Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This will be quick, it's in my sight… I'll capture it, then run back inside… And be back home in time…! Out from the night, from the mists, stepped a figure. From head and shoulders to toe, she was clad in mourner's black. She slunk across the uneven dirt-paths that twisted through the graveyard like veins or arteries.

Although the blood that runs through this place is FAR from fresh, she thought, a sardonic smile spreading slowly across her green face. And no, it was not because she was sick, nor was it from the stench of the rotting corpses and their organs strewn haphazardly around her. She'd always been green, born that way, and never had enough money to pay for a full skin transplant, or did she desire to enter any sort of shady contract deals with the company—the "Wizard"—that provided these miracle surgeries.

"Jackpot…!" The green-skinned grave-robber lit up when she pushed aside an old metal door and saw a pile of bodies that were somewhat preserved by the coolness of the room. She quickly got to work, kneeling beside the nearest corpse and pulling out her black bag of silver tools. Was she a medical student, a surgeon, a necromerchant? Did the difference really matter, if one even existed anymore at all? She paused only to adjust the tall, pointy black hat that sat atop her rat's nest of tangled, dark hair. Contrasting her appearance, her silver tools were in perfect order and array.

Lungs and livers and bladders and hearts, you'll always save a bundle if you snatch the Wizard's parts. Spleens and intestines and spines and brains. All at stealer prices but the quality's the same! With a wicked smile, the green girl picked up a bone saw. Back and forth and back and forth and back—PLOP. The arm hit the ground, squishing slightly against the stone floor of the mausoleum. She wasted no time wrapping the severed limb up in plastic.

"Eeew, Elphie!" Standing beside the green-skinned grave-robber was a golden animatronic, a woman made entirely of metal and wire, whereas most were made of flesh and blood.

Well, once upon a time, but… eeew…! Had the robot's face still been made of flesh, her little nose would've crinkled in disgust. That's one thing I DON'T miss about having a body… Ugh! And look at her! She thinks it's FUN! And they say I'M the one with a few screws loose? Huh!

The moon shined silver against the gold wire that made up her hair as she crossed her metal arms and looked away.

"My sweet, I told you I was going to the graveyard. Am I to blame if you took that as an invitation for a romantic walk under the moonlight?" Elphaba rose to her feet slowly, dusting off her long, dark robe and smirking as she met Glinda's eyes. Then Elphaba's smile flickered. Those eyes were some of the only human things still on/in Glinda. The rest was lost to time, to death and disease, but the necromancer wasn't a necromancer for nothing. To combine man and machine and magic…!

No, she certainly had not come for a romantic date night in the graveyard. Even kinder interpretations would assume I was a mourner rather than a lover, thought the necromerchant with a dry smile. Perhaps in a way, I am…

Elphaba's eyes grew distant as she gazed out across the endless expanse of tombs, bodies, and headstones. So much death and destruction and despair… Ever since the disease that destroyed their entire world, it was nothing but an endless race against the ever-ticking tock of the Time Dragon Clock. The green girl grew up watching society fling itself between science and sorcery and spirituality, struggling to find salvation. Now, she was in the rat race too. Truly, no one was exempt. Elphaba glanced over at Glinda's tin, tiktok form. No one…

"Well, perhaps not romantic," Glinda acknowledged, tilting her head slightly, joints squeaking softly as she did so. "But time spent with you…" Although, perhaps not watching you do autopsies! The most Glinda could do was shift her metal jaw in the echoes of a smirk. Heh, I may be made of metal, but I know I've got a heart! And a stomach… Ick…!

Oh, but Elphie dearest, really! You DO do too much for me… Think about all you've done already! As Elphaba noted before, none were exempt from the suffering caused by the plague—or the obsession with cheating death, stealing body parts, performing operations and mutations—and of course, the green girl was no exception. First, she nearly lost Glinda to the plague. It was only a mix of magic and mind that allowed her to salvage just enough of Glinda's brain and consciousness to transfer it into a new, hollow vessel.

And what about YOU, Elphie? She was born green, and her younger sister was born with her little legs all tangled. Although the worst of the worldwide disease wouldn't rear its ugly head for years longer, in hindsight, Elphaba would recognize her and Nessa's problems as symptoms of the disease lying latent inside their mother until it finally took her away. In a strange twist of fate, Elphaba and Nessa seemed immune to the plague, but even though the green girl miraculously had never required surgery in her entire life, she operated on herself nonetheless, as scientist and subject.

She was determined not just to save Glinda's life, but to restore it, and to restore her body as well. If flesh could become machine, could machine become flesh? Especially since Elphaba knew it was possible to be at least somewhat genetically resistant to the virus. Case and point, herself. And Glinda was far from the only one who would benefit if Elphaba could make such a radical discovery.

Already, there was an extra eye on the back of Elphaba's head, ever awake. Even though Glinda couldn't see it through Elphaba's hair, she knew it would be concealed just beneath the brim of her hat, ever keeping watching for any threats that may attack her, be it the police or rival grave robbers or desperate junkies out of their mind in need of another fix.

"You can't seriously be thinking of sewing that thing on me, can you?" Glinda pointed at the arm Elphaba was now stuffing into her second bag, this one to carry the loot and spoils of her grave-robbing rather than the tools of the trade. The robot was half-joking and half-serious.

"It would be a learning experience either way." Elphaba paused in her packing to look at Glinda again, smirking. Guts and gears, green and gold. Maybe I should try stealing someone's brain and seeing if I can upgrade my own with a little extra space, heh…

"Elphieeeee!" Glinda whined, and Elphaba couldn't help but chuckle.

It's good to know you sound the same no matter what form you're in… "All right, here. You wanna carry the body bag?" Elphaba was smiling warmly as she held out the second duffle bag to the other woman.

"What?! Eew! NO!" Glinda shrieked and jumped away from her. "Gimmie the tool bag!" Sheesh, Elphie, you ALWAYS do this! But I don't want to get… icky, fleshy bits all up in my metal joints!

Elphaba cackled as she shouldered the bag with the arm in it, handing Glinda the other, cleaner bag.

Sheesh, Elphie! Glinda thought again. It's a good thing you're meticulous with them, if nothing else!

The pair exited the mausoleum, and as the cool night air brushed against their faces, Elphaba paused to take Glinda's metal hand and squeeze it. She whispered a promise, but her eyes burned with a severity much stronger than a faint or gentle breath.

"Don't worry, Glinda, I will find your cure…" And with that, the robot and the "mutant" moved onto their next scavenging ground.

Chapter Text

SLAM! The sound reverberated through the wooden threshold and seemed to fill the hall in either direction, but for once, Storm didn't care. Her bag hit the floor with a thud, followed by her coat and keys. Then it was just her in the middle of her tiny, dingy, dingey, run-down apartment.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Incoherent curses raged around her skull as she moved from room to room, kicking and slamming. When she kicked the end of her bed, a piece of wood chipped off and went flying. As if the universe personally had it out for her, it ricocheted off the nearby dresser and struck her leg. It didn't hurt. She barely even felt it. But for just a second, she saw red. Teeth clenched, she whipped around on the bed, but even though she wanted nothing more than to scream and murder it, a rush of hopelessness suddenly surged through her.

It wouldn't do any good. It would only put her out of a bed. And then she would be twice as miserable. And she would feel infinitely more pathetic. Wasn't this supposed to be her chance? Not just for freedom from her abusive parents, but the chance to prove to them—and herself—that she could actually make it! It wasn't just running away, but running toward. She was supposed to be running toward a better life, but no. Instead, here she was, stuck in a crappy apartment where everything squeaked and leaked and her stuff—what little she had—went missing on a daily basis.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! She didn't even bother with dinner, just peeled off her clothes and left them on the floor, crawling in between the thin, fraying, stale-smelling sheets. The air in the apartment was hot in the summer, especially because it was so small and poorly ventilated. It always smelled faintly like dust, though tonight, there was also the faint scent of flowers.

She lay on her side, facing the wall, brow still furrowed from the workday she hadn't fully shaken off. She hated her job. She hated her apartment. She hated the feeling of being completely, utterly alone. Utterly defeated. Utterly pathetic. But did she have any choice? To go back to her parents was admitting they were right. She couldn't make it on her own. And that was assuming they would take her back in the first place.

But as the night dragged on, even though her thoughts did as well, her breath began to slow, and something in the air seemed to shift. The endless and incessant creaking and breaking that filled the apartment during the day finally ceased. And as Storm drifted off, even though she wouldn't remember it in the morning, something gentle and pleasant radiated from her head, as if someone was caressing her hair…

ooo

Storm jiggled her keys louder than necessary. Go away! she whined inwardly. When would that daft idiot get the hint?! Then again, perhaps Liam being a daft idiot means he will NEVER get it. She wanted to sigh in despair, but instead, she kept her expression deadpan as she tried to shake her rather persistent coworker off.

"I already told you, I didn't need you to "walk me home" or "escort me home" or whatever nonsense!"

Liam, meanwhile, tried to look casual. "I know. You're one of the most dedicated night guards we've got. And you're tough, too. Real tough. I've seen you fight. But I'm tellin' ya, Storm—" Even just hearing him say her name made her skin crawl with irritation and disgust "—the real danger might not just be on the streets…" He looked over his shoulder casually, waiting for her to ask for more, but she didn't oblige, not just because she disliked him, but because she'd already heard this crackpot theory of his.

I don't like our boss either. Shady guy. But Liam, you are such a liar that I don't know how you expect ANYONE to believe you over him. Storm started to swing the apartment door shut on him, but his boot wedged into the frame.

"Storm, wait, please, just hear me out—"

"Liam—!" Storm wrenched the door from his hand, pushing his boot away with her own, but he wouldn't relent. You JUST said I was one of the best fighters you've ever seen. Do you REALLY want to—

BANG! The sound of something falling over inside the apartment caused Liam and Storm to both jump, Storm whipping around in surprise, then she gasped. Am I… going crazy…?

Liam couldn't see, because Storm was blocking it unintentionally, but hovering in the air half a foot off the floor was her kitchen chair. The chair suddenly pulled back, and Storm instinctively jumped to the side. A second later, the chair went whizzing by, feet first.

"What the—?!" Liam's eyes widened, but a second later, he was caught in the stomach by the chair—"Oof!"—and pushed clean out the door. Then the chair flew in reverse, the door swinging shut and locking behind it. Storm could only gawk as the chair then returned itself to her kitchen table, sliding gently back into place. Storm's thoughts echoed Liam.

What the…? Then she heard a sigh, followed by a voice.

"Guess I may as well give up the ghost…" The voice chuckled dryly. Then the air before Storm shimmered and rippled. Once the distortions ceased, hovering before her was… a girl!

A- a- a ghost! A g-ghost girl! Storm gawked. What the…? Even though she was mostly transparent, Storm could still see faint hues of color. The girl had wavy brown hair that ran midway down her back, and her eyes were the same shade. Her skin was tan, and from what Storm could see, she wore jeans and a purple hoodie. Huh… It suddenly occurred to her that most ghosts in films wore long, flowing, old-timey dresses and outfits.

"Wh-who…? Who are you…?" Even though the ghost's face shimmered and shifted like a mirage, Storm was certain she saw a smile.

"I'm Iris," the ghost girl replied. "And yes, you're right, I am a ghost. I… didn't want to show myself to you at first. In case you… well, reacted like this…" A pale hand gestured to her. "But… he had a gun. Something he stole from work, I'd wager…" Iris' eyes drifted past Storm and toward the apartment door. Storm felt a chill run through her stomach.

I always knew he was unhinged, but just how far would he go?!

"But don't worry!" The ghost girl straightened up, even floating a couple inches higher as her tone brightened. "I won't let him hurt you! I may be bound to this apartment, but trust me, your security office is within my "jurisdiction" as it were." One of the girl's eyes flickered in and out of existence, and after a moment, Storm realized it was a wink. She could only stare back, dazed. Just how did one adjust to a ghostly roommate?

I… highly doubt they pay rent… Storm exhaled inwardly.

ooo

In the days, weeks, and months to come, Storm and Iris would become friends, even though it would be reluctant on Storm's part, at least in the beginning. But then friendship became something more, and by then, they were on the exact same page. Storm also came to know that Iris was, predictably, a previous tenant of the apartment. Similar to Storm, she was attacked in her room, although in Iris' case, it was a robbery gone wrong.

"I don't remember much," she'd admitted. "But I think it happened so fast, that was why I didn't have time to be saved…" All she remembered was a flash, a bang, a lot of sharp pain. She didn't remember blood, but what else could it have been except a gun? "I had no rivals, either, at least not that I knew of. And I wasn't exactly rich myself. Really, I think they were trying to rob one of the other residents, and I just stuck my head out the door at the wrong place, at the wrong time."

Storm had nodded grimly. That part of the city wasn't one of the best. It had gotten better in the decades or so since Iris was murdered there, but Storm's silent complaints with the building weren't unfounded. Iris still wasn't sure how exactly she came back as a ghost, but she decided to become a protector of the place, watching over all future tenants.

"Don't worry!" Iris had promised early on. "I'm a friendly ghost! Most I'll do is pranks, because sometimes this afterlife gets kind of boring, but I swear they're all harmless!" She raised her right hand. "Nobody's ever died of fright on my watch! In fact, the last guy to live here—and he was really cute by the way—moved out when he got married. He and his husband are even cuter together!" Even though Iris was recounting an otherwise cheerful story, there was just a hint of sadness in her that she was unable to leave the apartment. Every tenant left eventually…

Storm, meanwhile, was more focused on the epiphany that came with Iris admitting to (some of) her pranks. That would explain the incessant creaking of the apartment, even though Storm lived alone. And it would explain her items going missing. Although, in the heat of her anger, she hadn't realized it, all of her missing items eventually turned up somewhere around the apartment.

"Wait a minute. Does that mean… you've been watching me all this time?!" Storm recoiled at the thought, mortified.

"I give you your privacy!" Iris giggled. "I guess it's kind of like sleeping. If I can't leave the apartment, I can just "shift out of existence", so don't worry. I've never seen anything I shouldn't have. Remember, you're not my first tenant, heh… Though you ARE beautiful."

Storm didn't remember her response to that remark, because she could barely bring herself to think about the remark at all. Even then, it made her face burn and her stomach churn. Butterflies? They felt like hornets. But for the first time ever, when Storm came home, she smiled. Work was still rough, but it was manageable. Liam was long gone, his lies and attempts at overthrowing their boss finally catching up to him. The apartment was still dingey, but it was also manageable.

"Hi, honey! How was work today?" A friendly voice chirped, greeting her as soon as she rounded the corner.

Storm rolled her eyes, grinning despite herself. "We're not an old married couple," she muttered aloud.

"Not yet, but maybe I'm practicing!" Iris replied, and Storm followed her voice willingly into the kitchen. She chuckled as a few pots and spoons floated gently in front of her, moving from the cupboards to the stovetop.

"I wanted to help," said the ghost girl, slowly shifting into view. It took energy for a spirit to interact with the physical world, but Iris could still move objects even though she didn't dare try to cook. What if something went wrong and she wasn't strong enough to fix it? There were benefits to being a ghost, but there were drawbacks too.

"Well, thank you." Storm turned on the stove and opened the fridge. Heh, I can't believe it. It's almost disgusting, how… domestic I've become. Never in a million years would the woman hardened by years of abuse and neglect thought she would find contentment in such a boring and stereotypical lifestyle, yet here she was, cooking dinner with her ghostly girlfriend. Even the word made her feel unreasonably giddy and unbearably embarrassed. But it was the truth! Utensils continued to float in the background as Storm prepared the meal with Iris' assistance.

Storm shared stories of her security work. Not all of her coworkers were conniving like Liam. Some of them were the closest she'd ever come to having people she considered friends. At least until Iris.

For the first time in my life, I think I could stay… She'd proposed the idea to Iris before, and Iris had at first rejected it, insisting that Storm needed to maintain focus on her goal of eventually leaving that hovel of an apartment behind. But not if it means leaving you behind as well. Maybe I'm crazy, but I thought I was crazy the night I saw a ghost throw a chair at a guy for me. You didn't meet people like that very often. I think maybe she's what they would call a keeper… Putting that into perspective, was Storm deciding to stay really so outlandish?

And Iris herself had been delighted at the prospect, it was just difficult to accept when so many other tenants had only stayed maybe a couple of years before moving on. But Storm had stayed far longer than expected already, so maybe it was ok for Iris to dare to dream once more… The ghost sat across from Storm at the dinner table as she ate. As a ghost, Iris herself didn't need to partake in the meal, but she kept Storm entertained, chatting with her the entire time.

Heh, Storm thought, that's another reason I know things are different with her. Ordinarily, I would've hated the thought of someone talking at me while I tried to eat. But before Storm knew it, dinner was done, and she was just as engrossed with Iris' conversation as she was at the very beginning. Then even after dinner, although Iris temporarily departed into a state of nonexistence so Storm could prepare for bed without being watched, the two reunited in bed, the ghost curling up around the human.

"Should you ever leave me," Storm murmured suddenly, "please close the curtain on your way out, for it will be cold without you here to warm me up anymore…"

She felt a soft, warm gust on the back of her neck. The ghost of a laugh. "I will always be here, so long as you save a place for me."

And if one day, your seat ever goes untouched, will you have gone forever? "Would you miss me in a thousand years, when you will dry another's tears?" You can't just fly into people's bedrooms, then expect them to calmly wave goodbye, You've changed the course of history, and didn't even try… Storm had wondered before. What was the process of becoming a ghost? Could she reunite with Iris in the future someday, in the ether? Perhaps she could spend eternity here. Yes, if Iris could, so could she.

And it was something Iris thought a great deal about as well, even though it was the elephant in the room neither of them were ever comfortable addressing together. I would like that more than anything, but… I don't even know how to control it. And even if we could, are you really sure you want to resign yourself to eternity, here? Even if I am with you…? Ah, but those days were, hopefully, still decades off.

"But until then, I'll save your side of the bed," Iris promised, and even though she lacked a corporeal form, Storm somehow felt Iris' embrace tighten. "Just come, lie here with me, and let me sing me you to sleep…"

Chapter Text

“Wowie zowie! Wouldja look at that?!” March 7^th pointed excitedly at the sprawling storefront, the neon-red letters H&M scrawled across.

“Surely you’ve seen clothing stores before,” Dan Heng smirked slightly, voice low and soft and quiet.

“Not at this mall, silly!” March’s tone was torn between amusement and annoyance. He’s just trying to get under my skin! Well… I’m not gonna let him! Cute Girls don’t get ruffled that easily! Besides, I AM the fashionista of the friend group, so of COURSE this is one area where I know more than him. Her smile became smug, and without warning, she grabbed his and Zenith’s hands and dragged them into the store.

“Woah!” She was stronger than she looked.

“Ooooh! Just look at all this Pride merch!” March’s eyes practically turned into hearts, and the irises rainbows as they reflected the rows and shelves of flags, makeup, jewelry, wigs, accessories, rainbow shirts and skirts, and more. “OMG I’m gonna be the first one to find a trans flag!”

Hmph! Rainbow capitalism! Zenith thought, but that didn’t stop them from eyeing the walls, trying to see if they could find a genderfluid flag. March was already way ahead of them, touching every item on the shelf, and yet skimming by so fast that Zenith and Dan Heng could only wonder how much of it she was truly absorbing. Or maybe it was purely sensory and March was simply swept up in the excitement. She certainly didn’t spend any time checking price tags.

“I’ve never seen you this alert or punctual for anything,” Zenith teased as they watched March flit around like a hummingbird.

“Hey! Gotta try hard sometimes!” March pouted back at them, a trans flag draped over one of her shoulders. Then—“Ooooh, shiny!” Now her eyes practically turned into stars as she got an eyeful of a necklace full of large, rainbow gemstones. “Oooh, sparkly!”

“Well, if we run out of money, I can just go dumpster diving for more later,” Zenith said, and neither of their companions knew if they were joking or not. Dan Heng gave them a side-eye while March grabbed their hand again as if to tug them back.

“Absolutely not! We came here today to get everyone pretty for Pride month!” She clapped her hands like a drill sergeant.

“You… what?” Dan Heng quirked an amused eyebrow while Zenith snort-laughed and tried to protest.

“Ah, no, I think I have more than enough—”

“At home is sooooo last season!” March interrupted. She paced back and forth before suddenly snatching something off the nearest rack and handing it to each of them. “Here! Try these on for size!”

“How do you know you even grabbed the right size?” Zenith scoffed as they took a jacket from the young woman.

“A Cute Girl’s instincts!” March crossed her arms with a haughty expression on her face, eyes drifting shut. “I’m a photographer, so I’ve got an eye for fashion!” In doing so, she missed the next snort-laugh from Zenith as they and Dan Heng locked eyes.

“Can you believe this girl?!”

A silent, long-suffering sigh. Unfortunately, yes. I can. This behavior was, after all, not exactly uncharacteristic for the energetic little fashionista/photographer. As she, herself, had just said, even she had to try hard sometimes. She just hated trying hard when it came to stuff she wasn’t into. But for the stuff she was into… (In fact, she was now somewhat of a micro-celebrity at their local YMCA just because she learned how to swordfight from some of the other gym members).

Now it’s MY turn to be the mentor! March thought proudly, hands on her hips. It wasn’t just in fashion either. When Zenith first moved into town and became part of her and Dan Heng’s little friend circle, Zenith had been terribly unsure of themself. But thanks to me, now they’re SUPER confident! I even helped them pick out some of their names! Aside from Zenith, they also went by Stelle and Caelus.

Ah, I remember when I was the baby gay… March smiled to herself. When she was new to town, new to school, a kindly redheaded woman was one of the first people to welcome her.

“What’s your name, sonny?”

Sonny…? No, that hadn’t sounded right. Even though March understood where the mistake had come from—the short hair and exuberant, almost aggressive personality—March was a girl just as sure as she was cute! Her first winter there, she’d been brave enough to come out to the likes of Dan Heng and the redheaded woman. She would never forget the way the ice crystals grew and spread across the windows, reflecting the warm candlelight within. March had seen shimmering pink and blue hues within the icy white.

“Zenny, you can rock any outfit if you would just try a little harder!” March sighed, tone fond and exasperated, teasing and sincere.

Zenith strutted back and forth in a hoodie and baseball cap, swiping some shades from a nearby rotating display case of sunglasses. “Yo? What up? I’m totally Zen, yo!” they asked, flashing two peace signs and giving a laidback smile.

“I said try a little harder!” March repeated with another sigh. You big goof!

Dan Heng, finally deciding to humor his companions as well, tried on a long, flowing robe. It was nothing like some of the hanfu he wore during family gatherings or for special ceremonies and rites of passage, but it felt similar.

“Hmm, sometimes I miss this,” he remarked. “Long hair and clothing like this is… not as commonly accepted around here…” Where Dan Heng was from, plenty of men had long, flowing hair, and long, flowing robes, and nobody thought twice about it! But as someone trying to leave his past behind, Dan Heng had since adopted a hair cut and clothing style that was seen as more masculine in the eyes of the new culture he lived in.

He thought back to his boyhood, when some of his peers would even cut holes into the long sleeves of their long robes as a reference to an old legend, the Passion of the Cut Sleeve. As the story went, the Emperor took on a male lover, and would’ve preferred to slice his priceless robe than to rouse his sleeping lover. Pain like a blade sliced Dan Heng’s chest, but he forced it back to the past, back to the back of his mind.

Yes… I am still who I was in some ways. He couldn’t outrun his sexuality. But that boy from the past… Not him, but… He can stay there…

“Awww, Dan Heng! That is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard!” March cried.

“It is?” Both Dan Heng and Zenith quirked amused eyebrows.

“Yeah!” she nodded, completely serious. “People should be free to dress how they want! Plus, I’ve seen some of those old pictures of you. You look pretty with long hair! Just like how I look cute with short hair!”

“Thanks?” Dan Heng chuckled softly. I get it, though. Hair can be a strong part of gender expression. After all, Zenith would oscillate between long and short hair depending on their gender.

“Oh, hey, guys, look over here! Stickers!” March was already onto the next display case. Dan Heng and Zenith exchanged glances once more and chuckled. Then by the time the trio came out of the closet and the store an hour later, March was just as bubbly and hyper as ever, arms overflowing with bags. Dan Heng and Zenith looked on the brink of exhaustion, but none of them would’ve changed it for the world.

Chapter Text

The Amorland Training Center was alive with activity and electricity. The castle's virtual reality simulator—under the careful watch of the Commissioner, and her Soulmate, Viola—powered on, its neon, cybernetic lights piercing the dark. The battlefield shimmered into existence beneath an artificial sky. Towering spires—some made of stone and some green lines of code—loomed in the distance. They pulsed with a life of their own, the lights running up and down the sides like veins of wire. And at the top of each of them, the purple and gold of Amorland's flag flew proudly.

A dull roar filled the digital stands as a simulated breeze swept through. Some of the crowd was made of nothing but pixels. The rest, however, were real spectators. There were fellow knights on break, curious young nobles, and scheming elders in search of the mightiest warrior. They watched both with their eyes, and little heads-up displays that allowed them to zoom in on specific parts of the simulated jousting arena. Even the princess, Rosemere, was there. Her green eyes drifted shut as a smile spread across her dark face.

"Good luck, Lyza, my love!" she thought, and a moment later, she felt her Soulmate's reply buzz against her brain.

"Thanks, dear." In the distance, one of the knights raised her broad-sword. She had frizzy, dark hair combed over to one side, and brown skin only a few shades lighter than the princess'. Her eyes were murky green-brown, and her shoulders and stature were as broad as her giant blade.

"Knights! Atten-SHUN!" The Commissioner's voice rolled across the field like thunder. She raised her labrys, crackling with electricity.

"Today is the Tourney of the Digi-Dragon!" Viola stepped up beside her Soulmate. "In T-minus 15 seconds, you will slay a dragon! Your objective, please do so before 70% of the castle is destroyed!" She gestured to the shimmering hologram in the distance.

Some of the knights snickered. 70% destruction was considered a success rate?! But sure enough, 15 seconds later, a bone-chilling bellow rang out from every direction at once. Countless heads turned left and right, desperately searching for the—

Cr-crk-crk-BOOM! The ground split open, and a massive, pixilated, red dragon shot up from the crack. Rosemere squinted as the wind from its wings gusted and pushed against the stands. The knights closest to the fissure were thrown back, everyone's skull rattling and ears vibrating. The dragon roared again, and banners fluttered in the breeze its breath generated. Only two knights withstood the initial blast. The first, Grayson, was clad in silvery-blue armor. He raised his lance high.

"CHARGE!" His brain as fast as his feet, the golden-haired man sprinted forward, using some of the strewn-about training equipment to springboard himself toward the dragon. Because they were in a virtual reality, the laws of physics were far more easily broken. In the case of a real battle—although it would be with a mutated creature rather than a fantastical dragon—he would've been suited in far bulkier armor. But the point of today's training was to show off the agility of the knights. Heavy armor was for another day. With such speed and agility, the audience could follow their favorite champion through the excitement as if they were right there beside the brave warriors.

Grayson's lance pierced the dragon's chest. It roared and shook him loose, but he gracefully flipped away, holding tight to his lance and landing on his feet with a grim but self-satisfied smirk. Even though the dragon had removed the lance, there was now a gaping wound in its chest. A green health bar flickered over the monster's head. Already, 10% was gone.

The second knight to withstand the blast was Garth. Contrast to Grayson, he was a defensive fighter, and far quieter. He was a master of swords, and silent statements, clad in pink armor. He even glanced at Grayson out of the corner of his dark eyes, but said nothing. Grayson was as handsome as he was talented. There was no denying that. But he was even haughtier than he was handsome or talented.

"RAAHHH!" When the dragon unleashed its first fireball, Garth calmly raised his sword like a bat and swung, striking the fireball with the flat of the blade. Some of the flames dissipated while the rest went flying back at the dragon. 5% health loss. Now it was Garth's turn to wear the small, self-satisfied smirk. Grayson, meanwhile, glanced at him out of the corner of his icy blue eyes, scowling.

"Knights! To me! Advance!" He raised his lance in the air again, a rallying point, and the others were swift to follow after. The dragon roared and flew away from them, headed toward the simulated, holographic castle. The spectators in the stands oohed and awed as they zoomed in, following the knights, rushing after them, after the dragon. Arrows, bullets, and energy beams whistled after the dragon as knights reached the castle courtyard. While the beast took refuge on the roofs, curling its scaley limbs and tail around the spires, some of the knights scaled after it while others continued to launch ranged attacks from below.

Woo! Feel the burn! Lyza thought with a savage smile as her legs and lungs ached. A second later, a wave of fire descended upon her. With a laugh, she dodged and rolled to the side. When she bounced up again, she was side to side with Garth.

"Hey, dude!" As always, he had an unusually serious and pensive expression. This is supposed to be a FUN training day! She smirked. But she knew him well. He saw everything as a challenge, a puzzle, and he was always eager to think it out. And despite being an Amorland knight, he was a pacifist at heart. But that was why he wielded his blade defensively rather than offensively.

"Watch out!" Grayson's irritated snap just reached their ears when Lyza reflexively raised her own sword.

CLANG! The dragon's head collided with the massive sheet of metal that Lyza called a blade. Vibrations ran up and down her arm, but she grinned and gripped her sword tighter. The dragon, stunned, slowly pulled away. Some of the knights chuckled when pixilated stars circled the creature's scaley, red head.

"All right! It's stunned!" Grayson thrust his lance forward and was quickly followed by a relentless onslaught from the other knights. Only Garth hung back, but this time it wasn't because he was a pacifist.

There's no way we've won that easily… He'd barely finished the thought when the dragon's wings popped open, sending some of the knights flying. It's a good thing fall damage was lessened! He winced as he heard plate metal strike stone ground. But then… something shifted in the air. Even though Garth was unsurprised by the dragon's second wind, when it took to the sky again, it flew far above the expected height range. Its flames wouldn't even shoot that far down, so what was it doing? This was a useless attack, and it wasn't programmed to kill-spiral.

"Is it glitching…?" A nervous spectator—Penn, Soulmate of Grayson—a few seats away from the princess muttered, ginger brow furrowing. A second later, the dragon did indeed come plunging back down in a kill spiral. It collided with the ground, and the shockwave was so immense that the stands rattled and the audience was blown sideways.

The princess! Viola and the Commissioner had watched over the battle, scoring the knights on their skill, but the moment the dragon abruptly left the castle and flew back to the stands, they knew something was off. They locked eyes, then wasted no time in shifting into their Spirit Animal forms to race up the stairs and rescue the princess before the dragon could recover from its stunned state.

The Commissioner became a large, elegant, golden wolf, easily sprinting ahead. Viola, meanwhile, was a far humbler, brown hound. She barked as loudly as she could, trying to rally the frightened spectators. It was time for them to log out, but because none of them knew if it was a glitch or a hijacking, Viola and the Commissioner didn't want the princess logging out without them by her side first.

"ROSE!" Lyza panicked the moment she saw the stands tremble.

"I- I- I'm ok!" Rosemere's tone was shaky through their telepathic bond. It sounded static, and Lyza's stomach seized.

"I'll be right there!" A second later, she was gone, replaced by her own Spirit Animal form, a jackal. Garth, who had not yet found his Soulmate, could only watch her go with a small, knowing smile.

I was going to ask if you wanted my help, but I guess you have it covered. The group moved as one back to the stands, but while Lyza broke away to find the stairs up into the stands, Garth followed Grayson and the rest of the knights back out onto the field. The dragon awaited…

Sniffsniffsniffsn—Lyza's nose found Rosemere before she did. "Rose!"

"Lyza…" The princess was fine. Shaken, but fine. She was in her Spirit Animal form, an iridescent snake, wrapped around Viola's hands and arms. While she was back in her human form, the Commissioner had gone after Grayson and the other knight to help subdue the rogue dragon.

"Oh, here you go," said Viola with a knowing wink as she set Rosemere down in front of Lyza. Lyza affectionately licked the snake's head while Viola quietly shifted back into her own canine form and went chasing after her Soulmate. Now that Lyza was there, Viola knew for certain that Rosemere was in good hands, and she could return to her own Soulmate. Up ahead, she could see Grayson's stag horns gleaming like a beacon.

"Lyza!" The snake waggled her head in relief, rainbow scales flashing.

"Oh, thank goodness!" Lyza licked the snake's head once before morphing back into her human form.

"Don't worry about me. I was more worried about you!"

"Well, I'm just a knight, and you're the—"

"There is no "just" about it!" Rosemere interrupted, tongue flicking indignantly. Despite herself, Lyza chuckled.

Right, sorry, she thought, although she kept the thought to herself, I didn't mean it that way. I mean, I wasn't trying to self-deprecate. I just meant that I'm trained to handle this type of stuff, but she isn't. But Rosemere could be quite fiery behind her demure mannerisms. Heh, I guess I just stumble over my words. Or rather, I'll say stuff I mean one way, but then people will take it another. Ooops, the knight grinned ruefully. Still, it's nice to know she cares! She's always been protective of her family and loved ones!

Lyza felt a touch of pride. Of course, as Rosemere's Soulmate, she definitely counted as family. But they'd known one another since childhood, since Lyza trained as a page and squire with the Amorland army before becoming a knight. Rosemere, like Garth, had been there for everything, including when Lyza first transitioned. They were the first two she told, and they were by far the most enthusiastic, not just supportive, but genuinely happy and excited for her.

Speaking of Garth… Now that Lyza was assured Rosemere was safe, her rueful smile became amused. I better make sure he doesn't need me to save his butt! She quickly logged herself and Rosemere out of the simulation. They met with the army's Captain, who confirmed that it appeared to be a random glitch rather than a malicious hacking. Reassured, Lyza left Rosemere with him before returning to the virtual world.

BOOOM! In the distance, the dragon slammed into the ground again. Lyza chuckled grimly.

Ok, fine, guess this is going to be an intense training session after all. But as she told Rosemere just moments ago, it was all part and parcel of being a knight. Lyza patted her trusty broad blade, then went sprinting back toward the action. For Amorland!

Chapter Text

"How much time do I have…?" The White Rabbit asked himself breathlessly as he hopped along the dirt trail, racing as fast as his pale, little legs could carry him. Even as he clicked open his golden pocket watch, his feet never stilled. "Oh! Not again! I'm late, I'm late, I'm late for a very important date!" Had he had his wits about him, he might've questioned where he even was. The dirt trail? Not familiar. And the date he was late for? Well… he couldn't remember! And that should've tipped him off immediately. He was far too diligent and meticulous to forget something like an important date! And yet, he only berated himself as he hopped on.

Dreams had a strange way of doing that to people, convincing them that the preposterous was utterly normal…

"Wooooaaaaahhhhhhh—!" Down the rabbit hole he fell. It hadn't been there just a hop, step, or jump ago.

The White Rabbit hit the ground hard, but suddenly, he was no longer a rabbit, and… He wasn't in Wonderland anymore.

"Heheheh, don't worry, Little Prince, we all go mad here…!" The visage of a smirking fox flashed before his eyes, but it was gone as fast as it had come. Now he was alone again, in a dark, winding, uneven hall of mirrors.

A funhouse? he thought, confused. Blinking, he stood up slowly, brushing the dirt from the fall off his knees. Even though the hall was dark and twisted, there was just enough light from an unknown source that he could see dim reflections of himself in the endless, wavy sheets of glass.

"H-huh?!" Wait a minute… Just up ahead, there was a little girl, about his age. She had pale skin, like him, and fluffy pale hair, like him, although hers was tinted slightly blonde rather than slightly blue, and her features were a little more masculine than his own. Her hair was tied up in a tight bun, pulled back to show all of her face. She had the same curious, cautious look he did, rearing back in alarm upon seeing him. Her scholarly-looking robe was long and blue and uncannily familiar… Was she some kind of mirror princess? Then something else occurred to him.

Why am I seeing her? Shouldn't I be seeing… me? He waved, she waved. "Hi, uhhh, I- I- I'm Misha!" The name came to him out of nowhere. How could he have forgotten his name? The girl spoke at the same time he did, in almost the exact same tone.

"Hi, uhhh, I- I- I'm Alisa!" Then it hit Misha. Her gown, though not as complicated, was reminiscent of his bellboy uniform. He looked down, and she did the same, then he looked up, and she did the same.

What the…? Is she… me?

"Looking into mirrors is a little like looking into parallel universes, is it not?" A teasing, lilting voice asked. It sounded like three in one, masculine and feminine and androgynous all at once.

"Wh-who are you?!" Misha looked around wildly, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see "Alisa" doing the same.

"Uh, over here, darling," the voice—or voices—drawled. "Yes, up here." Misha's eyes darted upward, and he gasped. There upon the reflective ceiling was the smirking fox face!

"Woah!" He jumped away as the face suddenly fell toward him. Once it was at head level, it reoriented itself so that it was facing Misha. Through the empty eyeholes, he could see that Alisa was gone. Now, there was no reflection in the mirror. Not even his own. Then the eyeholes of the fox mask filled, bright red, mischievous.

"Ta-da!" Jazz hands! While Misha gawked, Sparkle smirked. "Enter… Mistress Sparkle! I've been watching you for quite a while now, and I want to play! The adults that pass through are always so… boring! Stuffy, stuck up, un-fun! But not you… You seem far more… into breaking the rules, and blazing new trails!" Her tone was lilting, as if she was trying to recite a lullaby, but was woefully unsuited to the task. But she reveled in the dissonance. "Come on, follow me to the other side, through the looking glass funhouse…!"

"I- I- I still don't understand…"

"Yeah. I can tell." Sparkle rolled her eyes, deadpanning. Then a second later, she was all smiles and cheer again. "Silly boy! I'm YOU!" Her voice split into three once more, and Misha's world went dark. The next time he saw anything, it was Sparkle's flashy red dress. On his body!

"Actually—" a voice that sounded like a fusion of his and Sparkle's spoke up from right in front of him, "that is my body. I'm just loaning it!" While she giggled, her laughter mixing with his, Misha looked up slowly, nervously, and then he gasped. Sure enough, standing before him, was him. The only difference, the eyes. While Misha's were purple and earnest, after "possessing him" Sparkle made his eyes golden, and mischievous.

"Just consider it… a little experiment!" The golden-eyed Misha giggled again sweetly, winking. "It's fun being someone else! Dontcha think?" Sparkle opened her—or rather, Misha's—arms and gestured to the hall of mirrors surrounding them. "Who might you have been in another lifetime or alternate universe? Characters and stories are the closest we can get. Come with me, and you'll be, in a world of endless variation!"

The glassy, glossy surfaces rippled, and then were filled with countless variations of Misha. Some were masculine, some were feminine, some were both, some were neither. Some had long, flowing hair, some had short, cropped hair. Some wore dresses and robes while others wore skirts and tee-shirts. Some had delicate features while others had rugged features. Some had the faintest wisps of a beard while others were completely smooth-faced. But undeniably, no matter how different they all looked or dressed or acted, they were all him at their cores.

"A thousand faces in a thousand places!" None of the reflections' mouths moved, but the hive-mind spoke. Only one mirror was empty, and when Misha peered into the mirror dimensions, he saw his face instead of Sparkle's, but he was still in her dress. For a moment, he felt silly, embarrassed, shy. But the longer he glanced at his "Sparklified" self, the more and more he realized that dresses actually suited him very well…

I mean, I used to wear dresses more when I was little. I like to wear them just as much as I like to wear pants! Grandpa never minded, but when I started being a bellboy at the Reverie Hotel, they just gave me this uniform and I never thought to ask for any other. People still mistake me for a girl when they first meet me, but it never really bothered me. Honestly, the only reason I even bother correcting people anymore is because, if anything, THEY are the ones who get weird if they find out they were "wrong".

But was it even really wrong? At least to Misha. Maybe some would be insistent that he was a boy, because that was what was determined at his birth, but while Misha never had any issue identifying as a boy—or being identified as a boy—he never felt a strong sense of attachment to the identity either. What exactly did it mean to be a boy? A man?

All he knew was that he wore what he liked—nail polish, dress, long hair, you name it—and his grandpa never tried to influence in one way or another. Like ice into snow into mist, gender and its expression were fluid. It was only after getting out into the real world and taking on his first job that Misha saw how some people—both Penacony native and guest—reacted when they perceived things as not aligning.

While he was lost in thought, Sparkle watched him intently, finally ceasing in her insipid jokes and giggling.

Ah, see? This is exactly what I was talking about! He's much more open-minded when it comes to pondering things like this. Siiiiigh. You should see how some adults get sometimes! She rolled her eyes, but when she was sure Misha wasn't looking, she waved her hands carefully. The funhouse melted away, shards of glass like snowflakes in the sunlight. Misha would wake up in his own bed, in his own body, scarcely remembering the strange mirror dream from the night before. But for Sparkle, it was an amusing little memory to keep in her back pocket until next time she met the curious little White Rabbit.

Chapter Text

The Locke-n-Key Steampunk Workshop gleamed in the rising sun. Steam breathed from crooked, metal pipes that stretched from the slanted, shingled rooftop, creating clouds to complement the early morning dew. Inside, gears ticked and spun in synchronized rhythm, suspended on and in the ceiling like gilded spiders. The scent of oil for both cogs and leather clung to every surface, mixed with wood polish for the workbenches. The entire workshop seemed alive, a living, breathing beast in its own right.

Tools hung from hooks like surgical instruments, each one precisely placed, well-used, well-polished, clearly beloved. In the far corner, a furnace hissed and crackled behind a wrought-iron grate, its glow casting long shadows across the wood floor. Clock faces clicked on every wall, price tags hanging beside the pendulums. And glass display cases of watches, machine parts, and jewelry filled the front of the store while workbenches lined the back. In the last hour before opening, the owner and inventor cackled softly as they perfected their latest fever-dream idea.

"It's… ALIVE!"

"But you knew that though. There was no surprise in that." Two human eyes opened, staring up at a pair of robotic ones.

"Aime!" The robot sighed, metal hands clanking as they flew to metal hips.

"Sorry, Dr. Locke, I was being sincere." Aime sat up, but Dr. Locke's hands flew to his shoulders.

"Wait. I know that, but don't sit up too quickly, ok? I don't want you to accidentally hurt yourself."

"Don't you trust in your abilities, doctor?" Aime asked, emphasizing his partner's title.

"I- I- I mean I do…!" Dr. Locke looked away, muttering. Jeez, I don't even have a biological heart or stomach anymore, but I swear mine are racing! Although the human-turned-robot wouldn't have had the term for it, some might've compared it to the sensation of a phantom limb. Even after years of hard work, slowly turning themself from a human to a cyborg to a robot, old habits and traits died hard. "Plus! This is new territory for you too, ok? I don't mean to doubt your abilities either, but—"

"I could still overdo it without realizing," Aime, the robot-turned-human, finished. He rested his warm, flesh-and-blood hand on his partner's cold, hard, metal one. Heh… Uncanny… We're so different and yet so similar… Everything and nothing changes… Even though the couple had essentially swapped bodies—Dr. Locke unlocking the secrets not just to turning a man into a machine, but a machine into a man—their personalities didn't seem to have changed all that much. And this feeling, this sensation, of holding their hand like this…

It was still the same flesh on metal, was it not? All that changed was which hand was flesh, and which was metal. But the minds—the souls—of the originals remained unchanged. Aime felt his face tug into a subconscious smile.

Ah! I have always been able to smile in response to things, but never this quickly! He was nearly distracted from his original thought, which sparked his initial amusement. Dr. Locke underwent this enormous endeavor because they've always made it their mission to test boundaries and break through. And yet, in some ways, they're still the same, excitable, exuberant mad scientist I've ever known… Despite Dr. Locke's goal of new experiences, they were still just as passionate and fiery as a robot as they had been as a human.

Then again, maybe that SHOULDN'T surprise me. After all, I know personality development is far more than just the body one is born into. Even if Dr. Locke could hypothetically program themself to immediately have a different personality, Aime had the strong feeling he wouldn't be able to say the same about himself. I still feel just the same as I ever did. I mean, my body feels softer and heavier, in some ways, less balanced and even, but I don't feel like someone new. And even if Dr. Locke had the ability to easily change their personality, would they?

Heh, knowing them, they'd do it for the new experience, but then eventually want to shift back anyway! They had just a bit too much love for themself to ever truly lose the person they considered to be "themself". Ah, but that's one of the things I love about you, Dr. Locke! Ever curious, the doctor ran away from a traditional life and instead became a roboticist, running a humble steampunk workshop where their imagination and creations could run wild and free.

Aime knew he was just one in a long line of many, but when all the rest were ready to leave home, only he chose to stay. That was the day Dr. Locke welcomed him as a partner not just for the workshop, but for life, and he was given the name Aime, which meant love. Though there were plenty of doubters—man, machine, monstrous, religious, scientific, political—as to how sincerely a robot could love.

I understand it, Aime thought passively. But I've learned a lot about Aime, and I know how to tailor my behaviors to their needs and wants. I could do something else with my existence, but when presented with the choice, I figured this was as good a lifelong task as any. Is that love? I don't know. But I think it is. Even from the beginning, Aime was designed to be curious, just like Dr. Locke. He had been built to help the agender doctor experience gender on a deeper level just beyond the cognitive.

"Of course I KNOW what gender is, duh. I'm not stupid!" Dr. Locke had once said, rolling their eyes. "I just mean that, well, even though I obviously know what I was born as, I just don't… I don't get why it has to be such a big deal to so many people!" Curiosity led to invention. Maybe Dr. Locke couldn't physically build gender into themself, but perhaps they could program robots to try to experience it for them. When Aime was a robot, Dr. Locke only had to change some of the fluid in part of the metal body, but now as a human—

At least in this body, I feel like I man. I feel it would be incorrect to label me as anything else, Aime thought, and he was mildly surprised by the extra feeling of repulsion he had upon the thought of being misgendered. I mean, of course I know it is disrespectful to do so intentionally, but I have never felt… this personally about it, I suppose… Truly, it was a learning experience for both of them, Dr. Locke and Aime Key.

But Dr. Locke hadn't designed Aime solely to help them explore gender. Aime was also meant to keep the hotheaded, and sometimes shortsighted, roboticist in check. The calm, cool logic to Dr. Locke's fiery passion! And yet even as a robot, Dr. Locke was behaving just like they had while human. And as Aime had noted before, he didn't feel like a different person than he used to be. He just felt like he had a different body.

Heh, truly, in some ways, everything and nothing changes… But I wouldn't change THAT for anything! Once Aime felt ready, gripping his partner's solid, metal arm for support, he and Dr. Locke carefully practiced moving around the store. It wasn't just to give Aime practice with a human body, though, but also to reassure Dr. Locke that they had connected everything properly when they put Aime's memory chip into his new human form. Before long, Aime was cruising along perfectly fine on his own.

"W-wait!" said Dr. Locke, suddenly shy. "Before we open… would you share a dance with me?" Of course, Aime didn't hesitate to hold out his warm hand, but he raised an eyebrow, interested and curious. As the waltz began, soft music emanated from his partner's metal back.

Ah, that's why. You wanted to show off a new speaker you upgraded into yourself. Aime chuckled, resting his cheek on Dr. Locke's padded metal shoulder. Truly, everything and nothing changes…

Chapter Text

"L-Laura! Laura? LAURA!" Carmilla nearly dropped her armload of grocery bags as she pushed the door open with her boot.

"Arrah-arrah-arr—" Inside, a large, golden wolf was spinning circles, chasing her tail and growling, but she stopped mid-spin when the door rattled open. The moment she caught sight of the human standing in the doorway, her tongue fell out of the side of her mouth as she panted with joy, tail turning into a blurry, fuzzy fan. In one graceful bound, she cleared the entire room. Carmilla's dark eyes widened in horror.

"No, wait! Laura! Down girl—!" She had just enough time to drop the grocery bags before the massive wolf was suddenly less than an inch away from her. Eeew! Laura! Your nose is all cold and slimy! A second later, Carmilla was bathed in a large, pink tongue that seemed determined to lick every inch of her face, multiple times over. "Mmmph!" Carmilla stumbled back under the weight of her lorge, happy doggo.

"That time of the month again already, Laura?" she grumbled as she finally managed to push her way inside. Laura's forepaws hit the floor, but she continued to gaze up at Carmilla with wide, adoring eyes, still panting and wagging furiously. Carmilla sighed, but the smallest of smiles flickered across her face as she turned around to retrieve the groceries.

"Jeez, Laura…" she sighed as she made her way deeper into their abode. Everything—everything—had a thin coat of golden fur. Talk about a bad hair "raze", or bad fur day? Gah, it makes me want to pull all my own hair out! She's completely ruined this place with fur!

"How do you even shed this much?! Are you rubbing your—?" Before she could even finish asking, as Carmilla looked over her shoulder, she caught sight of Laura already happily burrowing into the carpet, rubbing her face in it, dragging herself back and forth along it. Carmilla gave the large, golden wolf a look of disbelief, but knew there was no point in wasting her breath trying to admonish the playful pupper. "Ugh. Never mind."

"All right, Laura, why don't you make yourself useful and help me put stuff away?" Carmilla was only joking, but the golden wolf obediently grabbed the nearest bag of groceries, and one of the only few Carmilla hadn't picked up again. Tail wagging proudly in the air, Laura pranced from the door to their tiny, shared fridge, claws clacking on the wood parts of the floor. Carmilla scoffed as she watched her roommate/girlfriend struggle to them wrap her teeth around the fridge handle.

"Here. Do you want me to—?" Snickering, Carmilla approached, but Laura quickly looked away from the fridge to push her outstretched hand away with another boop from her big, black nose. "Oh, Laura, seriously!" Carmilla sighed and rolled her eyes, but secretly, she had to admire the dumb dog's tenacity, even if it seemed like a pointless endeavor. Instead, the goth girl only crossed her arms and smirked, mentally counting as she listened to Laura's white fangs scrabble against he metal handle.

At last, she got a sturdy enough grip that she was able to tug open the handle. "I could've done that for you," Carmilla reminded her, voice low and husky and teasing as she raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow.

"Arrowwowwwufff!" Laura replied.

"My, my, chatty today, aren't we?" Carmilla smirked again as she brushed past the wolf to place some of the groceries in the minifridge. Then again, a day where you AREN'T chatty is practically nonexistent. Sometimes, I would swear you were part husky!

Laura waited patiently by the fridge, sitting like a good girl, tail wagging until every last grocery was put away. But right before Carmilla could shut the fridge door again, a large, heavy, golden paw reached out and blocked the door.

"What?" Carmilla snorted. Laura stared intently at the deli drawer, almost like a pointer hound. "What the—? Oh, come on, no. You can have some with dinner!" The human knew what her werewolf woman wanted. Bacon, ham, chimken, turkey… Though Carmilla acted like "golden retriever" Laura was a massive burden—and to be fair, she hadn't come to university expecting a (somewhat) nonhuman roommate—she always kept the fridge well-stocked to spoil her.

And you didn't give me any peanut butter with breakfast! Laura thought, eyes reproachful as she gave her human companion a soft whine. She seemed to have conveniently forgotten how Carmilla was generous enough to share some of her eggs that morning, though. Just cuz I'm in doggy form doesn't mean I don't still like my human vices! I want a snacky before dinner, because dinner's still like… a whole hour or two away!

"No," Carmilla repeated, a little more firmly. She wasn't just trying to be cruel to Laura, though. I don't want to overfeed her or make her sick… The gothic girl turned away briefly, biting her dark lips. She wasn't trying to patronize Laura, either. It was just simple fact that while in werewolf form, humans had a tendency to… lose their inhibitions. It's a good thing Laura's strongest drive isn't her predator instinct.

She was still very… food-motivated, but when she lost control, violence wasn't usually her first instinct. It was simply to eat, eat, eat. But just because Laura wanted to eat enough food to put the entire football team to shame—and even if she could do so without getting sick, so long as she was in her werewolf form—that didn't mean it was a good idea. Though Laura would've begged to differ.

She nudged her head dejectedly against Carmilla's leather-clad leg, and despite herself, Carmilla scoffed, reaching down to scritch Laura's golden ears with her black nails. Even though she could still feel the pout radiating off of Laura, the wolf's instincts took over and she tilted her head happily into Carmilla's nails.

Ooooh! I love head-scritchies! Ahem! I mean, don't think this gets you out of anything, missy!

While Laura's tail lashed, Carmilla gave a low, sultry laugh. How cute. The dog thought she owned the human. Well, we'll see about that… "Come on, Laura, I have a better idea…" She glanced at her bed, and scarcely could she blink before Laura was suddenly on it, already nesting, panting excitedly as she waited for Carmilla to lie down with her and nap. Laura always liked to cuddle! And I suppose sleeping will help dinner get here faster, thought the human with a smirk. Though the nap wasn't just to kill time. Carmilla really did want to rest before cooking.

After another long, boring day of study—followed by a long, hard shift at her part-time job—there was nothing she loved more than peace and—Something snuggled violently into Carmilla's side. One dark eye opened slowly, the faintest glimmer of irritation in its depths, but once again, Laura's dark, wet nose was mere inches away from her face, and despite herself, Carmilla cracked a smile. To be fair, she hadn't specified that Laura wasn't supposed to get all up in her personal space. And she didn't know of a single dog—werewolf or mundane—that didn't sometimes struggle with the concept of personal space. The larger the dog, the harder it thought it was a lapdog, it seemed. And Laura was no exception.

"Oh, whatever…" Carmilla mumbled, throwing an arm around the wolf as the wolf tried her best to fit on the small, single bed. You could be a bed yourself! Carmilla thought with a smirk. That was the original idea, anyway. Laura could curl up in such a way that she acted as Carmilla's pillow. But no, instead, she seemed to want to stretch out in full, her body parallel with—and almost slightly on top of—Carmilla's.

Yeah, you just HAVE to be on top, dontcha, Laura? Isn't that's right, girl, isn't it? YOU like to sleep on ME! It was a good thing she was cute, so Carmilla tolerated it. Laura may have been a wild one—whether in human form or wolf—but she brought her human roommate's dark heart and troubled soul the sort of peace she once thought only existed in dreams and fairytales. So as she fell asleep, there was a smile on her face, and her black nails still rested buried in Laura's golden fur.

Chapter Text

The "Let's Get Brew n Tea" café was nestled between the towering buildings of Nexus, capital city of Lastland. It was small, but hard to miss. The storefront, after all, was painted rainbow. Even though it looked a little old, made of wood rather than stone or steel, it was still well-kept. The air inside the café was thick with the bittersweet scent of roasted beans and something floral—lavender, maybe—curling out of the teacups.

Overhead, mismatched lamps cast golden halos on the wood and velvet cushions, while gentle indie music hummed from a speaker tucked beside a potted fern. The old walls were faded in some areas, but especially in light of Pride Month, the paint had recently received a fresh coat, making some of the rainbow patterns pop out even more. Flags of every gender and sexuality hung from the ceiling, circling the entire queer café.

There was a community bulletin board by the door, covered in Pride pins and all sorts of written notes, poems, letters, stories, pictures, and flyers, left behind by patrons and passersby alike. There was something too inviting about the little café, and everyone wanted a chance to leave part of their story embedded within the café's legacy. Dishes clinked as baristas slid mugs across the counter, steamed milk hissing from metal pipes.

Iris sat in a beanbag chair in the corner of the café, fingers drumming her mug in time with the music. Her boyfriend, Westford, smiling shyly, sat across from her, choosing a barstool instead of the beanbag chairs. He, too, tapped the side of his coffee cup, but from nerves rather than the beat of the music. The steam fogged up his glasses, but he sat rigid rather than wiping it away.

Whew! Is it hot in here, or is it just the coffee? Maybe I should've gotten iced… Jeez, I'm such a dummy! It's June anyway! But even though Westford ordinarily prided himself on his taste in coffee, lattes, mochas, and the like, in the heat of the moment, his mind had gone blank. Even though he and Iris mutually agreed to meet up for coffee, and even though they'd been dating for almost a month by then, Westford blurted out a drink order without thinking. A simple, regular coffee. Nothing wrong with that. Except it was sweltering June.

Iris also had a warm cup of coffee, but unlike him, her choice was intentional.

"I'll eat ice cream in December and hot chocolate in June!" she'd joked. Now there they sat, in a pleasant, peaceful silence, at least for Iris. She indulged in her drink while Westford continued to twiddle and fiddle with his.

"—don't like it, I'll happily buy you something else!" In their silence, Westford and Iris overheard another conversation.

"Lilly?" Iris recognized the voice at once, brown eyes brightening as she sat up a little taller.

"Iris!" Lilly recognized Iris immediately as well. They, and Westford, and the woman with Lilly, all worked for the same company, though the two couples worked in different departments.

"Who is…?" Iris glanced at the woman with Lilly. They were both tall and thin, but while Lilly had long, straight, sleek, black hair, the woman with her had golden hair.

"Oh, this is my girlfriend, Lydia!" Lilly puffed out her chest proudly, gesturing to Lydia with her free hand, the other holding a coffee.

Lydia winced, then gave Iris a tight nod. Iris raised her eyebrows slightly in surprise, but nodded politely back. "Nice to meet you."

"She's a little shy," Lilly teased, nudging the blonde and winking.

"Lilly! I'm going to spill my coffee!" the blonde murmured, pulling away, eyes glued to the floor as she held her cup with both hands.

"You're going to break the cup open with your death grip, that's what you're going to do," Lilly smirked.

"Why don't you two join us?" Iris asked excitedly, gesturing to the pair of stools beside Westford.

"Ok!" While Lilly happily sat down, Lydia gave a slight frown while Westford winced.

But Lilly… I thought this was just going to be us!

Iris… This was supposed to sort of, kind of be a date… Just the two of us? Then again, maybe it was on Westford for not being clearer. Man, and I don't want to be controlling or rude, telling her she can't hang out with other people. But I had hoped… He managed to conceal a sigh as Lydia finally took a seat beside Lilly. While Lydia sat in a tense, terse silence, gripping her coffee tightly, Westford's bespectacled gaze never left his brew. He swallowed, his own grip tightening.

Come on, West… Don't say or do anything stupid! And don't be intimidated by… that blonde woman… And don't break the cup either! Jeez! Dummy…! He berated himself as he forced his fingers to loosen slightly, then his shoulders rose around his ears in embarrassment. He felt his cheeks warm, and was mortified, certain they were bright red. Luckily for him, Iris and Lilly were busy talking to one another, and Lydia didn't seem to be one for eye contact either. The anxious young man sighed softly in relief.

"—and it's one of the most annoying things about Pride Month!" Iris concluded with a sigh, rolling her eyes. "Well, one of the most annoying things about being bi," she corrected herself a moment later. "Not that being bi is annoying!" she added quickly. "Just…"

"People's reactions to it…" Lilly gave her a knowing, sympathetic smile. While Lilly was pretty sure she was completely lesbian—and she knew for a fact her girlfriend was—Iris, and Westford, were bisexual.

Of course that's not the same as being gay or lesbian, but I still kind of get it, Lilly thought. Sometimes people act like in order to claim a certain sexuality, you literally have to be in a current and active relationship with a person of that gender. But it was preposterous! Nobody looked at a straight person—single or otherwise—and said they were actually asexual until they found a partner.

If I'm with a girl, I'm actually lesbian, Iris thought, mentally rolling her eyes. If I'm with a guy, I'm actually straight. And in either case, I'm somehow a liar.That was the beauty of the "Let's Get Brew n Tea" café, though. It was truly meant to be a safe space for all. Worries related to the outside world were left at the door. And the staff was adamant about welcoming all patrons.

"You know? All this bi stuff is actually sort of… the story of us…!" Suddenly shy, Iris glanced out of the corner of her eye at Westford, smiling like a giddy schoolgirl. He gave a surprised yelp, then chuckled embarrassedly as Lilly looked at him in surprise and Lydia annoyance. But his gaze became fond as his eyes drifted back to Iris.

It was true. They had been friends for quite a while through work, and Westford harboring a secret crush, though of course, back that, he was sure Iris would never have reciprocated. But then come Pride Month, Iris had gotten into an argument with someone about bisexuality. Westford didn't remember much of it, but that was only because it ended with her stating that Westford was one of her "guy crushes".

"W-wait, I am?!"

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean for that to come out!" Iris covered her mouth, smiling embarrassedly.

But it had been the best day of Westford's life. "W-wait, i-i-if you're interested…!" Then he clapped his hand over his own mouth, and the rest was history. Gay/bi history.

"Awwww!" Lilly smiled. Her story with Lydia was similar, the two of them coworkers, then friends. Though unlike Iris and Westford, Lilly was a little smoother at finally popping the question, approaching Lydia late after a shift, asking if she wanted to go out some time. Then one time turned into another and another and another. But it was so rare for Lydia to have accepted an invitation at all. Of the quartet, she was easily the biggest loner. But for reasons only she and Lilly knew, she didn't feel much incentive to bond with other people.

Heh, dear old Mom and Dad don't hate me because I'm lesbian. They hate me because I'm me. Lydia thought sardonically. Ha! Maybe I made them homophobic! I don't recall them EVER having a problem with any of this BEFORE! She knew the idea was preposterous, but dark humor was the maddened mind's way of coping, turning the world upside down on its head.

Lilly had done that for Lydia too, but in a wildly different way. In the beginning, she symbolized freedom to Lydia, but as the time passed, she became something even more important: love. First love. Only love.

Lydia's hands tightened around her drink again. She prayed that if Lilly glanced over at her, she would assume it was the steam from the drink turning Lydia's face bright red. Lydia's bright blue eyes remain locked on her drink. She couldn't bring herself to look up and check if Lilly was looking at her. She knew the odds were low, but still, a girl could dream…

"Hey! I think there's one more Pride event this month if you two would want to meet us there?" Iris said suddenly, hopefully.

Oh, Lilly, don't—

"Sure!"

Iris turned to Westford, brown eyes shining. "Will we have to sneak you out again? All Zephyrus and Eurus style?"

"Sneak out?" Lilly blinked, alarmed.

"Are those your code names?" Lydia deadpanned at the same time.

"My dad," Westford nodded with a wince, looking at Lilly. "Oh! He's not homophobic or anything! He's just… the kind of guy that thinks the afternoon is better spent being productive than running around a hot and sweaty fair full of drugs and sex."

"He does realize it's a Pride Parade and not a strip club, right?" Iris joked, but her face and voice were sympathetic. As Westford's girlfriend, she knew of his tense relationship with his father all too well.

"Eurus isn't Iris, though," said Westford, now looking at Lydia, though he was too shy to meet her icy gaze. "Eurus is my sister."

"Ah. West and east wind." Lydia's face and voice were utterly flat, and Westford inwardly panicked.

"Y-yeah…" Northson, Southlynn, Eastla, Westford. That's us, the Mapp family… Only Iris, as his girlfriend, was supposed to know all that!

Oh, don't worry, West, Iris chuckled to herself. Everyone knows you have a sister. Besides, she doesn't go by "Eurus" when she's out in public, so it's not like we're gonna accidentally out her that way.

"Well, I'd be happy to drive, if anyone needs!" Lilly continued cheerfully, but before she could say more, her phone buzzed in her pocket. "Oh, right, break will be ending soon!"

Lydia gave a quiet but long-suffering sigh. Lilly, meanwhile, grinned as she grabbed Lydia's hand and hopped up from the table. "It was nice seeing you, Iris, Westford! Hope to see you guys at Pride! I can definitely text you all later to coordinate!" She waved them a quick farewell as she all but dragged her girlfriend to the door.

Lydia had to look away, but only because the moment she felt Lilly's fingers brushing against hers, her heartbeat sped up. Jeez, Lilly…

Westford watched them go, smiling wearily. I relate to that… At the same time, what a relief it was to be alone with only Iris again! Ugh, I'm too awkward and introverted for spontaneous social interactions like that! I probably looked like an idiot the whole time… I just hope I didn't say anything TOO dumb. It was a good thing Lilly was so patient and perceptive.

Now it was just him and Iris again. He leaned back in his seat, smiling as he listened to her latest topic of conversation. Like a perfect brew, her voice blended beautifully with the soft music from the speaker, the gentle murmur of the guests and staff, the persistent hiss of drinks being made, and the occasional chime of the bell above the door every time a new patron entered the "Let's Get Brew n Tea" café.

Chapter Text

"He's the greatest, he's fantastic! Wherever there is danger, he'll be there! Danger Mouse, Danger Mouse, DANGER MO—!"

"Yaaaaawn!" He stretched and greeted the rising sun, one eye opening and sliding to the window of his bedroom in the Danger Agency as the morning light slanted in. Without a thought, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up. Hmmm, that's odd… His feet hit the ground harder than normal. I don't usually sleep in my shoes, but it's hard work being a secret agent!

No doubt, he was out late last night on some epic adventure, saving the world and stopping bad guys. The Professor called him careless, but in his opinion, getting sleep was more important than making sure his shoes were—

Wait a nib! His eye widened. I don't wear shoes! He wore a belt, and had something of a Danger Agency uniform, but he usually ran around on just his—"WAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

"Chief?!" The bedroom closest to his came alive with activity a second later. "Chief?! CHIIIEEEF!" It was a good thing they were some of the only agents to live onsite. Or perhaps the others had since learned to sleep on the opposite side of the building from them.

ooo

"Good gravy!" Danger—uhh, well, he wasn't a mouse anymore—rubbed his chin as he peered in ceiling-high mirror in the corner of his bedroom. After getting over the shock of looking down and not seeing his paws—and then nearly getting his ears blasted off by Penfold—the two collided with one another in the hallway. A brief tussle ensued, each one thinking the other was an intruder, but once they managed to get their heads on properly (or at least, slightly properly), they reconvened in Danger—uhh's—room.

"We're human!" Penfold gasped, cupping his now furless hands around his suddenly flat mouth.

"Hmm… I'm not sure how I feel about this…" Danger Man narrowed his eye. On the one hand, it was still handsome him. He even wiggled his eyebrows at himself, smirking. But on the other… Eeeuugh… I DON'T look good with THIS much hair loss… All he had now was a short, spiky shock of white hair. The rest of him, to his embarrassment, felt horribly naked and exposed, even though he retained his uniform. And Penfold retained his, thank Heavens! Danger Man sighed.

"I know! We can ask the Professor!" Like Danger Man, all of Penfold's fur was gone, save for a short, brown crop at the top of his head.

"Why would I need to ask her about how I should feel about this?" Danger Man pouted.

"Wha-? No, not about that, Chief! About why we're human, and how to change back!"

"You think she had something to do with this?" Danger Man's eye narrowed again.

"Wha-? No!" Penfold sighed. "I just mean that of the lot of us, she's the best-equipped to figure it out and change us back! Or build us an invention to do that!"

Danger Man heaved a sigh of his own. He wasn't delighted at the thought about that hen getting a laugh at him while he looked like this, but Penfold had a point. Thus far, they had no idea what happened to them—beyond being turned into humans, of course—and like Penfold said, among the lot of them, Professor Squawkencluck was the smartest and brainiest.

ooo

"Oh my! I didn't realize you three were still having growth spurts…" Colonel K blinked as three… furless, featherless creatures walked into the Danger Kitchen of the Danger Agency. He might not have recognized them at first, if it weren't for the fact that they all came in at the same time, and wore just enough identifying clothing for the leader of the Danger Agency to hazard a danger guess.

There's that lad, with the eyepatch. That must be DM! And the short, chubby fellow beside him, Men-hold! So of course, that means the third lass with the glasses, spiky orange hair that looks like feathers, and irritated expression—

"Colonel." Professor Squawkencluck's voice was unusually cold, as if she was just barely holding back her usual, fiery squawks and huffs. "We are homo sapiens."

"Oh, yes, yes, that's right! It's Pride Month!" The chinchilla snapped his furry fingers. "Pray tell, is this some new form of traditional celebration?" He stroked his whiskered face, his hologram leaning toward the trio interestedly.

"What the—? NO!" Squawkencluck slapped her face, then muttered under her breath. "Oh, for the love of…" It was a good thing the Colonel could be so oblivious! She did her best to explain, in layman's terms. "This is way beyond the usual "growth spurt"! We aren't even our native species anymore!" She gestured frantically to herself, Danger Mouse, and Penfold. How could Colonel K be so quick to identify that it was them, yet so slow to realize that this was a huge, huge problem?!

"So this wasn't one of your little experimentations either, hmmm?" The Colonel raised his bushy brows, genuinely surprised.

"Wha—? No, no!" Squawkencluck waved frantically, some of her irritation turning into fearful denial.

"Oh, then there goes that theory," Danger Man muttered under his breath.

"What?!" Squawkencluck whipped around on him, hissing under her breath.

"N-now, now, Professor!" Penfold smiled nervously, stepping in between the other two, holding out his hands as consolingly as he could. "I did try to tell the Chief that it wasn't like you to just experiment on us without permission!"

"Well, sometimes her inventions go haywire!" Danger Man gestured impatiently at the hen-turned-human.

"Don't talk about me like I'm not right here!" Squawkencluck interrupted. "And besides, they malfunction because of your interference!"

"I haven't touched anything this time!" Danger Mouse frowned, crossing his arms.

"I know! Because this wasn't one of my inventions!"

While Penfold wilted, Colonel K couldn't help but smile to himself. If there was ever any doubt before as to who these three animals turned humans were, that doubt was totally dispelled by now.

"Hmmm, do you think it might be a rogue case of the Twysty-verse?" Danger Man tapped his chin.

"Human-cluck" sighed tiredly. "I don't know. Has anyone tampered with, or mishandled, any mirrors lately?" The three gentlemen in the kitchen with her all shook their heads, and she sighed again. "We've got quite a laundry list of villains to go through, but I need my breakfast first…"

As if all the fight had suddenly gone out of her, the hen-turned-human yawned into her fingered-hands and pushed her way into the kitchen.

"Och!" she cursed under her breath a second later. "Me cup's too small!" Once, it was tall and thin to accommodate her beak better. But now she didn't have a beak.

"Hmm… this should be… interesting…" Penfold tapped the tips of his fingers together nervously as he trailed after her into the kitchen.

"Ha! Penfold! You're finally big enough to eat with the grownups!" Danger Man taunted. For the first time ever, the hamster (well, he wasn't a hamster anymore, now was he?) was able to get into his seat without a stepstool.

Squawkencluck narrowed her eyes, but before she could chastise the mouse—man—he tried to leap casually into his seat beside Penfold, but his newfound weight quickly caused the chair to collapse. She heard the wood creaking, but not even Danger Man had time to jump up again.

"Woah!" Crack-CRASH!

"Karma…" the Professor snickered under her breath. Well, I must admit, things feel… easier to grab and to hold with fingers! She was self-sufficient, even as a hen, but these were sensations she'd never even considered before. Her fingers, which once were feathers, just felt stronger.

"Hmph!" she heard Danger Man mutter under his breath. "These portions are insultingly small now!" Maybe they were good enough for a mouse, but for a man? She glanced over her shoulder to see him pouting like a child, arms crossed. She looked away again a second later to conceal a snicker, and spare him his feelings. Well, she could not deny that it was concerning, suddenly waking up in bodies that were not their own—whether it was the Twysty-verse or not—but at least for that moment, she could see the humor in the situation.

"Yeowch!" They both heard Penfold yelp. When they turned, he was gripping his wrist, shaking the hand violently. Then he smiled at them, sheepish and embarrassed. "Uhh, Chief, could I borrow a pair of your white gloves? I guess it didn't occur to me that with less fur…"

While Squawkencluck chuckled under her breath again, she heard Danger Mouse sigh quietly.

"Do be careful that you don't stain the white fabric…"

"Don't worry, Chief!" Penfold saluted, slapping himself in the face with the gloves Danger Mouse had just given him.

Colonel K's hologram lingered a moment longer as he watched his three favorite agents bumble their way through the kitchen in their newfound bodies.

Heheheh, some things never change, do they? New package, old content. Are you a mouse, or a man, Danger M?

Chapter Text

"Ah! Morgan! Good! Glad you finally made it! Thanks for coming." Ruby offered the other Triarchon a dazzling grin and a small bow as she landed in front of him, folding her large, brown wings behind her. Her brown tail supported her, and his own insectoid wings buzzed in the faint breeze. His golden armor gleamed even in the darkness, catching the jewels on the chest plate like miniature suns in their own right, and his salmon tail reflected the color of his namesake.

"Of course." Morgan dipped her head politely. "Anything that threatens the Realm of the Golden Sun threatens the Realm of the Silver Moon, especially if it is also related to Silvanus…" Her earthy eyes flicked to the dark, twisted, mysterious forest that stood between the two Realms. In times of war, it was an excellent buffer, but blessedly, the Realms were presently in an Alliance Cycle. Though this then made Silvanus more of a hindrance than anything.

"Well, at least this means there's twice the number of people to protect it!" Ruby rested his hands on his hips, chest puffing out. And what could look better than THIS?! The Heirs of the two Realms! Fighting side by side!

In Morgan's mind, though, fighting was a last resort. This was just a Tracking mission, not a Trapping one. That was why each of them only brought along one other companion. They didn't need an entire army. Ruby brought his boyfriend and fellow Triarchon, Kane, who had the wings of a falcon and the tail of a seal.

And the attitude of a brat! Morgan's companion—her human girlfriend Lauren—thought with a smirk.

"Honestly, you guys can just leave the fun to me!" Kane grinned wickedly, gripping the curved blades that hung off his belt.

"No way, man! It's way more fun bonding with you!" Ruby insisted, nudging the smaller Triarchon's arm.

"Heh, ok, fair enough," Kane chuckled dryly, though his wing feathers fluffed, revealing his true, flustered feelings. Lauren scoffed under her breath. Kane heard it and whipped around. "You have a better plan, human?"

"Yeah," she said flatly. "Don't die."

Morgan gently touched her to calm her. "Kane's just eager," she said, voice even. Then she turned to Kane. "And Lauren's just concerned."

"I am not concerned!" Lauren pulled away from Morgan.

"I meant about me," Morgan replied, the barest of smiles flicking across her face. "I know you. You're always being my protector." Now it was Lauren's turn to feel the flusterment, and though she had no feathers to fluff, she prayed her face wasn't turning, well, ruby red. "Both of you have good focuses, and don't worry, I'll do whatever I can to help both of you in your endeavors!" That means keeping myself safe, and figuring out just what is threatening Silvanus… "This forest… it's unwell. Something's shifted."

Ruby shrugged, fiddling with a piece of his armor. "Then let's find whatever's making it weird, defeat it, and make sure I look fantastic in the victory portrait!" Kane scoffed, but then Ruby clapped his shoulder affectionately. "And you'll be my right-hand man rushing into battle right alongside me—I do love that about you—and posing in the portrait on my arm!" Despite himself, Kane raised his chin, the smugness increasing tenfold. This time, his feathers ruffled with pride. This time, Lauren managed to keep her thoughts to herself, but only just barely.

Then the quartet moved toward the dark, twisted tree line. It was as if the forest itself was opening up before them with a yawning sigh. The legends always said Silvanus was sentient, capable of communicating with those most in tune with it. It was time to put those legends to the test.

The dark forest was quiet in the wrong way. Not peaceful, but hollow. The trees didn't sway, even though wind curled through the twisted branches. Moss hung like curtains from skeletal limbs, and somewhere beneath the canopy, something cracked, but never fell. It was enchantment, but the forest still felt as if it was almost dead. But this was normal of Silvanus, so it was hard to tell if anomalies were springing up, or if the aura of the forest was just as grim and dark as it was supposed to be. The deeper they went, the dimmer the sunlight became.

"I feel like we're being watched," Lauren whispered, stepping closer to Morgan.

"You are being watched," Ruby muttered, scanning the trees. "They say even the trees have eyes, you know? Or maybe that's just all the creatures that live inside the trees." Lauren didn't bother replying, save to roll her eyes. Instead, she stayed close to Morgan's side.

I REALLY don't know why we had to do this, Morg! A moment later, though, she sighed. Yes. Yes she did. Morgan was just that kind of… person. Triarchon. Whatever. If someone—or something—needed help, she was there. And there was no way Lauren was letting her go alone. She didn't trust Ruby or Kane. Ruby struck her as too stupid and vain, and Kane struck her too impulsive and hostile. So that left Lauren no choice but to go after her girlfriend as they traversed the dark and scary forest. Cool. Just what I always wanted to do…

Morgan's eyes were half-lidded in concentration while Lauren kept watch for her. Her brown tail slid across the dirt with quiet grace, her fingers brushing bark and air, as if she was trying to draw in the very essence of the forest itself. Was it a form of a silent prayer to Silvanus? Was she imploring it for an answer? Even she was not in tune enough with Silvanus to fully communicate with it, but of the quartet, she did have the calmest and maturest mind. Of the four of them, she was the only one not distracted by other thoughts, motives, or desires.

In that moment, all she wanted was to know what was wrong with the dark forest…

Snap.

"What was th—?" They all whipped around. Lauren didn't even get to finish her question before they saw something skitter out of the corners of their eyes, through the tree line. Tall and spindly, its limbs were jointed like branches. Bark for skin, glowing sap for eyes…

"Xylomorph!" Morgan gasped, the first to identify it. "Tree-body!" Lauren was quick to leap in front of her, raising the fire poker that previously hung at her side. It was the closest she had to a weapon, won in a misunderstanding. As a human, she had no magical control whatsoever, but when a shadowy assassin tried to harm Morgan—Heir of Silver Moon—Lauren had lunged without thinking, using a fire poker as a sword. Her legend was cemented from that day forth! The only downside…

This is still just a powerless fire poker… But the moment she saw the spidery creature go skittering by again—as soon as she heard those accursed legs scuttling—her mind went blank again, and she shielded Morgan.

Kane summoned a swirling vortex at his side, wind sharpening to a slicing whistle. "I've got this."

Ruby stepped forward with an outstretched hand, flame coiling up his arm. "Finally! Foul beast, prepare to die!"

"F-f-foul beast?! Where?!" A childish voice whimpered, and for a second time, the quartet looked around wildly.

Wait a minute. Don't tell me—Lauren thought.

"Wait! I think that was the Xylomorph!" Morgan cried, but Ruby and Kane were already chasing the poor creature, fire and wind flying.

"Monster?! Where?!" The Xylomorph shrieked again. "Please don't let it eat me! I don't wanna die like that!"

"Wait, Ruby, wait! Stop! Kane! STOP!" Morgan, once summoning shields of earth to protect herself and her companions, swiftly sent the stones flying to surround the Xylomorph.

"What the—?! MORGAN!" Kane whipped around with murder in his eyes, the wind blades dancing around his wrists, wings, and head.

"I think that's a FRIEND!" It was uncharacteristic for her to shout, and she even had to draw in a deep breath first, but finally, even Ruby managed to hear her over his own vainglorious and airheaded thoughts.

Man, I am going to look so cool once this is all ov—wait, what is she shouting about now? He looked over his shoulder to see Morgan holding up her hands. A second later, he slammed into the shield of earth that she summoned around the Xylomorph. "Ouch. What was that for?"

"I think," Morgan repeated with a sigh, "that's a friend."

"Pfft, ugliest friend I've ever seen," Kane muttered under his breath.

Looked in a mirror lately? Lauren scoffed, but before she could speak, someone else answered Morgan.

"Yes, indeed, a friend. This little fellow was simply trying to show me around Silvanus…"

For a third time, the quartet was taken by violent surprise. Ruby gawked, "And just who are you?"

"I…" The voice sounded amused, then the dark tree line rippled, and something melted out of the shadow, like liquid night. It was a long, dark robe, and within the hood of that long, dark robe was a pale, bony face. "Am Silas Gray."

Silas…! Morgan knew that name was a derivative of Silvanus. Is this entity, this reaper?, perhaps a… manifestation of the forest itself?

As if reading her mind, Silas Gray chuckled softly and shook his dark, hooded head. "I am just… a traveler from another world."

"What?" Kane scoffed skeptically.

"Woah, no way…" Ruby was still gawking.

Morgan and Lauren, meanwhile, exchanged silent glances. Another world? Just how "other" was Silas talking? Because in some way, Lauren fit the bill. She was not from Gaia, not from that "part" of the world. The Realms of the Silver Moon and Golden Sun—and Silvanus between them—were places of magic. Where Lauren was from, magic did not exist. Or it wasn't supposed to.

"I am already on my way out," said Silas languidly, conversationally. "Your world has patterns I needed to observe."

"Patterns?" Morgan tilted her head.

"The cycles. How your Realms—Sun and Moon—shift between peace and war." His eyes glittered toward Ruby and Morgan. "You two. Once divided. Now allies. In some universes one way, in other universes another way…"

Ruby frowned. "You came across dimensions to watch us team up?"

Silas gave a small bow. "I find these alliances… fascinating. My own world is unraveling. I sought answers elsewhere."

"Can we help?" Morgan asked quickly.

"No," Silas said simply. "You can't. This is for my world and my world alone to solve. As I said before, I merely passing through… Consider me a humble student of magic, monsters, and multiverses."

Lauren stepped forward now, voice sharp. "Then why tell us anything? Why not disappear quietly?"

Silas turned his hollow gaze on her, smiling just slightly. "Maybe it has been too long since I've had someone to confide in, someone to share even a fraction of my story with… And perhaps the reason I chose you all in particular is precisely that you would find it hard to believe me. Maybe none of you ever will. And maybe that is for the best…" The pale, bony, old man managed to somehow recede even further into his long, dark robe, but under the pitch black hood Lauren thought she saw a flash of two, bright, scarlet eyes. He was bowing farewell.

"In any case, I apologize for the disturbances I caused. And yes, that was I. Your guardian forest simply did not know what to make of my presence, my sudden arrival within its territory. But I shall be going now."

It was then that Morgan and the others realized that in the time Silas had spoken to them, the little Xylomorph had since wandered off again. Then just like a movie being rewound, the shadows seemed to bleed from the trees again like ink, wrapping around Silas and his long, dark robe, enveloping him until there was nothing left. It was like he'd never even been there at all. But the forest felt a little bit lighter after his departure. A wind rustled through Morgan's hair, and she breathed a soft sigh. Whoever that old man was, she could only hope he'd learned whatever it was he needed to learn in order to save his world.

Chapter Text

"Thank you both, for coming out today…" Castorice's eyes drifted shut as she smiled at the two, tall, muscled men before her.

"Uhhh… I- I- I mean it's a pleasure…" Phainon's usual jovial, almost chivalrous greeting died on his tongue when his blue gaze drifted past her pale shoulder. Even though only he spoke, both he and Mydei's jaws hit the ground. Not even the ground! The layer of… who knows how much grass and plant matter? Their softspoken neighbor's lawn was complete, absolutely, utterly overrun by everything, flowers and weeds alike.

"I- I-… What is this…?" Mydei crossed his arms and scowled, not at Castorice, but in disbelief at the sorry state of her garden. Was garden even the right thing to call it anymore? It was more like an entire greenhouse! But even greenhouses were far more meticulous than… whatever this was. "There is no word in the Kremnoan dictionary…"

"Sorry!" Castorice gave an adorable, apologetic expression, little nose crinkling as she winced. "I've just been so busy writing and maintaining the agenda! I guess I let it get a little out of hand…"

Mydei scoffed. Wasn't that an understatement? But Phainon was a little kinder. "It just surprises me," he chuckled smoothly, composing himself. "I know you love to garden and tend to your flowers."

"That's why I really, really appreciate it that you both could come out here and help me today." She smiled disarmingly at him and Mydei. "I still have a lot of work on my plate, but I do want to get back to my garden soon, although in its current state…" She glanced at the jungle behind her. Hmm… Maybe I overdid it?

"Of course! Anything to help a friend!" Phainon nodded, and even Mydei grunted his assent. "Besides, it's such a lovely summer day out!" Phainon turned to the gleaming, golden sun above, hands on his hips as he smiled just as dazzlingly.

"Pfft. Ok, Apollo, you're gonna go blind from staring at the sun!" Mydei scoffed.

"Maybe you'll go blind from staring at me," Phainon replied smugly.

"Tch! What's that supposed to mean?" Mydei backed up, uncrossing his arms, but he was smirking too. All the while, Castorice stood quietly between them, still smiling serenely. Maintain the agenda was going perfectly! All exactly according to plan…

ooo

"I'll finish this lawn in half—no, a quarter!—the amount of time it will take you!" Phainon shouted over the roar of the lawn mower as he reclined in the seat, one hand on the steering wheel, smirking at Mydei over the top of his sunglasses.

"There is no word for "defeat" in the Kremnoan dictionary!" Mydei interrupted with a snort as he came out of the garage with a push mower. "But your name just might change that," he added a moment late with a wicked smile.

Ooh, good one, Phainon chuckled softly. "Well, be sure to get my good side when you put my picture in that dictionary." His tone was casual as he turned, cutting another swath along Castorice's front yard. "I'd imagine that will be more helpful to you than the written words."

He snickered while Mydei growled. "Get back to me when you've delivered on your promise, "deliverer"."

"Well between the two of us," Phainon passed Mydei again, "your name sounds closer to defeat. My-dei-feat? Haha!"

GrrrrrRRRRRR! Echoing the roaring lion in his chest, Mydei jerked the cord of the push mower as hard as he could, for just a second, it rumbled and purred right back at him.

Oh, yeah… that's the good stuff… For just a second, Mydei smiled. But then the mower sputtered and died. Huh? With a frown, he tugged the cord again. Still nothing. Oh, come on, you—!

SNAP! Mydei was left making a comical expression at the string dangling from his clenched fist. Hopefully Castorice wouldn't be too mad. Phainon laughed heartily, but for once, he decided to spare the other man's feelings, turning his mower away so Mydei couldn't see or hear him.

ooo

Although neither man would say it out loud, fairness was important to both of them. They took turns riding the mower and edging the lawn.

"All right," Mydei muttered. "Finally… Give me the keys. Now it's my turn." He smirked as Phainon did the same, tossing him the keys to the mower. But Phainon's eyes went wide when, after seating himself on the mower like it was a throne, Mydei promptly grabbed the bottom of his white tee shirt and yanked it over his head in one, swift, smooth pull.

Woah… Suddenly Phainon was left staring at impeccable pecs and abs that glistened in the sun. And to think, just moments ago, when the roles were reversed, Phainon had joked about seeing Mydei in a large, straw hat and equally large, blue overalls.

"Haha! You look like the perfect, classic farm boy!" Phainon had shouted on his last pass through Castorice's front yard. "Working hard in the fields, eh? An honest day's work!"

"Don't patronize me, Manure Master!" Mydei didn't miss a beat, looking up from his work edging the yard to wipe the sweat from his chiseled, furrowed, glistening brow. It was all Phainon could do not to whistle. But luckily, he was more focused on Mydei's latest barb than how handsome he looked, leaning casually against the lawn mower as they flirted and bantered.

"Takes one to know one!" Phainon instead replied, lifting his chin tauntingly. If Mydei was going to take a shot at the fact that Phainon had grown up on a farm, then Phainon was going to take Mydei down with him. "Though you're right, I've been told by others—and I would say so myself—that I'm quite a master at fertilizing!" Mydei had almost, almost, tripped while Phainon bit his lip to swallow more laughter.

But now Phainon was the tongue-tied one. It was something about Mydei perched so haughtily atop that lawn mower, even though it looked kind of silly… The casual and cool disdain in his flaming eyes… the way he turned each curve so smoothly and expertly, without even trying… And yes, of course, the way he looked shirtless in the summer sun…

ooo

A childish giggle was the first thing to interrupt Phainon's wandering thoughts. And eyes. "Delivering warmth!"

"Tribbie!" He stepped back, blinking. Three little redheads held out glasses of lemonade to him. When he looked up, he could see a lemonade stand just across the street, in front of their house. Another, older girl—with pink hair—had come with them. She held an armful of towels and smiled at him politely when their eyes met. "Hyacine!"

Phainon couldn't help but chuckle. "I don't know if warmth is really what we need right now," he joked as he took a drink of Tribbie.

"Tch! Pathetic! So feeble…" Mydei drove up behind Phainon, then the mower roared to a halt as the handsome, muscled man leapt off of it. "You think this summer is hot? This is nothing compared to a Kremnoan summer!"

"Well, unlike you, I have just enough intelligence to know that dehydrating myself will only put me at a disadvantage when we move to the backyard," Phainon answered calmly as he sipped on his lemonade, meeting Mydei's eyes over the rim, lifting a delicate, white eyebrow.

"Tch! It would be a much better competition if that stupid other mower didn't break on me!" Mydei crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes as he fought the urge to look over his shoulder and scowl at the useless hunk of junk sitting dejectedly in Castorice's driveway. Although, the Kremnoan finally noticed another one of his neighbors, sunbathing in her own front yard.

"Hey, Aglaea, you got any string you could lend me?" he joked, raising his voice a little so she would hear him.

Without removing her sunglasses, still reclining in her seat in her own front yard, she answered him evenly. "They are too precious to me for me to want them to meet such a bitter fate at your hands." Her tone was icy, though she was teasing.

"Doesn't Ms. Castorice own one of those… robotic lawn mowers?" Anaxagoras had been outside in his yard too, trimming the hedges that surrounded his property. He poked his head around the edges when he heard Mydei call out to Aglaea, taunting her.

"I am sorry." Castorice happened to poke her head outside that exact moment, having watched from the window of the front door. "Cipher stole it—" She didn't even get to finish before a voice from above complained down at her.

"No I did not! That useless hunk of junk has no parts or pieces worth salvaging! Whether for the computer parts, or even just the metal and plastic!" The girl, clad in her usual cat-eared hoodie, was lurking on Castorice's roof.

"What the—?" Mydei narrowed his eyes while Phainon widened his, but Castorice treated it as completely normal.

"You don't have to do the backyard today if you need to rest," she told Phainon and Mydei. "I'm still working on projects of my own, so I don't need this done today. But if you're willing, I would love for you to come back some other day, only if you have time to, though…"

"Nonsense! I can finish it all today!" Phainon puffed out his chest. "Even if you don't need it, I'm not tired at all!" He returned his empty glass to Tribbie, smiling. "Thanks! That lemonade sure was refreshing and rejuvenating!"

"Yay! We're glad we could help!" the triplets smiled up at him.

"Tch, showoff!" Mydei shouldered past him. "Don't let him speak for me," he said, addressing Castorice.

"Oh, what, did you want to go inside and—?" Phainon didn't get to finish.

"I could finish the mowing and edging and everything else, and in only half a day!"

Phainon chuckled under his breath. "Oh, is that so?" You're so on…!

Just like before, Castorice gave them a gracious bow, backing away quietly, watching with a gleam in her eyes as Mydei and Phainon resumed their positions on her front lawn and she resumed hers at the window of the front door.

"Hiya, Pollux!" she greeted the bearded dragon that waited patiently for her return. As soon as she was inside again, she draped the scaley creature across her shoulders. Pollux chittered and chattered in her ear, and she smiled and nodded. "Oh yes, maintaining the agenda is going splendidly!" She paused and peered out the window, taking notes on Phainon and Mydei for her next fanfic idea. Oh, yes, all exactly according to plan…

Chapter Text

Mikoto leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head, spiked boots on the little, old, rickety desk in front of him. The spikes themselves had been clumsily glued and taped on, the mark of personal flair rather than the seller's choice. The slender young man also wore a leather jacket, and leather biker gloves just a little too big for his bony hands.

"Oh, man, I am awesome!" he murmured to himself. "Ha, ha! Before long, the whole school will know my name!"

"As if they don't already!" Sitting beside him was a shorter high schooler who introduced themself as Harley. They were also clad in a dark jacket and dark pants, but while Mikoto's hair was silvery white, Harley's was dark blue. They fiddled with their cap nervously. Ordinarily, they would've worn it—in fact, not too long ago, they had!—but after being dragged back into the building for detention… "Mannn, I've never been in trouble like this before!" they murmured anxiously. "What if this goes on my permanent record, or something?"

"Awww, I wouldn't worry about it." Sitting beside Harley was Fred, wearing the same thick, dark sunglasses as Mikoto. He leaned out of his seat, tipping the entire desk with him as he wrapped a chummy arm around his best friend.

"Ooof!" Harley choked, smothered by the sleeve of Fred's black, baggy hoodie.

"This is just extra time with the Friend Squad Gang!"

"The what—?" Sitting behind Mikoto was a tall, dark, mysterious young man they knew as Taro. He scoffed under his breath as his hand shot forward, grabbing the back of Fred's hoodie and giving it a single, sharp tug, separating him from Harley. Harley panted in relief, hand on their heart. Taro couldn't help but smirk slightly. He emoted little, and said even less, but whenever he did open his mouth, he was sharp as a knife.

Sitting on Mikoto's other side, Miriam sighed softly to herself, the sound laced with regret and remorse. "I'm sorry, everyone…"

"It wasn't just your fault," Harley was quick to defend her, catching their breath. "We were all there. Heck, that's why we're all here!"

"That is true," Miriam nodded, a small smile spreading across her face. "But still, I want to apologize for my part in all of… this."

"I don't!" Mikoto bragged loudly.

"Yeah, we know you don't," Harley muttered, and Taro's eyes seemed to say the same. Everyone—staff and student alike—knew that Mikoto was a (wannabe) bad boy rebel. In his own words—

"I'm gonna be a bad boy biker next! The leader of a cool, underground street gang and everything! Just you wait until I get my license! Wait. What am I saying? Why would I even need to wait for that?! I'm not gonna follow the rules!"

That was why Harley had remarked earlier that the entire school likely already knew his name. This little "noodle incident" was but one in a looong line of bad ideas ("evil schemes") orchestrated by "mastermind" Mikoto.

We have enough "noodles" in this pot to feed an entire country! Harley thought with a sigh. "Only you, Mikoto, would see detention as a badge of honor," they murmured under their breath.

"I was just there because Mikoto asked me to be there," Fred shrugged. "I thought it was more friend time."

"Yeah, and I was trying to keep you safe!" Harley sighed again, this time with more exasperation. The moment the final bell rang to signal the end of school, when Mikoto slid from the lockers and shadows, waving to Fred with a friendly and devilish grin, Harley knew he was up to something. When was he ever not? And it wasn't even just malice either. Sometimes, Mikoto genuinely seemed to forget how many wild ideas he could try to execute in a day, so in a way, he treated each one as if it was completely new.

"I think a little light vandalism is in order!" He'd winked, even though he was wearing thick, dark sunglasses. "Something to leave a mark, ya know? Gotta get the name out there somehow!" So he stole a gadget belonging to one of their other classmates, Eastman.

"I know you're a mall ninja, right? A weapons freak! This will do perfectly well!" He snatched the device from the other boy, barely even bothering to look at it. Dumbfounded, Eastman could only race after him, another person swept up by Mikoto's antics. But there was a hint of curiosity in Eastman too. Just what the heck did Mikoto even mean "leaving a mark"?

With Fred—and unintentionally, Harley—covering him, Mikoto sprinted to the flagpole directly in front of the school and SMASHED the metal object from Eastman against it. He'd sent Miriam to another exit of the school to create a distraction to lure the teachers there, and Taro watched it all from the shadows, amused. Although Mikoto was caught before he could cause any serious damage or harm.

"SON! JUST WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" One of the campus police bellowed. It was through dumb luck alone that Mikoto didn't get a chance to answer honestly. Instead, Taro stepped forward smoothly and took the blame, insisting it was just a dare, and he didn't think Mikoto would actually do it. But no matter how noble Taro's motives might've been, although all of them were spared any criminal charges, the entire lot of them was swept away to detention.

"Seriously, what did you think that device was going to do?" Eastman asked, seated beside Miriam.

"I dunno. Blow up? Something cool, like in the movies?" Mikoto shrugged. It took everything in Harley not to facepalm.

"What even was it?" Miriam turned to him.

"I was trying to build a replica tank in robotics class today. That was just the body. I was going to try to make it a fully-functioning tank! But I couldn't figure out how to wire anything to shoot projectiles. At least not before class let out."

"Oh, so it was going to be a weapon!" Mikoto was delighted.

"To do cool stuff! Not be smashed against a flagpole until it blew up!"

"Hmm, I wonder—" Fred tapped his chin, looking around slowly. "Where's the person who's supposed to lead this detention anyway?"

"Heh, if the teacher's 15 minutes late to class, we get to go home," Eastman couldn't help but joke.

"But this isn't class?" Fred tapped his chin again.

"Well, how about a jailbreak, fellas?" Mikoto cracked his knuckles, finally sitting up. But of course, at that very moment, the door rattled.

They all gasped when the door swung open. Harley sputtered, voice higher than usual. "B-Buchanan?!" The school janitor?

"Ms. Roths was… busy with something else, so I was given permission to oversee detention today," said the janitor as he closed the door quietly behind himself, taking a seat at the desk at the front of the room.

"Are you going to make us do lines, sir?" Fred raised his hand. Mikoto snickered and even Taro smirked slightly.

"No," Buchanan replied, face softening slightly. "I was just going to make it a study hall. But use the time wisely." He flashed them a stern look a moment later. The old man could've been off enjoying his retirement, but he instead worked at the local high school part time, both to support his family back home, and his family at the school.

Whew! Inwardly, Harley sighed in relief. Ms. Roths was scarier, stricter. Even though Buchanan could be a little intimidating too, Harley had come to see the old man's fatherly side, and they felt safer knowing detention was going to be overseen by him.

"Sweet! No lines!" Eastman and Mikoto both fist-pumped the air.

"I wonder," said Taro suddenly, "if Ms. Roths really was busy with something else, or if that's just what you told her."

A rare sight, Buchanan smiled. Well, it was more of a smirk, but the old man's lined face always made him look a little grizzled and coarse. "Your mind is truly a fascinating thing."

"Is it that preposterous?" Taro couldn't help but snort. "After all, Mikoto's display was quite… public."

"Heck yeah it was!" Mikoto crossed his arms smugly.

"Would it have been that hard to slip away and ask Ms. Roths to handle some other matter while you volunteer to look after us since you somewhat know us?" Of course Buchanan didn't want to be accused of favoritism, but some of the staff knew which students he spoke to on a regular basis. "A truly wild theory would be speculating that you helped prevent us from facing a harsher punishment."

Ah, insinuating I have connections to the campus police? And that maybe that was why I was comfortable enough to slip away and make up some lie for Ms. Roths? "I don't know if literature if your favorite class, but I can imagine Sherlock is your favorite book."

Taro shrugged, though a small smile was still on his face. "I have a twin brother, Tadashi. He graduated early, so that's why none of you know him. He's off at college now, studying criminal justice. He was always the goody-two-shoes, straight-A honors student."

"W-wait… really?" Harley's eyes widened. Do I dare believe that? Taro only shrugged again.

"In any case," Buchanan cleared his throat, turning to the others, "as I stated before, this detention is a study hall. I would suggest you use this time to do your homework—" Mikoto sighed dramatically. Buchanan narrowed his eyes.

"Ok, fiiinnne…" Mikoto slouched in his seat before reaching halfheartedly into his black and red backpack, the edgiest one he could find. Bemused, one by one, the others did the same.

ooo

The rest of detention passed peacefully, even Mikoto temporarily tamed. When the hour was up, Buchanan rose from his seat with a sigh, gesturing for the others to do the same.

"You kids need a ride home?"

"Whew!" Harley and Miriam sighed in relief as all the group happily took up Buchanan's offer.

"Yes! Freedom! Sweet freedom!" Mikoto cheered, voice echoing down the empty halls. Man! I feel STRONG! Getting to SHOUT LIKE THIS when NO ONE IS AROUND!

"Woo hoo! Yeah! It's Friday, Friday! Gotta get down on—" Fred sang, copying Mikoto.

"But it's Thursday!" Eastman cried, following after them. Buchanan came out last, locking the door behind them.

Heh… This scene reminds me of a movie…

"Oooh! Oooh!" Fred hopped up and down, suddenly getting an idea. "Since we're basically a found family, shouldn't we have a team name? Like a squad name for our friend group or something? We could call ourselves… the Detention Club!"

Taro raised an eyebrow, voice dry. "That's a lot of friendship and family terms in one sentence…"

Mikoto puffed his chest out. "As leader, I get dibs on naming rights. How about… 'Awesomeness R Us'?! Or 'Awesome R Us' for short!"

"Is it that much shorter?" Harley murmured.

"More like 'Accidents R Us!'" Taro agreed, snickering softly.

Harley's cheeks flushed. "Honestly, 'Awkward R Us' would fit me as a personal title…"

"Alibis R Us?" Eastman suggested next.

Miriam blinked, puzzled. "Why does it have to be 'Any R Us' at all?" After a moment of pause, laughter echoed among the group as they filed out of school for a second time, this time homeward bound.

Chapter Text

Ice-blue eyes closed slowly. The little girl didn't even bother to brush the frozen tears from her pale cheeks. What was the point? More would replace them. And maybe there was a tiny part of her that liked the pain, that felt she deserved it. After all, wasn't that what wicked witches deserved? Kill the witch. Burn the witch. That was how every story Elsa ever read about witches ended, and as the queen of isolation, Elsa had more than enough time to read.

Even then, she half-considered getting up from her snow-dusted bed and heading over to her ice-edged desk. It was as cold as she was miserable, but maybe a book would help her escape, even if only for one night. But she felt too heavy to leave the bed. It was as if she was frozen to the sheets, the blankets themselves the snowdrift in which she would die. She managed to pry open a single eye, though, and caught a flicker of something green in the night sky above.

"The sky's awake! So I'm awake! So we have to play!" The remnants of a memory—one of the last good ones she'd ever had—echoed around her head. Elsa bit her lip. No more tears came, but the sting was all too real.

"I wish…" she murmured, still staring at the dancing sky above. No. Don't wish. Don't start. Wishing only wounds the heart… "I wish I could go… somewhere over the rainbow…"

Heavy hung the head that wore the crown, but for Elsa, it wasn't just the weight of future responsibility pressing down upon her shoulders. How was she supposed to have a life, a family, of her own if she couldn't even be trusted to be around them? All she could do was watch as life passed her by, curbing and suppressing every emotion, positive or negative, for fear that they would simply be too strong and scare everyone away. It was a horrid thing to think about, but one day, even the king and queen would pass, and it would just be Elsa and Anna in that big, lonely palace.

A vision flashed through Elsa's mind, of Anna dancing happily outside. She was an adult in that vision. The golden sun was above, and the emerald grass was below, and there was someone—a man—on Anna's arm, dancing with her. Elsa couldn't see the face, the vision was hazy, but she envied him and Anna bitterly. Anna had a chance to grow up someday and leave that awful castle. But not Elsa. She would never have the same chance to be… normal. Free. There would never be anyone to take Elsa's hand…

Well, maybe that's a good thing… Elsa sighed again. It wasn't just fear for her hypothetical partner's safety that held her back. As she and Anna aged, while she sometimes heard the tail end of Anna's excited conversations, talking about prince charmings to sweep her off her feet and take her on glorious adventures around the world, Elsa found herself far less enamored with the idea. But she'd seen a few beautiful young women occasionally coming and going from the castle, visitors from other kingdoms, and Elsa wouldn't have minded seeing the world with one of them…

With an embarrassed, frustrated groan, Elsa pulled the pillow over her head and tried desperately to get to sleep.

ooo

"Woah…" The next time Elsa opened her eyes, she was lying… outside! In an emerald green field with gold corn and wheatfields in the distance. "I have a feeling I'm not in Arendelle anymore…" Even though she was afraid, it was a curious sort of fear; the kind that drove her forward to explore even though she normally would've hung back and waited. "Where am I…?" She lost track of her trek through the green and gold, passing a field of bloodred poppies. That was when she heard a sharp, childish, reprimanding voice.

"Hey! Who are you? And how did you get here?"

Elsa whipped around in alarm, then couldn't help but jump back with a shriek. A humanoid figure stood before her, clad in black from head to toe, with long, wild, dark hair that framed her face. Her face was precisely what had made Elsa scream.

"Y-you're…! You're…! You're green!"

For a moment, the green girl's dark eyes widened in horror, and she gasped. "No, really?" She looked down at her hands, but when her sharp brown eyes met Elsa's icy blue ones again, she was smirking. "All right. Let's just get this out of the way. No, I'm not seasick. Yes, I've always been green. And no, I don't eat grass! I'm not those stupid Munchkin boys…!" She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. Of the lot of them, the other children she grew up with and worked in the fields with, only Boq had any sort of sense, and didn't just have straw and manure for brains.

Elsa could only gawk, wringing her hands, completely at a loss for words. All she knew was that she'd upset the other person. No, girl. She was just a young girl, just like Elsa herself. Oh dear… I didn't mean to offend her…

The green girl continued to eye the white-haired warily, arms crossed, expression guarded. But after a moment, her eyes lingering on Elsa wringing her hands regretfully, her own sharp, sour look softened. Slightly.

"Oh, never mind all of that. I'm Elphaba. Elphaba Thropp. Third Descending of Nest Hardings." Even though she scrunched up her little green nose and even raised her chin slightly like a girl with the grace and poise of a palace princess, the disdain that flashed in Elphaba's deep, brown eyes made her true feelings about her "royal title" clear. This was just a formality. "You lost?"

"I- I- I'm Elsa… of Arendelle… Ummm, I'm not sure what generation off the top of my head," she admitted sheepishly, "but I'm… heir to the Arendelle throne…" Her smile was sheepish too. Why did it feel like bragging to say that. "And, yes… I'm lost…"

"Hmm." Elphaba just looked at her and blinked, nodding as she stored the information away in her mind. "I dunno where… Arendal is, but you can come back with me to my house. Maybe my father will be able to help you." Of course, she was far from his biggest fan, but she could at least acknowledge that being a Thropp had a few perks. Elphaba shrugged and took Elsa's hand without hesitation, dragging her eastward.

"Woah!" Elsa cried out, terrified she would harm the other girl, but if any ice escaped her, young Ms. Elphaba didn't even seem to notice. For just a second, Elsa couldn't help but wonder, does the green skin insulate her? For the first time in forever, Elsa felt a flicker of hope.

ooo

The two children walked through the fields of grass, poppy, corn, and wheat, chatting about everything and nothing. Elsa knew she should've been on guard. It was foolish for an heir to be so open and honest, especially with a girl she just met. But even though Elphaba could be a little mean and scary, a little intimidating and standoffish, Elsa felt a strange sense of ease around her that she felt around no one else.

Not even Anna. It was as if she and Elphaba had known one another in another lifetime, as perhaps silly as it sounded. Elsa even dared confide in the green-skinned girl, in Elphaba, that she was… well… a wicked witch. She could control all the strength, power, and ferocity of winter, the Queen of Ice and Snow.

"Oh, that's cool," said Elphaba.

"No, it's really not," Elsa sighed, lamenting, hugging herself, looking away ashamed.

"Well, I sort of get it," Elphaba shrugged, and for just a second, Elsa wanted to harshly tell her off. She wouldn't deny that Elphaba must've had a hard life, with skin as green as it was. But did Elphaba really understand what it felt like to have unexplained magical powers with the propensity to hurt people? Yes, in fact. Yes she did.

Elphaba smirked at Elsa, almost mischievous, finally letting go of her hand, but only so she could show the Snow Queen something.

"Woah…" Elsa gasped as Elphaba held up her palm, and then a red ball of fire puffed into existence just above her skin. As the flame rotated in Elphaba's hand, even the color shifted, from red and gold to greenish and even bluish.

But the ostracization the two children felt went even deeper than skin, or magic. Elsa—although it made her blush—even found herself confiding in Elphaba that she, well, might've had feelings for and attractions to other girls. She recounted some of the noble ladies who visited Arendelle from time to time, and even though Elsa never dared spend too much time with them, some of them were so captivating that she was sure she could've stayed and listened to them talk forever.

"I just wish I could be normal. Just once! In at least one way!" The white-haired girl admitted.

"What's weird about it?" Elphaba asked, tilting her head and shrugging. "Even I've had crushes before." She raised her nose, as if proud.

"But on other girls though?" Elsa winced again.

"Sure." Elphaba nodded. "Gender never meant much to me anyway. 'pparently, when I was born, even the midwives didn't know what I was." She grinned wickedly, as if the ambiguity delighted her, and even more so, the adults' befuddled reactions to the ambiguity.

"S-so are you… a boy?" Elsa asked, surprised. Then inwardly, she cringed at herself again. Was it wrong of me to assume she—I mean Elphaba—was a girl? I guess it was the long hair, but then again, I have sometimes seen boys with their hair in ponytails. Additionally, although little Elsa lacked the words for it, Elphaba had a rather square and angular jaw, which was perhaps part of what threw some adults.

Elphaba only shrugged again. "I guess it never did matter much to me."

"Then… what should I call you?" Elsa fretted.

"Elphaba," said Elphaba.

Elsa sighed, still not understanding—and feeling foolish for it—but she nodded. "All right then, Elphaba."

Elphaba, amused, chuckled softly. "Everyone says I'm a girl, and they call me "she" and "her", so I guess that's what you can do too." Well, it's "she" or "her" if they're feeling generous, she thought with another bitter smile. Otherwise, it's "it"…

She could hear her father's angry bellow on the day she was born, echoing around her memory as well. "Take it away… TAKE IT AWAY!"

It still stung, but Elphaba no longer flinched. Instead, she walked on impassively, still guiding Elsa and leading the way home. And Elsa, though still lacking the words to fully describe their connection, trusted her implicitly. Maybe, just maybe, the Queen of Isolation had a consort, or at least a friend.

Chapter Text

Forks clattered against plates as the last of the spaghetti was polished off. The smell of garlic and tomato sauce lingered in the air, softened by the distant hum of the refrigerator harmonizing with the buzzling, fluorescent lights.

"Put your plates in the sink when you're done," said Iris with a light and airy tone, not looking up from her own plate as she addressed her and Storm's two children.

"Yes, Mama!" First, there was Princeton's voice, soft and low. Then there was Jess', slightly louder and higher. The moment Princeton got up from his seat, Jess grinned wickedly, calculating… They shifted their body so their mothers couldn't see, picking up a single, half-noodle they'd saved precisely for this occasion. The moment Princeton's back was turned—

SLAP!

"Eew!" Princeton jumped forward, shoulders rising around his ears as he felt something cold and slimy stick to the back of his neck.

"Jess!" Iris and Storm spoke in unison, both of them finally looking up, narrowing their eyes at their younger child.

"S-sorry!" Jess gave a crooked smile as they tried and failed to look apologetic. Iris sighed quietly while Storm's grip tightened around her utensils. She said nothing, but for just a single second, she'd seen red.

"Gross!" Princeton muttered, crinkling his nose as he picked the noodle off and tossed it dismissively in the sink.

"Oh, it didn't hurt!" Jess sighed, muttering under their breath as they finally took their plate over to the sink as well.

"Jess," Iris repeated, a light tone of warning entering her voice now.

"Yes, Mama…"

Princeton eyed the shorter child warily, dodging out of the way when Jess opened the dishwasher door.

They sighed and rolled their eyes. You big baby!

ooo

Hours later, the house was as dark as it was quiet. Upstairs, the children were asleep. Iris had just finished tucking them in. It was her turn, since Storm had done it last night. Tomorrow, they would do it together. Downstairs, Storm sat alone on the couch. Even the TV wasn't keeping her company, though she still stared at the blank screen, unblinking. Iris sighed. She already knew something was troubling the other woman, but she knew that her wife would never admit it. At least not directly.

"Something on your mind?" she asked, clearing her throat as she entered the living room.

"I'm fine," Storm replied tightly.

That's not what I asked. Iris smiled bittersweetly, but knew from years of wisdom and experience not to push it. Instead, she took a quiet seat beside her wife on the couch and said nothing, leaning over, gently resting against her.

Silence filled the space between them until Storm finally gave a quiet exhale. "Don't you… ever worry about them…?"

Iris couldn't help but laugh, but not at Storm. "I worry about how much I worry about them." Storm's eyes widened in surprise, though Iris didn't see it, cheek resting on the taller, older woman's shoulder, eyes shut. "It wasn't about dinner, though, was it?" No matter how clever Storm thought she was, Iris knew it would've taken far more than one "fight" at dinner to make her this pensive.

I know she worries about Princeton, because he's trans, and he's such an introverted homebody. She doesn't want anything to happen to him. And Jess, heh, well, they're a handful, and Storm just doesn't want them to do anything that could harm them. How did Iris know all of this so well? Because they were the exact same worries she shared.

"I got… really angry earlier," Storm finally said, her voice low. "I didn't say anything. Didn't yell. Didn't slam anything. But it was… sharp. Like it hit me all at once, and for a second, I was afraid of myself." Iris stayed quiet, but Storm felt the smaller, younger woman tense up beside her as she understood that this wasn't just Storm worrying about their children. She also worried about herself.

Storm's voice thickened. "I just… sometimes I look at them, and I think they don't take anything seriously. Like they're drifting! And I get scared because they're so young, and they act so helpless sometimes, and I think, what happens when we're not around to catch them anymore?" Her shoulders hunched. "And then I remember my parents… How angry they were all the time. And now I finally get it…"

The silence that hung between them was tense, and even Iris scarcely dared breathe, but as the silence prolonged, she finally reached out and rested her hand on top of Storm's.

"I know, I know," Storm said quickly, pulling in a shaky breath. "I didn't do anything wrong. I didn't yell. You'll tell me it wasn't my fault, reassure me that I didn't hurt anyone, but… I felt it! I still felt it… And yes, I know feelings aren't actions, but… I don't want to even feel that way!"

"Of course you don't," said Iris quickly, stomach twisting inside of her. Jeez, she took the words right out of my mouth! Then again, she's right… I know those comforts always felt kind of… hollow, empty words. We all wish we were better than we actually are… "But I just wanted to say, it's reassuring that you're able to talk about this so well."

Storm gave a harsh, dry laugh. "You only say that to make me feel better." How does the old saying go? "You're my spouse, you're supposed to be on MY side!" But how can I trust that? What if I AM wrong…? "Plus," she added, swallowing, "your parents were always better than mine…" It wasn't a comparison she usually brought up—not out loud, at least—but it was the truth. Iris had far less to fear about herself than Storm.

"I can't deny that," Iris admitted, nodding, wincing. "But I still have my own flaws. And I'm not just saying that to make it about me, or anything like that," she added, wincing again, but this time at her own inelegance rather than the situation. "I may have had a relatively… boring upbringing, but I still have my… issues, I guess you could say," she chuckled weakly. As she wracked her brains, though, her memories blurred. Something didn't seem quite right… Were Princeton and Jess truly her children…? Something felt missing…

Iris was suddenly aware she was still talking, in the middle of another sentence. "—of losing people, I guess. That's my worst fear. Sorry, I know it's really common and cliché, and I already know you're going to try to comfort me too, but definitely, I worry about not being good enough. And I don't mean innately, like a bad person. Just… letting others down, making mistakes that cause problems bigger than expected."

"But… you haven't let us down before, at least not after some irreparable mistake," Storm murmured, puzzled.

Iris gave a soft, sad smile. "Funny. That's how I feel about your fear." Heh, look at us, each worried about ourselves, but completely trusting in the other. I almost wish we could swap brains for a day…

After a moment of silence, Storm cleared her throat awkwardly. "Iris. If you were ever… worried about something getting too big, I would try to help you, you know? All you have to do is ask…"

"Heh. Yeah, I know." And you ALSO know that both of us are PROBABLY going to reach out for help later than we should've, but that's beside the point! My point is…

"We both have to do this," Storm continued. "It's a partnership, a balance. I wouldn't blame solely you…"

"Right. Exactly. Good. I'm glad you agree. It takes two to tango, heh."

"Wait… Huh?" For a moment, Storm could only blink. She needed a moment to process.

"That's the conclusion I was hoping you'd come to since the second we started talking," Iris chuckled softly.

Storm's eyes widened as it finally sank in. This whole time, Iris was trying to comfort her, but without being too obvious about it. And one of the ways she did it was by showing her own vulnerability, allowing Storm to assume the role of protector again, and come to a conclusion that Iris wanted her to the entire evening.

I'm… lucky… Storm still didn't feel quite brave enough to say it all out loud, but she smiled at Iris affectionately. For the first time since before dinner, some of the worry that lined her face lessened. Her eyes drifted shut as she rested her cheek against Iris' head, Iris' cheek resting against her shoulder. Before she knew it, she was asleep.

Chapter Text

"Think of it, Becky—"

"Beca."

"Your own office! All to yourself! Not bad for an intern, eh?" Sammy's smug, smarmy tone was more self-aggrandizing than anything.

"Sure. Whatever you say, sir…" Beca sighed to the ceiling, the echoes of her earlier conversation with her boss circling her head. Man, I REALLY need to stop letting his promises hype me up. You'd think I'd know better by now…

Getting in good graces with Sammy was supposed to be, well, good, but despite Beca's best efforts at upward mobility, she was still barely above the level of a coffee girl. This so-called "private office" was practically an empty broom closet, and Beca knew for a fact that it belonged to another producer that had stormed out just days prior after an argument with Sammy. How did she know? Because she'd heard it like halfway across the building as the diva-like producer stormed out. Now Sammy had to fill that office, that producer job, with someone. He knew Beca dreamt of being a producer, even though he didn't seem to know much else about her, including her name. Oh well. It would have to do for then.

Beca sighed again, half-sprawled in a swivel chair like she'd been molded into it. Her dark hoodie was pushed up to her elbows, and her headphones hung around her neck, vibrating faintly with the heavy bass she'd been looping for the past 20 minutes.

"H-hello?" Beca nearly missed it, but there was a soft knock at her "office" door.

That's how I KNOW it's not Sammy. He'd never knock, Beca smiled wryly as she sighed, hanging her headphones around her neck again as she swiveled to the door to throw it open. A second later, her mind went completely blank. Woah…

There, in the doorway, was a woman. She was tall, blonde, and immaculately put together, as if she'd just walked out of a fashion mag.

You sure you're in the right room, lady? We're a record label, not a modeling agency. For just a second, Beca's heart skipped like the turntables at her fingertips just moments ago. Come on, Beca, be cool, be cool… Don't be an idiot!

"You lost?" she asked, voice calm and low. "Or are you here to steal my office?" Knowing my luck, this lady IS some new hire. And… if her music sounds as good as she looks… Wait! What?

The woman tilted her head slightly, blonde hair flashing in the light, her piercing blue eyes scanning the room. First the monitors and laptops, then the turntables, and then finally Beca, herself. For a moment, the woman only stared. Under normal circumstances, Beca's inner voice would've chastised her for staring. But Beca was staring too. Although for different reasons. For while Beca was lost in the beauty and splendor of the other woman, the other woman seemed to be searching for the right thing to say.

As if she could say anything wrong, ever!

"I am Luisa Mina Meyer," the tall, blonde woman finally said. Her voice was low, Beca's knees turned to jelly just hearing her say her name, and she completely missed the other woman's subtle accent… It was a good thing Beca was sitting down! "I'm a new intern. I… moved here, to work for Residual Heat, and make a name for myself in the music industry." For just a moment, she raised her chin, a mix of pride and hope in her eyes that took Beca's breath away again. Ordinarily, her inner voice would've offered up another barb.

So, Sammy replaced me already, huh? It's not like I haven't heard this story before. Someone moves out of their small town to a big city with the dream of becoming the next Taylor Swift.

But if there was anyone capable of doing that, Beca would've put her money on this woman before her, Luisa Mina Meyer.

Luisa, having gaged Beca's reaction, watching her face carefully the entire time, nodded slowly, not defensive, just honest. "Yes. It is… a common dream. Perhaps some would even call it foolish. But still mine." She shrugged, as if to hide just how much her dream truly meant to her.

Beca huffed a quiet laugh, dry, wry, familiar. "Yeah. It's a classic. You know? It's funny. For an industry that sometimes errs a little too much on the cautious and capitalistic side of things, the bleedingly familiar heart-bleed story of a dreamer wanting to make it big is actually surprisingly rare. More of than not you just sort of…" Beca paused and gestured around herself, "end up in middle management?" Not quite a producer, since the last one quit. But not quite an intern anymore either, I guess… Her brown eyes drifted to the blonde.

Luisa's expression didn't falter. In fact, her lips tugged upward in the faintest smile. "I like your humor," she said simply.

Beca blinked. That surprised her. Most people either didn't catch her sarcasm or just ignored it. But Luisa seemed to catch it, and appreciate it, even though it was dark. Which was… unexpected. Beca sat up a little taller in her seat.

Luisa took a few steps forward, letting the door swing shut behind her. "Perhaps," she said, voice thoughtful, "working together will teach us both more than we bargained for. I believe we have a lot to learn from one another, ja?"

Ja? Beca raised an eyebrow, skeptical. But beneath it all, something buzzed. Curiosity. Tension. And something she wasn't ready to name.

"Well," she said, eyes flicking back to her turntables and laptop, "hope you're not bad with EDM. I love a good beat-drop."

Luisa's smile returned, slight, self-contained. "I'm very good with sound and machines."

Beca's heart fluttered, but she fought valiantly to hide it under a smirk. "We'll see."

ooo

The air in the warehouse was electric. Beneath exposed beams and hanging LED panels, a crowd pressed toward the stage like a tide waiting to break. Smoke curled through violet light, and the deep bass from the opening DJ's set vibrated through every ribcage in the room. This wasn't Residual Heat. This wasn't the polished studio, or the meticulously arranged vocal tracks, or Sammy's ever-shifting deadlines. This was the underground scene. This wasn't Beca Mitchell, humble music producer. This was Re-Bex, Master DJ Extraordinaire.

This! This is what I was truly meant to do! Heart pounding, head rushing, Beca gave a tipsy giggle as she donned her Daft Punk-inspired helmet. Sure, it was a little clunky and tacky, but Sammy had all but forced her into an NDA as his intern, so she technically wasn't supposed to make a name for herself outside of his label. Performing in seedy, underground pools was definitely outside of his label. Even though Beca might've argued the underground scene was a more authentic aesthetic, Sammy wouldn't have been caught dead in such a dump.

Bzzzt! Beca's helmet buzzed to life, and she grinned behind the LED screen that acted as her face. The crowd was already going wild. Through the dim lighting and the neon strobing effect, she could see the mosh pit, people jumping up and down, some of them raising beers cans and bottles. It was almost showtime! With her hood up, headphones coiled like a necklace, and a smirk tugging at her mouth, Re-Bex set up and turned on her DJ turntables. They, too, glowed with an almost cybertron aesthetic, the neon lights slowly fading from one color into the next. Her eyeliner was dark and precise, her sneakers scuffed from long nights performing and longer nights dodging attention.

Another performer still stood backstage, clad almost entirely in black leather. She toyed with the edge of her black leather glove and smirked. Her golden hair was tied up in a tight bun, and her eyes burned with the flames of victory and battle. Her mouth was set in a hard line, not from nerves, but focus. Everything about her was controlled. Measured. Commanding. She didn't stand backstage, she waited to be unleashed. She adjusted the earpiece clipped behind one ear, scanning the opposite side of the stage, and that's when her gaze landed on the masked DJ, Re-Bex.

Even though Re-Bex wore a helmet, Kommissar knew immediately that they'd locked gazes. Even though she was a newcomer, she and Re-Bex dueled and bickered like old rivals. Smirking, Kommissar stalked forward, closing in on her prey. Re-Bex, though, was nobody's fool.

"Well, well," the American JD purred. "Look who's crawling back for a rematch."

Kommissar's eyes narrowed slightly. "Feisty mouse!"

"You'd know," Re-Bex said with a smirk in her tone. "Last time we met, I recall you got… steamrolled. Remember, I'm a producer and a performer! I make music as well as I put on a show! So who's really the mouse?"

"That was before," Kommissar said, stepping closer. "I was new. Learning your terrain. Now I'm ready for more than a rematch." She crossed her arms, chin raised. "I'm ready to reorganize the entire underground! Soon, it won't be your sound they clamor for."

Re-Bex let out a cocky laugh, fingers tapping her turntable like a countdown. "That so, commissioner?" Ha! You're not even a general…

Kommissar's jaw twitched, but her lips curled just slightly upward. A worthy opponent. At last.

The lights began to dim as the emcee's voice boomed across the warehouse. "All right, freaks and frequencies! Back by popular demand, the DJ battle you've been waiting for: die KOMMISSAR vs. RE-BEX!"

The crowd went wild, and airhorns sounded off from every direction. Kommissar's icy blue eyes continued to hold Re-Bex's masked gaze.

"May the better producer/performer win," Kommissar murmured, and Re-Bex responded only with a salute, smirking behind her mask.

Producer by day, performer by night, pitch perfect no matter the time!

The emcee counted down behind them. "In five—four—three—two—!"

The beat dropped, and the night came alive.

Chapter Text

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," the werewolf hissed. The mic in his spacesuit picked him up loud and clear, and his ears twitched inside the helmet, anticipating the vampire's sarcastic answer, transmitted through space and time.

Instead, it was the human beside him that answered. "Weren't you the one who insisted we do this?"

The werewolf's golden eyes narrowed. Shut it, Conrad…

The vampire's low and languid voice slithered from the speakers next, setting the werewolf's fur on edge. "Grazie, Barone."

"Stai zitta, Contessa!" The werewolf shot back. Grrr! Just because I'm down doesn't mean I'm out! She may have beat me last time, but I was the one with the harder battle!

It pained his pride to acknowledge her as the (present) owner of Crux Castle, but his claim that he had the harder battle both consoled and condemned him. It was harder because he was the invader, attacking the vampire's keep.

But it should've been mine! he thought, biting back a whine. The vampire had no claim to the territory, nor to its history, and yet she claimed it all the same. Barone fancied himself an underdog—or underwolf—ever trying to expose the Countess' conniving crimes. But she was always one step ahead. Only for now! I just… have to think of something! Ugh. That useless idiot boy sure isn't helping!

He cast another side-eye at his human companion. Though Conrad was studious, a librarian and archivist, he wasn't as cunning as Barone.

Hmph. It's a good thing he's cute…! He'd only hired the boy as an escort to help lead him to Crux Castle, but despite all his complaints, he insisted the young man accompany him everywhere. This was just the latest in his own schemes to outwit and outstep her. In exchange for mercy, Barone agreed to aid Contessa in one of her latest plots. She acknowledged that this time, they weren't her own machinations. Her human partner—the traveling student, Beatrice—was the first to notice strange occurrences in Crux Castle, and the village only a handful of miles away, where she used to live before moving into the castle with the vampire countess.

"I'm trying to get ahead of it," Contessa had said, making a point of holding Barone in place by the tail, her heel threatening to dig into it. "Maybe you can use that sniffer of yours to see if La Biblioteca Benedetta contains any answers." It was far from an ordinary bookkeep. More than traversing pages, Contessa was traversing the records of other times and places, searching for anomalies. Of course, on principle, Barone rejected Contessa's offer, insisting that she had better kill him instead.

"Sir! Be reasonable!" Conrad had sighed. "Didn't you yourself say that La Biblioteca Benedetta seldomly shows herself like this? Don't you want to at least see THAT before you go?" His words truly seemed to catch Barone off guard, but he was more than happy to take the easy way out of the execution he'd almost signed up for.

"The current danger seems to be coming from beyond the stars," Beatrice gestured to some of the books glowing and rattling on their shelves. Most of them were still, silent—for all intents and purposes, normal books—but a select few volumes were clearly not ok. Curiosity piqued anew, Barone's ears pricked, and he was quick to volunteer to be the first to explore. It was what courageous beings of life did! Not what undead thieves like Contessa did. How fitting of her to send others to the frontline while she led and schemed from the shadows.

Contessa, though, only smirked. Heh... A werewolf in space, who would've ever thought? Dumb dog. This is a one-sided rivalry, at best. I've never cared about you. This still ISN'T about you. I'd rather send you than myself or Beatrice. The first sign of human emotion flicked across the vampire's dark face as her red eyes glanced at the human girl standing beside her. The girl was as curious as she was earnest—she would have to be, to be comfortable being courted by a vampire—but she was still mortal, unfortunately. Thoughtlessly, Contessa reached out and stroked the human's arm. Beatrice's eyes had widened, but a moment later, they drifted shut as she smiled.

Now Contessa and Beatrice sat in La Biblioteca Benedetta again, the Contessa leaning against her, occasionally stroking her hair as they kept in touch with Barone and Conrad through books and notes. In Beatrice's lap lay a dusty old tome with yellowing pages. Across time and space, Conrad hovered above the earth, typing on a data pad, responding to Beatrice's queries. On her end, they appeared as ink staining the pages below the margins in which she'd written. They transmitted images while Barone and Contessa communicated through a microphone and old telephone.

Hmm, I wonder if I can connect a magic mirror shard to one of their cameras… Contessa thought. But she knew to be careful. It was one of many reasons why she considered herself a worthier inheritor of Crux Castle. Unlike Barone, who clearly only desired power, she understood the delicate balance of La Biblioteca Benedetta. Though it was powerful, it took careful channeling to fully utilize. Anything too broad or overpowered would end in disaster, or utter silence from the library. It wasn't as easy as just holding up a mirror and hoping to see into the future. Or even trying to open up the mouth of a wormhole, which was what it took to send Barone and Conrad into space in the first place.

"Woah, wait, look! Look at that!" Barone's voice was suddenly hushed.

"We can't see you," Contessa deadpanned, but behind her flat affect, she felt a surge of curiosity, and rage that Barone got to see it first. Even though she considered him a worthwhile sacrifice, it still wasn't easy to sit behind while he got to gloat.

Conrad quickly scribbled on his data pad, and a moment later, Beatrice gasped as an ink sketch appeared in her booklet. The sketch revealed an immense void, a gaping maw in the fabric of space itself, vast, lightless, and terrifyingly still. Its edges blurred against the pages, as if the universe itself was bleeding. No light escaped its pull. It lacked a concrete shape. It was just a mass, a blob of black. And what Conrad and Barone described was something that writhed and convulsed slowly, like a pulsing heart. Around it, space shimmered with faint tendrils of warped matter spiraling inward, a silent testament to its hunger. It wasn't just darkness, it was nothingness.

Contessa finally rose from her seat. Despite her prior, inner negotiations, she glided to her bed chambers, shifting through walls and shadow to get there faster. When she returned to Beatrice's side, she held a mirror shard in her brown hands. Exhaling slowly, the vampire silently pled with the power of La Biblioteca Benedetta.

"Hey! What are you doing back there?!" Barone complained. He watched Conrad double over briefly in surprise as they both felt something tugging their guts, right where their navels were. Contessa didn't reply. Instead, she pulled some of La Biblioteca Benedetta's power back to herself, finally forcing a visual channel so that she could catch a glimpse of what Barone and Conrad were seeing. Then it was her turn to recoil with surprise. Her mirror managed to focus on the black hole. She could see energy and matter swirling around the center at impossible speeds, sending some of it hurtling back out through space.

An interstellar storm? Well that can't be good… If it was close enough for Barone and Conrad to see while floating above the Earth, then it was only a matter of time until the storm's effects would strike Earth. But knowing that Barone and Conrad had been sent to a time where such space travel was possible, the Contessa felt a small, absurd flash of hope. If it hasn't happened yet, we might still be able to stop it.

Chapter Text

The sky cracked open like a porcelain mask, spilling crimson light across a field of circus tents and crooked signs. Shilo Wallace blinked into the dizzying color, her breath fogging in the thick, unnatural air.

"Wh-where am I?" Her voice was choked, cracked, and she sat up, disoriented. The last thing she remembered was her father bidding her goodnight. She remembered the sterile smell of her bedroom, the sound of crinkling plastic as she pushed aside the curtain that surrounded her soft, puffy, cool bed. Now she was lying on the ground, dirt clinging to her black skirt and vest. "How am I going to find my way home…?"

Now, instead of metal and medicine, there was music.

Hello, hello, hello… beautiful stranger… How familiar the danger… slipping into the shadows!

Calliope tunes danced on the wind, off-key and hypnotic, accompanied by laughter that didn't feel kind. "Awww, and what's a pretty lil dolly like you doing out all by your lonesome?!" A loud, shrieky voice startled the young woman all over again.

"Woah!" Shilo hopped to her feet and jumped away as, from the shadows, melted a nightmarish and clownlike monster. The figure was feminine, about her height and weight, but the face was painted pure white, black lines intersecting at the eyes. The only bit of color was the red dot on the tip of her nose. She wore wild, black and purple-striped clothing, ripped gloves and stockings. It was a sharp, vivid contrast to the plain and simple outfit Shilo wore. She fought the urge to cross her arms over herself. "W-w-who are you?!"

The girl's hair was wild and curly, bouncing as she looked Shilo up and down. "I… am Wick! Mistress of the Woe-Maidens!" she declared, throwing her arms open wide.

"Where... am I?" Shilo asked, backing a step away. The ground wobbled under her like a funhouse floor.

Wick gave a hysterical cackle. "You're in the Devil's Carnival! Come one, come two, come all! Devil's Carnival!"

Devil? Am I in HELL?! When did I die?! Shilo's heart began to race, but before she could dwell much on it, Wick's hands suddenly shot forward, grabbing hers and pulling them close.

"Woah!" Shilo stumbled forward and flinched, her nose suddenly brushing Wick's, their lips inches apart.

"I…" Wick whispered, voice low and soft and breathy—almost seductive—am your shadow. Your subconscious. Your repressed desire. Come now, dear Shilo. Tonight is your show! Your opera! And you are the star!"

In the background, a chorus softly hissed, "Shadow takes all…"

Shilo shook her head. "No… This is a dream. It has to be!"

"Maybe," Wick giggled, swaying left and right, forcing Shilo to sway with her. "Or maybe it's what you really think about, when you're all alone, hugging your little pillow like it's gonna whisper back. You know what they say? What we do in the dark shines light on who we truly are!"

Shilo flushed. "I—I don't—"

"Come on! You're a 17-year-old girl! I know you're lonely…" Even though Wick grinned that unsettling, Cheshire cat smile, Shilo suddenly heard a voice that seemed to rise up from the very ground and surround both of them, but even though it reverberated with something ancient, something powerful, Shilo still heard Wick's familiar tone intertwined. "You're so sheltered, so stitched-up in Daddy's rules and Geneco's lies, you don't even know what you want. Or maybe you do. Maybe you're just afraid."

Shilo shivered as she recalled Wick moments ago, proclaiming herself Shilo's shadow and subconscious. "Afraid of what?" she swallowed.

Wick somehow grinned wider. "Afraid you'll die alone! That no one will ever love you! Boy or girl! You'll never have anyone to travel through life with, and believe me, I know what—and who—you dream about." Wick bit her lip and wiggled her eyebrows as visions—faces—of both men and women flashed behind her and Shilo's eyes.

Shilo's mouth opened, a protest rising in her throat, but no words came out. That's personal, private information! How does she know?! But of course, Shilo knew the answer immediately. Even though she didn't want to believe it at first—simply because it sounded so impossible—Wick was proving it true more and more each second. Wick really was some kind of alternate universe version of Shilo. How else would she have known Shilo's most intimate dreams so precisely? She called it the Devil's Carnival. Perhaps she was Shilo's personal, demonic tormentor.

"Aww," Wick cooed, mock-sympathetic. "Poor widdle Shilo Wallace… All that time alone in your little room, pretending not to think about how lonely you are." Her voice dropped to a whisper, teasing and intimate. "Wouldn't it be easier to admit you want someone? Someone like me?"

"I don't even know you," Shilo whispered, but there was a lump in her throat as Wick lowered her voice again, leaning closer, batting her eyes seductively. She didn't like where this was going… but she felt powerless to move, almost hypnotized…

"But I know you," Wick replied. Then she began to hum, just barely concealing giggles. I walked with you once upon a dream…

Shilo turned away when Wick playfully tried to hook her finger beneath Shilo's chin. "Stop it." Wick gave another hyena-like laugh, and before Shilo could argue further, Wick seized her hands with renewed vigor, spinning them both like puppets across the floor. "WOAH!" Shilo nearly fell, but Wick caught her, still cackling as she spun Shilo round and round in a wild waltz around the carnival tent. It was as if they were a living carousel, and the lights blurred red and gold. Shilo felt like a marionette, and Wick her handler.

"Loosen up!" Wick shouted over the music. "You're not dying, you're dancing!"

"I don't know how to dance—!"

"Good," Wick snapped, yanking her in again, their bodies too close. "Then stop thinking and just feel!" They spun together, skirts fluttering, breath mingling in the air between them. For a moment, the world fell away, Shilo's breath caught in her chest, not from fear but something warmer, something that flickered to life beneath her skin, like fireflies. And then—

Shilo tripped. The ground pitched. She tumbled back into the dirt. The music cut off mid-note and she shrieked, but even her cry was cut off halfway through. Then the darkness fell like a curtain.

"What we do in the dark shines light upon who we truly are, and Shadow takes all…"

ooo

She awoke with a start, panting, sweating, her leg having just jolted her awake. "Ugh…" She moaned as her heart raced, the monitor beside her bed beeping just as annoyingly and constantly as ever. Her wrist monitor chirped as well, a reminder that she was alive. No clown music. No ringmaster. No shadow-girl. Just the dim, sterile silence of her bedroom. But still, her heart raced. Her hands felt warm… And even though the dream was already fading from her mind, she still felt it fully. Would she ever see Wick again?

No, I don't want that. I don't care about that! Shilo was embarrassed. It was just a bad dream! Nothing more… Still, something in her stirred, and it was almost impossible to get back to sleep again.

Chapter Text

The Chimera hunched over their desk, arms crossed atop a tangle of notes, doodles, sketches, and sheets upon sheets of differential equations. Pencil and pens of every color of the rainbow lined the pages and sigils. Their pale face was brightened by the light of the monitor of the computer upon which they worked, although one of the computer tabs open was playing TWEWY (or more specifically, the soundtrack). Just moments before, Chimera had grumbled to themself that they needed the soothing, familiar background music to help them focus.

Lines and circles overlapped and intersected on some of the charts and graphs they had printed off.

"The Composer's prophecy is a mess squared!" they muttered. "He thinks rearranging the present will align this world to that ideal one from Itsuki's visions. As if all it takes is solving for x and subtracting out the bad variables." A pause. "But what if… he's not wrong?" Chimera could scarcely stand Alden, but as their boss, Chimera had no choice but to heed his every command. That, and Chimera had to admit…

I mean, it's not an imaginary number! It's just basic math! With the zetta astronomical scale we're talking about here, there's bound to be at least one point on the graph where interdimensional travel is an absolute value!

The gears in their mind spun. Chimera couldn't just open a timeline, not directly, but surely there was something in all of Memory Inc. that could at least help them get started. And they wracked their brains, trying to think of an anime or video game they liked where a character was known for hopping universes.

Hmmm… Star Rail? No, I guess that's more like hopping planets than timelines. The standard is way too deviated there for me to be able to just substitute x for y in this case… But the idea stuck with them long after the day was done.

ooo

The Chimera stood completely still as the lab lights blinked overhead. A dull ringing echoed in their ears, static humming through the walls. Alden hadn't given them permission to use the machine, but he had given Chimera permission to use the room.

Besides, Chimera smirked, what that yoctogram doesn't know won't hurt him. Maybe it was curiosity, maybe it was pride, but now Chimera was almost determined to figure out the prophecy before Alden, just to prove that they could do it.

The room began to shake, or maybe it was only just Chimera's perception, their vision briefly going double. Two rooms overlapped. It was the same laboratory, but the light was just a little off. The colors were just slightly too sharp, like a rendering glitch.

"Did it work…?" Chimera muttered, rubbing their eyes. "Did I successfully factor everything in…?" They barely finished the sentence before a voice sliced across the room.

"Who dares interrupt the sanctity of this sanctum? Who cracks open the fourth wall like an uneducated fanfiction writer?"

Chimera blinked, frowning. "What?" Are my ears making a syntax error? That was zetta weird…

From the shadows emerged a figure, someone who looked like they could've been Chimera's twin, except… still not quite right. Some of the coloring was wrong. If one didn't know Chimera well, they could've easily mixed them up with their doppelganger, both of them had highly eccentric appearances.

"Oh great! Another rough draft somehow managed to wander into my writing space!" The figure gestured to the laboratory.

"It looks like the amount of writing that goes on in this place is… statistically insignificant," Chimera remarked wryly.

"You've completely lost the narrative, typo!" The figure pointed an accusing finger at Chimera. "You're nothing but a syntax error."

"And just who are you, anyway?" Chimera scoffed.

"The Hydra!" The figure puffed out their chest. "A meta awesome literary analyst, author extraordinaire, and wordsmith linguist! I can diagram sentences better than any Merriam or Webster you got. If you're going to quote me, cite me. APA preferred."

Chimera snorted. "You're kidding." I think… I'm in the wrong timeline…

"I think you are the one who can't read the room, footnote."

"Oh, go divide by zero!" Chimera muttered, frowning. Inside, their mind raced. I wonder if it's because I'm not as directly involved in the prophecy. Maybe that's why I wasn't able to reach THAT timeline… Whether they wanted to admit it or not, it was obvious that this so-called "Hydra" was a version of them in another universe, but the prophecy Alden spoke of never once mentioned a "Hydra". In fact, it hadn't really centered around Memory Inc. at all. But perhaps Chimera was only able to travel easily to other versions of themself.

Dang it! Urgh…! That was a… slight miscalculation on my part. I got so zetta carried away in my theorems and theories that I completely failed to factor in these unknown variables!

For a moment, only silence filled the space between the pair. Then Hydra finally gave Chimera an acknowledging look.

"I have to admit," they said, "despite what I said earlier about you being a rough draft, I know you're not complete filler text. In fact, you'd have to be a pretty meta smart person to get in here." Chimera couldn't tell if Hydra was truly complimenting them, or just trying to preserve their own ego, but they decided to give Hydra the benefit of the doubt. After all, an acknowledgment was an acknowledgment.

It's more than that yoctogram ever did! Chimera thought bitterly of their boss. Heh, I wonder if Alden is as much of a regression from the mean in Hydra's world as he is in mine! They almost asked, but decided against it. Why talk about something as unpleasant as their boss?

"I was… experimenting," Chimera finally said carefully. "Trying to peek into another timeline. Guess I looked in the wrong place."

"Or the right one," Hydra quipped, smirking slightly, but softer than before. "Since you found the one with me."

Chimera scoffed, but their hostility had softened just a fraction as well. There was something familiar in Hydra's flamboyant intelligence. They didn't feel like just a distant parallel line, or a vague, undefined solution.

"Luckily, balancing the equation won't be too difficult." Chimera still had access to the device that triggered the shift.

"Ah, good," Hydra nodded once. "I'm not really a scientist here," they admitted. "I was just hired on to help keep the notes. But sometimes I find that stuff meta boring compared to writing stories. You, though, are more than just a vague metaphor. You're a real declarative!"

For the first time that night, Chimera cracked a smile. They nodded farewell to their doppelganger from the other timeline, but felt an immediate wave of relief the moment their vision went double, then subsided again. Intuitively they knew, this time, they would be alone. No surprise twins to pop out at them from the shadow, hurling literature and language based insults.

Thank goodness! thought Chimera, shoulders slumping in relief. I'm more than happy to carry the one!

Chapter Text

The city pulsed with energy, sunlight glinting off steel buildings and glass windows, traffic humming endlessly in the background, and the scent of food curling through the warm, summer air.

"See, Dabi? I told you! This is the life!" Hawks stretched his wings and arms, yawning dramatically as he turned his face to the sun.

The man walking quietly beside him only scoffed under his breath. "Walking through a city?" Was that not the most mundane of occurrences for a pair of urbanites?

"No, silly!" Hawks laughed. "The freedom of no responsibility! Ain't nothing better than a summer weekend all to yourself! Consider me your winged angel come to save you and guide you to the light of paradise!" he laughed, gesturing to the crystal-clear sky.

"Pfft. Careful about flying too close to the sun," Dabi smiled darkly. Birdbrain thinks he can just dance through life forever!

Hawks didn't miss a beat. "Don't worry, I'd do my best not to make it jealous of me!" After a pause, he glanced slyly over at the other man. "I'd rather spend my time on the ground anyway, if that's where you are."

"Tch. What?" Dabi deadpanned. "Still don't trust me, eh?" Hawks only shrugged and smiled serenely, and on they walked.

After a while, though, Hawks continued. "For guys like us, maybe we're just too used to action, adventure, and excitement, ya know? So what should be "exciting" for us is… things like this!" He gestured to the sprawling city before them, grinning. "Peace!"

Dabi scoffed under his breath, but for once, he couldn't think up a snarky reply. At least not before—

"Ohmanohmanohman, I'm running late…!"

Dabi and Hawks barely had time to look over their shoulders before a child sprinted through the small gap between them. Because the child was looking at their phone at the time, they brushed past the two men without even realizing.

Huh…?

What the—?!

Both Dabi and Hawks shivered. It felt as if time had slowed down, literally freezing them in place, but it was a brief chill, lifting almost as soon as it had come. Or maybe that was only how it felt to them. Dabi blinked and looked down at his hands. They were the same as he remembered them, although, now, the fingers seemed a little slimmer…

"Woah…" The voice he heard sounded different than before, more feminine. He looked up, eyes widening as they locked on a young woman with wild, blonde hair framing her round, feminine face. She shoved her hand into her pocket, and a second later, fished out a phone, immediately turning on the front-facing camera. "Woah! My wings got even bigger!"

"Hawks…?" Dabi took a step back. Oh, God, I wonder what I look like…

"You don't have to sound so happy to see me. Also, who else would it be?" Hawks teased, resting her(?) hands on her hips. "Anyway, honestly, you look good!" The winged hero shoved her phone in Dabi's face. Dabi grunted in annoyance, but after several seconds, took the phone. Then Dabi gasped, fingers caressing a leathery face. The scars were still there, but like Hawks, Dabi's face was less angular and sharp. Although the change wasn't quite as striking. Dabi had always had an elegant quality to the shape of his face and jaw, even after everything that happened…

And her new hair cascaded down her back, alternating black and white. Dabi ran her fingers through it, almost transfixed.

"Why Ms. Dabi look at you," Hawks was teasing and encouraging. "You're beautiful!"

"Tch…" Dabi scoffed and looked away, crossing her arms protectively in front of her herself. What a strange—thought not in a bad way—sensation it was, to suddenly have the body of a woman. And, at least in some aspects, the mind of a woman, too, she thought with a dry smile. For she found that though it was a novel feeling, being a woman, it didn't feel bad. On the contrary, it felt strangely familiar, hard as that was to explain.

And by the look of it, Hawks didn't seem to mind it either. "Well, since I'm already in maidenn mode, might as well relish the spotlight." She snapped a few selfies. When Dabi realized she was in some of them just by virtue of being so close to Hawks, she shied away in protest.

"Hey!"

"I'll delete them! I swear!" Hawks laughed.

"I mean, you don't have to do that!" Dabi grumbled. "Just… don't go around posting them like an idiot!"

Hawks raised her eyebrows. Really, you trust ME that much, huh? But she smiled and put away her phone after that. "Hmmm, I wonder, what would my singing voice sound like now?"

"Is this really the place for a performance?" Dabi deadpanned. They were still in the heart of a bustling city, after all.

Hawks, meanwhile, looked Dabi up and down playfully. "Are you a soprano? You look like someone who could really kill the high notes!"

"Kill, you say?" Dabi smirked, but Hawks didn't seem to hear her.

"I wonder if we should pick out new names and identities too? That would be fun!"

"What?!" Dabi scoffed. "Come on, focus! Let's just track down that little menace that turned—"

"Oh, come now, Dabi, I don't think the kid meant it," Hawks interjected.

"So?" Dabi grumbled, but she didn't say more, at least not about the child's character. "Why not put your big wings to the test and see if you can scout them from above?" she asked, and Hawks had to bite back a smile.

"Again, Dabi, that was a kid. They probably couldn't have gotten far. Why not just take the chance to enjoy a stroll through the city on such a fine afternoon? Besides, my wings are tired from my usual hero stuff—"

"No they aren't," Dabi frowned. She knew that, ordinarily, the winged hero loved nothing more than an excuse to fly and show off. But Hawks only laughed and shrugged, walking in the direction of the hurried, harried child.

It's true, I like flying, but I REALLY dislike working. Besides, like I tried to hint at before, I'd rather be wherever Dabi is…

"Hawks!" Dabi called after the other girl in exasperation, but Hawks only walked on, smiling blithely. After a moment longer, after rolling her eyes to herself, Dabi sped up to reach Hawks' side again. When Hawks heard Dabi's feet pounding after her, she chuckled inwardly.

Heh, talk about a queer quirk! I'm not sure what it makes me—gay or lesbian or something else—but whether you're a guy or a girl, Dabi, I think I love you both ways…

Chapter Text

The sky burned not with fire, but something worse. It was a roiling abyss of dark color and endless void, where reality fractured and bled. The cosmos itself was torn apart, and through the gaping wound, an eldritch being pulsed like a sickly heart. Its name was long since lost to time, filled by countless horrific monikers and titles that others adorned it with, like twisted medals. For the precious few who survived a trip to the corrupted planet's surface, if they managed to interact with the lone monstrosity that ruled it, they would know it called itself Arke, a dark and twisted titan. It was a mass of dark energy and matter that encapsulated the entire world like a tomb.

Arke fused with everything in its path, living and non, an all-consuming and all-devouring entity. The creature was nearly a concept incarnate, passion that was pure and raw and unfettered. Once a mortal so angry, her fury shook the world, awoke a sleeping Eldritch, and allowed her to fuse with it. She became a willing host, and in doing so, lost her humanity, and ascended into something far, far greater.

I… remember my old name… Through the black and purple clouds that shielded the planet from prying eyes, in the crumbling ruins of the final nation of the planet, a single humanoid danced in an empty ballroom. The figure flickered, sometimes two entities. The first was a swirling mass of black and purple. The other, meanwhile, was bright blue and white, called "Eurydice". I remember… your old name…

For years, they traveled the stars together, enduring countless battles and missions. But their love, for all its strength, had a breaking point. Storm was taken from Iris, and even when Iris found her again, Storm had been… changed. She was broken, tortured, held hostage by a band of thieves from planets across the cosmos. It was a dark alliance, and even after Storm was rescued, their influence remained. It ripped through her relationship with Iris, and Iris went mad from her own grief.

Furious, desperate for revenge, Iris took to the stars and did not return until she wielded a power strong enough to utterly crush those who once dared to take away her partner. She crushed the planet, devastated it, utterly laid waste to it, until not a single living thing was left.

But it wasn't my fault… I was eliminating a threat…! Fury rippled through Arke's shimmering form. The devastation wouldn't have been half as severe had half the galaxy not come rushing in to stop her. They should've let me! They should've stayed out of my way!

That entire planet was infested, a hotbed for criminal activity. There was no life wasted when Iris got rid of it. But still, her stubborn comrades of old refused to relent. They were just as self-righteous and convicted in their beliefs as Iris was in hers. So the fighting never ended, even after Iris was the only living thing left on that planet.

Over time, she became Arke, something more than she ever used to be, something mutated and ascended, a dark Titan. Now Eurydice danced with her, like a puppet on strings, and Arke was happy. Nothing would ever threaten them again. Even Death could not stop them now. Arke crossed all borders and boundaries, even finding a way to fuse itself with "Eurydice" to give her new life once her old body—as Storm—gave out.

The entire planet was a hive-mind of Arke, and it and "Eurydice" fed off the last of the dying planet's ruins and energy.

ooo

"The view from here sure is beautiful, isn't it, Princeton?" Jess was half-joking and half-serious as they flew through the stars of the multiverse, the Pluricosm.

"Are you all right?" Princeton's voice came gently through the microphone system in their spacesuits. His tone was calm, quiet, low, and knowing. Even though Jess was trying to be boisterous, cheerful, upbeat, he knew that their mission filled them with foreboding. It was hardly a happy task for him, either.

Once upon a time, the two of them were close friends with a woman they knew as Iris Long, but the years had changed her beyond recognition, turning her into a literal monster inside and out. It was a tragedy of a story, in his and Jess' opinion, but there was only so much the planet of Porphura was willing to take. All four star stations—Boreas, Notus, Eurus, and Zephyrus—had been sent out on the mission.

Even though Arke didn't seem to do more than inhabit the ruins of the planet it destroyed, there was enough restless chatter from surrounding planets that they all felt pressured to do something, to actively try to eliminate the Eldritch Abomination. As old friends of her, before she became Arke, Princeton and Jess were some of the first to volunteer to travel to that dying world.

Maybe they were mad enough to think they could talk her out of it, that Iris was still in there somewhere. Although Princeton hated to doubt his old mentor, that was precisely why he doubted her.

Honestly, I think she IS long gone. At least the Iris that would've been willing to change her ways. Now she's in too deep. She doesn't see anything wrong with what she's doing. So long as she's got that mindset…

Jess sighed, suddenly at a loss for words. "I… I guess I'm all right…" How else am I supposed to feel? Iris used to be my hero! Maybe that was a bit much, but Jess looked up to the other, older Space Ranger. Not anymore. She wasn't a Space Ranger anymore. Oh, Iris, WHAT are you…?

They landed in the broken cathedral of the world, one of the only semi-upright structures within the capital city, which itself was just about the only bastion of society on the planet. Though now, it was just as barren as the countless forests and boggy, swampy seas that filled the rest of the planet. Arke's body—if it could be called that—hung in the sky and across the ground all around them, overrunning everything, blotting out the stars and swallowing up every other remaining building. The tendrils of energy, rot, and matter writhed sickly.

"There…" Princeton gently patted the shoulder of Jess' spacesuit, looking ahead. From the cathedral, across the shattered ruins of a courtyard, he and Jess could see into the front of the castle, the old remnants of a ballroom. And there, Arke and a shimmer, flickering specter danced. "Eurydice", electrified, white wisps connecting her to Arke, like threads of fate binding them together even in their new, warped, mutated forms. The moment Princeton and Jess drew too near, the air changed, tense, charged…

Arke didn't speak aloud. It didn't have to. Instead, its voice filled the sky, making the ground rumble. "Why did you come?"

Jess lifted their blasters, voice trembling but face grim. "To stop you." The blinding light surged across the courtyard with a shockwave and a sonic boom. Princeton literally jumped into action, wrapping his arms around Jess' waist and quickly transporting them away as Arke struck back in swift and immediately retaliation. A vine shot up from the ground where Princeton and Jess stood just a millisecond ago. Then a millisecond later, with a crackling snarl, "Eurydice" lunged as well.

"Get them!" Arke communicated with the specter of a woman through their telepathic bond. It could feel Eurydice's bond tense and twist in response. Even all these years later, Iris and Storm were still so connected that their movements were perfectly synchronized. Eurydice trusted Arke implicitly, and allowed the Eldritch full control over her body, moving like a puppet as they worked together to drive out the invaders. Eurydice danced upon the invisible strings Arke used to control her, their minds becoming one. Their essences fused on every level.

Jess barely dodged the first blow, a whip of raw electricity slicing through stone like butter. Arke roared. Buildings shattered. Gravity bent sideways. Jess soared through the air on thrusters, spinning, dodging as Eurydice lunged again and again. Princeton ducked behind a warped column, letting his shadow rise like smoke to strike out and shield Jess.

ZZZAAP! they took a shot as Eurydice, and the entire planet trembled in response, a rageful reply from Arke. The Eldritch snarled, but its first and foremost concern was Eurydice. She stumbled back from the blow and instantly felt Arke wrap around her mind like a comforting blanket.

"Are you all right, love?" It bore some of Eurydice's pain, transferring her loss into itself, and restoring her.

"Please! Iris!" Jess cried, voice crackling through their comms.

"Save your breath!" Came the crackling response, as if Eurydice and Arke's very voices were fused. And on they fought. The only reason the battle came to an end was because Arke finally managed to outlast Jess. Their thrusters backfired once, but that single hesitation was all Arke needed. A vine shot out to grab the obnoxious little upstart.

"NO—!" Jess' cry was cut off midway, but Princeton came swooping in, carried by shadow, swift to grab the Space Ranger and wrench them free from Arke's grasp in the split second before Arke could crush and envelope them completely.

"I gotcha!" Princeton murmured as he felt his body melting into the darkness, becoming one with it, his arms still wrapped securely around Jess. Jess gave one, last, broken cry as Arke and Eurydice quickly disappeared behind them.

"Shall I pursue, my love?" Eurydice's voice continued to crackle as she addressed Arke.

After a moment, the seething, writhing Eldritch stilled, like a sea settling after a storm. "No. Not tonight. If they return, then yes. We shall show them no mercy. But for now, well, they are gone. And I would much rather get back to enjoying my time with you." Arke's figure rippled, and soon, it looked almost human again. It was just as incomplete as "Eurydice". The ghostly woman took the hand Arke offered, thoughts of war already dying in the back of her mind. She was completely lost to Arke, who danced with her like a puppet.

Jess and Princeton didn't look back until they were safely beyond the planet's dark, and murky atmosphere. With a telescope, though, Princeton was able to pierce the veil and watch the writhing, bubbling mass of Arke's body. Tendrils emerged from it, dancing with the humanoid figure he knew as Storm's ghost, "Eurydice".

I wonder… He scanned the planet one last time and detected only a singular life form. Maybe Eurydice isn't real… Maybe she's just a hallucination Arke conjured up to keep it company… He swallowed, a chill growing deep within his bones. There was nothing more he could do for his old friend and mentor then. Instead, he sighed and met Jess' frustrated, equally helpless and devastated gaze.

"It's like a Greek tragedy," they murmured. Yeah, The Tragedy of Arke and Eurydice. The woman who never made it back to the land of the living, and the goddess who became a titan, eternally imprisoned…

Chapter Text

"This is getting out of hand…" Alex sighed. "Now there's two of them!"

"Yeah, well, I'm still the best one," Supergirl smirked, flexing.

"And which one are you?" Alex deadpanned, raising an eyebrow.

"Alex!" Supergirl's smirk became exasperated. You literally WATCHED the other Supergirl come out—ha ha—of the portal just now!

"Hiya!" The other Supergirl—SG-83—waved. Where she was from, her Supergirl identity was the cover for her much more powerful Kara Danvers identity, who took over CatCo after Cat retired, leading the company in a new direction of investigative journalism that often made her a target and enemy of the criminal underground, human and alien alike. But as far as the public knew, Ms. Kara Danvers seldom left CatCo. "Supergirl" was her emissary, of sorts.

"Woah…!" While Alex was exasperated, and Supergirl smug, Lena Luthor was awestruck. She looked Supergirl-83 up and down appreciatively. She was Supergirl-38's exact copy, except her bangs arched over her right eye rather than her left.

"Lena!" Supergirl-38 sighed, crossing her arms and pouting.

"S-sorry!" Lena flinched embarrassedly. "I- I just think it's impressive the portal worked as smoothly as it did."

Suuuuure… For the first time that day, Alex cracked a smile, smirking. Being older sister to a clueless bisexual alien and her useless lesbian girlfriend could be… something else, to put it mildly. But every once in a while, even Alex got the chance to laugh at someone else's expense.

But there was no cause for worry, for it seemed that SuperCorp was destined to get together in every universe. "See? I already got one!" Supergirl-83 was half-joking and half-serious as she shoved her arm back into the portal and fished around for a moment. Then she tugged her arm back out, and a copy of Lena stumbled after her.

"N'awwww!" Supergirl-38 squealed. "Lena! You're just as smol 'n cute in that universe!" While both Lenas' eyes widened—one going red while the other looked like she was choking—Alex gave a snort-laugh, torn between amusement and secondhand embarrassment.

"Isn't she?!" Supergirl-83 agreed, throwing a proud arm around Lena-83's waist and grinning from ear to ear.

"Hang on, you didn't build this machine just to go collecting SuperCorps, did you?" Alex interrupted, frowning at Lena and crossing her arms. She was only there because some of the tech Lena used in the portal was from the DEO, so Alex was acting as something of an overseer. I'm not going to be the one to take the fall if anything funny happens!

"W-well, technically, no," Lena-38 smiled awkwardly. Technically yes… But of course, she couldn't just say that. "Uhh, she—Supergirl—and I were talking about all the evil variants of herself that she's battled. We wondered if there was a way we could monitor any potential other evil Supergirls that may threaten the multiverse. It would be nice not to be caught off guard by them anymore." That much was not a lie.

Alex narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but before she could say more, the portal began to glow and swirl again.

"Oooh, I think someone else is coming through!" One of the Supergirls said excitedly.

"You don't say?" Alex deadpanned.

"Well hopefully it's another Supergirl and Lena, not another Alex," the other Supergirl teased. Alex rolled her eyes, but said nothing. When the light faded, sure enough, standing before the ever-growing group of Supercorp was… another Supercorp.

"Yo." The newest Supergirl wore sunglasses and a smirk. The "S" on her chest was rainbow rather than red and yellow or blue. And most strikingly of all, she was already carrying her Lena Luthor in her arms, bridal style. "What's up?"

"Woah, what universe are you from?" the other two Supergirls looked the third one up and down, dumbfounded.

"69, nice!" The third Supergirl replied, pulling her Lena closer to her chest. Lena-69 looked utterly lovestruck, her eyes practically hearts.

"I'm going to vomit…"

"Well, watch the cape, butthead," Supergirl-69 teased Alex-38.

"Hey!" While Alex protested indignantly, the other two Supergirls couldn't help but snicker. Impatient, Alex turned to Lena-38. "Shouldn't we turn this thing off? This wasn't supposed to be some kind of Super-signal!" Please, let's NOT turn Earth-38 into a giant Super Center!

"All right, all right," Lena-38 held up her hands. "Now that we have proof it works, I just need to refine our control over which universe we reach." She walked toward the control panel just off to the side of the portal.

"Wait a sec, what if we want to keep using it for a little while longer?" Supergirl-69 reached out to stop Lena-38. Supergirl-38 said nothing, but narrowed her eyes. All of the Kryptonian copies could hear the humans' heartbeats suddenly speed up. "I mean, dimension-hopping is actually pretty common where I'm from. We already managed to salvage enough Kryptonian knowledge that on my Earth, we built the device you're trying to build, like… a few years ago, now. I'm actually on a quest, to collect a SuperCorp harem across the multiverse!"

"What?" Alex's face and tone went flat from shock.

"Hey, I was—! I mean, nothing!" Supergirl-38 went from scowling enviously at Supergirl-69 to noticing the way Lena-38's eyes widened.

Wait! Don't tell them that! Alex is still right here! Lena wanted peace with the DEO, not the opposite.

"Or you could visit Earth-69!" Lena-69 offered, arms wrapped around Supergirl-69's shoulders. "It's a paradise over there! I built Supergirl so many statues and everyone loves her!"

"What, did you make her the next Rao, or something?" Supergirl-83 muttered. Lena-69 didn't hear her, but Supergirl-69 did.

"Well, like I said before, I'm a bit of a collector," Supergirl-69 winked. "#StealYoGirl! So hang on one sec—" She began to pull Lena-38 away from the portal, but Supergirl-38 finally intervened.

"No touchy, touchy," she frowned as she zoomed past Supergirl-69, gently taking Lena-38 by the arm and practically teleporting them across the room. At least, that was how it appeared to Alex and the other Lenas.

I swear to God, Rao, whoever—! Alex thought—that if this ends up in some Battle Royale Hunger Games, I'm rage-quitting everything!

Somewhere, a monkey's paw curled, and Alex's wish was granted as the portal began to bubble again like a sideways cauldron. "Oh, great, now wh—?" Once again, blinding light filled the laboratory, but this time, when it died, there were two new Supercorp pairs.

"This is getting out of hand…" Alex sighed. A second later, a deadly laser of red light buzzed through the air directly over her head, striking the opposite wall of the laboratory. Another second later, there was a heavy crashing, crunching sound as a nigh-indestructible body made contact with another laboratory wall.

"Oooh, who's joining the party this time?" Supergirl-69 finally let go of Lena-69, gesturing for her to stand behind the Kryptonian as she cracked her knuckles and grinned. "Let's dance!" she said as Supergirls 38 and 83 flanked her on either side, standing in front of their Lenas as well.

"Wait! Stop them!" One of the Lenas shouted, and all the Supergirls followed the sound of her voice, then turned in the direction she was facing. The Supergirl that was violently flung into one of the laboratory walls clawed her way back to her feet, then into the air.

"Oh, great, another evil me!" Supergirl-38 sighed. I mean look at her! Angry red eyes, black and red suit, seriously!

Welcome to my world, sis, Alex thought grimly beside her, but already, she was drawing some of her weapons and radioing for backup.

Supergirl-83, meanwhile, turned to the Lena that tried to warn them. To the amazement of all, that Lena was soaring through the air, propelled by nothing, not a Lexosuit or jetpack in sight. She landed beside Supergirls 38, 83, and 69. A moment later, a young blonde woman came stumbling up to them, out of breath, busily pushing her bangs out of her eyes.

"Hi guys! Kiera Danvers, here! Reporting for duty!"

Kiera…? Supergirl-38 raised an eyebrow.

"So, who are you guys?" Supergirl-69 asked at the same time, looking back and forth between "Kiera" and her Lena.

"I am Elena Luth-Orr," the newest "Lena" replied. "And that one is Supergirl-4. Her Lena—" before Elena could say more, another beam of light shot from the portal. It wasn't the heat vision of a Kryptonian, but an energy blast from a plasma rifle.

What all the other Lenas saw was something out of their worst nightmare, a version of them that had given in to the monster within. Whether the reasons were justified or not, whether there was a tragic backstory preceding it or not, it only took one look to see Lena-4's sinister and haughty smirk to know that she felt no remorse firing into the laboratory. Supergirl-4 flew towards her before any of the others could react. Only Elena, who knew what they were up against, even attempted to attack, but Supergirl-4 was just a bit too fast.

"Oh great, so now we've got an Evil AU?!" Alex sighed. "This is why I told you to shut off the portal!" she scowled at Supergirl-69.

"Ooops," Supergirl-69 shrugged. "But don't worry! I've tamed a Luthor once! I can do it again!" Without another word, she took off after Supergirl-4 and Lena-4 while Lena-69 blushed behind her.

Supergirls 83 and 38 locked eyes. Well, now what?

We help save the day, I suppose!

The Supergirls took off after their rogue counterparts while Alex united some of the Lenas with the arriving DEO backup. Among their ranks were the two travelers. They, too, locked eyes, one of them looking apologetic for the chaos their request caused. The other, though, only shook her head and gestured toward the portal. It was still open. But a moment later, the two travelers had flung themselves inside, one of them deactivating the switch as they passed through the spiraling threshold and into the multiverse.

Chapter Text

The Paw Pals pet store smelled like wood shavings, dog kibble, and (more than) just a hint of hamster. Fluorescent lights buzzed over rows of tanks, cages, and pastel toy displays. A parrot near the register muttered nonsense under its breath, while somewhere in the back, a pack of puppies yipped and squealed. The fish made the wall glitter with movement, and crickets chirped in glass display cases nearby. It was a place of chaos and calm, where fur met scales, and humans came in searching for new friends.

"N'awww, hewwo! What a cute lil puppy you are!" In the back, kneeling in the sea of fur, a girl was snuggling one of the tiny golden retrievers against her face. Curious, it licked her nose, whining the entire time. "Ohmygosh, I'm gonna tear up!" the girl laughed, pulling her face away from the puppy, but still holding it close. "Careful, lil fella, you probably shouldn't ingest too much of my makeup," she laughed quietly.

The wheels of a shopping cart creaked in the next aisle over as a blonde girl from the same school skimmed the shelves boredly. WHY are there so many options for dog food?! They're just little kibble bits, and yet there's like five different brands on this one shelf alone!

Were it not for a friend of hers, whom she owed a favor, she wouldn't have ever come to a place like this. Pets simply weren't her thing, far too high-maintenance. She bit her lip as she forced herself to read each label.

Which kind should I get? Rather than simply texting her friend to ask, she tried to figure it out on her own, knowing that her friend would simply tell her to buy whatever was most convenient for her.

"You're a lifesaver! I wasn't going to have time to get to the store before it closes because I work late tonight, so just buy the first bag you see! It'll be fine!" But that didn't really answer the question of what brand was best, healthiest, tastiest.

I don't know what animals like! The blonde thought, nose crinkling. She rounded the corner of the aisle and caught sight of the other girl slowly being buried beneath a sea of puppies. What a wonderful way to die. For a second time, though, the blonde girl's nose crinkled reflexively. Jeez! She literally looks like a corpse! Ugh. Seriously, I don't get it. Why do some people feel the need to flaunt it out in full force like it's Halloween every day? Sure, a bit of makeup I can totally get, but this…?

The other girl had short dark hair that covered one of her bright blue eyes. Her face was almost pure white, makeup, save for some dark eyeliner. The rest of her outfit was one would expect of someone like that, with dark boots and dark, ripped pants, and a dark leather jacket.

Sheesh! The blonde tossed her shining locks haughtily. Carrie, I think her name is? Carmen? Cara? It almost embarrassed Lizzy to know that, but they were classmates, so she'd come to at least learn the weird girl's name, even if against her will.

As if sensing that she was being watched, said goth girl suddenly looked over her shoulder. "Oh, hiya!" Lizzy saw flashes of silver on the other girl's fingers and face, and even her tongue! This time, Lizzy managed not to crinkle her nose, but her tone still dripped with disdain.

"Ah, hello…" Dang it, why did you have to talk to me? Never mind, I should've turned around the moment—

"I didn't know you had dogs!" the goth girl continued, blue eye brightening as she glanced at Lizzy's shopping cart. It was still empty, but she was standing in the aisle full of dog food. It didn't take a straight-A student to be able to guess why she was there.

"I'm helping a friend!" Lizzy cut in quickly, gripping the handle of the cart tighter, her cheeks suddenly warm.

"Awww, that's nice of you!" the goth girl's eye drifted shut as she smiled. See? I knew you had a heart in you somewhere! As Lizzy had noted before, the two had been classmates for quite a while by that point. Surprising many of their peers, Lizzy was the icy one, and Carmen was the bubbly one. Perhaps it was part of what unsettled Lizzy so much.

Seriously, it's like she's… overcompensating, or something! She dresses like THIS but acts uber friendly? Something about it was fake, of that, Lizzy was certain. Carmen, meanwhile, returned her attention to the puppies.

"Well, even if you don't have a dog, you should consider it," she said, dark nails scritching the head of the nearest pupper.

"I'm… fine. Thanks."

Are you sure? Carmen's peaceful expression remained, but inside, she couldn't help but smirk at her uptight classmate. C'mon. Enough pretending, enough hiding. I know you're not as tough or "queen" as you act, ok? And that's fine too, ya know? You don't always have to be at the top of the heap. Sometimes it was a lot more fun and freeing to lie down in the dark. That was the true reason for Carmen's love of the oft dark and misunderstood. They get how rough it can be out there, so for the most part, we just want to live in peace and let others do the same.

Lizzy was obviously a major Type A, ever on the fast track. And I mean, good for her, but no thanks! A tiny smirk finally emerged on Carmen's face, but there was pity in her gaze as well. Lizzy may have been far more ice than sugar, but maybe something in Carmen almost saw that as a challenge. Heh. I can fix her! … No, not really. I know that. But I'm sure I could still at least HELP her…

Without thinking, she stood up and walked over to the prissy blonde, holding out the puppy.

"Wait, what—?" Reflexively, Lizzy pulled away, but Carmen was just as relentless as she was gentle.

"He won't bite," she teased, finally pressing the puppy into the other girl's hands.

"I—" She tried one last time to protest, but fell silent when the puppy's wide, gleaming eyes met her emerald ones. Aww… Instinctively, albeit a little awkwardly, she patted the puppy's head with one hand, trying to support his tiny body with her other.

Don't worry, I can spot for ya! Carmen smiled to herself again, stepping away respectfully, but still standing close by. Awww, two lil golden cuties, Carmen couldn't help but think. Lizzy, meanwhile, missed her fond expression, distracted by the puppy.

Her brows furrowed, not in anger, but confusion and concern. How am I supposed to HOLD this thing?! It wouldn't stop wriggling! Especially the tail end! But Lizzy, as always, prided herself as someone who could figure out how to do anything. Being a straight-A honor student was easy for her, so there was no way holding a dog would be the thing that defeated her!

And that was exactly the side of Lizzy that Carmen saw so much potential in. She just… needs to be more confident in herself. Then she'll learn she can chill out a little more. If you really didn't care, Lizzy, you wouldn't be so worried about holding the dog properly.

The puppy suddenly leapt up so that it was resting its lil paws on Lizzy's shoulders, licking her chin as she tried fruitlessly to turn her head away. Her green eyes locked with Carmen's blue ones, anger and pleading in her expression.

"All right, all right, I'm coming," the goth girl chuckled and shook her head, taking the puppy back from Lizzy, who didn't even try to hide her sigh of relief. But it didn't matter, because Carmen knew that Lizzy wasn't as tough as she acted.

Heh, Paw Pals does it again. It was a place of chaos and calm, where fur met scales, and humans—the goth and the prep—came in searching for new friends.

Chapter Text

AN 1, Boggle: This was written by my friend. View on AO3 and Wattpad for accompanying images.

The towering spires of the Emerald City shimmered beneath a false light. From high above the streets, the opulence looked pure, hopeful, green. But inside the throne room of the Wizard, the hopes of two Hope's Peak Academy exchange students had been betrayed. The Emerald City was just as much of a flea market of apartheid and repression as Shiz University turned out to be. Elphaba was not an evil witch any more than Glinda was the people's hero. The Wizard's "great magic" was a falsehood. Everything the people of Oz had held as fact was a fabrication perpetrated by the Wizard's corrupt machine.

Everything was a lie.

But Hope's Peak Academy's Ultimates knew the truth. Faced with such despair, they chose to fight.

Akane Taira, the Ultimate Maid, stared down the self-proclaimed "Sentimental Man" and his scheming new press secretary. Her breath was steady. Her fists clenched, squeezing the hand of her girlfriend, Ayame Hatano, the Ultimate Sprinter.

"You want to know what really happened? Fine. Let me spell it out for you."

The circular hall darkened. Panels lit around her, each a sequence in the comic-like tapestry that revealed the truth.

Closing Argument — You're the Culprit!

Akane's voice rang out. "It started with the lie—the biggest lie of them all. The Wizard was never a man of miracles. Just a man. A fraud who landed in this world and used smoke and shadow to make people believe he was divine."

"He promised protection for animals, but behind that curtain? He sanctioned silencing them. Stripping them of their voices and their rights. Turning Oz against its own. Scapegoating the "Other" in the name of distracting the people with a fake common enemy, and rallying them in adoration of himself."

Her voice cracked, but she didn't stop. "He made us believe he was our savior and Elphaba was our enemy. He blamed her for turning the animals into a threat, when in reality they've been driven mad from his own experiments. He cited the monkey guards growing wings as proof of her wickedness. But that's not what really happened. Morrible and the Wizard tricked her into casting that spell. And the reason we know this is because… the Grimmerie Spellbook had already been opened to the page of the levitation spell BEFORE Elphaba ever touched it! They probably thought no one would ever notice the creases in the book's spine…but WE did."

She turned sharply. "And now, we're done playing your game. The jig is up. Your attempts to use Glinda as a propaganda tool…your hiring of faculty like Nikidik…your promotion of cages…your continuation of social norms pressuring young people to conform to popularity…all of this…was an asinine smear campaign from a lying humbug!"

She jabbed a finger at them. "ISN'T THAT RIGHT, MORRIBLE?"

Glass shattered around Akane. And if Morrible had been holding a glass, she'd have shattered it from pure rage.

COMPLETE!

"You…you are wrong," the Wizard whimpered, looking defeated. "Headmaster Makoto Naegi…of all the Hope's Peak students, why did he send you two…this should not have happened, I never meant—"

"ENOUGH," barked Morrible. "You both have clearly made up your mind and cannot be pacified. If that is the fairy tale you wish to believe, then you know that we cannot let you walk out of here scot-free."

Ayame Hatano, the Ultimate Sprinter, didn't even need to wait for her to take her first step towards them. She grabbed Akane's wrist and bolted for the exit.

Through polished halls, past twisting emerald staircases, Akane and Ayame fled upward. The alarms echoed like the sound of trial bells. The screeches of the monkeys frightened them. Ayame's hand was firm in Akane's, pulling her faster, ever faster than Akane thought she was capable of.

"The roof," Ayame said. "We can't outrun them, but we might be able to outfly them."

The sky opened above them as they burst onto the tower's ledge. Wind howled through Akane's ponytail, and Ayame blinked into the blazing lights of a helicopter descending through the cloud cover.

Inside, Haruhiko Kobashikawa, the Ultimate Pilot, grinned from the pilot seat. Beside him, Satsuki Iranami, the Ultimate Clown, stood at the door, safety harnesses in hand. "Catch, Akane-chan!" Satsuki hollered, tossing the gear.

Akane caught the harness with shaking hands. Her eyes widened. "No…we don't have time for this! These will take too long to attach!"

As her fingers fumbled with the buckles, human guards were climbing the tower staircases, while flying monkey guards were whizzing into the air, preparing to swoop down on them.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

A series of thunderous gunshots rang out. The humans were sent flying backwards, while the monkeys crashed into other buildings. Ayame and Akane looked towards the helicopter. It was Kiyoka Maki, the Ultimate Sniper! "Don't worry!" She shouted to be heard over all commotion. "They're just rubber bullets! They're not lethal!"

"Even so, Kiyoka-chan can't hold them back for very long," Ayame realized. She dropped her harness and stepped in front of Akane, helping her girlfriend fasten her own. "There's enough time for one of us. Let's get you secure."

"But what about you?!"

Ayame looked up at Akane with clear eyes. Her voice was low, sure. "Do you trust me?"

Akane's breath hitched. The wind, the sirens, the betrayal—it all faded at the sight of Ayame's face. The face Akane trusted more than anyone else's. The face Akane would kiss forever, and follow forever, to the ends of the earth.

"Always."

She fastened the last straps. Ayame grabbed her hand. "Run with me. Jump off with me."

A look of understanding crossed Akane's face. She nodded.

And they took off.

The world became sky.

Akane screamed as the wind pulled at her dress, the harness biting into her ribs. She knew she would have to let go of Ayame, or her girlfriend might die. And so she began to fall while Ayame's momentum and strength propelled her forward.

Ayame didn't have a harness. But she was the Ultimate Sprinter. Her foot hit the edge of the helicopter door, and she lunged—arms out, fingertips brushing the cabin. Satsuki screamed, grabbing her arm. Akane yelped as she felt her cord jerk. It was all that suspended her over a thousand feet in the air. She felt her life flashing before her eyes as she dangled.

"We've got you!" Ayame cried.

"I know," Akane gasped.

With the help of Satsuki and Kiyoka, Ayame pulled her up. The helicopter swung away from the tower as the flying monkeys howled and the city shrank. Fortunately, they were not willing to cause a sabotage and have a massive crash in the middle of the Emerald City. "If Akane-chan ever considers a career change," Satsuki joked, "Satsuki would welcome a flying trapeze assistant!"

Inside the helicopter, the hum of the blades gave way to silence. Akane and Ayame clung to each other. Their clothes soaked from the thunderstorm. Faces streaked with sweat and tears. They didn't speak. They didn't need to.

What they had wasn't defined by others' expectations. Not Oz's laws. Not Shiz University's rules. Not even a world that branded their defiance as wicked.

Akane rested her forehead against Ayame's.

"You stuck with me through all of this. You gave up a promising future, a prestigious education, and tremendous political and social clout…for me."

Ayame's lips quirked upward. "You make a good anchor."

They laughed, breathless, and then kissed. The moment held them like gravity couldn't.

In each other, they found more than resistance.

They found revolution.

AN 2, HellisJustAplace: My friends and I are currently recording a playthrough of Danganronpa Another Despair Academy, which you can find on the channel named "Just Noah Here". Whether you ship Akane/Ayame and/or Elphaba/Glinda, you and I both know these couples deserved better, and so this story is for you! Images made with ChatGPT.

Chapter Text

Sunlight shone through tall, arched windows. Moats of dust swirled in the light. Grinning from ear to ear, a young servant girl with short, blonde, bobbed hair raced along the red-carpet floors, slippers gliding, scarcely touching the ground. She bit her lip, but laughter still escaped through her teeth. She paused at every corner, carefully peeking around into the next hallway before proceeding. The long, dark cape of her cloak billowed as she ran. In her hands, she clutched a bouquet of flowers. Even better, they were stolen from the Queen's private, personal gardens!

Such an act was madness, poking the sleeping bear, practically begging to spend a night—or easily more, knowing her foul temper—in the castle dungeons. And Montiscor, as its name would suggest, was a hearty place. The weak would not fare well within the stony stomach of the mountain-kingdom. But Catherine, the cheeky little devil, was unafraid.

It's a good thing I'm strong! And I'm just as clever as I am strong, and just as brave as I am clever! She was an unusually confident, precocious child. In her dreams, she was the queen. Though she was born of no royal blood of her own, if anyone asked her, she would've considered herself more than qualified to learn.

Or, well… Her breathless and excited smile became mischievous. I'd gladly been the future queen's consort! A few hallways later, she reached the princess' bedchambers. Without hesitation, she knocked on the old, heavy, wooden door, using a specific pattern that let the princess know immediately who was knocking on her door.

"Come in!" came the soft, high, sweet voice, and for just a second, Catherine's expression softened. But a moment later, the childishly playful smile returned as she shoved the door open, the hinges creaking while the wood at the bottom of the door grazed the stone floor. "Catherine!" The princess turned away from her vanity, face lighting up.

What a relief! I'm glad it wasn't either of the butlers… She chewed her lip guiltily. Oh, no, I shouldn't think that. Howard and Stewart are lovely dears! It's only thanks to them that I am able to get done half of the things I need to on any given day! For just a moment, worry creased her brow. The adage was painfully cliché, but it held a seed of truth, explaining why it endured. Heavy hung the head that wore the crown. It went beyond personal insecurity, though. Something ever nagged at the back of the princess' mind. A voice that told her she wasn't supposed to be the princess, but it wasn't just the voice of self-doubt…

Clara would never take for granted the opportunities the circumstances of her birth provided, but the duties felt equally numerous.

Running a castle is tough work! And I'm not even doing it alone yet! Not that she would ever be alone, but she was still just the princess, with plenty of handlers and servants at her every beck and call. Even if that wouldn't change whenever she finally became queen, she would find herself facing even greater responsibility than now. The mere thought made her want to crawl back into bed and never leave the warm comfort and safety of the sheets ever again. But that cheeky and devilish voice and smile in the doorway…

"Milady!" Catherine gave a melodramatic bow, one hand presenting the bouquet of stolen flowers while the other flourished her cape behind her. Clara couldn't help but laugh, though she had the grace and mind to cover her mouth as she did so. She works too hard, and worries too much! Yeah, I know she's got a lot she needs to get right, but she's the future queen! Jeez! Shouldn't she be able to do what she wants every now and then? Perhaps it was projection on Catherine's part. If she truly dreamt of being the future queen's consort, of course she would want both of them to get to enjoy their royal power, not end up as slaves to royal duty.

Perhaps it was also part of living under the queen's iron fist. Too many times had the inner court—servant and royal alike—seen her fiery temper, and how much she got away with, and how little she ever apologized for anything. If she could do that, why did Clara hold herself to some invisible standard of being so much better?

I mean yeah sure, it's good she's not EXACTLY like her mom, but jeez, she's way too hard on herself! Perhaps it was the emotional distance a servant could hold from the crown, but Catherine thought it was all rather silly. All Clara had to do was wait until she was the right age. For now, she was just killing time. Maybe it was a good thing that Catherine wasn't the one in line for the throne.

"Some color, to brighten up the room!" she continued, still holding out the bouquet and bowing as she approached the princess. Clara was still unable to completely mask a smirk, but she took the flowers graciously and gratefully. As proud citizens of Montiscor, they understood that beauty lay even in the dull and dim colors of the mountain, gray and blue hues that tapered into black and white, but sometimes a splash of something brighter was a refreshing change of pace.

"Where did you get them, anyway?" asked the princess conversationally as she inhaled their sweet scent. When Catherine didn't answer, Clara's eyes darted up to read her face, and instantly, her expression became tired. "No. You didn't. Did you…?" Catherine still didn't respond, but she raised her chin, grinning from ear to ear. Clara sighed and shook her head. "Catherine!"

"You won't report me, milady, will you?" Catherine answered back, smile unreadable. I would forgive her if she did. Poor thing has always been more of a goody-two-shoes! Besides, I've caused trouble before, I can handle what comes after!

"No," Clara was quick to answer, even shaking her head at the mere thought, but a second later, she looked conflicted again.

Catherine's face softened once more. "I'm sorry, Clara." She knew the princess preferred her name when it was optional to discard her title. "I just wanted to do something to cheer you up. I know how hard your mom's been pushing you." That's why I thought stealing from her would be an even more impactful gesture. Don't lose sight of the future, Clara! Someday you'll be able to step out of her shadow! Little girls, big crowns!

"And so you thought stealing from her would help?" Clara asked at the same time, but there was a note of amusement in her tone as she quirked an eyebrow. Rather than waiting for an answer, she shook her head and sighed as she set the flowers down. "Thank you, Catherine. I appreciate you thinking of me, but there are other ways to make me happy." Ways that don't involve you risking yourself.

"Oh?" Catherine raised her eyebrows suggestively, and a second later, Clara's pale cheeks turned red. It was one of the many things she didn't like about herself. She already found it difficult to conceal her emotions, let alone with such a pale complexion betraying her. But although she might've felt mortified, her most loyal and faithful servant only smiled.

Well would you look at that? She was right! I DID make her smile! Then she leaned forward and quickly kissed the other girl on the cheek, and it was all Clara could do not to squeal as her face became even redder still. How was that for color to brighten up the room?

Chapter Text

"Supergirl! Supergirl! This way, Supergirl!"

"Supergirl, over here! Look over here!"

"Just how did you do it, Supergirl?"

"You saved the day again! Not that any of us are surprised, of course!" A hearty bout of laughter echoed around the circle of eager CatCo reporters, all of them shoving large microphones and dazzling cameras in the Kryptonian's perfect, beautiful, chiseled face. She gave them a hearty laugh in return, tossing her golden locks, her smile just as dazzling as the camera flashes.

"All in a day's work!" she declared, hands on her hips, chest puffed out. The lights gleamed against the red and gold "S" emblazoned on the front. "And of course, I couldn't have done it without the world's—no, universe's!—best partner, in business, and life, and crime!" Supergirl winked as she gestured to the woman standing beside her.

"W-well, as I have always said, it is an honor to work with you, a-and help clean up the family name…" Lena Luthor cleared her throat, valiantly fighting off and awkward smile as she raised her chin and posed for the cameras as well. Oh, come on, Lena! You've worked too hard for too long to stumble at a little… post-conflict press conference! It's not like you don't have experience in front of the cameras! "Even more than that, Supergirl and I have proven to ourselves and each other time and again just how well we work together." It wasn't just their combination of physical and mental prowess, it was their shared dreams and goals of helping create a better world. Lena held out a hand, smiling gently.

"Well said!" Supergirl took her hand gladly, shaking it. The crowd went wild, the clicking and flashing doubling. What was a better photo op or headliner than a Super and Luthor working together?! And they worked the press well, sharing secret smiles and knowing looks as the reporters ate them up. But it wasn't purely propaganda for Lena. Supergirl genuinely wanted the other woman's contributions to be properly acknowledged, and Lena felt her heart melt in her chest at the Kryptonian's sincerity.

Could she be any more perfect? Lena's adoring thoughts were mixed with envy.

"And of course! We also couldn't have done it without the clever intervention and ingenuity of Ms. Kara Danvers!" Supergirl continued, pointing to one of the reports near the front of the circle.

"What?!" The blonde reared back, fiddling with her glasses as they slid down her nose because of how fast she pulled away.

"Of course you helped!" Lena spoke without thinking, spoke before Supergirl could. Supergirl bit her lip, grinning wickedly as Lena waved Kara on encouragingly, holding out a hand to her.

"I- I- I feel like this is a conflict of interest!" Kara stuttered, fiddling anxiously with her glasses again. Supergirl had chosen CatCo solely because she knew Kara would give her a "BFF discount".

"Awww, c'mon, don't be modest!" Supergirl teased, easily grabbing Kara's hand and tugging her over.

"WOAH!" Kara didn't even have time to blink before she was suddenly squished into Supergirl's side, her face snuggled against the Kryptonian's very muscled chest… Behind her, the pencil and notepad she previously held spun in the air before hitting the ground a second later.

"So there we were," Supergirl began, quickly drowning Kara out as she began the epic tale. "Lena was rerouting LuthorCorp satellites with one hand and holding off a room full of rogue AIs with the other, and all while in heels, might I add—"

"Wait a minute, that's not how it happened!" Kara interrupted. "Lena was just powering on L-Corp's defensive systems, and the "rogue AIs" were just the attacker's attempts at a swiftly-replicating virus—" That was not to say the cyberattack was nothing, but Supergirl was making it sound like Lena had battled 9000 HAL-9000s!

"Hang on a sec, I'm just getting to the good part!" Supergirl held up a hand. "Because that's when I burst in through the window!"

And caused yet another few thousand in property damage, Kara sighed to herself, but she had the mind to keep her mouth shut this time.

"While Lena continued to power everything back on and get all of her weapons into place, I was there to prevent any of the hijacked L-Corp machinery from getting to her. I even stopped a drone by taking an explosion to the face!" Supergirl continued, bragging, pointing to her otherwise unblemished, untouched complexion. "When the virus detected that Lena was trying to debug it, it activated a self-destruct protocol and triggered a real-life bomb, but we were able to stop it in time to prevent the attacker from getting to any other L-Corp building's servers."

While Supergirl patted Lena on the shoulder as if presenting her to the cameras, Lena ducked her head with a shy smile. Oh, to be praised by Supergirl! Let alone so overtly! Let alone in front of everyone! Had the Luthor not been in front of the cameras, she would've pinched herself to check if she was dreaming. Suddenly overwhelmed by the attention, she was quick to deflect it to the other hero of that vicious attack.

"Kara was so brave during that time too!" the Luthor said, hazel eyes gleaming with gratitude and affection as they turned from the Kryptonian to her other human companion.

"Huh!?" Kara jolted back again, and Supergirl snickered to herself as she heard the human's heartbeat skyrocket.

"She came rushing in with a fire extinguisher, holding back the flames created during the battle to buy me even more time with the computer systems, and to prevent them from overheating during such a critical time." For just a moment, Lena's expression became rueful as she lowered her voice so that only Kara (and Supergirl with her super-hearing) could hear. "Really, you shouldn't have put yourself in danger like that for me…" What would the Luthor do if one of the women she loved most in the world died, especially if it was because of her?

"Couldn't Supergirl have used her freeze-breath anyway?" one of the reporters asked, and it took everything in Kara not to shoot them a death-glare. But Supergirl was quick to answer, shrugging.

"Remember, I was tackling the drones and other hijacked tech while Kara was able to be there when the computer tried blowing its top. She held the line until I was able to get there." Then Supergirl smirked inwardly again as she heard Kara's heartrate spike a second time. Hey, I meant what I said! I may love to mess with ya, but you seriously saved our butts back there. "You and Lena both were invaluable in saving L-Corp."

Lena blushed modestly, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "You're giving me too much credit," she murmured.

Kara snorted. "No she's not. If not for you, even if we still found the hackers and attackers, all of L-Corp's data would've been compromised!" Lena looked like she was about to cry from sheer, disbelieving joy. If anything, thought Kara, I'm the one who didn't get enough credit. I did a lot more than just fan the flames with that fire extinguisher!

Alongside the compromised AI and security systems, and the hacked robots, and the hidden explosives, a couple human attackers came crawling from the woodworks and while Supergirl was occupied with the drones, Kara and her fire extinguisher came in handy again.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! She may not have been Kryptonian, but the weight of the fire extinguisher gave her the extra boost she needed to knock a few of the invaders out like lights. Of course, though, it was Supergirl who rounded everyone up, flying them off to the National City jail as soon as she was sure L-Corp was safe and secure again.

A reporter cautiously raised a hand. "Ms. Danvers, how does it feel working with both Supergirl and Lena Luthor so closely?"

Kara blinked. It's like being the only person in a group project who knows the deadline is today and not two weeks from now… "H-honestly, I'm still kind of starstruck by it all. I mean, I was friends with Supergirl, and then with Lena, before all three of us started working together, but sometimes in the heat of the moment, I feel like I'm a superhero too!" Maybe it was a silly answer, but it was Kara's honest truth. Supergirl could exasperate her sometimes, but as she just told the reporter, they were friends before either of them met Lena.

"You're my hero, Kara Danvers," Lena again murmured to her, squeezing her hand. Supergirl smiled and nodded her agreement.

"You know," the Kryptonian said suddenly, "we could make this official."

"Make what official?" Kara snorted. Uh oh… What is she about to suggest…?

Supergirl grinned. "Polycule perks. Think about it. Matching jackets. Communal calendar. Sexy team-building exercises." She was holding Kara and Lena's hands. She turned to the reports and raised their hands, beaming.

"I hate you both," Kara muttered. Ugh. This wasn't supposed to be some kind of… celebrity dating gossip reveal…! She wanted to facepalm, but she was suddenly, acutely aware of the cameras clicking like tiny machine guns. Supergirl, bathed in the silver light, grinned from ear to ear. And Lena beamed with pride, finally getting to stand beside the two people she loved and admired most in the world.

"Love you too," Supergirl whispered to Kara, winking. Kara shot her a look, but Supergirl was already whispering soft words of affirmation to Lena, and when Kara saw it, something in her heart finally softened.

Ok… Fine. We can be a tabloid trio. But just this once!

Chapter Text

"Elizabeth, please, this isn't you…!" Lucy's heart and voice broke, soft and sad. Her compassionate, blue eyes gazed forlornly at the woman she once loved more than life—and death—itself. And still do! Lucy thought mournfully, longingly. I let her turn me into a vampire because all I ever wanted was to spend eternity with her!

Elizabeth hissed the moment the smaller woman dared step forward. The handsome young man at her side stepped forward protectively.

"Thomas, wait, no!" Lucy whispered, reaching out to rest a pale hand on his shoulder. He frowned, but went still.

Elizabeth's snarl deepened. If you need any further proof of your betrayal, look no further! She was referring to herself just as much as she was to Lucy and Thomas. I should've known! I should've seen it even back then…! But I was blinded… By love. When Lucy met Thomas, Elizabeth thought nothing of it. When she turned him to spare his life and they began spending more time together, Elizabeth quelled her suspicions even as they grew. And then even when they were confirmed, Elizabeth eventually found it within her heart to forgive Lucy.

But I was an idiot! Once a cheater, always a cheater! Now the two vampiresses stood on opposing sides. Once, no one had been closer. Now, no one could've been farther apart. Even their attitudes were different, Lucy desperate to win Elizabeth back, and Elizabeth hateful and livid.

"Elizabeth, enough." The fourth and final vampire of their quartet, their family, strode forth. His long, dark robe barely skimmed the ground as his bald head gleamed in the dim light of the darkened mansion. Once a place of love and laughter, their home became the cruelest battleground. And fear flickered in the back of every mind. This house—the Adams Estate—might very well become their tomb.

"John—!" Elizabeth snarled again, fangs flashing in the faint moonlight, but this time, there was genuine sorrow in her tone. Et tu, brute?

"I understand you are hurting," he said calmly, but he crossed his arms as he stood unflinchingly in front of her. "As the leader of the family," he acknowledged, tilting his head, but then she looked away uncomfortably, "you feel that it isn't right that Lucy was recognized by the ritual rather than you. But you know the ritual was out of any of our hands. That's why we did it at all! You cannot blame Lucy—or anyone else—for the outcome. Nothing went wrong, no one did any wrong. It just… didn't do what we thought it would…" The silence was deafening, and Lucy was sure that if she still had a pulse, her heart would've been racing. But every word John said was true. The only question, how Elizabeth would react.

"Why wasn't it me? It doesn't even make any sense! Lucy isn't superior to me! Not in any way!"

"Elizabeth!" Thomas shot her a sharp, chiding look that she returned in full, but neither of them would yield. Lucy stood miserably behind Thomas while John exhaled quietly.

"I'm sure Lucy would agree with you, even if I wouldn't," he said, and the other three looked at him. "I am also sure Lucy would follow you wherever you went—"

"Yes I would!" Lucy nodded frantically.

"—so all you would have to do would be… ask." His implication hung clear.

"But I don't want what I do to be contingent upon what she does!" Elizabeth muttered. It wounded her pride to admit he was right. But he was. No, he's wrong. Because… I'm not willing to live like that. It may be the more peaceful option, but I just can't… Bile rose in her throat.

John sighed quietly again. "You are aware that if you cause any threats or harm, we will have to stop you."

"Well, that's my tradition, my heritage, my entire bloodline!" Elizabeth gave an unhinged laugh. "A duel to determine worth!" What's the point in living like this? I tire of the endless cycle, century after century. "If you win, you take it all!"

"But we don't want—!" Thomas insisted.

"If I win, I take it all!"

"You'd really kill all of us?" John asked, shaking his head, disappointed. Elizabeth felt as though she'd been struck with a burning knife.

Her frigid fury redoubled. "If I have to!" she replied, and then she said no more, lunging, fangs bared.

Thomas met her head-on, colliding with her in the center of the room. John quickly reached into his robe, pulling out an enchanted, wooden stake. It was filled with both blesses and curses. He had been a vampire since before meeting Elizabeth, a scholar of the arcane, and even though holy relics still wounded him, he could hold on just long enough to fuse the hellish with the holy. It would be enough to stop Elizabeth completely…

"I am more than a mere "vampire countess"!" she hissed as she and Thomas wrestled. "I am a vampire empress! A goddess!"

"Lucy!" John hissed, tossing her the stake as he rushed to Thomas' side. The moment Lucy's hands wrapped around the wood, she wanted to fall to her knees and beg for anything else, but she knew that they had less than seconds to act. Vampires, after all, were far faster than humans.

In a split second, while John helped Thomas overpower Elizabeth, they left a perfect space open for Lucy to strike. "I'm sorry!" she whispered, then through tears, she lunged across the room.

Elizabeth turned her head, eyes locking with Lucy's. The fury faded in an instant. Her expression cracked—not with rage, but sorrow. Deep, desperate sorrow. And then Lucy thrust the stake forward with both hands. It sank into Elizabeth's chest. Lucy released it immediately with a disgusted, horrified sob, but the work was already done. Elizabeth froze, lips parted, blood rising to her mouth. Her body convulsed. She looked at Lucy one last time, a flicker of the woman she once was flashing behind her eyes. Then her body collapsed to the ground like a marionette whose strings had been cut. Lucy dropped the stake. Her hands trembled.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so—" Tears blinded her completely.

"It's over," Thomas said gently, wrapping his arms around her trembling form. But it didn't feel over. The battle, perhaps was, but their fight with grief was only just beginning. An enemy had been vanquished, and a threat stopped, but the family was broken. Dark blood bathed the wood floors of the family mansion. Choked, Lucy wanted to speak—to say anything—but nothing came to her. At least not until—

"Cut!" someone shouted off-camera. Lights shifted. A boom mic retreated. The spell broke.

ooo

The carpet was red, the theater was gold, the camera flashes were silver, and the entire night was a rainbow of spectacle and delight. All around, press, patrons, and performers flocked, dressed to the nines, everyone eagerly awaiting the very second the golden doors slid open. None were more excited than the quartet of actors who stood off just to the side of the gilded doors, whispering excitedly to one another and chatting eagerly with anyone that passed by for a conversation or a comment.

"Ms. Adams!" One reported reached out to Elizabeth. "Stunning color choice for tonight!" Every inch of her was some shade of red.

"It might be a bit heavy-handed," Elizabeth agreed with a wry chuckle, and Lucy's stomach seized.

God, this kind of makeup and lighting makes people look too good. Inhumanly good. Inwardly, she laughed nervously. Then again, maybe that's fitting for a Vampire "Empress"… She was distracted from her thoughts by the reporter a moment later.

"And you, Ms. Banks, you wear such a calming blue! An excellent contrast!" she gushed.

"Thank you!" Lucy was well-practiced in propriety—Thank you, Elizabeth—but inwardly, she couldn't help a small, slightly sarcastic remark. Someone passed basic literary analysis. Red vs blue is a relatively common villain/hero dynamic.

"Hiya!" A friendly voice caused the group's heads to turn. Thomas and John—in gold and green—made their way through the sea of others.

"Ah, Mr. Crowne and Mr. Drake!" The reporter waved them over excitedly, completing the quartet. "How are you all feeling? Now that you've had another successful wrap?" the reporter asked excitedly.

"Well, we don't know if it's successful yet," John winked.

"John!" Lucy found herself chiding him, but she was smiling. Way to be positive… Gah! Now I'm even MORE nervous…! She subtly leaned against Elizabeth's arm for comfort. Elizabeth's eyebrows raised as she glanced at the shorter woman out of the corner of her eye, but she smiled and said nothing. Thomas was quick to come to their aid, flashing the reporter his most handsome smile.

"I'd say it's successful, just because it's another one made by us!" It wasn't just a bragging remark, though. Even if we box office bombed, I still wouldn't regret any chance we had to work together!

"Well, none of you are strangers to this industry, so I'm sure you'll navigate it expertly!" The reporter's head bobbed.

"Heh, well, that's what years of practice gets you," John's dry smile was a little more sincere. "Don't worry, I'm sure we'll do fine." Then he turned to Thomas. "He and I met at university. We've studied and grown together for a very long time, so we know each other's styles well." He left out the fact that he started in a far more research-oriented field, and Thomas was merely a classmate for Gen Eds. But the two young men stayed friends throughout their entire university.

"Heh, I would always say that if anyone could make boring lectures interesting, it was John!" Thomas smiled up at the larger man. "I listened to him talk forever!"

John finally showed a moment of softness of his own, chuckling softly as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm grateful you found it interesting enough to keep listening." Even all these years later…

"That, and I know how to keep everyone in line," Elizabeth interjected, voice low, almost sultry, eyes drifting half shut as her lips curved upward in a sly, half-smile. John and Thomas laughed in agreement while Lucy felt her stomach seize again, and the reporter looked as if she'd just been handed a front-page-worthy photo. Perhaps she had.

"I met Lucy first," Elizabeth continued, suddenly wrapping an arm around the shorter, shyer woman. Lucy nearly squeaked, but managed to hold it in, thanking her lucky stars that the mic was pointed at Elizabeth and not her. Her eyes locked on the red carpet beneath their feet. "We were friends in early childhood, though my family moved away…" For a moment, her beautiful features were marred by regret.

"Don't worry, Elizabeth," Lucy murmured, instinctively comforting the taller woman immediately. "We found each other again, didn't we?"

"And that's when we found them," Elizabeth nodded at John and Thomas, smirking. "Lucy found Thomas first. I believe they met on a separate project. And I met John outside of work, but later on, I realized he was in the industry as well."

"And thus, the collection was complete!" Thomas joked, throwing his arms around all of them. "We are… the Adams Actors!"

"Oof!" Lucy buckled, but Elizabeth and John only cast the young man amused looks.

"By the way, you can imagine my surprise when Lucy connected me with Elizabeth, who in turn reconnected me with John! It really does feel like everything came full circle," Thomas continued happily.

"Wow! So it almost sounds like fate, huh?!" the reporter fed off of Thomas' energy and the other three allowed it to persist until the hour drew near for their latest film to premiere. The lights outside the building dimmed slightly. The doors would open soon…

"What were the odds of each of us having known one another before we all came together?" John agreed with a distant and dreamy expression. "But maybe great minds think alike… We've been through a lot together, and we've got more than enough stories to share with the entire world."

Chapter Text

"Time to get our Pride on!" Emmett Cullen burst onto the Pride fairgrounds with a rainbow flag billowing behind him like a superhero cape.

"Yes, yes, yes!" His sister, Alice Cullen, came prancing in after him. Her short, wild hair was streaked with rainbow highlights. She wore fishnets and silver jewelry. A bisexual and pansexual flag fluttered from her back, giving the illusion of wings.

"Can you say, "Manic Pixie Dreamgirl"?" Emmett had teased just an hour before they left for the Pride Fest.

"Oh, like you won't be covered in your own kind of "warpaint" before the day is done!" Alice scoffed, busily applying a temporary tattoo of an iridescent butterfly to herself. She knew he would make a bee-line to the nearest face-painting booth and get himself covered in rainbow stripes to match his rainbow flag cape.

"Oh, Jazz, heeeyyy!" Emmett gave his most nasally and high-pitched greeting as he waved at his boyfriend in the distance, wrist limp. The blonde boy, and the blonde girl standing beside him, both looked over their shoulders.

"Hey, Rosalieee!" Alice took off sprinting toward her girlfriend.

"Alice!" Rosalie's tone was gruff and irritated, but she was well-used to the shorter woman's antics. She was ready, arms open. She grunted when Alice collided with her, wrapping her in a warm, gothic embrace.

"Hiya!" Alice peppered Rosalie's pale face in kisses.

"Careful with the lipstick!" Rosalie muttered, already imagining herself looking like a dalmatian, mortified.

"Well, at least the world will know you've got a very adoring girlfriend," Emmett teased. Rosalie shot him a death glare, but he already turned his attention back to his boyfriend, slinging a massive arm around Jasper's wiry shoulders. "Mmm, maybe I should've worn lipstick…"

"I'm glad you didn't," Jasper chuckled dryly, quietly. Poor Rosalie! Sorry sis. It's funny how we both wound up with wild ones…

"There's more than enough time to change that!" Emmett reminded Jasper with a wicked wink, gesturing to the sprawling fields before them. There were countless tents and booths. Surely at least one would sell lipstick or face paint.

"Oh, great…" Jasper's shoulders sank, and he was only half-joking. The thought of Emmett covering him in kisses in public flustered him, but the feeling wasn't entirely negative. Although he refused to fully admit it to himself, there was a side of him that actually enjoyed the thought of Emmett making such a clear statement. After all, Alice has no reserves about marking her territory…

Rosalie had finally convinced the little spider monkey to let get of her, but only with the reminder that shops and booths in abundance waited just up ahead. Alice needed no further reminder before grabbing Rosalie's hand and dragging her along with an excited squeal.

"We can't let them have all the fun!" Emmett snickered. Jasper agreed with a firm nod, intertwining his fingers with Emmett's before striding after Rosalie and Alice. Emmett's eyes widened in surprise, then he grinned so hard he thought his face would split in half.

ooo

"Hiya, Eddie!" Emmett waved, bellowing over the crowd as he spotted his parents' tent. Carlisle Cullen was advertising his healthcare clinic and Edward had stopped by to help. But he was never one for crowds or larger events, so he stayed hidden near the back of the tent while Carlisle and Esme dealt with the passersby.

"Oh, hi, Emmett," said Edward quietly as the far larger boy tromped over.

"Alice! Rosie! Jasper!" In the background, Esme and Carlisle happily greeted the others.

"Dude, come on, you gotta take at least one lap around the fest with us!" Emmett jerked a meaty thumb over his shoulder.

"Do I?" Edward quirked an eyebrow, the barest hint of a smirk spreading across his pale face.

"As an aro-ace, yes. You're still part of this community!" Emmett rested his hands on Edward's shoulders dramatically.

"Emmett, I've told you before that I think I'm demisexual. Gray aro-ace at best."

"Well then all the more reason to come along with us! Maybe we'll finally find you a partner!" Emmett beamed.

Edward sighed. "Is it too late to tell you I'm aro-ace?"

Just outside, Alice was eagerly updating Esme and Carlisle on all the cool things she and Rosalie had seen since reaching the event. The only reason she stopped, even to take a breath, was because another Pride-goer glided past, bumping into her.

"Oh! Sorry! Didn't mean to be in your way!" Alice jumped away from the other Pride-goer as if she'd been burned.

"Alice!" Esme chided gently, but she was smiling.

"Don't worry about it," the Pride-goer replied with an easygoing shrug. "I just wanted to see what you had at this booth."

Alice looked the Pride-goer up and down. Oooh, she—or they—rock the gothic look too! Long dark hair, endlessly deep, dark eyes, porcelain-pale skin, fishnet sleeves and stockings, the ripped, black top, the dark makeup and silver jewelry? Oh yeah…

Hmph! Rosalie narrowed her eyes, crossed her arms, and looked away.

Esme and Carlisle, meanwhile, were more than happy to hand the newcomer a pamphlet. "What is your name?" Carlisle asked warmly.

"Bella Swan." The girl's voice was low and flat.

"Well, Ms. Swan, if you or anyone in your life needs a new doctor, my family recently moved in!"

"Hmm. Thanks. I'll consider it." She took the pamphlet and slipped it into her rainbow bag. "I'm actually also somewhat new here. I mean, this is my first Pride event." She gestured around them.

"Ooooh, oh my gosh, let us show you around! Would you want that?" Alice started hopping up and down again.

Bella finally gave them a hint of a reaction, a small smirk, but she nodded. "All right. That seems… fine."

"Yes!" Alice fist-pumped the air. "HEY! EMMETT! Come on! We're about to head out again!"

He and Edward turned, and the moment Bella and Edward locked eyes, Edward felt his brain go blank while Bella looked him over curiously. It was like time was frozen, but he could see her eyes moving, studying every inch of him, even though they were several feet apart.

"So, Eddie, you still don't want to hang out with us?" Emmett's loud, obnoxious voice broke the spell as he all but lifted Edward out of the booth with a big, brotherly hug. Of course, Edward tried to protest, but Esme and Carlisle were already adding their own support to the proposal.

"That sounds like a lovely idea!" Esme smiled. That poor boy, he really does need to get out more often!

"I would like that," Bella nodded, and Edward felt his heart thump in his chest.

"I… Ok, I guess…"

"HA! Yes! He's in!" Emmett clapped him on the back, and Edward lurched forward with a wince. Bella's eyes widened for just a moment in concern, but when he stood back up, he saw a smile flicker briefly across her face. What he wouldn't have done to see it again…

As the group departed again, Edward found himself walking beside Bella. She looked stunning in the summer sun. Without thinking, he blurted out under his breath, "Is your skin… sparkling?"

"It's just pride glitter," she shrugged, handwaving him off. Up ahead, he could hear Alice laugh at him.

Oh, shoot, right, she might not even be into guys… His shoulders rose around his ears. Ugh. Hopefully they aren't too red…

But although Bella's dark eyes conveyed wry amusement, there was no malice. "Don't worry. I swing in any and every direction." She winked, and Edward felt his heart seize. He prayed to any God that would listen that Bella wouldn't notice. She, meanwhile, had the grace to look away, smiling serenely to herself.

Chapter Text

Jeez! Why is it so cold?! It's summer! Sonorhc curled up in a little ball—or, well, littler—in bed. Even though she could feel the sunlight streaming through the window—and she longed desperately to reach out and embrace that big, beautiful ball of light—the air separating her from the sun's warmth was just too cold, too cruel, for her to want to remove the blankets. Wait a minute…

It dawned on her that she couldn't have moved the blankets even if she wanted to. And she knew she was short, but this was smaller than she'd ever felt before… And even when such alarming epiphanies were surging through her, she didn't feel that familiar, annoying adrenaline rush sparking her heart into action like an AED.

What's wrong with me?! She forced herself to move toward the edge of her blanket. She wiggled forward—wait, wiggled? She glanced over her shoulder, or where her shoulder was supposed to be. Instead, all that remained was the small, but lengthy, body of a snake. What the—?!

ooo

Jeez, I miss having feet! Sonorhc thought dourly. First, she had to slither out of bed. Then she had to squeeze under the door. Then she had to slither down every step. Even wrapping around the banister didn't help her go faster. Then she had to fenagle with the door handle—and the few, basic spells she knew that would help her move the handle with just her thoughts and words—just to finally be able to make it outside. She was halfway down the driveway, consoling herself with the warm pavement, when a shadow passed overhead.

"Sonorhc?"

"Nevermore!" Oh. Of course they're a raven… A second later, the black bird landed on the pavement in front of the long, dark serpent. "Can I already guesssss? Is Reaper—?"

"Yeah, she'll be along shortly," Nevermore chuckled, head briefly dipping under their wing as they preened themself.

"Ugh. So what even happened?" the snake deadpanned, dark scales rippling as she writhed in frustration. "What did Reaper do thisssss—?"

"No, she didn't do it either," Nevermore interrupted quickly, waving a wing. "I just mean that we were able to contact each other before we were able to reach you. That's actually why I'm here."

"Ah, sorry, was napping." Sonorhc said, but she didn't sound particularly sorry.

"That's fine, we figured," Nevermore said. "Reaper's on her way over too, it just takes her a little longer than me to get places."

"Jeez, do I even want to what she turned into?" Sonorhc hissed, tongue flickering disdainfully.

"It's nothing bad!" Nevermore insisted. "Between the two of us, I would still be the fastest one, but there's nothing wrong with being a snake either! It's just because I have the advantage of flight, but neither of you two do."

"Again?" Sonorhc's tongue flickered again, but this time in wry amusement. As humans, she was a necromancer, and Reaper was her inverse, a "Destructionist". Nevermore was the only one among them with something resembling "flight", as they were able to become a shadow.

"H-e-e-ey, you gu-u-u-uys!" A distant bleating grew louder until a black and red goat trotted into view. "Talk about Call of the Wild, huh?!"

"If I had hands, I'd be facepalming right now." Sonorhc didn't hesitate, tone deadpanning and flat.

"Meet my horns!" The goat posed as her hooves clacked up the driveway. "Scythe and Sickle!"

"You're not more concerned about thisssss?" Sonorhc scoffed, but the question was more to see what stupid answer she would receive than any genuine concern for Reaper. Of course she isn't.

"This could just be a dream!" Reaper grinned, hoofing the ground. "I'll just wake up in a little bit and look back and think "wow, that was a funny dream!" and then probably roll back over, fall asleep again, and forget by morning!"

"And if that doesn't happen?"

"We'll probably figure out what to do to fix it and turn it into a funny retrospective anyway."

If I had hands, I'd be facepalming right now… Sonorhc hissed to herself, tongue flickering in and out.

"All right, guys, we should at least try to trace the source of the problem," Nevermore finally spoke up. "While you two were arguing—"

"We weren't arguing!" the goat and snake cried in unison.

"And if we were, I was winning," the goat added smugly.

"I was just trying to get her to think for a—HEY!" The snake reared back, rising up on her shiny, dark coils as if threatening to strike. But the goat only gave a bleating laugh, playfully ramming her head forward, but leaving plenty of space between herself and the snake's fangs.

Nevermore sighed. "As I was saying, I was trying to see if I could sense a disturbance and I do feel a stronger concentration of magical energy up ahead…" They cocked her black, feathered head away from the suburbs and towards the town.

"All right, I'm always up for adventure!" Reaper was the first to go trotting back down the driveaway.

"Ugh, I already know we have no choice either way…" Sonorhc hissed to herself, but she finally sank back down to the ground and slithered after the goat and the raven who took the lead.

ooo

The trio traveled through the Sleeping Citadel relatively unimpeded. A few passersby gave them dirty looks out of the corners of their eyes, but nobody said or did anything.

Huh. I'm almost disappointed, Sonorhc smirked inwardly. A snake, a goat, and a raven. Come on…! Her scales were itching for an excuse to fight. Magic was mundane in their world, but people still innately feared and distrusted the dark arts, and anything associated with them. Now we need a bat, rat, and a black cat and we can keep the grim group growing!

But the people kept a polite, respectful distance. Whether it was out of fear, or simply that they did not care as much as Sonorhc thought they did, the trio was able to make it all the way to the town's astronomy tower before Nevermore finally called a halt to the search.

"Hang on, I think it's here," they murmured, hovering near the windows, trying to peek in.

"In broad daylight?" Sonorhc hissed, sunning herself along the stone path up to the astronomy tower door.

"Oh, come on, you!" Reaper teased, then she scooped Sonorhc up with her horns.

"Woah!" the snake instinctively coiled tightly around the goat's horns.

"There ya go!"

"Jeezzzzz, Reaper…" Sonorhc gave an exaggerated hiss, but made no move to slither off her companion's horns.

"Wait, hang on, yes! I see someone!" Nevermore flew back down to their companions, cawing softly.

"How do you know those aren't just normal researchers, or students, or something?"

"Well, for one, they're both anthropomorphic animals." Ah. That was convincing. Animals and shapeshifters of the like weren't a rarity in the Sleeping Citadel, but given Sonorhc, Reaper, and Nevermore's current condition…

ooo

Standing on the top floor of the observatory, there was a tall, golden lioness with a regal posture and a scarred countenance. A small, brown mouse sat on her shoulder, chattering softly in her ear.

"Who are you?" Sonorhc hissed. Like Nevermore, she knew at once that these people—animals—weren't from there.

"Jeez, Sonorhc, way to be polite," Reaper snorted, head twitching slightly in reproach.

"We're just passing through, as travelers, not intruders," the lioness answered coolly, and Reaper shivered.

Oooh! She's good! Completely unruffled! Heh, how's that make you feel, Sonorhc? The other girl's scales rubbed against her horns, but for a moment, Sonorhc said nothing else, hissing quietly.

"But, we sure could use your help," the mouse piped up. "We came here because this seemed like a magical hotbed in town, but our portal still won't open." She gestured with her tiny paws to the floor, and only then did the trio notice the sigils.

"Oh!" Reaper jumped back. "Oops."

"So you're defacing the floor now?" Sonorhc asked wryly. Not that I actually care about that.

"It'll wipe off as soon as we're gone," the mouse promised, waving her paw dismissively.

"You said you needed help opening a portal, though?" Nevermore redirected the conversation.

"Nev, you sure we should trust them?" Sonorhc interrupted, whispering so that only the raven could hear her.

"I just want to know where they're going," Nevermore replied, still looking at the lioness and the mouse. For a moment, they looked at one another, but then then nodded and answered.

"Our theory is that the universe we live in is just one of many—" the lioness began.

"Yeah that's hardly a new theory," Sonorhc snickered to herself. Multiverse and AU stuff. How quaint.

"Consider it a "Pluricosm". And my partner and I are trying to travel to the heart, the crux, of the Pluricosm. Think of it like a room full of doors, and behind each door is a universe. It won't exactly look like that, of course, but that's the best description I have that won't take all day." The mouse gave a squeaking laugh.

"The reason we want passage is because our world is in trouble," the lioness continued, sensing that this would be the trio's next question. "And we were only passing through your world, just trying to get to the next."

Sonorhc turned to Nevermore again. Could they really trust the story of a stranger?

"I see no reason not to trust them," Nevermore replied, murmuring to the goat and snake. "I can definitely sense now that, like us, they aren't actually animals, just transformed. They may be a little more humanoid than us, but we all were originally human. I'm thinking that maybe if we send them away, that could at least fix our problem, although…" The raven cocked her head. I wouldn't want to just kick them out into the middle of nowhere! That's kind of cruel…

But that seemed to be exactly what the lioness and mouse wanted, because when Reaper—and then finally Sonorhc—also agreed to help, the lioness and the mouse were ready to go without any sort of prep time.

"Don't worry," the lioness said with a grim expression, "we know what we're walking into."

"Thank you, guys, this is the most helpful thing you can do for us, so don't worry about us! I know it looks bad, but I promise it's not!" The mouse bowed appreciatively.

That's… not suspicious at all. Sonorhc sighed, but she allowed Reaper to carry them both forward toward the lioness and the mouse, then she uncoiled from around her friend's horns. Although all three of them were friends, a trio, Reaper and Sonorhc in particular embodied the two sides that separated the thin line they knew as the border between life and death. One brought back, and the other sent away. One lived in fear of the final moments, while the other was determined to live life to the fullest until then. One represented linear time, and the other cyclical.

Nevermore hovered a few inches away, watching over them as they chanted. While Sonorhc and Reaper represented Time, Nevermore represented Space. They existed, as Sonorhc and Reaper moved back and forth before them.

"Woah, they're like the Three Sisters of Fate…" the mouse whispered to the lioness. The lioness' scarred face rippled her lips twitched in amusement, but she said nothing, only crossing her paws and waiting as the room began to darken… Soon, it was pitch black. Sonorhc and Reaper chanted on, until the light slowly returned, but by then, the lioness and the mouse were long gone.

Chapter Text

There's a strange exhilaration in such total detestation, and though I do admit it came on fast, still I do believe that it can last, and I will be loathing, loathing you my whole life long…!

Galahadwinn Arduenna-Upland (of the Upper Uplands) scoffed down his snub, round, slightly pinkened nose at his roommate/classmate.

Eew… The handsome young man—with sapphire eyes; soft, short, curly, bouncy golden hair; flawlessly pale and smooth skin; a pale pink shirt; and just a hint of stubble—curled his delicate, glossed lips. While he was the cream of the Gilikin crop, the other man—the freakazoid—beside him was… practically the muddy and scummy water that filled the ruts created by his horses and carriages. Aside from the glaringly obvious, the green complexion, he lacked Galahadwinn's handsome and well-filled-out physique.

All skin and bones, that one is! Galahadwinn thought judgmentally, casting a side-eye at his roommate. And his hair… jeez! It was long, and unusually stiff. Not unlike the hair's owner itself. Galahadwinn proudly fluffed his well-conditioned curls. Honestly, has that man ever used anything OTHER than 3-in-1 bodywash, shampoo, and conditioner? Hmph! He could at least have the decency to tie it back into a ponytail! Yeah… It would at least look better than the wild and unkempt rat's nest of today.

Ugh. What even is your name again anyway? Elias? Elphias? Elvias? Whatever! Hmph… Heh, maybe it's Evilus. Wouldn't surprise me. Galahadwinn at least knew his roommate was a Thropp, but that name held little distinction compared to an Arduenna-Upland (of the Upper Uplands). Although Elias was heir to the government position of Munchkinland while Galahadwinn had no particular position of power waiting for him, the Gilikin were often better off (and in Galahadwinn's opinion, better-looking) than their Munchkindlander counterparts.

But Elias was unusual for a Munchkin, not just because of the green skin, but his unusually high height as well. And even his mannerisms, too! It is as if that man goes out of his way to be as stubborn and obstinate and contrarian as possible!

In fact, just yesterday in Home Ec., while Galahadwinn focused on stitching his family crest onto his pale pink Shiz vest, Elias was in the middle of knitting… long, fuzzy, black and white striped socks? Galahadwinn just had to burst out laughing. Not only did it look stupid—seriously, when would Elias, or anyone else, ever wear socks like those?—but the material was just so cheap. Galahadwinn, meanwhile, prided himself on his vast knowledge of fabrics and cloth, for he only designed and wore the most the luxurious.

Today wasn't all that different. This time, they stood in a kitchen, but somehow inexplicably, they were still side by side. The day before, the two had gotten into a brief altercation (a duel, Galahadwinn would claim, which he won thoroughly), pushing and shoving each other as they tried to sit in the same seat. There was no pushing and shoving today, as they were moving around a room with hot and sharp objects, but the loathing remained, fervid as a flame.

While Galahadwinn took the time and opportunity to perfect a rustic dish from his lineage's history, he could see out of the corner of his sapphire eye that the spinach-skinned man was making…

Gray goop? It's as if he's TRYING to embarrass me! No way even HE eats something that looks like THAT!

If Elias could've read minds (not that he would've considered Galahadwinn's worth reading anyway), he would've had a retort sharper than his knife at the ready. Beggars can't be choosers, and I've got mouths to feed. And actually, yes, I WOULD eat this stuff. In fact, I would eat the most of it. Because I'd always give my siblings the best of what we had first, which left me to subsist on… whatever he could get his hands on. And yes, it was often the stuff no one else wanted to eat. This was just training, so his stomach didn't get too used to the Shiz fare.

Another contrast, Galahadwinn would've considered their university food subpar, at best. While for poor Elias, it was realer than some of the scraps back home in Munchkindland. A dark smirk flickered across his emerald complexion. Even though Galahadwinn hadn't said a word, he could still feel the loathing radiating off the other man.

That, and he's not exactly the best at hiding his expressions… Maybe Galahadwinn thought he was slick, but Elias kept catching his hateful gaze and only smirking right back at him knowingly. Caught you again! That is perhaps the 38th gaze today? Which makes the 520th this week? There is no use in trying to talk to you, either. I know it would go in one ear and out the other, because there's nothing between 'em. But let me make this clear. What matters to you… does not matter to me.

Elias did not care about royal bloodlines, noble titles, fancy clothing, or overly lavish dishes. He did not care if he wasn't a suitable man or husband. He had far more important things in life to worry about than whether or not he was appeasing the invisible eye in the sky. So what if he wasn't the perfect model of gender roles? He wasn't the perfect role model for anything.

I've been called a boy, and ugly man, a wretchedly disgusting woman, a cowardly little girl. It's all the same. Nothing but hatred all the way down. What has proper masculinity ever done for me? Besides, my prissy prince, do you really think we in the east have NO way of dressing up our food? Your narrowminded, shallowmindedness is showing again. We may lack the eight-course meals of the north, but we have our ways.

Elias chanted under his breath, waving a hand back and forth in front of the pot on the stove containing his gray "slop/stew".

Despite himself, Galahadwinn paused in what he was doing to glance out of the corner of his eye again at Elias. For just a moment, Galahadwinn's insides were as green as Elias' outsides.

Lucky! How he loathed to remember that Elias had a natural gift with magic.

How 'bout a little fire, stovetop? Elias smirked as red and blue flames licked up the sides of the pot. I was named after a Unionist Saint associated with fire, after all. Though an atheist, he took a dark sense of pride in his name. The original prophet never fully died, rather, was (allegedly) lifted up in a chariot of fire by the Unnamed God himself (or itself. Did God have a gender?) The only other prominent figure to evade death like that was Sister Saint Aelphaba, who one day vanished behind the eponymous waterfall never to be seen again. Not dead, just… waiting.

Meanwhile, poor Galahadwinn had to suffer the indignity of one of their other shared professors—a Goat named Dr. Dillamond—constantly misnaming him as "Gladwinn" or "Goodwin" or "Godwin".

"Hmph," Galahadwinn finally muttered under his breath. "I'll give you a proper lesson in husbandry!"

Elias heard him and chuckled back lowly. "I don't think you know what that word means…" Just because it has the word "husband" in it does not mean it relates to the art of being a good one. Although I suppose there is some overlap…

Really, it was more of a farming term than anything. That was why Elias knew it so readily. But a more neutral definition focused on the aspect of careful stewardship. Elias' grim smirk widened slightly.

No, Galahadwinn most certainly is NOT a good steward of anything… "By the by, is this a Gilikin way of sterilizing food?" he asked a beat later, before Galahadwinn had a chance to say anything.

"What?" Galahadwinn's brows furrowed in confusion and distrust. Wait a minute… What is that rank stench…? No, for once, it wasn't Elias. It was—MY PASTRY!

Biting back laughter, Elias reveled in the sweet music of Galahadwinn frantically pleading with the stove to cool off, for the flames to stop burning. After a moment, Elias took pity on his roommate and muttered another incantation under his breath, sending a cool gust of wind to help. Luckily, the flames hadn't gotten so high that the wind fueled them. But Galahadwinn, Elias knew, would be heated the entire rest of the day, fervid as a flame. In that moment, Elias could only think one thing. Unwittingly, his mind was running the exact same track as Galahadwinn.

There's a strange exhilaration in such total detestation, and though I do admit it came on fast, still I do believe that it can last, and I will be loathing, loathing you my whole life long…!

Chapter Text

They floated through space, two small shapes against the backdrop of infinity. Stars twinkled all around them, galaxies spiraling out in quiet majesty. Only silence stretched between them, interrupted periodically by the soft hum of their spacesuits. Storm's was bulkier, almost like a set of armor, as if trying to fuse past with future, the knights of old with space rangers of tomorrow. An electric labrys even hung at her waist, though to conserve power, it was presently turned off. The suits, though, of course, always had to remain on.

"Your suit doesn't have as many features as mine," she said, blue eyes raking over Iris' lighter-weight suit. We're in space. Size shouldn't matter. That is, the suit shouldn't feel heavy to her. So there is no need for her to wear such a small, simplistic suit! What truly troubled Storm was that in particular, Iris' lighter suit was light on the safety features.

Iris, drifting beside her, turned her head and smiled. "I know what you mean, and yes, I appreciate it."

Storm huffed. "Just because you're half alien doesn't mean you can breathe in a vacuum! You're still half human, after all…"

"I am aware," Iris laughed. "That's why I'm in a suit too, you know?" She's acting like I'm naked! Ha! I bet she'd like that, The purple-eyed woman smirked. A moment later, though, her purple eyes softened. I get it. She's just worried. Even if she won't admit it.

Eyes drifting shut, Iris tapped into her Gifted powers. No, not her Gift of Death. Though that WOULD be useful right about now… Ugh, but I doubt I'd be strong enough to "kill" something as big as that anyway. Man, just my luck! One of the few people to NOT mind a Gift like Death Touch and I can barely use it. Meanwhile, in all the stories I've ever seen, people with this kind of power usually hate it, and can't turn it off!

Instead, she relied on another part of her Gifted powers, communicating telepathically with other members of her species. "Hey, Silas Gray! Come in, Silas Gray? Are you receiving me?" she joked.

"Yes. You don't have to do that every time." An old, bemused voice filled her head, and she saw a flash of red, just like his eyes.

Well, Iris thought, briefly halting their communication, we don't call very often. She knew he would simply turn it back on her, and technically, it was on her for not reaching out to him more often. But even though there was a comfortable partnership between the two of them, Silas still wasn't one she wanted to spend too much time around. It seemed that the longer one existed in his presence, the weirder and weirder things could get. Then again, here Storm and I are now, literally lightyears away—universes away, even!—and now we're facing…

Silas transmitted another image through their shared connection. It looked like a black hole at the center of a galaxy, dark and ominous, slowly consuming everything that drifted too close to it.

"It is not quite a black hole. It appears to be a planetary body inhabited by single, sentient entity."

"And how do you know that?" Iris teased. She knew the old man was wise, with the wisdom of literal centuries on his side, but as she'd noted before, he was lightyears and dimensions away.

"Because through your senses, I too can sense the biotic energy, let's call it. But it seems that it's all… uniform. Even though that planet may contain other lifeforms, they all feel a part of one, singular consciousness."

If there was anything powerful enough to mess with a multiverse, tearing at the fabric of spacetime, a black-hole-esque consciousness sounded like a strong contender.

"But how are we supposed to stop it?" Storm frowned as Iris relayed Silas' messages to her. This wasn't an enemy they could physically fight. And even if we could, there's no WAY I'd let Iris—or myself—risk ourselves so senselessly! There's a difference between bravery and stupidity. I am not a coward, I am pragmatic. If there is no path to victory, we need to decide upon something else…

"Well from what Silas told me, based on his own travels, it sounds like that thing is a version of me—"

"What?" Storm snorted.

"Apparently in this universe, you died, and I…" Iris swallowed, "kind of went mad with grief…" Sure, it sounded preposterous, but Iris knew from her own timeline that while becoming an Eldritch Abomination might've been a step too far, grief certainly was a monster in its own right. "I wonder… Could we find a universe where it was the reverse? Where I died and you lived? Maybe they could… help each other," Iris murmured, staring at the distant "black hole". Her purple eyes were sincere and contemplative, but Storm scoffed softly.

"It's a romantic, but what are the odds? Even if we found the type of universe you wanted, there's no guarantee that Iris would bond with this other, hypothetical Storm. After all, if either one of us died, would we be happy with a clone replacement?"

"No, you're right," Iris winced, then sighed. I just know that if I WERE to grieve this type of loss, the only one I'd want by my side IS the one I lost… But of course, I get what she's saying. A clone wouldn't be the version I lost…

"Although…" Storm murmured a moment later, "I have to admit, there is merit to the idea of calling upon ourselves from other universes… Maybe they would have ideas. Or at least, we'd have the strength in numbers." She smiled darkly. Of course, conflict with the black hole-esque creature was a last resort, but the thought of an army of herself amused the warrior woman. I just can't fathom that thing as Iris… she thought as she glanced at the Eldritch Abomination as well.

"You just want to meet all of our alts," Iris couldn't help but chuckle.

"No I don't!" Storm protested, head whipping back to iris. Genuinely, that thought hadn't crossed her mind.

"Hehe, I know, I know, I was teasing."

"Ugh. All right, whatever. Let's go call up our alts, I guess…"

ooo

After a bout of searching, Iris managed to locate a small rift in spacetime that was just weak enough for her to pierce through the metaphorical veil and see the universe that lay in the other dimension. Then, with Silas' guidance and instruction, they were able to skim other multiverses using that same rift. Countless combinations and possibilities passed before Storm and Iris' eyes.

In one, their personalities were swapped. In another, it was their species. In one, they were werewolf and vampire. In another, they were bitter enemies. In some, Storm was the bodyguard, but in others, it was Iris who was the sidekick. In one, Storm was the Gifted of Pain while Iris was the normal human. Some versions of them were married, some were exes, some were dating, and some were platonic friends, having partnered up with someone else. In one universe, Storm married a woman with a different flower name, and Iris was comforted by a kind and gentle west wind, who nicknamed himself Zephyrus.

"Ok, there's no way we'll have time to talk to all of them!" Storm muttered, crossing her arms, but she couldn't look away.

"Mmm…" Iris agreed. "Hey, Silas, any suggestions?"

"I'm in the middle of trying to find a pair suitable for the task at hand," he replied grimly, and then only minutes later, the portal flashed.

Storm recoiled. "They're old! Silas! Is this some kind of joke?!"

Indeed, in the mirror-like vortex before her and Iris hovered… an old, grandmotherly version of her and Iris.

"Hello, dearies," said the old Iris, eyes gleaming as she waved at her younger counterparts.

"Oh, please don't tell me we will start talking like that when we're their age," the younger Storm muttered to her Iris.

The younger Iris, though, only stared at her elder contemplatively. "Silas must've selected you two for a reason…"

"The wisdom that comes with age," her older counterpart replied, purple eyes mischievous. "We are one of the most long-lived iterations of you. If there's anyone you might want on your side when it comes to how to survive…"

"B-but, for all we know, you two come from a more peaceful universe!" the younger Storm protested. Her elder counterpart turned to her with a smile, which unsettled the younger.

"When I was your age—"

Oh, no, not THAT, Storm sighed.

"—I thought physical strength and health was the most important thing, and as my body aged, I agreed with your perspective even more. But I have also come to see that the only thing that makes it worth pushing through the pain in the first place is…" She paused, glancing at the older Iris. "Cliché answer, I know. I'm sure you never thought in a million years that you'd see yourself like this. But it's not just useless, feel-good words. How do you expect to make it through all of your decades—maybe even centuries—of life if you cannot navigate all of life's difficulties. Now, I never said you had to navigate them successfully. We all stumble sometimes. But there's far more than one type of struggle."

Storm frowned, but said no more. The older Iris chuckled again before gently steering the conversation back to the matter at hand.

"Silas filled us in on the details while we were on our way over, while you two were skimming through your other selves—"

"You were ready even back then!" Storm cried, embarrassed.

"It was cute watching you two look so interested," old Iris replied with a wink. "Besides, I was curious too."

"Anyway," old Storm, smiling, cleared her throat before her younger counterpart could retort. "We think we will take up your idea, see if we can get this version of Iris to travel the Pluricosm with us. Think of it like…a cosmic reincarnation?"

"Wait. You're actually going to play multiverse matchmaker?" Young Storm interrupted in disbelief.

"Well, not quite," old Iris promised, amused. "But it's like my Storm said. There are a lot of lessons to learn from life, some harder than others. I would very much like to help that version of me learn how to overcome her grief…"

Young Iris felt her heart thud once in her chest. That compassion in her older counterpart's voice was the exact same compassion she felt for the miserable, grieving monster inhabiting the barren planet. And then young Iris thought of her own timeline. Even though she and Storm started out on rocky terms—the fiery apprentice and the unwilling mentor—the first time they ever worked together and truly bonded happened when Storm got the chance to protect Iris on a mission, and Iris got to return the favor just a battle later.

Then, when Iris lost her childhood best friend, Clover, to death, it was Storm who became her sturdiest pillar. Even though the warrior woman wasn't one for words or emotions, she was no stranger to grief and battle. She showed Iris the way once. Now, they wanted to do it again.

Old Iris turned to her Storm, taking her old, wrinkled hand. "Well, shall we?" The rift rippled, and then she and the old Storm were gone. Their younger counterparts immediately turned toward the Eldritch Abomination. Silas watched through old Iris' eyes, transmitting the images to young Iris, who in turn transmitted them to Storm, each of them connected telepathically like a constellation. Not every start was connected, but together, they made up a network, like the Pluricosm itself, a nexus of the multiverse.

In the visions, Iris and Storm watched their older counterparts descend to the planet's surface. At first, the dark purple and black mass—Arke—tried to attack them, just as it had all other intruders. But unlike with every other intruder, Arke had never met another version of itself and its old Soulmate before. Stunned, Arke froze, allowing the old Iris and Storm just enough time to talk to before "Eurydice" struck.

"Come with us. You won't have to be alone anymore," said old Iris, glancing at the flickering specter that guarded the Eldritch entity.

"This rainbow cannot shine without the storm that is supposed to precede it," Arke replied, flickering and rippling with barely-contained rage and agony. But the old Iris only shook her head with sadness and compassion.

"Then let us go across the rainbow bridge. Maybe there will be storm clouds waiting on the other side. I can see you've walked in darkness far too long, and you could use a bit of lightning and rain again. I can only hope that I help you find what you're looking for…"

Arke wavered again, but this time in hesitation. "Well… You needn't worry about… failing me. For I think I already broke myself, heh…"

The agreement wasn't immediate, but the young Iris and Storm gasped when the darkness that had settled around the planet began to vanish. They no longer needed Silas' visions, watching the "black hole" evaporate into nothingness. But for just a moment before the last of the Eldritch vanished, Iris could've sworn she saw three figures standing in the shadows. But a second later, they were gone, back into the Pluricosm.

The fabric of spacetime rippled once all around Iris and Storm, like a house settling into place.

Huh… Dang… I guess it really worked after all… Iris looked over at Storm, who looked slowly back at her. "You know…" she gave a shaky laugh, "I kind of wonder where the heck they ended up. I mean, like, what type of universe, do you think?"

"I don't know," Storm sighed tiredly. "I just know that I'll be more than happy when I can get back to ours!"

Iris laughed to herself, then floated closer to the other woman to give her an awkward hug through their spacesuits. "Silas said we could use the portal we saw the others through."

"You're sure this will get us back to our Lastland, though, and not something like the genderbent universe again?" Storm sighed as Iris swam towards the glowing spiral. She held on tight to her wife's hand. Don't get too far away from me, ok?

"Don't worry, I'm sure." Iris squeezed her hand back. And hey, even if I'm wrong, I'd never say no to another adventure into the Pluricosm with you!

Chapter Text

1. Chapter: Gears and Guts, Green and Gold

Ship/Characters: Elphaba/Glinda

Fandom: Wicked

AU: Cyberpunk Dystopia

2. Chapter: Ghost

Ship/Characters: Storm/Iris (Stormris)

Fandom: Lastland's Last Stand (Original Story)

AU: Ghost

3. Chapter: Gotta Try Hard Sometimes!

Ship/Characters: Caelus-Stelle/March 7/Dan Heng

Fandom: Honkai Star Rail

AU: Modern Mall

4. Chapter: Tourney of the Digi-Dragon

Ship/Characters: Lyza/Rosemere (Lyzamere) and Storm/Iris (Stormris)

Fandom: Of Soulmates and Sealed Fates (Original Story)

AU: Cyber Knights

5. Chapter: Through the Looking Glass Funhouse

Ship/Characters: Misha & Sparkle

Fandom: Honkai Star Rail

AU: Body Swap and Alternate Selves

6. Chapter: Everything and Nothing Changes

Ship/Characters: Dr. Locke/Aime Key

Fandom: Locke n Key's Steampunk Workshop (Original Story)

AU: Body Swap

7. Chapter: Bad Hair Raze

Ship/Characters: Carmilla/Laura

Fandom: Carmilla webseries

AU: Species Swap

8. Chapter: Let's Get Brew n Tea

Ship/Characters: Iris/Westford (Westris) and Lydia/Lilly (Lyldia)

Fandom: Lastland's Last Stand (Original Story)

AU: Alternate Couples

9. Chapter: Are You A Mouse Or A Man?

Ship/Characters: Danger Mouse/Penfold/Prof. Squawkencluck

Fandom: Danger Mouse 2015

AU: Animals Turned into Humans

10. Chapter: Of Magic, Monsters, and Multiverses

Ship/Characters: Lauren/Morgan (Laurgan) and Ruby/Kane (Kaneby)

Fandom: Realms of the Silver Moon and Golden Sun (Original Story)

AU: Alternate Timeline and Crossover (Silas from Lastland is here)

11. Chapter: Maintaining the Agenda

Ship/Characters: Phainon/Mydei

Fandom: Honkai Star Rail

AU: Modern Day

12. Chapter: Accidents R Us

Ship/Characters: Assassins R Us gang

Fandom: Assassins R Us (Friend's Original Story)

AU: High School

13. Chapter: Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Ship/Characters: Elsa/Elphaba

Fandom: Frozen, Wicked

AU: Crossover

14. Chapter: It Takes Two to Tango

Storm/Iris (Stormris)

Fandom: Lastland's Last Stand (Original Story)

AU: Parenthood

15. Chapter: Producer By Day, Performer By Night

Ship/Characters: Beca/Kommissar

Fandom: Pitch Perfect

AU: Secret Identities

16. Chapter: A Werewolf In Space

Ship/Characters: Contessa/Beatrice (Beatessa) and Barone/Conrad (Barad)

Fandom: Crux Castle: the Vampire Countess and the Werewolf Baron (Original Story)

AU: Time Travel (2 in the past, 2 in the future)

17. Chapter: Shadow Takes All

Ship/Characters: Wick/Shilo

Fandom: Repo the Genetic Opera, the Devil's Carnival

AU: Self-cest

18. Chapter: Syntax Error

Ship/Characters: The Chimera

AU: Alternate Self

Fandom: Assassins R Us (Friend's Original Story)

19. Chapter: A Queer Quirk

Ship/Characters: Dabi/Hawks

Fandom: My Hero Academia

AU: Genderbent

20. Chapter: The Tragedy of Arke and Eurydice

Ship/Characters: Storm/Iris (Stormris)

Fandom: Lastland's Last Stand (Original Story)

AU: Villainous AU

21. Chapter: SuperCorp Harem Across the Multiverse

Ship/Characters: Supergirl/Lena Luthor

Fandom: Supergirl 2015

AU: Alternate Selves

22. Chapter: The Goth and the Prep

Ship/Characters: Carmen/Lizzy (Lizmen)

Fandom: Stonewall University (Original Story)

AU: Personality Swap

23. Chapter: Defying Despair [written by HellisJustAplace]

Ship/Characters: Ayame Hatano/Akane Taira

Fandom: Danganronpa Another ~Another Despair Academy~

AU: Danganronpa/Wicked crossover

24. Chapter: Little Girls, Big Crowns

Ship/Characters: Catherine/Clara (Clarine)

Fandom: Servant of Montiscor (Original Story)

AU: Role Swap

25. Chapter: That's Not How It Happened!

Ship/Characters: Supergirl/Lena Luthor/Kara Danvers

Fandom: Supergirl 2015

AU: Supergirl and Kara Danvers are different people

26. Chapter: The Adams Actors

Ship/Characters: Elizabeth Adams/Lucy Banks/Thomas Crowne/John Drake

Fandom: The Adams Associates (Original Story)

AU: Modern Day and Movie Star AU

27. Chapter: It's Just Pride Glitter

Ship/Characters: Alice/Rosalie, Emmett/Jasper, Carlisle/Esme, Bella/Edward

Fandom: Twilight

AU: Human Cullens and Vampire Bella

28. Chapter: Call of the Wild

Ship/Characters: Sonorhc & Reaper & Nevermore

Fandom: The Sleeping Citadel (Original Story)

AU: Humans Turned into Animals

29. Chapter: A Proper Lesson in Husbandry

Ship/Characters: Elphaba/Glinda

Fandom: Wicked

AU: Genderbent

30. Chapter: Into the Pluricosm

Ship/Characters: Storm/Iris (Stormris)

Fandom: Lastland's Last Stand (Original Story)

AU: Stormris Across the Multiverse