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kyoupann · 4 years

Note

Please do more of the writing head canons. It’s really interesting to see other people’s ideas on the topic, so if you can be bothered, I would highly appreciate more, thanks bye <3

Y’all don’t know how happy I am to talk about these headcanons, they are my babies and I love them so much :’) thanks for asking g <3

Handwriting Headcanons

Same dynamic as before, try to guess whose handwriting it is before reading and tell me how many you got right! <3

You can find the first post here (no need to check it tho)

Quick disclaimer: halfway through making my initial notes, I remembered I had one (1) single lesson of graphology in my applied linguistics class, but that was a year ago and some information might be off. I just thought it was neat to include.

Another quick disclaimer: I don’t know much about Hylian, but I like to think it has a similar stroke system to Japanese, so the pressure and accuracy of your strokes play a major role in your handwriting (among other things, ofc.) so there are some parts where I focus more on that

(First Row, from left to right)

Sky

Our first boy is mother hen! Believe it or not, he has the prettiest handwriting out of all of them! Sky: probably has nice, even elegant handwriting because Sun forced him to practice when they were little. In the end, that paid off because his handwriting is the prettiest one. There’s no pressure, but he is confident in what he writes that his lines aren’t thin. Mistakes? what is that? this boy has impeccable grammar and spelling. No mechanic errors to be found in his letters! I’d like to think that many of Hyrule’s classic/staple poems were originally written by the firt king aka sky child. Like, imagine, after a retiring from being a Person of Power (as the first ruler), Sky finds comfort in the arts: revisits his old woodcarvings and starts writing poetry about the world he still doesn’t fully understand. wowie. tldr: sky writes poetry and you can pry it from my cold dead hands.

This is what one of his letters would look like:

Next one is the one and only, our Hero of Time

2. Time

I’ll die on the “Time didn’t know how to read and write” hill. His handwriting is simple, not pretty but not messy. It has some grammar and spelling mistakes here and there. Can become unreadable if writing in a hurry, he sorts of forgets spaces between words are a thing/letters have different sizes and lowercase letters end up the same size as capital letters. I’m not saying he sometimes forgets to write articles: he just doesn’t want to. Honestly, he just has this dad-neat handwriting. He is a gentle dad and writes like a dad, if he puts too much pressure onto the paper, his handwriting become too sharp/angle-ish and ends up looking ugly. And as much as he would like to not care about it, in the end he does (:

Malon taught him how to write and it was quite the experience. At first he didn’t want to because he was ‘too old’ to learn and it was torture at first, but now look at him devouring his cowboy novels.

A chunk of his handwriting:

*sniff* such a dad quote.

3. my mansss, your 4x1 deal at Target: Four

Look, my boy is patient! He could do some nice and fancy lettering if he wanted to. He was taught that handwriting and spelling said a whole lot about him as a person, you know, like a first impression kinda thing; so he always proof reads more than twice before sending a letter. Super rare grammar mistakes.

The faster he writes, the more slant his writing becomes. Under stress/ when not sure how to write things down, run-on sentences are everywhere and his handwriting is inconsistent in general (I don’t headcanon each part of him having completely different handwriting because handwriting becomes muscle memory over time. It’s just slightly different variations of the same, like idk Vio’s handwriting is neater than Green’s and Red writes hearts instead of any dot/circle and no, I do not take constructive criticism on that, jk i do.) Adding on to each of the colours’ handwriting, I’d think Red and Green write with words slanted to the right( inclined), Vio is a mix of the opposite, so reclined and straight, and my mans blue a true neutral writes straight (kinda like Time’s).

The logic behind this is that inclined writing supposedly means honesty and need for giving (and getting) affection; reclined means, as you can probably imagine, defensiveness and repression of true feelings, but also shows great concentration; straight handwriting means self-control, observation and reflection as well as distrust and indifference. But as complete being (tm), Four just writes as in the image example which is not too straight and not too inclined, and I believe that’s a good middle for him

HOWEVER, if I’m feeling in the mood for crack, I totally accept this boy to have the ugliest, chicken scratches-looking handwriting! :’D It’s just funny to think that someone like him, who has to be precise and careful in his work, can't write neatly to save his life.

One of his letters would look like this:

Also I just LOVE how his hero titles look in this font ksksks

and that’s

(Middle row, from left to right)

4.- Mister Bunny Boy - Legend

His uncle taught him how to write. I’d call his handwriting pretty and neat at a first glance, but he presses too hard on the paper, most of the time staining the back or the following page. Sometimes will retrace some words if he doesn’t like how it looks (which only makes it messier). According to my notes, a thick or strong handwriting represents determination/commitment.

As I also headcanon him to know many languages, mechanical errors are more present than grammar ones; that is, weird capitalisation of words. Punctuation is somewhere in between; uses too many commas when he should just cut the sentence. he mixes punctuation from two languages or more in writing when too distracted (or too focused, because, well, pressure.); when he writes for himself, he has almost no problem following said language’s punctuation rules. Also, this is just polyglot culture, and I’m projecting a bit, but when he forgets a word in the language he’s writing, he just replaces it with its equivalent in another language because we don’t care about fluency, but rather functionality. in this household (more on that in my language hc, ksksks).

An example of his writing:

so powerful

4.- Mr. Wolfman, howl me a song - Twilight

I don’t have much for him because 1) I don’t think he writes a lot and 2) he is a hands-on/visual learner, I’ll die by that. He only learnt how to write because Ulli insisted it was important and he was not about to disrespect his momma; he IS That Guy, but doesn’t really write enough to have neat handwriting.

Many people seem to overlook the fact that his house is filled with books and write him as completely illiterate (which if not explored properly, ends up feeling a bit disrespectful and full of prejudice, but go off I guess; and that’s on my core Headcanons for Twi); however, he sticks to simple sentences. Knowing how to read and understanding a text is different from knowing how to write them. Like, when we would see a semicolon and understand its position in the text, but didn’t understand the nature of it. Is this clear? idk i’m sorry. So yeah, boy reads a lot, writes very little.

As for his Actual Handwriting, as opposed to Legend, his handwriting is thiccc but not because he presses into the paper; he is just that messy, he has no sense of ink-flow-control, he does what he can with what he has. To the untrained eye, his handwriting illegible letters like v, n, u are very similar; when he makes notes for himself he does it in the form of doodles or small ‘icons’. But! He reads a lot, so he rarely makes spelling mistakes (: he is your go-to guy when you don’t know how to write a word.

An example of his writing:

He keeps a journal, sue me.

3. My first born- Warrior

Okay, first off... I accept this is completely biased. I saw the idea and said “That’s True”. If you haven’t, please read Effective Communication; or The Lack of Thereof by htruona, a fic where the boys reflect on the language barriers between them. It’s incredibly funny and probably what made me start making these silly notes. So, if you’ve read that fic, you know where I’m going.

My man, Warrior, can’t fucking write. I mean, he physically can, but it’s very bad. Here’s the reason for it, tho, and it’s not his fault: Technically, he knew how to write alright but he joined the military and whatever note he had to write had to be concise or in the worst case coded. He mixes capital and lowercase letters. If we consider that he joined the military at around 15, his handwriting and grammar had yet to continue developing. Just think about how after summer break, your handwriting was always slightly worse than before because you didn’t write for an entire month. Now think what 2 years can do to that. Hmm, not cool, dude. He makes quick notes, when writing he’s all gotta go fast. he is the lighting mcqueen of writing; good for emergency messages, not ideal for love letters. His punctuation also suffered a lot, he only know full stops and commas and hardly uses them. A sentence for him is either one word or fifty without a single comma, no inbetween.

His hero title and an example of his writing.

(Bottom row, or what I like to call “fuck cursive” row)

7.- Magic man - Hyrule

I’m basic and I do agree with the popular headcanon of he not knowing how to write because well, y’all know his Hyrule. He only knows how to write his name because that’s important, same with numbers. I don’t see why would he write/read except checking the roadsigns. (he can even use this as an excuse for getting lost frequently; he thought it said something different.) But I do think that because his habitual reading consists of roadsigns, his ‘punctuation’ is weird af and places full stops/points/periods at the same level of his words and his commas/question/exclamation marks below them. Yk, creative license. Sadly, I don’t have much about my magic hands man so here’s what his writing would look like if he actually wrote a paragraph:

Man, I love Hyrule.

8.- Man, I don’t understand this boy - Wild

Cursive? ain’t nobody have the time for that. He woke up and had to save the world in his underwear while not knowing how to read nor write. He learnt during his journey and was taught by multiple people from different regions, that explains his inconsistent spelling of things and names for them. So Wild knows language variations for many items and uses them interchangeably (even if they aren’t exactly the same). Another headcanon related to writing/language skills that I’ve been thinking about is that if the shrine was able to cause amnesia, I’m sure there were other areas in the brain affected which leads us to language disorders such as agraphia and aphasia. But that’s a story for another day ksksksk

An example of his writing (after relearning)

9.- The best of sons - Wind

I don’t have much for him and that makes me sad. Look, he’s a kid, doing kid things like stabbing dudes on the head. This boy was taught cursive by his grandma, but could never do it and no one needs it anyway. His handwriting is good enough for his pirate life, Tetra is the one to handle Official stuff, he just gotta sign. Spelling and grammar mistakes abound. He is still relatively young and can correct his handwriting if he desires. But same as Wild, with how many times he’s been thrown out and hit his head, I’m starting to consider some language disorder for him as well.

An example of his writing:

aaand that’s it.

Thanks, y’all for showing interest in this silly thing uwu it was fun to finally talk about this. If you ever want to discuss ideas/headcanons(especially if they are related to language and culture), I’m your person (: I’m always happy to hear new headcanons. Feel free to add anything to this post either in a reply or in a reblog, I’d love to hear from y’all <3<3

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juniperwindsong · 4 years

Text

In Love & War (3/3)

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has been so kind as to comment on this story and even kinder in their patience for how long it took to complete. I’ve never struggled so much to write anything, and I might still be staring at an unfinished draft if it weren’t for the help of the most incredible, @navirosera, who listened patiently to my ranting, raving, and complaining and provided the spark to help me finish. I really can’t thank you enough.

I have posted the remaining part of the chapter at the bottom so it’s in its proper place. If you’ve already read the first part of this, just keep scrolling till it looks new.

Part 3: Quatervois

You hold your left hand up against the glass of the window. The setting sun catches the diamond of your ring, creating lines of rainbow light. It gives the impression your whole hand is sparkling. You smile. It's only a modest sized diamond set against a pale gold band. But it's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

"Something out there I should be jealous of?"

Arms encircle your waist. A warm body presses against you from behind.

"'Out there'"?" you echo playfully. "Oh, I suppose there is a lovely ocean view. I hadn't noticed."

Felix rests his chin on your shoulder to see what's caught your attention.

"You know, I really ought to get you another one. Something better. With a diamond you can actually see."

You spin around in Felix's arms.

"Don't you dare. I love it. It's perfect."

Felix glances at your hand now resting against his chest. He frowns at the ring slightly.

"Hardly perfect. It's ridiculously small. It barely counts as an engagement ring."

You wrinkle your nose at him. "Then why did you pick it in the first place?"

A hot blush creeps up Felix's cheeks, a sight you find intensely amusing.

"There's a face I don't see often,” you laugh softly.

A change comes over Felix. His eyes widen, and he leans away from you, dropping his arms. He peers into your face intently as if he's seen something he doesn't like. You’re worried you must have offended him.

"I wasn't poking fun," you assure him soothingly. You close the distance he’s created between you, reaching up to take his still heated cheek in your palm. "I like it. Makes you look younger."

Felix's eyes soften. "Do I look old then?"

"Far too old for me." You shake your head in mock concern. "What my friends will say when they discover I've eloped with my prefect, I can't imagine." Your face suddenly clouds. "Why did we elope? Was there a reason? I mean, it was lovely little chapel, but it would have been nice to have my friends there. And Mrs Weasley will be so disappointed when she finds out.”

Felix swallows. “The war, remember?” He hides his face in the crook of your neck. “Everyone choosing sides. We didn't want them to be uncomfortable."

"Oh. Right."

On some level you're aware this doesn't make sense. But the vibrations against your throat send lightning through your body. The answer no longer seems important. You run your hands through Felix's hair as he places hot, slow kisses up your neck, under your chin. When he reaches your lips he murmurs against them: "Let me buy you a new ring. Please."

You shake your head. Your nose nuzzles his with each small movement. "No. This is the one I want."

You’re at a loss for how this sweet statement could cause your new husband to look so unhappy.

"Not again! That's the second time this week!"

The sudden exclamation startles you from your reverie. You lift your head from its resting place against your hand. You’re in the Burrow's kitchen with an irate Mrs Weasley, not a villa in Nice with Felix. The sun setting outside the window had brought the memory back.

Mrs Weasley wads the offensive letter up and throws it into the fire.

"I mean really, and at the last minute, too. So inconsiderate. I suppose that sort of thing is acceptable in France, but you'd think manners would be the same everywhere, wouldn't you? Pass me that cutting board, dear."

You rise from your chair and reach up to pull the cutting board from a high shelf. You could easily retrieve it with magic, but you need the distraction. It's precisely the reason you've moved to the Burrow. Mrs Weasley's strict regimen of conversation and domestic work keeps your mind from wandering. Most of the time.

You offer Mrs Weasley the cutting board, then lean against the counter. You force yourself to pay attention to her diatribe.

“I'm sure it's a phase, but I do hope it will pass soon. Once he grows out of that hair and that earring," Mrs Weasley shudders. "And that's really the most telling, isn't it? Any woman who likes that sort of thing can’t possibly be any good. You don't approve of it, surely?"

You look up from where your gaze has fallen to your hand and shake your head vigorously.

Her opinions safely confirmed, Mrs Weasley returns to the cutting board. She directs her wand to a veritable army of knives that begin dicing vegetables with gusto. "Like I say, very telling. Bill never used to be like this. He would never have dreamed of sending an owl last minute saying he wouldn't be at dinner. I mean really! What if we'd had something important to discuss? What if-"

You stare at the ring on your finger. It's the same one from your memory: a single, small diamond, a band of pale gold. Humble, but an auror's salary isn’t high. And this is definitely the ring Talbott had given you.

You relish the ability to call this memory to mind. You, dusting the curtains in your cheery flat when Talbott suddenly appears behind you. He presses a small blue box wordlessly into your hands. Your heart stops when you open it.

Talbott isn't one for material gifts. You never ask them of him. You had intended, once you were married, to find a simple wedding band to indicate your new status. For Talbott to think of it himself means more than you can say in words. Instead, you spend a long, fervid night showing him.

You close your eyes, savouring the echoes of bliss reverberating through your body. Until a question wheedles its way in like a leech.

Why would Felix have pretended the ring was his? Even for a second? It didn't fit Felix's extravagant style at all. He hadn't been happy with it, that much is clear from your newly remembered honeymoon scene. So why didn't he remove it after obliviating you? Replace it with another?

The inconsistency bothers you. Against your better judgment, you tentatively prod your brain for an explanation. But while your memories from before the fateful spell all seem to be intact, the days immediately after remain fuzzy.

"...talking about visiting her family, and it's much too soon for that. Imagine going all the way to France for a girl he's really only known a short time. I didn't meet Arthur's family until..."

You shake your head firmly, clearing it of unwanted thoughts. You'll never understand what Felix did. You're not supposed to be thinking about him, anyway. You straighten, and interrupt Mrs Weasley mid-sentence.

"Can I do something to help, Mrs Weasley?"

"Oh," Mrs Weasley stops abruptly. "Well, I really only have the potatoes left to mash, and that’s just -"

"I'll do it.”

You walk to the sink before Mrs Weasley can argue. A pot of peeled and boiled potatoes waits expectantly. You tap the masher with your wand and set it to work with vigour. You can feel Mrs Weasley's eyes on you, but you keeps yours fixed to the sink.

After a moment, Mrs Weasley returns to her knives, now scraping the diced vegetables into a bowl. "You know, I was thinking," she says in an airy, would-be-casual voice that instantly puts you on your guard. "I'd planned for four, and it would be a shame to let all this extra food go to waste. Why not invite your young man to dinner?"

The masher spins wildly in the pot, spilling potatoes over the side before you can correct it. Mrs Weasley continues as though she hasn’t noticed.

"It's been some time since you last saw him. And goodness knows, he looks like he could use a solid meal. What he must be eating without anyone to take care of him..."

You remember the assorted debris of take-away strewn about your old flat's kitchen table. A short stab of pain punctures your lungs. Imagining Talbott alone in the ruins of the home you once shared robs you of air.

"Y/N, the masher!"

"What?"

You look up to find the masher dancing across the counter, trailing potato in its wake. You break the enchantment and return it to the pot, then reach for a dish towel. You try to mop up the soggy potato droppings, but your vision is blurred by tears.

The dish towel is plucked gently from your fingers. You look up through wet eyes to find Mrs Weasley peering at you in concern.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to press. I understand if you need more time to-"

"It's not that, Mrs Weasley," you say, through sniffs. "I just...I... I miss him. I miss everything."

"You know, dear," Mrs Weasley says delicately, "Arthur and I have had our fair share of rows. Why, I remember one in our seventh year, nearly ended us. I couldn't eat a bite for weeks. But, there's never a problem two people can't solve if they're just willing to talk through it."

You sigh heavily, wiping your hand across your eyes. You let yourself sink into a kitchen chair.

"Talbott doesn't talk, Mrs Weasley. I'm the one who always solves these sorts of problems. I've never minded, but this time...this time I just don't know how."

Mrs Weasley flicks her wand at the masher. It resumes its duties at a more stately pace, and she draws the chair next to yours.

"Talbott is a good man, dear. A bit strange, and - well, I do admit, I'd rather hoped you and Charlie would...well...that doesn't matter now - what I mean to say is Talbott loves you. I'm sure he doesn't expect everything to be just the way it was all at once. But you have to start somewhere or it'll never come right."

You worry your lip between your teeth. You don’t know what Talbott thinks of you right now, and you’re afraid to find out. But Mrs Weasley's arguments chip away at your fear. You do want to see him again. And Talbott is unlikely to come find you himself.

"I suppose I might...send him an owl."

Mrs Weasley's smile is so bright it hurts to look at it.

"Really? Oh, that's wonderful! I'm so thrilled. Here, let me do it. You go get dressed!"

"What?"

"Well, you can't let him see you in that!"

You look down at your clothes: an old house dress of Mrs Weasley's and a jumper of Charlie's, both extremely baggy.

"Mrs Weasley, Talbott's seen me in just about everything."

"Yes, well, a little bit of effort never hurt. In fact, why don't I pop down to Diagon Alley before the shops close and pick up some of those delightful little cakes he liked so much last Christmas. I'll send the owl on the way. Now go!"

It's useless to argue with Mrs Weasley when she's in this state. You climb the stairs, listening to her chatter to herself as she pulls on a travelling shawl. For the first time in days, you manage a weak smile.

You spend a few minutes prodding your wand across an old summer dress from Mrs Weasley's school days. You've never excelled at the sort of charms Andre used to transform clothes into something magical, but you do your best. The end result, if not exactly fashionable, doesn't look as though two of you might fit in it. You run a brush through the tangled knots in your hair, and, after a minute's debate, decide in favour of lipstick.

You feel distinctly foolish.

It makes no sense to be dressing yourself up to meet the man you've lived with since you left school. Even less so to be this self-conscious about it. But Mrs Weasley's excitement has apparently infected you. Your stomach is full of swarming butterflies. It reminds you of your very first date with Talbott.

You cross to the looking-glass and inspect yourself critically. While you may feel like a teenager again, your reflection shows quite a bit more wear. Your face is pinched and wan, like someone recovering from a long illness. You lean in closer, practicing a smile. Something moves in the corner of the glass.

You whirl around, fumbling for your wand. The room is empty. It must have a been a trick of the light. Instinct puts you on your guard, however, and you inspect the room again, more slowly. As your eyes pass the window, you catch a glimpse of something moving in the yard. You blink, and look again, unwilling to believe your eyes.

Felix is picking his way across the long grass, surveying the Burrow with a mixture of distaste and apprehension.

Your brain stalls. Thoughts peter out as soon as they begin. You don't know what to do, what to think, what to feel.

Felix glances up. You know he can see your silhouette in the window. It's in the way his rich brown eyes suddenly catch fire.

"Y/N, I know you're there," Felix calls softly. "I just want to talk to you. Please."

A battle begins inside you. Part of you wants to hurl a curse out the window at Felix. Part of you wants to hide under the bed. But neither of these are in charge of your feet. You're walking out of the room and down the stairs before your brain catches up to what you're doing. It stops you just before you reach the kitchen door. You can't really be considering this. Felix has proven exactly what he's capable of. Walking out there to him is like walking into a snake pit.

Only this time, you know. You're prepared. You're not the girl of a year ago, naively believing she could be just friends with a Rosier. Nor are you his thrall. Your head is as clear as it's ever been. And you have things you want to say. You clench your hand firmly around your wand, and step outside.

You keep your eyes on your feet as you walk. Just taking even steps requires considerable effort. You stop when you see Felix's shoes. It's several seconds before you're able to raise your gaze to his, and then it takes all your self-control to keep your jaw from dropping.

You've never seen Felix this worse for wear. His robes are so rumpled he might have slept in them. His hair is untidy, his nails unclean. There are circles under his eyes as dark as bruises.

Pity, and something else you refuse to name, well up inside your throat. The desire to put your arms around him, to stroke his cheek or straighten his hair, anything to fix his face into something less pained, is overwhelming. You hate yourself for it. You quickly recite every terrible thing Felix has done in your head. But you've never been able to stay angry with Felix when he looks at you like that.

"Y/N." Felix says your name like a prayer. You will your heart not to break. You keep your voice as expressionless as possible.

"What do you want?"

"I - I just want to talk," Felix repeats. "To ex-explain." His impassive mask slips as he stutters. For some reason, this display of nerves inspires you with confidence.

"I already heard your explanations. What else could you possibly have to say?"

Felix rubs his palms against his trousers.

'That wasn't - I mean - I didn't get to...to say everything I needed to. It was all so..." You don't think you've ever seen Felix so lost for words. You grip your wand tighter to stop your hand reaching for him. "I didn't get to explain myself clearly. Explain what happened. Why I...I did what I did."

At these words, your desire erupts into rage. It's almost a relief to finally feel it. You let it boil your blood, vibrate in your limbs. You clench your fist around your wand so tight your knuckles turn white. As if the immensity of Felix's crimes could be summed up in a few simple words.

"You mean, why you obliviated me? Why you erased Talbott from my memories and ruined both our lives?" The bitterness that's festered inside you for weeks spews forth like lava. "You lied to me, Felix! You let me feel like I was going mad! You forced me to marry you, and then kept me locked in your house like a-"

"But I didn't!" Felix's cry is anguished. It only fuels your fury.

"How...dare you! How can you really think I'm that stupid? That I would fall for that? I remember everything Felix! I heard you admit it, and I know I'm not insane. Denying what you've done won't change anything, it just makes you look pathetic.”

Felix flinches as if your word were a curse.

"I'm not denying what I did. I did...obliviate you. And I did lie. But...I didn't force you to marry me."

"Just because you didn't hold a wand to my head doesn't mean I wasn't forced. You can't get out of this on semantics."

"I'm not trying to get out of anything," Felix says quickly. He looks up, staring at a point just near your ear. "Look, I made you forget him...Talbott. I thought...without him to worry about or pressuring you to stay...I could convince you to run. Go visit your relatives in America. But I-I don't know...maybe the spell went wrong. I've never used a memory charm before. But you seemed to forget everything. You weren't sure who you were, or where you were. I was terrified."

Felix takes a step closer. You know you should stop him, but you're hooked to his words. Your anger flounders as you struggle to find this memory, to prove Felix is lying yet again. But all you remember is Felix's wand pointed at you...then nothing.

"I didn't know what to do," Felix continues. "I couldn't just leave you there, or - or send you to another country while you didn't even know your own name. So I...I took you home. With me. I thought...maybe I could figure out a way to undo it. Or something. I don't know, I never had to find out. When you woke the next morning, you were better. Or at least, you knew who you were and who I was. But...I suppose the spell had worked because you didn't remember...Talbott." Felix's fingers twist at his sides. "But then you - you saw the ring and you asked if... we were...engaged."

You look down at the diamond ring on your hand. Something in the way it catches the light reminds you of a moment in the Rosier kitchen: leaning against the butcher's table, your head pounding, a fog across your senses; Felix standing in front of you, as nervous as he is now. You hear your voice ask a question, and you hear Felix's response...

"I didn't know what to say! I didn't know how to explain the ring without mentioning Talbott, and I didn't know what else you remembered or-or how you felt about me. I just...I wanted you. I've always wanted you, so I...I said-"

" 'Only if you want to be'."

Felix's eyes meet yours. There's a soft, eager light in them, as if the memory is something he cherishes.

"You...remember that?"

'I didn't until just now."

You stare at the Felix in front of you, but your mind is faraway. Back in the kitchen, watching Felix wait for your answer. You stood there, your aching mind picking through its tangled memories, sorting through all your moments with Felix. The way he'd always been there for you at school. The way his seriousness made you laugh, and his little touches made you shiver. The decision was as easy as breathing.

"I said, yes," you whisper into the air.

Felix says nothing. He only nods.

The emotions writhing within you evaporate. Anger, desire, everything you've felt toward Felix is suddenly missing. Wind blows, and it sounds like a foreign language. The world around you is as unfamiliar and threatening as a different planet. You don't know how to exist in it. You can only stand, frozen and unsure.

After a minute of silence, Felix continues.

"I know I shouldn't have let you believe it, or - or let it go as far as I did. I should have sent you to America, like I meant to. But... I couldn't help it. I love you. I always have." Felix's hand jerks oddly, as if he meant to take yours before thinking better of it."I told myself it was better this way. That you were safer with me. But...you were right. I did it for myself, and I - I'm sorry. I know it doesn't fix anything, but I am. And, I want...to make it up to you."

This time, Felix lets his hand reach for yours. You make no move to stop him. He strokes your limp fingers delicately, as if they were made of glass.

"I made a mistake, and I - I hate what it's done to you. But I love you, Y/N. You can't pretend I don't. And if you'll let me, I'll spend my life making it up to you."

You can only stare. Your brain has forgotten how to form words. Felix is just beginning to look concerned, when the door to the Burrow's kitchen opens with a bang. The sound breaks your spell, and you rip your hand away.

"Get - off - my - land!"

Mr Weasley marches across the grass toward you, Mrs Weasley and Talbott in his wake. Mr Weasley's wand is stretched out in front of him, but Talbott gets there first. He sends a quick, silent hex flying across the yard. Felix has no time to block it. He throws himself to the ground to avoid the red light, then rolls into a crouch, wand at the ready.

"Come inside, Y/N, quickly!" Mrs Weasley grabs your arm and yanks you away. You let her drag you back toward the Burrow. Your legs are too weak to walk on their own. You watch Talbott hurl spell after spell at Felix, who blocks them as he beats a hasty retreat. He reaches the edge of the Weasley property, and with a last glance in your direction, disapparates.

"Sit here, dear. Let me make a cup of tea." Mrs Weasley pushes you into a chair. "I should never have left you alone, I can't believe I-"

Her prattle is interrupted by the slam of the kitchen door. Talbott tumbles inside, breathing heavily, still clutching his wand. His head swivels until he finds you.

"Why was he here?"

It's the first time in weeks you've stared into Talbott's yellow-gold eyes. They're flashing like you've never seen. You search for your voice. Your brain is still racing.

"What was he doing here, Y/N?"

Talbott stalks closer, his movements rigid. You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. You have no frame of reference for Talbott angry with you.

Mrs Weasley clears her throat. "Now really, Talbott, I don't think that's-"

"He just...came to talk." Your voice is a low rasp, but it cuts cleanly through Mrs Weasley's protests.

"To talk?"

"Yes."

A feral sort of growl escapes Talbott's throat. He turns, kneading the back of his neck viciously. He paces to the kitchen door, then back again, like a caged animal. It's almost frightening. But you're sick of feeling confusion and fear, and you're sick of feeling sorry. You'd rather be angry some more. You stand, letting the rage you couldn't finish venting on Felix flow through you again.

"So you talked?” Talbott spits the words, each syllable tight and clipped. "You talked to him after everything he's done? After you know what he is? He's a Death Eater, Y/N, and a liar. That's who you want to talk to?”

"At least he cared enough to come find me - unlike you." Your words shock Talbott into stillness. “I just disappear, you get some letter that doesn't even sound like me, and you just write me off as lost?"

Talbott is rooted to the floor. He can't move, even as you advance on him.

"What Felix did was terrible, Talbott. But he did it because he loves me."

"You want me to do something terrible to prove I love you?"

"I just want you to do something!"

Talbott's nostrils flare. His upper lip twitches like he's holding back a sneer.

"So, you'd like me better if I were more like Felix Rosier? If I kidnapped you? Cast spells on you to make you do what I want, like a puppet?"

"I wasn't a puppet!" Your vision blurs red, and you lose all control of your tongue. “Felix didn't force me to marry him, Talbott, I wanted to! When I didn't remember you anymore, I realised I was in love with him and I wanted to be with him. That's what he came for. To remind me of that."

The ghost of your words lingers in the kitchen for several minutes, each as long as years. Talbott's face is entirely blank. Mrs Weasley's hands are clapped over her mouth in horror. You don't care. Saying it out loud releases a weight from your shoulders. It leaves you light-headed and exhausted.

"So...you do love him."

It isn't a question. Talbott's voice is resigned. Guilt tugs at your heart, but you can't really feel it. You're too tired to feel much of anything.

"I don't know. I don't know...anything anymore." You fall into the nearest chair. You drop your head into your hands, your eyelids heavy. "I feel like I'm two different people. Like I've lived two different lives. I was happy in both of them, but... I don't know which one I am now. Maybe neither. I don't know how to choose."

Talbott blinks. It draws curtains over his molten eyes.

"You don't have to choose."

He turns and walks away from you, without a backward glance.

There's no reunion dinner that night. Mrs Weasley sends you straight up to bed. You hear her and Mr Weasley conversing in low tones into the wee hours of the morning. You pull the pillow over your head. You don't want to hear what they're saying about you.

It's two days before you're ready to rejoin the rest of the world. Another before you can eat and drink again properly. One more day, and you're participating in conversation, if only to nod or say, "Of course, Mrs Weasley." By the end of the week, you're as close to normal as you were before Felix's unexpected visit.

The days don't bring you any closer to an answer, but they do bring you further from heartache. You find it's easier to turn your mind from memories of Felix now you've confessed your love out loud. It's as if the feeling has lost power over you. Each day, the loss of him hurts slightly less.

The hardest part of your life now is how little you can do for the Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore's task for you reminds you unpleasantly of your school days: to lay low and let others handle it. You would happily ignore this if you thought you might be useful, but the truth is, you don't know how to help. There's no mystery to solve, no secrets to uncover. Just ones to protect.

Still, you attend each meeting, week after week. You help Mrs Weasley with the dinner beforehand and the cleaning afterward. You pay attention to the news that's shared. You contribute what insight your experiences offer.

But mostly you watch Talbott.

Talbott attends almost every meeting, but you never speak and he never approaches. He sits as close to the door as he can manage, and bolts the moment the meeting ends. He's careful never to turn his eyes on you. You watch him just the same. It’s so long since you’ve been in his presence without something horrible happening. Every movement he makes is mesmerizing, the way it always was at school. His sharp nods, his slow blinks, the tapping of his finger against the table you're sure he's unaware of.

You miss Talbott, you realise. Or maybe you just miss the part of your life he represents; the life you built together. The damage done to it seems irreparable. Though you spend many nights wracking your brain, you can think of no way to fix it.

Talbott may choose to ignore your eyes on him, but Mrs Weasley does not. She, at least, is not content to watch and wonder. She renews her encouragements that the two of you talk. She attempts to seat you together at meetings. You deflect her machinations as best you can, but Mrs Weasley won't be thwarted forever.

One evening she insists on arriving at Grimmauld Place earlier than usual. "It's a large meeting tonight, dear," she explains, a little too airily, "so we'll need to start dinner early. And I promised Sirius I would take a look at the drawing room curtains, he thinks the doxies are moving back in."

Sirius is sitting at the end of the kitchen table when the two of you enter. You call a soft greeting, but he merely lifts a hand and grunts. He's staring at a notebook on the table in front of him, as if waiting for words to appear in it. You light a fire with your wand and set water to boil, then begin chopping onions.

As you work, you notice Mrs Weasley shoot furtive glances at the clock. Her attitude is strangely expectant. Something about her nervous energy raises your hackles. When the doorbell clangs, you have a sneaking suspicion who it might be.

"I'll get it!" she says with entirely too much enthusiasm. You narrow your eyes at her as she leaves.

"Bit early, isn't it?" grumbles Sirius. You don't reply. You're listening hard to catch the sounds from the floor above. You hear the front door open, and the murmur of low voices. Your heart stutters as you recognise them both. Mrs Weasley returns to the kitchen with a stiff Talbott in tow. Her face is practically glowing.

"I'm so sorry, dear, Arthur must have got the times mixed up! The meeting's not for another half hour. We're just getting dinner ready, but there's a good bit to do. Perhaps you might be willing to pitch in?"

Talbott stops moving when he notices you. His head darts about the room, searching for an escape. There's a twinge of heartache at seeing him so desperate to get away from you. You turn back to the onions, face burning.

You hear Talbott mumble something about not being much good in the kitchen. Mrs Weasley ignores this entirely.

"Oh, just a bit of slicing. Nothing too difficult! A simple severing charm will work if you're uncomfortable with a knife."

Mrs Weasley drops a cutting board and several loaves of bread on the table. Even with your eyes down, you can see Talbott's hands in your peripheral vision. You wield your knife with extra care, worried you might sever one of your own jittery fingers.

The only sound in the room is the dull thud of blades on wood. After a minute, Mrs Weasley speaks into the awkward silence.

"Well, while I have you two here, I think I'll just pop upstairs and take a look at those curtains. Sirius," she calls, and you hear Sirius stir. "Why don't you show me which room they're in?"

"It's the curtains in the drawing room, Molly."

"Why don't you show me," Mrs Weasley says slowly behind a clenched smile. You can't see her face, but you're sure her eyes are boring into Sirius. He must have taken the hint. You hear his chair being pushed back hastily.

"Oh! Right, of course. I'll show you."

You close your eyes in a plea for patience. You're not sure whether you want to laugh or cry or throw an onion at Mrs Weasley's retreating back. When you open them again, Talbott is watching you. He looks away as soon as your eyes meet.

How long has it been since you were this close to Talbott? Close enough that you could reach across and touch his cheek, if you wanted. If you were still allowed.

Something changes in the room. It takes you a minute to realise what. The sporadic sound of Talbott's knife has stopped. You glance up and find him staring at your hand. You see thoughts race behind his molten eyes.

"What's wrong?" you ask softly, and feel instantly foolish. What isn't wrong in Talbott's life at the moment? You don't expect him to answer, but after a quick gulp he says, "Your ring." He nods at the naked skin of your fourth finger.

Your blush is almost painful. It's been so long since you wore your engagement ring, you've actually forgotten to miss it.

"I...took it off. It didn't feel right...under the circumstances."

Talbott doesn't reply. His head moves in something that might be a nod or a twitch. His eyes return to his cutting board.

You work in silence. A silence you grow quickly to hate. It feels ridiculous to be this uncomfortable around the man you've known for years, a man you know better than anyone else. You used to be able to read his silences so well, interpret meaning from his every change in posture. But you suppose you're both different people now. Each unsure what the other is thinking.

The tension reminds you of something. When you remember what it is, you can't stop a small chuckle. Talbott's head jerks up, eyes registering alarm.

"Do you remember when we first met?"

Talbott only blinks.

"At the start of third year?" you remind him. "When I decided I wanted to become an animagus, and Tulip said I ought to talk to you?"

"I remember," Talbott says. After a beat he adds, "Why?"

"I was just thinking...I think that's the last time I was this nervous to talk to you."

Talbott's eyes shed some of their armor. You catch a glimpse of the man you remember underneath.

"Why were you nervous to talk to me?"

"You were so...intimidating." You smile. It's a rusty, disused expression on your face now. "And you looked like the last thing in the world you wanted to do was talk to me. I was sure you must not like me for some reason."

It had taken so much courage to seat yourself at the Ravenclaw table that day. You'd defeated a cursed vault, battled yetis and werewolves, and Talbott's piercing gaze had made you more nervous than any of them.

You return to chopping, but Talbott remains still.

"I did like you. I'd fancied you since first year."

The knife slices cleanly through the pad of your finger. Drops of blood sprinkle the onions, but you barely notice. You're looking at Talbott in wonder.

"You never told me that."

"Your finger." Talbott nods at your bleeding hand.

"Why did you never tell me that?"

Talbott doesn't answer. He walks around the table toward you. Your heart beats louder with each step. He pries the knife from your suddenly clenched fist, and takes your bleeding hand in his. He taps his wand to your wound and murmurs a spell. The skin seals back up flawlessly. Talbott returns his wand to his pocket, but he doesn't release your hand.

Your gaze is drawn to his face by an impulse you can't control. Talbott's molten eyes are on your mouth. You watch his lips part, his tongue wet them nervously. But he doesn't speak. He doesn't move. You recognise the symptoms. You know he's trapped in his head. There's no parchment or quill to hand, but that tradition really belongs to two different people.

You lean in to Talbott's face until your lips are a breath apart. You pause, waiting for permission. Talbott hesitates, and your heart stops. Then he closes the narrow space between you. Your lips meet, then meet again. You had forgotten what it feels like to kiss Talbott, or maybe it was never like this before. Your lips tingle, and your skin crawls with desire to be touched. Talbott's mouth is careful, almost reluctant, as if he's sure you'll be gone in a moment. You want to promise him you won't be, but neither of you could believe that now.

When Talbott doesn't draw you to him the way you're used to, you pull away. You search his face for answers. Yellow-gold eyes meet yours, begging for something you don't understand. You've always been the one to figure out the next move, but this time you need his help.

"Talbott." Your voice is a whisper. "What do we do now?"

"I don't know," Talbott murmurs. He closes his eyes so you can't see him think.

"I don't know how to fix this," you admit softly.

You lower your gaze to your hands. Your fingers are still twined together.

"Maybe you can't."

You look up, your heart horribly still. "Is that...what you want?"

Talbott untangles his fingers from yours.

"I want you to be happy. Even...if that's not with me."

You don't know what to say. You open your mouth hoping the right words will appear on their own, when he kitchen door bangs open.

Talbott jumps away from you as if hexed. You look up, expecting to see Mrs Weasley.

It's Professor Snape. By itself, this isn't unusual. Snape is a member of the Order, and he attends every meeting he cannot avoid. It isn't his presence that's cause for concern, it's his unfamiliar expression: one of pale fear. A look you've never seen on the forbidding Professor. The implication leaves you cold. If something has happened to worry Snape...

"What's wrong, Professor?" you ask.

"Potter," and even Snape's voice is missing its usual sneer. "Where is Black?"

You must look ridiculous, you think to yourself, sprinting through the Ministry for Magic alongside Talbott and Sirius in a sundress of all things. At school, there was always time to dress carefully before running into danger. But Harry Potter and his friends are trapped in the Department of Mysteries, and you're determined to help, no matter what you're wearing.

"What are they doing here?" Mad-Eye Moody addresses Talbott as the three of you reach the lifts. "They can't be here. They're not aurors."

Both you and Sirius begin to argue at once. Your recitation of all the dark wizards and dangerous creatures you've defeated is drowned by Sirius' roars of, "I'm his godfather!" Your words reverberate through the huge, empty chamber until Moody slams his staff against the ground for silence.

"There's no time. Just get in!"

The four of you squeeze into the lift where Kingsley Shacklebolt, Remus Lupin, and Tonks are already waiting. The small space throbs with tension as the lift makes its impassively slow descent.

"Isn't there another way?" Sirius barks, slapping his wand against his leg.

"No," says Kingsley shortly.

Moody shuffles about to fix his normal, beady eye on you.

"Seeing as neither of you are aurors, and you ought not to be here in the first-"

"I am Harry's godfather!"

"Then make him your responsibility!" Moody snaps at Sirius. "You, Remus, and Y/N: find the students and get them out. Leave the Death Eaters to us."

You give a sharp nod. Talbott shifts uncomfortably next to you.

The lift finally settles. Your party is out and running before the doors click shut behind you. Moody leads the way through the Department of Mysteries labyrinth, a strange instrument in the hand not holding his wand apparently providing him directions.

"This way!" he calls, leading the group through another door.

Adrenaline courses through you as you run. It's a feeling as familiar as your old school robes. This is your element. For the first time in so long, you’re unburdened by confusion or indecision. When you burst through a door to find black-robed figures surrounding two students, you know exactly what to do.

In front of you, the aurors advance on the Death Eaters. Their spells fill the room with light and sound. You wait until the Death Eaters have turned to face this new threat, then descend toward the dark-haired boys, yanking them into a crouch behind a stone step.

"Where are the others?"

You have to shout to be heard over the noise of the duelling around you. The boy with glasses - Harry Potter, you realise by the scar - rips his eyes away from the fight.

"Up there! They're still in that other room." He gestures at a different door than the one you entered through. "The girls are all unconscious, I think. And Ron - one of those brain things got him. You have to help them!"

You twist around, searching for Sirius or Lupin. Sirius is a few rows down, a wide grin on his face as he duels. Lupin, you don't see at all. You cast about for threats, but the boys don't appear to be in immediate danger.

"Stay here," you order them, feeling a bit of a hypocrite. "Wands out, heads down."

Keeping your body low to minimise your target, you sprint up the stairs. None of the Death Eaters have a glance to spare for you, and you make it to the door unmolested. Before you push through it, you can't help but look back, scanning the fight for yellow-gold eyes.

Talbott is dueling a Death Eater nearly twice his girth. You watch, transfixed. You've never seen Talbott move like this. He's usually twitchy, better in the air than on his feet. Now, as he duels, his movements are smooth and precise. He twists to avoid a purple spell, then spins back, sending a stunner of his own. It catches the Death Eater in the chest, and he drops instantly. In spite of everything, you grin.

As if able to feel your gaze, Talbott's eyes find yours across the room. You nod your head at the door to indicate your direction. Then, with a last look at Talbott, you hurtle through.

Desks and shelves and heavy tables indicate the room is some sort of office. Only every single piece of furniture is now overturned or collapsed. You step with caution, but still manage to slip. The floor is slick with liquid. You notice strange, jelly-like objects floating in the shallow pools - the brains Harry Potter had mentioned? You take care to avoid them as you search for signs of the students.

"Hello?" you call softly. There's no answer.

You reach the middle of the room and survey your surroundings. There's a door just ahead; another to the side. You're considering which is more likely when you hear shallow breathing nearby. You ready your wand, then hesitate. It could be one of the students, hiding from you. Ron or Ginny would know you right away, but not the others.

"It's alright," you call again. "I'm here to get you out. I'm a friend. I'm with the Order."

"Well, hello, Friend with the Order."

You whirl around. A tall figure in a black hood emerges from behind a fallen cabinet. Without pause for thought you yell, "Stupefy!" but he easily sidesteps the spell. You cast a quick shield charm, blocking his return attack, then steady yourself for another. But the Death Eater hesitates. His hood flicks to a space over your left shoulder. On instinct, you dive to the side. Red sparks explode through the air where your body had been, thrown by a second Death Eater behind you. His spell hits the other masked figure in the arm and he howls in rage and pain.

"Watch where you're aiming!" he snarls, clutching his injury.

You use the second's distraction to throw yourself behind a desk. You lean back against it, breathing through your nose and thinking past your racing heartbeat. The wreckage of furniture forms an almost unbroken wall for several metres. If you can just make it around without them noticing...

One of the Death Eaters shouts a curse. Red light slams your hiding spot into the wall with a crash. But you're already two desks away, flat against the floor and crawling carefully. Your dress snags as you press close to the wall of splintered wood.

"Just kill her!"

"Rosier said not to kill until we're sure Malfoy has the prophecy. You want to go back to the Dark Lord empty-handed?"

"That's the students, not the Order members.'

These words make your heart stutter horribly. Your hand slips on the wet floor.

"Over there!"

Heavy footfalls sound nearby. You straighten, but only make it to your knees before two hooded figures loom over the desk. There's time to aim a stunning spell at only one. The Death Eater you hit drops instantly, but your stomach still clenches in dread. The other's wand is pointed at your face and his spell is already half voiced.

"Avada-"

You throw yourself flat, your only hope that the spell might miss. You hold your breath, waiting for bright green light.

But the rest of the curse never comes. There’s the thud of a body hitting the floor. Then rapid footsteps. You roll over quickly, wand at the ready.

"Y/N?"

Felix's black hood is thrown back. His rich brown eyes gaze down at you, swimming in fear and relief. You squeeze your own shut to stop yourself staring. It's been so long since you've seen that expression, you'd forgotten how much you missed it. Or maybe you've never been so glad to see it. You take in large gulps of air, trying to catch your breath.

"Are you alright? What are you doing here?“

Felix's panicked words remind your of your mission. You push yourself up with a groan, skin smarting where it's smacked the hard floor. Felix bends hastily, holding out a hand. You hesitate for only a second before letting him pull you to your feet.

It's a moment before either of you can speak. Felix inspects you from head to toe, presumably searching for injuries. You straighten your dress, trying to hide your blush. You wish you were wearing something more substantial.

"I...thank you...I guess," you say at last, to your shoes. You're not quite ready to look Felix in the face.

Felix doesn't answer. You lift your gaze, head buzzing with nerves, and catch him staring at your hand.

"You're...not wearing your ring," Felix says haltingly. An eager light flickers briefly in his eyes. "Are you and Talbott...not-"

Your face contorts in annoyance. You cross your arms to hide your hand.

"Is this really the time?"

Shaking his head as if to clear it, Felix answers, "No. No it's not." Hints of concern reform on his features. "Y/N, you have to go. Now."

"I'm not going anywhere,” you insist hotly. “Not until I find the other students."

"They're safe. Relatively. As safe as I could manage. If the aurors hurry, they can get them out in time.”

"What do you mean, as safe as you can manage?"

"We have them rounded up in another room," Felix explains rapidly, eyes darting nervously to the doors. "I convinced the others we could use them as leverage, so they're not about to be killed. I'll make sure the aurors finds them, I promise. Just trust me."

At the word We, you can't suppress a shiver. It isn't the pleasant sort of shiver Felix usually inspires.

"Trust you?" you repeat, adjusting your grip on your wand. "You're a Death Eater, Felix."

Felix makes a noise of exasperation. He shuffles in place, as if desperate to be gone.

"That doesn't mean I want students to be killed. I'm not a murderer."

"How could I know? You've already proven you're more than willing to lie to me when it suits you."

"That was to keep you safe! " Felix almost shouts in frustration. "Exactly what I'm trying to do now!"

He makes a sudden movement as if to grab your shoulders. You jump back, wand lifting on instinct. Felix freezes. He eyes your wand, and perhaps you're only imagining hurt in the lines of his face. When he speaks again, his words are fast and strained.

"Y/N, I made a mistake. An awful mistake, and I'm paying for it every day I'm not with you. Every day I wake up and realise I have - have nothing." Felix's voice cracks briefly. "I know I deserve that. I deserve for you not to trust me. But you have to believe that all I want in the world is get you out of here alive."

You wish you didn't believe him. It would make everything so much easier. But in spite of his crimes, your instinct about Felix hasn't changed. You can't imagine him ever doing anything to hurt you. On purpose, anyway.

"If that's true," you say softly, "Then help me get the students out. Because I'm not going anywhere until I do."

It's clear from Felix's grimace how much he dislikes this plan. He runs desperate fingers through his hair, searching for cracks in your resolute expression. But your face remains firm. Felix is finally forced to sigh.

"Alright. Follow me."

Felix leads you through the twisting labyrinth of rooms and corridors, most showing evidence of a fight. Doors are splintered or hang off hinges, and you have to watch your feet to avoid scattered piles of broken glass. You're just beginning to be concerned about how far in you are when Felix stops outside a heavy, un-battered door. A low mutter of voices carries from inside.

"Stay here," Felix whispers. Catching sight of your raised eyebrows, he adds, "Please. There are guards. I'll need to get rid of them."

"I can help," you whisper back, but Felix shakes his head. Only your desire to find the students quickly keeps you from further protests. Reluctantly, you lean against the wall out of sight of the door. Felix readjusts his black hood before sweeping into the room.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind him, you press your ear to the jam. You can hear Felix's footsteps walking away, his voice mingling with the others. You lean in closer, trying to make out the words, until a deafening bang from inside makes you flinch. You hear footsteps again, this time coming closer, running fast across hard floor. You grip the doorknob but hesitate, unsure whether to intervene.

Someone shouts an incantation. There's a heavy thud, and a voice cries out in pain. Felix's voice. Without thinking, you grab the handle and fling the door wide.

It takes you only a second to locate Felix, hood askew and blood dripping from his face, on the floor in the middle of the dimly lit room. Another hooded figure looms over him, wand out and aimed.

"Stupefy!"

Your jet of light hits the Death Eater square in the chest. Without waiting to watch him fall, you swing your wand from side to side, searching for enemies. But the only other robed figure you see lies prone beside a door set into the opposite wall.

Felix groans. You step forward quickly, holding out your hand and helping him struggle to his feet. There's a long, clean gash down the side of his face. You're surprised at how sick the sight of the wound makes you.

"Are you alright?"

"I - yes, of course. That was..." Felix rubs the back of his neck, not quite able to meet your eye. "Thank you."

You're saved from thinking up a reply by a muffled cry from behind. Three girls and a boy, all dressed in Hogwarts robes, are huddled against the wall as if thrown there, each trussed up in snaking, black cords. Only one is awake and struggling.

"Ginny!"

You skirt the fallen Death Eater and drop to the ground, using your wand to sever Ginny's bonds. As soon as you tug the cord out of her mouth, Ginny croaks, "Y/N, he's one of them! He's a Death Eater, too!"

You follow her frantic gaze to Felix, standing awkwardly in the background.

"It's alright, Ginny. He's a friend."

Felix blinks, and for a moment his face is filled with the soft joy you love so much to see. Then a door slams.

Felix whirls around, wand raised, and you're on your feet only a second later. But no attack comes; no spells fly. You glance between the doors on either end of the room, but no new hooded figures appear. Instinct suddenly chills your blood and you scan the floor instead.

"Where's...the other one?" you ask haltingly.

Felix's eyes widen as he understands. He shoots a panicked look at the place where the Death Eater had fallen, but his body is nowhere to be seen. Felix sprints to the far door, pressing his ear against it.

"He...must have gone to get the others."

Felix runs his wand across the door frame, sealing it with a squelch. You turn back to Ginny, struggling to stand on what looks like a broken ankle. You mutter, "Episkey" and watch the swelling in the ankle subside, then inspect the other three students. It isn't immediately clear what's wrong with them, but none react when you attempt to use magic to wake them.

"We'll have to carry them," you tell Felix, at your side once more. "You take Ron and I'll get the taller girl. Ginny, do you think you could carry the blonde one? She looks the lightest."

"This isn't going to work." Something in Felix's voice makes your skin crawl.

"Why not?”

"It’s too late. The rest of the Death Eaters will be here in minutes. Even if we use magic to carry them, we'll never make it to the lifts in time."

A leaden weight sinks in your stomach. There's too much truth in Felix's words for you to deny. You cast about for counterpoints, solutions, some sort of foolproof plan, but your brain comes up short.

"Well," you say, forcing yourself to breathe through your panic, "We'll just have to try. Maybe there's somewhere we can hide, or-"

A second slam in as many minutes almost shatters your brittle nerves. You fumble with your wand, aiming it at the door nearest you this time, and almost drop it when you recognise the intruders.

"Talbott," you breathe in relief. "Tonks, Lupin, thank Merlin! The students are here and we've got to get them out. Now. Death Eaters are on the way..."

But Talbott's face steals the words from your lips. He's staring at Felix with eyes so molten they might be made of fire. When he speaks, his voice thrums with suppressed hatred.

"Drop it." Talbott gives a curt nod at Felix's half-raised wand.

Felix's gaze flicks warily from Talbott to Tonks, her wand also lifted, to Lupin, ignoring the stand-off and kneeling to inspect the unconscious students. You notice all three are pale and grim-faced, and you wonder what else has happened. But there isn't time for questions now.

"I said, drop it!"

"Talbott, wait!" You step quickly in between the two men. "Felix led me here. He was keeping the students safe."

Talbott doesn't even blink. If it weren't for his reply, you'd wonder if he heard you at all.

"One half-decent act doesn't make him any less of a Death Eater."

"But he isn't helping the Death Eaters, he's helping us! Helping me. He saved my life from a Death Eater that-"

"This isn't about you!" Flame flickers in Talbott's eyes. "This isn't about us. This is my job. We're rounding up all the Death Eaters. You'll have to plead his case to Mad-Eye, if that's what you want."

The thought of trying to convince Mad-Eye Moody to give Felix a second chance makes you blanch. You open your mouth to argue, but this time it's Felix who cuts you off.

"You won't have to worry about in any of that in a minute. A dozen powerful wizards are on their way through that door." Felix jerks his head toward the other end of the room. "I highly doubt you'll be able to round them all up just the three of you."

Talbott spares a wary glance at the far door.

"He's right," Tonks chimes in, her voice uncharacteristically serious. "Let's get the students out first, then come back with Mad-Eye and the others."

Tonks lowers her wand, and moves to help Lupin with the unconscious teenagers. Lupin has already lifted the taller, bushy-haired girl over his shoulder, and uses his wand to levitate the unconscious Ron. Tonks mirrors his spell on the small, blonde girl. She wraps her free arm around Ginny to help keep weight of her still-tender ankle.

"We'll never make it at that pace," Felix says darkly, eyeing the careful way Lupin manoeuvres Ron toward the door. "They'll catch us up before we're halfway to the lifts."

"You're not going anywhere until you drop your wand!" Talbott tries to point his wand around you at Felix, but you move with him, blocking his view. Behind you, Felix snorts.

"And leave myself unarmed when they all surge in at any second? I've betrayed them! They'll spare me about as much mercy as they will you."

A soft sound from the far end of the room suddenly stops your heart. All three of you fall silent as you watch the doorknob turn slowly. It rotates each way once, then stills. You hold your breath, braced for another loud slam, but the door remains closed.

"Tonks," you say into the trembling silence, "You and Lupin, take the students and go."

Lupin is two steps ahead of you. He has Ron through the door already, and waits impatiently for Tonks. But Tonks looks from you to Talbott uncertainly.

"I think...we ought to stick together."

"We'll be right behind you," you say. "We'll give you time to get to the lifts." You try to smile reassuringly, but your mouth doesn't remember how. You can only hope you sound more confident than you look.

Tonks continues to hesitate, until a hard thud on the opposite door makes her and Ginny both jump.

"Come on!" Lupin calls from the other room. Tonks shoots a final, unsure look at Talbott before forcing the eerily floating blonde student ahead of her through the door.

Another thud, then the sound of voices echoes from the other side of the room. The doorknob rattles again, violently this time. The noise seems to shake Talbott from his unswervable anger. His wand wavers before finally abandoning Felix for the far door, his eyes reflecting frantic thought.

"What spell did you use on the door?" you ask Felix, your voice betraying your nerves. Felix's answer is equally unsteady.

"It's a variation on an imperturbable charm. But it's not impenetrable. With enough of them, they can break the spell." Felix's head snaps toward you, mouth set in a thin, grim line. "Y/N, you need to leave. Now. Go with the others."

"That's ridiculous, we stand a better chance with three of us.“

"He's right." Both you and Felix look at Talbott in shock. For the first time since entering the room, Talbott meets your gaze. "You need to go."

"I'm not leaving you," you argue, holding Talbott's eyes. You're close enough that you can watch the fire in them melt into liquid, like a churning yellow-gold ocean.

"Please, Y/N, go." And there's a pain in Talbott's voice like you've never heard. "I can't lose you. Not again."

Your heart breaks gently at Talbott's confession. Exactly as it had when he first managed to pen those words. You wish you could promise him something, anything to assuage his fear. But the far door is shaking now. You've run out of time. You take a breath, steeling yourself for a last stand, the way you have so many times before. Facing death is nothing new for you, but you don't want anything to be left unsaid if it comes.

"Talbott." You close the distance between you in short, measured steps, as though worried he might fly away. "I did get lost...but I found my way back. You led me back. And I'm not going anywhere. Not ever again. I - I promise." Your fingers brush Talbott's softly, asking permission. "Whatever happens, happens to both of us."

Talbott's fingers close around yours on instinct. He grips your hand tightly, all his attention on you as if there were nothing else in the room.

"Do you mean that?"

You can only nod, your words exhausted. But he sees the answer in the spark of your eye.

"Y/N." Talbott releases your hand to reach for your face. He strokes your cheek in careful wonder like he's forgotten how. You close your eyes, reveling in his touch.

"Go."

The word startles both of you. Talbott let his hand fall abruptly. You turn to face Felix, unable to hide a slight blush. Talbott's mere touch has made you so dizzy you can't comprehend Felix's meaning right away.

"What?"

"Go. Both of you, go." Something has changed in Felix’s voice. It's no longer nervous. It's no longer anything. It's empty and lifeless, like the voice of a corpse. "I'll distract them. Tell them some story. Buy you enough time to get to the lifts."

You shake your head slowly. "No...Felix, that's...there must be some other-"

Felix takes your chin delicately in his hand, and your voice trails away. You feel Talbott shift beside you, but Felix moves no closer. His empty eyes merely wander your face, as if trying to memorise each part of it.

"Y/N. Let me do this. For you. I-" His voice cracks like dead leaves. "I never meant to hurt you."

The pounding on the far door intensifies. The heavy wood splinters, and light pokes through from the other side. If anything else can be seen, your vision is too blurry to catch it. You close your hand around Felix's, trying to blink back the tears. There's so much you want to say to him. To this man who handles you so delicately, looks at you like treasure, loves you like you're the only thing in the world that matters. But you aren't sure there are words to explain how you feel. You can only nod, and say inadequately, "I know."

Felix releases your face, then locks eyes with Talbott.

"Keep her safe."

Talbott's jaw tenses once before he manages a short nod. He grasps your hand again and tugs you gently toward the door.

You take a last look at Felix Rosier, watching you walk away from him.

"Go," he says once more.

Felix turns to face the oncoming noise. And you turn and run the other way, Talbott at your side.

You don't stop running until you reach the lifts. Talbott guides you back through the labyrinth of rooms, never loosing his grip on your fingers. There's no sign of Tonks, Lupin, and the students, and you can only hope distantly that they've made it out alright. Once inside the lift, you throw yourself against the wall. Your breathing comes in short, painful gasps and hot tears still threaten the corners of your eyes.

"Are you alright?" Talbott's voice is so quiet you almost miss it under the sound of blood pounding in yours ears.

You glance up at Talbott, blinking through your tears. He stands stock still, eyes alert and tense. You choke back a mad laugh. It reminds you forcibly of teenaged Talbott: the awkward, anxious boy you fell in love with almost instantly, whose stillness hid such depths and inspired the best in you.

"Yes," you answer honestly, wiping your eyes. "I'm - I'm alright." You take a shuddering breath, trying to settle your swirling thoughts. "Talbott... I-"

There's no time to worry about finding the right words. Talbott takes your face in his hands and stops you with a kiss like wildfire. He clutches you to him, dragging his hands across you artlessly, trying to pull you into him until you occupy the same space. It's a closeness you've craved for so long, and your hands are no less wild. You can never have enough of this. Enough of him.

You tear your lips away, gasping for breath, but Talbott won’t release you. You're forced to speak against his neck as he clings to you for life.

"Talbott, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." You repeat the words over and over. You can't think of anything else to say. Talbott's head shakes where its pressed against yours.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

"What?"

You struggle to ease Talbott’s hold on you just enough so you can meet his molten eyes.

"You've always come after me. All the time I've known you, our whole lives - I run and you come find me. And the one time you needed me to come find you, I didn't. I was...too afraid." Talbott tangles his fingers in your hair, closing the fraction of space between you again, until his forehead rests against yours. "But this time, I promise...I won't let you go. Not ever again."

For once, it's you that can’t give your thoughts voice. When the lift doors open, you and Talbott are still clasped together, speaking softly in a language that communicates feeling better than words ever could.

Epilogue

"Good morning," you whisper huskily in your husband's ear.

He groans without opening his eyes. You giggle softly, trailing breathy, teasing kisses up his neck, under his chin. His lips part, inviting yours into a lazy, lingering kiss. When you pull away, his eyes remain firmly shut.

"You're sleepy this morning," you murmur.

Talbott cracks an eye. "You know, some people sleep in on their honeymoon."

"Really?"

"Mmhmm. Some people even enjoy it."

You trace his collarbone with a finger. You can hear Talbott's breath catch.

"Strange. I enjoy my waking life a lot more than dreams."

Talbott stirs, at your touch or your words. He rolls you over in his arms until you're pinned beneath him. You revel in the sensation of being very slightly crushed by the body you adore.

"What's so great about it, then?" Talbott asks in dry amusement. "The smell of the sea, or the sound of the waves, or the room service that means we never actually have to get out of bed?"

You grin, and shake your head against the pillow. "None of the above."

"Really?"

"Really." You trail your fingernails lightly up and down Talbott's back, savouring the feel of his warm skin. Talbott shudders under your hands. He locks eyes with you, his molten, yellow-gold stare saying everything you love to hear. He leans down to murmur against your lips:

"What then?"

You smile. Your mouth meets Talbott's and you say in between tantalising kisses:

"I'm Mrs Talbott Winger. I'm your wife. I'm on my honeymoon - in the middle of a war, where we're being constantly hunted - but...I'm with you. So I'm better than safe."

Talbott's only response is another kiss, but you know exactly what he means.

#felix rosier #talbott winger #felix rosier x mc #felix rosier reader insert #Talbott winger reader insert #Talbott winger x mc #felix rosier fanfiction #talbott winger fanfiction #hphm fanfiction #hphm #hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery fanfic #juniper windsong #reader insert #love triangle #dark!

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soukoku-rivals · 5 years

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Chapter 3.5

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Ko-fi

Read from right to left.

In which Loki finds out that this time he really messed up.

As I said earlier, this chapter is just a short interlude between Part 1 and Part 2 of the story.

Under any other circumstances Chuuya is strong enough to save himself and he would detest any help, especially from Dazai. This time, however, Dazai better hurry.

And here I was thinking the letters would be too small for people to see.

Dostoevsky is a chessmaster, he planned everything from the beginning. It’s a lot of fun when Dazai finally realizes it. I’m always mean to my favourite characters.

I’m sorry about you bad day. Hope this week starts better <3

Thank you! It always seems to me the story is going slowly, no matter how many useless pages I eventually discard. It’s amazing that people stay for so long.

The only excuse I have for Dazai is that it’s late and he was tired and dejected after being unable to return the ADA’s memories andd honestly didn’t think that Loki would bother to find Chuuya. Though still, he should have realized something was wrong when he saw Chuuya in front of the building.

At least one person is happy, thenk you! This way at least there’s a possibility of experiencing a serious fight between Chuuya and the Agency.

I’ll get used to ‘Dostoevsky’... hopefully. Habits from reading fanfiction are a terrible thing when it comes to school. I remember using some expressions from fanfics during English classes and the teacher always said they were wrong. Turns out they were colloquial and the teacher just wanted us to learn ‘the proper English’.

I’m happy there’s some improvement in my style. I still have a lot of trouble with hands, though. And the eye size is inconsistent. There’s quite a lot to complain about, but I’m happy it looks better than early pages.

Also, a reblog, because it has the best conversation between Dazai and Kouyou:

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asksciencesquad · 6 years

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WELP guess I should finally post this damn thing. I’ve picked at it wayyyy more than I need to and I just have to accept that it’s never going to be perfect.

I referenced this event like 500 years ago in a previous ask if anyone even remembers but decided it was too ambitious for a whole comic, then realized it would be a good excuse to write again. Sorry if you guys were expecting something visual, but it just be like that sometimes. I haven’t done any creative writing in a while (let alone post it on the internet) so it’s probably not my best the plot structure is weird, the narrative distance is wildly inconsistent, there’s probably way too much dialogue but it’s something and it’s actually done, so here we are.

(s/o to those of my friends who were able to read this and give me feedback, you’re amazing and I love u)

Summary: The squad visits the Barrier to do some research for an ongoing study. Things quickly go off the rails.

New Home was easily the busiest place in the entire Underground. Monsters of all shapes and sizes lived in the capital, bustling about its streets almost every hour of the day. Most of the inhabitants paid little mind to the others around them, too focused on their own business to pay attention to anyone else.

The three monsters hurrying through the crowds drew a few stares, however.

“G, could you slow down a little bit??” Sans called to the colleague rushing ahead of him. A few feet behind him, Alphys struggled to keep up. She adjusted the backpack slung over her shoulders, muttering something about a laptop.

Gaster stopped and waited for the other two to catch up. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize you were falling behind.” He set down the case he was carrying. He hoped the delicate scientific instruments inside hadn’t been jostled too much from his running. Normally he would’ve been a lot more careful with them, but he and his friends were behind schedule.

Sans set his case down as well, flexing his fingers a few times to unstiffen them. “The streets are so packed. They really couldn’t have sent us at a less busy time of the day?”

Gaster shrugged a little. “I’m sure they just wanted to make things harder for us. At least we’re almost there.” He turned to look at the imposing structure of the castle, visible even from several blocks away. The stone walls rose higher than most of the other buildings, making it discernible from far outside the city. It was the same monotonous gray as the other buildings around it and in the rest of New Home. The only significant difference was that the tops of the castle’s tallest towers had been painted blue – a bright spot of color in a sea of gray.

Neither he nor his friends had ever been inside. While the King could often be found wandering the streets and making small talk with his subjects, the castle was largely closed off to ordinary citizens. Gaster, at least, was excited to see it. The three of them were being sent to go to the Barrier, collecting measurements for an ongoing study. Gaster was interested to see it in person; maybe it was twisted to look forward to seeing the very thing that trapped him and his fellow monsters underground, but his curiosity got the better of him.

The tall skeleton looked back at his companions. “Should we keep going?”

Sans picked up his case again; the lizard monster next to him squinted at Gaster. “Just remember not to leave us behind again. Not everyone has a three-foot stride like you do,” she said.

“Oh, my strides are not three feet long,” Gaster responded. He smirked. “Maybe if you two weren’t so short, you could keep up.”

“H-hey!” Alphys protested. “We’re both slightly below average. You’re the one who’s ridiculously tall!”

“… Yeah, I guess that’s true.” At six and a half feet, he certainly towered over a good portion of the monster population.

By now they were only a few blocks from the castle. A flight of stairs led up to the entrance where several Royal Guards were stationed, watching closely for any signs of trouble. The sight was a little intimidating, even to the most innocent civilians.

“So…” Sans scanned the line of guards. “How does this work, exactly? Do you go up to them and say, ‘Hey, we’re the guys here to look at the Barrier, please let us in’? Or is the King himself maybe gonna bring us there?” Sans gave Alphys a playful nudge. Her normally yellow scales reddened.

Gaster rolled his eyes. “What we need to do is show them the official letter that was sent to the lab asking for someone to help collect the data. The guards and the King should know we’re coming.”

“Letter, huh? Didja get that when you volunteered all three of us to do this without asking me and Alphys first?”

“Are you still upset about that?” Gaster replied. “Okay, I know I probably should have asked, but if I hadn’t spoken up someone else would have volunteered. I figured all three of us could use a few more brownie points after the last… incident.”

There was an awkward pause between all three of them. A couple weeks ago, a power transformer they had been working on sparked violently, starting a small fire in their lab. No one got hurt, and the damage was minor, but nobody at the facility had been very happy with them. Gaster continued. “This won’t even take that long – a couple hours, at most. Besides, have either of you ever seen the Barrier?” He glanced back at his colleagues. They both shook their heads. “Neither have I. It’ll be interesting.”

They were almost at the stairs leading up to the castle’s main entrance. If the guards noticed them, they didn’t show any sign of it, remaining as stoic as ever. The scientists paused at the bottom of the steps, and Gaster fished the printed document from his pocket. He unfolded it and looked it over, his confidence wavering. He could usually keep his head in these kinds of situations, but the fact that this task involved royal affairs made him apprehensive. The stares of the ever-watching guards weren’t helping, either.

“Uh… do either of you want to ask them about this?” he asked hopefully, looking back at his friends.

“Nah, I’m good,” Sans answered.

Alphys shook her head. “You got us into this, you should do it.”

“What are you muttering about down there?” a gruff voice said behind them.

Gaster turned quickly to see who had addressed them. A large dragon-monster guard stood in front of the rest of the castle’s lineup, giving them a hard look.

“Oh, uh, nothing!” Gaster answered hastily. “We’re just, uh…” He climbed the steps up to the guard, Sans and Alphys following behind. He showed the letter to the dragon. “Actually, we’re here to look at the Barrier. I’m sure King Asgore told you we’d be coming, right?”

The guard grabbed the paper and looked it over. “Oh yeah, I remember hearing about this.” He stuffed the letter in his own pocket. “Don’t suppose you three have some kinda ID, do you?”

Gaster and Alphys produced their ID cards from the lab, at which the guard gave a nod of approval. Sans had to dig around in his pocket, but finally found his card and held it up for the guard to see. It was far more beat up than the other two, and had a strange stain on one corner. After a couple seconds, the guard nodded, albeit hesitantly.

He turned to the lineup of other guards. “Artan, take these guys up to the Barrier,” he said, pointing at a lion monster.

“Yes, sir. Follow me,” the guard said with a look at the scientists. They gathered up their gear and followed him to the doors. The guard let them enter before stepping into the castle himself. The entrance was large, as expected. The walls were made of gray stone, much smoother and polished than the exterior. A large and ornate rug covered most of the floor. The weak light of the Underground trickled through several small windows placed high above them, and a chandelier hung from the ceiling. Besides a couple chairs pushed up against the walls, the area was otherwise rather empty – almost uncomfortably so.

Artan led them down a side hallway. The scientists followed closely behind in silence. After a moment, he peered back at them. “So… all three of you are scientists?” he asked.

“Yup,” Sans said, nodding. “We’re all huge nerds.”

“Really? You guys don’t look like it.”

“Like scientists?” Gaster raised a brow. “What are we supposed to look like?”

The guard thought. “I dunno. Lab coats, older, kinda stuffy…” He looked directly at Gaster. “I kinda thought you were a bodyguard or something at first.”

“What? Why?”

Artan looked away, clearly uncomfortable. “Uh… mostly ‘cause of the cracks, honestly.”

Of course. Gaster reached up to touch the small crack running over his right brow. It certainly wasn’t the first time someone had made an assumption like that, but it never failed to bother him. “Yeah, uh… those are just from an old accident,” he said. “Trust me, I’m definitely not cut out for the Royal Guard or anything.”

“No kidding,” Sans said, snorting. “Can you even imagine? You’d probably get slaughtered on your first day.”

“Heh, yeah, probably.” He actually found the idea pretty unsettling, but he wouldn’t say anything with an actual guard around.

Artan shrugged. “Well, I guess you’d know better than me.”

***

The rest of the trip was quiet. When words were exchanged, they were usually just one or two-word sentences. Evidently the awkward conversation earlier had set the mood for everyone.

Artan led them onto a couple elevators and through several winding, gray hallways. Soon, the group entered a new hallway that was vastly different from the others. Polished tiles covered the floor, and one wall was covered in detailed murals outlining the history of monsterkind. On the opposite wall were several stained-glass windows. Yellow light filtered through them, casting the hall in a warm glow.

Sans whistled. “Impressive. This must be an important hall.”

“We’re close to the throne room,” Artan explained. “And just beyond that is the Barrier.” He didn’t seem as awed by the corridor as the three visitors. Gaster figured he’d seen it dozens of times before.

Another gray passageway greeted them when they exited the hall, which then led to the throne room. It was even brighter than the golden hallway. King Asgore’s throne sat in the center, surrounded by small yellow flowers. Gaster looked at the flowers at his feet, getting a sinking feeling in his soul. He knew they had come from the surface. That fact might have been exciting in any other context, but every monster in the Underground knew why they were growing here.

The guard led them down a passageway that led to where the Barrier was. At first it steadily got darker, but at some point their surroundings grew lighter again. Gaster’s eyes widened as they entered the Barrier room. It took up a large portion of the back wall, pulsing with white light. The whole area was filled with a strong and alien energy that could only be human magic.

“Feels weird, right?” the guard asked. He stayed near the doorway as the other three walked closer to the Barrier. “There aren’t many things I’m afraid of, but this place kinda gives me the creeps.”

Reading about the Barrier’s effects was one thing, but actually feeling it was entirely different; being this close to such a powerful magical force was indeed a little unsettling. Gaster felt it permeate through his bones, stronger than he could ever hope his own magic could be. It was unlike anything he’d experienced before.

He pushed his discomfort to the back of his mind. Pleasant or not, they had work to do. “Well, we might as well get started,” he said. Kneeling down, he opened his case and looked over the various science instruments, trying to decide which one to set up first.

“And I’ll boot up the laptop,” Alphys offered, taking off her backpack and unzipping it. In almost a whisper she added, “The sooner we start, the sooner we can leave.” Gaster was a little surprised that Alphys wasn’t more enthusiastic - she was usually excited about anything related to humans. She must’ve found the Barrier’s magic particularly uncomfortable.

As they all busied themselves with their setup, Artan stood by the door in silence. After a moment, he took a few more steps into the room. “Do the three of you need anything else? Cuz if you don’t, then I’ll just… leave…” He jerked his thumb at the door awkwardly.

Gaster looked up from the device he was holding. “I think we’re fine. After we take our measurements, we’re heading back to the lab right away.”

“Alright, well, if you do need something there’s, you know… plenty of guards in this place to ask.”

Gaster nodded in acknowledgement. The guard turned back to the entrance and left them to work. Once his footsteps faded away, Alphys looked up from her keyboard. “Huh, he sounded uncomfortable,” she observed.

“No kidding,” Gaster said. “Can’t blame him – the Barrier can do weird things to monsters.”

Alphys snapped her head up in alarm. “What?? L-like what?? Why didn’t you say anything to us??”

Gaster took his eyes off his hands to look over at her. “Did you not read the documents I gave you? Both of you?” During his informal research on the Barrier, he’d been giving anything particularly important to Sans and Alphys. He'd hoped that it would help them all be well-prepared for the excursion, but apparently all of that effort might have gone to waste. He glanced at Sans as well, giving him a questioning look.

“Eh, I read a couple of ‘em,” Sans said, unconcerned. “Don’t remember any warnings about the Barrier.”

“I skimmed most of them, but… i-it’s not anything bad, is it?” Alphys stammered.

“No, no, we’ll be fine,” Gaster reassured her. “It’s just that there’s a lot of powerful and concentrated magic here, and not everyone can handle it. A lot of monsters have reported feeling… uneasy around the Barrier.” He set down the instrument he’d been holding and started looking over another. “The other effects include things like headaches, anxiety, nausea… nothing serious or long-lasting.”

“Well, that’s good to know,” Sans said with mild interest. He’d conjured up a bone and was moving it around aimlessly with his magic.

“Hey, cut that out!” Gaster snatched it out of the air. “The Barrier is really sensitive to any contact with other magic – which you’d know if you’d read anything.” He dropped the bone to the ground, where it disintegrated on impact. “If we hit it with our magic, it’ll react and affect all our work. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not have to go back to the lab without any usable data.”

“Alright, alright, I gotcha,” Sans said. “Geez, you’re such a hardass sometimes.”

“Only when it really matters. What we’re doing today is important.”

Sans still seemed as aloof as ever. “Okay, so… what exactly is all this for? I know the data goes to the Royal Scientist and their team, but what do they do with it?”

Gaster thought back to all the material he’d read about the Barrier study. “I’m… not sure what exactly they look for. I just know the observations started decades ago with one of the previous Royal Scientists. Obviously, the hope is that we can use the information to somehow bring down the Barrier.”

“Why even bother? The easiest thing to do would be to just wait ‘til one more unlucky kid falls down here. Doesn’t take a bunch of engineers to realize that.”

Gaster wished the other skeleton would take this a little more seriously. “Because,” he began, “For one thing, the study began a long time ago when we had fewer human souls. For another, there’s no way to be sure when another human will even come down here. It’s already been… what, 40 or 50 years since the last one?” Gaster looked at the Barrier. “If the human kids living near Mt. Ebott have finally learned and started avoiding it, who knows how long we have to wait. We might as well be proactive about it.”

“Yeah, I guess. Still, there’s always gonna be kids who ignore warnings and do stupid things. Like climb up a cursed mountain.”

Sans wasn’t entirely wrong. Still, it sounded better to try and do something in the meantime rather than sit around waiting – hoping - for the next human to fall down. If scrutinizing the Barrier could lead to their freedom sooner, that’s what Gaster would do.

“Well, either way we still have to do what we were, ahem, ‘assigned,’” Alphys said, with a glance at Gaster. “Where should we start?”

“Probably should start with overall magic levels,” Sans suggested. “We can work on the more complex stuff later.”

Gaster nodded. “Sounds fine to me.” He looked over the open carrying cases, grabbing the correct instrument for reading magic levels. He turned it on and fiddled with some of the settings.

Alphys looked back to her laptop, while Gaster and Sans went over to their other equipment. Gaster immersed himself in his work, calibrating the instruments and discussing the setup with the other two monsters. It actually wasn’t very complicated, but he figured it was best to be extra meticulous considering who the data would be going to.

“HEY!” an unfamiliar voice suddenly shouted, catching him completely off-guard. Looking up, he saw a blue fish-monster standing in the doorway. She held a spear of cyan magic and gave them a piercing look. “What’re you three doing here??” she demanded, glowering at each of the three monsters.

None of them spoke.

She jabbed her spear in their direction threateningly. “Well? Is anyone gonna say something? Or do I have to force you to talk?”

“Wow, okay, take it easy!” Gaster held up his hands . “Why do you need to know? Who even are you?”

“I’m Undyne, and I’m part of the king’s Royal Guard.” Her eyes narrowed. “Now who the hell are you punks?”

“We’re scientists, we’re just here to research the Barrier,” Gaster explained. “All we’re doing is taking some measurements. The head guard even has an official letter that says what we’re doing, go ask him about it.”

“And leave you three all alone again? Yeah, right.” Undyne looked the three monsters up and down. “Why should I even believe you guys are scientists? You don’t have lab coats or anything.”

Sans cocked a brow. “We, uh, don’t really wear lab coats outside the lab. This is fieldwork.”

“Why should we believe you’re a guard? You definitely don’t look like one,” Gaster argued, pointing at her tank top and pants.

“Well, technically I’m off-duty today. But justice never rests! And I’m not gonna just stand by when something looks funny to me!” Undyne tightened the grip on her spear, making sparks of energy fly off. “I’m one of King Asgore’s students, so if you were supposed to be here, he would have told me about it.”

“M-maybe he just forgot to tell you?” Alphys offered. “I mean, he m-must be pretty busy-“

“Asgore wouldn’t forget to tell me anything!” Undyne snapped. “Now, you all need to come with me or else you’ll be in big trouble.”

Gaster frowned. He had a hard time believing this monster was a guard, let alone a student of Asgore’s. "Alright, this is ridiculous,” he said. “I’m going to go find a real guard to deal with you.” He was only able to take a few steps before several blue spears erupted in front of him. He stumbled backwards, nearly falling to the floor.

“I didn’t say you could move!” Undyne barked. “You aren’t going anywhere!”

Gaster’s soul pounded as he looked up from the spears that had almost impaled him. “Can you stop with the arrows already??” he asked indignantly.

“Not until you start listening to me!”

Gaster’s patience was wearing thin. “You aren’t listening to us! I’m trying to tell you what we’re doing here! We’re not up to anything!”

“I’m not taking that chance!” Undyne hurled her spear at the other three monsters. They ducked, letting the attack sail right over their heads. Instead, it collided with the Barrier at the back of the cavern. Waves of cyan magic rippled through it as it absorbed the spear’s energy.

Gaster, Alphys and Sans could only stare helplessly. They hadn’t even gotten a single measurement, and now anything they did take would be unusable. The fish-monster had ruined their entire trip.

“Consider that a warning shot,” she said. “I don’t usually give those, so be thankful for that.”

Gaster turned back to the fish-monster, pointing at the Barrier. “Thankful? Do you have any idea what you just did?! Your magic affected the whole Barrier! Now we can’t even do what we came here for!”

“Then I’ve done my job. Now, if you still don’t come with me, I’ll-“

There was a loud ‘PING!’. Undyne’s soul lit up with blue light, and she was jerked a few feet in the air. She flailed her limbs as her remaining arrows dissipated. Below her, Sans kept firm control over her soul through her struggling.

“HEY! WHAT THE HELL??” she snarled down at him.

“Hey, don’t take it personally. I think your desire to protect the kingdom is uplifting, but you’re being kind of a problem right now.” He turned to Alphys. “I can hold her while you and G go find an actual guard to help us with this.” The fish-monster kept thrashing and twisting her body, trying in vain to break free of the blue magic. “… Just, uh, try to be quick about it.”

Alphys scurried to Gaster's side and they began hurrying towards the exit. She looked up at him once they were out of earshot. “A-are you okay??” she fretted. “You could’ve been killed!”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he told her. He was still rattled, but at least he was in one piece. “We really need to find someone before-“

They heard a loud bellow behind them. Gaster looked back right as Undyne threw a spear down at Sans. Startled, he jumped sideways out of its direct path, but it still managed to graze his arm. He yelled out in pain, and Undyne fell to the ground as he lost his hold on her soul.

“SANS!” Gaster and Alphys both exclaimed, running back over to his side. Undyne took the opportunity to scramble back to her feet as they tended to their friend.

“Maybe now you’ll follow my orders,” she growled, conjuring up another spear. “I’m not in the mood for games.”

Gaster bristled, whipping around to face her. “What the fuck is your problem?!” he shouted, gesturing at the other skeleton. “Sans wasn’t even attacking you! You had no reason to do that!”

Undyne clutched her spear with both hands, adopting a battle stance. “Threatening a guard is a serious offense!” she retorted. “And using soul magic counts! You’re all gonna be in deep shit when I’m done with you!”

As they both glared at each other, something inside Gaster finally snapped. He’d had more than enough of this monster, and he wasn’t going to keep waiting around for someone else to come and help. “Alright, that is it.” He stepped towards her. “You threatened us, you ruined our work, and now you’re attacking us! I am done with you!”

Before Undyne could make another move, he gathered up his own magic and started summoning an attack. Two large, beastly skulls quickly materialized on either side of him. They didn’t look like the skull of any existing creature - their bottom jaws were split down the middle and filled with long teeth, and they were adorned with small spikes. White rings of light glowed from their orbits, eyeing their target. Undyne gaped in disbelief.

Gaster stared her down, eye sockets completely black. “Now,” he said icily. “Are you going to cut it out, or do you want to try attacking us again? Because if you do…”

The skulls opened their jaws, magic gathering in their mouths.

“…You are REALLY not going to like what happens next.”

Undyne didn't say anything. She obviously had fighting experience, but by the look on her face, she’d never encountered magic like this. Gaster hoped it would be intimidating enough to make her stop assailing them.

After a moment, she snapped out of her stupor, her face hardening with resolve. “I am not backing down,” she said, looking Gaster in the eye. “I’m staying right here.”

He hadn’t been expecting that response. He’d been certain she would give up or run - everyone else did when they first saw his Blasters. It hadn’t even crossed his mind to make a Plan B.

Shit. Shit shit shit, this was a stupid idea! What had he been thinking? What was he supposed to do now?? He felt his control on the Blasters slipping, riling them up even more. He refocused, reining them back in before they could fire at the fish-monster. Somehow, he managed to keep his outward expression from reflecting his inner state. The best he could do was stall until he either thought of something else or someone finally showed up. “…Well, I’m not backing down either,” he finally said. “Not until you agree to quit it.”

“Well, there’s no way in hell I’m doing that!”

“Then I guess we’ve reached a stalemate.”

There was a pause. Gaster wondered if she was reconsidering what she was doing. Suddenly, Undyne jumped aside in an attempt to surprise him. Just as quickly, one of the magical skulls fired off a small blast of magic that hit a couple feet in front of her. Not close or powerful enough to hurt her, but enough to stop her in her tracks.

She glared again at the skeleton, and he returned the look. “Consider that a warning shot,” he said. She growled in frustration.

Gaster wasn’t entirely sure how much of that last shot was him and how much was the Blaster’s doing. His panic grew. What was he supposed to do if she did that again? He didn’t actually want to hurt her. He didn’t want any of this. He prayed that things wouldn’t escalate further.

They continued their staredown. Nobody moved or said a word. Gaster occasionally heard shuffling noises from the two monsters behind him, but it was otherwise quiet. After a few long minutes, Gaster broke the silence. “Alphys, how’s Sans doing?” he asked, without turning back to look at her. He didn’t dare take his eyes off of Undyne.

“Uh, he’s… alright, I think. I-it’s not too bad,” the lizard monster replied.

“’M okay,” Sans groaned unconvincingly.

“See? Your friend is fine,” Undyne said. “So how about you put your freaky skull things away and-“

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” The blasters opened their jaws a bit more. His desire to protect his friends outweighed his reluctance to use his attack. He wasn’t going to give her any leeway.

She scowled, tightening the grip on her spear. “You can’t keep this up forever. You’ll exhaust your magic sooner or later.”

“I don’t need to last forever - I just need to outlast you. Unless you just want to give up right now?” Gaster knew there was no way he had more stamina than her, but she didn’t know that. As long as he acted confident, she might actually believe him.

She didn’t seem to be fazed. “No way am I going to submit to some punk bag of bones like you. I’m not afraid of you or your weird attack!” One of the Blasters snapped at her; Undyne instinctively took half a step back.

“If you say so,” Gaster replied, shrugging. He couldn’t help but smirk a little.

Undyne glared harder at him. “God, you are such an asshole.”

He scoffed. “I’m an asshole? You attacked us first! You’re the one who’s playing vigilante here!”

“I’m not a vigilante! I told you I’m a Royal Guard!”

“A real Royal Guard would be protecting citizens, not terrorizing them!”

“Terrorizing??” Undyne snarled. “You have a LOT of nerve accusing me-“

“What on Earth is going on over here?” a low voice interrupted from the hallway. Gaster watched as King Asgore himself stepped into the room, ducking his head to avoid hitting the top of the door. His eyes widened when he saw the scene before him. “Oh, my.”

“Y-your majesty!” Gaster stammered, his concentration breaking. The Blasters grumbled a little before dissipating in a cloud of purple magic. The skeleton had never felt more relieved. “Thank god you’re here!” He pointed at Undyne. “I don’t know who this thug thinks she is, but-“

“These three punks are here without permission!” Undyne interjected. “The short guy used magic on me, and then beanpole here threatened me with his crazy skull creatures-“

“You attacked us! You hit Sans with your spear!”

“You guys weren’t LISTENING to me-“

“Alright, alright, everyone settle down!” Asgore held up a large hand to silence both of them. He walked over to Undyne. “Is this why I didn’t find you in the garden for your training session?”

Gaster froze. Training session?

“Well, yeah!” she replied. “I had to keep an eye on them! I didn’t know whether they were supposed to be here or not!”

Gaster’s relief at the king’s arrival quickly turned to dread. Undyne really was one of Asgore's students. If that was the case, there was no way he’d be getting out of this situation unscathed.

Asgore looked over at the three scientists. “And what are you doing here, exactly?”

Gaster started as the king addressed them. “Oh, uh, we were just… collecting data on the Barrier - I mean, at least we were going to. But then this fish-monster came in and interrupted us.”

“Oh, yes. You must be the ones from the Barrier study.”

“Wait, what??” Undyne asked incredulously. “You knew they were coming? Why didn’t I hear about this??”

“I must have forgotten to mention it,” Asgore said. “…Even so, you are not on duty today. All you came here for was to meet with me, not take care of suspected criminals. You should have brought it up to another guard, at the very least.” He glanced back at the doorway. “And I would have expected you to stay within the throne room while these three were working.”

Undyne opened her mouth to protest, but closed it again without a word. Asgore turned back to the scientists. “Now, what happened that led to the, ah… confrontation that I saw?” he asked, looking at Gaster again.

“Uh…” He grew cold. How could he ever explain pulling his attack out on one of the king’s students? “I… uh, I-I mean, we - we were just… Undyne was going to - I mean, I-I would never actually-“

“Gaster only used his attack after she hit me,” Sans interjected.

Both monsters looked over at the skeleton. “We were just setting up when she kinda… barged in here and demanded we come with her. We all tried to explain ourselves but she wouldn’t listen, and she started throwin’ spears at us.” He glanced over at Undyne, who only glared back. “I tried to restrain her with my magic first, but then she got me with one of her spears. G used his magic before she could attack us again.” Alphys stayed quiet, but backed Sans up with a lot of nodding, avoiding looking directly at Asgore.

“Hey, you left out the part where your friend fired at me,” Undyne contended.

Gaster faltered. “W-well, yeah - but I missed you by like, two feet!” he countered. “You gave us a warning shot first, so I figured I’d return the favor.”

Asgore gave him a questioning look. “You fired your attack at her?”

“I… did… but that was after she tried to attack us first, and after she hurt Sans. I didn’t actually want to hurt her, but I – I didn’t know how else to get her to stop,” he answered. It was a terrible explanation, he realized. He was doomed.

“I see,” Asgore said. “You are aware that attacking a Royal Guard is punishable by law, aren’t you?”

“Of course, but…”

Once again, Sans jumped in. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, Gaster – all of us – were just trying to defend ourselves. We had no idea if she was actually a guard or just some random monster that was trying to kill us.”

Asgore’s expression became thoughtful. “Hmm… that is a fair point.” He turned to Undyne. “Did you show these three any proof you were a Royal Guard? Your badge, perhaps?”

Undyne looked away. “Well, no. I don’t have it with me.”

“Did you ask anyone else about them before you came in here?”

“Uhhhhh… no. I thought I could deal with them by myself.” Her ear-fins drooped slightly.

Asgore sighed. “Undyne, please wait for me out in the gold hall. We’ll talk more when I’m done here.”

“Yes, Asgore.” She shuffled out of the room.

Asgore watched until she was gone before turning back to the three monsters before him. He’d barely opened his mouth before Gaster decided to speak first.

“King Asgore, before you decide anything, I just want to remind you that these two didn’t do anything,” he sputtered, gesturing at his companions. “I was the one who escalated things!”

“What? No, you weren’t,” Sans interrupted. “She attacked us first, G, don’t take the fall for this.”

“I fired at her! A Royal Guard!”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Asgore said. “Let’s all calm back down.”

Gaster couldn’t relax very much, but fell quiet. He noticed Sans grimace a bit, adjusting his grip on his arm. Alphys took a step towards him. “Sans? A-are you okay?”

Sans hesitated. “Yeah, I’m alright. Just hurts a little.” Gaster couldn’t help but roll his eyes; Sans could be bleeding out on the floor and he would still insist he was fine.

Asgore looked at Sans with concern. “I suppose we should do something about your arm. I can heal it, if you’d like me to.”

“… Really?”

“Of course,” he said. “You did get injured by one of my students, after all. I think I should take partial responsibility.”

Sans looked down at his arm uncertainly. “Well, sure, if you really wanna.” He walked up to the king, carefully taking his hand off the wound. The boss monster held a large paw over it, glowing softly with green magic. After a few seconds, Sans was fully healed.

Asgore took a step back. “Is that better?”

Sans relaxed. “Yeah, a lot better. Thanks.” He rubbed the place where the injury used to be. “You, uh, really didn’t have to do that, you know.”

“Oh, it’s hardly any trouble.” Asgore was quiet for a moment, scratching his beard thoughtfully. “You know, I should’ve remembered to tell Undyne about you all coming. She may be a guard, and has lots of potential, but she’s still fairly new. She also tends to be … rash in situations like this. I can’t blame you too much for trying to defend yourselves. How about we just put this all behind us and move on?”

Gaster stared at the boss monster. “But…Undyne is a guard. And one of your students! I almost hurt her! Aren’t you mad about that?”

Asgore chuckled a little. “I certainly could be. But believe me, it would take more than one attack to take Undyne down. You didn’t even want to hurt her in the first place, right?”

Gaster could hardly process what was happening. The king was completely serious. “In any case,” the boss monster continued. “I hope she didn’t derail your work too much.”

“Well…” Gaster rubbed the back of his neck. “Actually, Undyne kind of wrecked everything. We were supposed to observe the Barrier under normal circumstances, but one of her spears ended up hitting it. It’s really sensitive to contact with magic, so… now it’s not normal. We’d have to wait until it goes back to its regular state.”

“Oh.” Asgore furrowed his brow. “And how long will that take?”

Gaster could only shrug. “A few days, at least – probably longer. It depends on how powerful her magic was.” More potent magic was known to affect the Barrier for weeks. Undyne’s spears didn’t look like a particularly strong attack individually, but there was no way of knowing exactly how powerful it was. An uncontrolled variable like that would make things much more complicated if they tried to take any measurements now.

The king sighed. “Undyne…” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. The fish-monster was definitely giving him a run for his money. “There isn’t anything you’d be able to do here?”

“’Fraid not,” Sans said. “Everything we were going to do involved the Barrier.”

“I see.” Asgore looked over at the magical construct that trapped his people underground. “I’m really sorry about this whole mess; I should have remembered to tell Undyne.” He turned back to the scientists. “So, what are you going to do now?”

Gaster shrugged again. “Well, I guess we go back to the lab and tell them that the Barrier got disrupted before we could do anything. Someone else will have to come back here later to get measurements.”

“In that case, I can have a message sent to your lab explaining what happened, if that would help. I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble for something that wasn’t your fault.”

The skeleton blinked. He looked at Sans and Alphys, who looked as surprised as he was. He hadn’t expected Asgore to let any of them off the hook, let alone get involved with their employers. “Uh, yeah, s-sure… if you really want to.”

“Well, of course. It’s the least I can do to make up for all this. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Gaster felt guilty about how much the king was doing for them already. “No, I don’t think so,” he said. “You’ve helped a lot already.”

“Then I suppose I shouldn’t keep you any longer. I’ll leave you to pack up all your things. You all take care, now. And you two…” He looked at the skeletons. “Just be careful with your magic.”

Sans shrugged. “Personally, I don’t think you have much to worry about. But yeah, we can do that.”

Satisfied, Asgore finally left the room. After a moment of shocked silence, Alphys laughed nervously. “Well, that was… something.”

“It really was,” Gaster agreed distantly, not taking his eyes off the exit.

Sans looked at him suspiciously. “You don’t feel guilty about any of this, do you? ‘Cause you really don’t need to.”

“I… I don’t know. Maybe?” Gaster started walking back over to their equipment. “I don’t get why Asgore would do anything for us after all this.”

“I think he’s just l-like that,” Alphys said. “He likes helping where he can.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Gaster agreed. “I guess I also feel… embarrassed, or something?” He sighed. “I should’ve controlled my emotions better. I really don’t like anyone to see that side of me.”

“Well, that side of you saved our butts today, so I’m not complainin’,” Sans said as he followed the other skeleton.

“Hey, you argued us out of getting in trouble.I would’ve been done for if you hadn’t come along.”

“Well, you also tried to take the blame for everything,” Alphys chimed in. “Which was really dumb, by the way.”

“I didn’t want anything to happen to you guys! We’re only here today because of me.”

“G.” Sans adopted a more serious tone. “Literally no one could have guessed this would happen. None of this was your fault.”

“Don’t forget that Sans used his magic, too,” Alphys pointed out. “And, uh, maybe the two of us could have done more to de-escalate things… or something.”

Sans nodded. “Either way, Undyne was the one who started it all. As far as I’m concerned, she can take most of the blame.” He put the last item into his case and closed it. “Look, let’s just get back to the lab, deal with not having any data, and forget about this whole day.”

“I’m good with that,” Alphys said.

“Fine with me.” Gaster was more than happy to leave and never have to deal with the Barrier – or Undyne – ever again.

***

None of them spoke as they left the Barrier room. Whether they got in trouble over it or not, they weren’t excited to have to go back to work with nothing, and the impending disappointment hung over them like a storm cloud. They proceeded down the hallway to the throne room, the light gradually getting stronger. The throne room greeted them with its full brightness and garden, but they didn’t stay around to appreciate their surroundings.

At this point the silence had become unbearable. “What do you think will happen to Undyne?” Alphys finally asked, stopping before they entered the next hall.

“Who knows,” Gaster said. “Asgore said she still had things to work on. If that’s true, then maybe she shouldn’t even be a guard.”

“I-I don’t know… maybe she should get a second chance. Like Asgore said, she just n-needs to work on a few things,” Alphys said.

Both Gaster and Sans stopped and looked back at her. She looked away quickly. “I-I mean, what happened wasn’t okay, but, uh, she… she has all the good qualities of a guard, too!”

Sans cocked a brow. “Alphys, she hit me. That’s kind of a big deal.”

“N-no, that wasn’t good, b-but I just…” She trailed off, blushing.

For a moment, the skeletons stared at her. Then Sans began to snicker. “Alphys, do you like her or something?” he asked.

“W-w-what?? No! Don’t be ridiculous! That’s- you don’t-“ Alphys stumbled over her words again, stepping back. “W-we don’t even know her!”

“Dang, Alphys, falling for Asgore and his apprentice. What, does she remind you of an anime warrior princess?”

“Shut up!” Alphys hissed, face reddening even more.

Gaster rolled his eyes. “Knock it off, Sans. I don’t think we’re really in the mood for this.”

The other skeleton chuckled. “Sorry, Al. It’s just… she doesn’t seem like the type you’d be into. But hey, I won’t judge.”

Alphys grumbled. “Can we just forget about it? I doubt they’d ever send us back here, s-so… it’s not like I’ll ever see her again.”

“And I, for one, am grateful for that,” Gaster muttered. The mere thought of ever having to deal with Undyne again aggravated him. They left the throne room and garden behind, stepping into the so-called Golden Hallway. Several smaller hallways branched off of it on one side. Gaster scanned the wall opposite the windows, trying to remember which passage they’d come from. His eyes drifted up to the mural painted on the wall above the pillars. He hadn’t gotten a good look on the way to the Barrier, but now he noticed some of the more grisly scenes. Among the depictions of the monsters’ achievements and portraits of notable individuals, there were many images of the war with the humans long ago – some of which were surprisingly graphic. It was a jarring contrast to the serenity of the rest of the hall.

“Um… I think we c-came from the fourth one down,” Alphys said, averting her gaze. “The one under the part of the mural with… a bunch of humans stabbing a monster.”

“Pretty gross, huh?” another voice said.

Gaster snapped his head in the direction the voice had come from. Undyne emerged from behind one of the pillars of the hall, flashing a toothy grin at the small group.

Apparently the universe just hated the skeleton today. “Shouldn’t you be with Asgore by now?” he asked her flatly.

Undyne leaned against the pillar, crossing her arms. “Normally, yeah. He said he had to send something to your bosses or whatever first and told me to keep waiting here.” She looked at the three of them in turn. “So, you guys are leaving?”

“Well, yeah,” Sans replied. “We can’t really do anything with the Barrier right now.”

Undyne grumbled in annoyance. “Look, I’m sorry, I know I fucked up. But can you really blame me for assuming you were up to something when no one ever told me about you guys?” She looked directly at Gaster. “And it’s not like you’re entirely blameless, either.”

Any lingering guilt he had been feeling instantly evaporated. “Hey, you started it!” he contended. “We tried to reason with you, and you started throwing magic attacks at us. Did you expect us to just take it?” Undyne didn’t respond, so he went on. “Clearly, you don’t have the right temperament for a Royal Guard. I’d be surprised if Asgore didn’t fire you over this.”

The fish monster snorted. “Fire me? As if. I’ve known Asgore since I was a kid. It’ll take more than one little misunderstanding to get me kicked out of the Guard.”

“Little?” Gaster echoed. “You hit Sans, you ruined our observations, everyone at work will be pissed at us because we have no data… ‘little’ is an understatement!”

“Okay, fine, it wasn’t just a little misunderstanding. I said I was sorry, what more do you want from me?”

“You could leave us alone, for starters. The king can take care of the rest.”

Gaster felt a nudge and noticed Sans was now standing next to him. “G, come on, let’s just go. It’s not worth dealing with her.”

Gaster gave Undyne one last look before taking a deep breath. “Yeah, you’re right.” He turned back to the passage that they’d been heading to. “Well, if you’re done with your half-assed apology, we’ll be going on our way.”

“Woah, hey, not so fast!” Undyne rushed forward, stopping right in front of him. “Okay, look, we got off on the wrong foot there. I was actually thinking maybe we could… talk a little?”

Gaster glared down at her. “Forget it. I think you’ve interacted with us enough for-“

“I don’t wanna talk with all you punks,” Undyne interrupted. “Just you, tall guy.”

He raised a brow. “You can’t be serious.”

“Look, just hear me out,” said the fish-monster. “If you don’t like what I say, then you and your pals can leave and I’ll never bother you again, I swear.”

Gaster peered back at the other two monsters. Sans shrugged hesitantly and Alphys looked away, but neither objected to letting him and Undyne talk. The skeleton turned back to her. “Fine. Tell me what you want to – but make it quick.” He set down his case of equipment and folded his arms.

Undyne grinned in satisfaction. Gaster was unsettled; less than an hour ago she'd been ready to kill them all, but now she was eager to make small talk with him. He was starting to question her sanity.

“Okay, so… you’ve got a pretty powerful special attack, huh?”

Gaster blinked. Of all the topics she might have wanted to discuss, he hadn’t expected her to ask about his magic. “I... suppose?” he answered.

“How powerful are those skull things, exactly?”

Gaster already didn’t like where this conversation was going. “I don’t really know, honestly. I’ve never tested them or anything. All I know is that whatever I’ve used them on has gotten really damaged or destroyed.”

Undyne nodded. “Interesting. And what kind of things have you used them on?”

The skeleton tried to remember everything he’d fired his Blasters at. “Things at the dump, boulders, tree stumps… textbooks that your college won’t buy back… that kind of stuff. Nothing important.”

“But have you like, used them on another monster? I know you gave me a warning shot back there, but-”

“What? No, of course not! I wouldn’t want to actually hurt someone with them! Did you not hear me say that to the king?”

“Hey, chill, it was just a question.”

Gaster narrowed his eyes. Was she really interested in his magic, or was she just trying to get a rise out of him? “What exactly are you getting at? I told you to make this quick, so cut to the chase already.”

Undyne grumbled. “Alright, fine.” She paused to think about what to say next. “Uh, okay, I bet this’ll sound crazy, but… have you ever thought about joining the Royal Guard?”

He stiffened. “Joining the Royal Guard?"

“Well, yeah, why not?” Undyne gave him another toothy smile. “You’ve got a hell of an attack, and I’m sure you’re a little tougher than you look. Plus, it looks like you’ve seen your fair share of scuffles, right?”

Gaster looked away sheepishly. Everyone seemed to be interested in the fractures today. “Uh, not exactly. The cracks are just from a stupid accident.”

“Oh,” Undyne said, slightly less enthusiastic. “Well still, you haven’t ever thought about becoming a Royal Guard?”

“Not really, no.”

“Come on, I’m sure you’d be fine! You might even be really good at it.”

“No.” Gaster tried stepping around her, but she blocked him.

“Can’t you at least think it over for a bit?”

He scowled. “What part of ‘no’ don’t you understand? I’m not joining the Royal Guard.”

“Why the hell not?” Undyne demanded. “You want to waste all that potential just to do a bunch of nerd stuff? You’d be a huge asset against a human! Don’t you care about the rest of monsterkind??”

“Of course I do! But I don’t want to do this!” Gaster shot back, gesturing at the violent art above them. “Didn’t you say you would leave me alone if I didn’t like what you said? Because I really don’t.”

“Well, I didn’t actually expect you to refuse an invitation to the Royal Guard,” Undyne spat. “It’s not just about you, this involves every monster that’s trapped down here. Think about everyone else!”

“What I do with my life is none of your business! I worked hard to get where I am, and I’m not throwing it all away to work with some brute like you.” He tried to step around the fish monster a second time, but she blocked his path again.

“If you would just listen-“

“No, I’m done listening to you! So back off!” The skeleton finally managed to outmaneuver Undyne, storming off in the direction he and his companions had been headed. Sans and Alphys followed after him, leaving Undyne behind in the hall.

***

In the castle’s gray passages, Gaster stewed in his own thoughts. He should’ve known better than to let Undyne talk to him after seeing his attack. Of course the only thing she cared about was how strong his magic was. Of course she didn’t care what he’d already chosen to do with his life. Of course she would try to get him to join the Royal Guard. And of course she’d say he was selfish when he refused.

He’d heard it all before. Several times.

“G, wait up!” Sans called from behind him, pulling him out of his thoughts. Gaster slowed down. Part of him wanted to stay far ahead of them to process his emotions alone, but leaving Sans and Alphys behind would make it harder for any of them to find their way back. He decided to stop, but barely acknowledged his friends once they reached him.

Alphys looked up at the skeleton. “Gaster, um… a-are you okay?” she asked.

Gaster huffed. “No, not really.” He started walking again.

“Geez, she sure pissed you off back there,” Sans remarked.

“It isn’t just her. It’s…” Gaster hesitated. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

“Sure doesn’t seem like it.”

“It’s lame, old family drama. I’m sure you don’t want to hear about it.” Usually he’d tell his friends at least a little about something that was bothering him, but talking about his family was particularly uncomfortable. As far as he remembered, he’d never talked to Sans or Alphys about them.

“Family drama?” Sans repeated. “Like, your mom and sister?”

“Oh, god, no. It’s on my dad’s side of the family.”

Alphys’s eyes widened. “Your dad’s side? I’ve never heard you mention anyone else in your family.”

“Yeah. It’s not exactly my favorite subject,” Gaster admitted. “I probably shouldn’t be letting it get to me this much.” He hadn’t even seen his relatives in a long time. Surely nothing they’d ever said should still bother him at this point in his life.

Alphys looked up at him with concern. “Would, um, talking more about it help?”

He slowed down a little. “I’m not sure. I’ve never told you guys anything about this, so...”

“I-I mean, you don’t have to,” Alphys added. “But we’d both listen. Right, Sans?”

“Sure,” he replied. “Listening is pretty easy.”

Gaster mulled it over. “… Alright, I could tell you a little bit. Just don’t judge me or anything, okay?”

“What, didja murder someone?” Sans quipped. “Cuz I might have some problems with that.”

Gaster laughed a little, despite himself. “No, it’s not quite that bad.” He walked over to a nearby wall and leaned back against it. “Well, to make a long story short, when I was growing up I had a lot of family members telling me to join the Royal Guard because of my special attack. No matter how many times I said no, someone would always bring it back up. It was a big deal for most of them.”

“Why’s that?” Sans set his case down on its edge and sat on it, careful not to tip it over.

“That would be the long version,” Gaster replied. “There’s a lot to it.”

“Like…?” Alphys prompted.

Did they really want to know more? Gaster worried about what they might think if he gave them all the details. Then again, these two were far different from anyone in his family. It wasn't likely that his friends would have the same mindset as they did.

He took a deep breath before starting. “For starters, having Blasters is something that runs in my dad’s side of the family. They’ve always been a source of family pride. It’s pretty rare, but once in a while someone ends up with them.”

“When I was little I would hear stories from my relatives about monsters who had the Gaster Blasters. Almost everyone who got them ended up in the Royal Guard or something similar. Back then, I loved hearing about them, and before my magic developed I wanted so badly to end up with the Blasters, too. When I passed the age most monster kids started using magic and still wasn’t able to do anything, I wanted them even more.”

“And then finally-“- Gaster threw his hands in the air - “The day came when I could use magic, and the first thing I conjure up is a pair of Blasters. Both my dad and I were pretty excited about it, but right after I told him, he sat me down and gave me a serious talk about how dangerous they could be. He told me that I had to be careful with them so I wouldn’t accidentally hurt someone. They have a mind of their own sometimes, so if you don’t know how to control them…”

He decided not to finish that thought. “And that’s when I realized what having the Blasters really meant. They weren’t just a cool magic attack anymore. They were weapons.” Gaster shifted uncomfortably. “The thought of actually having to hurt or even kill someone made me feel sick. If I went into anything like law enforcement or the Royal Guard, I knew I’d probably have to do that at some point, and that really upset me. One day I finally asked my dad if I would have to be in the Guard someday just because of my magic, and he said it was up to me. I could do whatever I wanted to, whether it involved the Blasters or not. And I was pretty happy with that.”

“But the rest of the family wasn’t too thrilled that I didn’t want to be a guard. They tried to bring it up all the time, but Dad would just shoot them down. I didn’t have to hear much about it for a long time.” Gaster sighed. “But after he died, pretty much all courtesy on the subject got thrown out the window. My mom and sister were still supportive of me, of course, but my relatives weren’t afraid to share their thoughts.”

His voice grew bitter. “Every time we had a gathering with them, at least one person would mention it. ‘Hey W.D., have you thought any more about enlisting into the King’s forces?’ ‘Come on, you’d do great in the Royal Guard!’ ‘How could you just waste a gift like that? Stop being selfish and think about the rest of monsterkind!’” He shook his head. “When I decided I wanted to go into the sciences, they became even more determined to change my mind. But I managed to hold my ground. After my dad first talked to me about the Blasters, I promised myself that I’d never use my attack on anybody – and I wanted to keep it that way.”

“But… what about today?” Alphys asked cautiously.

“Pfft, threatening someone with the Blasters is different than actually using them. I’ve summoned them a few times when going through the sketchy parts of the city and such. Just seeing them is enough to scare any troublemakers off.” For a second, he actually did feel proud to have them. “I was sure Undyne would do the same. Then when she didn’t, I kind of… panicked. It had never even crossed my mind to make a backup plan.” He looked away, embarrassed. He should have known better than to assume that someone who’d had fighting experience would turn tail and run.

“Look, the Blasters are a strong attack even without training. I don’t know how much damage mine could do to someone in one blast, but I know they have the potential to dust all kinds of monsters in one shot.” He looked at the floor. “If I wanted to, I could kill almost any monster in the Underground. Maybe even a human, if I really dedicated myself. It’s… kind of horrifying, honestly. I don’t like to think about it.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the three of them. Gaster wondered if he’d given them too much information at once - or worse, that they felt the same way his relatives did.

Sans finally spoke up. “Geez, that’s some heavy stuff. I can see why Undyne aggravated you so much.”

Gaster released some of the tension he hadn’t even realized he was holding. “Yeah, everything she said was what everyone else told me about a hundred times. It brought up a lot of bad memories.”

“I bet,” Alphys said. “They all sound like a bunch of… well, jerks.”

“Well, some of them weren’t that bad about it.” Gaster shrugged. “But I hardly see them anymore, so if anyone still has a problem with it, at least I don’t have to hear their whining.”

He realized he did feel a little better now that he’d talked about his thoughts. It was even more reassuring knowing his friends were on his side. With a stretch, he stepped away from the wall. “Welp, I hope you guys enjoyed my tragic backstory.”

Alphys snorted. “Oh yeah, I loved it. Now we all know about each other’s tortured pasts, right?”

“Hey, we’re all still young. There’s still plenty of time for tragedy,” Sans said as he got up from his makeshift seat.

Gaster chuckled. “Wow, okay. That’s pretty dark.”

“What, I’m not allowed to do dark humor?”

“No, it’s just… weird, coming from you.”

“Hey, I’m more than just puns, you know.”

“Ah, of course. I just forgot in the deluge of wordplay you flood me and Alphys with every day.”

Somewhere in the city, a clock started chiming the hour. Alphys looked at her phone to confirm the time. “Oh geez, have we been standing here long? We need to get going again!”

“Alph, it’s only been like, 5 minutes.” Sans patted her shoulder. “We’re fine.”

“We should get moving again, though,” Gaster said. “If we take too long, someone might suspect we’re avoiding work altogether.” He grabbed the case sitting beside him.

They finally resumed walking, managing to remember the way they came in among the numerous passages of the castle. As they traveled, Sans slid over next to Alphys. “So,” he began. “About that fish-girl we just met – I bet you think she’d be a reel catch, huh?”

Alphys blushed. “Sans, I swear to god-“

“Hey, no need to be bassful about your new crush. Or are you still more interested in Asgore?”

Alphys got even redder, but the skeleton didn’t relent. “I think you have a chance with him, too. But first you goat to get his attention, be-fur someone else does.”

“Ugghhh!” Alphys shoved him away, making him snicker. “Gaster, can you get him to stop??”

Gaster smirked. “No, you kids need to settle this by yourselves.”

“Not you, too!”

He looked back at her quizzically. “What do you mean? I didn’t- ...oh, god.” He smacked his forehead. Kids. “Sans, stop corrupting me.”

“Whale, if you don’t like goat puns, I can go back to fish.” Sans caught up to Gaster. “My goat puns are kind of crappie anyways. So hey, any ideas on how Alphys can fin over Asgore or fish-girl? It’s fine if you need to mullet over for a bit. Personally, I think she should be honest about her eelings, but I trout she’d want to be that up front about it-“

“Sans,” Gaster said.

“Yeah?”

“Will you please shut up?”

#undertale #Sans #Gaster #Alphys #Undyne #inb4 several 'okay but in the game it says THIS' asks #I (probably) know and have an answer :v

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plumeriafairy14 · 7 years

Text

One-Shot: “Faithful”

Whenever Lance fought with his boyfriend, Lotor, he would storm off and drive several miles south to visit his ex.

Inspired by an anonymous confession in my college's anonymous confession FB page.

A gift fic to buttplug of marmora (@taosalikod122) from Twitter

Pairings: Lancelot, Shance, a little Hunay

TW: Main character death, alcohol, toxic relationship

Fairy’s other Voltron drabbles: Pieces of the Sky

The peaceful concerto of birds was violently interrupted by the sound of dishes shattering on the floor. It was not the best way to begin the day but it was how Lance’s mornings had been starting the past year and a half.

“I keep telling you that there isn’t anyone!” Lotor yelled from across the room at Lance who stood his ground on the opposite side, his fists clenched and his breathing erratic. “I’m not cheating on you!”

“That was not your cologne, Lotor!” the other spat out in retaliation and he chucked his boyfriend’s dress shirt back at him. “And guess what? It wasn’t the one I gave you last Christmas either!”

“I bought some new cologne, so what?” Frustrated, Lotor raked his long fingers through his long platinum blonde hair that appeared almost white underneath the morning sun that flooded from the living room window.

“Did you buy new underwear too, huh?” Lance challenged and he took a bold step towards Lotor who, this time, gritted his teeth in anger. Tears streaked Lance’s face and his eyes were red and puffy from the lack of sleep he had last night. “Because the one I found in your travel bag sure wasn’t your fucking size nor do you have that brand!”

“Lance, it’s not---!”

“What’s that supposed to be? A sick souvenir of your escapades?!” Lance demanded and his voice cracked now. “You’re merrily fucking around while I sit here like an idiot duck waiting for you to come home?” Lance shook his head. “I don’t need to see your inbox, I know. Look me in the goddamn eyes and fucking tell me that I’m the only one.”

Lotor stood there, fuming, but he kept his mouth shut.

“I knew it.” Lance’s voice fell into a broken whisper. “I fucking knew it.” He paused and took a quivering breath; Lance had prepared for this and for the record, it didn’t really matter anymore and it’s been that way since the signs started popping up.

“I’ll come back for my stuff later.” Lance turned around and pushed past Lotor as he headed to the living room. “Don’t wait up for me.”

“Lance, hold on!” Lotor pleaded and Lance rolled his eyes while he grabbed his keys from the ashtray beside the couch. Without looking back, Lance stormed out of the house and got into his car. When Lotor rushed out of the house and strode to his vehicle to knock on the driver’s window, Lance flipped him the middle finger then pulled out of the driveway. He didn’t even bother glancing at the rearview mirror at his dickbag of a boyfriend.

Lance swallowed the lump in his throat, ignored the vile in his mouth, blinked past the tears, and he just…drove.

The joke was actually on Lotor because whenever they fought to the point of toxic insanity, Lance always walked out to prevent the situation from getting worse and he would drive miles two cities south to see his ex-boyfriend.

But this time, Lance decided that what transpired will be the last fight he will ever have with Lotor. He couldn’t take it anymore and Lance knew that he deserved better because his ex didn’t love him unconditionally just so some shitfaced asshole can ruin him.

Unfortunately, he and Shiro never worked out but Lance still came to see him as much as he could.

Not being able to take the deafening silence of the car, Lance turned the radio on and the station was playing Katy Perry’s song, Thinking of You. Lance laughed bitterly; it fit his fucking situation so well but he didn’t say anything besides that.

Two hours of non-stop driving in the freeway, Lance took an exit to the city where Shiro was and just like always when Lance visited him, he brought flowers and a cold six pack from the local 7/11 for them to share. So Lance went to the first flower shop he found, got a small bouquet then found a store, brought the beer and in a heartbeat, he was on the road again.

When Lance arrived to his destination, he took the flowers and the beer and got out of the car. His sneakers crushed the freshly fallen autumn leaves that carpeted the ground as Lance made his way through a cobblestone path before he stepped off and walked on the spacious manicured field of Bermuda grass.

And just as always, Shiro was there, waiting for him.

“Hey, baby.” Lance smiled, his tears having dried already hours ago. “How are you?”

The black marble headstone did not give an answer but the cool breeze that blew made it clear that his greeting did not go unheard. Lance approached the grave and sat on the grass.

“Here, these are for you!” Lance said cheerfully while he laid the flowers on the base of the marble. Taking his time, he traced the tips of his fingers gently on the engraved silver letters that were a stark contrast against the black stone.

Takashi Shirogane

Sighing contently for being reunited after many long weeks, Lance pulled out a can of beer from the holder and cracked the top of the tin open.

“And I got your favorite too!” Lance placed the can beside the flowers before he opened another one for himself. “It’s actually the last on in the store; it was like it’s meant for us. Pretty cool, huh?”

Silence.

“Oh, Keith called me the other night.” Lance continued and he paused to take a drink from his beer. He closed his eyes as he savored the malty taste and the cool liquid soothed his parched throat that was scratchy from yelling at Lotor. “We went out with Pidge and Hunk to celebrate because Hunk’s finally a dad!” he chuckled. “Twins, babe. Twins. Sometimes, I think Shay is Wonder Woman in disguise.”

Still, more silence. Lance was the only one in that part of the cemetery that day which was something he was fine with because he’d be able to talk openly to Shiro as if he was there.

Well, Shiro really is there; he’s just never going to wake up again.

“I’m breaking up with Lotor. He cheated on me.” Lance pierced the silence and he placed his beer beside him. “God, what was I thinking? I’m such an idiot; I should’ve broken up with him the moment I noticed what he’s doing but I just… I don’t know, Shiro. I deserve someone better. You never treated me like that and I’m not about to let someone ruin me like this; not after all the love you’ve given me---“ his voice trailed off at the end and the sobs finally broke out.

“Fuck, Shiro, I miss you.” Lowering his head, Lance saw the image of the grass beneath him blur with the tears that fell. “I miss you, baby, I miss you so much. I’m sorry I let it get this far.”

No one was going to hold him, kiss him, make love to him, or love him the way Shiro had. And with that fact, Lance knew that Shiro would always be the missing part of him that he can never again have. Back then, Shiro had prepared him for the possibility that he might come home in a box wrapped with a flag.

And to Lance’s heartbreak, Shiro did.

“No one will ever match up to you, baby.” Lance said quietly. “But if I ever fall in love again somewhere along the way, I will make sure that they’ll be worth what you’ve made me realize about myself; that I, myself, am worth it.”

When Lance’s phone vibrated, he wiped his tears and calmed himself before he pulled out the device from his pocket to see that Pidge had sent a message asking where he was because Lotor called them and they were suspicious because his stories were inconsistent.

‘Douchebag Prince smells like a fucking liar, Lance. Did something happen? Come to my place.’

Lance ignored the text for that moment because the moment belonged to him and Shiro. The rest of the afternoon passed in comfortable silence with Lance consuming three cans of beer before leaving the other three popped open at the base of Shiro’s grave. It was just like old times with the two of them sharing everything: food, clothes, the bed, beer, laughter, sadness, smiles, tears, love…

The hardest part came when Lance knew that he had to go.

“The others are probably worried.” Lance said to Shiro. “I need to head back before Keith launches a search party for me.” He chuckled and gave a small but sad smile. “Your little brother’s doing great, babe. You don’t have to worry about him.”

Lance finally stood up and dusted himself off.

“I’m heading off now,” he said. “I’ll see you on Memorial Day, captain.” A pause and Lance felt his heart swell in the silence of the peaceful cemetery.

“I love you, Shiro.”

Those four words echoed deeply in him and he knew that a part of him will always remain faithful to Shiro just like how he would always love him. Blowing a kiss into the wind for his beloved, Lance walked off, got in the car, and drove off.

#Shance #one shot #voltron legendary defender #Fairy writes #Lance voltron #Shiro voltron #Lotor voltron #gift fic #FUCK IT HURT TO WRITE THIS AND I DONT EVEN SHIP THEM #WHY DO I LIKE SAD STUFF SO MUH #Shiro x lance

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kaleyamdarenawz32insurance-blog · 5 years

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alittlebitofpersonality · 5 years

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aLBoP is not MBTI

Hey, it’s Justin! So…this post has words in it. It’s written with words. I’m typing words right now, with the strange expectation that words can communicate thoughts and ideas. It’s odd, and it hasn’t seemed to work very well so far. Yet maybe, there’s a faint chance that typing a few more words might be able to communicate something to somebody.

A Little Bit of Personality is not Myers-Briggs Type Indicator. We say so right there in the intro video…and in lots of posts on here, posts with words. We started there, as we’ve said before, because we were just having fun and we, like so many, presumed that MBTI was a reliable, scientific system. Yet as we’ve said before, we gradually came to see more and more ways in which MBTI is inconsistent, in which it does not work, in which it encourages and even relies on stereotypes and superficial simplifications of people. And what was worse, we started to see that many, many people apparently wanted those stereotypes and simplifications.

We started to see how much “personality typing” was used as a petty weapon in infantile campaigns to put down anyone whose mind worked differently. We cringed more and more whenever we saw four-by-four grids that listed insultingly shallow sets of qualities for each of the sixteen types, and which portrayed some types as clearly better, smarter, more reliable, more successful, more creative, more visionary, more concrete, more compassionate, more practical, or simply of greater worth and value than the others. Personality typing had become a shallow and subjective mudfight through which people tried to compensate for their own unresolved personal insecurities by putting down others who made them feel inadequate. Apparently, there are a lot of second-graders online who are quite skilled at writing up passive-aggressive four-by-four grids.

So we went back to the beginning, because we knew there was so much good here! We, like so many of you guys, had gotten excited about personality typing for a reason. It was exciting to see how our minds worked, and how others’ minds did too. It was so cool to try to figure out the personality types of fictional characters, or of historical figures or celebrities we liked. But now that we had seen how personality typing had become such a putrid and subjective cesspool, we had to go back to the basics to figure out what was good and what was brain-damaging.

We’ve talked about this before, in several posts that use words. We’ve described how a clarification of basic definitions is one of the first indispensable steps in any effort to replace subjectivity with objectivity. We’ve talked about how we didn’t have to throw out the baby with the poisonous bathwater, and so we were able to use the brilliant original work done by Carl Jung and by Katharine Cook Briggs and her daughter Isabel Briggs Myers (all of whom died long before the internet), without the simplified dangers of modern MBTI. On aLBoP Phase 2, we go into far greater depth about our scientific process, how we were able to clarify definitions that made Cognitive Typing into a reliable and repeatable hard science, rather than a subjective and dubious soft-science. But all those posts use words, words that invite you guys to see “Hey wait, this is different. This isn’t what I thought I already knew.”

A Little Bit of Personality is part of a larger endeavor, which we call our “Twenty-Five Year Plan,” a plan to simply help make life better for as many people as we can. As I’m writing today, we’re a bit more than eleven years in, on the fourth of eight stages. This is all stuff that’s explained in depth on the full Phase 2 site. It’s really exciting to us, and though we did not initially expect to use Cognitive Typing or anything like it as a tool in this plan, aLBoP has become a powerful way for us to reach and help so many awesome people! Yet originally, we didn’t plan to have Phase 2 be a separate website; we were just going to put all the information right here on one site, for all the internet to see. We’re very glad now that we didn’t.

There is nothing secret on any of our sites, and all the information on all three of our sites (Phase 1 here, Phase 2 Intro, and full Phase 2) is all completely free of charge. But we realized that we had to separate our content into multiple sites when we saw the bizarre and aggressively cruel reactions of so many people to even the comparatively basic concepts of Cognitive Typing. I’m not referring to insightful and engaging questions; for instance, a lot of cool people have asked very good questions, like “How do you have a large enough sample size to make sure your conclusions are accurate?” “Why don’t you submit to scientific journals?” “What exactly is your experimental process?” etc. Those sorts of thoughtful questions are the sort of thing that we’ve had to save for the later websites, because we realized that even the introductory information here on Phase 1 seems to be far too much for some people to read. Too many words.

We wanted an engaging and active forum where we could talk back and forth with people, instead of only posting articles on a website, but it soon became clear that if we went ahead and put a forum here on Phase 1, open to the internet, then any potential discussion would be buried under arrogant assertions and bitter argument. In fact, when we started a forum on Phase 2, it was astonishing how rapidly that happened, how quickly it became a toxic atmosphere where thoughtful, intelligent people grew ever more wary to post anything. If we didn’t do something, our forum was going to become yet another place on the internet where the discourse was dominated by the bone-headedly obnoxious.

As I’m writing this, I have an online game open in the background, where one of my characters is happily crafting food for me. But I usually play most games with the general chat channels turned off, because while there are a lot of sweet and helpful people in a lot of games, the general chat channels tend to get dominated by the least common denominator. When we first started our Phase 2 forum, some people were convinced that it couldn’t possibly be any different from anywhere else on the internet, calling us naive for trying to create a place online where people could feel safe to freely share ideas, where the thoughtful majority didn’t have to remain silent or risk setting off the irrational blowhards. Yet now, on the full Phase 2 site, we have an awesome and active realtime chat forum where everyone feels safe to think, to work through problems, to discuss ideas, to share their lives and make precious friendships. I’m actually making them wait right now while I write this, but Calise and I thought that this little post was worth taking the time for. Yet that forum would have been impossible if we hadn’t first created a safe place insulated from the wild, aggressively-asserted opinions and jaw-dropping simplifications on the internet.

We wanted to put all of it on one website, and perhaps we could have, were it not for the apparent fact that the current culture of the internet trains us not to read. Trains us not to think. Not to stop and digest. Not to sit back and make sure we understand things before moving on. And it certainly seems to train people to post comments before, you know, reading. We wanted to do videos as well as posts, and we did make a few before moving them away to Phase 2. We wanted to do podcasts, which are a ton of fun but we only do them for Phase 2. This is not meant to be an advertisement for Phase 2 (especially because we are very, very, very behind on responding to Phase 2 invites, really sorry about that!), but rather a challenge to read what’s here on Phase 1. If people can’t do that, then how could they possibly read more anyway?

It’s gotten to the point that I wasn’t sure I should even take the time to write this, because I wondered who would read it? Not that we don’t have plenty of traffic, but I wondered how many people would do more than skim. One of our closest friends, whom we met through aLBoP, told us that when he first stumbled across Phase 1, it was a real shock to him because he had to slow down to really understand it all. He told us that he had grown accustomed to being able to skim most things online, that most articles were fairly simple ideas expressed in way too many words, so he’d gotten used to skimming. But with aLBoP, he had to seriously re-adjust his expectations; he had to take time and think about the content. Another of our friends, upon reading the first Super Simple Series post, said “That’s not simple at all!” We’ve done our best, heh, and we hope that it really is pretty simple and straightforward, but it is also new stuff, not just the same old familiar repetition, so it can’t be simply skimmed.

A couple weeks ago, someone walked up to me and declared that I was an INFP. I tried to be diplomatic and inviting, telling him that I’d be interested to hear what made him say so, and I asked what definitions of the letters he was using. He seemed confused and a bit bothered by the question, and said he was just using MBTI. I still don’t know what made him think that he could so confidently assert someone else’s type like that. Of course, on aLBoP we do quite confidently assert the Cognitive Types of both real and fictional people, but we can only do so as a result of using concrete, clear definitions that leave no subjective wiggle-room. There’s no uncertainty about whether someone is a Cognitive Introvert or Extravert; the definitions are very clear, they leave no room for fudging or gray areas, yet they are also not the same soft and elastic definitions of current MBTI. We have said so, over and over, using words. And yet we still get comments by people unilaterally asserting “Nope, you typed that character wrong,” based on definitions that we are not using, definitions we cannot use for reasons that we have explained repeatedly.

The problem is in the assertiveness, the astounding certainty with which people treat their own points of view as objective fact. There’s nothing wrong with asking questions, with re-examining and re-questioning over and over, with constantly re-checking and revisiting even the things that seem the most well established. Sometimes you might find a mistake, like the time on the Phase 2 Typing Library, when I accidentally put ESTP(ep) Usain Bolt on the library pages for two different Cognitive Types because his picture had somehow got copied over into the wrong folder. Just this morning, someone pointed out a typo where I had said “our” when I meant “or.” And we get so many sweet comments where people ask questions rather than assert opinions as fact. “Why did you type Gandalf as an F instead of a T?” shows a mind that wants to think, to understand, to hear feedback and decide whether or not it makes sense. Yet when someone flippantly comments “No, Gandalf is INTJ like me,” then that shows such a closed unwillingness to question or examine one’s own point of view. No wonder current politics are such a nasty echo-chamber.

So when people assertively tell us “I’m an ENTJ,” “I’m a Ne dom,” etc, it makes us wonder if they’ve really read much of anything before commenting. We do not use the simplistic “dom” system because it turned out to be tremendously subjective, with apparent “dominance” depending far too much on potentially cherry-picked factors that are all too easily used to weigh the result toward a preferred conclusion. As someone once said to us, and as we’ve quoted before, “Personality typing is just horoscopes for people who think they’re too smart for horoscopes.” In other words, it’s all subjective fluff that can be applied equally well to anyone, of any type, as long as people are eager to adolescently define themselves in a way that parodies the real work of finding oneself.

But then, as soon as we mention that, we get sincere comments telling us that astrology is real too. Perhaps it is, perhaps it is not; personally, I have seen many, many reasons to believe it is not accurate or reliable in any fashion, while I have not yet seen anything to suggest the contrary, so far. Yet I have to wonder: what makes someone feel equipped to say that astrology definitively does work, or does not? As soon as we start treating our own personal experiences as universal truths, as soon as we start treating our own opinions as objective facts, and as soon as we make the incredibly self-centered error of saying “I have no experience of such-and-such, therefore it’s crap,” then we shut off our ability to think, to learn, to approach anything in any sort of rational manner. That quote about personality typing being mere horoscopes in disguise, displays its own form of narrow and lazy thinking, by asserting that all “personality typing” is this way, painting life with such a broad brush. It’s this sort of simplistic thinking that leads to racism, sexism, or any other form of prejudice, that says “I’ve seen dumb religions, therefore all religions are dumb,” “I’ve known vile men, therefore all men are vile,” “I only hang around with dishonest people…and I am one myself…therefore nobody is honest,” etc. It’s a lazy and anecdotal simplification of the complexities of people’s lives, hearts, and hopes. It’s mean.

But just because the internet trains us to make everything simplistic and skimmable, just because the current online culture trains us to view our own personal opinions as objective fact, that doesn’t make it our fault. We can learn to see outside our own points of view. We can learn to recognize the powerful lenses of emotion, pain, and desire which skew and distort how we see every experience that happens to us. We can explore just how not objective we are, and then learn to grow past that subjective isolation.

This is why Calise and I have had to de-prioritize Phase 1 for a long time, though. We’ve been working feverishly, constantly, but most of it has not been here on Phase 1. We did put eight months of work into The People of Stranger Things post, we put so much thought and feeling into it, so much care and planning, for a total of more than fifty thousand words. There’s a lot of great stuff in there, but it has produced hardly any results. How can we justify prioritizing the addition of more information here on Phase 1, when people repeatedly show us how little they’ve read of what we’ve already written?

We love our Personalized Typing service, we love seeing people’s faces and hearing about their lives, we love connecting with them, and it’s a great way to find thoughtful, good, decent people. And yet, over and over, it’s an uphill battle to remind people who order typings that we are not MBTI, that we do not use those definitions, as we’ve said so many times in so many posts. Whenever we send out a typing, we always caution people that if they look up their Cognitive Type online, then they are going to find things that are very different, and likely demeaning and limiting. And yet we still get replies of people saying “No I can’t be this type, because here’s what MBTI says about it, and that’s not me.” The Cognitive Orientation Guidebooks, which we package with each typing, spend a fair amount of time explaining and reiterating precisely how each Cognitive Type is different from the popular stereotypes. We really hoped words would get that across.

Yet we know what the internet culture is like, and we know that sometimes we all need to be reminded that it’s okay to slow down and process thoughts instead of living life through reactions. Sometimes I find it intriguing to hop between news networks as they cover the same story, to see how differently each network portrays the very same events. Which bits of video do they show, which do they edit out, and which do they repeat endlessly? Which adjectives and adverbs do they use, to influence viewers’ conclusions? What information do they focus on, what information do they downplay, and what information do they conveniently fail to mention entirely? Like the proverbial blind men and the elephant, the same event and the same data can be interpreted in wildly different ways even when people have the most honest of intentions. So when people are less honest, when people have an agenda, a worldview, an ideology or attitude that they want to push, how much more careful do we have to be before we draw any sort of confident conclusions?

It’s our hope that, by taking a few hours away from other work to write this, maybe this might help nudge aLBoP Phase 1 toward being a site where we can post more information, more Type Heroes, more character spotlights, and just more fun articles. I’ve been wanting to do an article about Winston Churchill for years now, titled “How an ENFP Saved the World,” because he really did, and yes he was unequivocally an ENFP(ip), but how can I justify taking the time to write that, time I could be giving to other people, when so many readers here on Phase 1 won’t, well, read? I worry that so many internet skimmers wouldn’t get past the title before firing off comments authoritatively declaring “He wasn’t ENFP!! He was [roll the dice and insert any number of different types here]!” We owe Gwen and Phil 20 bucks, since someone did indeed leave a comment (one of the many that we decided to leave unapproved) assertively stating that, because Lord Shen has a grand vision, he is therefore INTJ. Wow. So that’s how we’re defining these complex variables of human thought and desire, now? And so none of the other fifteen Cognitive approaches to life can have a grand vision? Seriously? Sorry Elon Musk, no ENFJ(ij) for you, you gotta be INTJ I guess. The all-knowing internet decrees it thus.

We really hoped, and I still do hope, that by bringing the subject of Subtypes here to Phase 1, it would be a quick way to immediately show people “Hey look, see those two little letters in parentheses? Then maybe, just perhaps, this is something a little bit different from what you’re already used to.” We hoped that would help the Personalized Typing service more easily show people “Hey this isn’t just MBTI, see? We’re giving you six letters, not just four.” There are actually more than six letters, more than eight; it seems to be a magnificently reiterating fractal of complexity, with each new layer of sub-typing adding ever more clearly definable nuance to the intricacy of consciousness, but we figured that the basic idea of Subtypes was plenty enough for Phase 1 right now. I worry that even by dangling that little hint of more information, it might lead people to leap to conclusions and simplifications. Fair enough, but I also hope that this can encourage more of you to read a little more carefully, to ponder a little more than you already do, to consider, to question, to dig deep, to see outside your own point of view and become a voice for understanding instead of adding to the cacophonous chorus of cartoony, rigid simplifications.

TL;DR: aLBoP is not MBTI. But more accurately, if you really want a “Too Long, Didn’t Read,” then why are you even here? There are plenty of skimmable websites that will be more than happy to let you simplify people into shallow little subjective boxes. This is not a blog, though it did start as one over on blogspot, but pretty quickly we realized how much aLBoP could help us find and help cool people, honest and thoughtful people, people who are willing to expend the labor of time and energy to earn what they learn. That’s the sort of person we love to meet. That’s the kind of person we love to learn from, exchange ideas with, and see how we can help them add to the world in their own way, in their own life. That’s what we’re all about.

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