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vaguely-concerned · 1 month

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Ever since watching The Wire for the first time, my brain has doggedly kept working away at the Especially the lies of it all, and specifically at how much the structure beneath the different stories Garak tells contributes to the overall meaning of what he’s trying to say. While the contradicting narratives of course expertly obscure the factual circumstances of his getting exiled, using them also allows him to tell aspects and facets of the emotional truth I don’t think he ever could have, if he’d simply told the actual story of what happened. (It’s very Varric-core of him honestly.)

The first story — the ‘oh, you think you know me?’ story — says I have done things that would sicken you if you knew any detail of it. It’s clearly meant to scare Bashir away so he’ll leave him to die shamefully in peace already lol. But it’s also one of his (probably much-needed lbr) little lessons to Julian that are so frequent in the beginning, given while Garak still has some hold on himself — “Don’t be so quick to forgive me if you don’t even know what I’ve done; what would you do if this really were the sum total of what I am?” (And Julian seems to surprise him by going ‘Well, exactly the same thing, because no matter who you are I am a doctor. But I sort of take your point.’)

The second story — the letting the orphans go story — says I have failed to smother my soul in its cradle when it was required of me, and I regret that more than anything I’ve done. To my ears this is the one most shot through with active self-loathing too, which is interesting. He’s officially lost the control he’s been clinging to and it’s about to get ugly. His TL;DR is ‘Sentiment is the greatest weakness of all’, even all the way back here. (Which is the one lesson Julian steadfastly refuses to learn, which I think in turn does some serious rearrangement of Garak’s soul over the course of the show haha. Get uno reversed into the process of loving and being loved without shame asshole.) This is also where he builds up to admitting to having any sort of need for companionship or closeness at all and — so much worse — that Julian’s role in his life actually has fulfilled some of that need, and he’s DRIPPING with defensive venom over it b/c well I get it Garak vulnerability is scary it can take a person like that.

(I also feel there’s something honest and forbidden in ‘Suddenly the whole exercise seemed utterly meaningless’. I suspect ‘actually… why the fuck are we even doing this???’ is not a welcome sentiment in an Obsidian Order water cooler environment, no matter what you’re saying it about lmao. The very first seeds of him deconstructing the things he’s been taught about Cardassia and his work might be hinted at here, though they of course take a looong time to come to any real fruition.)

The third story — the ‘Elim was my best friend’ story — says hey, remember that thing you said once, about how sometimes, you have to be loyal to yourself before you can be loyal to anything else? Well. guess what. I couldn’t even be that lmao. It also furthers that thread of being divided from yourself, split, that having ‘Elim’ as a separate person around in all versions of the story brings in. He’s in control of himself again, but he essentially hands his life and soul over to Julian to decide what should be done with them.

I’ve done horrible things and it finally caught up with me, I’m getting what I deserve → I let sentiment master me and the fact that I’m too weak to do what’s needed of me shames me more than the evil I’ve done → I fucked up. I betrayed myself and everything I held to, all for nothing, and I have no one to blame for it but myself. But it’s very nice that you’re here anyway, Doctor. (Wow. I didn’t realize quite how isolated and lonely that last one was before right now. The way Tain has shaped him really has just… locked him completely into himself, huh.) We can also see a movement through from a completely professional context in the first story, to an intensely interpersonal and internal context in the last one — even his fake stories spiral in towards intimacy, which I think is what he longs for here even if he can’t quite like. Touch that without the stories as a buffer yet, it’s clearly like touching a hot stove for him to interact with it too directly.

And you know what I find incredibly interesting the whole way through? Even on his deathbed, where he’s dying from the thing Tain had put in his head, he’s protecting Tain. He puts all the blame for where he is on himself (‘My future was limitless, until I threw it away’), even if he has to employ a strange twisty logic where he’s split himself into two to do it. Don’t get me wrong, Garak has done horrific things all on his own haha, but it’s notable that he almost isolates Tain from that. ‘Tain was the Obsidian Order. Not even the Central Command dared challenge him. And I was his right hand.’ Tain in Garak’s stories is this infallible implacable weirdly distant figure, even now. Indeed, as will make a lot of sense with the revelations further down the line, more than anything it seems the gaze of an abused child desperate for recognition looking up at an idealized (if not in any way nurturing) parent.‘He was retired at that point; he couldn't protect me’, Garak says, as if what he’d need protection from in the first place isn’t Tain himself lmao, as if Tain had no active part in any of this. He never lets blame touch Tain at all. At this stage he would rather consider himself a broken flawed tool than accept that the hands that have wrought and wielded him have ever had any fault in them. AND in the middle of it all, with plausible deniability, on death’s door and knocking meekly to be let in before he must finish the mortifying ordeal of being known and test the even more daunting possibility of being loved, Garak at the same time manages to drop the breadcrumb trail of clues to make it possible for Julian to find Tain if he so chooses and gets in the ‘sons of Tain’ thing too for future dramatic irony purposes. Truly he is the Michelangelo of lying. Every falsehood a multifaceted masterpiece. Elim ‘achieving a state of intertextuality in real life is possible if you work hard and believe in yourself’ Garak. I love him so much.

I think all of this is why “I forgive you. For whatever it is you did,” works so well, because it too works on a structural level. It’s such a deceptively multilayered response — it has the syntax of a joke, in a way, and it is kind of funny even under the circumstances, but delivered with such earnest warmth and fondness. It’s both recognition and acceptance (forgiveness!). It’s saying ‘I finally understand enough of what you’re trying to tell me beneath and through all that, in whatever way you’re capable of, I see you’ and ‘my answer hasn’t changed (bitch)’. The forgiveness Julian offers here is complete — on principle, and out of personal feeling and empathy (only one of which Garak deigns to respond to during the second story, where he calls it ‘smug Federation sympathy’, placing it more completely on the principle side than it probably is. ‘Dude you’re my friend please don’t just lie down and die in a completely avoidable way on me, who else is going to not only tolerate but actually gleefully enjoy me being annoying as fuck over lunch’ seems to be the subtext that’s a lot harder to acknowledge and invite in for both of them. And yet Tain seems perfectly clear on the fact that Julian is Garak’s friend, which, y’know. Must be fun living with the knowledge that Tain has eyes everywhere looming over you every day haha guess you’d just have to tune that out.)

Most of all — ’Don’t give up on me now, Doctor’... and he didn’t! He didn’t. Augh. Ow.

#garashir #elim garak #julian bashir #star trek ds9 #ds9 #star trek #ds9 meta #S2EP22 The Wire #alternate title: baby's first brush with unconditional love through unreliable narration lol #I'm not sure I got to say everything I want to in this/found the exact right words in places or hit all the nuances #but god help me I so desperately need this out of my brain to free up some disc space so go forth little meta haha be free #I'm sure I'll come back to you in time #meta #enabran tain #(derogatory)

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demigod-of-the-agni · 3 months

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Former SOLDIER, actually

The Cloud Strife version of this drawing I did like. a day ago?

#all i did was just change the hair and eyebrows and smoothen out the jaw..... i was lazy as fuck llolllll #me distantly remembering that cloud had moles and shit but forgetting where they were: cowabunga #his little freaky eyes..... they glow in the dark. i just know it #my eyes on the other hand are about to melt out of their sockets #i went back and fixed up the belt buckles and shadows bc those things were bugging me a lot in the other pic #anyway. mr unreliable narrator i love you <3 #only just realising... he's kinda leaning to one side. like a slut. ough. sorry man #“i wouldn't know. i've never been a slut. sorry man”#cloud strife #ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy vii #artoftheagni #people who follow me are gonna be like “why is he posting about this little gremlin” and im terribly sorry but you see. you see The Gremlin #The Gremlin right? yeah. The Gremlin

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tumbleweed-run · 7 months

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A Perfect Date With Gale

@arachnethebard perhaps not what you intended but this is what happened

Since you got to Waterdeep with Gale he's been insistent that the two of you go on a 'perfect' first day... despite the fact that the two of you are already engaged.

Perfection is such a difficult thing to achieve.

1600 words because I'm physically incapable of brevity.

PG (for once)

Gale has been talking about giving you a “proper first date” for entire month you two have been in Waterdeep. Never mind the fact that you two are engaged. He’s been focusing on it near daily. Every time he brings it up you smile and nod. It’s not that you wouldn’t enjoy a nice night out exploring the city, but it’s not about that.

“Tomorrow night,” he announces one night as he enters the study. You’re petting Tara, tactfully ignoring a light smear of blood around her mouth… the tower is always miraculously free of rodents.

You find new clothes draped over a bench in the bedroom the following afternoon. You admire them for a moment, almost hesitant to touch them. They’re finer than anything you’ve worn in years, possibly ever. But despite your mild apprehension over the likelihood of destroying them before you step foot out of the tower, you don them. Gale did go through the trouble, and expense, procuring them for you.

Gale greets you outside the room, looking as though he’s been waiting the entire time you’ve been inside. You chuckle to yourself at the thought, given that it was once just his room.

He’s wearing almost traditional wizard’s robes but these are new, a deep maroon with gold accents. He’s begun to stray from the purple he wore almost exclusively when you first met him. There might be something deeper behind that if you dared to think about it for a moment. You know there’s some meaning behind the gold and emerald earring he has in. Your hand instinctively goes to it’s other half, resting around your neck.

“Shall we?” He offers you his arm, eyes sweeping over your form. His smile tells you he’s pleased with the way you look in what he’s selected.

You spend much of the walk taking in the city at dusk. Waterdeep is so different from Baldur’s Gate, and yet so very similar. Gale happily talks for the both of you.

The building you stopped in front of was beautiful to say the least, all the street facing windows were stained glass in the shape of the city’s crest. The two large heavy doors were opened and a rather bored looking man in fine clothes stood just inside them. The braziers over the steps was brightly polished brass throwing the light far into the road as if beckoning people in.

You were busy, once again, marvelling at the building you at first missed Gale’s eyebrows knitting together. He was speaking to the man in the door way, both in hushed tones. The man seemed simply uninterested in whatever Gale was telling him.

“Now I’m positive I’ve reserved a table,” Gale’s voice had pitched upwards giving away his apparent distress. “I came down myself a tenday ago and booked it.”

You saw a light go on in the bored man’s eyes. “Ah,” he said nodding, “I see the error. The table you booked is for next year. All our bookings are.”

Gale’s mouth simply hands open, a light red brushing just above his beard on his cheeks.

“Gale,” you say softly, hand going to his arm, “It’s fine we’ll find something else for tonight and come back… next year.”

You resolutely, do not laugh.

Gale, still flabbergasted into silence, looks between you and the other man. For a moment he looks like he wants to argue with one of you but wisely, wisely, nods to you instead. You lead this time as you turn away from the lovely building.

Gale seems over his shock sometime later and sighs heavily. “It’s unlikely we’ll find something worthy of our first date tonight.”

He sounds so put down your heart breaks for a moment. You don’t give into the feeling and instead hook your arm through his. “Whatever we find will be perfect,” you assure him.

He offers you a small, but doubtful smile.

You two wander, arm in arm, in the cool evening air. Gale doesn’t really seem to be looking for a new option but you are. And it appears down a dirt-packed road, you grasp his arm and point.

Gale sputters again, “The Yawning Portal?”

He seems incredulous that you would even suggest it.

“Well they’re not likely to turn us away,” you risk a tease, “and besides you’ve spoken if it dozens of times. Let’s go!”

Gale relents almost immediately when you turn to him with pleading eyes, and as soon as he does you nearly drag him down the road. You laugh, out loud this time, when Gale shuffles his coin purse further beneath his robes.

The proprietor barely spares you an eye roll as you two enter in your finery, he’s too busy to care. You run directly up to the dry well first and peer down, you can’t see anything but darkness. Gale gently redirects you to a table in the corner with an exasperated smile. Once he deems you safely secured into a relatively unoccupied corner he disappears towards the bar. Immediately you love this tavern with its rowdy clientele and atmosphere similar to many you had frequented in Baldur’s Gate.

Gale returns with two mugs full of ale. “Food will be out in a moment,” he assures you, near shouting to be heard over the noise.

You beam at him and reluctantly, he grins widely back.

One thing for Waterdeep is even in it’s most questionable of places the food is mouthwatering, a testament to Waterdeep’s reputation for the finest food on the coast. The two of you huddle together to hear each other without yelling as you eat. Gale surreptitiously points out some of the notable patrons that are there tonight. He lets you watch in rapt interest as a few bold adventurers lower themselves into the dry well, making for the Undermountain. Only once they disappeared did he launch into an explanation of the dungeon they were entering.

Seemingly too soon the food is gone and your mugs empty. You don’t want the evening out to end just yet, you realize you miss your own little adventure (perhaps not the constant near-death aspect) and this place helps easy some of the sadness. Besides, as Gale’s mugs drained he leaned closer to you, words breathed against your ear and neck as he filled you in on everything he knew.

You offer to get another round, immediately missing the warmth of his body pressed to yours as you stand.

As you return you spot him watching you. The look on his face is openly dreamy, even when he realizes your watching him.

The widening of his eyes is the only warning you receive before you trip into a rather stout dwarf you had somehow missed in your path. Your stumble sends the ale spilling down your front and most unfortunately directly over the dwarf’s head.

In an instant he’s got both hands wrapped around your arms, the mugs falling to the floor. “Now, what in the hell is wrong with you,” he snarls yanking you forward nearly bending you in half so you’re closer to his level.

You haven’t even fully registered what’s happened when just as quickly as he’d grabbed you, the dwarf is gone.

Not gone, you realize. Instead, he’s now pinned against a table by Gale. He’s got one hand on the dwarf’s collar holding him and in the other he has a small spark of flame dancing in his palm. His face is dark, both literally and figuratively. Hair loosed by his sudden movements, falling forward and shielding his eyes from you.

This…

is new.

“... made a mistake, no need to get rough,” Gale is speaking and you suddenly realize the room’s gone quiet enough that you can hear him perfectly well despite the distance between you.

In opposition to what he’s saying, the flame grows against his palm.

The smell of beer hits you first, your front completely soaked in it. Then the realization that the dwarf is similarly covered sinks in. Gale is more likely to accidentally set the man ablaze than he is to diffuse the situation.

That is what he’s trying to do, you hope.

“Gale,” you speak just above a whisper, hand coming to rest on his back gently.

You don’t want to cause the flame to catch.

“It’s alright,” You assure him, hand rubbing in a soothing pattern, “We’re alright. Right?” The last is aimed at the dwarf who is glancing nervously between the flame and you now.

“Yeah,” He nods almost imperceptibly, “no harm done.”

Whatever had come over him abruptly left Gale, in one movement he both released the dwarf and extinguished the flame.

“Well then,” you nod with an over-enthusiastic smile, “a round for everyone!” The coin pouch you hold up is Gale’s.

Everyone is instantly merry, the volume once again rising so you can no longer hear those around you.

“That’s not how I wanted our first date to go,” Gale says much later in the evening as you two are in the bath.

You’re seated between his legs, leaning back against his chest, hand lazily drawing patterns on his knee in the water. Your ruined clothes are discarded on the floor somewhere near. The scent of rosewater is diluted only slightly by the smell of a tavern

The laughter that bursts out of you is unexpected but after a beat even Gale joins in, head dipping back against the edge as he does.

“It was perfect,” you insist turning your head to look at him.

Both of his eyebrows go up. “For us,” you amend. You twist just far enough to press a kiss to his lips.

He hums against your mouth. “You still smell like you bathed in ale,” he teases, nose wrinkling.

#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 #gale x tav #gale x reader #izzy writes #fun fact this was almost longer #help how do i do short #incapable #also the earring thing is little idea for Gale and my one tav #so now all of you must suffer it as well #also is gale's use of magic a little less wizardy and more sorcerer?#perhaps but Tav is an unreliable narrator #or there's also evidence gale might be a wizard studied sorcerer #also dm rolls plot device

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lialox · 3 months

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Writing fics with Kim Dokja's POV

I feel the need to YELL INTO THE VOID with this.

I'm writing a fic where my goal is to get it to feel as 'canon' as possible and to do that I'm studying the way KDJ perceives the world.

And his overall tone is just so tired.

All the time.

He uses a lot of words like 'I knew as well', 'it wasn't strange for _____', 'obviously.....'.

Reading the novel the second time around and imagining the narrator as some guy who's been sitting in a subway for a while makes so. much. sense.

He's also pretty self deprecating, but in a way where its not obvious. Like he'll compare himself to his companions and be like 'this person is so amazing, but instead, I'm _______'. and its phrased in such a way where the reader is like !! Wow yes this person is so cool! But when reading it again, I'm like... wow you hate yourself, huh??

I opened up the novel and in almost every chapter he says at least ONE bad thing about himself. Try it. It's like playing where's waldo.

" I lived so far to make my lies a reality." - 359

"However.... to think, they willingly spent an item on me that they could’ve used on themselves. For some reason, I felt guilty about it." -433 (At this point its like past scenario 90 and he STILL feels bad about his companions using an item on him like whAT you have known each other for literal YEARS)

ALSO!! The fourth wall doesn't just offset shock.

IT OFFSETS HAPPINESS TOO.

⸢Kim Dok-Ja watched all these happen with a quiet smile.⸥

[‘The 4th Wall’ is gradually getting thicker.]

⸢As if, he was looking at a spectacle happening in the distance.⸥

(Chapter 433 ^^)

TURN OFF YOUR SKILL KIM DOKJA AAAAAAAAA

HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO WRITE SOMEONE WHO TRIES TO FEEL NOTHING.

I THRIVE OFF EMOTIONAL WRITING BUT I HAVE TO PLAY BY THIS GUY'S RULES

WHY U SO BLAND KDJ WHY

WHYYYYY

*banging head on laptop*

#omniscient reader's viewpoint #orv #rant #writing his POV is like trying to cook hot pot with water as a soup base #yes i can throw everything in there #yes its easy #but do I feel like something is missing?#100% all the time #and thats his emotions all the ones this unreliable narrator is trying not to feel #kim dokja #kdj

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pandolfo-malatesta · 10 months

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Two observations: 1. Brienne knows Jaime.

He is probably the man she knows best, of all the men she knows--better than Renly, much as she may have wished otherwise, and likely better than her father. Jaime even remarks upon how well they know each other; the feat is greater on her part, since he is the better at hiding his true nature from the world.

She learns that his reputation as a great swordsman is not exaggerated. Even weak and in chains he's nearly able to beat her. It's one of the things that she can't help but admire about him, no matter how poorly she at first thinks of him.

They’re quite literally forced into proximity, where she must clean him and care for him. She is with him at his lowest, when he's lost that which he thinks defines him and gives him purpose, and she keeps him from succumbing to despair. She's able to say the thing he needs to hear to keep him fighting.

She’s the only person who knows the truth about why he killed Aerys. It is the secret he was never supposed to reveal and he entrusts it to her. She carries that knowledge with her, and it changes her, as knowledge is wont to do.

Brienne knows Jaime, and he’s still the one she cries out for in the delirium of her most grievous injury. She knows him, and she still refuses to condemn him until the threat of a truly terrible injustice forces her to.

2. Jaime chooses Brienne.

True, in some cases he acts merely as any decent human would to another: he uses the oar to help her back into the boat, rather than clubbing her over the head and leaving her to drown, as he thinks he should; he counsels and lies and shouts and is beaten to protect her body and mind and honor from assault. And early on in their acquaintance he claims no control over the way his body reacts to hers, and over the way his thoughts turn to her.

But time and again he acts to aid her. He thinks that she is stupid and stubborn and that she deserves whatever happens to her; and he does all he can to prevent it.

It's not enough that he merely returns to Harrenhal for her. He offers Vargo Hoat gold and sapphires in exchange for her safety; when that fails Jaime jumps into the pit to protect her, with no plan and no thought for his own safety. Acting in her defense and protecting her good name becomes a habit.

He gives her what she's always wanted: a sword. But it's not just a sword; it's a priceless weapon and a quest and a chance to do what's right and good and honorable. It's his belief in her.

When Cersei pleads for his help, he burns the letter. When Brienne tells him she knows where Sansa is, he follows her without question.

#*Gym Class Heroes voice* if that ain't love then I don't know what love is #love is a VERB #so have some other verbs #Jaime x Brienne #Braime #Jaime Lannister #a paragon of unreliability as a narrator #Brienne of Tarth #I thought of quoting the books but chose not to #asoiaf #it's all well and good sharing screenshots of the actual books but I'm apprehensive about putting my own thoughts out there!#especially in such a huge and well-established fandom

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thegreenthepeacetheorange · 4 months

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It is telling that when Katniss is supposedly trying to be distant from Peeta in the first half of CF, there are two specific instances where she notes she’s in a state where her inhibitions are lowered and she worries about things she might say or do around Peeta. First, is under the influence of sleep syrup when she hurts herself and the second is after she gets drunk with Haymitch when the QQ is announced.

“A side effect of sleep syrup is that it makes people less inhibited, like white liquor, and I know I have to control my tongue. But I don’t want him to go.”

“My head’s spinning from the drink, and I’m so wiped out, who knows what he could get me to agree to?”

These aren’t instances that tell us that Peeta is a danger to her in some way while she’s in these states - because there’s absolutely no world in which Peeta takes advantage of her like that. But it reveals to us a lot about where she herself is in regards to Peeta. For all her talk of choosing Gale and the rebellion, she knows she’s harbouring feelings for Peeta, feelings she can’t even fully say to us the readers. She knows that with her inhibitions lowered around him, she’s emotionally vulnerable to him. She knows she has to restrict herself from saying/doing certain things, or even seeing him altogether because seeing him in that state? She’s a goner.

It’s that whole notion of “drunken words are sober thoughts.” In the first encounter, she’s the most physically affectionate and essentially needy (!) with him that she’s been since the victory tour and since her conflict over the rebellion/Gale’s whipping. All the restraint she’s been trying to have, the flimsy wall she’s tried to build comes crumbling down. She asks him to stay repeatedly, she holds his hand to her face and takes in his scent. And that’s her while she’s trying to be in control. So it’s a good thing she doesn’t at all go to see him the second time because she’s fully drunk then. And considering that when they meet the next morning, she’s disappointed that he’s not comforting her with hugs and kisses, I can imagine how a meet up between those two that fateful night would’ve been.

#Katniss the unreliable narrator strikes again #she lets us know so much even when she’s hiding #everlark #katniss and peeta #peeta x katniss #katniss x peeta #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #the hunger games #thg #I think she would’ve been an absolute mess if she had seen him that night #she would’ve tried to comfort him how she wanted to be comforted and Peeta would’ve had to put his hands up because he can’t do all that #Not when she’s drunk #Katniss making me laugh again because what exactly could Peeta have gotten her to agree to #bffr Katniss

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anonymous-dentist · 7 days

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Part Four of the Catboy in the Village AU

Part: One | Two | Three

Growing up on the battlefield, Cellbit's meals consisted of two things: cold mushroom soup, and unseasoned human flesh. No set times, only eating when he had managed a kill. It was a reward: no killing, no eating. Simple, and very effective at turning him into the monster he would grow up to be.

Prison meals were scheduled... more or less. During the second guard's shift outside of his cell, he would be given half a loaf of bread and a rusty metal cup of browned water. That was all he got, because he didn't deserve any more.

Now? Cellbit has gotten soft. His husband likes to cook, and it turns out that Cellbit likes to watch his husband cook. If he's in the kitchen when Roier is, he isn't walking away hungry, and it took the first two years of their marriage for Cellbit to get used to it.

The castle, though. The castle is worse.

Mealtimes are strictly scheduled. Breakfast is at eight in the morning. Lunch is at one in the afternoon. Dinner is at seven. If Cellbit and Roier aren't in attendance, they're to be dragged to the table kicking and screaming.

The food isn't even that good. It tastes like the sweat and blood of the poor oppressed farmers being forced to work for a monarchy that would happily throw them face-first into another war should one start. It's probably poisoned, too. Worst of all, it isn't Roier's, so it's just kind of terrible by default.

So it's always as such: Cellbit and Roier sit at one far end of the table next to each other. The queen rolls her eyes and tries to start a conversation that Roier politely engages in and Cellbit ignores. Cellbit doesn't eat, not even when Roier gives him big sad eyes and does that cute pouting thing he does with the voice and the face and the everything.

Today is no different. The breakfast dish is small, because apparently the Gato Kingdom doesn't do breakfast the way they do back home in the Águila Kingdom. Açaí, sure, whatever. It isn't Roier's cooking, so Cellbit won't eat it.

Roier does the little pouting thing, turning in his seat to face Cellbit and hooking both his hands over Cellbit's forearm. His eyes get huge, and his face gets sad, and he's so cute, Cellbit's heart might burst!

"Gatinho, come on!" he whines. His head tilts, awww. "You're going to starve to death, and you won't even be a handsome corpse. You'll be all-"

He bugs his eyes out and practically unhinges his jaw as he makes an utterly visceral groaning-choking-rasping-moaning sound.

The knights at the door all exchange disturbed looks.

Cellbit wants to kiss his husband now.

So he does. He takes Roier's chin in his hand, and he pulls him in for a kiss that Roier comes away from moaning sinfully enough to make a cleric drop dead.

Cellbit swipes his thumb under Roier's bottom lip, raises his hand to cup Roier's cheek.

"You make the sweetest noises," Cellbit sighs. He smiles as Roier rolls his eyes.

He turns his gaze from his husband to his so-called "sister", who looks two seconds away from coughing up her açaí.

"Speaking of noises," he says, "when were you going to tell us that our prison is haunted?"

Sensing a lost capital-'M' Moment, Roier grumbles and turns back to his breakfast. Per his request, he's gotten a plate of eggs and a small bowl of fruits to eat alongside his açaí. It's not quite breakfast like it is at home, but, well. Nothing about the Gato Kingdom is like it is at home, and it sucks.

The queen's spoon scrapes harshly against the bottom of her bowl as her arm jerks. Some of her açaí splashes up over the edge of her bowl and lands on the lap of her expensive-looking dress, good.

On a dime, all the guards in the room stand at attention. Their armor clanks, and their weapons flash rainbow in the sunlight streaming through the dining hall's enormous stained glass dome roof.

"Okay, first off, this is not a prison," the queen tensely says. She adjusts her grip on her spoon, holding it in a way that Cellbit recognizes from the way he's always held his knives. "This is a castle, and it is my home. Our home, if you ever want to consider it as such."

Cellbit nods. "Absolutely not."

"And that's fair! This is a lot for you! But it's an option for-"

"It really isn't, but this isn't about me and you. This is about whatever happened last night, because, really, if you had told me your castle was haunted, I would have been, like, ten times less likely to try and escape on the way here."

Roier nods and swallows a mouthful of papaya and covers his mouth and says, "It's true. He loves this shit. He's been trying to invent a ghost-in-a-bottle for years."

It's true. Most of Cellbit's potions are his own recipes, because most alchemical recipes require ingredients that only noblemen can afford, and he's been broke for his entire memorable life. He didn't care that he married rich, he didn't want to use Roier or his family's money just for potion ingredients. He can trap faerie essence in bottles for a quick dash of healing, why can't he trap ghosts? It's the next step, obviously.

"And I'm going to," Cellbit insists. "I just need more time!"

"Yeah, well, you've got all the time in the world now," Roier says. "You know. Because you're kidnapped."

He gives the queen a pointed look.

The queen looks two seconds from shoving her spoon into her own eye. Maybe she should do it, it would be more interesting than yet another argument about the lost prince.

She slowly lets out a very, very stressed-sounding breath. And then she smiles, all teeth, fangs and all. (Lucky. Cellbit had his fangs filed down in prison upon being arrested.)

"You like ghosts?" she asks. "Me, too! We have an entire section in the library on the paranormal. I can show you later, if you want."

Oh, ew.

Cellbit feigns interest. He leans forward in his chair and forces his ears to perk up and swivel in her direction.

"Oh, really?" he asks. "You'll have to take me there! And then I can take one of those books and break your skull open with it."

He smiles, all teeth.

The queen's face falls into frustration. Her ears turn to the side; aggression.

"Oh, fuck you!" she snaps. "I'm trying here!"

Cellbit drops his own enthusiastic expression and sneers, slumping back into his seat. His ears turn to the side; aggression.

"Nobody asked you to," he says. "You could let us go right now and we'd all be much happier, I think."

"I can't!" she shouts. She stands, eyes blazing. Her hands slam down on either side of her bowl hard enough to shake the whole table. "You are so stupid!"

Oh, so she's allowed to be angry?

Not to be outdone, Cellbit jumps to his feet and grabs Roier's spoon right out of his hand and stabs it into the table so forcefully it sticks straight up when he lets go.

"I'm stupid?" he laughs. He shakes his head, bares his teeth. "You're the one chasing ghosts, and not even the right ones! Your castle is fucked, and you're more caught up in your dead brother than the demon possessing your house!"

Roier's eyes widen. "Demon? What the fuck?"

"My brother is not dead!" the queen argues. "But he might as well be! He was a genius, and you're- you're just stupid! No wonder it took you so long to break out of prison, you had to wait for someone to think of a way out!"

Cellbit's ears ring. He can't see- is the room shrinking, is that it?

His hands twitch by his sides, long-lost claws flexing.

The queen sniffs and turns to leave.

"I'm going to solve the enigma myself," she snaps. "Since you're too stupid to do it, apparently."

Roier makes some little sound, but Cellbit can't hear it above the noise in his ears.

"You miss your brother so badly, huh?" he feels his mouth say. "Well! Why don't you just fucking join him?"

He's moving before he remembers how, and he's on the floor beneath Roier's body within seconds.

Cellbit screams and claws at the floor and reaches for the retreating form of the queen, and- oh, his face is wet, he can feel it as Roier flips him over onto his back and cups his cheeks firmly.

"Cellbo," Roier says, "enigma, Cellbit. Enigma do Cellbit. Okay? No murder, we can't go to jail. We have to get Richarlyson. And Pepito. Can't do that in jail, right?"

Cellbit's hands scramble to hold Roier's wrists.

"I hate her," he hoarsely says.

Roier nods. "Me, too. She sucks. But. Enigma. There's a mystery, yes? And she thinks you're too dumb to solve it, but we know she's wrong. You can kill her, but that'll be it. But if you prove her wrong, you can do that twice."

Twice. He isn't the prince. And he isn't stupid.

Cellbit sniffs and nods. "I'm- she's stupid. I told her she's stupid. She's too caught up in her own shit. Not very queen-like."

"Nah, she's bad at this," Roier agrees. His thumbs brush the angry tears out from under Cellbit's eyes. "But... so what? When you prove her wrong and we get to go, we'll never have to see her again."

He leans in close and whispers against Cellbit's lips, "We'll get to go home."

Cellbit's eyes flutter shut.

But:

"You're just manipulating me," he mumbles.

"Is it working?"

"...Yeah."

"Good."

'Good', indeed.

But Roier does have a point. Murder would feel good for the moment, but Cellbit would rather die than see his husband behind bars. And. And he needs his kids, he misses them so much.

So. No murder.

But there is a mystery or two at play.

One: why is the queen so convinced that Cellbit is her lost-slash-dead brother? Who told her to look for him, and how did she find him, and how does she know so much about him?

Two: what the fuck is up with the demon in the castle? Because it has to be a demon, no ghost is that powerful. Where did the demon come from, and why hasn't the queen gotten rid of it?

The queen may think that Cellbit is an idiot, but he really, really isn't. He just has a few issues. He's a genius, humble brag, he can solve these mysteries, and he will solve these mysteries. Then he and Roier can leave, and they can get their kids back from Bad, and Cellbit can be with his family again.

All he has to do is not murder the queen.

How hard can that be?

________________

To be continued

#a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose.#catboy in the village au #reminder that cellbo is a VERY unreliable narrator at all times in any au #ESPECIALLY when it comes to dealing with his sister here #meanwhile bagi... she's scheming lol

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