#i also cannot seem to remember road names and numbers'

[b-blushes]

gosh i've got a haircut tomorrow and the road i normally take may or may not be closed (i am under instructions to 'walk to the end of the driveway and have a look and then there might be someone to ask'. guy who barely leaves the house problems) BUT the problem is i don't know how any of these roads link up because i don't really go places (GUY WHO BARELY LEAVES THE HOUSE PROBLEMS) and also i'm bad at maps. me vs google maps fight to the death match coming to my house right now

[the-fiction-witch]

Ghostbusters : Afterlife

I just watched Ghostbusters: Afterlife for the first time, and here is the soup stewing in my noggin.

I am kinda mad at myself for not seeing these movies when they came out, kinda regret that now.

My own fault, I wrongly assumed they were sequels to the 2016 GB.

But not completely my fault, as... maybe the UK had a bad marketing problem, if I never picked up on that.

Then again, all I remember about these two movies' marketing was they partnered with Walkers in the UK, and the lil StayPuffs were on bags of Quavers for like... MONTHS after these movies came out.

But! My thoughts -

Credit to the director, cause I was home alone watching these at night, and that opening is... legit kinda spooky.

Interesting that they kinda kept which GB was the grandpa or atleast tried to early on when... its really damn obvious

Then again, Egon is like... not the GB I would have guessed went on to have kids and eventual grandkids. Winston, yeah. Venkmen, Hell yeah. Ray, Ehh, maybe. Egon? Really? I would have put the receptionist and the lawyer together before Egon settled down.

ahh yes I see this boy has a special interest... I am sure it will be relevant to the plot later

Ahhh so does this girl. Fantastic. setting up their skills.

This movie seemed like, at some point, it was written with the kids swapped genders. Cause in the first like 10 mins, Trevor is the most teen girl, teen boy I have seen in a movie for a good while.

I... I do not know how I feel about him lieing about his age... I feel... strange and a little concerned... just gonna look up the Oklahoma statutory laws

oooh road trip time!

The books! The chair! This is pure nostaiga bait and I am a fish

I legit thought the like roller skate diner was called Swingers for like the first half of the movie. It's not. It's spinners. ... It would have been swingers.

Trevor... do... do you only own car-related t-shirts. I mean... cool if that's your jam man but... just checking

I like podcast. he is a fun guy. I would listen to his podcast.

Ahh yes need old news clips, just make the movie grainier

This... this mom upsets me. Like physical cringe.

Ahh yes earthquakeologist.

Movie cannot decide if people know the Ghostbusters or not

awwwww the car!!!!

Ohh damn... No. This IS WHY YOU DON'T OPEN THINGS!!!

As a younger sibling I 100% think Pheobe's first asumtion to the chess board moving when she's not in the room/ looking at it, would be that trevor is fucking with her. Right? Not just me?

Movies! Human curiosity is not this strong!

Gasp! MF Gasp! your mom is there and this chair just dragged you across the room, SCREAM!!!

Oooooh secret basement

Bahhhhhh 'Just a pigeon, gimme the gun'

'Darling' Oh my.

Awwwww he got the car working with help from grandpa ghost.

after having checked with my local man, I have been informed my assumption was correct and there is no way in hell Trevor did this without some magically appearing spare parts, oil and such like.

The fact this car is in good shape and is able to make this jump shocks me

ooohh it's been improved with lil race car and gunner seat

this... this is a bad date.

We just got gonna address the father? Okay.

talking alot about your daughter... did you forget you also have a son?

I would 1000% believe there was once or more that callie left Trevor at a mall or store as a child

the fact we skipped them being arrested when that would have been hilarious

You- You have one phone call. Call your mother!!!

Also why does ray still have this number even working? why wouldn't have have changed it after so long?

Nooooo the car!!! Don't impound the car!

Walmart. Just... walmart.

I wonder if baskin robins helped to finance this movie?

awwwwwwwww lil stay puffs!! they just wanna kill each other!! Cute!

Oh damn name drop,

oooohh evil pit of death, fantasic.

Ohhh confirmed this is a child

'I'll be sixteen in feburary' 'It's june!' Sir! Sir that is not a defence... Arrest this lad. Arrest him again. keep him in the damn cell.

did the diner not do a check? like... he's working with food did they not make him show ID?!

Ooooooh Zuul!

...I don't like her asking podcast that

That opens alot of questions on... do these gods comprehend or aheard to concent laws? What... What if... like the keymaster and gate keeper are underage? What if they are family? What are the rulesssss!

Ohh nooo we doing this again

suprised so little ghosts in the town I figured we'd do more of that

Gozer! Gozer my dear, how are you. been a while. Hope your well

I dislike them using she for Gozer who we estrablished even in the OG, was without gender. For a movie in the 2020's I feel we could have done they/ them.

Ohhh these jokes

...I didn't think you could take zuul out... I guess you can

Giant trapp! love it

Oh come on trevor. Your one time to be helpful.

They Back! and... not gonna lie kinda wish they hadn't makes you feel kinda sad

Oh damn! poor lucky. didn't know Zuul could do that

Awwww ghost grandpa helping!

Gozer be trapped! Is this... perminate? Cause there was more numbers in that tomb and... you know what if a mouse nibbles these cables?

Awwww very cute goodbye!

Hu... kinda ends... abruptly. Guess that was time.

Honestly, I actully enjoyed this alot. I found myself laughing. I had a good time. I would put it on again with friends for a laugh. And I really wanna show it to my dad who is a huge GB fan, and like me never actually saw these movies. I do feel like it was written maybe to be a TV show, not a movie. I feel like if this were S1 of a show, I would adore it. Cause we could have way more ghosts, get to know this lil town,and characters could be expanded. But for what it is I am happy. I do think... it could have done with a higher rating. Its classed in the UK as a 12. and I know the orginals are PG but like... that's 80s PG, ciggerettes, swearing and ghost bJ's. I feel like if this was bumped up to a 15/17 kinda range we could have had ranchyer jokes closer to the style of the original. But that is coming from somone who just has a very dirty and dark sense of humour.

I did also get the dvd packed with Frozen empire so I will be watching that one soon.

And is trevor gonna get some fics now?

Hahhahahahah... bold of you to assume I wouldn't.

[ldysmfrst]

Breaking and Entering (4) - Mikhail

Status: Ongoing Series

Chapter number: 4 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 1,073 

Word count for Story: 9,534

Genre: Werewolf

There are no chapter titles, but each chapter will have a name listed that indicates which POV the chapter is from. Mindlinks are in italics. Conversations with their inner wolf are in bold italics.

A little about the author: I am a mother of two beautiful children. One of which is special needs, and on 3/28, they lost 75% of their vision. I started a Patreon if you feel the heart to donate towards helping with the medical costs of appointments, medication, and modifications to the house, which insurance doesn't cover.

Warnings: (I am not good at this, but I will try. Let me know if I missed anything!!) NOT BETA READ!! This story will have a bit of angst, fluff, smut, f/m, and m/m. This chapter doesn't have any warnings... unless I missed some.

BREAKING AND ENTERING MASTER LIST

LDYSMFRST MASTER LIST

My world got flipped again with two simple works – High school.

Like actual high school with other students. 

Not alone with a tutor in the library of the packhouse. 

After my father wished me luck, Aliaksandr, Mitch, and I moved to Gamma Jon's office to discuss my day. I started at 8 a.m. and ended at 3 p.m., followed by training with the warriors my age, who would be under my command. 

"What do you mean I have a free third period? What is brunch? I thought there were sports after school, not training?" I ask no one in particular as I look down below, watching the students starting to come in quickly. 

“What’s with the block schedules?”

Most students are dressed lightly for the heat until one student catches my eye, leaving the building … wearing pants and a hoodie. Watching the student walk away, I can feel Borya get restless.

"MIKY!" Aliaksandr raises his voice, and I spin around and glare at him before I say anything, "If you want us to answer all your questions, you might want to listen to our answers. Besides, you have five minutes to get to your first class with me, and Professor Clark is not one to mess with."

"You are lucky you are my Beta, Sasha," I say as I grab my coat.

Mitch hands me a backpack and says, "In here, you have everything you need for your first 2 classes. Your locker has the rest of your stuff. I know you aren't dressed for school, but we will make do."

"What do you mean I am not dressed for school?" That is when I remembered I was dressed for the office. 

I thought this morning's meeting would be with an advisor or to settle something urgent, so I wore a three-piece charcoal gray suit with no tie and black dress shoes. 

"I cannot go to my first day of school like this! What kind of impression would that be? I am stuck up, prick, right? I think not. Hold on."

Papa, can I run home and get on something other than a suit? I mindlink my father.

Yes, Misha. You can start after brunch. Take Sasha with you.

"Sasha, you and I will go back to the packhouse so I can change. Mitch, you go ahead and get to class. We will meet back here during the third period. Understood?"

They nod in unison, and Mitch jogs out of the office. 

Sasha and I head home to my car, a deep purple Toyota Highlander, and along the way to the packhouse, I decide it's time for some answers.

"Sasha, when did you know this was going to happen?" I glare at him quickly, trying to keep my eyes on the road.

Avoiding my eyes and looking out the front windshield, he responds after a second, "About two days ago, but Mitch knew about a month ago because Gamma Jon mentioned something to him in passing."

"So, explain high school."

Listening to my Beta tell me about the cliques, the squabbles between the circles, and all the chicks, I know this year will be challenging. I not only have to integrate like I am just another student, but I also have to find the balance between being one of them and being their next Alpha.

Then, I have to deal with multiple teachers instead of one tutor. 

While it seems like a lot, this will probably be my most straightforward transition. Despite what my father thinks, I already know most of the pack. Then, my tutors were from the school and would switch depending on the topic. Having more than one at a time shouldn't be challenging, but we will see. 

The hard part is finding my mate. According to Sasha, it should be easy with all the females at the school turning 18 soon. 

Even though it seems like it would be easy, Sasha doesn’t seem to consider all of my Alpha duties. Taking the time out of those duties to attend coming-of-age celebrations means later nights for me.

I have always wondered what it would be like for humans who must go through trial and error to find a mate. In my sleepless nights, I have read books about epic battles over love or heartache over being with the wrong human mate.

Can you imagine wasting months or years of your life only to have your chosen mate be the wrong one? 

It may not be that different from living your life without being moonmatched. 

When we get to the packhouse, we have some time before we have to get back. I decided to raid the fridge for breakfast, shower, and change into dark denim jeans, a dark blue polo shirt, and blue and black Nikes. For some reason, since I learned about going to school, Borya has been restless. 

Borya, what is wrong? Why are you acting like you haven't been on a run all month? We ran last night.

She is near, our mate; she is finally close.

Do you mean she is eighteen already? We need to find her fast. 

I don't think she is eighteen yet, but I can feel her. Being an Alpha allows us to feel things before anyone else, including her.  

Right, but she is here, and I may meet her sooner than we thought.

Running downstairs, I call for Sasha. I cannot wait to tell him what Borya said. "Sasha! Sasha! I have great news!" I yell as I barrel around the corner into the main hall, almost running into my mother. 

"Good Morning to you too, Misha," she smiles at me. “I hear your father finally told you the good news. You're starting in an actual high school. Remember, you are still 18 years old. Have fun with school, make friends, and find yourself."

"Mum! I am so sorry. Where is Sasha? I have great news! Borya said he felt our mate, which means she is here! She really is here!" I say with a massive smile, hugging my mother tightly. 

"That is wonderful! Now, you must ensure you are a man worth being a mate with. Oh, I had Sasha wait for you in the car. I wanted to wish you luck on your first day of school," she tells me as she walks to the front door, "Now off with you. Good luck, and make us proud."

((edited on 9/14/24))

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[lurkingteapot]

Only Friends เพื่อนต้องห้าม Ep 5

I'm finally caught up and oh, OH, this was a ride. This was very much Sand's episode, and I have a feeling when he finally does something to disappoint me he's going to devastate me … and I welcome it. He's such a well-written character so far. Feels very, very real.

Ray … it feels like he's genuinely got feelings for Sand, but he's also very much not over Mew and NOT ready to put a name to or commit to being more than fwb with Sand.

Mew kind of grew on me even more this episode, except for his inexplicable-to-me attraction to Top.

I missed Namcheuam this episode and hope to see her more next week.

Nick trying to be more like Top this episode was awful to watch, Boston seeming to react to it in a positive way was possibly worse.

Boston is the epitome of 22-y-o "I'm just telling it like I see it" and doesn't care what or who he hurts in the process. At this point I'm pretty sure the fact that Neo plays him so charmingly is his only saving grace. And the person who filmed him? probably Drake's character. Wonder whether he'll get a name eventually … which reminds me we still haven't met whoever it is Papang plays.

ANYWAY. That' the tl;dr; rambling live watch commentary below. I'm going to dive into the tag and try to see what I missed.

oh Sand, I LOVE you

new bottle design?

I love Yo, I love her so much

Sand, I'm sorry, but ชัวโมงผิเษศของไอ้เรย์ is the sweetest thing and I also take back every word I said about Sand not falling for Ray, clearly I have bad people reading skills

god Nick's e-girl look in this opening clip, I cannot

wait, does this mean next episode is Namcheuam's? everyone else has had theirs, right?

did you run out to a bakery for those croissants, Sand?

asdfasdfadsf I love them

HAHAHA NICK oh man oh man

Sand was like "… dude"

asdfasdfas Ray can't even take care of himself, wtf Nick

I can't get a read on Ray. is he trying to distract himself? is this a legitimate attempt to get over Mew? does he even know himself? idk idk

oh Nick. spite may be a great motivator, but I'm not sure this is going to work

oh fuck that's SO dangerous what are you DOING keep your eyes on the road when you bike!

YIKES

that was very VERY lucky, oh man

I love Sand and I'm really afraid that when I eventually find a flaw of his it'll be really disappointing

those helmets look like they'd do NOTHING if they faceplanted

I LOVE this, goodness

Sand, you want to be a stylist, huh

it is a very tight shirt

please don't get frisky in the CHANGING room. Boys. I know you're 22, but --

I love themmmm

Top, if you could stop it with the fucking negging that'd be grand

oh, it's the dealer (?) guy

And Mew clocked something because he doesn't just LOOK smart

Boston checking Nick out, huh

Nick's got his number but he refuses to save (or whatever the metaphor is here)

Neo's really good at looking smitten with someone, which is a shame because I'm pretty sure Boston isn't into Nick like that

Nickkk don't ask questions you don't want the answers to

Boston, you're being an asshole rn. you KNOW that's what Nick hopes for.

oh I love this shot

I love that Nick kinda detests Top while Top detests both Nick and Boston and Boston is jealous af of Mew

Sand is back and Summer just disappears. I feel sorta bad for her, but … SANDRAY

JEKD, huh? neat though. the music has The Smiths vibes

annnd Summer's given up

Aaah Blind Dining/DInner in the Dark is so cool!!

Is the staffer mad about the "glasses off same thing" comment? I think I might've been in his place.

oh that's bound to go wrong-- oop

also dudes you're being SO noisy. honestly how quiet it is here is very unlike my experience.

oh Ray, oh baby

OH it's the baseball bat rooftop

Ray, rapidly re-evaluating what's going on

oh, I love this

A mum who uses rude-familiar language with her kid, huh. We've seen it in dads, but I don't remember hearing it from many mums before.

I bet this debt collector business is going to come back and bite them in the ass, boy-who-cried-wolf style

ahahahah I LOVE Sand turning the tables on Ray like that but also I hope Ray's voice is as good as Khaotung's

oh this is so sweet

wonder if/when we'll get a "you hafta tell her, she knows!" type scene in here because I sure was thinking it

Mum is like -- yep

Okay, okay but -- Mew, your acting said you don't believe him, what's the game here??

Also "use a condom" is probably the best advice to come out of Boston's mouth so far

Top, you're making it very hard to believe you love anyone but yourself, sorry

I can't believe we're not even halfway through the show

Mew does not seem super into it and also that sofa looks very VERY uncomfortable, material-wise. Plasticky.

22yos is2g

early morning hours and booze and honesty

OH the way Sand's hand sorta twitched when Ray said that

Ray. Love. It's not your fault. Depression is insidious.

Oh no, are Nick and Boston going to interrupt AGAIN

Oh Sand :(

Bostonnnn

Sand looks like he's going to KILL Boston and he'd be right to

Boston is just. Terrible.

oooooof this is a party gone wrong for real

they were so cute and then it all went wrong

shit, Sand really is in love with him and HURT.

BABY

Sand, I don't think you should be driving

[sacredcynic]

Random Thoughts at 60

A few days ago I turned 60 years old. 60 years is a little strange. I cannot figure out if 60 years is a long time, or a relatively short period. There are times when it seems a little bit of both. Whether 60 years is short or long, it is one of those big, round numbers that typically give people a chance to think and reflect. Without further ado, here is a collection of scattered thoughts from 60 years of shuffling around this orbiting sphere.

In my lifetime I have seen Mens' fashion change from normal ties to very wide ties, only to see them get very skinny, bright and pastelly, and back to a more middle range of width again. I like it in the middle, am not overly fond of skinny, but I really hate the big wide ties. No reason.

I remember watching Apollo 8 circle the moon on Christmas Eve, and the first steps on the moon for Apollo 11. I thought that if I looked at the moon with binoculars I might be able to see the lander with the astronauts walking around. Even though I couldn’t, there was such a sense of accomplishment. I do not think we aspire enough anymore. 

Apparently, 60 years is not long enough for my Indians to win a World Series championship, or my  Browns a Super Bowl. My Indians (I will not use the new name) were one strike away in 97, and one hit away in 2016 but it all predictably collapsed. I am all alone in pain as it was the Cubs who beat them in 2016. Maybe next year, but I doubt it. 

When I was young people always dressed in their best for church. That has all changed. Now people dress the same on Sunday as they do the rest of the week. The people who really have this holiness thing down still look the same now as they did 40 years ago- and it has nothing to do with clothing. Just thought I would mention that. There is a lesson there somewhere.

I don’t know if I gave much thought to the places I would like to see when I was growing up as a teen in Marion, OH. In these subsequent years I have been fortunate to see:

- Mount Rainier on a clear day.

- Poas Volcano in Costa Rica from the rim of the crater.

- Upper Two Medicine Lake in Glacier National Park on a spectacular September day.

- Zip-lined over a Jamaican waterfall

- Mount Kilimanjaro on a spectacular morning with elephants walking in front of me

- The Road Hole at St. Andrews in Scotland

I think I still would take a Lake Michigan Sunset over all of these. Call me crazy. 

Just a little bit ago I was watching my kids play baseball and soccer. I loved watching them play sports, sing in musicals and do the things they loved. They live their own lives now and are out in the world on their own. How did this happen so fast? Now I am watching grandchildren grow up. If I had known grandchildren were this enjoyable, we would have had them first. 

I remember when I received the Texas Instruments calculator with the % function in the 8th grade. I was at the height of Western technological prowess. Things just cannot get any more advanced than that computer I held in my hand. I do not remember which model that was, but it cost around 80 bucks. Let me check my smart phone for that model number, I will get back to you. 

People love their chocolate, but I am not much for desserts. Yet I still remember a raspberry cobbler with a sweet crème sauce drizzle and blueberries from the Shields Tavern in Williamsburg, VA. I also remember a Honeycrisp Apple Crisp with homemade Ice Cream and caramel sauce from Boone’s North Country Grill in Suttons Bay, MI. I think I might walk across broken glass for either of these. 

I loved my college years. I met many new friends, and started to see that the world was a little larger than I had previously experienced. Somewhere in these years I picked this girl who would take me to the hospital when I had a kidney stone, raise my children, and will one day plan my funeral. 38 years later that was a better choice than I knew at the time. 

I am certain there are many people who are richer than me, taller than me, and better looking than me, but no one has been blessed with better friends, and I am not burdened with ex-friends. That is a good thing. Somehow in all of this, I also was lucky to have the two best kids in the world, and two others have joined the family as well along with six grandchildren. That is an even better thing. There has been a lot of change over 60 years, but the one constant has been grace. Sometimes I have searched for it, and other times I have been immersed in it, but it was more prevalent than I was aware at the time. I am sure I will look back at this time, and say the same thing. At 60 I am more confident about the existence of grace than I am of any other thing. I hope I look for it more in the years ahead. 

BTW – it was the Ti-1450.

[h8t3-d]

I like how in The Goldfinch the atmosphere is very distinctively different when Theo is with his supposed love interests and then with Boris.

First with Pippa he feels like he has to do everything for her, to be everything that he isn’t and it still wouldn’t be enough for her to just notice him at least as a friend. When reading those parts I felt as if Theo was suffocating. It even lead him to act like a stalker. Also the other part of me is thinking that he could have liked her so much because she was in the museum with him and her mother while she was alive and thought that she would be the only one to understand his pain.

Then in the attempts to forget about Pippa he tries to stay in a romantic relationship with Kitsey. She isn’t as straight forward as Pippa but still gives away what she’s feeling somehow without having to say it. Theo understands her better but in the end, he doesn’t love her. He tried to mainly for the sake of Mrs. Barbour and even for Kitsey herself but he isn’t that kind of person. And again the overall feeling of reading those parts just is as if he was struggling so hard to be someone he isn’t to please people he cares about but ends up confusing himself with what he really wants. He just took the easy road with Kitsey and thought it would be the best for him but it obviously never was.

And when he finally meets Boris after those 6+ years the whole mood shifts. It felt like Theo could finally breathe. He was unapologetically himself, not holding back for the sake of others because he knew Boris wouldn’t judge him. It was even weirdly romantic because Boris was supposed to be scared of Theo (because he thought Theo knew that he stole the painting) but as he saw him for the first time on the street he just couldn’t resist and called his name, then ran over to ‘Potter’, hugged him and caressed his face as if he wanted to make sure that he was real. Also the little things before their meeting that Theo did, like putting Boris’s last four digits of his phone number to a safe where he hid The Goldfinch, taking conversational Russian in college, literally anything reminding him of Boris and also being closest friend with Grisha who was the most alike to Boris out of the delivery man. But also the things that Boris did for Theo: coming to New York after all those years, clearly implying that he couldn’t stop thinking about Theo’s well being even after having kids and travelling the world. Remembering where to look for Theo even though he didn’t contact him in such a long time means he remembered a lot of details that he mentioned. When he met him on the street and his boss showed up to see the famous ‘Potter’, she mentioned Boris talking a lot about him, even calling him the name that Boris gave him which means it was true. It is the same as when Boris gave Kotku her nickname and he made everyone call her by that. Also we cannot forget the famous scene where they parted in Vegas and Boris literally kissed him on the lips. It seems though they’ve had their lives figured out but by the time they met again and saw each other they just couldn’t help remembering their suppressed feelings. Remember the line - we both knew without me saying it out loud to him … - which was of course i love you. I mainly made this post to make it more clear that these two have obvious feelings for one another regardless of their sexuality and there is no denying that.

[noir-ikigai]

Sigma

A simple reminder that the joke about Sigma being 3 years old will soon chew itself up so much that it will lose its relevance and everyone will understand that a joke told twice is not funny. It's not doubly funny if the joke is said in all seriousness - where are you from?

I think...I think about Sigma in the realities of life more and more.

The first thought was, of course, a comparison with a child, but because of the basic ability to know the world around. And yet it is erroneous to attribute Sigma to this status simply because:

``Sigma is far from being a "three-year-old child" that has just been born.

``It is not only children who experience the world, it is the human factor that sits at the core of our being.

Sigma is an adult that was created according to the plot and plan of someone (?), and he probably either stayed on earth, but his whole past life was erased thanks to the “book”, because he only remembers the last three years, or he was already created an adult with a certain age and a set of necessary characteristics, as if he is a "character" and not a living soul...But I even moved away from the topic.

I want to tug a bit on the headcanon Sigma, as I can't predict Sigma's exact behavior in real life.

I want to romanticize how he gets into ADA, where they begin to envelop him with increased effect with care to replenish his strength and realize that he really deserves to live, that he is not a doll, not a puppet, that he has the right to choose what he should do, what he and only he considers right and necessary. I want to scream into my pillow about it.

I imagine him not as a small, helpless boy who looks around frightenedly all around him simply from the fact that he lost his track and cannot return home. I imagine him as an adult young man who just seemed to have landed on a new planet, where everything defies his logic. He just can't quite understand why people eat colored "clouds" called "cotton candy", or why people shed tears when they're happy, or why he gets completely ecstatic and frightened when he sees a strange, fluffy ball of anger that pompously hisses at the guy, twitches his vibrissae from irritation, moves on four legs and makes an unearthly sound “me-e-eow”.

— It's a kitten, Sigma. Is he really cute?

— Kitty? Is this creature cute in your opinion?! He scolds me.

— He was afraid of you.

— I was afraid of him...

I just think that a child, namely a child at 2-3 years old, would navigate a known area very well, he would understand where to go, in which direction, and Sigma simply does not have this landmark, he does not have a motion vector for the desired roads, and also has no idea, “where to go?”, “why go?”, “why did he get lost?”, “is it necessary?”, “what is there?” etc. Sigma is just like the birth of a new star in the place of the old one - he just appeared without a clue about what his past and future are, as he only realizes his life over the past three years (perhaps that is why it is said that he has amnesia, as a hint of that the option that, nevertheless, in the past Sigma had a life on earth, perhaps he was completely different in character, had some kind of job, acquaintances, and then they rewrote to the ground and endowed with other features the personality of the croupier (?)) Because he probably does not understand people, does not understand himself. Sigma, in terms of physical and psychological parameters, is completely different from a stupid child, but "stupid" in terms of "only born and empty, like a vessel without information." He is an adult who has a number of “that, that, that”, can do "so-and-so, so-and-so, so-and-so", knows “this, this, this”. Naturally, he will not have a banal vision of the world like ordinary people, since he is deprived of this, this is not included on the page, it is not written.

But I like that Sigma's thinking is still plastic, he can be influenced by other people, so I really want Dazai to be next to this young man for as long as possible. Thanks to him, Sigma will hear the echoes of his thoughts about who he is. Sigma will definitely find the meaning of his existence - Osamu will become a guide, but he will only lend a hand for greater certainty of Sigma's actions, and created by the "book", in turn, will do everything on his own, like a real person, and not a doll whose hands were led from above.

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Top 10 animals

1. I think this is a silly question for me to take, but here goes -- my top "animals" of various types would be as follows:

Cats: Cat, cat, cat. I am not sure why I love cats so much. Maybe because I get the impression that cats don't even have to want a human relationship; it just happens, through some complex of things that are neither willed nor planned. I like to imagine myself as this weird kind of cat-spirit who is kind of indifferent and sometimes doesn't notice that she's being friends with another cat. A kind of cosmic cat. (A less cosmic cat who has cats as friends in particular would be like "meh" to me)

Bats: Bat.

Bats don't even have to be up there with the cats -- I just really love the bat. I am fond of bats for what I assume are similar reasons to the reasons I am fond of cats, but I don't even know what those reasons are. Perhaps it is some deep thing like "this is a creature in some important way like that it cannot fully be understood by non-creations." I don't know about that, but it has to be something.

I used to know a lot about bats when I was younger, more than I do these days. I read books about them (the most notable one I remember was a book about their echolocation) and I remember wanting to go out and see them in person. Then one day I visited my mother in England for a week and didn't go outside, except to go to a zoo -- which was to see the bats, in fact, and I was looking forward to it. But my interest in them had faded, to the point that the zoo was only sort of interesting, and so I found it to be rather boring after a while. This would have been fine, except I was there to be a tourist on a short trip (my mother would not have gone with me otherwise) and I felt like if I just spent a lot more time walking around and looking at stuff and not being on the road with a lot of other people I'd be able to enjoy it much more.

Birds: Bird.

I have many feelings about birds -- I want to be one, I love listening to them sing, I love how they fly, I love how they look, etc. (I think of myself as a kind of bird, anyway, more than I think of myself as a cat or a bat.) I could do this entire list without mentioning birds, since I think my bird feelings are pretty deep-rooted, but I will note for the sake of transparency here that I don't really understand why many other people see birds this way, and it would be hard to summarize why they like them or see them as important. So I'll mention one thing that has always just seemed obvious to me about birds (this could have been the same when I was a small child). If you hear a bird, its name is that. If you hear it singing, it singing. If you look at it, it is that. It's not "that thing that kind of sort of looks like a bird." And yet, they are all kinds of things! And then they're these kinds of things! (And these things are birds, but not all birds are these things. Not even cats and bats are always these things.) I really like this feature of birds.

Snakes: Snake.

If you want to know why this is the number 1 animal, you should know that this is based on a kind of "what animals would you like to meet" exercise I used to do in high school (I didn't go in for this stuff as hard as I did in school, and I stopped doing it when I realized it was too stressful to do for an indefinite amount of time, but I still kept it up in college and was in the habit by the time I took the course). I remember having a list like

Animal 1: I would like to meet a ____

Animal 2: I would like to meet ____

Animal 3: I would like to meet ____

It was just the snake at the top, so I had it written down for myself to pick as "my" first animal. I thought I'd give it a try!

I've been to the Snake House at a local zoo, and it was cool. Also, this would not have worked if it weren't for a bunch of other cool things that happened, like "I visited the snake house and got the chance to feed the python that I'd written down" and "that snake was so calm and happy to be fed! he was happy!," etc.

Mollusks: Clam.

Because of the way I feel about clams, this is a hard one.

Guns: Gun.

Because of the way I feel about guns, this is a hard one.

In fact, since these are my top ten "animals" I think it says something about me -- it may be hard for people to read this as saying anything about me, but when I say something about someone it's hard for me to say less. I am a creature in some important way like that it cannot fully be understood by non-creation, and I need my life to be full of things and creatures that cannot fully be understood by non-creation. That's it! I need stuff! A lot of stuff!

[insaneoldme]

Can you rec buddie fics? Pretty please?

OMG it's my time to shine, bitches!!!

Sorry if I went a little nuts, but this fandom has some of the best writers I've ever seen. I have 186 Buddie fics bookmarked in my AO3,

I'll link here if you are interested in taking a look cause if I put them all here it would be too long. Also, I tried to show here some fics I very rarely see recced, and a little bit o the classics. This fandom has some very underrated authors, everyone in my bookmarks is worth taking a look really.

Please take a look at the warnings before reading, enjoy!!!

I Hate Accidents (Except When We Went From Friends to This) by morganofthefairies (Rated E )

Buck and Eddie had always been unconventional. Neither of them gave it much thought – they were just them. Buck and Eddie - partners, best friends, co-parents – just as entangled in each other’s lives as any actual couple in the 118.

Or, the story of how Buck and Eddie went about their relationship in entirely the wrong order.

My Heart's Been Borrowed by ElvenSorceress (Rated E)

aka the one where Taylor gives Buck his ultimate fantasy and uncovers far more than either of them expected, forcing him to confront his long held feelings for Eddie

Half Awake in Our Fake Empire by HMSLusitania (Rated E)

Buck 1.0 fathered a child and Buck 4.0 comes into custody.

Love and Bullets Both Shatter Hearts (But Only One Can Put You Back Together) (Rated E)

Agent [Redacted] Diaz is the best at what he does. Usually. But lately there's this real pain in the ass* who's been ruining his missions: Code Name "Buck."

Keep It On by R_E_R6 (Rated E)

When Eddie walks in on Buck, bent over in nothing but a hoodie, their plans for the night immediately change. Buck's outfit though? Well, Eddie requests that it stays the same...for reasons.

Heart of Flowers / Heart of Gold by ElvenSorceress (Rated T)

Buck nearly loses everything and Eddie has to follow his heart

hungry for your love by evcndiaz (Rated G)

prompt: "who’s gonna write a fanfic where chris is not cooperating with buck and eddie accidentally says “listen to your dad”?"

or; breadsticks are a metaphor for love and boning

keep your eyes on the road by iriswests (Rated M)

A glimpse into buck and eddie’s developing relationship, told through ten moments stopped at a traffic light

when things fall into place by woodchoc_magnum (Rated M)

In which Eddie asks Buck to move in with them during lockdown to help look after Christopher, which leads to certain unresolved feelings being resolved.

Carbon Date Me, Excavate Me by extasiswings, letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Rated E)

Evan "Buck" Buckley has made a name for himself as the independent bad boy of archaeology. At least, until Professor Eddie Diaz shows up with his fedora and good looks and starts beating Buck to the punch more often than not.

Buck hates his stupid six-pack covered guts.

Except for how... he might not.

Objects in the Mirror by SevenSoulmates (Rated E)

The voice had always been around, Eddie remembers it, like a stream of consciousness that babbled incoherently to the point where Eddie just tuned it out.

But then the voice started speaking directly to him. Conversing like he was a whole person standing right in front of him. Like he could see what was happening around Eddie.

Eddie shook his head. No one was talking to him, and Eddie most certainly was not talking back.

He wouldn’t talk to the boy in his head ever again. There was no boy in his head.

ripples all the way down by iriswests (Rated M)

christopher partakes in some parent trapping

dream of some epiphany by extasiswings (Rated M)

Evan Buckley is lost.

It’s happenstance that he wanders into the navy recruiting center—he’s been in San Diego for a few weeks, bartending late nights and weekends, living in a house with three other guys not because he needs the roommates but because he doesn’t want to be alone, and the military is…respectable. Stable. So Buck thinks maybe and opens the door.

Buck leaves ten minutes later with a set of printed instructions for sending his first letter, assured that he can drop it off whenever he’s ready, and a name.

Staff Sergeant Edmundo “Eddie” Diaz.

Relationship Advice from Complete Strangers Online by HMSLusitania (Rated T)

Hi, I’ve never made a Reddit post before and I’m not 100% sure what I’m doing but I need advice and can’t ask anyone in my real life. So, I [30M] have this best friend [34M]…

Leading with the Left by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Rated E)

When Buck said he was a "bartender" in "South America" what he actually meant was "stripper" in "Mexico."

And when Eddie said, "What's your problem?" what he actually meant was, "Is this about the time you gave me a lap dance?"

In other words, there's a few things the 118 doesn't know about Buck. Or Eddie. Or Buck and Eddie's relationship.

fireflies where my caution should be by littlesnowpea (Rated M)

“You never talk about your parents,” Eddie says, which is not even remotely what Buck expects Eddie to say. He frowns, tilts his head, but it isn’t a question, as evidenced by Eddie charging on. “I never asked because I figured it was your business, but the look on your face any time they’re brought up tells me you don’t get along.”

Buck swallows hard, against a lump in his throat. His parents? Eddie’s right, he never talks about them, for good reason. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, not sure what he’s even going to say.

Eddie takes it as the answer Buck is trying to make it out to be. He squeezes Buck’s wrist again, takes a deep breath, like he’s on a call with someone who’s panicking. Buck finds his breathing slowing to match Eddie’s, and Eddie nods as Buck gets it under control.

“There are people on the porch,” Eddie says, voice even. “Saying they want to meet their grandchild.”

Asked, Offered, Given, (He's) Taken by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Rated E)

People like to flirt with Buck on calls. It kind of makes Buck uncomfortable.

And that makes Eddie frustrated.

I Hit the Accelerator (But the Car was in Reverse) by extasiswings, letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Rated E)

When Buck is forced to confront the truth about his breakup with Abby, having casual sex with his hot new coworker seems like the best rebound idea.

Unfortunately, that hot new coworker turns into his best friend. But best friends can keep having sex with each other, right?

There's no way this could possibly go wrong.

Memorable by JessicaMDawn (Rated T)

Six times Buck got recognized by people he saved during the tsunami, and how his team realized he was a hero.

All Bets are Off by NobodyKnows_U (Not Rated)

Or, the five times the firefam realized Buck and Eddie were in love, and the one-time Eddie finally did something about it.

fire on fire by extasiswings (Rated T)

Or: Buck and Eddie get in the habit of sharing a bed while living together during quarantine. It's platonic until it isn't.

Better Together by Randomfandombloggs09 (Not Rated)

5 times Eddie sees Buck wearing his last name and 1 time its not just his

Daddy and Pops by EdithBlake (Rated M)

When Christopher calls Buck 'Pops' things get a bit confusing. Buck and Eddie have a talk with Christopher that ends up with both of them being even more confused by how right it sounds.

the meaning of the words you see by florenceandthemachine (Rated E)

unknown sender: Hi!

unknown sender: Just wanted to say thanks for letting me buy you a drink, and for your number. Sorry I had to run.

unknown sender: I’m Eddie by the way.

sent: hey um

sent: i don’t want 2 be this guy but

sent: i think u mayb put the wrong # in ur phone

the dream you wish will come true by woodchoc_magnum (Rated M)

In which Christopher Diaz cannot understand why his father would want to date his former teacher when Evan Buckley is right there.

vienna waits for you by mottainai (Not Rated)

Eddie doesn't deserve a soulmate.

Work Husband by hideeho (Rated T)

“What...what have you done with Buck?” Eddie is going to kill him for messing with his phone. No, that’s too extreme. He’s going to maim him. Just a little.

“Check under H,” Chim offers helpfully, shooting a look over to Hen with a smirk.

Why the hell would he be under—

Then he sees it.

Husband.

Bad Neighbors by firstdegreefangirl (Rated E)

Eddie's new neighbors are keeping him up all night. He calls on his best friend for a little taste of their own medicine.

Cross the Line by Sirencalls (Rated E)

Eddie laughs, short and quiet and almost to himself. “No. If you want to learn, then I’m gonna be the one to teach you.”

Buck is pretty sure his brain stops working. “What? Why?”

Eddie turns to look at him and steps closer, their chests only a few inches apart. “Because there are people out there who will take advantage of how naïve you are. They’ll hurt you, and I won’t.” Eddie’s eyes are so intense that Buck doesn’t have any choice but to believe him. “If you want someone to do this for you, to—to dominate you, it has to be me. I don’t trust anyone else to do it right.”

pretty in pink by dykeevans (Rated E)

Buck forgets that he and Eddie made plans to hang out until Eddie shows up and Buck's in the middle of laundry day.

His laundry day outfit consists of a small pink crop top and grey sweatpants.

Eddie loses his damn mind. Me too, though, me too.

the distance to the stars by cloudydaisies (Rated G)

“Didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

Buck just laughs. Like, honest to god giggles. Eddie is stuck fighting off doubly massive waves of butterflies and confusion, all while Buck just gazes down at him.

“That’s cute,” he hears Buck mumble, just before climbing into the truck, calling Eddie after him.

-or, everyone knows eddie is dating buck except for eddie, literally.

Something Old, Something New by dumbhuman (Rated E)

“Damn, I love weddings!” Buck’s face lit up as he closed the door.

If asked later, Eddie wouldn’t have been able to explain what came over him in that moment to make him ask the question. Or, at least, he wouldn’t have wanted to explain. The exhaustion was an easy excuse, but he knew deep down that it wasn’t a real one.

“Why don’t you come with me?”

one of the few things by thatnerdemryn (Rated G)

five times that Eddie tells someone else that Buck is Christopher's legal guardian plus one time he finally tells Buck.

I Didn't Know I Was Lonely 'Til I Saw Your Face by HMSLusitania (Rated T)

Total strangers Buck and Eddie go to couple's therapy together to get out of the therapy requirements their captains have placed on them.

things we shouldn't do by Ingu (Rated T)

“Why is everybody taking my relationship status so personally? Can’t I be fine with being single?” Buck said.

“Hey, you don’t have to say yes, be sad and alone if that’s what you want,” Josh replied. “But, I’m just saying. I’ve seen photos and this guy is volcanic levels of hot. Also, single dad, super cute kid. Saves lives for a living like you. I think you should give it a go.”

(the one where Buck and Eddie accidentally get set up on a blind date with each other, and everything snowballs from there)

Keeping It In The Family by Wolves_of_Innistrad (Rated T)

A young man shows up at the firehouse looking for Buck. Turns out Javier was a Bartender with Buck in Mexico. He’s back in LA, looking to reconnect and very flirty. Cue Eddie realizing Buck is not as straight as he thought.

kiss me (like your ex is in the room) by rebeccaofsbfarm (Rated E)

Eddie Diaz gets drunk and protective and signs up for a fake double date to get back at his friend's ex.

Leave the Light On (I'll Be Coming Home) by HMSLusitania (Rated M)

An accident on a call leaves Buck with custody of Chris after Eddie is… missing presumed.

While they navigate their new family circumstances -- and fight to stay together, despite Eddie's parents' best efforts -- a John Doe wakes up in a coma ward with no memory of his own life beyond the knowledge he has a son named Christopher and, somehow, he needs to get home

All my Buddie AO3 bookmarks

As I said this fandom has some very talented people, some of my favorite Authors's Tumblrs below, I recommend all the things they wrote and their blogs are very good.

@elvensorceress, @hmslusitania, @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels, @extasiswings

For gifs:

@arrenemris, @skylessnights (very lovely AU gifsets)

@from-nova(good gifs & content)

For Podfics: @mistmarauder everything she ever read is amazing, her podfics are high quality and she has a very lovely voice and her presence calms me down lol I recommend it

I'm sorry there are a lot more people but I'm kinda in a rush haha most of the people I follow are amazing, but the ones I mentioned here are enough to get you started or entertained for a while.

Buddie fics are amazing, this pairing has spoiled me so much, everyone I met because of it is nice and so active and talented.

Sorry mutuals if I forgot someone! 

I hope I helped Anon, have fun!

(Tell me if any link is wrong please, thanks)

[jamaiskookie]

meet me in your memories (knj)

✂︎ pairing: memory traveller namjoon x gender neutral reader

✂︎ wc: 11.8k

✂︎ TW// car crash, mentions of death, crying, mental health, mental breakdowns, spoilers for frozen 1?? um, vomiting, mentions of PTSD, three seconds of family drama, memory loss

✂︎ notes: a little gift from me for being away so long <3 luv yall also ignore how short and shitty this is!!! ignore it!!!!! 

✂︎ synopsis: namjoon is a memory traveller - he is thrusted back and forth into his world and the world of his memories, forced to re-enact his past experiences. but he doesn’t recognise you, who keeps showing up in his memories. why doesn’t he remember you? why can’t he recall any of these scenes if they’re supposed to be his memories? and why does it always feel like he’s forgetting something? 

he comes to find out that he would choose you over and over again, in whatever lifetime or world he’s in. because he always returns to you. 

✂︎ fic tunes: "eight"- iu (prod. & feat. suga) but you're at your favorite secret spot after a long day by neptjoon

masterlist asks

The road is slippery and Namjoon cranes his head out to look at the window. Rain splattering everywhere, he notes worriedly. He hopes that nobody crashes. The bus driver sitting about three meters in front of him is humming a melody to a song he doesn’t know nor recognise. While listening to the poor man hum the off beat tune, Namjoon sits in silence, wondering how sad it must be to drive a bus with no passengers but himself. 

Suddenly, his stomach drops and his head spins, and this time Namjoon is certain it’s not from the rain or the driver’s subpar driving. He lurches forward, watching as the rain knocks against the window and falls in thick ribbons. 

Click. 

In an instant, Namjoon’s world collapses around him and he is thrown into his mind. 

Seoul is sweltering hot - hot like he’s never felt before. Namjoon reaches up to clutch his head, which is still spinning, and finds himself standing in a pair of light washed baggy jeans and a sleeveless tee shirt, unlike the padding coat and thick boots he had on just a moment ago. 

“Namjoon!” Someone squeals behind him and his heart jumps. He jumps around, facing you and the view of hot street food stalls and tall buildings behind you. Suddenly, his hand is reaching out to grab onto yours and you smile softly. 

He hears his own voice ring out, clear as day: “Don’t run. I was looking for you.” 

“Psh.” You wave off his concern, handing him a shiny golden hotteok. You hold an identical one in your fist, so he accepts it and murmurs his thanks, tearing apart the pancake and stuffing it into his mouth. Sweet, hot honey and small pieces of walnut flood into his mouth, and Namjoon is momentarily surprised. Science states that you cannot taste or physically feel anything in your dreams. 

But Namjoon already proved that wrong long ago. 

He takes you by hand and drags you over to a shelter, for some rest, apparently uninterested in your cries of wanting more tteokbokki or some Chinese food. He flings you over to his side and places his hand over your shoulder, while you both silently devour your hotteoks. 

“This was a nice date.” You mumble tentatively, and oh. That’s what this is? A date? He wants to turn around and ask you for your name. Where are you from? Why am I here again? He wants to scream it out until his lungs hurt and he gets an answer that makes sense, but no matter how much he tries, his throat will not allow those words to tumble out of his lips.  

Why don’t I remember you?

Instead, he replies: “Yeah, it was. This was fun.” He tilts his head down to smile at you and Namjoon finds himself nervous. Nervous enough that his hands are shaking against his will, but he tells himself that the sweat and the nervousness are all side effects of the swampy heat this summer. 

You beam at him and Namjoon thinks you’re an angel. You lean up onto his chest to place a soft kiss onto his lips and Namjoon thinks about when he’s going to be thrown back out of his head. 

“Wanna go home?” He asks, nudging at the sky, which is already filled up with first streaks of the sunset. Purple hues and pinks and blues that all blend together nicely. You watch the sky for a moment.

“Never.” You offer no explanation after that and Namjoon doesn’t pry. He feels like he understands you, which is scarier than any other encounter he’s faced, in real life and in here. You stare up at him more intensely, and a shudder of fear runs down Namjoon’s back. “I just want to stay here forever,” You enunciate, like you want him to remember this. “Just Y/N and Namjoon.” 

Something tugs in his chest and Namjoon screams in his head, no. Longer. Not now. He slips away, gone, disappeared from the world before he can even tell you how pretty your name is. And he awakens back at the bus, where the driver is shaking him and yelling at him to get out. 

Namjoon walks home in the rain, yelling out your name in happiness until his neighbours come over politely asking him to shut the fuck up. 

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N… Y/N?” He keeps repeating the name over and over again, enough to make Seokjin annoyed, who has moved away from Namjoon’s desk to the sofa in his office just to escape the random spiel that Namjoon is hurriedly rushing through. 

“I can’t find a single Y/N in here!” Namjoon cries frustratingly, and the corners of Seokjin’s eyes soften in something that is either pity or empathy. He discards his non-fiction novel about drag queens and wigs to come over and clap a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder. 

“My friend, my crazy, idiotic, slightly insane friend.” Seokjin bends down. “You’ve checked all your yearbooks, social media, archives, newspapers… Have you perhaps considered that this person wasn’t that important? Just a passing stranger?”

“No.” Namjoon shoots down stubbornly. “They appear far too often for them not to be important.” So Seokjin shrugs, leaving Namjoon to, once again, search through the Facebook friends of a friend of a friend of a friend. 

But no Y/N’s pop up, and he’s wondering if Y/N was just a nickname. Was it even your real name? With a sigh and one single (rather impressive) agitated brow wave, he lets go and spills. He tells Seokjin about how he finally learned your name, about the places you’ve been together and how much you adore street food. 

He appreciates Seokjin for being a good friend, for sitting there and not interrupting to call him a crazy person, even if he is most certainly thinking about it in his head. Because Seokjin, at least, knows about a miniscule part of Namjoon’s tragic life. He doesn’t understand, but he gets it, and that’s all Namjoon needs in a friend. 

He doesn’t tell Seokjin about how soft and pillowy your lips feel against his, he doesn’t tell you how much he longs to do unspeakable things to you when you show up in those blue short shorts. He definitely doesn’t tell him how much he loves your name. 

Seokjin suggests a number of things. That perhaps you are a character from long ago, or maybe a passing stranger Namjoon once had a summer fling with. You may be someone long forgotten like a mutual friend in high school or college. He also suggests a psychiatric hospital to screw his head back on (as a joke, Namjoon’s pretty sure.) 

But none of those seem right. Namjoon does his best to explain, he really does. For an award winning journalist and aspiring writer, he does just about a terrible job of trying to string his words together. Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose and falls back onto the sofa, already spacing out. Namjoon weakly cries out that he knows you. He really does - he just doesn’t remember how, or why. 

Like a puzzle with a few missing pieces. 

He wonders when and if the missing pieces will ever make their way over to him. 

Namjoon gives up and flops down onto the sofa next to Jin, who squeaks out various protests about how heavy he is and how stupidly huge his arms have gotten after he started working out, along the lines of comparing him to Jungkook and calling him a gym rat. 

As usual, Namjoon doesn’t listen. 

It’s difficult to explain the feeling of falling to someone who hasn’t experienced it. The cursed Click echoes out and suddenly, the world spins around, the axis breaks and he’s physically thrown into another time, another place… another memory that he can’t seem to recall. His stomach lurches, his head hurts and there’s a small breeze flowing in. 

For a short moment, the loops of space and time are completely open to him. He can’t see it, but he can feel it. It flips his mind completely upside down and boom. He’s in a specific, random time and place. His body feels light, and every step he takes, he can physically feel it: He doesn’t belong here. He isn’t supposed to be here. Everything feels different. Even the air is more smoky, because something in this world is suddenly wrong, and it’s him. 

The next time he meets you, he is in just about the worst place to fall. Sitting in a press conference, his stomach drops and he’s dreading the fall. Namjoon can already hear his boss screaming at him, and he desperately tries to root himself to his seat, typing whatever the assemblyman is yapping on and on about. About farming and agriculture and tax cuts… 

Click. 

He can distantly hear the assemblyman candidate talk about corrupt government workers as he’s thrusted out of his world and into another. 

The memory he has the pleasure to be in this time is something not too unfamiliar. For a second, he thinks if this is just a normal day of him in his cramped, tiny city apartment. Until he turns around and realises you’re lying right next to him, sound asleep and nuzzling into the side of his neck. 

The air is crisp. It’s spring, not winter anymore, and he can hear the flower petals outside his apartment complex falling lightly on the ground. This, Namjoon thinks, may just be the best memory he’s been in. The press conference and his life and his boss slips his mind and he cradles you in his chest, holding you closer and closing his eyes shut. 

“Mm?” You mumble, half asleep. “You’re suffocating me.” You hoarsely call out, and Namjoon releases you with an insincere apology. He brushes the hair out of your hair and grins, framing you in his head. He reaches to his alarm clock, which is right next to his bed as it always is to check the time. 

April 1st, 2017. 

Oh god, Namjoon winces. This means he still has that god awful haircut right now. He reaches up to feel his head, and sure enough, the horrible slicked back bleached hair is still there, an unfortunate result of his friend Hoseok daring him to drunk dye his hair. 

“You’re awake?” He asks you, and you nod slowly. 

He wonders if this memory precedes or follows the one he had with you last time, and he desperately hopes things are going in chronological order. He wants to know you just as much as you know him. Namjoon naively prays to whatever deity that controls his dreamworld: Please follow things step by step, follow the clock. 

You roll around, saying something he can’t really catch. He asks you what you said and for the first time today, you peel open your eyes directly facing him. Namjoon’s heart almost falls out of his ass, seeing your eyes bore into his own. 

“Where’s my morning kiss?” You ask cutely, nudging his nose with your own button nose. 

“Right here.” He finds himself saying, leaning in to close the inches in between your two faces. You taste like hotteok, even early in the morning. You taste like a spring day and a never ending forever. As your lips capture his and his everything is consumed by thoughts of you, Namjoon begs himself to kiss you harder. 

His past self declines politely, and Namjoon thinks about whether this counts as himself being controlled if he himself is still controlling what he says and does. 

In that moment, listening to your slow breathing and someone across the street playing simple, melodic piano chords, Namjoon tells himself: Do not ever forget April 1st, 2017. You rise from the bed and some form of protest bubbles up from Namjoon’s mouth, to which you just laugh and drag him out of bed with the excuse of wanting breakfast. 

You push him into the bathroom, where he expects to meet his sad single grey towel and foggy mirror. You push him in front, and he cringes at the sight of his hair in the mirror. You sigh. 

“Calm down. The blonde looks sexy. You can dye it back black later.” He laughs, because it’s clearly not very sexy. For once, his past self is doing exactly what the current Namjoon is pleading him to do. Does it count as reliving your memories if someone else was living through them originally? But, he reminds himself while you hand him a green toothbrush and squeeze a dollop of toothpaste on both your toothbrushes, this is him. He lived through this once and he is just taking a trip down memory lane. 

The person who lived through this before was him. 

He has to remind himself many more times before it sinks in. 

You brush your teeth next to him, fluffing your hair and squinting in the mirror to wake yourself up. Without a second of hesitation, Namjoon brings the toothbrush up and starts to brush his teeth. Nothing has ever felt more domestic or right than this, despite the tentative steps and heavy lead feeling in his throat telling him he still isn’t supposed to be here. 

You spit out toothpaste in the sink to gargle your mouth and Namjoon mimics you exactly. Somehow, you find yourselves in the kitchen, giggling while making some sort of french toast with an abundance of cinnamon floating through the air. Which makes Namjoon cough and makes you laugh even harder. 

“This is a perfect morning.” You say, peering out the window to watch the city life slowly bustling to life. People scrambling out their doors, ushering their children or pets with them. People you don’t recognise going on walks or runs. Mailmen and delivery people dropping off packages and people yelling into their phones as they hurriedly walk along the sidewalk. 

And you and Namjoon, calmly staying in your pajamas while frying toast on the pan. 

“Is something burning?” You ask, sniffing the air, and Namjoon’s blood runs cold. 

“Oh, shit!” 

You smile and shake your head while Namjoon attempts to save the blackened piece of bread to no avail. He catches sight of the corners of your mouth lifting, even as you chastise him about watching the stove and ranting on about how you’re never going to trust him in the kitchen again. Namjoon watches your pink lips, stained with a brown mudge of cinnamon french toast mixture, which lifts up and your head falls back, hair flowing around your head like a halo. 

Your laugh plays out in front of him in slow motion, and absentmindedly, he thanks that deity he prayed to for slowing this moment down. Because if there’s anything he yearns most to remember, it’s the way you laugh. A chuckle makes its way out of his own throat as well, and he’s not sure who’s in control at the moment. 

Himself or himself in the past?

Either way, they both did the right thing. Namjoon forgets. He forgets the life he has back home, he forgets Seokjin’s warnings, he forgets that he has at least a hundred articles waiting for him at work to be written. He forgets that this world is nothing but a chance for him to follow the footsteps of what he once did, with no control to say or do anything he wishes to do himself. 

But, oh, he really can’t bring himself to care. 

Those piano chords from before blend together beautifully, and you scrape the black toast into the garbage can, still teasing him relentlessly, and oh. Oh, this is what it means to have a home. You made this junk of a house into a home, and he feels like he has to return here. This is where he’s meant to return to, everyday. Each time. 

You turn around after discarding the toast and with a bright smile, you ask him to kiss you again. Namjoon thinks that he doesn’t ever have the capability to deny you when you smile like that, so he complies and crashes his lips onto yours. 

The lead, heavy feeling in his throat is still weighing him down. Except Namjoon isn’t sure whether it’s weighing him down to this world or the real world.

 The cursed deity pulls him back, pulling him through the time and space back to his own responsibilities and life. His heart is wrenched out and he reaches out, trying to grasp your hand for the last time. He falls back to his own world in a hospital bed and an IV attached to his arm with half a piece of french toast dangling in his mouth and another promise he makes with himself to meet you again with a smile on his face. 

Memories… memories that he’s lived through but can’t remember. Memories he slips into to live momentarily through the actions and words of his old self. 

Somewhere along the line of diving back and forth his own life and this past one, he has forgotten which is which. 

“Most likely due to exhaustion. Lack of sleep, lack of rest. It’s quite common with working young adults, workaholics. I’m putting him on medical leave for the rest of the week. He needs a rest - He needed it yesterday. Don’t worry too much, Mrs. Kim. A long nap and a meal or two will fix him right back up.” Namjoon groggily registers the white walls and beeping noises, the chatter of doctors and nurses rushing around. 

He’s in a hospital, and a rush of fear runs straight through his blood. He sits up to eye his mother, sitting next to him and holding his hand. She shushes him, laying him back down on the bed, but all he can do is panic. 

“No, not here. Not here again.” He mumbles incoherently. His mother puts a hand over his eyes, shushing him again and telling him softly to go back to sleep. He doesn’t want to go to sleep, he wants to get out of here. But his eyelids are already feeling heavy and he weakly fights against his body, but before he can even process it, his eyes are shut and he is asleep. 

Seeing her son close his eyes and drift off to sleep, Mrs. Kim turns back to the doctor. 

“I’m not surprised,” She starts. “He’s always worked himself to the bone. But that’s not what I’m worried about. I’m worried about his brain.” The doctor cocks his head and looks through the papers which are clipped to a clipboard in his arms. 

“Ah, yes. I see he was in a car accident a few years ago.” Doctors are some of the most heartless people, and you can always tell how experienced a doctor is by how much sympathy they show. This doctor shows none at all, which must mean he’s been working for a long time. 

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Kim.” The doctor continues, peering over Namjoon’s sleeping body. “I see he suffered light effects after the accident. Selective amnesia, no external damages to the skull. He didn’t suffer as much. In fact, I believe the doctor in charge believed that the amnesia was mostly due to the shock of the event. But he’s received treatment for PTSD since then, right?” 

Mrs. Kim nods. 

“Good. Doctor Park also noted at the time that his amnesia actually didn’t affect much of his memory. He couldn’t remember distant relatives or kindergarten friends, but that seemed to be the extent of his amnesia. Oh,” The doctor slipped through the clipboard. “He also couldn’t remember certain knowledge about philosophers such as Freud, which he was, quote, ‘devastated over’ un-quote.” 

Mrs. Kim stays silent. 

“So, you don’t have to worry too much. Best thing your son could do for his well being is rest. And a therapist if he has a relapse or shows some symptoms such as sleep difficulties or nightmares, or physical signs like fatigue and nausea.” 

Mrs. Kim nods. “Thank you, doctor.”

That’s it, and she turns back to her son, with her hand in his. She stays there, unmoving until he opens his eyes, mumbling incoherent questions and asking his mother why he is in the hospital again, demanding to be discharged immediately. Her heart breaks a little, small cracks form for her beloved son and she kisses him on the forehead, telling him he’d be out of here in no time. 

“What did you see?” She asks quietly, and Namjoon is surprised. She never asks him about his memory walks. It’s taboo to mention it in his household. Not even his sister is comfortable talking about it. “Anything? At all? You passed out at a rather unfortunate time, I heard.” She continues. 

“Nothing much.” Namjoon replies, lying through his teeth and trying to justify it with the sight of your laugh. He leans back and closes his eyes once more, bringing up his memories of you and your bedhead. He tries to fill the gap inside of him with thoughts of you, as if that can make up for the empty feeling that he’s forgetting something. 

In the hospital, staring at a white ceiling and glaring lights, Namjoon is left to think about what’s happening to his head. During the end of his rather short stay, he comes up with a terrifying conclusion. One that scares him more than he could imagine, but it’s the only one that makes sense. He’s falling in love with you. 

He voices out this concern to Seokjin when he visits after his mother leaves. Seokjin stays silent, mumbling out an apology that feels like the wrong thing to say. The elder boy can only look at his friend with sadness in his eyes, telling him that someone as great as Namjoon shouldn’t be suffering so much pain. Namjoon jokes that a witch must have cursed him when he was born. 

None of the two friends laugh. 

This routine continues on and on, without Namjoon dwelling too much on it. Which is so much unlike Namjoon, whose main personality trait is overthinking about the smallest things. He lets the flow of time and space take him wherever they wish to plop him down. He lets the evil deity toy with his heart and wrench him away whenever you smile the largest. 

It hurts right after he is torn away from you, but he’s filled with so much joy in the moment that he can’t bring himself to do anything else about it. Even if he wanted to do something without it, he has no idea where on earth he might start. 

Sometimes he questions the validity of his memories. What is real, what is fake? He still can’t answer, and this is what he spends most of his time wondering about. The memories he has with you don’t make sense. Those are large gaps in his life that he seems to have no recollection of. 

He goes everywhere with you. 

One day he showed up on November 5th, 2015. 

The next day he jumped to August 23rd, 2017. 

Another time, he was thrown into March 15th, 2016. 

None of it makes sense. Are they not memories? He thinks. There’s no possible way he’s spent this much of his life with you and can’t recall any of it. What is real - the world he spends with you, or the world where he always returns to by default?

And yet, nothing else can explain these short periods of blackouts. Ever since one day in some horrible hospital, he’s gone under and pulled and thrusted into some land where he has no control over his own hands. Everything else makes sense. This world, everything else is accurate from the settings to the props, with one anomaly in his memory. 

A character who goes by the name of Y/N. 

He could go the science-y logic route that he so often frequents, come up with theories that can somewhat explain these periods of time. Theories that include explanations such as hallucinations, or that Seokjin’s right and he’s finally gone crazy. You’re just a figment of his imagination, that this is all in his head and he’s out of his mind. 

But he rejects all those theories when he’s clicked into another memory. Somehow, he just understands. These are memories. These are memories he’s had with you, whether that was in a past life or in some sort of messed up alternate timeline where he’s actually happy. 

Is this a gift or another curse from this stupid deity?

He has too many questions. 

He cannot explain these memories using science, logic, common sense, or even using his own words. But in the moment, while you’re in his arms, he can feel it. He can explain it by describing the way you smell, like pancakes and fresh mint. He can explain it by describing the way you feel, like a warm marshmallow filling up his insides and consuming him. 

It’s cheesy, cringier than Seokjin’s dad jokes, but only he gets it. 

Namjoon is in his living room, switching channels on the TV and thinking about this when his stomach sinks again. He braces himself, and disappears. 

Click.

Seoul is freezing cold. The air is light and he is sitting on a bench on his college campus, rubbing his hands together and zipping up his huge jacket over his sweater. Namjoon shudders, his body not yet used to the bite of the cold compared to the warm breeze he was just enjoying. 

He sniffles, nose slightly red like some knockoff Rudolph and wanders around. His body pulls him to go to the right, despite the warm coffee shop being on the left. He shudders again and tries to protest, but his body won’t listen, standing up and walking over to the right with no particular destination in mind. Students are rushing around, complaining about the cold and talking about their next party or study session. 

Namjoon pulls himself forwards, and thank god this version of himself still has terrible tolerance for the cold, because he reaches up and pulls his beanie down over his ears, still wandering around aimlessly. Where are you going? Namjoon wants to scream out frustratingly. 

His brain doesn’t reply and Namjoon sulks. 

Eventually, he is pulled over to another bench, outside in the cold, and he sits down, deeply resenting himself and wondering why on earth he just stood up from one bench to walk to another one. If anything, it’s colder here. He watches the students that pass by for a minute or two, thinking that this is the most boring memory he’s ever been in. 

There is no snow falling, but almost everything on campus is lined with a sheet of ice or cold steam. Namjoon nuzzles deeper into his own clothes, cursing himself for not being able to go buy another sweater or something to fight the extreme cold. 

Suddenly, you appear in front of him and Namjoon perks up. There you are. He thinks. Finally. You come over and sit down, holding something in your hands. He smiles, waiting for you to speak up and greet him with a kiss that will surely warm him up, but you silently sit next to him, ignoring him. Namjoon urges himself to say something, but instead, he continues to watch the students bustling through campus grounds without looking at you. 

Are we fighting? Is Y/N mad at me? 

This is excruciatingly frustrating, Namjoon bites his tongue and thinks. Why can’t he just say something? Abruptly, something lands on his jacket with a splat and he straightens up, snapping his neck towards you, who is looking at the yogurt splat on his jacket with a look of terror. 

“Oh my gosh!” You squeak out, quickly setting your yogurt aside and reaching for some tissues in your purse. “Oh, god, oh god, I’m so sorry. Please, let me-” Namjoon frowns, taking his hands out of his pockets to thumb at his jacket, debating whether he wants to take it off or not. 

You lean over, pawing at his jacket and wiping the yogurt off of his jacket. “I’m so sorry!” 

“No, don’t worry.” Namjoon says, chuckling. He reaches for another tissue, helping you get the yogurt off of him. “It’s no big deal.” The yogurt is mostly wiped off and you side eye him with the unmistakable look of guilt filling your eyes. Namjoon laughs again. 

“It’s fine, really! No, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m literally so sorry. Do you want me to pay for dry cleaning? Laundry? I can, um, wash it for you! I’m not the best at laundry, but it’s the least I could do?” 

Namjoon briefly wonders why you’re being so polite. 

“No, it’s fine.” The words tumble out his mouth again before he can process it. “Really, this jacket is old, anyway.” Not really, Namjoon thinks. It feels really new. “But who the hell eats cold yogurt in this kind of weather?” He jokes. “You sure you’re not a demon?”

You freeze, terrified before realising he was cracking a joke. “Oh. Hah! Yeah, no, I guess I just really like yogurt.” You offer lamely, and you break out into a small giggle. “Yeah, I guess I kind of am a psycho for eating it right now. It’s freezing today.” 

“God, tell me about it.” Namjoon says, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. 

“Thanks for not going bonkers on me. This jacket looks insanely expensive.” 

“Not really.”

“I’m Y/N.” You greet, holding a hand out for him to shake. I know, Namjoon thinks with a secret smile, but everything makes sense now. You don’t know him yet. To you in this moment in time, he’s just a random stranger who didn’t blow up on you after spraying some yogurt onto you. To him, you’re… you’re… 

“Oh, um, I’m Namjoon.” He says, hurriedly taking a hand out of his pocket to shake your outstretched hand. Your fingers meet and Namjoon swears a small zap just went through his hand. 

“Namjoon. Nice to meet you, Namjoon.” You say with a small smile, yogurt already long forgotten on the bench beside you two. 

“It’s nice to meet you too.” He says in return, even though he doesn’t mean it. He already knows you, he knows you better than everyone. He knows your favourite food is Korean street food, and you always wake him up with kisses and your favourite colour is periwinkle and you absolutely hate abalone with more passion than he’s ever seen in his entire life.

But this is your first time seeing him, ever, he reminds himself. This is your meet cute. This single moment set off the events in the next god knows how many years. This is the first time he ever had your name grace his tongue. This is the first time you’ve seen him. 

Another moment to treasure. You let go of his hand, after realising you two have been shaking hands for much longer than the socially acceptable rate of hand shaking. Blushing, either from the cold or humiliation, you sit, turn back around, grabbing a hold of your yogurt once more. 

Suddenly, Namjoon finds himself blurting out: “Hey, you wanna go get some coffee?” You look over curiously, pointing to yourself like you can’t believe he’s asking you out, because you don’t know that you’re all he ever thinks about at any given moment in any given day. “You’ll probably freeze your ass off if you keep eating that yogurt.” He jokes, pretending like this is all because he’s caring about how cold you are and not how cute or incredible or kind you are. 

“Sure.” You say, nodding shyly. He stands up, leading you to walk over to the left where the campus coffee shop is. Along the way, you throw the yogurt cup in the trash. 

“You can’t bring food brought from outside into a shop, right?” You ask. 

Namjoon smiles. “Yeah.” He stays there until night takes over the sky and one single twinkling star in the sky is signalling that it’s time to go home. Possibly the longest time he’s ever spent in a memory. He keeps glancing at the clock, praying that he gets one more minute with you, one more second, one more moment. 

At any time, he could be pulled out of this world, and he needs to make the most of it. You tell him about your childhood bedroom and your major. You tell him about the love you have for pancakes, and how much you want a puppy even though it’s prohibited in the on campus dorms. He nods, pretending like this is all new information even though it’s not, and he’s known all of this for the longest time. He knows you better than you know yourself, which he keeps to himself. 

In return, he tells you about his own childhood bedroom, which was adorned with posters of western hip hop rappers. He tells you about his passions for writing and music, that if he didn’t major in journalism, he’d be studying music production in school. He tells you that he’s obsessed with philosophy, and in all honesty, is a bit of a nerd. 

Instead of laughing or pulling a face, you nod and smile, saying that you think he should tell you more about philosophy on a second date. 

You leave the coffee shop with a small goodbye, and even though he desperately wants to, Namjoon can’t kiss you. 

He gets pulled back after you disappear pass the corner of the street, and the world morphes into a huge motion blur. When he gets pulled back into his living room, the TV is playing late night TV shows already. Namjoon checks the time. He was pulled in for five hours, the longest he’s ever been in that world. 

After that, no matter how much more he prays and begs, he never stays any longer than that. 

Three days later, Namjoon suddenly pops into Hong Kong, which is hotter than anything he’s ever felt. The streets are heavy with people, squabbling in cantonese while selling raw meats in a wet market. The sun is glaringly bright, and Namjoon starts to sweat almost instantaneously. Taxis and huge buses drive past, Namjoon jumps to a side only to find a vast ocean. He’s at the harbour front. 

The smell of food, of egg tarts and pineapple buns and meat dumplings along with other Hong Kong delicacies waft through the air, combined with the salty air of the sea. It makes for a strange combination that confuses his senses but works nonetheless. 

He thought he knew a city like Seoul, but this is a true city. This is busy and fast paced like he’s never even seen before. People shove each other aside to catch the bus, dogs are yapping everywhere and he soaks it all in before the thought enters his head.

What the hell is he doing in Hong Kong?

It’s like every time he wonders aloud, you pop up. “I’ve been looking for you.” You say, echoing the words he said to you that day in the streets of Seoul. 

“I was exploring!“ He says defensively, and you roll your eyes. 

“Come on.” You say, walking along the harbour front. 

“You’re not still mad at me, are you?” Namjoon asks, the words spilling out and surprising himself. Are you mad at him? You’ve never been mad at him before, not in the memories he’s seen. He hasn’t ever seen you fight with him, and immediately, he wants to apologise, fix things before he’s pulled back out and he has to live with the guilt and overthinking of whether you’re still mad at him for the next week. 

“Can’t believe you’re mad at me during our vacation.” Namjoon says, and that’s why he’s in Hong Kong, he realises. He’s on vacation. How strange. Namjoon thinks back to when the last time he took a break from work and the only thing he can think of is when that doctor put him on medical leave not too long ago. Oh no, you’re mad at him on holiday?

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” You retort back, and Namjoon has never heard your voice this curt. “Just sit around pretending like everything's okay?”

“What do you want me to do?” Namjoon replies. “You act like this is my fault!” 

“It is your fault!” You cry out indignantly, and Namjoon knows that, but why? What did he do? What did you do? “Is this even a vacation?”

“Yes!” Namjoon cries out again in response, and you shake your head. 

“You promised, Namjoon.” You say like it’s a warning. 

“Yes, I know,” Namjoon says, even though he doesn’t and really, what on earth did he do? “But this is out of my hands! I can’t just say no, you’re not looking at this from my point of view.”

“You’re not looking at this from my point of view!” You argue back, and Namjoon looks around, realising that this squabble is attracting a small crowd of chinese people, gathering around to watch the free entertainment along the sidewalk of Victoria harbour. He awkwardly laughs, raising his hand and bows, a universal sign of apology, grabbing your hand and walking to the other direction. 

“Come on, I’d rather not have the whole city witness our fight.”

“Oh, so this is a fight now?” 

“What? Yes!” Namjoon says exasperatedly. “How else would you classify this argument?” 

Once he makes it to somewhere with at least a sliver of privacy, he turns around with his brows furrowed and a glare etched on his features. Why do you look so angry? Namjoon chastises himself. Just relax, relax, relax. As usual, his body doesn’t listen. 

“Why are you so mad at this?” Namjoon asks, and feels a flow of relief go down his spine. Finally. 

“It’s not just this instance, Joon. I know work is important, but sometimes it feels like you put literally anything else above me! Like last time? You bailed on our date, like, at least twice. You keep saying you can’t say no, but you can. You have that right, Namjoon.” 

Namjoon’s heart softens a little bit. His workaholic tendencies ended up biting him in the ass after all. Sighing he rubs the back of his neck, eyes glued to the floor. “I’m not prioritising work over you, baby.” He tries to explain, and tries to ignore how his heart sinks when your eyes turn stony at the sound of the pet name he often uses to address you. 

“It’s just important to me as well, okay? It’s not my fault my boss heard I was going to Hong Kong and insisted I come to interview some investors about Hong Kong’s economy.” He explains slowly. “It couldn’t take more than a single day to get everything organised and tidied up.” 

“But-!” You huff angrily, spitting out your words. “You don’t understand! You keep doing this, Namjoon. You keep working, working, working. It’s been this way since college. It’s like you’ll die if you just take a break to come talk to me. I even went over to your office to have lunch with you last week and they told me you were in a meeting.” 

“It was important!” Namjoon insists and he can feel things sinking and getting worse and worse with every word he says. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? You can’t expect me to put you in front of all of my responsibilities. I’m sure you have things you can’t give up for me too.”

Hearing that felt like a slap to the face to both you and Namjoon, and he’s screaming at himself internally, why would you say something so, so, stupid?

“Excuse me?” Your broken voice rings out and Namjoon’s accusatory finger falls. 

“Wait.” He mumbles, fumbling with his hands. “Wait, I didn’t mean that. Wait, I-” 

“Fine!” You yell angrily. “You think nothing’s more important than work? You think I haven’t given up anything for you, Kim Namjoon? Because I’d quit and give up anything for you, you asshole.” You bite out, tears desperately trying not to fall. “You fucking asshole.” You say, before turning back around to weave through the crowd. 

“No, wait, baby!” He calls out, and even he knows that he’s messed up. Messed up big time. That was more hurtful than any cuss word or insult he could’ve ever said. “Kim fucking Namjoon, you idiot.” He mumbles to himself. Seeing you cry is more painful than anything else in the world, Namjoon thinks. He’s not ever going to see that sight again if he can help it. 

He walks forward, trying to find you. Maybe you went back to the hotel, or went to look at the sea to clear your head. He thinks he sees the back of your head for a second, and he reaches forward, clutching at air. He’s about to cry, and Namjoon has never seen himself be more pathetic. 

“Oh no, where are you?” He murmurs to himself like a crazed man. What if you were hurt somewhere? He needs to know you’re safe, he needs to know you’re okay, he needs to make everything better. With each step, the lead feeling in his throat grows heavier and heavier until he feels like it’s sunk to his chest. He wants to kneel down, he wants it to stop hurting, but he can’t. 

He must aimlessly follow his shell to do whatever he is doing now. 

The lead feeling continues to grow, and Namjoon feels like he’s suffocating. He’s not supposed to be here, he reminds himself. But he has to find you first, then he can leave. Then he can go, but where are you? He wants to cry, he wants to breathe. 

Namjoon tells himself to gasp for air, but he cannot. He tells himself if this is the last time he ever sees you, he needs to see you smile. He needs to see you laugh. 

Like the pattern in the rest of his meaningless life, an evil deity always pulls him away from the ones he loves when he needs them most. He feels the lead feeling being lifted and pure panic races to Namjoon’s head. He tries to croak out no. He tries to resist, he shoves people aside and calls out your name. But no one answers him, and the cruel deity laughs at his demise. 

He is too weak, too weak to control himself. 

Namjoon is plucked out of the world and transported back to his bedroom with the threads of time slowly ravelling and tangling themselves around his neck, all while he reaches forward, only to grasp at air and pretend in his head that everything’s alright. 

When he reaches his bedroom and wakes up, he stumbles into the bathroom and vomits, all while longing for the warmth of your lips.

-

Walking around dazedly, Namjoon somehow manages to make his way to Seokjin and Jimin’s apartment, knocking and hoarsely asking them to open, open up please. Because he’s not sure he can hold on to another night alone. Jimin opens the door instantly and catches Namjoon in his arms, frantically calling for Seokjin to come fast. 

They lay him on the couch, hearts slowly breaking and trying to convince themselves their friend will be fine as they watch Namjoon whimper in his sleep. 

Namjoon wakes to the smell of breakfast, of bacon on the stove and Jimin chattering around while watering his plants. He gets up, headache pounding and throat sore. Seokjin wordlessly hands him a few pills and a glass of water, while Jimin plates up breakfast, placing the sausage, eggs and toast separately on the plate because Namjoon can’t stand it when food on his plate touches. 

Silently, the three friends eat. Nobody speaks until Namjoon clears his throat and looks up. 

“Thank you.“ He whispers. 

“What are friends for?” Jimin says. 

Namjoon wonders why he’s got such amazing friends. Jin replies that he was born perfect and God created him like this, so Namjoon shouldn’t dwell too much on it. Jimin and Namjoon both throw a spoon of scrambled eggs in his direction simultaneously, high fiving without missing a beat when Jin lets out a protest of unjust behaviour. 

 As the three friends sit quietly, Namjoon says: “I think I’m going mad.”

“I’m glad you’ve realised.” Seokjin replies offhandedly. 

“I don’t think I can keep going between these worlds. I think it’s making me lose my mind.” 

Jimin stills. Seokjin stops washing the dishes and turns off the faucet. 

“Do… do you know how to stop it?” Jimin asks hesitantly. Namjoon shakes his head, and Seokjin sighs, in deep thought, which is a strange and rare sight to see itself. 

“Well, I guess we’ll have to figure this out together.” Seokjin says casually. Jimin agrees and the faucet comes back on, Seokjin going straight back to washing the pan he used to fry up the scrambled eggs. Jimin unplugs the toaster and Namjoon sits, smiling at his beloved friends. 

“You can borrow some of my shirts.” Jimin calls from the bathroom. “You know, if you want to stay over a couple more nights. Feel free.”

“Make yourself at home and shit.” Seokjin mutters, waving his hand around sarcastically. Namjoon almost bursts out into tears of happiness, but he decides to hold it in until Seokjin doesn’t have access to his phone and won’t put Namjoon’s breakdown on instagram live. 

The next day, the entire gang comes over, all with varying degrees of understanding what the hell is going on with Namjoon. For example, Yoongi pretty much knows as much as Seokjin does, who still doesn’t really understand what’s going on. Taehyung was just told Namjoon’s been feeling down because God knows that boy has a big mouth and definitely can’t keep a secret to save his life. 

Seokjin supplies homemade snacks and burgers fresh off the grill, Yoongi brings over his unlimited Netflix and HBO account passwords he probably stole off of some innocent family member to watch Disney movies, Taehyung comes over with Yeontan clutched to his side because that’s the group's emotional support dog. Jungkook and Hoseok offer up their extensive alcohol collection and bring over some quality wines. Jimin, after a long three hours of consideration, gives up his lucky plushies and fluffy blankets to build a fort. 

For one night, the seven boys crowds around the television, watching everything from The Lorax to Tangled to Frozen and bawling their eyes out when Anna turned to ice (spoiler alert!!!) For one night, the fully grown men all turn back into their 8 year old selves, playing video games and staying up as late as they wanted even though they all had responsibilities to tend to the next day. 

When they all awake from their mega-sleepover the next morning, the remaining six friends all insist they just felt like watching Disney movies and drinking wine suddenly. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that Namjoon’s been feeling a little off in the past few days. 

Absolutely not. 

Namjoon’s eyes brim with tears and he tackles all the boys to the ground in one incredibly coordinated group hug, ignoring Yoongi’s complaints of being anti-social and that his love language is not physical touch. 

“Thanks, guys.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jungkook mutters. “Now could you please get the fuck off?” 

“Never.” Namjoon says, muffled because he says it while his head is buried in Hoseok’s chest. 

“Love you.”

“... Love you too.” 

The next time he falls, Namjoon thinks he’s prepared. Ready, not to get attached, ready to make clear of what belongs in his world and what doesn’t, after lots of pep talks and therapy sessions with Seokjin and Jimin and Yoongi, who is surprisingly helpful with shooting down ideals of toxic masculinity and talking about mental health. 

He’s wrong- he’s not ready, but he doesn’t know that yet. 

Click. 

He’s come to resent that stupid sound. In an instant, he’s dropped into a car, which is strangely familiar. You are next to him, driving, and thank goodness, because everyone knows Namjoon cannot drive. If he were dropped in the driver’s seat, things may have taken a turn for the worse. 

“You want to play some music?” You ask, and Namjoon nods. 

“Yeah sure, turn up the radio.” You reach over to flip a switch and a pretty tune fills the car, echoing and bouncing off the walls of the small vessel. You bring your hand down and interlace it with Namjoon’s, who is suddenly hyper aware of his surroundings. 

“You’re driving, baby.” He says, and a great sense of relief floods back into his system when he sees you smile at the pet name. He hopes this moment is after the Hong Kong trip. He hopes he did the right thing and made up with you afterwards. 

“We always do this. When there’s not many cars around, anyway.” You hum along with the music. “Nobody’s on the road tonight.” Sure enough, there are no cars in sight and Namjoon sighs, curling his hand tight against yours. He looks out the window. 

“No stars tonight, either.” 

You snort. “There are never any stars around the city, babe.”

“Ahh.” He huffs playfully. “Fuck global warming.”

“Fuck capatalism.” You add on, and he nods, wholeheartedly agreeing. 

“I love you.” He murmurs. 

“I love you too.” You reply with a sweet smile and Namjoon just realises that no, he’s not ready to let go of you, because his heart still flips like crazy when he hears you say that. He’s so unbearably, horribly, absolutely in love with you. Not in a creepy or obsessive way like he was probably in love with you a few months ago, but so in love with you. 

He wonders why on earth he’s so drawn to you, but as usual, there’s no definite answers to his questions. Namjoon thinks about how he likes the way you cook pancakes, and how he likes the way you always reach down to pet a puppy no matter where you are or where you need to be. He loves the way you’d give up anything to defend the people you love. He admires your bravery and your courage. He admires the way you present yourself to the world. 

He loves you simply because you are who you are, unapologetically and unashamed, which is something he never had the guts to do. But he gets pretty damn near to being fully and truly himself when he’s around you, so maybe that’s why he’s so in love with you. 

Namjoon feels bad for a moment because he realises his love isn’t selfless or humble like the ones he sees on dramas and TV. His love for you is shamefully selfish, because he needs you more than anything else. He voices this out to you in a long speech while you keep your eyes on the road. 

“I need you more than you think I do, Joon.” You say, while laughing, and Namjoon doesn’t know whether to feel offended or relieved. 

“You think your love for me can trump my love for you?” He asks with his eyebrows raised.

“One hundred percent.” You drawl out, and this time, Namjoon’s offended. 

“Excuse me? Who the fuck?” He asks, sitting up. You laugh bashfully, enamoured but mostly just entertained by your needy boyfriend who is very willing to prove how much more he loves you right now. “I love you way more than you love me!” 

You laugh, your eyes still fixed on the road. “Oh no, please, we’re not arguing about this.”

“Yes we are!” Namjoon demands with a huge smile on his face. “How could you possibly think you love me more than I love you?” Your laugh only grows louder. 

“I don’t even know if you’re being serious or just joking around anymore.” You say through bit back laughter. 

“I’m being dead serious.” Namjoon softens for a bit, laying a hand on your thigh. “You’re my everything. You’re my future, you’re my present, you’re my past.” A part of you wants to tell him he’s being cheesy again, but the romantic in you who doesn’t want to hurt your boyfriend immediately shuts the realist in you up. 

“That was sweet.”

“I try my best.”

You turn your head back to the road and he keeps his eyes on you. On the hoodie you’re wearing, which definitely doesn’t belong to you and he now has a certain inkling of where his missing hoodie went. He likes how it swallows you up. He likes that you have something of his on you. 

Not as a weird mark of possession, but he likes that you’re comfortable with wearing something that essentially brands you as his. But you are his as much as he is yours and wow, Namjoon thinks in his head, is this the real Namjoon or the past Namjoon speaking? And his brain replies that it’s both. 

“I love you.” He repeats, because as much as he seems to say it, he can’t seem to express how much he loves you (hint: it’s a large amount). 

“I love you too.” You say right back. 

He wants to say it more. He wants to say it better. He wants to repeat it until you get annoyed and tell him to shut up, he wants to let you know how much he loves you. But his lips are sealed, and he can’t say another word. Instead of what he wants to say, the words that come out his mouth are, admittedly, just as true. 

“You’re pretty.” 

You giggle. “Did you just realise?” 

Namjoon shakes his head. “You’ve always been pretty. You were pretty on the day we met. You were pretty the day we fought in Hong Kong. You were pretty the first time you stayed over. You’re pretty when you cry, you’re pretty when you… I wanted to think of something that rhymes with cry, but it slipped my mind and now everything’s ruined.” 

You laugh, a real, huge one this time. He can always tell when your laugh is real or not. 

“Thank you.” You say. “For the record, you’ve always been pretty too.” 

Namjoon leans back into his seat. “Damn straight.” 

“When d’you think you first fell in love with me?” You ask, genuinely curious, and Namjoon thinks for a moment. He thinks about what the Namjoon in this moment would say, and he thinks about what the present Namjoon would say. 

If he had verbal control, what would he say? That he fell in love with you during the very first memory he was thrusted in? But that wouldn’t be true, and that wouldn’t be honest. He fell in love with you during the memory of when you met? But that wouldn’t be true either. He fell in love with you in between memories, when all he could think about was the next time you could be in his arms, or how much he longed for your touch. 

He tries to say that, he really does. 

Instead, what comes out of his mouth is: 

“I don’t know. I don’t know if there’s a specific moment. Maybe it was that time we went to the movies and watched Coco while crying over popcorn, or maybe it was that time we went to Disneyland.” Namjoon’s heart slouches, because he doesn’t know any of those moments. He hasn’t been in any of those memories. 

“But I don’t think falling in love is a one moment, time stops kinda thing. I was always falling in love with you. From the time you spilled yogurt on my jacket to right now, where you’re asking me when I fell in love with you. I’m going to be falling in love with you tomorrow and the day after that, until the day where we shrivel up and die from old age.”

Oh, good answer, Namjoon thinks. 

“Good answer.” You say. “I think I’d say the same thing.” 

“Great minds think alike.” Namjoon sighs out. 

Something strikes Namjoon’s heart. It’s not the lead feeling or the heavy weight he’s grown used to. It’s strange, like a wave of deja vu. And suddenly, Namjoon stops thinking. He glances over to the control board to look at the time, which proudly reads: December 3rd, 2018. 

So that’s why he’s always had the feeling that these were memories. Why he was so adamant to believe these things really had happened to him. Even more strangely, what feelings strike him then is not panic, nor fear. It’s a strange flow of calmness that rushes through his veins. He looks over at you again, driving now with both hands on the steering wheel. 

He wonders why the deity would make him witness something as cruel and horrible as this, and he gets the weird feeling that this will be one of his last memories to enter. Namjoon looks at the dark blanket covering the sky and sadly thinks that the deity could have at least placed a few stars in the sky on this night. As consolation, or perhaps an apology. 

Something is ticking in the background, and Namjoon has no idea if it’s coming from the car or if he’s imagining it. Flashing memories go through his mind, so fast he can barely register them as images or moving pictures before they are gone again. Your smile, your laugh, your first date, your second date. The day he asked you to move in, the day you told him ‘I love you’ for the first time and he literally fainted. 

The day he came to pick you up from work for the first time, the night where he first laid his hands on you and kissed all your worries away. 

It comes fast and hurtles towards the two of you, but Namjoon doesn’t even see it coming because all he is looking at is you. Your face, your lips, your eyes, trying to engrave it all in his memory. You yelp out something to him, which he doesn’t hear. Floating images spin around both your heads and a high pitched screech rings out, a spark of orange lighting up like a stack of fireworks. The dark van shoots forward and collides into the driver’s seat. 

The world collapses. It goes sideways, rotates then flips completely upside down, and the dark fog starts to eat up Namjoon’s eyesight. Oddly, nothing hurts. Perhaps because of the shock, or panic, but nothing on Namjoon’s body is in pain. Everything crashes, Namjoon’s head hits the window with force. Something breaks, glass cracks, people scream and he cannot tell which is which. Red and white flashes are all he can see before everything fades to grey and he can only reach around in the darkness, to find your hand. 

He clutches onto your unmoving, still hand desperately, trying to calm his jumping heartbeat. Are those sirens in the background he hears or is that his imagination? Is that your voice he hears or is that a hallucination? 

In the end, his final thought before leaving the world once again is a wish. A wish that he prays the deity will grant him. He hopes that in your final moments, you were not scared. 

He falls. 

When Namjoon arrives home, his entire body is numb. He doesn’t know where he is, nor what he was doing before he was clicked in. He opens his mouth and screams for a full minute without stopping. 

It feels good in a fucked up way. 

Namjoon has never been one for confrontation. Just ask his middle school bullies, who tormented him all they wanted because he wouldn’t do anything but put up with it. Just ask Mingyu from work, who keeps piling his unwanted projects and articles onto Namjoon because he never protests or complains to the higher-ups. 

But while walking towards his childhood home with the birds chirping and his hands placed casually in his pockets, confrontation is all he can think about. He lets himself in the door; his mother never locks it and walks in calmly. 

His mother is sitting on the couch, stitching up a sock which has a hole in it. 

“Mom. I’m home.” He says softly, and his mother greets him normally. Namjoon leans on the wall and his mother stares at him strangely, calling him over to sit and have some fruit. He declines, telling her he won’t be staying very long. “That car crash that happened two years ago.”

The needle in his mother’s hand stills. 

“They said I had selective amnesia, right?” 

The needle picks up speed, stitching faster and faster, his mother’s hand moving faster than light. 

“What did I forget again?” 

“What did you remember?” His mother asks, never one to beat around the bush. 

“Mom.” He says, firmly this time. “What did you do to me.”

The sock is torn apart in his mother’s hands. “Namjoon,” She starts and Namjoon already has a growing urge to shake the truth out of her. “When you got into that crash two years ago, you came out of it with very little injuries. We were all so relieved. When you woke up, you didn’t remember Y/N.” All that fills the air for another moment or two is the spongy sound of silence. 

The gap in this family became clearer than ever to Namjoon. He thinks about how everyone must have been in on the secret, even his sister. And he was left to suffer, wondering why his life seemed so empty after forgetting something he couldn’t clutch onto. 

“And what?” He demands, screaming and throwing his hands out of his pockets. “Do you think you can just keep something like that from me? The love of my life, and you just decide to erase them from my memory?” His mother stills and looks up at her son. 

“You didn’t remember Y/N. You lost contact with all your college friends, and then when I asked the doctor how selective amnesia worked,” His mother cleared her throat. “Sufferers often forget some parts of their memory. Relationships, talents, skills, certain areas or certain people.” His mother looks up directly in his eyes. “Sometimes, especially after going through a traumatic event, people forget certain parts of their memory as a coping mechanism. To erase bits of pain and regret.”

“I thought,” Her voice breaks and her face twists in regret and bad memories. “I thought maybe by forgetting her, I’d be saving you from more pain and hurt. I just wanted you to stop hurting”

Namjoon held eye contact with his mother for three full seconds before collapsing and gasping for air, lying with his head on her lap. All words of scolding, anger. All the confrontational tactics and all the accusations he’d thought of shooting towards her had gone. 

“Hurts.” He let out through large gasps of breaths. “Hurts, mom.” He lied there, with tears threatening to spill out his eyes for the rest of the night, with his mother caressing his hair and apologising to him with tears in her eyes. 

“Miss Y/N. I miss Y/N.” He hiccups out, and his mother wipes away his tears, but it feels different from when you used to do it. 

“I know, I know.” The woman looking down at her son wonders why she put him in so much pain. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” The night carries on like that, with the lights eventually dimming and the night covers up the light in the sky. The mother son pair repeat their grievances and apologies to each other until the sun comes back up, peeking through the curtains and extending out their warm embrace as if it wants to comfort the hurting humans. 

It doesn’t take long for Seokjin and co to come knocking on his door, sent by his mother who must have filled him in on everything, judging from the looks on their faces. It only takes one single glance at his friends, tilting their heads and all asking to come in for him to burst into tears. Ugly crying, with snot coming out of his nose and eyes bloodshot red from the nightmares. 

Jimin is the first to reach forwards and bring Namjoon into a hug. Soon after that, the six friends surrounded Namjoon, comforting him with the warmth of their arms and soft spoken words of encouragement. 

“You did well.” Someone mumbles into his hair. 

“We’re all proud of you.” Someone else says. 

Namjoon’s sweater sleeves are sopping wet with tears when he asks the boys to help him get into therapy. 

Things went on like that for another while. 

Therapy isn’t as bad as Namjoon had thought it might’ve been. He wasn’t forced to be vulnerable or open up or confront his worst fears. He certainly didn’t want to tell the truth about the world he’s thrusted in, for fear of getting thrown out of the building and into a mental institution. 

Even his mother didn’t believe him the first time he told her about it. She urged him to visit a doctor. How could a therapist who doesn’t even know him believe the nonsense he spouts? Even he himself wouldn’t believe himself if he hadn’t experienced it firsthand. Slowly, but surely, he began to open up, and to his surprise, there was no calling of hospitals or kicking him out. His therapist sat there and listened like everything he was saying was valid. 

He started eating again, mostly because of Seokjin, stuffing his creations down everyone’s throats every two seconds, claiming he needs opinions on his new recipes even though Namjoon’s fairly certain that the past three dishes of spaghetti were the exact same recipe. 

Namjoon started to workout again with Jungkook, much to the younger boy’s surprise and happiness. They talked about their own struggles while panting on the treadmill and spinner. Jungkook eventually tells him that he also has a secret he keeps from the rest of the guys, which is his high school sweetheart who broke his heart so horribly that he still feels hurt from it. 

Jungkook told him to cheer up though, because most of the pain fades away with time. It’s still there, ever as present, but other things will become more important to you and cover up a scar or a wound with blooming flowers. 

“Like us,” He said cheekily. “Your friends.” 

He talked to Yoongi most days of the week about nothing in particular. He enjoys the time with Yoongi because he’s the only one who never walks on eggshells around him. He still pelts him with pillows and roasts the outfits on Rupaul’s Drag Race with him. Taehyung and Jimin even helped him adopt a dog, an furry white Eskimo named Rap Mon which is literally now Namjoon’s entire life. 

Would likely kill all of his friends if one of them hurt his precious baby. 

Life is good, Namjoon learns. He gets better at his job. He never forgets you, but things seem to hurt less. But he gets relapses sometimes. Some days he wakes up screaming about the stupid lead filling up his throat. Sometimes he gets nightmares so intense he has to take medicine.

Therapy isn’t as bad as he painted it out to be, but recovery is ten times harder than he thought it would be. Some days all he can do is lie in bed or do nothing, thinking of you. 

His therapist tells him that his life is more than his past memories. Both Yoongi and Hoseok agree, when he pulled up a random conversation about it late at night. Hoseok says that there’s never going to be a time where he won’t think of you, or still love you. Perhaps not as much as he once did, but he’ll never forget about you. Yoongi tells him he’s healing, and that they’re all proud of him.

Namjoon meets his friends, for the first time in the two years he’s known them. Taehyung has an extraordinary and (slightly strange) obsession over art museums. He’s been to almost every single one in Korea, and he dragged Namjoon over to one an hour away in Gangnam in the summer. Jimin is an amazing dancer, which Namjoon never knew.

Until Jimin brought it up casually, looking through old footage of his dance competitions. “Nothing big,” He said. “I used to dabble.” Namjoon’s eyes bulged out of his head and he told Jimin if that was ‘dabbling’, then he was wasting away his talent. He asked Jimin why he never made a career out of dance, and Jimin replied casually:

“I feel like if I start to make money off of it, and I’ll lose my love for it. Now that I haven’t really has time for it... I dunno. I feel like I’ve lost the talent a little bit.“

Namjoon told his friend that talent is nothing but a bunch of practice and time dedicated to a certain skill. Nobody loses talent, people just get a little unfamiliar with it. Jimin turned around in deep thought and told him he may just have a point. 

Still, some days, he can do nothing but sulk around, feeling like a waste of space. Take today for an example. He walks down the street and out of the corner of his eye, he thinks, and he might be wrong, he thinks he sees you. The back of your head, anyways, but you’re wearing a red sweater with headphones over your ears and you turn around the corner. 

Namjoon panics. He drops his coffee, which splashes all over his leather shoes and runs. He runs past the corner and he doesn’t know what on earth he’s doing but all he can do is run, and the wind dries his tears faster and faster, and he forgets all over again, that you aren’t here, that there’s no way he can go back and see you unless it’s in his memories, which he doesn’t even know how to control. 

Somewhere deep in the depths of his mind, he knows something about this doesn’t seem right. That it couldn’t possibly be you, because he watched you go right in front of his eyes. He knows that in order to heal, he can’t chase after you or center his world around you. He knows all of that. But in that moment, he forgets that he still doesn’t remember everything about you. 

He forgets that you’re dead. 

And one day he’ll be free from this constant spinning. One day he won’t ever have to think twice when he cooks pancakes but that day and all that work he’s put in is the last thing on Namjoon’s mind and all he can think about is if that’s really you. 

He sprints faster and reaches out, misses your wrist by an inch and ends up clutching at nothing but air. He heaves a huge breath, about to clap his hand over your shoulder-

Click. 

tags; @jksbbyfacebunny @extremeobsessions101 @dwcljh @bishuthot @s0seo @stonyiscanon @cecedrake2217​ 

[rev-plays-nikki]

Alright here we go 🙃

I am extremely disappointed with the announcement of Heaven’s Favor, or Blessed Land, as it’s been officially named on this Nikki server, as our anniversary hell event. As many others have said, this hell event is beautiful, and I love the suits (although it is disappointing that none have dark skin tones and devs of our Nikki game and devs of the the Chinese server have not thought to add them after the fact), but for an anniversary of the game which many including myself feel is supposed to be the biggest celebration of the year, I was expecting a much larger and more expensive event, such as True Road or Four Gods.

I would have been thrilled with either of those events in truth, though as someone who loves Four Gods and has been wanting it for the last 3 and a half years, I was desperately hoping you would finally bring it to us. I was prepared to spend at least $300 and most likely more on diamonds, lucky bags, and other things, simply to show my support for the devs finally giving players what we have been asking for. The grandeur and expense of this event is puny compared with the other two options we could have been given. People complain sometimes when we get expensive events, yes, but usually that is a result of too many expensive events in a row. That issue does not exist this time, and the player base as a whole does want an occasional very expensive event, especially for an occasion as exciting and celebratory as the game’s anniversary. There will of course always be a few who complain no matter what, but in this case, players including myself are frustrated, angry, and tired of how we are treated by our server’s devs. This event announcement is yet another in a long line of things that have made it clear the only thing or server cares about is money grabbing.

Though this announcement has made me finally decide to stop spending on Love Nikki, it has not been the only thing I’ve been unhappy about. It has simply been ‘the straw that broke the camel’s back’ as they say. Our server’s devs have also made it clear they don’t care if we get the story in a way that makes sense either. We get the actual story chapters in order, and for the most part in a timely manner, yes, but there is a lot of the story and lore tidbits in other things like events (hell event as well as regular ones) and Dreamweaver stories. We do not get these in chronological order, which makes it confusing for everyone. I have to assume that our devs think we don’t care about the story, which I do think is largely true based on how many people tap through the story stages, but many of us still DO care about the story, so ignoring it and giving no thought to the order in which we receive story based events and Dreamweavers (both long-term “free” ones and ones that cost diamonds) is, frankly, a huge middle finger to that part of the player base.

The recharge lineup for this event is also extremely disappointing to say the least. And this can’t possibly be a surprise after the reaction from players when frost rose was brought back a while ago. We do NOT expect, and certainly do not WANT, return recharges for a hell event. Especially not for the hell event that is supposed to be our big anniversary celebration. Many were prepared to spend big for our anniversary, and now we will be spending nothing. This is yet another in a long history is giving us subpar recharge lineups that are either too expensive for a comparatively mediocre suit or contain too many expensive returning recharges for the same amount of money (or in a couple of instances, more, if someone had purchased parts of the suit in its original run and had to purchase the same again to complete it.) Personally I have purchased every recharge that became available since shortly after I started playing and have well surpassed V15 levels of spending, but I will be skipping these.

It is also shocking, as I noticed recently, that if a player does not claim their daily diamonds one day, the next day the number of daily diamonds left decreases regardless. This means if a player pays for a monthly recharge card, but cannot log in for one or more than one day for that amount of time, they simply lose some of the diamonds they paid for. While it is a “monthly” card, it promises a certain number of diamonds. It would deliver that number no matter what. Other games have systems in place to account for this. For instance, Time Princess, another dress up game, simply allows the player to collect their diamonds for whatever number of days they have not logged in. It works great and everyone stays happy and gets what they paid for. Maybe a similar system is not in place in Love Nikki and that’s fine. There are other ways to make sure people get what they paid for. The diamonds someone didn’t claim could be mailed to them for example, or daily diamonds could be made a permanent event like the daily login reward, and players could claim diamonds once a day as they choose. Another annoyance to players is that the permanent diamond pavilions still do not have a “confirm” pop up asking if players are sure they want to spend up to 1500 diamonds. This seems like such an easy fix and something players have wanted and asked for for some time.

Recharge suits should also come back for crafting. It seems as things have been going for the last four years that none come back for a long time, players complain about it and threaten to boycott, and a short time after, one relatively inexpensive suit will return in an attempt to satisfy players. Players then think this means recharge suits will return regularly, and are appeased for some time until the whole process repeats itself. This is very frustrating and tiresome. Every paid suit should ideally return for crafting, but my guess is that none of the highly expensive ones ever will. That is very sad to me, as I truly believe that every suit should eventually be made available to every player. I believe the same for the ranked suits, all of which I have, as well. It would be great if they came back but I understand for them why they will not far more than for recharge suits. As a paying player, the way I see it when I buy any suit is that I am paying to get it early, not that I am paying to get it at all. And I am more than happy to pay for that, and thrilled to know that every player will have the chance to get it eventually. I’m sure there are other paying players who don’t share my views, so I understand why devs are hesitant to bring back super expensive suits, but I do think they should return. Not only because on other servers recharge suits return for crafting far more frequently than on ours, but also because as time goes on the suits end up looking older and older and as such their value to players should decrease. The price of suits should go down when they return, not stay the same, and eventually every suit should be obtainable for any player.

Now, back to this hell event again, and more specifically Four Gods, because I’m selfish and I want it. Four Gods has been around for years. Those of us who have known about it from its original run on the original Chinese server have been expecting it to come to us ever since. Lore-wise, as I understand it, it was sort of an introduction to the main four Cloud families and their heads who feature prominently in some event and Dreamweaver stories, though not so much the main story yet. The event was sort of a prequel to Four Wars, and on the Chinese server Four Gods came first. I remember when we got the announcement for Four Wars for our server, and my utter shock. No one had expected or really been asking much for this hell and there were so many other, older events that would have made more sense to us at the time. This I think was the first truly egregious breach of lore order, at least that I can recall and that was so important to the story. When we got Four Wars most players had no idea who these characters were, so how were they supposed to care about them or the story? I think a large part of why many players don’t care about the story can be attributed to the devs not caring about it for us. If we were given events and story parts in chronological order so that it made sense, it would be much easier to follow and perhaps players wouldn’t give up on it so easily.

Since then however, years have passed and we still have not received Four Gods, or even been given the courtesy of being told why we haven’t gotten it. It hasn’t even been mentioned to us by our devs. Now there are rumors floating around the Love Nikki community about it that I think do no one any favors. There is the (I suspect true) rumor that the devs have for a long time intended to never give us this event. There is a rumor that there is some issue with converting the files from an older event to our newer server. There is a rumor that the reason we have not gotten Four Gods is that the devs do not want to give players the opportunity to get the 3000 free diamonds that originally came with the event. There are these and many other rumors, all of which highlight I think the most important issue with regards to our server, and that is communication.

Our server’s devs have always been, quite frankly, horrible at communicating with their player base. We get event announcements and teasers and all and that’s fine, those things are fun and exciting, but when it comes to larger issues in the game, like as an example darker skin tones and makeups that match them, and what the team is doing about it, we receive little to nothing. With this specific issue, and it’s not the only one, it seems players complain and complain and threaten to boycott as I’ve mentioned earlier, and the team eventually gives us the promise that they are working on it. These promises usually come far later than they should. And communication should be more than just promises once the team has finally decided to promise it. Communication should include the in-between phases. For instance, using this example, respond to players more quickly and tell us what the team is considering. We don’t always need promises, especially when the team can’t deliver what is wanted in a timely manner. We want to know what is going on. If the team is discussing something before deciding, let us know! It’s ok if nothing has been decided yet. We want to know what is going on, and if we know, we can give feedback and help the team in its discussions.

The game Time Princess again does this well. They offer frequent surveys that players can access the link to in-game, and they have almost weekly live chats in their Discord server where they answer questions, give hints and teasers about future events, give out extra redeem codes, and have players play fun trivia games with them regarding the game’s stories. If Love Nikki’s devs did something similar, it would greatly increase fan engagement with the game and the story, and show that our devs do care about us and what we want. After being more transparent with the community, and letting us know what’s going on, better decisions can be made, and better plans can be formed, instead of the team telling us nothing and letting us wonder and spread usually baseless rumors until we are given a promise. Even the promises are not always adequate either. With the dark skin tone makeups again, we were promised the team was working on it. And yes, we have received more dark skin makeups since, and that’s great, but it seems like we haven’t received that many recently, and when they come they are usually recipes that cost diamonds, and we only get a few makeups matching a few skin tones rather than one makeup for each.

My concern is that something similar will happen this time as well, and the team may well decide to continue not bringing us Four Gods without telling us a word about it or about why they have made such a decision. Supposedly now the team is talking about possibly bringing us Four Gods, but how do I know that? From the devs being open about their process and transparent with players about their plans and thinking? No, of course not. I know this because someone “close to Nikki'' told this to a well known player whom the rest of us know and trust as largely the only player who really knows what’s going on with the devs. And I doubt she even really does, but based on how little communication we get from the devs, it seems that way to the rest of us. And I of course do not mean this in any way to bash or throw negativity at Iri, I love her and she’s a wonderful person and member of our community! But it is a problem with our devs when someone telling one player something is the only way we can get some shred of an answer to our questions and desires.

Now, because I don’t want to be all negative and I don’t want to complain without offering solutions, here is a bullet point form list of things that could be changed in the game to greatly improve it and the players’ relationship with our devs. :)

- First and most importantly: communicate with players! Tell us what is going on with the team. Ask for feedback more often about more things than which door styles we prefer. Involve us in discussions! Transparency is paramount for any brand these days.

- Give us better “free” things. The Chinese server famously gets more free things like login rewards after server maintenance, etc.

- Add another recharge tier. The Chinese server has one more recharge tier than us ifI recall correctly, as well as their highest tier being more diamonds for less money. if that’s not possible for whatever reason, let us know and let us know why! And then make things less expensive. If that’s also impossible, give us better rewards. If that’s also impossible, at least let us know.

- Let people claim their daily dias even if they miss a day. Suggestions for this are already above in what I wrote.

- Add an “are you sure you want to do this?” button to all diamond pavs. Maybe with a checkmark for “don’t ask me again on this account.”

- Make sure darker skin tones and makeups come back in a timely manner. Maybe make a schedule for it and share that with players. Explain why it takes so long. Work on bringing poses for darker skin tones as well. If that’s not possible, explain to us why in detail.

- Give us four gods. Please and thank you. :) I promise plenty of us want it. If you can’t or won’t, tell us that, and tell us why. If you can’t tell us why due to a non disclosure agreement or something similar, tell us you aren’t able to tell us why. Whatever communication you can give us is far better than none.

I love and care about this game deeply. It has been a very important part of my gaming life through the past four years. I would not have bothered writing any of this if that weren’t true. I truly and genuinely hope that things change and get better in the future, but until then I will not be quitting, but I also will not be spending nearly as much time or money on it as I have in the past, which makes me sad. I wish everyone the best and I hope our devs will listen and improve their communication at the very least. Thank you.

[shinydelirium]

MLQC Season 2 Chapter 21 (Kiro) Part 1 [Gold Card] & [Subtle Changes] Translation [CN]

***SPOILERS*** THIS POST CONTAINS HEAVY SPOILERS FOR CONTENT NOT YET RELEASED ON EN SERVER!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!***

Chapter 21 is relatively short so there won’t be as many parts as I will be combining multiple sections. 

Without further ado, enjoy reading!

[Gold Card]

I sat up on the bed in a daze and stared at the cardboard boxes piled up on the ground.

The sunlight fell on them, making the dust in the air visible.

Two days have passed since I moved here. Apart from tidying up the bed and taking out some basic necessities, the rest of the belongings are still in the same state as I left them after I moved.

I couldn’t help taking a deep breath, trying to get that indifferent face out of my mind.

MC: MC, get yourself together. You still have a lot to do.

Endless fatigue wrapped me in its silent vortex. I struggled hard to prevent myself from being swallowed by those negative black mists.

I splashed cold water on my cheeks, turning my head constantly, thinking about the message Zehn left me during my absence.

Zehn: “Boss, you asked me to investigate the Evolver who was taken away from the Wish Club, but I haven’t found anything for the time being.”

Zehn: “However, I found a place called Wish Hotel.”

Zehn: “It also has financial support from the charity foundation. I don’t know if there will be any connections.”

I wiped my face clean with a towel and walked out of the bathroom. I took out the card I received at the Wish Club from my backpack and later returned by Lucien—

“Wish Hotel”—dedicated to only serving Evolvers.

There is probably no such coincidence in the world.

My eyes wandered to the phone number at the bottom right, and after giving it some thought, I grabbed my bag and walked out the door.

The feeling of autumn is getting stronger and the cool wind blows over me making me tighten the hem of my clothes.

These few days I’ve been constantly thinking.

The world seems to be swept by a torrent. Anything at this moment has the possibility of being magnified. It may be the fuse that makes the world move into a different future.

And I’m so small and insignificant in comparison.

What I see and what I believe seems to be particularly vague as the world moves forward.

But I always believed that this new journey and the memories I carry has a purpose.

“Remember to get back what you lost.”

That strange and distant voice still echoes in my ears from time to time.

If CORE is the key to this world, then I must find it.

In this search and competition about CORE, I must learn more.

I walked into an unmanned telephone booth, inserted some coins, and dialed the number on the card.

Electronic voice: Hello, thank you for calling Wish Hotel.

MC: ….Hello, I want to check in.

Electronic voice: Thanks for calling, bye.

Hearing the beep from the receiver, I was stunned.

I dialed again and the result is still the same.

MC: It said “thank you for calling Wish Hotel” so it should be correct…

I looked front and back of the small card in my hand, searching for important information points that I had overlooked.

Except for the name, number, and the slogan “Only for Evolvers”, there is no other information on the card.

MC: Is there a hidden secret code that needs a kind of UV light to see it?

I held up the card against the light but still unable to see anything. I couldn’t help but frown at the slogan.

MC: Maybe it needs special keywords?

Thinking about this, I tentatively dialed the number again.

Electronic voice: Hello, thank you for calling Wish Hotel.

MC: I’m an Evolver and I want to check in!

After the dead silence, I heard a “beep” along with faint white noise—

Electronic voice: Wish Hotel will serve you wholeheartedly.

Success!

Electronic voice: Dear guest, hello.

Electronic voice: Please press 1 for “Wish Hotel”, press 2 for related services, press 3 for check-in, or press 0 for manual service.

***If you choose 1***

Electronic voice: Wish Hotel is a high-end hotel dedicated to Evolvers.

Electronic voice: Here, you can not only enjoy our service in peace, but also store Evol for free.

Electronic voice: Whether you want to try an unprecedented experience or relive the life of ordinary people, we will do our best to serve you.

***If you choose 2***

Electronic voice: Free storage of Evol is the most distinctive service of Wish Hotel.

Electronic voice: This service has no side effects. It is safe, fast, and effective.

Electronic voice: There is no limit for storage time.

Electronic voice: You are always welcome to experience it.

***If you choose 3***

Electronic voice: Please provide your name and contact address after the “di” sound and we will arrange a special car for pick-up.

Taking into account the necessary identification for the hotel to stay-in and on the premise that a perfect fake identity cannot be forged in a short time, I reported my name in order to avoid drawing suspicion.

Then I looked at the street sign at the road junction and said the name of the street.

Electronic voice: The information has been entered.

Electronic voice: Dear [MC], we will send a special car to arrive at [Fortune. Fu-Lu-2-2-2] in 30 minutes. We will contact you by phone at that time.

Electronic voice: Thank you for your call. Wish Hotel will serve you wholeheartedly.

Thirty minutes later, a black luxury car smoothly drove up in my peripheral vision.

The back seat door stopped precisely in front of me and slowly opened. At the same time, I heard a faint “dripping” sound.

??: Greetings, Miss MC.

I followed the sound. The driver’s seat was completely blocked off and the driver’s appearance was not visible.

I took a deep breath, got into the car, and found an inconspicuous instrument hidden in the corner facing the car door.

It looks exactly like a camera and seemed very familiar—

It’s almost exactly the same as the Evol detector I got from the black fan who exposed Kiro’s Evolver identity and framed him for hurting others.

My heart tightened and I looked carefully towards the driver’s seat.

It’s not surprising that there are detectors here. After all, they claim to be only for Evolvers.

But what does this extremely similar device doing here mean?

The car was very quiet and I looked out through the car window.

Perhaps this Wish Hotel can bring me more information than I imagined.

I don’t know how long it took. The car drove into a garden-like iron gate.

Along the flowery path, through the secret and prosperous bushes, a small and exquisite dark wood building gradually appeared in front of me.

After the car came to a slow stop, I walked towards the gate.

The wind chime on the door rang and someone happened to walk out carrying a suitcase and passed right by me.

The person didn’t seem like anyone special and I was shocked by the scene in front of me as I stepped through the door—

The hotel is much bigger than it looks on the surface and the ceiling is indiscernible. I could estimate it to be at least twenty or thirty stories high.

MC: Did this building look that high from the outside…?

As I mumbled, I looked around. Guests in twos and threes were sitting in the lobby just like in an ordinary hotel lobby.

The waiter on the side came over and greeted me.

Waiter: Hello, please come with me to check-in.

The check-in procedure is simpler than expected. After filling in the basic information, I got my room key.

Waiter: The fifth floor is the restaurant, the 16th floor is the fitness area, and the 18th floor is the beverage bar.

Waiter: The top floor of the 23rd floor is the office area which is not open to the public. There are no restrictions for the rest of the public areas so you can go freely according to your needs.

After nodding and thanking him, I walked into the elevator and looked at the 23rd floor in deep thought.

Acting now would be a bit conspicuous so I’ll wait till nightfall.

The room is no different from any other hotel room. I walked around in the public area again. Apart from confirming that it’s a very luxurious hotel, I didn’t gain anything new.

MC: Is this really an ordinary hotel…?

In doubt, the sky finally ushered in the night.

Taking advantage of the shift time, I walked from the fire exit to the 23rd floor and gently opened the door.

The corridor was dim and there was no sign of movement.

I lowered my body and as I was about to step forward, a fierce force grabbed my waist.

Almost instinctively, I took out the anesthesia gun and lifted my leg backwards to kick—

Only that person is more powerful and faster than me.

His hand went around my neck and bound my wrists tightly. His right leg lifted slightly. He quickly and dexterously pinned my legs. His warm breath brushed over my ears.

??: Stop messing around.

[Subtle Changes]

The voice is very soft and close to my ear like the faint moonlight in the night.

My movements are frozen in place. I felt the temperature near my back slowly seeping through the placket of my clothes.

Only quiet breathing remained in the air.

Meanwhile, two or three waiters walked into the room at the end of the corridor.

??: There is nothing you want here.

??: Follow me.

With that said, the hand that was holding me slowly loosened, but in the next second, he took my hand and walked towards the door of a warehouse.

Although I was puzzled, I still followed behind that dark figure without question.

He seemed to be familiar with the place as if he had been here for a long time.

We entered the equipment room from the back door of the warehouse and from the side door of the equipment room to the garbage sorting office in the corridor, he pressed the freight elevator button on the side.

The waiting time is long and quiet. I lowered my head subtly and secretly looked at our held palms.

We haven’t seen each other since we separated on the bridge last time.

Except for the “I’m safe, don’t worry” message from a strange phone number, I didn’t receive any news about him.

I faintly felt that it was probably from Helios, but I still couldn’t dial his number.

So I had to wipe away the worries in my heart, silently thinking about our agreement.

He promised me that he would come back safely so he would definitely be able to do it.

Only when I saw him again, my heart still surged uncontrollably.

He didn’t seem to be injured.

Following the position of my hand, my gaze secretly moved upwards until I met a gaze that seemed to have been waiting for me there.

In the dim light, Helios’ eyes were bright.

I didn’t know what to say for a while. Too many words stuck in my throat making me subconsciously want to rub my fingertips but I squeezed his hand tightly.

Helios pursed the corners of his lips. His eyes dimmed.

The elevator door opened slowly and we walked out in silence, pushed open an iron gate and came to an open-air staircase.

Helios: It’s okay to talk now.

The soft dusk startled me and I blinked my eyes vigorously, thinking it was an illusion.

I heard a chuckle coming from the side, and Helios raised his mouth slightly, leaning his back against the railing, looking at me gently.

In this impermanent landscape, the soft and warm yellow sunlight washed over his body. The light breeze blew his hair, exposing the small instruments in his ears.

His distinct silver hair seemed to be immersed in the clouds behind him, glowing with golden light and making feel like I was in a trance.

Not so soft, but not so far away.

Helios: Don’t keep looking at me like at.

In the gaze that I kept staring at, Helios seemed to be uncomfortable, pressing the corners of his mouth hard and turning his head to the side.

MC: I, I just wanted to make sure whether your injury has fully recovered.

I pursed my lips and tried not to let my myself be too happy.

This person who has always kept himself in his shell now seems to be slowly exploring his own way to show his true self to me.

Somewhat rough and very clumsy.

Helios: I have not forgotten the agreement with you.

MC: …I know.

He turned his head back to me when I said that.

MC: “I’m safe, don’t worry.” You sent this text message, right?

MC: But I think if you were actually safe, you would appear in front of me.

He lowered his eyes, seeming to be tacitly acquiescing.

Quietly, I took a step towards Helios.

MC: Aren’t you going to call me Narcissus this time?

Helios was stunned. Seeing me tilt my head with a smile at him, he seemed to pause for a moment. The burning red color of the clouds behind him sneaked onto the tips of his ears.

Helios: Are you vengeful?

MC: A little bit.

Helios: Then save it for later.

He stretched out his index finger and lightly tapped my forehead and turned the conversation back to the topic at hand.

Helios: Before explaining why you’re here.

Helios: Do you have anything to ask?

MC: ….Are your ears okay?

I watched him as I asked this question that was constantly occupying my heart, causing his pupils to shrink unconsciously.

Helios: I don’t know how to answer your question.

His hand touched the instrument in his ear. Fragmented light fell on us wildly with the wind.

Helios: But…I can hear your voice.

Helios: As for the rest, don’t ask.

MC: Okay.

Even though he was reluctant, he did not evade this question either.

Faced with such an answer, I feel happy from the bottom of my heart.

MC: So what happened after you went to the lighthouse with Joker last time? Why are you here?

MC: What’s going on with this hotel? It’s obviously nighttime so why did it become dusk again?

Helios: ….

I fired off my questions at him one after the other. Helios frowned and finally sighed.

Helios: Nothing happened.

Helios: Joker trapped me here.

Helios: This hotel only looks normal.

Helios: It’s dusk here because there is a problem.

Helios responded to my question word for word but it drew even more questions from me.

MC: Ho-hold a minute. Let’s take it one at a time.

MC: You said you were trapped here by Joker. Does that mean you can’t leave?

Helios: There are ways, but I don’t want to cause any trouble for the time being.

Helios: There are also things I want to investigate here.

MC: But how can this hotel have anything to do with Joker?

Hearing my question, Helios frowned slightly.

Helios: What do you mean?

MC: I thought this hotel was only related to the Wish Club.

I briefly explained the existence of the Wish Club and those who were taken away from there.

MC: Both of these places seem to have received investment from the Fulcrum Charity Foundation. I met the founder of this foundation some time ago.

MC: He seems to have benefited from an organization called GRAY RHINO and he’s doing things for them.

MC: But is it also related to Joker?

Helios: Who is this founder?

MC: He’s an ordinary man in his forties using a wheelchair and his name is Du Wen.

Helios’ eyes lowered as if he had figured it out and raised a slightly prickly smile.

Helios: A foundation that only serves ordinary people but why invest in a place that serves Evolvers?

MC: ….Right!

Hearing what he said, I came to a subtle conclusion of what I have been feeling.

Helios: Remember, be careful of that Du Wen.

Helios: As for your question about this hotel….

While talking, he took my hand again.

Helios: Explaining is too troublesome. I’ll show you directly.

[End of Part 1]

-Continue to Part 2-

[miserablesme]

The Les Miserables Changelog Part 2: 1985-1986 West End

Hello, everyone! This is the latest edition in my attempt to chronicle all of the musical and lyrical changes which the show Les Miserables has undergone over the years. Today, we look at the differences between the later of the two available Barbican preview audios (more on that in Part 1) and the West End variant of the musical as it existed in 1986. Only one rather poor quality audio is available of the show's pre-Broadway, post-Barbican form (though a friend of a friend has multiple masters from the era that she apparently keeps meaning to digitize). It is known to come from 1986, but the exact date remains a mystery. As such we cannot know when exactly most of the changes might have been made.

Reportedly (according to The Complete Book of Les Miserables) the majority of these refinements were made between the closing of the Barbican show and the opening of the West End one. However, some further refinements were doubtless made during the Barbican previews, and some likely were made between the opening of the West End production and whenever the audio was recorded. With all that cleared up, let's get started!

As I mentioned in Part 1, the very early Barbican previews of the opening "Work Song" featured this chain of lyrics (no pun intended):

I’ve done no wrong

Sweet Jesus, hear my prayer

Look down, look down

Sweet Jesus doesn’t care

I killed a man

He tried to steal my wife

Look down, look down

She wasn’t worth your life

I know she’ll wait

I know that she’ll be true

Look down, look down

She’s long forgotten you

As has also been established, later previews removed one sequence of lines to create the following exchange:

I’ve done no wrong

Sweet Jesus, hear my prayer

Look down, look down

Sweet Jesus doesn’t care

I killed a man

He tried to steal my wife

Look down, look down

She wasn’t worth your life

However, by 1986 another sequence was removed and the originally removed one was added back then. Thus, the still-current lyrics as of today are as follows:

I’ve done no wrong

Sweet Jesus, hear my prayer

Look down, look down

Sweet Jesus doesn’t care

I know she’ll wait

I know that she’ll be true

Look down, look down

She’s long forgotten you

A much better choice of cuts in my opinion. The point of the opening scene is to present the prisoners sympathetically, as comparatively innocent victims of an overly brutal and elitist police system. Establishing a member of the chain gang as literally being a murderer doesn't really help send that message!

Everything stays the same until "Fantine's Arrest". The Barbican previews feature this sequence:

(FANTINE)

There's a child who sorely needs me

Please monsieur, she's but that high

Holy God! Is there no mercy?

If I go to jail she'll die

(TOWNSPEOPLE[?])

Take this harlot now this minute

Let there be a full report

Let her go back in the morning

Let her answer to the court

(FANTINE)

Gentle Jesus! Won't you save me?

Are there tears enough to cry?

(JAVERT)

It's the same pathetic story

Please monsieur, my child will die!

I have heard such protestations...

By the 1986 recording, everything between "Take this harlot" and "Please monsieur, my child will die!" has been totally removed. I have a bit of a soft spot for that sequence, though I can't earnestly say the musical lost anything by removing it. Indeed Javert comes across as unbelievably heartless there!

As Part 1 pointed out, the earlier Barbican preview had Valjean shout "You know where to find me!" at the end of "Who Am I?", while the later preview did not. The 1986 recording interestingly reinserts that line, but now Valjean speaks it much more casually, without the slightly cheesy passion of the first recording. This makes me wonder whether or not it was initially removed because it was hard to take seriously, and a calmer rendition was reinstated as a compromise? Who knows.

A subtle change occurs at the beginning of the "Confrontation" sequence. During the Barbican previews, the number opens with a few notes being played and then repeated. However, by the 1986 recording the notes do not repeat. It goes straight into Javert's announcement (which Roger Allam has now learned to sing on time!) after the notes play the first time. The sequence would stay this way for quite awhile before being further shortened - more on that in a later edition!

We now go to the subsequent number, Little Cosette's famous "Castle on a Cloud" song. The Barbican previews give her a few lines before the main number starts (sung in a similar tune to her remarks about Mme. Thenardier's arrival at the end of the song):

They’ll come back any minute

And I’m nowhere near finished

Sweeping and scrubbing and polishing the floor

It’s the same every day, oh please!

Don’t let Madame hit me again

I should be used to it, but then

I know a place where nobody has to work too hard

And where I won’t be lonely again

These lines, taken closely from the original French concept album, don't really add much to the number plot-wise that won't be stated later except for more explicit confirmation that Mme. Thenardier is abusive. Perhaps partly for this reason, by the 1986 recording these lines are removed, and after the opening instrumentals it goes straight into the number we all know.

As I previously mentioned in Part 1, the later recording I have of the Barbican previews cut out the following lines during the preamble to Master of the House. I originally mistakenly claimed that the cuts occured after Thenardier's verse, but in actuality that verse too is removed.

(THENARDIER)

My band of soaks, my den of disollutes

My dirty jokes, my always pissed as newts

My sons of whores spend their lives in my inn

Homing pigeons homing in

They fly through my doors

And their money's good as yours

(CUSTOMERS)

Ain’t got a clue what he put into his stew

Must’ve scraped it off the street

Hell, what a wine

Châteauneuf de Turpentine

Must’ve pressed it with his feet

Landlord over here

Where’s the bloody man

One more for the road

One more slug of gin

Just one more or my old man is gonna do me in

By the 1986 recording, they are back in all their glory. Indeed, as you can read in Part 1 of this series Trevor Nunn himself has confirmed that the crew decided the number didn't work as well without the full preamble (an exception being, shockingly enough, Cameron Mackintosh).

During the Barbican previews, "Master of the House" was followed by a beautiful Well Scene between Valjean and Little Cosette:

(LITTLE COSETTE)

There is a castle on a cloud

I like to go there in my sleep

Aren’t any floors for me to sweep

(A FEW SECONDS OF INSTRUMENTALS)

(VALJEAN)

Don’t be afraid of me, my dear

Tell me your name and have no fear

How cold it grows when the sun has set

(LITTLE COSETTE)

I’m not afraid

Monsieur, my name’s Cosette

(VALJEAN)

Nor will you be afraid again

I come to take you from this place

There is a better world, you’ll see

(LITTLE COSETTE)

Give me your hand, and walk with me.

This leads into the humming duet between Valjean and Cosette. However, in what I consider the biggest mistake of this era's adjustments, the Well Scene was totally excised from the West End version and "Master of the House" is following directly by the humming duet. Trevor Nunn remarked a degree of regret about this in 1990's The Complete Book of Les Miserables. I don't have the book on hand right now, but I'll put down the exact quote later.

Of course, the Well Scene would later return in a much different form, but let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Perhaps to compensate for the deleted scene, another scene is added after the "Waltz of Treachery" number. During the Barbican previews, Valjean's "It won't take you too long to forget" is followed by a lot of vamping and eventually a reprise of Valjean and Cosette's humming duet. The West End production slightly reduces the vamping from about one minute to about forty-five seconds, and adds a scene (sung in the tune of "Castle on a Cloud", specifically the "there is a lady all in white" part at first and the main chorus for "Nor will you be afraid again" onwards):

(LITTLE COSETTE)

We're going home right now, monsieur

What is your name

(VALJEAN)

Now my dear

I've names enough, I've got names to spare

But where I go, you always will be there

Nor will you be afraid again

There is a sun that's shining yet

(LITTLE COSETTE)

I'm going to call you my Papa

(VALJEAN)

I'm going to call you my Cosette

The normal humming duet follows. This is a fascinating scene which seems to be exclusive to the brief era after the Barbican previews but before Broadway. It's interesting how it incorporates elements both of the opening Well Scene and of the more well-known later closing scene to the "Waltz of Treachery". It's also intriguing how it incorporates elements not really touched upon this directly in any other version of the musical, specifically just how mysterious and secretive Valjean is to the world in general as well as the fact that Cosette, in fact, is not truly Cosette's given name.

Everything seems to be the same from this point until "The Attack on Rue Plumet". In the Barbican previews, this is how the opening goes:

(EPONINE)

'Parnasse, what are you doing

So far out of our patch?

(MONTPARNASSE)

This house, we're gonna do it!

Rich man, plenty of scratch

You remember he's the bloke wot got away the other day

Got a number on his chest, perhaps a fortune put away

Took off like a guilty man, why would he want to disappear?

Now we're gonna do him right, this time no one will interfere

Everything from "Took off like a guilty man" onwards is removed from the West End version. Later in the number, we hear approximately the following exchange in the Barbican show. Fans have debated what exactly some of the lyrics are, but this is how I hear them:

(CLAQUESOUS)

What a palaver, what an absolute treat

To watch a cat and his father pick a bone in the street

(THENARDIER)

Not a sound out of you

(EPONINE)

What do you care if things scare me

(THENARDIER)

Listen 'Ponine, there might be jewels inside

There could be something for all

There could be bruises enough

You will have your share

(EPONINE)

Well I told you I'd do it, I told you I'd do it

The West End production reduces the vamping prior to this scene. Additionally, everything between "What do you care" and "You will have your share" is removed, meaning the "I told you I'd do it" is a direct remark to "Not a sound out of you". This is a much more linear and succinct way of moving the plot in my humble opinion!

That's it for act one! Act two begins largely the same, up until the scene where Gavroche reveals Javert to be a traitor. First off, Javert's original claim that they will "play their games" is changed to "spoil their games".

Next is probably this version's biggest change in the entire musical up to this point. Originally Gavroche sung approximately the following lines (once again, the recordings aren't as clear as would be desirable) in a unique tune heard nowhere else in the musical:

Good evening, dear inspector, lovely evening my dear!

A charlie for a copper who pays a call

I know who you’re supposed to be, Inspector Javert

Who never showed no mercy to no one at all

So don’t believe a word, none of it will wash

This time you’re reckoned without Gavroche!

The West End version scrapped this sequence and replaced it with "Little People" (which originally appeared in a much longer form later in the musical). This is how it went:

Good evening dear inspector, lovely evening my dear

I know this man, my friends, his name's Inspector Javert

So don't believe a word he says 'cause none of it's true

It only goes to show what little people can do

And little people know, when little people fight

We may look easy picking but we've got some bite

So never kick a dog because he's just a pup

You'd better run for cover when the pup grows up!

This edited placement of "Little People" is often attributed to the original Broadway production, but in fact it made its debut in the West End show. I'm not sure when exactly this was, given that the original cast album uses the long version. However, by the 1986 recording this is how it goes. It should be noted that it's not quite in its Broadway form, however; most notably, "We'll fight like twenty armies and we won't give up!" is not present.

A minor difference occurs during the First Attack sequence. In the Barbican production, this is how the students respond to their victory:

(GRANTAIRE)

By God, we've won the day

(LESGLES)

See how they run away

The West End production swaps the two students' lines, allowing Grantaire's slightly incredulous spirit to have a more poignant and/or amusing effect depending on your perspective.

Consequently given the new placement of the song, the show obviously had to be edited to remove the original "Little People" number. Originally, this is the way the show transitioned between the First Attack and "Little People":

(ENJOLRAS)

Courfeyrac, you take the watch

They won't attack until it's light

Everybody stay awake

We must be ready for the fight

For the final fight

Let no one sleep tonight

(GRANTAIRE)

Only little boys may sleep

For little people need their rest

Little tucks are quickly drained

And little grapes are quickly pressed

Come on little mite

It's time to say goodnight

Cue the original "Little People" number in all of its long, silly glory (in case you somehow don't know it, here are the lyrics). The West End production (and everything afterwards) cuts Grantaire's verse, so that the scene transitions straight from Enjolras' announcement to "Drink with Me". As much as I love the full-length "Little People" number (and I really do love it), I admit removing it was definitely the right choice. It's just so sweet and optimistic, it feels out of place in a musical as tragic and cynical as Les Miserables. It doesn't help that its placement is between a high-stakes action scene and a somber, slightly drunk reflection on the nature of friendships, sex, and romance. It's a wonderful song but a terrible Les Mis song. I do love it, though, and I also love how Grantaire manages to make his pre-song metaphors alcohol-related.

In the sewers, the Barbican recordings feature a unique tune not heard anywhere elsewhere in the musical (it can be heard here) before transitioning to the final Valjean-Javert confrontation. Apparently, this music was accompanied by a short chase scene. However, by the time of the 1986 recording there is instead what is essentially one repeated note which then transitions into an instrumental version of "Look Down". This is followed by the same Valjean-Javert confrontation as before.

And that just about sums this part up! If I missed anything feel free to let me know, as my goal is to create a changelog as thorough and complete as possible. I plan on making more parts in the near future covering all the changes that have been made in the show up until this day (discounting concerts). Any feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated.

As a side note, both for this project and my own enjoyment, I want as complete a collection of Les Miserables audios as possible. I already have most of what’s commonly circulated, but if you have any audios or videos you know are rare, I’d love it if you DMed me!

Until the turntable puts me at the forefront again, good-bye…

[ssajj]

Brutus

While undercover, you run into the boyfriend you left behind.

Fem!Reader, 5.1k

TW: nongraphic depictions of violence, swearing, cigarettes, hints of a toxic relationship (not between reader and Spencer), guns

Note: dual timelines! It goes back and forth for most of the fic.

"Are you sure they want to meet me?" You ask, fiddling with the sleeve of your shirt. It's hard not to overanalyze the outfit you picked out for this occasion, even if you know it's far too late to go back to your place and change. Spencer hates not arriving on time. 

He looks at you with a quizzical expression on his face. "Of course they want to meet you."

When in doubt, you love to go for false bravado. "Talk a lot about me?" You smirk, watching a slow blush appear on his cheeks. Stepping forward, you wrap your arms around his middle and gently tug him toward you. He complies easily, his hands automatically settling at the small of your back. 

"Is it okay if I do talk about you a lot?"

That makes you smile. "It's sweet."

The blush only gets stronger. "Morgan and Garcia are pretty eager to meet you," he says. "They've been bringing up tonight all week."

He's probably only saying it to make you feel better, but all it does is spike the anxiety brewing in your chest. Garcia's an information junkie; you don't even want to know the things she's already figured out about you. And Morgan is Spencer's best friend. If he doesn't like you, that's probably the beginning of the end for your relationship. 

"It'll be great, love," he's firmer this time, melting some of the fire. Your favorite thing he calls you is 'love'. Something about the gentleness of that word, the feelings it implies, and the soft look Spencer gets on his face whenever he uses it makes you want to curl up against him for the rest of your life.

After another moment, the two of you head out the door and to the bar, hands clasped together. 

"Y/N!!!!" Garcia practically forces you into a bear hug when you walk over to the BAU's table. "Oh, I am SO glad you could come tonight. I've been looking forward to this for ages! I cannot believe Spencer waited an eternity to bring you around us. You're all he talks about anymore, it's adorable."

You glance back at your boyfriend, who looks a tad horrified. Morgan laughs and slaps him on the back, forcing a cough out of him. 

"Hey," JJ greets you, looking so much less intimidating than anyone at the table. You know it's a bit of a farce though. Spencer’s told you enough stories to know that JJ is a woman who can hold her own and hold it well, despite appearances. Idly, you note that she'd be great at undercover work. "I'm JJ. I'm assuming you know that you just got crushed by Garcia. And then there's Morgan, Rossi, Emily, and Hotch." As she said their names, she pointed at them. It was nice to get confirmation, even if you were pretty sure you knew which face belonged to which name.

Hotch nods at you. "It's nice to meet you."

"Is he smiling?" Emily hisses, leaning toward Rossi. "I think Hotch is smiling."

"It's great to finally meet all of you. Spencer’s always talking about you guys," you say, taking your seat. Spencer settles down next to you close enough that your thighs touch. The bar definitely isn't somewhere that he'd normally hang out, but he seems comfortable enough here that you assume it's a frequent spot for the BAU to visit. 

A couple hours in, you're feeling tipsy and ridiculously happy. You're getting along particularly well with Emily and JJ, who are both amazing. If he isn't talking to you, Spencer’s usually talking to Morgan and Garcia, who obviously adore him. Hotch and Rossi seem lost in their own private conversations and you wonder if it's because they're the two highest ranking agents here. 

"You should totally start joining us when we have girls night!" JJ says, clinking her beer against your glass. "I think you'd really enjoy them."

You nod, feeling flattered. "I'm down to come."

Emily grins, reaching over to knock Spencer’s shoulder. "Your girlfriend is so much cooler than you."

Before you can protest, he nods. "She is," he agrees, smiling at you.

"Awww," Garcia coos, joining the conversation. "Who knew that our baby Spencer was a secret romantic? I love it!"

--

"A wedding?" You ask, pressed up against Cal's side. It's always a bit uncomfortable, almost like your bodies know you don't fit together, that something is amiss. You just hope that your body isn't the thing that finally gets you killed. "That seems below you."

Cal looks down at you, an amused smirk twisting his face. He wants to eat you up, you think. He wants to devour you. "The groom is an old family friend," he explains. "It's courtesy that I attend. And I can hardly go without a ravishing date on my arm."

You rise up on your toes to kiss his cheek, rubbing a bit at the lipstick you leave with the pad of your thumb. "As long as I get to pick my own dress."

"What kind of man would I be if I didn't let you pick it yourself?" His grip on you tightens enough that you wonder if it'll leave a bruise on your hip. Tomorrow, you know you'll find a wad of cash in your purse. In exchange, he'll get to take it off of you after the wedding. 

Mercifully, he lets you go a second later. You step back, walking by him. He's done with you for the day. Your relationship is to the point where he doesn't need to formally dismiss you anymore. You've picked him apart and put him back together. Whether he knows it or not, it feels like you've made him the very man that you hate with every fiber of your being. At least, you tell yourself that you hate him. When it gets too hard, when you find yourself falling under his spell, you picture the last boyfriend you had as yourself. A man full of shy smiles, sweet compliments, gentle kisses, and the most beautiful assortment of random knowledge. When he's in your mind, you don't get lost in the person you're pretending to be. It's the only time you feel like yourself. 

Of course, being yourself too much would get you killed, so you limit yourself. 

You go dress shopping the next day. Cal gave you an absurd budget, so you manage to pick out an extravagant dress and also a pair of shoes and earrings. This morning, Cal had mentioned that the wedding was going to be a black tie event, giving you an excuse to feel like a princess. Well. Maybe a trapped princess, like Cinderella or Rapunzel. You walk out of the store with a heavy bag on your arm. When you return to the house, it's blissfully empty. Cal isn't due back until late, but you still do a full walk around the house, double checking before you go out to the garden. The first few months you lived here, the garden was the responsibility of the landscapers that stopped by occasionally, but you batted your eyes and sucked on Cal's lip until he agreed to give it to you. Now, no one else was allowed to touch it per his orders. And he wasn't the kind of man his staff said no to. 

Basically, it was a perfect hiding spot. You go over to the daisies, digging a little until you find the box that contained your current burner phone. You'd have to switch soon, probably within the next few weeks. It was close to dying and it was never a good idea to keep the same phone number for an extended period of time. You dial the number once, hang up immediately, dial again, let it ring three times, hang up, and then dial for a final time. Your handler answers quickly.

"What?" He asks, gruff. 

"We're going to a wedding near Virginia."

You hear him suck in a breath. "Close to where you used to live."

"I know."

"If you get recognized-"

"I won't."

He pauses. "Stay safe."

You hang up the phone and pray you make it through this alive. 

--

On your one year anniversary, Spencer brings you to a museum. He walks you through all the exhibits, rambling about anything he knows in regards to your surroundings. His hands keep waving through the air, his eyes bright and alive, a grin splitting his face. It's obvious that he's in his element. 

You love him so badly that it hurts, sometimes. 

By the time you reach the gift shop, your brain is full of knowledge you probably won't ever need again. 

"Sorry," Spencer says suddenly, looking at you. "Did I just bore you? You know you're allowed to cut me off when I get going."

You shake your head, kissing his cheek. "It was cute. I loved it."

Once you're done there, the two of you head back to his apartment. Last month, the two of you had decided not to do gifts, electing just to spend the day together instead. You cuddle with him on the couch, your body tucked perfectly against his. In this moment, you feel safe. You're with a man you know loves you, and you love him back just as fiercely. Life is good. 

--

You and Cal arrive in Virginia at the crack of dawn, early enough that it feels like you should still be rubbing the sleep out of your eyes even though you've been awake for hours. “Who even has weddings before noon? I didn’t even think that was a thing.”

Cal chuckles beside you, his arm snaking around you. In this moment, it’s hard not to shudder. You’ve never understood his need to always touch you, claim you for the world to see. As far as he knows, you’ve never belonged to anyone else. You were born and bred for this, a perfect lover. Just enough sass, just enough danger, just enough compliance, just enough meekness. He doesn’t know that this isn’t the real you, that you’re always on the verge of screaming your head off. One day, he’ll learn. It’ll end in one of your deaths. 

Hopefully, it’ll end in his death. 

"We'll stop at the hotel first, darling," Cal takes your hand as he talks, leading you along the side of the road. God, you remember this place. Of course you do. This is your home turf. A new name and a new look doesn't mean that this doesn't feel like home. "You can get changed and refreshed before we head to the venue."

You shrug. "Sounds good to me."

The walk is blissfully short, but the hotel is grand. It's definitely not somewhere you would have been able to afford. Honestly, you're almost disgusted by how the place practically bleeds money and how well Cal seems to blend into this new environment. 

Once you're in the room, you toss your suitcase onto the bed, hissing when the action results in a broken nail. Cal laughs at you as you stick your finger in your mouth. He comes over after a beat, pulling at your hand to inspect your nail. For a second, it looks like he's going to lick your finger, but he just lets you go. "Get dressed," he tells you, kissing your forehead. "I want to see how stunning you're going to look."

--

"Something's off about you."

You whip around, coming face to face with Emily. She's wearing an expression you recognize, but not on her: perfect blankness. There's no trace of a personality, no trace of a name attached to the person that spoke. Something tightens in your chest and you crane your neck to look at Spencer, who's blissfully unaware of the words that were just spoken. Instead, he's fully engaged in a conversation with JJ and Will, hands flapping as they smile warmly at him. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say to Emily, crafting a neutral but surprised look to wear on your own face. "Not sure I appreciate the tone, though."

Emily scoffs. "Don't play dumb with me. Come on. I know you got the same feeling about me."

She's right, even though you don't admit it. It almost feels like when two predators acknowledge each other in the wild- they know they're evenly matched, and so they go their separate ways. Except that everyone in the room is a predator. You and Emily are a different breed, though. 

She's done deep undercover work. 

"Ladies!" Rossi interrupts, throwing an arm around Emily’s shoulders. If he notes any tension, he doesn't comment on it. "Why are you being antisocial over here?" He points at you. "Your boyfriend has been talking the ears off of JJ and Will. I honestly couldn't even tell you what about."

You shrug. "They don't seem to mind."

"Am I not allowed to talk to her?" Emily asks, eyebrow quirked. "I need to make sure she's not a secret spy."

Rossi laughs. "Garcia would have already sniffed that out, don't worry. Y/N passed her background check with flying colors."

"Did you?" You ask Emily, a small smile playing on your lips. 

"Of course."

By now, Rossi’s gotten a good taste of the strangers of this interaction. He glances between you, eyes narrowing as they settle on you. You don't change your face.

"Actually, I think I'll join Spencer," you say, sliding past the two of them. 

Spencer welcomes you gladly, folding you seamlessly into the conversation. Throughout most of it, you wonder how everyone else can understand what Will's saying. For all you know, he could be telling you off. 

When you turn your head, you notice that Emily’s still looking at you. When you nod at her, she nods back. 

You hope that's the end of it. 

--

An hour in, you figure out that you hate weddings. 

It doesn't help that you've been ditched. Cal was stuck to you like glue just long enough for you two to walk in together before he mumbled something about "important business" and took off. Currently, you're sitting alone at a table toward the back of the venue. You don't know what the hell you got so dressed up for or why you chose such a risky dress. One wrong move meant that everyone here was going to see a lot more of you than you were comfortable with. 

"Hey, pretty lady," a man greets you, plopping himself in one of the empty seats next to you. You blink at him. "All alone here?"

"I'm here with my boyfriend."

He sighs, putting his sweaty hands on the table. "Now, what kind of man would leave his lady all by her lonesome?"

"How about you leave before I kick your ass?"

Cal laughs behind you, alerting you to his presence. You turn around, smiling at him. He's got a warm look on his face, the one that's only reserved for you. 

"Oh!" The stranger yelps, standing up so fast that he rattles the table. "I didn't realize you were Cal's-"

"Just go," you tell him, waving him off. He doesn't waste any time. 

Cal takes the empty seat. "I don't know why I bothered having security. You're scarier than all of them."

You roll your eyes. "Uh huh. Have fun chatting up all the old rich men here?"

He takes your hand. "I'm sorry to leave you alone for so long." Lifting your hand, he kisses it. You blush. 

"I'm assuming you have to go back to that?"

He nods. "Will you be okay here?"

"I think I'm going to go smoke, actually."

He's the one that got you into cigarettes, so he doesn't protest this. "Go out the west wing exit," he says instead. "There's always too much traffic at the main doors."

The two of you part, heading in opposite directions. It takes you a bit to find the right exit, but you're blissful when the crisp air finally hits your face. The view isn't bad, either, but it does make your heart ache. 

For some stupid reason, you hadn't realized that the venue was so close to the museum Spencer loved taking you to. 

You take your sweet time outside, cigarette dangling loosely from your fingers. It's the most relaxed you've felt all day, away from the prying eyes that know you as someone else. This assignment has already gone on for longer than you'd expected, but Cal is a tough nut to crack. Every time you think you have his complete trust, that he'll tell you what you need to know, a door slams shut in your face, or he gets angry with you for the littlest action. You take a drag, watching the smoke dissipate in the air. 

"Y/N?" A familiar voice asks.

Your heart stops. 

--

Your blood freezes in your veins, seemingly distorting everything around you. "What?" You whisper into the phone. 

"He'll be okay," JJ soothes. "He's getting checked out by an EMT as we speak, I promise. I'm staring at him right now."

"What happened?"

She pauses, which doesn't fill you with any kind of confidence. "He went in after the unsub without backup. They ended up getting into a bit of a fight before Morgan and I could get to him. The three of us took down the unsub together, Spence is just...bruised."

"Any cracked ribs?" You ask. 

"I'll let you know as soon as I find out. I'll call back in a few, okay?" 

Before you can reply, the line is disconnected. 

For the next eleven minutes and thirty-two seconds, you don't move a muscle. This wasn't the first time Spencer had gotten hurt since you'd started dating- perks of being with someone that hunted serial killers for a living- but that did nothing to comfort you now. Your mind always went to the worst possible place, combing over your last interaction with Spencer, wondering if he died now, would he know how much you loved him? While you were at a desk job currently, most of your career had been spent never knowing if you'd make it to dawn. This had been ingrained in you by now. You've seen people die, you've seen people be killed in a heartbeat. You survived that. 

You couldn't survive Spencer dying. 

The second your phone rings, it's answered and at your ear. "How is he?"

"Y/N," Spencer says into the phone, and you feel your entire body relax. 

Instead of answering him, you burst into tears. 

"Hey, hey. I'm okay, love."

"Sorry!" You practically wail, covering your mouth with your hand. "Sorry. What did the EMT say? How are you feeling? When will you be home?"

He answers your questions in a steady tone, obviously still worried about your emotional level. "We're getting on the jet once JJ and Hotch finish wrapping up with the detectives here."

"Promise?"

"I promise, Y/N." 

Twelve hours later, Spencer is wrapped in your arms. He has a cracked ribs and an assortment of bruises, but he's breathing and he's here.

"Are you ever going to tell me what happened to you that causes such a dramatic reaction?" He asks, making you tense. 

"Spence…"

He sighs. "I know."

This was the biggest rift in your relationship. He pours his heart out day by day, and you're a shell of a woman with none of that to offer him. You can’t talk about most of your career. Even now, at a boring desk job, you're handling other people's undercover identities. You requested a break from going undercover and gotten it, but there's a part of your brain that still knows not to trust that. They could try to send you away tomorrow. 

--

Spencer. Spencer is here. Spencer is staring at you. Spencer just said your name. 

You know what you have to do, even if it'll hurt both of you. You'd tear yourself open to keep him safe, set yourself on fire to keep him safe, but that doesn't mean it'll be any easier to break his heart to keep him safe. 

"I'm sorry?" You ask, scrunching your face up in confusion. "I think you have the wrong person."

You don't look exactly like you did when you dated Spencer. Your hair is a different color and cut, and your face has started hollowing out from stress and hate. Honestly, there's been times where you haven't even recognized yourself in the mirror. 

He repeats your name, taking a step toward you. Instinct has taught you well, so even though you want to run forward into his arms, you take a step back. 

He looks different since the last time you saw him. Different, but good. He's filled out more, his hair is longer, and he's holding himself with more authority. This Spencer isn't constantly curled in on himself, you know. He isn't always trying to make himself lesser. He's maintained his kind eyes, though. They're staring straight through you, searching for things you can't give him. All you can remember is the love you shared with him, the love you smashed when you left. It makes you ache. 

This is conformation of your deepest fear: he's better off without you. 

"That isn't my name," you tell him, cocking your head to the side. The cigarette, you notice, has fallen to the ground. You wonder if he's noticed, but you step on it all the same. "My name is Reva."

"Reva." It sounds distinctly wrong coming from his lips, like it doesn't quite fit despite his efforts to force it. By this point, you're well used to being called the wrong name. Something about the way Spencer says it still makes you want to cringe. 

Regardless, he can't know any of that. He still has some hope in his eyes, although it's being muddled by confusion. "Yes," you confirm. "Look, I'm sorry you can't find who you're looking for. I'm not her, though."

"I'm sorry, too."

"Reva!" You hear, and you turn to find Cal coming out the door. Whipping your head back at Spencer, you gesture for him to leave, feeling some of your panic leak out into the open. Cal doesn't get to look at Spencer. He doesn't get to talk to Spencer. 

Out of desperation, you practically leap into Cal's arms, kissing him firmly on the mouth. He’s surprised, but since he never says no to this kind of thing, he pulls you closer and deepens it. “Can we get out of here?” You whine, lowering your hands to right below his ass. 

“I think that sounds perfect.”

As he takes your hand to lead you back into the venue, you spare one last look at Spencer. He’s rooted to the spot, mouth slightly agape as he stares at you. 

You have the sinking feeling that you didn’t trick him well enough. 

--

When you go into the office on Monday, you know. Your supervisor is standing at your desk, a grim expression on his face. 

“I don’t want to go,” you tell him automatically. 

All the other times you’ve been under, there’s been no one on the other side to miss you. Now, though? You think of Penelope, who likes surprising you with different kinds of flowers, of Rossi, who taught you how to make your first authentic Italian dish, of Hotch, who you just managed to work a soft smile out of, of JJ, who automatically gravitates toward you whenever you’re in a room together, of Morgan, who lifted you up and spun you around when you admitted to him that you could see a forever with Spencer, and god- Spencer. You don’t want to leave Spencer. You could survive without him, but there’d forever be a light missing. 

“Come on into my office,” your supervisor tells you. “We have a lot to talk about.”

--

For the first time in a long time, you cry yourself to sleep. 

The next day, you make your way back into the garden. Cal’s out again, probably plotting something that will result in death and destruction. You’re frustrated that he’s been so difficult to get through to, you’re frustrated that you saw Spencer last night, and all you want to do is throw your head back and scream until your throat is raw and bleeding. That isn’t an option, so all you can do is dig up your phone and make the call. 

When you tell him what happened, all you get is a sigh before he hangs up. Figures. “Asshole.”

--

“What do you want me from me, huh?” You scream, hands balled into fists at your side. Your breath is heavy, weighing the room down. 

Spencer scoffs at you. “I’ve made it perfectly clear what I want, you just aren’t listening anymore.”

“I can’t give you that.”

He won’t look at you anymore. Tears have started gathering in his eyes, and while you want to wipe them away, you know you don’t have the right. You’re the one that put them there, you’re the one making him act like this. 

“It feels like I barely know you sometimes,” he says, and you don’t even have a counter argument for that. You’ve been so many people. At this point, you’re a jigsaw puzzle of everyone you’ve ever been, but he’s missing too many pieces to solve you. 

When you don’t respond, he sighs, running his hand through his hair. And then-

“I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

You suck in a breath. “What?”

His voice firms. “I don’t think I can do this anymore, Y/N. I don’t know if this is working. I don't think I want to keep trying."

Before he can say anything else, before you can make your case, before you can fight for him, your legs are already carrying you out the door. 

You make a single phone call. 

“I’m in. Tell me more about the assignment.”

--

On a Wednesday, it ends. It's months since you saw Spencer. Part of you had expected some big event to come from that, whether it be Cal stabbing you in the stomach or Spencer somehow tracking you down to save you. Life isn't a romance movie, though, so you just went back to being alone. 

And finally, after a century of careful prodding and poking, you get the information you need to take Cal down. 

As the sun shines and the birds chirp, the SWAT team bursts through the door, shouting to get down. You scream Cal's name, knowing that your performance isn't going to be over until he never gets to see daylight again.

Unfortunately, Cal never goes down without a fight. He comes out guns blazing, shooting one of the SWAT members before they even register that he's there. In a flash, you're pressed up against Cal's chest, the barrel of his gun pressed to your head. 

"You motherfucker," you whisper. 

"I'm sorry, baby," he says to you, raising his voice to talk to the SWAT team. "Back off or I'll shoot!"

This fantastic plan results in you bleeding from a bullet wound in your stomach, curled on the ground and Cal is hauled off by SWAT. One of them approaches you once everyone else is gone.

"Good work, Y/N."

--

You hate hospitals. You hate the lights, the sounds, the smells, and the general fear of death that spikes whenever you enter through the doors. You've already been debriefed, already destroyed Reva. As far as Cal knows, you bled to death on his living room floor. 

As you start to drift off to sleep, you hear a sudden clanging from down the hall, muffled voices oozing in frustration. Footsteps start up again, and then-

Oh.

Spencer’s in your room. 

"Y/N," he gapes, coming up to the side of the bed. He starts to reach for your hand before aborting the motion; in response, you grab his instead. You're too weak to deny him right now. "Oh, god. Y/N."

"How are you here?" You ask. 

"Penelope. I knew it was you outside the venue, and once the shock wore off, I knew you were undercover. We've been trying to locate you ever since, but your name pinged on her alerts when you were admitted here. What happened?"

"SWAT guy shot me."

The two of you lock eyes, and you're horrified to discover that you're both on the verge of crying. "Spence-"

He hugs you, arms gentle as he settles onto the bed. As you sob into his arms, you feel more at home than you have in a very long time. 

--

Two weeks later, you're curled in his bed. 

Things aren't normal. You've been gone for over a year and you left things completely unfinished. Not to mention that you've screamed yourself awake every night, panic attacks and sobs wrecking you even as Spencer whispers comforts as he holds you. But you're safe. 

Another day later, Spencer helps you sit up before announcing, "We need to talk."

"I know."

He starts fiddling with the sleeves of his cardigan. "You- you left."

"You told me to."

"No! I-" he sighs, pulling harder at his sleeves. "I know it sounded that way. But I love you, Y/N. Then and now. I was never done trying for you."

You laugh a little. It doesn't sound right. "You don't love me now. I'm not even...I don't know how much of myself is even left anymore."

"So let me find out," he pleads. "Let me learn to love all the new things about you, let me cherish what hasn't changed."

"I'm sorry for running."

"I'm sorry for not chasing after you."

--

Your first date after coming back to yourself is a walk through the park. Spencer figures you can handle that, figures you won't get too overwhelmed or pained from the experience. He still lets you lean against him the entire time.

Since the first initial conversation, you've had many more. You've detailed your thoughts, as well as your experiences with Cal. You fought and fought and fought with your supervisor to get the clearance to tell Spencer, reminding him that you refused to ever go under again and that Spencer was an agent. Eventually, he folded. Spencer still had to sign an absurd amount of paperwork. In turn, Spencer explained the things he'd been up to since you left, how he refused to lose you again once he spotted you. 

Things aren't perfect. They are better, though.

"Hey," you say, pulling at his hand until he stops. "I love you."

A big smile spreads across his face, and he leans forward until your foreheads are touching. "I love you too."

When you kiss him, you vow to yourself to never leave again. 

[sonnet009]

Wilder: Royo’s Story (Route Summary)

PROLOGUE:

MC decides not to flee Ziya but to instead wait for the guards to arrive, trusting that justice and truth will prevail. She is promptly arrested and thrown in prison to await her execution.

CHAPTER I:

Weeks pass and MC grows weak and despondent. Then one day an audaciously dressed djinn appears, knocks out the guards, and rescues MC from her cell. The djinn introduces herself as Royo and says that she has been sent here by an important man with a lot of coin. Royo smuggles MC out of the palace in an empty wine barrel, barely keeping her cover intact when one of the palace servants treats her like a lowly slave.

Outside and in the clear MC learns to her dismay that Royo was not sent by Uncle Makram to bring MC home, but by some mysterious other man to whom Royo intends to take her. Unable to overpower her or call out for help without being sent straight back to the dungeon, MC reluctantly goes along with Royo who has a horse waiting to carry both of them away into the desert.

In the Shining Sands Royo and MC cross paths with slavers returning to the city. One of the men recognises MC and Royo kills all of them before they can cause trouble. MC is horrified but Royo only shrugs. “Problem solved, princess.”

CHAPTER II:

Royo takes MC up into the Western Hills in an attempt to shake off any potential pursuers. She refuses to divulge the identity of her employer and will say only that he is a man who believes in MC's innocence. MC asks if Royo believes she is innocent, but Royo only replies that she doesn't care. Suddenly the two women are surrounded by a hunting party of wild djinn. Royo whispers to MC that they should bide their time for now and allows the djinn to escort them to their leader.

The tribe's chief is quickly charmed by Royo and agrees to let them stay there for the night, though he insists that MC is tied to a tree. During dinner two djinn children come to bring MC some food. Royo later takes MC – hands still tied – to a river to wash the grime away, claiming that her employer will be annoyed if MC is delivered to him looking so disheveled. MC notes that Royo seems to be enjoying MC's humiliation. Royo doesn't deny it. After all, she had to endure debasement at the hands of humans for years. “You will survive one night of indignity, princess.”

In the night a sudden storm rolls in. One of the children MC met before is swept into the river but is only noticed by MC, and no one will listen to her. Unable to swim but with no choice, MC leaps into the river to save the child. She manages to drag him to the bank before collapsing. As soon as the storm passes, Royo insists that she and MC move on.

CHAPTER III:

Royo and MC head up into the mountains known as the Knives. Feeling weaker and weaker, injuries from her clumsy rescue throbbing, MC finally passes out and falls to the ground. When she wakes it is in a cave, lit by firelight, resting in Royo's lap. Royo, unaware she is awake, is murmuring apologies for not realising MC had a fever and commendations for being brave enough to jump in the river and insults for being stupid enough to jump in the river.

When MC reveals that she is awake Royo nearly jumps out of her skin. She caught some rabbits earlier and has been cooking them on the fire. The two eat dinner together and Royo finally opens up a little more. She explains that her employer is Yasir, a member of the Guild that rules the city of Umar. He is famous as the human who emancipated the djinn of Umar and has taken great interest in MC, who killed the shah in the name of the slaves. MC protests that she didn't kill the shah, not for the slaves or anyone, but Royo already knows. It's simply a rumour that Yasir wants to capitalise on.

Once MC has recovered she and Royo continue their journey, though now they are more at ease with each other. Royo hits MC with her first snowball. They bathe together in a hot spring. Royo checks MC's still-healing wounds and tells her, “Next time, count on me.” She also muses that the tribe will probably remember MC's actions for a long time. It's not the kind of revolutionary action that will force change on a grand scale, but it wasn't bad. For a princess.

CHAPTER IV:

Past the Knives now, on the way to the port town of Dijarah, Royo finally tells MC the truth about Yasir's expectations. He wants MC to marry him. MC is appalled. Royo is sympathetic but firm, insisting that Yasir is a great man and her best option.

She tells the story of her young life as a criminal, slave to a gang of thieves. One day she tried to rob Yasir, just a simple merchant back then, only to have him declare that, if she helped him, he would free not just her but everyone like her. It was like being reborn, she says with a profound solemnity. MC starts to wonder if Royo is in love with Yasir.

Hamza and his men ambush them on the road. Hamza overpowers Royo but is unprepared for the headbutt she plants on him. Fleeing with MC on her back, Royo gives the soldiers the slip and comes to rest in an old barn. Royo tells MC to sleep while she keeps watch for the night but MC instead chooses to stay awake by her side.

CHAPTER V:

Once they arrive in Dijarah Royo buys dinner for them both at a local inn. A drunk man bumps into them and takes offence to Royo's lack of subservience. Royo brushes him off and suggests to MC that they take in the sights at the Fish Festival that is happening tonight, though that means delaying their journey by a day. MC is touched that Royo would do that for her, though Royo denies any sentimentality.

During the festival they walk through the lively streets and Royo seems to be on a mission to give MC as many new experiences as she can. “I wish we could see more things like this,” she says quietly, but they both know that she cannot be swayed from her duty to Yasir. The drunkard from earlier reappears with his friends, hurling insults at Royo and threatening violence. Royo handily disarms him – his friends are no help – and sends them all running.

This incident has upset Royo in a way MC has never seen before. Royo says that she is sick of people like him. She is a free woman but they'll never see her as anything but beneath them. The next day she and MC board a ship bound for Umar, Royo distant and closed off again.

CHAPTER VI:

MC is treated like nobility on the ship, at Royo's insistence. Royo says it is what Yasir would want but MC suspects this is another way for Royo to distance herself from her. Every night MC sleeps in a luxurious cabin while Royo sleeps outside.

One day, alone on deck, MC is grabbed from behind by a mysterious figure who whispers into her ear, “Justice for the shah,” before pushing her overboard. Royo arrives in time to save her but does not see the would-be assassin. She investigates the ship but cannot find any passenger without an alibi. That night she sleeps on the floor in MC's cabin and they fall asleep holding hands, a vow to protect MC on Royo's lips.

Days pass with no further attempts on MC's life. Royo is stuck to MC like glue, but their unresolved issues turn this into a volatile situation. During an argument Royo nearly kisses MC, then backs off – horrified at herself – and leaves the room. While MC waits for her to return and sorts through her own feelings, the assassin slips into the room.

CHAPTER VII:

Though MC is injured in the ensuing struggle Royo returns in time to thwart the assassin – a man hired by Hamza to shadow MC and wait for the right moment to enact “justice”. While tending to MC's new wounds Royo berates herself for being a terrible escort so far. She admits that it's because she's starting to want not to hand MC over to Yasir.

Giving in to their growing passion and feeling the looming threat of their time journeying together coming to an end, MC and Royo embrace each other and spend the rest of the voyage together in MC's cabin. Royo calls it “making the most of the time we still have”.

But eventually their stolen time together must end. The ship reaches Umar and they disembark. Though pained, Royo makes sure MC knows that they can never speak of this or do it again.

CHAPTER VIII:

When MC is brought before Yasir, it is not him alone waiting for her. Hamza stands beside him, intent on arresting MC and taking her back to Ziya for her execution. With no other way to protect herself, MC accepts Yasir's marriage proposal on the spot and Hamza leaves to avoid a diplomatic incident. Yasir introduces MC to the Guild, the seven most important people in Umar who rule the city as one. Though they should be equal, Yasir clearly leads them.

Yasir throws a ball to celebrate the engagement. MC ends up fleeing to a guest room and Royo follows. Both longing for each other, they give in to temptation but soon stop when the miserable reality of the situation becomes too heavy to ignore.

The night before the wedding MC cannot sleep and wanders Yasir's manor, wanting nothing more than to find Royo and beg her to run away with her. She finds Royo in furtive conversation with another djinn and eavesdrops on them. Through this MC learns three devastating things: 1. Royo and her co-conspirators arranged for the shah of Ziya's murder. 2. They plan to kill Yasir tomorrow before the wedding. And 3. They intend to frame MC as the culprit, and Yasir as the second husband she has had killed.

CHAPTER IX:

The manor is too abuzz with wedding preparations for MC to find anyone who will listen to her. Yasir is cloistered in his chambers and has no interest in seeing her until just before the ceremony. When it is just her, Yasir and Royo in the room, MC is surprised when nothing happens. No assassination. Things are not going according to the plan she heard last night at all.

The wedding goes ahead, vows are spoken, but everything is suddenly interrupted by a number of black-clad and masked djinn who storm the ceremony. While one stabs Yasir through the heart, killing him, another attacks MC. Royo cries out, “No!” and shields MC from the dagger, taking the wound herself. As chaos erupts throughout the crowd MC only has eyes for Royo, cradling her as she bleeds out on the ground. Through shuddering breaths Royo tells MC that she wasn't supposed to be hurt. MC confronts her about the plan but Royo says she changed the plan, not wanting MC to be a pawn in anyone's plots anymore – especially not hers. MC doesn't understand why this has happened. Royo's final words before she is dragged away by guards is, “His...coffer...”

While Royo is confined to the dungeon, MC searches Yasir's chambers. She unlocks the golden coffer by his bed and finds a mountain of evidence that he was far from the good-hearted revolutionary he pretended to be. His freeing of the slaves was a political stunt and the ultimate goal was to have them slide back into chains over time. Royo must have discovered this some time ago and has been plotting his downfall ever since. Not just his, but the downfall of all the tyrants who would keep her people enslaved. The documents also implicate the Guild in a lot of shady practices. MC takes what she knows to them and promises not to expose them; she just has one demand...

BITTER END:

MC demands that Royo is freed and pardoned. The Guild accepts and gifts MC her late husband's manor and wealth as further insurance that she will not be a problem for them.

Royo stays with MC for a while while she recovers but living in the manor in wilful ignorance of the injustice still present in Umar and beyond becomes suffocating for her. One night MC catches her trying to slip away from their bed leaving behind only a note. Royo says that she has to go, has to see the change she wants in the world be done, but promises to return if she can.

SWEET END:

MC demands her late husband's place in the Guild. With little choice, they accept. MC uses her new power to free and pardon Royo. The two of them return to Yasir's (now MC's) manor and spend most of their time working together to draw up proposals to bring before the Guild, forcing them to enact real and lasting change for the djinn. The one MC is most excited to put in place would be increasing the Guild's number by making Royo a member.

MC and Royo make no secret of their relationship, now able to be lovers openly and without shame. Royo proposes marriage –  when enough time of “mourning” has passed, of course. The large scar Royo has from the wedding day has become both a point of pride for her and a reminder not to forget that she isn't alone in this anymore.