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drifting-pieces-blog-blog · 2 years

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Complications and Solutions: Chapter 1

Summary: Takes place a few months after Cairo and a month after Jake has made himself known.

Giving the boys space to get to know Jake has been difficult for Layla. Now that they have had time enough to sort out some of the more complicated details, Layla decides it's her turn to meet Jake. Things don't go as well as she hoped.

Pairings: Marc x Layla. Steven x Layla. Jake x Layla.

Warnings: There's a lot of food. People have been tagging food. I guess that can be a warning.

Warnings for future chapters: There are going to be some talks about sex. Nothing hard core, but they will talk about it. Future chapters are also going to discuss some really deep stuff, relationship stuff, and DID/DR/DP stuff. Warnings will be at the start of each chapter.

Word Count: 6,425

A/N: I'M BACK AT IT PEOPLE. MULTI CHAPTER SLOW BURN. Usually I'm all about Jake being ace, but things are going to get complicated in this fic.

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Layla had heard all about the new headmate from Steven. The one she had sort of met back in Cairo that had not only saved all their lives, but that had looked at her like that before disappearing again.

She still saw that look in her dreams. The dark eyes, focused and determined. The parked lips that had twitched up into a small smile at the corners. The knowing nod of acknowledgement before Marc had been dropped back into front position without a clue.

The phone call she got a week later from Steven had been long winded and rambling as he discussed how he had finally spoken to the mystery man. Then the far shorter phone call later from Marc about his reluctance to have anything to do with him.

She gave them space, as much as it killed her. She gave them a month to sort things out. She had to have faith that they would ask for help if they thought they needed it.

So she waited.

Her worry never grew, as she received daily updates from Steven, who had gotten in the habit of calling her every morning. She found it far too endearing and hoped he never stopped excitedly telling her about the most mundane things.

When he missed a day, she had eventually relented and called them late at night.

When the phone picked up, she could hear breathing on the other end, but no acknowledgement.

“Marc?” She tried. “Everything alright?”

There was the smallest of sounds, like the exhale of air through a nose. She waited a moment then tried again.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” She listened intently, trying to pick out anything that would give her a clue as to who this stranger in her husband’s body was. “You remember me, don’t you?”

“sí, señora.” He laughed softly. “I remember you.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest. “Nice to speak to you at last.” She paced in her apartment. “Are things going alright there?”

He laughed and it was a soft sound. “Yes. We are… Working on communication.” His accent was so different from Marc’s and Steven’s. If she hadn’t known better she would have believed that someone else had taken the phone and she was now talking to a completely different body.

“Oh.” Was all she could get out. He sounded so intense. So serious. “Do you need more time? I don’t want to intrude. I just… You know…”

The man on the other side laughed again. “Do not worry, señora. He…We are not going to disappear on you again. I do not run.”

She sighed in relief. “Thank you.” She took a moment to let her fear subside. “Can I meet you? In person I mean. When we aren’t all about to die?”

He was quiet for a moment then she heard him hum softly in thought.

“If you want to come to see us, I will not hide this time. If I am there, perhaps we will meet. I am sure we will meet eventually.”

She flushed and exhaled softly. “Okay.” Why did talking to him make her so nervous? She felt like a schoolgirl calling up a crush for the first time.

She had to remind herself that she did not know this man. Just because he was in her husband’s body did not mean that they had to get along. He could even hate her for all she knew.

“Hasta luego, Hermosa.” He hung up.

She did not know Spanish. She had thought she didn’t need to. Thinking about it now, she didn’t know why it slipped her mind. Marc understood Spanish. He knew a lot more languages than she did and had dazzled her by often speaking Arabic to her in times of passion. His tongue was clearly built to be flexible.

She pulled up her translator and typed out some of the things he had said that she did not pick up on.

Her face flushed bright red. “Beautiful.” This man was clearly a smooth talker. She would have to keep an eye on him.

She gave it another week. Simply because she wanted to hear from Steven and Marc first. This man was smooth, but she could not be sure that he was telling the truth.

When she next brought up coming to visit with Steven, he had practically bubbled through the phone and begged her to come visit.

Well that was two down. Marc was a different story.

“Now?” She could hear him frowning through the phone.

“Of course now. I want to see you. I miss you. I have been missing you for months, Marc!” She insisted. “I gave you so much time to get it all together.”

He made a strained sound. “I just… I’m not sure we have it together enough for…visitors.”

“Steven seems to think it is a good idea. And so does the other one.” She pushed back.

“Jake?” Marc paused. “You spoke with Jake?”

So mister mysterious had a name. She mulled it over, wondering how it might sound in his accent. “Yeah. I spoke with him. He said he would be happy to meet me.”

“I bet he did.” Marc muttered. “Fine. Whatever. Just… I don’t know if we’re exactly as put together as we could be right now. We’ve had some arguments. Turns out it’s difficult for three people to share one body.”

“Of course.” She nodded. “I’m not expecting it to be like before. I just miss you. And Steven.”

“Yeah. Alright.” He sounded distracted. “No. Steven you already spoke with her.” He fell silent and she imagined Steven on the other side, reaching for the phone eagerly. “You can come over tomorrow.” Marc hurried then hung up.

Not for the first time, she wondered just what her life had become. Never in all her life had she ever imagined she would be married to one man, dating another, and meeting a third all in the same body.

She sat up anxiously that night. What if he really didn’t want to meet her? What if he didn’t show up? When would he show up? Would she take Steven to dinner and suddenly find herself on an awkward romantic date with a stranger?

When morning came, she blinked tiredly at the bright window. She was not a makeup type of girl, but she spent extra long that morning getting ready. She made sure her hair was soft and kept from frizzing. She even used the shampoo that Marc liked.

Dressing in her favorite slacks and shirt with the deeper V-cut than normal, she at last left to see her boys. She told herself the outfit was because she wanted to look nice. In reality, she had missed her husband deeply and the thought of Steven giving her that wide eyed look as he saw her at her best made her heart flutter. She also hated to admit that maybe she might impress this new man.

She skipped the scooter, not wanting helmet hair or to dry out her face in the cold air. Stepping out of the cab, she stared up at the building. Had it really only been three months since she had been forced to hide on the roof while Harrow’s men took Steven away?

She was about to go inside when the door opened and she saw them step outside.

Her first impression had been that it was Marc. The posture was far too stiff to be Steven’s normal slouch. His jacket zipped halfway up with hands deep in the pockets gave her a different impression though. This was not Marc’s posture.

“Jake?” She called out softly.

Jake froze in the doorway and stared at her. She could almost see his desire to step back inside and shut the door. He sighed and slowly moved down the steps towards her.

“Hermosa… I was not expecting you so soon.” He looked at her with his dark eyes, focused completely on her.

She was not used to such intensity. Steven’s eyes always found her as if not expecting to see her there, wide and wandering as he struggled to find a place to settle. Marc stared at her with a softness that had melted her from day one. This… This was a man that focused and took everything around him in with just a single look.

It was the look from Cairo. The look that knew where the danger was. The look that saw through her to her very core.

She blushed and looked down. “I thought it best not to wait. Marc mentioned that there had been some…fighting.”

Jake paused. He tapped a finger at his side quickly, looking past her. “Hmm.” He nodded then frowned. “A little. Do you want to come with me? I was going to walk down to the market to get a few things.”

She looked up at him in surprise. “Oh! Uh, sure! I mean… I’m here to meet you, aren’t I? Get to know the infamous Jake I’ve heard so much about.”

He looked at her with a slight frown. “From Steven?”

She cursed silently. “Yeah. Sorry. It was nothing bad! He was just excited and I was…”

“Curious.” Jake moved to the sidewalk and started walking. She had to give a little skip to catch up then took up position at his side. He walked in a long stride that made her have to do double time to keep up.

“Yeah.” She huffed slightly. “Wouldn’t you be?”

He glanced over and started taking smaller steps, slowing down to match her. “I suppose I am curious about you.”

“Me?” She looked up at him in surprise. “What’s there to be curious about? I’m hardly that interesting.”

He smiled, the corners of his mouth turning up in a crooked grin. “You are the most interesting one here, Hermosa.”

She stopped and gave him a look, crossing her arms defensively. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He looked back at her, once more giving her that intense stare as he looked her over. “Mírate…”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “What does that mean?”

His grin spread as he continued. “You fall in love with a mercenary. And you knew what he was. You aren’t stupid. You have a stretch of bliss and passion and then he turns out to be in contract with a God. You help him and care for him, but it isn’t enough and he disappears. You track him down and find out everything about him was a lie. Yet, still here you are trying to share time with him and two other people you don’t know. Persistent.”

Was he sassing her? She eyed him a moment.

“He died, you know. I assume you died too. If the body goes, then so do all of you.” She walked grumpily at his side. “Protecting me as always. I think we both had a wake up call after that. I realized that he still means the world to me and I know he loves me. I don’t care about all of that. I understand why he did it. He was afraid.”

It was Jake’s turn to stop. He tapped his finger at his side again and she wondered if it was agitation or some sort of grounding tick.

He stared ahead, eyes not quite focused for a change. “Cómo se dice…” He muttered to himself. Finally he gave a head shake and returned to himself as he looked back up at her.

“Are you alright?” She hugged her arms to herself now, worried she had upset him.

“We don’t like to think about the death.” He murmured softly. “All three of us experienced our own journey there…”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” She reached out and lay a hand on his arm.

He looked down at her hand for a moment then the small smile was back. “You were hurt by it too. I saw what you did for him. You are fierce.”

“I was just trying to help in any way I could. Finish the mission.” She shrugged.

“I see why he loves you.” Jake continued on. “You are both stubborn.”

She wanted to argue it, but she could not deny that both her and Marc were incredibly stubborn.

“You have me at a disadvantage.” She sighed and followed him. “I feel like you’ve known me for years and I’ve only just met you.”

“Hm.” Jake shrugged. “Formally, yes.”

She raised an eyebrow again. “Formally? Have we met before?”

He looked back at her then sighed. “The fun part about D.I.D is that you don’t always have as much control as you think. He spent years keeping his eye on Steven. I spent years keeping my eye on him. Sometimes we had trouble and weren’t always aware of it. Sometimes we had to hide who we were so as not to bring attention to ourselves.”

“So you knew all about his life but he didn’t know about you.” She nodded, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable. “I’ve been looking back since Cairo. Trying to find clues. Anything really. Clues I missed. Things I could have seen or handled differently if I had known…”

“You shouldn’t.” Jake sighed. “You’ll go crazy thinking of all the things you could have done. You’ll tarnish the memories if you look at them all wondering if he was suffering or if it was me or Steven sitting next to you.”

“But I want to know! I want to know each time he stared into space if…” She fought back a sudden knot of emotion that was building in her throat. She hated feeling like this. Hated being so vulnerable in public.

“Layla…” The accent shifted ever so slightly and she swore she could hear more of Marc in it than Jake. He reached out and gently took her arm, hooking his elbow around hers as he pulled her closer. He blinked hard and the accent was back. “No te preocupes, mi amor. Do not worry about us. You don’t have to stress about the past. You can’t do anything about it.”

She blushed. “You are a sweet talker, aren’t you?”

“I keep things from escalating as best I can.” He looked up as they approached the market. It was a little outdoor stand with fresh fruits and vegetables and other goods. “Do you like fried plantains?”

“You cook?” She didn’t know why she was surprised.

“One of us has to.” Jake muttered. “Steven spends too much on take out and Marc should not be left to fend for himself for too long.”

Jake picked out some plantains then moved to get some fresh fruit, expertly checking everything for bruises or bad spots.

She took the basket from him, simply following him around as he picked out items and handed them to her.

He seemed so comfortable as he moved. So relaxed and confident. The space he took up was nothing at all like watching Steven try to shrink down or Marc stand his ground. Jake moved like a man that knew exactly what was happening around him at all times.

She remembered the battle again. The exact moment she had watched Marc go down into the crater and then when he had gotten back out.

It had all been so fast. He moved like a man that was used to surviving in the moment.

She looked up at him as he picked out fresh eggs, checking the shells for cracks.

“Do you have a last name?” She smiled up at him curiously.

“Lockley.” He placed his chosen eggs into a carton carefully.

“Did you pick it?” She knew about Steven’s name now, and had even dug out the old movie and watched it on her own in an effort to understand.

“Sure.” He shrugged. “Sounded good at the time.”

She decided to push a little. “What is your role in the system?”

“Protector. Maybe more. I haven’t really looked into it much.” He grabbed a container of tofu and slipped it into the basket. “For Steven.” He shrugged. “We have to respect his choices and he has to respect ours. It was a topic that came up in the past few weeks.”

“Of course. It’s only common courtesy.” She eyed the tofu, wondering what Steven liked so much about it. “How long have you existed for?”

He glanced at her and she regretted her choice of words instantly. He didn’t seem to hold it against her though as he thought.

“I’m not sure. A long time. Not as long as Steven. Steven was the first.” He glanced at her and beat her to the next question before she could ask. “I am not going to talk about those memories. I would also appreciate it if you didn’t ask Marc about it either. He doesn’t know about that time in his life and we all agreed on taking it slow when it came to memory sharing.” He looked down. “We had a bad time of it a few weeks back when we first started to try it.”

“You can share memories?” She diverted easily.

“In a way.” Jake paused and she realized he tilted his head slightly to the side when he was thinking about something and trying to decide how to communicate it to her. “We can share feelings. Images. Sometimes we can show bits of memories. A lot of it is abstract. It’s a language we are working out.”

“Do you talk? To them, I mean. Steven and Marc were talking to one another all the time in Cairo.” She shifted the basket as it started to grow heavier.

He glanced down at her hands and took the basket away. “I didn’t. I’m learning to now. It’s hard to break old habits. Most of the time Marc only walks when he wants something and Steven…He never shuts up.”

“Why didn’t you talk before?” She followed him to the checkout stand.

He glanced at her then at the register attendant. He lowered his voice. “We had nothing to talk about. I spoke to Marc once when we were little. They didn’t understand. I stopped trying after that.”

She smiled at the cashier and stopped her questions until all had been paid for and packed up. They each took a bag and headed back out to the streets. Once away from the people she started up again.

“Does it make you uncomfortable to talk about these things in public?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“That is one of the things I’m not going to talk about.” He looked at her then cut her off before she could get the next question out. “Are you expecting me to treat you like Steven does?”

She was taken back by that. “What do you mean?”

“To fall madly in love with you at first sight? To gush all my thoughts and feelings to you every chance I get? To cling to you and follow you around like a kicked puppy?” He looked straight ahead. “I’m not Marc and I’m not Steven. I’m not some broken off part of Marc. I’m not even required to like you, much less love you.”

She felt her face flush and felt like she’d been hit. “Now you listen to me, Jake Lockley!” She snapped as her emotions overtook her. “That was rude and uncalled for! You are a stranger to me! You are some unknown man who happens to live in the body of two people I care deeply about! I am trying to get to know you so that I can continue to love them and not have to worry about this extra person I might piss off or offend! Unlike you, I am making an effort!”

She marched ahead, clutching at the bag of groceries tightly. She stopped at a crosswalk and didn’t look up when he came to stand next to her.

They stood in silence for a moment. “Lo siento.” He whispered. “I… I’m not used to talking to people. I’ve had to pretend to be someone else for a long time and now that I don’t…”

“You’re afraid I’ll treat you like one of them.” She glanced up at him. He was looking straight ahead, watching everything around them and scanning the traffic as if expecting something to go wrong.

He nodded. “More or less.”

She sighed. “I don’t expect you to treat me like they treat me. I would honestly be upset if you did. You are your own person. If you said you loved me right off the bat, it would be a lie. If you expected me to love you just because you share a body with my husband I would be offended. I don’t know you.”

He turned to her and held out a hand.

She stared at his hand for a moment then shifted the bag and slowly took it. He shook it gently.

“Jake Lockley. Nice to meet you. I would like to get to know you.”

She smiled and shook his hand. “Layla El-Faouly. I would like to get to know you too.”

They continued on in silence till they got back to the apartment. Once inside, he took the bags to the kitchen and started to unpack them.

Layla looked around at everything curiously. It had been a long time since she had been there. It still very much spoke of Steven. The books, the clutter of things about Egyptology and other things related to it.

The fish tank was still there, bubbling happily with two goldfish navigating the tank together. The postcards were gone and replaced by notes that looked like messages from and to each other.

There were reminders to do things, pick up items at the store, angry notes, sorry notes, and notes that simply said hello.

She noticed a few of Marc’s things strung about, his favorite jacket, his hat, and a few things that looked like they catered more towards Marc’s interests than Steven’s.

She also noticed a few items that she did not recognize: A fancy jacket, a flat cap, a tie, a book in Spanish, and a few magazines on cars.

She walked around the living room, taking in the organized chaos and hints of three people trying to figure out how to share a space.

She heard clattering from the kitchen and looked over to see Jake pulling out some pans and cooking supplies.

“Have you eaten? I was thinking of making a frittata with plantains on the side. Steven won’t eat the frittata, but he likes plantains.” Jake paused and looked up at her as if worried she might decline.

“I haven’t eaten. That sounds nice.” She moved to take a seat by the kitchen and watched him. “Do you cook for them often?”

Jake shrugged. “I cook when I feel like it. When I’m done, whoever is out gets to eat it if they want. I learned to cook a long time ago. Marc was-” He cut off and looked up and off into the distance. He shook his head and looked back down, going back to organizing and preparing.

She chewed her lower lip as she watched. “Can I ask some questions about what you have going on? I didn’t really get to talk to them much about it after Cairo. I did some of my own research, but it seems silly to just assume I know everything because an outdated book told me something.”

Jake glanced at her as he started to chop things. “Go ahead. If there’s something I don't want to answer, we’ll skip it.”

“Are Marc and Steven present right now?” She watched his knife work as he diced. He was precise and fast. There was no hesitation as he spun an onion around and made thin slices then spun it the other way and chopped.

Jake nodded. “Marc is. He is… monitoring.” The way he said the last word made Layla think that perhaps Jake was not thrilled at the situation.

“So Marc can see and hear me?” Layla blinked in surprise, suddenly self conscious.

“A little.” Jake glanced up before tossing the onions into a pan to saute. “Fly on the wall situation. You can see things from a distance and hear it a bit. You have to really try to pay attention. There is a heavy reliance on information transfer and communication when someone isn’t paying attention and that…it doesn’t always happen.” He sighed.

“So where is Steven? Where do you go when you aren’t present?” She wanted to tread carefully, but she honestly didn’t know how to ask her questions without just jumping in. For some reason, she felt that Jake was probably the best one to do this with. Marc was still highly on guard when it came to these things and always shut down.

Jake washed some tomatoes and started to slice into them. “A few different things can happen. I don’t really know how to describe it. For me, you are either driving like I am now. You have full control. Sometimes you have an annoying passenger or two that like to leave commentary and you have to try to shut them out so you don’t crash the fucking car.” He paused and she felt that his comment was very pointed.

“Sometimes the passenger reaches over and just takes the wheel. You are still in charge, but maybe you turn left when you really want to turn right. Maybe they do it because they see or know something you don’t and don’t know how to communicate it to you. Or maybe they do it because they are being assholes.” He shrugged and started to pull out some herbs and spices.

“I’ve seen that. When Marc and Steven were fighting.” She shivered as she remembered seeing Marc impaled over and over again by the poles. “It looked unpleasant.”

“Yeah. It’s not exactly fun.” He shuffled the onions a little then started adding in things. “Sometimes you’re in the backseat. Maybe the driver doesn’t know you are there, but you are watching. Marc did that a lot to Steven. You let the driver go about their business and hope the driver doesn’t look up and see you in the mirror.”

That sounded horrifying. Layla suddenly understood why Steven had been so angry at first.

“But you can’t get out of the car.” Layla followed his metaphor. “Can you? So what happens when you don’t know what’s going on? When you get shut out?”

Jake shrugged. “Maybe it’s more like a semi and there’s a sleeper cabin? You don’t know what’s going on. You don’t know how much time is passing. You go off and just exist in your own space. That’s where Steven is now. He’s resting I suppose. He wasn’t really expecting you to come by so early or he would one hundred percent be up here trying to take the wheel.”

She nodded. “So you can slip in and out any time you want into any position? How do you decide who takes the driver seat?”

Jake paused and stirred the mixture slowly. “Sometimes you get to decide. You can communicate and ask and decide what you want in what position. I take care of the shopping and cooking. Marc cleans. He’s a neat freak, really. Steven takes care of the body. He is very particular about that unless one of us asks.”

“And sometimes you don’t?” She leaned forward in her chair.

“We can fight for the position. We can fall out of the position too… There are stress triggers. Trauma triggers. I have a job, remember? So does Steven. We can be triggered out. Or we can flat out refuse to take the seat and throw someone else in. Someone always has to be driving, you see. Sometimes you aren’t expecting it and sudden there you are. I could throw Steven in here right now if I really tried and he would be utterly confused and lost. It’s not a fun feeling.”

“Oh…I wouldn’t think that would be fun!” She remembered reading a bit about the trauma response and triggers. It made sense to her and suddenly other things were starting to make sense. “Oh…”

Jake glanced back at her. “Just put two and two together, didn’t you?”

She nodded. “Yeah. A lot of things suddenly are starting to make sense.” She thought back, remembering the times Marc took longer to come back from missions where he finally returned looking pale and haunted. Times when he would wake from a dream thrashing and suddenly go still only to stare at her with a dazed and groggy look hours later.

“Why didn’t Steven know about me? You obviously knew about me.” She moved to get a glass from the cabinet and fill it with water. It was an excuse to focus on something else so she didn’t have to think about all the times she was now starting to suspect Jake had been there right in front of her.

“Marc kept Steven separate. He let Steven build up his own life and kept him there like a fish in a little bowl.” Jake paused and looked to the side. He frowned. “You fucking did. You kept him like a pet. Do you want me to ask Steven how he feels about it?”

She sipped from her glass, glancing over to where he was looking as if expecting to be able to see Marc there. She could almost imagine his posture and grumpy face as he argued.

Jake glared and looked ready to argue more when he glanced at Layla and composed himself. “Lo siento. Sorry.” He went back to cooking.

“It’s fine. If it helps to talk out loud, I want you to be comfortable around me.” She sat back down. “Steven told me that Marc was going to ‘go away’. What did he mean by that?”

Jake stopped and stared down into the pan. He flinched then glanced to the side again then looked back down. His face was tight and she could tell he was struggling with something.

“Is Marc telling you not to tell me?” She set the glass down.

Jake nodded then sighed. “He was going to go dormant. Inactive. You essentially can lock yourself in the trunk and just ignore it all and no one can get you back out but yourself if you ever choose too. You don’t even know what’s going on. You just go into a darkness and stop functioning.”

“Have any of you ever gone dormant before?” She asked quietly, afraid of the answer.

Jake nodded again. “I have. A long time ago. Steven also did for a time. He wasn’t aware of it. We talked about it a bit. Steven was…upset.”

“He’s missing a lot of time. He told me a little about it on the phone. I’m sure there was a good reason for it…” She looked down.

“There was.” Jake stepped back from the stove, letting things cook. “It is one of the things I’m not going to talk about.”

“Is Marc missing time like that? He’s never gone dormant, right?” She suddenly had a sinking feeling.

Jake frowned. “He has never gone full dormant. He is missing small stretches where he left Steven run things…” He glanced up then looked down. “Marc is missing a couple of years. He is…” He winced. “He was unaware of it till rather recently. I have not talked to him about it yet and we all decided it was best that I didn’t until we settled some other things first.”

“You’re a protector.” Layla swallowed. “Did he need protecting that badly?”

Jake nodded then looked away. “Even I have my weaknesses.”

She looked him over, his open posture so different from Marc’s normally closed off stance and still even further from Steven’s calm and friendly inviting posture. One could easily mistake Jake for calm and relaxed man, but he never really was relaxed. He always looked like he was coiled and ready to act in the blink of an eye.

“I know your condition is caused by trauma…” She started.

Jake shook his head. “No.”

She frowned. “I’m not allowed to ask about that either? Not even Marc? I feel like maybe I should have the ability to ask my husband if there is anything I can do to help him.”

“No.” Jake turned off the stove and got a plate. He flipped the pan over and slid a perfect looking frittata across the counter to her. He set out a couple of empty plates and some forks. “Let me make this easy for you, señora. We will not be asked questions about our trauma. You will not ask about our missing memories or lost time. You will not talk about our parents and you absolutely will not ask about our childhood. ¿Lo entiendes?”

She stared up at him. She did not like being told no like this.

Jake set out another plate and placed the fried plantains on it. He gave her an equally stubborn look. “And for the record, it is considered rude to ask to speak to someone else. If Steven is in the driver seat, you do not get to demand to speak to Marc. If I am suddenly in the driver seat by force, there is a damn good reason for it and you will listen to me.”

She stared into his eyes for a moment, taking in the sharp look and hard lines. “You really do love them, don’t you?”

He blinked, looking startled.

“You do. You are so protective of them both. You didn’t save me in Cairo. You saved them. You saved me because you knew how much they cared about me. You would give anything to keep them safe and happy. Maybe you’re a little too protective. How are they supposed to heal if you won’t let them out of your grip?”

Jake took a step back and blinked. The body shuddered and yawned then stiffened as the posture changed.

“Wow.” Marc glanced around, reorienting himself. “You really pissed him off.” He chuckled.

Layla huffed and looked down. “Damn it. I was trying really hard not to do that…”

Marc leaned over the counter and kissed her forehead gently. “Never change.”

“Is he still back there?” She winced and looked up at him. “I’m sorry. Tell him I’m sorry.”

Marc just shook his head. “He’s off. Gone wherever it is he goes. Honestly, I think he needed that. He isn’t used to being told no or meeting any resistance. Steven rolls over for him.”

She sank down and looked at the food. “He’s a really good cook.” She cut herself a piece and started to eat.

Marc grinned. “He’s fucking amazing with a spatula. Can’t do dishes to save his life though.” He took a bite and glanced around the kitchen at the mess. “Mnh. Save some of the plantains for Steven. He loves this stuff.”

She nodded and savored the frittata. “Did you hear it all?”

Marc gave a bobble of his head. “Yeah. He’s a bit uptight. I mean, he has some good points. I really would rather not talk about certain things… But that’s sort of my deal, isn’t it? Kind of what got me in trouble with you the first time…”

“A little.” Layla smiled up at him, relaxing a little.

Marc sighed. “We’re still figuring a lot out. It was upsetting to find out that I didn’t have the control I thought I did. Steven took it well, but he’s sort of an expert at it now. I’m honestly terrified that there might be more. That I’m so messed up that… I can’t ask you to put up with this. Layla, what if there’s fifty people up there and I can’t ask you to be that patient.”

She took his hand. “Marc… If there were a hundred people, I would still love you. I’d put up with the biggest jackass if it meant I got to spend more time with you.”

He nodded. “Yeah. What did he call you? Persistent?”

She smiled. “And stubborn.”

“I think you and he are going to have fun.” Marc grinned.

“I really hope not.” She blushed. “I wanted to make a good first impression.”

“I think you did just fine.” Marc looked at her for a moment, taking in her hair and outfit. “Any other plans?”

She gave him a sly look. “Pity Steven isn’t around. Maybe my plans were for him.”

“Just me and you, baby.” He leaned forward on the table. “You can always try out your Steven plans on me. I’ll let you know if he’ll like them.”

She smirked. “You’re bad.”

She pulled him close and kissed him softly. “My only plans were to see you all.”

Marc kissed her again and sat back. “Stay the day. Steven will be upset if he misses you.”

“I had planned on taking him out to dinner. It that’s okay with you…” She looked up at him nervously.

“Romantic date?” Marc gave her a sideways look.

“Sort of…” Layla looked down.

“Yeah. He told me.” Marc shrugged. “He’s been blathering about it all night. Passed out now because he didn’t get to sleep till like four in the morning. Enjoy yourself. I told you I was fine with it. It’s… It’s sort of comforting, actually. You with him.”

It was Marc’s turn to look away.

Layla took his hand again and stroked her fingers across it lightly. “I understand.”

Since Marc and Steven had worked things out, Marc had started to rely more heavily on Steven and be more open. Maybe it was part of his lack of self worth, but he also found the idea of Layla with Steven to be a good thing. Like somehow she could find in Steven what he couldn’t give her.

She hoped that one day Marc would see that she had all her needs met by him. That she loved Steven for being his own special person.

She looked at the plate of fried plantains and wondered if Jake had any opinions on the two of them sharing her. Did Jake think she was a potential hazard? If things ever went south, things could get complicated very quickly.

She thought about the way he had looked at her, watching her the same way he had watched the traffic at the light. Watching for danger and waiting for something to go wrong.

She was going to have to change that.

#Moon Knight #Moon Knight fic #Marc Spector #Steven Grant #Jake Lockley #Layla El Faouly #This was supposed to be something else and it ate me alive so here we go #let's do this

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dreamchaserguild · 2 years

Text

Dream Journal: The Waterpark

Ghost: Have you ever found yourself driving in the passenger seat of a car in the middle of a city that's flooding, where roads seem like they can't decide if they want to be actual roads or massive water slides? No?

Well, that's where I was this morning.

Some of the roads were angled upward like ramps before falling off into an abyss. It was hectic and chaotic. On the off chance you've ever played Tectonic in the PS4 Dreams game, it's like that but with a lot of water everywhere. If you haven't, here's a video.

youtube

It's way cooler in 1st person mode in VR.

It's not so cool when you're in the middle of an actual dream and don't realize that none of this is really happening.

At a certain point, we got split up. I don't know if I fell out of the car or if it just wrecked and we agreed to go our separate ways and meet up later. Doesn't really matter.

What matters is that somehow, I found myself alone in a flooded playground and needed to make my way across monkey bars without falling into the water.

It was at this point that I had the thought that "this whole scenario is so weird. It almost feels like I'm in some kind of bizarre dream." And then I had the lightbulb moment of "oh, yeah! I must be dreaming. That makes way more sense."

Feeling invigorated with this new realization, I confidently crossed the Monkey Bars of Watery Doom and entered the dark, abandoned school building nearby.

Yes, it was creepy, but none of it was real, and I was confident I could take whatever this dream decided to throw at me.

While walking through the abandoned halls, I met Bianca.

Now, Bianca wasn't given a name in the dream, but she needed one and with her fair skin and white dress, I decided to go with a name that literally just means "white." Simple and straight to the point.

I see the woman I've retroactively named Bianca, and I am marveling at how real the dream feels as I do a lot when I first become lucid. I can't even remember what she said to me, but I was just focused on how audible it sounded, like actual words rather than the mind-voices of headmates.

"You have a beautiful voice," I said to the dream character.

"How do you see it?" she replied, confused.

"See what?"

"My voice? How do you see my voice?"

"Umm... you don't. You hear it."

Bianca just looks at me blankly, and I wonder if the dream character even understands the concept of sound.

"With your ears," I clarify, pointing at her ears. "What... what did you think those were there for?"

"For rotating," Bianca says as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Then she takes her right ear with her fingers, and she fucking twists it 90 degrees like the ear was on a wheel so that the ear lobe was pointing forward.

That was both horrifying... and intriguing. I planned on continuing to interrogate this mysterious and bizarre creature when these large, muscular dudes started filing out of the corner of the room. They looked intimidating and I felt like they wanted to fight.

I felt like they wanted to fight me because of my interaction with Bianca. I had caused her to go too far off-script, and they were coming in to set everything back to normal

I tried talking to them to see if they would say anything interesting like Bianca did, but they weren't interested in playing that game. No. They had come here for one reason and one reason only. They were hear to knock the daylights into me.

Okay then. Bring it on.

They came at me. It was three to one, and I each of them were taller and more muscular than I am. I hit, but they hit me back. I knocked one down on the floor, but they kept pummeling me. The fight only lasted a few seconds, and I was down on the ground, beaten.

The men all brushed themselves off and turned to go. The fight was over.

Then I stood and smiled at the men in the room.

"Good job guys," I walked over and patted one on the shoulder. "That was fun. Do you want to go again?"

That's the thing about lucid dreaming. They can knock me down all they want. But I didn't feel a damn thing except the excitement of the fight. Nothing they could do could hurt me.

And they were just so completely bewildered. They expected me to just stand down. To act like someone would if they had gotten beaten up in real life. Or at least to be scared of them.

But these weren't threats that could hurt me. They were specimens to be analyzed and dissected.

Then I woke up.

Maybe it was my time to wake up. Maybe the befuddlement of the dream characters just caused the entire system to crash. Whatever the case, that was easily one of the strangest and wildest dreams I've ever experienced.

#dream journal #dreams #dream #lucid dreaming #dreaming #lucid dream #lucid dreams #dream character #dream characters #my dreams #Youtube #ghost

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revenant-coining · 2 years

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ooo what would you say is the farthest youve went ?? and how much energy would you say you have . but ooo thats so cool its like you have an infinite source because you can cause chaos wherever you go !!

fate sounds like a lovely being ^__^ do you ever wonder if youll be able to see her again ?? and it kinda sucks how most beings in that dimension only dislike you just because of who you are you cant control that :P im glad you at least had some friends though !!

ooo i dont know anything about politics but was the system corrupt ?? did things works out the way they were ?? how many jobs could one person have ?? what would happen if you didnt have a job how would you live in the world ??

ooo tendrils sound very useful !! were there any other uses for it ?? i wanna draw a character with tendrils now eee /pos

wait so there were mortals in your dimension ?? is there anything else about your dimension that you havent mentioned yet or isnt related to heaven or hell ?? but ooo minecraft is so much fun im glad they have it both here and over there !! i love looking at the builds personally , im planning on making a side blog just for my interests !!

hehe being a menace is fun though !! my headmates tell me im not one though im too sweet and... theyre right FKDJLSJ TwT what kinds of problems would you cause ?? any specific tricks or tomfoolery that stand out to you ?? thats good you didnt care what others thought of you i bet you are very swag then and even now i think youre swag wee :D

DETROIT DJFLSKFJKSDL thats so random /pos

oh my god wait i actually really love learning about your dimension ?? like i love learning about it either way but JFKDJFLFJ that. the sin and virtue system is one of my FAVORITES idk if thats offensive or not lemme know though /gen but that is soo interesting !!

ooo thats good to hear !! im glad and i hope things are still doing well !! do you think youll ever be able to go back ?? if youre the god of chaos and they banished you i wonder how its like there now , do you think the balance has been thrown off because of the lack of chaos managing ?? but YES YES YES if and when you can please do draw it id love to see your interpretation of everything !! /nf

chewies check out list : mlp and hilda (when goop has the time ofc)

dude nesting is one of the autismal things ive learnt being human its just ... yes nest for me and my little creechure brain /pos did you teddy have a name ?? and do you nest right now in this realm ??

ooo why was magic and potion making big ?? what were the plants like ?? what do you think brought the beginning of how your economy works out ?? economy ive never thought id be so interested in before !!

ooo that dimensions sounds interesting its like theyre trying to prepare to not have any mystical beings but it is very interesting how they were able to push you out i wonder how :O do you give dimensions names ?? do the other gods have the power to open portals ??

we experience dpdr as a symptom of being a system so we know what thats like though we never really put a name to it i like how you have a zombie ai and ghost coping link though !!

ramble anon

the only way to measure how far I've gone is how long it takes me to get my energy back (assuming I'm getting a constant stream of chaos energy). but time works differently in different dimensions. the longest i was in a different dimension is 2 years i think? but when i got back to my dimension only a month had past in hell and heaven (a week had past in my dimension's mortal plane, hell/heaven and the mortal plane had different time flow, a month in hell was a week in the mortal plane)

Fate was very lovely :]

I kinda understand why they didn't like me, cause i didn't need to cause problems on purpose, but i did anyway. and i might not have memories of most of my friends but i have positive emotions associated with them :]

despite running in politics i don't think i knew anything about them, I'm pretty sure my friend was doing most of the thinking and i was just along for the ride. i don't recall any big corrupt controversy so i don't if anything happened /gen. most people if they had a job dedicated their lives to it, but nothing was stopping them from having multiple or changing careers. money wasn't nearly as important as it is in the mortal realm (or this universe for that matter). you could trade for goods or do random chores/quests to get stuff.

i mainly used my tendrils to grab stuff i couldn't reach and carry heavy things, since no weight seemed too much for them. also they were nice for like, grounding exercises. i could wrap one around my leg or torso and be chilling

yeah there were mortals. in my universe earth was real and i'd visit sometimes (mainly to learn about music) humans were a thing along with a bunch of humanoid species (like siren/mermaids, hybrids, etc.) there were portals to and from earth, heaven, and hell so it was common for heaven and hell beings to be on earth.

another thing i haven't mentioned is the Red Dimension (a sub-dimension with my "parent" dimension, which is quite literally a dimension where everything inside wants to kill you. the entire dimension and everything in is was some shade of red. it looks kinda cool but is not a fun place to be.

and Fate lived in her own dimension, basically, an infinite space for archiving what has and what will happen, lots and lots of filling cabinets filled with records of everything. inside said dimension is the. waiting line i guess for getting souls into an afterlife if they believed in one.

minecraft builds are very cool, my (this dimension) older brother is real big on building things. and i highly recommend a side blog for your interest :]

when it comes to being a menace and getting chaos energy, chaos, destruction, and absurdity work well on getting said energy. i avoid causing destruction, but sometimes Fate would tell me that something (like a natural disaster) is going to happen so i could be ready for the influx of energy (excess energy makes me hyper). my favorite way to be chaotic was biting people, it works very well on getting energy and is just very fun to do. throwing myself around with my tendrils worked as well. if i could find something to do that would shock people in a absurdity kinda way i'd end up doing it.

the sin and virtue system IS really cool, and don't worry it's not offensive to say that /gen. I'm glad you like learning about my dimension! I really enjoy talking about it :]

I have no clue if I'll be able to go home while in this body since I don't have access to any of my magic, so I guess I'm waiting to see if some powerful being from this dimension or my own gets me home? I don't know how I ended up in this body in the first place /gen. I haven't even thought about how the balance is back home, I hope the other powerful beings have figured out at least a temporary solution.

I'm on my way home right now so when I answer you're next ask I'll have the drawings done and show you :]

I love nesting SO much. comfy objects is what it's all about. I don't recall the name of my teddy bear, and I nest in this dimension as well (not being able to purr lowkey sucks)

magic is very big in my dimension, even mortals use it. so it was used for a lot of stuff, and he'll had lots of resources for magic and potions. magic and potions are important cause of the fact that lots of creatures that are deadlier then the one's in this dimension exist, so mortals have to be able to protect themselves. The plants looked pretty funky /pos and I remember how a few of them look. (I'll show you art of the plants in my answer to your next ask!)

I think the economy started before I was made, which means it's REALLY old, I've been around for a while but it's been around longer.

I've named a couple dimensions (like afterlife but it's Detroit) but they're more like nicknames. Even the Red Dimension has a official name (which I think is just a bunch of numbers and letters?) but we call the Red Dimension cause it's. very red in there.

most powerful beings can open portals or teleport, it's the main way of transportation (especially between earth, heaven, and hell so people don't have to walk to the natural portals.)

my copinglinks are very close to my heart <3 they help a lot with making dpdr less distressing /gen

#long post #i am sooo excited to draw things/places from my dimension. idk why i havent done it before #ramble anon #anon #🪼 asks

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pluralmedia · 10 months

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I have a plural character suggestion that I don't think anyone else has suggested: Saiko Chan from the horror game "Saiko no Sutoka".

She is confirmed on the game's store page to have DID. I feel like it's a bit close to the "plural = normal person with an evil alter" trope, but what sets her apart from that trope is that the violent "yangire" version of her isn't the only crazy headmate; the calm "yandere" version is also pretty messed up (extreme possessiveness, stalking, intentionally giving sleep medicine instead of healing pills, and probably more).

While yes Saiko is canon plural, unfortunately we are avoiding taking pure horror submissions where the plural character is the main/only villain for the Whole media to the point the plot is 'and the crazy person was evil', so she will go in a separate category with Rumi from Perfect Blue for characters of this kind for now.

This is different from just plural villains in that the plot is dominated by 'look at this crazy evil person with a split personality, isnt that scary?' for the whole media property.

This doesnt mean we are purposefully taking in Split and Split adjacent media of all kinds, mind, just that when we get submissions like this or if we find something already on the list is under that, then they will be moved there.

We arent throwing this out because this IS very much a plural character, but also the spirit of the list outside of our desire to rate plural representation for accuracy is less trying to show off horror movie monsters made to vilify us and more to help people find rep in media.

One day we may be actively Also looking for these kinds of media as well for a separate list(but not right now!), so we dont want to completely throw this out for that reason too.

Thanks though!

#blog chatter #if any followers see any characters we have accepted or put on the list that qualify let us know and we will move them

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abusedandromeda · 4 years

Text

So most of us have “abuse tactics” or rules when it comes to abuse. There are some cases where people stash food away to eat without their abusers catching them. Sometimes people hide apps where abusers can’t find them. Or it could be as simple as faking a smile around your abuser. Some rules could include “don’t say x” or “don’t wear x clothing”. Let’s talk about our own, shall we? I’ll start:

Simple rule when it comes to the yelling and emotional abuse: Don’t believe a thing my abusers say. They like to call me selfish, confused, overemotional, attention seeking, name calling(Y’all know THAT kinda name calling), etc. Nowadays, now that I know they’re abusive, I just ignore everything because I know those things just aren’t true. I don’t even think back to what they say because if I do, I’ll start thinking “well, isn’t this TECHNICALLY true?”(Thanks to my headmates for telling me otherwise).

Or I could do the opposite of the first rule and take the insults with stride. YES, I am fat. YES, I an overemotional. YES, I am a bitch. No, I don’t think I’m better than everyone else, I KNOW I’m better than everyone else(No, I don’t say this all the time, only when egg donor says it. I’m not better than y’all, and I don’t think I am, we love y’all!(Still better than egg donor though).

Be aware of “the trail”. Talking unprompted has repercussions. We can remember a few times where it has gotten us in trouble. An example would be when I would brag about getting Bs on class quizzes instead of the As that egg donor wanted and that I thought she’d be proud of but then she’d accuse me of not studying enough. Another would be when we accidently told her too much about an incident we were dealing with and she accused us of being a bully(reminder that she didn’t have the full story). Or maybe there’s a friend you want to tell a secret to, is that secret going to be leaked back to your abuser? Be aware of the slippery hills you might stumble upon before you slip and hit rock bottom again. Always assume the worst for example: “If I bring up trans rights, are my parents going to catch on? My mom found my binder, but she’s been quiet. Is she going to take that away? Are they going to tell me I’m still AGAB after they catch on?” Always know “the trail” before you say something you’ll regret (Policing, I know, but I do this to stay out of the way).

Never tell them anything that is sensitive to you, or any secrets for that matter. It’s better to have them insult you using the wrong insult than to have them get under your skin. For example, my self harm is used to call us “attention seeking”, which gets under our skin because it’s such a sensitive topic for us. But, egg donor loves to bring up the fact that we’ve “ruined our hair”, she clearly has forgotten about the fact that the body itself is genderless(we say nonbinary irl because people don’t know we’re plural), I’m a nonbinary trans guy and I’m fucking euphoric with this hair, so those words just don’t affect me as much, if not at all(it did at first, ngl, but then I was like “well, I’m not a woman, so I really don’t care”).

We’ll sometimes bring clothes to school in our backpack or hide them under our clothes. We’ve hide our enby thigh highs and shorts under our jeans, hidden tank tops under jackets, hid make up because egg donor yelled at us for “wearing it on inappropriate days”. Very rarely do we go to the girls’ rest room(I’m AFAB) since we hide the clothes underneath(if y’all are wondering why we do this, it’s because egg donor is basically ashamed of our body being fat and scarred, not to mention having to hide our binder sometimes because of the creep she is analyzing our chest).

Sometimes just sucking it the fuck up. I’m honestly too terrified to correct my “”family”” on my real name and pronouns(the “trail”, egg donor threatened to hospitalize me if I told the teachers my real name. PLUS I don’t want her to use my name, I feel like she’ll just dirty it tbh). It’s also just better to nod along in order to not anger her because she’ll throw her little tantrums if she doesn’t get her way. It sucks, it really does, but I also know it’s going to be for less than a year now. There’s just not much time left, so I just keep my head down, responde to her commands because I know it’s going to pay off. Some weird quote about patience(fuck off, Voltron fans!!)

Now let’s talk about phone stuff. Egg donor doesn’t stalk our phone, but she definitely checks the usual messages and internet hisory. We bypass this pretty easily, but we definitely slipped up just last week by using the messenging app on our iphone and telling another abuse victim that egg donor was abusive. To this day, we don’t know what she knows, but thankfully not a lot since we learned that we’re safe online. We’ve stopped using the messenging app on our phone completely unless it’s not anything related to the “”real us””. As for internet history, egg donor would’ve said something by now, but since she hasn’t, we just switched to chrome instead of using Safari

This is more gender related, but last year we teamed up with teachers to use our name(Carmen irl) and pronouns(they/them)behind egg donor’s back. It worked, surprisingly, and we went through the whole year being called Carmen without egg donor knowing, so I am personally really fucking thankful, especially to my band teacher, for that idea

Hiding stuff is a pretty obvious one. We have hidden money, our hidden electric shaver, we used to hide our pronoun pin, we have hidden documents for a name change, our hidden binder, food even if we don’t want to eat snacks in front of egg donor(nothing happens, I’m just uncomfortable), we used to hide razor blades and a first aid kit unfortunately, hidden ace bandages(Don’t bind with those, pls, that’s very unsafe), and hidden boxer briefs!

Tracking footsteps is very helpful. We can brace ourselves for when she comes around. If I’m crying or just trying to cope with stuff, another headmate can help and deal with her. Tracking footsteps for us just allows to prepare for her basically

And I think that’s all the tactics we use for now. If y’all made it this far, thank you so much for reading this much(or scrolling down here XD) . If y’all want, share what y’all do if you have tactics! I’ll be sure to add more if I remember to!

#self harm #abuse #toxic parents #toxic family #toxic friends #plural system #child abuse #emotional abuse #fat shaming #transphobia #domestic abuse #Trauma

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youllallriseintheink · 4 years

Text

Like It Never Happened, chapter 2.

Susie found work in the city fairly quickly. It was just as a store clerk, but she said that the first thing she needed was an income, and she could focus on having a real career when that was settled. And anyhow, it seemed like a pretty nice place to work. Her only complaint was the hour-long commute each way.

Sammy found out about this while they were talking during one of their dates. At first he didn’t ask if she was planning on moving into the city, opting instead to ask about her coworkers. He saw the opportunity, but the longer he could keep her only seeing him during dates, the longer they could pretend that nothing had happened. It was Susie who had brought it up, and Sammy couldn't resist the urge to ask.

“It’s awkward. I don’t know that I want to live by myself again. Which I know, I’ll have to, and I am looking for a place-"

“Want to move in with me?”

Susie was a little taken aback. “You sure you're okay with that? We’ve only been seeing each other a couple weeks.”

“Sorry. It’s kind of hard to tell where I’m supposed to treat this like a new relationship, and where I’m supposed to act like we can just pick up where we left off. We were fine living together back then. But I understand.”

“No, let's do it. It sounds great” There was a long pause. “I’m going to try and make this as much like before as possible, alright? You’re going to have to be patient with me.”

“Okay,” Sammy had said. After that, they agreed on the day she would move in, and then changed the subject. Sammy wondered what she’d meant by that, but he supposed he would find out. Any signs of trauma she had, she was hiding well. He almost hoped, sick as it sounded, that she was doing worse than him. He’d hate to be the one testing her patience.

Their first week of living together went by without any serious issues, but there was one thing that Sammy noticed, and that was that Susie seemed to be avoiding music. He started noticing the pattern when he’d tried bringing it up once or twice, and she’d immediately changed the subject. Later in the week, he'd decided to play banjo in the apartment while she was around, and she quickly decided that she had elsewhere to be.

"Where are you going?" Sammy had asked.

"I'm going to get some milk." Her eyes were shifty- clearly she was lying.

"We have milk."

"Well, there are other things we need," she said before leaving. Sammy returned to his banjo. He supposed it was Susie's right to not want to listen to him, but still, he was frustrated. When Sammy heard her unlocking the door some time later, he turned on the radio. He wasn't much for 60s music, but he wanted to give her one last test. As Susie came in, carrying a few non-perishable grocery items they'd use eventually, she turned it off.

"Hey, Susie. Since coming out of ink hell, I found a nice little church. I'm going to a service this Sunday, and I was wondering if you'd like to come with me."

Susie looked a little... stunned. Sammy supposed he should have made it less obvious that he was studying her. “I didn’t know you were religious,” Susie said.

Sammy shrugged. “My parents took me to church maybe five times a year. I think I went about ten times in my entire adult life. Believe it or not, it was my experiences with my cult that convinced me that I should go back.”

“Cool, you wanna tell me more about that?”

“Not really.” Sammy could remember years of comforting the barely sane creatures that came to him for guidance. Back then, he’d been the most stable creature around. Now, well, Sammy was glad to have the luxury of being the lost sheep, coming to others for guidance and community. Plus, Susie surely realized that the church would play music, and he still wanted to test her comfort level with it. His little bird being afraid of music seemed just perverse to Sammy, and he wanted to know just how bad the damage was.

"Okay, then. I'll go," Susie said. Good. And hopefully she'd fucking enjoy it.

---

Sunday morning rolled around. Susie had been rather uncomfortable coming to Sammy's church, being that she had strong suspicions about why he wanted to take her there, but once she was there she saw no real reason for it. It was a fairly standard church, full of friendly old people that Sammy introduced her to. Of course, Susie knew there would be music, and she was ready for that. As the service began and the choir began to sing, she focused on the visuals in the room, averting her eyes from anything with an angel on it. It still made her tense, but she was managing. Then, her eyes landed on Sammy's face. He had been staring right her, studying her, just like he had that one night. She realized that she looked rather distressed and spent about a second trying to fix that before she got up and left.

Sammy followed behind her. “Susie, what's wrong?”

"Why don't you guess? You already have your theories, don't you?"

"It's the music, isn't it?"

"No, it's you!" she snapped.

Sammy could tell they were in for a fight. “Maybe we should talk elsewhere.” He’d hate for the other churchgoers to overhear them fighting, especially if Susie had figured it out.

“Fine. We’ll talk at home. Should we go back in there?”

“Are you going to break down because of the music?” Sammy felt like the father of a petulant daughter.

“I'll be fine,” she growled.

And she was. Grumpy, but fine. No worse than uncomfortable when there was music. The church service was fairly average, which for this church meant quite pleasant, though Sammy would have liked to stay at the end to talk to the other churchgoers. Ah, just like old times, Sammy thought, Susie going into theatrics and taking it out on whoever’s closest. Which just so happens to be me.

After they got home, Sammy asked, “Okay, where were we?”

“I was going to tell you that it wasn’t the music. Yes, it does make me uneasy because of ink-related craziness, but what really upset me back there is that you have been... I don’t know... testing me about it. Did you think I couldn’t tell? I’m not stupid, Sammy, and I don’t appreciate you making weird plans like that instead of talking to me, alright? I'm not your daughter. I'm not for you to go planning stuff behind my back like in the you did in the forties. Alright? I need you to respect me.”

“Alright, I hear you.”

Susie sighed. “Okay. I’m sorry for overreacting. Is that everything? I'm sorry I didn't just tell you about this when I first suspected you were testing me.”

“Well, I guess I would like to know if you're planning to get back into music.”

“I don’t know. Probably. I mean, who am I without it? But not right now. Sorry. Voice acting I definitely still wanna do, though." There was a pause, and a heavy sigh. "Sammy, have you ever read 1984?"

“Yes, decades ago."

"I know that music is a lot of what we had in common. I just hope we're not like Julia and Willson after room 101- too damaged to still love each other. And it'll be all my fault since you don't seem to be having hardly any trouble with this at all."

A part of Sammy was honestly just relieved he was apparently hiding it so well. "Actually, Susie, I'm struggling a lot. When I first came out, I was pretty much jumping at shadows. Even now, going anywhere new is pretty hard for me. And there's a reason why I'm just as tired as I was back when Joey was working me to death. I have a lot of trouble getting to sleep, and when I do, I have some pretty ugly nightmares. It is kind of like you said- I don't really know who I am anymore. Am I the person I became in that dimension, or am I the person who helped ink everyone in the first place? Neither of them are very good people, and I know I'm not exactly like either of them. I guess, we just have to be the best version of whoever we are now."

"I guess you're right. I might have a solution to the sleeping thing, though. I know that you aren't normally one for sleeping together, but, well, my sister's dog started crawling in with me when I was having nightmares, and that helped me. We could try it."

"Sure," Sammy said. It was mostly to indulge her. He remembered the nights they'd slept together in the 40s, before Susie was put away. Of course, then it was because she was freezing cold due to being made out of ink. Sammy would have refused her, but he half suspected that that was half the reason they were even still together. The two of us sleeping together because ink-related issues. Nothing ever changes.

---

Alice Angel turned on the record player. "Sing," she ordered, letting Susie into the forefront of her consciousness.

Susie blinkered awake. She wasn't really in the mood to fight. She got up anyhow, intent on finding a knife.

Alice took back control immediately and sat back down. "Don't you even think about it. Do that, and I'm popping the eyeballs of the next ink creature we get in here, and you'll have to watch. Now, sing. I need your voice to hit the high notes." Alice restarted the record and allowed Susie back out. Susie began to sing. It was the Alice Angel theme song- one of her headmate's favourites. After she'd gone through it a couple times, she got up. Alice didn't seem to try to stop her. Susie kept singing, as though doing so would keep her placated. She didn't know what was going on, but she wasn't about to waste the opportunity it presented. Her voice caught on the high notes as her breath grew unstable. She made her way to the tool drawer, retrieved a kinfe, and began cutting through the ropes that were holding a captive Edgar in place. She could barely hear the music of the record player now, and she was more muttering the words under her breath than singing them. Her hands were so tense she could barely handle the knife.

The knife flew into the Edgar's eye socket, and Susie was thrown out of her locus of control. The creautre wailed and writhed in agony. "You were never in control, Susie. Remember that. Even when I let you control certain parts of us, you're never in control."

Of course, that wasn't true. There were times when Susie took control by force. Still, she felt utterly helpless. And without a body to pilot, she couldn't even curl up and cry.

Susie woke up with wet eyes. She touched the gloxinia plant she kept beside their bed. It felt green. Its velvety petals felt purple. She felt her pulse (as useless a feature as that had seemed), and it felt red. Then, she felt Sammy beside her, also struggling with a nightmare. She snuggled into him, calming him down. Everything was fine now. It was all over.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #susie campbell #sammy lawrence #sammy x susie #my fanfiction #Like it Never Happened

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destination-despairing · 4 years

Text

@nonbinarydisaster and I spent a whole week together which resulted in a lot of fic ideas, mostly a lot of "what if Izuru was baby and felt stuff and also we loved him?" fic

I wrote this up quick and messy and I'm planning on writing more of the fic ideas we had so I didn't put too much effort into editing here, hopefully I can get some more posted in a bit (one of which is a companion piece to this from the other pov) but until then have a ficlet

It was hard adjusting to the fact that he was now two people in one body.

At first he'd assumed that Izuru would just go away, that it was just a personality brainwashed into him by the talent

project that he would heal from. He hadn't expected Izuru to stick around, and to stake his claim over half of everything

Hajime was.

"I never asked to be born," Izuru remarked sardonically, one time that Hajime had been frustrated by sharing his body.

It was a fair point, if anything Hajime was fairly responsible for Izuru's creation and as much as the dead-eyed Ultimate Ultimate scared and infuriated him, it just wouldn't be right to evict him. It would be like killing him,

and Hajime had had enough of killing.

So they shared, and it took a lot of getting used to, at least on Hajime's side.

Izuru seemed to have no problems whatsoever, just butting in whenever he wanted to be out, and providing an unwanted commentary in the back of Hajime's head, just to disappear when he was needed. Hajime had to learn how to send him away, or deal with waking up to a whole new location and a fading sense of overwhelming boredom.

He tucked Izuru away into the back of his head whenever he was a problem, and tried his best to compromise with his new headmate.

Right now he was adjusting to feeling two different things at the same time: his own fatigue, and Izuru's restlessness.

"It's two in the morning," Hajime groaned, still pacing, pausing only to look at his exhausted reflection as he passed the mirror.

"What's wrong with you?"

Izuru didn't answer, but his restless energy remained.

"I'm going to sleep, okay?" Hajime flopped onto the bed, and tried to keep his eyes shut.

I want to go out.

"It's two am."

You're not busy.

Hajime groaned and put a pillow over his face. When he removed the pillow he could see Izuru looming over him.

He wasn't really there of course, just making himself seen.

"You're impossible." Hajime rolled over, intent on ignoring him.

"I'm bored."

"What else is new?"

Izuru's lips twitched ever so slightly into a scowl, before he vanished.

It was like that for days. Hajime trying to get some rest and Izuru immediately demanding he be given a turn at the helm.

And his dreams got weird too. He kept finding himself in a dark, featureless room, sitting on the edge of a bed and staring endlessly at a locked door in front of him. He could feel the days creeping by, and it felt like centuries had passed by the time he woke up, gasping for air.

One night he woke up in his own dark room, and even though he couldn't see him he knew that Izuru was there.

"What?" Hajime groaned.

Izuru remained quiet.

"Look... I have to be up early tomorrow to help Kazuichi in the shop... can I please get some sleep?"

"You mean we have to be up early so I can help Kazuichi."

Hajime's eyes narrowed slightly. "I mean... yeah, your talent but... it's going to be me doing everything."

"Of course," Izuru said. "You get to spend all day with your friends, using my talent to make them like you."

Hajime felt his stomach turn and sat upright in bed. "Hey, that's not... they don't like me for your talent!"

"No, they like you because you're friendly and nice and kind," Izuru replied, and now Hajime saw him as he slid from his perch

on the dresser. "You're the good guy."

"Are you upset about something?" Hajime huffed, almost in disbelief. "Because, last time I checked, you didn't have any feelings."

Izuru's face twisted in anger, his red eyes seeming to glow behind the long dark curtains of his hair.

"I feel," he hissed.

"Yeah, bored and bitchy, that's a wide spectrum."

"I feel anger towards you, Hajime Hinata," Izuru continued, and Hajime could feel that anger seeping into his veins and speeding up his heart.

"What did I ever do to you?" Hajime got out of bed, stood in front of Izuru to confront him. "You're right! I'm the good guy! You're the bad guy! You trapped me in my own head and got my best friend killed!"

There was a sudden stabbing pain in his head, and after a dizzying moment Hajime opened his eyes to see his fist held in front of him. There was glass embedded in the knuckles, and he was bleeding. The mirror in front of him had been shattered, and there were tears running down his cheeks.

"W-what?" he breathed.

"You made me!" he shouted right after, Izuru's voice leaving his throat. "I didn't know anything except what Junko Enoshima taught me, you left me with nothing! I loved her too! I watched her die and that's the only memory I have to keep me company whenever you push me back into that oppressive little room!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Hajime clutched his ruined fist to his chest.

"I didn't trap you anywhere!" Izuru kept raging, and Hajime felt his hands tug wildly at his hair as Izuru struggled to understand and control the emotions he was feeling. "I was just born! I didn't even know you existed! You trap me! Everyday you trap me! You're scared, and ashamed, and you push me back into that room again, and again, and again, and again..."

Hajime felt the tears streaking down his face and tried to untangle his hands from his hair so he could wipe them away.

"That room... the one with the bed and like... nothing else?" Hajime asked. "Wait... are those your dreams?"

Izuru was stubbornly quiet, so Hajime took it as a yes.

"Is that... where they kept us?" Hajime remembered so little of the project. He remembered signing on, packing and going to live at the underground facilities.

He hadn't been allowed to take much, but his room had been nice enough. Or... so he remembered. There'd been a picture of his family on the wall.

Where his memories blurred, Izuru's began. Hajime wondered if maybe one day they could share their pasts the way they shared their combined present and future.

"...yes."

Hajime stood there a moment, waiting for more. When Izuru was silent, he went to get his first aid kit so he could clean up his hand. As soon as his hands touched

the kit he felt Izuru slid into the front seat, almost apologetically offering to do this part for him. Hajime stood to the side and watched with the pain dulled

and far away as Izuru starting pulling glass from their skin.

"You act like you don't remember it, but it's where you send me when I'm not here," Izuru said quietly.

He let Hajime see it, the hours of sitting there in an exact replica of the prison of his birth. Sometimes dimly aware of Hajime running around with his friends, feeling the island sun on his skin, laughing and groaning and getting tired and feeling satisfied and so much all the time, so much feeling.

And Izuru, stuck in the dark. Sitting stock-still in place as though surrounded by blades that would impale him if he moved an inch. Staring at the locked door.

"Are you... scared?" Hajime asked.

Izuru froze, almost finished bandaging the wound. When he recovered he finished quickly, and then slid back to his spot in their shared mind. Hajime tried to call out

to him, but when it was clear he was done talking he just tried to get some sleep.

Izuru was surprised to feel the tug of a summon when Hajime was clearly alone in his room. There didn't seem to be anything he needed help with, but he was bored

and anything that surprised him was worth a look.

"I'm sorry." Hajime was looking into the remains of his shattered mirror. "I haven't been sharing. I guess I'm still a little scared of you, but... if you're scared of me too then maybe we need to rethink things a bit."

Izuru watched from Hajime's eyes, silently.

"You could have this room, you know," Hajime continued, gesturing around himself. "If... you have to go somewhere when you're not here, then why not this room instead?"

"... you'd have to alter your very subconciousness," Izuru told him. "You can't offer something you can't give."

"I'll work on it, okay?" Hajime promised. "I'll find a way to make your living space better. I'll share what I have... so long as you're honest with me about what you need."

Izuru was silent a moment, and Hajime thought maybe he'd left. But then he spoke again.

"... thank you."

#fic #sdr2 #despair arc #izuru kamukura #hajime hinata #sorry im on mobile cause my computer is dead so everything is messy #long post

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ratjamtime · 4 years

Text

Two Way Street

Also on AO3 and Fanfic

Shadow was a closed off mind, quiet and mysterious. Sonic was an open mind, a book full of pages and pages. Shadow found that Sonic's mind was rather interesting, the other hedgehog's highs being clearly high and the lows devastatingly low. It was almost saddening how high of a pedestal Sonic placed himself on when he was just one little hedgehog.

Well. Not anymore he supposed, their two minds tangled like a ball of yarn. They spent many nights ignoring sleep by unraveling their thoughts and soon the difference was more distinguishable. Shadow instantly raised mental walls, refusing to let Sonic know what he was thinking unless it was necessary. Sonic however was a flood of ideas, cascading into their shared head, not even hesitating to at least try and act on these thoughts. Shadow always retained him, not wanting to look weak. It was a little disappointing when he stopped trying to initiate physical contact with his friends.

It felt a little weird to know Sonic's mind was right there, open to be cracked like an egg. Shadow had spent most of his life playing mental chess except with… No, no, no more showing weakness, not in front of Faker. He had shown enough already and the hedgehog's pity flooding him constantly was sickening. And then there were the blue one's responsibilities. Leave it to the Doctor to force Shadic to leave bed.

Shadic didn't understand how the Doctor Egghead had recovered so quickly from the ARK Incident. If anything, he should be as recluent to fight as Shadic was! At least most of the mad scientist's forces were easily crushed, crushed like a soda can. "Shadic!" the kitsune called out to the one person duo. "We need to get to Station Square! That's where Eggman and his giant machine is!" Shadic frowned but nodded, metal crumpling under their foot. With a speed boost, they were carving through the layers of badniks like a knife through hot butter. They slowed for a minute, needing to recharge again before bursting. Shadic froze at the sound of a person. They wheeled around to spy a family of sheep on top of an overturned minivan in a sea (sea, sea, sea, sea, SEA-) of badniks. They move to help them but hesitate. Why aren't they helping?! Can't they see those people are in trouble?! Yes, but wouldn't it be easier to just eliminate the source? One of the children slips on their isle and nearly falls into the rising waters (water, water, water, WATER) of machines, bleating in panic. Their mother cries out and grabs them, pulling them back into her grasp. There's no time! They have to get those people out before they're seriously hurt, but the Doctor would probably get further away, but these people are in trouble NOW, but the best way to help was, NO, HE COULDN'T JUST STAND TO THE SIDE, THEY'LL DIE, HE'LL FAIL AGAIN, NOT AGAIN, NO. 7The sheer panic in their mind shocked them into action, a well aimed kick sending the motobugs flying. "It's safe, come on down," Shadic assured, smiling comfortingly. The family inched down the overturned car, the two hogs for the price of one helping every step of the way. "Thank you." the mother said gratefully, pressing a hoof to their shoulder before leaving for shelter with her family. Shadic allowed themself to bask in that feeling of success before kicking themself into gear, boosting long recharged.

Eggman seemed to be surprised when Shadic burst on the scene. "Sonic?" he questioned, raising a hairy eyebrow up his bald skull. "No and yes. Shadic for now." the fusion responded in clipped replies. After what happened earlier, they had put a tighter grip on their emotions. Eggman just stared at them for a second. "Oh." Eggman shrugged. "Still gonna kill you." The Dragoon Robot burst to life, drills whirling and lasers firing. Shadic sighed. They just wanted to sleep…... A drill dived down, Shadic barely able to move in time to avoid his ear getting sliced clean off. A spear of pure, rippling, purple chaos energy appeared in the hedgehog(s)' open palm before it slammed shut, Shadic grabbing the drill's wire and slashing down on the drill, the repurposed tool cut clean in half. They didn't waste a second to leap up onto the drill's arm, another spear bursting to life in their hand. Shadic raced up the wired arm, weaving past lasers and other drills, all in a mad scramble to quickly reach the cockpit. They weren't fast enough to avoid the metallic claw, that immediately pinned them up against a skyscraper. They hissed, already feeling bruises form under their fur. "OHOHOHO!" Eggman howled. "I have you now! I'll eliminate with you and finally-" "For Chaos' sake, will you just kill us already?" "Wha- " Eggman faltered, arms falling from their dramatic posture. "What?" Shadic stares at the oversized man with an angry and tired expression. If this was Sonic, it would be said with a teasing lit in his voice in an attempt of angering the man and getting more time, but this is not Sonic and so the words carry the burden of a boy with a mountain of regrets. Their eyes beam red as they dangle from the tyrantic man's grasp and somehow it feels like Eggman is trapped with them and not the opposite. "You heard me," Shadic growls out. "You go on and on about how you're gonna destroy us but you never do. You threaten and demand but you can never pull the trigger, can you?" Eggman goes to respond but is stopped by Shadic, a cascade that once started seemed to overflow. "And why? You've never hesitated before, not in that shabby little hole you called a lab and not now in your flying fortresses. You've never been afraid to bloody your hands so what's one more life? What's two? Think about it, you can eliminate the problem before it begins if you just kill us." Shadic wasn't even sure of half of what they were saying. It sounded right but they weren' around for that….. At least, half of them weren't. "So what are you waiting for? Why are you hesitating, hm? You don't care about us, you don't care about anyone!" Shadic could feel themselves crying but their thoughts were pounding in their head like hammers, they couldn't focus. "Why don't you just do something right for once and KILL ME?!" Silence ruled the square, only Shadic's shaky breaths heard. The claw pulled itself free, Shadic automatically catching themself as they fell. "Okay, WOW," Eggman said, rubbing his eyes. "Clearly you still are reacting to these last few adventures. I'll give you some time to rest because, Light Gaia, do you need it. I'll be back with a really evil plot, until then, GET SOME HEALTHY COPING MECHANISMS, sheesh." The robot rolled away, Shadic too shell shocked to do anything. Their face was still wet. They heard the sounds of fur cutting through air and stood up, not facing Tails. "Shadic? What happened?" the eight year old asked. "We're going for a walk." Shadic said quietly. "We'll give you a full update when we get back." "Shadic, wai-" they didn't stick around to hear the rest of Tails' sentence, already gone.

Shadic ran into a tree, gasping as the full force of what they said to Eggman hit them.

Shadow's thoughts darted around but somehow it still felt emptier than usual.

Faker, I- the thought ended as they hit a wall. Shadow buzzed with displeasure and confusion. What had happened? Why couldn't he feel Sonic?

He pressed a tentative thought to their mind, feeling it bump off a….. wall? Sonic knew how to do that? Well, he supposed the quiet was appreciated.

It wasn't appreciated, not at all, it was too quiet and too loud and, wow, Shadow forgot how his mind could spiral sometimes. He had no idea the blue hog had been keeping him so grounded throughout all of this. Shadow pressed against the wall again, the resistance being an almost midnight blue feeling. What had gotten into the other? Why had he closed up? Was it what just happened? Oooooh, why didn't he take advantage of Sonic's open mind and at least look for common weakness of Sonic's foes? He couldn't reach the other, not like this. If he wanted to get to the bottom of this, he had to...he had to… he had to lower his guard. Shadow shuddered, only once, before slowly loosening his defenses, his thoughts cascading out into the space. Shadow pressed against Sonic's wall, testing its strength. Whoa. This was gonna be harder than he thought. Faker? the thought echoed. Sonic? Listen, I… I'm sorry about forcing you to say all that stuff. Nothing. Sonic, look, I- Ugh, I can't do this without you. This is a two man operation. I'll promise to be a better headmate or whatever, just tell me what's going on. The border shuddered, as if Sonic was considering it. I just, I just want to help. The wall didn't move and Shadow feared he'd sent the wrong message before- The wall slammed down and a cascade of melancholy blue washed over concerned red. Sonic's thoughts echoed memories of failure after failure; a white glove missing the falling hand of a terrified man, screams silenced by water's cold embrace, a hedgehog that looked like a star but was determined to plummet like a comet. Now, Shadow was clearly in the 'Doesn't deserve forgiveness and should have been left for dead' camp so it kinda stung how Sonic considered this thought process was his fault or responsibility. Oh no, this mess was all Shadow. Stupid 'hog and his stupid thing for saving people. You can't save everyone. I should at least try. Oh, there's the issue. And honestly, it was a little annoying how familiar it was. You did. You did your best and next time- Next time, what, you'll burn up in the atmosphere, completely convinced there's nothing worth living for and that you don't deserve forgiveness for manipulation? Um. No. Shadow winced. Sonic and his big heart, darn it. Next time, you'll have me and knowledge from past experiences to help you. Sonic was quiet before softly saying, Really?

Shadow tried not to get sucked into a memory of the past. He may be opening up but he wasn't ready for that part just yet. Yeah. But don't make me regret it, Faker. Heh...I won't.

...wanna get some chili dogs? Hmmm, I'd prefer burgers. Oh, what about Sloppy Joes? What are those? Oooooh, boy, you're gonna love this….

#silver back at it again with the need for validation #shadic the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #Miles Tails Prower #doctor eggman #eyes like broken christmas lights

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yukiwrites · 5 years

Text

Byleth, Closer to the Truth

Thanks for the support as always, @xpegasusuniverse! It’s amazing how much worldbuilding three houses had ;v;) it’s so good to explore it all!

Summary: Byleth asked Hanneman to aid him in his pursuit of knowledge, but there was TOO MUCH that the crestologist knew that the young Professor did not, so Byleth had to actually catch up in his own studies to be able to discuss things in equal terms with Hanneman. However, the more Byleth learned, the bigger were the questions forming inside of him, as well as the discomfort such things brought Sothis... could it all be connected?

Commission info HERE and HERE!

______________________________

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15

Enlisting Hanneman into his personal group (consisting of Byleth himself and the voice in his head, Sothis) dedicated to uncovering the secrets of the Heroes' Relics was truly an astounding idea.

Although the older Professor demanded much knowledge Byleth never had in first place to even start a proper discussion, Hanneman's insightful questions truly spurred Byleth and Sothis to seek more answers to millennia-long questions.

Since the Relics were weapons that could only be wielded by crest-bearers, they fell into Hanneman's area of expertise -- meaning that the crestologist knew by heart all of their names, related crests, original wielders and general location. Byleth, on the other hand, knew no such thing, so Hanneman's lecture was taken to heart.

Areadbhar, the lance that once belonged to Blaiddyd of the Ten Elites, lay inside the Royal Palace of Fhirdiad, guarded to be used only by its King. The Crusher of the Dominic crest was also back in Faerghus, though thankfully those were the last two Relics located in the Kingdom to yet come to Byleth's hands.

The Aegis Shield, the Lance of Ruin, Lùin and Thunderbrand were all within the Professor's grasp, alongside the Alliance's Freikugel and Thyrsus. Byleth held onto six out of the twelve Relics in existence, and that was the most a single person possessed in over a thousand years.

"But... twelve?" The Professor mumbled as he stared at the open book in front of him. Wasn't that strange, though? There were twelve documented Heroes' Relics (their whereabouts varying from 'unseen since the Heroes' War' to 'being guarded by a noble house'), though only Ten known Elites, plus the Sword of the Creator, supposedly handed by the goddess herself.

Hanneman mentioned that Maurice had been the eleventh Elite back in the day, though he had been banished for being consumed by his Crest, so the math added up on that account.

But what about Seiros and Four Saints?

If they were the ones closest to the goddess, it should've been natural for Her to bestow Relics to them as well, yes?

However, that didn't seem to be the case. Seiros and the Saints were only known to use a different kind of legendary weapon, dubbed Sacred Weapons by the church. Their whereabouts were documented by ancient texts, which informed the reader that all Sacred Weapons were supposedly buried alongside their original wielders under the monastery: inside the Holy Mausoleum.

'Why supposedly?' one might ask. The answer was simple: Inside Seiros' tomb lay the Sword of the Creator, not her sword neither her shield. What's more -- Byleth also had two Sacred Weapons in his possession, the Spear of Assal and the Caduceus Staff, originally Saint Cichol and Saint Cethleann's weapons respectively.

The place Byleth found them at couldn't be farther from the monastery: on a remote island far from the Central Church's grasp, inside the tomb of a woman completely unrelated to the Saints if only that she was a devout follower of the religion. Flayn and Seteth considered that place special to them and were the ones to bestow the weapons to Byleth, alongside a very distinguished detail regarding their family bonds.

Though Byleth informed Hanneman of the Sacred Weapons in his possession, he of course refrained from repeating secrets entrusted to him.

"Your mind has been wandering and wandering... each second farther away from the text in front of you." Sothis mentally poked Byleth's shoulder, making the Professor blink back into reality.

"Ah, that's true," he shook his head in a vain attempt to shoo away the boredom that came with reading any heavily worded text that hailed from the church.

The volume in question was one of the many tales centered around Saint Macuil. As were the other seven books stacked right beside it, which only made Byleth even less willing to even go through with all that encrypted and salted reading.

Sighing, the Professor resigned himself to going back to studying, his thirst for answers winning over his unwillingness to read.

Although the origins of the Heroes' Relics was unknown, the Sacred Weapons properly hailed from a documented place; or person, for that matter: Macuil was an accomplished blacksmith, rumored to use his skills to craft weapons for Seiros' army. One could only assume that the Sacred Weapons were made by Macuil's hand.

Yet, that wouldn't add up, according to the teachings of Seiros!

How could the Four Saints and the founder of the church herself be left to their own devices in wielding weapons that anyone -- crest-bearer or not -- could brandish while the ten, or rather, eleven humans that followed them were the ones blessed by the goddess with weapons that only those with crests could use?

Humans; the creatures that could be born with crests or not, purely by chance. Humans; against whom the goddess herself fought before these eleven heroes emerged.

Why didn't Macuil forge weapons for the humans, instead? Why weren't there Relics for the Saints?

Even if one inspected the Spear of Assal and the Caduceus Staff, they wouldn't find any trace of the bone-like structures common to the Heroes' Relics. Hell, even the Crest Stone inherent to every Relic apart from the Sword of the Creator was nowhere to be found with the Sacred Weapons!

Of course, since they were weapons anyone could wield, that much was obvious, but still -- why did the Saints wield these considerably weaker weapons as opposed to the much stronger ones their human companions brandished?

Byleth groaned, closing the book loudly. And these texts heavy with parables and metaphors! There was very little one could learn from reading them, even though they were basically the only source of knowledge around anywhere in Fódlan.

Sothis hummed chipperly by his shoulder as Byleth got up from his seat at the library. "Finally gave up, hm? About time! You were not getting any studying done."

Pursing his lips, the Professor took the remaining books, intent on taking them to Hanneman's office rather than his own room -- that was also another boon of having the older Professor in his pursuit of knowledge: proximity to the library.

Not three weeks after Tomas -- no, Solon -- revealed himself to be an enemy of the church, the library managed to remain mostly unchanged. Since there had been a rotating system of students and teachers to take care and oversee the books, the usual library activities could go on as always.

Byleth's mind wandered once again to his headmate, the amount of information he'd absorbed in the past few days overloading his thinking capacity. Hey, Sothis? He looked up as though he could see the girl floating by the ceiling.

She preferred to float beside him, instead, however. "I know that tone..." Sothis crossed her arms and legs in a sigh.

Byleth's head drooped. If you still don't want to talk about it, i won't, but-

"Hahh... Very well. Out with it."

You're... The goddess, right? You have the power to control time and are linked to many places the goddess is said to have been, he started, tentatively. Sothis bobbed her head to the sides.

"So we are to believe, according to Rhea's words at the start of this month. Sothis, also known as The Beginning -- I identify with both aliases, as does the goddess. However, I am not up there in an imaginary heaven; I am bound here with you by something beyond my current understanding. Am I simply a part of the goddess? The conscience one calls 'self'? If so, is that the reason why I bear the appearance of a child? Because whatever bound me to you could not harness the vastity of my power, only managing to tap my sense of self instead?" She asked in a serious voice, then sighed, her small shoulders sagging. "I cannot give you the answers you seek, young one. However, I AM grateful that you are going through such lengths for my sake -- or at least for the sake of having your own mindspace for yourself." She sneered, visibly tired.

Such exhaustion bled into Byleth himself, making the task of simply going from the library to Hanneman's office a most strenuous one. I just want to help you regain your memories, and I feel that all of this is connected...

Sothis chuckled, mentally patting Byleth on the head. "Thank you for this, Byleth. Good luck when you go through that door, however. Hanneman seems to be eager in drawing your blood to check your crest in depth."

"Ugh," it was Byleth's turn to groan, throwing his head back in regret. Hanneman had mentioned that he wanted to do a thorough physical check-up on Byleth and compare it with the pulse they felt coming from the Relics, after all, so Byleth couldn't run.

He himself wanted the answers, so subjugating himself in a mostly harmless experiment or two was a good enough price to pay for answers.

"Ghk- W-what did you-" Sothis winced, curling around herself before entirely disappearing from Byleth's sight. "What was this thought?!" She huffed, as though in pain.

Byleth's legs gave out as he loudly crumpled on the stone floor, scattering books and scrolls about. "S-Sothis?" he panted, a sharp pain twigging his chest. He clutched it with one hand, pressing his forehead against the cool stone to regain his breath.

"Experiment...? What- what is this terror engulfing my entire being?" Sothis cried, her very soul trembling to the point of translating it to Byleth's body. "Did I- go through such a thing in the past? What IS this?" She sobbed a cry without tears, her voice slowly disappearing as she succumbed to a forced slumber.

Sothis? Byleth called in his mind, his body still too weak to stand. "Sothis?" He mumbled, realizing his breath was coming back. "She must've gone to sleep..." he huffed, forcing himself to sit up.

Dizzy, he could barely hold his head up, choosing to lean it on a nearby wall. There were many incongruences and discrepancies with Sothis' memories and real world events.

She wrote a song only Rhea knew of; She, supposedly the goddess, lived in a place that the goddess destroyed in her rage; She bestowed weapons of fine quality 'materials' to humans and feared being experimented on-

"Wait," Byleth widened his eyes, his hands patting his own self in search of the Sword of the Creator hanging by his hip. Upon touching it, the sword glowed red, its bone-like structures warming Byleth's hand as though he touched a person's body. Yes... as though it was someone's flesh and bones.

Were... were the Heroes' Relics part of Sothis' body from the time she was alive? Was that the reason the goddess de facto disappeared from the records? Because she tore her own bones and flesh apart to help the Saints and the Men win the war?

Sothis conjectured herself just a few minutes ago: her childlike appearance to Byleth's eyes could simply be because that whoever channeled her conscience to him didn't manage to capture her entire essence. It was also known that the Children of the Goddess could transform into Magic Beasts, so if the goddess herself could change into a form so large she could rearrange her own bones into weapons, this theory could hold some truth into it...

Still dizzy, but with his mind racing with the prospect of learning more about the Relics, Byleth dragged himself up to his feet after painstakingly picking up the books and scrolls from the floor. "This all might be just my tired brain throwing whatever it can at me, but I feel that... somehow, I'm on the right track." The Professor nodded to himself, dragging one shoulder across the wall to help him walk.

If possible, he wanted to bring this up with his father, as well, once Jeralt was released from whatever duties Rhea had him go through. They would meet at the end of the month for their shared mission, yes, but this wasn't something Byleth could simply bring up to his father right before a battle, after all.

"All this reading and thinking only brought more questions, but I'm on the right track. We're on the right track, Hanneman, Sothis." He mumbled before stepping inside the crestologist's office for yet another afternoon of studying and experimenting.

#byleth #hanneman #sothis #fire emblem three houses #fe 3h #my writings #yuki's commissions

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agayworthfightingfor · 6 years

Note

do all the space asks!!!!

pluto: what do you love most about yourself?

i like that a bunch of people think i’m calming to be around. it’s a very good thing to be.

mars: who is your ideal best friend?

@f0xf0ce. i no longer id as pansexual, but we are forever pansexual partners in crime.

earth: what’s your ideal house/home?

decent sized place with friends and partners, in easy walking distance of a convenience store and something moderately fun to do, at the very least. needs space for pets (i desperately want a big dopey dog) and really good lighting. ok now i sound like im on fucking hgtv or some shit wow.

saturn: what’s your aesthetic?

tumblrina punk, which is also my blog title. basically its what happens when u combine flower crowns, glitter, spiky things, and a deep hatred of people who would do others harm.

jupiter: if you could choose your own name what would it be?

i did choose my own name but if i picked again id probs wind up picking it again even though my headmates are all desperately shouting their own goddamn names. especially owen. zie really wants this body to be named owen. i wonder why.

neptune: what’s an album that you can listen through entirely w/o skipping song?

shape shift with me by against me! sometimes i can do a fever you cant sweat out by p!atd but sometimes i get bored of the introduction and intermission and skip those. i can

venus: go to piece of clothing/outfit?

ok theres two outfits that are my defaults. my too cute to be binary shirt w/ my floral skirt + combat boots, plus tights in winter. then there’s my black tank top under my red/white flannel shirt with skinny jeans and my floral converse.

mercury: what’s something you couldn’t live without?

hrt. which.. i currently dont have. and need to figure out how to manage an accessibility issue in order to acquire. lmao fuck

uranus: what’s your zodiac sign?

pisces but like certain things say im an aquarius because im on the veeeery cusp. which is bullshit, anyone whos ever talked to me knows im a goddamn pisces

the moon: favorite quote?

“Blood does not quench fire. It only stains.” from Chameleon Moon by @thesylverlining. which if you havent read it you need to. now. go. get it.

the sun: what motivates you?

the fact that nazis want me and everyone i care about dead and i refuse to ever make a nazi happy.

kepler-22b: if you could go anywhere, where would it be/why?

uh? somewhere where i have partners. ppl i care about. anywhere except this fucking room.

phobos: what was your favorite song as a child?

uuuuum? i genuinely dont know. i remember really liking boulevard of broken dreams by green day when i was like 11 because i was a depressed gay child.

ceres: out of everyone/thing in this world, who would you elect president?

um. thats a big decision. theres genuinely no one i can think of who i would trust with that much power. no.

titan: if you could die your hair absolutely any color and pull it off, what would it be?

i have already dyed my hair most colors that i would ever dye it. id totally go for rainbow though. or like... light pink? esp if i could keep up with it so that my roots never showed and it never faded, that’d be HEAVENLY

callisko: what’s your ideal job?

honestly i really want to just stay home and take care of housework? im good at that stuff. i can keep things clean, i would be able to work on my own terms, and if im living with the right people i would basically never have to wear pants.

enceladus: who is your favorite person? what are they like?

i don’t have like a favorite person in the sense of I Am Extremely Attached To This Person In A Mental Illness Way. which is weird for me tbh. im like... dancing with that kind of attachment to @thenannystate which is an adventure that id really like to not subject her to, thank you very much hellbrain? but shes so smart and sweet and she cares a LOT and like. she holds a hell of a grudge which kinda functions as a reality check for me bc i like. instantly forgive terrible people which is Bad. and just. she’s sO FUCKING GOOD I LOVE FRANZ A LOT

hyperion: do you have a favorite store/shop?

lowkey if hot topic cut their prices in half theyd be my fav but they’re so. fuckin. overpriced. otherwise, maybe thinkgeek.com or something like that

comet: what’s your biggest secret?

...gee i love oversharing but damn thats a hell of a question. the biggest secret im willing to divulge is that im into oviposition but that’s not even a fucking secret at this point lets be real

astroid: what’ your biggest fear? i there a reason why you’re scared of it?

rejection/abandonment. yes there is a reason and that is because i grew up a total outcast and now im not and i will never ever ever ever go back to that hell of being alone nope no thanks

shooting star: who is your ideal s/o?

the xenomorph.

#Anonymous

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1ff · 7 years

Text

The Society of Multiples, chapter 5

Second draft of my story about an alternate world where almost everybody is multiple. If you read it, you agree to leave at least two words in response. Constructive criticism welcome. Reblog or the kitten gets it.

Catch up: (Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3) (Chapter 4)

Let me know if you want to be tagged when I update so you don’t miss it ( @nevermindbinarity ) or search for the tag #thesocietyofmultiples

This update was difficult because more than half of it is new material. The first draft had a few missing sections because I figured it was easier to just skip them and avoid the writer’s block, and come back to them later. As a result, this chapter is totally reworked and mostly new, and is probably a little rough.

I’m aro/ace and trying to write a romantic subplot, so this feels very hamfisted to me and I would be grateful for advice.

Chapter 5

I only met a small cross-section of the group that evening; it was apparently an agreed convention that the entire group should never congregate together in the same place at the same time.

Over the next few weeks I got used to the rules of the group, which I assumed were similar for most groups like ours. In public, we were to deny knowing each other. We were to never use private singular names in public. We were to tell no-one that we were singular or that we know anyone who is singular. If any of us were found out, we were to deny knowing anyone in the group. Secrecy was crucial; nobody was in a situation where they could publicly announce their status. It was important not to jeopardize the rest of the group. If you found another singlet, you were to be absolutely sure that they are singular before telling them that the group even exists.

There were codes, like ‘it’s lucky I caught you alone,’ or ‘here we are, just you and I,’ or ‘sorry I’m late, my bicycle has only one tire.’ That one confused me at first, until I realized that a bicycle with only one wheel was a unicycle. There were others, some of them really obscure.

Kane offered me a job at his salon, but after spending a day sweeping and cleaning and watching the stylists and cosmeticians at work, I realized I would never have the dexterity or artistic sensibility to go anywhere in that field. Instead, Eris helped me get a job at a coffeeshop that was run by a friend of hers- an ally in the community, one of the rare multiples who knew about us and helped us out. Her name was Elga, and she was patient with both my initial awkwardness at the espresso machine and my struggles to establish one of my new fake identities, Leo.

I liked Leo; he was the kind of guy I could imagine being friends with. Social and outgoing, quick to smile, good at easing over difficult social situations. Not at all like me, in other words, but it fit the role I needed to play and was different enough from Jonas to be believable. It was exhausting, though. A few times a day I had to step into the back room and hide among the cases of coffee beans to just breathe and regroup. Elga would just pat me on the back and say, ‘you’re doing great. Fake it ‘till you make it.’

Every night after work, once I’d washed away the disguise from my face and struggled to make myself comfortable on Eris and Kane’s couch, I found myself mulling over my new personal name. I whispered it quietly into the room, letting it sit on my tongue. So short, simple, easy to hide into a spoken phrase or pass off as a meaningless utterance. I could be called it, potentially, in public, carefully, and be unnoticed.

Mem, I whispered at the darkness. Mem, Mem, Mem…

I didn’t see Emma for a few weeks; the groups that got together would rotate invitations, so it was a while before we were together again at a meeting at Eris and Kane’s. She surprised me with a huge smile and a warm hug. I wasn’t used to a lot of physical contact, trying so hard to keep my emotional distance from other people for safety’s sake. After a moment of confusion, I gave in and put my arms around her. I was amazed that such simple physical contact could feel so painful and so pure at the same time.

I caught Eris staring, then smiling, and I sat back down, a bit embarrassed.

Conversation turned to those who were absent; a quieter member of the group, Martin, had information about a member who’d gone missing.

Martin took a sip from his bourbon, leaned forward in his chair. “Samette emailed me a few days ago. She told me that she wanted everyone to know she’s doing fine.”

There was visible relief in the group.

“Unfortunately, from the sounds of it she isn’t really doing that great. Her parents found out about her- remember when she said she was worried that they were starting to catch on? They did.” He took a deep breath. “They enrolled her in therapy. Dispersion therapy.”

There were several looks of shock, disgust, and anger in the room. I’d never heard that term before but I knew exactly what it referred to. I’d heard rumours that it existed, but since few people ever talked about solity, even fewer people knew about the therapies for it.

“It was Samette that contact me, and she still called herself that, so the therapy hadn’t taken- of course. I’ve never heard of it actually working. And she still thought of herself as singular, so they hadn’t succeeded in brainwashing her into thinking she’s multiple. But she definitely sounded like she’d been messed up by the process. She said she wouldn’t contact any of us again, that she wanted to be left alone.” His voice was cracking as he finished. He took a gulp of his drink.

“Maybe she’ll change her mind,” Eris reassured him, putting a hand on his arm and handing him a box of tissues.

I could see Emma was upset as well. She looked over at me, wiping away some tears. “Samette and I are good friends,” she explained.

“I’m sorry,” I told her. “I’d heard about the therapy, but I’ve never known anyone who had to undergo it.”

Emma shook her head. “It’s brutal. I hope none of us ever have to go through it- again.” She glanced over at Nora.

Nora stood up. “It’s important for everybody to remember that people can heal from that experience. It’s brutal and inhumane and I hope one day they stop doing it completely. I’m sure it’s not the last we’ve heard of Samette. Give her time.” She walked off, supposedly to get more snacks, but was visibly struggling to compose herself too.

Victor, who had been fairly quiet all night, cleared his throat.

“I hate to bring this up… but we need to talk about the calling-out portion of her therapy.”

There were a few angry looks in his direction, but Kane just nodded sadly. “Yes. I know it’s not pleasant, but for our own safety, we have to consider the possibility.”

“No,” Martin shook his head forcefully. “Not Samette. She even used a disposable email account and sent the message from a private server in a library. She’d never betray us.”

Eris tried to comfort him. “It’s hard to talk about, but the truth is they might not give her much of a choice. They could have doped her with sodium pentothal and given her electroshocks. She might not even have known what she was saying. If she did say anything about us, it’s not her fault.”

Martin struggled to compose himself. “Those... bastards. What the hell did she even do to anyone? She’s never hurt anyone. She’s just so innocent…” He trailed off, buried his face in his hands.

“If she’d revealed any of us, we’d know by now,” Nora told us, returning to the room with a bottle of wine. “They’d have come knocking on our doors weeks ago. We should all be careful, but I don’t think we have anything to worry about for now.”

“What are we going to do to help Samette?” Martin wanted to know.

“Leave her be for now. In time, we can try contacting her again. See if she’s willing to rejoin us. It’s all up to her. We can’t force her to join us again; that’s the difference between us and them. We let people have free agency.”

After everyone left, Eris and Kane let me decompress and discuss what we talked about, but made me promise to stop and give myself time to process it. I found myself lying awake on their couch, trying not to fall apart in anxiety and fear and confusion.

And on the other hand, I felt bad for the group, especially Martin, who seemed hard hit by Samette’s absence… and I found myself thinking again and again about Emma, and in particular about her smile.

When I had been surrounded by multiples, the idea of any sort of long-term relationship had been completely out of the question. Getting to know anybody too closely would be too huge a risk to take. I’d had a few flings and one-night stands- living in a tourist town was great for that, but had never entertained anything more serious.

Now though, I had her number in my phone, and we ended up texting late into the night.

A few days later, I moved into my new apartment. Eris and Kane helped me out as they promised, and reassured me several times over that I shouldn’t feel any guilt over it. They pointed out that this was exactly what the money had been put aside for; if I felt I needed to repay the favour, I could help them put aside new money for the fund once I settled in. They even helped me purchase and move some second-hand furniture, since I had nothing.

We still got together often, and I couldn’t have created my new set of fake identities without them. We practiced tirelessly; I spent entire days in character, experimented with makeup under Kane’s tutelage, practiced simple trips out into public both to get experience and to judge how well the disguises were working. I had been on the news a few times since I’d met Eris; violent crime was incredibly rare due to the ability of multiples to keep their headmates in check. A potential singlet who was an attempted murderer was big news- not that the newscasters ever used the word “singlet” or discussed the possibility; they mostly just referred to Jace/Rhonda in the singular and talked about them having some sort of vague mental illness. I wasn’t sure how many people on the street watched the news and decoded this kind of talk. Every time I heard about it though, I cringed.

One job for one identity was not enough; few people had jobs that required them to work more than three days a week, since anything more than that would be unfair to the other identities of a system. So when Leo wasn’t working at the coffeeshop, I found a job for “Jeff” as a line cook in a diner just outside of downtown. It was perfect; limited interactions with other people, detail oriented. They paid under the table and didn’t ask questions about me or my past. Fake beards were in style, and Kane taught me how to apply one convincingly. It was a very quick and easy disguise that didn’t resemble any of my previous fakes. Best of all, it was a relief from the pressure of being Leo.

About a week after the move, I got a text from Emma: ‘Want to catch a movie tonight?’

I found myself fidgeting. I put the phone down, made a cup of tea, looked at the message again, put away some dishes. Finally I worked up the courage to reply. ‘I thought we were supposed to avoid interacting outside of meetings?’

‘Fine then. How about we set up a date for someone else to see a movie tonight?’

We started seeing each other regularly after that, myself as Jeff and her as her fake headmate Mike in public. We kept that consistency between them; it was uncommon for multiple headmates to form relationships between different members across systems. It simplified things for us, too. We didn’t mention it to anyone else in the group, though I’m sure at least Eris and Kane figured it out.

Things sort of settled into a pattern, a sense of normalcy that made the past seem furthur and furthur away. Jace/Rhonda showed up less and less on the news. People were hopefully starting to forget my previous faces; when they showed up on newspapers at the checkout stand it was more often in the context of “Whatever happened to Jan, Eron, and Tigh?”

Sometimes it kept me up at night, though.

There was that one night, while she was sleeping peacefully on my second-hand bed, that I got up to get some water and I noticed that the TV was still on. Apparently I’d only muted it when she’d distracted me and we decided to entertain ourselves in other ways.

I was reaching for the remote when I saw my own face staring back at me. I stared back for a moment, slack-jawed, and then the screen changed to a view of talk-show host Amy talking to the camera.

I very carefully turned the volume up, just enough to hear what she was saying, hoping that it was still quiet enough to not wake Emma.

“-six months now since the incident at Lake Victor,” she was saying. “Jace/Rhonda are still being held and the trial is in a quagmire, due in part to the continued disappearance of Eron. Today we have a special guest, Winnie, who was Jace’s target that day. Thank you for coming to be on the show, Winnie.”

I was shocked to see her again- she looked good, but obviously overwhelmed. I wasn’t sure whether it was the events of her life in general now or being on the show in particular, but she looked like she’d been through a lot.

They rehashed events; Winnie talked about how Jace and Rhonda had both approached her a few times but she hadn’t really thought much about it, hadn’t realized that she was being stalked, that Jace was obsessed with her. She told Amy about being on the path, about hearing a struggle and suddenly realizing that someone had been pointing a gun at her in the middle of the woods.

They talked about Eron. Winnie looked into the camera and pleaded again that he come forward and help put the case to rest.

“It was you, wasn’t it?”

I was so startled I nearly fell over. Apparently the TV hadn’t been quiet enough; Emma was standing in the doorway.

“You saved that girl, didn’t you? You’re Eron.”

I nodded, catching my breath. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell the group?”

I sighed. “It’s like Nora says… sometimes the less we know about each other, the better. I didn’t want to share information that might put anyone in the group in danger.”

“Sure, I suppose. You could’ve told me though.”

“I didn’t want to put you in danger, especially. Besides, what does it matter? I’ve intentionally put that life behind me. I don’t want to deal with any of it anymore. I can’t let anyone find me- find them,” I clarified, pointing at faces of Eron, Jan, and Tigh back on the screen. “There would be too many questions. They would scrutinize my life too closely.”

She nodded slowly. “I suppose you’re right. I want you to know you can trust me with this kind of thing, though.”

I turned off the TV, walked over to her and held her. “I trust you. I didn’t mean to keep it a secret. I just wanted it all to go away.”

She wrapped her arms around me. “For what it’s worth,” she admitted grudgingly, “you’re really handsome as Eron. Sort of dark and mysterious.”

I laughed. “You might not think so if you met him. He’s kind of... abrassive.”

She smiled, and led me back to bed.

As I lay down next to her, I watched her close her eyes and drift off to sleep. My eyes adjusted to the faint streetlamp glow. She was stunning; she seemed so beautifully androgynous without makeup or wigs or clothing, with her short hair and the simple lines of her face revealed. I’d seen very few people before in plainface; even during sex it was an anathema to be seen with that kind of nudity. For a multiple, it would be like surgically removing flesh. They didn’t wear disguises; they applied makeup as their own faces.

We were the lowest layer, the bedrock of self, the simplest, plainest level of identity revealed. Maybe that’s why we were so hated; we were so fundamental and raw.

To be with her on that level of honesty and nudity was the most amazing feeling of my life. I wrapped my arm around her and fell asleep smiling.

#thesocietyofmultiples #nanowrimo #ronin ellis #multiplemademedia #multiplicity

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halavert · 5 years

Text

Night Fishing.

The night was dark; dark enough at least. The moon was gone, and for once she felt as though she couldn’t as easily be seen creeping through the silent monastery grounds. Despite the fact she had her fishing rod, she still preferred not to be caught; not that wishing for that had done her much good a few days earlier when she had tried to vanish from the monastery and into the woods beyond without anyone’s notice. That had very much failed, although she hadn’t been dragged back to her room screaming by the guards, who would have alerted Lady Rhea to her attempt. Instead it had been him, of course, it had been him.

Tonight she was hoping that if she were caught once more, it would be by the hands of the same person. With a sigh she adjusted her fishing rod a bit as she carefully and quietly trekked on, a small shiver rushed through her body; the nights were certainly cooler than before. Given the exhaustion and odd waves of dizziness that had frequented her lately, she knew very well she should have been in bed, resting. But sleep was hard to come by when uncertainty rattled every corner of her mind.

“What ever are you doing out and about so late? Not much of a teacher you’ll be if you start falling asleep in the middle of your lectures. Dealing with you is sometimes much like that of trying to handle a stubborn child.” Sothis’s voice rang through her head in clear irritation and exhaustion, not for the first time and certainly not for the last.

Byleth didn’t offer a reply, just shrugged and continued on her way; until a slight trace of movement between the greenhouse and the stairs she was approaching caught her eye. That was all it took to cause her to shuffle over, subtly maneuvering her way into the bushes as to not be seen. She felt like a kid, trying to hide from a parent making rounds to assure their weary mind that their child was very much in bed and not awake playing at such a ridiculous hour.

“Oh, so you’re once more sneaking about like a thief in the night; I do hope you are not planning another escape as you did a few mere nights ago. Nonetheless, here you are, throwing yourself into shrubbery like a prisoner trying to avoid her guards. Which almost seems fitting.”

Byleth had to grit her teeth to stop herself from telling Sothis to shut up, stomach knotting up as she realized the figure passing by was none other than Dimitri himself. She had always known he was one for sleepless nights, but he was perhaps the last person she wished to encounter. Things were already strained of late between her and the students, there was no need to make matters worse, and undoubtedly her late night movements would. She held stock still as she watched him walk towards his part of the dormitories, barely even daring to breathe. Something about him unsettled her, as though there was something underneath the tragically naïve and polite façade the prince put on display. It wasn’t as though she could judge, all things considered. The Ashen Demon was just as much a part of her existence as her new role of professor; everyone had their secrets, and dark sides.

She waited a few minutes after he left before pulling herself from the unfortunate shrubbery, stretching a bit before she resumed her trek to the pond; her awareness of her surroundings now felt piqued upon seeing Dimitri, and she moved with a cautious haste the rest of the way down the steps and to the small pier at the pond, heels of her boots clapping against the stone far more loudly than she would have liked.

A gentle breeze pulled her hair from her face, and carefully she settled down on the edge, feet dangling above the water’s black depths. She pulled the bait from her container, taking extra care to attach it to the hook in the darkness of the evening. Once that was finished, she flicked her wrist back, before jerking it forward to send the line flying. It hit the water with a soft ‘plop’, and from there out all that was left to do was wait.

There was plenty to think about; Remire Village was facing some kind of epidemic, a place that had housed her and her father many a time on their jobs. The people were kind, and the thought of trouble befalling them was no small unpleasantry.

“You somehow believe this tragedy is your fault, do you not? A silly idea, but I must admit I am perturbed by the situation myself. The coincidence is perhaps a bit too much for even one such as myself to swallow. And yet despite all of that, your mind keeps wandering back to that boy. He is not even your student and still you see him more frequently than those whose tutelage you find yourself responsible for. I know that feeling; how long before you finally admit to yourself just what his significance really is?”

“That’s none of your business,” Byleth muttered, giving her line a little tug to test it. Nothing tugged back, so the line was clean.

“What’s none of my business, Teach? Or were you talking to the fish?”

The sound of his voice was enough to make her jump, nearly dropping her rod in the water from surprise. A quick jerk of her head revealed his figure, casually standing beside her with that constant smile, and eyebrow arched. Even in the dark she could tell that. Or perhaps she just felt it.

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear, a charming one indeed.”

Byleth bit her tongue again, a surge of heat hitting her face at the hands of Sothis’s teasing, and his sudden appearance. She had been too distracted by her strange headmate to take notice of his approach; wasn’t that just as it had been the other night?

Claude gave his head a little shake, casually settling himself on the dock beside her, letting one foot dangle as he propped his elbow on the knee of the other. His nonchalance was so strangely disarming; and it kept her intrigue more often than not. “It’s fine, the look of surprise on your face was more than enough to tell me you were probably conversing with our fishy friends. Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

“…You’re fine, I just didn’t hear you walk up,” Byleth admitted softly, reluctantly looking back at the pit of pond before them.

“Wouldn’t be the first time, eh, Teach? I was kind of surprised to see you again the next day; although far from disappointed about it.” His nonchalance was on display again; lightly bringing up a subject she wasn’t sure how to approach herself. Her grip on the fishing rod tightened slightly, and she kept her gaze set on the midnight waters, struggling not to return her attention to him.

“Yes, well. My father is still here after all, on top of a few other things.”

“Jeralt? That’s a good enough reason to stick around, I suppose. You never did explain why exactly you were, um, trying to bail on your archbishop given job. Blue Lions getting a bit much to handle? Miss the old life of a mercenary? As for the former, you wouldn’t have that problem with my house. Don’t worry Teach, I’d keep them in check for you.”

As light and joking as his last sentence seemed, she for some reason believed he would. Disarming; always disarming. She wished something would tug at the end of her line, give her a reason to not even contemplate a reply and focus instead on getting whatever poor fish naively took the bait out of the water.

Instead she found herself heaving a tired sigh, shoulder slumping just a little. “…It isn’t that they’re too much to handle. More along the lines of… I’m not really sure if I’m the one they need. They seem so keen on getting to know me, but, it doesn’t feel right. I think they—and I—would be better off if I wasn’t the one in charge of them.”

“If you wanted to head the Golden Deer, I don’t think anyone would bat an eye. You’re definitely more popular with our group than Professor Manuela. Did you know she came to class drunk two days ago? Ended up snoring on her desk while we all took a self-study day. And by self study day I mean I at least spent the time mixing up a new poison.”

She didn’t dare open her mouth to reply, knowing good and well whatever came out would be regrettable on one front or another. Sothis, held nothing back from the corner of her mind she inhabited. “You do want to be over his class, don’t you? Do not lie to me, I know your heart better than even you.”

“…I think I made a mistake when I chose that house. But it’s a little too late to do anything about it now, even if they can tell,” she muttered in a muted tone. Beside her, Claude held his silence for a rare few moments.

“I had a feeling the whispers had gotten to you. Not that I’m exactly surprised. I know they’re just talk, but I get it.”

The whispers; of course she had heard them talking when they believed she wasn’t within earshot, muttering about how their professor spent more time with a student outside of their class than with any of them, about how odd it was and how perhaps she would be better elsewhere. Dedue had been a little more direct about it, relaying his concern over one Prince Dimitri’s initial rise in mood when she had taken over, and how it had slowly started to drop since something in her attitude had changed. It wasn’t an outright warning or accusation, but Byleth could tell it was meant to be, nonetheless.

All because of how strangely drawn she was to the boy of noble blood at her side. She had caught his glances from the first night they had met; curious and amused, but unafraid, whereas the prince and princess of their respective countries had watched her with wary intrigue. That was the type of stare she was accustomed to. Even upon arrival at the academy, his demeanor hadn’t changed. He remained light and somewhat frivolous in her presence, daring to tease her when others hadn’t, as well as just simply and casually approach her. It was hard not to take notice of that; even harder to not be drawn to it; to him.

That was how the lunches had started; taking her own students had been fine, they had been polite and gracious enough, but never quite unguarded. The silences were awkward and she couldn’t help but feel that was her fault. Until she had crossed paths with Claude one day on her way in; and she had mustered some trace of bravery she didn’t know existed (or that she needed) to ask him to join her. For a moment he had looked surprised, but his easy smile quickly replaced it and he had in jest asked why she hadn’t asked sooner. That was the first lunch she had shared with any student that kept her engaged, his light teasing edging her somewhat out of her usual stoic silence, as she offered a few short and clipped replies, as well as a few sharp looks. Claude didn’t take them personally, though. Instead he seemed to rather enjoy the attention. It was curious to have someone able to bring out a bit of her personality as easily as he managed, and soon enough she found herself asking him regularly to join her. Not once did he turn her down; not once did she feel as though she was a source of discomfort during their meals together; not once did she feel uncomfortable.

Lunches soon evolved into regular conversations outside of the dining hall as well; sometimes she would find him casually waiting for her outside of her classroom or the training hall, and he would walk her to her room, or occasionally their strolls would end up with them in the library, or even the dock of the pond. Time with Claude was easy; it was simple and enjoyable. She always found herself getting lost in those instances. The only issue was, others saw it as well. That was when there had been a shift in the demeanor and atmosphere of her class, and that was when the whispers had started.

She had no one to blame but herself for the disquiet she had left to settle around her class; their feelings of inadequacy they wouldn’t voice directly to her, but toss around amongst themselves without hesitance like a hot potato. But again, it was her fault they didn’t feel comfortable speaking to her about such matters. Even if they did, she wasn’t exactly sure how she would respond. Even some of the staff had started to give her odd looks. So there had come a night when she thought it perhaps best to leave; leave the monastery and the students, before she did more damage.

She had gotten as far as the greenhouse when he had caught her, sliding out of the dark like a cat stepping out of the shadows. That had stopped her, his light, unaccusing tone, casual curiosity as to what she was doing. She hadn’t responded, but the bag slung over her shoulder had been enough of an explanation. What had slipped out of his mouth immediately thereafter was exactly what caused her retreat not long after, back to her room and the confines of the monastery.

“If you go, I’m going with you.”

That was it; that was all it had taken to blow her plans down like a house of cards. He had smiled as he said it, but his eyes were anything but mirthful; bitingly serious and determined. That boy had every intention of following her to the ends of the Earth; and she didn’t understand it one bit.

The end of her line gave a sudden and harsh tug, pulling her back to that late evening and the rod in her hands. She gave a tug back, only to have the line go slack; her bait was probably gone.

“So, is midnight fishing the viable option over running away now, Teach?” Claude teased.

It only took her a few moments to respond, not daring to look over as she did so. “With the right company, yes.”

Claude gave a quiet laugh. “A midnight rendezvous with your favorite student? How scandalous, Teach. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“If you were in my class, I wouldn’t have this problem.”

“You have no idea how much I wish I was. But as it stands, I’ll take what I can get. And if this is what I can get, so be it.”

The need to look over was so compelling she couldn’t fight it; unsurprisingly his vivid green eyes were already settled on her. They were the trap, and she was absolutely snared. “…Why?”

It was Claude’s turn to pause, tilting his head to the side slightly before he spoke again. “C’mon Teach, I know you’re not that oblivious. It’s no fun if I have to spell it out.”

“This boy clearly overestimates your emotional competence. And while you might be an idiot on that front, I certainly am not. He would not be out here this late with you if he did not harbor similar feelings to those you seem so far unsure of how to grasp.”

She liked having him around, his company, his nonchalant demeanor and unabashed interest in her. Next to Jeralt, she had never found another person who had taken to her with so little reserve. She knew she was too quiet and emotionless; odd, and just not quite right, and most people found it off-putting. Not that she blamed them. But Claude had been different; from the very first night in Remire Village she had known that. What had made her choose the Blue Lion house to begin with? It was so hard to remember.

A small shiver rippled through her, and with that Claude shifted to stand up, before holding out his hand. “Alright, Teach. It’s late, and you’re cold, we can continue this discussion tomorrow. Promise.”

She stared at his hand for a moment, before offering a small sigh. It took only a few moments to get her line in and wound, and once that was done, she did reach out and take his hand. With a smile, he gave her a little tug up.

“Oh—“

The feeling hit just as Sothis uttered a small cry of surprise in her mind; the dizziness came in a sudden and harsh wave, and even in the dark, she could see the black spots dotting her vision. With the dizziness came exhaustion, and the sudden awareness her body no longer wanted to support her weight; Byleth felt herself going down, just like she had a week earlier in front of Jeralt.

But this time something caught her, firmly grasping her arm before attempting to steady her. “Teach—“

“…Dizzy.” Was all she could manage, closing her eyes as she tried to get her bearings, but the feeling wanted to persist.

When his voice came again, it was strangely laced with caution, and concern. “Let’s get you back to your room. I knew you looked a little pale lately, even for your standards, but I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

It was hard to object when he pulled her off of her feet and into his arms with a little grunt; she was too exhausted to care, dropping her head against his shoulder as they began to move. He was warm, though, and smelled clean and woody. Her right hand instinctively gripped at the front of his shirt gently.

“Don’t worry about your fishing rod; I’ll go back for it once I get you in bed. I’ll bring it by in the morning. I’d take you to Professor Manuela but there’s no way she isn’t four drinks in and absolutely useless right now.”

She had a feeling Manuela wouldn’t be of much help anyways; and gave her head a little shake against him. In turn, she felt something gently brush against the top of her head.

The rest of the trek to her room went by without incident; the world never seemed to stop rocking the entirety of it, though. And before she knew it, the click of her own door sounded before his footsteps against her wooden floors replaced it. He was gentle when he put her down, but her hold on his shirt remained. His physical contact was suddenly missing, and she… didn’t like that. Something akin to a groan sounded in her throat.

Claude gave a quiet laugh, and she opened her eyes enough to see him move his hand to her head, ruffling her hair a little. He was so terribly close. “Hey, as much as I’d love to stay and keep you company, I do have to go get your rod, remember? Not to mention if anyone found me in your room, those whispers would probably only get worse. I don’t mind personally, but since it bothers you, I do. I’ll come by first thing in the morning to see how you’re doing, okay, Teach?”

Reluctantly, Byleth let go of his shirt. She needed to rest anyways, it wasn’t an option at that point. Claude gave a little smile, and then paused. It was the first and only time she had ever seen him hesitate in his movements, but, after a careful few moments he leaned down, placing a soft kiss on her head.

“Get some sleep, and if it’s not any better in the morning, I’m dragging you to the infirmary whether you like it or not. Goodnight, Teach.”

She watched him go without a word, and once he was out of her sight she slowly curled up into herself. She had made such a mistake.

“…Sothis?”

Somewhere in the corner of her mind she felt the imp stir; not very much. But enough. Enough at least to prompt her to ask what Sothis perhaps already knew was coming.

“How far back could your Divine Pulse go?”

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