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absolutepokemontrash · 3 years

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MC is Half Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar

(Underground Tomb edition!)

Hello friends and degenerate sinners, this is basically a mini headcanon set for Luci’s kid!MC about how the incident with Luke and the Grimoire would go down in this AU to tide you all over until Part 3 comes out! Enjoy!

It was a normal night in the good ol’ HOL... Lucifer was doing paperwork at an ungodly hour of the night, Beel was in the kitchen, and Mammon was screaming and running for dear life. Ah... sweet normalcy.

The custard incident remained the same, MC got force-fed custard and Beel threw a truly fantastic hunger tantrum that culminated in the wall connecting to MC’s room collapsing.

Cue lecture from Luci-father.

“I am very disappointed in you three.” Lucifer rubbed his temples as MC, Beel, and Mammon awkwardly stood in his room. Mammon of course, was trying to avoid the death glares MC was giving him. Poor bastard.

“Especially you two, MC and Beel.”

“Whuh?!” Mammon sputtered. “What about me?!”

“I expect this from you. These two on the other hand,” Lucifer raised an eyebrow at MC who was awkwardly trying to suppress a laugh at Mammon’s aghast expression. “Should know not to act like this.”

“We’re *snrk* sorry, father,” MC paused to try and muscle through a giggle. “It won’t happen again.”

“He ate my custard...” Beel pouted.

“So, MC won’t be able to use their room anymore due to the wall... collapsing.” Lucifer gave Beel a pointed glare.

Mammon smirked, and if he were sitting on a couch, we would have leaned back and kicked his feet up. “Well, obviously since I’m a kind and generous soul I’ll open up my room for poor MC to stay in. My babysittin’ rates are quite high though-”

“BABYSITTING?!” MC snarled, giving Mammon a death glare that could probably kill lesser demons.

Lucifer felt a twinge of pride upon seeing his child give someone his signature bone-chilling glare, if he weren’t supposed to be disappointed he would have given MC a pat on the head and let them hang Mammon from the ceiling.

“Uh- heh- MC, I’m your favourite uncle! Me babysittin’ ya should be an honour!” Mammon was sweating bullets and desperately looking to Beel for help.

“Levi is rapidly approaching favourite uncle status.” MC crossed their arms and huffed.

“Levi?! Wait- does that mean I was your favourite-”

Lucifer was almost tempted to stick MC in Mammon’s room just to have MC punish Mammon so he could get some sleep, tragically, his common sense won out. “MC will be staying with Beel. He has an extra bed in his room after all.”

MC looked over at Beel and smiled. “Could be worse, right? I’ll replace the custard.”

Beel’s smile upon hearing the last part could have lit up the entire Devildom. What a sweetie.

MC still chilled in Beel’s room. They finally got to ask more questions about Belphie, and Beel is more inclined to share what’s up because MC is his big bro’s kid after all!

Because of MC’s half demon-ness, they hadn’t met Belphie at that point in the story unlike in canon. They were just curious about their missing uncle. They ALSO already knew what Belphie looks like because Lucifer gave them an in depth tour of everything and he pointed out all the portraits.

MC, being the sadistic sweetheart they are, went out and bought themselves and Beel replacement custard. MC made sure to eat it right in front of Mammon.

But my oh my, who was texting them? *gasp!* Luke!

MC obviously let their little angel buddy into the house (Luke did not know about MC’s parental situation at that point, keep that in mind). Luke was fun to tease a little after all! And it was nice to have another kid around, but MC would never admit it.

Since MC had literally no reason to be afraid of their dear old dad, they went right up to him and asked him if Luke could stay over. No fear.

“Father?” MC leaned on the doorway to the backyard, Lucifer was playing fetch with Cerberus. MC had never seen someone play fetch so robotically.

“Yes, MC?” Cerberus’ middle head dropped a slobber covered squeaky toy into Lucifer’s gloved hand, the other two heads snapped at the middle one.

“Can I have a friend over?” MC asked, trotting over to give Cerberus some pets. On the first day the dog had tried to eat them, but after giving him some much tastier bacon treats, Cerberus was sweet as pie. Murderous and dangerous pie, that is.

“Do I know this friend?”

“Yes, it’s Luke. Can he stay over?”

Lucifer wrinkled his nose and rolled his eyes. “Cerberus is right here, you have access to a dog. Why on earth would you bring the chihuahua over?”

MC snorted and gave Cerberus’ right head some scratches behind the ears. “He’s not a chihuahua all the time, come on, it’s for the good of the exchange program!”

The two had a stare down for a little while, and to his absolute horror, Lucifer felt his resolve cracking. This child of his was too adorable for their own good. “Fine, MC.”

“Yes!” MC fist pumped as Cerberus’ middle and left heads tried to join in on the ear scritches.

“But note,” Lucifer continued. “I expect a full report to give to Lord Diavolo on this whole experience.”

MC frowned and debated sticking their tongue out at their father, they decided against it. “A paper? On a sleepover? Really?”

“Yes. Really.” Lucifer gave MC a flick on the nose. “Like you said, it has to do with the exchange program. Now go make sure the chihuahua doesn’t die and leave you with a mess to clean up.”

The look of complete terror Luke gave MC when they told him that Lucifer said he could stay over was completely worth the paper they were going to have to write.

“What?! You weren’t supposed to tell him I’m here!”

“He said you could stay.”

“Why?! Oh no... did he demand your soul as payment or something?! MC! You shouldn’t have put yourself in that nasty demon’s debt! Don’t worry, I’ll get your soul back somehow.”

MC should have been offended... but they weren’t. I mean, could you stay mad at Luke when he just offered to fight arguably the second most powerful demon in the Devildom to get your soul back?

Now that Luke’s presence in the house was known to everyone, the challenge was no longer keeping Luke hidden, it was making sure Luke didn’t say anything that would get him killed and making sure none of the demon bros made Luke cry.

Mammon was the main culprit of the teasing because Lucifer actually had better things to do. And he had a (totally not a) date with Diavolo so he’d be back late and wouldn’t be home to tease the chihuahua.

Mammon’s status as favourite uncle was hanging by a thread by the end of the first day.

Asmo thought Luke was positively adorable and also very annoying. He offered to paint MC and Luke’s nails. Luke declined, but MC was all for it. (Their cuticles were a MESS by the way, they needed the manicure.)

Luke’s nails were painted gold to match the gold on his outfit! Asmo was quite proud of his work, and was very offended when he was not allowed to try and braid Luke’s hair.

“It looks so soft!”

“You’re not allowed to touch my hair, demon!”

Satan still disliked MC on the basis that they were just a mini-Lucifer and hung out in his room or the library to avoid them and Luke.

It was incredibly annoying when Luke and MC burst into the library to look for cookbooks and treat recipes after Luke told MC about his baking endeavours. Satan debated ordering a pair of ear plugs on Akuzon...

Or perhaps a laser gun...

Both would make him stop hearing the children’s grating voices.

“You two, be quiet.”

“We haven’t spoken since we got in here...”

“You’re breathing too loud.”

Beel remained the only brother who was actually decent to Luke, they all played Go Fish in Beel’s room.

Levi was in his room playing his new video game just like in canon, but he could hear Luke and MC running around outside his room.

He was fully prepared to do that introvert thing where you stay in your room until you hear someone say goodbye to the guest.

Levi’s eyes were glued to his computer screen, just eight more skeleton monsters to kill and he’d get the achievement! His attention crumbled the moment he heard the dreaded sound of...

Guests...

“Hey MC! Whose room is this?”

The sound of a door opening and closing down the hall caused Levi to jump in his seat. Oh no... his worst fears were realized! There was another person in the house!

“That’s Asmodeus’ room. Luke you shouldn’t go around opening everyone’s doors-”

The sound of another door opening and shutting made Levi pause his game and look at Henry 2.0 for help. Maybe if he jumped into the tank and wrapped himself in his tail he’d camouflage into his surroundings...

BAM!

AAAAA! Not enough time! The guest was drawing nearer... he was going to have to... *barf*... SOCIALIZE!

“How about this room?”

Levi braced himself for the incoming social contact... Fs in the chat everyone...

“We shouldn’t bother Levi, let’s do something else.”

HAJEKDJSJSJSJD- BEEL! BEEL JUST SAVED LEVI’S LIFE!

The poor third born slumped back in his seat, the awfulness of socialization avoided. He uh... hadn’t actually left his room in maybe three days... maybe he should actually go outside... enjoy the nonexistent sunlight, y’know?

...nah. Levi went back to his game.

Since the kitchen was broken, Beel, MC, and Luke went out and get AkuDonald’s. They were all out of the toy that Luke and MC wanted so that trip was a disaster! A disaster I say!

Just the image of Beel happily chomping on his eighth burger while Luke and MC angrily pick at their fries makes me want to laugh.

Now the question you’re all waiting for, did Lucifer try and kill Luke and Beel and then MC for trying to take the Grimoire?

N O

“Whose room is behind that door?” Luke pointed to the door to the attic staircase.

MC shrugged and hit their knuckles against the door a few times. “It’s just the door to the attic. My uh- Lucifer said not to go up there because it’s just full of old junk.”

Normally MC would scoff at the idea of being told what not to do and do it out of spite, but MC was a child, and like most children, they hated scary attics. They hadn’t even attempted to open the door in the month they had lived in the house.

“Hm, maybe he’s hiding something...” Luke puffed out his cheeks and knocked on the door. When met with no answer, Luke turned the doorknob. The door creaked open, and the two peeked inside.

A tall spiral staircase greeted them as they tentatively stepped inside. Not so-good Lord, the room was freezing, but it didn’t seem to bother Luke as he walked further into the room.

“What do you think’s up there?” Luke asked, craning his neck to try and get a look at what could be at the top of the stairs.

MC shuddered and crossed their arms. “Like Lucifer said, junk. Nothing important.”

There was a tingling feeling at the base of MC’s neck, their hand flew to the spot only to find nothing, but the uneasiness didn’t cease. Something was very... very off. A shudder creeped up their spine as Luke stepped closer to the staircase.

“Come on,” Luke tutted, placing a hand on the railing. “Demons are known liars!”

Luke was quite difficult to be friends with sometimes, MC had to admit.

With every step Luke took up the stairs, the sense of dread brewing in MC’s gut grew, but they remained rooted to the spot, it was almost like something was physically stopping them from getting closer to those stairs.

Luke stopped on the sixth step and craned his neck to look up again. “Hello?” He called out.

His little voice echoed up the staircase, he was met with no reply for a moment, until a massive shudder wracked both his and MC’s spines.

“Hello.” A voice replied.

Quick as lightning MC dove forward, taking three steps up the stairs despite what felt like electric shocks stabbing into their skin, and yanked Luke back down the stairs and out the door, closing it behind them. MC heard a lazy, carefree chuckle reverberate through their head, and a message that only MC could hear.

“Leaving so soon, Lucifer?”

...

Spooky right?

Anyway- back to Luke and MC being idiots together.

They headed back to Beel’s room to watch some Devildom kid shows, I assume Tom and Jerry just played on repeat.

Luke explained the reason he ran away from Purgatory Hall, and MC legitimately debated whether or not they should throw Luke out of the nearest window for all the jabs he was taking at demons.

“Simeon was going to go out for tea with Diavolo! He even said that I could ask Barbatos to instruct me on the finer points of baking!”

“What’s so bad about that?”

“They’re demons, MC! Simeon and I are angels from the Celestial Realm! We shouldn’t be consorting with demons.”

Once again, bless Beel and his lack of murderous rage when it came to anything other than food.

“MC, Lucifer would be upset if you broke a window.”

“What’s he talking about?”

“Nothing Luke, nothing you need to worry about.”

Don’t worry, no angels were harmed during the visit.

On day two of the extended sleepover, Luke and MC decided to go running around the house again.

“And this is the basement.” MC put their hands on their hips and kissed their teeth as they looked around the Underground tomb. “Perfectly creepy.”

Luke shuddered. “Is this house nothing but one creepy room after another..?”

MC smiled and stuck out their tongue. Their fear of the attic did not extend to the underground tomb. Not that they were actually afraid of the attic or anything...

“Why? You scared some big monster is gonna getcha?” MC teased.

“No!” Luke gasped. “I’m not scared!”

MC began to walk backwards into the darker depths of the tomb, their teasing tone echoing off of the walls. “Then come on! Don’t be chicken!”

Luke looked back and forth from the door out of there, to the rapidly disappearing figure of MC, he rushed after MC.

“I’m not scared of some dark basement.” Luke huffed.

“Why not~?” MC snickered. “There could be ghosts down here... tortured souls of those who were damned to Hell for all eternity~!”

MC swiped Luke’s hat and placed it on their head, Luke jumped at the sudden contact and began to try and get the hat back from MC.

“Stop trying to scare me!” Luke yapped, MC laughed and began to jog deeper into the tomb.

“Maybe there’s a monster that eats chihuahuas down here too! Who knows!” MC twirled the hat with their fingers and ran a little faster when Luke ran after them.

“I AM NOT A CHIHUAHUA!”

Sure, maybe it wasn’t the best course of action to tease and scare one’s friend instead of telling them what they said earlier was mean, but MC wasn’t the best at decision making.

When MC reached a dead end, they stopped and looked around, Luke crashed right into them. He managed to swipe his hat back from a now disinterested MC.

MC’s gaze landed on a book being held up by a statue, they padded over and looked up at it.

“Luke, do you know what that is?” MC asked, turning to look at their now very miffed friend.

“The... book? I don’t know.”

Truthfully, MC didn’t know either. During their first tour of the house, Mammon had interrupted the Underground tomb segment and Lucifer had to cut the tour short.

“It’s uh...” MC pursed their lips and tried to think of a convincing lie. “A spell book. Lucifer told me that it makes your magic really really strong, so he stuck it down here to hide it from Solomon.”

“Did I now?”

MC and Luke screamed and whirled around, there stood Lucifer himself, not looking terribly pleased with the two of them.

“MC, care to explain why you and the angel are so close to the Grimoire?” Lucifer’s words were icily calm, and MC knew that meant if they didn’t come up with a good explanation they’d be in big trouble.

“W-we were just playing down here...” MC trailed off, looking to Luke for some kind of backup before realizing what a stupid idea that was.

“Y-yeah! We were just-”

Lucifer stuck his thumb over his shoulder and glowered at the two. “Out.”

“Yes sir.” Luke and MC mumbled as they stepped away from the Grimoire, Lucifer relaxed slightly as the two walked past him and down the hall.

When the two got back up to Beel’s room, Luke suddenly gasped and turned to MC.

“You said it was a spell book!”

After that, MC got the feeling that Luke was no longer welcome in the house. What was the big deal about almost touching the Grimoire anyway? It could only override pacts and control demons-

Oh.

Balls.

Simeon got called to pick up Luke and before the two of them left MC assured Luke that he could come over and hang out anytime as long as he texted first.

Beel said Luke could come over and bake when the kitchen was fixed, poor Beel would have to do without Luke’s baked goods for a little while longer.

MC rested their chin on the coffee table they were kneeling in front of, stewing in annoyance. Their unfinished homework was practically mocking them, but the Demonology textbook was not what had them in their funk.

“MC, do your homework.” Lucifer said from the living room couch, he was comparing his phone to notes in a binder that was placed on his lap.

A grunt from MC caused him to raise an eyebrow. Their grasp on demonic language had improved, but Lucifer did not approve of them using their new skill to sass him.

“MC.” Lucifer chided, MC turned to look at him with a deadpan expression. “If there’s something wrong, either tell me, or do your work without complaining.”

MC turned back to their homework and tapped their pencil against the textbook, before puffing out their cheek and turning back to Lucifer.

“What’s in the attic?”

For the briefest of moments, Lucifer froze, he forcibly relaxed and went back to his work.

“Junk.” Lucifer replied. “Did you try and go up there?”

MC shook their head. “No, I went into the staircase room, but not up the stairs.”

Lucifer’s eyes flashed, he then took a deep breath and looked at MC. “Good, there’s nothing of interest up there anyway. If you did go up there you might break something or hurt yourself.”

“Okay.” MC sighed, trying to push the voice from the attic out of their mind. “What about the Grimoire? Why is it down in the tomb?”

Lucifer could feel his patience growing thinner and thinner with every question. “So it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

“Why not just destroy it?” MC asked, their question wasn’t meant to be taken as an insult or be malicious, it was just legitimate curiosity. “Wouldn’t that be safer?”

The first born hesitated before he answered. He looked over MC, before shaking his head. “...I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

MC’s eyes narrowed, but they went back to their work all the same. It would be about ten minutes of quiet before MC spoke up again.

“When Belphegor gets back from the human world, you’re going to have a lot of explaining to do, huh?”

Lucifer’s eyes snapped up to look at MC, who still had their back turned to him as they scribbled notes from the textbook. His grip on his DDD tightened as he replied.

“Why do you say that, MC?”

MC didn’t seem to register their father’s clipped tone, and shrugged. “Beel said that he isn’t answering his texts or calls, and when he sent up a letter Belphegor didn’t respond to that either.”

“The life of an exchange student is a busy one, as you can see.” Lucifer forcibly injected his last bit of remaining calmness into his words as he gestured at MC’s homework. MC laughed at that.

“Yeah well, I still make time to call my friends and ren back up in the human world.” MC giggled. “And I’m sure those text notifications about his older brother discovering that he has a child would make him pick up the phone.”

“Belphegor might have a much larger workload.” Lucifer retorted, trying to keep himself from snapping at MC.

“But still, you’d think he’d call his-”

“MC-” Lucifer snarled, MC whirled around, the fear and shock in their eyes caused anything Lucifer was going to say to die in his throat.

The two stared at each other for a few seconds, before Lucifer took another deep breath and turned back to his work.

“Not right now, MC,” Lucifer whispered. “I’m working.”

...

To be continued...

#Obey me #Obey me!#obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date?#obey me headcanons #obey me! headcanons #Obey me MC #Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Asmodeus #Obey me Satan #Lucifer’s Kid #Obey me Beelzebub #Obey me Mammon #Obey me Belphegor #Obey me Leviathan #Obey me Luke #when I say to be continued- I mean more diverging from canon #I have a feeling the lovely London family trip went smoothly... totally

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hualianff · 3 years

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Vampire/Human AU

(Slight NSFW, angst)

Thinking about vampire HC who owns a vampire-friendly bar with humans who apply as donors to supply fresh blood for vampires willing to pay the expensive prices. When a human with beautiful amber eyes, soft facial features, and blood that smells absolutely delectable, walks in, every vampire whips their heads towards the door. The human approaches one of the staff, YY, to inquire about becoming a donor. HC watches as the enticing morsel follows YY into a room to finalize his application.

Right after the human leaves thirty minutes later–YY probably having said it would take a few days to find him a match–HC pulls YY aside, demanding to have a look over the papers the new donor filled out. After a quick scan, HC shoves the papers back to YY with a click of his tongue,

“No need to find him a match. He’s mine.”

A human whose blood smells heavenly, who has never been bitten or even nipped by a vampire. HC wants to corrupt him. Ruin him.

The next night, HC has the human, XL, meet him in his personal feeding room. There’s a luxurious velvet couch to the side, a pristine glass table with fancy wine and glasses, and a king-sized bed with crimson silk laid upon the mattress.

HC, like most vampires, typically feeds while stimulating their donors. This can be done with something as simple as kissing or full-on intercourse. Not only does this relax the human’s nerves so they won’t tense up before being bitten, but the toxins injected into their system after being bitten feels incredibly euphoric, serving as a kind of aphrodisiac. Many humans donate their blood in this way for the sole reason of attaining this heightened sense of pleasure.

But as soon as XL enters the room in front of HC, his mind freezes as he sees the bed.

“I’m a virgin,” he blurts out, wide eyes panicked as he looks at the vampire. HC raises his eyebrow, unperturbed.

“We can work with that.”

XL gulps.

“I’ve also never kissed anyone.”

HC runs a tongue along his sharp fangs.

“Do you want to change that?” The vampire asks, walking up behind the human, pressing his chest against XL’s back. HC hears XL’s heart rate pick up at the proposition. It’s an unspoken yes, though XL also imperceptibly nods his head. He does not see HC’s lips spread into a vicious grin. However, XL does feel lips brush against the shell of his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

“Use your words, precious. Do you want to be kissed? Want to be touched, experience pleasure beyond comprehension?” HC murmurs, skimming his lips across XL’s nape. “I can fuck you too. Push into your little body as I sink my fangs into your neck. I’d place them right here-“ HC taps XL’s jugular, the human jerking to the side with a gasp. “-oh? So sensitive. All the better. I can make you feel so good.”

XL’s breath quickens, ever so slightly leaning back into HC’s tall frame. HC leans forward to catch a glimpse of those doe eyes regarding him with caution. Oh, how he wants to eat this human alive. HC turns XL around by his shoulders. He lowers his head to bump foreheads with XL, forcing the human to look into his red-tinged eyes.

“Is that a yes?”

XL blinks those doe eyes once, then twice.

“Yes.”

HC brings his hand up to brush a hair away from the human’s head.

“Wonderful.”

***

XL is at the point in his life when he lost everything. He chose to pursue a career outside of his parents’ embroidery business despite being expected to take over the shop after college. Abandoning college altogether, XL went off on his own to chase his dream to become a singer.

A few years later, where XL was provinces away from home, XL’s parents’ business had gone under, devastating them as they could no longer pay for their medical bills. Upon hearing the news, XL rushed back home to take care of them. It seemed they had kept their declining health conditions under wraps. They were too prideful to admit their weakening physical states; they also did not want to guilt XL into giving up on his ambitions to take care of them.

XL’s parents lasted one year before passing away, his father first due to prostate cancer, his mother one month later after succumbing to exhaustion and grief. XL lost their home along with the shop merely a week later, unable to pay off the debt. His parents had used up their savings for their medical expenses and XL had been scraping by as a musician for years. Additionally, there was no one he could confide in. He had lost contact with his friends as he moved from city to city, busking on streets, attempting to catch the attention of music labels.

XL was utterly alone. There were days when not even music could bring an ounce of comfort. However, music was the thing that kept him sane between the various side jobs he managed to pick up to keep him off the streets.

As if the fates decided XL had had enough bad luck for a lifetime, a CEO of a fairly well-known label offered him a business card after a busking session. It was JW of Capital Records who gave XL hope of achieving his dream. XL spent most of his late 20s under the label, training and practicing and producing. He had the chance to record a couple of singles and one mini-album–which he didn’t get to participate much in the production side–but other than that, XL didn’t make it far. He was tremendously overworked and yet, still discarded to the side.

Wondering why he wasn’t provided the opportunities other artists received to further their careers, XL scheduled a one-on-one meeting with the CEO to ask what he was lacking. JW had insisted he could give XL more opportunities if XL could offer something more than just his serene vocals and pretty face.

The unspoken suggestion that XL offer up his body pierced his heart with yet another stake. Overwhelming disappointment and betrayal crashed into XL, but perhaps he should have known better that the whole situation was too good to be true. XL vehemently rejected this idea, angering JW who eventually tore XL down to the point of a medical emergency that allowed him to leave the agency without repercussions.

At age thirty-two, XL was left with no family, mental and physical trauma, and a dying will. Ironically enough, the song lyrics he’d written after experiencing so much loss were the closest thing to making music he’d gotten. But in the end, XL still felt like a failure.

Now in Xi’an, XL was left with limited options to earn money for rent. He already worked two part-time jobs in addition to writing music—though even time set aside for this has dwindled.

One night, as XL was walking home after closing up the convenience store, he saw the neon lights of the sign “Ghost City.” He’s heard many things about this club and is no stranger to the existence of nonhuman creatures roaming amongst human society. After hours of research, XL decided to apply to become a blood donor. It’s not like he had a better option that paid more anyway.

XL’s hope to somehow redeem his past actions has all but fizzled out. He doesn’t expect a vampire like HC to care about his comfort or consent when feeding, though HC still prioritizes these things for some reason.

XL has never looked at his body and thought about the best ways to pleasure himself. HC shows him how. HC caresses and kisses XL like he’s worth being handled with care; HC also invades XL’s body as a threat to break it, broadcasting a vampire’s strength, speed, and endurance in the bedroom.

XL can go as far as to say he even looks forward to his time with HC. In between a busy work life and dealing with people who would rather look the other way than give him the time of day, XL’s mind and body steadily weaken.

It starts with memory loss, where XL can’t clearly remember the conversations he’d had the day before. One of the reasons this develops is because he goes through many days without having anyone to tell about his day. It’s like the life XL lives is so insignificant, nothing about it is worth remembering.

Then, it’s the lack of eating. Most of XL’s money goes towards rent, essentials, and groceries. But he’s not a great cook. And he’s already drained by the time he gets home after working both jobs and visiting Ghost City. XL’s stress doesn’t help, adding to the fatigue that gradually shuts his body down.

While HC might not be able to taste a difference in XL’s blood, he does notice how frail the human moves around. How delayed XL responds, more so than he should be–even as a human. XL has scheduled more visits: three times a week this time. However, his words become less. He stops telling the little stories that brought a small smile to his face. XL doesn’t even mention the songs he’s been working on lately.

HC forces himself to ask about them after an especially rough coupling.

“How’s the songwriting going, darling?” HC asks quietly. He props his elbow upon his pillow, resting his cheek on his hand as he intently observes the human struggling to catch his breath, eyelids fluttering.

“I haven’t written anything new,” XL breathily answers. HC purses his lips. He ducks down to affectionately tongue at the skin his fangs pierced.

“No? In how long?” HC asks. XL sighs heavily.

“Maybe three weeks.”

HC doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s not one to console anybody. No one had afforded him that luxury, and naturally, he did not grant anyone else his concern. The silence that follows is unbearable.

***

The next time XL visits, he’s the one to initiate their first kiss. HC growls happily against his human’s lips, pinning him against the closed door of his private room. XL moans obscenely as HC languidly licks into his mouth. His arms desperately wrap around HC’s neck to bring him closer.

“Someone’s eager,” HC says with a chuckle as he pulls back. XL instantly attaches his lips to the vampire’s jaw, peppering light kisses along the pale skin. HC can’t help but think he’s taught his little human well. XL hums while trailing his lips back to HC’s, capturing them in a kiss that’s the sweetest one yet.

HC should’ve noticed how unstable XL’s legs seemed, how dreadful the bags under his eyes looked before indulging in their bedroom activities. He should’ve kept track all along of how thin XL is, how much more skin and bone he had become. HC is certainly not one to intrude on someone else’s life and scrutinize all their choices. But he should’ve said something sooner.

Maybe then, XL’s heart wouldn’t have stuttered so violently, or completely stopped beating for five counts.

HC watches in horror as XL’s eyes roll into the back of his head. His human’s body goes limp in his arms, collapsing into HC’s chest. When XL’s heart beat starts up again, it’s very weak. There’s a noticeable abnormality in its rhythm.

HC quickly gathers XL in his arms and speeds to the bed. He sits back against the pillow, placing XL to recline against his front. HC hooks his arms around XL’s middle from behind, anxiously listening to XL’s irregular heartbeat that seems like it takes all of his human’s energy to pump. Luckily, XL awakens a few minutes later. He registers a cold embrace and warm puffs of breath lingering near his ear.

“Did I pass out?” XL wheezes out, unconsciously melting into the body behind him.

“Yes,” HC says tightly. “Your heartbeat is uneven. Something is wrong.”

XL can’t tell if he’s imagining it but that sounded like worry in the vampire’s tone.

“Oh.”

HC inhales sharply.

“You just fainted, Xie Lian. Hell, your heart just stopped for a few seconds, and all you have to say is ‘oh?’” HC grinds out.

So he is upset. XL swallows thickly, not wanting to escalate things and further upset the vampire.

“It’s okay,” XL says. “I’m okay-“

“No. You’re not,” HC interrupts.

XL takes a deep breath, wincing slightly as HC tightens his arms around his hips. He’s more sensitive than normal, XL realizes. Before XL can defend himself further, HC grasps XL’s chin and turns his head to face the vampire.

“You’re hiding something from me,” he states. He hears XL’s heart speed up. “There’s no use in lying. I can tell you’ve grown weaker since you first came.”

“Well, I have been donating my blood to a certain vampire for a few months now. I’m bound to be a bit weak in my legs,” XL replies as a matter of factly. He means to poke fun at the situation rather than acknowledge the severity of it. HC knows this because he’s done it numerous times himself. But when XL does it, it makes HC’s blood boil.

“Are you saying I am causing this- this deterioration in your health?” HC asks tensely. XL lets out a gasp, whirling around in HC’s arms, immediately backpedaling.

“No! No, not at all.”

HC’s eyes assess his human who trembles slightly in his arms. He cradles XL in between his legs, hands shifting XL further up his body so he can rest his head on HC’s chest. HC gently pets XL’s hair, an action that was uncharacteristic of him months ago, before XL had walked through the entrance of his bar.

XL gently smiles in an attempt to placate the vampire.

HC’s eyes flash a frightening scarlet.

“I don’t believe you.”

XL’s face crumples.

“It’s true! I’ve just been really busy is all. Work has been hectic and- and-“ gone is the innocence that HC once saw in XL’s doe eyes, instead replaced by stress and utter brokenness that alarms the vampire to no end. A voice in the back of HC’s head snarls that those emotions had always been behind XL’s eyes; they were simply better hidden, and HC had been too lust-driven to notice.

XL continues his rambling, frantically shaking his head. “-I took some extra shifts because I needed the money to pay for some water damage that flooded half my apartment. I’m fine—truly.“

If HC had a beating heart, it would have dropped down to his stomach at the sudden realization. His fingers dig into the paper-thin skin of XL’s hips, then trace up the bony knobs of his spine.

“You’re not eating right.”

“Wait- S-san Lang-“

The nickname HC had asked XL to call him is hurdled back into his face like a stone aimed to shatter. It sounds like a cry for help.

“And you’re not getting enough sleep,” HC concludes with a disapproving frown. His eyes now glow a deep crimson, matching the silken sheets that HC ensures are in perfect condition every time XL visits.

“Fuck, XIE LIAN, you know you need proper nutrition and rest to recover from each night you spend with me!” HC is nearly shouting now, voice wavering out of his control. Who knew another creature could make him feel so strongly?

“I-I am!”

“I SAID NOT TO LIE TO ME. I CAN TELL WHEN YOU’RE NOT BEING HONEST,” HC explodes, spatting those words with a poison that he often uses with uncooperative subordinates, but never directed at XL before.

Tears glisten in XL’s eyes as he’s cornered with no way out, no relief from the building pressure that suffocates him. Right now, after everything XL has been through, this seems to be his tipping point. He never expected HC to care this much. Or perhaps HC is just concerned his reliable supply of blood is flaking out on him, just when he’s had a feasible taste.

XL is sure HC has plenty of other donors to feed on. It’s not like XL is particularly special in that way. Frankly speaking, XL had time and time again asked the universe to give him one last sign that his life mattered in some capacity. But if he couldn’t see the value in his own life, who else could?

XL scrambles off from HC’s lap, allowing himself to speak with the deep-seated spite that has grown in his heart like an untamable weed.

“THERE’S NO NEED TO GET SO WORKED UP OVER MY HEALTH!! I’LL BE GONE SOON ANYWAY! THE DOCTOR GAVE ME THREE MORE MONTHS,” XL screams, having to catch his breath after exerting so much power into his voice. “So there. You have my answer. I’m not lying this time. Just one a couple more months and then- then you won’t have to deal with my shit anymore, okay?”

HC can’t move. He can’t speak either. The shock taking over his system renders his mind and body completely useless. He can only stare blankly at XL whose tears now cascade down his cheeks.

No, this cannot be happening-

XL’s whimpers pull HC out of his head. The human hugs his own frail body, shivering from a coldness that does not exist in the room.

How did HC let it get so bad?

“I’m sick, San Lang. Very, very sick. Not just physically,” XL whispers defeatedly, letting out a small hiccup.

HC doesn’t hesitate to surge forward to throw his arms around XL, hugging him once more. It’s a habit now—to hold XL whenever he could. Now, HC wonders how many more times he would get this chance before it was inevitably the last.

“Xie Lian…”

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I-I just can’t eat. Sometimes from stress, other times I completely forget. And I want to rest, but I end up laying in bed awake for hours a-and my mind just won’t let me sleep-”

For the first time in over a decade, there is someone else to hear XL’s agonized wails.

“Please believe me, San Lang. Please."

#tgcf #heaven official's blessing #tian guan ci fu #hualian #hualian au #cerdrabbles #xie lian #hua cheng #human xie lian #vampire hua cheng #sorry it's rushed

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crowdedimagines · 4 years

Text

Leaked Pt. 2 - Harry Styles

PART ONE

Harry and I follow Gemma back into the house. I cross my arms over my chest, fighting the chill from outside that seems to linger in my bones now. We take a seat back at the table, everyone seems to be stressed and tired of talking, I don’t blame them. I’m thankful Harry and I got a break from it.

“Alright, so we were able to detect what they had access to and what was downloaded from the online server.” Andrew, whose name I learned, says looking at both Harry and I to explain.

“So what else did they get?” Harry questions, he sits up a little straighter in his chair.

“It looks like they also had access to some audio files.”

“Audio files?”

“What? The studio version of medicine?” I tease, assuming that whatever it was can’t be too bad. Harry’s had songs leak before, even if it’s something that ended up being scrapped it can’t be the end of the world. It can’t be as bad as a leaked image of us across twitter.

“No, it looks like they only took several files dated July 15th of 2019.”

“July 15th?” I raise my brows.

“What happened-” Harry starts to question the significance, but it instantly clicks for me. All of the humor and lightheartedness I had is knocked right out of me.

“Fuck-” I pull my hair back over my shoulder. The chill that clung to my bones is gone now, now I can feel myself break out into a sweat. Harry turns to look at me and as soon as our eyes meet I can tell that it’s clicked for him as well.

“It’s our song” Harry states, his voice so quiet that I’m sure not everyone in the room caught it. His voice is soft and low, barely registering.

“Your song?” Anne prompts, her face full of concern as she notice’s the color that’s completely drained from our faces.

“Can we clear out the room for a few minutes?” Harry asks, he takes his hand in mine and nods for Anne and Gemma to fill the seats that have now been vacated.

“Can I?” Harry looks at me for permission before continuing. I give him a soft smile and nod, at this point I’m glad they’ll know. I’d rather they know than the whole world.

“July 15th was the day Y/n and I got back from the hospital.” Harry swallows, “The day before Y/n had suffered a miscarrige.”

The silence in the room is louder than I could’ve expected. Gemma and Anne look at each other, obviously shocked before turning their attention back to us. Their expressions seem just as solemn now.

“So the audio file is?” Gemma looks between us confused.

“So together we wrote a song for our daughter.” I nod, tears slipping without being able to stop them.

“It was really therapeutic, I think we both sobbed through practically the whole thing.” He looks to me and I just nod and agree. Harry’s hand still hasn’t left mine.

“I’m sorry that you guys had to find out this way.” I pull my head up to finally make eye contact. Tears are still slowly streaming, but I’m able to blink past them, “We had been so excited to tell you guys that we were expecting and it was only a few weeks after that we had already lost her.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Anne says, her eyes filling up with tears of her own at this point.

“So this was right before you guys broke up.” Gemma realizes, “Is that-?”

She doesn’t seem to be able to finish her own thought. The air in the room is a little too heavy. If I wasn’t drained before, I am now.

“Partly.” Harry nods.

“It wasn’t a lie that the stress of always being apart tore us apart, but going through something like that and then having to fly across the world. We didn’t get to heal from that together, and it ruined our relationship.”

Third Person POV

Slowly the group makes their way back in. Harry makes it very clear to all of them that they need to do everything in their power to stop that audio file from seeing the light of day. It crushed him to see the defeated look on Y/n’s face. She looks exhausted. Harry can’t pull his eyes from her saddened face every couple of seconds. The last thing he wants is for her to feel emotionally exposed as well as physically.

“Y/n, why don’t we go off to bed.” Anne gets up from her spot and places a gentle hand on the younger girl's shoulder. She only nods and lets Anne lead her up stairs. No one else at the table comments, no one dares. Harry’s eyes follow her as Anne wraps an arm around her shoulder and they walk up the stairs.

Anne leads her to Harry’s room, knowing that she was bound to stay there after everything that’s happened today. No one can blame her for being so tired, it was only a few hours ago that she landed. She’s had her body exposed to the world and now there’s the potential for one of the most intimate parts of her to be exposed as well. Today has been the day from hell for Y/n.

Y/n changes into one of Harry’s shirts and tucks herself in under the covers. It’s been over a year since she’s been in this bed. Anne comes back in to check on her, noticing her eyelids are falling heavy as they talk.

Anne curls up in the sitting chair on the other side of the master bedroom. It doesn’t feel right to leave her alone right now in this state and she doesn’t exactly feel like participating in the conversations downstairs anymore. It leaves a bitter taste in her mouth hearing people speak so casually over something so personal.

It’s a few hours later when Harry makes his way upstairs and he’s surprised to see either of them in his room. He looks like the definition of exhausted. His mom looks up from her book and glances over to see that Y/n is still asleep.

“Is she alright?” Harry asks, looking at the girl curled up in his bed.

“She will be.” Anne sets down the book. She pulls the blanket off of her shoulders and folds it up neatly.

“Did you guys get anything decided?” Anne questions, making her way over to her son by the door.

“Yeah, Jordan and Jeff both agree that it might be in our best interest to release a statement. If it gets out we’ll obviously need to address it. They want to talk it over again tomorrow morning once Y/n is feeling a bit better.”

“Sounds great, love.” Anne presses a soft kiss to his cheek before letting herself out.

Harry breaks his stare on the love of his life so he can get ready for bed himself. He brushes his teeth and does his night routine as quietly as he can. From what he remembers, it always used to wake Y/n up anyway, but she’s exhausted.

He finally finishes up and hovers over his side of the bed, unsure if he should cross that line. Sure she’s laying in his bed, but that doesn’t mean it’s an open invitation for them to share the bed.

“Just get in already.” Her voice surprises Harry. Her eyes didn’t even flinch to open. Harry doesn’t need to be told twice, he slides in on his side.

“What are we going to tell the fans?” Her voice a soft echo in the silence.

Harry lets out a long sigh, moving to lay on his back.

“I don’t know. How much do we want them to know? Neither of us have ever let the fans in like this before.”

“But aren’t they going to figure it out anyway? We know that they’re smart, and our lyrics were hardly veiled.”

“I think I would rather tell them. If we can’t stop it from getting out there, I would want to avoid as many conspiracy theories as possible. How do you feel about it?”

Y/n reaches out her hand to connect it with Harry’s. His head snaps over to look at her and she’s staring down at where her fingers fiddle with his rings.

“I feel comfortable with that. The whole world is going to know now.”

His words fill the silence, Y/n only letting out a sigh in response.

“I should call my parents and let them know. Y/S/N too. They deserve to know before the story breaks.”

Y/n shifts back onto her side facing away from him, letting Harry’s hand drop in the process. He turns to his side, facing the same direction as her. She turns back, looking over her shoulder towards him.

“Thank you.” Her voice a soft whisper, her eyes meeting his after glancing over his bare chest.

“What for?” He clears his throat, his voice catching from speaking so softly.

“For being you Harry. For being understanding and loving in spite of everything.” She turns back to rest her head back on the pillow, “I don’t think there’s anyone else I would want to have to go through this with.”

Harry scoots closer, he hovers his arm over her waist before settling it when there weren’t any protests. Y/n places her hand on top of his, holding it securely against her.

“I will always love you, Y/n. I wish we didn’t have to go through this, but I’m glad to have you too.”

Those are the last words they exchange that night.

Y/n’s POV

The sun is rising, alerting me that I need to get up and get ready. I manage to snake my way out of Harry’s grasp before he can wake up as well. I make my way to the bathroom and take a long shower.

“Jordan brought in your suitcase last night.” Harry informs.

“Oh, great. Thank you!”

He simply nods before going into the bathroom himself to get ready for the morning. I wrap the towel a little tighter around my body and quickly make my way downstairs to grab my bag. By the time I get back to Harry’s room I can hear the water running in the shower. It gives me enough time to get dressed and escape down to the kitchen before he exits.

“Good morning!” Anne smiles from her spot at the stove.

“Morning.” I smile, I take a seat next to a sleepy Gemma.

“This coffee isn’t even helping.” Gemma groans, throwing her head on my shoulder and closing her eyes.

“That’s because Mum made it.” Harry says as he walks in with a wet head, “Have Y/n make the next batch. That’ll surely get you wide awake.”

“Sounds like an excuse to get my world famous coffee if you ask me.” I eye him with a smile.

“You caught me, love.” He grabs plates for everyone and starts setting the table, noticing his mother is getting close to being done with all the food. I tap Gemma softly on the shoulder so I can get up and make a new pot of coffee. Harry always used to tell me my coffee was his favorite, it always packed a punch.

We all settle at the table, Harry with a large mug of the hot coffee.

“Anne, everything looks wonderful.” I smile looking over everything she’s prepared.

“Thank you.” She grins.

We all dig in, too hungry to prolong it anymore.

“What time is everyone getting here?” I ask, mainly waiting for Harry to answer.

“Within the hour.”

“Have you guys decided what you’re going to do?” Gemma sets down her fork to look at the both of us, prompting me to turn and look at Harry.

“We’re going to tell the fans. We want them to hear it from us, take away the power from the person who hacked my phone.” Harry explains.

“Yeah, that reminds me. I need to call my parents.” I dab the corners of the mouth with a napkin before excusing myself.

Harry’s POV

I watch as Y/n leaves the room to make the call privately.

“So, how is she?” Anne asks, focusing on me.

“With all things considered, I think she’s doing alright.” I take a sip of the coffee that’s still warm, “We both agreed that we’re going to tell the fans today. Clarify a few things.”

“I think that’s a good idea.” Gemma nods.

“Me too. It’s nice having her here again.” My mum smiles looking at me.

“Mum, don’t go there.” I warn.

“I didn’t mean anything by it!” She defends, “I just said it’s nice.”

“She’s right.” Gemma chimes in, “Y/n has always been our favorite. We all know that your story with her is far from over.”

I simply shake my head, knowing better than to argue with these two. It’s a short while later Y/n makes a reappearance, her eye’s red and puffy.

“Alright, everyone’s in the know.” She sighs.

Right on que there’s a knock on the door. I’m sure it’s just starting that our teams are showing up. Ready to start a new day.

“Alright, so Harry said that you guys agreed on putting out a statement. We can get started on that today. We need to decide how we want to do it, we have a few options.” Jordan explains, “We can type up a statement from both of you and release it on social media or if you guys wanted to say something.”

“Like a video?” Y/n asks.

“Exactly. It’s totally up to you guys, it’s a matter of preference.” Jeff cuts in, “Sometimes it's a little more comfortable to do it that way so you can say exactly what you want and people can hear your tone, but at the same time it’s a lot more personal this way.”

“What do you want to do?” Y/n suddenly turns to get my opinion.

“I’m fine with either-”

“C’mon, what’s your head saying.” She has a soft knowing smile on her face. I smile back at her because how could I not.

“I think that if we’re coming clean and trying to be honest about things, it could be good to have it actually coming from our mouths.”

“I agree.” She turns back to look at Jordan and Jeff, “So how exactly do we go about that?”

“So we’ll start by-”

Jeff stops speaking as his phone buzzes, he glances down quickly and his eyes widen for a second. Whatever it is it’s enough to have completely captured his attention.

“What is it?” I ask, I start spinning one of my rings subconsciously. It takes what feels like minutes of pure silence, but in actuality it’s only a few seconds for him to answer.

“The audio file is out.”

Fuck.

i’m sorry for all the switching of POVs but that’s the best way i felt I could communicate how i wanted things to go.

PART 3?!?! how are we feeling? mini series?

#harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #Harry Styles

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oz-the-sorcerer · 3 years

Text

Create For Thra Day 6: "There are many paths laid before us, some good, most bad."

@createforthra

Here's a thing I have written months ago, which happens to be a perfect fit for today's topic!

Excuse my writing skills and enjoy!... Or cry.

🌟

Open Your Eyes

🌟

Kira tried to wipe away some of the blush from her freckled cheeks. She loved her reflection on the dressing mirror, but she thought her mom could do her make up a little bit less.

She heard her mom laugh.

"And here I was wondering how long would it take you to remove some of it."

"But it feels heavy, you know I like how I look."

"Yes honey, but this is a special occasion... Spare me this once?"

Kira rolled her eyes playfully as Brea braided her silver hair with beads. Kira's hair fell from her shoulders, she especially wanted side braids like her gorgeous mother, but had thin side braids instead of thick ones. She made them herself, then Brea offered help attaching the beads. Brea made two braids, connecting into one thick braid at the center.

"Looking good as ever." Came a silent voice. Kira turned to her aunt, whose body, spider body, was sitting on top of the counter. She couldn't help but blush, looking down.

"Don't move your head, sweetheart." Brea said, posing her head straight again.

"Sorry. I am just... Excited." She was terrifyingly aware of her heartbeat, tried to take a deep breath.

"I can sense your fear." Tavra walked with her thin legs and stopped between Kira and the mirror. "You have nothing to be afraid of."

"I can't help it." Kira explained. " I wish I could know what the future holds for me, like Mother Aughra. Maybe then I wouldn't be this vulnerable."

"You are not vulnerable." She felt her mother tug on her finished braid as a warning. She didn't like it when Kira dragged herself down this way. "Do you think I didn't feel afraid? I thought I was going to faint."

"Ah yes, glad that you only puked and didn't faint."

"Tavra!"

Kira started to laugh. Well, this story was new.

"You puked?! Why didn't you tell me?!"

"I didn't want my daughter to know this ridiculous fact, thank you very much."

"She was so excited, so she ate whatever she could find from the kitchen and made herself sick." Tavra spoke mischievously.

"I had to keep myself busy!" Brea argued with her big sister. Kira loved their bickering. They were almost never serious with it, that's why Kira even started some of them on purpose.

While they were stating opinions on how to cope with these kinds of excitement, Kira looked at the mirror once more, and decided her fear was a good thing. She would always have her loved ones by her side, possibly talking nonsense like this and she realized, there was nothing to be afraid of. Her future, their future was filled with hope and laughter, she just knew it.

Another deep breath. And a big smile.

"Alright, all done here." Her mother said. For final touch, Tavra brought her golden coronet, which Brea placed on Kira's brow.

A knock on the door which made Kira's heart flip. Only Onica's wild red hair could be seen since she opened the door ajar while talking with someone outside the dressing room. Tavra's tiny body bounced with joy. When Onica came in, they also saw Tae outside, waving at them.

"We are all set. You can come out whenever you want." said the Far-Dreamer.

"Thra's Mighty Hooyim King, you look amazing, Kira!" Tae cheered.

Kira thanked her while she got up from her chair. Her white gown with gold and silver rands fell smoothly behind her. Embroidered with both Vapra and Spriton symbols, she was very proud of this dress she made herself.

One last glance at her reflection, one last deep breathe.

Brea reached to fix her bangs while Onica put out her hand for Tavra to climb on. Tavra wished her a good luck with: "Go get him!" while moving her legs exaggeratively, causing a big laughter in the room.

Then they got out, it was only her and her mother now. Brea's eyes were shining, her little fizzgig was now all grown up, taking another big step in her life.

"Mother, I will be okay."

"I know, baby."

"So, don't cry."

Brea abruptly wiped her tears on her long sleeve, trying not to smear her make up. Then she held Kira's hand and squuezed. Supposedly, they promised each other just this morning as a family that they weren't going to cry.

But all those hardships back in the trines, almost getting killed by a Garthim several times... Brea still couldn't believe it was all over. Skeksis no more.

Another knock on the door, and this time both of their eyes sparkled, as the legendary songteller stepped in to the dressing room with a blinding smile.

Kylan stopped in his tracks and stared at his daughter in awe. Kira laughed and went to hug him.

"Please don't start crying like mother did just now."

Kylan chuckled as he wrapped his arms around her and spinned once. Then he sent a playful smirk on Brea's way and said: "It seems you lost our bet, love."

Brea pretended to be angry with a pout, but when she glanced at her little family, she smiled until her cheeks hurt.

"I want a hug too!" she said as she took big steps towards her husband. Kylan opened one arm for her and immidiately in she was. Kira leaned on her father's shoulder, which always felt like home. After some minutes, Brea sniffled once more, and Kira reached and hugged her as well. This is nice, she thought. It had been a while since they could be like this because of the fussy preparations.

When they let go, Kylan placed both hands on her cheeks and kissed her forehead. Kira could see his eyes becoming misty with emotion as well. She smiled widely with the same eyes she has as her father.

Brea took his arm and started to lead him toward the door.

"Aww, I don't want to give her to Jen yet!"

Brea raised a laugh. "You are not giving her to anyone, honey. Let's give her a moment and take our places at the balcony."

Then she flashed Kira a proud look, and they were gone.

Kira felt aware of her heart again. She couldn't stop this fuzzy feeling inside her stomach and bounced around happily. Calm yourself before you sweat inside the dress, she thought to herself. She let go of the fists she made without noticing, and reached for the door.

Citadel's hallways were empty. As she passed each one, she heard the Gelf folk outside, crowded and excited, just like her. The noise grew louder and louder, then she made a left turn, reaching the last corridor before the Citadel's balcony.

She already could see her parents, on the left side. Brea was already looking at her direction and when she saw Kira coming, she gently elbowed Kylan's arm, causing him to look at her too. And the smile he gave her was everything. Before she teared up, she took a right glance, and saw Rian and Deet, also waiting for her to arrive.

With all the rustling her parents caused, Jen turned around where he was standing at the center and their eyes met.

The flutter inside her chest made her think that she was really about to let go of the lunch she had at noon.

Even if he tried to, Jen couldn't stop looking at her until she was at his side. He awkwardly reached his hand out for her. She took it eagerly.

They both stood straight before her Aunt Seladon, who was going to perform their marriage ceremony. She smiled down at them lovingly, which, Kira didn't experience often much before.

Kira glanced down at all the Gelfling who attended their wedding. Besides the whole citizens of Ha'rar, she could see many faces from every clan. Well, if there is any left, at this point.

Her Uncle Gurjin and Auntie Naia were cheering loudly, as well as her Uncle Amri. As her closest family friends, they had every right to scream.

She couldn't even begin to count everyone she knew when her eyes locked with a figure, at the very back of the crowd. Her eyes widened as the old creature's crane's shard shined with light.

"Mother Aughra..." she let out before she could manage. Jen smiled knowingly.

"I also thought she wouldn't be here today."

Kira, not being sure if Aughra could see it, bowed her head slowly at her direction. Jen followed right after her, thanking Mother Thra for everything she's done for the Gelfling.

When they finally started the ceremony, Aughra snickered loudly.

"These kids..." she said to herself. She ignored the looks of some Gelfling who heard her loud and sudden snicker, and glanced at the endless sky.

"You spoil these children, old friend." She talked to Thra, jokingly mentioning the great weather today. Her tired eyes scanned her every children, happy and bonded with the song of Thra.

They deserved this, she thought.

Their future is brighter than the stars above, she thought.

Then she closed her eyes, listening to her children's voices.

She didn't want to open them. She truly didn't. However, she had no other choice. She counted every star she visited while she was sleeping, just to kill time. But, they also came to an end.

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was a Gelfling. Laying and unmoving, already returned to Thra. After every slow step she took, she saw another. And another.

She recognized one, two, three... Maybe all. Or maybe she didn't. She didn't know.

She wondered, why Thra showed her this vision now. Which didn't mean anything. She huffed, then coughed, trying to silence her pain.

She knew where she was. In which reality, in which possible future she was in. She had this reality as a vision trines ago, and there they were. Her children, poor children...

And she knew what she was supposed to do. Her feet took her to the right direction as if moving without her consent. But that was she. That was Thra. Already decided fate. Too late to return.

One tear dropped from her eye to the bloody soil as she stood beside the corpse of a certain songteller, his eyes are half open as he clutched into his magical firca, like a last hope.

She leaned down and grabbed it. With delicate care, she fully closed his eyes, careful of her crooked nail.

Without looking back, she made her way toward the already decided route again. She wished all of her children, for them to return to Thra safely, as that was all she could do.

Grunting while she walked, scolding Thra for showing her a vision this heartbreaking, for making her cry, off to the UrRu valley she went. With the firca around her neck.

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evarcana · 4 years

Note

Courtiers + Christmas

Sorry, dear anon, it took me ages 😓 well at least I did it before xmas, right?

To avoid the whole discourse about why the bunch of demons and one morally corrupted human are celebrating Christmas, I should say that this is based on the MC inviting the courtiers to celebrate together.

Valdemar🎄😈

Not like they usually pay attention to silly human holidays. But if it is you inviting... “how delightful” - of course Valdemar is coming. The problem is that in their millennia of existence being busy with their research they sort of missed out on what Christmas was about. “MC, don’t give me that look, this is all fairly new”, you don’t even want to what is old for them. But it’s Valdemar so they lock themselves in dungeons and put all their inhuman determination into researching Christmas.

Valdemar’s research is ...advanced. After they excitingly start telling you whether you knew that red in decorations symbolises blood, you decide it’s time to intervene, hand Valdemar list of gifts to buy and encourage them to return to their usual work (who would believe you would ever say it).

They turn to the party/dinner dressed as Santa (or whatever equivalent). Are you shocked? Erm yes... But why are other guests loving it ?! Well they did become sort of xmas expert in less than a week so you guess it’s okay. Expects lots of stories on how Christmas celebrations developed over the last centuries.

Charms your grandma or elderly auntie by being the only person capable of listening about their chronical conditions and actually engaging on the topic. Your little niece/neighbour’s kid loves them too - they expertly removed all those bits of turkey leg they don’t like to eat in less than 5 seconds. Everybody loves them. But Valdemar still spends most of the time telling what a fascinating specimen you are.

When it comes to gift exchange part, you are glad that they only added a few medical books, plague masks and antiseptics to the list, could be worse.., but where is yours present? “You, my little silly duckling, are on the naughty list this year” with this Valdemar gently throws you in their sack grabs you and excuses you both from the party. You try to protest but they only say that they played along for long enough and now it’s their turn to play little game with you. Oh well you can leave early one year, it promises to be worth it.

Valerius 🎁🍷

Every year Valerius receives plenty of invitations to winter holidays parties arranged by the nobles but this is the first time he got invitation to something that personal. Tells you that he needs to check his diary and finally reluctantly agrees only because “there was a rather unfortunate cancellation”. But really in his head he is like “Omg does it mean that I am part of the family now? Cancel all plans NOW.”

Then he learns that you plan to have Christmas dinner/party at your place. The consul of Vesuvia to go to that ...shack?? That’s unthinkable: The party will be in his estate, yes he knows that it’s incredibly generous of him to offer and no you cannot refuse.

And this is when things are getting extra. You know that crazy neighbours competitions whose Christmas lights are brighter and decorations are better? That’s Valerius, although he has nobody to compete with really. The massive xmas tree got delivered from who-knows-where and who-knows-how in 2 days, and there is no red, golden or green decoration item left in stock in entire Vesuvia, oh and some the palace’s best cooks suddenly took a sick leave for a week (no it was Valerius promising them triple wages).

You ask Valerius not to get any expensive presents, otherwise you will feel bad, he did indeed agree that it was reasonable suugestion. Everybody gets presents more expensive than life. The guests surpringly find Valerius a very good host, this might have something to do with those gifts which were definitely extra or with the fact that everybody got merry in like 20 min thanks to all the fancy wine. Valerius is gossip central, argues about politics with your annoying uncle and plays board games with children.

Insists that it would be better if you stay overnight and not travel home late. Falls asleep in chair with drink in hand like an old man. Later that chair somehow migrates to the hallway by the guest bedroom, under the strategically placed mistletoe. Wait, where did red silky robes come from? All planned. Let’s hope that the unfortunate relative of yours is not staying in the same guestwing.

Vlastomil 🎅🏻 🪱

It’s lovely of you to invite him but he is a busy worm man and cannot really leave his children alone. Maybe he can just stop by? “No, MC! Don’t get offended!!”

Then he learns that Christmas is usually about family, does it mean that his children can come as well?? Ugh while you are mumbling something about that worms may not be very comfortable at your place, Vlastomil decides that the Christmas party will be held in his garden so the worms everybody can enjoy it.

Prepare to have a ...thematic Christmas. There is white xmas tree decorated with the shimmery worms and candy canes which have worms wrapped around them. Okay, even you are not the biggest fan of worms you have to admit that the ice sculptures of worms are quite impressive. He even has little nativity scene but with the worms.

Everybody receives crystal tree decoration baubles with live worms inside. Everybody is shocked. Vlastomil explains that it’s only stocking fillers and there are more gifts. (Also crystal baublesare only for transportation, the worms need to be free range, how dare you). The actual gifts are... amazing. Somebody got a scarf that they liked but didn’t have enough money to buy on that day, another person got a album of pin up pictures of snake women even if it was supposed to be a secret interest of theirs and you got that sparkly princess teara you cried for your parents to buy at age 5 but they never did (cmon, x years later, you still like it).

Some little child says that Vlastomil is like Santa with how you he magically read people’s wishes (there there, little one, it’s just the power of gossip), but Vlastomil is vibing: wiggler gets elf outfit from somewhere and you get lots of invitations to “come to sit on Santa’s lap”. Yes you can stay there after all the guests leave (and yes you can keep your sparkly teara on).

Volta 🍪🥛

Was secretly dreaming to be invited since at least October. But is still genuinely surprised when you ask her to come. She asks tonnes of questions: who else is coming, are you sure they would like Volta, what are you going to do, will there be food?

Volta wants to help you with all the preparations. Not like she is super useful but she did dig out from the piles of stuff in her estate and bring you lots of old tree decorations and some nice tableware. She basically spends all your time with you in the build up to Christmas: you decorate the house together, make gingerbread houses (well more like you made one house from the 1000s attempt, they all got eaten before they were actually completed) and pack gifts for everybody.

You warned all the guests that there going to be lots of food this year, and no you finally don’t need to worry about what to do with the leftovers and crying “end me, I am sick of having xmas food for 10 days in a row” because they are not going to be any leftovers. But you didn’t expect Volta to turn up with even more food. “Volta does not want anybody to starve on Christmas!”. She surely eats lots but she is also looking after other people lots, passing them plates with food (just imagine her holding it with both of her tiny hands) and topping up their drinks, she wants everybody to enjoy the dinner.

Everybody at the table is talking of how adorable Volta is, and nobody can even hide tears when Volta presents little hand made gifts that she prepared herself. But Volta humming Christmas carols? How does she even know Christmas carols? This is illegal level of cuteness.

Volta wants to stay to help you to clean up when the dinner is over. It’s quite and it’s only two of you. Oh you might still have some sweet things in the cupboard.

Vulgora🔥🌟

At first super excited to be invited but the next second they ask what is Christmas about and what does it involve. You decorate, eat, chat to people and exchange gifts? That sounds awfully boring to Vulgora. Can they at least smash the tree in the end? What do you mean - NO?!?!

Eager to help too. They need to use their energy somewhere. You are not sure whether it’s the type of help you wanted. You asked them to carry the xmas tree from the market? There are 5 trees in front of the house, one of which is like is almost 10’ tall. You asked them to chop some wood for the fire? Well, there is enough to have a bonfire in the towncentre. But on the positive side, your house is lavishly decorated this year, Vulgora likes the red and golden theme.

Lots of battle stories at the dinner, some of which ...lack xmas spirit a bit. All the gifts are...war themed. Then Vulgora gets bored and wants to fight for the right to cut the turkey/ vegan nut roast, whatever you are having. Oh no. But they can smash nuts with their gauntlets - the guests are impressed and suddenly want more battle stories. On the positive side, it’s definitely not boring this year, Vulgora is load and energetic.

But then suddenly Vulgora suggests you all go outside, when you question them, they say it’s a surprise. It’s hard to believe what you see: they prepared fireworks and sparkle fountains !!! You cannot help but smile watching vulgora excitingly running around setting them all off (but hopefully not setting your house on fire).

You watch firework lighting up the sky with Vulgora hugging you from behind and then..they rugby tackle you to the ground?! Well whether there is snow or not, they want to have a fight. Luckily the fireworks are over and the guests can just...leave you two to it.

#not sure whether it was cuter in my head #the arcana courtiers #the arcana courtiers headcanons #the arcana headcanons #valdemar the arcana #Valdemar #consul valerius #Valerius #vlastomil the arcana #praetor vlastomil #volta the arcana #procurator volta #pontifex vulgora #vulgora the arcana #questor valdemar

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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

Note

Please do a story where autistic max is getting bullied and billy steps in

warnings for ableism and implied child abuse.

Max is fourteen now. She doesn’t need anybody looking after her like she’s some baby or something just because she’s, as her mother had put it when she was refusing this very same notion, special. She can handle herself.

That’s what she believes at least, and definitely what Billy does too, the both of them tired of being babysit and doing the babysitting respectively, but her mother is very adamant on keeping her pearls clutched in one hand and the other tight fisted in any decision or action her daughter makes.

So naturally, because this is the same woman that thinks Max is immature and faking half her symptoms go spit her, she also assumes she’s completely incapable of taking care of herself, whether that’s because she’s disabled or because she’s a faker is another story, so that’s the way things go anyways, with her step brother having to watch her like she’s still seven years old and meeting him for the first time.

Their relationship is on the upswing after things settled in Hawkins, but Max still wants her independence and Billy wants to give it to her, the last thing a seventeen year old boy really want is to watch his little sister like she’s on a play date, so their usual agreement is for Billy to take Max wherever he gets told to take her and just drop her off, finding something else to do in the area until it’s time to pick her up.

That system had yet to fail them, so when Max gets an invite to the arcade literally the day after she gets ungrounded after sneaking out again for the third time since they moved to Hawkins and begs her mother for literal hours to let her go this time, the compromise is that she can go, but only as long as Billy goes with her, and just like usual, he just drops her off at the door with a promise to be back before too late, and drives off to go do something she probably doesn’t want to know the details of.

Her friends are already there, and they all play together for a little bit, but while Max was bargaining for permission and waiting for Billy to get his lecture from both parents before they could even think about leaving for the arcade, Lucas and Mike and Dustin and Will had already been there and playing, so by the time she showed up, it didn’t take long for them to get bored of being there or run out of pocket change.

Max doesn’t like plans changing though, and she came to the arcade to play, so even as the last of the party is getting on their bikes or in their own respective cars to be picked up, she just waves goodbye from the door before turning sharply back to the dig dug cabinet, too set on replacing every high score with her name to just leave on a whim because her friends were.

Similarly, Max also finds it pretty hard to keep track of time. It’s like once she starts doing something she planned to do, she has to finish it, so by the time she’s gotten bored of literally everything there is to play in the place and spent nearly every last quarter she’d been collecting for the weeks she was confined to the house as punishment, it’s already fallen dark outside, the arcade close to closing.

That’s not really a problem in it of itself, she has no curfew anymore now that she’s not off the hook, and anyways that was only ever about punishment, not safety, since her mother said bad things don’t happen in small towns. Billy argued that they do if you’re the right kind of person though, for which he got promptly smacked in the mouth, but Max thinks he’s probably right.

Because she’s autistic and she has a gay older brother, and currently she’s one of only a handful of kids left at the arcade at closing, and that is exactly the problem. Max is alone, at night, in a town that’s still mostly unfamiliar as with the person who was supposed to be watching her nowhere in sight, and she’s being tailed as she goes towards the double door exit by the only other kids there, two boys and a girl all at least a year older than her whose names she’d never really caught.

This wouldn’t be her first run in with this group. She’s just an easy target, and that’s exactly what they’re looking for, and these three had been picking on her practically since she showed her face in the arcade for the first time. Only they’d never really stayed this late, and the extent of their tormenting was typically unoriginal insults thrown from the other side of the room that she was bored of and could ignore pretty easily.

She’d like to think that maybe this wasn’t a bad thing going to happen, just a coincidence that those three were still lurking around. Keith was about to close up the arcade anyways, so they were probably just waiting until it closed to leave too.

Max realizes that definitely isn’t the case though when the second they’re out those glass front doors, the girl roughly snatches her bag off of her shoulder.

Usually she’d leave the bag in Billy’s car when she went out somewhere, but she had enough extra money saved up tonight that she wanted it in a change purse instead of her pocket so she didn’t lose it, and since the change purse was small and easy to misplace and her brain a little bit flighty, she just brought the whole bag.

The whole bag which happened to have everything of importance to her in it, not only her money, but also her notebook, her school id, and all of her stim toys.

By her parents' rules, she wasn’t allowed to stim loudly or in a way they deemed embarrassingly, especially not in public, so she brought toys with her everywhere, and now they were being stolen from her because she was too busy trying to think like Susan, that nothing bad could possibly happen, unless of course she brought it on herself, but that’s just not the case.

And either way, she needed those toys back, the situation at home worsening and leaving behind her favorite behavior therapist during the move and so many other things had made her stress skyrocket, and likewise her meltdowns, so she truly needed those toys to help her.

“Give that back!” Max insists after a pause where she was trying to wrap her mind around what was happening, and tries to snatch the bag back, grabbing the straps and trying to pull it back towards herself when the girl starts rummaging through it.

All that gets her is being shoved roughly into one of the boys, who grabs onto her arm tight enough to leave bruises in the shape of his fingertips on her pale skin, and a taunting sneer of, “Sorry, retard. Finders keepers.”

The girl digs around in her bag, looking for a wallet or a checkbook or something, but Max wasn’t even trusted to take her walkie talkie out of the house, let alone any actual money other than the quarters she and Billy saved up, so other than the now empty coin purse, she was broke.

When all she finds is Max’s things, she drops the bag, making everything she’d disrupted spill out of it, and curses, “What the hell is all this junk?”

Max isn't really listening though, because the minute the bag spilt, the two boys took to picking the things they thought might be of value, and in the case of the things they didn’t, like her magic snake that clicked in just the right way when it moved, they’d drop them again, and literally stomp on them, or snap them in two first.

Her mind is much too focused on watching her toys be broken or stolen, that just she doesn’t hear it when she’s asked a question. She very much feels the consequence though, a slap to the back of the head from the boy who didn’t have a grip on her arm hard enough to make her neck sore and bring tears to her eyes, so she forces herself to tune back into things.

“We asked you a question, dumbass. Why are you carrying around a bag of toys like a baby or somethin’?”

“B-Because I need them so I can stim.” Max answers honestly, trying her damndest not to cry, to prove to them she was not a baby, but it didn’t feel like it was too far off, as she was getting more and more emotionally overwhelmed, also getting closer and closer to a meltdown.

“Stim? What the hell is that?” She hears one of the boys ask, and the other chimes in, “Probably something to do with being retarded.”

The older girl snaps at the boys arguing behind Max, “Does it matter? Let’s just take her money and get the hell out of here.”

They keep arguing, and Max is again past the point of processing really anything that’s going on around her, the arcade with all its lights and noises and crowds was already an overwhelming sensory experience, and now with the other kids shouting at her and the aching bruises that were now forming on her skin, it’s all just too much for her.

It’s for that reason that she doesn’t have enough focus left for it to really click what’s happening other than the kids surrounding her freezing up, and bright lights and loud noises that make her squeeze her eyes shut and cover her ears.

What it is though is Billy, brights on, stopping with the front two wheels of the camaro on the sidewalk, and slamming his door hard enough as he gets out that it echoes off the trees way at the back of the arcade.

Billy’s yelling too, threats to call the police and damnation and all kinds of things that Max is too busy trying to remember how to breathe and pick up everything that had spilled out of her bag to hear, and the bullies end up scampering off once Billy’s voice gets scratchy and angry in that way it gets when he and Neil argue, dropping everything where it was and just bolting.

Max hears Billy sigh and sees his kneel down next to her, his face so much kinder to her than he had looked for those kids who were hurting her, come into her limited line of sight as he kneels down next to her on the sidewalk, which she hadn’t even noticed she had sat down on, and he asks her, “You okay, Max?”

And at first, Max was going to say yes, she’d taken worse than that from teachers who didn’t want stim toys in class and as punishments from her parents, but it scared her, the way that he had asked, because he didn’t call her shitbird or kiddo or brat face, he called her by her name, and she bursts into tears almost immediately after he asks.

She’s still not really in a meltdown, which was exhausting, those emotions needed to come out and they just weren't, but it’s still bad enough Billy has to sit fully down on the sidewalk and wait it out with her before they can get back in the car. He puts his hand high on her chest and makes her sit up straight to keep her breathing under control and lets her rock herself until Max’s heavy sobs eventually slow to a couple of stray tears, and then she nods, a wordless way to tell Billy she was ready to go home.

Before they can leave though, they still have more to talk about, a conversation that they don’t want their parents a part of, and they both know it. Still, the car is silent for a minute, nothing but the sound of Max’s sniffles and the creak of the leather steering wheel cover cracking under the pressure of Billy’s angry grip, fists opening and closing around it.

Max is the first to break it, her voice so weak with residual fear and tears it’s barely audible as she gets her brothers attention, “Billy?”

He sighs through his nose, to try to calm down before he talks to Max more than anything, and lets go of the wheel, knowing that was only making things worse, “What is it, kiddo?”

“Are you going to tell?” She’s doing that thing where she presses her palms together and pushes until her knuckles turn white, very clearly nervous asking, so Billy clarifies, “Do you want me to tell?”

Immediately Max shakes her head no. They both know this little incident could get them back on lockdown, Max because her mother would be worried for her precious, breakable little daughter, and Billy because he was supposed to be there.

Not that Billy gave a shit about saving his own hide at the moment, but if Max didn’t want him to tell and get them in heaps of trouble, he wouldn’t, and that’s exactly what he tells her, “Then no, we’ll keep it between us, but you gotta have an excuse ready for those bruises and scrapes.”

Max shrugs, almost too nonchalant, “I’m a skater, skaters get lots of injuries.”

“Don’t think I like how quick you came up with that.” Billy looks over at her, and Max’s gaze shifts to the window behind him as she responds bluntly, “Yeah, well I learned from the best, didn't I?”

“I guess you did.” Billy sighs, doesn’t like to admit the influence he’s had on Max’s in that way. He wants to lead a good example, be the big brother she needed him to be and instead he was teaching her how to lie to her parents and make excuses for injuries.

Though really, in the case of their parents, he guesses that was exactly the type of brother he needed to be. One who teaches her how to avoid her abusers instead of how to avoid annoying boys at school, and who will help her figure out loopholes to punishments and rules instead of her math homework. Just the thought of that concept makes his chest ache.

He starts the car, noting that the vibrations of the engine through the car help to ease the tension out of Max’s shoulders and revving it a couple more times than necessary, “Let’s just get you home, shitbird.”

#max mayfield #billy hargrove #billy & max #autistic max #ej writer #story by ej!#tw ableism #tw r slur #tw child abuse #thank you anon for the request!! sorry it took a while!#hope this’ll do for what you were looking for!#requests

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fuckyeahisawthat · 4 years

Note

Have you been asked yet to rank Trust eps? Cos I'm asking! But your the criteria for ranking I leave to you to decide.

Ahahahaha I’ll have you know I put way too much thought into this. :-D

Ok so first of all, there is no such thing as a bad episode of Trust. The whole thing is really tightly written, every character and plot thread has a purpose, and even the episodes that I haven’t watched over and over again are important to the overall story. And a lot of the impact of the show comes from things that are cumulative over multiple episodes.

That being said, I do have favorites. Since the definitive ranking of Primo’s outfits has already been taken care of, here is my ranking from least to most favorite based on some nebulous criteria of artistic/narrative effectiveness and emotional impact, my judgement of which is obviously highly subjective and also correct.

Under the cut because this got ummm unbelievably, ridiculously long.

10. The House of Getty (episode 1)

Sorry Danny Boyle and Simon Beaufoy, the pilot is my least favorite episode. Still think it was the wrong choice to open with a flashy (and, I can tell, expensive) sequence showcasing the death of a character we literally never see again. And, look, I’m an impatient viewer. If I don’t get someone to root for/emotionally identify with/otherwise catch my interest early on in a narrative, I’ll tune out. And Old Paul is not only unlikeable--far from a mortal sin in dramatic storytelling--he’s boring. I don’t care about any of his rich people problems, and I’m not the kind of viewer who can be kept engaged just by hating someone and watching them be terrible.

Some of the secondary characters in the Getty household do have interesting plotlines, but we don’t get to learn very much about them in the first episode. And I do think things get interesting once Little Paul shows up (although I maintain that the whole episode is more interesting if we understand what the stakes are for Paul getting the money), but if I had started watching this show with no context I wouldn’t have made it past Old Paul’s pre-coital erotica listening routine.

If this had been anything other than the first episode I might not have ranked it last, but extra penalty points for leading with your least interesting characters.

9. Lone Star (episode 2)

This episode is, I think, saddled by the fact that it has to do a lot of heavy lifting in terms of exposition and setup. It mostly works because Chace is an entertaining narrator, and once we get to Italy with Gail I think things zip along at a pretty good pace. Opens with an attempted rape to show how Bad the Bad Guys are, which is...not my favorite trope.

Once again, I think a lot of the information in this episode would have worked better if episode 3 had been episode 1. (We’d already know who Berto was when Chace meets him; we’d already know about the box of guns in the apartment; we’d know when certain characters are lying.) This whole show runs on the suspense of the audience being the only party who knows what’s going on with all the characters at once; I think trading mystery for suspense here was the wrong move. I also can’t help thinking there was pressure to front-load the well-known American actors in the beginning of the show at the expense of the strongest narrative choices.

Imo the best thing about this episode is the sort of...multiple competing images of Paul that emerge. His mom sees him as an innocent victim who couldn’t possibly have planned any of this. Chace sees him as a spoiled rich kid trying to swindle his granddad. Neither one of them has the complete truth.

Next we get into some episodes that are certainly not bad, but their greatness is more on the level of some bangin’ individual scenes than a whole package.

8. John, Chapter 11 (episode 6)

Again, this isn’t a bad episode. The main reason I put it near the end of the list is that the first time through I got sort of impatient during the first half. We, the audience, by virtue of our extra-textual knowledge, know that Paul can’t be dead, and we spend about half the episode before we know what really happened to him, which felt a bit too long to me.

This episode does have some fantastic individual scenes including: Leo talking Primo down in the farmhouse, Leo and Paul’s conversation about Angelo’s death, Gail being an absolute badass, and the meeting between Salvatore and Old Paul. A lot of these scenes are essential on a thematic level, but I don’t think the episode as a whole is the most streamlined.

7. Consequences (episode 10)

I debated for a while where to put this episode because the overall feeling of 57 Chekov’s guns going off in the space of one episode is SO satisfying, and the resolutions of some of the individual plotlines are delicious. Ultimately I would have liked more space for Paul and Gail and less Old Paul being grumpy about his substitute child museum’s mediocrity (although the scene with the bad reviews is hilarious). Once again I feel like the show creators felt they had to pull the focus back to Old Paul to wrap things up and I just. don’t care.

That being said. The resolution of Primo’s storyline? SO SATISFYING. And tbh I don’t dislike the scenes that exist with Paul and Gail; even the happy scenes have this poignant tone to them. I think they were trying to deal with the fact that his irl story is just...incredibly fucking tragic, and you can see a bit of the strain showing.

6. Kodachrome (episode 7)

I know episode 7 is not one of your personal favorites, but it’s the one where I think jumping between multiple plotlines/sets of characters is used to the most satisfying dramatic effect. It has this sense of dramatic irony that feels like some Shakespearean family tragedy. The whole episode, we are hoping that Paul Jr. will finally do the thing we want him to do, which is stand up to his father. And he does it--but at the absolute worst, most selfish and destructive moment possible.

Paul Jr. may be the literal worst, but I do have compassion for him in the flashbacks, mostly because it seems painfully apparent that no matter what he does, he will never be able to please his father. But he doesn’t seem to realize this, and he keeps trying, even as it’s destroying him and his relationship with his family. Credit to Michael Esper for his performance for making me feel a smidgen of compassion for this bastard.

I think the other thing this episode shows is how both of Paul’s parents keep putting him, a child, into roles and circumstances that he shouldn’t really be in. He’s wandering around through what seem like very much adult environments with his dad and Talitha in Morocco. In the Trust version of events he’s there when Talitha ODs and is the one trying to revive her while his dad is having a breakdown in the corner. Gail seems like the more responsible parent but there’s something about her bringing Paul as her “date” on a night out, and the understanding that this is a thing that happens regularly...to me the disturbing part is not so much bringing a young kid to a party with adults but the unspoken expectation that Little Paul will fill the void of companionship that his father has left empty. (Gettys expecting Little Paul to step in to cover for the failings of his father is a repeated theme, and it even plays into the ear thing. His family has failed to pay the ransom, so this is now a problem he has to solve himself.) Combine this all with Leonardo going, um, excuse me but what the actual fuck is wrong with your family? and I think it makes a very effective episode. And the last couple minutes had me yelling NOOOOOOOO GODDAMMIT because you can see what’s going to happen and you’re just watching it unfolding like a car wreck. Also has one of my hands-down favorite scenes, of Paul and Primo in the car waiting for the ransom.

5. White Car in a Snowstorm (episode 9)

The ~ D R A M A !!! ~ This episode is an opera. I mean this whole show is dramatique but episode 9 really leans into the vivid imagery--that snowy highway in the mountains above the sea, the all-white ransom exchange, Paul clinging to the pole at the shuttered Getty gas station, some Very Serious Mobsters throwing the ransom money around like idiots in a moment where you’re encouraged to be happy along with them.

This is also one of my favorite episodes for Primo and for Primo and Paul’s weird sometimes-alliance. Primo walking away from Salvatore to go tell Paul “they always pay in the end”? Primo and Paul teaming up to argue with Salvatore about why Paul shouldn’t die? Primo being all threateny to the doctor treating Paul because somewhere deep down he is worried (that’s my take and you’ll never convince me otherwise)? Primo dressing up to fake-scab on a postal strike in order to find a misplaced severed ear? All gold.

Fun fact: the letter Gail writes to President Nixon did happen in real life, but as far as I can tell the phone call did not. The real details of who convinced Old Paul to finally pay (some) of the ransom are considerably less cinematic. They’re the same amount of sexist though!

Ok now we are getting to the top tier...

4. That’s All Folks! (episode 4)

This is definitely the episode that took me from “ok this is fun” to “oh holy shit I’m invested now.” It’s the episode where we get introduced to most of the Calabrian characters and their world. It’s also the episode where we start to realize that Primo is not just a fun antagonist but is really a parallel protagonist to Little Paul, with his own set of relationships and motivations that we start to see from his POV. (I’d argue that, with the exception of his very first scene, we’ve mostly seen Primo through other characters’ gaze up until episode 4, and this is the point where we start watching him as like, the character whose pursuit of a goal we’re following over the course of the scene.)

This episode ranks high for capturing so much of the weird mix of tones that makes Trust work. It can be very funny. (I never fail to fuckin lose it when Fifty is on the phone with Gail the first time and when he’s talking to the thoroughly unimpressed newspaper switchboard operator.) It has this weird unexpected intimacy between characters you wouldn’t think would connect with each other. (Primo and Paul, Paul and Angelo; in retrospect the arc of the relationship between Primo and Leo gets started in that scene in Salvatore’s kitchen.) And it has one of the show’s absolute best record-scratch tone shifts when Primo gets the ransom offer. I remember saying “oh FUCK” out loud the first time I watched the end of that episode, when Primo comes back to the house, visibly drunk and clearly furious. We’ve seen him be violent plenty before now in the show, but always in a controlled, calculated way. This is the first time we see his potential for out-of-control rage-fueled violence and he’s terrifying!

3. La Dolce Vita (episode 3)

I stand by my claim that this episode (with a few minor continuity adjustments) should have been the pilot. Can you imagine a title card that’s like “Rome 1973” and then away we go with Paul snorting coke and taking racy photos and jumping on cops and fucking his girlfriend in what is definitely not proper museum etiquette, and then the smash cut to Primo intimidating and robbing and murdering people? And that’s the opening of the whole show? And you’re like how are these characters connected and then they meet each other and it’s the fucking sunflower field scene??

Anyway aside from the fact that I think knowing the information in this episode would have made episodes 1 and 2 more interesting...it’s just a great fucking episode. It’s kinetic and propulsive and funny and tense and violent and features Primo’s sniper skills and his ass in those cornflower blue trousers. I rest my case.

2. Silenzio (episode 5)

I’ll be honest, I went back and forth on the top two a bunch. Silenzio is definitely my personal favorite episode, and I’d argue that it’s the best written, in terms of what it accomplishes narratively, which is to keep you emotionally invested in both Paul and Angelo trying to escape with their lives, and Primo and Leonardo hunting them down. That’s so fucking hard!! And yes some of it is great acting but it starts from the foundation of the writing. It’s just such a perfect little self-contained horror movie, and it has this profound sense of fatalism to it, because you know from the beginning (if only by virtue of only being halfway through the series) that Paul is not going to escape, and you sort of know that there is only one way this will end for Angelo. And yet they escape by the skin of their teeth so! many! times!

It’s also the episode where you see how much power the ‘Ndrangheta has over people’s lives in this community: Salvatore is like God, calling his servants to him with the church bells. Combine that with the visuals of two characters running for their lives mostly on foot through this unforgiving landscape, and you really get the sense of this environment as a harsh place where most people have a very constrained set of choices, and the claustrophobia of that. You get the sense in this episode that everyone is trapped in these expectations of violence and duty and honor. Angelo did what anyone with compassion would do, and saved Paul from what seemed like certain death, and he’s doomed for it. At the same time Primo is doing exactly what anyone would expect him to do in response to a subordinate who disobeyed him. In some ways the end of the episode feels inevitable, unsurprising, and yet they do SUCH a good job of winding up the tension until the literal last seconds of the episode, and then releasing it with a big dramatic bang. It’s so good!!

1. In the Name of the Father (episode 8)

Ok I’ll be honest the ONLY reason In the Name of the Father edged out Silenzio for the top spot is that it is really clear they pulled out all the stops in terms of making this episode feel extra heightened in a show where everything is already heightened. Like, the cinematography is different? They still use handheld a lot but I swear there are more still shots and more extreme, editorial camera angles like that shot of Francesco looking upward in church where the camera is looking down from above him. I can’t tell if they actually tweaked the color grading or if the bright white and blood red just stand out against the Calabrian color palette which is mostly earth tones, browns and greens and blues.

There are just. So many layers to this episode. The imagery! The literal sacrificial lamb at the beginning, Francesco being guided by Leonardo through an act of violence against an animal, something that I’m sure they don’t even see as violence but just part of farm life, part of survival and in this case part of a celebration, but something that fathers teach their sons how to do as part of becoming a man in this world. Paul as the metaphorical sacrificial lamb later, drawing parallels to Jesus (the lamb of God), Isaac (a father sacrificing his son), any number of martyred saints, pick your Catholic imagery. The blood of the lamb on the tree stump and Paul’s blood on the stone. The communion wafer (the body and blood of Christ) and Francesco at the end with Paul’s blood and a literal piece of his body held in his hands the same way.

And then there is like, the suspense of watching everyone marking time through the steps of this community ritual that’s supposed to be a joyful, communal celebration, while we know that there is a secret ticking away under the surface. The slow unfolding of the lie told to one person spreading to everyone in the village, and then the knowledge that Salvatore knows spreading to all the people who’ll be in trouble for that. The relationship arcs between the main Calabrian characters...not resolving, but sliding into place for the final act. Primo finally being done with Salvatore. Primo and Leo’s alliance being cemented and Leo physically stepping between Primo and Salvatore, to protect Primo. (No one ever protects Primo!! Still not over it!!!!) The confirmation celebration as a mirror of the Getty party in episode 1, the parallels drawn between the 3 Pauls and Salvatore-Primo-Francesco and how Primo reacts to being passed over as heir vs. how Paul Jr. reacts. Little Paul having two whole minutes of screen time and managing to break your heart with them. Regina! Just...Regina’s whole everything. The music going all-instrumental for an episode and having this haunting, dreamlike but still tense quality to it. And the fact that we never cut away from Calabria to another plotline gives the whole episode this hypnotic, all-encompassing quality. It’s just. SO GOOD!!!!

#fadagaski #asks answered #trust fx #long post #so so long omg #i can't believe how long i spent writing this but HERE IT IS #trust alternate watch order

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bestworstcase · 4 years

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We all know that the Gothel twist was terrible and was only there for the sake of having a twist, but if it absolutely have been done, how should it had happened to make it better narratively?

so. i spent a lot of time kind of mulling over and autopsying s3 and my personal conclusion about what went wrong is that tts hamstrung itself with poor narrative structure. and this is going to be one of those posts where i lead with definitions of the terminology i’m going to use, for the sake of clarity and to avoid any misunderstanding.

to whit:

story is the sum total of every element of a narrative: character, plot, setting, theme, and structure.

character is, of course, the people in the story. it’s “who?”

plot is the events that happen in a story. it’s “what?”

setting is the time and place of the story. it’s “where?” and “when?”

theme is what the story is *about.* it’s “why?”

and then there’s narrative structure, which i think is a little harder to grasp because it’s much more invisible than the other things. but it’s the framework of the story, or the scaffolding. it’s “how?” — how are the characters rendered? how is the setting created? how are the events of the plot strung together along the throughline? how is the story built?

now… in my opinion, character is the single most important element of a story; compelling characters can salvage an otherwise mediocre story, and nothing kills a story faster than uninteresting characters.

but the one thing good characters can’t ultimately compensate for is poor structure. if the construction is shoddy, so to speak, sooner or later, the roof is gonna leak. right? and we can see this happen in tts: s1 and s2 are solid, and then bam! we hit s3 and it’s a mess of bizarre pacing and dropped characters, the feelings and motivations of key players get all wonky, the plot loses focus, and things increasingly feel like they’re happening by authorial fiat. the weak structure of the narrative has failed, and it dragged the entire story down with it.

and we can look back in retrospect and see that, yeah, all of these problems existed before; tts always had odd pacing, always had an issue with maintenance of the supporting cast, always relied more on convenience than a narrative really should. but these things didn’t hit a critical mass until s3.

so what does this have to do with gothel? well,

in and of itself, “gothel is cassandra’s mother!” is not a terrible plot twist. the problem with it is a problem of execution, which is to say, the flaw is in the structure, not the plot.

#1: set-up

plot twists are kind of difficult to pull off well, because you don’t want to blindside people, but you also don’t want to tip your hand too soon. you want to surprise, or maybe even shock—but you don’t want your audience to go, “wait, WHAT? that makes no sense!”

do you remember the whole “ricky’s quest” thing that went on in s2? we were told that there was an important piece of foreshadowing somewhere in s1 or s2 that no one had picked up on yet and there was this whole thing of people trying to figure out what it was, and then… rapunzel’s return aired, and ricky revealed that the answer was “cassandra briefly glances into the shattered mirror in rapunzel’s tower.”

and that, + the fact that we know cass is adopted and doesn’t remember her birth parents, + vague visual similarities, is the entirety of the s1-s2 foreshadowing for cassandra being gothel’s daughter.

which isn’t nothing, i’ll grant you, but for something as major as the gothel twist, for something that profoundly changes the worldview and motivations of one of the main characters to such a degree that she completely changes sides because of it, it might as well be nothing.

gothel is afforded zero narrative importance in s1-s2. rapunzel has one nightmare about her, and some lingering trauma connected to the tower that is explored, and of course tromus briefly uses her image to try to control rapunzel in rapunzeltopia. but gothel herself is a non-entity until she abruptly and without warning becomes the emotional lynchpin of the entire conflict in s3. that’s jarring.

cassandra is a complex character whose apparent motivations for turning against rapunzel are meticulously built up over the course of s2… only for s3 to pull a bait-and-switch, sweep all of that set-up under the rug, and replace it with cassandra’s messed up feelings about gothel’s abandonment. even her ruined hand never gets mentioned again—not by her, not by zhan tiri, not by rapunzel, not by anyone. that’s jarring, too.

to use my own work as a point of comparison here, the bitter snow equivalent of the gothel reveal is cassandra finding out that sirin is her aunt and her parents were innocent. like the gothel twist, learning that information profoundly changes how cassandra sees herself and the world, and it’s intended to be a big shock… but unlike the gothel twist, i did a lot of setting up for it:

1: sirin has real narrative importance in the first half of the story, pre-reveal. the fic opens with her, her involvement with the separatists is established early, etc.

2: pieces of cassandra’s backstory are threaded through the first half of the story. by the time we hit the reveal, it’s been established that cass is saporian, that her parents were executed for treason, that this treason involved selling poisoned crops and causing outbreaks of a deadly sickness.

3: there are many demonstrations of anti-saporian discrimination and prejudice in the first half of the story: the way cass sees herself and the alienation she feels from the rest of corona, past incidents where she was targeted for being saporian, basically every time gilbert opens his mouth, what happened to caine’s dad.

4: cassandra discovers evidence of the harsh, unjust nature of the crackdown and realizes that at least some of what she’s been taught about coronan law enforcement and recent history is inaccurate… thus planting the seed, for the readers if not for cass herself, that other things might be false too.

5: caine points out that cass is the reason the separatists don’t let parents join up, and though she doesn’t elaborate on that, it’s because cass is proof that corona will steal saporian children if their parents are accused of treason.

and 6: everything sirin says to cass in chapter 14 is wrapped up in her being painfully, painfully aware that a) cass is her niece and b) probably doesn’t know the whole story—while also trying to stick to the plan. so… while she doesn’t spill the beans there, she knows who cass is, she stops andrew from hurting her, she makes a point of not acknowledging the legitimacy of cassandra’s adoption, and obliquely suggests that sir peter is a murderer… and while she tries to stop cass from interfering with what they’re doing, she doesn’t hurt her, even though she very much could.

so… in chapter 15, when sirin comes out with “actually, the blight was a natural disaster no one anticipated and saporians got sick and died too, your parents were just scapegoats because corona wanted someone to blame, and oh, by the way, you’re my niece,” it’s a shock but not one that comes entirely out of left field. cassandra’s parents being innocent victims of an overzealous and prejudiced justice system is a logical extension of all the stuff that has already been set up, and sirin being cass’s aunt helps to clarify motivations that were previously opaque (such as: why does sirin despise corona so much, why didn’t she just kill cass, etc).

and because all of this stuff is given so much attention in the first half of the story, the way it snaps cassandra’s worldview in half and causes such a massive reorienting of her goals and loyalties feels natural. because it already mattered a great deal to her, and it related to the doubts she was already experiencing.

which like, that’s the key. setting up a big plot twist isn’t about establishing one basic fact (“cass is adopted”) and tossing in one instance of symbolic foreshadowing (the mirror thing) and nothing else, over the course of two whole seasons of a tv show. it is about priming the audience to be ready to accept the reveal.

how could tts have done this with the gothel reveal? here’s some ideas:

1: give gothel a greater presence in the narrative. the simplest way to do this would be to really lean in to how fucked up rapunzel is because of her. more nightmares, more overt moments where we see rapunzel still being haunted by her memory. alternatively, lean more into the fact that gothel was a disciple of zhan tiri.

2: give cassandra’s adoption, and the question of her birth parents, even a teeny tiny glimmer of interest. specifically, let “dad found me after my parents abandoned me” be the only thing cass knows about her adoption, and let that hurt her. she doesn’t even have to be curious about who her birth parents were—just have that pain of abandonment more present in the first two seasons.

3: imply the captain knows more about cassandra’s origins than he lets on.

4: you know the parallel in RATGT where rapunzel screams at cass the way gothel screamed at rapunzel? more of that. like, how delicious would it be if there were many little instances in s1-s2 of rapunzel lashing out at cass with behaviors she obviously subconsciously learned from gothel, only for s3 to pull the sucker punch of cassandra being gothel’s daughter? like! imagine how that could so EASILY make cassandra recontextualize her entire relationship with rapunzel by linking rapunzel’s toxic behaviors with gothel’s abuse and abandonment in her mind? and then in s3 you can really dig into rapunzel interrogating her own behaviors and struggling to break the cycle of abuse.

5: if gothel being a former disciple of zhan tiri is narratively important, it can go hand-in-hand with zhan tiri and the other disciples more overtly targeting cass, specifically. even if we don’t know why until the reveal.

i’ve seen a couple posts from other folks discussing how to “fix” the gothel twist, and many of them involve cass either knowing from the start or finding out much earlier, but while that could work, i don’t think it’s necessary. it’s all about the set up. it’s all about constructing the story in such a way that the audience goes “OH!” instead of “WHAT?!” when the reveal happens, and the specific timing of the reveal doesn’t really… matter.

#2: execution

surprising absolutely no one, i’m going to talk about zhan tiri now.

based on what chris has said in various interviews, my understanding is this: originally, cass was originally supposed to be a secret antagonist all along and know about her parentage right out of the gate. her characterization softened early on in the process, her knowing about gothel got dropped, and suddenly the creators needed a way for her to learn that gothel was her mom, and thus zhan tiri entered the narrative.

she is a plot device whose whole purpose is to tell cass “gothel was your mom and abandoned you for rapunzel,” and then fuel her downward spiral. the rest of her character exists in service of that, full stop.

which… like the gothel reveal, having a character whose primary function is to be a plot device isn’t a problem in and of itself. however. “ancient evil demonic sorceress with deep ties to the magical lore of the setting and an entrenched hatred for team hero, whose MO is manipulating people” is a terrible character archetype to use as this kind of plot device, because that kind of character needs to have an agenda in order to function, and as soon as you give them an agenda they develop a gravitational pull on the rest of the story, especially if they’re directly involved with a main character.

and if you’re willing to roll with that gravitational pull, it can be fine. but if you’re not… you get tts s3.

chris has pretty much spelled this out in interviews. he said at one point that they debated multiple potential motives for zhan tiri… but found that anything more complex than “wants the drops and to burn corona to the ground, because reasons” sucked oxygen away from the cass vs raps conflict and eventual reconciliation, which… yeah. so they gave zhan tiri the cardboard motives and didn’t really do anything with her other than trotting her out to give cass a good shove in whatever direction the plot needed cass to fall in every so often.

that zhan tiri is a compelling character in s3 at all is a testament to the strength of her VA and the sheer potential of her established lore, in combination with the fact that she and cassandra are off screen enough to demand that the audience fill in a lot of gaps. but in, like, the actual text, she has all the complex personality of a piece of damp tissue paper and she is, for all intents and purposes, literally just Cassandra’s Brain. every decision, every single decision cass makes in s3 is because of zhan tiri. why take the moonstone? zhan tiri tells her to. why is she so mad at rapunzel? zhan tiri made her that way. why does she attack rapunzel? zhan tiri convinced her she had to. why does she go to gothel’s cabin in TOTS? zhan tiri tipped her off that rapunzel would be there. why does her fragile truce with rapunzel fall apart at the end of TOTS? zhan tiri interfered. why does she try to reconcile again in OAH? she found out zhan tiri was… zhan tiri. why does that reconciliation fail? zhan tiri. why does cass ultimately redeem herself? because zhan tiri stabs her in the back first.

*deep breath*

this is what happens when you troubleshoot a broken narrative with plot devices instead of opening it up to fix whatever is wrong with the underlying structure. in this case, cassandra not knowing about gothel from the get go broke her planned villain arc… and the creators applied zhan tiri like a bandaid, molding this new character into someone who could railroad cass down the preexisting plan for her villain arc.

what needed to happen instead was a wholesale reexamination and reconfiguration of cassandra’s villain arc, her reasons for going down that path, and her reasons for coming back. even if finding out the truth about gothel was still the trigger for it, it’s ultimately not about gothel anymore. gothel is just the last straw.

and in order to work with the characters as-established in s1-s2, the events of s3 would need to be framed that way. if, after all the shit she goes through in s2, cass met zhan tiri, learned that gothel was her mom and abandoned her for rapunzel, and finally just snapped and went after the moonstone because fuck this, fuck you, and then zhan tiri came in with the compassion and emotional validation and the “your mother treated you as a servant and then discarded you for something she thought was better, and so did rapunzel, didn’t she? but i see you, i believe in you, i am your friend, and we can help each other,” and cass bought that because she’s desperate for emotional support and kindness and fuck it, she’s on team demon now, only for her conscience to eat away at her until she couldn��t take it anymore and broke away from zhan tiri for good… then it works, full stop.

like, you don’t have to change a single plot event for the gothel twist to work. you just have to string those plot events along an emotional throughline that makes sense and feels connected to what happened in s1-s2. you can’t use zhan tiri to graft the s3 arc of evil-all-along proto-cass onto canon s1-s2 and call it a day because that doesn’t work! you have to write for the characters you have, not their early planning-stages iterations. if you make a decision early on that breaks your original plan, you have to commit to redoing the whole plan.

and if you do that, if you fix the underlying structure, you don’t need a character whose sole purpose is to railroad another character down a predetermined path that no longer fits her characterization; cass and zhan tiri can instead both be characters, acting according to their motivations and goals, and not puppets pantomiming the ghost of a broken plan.

(you do still have to accept that zhan tiri will pull focus away from the cass+rapunzel friendship, though. them’s the breaks. don’t use zhan tiris if you’re not willing to let them gobble up the spotlight a bit.)

TL;DR: to fix the gothel twist, set it up better in s1-s2 by making the question of cassandra’s parentage, or abandonment by her parentage, important to the narrative at all, or else by focusing more closely on gothel being a disciple of zhan tiri; then execute the s3 villain arc in a way that makes sense for canon cass and what she experiences in s1-s2, rather than using zhan tiri to railroad her down the path evil-all-along proto-cass was supposed to take.

the problem is a structural one so at the end of the day the solution is to fix the structure. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#rta #thank u anon its been a hot minute since i ranted about sTrUcTuRe #Anonymous

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lovelylogans · 4 years

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so idk if requests are still open for wyliwf but i’m a sucker for dee in aus and it seems like he gets a bit of redemption before the most recent oneshot. If you feel up to it, i’d love to read something on that

debutante

part of the wyliwf verse.

chapter one | next chapter

notes: this ask was sent right after odds are! look, i know i’m overlooking several of the rules of the debutante ball, but honestly, so did gilmore girls, so. source material, here. i hope this can serve as a distraction for some of you today—please go out and vote if you are able and if you haven’t already! also happy birthday logan!!!

A debutante or deb (from French: débutante, “female beginner”) is a young woman of aristocratic or upper-class family background who has reached maturity and, as a new adult, comes out into society at a formal “debut” or possibly debutante ball. Originally, the term meant the woman was old enough to be married, and part of the purpose of her coming out was to display her to eligible bachelors and their families with a view to marriage within a select circle.

or: logan wants to dismantle the cis-heteronormative patriarchy with his bare hands and teeth if necessary, roman delights in dresses, virgil fucking hates tuxedos, patton’s really proud of his son, and dee thinks those sanders’ might not be so terrible after all.

⁂

“i need a dress.”

patton blinks, glancing up from the kitchen table where he’s organizing his notes for midterms for his business degree. bright side, last set of midterms patton would ever have to take! dark side, midterms. “just, like, generally, or…?”

the slight attempt at a joke dies when he catches the look on logan’s face—clenched jaw, eyes flashing—and he sets down his papers.

“i’m coming out,” logan continues.

“kiddo, you did that when you were about eight,” patton points out. “remember? i said i loved you and i was proud of you and i’m so glad that you trusted me enough to share that moment with you and thank you for telling me, and we went and got ice cream at lucy’s, and then you tried to use the whole sentimental thing to get me to ask out virgil because you were supposed to have a positive gay role model in your life, as if us being separately gay wasn’t enough in this town whose main tourist attraction is its rich history, from the times of our founding fathers to the times of pride.”

patton’s quoting the most recent town brochure, here.

“no, dad,” logan says, and arches his eyebrows significantly. “i’m coming out.”

the double-meaning clicks in his head.

“no,” patton says, hushed—he isn’t sure if it’s in awe or horror. “like—like, debutante coming out? or, um, wait, like—like—?”

“the male equivalent is a beautillion, and no, i mean like debutante coming out,” logan says.

patton pauses, waiting, but logan says nothing, until patton says, “kiddo, either your attempts at trying to push this information into my brain via telepathy aren’t working or my brain’s too fried from midterms to catch the implications of what you’re saying, i’m gonna need more details than that.”

logan drops into the other seat at the kitchen table, huffing out a slow breath.

“you remember dee.”

“your former rival turned weird allies that are still sometimes rivals, yes,” patton says.

“who came over to our house once.”

“for the gsa poster-making thing?” patton says.

“right,” logan says, and arches his brows, waiting for patton to catch on.

“when… he mentioned he was also trans?” patton elaborates.

“right,” logan says. “i think dee’s parents are trying to out him, because they informed him of their intentions to sign him up for the daughters of the american revolution debutante ball.”

a cold feeling crawls uncomfortably in his stomach.

presenting him to society. a debutante ball. undeniably, harshly female. one of the main benefits of the timing of patton’s coming out had been so he wouldn’t have been a debutante—the very concept of doing that had given him this exact same cold, crawling feeling.

“dee gave me about five separate explanations as to why, of course, so i don’t particularly know why they’re choosing to out him now,” logan says briskly, “but i have a plan as to how that’s not going to happen.”

“you’re… going to be a debutante,” patton says slowly.

“well,” logan says, and fishes out a piece of paper from his backpack. “hopefully, not just me.”

FIGHT THE PATRIARCHY, the title screams in huge letters, then subtitled with Become a debutante or an escort today! Why should women be the only ones who have to go through this? Be a better feminist and put on a dress, if you’re a boy, or a tux, if you’re a girl, and if you fall outside of the gender binary, the choice of debutante or escort is up to you. Contact Logan Sanders for more details. there’s two copies—one blank, and one with an already modest list of names. which is probably to be expected, debutante balls were a big deal at chilton, except the usual names that would be listed under escorts are listed under debutantes, and vice versa.

“dermot, tristan, brad, henry, roger,” patton reads off, slow, and then he looks up at logan. “and madeline, lem, lisa, summer, and ivy.”

“well, it’s hardly fair that girls have to go through all this primping and glamming up just to be seen as presentable to society,” logan says briskly. “boys should come out into society, too.”

“which is your cover story,” patton says slowly, putting it together. that cold, uncomfortable feeling is turning into a warm glow that’s turning up the corners of his mouth.

“right,” logan says. “if a group of boys will show up in pretty white dresses, all very serious about their intentions of being presented to society, with their escorts of girls in tuxes, then—”

“then everyone will think dee is part of the ploy.”

“exactly,” logan says. “his secret is kept under wraps and no one has to know.”

patton leans abruptly over the table to wrap logan up in a hug.

“hey,” logan complains, but patton just squeezes a little tighter.

“you are,” he says, choked up, “such an amazing friend, kiddo.”

it sounds like something he and christopher might have done as a prank back in the day—christopher in the dress, patton in the tux—but this—this—

patton lets go of him, grinning hugely. “i am so proud of you.”

“so you’re okay with it?”

“okay with it?!” patton laughs. “you’re protecting your friend from getting outed in a way that would be very embarrassing and schooling high society about how weird it is that they still present their daughters like they’re cattle for purchase! of course i’m okay with it!”

“so, dress?” logan asks, and honestly, patton’s just about ready to grab his wallet and haul logan to the finest dress store he can find, before logan continues, “if grandma still has it, we could probably steal the one she was intending to use for you from the cellar.”

that cold feeling is back. “ah.”

logan blinks. “what?”

patton sits back down. “i forgot about your grandparents.”

“what about—?”

patton chews at his lip. “mom’s a part of the daughters of the american revolution.”

“why does that matter?” logan says, and patton sighs.

“oh, you know by now that things work differently in grandma’s world than ours,” patton says. “just—i definitely support your right to do this, but just… know that if a fight comes out of this, i will not regret it or back down, okay? i’m always on your team.”

“well, i know that,” logan says, like it’s obvious, which, fair, it probably is, or at least patton hopes so, it’s his job as a dad to be on his kid’s side. “i’ll bring it up at dinner on friday, we’ll see how it goes over then. they’re less likely to yell at me.”

“it’ll just be us and grandma, your grandpa’s in… i think copenhagen?” patton says, considering, and waves a hand. “some historical city across an ocean, anyway, and virgil’s working.”

virgil is almost always working on friday nights. it’s only partly because he owns the diner, but it’s also because, well. friday night dinners. patton doesn’t blame him for avoiding them—even with the buffer of a couple months, it’s not exactly an easy relationship between him and patton’s parents.

“well, that’ll be something,” logan says briskly, then stands. “i’m going to go put one of these sheets on sideshire high’s bulletin board.”

“good call, a ton of kids here would want to crush heteronormativity and an excuse to wear a pretty dress slash tux,” patton says. “i’m betting you’re gonna ask roman?”

logan looks like he’s trying not to flush, and he adjusts his chilton jacket. “he’s the one letting me in. he’s still there for cheer practice.”

“ahhh,” patton says, only a little teasing. “well, let me know what your plans for the afternoon are, it’ll probably be virgil’s for dinner tonight, ‘cause,” and he lifts up a sheaf of his papers for emphasis.

“isn’t it always?” logan points out, and, with that, he departs.

“my little baby, off to destroy people!” patton calls teasingly after him, grinning, so proud he feels like he’s about to burst.

“i’m destroying the cis-heteronormative patriarchy!” logan calls, and then there’s the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut.

patton’s going to take him on a trip to bookstore and he’s buying him everything he wants.

⁂

“granmè, i’m home!” dee calls, dropping his backpack at the door and hanging his bowler hat on the coat rack.

“hello, mister slange.”

“nanny,” dee acknowledges. he’d address her by her first name, if he knew it. he admires that about her; it’s something they share.

nanny soledad used to be his nanny, back when he’d needed such things; she’s from the dominican republic, which his parents thought was “close enough” to being haitian that it would be enough to help him adjust. which is accurate enough geographically, but not culturally. honestly, he’s surprised his parents even bothered to look as far as geographically.

but now he is too old for such things, and his grandmother’s memory problems are growing more and more apparent by the day, so nanny had made the transition from the ancestral slange manor to the slange family townhome, where his grandmother evelyn lives.

the townhome is a bit run-down, in comparison with the manor; no multiple wings, no murals on the ceilings, no precisely selected statues in the alcoves. instead, the townhome is a conglomeration of furniture collected by the family over the years; all of it high-quality, expensive, but almost none of it matching, with persian rugs thrown down over almost every hardwood surface, armchairs cluttering the spare corners, paintings hanging dilapidated with no rhyme or reason to their collection. it feels a bit squashed and claustrophobic, sometimes, with its dark woods and narrow hallways and secluded rooms, in comparison to the aggressively, purposefully airy nature of the manor with its open floor plan and silver accents and crisp, neutral colors.

the townhome is closer to chilton, so dee had reasoned to his parents that there was no reason to keep using too much gas to have him make the commute home every night. his parents, frankly just happy to have him out of their hair, had acquiesced swiftly.

well. they tended to like him out of their lives, until they needed him for something. until he needed to act like a doll. dee pushes those thoughts away; he’s thought about it quite enough today.

so dee and his snakes and his clothes were stationed in one guest bedroom, nanny and martha in the others, and dee would return to the ancestral home on weekends and long breaks. it would stay that way for as long as he and nanny could get away with it.

especially with the latest developments. dee suppresses a shudder at the way he’d handled himself earlier in the day, and instead turns his attention to nanny.

“where is she?”

“your grandmother’s in the greenhouse,” nanny says, then, seeing the look on his face, “not gardening, you know i would be supervising if she were.”

“the azaleas are in bloom,” dee acknowledges. “she does like the azaleas.”

“that she does,” nanny says, and falls into step beside him. “i’ve had martha gather some cuttings sent up to her room. bertie is out running errands, but he should be back in time for supper. ingrid will be in later for dinner and should be sticking to the menu, unless you have other requests. it’s lobster linguine tonight.”

“all fine,” dee says, and winces to himself at how distracted he sounds. he needs to stop thinking about it. he needs to focus on the now. the present. thinking about his parents’ ultimatum looming over his head would do no good right now.

“now, she’s taken her medicine for the afternoon and requested some tea. would you like some as well, perhaps a snack?”

“whatever she’s requested will suffice,” dee says. “thank you, nanny.”

nanny nods, and departs for the kitchen. dee continues through the house, to the backdoor, and into the greenhouse.

greenhouse is a bit of an exaggeration. it’s really more of a solarium that’s been overcrowded with pots and planters, in addition to the gardens outside. there’s floor-to-ceiling windows, and the room is overwhelmed with wicker furniture. it’s calming, in here; to say that there’s a lot of earth tones would be an understatement, and the light filters in gold and tangibly warm.

it’s the most open-air part of the house, but less like the manor; if the manor was like some renaissance painter’s imagination of heaven, all pearly white clouds and soft pastels, this was an impressionist painting’s portrait of a landscape—plants and woods and life, verdant and vibrant and vivid.

the greenhouse is also the warmest room in the house, which he’s sure is part of why it’s his grandmother’s favorite. dee’s already moving to shed his capelet and gloves; if he doesn’t, he’ll get disgustingly sweaty.

his grandmother is sitting in her favored rocking chair, seemingly not having heard him open the door. her reading glasses are perched on her nose, about to slip off, and she’s deeply absorbed in her book.

“hello, granmè,” he says in french.

that makes her look up, and she smiles at him, reaching out her hand.

“hello, my sweet,” she says warmly, and he reaches out and squeezes her hand carefully—he has an irrational fear that one day, if he forgets his strength, if he squeezes too hard, he’ll snap the delicate little bones in her frail hand easier than blinking. she switches to french. “did you have fun at school?”

he scowls, settling in the rocking chair beside hers, separate by an end table that’s teeming with books. “it’s school, grand-mère.”

“that doesn’t mean you can’t have fun,” she says. “did you learn anything interesting, at least?”

that logan sanders is just as unsurprisingly terrible at comfort that one would expect?

instead, he says, “we’re supposed to start reading sula for homework today.”

she brightens, as he knew she would—his grandmother adores all things toni morrison—and they begin talking about books, and other works by toni morrison, and their favorite parts of said books, which eats up the better part of the fifteen minutes it takes nanny to deliver the tea tray to the greenhouse.

“thank you, nanny,” evelyn says, still in french. nanny nods—she’s fluent in spanish and portuguese and english, not quite in french, but she knows enough to get by in a conversation—and withdraws from the room without a word.

dee swiftly takes the teapot before his grandmother can attempt to pour it herself—her plus a heavy pot of near-boiling water was a hospital visit waiting to happen—and switches to english, saying, “would you mind plating some of the battenburg for me, granmè?”

“as long as you have a crumpet,” she says. “you’re a growing boy, noodle.”

“yes, yes, fine,” he sighs, pretending to be put-upon at both the pet name and the insistence of somewhat healthy eating. “a crumpet too, then.”

he fixes her cup as she likes it—two sugars, a splash of cream—and trades her teacup and saucer for a plate of snacks before he works on making his own tea and she arranges her own plate. he notices that she has reached for none of the savory options, instead opting entirely for sweets.

dee hides his smirk in his tea.

they continue chit-chatting about all kinds of things as they work their way slowly through tea, a holdover from his english grandfather. even though grand-mère’s french, she’s too fond of teacakes and snacking in general to really do away with it, even nearly two decades after his passing. they talk about the azaleas (yes, they look exceptional this year) running the household (bertie was going to visit his grandchildren next week, yes he’d make sure bertie would pass on her hellos, yes he’ll manage fine without him, it’s not like nanny and martha and ingrid won’t be here) and his academics (yes, he thinks the semester’s going well.)

they talk about everything except the thing that’s weighing most heavily on his mind.

she might not know. she might not even remember.

dee pushes that thought away. once they’ve finished their tea, he excuses himself to do his homework, leaving her to her book and her admiration of the lilies, and nanny smoothly institutes herself in his chair, with the guise of a magazine to make it seem like she wasn’t supervising his grandmother.

dee picks up his capelet, gloves, and backpack on his way up to his room. back at the manor, he has a whole wing, but here he just has his room. it suffices.

he sits on the bed, briefly, in sight of the full-length, gilt-edged mirror, to sweep the capelet back around his shoulders and ensure that it’s sitting on him properly; he could probably get away with taking off his binder, as he’s home and they aren’t expecting visitors, except he very much does not want to do that right now. he pulls on his gloves, covering his vitiligo-ridden left hand first; his dermatologist swears his particular case is segmental, which typically doesn’t expand with time, but it feels like it has been.

but then again, it is just his left side affected. so. perhaps the woman who’d been to school for twelve years and was a specialist in his particular condition was right.

dee toes off his loafers, debating crossing the room and entering his walk-in closet to store them properly on the shoe rack, but decides against it—the singular item of clutter makes his room seem a little more lived-in.

it’s not that he doesn’t like his room here; they hired decorators to redo it back when his grandmother moved in and he started spending more time here, years ago, so the walls are a subtle shade of gold, with an accent wall plastered with an art-deco black-and-gold theme was behind his bed. his bed is massive and plush. everywhere he looks, things are black, gold, and white, in that order of frequency.

it’s just not very… well. lived-in.

his room at the manor house is worse, though. just about the only thing he likes there is the aesthetic of the gold. the chandelier and tufted wall and personal tv and absurdist decor that screamed “this is too expensive for you to even look at!” he could do without.

he might have to look at it all the more, soon. he’s dreading it.

“homework,” he reminds himself, “homework.”

he makes a beeline for his desk, where his snakes are settled in their vivarium, all lazily sunning themselves under the heat lamp, tangled together in a loose pile.

“layabouts, the lot of you,” dee informs them. luke, leia, and han do not seem to care.

dee settles at his desk, getting out his agenda, his books, and his notebooks. he gets out his favorite pen and sits, ready to get started on his to-do list for the day.

and that’s where his brain stops focusing on school, and starts focusing on what happened at school.

there are several locations in chilton that seem like they were designed specifically for crying.

the most popular ones are the almost-always abandoned bathrooms near the journalism lab were a good bet for most, with the stress of deadlines; and, considering they tended to share with the chemistry and biology labs, that was tripled, and therefore the most commonly-used choice. it wasn’t uncommon for med-school-aiming seniors to duck out around finals week and return after a carefully scheduled five-minute crying break, red-rimmed around the eyes. most were polite enough not to mention it to their faces.

then there was the kiln room; considering it was mostly empty, all bare walls and concrete, excepting for the periods of time where there were ceramics classes or art club, of course, it went mostly empty, and tended to be the discerning choice for arts-inclined students.

and then there was the option that he had opted for today; steal into the senior’s lounge, near the rear exit of the school, and hunker up into the most hidden corner, giving himself until the bell for the next class bell rings to have his breakdown where no one, not nanny or ingrid or bertie or martha or god forbid granmè would be able to hear him, the urge he’s been holding in since he descended from a lie-in yesterday morning to see his parents both sitting at the table. at granmè’s house. to speak to him.

which, really, was never a good sign in the first place, but even for his parents it was a particularly fucking terrible—

the exit door opens.

shit. shit.

dee hastily uses the ends of his capelet to wipe at his eyes and then rummages in his backpack, yanking out the first book he lays hands on, hoping against hope that he can pass it off as skipping class, he can manage that, his reputation wouldn’t even take a hit for that, whereas if someone like louise fucking grant caught him crying—

“are you skipping class?”

dee makes a show of glancing up, nonchalant, at the person who’s spoken.

“are you?” dee contests. logan sanders shakes his head, his hands braced on his backpack straps.

“no,” he says, then, “the bus popped a tire on the way to school.”

“another count against the bus,” dee murmurs, and he turns his attention back to the book, feigning a loss of interest.

logan has not walked away. in fact, he’s walking closer. dee clears his throat, hoping that he won’t get close enough to see his puffy, red-rimmed eyes. he’d specifically planned this particular crying jag so no one would see his puffy, red-rimmed eyes.

“are you skipping class?” logan repeats. dee stifles a curse. damn journalist.

“so what if i am?” dee says, and he might have pulled off his airy tone, if his voice hadn’t cracked on the last word. dee coughs, to cover it, but now logan is walking closer.

“were you… crying?” logan says uncertainly.

“no,” dee lies. and honestly, getting caught might be worth it for the expressions that wars across logan’s face—pained awkwardness overwhelms it, but there’s concern, and discomfort, and a sense of do i have to, and honestly, if dee wasn’t in such a shitty mood it would be pretty funny.

“may i sit?”

“will you listen if i say no?”

“probably not,” logan admits. “even if you weren’t crying, which i’m pretty sure you were—”

“—i wasn’t—”

“—your attendance is as good as mine, i’d still want to know why you were skipping class.”

dee makes a show of sighing, but shoves his backpack a little further away and scoots further into the corner. logan nods, settling his backpack beside dee’s, and sits close to dee. not quite side-by-side, but just far enough away that it’s clear he’s offering dee the choice to lean closer. it’s strangely thoughtful. he remembers, distantly, logan at his birthday party; he’d ducked hugs a lot of the time, only accepting it when he couldn’t substitute a handshake. he wonders if logan doesn’t like physical contact, and tucks away the idea of investigating that for potential use later.

logan pauses, before he says, almost kindly, “the book’s giving you away. you’re reading the scarlet letter. we read that last quarter. i highly doubt you’d be rereading it. you made your dislike known enough as we were reading it, not that i blame you for finding it dull and archaic. it is dull and archaic.”

dee bites back a curse as he makes a show of glancing at the book. he knew he should have cleaned out his backpack after midterms, but no, he’d been too busy—

“i like the scarlet letter,” dee lies, and logan looks at him, arching an eyebrow.

“try again.”

“what?” dee says. “i could.”

“you literally overrode class one day to complain, at length, about how stupid the plot is, how overblown and over-long the prose is, and that hawthorne desperately needed an editor. which i agree with, by the way.”

“well,” dee says. “i could still like it.”

“please,” logan scoffs.

he turns the book in his hands and reduces a shudder. god, what a terrible book. he’ll toss it as soon as he gets home.

“well, i like sleep,” dee says lightly, “and one should always have sleep-inducing material on hand. it’s remarkably effective. i like it for that reason, how about that?”

logan smiles, with a little hum of acknowledgement. a i don’t believe you but i think your excuse is funny enough that i won’t press you on it hum. dee’s heard it many times.

they sit in silence for a couple minutes. long enough that dee thinks that he’s going to get away with it—if they’re quiet until second period, then dee can steal away and have an excuse ready by lunch, if need be.

except logan clears his throat, and dee braces himself.

“if you’d like to… talk,” he says stiffly, and he coughs again. “i am—here. clearly. not just physically, as i am now, but as a means of support. i suppose.”

dee rolls his eyes. “how convincing,” he says, and ignored how clogged-up his voice sounds, all of a sudden.

“yes, well,” logan says. “of the many things my father’s taught me, one thing he apparently hasn’t been able to pass down is being particularly good at navigating these… emotional kinds of conversations is not one of them.”

dee would laugh at the look on logan’s face when he says emotional, if his brain wasn’t stuck on my father.

“your dad,” dee says, a strange tone in his voice, before he can stop himself.

logan’s dad, who was raised in this environment, in this world, and, somehow, had managed to be openly, proudly trans.

logan’s dad, who had been trans, without his parents attempting to publicly interfere with the way he presented himself.

must be nice.

“yes,” logan says cautiously. “what about my dad?”

dee takes a deep breath, and, immediately, two concepts begin to war in his mind.

don’t tell him, one side screams. the whole reason you’re out here is because you don’t want people to see weakness!

he has access to a unique perspective that, to your knowledge, is only shared by yourself and that other person, he argues with himself. and the largest part of this that would be kept secret, he already knows. and you have blackmail in hand if he were to suddenly confess with this additional quest for information.

dee lets out his breath. he says, “does your dad talk about the way it was for him? back then.”

logan stiffens, ever so slightly, in surprise.

“not often,” he says, the cautiousness still lingering in his tone. “he’s only ever really told me a little; bits and pieces. not details, you understand, but…”

logan pauses, collecting his thoughts. dee almost snaps at him to hurry up; usually, logan’s a decent enough public speaker, but the whole dramatic pause thing he did sometimes was really quite annoying.

“i know that it wasn’t easy, for him,” logan says. “that in part, the reaction helped fuel his desire to run away, in addition to my existence and the further stigma that’s associated with that. there are likely old issues of the jefferson that could provide the nastier details; i’ve given him my word i wouldn’t seek them out. i don’t particularly want to. in addition to the writing skills of the jefferson being terrible, i am not particularly inclined to read transphobia and terrible rumors about anyone, much less my father.”

another pause. then, “he had a bonfire for all his dresses and skirts.”

dee turns to him, startled. logan’s dad? that soft little puffball?

“i know,” logan says, seemingly agreeing with how out-of-character it seemed. “my other father—christopher—helped. he’s been saving stories of his various teenage rebellions, too. he used to be rather…” a brief hesitation. “a rabble-rouser.”

dee snorts. it sounds very snotty and terrible and he immediately wishes he hadn’t.

(also—well, dee had known that logan was technically a hayden, it was just he hadn’t really heard logan outwardly express it, ever. he knows that christopher is located in california, somewhere. he wonders how logan handles that. something to look into.)

“why do you ask?” logan says.

“you know why.”

“all right, that was poorly phrased,” logan says. “why ask about this now?”

dee hesitates. logan adds, awkwardly, “if you don’t want to answer—”

“it’s… fine,” dee says stiffly. he clears his throat. he looks at his shoes.

logan is one of the smartest people you know, he reminds himself. he wouldn’t tell. he knows you’d immediately move to destroy him if he told.

keeping his eyes on his toes, he says, forcefully light, “my parents have entered me into the daughters of the american revolution debutante ball. apparently, they’ve decided to stop humoring this phase i am going through, as i am now sixteen, it is time to cease such childish rebellion and enter society properly, as a—” dee stops, abruptly.

“as a gender which you are not,” logan finishes for him. his voice is very, very quiet.

dee clears his throat, and redirects his gaze from his shoes to the wall across from them. he’s very conscious of logan’s eyes on him, examining him, staring at his face for any sign of weakness.

“dee,” he begins, haltingly.

“it doesn’t matter,” dee says, except for the fact that it very much does matter.

“that’s not,” logan begins, then, “i don’t,” and then, a frustrated sigh, before he says, “i’m sorry.”

“don’t,” dee snaps. “i don’t want your pity.”

“the definition of pity is the feeling of sorrow and compassion caused by the suffering and misfortunes of others,” logan snaps back. “as a fellow member of the lgbtq community, of course i feel sorrow and compassion at the information that someone does not have the support of their parents, and that lack of support will cause that someone will be outed publicly without their consent.”

dee doesn’t say anything, instead choosing to stare at the wall. his jaw is clenched so tightly he thinks his teeth might break from the pressure.

“is there anything i can do?” logan says stiffly.

dee keeps his eyes on the wall. “no,” he bites out.

they sit in awkward silence for a few more seconds. it feels like an hour. then:

“what if i stopped it?”

dee scoffs.

“what?” logan says.

“please,” dee says. “it’s the dar debutante ball.”

“we can get you out of it.”

“the bill’s already paid,” dee says.

“then we’ll stop the ball,” logan says.

“i’m sorry, have you met the ilk of your grandmother and her friends?” dee says pointedly. “you think you’re going to rob them of the chance to trot their precious little darlings around in a circle for all the men to drool over?”

logan’s back straightens. dee, finally, turns to look at him.

it’s like dee can see the lightbulb go off over his head.

“what?” dee says.

“nothing,” logan says, except he’s smiling.

“what,” dee snaps.

“nothing,” logan repeats. “it’s just—i might have an idea.”

“might,” dee repeats.

“might,” logan agrees. he’s clearly about to say more, but the bell rings, and there’s the beginning of shuffling steps that means people will emerge into the hallways. logan scrambles to his feet, swinging his backpack over his shoulder, before, belatedly, offering a hand to dee.

dee considers it. he accepts. logan helps haul him to his feet.

“your idea,” dee says, picking up his own backpack.

“you’ll see,” logan says, and dee huffs at him, before beginning to head off to his next class—

“dee?”

dee turns, and logan offers an awkward little facial expression that might be a smile.

“if you want to talk about it—”

“we aren’t friends,” dee says, cutting off whatever platitude that he’s clearly building up to. an idea. probably a lie to try and make dee feel better.

“i know that,” logan says, firmly. “but if you ever do… want to talk about it.”

“i will,” dee says, and tacks on, “if i want to.”

“okay.”

“but i probably won’t.”

“that’s fine.”

dee hesitates. “but if i do—”

“i’m around,” logan says simply.

“i doubt i will,” dee says, attempting to resume his haughty expression.

“you know where to find me, if you do,” logan says.

dee rolls his eyes, as if that conversation was very trying and not something that threatens to create an even bigger lump in his throat, and resumes his route to his science class.

“mister slange, dinner!” nanny calls, and dee startles. he clears his throat and puts down his pen, rising to his feet.

“coming, nanny!” he calls down the stairs.

find him. right. like the idea of talking to logan sanders about anything else in his life is even slightly appealing.

no, he tells himself. the idea of getting to know logan sanders? maybe even becoming something other than rivals? not even a little bit nice.

⁂

as soon as virgil comes out of the kitchen, roman has this Look on his face that makes virgil immediately say “no.”

“you don’t even know what i’m asking yet!” roman protests.

“i can tell you’re plotting something just by the look on your face,” virgil says.

“ah, but technically i’m not the one plotting, logan is,” roman says, and, well. that’s outside the norm. roman tends to be the plotter of the things that give roman That Look on his face, the one that reminds virgil only a little painfully of remus.

“okay, why am i involved in the thing that logan’s plotting?”

“patton’s in on it too,” roman points out. “and, uh, my mom.”

virgil pauses, contemplates, and says, “i don’t know if that’s a warning sign or not.”

“well, logan and i can explain when patton and him get here for dinner,” roman says. “in the meantime—”

“please don’t order something that will make your mom kill me for violating your meal plan too terribly, i don’t think i’ve recovered from last friday,” virgil says wearily.

“ugh, fine,” roman says, and orders something that is at least passably healthy, which he could really teach to his boyfriend and—and virgil’s boyfriend.

virgil’s boyfriend, patton. nope, even after two and a half months, it’s still bizarre in the best possible way.

by the time virgil puts roman’s order in, and carries out about three more, he’s carting a tray across the diner as the bell jangles and two familiar faces walk in.

“hey,” patton says, and leans in to give him a brief, welcoming kiss. habit. routine. thrilling. patton runs a thumb along virgil’s stubble, grinning at him.

“hey yourself,” virgil says, and jerks his head. “roman’s in a booth over there, and apparently i have a plot to be brought in on?”

and then patton… puffs up with pride? literally, puffs up. whenever he’s proud of logan, his posture gets better and he puffs his chest out a little and his chin tilts up, like logan achieving something is an achievement for patton, makes him more confident in himself. virgil guesses a lot of logan’s achievements owe at least a little credit to patton’s parenting, though, so it’s a fair trade. logan doesn’t seem to be complaining.

“that you do,” patton says, a little smug.

“okay then,” virgil says. “brainstorm your pitch and i’ll be right over.”

he drops off dinner orders—mrs. torres and a gaggle of other older ladies who coo and giggle and wave to roman, who blows kisses back, because he’s the default adopted son/grandson for any active older woman in town—before he sidles up to the sanders/prince booth.

“right, okay, orders, then plot,” virgil says, flipping to a new page in his notepad and clicking his pen.

patton and logan put in their orders—virgil successfully convinces them both to trade in something unhealthy for either a salad (patton) or a side of vegetables (logan)—which he notes dutifully, before he slides in beside patton in the booth.

“okay,” virgil says, and he nudges patton. “pitch.”

“my idea, actually,” logan pipes up, and virgil obligingly turns his attention to the younger sanders.

“so,” logan says, folding his hands. “i am coming out.”

“um,” virgil says, dropping his gaze pointedly to where roman’s resting his hand on logan’s wrist. “you did that. like, eight years ago.”

“that’s what i said,” patton says, pleased.

“let me rephrase,” logan says, and his nose wrinkles. “i am coming out in the sense of the viennese waltz, i will be deemed of good breeding and marriageable age, must have dowry, seeking males with a trust fund, fluffy white dresses, et cetera.”

“oh, jesus christ,” virgil says. “what friend roped you into being an escort for this thing? because that is not a friend.”

“keep listening,” patton chides, a laugh in his tone.

“well, that’s the thing,” logan says. “i’m not going to be an escort.”

virgil considers this for a moment. “i’m not following.”

“logan’s creating an army to charge upon the daughters of the american revolution so we can destroy the patriarchy,” roman says, bright and perky.

“i’m recruiting like-minded members of the next generation to make a statement about gender equality,” logan corrects. “in other words: i shall be the one with a dowry, seeking males with a trust fund, in a fluffy white dress.”

“uh.”

“me too,” roman says sunnily. “i’m going to be wearing a fluffy white dress, too. plus a ton of other kids in our grade—the idea’s really caught on. ooh, logan, we can recruit some of the dance girls as escorts!”

virgil tries to picture it: a group of boys in dresses, girls in tuxes, gasping, scandalized rich people. the idea brings a smile to his face.

“oh, good idea, we should send put a sign-up sheet in the studio,” logan says.

“wait, you said i was going to be involved,” virgil says, his brain catching up with him. “where do i fit into all that?”

“well,” patton says. “isadora and i decided to set up a kind of etiquette-and-dance crash-course day for all the kids involved, because despite my best efforts i have not purged the viennese waltz or my numerous etiquette lessons from my mind—”

“you, cultured?” virgil teases, and patton smacks virgil’s arm playfully.

“with no help from you, thank you very much,” patton says. “anyway. since isadora and i are teaching the kids, and there will be an influx of fluffy white dresses and tuxes…”

it clicks. “alterations.”

“got it in one,” patton says cheerfully.

virgil’s a pretty decent tailor, for an amateur—he’s done his fair share of hemming dance costumes, or fixing suits, even some emergency repairs for some wedding dresses, over the years. he’s about to say something along the line of are you sure i should do this, i don’t think i’m qualified for something so fancy but then he catches the hopeful look on logan and roman’s faces, and—

“all right, fine,” virgil says, and he stands. “just let me know when and where, yeah?”

logan grins at him, and roman chirps a thank you, and patton giggles, soft, as virgil makes his way back for the kitchen.

fancy debutante tailor. he guesses he can handle that. it’s not really a step outside of the norm, so it’s not like he’s doing anything super out there, like the kids are.

virgil thought too soon.

by the time he re-emerges from the kitchen, ready to wipe down the counters, patton and logan are at the table finishing up the last of their meals, and roman’s at the counter, shifting his weight from foot to foot, eyes snapping to him.

“hey,” virgil says. “you need a refill of water? because i’m telling you now, if you’re going to try for dessert, you may as well give up now—”

roman rolls his eyes. “no. it’s about the debutante ball.”

“okay,” virgil says, and tosses his towel over his shoulder. “what about it?”

“it, um,” roman says, and clears his throat. “ugh. apparently, your father’s supposed to present you at the ceremony.”

“oh,” virgil says.

“and, um, since i don’t really have a dad,” roman begins.

“i could alter a tux for your mom?” virgil suggests. “since everyone’s already doing the whole ‘screw gender’ thing anyway.”

“i—no, no, she’s probably going to do backstage stuff to make sure that the sideshire kids aren’t spooked by the rich people,” roman says. “plus, she’d hate wearing a tux.”

“yeah, fair enough,” virgil says. he thinks the only time he’s really seen her dressed up is when she has to, during a recital or performance or something. “okay. i could help with the tux of… i forget his name, what’s that guy who was your one-on-one instructor during the nutcracker? sergio, right? i could drive you to visit sergio—“

“sergio is in portugal,” roman says, looking an odd mixture of helpless, amused, and frustrated. “y’know. where he’s from?”

“oh,” virgil says. “um, there’s always taylor? you know he’d be super into the whole pomp and circumstance thing.”

“taylor,” roman says. “virgil. you of all people. recommend taylor.”

“i know, okay, i know, but i’m kind of coming up blank here,” virgil says.

“coming up blank?” roman repeats, the frustrated part becoming more clear.

“i’m trying here,” virgil says. “you could—”

“oh, for god’s sake, dumb-utante, i’m trying to ask you to escort me,” roman snaps.

virgil’s jaw drops. just a little.

“oh,” he says.

roman flushes a brilliantly bright red, and looks down at his shoes.

“i—just, whatever, okay, you don’t have to,” he mutters, and scuffs the toe of his shoe over the diner floor. he needs new ones—the white, rubbery part of his converse is overrun with mud and sharpie doodles, the aglets frayed, part of the high-top worn from where roman grabs it to shove his foot into it every morning discolored.

remus used to wear green converse, sometimes, the most casual in his extensive collection of costume-style clothes. he remembers telling roman this, when roman was pretty little and ms. prince had enlisted virgil to take roman out for back-to-school shopping, and virgil had bought roman his first pair. he’d been little, then. six, he thinks. maybe seven. they’d gotten ice cream after. roman had gotten rum raisin, and virgil ended up having to eat the rest of it when roman pronounced it “ucky” and roman had ended up getting his usual chocolate-cherry. virgil had made roman pinky-promise that he would get a small one, so he wouldn’t spoil his dinner.

but roman prefers high-tops, and remus had always gotten classic chucks. roman loves red, and remus loved green.

they’re different, remus and roman. like night and day. it still makes virgil feel a little strange whenever he thinks about how much longer he’s known roman than he’d known remus—really, it had topped out a few years ago, much longer if virgil was just considering how long he and remus had been friends. so much of his relationship with roman was built on the basis of being the last of remus’ friends still in sideshire, other than ms. prince, and so he was one of the only ones who could tell roman about his dad. do what his dad would have done.

remus probably would have bought roman his first pair of chucks when roman was a baby, those little tiny shoes that can sit comfortably in the palm of virgil’s hand with plenty of space to spare.

but remus is dead, and so buying roman his first pair of signature red shoes had fallen to virgil.

basically everything remus would have loved to do with his son had fallen to virgil, really, if ms. prince hadn’t taken care of it first.

apparently, your father’s supposed to present you at the ceremony.

“no,” virgil says, strangely choked up. “that’s—that’s a good idea. cool. i can, um. i can do that.”

“really?” roman asked, eyes snapping up from his shoes. he smiles like remus when he’s plotting, that much is true, but when he smiles when he’s just happy—all virgil can see is roman.

“yeah, sure,” virgil says, and then he coughs into his elbow to clear whatever’s lodged in his throat. “just, uh. just keep me updated on, y’know. details.”

roman’s grin grows a bit more delighted, a bit more remus-like. “are you crying?”

“what? no,” virgil scoffs.

“because you sound like you’re about to start crying.”

“i was chopping onions,” virgil says lamely. “this has nothing to do with you.”

“oh, i better check my calendar again, i didn’t realize it was opposite day,” roman says gleefully.

“you’re the most obnoxious teenager i’ve ever met,” virgil says, and roman laughs, even as he’s backing away, slowly, toward the door. virgil rolls his eyes, and moves to wipe down the counters.

“and you have to wear a tux!” roman calls, and virgil’s head snaps up.

“wait, what, no way—“

“shave off the five o’clock shadow, too, i won’t be looking scruffy by comparison!” roman calls, opening the door. virgil scowls, rubbing a hand along his face—yes, he goes stubbly sometimes, especially during winters or when he’s busy, but he doesn’t look bad with facial hair, he just looks a bit off today because he woke up late—and the reality hits him. a tux. dressing fancy. being involved in a high society ceremony.

“the tux is bad enough!”

“you’re forgetting the tails, the cumberbun, plus white gloves!“ roman says, ticking it off on his fingers.

“i take it back!” virgil calls. “i’m not doing this anymore!”

“too late, i already signed you up!” roman shouts, and disappears from the diner before virgil can yell at him anymore.

a tux. tails. white gloves.

a cumberbun.

dammit, of course roman would manage to net him into some kind of makeover.

⁂

it’s been a shitty day so far.

something kept interrupting his sleep last night, so when he finally managed to get to sleep, he slept through his alarm. granmè was already having a bad memory day, repeatedly calling out for her dead husband and not recognizing nanny, which means she probably won’t recognize him, so he had to keep out of their way, and as he was walking out the door he saw bertie holding up something ensconced in a garment bag, lips pursed in disapproval, whose length could only mean the arrival of a fluffy white dress, a nice reminder of the thing that dee was dreading.

and it isn’t even eight yet.

“move,” dee snarls to the particularly amorous couple blocking the path to his locker—really, people, it was seven forty-five in the morning, did they always have to start the day attempting to tie their tongues together?—and they shuffle aside, to a vacant stretch of wall, presumably to resume their excessive pda.

dee rolls his eyes. typical.

except—

“slange,” one of the makeout participants says. dee ignores him, placing the books he’d had to bring home for homework in and pulling out the books he’d need for his morning classes.

“hey, slange, i’m talking to you,” he repeats.

dee rolls his eyes with all the sarcasm he can muster, and directs his gaze to them; summer, absently wiping some stray lipgloss off with her finger, and tristan, leaning over.

“what,” dee says, in the crispest tone he possibly can.

“didn’t take you for a troublemaker,” tristan says, grinning still; dee notes, sourly, that summer could probably spare some energy to wipe off the sticky lip gloss on tristan’s chin, too.

“excuse me.”

“oh, right, right,” tristan says, and rolls his eyes. “fighting the patriarchy, excuse me. hey, if that excuse is enough to make it look good on your college resume, you wouldn’t happen to know how to—”

“you already know all the people in our grade who write papers for a fee, dugray,” dee says, already exhausted and snippy and—he hates to even admit it to himself—confused. “take it up with henry, if you must. and wipe off your face before you go to class, you have holographic glossier smeared everywhere. it’ll give you away to julia, she doesn’t wear lipgloss.”

summer gapes at him, and immediately begins to screech something along the lines of “what is that supposed to mean, i knew you didn’t block her like i told you to!” but dee’s already tuning it out, slamming the locker door shut and making his way to homeroom. frankly, summer should have dumped tristan the second he told her that she wasn’t allowed to talk to other boys. the pair of them were toxic together—half the material he had on tristan were things that he wouldn’t want summer to know.

the other half would, if it made its way to the right hands, get him sent off to military school.

dee’s saving most of the rest of that for when he gets really annoyed with tristan.

he might be there in ten minutes if he didn’t get an answer—what did tristan mean, trouble-making? and tristan dugray, fighting the patriarchy. please. tristan’s as emblematic of a toxic, rich, straight white boy that there could be. tristan adores all the trappings of the patriarchy; it better allows him to pursue whatever girl he wanted into being his girl of the week, despite the fact that they weren’t particularly wanting to be his girl of the week, whenever he and summer were on a break (and, most of the time, when they weren’t.)

except that isn’t even the only time.

henry, dermot, lem—even shy little brad, who usually breaks out into cold sweats at the sight of him since the whole theater incident in sixth grade, seem to be attempting to make eye contact with him as he walks down the hall, like they were in with him, or something. like they were suddenly friends.

dee stews, furious, at the very idea they could know something about him that he doesn’t know—until he sees lisa approaching logan sanders, who seems to be loading up his backpack.

dee frowns. logan wouldn’t like lisa—well, obviously, he’s gay, but also, lisa subscribes to her parents’ politics, including the epithets of “fake news,” and he’s pretty sure that alone would spring logan into a furious tirade like little else could.

dee pauses.

fight the patriarchy, tristan had said. trouble making.

“what if i stopped it?”

and then he moves immediately toward the locker.

“—long as you don’t say why, then yes, of course,” logan says.

“duh!” lisa chirps. “hilarious, lo-lo, seriously.”

logan’s face twists up as politely as he can manage at the sound of a cutesy nickname, but he can’t really say anything, since lisa’s already flouncing off to be discriminatory and heartless on her parents’ orders.

presumably.

“what,” dee says, “was that.”

“i know,” logan says, turning back to his locker. “lo-lo. what am i, a puppy?”

“not that,” dee says. “you know she’s—”

“a terrible person who stands against everything i am, yes,” logan says mildly. “but she’s wealthy and has a fair amount of—” a near-sneaky glance at a notecard in his hand— “clout, amongst the puffs.”

“the puffs?” dee repeats, his voice already sounding strange.

“you know, the secret sorority,” he says nonchalantly. “one of them, at least, and certainly the most desired to join—”

“i know who the puffs are,” dee says, in a tone that clearly denotes do you think i’m stupid, i’ve gone to this school for longer than you have.

“ah,” logan says. “right. well, i would have gone through francie jarvis, who is less diametrically opposed to—” he makes a sweeping gesture up and down his body, “but she was absent yesterday, so. lisa was the obvious in.”

“why do you need an in with the puffs?” dee says.

logan glances up and down the hall—god, way to show off you’re discussing something sensitive—before he pulls a leaflet out of his backpack, handing it to dee.

FIGHT THE PATRIARCHY!

dee skims it, and feels his eyebrows rise higher and higher, even as his throat gets disturbingly closed up.

“i noticed that a lot of the puffs are due for their debutante ball,” logan explains, even as dee stares at the—the excuse, the excuse that logan’s pulling for this elaborate ruse, that, if it works—

i won’t be outed.

dee swallows, hard. he folds the leaflet back up, and clears his throat.

“the puffs are a decent enough start,” he says, voice perhaps a bit thicker than normal. “as they’re the most socially prized secret society at chilton, it was a good place to begin—people will want to emulate them, especially those who are attempting to get puffed. mostly freshmen, but there are a few sophomores who are sixteen that’ll join. but you need to pivot your focus—the old crows and the skull and dagger would probably gain more participants per club capita.”

“old crows?” logan says uncertainly.

“the secret society for a select few seniors,” dee says. “who have likely already had a coming out, but it’s not uncommon to do multiple. skull and dagger would probably love an excuse to cause chaos, but that’s sorted, so long as you bother tristan some more. and if you’re going to come at it from the fight patriarchy angle, you’re going to need to get the clairosophic society involved.”

“the…?”

“another secret sorority,” dee says. “do you only know the puffs?”

logan abruptly looks sheepish, and dee sighs, put-upon.

“well,” he says. “clearly, you need my help pulling this off. of all the secret societies at this school, only ten are worth mentioning—”

“only ten?!”

“—so we can get people through those,” dee says, “and yes, ten, i thought you were a journalist, aren’t you supposed to know how to research these sorts of things?”

“well,” logan says. “i’ve already gotten a group of kids from sideshire, but clearly, i’ll need your help on the social side at chilton.”

a beat, and then, uncertain, “if you’re okay with this.”

dee stares at him for a long few seconds.

“if this works,” dee says carefully, trying to directly telepathically communicate i am okay with you attempting to cover for me like this, please count me in, “you’re going to have a hell of a college essay on your hands.”

a grin breaks out on logan’s face.

“as if i don’t have three drafts written already,” he says, and dee allows himself to grin back at him.

“now,” he says. “the clairs,” and logan readies a notebook, and, if dee were at all prone to clichés, he might say something like, this is the start to a beautiful partnership.

but he isn’t. obviously.

⁂

logan has his game face on.

patton’s seen this face countless times before; before he walks into mayor porter’s office to demand answers beyond pr statements, before they entered charleston’s office his first day at chilton, when coming face-to-face taylor after his latest piece that critiqued the way he handles town government.

he’s seen it while they were driving to the exact same place, too; before holiday parties, before birthday dinners, before the first-ever friday night dinner. but he hasn’t pulled up to the sanders’ mansion looking like that in months.

patton puts the car in park, removes the keys, and wipes his sweaty hands on his trousers for what must be the dozenth time that night.

“i’m on your side,” patton reminds him.

“i know,” logan says and opens the car door, ready to storm up to the door and… well. tell emily that he was going to join the debutante ball.

which she’d probably be thrilled with, if he was the one escorting a girl in a white dress.

it would almost be a little funny to think about, if he wasn’t so nervous—emily expecting patton to go through a debutante ball in a fluffy dress, only to be derailed by the fact that he wasn’t a girl and, you know, the teen pregnancy; emily then expecting logan to escort a lovely young lady on his arm only to be turned around by logan doing it in a fluffy dress.

patton wipes his hands off on his pants again before he rings the doorbell.

he has never seen the woman who answers the door before.

which isn’t surprising; new maids crop up at his parents’ house like weeds. he’s really hoping that therapy would help make a dent in that habit of his mother’s, but no dice yet.

“hi,” patton says, as kindly as possible—he always tries to be as kind as possible to the maids, just to make up for whatever future tiny offense that they might get fired for. one time he got grounded for two weeks for helping esperanza polish silver and practice his spanish. poor esperanza, he’d liked her.

plus, ever since the whole “being a homeless housekeeper” thing, his sympathy had really only escalated for them—he feels a level of solidarity, even if he’s not a housekeeper anymore.

“hello,” the maid says; she has an accent, patton thinks probably german. she’s blonde, and patton can see only half her face from the way she’s practically hiding behind the door.

“you’re new?” patton asks, and she nods.

“okay, well, hi,” patton says, offering a hand to shake. “i’m patton—”

she shakes his hand hurriedly, before pulling back further into the house.

“—and that’s my son, logan. what’s your name?”

“liesl.”

“hi, liesl,” he says warmly. “i’m emily and richard’s son, she’s expecting us for dinner?”

“oh! please, come in,” she says, flustered, opening the door further.

“i, uh,” she says, “can i, um. get you a drink?”

“you know what, that’s okay!” patton says brightly. “we can handle it.”

a pause, before patton says in an undertone, “if you’d like to hide in the kitchen before my mother gets down here, please go for it.”

a look of relief breaks out on her face. “really?”

patton nods.

“thank you,” she exhales, and scuttles off to relative safety.

logan waits until she rounds the corner, before he says, “she won’t last another day.”

patton sighs, moving to hang his coat on the rack. he would tell logan that’s not a very nice thing to say, if he wasn’t right about it. “i know, poor thing.”

as they continued into the living room, patton could hear his mother coming down the stairs; less than a few seconds later, she rounded the corner, landline phone firmly affixed to her ear.

“—don’t forget that the dar meeting’s on tuesday, it’s at three o’clock and all the women are extremely punctual…”

emily makes eye contact with patton to roll her eyes, as if to curse the entire customer service industry; patton shrugs at her, just a little, before he lightly bumps logan’s shoulder and murmurs “soda?”

logan nods, drifting off to investigate the latest influx of tiny figurines that definitely weren’t there last week, and patton goes to the drinks cart to prep their drinks for the evening.

her mother’s talking about heddy cubbington—ah, so she’s talking to a caterer, then—and patton leans into her line of vision just enough to wiggle a bottle of gin at her, mouthing “martini?”

okay, he might try and make it a smidge stronger than usual. honestly, if she’s a bit off her game from more gin than usual, then maybe she won’t freak out as badly as patton is kind of expecting her to!

but regardless, his mother nods, even as she’s telling the caterer about her very precise tasting methods that they’ll have to follow to a t, and patton reacquaints himself with the process of preparing a martini exactly as his mother likes it—there was a stint of about a month or so when the hotel’s bar staff was incredibly short, way back in the day, so he picked up a few cocktail tricks here and there.

he wonders if he could still manage to do a lidless shaker flip without spilling anything.

before he can try, though—and probably hear his mother’s outcry about trying his absolute hardest to stain her rug—his mother hangs up on the phone with a fervor, rolling her eyes as she did so.

“honestly, sometimes it’s like the only person with any sense,” she huffs.

patton hums, carefully straining the martini into one of the coupes. he would do a martini glass, but those tend to spill more, the coupes hold more liquid, and she prefers the material of the coupes anyway—less likely to have fingerprint smudges, which also means one less thing to use to potentially snap at poor liesl. “troubles with the dar, mom?”

(okay, so maybe he’s busting out his old tricks to put his mother in a good mood—there’s almost nothing his mother likes more than gossiping and snipping at the members of the dar that aren’t pulling their weight, and once she’s expelled a bit of energy ranting like that, it usually meant less energy could be spent ranting at him.)

she sighs, settling on her usual spot on the couch. “constance betterton is running this event into the ground—” patton presses the martini into her hand, and she looks startled, momentarily, before thanks him briefly and continues on her tirade, including the perils of unsold tables and constance’s absolute inability to plan a function.

patton hands over logan’s soda and directs him to the couch before he can crack open any books of interest, because logan will probably spend most of the dinner ignoring them if that happens, and since richard is on a business trip again that means it will be just him and his mom, and with how nervous he is over logan’s upcoming proposal he absolutely cannot do that, and then he goes and makes himself a plain club soda because him drinking sounds like a not-great idea right now.

by the time that particular train of conversation runs out of steam, it’s enough to carry them to the dining room.

“so, logan,” emily says, as liesl attempts to set a land speed record for serving salads in her quest to get back to the kitchen, “is there anything new in your life?”

patton’s pretty sure that it would be impossible to pick up on who’s more nervous, him or liesl.

“there is, actually,” logan says, somehow entirely unfazed. “dee slange—you remember, you took me out to lunch with him and his grandmother evelyn—”

“oh, yes,” emily says, “wonderful woman, incredibly talented gardener. she’s coming out less and less lately, it’s been a while since we’ve had a good, long chat.”

“—we’re arranging a bit of an extracurricular project,” logan continues.

“oh?” emily says, sounding interested. she picks up her fork and begins to eat her salad. “you two are getting along, then?”

“we’ve come to an understanding,” logan says coolly, and even as nervous as patton is, he can’t but grin a bit at his son. we’ve come to an understanding. really, logan, it wouldn’t hurt to say that you’re friends now.

“wonderful,” emily says briskly. “good that you’ve put that petty rivalry behind you.”

patton bites his tongue rather than start on a rant about the seriousness of physical assault.

“quite,” logan says.

“so, what’s this project?” she asks, with a slight gesture of her fork. “you two are interested in journalism, from what i hear, is it something like that?”

logan sets his fork down. “actually, grandma, it has to do with you, tangentially. mrs. slange is a member of the daughters of the american revolution. like you.”

“a research project, then?” she says. “richard will probably have some books for—”

“not really,” logan says. “we’re both arranging for greater participation in the debutante ball. i’m coming out.”

patton holds his breath. here we go.

emily chuckles. “the correct term for the young gentlemen is escorting, logan. are you both escorting young ladies, then? anyone i know?”

“oh, i used the correct term,” logan says mildly. “i’m coming up with a partner later, but i was actually going to ask if you ever bought a dress for dad to use before he came out.”

emily lowers her fork.

patton’s pretty sure that even if he was about to breathe, he wouldn’t be able to.

“i’m going to be a debutante,” he says, very slowly, as if explaining something he thought to be obvious.

“you’re not serious,” she says disbelievingly.

“i am,” logan says. “we have approximately twenty-five participants so far, and we’re recruiting more. so. do you have a dress or not?”

“that’s absurd,” emily says. “i mean—my grandson, gallivanting about in a dress, how will that look?!”

“you were going to let dad do it,” logan points out, and before patton can say hey, nice point! emily swivels to face patton, piercing him through with a glare. “did you put him up to this?!”

before patton can squeak out anything, logan putting down his fork with a clang louder than necessary, and she turns to face her grandson.

“i was simply asking if you had a dress,” logan says. his voice is very, very even. the game face has reappeared. “i can ask again, if you’d like. do you have a dress suitable for this occasion, or should i shop for my own?”

emily and logan stare each other down. patton’s eyes dart between them both.

his mother has a variety of nicknames: the cobra, from her antiquing friends, because she’d squeeze and squeeze at you until you complied. wicked witch of the west, by some of her shopping friends, over the levels she’d go to over something as simple as a pair of shoes.

christopher had joked once that “people considered what patton’s mother would do in a given situation, dialed it back, and they’d have what mussolini would do, then they’d dial it back, and they’d have what stalin would do, and then they’d dial that back and then it starts approaching what a sane person would do.”

she’d once forced an ex-president out of a hotel room because theirs had been bigger than theirs. a president. of the whole united states.

patton’s gearing himself up to provide as much supportive parent backup to logan that he possibly can, and also cursing himself for taking the time to hang up his coat, because if he hadn’t and just kept it with him they could make a quicker escape, and palming the car keys in his pocket. he puts together comebacks for my friends will be at this event and undignified and what will people say?!

and then patton takes a closer look at his mother’s face. it’s not her version of the game face, patton notices.

and then patton puts together what that expression is, with no small amount of surprise.

she’s calculating.

she’s calculating, patton realizes with no small amount of shock, if it’s worth it to go up against logan.

because logan is definitely wearing his game face, coupled with a defiant, angry look that, with another shock, it reminds him of him. it reminds him of him when he was a bit younger than logan is now—and, he realizes, his mother must be recalling those hellion days too.

at last, his mother sighs, wipes her mouth a napkin, and stands. “i might have something suitable.”

patton’s left sitting there, gaping. his mother. his mother backed down. his mother. did not fight with logan when it was clear what he was doing would interfere with her social status.

his mother!

“well?!” emily snaps. “do you want to see it or not?!”

he and logan exchange a look before they scramble out of their seats, heading after her as quick as they can.

they’re going down to the basement, which holds a conglomeration of things and also patton’s second-most-frequently-used sneak-out route. the wine cellar’s down here, along with his parents’ collections of luggage, and matching white wardrobes filled with all kind of things, and gifts from granny trix that his mother has refused to display over the years, and art and furniture deemed out-of-fashion but were still held fondly enough to be stored in the house—it was, by far, the most disorganized segment of the sanders’ mansion.

of course, there were still clear paths to each segment of the basement, so it wasn’t as disorganized as, say, patton’s garage, but still. disorganized by his parents’ standards.

so patton follows logan who follows emily, past life-sized dog statues, past a stack of steamer trunks and matching carry-on luggage, past framed paintings of some of patton’s old family members, past the rows of old wines stored for an occasion fancy enough for them, past candlesticks and antique tables, past crates and cardboard boxes filled with, patton’s sure, more of the same, until they get back to yet another white wardrobe.

“it’s in here somewhere,” his mother says, already flipping her way through rows and rows of hanging garment bags, before she makes an “aha!” sound and plucks free a garment bag that looks identical to all the rest, before sparing it a fond glance.

“we got it in london,” she says fondly, “never actually worn, of course, but goodness, the plans i had for the seamstresses…” and patton feels a squirming sensation in his stomach that he hasn’t felt in a very long time; the same one he’d get every time he was dragged into a department store, the same one he’d get every time he knew he had to wear whatever was laid out on the bed for whatever party or get-together his mother was having, the same one he’d get when his mother’s friends, over for tea, would croon, my goodness, how pretty you are!

patton clears his throat before his mother can start reminiscing on the times of dresses and skirts past, and says, “maybe show logan the dress, mom?”

“oh,” she says, seemingly successfully jolted out of whatever fashion-induced daydreaming session she’d fallen into, “yes” and unzips the garment bag, to reveal—

well, patton doesn’t know what he’d expected, really. all he can see is a lot of white, puffy tulle.

“can i try it on?” logan says. “just to see it.”

emily hesitates, clutching the delicate fabric, before she hands him the garment bag with no small amount of reluctance.

“we’ll be upstairs when you want to give us a little fashion show,” patton says, carefully catching his mother’s elbow before she can rethink any of this. “let us know if you need help zipping it up or anything?”

logan nods, and begins the process of carefully unearthing the dress as patton steers his mother back up the stairs.

“he’ll need help getting into the dress,” emily protests.

“if he needs help, he’ll ask,” patton counters, firmly. “he’s sixteen, he’s helped roman with a lot of elaborate costumes like that before. he’ll manage. let’s give him a bit of privacy.”

patton glances back in enough time to see logan shooting him a grateful look, and patton shoots him a thumbs-up—he’d always hated it whenever his mother barged into a dressing room to “help,” so he’d always tried his best to let logan have his privacy when it came to this kind of thing.

also, okay, maybe the weirdness of having his pre-selected debutante dress he’d never worn or even really known about coming back to haunt him in some way is getting to him, just a little bit.

“how did this idea get into his head?” she asks suspiciously, as soon as they’ve cleared the last of the steps and relocate to the living room; patton crosses to sit on the couch, and maybe walks a little slower than usual to get an answer straight in his head.

“i don’t… exactly know, why this, i mean,” patton says slowly—which is a little true, he doesn’t know exactly why logan chose this course of action over anything else—and fiddles with his suit jacket. “um, but i know it’s important to him. and dee,” he tacks on unnecessarily. “so, i’m all for it. a thousand percent.”

she surveys him, before she says, “you know more than you’re letting on, though.”

“not my story to tell,” patton says, and it surprises him, how firm his tone is. “but i am really behind logan doing this.”

she sighs, as if he’s a child all over again. “you would be behind logan doing anything. will you keep that attitude if he decided to drop out of school tomorrow?”

“okay, first of all, that sounds more like me,” patton points out. “in fact, that was me. logan is at least channeling any trouble-making tendencies toward something productive.”

“productive,” she says. “the daughters of the american revolution debutante ball—”

“—is an outdated, sexist ‘tradition,’” patton says, using finger quotes, “that will, at worst, turn out to be a college entry essay for logan, and at best be a nice, eye-opening event to some of your friends, who, if i recall, were not particularly enthusiastic about that whole upholding,” time for finger quotes again, “‘the promise of equality for all, and we share an obligation to help our nation fulfill that founding promise.’”

emily’s eyes widen, and oh boy, patton sure said a lot more than he meant to there, so he braces himself for what might be a fight, but luck happens to be on patton’s side tonight.

“dad?” logan calls.

“yeah, kiddo?”

“i need help with the buttons,” logan says, voice distinctly closer than before; like he’s hiding around the corner.

“okay, well,” patton says, about to get to his feet to go and help, but then logan turns the corner.

the dress, patton sees, is… surprisingly simple, for his mother’s taste. there’s delicate, appliqué straps, with a modest scoop neckline. the bodice is delicately embroidered, and the skirt is unadorned tulle.

the dress is simple, he realizes, a little startled, because even before his mother was shopping for it, he had made his distaste for elaborate dresses and gowns clear. she must have picked this out for him in an attempt to garner his good graces with this dress; this was what she must have thought his tastes would have looked like.

he still would have hated it.

it twists up his stomach a bit more, thinking about what would have been, what his mother probably thinks should have been, but patton plasters a smile on his face, rising to his feet, pushing that out of his mind and trying to focus on how logan looks in the dress, not on the fight that would have happened if patton had seen this dress, if he’d had to wear it, before he’d come out.

it’s a little bit short on logan, but that’s to be expected—patton had been a pretty short teenager, and logan’s taller than patton is even now, after a half-foot testosterone-induced growth spurt. the skirt would have swept along the ground if patton was wearing it, if he’s calculating right; as it is, it hits logan somewhere above the ankles, giving it a “fifties flare skirt” kind of vibe. the bodice isn’t really thought out for someone with as flat a chest as logan’s, either, but at least it follows the path of his torso—no need to try and lengthen that.

“very handsome,” he says, before he rounds to logan’s back to examine—ah, yes, as he expected, the buttons up the back are all delicate and tiny and fiddly, and almost impossible for logan to fasten on his own, because he’d never had practice with things like this before. “yeah, okay, let’s see how you fit into it—gosh, i must have been almost a foot shorter than you are now when mom ordered this dress. we’ll definitely have to alter it—”

“do you have a tailor in mind?” emily says.

“virgil’ll do it,” patton says absently, as he’s a little surprised at how easily his fingers remember to maneuver the little pearly buttons—muscle memory, he guesses—and glances up to see his mother arching her eyebrows disbelievingly.

“i know he sews,” she says, voice clearly tinged with doubt, clearly about to say but.

“uh-huh,” patton says, turning his attention back to the buttons. “he’s really good at it, too. he’s done some emergency fixes on wedding dresses and stuff, so he knows how to work with gowns.”

there’s a soft hmph.

“he’s going to be altering dresses and tuxes for the sideshire kids involved in this,” patton continues, then, “all right, hon, that’s the last one. is it too tight, too loose…?”

“fine, i think,” logan says. “tight, but i think i can manage for now.”

patton flips a strap of the dress that’s gotten all twisted around, before sidestepping the skirt—they’ll need to get a crinoline so that it puffs out properly, patton can tell—and observing the entire look, how it seems now that logan’s fully dressed.

it’s a bit odd, definitely. logan’s only ever really worn dresses when he was roped into it as a kid, mostly while playing dress-up with roman—logan’s always been pretty attached to jeans or slacks to pair with his ties or bowties—so seeing logan in a dress is an unusual enough occurrence that it strikes patton’s brain as something completely new.

the dress, as delicate-looking as it is, combines with logan in a strange contrast that works; he looks nice in white, and all the delicate details seem to change what they emphasize—the scoop neck makes his collarbone look graceful, demure, but the thin straps emphasize the broadness of logan’s shoulders, the muscle there. the dress is all soft, sweet femininity, a look that logan doesn’t rock very often, because all the rest of it is logan—who usually favors a straight-forward, business-like, traditionally masculine look.

he looks good.

“give us a twirl, kiddo,” patton says, mostly teasing, but logan obliges, lifting himself onto his tiptoes to spin himself around, the skirt flaring and settling. patton applauds.

and then he smiles, because logan is kind of smiling, but also kind of trying to hide that he’s smiling, because it’s probably the first time in about ten years that logan’s spun around in a long skirt, and hey, skirts of any kind might mess with patton’s gender dysphoria, but he also remembers how satisfying it is to spin around in a really long skirt.

logan plucks lightly at the skirt to make sure it’s all hanging straight, before he glances over and says, and patton only knows it’s tinged with slight nervousness because of how well he knows him, “what do you think, grandma?”

patton turns to look at his mother for the first time since he’d started fastening logan’s buttons.

emily’s staring at the pair of them. and staring. and staring. patton’s about to prod logan to maybe ask again, before—

“heels,” she says.

“what?” logan says, glancing up from the skirt.

“that dress will never work if you don’t wear heels,” she says, a glint in her eyes.

logan says, “heels are scientifically proven to cause foot, ankle, knee, and back problems. also, they are a tool of the patriarchy, designed to slow a woman down.”

“oh, it’ll be required,” she says. “as well as elbow-length kidskin gloves, pantyhose, a crinoline—”

“that’s ridiculous,” logan huffs.

“uh-huh,” patton says absently, recalling his own experiences with heels. “that’s a debutante ball, kiddo.”

“and if you’re going to do the thing, you may as well do it properly,” emily says decisively, standing up. “i might have a pair of heels that will fit you, just so we can see the amount of height you’ll need—”

and she’s off, heading straight for her closet. in retrospect, patton thinks, he probably should have expected his mom being more on board when it came to clothes.

“help,” logan says, looking at patton pleadingly.

“hey,” patton says, holding up his hands with half a laugh, “this was your idea.”

logan looks like he’s sincerely regretting it.

⁂

virgil’s putting away the last of the dishes he’d washed (patton would probably get on him, later, for doing chores that patton was going to do later, and how you don’t have to do that, honey!! but he was bored, he did some dishes, sue him, also patton always gives him this smile whenever he does things like this, so it is for slightly selfish reasons) when he hears patton’s car pull into the driveway, and the motor cuts off.

virgil smiles to himself, and makes sure that he’s put everything away properly, before he meanders over to the couch and tries to make it seem like he hasn’t been cleaning patton’s kitchen. he’s obviously going to get found out as soon as patton notices his sink is empty, but.

he can hear logan’s voice floating through the door, “—glad she took it okay, but dad, you had to stop at that store right then—?”

“i probably should have warned you,” patton, a laugh in his voice, “but honestly, well. you are gonna have to wear the gloves and crinoline at least, and since you’ve never—”

the door opens, logan carrying a garment bag, patton carrying a shopping bag, “—walked in a pair before, it’s probably smart that you—virgil, hi, honey!”

virgil rises automatically to his feet as patton’s face brightens, and patton rocks up on his toes to give him a greeting kiss.

“i thought you were working?” patton says.

virgil shrugs, and sticks his hands in his pockets. “things were slow enough, i figured i could let jean close. hey, l, is that the dress?”

“it is,” logan says.

“so that went okay?” virgil says, and logan scowls, ever so slightly.

“virgil’ll need to see you in the heels you’re intending to wear to get the hemming right,” patton says. “won’t you, virgil?”

“yeah, i’ll have to use it to see if the skirt needs more length—and heels, huh?” virgil says, glancing at logan.

logan scowls even deeper. “grandma seems to be under the influence that if i’m going to be a debutante, i’m going to have to do it properly. therefore, heels.”

“and elbow length kidskin gloves, and a crinoline,” patton says, ticking them off on his fingers. “i have a list.”

“should probably wait until you get the petticoat to tailor the dress,” virgil says. “could i see it, though? you don’t have to put it on or anything. i brought a—”

“oh!” patton says, catching sigh of the torso-only mannequin sitting in the corner of the room.

“i’ll just keep it here for logan’s dress,” virgil says. “i figured a headless one would be less… creepy.”

“it’s appreciated,” logan says, before he hands over the garment bag, and virgil unzips it, starting to unbunch the skirt and wrestle it onto the mannequin.

“i hate heels,” logan grumbles. “have you seen the studies on what wearing these things on a regular basis will do to your spine?”

“uh-huh,” patton says.

“not to mention your feet,” logan says, scowling at the shoebox like it’s morally offended him.

“also,” logan continues, “heels are an invention of the patriarchy! they were originally meant to help men secure their feet in stirrups, and then it became a symbol of nobility and class, so they’re inherently classist, too!”

“oh, absolutely agreed,” patton says.

“i can’t believe grandma insisted on heels,” logan says. “flats would be fine.”

“yeah, i probably should have guessed she wouldn’t let that part go, given the lessons,” patton says.

logan glances up, frowning. “lessons?”

virgil glances away from where he’s fluffing out the skirt of the dress, too, to see patton with a strange look on his face; half nostalgia, half regret. it’s a look he usually gets when he’s talking about growing up in the sanders house.

“oh, yeah,” patton says, reminiscent. “as soon as i was deemed old enough, we had walking practice lessons, me and your grandma.”

“…what,” virgil says. because. what?

patton laughs, just a little. “yeah, every day for half an hour a day, one summer! she’d make sure i had proper posture in heels. i had to balance a book on my head, too, to make it even more cliché.”

logan looks, perhaps, a little cowed. virgil, on the other hand, is just—

sometimes, it knocks him totally off-guard, whenever patton talks about the various absurd things he had to do, pre-transition, as the sole scion of a rich family. etiquette lessons and country clubs and going to the opera and flower arranging and walking lessons. patton remembers a lot of it, clearly—of course he does, for so long it had been deemed that patton would be a house spouse who raised kids for a similarly wealthy scion of an esteemed family—but it always throws virgil off, just a little.

he briefly pictures patton—long-haired, in the admittedly few pictures patton has shown virgil of himself at that age—chin tilted carefully up, but not too far up, one of the too-big grimoires from richard’s library wobbling on his head, eyes fixed on one of the portraits emily has dotting the house, walking loops around the living room as emily critiqued his posture and stance with a hawkish eye, the click-click-click of heels on hardwood the only thing to break up her commentary.

“i mean,” patton says, breaking that particular mental image. “you know. at least you’ve only gotta wear heels for this one thing. women are expected to wear heels all the time. and since you’re selling this to a lot of chilton students as experiencing what women experience for a day…”

“…i will shut up about the heels,” logan mumbles.

patton ruffles his hair, and, seemingly detecting the mood that’s dropped over logan and virgil—thinking about what it would be like, to be raised like that—and says, in a gentle tone, brushing logan’s hair back into place, “heels really aren’t so bad, once you get used to them. it does just take a bit of practice, i promise.”

logan sighs, and looks at the box a smidge less distastefully than before. “i suppose i’ll have to try it to see.”

“that’s the spirit,” patton says brightly, and virgil shakes himself and refocuses on fastening the buttons of the dress, before stepping out from behind it to get the full effect.

“it’s a bit short on you, huh?” virgil comments, already digging around in his breast pocket for the notepad he usually uses to take orders.

“i think it’ll look very audrey hepburn once we get the crinoline,” patton offers. “the flare skirt thing, y’know.”

virgil nods, jotting this down; as he is, he asks, absently, “logan, was it tight, loose, itchy, anything like that?”

“tight,” logan says immediately, “and a bit itchy.”

virgil’s brow furrows thoughtfully as he considers what to do about that—brick davis had already stopped by the diner to tell him their nickname they were going to use while they were considering other names to eventually adopt and show off their dress, and they had some sensory issues and had already told him that they loved the shape of the dress, but they already knew that if they could feel the itchy gemstones it would be enough to make them have sensory overload, so he was already brainstorming fixes for that—but he jots it down all the same, before reaching out to pinch at the skirt and lift it, then let it go, just to get a sense of how it moved.

“i mentioned earlier that it makes sense, since i was probably a foot shorter than he was when mom ordered that dress,” patton says. “but if there’s a way to just loosen it a bit, maybe, and make the flare skirt thing look more intentional?”

“that’ll all be in the,” he gestures, “crinoline, petticoat, whichever you get. a crinoline would probably be the better choice, if you really want the fifties vibe—logan, you’re cool with the fifties vibe?”

“fine by me,” logan’s voice floats from the couch, then, “how is this supposed to work?”

both patton and virgil glanced over in enough time to see logan holding up a high heel—white, of course, and very sensible-looking and, if virgil had to guess, three inches tall, maybe four, at the highest.

patton blinks. “putting them on already?”

logan shrugs, and says, intentionally casual, “if they take practice, why not start now?”

patton pauses, before he clears his throat and crosses the room, and says, “yeah, okay. do you need help?”

virgil crosses the room, too, if only to get a look at the dress from a full-view angle, and he hears a ka-CLUNK as logan staggers to his feet. he turns in enough time to see logan pinwheeling his arms wildly, and patton reaching out to balance him.

“whoa, easy,” patton says. “let’s not walk yet—”

“not that i didn’t before, but i now, truly, know that i never would have been cut out to do pointe with roman,” logan announces, arms stilling, but still held out for balance.

patton laughs. “there’s a bit of a difference there—he’s been on tip-toe since he was learning to walk, honey.”

“you wouldn’t let patton set you down on wet grass until you were three,” virgil points out, which is true—he and patton had laughed a lot back then as logan had avoided bare feet on grass at all costs, doing some interesting baby gymnastics in his attempts to avoid it.

“i hardly see what that has to do with my balancing capabilities,” logan mutters, a little embarrassed, the way a teenager always is whenever someone brings up baby stories.

“okay, speaking of tip-toe,” patton says, “you’re putting all your weight on your toes, you gotta let the heel touch the ground.”

virgil leans a little to see—and indeed, logan is balancing on his tiptoes, as high as he can, the white heel hovering off the ground. logan, slowly, lowers and lowers until the heel thumps as it hits the ground.

“good,” patton says, hand still on logan’s shoulder. “let’s just get used to how that feels, yeah?”

logan frowns. “the weight distribution is different than i expected. i thought it would all be in the toes, not in the—” he cuts himself off.

“heels?” patton finishes for him. “that’s all okay, just—i’ll let you know how to walk. but you’re kinda getting the feel for it? is it okay if i let you go now?”

logan nods his assent, so patton takes a step back—not far enough that he wouldn’t be able to lunge for logan if logan fell—and logan wobbles, just a little, but he manages to regain his balance quickly enough.

“they hurt,” logan says, frowning.

“toe-pinching like it’s too small, hurt, or—?”

“i think it’s my feet aren’t used to it hurt,” logan admits.

“that’s perfectly normal,” patton says. “your grandma used to tell me to throw on shoes super early so that my feet would get all nice and numb.”

“that’s sick,” logan says. “the patriarchy is evil.”

“amen, brother,” virgil says dryly.

logan preoccupies himself with shifting his bodyweight this way and that, trying to grow accustomed to it, so virgil goes over to inspect the dress a bit more—this dress, honestly, will probably be the most adjustment-intensive, so it’s probably good that it’s logan’s dress—half-listening to patton and logan discuss how logan should distribute his weight and any adjustments he might need to make to his posture and on and on.

considering patton was incredibly short, back then, it’s honestly probably a miracle that this dress even slightly fits logan well enough—and honestly, the fifties skirt effect would probably save virgil a lot of work, rather than spend any time on figuring out how exactly the lengthen the skirt to brush the floor. it’s not like virgil can really start any work right now, considering he really does need to have logan in the heels and crinoline to really get a feel for how the dress looks, but he can gather a few ideas on supplies he might need, fixes he could use for any potential problems.

it looks like his days are going to be filled with those kinds of questions for a while. brick davis wasn’t the only sideshire high student asking virgil to help with their dress; a large chunk of roman’s class had followed his lead, since, to virgil’s everlasting amusement while comparing him and remus, roman was a popular kid that people wanted to emulate, and roman’s friendship slash tutorship of all the students of isadora prince’s dance studio meant that there would also be an influx of tuxes—which, fortunately, were probably going to be way less labor-intensive than any of the dresses.

virgil’s busy jotting down things he might need to bring over or buy, not just for logan’s dress, but for all the dresses and tuxes of the sideshire kids, when patton says, “all right. walking time, do you think?”

“walking time,” logan agrees, with the grim, matter-of-fact determination of someone about to start to climb everest.

“okay. now, remember, let’s start with half-steps, slowly, we can work your way up to your usual walk slash pace,” patton says, and virgil glances up in enough time to see logan cautiously put a foot forward.

he wobbles, and patton lunges forward, catching his hands—”i gotcha, i gotcha,” patton says, a bit of a laugh in his voice, as logan sways his way back to a balanced stance. a stray thought tickles the back of virgil’s brain, but he can’t quite identify what it is before patton starts talking again.

“don’t walk heel-toe, i’m sorry, i should have mentioned that—try putting weight on your toes first.”

“okay,” logan says, and renews his grip on patton’s hands, before carefully stepping forward once again. the thought pings at virgil again, and his brow furrows, ever so slightly, trying to identify what it might be.

“that’s it,” patton says, encouragingly. “just like that! you’ll get the hang of it in no time.”

and that’s when the thought clicks into place—it’s déjà vu.

virgil’s brain flashes—logan, all of sixteen, not quite secure on his feet, but nevertheless trying to walk forward, patton moving backward with him, their hands clasped together.

it reminds virgil of logan learning how to walk.

and the mental image blooms into his mind, crystal clear, like it was yesterday; logan, all of ten months old, wearing his tiny overalls and his tiny t-shirt and his tiny little tennis shoes, mouth open and showing off all of his newly-grown baby teeth, tongue sticking out as he’d take one toddling step forward, two, patton kneeling on the black-and-white diner tile and saying in the exact same, near-laughing tone, that’s it, honey, that’s it! papa’s gotcha! c’mon, lo-lo, you got this! the sight of logan walking new enough that it was enough to stop twenty-three year old virgil in his tracks, watching eagle-eyed as patton shuffled backwards on his knees, eyes wide, encouraging and watchful, and so thrilled as logan babbled a stream of nonsense at him, stamping his way forward, hands wrapped around patton’s fingers.

and a laugh breaks through the memory, and suddenly he’s back in the present; virgil, all of thirty-nine, watching a nearly-full-grown logan, in his officious suit jacket and tie, struggling to take a few steps forward in his new high heels, brow furrowed still, but no childish urge to stick out his tongue; patton, taller, healthier, happier, overall, voice deeper but the tone’s still the same—absolutely thrilled at the concept of logan learning how to do anything, another milestone for logan to succeed in, another instance to celebrate.

virgil remembers, too, logan’s soft, chubby little baby hands, wrapped around virgil’s fingers, staggering toward him, the way virgil’s voice would get softer and how quickly it became second-nature to catch logan if he fell. logan’s shrieking laughs, logan’s babbling in his ear, logan’s cries going quiet when virgil shushed and rocked him. the sweet, babyish sigh logan would let out whenever he fell asleep against virgil’s chest; his head resting against virgil’s shoulder, his weight and warmth in virgil’s arms.

logan’s far too big for that now.

virgil’s heart pangs—when did they all get so old?—but especially at the sight of logan, almost an adult, taller than patton, nearly as tall as virgil, and almost as old as patton had been that day he’d crashed into the diner for the first time.

and now here he was; in high school, and preparing to be presented to society as an adult. granted, as somewhat of a prank. but the idea’s still there; logan is almost an adult. soon, logan would be making his way in the world.

soon, he wouldn’t need them to hold his hands.

“you got this!” patton cheers, as logan slowly, gradually, walks a lap of half-steps around the room without wobbling too much, without the fear of falling down. “you’re gonna be a heels-walking professional by the time of the debutante ball!”

virgil swallows, and echoes patton, voice perhaps a bit thicker than usual, “yeah, kid, you definitely got this.”

logan glances up from the ground to flash a quick smile in virgil’s direction, and virgil takes a deep breath before he crosses the room to take a look at how logan’s handling it; sure, patton had had walking-in-heels lessons, but virgil had definitely worn heels more recently than patton had.

and logan still needs them to hold his hands, for now. just a little while longer.

#anonymous #ask #my post #text #my fic #my fanfic #the sideshire files

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yinyangswings · 4 years

Photo

I’ve been working on this for awhile now, and finally it’s complete!! I wanted to draw my ideas, so I did. Anyhoo, here it is. It’s a little wordy so you can read more under the line

August Falke

I know August begins traveling with MC at the end of his route, but eventually I see him having like...three kids.

2 boys, 1 girl

The boys were born during their travels. The girl was born while visiting the Falke family, and she was born early.

That scares the crap out of August because he had taken the boys out exploring to give their mother some relaxing time, so MC’s water broke and he wasn’t there.

Thankfully, Asta is there and helps out while Heloise runs to find August.

That little girl has August and her brothers wrapped around her finger

All three of the kids love horses. August doesn’t see a problem in teaching them how to ride horses when they’re young. MC is a little more hesitant especially with their daughter when she’s younger.

Their oldest son takes great pride in looking after their siblings. He’s protective of his little brother and sister. August is immensely proud of him.

Nyx and Wyndsor are impromptu babysitters sometimes. Nyx is a little more strict than Wyndsor but is absolutely smitten with them.

On the road they are ambushed, and the kids are separated from their parents. Wyndsor and Nyx are thankfully with them, and the horses watch over them until August and MC locate them again.

The oldest boy as well as their daughter are interested in becoming knights. The youngest son is actually interested in following his grandparents shoes and becoming an inn-keeper.

Saerys

He has four kids; one boy, identical twin girls, and another little girl.

The oldest is nearly identical to his father and surprisingly shares Saerys’s eye colors. The girls are little copies of their mother. Their youngest girl is a mix between her parents.

The boy is very responsible and mature and is protective of his parents and siblings. One of the girl’s is very shy and quiet, while the other is very energetic, and adventurous. The youngest is very sweet and innocent.

Saerys cries when he holds all of them the first time. He had never thought he would have this or any of them for that matter.

They all have demon variant names. Some of them are a little more human like because of MC, but they all are demon-related names.

Saerys is incredibly protective of them, and when they were young, rarely let any of them out of his sight. MC would tease him a little bit, but understands his reasons

The girls are Saerys’s little shadows. Their oldest son is a mama’s boy, though he denies it all the time. The youngest girl is also totally a mama’s girl and clings to her whenever she can.

All four are snatched by slavers who can see a hefty profit out of several half-demons. Which is true...granted they did not account for nearly the entire group chasing after them. They’re greeted by two enraged and worried parents, several elves, nearly an army of humans, some of the demons from the village, and a whole lot more.

The kidnappers are lucky to be alive after all of that.

They love exploring and want to travel like their father and mother, though right now are content with remaining in the village.

Altea Bellerose

They adopt a little girl who has magic abilities. She is deaf as well, which is the main reason her parents abandoned her. She survived on the streets.

They find her abandoned in an alleyway, trying to get some food, accidentally surprising her. She lashes out with her magic out of instinct, though Altea easily deflects it. The child promptly collapses and the two women nurse her back to health.

When they find out she’s deaf, they start learning/teaching her sign language.

There is initially some trouble as the girl doesn’t completely understand why MC and Altea are being so protective of her, and she keeps expecting to get hurt or get into trouble because of her magic. Gradually the girl starts to warm up to them.

MC sees Helena quite a lot in the girl, a comparison that bothers Altea.

Altea’s parents aren’t exactly happy to meet her the first time, but they’re a little more receptive to her in comparison to when they first met MC.

Lional absolutely adores his little niece and is quick to try and learn sign language to talk to her. They become little partners in crime and tend to raid the kitchens for snacks

Her parents find out about her abilities and trick MC and Altea into thinking she managed to get lost several years ago and that they had been looking for her. Reluctantly, the two let her go home, though she’s incredibly upset about it.

She is very rebellious to her parents, refusing to use her magic for them, and the mother finally snaps and then promptly sells off to a slave trader.

When Altea and MC find this out, all hell breaks loose and the parents learn it’s not wise to trick a wizard. They nearly tear down the kingdom looking for her and when they do find her, scare the pants off of the trader into giving her back. Altea is the angriest of the two and wants to do far worse than just scaring him

They nurse her back to health (the slave trader was pushing her into using her magic till exhaustion)

They officially adopt her and Altea begins to teach her magic.

Reiner Wolfson

They have one girl who has dark hair like her mother (though if the sun hits it right, they can see her father’s red hair) and her father’s eye color

That little girl is Reiner’s world and MC cannot help but laugh whenever she sees Reiner with their daughter, because that man is so protective of her.

She’s a very gentle, kind girl who is always trying to help. She does tend to explore which gives her parents heart attacks, but she loves her parents a lot.

She loves listening as well as learning the piano with her father. When she was a baby, there were many nights that if neither MC or Reiner could calm her down, him playing the piano would make her settle incredibly quickly

When she gets a little older, some nobles comment on how much she looks like the Witch Queen and she would be a danger. She overhears and, not exactly understanding, asks Reiner and MC if she’s going to become the Witch Queen. That goes as well as expected.

Ryland is so happy about the kid and he’s super protective over her. She follows him and Solaria around when she’s not with her parents.

She is kidnapped by a woman whose daughter was killed during the war. Due to the girl looking similar to her daughter, she kidnaps the girl in the hopes of raising her. The girl manages to escape and hides in the forest where she meets a mysterious man who keeps her calm until she’s found by MC

She later tells MC that the man looked like Reiner, leading MC to believe it might have been Aldric’s spirit looking over his niece.

Sometimes MC wonders if Reiner’s family would have liked her, and Reiner is quick to say they would have adored the both of them.

Iseul Idreis

We already know of Iris, but I see them having at least two more. The middle child is a boy, while the youngest is non-binary.

Iris is very energetic and a bit of a troublemaker. Their son is a bit more reserved and quiet while the youngest is extremely loud and boisterous, but also hard-headed and has no qualms with arguing with their siblings.

The boy looks the most like MC, even though his ears are pointed, they aren’t as prominently elf looking as his siblings and father.

Iris and their sibling tend to tease him about it, not realizing at first how much it upsets him.

The youngest is closest to Iraia and constantly follows her around. Their son is close to his grandfather and grandmother, and enjoys being with them.

Iris likes to explore with her youngest sibling. Her brother tends to stay at home with his mother.

He’s a Mama’s boy.

One day the comments about their son’s looks prove too much for him and he runs away after having an argument with Iris.

They can’t find him for a while, much to MC, Iseul, and their family’s panic.

It’s late at night when Iseul and MC find him curled up in a tree. The parents have a conversation with their son, and learn about his insecurities about his ears and not looking ‘elf’ enough

Iseul and MC comfort him and tell him that there will always be people who will be cruel to him. But there will also be those who care for him, his family being a prime example. Even his siblings.

After the incident, Iris and their sibling try to curtail the teasing, knowing now how much it bothers him.

They visit Chicago a lot and the kids enjoy exploring the city and want to see more of that world eventually. Something MC is happy to do.

Helena Klein

They have one son, who they name Alain. He is conceived via in-vitro fertilization. Helena’s egg is inseminated and MC carries him.

He looks like a mini-Helena

Both MC and Helena are protective of him, though Helena is much more than MC.

All Helena can see is her childhood and she doesn’t want her son to feel the same way.

Living in Chicago has its own set of problems that the mother’s have to deal with, mainly people not seeing one or the other women as the boy’s mother. It drives Helena mad, and annoys MC quite a lot.

Every milestone is a miracle to Helena, who didn’t think this would ever happen in her life.

She didn’t think she would be allowed to be this happy.

They tell him the story of how they met. Whether or not he’ll continue to believe it when he gets older will remain unknown, but he loves thinking about how his Mommy’s met in such a fantasy way

Helena has many nightmares of her child being taken from her or hurt, or something going wrong and him hating her. MC has to comfort her a lot and their son comforts her just as much.

He gets lost one time while out with his mothers. Helena is frantic in trying to find him. When they do, she refuses to let him go for quite awhile.

That is Helena’s baby boy...and nothing is going to take that away from her.

Alain Richter

They have two little girls that Alain just adores. Their oldest daughter takes after her mother, while the youngest takes after her father in looks.

After their second daughter, MC asks hesitantly if he’s disappointed that he hasn’t had a son. Alain looks stunned and quickly tells MC that he’s happy with his two daughters

And he is. Those two little girls are his life and he is protective over them. He rarely lets them out of his sight, terrified that someone would try and take his daughters, either for revenge or just because they're precious and beautiful.

He has nightmares a lot when they’re younger. That they’re going to die or be taken away from him because of what he’s done in the past. That he doesn’t deserve to be happy.

When their first daughter is born, any sound has him running to check on her and he rarely lets her out of his sight when she starts walking. He’s calmed a little by the time their second daughter is born, but only a little

He generally doesn’t like them out of his sight, something MC understands, though she is quick to tell him that they’ll need to spread their wings and leave the nest eventually. Which he agrees...albeit it is very reluctantly.

Both of them love horses, and Nyx is very much spoiled by those two girls. Alain jokes that she loves those girls more than him now.

He’s probably not wrong

Some of Lennox’s cult members ambush Alain and the girls while they are out, taking the girls in the hopes of reviving the WQ through the eldest. Alain is captured as well and is beaten quite severely as he tries to protect his daughters.

Cue MC arriving, incredibly pissed off that her husband and children are kidnapped. It doesn’t get any better when she sees the state of her husband and her two petrified daughters.

It’s the first time in a long time that she felt the closest to being like the WQ.

When her husband and children are back and safe is when she finally relaxes and she curls up to them, relieved that they are safe.

They also swear to always be there for their children and make sure they don’t fall into evil and darkness like the WQ.

Both MC and Alain make a promise to themselves if either of the kids have magic to make sure they’re trained and that they are loved.

#love and legends #love and legends headcanons #august falke #saerys #altea bellerose #isuel idreis #helena klein #alain richter #reiner wolfson #lovestruck #lovestruck headcanons #jamfics

149 notes · View notes

shinahbee · 4 years

Text

January Favorites 2021!

GREETINGS

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February 06. 2021

Hello,

I actually wrote a lot for this month, perfect way to start off the new year! I have been catching up and watching some dramas and some of the new anime this season, which i’ll discuss a few down below. I’m just realizing that the manhwa recommendations list is growing very long and it reading those titles that i have discussed made me reminisce on some of them and most of which I would re read again. I tried to read some shoujo manga again and thought the stories were shit, so i don’t think i’ll ever go back. I’m thinking of starting some shoujo manhwa’s because I have a few titles that seemed like they might have an interesting plot line. I’ll list in in my favorites if I do end up reading those, but so far i’m still filtering the BL titles .lol.

I’m just going to put this out there now before you read the “Hell segment” I mentioned a few titles that were popular that i dropped and I listed the reasons why i dropped it, they are popular for a reason and if you like that and don’t take the plot line too seriously then that’s on you, but i don’t like the subject matter being glorified rather than “lesson learned” if you know what i’m saying so take my comments down there with a grain of salt...it’s just how i read it and interpreted the subject matter, it has nothing to do with the creator and their thoughts. This is going to apply to all of my reviews, they are just my opinions only so don't take what i say seriously if it you are offended that i happen to diss your favorite manga.

Anyways, i have no music recommendations this month all i have been listening to is podcasts, so listening to people talk about nothing.lol. That’s what my life has come to...

If you would like I can share a few that I have been listening to, let me know.

Alright, you all have a lot to read to i’ll just end here.

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MANHWA/MANGA/WEBTOONS

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Recap:

Whose baby is it? (ongoing)

Social temperature (ongoing)

Salad days (ongoing)

To be or not to be (ongoing)

Path to you (completed)

Here u are (completed)

BJ alex (completed)

No way, vampires don't exist (ongoing)

Unintentional love story (ongoing)

Karasugoka don’t be shy! (Completed)

Semantic Error (ongoing)

Tied up in Twins (Completed)

My Suha (ongoing)

Crash into me (Completed)

Dine with a vampire (ongoing)

So crash into you is now finished and you can now read the entire thing, so happy it ended really well and of course if you have seen my last favorites journal I made and entire post dedicated to this manhwa. The story is really heart breaking and definitely deals with more adult and mature content and it really is disturbing in some parts, so viewer discretion is advised.

That’s all i have to announce as an update, the rest is still ongoing. This month I came up with certain themes for my hell segment, last month I started with some manhwa that all had a common theme of Scum antagonists that you will run into when reading these manhwa, some of which ranges from mild inconvenience to this piece of shit should be set on fire. If you have not read that please check it out and watch me rant about stupid people.

This week featured another theme that you will run into reading shounen ai/ yaoi manhwa and manga, it’s a very universal theme of “threesomes”...I don’t get it, I don’t get why people think that’s okay to have three dicks in a room...i’m like there’s three dicks here, that’s way too many..lol. to each their own I guess, but i’ve selected three to talk about that also deals with mature themes and a bunch of people making poor decisions.

But before that, let’s talk about the normal shounen ai manhwa/manga that I have to recommend this month.

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Welcome to heaven

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1) Inner Beauty:

“Minjae’s been dumped. Fed up with their long distance relationship, his actress girlfriend Hye-Eun left him while he was “finding himself” in Australia. When Minjae rushes home and runs into Hye-Eun and her gorgeous new man, Woochan, at the airport, drama ensues. Amidst the chaos, the two love rivals bang heads. Upon waking, they discover they’ve changed bodies! Why have they switched? How will they cope? Will they ever be able to go back? Find out as Minjae and Woochan embark on a journey that takes “self-discovery” to a whole new level!”

Firstly this reminded me of the k-drama secret garden, if you have seen it you know that the main protagonists switched bodies at some point and with this manhwa, it happens in the first chapter. I liked how the relationship between the two boys started with minjae’s girlfriend leaving him for another man woochan, and after minjae and woochan switched bodies because he wanted to give the girlfriend a necklace as a gift , he switched bodies with woochan after bumping into him. They went to a shaman to seek out various ways to get back into their bodies while they find out things about each other that they were not aware of, in the end minjae and woochan were drawn to each other. The necklace is a tribal ornament that has a mysterious power to show a person’s past through their dreams. It seems that the reason why their bodies keep switching was because there was another necklace that was similar that was supposed to be it's partner; they go a try to search for the mysterious phenomenon surrounding the necklace that leads to their relationships with other people changing.

my favorite part of this story is that woochan and his father didn't get along very well because of a misunderstanding, while other parents didn't admit to their mistakes, woochan's father wanted to do so and repair his relationship with woochan, which made the story more compelling. Theres so many manga plot lines whee the parent is abusive and harsh and never did they think it was thier fault, but in this story woochan's father mans up to the things he did and how it affected woochan and i'm really happy about that.

Another thing I like about this story is the end where woochan who was an actor turned director made a film about his and minjae’s relationship because he wanted their story to be remembered and inspire other relationships that were similar to their own to overcome their hardships. This story has so much meaning and it’s something I would recommend to anyone who just likes a good story.

2) False Memories (lee gpiee):

” Wan’s got a face that scares everyone away before he can really become friends with anyone. So when Ha-woon befriends Wan on his first day at his new school, Wan is elated. Ha-woon must be an angel! It doesn’t take long, though, for Ha-woon to betray him in a terrible way, and Wan discovers Ha-woon might be more devil than angel. But then an accident happens that gives Wan a second chance at friendship with his angel. And it all starts with one big, fat lie.”

This one is really interesting, it is about a boy named wan and he was the new transfer student at a new school and how despite how he looks he wanted make friends this time around. Hawoon met wan when he was climbed off of a tree and fell on him, he immediately took a liking to him and befriended him, being very grateful to have finally met a friend he wanted to be a very likable person to hawoon, but then it was discovered that hawoon had many secrets and is not the kind person he is portrayed to be. There was an incident where one of his followers was spying on him and he wanted wan to essentially beat that person up in front of his other gang members. Obviously wan didn’t want that and this caused some strife between the two of them and wan began to be bullied by hawoon and his gang members. Later hawoon was trying to escape from his brother who went to his apartment to look for him and ran into wan who hides him over night, things tooka turn for the worse when hawoon thinks wan is being really nosy about his business and pushes him away and that is when the guy who hawoon wanted to beat up his him on the head and hawoon woke up with amnesia. Being the only person who had witnessed that, wan brought hawoon back to his place, when hawoon woke up with no previous memories of wan he lied to him claiming to be his best friend and the tow of them started to pursue this new friendship, of course things don’t last forever and the both of them discovered that hawoon in fact had many secrets that he preferred to keep under wraps especially about his family.

I know a lot of comments have said that it was stupid to lie to him about being friends but I understand that it was wan’s way to know the real hawoon. Hawoon’s personality was built by the lack of trust he has received from people and he was never able to open up to a person about anything. I really liked how the incident ended up saving their relationship in the end and they have a lot of cute moments together while going from being friends to being in love with each other. This is a very wholesome story and if you like that plot you will like this story, it really is not complicated.

3) Hand in Hand:

“While running a small pharmacy in the outskirts of the city, Sam meets a mysterious and out of place patient. This man named noah who was covered in bruises every time he had stopped by the pharmacy, Sam noticed that he seems to be in worse shape every time they meet and became curious as to why that might be, one day he saw noah getting into a shady van with a bunch of people and discovered that this town had a secret that kept everyone involved very secretive. Noah who was discovered to be a part of that society still goes and sees sam in order to be close to him, sam was then reeled into his world and became part of that society that was kept hidden.”

Sorry I had to write that summary on my own cause I could not find a good summary, so basically the pharmacy was inherited by Sam when his father passed away in this small town, there was no one to take over for him so Sam had to give up his dream of staying away from this town to moving back to take over the family business, There one night upon closing he meets a man covered in bruises while coming in to buy some alcohol and cigarettes, he treated him because it looked painful and was curious about him,

This curiosity escalated when he saw him get into a van with a bunch of ugly dudes, the pharmacy assistant said that there were gangs running around and it was best to avoid these people. Sam made the assumption that it was these men that were beating that man up and decided to pull him away from them. Noah then introduced himself to sam as they walk back to noahs apartment and he showed some interest in sam and asked what he wanted as payment for his treatment, Sam of course didn’t want anything which made noah surprised, but relayed to him that the offer still stands when he feel like telling him.

Not only being curious that noah shows up in front of him each time with more bruises but the fact that he may have discovered the town had a secret.

It was in fact an underground gambling scene that caused a lot of people to be very irritable, noah was involved in this and called it “work” as he had a debt to pay back to the person that took him in. Sam didn’t want to be involved but because of his interest in noah the two of them became romantically involved upon a few meetings and Sam started to develop feelings for him and likewise noah was in love with Sam. I’m not going to spoil the end because it was really intense, if you like mysterious plot points to your story this one will do the trick, it will keep you guessing as to what will happen next.

4) Stanning 101:

“Ji-Yul Park is an ordinary office worker who spends his spare time stanning a boy group, unlock and more specifically it’s leader, Jay.One day, he time travels back to his past where he encounters Juno, another idol and becomes his manager.What happenes when Juno develops feelings for Ji-Yul? Would Ji-Yul choose loyalty with Juno or his fanboy fantasy with Jay? And what is the purpose for Ji-Yul traveling back to the past-what is he supposed to repair or change?”

I’m not going to lie this title...don’t let it fool you, I thought this was going to be a satire on the whole K-pop fandom and just a story poking fun at k-pop fans...but boy was I fooled..LOL. This summary doesn’t even begin to describe how deep this story goes.

So as the summary says it’s about a fan named ji yul who is a stan of a group called “unlock” and his favorite member Jay was going to leave for military service and he was really bummed about not being able to see him for a while, so he went out drinking with his friends who share the same interest and cried his eyes out wishing that he could go back to the time when jay and his group first debuted.

And of course....that happened some how he was enabled into a time skip backwards to when the group first debuted. He first met up with a roommate that he was going to be sharing a room with, this was none other than juno a trainee a small company, Juno was a sensation later on in history and he was a rival of the unlock, and of course being a stand of jay he didn’t like the idea of being around juno. Upon meeting ji yul was already drunk and the next morning found juno and him had slept on the same bed, this made things between them awkward. But upon a series of events he became juno’s manager and inevitably began to understand the person juno is and how hard he worked, as well as his ties with jay. While trying to figure out what was the reason for the time skip he met another person who was sent back to the same time for a different reason his name was suho, and suho was here for another person named rose who was a in a different group. Rose is a sunbae of Juno’s and the two of them are acquainted, But there was something about Rose that was alluring and that made his “ sponsors” want to see him all the time, this lead to a lot of conflict within his group, saying that he’s the kind of person who would sleep around with anyone that has money.

Suho was a fan of rose and the reason he came back was because in his time he had found out that Rose had committed suicide, now....this is a topic that i feel very strongly about as you may know if you listen to k-pop news there are certain group members from famous groups that have committed suicide as of late, a lot of which was diagnosis of depression,

This story deals with not only suho having had gone through depression and suicide attempts but Rose who was going through that as well, Suho wanted to make sure rose stays alive, so when he was able to meet him he did all he can to be beside him and get him away from these sponsors that clearly only want one thing from him. This had made rose and suho close enough to develop romantic feelings towards each other, it gave rose the courage to confront the ceo from the company. In the end the company ceo was being a dick and tried to force rose to sleep with these people in order to get chances to be on screen and promote their group. One of their members knew from the start what rose had to go through and after rose was being hunted down by the ceo after disappearing, the member took footage from the ceo of all the nasty things he made rose do and gave it to Suho? I don’t remember this part well, but suho somehow go the usb footage and saw that rose had been sexually abused and assaulted by those men. Rose had went to see suho at the time and saw that he found the footage, at that moment he wanted to jump off the railings because he felt ashamed, but suho explained that it was rose’s music that saved him from doing the same thing he tried to do which was of course suicide.

Needless to say, at least in this story suho’s love for rose was able to keep him alive and as soon as suho w able to convey that he had disappeared and asked rose to find him in the future. I chose to write about Suho’s story because I just want to put it out there that suicide and depression are real struggles and to please seek help as soon as you can. Back to ji yul and juno, they in fact had developed feelings for each other and ji yul was sent back because he was in car accident with juno and in the both of them lost their memory of each other that was why ji yul only remembered Jay and being a fan of unlock while not remembering the times he shared with juno and how much he loved him. This made. He was able to tell juno after some time that he is in fact from the future and the both of them tried different ways to preserve the time that they had before ji yul would be sent back. Ji yul tried to defy fate but it turns out the accident happened to juno being in the car without having him there, meaning things will still take its course and you can cheat fate. So ji yul grabbed juno who was still unconscious and put him into the passenger’s seat and said his goodbyes to him, wishing for them to meet again even though knowing that it could be impossible for them to be together in the future he drove into the upcoming traffic. Ji yul woke up again back in the time he belonged the only thing he can remember was seeing juno’s picture in front of him and tears leaving his eyes.

Omg this is a k-drama all in one package, this is where i’ll stop because the manhwa is not finished, so if you liked my summary of it so far please read the actual thing, you will not be disappointed, I promise you.

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Welcome to hell

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I don’t know how to begin this segment after writing all of that for the heaven’s segment, those stories were just so good compared to the trash that i’m about to share here. But most of the trashiest stories have more complex plot points than normal stories. I mean you need to go through hell to come out the other side right?

*warning* this section talks about mature content! 18+ only, read at your own risk!

Let’s begin then.

1) Private lessons:

“Hajoon has been crushing on Eun-woo ever since they started college together, but he hasn’t had any opportunities to get close with him. At least they have a class together this semester: a lecture taught by the popular Professor Seo Joohyuk. Hours after the first class, Hajoon remembers he left his assignments in the classroom. Upon reaching the lecture hall, he becomes witness and accomplice to a series of private lessons Joo-hyuk is giving Eun-woo—lessons that unleash his own deepest, riskiest desires.”

I’m starting off strong ...oh where to begin? This story has so many messed up characters, I’d have to say all three of them are messed up. Firstly I don’t care if your professor looks like a dilf (urban dictionary if you don’t know what it means) you should never get involved with them. Lol. And I don’t know what school you people go to to have professors that look like this...all of mine were crusty old men who were mean and arrogant.

I makes me sick to think that there are some older men that would take advantage of people like the way Joohyuk did with Eunwoo and Hajoon. Hajoon just wanted to get Eunwoo’s attention, but because of joohyuk, he took “notice me senpai” to the next level. but I guess i understand from hajoon’s point of view that if he does nothing, he will never be change his relationship, so if he liked him then getting involve would be a way in. Eunwoo was so enthralled with joohyuk that he would just be a sex partner knowing that he would never have potential feelings for him in the end. I did feel sorry for him at first but then there was this part in the story where they were all preparing for this festival thing and he and hajoon were in a group and had to be waiters for the night of the festival, this was when eunwoo started to somewhat show interest in hajoon. Then that fricken dilf was like “you’re doing things on your own and i’m going to show you why you shouldn’t defy me...” or something like that, asserting dominance saying that eunwoo would always choose me over you to hajoon, and indeed on the night of the festival when he was supposed to work, shit went down between hajoon and this senior and fight broke out while hajoon was defending eunwoo , only later to find out that eunwoo was screwing the dilf in his office while all this was going on, I think i felt my veins snap...this idiot had the audacity to f around with that dilf while hajoon was working his ass off and even defended him. Smh....anyways in the end Eunwoo fell in love with hajoon and gave up on his feelings over joohyuk, knowing that joohyuk will always look at his other partner seojin. So in the end it worked out, but this whole story is a dumpster fire of trash.

So moral of this story is don’t get involved with dilfs, don't simp for them...lol. Just don’t do it. I don’t recommend this story for the content but if you are into trash and BDSM, then maybe this is the one for you.

2) Behind the scenes:

“Korea’s hunkiest top model Woo Taeyoung has decided to try his hand at acting once more. No more of those teen heartthrob roles, Taeyoung has his eyes set on a much more…mature role. And when he finds out his idol, the dreamy Koo Min-ki, is set to be one of the main actors of the film, he is even more determined to get the role as his co-star. The two seem to have a natural chemistry with each other…both on and off screen. Will this end up helping their performances? Or will it cause their worlds to come crashing down?”

This story is a also a dumpster fire of flaming garbage, it starts off with a model turned actor named taeyoung who works mainly as a model but is secretly a fan boy of another famous actor named minki and he went to his fan signing in disguise, only to be discovered by the fans and cause a racket and minki ended up injuring himself. This caused taeyoung to be able to meet minki in the most embarrassing way, but he wanted to make it up to him by helping him until his injury was recovered. One night minki was driven home by taeyoung and they ran into another popular actor named wonho...(monsta x..lol. i’m so kidding don't kill me...) and this dude saw minki coming out of taeyoung’s car and immediately became violent...

there it is red flag!

Turns out wonho was minks boyfriend, taeyoung only knew that his favorite actor minki was in a 10 year long relationship with his girlfriend, says the media, but he didn’t know that it was a man...and this violent piece of shit at that. Taeyoung had heard rumors of wonho being excessively violent to anyone who comes near minki and anyone who has worked with him always was threatened by wonho. So even though taeyoung reluctantly left minki with wonho he still was really worried, rightfully so.

Wonho is the worst kind of garbage out there; even being in a relationship he still forced minki into having sex with him. This is rape, even if you are in a relationship it means the same thing it’s non consensual and disgusting. Not only this but being violent to everyone that is near minki, is enough for anyone to end this relationship. But minki was that idiot who believed that the old wonho he once knew would come back one day and so this ongoing relationship abuse lasted for a long time. Taeyoung of course got an opportunity to make his acting debut, and auditioned for the of minki’s character’s lover, it was the first queer film in production so to the director it was a passion project that he wanted to see succeed. He passed the audition and showed his potential and chemistry with minki on screen very well, so the director was happy casting him in the role. But of course guess who finds out and showed up on the film set...wonho. He obviously made minki uncomfortable and also taeyoung, but in series of events taeyoung went to the bathroom and found wonho and minki making out inside and realized the person he admired was gay and was in a relationship with wonho for a long time. Later on he got to know minki more and found that he had romantic feelings towards him rather than just admiration. Because minki and wonho’s relationship was abusive minki was contemplating on ending it but didn’t have the courage to, it was taeyoung who showed genuine feelings for minki that was able to push minki to move forward. So while this was going on, wonho was in fact being sponsored by a certain person in order to get roles in his acting career, this person was taeyoung’s cousin...yeah i know messed up,. This dude is very toxic and made things go wrong between wonho and minki and that’s how their relationship went downhill for 10 years. Anyways to sum it all up a lot of stuff went down and wonho’s actions were no longer acceptable and as soon as minki found out this ongoing sexual relationship between wonho and taeyoung’s cousin, he broke it off with him finally and moved around different places for a while since wonho would not leave his apartment he couldn’t go back. Taeyoung and minki ended up dating each other now and he succeeded as a model turned actor with this role. Wonho after a series of events was able to let minki go after seeing him one last time and apologizing for everything he’s done to him. The movie was very successful and won many awards and the ending of the series just showed taeyoung and minki talking about their relationship on screen and off screen to the viewers...hence the title “behind the scenes”

Okay this trash made me angry and sad at the same time since it talked about a relationship that has gone bad and two people refusing to leave it since they have been together for a long time. You know when you should end things and if a person starts to change there is no way for them to be the same again. So all in all this story is really good for depicting all sorts of relationship issues and drama. I would say yes give this read because the story itself says a lot about the writer and how they think. This is one of those stories the pull you into the depths of hell and once you resurface your see things in a different perspective.

3) Turn off the camera:

“Yeon Jihoon is the leader of an idol group that’s hit a dead-end in their career. Now, he’s received a golden opportunity to save his group: a spot on the year’s most anticipated reality show, where he’ll spend two weeks living and filming with top stars Do Yoojin and Seon Yohan. The one threat to the show’s success? Yoojin and Yohan won’t stop having sex with each other. To stop a scandal from tanking the show and his career, Jihoon must keep his co-stars’ antics hidden from the cameras at all costs. Will Jihoon be able to keep these steamy shenanigans a secret for two weeks? And will he survive when both of his co-stars turn their attention on him?”

This is some straight up kinky garbage, like the description says, jihoon got the opportunity to promote his group by becoming a member in an upcoming reality show with two popular actors, the show is a reality show of the three of them living together doing daily activities while cameras are installed in their home. You can see where this is going right? When jihoon first arrived into the house to greet the other two actors; yoojin and yohan and he found the two of them in a room having doing sexual acts and even tried to cover for them when the camera crew arrived up stairs in the room.

After several attempts of the other two actors having sex at different points in time jihoon became very aware of the fact that they were doing this for the fun of not being able to get caught having sex on camera. So basically this was like a fun game to the two actors.

Yoojin and yohan were caught the third time by jihoon while having sex on the kitchen table and so the three of them had a discussion and jihoon made them sign an agreement not to touch him...of course that didn’t work and he was caught in unfortunate circumstances surrounding the both of them, to the point where both sex partners started to want to pursue jihoon for themselves.lol

This manhwa is just straight up kinky trash, it is meant to be a satire on three some relationships and not meant to be taken seriously, so just going by that, there’s not much point to the story, it’s not in depth it’s just interesting to watch jihoon reject these actors advances in order to save his virginity.lol. I feel like from the recent chapters jihoon maybe more interested in yoojin than yohan so i’m waiting to see if yohan even has a chance to be on jihoon’s radar.

This is still ongoing and it only has 20 chapters so far so i don’t have that much to say about it, this was just something really normal in terms of yaoi to read while I was reading some dark stories, the art is really nice too if that is of any interest to you.

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So there are a couple of series that are quite popular that I have left out because I have dropped then fairly early on. one series called “Hate or Love” which i started a while back then and didn’t like the whole plot of having an abusive sibling forcing another sibling into a sexual relationship... i’m like nope...

This manhwa should have just been called “ Domestic boyfriend” I would have avoided it all together, because I have read “Domestic girlfriend” it is essentially the theme, and a giant dumpster fire of flaming garbage.

The main reason i stopped it was because the other person that I was hoping the main guy would end up with didn’t end up as the “ winner” well from what the comments said anyways, cause i stopped fairly early on when i found out the guy i liked was not going to be the end game, that makes me sad cause from the early chapters that i have read, there was a lot of sexual tension between the two of them and I was hoping this author would not push abusive sibling relationship as the plot...but looks like she did ...and i don’t care for it and find it gross...but that’s my morals, even if they were not siblings by blood they grew up together as siblings...that’s still vastly inappropriate. I'm used to it since I grew up with Japanese anime and manga with incest themes, but it still bothers me.... Vampire knight...

Even if they were not even related, i still would not like that red haired dude regardless cause his character seems like a dick, and i don’t think he suffered enough consequences for his actions to make him a redeemable character in my opinion. And also...out of 7 billion people on this earth, you would rather be with your brother...smh.

Also if we are talking about using sibling relationships in a sexual way as a plot line, then how i interpret this manhwa is that it is focused on more of glorifying abuse and sexual relations between siblings rather than making the subject matter more serious, if you know what I mean. But to each their own if you just read it because it interests you then feel free to do so, i’m not interested and decided to just drop it early on.

The other one is called “ Yours to claim” another popular series but again I don’t like dark haired dude, I think he’s a dick and if it was me I’d choose the blonde guy, he seems like he would be a person that would treat me better. I just don’t understand the appeal of being treated like shit by people, if anyone treats you like that...please dump their ass! Because It’s not okay! Both of these have the “ other guy “ as the better option for a potential relationship but they always choose the other messed up abusive/ bad boy and i just don’t why...i just feel disappointed but literally not surprised since it’s an ongoing trope in any sort of romance based media.

But needless to say there is nothing for us as the audience to do but to read them, we don't make any calls on who the person ends up with and the plot lines that happen in the story, so that is that i guess.

I’m having a mental breakdown just thinking about these two series, i included then briefly cause they fall into this weeks’ theme of trash.

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MUSIC

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Nothing special to share in this department this month, mostly listening to podcasts .lol.

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K-DRAMAS/SHOWS

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The tale of nokdu:

I described this drama as the mulan reversal, if you know the story of mulan, she dresses up as a man and goes into the imperial army camp to fight in the war in place of her father, nokdu is an adopted child that was suddenly hunted down by a bunch of assassins one day and instead of fleeing with his father and older brother he decided to follow the assassin into the city since he was able to injure them in the leg. He followed the assassin into town and was almost able to catch them when he was suddenly arrested from a disturbance another young man in town has caused. Later he found out that the assassin was heading to a village that was out of sight and exclusively to women, in order for him to go in he would need to dress up as a woman, the opportunity arose when he helped a young woman escape from the village with her husband and she gave him her clothes in exchange for his to escape. He then infiltrates the village and now has to chase after the assassin and try to kill the mastermind behind the assault on his family. But what he discovers was more than what it seems. This is 16 episodes and is completed if you want to watch it; I recommend it since its really good.

True beauty:

Everyone and their mother is watching this web toon turned drama, I say this cause my sister who gave up watching any k-dramas watched this one and read it...this is something, she doesn’t like a lot of things so i decided to watch it after she told me it was good. I watched it and I didn’t like it mainly because the problems in here is very much a young adult type of problem, like having acne and having to deal with bullies at school, these are all problems you mainly deal with when younger so none of this drama is relatable so I didn’t enjoy it. If you like the high school romance drama setting you might like this, but I have watched so much more meaningful dramas, this doesn’t do it for me.

That’s all the dramas I have watched so far, I mainly have been listening to podcasts instead of watching anything, I find it hard to find an interesting drama to watch these days, I have been enjoying listening to people talk about nothing lol.

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ANIME

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Haikyuu:

Finished Haikyuu season 4 part 2, I left this for a while so that all the episodes were finished and every time I watch it i gives me the same feeling every time. This part focuses on a lot of characters that were not fully flushed out in the first few seasons, like tanaka and nishinoya and one of the bench players...i forgot his name. I really like their portrayal of hinata this season he really is the saving grace of karasuno, not because of his obscure skills in volleyball or incredible stamina but because he’s playing volleyball because he loves it and it is fun even if the stakes are high. I feel a lot of the players here this season were so stressed they forgot that the game is supposed to be fun, and he keeps reminding them that it is what it is and that they should live in the moment. I loved seeing that develop in his character because i feel like there was too much focused on kageyama for a while and I wanted to see more of hinata’s growth.

So I was pleased with season 4 and I can’t wait to see more, haikyuu is really one of those anime that people are widely talking about now and it really is well deserved.

Skate the infinity:

Another sports anime about skate boarding, the animation is really nice and art style is really beautiful. I know there are so many sports anime out there now but this one is really interesting, I like the relationship between the two main characters reki and langa, it reminds me of the friendship between riku and sora in Kingdom hearts, reki teaches langa how to skate board from scratch and langa being a previous snow boarder was able to race one of the best contenders in the underground skating rink and beat them in a match but of course he isn’t a genius so he wanted to learn everything from the ground up since he thought it was fun. Lol. I like seeing the progress so far in their skating journey, this anime is really wholesome.

Dr. Ramune mysterious disease specialist:

This is a very satire anime, It is really comedic and deals with a doctor treating weird diseases, like the first episode there was a girl with a disease that made her cry out condiments as tears. It's actually very interesting in terms of the types of diseases they treat in each episode and how he uses these magical items to do so, that is a really bad explanation for this show but please watch it .It’s interesting so far and I’ll write more as it finishes.

so as a finishing statement, I hope you all enjoyed the favorites for January, I have been able to catch up on a lot of things which is why I have so many things to talk about this month, I already have the next theme for the Hell segment planed out for next month, so I can't wait to share that, if you like the manhwa recommendations and my excessive ranting so far.

until then. please take care of yourself and your love ones ! lunar new years is coming up, have a great year and I hope 2021 will be a lot better please follow me on my social media listed below if you'd like

thanks!

sheena

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SOCIAL MEDIA

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Instagram: shinb_art

Tumblr: shinahbee

Deviantart: she-be.deviantart.com

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thathawaiianchick · 5 years

Text

my wolfstar fic recc

29 of my favs, plus 2 comics :)

sorted from shortest to longest, series at the bottom

i like long fics, i like raising Harry AUs, i like Lay Low at Lupin’s fics, i like marauder era “we’re 70′s trash fics”, i like angst, but i also love “everybody lives”, kind of a mix of everything but seriously a lot of raising Harry AUs because it fills a need i guess

some super popular, some relative unknowns i think

all fics that characterize wolfstar for me :)

JKR has disappointed me supremely, but fan works will hold my love forever

part 2 because i forgot some

STANDALONES

1. A Day Like Any Other by dustmouth

(a comic, not really a fic, just hosted on AO3)

The one where Sirius keeps receiving unwanted mail, Remus drinks a lot of tea, Peter's out on a hot date, and James is offering unwanted make overs.

(Or the answer to the question of exactly how many cursed letters can you flush down the loo).

2. To Keep a Star by dustmouth

(a comic, not really a fic, just hosted on AO3)

Daily life in the Intergalactic Postal Service. Or the one where Sirius is a postal star and Remus lives on a spaceship.

3. in your bedroom, during the war by lupinely

There’s the bed, there’s the room, and there’s Remus. This, at least, Sirius knows for sure. (4Kish)

4. Home We’ll Go by appalachian_fireflies

"I can't, I don't know how," Remus stuttered as Molly dropped the infant into his arms, who immediately ceased crying and stared up at him with wide eyes.

"Nonsense," Molly said. "Be a dear and keep him from falling while I feed Ginny."

"Ba!" Ron giggled, and slapped Remus in the face.

Molly is the emergency contact for the Order when those listed can no longer be reached. Remus' life finds a different path. (10K)

5. A Store of Happiness by coyotesuspect

Harry spends the summer after his third year living with Sirius and Professor Lupin. (10K)

6. In The Bed by bigblackdog

Left to his own devices the summer after the prank, Sirius crafts an unusual gift to mend his relationship with Remus. (11K)

7. Vigil Strange I Kept by whitmans_kiss

Remus' lycanthropy has caused his body to seriously deteriorate over the years due to the constant stress of the transformations, and by his fifty-sixth birthday, it's certain that he won't live to finish out the year. However, a cure has recently been discovered - but what if the cure is just as bad as the disease? (11K)

8. Elucidation Practice by montparnasse

Christmas, 1978. Remus, wrestling with the mighty problems of gift-giving on a budget, contemplates life, love, London in winter, and falling off the edge of the world with Sirius Black. (21K)

9. On a Windswept Cliff by starfishstar

On the cliff top where the fearsome Lord Black once stalked, an outcast man meets a big black dog, and things are not as they seem.

Or: The Remus/Sirius gothic romance AU. (21K)

10. Lethe and Mnemosyne by montparnasse

Winter '79. Looking to get out from under the black-hole overhang of wartime, Sirius and Remus take off to play house on the Cornish moors. It goes downhill from there. (26K)

11. Purity by FelisA

Sirius resurrection fic. (27K) 12. Common Woodbrown by imochan

Look well into thyself; there is a source of strength which will always spring up if thou wilt always look there. In 1985, Remus Lupin realizes that Sirius Black is innocent. Now, he just has to prove it. (36K)

13. Wilde and Whimsy by chasing bluefish, obsob

In a world where Dumbledore defeated Voldemort during the first war, the wizarding community is picking up the pieces and getting back to their lives. Remus Lupin becomes a person of interest in a murder at the bookshop where he works and Sirius Black and James Potter, aurors, are sent to investigate. As they navigate the crime itself, Remus and Sirius realize that there is something to their instant chemistry. But they need to keep their newfound attraction under wraps while trying to find the killer and stop them from claiming more victims. (36K)

14. Paper Wings by Krislaughs

(not hosted on ao3)

What if Sirius Black sent a final message from Azkaban? Enter the home of the last Marauder in the days following Voldemort’s downfall. Lost and alone, Remus asks a question of the void, a question whose answer will send him around the world. Meeting puppies, Kneazles, dementors, and nomads, Remus learns more about himself and his friends than he ever thought possible. Learn the secrets of the Marauder’s map and the world’s best chocolate, how various Death Eaters occupied themselves after the fall of their lord, and why you should never leave Remembralls lying around.

15. Uncreated Night by earlybloomingparentheses

Remus can drift through whole worlds in his own mind. Sirius lives in his body, electric, ablaze. In 1979 and 1996 and 1978 and 1981 and in many other years and many different places, they search for the bridges between them and the spaces they can share. Time after time, they fight their way back together, head and heart, mind and body.

And in 1998, Remus stands before the veil, wondering if he should finally stop thinking, and just act. (41.5K)

16. Lemon Chiffon Yellow by Spklvr

An unplanned night between Remus and Tonks ends up changing their lives forever. (42K)

17. The Weather Inside by earlybloomingparentheses

Sirius rides a flying motorbike, and snogs strangers in pubs, and strikes moody poses Remus finds irritatingly attractive. But for Remus, who drinks milky tea and wears flannel pyjamas, there's a chasm cracked right down the fault line between wanting and doing.

How he wants, though. How he wants. (43K)

18. the dogfather by hollimichele

“I’m not a reverse werewolf either,” says the man. “I’m your godfather.” (47K)

19. Domestic Creatures by veeagainst

Growing up is hard to do -- but the journey is better if you take someone with you. (53K)

20. Leave the Children Behind by montparnasse

Bravery, sometimes, is the ending just as much as the beginning. Remus, Sirius, and a series of choices.

Or, a love story—backwards and forwards. (54K)

21. A Series of Sketches Done in Black Ink by mustntgetmy

Non-magic AU. Sirius had always imagined the aftermath of falling in love would mean lightness, and an escape from all the horrors of his childhood. But the past never leaves, and even love can't stop bad memories from resurfacing.

An almost year in the life of Sirius and Remus's first year as a couple replete with art and tangled sheets, and containing the following: filled sketchbook pages from people lost and people found, terrible biscuits from an excellent therapist, mismatched music records, expensive hot chocolate, a lost brother, photographs (some invasive and some invoking terrible memories), a reckoning with the past, a promise of the future, and yet another ridiculously over the top Halloween party. (57K)

22. Alt Ed by NachoDiablo

“Remus? Who the bloody hell is Remus?” James is scrambling to straighten his chair as McGonagall glares at him from the head table.

Mary smiles innocently. “Oh, just a new friend that Lily met over the holidays. He’s homeschooled, just moved into her neighborhood it seems. She says he’s very clever. And I hear he’s quite fit, as well.”

AU where Remus and Lily become friends outside of Hogwarts, setting James and Sirius on a quest to learn more about this mysterious newcomer. (61K)

23. Indiana Lupin and the Search for the Conqueror by nekarose

Remus Lupin is an undercover archaeologist for the British Museum and is sent to Greenland to investigate a Roman shipwreck. In Greenland he meets Sirius Black, makes a real discovery and soon enough the two of them are racing through the world in search of the remains of the Library of Alexandria with Remus’ arch-enemy right at their heels. (66K)

24. Le Mot Vagabond by ironicallyinternational

(It all starts with Peter Pettigrew dying twice.

First, Peter kills Wormtail (discreetly), and then Sirius kills him (less discreetly).

Losing a friend is never easy, even amidst the ravages of war, but losing the last of your childhood alongside him is far worse.)

War is a complicated, messy thing. The Marauders have their fucked up shit to deal with, but they also have each other, and that counts for a lot. (151K)

SERIES:

25. The Hole in the Ground by sostrata

(5 works) A series of fics about Sirius and Remus raising Harry in their home, The Hole in the Ground. (18k)

26. Holding Out by bigblackbog

(works 2)

On Halloween, 1981 Sirius and Remus abscond with Harry despite their recently rocky relationship. (36K)

27. Maddest House by busaikko

(6 works)

old as hell. Another wolfstar raising Harry fic (55K)

28. Lycanthropic Studies by Eiiri

(3 works)

After the Battle of Hogwarts, Remus recognizes something familiar in Draco Malfoy and offers him sanctuary. With nowhere else to turn--his parents in prison, his home a crime scene--Draco reluctantly accepts and becomes a tolerated, if not welcome, member of his schoolyard rivals' and wartime adversaries' family of choice. As pages of the lunar calendar turn and the summer wears on,Draco and the others begin to see each other in a different light. (139K)

29. Stealing Harryverse by copperbadge

(works 12)

On a dark night long ago, Sirius Black took a wrong turn and never found Peter Pettigrew. Instead of Azkaban, Sirius settled down in Little Whinging to keep an eye on his godson, and hired Remus Lupin to run his bookshop for him. Then one day when Harry was eight, Sirius found out how the Dursleys treated him, and stole him away.

Stealing Harry is an alternate universe version of Harry Potter's life before his time at Hogwarts. It is the story of Harry's family: Sirius and Remus, Ted and Andromeda, Nymphadora, Neville Longbottom, and even Severus Snape, all banded together against a newly powerful Peter Pettigrew who is still searching for a way to resurrect Voldemort.

Laocoon's Children follows Harry through his time at Hogwarts as he develops a very different group of friends: Hufflepuff Draco Malfoy, Ravenclaw Padma Patil, and Gryffindor Neville Longbottom, strange companions for a Harry who was sorted into Slytherin -- the house of his beloved Professor Snape.

This universe ends in Harry's third year, and is partially incomplete. As it is not likely to be finished, the last story in the series is a group of notes I made on where the story would have gone and how it would have ended. (443.3K)

30. All the Young Dudes by MsKingBean89

(4 works)

LONG fic charting the marauders' time at Hogwarts (and beyond) from Remus' PoV - diversion from canon in that Remus's father died and he was raised in a children's home, and is a bit rough around the edges. Otherwise canon-compliant. 1971 - 1995 (557K)

31. Crow Rides A Pale Horse by tb_ll57

(4 works)

The note pinned to his collar read 'Harry J Potter - please accept'. The Dursleys had left him with nothing else but a pillow sack with half a sleeve of McVities biscuits, a mealy apple, and ten pounds. (618K)

#hp #harry potter #wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #killing sirius was not punk rock jk rowling #nor was killing off remus #this is the barest reason to want to kick jkr #reference for myself #i dont have all of these bookmarked on ao3 even if they're some of my favs #raising harry #fic rec #this only took me an hour to make i can't believe i've been procrastinating this #lolol yes i can #i can believe

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jeongyunhoed · 4 years

Photo

You’re traveling to another dimension It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity It is the middle ground between light and shadow, Between science and superstition It ties between the pit of man’s fears and the summit of his knowledge This is the dimension of imagination

An ATEEZ Twilight Zone!AU (masterlist here)

A/N: Because Hongjoong previously had a very wholesome ghost story of a chapter, and Jongho’s birthday chapter was very... heartbreaking to say the least, we’re bringing back the creepy, the scary, and the spooky (LOL). But you have been warned, things will get psychological in this one.

XIII. Trauma (Hongjoong)

8:00 p.m.

Kim Hongjoong got out of the elevator upon arriving at his floor, rubbing the cold away from his arms as the doors closed behind him. It was another long day at the office, and it only seemed the longest it had ever been because of the increasingly freezing weather. Yet, it was a welcome change of scenery given that he spent almost the entire day cooped up in a cubicle doing data entry. He couldn’t even be bothered to go out for a drink either, no matter how tempting the offers from his colleagues sounded. One of his senior colleagues, Park Seonghwa, was notorious for being the guy who had access to the exclusive clubs, and every night after work was always a night out to remember, at least that was what his friend Jeong Yunho said.

Still, he was too exhausted that the only way he could unwind was to collapse on his sofa bed. He couldn’t get himself a proper bed just yet. He was waiting for a promotion from one of their managers. Hongjoong was certain he’d get it, he was the only one being pushed for it anyway as far as he knew. Not even Choi San was being brought up for the job, and he was the golden boy in the office who could do no wrong. It wouldn’t be long before he would make a little more money than he already was.

He walked down the hallway leading up to his door when he saw a little boy standing by, crouched down, and eating a sandwich out of a small red lunchbox. Hongjoong stopped in front of his door and bent down with a smile to talk to the boy. “Hello,” He said.

“Hello Hongjoong-hyung,” The boy replied with a little wave, holding up his half-eaten sandwich as if to share. “Do you want some?”

He shook his head. “No, you eat it. How do you know my name?” He asked, a brow raised out of curiosity. Hongjoong figured he must have been the son of a neighbor. “You live on this floor too, don’t you?”

“I do. My name is Joongie,” The boy said.

“Joongie? That’s a cute name, I also had that kind of lunchbox when I was a kid,” Hongjoong looked amused, looking down at the container that still had a few sandwiches. “Isn’t it a little late for you to be here? Your parents must be looking for you, or are your parents not here yet?” He asked.

“My parents are okay with it,” Joongie replied. “Did you see someone today?” He suddenly asked.

He tried not to look taken aback at the question. “What do you mean?”

“You must have seen someone today, someone familiar to you,” The boy explained. “That person knows you.”

“Knows me?” Hongjoong chuckled. “What are you talking about? I do see a lot of people if that’s what you mean.”

“You did see someone today,” Joongie replied. “Someone you probably might not know, but that person knows you. Do you have water? I ran out” He held up his now-empty tumbler.

Hongjoong nodded, feeling a slight chill from the coldness of the building as he got up and typed in the passcode to open his door, stepping aside to let the boy in, helping him with his lunchbox. “Why are you staying out in the hall anyway? It’s cold outside,” He made a beeline towards his kitchen, glancing at the boy every now and then to make sure he didn’t trip or if he needed help with his shoes.

“My parents know you, they’ll be okay knowing I’m with you,” Joongie replied, watching Hongjoong pour water into a cup and hand it over to him. “The person who knows you, is probably on his way to see you now.”

“That might be your parents, Joongie. They might start wondering why you’re out at this time, and it’s already approaching curfew for minors, hmm?” He pointed out.

“He’s on his way here, now,” The little boy said.

Just then, his doorbell rang. Hongjoong looked over at the monitor and then at the boy. The boy looked very serious about what he said. He approached the monitor to look at who it was. It was a middle-aged man, dressed in a suit, as if having come back from work. Hongjoong looked over at the boy, whose expression changed. Fear was evident on his face as he froze upon seeing the man on the other side of the monitor. “You stay here, it’s okay,” He assured the boy before padding towards the door.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no,” Joongie began to whimper as he rushed into the nearest room in his apartment.

Hongjoong opened the door slowly to peek outside. The man looked relieved, yet there was something about him that made him feel a little uneasy, especially if he managed to scare off the boy who had already told him that he was coming. “Hello,” He said.

“Oh, hello, hello, Hongjoong,” The man replied. “You’ve grown so well, you must have come back from work.”

“Who are you?” He asked. So, the man knew him since he was little, he thought.

“I’m Yang Heejun, I work at this construction company nearby, but years ago I used to work with your parents,” He said.

“Oh, you did?” Hongjoong nodded in understanding.

“Yeah, well, I-” Heejun looked down for a moment. “I was the first to find your mother when she died. It’s been so long since that day.”

“Oh, well, yeah,” Hongjoong nodded. “I’m coping with the grief better now, it never really goes away anyway. Funny how Joongie was telling me someone who knew me would be coming here, I didn’t expect it would be you.”

“Joongie was the nickname you had when you were a kid,” Heejun chuckled. “As embarrassing as it might sound, I found this among my stuff when I had to leave the company,” He took out his wallet and removed a folded photo to show him. “It’s you and your mother, see?”

Hongjoong looked at the photo and then over at his bedroom, taken aback at what he realized. Joongie looked exactly like him as a child, even went by the same nickname. He cleared his throat and turned back to Heejun. “Oh,” He said.

“You can keep it now, I don’t have any use for that,” Heejun said. “But I just came here to tell you that if you need anything, anything at all, I can also help you. Good night,” and he walked off into the hall where the elevators were.

Hongjoong quietly closed the door behind him, the photo still in his hand as he made his way back into his apartment. Joongie had come out from the bedroom, staring at him. He didn’t know how to say what he was going to say. There were so many things running through his mind that he couldn’t seem to wrap his head around. Joongie, and then Heejun, and the fact that the boy knew that Heejun would be coming to see him. He sat down, the little boy watching him. “...Who are you?” He managed to speak.

“I’m you,” Joongie replied. “Your mother didn’t just die, she was murdered, remember?” He said.

Hongjoong stared at him. “Murdered? That was how she died?”

“Yes, that was how she died, and you saw the whole thing happen,” Joongie pointed out. “You saw it happen, Kim Hongjoong, you saw your mother get murdered that day. You blocked it out.”

He felt a chill down his spine at the boy’s words. Somehow he couldn’t remember it. All he remembered was that his mother had died, all the while his father was away, while his brother was away as well. Hongjoong looked at the photo again, and then at the boy. Joongie repeated his words. He saw his mother get killed, he saw the whole thing happen.

He saw the whole thing happen.

He was there that day.

Hongjoong saw his mother die in the living room.

Hongjoong remembered what Heejun said, that he was the first to find the body. Heejun would be there at the scene as well.

Hongjoong closed his eyes, partly trying to shut out Joongie, who kept repeating what he said, and partly trying to recollect his childhood memories. The more Joongie repeated what he said, the more he looked at the photo of him and his mom, flashes of the incident began to surface in his mind.

He was playing with his toys in the play room while reading a book in between. His mother was in the living room, watching tv. He could recall another voice, a man’s voice, coming from the outside. Hongjoong stood up and crept into the hallway. A man was arguing with his mother, his back turned to him. The following moment, Hongjoong saw the man point something at his mother, and with a loud bang, she fell to the floor.

That was all he could remember. Hongjoong stared at Joongie, who was still watching him react. “Do you remember now?” He asked.

The doorbell rang again, and Hongjoong looked up. He couldn’t speak just yet as his mind was still racing with what he was starting to remember. He looked into the monitor. It was Heejun, who had come back with what looked like containers of takeout. Joongie ran back into his bedroom again and he got up, the incident replaying in his mind as he answered the door. “Yes?”

“I just thought I’d bring you some food from the nearby restaurant,” Heejun held up the containers. “If I can come in, I could set these down for you,” He said.

“Sure, sure,” Hongjoong stood aside to let the man in. Heejun made his way to the kitchen to set it down. “Um, you said you were the first to find my mom when she died, right?” He said. “I must have blocked it out growing up,” He held up the photo.

Heejun’s expression fell. “She was murdered, shot in the stomach,” He revealed, staring at the photo in Hongjoong’s hands. “...I have a confession to make.”

Hongjoong felt the chill down his spine again. His stomach felt like it was turning from anxiety, and a kind of inescapable fear came over him. “Which is?” He asked.

“I killed your mother,” Heejun looked him in the eye. “I killed your mother,” He repeated. “I was, I wass actually about to kill you too when I saw you standing there in the hall that day, but by the time I was going to get to you, you screamed and yelled for help, and the neighbors were coming out of their homes to see what was going on,”

Hongjoong stared at him, frozen from fear. “Over the years I had been watching you, keeping tabs on you. I knew your father wouldn’t want you to be around strangers so I kept my distance, but I still watched you, knowing that you would remember everything again,” Heejun explained. “The statute of limitations is nearly expiring on your mother’s death too.”

“...Are you going to kill me now?” Hongjoong asked, and before he could answer, he raced towards the door, barely getting past Heejun, who caught up with him in the hallway. He needed to tell somebody, the more Heejun told him about his involvement, the more he began to remember. It was him. It was Heejun.

Hongjoong stopped by the elevator to press the button, but ran again when he saw Heejun was catching up. He saw that he had a pocket knife in his hands as he grabbed Hongjoong by the hem of his jacket. Hongjoong quickly grabbed his knife-bearing wrist, keeping himself from getting stabbed as he was backed into the fire exit. “You killed my mother,” He breathed, staring at Heejun in horror while struggling to protect himself. “It was you, and I saw the whole thing…” He remembered the little boy’s words as he managed to make the man drop the knife and pushed him down the stairs.

The man fell down, hitting the landing with a thud, Hongjoong carefully picked up the knife on the floor and went down to check on the body. He was dead.

Later that night, the police had surrounded the building where Hongjoong lived, bringing out the body of the man. Hongjoong recalled the whole incident to the detectives he was speaking to. “There’s no point in pushing for a case, is there?” He asked.

“Given that the perpetrator is dead now, it is safe to say that there is no point, but we can advise you to receive some counseling if you need it,” the detective, Choi Jongho, said. “That was quite an incident, the trauma might get to you.”

“No, no, I don’t think I need it, but thank you,” Hongjoong shook his head and made his way back into the building. He wondered what would his colleagues think when he showed up for work the next day, if they found out what happened.

As he got off the elevator and onto the floor where his apartment was, he saw a little boy, crouched down and eating a snack out of a paper bag. Hongjoong felt his heart drop for a second the closer he was getting. As he finally saw the little boy’s face, he sighed in relief. He couldn’t recognize him.

“Yoogeun! Where are you? Why are you over there?” A woman, his mother, suddenly appeared to take him away. “It’s late, don’t stay outside other people’s houses,” She warned him. “So sorry about this, he likes to hide from me whenever he has snacks.”

Hongjoong smiled. “It’s okay, but you two are welcome to come over if you need anything,” He said, before entering his apartment.

#kdiner #ateez #ateez fic #ateez au #ateez scenarios #hongjoong #kim hongjoong #ateez hongjoong

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d3-iseefire · 4 years

Text

Nevermore Chapter One

Notes: This story is for a Halloween challenge put on by @sdavid09

The challenge was to create a story inspired by a horror movie, and a song and I chose the movie “Halloween” which, at its heart, is a story about a woman having a psycho stalker, and the song “Bad Romance” by Lady Gaga. The month got away from me so I’m still writing it. It’ll probably be about four or five chapters or thereabouts so not super long. You can follow along on here, or on AO3 where I’ll be posting! :D

Rating: T Warnings: Intense Horror Elements (honestly not sure how to explain it other than that. It’s nothing that I graphically detail or anything, but it does get pretty intense at times so I wanted to put a warning for that) If you have read my writing then you probably have a pretty good idea of how far I’ll go, and also that I always provide a guaranteed happy ending. SO, you can rest assured that, no matter how scary or intense it gets, it’s going to be all right in the end for the protagonist. Anyhoo, just be aware, this is for a Halloween Challenge, and is meant to be scary and IS scary. If you are not a person who can handle horror (and that’s perfectly fine, I’m actually not a person who can handle horror so I literally just scared myself writing a story :P) then this may not be the story for you. Fortunately, I have PLENTY of other stories you can read on my AO3 account with no horror elements at all so I will shamelessly plug them and invite you to check them out! :D

Summary: Bilba Baggins is on the run from a stalker who’s supposed to be dead. He hunts her from city to city in an exhausting cat and mouse chase whose ending can only ever be tragic.

Or at least that’s what she’d thought before she moved to Erebor.

PROLOGUE

“There, now was that so bad?”

Bilba gave Priscilla a look that suggested her best friend had taken leave of her senses, and gestured outside the car’s window. “You’re joking, right?”

As if summoned, a large group of children rushed across the street, breaking around the car like waves around a rock as they rushed from house to house in search of candy.

Priscilla laughed and shut the car off. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”

“I doubt it,” Bilba muttered. She’d only had her license a few months, and was still getting comfortable driving at night. She’d driven them both to the movies, when the sun was still nice and up, but had refused to drive anywhere in the midst of thousands of children running about.

Priscilla frowned. “Shoot, I just realized.” She gave Bilba an apologetic grin. “I drove to my house instead of yours.”

She didn’t look sorry, Bilba thought crossly.

“I guess,” Priscilla said innocently, drawing out the word, “you’ll have to drive the rest of the way yourself.”

Bilba gave her a flat look and then, without breaking eye contact, grabbed her purse and coat and got out of the car.

Immediately, she was assailed by the shrieks of children dressed in bright costumes as dozens of tiny bodies dashed from house to house in search of sugary treats to fill plastic buckets and pillowcases. A crisp autumn air wrapped around her and she set her purse on the car’s roof to pull her coat on.

Priscilla scrambled out of the car, dodging a handful of ghosts and ghouls and their harried parents. “Wait, what are you doing?”

Bilba pulled the strap of her purse over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow at her friend. “What does it look like? Walking home.”

“You can’t walk home,” Priscilla said, rounding the car to where Bilba stood on the sidewalk. “It’s dark!”

Bilba turned in an exaggerated circle to take in the streetlights and the veritable hoard of trick-or-treaters and their parents. “It’s like two blocks. I think I’ll be fine.”

Priscilla scowled. “I’ll walk with you then.” She crossed her arms triumphantly, clearly convinced Bilba would now capitulate and agree to drive.

Instead, Bilba merely smiled. “How will you get home?”

Priscilla rolled her eyes. “I’ll wal---” she trailed off, realizing her mistake, but it was too late. Bilba grinned.

“Oh, so you don’t think it’s too dangerous to walk.” She waved at her friend and took a few steps away, quickly before Priscilla could come up with another argument. “I’ll come pick up my car tomorrow.”

Priscilla’s mouth opened and closed as she tried to find a way out of the box she’d neatly trapped herself into. Finally, she scowled and said, “call me when you get home, all right?”

“I will!” Bilba gave a final wave as she headed toward her home. She reached the corner and looked over her shoulder to see Priscilla standing near her front gate, watching to make sure she didn’t get kidnapped in public. Bilba waved and the other girl returned the gesture before raising her phone and pointing to the screen. Bilba gave an exaggerated nod to show she understood and then rounded the corner. Priscilla worried too much. The streets were overflowing with people trick-or-treating or driving to and from parties. It was probably the safest night of the entire year.

As the thought passed through her mind, it occurred to her that the street she’d just confidently strode onto was decidedly darker than the one she’d just left. Unease settled over her and she hesitated. Maybe she should double back and take another route? There was a house a block or two away that threw a Halloween party every year and she knew it’d be teeming with people.

She looked back, for just a second, and then shook her head. Going that route would double the amount of time it would take her to get home, and for what? Because a street she’d been on a thousand times was a little dark? She was letting Priscilla’s paranoia get to her. It wasn’t that dark, and it wasn’t entirely empty either. Several small group were running between houses, bags and pails in hand.

It was fine.

She’d be fine.

It was like a block.

Nothing bad could happen in a block.

Bilba squared her shoulders and started walking again, this time with what she hoped was a particularly confident air. Priscilla always insisted that no one messed with you if you acted like you knew what you were doing. The other girl was nineteen, three whole years older than Bilba, and that much closer to official adulthood. If she said something was so, then it was so.

Unless it involved convincing Bilba to drive in the dark on Halloween night. Then she was simply being...overconfident.

It was a fine line.

An especially cold gust of wind hit her, freezing her nylon clad legs and whipping her skirt about her thighs. Priscialla had invited a couple of her college guy friends to come along, not as an official double date but just a “meet and greet” as she’d described it. Bilba had gone along with it, but almost decided almost immediately she was nowhere near ready for that sort of thing again.

She shivered, for reasons more than just the cold, and paused to zip her jacket all the way up to her chin. She adjusted the strap of her purse as it threatened to slide off her arm, and wrapped her arms around herself in a futile effort to add an extra modicum of warmth.

Perhaps she should have accepted Priscilla’s offer of a ride after all. She could have just let the other girl keep the car until the morning, or asked one of her parents for help.

“Way to think of practical solutions now,” she grumbled to herself.

Something niggled in the back of her mind, a subtle but insistent feeling like some sixth sense tapping on the door of her consciousness. Bilba’s footsteps slowed until she’d come to a complete stop on the sidewalk. While she’d been lost in her thoughts the street had mostly emptied. Even as she watched, the last group vanished around the corner, laughter and shrieks of excitement fading as quickly as they did.

Bilba swallowed down a dry throat as, around her, the now silent street seemed to grow darker, and shifted from a familiar, and comforting place to one utterly alien and unknown.

Don’t be ridiculous, she tried to convince herself. It was still the same street, the one she’d walked down more times than she could count, on her way to school with Priscilla or the park or some other grand adventure. The only difference now was that it was dark whereas, before, she’d always walked it in the bright light of day.

She’d never realized before just what a difference the dark could make.

She started moving again, faster this time, short heels clicking on the sidewalk as if to alert the shadows to her passing. It was just a street, but the sooner she was off it the better. She wanted to be in her bedroom, light and warmth surrounding her and walls holding back the night. She’d change as soon as she got in, she decided. Put on her most comfortable pajamas and the thick robe she’d just gotten for her sweet sixteen. Maybe she’d make herself a mug of hot chocolate, and then go and curl up in her bed with a good book.

The feeling returned.

It was stronger this time, more aggressive as if something primal inside of her was trying to warn her. Screaming at her in a language she couldn’t speak, but still understood.

Something was wrong, and it was more than her simply being out on a cold and lonely night.

She focused, trying to understand what it was that was causing her heart to suddenly beat so fast in her chest.

And then she heard it. As her feet hit the pavement there was the slightest echo, the barest hint of a footstep just out of sync with her own.

As if someone were walking behind her, and taking care to almost match her steps.

Her stomach clenched, and a sick feeling washed over her.

“Don’t be stupid,” she whispered under her breath. It was Halloween. Of course there was someone behind her. She tensed and then, before she could talk herself out of it, whirled around.

The street was empty, nothing but moonlight and fallen leaves skittering across the street in the cold October breeze.

“Hello?” Bilba called. Mentally, she kicked herself. The very last thing she wanted was for someone to answer, so why in the world was she inviting a response?

The street stayed silent.

Slowly, Bilba’s heart rate began to slow and her breathing evened. This was all Priscilla’s fault. She’d acted all paranoid, and now Bilba was letting her imagination run away with her. Thinking she heard footsteps and whatnot when, in reality, it had just been her mind playing tricks on her.

She let out a small laugh at her own foolishness, spun back around, and promptly screamed.

There was a person standing behind her, less than a foot away. He wore a basic white sheet with black circles painted on for the eyes, and holes cut out for the sleeves. His arms and hands were covered in a black shirt and gloves, and she could see black pants and sneakers peeking out from the bottom of the sheet.

He raised his arms, and Bilba sucked in a sharp breath, only to let it out in a rush as she saw that he was holding an orange, pumpkin shaped trick-or-treat bucket in his hands. He was short, she realized, his head probably only coming up to her shoulder and that was saying something as she was short.

A kid, her mind supplied in near hysterical relief. He was just a kid.

“Sorry,” she said, putting her hand to her chest. Her heart thudded under her fingers, so hard she wondered that it didn’t burst out of her chest. “You scared me.” She frowned. “Are you lost?”

The ghost said nothing. Instead, he simply lifted the bucket higher. It was empty.

“I’m sorry,” Bilba said again, wondering why he would ask a random stranger on the street for candy. Then again, wasn’t that what Halloween was all about? Getting candy from complete strangers? What was the difference, really, between asking for it from a person in a house or someone on the street? “I don’t have any candy.”

The ghost tilted his head to the side, as if studying her. There must have been small holes cut in the black holes painted on the sheet, but they weren’t large enough for Bilba to see his eyes. It was disconcerting, his strange silence combined with the inability to really see him. “Are you lost?” she tried again. “Do you need help?” She fumbled in her purse for her phone. “Do you need me to call someone for you?”

Still, there was no response. With the costume on, Bilba had no idea how old the child was. He was small, but it was hard to judge if he was too small to be out on his own. He didn’t seem scared or upset, so that was a good sign? Probably?

Her hand brushed against a bit of paper that crinkled under her fingers. She’d completely forgotten that Priscilla had presented her with a candy bar after the movie, calling it her Halloween present.

“Here.” She pulled the candy bar out and held it out to the young boy. No child should have to go without a single piece of candy on Halloween. “I forgot I had this.”

The ghost held his bucket up a little higher, and Bilba dropped the candy in. It hit the bottom with a clunk, and the boy pulled it back to look in and study it. After a few seconds, he lowered the bucket, gave her a slight nod and started to walk away.

“Happy Halloween!” Bilba called after him. She looked down at her purse, making sure she’d zipped it up securely. Maybe she’d follow him, she thought, just to make sure -- she raised her head, and froze.

The child was gone.

“What in the world?” She stepped into the street, trying to see if he’d gone up the walkway of a nearby house, or stepped behind a parked car. She saw no sign of him. Perhaps he actually lived in one of the homes, and had simply gone home? It would explain what he’d been doing out by himself in the first place. Hopefully his parents would have leftover candy to fill his bucket with so he wouldn’t get through Halloween with only a single candy bar.

Even so, a shiver ran down her spine at the odd encounter, and she quickened her pace toward home, good mood gone.

When she finally made it to her own street, and spotted her home in the distance it felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. The area was better lit here, and filled once more with children and parents running from house to house. Most of her neighbors loved Halloween and had loads of candy at hand to give out.

Her parents were no different. They would decorate like it was Christmas, with jack-o-lanterns, spooky lighting and ghosts strung up in the limbs of the tree out front. As she drew near, Bilba expected to see her parents out on the porch, sitting back in their matching, rocking chairs with a giant bowl of candy on the table between them as they waited for each new group of excited children.

It was oddly dark as she approached, and it took her a few seconds to realize all the lights were off. Even the Halloween lights strung along the eaves and up in the trees were off, casting the entire yard and front of the house in thick darkness.

Her footsteps slowed as she neared the porch, confusion putting her nerves on edge. She’d talked to her parents before leaving for the movies and they’d told her to be ready to hand out candy when she got home. She’d expected to arrive to find a crowd of children on the porch, her parents front and center in the midst of them.

Instead the porch was empty, and eerily quiet. The worn wood of the steps creaked beneath her feet, sounding far louder than they should in the quiet.

Bilba hesitated. Behind her, she could hear the shouts and shrieks of excited children, but it felt like they were in another world, one far removed from where she had gone.

She’d never realized just how dark the porch could be without the light on.

She retrieved her phone, and pulled up the flashlight app. Immediately the porch jumped into stark relief, revealing her parents empty chairs, and a full bowl of candy sitting on the low table between them.

The popcorn she’d had at the movie began to churn in Bilba’s gut. Her gaze shifted toward the front door, and caught on a large box sitting on the doormat. Someone had written on it in black Sharpie and she took a step forward to read it.

Happy Halloween, Whore.

Around the words were dark splotches, with several resembling finger marks or palm prints. The box itself had been taped shut but, on the sides, she could see more of the dark...whatever it was, that seemed to actually be leaking from whatever was inside the box, saturating the cardboard around it.

Her eyes went to the writing again, traveling over the small, tight lettering, and jagged edges. The word whore had clearly originally been misspelled as “hor” before the W had been squeezed in after the fact.

She knew that writing.

Bilba felt lightheaded. Her heart thundered in her chest, and her throat burned as she struggled to pull in air.

She couldn’t seem to move. It was as if an invisible wall had sprung up in front of her, blocking her off from the front door, and what lay before it. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to move forward, she physically couldn’t.

A child shrieked in excitement somewhere behind her, and Bilba jumped. Some deep and primal feeling that she couldn’t fully define began to spread through her. She could feel herself starting to sweat, but was ice cold at the same time. Her legs started to tremble and threatened to buckle under her.

She turned and stumbled back down the steps. Her eyes focused on the house across the street, bright lights shining from the window and porch. The Lundleys lived there. Mr. Lundley was a police officer, and his wife had just been promoted to detective. There’d been a huge celebration with balloons and cake and everything. Bilba had gone with her parents and could easily call to mind her father’s jovial voice and her mother’s bright smile as they’d celebrated Mrs. Lundley’s promotion.

Tears pricked at the back of her eyes, and the bridge of her nose began to burn. She didn’t know why. What reason was there to cry? Everything was fine. It was just another horrid prank. Another way to get back at her for having the audacity to speak her own mind.

The sense of dread pressing down on her didn’t lift, and the hollow pit in her stomach showed no signs of filling.

A group of children were just leaving the Lundley’s front door, passing by her in a rush of bright colors, buckets and bags crashing into their legs and each other as they fled.

To Bilba, it was as if she were watching them from the other side of a thick pane of glass. Their movements were almost unnaturally slow to her, voices strangely distorted and indiscernible.

“Bilba? Are you okay, Honey?”

The world snapped back into focus in a rush of sound and light. Bilba was standing on the porch, Mrs. Lundley in front of her, framed in the warm light of her home. Warmth from the house escaped outside, along with the smell of gingerbread wafting from the direction of the kitchen.

“My parents,” Bilba managed to blurt out. She pointed back toward her home. “They should be out, but all the lights are out, and there’s a box on the porch….” her voice cracked on the last and the tears began to squeeze out of her eyes against her will. Why was she crying? It was fine. Everything was fine.

Please, let everything be fine.

“Come on inside, Dear.” Mrs. Lundley put an arm around her shoulders, and then she was inside and sitting on the couch. A body sat next to her that she vaguely recognized as Angeline Lundley. She was fourteen, two years younger than Bilba, and was one of her closest friends. The other girl took her hand, and might have said something, but Bilba couldn’t hear it.

Her eyes were fixed on the front door, through which Mr. and Mrs. Lundley had vanished. As if transfixed, she got to her feet and began to slowly walk to the door. She didn’t want to go out there, but it was as if she had no choice. As if some unseen force were dragging her.

She reached the open door in time to see Mr. and Mrs. Lundley crossing the street back toward her and the look on their faces as they met her eyes…

No....

No, she didn’t want to hear it.

NO.

And as the darkness rushed in, and her world shattered about her, Bilba’s last conscious thought was the inescapable fact that everything that had happened was entirely her fault.

Continue Reading on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27298015/chapters/66695635

#fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #writing #horror #Halloween #scary #Bad Romance #romance #stalking #happy ending #Hobbit AU #Female Bilbo Baggins #fili #fembilbo/fili #fantasy #supernatural #writing challenge

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