#like.... how am i supposed to form connections when every plot point has me working with/for a brand new person

[dragongirlbunny]

man arr just. really doesnt give you a lot of time with characters huh.

[snifflesthemouse]

Harry’s the Problem. His wife is the symptom. He is the real Diana 2.0 Wannabe...

         Since the Oprah interview aired, my whole perspective regarding the spare and his spouse has shifted. It would seem that I’m not alone in my thought process as more and more media outlets start reporting similar stances. Just recently, there was an article suggesting Harry didn’t change; but rather, he is only finally revealing his true self. The more I think about it all, the more I’ve come to the realization #6 is the real culprit behind everything.

         I’m not saying that his wife doesn’t have her own agenda or shares responsibility for her part in all this. Her hands are far from clean. What I am saying is it’s finally time for all of us to consider the cold, hard truth. Harry is his mother’s child. Harry is the bad egg, and his wife is only a side effect of the real problem here.

         Had it not been for the Oprah interview, I would have never put it all together. The problem with oversharing is too much information gets put out in the public. Most assume PR firms would worry about oversaturation in the press, but the real problem comes from personal interviews they cannot control in real-time. Puff pieces can be edited before publishing so facts and statements align; live interviews cannot. Over time, one of two patterns form from this oversaturation. Consistencies, repetitions, and similarities can be found in oversaturated truth-telling. Inconsistencies, changes, and huge differences result from those like Harry who prefer their trousers scorching hot from bursting into flames from deception. When you consistently lie, the only constant is the inconsistencies. 

         Now, those of us who have been following these two already know by now inconsistencies and changing stories should be expected. But the Oprah interview really highlighted some interesting things I had previously missed. The interview with Dax Shephard only solidifies my theories. Up until lately, those two have been together through most everything. Very seldom have we seen Harry alone in an interview or speech. There’s never a time where the missus isn’t popping up. James Corden proved that. Then we have the Oprah interview where she was supposed to be the star of the show. But, that was the moment it all changed. That interview was the moment she became the understudy. 

          Think about it. Who is the one being used in the media lately? Most people would suggest that the impending delivery of child number dos is why the missus is absent. One would then argue the Apple + special with Oprah started production well before the second child was a topic for discussion. The missus is being used less and less on camera or in the media. Everything is all about Harry. Forget about when Harry met Sally; Harry Met Hollywood! 

         Harry is the one doing the interviews, dropping projects, and talking with big Hollywood names. Even their announced Netflix projects are focused on one of Harry’s pre-married concepts. All the wife has going for her is a book that’s only number one in the “Books written by ex-Royals who couldn’t hack it” category. Seriously though, as of this posting the Bench is #2130 on the Amazon Books list, #12 in Children’s Black and African American Story Books, #73 in Children’s Emotions Books, and #167 in Children’s Family Life Books. Being pregnant isn’t a disqualifier for being interviewed. But, apparently being just the wife is.

         So, if it was his wife’s plan from the beginning to marry Harry, get him to abandon his family, move to California, and become a big star with a Prince for a husband, her plans have been ruined. And if you think about what she said in the interview with Oprah, you can actually see the moments she told us all exactly that. She clearly tells Oprah Harry was her direct link and source to the Royal Family and everything she needed to know. She didn’t misspeak or misunderstand a thing; she was telling us that Harry’s next to be markled. In every weird answer or revelation where she gave her versions for why their child(ren) were without title, saying they wed three days before the chapel, or having to cry out to HR since Harry failed to help her while she was so depressed she wanted to kill herself and her unborn child... all of it. It was all just the beginning. It may seem like she is attacking her husband’s family, but Harry’s the real target now.

          In just a couple sentences, she managed to reveal who Harry really was. Harry, of all people, should (and does) know how to navigate the press. Clearly, he failed to not only help her acclimate to Royal life, but it could also even be argued he set her up for failure for the get go. Let me give you an example. When my husband introduced me to his family for the first time, he told me little tidbits of information he found important for me to know. He essentially prepped me for the meeting so things went well. He wanted his family to like me because he loved me. I wanted them to like me because I loved him, too. So, I took to heart everything he told me. Yet, Harry’s wife shared with the world how little Harry cared about that. She credits Fergie with teaching her to curtsey, google for teaching her the National Anthem, and even said Her Majesty made her feel especially welcomed. So how did Harry not do more? If they started seeing one another in the early Summer of 2016, how is it Harry failed to teach or explain anything to her prior to meeting his grandmother, the Queen, when he had months and months of time to do so? How is it he failed his wife so miserably, she didn’t even understand basic UK custom, laws, or protocols? Why might you ask?

         Simply put, Harry is so much like his mother, all he knows is how to play the victim narrative while using the link to the Royal family as a nonstop ATM machine. Many people aren’t honest with themselves when it comes to Diana. She wasn’t the Mother Theresa everyone makes her out to be. Mother Theresa wasn’t a Mother Theresa either, though. Did Diana do some great things? Absolutely. Did she do them only because they were nice or great? Absolutely… not. Diana’s PR team would even have her switch up her charity causes whenever they felt it was getting to martyrdom level. They’d refer to her PR stunts as flavors. Does that sound like an innocent woman?

         Not to me. This whole time we all have seen his wife as the root of all issues, but she’s the side effect. It’s becoming more clear by the day that Harry searched out her. He wanted someone with the basic Hollywood connections that he could capitalize. Someone that seemed so controlling and ambitious it would be easy to believe they were controlling him, too. Of course he knew she would invite all the celebs she did. He probably inspired that guest list. Instead of guiding her in the press and in British society, he leads her to slaughter. He hides behind her repeated gaffes and wokeness to keep on his own mission.

         You see, Harry is obsessed with his brother eventually becoming king, being the “Second Son of Diana” and being the misfit. He is obsessed with his brother and father. They are all he talks about. When you obsess on something like that, it is more revealing than anything you say. Harry’s true motives aren’t protecting his wife and children. His real motive is making a name for himself like his mother did. If he can manage to get some revenge by making the Firm feel some backlash, hey that’s a bonus. 

         While his wife may think in her mind she will be the next Diana 2.0, the truth is we all missed who really will be. Harry is the one wanting to be Diana 2.0. If that’s the case, then that means the much older spouse for whom there are two children with, aka the wife, would be his Charles. Remember, Diana lost her HRH and titles. And we have Harry being very aggressive and pushy, to the point it seems he is trying to get ahead of a Palace announcement of them losing their titles. But it makes sense now.

         They aren’t trying to lose anything, but instead Harry keeps opening his mouth to create pressure in the media. He knows his wife does not want to give those titles back. But if he himself keeps saying outrageous things, then it would put everyone in ultimatum mode. Either Harry will push hard enough that Parliament and the Queen will have enough, or the press will get so critical of the two, Harry will push his wife to agree to returning the titles.

         Harry is following the Diana business model. While in the Royal Family, they both were seen as rock stars who had more star power the the Sovereign, which was an issue. Then, they couldn’t take all the abuse, coldness, and inhumanity, so they bolted for freedom. Instead of putting the past behind them, they use the past to monetize grief and trauma in such a way, they become their own brand. Right now, the trauma being monetized comes from the past, but the problem will soon come when that trauma is tapped out. He will need a source of new pain or victimhood. Enters the wife stage left.

          The wife is a tool. She of course has her own plans and thinks she is the one in control or the genius. She thinks she is the one everyone wants to work with. But it’s becoming clear to her that isn’t the case and she’s been played by her elite buddies. They all want him, not her. They all duped her for him. If I can see it, and I can see her already finger pointing that Harry is the failure here, then she can see it. And that means paradise will soon be lost in those Montecito hills. His wife won’t go down without a serious fight here. I wouldn’t even be surprised if she eventually causes him to lose his special visa. 

         Overall, Harry hides behind his wife like a beard or shield protecting him from the press’s glaring lens. He lets her do and say whatever she thinks is great so he can keep plotting his own plans. He allows her to take the fall, look stupid, pull stunts people can see through, etc. for a reason. He isn’t completely sure he can make it in his new California life. He knows he can’t if he keeps her for too long, but he also knows he needs an exit strategy in case it blows up. So, he pins the press to attack her as the true culprit. If they split and he has to, he can return home and play the victim of her. If they split and he is doing okay in Hollywood, she can be the reason he plays victim to big named people like Oprah and Gayle. 

         I can see it now. An Oprah Special with Harry tonight on Apple +. Something cheesy or corny that is almost plagiarism. Like Narcissus and the Prince or something. Watch. Mark my words. Oprah talking to Harry about surviving the marriage while trying to rescue two small kids, being in the spotlight as a Royal while being gaslit by a narcissistic wife… yes I can see the green screen set up now.

         I know this is difficult to digest, but I do ask you to try. While his wife is not innocent, she clearly is guilty for her own part indeed, his wife isn’t the true problem. The true problem here is a man who has a serious issue with living in the shadow of his future-King father and future-King brother, and his future-King nephew, that he has chosen to use the same exact attack model his own mother used to merch and marginally disrupt the institution that made her a star. Harry and his mother both wanted the entire spotlight, but both knew they could never have it the way they wanted it. So, they wrote their own victimhood narrative.

         And here we are now. Mark my words. Harry will keep pushing until those remaining titles are removed by them forcing the hands of Parliament and the Queen. Or, they’ll push and push in the press so much the outrage and hypocrisy will leave them no other option but to renounce and re-gift those titles and rights to the line of succession. That is what he wants, even if his missus doesn’t. Also make no mistake about it. Harry is the real Diana 2.0 wannabe, not his wife. Keep an eye out. I have this gnawing feeling that soon enough, there will be plenty leaks from the wife about the husband. She won’t go quietly into the Beverly Hills… but neither will he.

[neonacity]

LUCID | NCT DREAM ‘00 LINE X READER | CH.3

LUCID DREAMS - A TYPE OF DREAM WHEREIN THE PERSON IS AWARE THAT THEY ARE CAUGHT IN A DREAM WORLD.

Summary: It was supposed to be a harmless, professional transaction. You were to tutor a group of boys, get your pay at the end of the day, and go home to your loving fiance. Kids aren’t supposed to be dangerous, right? So why, then, are you caught up in a web of madness that slowly makes you feel like you’re in a living nightmare?

A/N: Third chapter is here! Again, thank you to all those who are supporting the story. Once again, this is a yandere plot featuring NCT Dream ‘00 line which means there will be mature themes in the story as well as obsessive, toxic behavior. If you’re a minor, please refrain from interacting. If this isn’t your thing, then just scroll and skip. In no way am I condoning anything written here— this is not love, this is obsession—nor do I think that any of the people mentioned here will act any way like in this story. This is purely a work of fiction.

Genre: yandere, horror, suspense

TW: abuse, obsessive behavior, toxic relationships, suggestive scenes, stalking, possible kidnapping, mental health. Age gap–though nothing dramatic. Everyone is of legal age. Creepy, creepy, creepy! This will be updated as the story goes along.

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

“Insane madness of the living can be more, more terrible than the bloody hunger of the undead...”

― Silvia Liam

The rules of hunting down prey are simple. First, you observe to take note of their weakness, then you stalk...waiting for the right opportunity to take your shot. Hunting is more often about a game of time than aim sometimes. You jump too soon and you risk scaring your target to a successful escape, or you do it too late that you let them fully slip through your grasp. Hunting... has always been about perfect timing.

"You already know the rules of the game, right boy?"

The frail form of a seven year old child cowered against the foot of a dead tree, eyes shaking as it regarded the man leering at him. The sky was a deep dark velvet above them, and the only source of light came from the full moon that dipped in and out between the passing clouds. A bell dingled from the tight chain strapped around his left ankle when he moved, the sound causing the smile on the man's face twist into a wicked grin.

The hum of a gun being cocked sent the boy to give a choked sob. He shakily tried to stand up from his spot and pressed his palm against the rough bark of the tree to support himself, his wide eyes set on the looming form that has taken a step closer to where he stood.

"It's the first sturgeon moon tonight, so we are going to change the rules a little bit, okay?" Those words only made the child shake harder, the thin shirt he had now clinging to him like second skin due to the cold sweats gripping him.

"You run. And if I catch you, you die," the man cooed as he craned his face a bit to the side, causing the light from the moon to illuminate his features briefly. He looked handsome, inhuman, like he was one of the fallen souls exiled to earth at the beginning of times.

The man moved the arm holding his hunting gun and used it to lift the chin of the boy still cowering in front of him. He smiled—a smile so beautiful and dangerous it can make angels weep.

"But if you die, then your brothers will be the one running in this forest to take your place. So...make sure I don't catch you, hmm?"

Tears finally streamed down the bruised cheeks of the child as he realized what he was up to tonight. Eyes wide with fear, he pushed himself off the tree he was leaning on and started making a run for it.

He could still hear his words even as he dove deep into the woods, the bell on his feet masking his thundering footsteps.

"Seven bullets! You have one minute to hide, son~!"

Gunshots pierced the night air like a wailing scream.

------

Bang!

Jeno lowered his hunting rifle and let go of his breath slowly. Despite the shadows cast by the towering trees surrounding him, his eyes could still clearly see the slight flailing of the fawn he just shot before it went completely still. Above him, a flock of crows looked down on the fallen prey with their beady eyes, as if gauging the best time to dive for their feast.

He slowly picked himself up from his hiding spot, a wide oak tree with overarching branches that hid him from sight. He's been crouched there for a good half hour or so, just waiting for the fawn to finally circle the area. He's been observing it for the past week or so, taking note of its routes, and today he decided to make the kill.

Unlike other hunters, Jeno prefers the thrill that comes with stalking his prey over simply making a successful game. For him, the fun of hunting is in the process and not in its ending—a kill , after all, means nothing if you didn't work hard for it.

He looked down on the small fawn now as it lay lifeless on the mossy forest ground with its glassy eyes still open. Leaning over, he lightly pressed his hand over it to feel its heartbeat just to check if he killed it properly.

It was so beautiful and graceful just prancing in the forest a few days ago….it would be a shame if it suffers now.

"Hey, you got it?" A voice from the edge of the clearing made him look around. Haechan emerged from between the trees, his own hunting rifle slung over his shoulder.

"Yup. What did you get?"

The other boy lifted a brown sack and gave it a light shake.

"Got three rabbits. I'm too lazy to skin them here so I'll just ask Taeyong-hyung to do it. Want to go back now?"

Jeno turned to look back at the fawn in front of him briefly before finally shaking his head. He didn't really want to go back to the mansion yet, so he decided to just throw an excuse to the other for now.

"You go ahead. I'll just skin it right here," he said casually over his shoulder at his brother. Haechan, too cold and too bored to stay another minute in the humid woods, gave a wave of his hand before turning back. Unlike Jeno, he prefers the comforts and luxuries of the manor over anything else.

"I'll go ahead then. Try to get back before nightfall, the forest can be a dangerous place~" he said in a sing-song voice, knowing full well it was a useless warning he just gave.

Jeno simply ignored him and silently pulled his skinning knife from his belt so he could get to work. Nights in the forest have never scared him, he knew it like the back of his hand.

If anything, it is the creatures there who should be terrified of him.

------

You glanced over at Jisung and Chenle who were currently immersed in their readings over the page you’ve been scanning. The sun is about to set in just a few minutes and you have the last session of the day scheduled for the pair before you could pack up and go home. Your lips slightly quirked into a smile as you watched Jisung lean over slightly into the other to silently ask about something, Chenle looking up from his pages to roll his eyes before patiently answering. The two have such different personalities from each other, which adorably and ironically, makes them work so well together.

If you're going to be honest with yourself now, you'd say it is your time with the two youngest that you enjoy the most as Rosewood's tutor. Chenle and Jisung were withdrawn and shy at first, but the pair slowly started warming up to you as time went by. Maybe it's because they are younger, but you prefer the innocent air around them every time you would have your lessons. Chenle is the chattier and the more confident of the two, but with his help, even the shy Jisung also started lightly joking around with you on his best days.

That's not to say that you hate your time with the rest of the brothers. You've only ever had one session with Mark—which went so well as expected from the eldest—while the rest have always been polite and casual. There isn’t really anything about your job and connection with any of the boys that should put you on edge and yet... you have to admit that there are still those rare moments when you just feel as if something is out of place. You couldn't really place your finger on it, nor have you blatantly caught anything suspicious, but sometimes you just feel odd whenever you are around any of the four middle children. It’s something similar to being watched...like there is an imaginary pair of eyes always pinned to the back of your head, or the ghost feeling of hands hovering around your throat.

Your eyes flickered now to the grand clock on the far side of the room which finally struck five. Closing your own book which you have been scouring over, you called out towards the two who quickly looked up from their work.

"Alright, time's up. Have you answered the first two questions at least?" You asked with a smile. Chenle groaned and pointed at Jisung accusingly.

"I only got three questions because he kept disturbing me, noona."

Jisung frowned and you had to keep your laugh back with how offended he looked.

"Hey, I wasn't disturbing you. I was just asking questions."

"Okay, okay. Don't fight now. Do you want an extension for the chapter quiz? We do have our next lesson the day after tomorrow."

Their faces simultaneously lit up.

"Can we do that?" Chenle asked.

"Yes, but I'll have to leave you the assignment of reading another chapter and finishing the questionnaire for that as well. That'll be your homework, okay?" You tried your best to put on your best impression of a stern look, which only made the two giggle.

"Okay, noona."

"You promise you'll do it?"

Jisung put up his right hand and placed his left one over his heart.

"We promise."

That made you chuckle. "Well then, that will be all for today. I'll see you again tomorrow, okay? I'll have lessons with your brothers but just come to me if you have any questions." You gathered the rest of the papers that you have sprawled on the desk you were using before waving the two goodbye.

You were in the middle of trying to fit in a rather stubborn pile of files on your bag that you didn't really notice the tall figure that entered from the front door. When you finally looked up, it was already too late for you to stop crashing straight first into someone's chest, if not for the strong hands that held you steady. You felt an arm settle on your waist, and another on your back as you almost toppled when you hastily stepped back.

"Oh! I am so sorr—" you looked up with wide eyes to see Jeno looking down on you. Your words died in your throat when your eyes caught the red stain on his neck and you gasped.

"Jeno, what happened?!" Your voice raised in panic as you stared wide eyed at the blood running down the side of his neck. He gave you a slight look of confusion before raising a hand to touch the area you've been staring at.

"Ah… this…"

You didn't wait for him to finish. Quickly, you grabbed his hand and turned on your heels to drag him to the opposite direction. You didn't look back to see his surprised expression, and before he could even say anything, you had already pushed him into one of the expansive bathrooms down the nearest hallway.

"Sit there."

You pushed him urgently on the closed toilet seat before you proceeded to rummage on the hidden compartment behind the mirror that Taeyong showed you before. You quickly grabbed the box of first aid kit there and hastily opened an antiseptic wipe.

"Uhm...noona…"

You didn't pay him any attention, too focused on what you needed to do. You quickly kneeled in front of him so that you were more eye-level with each other before finally pressing the damp wipe against his injury.

"Shh. This might sting a little. We have to see how deep your wound is and stop the bleeding," you said, a small frown creasing your brows as your fingers gently dabbed at his skin. You were so focused on what you were doing that you didn't notice the light in his eyes shift as he looked at you closely. 

His gaze dropped to your slightly parted lips, then at the look of concentration on your features.

Are you...worried about him?

Your frown deepened as you finally managed to wipe most of the blood away from his skin. The antiseptic sheet you were using has already turned dark red from the liquid, but still you haven't—

"It's not my blood," Jeno said plainly, his voice suddenly sounding too close to you. You looked up to him in confusion, and for the first time you realized how close the two of you were. His gaze didn't waver from your face, pinning you into the spot where you are kneeling in front of him.

"Not your…"

"I was hunting. I was skinning the game I caught but my hand slipped and I hit a major vein. This is deer blood."

If your face wasn't burning after realizing how close the two of you were at the moment, it is definitely on fire now. You opened your mouth to say something, then closed it again in embarrassment. Jeno continued staring at you and you watched as his lips ever so slightly curled into a smirk.

That made you suddenly stand up from your crouch. He calmly followed you with his gaze, a mix of curiosity and amusement in his brown eyes.

"I-I'm so sorry. I thought you were injured so I panicked," you stuttered as your eyes fell on the bloody wipe that is still on your hands. You quickly ducked to throw it away just so you could avoid his gaze.

Jeno followed your every move closely before slightly leaning his head to the side. He seems to be mulling over something, face now devoid of any telling emotions.

"Were you concerned about me?" He asked, tone curious. You glanced at him in surprise, stunned that he would ask such a question. It was bad enough that you stumbled over your words when you finally managed a reply.

"Of course I was concerned. Anyone would be."

Jeno slowly stood up from where he sat and for the first time, you realized just how much he towered over you. It didn't help that the two of you were in a much smaller space than usual which sent a wave of claustrophobia to wash you over briefly. You involuntarily took a step back, eyes only high enough to meet the base of his neck.

"Why though?" He asked again, and you could genuinely hear the curiosity in his tone. You frowned. He was asking...as if he isn't used to such a level of care. As if things like this are so foreign to him.

"Because you are my student. And I wouldn't want to see anyone hurt."

For a moment, Jeno didn't say anything else. He simply looked at you while you tried so hard not to flinch under his heavy gaze.

Then, as if a switch had been turned, he took a step to the side to free some space between the two of you. Your eyes shot to his face when he did that, and you were met by his boyish smile that crinkled his eyes into half moons.

That made you blink. You see it on him whenever he is with the rest of his brothers, but it was the first time he ever smiled that way to you.

"Thank you, noona. I appreciate it."

It was as if a blockage in your throat dissolved all of a sudden. You smiled back, a sense of relief overtaking you.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sorry I panicked, too."

"It's cute. Nobody has ever…" he trailed off before shrugging. "I guess, it's because we're all men here. So none of us are used to that kind of care."

You nodded slowly at that. It really must be hard...being in this kind of household. Now that you think about it, the boys are technically orphans.

"Anyway, I have to go. I need to get back before dark. I'm not really a big fan of night drives," you said as you picked up the bag you had haphazardly thrown into the sink in your panic earlier. Jeno simply watched you silently from where he stood.

"Make sure to be careful next time alright? Don't give anyone a heart attack again," you smiled before finally excusing yourself out. He smiled back and gave a nod of goodbye as you closed the door.

Jeno turned to the mirror in front of him and slowly touched the part of his neck where your fingers grazed earlier. It was cold now from the antiseptic you had rubbed, but he could still remember how good the warmth of your touch felt against his skin when you were trying to wash the blood away. He curled his fingers slightly over the area now, leaving half moon marks as his nails dug there.

Oh what he would do to have you touch him again.

-------

"Pretty neat, huh?" You grinned at Jaehyun as he parked the car in front of the manor. You watched as your boyfriend's eyes moved over the impressive facade of the structure in front of him, knowing full well that his architect training is kicking in.

"Not bad. Victorian-era, probably. The stones look old but the place looks pretty well-kept…"

You grinned to yourself now as you leaned back on your seat. Of course you have absolutely no reason to be proud of something you don't own, but you can't help but boast a little at your boyfriend. It is your workplace after all.

Jaehyun turned to his seat now to give you a slightly guilty smile. He sighed before reaching out for your hand.

"Are you sure you will be okay though? I'm sorry about borrowing your car all of a sudden, the timing is just so bad."

You gave his hand a squeeze before patting it with your other. He was supposed to go on a three day business trip away from the city when his car, all of a sudden, just wouldn't start this morning. He wouldn't make it if he waits for the shop to fix it so the both of you decided to just have him use yours for now. At least he has enough time to drive you to work, which is why the two of you now are parked outside the manor, 10 minutes before your first lesson has to start.

"Don't worry about it. I'll make sure to pick up your car later. I'll have the taxi drive me there."

Jaehyun glanced back at the mansion briefly.

"Are you sure you can get a taxi here though? This is pretty far off the main road…"

Well...to be honest, you weren't even really sure about that yourself but he didn't have to worry about it right now. You nodded and reached over for your bag with a smile.

"Yes. Or I'll just ask Taeyong for help if I can't get one. I'm pretty sure they have some taxi companies in contact."

Jaehyun still didn't look convinced but gave you a small nod nevertheless. His eyes were back to studying the house again which made you chuckle.

"Jae, I'll be fine. You have to go now or you'll be late to your conference. Thanks for driving me here," picking up the last of your things, you leaned over to give him a quick peck on the cheeks. He responded by pulling you over for a slightly longer kiss when you tried to move away.

"Yah, Jung Jaehyun. We'll both be late if you don't stop," you whispered softly with an amused tone. He laughed before finally letting you pull back.

"Just getting my fill of it since I won't see you in three days. Call me once you get home later, okay?"

"Mmn. Take care, too. Go get that deal closed," you gave him a wink before finally opening the passenger seat. You watched as he finally pulled away from the driveway and waited until he disappeared again on the long winding road before turning towards the manor again. You were almost at the front steps when the doors finally opened, spilling Haechan, Renjun, and Jaemin out of them. You frowned slightly as you took notice of the canvases they were carrying as you approached the group.

"Hey...are you going somewhere? Class is about to start." You asked curiously, eyes landing finally on the small leather bag that Renjun was carrying. It seems to be full of art supplies.

"We're doing a free art class today, right noona?" The eldest of the trio asked. You nodded, still a bit confused.

"Renjun suggested we do it in the garden since the weather is nice today," Jaemin finally said. "We think it'll be a nice change from the stuffy rooms inside," he slightly jerked his head back at the wide windows of the manor which are currently shut back with thick curtains. You glanced at them briefly too before nodding slowly in understanding.

"Oh… I mean… It's not a bad idea. We can have the first session outside while the sun is still bearable, I guess."

That made Jaemin, and most especially Renjun smile. The boy can be withdrawn most of the time, but you did notice that he looks happiest whenever you do creative classes.

"Thank you, noona."

"No problem. I'll just put my bag inside and then I'll follow you. Why don't you set up your things first?"

You've taken a couple of steps towards the front door already when Haechan suddenly spoke up.

"Who was with you, noona?"

That froze you on your tracks. Slowly, you turned to face the trio again. They saw Jaehyun drive off?

"Oh, that was my boyfriend. He dropped me off today," you said casually with a smile. Haechan leaned his head a little bit to the side in curiosity.

"But he took your car…"

"Yes, he did. His broke down so he had to borrow mine. He's leaving for a three-day trip so—" you stopped all of a sudden, realizing that you're explaining things too much. There's nothing wrong about what you said but there was still a part of you that made you feel a little...exposed. Jaemin, Haechan, and Renjun, fortunately, didn't seem to notice and continued to politely look at you.

"Anyway, I'll just grab a cab to go home," you continued with a smile. "There are some who stop by here, right?"

"Yes. Or we can just ask Taeyong-hyung to drive you. He is the only one who has a license among us," Jaemin offered with a casual shrug.

"Ah, maybe I'll have to bother him this one time if I can't get a cab," you said with a sheepish smile. "Okay, I do have to bring my things inside. I'll see you."

You have already reached the top of the steps before the double doors when you finally realized something. Quickly you turned to the three boys who were just about to disappear to the side of the house leading to the manicured gardens.

"Wait, where's Jeno?"

It was Jaemin who answered.

"Oh yeah. He can't come. He is on bed rest."

You frowned.

"What happened?"

Haechan snickered which caused Renjun to shoot him a reprimanding look.

"He got into a hunting accident," the boy explained as he barely tried to keep his lips from twitching with amusement. "He was foolish enough to get stabbed in the chest by a stag."

-----

You gave the oak wood door a few light taps before drawing your hand back to yourself. You still weren't sure if this is a good idea, and yet here you are standing outside Jeno's room, the expansive hallway making you feel too small and out of place. This is the first time you've been in this part of the mansion since you only ever roamed the lower floors for your classes, and you couldn't help but feel a little strange at the heaviness of the air clinging around you now.

Maybe it's because it is where the private quarters of the boys are, but the corridor was only slightly illuminated by dimmed lighting from the lamps on the walls. Everything was silent, and for a moment you wondered if you got the wrong door that Taeyong gave directions to when you told him you wanted to check on Jeno. You have already taken a step back and was about to turn away when you heard some rustling from inside the room. It was followed by a voice muffled by the thick wood separating you from the other side of the door.

"Come in."

You froze on your spot for a few seconds before finally managing to shake yourself to open the door before you slowly. Peering around it, the first thing you noticed was how big the room was—it looked more like a smaller section of a house than a private quarters. It was dark, but a quick look at it told you that it was mostly bare if you don't count the essentials, which is a simple desk by the side, a long couch, and, in the middle, a four poster bed.

Your eyes landed on Jeno who was looking at you with equal mild surprise. He was propped against the headboard of his bed, the light from the laptop on his lap illuminating his face. You noticed that he didn't have a shirt on, but most of his skin from the right shoulder down to his chest was covered by bandages.

"Hi," you smiled, suddenly feeling conscious now as you stepped into his room.

"Um. Hi. What are you…"

"I heard that you were injured so I just dropped by to check on you," you quickly answered to diffuse any awkwardness that is in danger of settling between the two of you. Jeno blinked, as if processing what you just said.

"Uh… sorry, I didn't realize that I might be disturbing you. I can also just go back another time and—"

"No," He said all of a sudden before you could excuse yourself. Quickly, he closed his laptop and put it away on his side. "You can stay for a bit."

"Oh...great. I uh…" your eyes roamed around his room once again, hoping to find a chair that is closer to his bed. There was none. You figured the couch was the only place you could go to so you started walking towards it, Jeno's eyes on you.

"You can sit here," he suddenly said and you looked up to see him pointing at the foot of his bed. That made you stop before glancing again at the couch at the farther side of his room, something which he immediately noticed.

"It's too far away. It'll be awkward for us to talk if you sit there,” he said, as if he read your mind. 

That...makes sense. With a slight nod, you closed the distance between you and the bed instead and chose to sit by its far end.

Jeno was back to watching you as you settled down, his expression curious. You softly cleared your throat.

"How are you feeling?"

He glanced down his chest briefly. "Oh, I'm fine. It didn't hurt as much during the weekend, but I was still told to stay in bed. I can't really move that much yet."

"What happened anyway?"

He scratched the back of his head almost sheepishly and looked away.

"I was trying to hunt a deer. I didn't know its mate was just around the area when I approached it so...yeah."

You winced as your eyes fell on his bandaged chest. You know next to nothing about hunting, but you know enough that an angry stag doesn't spell good news for anyone. Things could have been more serious for him.

"Are you sure that you shouldn't be in the hospital though?"

"Yes. We have a private doctor anyway. I just need to make sure I don't move too much to keep my wound from opening. And I also hate hospitals so I prefer to stay here…"

"You have to be more careful next time, okay Jeno? The forest is such a dangerous place…" you sighed before shifting your attention towards the window at the far wall of his room. He only had his curtains partially open but you could still see a sliver of the woods from where you sat.

Something about what you said shifted something in him. You missed it entirely thanks to the shadows from the room's dim lighting that masked his features, but it was there, hiding in plain sight.

"You take care of us so well."

You turned to him again as you heard him whisper something.

"What?"

Jeno simply smiled. He leaned back against the headboard, as if mulling over something.

"Since noona is worried about me, can you help me change my bandages?"

You blinked. That wasn't something you expected him to ask at all. Before, you figured Jeno to be one of the more withdrawn among the brothers, always with this air of intimidation about him, but lately, he has been throwing you off with these kinds of moments. He isn't flirty like Jaemin or sly and playful like Haechan, but he’s just so...direct. Almost pushy, sometimes. 

"I uhm… I don't know. I wouldn't know how to do it, maybe I can call someone and—"

You watched as he already started to undo the bandages on his torso, your eyes growing wide as he started to expose more skin.

"Jeno wait, I think we should call Taeyong for thi—oh my god."

Your words were cut off when he finally let the last of the bandages fall to reveal the cut on his torso. It started from his right chest, a few inches above the collarbone, and ran sideways to the middle where it cut off. Stitches held the skin together, and you could see the darkening sides of the flesh where it broke.

Yet it wasn't only that which caught your attention. Despite the dimness of the room, you could see other marks in his body, old scars that adorned his pale skin here and there. They varied in length and thickness, and you couldn't figure out what might have caused them. Were they from hunting accidents too…?

You immediately turned to look away. You didn't want to seem rude for staring. Jeno, however, seemed unbothered, if not mildly amused. Watching you through hooded eyes, he let you squirm for a little bit first before finally calling for your attention once more.

"Noona."

"Yes?"

"Help me, please?"

The tone he used on you finally made you turn with a slight wince, which only made him chuckle.

"You're not used to seeing injuries?"

"I'm not fond of them. I don't think anyone is."

“So let's get this over with then. I just need you to hold one side of the bandage for me while I wrap it again. It's hard when I do it alone."

You were about to open your mouth to say something again but chose to purse your lips after in the end. With a soft sigh, you finally picked yourself up from your spot by the foot of the bed to move closer to him. Jeno had already uncapped what looked to be a bottle of antiseptic at this point and had started to dab gently at his cut. You tried to watch without wincing too much as he tried to do the job, but it was probably too painful for him to move too much because he was missing a lot of it.

"Hey, just give me that. I'll do it," you asked as you gently took the cotton pad from him. Jeno wordlessly let you take it, eyes closely watching you as you ducked a little to clean his wound. You tried your best to keep your eyes on target, not allowing them to move anywhere else…

"It looks so bad… I'm surprised you can still move…" you whispered, more to yourself than to him as you frowned over it. You completely missed the way the corners of Jeno's lips ever so slightly tilted as your fingers brushed against his skin.

"Your fiance must have never gotten injured before, noona."

Your hand froze at what he said. Slowly, you looked up at him, only to see him smile at you.

"How did you…"

"Oh, Taeyong-hyung told us. He just reminded us to be nice to you or else you might quit. He said you are saving up for your wedding."

You didn't say anything at first after his explanation. There's nothing wrong about it, and it seems very in-character for Taeyong to say that since he seems to be the most worried about the possibility of you quitting. Still, you couldn't help the odd feeling that tugged at your chest, one you tried to shove back as you turned your attention again to what you were doing just so you could escape Jeno's gaze.

"Well… yes. I am saving up for it. But I also enjoy my time here… so far…"

Jeno smiled to himself as he looked down on you, eyes watching your every move.

"We'll behave too, we promise," he said softly that you almost didn't catch it.

"Until then, I'm sure your boyfriend wouldn't mind us borrowing you from him."  

----

"Jisung! Chenle! Don't run too far into the forest, okay?" Taeyong called out to the two boys who have already turned on their tails and have started running towards the woods. You watched as the two laughed and pushed at each other playfully before finally disappearing into the forest edge.

Taeyong sighed beside you and let the hands he had on his hips fall to his sides. You turned to him and he gave you an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry for suddenly asking you to watch over them. I totally forgot that I had to drive the rest to their dentist appointment today," he said with a scratch of his head. You simply shook a hand at him to wave him off.

"Don't worry about it. I don't have any other classes today anyway so I'll just wait here for them. But... uh... are you sure that it is safe for them to play there?"

"Yes. As long as they stay in the right zones. There are parts there where some wild animals might roam around this season but Jisung and Chenle already know that, don't worry. It won't be the first time they'll be going there too. They've been playing there since they were kids."

You nodded slowly, still a little bit unsure as your gaze floated over to the woods once more. If it were you, you wouldn't let them go near it, especially after what happened to Jeno.

"I'll have to go then. I promise I'll be back by 5. Then I can drive you back to town after."

You turned to look at Taeyong once more and gave him a grateful smile. You usually would have declined the offer under normal circumstances, but you honestly think it will be easier and safer for you to just have him take you back later.

"Thank you. I appreciate that."

The other nodded before giving you one last smile. Turning around, you watched him go to the car where Haechan, Renjun, and Jaemin were already waiting. Jeno was still in bed rest, so he is skipping the impromptu trip this time.

You only turned back to look at the woods ahead when you finally saw the black sedan disappear down the road. The forest looked foreboding in front of you, one look at it and you know there is no way you'll venture there in your own free will. With a sigh, you picked up the book you've brought with you and let yourself take a seat by the grass as you wait for Jisung and Chenle to return.

A sudden sharp caw that tore the air made you look up in surprise from the current chapter you were reading. You didn't have any idea how much time had already passed after you lost yourself in your book, but you were surprised to see that the sky had gone red over the horizon as a flock of crows soared from the depths of the forest. You watched as they circled just above the trees before finally disappearing far into the sky. That was when you realized it; it's been a while since Jisung and Chenle left.

With panic slowly creeping into your chest, you glanced at your watch then back at the mansion behind you. Taeyong didn't say anything about a curfew for the two kids, but your own sense told you that the pair should be back before night falls. Your gut told you that you should start looking for them, but the problem is that there is still more than half an hour left before Taeyong said they will return and the only other person left in the manor was Jeno—who can't even get out of bed. 

You swallowed. Before you could make any decision, however, a bone-chilling sound floated into the air that made your blood turn cold. It was faint at first, making you wonder if it was just your imagination playing tricks on you, but then it called out again, and you felt your heart drop to your stomach.

It was Chenle. Screaming.

You broke into a run without a second thought.

It took you everything you have not to topple over the uneven forest floor as you wove through the trees. You have no idea where you were going, your mind and vision reeling as you tried to follow the voice. Your skirt have caught countless times on shrubberies and wayward tree barks as you tore through the woods but you kept going, not minding the tears on the fabric and the skin of your legs.

"Chenle! Jisung! Where are you!"

You called out desperately when the cries suddenly stopped. You were only barely aware of your heart thundering in your chest and your lungs burning from overexertion.

No. No. Don't stop screaming. I can't find you if you do.

"Chenle! Jisung!" You called out again desperately as you stopped at the edge of what seemed to be a small patch of land that dropped off to a ravine. The trees beyond were denser than the ones at the edge of the forest and the already fading light of the day wasn't helping the thick canopies above you that rained shadows on where you stood. You looked around and swallowed thickly. Something inside of you told you to turn around and run again but you stayed frozen on your spot, waiting for any sound from the kids.

It took you a few more heartbeats to pick up something again. Jisung's voice sounded far off to your right, maybe about 15 meters from where you currently are.

"Noona! Help! Chenle fell down!"

Your adrenaline jumped into action again.

"Jisung?! Jisung! Wait—Is Chenle with you?” A soft voice called out and you breathed in as you recognized the latter's tone. “I'm coming! Don't stop calling for me, okay, so I can find you!"

You were about to turn away from the edge of the steep ravine you were still standing on when you felt your back hit something hard. Before you could even turn around to look at it, however, a blunt force hitting the middle of your shoulder blades sent you toppling forward, straight into the sharp fall beyond.

You screamed, before everything went quiet as your head hit the bedrock below.

---

A.N. GOD THIS WAS SO LONG IM SO GLAD IT IS FINALLY DONE.

Taglist:  @negincho,  @jhornytrash, @jaeminhyuckiii, @jungwoosswhore, @jsturkey​, @aj--7, @pukupukupawpau​, @tomiesgirlfren​, @vsszn

CHAPTER 4

[gale-gentlepenguin]

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 34

Man these parts are getting harder and harder to churn out. A lot of plot points converging and real life ramping up. Hopefully you all enjoy this. Please comment your thoughts on the chapter. And if you really liked it, Reblog it. Thats the best way to get others to see it. Also, Please let me know your thoughts. Your comments fuel me.

(Master Post)

_____________________________________________________________

Masquerade surveyed the classroom. Her former classmates now her masked servants. It was fitting how they were all silent. Before, they listened to her because she told them exactly the things they wanted to hear, now they listened because she had power over them. It was kind of poetic in a way.

She looked across the classroom, she realized that there seemed to be more people missing than she initially realized.

“We are missing someone. Aside from Marinette, who is missing?”

The controlled classmates looked amongst themselves. Trying to figure out who was the one that was not in the class.

“Is it Chloé?” Miracular inquired, trying to answer her master’s request.

The akuma looked around.

“Huh… Oh yea, she isn’t here. Well she isn’t important. I was thinking someone else.” Masquerade answered. She looked to her most recently made akuma servant.

The Bubbler, the akumatized version of Nino stood motionless. As if he was not registering what was going on.

“Bubbler? Do you know who is missing?”

The multicolored akuma said nothing. Not even looking in the direction of the mask maiden.

“Bubbler! I order you to answer me!” She commanded with fiery rage.

The akuma turned to face his master, now responding.

“Adrien is missing.” The bubbler answered, his voice robotic and as emotive as a speak and spell.

“So, Adrien isn’t in the room. What a shame. I was planning on turning him into my handsome little knight.”

Masquerade thought for a moment.

Has Adrien been akumatized? Lila wasn’t sure she had ever seen or heard about him getting akumatized. She knew that the class had pretty much gotten hit at least once or twice at some point from what she had heard and read from the ladyblog. But if that goody-goody Marinette hadn’t been akumatized, Adrien likely hadn’t been akumatized either.

“Alright my servants! We have a new mission. I want you to lock this school down! No one is allowed in or out. Anyone you find, bring them to me. If they can be akumatized, then they are joining our cause.”

“Time breaker. Guard the perimeter outside of the school. Anyone outside of Ladybug and Chat noir trying to get in. Tag them, but only if they are suspicious of what’s going on. Stay hidden otherwise.”

“Timebreaker nodded and began skating out of the room in a rush.

“Horrificator, once Timebreaker is outside, seal all the exits in the main building.”

The masked monstress nodded and sped out of the room.

“Dark Cupid, Stoneheart, Princess Fragrance, Miracular and Reflekta. I want you to split up check all of the rooms and bring me potential akumas.”

The five akuma nodded and made their way out the door.

“Gamer and Robostus. I want you to hack into the airwaves. I want access to every Electric device in Paris when I give you the signal. But make sure to be subtle. I don’t want anyone to know about us until I tell you.”

The two nod and start working to get that ready for her.

She focuses her attention to the bubble making akuma that was giving her problems earlier.

Considering how hard it was to break him down, it was understandable. She had saved him for last for a reason. Because he was the hardest one to crack.

He was a relatively calm individual, able to keep a level head. But even he had his weakness. His confidence. Once that was shaken, seeing his entire class taken, knowing his girlfriend was under her control, he couldn't resist another moment. In a way, it was the most satisfying charm on her bracelet.

“Now Bubbler, you are going to go and locate Marinette and Adrien for me. Put them in a bubble and bring them to me. Help that girlfriend of yours.”

The bubbler nodded yes despite severe shaking. Seems even now he is trying to resist the control of the mask.

“Troublesome, but it is only temporary. He will break soon enough.” Masquerade mused to herself.

She looked at the near empty room with contempt. This was hardly a place where she could exact her vengeance. It was so… lame. Though a thought occurs as she realized who she had left standing at attention without orders.

“Evillustrator, I have a special request for you.”

________________________________________________________

“What is this?” Chloé screeched. “My daddy bought me the best phone plan in the city. How can I not have service right now?!”

The nurse felt a chill run down her spine. Could the akuma block out phone signals? Is that why there is no attention being given to the school? How could they call for help? How would anyone know of the akuma attack? Would Ladybug and Chat noir be able to help them?

The nurse started to feel herself going pale, she was just supposed to be a school nurse. Worst thing she needed to deal with was a scraped knee or give a kid an ice pack. Now she has a woman that collapsed on the bed and an akuma that is somewhere in the school. She had just moved to Paris a few months ago. It was her dream to live in the city of love, get her career going, find a nice guy, and just live the good life. But no one told her that supervillain attacks would be so personally connected to her situation? She had heard about this crap in New York and in America. But Paris? It was too much. What if Ladybug and Chat noir didn’t fix everything? What if this was where her story ended. What if…

“Hey!”

The nurse turned to her attention to the voice. It was the brash blonde teen that was complaining.

“You look like you’re going to pass out. Just a heads up, I am not taking care of you.” Chloé commented.

Angela felt her face heat up with annoyance.

“Listen you brat. I don’t have time to deal with your attitude. I have a woman that is out cold from exhaustion in a building with a hostile akuma.”

“Good, at least you aren’t going to faint. I don’t need any more whinny women fainting on me”

The nurse paused, did the girl say that just to help her not succumb to the grim situation?

Chloé started making her way to the door.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“You already got your hands full with the annoying assistant. I need to make a call to daddy. So, I am going to head out the building and try there. Try not to get ripped apart by an akuma, I still need more ice when I get back.”

Angela blinked. This girl wasn’t scared of the akuma. She was actually going out to do something reasonable. If she could call for help, it would mean that this whole thing blows over.

“Okay, I’ll stay here. Be safe.”

“Yea whatever.”

Chloé headed out the door.

Angela felt a ghost of a smile grace her face.

‘Maybe that girl isn’t a complete brat after all.’

__________________________________________________

The shapeshifting sentimonster growled as it smacked the locker. It lost both primary targets. And worst of all, Ladybug appeared to make this even harder. Masquerade needed to hear about this.

“Master, Marinette and Adrien have escaped my sight.”

The sentimonster heard a sigh of disappointment from the other end.

“It is fine Simularé, They wont be able to escape the school anyway. They will be found soon enough. If anything, this is a blessing in disguise. Having them be the last targets will have them bare witness to how devasting it will all be.” Masquerade answered. “Any news on Ladybug and Chat noir?”

“That’s the other bad news. Ladybug arrived, I am assuming that’s how Marinette managed to escape, and ladybug also took Adrien away as well. No sign of chat noir. But if you know one is here, the other is likely soon to follow.”

There was a brief moment of silence, as masquerade mulled over the information she had received.

“Actually, that works out well for us. Meet up at my location, I have the other students out looking for them, I need your power for something more important.”

“Yes master.”

Simularé shifted back into its phantom form, moving quickly down the hallway to obey her master’s request.

Just as it left, Ladybug popped out of a nearby locker. Relieved it didn’t notice.

“That’s not good, Masquerade likely got everyone in the classroom.” The red heroine said aloud.

She activated her communicator and tried to contact chat noir. But there was no sound.

“Damn it. No signal. Lila likely cut the communication as soon as she realized it.?”

“No worries Buggaboo, I happen to be on site.” A voice called out.

Chat noir jumped out of another locker to reveal he was there.

Ladybug felt a bit of relief at her partner’s appearance. She could tell he felt the same. Better a situation with two heroes.

“Been here the whole time?” The spotted heroine asked her cat crimefighting comrade.

“Just arrived a few minutes ago, I figured something was up, so I decided to take a quick peek. Cat curiosity and all that.”

“And you assumed it was with Collège Françoise Dupont?”

“It seemed like a solid guess.”

“Considering the track record, that is reasonable.” Ladybug conceded.

“Ever wonder why it is always this school and never any of the other schools? Paris is a big city. You would think Hawkmoth would decide to branch out to the other schools in the city.” Chat noir inquired as they started walking down the hall.

“I assumed its just a coincidence.”

“Shot in the dark, maybe he has a kid that goes here. He is pretty old” Chat noir dissed.

“I can’t imagine anyone that would want to date Hawkmoth.” Ladybug joked.

“What about the blue lady? She seemed crazy enough.”

“And now that image is burned in my mind. Thanks kitty.” Ladybug sarcastically commented. “Despite the mental scarring, I am glad you got here. Seems a repeat offender got herself an upgrade in the akuma powers department.”

“Lila.”

“How did you know?”

“I was reading the ladyblog, Alya did great work on that article.” Chat noir praised. He mentally applauded his quick thinking.

“Right, kind of the reason I felt the need to keep an eye on this place. But sadly, I was too slow.” Ladybug responded a tad gloomy.

“Hey, don’t sweat it. We will finish this akuma before lunch.”

Ladybug heard a footstep from the end of the hallway.

“Get down!”

Ladybug tackled the cat hero down. Just narrowly avoiding a neon pause symbol, which now suck on the wall.

“Looks like Lila has been busy.” Chat noir noted as he turned his face to the direction of the attacker.

Ladybug looked at the akuma. The white mask covering her friend’s face. Lady Wifi was back.

“Alya…”

The two heroes got into a fighting stance and prepared to take down this controlled akuma.

________________________________________________

The halls were empty and lifeless as the two visiting teens made their way cautiously down the halls.

“Oddly quiet in here.” The fencer commented. “What do you think Luka?”

“Well last time we entered a place with an akuma in it, it was brimming with armored minions. Maybe this akuma has more stealth?” The Musician commented. “So, I don’t think you will be fighting as directly as you are use to Kagami.”

Kagami nodded at that, not exactly happy or sad regarding that remark. Her plan was to see if she could help her friends get out of the building, grab her textbook, and get out. She wasn’t really that interested in fighting a superpowered foe at this moment in time.

The two ceased speaking when they heard approaching footsteps.

“Someone’s coming.” Luka noted.

The two duck into the nearest room.

The two stayed close to the door as they listened to the sound of the approaching figure.

Kagami dropped to the floor silently as to check and see if she could get a visual.

She could only see what appeared to be costume boots of a larger figure. Which made the expert fencer believe it was not friendly.

The figure stopped, looking at the door. The two teens felt their neck hairs stand on edge as they did their best not to make a sound.

After what felt like an eternity, the figure passed the door without checking. Once the sound of his footsteps could no longer be heard, they let out a sigh of relief.

“That was way too close for comfort.”

“Agreed. I would prefer a direct confrontation next time, much less nerve-racking. “

The two carefully open the door and exit the room.

“Seems we found the akuma.” Luka commented. “Now we just need to avoid it and.”

“You mean akumas.” Kagami corrected.

“Akumas?”

Kagami tilted the boys head to look in the same direction she was looking, and sure enough she saw a rather large rock like creature walking the halls.

“Oh… well that is bad.”

Kagami pushed him back into the room and closed the door. Locking it before the rock giant could notice them.

“I’m surprised.”

“By the fact there is an 8-foot-tall rock beast outside?”

“No, by the fact you didn’t try to fight it.”

“I don’t have a weapon.” Kagami replied flatly.

Luka raised a brow at the comment, unsure if the fencer was serious or not about fighting that thing if she had a foil.

“Is something wrong?” A third voice came from behind them.

The two teens turned around, preparing for the worst. Though they were relieved to see it was just an old janitor… in a Hawaiian shirt. Despite his odd dress, he did give off a kind aura. One of a trusting old grandpa.

They noticed that the room seemed to be a sort of teacher’s lounge, with a small counter with a sink and cabinets. As well as a fridge to keep food cold and stored. A place in the school where teachers would come to get a quick coffee or store their lunch.

“Oh good, you aren’t an akuma.” Luka sighed with relief.

“An akuma?” The old man asked.

“Yes, it is very dangerous out there right now. There are multiple villains outside. I would recommend staying put while we go out there and help handle things.” Kagami explained.

“Quite bold of you to go out there against those monsters.” The man responded.

“Don’t worry, we will be careful. We just need to make sure we can get as many people out as we can so Ladybug and Chat noir won’t need to worry.”

“Ah, how selfless of you. You both seem quite capable for ones so young.”

“You’re very kind, but we are just doing what we can. Our friends are out there and they need our help.”

Kagami goes to the door. Checking to ensure the coast is clear again.

The old man pats the musician’s shoulder.

“I am sure you two will figure a way to help your friends.”

“There are too many outside this room.” Kagami grumbled. If only I had a way to fight them.”

The mysterious janitor smiled.

“Say… I did happen to see Ladybug earlier.”

The two teens turned their attention to the old man.

“You did?” they asked in unison.

“Yes, she happened to drop something while rushing. Would you two be so kind as to return them to her when you see her.”

The two of them glance at each other and shrug. The old janitor might be senile.

“Sure… We can give it to her.” Luka assured the old man, trying to remain polite.

The old man moves to a closet, where out of view of the two teens, an elaborate chest with the symbol of the guardian’s decorates the top. He quickly gets two smaller boxes and closes the closet.

“Ah! Here they are.”

He hands the two a small box each. Their eyes go wide.

“They seemed important, so I didn’t want to just leave them on the floor. But I have a feeling you two will take good care of them.”

The two teens were engrossed by the boxes in their hands. They recognized them immediately. These were the boxes Ladybug used when handing out miraculous.

“Where did you find…?” Kagami tried to question, but noticed the old man was no longer there.

“He’s gone…”

“Actually, I am over here.”

The teens look in the opposite direction they were looking in order to see him at the end of the room getting a snack from the fridge.

The duo decided that maybe this old guy wasn’t all there after all and figured it would be best to go somewhere and utilize the ‘gift’ they were just given.

“Stay in the lounge where it’s safe okay?” Luka asked politely.

“Of course. I am not paid if I am not working.”

The two teens checked the door again, and once the coast was clear. They both slipped out of the room.

After he knew they were out of sight, the old man chuckled.

“The senile routine works every time.”

“Master, you really cut it close with that one.” A small turtle creature exclaimed as he popped out from the closet.

“The universe works in mysterious ways Wayzz. What are the odds that there would be an attack on the school the very day I decide to hide out as a janitor?”

“Considering the frequency of akuma attacks, very likely.”

“True, but how about running into two individuals that Marinette had picked to be heroes.” Fu followed up.

“That is quite a coincidence.”

The guardian pulled out his phone and noticed he didn’t have a signal.

“It seems I can’t get a signal to notify her of the reinforcements I sent her way. Likely it would be the same on her end. So, it is a good thing I acted in advance.”

Fu moved to the closet where he kept the miraculous.

“I can’t help but shake the feeling Ladybug and Chat noir will need all of the help they can get.

“Don’t worry master, I am sure Ladybug and Chat noir will be successful.

“Let us keep an eye on things. They might need another ally to turn the tide.

________________________________________________________

“I am guessing you are also familiar with what’s inside here?” Kagami inquired as the two stealthily moved in the hall.

“I may be familiar with it.” Luka commented.

Kagami contemplated the statement. She figured out the truth.

“Seems we both have used a miraculous then?”

“It appears we have. Though I am not sure Ladybug will be thrilled that someone knows I have helped her.”

“I understand the sentiment. Though lets simply agree to keep it between us.” Kagami answered. “Friends do keep secrets like that if I’m correct.”

Luka smiled at the comment.

“Your secret is safe with me.” Luka assured.

“As is yours.”

The two found the locker room and quickly moved inside.

“Coast is clear.”

The two opened the boxes and as they did two magical creatures appeared in front of them.

A floating creature with multiple spikes appeared in front of the fencer, while another floating creature that resembled a cobra stood in front of luka.

“It is a pleasure to see you again Mistress Kagami.”

“It’s been too long, Longg.” Kagami smiled. Happy to see her kwami friend.

“Hello Luka, itssss been a while.” The snake kwami greeted.

“Happy to see you too Sass.” Luka fist bumped his kwami.

The kwamis stop and turn to see the other kwami there.

“Does Ladybug know about this?” They both ask in unison.

“We will inform her after. Right now, there is a lot of danger.” Kagami exclaimed. “Ladybug needs our help.”

The two kwami nod and prepare to fight.

“Consssider us accomplissses.” Sass answered.

The two teens put on the miraculous.

“Sass! Scales Slither.”

“Longg! Bring the storm”

The two teens transform into their heroic alter egos.

Kagami shifting into the dragon miraculous hero Ryuuko, and Luka changing into the Snake hero Viperion.

The two stop to glance at the other.

“So, what should I call you.” The snake hero asked curiously.

“Call me Ryuuko. And what about you mister snake?”

“Viperion is what I am going with.”

“Fitting.”

“As is yours.”

The two give a nod of comradery before making their way out of the locker room. They had to go help Ladybug.

__________________________________________________

Ladybug dashed across the hallway, avoiding pause symbols being flung at her by the conniving akuma.

She slid underneath one of the symbols and preformed a daring slide kick to knock Lady Wifi off balance.

While she was unstable, Chat noir charged and used his baton to make contact with her white mask. Believing it was the obvious weak point.

“Got it!” Chat noir exclaimed triumphantly. The strike of the staff knocking Ladywifi a good several meters. Before lying flat on her back.

“Wow, that is a tough mask. I thought for sure that was the weak point.” Chat noir commented.

Lady Wifi stood up robotically.

“There must be a way to snap her out of it. Unless Hawkmoth is learning from his mistakes.” Ladybug hypothesized as she got up from the ground.

“Well I got nothing.” Chat noir shrugged.

Another set of footsteps approaching caught the hero’s attention. The recognized the multicolored bubble maker the moment they saw him.

“Nino… You too?” Chat noir said under his breath.

The Bubble maker used his bubble wand to summon two large bubbles to capture the heroes. Bringing back flashbacks of their first encounter with the bubble akuma.

Chat noir and Ladybug expertly slide between the gaps of the attack, resulting in Lady Wifi getting hit with the large bubbles and being sent flying into the wall via bubble prison.

Chat noir lunged at the Bubbler, his quick pounce pinning him down before he could attack.

“Maybe I can destroy his mask with…”

“Wait Chat noir!” Ladybug called out.

Chat noir paused.

“What if your cataclysm doesn’t free him?”

“And then I am left without the power before a recharge.”

“Exactly. We need to hold off on using our powers right now.”

Chat noir wanted to save his friend. But he knew his partner was right. They needed to conserve their powers before facing Lila.

The Bubbler managed to get the cat hero off of him with a burst of strength. Knocking Chat noir to the ground.

Lady Wifi had gotten free from the bubble attack and was now blocking the other entrance.

Ladybug and Chat noir moved back to back, Ladybug facing the ladyblogger turned mindless akuma slave and Chat noir facing the akumatized DJ.

“Any ideas, Buggaboo?”

“Seems they can’t adapt. They are pretty much mindless slaves. Which makes sense since Lila wouldn’t want them to think for themselves.”

“So you’re saying their movements are simple.”

“Which means they are exploitable.”

Chat noir felt relief watch over him. He knew Ladybug had a plan.

_____________________________________________________

“EWWWW!” Chloé screeched in disgust. The front entrance to the school had been covered in a pink slime.

She wiped her hand on the cleanest section of wall she could find. This was not her day.

“What is with this nasty gross akuma? First, I can’t call Daddy to come and pick me up. I can’t even post about it! How will Ladybug know to save me? Or better yet, get me the bee miraculous so I can help her save the day?”

Chloé decided to try another exit, since she had no plans of sticking around without knowing if she was going to be given a miraculous or not. Plus, she did say she would call for help, and doing that would make her look good in potential hero points.

As she was walking, she bumps into something in the middle of the hall. Which was bizzare since the hall was clear.

“Ouch, right on my bruise. What the hell is…”

Chloé felt her anger shift to fear when she watched as the empty hall now contained a familiar akuma.

“Sabrina?”

The akuma turned to her, her face covered with a white face mask.

“Eww. Your akuma form looks even tacker than before.”

“Take potential akuma to master.” The akumatized Sabrina stated in an emotionless tone. Repeating the order, she had been given.

“Oh no you don’t! Sabrina, I order you to listen to me!”

The akuma ignored the blonde’s command and slowly walked towards her.

“Sabrina… I am warning you. I am going to yell at you over this later if you don’t stop right now.”

Chloé started slowly backing away. She wasn’t sure of what to do.

“Listen… if you stop right now… I’ll uh… let you take a pick of one of my old sweaters.” Chloé bargained, not intending to let her pick one of the ones she actually liked.

Chloé felt her hand touch the sealed door, and knew she was at the end of the hall. She was boxed in.

“This is so unacceptable.” Chloé stated, preparing to get captured. But a flash of Red and Black came out of nowhere and kicked the akuma hard to the wall.

“Ladybug! I knew you would like save me!” Chloé jumped and hugged her savior.

“Im not ladybug.” The heroine spoke.”

Chloé released the hug as she examined who her savior was.

“Who the hell are you?”

Chloé had never bothered to learn the names of any of the other miraculous heroes. She sometimes forgets chat noir’s name.

“Ryuuko.” The dragon heroine stated calmly, almost regretting saving Chloé.

“Did Ladybug send you? Cause it would have been better if she got me to help.”

Ryuuko decided to ignore Chloé’s comment.

“Now we need to leave before she… Where did she go?” Looking at the dented locker that no longer had an akuma lying on the ground.

Suddenly the akuma popped out of nowhere about to strike from above with her tonfa and steal Ryuuko’s powers, but was stopped when a small harp smacked her face.

“She appears to have invisibility.” A voice called out.

The two turn to see the snake hero as he caught his harp on the rebound.

Chloé took a moment to look over the snake hero. She had to admit, he was pretty cute. Not Adrien cute, maybe she would start learning the names of the other heroes.

“Quick thinking Viperion.” Ryuuko thanked the snake teen.

“Just following your lead.” Viperion responded. The two giving eachother a respectful smile. They both seemed to have gotten used to working together.

The akuma got up. Its white face mask making the akuma’s expression unreadable. But its body language exuded rage.

“Seems we aren’t going anywhere until she is taken care of.” Ryuuko said as she stared down the akuma.

Viperion turned to chloé.

“You need to go and get to safety.”

“Okay!” Chloé says as she runs off.

“How come she didn’t give you any sass?”

“Because I already have him.”

Kagami had to admit that was a clever response.

“Not what I meant, but Chat noir would love that joke.”

“I will be sure to tell him it later.”

“Stick to playing guitar. You’re a better musician than comedian.”

Before they could get off anymore banter. The akuma went for another attack.

________________________________________________________

Simularé entered Ms.Bustier’s classroom.

“I am here.” The ghostly sentimonster announced.

“Excellent.”

The sentimonster looked up to see that the classroom it was expeciting to see had been altered into what appeared to be a rather glamourous throne room. The windows covered by white curtains with the design of an akuma in black. The platforms and stairs had been altered to be marble. And at the top, where Lila’s desk once was was now a golden throne akin to something one would see in a castle. Though despite the impressive change in the classroom it was still being designed. The akuma known as the evillustrator was still creating more furnishings for the room.

“Simulare, I have an order for you.” Masquerade stated as she sat on the new throne. Clearly confident in her position.

The sentimonster approached her master. Stopping only a few feet away.

“I want you to create a mirage over the school. Since Ladybug is already in the school. It would be best if you made sure no one notices whats happening here. I don’t need any additional heroes popping in yet. Let’s handle her before making things public.”

Simularé nodded.

“Understood. But what should we do if she…”

“I have everything under control. Just follow my orders.”

Simularé ceased her questioning.

“As you wish master.”

The sentimonster shifted into her Volpina form and headed out of the classroom.

“She is getting arrogant in her power. If things do go south, I will need to step in.” Simularé said to herself. But for now, she knew she had a role to play.

_____________________________________________________________

And that ends part 34.

Seems things are REALLY heating up. Will Viperion and Ryuuko be able to help Ladybug and Chat noir?

Will Ladybug and Chat noir be able to get through to their brainwashed friends?

Will Masquerade's gambit be enough for her to get her vengeance?

Whats Simularé's deal?

Find out by staying tuned and sharing. Remember Reblogs help content creators and if you do enjoy my content, the support really does help

[swimmingleo]

Changes: or to take the higher ground before it's too late

I'm going to be real here folks, I cry ugly tears to this song. Bad.

Changes is a song on Cam's album "The Otherside". It's country, it's folk and it's an album a bit influenced by changes in Cam's life (a change of label, personal life). She collaborated with Harry on the song Changes, as she opened for him on a venue and was already working with Tyler Johnson.

From what I gathered: Harry sent her the demo of the song, implying he made most of the writing on this one. What I'm basing this claim on is her interview for Rolling Stones (read it here):

I heard [the demo] and was just like, “Oh, this ache to outgrow something that you don’t want to outgrow!” It felt so good. I normally don’t take outside songs [...]

‼️DISCLAIMER‼️when analysing this song, I'm gonna go from the idea of it being written with a queer mindset (how surprising of me). Cam rendered the song beautifully and it is very much her own, but I believe Harry's input is consequential. After all that's his lil whistle and cute fishsona in the MV.

Sad queer analysis ahead.

Let's analyse the lyrics first:

There is a town

Somewhere down a country road

The speaker describes the town to us, from memory, from experience. "There it is, down the road, can you picture it ?"

I see it now

I take it everywhere I go

The speaker doesn't currently live in the town, they're on the move (nice throwback to the coutry road). But despite all the travelling, they realize the sedentary smalltown never leaves them. It's part of them. It left a mark on them.

The river sways, I can almost hear it now

As if to say, "You're not the only one who wants a way out"

The town is so real to the speaker they can sense it, eyes and ears. But it gets a bit dark: the river sways like it's trying to leave its bed. The river is envious of the speaker who managed to leave. The town is so toxic even nature wants to get away from it. Or the speaker resents the town so bad that they project their own resentment on the river.

So, I go

'Cause I don't wanna feel like I don't know you anymore

I memorize those roads

This is the call for the speaker to leave for good. Their motive doesn't seem to be ambitious or anything grand. They leave because they apprehend a feeling. Apprehending a feeling, something that may not even happen, is the way of an anxious person. Anxiety is the motive of their departure. However, they still memorize the roads leading to the town, just in case. Perhaps one day they'll come back.

Somewhere out in the big wild country

Someone's fallin' in love in a backseat

Givin' it away

Like their hearts won't ever break

Suddenly it's about love ! Young love, one that is lived in the small compartment of a car, somewhere hidden and safe in the big wild country. As if the countryside was unexplored and threatening.

God bless the young hearts sippin' cheap wine

Gettin' drunk with their friends for the first time

Thinkin' nothing's gonna change

'Til everything changes

The speaker looks at the youth with tenderness, wishing them the best. But once again, they're not in the town in the present time, they don't see the youngsters fooling around, they can only guess from first-hand experience. And it's very specific: falling in love, getting drunk with friends and thinking everything's gonna be easy like that forever until it's not and heartbreak ensues.

From there I hop in with the raw queer theme of those lyrics. It started by falling in love and it ended up in a heartbreak. In between, the speaker got drunk for the first time with their friends, people they trusted enough to let go a little, but in the end everything changed. Why ? Alcohol makes you forget about code of conduct, how you're supposed to behave. It makes you say or do things you might not have done sober.

We can interprete this chorus as the beginning of the end for the speaker. It's the only part of the song evocating the past, and it's fun and easy, but it's also where things started to get bad the way they are in the present. Something might have happened that first time the speaker got drunk and it marked the end of innocence and careless childhood, and it probably has to do with love as no other factor is provided apart from falling in love and heartbreak.

They never leave

They're all havin' babies now

Watchin' daytime TV

Livin' off the gossip of a cruel small town

They. With Harry, it's always You, Me, and They. They are having babies, all of them, like it's not a very difficult thing to do, it's just natural. They have the leisure of the day, not a thing to worry about, if not gossip. It's not implied anymore, the small town is downright cruel. Gossip fuels it, but on behalf of someone else, and that someone is most definitely the speaker who left and who describes its inhabitants in the most mundane way, perhaps with a hint of contempt. The speaker seems bitter.

So, I go

'Cause I don't wanna feel like you don't know me anymore

Don't recognize my face

Reprise of the pre-chorus except now, the speaker provides another reason for their departure. Not only they feared they wouldn't know the town anymore, they also feared being seen as a stranger. It's not like the speaker actually changed physically: but it might as well feel like it. Again, apprehension, anguish. As implied in the chorus, things changed to the point where the speaker feels they would seem like a whole another person to the rest of the town, a stranger, a threat to the integrity of the conservatives. So they leave before this shift in perception can happen.

There ain't nothing here for me anymore

They say they don't hear from me anymore

And I don't wanna hear it anymore

The town is not outwardly hostile. It's still the town that saw the speaker as a kid. The town doesn't understand why the speaker left, but the speaker won't give in and get in touch. They want to be as far away as possible, until they don't hear the questions, the river, everything. It's almost like the speaker doesn't carry the town in their heart at all. They want to forget it all, and it hurts everytime the town tries to lure them back in. The way Cam sings it is painful to me man

Somewhere out in the big wild country

I was fallin' in love in a backseat

Givin' it away

Like my heart won't ever break

Had such a young heart sippin' cheap wine

Gettin' drunk with my friends for the first time

Thinkin' nothing's gonna change

'Til everything changes

Yeah, just the confirmation of the chorus being the speaker's experience. I went ahead and assumed it was already lol but it's like a plot twist effect. It's dramatic. It's a personal song to someone.

TO MAKE IT SHORT to me this song is intense and very in touch with the queer experience. Though it describes a specific situation, it is surprisingly not that detailed or full of metaphors the way Harry often writes: this town could be literally any smalltown in the countryside. The backseat could be the one of any car, cheap wine is something any teen can afford. I like to think Harry wrote it for himself but is also aware so many people went through the same thing, and still will. I have to admit I'm heavily biased writing this, as the experience of a queer kid struggling to find their place in a well settled smalltown is familiar.

GETTING DRUNK AND QUEER IDENTITY is an analogy Harry already used in Fine Line when he sang "We'll get the drinks in so I'll get to thinking of her". To drink is to let go, to unveil the most subconscious aspects of yourself you might not want to deal with otherwise. You don't care about judgement and you get to explore those parts freely. In Changes, this is the last memory they recall before stating the changes and their departure. Perhaps getting drunk for the first time would be when they realized they're queer. Or acted upon it, causing their little world to shake. They chose to leave before it eventually wouldn't feel like a choice anymore. There is no life for people like them in a cruel smalltown.

SMALLTOWN BOY

This song reminds me an awful lot of Smalltown Boy by Bronski Beat. The song is about a queer boy having to leave the smalltown where he grew up because of persecutions and no future prospects.

Mother will never understand why you had to leave, Smalltown Boy

They say they don't hear from me anymore, Changes

But the answers you seek will never be found at home, the love that you need will never be found at home

There is nothing here for me anymore

Other people not understanding why they leave. People who can't truly empathize even when they mean no harm. They would never understand the speaker's departure, because those people get to find love and have babies and live a peaceful life in the countryside.

You were the one that they'd talk about around town as they put you down

Livin' off the gossip of a cruel small town

Yeah yeah. I really struggle with just seeing this song as nostalgia when such harsh words are being used. I do believe there is a part of fondness for that town, that countryside setting and the early days. But it's not all tender memories.

CHANGES AND ERODA

Of couuuurse we all noticed the adorable purple fish with the pearl necklace. It represents Harry, no question, as it whistles Harry's part. And of couuuuurse we all made the link with the erodian fish, and some even noticed they formed the bluegreener pair when their colors are inverted.

It makes sense for those fishes to be connected with this interpretation of Changes. Both works are about a small town, lost in the nature, where the people are watching, aware of everything that isn't normal, that is peculiar. The early life of the peculiar boy is similar in every way to the early life of the speaker in Changes. The fish in Adore You grows too big for the island and has to leave, and though Eroda makes amends with the peculiar boy, he leaves as well because his future, his fulfilment, is somewhere else. So does the speaker in Changes.

IN CONCLUSION

The more I write posts like this, the more endeared I am by Harry's world. How Harry writes for himself, but also for other people with songs like this. How nature finds its way in all that he does. How grounded he is, how he doesn't seem to forget where he came from. It really is such a rare thing to see in a mainstream popstar's writing and art. How can someone say he sold his soul to LA is beyond me

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding XX

Part I - - - - - - - - - - Part XVII - - - - Part XVIII - - - - Part XIX

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

“I want you to understand that what we’re going to ask of you is entirely beyond the scope of duty and therefore completely voluntary. You are more than free to refuse participation, at any point, with absolutely no consequences.”

Deep within the Healing Halls best-kept medical secret, Eights quelled beneath the full might of the GAR’s highest and most lauded Generals. Yeah I’m sure whatever they ask I’m going to want to say no. Honestly, what kind of soldiers have they been working with?

“What can I do to help, sir? Sirs?”

“I know this might be shocking, but we have reason to believe the GAR is...compromised.”

“Sir?”

Eights thought furiously. This wasn’t about the healers who were hiding them, or the Jedi his battalion never received, or the decommissioning he had escaped. This was bigger.

The General Windu spoke calmly, “We suspect that you may have been trained or conditioned at some point without your knowledge to unquestioningly follow orders, orders that would usually be beyond what you would typically obey. With your permission, we’d like to try and activate that order in a restrained environment in order to gain more information, with the hope of finding a way to help the troops resist.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t understand. You’re just going to give me an order and ask me...not to obey it?”

General Koon nodded (General Koon! General Koon and General Windu were talking to him at the same time!). “In a manner of speaking, yes. But it’s possible that the order will do more than that. The only way we believe this could possibly work” Koon glanced to the man at his side. “And we...do believe this threat is real, is if you suffer from some form of brainwashing. Activating it might cause irreparable brain damage. Activating it might damage or kill the parts of you that make you you. Even if it doesn’t- the ideal scenario is we find something- an intentionally designed tumor perhaps- and surgically remove it. And brain surgery also has its own risks.”

Eights swallowed around a lump in his throat. 

“And this is something that could be going on with...my entire batch?”

General Kenobi winced. “The entire GAR I’m afraid. Every clone.”

The General of the 212th! Commander Cody’s General was here! Talking to him! Telling him existentially terrifying ultra classified intel!

The trooper stared up from bed in disbelief. If anyone besides three of most respected generals in the entire GAR (not including Buir Ti) was telling him this he would accuse them of bantha crap fear-mongering, if not outright treason. Instead he was just...outraged.

“What would the order make me...us...do?”

Windu took a deep breath. “Attack us. Try and kill the Jedi.”

“I would never.” Eights straightened up even further. “We would never betray the Jedi- it’s- never. We were made for the Jedi and even if we weren’t- you’re the only ones who treat us with an ounce of respect.”

“No one is questioning your loyalty,” the kind Mon Cal healer (whose name he had never asked for fear of getting her in trouble if this ward was ever discovered) said, obviously trying to sooth him. She spoke with heart-breaking earnestness. “The fact that you would never choose to obey such a command just makes the possibility of something forcing you to do so that much more horrifying.”

“How would something like that even get in our heads? The longnecks designed us to serve the Jedi, why... I’m sorry Generals. I didn’t mean to get out of line.”

“No need to apologize. You have every right to be angry about this intrusion, as well as any number of things,” General Kenobi reassured him, smiling sadly. “We don’t know to what extent the Kaminoans are involved with this plot. Not precisely.”

Eights nodded, clenching his one remaining fist. “I’ll do it. Whatever you need from me. I can’t let my brothers have something this big looming over them without any intel.” I’m not exactly front-lines material anymore anyway.

“Are you sure?” Mace Windu’s eyes seemed to stare into his soul. Eights stared right back.

“I am. When do we start?”

It didn’t take long to shave the soldier and connect a number of glowing vital readers to his skull. He was ushered into a chambered observation room with what appeared to be a sfaraday cage hastily built around it. 

“Alright, whenever you’re ready.” Bant (Master Eerin apparently, but she told him to call her Bant) said.

“I’m ready, sir.”

“Let’s start off small, see if we can learn anything without fully activating the order.”

General Kenobi took in a deep breath. He looked calm, but Jedi always did. The General took in another breath. Kriff, two deep breaths. That’s Jedi for freaking out, isn’t it? Right?

Fuck.

“Does Order 66 mean anything to you?” General Kenobi braced himself, staring intently at the trooper in his seat. 

Eights wracked his brain furiously. Sixty-Six...that was...

“It’s...a little familiar? Sorry sir, I feel like I’ve heard it somewhere but...I can’t recall.”

“That’s perfectly alright trooper, not to worry.”

A Twilek healer he didn’t recognize spoke into a micomphone from the other side of a transparisteel window. “His frontal lobe might be lighting up a little, but it’s nothing abnormal, and not enough to triangulate for anything intrusive.”

After several variations on the same question as well as a number of scans of different ‘levels,’ the questioning escalated to orders, as well an extremely uncomfortable mock fight that he would probably tell his grandchildren about, provided he survived today, and also was allowed to have grandchildren.

Still, Eights couldn’t quite recall ever learning an Order 66 and was starting to relax, thinking the whole thing was some sort of horrible separatist lie.

They left him alone for an uncertain amount of time before returning with-

“Quickdraw?!” Eights jumped up at the sight of his commanding officer arriving via hoverchair, nervously saluting with his left hand.”I didn’t know you were here!”

“Just got out of bacta. My spine’s not quite what it used to be after the blast,” the lieutenant responded wryly. “At ease, Eights.”

“Our apologies again for waking you prematurely,” General Koon said softly.

Quickdraw waved the General off. “I’m honored you did. For something as serious this- well I’d hardly forgive myself if I just slept through it.”

Quickdraw locked eyes with Eights. “I’m supposed to try giving you ‘the order’ now- General Kenobi suspects that as your superior officer, I might be authorized to trigger whatever the hell the longnecks put in our heads.”

Eights swallowed hard. “The longnecks, sir?”

“Who else?” Quickdraw asked in a tone drier than Jakku. He spun in the chair to face General Koon. “How are we doing this?”

After a brief discussion, the troopers ended up on opposite sides of a sound-proof transparisteel divider, an comm channel open between them. Eights plugged his ears and gave the order first. And giving Quickdraw an order was almost but not quite as weird as giving an order that would apparently make him try and kill Jedi.

Nothing happened and they swapped, this time with Quickdraw using a waxy covering to block his hearing.

His lieutenant stared at him straight through the clear divider and ordered him to execute Order 66. This time he finally remembered his training, and realized he was woefully outgunned. Oh well, he was a good soldier.

Eights stood up. The only visible change in his expression was a widening of his pupils. There was no malicious intent palpable in the force- he didn’t even look angry- just determined.

He lunged at the Jedi next to him, only to hit an invisible wall. He threw himself at the barrier desperately while the traitor backed out of the room and escaped. The wall finally dropped, but it was too late, he was locked in.

Sighing, he picked up the chair with his one good arm, slamming it repeatedly at the door frame. Good soldiers follow orders.

On the other side of the observation window, Quickdraw stumbled back horrified, reaching for his ears before hesitating. General Koon softly tapped his shoulder and indicated they should leave. 

“I’ve got a location.” Master Che said quietly as the lieutenant was ushered into an antechamber and the activated trooper continued to beat at the door. “It’s a small but clear patch lit up like the festival of lights- I don’t know why it didn’t turn up in scans but...I’m as confident as I can be. Worst case- it’s a small enough area that removing the grey matter shouldn’t...well it won’t kill him. It’s enough to go on for microscapel surgery.” General Koon nodded, then tilted forward, weight falling heavily in his palms on the counter before him.

Vokara rested a hand gently on his back “...I was hoping it wasn’t true as well.”

Master Koon flinched away. “I am sorry and glad to say you do not understand my feelings on the matter. I think...my apologies but I need some time to meditate.”

“Of course.”

Koon rushed out. After a moment Master Windu stepped in, radiating similar distress as Master Koon. Master Kenobi followed, looking grim but also happy. 

‘Oh I’m glad Koon isn’t around him right now,’ Healer Che thought wryly.

Perhaps sensing the mood, Obi-Wan sobered. 

“I’m sorry it’s just- I didn’t actually see the order get activated. Of course I believed it wasn’t a choice- and I’m obviously not glad that anyone’s will could be taken so easily-”

“You don’t have to explain anymore,” Mace offered quietly. “I can understand why seeing this would be something of a relief, all things considered.”

The Head Healer nodded in agreement before taking charge. “Kenobi, go in with Eerin and help her sedate him. I’ll prepare for surgery.”

“Wait- shouldn’t we try other permutations first? It’s possible that once activated, a clone might be able to order a superior officer-”

“And it’s also possible that if a lieutenant is activated, the entire army will turn,” Mace snapped. Obi-Wan bent his head, chastised. 

“Right. Yes. I’ll go- find Bant.”

An extremely long hour later, Master Che returned from surgery. Masters Mundi, Koth, and Yoda had left to and fulfill the other thousand and one duties of a council member not unravelling a Sith conspiracy at the heart of the Republic, while Master Aerdo had been dispatched to talk with Quickdraw as well as some of the other troopers in the hidden Medical bay. 

“It’s a chip,” Vokara said grimly. “Native biological material, but clearly a chip. Like you would find in a droid. Far more complex than any slave chip I’ve ever seen, and no explosive component. It would only turn up on a level five brain scan. I didn’t even think to run it before- it’s overly invasive and typically useless.”

The reduced meeting crumpled at the sight of the infinitesimally small object of control, carefully encased in a stasis slide and placed delicately on the conference table.

Proof of Obi-Wan’s future, a future that the group thought they already believed.

“We should get Master Nu,” Adi Gallia said quickly, “We’ll want our top researchers analyzing it as soon as possible.”

Koon nodded sharply. “Agreed.”

The Tholothian Master stood, “I’ll go at once- we should probably keep any mention of this off comms.”

As Master Gallia swept out of the room, Plo Koon wrenched his gaze from the stasis slide to face the healer. “Master Che, what is Eight’s status?”

“Unconscious and restrained, but he should wake up soon enough. It...might not be a bad idea to have another Jedi nearby when he does.”

Koon and Che left the room, taking the chip with them and conferring quietly.

Obi-Wan leaned forward, elbows on the table and face in his hands.

Master Windu exchanged a glance with Anakin. 

Finally Obi-Wan spoke, tentatively addressing Bant, “Could it be possible for someone...besides a clone to be chipped? If Palpatine had access to them as a child...”

Bant drew back, gaze flickering to Anakin. “I- we would have to study it more-”

Anakin interrupted, shifting in his seat. ”Master- what did I do?”

“It- it wasn’t you. It wasn’t you anymore that the person who fired on me was Cody.”

Bant exchanged a glance with Mace, before clearing her throat with a soft gurgle. “Perhaps we should leave the two of you alone to talk this through.”

The Mon Cala Healer stood and exited rapidly. Windu exchanged a glance with Skywalker before he left. “Talk through everything, understood?” Anakin nodded.

The door shut, leaving Master and Padawan alone. “I feel like I’m missing more than two and a half days,” Obi-Wan muttered wryly. “I don’t remember you three having a non-verbal communication system consisting of eye-contact alone before.”

Anakin chuckled once then immediately grew somber, picking at a loose thread in the sleeve of his robe. A thousand thoughts were swirling in his head, and he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“I- did I hurt you? Is that- is that why you stabbed me, you thought you were defending-”

“I did what?!” Obi-Wan paled, jumping up from his seat.

Anakin winced. “It’s nothing, that’s actually not important. I’m healed anyway so forget I mentioned it-”

Obi-Wan moaned, stumbling backwards over the fallen chair. “Of force- when you were trying to save me- I had a blade. I cut you down-” He tripped backwards, collapsing to the ground.

“Master!” Anakin lurched forwards, but the older Jedi scrambled back.

“I forgot my spray bottle in there,” Bant whispered outside the door. “Do you think it’s too late to go back for it?”

Mace peered subtly through the small window in the door. “Yes. They’re already on the ground. I think they’re both crying.”

“It’s been less than a minute!”

“Yes.”

“...We should go.”

“Yes.”

Unaware of their muffled audience, the two continued their conversation.

“Don’t- don’t touch me!” Obi-Wan gasped, back hitting a wall. “I don’t- I don’t deserve-”

The young knight reared back, falling from a crouch to his knees, “Is this...about the Tuskens again?

Obi-Wan blinked in confusion. “The Tuskens? What about Tuskens?”

“You don’t...remember?” The air grew cold and Anakin forced himself to continue, “What- what we talked about in the cave?”

“What we- I-” Obi-Wan thought furiously. “...Anakin. What did...what were you apologizing for in the cave? What- what did you think we were talking about?”

“Oh gods.” Anakin paled now, shuffling back.

“What are they doing now?” Bant asked the taller Master.

“They’re taking turns chasing each other back and forth on their hands and knees. They both look like they’re seconds away from passing out or throwing up.”

“I...is this a human thing?”

“No. What? Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know! Do you think this is how they usually talk to each other?”

“I think perhaps they don’t talk to each other, and that’s why they’re like this.”

“Right, right... I really want to hear what they’re saying.”

“Hm. I don’t.”

“Why are you also standing outside the door then?”

“I want to be ready to intervene if they start trying to kill each other.”

“FORCE”

“Quiet!”

“Sorry. Sorry. You think they fought then? In the...other timeline?”

“...It would explain Obi-Wan’s shatterpoint remnants better than anything else.”

“Not to mention the spice.”

“I thought we were politely ignoring the spice.”

“...and then I brought her back to the homestead for burial.” Anakin bowed his head, tears streaming against his will. “I thought...Master I know I can’t fix this but I’m sorry- I already stepped down from my position as General so I wouldn’t be in a position to kill anyone else- I need you to forgive me.”

“Oh Anakin.”

“What? What happened?” Bant asked urgently. 

The Master of the Order appeared unruffled in the force and human visible light, but the tips of his ears were heating up in infrared. She stood on her toes to see in.

“Oh- they’re hugging? Seriously? That’s what you’re embarrassed to see?”

“They’re clinging to each other like younglings. It’s undignified for a Jedi Master and Knight”

“Alright that’s it- we’re going. I really don’t think Anakin’s going to jump from crying and hugs to murder.”

Unaware of their newfound privacy, the two inside withdrew from their embrace, still sniffling slightly. 

“Thank you, Master,” Anakin said in a shaky tone. “I swear I won’t let you down, I’m going to do better.”

“I know, my padawan, I know. I’m going to be there to help you this time, I’m not going to leave you alone with- well I’m not going to leave you alone.”

Anakin smiled wetly at Obi-Wan’s careful avoidance of Chancellor Palpatine’s supposed Sith alter ego, refocusing on Obi-Wan and making intense eye contact.

“What did you think we were talking about?”

Obi-Wan looked down. “It doesn’t matter,” he whispered. “It- it never happened.”

“Ori’vod, please. You- you mentioned younglings. I did something else unforgivable didn’t I?”

Obi-Wan smiled but didn’t look up. “And i forgave you anyway. Even when I thought your apology was just a fantasy. But it wasn’t, it was real, and- and the people actually are unmurdered so...it’s not worth talking about it.”

Anakin bit the inside of his cheek, gut roiling. “You...really think I might have a chip in me?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes snapped up. “I...don’t know. I didn’t even know that Cody had a chip in him.”

“You just...were suddenly betrayed by everyone.” 

“Not...everyone. Most who refused to fall in line were executed, of course, but there were a few senators who stood with the Jedi, secretly.” 

A new wave of cold terror passed over Anakin. “What happened with the other senators?”

“Like I said to the council earlier, from what I heard they cheered Palpatine on. Thunderous applause.”

“That’s not what I mean- Padme, Was Padme alright?”

Obi-Wan buried his face in his hands, shuddering.

“Anakin- I don’t know what to tell you,” he said in muffled voice. “I don’t want to deceive you but- things were dark. If I tell you everything now, I’m afraid of what you’ll do.”

Anakin winced. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I’m not...evil. I just...I messed up, and I want to make things better.”

Obi-Wan sighed, and pulled Anakin so they were seated next to each other in a mirror of the false peace a few days earlier. Anakin leaned into his Master’s side, feeling the cold retreat. “You’re not evil Anakin, but what you did to the Tusken village wasn’t exactly a small thing. I- look- Ad’ika-”

Obi-Wan hesitantly placed an arm around Anakin’s shoulder and the cold retreated a bit more.

“If the council accepts my plan, we’re going to have time together over the next few weeks, to talk more about...everything. We’re going to end the war- save everyone. I know the cave wasn’t what either of us thought it was, but it still meant the galaxy to me. I love you, no matter what...and that conversation, what you said. Well, it gave me the strength to go on, to do what I needed to.” Obi-Wan froze. “Not my, um, self-inflected injuries- that’s- obviously that wasn’t your fault-”

“You thought you were hallucinating. I know.” Anakin smiled, feeling honestly amused at the absurdity situation for the first time. “I’m going to mock you for that for the rest of our lives, you know that, right?”

“I look forward to it.” Obi-Wan smiled.

A vise that had been clenched around Anakin’s heart since he broke down the door to their apartment finally relaxed. “You really weren’t trying to kill yourself,” he sighed happily.

“I was attempting to stay alive. Honestly concerned about dehydration. I wanted to stay in the daydream, but I knew I couldn’t. And part of that was because you gave me the strength to keep going. Sorry I did such a bad job honoring that but, well. You know. Thank you, Anakin. For saving me twice over.” Obi-Wan’s voice was utterly earnest, though it was a touch more embarrassed than he was used to after the single day of utter unrestraint. 

Anakin’s eyes welled up. “I’ve been- I hated that you would just leave like that, give up-”

“Never Anakin,” Obi-Wan vowed. “I will never give up on you, or this galaxy.”

He twisted so he could throw both arms around his padawan.

“I swear by everything I am I will keep going. It’s... in my nature but gods is it easier with you besides me.”

“Even though i’m a child murderer twice over and once removed?” Anakin joked weakly, clinging desperately to Obi-Wan’s presence.

Obi-Wan shuddered. “Too soon, Anakin. Too soon.”

Part XXI

[damselofblueroses]

Bambi, Prologue

You are my Bambi, girl, I am your candy, tell me what are you waiting for?

Summary: As an archaeologist who works on the Ancient Greece, you were on the verge of excavations' session. While you have been preparing your team, you learned that your institute decided on your team has to work with another team as they wanted the outcome as a collaboration. The head of other team was your biggest rival, a scumbag in your eyes: Byun Baekhyun.

You two were supposed to work together for three months, in a Greek Island, Chios.

Could you manage to not kill Byun Baekhyun for three months?

Content: AU, heavily Greek mythology, enemies to friends.

Warnings: Well, the story contains NSFW/Smut, please minors do not continue.

Note: This story will be four or five chapters if I will not change my mind in the meantime. It is inspired by my major; however, I do not have a complete knowledge on archaeology, I am a historian. If I will make a technical mistake, please let me know. I am willing to receive any kind of feedback; you are more than welcomed to drop a message.

Prologue

The Mid of April, Sejong Institute, the Department of Archaeology

“Could you give me Bulfinch?” you asked to your teammate. “I have to check the layers of the Underworld.”

“Here you go.” Junmyeon gave the thick book to you. While you were searching for the details in your mind, Junmyeon was dealing with the plan of construction.

You have been knowing each other since the last 10 years, working together was nothing but natural as breathing for both of you. Junmyeon was older than you and supposed to be superior to you, however he decided to pursue a career not in the field, but in the library, you became the leader of the archaeological team of Sejong Institute.

“Indy,” Junmyeon called you by your nickname. You automatically lifted your head, your nickname became your Pavlovian weakness, sometimes you forgot your real name. “Be a good girl and pass me the cookie jar.”

You wholeheartedly laughed at his face expression and threw him his favourite chocolate cookie.

“Do you want a cup of coffee?” you asked, stretching your body. “My battery is literally going down; let’s grab an americano.”

“Only if you buy me a carrot cake.”

Junmyeon had a sweet tooth, as he opened the package and swallowed the cookie just without even chewing.

“Okey, big boy.” you smacked his shoulder, standing up. “You are goddamn lucky for having that fast metabolism, you know.”

“My darling girl, I work out in a fucking routine.” he grinned like a 5-year-old boy. You really loved to see his cockiness. “My body ratio is not a heavenly gift; I gain every muscle with tears and blood.”

“What kind of god can reward you, shitty dandy?” you chuckled. “You are a walking blasphemy.”

“Still better than you.” Junmyeon pulled your hair by laughing.

“You are definitely right.” you lolled your tongue out of your mouth. “Come on, move your bloody but peachy butt!”

Actually, you were shy, quiet but quick to make sharp remarks. However, Junmyeon was more than a teammate; he was the closest one to a brother for you, you have been always so relaxed when you were with him. The outcome of your friendship was the freedom of speech, you could be vocal as much as you wanted. Junmyeon was never offended by anything you would say, the same applied also to you. You were his dear sister, your families became friends because of you.

You could not imagine your life without Junmyeon.

“What do you think about the digging session?” you asked to him when you were waiting in the line. Junmyeon was trying to select his dessert, carrot cake was already forgotten.

“Well, you will be the team leader, that is sure thing.” he huffed. “Most probably they will ask you who do you want in your team, and you will not name me if you want to live.”

“You are the last one who I am going to choose when it comes to work in the trenches.” you smirked. “Who wants a cry baby in the field?”

“Oh.” Junmyeon turned you, shooting a dirty look, which only led you to bite your upper lip in order to prevent bursting into laughs. “You need a brain; those muscular tough babies cannot figure even how to use tools out.

“But they do not run away when they see a bug.” you could not help but start to laugh. “Do you r-

“Shut the fuck up.” Junmyeon covered your mouth with his hand. “You are banned to talk about that incident from now on. Ever.”

“But,” you took his hands off you, tears forming in the edges of your eyes due to the memory you remembered. Junmyeon gave you a deadly stare, but you could not help. “You were running over the hill because you came across to a spider in your trench. Didn’t you give up on becoming Indiana in our first digging session?”

“No, I preferred to protect my own dignity.” he shook his head, then he also burst into laughs. “Jesus, I hate spiders and one Indy is enough for the family.”

“At least you learned that X never marks the spot before quitting.” you murmured, then pointed what you want to him. “Blueberry muffin, Jun. It looks yummy.”

“At least you learned that rolling in the dirt is not for the people who has a class.” Junmyeon ordered two americanos, one blueberry muffin and one red velvet cake. “Jokes aside, there are some gossips. Did you hear any of them?”

“Damnit, yes.” you exhaled and pinched the bridge of your nose. “The Executive Board is thinking to build a collaboration between us and Sunkyungwan people.”

“Yeah.” Junmyeon sat down on a chair, helped you to settle yourself. “And if they do, you know who is going to be the other team leader, right?”

“Do not tell me.” you covered your ears with your hands. You knew, you already heard the possible name, however even the possibility was giving you nothing but headache. “That’s why I asked your opinion. If that bastard will be my fucking colleague for Chios, I think I will pass this session”

“Hell, over my dead body.” Junmyeon aggressively grasped his little fork. “I know how much you guys despise each other, but this is your fucking career. Do not even dare to think you can turn your back to an opportunity.”

“But, Ju-

“No.” he was firm as fuck. “If they will give you the excavation of Chios, you will be fucking happy and you will accept their fucking propose. Chios will be the icing of the cake for you, you always want to lead an excavation in the Aegean.”

“You are right.” you knew when the occasion called to not push Junmyeon’s limits. Career came first, the rest is not important was his mentality. “You are right, but I really do not draw myself working with him.”

“Ignore him. You do not have to see him every day, ditch him in the field, goddamn.” Jun chewed a mouthful bite of his cake. “I do not want you to be facing with the Board, standing for no ground. If they will manage to build the connection, Sunkyungwan will appoint Byun Baekhyun as the leader for sure.”

You did not answer his god-fucking-damn-it prediction, but even thinking about it made you want to puke.

You vividly remember Byun Baekhyun, a fucking tease, and a smartass, from your bachelor years. You were not the type of people who could easily hate someone, but you hated Byun Baekhyun since the first day you met. He was a cockhead and dandy, he was a real scumbag, always so full of himself, underestimating everyone and their abilities, thinking he was the star of the universe. To your dismay, both of you were accepted from same university for your master and you had to endure his presence till he accepted the offer of Sunkyungwan.

You never tell this to Junmyeon, hell, he would not spend even a second to kill you if he would learn this, but you turned the offer of Sunkyungwan just because of Byun Baekhyun’s acceptance.

You hated him to the bits.

And you really did not know what the heck you were going to do if Sejong’s Executive Board was going to approve the collaboration. You looked at Junmyeon, he certainly was not going to let you to turn the offer down, and this time you could not hide the fact from him.

You grunted inside of your brain.

The Beginning of May, Sunkyungwan, the Department of Archaeology

Byun Baekhyun was happy.

More than happy till now.

He just stormed into his room, trying to register the news.

You? Were you really going to be his fucking colleague for fucking three months?!

He remembered you very well, and he was %100 sure of there was no person in this universe, he despised more than you. He even could not endure to share same atmosphere with you. He always wanted to fuck your attitudes out of you since he met you.

And was he really going to see your fucking face for three months, in an island?!

It had to be a bloody joke. A bloody plot on Baekhyun.

“I said,” he screamed when he heard his door was opened. “I do not want to see anyone!”

“Even an old friend?” a kind voice asked, Baekhyun immediately turned to the door.

Junmyeon was there, smiling to him. Baekhyun was startled, he was definitely caught off guard.

“Hyung?” he murmured. “Junmyeon Hyung?”

“Yeah.” Junmyeon’s smile widened. “May I come or not?”

“JUNMYEON HYUNG!” Baekhyun forgot you for a second and threw himself onto Junmyeon. He loved Junmyeon very much, enough to forgive his close relationship with you. “Welcome!”

Junmyeon smiled and hugged to Baekhyun but averted his eyes from him.

There was a plan in Junmyeon’s mind since years, and he had the chance of making it true after the news of collaboration. He averted his eyes also from you because he did not want anyone to understand his real intentions about you and Baekhyun.

Junmyeon smiled to Baekhyun.

[caffeinatedseri]

Murakami and Ranpo

Some minor spoilers ahead for the third BSD LN, The Untold Story of the Founding of the Detective Agency." If you aren't concerned with spoilers, I did my best with summarizing the plot for anyone who hasn't read the novel.

In the third BSD LN, Fukuzawa and Ranpo are tasked with finding the culprit of an ominous death threat at a theatrical play. The threat is written as follows:

“An angel shall bring death, in the truest sense of the word, to the performer. —V.”

This threat fits perfectly with the play, which is a mystery play where each character gets killed by an "angel" who murders. However, the characters don't know if they're being killed by an angel or a regular person, because there's nothing supernatural about their causes of death (getting stabbed by a knife, poison, strangulation, etc.).

Each character was a former angel who had been banished from the celestial world, because they admired humans so much that God turned them into humans. Therefore, the characters in the play believed that an angel was sent after them to punish them for their sins.

This sets up two mysteries for us to follow:

1. The mystery of the real death threat, sent by "V" — who is the culprit behind it, who will they kill, and why?

2. The mystery within the play — is it an angel or real person killing each character, and why?

Paradoxes (and Things That Don't Make Sense)

The play is called, "The Living World is a Dream, the Nocturnal Dream is Reality," which is a quote from the real Edogawa Ranpo's work, but I couldn't find the exact source. The title proposes a paradox: reality is a dream, and dreams are reality.

Several other paradoxes present themselves in the story, but they appear most prominently in Ranpo's big speech where he solves the mystery of the play, and the murder simultaneously:

“The murder and the play’s story are connected on a deep level. This play reversed the tide of the narrative. A group of fallen angels tried to return to the heavens, but the angel of judgment tried to stop them. Meanwhile, the angel’s judgment was but a show, and the supposed victim, a human, faked it. The angel’s and humans’ roles were reversed, switching the judge and the judged. That’s the kind of play this was. "

"...the narrative is in reverse. Our structures have been swapped along with the victim and killer as well. In other words—he isn’t the killer, but a victim."

This reveal subverts the original expectation that the plot would follow two separate mysteries. Instead, the lines are blurred between reality and fiction, killer and killed, and dreams and reality because now the two mysteries are intertwined.

I think this part of the story is deliberately written to be confusing (or at least not very clearly explained) as to fit in with the themes found in Murakami's writing.

Who is Murakami?

Haruki Murakami is a famous Japanese author, and you may have read some of his famous works, "Norwegian Wood" and "Kafka on the Shore."

Since this is Bungou (Literary) Stray Dogs, Murakami makes an appearance in this light novel as the main actor of the play.

Before I go on to explain Murakami's role in the novel, I'll give a brief background on his real counterpart and explain how the theatrical play in the novel reflects the real Murakami's work.

Murakami writes in the genre of "magical realism", where the lines between fantasy and reality are blurred as magical elements are seamlessly incorporated into the story. I'll be using "Kafka on the Shore" as the main example for this point, since it's a great example of Murakami's expertise in magical realism.

In "Kafka on the Shore," there are 2 interrelated plot lines, alternating with each chapter, similar to the 2 supposed mysteries outlined at the beginning of the novel.

Like its moniker, "Kafka on the Shore" resembles a "Kafkaesque" style of writing due to its surreal elements that are bizarre and illogical in the rules of reality.

In an interview about this novel, Murakami said:

"Kafka on the Shore contains several riddles, but there aren't any solutions provided. Instead, several of these riddles combine, and through their interaction the possibility of a solution takes shape. And the form this solution takes will be different for each reader. To put it another way, the riddles function as part of the solution. It's hard to explain, but that's the kind of novel I set out to write."

The Outcome of the Play

In theme with Murakami's bizarre, magical-realism writings, several illogical events take place within the span of the LN:

1. Before the play even starts, Murakami (the character) and the rest of the cast completely disregard the death threat. Even though the logical and safe solution would be to reschedule the play, it is a very literal representation of "the play must go on" mindset.

2. Murakami gets stabbed mid-sentence, on stage by a white blade that magically disappears.

3. Murakami bleeds real blood and has no pulse, which would signify his death, but he doesn't actually die.

Despite all this, Ranpo is extremely good at observing various elements of a situation and putting them together to form a solution, much like how the interactions of "Kafka on the Shore"'s riddles form their own solution.

Ranpo appears on stage and makes an Oscar-worthy performance out of his announcement that reveals Murakami to be the culprit behind his own death. It doesn't make much logical sense that Murakami would fake his own death for a performance, but rather it's an action motivated by pure passion.

“I…,” muttered Murakami in almost a whisper. He raised his voice and continued, “I am an actor! I become someone I am not and live a life that doesn’t exist! My job is to expose what it means to be human! It doesn’t matter if I play the lead part or a minor part. It doesn’t matter if I am a villain or hero. I become them with every part of my body! There is no other job for me! This is the only way I can live!”

And here, Murakami reveals the final paradox of the play:

"But there is one thing that cannot be avoided while acting on the stage of life, and that is death! Death is not the opposite of life; it is life’s symbol and banner. However, it also provides a great paradox! Nobody alive has ever experienced it! That’s why to me, the greatest job of all would be performing the death of a person. Not death as a device or a mere convention, but real death that I could convey to the audience. That was the pinnacle of theatrical performance to me. And this is the outcome of my toil."

Murakami eventually gets arrested for the fake death threat and deceiving the police, among other things. The most notable moment after this comes in Ranpo's dialogue to Murakami:

“I thought you were amazing,” Ranpo suddenly said from behind as Murakami was being taken away. “I didn’t quite understand all of it myself, but I don’t think it’s something that just anyone could do. By the way, take a look at the audience. Look at their faces.”

1. Ranpo sees Murakami's act as something admirable, most likely because Ranpo appreciates a good mystery and had fun solving it.

2. Ranpo tells Murakami to look at the audience, to which he turns around and sees the faces of a broken audience who came to watch a play and instead witnessed a real not-so-real murder.

“You said your job was entertainment, right? But could you really call it that…when you look at their expressions?” For the first time, Murakami’s eyes showed a sign of weakness. “…I see.” A small voice, unlike what one would expect from a stage actor with a powerful voice, fell from the stage. “I was…only performing for myself.”

Murakami realizes that he traumatized his entire audience on his quest to reach the "pinnacle of theatrical performance." In his small world that consisted of just the stage, he failed to see the outside world and forgot to consider how his actions would impact others. It's also important to mention that it was Ranpo specifically who pointed it out to him.

The focus on the audience mirrors Fukuzawa's thoughts when Ranpo was giving his big speech before Murakami appeared on the stage:

Fukuzawa was at his wits’ end. From the playgoers’ point of view, the fact that people knew there was going to be a murder beforehand completely changed their view of the situation. Was it really okay to tell them that? But Ranpo showed no concern for the audience’s worries.

Ranpo, throughout the entire novel, is portrayed as this extraordinarily ordinary kid who means well but simply doesn't understand what others are thinking. He was taught that he wasn't special, but this only isolated him into his own tiny world, because the outside world was filled with things he didn't understand.

This leads to him upsetting a bunch of people by blatantly calling out things about them that shouldn't be called out, like the theater's owner Ms. Egawa, and even Fukuzawa at one point.

However, this moment when he calls out Murakami is pivotal because it shows how he's grown from this event. He's learned to be considerate of others. He's seen how he can upset other people with the things he says, and he's learned from that enough to show another person who's trapped in their own individual world.

Although Ranpo is depicted to be somewhat self-centered throughout this novel and even after it, Fukuzawa taught him that he isn't alone in this world. Because Fukuzawa showed compassion to Ranpo, a special fifteen-year-old kid who didn't know better in a world of monsters, Ranpo learned how to exist in a world where he was different from everyone else, and that was okay.

Thank you for reading! If you haven't read this LN yet, I would still highly recommend it because I didn't cover the entirety of the mystery, and it's a wonderful read to understand more about Ranpo and Fukuzawa's backstory.

[datleggy]

Albert Plots aka coda to 4x02

One of Bucks house rules is: don't barge into my room unannounced.

It only becomes a house rule, of course, after Albert inadvertently interrupts his therapy session as he's mid sentence. 

"Oh crap, sorry sorry, I didn't realize--I mean, I thought--sorry." Albert finishes lamely, cringing at his own intrusion.

Buck practically chucks his tablet across his bed, face down, in his surprise. “Dude, knock.” 

Albert shrugs, grimacing apologetically. “You don’t have a door though?” 

Buck sighs, running a hand through his hair nervously. “Just...announce yourself next time, ok? Like, yell ‘I’m coming up’ or whatever.” 

Albert nods. “Sorry.” he mutters again. 

Buck decides the kid looks contrite enough that he can brush the whole thing off--it’s not like he overheard anything. “It’s ok, don’t worry, we’re good. What’s up? You needed something?” 

“I wanted to see if you wanted to order pizza but um,” Chimneys little brother pauses and scratches the back of his head. “Are you ok?” 

Buck gulps. “Uh, yeah, I--why wouldn’t I be?” Well shit, Buck thinks, maybe he did overhear a tidbit or two, after all... 

“Well,” Albert purses his lips to one side. “What you said just now, about hiding your feelings? Sorry, I really didn’t mean to eavesdrop--I was hungry and didn’t think before running up here. But um, listen, if you ever need an ear or a shoulder,” he shrugs delicately. “You’ve been there for me before a few times now. I like to think we’re good friends, so I want you to know you can always count on me to be there if you need someone. That’s all.” 

Buck would be touched if he weren’t also kind of mortified over having been caught spilling his guts to Dr. Copeland. Albert must see that, because he immediately moves to change the subject. “So, pizza?” 

“Yup,” Buck clears his throat. “Sal’s is the best joint in the area, their menu’s on the fridge, call and order whatever you want. I’ll umm, I’ll join you in a little bit.” 

"Ok." Albert scurries off quickly enough and Buck feels a little bad for not being more reassuring that he's not upset with him. But it's hard; being vulnerable, that is.

********

An hour later dinner is silent and just a tiny bit awkward between the two men.

It's only after a couple of beers that Buck loosens up enough to blurt out, "I'm in love with Eddie."

Albert blinks up at him in surprise. "Oh shit." His face breaks out into a happy grin. "Dude, that's awesome! I always thought you two would be good together. Actually, I gotta admit, I thought you two were dating when we first met at that bar. So it makes sense." Albert's voice trails off upon realizing how red Buck's face has gone. "Wait, did you not--you know? Know?" Albert's eyes grow wide.

Buck shrugs. "I kinda always knew? But I mean, the Eddie thing is..." He groans, "How am I supposed to tell my best friend I'm in love with him? It would ruin everything."

Albert shakes his head adamantly. "No way man, you said it yourself, Eddie's your best friend, your feelings for him wouldn't 'ruin' anything. Even if by some crazy chance he doesn't feel the same way it's not like he'd stop being friends with you."

Buck rubs a hand up his shoulder and bites on his bottom lip. "But what if that's exactly what happens? I don't wanna hide my feelings anymore, from anyone, but I don't think I can take that risk--it's too big, I could lose too much."

Albert has seen the way Eddie looks at Buck when he thinks no one is else is paying attention. “Look man, I’m not exactly the observant type--Howie can tell you that--but even I can see Eddie’s heart eyes when he’s looking in your direction.” 

Buck groans, hiding his face in his hands. “I just don’t wanna mess up what we have.” he looks up, his expression sullen. “We’ve got a good thing going.” he shrugs. “If I confess my feelings there’s a chance--” he sighs, hanging his head. “I can’t do it.” 

Albert reaches over and squeezes his shoulder in support. Suddenly an idea strikes him. “Hey,” he jumps up. “What if I could prove to you that Eddie’s just as into you as you are, into him? Would you say something then?” 

Buck lifts his head to look Albert in the eye, “How would you go about doing that?” 

Albert waves him off. “You don’t gotta worry about that part. Just trust me.” 

Buck raises a brow, dubious. “Ok, but you need to promise you won’t say anything about my feelings to Eddie--or to anyone, for that matter. Not even Chimney can know.” 

“I swear, not a word!” 

*********

Albert strikes over the weekend, during a friendly game of basketball with the 118. Albert had originally only been intending to play one on one with Chim, like usual, but had convinced him to invite everyone at the station, too, last minute. 

“Buck’s on my team!” Albert declares, before anyone can even truly get settled. 

Chim glares at Albert. “Oh yeah, call dibs on our tallest guy.” 

Albert shrugs, throwing an arm around Buck and pulling him close. “And let’s not forget the most handsome.” he winks at Buck with the subtlety of a fire engine racing across town. 

Chim raises a questioning brow at his brother but otherwise doesn’t comment. “Uh huh. Anyway, then I want Eddie on my team.” 

Eddie steps up beside Chim, giving Buck a look. “Ready to get your ass handed to you?” 

Buck scoffs. “I have the power of youth on my side, thanks.” he says, pointing to Albert. 

Bobby clears his throat. “This is starting to feel a lot like a middle school gym class, where I’m picked last for teams.” 

Hen bumps his fist in camaraderie. “Preach, Cap.” 

“Hen, I call Hen!” Chimney immediately announces, practically dragging his best friend over to his side. 

“Good, cause I was gonna pick Captain Nash anyway.” Albert sticks his tongue out. 

Buck grins when Bobby walks over to stand beside him. His parents never let him play sports when he was a kid--he had to forge their signatures for whatever ‘dangerous’ activity he wanted to participate in, and so he and his dad had never gotten to toss the ball around in the backyard the way most of his friends had, growing up. 

Being on the same team with Bobby now kind of feels like that. Not that he’d say it out loud. He’s way too old for that stuff now. Not to mention the fact that now he has to focus on both the game and on whatever Albert is plotting with him and Eddie. 

Buck sighs. He should’ve kept his big mouth shut. 

The game starts out friendly enough, some playful jabs thrown here and there, but Buck can tell Albert and Chimney are out for blood, knocking elbows and teasing the other when they miss a shot. Though, he concedes, they are siblings, and well, he and Maddie, even at this age, can still get a little overly zealous when competing with one another. So he’s not too worried. 

They take a break about half way through the game, sweaty and tired from running around so much, when Albert starts to speak. “Man, I can’t wait for that double date next Friday.” 

Chim glances up at him from the bench, where he’s rehydrating. “You’re going on a date? First I’ve heard.” 

Albert nods. “Yup. With Buck and these two really cool chicks I met at the coffee shop a couple of weeks ago.” 

Eddie furrows his brows. “Did you say Friday?” 

Albert nods, knowing exactly where this is going. 

Eddie turns to Buck, who’s trying his best to telepathically communicate with Albert to cut it out before he strangles the kid. “Uh, Friday’s game night.” he says, his tone slightly accusatory. 

Bobby’s eyes dart between the two men curiously. Hen presses her lips together. “Game night?” 

Eddie nods. “Every Friday we get together at my place and do a game night. Christopher looks forward to ‘em every week.” 

Albert cuts in before Buck can say anything. “Wow, you two sound like a married couple with a kid.” he teases. “But I mean, what’s the big deal, missing one game night? Buck could meet the love of his life Friday night. Isn’t that a little more important?” 

Eddie makes a face none of the crew can really read. “Guess you’re right.” he agrees reluctantly, picking up the ball and passing it to Chimney just a tad on the rough side. “Break’s over, let’s get back to it, yeah?” He steps out into the court without looking back, his shoulders set rigidly. 

Albert grins at Buck, whispering as the others head to the court as well, “It’s working!” 

“He looks like he wants to kill someone.” Buck half whispers back, eyes wide. “Your plan sucks.” 

“Shh, you’ll be thanking me later, now c’mon, let’s go!” Albert runs into the court and takes his position at the front, between Buck and Bobby. 

Buck can’t help but focus entirely on Eddie’s sour mood during the game, which is probably why he doesn’t notice the uneven asphalt as he goes to catch Bobby’s toss until it’s too late. He loses his footing and goes down hard. 

Buck’s back and side hit the pole connected to the basketball net and the damn thing actually shakes with the force of the collision. Bobby is on him instantly, helping him up and asking if he’s alright. Buck tries to say he’s fine, but the moment he’s standing he bends over, wrapping an arm around himself, wincing in pain. “Hurts.” he admits. 

Eddie sprints across the ball court to help Bobby get Buck to the benches where he can sit and they can see what’s going on. Hen lifts his shirt and grimaces tightly at the humongous ugly bruise already forming against his back and part of his chest. “Jesus, Buck.” she feels around that area. 

Buck gasps at the onslaught of pain and tries his best not to flinch away from her. 

“Definitely some bruised ribs, Buck,” Hen tells him sympathetically, pulling down his shirt as gently as she can. “Possibly fractured. I would definitely get this checked out in the ER, in case they’re broken. They’ll need to do an x-ray and a CT just to rule it out.” 

Buck groans. “Can’t I just ice it?” 

“C’mon,” Bobby shakes his head, helping Buck get up. “I’m taking you--” 

Eddie interrupts, his hand on Buck’s shoulder. “I can go. Christopher’s at a sleepover today, so I’m free anyway.” he volunteers. 

Buck is in too much pain to argue with either of them, and ends up in the front passenger seat of Eddie’s truck. Bobby makes Eddie promise to text the team updates. 

**********

Eddie fills out Bucks form so he can hold an ice pack to his side while they wait in the ER. Once he’s done he hands it to the nurse at the front desk and sits down next to Buck. “How ya’ feeling?” 

Buck knows there isn’t a point to lying, not when he needed to lean the majority of his weight on the other man from the car to the waiting room, after all. “Like the whole left side of me got hit by a car.” 

“Here, gimme that, I’ll hold it for you.” Eddie takes the ice pack and places it gently against his side, grimacing when Buck cringes. “Hurt a lot?” 

“Only when I breath.” Buck jokes, though it’s not too far from the truth. “You know you don’t have to stay here with me, I can call an Uber to drive me home. The place is packed, we’re probably gonna be waiting for hours.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes. “I’m not leaving you, so this had better be your first and last attempt at getting me to go.” 

Buck sighs. “Fine.” 

“Good.” Eddie clears his throat. “So...” 

Buck turns his eyes towards him. “So?” 

“You’re really not coming to game night Friday?” 

Buck looks away. He doesn’t want to lie to Eddie, but how crazy would he look if he told him Albert made all that up--in order to admit the truth he’d also have to confess his feelings for his best friend, and there’s just no way in hell that’s happening. “Yeah,” he says instead, “Sorry, I was planning on telling you later today, it just kinda slipped my mind.” 

Eddie hums, pursing his lips. “No it’s cool, Albert’s right. She might be the one.” he says, though it’s said dryly. 

Buck looks up at him from underneath his long lashes, curiously. “And uh, if she is?” 

“Then,” Eddie shrugs, “Good for you.” 

Buck nods. 

An uncomfortable silence falls upon the two men and it’s another half hour of awkwardness before Eddie picks up the conversation again. 

“You know what,” he starts, turning to Buck, “I lied. Not good for you.” 

Buck blinks at the bluntness. “What?” 

“I don’t want you to go on that date. And I don’t want to cancel game night. I know it’s selfish and I’m being kind of psycho right now, but I think I’m jealous?” Eddie’s mouth snaps shut, as though he hadn’t meant to say any of that out loud. Like the words simply spilled forth without his brains permission. 

“You’re jealous? Of...what?” Buck doesn’t dare to hope this is what he thinks it is. 

Eddie groans, putting down the ice pack for a moment and turning his chair completely to the side so he can face Buck fully. “I know I said Christopher looks forward to game nights, and he does, but so do I. I look forward to spending time with the two of you together and I get excited when our shifts line up on certain weeks and I’m getting tired of saying goodnight and watching you walk to your Jeep, all because I’m too much of a coward to just say--” Eddie stops himself, his chest aching, the words caught in his throat. 

“I’m in love with you.” Buck blurts out. 

“You--” Eddie stammers. “You are?” he asks in disbelief. 

Buck gulps, his cheeks heating up. “For a while now, I think. I just...hadn’t realized until recently.” Dr. Copeland had been a huge part of figuring that out. 

“Christ,” Eddie doesn’t waste a second more. He takes Bucks face in his hands and brings their foreheads together right then and there. “Can I...?” 

Buck nods, their lips brushing slightly with the motion. “Please.” 

Eddie kisses him, softly, tentatively, before pulling away just a bit. “I love you.” he confesses breathlessly. 

Buck thinks his heart might actually burst out of his chest. 

Man, Albert is never gonna let him hear the end of this. 

.

[rahleeyah]

Hi! I want to tell you I am in awe of your writing. It’s powerful and moving and so true to characters. I’m always curious…what is your writing “process?” If you don’t mind me asking!

Oh this is a great question!!! We haven't had a writing question in a while.

My process is not something I usually think about; when I first saw this question I was about to say something like mostly what I do is I just sit very still and let the words come out. And that's true but not fair; that's only one piece of the puzzle.

The first piece is routine. I write at the same time every day. Weekdays it's first thing when I come home from work, weekends it's first thing when I wake up. Always the same time, always sitting in the same place - on my porch, away from distractions, with fresh air and a glass of water and some smokes. That last part is not recommended.

It is hard to write if I miss a few days. One day is fine, but if I go more than 2-3 (which I don't think I've done since Christmas) I'll be out of step and it'll take a while to get back in the groove. So that's the practical part, is I've got a time and space set aside to write and that makes it easier.

The next piece I guess is where the ideas come from. I rewatch a lot. I find watching helps me keep the character voices, but it also helps me make new connections or find new moments to explore. I'll post thoughts here or share them with friends and the back and forth helps flesh things a lot. Most of the time an idea for a story is like a lightning strike; it feels as if it's come out of nowhere. But it isn't completely organic; I spend a lot of time thinking about ideas. In the shower, in the car, before bed, in snippets on tumblr. You have to cultivate the idea generating part of your brain. Sometimes I'll play with a story in my head for weeks and it won't go anywhere; sometimes the whole thing just appears fully formed in my brain like Jesus air dropped it to me. But you gotta be open to the spirit before the spirit can move you, you know?

So we have a place to write and we have an idea, how do we make a story?

A story is like a road. It is going from point A to point B and we gotta lay the pavers to get there. A story like hov is easy; it's set in canon so there's episodes to draw from, and there's a clear linear progression from not pregnant to pregnant to baby. There's a time frame and there's built in milestones. Something like let's take long way down, madam Jean, for example, is gonna be totally different, bc it isn't set in canon and there is no roadmap to get from strangers to happily ever after.

A lot of the time I don't look at the big picture bc it's overwhelming. It feels insurmountable, if I think about how many chapters it'll take and how much time it'll take. I'm eating this elephant one bite at a time, just like my mama said. So we write the first scene. The first paver that goes down is the Problem.

Not to be all freshman English class but every story is centered on conflict. Those conflicts can be anything; it doesn't have to be a "fight", an actual literally good guy vs bad guy. It just has to be an issue. Liv is pregnant but Elliot is her partner and they're not supposed to sleep together. Lucien works for the police but he's intrigued by the local madam. Eli doesn't know who Liv is and he's worried about his dad. Bernie Stabler shows up unannounced. All of these are Problems.

Once we have a Problem, we can start working on the Solution. We do this one step at a time. We do not rush.

So every day, I read over the last chapter I wrote. Where are we, what's happened, what are the Conflicts, what is the next logical step? How do we address it in one scene?

Lucien saw the madam, and she asked him to look after a pregnant girl. Ok now he has to go back to the brothel in the next chapter. That moves the timeline forward and moves us closer to the end goal, bc while Lucien is looking after the girl he talks to Jean, and we plant the seeds of them falling in love. It also gives us one piece of action to work on, one moment in time to write. I sit down, I write Lucien going to the brothel, I write him examining the girl and talking to Jean, boom there's one scene we're done. We tie those two things together; logical progression of Plot events, and the emotional undercurrent. I like it best when a chapter has both.

Themes come out naturally most of the time. Matrilineal, for example, was just me sitting down to write about Bernie and I used Amanda bc I love an outside pov. But as I was writing I'm thinking you know, Amanda has a complicated relationship with her mom. Shit, so does Liv. And they're both mothers now. And so is Bernie. And the emotional threads come out naturally as a result of who these people are. The piece wasn't gonna be about mothers but then it became obvious that it had to be.

Motifs appear the same way. The first chapter of bury my heart, I used this is love. That wasn't originally intentional, but when I did it the second time I thought there it is, and kept using it, and that's where the gut punch of the final line comes from; the meaning has changed from joy to sorrow and it is only impactful bc of the repetition and our previous connection to it.

I use a lot of imagery, and a lot of it tends to be religious - Jean is very Catholic, and so is Elliot, so for both Blake and svu there's room to play with it there. I like similes, I like metaphors, I like synecdoche - there's a fun one. I like to play with putting words together in different ways but that stuff doesn't happen in the car, or the shower, or on my lunch break; that usually only happens when I'm writing. I have to sit down and be still and let my brain go.

Conflict, themes, motifs, images, characters, these are the ingredients that make a story. And the more you work with them the easier they come. It just takes practice. But one of the best ways to improve is to read. See what's possible. See how other people have put words together. Someone commented once about how sometimes I say a lot with very few words; that is something I picked up from two very different places. Stephen King is great about short, simple, powerful sentences that knock your socks off. And there's a recurring line in my favorite series, the Belgariad, where when things are bad the man character goes to his aunt, who has raised him since he was a baby and is essentially his mother, and she holds him, and everything was all right again. It is a simple, repeated phrase about love, and comfort, and how no matter how terrifying the world can be, love brings healing and hope. There are quotes scattered throughout my work. Olivia quotes Heraclitus to herself in bury my heart; yes I am a classics major but my connection to that quote comes from the film the emperor's club. Inspiration is everywhere; draw on all of it.

This is. Probably more information than you were looking for but once I got started I couldn't stop.

[lalainajanes]

For “neighborhood block party” on my bingo card! This one takes place in the same universe as Sweet As (quirky supernatural small town fic in which Caroline’s a dryad who owns a bakery and Klaus is the leader of the local werewolf pack and mates are a thing ;) ) though it’s more of a prequel.

The Fall Festival

Before he’d met Caroline, Klaus’ mornings had fallen into a predictable pattern.

He would wake up at the same time, wander into his kitchen to find a full pot of coffee and a pack member or two. Occasionally, there was an emergency. Sometimes there was an issue where his opinion was wanted. Most often, his visitors would come with a problem that could have been solved without Klaus’ input, though he’d never complained.

Klaus had been an outsider once, had become pack leader when the father he’d never known had died, and Marcel had shown up at his door in Chicago. At the time, Klaus had resented the disruption to his life.

Now, he doesn’t understand how he’d survived so long, locking himself in a cage every month.

His mother had explained his parentage when he’d turned twelve, and it had been revelatory, explained why he’d always struggled to wield even a hint of the power that came naturally to his siblings. Esther had told him what to expect, that he’d be dangerous, but she’d refused to tell Klaus anything about the man who’d passed him the werewolf genes, hadn’t even supplied a name.

The rift in their relationship had begun there, had only widened since. When Klaus had chosen to accept his birthright, he’d ensured he’d never be welcome in the home he’d grown up in. He’d never regretted it.

Most of his siblings happily defy their parents to visit, and the pack had become another sort of family.

Three months after Caroline had opened her shop, Klaus had trekked out into the forest to deal with one of the rare emergencies. A scent had been picked up on a security run two days prior, of a young, unfamiliar wolf.

A wolf who proved to have a gift for hiding.

Klaus and his inner circle had been trying to track the interloper, had to find them before the next full moon. His pack had long-standing agreements with the humans and the various local supernatural sects. A young wolf could have jeopardized the easy peace the town enjoyed without meaning to. Klaus and his pack would have had to pay the price.

Young wolves could not always assert human will over animal instincts, which could be deadly if any prey crossed their paths.

And to a werewolf, just about anyone can be prey.

That morning Klaus had decided to head west to an area of that woods that was dense with trees and wildlife. His pack usually leaves it be, understanding that there would be objections if they were to start messing with the local ecosystems. Besides, it offers little opportunity to run, something a werewolf is always eager to do when given a chance.

He’d been moving slowly and silently, examining the ground for prints that looked similar to the ones they believe belong to the young wolf. He’d frequently paused to see if he could pick up a scent, but he’d grown distracted.

Klaus had come across a grove of trees emanating a strange warmth. Curious, he’d rested his hand on the trunk of one.

Only to have the rough bark shiver under his touch and melt away, growing soft and smooth and scented of cherries and spice rather than earth.

He’d snatched his hand back and turned away as soon as he’d realized what was happening, had awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, and wondered if it would be cowardly to flee. He’d heard rustling, soft footsteps, the glide of fabric over skin. Then a woman’s voice, dripping with amusement, “You can turn around now. I’m dressed.”

Klaus had turned slowly. “My apologies. I was unaware I was trespassing.” He’d averted his eyes, realizing that “dressed” wasn’t entirely accurate. The woman had only slipped on a robe, a pale green confection of a garment made from silk and lace, loosely belted and short. He’d looked closely enough to realize she was gorgeous, with a riotous mess of blonde curls framing a flushed face and friendly, curious blue eyes.

His body had reacted, and Klaus had forced himself to begin breathing through his mouth. Her scent had clouded his thoughts, tempted him to step closer.

He hadn’t understood what was happening, why he was reacting so strongly to a stranger.

Klaus might have grown particular about who he invited into his bed, but he was hardly inexperienced or prone to awkwardness in the presence of beautiful women.

He’d gone a little wild when he’d become pack leader five years ago, had freely partaken in pleasure just about any time it was offered. Offers were still coming, but Klaus had largely lost interest, leery of complications that could occur with attachments. At the time, he’d only occasionally indulged when an alluring visitor caught his eyes.

Which hadn’t happened in months.

Why was this woman, not even a wolf, so very compelling?

When he’d clasped his hands behind his back and carefully fixed his attention to just above her forehead, she’d made a noise, an aborted laugh. “Wow, never met a shy werewolf before. You guys are usually super quick to get naked.”

Klaus’ eyes had swung to hers, shocked and a touch suspicious, “How do you know I’m a werewolf?”

Her head had tilted towards the trees, “It’s hard to explain. When I’m in that form, connected to the ground, there’s a heightened amount of intuition. Most supernatural beings pull power from some variety of natural elements, and I can usually tell which one, feel the energy.”

“You’re a dryad,” he’d said slowly. He’d remembered reading about them as a child, in one of his mother’s books. An old, thick tome, with tiny print, that detailed the origin stories of all the known species that walked the earth. He hadn’t recalled much more than the basics, had made a mental note to check if the library in his home had a similar volume.

“Guilty,” she’d chirped. She’d held out her hand, “Caroline Forbes. I bought the bakery in town a couple of months ago. You should stop by sometime.”

He’d shaken her hand, that contact enough to ensure Caroline would never stray from Klaus’ thoughts for long.

That brief brush of her skin on his had spurred a change in Klaus’ morning pattern.

He’d visited Caroline’s bakery the next day. Had rolled out of bed, earlier than he had since he’d been obligated to attend morning meetings, and driven to town. Caroline’s business had been easy to spot, featuring a cheerful striped awning in the same shade of green of the robe Klaus had spent far too many minutes contemplating.

He’d slid into a booth shortly after Caroline had opened up. She’d noticed him, appeared pleased to see him and wiggled her fingers in greeting.

And thus began a new routine.

* * * * *

Caroline smiles at Klaus as soon as he arrives. His face immediately grows suspicious.

Oops. She might have overdone it. Klaus is weirdly adept at spotting ulterior motives, and Caroline needs a teeny, tiny favor.

Which is not to say that she doesn’t look forward to his morning visits. More often than not, they’re the highlight of her day. She happens to have gotten a delivery late yesterday afternoon, one that’s essential to pulling off something she’s been working on for ages, so she’s particularly excited about it. She needs to borrow Klaus’ artistic skills to realize her vision.

That she’ll get to spend a little extra time with him is just a bonus.

He walks up to the counter and leans against it. “You look like you’re plotting something.”

She tilts her head to the side, uses her sweetest tone, “Don’t you think it’s a little early to be accusing me of such a thing?”

She spots the twitch at the corner of his mouth though he maintains an impressively deadpan expression. “Honestly, I suspect you’re usually plotting something.”

Caroline had to give him that one, “Okay, true. I might need a hand from someone who’s more artistically inclined than I am. AKA you.”

“What can I do for you?”

She smiles again, kind of glad that there’s a counter between them because Klaus’ lack of hesitation has her feeling all sorts of fuzzy things, and she very well might have thrown herself at him.

Which is not a thing that they do, though she’s hoping that changes at some point.

“I bought some lights and paint for the window. I splurged on it because it’s supposed to be really pretty, kind of sheer, and shimmery. I was hoping to paint some leaves and vines around the borders of the window, but my test runs were… subpar.”

“Still a bit upset about the Summer Solstice party then?”

Caroline glares without any real ire, “Shh. You know that’s a sore subject!”

She’d been woefully unprepared for just how serious the town took its celebrations. The Summer Solstice had been her first one. She’d nailed the food, had baked up tiny, fluffy meringues, served them with a vanilla peach compote, topped with fresh whipped cream and toasted almonds. Everyone had raved about them. But a few people – mostly the members of the town council who are generally unpleasant and excessively gossipy, in Caroline’s not at all biased opinion – had made snide remarks about her lack of decorations.

She’d been mortified even though it totally hadn’t been her fault. She’d miscalculated, not yet grasping just freaking slow the mail was. She’d had a ton of fresh flowers, but the paper lanterns and candy-colored trays and linens she’d ordered had arrived two days too late.

Caroline’s determined to do better this time and prove that party planning is her super-power, damn it.

Klaus is shrugging out of his jacket, “Show me to the supplies, love.”

“You’re the best!” she exclaims, reaching over to flip up the top of the counter. “Come on, it’s all in my office. Along with my very bad diagrams but feel free only to use them as a guideline. Far be it for little ‘ol me to tell a professional artiste what to paint.”

“Willing to cede control?” he teases. “Shocking.”

Caroline shrugs, “Guess I must trust you.”

Whoops. Caroline means it, but it’s a weighty thing to say.

Klaus has stepped passed the counter, bent to stash his jacket underneath. He freezes, head bowing before he up back at her. “I’m pleased to hear that,” he replies.

Caroline’s teeth sink into her lower lip, and she glances around. A few people are watching her curiously and, though she hates it, she knows now is not the time to dig into anything serious.

Though she’s not sure how much longer she’ll be able to resist.

Caroline clears her throat, heading to her office. She unlocks the door, stepping back to gesture Klaus go in first. She turns around to check that April’s come out from the kitchen, motions that she’ll be back out in ten, and then she joins Klaus.

He’s eyeing the sofa, “How often do you sleep here, sweetheart?”

“How do you… oh, right. Werewolf.”

Caroline’s pretty careful not to think about Klaus’ senses. Intellectually she knows he can probably sniff out all sorts of secrets, that the way she reacts to him is entirely unsubtle. She lives in purposeful denial to avoid melting into a puddle of mortification.

“Rarely. I did it a lot when I was scrambling to get this place opened. Now it’s pretty much just the night of the full moon, or the odd day when there’s a big complicated order.”

“Why the full moon?”

Caroline snorts, “Has it escaped your notice that you guys pack away a ton of food after the full moon? It’s my most profitable day of the month.”

She leans down and hefts the box of paint. Klaus steps forward, “Here, let me.”

Caroline lets him take it off her hands, “You know I’m probably at least as strong as you are, right?”

“I had read that, yes.” His eyes flit over her speculatively, and not for the first time in his presence, she thinks about how nice it would be if telepathy were in her bag of tricks. She knows what she hopes he’s thinking. Caroline’s been spinning fantasies that run the gamut from sweet and sensual to hot and frantic since Klaus first wandered into her grove. She’s pretty confident her interest is reciprocated, but he gives her mixed signals.

Caroline’s naturally tactile. She tends to crank that up when she’s in flirt mode. Klaus is careful to stay at a polite distance. He doesn’t cringe when she touches him, but he doesn’t touch her back either.

It’s confusing.

Caroline had gotten tipsy and whiny about the situation last weekend at the bar. Bonnie had been sympathetic and knowing, refused to spill what she clearly knew. Bonnie had only said, in that infuriatingly cryptic way witches have, that Caroline would figure it out when the time was right.

She and Bonnie haven’t known each other long, but Caroline had sensed she wouldn’t budge. She’d pouted until Enzo had arrived with shots.

Things had gotten a little hazy after that.

“Ah, so you’re just gentlemanly?” Caroline teases, watching as Klaus sets the box on her desk. He’s focused on it, so she takes the opportunity to ogle a little. His grey t-shirt is thin and snug. She’s going to be thinking about the way his muscles shift underneath it when she’s alone.

“Something like that.”

“Well, never let it be said that Caroline Forbes doesn’t pay her debts. I’ll save you a bunch of the desserts I’m making for the festival. I’ve perfected them over the last few days – pumpkin with pecan crumble, a delicious marriage of the best fall pies.”

He shakes his head, a laugh rumbling from low in his throat. “Sounds delicious. Perhaps you’ll save me a dance? There’s always a bonfire once the shops close down.”

Huh. That seems like an unmistakable signal. One Caroline hadn’t expected.

She swallows her initial instinct, the urge to joke about how Klaus must have decided she doesn’t have cooties after all. Caroline licks her lips, wonders if he can hear that her heartbeat has quickened. “I’ll make sure my dance card has a spot for you.”

* * * * *

Klaus finds Marcel in the living room when he comes downstairs on the night of the fall festival. He stops short, dread growing in his stomach. He’d spoken to Marcel earlier, and he hadn’t mentioned stopping by. “What happened?”

Marcel’s eyes narrow, “Is that a new sweater?”

Klaus doesn’t understand how that’s relevant to Marcel’s presence in his home.

He lifts his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for an answer to his question. Marcel grins, “Alright, not in a talkative mood. Heard. No disaster, don’t worry. I added an extra few cases of wine to the regular order last month, remember? Just here to grab them for the festival.”

Right. The pack operates several businesses but nothing with a storefront in town. On festival nights, the shops on Main Street decorate and offer free food or small gifts to anyone who wanders in. The town council covers the food available in the square, and Klaus’ pack supplies a significant portion of the booze (only fair since Klaus is quite sure they partake more than most). For this one, if he remembers correctly, they’re providing mulled wine and spiked hot chocolate while Enzo’s bar will set up kegs.

Klaus nods, relaxing. He glances at the clock on the wall. “I trust you can handle the delivery yourself?”

“Why, got a hot date? I don’t remember you ever doing much more than making an appearance at one of these things. This eagerness to arrive early is interesting.”

Marcel sounds far too knowing. To an extent, as the pack’s second in command, it’s his job to know Klaus’ business. He suspects what Caroline means to Klaus, that his wolf has chosen her, but Klaus has never confirmed it.

He’s been resisting the pull, exerting iron control over his instincts, maintaining a careful amount of distance even when he ached to return her affectionate overtures. And it’s not because he doesn’t want her, but because the bond is permanent. Unbreakable, once it’s solidified.

Klaus’ path is set. Caroline’s not bound by the same magic, not unless she wants to be.

“Obviously, you have this under control,” Klaus says, spinning on his heel. “Lock the door when you leave.”

Marcel’s laughter follows him out of the house.

* * * * *

Caroline’s nervous. More nervous than she’s ever been before a date, and it’s not even a date. She’d selected her outfit carefully. Her cream sweater dress has a wide neckline that’s prone to slipping off her shoulders. She’d selected dark tights for underneath and thigh-high boots, which are saved from being too risqué for a family-friendly event by their minimal heel.

She’s been getting compliments all evening, had smiled politely. She’d picked the outfit with one person in mind.

At nine, Caroline locks up, rushing into her office to let her hair down and touch up her makeup. A tap on the window comes at 9:06. She tucks a curl behind her ear, takes a deep breath, “You are not fifteen. Get it together,” she mutters to herself before she flicks off the lights.

She waves at Klaus through the window, grabs the small box where she’d packed up the portion of tartlets she’d saved for him and her keys.

Main Street is brighter than usual, street lamps lit and wrapped with strands of tiny white lights. Caroline steps outside, her eyes running over Klaus. He’s changed since this morning into darker jeans and a navy sweater. Is it a date outfit? She kinda thinks so.

“Hi,” Caroline says, impressed it’s not a squeak. She doesn’t trust herself to open with a compliment about how he looks – her brain-to-mouth filter is unreliable even when she’s calm, cool, and collected. Instead, she gestures to the windows, “Your paintings were a hit.”

Klaus doesn’t seem to hear her. He swallows heavily. “You look…” he trails off, but Caroline’s not an idiot. She knows exactly what the tiny ring of gold around his irises means.

Caroline’s grateful for the confirmation that her attraction isn’t at all one-sided. Her cheeks heat, “What, this old thing?”

He reaches for her, and Caroline’s heart stutters, mouth going dry. It’s the first time Klaus has made any sort of move, and it feels like the start of something she’ll want to remember.

Though she’s not capable of explaining that certainty at the moment. Caroline can’t claim to have a quiet mind, she’s capable of laser focus, but there’s usually a whole list of thoughts and questions in the background, each clamoring for attention.

Right now, there’s only Klaus and the shrinking distance between their bodies.

His palm lands on her upper arm, warm even through her sweater. His fingers tighten, skimming down, lingering when they meet the bare skin of her wrist before his palm meets hers.

She exhales shakily, returning the pressure. Caroline sways forward until her knees brush Klaus’, and his free hand clasps hers. He leans forward, and the hint of stubble on his face rasps against her cheek. “You are overwhelmingly lovely,” he murmurs, mouth brushing her temple.

Caroline’s lips part, and she’s seconds away from turning her head and rising to her toes when Klaus takes a half step away. He pivots until they stand shoulder to shoulder. He keeps one of her hands, and Caroline follows his lead when he begins to walk towards the town’s center.

She barely registers her surroundings, couldn’t name any of the people they pass or describe the decorations. She only feels Klaus’ hand, the solid strength of him next to her, is only aware of the addictive mix of comfort and anticipation fizzing through her veins.

He pulls her into his arms when they reach the makeshift dancefloor next to the bonfire.

It doesn’t feel like a first dance.

There’s no awkward shuffling or hesitant hand placement. Klaus’ grip on her changes, fingers threading between hers, and he wraps his arm around her waist. Caroline’s body melts into Klaus’, her hand rising to rest against his chest. She shivers when his head dips, his breath skimming across her bare shoulder.

There’s music, but it’s not important. She and Klaus move together seamlessly, closer than they probably should be in public, lost in their own world.

No one dares to disturb them.

[kindness-ricochets]

ur thoughts on wylan and kaz? as characters or ur general hc's for them together after soc or anything else. just ur general thoughts on these characters in tandem.

In writing my response, I rambled for a bit and may and may not have actually answered your question... so while I hope this interests you and is what you meant, feel free to drop a line if I completely missed the mark!

They’re perfect opposites—by which I mean entirely different in all the ways they’re the same.

Wylan and Kaz share an almost absolute emptiness of coherent thought regarding themselves, Wylan emotionally and Kaz physically. Kaz always pushes himself too hard, he never sleeps, he’s basically made of coffee and spite. Wylan can overlook any level of mistreatment because he is so thoroughly conditioned to it, except that he genuinely believes this can be a form of love.

As a result, both deal with grievous personal wrongs using a loved one as a proxy.

Kaz has every reason to hate Pekka Rollins as the architect of his trauma and sometimes he does acknowledge this. He’ll have lines about Pekka taking everything from him. That he “had a lot of things”. It’s about Jordie, always. Avenging Jordie’s death is a perfectly valid motivator, but Kaz takes it to an extreme degree. (This is an interesting contrast between him and Inej, too. Inej recognizes that what was done to her was wrong; though deeply traumatized by it, she is able to recognize that she was mistreated, that she can seek revenge for herself and others like her.)

Wylan has every reason to hate his father. But he doesn’t. Not only doesn’t he, he blames himself every time. Jan wanted a real son, a proper heir, it’s Wylan’s fault; who else would love him enough to be honest with him? It’s only when he learns about Marya that Wylan can begin to process what his father truly is. Eight years of abuse culminating in attempted murder and public humiliation is one thing… not at all intended to downplay the horror of Marya’s situation, not at all! Just that it’s the only way Wylan is able to begin to process his feelings toward his father.

Maybe as an aspect of this, maybe as a coincidence to it, both are very conscious of the people are them—it’s just that Kaz’s consciousness is ruthlessly pragmatic while Wylan’s is sweet. Kaz is always aware of every player, how to use them, and how to manipulate them. Wylan is concerned—about Jesper losing his guns, about Nina catching cold in her skimpy outfit, about Alys who was sweet and silly and meant no harm to anyone. A perfect example is their conversation about Jesper.

[“]Who knows? Jesper may even win his revolvers back.” “I hope so,” said Wylan as they hopped onto a browboat crowded with tourists and headed south down the Stave. “You would.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Someone like Jesper wins two hands and starts to call it a streak. Eventually he loses, and that just leaves him hungrier for the next run of good luck. The house relies on it.” Then why make him walk into a gambling den?

Both have a personal connection to Jesper; Kaz does his closest approximation to loving him as a brother, while Wylan’s little crush is starting to feel like maybe something more. And they have opposite approaches to his addiction. Kaz uses it. Ruthlessly. (Granted, this is Kaz at his lowest, but it’s not especially different from how he treated Jesper in the beginning of Six of Crows.) Wylan wants to acknowledge his problem and help him avoid his addiction. He doesn’t want Jesper to have to suffer the loss of something important to him. This also shows in how Wylan and Kaz think about each other. Near the end of Six of Crows, Kaz essentially thinks that he doesn’t care about Wylan’s dyslexia because Wylan has other talents, other uses. Wylan thinks near the middle of Crooked Kingdom that he knows Kaz had other motives, but he still helped Wylan a lot, and is a friend. Kaz’s evaluations are weighed by use, Wylan’s by emotional impact.

Now I’m going to get nerdy. Even more so. When I did developmental psychology, my favorite was always Erikson, who essentially broke human development into stages of crisis and resolution. The 4th is “industry vs. inferiority”—basically, competence. And they resolve to extreme opposite ends of the spectrum. Kaz is industrious, competent and capable, determined from the moment he was reborn in that canal. He doesn’t stop. He makes plans and acts on them. Wylan feels inferior, and often struggles—even with things he knows how to do, he needs to be told to do them, or can’t quite put two and two together about the situation around him. (The fact that Wylan’s crisis comes to a more positive resolution, that he begins to develop competence, throughout Crooked Kingdom is… frankly, wonderful. Wylan wasn’t inherently bad at things. He just didn’t have support to grow.)

These opposite resolutions also relate to where they fall on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. Kaz is left without the most basic things, physiological and safety needs, things like food, water, and shelter. He has to adapt and he has to adapt fast—because he’s alone. And if he’s going to survive, if he’s going to see Jordie given justice, he needs to get to work. Wylan has those needs met, placing him at the point of psychological needs—belongingness, love, esteem. Jan took care of Wylan’s basic needs, but dealt him blow after blow toward his psychological needs through isolation and emotional abuse. This highlights another difference: Kaz’s damage wasn’t dealt by someone who hated him. Pekka was just indifferent. The Barrel was full of lost children who would take a mouthful of bread from a weaker boy because they needed it to survive. It was indifference, for Kaz. But for Wylan, it was at best disdain, at worst hatred.

This sets them apart from the other Crows. Inej was 14 when she was taken by slavers. Jesper was around 16 when he was sent to Ketterdam for university. Nina was 16 or 17 when the Fjerdans took her captive. Matthias was I think 11 when he lost his family, which places him just on the cusp of two of Erikson’s stages, but the relevant resolution is to the fifth stage of identity vs. confusion—basically, “Who am I, and who can I become?” Those four developed competence in a more or less healthy way (purely in terms of competence since two were basically child soldiers, but still). Whereas Kaz overcompensates with relentlessness and Wylan freezes up. Both have this sort of jagged place inside them at exactly that point, that the others simply don’t have.

To me, this explains why Kaz and Wylan have the weakest balance between personal and professional lives. Kaz is always plotting, scheming. He has to learn to take a break from the monster and be the man. Wylan is locked up in his own mind. In his first narrated chapter, his first narrated page, he tells us that he feels out of place and doesn’t even know where to put his hands to look normal. Kaz is ready to take over the world while Wylan just wants to exist in his own little corner of it.

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

Gibbous Chapter 9

Chapter Title: The Thought of Fresh Meat Is Making Me Ill

Summary:  It was October. A month full of cheer for the macabre. A month where humans gleefully wore the skins of those they saw as monsters. A month that Virgil generally enjoyed. It was the one month out of the year where he felt the most alive. Yet somehow, for this year’s October, he felt dead inside. Like his body had turned into the rotting corpse of a zombie and his soul was somehow still trapped inside.

Pairings: platonic lamp & platonic sleepxiety

Chapter Word-Count: 5503

Warnings:  Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Anxiety, Depression, Paranoia, Arguing, Disassociation, Sensory Overload (Yeah this one isn't gonna be a particularly happy one, Virgil Is Spiraling Mentally Big Time)

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Surprise b*tch, bet you thought you saw the last of me! I'm back for my yearly update--this chapter is dedicated to all the lovely comments people have left on previous chapter! Also!! I rewrote a significant amount of Crescent Chapter 3 and added onto Gibbous Chapter 5, the latter you might want to reread as it adds a bit to the opening scene of this chapter.

Chapter title taken from "I know I'm a Wolf" from the Young Heretics!

-

In books, there was always a perfect, logical sense of progression. Stories were generally told in a three-act structure. The setup, the midpoint and the resolution. The beginning of a story established the protagonist to the reader. It gave you details about their personality, their way of living, their wants and desires. Then the protagonist found themselves upended by an inciting incident.

Something that caused their way of living to never again be the same. Tension grew and grew as they sought to come about a way to continue living. Until it reached a climax, one where after which, they either thrived or withered away. In which case, the story ended as the protagonist returned to a new sense of normalcy.

One that would last until the next inciting incident came along to shake up their world once again.

Once one found this pattern, it was hard to ever see stories the same way again. There were certain things to always expect—things you could decipher before the story’s end. Real life, however, wasn’t quite like that.

Or at least this was what Logan had come to find. Sure, in many ways events in life played out like stories. There was an inciting incident, something that arose tension as one sought to solve the dilemma. It just wasn’t as neatly bound together like a story or even a math equation. Life was messy, complicated—it threw in plot twists or details that critics would claim lazy and unbelievable.

Logan was harshly reminded of this in the case of one Virgil Raine. He couldn’t understand—he was doing everything right, remaining patient and giving Virgil a chance to open up to Logan on his own time. Yet the human shied further and further away, all development he made since working at the library immediately erased. Virgil even shut out all notions of spending time outside work without explanation. It’d been weeks at this point with no result despite the attempts of Logan, Patton and even Remy, who was arguably the closet with Virgil.

Perhaps this was something that should be expected. Virgil rarely spoke about his past, but what little he shared, he had to fend mostly for his own from a young age. Whoever hurt Virgil caused him to believe again he couldn't rely on anyone but himself.

Logan was not a particularly violent person. He'd been ignorantly cruel once upon a time, yes, but even back then he wasn't one to have the urge to kill people. The wolfish part of him begged to differ, as always. His instincts howled at him to find that person and tear them limb to limb. Better yet, they demanded he snatch Virgil away and bring him against his will to the pack, to safety. As much as Logan wanted this, logically he knew Virgil might never fully trust Patton or himself ever again despite their good intentions. Illogically, he couldn’t bring himself to do the one thing he swore he’d never do again, even if it was for Virgil's safety.

He pondered this, sitting in front of a mountain of paperwork. It was late, too late for him to still be at the library. He couldn’t bring himself to move from his desk, not until he figured something out. He gnashed sharpened teeth in agitation, gripping his hair with claw-like fingernails. It didn't help that normally this time of the month, his cognitive thinking skills were usually in a different state of being. If he wasn't careful, the cleaning staff might find a wolf rampant in the library the next morning.

His phone rang just then, some meme-related ringtone Roman picked out that he’d found funny. Logan snatched it up and answered it.

“Patton, listen, I will be home soon I am just finishing up—”

“I’m not Patton,” The person on the other line cut in, “It’s me, Remy.”

“Oh,” Logan cleared his throat, thrown off by this revelation, “is something the matter?”

“Yeah, something’s the matter alright,” Remy said, his voice hoarse, “I fucked up big time with Virgil.”

 -

It was October. A month full of cheer for the macabre. A month where humans gleefully wore the skins of those they saw as monsters. A month that Virgil generally enjoyed. It was the one month out of the year where he felt the most alive. Yet somehow, for this year’s October, he felt dead inside. Like his body had turned into the rotting corpse of a zombie and his soul was somehow still trapped inside.

He supposed it had something to do with how September slipped from his fingers much in the way that his phone slipped from Jerad’s fingers. Falling all the way down, down, down, breaking upon the asphalt below into a million tiny pieces. Tried as he might, the memory haunted him in the waking world as well as his dreams.

 Only, in his dreams, sometimes it was him that fell to the ground. Like a shoddy version of Humpty Dumpty. Remy, Patton and Logan would try to fix him to no avail. They’d always leave, scoffing that it wasn’t worth it. He couldn’t cry or reach out towards them, begging for them to return. He could only lay there, broken and bleeding, watching as they abandoned him. Sometimes Roman showed up to gloat, mocking him for thinking they ever cared for him.

The worst thing about it? He knew it was going to happen in real life. It was only a matter of time. Even Jerad knew this.

“C’mon, you really want to hang out with them and not me, your friend?” Jerad scoffed, “what have they done for you? Have they helped out you when you couldn’t pay rent? Replaced your shitty phone for the best smartphone out there?”

“Well no but—”

“Face it, V-Man, they’re using you. They set you up with a new job, making you beholden to them and it’s sickening! They don’t actually care about you. Once they’ve had their fun jerking you around, they’ll just throw you out with the garbage. And I don’t want you coming to me, bawling like a baby, when it happens!”

As much as Jerad was a jerk, Virgil knew deep down he was right. He’d been so ecstatic at their displays of friendship, he didn’t even stop to consider it was all a façade. Maybe they themselves thought it was real, that they actually cared for him. But eventually they’ll realize the truth. That he’s a loser and nothing more.

Or maybe they already knew the truth and were merely toying with him. Virgil was just a human, mortal through and through. Remy, Patton and Logan were all near-immortal, unkillable save a well-placed piece of silver and a stake of wood in Remy’s case. At least with Jerad, he was honest. He knew Virgil was a loser and made it clear he only hung out with Virgil because it was better than nothing.

Jerad had been nice to Virgil lately—or nice as Jerad could be at least. He’d insisted on occasionally giving Virgil rides to and from work. An offer Virgil couldn’t refuse—no matter how hard his heart thudded against his chest with Jerad’s sharp swerves and his blaring car radio. He taken to asking about Virgil’s day even, asking where he’d been and what he’d been doing. He even took Virgil out to bars and clubs in an attempt to get him to loosen up.

Virgil wanted to tell him he’d rather set himself on fire than willingly enter a noisy nightclub. However every time his lips went to form those words, he found himself saying yes always. So that was how he found himself dissociating in a noisy nightclub, holding onto a pink-colored alcoholic beverage he faked taking a sip from.

A hand knocked jokingly against his forehead. “Yo, Virgin!”

Virgil blinked, his gaze blearily onto Jerad. It was hard to concentrate with all the flashing lights and loud music. He wanted to crawl underneath his beloved purple fleece blanket in his dark, silent bedroom and never leave. But he couldn’t leave just yet. Jerad had been nice to take him along to the club. If he’d asked leave now, he’d get upset. He knew eventually Jerad would get upset at him for something, but he preferred to delay that as long as possible.

“Yeah?” Virgil mumbled, curling his fingers tighter around the alcoholic drink that had been hoisted upon him. Jerad knew he didn’t like alcohol—it was something he ridiculed Virgil about constantly. He always insisted on Virgil drinking, saying he’d stop being a pussy and man up eventually about it.

“Are you high or something? You looked like you were seeing into the third dimension or something.”

Virgil shrugged. Jerad laughed at that, patting him on the back. Virgil tensed from each thud of Jerad’s hand, but he did not flinch or move away. It was a friendly gesture on Jerad’s part. If he wanted to really hurt Virgil, he would’ve put more force behind it.

“Probably not! You’re too much of an anxious wimp,” Jerad said, downing the contents of his drink, “but let me know if you ever get man enough to try it—your good friend Jerad has connections.”

“Okay.” Virgil said, his voice sounding far off in the distance to his own ears.

Jerad laughed again, and then started rambling about something probably among the lines of his most recent hookup, his parents being jerks for not giving him a new sports car or the latest college professor he deemed a complete idiot. Virgil stared at him, nodding all the right moments yet barely processed any of the words being directed his way.

 Even with lungs filled with air and a warm beating heart, Virgil felt nothing. He was nothing. A worthless sentient waste of space. Like an ugly mutt nobody wanted that should be euthanized to end its miserable existence.

His phone—the replacement one Jerad gave him—vibrated in his pocket. A text, no doubt from one of the others. The fourth one this night. Virgil’s hand twitched, refraining from looking at it in the presence of Jerad. Virgil didn’t feel like losing a second phone within a month of the first.

“Um, hey,” Virgil interrupted, wincing, “I gotta go use the bathroom, is that alright?”

“’Is that alright?’” Jerad mimicked in a high pitch tone, “Dude, is this elementary school or something? You want a hall pass? Me to hold your hand the whole way there?”

Virgil stared at him.

Jerad rolled his eyes, “Go ahead, whatever. I don’t care if you take a dump, just be quick with it.”

“Thanks.” Virgil bit out, running off before Jerad could change his mind.

He twisted and pivoted around the crowd of sweaty, glistening bodies wearing skimpy clothing. The bright neon lights and loud music warped around him like something out of a nightmare. Eventually he made it to the restrooms and locked himself in the nearest stall. The pulse of his heart roaring in his ears, he drew the phone of his pocket.

Four New Text Notifications from Patton

Patton: [Image of a black cat that looked approximately a year old. It appeared to be nestled close to Patton’s chest, staring up at the camera in wide-eyed stare.]

Patton: Look at what I found on my evening walk! Isn’t she the cutest??

Patton: I’m trying to convince Logan to let me keep her. Maybe you can come visit tomorrow and meet her??

Patton: It’s ok if not! I know you’ve been busy and I want to let you know I’m here for you, you can come to me about anything okay?

Virgil’s vision blurred a bit. He didn’t understand it. Why hadn’t Patton given up already? It’s been weeks since he’s sent Patton a text. He’d been terrified, too, really. And in the few times he ran into Patton at the library, he made excuses and scurried the other way.

Logan was at least kind enough to exchange a few pleasantries and keep their verbal interactions work-oriented. And Remy? They still delved deep into discussions about their taste in music but there was an awkward unspoken agreement not to bring up what happened that one morning. Virgil also shied from hanging outside of work, hoping Remy would eventually forget about him. It seemed to be working; Remy hadn’t offered to hang out in about a week or so.

But Patton? Patton seemed determined to stay in contact with Virgil, sending his dumb silly memes and cute animal videos. He sent good morning and good night texts, while making sure Virgil knew he could respond to them on his own time. On one hand, it made sense—this was the same Patton who saved a complete stranger’s life for literally no reason. On the other hand, he wished Patton would give up. It would made things easier, make it hurt less for everyone.

His phone buzzed with a new text notification.

Jerad: Dude, did you fall in or something?

Virgil swallowed, wiping away any stupid tears running down his face. As he typed a response to Jerad with shaky hands, the bathroom door slammed open, banging against the wall. He almost dropped his phone in the process, silently cursing at how close he’d been to breaking yet another phone.

Several loud booming voices filled the bathroom, peppered with obnoxious laughter every half second. Virgil shut his eyes, resisting the urge to cover his ears also in the process. The noise was too much. It was too much in the club outside, but all those voices echoing off the small crammed walls of the bathroom made Virgil want to scream.

The door creaked open yet again, the voices venturing away from Virgil. Good, they were leaving so Virgil could finally self-destruct in peace. Or so he thought, as a set of footsteps stopped abruptly, wavering. The club music blasted from the doorway, drowning out whatever discussion took place.

Then the door swung shut, the roaring club music muted once more. Virgil waited, breath catching in his throat as the single set of footsteps took a couple strides towards him. Oh god, this was how he was going to die, wasn’t he? This was probably some serial killer with an obsession of killing people in night club restrooms.

This was, of course, the moment his phone started vibrating in his hand. A call. Someone was calling him in the final moments of his life. Virgil looked down at the caller id; Remy. His heartrate spiked, dancing so painfully close to what a heart attack must feel like. Why was Remy calling him? Was he at last going to tell him he was done with Virgil forever?

Virgil almost wanted to ignore the call. But then he glanced at the black boots hovering near his stall and gave it a second thought. If this was going to be how his life ended, it’d probably be best to say goodbye to someone at least. Sucking a breath in, he pressed the green phone icon and held the phone to his ears.

“Hi?” He whispered.

“Hey Virgil,” Remy said, echoing oddly in Virgil’s ears, “what are you up to tonight?”

Virgil glanced down at the black boots menacingly close to his stall, “Umm, I’m just home, chilling.”

“That’s a lie, Hon. I know you’re hiding in a stall of this bathroom.”

“W-what are you talking about?” Virgil couldn’t breathe.

Remy sighed, sounding so similar to the person outside the stall, “Please, let’s talk face to face, alright?”

This was some sort of trick to lure him out of the stall, wasn’t it? Still, with the hand not clutching tightly to his phone, he reached out and unlatched the stall door.

Remy stood there, expression hidden under his black shades. His hair was slicked back with gel, shimmering with a glitter of some sort. He wore his iconic black leather jacket with a black crop top underneath. His whole outfit was black, in fact, down to his ripped jeans and the ankle-length boots. Virgil had seen him wear something similar before to a college event he’d taken Virgil to.

“W-what are you doing here?” Virgil demanded.

“I could ask you the same,” Remy responded, eyebrows raised above his shades, “this isn’t your scene, Virge. What are you doing here?”

“I’m not answering unless you answer.” Virgil said, trying to ignore how much he sounded like a toddler.

“A few of my homies from the art program wanted to celebrate the end of mid-terms. This is the night club most of the college body hangs at.” Remy crossed his arms.

“And how did you know I was in here?”

“A few keen observations,” Remy mustered a thin smile. He tapped his nose for emphasis before drawing his finger close to his lips. Virgil’s eyes widened in understanding. Vampire senses, then. “But mostly, I’d recognize those faded converse of yours anywhere.”

“O-oh.”

“I answered your question, now it’s your turn, Virge.”

“I…” Virgil said, the rest of his words strangled in his throat. His phone buzzed in his hand; another impatient text from Jerad no doubt. He didn’t bother to look at it, choosing to focus on taking a breath in rather than going unconscious from a lack of oxygen.

He could tell Remy the truth. That he’d gone with Jerad—his roommate whom he used to complain to Remy about all the time. But then Remy would ask why he was with Jerad and then—well. Then Virgil would have tell him what happened the time he found him the night his phone broke and well, Virgil wasn’t ready for that. He couldn’t tell Remy about his humiliating mistake.

“I…went here to have a good time completely by myself.” Virgil withheld himself from wincing because wow that didn’t sound weird or suspicious in the slightest, “So you can go catch up with your friends or whatever, I’m good hanging out right here.”

“Right here, in the restroom?”

“Yeah.”

“Honey,” Remy said, his voice washed with some emotion Virgil couldn’t identify, “Let’s ditch this shithole and go somewhere else.”

“W-what—but your friends—” Virgil stammered.

“—will be fine without me. N-G-L they’ll probably too trying to give themselves alcohol poison even realize I’m gone,” Remy shrugged his shoulders, “besides, you don’t seem as gucci as you say you are in here and it’s been a while since we really hung out hung out, y’know?”

Virgil stubbornly directed his gaze away from Remy, jaw tightening. It had to be okay, didn’t it? Jerad was most likely to get too drunk to even coherent colors, let alone that Virgil slipped off without him. Maybe he wouldn’t be mad. Maybe he wouldn’t fly into a rage and come close to hanging him off a balcony. Besides Remy would be even more suspicious if he said no.

Virgil sighed, holding the home button on the phone until it shut off completely. That way he wouldn’t have to deal with Jerad calling him, demanding to know where he’d disappear off to, despite ditching Virgil all the time without warning.

“Alright, fine.”

Remy smiled, his teeth looking a little too sharp for Virgil’s liking. Wordlessly he turned aside and reached for the bathroom door.

Virgil swallowed, shoving the phone in his pocket to be forgotten about. Tried as he might, he still flinched as lively blare of the club’s music and flashing lights greeted him with full force. He froze, cowering before the threshold of the door. A hand landed on his shoulder, soft and gentle.

“Virgil?” Remy asked, his brows furrowing together.

Molten lava settled in the pit of Virgil’s stomach—pity. That was the expression on Remy’s face he couldn’t identify at first. He didn’t want pity; Virgil knew what pity meant. He didn’t want pity of any kind, it reminded him too much of the foster parents that looked at him like he was some feral dog that could be whipped into obedience. And sure, Remy had never hurt him but it didn’t mean Virgil forgotten about that morning spent at Remy’s dorm a month back.

Eyes lit up with a burning, controlled fire. Words hissed through a clenching jaw, “Tell me their name and I’ll beat them up for you.”

If Remy was willing to hurt who he deemed as threats to Virgil, who’s to say he wouldn’t be willing to hurt Virgil? To reprimand Virgil, to let him know how much of an idiot he was being? It sounded absurd, even now, because he’d known Remy for almost a year. Remy had plenty opportunities up to now to do something and hadn’t. Yet he was a vampire; years were nothing to him. He had plenty of time to wait for Virgil to slip up in some way and make his irritation known.

And Virgil knew by now to expect the other shoe to drop in a relationship—it was why he distanced himself, isolated himself to solely to work and his cramped little room at the apartment. He was foolish to believe Remy, Patton and Logan were different. Logan and Patton especially—what was he thinking? Patton saved him, sure, but Logan had been hellbent on locking him in their basement for the eternity of time. Why had ever he allowed himself to accept their apologies, to believe something was going right in his life for once?

“I’m fine.” Virgil snarled, shoving himself forward. It was like marching into a warzone, the music assaulted his ears and rattled uncomfortably against his chest cavity. He grimaced, keeping his eyes towards the floor, away from the flashing lights. He stopped a bit before the ocean of bodies that stood between them and the entrance.

He knew if he looked up, he could make out the back of Jerad’s shirt from his spot at the bar. Stupid, this was so stupid. Why had he allowed himself to get talk into this by Remy? There was no doubt in his mind that Jerad would catch him trying to leave and rightfully demand why he was ditching him for Remy. It was a shit thing to do, after all.

Friends don’t ditch one another without explanation. Jerad left him, sure, but he always had an explanation after the fact. Virgil didn’t think Jerad would like his explanation very much. Especially when it involved Remy, one of the people Jerad had been trying to warn him about.

A hand gracefully looped itself around one of his own, tugging him off to the side rather than through the crowd. Virgil looked to see Remy guiding them towards a set of doors, ones clearly marked for employees only.

“Remy—”

“Shhh, this is a faster way outta here, trust me.” He said, flashing a smile. Perhaps it was meant to be comforting but for Virgil it only caused his stomach to churn.

Right before they made it to the doors, an employee materialized in front of them. “Excuse me, sirs, you’re not allowed back here—”

“Cindy, gurl, remember me, Lansing? Worked here last summer? Do you remember, yeah?” Remy lowered his shades to take a look at her. Virgil peered behind him, unable to view Remy’s face. He could see Cindy’s face, however. Her face pinched up in confusion, frowning, before abruptly smoothening out with a wide grin stretched from ear-to-ear. She looked right at Remy, her gaze shifting entirely off of Virgil as if he no longer existed.

“Lansing, oh! Oh yes, I remember.” Cindy said, with a high-pitched laugh. Virgil shrunk further back into Remy’s shadow, squeezing Remy’s hand tightly. Something was wrong and he didn’t like it. Remy never mentioned working as a bartender—and that wasn’t quite something Remy would be quiet about. Virgil could just  picture the outrageous bartending stories he’d have if that was the case.

Remy laughed along with her, light and airy.

“Good, then can ya do a fellow former co-bartender a favor and let us slip through, just this once?”

“Gurl, of course, just if you caught don’t let Gregory know I was the one that let you pass.” She leaned in conspiratorially, face twitching a bit.

“Oh don’t worry, you won’t see us again, in fact forget that you even saw us. I’d love to stay and catch up, but I bet you have things to do.”

She laughed again at that. “Yes, of course. It was nice seeing you, Lansing, but I have to go.”

Cindy hurried off, quickly dissipating through the crowd. Virgil blinked; what the fuck? What the fuck was that—

He didn’t even have time to process the encounter before Remy led them into the dimly lit back hallway of the nightclub. Whether it was a faster way out of the nightclub was debatable. For all his talk about previously working there, Remy seemed just as lost as Virgil in the winding hallway. He led them one direction, only to immediately pivot down the other way.

Remy wasn’t talking. Remy was always talking endlessly, as if speaking was as vital as oxygen to him. He was terrible at whispering too—something Logan would get on him about at the library. That was why he was usually stuck on front desk duty to speak with patrons, helping out at events or doing organizational work in the back office. For Remy to be this silent, like the brooding calm before a storm, well. Virgil’s lungs wanted to seize up right then and there.

Eventually, they made to a door that opened out to an alleyway, right where the night club kept its dumpster. The moon gleamed from her perch in the sky, nearly full but not quite. Like a cookie with a bite taken out of it. Virgil knew there was terms for the different phases of the moon. His mother loved taking him out to see the night sky. She’d point out the constellations and tell him what phase the moon that night was.

He wished he could remember, for her sake, what they were. Considering he knew actual werewolves, you’d think he pay better attention to it. But it was a topic Virgil never felt brave enough to venture and one that neither Patton nor Logan opened up much on their own about.

He stared at the moon, transfixed, that he almost forgotten the reason he was outside in the first place. Not until Remy murmured something before attempting to lead him off somewhere. The gaping dread from moments prior seized hold of him once more.

“No!” Virgil snapped, yanking his hand out of Remy’s grip. He stumbled backwards a few steps, slamming himself into a wall of the building in the process.

“Virgil?” Remy asked, frowning as he took a step  forward.

“What the hell was that back there?”

“What do you mean—”

“Don’t act stupid!” Virgil demanded, taking a shaky breath, “That lady—Cindy—you did something, I—I don’t know, she was acting weird! And—and you were acting weird! So I’m asking again; What. The Hell. Was. That?”

Remy stared at him, his breath hitching, “Virgil, I was just trying to get you to a quiet place ASAP before you—”

“You’re still not answering the question.” Virgil cut in, his intestines tightening themselves into knots over it. Because maybe this was just a classic case of Virgil paranoia striking again. Maybe he really was driving himself into a panic attack over nothing. Maybe he was accusing Remy unjustly.

Yet, if that was the case why would Remy flinch if Virgil struck him physically with his words?

“Virgil,” Remy said slowly, “I need you not to panic and hear me out, ok?”

Virgil’s heartrate accelerated. Not panic, not panic?! What did Remy expect but for him to panic at those words?

“Okay.” Virgil said, definitely panicking.

“What have you’ve heard about vamps?”

“That they—you drink blood. And your reflection doesn’t show up in mirrors—and—and if you get bitten by a vampire, you’ll either turn into one or get mind controlled.”

“All technically true, well I mean—there’s a fuck-ton more to the turning process than that—” Remy cut himself off, “That’s beside the point. The point is, what you call mind-control, we call ‘enthralling.’ Enthralling is…”

“Is what?”

“Enthralling is, well. It’s a form of hypnosis. Anyone enthralled by a vampire is mostly aware of it and the least likely they are to follow a vampire’s suggestions, the more likely they are to fight against the hypnosis. And it can be activated through eye-contact which is what I did to Cindy.”

Virgil couldn’t breathe. Suddenly pieces were slotted together in mind, forming a picture Virgil never wanted to envision. That faint but visceral memory of Remy with red eyes, the natural charisma Remy held with anyone he met, how Remy managed to steal confidential information from Virgil’s employee file in the back office of Kirby’s Burgers—all of it. He thought Remy, out of anybody, was safe. Past his sassy, laidback exterior, Remy was honest, willing to speak his mind about anything and everything.

If Remy enthralled a complete stranger without blinking an eye—who’s to say he wasn’t above doing it to Virgil? Who’s to say he hadn’t enthralled Virgil into being his friend? Who’s to say Virgil wasn’t an oblivious mouse in a game of cat and mouse? Oh gods, this had just confirmed all of Virgil’s worst fears and more.

“Virgil—” Remy said, reaching out, his eyes hidden beneath his shades. He continued speaking, a mumble jumbo string of excuses probably. Virgil couldn’t stand to stay around and listen to it.

“Stop—just don’t—” Virgil stuttered, taking one step and then another towards the open sidewalk. What was just a few steps then became a few hundred until he found himself leaning against the door to the apartment, hands shaking to slot the key to unlock it.

A few more steps he was inside, the usual musty smell an unexpected comfort. He sat on the couch, seconds stretching into eternity. He half-expected Remy to have chased after him, demanding Virgil to listen, why couldn’t you just listen, you’re so stupid no wonder you’re pathetic—

Virgil blinked a few times, his eyes burning with some sort of irritation. For some reason, Remy let him go. He couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad thing. His head ached and so did his ears for some reason.

 Jerad entered the apartment a few millennia later. Virgil froze at the rattling doorknob, his hand clutching onto his phone in his pocket.

“There you are, you fucker!” Jerad drawled, stumbling over in a drunken stupor. His hand moved towards Virgil, but not with a closed fist. Instead he patted him on the back like earlier, “I can’t believe you did it! You finally got the balls to go and hook up with somebody! I guess I can’t call you Virgin, now huh?”

“Uh-huh,” Virgil murmured, not correcting him on that assumption. He sat there, a bit of tension draining from him. Jerad wasn’t mad for abandoning him. Jerad was still a jerk, but at least Virgil mostly knew what to expect of him. It wasn’t ideal, but that was life. It was better to deal with the devil you knew, then the devil you didn’t know. Virgil was stupid to have ever thought otherwise.

“My parents are being such dicks at the moment,” Jerad said, precipitously changing topics as per usual of him, “sometimes I wish I didn’t have to wait until they were dead to take my inheritance and do what I want to do, y’know?”

Virgil didn’t really know. Did his parents leave him money? They had to have had some sort of savings stashed away. A life insurance of some sort, right? It wasn’t like they were poor. He never thought about inquiring into that. Jerad accidentally slapped Virgil across the arm with a huge hand gesture, still ranting about something. Maybe it wasn’t an accidental hit.

Virgil didn’t know. His tether on reality felt weak, like a balloon close to floating away into the stratosphere. He almost wished he could float away, but the weight in his chest said otherwise. Jerad passed out not long after his rant, slumped half on the floor and half on the sofa. Virgil took this opportunity to slip into the comfort of his bedroom and turn on his cellphone once more.

 Seventeen new text notifications and five missed calls from Jerad greeted him, along with one new text notification from Logan. He clicked on Logan’s and his conversation, staring at Logan’s text at the bottom of it.

Logan: Virgil, Remy wanted me to inform you that he is taking a leave of absence from work. Please let me know if you need to take a leave of absence as well or need to confide in somebody as a friend, Patton or I would be happy to listen.

Virgil stared at it some more. Then he tapped out a short response, set the phone on the stool that was his makeshift nightstand and collapsed headfirst into his mattress. 

Virgil: K thanks, I’m fine

-

A/N: Hope everyone is doing well, if you enjoyed the chapter please consider leaving a comment--it's completely free and helps me out as a fanfic writer a ton! I'm technically not in the Sanders Sides fandom anymore, but I still have a lotta fondness for this fic and I will finish it, even if takes me ten years to do so :') -Kat

[thecreedsgambit]

Sam Dalton, CEO

author's note: i’m not entirely sure what it is that draws me to sam, but i actually enjoy the nanny affair. despite my uppity claims that i would turn my nose up at the plot (which i, in fact, do) and that i would deny choices the satisfaction of spending endless amounts of diamonds on smutty, indecent scenes with a completely fictional man (which i, in fact, do not do), i cannot ignore my attraction toward sam dalton. it has little to do with his personality and intent. quite frankly, i blame it on the soundtrack. there’s a particular track that’s smooth - almost sexily playful - like a steamy but timid caress that throws a casual smirk at potential and possibility. i’ve grown fond of it, and, of course, it’s the very track that plays when sam freshly enters any scene. so, yes, i completely blame the soundtrack. it’s possible i’ve somehow drawn a loose connection between it and sam. whatever it is, i will continue to read tna and roll my eyes at choices seemingly unobstructed ability to rope me into whatever they present me with (much like sam dalton, i suppose).

"for you, i'll risk it all." - unknown

00. At a Glance.

affiliate: the nanny affair

pairing: m!sam x reader

word count: 1972 (fairly short, i know. but this was poking my imagination after today's chapter. i couldn't deny myself the freedom of writing it down.)

summary: you and sam continue to make eye contact during the regatta, despite your pr plan to lie low and ‘meet-cute,’ if that’s what an outsider might refer to it as.

You had long since forgotten the races. In fact, your eyes weren’t trained on the glistening yachts before you. Instead, your gaze latched onto the picturesque waterfront. The sun’s rays bore into the blue depths beyond where you sat, casting a faint reflection that rippled with every rise and fall of the tide. Slowly, methodically, as if your eyes might blink shut at any moment, you let your gaze lazily trace the waves as they lapped against the dock and collapsed against one another, like a playful fight between two warring siblings.

As if on cue, Mason and Mickey billowed past you with a giggling Jovi in their wake. Jordan scrambled after them, sending you an apologetic smile over his shoulder, before calling - rather, begging - for them to slow down. A short chuckle escaped your lips as you returned your sights to the race before you. Your head tilted, just slightly, as the sun cradled your cheek and warmed your skin with the softest touch.

It was nice. A brief moment to rest from the pressure to look and be impressive. For once, being impressed made a rush of tension leave your already heavy shoulders. The majestic waters and stunning views were enough to draw awe and calm the seemingly desperate need to feel warranted and respected.

Your dignity, poise, and grace sloped, only slightly, as you let your shoulders drop and your hands take refuge on your wrist as you fiddled with one of your bracelets.

For just a moment, you were you. And that was enough.

“No, please. Go on, Will.” Marisol’s voice nearly wrenched you from your stupor. You straightened and resumed your position as a subtle reflection of your new peers you’d almost forgotten sat on your right. Marisol gave you an amused smirk, as if hinting for you to join her harmless teasing. “Perhaps your ramblings about the history of yachting might help me place a few bets.”

Marisol took a small sip of her wine, hiding a whimsical smile behind the tip of her glass. Will only huffed and reluctantly turned his attention back to the race. You bit your lip in an attempt to conceal the grin threatening to lace your earnest expression. You feigned a swat on Marisol’s arm before speaking.

“Oh, Will. Marisol’s only joking. I would love to hear the rest.”

With a quick turn back toward the table, Will grinned triumphantly, clearly elated. “I knew it. At least someone appreciates my genius.”

“I’m sure,” Marisol mumbled, taking another quick sip of her drink to avoid bursting into a fit of laughter.

You dared to throw a sly smirk in her direction before giving in and facing Will directly. He’d already dove into several backstories regarding yachting, each going unfinished as he hurried into the next with enough excitement for the three of you combined. A genuine smile graced your lips as you, momentarily, reveled in his enthusiasm.

Unfortunately, much like your attention on the race, your attentiveness was short-lived. As was your politeness.

For a moment, your gaze slipped once more toward the luminescent waters. You had every intention of returning to the conversation at hand and concentrating on whatever quips Marisol was currently, and once again, uttering toward Will, but your eyes regarded the crowd, instead. Briefly, ever so quickly, you made eye contact with him - with Sam.

He had long since fixed his own sights on you. Normally, your heart would flutter and your stomach would lurch at the slightest glance. Reflexively, you’d wander toward him like a moth drawn to a fiery flame, waiting to be engulfed by his very presence. Even under these circumstances, you wanted to. You wanted to make your way toward him and let your fingers get lost in his hair; public images be damned.

But everything you worked toward thus far hung over your head and your shoulders - a load almost too burdensome to carry.

Your eyes widened with alarm, quickly flitting toward Will and Marisol. Not here.

Sam stood in a semicircle with three other men, who seemed to be lost in a conversation Sam took no interest in. His arms rested at his sides, and his fingers swirled a small glass of whiskey, as he continued his ruthless - almost challenging - stare. It didn’t take long for your demeanor to falter and a restless smile dared to break your masked facade. You tried desperately not to squirm under the intensity of his gaze, so you looked away, forcing yourself to come to terms with the ever-enchanting thrills of yacht history.

Except that topic was long gone, and Marisol was waving her hand at a dismayed Will. “You say that every year. Placing a higher bet on Estate Sail hardly makes things any more interesting.”

“What would you propose, then?”

You couldn’t help but to lose focus almost as quickly as you'd gained it; your entire form now rigid under Sam’s steely gaze. Sparing a quick glance in his direction, you noticed he’d done little to disguise his observation of you. Slowly, painfully so, he brought his whiskey glass to his lips and took a slow drink. His eyes never once left yours.

It was intoxicating. Entirely too heavy. Your chest nearly felt hollow as your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach and heat rushed to your cheeks.

Your own stare fell to his chest, sweeping over his broad frame as you consumed every aspect of his person. The purple button-down he wore was quickly becoming your favorite as your eyes traced his taunt muscles under the fabric. His exposed chest seemed to catch the sprawling daylight as the sun chased his neckline and washed over his tan skin with every regard to the glow of his complexion.

Daringly, your eyes fell lower until you cautiously eyed his brown belt. You wondered just how quickly your fingers could trail over each and every loop and how any such movement might elicit a delicious sound from Sam’s lips. You even ventured to imagine one of his hands working the belt off in one, swift motion -

Your eyes snapped back to his. He arched one eyebrow, subtly, as a knowing smirk crossed his seemingly neutral expression. You wavered, feeling absolutely powerless under his scrutiny. Biting your lip, you pointedly angled away from him and desperately made every attempt to heed Will’s words.

Oh just how timely that was.

“I don’t know about that. I’m sure Steffi will take an interest eventually. What about you, (y/n)?” Will’s easy smile made you relax despite how quickly your startled heart raced. You struggled to remember the last thing you heard as Will shrugged. “I know I can be a bit long-winded, but I hope you’re enjoying the races.”

“Yes, you fit right in with us now.” Marisol gave you a genuine smile of her own. “Despite what some people may think, aren’t you glad you decided to join us today?”

You maintained a steady smile as you pushed pesky thoughts of Lana out of your head. “I am. Where else will I hear the harrowing history of yachting or place a wager on anything other than Estate Sail?”

“Hey,” Will warned good-naturedly, laughing despite himself.

Marisol noticed Jovi running after a makeshift sail the twins had tied to a string and shook her head with a warm smile. She and Will turned back to discussing their children and Sterling Academy as you chanced another glimpse of the crowd. Sam still stood firmly in his spot. The men surrounding him were pointing at the yachts in the distance and making idle conversation as Sam’s attention remained on you and only you.

He offered his counterparts around him a brief nod and a clink of his glass, but it was passive. Half-hearted. His eyes bore into you with enough passion to ignite the already kindling fire within your being. You were desperate. Completely at his mercy.

And utterly annoyed by how quickly you’d succumbed to his will. You wanted to prove your ability to do the same - toying with the inevitable long enough to make him flush with desire and writhe under all that you could offer.

You could do it from here; same as him.

Suddenly, shamelessly, your previously obstructed air bent to your change in attitude as you shifted to address his gaze. You arched an eyebrow as you matched his seemingly indifferent composure. You could tell he found your sudden roused behavior amusing, but his jaw quickly feathered as your eyes now held a challenge of your own: Two can play at this game, and I usually win.

Your sudden burst in confidence swelled your chest with enough boldness to dart out your tongue, wetting your bottom lip before pulling it between your teeth.

Some part of you wanted to make the conscious effort to tune into Will and Marisol’s conversation, but their distant chattering proved what you already knew. They weren’t paying either of you any attention.

Sam’s stare grew more intense; his eyes squinting ever so slightly as he watched your every move. With a coy smirk, you moved to pick up your wine glass at a leisurely pace that you were sure would seem like a lifetime to him. Even as the tip of the glass connected with your lips, you were sure to exaggerate every motion. One quick sip left a few drops of wine chasing the curve of your mouth. Using your finger, you wiped away the remnants and brought them to your lips. Your tongue flicked against your fingertip, closing your lips around it entirely, lapping up what was left of the wine.

All the while maintaining eye contact.

Finally, with a barely concealed chuckle, Sam dropped his gaze and shook his head. Every rapid rise of his chest and tense of his shoulders proved he was thoroughly distracted. Satisfied, you turned back to Will and Marisol. Both were watching the next race with an almost unexpected eagerness.

“I told you Estate Sail would win again,” Will stated happily.

Marisol only smiled. “The race isn’t over yet.”

Feeling superior still, you wanted nothing more than to continue your game with Sam, but, when you glanced back at his previous spot, he was nowhere to be seen. You couldn’t help but to frown until Will’s eyes caught on someone behind you and called out:

“Ah, Sam. Care to join us?”

“Actually, yes.” You tried to quiet your usual disposition, avoiding any instinct to turn and gratefully accept his presence with unadulterated mirth. It wasn’t a hard thing to do. In fact, you had to shake yourself from your frozen, shocked posture long enough to glance over your shoulder. Sam stood close enough behind your seat that you could nearly feel the heat emanating from his being, rivaling even the sun’s warmth. “Do you mind -?”

You shook your head, not fully trusting your own voice but not fully committed to throwing away the careful and meticulous planning for your public appearance together either. You waved, feigning carelessness, toward the empty seat across from you. “No, not at all.”

Before he sat, Sam made it a point to glance at Marisol and Will before settling on you. “Does anyone need a refill on drinks? Perhaps another round before the next race?”

The two of you shared a soft, lingering look - one filled with knowing desire and bridled actions. You weren’t sure how you were able to retrain your urge to surge forward and grab him by his shirt collar or loop your fingers through his belt loop, or, even, how you had the strength to manage the rest of the Regatta with a practiced smile. But, then, a minute smile spread across Sam’s features.

Another coy smirk traced your lips as you shook your head. “I’m fine, thank you. Everything I need is right here.”

[we-be-writing-bts-stuff]

Tainted Pt. 1

Pairing: TBD (fem!reader)

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 2845

Plot: Being a vampire is hard and confusing

Warnings: lot of talks/mentions of vampiric feeding, lack of eating/nourishment (she doesn’t like to feed), mc lowkey/highkey has something similar to an eating disorder, blood, injuries, mc is not happy with her life and expresses it, talk and mentions of death, mc’s death is described, guns, self-loathing, self-hatred, mc has a lot of internal issues due to being a vampire and all that comes with it, this is kinda dark and will delve into dark things, mc's death scene/how she becomes a vampire,

A/N: This is fully a self indulgent fic for me. I want you to look through the warnings carefully before reading. This is not going to be a light read. It will be heavy and dark and the mc will have a lot of self-loathing and hatred for herself. She is in a constant fight with herself about her vampirism and what that means. If you do tread forward with this story, I hope you enjoy. Thank you for giving it a chance. All of the members will show up at some point in the series ~Bagel

The chill from the winter air nips at your exposed skin. Snow was beginning to fall and you were stuck once again trying to find a place to stay for the night. It was definitely an option to stay outside, you didn’t feel like doing that tonight. You could feel the exhaustion settle in from the lack of feedings and sleep that you’ve been putting yourself through. It was your sign to find someone and eat even if that was the last thing you wanted. You hated devolving into the monster that you knew you were. The longer you went between feedings, the more human you could feel and sometimes you could convince yourself that you weren’t a vampire. That everything that happened that fateful night was a dream. That everything in your life after you met Yoongi was nothing more than a hallucination.

With a sigh, you take out your cell phone from your coat pocket. You couldn’t stay out in the cold for the night. Clicking through the various screens until you got to the contacts page. You didn’t have many numbers in your phone so it was easy to find who you were looking for. Your finger hovers over the name and you try to convince yourself to call. With a deep breath, you press down and bring the phone to your ear.

“Jin. Can I stay with you tonight?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It doesn’t take you long to arrive at his shared apartment. It's a timid knock from you that alerts Jin to your presence. It was late and the snow had only gotten worse as you walked to the building. The snowflakes stuck to you and refused to melt until you were inside. The tall male smiles warmly as he opens the door and sees you on the other side. He brings you into a hug before you can register what is happening. A soft smile forming on your face at the seldom felt affection. Your arms wrapping loosely around his waist before he pulls away and gestures for you to enter the home. You’re immediately hit with three different masculine scents. Which made sense since three brothers lived in this space. But if you focused further you could pick up on at least two more feminine scents that still lingered. Although those ones were old and it had been a few days since they were last here.

Jin takes your coat from you to hang it up as you take off your shoes. Sighing in content at finally being able to relax. Your backpack filled with your few possessions was put near the couch which would serve as your bed for tonight.

“So, how are you? Have you been taking care of yourself?” He asks carefully. You knew him well enough to understand what the underlying concern of his was. You knew he meant well, but you hated that he was dragged into this to begin with. Let alone worrying about your feeding schedule.

“Jin, I don’t want to talk about myself. Calling you to stay here for the night was hard enough. I don’t need you to worry about my feedings as well.” You tell him. Trying to shut down the conversation before it can really begin.

“Well, I want to talk about it.” He says. Arms crossing over his chest and an eyebrow raising. “It’s been at least a month since I’ve last seen you and I know you fed not too long before then. I truly hope you’ve gotten something since.”

“I said I’m not going to talk about it. I just need to sleep. That’s it.” You push once more to end the talk before he pushes it further. Your patience wore thin and your voice was tense.

“Y/N,” his voice softens along with his expression. Reaching out to rest a hand on your shoulder. “I can tell that you’ve been starving yourself. Your face is gaunt and you’ve been looking at me like I’m a five star meal. You can’t blame me for being worried about a friend.”

“Get off my back! I’m fine. I’ve been telling you that I’m fine since I’ve gotten here. I will be fine for another week before things get dire.” You snap at him. Pushing his hand away from you. Your temper had always been short and due to your hunger it was even shorter. Jin’s constant pushing and refusal to stop causes you to break.

“You know you can use me. I don’t mind you taking my blood every few weeks so you aren’t starving yourself. Hell, you could live here if you wanted to. I know you won’t be a burden or a nuisance.” He offers. You’re shaking your head before he can even finish speaking.

“I’m not going to drink your blood again Jin. You’re a friend and shouldn’t even know about me being a vampire.”

“You have in the past and clearly haven’t hurt me. And we both know you wouldn’t kill me. Why not do it again?” He asks. “I don’t like seeing you hurting like this.”

“Enough! I will walk out this door if you don’t drop this right now Jin. I am fine for another week. Please just drop it.” You warn. The threat being enough for him to stop pressing you for now. Raising his hands in defeat.

“Okay. I’ll leave you be.” He begins to walk away. Gesturing to the pillows and blankets that he had grabbed when you first called him. “The offer is still on the table and you know where to find me if you change your mind. Good night Y/N.” He says softly. Turning to walk down the hallway to his room. You watch as he leaves your line of sight. Closing the door most of the way, but leaving it open just in case.

You sigh and grab one of the pillows. Placing it at one end as you gently lay yourself on the piece of furniture after turning off the lights. Closing your eyes as you place your head on the pillow. You could hear the soft snore of one person and the soft hum of a video coming from another room. You could also hear Jin walking around his room and doing whatever it was that he needed to do before sleeping. With a deep sigh you push away any thoughts or feelings that were lingering around. Finally getting comfortable enough to drift into sleep. Your mind turns off and you begin to dream.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night starts like any other. You were walking back to the home you shared with your family. It was late and you were tired from the long day you had at work. The weather was beginning to cool down and you had to pull the jacket you had closer to your body to try to retain more of your body heat. Heels clicking against the stone of the side paths as you walked in near silence. Just the far off noises of the city filling the air as you made your way home as fast as possible.

It started out with muffled yelling off in the distance that you almost didn’t notice. You knew that you shouldn’t have followed it or tried to figure out what was happening, but your feet were moving before you could stop yourself. The path brought you farther and farther from the safety of the city lights. The voices became clearer as you moved closer. You were soon looking into the alley with several men. One was on his knees and bloody with a gun pressed to his head, as a handful of other men circled him. You couldn’t understand what they were saying nor did you care much by this point. The sight was too shocking to focus on what was being said between them. Your hand flies up to cover your mouth in an effort to hide any noises.

That didn’t help the scream that left you when the gun went off. The back of the mystery man’s head splattered against the brick wall as the gunshot reverberates around you. You’re frozen in place until a sharp pain hits your chest. A gasp falling from your lips as you fell to the ground. Your body collapsed painfully as you connected to the concrete. Another cry leaving you at the added trauma.

“What the hell?”

“What?! She saw us kill this fucking man! What was I supposed to do?” You hear the bickering between the men as you laid there. Beginning to feel warmth spread through your body despite the snow and wind. The world around you quickly becomes fuzzy and quieting down. The voices sounded far off in the distance. Flashes of your family filled your mind.

“Hey! What’s happening?” This new voice boomed in the quiet but chaotic atmosphere. Causing the men that shot you to curse and scramble to run away before they were caught. Leaving behind you and their other victim for whoever was continuing to come closer.

You heard the person curse when they found you and felt when they shook you lightly to get you to respond to their question. Trying to speak only made you mutter out something slurred and unintelligible. Your eyes barely open to see a man kneeling next to you. The brim from his hat shielding his features as he tried to assess the damage. His mouth turned into a tight and pained line before he reached forward to feel your weakening pulse. A sharp intake of air filled your lungs as you registered his freezing hands pressed against your skin.

Your gaze became unfocused as you fought against losing consciousness. The male biting into his own wrist and pressing it to your mouth. Begging you to drink from him before you began to fade fully into dark. The last thing you remember is the piercing feeling from his teeth as he bites into your neck as you scream into the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wake with a start. The pain in your neck is still lingering by the time you sit up. Gasping out for breath and hand moving up to your wound. Eyes flying around the room to try to figure out where you were. Light was filtering through the room and there were sounds of someone in the kitchen. You calm down when you remember the previous night of calling Jin and making your way to his place. There was a blanket sitting bunched around your waist due to you sitting up so suddenly. A soft frown on your face as you try to figure out where you had gotten this blanket. The noises from the kitchen stop and you hear soft footsteps move towards the living room. The middle brother soon fills your vision. He was still in his pajamas, hair mused, and glasses perched on his nose as he held a mug of coffee. Pausing and smiling when he noticed you were up.

“Good morning Y/N.” He says. “I thought you might have been cold so I gave you the blanket.” You nod and look down at the fabric. Nodding and looking back up at him.

“Uh, thanks. You didn’t have to Joon.” You tell him. A soft and forced smile gracing your face. “I’m sorry to take over your space. I needed a place to stay and I knew that Jin would be willing to help.” You begin to explain. The male shakes his head before he sits in front of the impromptu desk he made out of the coffee table. His laptop opened up to something you weren’t sure of and several papers scattered around the surface.

“You don’t have to apologize. You’re a great person and I’m happy that we can help you. You’ve always been willing to help us when we need it.” He tells you. A sharp pang of guilt shot through your unbeating heart at that. It only felt like you were taking from them and never giving as much as they did. Hiding so much about yourself from all of them over the time that you knew them. “Do you want some food or some coffee or anything? I can grab you some.”

“No. Thank you for the offer but I’m okay. I’m not hungry when I first wake up, but I would love to steal the shower for a bit.” You tell him. Already standing up to grab your bag and walking to the bathroom once he gave you the okay. Sighing and relaxing when the door closes behind you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bathing and primping that you were putting yourself through wasn’t really necessary, but it always made you feel better. Helping you to clear your mind and mentally prepare for the upcoming days. Especially when you had flashbacks to the night you were turned, times like these were vital to recover from the hard memory.

You were staring into the foggy mirror at your reflection. You look sickly and tired. Your eyes were sunken in and the dark circles were prominent under them. Your hair hangs limply against your face and water droplets drip against the sink. You had been avoiding looking at yourself for the last week. You knew you looked bad, but not this bad. Prolonging your feeding for this long wreaked havoc on your body and this is how it manifested. Making you face the truth and start to figure out how you would fix this problem. A knock jostles you out of your thoughts and forces you back to the present.

“Jin! I need to shower! Get your ass out of there!” The deep voice from the other side calls out to you.

“It’s not Jin!” You call back. You could almost feel the embarrassment from the youngest male through the thick wood as he goes deathly silent. The soft grumbling coming from him even ceases after he hears you. With a hum, you open the door with a soft smile. “Hello Taehyung. Did you sleep well?” A soft lilt to your voice as you look up to the man.

He clears his throat and nods. Straightening his back before answering you. “Yeah. I slept fine. Did you? I didn’t know that you were here.” He admits.

“Yeah. It was fine. The bathroom is all yours.” You tell him. Brushing past him to make your way to the others. “Enjoy your shower.” You call back before the door shuts a bit too forcefully. A soft giggle leaving you as he mumbles to himself once again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Well, I’m going to head out boys! It’s been great and thank you for letting me stay the night but I need to get going.” You announce to the older brothers. Namjoon frowns and looks up from the book in his hands as Jin opens his mouth to begin to argue with you.

“Nope. You are staying here. You look like shit and I will not let you go. Not with all the snow outside.” Jin says firmly. Grabbing your bag before you can.

“You know better than anyone that I’m fine and that I’ll be fine Jin. A little snow is nothing.” You brush off the concern with a wave of your hand. Reaching out to try to grab your bag back from him.

“I know you’re beyond capable, but I have to agree with Jin. You really should stay. At least for a day or two. The weather is supposed to pick up after that and then we won’t feel as bad.” Namjoon tries to reason. Standing up after placing his book to the side and walking towards you.

“See! Two to one. It’s settled, you’re staying here.” Jin says. A huge grin on his face as he reaches out and spins you around to guide you back to the couch. “And while you’re here, maybe you can help Namjoon with his research. It’s about folklore with an emphasis on vampires.”

The mere mention causes you to tense up and your eyes widen. Your head snapping back to look at the man pushing you currently. The grin was still there and his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You really don’t have to but it would be nice to have another set of eyes to look over it at least. Jin keeps saying that you are knowledgeable about all of this and as much as these two try, it's not the same as having someone that knows something about the material checking the paper.” Namjoon explains. You could hear him trying to justify the older’s statement and you felt any walls that you may have still had crumble around you. The academic was too cute as he became flustered and began to explain the premise of the thesis.

“Joon. It’s okay. I’ll help how I can. Although I don’t know how much I really can. I’m not nearly as learned as you are.” You tell him as you sit back down and lean over to look at the words he had written already. Settling in for the rest of the day.

[paragonrobits]

a friend asked me to give a shot at doing an entry in this tier list they linked me to, of the video games inducted into the World Video Game Hall of Fame since 2015, and I opted to give it a shot!

My rankings are generally biased towards games I personally enjoy playing, though I will give some commentary on their historic relevance:

S-Rank

Super Mario Bros: The game that repopularized video games in the US, that arguably began the entire platforming video game genre and all its imitators and spin-offs, that spawned a new generation of video games after the Atari Crash in the US, and still a DAMN FUN game in its own right! I simply had to put this at the top ranking. After the disillusionment caused by Atari’s failures, this game brought home consoles back in a big way to the US. 

World of Warcraft: Now, I’m not much for MMORPGs. Nevertheless, I’ve followed the lore and general information in the Warcraft setting for years now, and a couple years back, my brother asked me to play it with him. I had a ton of fun, honestly! Playing a goblin mage, I believe. WoW is notable for being THE MMORPG, and still going strong. Admittedly, nowadays many games do what it does better, and the time when it was dominant as THE single game to play is past, but it was still an enjoyable experience and I really have to like how sincere the game is about its aesthetics and campy vibe. Given that the entire setting is reputedly a reskin of a Warhammer Fantasy Battle video game that went south, it’s cheery and colorful, morally gray tone is... an interesting complication in its history. (Also, HORDE. I STAN THE HORDE VERY HARD.)

The Sims: A bit of history; I did not play this game as enthusiastically as a kid as my sister and mom did. We ALL spammed the hell out of the Rosebud cheat, though; not until recent times did I actually wind up playing the game properly, when the most recent iteration of the series was free for a while. My mom didn’t care to play the game, she just liked building houses. In any case, while my attention drifted from the game now and then, I always am fascinated by the actual gameplay of caring for your simulated humans, and the way you don’t actually control them directly. This sort of hands off experience is actually a bit similar to the ‘dungeon simulator’ genre, and while the game is notorious for enabling cruelty (something I never saw the appeal of!), it’s a surprisingly wholesome experience, and it can’t be understated how unique this gameplay was at the time.

Legend of Zelda: It’s actually rather interesting how different OG Zelda is from modern games. Not just the top down perspective (which DOES pop up, now and then); the game is non-linear and allows you to go to any dungeon at any point, completing the game at your leisure, and the story is extremely barebones compared to what we may be used to. It’s quite a far cry from the linear gameplay of gradually collecting tools and working through plots that the games are known for. Breath of the Wild is, in fact, a return to form rather than an upheaval of the formula. I’ll also admit that I have a lot of affection for the gameplay of this one, as well as Link To The Past.

Donkey Kong: When you’re talking old school, as far as what you might call the modern generation of games goes (which is to say, the games that resurged after the Atari Crash), it’s hard to go wrong with Donkey Kong. It’s certainly notable for being a weird stage in Mario’s character and something that is generally ignored; it’s just strange thinking that at one point he was supposed to be abusive towards a pet ape that went in an innocent, well-meaning rampage! Personally this one kind of breaks a mold for my S-class rankings because while I like this one fine, I don’t like it THAT much; i mostly played it in the DK 64 game, and found it very difficult and that’s stuck with me. Still, I place it here for its momentous position in placing Nintendo on the map, with the influence and revolutionary technologies and gaming mechanics they would introduce, to this very day.

Pokemon Red/Blue: Hoo boy. HOO BOY it is honestly something of an oversight that I didn't immediately shove this beauty straight to the front of the S-line because good god I love this game. It's been years and years, long since I was but a whee Johnny playing a strange new game for the first time just because there was a cool turtle creature on the cover (because I was super into turtles back then), and I still love this game. Even with the improvements made to the formula since then (getting rid of HMs, the fixes and new types introduced since) there's still something lovable about this game, even as something as basic as the official artwork that just tugs my heartstrings. This game is highly notable for being an RPG that popularized the monster collecting/befriending gameplay (so far as I know), and as an autistic person, i really appreciate knowing the whole thing grew out of an autistic man's bug collection hobby from when he was a child. Pokemon is an absolute juggernaut of a media influence, and THIS is where it all began. It's first stage evolution, you might say. And not like a Magikarp or anything. This one's more like one of the starters... appropriately enough. Final Fantasy 7: This is probably a bit of a controversial take, but FF7 was not actually one of my favorite Final Fantasy entries back in the day. I never played much more of it than the beginning missions, as my cousin owned the machine in question, and I moved out before i could play it much. Final Fantasy 3 (in the US; it's more generally referred to as 6 now) was my favorite for a long, long time, and that game pioneered many of the traits that would be associated with 7: the epic story, the complex ensemble cast, though 7 really expanded on that basic idea, and previous games were hardly shabby in that regard. 9 is my favorite of the pre-10 era, with its extreme shake ups to the mechanics of the game. No; what makes 7 stand out is that it was a shift towards making Final Fantasy a constantly shifting, unique franchise where every entry was its own thing; it introduced 3D graphics with a fun and cartoony style mixed with a story that wouldn't be out of place in a cyberpunk story, and heralds Squaresoft (as it was called at the time) splitting off from Nintendo, with its censorship policies, and doing its own thing with Sony, with a great deal more freedom to write as they pleased. The party design also stands out, which each character having their own unique function in the party while the Materia concept allows a degree of modular skills to be installed, customizing them in ways that, in my opinion, the best entries in the franchise (on a gameplay level) would revisit. Colossal Cave Adventure: I'll be honest; I never played this game, and I don't believe it's particularly familiar to me at all. However, I chose it for this vaunted spot in S-rank because games of this nature, of text-based prompt and responses, are some of the most interesting things imaginable! Games like AI Dungeon are similar in some respects, and its impressive to think just how dang old this game is, and yet it managed to pull off basically being it's own DM. It has an interesting history; created by a man who worked on the precursor to the Internet, the game was made to connect with his daughter and was inspired by recent entries into Dungeons And Dragons, and later expanded upon by other programmers. It's notable that while Zork is the sort of game that would probably involve more immediate recognition (I actually mistook it for Zork at first, from the screenshot), this game was the first of its kind, and that always deserve some recognition. Minecraft: I absolutely LOVE Minecraft, and it's rightfully one of the most popular games, if not THE most popular game, of the last couple of decades, and it's interesting to think just how unconventional it is; the game is, effectively, a LEGO simulator, and as someone who honestly always wanted tons of LEGO sets as a kid but could never afford them consistently, there's something genuinely very appealing about Minecraft's basic set up. It's open approach and lack of a goal, just gameplay mechanics that encourage you to build and do as you please, makes for a very relaxing and unusual mentality not often seen in games until this point; it doesn't even have a storyline, it simply gives you a world to play around in. Of note, Minecraft's entry seems to have relevance towards video games becoming a cultural touchstone; Minecraft's visual aesthetic leans towards both blocky LEGOs and retro graphics, and certainly proves that games don't need to strive for hyper realistic graphics to be appealing. ----- A RANK Doom: I genuinely like Doom, a lot! I still have memories of replaying this game frequently, long before Doom 2016 and Eternal were glimmers; it's just genuinely very fun to play. That said, I feel that there's other games that are a bit more historically notable and while i like this game, not quite as much as other entries. But it cant be understated that this was THE first person shooter, and more to the point, was fundamental towards game design as we know it. Of note, it pioneered the idea of a game engine, which has had tremendous impact down the road in terms of making a flexible baseline system that latergames were programmed around. Additionally, the first three episodes being free, with the additional ones being purchased as part of the full game, this was, I think, the first demonstration of a demo. Back then, we called this shareware; a game which was free but had full features locked off, but otherwise you could play it however much you wanted. There's a REASON Doom winds up on more systems than Skyrim! Ultimately, while it's not one of my favorite games, it's impact on the business of gaming and the functions of game design cannot be overstated. Pac-Man: This game, is THE game that made video games a phenomenon and its worth thinking about that and how video games as a modern institituion can be drawn, however broadly, from Pac-Man's commercial success. I should note that while I've played this game extensively, it's not something I'm particularly good at; there's a LOT going on here and its a bit much for me to handle. That's probably a strength; there's a reason people had to fake their accomplishments and falsified high scores. It's worth noting that Pac-Man is a unique thing in that it has been rereleased many times over, and every generation has found it enjoyable and fun, unlike other games that set trends only to be lost out in the end. (Goldeneye, for instance!) The Oregon Trail: Like many other people I assume, I first played this game as something available on school computers. Purportedly made as an educational game to teach students about history, this game may be notable for, among other things, being an entry point towards the idea of resource management in video games (as well as being hellishly difficult, by the standards then, but that DOES illustrate a point, does it not?). It's also the oldest, most continuously available game ever made, even now being ported to smartphones, or so I hear! It seems to be a very early example of edutainment games, and a genuinely great one at that. It probably helps that a selling point is that it doesn't really mince around with its subject matter; anyone who's played this game knows that total party kill is the default assumption, as it was in life. Street Fighter and Mortal Kombat: I place these two together as I feel that they form a duo of sorts, and defined fighting games of my childhood and modern gaming experience; name a fighting game, from Injustice to something as deliberately different as Smash Bros, and it has SOME relation to these games, even if its in terms of doing something completely different. These games set a mold for fighting games! Among other things, both games feature iconic characters as a selling point, and to this day fighting games make their mark based on how signature their characters are. Mortal Kombat is of course an incredibly violent game (though very tame, by modern standards), and its fatalities and depicitons of violence sparked thought and arguments on what video games ought to be allowed to depict, for better or for worse. It's not implausible to suggest that the overly strict restrictions on what video games could depict go back to Mortal Kombat's fatalities, specifically (since there's far worse games predating it, though too graphically primitive to be obvious). Street Fighter, conversely, strikes me as having more characterization and depth, especially as far as fighting systems go; I find it hard to be interested in many fighting games now, if they don't offer as much depth as the likes of Street Fighter 2. Street Fighter stands out for innovating multiplayer play, initially in the arcade, and its not implausible to say that the likes of Smash Bros is a descendant of sorts of the specific mentality Street Fighter brought to the table. Consider also that it is STILL a mainstay in the remaining arcades and cabinets in service today! Tomb Raider: This is a game i legit liked back in the day, and there's some part of me that's sad that the platforming, puzzle solving and focus on exploration has not really made it back into the modern Tomb Raider series, last I checked. There's probably something interesting in that Lara Croft represents a bit of an intermediate period between platforming mascots and modern Edgy Protagonists; you know the ones. Balding white dudes with vague dad vibes, but this is not a slight on Lara; she definitely has a ton of personality, even just at a cover glance. This game had a strong focus on exploration, and that's honestly something I really like. Super Mario Kart: I'm going to be controversial here; complaints about the Blue Shell are kinda overrated. It's not that different from, say, a red shell hitting you from behind when you're close to the finish line. But, jokes and old 90s memes aside, this game has some interesting status in that it started the idea of making spin-off games in dramatically different contexts; Crash Team Racing and Sonic Drift, for example, are listened as similar games. On a franchise level, this began the trend of Mario becoming a truly flexible character who could do pretty much whatever was required of him, not just the original platforming games, and its possible his imitators never quite learned the same lesson. Though one wonders what Miyamoto might have thought if he'd known how many thinkpieces he would spawn with 'why does mario go-karting with Bowser when they're enemies?'. For my part, I favor the idea that the other games are in-universe fictions they're actors on and this is their actual dynamic, or that Mario is a relaxed dude who doesn't mind playing kart games with his foe. (I mean, he's not Ridley. Bowser's easy enough to get along with.) Animal Crossing: Again, I have to emphasize that I've never actually played this game, at least on a consistent basis (and by that, I mean I MIGHT have played it on the Gamecube, once, in the early 2000s), and have to speak from what I've seen of what it sparked. And I really do like the way it really codified the sub-genre of relaxed, open-ended games where the player is free to do as they like, without much stress or fear, which is something I think more games could stand to do. On my personal list of features that my ideal video game would have, Animal Crossing would definitely offer a few ideas. I am reminded of farming simulators, such as Harvest Moon or Stardew Valley; while they are different beasts entirely, there's a familiar sense of non-combat relaxation that's pleasant to see. Spacewar!: This machine is GODDAMN old, and like an old fogey predating modern humans, it deserves our respect. It's so old, it predates Pong. Supposedly created as part of predictative Cold War models, with an emphasis on emulating sci fi dogfights, producing a game that soon proved popular, for over a decade remainign the most popular game on computer systems, and a clumsy foray into arcade gaming (that didn't pan out, unfortunately) led to the creation of Pong by its creator, which is another story all its own! And Pong is directly responsible for the idea of the video game itself; this game launched the entire video game industry as we understand it! No small feat, indeed. ----

B RANKED Sonic The Hedgehog: I must state that I DO like this game, though not as much as later entires like Sonic 3 and Knuckles, or the Sonic Adventure series; the fast paced action seems a bit hobbled by the traps and need to be careful of surroundings, which would seem to run counter towards the whole idea of GOTTA GO FAST, y'know? But the game presents an interesting viewpoint on the nature of mascot gaming; created specifically, so it is said, as a rival to Mario, Sonic was designed as a mascot with attitude, and inspired a host of imitators; he's probably the only one to escape the 90s more or less intact, and this may have something to say about his flexibility, star power, and also the fact that he's a pretty mild character, all things considered. This game certainly has its place in gaming history, giving an important place in the console wars of yesteryear. Believe me, I was a kid in the 90s, Sonic was a HUGE deal. Space Invaders: This game is noted to have catapulted games into prominence by making them household, something outside of arcades, and it shows! An interesting detail of note is that supposedly, the Space Invaders were meant to all move at high speed, but this was either too hard to play against, or too costly on the processor; it was found that by making them speed up as they were defeated, it created an interesting set of challenge. You have to appreciate game history like that. In general, its success prompted Japanese companies to join the market, which would eventually produce what I imagine was a thriving, competitive market that would eventually get us Nintendo and it's own gamechangers down the road. Grant Theft Auto 3: I'm going to be honest with you. I don't much care for this sort of game. The Saints Row series, with its fundamental wackiness, is the kind of game I really DO like if I'm going for something like this, and GTA sort of leaning towards the 'cruel for fun and profit' gameplay is really unappealing for me. However, I'd be remiss if I didn't address this game, and what seems to come up is two things: the game's sheer freedom in its open world (which certainly pushed the bar for games of that nature, and has made it a byword for gamers screwing around in a game just to see what ridiculous things they could or couldn't do) and the infamous reputation from the mature aspects of the game. Personally, I'm not much for this game's take on maturity (if I wanted to discuss a game of that nature, I'd suggest, say, Spec Ops: The Line) but I really do appreciate what this game and its series did for the open world genre, and the sheer possibilities presented for letting you do what you wanted. King's Quest: I've never played this game, but I am a HUGE fan of the point and click genre (also known generally as the adventure game genre) that it spawned; without this game, there's no Monkey Island, no Sam and Max, no The Dig or Full Throttle, or Gabriel Knight. This game was similar to previous text-based games, with a text parser to input commands, but with the distinction of a graphical interface to move their character around, which would be the seed of later games such as the SCUMM engine of Monkey Island and other Lucasarts games (which, to me, ARE Adventure Gaming). The puzzles, comedic sensibilities, and interface innovations originated with this game, and codified those later adventure games i love so much. Starcraft: This is another one those list of 'games I should have already played by now'. I'm not much of an RTS person, barring forays with games such as Impossible Creatures, Warhammer 40k: Dawn of War, and more strange entries such as Brutal Legend, and I contend that the combat aspects of 4X games like Civilization DO count on some level; the specifics of troop movement and unit strengths/weaknesses are a bit beyond me, when you get to more complex stuff. Starcraft, reading between the lines, really introduced the idea of multiplayer culture especially for RTS, pioneered the Battle(dot)net system (which I mostly recall from Diablo, if I'm being honest!) as well as the idea of relative strengths and powers for individual factions so that they became characters in their own right. It's still a very popular online game, and that says SOMETHING. Also, I tend to use zerg rushes, so I would probably play Zerg. Probably. (There is much speculation on whether or not, like Warcraft being a failed Warhammer Fantasy game, if the same holds true for Starcraft and Warhammer 40k. I lean on the side of 'probably not'; the differences are too notable. The Zerg and Tyranids have some similarties, but that's probably because they're based on the same broad hive mind evil insect aggressor trope, and they have enough differences from there to be very distinct from one another. It's not like how OG Warcraft's orcs were very obviously warhammer orcs with less football hooliganism.) Bejeweled: This is a firm case of a game that I don't play, but I really have to respect its influence on gaming as a whole. Apparently it started as a match three-type game with a simplistic formula that proved wildly popular (perhaps making a point that simpler can be more effective, in game mechanics), with a truly explosive record of downloads; over 500 million, it seems. Thus its fair to say that this game set the precedent for casual games, which have become THE market. Regardless of your feelings on that genre, this one was a real game changer. (Pun intended, absolutely.) ----

C RANK Pong: "By most measures of popular impact, Pong launched the video game industry." This line alone saws it all, I think. It wasn't the first video game, but it was one of the more early ones, and its the one that really made video games and consoles successful, gaining widespread attention from the mainstream audience, as well as getting Atari recognition (for better or for worse, but perhaps that was just a development of being on top, so to speak; maye the console wars at least kept the big three honest). It also started the arcade revolution of games, and this humble game is essentially responsible for the entire state of video games as a concept, as we know it today. Halo: No disrespect to Halo, but it's just a game series I've never quite been able to get into. Those games are very hit and miss for me; games like Call of Duty, Battlefield, Gears of War and everything like that are just... hard for me to get into. It takes something specific like Borderlands or the Besthesda Fallout series, or something else, for me to get hooked, and Halo just doesn't do it for me! Nevertheless, I would be QUITE remiss if I simply dismissed it, and there's reasons for it to be inducted into the hall of fame barely three years into the hall of fame making inductees. Firstly, it was Microsoft's big entry into the console wars, and it must be said this was a MASSIVE upset and a completely unprecedented shift in the assumptions of the console wars back then; NO ONE expected microsoft to actually do this, let alone redefine gaming out of Sony and Nintendo's favor like that. At the time, PCs dominated FPS games, and Halo showed that consoles could do it just fine. It must also be said that it has a very intricate and complex system of lore, backstory and material that was quite distinctive for a new setting back in the day, and while I've seen people object to it's gameplay, I suspect that its with the benefit of hindsight; Halo offered an extremely unusual degree of freedom in achieving the goals set out for you. (Cortana also didn't deserve getting her name slapped onto that search assistant that eats up all your RAM.) Where In The World Is Carmen San Diego: Surprisignly enough, based on the article, this game was NOT an adaptation, but the source material of this character. This is where the fancy, mystery lady in the red coat started! Evidently this game was originally an edutainment game with a cops and robbers theme, and inspired by Colossal Cave Adventure from higher up on the list, and one must appreciate the effort that went into it. This one is ranked low, mostly because it didn't seem TOO notable to me. Honestly I'm surprised this is where Carmen Sandiego started. (And that she doesn't get enough credit as an iconic theatrical villain who won't go a step too far, but that's another rant.) -

D LIST

Here we are. The D LIST. The bottom of the sorting pile; the lowest of them all, the... well, the ones that I honestly don't necessarily dislike, but couldn't place higher for reasons of notability, personal interest, or perceived impact on the history of gaming. John Madden Football: Sports games, as a whole, really do NOT do it for me. I don't like real like sports at ALL (with, as a kid, a brief interest in boxing and that was just because they had gloves like Knuckles from Sonic the Hedgehog) so its hard for me to say that I find the history of this one all that compelling. Even so, there's some interesting elements in how this game was a sequel to a previous failed attempt, with a bold new attempt at a more arcade-style action game with a more dramatic take on the players, who would in turn be rated in different skill sets. The Madden series is STILL going so... it worked out pretty well, I'd say. (FUCKIN EA WAS BEHIND THIS ONE??? wow, EA is older than I thought.) Microsoft Flight Simulator: It's honestly a bit painful sorting this one so low, since I had many happy times as a wee Johnny playing this game back in the old days. I mean the OLD, old days. This was like, the days when Usenet was the preferred way for people to talk online. (Not me, though. I didn't talk to people, then. I was even less social than I am now, which is saying something!) All the same, I suppose that it was important to not crowd too many entries in a specific folder, and statistically, something had to keep getting knocked down, and in the end, I couldn't honestly say I still enjoyed this one enough to place it higher. Still, credit must be given where it is due; this game stands out for being an early foray into simulator gaming, showing a realistic depiction of actual flight. It has apparently been updated and rereleased many times since, which is impressive! Tetris: I like puzzles. So it might be surprising to hear this seminal game ranked so low; firstly, I like different KINDS of puzzles (like weird ones where you have to fling your sense of logic to the moon and back, or make use of gaming mechanics) and honestly this game is kind of stressful for me. You gotta keep an eye on a lot of different things flying around all at once, and constantly move things around, and that kind of attention and quick thinking does NOT come easily to me. All the same, I really have to admire how it was born from it's creator's pleasure in solving mathematical puzzles about sorting shapes into boxes, in a manner strangely remniscient of Satoshi's bug collecting that became Pokemon. Certainly the game's simplicity has proven a universally appealing thing, and may say something about the value of keeping it simple. Microsoft Solitaire: This game apparently became pay-to-get some time ago in recent computer generations, and let me tell, you, it was genuinely depressing to find that out. I remember younger decades, from the 90s and on, when this game was a regular and free feature in Windows computers fir MANY years. You got a computer, this game was on here. I was a kid, and i remember watching my mom play this game and makign the cards go WHOOP WHOPP all over the place and marveling, because I couldn't ever do the same thing. (A related note: I am terrible at this game. Go figure!) Of note, this game was massively widespread, and just EVERYWHERE, and I think everyone who ever played a computer back in those days instantly remembers it in some way. It was just... ubiquitous. Centipede: Oh, ol' Centipede. I don't mean to be mean to you. But between the likes of Pokemon and Super Mario Bros, even the arcade Donkey Kong, someone had to keep dropping down the leaderboard that is this tierlist, and unfortunately, there were other games that felt higher up than you. All the same, you're a very good game, and honestly, I like you more than some other games ranked higher for reasons of relevance to gaming history. Certainly more than anything else in D-listing. The colorful and appealing palette is noteworthy. That trackball controller! Amazing! (More games should use trackballs. They're fun and easy to use.) At the very least, Order of the Stick did a joke with you once, and that's better than anything I can do for you. All the same, you're a cool game.