar. The butter was still cold so it was difficult, but he eventually had an interesting butter-egg mixture. The second step was a bit trickier: add eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. This wouldn’t be a difficult step for someone who’s cracked an egg before.

Logan, unfortunately, is not one of those people.

At first, he tried it the way he’d seen people on the baking channels that Patton watched do it; he held the egg in one hand and attempted to crack it open with the pressure from his thumb, hopefully splitting the shell open down the middle.

He ended up with a handful of crushed egg.

After he cleaned that up, he tried the method he remembered his mother doing when he was little: cracking the egg on the edge of the counter and sticking his thumb into the newly-made crack to split it open easier. He lightly tapped the egg against the counter and frowned when nothing happened. Perhaps I need to add more force? He tapped it harder against the counter, but it still didn’t crack. He growled with impatience and hit it harder against the counter.

Well great, he thought as he stared at the egg yolk all over the counter. I have performed extremely dangerous experiments with higher precision than most people could ever dream of, yet I am being outsmarted by a chicken egg.

Several tries later (and several minutes of picking eggshells out of the bowl) Logan was finally making decent progress. He carefully added the premeasured ingredients, making sure not to spill any as he worked. He carefully poured the final batter into a pan and stuck it in the oven. He then set a timer for 30 minutes and checked the time. 7:02 AM. That took much longer than expected.

He spent the next half hour picking up the house, trying to make everything perfect for his boyfriend. He piled all of his blankets and pillows onto his bed, set aside a stack of movies for them to watch, and cleaned up the dirty clothes and take-out containers that had built up over the week.

As soon as the timer went off Logan rushed to the kitchen, taking the cake out and putting it on an empty burner to cool. While it was cooling he turned to the pot on another burner, setting out to make some homemade icing. He added the ingredients and turned on the stove, stirring consistently as instructed. It was supposed to gain a pudding-like consistency, but sadly it stayed more like soup.

Maybe it’ll change consistency once I add the rest of the ingredients. He turned off the heat and poured it into a metal bowl, adding the rest of the ingredients as instructed. He was technically supposed to use a stand mixer but he didn’t have one, so Logan did his best to hand stir it. He frowned when the consistency didn’t change much.

Knock knock knock

Logan gasped and looked up at the clock. 8:04 AM. Have I really spent so much time baking? There was another set of knocking and Logan rushed to answer the door. Patton stood there shocked, and it took Logan a moment to realize why. His hair was probably a mess, and he was still wearing his pajamas and apron (which were now covered in baking ingredients). “Oh.”

Patton stared for another moment before bursting into giggles. Logan chuckled along with him, blushing in embarrassment. It took Patton several moments to calm down, clutching his stomach as he shook with silent giggles. Once he finally caught his breath Patton gestured to the apron. “Is that permission?”

Logan looked down at the stained ‘Kiss the Cook’ and nodded. He sighed happily as Patton’s lips pressed against his. He melted into the kiss, biting back a whine when Patton pulled away. He awkwardly adjusted his glasses while he cleared his throat. “Uhm, happy birthday Patton.”

Patton smiled brightly, clapping his hands together. “Thanks, Lo!” He eyes Logan’s clothes again, undisguised mirth in his eyes. “So, what’s with the apron?”

Logan blushed, silently grabbing Patton’s hand and leading him to the kitchen. He gestured to the confectionaries before putting his head in his hands. Patton scooped some icing with his finger, watching curiously as it dripped off his finger, appearing more like milk than icing. He looked over at the cake and winced. The middle had caved in, making a little red crater. Patton stuck a knife into the middle and showed Logan the batter covered knife. "You're supposed to check to make sure that the cake's cooked all the way through before taking it out of the oven." He gestured to the cake. "So, what's with the baking?"

Logan hung his head low, unable to meet Patton's gaze. "I forgot to buy you the red velvet cake that I get every year at the bakery, so I tried to make you one myself.” Everything was silent for several moments, and every second flooded Logan with even more doubt and shame, the pressure in his chest expanding like a balloon until-

He nearly flinched when a cool hand touched his cheek. He looked up to see Patton smiling softly. “Oh Sweety, you didn’t have to do all that. Just knowing that you care is enough for me.” He kissed Logan on the lips, and Logan felt all of his worries melt away. Eventually Patton pulled away and tugged on Logan’s hand. “Why don’t we go watch some movies, and maybe later I’ll teach you how to bake a cake, alright?”

Logan smiled, following him to the bedroom.

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Taglist: @bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess @arodynamic-enby @sanderssides-angst

#sanders sides fic #logicality #logan sanders #patton sanders

44 notes · View notes

sanderssidesfanfiction · 3 years

Text

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Eighty Six

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

March 4th, 2003

Emile looked at the ring the jeweller had brought out for him to inspect. It was a little understated, just a silver band, no diamonds or other gems or even a stone put in. “Are you sure this is the one you want?” the jeweller asked. “I know you have the money, Mister Thomas, and most girls, even if they don’t say anything, prefer something they can show off to their friends...”

“It’s perfect,” Emile said, nodding at the jeweller. “Don’t worry. I know my future fiancé, he’ll love it.”

“Of course, I didn’t mean to imply...”

“Don’t worry about it,” Emile said with a kind smile. “My guy’s just that sort of special. Ring this up and we’ll be good to go.”

May 5th, 2003

Emile was absolutely certain that if Remy weren’t so stressed, he would propose right here and now, just to try and capture the perfect smile on Remy’s face for the entire rest of the day. Remy had opened the doors of Sleep Easy that morning to find a line that was wrapping around the block and the relieved grin he had on his face as he told everyone working there to get ready was something Emile would never forget.

Toby had taken a couple pictures before Remy went back behind the counter to help out, and Emile felt at the ring box in his pocket. He wanted to ask regardless of stress, but he needed to find a quiet moment.

Emile and Toby were currently sitting in the back of the shop, at one of the tables. Emile was fiddling with his hands and glancing at Remy periodically. Toby sighed and propped his head up on one of his hands. “Okay, Emile, spill the beans. What’s got you so worked up?”

Glancing at Toby before going back to look at Remy, Emile shook his head. “It’s nothing,” he said absentmindedly.

“Either you tell me what’s up or I call Remy over here,” Toby threatened. “Because you’re looking at him like he has a bomb strapped to his chest.”

Emile tore his eyes away from Remy long enough to check if Toby was serious. And he was. “You have to promise not to tell Remy,” Emile said.

Toby gave him a look. “You don’t have a ring box, do you?” he joked.

Emile sighed and pulled out the small box from his pocket, placing it on the table. “Wait, no, I was joking!” Toby exclaimed in a hushed whisper. “Oh my god, you seriously have a ring?! Are you planning on asking him today?”

“Potentially, if there’s a quiet moment,” Emile said. “But I’m starting to suspect there won’t be.”

“Yeah, no, people just keep coming,” Toby said, eyeing the front door. “If I were you, I’d wait for a moment where Remy isn’t serving customers,” he said. “Maybe propose tonight, after the shop closes, if you do it today.”

Emile glanced over at Remy, who was talking to a woman intently over a display of cookies. “Seriously?!” Remy exclaimed, loud enough to capture both Emile’s and Toby’s attention.

The woman laughed and nodded. She passed him a card which Remy eagerly pocketed and shook the woman’s hand. Emile and Toby glanced at each other. “What was that about?” Toby asked.

“I have absolutely no idea,” Emile said.

Remy came over to the two of them, and Emile quickly hid the ring box back in his pocket. Remy, with a massive grin, slammed his hands on the table. “Do you guys know who that was?!” he exclaimed.

“No?” Toby said. “Enlighten us?”

“She’s a reporter for the local paper,” Remy said in an almost-conspiratorial whisper. “And all the commotion from today caught her eye. She said that if I can keep interest for the rest of the month, she’ll do an exposé on the shop!”

Emile blinked, before breaking into a grin. “That’s amazing, Rem! I’m so proud of you!”

Remy beamed.

“Emile took the words right out of my mouth,” Toby said. “I have no doubt that article will happen. Who knows, maybe it’ll lead to more business and happier roads ahead!”

Toby glanced at Emile and Emile instantly got the meaning: save the proposal for the interview. And Emile couldn’t agree more with that sentiment. That would be the perfect timing, if there was one.

“Oh my god, if they ask me anything about my personal life, what do I say?” Remy asked, laughing. “I mean, I don’t think I should hide that I’m gay, but like...I pay a mortgage with Emile. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that we’re together.”

“I think you should be honest, Rem,” Emile said. “I mean, anyone who’d boycott the shop because of you being gay isn’t someone I’d want in my corner anyway.”

“True,” Remy hummed. “Okay. I’ll be honest. The shop shouldn’t go under because of it, most of the people here are open-minded. It’s a college town, after all.”

“It’s a college town, you’re an amazing person, and you make a mean cuppa joe,” Toby said, sipping at his coffee with a grin. “There’s no way you could scare off all the homophobes into ruining business for you.”

Remy nodded, smiling. “Thanks for being here, both of you,” he said. “It means the world to me.”

“Nowhere we’d rather be, Rem,” Toby said, and Emile agreed.

“Remy! We need you back here!” August called.

“That’s my cue,” Remy laughed, hugging Toby and kissing Emile’s cheek. “Talk to the two of you later.”

“Later,” Emile parrotted as Remy went back to the counter. “I’m definitely proposing during the interview,” he told Toby.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Remy tried the same thing. He’s that extra,” Toby laughed.

“You know, you’re right, and I hate that you’re right,” Emile laughed. “We’ll wind up proposing at the same time, most likely.”

“He’s planning his own proposal?” Toby asked. “You guys didn’t agree that one of you would do it and leave it at that?”

“We made it a competition,” Emile laughed. “Loser has to kiss the winner.”

“How do you know who loses and who wins?” Toby asked.

Emile paused. “You know, I’m not sure we ever clarified how one of us would win when both of us are very clearly biased,” he admitted.

Toby laughed. “Oh, god. You two are both disasters. Like, I love you, of course, but you’re both disasters.”’

“Of course we are. To quote Remy, ‘If we weren’t such disasters we would have overthrown God long ago.’”

Toby cracked up. “Man, as a guy who’s still religious I’m inclined to agree with you. The two of you are unstoppable.”

“Throw in all the other gay disasters we know and it would be no contest,” Emile snickered. “God, Theo would love to overthrow a major religion like that. I’m pretty sure Clara would fret over us and make sure to bring victory snacks, Xavier would welcome our new gay overlords...it would be quite the sight.”

“Let me know when it happens, because I very much want in on the being a priest to you guys,” Toby laughed.

Emile snickered. “Oh, we’re both going to Hell.”

“No doubt,” Toby agreed.

They looked over to where Remy was working, and Emile sighed. “I do worry about him, though. He works hard, but there are days where I know he’d rather relax but can’t.”

“A tip that helped me in the old days with that: warm chocolate milk,” Toby said. “Don’t know how well it’ll work for you, but it always conked him out as a child. Now, it might not make him sleep, but it would at least be a bit of nostalgia.”

“That’s adorable,” Emile said, grinning.

“There were times where he wouldn’t even accept it from Mom or Dad because ‘Toby makes it the bestest,’” Toby said with a grin. “I love my little brother to the ends of the earth, but I suspect he loves me more.”

“He finds people who love him and he never lets them go,” Emile said with a sad smile. “I wish the reason he did that wasn’t there, but then again, without everything he went through, he wouldn’t be the man he is today.”

Toby furrowed his brows and Emile winced. “Uh, he doesn’t let go of people who love him because he’s worried that if he does they’ll just leave him when they get bored. So he works to make sure they’re never bored of him.”

“Oh,” Toby said. It was strangled, and there was so much shock and anger in that one syllable. “I would strangle our parents if I could get away with it.”

“Make sure they don’t have any more kids and we’ll call it a day,” Emile laughed awkwardly.

“God, I hope they don’t screw up as grandparents,” Toby breathed. “Like. I don’t intend on being a dad. But Vanessa...wants kids. She’s wanted kids since she was a kid. And if they ever have to stay at their grandparents’...well, I’d rather take them for a night than leave them there.”

“Frankly? I don’t blame you,” Emile said.

“You’ve met them, haven’t you?” Toby asked.

“I’ve met your mother, and frankly, I don’t even need to meet your father to understand the bulk of Remy’s trauma, and yours,” Emile said simply.

“M... my trauma?” Toby asked.

“They hurt you too, Toby,” Emile said. “That qualifies as trauma.”

“Oh,” Toby said, leaning back in his seat. “It’s different when it’s someone else. Like, yeah, Remy got really hurt by them, so I don’t blame him for using the term. But knowing that the term applies to me is...different.”

“It’s more personal,” Emile filled in. “And it’s scary. But it’s something that can definitely be worked on.”

“At least there’s hope,” Toby said with a weak smile.

“Exactly,” Emile said, pointing at Toby with a grin. “And if you ever need any recommendations for looking for a therapist, hit me up. I’ll see what I can do.”

“I might have to take you up on that,” Toby said with a shaky breath. “The holidays are a massive...what did you call it? A massive stressor. But I could probably find a use for one outside the holidays, too.”

Emile nodded. “At least you recognize it. Remy’s been really stressed lately but seems determined to stick it out on his own. I worry about him more because of that.”

Toby shrugged. “Sometimes he needs time to come around to a concept. Give him that time, and if you ever need help, drop me a line. I know how to talk to him too.”

“Do you ever use rationality on him, and does he get that grumpy almost-pout when you do it?” Emile asked with a knowing grin.

“Oh my god, yes!” Toby laughed. “And then he comes up with worst-case scenarios that both of you know wouldn’t happen, just out of stubborn spite at the fact you’re using logic?”

“And forces you to come up with a plan for what happens if you fall into a pit of invisible snakes!” Emile continued. “Oh yeah, we’ve had those talks.”

“God, I love him,” Toby said, shaking his head fondly. “Of course, to you, that scenario probably just indicates how much of an anxiety disorder he has.”

“I try not to diagnose people I know,” Emile said. “Not only because I don’t have my degree yet, but because my emotions can get in the way of a diagnosis if I get too close.”

“That’s smart,” Toby said.

“That’s therapists’ standards,” Emile said simply.

The two of them sat in companionable silence for a minute, before Toby spoke again. “I really worry about him, all jokes aside. Like, we can go for months without talking and pick up where we left off, but...those months in between when he doesn’t talk to me...they can get scary.”

“I know what you mean,” Emile sighed. “There are nights where I wake up with cold sweats from nightmares that Remy never dropped out of college and I went to his room one day to see that he’d hung himself. Fortunately, I wake up next to him to know he’s alive. I know you don’t have that luxury.”

Toby shook his head. “That’s when I usually call first thing the next morning...on the bad days. I can never get back to sleep but I wait until it’s seven before I call because I know you guys have sleep to catch up on. You don’t need to listen to my crazed, nightmare-induced ramblings.”

“I’d listen,” Emile said.

“Really?” Toby asked skeptically.

“Of course,” Emile said, turning to look at Remy, serving coffee with the biggest grin on his face as the customer complimented the store. “That’s what family does for each other.”

#if there's a place i could be #sanders sides fanfiction #remile #emile picani #ts sleep

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things-we-used-tc-share · 3 years

Text

The Town That Never Was

[Image Description: a long road with decaying plants on either side, with text overlayed that reads ‘the town that never was’ in white. A white icon of a clock is placed underneath the text /end ID]

I’m re-releasing the first four chapters as I’ve edited them!

Ships: DLAMP/CALMD, Remile.

Warnings: Cheating is mentioned at some point during this fic in the past, some slight horror themes but in a comedic sort of way, kidnapping is mentioned but again this is like a comedy-horror so there’s not a lot of suspense.

Plot: In Hell, a town of roughly 1,000 people, nothing that is supposed to happen ever happens and everything that physically should happen, does. Logan, a scientist, goes there in hopes of studying the world’s most unfortunate, and miraculous, town. But no one who ever enters ever finds the will to leave again.

Chapter One: The man who can see everything, and the scientist from normality.

Logan has a habit that mostly includes acting first and thinking about his safety a few hours later, usually when he has a burned hand or a broken bone, and then it’s followed by a “worth it!” as he accepts his own recklessness in favour of science. Today is one of those reckless days. Well, so far it’s been a reckless week (and a reckless life), as he’s been driving for about four days now.

He sees the “Welcome to Hell,” sign that has been overgrown by an abundance of tree roots despite the fact there are no trees for miles. The blue-eyed scientist sighs to himself absently as he gets the foreboding feeling that the next week of his life, should things go the way he planned, is going to be a series of these events and as it stands he has been driving far too long to hop out of his car near sunset to run tests on tree roots that should not exist.

The sun is, by the way, setting far too early for this time of year.

As he gets within the town’s boundaries, his car radio fizzles and automatically tunes into the suddenly only available radio station; Logan assumes this is harmless and simply listens to the soft indie beats that are now playing with no issue. The sky; where the sun is setting, is painted in a brilliant red, whilst the sun itself looks to be a somewhat magnificent ball of fire (which, of course, it is, but it doesn’t usually look literally as a ball of fire, you know, the kind when some idiot in class decides to bring a lighter to school and sets the waste paper bin on fire? yeah, that sort of fire). There are tall, black pylons everywhere, and the buildings seem old and are either wooden or Greek, which is interesting because as far as Logan knows, the ancient Greeks never quite got to America, yet these buildings certainly seem very old. Impossibly old.

He already has an infinitesimal amount of questions, and he’s aware that (as warned) that small pile is going to grow over the course of his stay here.

The music stops playing and a voice tunes in over the static waves of the radio “Welcome back listeners,” The dulcet, deep tones rumble against Logan’s ears and if voices could be a point of attraction then Logan would say this is an attractive voice. “A special welcome to the mildly ominous white economical car that just rolled into town full of what appears to be an impressive amount of science equipment, I don’t know who you are but you are apparently quite handsome, so I’m certainly hoping I’ll know you at some point,” Logan flushes a little and as if the radio presenter could see him, he chuckles. “We’ll run into each other, anyway, to the regular listeners this is your usual news on the town,”

Logan pulls up outside the place he had booked to stay but as he turns off the car he can’t help but lean back to listen to the radio presenter some more. “The sun is on fire, but more so than usual, the police advise you don’t look directly into it, or do, I’m not the boss of you and you can make your own decisions for yourself,” Logan snorts a little, shaking his head full of dark curls “Three strange cult-like figures have appeared in the outskirts of the town, on the west side entrance, they don’t appear to be doing anything but simply standing there, if someone has recently attempted to summon a demon or any otherwise ominous presence, please report it to Roman, our town’s exorcist who will help you deal with this problem, unfortunately until he knows exactly what they are, there is nothing he can do to help, thank you Roman, for being as useless as ever,”

The scientist laughs then and finally turns off the radio, grabbing his bag out of the back amongst a whole load of gadgets as he walks up to the front door. He can hear voices on the other side before the front door is thrown open extravagantly to reveal a young man with unruly dirty blonde curls. Logan, who hadn’t even knocked yet, blinks with a perturbed expression “Hello?”

“Hello!” The stranger replies with a smile a little too wide and hazel eyes a little too bright. “Don’t mind Remy, he turns into a cat when he’s anxious, but come on in!” Logan exhales deeply, cheeks puffing out as he shakes his head. “Oh yes, you’re an outsider, you’re probably not used to Hell standards of weird, sorry,” The man picks up the cat and places him on top of the counter before he moves around the other side “You’re staying for a week, yes?”

“That’s the plan,” Logan chuckles “...but I’m told plans don’t tend to work out here.”

“Oh no, they never do, all rooms are booked for at least a month just in case, I’ve added a few extra days on free of charge, we don’t tend to get many visitors so I doubt they’ll go amiss,” The man scans a keycard through the computer system, it fizzes slightly and he hits the side of it before trying again. “There you go, you’re in room 13,” He hands the keycard over “...and if you need me just ring,” he taps the phone “Phone number is on the bedside table.”

“Thank you....?”

“Oh! Emile, I’m Emile, that’s Remy, he’s not a cat, he just looks like one right now,” Remy blinks two wide golden eyes at Logan, he does certainly look like a cat. “He should be back to normal when he’s finished having a tantrum.” Remy hisses in response. “Have a nice night!”

Logan decides that he’s already reaching his limit with weird and he’s only been here maybe half an hour, although his watch has also mysteriously stopped working so there’s no real way to tell. He puts on his pyjamas, climbs into bed and tries to fall asleep.

It takes him an hour and a half to do so. Roughly.

When he wakes up the next morning, and finishes going through the usual human morning routine, he wanders downstairs to find a man who isn’t Emile sat on the chair behind the desk with headphones on. His name tag read “Remy,” and he’s wearing sunglasses inside. Otherwise he’s completely normal; a worn down leather jacket accompanying a black shirt and ripped jeans, hanging off a man who is of normal height and stature for someone in his early 20′s.

“Sorry about being a cat when you got here,” Remy pulls an earphone out to speak, chewing on bubblegum as he does “...me and Emile were having a domestic, how is your room?”

“Adequate,” Logan replies, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “So the turning into a cat thing is that...genetic?” Remy laughs a little and shakes his head.

“In what world would that be genetic?” He kicks his feet off of the table and sits up a little straighter “No, it was a curse.” Logan nods slowly, wondering why one is less likely than the other, and then thinking that he doesn’t want to know why because then he would start thinking like a resident here, and that sounds like a nightmare. “We do have an exorcist, and he’s supposed to really be able to dabble in lots of different type of magic, but so far he’s been unsuccessful.”

The dark-haired scientist recalls the radio presenter from last night “Roman, right?” Remy nods in response.

The door opens then to let in a bright array of sunshine, and Remy scrunches his nose up in distaste, pushing his sunglasses even further up his nose as if that might have been possible. The man that is silhouetted against the door frame looks too bright, but as he speaks, Logan recognises the deep and soothing tone “Good morning, stranger.”

The door closes behind him and the man leans against the wall with a wide grin. His skin is tan, a caramel colour with light blonde hair that has been pushed to the side and back, exposing two-toned golden snake eyes. Logan is starting to regret his journey and coming here at all, and he is certainly not enjoying the way his own heart thunders in his chest, or the slight warmth to his cheeks. Perhaps it’s the sharp angles of the man’s jaw, the snakeskin that covers half of his face, or the gentle radiant glow this man has, but he is...astoundingly beautiful.

Weird shit, Logan can deal with, feelings? Not at all.

“Welcome to Hell, literally, that’s the name of this place. America’s most singularly, scientifically fucked town, where everything that shouldn’t happen, definitely does happen,” The man grins, dark eyes blinking. Logan blinks back, opens his mouth, and then decides he doesn’t have any words in his extensive vocabulary to explain this. “What brings such a handsome young man to the town?”

“Science,” Logan mutters. “I came to investigate the town, scientifically this place is fascinating, a hive of energy that exists nowhere else.” He straightens his lab coat and holds up a device that had been in his hand. “So far I’ve discovered extremely unusual readings, and...” Logan talks, he explains, and the stranger looks at him with an incredibly dopey look.

“Uh-huh,” he mutters as the scientist talks extremely enigmatically, all strangeness and shyness are forgotten as he loses himself in his interest.

“Sorry, I didn’t ask what your name was, I don’t think I caught it last night.” The tan-skinned man smiles softly before shaking his head.

“You didn’t,” Logan doesn’t know how he knows this. “My name is Deceit, but most people call me Dee, I run the radio show,” The scientist smiles and nods, offering a hand for him to shake. Deceit practically purred at the contact to his gloved hand; he can’t help it when someone so pretty comes wandering in, all fair skin and dark hair with such...enticing cobalt eyes, he has to blush a little.

But the moment of bliss is interrupted as the door opens again, slamming behind the second newcomer of the morning. Remy, who clearly does not like having visitors, sighs in annoyance and looks up to a dark-skinned man with long hair and is..dripping in jewellery. The man is holding a book in his hand and he goes to speak before he looks up, only to see Deceit (in which his gaze turns sour) and then Logan (in which his eyebrow quirks, a slow smirk crosses his face and the book snaps shut in his hand). “Remy,” The stranger has an accent that sounded to be somewhat partially American. “You have a visitor?”

The cat-like man sighs. “It would appear I have quite a few,” he unplugs the other earphone and tosses them on the table “What do you want, Roman? I told you at this point this curse isn’t that bad, plus Emile finds it harder to shout at me when I’m knee-high to a grasshopper and fluffy,”

That would be some sound logic, Logan thinks to himself, ...if he were not talking about turning into a cat. “That’s fine, there is clearly someone much more interesting to talk to,” The elegant man holds out a hand and wears a grin that is almost a little too revealing. 29 years of not being flirted with and today it happens twice one straight after another.

“As if your two boyfriends weren’t enough Roman, you hop on the poor fresh meat like he’s dessert,” Deceit cuts in, a displeased look on his face as he folds his arms across his chest.

“He certainly looks like dessert,” Roman retorts. Logan thinks blushing is going to become a hobby whilst he’s here and looks over at Remy for help.

“Dee, don’t you have a radio show to host? Roman, don’t you have a demon to maintain? Logan I have no idea what you’re here to do but I’m sure it’s more than being the ruler in a dick-measuring contest between two insufferable assholes.” There’s a beat. Roman has the audacity to blush as if he hadn’t been saying some fairly explicit things by Logan’s standards, but a moment ago.

“Oh well, I’m here too...”

“Logan, dear, you’re cute, but I spent an entire night as a cat, and my better half, who is, by the way, all of my patience and will to listen to other people, is at work, right now I’m as bitchy as I can get, please don’t try and explain to me science unless it’s the science of how to make a coffee so strong my heart will stop...” Remy’s glasses slide down his nose, revealing two bright gold cats eyes, and they narrow as they stare at Logan. “All of you, out.”

“I’ll bring you a coffee, Rem,” Roman mutters as he starts towards the door.

“Thanks, Roman.” He doesn’t sound very thankful at all.

Roman offers to show Logan around town, he asks about the device in the scientist’s hand but anything he says is completely lost on the bejewelled man. Who is, by the way, wearing a lot of jewellery. His hands are covered in rings that have thin chains hanging from them, connecting to bracelets or each other. His nose, lip and eyebrows are pierced twice and the entire left side of his ear has small chains hanging off of them.

He looks like a prince.

“This is the coffee shop, my boyfriends both work here, and they live upstairs too, fair warning, one of them is a demon,” Logan nods a little numbly, unsure what else he was expecting really. Does anything normal happen in this town at all?

They walk in to see a scrawny and sickly pale man behind the counter, to the point where Logan would worry about anaemia until he saw the veins that were completely onyx running underneath the skin. The demon, then. “Welcome to Hell’s Pat-isserie, what may I get you?” His voice sounds bored, but then he looks up and sees Roman and his face lights up.

“Just a latte please,” Logan smiles nervously.

“That will be the cost of your soul please,” The demon’s voice darkens and shakes like lightning, Logan has to admit he felt a slight spike of fear before both the pale man and Roman start laughing.

“Virgil I keep telling you to stop doing that!” Logan looks up at the sound of a new voice, only to inhale sharply by what he’s greeted with. A man, with soft, freckled cheeks and a round face that has so clearly smiled so much, bounces up with stray blonde curls falling around his face. He bats a tea towel at the demon (Virgil, Logan assumes), before fixing Logan with a wide and blinding smile.

Blushing is indeed becoming a hobby.

“Roman, you’re late, help me with the coffee machine won’t you love? It’s jammed again the stupid bloody thing.” The man’s voice is as soft as his appearance dictates, and he hands the tea towel to Roman, who vaults over the counter to help. Then his attention focuses on Logan and he’s not entirely sure his heart can handle those pale blue eyes. “Sorry about these two, they’re a handful, just a latte was it? That’ll be $3.50,” Logan hands over the money with a dazed expression. As he’s handed his change, he can’t resist asking.

“What’s your name?”

“Patton, you?”

“Logan.” Patton smiles again, and Logan can’t help but liken it to the first flowers blooming in spring, and other cheesy metaphors that people come up with when they think about love at first sight.

“Well, Logan, take a seat, and we’ll bring your coffee over shortly,” A pause “...and thanks for keeping Roman out of trouble, it’s practically his day job,”

The scientist can’t help but absently think he’d hold back an inconclusive amount of danger to see Patton smile again. Then he reminds himself that he has a job to do; even if the rate of his own heart around these men is the strangest thing that has happened to him since he arrived in Hell. He can't afford diversions.

#ts sides #ts sides fic #CALMD #dlamp #CALMD/DLAMP

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redstainedsocks · 4 years

Text

The Break-in; Aftermath

I decided to come back and write a comfort piece set a couple of weeks after the break-in story line, and here it finally is! It’s not my most favourite piece of writing ever, but it’s soft, and sweet, and developed plotty feelings, and I have something worth celebrating today so I decided to do that by doing a quicker-than-usual-edit and post this up for happy feels! Who’s ready for some hurt/comfort?!

Warnings: Box boy universe, general dehumanzation (for the ‘verse), referenced violence, referenced beatings, injuries (head injury, broken ribs, broken fingers), self-blame, scared and confused headspace

Tag list: @haro-whumps, @theycomeinthrees, @whumpthisway, @samanddeaninpanties, @teachunks, @draganies, @pepperonyscience, @whump-it, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @untilthepainstarts, @galaxywhump, @kiretto-laorentze, @lonesome--hunter @slaintetowhump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @still-an-asshole

Kit hadn’t seen anyone in nearly two weeks. No-one but Emile and the store pets. He was mostly confined to bed—and still the actual bed, not just his mattress on the floor. Emile insisted he rested, he was forbidden from anything strenuous or taxing, only allowed him to help with small tasks at the end of the day,

He’d never known such luxury. If it weren’t for the broken bones and deep tissue bruising he might have melted away at being given such time to relax. As it was, mostly he just focused on dragging breath into his lungs past the stabbing ache in his ribs.

He was bored too, and on edge. Nothing felt as safe as it had. He tried to let it go, Emile said he was taking care of it. New security systems had been installed, and all the windows replaced with stronger glass. His body remembered though—the feeling of fists and feet, the kicks and punches and heavy handed shoves. His body remembered being beaten, but more than that it remembered losing his charges to the whims of people who didn’t have their best interests at heart.

So he wasn’t sleeping well, food sat heavy in his stomach, and he had no way to work off his restless energy without earning a glare from Emile and cutting remarks about needing to recover more quickly. And that was his other concern—that as soon as he was declared fit and healthy again Emile would have no more worries about inflicting whatever punishment must be brewing for his mistakes.

It left him strung out, a lit fuse with nowhere to burn. He wanted to recover well, he wanted to be good and make up for his errors and inability to fulfil his duties. It just wasn’t working. He felt more tired than ever, the pain making him sluggish and slow. Emile hated the way he looked with his bruised face and bandaged hand, told Kit it wasn’t appropriate for him to be seen by customers until it wasn’t noticeable.

Even once he could move around without wincing in pain he was confined to the upstairs apartment or the back rooms whenever the store was open. He didn’t mind missing out on the customers, they were never that important to him. But he hated not being busy. He hated sitting with the itch under his skin that stemmed from his failure to take care of himself. He hated having nothing to do but think of all the ways things felt wrong.

The bright spot on the horizon was Libby. He’d missed her too, and was finally up on his feet enough to be allowed downstairs during her lunch break.

“Hey,” Libby said and rushed up to him all at once. She cupped his face lightly, her eyes roving over the bruising. “I’m so sorry about what happened. I heard a few days later but Mr Raser said you weren’t up to visitors.”

He blinked, noting the change from calling Emile by his first name, and back to referring to him by his surname. Libby hadn’t done that around Kit since the first few weeks of her employment. He wondered if it meant anything.

“How are you?” She gathered up his unbandaged hand and squeezed.

He looked down at their joined hands with bleary eyes, watching the way their fingers curled around one another.

“Kit?”

He flinched a little at his name, at the concern. He wasn’t scared of her, he just… felt seen, really seen, for the first time. More than the paramedics who had tended to him, more than the police detectives who had questioned him, more than by Emile who inspected him with detached scrutiny and thin lipped annoyance.

“I can’t believe they hurt you this badly,” she said fiercely, like she was angry on his behalf.

“I’m okay,” he said, finally looking up again. “They said I’ll be okay.”

“But you’re not. Not right now.”

He tried to smile, and reassure her, but all he ended up doing was sighing. “I’m trying.”

“Is anyone taking care of you?”

“That’s… I don’t need... Um, that’s not what I’m for? I’m the one who takes care of them.”

“So that’s a no, then.” She huffed and he curled into himself before remembering how much everything hurt and gasping in pain. She caught his elbow and guided him to sit down. “Here, gently. I brought you soup, and you’re going to drink it, and then…” he watched her eyes rove over him and around the shop, too. Her hand came up to brush through his hair and he leaned into the touch. “Have you managed to get this clean?” she asked gently.

He shook his head. “My hand… and I can’t lift my arm without my side hurting, and it hurt too much at the back… where I hit my head.” He ducked down in shame.

“Okay, that’s what I thought. And Mr. Raser hasn’t tried to help you?”

He started to speak and she cut him off, “And if you say that isn’t his job I might cry.”

He looked up, worried, but found her smiling softly at him, and it emboldened him “I don’t think he noticed.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well that settles it. Soup and a hair wash.”

Before he could even protest, she whisked herself away.

* * *

He thought that usually he would be nervous of this. Stripping his top off in front of her, letting her see his bruises and marks. But on a full stomach of easy to digest food, and after two weeks of pain, he was too tired to worry.

They were in the bathroom for the store pets and she helped him ease out of his shirt and he stood nearby while she filled up the sink. It was low and deep—perfect for helping someone else get washed if they were kneeling or restrained, or otherwise incapable of doing it themselves.

She helped him lean forward over it, sitting on a stool to be the right height.

“I’ll go carefully, tell me if anything hurts and we can take a break okay?”

“Alright, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

She flicked water at him and he drew back in surprise, relaxing when he saw her try not to smile while looking stern. “I mean it, don’t go pushing through pain. I’ve got twenty-five minutes of my lunch break left and I don’t mind spending them all in here with you.”

“That’s very kind, thank you.”

“Come on then, here we go.”

She started by slowly wetting his hair, used a cup to pour water over his head while shielding his eyes with her other hand. He sighed in contentment as weeks worth of grime started to wash away. She worked her fingers through the matted hair that had dried with blood, that he hadn’t been able to fully get rid of.

“Still feeling okay?”

His ribs protested the position a little, but not really any worse than anything else, so he nodded. “Feels good.”

“This bump looks really bad. Does it hurt a lot?”

“Mmm, no? Not since they gave me something to take. The tablets help. They just don’t… my ribs hurt too much so I can’t reach up.” He winced. “I don’t mean to complain.”

She snorted. “Looks like you have every right to complain, to me anyway.” She eased him upright and squeezed the generic shampoo into her hand. “You got a raw deal here, it’s alright if it bothers you.”

“You mean the break-in?” He asked with a frown.

She looked at him steadily for a moment. “Yeah, that, among other things,” she said from between clenched teeth. “But yes. It must have been scary.”

She lathered his head, massaging in gentle circling motions as she went. His eyes closed involuntarily and without meaning to he leaned into her touch.

“I… I didn’t know what to do. And there were so many of them and I couldn’t see their faces and I didn’t know what they wanted.” He gulped, tried to swallow his words but between the soft comforting touch and the pent up emotions he’d been sitting with for weeks, they just kept spilling over. “When they hit me all I could think was how much trouble I’d be in, and then the pain hit too and I thought… thought they might do worse. Like… like in training. And then after, I thought Sir might send me back to training for being bad, for losing the pets... letting them be taken.” He squeezed his eyes closed tighter, scrunching up his face until his healing bruises started to hurt. He could fight back tears if he focused on the physical pain.

Libby’s hands left his head and he heard water splashing, and then her hands cupped his face. He opened his eyes as she ran her thumbs across his cheeks and his muscles relaxed under the steady pressure. “It won’t happen again, Mr. Raser is taking care of it, taking even more precautions. I don’t think anyone would try the same thing twice anyway. You’re safe here, with me, like this. We’ll make sure you stay safe.”

He nodded, breathing slowly so he wouldn’t sob and hurt his ribs.

“Was Mr. Raser mad at you?” Her face darkened, and if he wasn’t so well attuned to the emotions of others he might have missed it.

He shook his head vigorously, sending water droplets and shampoo splashing across the tiles. “Not really. Only because I can’t work for a while. But I don’t think it’s me he’s really angry with. It’s confusing, but I’m glad.”

“Well that’s something at least.” She swiped shampoo off his forehead to stop it slipping into his eyes.

“He’s letting me sleep in the big bed,” Kit added shyly. “It’s very nice.”

“The what?”

“The big bed, upstairs? There’s one in the wall, it folds down. He uses it when he had to stay overnight, but now…it’s for me, until I’m better.” Kit smiled, timidly, and shrugged.

Libby’s face went through a range of emotions so fast he felt dizzy just watching her. She sighed, finally, and returned to massaging the shampoo deeper into his scalp. She muttered something under her breath that he didn’t catch. “Libby?”

“Yes?”

“I upset you?”

“No. Well, I am upset for you. That’s not your fault. I can’t…can’t believe there’s been a bed up there this whole time and he makes you sleep on the floor on that tiny mattress.”

“Pets belong—”

“I know, I know the spiel. It just seems wrong.”

He pondered that as she gently tipped his head back and began pouring water over his hair, rinsing the shampoo clean. So many things seemed wrong. The break in. His different treatment since. Libby’s insistence that he should be better cared for. He was being better cared for, wasn’t he? Rest, and time, and the ability to laze about in bed. And he knew he didn’t deserve it. He knew punishment must be coming, he’d failed so spectacularly it must be.

His thoughts broke off as she spoke again. “I think we’re just about done. Unless you need help with anything else?”

His hair felt amazing, squeaky clean and heavenly. He kept his eyes closed in contentment, revelling in the warmth of the room and the moment of peace where he knew exactly what he was supposed to do. He startled as she used a washcloth and rubbed down his face, over the tops of his shoulders and this his neck. He shivered as water ran down his back but not because it felt bad.

“I can manage the other stuff.” He opened his eyes and smiled. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” She hesitated and then turned away. The loss of her attention stabbed pain in his gut, he didn’t want the moment of calm to be over. His thoughts scrambled to catch up with a swell of emotion he couldn’t name.

She let the sink drain, wiping down the edges and wringing out the washcloth. He began to speak without knowing where he was going, words forming and leaving his lips in a rush.

“You said something seemed wrong, but I don’t know which thing you mean. Everything feels wrong since… since I got hurt. Everything has been so different.” The admittance tumbled out before he could question it, but saying it aloud flooded him with relief.

She leaned against the sink and considered him. “I just know that you deserve better than the lot you’ve been dealt. You deserve to be comfortable not just when you’re hurt, and you don’t, you shouldn’t, have had to be hurt in the first place—not ever. It’s not my place to question your owner, but I wish I could give him a piece of my mind.”

“I try to be good. But sometimes I don’t know what that means either. I don’t know how to be everything that’s expected of me.”

She nodded, stuck her tongue between her teeth and then bit at her lip before sighing. “I wish I could help you more.”

“You helped me now,” he smiled. Everything in him was calmer, no itch, no buzzing of a thousand unanswered questions, no worries about his safety. Sudden tears filled his eyes and he had to look away. “I’m sorry, I’m just tired, just tired.”

She moved swiftly and cradled his head with one arm wrapped around his bare shoulders. He cried silently for a few long minutes, letting everything that had built up slowly bleed away. It was wrong of him to take her time like this, to show weakness like this, but he could hardly care. She didn’t stop him and that made him believe she didn’t care either.

“Same time next shift, okay? Until your ribs heal I’ll help you in any way I can. And… other things will work themselves out in time, you’ll see.”

He nodded, and for some reason he believed her and trusted her words more than anything anyone else had ever said. They settled deep in his chest and he didn’t even question that some of it ran counter to his training. Words like deserve, and help, concepts like him not being hurt—none of them were right. But from her… they didn’t seem wrong either.

His mind was lighter, and he was more centred than he had been since the attack. He sat with the feeling and decided, without really meaning to, that he liked her better than Emile in almost every way.

It felt like a small betrayal, after all the leanience Emile had given him, and he resolved to go and ask for his punishment as soon as his ribs felt better, and to work extra hard to make up for not liking his owner best of all. But even so—he wouldn’t give up the feeling for anything, because it felt like safety, and it felt as far from wrong as he had ever remembered feeling.

#box boy universe #Kit's Story #hurt/comfort #light angst #injuries #injured whumpee #blood mention #violence mention #referenced violence #referenced punishments #dehumanization tw #whumpee and caretaker #pet whump #pet whumpee #people as pets

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victoria-daydreams · 4 years

Text

Till Kingdom Come

Prologue: The Portrait

AN: Another Old Guard fic that has been in my head since I wrote my first one. Which you should go check out, by the way. Once I created the moodboard for my OC it was over, I knew that I had to write a story about her. Fair warning, this chapter is kinda of dark, it’s definitely the complete opposite of my first chapter in my other story.

Here’s the moodboard that inspired this fic.

Summary: Most people would find the very thought of looking forward to one’s own death as morbid, but not for Sabine. Death, was something she longed for, it was the only way to freedom from the chains of slavery. And one day, she finally got her wish and she was finally put out of her misery.

Until she wasn’t.

And Sabine learned a dreadful secret about herself from the experience, setting in motion a life altering event that included four immortals who would take her on several journeys that spanned many lifetimes.

Word Count: 1.8k

Trigger Warnings: violence, slavery, abuse, racism, racial slurs, colorism

Chapter One: My Story Is Much Too Sad to Be Told

At age five, Sabine's life changed irrevocably in an instant.

She remembered that day crystal clear, the traumatizing experience was seared into her young mind. 1845, that was the year Sabine's world was turned upside down, the exact day she didn't know, slaves weren't given calendars. That day, the afternoon sun was high in the sky and there weren't any clouds to shield her from the harsh and unforgiving rays of the sun as she worked the never ending fields of cotton. Tirelessly, Sabine labored next to her mother, Anne, as they picked the prickly plant from the row they were assigned to.

Often times, Sabine would admire her mother's appearance to take her mind off the grueling labor she was forced to do. She thought her mother absolutely was beautiful with her rich brown skin, her round shaped dark brown eyes that somehow still oozed kindness and warmth with everything they are put through, and her black curly hair that was always tied up.

A lot of the slaves on the Dillon Plantation commented on the fact that Sabine's older sister, Emile, favored their mother unlike Sabine who resembled her father, Gabriel. Like her father, Sabine's skin was a warm, golden brown shade that had darkened slightly due to working in the sun. Sabine had noticed that her hair didn't have the same loose curl like her mother's hair, instead her hair resembled her father tight curls. The one feature she did inherit from her mother was her eye shape and color.

Doing this had become somewhat of a game to her, it was better than the alternative which was focusing on how many times she pricked her fingers with each hour that passed. This was the routine that Sabine had become accustomed to, from dawn to dusk, she and the rest of the hundreds of other slaves would toil away in the fields to pick the cash crop of the South.

Until one day, that routine was broken.

Sabine could hear hooves beating down on the ground and the sound of a carriage behind her. She didn't pay attention to it, the sound of them passing by on the dirt road between the fields was not uncommon. The sound grew louder and louder as the carriage drew nearer and nearer and suddenly a strong gust of wind blew past her. Sabine expected to hear the rhythmic trotting of the horses continue as they passed by her, but realized she didn't. The carriage had stopped next to her, her mother, and other slaves.

"You, girl!" Master Dillon shouted. "Turn around!" he ordered.

At first, Sabine didn't move, she wasn't sure if Master Dillon was speaking to her. She had heard Master Dillon address slaves much older than her mother and father as either 'girl' or 'boy'. It wasn't until she felt her mother lightly tap her that Sabine finally turned around to face Master Dillon. Temporarily, she was blinded by the glaring light and lifted her hand to protect her eyes from the rays of the sun.

"Yes massa'?" she asked softly.

Sabine looked up at the man that stood outside the carriage. He was tall, had short, raven-colored hair, blue eyes and angular features. Master Dillon was pale albeit with a slightly tanned complexion. A thick, bushy mustache rested between his narrow nose and thin lips, the facial hair reminded Sabine of a caterpillar.

"Oh, isn't she adorable!" a woman gushed, in a high pitched voice.

Sabine turned her head to look at the owner of the voice, a young woman sat in the carriage holding a white, lace parasol. The woman appeared to be the same age as Emile, if not older. Her skin was fair and an oval shaped face which was framed by her chestnut brown, braided chignon. The woman's small lips were curved into a smile and her blue eyes seemed to twinkle in delight as she stared down at Sabine, like she saw a new plaything.

"Brother, bring her closer to me," the woman requested, almost bouncing up and down in her seat.

Master Dillon beckoned Sabine over, "Come on girl!" he demanded impatiently.

Sabine hesitantly placed her sack of cotton on the ground and made her way to Master Dillon and the woman in the carriage.

"Pierre," the woman cooed, looking over at her brother. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself," she chuckled, shifting her stare back towards Sabine. "She's much too light to be working in these fields," she commented, shaking her head in disapproval.

"She's not that light, Genevieve," Pierre disagreed, his eyes scanning over Sabine's skin complexion.

"Well, you're right about that," Genevieve acknowledged, nodding to herself. "Still, she's not a darkie,” she pointed out, scrunching her nose up in disgust. “The girl is....an acceptable shade for a house negro," she continued, twirling her parasol. "Now, give me your inspection brother," she demanded lightly, waving her free hand.

Master Dillon moved to the side of Sabine and forcibly used his fingers to pry open her mouth, showing off her teeth.

"You see here, her teeth are surprisingly healthy," Master Dillon began, before pulling down her lower lip more. "I'm sure some of her teeth are about to start falling out soon," he informed, and removed his fingers from her mouth. "Spread your arms out girl," he ordered, Sabine immediately did as she was told and he roughly pushed the sleeve of her dress up. "She's already got some muscle on her," he stated, squeezing her small biceps. "It's like she was born to work the fields," he added, a proud grin on his face. "So, what do you think?" he asked curiously. letting go of Sabine's arm.

"Oh Pierre!" Genevieve cried happily. "Give her to me, please, please, please, please," she begged, giving her best puppy dog eyes. "This one here will make a nice addition to my collection back home," she explained excitedly, eying Sabine once more.

Sabine's eyes darted between Master Dillon and his sister, completely terrified at the thought of being separated from her family. Unconsciously, her breathing started to increase, her chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow breaths. Master Dillon rubbed his chin in contemplation and after a long moment of silence the man clasped his hands together.

"Aw hell, I can't say ‘no’ to my baby sister, can I?" Master Dillon asked, smiling at Genevieve. "Go ahead and take her, think of her as an early birthday gift," he continued, sticking his hand out towards Sabine.

Sabine's eyes went as wide as saucers.

Genevieve laughed giddily, "You're the best Pierre!" she exclaimed, excitedly clapping her hands together.

Sabine felt her blood run cold just as she heard hurried footsteps approaching from behind her.

Two hands gripped her shoulders and Sabine's body tensed, "Yous can't take her massa!" Sabine's mother cried, and she felt her body relax, slightly.

Master Dillon scoffed at Anne, "Who the hell do you think you are to tell me what I can or cannot do with my property?" he asked, a sneer on his face.

Anne pulled Sabine closer to her, "She's my daughter!" she insisted.

Master Dillon narrowed his eyes at Anne as a deep scowl formed on his face, "I guess you forgot girl, that you're my property as well," he stated, taking a menacing step forward and Anne stepped back pulling Sabine with her. "So anything that you expel out of your womb is mine by law," he reminded, moving closer to the mother and daughter. "I own both of you," he finished, his tone turning sinister.

Anne held Sabine a little tighter, "Sabine is not yours to give away," she stated, a defiant look in her eyes.

"Hand over the girl, now!" Master Dillon demanded, his face slowly turning red from anger and Sabine felt her small body begin to tremble. "If you make me repeat myself, you're going to be in a world of trouble girl!" he threatened, his scowl deepening.

"No!"

Suddenly, Sabine felt herself being violently yanked away from her mother and loud cries of pain erupted from her, piercing the still air of the cotton fields. Tears fell from her eyes as her mother held her tighter in her arms. A battle of tug war ensued over Sabine with Master Dillon yanking on her thin arm in the direction of his sister while Anne tugged in the opposite direction. The horrific sound of flesh hitting flesh resounded in Sabine's ears as she tripped over her feet from the force of her mother losing her grip on her.

"Mama!" Sabine yelled, as she was roughly picked by Master Dillon. "Mama!" she shouted again, thrashing her small body in the man's arm.

Sabine's struggle in Master Dillon's grasp was futile as he unceremoniously dumped her into the carriage where his sister resided, seemingly unaffected by what was unfolding right in front of her. Sabine's head snapped to the ground where her mother lay collapsed on the ground, soft groans escaping her lips. Out of nowhere, Sabine's chin was yanked to look straight ahead at Genevieve.

"Sabine, that's what your mama called you right?" Genevieve asked curiously, rotating Sabine's head around as she inspected her.

"Yes, Mistress," Sabine answered, her voice hoarse.

Genevieve slightly frowned and twisted her nose in distaste, "What an ugly name," she commented, shaking her head. "We're going to have to change that," she continued, releasing Sabine's chin. "What am I going to name you?" she mused, tilting her head. A short moment passed. "I got it!" she exclaimed, snapping her fingers. "From here on, your name is Cecile!" she beamed, clearly proud of herself.

Sabine didn't bother to argue about her new name, she didn't have any say in the matter anyways.

"Yes Mistress," Sabine replied hoarsely, in acknowledgement.

Genevieve grinned at the young girl in front of her, "Good!" she cheered, with a nod of her head. "Now, Cecile, take this parasol and shield me from the sun," she ordered, sticking her arm out that held the parasol.

"Yes Mistress," Sabine answered, gently grabbing the parasol from her new mistress' hand.

"There's a good girl," Genevieve complimented, and moved her eyes to her brother who was currently gripping Anne by her hair. "Thank you Pierre!" she smiled. "I think Cecile and I are going to get along just fine," she stated, patting Sabine's head as if she was a dog. "Take me home Cyril," she ordered, and the coachman nodded at her before tugging on the reins.

The carriage carrying Genevieve and Sabine slowly moved further and further away from Master Dillon and Anne when a loud, agonizing wail penetrated the atmosphere. The heartbroken wailing made the hairs of Sabine's neck stand up and it took a few seconds for her to realize who those wails were coming from. It was her mother's. Sabine turned her around in her seat to see that Master Dillon was forcing her mother to watch her being taken away.

"Cecile, pay attention!" Genevieve snapped, making Sabine swivel her body back around. "You're letting the sun hit me, I don't want to get as dark as you!" she sneered, and Sabine adjusted the parasol to protect Genevieve.

As the carriage turned out of the Dillon Plantation, Sabine had only one thought in her mind.

She knew at that moment she would never see her family again.

Chapter Two: Life Being What It Is

45 notes · View notes

authorized-trash · 4 years

Text

To Tie a Knot: Chapter 5: Important Meetings in a Coffee Shop Bathroom

Ao3

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

Content Warnings:

Self harm, self deprecation, making out, stress, emotional turmoil, elusion to character death, (If anything else needs mentioned tell me)

Chapter Summary:

Damian should know better than to walk into coffee shops when he’s the protagonist of a romance fanfiction smh

Word Count:

3,600+

Note: I posted the last chapter on Ao3 a day or two ago, and it got so many comments so fast I was inspired to write another on. So here is nearly 4k words of >:]. Chapter six is halfway done as well, so please, keep the comments up, I’ve never written so much so fast in my life asdf

By the time noon had come and gone and Logan had left, the others were restless. Patton was stress baking and Roman was practicing his lines a bit louder than normal. Virgil was nowhere to be seen, most likely hiding in their shared room listening to too-loud music.

Patton kneaded dough between his hands, planning on making bread. One would think he would make cookies or something while stressed, but he found the process of homemade bread and the smell of it baking was much better for calming.

Over the years he had gotten pretty good actually, won a few dumb little neighborhood competitions with his baking. His soulmates all adored his cooking, Roman had stated one of his favorite things to wake up to was the smell of pie or bread.

Patton let his mind wander while he worked, thinking about his new soulmate. He couldn’t help the wave of anticipation and impatience that hit him when he thought about their meeting. He was just so excited! A large smile stretched across his face, and he did a few happy stomps with his feet.

Roman stopped repeating his lines and looked over to him, a soft smile on his face.

“You okay over there, dear? You’re lucky that bread isn’t alive, you’re beating it quite thoroughly,” Roman said with a teasing tone.

Patton looked up at him, blushing a bit at being caught, “Oh! Yeah of course I’m fine! I’m just overwhelmingly giddy, I guess.”

Roman laughed and crossed the room with a few long strides, grabbing Patton around the waist and setting his chin to rest on the other’s head. He gave a kiss to Patton’s scalp, and Patton giggled and swatted playfully at him.

“Ro stop, I’m trying to cook,” Patton whined, placing the kneaded dough into a bread pan. He leaned back into Roman’s hold either way, looking up at him through his eyelashes.

“Sorry Sweetheart, I simply couldn’t resist,” Roman winked, laughing softly. They stood there for a few moments in silence, swaying slightly.

“Do you think they’ll like my bread?” Patton asked quietly.

“What? Of course! If they don’t I will have to fight them,” Roman said dramatically. Patton chuckled.

“No fighting Roman, everyone has their own tastes.”

“If someone’s taste doesn’t like your bread, they’re wrong. Sorry, I don’t make the rules,” Roman spun Patton and gave him a peck to the lips.

The oven beeped a few times behind them, and Patton started to squirm in Roman’s hold.

“Babe, you gotta let me go so I can cook!” Patton said, squealing as Roman held steadfast, unmoving.

“Nuh uh, you are in the Princey Dungeon of snuggles and cuddles, I’m very sorry Padre, but I simply cannot let go unless you pay bail.”

“Which is?”

“Kiss me.”

Patton didn’t protest as he pressed their lips together. Roman hummed and smiled into the kiss, trailing his hands up Patton’s back and threading his fingers into Patton’s hair. After a few long seconds they parted for air, but Roman didn’t seem to want to stop, and at this point neither did Patton.

Before long Patton was up against the counter, kissing back with fervor as Roman picked his legs up and sat him on the counter. Patton made a small noise into the kiss, arms draped around Roman’s shoulders.

Just as Roman was teasing his hand up and under Patton’s shirt, a gagging noise came from the door.

“Eugh, can ya’ll like, not be horny in the kitchen please? I don’t want you contaminating my bread.”

Roman nearly fell to his ass with how fast he jumped off of Patton, and Patton buried his head in his hands and grumbled something under his breath.

Virgil laughed all the way to the kitchen’s island, wheezing and wiping tears from his eyes.

“You two should see your faces, you would think your parent’s just caught you or somethin’. Calm thyselves.”

Patton just stood silently and went to put the bread in the oven.

“Wait, excuse you. Your bread? No, sorry sis, it’s mine,” Roman said as he brushed himself off.

“Oh god, please don’t call me sis, I’m your boyfriend, that’s weird,” Virgil said, moving to sit himself up onto the counter on the other side of the room.

“Oh,” Patton spoke up suddenly, “Roman, I meant to ask, how’s Remus? You haven’t talked about him in awhile.”

Roman’s brother Remus visited them every holiday. It was getting close to thanksgiving at this point, and they were all looking forward to seeing him.

Roman shrugged, “Don’t know, haven’t talked to him in… a little over a month now?”

“How come?” Patton asked.

“Normally I’m not the one who reaches out to talk, I just haven’t thought about it. And since, ya know, I don’t talk to my parents, it’s easy to lose contact for larger periods of time,” Roman explained, slumping into a chair at the kitchen table. Patton nodded in understanding.

They went back to their routines, this time with both Roman and Virgil on their phones while Patton baked a few more things.

Half an hour went by with little words, just a comfortable silence as they all enjoyed the company.

A sharp and hard tug caught their attention.

“Ow, damnit,” Virgil said, shaking his hand roughly as if it were burned. The other two looking down at their hands in confusion, wincing as their yellow strings gave another sharp and painful tug.

“Language,” Patton chided absentmindedly, then, “Do they want something?”

“I don’t think people yank on their strings that hard in order to get someone’s attention, Dearest,” Roman said, flinching as he bent his finger. It was already sore.

“They’re not trying to take the string off or something, right? That’s impossible, they should know that,” Virgil said shakily, curling in on himself and his hoodie.

“It is. Maybe they’re not thinking clearly?” Roman said, trying to offer an explanation.

Patton pouted,

“I hope they’re okay.”

Damian was not okay.

You wouldn’t be able to tell it, though, with the way he was carrying himself.

His strides were confident, and he held his head high. He tipped his hat at the people who walked by and offered polite hellos. He looked like every bit of a man who was sure of himself.

But he was far from it, really.

If you knew him personally and were looking closely, you could see the way he sometimes fidgeted with his jacket sleeves. You’d notice the slight tremble in his hands, or the way he seemed to run his fingers through his hair too many times. He honestly probably had his hat off more than he had it on, lifting it off of his head as much as he was.

Damian was a nervous wreck, but a nervous wreck who was good at hiding it.

His classes that day were ridiculously stressful, and it didn’t help when every other person exclaimed suddenly when they noticed the shadows of his soulstrings. He would wave them off, or excuse himself. Hell, a few times he even made up what his soulmates were like. He wove tales of wonderful people who had swept him off his feet, if only to appease the asker and get them to stop bugging him.

He had watched earlier that day as the indigo string seemed to detach from the others, just barely heading in a different direction. It was a very slow process, meaning they were probably decently far, but it still scared him.

Were they going to work? Coming to find him? Oh god, what if indigo left the other three because he couldn’t deal with another string showing up? What if Damian was the reason why they broke up?

No, Damian thought to himself with a shake of his head, no that was ridiculous. Really, he needed to stop letting his head go off in random directions, the self deprecation was getting old.

Damian walked up the steps of his apartment building, entering with a nod towards the doorman. The man smiled and waved.

“Heya, DJ,” He greeted.

“Hello, Larry. How’s the wife?”

“Oh you know her, same old. She’s missed you, you know. You should really come over for some tea sometime soon,” Larry said, opening the door for Damian.

“Sure thing, how does Thursday sound?”

“That would be awesome, see you then, Damian.”

Damian smiled to himself as he entered the elevator to his floor. He let out a shuddery breath. Small talk came to him easily, he was never really introverted to be honest, but that didn’t stop it from being taxing on the days when he really didn’t want to have to see people.

As soon as he crossed the threshold to his apartment, he checked the time.

Okay, it was a little past five in the afternoon, cool. He figured Remy would be up to go somewhere, if he wasn’t already out with Emile.

He shot him a text, which he got an immediate reply on.

Girl course i wanna hang. Ill be there in half hour, see ya hot stuff xoxo

Damian chuckled to himself. Of course Remy would be the kind of person to still unironically use X’s and O’s.

He double tapped the message to like it, and took off for the restroom. He needed to freshen up before he left for the outside world.

He went ahead and re-brushed his teeth, combed his hair, and washed his face. He really needed some moisturizer for his burns, they were getting a little scratchy around the edges, the sensitive skin looking a little red and agitated.

By the time he was done toweling himself off, his eyes fell from his face in the mirror to the strings tied neatly around his fingers. He had spent most of the day ignoring them, other than the occasional check-in on Indigo’s progress.

He looked at them for a long while, feeling how they moved. He always found it so fascinating, how sometimes they would be pulled tight and sensitive to any slight movement, and how other times they seemed to pool onto the floor in piles of color. He figured it depended on some kind of need or something, it was always when someone’s emotions were high that the strings seemed to tighten, maybe as a way to aid communication.

Damian just figured it was some weird magicky shit, and didn’t let it bother him too much. He had gotten over the trying to explain the strings stage back in middle school, back when it was just him and green.

Nausea and guilt ate at his insides even thinking about the green string. It hung loosely to the fingers on the hand opposite the new strings, its once brilliant earthy color now a faded grey.

It was so pale and sad looking in comparison to the other brighter strings, and Damian couldn’t help but want to cry again. It was such a lovely color, and he was sure they would have been such a lovely person.

He didn’t even have a name to mourn, a funeral to attend to. Only a sad little frayed string to cry pitifully over.

And that brings up another question, why frayed? Damian hadn’t met anyone who had a dead soulmate that had a frayed string. Sure, others had their colors dulled, but the end looked clipped with scissors. Damian’s looked as if someone had pulled it apart with their teeth.

It wasn’t fair, Damian thought. It wasn’t fair that he got all these questions. It wasn’t even a simple, “oh no, my soulmate is dead, I’m doomed to be lonely and soulless.” No, he had to deal with all these mysteries. Why frayed? Why four others? Why add him to an already complete group? Why not someone else? Why had it been a month, when the average wait on the reassigning was a week? Were the other’s even able to love him like they loved each other? Damian wasn’t paired with someone equally as heartbroken and lonely, he was paired with an already complete soulmate relationship. Was he doomed to be an outcast?

Damian didn’t want this, he didn’t ask for this.

His emotions were all over the place, but he steeled himself, and with an angry huffed, he grabbed his four strings, and yanked.

White hot, dizzying pain lanced up his arm, and he gave a shout. His vision blanked, and a throbbing headache pounded behind his eyes.

His vision cleared after a while, stars and dots still dancing across his eyes. The pain was so bad, it was nearly incapacitating.

And in a mix of morbid curiosity and the horrible feeling of self loathing, he yanked again, harder.

He stumbled to the ground, sweat beginning to drip from his forehead. His heart was pounding in his ears, and what sounded like a dull roar caused his eardrums to hurt. Every bone in his body ached, and his arm hurt to move.

Well, he thought, guess they were pretty authentic then, at the very least.

He heard a knock at the door and tripped over himself to get up. He dabbed his face with the towel once again, wincing at the pain in his arms.

By the time he left the bathroom, Remy was already standing inside.

“What on earth were you doing in there, you look awful,” Remy asked, before going a bit pale, “You know what? Don’t answer that.”

“Oh shut it,” Damian snapped, taking his hat off the counter and fitting it back into place.

“So, wanna head out to that coffee shop you like downtown?”

Damian shrugged, “Why not.”

“Sweet, let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

Damian sighed but laughed at his friend's antics, following him out the door with a fond shake of his head.

The coffee shop was nice. It was small, cozy, and had a nice arrangement of potted plants scattered about. The barista was kind, and pretty cute. They had a cute grungy-emo thing going on.

Damian had a thing for emos.

He, like normal, had ordered some black coffee with two creams and a sugar, much to Remy’s dismay. Remy had then proceeded to buy some ridiculously over sweetened drink with a stupid name and two muffins to share, much to Damian’s dismay.

“You have got to stop buying food for me Remy, I’m a grown man, I can pay for myself.”

“I offered. Besides, you need your money for your hobbies.”

“What hobbies?” Damian laughed, smiling despite himself.

“I don’t know, your music. You play the clarinet, right?”

“Flute, actually,” Said Damian, rolling his eyes, “And it’s not a hobby. Band was the only reason I managed to get into college. You know this, why are you asking?”

It was Remy’s turn to roll his eyes, “Small talk, babes.”

Damian was so caught up in their conversation he missed as the indigo string tied to his finger moved at a rate much, much faster than earlier that day.

“Mhmm, small talk about something we are both familiar with?”

“I don’t know, you band nerds seem to like to talk about band, despite making sure it is known that it is hell on earth,” Remy laughed, “Why don’t you, I don’t know, tell one of those ‘this one time at band camp-’ stories, babes?”

“Uh huh, and which one haven’t you heard?” Damian did in fact have a lot of stories, as every band kid tended to, but he was almost certain Remy had heard every one three times. It was obviously his best friend was just trying to cheer him up, and honestly? Damian really appreciated it.

“I don’t know, what about the one time you passed out on field and went to the hospital for a broken rib after being stepped on?” Remy’s grin was shit-eating, and Damian felt his face turn a deep crimson.

“We agreed not to talk about that,” he hissed, attempting to hide his face behind his coffee as he took a sip.

Remy shook his head as he laughed, before standing up.

“I’m heading to the restroom babes, try not to miss me too much.”

Damian sighed and sat back in his chair as Remy left, closing his eyes and smiling to himself. He was enjoying himself, this was nice. Remy was an awesome friend and really helped Damian to forget all about his stupid soulmates.

If all went Damian’s way, he wouldn’t have to deal with soulmates for the rest of the day.

Of course, knowing how fate liked to fuck him over, that isn’t what happened.

Logan had had an exhausting day, and he was ready to get it over with. He wanted nothing more than to go home to his soulmates and curl up against them, but he knew he couldn’t. He had been sentenced to sleeping in a cold hotel bed, alone.

The day had started well, with breakfast with his beloveds and a few kisses to his cheek, and a few kisses he returned. He had left with a small smile on his face.

But his good mood had slowly disappeared as the day wore on, as no sign of his other soulmate was to be found. The string slowly started to move more and more as he was sure he was getting closer, but the direction it was in was so vague, he could only hope he was going the right way as he drove.

Honestly, he didn’t know why some machine to find them hadn’t been invented yet. Surely there was some way to get some magnetic something or other to pick up on soulstrings, and then lead you there with a convenient little GPS voice.

But nope, the stupid strings were too stubborn to be beat. Everyone had just accepted them as immovable magic and was done with it.

Everyone including Logan, but he still felt like he was allowed to complain about that fact.

It was a little past six in the evening at this point, and the sky was beginning to darken considerably. Logan could feel his body getting heavier, but wasn’t quite tired enough to stop yet.

He didn’t think his perception skills were too bad, surely he had a few more hours left in him.

That was probably a bad judgement call, as they were apparently bad enough to not notice how fast the string on his finger moved as he turned the corner into coffee shop parking lot.

He locked his car as he stepped away from it, and entered the building. He took a right to the restroom, wanting to wash his hands before doing anything else, not enjoying the feeling of sweaty driving palms.

He heard the door behind him open, and looked up to see a man wearing sunglasses (indoors?) walk in.

“‘Sup Babes,” the man said, and Logan lifted an eyebrow in confusion.

“Babes? I’m sorry, do I know you?”

The man laughed, “Nope, you just look like someone who would be fun to piss off by calling them babes. For real though, why are you wearing a necktie in a coffee shop?”

“Plenty of people wear neckties in a coffee shop,” Logan answered, fixing his tie with an affronted look. The other man just laughed, running a hand through his hair.

“The name’s Remy,” The man said, offering his hand to shake. Logan took it, if with a little hesitance and confusion.

“Logan.” Logan responded. Remy nodded, going to turn around and leave, probably deterred from using the restroom in what would now be an awkward situation. He stopped suddenly, eyes going wide from behind his sunglasses.

“You have four soulmates?” He said, looking at the slight shadow cast on the tiled floor.

“Yes,” Logan answered, easily. Remy was not the first one to ask that today. There was the woman at the gas station, and the man walking his dog outside of the Ihop. It was a little disorienting hearing four instead of three, but whatever.

“You here with someone? One of your strings seems to be pointing in a weird direction,” Remy commented, nodding down at the shadow heading straight out the bathroom door. Logan looked down hurriedly, just now noticing the yellow string that was pulled tight.

“I- no I’m not. I’ve actually been looking for our fourth soulmate all day,” Logan didn’t take his eyes off the string, “In fact, it only appeared recently. Me and my other soulmates decided it best to find them as soon as possible.

After a few more minutes of staring wide eyed at his yellow string, he looked up at Remy. He, once again, looked confused at the wide smile that had spread across Remy’s face. The sunglasses clad man grabbed Logan by the hand and tugged him towards the door.

“Come on, there’s someone you need to meet.”

Logan allowed himself to be pulled back into the main part of the coffee shop and led in the direction of a booth in the back. He opened his mouth to protest, but stopped when he caught sight of the man seated at the table.

“Damian, babes, you will not fucking believe who I just ran into,” Remy exclaimed. The man, Damian, turned around to face them.

The two men locked eyes, and Logan felt his heart hammering in his chest, that familiar yet foreign feeling of something clicking into place in his chest was present for the fourth time in his life, and he was almost certain he had never been happier.

Logan was at a loss for words for one of the few times in his life.

“Uhm, hello?”

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Text

The Remnant Branches

CH. 5 - Ash Qrow

Qrow ventures into the world where day and night are at a standstill. There, he gets stuck with a bunch of kids, and a book or two.

AO3 Link

You can kill two birds with one stone. But if those two birds are the same bird, are you really killing two birds?

Qrow flew right into a large rock that was hurled from below. With a caw, he flew away with it. It hurt like hell, but honestly, he was used to such inconveniences.

“Kainé! You hit that poor bird!” berated a child’s voice.

“What? It’s not my fault the damn thing came out of nowhere.” a woman said as she tore through a shadowy monster.

As Qrow recovered, he looked down below. There were four people: two young adults, and two children. There were also two floating books, one white, and the other red. The two children fought together, while the male teen and the white book fought together. The woman, whose clothing could hardly count as clothing, fought with the red book. He thought of joining in the fight to help them out, but they were taking care of the monsters, shades, he remembered, as if it were having a picnic. Not only that, they all used magic. He was happy to have found what he was looking for on his first day.

Qrow spent the rest of that first day scouting the surrounding area. Nearby, was a small village, a seaside town, a small desert civilization, a run down factory, a forest, and a village built into a cliff side. In the distance, he could see dilapidated buildings, an abandoned city in ruins. He knew that whatever happened to this world was unimaginable. He knew that if Salem won, Remnant could very well end up like that part of the world.

The first place he visited was the tavern of the village the four stayed in. His first order of business was to find out preliminary information on them. Bars were one of the best places to get info. Alcohol flowed, and information flowed with it. However, bars in small places could be either hit or miss with information. The people in such bars would either be too tight-lipped, wanting to keep their community’s secrets, or all too eager to share the latest gossip. He was all too happy to find this bar a hit. Great information, with even greater alcohol. He decided then that post-apocalyptic alcohol was the best.

“You mean you haven’t heard of them!? They’re like, only the strongest people in the world!”

“I’ve seen Grimoire Weiss and Nier take on an army of shades all alone! I wish I was as awesome as they were.”

“Kainé is soooo cool. She and Rubrum took down a shade the size of three building in five minutes flat. She even saved me from this giant shade and helped me up. I haven't washed my hand since she touched it.”

“Emil and Halua are soo adorable! And so strong too! Don’t let their looks fool you though. I heard that they took on Weiss, Nier, Kainé, and Rubrum on in a spar, and won.”

“They’re gonna save the world! Once they find The Shadowlord, we’ll be free of the shades at last!”

Qrow was having a great time. Apparently, he had showed up after a rare performance from the village’s leaders. The bar was filled with laughter and chatter. While he was chatting away with some man, he heard a roar rise from the crowd.

“Oh man! Here comes the main event!” said the man.

Qrow saw that an arm wrestling contest was going on, and the champion was one of the village leaders, the one with the straight hair. She seemed more drunk than anyone else, and did not appear particularly strong. The first opponent was a woman, a dainty thing that went down easy. Next was a beefy man. He went down with only a smudge of struggle on the champion’s part. After him was an even beefier woman. She was defeated just as easily.

“Come on! One more opponent! Who else wants to face me? You!” She pointed right at Qrow. “You’re a new face! Get over here! Let’s see how you hold up against me!”

Qrow shrunk and tried to get out of the challenge, but, the crowd pushed him forward. He may have been drunk, but still knew that it was almost never a good idea to attract attention on a mission. However, there was no good way of getting out of it, so he went to his slaughter. She sized him up and smirked. Their hands interlocked, and the match began. Qrow put up a better fight than the others. He assumes it is because of his aura helping out. But, she unleashes a burst of strength that not only seals her victory, but breaks the table they were playing on. While Qrow picks himself up, the champion raises a leg onto her chair and relishes her victory.

“Popola! Popola!” the crowd chanted. Qrow knew that there was more to this woman than meets the eye. But, pursuing her would have been illogical. He had his lead on magic, and would focus on that.

It wasn’t his first loss at arm wrestling. That was with Tai. Summer ended up winning Team STRQ’s little tournament. It was a nice memory. But, a memory is all it ultimately all was. He spent the rest of that day gathering bits and pieces of information on the group, nursing the great beer out of his canteen.

The Shadowlord and the black book, Noir, had taken the Nier’s kid sister. The two children were siblings and had lived at the mansion. Kainé had lived at the Aerie, the place built into the cliffside. Grimoire Weiss, who insisted on being referred to by his full name, and Kainé did not get along. Rubrum and Nier don’t get along. Rumor has it that Nier and Kainé are dating. Nier’s weapon is named Beastcurse. None of the info he gathers pertains to the specifics of the magic they wield.

Qrow always found sleep difficult, and the eternal sun only made it harder. He wondered why Popola was so strong. Ozpin didn’t mention anything about the people having such strength. He rested alone in a tree at the top of a hill in the village, and was grateful that it at least wasn’t cold. However, he was filled with apprehension. The previous two days had gone well. Too well for someone like him. All he could do was wait for things to inevitably go south.

Qrow was awoken by the sound of a scream. He quickly jumped out of the tree, but landed on his foot wrong and fell on his face. He quickly gets up and scans the area with his sword in hand. He notices that a kid is in front of him, protecting a shade.

“Don’t hurt him! He’s a good shade!” the kid pleas. Behind the child, the shade is cowering. Qrow then realizes that the two were probably just playing, and he heard laughter, not screaming.

“Don’t worry kid. If he’s a good shade, then I won’t hurt him.” He reassures as he sheaths Harbinger.

“Alright...” the kid says warily as she lowers her arms. From behind, the small shade seems to relax as well. “What were you doing sleeping in a tree anyways? Birds sleep in trees. Are you part bird or something?” the kids says, suspicious of Qrow.

“Nope, not part bird or anything.” he quickly clarifies. He’s technically not lying.

“What’s your name then, mister?” the child asks.

“Qrow.” he answers nervously. The child looks at the shade, and the shade looks back at her. Qrow knows that they know something is up.

“Ok then, Mister ‘not a bird’ Qrow. Wanna play with us?” she innocently asks, as if she weren’t just suspicious of him.

“No. No thanks, I’m good.” He says as he begins to back away.

“Sure?” she says. The shade comes forth, saying something in its odd voice as it holds out a palm full of worms. “We were just digging for worms. Don't you think that’s fun?”

“That’s, that’s good for you. I’m not interested though. I really should get going.” he lightly laughs to counteract the heaviness around him. The worms do seem enticing. The shade mumbles something again, and holds out some shiny objects. Qrow begins to sweat.

“Or maybe we could play with these shiny toys? They’re sooo shiny.” she smiles as she tempts him as she holds one up to the sun, making it sparkle brilliantly. He almost can’t handle it. He can’t handle it. With a loud caw, he transforms in an instant, and flies away.

“HA! YOU WERE RIGHT!” he hears her shout as he makes his escape. “You were right! He was magic! That’s how he lasted that long against Popola! I knew you were right!” Turning his head to look back, he sees the two dancing with each other, sharing their small victory. It was heartwarming, even if it felt like he was just being interrogated by them. However, he wonders why his avian urges were so strong. He chalks it up to his bad luck.

Since he was already flying, he decides to see if he can find that group of kids. He sees them in the plains below. And they’re riding huge, wild boars. They’re all laughing and screaming in wild joy as they head towards the town in the cliff face. However, he notices that the demeanor in the woman seems tense. He remembers that she lived there, and might have some bad memories of the place. He’s glad she had her friends with her though.

As they entered the cavern, he flew overhead and took the time to scan the town. It seemed no different than when he first saw it, save for a small gathering of people on one of the large platforms. He imagines that’s where they’re heading, but he knows he could be wrong. He perched on a wire above the group of merchants and customers.

“There they are.” One person says.

“Ok, get ready. Act like we planned.” whispers another.

“Did you say something?” asks one of the merchants.

“Huh, oh, no. I just remembered something.”

“Ah, ok.”

That’s not suspicious at all. Qrow thought to himself. He kept himself alert. The guy with the white book finally entered the little market. He hopped up the wire to see if he could find where the others were, and found them waiting at the entrance. They appeared to be chatting with each other.

Down below, he heard the book and the guy making small talk with the people there, and buying a few things.

“Everyone? Every one? Every one? Everyoneeveryoneeveryoneeveryoneeveryone…” said a guard as his voice morphed into the sound of a shade. And in a puff of smoke, he and a few others transformed into shades.

“Crap, an ambush.” Nier said.

“So it seems.” Weiss commented.

From his vantage point, Qrow could see more shades gathering around the other parts of the village. He decided then that now was the time to help.

He flies to a bridge where more shades have gathered, and with the slash of his sword, he sends them flying back. A few fall off the bridge to whatever lies below, but more shades manifest to take their place.

“Forget how to actually kill a shade, old man?” berates the female teen as she slashes through slade after shade on the other side of the bridge.

“Hey! I’m not old!” Qrow answers back.

“Then start killing them properly, or leave, dumbass. Rubrum, play Cold Steel Coffin.”

“Ooh, nice choice.” The red book compliments as she opens up and flies through her pages. “Tear those blood bags to shreds!” From her pages flows a song in an unknown tongue.

Vlee sieh tah, Vlee sieh reeh, Vlee raun stee yah, Vlee yon ston reeh. Begins the powerful, almost terrifying song. Kainé tears through the shades with even greater ferocity than before, their blood devoured by the red book as the volume intensifies.

“Kickass!” she shouts as a shade is torn to shreds, as promised. Her movements become quicker and quicker, stronger and stronger, and before Qrow can take care of even five, she’s already taken care of the rest of the shades on that bridge. “Out of my way old timer!” she says as she rushes past him.

“Kainé! Hold on!” Qrow hears a boy shout.

“Yeah, hold up!” A girl also shouts.

“We’re sorry about her.” The girl says.

“She just really gets into it when Rubrum plays a cool song.” The boy says.

“So, what’s your name? I’m Halua, and this is my twin brother.” she introduces.

“Hello, I’m Emil. It’s nice to meet you.” he says with a slight bow.

“Qrow. Nice to meet you two. We should chat later though, huh?”

“Oh, you’re right. We really should. Hm, follow me Emil.” she says.

“Okay!” he replies as he takes her hand. They proceed to walk off the bridge, and onto the empty air as if it were solid ground.

Nobody bats an eye at the two, but Qrow. The sound of a shade screaming right in front of his face scares him, and he jumps off the bridge. He turns into a bird to fly back up, but rather than his wings, he is instead brought back up by some unknown force.

“Huh? A bird?” Halua questions.

“You can turn people into birds? That’s new. Do you think you can turn me into a parrot later? I always wanted to be a colorful parrot!” Emil exclaims happily.

“Nooo. Waaaait… Qrowwww… Crowwwww… Sorry mister, I’ll let you go now!” she shouts from the center of the canyon as she releases her magical grip on him. “Let’s get back to this. Tell me when it sounds right.” she tells Emil as they toy with a glyph.

“What the hell???” he wonders. It’s the second time that day a kid guessed his magical secret. What that said about the adults in Remnant wasn’t good. Then again, it wasn’t like magic was common in Remnant.

He shifts back into a human and gets back to taking care of shades. By now, the song echoed through The Aerie for all to hear and empower. Qrow had to admit that it did help with the fighting, as it paired well with his fighting style. Despite the toughness of their armor and tendency to block, he soon finds himself flying through shade after shade at a good pace.

Everynow and then, he takes a look at one of the kids to see how they’re holding up. The villagers at the tavern had evidently placed their praise well. Nier and Weiss work as an experienced duo, efficient, clean, and powerful. Kainé and Rubrum, all Kainé really, were a shade killing machine. They are brutal, swift, and deadly. While Kainé hacks, Rubrum dances to the beat of the song as best a book can. Then it seems as if the young twins then appear to have finished their task.

“There! That’s it” Emil says excitedly.

“Alright. Applying the buff!” she announces. With an otherworldly, fear-inducing glow surrounding her, she absorbs the glyph, and Qrow finds that Harbinger is glowing as well. Looking around, he sees that Nier and Kainé’s weapons are glowing as well. A quick slash of the scythe shows what the buff was: armor nullification. Harbinger went through the armor harming the shade underneath.

“Fuck yeah!” Kainé yells with joy.

“Will she ever learn to hold her tongue around them?” Weiss wondered.

“Fuck yeah!” Emil and Halua echo as they jump with joy.

“I think it might be a little late for that, boo─ Grimoire Weiss.” Qrow corrected before he could finish.

“Well, at least someone has the decency to respectfully use my full name. Who might you be anyways?” Weiss asks

“Qrow. It looked like you guys could use some help, so here I am.” He responds.

“That’s nice of you, but─” Nier begins before being cut off by Weiss.

“Shush! No buts! We’re taking all the help we can get. Bah! Teenagers!” Weiss says as he shakes his head, or that’s what it looks like he’s doing.

“Don’t worry Weissy, we’ll be good teenagers when we grow up!” Halua says earnestly as she and Emil join them.

“But I wanna be like Kainé! She’s awesome!” Emil argues.

“Sorry Weissy, nevermind.”

“Apologize not. This old book has given up hope long ago.” he says tiredly.

“Done!” They hear Kainé probably declare as she joins them.

“Another day of honest work is complete!” Rubrum chimes as the song fades out. Slowly, they all begin to notice the ominous, dark mist that vibrates all around The Aerie.

“Rubrum! This is why you have to be more careful with the songs!” Nier reprimands.

“Oh calm down you big baby.” she tells him without a care in the world. “Like I said last time, it’s nothing we won’t be able to handle.”

“Last time?” Qrow asks.

“We were relaxing on the beach, and she was playing Repose. We even didn’t notice the giant shade in the ship.”

“Hey, things ended up alright, didn’t they?” she defended herself.

“I broke an arm! The mailman almost died! Halua was tired out for a week!”

“Well your arm’s okay now, the mailman is still alive, and Halua recovered. What’s your point?” she told him. Nier growled in frustration as he covered his face.

“Lose later Nier, we have a new friend to make.” Kainé smiled cruelly.

Before them, in the center of The Aerie, a giant shade formed. It was unlike previous shades. Its size made it in a part of a very small class of shades. It was a perfect, dark sphere. Tendrils, or perhaps tails, slithered to and fro to reveal what seemed to be an eye in the center. Its roar could be felt as it traveled through the air, rattling their bones through their flesh.

“Emil! Halua!” Weiss shouted.

“On it!” they answered, and began to manipulate a new glyph.

“Until they’re done, we’ll practice the tried and true method of concussive maintenance.” Weiss continues.

“If it worked on a grimoire, what wouldn't it work on?” Rubrum added.

“Emil and Halua.” Kainé answered.

“Dare I ask again?” Qrow dared to ask.

“Does it look like we have the time?” Weiss responded. As the monster appeared to wind up for an attack.

“Nope.”

With such a monstrosity, Qrow expected it to whip its many tentacles at them, or attack with some kind of magical energy. He expected wrong. It unleashed some kind of gas, a sickly pale green color. They all had no chance to try to avoid it.

What are you even doing here? You’re just endangering those kids. Don’t you know that, idiot? Or maybe you want bad things to happen to them? Why stop there? Make everyone as miserable as you! Oh wait, you already do that, you pathetic excuse for a human.

“I do, don’t I? That’s all I ever do, bring everyone bad luck and make them miserable. Why am I still here? I─”

“I am just a freak. I shouldn’t be here, near anyone. A monster with a cursed body like mine shouldn’t even exist…”

“Why is a broken guy like me even here? I don’t want to be here in this terrible world. It would be easier if I were gone.”

“I need to be alone. I need to be alone. They can’t turn to stone that way. If I never look at them, if I’m never close to them, my cursed eyes can't petrify them.”

“I’m just a weapon. That’s all I was ever good for. I couldn’t even protect Emil. A weapon like me shouldn’t exist. I never wanted this. I never wanted to be this...”

“I─ I─ I─ Snap out of it! Quit saying those things! Snap out of it!” Qrow yelled to the children.

“Use a song!” Weiss shouted as he fended off the shades as best he could.

“I have to find a proper one, or be given one! You know how this works!” Rubrum frustratedly replied. “God shit fuck!” she cursed as more and more shades inched closer, and closer.

“Hey, Rubrum, find one for me!” Qrow requested. All he knew he could do was protect the kids. “Weiss, try to wake them!”

“Scanning…” Rubrum said as Qrow began to attack the shades. “Searching… Found one. Ooh! She’s a beauty!” The song starts calmly enough. It gets a simple rhythm going in him, then…

Pain! Is your reward for being near me. Fate! Won't be your friend when I’m around. Blame! Me for the tragedy that follow. Grave! The situation that surround. …

Unfortunately for the armored shades, Halua’s buff was still active. They were felled easily, feeding more and more blood to the red book. More and more blood, more and more song and power, it was intoxicating.

“Blood!” she giggles. “Blood blood blood blood, blood!” She spins and twirls in ecstacy. “Make this song the end of the shades!” Qrow was happy to oblige. A tendril accidentally pierces an ally, a shade trips and runs its sword through another.

“Misfortune wins again!” Qrow laughs as he ends another shade. “I’ll bring you down! I’ll bring you all down!” he announces to his enemies.

His misfortune finally targets him when he gets unlucky and the last shade pins his cape down, causing him to fall onto Halua, waking her in the process.

“Huh?! What!?” she says, confused, having been broken out of the trance..

“I need to be alone… So my eyes won’t hurt anyone… Alone…”

“What? Emil, no, don’t say that!” she tells her brother. She then turns to the giant shade with fury in her eyes. The air becomes heavy, and the last shade runs away in fear..

“Weiss, Rubrum, get them out of here.” she orders. An image of a skeletal beast flickers around her. “Mister, get Emil for me.” He obeys, and picks up the child.

“What about you?” he asks her.

“Just get Emil to safety.” she solemnly tells him as she summons a glyph in front of her. The shade strikes it, but screeches in pain as dangerous power cackled from it in defense.

“You better come back safe too, kid.” he tells her.

“I will. Rubrum? Can you play the song? I need to be able to hear it too.”

“Sure can do. I have more than enough blood for that. And remember Halua, we’ll be with you no matter what.”

“We are a family, after all” Weiss says. Halua smiles, and the beast appears for a split second once more.

“I know.” The song begins, calm and soft with its ethereal vocalization.

Kaun mon-no ruutra, Kaun oulvadei-gyaiya, Droh fee lai-narszes, Whoul sheeg-ma rae, Restivaun, Whoul vajei hli mehg jzu, Sii-kyathrae, Whestel-ou har thehgehy, Quin-deskuel, Shoul-yaneiyan …

Soon, the song becomes not just calm and soft, but powerful and imposing as well. From the safety at the top of the canyon, the song echoes below. Qrow can see the beast flickering in and out of reality more and more.

“Earthly Zenith of Modernity, The uncontrollable might of solitons, The spiritus that threatens to devour all, Avenge and atone in the name of all that is accursed! Number Six!” Halua yelled as she activated the glyph. “Deconstruct!” The beast appears from behind her, and consumes her with a bone-chilling cry.

“What is that?” Qrow asks in terror with his mouth agape. Emil awoke and jumped out of his arms.

“It’s my sister, Number Six, The Ultimate Weapon. We were made to be weapons long ago.” Emil explains as he faces his sister, sensing the intense and unparalleled magic.

“What you are witnessing is perhaps the most powerful magic in all the world, much more powerful than even a grimoire.” Weiss reveals as The Ultimate Weapon latches onto the large shade and tries to tear through its protective tendrils.

“Mmnnn,” Kainé groans, “What the hell happened?” Number Six lets out a piercing screech as she jumps to cling to a cliff, and fires a beam of energy that the giant shade just barely avoids. The spot where the beam hit is pulverized into nothingness for who knows how deep. Quickly, Kainé jumps up to see her. “Halua! Halua! Goddammit!”

“Is she gonna be alright?” Qrow hopes she will be.

“She will recover, just like last time.” Weiss answers confidently. “But...”

Finally, she had the shade cornered. She howls as the song begins its closing. Cowering in horror, the shade makes a last ditch attempt to win, firing a volley of magic at Number Six. She is unphased as The Ultimate Weapon activates its true might. A bright light begins to grow from where they are. At a steady pace, it swells and devours the shade and everything else in the vicinity, turning it all into nothing. When The Ultimate Weapon deactivates, an unflinching Halua, eyes glowing a dull red, stands where Number Six once was.

“Are you sure you guys are alright with me being around?”

“Yeah old timer, we’re sure.” Kainé assures him.

“It’ll be only for a few days anyways, like you said.” Nier adds.

“Besides, fuckers like us have to stick together.” she reasons.

“And if the world can’t handle us, we’ve gotta find other fuckers who can!” Rubrum exclaims joyously.

“In a sense, we create a world of our own.” Weiss states.

“That’s… a nice way to think of it. A world of our own, one that’ll accept a bad luck charm like me. I like the sound of that.”

Qrow had arrived right in the path of a large rock that was hurled from below. He let out a pained caw as it struck him as he fell. It hurt like hell, but honestly, he was used to such inconveniences.

“Kainé! You hit that poor bird!” berated a child’s voice.

“What? It’s not my fault the damn thing came out of nowhere.” a woman said as she tore through a shadowy monster and looked up. “Wait, that’s not a bird. It’s a guy?”

“It is!” Emil gasped as he saw that Kainé was indeed right. “Don’t worry mister, I’ll save you!” With a wave of his staff, he slowed Qrow’s descent and uprighted him. Lightly, he landed on the ground. “Hmm?” Emil said as he cocked his uncanny head in confusion.

Qrow, meanwhile, realized that this was where the voice of the child was coming from. But he had little time to ponder the realization, as he sensed an enemy nearby, a skill honed from all his years as a huntsman. Swiftly, he unsheathes his sword and slashes at the shade to send it backwards. The lady in lingerie, Kainé, followed up and stabbed the shade in the chest, pinning it to the ground.

“Gawk later Emil.” she tells him as she extracts her sword and moves onto the next enemy.

“R─Right!” he says in an embarrassed tone. “Sorry mister!” he apologizes as he returns to fighting.

“Don’t worry about it kid.” Qrow replies as he joins the fray to help finish off the last of the little shadowy demons.

“So, who the hell are you?” Kainé asks him.

“Qrow.” he answers.

“A better question is, how does a man end up so high in the sky?” the book inquired.

“Ooh, I know that! It was magic!” Emil excitedly answered. “You were the bird Kainé hit huh?”

“Yeah, and it hurt.” an irritated Qrow said as he took a quick drink from his flask. Normally, it would be good to hide his little talent, but there was no reason to try to hide it now that the kid could sense the magic.

“Well damn. That sucks.” she replies nonchalantly.

“Weren’t you ever taught some manners?” he jabs.

“You’re wasting your time with this hussy. Manners are as foreign to her as proper attire.”

“Why don’t you two go and do whatever the fuck it is old timers like you do and shut up?” she jabs back.

“Hey Emil, how were you able to tell it was magic anyways?” Nier asks as they continue arguing. He is mostly unphased by their conversation, and the fact that the man is walking with them to the boat, even though he could just leave. A man falling out of the sky and joining them hardly compared to a kid getting consumed by his weaponized sister, and then joining him.

“Hey! I’m not even that old!”

“And my age is a symbol of my infinite wisdom and arcane power!”

“I just sensed it. It’s different from Weiss’ magic though, and Kainé’s and mine too.”

“Weird.” Nier commented. “Hey, uh, Qrow?”

“What now?”

“What kind of magic do you have?”

“Hell if I know. It was a gift from a friend of mine.” he answers. “What about the rest of you?”

“Mine is from my sister. We were experimental weapons.” he answers solemnly.

“Wha─??”

“It is a sad, and long story.” Weiss says.

“Still, it’s pretty cool that you’re an ultra powerful weapon though.” Nier says.

“Yeah, it’s pretty fucking kickass.” Kainé adds on. “Way cooler than some boring old book.”

“Aww, you guys...” he says shyly.

“I’ll have you know that my magic is far older than you can even fathom, hussy. But I unfortunately cannot answer your question because someone,” he paused as he looked specifically at Nier, “found it acceptable to perform concussive maintenance on The Grimoire Weiss.”

“I said I was sorry like a million times already.” Nier exaggerated.

“You are fortunate you have my mercies.”

“As always Wiess, as always. But, we’re here.” Nier says as they arrive at the boat.

“I’ll go ahead and scout the area. That tower place, I’m guessing? I’ll let you know if I see anything unusual.” Qrow tells them as he shifts to his avian form.

“Hey, wait, don’t you want to─ Aww, he’s gone.” Emil lamented as Qrow flew away.

Qrow scans the backside of the structure. It’s a bunch of shoddy workmanship. Loose planks of wood, metal poles, and cheap ladders are what make up this sorry excuse. But oddly, it does not appear to be old. In fact, it seemed like a recent addition to the place. Nothing is rusted, and none of the wood is rotten either. A few shades even jumped about, and nothing creaks or breaks. It is suspicious, and screams that this is a set up.

Regardless, he defeats about half the shades that lingered on the platforms built into the stone by the time the boat arrives. They’re tougher than the ones on the plain, but they fall just the same, into a dark smoke, and then into nothing. Despite how uncanny it was that slicing into them felt somewhat akin to slicing aura, they were otherwise oddly reminiscent of grimm. What wasn’t reminiscent of a grimm was their ability to bleed.

“Damn, save some for the rest of us!” Kainé yells. “Some of us have a bone to pick with the fuckers!”

“Quit crying and hurry up then!” he shouts to her down below. “Damn kid…” he complains as he takes a small drink from his flask. For all he knows, he won’t be able to refill it anytime soon.

Kainé swiftly jumps up a few platforms above him and starts her slaughter. While Nier and Weiss slowly make their way up, taking care of the few shades that happen to appear, Emil floats up to Qrow.

“So mister, where are you from?” he asks curiously as he floats a few feet away from the platform.

“A place called Remnant.”

“Well that’s an odd name. What’s it a remnant of?”

“It’s just what we’ve called it. Don’t know why either.” Qrow answered as he climbed up a ladder.

“Oh… Well how about your name? Did you get it after the magic, or was it a cool coincidence?”

“It was the name I was born with. Can’t say if I know it’s a coincidence though.” Qrow quickly replied.

“Emil,” interjected Weiss, “leave the poor man alone. He appears to be tired of your barrage of questioning.”

“It’s fine.” he responded. “I’m used to this kinda thing.”

“If you insist.” the book replied in his snotty tone. Something about it seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite put it on his finger yet.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna be a bother.”

“If I can handle my two little girls, I can handle a single kid. Don’t worry about it. But─” He was cut off by a loud and excited gasp from Emil.

“Oh my god! You have two daughters? I bet they’re adorable!”

“What? No. I mean, they are adorable, but they’re not my daughters. They’re my nieces.”

“You just said they were your kids, dumbass.”

“How about you mind your own business?”

“How about I─” she began before her heel got caught in a gap in the planks of wood, causing her to fall backwards. “Ack! Fucking bitch! Stupidass wood!” she cursed as she got up and angrily punted the guilty board.

“Kainé! Look out!” Emil warns her.

“What?” she turns to see a shade about to strike her, and that it is too late to react. Ooh it’s gonna be my turn soon, Sunshine! Bwahahaha!

To her surprise, and Tyrann’s, they don’t feel the slash of the shade’s sword. Qrow is in front of her, blocking the attack. He knocks away the weapon, and brings the shade to its demise.

“I’ll be up top.” is all he tells her before he flies away.

“Hey, wait up! I’ll join you!” Emil says as he follows the black bird.

“Did you scare him off already?” Kainé hears the book assume.

“What happened?” Nier asks as he and the grimoire neared her.

“Shut up. He just went off on his own for no damn reason.”

“Hmm. Odd guy huh?” Nier asked no one, as Kainé and Weiss were already beginning the hour’s bickering.

Meanwhile, Emil chased after the man, wondering why he seemed so insistent on being alone. He didn’t seem like a bad guy who had anything bad to hide. Then again, looks could be deceiving. Emil knew that very well. Emil concluded that it was perhaps something about himself the man was hiding, maybe something he was ashamed of. Kainé was like that at first, and he probably would have really been like that without her.

“I’m here!” Emil announced once he caught up with Qrow. “Man, you fly fast.”

“Wouldn’t you rather be with your friends, kid?” he questioned the kid.

“Ohh, I don’t mind. I just wouldn’t want you to be alone. Being alone sucks most of the time, huh?”

“Meh. I’m used to it.” he waved dismissively, taking a small drink from his flask.

“Still, it’s better to be friends than alone.”

“Not always, kid.”

“Not always?! It’s always better to be with friends!” Emil shouted, to which Qrow winced at the young boy’s volume. “Oh, sorry.”

“It’s fine. But I just prefer to be alone.” Qrow said as he took a seat.

“Why?” Emil asked. He could see that Qrow was thinking.

“Back in my world,” he began, “everyone has a sort of ‘magic’ more or less unique to them. We call it a semblance, and mine is Misfortune. It brings bad luck to anyone nearby. I’m sure you can see why now.”

“Hmm, I do see. … Well, that’s alright. I’d still rather be here with you than let you be alone.” He could see that Qrow froze for a moment, as if the words were somehow familiar, then he regained his composure and let out a short chuckle.

“You’re a funny kid, you know?” Qrow joked.

“Im serious! I know I only sound like a little kid, but I’m older than you!” Emil fussed.

“Yeah, let me guess, a thousand years old?”

“Mmm,” Emil pondered, “somewhere around there.” Qrow looked at him as if he were telling an obvious lie.

“Well, I guess I should explain. You told me something about you, and I’ll tell you something about myself. It’s not a very happy story though.” Emil sat down to tell the tale of him and his sister.

“And so, Emil and Halua Grimm became the most powerful weapons in the world.” He finished wistfully.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” Qrow said solemnly.

“Yeah… But at least it led me to Nier, Weiss, and Kainé. I wouldn’t trade my time with them for anything. Okay! Now tell me something about yourself!” Qrow was shocked by the sudden shift in mood, but was happy to entertain the child.

“My name is Qrow, with a “q”, and my last name is Branwen, though that’s just the name of the tribe I grew up in. So, would your name happen to be spelled with two “m”s?”

“Yeah. Me and Halua always wondered why though. Do you think you could know why?”

“Well, like this world has Shades, my world has Grimm. I think it’s just a coincidence though.” Qrow says as he takes a sip. “Besides, you’re a hell of a lot better than any Grimm back home.” It was hard to discern, but Qrow could tell he was happier than before. That made him happier too. “So, were your eyes silver, by any chance?”

“No,” Emil began somewhat shyly, “they were more of a really light purple. Though, I think they were a different color before I gained my petrification, but I can't remember what color exactly if they were different.. Could people with silver eyes petrify things in your world?”

“They could petrify Grimm. That’s about it though. But, people with silver eyes are said to be destined to become great warriors.”

“I think Nier said that Yonah had silver eyes.” Emil mentioned.

"What about Yonah?" They heard Nier say as he climbed up to where the two were sitting. At their own paces, the two got up.

"That she has silver eyes, right? Qrow said that in his world, they become awesome fighters!"

"Hmm… I don’t think she’s fit for the warrior lifestyle. But, if it’s a sigh that she'll live a longer life, I'll take it. But until then,"

"We keep on going, yeah, yeah. Let's hurry up already." Kainé interrupted as she kicked the rock blocking their entrance out of the way. "I haven't killed enough shithole shades for today."

"The hussy is right that we should move along. The sooner we take care of things, the better." Weiss stated as he ushered them in.

Once inside, the place was virtually unchanged since Nier's last visit. Kainé didn't think much of the place. Weiss seemed shocked that this was the place where he was stored. Emil, however, was clearly enamored by the place.

"Wowww… this place is pretty, isn't it?" He praised quietly as he floated over towards the center where the towering tree stood. There, warm sunlight filtered through, alleviating the coldness of rusting metal and decaying concrete.

"Hmm. It would be a nice place to relax for a little bit." Qrow responds as he follows Emil. It's quiet and calm there. He thinks it could have been a hotel, based on the layout.

"Not while shades are here though." Nier commented as the soulless monsters readied to fight.

Promptly, the group got to culling the local shade population. Swords galore, magic, and a favored spear, all end the lives of the shadowy entities. Some are even left petrified.

"Emil, you can still petrify shit?" Kainé asks him out of curiosity.

"Yeah, I, um..." he begins as if feeling guilty.

"Sweet. Smashing stone shades really hits the spot." Kainé smiled cruelly as she reduced a statue to rubble. "Ahh, that felt bitchin'."

Briefly, Qrow contemplated if he should allow himself to cuss. On one hand, he would feel a lot better. On the other, he was just starting to be able to control his tongue around Ruby and Yang, and he didn't want to undo his hard work. It took a lot more effort than he would have wanted to admit.

"Hey, Qrow?" Nier called to get his attention.

"Yeah?" Qrow called back before tripping over a stair step and hitting his head. "Fucking stair!" he snarled. Cussing was fine so long as it wasn't around Ruby and Yang, he decided. If he wasn't around them, it was alright. He then noticed the shade above him.

"I've got you!" Emil shouted. Swiftly, it was petrified, and then destroyed by Kainé.

"Careful old timer." Kainé warned as she helped him up. "Can't have your ass dying on us."

"Such a kind soul you have, helping an old man like me." he teased.

"Pft." she responded as she rolled her eyes. She heard a snicker come from Weiss and snapped her neck at him. "Got somethin to say, book?"

"Oh, to a kind, young woman such as yourself? Heavens no." He replied.

"If you say so, Weissy." she glared at him with an innocent grin. As they continued their trademark bickering, with Emil joining in to unwittingly embarrass both of them, Nier returned to his conversation with Qrow.

"So, what else can you tell me about those silver eyed fighters?" Nier questioned as he stabbed another shade through it's armor.

"Back in my world, they're a myth at most to many. But, they do exist. With their eyes alone, they can take down hordes of Grimm. I guess the equivalent here would be Shades."

"I’d just be happy if Yonah could even go a day without needing a nap, if I'm being honest."

"What's wrong with her?"

"The Black Scrawl. There's no cure for it yet, but I'll take any kind hope I can get. As long as she's alive, even if it's risky like this, I'll be happy."

Qrow knew that there was probably no way the power of silver eyes would be in this world, but who honestly knew. Besides, he also knew that people needed all the hope they could get, even if he himself has mostly given up on the notion of hope..

"It's also genetic. Either of your parents had silver eyes?" Qrow asks

"Well, my mom did. I got my dad's eyes, but we both have his hair color. … Hmm, they were both great people. My mom was a good fighter too." He said fondly. “But when the Scrawl started to take over her, she had weird dreams. She said she saw weird but huge rectangular structures that went high into the sky, and things that moved on wheels at unnatural speeds."

"It sounds like she saw a city. Maybe one from before whatever happened that made this world like this." Qrow commented as he and Kainé slashed away at a huge shade.

"She also… she also had nightmares. In them, she fought these pale white beasts with glowing red eyes she said she fought them with incredible powers, powers like Emil's…" Nier had never really connected the dots before. It was just something he had never considered, always too busy with other things to reminisce about his mother like this.

…

No response. It was quiet.

"Huh?" He said in confusion as he looked around. Kainé and Qrow were gone. "Emil! Get close to me!"

"Huh? What?! Where'd they go?!" Emil questioned as he noticed the disappearance of his friends.

"It could be a shade, one with powers previously unknown to us. We should stay close to each other." Weiss advised.

"Right!" Emil nodded. Cautiously, they circled about, looking all over to see if they could spot anything unusual, and fending off the few shades that remained on the floor..

"I can sense some strong magic nearby, but I cannot pinpoint where. Can you two here us!" Emil shouted out.

"Perhaps w─" Weiss's words were interrupted by a sudden crash that caused the floor to give way beneath Nier.

"I got you!" Emil said as he lunged for. Nier. But, his efforts were for naught. He too was mysteriously swept away by a shadow. Thinking fast, Nier stabbed his sword into the wall to slow his fall.

“What kind of shade is that?! What did it do to them?!” he shouted as he landed.

“We are in the presence of a powerful shade, one capable of using incredible magic. They’re still alive, I know that much. If we kill it, it’s magic should be undone!” Weiss replied.

“All we have to do is find it then.” Easier said than done, but, it would be done.

Silently, they were back to back, waiting in anticipation for an attack. Nier was tense, ready to pounce at the vile shade. Weiss readied a sealed verse, taut and set to pin down the enemy for the kill. Nier looked up, left, right, everywhere he could look, except for below himself, where his own shadow betrayed him.

With heavy breathing, Qrow opened his eyes to be surrounded by darkness. It wasn’t the darkness of a moonless night in the middle of nowhere. That did not even compare. This was an advanced darkness very few things in the world could compare to. In front of him lay an unknowing expanse, a field of nothingness, a─

“Turn around, dumbass.”

“Huh? Oh.” Qrow sighed as he stopped flailing about. There was Kainé and Emil. She was lulling about as Emil did… something magic related. They all floated in the void, but were otherwise perfectly fine.

“Make yourself comfortable, or whatever. Emil will get us out soon enough. I swear to hell I’m gonna tear the little shit stain that did this to fucking shreds.” she hissed.

“I take it this isn't a thing that happens everyday?”

“No.” Emil answers as he fiddles with a glyph. “The craziest things tend to be giant, monstrous shades every now and then. But we always take care of them!”

“Yeah, we take real good care of them, don't we, sunshine?” a cold, cruel, and sharp voice says from the unknown. Qrow knows that this voice is dangerous. He can sense it, so he held Harbinger out, prepared to strike. Emil notices the voice too, and hurries with his magic. Kainé is unphased, and rolls her eyes at the remark

“Show yourself!” Qrow shouted into the void. For a moment, he thinks it is the monster that captured them.

“Hmm? Ooh, they can hear me. Finally! Do you know how boring it can get just talking to one person? Real fucking boring.”

“Ugh, do you ever shut up? Like really? I could cut your tongue out and you’d still find a way to talk more than anyone else.” Kainé complains. But, she is justified in her grievance. “Hm? Oh. That’s just the shade that lives in me. Just ignore his bitchass.”

“Hello mister shade!” Emil greets innocently.

“You’re supposed to tell this one to fuck off, Emil.”

“Oh. Okay. Fuck off mister shade!” he corrects, and resumes his work.

“Adorable.” Tyrann deadpans. “So, dear black bird. What sort of atrocities are there in your home. I’d kill to know.”

“There’s the kinds of things that would kill you first.” he retorts. Qrow didn’t like this thing. If this was the standard for shades, then it was a good thing they were being slaughtered.

“Fat chance, but that sounds like my kind of place. Tell me, is the death slow and painful?” Qrow is disgusted as the thing laughs.

“You get used to it after a while.” Kainé shrugs. Before Qrow can respond, they’re on the roof, where Grimoire Weiss also is.

“It worked!” Emil triumphantly shouts

“GAH! Don't sneak up on me like that! You’re all fortunate I can’t get a heart attack!” Weiss berated.

“Where’s Nier?” Kainé demanded.

“Beyond this door, but, it is blocked by a magical barrier. If we all focus our attack on it, we should be able to break it.” Weiss explained, and on the count of three, magic assaulted the door Nier was behind, breaking it and the barrier. They could see the shadow descending down onto Nier.

“YOU WILL DIE YOU FILTHY BROTHER KILLER!” it screamed.

Thankfully, Emil was quick enough to cast a protective barrier around him. It floated in place as it attempted to break the barrier. Quickly, Qrow rushed at the thing, except he could see that it wasn’t exactly just anything. It was Hazel, possessed by a shade? Qrow had a million and one questions, but he had no time for them. He kicked the monstrous man and fired a bullet to his chest. He knew it wouldn’t be enough to take Hazel out, but it was enough to send him flying, flying back into the shadows.

“We’re not too late, are we?” Emil wondered.

“Nope. Just in time.” Nier responded gratefully as Qrow helped him up.

“Hold your conversing for later. More pressing issues are at hand.” Weiss reminded them as he floated back over to Nier.

“Right. Let’s just stay close together.” Qrow ordered. “He can't take us all on at once.”

With great tenseness, they all cautiously made their way out of the shrine. They eyed every shadow they passed, and relied mostly on ranged attacks to dispatch any brave shades that dared to attack. Only when they finally left the shrine and onto the boat did they all begin to feel safe, all but Qrow. Something wasn't sitting right with him, and it wasn't just Hazel appearing. He couldn't make a sound conclusion yet, but he knew he would in time

“That guy, he was possessed too, but it was different somehow.” Kainé revealed.

“I have some information that might help make sense of things. We should try to settle down first though.” Qrow suggested.

“Agreed.” Weiss concurred. “It has been a long day, and we’ll be much safer in the sunlight and the open field.”

With that, resident expert campers Kainé and Emil decided on a good spot to set up on. While Emil got the fire ready, which didn't take long thanks to magic, Kainé reaped some fresh mutton. Before long, a fresh meal was served. It was plain, of course, but it was warm, edible food, that didn't taste like an abomination, which Nier was particularly grateful for.

“Old timer,” Kainé began as she bit into a piece of meat, “what were you gonna say about that possessed guy?”

“He’s from your world, isn’t he?” Weiss guessed. Qrow nodded his head yes, and swallowed a bite.

“Hazel. He works for the woman that controls the monsters of my world. I’m sure that at least one of his goals is to get in the way of my mission.” Qrow said with annoyance. But, if anything, he expected Hazel or someone to show up sooner and pose a problem.

“Why would he focus on me then?” Nier wondered. “It’d make more sense for him to target you then.”

“Maybe it was the shade that possessed him?” Emil Suggested.

“Could be. It looked like the shade in him had a lot of control.” Kainé answered. She remembered how the massive fiend was covered almost head to toe in the shade pattern. Filthy brother killer, huh? Sounds like someone was having a lot of fun before we even came along. A man after your own heart, ey sunshine?

“But…” she continued, “he didn’t exactly seem out of control either.”

“Now that I think about it, the eyes seemed familiar. Remember those stone guardians that imprisoned you, Weiss?”

“Not fondly. It was hardly how a Grimoire such as myself should be greeted.” Weiss complained. “But, yes, why?”

“Remember that one of them had glowing red eyes? His had that glow to them.”

“I see now. My former wardens were siblings, and it appears as if one of them survived our initial attack and wants revenge.”

“And that would be a cause Hazel would sympathize with. I could be that they're in sync, rather than one of them being in control.” Qrow murmured as the gears in his head turned. Shades and Grimm appeared to have some similarities, so perhaps Salem had taken interest in that. After all, what better way to learn about the monsters than to become one?

"There's just one problem though, why would a shade have a brother? Shades don't have family." Emil reminded them.

"Just as I am a product of ancient magic that is unknown today, perhaps they are too. They may very well just be a special case of rare, ancient magic influencing an archaic pair of shades." Weiss reasoned.

Wanna tell them the truth? I wanna see the looks on their faces when they realize just what they've been killing! Ha ha haa!

"Doesn't matter. They're our enemy now." Kainé tells them firmly.

"Right. It doesn't matter what kind of shade they are. They're still a shade, and we have to kill them before they kill us." Nier affirmed after taking one last bite and letting out a long yawn.

"... You three get some sleep. Me and the book,"

"Grimoire Weiss." he interrupted to correct.

"Me and little Weissy Weiss here will keep watch." Qrow taunted. Qrow had to say he felt proud of himself when he saw the grimoire's reaction. It was like ruffling up an Atlesian, which always made him feel better.

"Oh joy. Another bane to my existence." Weiss commented sarcastically.

"Will you shut the fuck up already. We’re trying to sleep." Kainé

"And when you want some sleep, let me know. Don't feel bad or anything either. I hardly even need any sleep." Emil directed at Qrow.

"Sure thing." he answered.

As the hours progressed, Qrow and Weiss managed to turn civil with one another as Qrow sipped out of his flask every now and then. From Weiss, Qrow learned that blood and words were the focuses of the grimoire's magic. Blood was the physical component of the magic, and words were where the power resided. Although, the words used were a mystery much like the script that occasionally accompanied it.

In turn, Qrow shared the scant information he knew about magic. The most common magic of his world was elemental, the magic that belonged to the maidens. Then there was Oz. His powers included the elements as well. A simple way to understand the rest of his magic was that it concerned energy, the flow, transfer, and magnitude of it. A specific portion of that ability was given to him and his sister to aid them in their little parlor trick. Upon their deaths, that power would return to him.

And then there was the depraved woman known as Salem. The full extent of her powers was unknown to him. Power over the Grimm was an obvious magic of hers. He imagined her abilities included the elements as well, since it seemed to be a common magic. Beyond that, he could only guess with uncertainty.

“So, what about the magic that made you a book? I doubt you were always a grimoire.”

“Truth be told, I do not know if I ever was anyone or anything else. The best theory I have is that it involves humans of the old world. But, for what purpose I was intended to serve or how exactly I came to be, it is all hardly of any importance now.”

“Now?” Qrow wondered. The book looked around to make sure the kids were truly asleep.

“When Nier beat me out of my slumber, I only had my knowledge, no memories to speak of. Without him and my memories, I still could have done as I so pleased, but I did not because I couldn’t just let him end up hurt. And then it just so happened that our goals aligned. And then came the Shadowlord and Grimoire Noir. They almost succeeded in using me for what I can only assume was my purpose, but I eventually came to my senses thanks to a certain foul mouth. I didn’t want to leave them, you see.”

“Well aren’t you a big softie?” Qrow teased. He had a feeling the book would have rolled his eyes if he could have.

“You are a menace, second only to Kainé. But, I suppose I am. She is much the same. Therefore, I imagine you are much the same, hmm?” the grimoire accused.

“... I guess so.” Qrow admitted. “Can’t say it always feels good.”

“I imagine so.” The book commented as the man took the last drink of his canteen. “While it has been nice talking to someone who isn’t a moody teen, I’m sure you need some sleep.”

“Yeah. Some sleep sounds good.” He said as he gently awoke Emil, and took his place to rest for the “night.”

“So, where to next?” Qrow asked as he served himself a piece of mutton seasoned with nearby herbs courtesy of Emil.

“Back to the village. That was the best lead I had, and nothing came out of it. So I’ll have to see if Devola and Popola have any new information for me.” Nier answered.

“Me and Emil will be around then. See you two in a bit.”

“You two aren’t gonna go with us?” Qrow wondered.

“Yeah, the shitfaced villagers don’t really like us.” Kainé answered.

“So?”

“Devola and Popola thought it would be best if we stayed away so we didn’t scare them or anything.” Emil replied sadly.

“What? Do they own the place.”

“No, they do not, but─” Weiss was about to explain before being cut off.

“Who cares then. Come on Kainé, I never took you as someone who followed the rules like that stick in the mud over there.” Qrow taunted, referring to the book in the air.

“Alright then. Emil, we’re going to get in that dumbass village.” she said with finality.

“But what about the guards?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Hmm… Remember what I said about making people feel sorry?” she questioned him with a sinister smile.

“I do not like that look, hussy.”

“Fuck you.” she spat at the book and turned to Qrow. “And we have just the perfect prop.”

Two guards are stationed atop the gate see Nier and his friends rush to the gate. It’s difficult to tell, but one of the two outsides appeared to be holding a blob of black in their hands.

“Oh god it’s them again.” says one.

“What do we do? Popola said they wouldn’t be a problem.” said the other.

“Okay, let’s just remind them. Maybe they forgot.” guard A suggested doubtful they indeed forgot.

“Did you forget they have magic?!” guard B shouted quietly and fearfully as they neared.

“Shit.”

“Hey! You gotta let us in!” Nier shouted.

“Please, we have to help this poor bird!” Emil begged as the black bird twitched in his boney hands.

“I just couldn’t leave it to die at the hands of a shade,” Kainé began innocently, “Just like when I saved you two from that giant shade.” Her voice had added just a bit of edge to it, enough for the guards to feel the weight of her words.

“Or like when I helped fight the Shadowlord when everyone else ran away! Or when Kainé saved Yonah when no one else could!” Emil added.

“Won’t you please let us in? All so we can help this poor little birdy here?” At that moment, the crow let out a wheeze of a caw. The guards could not still help but feel somewhat threatened. But, despite this, they conceded.

“Fine. Just… neh. Nevermind.” One said with defeat.

“Thank you so very much.” Kainé smiled.

“Yeah, thank you mister guards!” Emil thanked genuinely. “Don’t you worry little birdy, we’ll fix you up in no time.” he cooed.

“Thanks guys!” Nier waved as they passed through the gate. They all tried to hide their giggling as they made their way to nier’s home.

“Well, that went better than I imagined.” Weiss admitted. “And here I thought you were going to directly threaten them.”

“That was plan B.” Kainé told him.

“Of course it was.” he deadpanned.

“Cheer up. You guys’ll finally, really meet Yonah. She’s always wanted to thank you two properly.” Nier told them.

“Oh I’m so excited! Should we surprise her?” Emil suggested.

“Umm, probably not. She’ll probably faint. Okay, just wait here for a moment.” He said as they got to the front of the home, and he quickly went inside. After making sure none of the villagers were looking, Qrow turned back into his human form.

“Excited?” he asked the two.

“Eh, sure.” Kainé shrugged with nonchalance. But, she could not hide her smile.

“I am! Do you think she remembers what we looked like? Does my scarf look alright? I want to make a good impression.” Emil worried.

“I don’t really think she’ll care about that, kid. But,” he began as he fixed the green scarf, “it looks fine.”

“Alright come on in.” Nier said nervously. “Sorry if it looks messy, I tried to clean up a little but,”

“I’m so happy you’re all here!” Yonah shouted, interrupting her brother. “It’s nice to finally get the chance to talk with you two!” she said to Emil and Kainé.

“It’s nice to officially meet you Yonah.” Emil greeted.

“Yeah. If Nier’s not gonna shut up about you, we might as well meet you.” Kainé reasoned.

“And it’s nice to meet you too, mister Qrow. I’m glad Nier has another friend for me to meet!”

“No problem kid. It’s nice to meet you too.” he replied. She was an adorable little thing, reminding him of Ruby with her bubbly demeanor. It was also obvious she was her brother’s kid sister. They had that same white hair, and a similar facial structure. And now that he could see her eyes, they were indeed silver. But, it was likely that didn’t mean anything.

“Do you guys want a drink or anything?” Nier offered.

“How about I make them something! Nier says I make great food!” she beamed. Behind her, her brother’s eyes went wide with fear, an emotion any of them had rarely seen.

“No! I’ll buy something!” he quickly interjected. “It’s a special day. We should buy them some food from the village. You guys’ll like that, right?” he said as if it were a plea.

“Sure.” Kainé said indifferently. While she had heard of Yonah’s atrocious cooking, she wasn’t a wimp and would have taken some of her cooking just fine. But, she figured Nier could use a break.

“I’m fine with that.” Emil answered. While he too had heard of her cooking, he doubt he would have minded it anymore.

“... I’ll try some of your cooking.” Qrow told her. If Nier’s reaction was anything to go by, it was a very bad decision. But, he couldn’t stand to see her face droop down a little, even if it meant suffering a single poor meal. He was sure it couldn’t be that bad though.

“I’ll go to the market real quick then.” Nier said as he made his way to the door.

“Or, how about you let me and the grimoire go. You kids should stay here and have some fun.” Qrow suggested.

“By my word he can think! We’ll be back soon then. Don’t tear the house down.” Weiss quickly agreed before Nier could say no.

“No promises Weissy!” Yonah shouted as she waved a quick goodbye.

“Yeah Weissy, no promises.” Kainé teased. Once outside, they could hear the lively and joyful commotion as it just barely escaped the walls.

“A rare moment of peace and quiet, I must thank you for that at least.” Weiss thanked.

“I just didn’t want them to think I’d run with the money.” Qrow reasoned.

“Believe it or not, they’re rather trusting.”

“And it hasn’t come back to bite you yet?”

“No, surprisingly. Though I suppose that should be cause for concern. Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now.” Weiss dismissed as they passed the fountain, absent of Devola for once.

“Well, did you notice anything odd about the back of the building as we climbed up it?”

“Hmm… I can’t say that I do. All looked as a rock face should.”

“Even with the ladders and wooden planks?”

“Well of course! How else─ Ooh, I see! Based on the location, it all should have rotted or rusted away.” Weiss finally realized.

“But it wasn’t.”

“Begging the question of who set it there for us…”

“Any idea who that might be?” Qrow asked.

“Well, Popola said it was near a trade route, so it’s possible traders built it.”

“But why would they?” Qrow asked.

“Why indeed. There was no other activity in the shrine save for us and the shades. My, this is a most concerning conundrum.” Weiss worried. “But, a small break from that is in order. The market awaits us, and I doubt you know what they want.”

“And that is also what I brought you for. See, I can think.”

“Indeed you can.” Weiss replied. All in all, the book was rather surprised by the man. He was much more capable and intelligent than he looked or let on.

After gathering a few items, some healthy fruits, a few vegetables, some juice, and a bit of seasoned meat, they began to make their way back to the small home.

“So, any idea on who could set you all up?” Qrow asked.

“If someone is in fact steering us onto a path of their creation, I do not know who it could be. Such a person, or group, would have to have quite the amount of resources and power to do so, as I imagine they would have been doing so for some time.” Weiss answered.

“Yeah, there is the chance it could just be some odd coincidence or some rare natural phenomenon that preserved the metal and wood. But still, I’ve got a feeling something’s up.” Qrow reasoned. His instincts tended to be rather good after a lifetime of honing them.

“As do I. But, I believe we should not mention this to Nier and them. They’re all stressed enough as is, and this may not even be a real concern.” Weiss suggested. His unparalleled wisdom told him it would not be a bad idea to suspect some foul play.

“If you say so. In the meantime, I’ll be doing a bit of recon. Hold these.” he said as he handed Weiss the groceries, placing them in a magical hand.

“Such a waste of my talents.” he huffed. “But if you could, give Popola a visit at the library on the hill? Tell her what happened and see if she has any new information would you?” he requested.

“Consider it done Weissy.” Qrow taunted.

“I will enjoy seeing you eat the lass’s cooking.” he said ominously before Qrow left and he reentered the home.

After scanning the town for half an hour, Qrow had found nothing of interest, save for a shiny coin. He was sure it likely wasn’t worth much though. He then made his way to the library at the top of the hill. Once inside, he could see that it was a rather small library, but all things considered, impressive. A number of patrons were scanning the walls of their contents. He asked one of them to point him to Popola, and told him where she was.

Just as he stepped onto the stairs, he could have sworn he saw Ironwood. He looked back for a moment, and saw that no one was looking at the books by the stairs. Children’s books, by the looks of it. Qrow laughed at his mind playing such a trick on him. Qrow had no affinity for men like him, but, Ironwood was not a bad man. Not exactly a good one either but the same could be said for many. At the very least, he was easy on the eyes and a decent drinking buddy, and very fun to rile up.

After knocking on the door and waiting for an answer, he entered when Popola told him to come in. In there were two women, twins by the looks of it. The main difference was their auburn hair, more red than brown though. One had slightly messy hair, with it jutting out in some places, while the other’s was perfectly straight.

“Hmm? You’re a new face. I was kinda expecting Nier.” said the one with messy hair to her sister.

“I’m Popola, and this is my sister Devola. Is there anything we can help you with?” The twin at the desk asked.

“Yeah, I’m a friend of Nier’s.”

“Oh, is that so? I’m glad then.” Devola said.

“He needs all the help he can get. So, what was it you needed?” Popola added.

The two seemed innocent enough, but Qrow could just feel that something was up with them. Though, he could not tell if it was something good or bad. Time would tell.

“Nier’s with Yonah right now, so he wanted me to pass on some info.” He began. He went through the gist of what happened at the shrine, to the possessed human. Though, he left out the info about he and Hazel being from another world. Around these two, he wanted to feel secure and revealed as little about him and his situation as possible.

“I see. That is concerning.” Popola commented.

“The shades are becoming more and more brazen, huh?” Devola commented as she lounged on the couch.

“Any idea why?” he asked them.

“Their leader is the Shadowlord. Whatever the reason, its because of him. I’m surprised he hasn’t told you yet.” Devola responded nonchalantly.

“I’m sorry, but was that all? We were kinda in the middle of something.” Popola explained. Qrow wondered what exactly they were in the middle of, but knew he couldn’t just pry like that.

“Yeah. Nier wanted to know if you came across any new leads.”

“Yes actually.” she responded happily. She opened a drawer and pulled out a piece of paper and an oddly shaped piece of stone. “This is a part of the key to the Shadowlord’s castle.” she said as she handed him the paper and key piece. The Stone Guardian, Sacrifice, The Law of Robotics, Memory Tree, and Loyal Cerberus.

“We’re not sure what Sacrifice and Loyal Cerberus are referring to, but its likely that The Stone Guardian piece was somehow connected to Gretel at the shrine.” Devola began.

“The Law of Robotics likely concerns the junk heap, and Memory Tree may have something to do with the Forest of Myth.” Popola finished.

“Alright then, Thanks ladies. I’ll be sure to give him this stuff.” Qrow waved goodbye as he walked out.

“Of course. Take care now.” Popola said.

“Yeah, and make sure Nier stays safe, will you?” Devola requested with undeniable concern. Of course, he agreed to.

As he closed the door, Qrow wondered just how they knew the shade at the shrine had a name. That was most concerning and suspect. Just how they came into the possessions of the items was a suspicious mystery too. Not only that, why just ask to keep Nier safe? What about his friends? He may not have been as capable as them, very few likely were, but there was no doubt they could be hurt too.

And then the Shadowlord. Qrow thought he must be somewhat like Salem, a manipulator of shadowy beasts. It was safer to assume he was intelligent, and leading those kids down some path of his creation. But why? And there was still the concern of who was helping him, if there was anyone.

By the time he made it back to the house, his mind was running through the possibilities. He was glad he could run them by the grimoire. While somewhat annoying, he was no doubt wise and smart. Though, he was snapped out of his thoughts by a terrifying smell.

“Brothers, what is ─”

“You’re back!” Yonah exclaimed, holding out a pot of… something. He wondered how she made it an unnatural looking bright blue. He doubted she had food dye.

“Just in time for your dinner, it seems.” Weiss snickered. Qrow gulped.

“Looks… interesting.” He commented with a smile. He reminded himself he was doing this to make a sickly little girl happy.

“It’s an awesome color isn’t it? I wonder if I could get Sebastian to make something as cool looking as that.” Emil said.

“Not unless─” Weiss said as he was cut off by a jab to his spine and a dirty look from Nier.

“I guess I’ll try some. I doubt it would taste bad to me.” Kainé said.

“Not that it ever tastes bad!” Nier affirmed intensely.

“I’ll try some too then! Can’t let Mister Qrow have it all for himself. I think it smells good anyways, so that means it’ll taste good.” Emil said as a bowl was set before him. Next was Kainé, and finally Qrow.

“Are you sure you don’t want any, Nier? I made a lot more than I meant to.” she told him.

“Oh, no, I’m fine. I already ate a lot.” he reasoned. He was thankful she didn’t press any further.

“Okay, on the count of three, all of you take a sip!” she adorably ordered. “One… Two… Three!”

Each of them took down some of the soup. Nier covered his eyes as he did so, and prayed they would all act fine. When he didn’t hear anyone gag, he uncovered them to see the trio gulping down the soup.

“This is good.” Kainé said in between gulps.

“My word, this is the quietest I’ve ever seen her! … See! The hussy didn’t even bark back at me! What kind of enchantments do you use young Yonah? I must know!” Weiss insisted as he moved about in grimoire fashion. It made her giggle.

“It’s my secret!” she joked.

“It’s sweet and salty, with a bit of bitterness to even it out.” Emil explained. “I really like it.”

“I love it.” Qrow said as he savored it. There was definitely some alcohol in this, weak, but alcohol nonetheless. Just how she got some in there, he did not know. He wasn't going to complain or question it though. “Pour some in here for me, will you kid?” he said as he offered her his empty flask. The soup, if it could be called that, wasn’t anything strong, but it was free, and the best kind of booze is free booze.

“Of course mister!” she replied gleefully. Internally, Qrow laughed that he would get a refill from such a situation.

“Hmm… I guess I could try some.” Nier said after contemplating grabbing a spoon.

“Hey! Back off, or else!” Kainé threatened as he went for her bowl. Cautiously, he backed away.

“You can have some of mine.” Emil offered.

As Nier took a spoonful out of Emil’s bowl, he inspected it nervously. It did not smell good to him, and was beginning to regret his decision. But, Yonah was watching, so there was no backing away. Quickly, he took the spoon into his mouth. It was terrible. Either they were good liars, or they somehow all actually enjoyed it. Quickly, he swallowed it.

“That was… Great!” he tried to say with enthusiasm.

“I’m glad you like it! Here, have a bowl!” She said as she slid him a bowl.

“Oh no, I’m still to full Yonah, I─”

“Mine now.” Kainé announced as she stole the bowl and began to wolf it down. Qrow chuckled.

“More please!” Emil asked as he held out his bowl.

“Fill me up again, yeah?” Qrow asked as he offered his half empty bowl. Happily, she refilled both of their bowls.

“I’m so glad you all liked it!” she said, smiling brighter than the sun.

It made Nier the happiest among the group. Despite everything, she wanted to help, so seeing her actually able to do that made him feel a warm feeling he hadn’t felt in some time. She proudly placed the pot back on the stove and resumed eating her meal from earlier.

“Hey, you’re not gonna eat any?” Kainé questioned, hoping she wasn’t taking any food away from the little girl.

“Oh, no. It tastes terrible to me. Devola said that it’s because I have weird taste buds.” She answered cordially as she reheated some food from earlier. Nier lamented the fact that he didn’t think of that excuse for himself. Well, he could perhaps use it in the future, blame it on puberty or something if he had to.

After a day of rest in the home, the group decided to leave for the Junk Heap. Yonah begged for them to stay just a little longer, but Nier was quick to say he needed to take care of things. As she deflated, he was even quicker to remind her that they all had such a fun time together, and that they would do it again soon enough.

“So, what’s the junk heap like?” Qrow asked aloud.

“It’s in the name. It’s a heap of junk, duh.” Kainé sassed.

“To be precise, it’s a place filled to the brim with junk from the old world, before it regressed to become what it is now.” Weiss explained.

“There are a lot of machines there. They’re a mix of technology and magic. The world sure had a lot of power and knowledge back in the day.” Emil reminisced sadly.

“Well, the machines still break against our weapons, so the old world couldn’t have been that powerful if you ask me.” Nier added.

“Power alone only does so much. Still, let’s just hope we don’t have to spend more time than we need to. But, based on what your friends said, I’m thinking the piece might be tied to a specific machine. And that, might take some time.” Qrow lamented.

He had already learned some nice info about magic from Weiss, but it wasn’t enough to feel satisfactory. He doubted a place filled with machines would reveal much to him, even if they also were part magic. However, he was glad he was able to help these kids. That was a goal he came to value more than he originally thought he would.

When they made it to the entrance to the heap, Nier made one stop at the brother’s weaponsmith to see about upgrading Beastcurse. He left Emil, Qrow, and Kainé outside longer than he anticipated. Weiss expected some sort of verbal spat when he joined them back outside. To his surprise, the two were formally sparring, with Emil as their referee.

Kainé was strong and quick with her swords, but Qrow still surpassed her. Serrated blades screeched against the sword Harbinger. Weiss could see that it was a well crafted weapon. Their back and forth was a sight to behold, though Weiss was sure Kainé could beat him if she used her magic. With a skillful parry, Kainé was sent skidding back.

“You’re a pretty good fighter, no surprise there, but you could still use some more experience.” he told her.

“Experience this!” she yelled as she rushed at him. Once they met, a volley of exchanges could be heard echoing.

“Get his ass Kainé!” Emil cheered. So much for a clinical ref.

“You got him now Kainé!” Nier assured.

“Show that hussy the might of incomparable wisdom!” Weiss cheered on Qrow. Someone had to.

In one swift motion he kicked her away. And almost as if by magic, the blade transformed into a scythe before their eyes. Kainé, however, did not notice, and sped back to him for another assault. That was her error. The scythe hooked the blades out of her hands by their chain, and a low kick felled her to the ground.

“Like I said earlier, power alone only does so much.” He told her as he held out a hand to help her up. Rolling her eyes, she took the help.

“Yeah, whatever.” she said.

“Your weapon, how did it do that?” Nier wondered as Qrow handed Kainé back her swords.

“Huh, wait, when the fuck did that happen?” Kainé exclaimed as she noticed Harbinger’s new form.

“That?” he said as it transformed back into a sword. “In my world, this kind of thing is commonplace. Its just a series of gears and stuff. Nothing special.” he replied dismissively. “... Well, no. It is kinda special.” His weapon was a rather unique one, even among the many huntsmen of Remnant.

“Impressive indeed, but our fun has been had. We have a new clue on the Law of Robotics. There is a machine that has partnered with a shade. If there is anything that is our target, that must be it.” Weiss announced.

“Don't be such a stick in the mud, book. The fun doesn’t even have to end, you know.” Qrow told him as they made their way into the heap.

“There is such a thing as a time and a place, you know.” Weiss annoyingly reminded him.

“I’d say this is a good time and a place.” Qrow replied. Then, an idea came to him. “For example, this is a good time and place for a bet.”

“... Really? I never would have guessed.” he replied sarcastically. “Please impart your wisdom unto me, Grimoire Weiss, as to how this is the proper setting for what is likely a petty bet?”

“Simple. I bet I can teach beach day over here better than how you can teach big brother here.”

“Pah! Do you truly think a ruffian such as yourself would serve as a better instructor than me? I agree to your little bet. I am sure some humility will do you good, once you lose.”

“Hey! Who said I gave a shit about this?” Kainé protested. “I am not gonna spend some time listening to some old timer telling me how to fight.”

“Here take this then.” Nier said as he held out a large sword with a bird motif. “You can wield two swords like Kainé.”

“Uhh, are you sure? I mean─”

“Yes, it’s fine.” he assured. “I still have the spear and dagger anyways on me anyways. It’s no big deal.”

“If you say so.” he said as he somewhat reluctantly took the sword. Now, he matched Kainé with two swords in hand. Granted, his were larger and heavier and lacked the chains her sword had. Looking at the golden sword, it was rather simple. But, it did have a strong and unique silhouette.

“Good. With that settled, let this one-sided battle begin!” Weiss announced confidently.

“I still haven't agreed to this crap.” Kainé reminded them.

“Don’t worry. I was a combat teacher for a bit, and I was amazing.” Qrow proudly assured.

“Wait, what about me?” Emil asked.

“You’ll be our judge.” Qrow answered him.

“It is an important and honorable task, one I am sure you will perform well in.” Weiss added.

“Yes!” the little mage excitedly nodded. “Don’t you worry, I’ll be a great judge!”

“Ugh…” Kainé sighed as she rolled her eyes. Now she had to do it, for Emil.

“Hey, It’ll be fun, Kainé. If you end up winning, that means you’ll have helped beat Weiss in a bet too.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” she chuckled, a grin spreading across her face.

“It was nice knowing you, Weiss.” Nier said dejectedly.

“And what is that supposed to mean? I will not accept a defeatist attitude!” Weiss yelled affirmatively.

“Let’s show those losers how its done!” Kainé yelled excitedly as a wave of machines approached.

“Now you’re talking my language.” Qrow replied as he swiftly felled some machines in a display of bravado. The other sword, it felt surprisingly good in his hands, almost empowering as if by mysterious magic.

As they progressed, Weiss barked “tips” for Nier to follow. Most of the time, he followed them well. Nier didn’t mind. It was different fighting without Weiss’s magic, as he focused his attention onto studying Nier’s movements and technique, but Nier considered it a good challenge. Plus, it was safer to practice on the machines rather than shades. They had become more and more dangerous, just as he did. The machines remained much the same as they were when he last visited, and the time before that, and the time before that.

As for Qrow, he found that Kainé was difficult to teach, at first. She was a difficult person in general. But, he knew that he was too. In a sense, that made her easier to deal with. Qrow quickly found that she didn’t take well to being told what to do, even if it meant improving her fighting. What she did take well to was being shown what to do without being told to do it. She was someone who learned by observing, which is what he realized after going down the first elevator.

The machines at the lower levels of the Junk Heap were more of a challenge, but still nothing compared to their talent and skill. Dual wielding the large swords, many automatons were easily felled. Qrow had half a mind to take up dual wielding back home. An impressed Kainé followed in his footsteps, turning machines into scrap much more efficiently than before, and without the aid of magic.

However, Qrow’s semblance was starting to act up, and it was eating at him. Nier had tripped and nearly met the electric end of an automaton. And sure, some machines were crushed by falling ceiling tiles, but one even fell near Weiss, almost flattening him.

It was at that point Qrow said they could spit up in their search. To cover more ground. At first, Weiss and Nier wondered if that was a wise move. But, Kainé convinced them, saying that if they ran into the shade and machine, they’d reduce it to smoke and scrap metal easily. Emil also supported her and Qrow, but opted to stay with Nier and Weiss.

Having split up, Qrow was sure less bad things would happen to the people around them. But, it seemed as if his semblance just decided to focus more on him and Kainé. At one point, he fell down one of the bottomless pits, and had to fly out. A few feathers were singed as a result.

Later, in a dead end room, Kainé got body slammed by a machine because she was too preoccupied mangling a P-33. Thankfully, the machine that body slammed her didn’t have its electricity on, for some reason. Regardless, Kainé quickly exacted her furious revenge. After that, Qrow suggested they take a break out in the empty hallway.

“Dammit, what the hell?!” Kainé yelled frustratedly as she kicked the wall. “Why the fuck is today so shitty!” Again, she kicks the wall. “What! The! Fucking! Hell!” Qrow leans against the wall, and she takes a deep breath and joins him for a moment of rest. “Well, at least its not boring today.” Qrow lets out a quick chuckle.

“Sorry.” he apologizes. “Not everyday I hear something good about me.” She could now sense his unease. She looked at him, and saw that he seemed hurt. Well, not hurt, per say. More sad, the kind of sadness that comes from the bitter acceptance of what one perceives as terrible. It was familiar to her.

“So, what’s up with you, then?”

“Would you believe me if I told you I was a curse?” he asked her. She gave a quick laugh in response.

“You’re asking another walking curse that, you know?”

“Oh. For what its worth, I don’t think that shade makes you a curse.” he earnestly told her. After all, you can’t really blame a person if a literal monster inhabits their body against their will. Her sad and bitter laugh surprised him.

“He’s hardly a curse. More of an annoying bitch than anything.”

“That’s not hard to believe.” he scoffed all too knowingly. From what he could infer about the shade’s personality, he was the very sadistic, and very annoying type, He’d come across a few similar people in his work for Oz. In Qrow’s eyes, the only thing that separated such people from Grimm was their intelligence and other desires aside from sadism.

It did not escape Qrow that this meant that some other thing weighed her mind, some other thing that made her mark herself as cursed. He knew better than to pry. If she wasn’t going to say, she didn’t have to. He could respect that. He knew he’d be a hypocrite otherwise. Still, he felt that she at least deserved to know what plagued him, what was plaguing her because of him.

That, and she was still just a kid, an teen hardened by cruel life, but a kid to him nonetheless. If his time teaching had taught him anything about kids, it was that they opened up to adults who took the time to understand and empathize with them. Mr. Branwen, man who had lived through a hell of a youth worse than most, found that he was rather good at getting the kids to open up about their feelings and concerns. It was one of the few things he could say he was proud of about himself.

“I told Emil already, but I guess you should know too. I… ”

“Uhgg. I’m gonna stop you there. These kinds of things are always sob stories.” she told him, rolling her eyes in usual teenage manner. “I fuckin hate sob stories.” she said under her breath. “It doesn’t matter what’s wrong with us. At the end of the day, we’re abominations either way, and we’ve still gotta live on regardless.”

“You’re pretty smart, you know?” Qrow chuckled. He’s sure she had a shitty life too. In an ideal life, kids don’t get that kind of thinking, so young at least. “You still wanna beat that book with me, yeah?” he asked, getting off the wall to stretch.

For a moment, Kainé hesitated. There was just something about him she felt that she could trust. She then noticed the concern, almost hurt yet resigned look on his face because she was taking so long to answer.

“Yeah, definitely.” she quickly confirmed. “But first, can you keep a secret?” she asked.

“Of course. What is it?”

She motioned for him to come closer. Even though it was just them two in the empty hallway, she still felt the need to whisper it. He lowered his head down, and let her whisper her secret to him. He was surprised at first. It was not what he was expecting in the slightest, but it was something he could very personally understand. In return, he shared a “secret” with her too.

He assured her, they were not monsters because of the body they were born with. She was a strong young woman. He told her that he felt much the same once, a long time ago, but assured her she too would overcome it.

Qrow knew he was not an epitome of self-love by any means. Far from it. But, his body was not a source of his self-hate. With an uncontrollable and unfortunate semblance, he was going to love that aspect of himself that he decided on, the part of himself that he could control. That part of himself he did not, would not, hate was a source of solace and comfort.

Qrow knew that Kainé wasn’t just going to love herself overnight, but he had given her some hope. That, she was thankful for. Just knowing that someone like Qrow was kinda like her, was comforting.

Don’t lose your hate so quickly now, sunshine. A weak, sad, pathetic voice told her.

While they all lost to Hazel and Gretel at the Junk Heap, they did manage to find the Law of Robotics key piece among some rubble.

But, Emil did later declare Qrow and Kainé the victors of the bet. Nier was ambivalent, but Weiss was absolutely livid, nearly unable to accept defeat. Qrow and Kainé had a lot of fun rubbing it in.

By the time they returned to the village to rest, he had come to accept his loss. Though, he stated that if their bet concerned magic, rather than weaponry, Qrow wouldn't stand a chance. He teased the book, saying he shouldn't be so sure of that.

Although reluctantly, the guards opened the gate on their command. Devola was playing the Song of the Ancients at the fountain this time around, eyes closed and focused on the song. So, it wasn't much of an issue to get past her unnoticed.

Once inside the home, Yonah squeaked with joy that they all returned so soon, and ran to hug her brother.

"It's nice to see you again too Yonah, but take it easy, ok? I don't want you to overexert yourself so much." Nier worried as he hugged her back.

"Ohh, you worry too much!" She scolded.

"He's just concerned, is all. Besides, you've got a good big brother. It's only natural for him to worry." Qrow explained.

"Well…" she sighed, "I guess you're right. I do have a pretty good big brother. I probably shouldn't complain too much. I promise to take it easy today then."

"Thank you Yonah. I heard that Popola managed to find some cards and taught you how to play with them. Maybe you could teach us, and we all could play?" He suggested. A smile beamed from her happy face at the idea.

"Okay! I'll go and find the cards." she announced as she went upstairs.

"I'm gonna go to the store real quick then!" He shouted.

"Alright! Don't take too long!" she shouted back.

"We'll help her look then." Kainé said.

"Sure. Want anything in particular?" He asked.

"No, I'm alright." Emil answered.

"A potato. … Two potatoes." Kainé said after a moment.

"Alright… Two potatoes." Nier said. He was unsure why she would want such a plain food.

"I'll go with you." Qrow offered. "I'm sure you need a break from the book."

"It is a pleasure and honor to be in my presence you know? Honestly, do you think the Grimoire Weiss is as common as a crass paperback?"

"Sure." Nier agreed as the two were walking out the door.

"Have fun, Weissy." Qrow goaded.

As the door closed, Weiss sighed. But, if he were being honest, he wouldn't mind just resting on a nice bookshelf for a moment. Nier was with Qrow, and the other kids were just upstairs where they could cause no trouble. He deserved a little rest, and there likely wouldn't be a better time for quite a while.

So, he found a spot on the nearly empty, but comfortable shelf in the corner near the staircase, and felt himself slowly drift into a calm and relaxed state.

"Thanks back there. For talking to Yonah and convincing her for me." Nier said graciously as they entered the shopping district. Truly, he was thankful.

"Eh." he shrugged. "Think nothin of it. Besides, you are a good brother. Trust me, I know what a bad sibling is, and you definitely aren't."

"It doesn't feel like that sometimes…"

"Yeah. It's easy to feel like you're never doing enough. I can promise you though, you're doing all you can, and it is a lot." Qrow assured him.

"Thanks. Again. That means a lot." Talking to Qrow, hearing him reassure him, it felt good, like it was something he needed, but didn't know he needed.

"You're welcome kid. Now come one, we've got some memories to make." He said, and proceeded to trip in front of the women at the fountain. He could hear them giggle. So much for trying to seem cool and stuff.

"Well, here are your potatoes." Nier said as he tossed them to her.

"Nice! You don't know how much I've been fucking craving these." She said, and took a bite out of one potato like it was an apple.

Qrow was not a man easily caught off guard. But that, that was shocking, and frankly, revolting.

"What?" she said to a staring Qrow as she took another bite.

"Why??? That's not how you eat them…"

"How the fuck are you supposed to eat 'em then?"

"Cook them?"

"And lose the crunch?"

"Ok my gods… give me those, I'll make fries."

"What the hell are fries?"

That broke Qrow's heart. After all that happened to him, it was not an easy thing to break. He could almost cry. He had to sit for a moment to process this. All the while, Kainé loudly munched on her potato.

"Okay." Qrow said once he recovered. "Just find me the other potato. I promise you will love fries. If you don't I will literally give you Harbinger."

He gave her a confused look. Right.

"My weapon." He clarified. Satisfied with the offer, she tossed him the other potato.

"You really named your weapon? You sleep curled up next to it or something?"

"That reminds me," interjected a refreshed Weiss, "the other blade you are currently in possession of is the Phoenix Sword."

"That's pretty believable." He said as he cut up the large potato. He was glad they bought cooking oil earlier.

"Would you like to hear the story I've collected on it?"

"Sure. Why not."

"Ugh." Kainé groaned. "I'm going upstairs so I'm not bored to fucking death." With that, she joined the others in a game of cards.

So far, Yonah had beaten both Emil and Kainé. Qrow imagines Nier was next to lose, and that Yonah was probably making up rules as they went. He'd figure he'd indulge her and lose later.

"Anyways, let me begin." Weiss said, and told the story.

This is an old story. A beautiful bird with brightly shining feathers lived silently and carefully in the depths of a forest.

One day, a child abandoned as a burden wandered into the depths of the forest. The bird took pity on the starved and sunken child, and pecked off one of its feathers to give to the child. The child brought it back and pleased his relatives, and he was able to live with his family again.

Hearing the story, people barged into the forest one after another, and told the beautiful bird of how poor, how unfortunate and how unrewarded they were. The beautiful bird took pity on them, and gave them one shining feather after another, and when it gave its last feather, the bird’s beautiful body was reduced to a sorry state. However, the ugly bird did not have any regrets.

The ugly bird that lost its feathers was freezing in the cold, and the child from before appeared in front of it. He told it that he was searching for a brightly shining and beautiful bird to repay his debts. The ugly bird was overjoyed, and told the child of its desire. "That was me. Please, would you not keep me warm in your chest?" But the child merely took one glance at the ugly bird and called it a liar, killing it with a huge sword and eating the burnt bird. Afterwards, he continued to search for the beautiful bird.

"... Well, that was something." Qrow commented.

"What were you expecting?" Weiss said accusingly.

"I don't know." Qrow responded defensively. "Ow!" He hissed as some oil splattered onto his hand. "Maybe how it was created, or something about its original owner?"

"Hmph, I imagine your weapon's story isn't to your tastes then."

"It doesn't have a story!" Qrow affirmed.

"Pah! All noteworthy weapons have a story, and yours is no exception!"

"Wait, wait. You're saying that Harbinger, my Harbinger, has a story?"

"Naturally. Do weapons in your world not have stories? Most odd." Weiss said before letting Qrow answer. "I suppose it is my duty to tell you your weapon's story then. So, I implore you to listen and listen well."

In a time not known, there lived an archer with jet black hair who killed, and killed, and killed the allies of the wretched light. The Goddess of Light ordered his death, as he was far too much of a threat for a mere mortal. She sent her greatest warrior to slay him. Equipped with divine magic and a holy armament, he obeyed his Goddess and killed the Hero of Innocent Darkness with his own fiery arrows.

Being an honorable and just soul, he ascended to an afterlife within the light. There, the cruel goddess controlled him as another one of her puppets. In her name, he ended the lives of many valiant souls who sought a world of freedom. Wherever he went, the goddess’s will followed in the form of a fiery arrow. To his dismay, he soon even surpassed the one who killed him, and became her new greatest warrior.

So, when a new living, breathing soul threatened her as he once did, it was this warrior’s duty to dispatch the threat. The threat was a young woman, much younger than he was when he took up arms against the goddess. He announced his arrival with the shining shot of a holy arrow into the air.

The woman… she seemed familiar to him. But, it was no time for distant memories. He had to carry out the will of the Goddess of Light, even if he did not want to. While a magic user, she was unique in how she wielded it. Rather than fight at a range, she fought up close. She lasted much longer than he had in his last fight, but even she too was felled. However, he too succumbed to her efforts. He lay there, burning by fiery arrows once more. In his final moments, he wondered, and feared, what awaited him in the death after death.

“Well, there’s your story. More satisfactory than the Phoenix Sword, hmm?”

“No.” Qrow deadpanned. “In fact, I’m gonna forget it. Well, I’ll forget it soon.” With that, he popped open the flask and downed it. He was hoping to ration it, but in all honesty, he’d rather not have to live with the fact that even his weapon was a sad mess. He was sure the alcoholic “soup” wasn’t going to be strong enough to actually help him forget, but, it was worth a shot.

“Underappreciated as usual.” Weiss sighed to himself.

“You’ll get used to it soon enough.” Qrow joked. “Come one, we’ve got kids to feed.”

Qrow carefully ascended the stairs, as to be sure he wouldn’t drop them. A cautious Kainé scrutinized a fry before taking a bite out of one. Her face lit up and she quickly shoved it into her mouth. The others quickly joined in on the indulgence, enjoying the simple treat as much as their voracious friend.

Nier threw money at him to get some more potatoes, and Yonah begged him to teach her how to make them. He was happy to oblige. It made him happy to see them all so energetic and pleased. He also made the book go with him to the shopping district so they could discuss some important matters.

All in all, Qrow was satisfied in how things were turning out. Sure. things could be better, but they definitely could have been a lot worse. So, this is a win in his book. It seemed odd that he felt so happy in this world, but he knew that he would have to leave this world soon. If anything, he preferred that. That way, he had less of a chance to ruin his time here, or ruin anything else. But, for now, he would enjoy this mission.

Qrow woke up feeling groggy, and was hit with a terrible headache. His first thought was that he had gotten stupid drunk before returning to Oz and was paying the price. But, as his senses came back to him, he noticed that he wasn’t at Beacon. He wasn’t sure where he was. He quickly got up and searched for his weapon. It was at the side of the bed he was on, and he quickly shifted it into its scythe form.

Cautiously, he went for the door. He found it odd that his capturers let him hold onto his weapon, but he wasn’t going to complain. Just as he was about to touch the handle to make sure it wasn’t rigged or anything, the door shot open.

“Hello there.” A woman greeted as she blocked the scythe with a suitcase. “Just on time. I was hoping to have a few words with you, if you don’t mind?”

Qrow really wasn’t going to take his chances entertaining this woman, so he figured that the best course of action was flying past her as a bird, which he did. Though, he didn’t get far. He flew straight into another suitcase and fell limp to the ground.

“Thank you Accord.”

“You’re welcome Accord.” cordially replied Accord. She walked over to pick up the knocked out bird, and took measurements and notes as she walked to her destination.

When Qrow awoke, a different woman was in front of him. She was eating some fries, sitting on her comfortable looking bed. She had off white hair, and silver eyes. Qrow shifted back into human form.

“Yonah?”

“Oh Qrow! It is you!” she shouted as she jumped up and pulled him in for a hug. “I almost didn’t believe Accord when she said you’d be here. I’m so glad you’re alright. I’m glad you remembered me too.”

“I’m glad you’re alright too. Couldn’t forget someone like you if I tried. But, uh, mind filling me in on all this?” he requested as she released him from the embrace.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah! I guess Accord didn’t have time to huh? Come and walk with me, and I’ll give you the basics.” she said as she picked up her sword, one with a phoenix motif, and then her fries.

“Still hooked onto those fries, huh?” he asked. He was glad to see a familiar face. It put him at ease. That, and he did not feel or sense any danger in this place. It felt safe. That was a good sign.

“Mmhm.” she said with a mouth full of fries before swallowing them. “I always remembered how to cook them how you taught me. In fact, because of you, this place has fries now.”

Qrow lightly laughed. It was an odd honor to have, but an honor nonetheless.

“So, what exactly is this place?” he asked, still smiling.

“This, is the base of the organization known as The Dragon Guard. Though, dragons are practically extinct in most timelines now. But, we do have Mikey. He’s funny. But anyways, our goal is to defeat god. His goal is to destroy humanity and our creation.”

“And naturally, you guys aren’t gonna let that slide, right?” Qrow stated. Yonah eagerly nodded.

“Yup! I was recruited a couple years ago. Though technically, its been millenia since then.” she said as if it were no big deal. Qrow looked at her, eyes wide with surprise. “It’s actually not that complicated if you want me to explain it.”

“I’m good. My head hurts enough as is.” he complained as he rubbed it.

“Yeah… Accord said that might happen.” Qrow looked at her curiously, almost concerned.

“Did you call for me?” they heard a voice say from behind. He jumped up with a yelp in shock.

“On time, as always. How are you Accord? Come across anything that needs some of my special attention?” Yonah casually asked.

“I’m good, as always.” Accord smiled. “Though, there have been reports of another dangerous interloper. This one wields elemental magic and a bunch of swords. But, I doubt you’ll need to take care of her. She’s in one of the timelines where the Seeds of Destruction activate the goddess.” Qrow wondered what the hell any of that meant.

“Another moment of rest for me then, I guess.” she sighed. “Hey, do we have time to spar real quick?” she asked Accord, who thought for a quick moment.

“Sure. I’ll be sure to set up an arena for you.”

“Thank you Accord. Alright, follow me!” she said as she excitedly led Qrow to what he assumed would be the training area.

They passed many different places on their way. There was a large mess hall, a weapons room Qrow would have to see if he could look at later, a magical test center, and he even saw Mikey. Apparently, the white dragon loved his fries, which he confirmed Yonah made perfectly just as he did. When they finally reached the training room, he was out of breath.

“Here,” she said as she pulled out a seat, “rest for a moment. Do you think you could watch my swordsmanship and critique it? Kainé said you were an amazing teacher.” Her face betrayed her cheerful voice, as a hint of sadness could be seen.

“That, I am. So show me what you’ve got.”

After watching her go toe to toe with an android in black, he could say he was very impressed. Her attacks were quick and precise. Additionally, some damage she took seemed to be shrugged off by her own attacks, as indicated by the health bars on display. As the battle ended with Yonah as the victor, he proudly made her way over to Qrow.

“So, what do you think?” she huffed excitedly.

“I’d say you’re even better than me.” he answered honestly. Time had been kind to her. He hoped it would stay that way. She deserved it.

“Really, you think so?” she asked. Qrow nodded his head to reaffirm. She squealed in joy. “I’m so glad you think so! It means so much to me!” she yanked him in for another hug. It was rough, but he didn’t mind too much.

Just then, they heard the door open, Accord walking in.

“Oh, you’re here early, er, on time, actually. I guess it just feels early.” Yonah said. Sadly.

“Your time’s almost up. The magic that brought you here is strong. We were lucky enough to even be able to intercept it.” Accord neutrally explained. “You know, you’re a singularity. Of sorts.”

“You’re someone who causes timelines to branch and split off. You even made a timeline that survived.” Yonah said happily.

“Yeah, an incredible feat. If I were you though, I wouldn’t feel bad about the ones that didn’t survive. Those ones were gonna fail regardless. But man, you did give me a lot of work, not that I mind though. It provided some nice data. That brings me to this: I’ve temporarily sealed off a majority of your memories from during your time away from your world. You have a choice. You can choose to remember or not. It will be a lot to take in, and you’ll have a nasty headache for a bit. So. what’s your choice, avian interloper?”

“I…” he wasn’t so sure. He had a bad feeling about this. But, something compelled him to choose to remember. It felt like he had a duty to remember. It felt somebody was convincing him it was the right choice. “I want to remember.”

“As you will.” Accord answered, pulling out her large phone. “Alright. Initiate code. MEM-3313.”

She was right when she said the headache would be nasty. But, the memories were worse. So many things made sense, and it was all saddening and terrifying. But, mixed in there, were some good memories, ones people wouldn’t trade for the world. There was little Yonah, so much like Ruby to him. Her, Nier, Kainé, Emil, Halua, Weiss, and Rubrum, were a part of many wonderful memories, memories of a world where he felt normal, even if just for a moment. And there they were, in a few terrible memories too, reminding him of his fears and hatred.

“We have another choice for you. Do you wish to keep your memories?” Accorded asked. “Regardless, I already have the important ones recorded, so don’t let us influence your choice.”

Those memories worth more than the world, weren’t worth more than all the suffering and sadness and betrayal he had witnessed so many times. He could barely handle it.

“Take them… take them all…”

“Are you sure?” Yonah asked this time.

“Kid… I’m sorry. I’m not that strong of a person.”

“You are a strong person, Mister Qrow, just not that kind of strong, and that’s alright.” she sat down to take a seat next to him. “The world is a pretty terrible place. And we can all only take so much. I don’t blame you, okay? Accord, transfer them to me.” Qrow looked at her in shock.

“You’re a good man Qrow. Don’t forget that. I know that someday, you’ll be stronger for the people who need you. I believe in you. You have someone who believes in you. Don’t forget that, okay? You have someone who believes in you.”

Qrow wasn’t sure what to say as she tearfully pulled him in for one last hug. He just noticed that he was crying too. He began to feel sleepy.

“Thank you for so many good memories, Qrow. You helped make those days with my brother and friends possible. …Thank you, and goodbye…”

“Goodbye. . .”

You have someone who believes in you.

#qrow branwen #nier #kaine #grimoire weiss #rwby #18.9k words #okay back to this format #cause its kinda cringe #but lots of fun #and saddness #well its just full of drakenier convolutedness #not full of it persay #but definitely has those elements #also ill someday write a sinoalice/rwby fic so i can have Weiss Grimoire Weiss and snow white interact #The remnant branches #Ash Qrow #fun fact the title is a susumu hirwasaawa refrence. His song Ash Crow is also what inspired Harbinger's story #with the fiery arrow and fleeing and being afraid and all that.

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