#(I like to pretend all of my villagers are part of small town drama and Julian x Bella is the talk of the town)

[anch-vaviel]

Last year's VS this year's birthday party with my lovely friends on Vaviel! A lot has changed over the past year but we're still all besties!

2022:

2023:

[libraford]

gods as someone that was raised in several churches (mom minister so I got all the shitty behind the scenes drama starting at like 4yo and never really believed beyond general agnostic-ish feelings. which apparently is a super common trend for pastor/minister kids to nope tf out of the church asap) the 'forcing you to be The Right Christian™ Or You Don't Deserve™™ Charity' thing hits hard. especially when I psych myself out of asking for help because I'm constantly remembering how openly hostile some of those places are to even poor christian people using their services.

like one particular church (the "open and affirming" one that threw the only trans woman out of the 20 person congregation because the old white guy treasurer learned she was trans after like 8 years and suddenly didn't want to look at her, or "worse", hear her sing) had a monthly meal for the (very poor neighborhood) community. they'd make everyone pray to God for 20 minutes before letting anyone touch even a slice of bread, but lock them out of the sanctuary during church hours because they were, I wish I was joking and that this wasn't a direct quote, "dirty homeless looters". you had to pray correctly to get food but don't you dare sully the churches doorstep trying to attend worship. meanwhile the church people organizing it are going off about how dare these people be standing in line for food instead of attending church as Real Good Christians Should.

🙃

That's fucking frightening and unfortunately I have my own similar stories.

Tw for racism, homophobia, anti-Muslim, and just... really bad stereotypes.

One of the reasons I started walking away from the church (there's a couple reasons) was at our summer mission trip (yes, I know.) In previous years, we had kept local: deep cleaning the homeless shelter, renovating the local Latino advocacy building, soup kitchen stuff. But one of the (more wealthy) girls in our group wanted to try doing a mission abroad.

Best we could do is Toronto.

We signed up with a shelter there and they gave us some tasks. The shelter REALLY played up how bad it was in this part of town- the gang violence, the culture of sin, the regressive way the men treat women in their home country.

So like... I'm from America. I've been to Chicago. Not to compare but like... hmm..

So during the introduction to how terrible it is in Toronto (...?) Our ambassador takes us through parts of town to show us what it's like to be homeless there. It was a very somber thing. We were given a small amount of money and we were to pretend it was all we had. Try to survive on a few coins.

We take our tour. Remember that this is supposed to scare us.

She takes us to an area where we hear drums. We hide behind a building. "You hear those drums? This is a homeless village. Young people come here seeking community, but you will be turned away if you cannot provide a service for them. They will only use your body for so long."

So... I'd been to drum circles before. And this was very much a drum circle. Like sure these people were a little crunchy, but it was pretty clear to me that these guys were just cutting loose after the day of work.

She takes us to the red light district.

"This is the red light district," she says. "This is where all the homosexuals come. You see that there are many young people here who are attracted to the high life. But you will see: the older men will always come looking for the younger one's to manipulate and that's how many homeless people become prostitutes."

I, a half-in-half-out of the closet lesbian, for the first time in my life, saw two happy gay men arm in arm and it was moving for me. I saw people having a good time. I'd already figured out she was full of shit. Now I was mad.

So we get back to the church we're staying at and I'm already having second thoughts about this visit to Canada. She tells us that our mission this week is to tutor some Somali kids in English and math.

... I feel... oncoming dread.

They didn't give us a lesson,plan or anything. Were supposed to just help them learn where they're stuck in their lessons. And then on Friday we'll have a trip to the museum of science and industry.

I was the only one in our group that had ever encountered a Muslim to know that Friday was their holy day. And that was when I realized that it was a conversion tactic. I asked her about it like... 'is Friday really a good time to do that?' And she was like 'well, it's the last day you'll be here and we want to celebrate don't we?'

And I was livid, but I was in a different country with a bunch of people who believed this woman's lies. And I didn't say anything to my friends because I was already kind of an outcast there, no one was going to believe me.

So I held my tongue, but from then on I lost a lot of respect for Christian-run charities and even now I'll always be looking for their angle.

[translations-by-aiimee]

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 21

Original Title:  二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 21 - This Venerable One Will Tell You a Story (Part 3)

Yao Qianjin had quite a temperament. When she got back, she didn't even think about eating and went straight to pestering her father to inquire about Chen Bohuan. Although Chen Bohuan was already married, it was done behind closed doors. Who knew about it? Even when their marriage had been arranged, the town never knew about their relationship.

So Yao Qianjin learned that the eldest Chen son "wasn't married yet."

The county magistrate made several inquiries and found that Xiao Chen was capable, gentle-tempered, and his familial situation was good, so he sent someone to talk to the Chen family about the marriage.

Mr. Chen was filled with regret. They politely told the county magistrate they would think about it first. They closed the door and the two old people immediately started to quarrel.

Mr. Chen said: "Look what you've done! The poor scholar died early and his daughter should have mourned him for three years. If you hadn't been in such a hurry for them to get married, our son wouldn't have to regret it now! Look at what happened!"

Madam Chen was also anxious: "You're blaming me? Weren't you the one who wanted to arrange the marriage in the first place? Now there's a better option: the daughter of the county magistrate! Can. . . can Luo Xianxian compare to that?"

The two elders closed the door and quarrelled until they were red in the face. At the end of the quarrel, they were exhausted and panting across the table from each other.

Mr. Chen asked: "What should we do? Should we call back the magistrate?"

Madam Chen said: ". . . We can't do that. Our family is relying on Yao Qianjin's money."

Mr. Chen said angrily: "Then will the daughter of the Yao family be a concubine? Will she? Our son already has somebody, how can we add another? Look at how in love they are!"

". . ." Madam Chen didn't say anything for a while. Her eyes suddenly lit up, and she murmured, "If you think about Luo Xianxian and our son, except for our family, no one knows about them. . ."

After a few moments of silence, Mr. Chen was shocked when he suddenly understood his wife's intentions.

He was trembling, half from panic, half from anger.

"You - you mean. . ."

"If no one knows about it, it doesn't count as a real marriage." Madam Chen said. "Let's try to find a way to get rid of her. We can do whatever it takes. All the surrounding villages think he's unmarried. Do you remember how she stole oranges from us as a child? As long as we all stick to that story, no one would believe her word over ours!"

Mr. Chen strode to the door, confirmed that the door was closed tightly, and hurriedly rushed over. The two people who had been arguing like two chickens in a cockfight were nestled together again, quietly lowering their voices, and discussed.

Mr. Chen said: "This method of you, I'm afraid it won't work."

"What's wrong?"

"Our son won't agree. He's had a crush on Luo Xianxian his whole life. Why would he agree to drive her away for someone else?"

Madam Chen thought for a while. She patted her husband's hand and said, "Don't worry, I'll take care of it."

After a while, Madam Chen suddenly became seriously ill. It was a strange illness. The doctor couldn't explain the reason, but she just would have fits all day and talked nonsense, saying she was possessed by a ghost.

Mr. Chen was terrified so he asked a Daoist priest to come. He carried a whisk on his back and said that there was something negative in the Chen family directed at Madam Chen. If it wasn't resolved, Madam Chen wouldn't make it to the new year.

Chen Bohuan, who was the most filial, anxiously asked: "What attacked my mother?"

The Daoist priest pretended to be mysterious and hesitated for a while. He said it was a "beauty who couldn't see the light of day."

Everyone in the room froze. The Chen family's sons all turned to look at Luo Xianxian standing on the side.

Luo Xianxian also froze.

She has been told many times when she was a child that her life is cursed. She brought tragedy with her. As soon as she was born, she killed her mother, then her brother, and later her father.

Now, she was being accused again, saying that she was going to kill her mother-in-law.

The Chen family was petrified. The sons took turns telling her to leave the Chen family. Besides, no one outside the family knew that she was married and had an innocent reputation. They would give her some money and let her find another good family.

Luo Xianxian was anxious and afraid. She was really worried that she was killing Madam Chen and she couldn't control her tears.

Chen Bohuan was heartbroken. As he watched his mother grow weaker, he was caught between a rock and a hard place. He didn't want to leave Luo Xianxian, but he couldn't bear to watch his mother suffer. She had lost so much weight in such a short amount of time.

The brothers of the Chen family quit trying to be civil. One day, while their elder brother was away, they sought out their sister-in-law. Luo Xianxian was mixing butterfly fragrant powder in the greenhouse. They rushed up and knocked over her utensils. The fragrant powder fell on her. The pungent aroma seemed to instantly seep into her bones and she couldn't wash it off.

The brothers surrounded her and talked about the most important duties, such as "a woman's virtue", how a wife and daughter should be humble, parents should be respected but Luo Xianxian was very tough. Although timid, she was very stubborn. She cried and said she didn't want to leave, begging them to think of another way.

The second son of the Chen family was impatient so he went up and slapped her. He said: "You're going to kill our mother, you cursed bitch. If there was another way, would your father have died? Would your mother have died? Would your brother be dead or alive?"

As soon as he beat her, the rest of them rushed up, punching and kicking Luo Xianxian, shouting things like "get out", "vermin" and "quick fuck".

These sons had the same idea as their mother. In fact, they had known about their mother's idea for a long time. At this time, taking advantage of their elder brother's absence, they worked together to expel Luo Xianxian from the house. They threatened that if she dared to come back, they would beat her every day. She didn't have a family anyways. If she was beaten to death, no one would care.

It was a snowy night. Luo Xianxian was thrown into the snow covered in bruises and one of the embroidered shoes on her feet had fallen off.

She slowly crawled forward, a muffled choked sob escaping her lips, like the low howl of a dying cub.

It was late at night. Few people would be outside on such a snowy day. She crawled through the vast world, not knowing where she was going, not knowing where else she could go.

The Chen brothers were right.

She had no family; no father, no brother. No one to stand up for her, no one to take her in.

There was nowhere she could go in this white, awe-inspiring world.

Her bones were weak, and she was wearing thin clothes when she was thrown out, so her legs and feet quickly became numb and useless.

Crawling all the way to the outskirts of the city, she came to the earth temple where the Master of Ceremonies Ghost was enshrined. She curled up in the temple to hide from the snow. Her lips were blue and frozen, and her heart felt even colder.

Looking up at the clay statue with gorgeous red makeup, she couldn't stop the tears rolling down her face. It made her think of the rules of the Lower Cultivation World, and how a married couple should have a master of ceremonies to witness it.

At that time, all she had was a red flower hairpin, a beautiful smile and Chen Bohuan kneeling next to her.

Was this closed-door marriage all a big dream? That day, the beauty in the brass mirror was picturesque. Was it just a greedy joy that she had concocted deep in her mind?

She knelt in front of the Master of Ceremonies Ghost, dragging her increasingly heavier and cold body. She bowed three times, crying and laughing.

"Married as husband and wife. No doubt about their love. Rejoice. . . in this. . . tonight. . ."

She started to feel dizzy and her vision was getting blurry.

A thin layer of moonlight seemed to sprinkle in front of her eyes. In the small courtyard from her past, she cried and said: "I didn't steal. I didn't steal. I didn't steal the oranges."

However, three men make a tiger* and everyone was terrified. No one would believe her side of the story.

*(T/N: 三人成虎 - means that the more someone repeats something absurd, the more likely people are to believe it)

To this day, she knew that even if she ran up to every person she saw and screamed that she was Chen Bohuan's wife, no one would believe her. She was still the same little girl as back then, stuck behind the mud wall with no one to share her grievances with.

Nothing had changed.

But there was still that person, looking over the wall, holding a white steamed bun, stuffed into her palm, saying: "If you're hungry, eat a steamed bun to curb your hunger."

Now. . . that person. . . where was he. . .

When he came back and couldn't find her, would he be worried, or would he secretly breathe a sigh of relief because his mother would be safe from her?

Luo Xianxian curled up in the earth temple, eyes dripping with gradually drying tears, and whispered: "Madam Master of Ceremonies, I want to be with him. I'm his wife. . . When we came to the temple, we didn't have a master of ceremonies with us. You're a Master of Ceremonies Ghost. You can't control the living, but I. . . You're the only one I can talk to. . . and I can tell you. . ."

She whimpered in a broken voice, the last sound coming out of her throat: "I didn't lie. . ."

I didn't lie.

The heavy snow was silent, and the long night was quiet.

The next day, the townspeople who passed by the earth temple on the outskirts of the city found Luo Xianxian's cold body.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

[leggomylino]

Sunrise | Hwang Hyunjin

 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Genre: Angst, Romance, Drama, Comedy

AU: Beauty and the Beast au

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x fem!reader

Word Count: ~26k

Warning(s): Minorly dark themes, vague mentions of suicide, sparse censored language

A/N: It’s finally done! <3 | For Kumi, my dear friend. <3

Playlist:

Lighthouse → Hope

forever rain → RM

Tag List: @hanniiesuckle17​ @distrikt9​ @hanstagrams​ @hyunsunq​ @smolboiseavey​ (let me know if you want to be added!)

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ 

  .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

| Zero ❧

It was no lie that Hwang Hyunjin was what he was. A monster. A crook. A fiend. 

But had that been his fault? No. Had it been his intention to piss off the old hag who showed up at his doorstep looking for shelter, who also happened to be a witch?

...Well, yes, technically. But in his defense, he hadn’t known she’d been a witch. He just assumed she was another ex-royal his father’s company had put out of business, bankrupt and seeking reconciliation. Another pawn knocked off the chess board. 

So then was any of this really his fault? 

Not in the slightest.

Late November was when colorful bouts of leaves piled in the corners and around the front doors of Everain Palace, when icy winds took hold from north arctic fronts and chilled all those who inhabited it to the bone, or at least, those unfortunate enough to end up imprisoned in the steely corridors below. Dank, gray shadows fell over the surrounding dark atmosphere of the cold stone walls, seeping in elongated coverage that fell over the once festering city of New Amber, now reduced to nothing but a sickly small town until the return of the harvest season. If anyone even bothered coming back.

It was no secret why no one ever wanted to come back. Everyone knew about the curse. Rumors spread fast, and as the head of his father’s company Hyunjin couldn’t hide his scarred face forever. Afraid of becoming infected, afraid it would spread, half of the town vanished within the first few days. Another half of what was left disappeared over the course of the following two weeks, and the number of residents continued to dwindle even after that, until Hyunjin couldn’t even tell you how many remained as of today, six years later. Ten, maybe twelve royals, some small groups of peasants temporarily settling in until they too were told about the curse, and the dark secrets of the young man who lived beyond its walls.

He was once beautiful until he ticked off the wrong old lady. Now he lives out his days staring at a reflection of who he once was.

The part he hated the most was that he couldn’t deny it was the truth.

“Mirror!” he called, clapping his hands once, twice, three times. “Where is my mirror?! Where the hell did you put it this time?!?”

Begrudgingly with a sigh a shadow cascaded down along the stone wall, manifesting into something three-dimensional only a moment later. Blue hair fluttered softly around smooth, rounded features, a lone earring sparkling faintly in the pale moonlight, accentuating ripped jeans and the confines of a pitch-black hoodie. 

The whole ensemble was tacky and incredibly outdated. “Here…” His shadow said, holding out the small ornate mirror. His contractor grabbed it with anxious greedy hands, claws already beginning to form far too early thanks to the autumn equinox.

He paced away eagerly, collapsing to his corner of comforting feather downs and soft silk sheets, as he stared at a reflection of who he once was, who he used to be. How he would look today had he just pretended not to be home that ill-fated night.

“Jisung!” He barked, glaring angrily over his shoulder. “Come here.”

The boy-shadow sighed once more, nodding slowly as he had no right to refuse the man who had complete control over him. So he slowly sulked over toward the bed, shimmering at the seams as he passed through the inanimate threshold like a waking dream. Carefully his edges began to dissolve, bit by bit, until nothing but a faint air of smoke remained, settling dispersedly around the dim-lit bedroom.

Hyunjin never took his eyes off his past-in-the-present self, who only stared back at him with vacant, mournful eyes. “Show her to me.” he demanded, gently leaning a few inches forward. “Where is she?”

With careful swirls like a rippling tide the mirror faltered, spiraling and transforming the glass picture until the prince’s face was gone, the image of a girl taking his place.

Then another one. Then another one…

The mirror suddenly cracked. His hands tightened around the steel handle, a low growl resonating from behind parted lips curled up in a snarl.

“I’m sorry…” the mirror muttered, Jisung suddenly appearing out of the cracks to stand before him. “She’s still not here. I don’t know what you want me to do abo--”

“I don’t want you to do anything!” Hyunjin snapped, throwing down the mirror and shattering it into a million more pieces. “I just want her here! What’s taking her so long? Where is she?!”

“I--” Jisung winced as a few stray shards transpired through him, the feeling still foreign even after all these years and past mirrors similarly broken. “...I think these things just take time--”

“Time?! TIME?!?” Hyunjin was beyond livid. The moment he stood his servant shrunk back, nearly folding himself into the safe confinements of the old chiseled walls. “Time is something I don’t have. You know this, Jisung. If this goes on any longer I’ll…” His voice trailed off and he gulped, snatching a fistful of hair in his sharp dark claws. “...Why isn’t she here yet? What are you not telling me?”

“Telling you? Wha--”

“Shut up and answer me!” He demanded, slamming the boy against the wall. The poor guy would have sunken through had he, again, not been under such a binding spell. Instead the only thing he could do was resentfully comply, doing all he could to spitefully avoid eye contact. 

“I’m sorry, Hyunjin. I don’t know--”

“You’re working with her, aren’t you?” Hyunjin continued with narrowed eyes. He began to shake him, tightening his chokehold around the boy’s throat. 

Jisung gasped a bit, nails gritting against the echoing stone walls. “I-I really don’...” He tried to choke out. “...I really don’t know. I swear. Honest.”

“Lies.”

The tightening intensified. Jisung felt like he was nearly going to burst.

That’s when he’d gotten the idea.

“Y-You’re right! I lied! I know where she is!”

The moment he was let go Jisung gasped for breath, grateful as the heavy sinking feeling of doom left his vacant bones. Hyunjin blinked once, twice before narrowing his eyes again, taking a careful step back. 

“...I knew you were lying to me. Where is she?”

After holding up his hand for breath, his shadow slowly looked up from his knees, straightening and readjusting his strange, stretchy cufflinks of the hooded cloak he wore. “She’s lying dormant somewhere. I can get her for you.”

“Where?”

“Under...erm,” He awkwardly coughed. “...O-Over that way...out yonder.” 

Hyunjin didn’t seem very keen on the way his servant waved his hand dismissively in the random direction of “out yonder”; but it was a risk he was willing to take. He was desperate. Three more days and...and…

“Fine,” he answered at last, lavishly turning his cape away from him to pace towards the half-opened window. “You have until sunrise to bring her to me. I won’t wait a moment longer.”

“Wha?! But she--”

“Fine! Twenty-four hours. And you better return with the right one, or else.”

He gave a precise gaze over the slender curve of his princely shoulders, and that was all it took for his shadow to sink out of sight into the folds of stone-pressed cement below, the clouds blotting out the last rays of moonlight around them.

| One ❧

“Y/n~ Y/n, hurry up!! C’mon, we’re gonna be late!!”

“Yes, yes, I’m coming…”

Your friend Rei ran another ten yards ahead, impatiently stopping for the umpteenth time for your slow-leisurely pace to match up. “Uuuugh, c’mon already!”

“I said I’m coming…!”

...Sheesh. 

Autumn season. It was the time when the leaves changed their colors, one final requiem of individuality before fluttering away in the cool breeze, carried off somewhere to decompose and fall victim to the circle of life. It was also the time you and your friend Reiya, who you casually referred to as just Rei, spent all hours of the short-lived days travelling from village to town, in order to sell the wares of your fathers’ goods. They were both merchants, you see; it’s how the two of you had met, many years ago. But they were old now, the circle of life creeping up on them as well, and since all the men in your town were either taken or losers not worth your time, each of you vowed to take over the family business, carrying it wherever the wind decided.

...And anyway, neither of you were interested in the prospects of marriage; being tied down? And taking orders from some mustached buffoon? ...No thanks. It’s not that you hated the idea of settling down, just...not in your town. Not at your age. Not yet.

This way, things worked out well-- you and Rei got to travel the continent, avoiding arranged marriage and spending time in each other’s company selling your fathers’ wares and in turn, helping them out. They were free to enjoy a peaceful retirement while you added memories of wondrous places and escaped the evil clutches of a life tied down to a broomstick and a kitchen stove. It was perfect.

...Except for days like now, when you’d both woken up late and were at risk of losing a good place to set up shop. Your bad this time.

“Hurry up!!” Rei whined, doing her famous one-tap-two-step-hurry-up dance. The balls of her slippered feet hardly touched the stone pavement of the path leading to the city, her arms flapping like a chicken as she readjusted the triple-stacked backpack of goods from falling off her bony shoulders. “Let’s go let’s go let’s go!!”

“I told you, I’m coming!” You groaned, having been stuck with cart duty. It may have been nearly empty, but it sure didn’t feel like it. Normally it took two people to steer, in addition to horsepower by your trusted steed, Carrots, but unfortunately…

Carrots had too many carrots last night. And she wasn’t doing so well. 

It wasn’t serious, but it would be at least another few hours before she got it out of her system, so this blissfully unfortunate morning it was you and Rei having to wing it...with you having pulled the short end of the stick.

“Nnnneiiigh,” Carrots groaned from behind you. You gave her a gentle pat while trying your best to nudge the cart over the last hill. 

“It’s alright, girl. We’re almost there. Just a little farther.”

She let out a whine, almost seeming to nod in understanding.

“Ahh, hurry!” Rei called again, making haste for the city gate’s checkpoint line. All merchants and traveling businessmen (or women) were required to have their items evaluated and checked by city officials before being licensed a temporary warrant to sell.

When you made it to the top of the hill, already out of breath, you deflated-- then just about fell over when you saw how long the line was.

Oh man. This is all my fault. We shouldn’t have stayed up so late…

“You look like you could use a hand.”

You turned around to find a tall...ish, slender boy, with hair the color of chocolate and big, round eyes to match. A single silver earring hung from his right ear. “Oh, uh, that’s okay…”

“...Han,” he clarified, gripping one side of the cart. “Han Jisung. Just let me handle this. You should probably go help your friend; she looks like she’s about to fall over.”

You peered around the other side of the small wagon to see that, indeed, Rei was playing a game of balance, swaying a bit too far this way and that as she wobbled on flat calloused feet toward the back of the long line. But you? Leaving your father’s shop in a stranger’s hands? Even if it was in a populated area, and he did seem genuine…

“That’s okay.” You told him, grabbing tighter onto your side. “I can take it myself, I’m used to it. Thank you for the offer, though.”

“...” He blinked at you a moment, doing nothing at all but staring. Just when you were considering calling for Rei to come back, though, he laid off, tossing smooth hands in the air before shoving them in the front pocket of the strange cloak he wore. “Alright, alright. Didn’t mean to scare you or anything. If you insist, I’ll be on my way.”

He let go, and you felt the full weight of the cart pull your body downward, gravity affecting you in the worst way. ...Maybe…

“Um, hold on!” You shouted, and he stopped a quarter of the way down the hill, glancing up at you expectantly from over his left shoulder. Curse him. “Yeah?”

“...” You set your pride and suspicions aside. “...It would actually...well, I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to help. Just to the base of the hill.”

His eyes did the smiling for him, and was back at your side in seconds, taking the right flank while you managed Carrots and the left.

“Mind if I ask you something?” He pipped just steps later, eyes peering at you from over the cart as he jumped like a small puppy trying to see over a counter space. You groaned.

“I suppose I have no choice, so, sure. What is it?”

“Well…” He was beginning to mumble. “I know this may seem kind of sudden but, I have this...friend…”

“No.”

“Huh?”

The cart stopped rolling, delaying your schedule that much farther. “If this is headed where I think it is, I’m sorry but, I’m not interested. I’m very busy and I don’t have time for...love. Or a relationship. Other than the one I share with my customers.”

“Oh! No, no! Hahah…” Han had let go of the cart as well, scratching his cheek. “I-It’s not that! Nothing like that...I…”

His explanation was cut off by your sudden gasp, lunging forward to grab the cart as it started to descend down the steep slope. But it was too late; it slipped out of your grip like butter in a frying pan. “Oh no!”

The cart raced down the hill, gaining momentum and speed the farther it went. Crowds of people gasped as well, jumping and throwing themselves out of the speeding wagon’s path, until…

It reached the bottom, but it kept going. And it was headed right for Rei. 

Horror-stricken, you jolted, racing down whilst cupping your lips to scream out a warning call. “Rei! Look out!!”

Rei turned around. Her eyes widened.

But she remained unscathed. In the blink of an eye something dark and ink-like had raced over the pavement and grass fields; it manifested beneath the wheels, and the cart just...stopped.

“Rei!!” You cried, letting go of Carrots to plunder to her side. She’d fainted, but Han was there to catch her.

Han…

You stared him down nervously from the other side. “...How did you get here so fast?”

He carried your friend to the shade of the forest surrounding the city walls, others whispering and already beginning to spread gossip. You tried to block it out and ignore the intense stares and glaring from eighty-or-so business-competitors, following Rei’s limp body and coming to rest beside it, pulling her head into your lap. 

Though you were out of earshot, the whispering and curious eyes still followed you; so not good for business.

“Hey. I asked you something,” you said again, making sure to keep one eye on him, and one on the cart. “How did you get down there before I did? I didn’t even see you move.”

The strange boy didn’t say anything, save for laughing a bit. He then proceeded to ask you the oddest thing: “A man, or a beast...do you think we have a choice? On what we want to be?”

“What?” Your brow furrowed to form one solid unibrow. “Don’t ignore me. I asked you first. How did you get down there so quickly?”

Still, he refused to answer. “Technically, I asked you first. So you have to answer me.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” you replied, “but I will call for help if you don’t answer me right now.”

Seeing the anger on your face, the boy calling himself Han looked out into the near-distance, at the line steadily encouching forward and now forming a beeline around your abandoned shop. “Well, given that we are out of earshot...it’s not much of a threat, but...still,” he shrugged, almost to himself. “I suppose we wouldn’t want that.”

He set himself down criss cross applesauce, next to Rei’s spaghetti legs. You huffed, attempting to protectively heave her a smidge closer to you. “Alright, well, go on.”

He gave you the goofiest grin. “Well, it’s quite simple, really! I just swooped under the wagon, and jimmied the breaks! Worked like a charm!”

You frowned, not at all appeased with that answer. “You...jimmied the brakes?”

“Yep!”

“And it just...stopped.”

“That’s right.”

“...You dove beneath a speeding wagon and managed to attach yourself underneath?”

“That’s what it sounds like~”

“That’s what it sounds like?!”

“Look, we can point fingers all day at who-did-what, but if you don’t hurry and get back in line, you’re not gonna have any place at all to set up your little shop of knick knacks or...whatever it is that you sell. Is that a snow globe?” He asked, reaching for Rei’s bag. You swatted his hand away.

“...Fine, whatever. Thanks for saving her, I guess…”

“And?”

You pressed a kerchief from your pocket to Rei’s forehead, smoothing ebony locks from her face. “And?”

Han smiled. Again. “You gotta pay me back somehow, right?”

“For doing a good deed? Do I?” You scoffed. “And here I thought you were doing it just to be kind…”

“Well now you know~ ...I mean—“ He swallowed at the glare you gave him. “...What I mean is, I did do it. To be kind. But I’d love if it you could still pay me back by coming with me to—“

“I’m not going anywhere with you or your dumb friend, if that’s what you’re asking. Just save it for the birds.”

Rei was starting to stir, twitching slightly, her eyes squinting in and out of consciousness. You began patting her cheeks and calling her name, but unfortunately, she still wasn’t fully there yet. That, and the annoying man at the other side of her wasn’t finished. “I have a proposal for you,” he stated.

“A proposal?” You didn’t like the sound of that. “...I’m not interested. Look, I’ll just, give you something from my shop, and you can be on your merry way, okay? Here, what about that snow globe you were eyeing before?” You reached over Rei’s body, fishing it out and handing him the novelty. “Take it. It’s yours.”

The glass globe held the contents of a small gray castle, surrounded in a sea of red roses. Han took the globe from your hand, examining the structure and looking almost nostalgically somber as he watched the fake snow fall. “...Thank you, but it’s not what I want.”

“Then what do you want?” You groaned. “Look, just take whatever. I don’t care, it doesn’t matter. I have more important things to worry about right now.”

“...What I want,” Han said, ignoring that last part of your statement, “is for you to answer my question.”

“What? What quest— aah, I told you already, I’m not—!”

“A man, or a beast? As individuals, do we have a choice?”

The way he’d cut you off and stated his query so seriously made your head spin; it certainly caught you off guard, that was for sure. “...I’m sorry...I don’t understand the question.”

“Hmm…” Han thought. “...Imagine you were put under a...spell. A spell that turned you into a hideous monster, with fangs and claws and fur in places you’d never imagined...but it comes and goes, this curse of yours.” He tilted his head. “Are you still human? Or are you now a beast?”

Thoughts slowly circled your mind, not knowing what to think. You had no idea where any of this had come from, the only responses coming to mind countering questions: who is Han, what is he up to, why did he want to know what you thought of such a peculiar idea…

“Well?” He egged, leaning backwards.

“...I...I don’t know,” you confessed, listing your gaze aside. “I really have no idea where you got such a crazy idea from.”

“Okay...then let me ask you this. I’ll help you out.”

What? Help you out?

He leaned forward this time. “Do you think we have a choice? Is it possible to define ourselves as one or the other?”

“Well...yes, I would think so.” Your eyes met his, hoping that if you gave him an honest answer, perhaps he would leave. “We all have a choice— to be monsters, or men. It is not a matter of blood, or a spell, but a condition of the heart.”

You didn’t know it, as you’d turned away; but the moment those words left your parted lips, his eyes shone with the hope of a thousand suns, dawning the horizon after the longest winter storm. 

You’d turned away to shuffle for a bucket and some more handkerchiefs in Rei’s Bag of Wonders, holding out the bucket without turning your eyes away. “I changed my mind. Make yourself useful and get me some water from the nearby stream, or in town, whatever. Just—“

But when you cast your eyes back to where Han was sitting, he was gone.

| Two ❧

“You must have been having one hell of a dream to stay passed out for so long.”

“Ahaha…” Rei buried her fingers in her hair, entangling them in the sea of ebony that flowed behind her and came to a steady delta tied near the ends. “Sorry about that. It was like I wanted to wake up, but I just couldn’t. Like something...some kind of invisible wall was preventing me from doing so.”

“Hmm…”

The two of you had made it into town safely, with little trouble other than what you’d previously gone through with that strange boy, Han. After getting checked in and circling the shopping district three times, your luck finally began turning around when one of the vendors apparently felt ill and decided to turn in early; bad for him, but great for the two of you. The spot couldn’t have been more perfect, either: positioned right in the center of all the hustle and bustle, it attracted plenty of attention, and the moment you set up shop, customers came lining up at the window.

The two of you worked for hours to make up lost time, grinding your fingers to the bone, shuffling around each other to count coins, search for wares, and sign receipts of official purchase. By the time the lunch bell rang, you and Rei were about ready to fall over.

“I’m tired,” Rei moaned, collapsing to her knees and digging under the counter for your grocery supply. Woefully, her hand came back...empty. “Ah, we’re all out of bread! And apples…”

“What about that bag of trail mix you bought two days ago?” You asked while organizing receipts. Someone had to do it, and you knew Rei sure as heck wasn’t going to.

She sighed, shaking her head. “Carrots and I polished it off yesterday. ...Oh, carrots.” Her stomach growled right on cue, a forlorn sigh escaping dry lips. “...I’m so hungry...”

Something about that previous statement made you pause, inclining your head to the right in thought. …Carrots…Carrots…?

...Oh no. Oh hell’s bells, you’d completely forgotten about Carrots!

Without a moment to lose you dropped the stack of receipts you’d been tidying up onto the counter, hopping out of the wagon and running as fast as your boot-clad feet could take you. Your knees were still stiff and exhaustion weighed you down, but you couldn’t allow that to stop you. Not when that poor (dumb) horse was wandering and hopefully still waiting for you.

“Hey!” Rei yelled, her head leaning out the window. “Where are you going?! You forgot your coin purse!” She waved said object in the air, as if asking for a thief to come and swipe it. “I want lemons and some gum drops! I saw a candy shop about a block down!!”

“You can’t have candy for lunch!” You hollered back. “And I can’t right now, you’ll have to get lunch yourself today. There’s something I forgot.”

Her confused expression said everything else for her, but you didn’t have time to chat about lunch plans. You had to get that horse.

You ran with all your might (what little you had left) out of the shopping district, down three blocks, and past the city gate...that is, until a guard stopped you.

“Woooah there, little miss.” The man grabbed your arm, effectively pulling you backward; and he had quite the grip to boot. “I’m afraid you can’t just go hauling eighty out here like that. I’ll need to see some I.D.”

You cast anxiety-riddled eyes to the man, making sure each gesture showcased your anger. “What? To leave the city? ...But I’m leaving, not entering!” Your anxious gaze sought out into the trees, the pastures of bitter decay and spooky autumn silence where Carrots was last seen. “Please, I need to get out there. My horse is missing, I’m afraid I forgot about her after a...mishap...and ended up abandoning her. She’s sick, so I don’t have time to play games!”

“That’s all fine and dandy, ma’am, but rules are rules. Show me your I.D., please.”

“I…! …”

Reluctantly, you yanked your arm away, digging for…

...Nothing, because you’d forgotten your coin purse. The image of Rei waving it with pride and worry left a bitter taste in your mouth. And your vendor verification permit was left in the shop, as well. “...I don’t have any. My permit is with my co-partner, back in the shopping district.”

“Hm. Well, you’ll just have to go back and get it, then.”

“What?! I don’t have time for that!” You turned pleading eyes to the officer, prayerfully searching for understanding alongside a missing horse. “Please sir, she couldn’t have wandered very far. I’ll be right back! I’m only going--”

He shook his head. “Sorry miss, like I said, rules are rules. Because of the recent string of kidnappings, all residents and visitors alike are required to provide valid identification before coming in or leaving city walls. Mayor’s orders.”

You’d been thinking about making a run for it or finding another guard to reason with until the word kidnappings made its way into the conversation. Normally you would have been curious and not too concerned...however… 

...That’s considering you heard it from a local paper floating in the breeze, or along the gossiping grapevine from one vendor to another, one chatty socialite to the next whispering to each other among the lively bustle of city life. Why were you just now hearing about it here? From an officer? How long had this been going on?

In all the questioning silence, you basically forgot about...what was it you were looking for again? “Um, forgive me for prying, but...kidnappings?”

“...E-Er...that’s...” The officer flinched, taking a half step back. “...Um...well...dammit all…” He removed his thick uniform hat, scratching his head a moment before readjusting it to fit tall and proud. He cleared his throat. “...Please forget I said anything. If you wish to leave the city, I’ll need to see some valid I.D.”

“......”

He simply stood there, pretending as if nothing had happened. The only proof you had was the sweat swimming along his forehead, but surely he’d blame that on the nonexistent autumn heat and the fullness of his uniform.

You had no choice but to reenter the masses.

- ❧ -

When you return to the gates, the same officer approved of your vending license (still sweating from that “autumn heat,”) signalling for the men in the tower to let you through. It was late afternoon now, the skyline growing dangerously close to dusk; when you’d returned to shop a while earlier, you couldn’t admit to Rei that you’d lost her best friend next to you (though some friend she was having no idea about the whole thing...), so you were left with little choice but to play along and have lunch until it was time to work again. The late-day crowds were always far less stressful than morning shifts, so confident she would be fine on her own you took back off for the South entrance the moment the work bell rang.

“Carrots...Carrots...looking for a food-poisoned horse…”

Sigh. The words were a groan from your lips as you trudged about a floor of dead leaves and twisted bare tree branches. The skyline was starting to wear thin, every step you took noisy and either resulting in startling a field mouse or alerting a wandering bear out of hibernation of your whereabouts. Not an ideal situation to be in.

I’ve been wandering these woods for three hours now. Dang it, where is she?! ...Normally, Carrots was a good horse; she followed you around, did as told, and when you did lose her (...as this wasn’t the first time…) she stayed put and waited for you to return; like that time in Cresentmoon Harbor (for it was literally shaped like a crescent), when you and Rei had been so distracted by some dashingly handsome fisherman named Minhee and wanted to hear his tales of the rough blue sea that you’d, yes, left your horse astray, where a group of thugs almost snatched her. 

That had actually been a fun day, watching Rei throw apples and trinkets and club the ringleader with his own beatstick. This time, however, you’d known exactly where you left her. You were sure there were no gangs or thugs near a place like this; not a clean-cut, safeguarded place like Westwind...any yet, Carrots hadn’t been there. Not at the top of the hill where you left her, or beneath it, beside it, or anywhere nearby.

...Although...didn’t that cityguard mention something about kidnappings?!

That stupid horse. I knew I should have overruled Rei and named her Dumdum. She went and got herself kidnapped! URGH, I had to go pulling the short end of the stick today--

A sharp wind blew by without warning, causing you to shiver. Mournfully, you wondered if maybe you should turn back and enlist Rei’s help after all...have her summon back that courageous, beatstick-smacking frenzy… 

Oh, but how heartbroken she’d be to hear of Carrot's disappearance! ...It was all for naught, though... 

Carefully, you turned around and began walking the way you came, one step, then two...then stopped. Looking out into the moors, the forest beyond, the stretch of trees and forest decay that went on for miles and miles seemed...different, somehow. It went on for miles and miles and...miles and miles and miles. It didn’t seem to have an end.

I know I didn’t walk that far… Now now, Y/n. Can’t see the forest for the trees, hm? It’s no big deal, I just wandered a bit farther than I thought. I’ll start heading back now.

Because Rei was the fun-loving, clueless bubbly-type, you had to be the strong one (not including Wild, Pissed-Off Rei). You were the confident, analytical, and ambitious of the two. You prefered logic and data, and relied almost whole-heartedly on common sense, with few exceptions. And as any rational person of your nature would, you’d made sure to mark the entire way you’d come; so it was no big deal, wandering out a bit farther than you had intended. 

...Except...

...The first marker never came. Not after five minutes, not after ten. You walked in the opposite direction for precisely 1,000 steps and counting, and all that greeted you were the same exact scene of bare trees and dead leaves. In the same order. In the same tones and volumes and shapes.

It was going to start getting dark in the next two hours. You stopped, thinking. Running numbers. Fishing for data…...fishing…...fish…...Minhee...heheh…

No, no! Staying on track was crucial at a time like this…! 

But you ended up standing there, for another ten, twenty minutes maybe, not sure what to do. There was a strange vibe in the air, you could feel it. The way it wafted through the air and settled on your skin. Rattling your bones. It almost felt like it was bribing you in another direction. 

So you did an illogical thing unlike your nature: you kept walking straight ahead, ignoring it for as long as you could. But dammit, the scenery never changed! Not after an hour, not after two… 

You were tired at this point, collapsing hopelessly by the same tree you passed a hundred times...and then you got an idea, like a fog lifting from your brain (Why hadn’t you thought of this sooner?!). Grabbing a twig, you made a small notch in the tree. Then you took off running, jogging at a brisk pace. Never making a single right or left turn, not even in the slightest. Headed only one direction, following alongside the setting sun.

That same notch bid you a pleasant hello eight and a half minutes later. To make sure it wasn’t just a coincidence, you walked another eight and a half minutes; same notch, same place, same twig resting lifelessly to the right. Same tree.

It was getting dark now. Soon the sun would be completely gone over the horizon, tucked away for twelve hours of sleep before returning to shine light on a new day. And you had no horse to show for it; more importantly, you were lost. Trapped in some kind of...weird bermuda triangle of decaying forest with no sign of life anywhere. 

Great, just great. I hate my luck… wait… 

...Ah, yes. Conveniently, just when you’d thought to possibly scream out your frustrations into your work apron, rattling on about how much luck despises you, and how you despise her back, maybe shed a few tears since no one was around, a tower of billowing smoke caught your attention, a sign of life that hadn’t been there before. 

. . . 

You should have been more cautious. Normally, you would have been. But given recent events…

“Hello…?” You called softly, pushing the door open; though, let’s be honest, the door really seemed to just...open itself. “Is anybody here?”

The house was old and worn. A small cottage just big enough for one, it must have been at some point; now, it was practically all but decayed along with the surrounding forest. Another heap of dead wood and rotted roots among many. A faintly ripe and sickeningly sweet scent wafted about the torn chamber, wrapping around sagging furniture, torn drapes, and a half-caved roof that gave clear sight to the full moon, bulging and cackling in a clouded manner.

It was a stark contrast to the decrepit old woman beckoning you from within. 

“Yes, yes… Come in, my child.”

| Three ❧

A few hours earlier, Han Jisung had just been minding his own business, a faceless shadow of a dark hood browsing Westwind goods, humming a fiery tune, all while coming up with a plan for smuggling an innocent human girl into the cursed city of New Amber. He was pleasantly aware of the time; he had exactly ten hours left before he was due back at the palace, girl in tow, in order to keep his handsome blue-haired head and devilishly charming eyes.

He had time. The two cities may have been four hours apart on horseback, a diagonal stretch of twisted forest and steep valleys between them, but being a shadow he could just-- ...zip...and zig...and...zag...right beneath the… … … 

...He wouldn’t be returning alone. He was transporting a human girl. That had no magical curse or powers to speak. The only way to return was the old-fashioned way...which meant…

He only had half the time he thought he did. Balls.

Making his way through the afternoon crowds, he followed three winding back alleyways before making sure the coast was clear of wandering eyes, seeping into the broken cobblestone and dashing through history below, long forgotten structures and fossils of stories past: a mineshaft, a tavern sign, a snuffed-out bonfire. At just a block away he set out a brisk pace for where he last placed a tracking mark upon the one known as Rei.

It had been a simple plan; since Y/n was impossible to get near, he merely embedded a small tadpole of his shadowy spirit into the other. Since they traveled together, where one was found, the other wouldn’t be far behind. Find Rei, find Y/n.

But beside that fact, it was starting to itch; being without a part of him for too long caused an empty, nagging feeling to rise and fall through his bones like a waxing, waning tide, going back and forth, back and forth. It got downright maddening after a while, almost like an addiction, to the point where eventually, he couldn’t stand to be without himself any longer. If he wasn’t whole, what was he?

...For a shadow...being whole meant everything.

“I see you’re feeling better,” he greeted her, the girl whose life he very well saved. Rei turned around from her stockpile of cash, where she placed many bags of coins in the Candy For Me! ♫ pile and few in the Dumb Taxes :( pile.

“Oh, hey, I know you!” Her face lit up tenfold; an oddity given the fact she should have been unconscious for ninety-percent of their previous encounter... “You’re the guy that saved me before! I thought you looked familiar!”

She threw a tarp over the stacks of cash she’d been organizing before, as if that was going to...protect it, or something. She rested her chin in palm, elbows propped upon the counter space. Smiled.

“So what brings you by? What can I help you with? Oh,” she smirked, wagging a single brow. “Could I interest you in this love potion?” 

A bottle of perfume made its way between them from out of nowhere, dangling like mistletoe. It...Han couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of it. 

“You wouldn’t happen to be looking for Y/n by chance, would you~?” Rei asked.

The proposed bottle had the painted label scratched off, where the replaced paint job read Love Potion No.9, along with a price tag of thirty-five coins. Han chuckled, doing his best to play off the awkward gesture. He had to tear his eyes away from it.

“Thank you, but no,” he stated, gently lowering her arm to the table. The sliver of his missing portion swam back into him, through his fingertips and up his arm, and this didn’t seem to go unnoticed by Rei, though he distracted her into shrugging it off. “I actually am looking for Y/n, if you happen to know where she is? I suppose you’re right about that part, actually.”

“Oh? Really?!” Rei’s face lit tenfold...again. She squealed. “Eeeeek, I knew it! Oh, I just love when this happens!”

Her face thrust straight into his, nearly close enough to kiss. It startled him into backing distance. 

“What is it?!?” She cried excitedly. “What do you need to see her for?! Oh, please tell me it’s to exchange letters! Or trinkets!” She looked like the shadiest business woman ever in the next second. “Y/n may have said she was organizing paperwork, but I knew what was really going on. Tee-hee!”

“...Ahh…” ...Shoot, what the hell was he supposed to say?! This girl didn’t seem like the type to appreciate being let down... “...There’s something I…” He gulped. “There’s something I wish to show her. Before setting out, that is.”

“Oh…” Her frown encased her disappointment. “I see...well, actually…” She twirled a strand of sleek black hair away from her tan complexion. “Y/n left about an hour ago...no, it has to have been longer than that…” Her frown deepened, looking off into the distance. “She took off as soon as lunch ended, and she hasn’t come back yet. I think she said she was looking for something…? But…” 

Now she was looking down vacantly into the counterspace. There was a dull sheen in her eyes.

“...I’m starting to worry. Y/n never just runs off for hours on end like this. It’s not like her at all. ...What if something…”

Han put a stop to that thought: one, because he hated seeing girls cry, and two, because he could tell she was the messy-crier that would get snot and tissues everywhere, including his hair and earring; also there was three: his ass on a silver platter, courtesy of His Angry-Cursed-Forever Highness. If he failed to secure Y/n…

He didn’t wanna think about it. Which is why he swiftly set Rei upright, patting her shoulders and promising that he would go out and look for her. She couldn’t have wandered far, seeing as her whole livelihood was on the line (and in the hands of someone like Rei…whom he didn’t know that well, but still…)

“Can you give me an idea of where she may have gone? Which way did she go?”

“Yeah, sure! She went that way, and, oh yeah, she took our vending license with her! Do you think she could have gone to City Hall, maybe…?”

It was unlikely. City Hall was in the other direction, to the north-east; and according to Rei, Y/n had ventured south. The only thing there was lower-class common folk and the city gates, meaning the only conclusion he could come to was that she needed to verify her legitimacy in order to continue business, or she needed out.

After questioning some guards under a guise of glamour and shade (which was necessary for...private reasons), he was at last directed to a middle-aged man who claimed to have allowed the girl to leave some three to four hours ago. Before they could get an answer out of him as to why he wanted to know, Han vanished into the shadows like a thief in the night, slipping through the straying crowds towards the nearest alleyway, where he plopped down, zipped below, and popped right back up on the other side of the great city wall.

Removing his hood, he looked around, scanning the area for any clues of Y/n’s whereabouts. But, of course, nothing.

Dammit, it was getting late! It was already late!

Han bit his nails, fuming. Pacing. He was going to be in so much trouble if he didn’t…!

...Sigh. Screw it all. He’d just have to look for her. If he found her fast enough, he could come up with some plan to make it back to Everain before sunrise.

He began his search heading South, into the clamour of trees. Past one tree, two, five, twenty. Deeper and deeper he traveled, gradually becoming one with the earth and expanding his search among the elements. Beneath the earth, brushing against roots of trees and flowerbeds, he could “see” everything-- as far as a twelve mile radius. 

His shadowed extensions stretched over the land, covering all ground within reach like the hands of a clock, time traveling faster and faster until…!

...He found it. Er, her. His senses zoomed in on a house, caved in from years of age and resentment, crumbling to dust even now outside the confines of Y/n...and……someone else…

...Someone he knew.

Out of breath, he nearly choked in the enclosure of his own realm, eyes wide and heart frozen stiff. It took every last bit of strength to push himself free, for he couldn’t escape fast enough; not when a demonic witch like her was around. 

Except...he’d started to run the wrong way. And then he stopped entirely, unable to move.

He hated that decrepit old hag. After everything that happened...the magic, the sorrow, the black fires of hell...he wanted nothing to do with her. He’d sworn that the moment he saw her again, it would be too soon. The witch that had taken his humanity.

It was she who had cast them all to hell in a handbasket, after all.

Standing there beneath the blotted night, gentle caresses of wind cascading and percolating through strands of brown and blue, he looked down to his bare hands, setting focus to the rivets of small scars where rivers of shadow flooded his veins.

A knock at the door. A sneer. A warning glare.

He tightened his grip on the air, so free and billowing carelessly in contrast to him.

A push. A harsh remark. A confident smile.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

Anger… Resentment… Fire…

And…then…

He gasped for air once more. Not now. Now was not the time to think. He needed to act, to push all of this past him. It was the only way to break the curse and save Hyunjin, and in return, himself. The entire palace of Everain— the whole city, perhaps— was counting on him.

...Shadow. The only thing I remember...is black.

 Cringing, he threw caution to the wind, where fear was meant to reside with the birds.

- ❧ -

The house was as old and vile as the woman who lived there. Vines snaked and slithered their way around the entire enclosure like a brood of thorned vipers, between cracks in the wall panels and over the steps leading to a gaping front door, just asking to trip its prey into it’s dark clutches. Into her clutches; those wrinkled leathered hands dripping with metaphorical blood and darkness.

Han hated all of it. He’d known about the Witch’s home for a long time, but he refused to ever step foot on her accursed soil (...until now, that is). The problem was, her biome was always changing, shifting and teleporting all over the place. Few unlucky souls who had survived to see it dubbed it Howl’s Moving Castle.

That title entirely ruined the book for him. Not that he particularly enjoyed reading, anyway; but he refused to lift it or so much as look at the book’s spine resting in the lavish, dusty library back home.

“Hey,” he called, marching right in. There wasn’t time for cold feet or second thoughts; if he didn’t have Y/n, there would be no point in going back. Returning without Y/n meant certain death via Hyunjin, but going through the Witch’s Biome meant likely death via whatever disdainful plot the Witch could come up with. At least facing the Witch’s path, he had a slim chance of making it out alive. If he were fast enough.

He’d thought about it on the way over: before, he had no powers to speak of. He’d been a regular, average teenage boy just trying to make it up and through adulthood, figuring out what he wanted to do with his life. But with the Witch’s curse, all that changed; he was essentially one with the darkness; and darkness was everywhere. Especially here. 

Assuming Y/n was conscious and able to move, he calculated that with high enough confidence and self-esteem, he should have no problem distracting the foul old hag long enough for his last hope to escape. (And Lord knew he had plenty of that to go around...)

Darkness clouded the entire room, choking out all light save for a few small rays of moonlight. The temperature seemed to be dropping 10 degrees every second. “Hello?” He tried again, checking left, right. “I...I know you’re here. Witch.” He was already beginning to seethe. “Come out. Where is Y/n?”

There was no response. Nothing creaked, no one croaked. Not even the wind outside made a sound.

Then something darted behind him, to the right, and he parried the opposite direction, biting his lower lip. Here it came. The worst part.

A single field mouse made its way into the faint slivers of rooftop moonlight. And there it sat, perched on its hind legs, whiskers twitching and tail dancing rhythmically across the uneven floor.

“How do you like?” came a creaky frail voice from beyond. Her voice was a sour note to his ears.

Han gritted his teeth, tasting blood on the horizon. “I’m not here to rate your latest experiments,” he spat. “That better not be Y/n. Show yourself, now.”

A lingering moment passed before the fleabag chuckled, stepping ancient bones into the small pool of light. “Alright, alright,” she said, in a mockingly chiding tone. “No need to get so angry. That’s what got your friend into so much trouble, after all. And look what it did to you.”

Two minutes in, and she was already hitting a nerve. Nerves that needed to remain untouched were his plan to go smoothly. “Don’t tell me what to do. I don’t take orders from you. You already ruined me. What more could you possibly do?”

A dark foreboding thought brewed up a storm in her eyes, just lingering on the edge of sanity. “Believe me,” she rasped, “I showed you both mercy.”

Han flinched. He couldn’t help it. He wanted to explode, yet cower in terror, all at once. He was livid, yet terrified-- anxious-- and a little sick to his stomach. “Give me Y/n. Right now. I didn’t come here to chat.”

The old woman smiled. “I can’t,” she simply stated, not moving an inch.

“Why not?!”

“Because you’re standing on her.”

Horrified, Han shot his gaze downward. Corsarn, he didn’t think he’d been standing on anything but the…!

But there was nothing but paled wooden planks. The Witch laughed. “Ahahah, not physically on her, dear. Though this house is so old, you may as well be...I’m surprised the floors haven’t caved in to match the roof.”

After holding her gaze a moment too long, he took a step back, flitting his eyes between Witch and supposedly underground wardrobe. “Open the door. Slowly.”

“Oh, so now I’m supposed to be taking your orders?” She scoffed, sighing at the end. “My, how times have changed…”

“Just do it!” he ordered.

The Witch gave a stern, slight scowl. “Oh, fine. I’m out of enough magic to put another curse on you anyway,” she muttered. Tapping her ancient walking stick once, twice upon the rotting floors, something clicked below, and the square space where Han had been standing swung open. “Just so you know,” she added, “I took the liberty of having a little fun, as you probably already guessed. She’ll be out for a few hours, but I don’t foresee death in her future; at least, not in the near one,” she chuckled.

“You--!” ...Rrgh. He still had to bite his tongue. His lip was already going to be busted and sore tomorrow. 

Trotting down steadily with caution, before the gaze of a putrid old smile he descended the hidden staircase, never once letting his guard down. The girl he sought was safely snoozing in one piece, lying like a waking dream...other than being unconscious.

He gathered her up, using shadow to cross the room, just in case a trap was lying dormant on the way over, and with Y/n in his arms, he almost thought about attempting to drag her into the Shadowworld with him, just so he didn’t have to face the old has-been again and make a clean getaway.

But it was too risky. And likely, it wouldn’t work; so carefully, he placed one nimble foot in front of the other, across the blank room, up the stairs, and into the familiar darkness from moments before. The Witch was still waiting for him, still as a statue in the exact location she had been. She followed him all the way to the door, tittering at his suspicion of the whole thing. 

She then watched as they made it off the porch. “Here,” she announced, sensing his urgency; for he’d just been about to make a run for it before she called him.

Nervously, he turned around halfway, holding Y/n tighter.

The bat continued her chuckling. She scooped down surprisingly swift, tossing something gray and furry into the air. It landed haphazardly onto his arm, clinging for dear life to his sleeve with a faint squeak! before scampering up to his shoulder. “Take him,” she said, making a shooing motion with her hand. “I have no need for the pitiful thing. He can keep you company on your way back.”

Company? Oh, no no no. He didn’t think so. He wasn’t stupid; Han knew of her tricks. The rat was probably a spy, or some kind of ticking time bomb. Forcefully, he shifted his grip on the girl, snatching the creature from its place--

...Except, he meant to throw it back. He did. He would have tossed the wretched thing to the ground and stomped on its brains without a second thought.

But it’d cried. Shrieked. Wailed. He knew the sound of terror when it howled.

Glancing up, he saw that it was crying. Actually crying.

Something was off. It had to be human...or at least, have some sort of intelligent wit.

Loosening his grip, he allowed the creature to squirm and wiggle its way free, scampering up his arm and tucking itself fearfully in the pouch of his hood with a nosedive. Sensations of trembling fell against his upper backside.

“Take care on your way home; you may need it.” 

A twisted smile. Tch.

Glowering amongst the laughter, he left the darkness behind him.

| Four ❧

“How may I assist you, dear?” The old woman asked.

Your eyes scanned the area, dilating and adjusting to the faint light. “I’m sorry,” you began, giving a small, polite bow. “I didn’t know anyone was home.”

“Oh, now, that’s alright~” The woman insisted, beckoning you farther in. “Come, come, sit! Make yourself a home. I’m the one who invited you in, yes?”

“...” Carefully you nodded, moving with caution to take a seat at the dusty worn table. 

“Now,” she said, popping joints as she settled across from you. “What can I do for you today?”

“...Do for me?”

She chuckled. “Yes, yes…” Her eyes were impenetrable, boring into yours. You had trouble looking away. “No one comes here without a purpose. There are no happy accidents.”

“......” Again, you found yourself hesitating, having trouble forming the right words. Words were becoming a limited resource all of a sudden. 

“Well~?” the woman pressed.

“...” You swallowed dryly. Something just wasn’t right; but who were you to lie to an old woman? In her own home, nonetheless. “I’m looking for someone...my horse, actually.”

“Hmm, I see…”

“She wandered off...well, no, that’s not true.” You sighed. “I left her by accident. I abandoned her without meaning to, out front of Westwind city. We’d woken up late, my friend and I, and in our hurry and a near-death experience thanks to someone, I ended up forgetting all about her. When I went back to fetch her and bring her home, she was gone.”

“Oh, my…” The old woman was still smiling. “That sounds like some adventure the two of you had! Though, tell me…” She tilted her head. “Who is this “someone” that got in your way?”

“Hm? Oh,” You sighed, again. “Some strange boy that just showed up out of nowhere and offered to help me move the cart downhill. He’s no one special.”

The woman chuckled. “Well, he must be to have stepped up and offered you assistance in this day and age,” she replied. “What was his name?”

There was an intensity you didn’t like. As if she were interrogating you for answers. 

Dryly, again, you swallowed.

“Han-something, I think. Han...Jisung.”

That’s when it had been over. But you hadn’t known that; not yet.

“Han Jisung…” The woman repeated. She was clearly searching the archives. 

Then she found what she was looking for, and curving crooked fingers skyward, she beckoned your hands to be placed atop of her on the table.

“Give me your hands, dear. I know just what it is that you need.”

If only you hadn’t listened to her… 

- ❧ -

You were no fool. You saw what the witch had done to you, just before falling unconscious.

Stirring now, you curled into the weight of something dark and soft, something sheltering and warm against the cold night air. Whatever it was held you tighter, the world slowing down.

“Y/n? Are you alright? Can you hear me?”

Ow. Yes.

One of the side-effects must have been a splitting headache…

“Yes...I can hear--”

Rrpt! Hold on a second. You knew that voice…!

In all haste you shot upright, only to collide foreheads with Han Jisung, the both of you growling in pain. Your headache just got ten times worse.

“Ow…! Sh*t, of all times and places…” After counting one, two Mississippis for the pounding to decrease, you sent him a glare, blurry vision mixed with clouded judgement. “What are you doing? What’s going on, where are you taking me?!”

The foolish boy snorted, ignoring you to continue walking. As your eyes cleared of drowsiness, you could see the two of you were alone, out in the middle of the forest. “A simple thank you wouldn’t hurt, y’know. I did just finish saving your life a few hours ago.”

“You…?” Hesitantly, you looked around again, pressing a hand to your forehead in feeble attempt to decrease anymore throbbing heartbeats. “...Where are we? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Put me down this instant.”

“You sure do ask a lot of questions for someone who was just cursed and knocked out.”

“I said, put me--! …” 

You paused. The whole world seemed to.

Carefully, slowly, you turned your face back towards the sunlight. “...Wh...What did you say?” 

Han snorted. Again. “You heard me. You waltzed right into the Witch’s Biome like an idiot, and now you’re one of us. I don’t know what I’m going to tell Hyunjin…”

...You’d stop listening towards the end. Everything just naturally tuned out, your eyes falling aimlessly to stare vacant holes into the dimensional rift of the traveling space around you. 

“In case you’re wondering,” Han’s voice cut through, calling for your attention once more. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m taking you to my friend; well, he’s really more of my...uhm…”

You waited vacantly for an answer.

“...Uhhh…”

You didn’t have time for this. Not that anything mattered or made sense anymore. Still, you weren’t going to idly sit here and listen to Tweedle Dee make dumb noises the rest of the night. “He’s what?” you pressed, aggravation clearly showing. “Is he your master or something?”

Han Jisung nearly dropped your hungover cursed arse. Which told you you were right, even if he kept insisting you were wrong. It was pretty funny to see him fuming and hot under the collar the rest of the walk.

Speaking of walking, you had fidgeted and demanded to walk by yourself, but after nine nos and a tenth yes, you found you had absolutely no strength in your wobbly, jelly-like legs. Resulting in Han carrying you like an unfortunate groom once more.

Yes, you’d argued for him to take you back. But no, he refused.

Which meant he had to be that kidnapper the city guard mentioned after all.

This lead you to be afraid, and rightly so; what if Han killed you?! What if he actually was dangerous, and he had been lying to you from the start. Nothing he’d been saying up until this point made sense anyway; and just look at the way he was dressed. Only crazy people wore such strange, unusual attire, so futuristic and bizzare-looking. 

And, you noticed, the closer you got to...wherever he was taking you...the more and more his appearance changed.

It was gradual, slow at first; just a random strand of hair, a speck of color in his eye that hadn’t been there before. Then, out of nowhere, it was like time sped up around him, and his eyes became a solid, bright blue, his hair a darker contrast, and that lone earring he wore shimmered with a paradoxical bright darkness, like shadows giving birth to light.

It was...insanity. Yet, regrettably, you had to admit he’d grown incredibly attractive. 

Han didn’t speak much the second half of your trip, and neither did you. You were too busy trying to process what was happening, and he was lost in his own world, eyes never leaving the road ahead except to occasionally check on you. It was a nonverbal communication: Are you still doing okay? / Yes, I’m fine. Quit staring at me. / Yeah, okay, you’re welcome.

About two hours later, the two of you arrived at the gates of an old, rustic castle, and a city that looked all but lost.

| Five ❧

Your headache had at last subsided by the time you arrived at Everain Palace. ...Or at least, that’s what the sign said it was called. You were barely able to read it through the layers of rust and vines, however. “This is the place?”

“Yep,” your entourage announced, setting you down beside him. “It’s been a few hours now, so you should have the strength to walk again, at least to your room. But I’m sure I can get some lackey somewhere to carry you the rest of the way if you can’t manage.”

“Hold on...what?”

“What?”

He finished setting you down, and you wobbled your way back a few steps, leaning against the gate’s archway for support. “I’m not staying here. I can’t. I have to get back to Rei and find Carrots, my stupid horse. Then, I’m renaming her Dumdum and we’re sweeping all of this under the rug.”

Instead of laughing, or perhaps getting a little angry even, Han Jisung stared at you with the most pitiful glance anyone had ever given another human soul. It was dreadful, but soft, somewhat loving, and oozing with regret.

And then he said those abysmal words you were scared of hearing all along.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. But I’m afraid you won’t be traveling anywhere anytime soon.”

You stared at him dumbfounded. This was it, you thought. The truth revealed. He really was a kidnapper; and now, you were his next victim. The whole charmingly dopey and idiotic act had been just that: an act. And you’d fallen for it.

So you did the next thing you could think of, seeing as fighting and running away were out of the question in your weak and disoriented state.

“KIDNAPPER!!!” You screamed. “THIEF! HUMAN TRAFFICKING!! HELP!!!”

But soon you remembered your surroundings, where you were at this time: a rundown city that appeared to have been abandoned for years, closed off in an eternal slumber. Everything was covered in vines and dust, and hardly anything made a sound.

You were doomed.

Han rushed over quick to keep your mouth shut while sweating at the seams, but a chomp to his hand did him right good, and while he was bouncing around and airing out his hand like a blubbering buffoon you tried making a run for it. Keyword: tried.

In the end, you only made it as far as the circle of trees isolating this town before something pierced the back of your neck, and you were a prisoner of sleep all over again.

- ❧ -

You aren’t quite sure; perhaps you slept for eight, nine hours. All you knew is that when you awoke, there was sunshine pouring through the curtain-laced window like the brightest waterfall.

A...curtain-laced window...and silk sheets… … … 

You hopped to it the next second that thought circled your mind.

No. Oh, no…

...This certainly wasn’t your room. Your room was with the stars, the ocean, the grassy plains and trees, Rei at your side. This was an actual room, complete with a bed, canopy, dresser and wardrobe, a nightstand, and an additional table with matching chairs, four to be exact; two large windows, standing side by side at opposite ends of the room to your left. One beside the table, one near the door.

There was a note left for you on the nightstand (to your left) as well.

Y/n -

I’m sorry I had to knock you out like that. But you’re one of us now, and I can’t afford to let you leave. It’s important. Lives are at stake. You have to trust me, please.

There’s someone I’d like for you to meet. More like I need you to. I’ll explain more later, when you’re awake. If you read this and you still don’t feel well, feel free to take another couple of hours to yourself, to get your bearings; but don’t sleep for too long. I’ll wake you when we’re more pressed for time.

Again, I’m really sorry about all this. I hope you can find it in you to forgive me, but I get it if you need more time. Just promise not to take it out on Hyunjin, if you happen to run into him first.

Signed, Han, your kidnapper

There was an additional piece of paper that fell from behind the original.

P.S. - That was just a joke. Don’t freak out. I’m not a bad guy, really. At least, not as bad as you probably think I am.

…

You didn’t know what to think of anything anymore. This was all just too much. What on earth had happened to you? How did you get roped into all of this? ...You’d just wanted to find Carrots, and bring her home so Rei wouldn’t be sad and you wouldn’t feel guilty and the two of you could save the trouble of having to buy a new horse, train him, yadda yadda yadda. Instead you stupidly and ill-fatedly stumbled upon the home of an actual witch, walked right in, and told her things you probably shouldn’t have. You didn’t like the way she’d looked at you when you mentioned knowing Han Jisung.

The Mark of the Rose, the witch had slurred, eyes wide with a sinister grin. A blessing, and a curse.

Then she’d spouted some sort of riddle:

When sunrise comes and all is lost, Look upon the oldtown cross There you’ll find just what you seek This aging woman’s prophecy But if yet still you manage to bend And find and seek what storm’s may rend May fortunes smile and bring you light For the many remaining days of your life

...She hadn’t told you what the heck any of that was supposed to mean. For one, how could plaguing you with a mark from some wicked sorcery be a blessing?! And, what’s more...how was it a curse…? ...Her strange chanting hadn’t made any sense, though that last part had sounded nice...maybe that was the blessing?

Something made a skittering, scuffling sound. Turning to your left, something small and fuzzy caught your eye, climbing up a chair leg and coming to rest on the cushion above. It was...holding a crumb of cheese. Sitting there like a person, flat on his bum.

It was some kind of rodent.

You bristled all over, hair standing on end. “A RAT!!!” You shrieked, leaping from bed to dresser. Thankfully it had been bare atop the surface, minus the unlit candle and some kind of ornate mirror, which was an unfortunate accident. Seven years of bad luck was just what you needed, on top of everything.

The moment you let out a cry of alarm, the mouse similarly screamed-- possibly louder than you-- spasming out of the chair and running in circles with sweat flying from its brow until it ran into another chair leg and clocked out, rolling into the path of sunlight.

You’d been about to grab that discarded candle as a weapon until the room became incredibly bright. Clouds parted from outside, sunlight magnifying to flood the whole room. 

And then, when the sunlight narrowed to pierce the unconscious vermin straight through its heart, he became a boy. 

Hair the color of sunset and cheeks flushed rosy pink, full of freckles scrunched his nose, squinted, and wearily stared back at you, upside down. Prayerfully, by some miracle, he was still wearing clothes.

That didn’t change the fact that you had no idea what to make of this sudden development. You stood there, hunched frozen atop the dresser, candle half off the floor and jaw nearly there.

“Hn-- nnnngh…” he groaned, sitting up with a hand to his head, much like you had leaving the Witch’s Biome-- that’s what Han had called it, right? “...Ouch...that’s the last time I go exploring on my own…” He glanced at you over his shoulder, giving a kind, tired smile. “Thanks for turning me back! I’m sorry I scared you, Y/n.”

Your candlestick went flying across the room. 

“OW!!!”

“WHO ARE YOU?! HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NAME?!” you yelled. An accusatory finger followed. “This isn’t funny, and I’ve been through enough now! I’m sick of playing games, give me an answer right now or I’m throwing this broken mirror next!”

The door burst open. “What’s going on in--?! …”

Han Jisung was staring at Mouseboy curiously at first, widen eyes unblinking, you on the dresser second, a careful blink there...but the moment his eyes landed on the cracked mirror, he fell to his knees, hands in his hair.

“OH SH*T!” He shrieked, panicstricken all over. His voice was more pitched than (should be) possible. “What the hell did you do?! Who did this?!?”

Innocently, Mouseboy pointed to you, as if he had any right to be part of the blame game. “It was an accident, though,” he vouched (like that was supposed to make it better!). “I did the same thing when I woke up and saw myself an hour ago; you should have seen it, I broke five of those things! Talk about unlucky!”

He laughed. Han screeched, looking like The Scream. “YOU DID WHAT?!?!”

There was going to be a river running through the room by the time he finished sweating, pacing all over the place while nearly showering the floor and furniture with strands of blue hair. Mouseboy scratched his speckled-cheek, shifting to rest on the calves of his brown-clad work pants (He’d obviously been some kind of farm or errand boy before all this). “S-Sorry about that...it was an accident, really…” He bowed his head. “I-I can maybe get my boss to cover any property damage, but man, I’ll be working forever to pay it off…”

He sighed. You almost (almost) felt bad for him. But it was gonna take a lot more than just looking cute and pitiful to sway your emotions.

When at last he’d finished his...episode...Han stood from where he’d kneeled in prayer on the pinewood floor, swiping a hand over his face, shaking it off, and placing determined hands on his hips. “Okay,” he declared. “It’s alright. I’ll just have to convince Jeongin to pull an all-nighter and fix everything. Good thing he knows a thing or two about craftsmanship!”

Jeongin? …

You faltered, repeating the name curiously as you hopped off the dresser, now that the vermin crisis was over. Thankfully, your absent-mindedness didn’t cost you any cuts or bruises, seeing as there very well could have been shards of broken glass on the floor…

Han smiled your way, nodding. “Yeah, that’s right. We have a lot of introductions to get out of the way, so if you’re ready...well, you might want to get dressed first.”

Even more curiously, you looked down to examine yourself.

An eggshell, lace nightgown greeted your eyes.

… … … 

Who changed you...?!?!

| Six ❧

“Right, so,” said Han, pointing to each stranger in a misfit-lineup. “This is Seungmin, Jeongin, and...Felix, right? ...Yeah, okay, Felix.” He smiled, gesturing to you next. “Family, this is Y/n.”

Everyone either waved or bid you their own form of greeting, some shy, others more open. Now dressed in a sea-green gown with white-lace trim and possibly the most gaudy over exaggerated bow in the back (smaller, matching ones on your shoes and hair), you did your best to curtsey, though it was awkward and embellished to say the least, and really you’d just used it as an excuse to hike up your quarter-calf socks that refused to stay put. “Yeah, alright...nice to--”

“And this...is Hyunjin.”

The air got a little colder all of a sudden; both metaphorically and otherwise. You glanced up from rebuckling the annoying Mary Jane’s on your feet. Froze.

A tall, slender man stepped forward from where he’d been leaning against the wall beneath the cloak of shadow in the hallway. Now, stepping forward in the light of a grand, deserted chapel, his dark hair combed back by rough fingers pressed for time, he was…he was… 

He was staring at you as if you’d hung the moon in the sky. His eyes were so round and...big. Practically moons themselves.

“......” Han cleared his throat, voicing everyone else’s discomfort. “Yes, well...okay, then. This is great! See?!” He motioned to you as if you were some kind of showcase prize. “I brought her back, just like you asked! Now there’s no need to do anything rash or bloodthirsty! Hahah…hah…! …”

Everyone was strangely silent. Looking at each face in turn, though many were staring at you, none could look you in the eye; and no one dared to so much as peek in this Hyunjin fellow’s direction. In fact, the red-headed boy, Jeongin, seemed...almost...rather afraid.

“Hang on,” you interjected (though there was nothing but silence for sometime now). The gears in your mind cranked back to the letter folded messily on the nightstand: Lives are at stake. I need you to meet someone. “So you’re saying you brought me here because...your friend wanted me here?” You huffed. “I don’t understand. You said that lives were at stake. Who’s dying?” 

Quiet. A somber aura fell over the small gathering; maybe that had been a little brash of you to ask outright…

But you needed answers! Why were you here? What was going on? “...Han,” you said, and instantly the boy looked up at you. “Why did you bring me here? What’s going on? …” You scanned the other four faces of boys around you. “What did you mean when you said...I was…” You shook your head. Doubts were flooding in like a dam had just snapped. “This better not be a set up.”

...More quiet. Han cleared his throat once more, stepping back in line. He had no answers to give; his features only hardened. The other three boys in line were looking anywhere else-- the floor, the walls, the ceiling. Oh, look at that beautiful glass window up there. And look at that one!

Hyunjin just kept on staring at you as if staring right through you; like he couldn’t comprehend your existence. He was completely locked in a trance.

After you’d carefully righted yourself, and had just begun turning away to get the heck out of Dodge, it was Seungmin that spoke next. “You’ll have to forgive him,” he called, scratching his head. You turned around. “It’s been a while since any of us have seen another human being before, nonetheless one that isn’t cursed--”

Han flinched, just out of the corner of your eye. Twitch. “...Oh, you mean…”

Your eyes locked with Hyunjin’s, still stuck in outer space. Seungmin nodded. “Yeah...and as for him--” He flicked his eyes on Han. “He’s just stupid.”

“Hey!” The man protested. Seungmin simply rolled his eyes. 

“Well it’s true! I bet you failed to explain anything that’s going on to this poor girl. Just look at what you made her wear!” He gestured rather violently to your ridiculously (somewhat childish) outfit. “She looks like she stepped out of a dollhouse. The cheap, tacky kind they used to sell down the street at Aunt Marie’s.”

“Um, actually…” You scowled. “I dressed myself. There wasn’t much to go off of in the closet other than old-era gowns and...well, that was basically it. Speaking of which, though…”

You stomped forward. Everyone (minus Trancy) jumped. 

“Which one of you changed me before?! I don’t recall wearing or even owning some fancy nightgown before getting the lights shot out of me.”

Seungmin’s jaw slacked. “You drugged her too?!”

“Only because she was trying to escape!” Han griped. “I didn’t want to have to shoot her! Besides, it wasn’t like I used anything heavy…”

“Still,” Red-headed Jeongin said, siding with his buddy. “What would Hyunjin say if he weren’t lost in his thoughts again? And did you even consider Y/n?”

Han scoffed. “I brought her back, didn’t I? I’m pretty sure that’s all that matters.”

“Regardless,” Seungmin spoke, “You still basically brought her here against her will. That’s kidnapping. I’m pretty sure the curse isn’t going to--”

“Hello?!” you yelled, waving your arms. “I asked you all which one of you changed--! …”

Your eyes landed on Felix. The boy blinked, innocently processing, then bloomed another shade of rosy pink. “O-Oh, no…!” He waved his hands. “It wasn’t me, honest! I’ve been stuck as a mouse since last Tuesday! A-Also, you were already...I-I mean, I suppose if it wasn’t you, someone else had already…”

His voice trailed off; too modest, and he had a solid alibi. It couldn’t be him. In the background, Han and Seungmin were still arguing, with Jeongin occasionally chiming in to support Seungmin’s case.

“Let me guess,” Seungmin mused, arms crossed. “You probably stole them from Lady Verena down the road.”

Han made an urk! sound. Seungmin sighed.

“I knew it...no wonder she’s dressed so gaudy…” He and Jeongin turned to you with kind eyes. “Listen, Y/n. We’re really sorry about all this. If you need anything, from now on come to me or Jeongin. We’ll be sure to take care of you. Heck,” he grumbled, “even the new guy Felix could have done a better job…”

Felix smiled awkwardly. You and Han both fumed; for different reasons. “That’s not what I--!”

A low growl cut through the lowly-chaotic atmosphere. Everyone ceased their bickering.

The assumed head of the palace had awoken.

- ❧ -

He walked circles around you. Circles and circles and circles… 

You were starting to get more than a little dizzy.

“Fascinating…” Hyunjin mused. It was as if he were the only one in the room, and you were merely a lifeless figurine on display. While he spun himself into further insanity and far too strong curiosity, Seungmin and Jeongin both sent you sympathetic looks to “hang in there” and “just go with it.”

But you didn’t want to go with it. You wanted to go out-- away-- back home to the caravan, to the wagon that had Rei and Carrots and all your useless junk people gave life to, and you a profit. “I’m sorry,” your voice cut the mostly vacant air, save for the headmaster’s mumbling and strangely heavy breathing. “Am I missing something here? If you like or...don’t like my outfit, just tell me and I can either say “thank you” or change and we can all move on to more important topics, like, say...why I’m here? What’s going on?!”

Hyunjin froze a quarter of the way to facing you from the left, his brown eyes strangely wide (though really, everything about this man was strange). In the back, Seungmin and Jeongin once again made faces attuning to the atmosphere; in this case, nervous frowning.

They were all treating Hyunjin like some sort of ticking time bomb. Han obviously feared and weirdly resented him, it was plain and simple on his face, and even Felix was picking up something about this guy that you couldn’t sense. When he wasn’t distracted by colorful art or the dirt under his nails, he was sending highly strung vibes his way.

...In all honesty, you weren’t sure why you didn’t just walk out. Nothing was stopping you...really. There was a clear path from here to the great big hallway Han had escorted you down, Felix in tow, and from there a million other doors, all leading to someplace that had to be better than here. One of them-- at least five, or ten-- had to lead to some winding hallway that would take you to the great outdoors.

Just when you’d thought to inquire further on that, Hyunjin finally began speaking, and not mumbling. “You appear to be real…but…”

He closed the (little) distance he’d given you in a single stride, and without warning placed both his hands on your shoulders...very...tentatively. Then, he trailed his fingers up to your cheeks.

You latched onto his wrists, on instinct. A synchronized gasping chorus filled the room like a daytime tragedy soundtrack.

But Hyunjin did nothing, if not for widening his eyes yet again to stare into the depth of your face like he was amazed at your reaction. Like it wasn’t normal or something.

“Hyunjin,” spoke Seungmin, “perhaps it would do you well to give the girl-- Miss Y/n-- her space. She is a human, just like the...er...ahem.”

...That was a sour note.

“Actually…”

All eyes were on Han except yours. Even Hyunjin snapped out of his trance to glare skeptically with concern, with Seungmin having to carefully pull him away so you could stop smelling his pungent breath.

“...Ahaha...ahahahahaha…” ...Han wilted. “I sorta...maybe...well, okay, I didn’t do it, but--”

“What did you do?” Hyunjin spoke. All eyes flew to him, then back at Han in anticipation. Like some sort of thriller novel. The daytime tragedy continued. Maybe you were in a tragic play of some sort, and there was a hidden audience just waiting to jump out and announce that you’d officially been pranked.

“………” He took a breath. “TheWitchcursedhertoo…!”

And then he covered his mouth, wincing moments too soon. 

The decaying chapel gasped. Hyunjin’s face turned hard, then slowly, bewitchingly, menacing.

“She did what?!”

Jeongin’s eyes went wide. “Y-You’ve been cursed too?” he asked, mournfully, almost with pity. Everyone appeared to display a sadness teetering on the edge between fear and hopelessness.

It was insane how quickly the airspace had shifted; though nothing normal had happened yet, everything had at least been more or less steady. Now, it was as if the room had been thrown off its hinges at the mention of the woman...the Witch. Which you were hoping had been a dream, but seeing as Felix was here, and Han bringing it up...definitely not.

Han whimpered; actually whimpered, like a child being scolded for breaking a vase. “I-It was an accident, honest!” He begged. “She didn’t know she was headed into the Witch’s Biome, and I lost track of her! BY ACCIDENT! When I found her, I swear I did everything I could to protect her, honest! Th-That’s where I met Felix, though I didn’t know he was really human at the time...and I brought them both back here.”

Seungmin made a curious face of urgency, almost seeming to sweat as he crossed diagonally forward to move you back, even going so far as to stand in front of you as a shield while Jeongin took care of Felix, tugging the mouse-turned-boy’s twine-sewn sleeve to take shelter behind some discarded pews.

What happened next wasn’t a dream, but surely a thing of nightmares. Right in league with the Witch’s hideout.

There was a swirling mass of black and deep red as something foreign and sinister took hold of the feared so-called Master of the House. Hyunjin began to grow bigger. Sharp, pointed fangs protruded from tight chapped lips pulled back in a snarl. His eyes told of hunger, bloodshot. Pitched daggers made of shadow and bone formed and crystalized along his fingertips.

You lost your voice. You could barely breathe. You weren’t even sure how you were able to stand.

“Hyunjin,” Seungmin warned, a sternness to his voice. “Think about what you’re doing. Y/n is here.”

Hyunjin growled, no longer a man anymore but some sort of...foul, hideous beast. He bore murderous eyes at Han. “I don’t care,” he growled, “I’m going to—!”

“You’re scaring her.”

… … …

That seemed to get his attention. Though the same couldn’t be said about yours; for though you stood still, frozen in time and space, your wandering mind was making a break for recalling the nearest exit. An empty, dizzying numbness choked your thoughts.

Hyunjin...if he could even be called that anymore...glared at you with wide, mournful eyes. Eyes full of fear and insecurity. Doubt. A horrible realization.

In the blink of an eye-- for you literally just had to blink-- he was back to normal. He stood apprehensively still, the rage and miasma gone, staring a hole into your Mary Janes. Perhaps staring at the reflection back at him.

Though he stood impossibly still, his voice gave him away in slight, wavering cracks. “...Forget what you just saw. It was merely an illusion. A trick of the light.”

“Uuuuh,” Felix interrupted. “P-Pretty sure that wasn’t-- mmph!”

Jeongin gave him a silencing, terrified eye. “Shhh!”

“......” With a passive grunt, Hyunjin continued. This time his eyes were directly on you; a wave of nervous energy pooled over your skin. “Dinner is at six p.m. sharp.” he said. “You will be there. ...We will have an encore of introductions, no...an entire reestablishment.” He turned his head viciously over his shoulder. The boy his eyes landed on squeaked. 

“Han,” he uttered. The said boy bit his lip. 

“Y-Yes…?”

Hyunjin deadpanned, in the most unamused, lifeless way. “Come.”

“Ahahahah, a-actually-- whAAA!”

A vase at the far end of the room shattered. Literally exploded, a few shards lodging themselves into innocently bystanding portraits and landscapes. When your attention strayed back, you could see Hyunjin had thrown something.

Han quickly bowed, visibly starting to sweat all over again. After a tense moment he stood, saying in the softest voice, barely a whisper, his agreement. 

Then, wringing the rings on his fingers, he nervously followed him out.

| Seven ❧

Dinner was set to be at six p.m. Attendance was apparently a requirement, given the formal invite Felix slipped beneath your door, turned back to a mouse once more (something about moonlight turning him into a...weremouse? ...The rules of his curse were rather complicated).

However, that didn’t mean that you had to be there.

“...And so that’s how I became a real boy again!” The mouse cheered, setting off a small party steamer Jeongin had granted him to lift his spirits. His tiny rodent eyes crinkled in delight as he beamed up at you from the dining table of your guest room, where the two of you were currently seated. You twitched your nose in timing with his, having stared at him and his life-story-since-last-Tuesday for far too long.

You shifted your weight to the other cheek. “So, really, all you had to do was make contact with sunlight. But you were too scared and kept to the shadows all this time.”

“Precisely! At least, I think that’s how it works!” He plopped down, digging some...cheese crumbs out of his coat. “That, and the old hasbeen wouldn’t let me leave every time I tried. Do you know when the last time I saw the sun was?! Go on, guess!”

“...Last Tuesday?”

He looked at you with wide-eyes, paws shoved up his piehole. He took a few minutes to chew and swallow. “...Oh, you’re good. No wonder you’re the chosen one to break everyone’s curse!”

You huffed, snorted really, leaning back to cross your arms in thought. A movie reel spun its way around your brain, projecting the late afternoon’s events on a white screen:

…Hyunjin’s retreating figure left some sort of impression in your mind, and Han seemed to vanish like ink washed off of a page. The moment they’d both gone, your knees buckled beneath you, hands hitting the cold pavement. Seungmin was down to your level in an instant, with Jeongin and Felix scurrying around pews, bits of rubble and broken glass.

“Y/n, are you alright? …” Seungmin asked, reaching out to you. He paused briefly to think. “...I’m going to check your pulse,” he announced.

As his fingers found their way around your wrist, Jeongin flanked to your other side with a first aid kit he’d salvaged from who-knew-where. Felix kept his distance, wringing his cap the way Han had wrung the rings on his fingers, but one look at his face told you he was just as concerned for your health as the others…he simply didn’t know what to do.

“Here, put this on her!”

“I’m alright,” you mumbled, pushing away an ice pack with sloth. Jeongin gave you a distasteful glare of sorts. 

“But you nearly fainted--!”

“I’m fine...really.”

“......”

Everyone laid off after that. 

Which you took as your cue to exit. In your retreating haste, albeit, you failed to see the sorrowful eyes that followed your fleeting back; but you could feel them, and it wouldn’t be long until they found a voice to stand upon.

“Come on, Felix,” you said. “I’ll see what I can do to get you home. I don’t know where you originally came from, but if it’s anywhere near Westwind, my friend and I can give you a lift.” ...It was the least you could do, after all. Felix hadn’t done anything wrong; he wasn’t the one that kidnapped you, or put a “curse” on you, which you weren’t even sure was real, by the way. Sure, some crazy stuff happened, but you didn’t feel any different. What if Han and the Witch and that Hyunjin guy were really all in kahoots, and this was just some kind of crazy...outrageous propaganda stunt?

Jeongin continued to stare, now in an incredulous manner. “Y/n…”

“Let her go,” Seungmin insisted, lowering Jeongin’s hand. The boy grasped the air weakly, the pulsing of his fingers mocking his faintly beating heart, breaths shallow and longing, feebly succumbing to trembles. It would have been painful to watch, had you known him better.

Felix, keeping a low profile as best he could in such tense situation, removed the beret he’d just finished placing back on his head, squeezing it before him. “...A-Alright,” he agreed after a moment. He paced over gradually at first, then broke into a nervous, jagged jog as he scuttled to your side. “Thanks…”

You smiled to hide the fear and insanity of what you’d just witnessed before. A man turning into a beast— a boy becoming like a shadow— everything that had happened up until now; it was just a dream, Y/n. A bad propaganda stunt. “Don’t mention it.” You turned over your shoulder. “...It was nice meeting you.”

Seungmin smiled, bitterly so, as Jeongin closed in on himself. “Same to you. Please, take care. I apologize for any trouble we caused you.”

With a nod, your footsteps echoed into the once-lavish corridor, Felix trailing nervously behind you. But then…

Those sorrowful eyes found their voice. “Wait, Y/n! Please, don’t go yet!” Someone was running after you. “Please stay, just for dinner at least! Please!!!”

...Your footsteps faded. Waiting.

“Please, Y/n…” Jeongin paused some ten feet away, falling to his knees to beg. “Cursed or not, only you can break the spell. I know how this must look to an outsider like yourself, but what Han said to you before in his letter...I’m sorry but I pried before he left it. He’s right. You’re one of us now. But you’re also you. And only you can save him. We…” His voice trailed off, eyes following, focusing on something in his hands...a locket of some sort? “...We gave up on ourselves a long time ago. But as weird and annoying and frustrating as he is, we made a promise to never, ever give up on Hyunjin. Like it or not he’s our boss, and our dearest friend. He’s been good to us for so many years...after all he’s done, we at least need to save him!” His eyes searched for yours, gripping his hands tightly, pleading, crying out with anguish and hope. “It might be too late, but we have to try! We can’t do anything like this...only you can save him. Please, Y/n…”

You’d been paying attention this whole time, but it was just now that you were starting to see: something dark and lively wrapping its way around Jeongin’s neck, then his right cheek. It was like a tattoo, only...alive. And moving. Black vines with thorns and heart-shaped leaves mapped their way across half the boy’s face, finally tangling into his bright, unnaturally red hair that sploched into ebony black, the color of Rei’s hair, only darker maybe, and then…

He began to fade. “...Please help him. He’s not as bad as he seems, honest! Please say you’ll stay and save him!”

...After that, Seungmin ran over and gave Jeongin some kind of shot that turned him back to normal and stopped him from disappearing, but…

What were you supposed to do when he started crying like that?! You weren’t expecting the waterworks…

Because you were both nice people, you and Felix hurried back to help, too, though all the two of you could really do was run circles around each other and agree to stay for just a bit longer. Just until dinner, you’d repeated. So we have the strength to travel.

...You would go to dinner. Really, the plan had been to just send Felix down. That wouldn’t do, though, now that you thought about it... Well, then, you certainly weren’t staying; you’d simply pop in to make sure that Jeongin kid was still alive, grab a roll or two, and then you’d be off to the nearest motel or campsite, because you certainly weren’t spending a night here. Come morning, you and hopefully Felix could hurry back to Westwind and after you took the boy home, or someplace close, you could get back to a normal life traveling and selling wares and running away from fate and customs.

“I’m pretty sure it’s just Hyunjin I’m supposed to fix,” you mumbled, getting back to the small conversation. You never thought in a hundred years you’d be sitting down in some old castle out in the middle of nowhere, talking to a rat (that was really a person, but still). Your eyes scanned the window beside you, out into the foggy gray beyond where nothing but trees and old abandoned buildings greeted you, lifeless along the horizon.

Mouse Felix was still stuffing his face with crumbs of cheddar and swiss. He seemed to have found some bread crust to pair with the former ensemble. “I mean, I guess. I think I heard that one guy, Seungmin, mention something about it being for everyone though? Or I could have just been hearing things…” He swallowed, stacking another small tower. “Wow, I’ve never had such an appetite until last Tuesday…”

“......” You rolled your eyes, counterproductive to your set jaw. How the heck were you supposed to save anyone? Why you, of all people?

That annoying chant the Witch had said replayed in your mind...maybe, if you could decipher it, you’d have some answers...how did it go, exactly…?

When sunrise comes and all is lost, Look upon the oldtown cross There you’ll find just what you seek This aging woman’s prophecy

Sunrise. So when the sunrise came...but, lost? What was lost?

A cross? You surveyed the area, but you didn’t see anything like that.

What you seek...was this you, or was you someone else? What was it you, or they, were looking for? You just wanted to go home…

...All you got from the last part was that this witch was crazy. Then, the rest went something like… But if yet still you manage to bend And find and seek what storm’s may rend May fortunes smile and bring you light For the many remaining days of your life

Okay, seriously, what were you bending?! This had to be metaphorical. So bend...what, your will? Heart? Find a loophole somewhere?

Were you finding what was lost? Would you find it if you found a loophole? Or had a change of heart?

Fortunes would smile upon you...something good would come.

For the rest of your days…

…You smacked your head against the table, startling poor Felix. Who were you kidding?! You’d already decided, that old hermit in the woods was crazy. Trying to translate some old ramblings was a waste of time…!

...And effective in giving you a headache. You groaned, massaging your temples as Felix detangled himself from your locks to scamper a safe distance away. 

“Y/n? Are you alright?”

“...Yeah. Fine.”

“...You don’t sound fine. You sound like Chan when he’s had a long night working on a new project and drank more coffee than he got work done. And I don’t think he even likes coffee.”

You turned your head. “Who’s that?”

Felix smiled. The only mouse that knew how to. “My boss, sort of. We both work for an entertainment company, at least...I did, before this happened.” He regarded himself sadly. “Ever since last Tuesday--”

You groaned again. “Urgh, I know, I get it already! Last Tuesday may as well be your catchphrase at this point.”

“...Sorry.”

“......” You peeked back at him, flicking a crumb of cheese his way. It seemed to take away all his problems like a one-way train. You sat up, grinning just a little at how cute he looked, nimbling innocently. The only rodent you’d ever find to be cute. “...Tell me more about it. About Chan, was it? And this entertainment company of yours. I honestly thought you were a farmer.”

“A farmer?” He thought. “Oh...yeah, my clothes! I grew up on a farm, and our company is relatively small. I just threw those on when I went exploring the woods.”

“And what were you doing exploring the forest on your own?”

“Uh...well,” he blushed. “I’ll tell you about Chan and the company first.”

His small, yet surprisingly bass voice carried on into the dimly-lit atmosphere. Maybe you just needed to take your mind off things. You were getting too wound up in something you weren’t even committed to being a part of. Once you saw Jeongin was okay, you’d be forgetting all about this place. So for now, you just needed to relax.

And who knew mice told such fabulous, intricate stories?

| Eight ❧

“Hyunjin, please…!”

Crash!

Another mirror. Terrific.

After their departure from the old art gala, Hyunjin had led the two to one of the many old studies that lied grungy and muted like the rest of the palace. In the circular room resided one dusty old curtain over a weathering window, a few bookshelves chalked with books likely to never be read again, a small table with various junk, a chair, another chair, a small loveseat, a slightly larger small grandfather clock...and a calendar with much angry scribbling, stains, and tears.

“Hyunjin, Jeongin can only fix so many mirrors at once...you know how this all works…you break a mirror, something in the castle vanishes. Then I take the heat for it!” 

The beast growled. “You don’t think I know that? Are you talking back to me right now?”

Han flinched. If he were human, surely he would have died from a thousand ulcers and the tight sensations of horrid anxiety by now… “N-Not by any means...Hyunjin,” With gritted teeth, he bowed his head. “Please, listen to me for a second. Let me explain.”

“Oh, that you will,” the beast grumbled. He gracefully spun himself into a red velvet chair, lifting another looking glass from the small table beside it in order to glare at himself broodingly. It made the small hairs of Han’s neck stand yielding, doing a little dance of anxiety. 

“V-Very well,” He said, standing back up straight. He gave an awkward glance at the broken mirror shards before deciding he’d better start talking his way out of another beating, and clean up later. “Our journey begins in the outskirts of Westwind city--”

Hyunjin raised his right arm, the mirror held precariously in the balance. “Too far.”

“NO DON’T!”

...Phew.

Removing the handheld treasure from the prince’s hand, his shadow took a few steps back, peering into it. Watching the door and bookshelf behind him, as shadows had no reflection. “...I traveled around...out yonder, just as you asked. Just like I said I would. I let the wind and my intuition, my hope, guide me, and within less than a day’s travel I came upon Westwind city. That’s where I found her, just outside the gates...she was accompanied by another, a young woman of close age. They looked too different to be related, so I assume it was a friend, or maybe a distant...distant relative. Anyway--”

Hyunjin sighed.

“...Anyway, I--”

“How did you know she was the one? And so close? So close to our village...it seems too good to be true. And I thought you said she was lying dormant somewhere.”

Han blinked, eyes flitting forward. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face. It took all his willpower not to flinch or show anymore signs of weakness. “W-Well, yes, she was, but uh...she escaped?”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. And so, I put her to the test.” 

Hyunjin narrowed his eyes. “You put her to the test? What does that mean?”

“I quizzed her. I knocked on the door of her heart...and she ignored me quite a few times, but eventually, I got in. In exchange for a favor.”

“What favor?”

Han smiled with pride. “I’d saved her friend’s life. Or...distant, distant relative. After that, I asked her carefully, very seriously, of her thoughts.”

“...About…?”

“The curse.”

“You told her outright about the curse?!”

Seeing as Hyunjin was near fuming, Han turned on the sprinklers, fanning his arms about. “No, no! Not outright! I was very tricky! I used lots of metaphors and figuratively-speakings! She had no idea to the core of the matter, really!” ...And anyway, did it even matter anymore? Y/n was well aware by now she wasn’t exactly in Kansas anymore...

“......” Hyunjin relaxed back in his chair. “So, what did she say?”

Han searched the dusty floorboards for a minute, before slowly twisting the mirror 180 degrees. “Well, sir, it was what I said first. I asked her…”

- ❧ -

“A man, or a beast? As individuals, do we have a choice?”

“...I’m sorry...I don’t understand the question.”

“Hmm…” Han thought. “...Imagine you were put under a...spell. A spell that turned you into a hideous monster, with fangs and claws and fur in places you’d never imagined...but it comes and goes, this curse of yours.” He tilted his head. “Are you still human? Or are you now a beast? Well?”

“...I...I don’t know,” you confessed, listing your gaze aside. “I really have no idea where you got such a crazy idea from.”

“Okay...then let me ask you this. I’ll help you out.”

He leaned forward this time. “Do you think we have a choice? Is it possible to define ourselves as one or the other?”

“Well...yes, I would think so.” Your eyes met his. “We all have a choice— to be monsters, or men. It is not a matter of blood, or a spell, but a condition of the heart.”

- ❧ -

Hyunjin leaned forward in his chair, eyes wide as saucers.

This time, he knew it, too. But he didn’t care how he must have looked. That fear died a long time ago, having stared at the many faces of Hwang Hyunjin over the years.

He simply couldn’t believe it. It really was true, then. It had to be her. The girl that would solve all his problems…!

...For the record, one should never put all their faith into one person in regards of “solving problems” or “fixing them,” but this was different. In this case, this girl really was the answer to lifting the curse plaguing his home and body for so many moons, so many long, hard-watched seasons…

And she was going to be having dinner with him. Not only that, but he only had a handful of hours left until it was all over, and everything set into stone.

The door behind Han slammed open, Seungmin entering the stage and stealing his spotlight like he normally did. Even before the curse, the boy who’d been his father’s auditor-in-training was always bursting in to bask in the limelight with his savvy knowledge, goody-two-shoes this and boring document question that.

He swears this was never the case, but Hyunjin knew better. “Do you mind? I’m having a discussion with--”

“Not now.”

“Excuse me?” Seungmin was rummaging around the room, spreading knick-knacks around, tossing books off shelves after quickly examining covers or flipping through a few pages, even going so far as to demand that Hyunjin stand so he could upturn all the seat cushions. “What are you doing?”

The boy genius frowned. “Jeongin had an episode after Y/n almost left. He—”

Hyunjin found himself shaking the boy in the next second. “Did he stop her?!”

“...Shouldn’t you be asking if he’s alright first?”

Hyunjin just continued to stare. Seungmin rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I was going to say, he managed to stop her. I did say almost left. By the way, Jeongin’s in peril right now, so if you could be so kind as to release me, I’d like to get back to ensuring his safety as soon as possible.”

As soon as Hyun dropped him, the boy got right back to work; tearing the room apart. Han pursed his lips.

“He had an episode? Did you give him a shot?”

The boy sighed. “Yes, but I’ve told you both before they’re only temporary. I’m looking for lavender oil, and the vine clippers. I don’t remember the original recipe to stop the ebb and flow, but I think I can make a close replacement from what I’ve read in the past.” He glanced over his shoulder a moment. “What were you getting so hot under the collar about, anyway? Is this about Y/n? Being cursed?”

Shoot, by the day, that was right. He was still angry about that. What if Han had blown it? What if this Y/n was defective now because she’d been touched by the Witch’s mad hand?

Oh, he was so going to get it if…!

“Eeek!” Han shrieked, already knowing what was to come. “Dammit, don’t remind him of that! I had just managed to get on his good side!”

Seungmin rolled his eyes again. “You’re never on his good side. All you two do is bicker and fight and run from or after each other until you’ve become one with the walls and he passes out from anger or resentment or both. ...Ah!” He smiled. “Found the clippers. Now for that oil…”

“Forget the oil!” Hyunjin roared. “We don’t have time for this! Ahh…!” He gritted both hands in his hair, looking out the window, up at the old miniature grandfather clock. “Time’s running out. Since she’s the one, we may still have a chance. Cursed or not we only have three days...two days…!”

It was at this point that Seungmin made a quizzical expression, pausing in his endeavors to pace rather calmly over to the calendar, checking the date. “...The anniversary of your curseday isn’t until next month. You have a whole season, almost.”

A...season?

“Let me see that,” Hyunjin demanded, shoving the kid aside. He peered anxiously at the line up, the rows of weeks in the calendar month that said… … …

Seungmin was right. He’d misread the date, in all his anxious spite.

He had until the next season. Until the first snowfall. Starting tomorrow, his clock would begin.

...Oh, who was he kidding?! His clock started tonight; with dinner.

In a tizzy, his whole attitude changed. No longer was he a grumpy, repulsive, bitter soul trapped in a cursed body. Mindlessly resenting his father, his past actions, the old beggar who’d shown up on his doorstep. He was a nervous young man about to have his first date in what felt like forever, because truthfully, it had been. “What am I going to wear?! ...Oh my gosh, she saw me transform…!” Horror filled his lungs with a ragged breath, hands flying to sunken cheeks. “I can’t let her see me now! But I have to! I have to break the curse...I mean, she has to break the curse! But what if--!”

“Hyunjin!” Han clamped his mouth shut. A bold move for someone that was normally terrified of him. “Calm down! I think that’s step one!” He looked around while Seungmin continued his search. “Step two would be...uh…”

“Finding an appropriate outfit?” Seungmin offered. Han beamed.

“YES, finding an appropriate outfit! Genius!”

Again, the boy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, who would have thought…?”

“C’mon!” The two flew past him, Hyunjin too preoccupied with his previous behavior, overwhelmed by too many truths, to even-- …

He rushed back into the room. “Did you say Jeongin was--?!”

“Let’s go,” Han ordered, yanking the househead by the collar. Leaving Seungmin alone to his bumbling foragery.

My, how times quickly changed.

| Nine ❧

Another spaghetti noodle found its way into Felix’s hair, alongside a half-eaten slice of garlic bread. 

In the great dining hall, chandeliers hung like clouds in a desecrated chamber, all covered in dust and cobwebs. A long, very long table stretched from one end of the wide room to the other, all set with dining ware meant to feed the entire Royal Family and their second cousins. A rainbow of food covered the crimson-draped platform, starting with English scones and biscuits on one end and ending with an Italian pot of gold on the other, complete with pastas, pizza, and a basket of garlic bread nestled to Felix’s right, who was seated at the table’s end. All along the walls sat candles lit with a hazy tint, casting shadows like lingering ghosts, light dancing across the faces of those present.

You slid your hand down one side of your face, safely hidden amongst the confines of two large chambers doors with one slightly askew. Good grief. You were simply waiting on Jeongin to show, to ascertain he was alright; until then, it was Felix’s one job to stall. What on earth was that foolish mouseboy doing shoving food in his hair?!

Seungmin, seated to the absent head’s left, and the only other soul in the room, cleared his throat loudly enough to be heard over the cultural expansion of what was meant to be one supper. “Felix!” he called, “Might I ask why you’re storing food on your persons? You’re...not a mouse at the moment.”

Unfortunately it didn’t reach far enough, as Felix continued to store and gobble down food. “Mm… What’d you say, cuz?”

Seungmin frowned. “I said,” he repeated, raising his voice, “you’re not a mouse anymore!”

Felix blinked, pausing red-handed while sliding a breadstick into his shirt pocket. “...Aren’t I?” He examined himself. “...Oh.” He blushed. “I suppose you did give me one of those fancy needles, didn’t you? I’m not used to being a real boy at this hour.”

Seungmin sunk back into his seat; a sigh.

Oh, but for Pete’s sake, where was Jeongin?! Seungmin could at least mention his current condition, so you could skedaddle your way to the nearest exit with a salad to-go. Better yet, some pasta and a pound of those chicken tenders sounded all the better…

No, no Y/n! Now was not the time to be thinking about food...even if it’d been a while since you last ate...more like a day…

...Ooooooh...pizza and...shrimp cocktail…

A pile of desserts rested center stage. Was that German chocolate you were seeing...?

“So,” Seungmin called. “Will Y/n be joining us this evening?”

Your attention snapped back to reality. Felix shook his head alongside tearing into a drumstick. “‘Fraid not,” he replied.

“Mm…” the other boy nodded. “...May I ask why? Is she feeling alright?”

Felix paused again. Forgetting the pasta and German chocolate, you pressed yourself against the closed door in order to be as close as possible, ear resting just next to the shaded chandelier and candlelight. 

Just like we practiced, Felix. Come on, just like we rehearsed.

“Uuuh,” Felix stammered. “Th-That’s…”

His head listed aside in thought. Ugh! No, what was he doing?! 

Felix chewed much longer than he needed to while racking his mouse-sized brain for an answer. Your fingertips pressed into old polished wood, silently begging the boy to remember what you’d just discussed twenty minutes ago.

Remember...think, dang it!

Suddenly, he swallowed. “Oh!”

Seungmin shook his head, as if waking up from a trance. “Yes?”

Felix grinned, probably with salad or something stuck in his teeth. “Y/n will not be attending this dilatory gathering due to a symptom...of her curse, that makes her quite drowsy at this late hour!”

Chink...! That was the sound of your hope cracking like a broken mirror. That sounded totally rehearsed! The lie was supposed to be that your curse made you tired and you didn’t want to be disturbed. It was perfect, since you knew one of them would insist on butting in to see for themselves, but surely would respect a young lady’s wishes to be left alone…

Though it was hard to see that far, Seungmin appeared to be grinding gears in his mind to make sense of such a suspiciously wordy sentence when, heaven’s to Betsy, the door at the far side opened, and in came a blue-haired shadow. It was the only way you knew how to describe him; he was simply put, like ink off a rain-washed page… “Wassup?!” He announced, swinging out the right-side chair.

Seungmin deadpanned, appearing to squint just slightly. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Ink-boy dropped a handful of rolls onto his plate. “...Like wha— oh!”

He leapt for the door again. Seungmin rolled his eyes (something he seemed to do a lot), dabbing the sides of his mouth before placing the cloth back over his lap. “Yeah. Oh.”

At the far end of the room, Han held both hands raised, as if he were a magician about to reveal a magic trick. “May I present to you, Felix, His Royal Highness, Prince of Everain Palace, Ruler of Finance, Master of Trade, Prosperer of...prospering, President Hwang’s birthright successor of the greatest industry of all time, Hyun— …”

Crickets. 

You couldn’t visibly see it, but you knew it was there: a single drop of sweat that rolled down the side of Han Jisung’s face, as he stood frozen, one hand hovering over the engraved door handle.

“Ha...hahaha…” He did his best to smile. “...Wh-Where’s Y/n?”

Felix bobbed his head, holding up a finger while finishing off a bite of lasagna. “Mm...one second mate…” He dabbed the corners of his mouth like Seungmin had done, taking his time to tuck and fold the elaborate cloth upon his lap. 

Han twitched. Felix surely smiled, taking a painfully slow inhale.

“Y/n will not be attending this dilabitory...dilatory gathering due to a...symptom?...yeah, a symptom of her curse, that makes her quite drowsy at this late hour!”

… …

“She whAT?!?!”

You sighed. While Han had another spastic encounter with the dust-coated floor, Seungmin hollered and tried beating the boy out of it with various hard-mattered foods, the two falling into the same bickering as they had before. Felix continued to happily stuff his face like nothing was bothering him. And you, idly residing in the cold hallway, still had no idea how Jeongin was. Not a word.

Sliding your back down the door, you pursed your lips, lightly smacking two fingers over your wrist; better check yourself before you wreck yourself, just in case.

Fifty-eight...fifty-nine...sixty. Yep, normal.

But the marking on your wrist wasn’t. 

You jumped back, hitting the door and causing the noise outside to dip for a moment before returning to...what was currently normal. You covered your right wrist with the opposite hand. Held your breath. Counted to three.

Removing your fingers, slowly, something sinister stared back at you. Something...elaborate, foreign, but distinguished. Some sort of...strange dome shape, a mark made of...ink, maybe, resembling a chapel window. Or a door, perhaps?  

Upon closer inspection, in the faint light from the other room, it seemed to pulse with...some kind of...energy… … 

...When sunrise comes, and all is lost… Hmm… 

Fwoosh!

You snapped your head back, peering through the sliver of dancing light. The far door ricocheted against its adjacent wall; an ambrosial aroma wafting through the air. The candlelight...illuminated...

...A beastly man with silky black hair.

- ❧ -

You’re pretty sure you heard a noodle slip off the fork wound tightly in Felix’s hand, who nearly dropped it all the same. 

There he was; the man who’d become a monster and nearly murdered Han just hours ago, right before your eyes. The black and red miasma, honed claws, sharp teeth; all of it came flooding back to your mind like a tidal wave. 

The sudden drop in temperature made you long for candle warmth, yet flee farther into the shadows of the empty hall. Seungmin paused with a scone held once proudly and threateningly in the air, now placed delicately on his plate as he nervously slid back into his seat. Han, once choking on a fistful of salad mix, managed to wash it down and did the same, quickly and quietly so after pulling out the beastman’s seat.

Hyunjin sat down with vigor, the legs of his chair scraping harshly to the floor. He made a peculiar face, something like embarrassment albeit just a second, before hiding it behind the fluffing of his napkin and folding it onto his lap. Then he made a fleeting...was that nervous?...glance straight head, to the far opposite end of the table.

The candlelight seemed almost hesitant to cast it’s erratic glow upon the prince’s face. When his eyes met a head of orange hair, he froze, glaring. Hotly. “Where is Y/n?”

“The million dollar question,” Seungmin mumbled. It managed to echo, along with the kick beneath the table and following hiss escaping his lips a moment later. 

Hyunjin snorted, turning his gaze back to Felix. “I said,” he repeated. “Where is Y/n?”

“Yes, I heard you loud and clear, cuz,” Felix replied with an OK sign. “Gimme just a sec...ahem!”

You (silently) banged your head against the solid matter before you. Oh, sweet stars, please no…

“Y/n will not be attending this—”

“She’s not feeling well, Your Grace,” Seungmin interrupted. Phew. “Apparently she’s rather ill as a side effect from whatever curse the Witch gave her. She’s resting in the same guest room upstairs.”

Yes! Now, someone mention Jeongin’s name so you could leave with a clear conscious!

Hyunjin blinked. “Go get her, then.”

… Huh?

Seungmin nearly swallowed wrong, apparently thinking the same thing. “I’m sorry?”

Hyunjin, again, snorted. “I said, go get her. It’s rude to keep everyone waiting, especially royalty.”

Felix, who had long started his meal prior to anyone’s arrival, stopped and hurriedly shoved any evidence under a spare napkin from the empty seat beside him. “Ahaha, yes, right! Waiting…! …” 

He awkwardly wiped his hands clean. Seungmin frowned. “Hyunjin…”He placed his fork down. “She’s sick. Resting. And after today, I don’t blame her for wanting to be left alone right now…” He eyeballed Felix a moment, leaning in with a hushed voice. “Remember, you have more time now...it’s better to be patient. Let her adjust first.” He turned back toward his meal. “I got the hint from Felix’s message, she wants to be left alone. Everyone’s already started eating, anywa—”

“That’s enough!”

The room swiftly grew colder. You shivered, ducking your head even if you technically weren’t present in the dining atmosphere. Oh, greif.

Hyunjin slammed his hands on the table, rocking himself upwards. “If you’re just going to back talk and give me excuses, I’ll get her myself!”

He made his way toward you, crossing the dining room on Han’s side in angry strides towards the vaguely slitted door.

Gasping, you bit your lip hard, frantically searching for a place to hide; but there was nothing. No furniture or randomly placed junk littered the path leading to the great hall. Could you outrun him, maybe? Would it make a sound? How good was his hearing? Did beastmen have the same sensitive hearing capabilities as a wolf, or a fox?

“Pardon me!”

You whirled around, witnessing the brave, possibly last, antics of Felix the Mouse...boy. His whole aura radiated positive, jittering energy, hopping lightly from one foot to the next as he put his old entertainment skills to use, all for your sake.

Hyunjin grunted, having been stopped in his tracks. He glared down heatedly. “What is it? You’re in my way.”

Felix saluted him. “Right on, bro! ...Except, that…”

You held your breath. Put on a good show, Felix. Or, better yet, ask him about Jeongin. That’s all I need to—

“...I need to pee. Mind showing me where the bathroom is?”

… … 

Oh…he just had to...go… 

You deflated like a popped balloon. Of course.

After staring almost incredulously at Felix, like trying to understand his existence, Hyunjin made some sort of irritated noise you assumed all beastmen made, shoved him aside, and continued his striding. 

You made it as far as a few paces from the first available turn before a cold voice stopped you.

“Just where do you think you’re going?”

Urk! … 

...You really should have just looked for Jeongin yourself.

| Ten ❧

“Where’s Jeongin?”

The room had long ago settled into an uncomfortable silence. Bitterly, you shoved a stuffed olive into your mouth, letting the salty tang of the brined fruit coax over your tongue before shivering from the sensation.

You were getting drowsy. But that also could have been from the wine Han insisted on pouring for you, and you being stressed and unsure if an evening around a beastman would be at all possible without the effects of alcohol, accepted.

You were seated across from the beast now, in Felix’s place. The boy being forced to your right...until the effects of whatever had made him a boy again wore off. As of ten minutes ago, he was a rodent yet again, nested happily in the garlic bread basket. You squinted eyes at him over your wine glass.

You totally failed the mission. Be grateful I’m having a hard time staying mad at you. And that you can safely ingest garlic.

“Why do you wish to know?”

Hyunjin’s voice boomed across the grand hall, in no more than a calm rejoinder. How he could speak so lowly and yet fill an entire hall was beyond your drunkenly buzzing comprehension.

“I just want to know,” you simply replied. “Where is he?”

Hyunjin didn’t respond. Instead, Seungmin cleared his throat, excusing himself from the room.

“Wait,” You stood. “Where are you going?”

The boy awkwardly shifted his gaze from you to the door. Hyunjin suddenly stood as well. “Why do you want to know? Why are you asking so many questions?”

“Okay, okay,” Han dabbed at his face, easing the beast back into his seat, and motioning for you to do the same. “Everyone take it easy. Y/n, please excuse Seungmin, he has many responsibilities here. Hyunjin...Your Princeliness,” he corrected, “why don’t you have some more wine? I think we all just need to have a nice long drink and—”

“Be quiet,” Hyunjin ordered, scooting himself in. His shadow didn’t need to be told twice, turning back to his dinner with a small eye roll.

Steadily, with caution, you lowered yourself back into your seat, only able to watch as Seungmin gave a brief bow to you before disappearing behind closed doors. “Please excuse me,” his voice trailed behind him.

Great. He was likely the only one who’d have been bold and honest enough to tell you anything. Now you were stuck with a beast, a shadow, and a mouse that’d fallen asleep in the bread basket.

...Then this happened.

“Ahem,” Hyunjin swallowed a swish of sweet, fermented grape juice. “...T-Tell me about yourself.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I said…” He swallowed again, for no particular reason this time. He kept a staring contest with his steak. “Tell me about yourself. What kind of...stuff do you like?”

“What kind of...stuff?”

A stifled noise came from Han’s lips, as he did his best to hide a smile. He spared you a polite grin before quickly whispering something to Hyunjin, like a lawyer to a client. “...Never mind!” The beastman awkwardly bleated, to which crimson coated his cheeks. He angrily picked at his plate, and the room once again fell into silence.

That was weird. Switching gears, you glanced down to your wrist. The mark from a bit earlier was still there, now lit up beneath the flickering light. Tentatively, you slipped a spare napkin, rubbing at the ink.

It didn’t budge. You tried wetting the cloth with a bit of wine when the others weren’t looking; thankfully, Hyunjin was too...enthralled in his steak, or something, and Han was too busy whispering to him.

The ink didn’t smudge, either. It was as if the markings were a part of your skin.

When sunrise comes, and all is lost… 

“What do you do for fun?”

“Wha?!” Your head shot up, focusing to see all four eyes on you. Han and Hyunjin glaring at you expectantly. You gulped, taking a deep breath to clear your thoughts. You just couldn’t get that old bat’s wacky slogan out of your head… “...What do I do for fun? Is that what you asked?”

Han gave a single nod, encouraging another conversation attempt. You lowered your head, thinking. It couldn’t hurt to participate in mindless chatter. Just until I get the information I want.

“I like...selling things. And making people happy.”

Hyunjin’s eyes grew just a little. “Is...that what you do for a living?”

“Mm-hm.”

Both men were silent. Hyunjin, in particular, looked like he may have been experiencing indigestion of some sort. Then he scowled. “Shouldn’t you be home with your parents? Taking care of them? Doing something more decent?”

You scoffed. What the heck? Where did that come from? “This is how I take care of them. Almost all the proceeds go back to them. What do you mean, more decent?”

Hyunjin had opened his mouth to speak when Han cleared his throat, jumping in on the conversation. “Does your friend work with you? Her name was…”

“Rei.”

“Yes, Rei! You both sell artifacts and collectibles, right?”

“That’s correct.”

Hyunjin blinked. “Oh…” He relaxed, indigestion cleared.

Placing both hands on your lap, you sat up a little straighter. “So where’s Jeongin?”

The beastman’s face resembled one of annoyance and grief. “Why do you keep asking about him?”

“I…” You took another swing of wine, swirling the contents afterward. Watching as your reflection altered. “I’m just curious is all. Is he doing okay?”

Something like...jealousy?...resided among the beast’s brow and set jaw. “He’s fine. Quit asking. I want you to tell me about yourself. Where are you from? How old are you?”

It was at this point that you’d at last had perhaps one too many swigs of sweet relief and numbness, for you placed down your glass after chugging the last bit. One out of...how many refills of this stuff have you had? “Can’t,” you stated, standing. “I got what I came here for. Now I’m leaving.”

“Leaving?”

Hyunjin...the beast, regarded you incredulously. “Yes, leaving…” You giggled. “Leaving. Leeeeeaving… Like leaves blowing in the wind, leaf-ing.” It was a hop, skip, and a jump to the door some ten or whatever paces away. “I know that Jeongin is okay now...er, wait.” You frowned. Turned around. “How do I know you aren’t lying to me?”

A brow was raised. “You think I’m lying? About my Jeongin?” He snorted. “Why do you care so much about him? Do you know him from a past life? Was he your lover? Do you like him now?”

“Hyunjin…” Han muttered, glaring. “Cool it...please.”

“I will not!” He rose to his feet with twice as much vigor as before, chair flying backward. Han eep-ed. “This dinner is supposed to be about you, and me. Why do you keep bringing up my blacksmith? Tell me!”

Because you were already pretty numb (good gravy what was in the wine?), you just laughed at the fact a beast was getting this angry over something so trivial to you. “Why do you care so much? Do beasts always get this angry?” You groaned, like it was all such a bother. “If you really wanna know, he had a nervous breakdown or something and begged me to come to dinner. But he got all weird...like...there were these moving images, and he started vanishing. I could see right through him!” You sighed, making your exit again. “I just wanted to know if he was alright. Turning into air like that can’t be healthy.”

“Absolutely not.”

You chuckled, nearly at the door. “Exactly, that’s what I’m say—”

“NO!”

Boom! Chik!

...You flinched. Gradually, bit by bit, you inched yourself to partially facing the dining hall.

A chunk of the table was missing. A decently-sized, pretty big chunk, torn right off the left corner. Han, on the opposite side but right next to the disaster, was twisted up like one of the noodles that’d been trapped in Felix’s hair, his face ghostly white.

Hyunjin was seething. “You are not going anywhere outside the confinements of these walls. That is an order.”

Han coughed, waving away dust and floating wood chips with minimal effort so as not to draw too much attention. “O-Okay, easy there, Hyunjin…technically…” He smiled. An apologetic one, voice skittishly squeaky. “Technically, you can’t order her to—”

“I’ll do whatever the hell I want!!! This is my manor, my life, my curse!!!”

“That doesn’t give you the right to order me around!” You screamed. “How dare you raise your voice to me! Over something so stupid and absurd!”

His eyes narrowed to slits, head twitching aside. “What did you just say?”

You mirrored his image. “You heard me. Don’t pretend like you didn’t hear. Surely, as a beast, your hearing is as good as a dog. Or a bat. Or some kind of vermin.” Pushing open the door, you whipped your head around. “I said, I’m leaving.”

Hyunjin’s eyes went wide...then nearly vanished behind a curtain of vexed, enraged brows. “You wanna go so badly? Fine! Get out of here! Go to your room!!!”

“Who do you think you are, my father?!”

“Obviously, running amuck from your parents has left you with a lack of discipline.”

Your jaw went slack. “What did you just say?!?”

Hyunjin smirked, a sarcastically snobbish and mocking tone to his voice. “You heard me. Don’t pretend like you didn’t.”

“Uh!” You raved. “Whatever! I’m going to look for Jeongin myself, since I can’t trust that you’d tell me anything sincere. Then, I’m out of here.”

“What does that mean?!”

“It means I can’t trust anything you say, because you’re a monster!!! Then, I’m going home!”

You couldn’t quite see it, but there was a hint of pain in Hyunjin’s eyes, mixed with scars and years of regret. But everything quickly flooded back to anger and bigotry before you could count to three. “...Get back here! You’re not allowed to leave the manor! I forbid you to go anywhere except straight to your room! Do you hear me?!”

“No!”

“Yes!!”

“No!!”

“FINE!!!”

“Fine!!!”

…Slam.

| Eleven ❧

The rain coming down that night was the only thing stopping you from leaving. Not that you were afraid of a little rain by any means; no, not in the slightest. Rather, it was that you weren’t going to kill yourself over a stupid argument just to get away from a beast. You couldn’t risk catching pneumonia or a silly cold and leave Rei to handle taking care of you and the fort. Plus, there was the matter of Felix...you’d be responsible for him as well. You already told him you would.

...All of that, and it was raining pretty hard.

So here you sat, out in an old web-infested barn, slack atop a stack of hay a few feet away from the open barn doors, just watching the rain fall. Praying it would let up so you could escape. Praying no one would find you here, out in some shabby old building behind the kitchen. And what a nightmare that had been, by the way.

From your left shoulder, Felix did a nervous little jig, spinning in circles twice before bridging across your back to the other side. “Y/n…I don’t know what happened, cause that cheese and wine got me pretty good, but…” He heaved a small mouse-sigh. “...Do you think you maybe overreacted? You don’t seem like a person who gets worked up so easily.”

You scoffed. Wasn’t that right. “Yeah...you’re right. I’m not.”

“Then what happened?”

“......” It took you a moment to gather your thoughts. What did happen? Why did I get so worked up like that? Sure, there was the alcohol. That definitely had an effect. But it wasn’t everything, because now that it was wearing down, now that your mind was clearing and you’d had some time to settle down, to breathe in solitude, you...knew it was something more. There was truth in the midst of all that anger.

Felix was waiting for an answer. So were you.

“I—”

Chunk! “Y/n!!!”

You took a startled breath, turning toward an old door you could have sworn was sealed shut. “Jeongin…?”

It was Jeongin. The red-haired reason you’d decided to stick things out, albeit a little longer. The boy greeted you with flushed cheeks and a lazy smile; he still didn’t look all that well. “Y-Yeah...I came because I heard...you…”

He hunched over, out of breath. The face of another appeared behind him. “Jeongin! I told you to slow down, you’re in no condition to be running around like…” He stopped, blinking into the darkness. “Y/n? Why are you here?”

Brown hair, matching eyes. Mr. Excuse-Me-From-This-Horrifically-Awkward-Dinner. You just smiled, lazily in response. “Hello, Seungmin.”

The young...caretaker nodded, acknowledging you before being swatted away by his patient. A flash of vacancy lit up the night sky as you turned the opposite away, facing the other two in a triangle. Jeongin hustled to shut the barn doors despite Seungmin’s protests, and pretty soon the three...four of you, with Felix taking a nosedive for the hay, sat in awkward silence.

It was almost an encore of dinner not but twenty or thirty minutes ago, though not as worse. It was obvious the two of them wanted to say something, but neither wanted to be the first to speak. Finally, after twenty-odd seconds of nose scratches, unnecessary shifting, and forced coughs, the only employee with a braincell sat up a little straighter.

“Listen,” Seungmin began, using his hands to speak. “About Hyunjin—”

The beast. No thank you. You swatted your hands before you. “I do not want nor need to have another conversation about that ill-mannered buffoon.”

“...I’m pretty sure this is the first one.”

“Second,” Jeongin inquired. “...Right?”

“I’m not counting the first encounter,” Seungmin...countered. “Those never count.”

Jeongin nodded. “Yeah, I can see why—”

“Enough!” You yelled. “...It doesn’t matter if this is the first or second or even the tenth time. I can tell you one thing, it’s definitely the last.”

Seungmin gave you a pitying look. “We all have to walk on eggshells around him.” His voice sounded pleading, borderline apologetic, and all-over exhausted. “...It gets rough, I know. I understand he’s not the easiest person to get along with. He’s very different and outcast and behind the times. But if you could just hear me out for—”

“Hear us out,” Jeongin corrected. He gave you the cutest, saddest smile a boy of his caliber could possibly manage. It made your heart melt; it didn’t help that he was still ill to boot. “I heard what you did for me, Y/n. I really appreciate your concern. No one has ever stayed, especially when one of us...has an...episode.” 

His gaze grew sad and distant. You could feel your heart sizzling in a pool of pity. “...This has happened...before?” you whispered.

Jeongin nodded, Seungmin averting his eyes. “...Yeah.” He said. “Twice to Jeongin, three times to Han, Hyunjin too many to count...and uh…” He scratched his cheek, holding up an index finger. Eyes peeking shyly under the hood of neatly-groomed bangs. “...Once I may have...had a bad day.”

“Wow…” Felix mumbled, head sticking out of the hay barrel. The boy looked like a stray whack-a-mole project. “That sounds rough. Been there done that.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving him down with two fingers. He let out a muffled squeak on the way down. “So…” ...You sighed. “...What is it that you wanted to say, then? This is the last time I’m listening. I only went to that banquet to make sure Jeongin was okay.” Another crack of lighting pierced the sky, followed by the ominous rumbling of thunder. “You have maybe ten minutes, since the storm isn’t letting up anytime soon. But after that, I’d like to be left alone in peace until I can leave this joint. Go.”

Seungmin nearly beamed nonexistent sunshine. “That’s plenty of time.”

“Get to the basics. Just the essentials.”

“The company fell under a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry?”

He huffed, running a hand through his hair while Jeongin glanced nervously at the door. “The company, this place. The first thing you need to know about Hyunjin is that he wasn’t always this way. And I’m not just talking about the curse. He’s the son of a wealthy businessman; this is his estate. He owns the whole town...or at least, he did.” His eyes scanned the walls and dusty interior, as if checking to see if someone else was watching. As if taking in the entirety of the estate. “...Now it belongs to Hyunjin. Everything.”

You crossed your arms. “I could have put that together myself. He’s obviously a rich, spoiled brat.”

“There’s more. The people that know him personally know him for who he really is.”

You huffed. Unbelievable, really. “And what would that be?” You pressed. “A monster?”

A bitter silence flushed the room. You instantly felt a pang of resentment at that remark. Perhaps...again, that was a bit too harsh. 

“...I’m sorry.” Your arms laid in surrender across your lap. “Please continue.”

“......” Seungmin glanced to his left. “You wanna pick up from here?”

He leaned back, Jeongin lifting himself to take the lead. “...Hyunjin is a pain in the ass. He’s a pain in the morning, we basically play rock paper scissors to see who has the unfortunate task of waking him up and handling his breakfast, and to decide who’s turn it is to do laundry and lunch we place bets on when he’ll randomly combust in a daily rage or which book he’ll throw across the room first.” He counted on his fingers, listing them off one by one. “For dinner and his bath we usually draw straws or play an old board game, but Han often cheats, so…”

...His voice trailed off, eyes intently examining his mental checklist. You frowned. “...What does any of this have to do with…” Shook your head. “What are you saying again?”

He smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry,” he bowed. Cute. “What I meant to say was that deep down Hyunjin is actually a very kind person, but...I just ended up making him sound like an overly-dependent...man...child.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, twirling a piece of hay around your finger. “Well he sure does seem like it. His manners at the dinner table were atrocious and incredibly beast-like.”

“But you don’t know him like we do,” Seungmin insisted...then smiled, apologetically so, sitting up straight again. “...Forgive me. But what we’re trying to say is, Hyunjin is really a nice guy, he’s just...stuck. You definitely didn’t help with that daily ledger,” he scolded beside him. Jeongin bowed again.

“Well, sorry, I was just trying to—”

“Stuck?”

That lone word rang out like a gunshot. Seungmin and Jeongin both turned to you with sour eyes, the former swallowing a bit uncomfortably. “...Yes, stuck.”

“In what? Time? Space? Adolescence?” You tilted your head. “Because he never learned to grow up?”

“Exactly! ...Sort of.”

You glanced down to the hay-riddled fabric adorning your lap. It’d never really occurred to you to analyze or care anything for Hyunjin’s personal life, mostly because you weren’t planning on staying and the moment you saw him transform, you didn’t want to know. Your instincts told you to run, to flee, to flood your system with a coping-mechanism gene and forget and ignore what you just saw. You wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but you were scared...and who in their right mind wouldn’t be?

...But hearing this now...even given the smallest sliver of insight…

...Well, your mother had often scolded you for being nosy. “So you’re saying he never learned how to...grow up.”

Both boys nodded. “That definitely can be said.”

“And so, that’s why he acts out.” You looked around, questions popping up about the hedge maze in your mind from every direction. “How long has he been alone here? Where are his parents? …How old is he?” Your eyes focused on Seungmin. “What happened to him, exactly?”

“......” Seungmin and Jeongin shared a look. It all but drove you crazy how long it took one of them to answer. “...Do you have longer than ten minutes?”

| Twelve ❧

“Hyunjin was born to a wealthy mother and a poor, impoverished father in the year XXXX. No one knows where or how they met; Hyunjin is very selective and quiet on the matter. However, documents of his mother’s family buried in one of many attics claim they met at some time around the Summer harvest festival, an annual event that used to take place here in New Amber.

“It was the responsibility of noble families to uphold the annual harvest ceremony at the start of the season. As a part of tradition, many noble families and a few middle class families with connections to noblemen and their wives would use this great gathering to announce engagements and arranged marriages, in order to shift the power to new families and invite a sense of balance to the community. Hyunjin’s mother was reportedly sixteen years old at her time of arranged marriage, to the wealthiest family in New Amber next to the king; a family called the Song’s.

“The Song family oversought all affairs in the king’s absence; which he was absent a lot, given his aloof nature and uncaring attitude towards politics. The Song family basically ruled the city with an iron fist; many offers came to them from pushy mothers or greedy fathers who wished for their sons and daughters to tie a knot to the family name, connecting a chain to their own. A man by the name of Yun Jeongsun, Hyunjin’s grandfather, was one such parent. He weaseled his way into the Song’s good graces, and they offered their youngest son to be wed.

“Hyunjin’s mother, Yun Haerin, was against the marriage from the start. She had no interest in marriage, and instead wanted to craft her own trade to be of use to society. She wished to work alongside the Song family, rather than become one herself. As you can imagine, this angered many people; not only did it go against protocol at the time, but refusing an offer from the ruling family was considered a huge offense. And the Song family took it that way.

“As she was packing to leave the city one night— as she’d decided to melodramatically run away from her problems— she was met with Hyunjin’s father, a dirt-scratcher named Hwang Jihoon. The Hwang family had fallen on hard times ten years prior when their oil company snagged a few false investments, and the company went bankrupt and fell under. Having learned to fend for himself and adapt to life on the streets, Hwang Jihoon saved Yun Haerin from some typical back alley bandits, and finding her fancy offered to escort her to her new life outside of town.

“As you can probably guess, the two fell in love during their travels, and settled for a simple life outside of New Amber. However...Hwang Jihoon wanted more for his family. 

“No one in the Hwang family ever forgot or gave up resenting the hardships they faced. And no one especially more than eldest son Jihoon. To summarize and keep this short...Hwang Jihoon became a tyrant. He used Haerin’s maiden name to forge a new path for the Hwang’s, and eventually, the nameless city they had escaped to fell flat. It couldn’t withstand the intense amount of economic tyranny and inflation. The taxation without representation. Hwang Jihoon had swindled his family to the top and drained the entire community dry.

“So they went back to New Amber. For stability. For revenge. Now having the security and stability he needed, which he stole from others, the Hwang family came back with an iron fist of their own. Due to a current drought and a bad economic year, not to mention the king up and abandoning his people, not even the Song family could stand up to them. And promising a new resurrection of New Amber, Hwang Jihoon took the throne.

“He crowned himself King of New Amber and tore half the city apart drilling for oil. As luck would have it, the community had been sitting atop a natural oil reserve that flooded the country back into promising times. Things were actually quite peaceful for the first five years...until they ran out of oil. Taking the snag in stride, however, Jihoon used his deceit and backhanded tactics to manipulate the economy, trading and stealing from other cities. Because he was so crafty, no one caught on until it was too late.

“Hyunjin had been born just a year before. Upon his birth, Haerin and Jihoon began having marital problems, according to a diary entry by Haerin. In it she claims to have regretted her choice in marrying Jihoon, and that she’d fallen out of love with him. She claims that his only interest was power and revenge, tearing down the social hierarchy to make everyone pay— and the unfortunate effects it was having on everyone. 

“In her last entry, Haerin claimed to fear for her life. She wrote that Jihoon had violently threatened to forfeit her life if it meant continuing his reign. She was never seen or heard from after that…”

...Seungmin’s voice grew faint for a while. Tension in the air rose higher, the thickness suffocating.

You couldn’t believe such a tragic and long-rich history had occurred in such a wasteland. It obviously had fallen eventually, but…

You needed to hear more. “...So he killed her? Then what happened?”

Seungmin nodded, slowly. “It likely wasn’t him. Due to his constant appearance in the public eye, it’s more probable to say he hired someone to do the job.”

You shivered. How awful. 

As Jeongin fished out and dusted off an old blanket for you, his light coughs echoing around the barn, Seungmin continued. “With Haerin gone and the Yun family name no longer needed, Jihoon continued to thrive and plunge the city to new heights— and a harder fall. He manipulated the economy to continue spinning in his favor; meanwhile, as years flew by and he became older, he began having thoughts of the future, and who would succeed in his place. Because he was a man with no trust in anyone but himself, he summoned his only son— Hwang Hyunjin— to be molded in lessons of business and trade. How to lie, cheat, and steal.

“Supposedly the brainwashing began around the age of nine. Hyunjin had been a clueless child sent away to be cared for by a few nuns from the community in a remote location before; he’d grown up without any friends, never knowing the love of a mother or father. Only the required care provided by the Sisters of the Church. However, that does not mean he was never unhappy; the sisters did a fine job of raising him, and they truly did grow to love Hyunjin as their own.

“Of course that all changed when he was taken back to the palace. From then on Hyunjin spent his days locked away in the estate’s highest tower, like a prince out of a fairytale; forced into the education of topics he could scarcely fathom. Another maid who kept a journal of her own reported the occasional, almost frequent scream coming from the prince’s tower. She noted them as punishments for incorrect responses and behavior.

“Hyunjin was fourteen when his father died. Five years of torture and humiliation, along with a healthy dose of effective brainwashing, formed him into an angry and bitter soul. Originally, he wanted nothing to do with his father’s company. He wanted nothing to do with the position of king; but being outnumbered and powerless against the force of countless impoverished civilians forced him to make changes. 

“...I did the best I could to help him. As an advisor in training to Jihoon, I truly did what I could. Honestly, seeing him that one day...the day of his coronation...it fascinated me. There, I thought. Up there on the highest balcony. That’s the boy rumored to be the source of the screaming at night. That’s the boy who is Jihoon���s only son. His flesh and blood. The son of the late Haerin, a lasting survivor of the Yun legacy.”

Seungmin took a deep breath here, sighing out into the open space between you. Watching him flashback nearly took your breath away.

“...And so it came to be that Hwang Hyunjin took the downfall of his father’s handiwork. The moment he sat down at the throne, all the lies his father weaved came unraveled. All the shortcuts and manipulation tactics came back to haunt him. All the stolen time and resources were forced to be paid back in full. Hyunjin could hardly bear the weight of it all; the toll was almost too great. Many people saw him as cursed, and up and fled the palace to be with their families in poverty. But they hadn’t seen anything yet...”

“So…” You hesitantly reached a hand forward, then flinched, retracting it. “...I’m sorry to interrupt. But how did he...um…”

Seungmin gave a bitter half-smile, nodding. “Yeah. I’m almost there.

“One night at the head of a harsh Winter, an old woman showed up seeking shelter. Hyunjin was out stalking the palace halls lamenting his position, and upon answering, turned her away.”

Your eyes widened. “She was...the Witch of the Biome. Er, whatever her name is…”

Seungmin nodded. “Yes, that’s right. The Witch revealed herself to Hyunjin, and put a curse upon all who were present within these walls. At the time that was...well, there were a few others, but before you ask about them...they’re gone now.”

You listed your head a moment before realizing what he meant. “...O-Oh...I’m so...sorry…”

The advisor shrugged. “It was a while ago. There was nothing we could do about it. It was their choice…”

Sniffling filled your ear from down below. You bowed your head to find Felix with tears in his eyes, turning to you in need of comfort. Gently, you lifted him onto one leg, hovering cupped hands around him. “And then?”

“Then...well…” He gestured around him. “Here we are today. After the people saw what he had become, families and villagers left, some in hoards, others more sparingly. But eventually the whole city was left to erosion. Hyunjin couldn’t hide his curse forever; and neither could we.” 

He stood suddenly, dusting stands of hay and a few piles of dust from the atmosphere away from him. Outside, the sounds of clarity of nightfall graced your ears.

“So now you know. This is Hyunjin’s story...and our own.”

“So then, why am I here?”

This question seemed to catch Jeongin by surprise; but Seungmin smiled as if anticipating the notion. “The Witch tends to spout riddles about how her curses can be broken; it’s like some weird tick or bad habit while she’s casting them. Or maybe it’s just the incantation itself; no one really knows. However…” He scratched his cheek, looking to Jeongin for confirmation. The red-head nodded. “We were hoping you would be the one to break the curse. You see, the incantation, according to Hyunjin, went something like this:

“Lips to lips and mouth to mouth Calls the speaker of the shrouds Summon forth your courage and might In order to love and end within night But yet if still ye cannot fathom Ending here the chilling anthem Suffer still and face your demise For all the passing days of sunrise.”

The smallest gasp escaped your lips. Sunrise...sunrise. When sunrise comes, and all is lost...

“...Hyunjin sort of lost his way after the curse was cast. Well...no. He’d lost his way a long time ago. I guess what I’m trying to say is, he never found his way to begin with. So he really lost it after the curse hit, and he was forced back into hiding. He didn’t know what to do with himself. Everything was so...messed up. It was just a mess. His whole life had been a dark, night-infested wasteland...much like this town, almost...and then it was like someone came and dropped a hedge maze over it. He didn’t know where to go or what to do. He was already lost. So he just...screamed. And cracked. He broke, like many of the mirrors you’ll find around here. Covering it up with a delusional fantasy. That’s why he acts the way he does; sort of like he’s just existing, and nothing is really wrong. Inside...it’s chaos inside his mind. Just an ill-chosen coping mechanism to disguise the front of war. So, Y/n…”

You flinched at the mention of your name, sitting up straighter. Seungmin looked down upon you with an intense fire.

“Now that you know the story, what will you do? I didn’t tell you all this to guilt you into staying, so I hope you don’t feel that way. Nor did I tell it to scare you. You have nothing to fear but fear itself; something we’ve been trying to teach Hyunjin for a long time…” He sighed.

You glanced around the worn-down barn. At the empty hay barrels, the decaying wood structures, the various puddles of rain seeping in. What were you going to do? It was a tough decision to make...and a lot of information to process.

Your eyes traveled down to the lone marking on your wrist, now appearing to have settled into something bolder. It was definitely a petal, or an ambrosial symbol of some sort. The Mark of the Rose… 

You swallowed hard. It would seem your destiny had led you here. Even if it was a sudden destiny, a fate you never asked for. If you were going to get your old life back, well, it looked like you were going to have to take a detour. “I think...I’m going to do what I have to.”

At the other side of the barn, Seungmin blinked, remaining ever calm and collected since the moment you first met him. Jeongin, on the other hand, bore his eyes into you as if waiting to hear the climax of the story. “And what’s that?” Seungmin asked.

You stood, placing Felix on your shoulder. “You’ll see. Just watch me.”

| End Act One ❧

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

[carriagelamp]

Since it’s Pride Month, I decided this year I wanted to raid the library for a bunch of different queer books to read. Mostly graphic novels in this case, because I’ve had a hard time settling into much reading lately... thought hopefully now that it’s summer and I finally have my second shot I’ll be able to relax a bit more and dig into some heavier novels again. For now, enjoy some light, queer reads that I indulged in this June.

A Wolf Called Wander

A beautiful novel I had been hearing lots about. This story follows the young wolf Swift, who grows up knowing that he and his pack are the mountains, and the mountains are them. It’s in those mountains that he grows and learns and loves… until disaster strikes and he finds himself viciously torn apart from his family and forced out of the mountains that have always meant home to him. Forced to survive on his own. Swift then begins a gruelling journey that makes him face injury, starvation, and the everpresent danger of humans as he seeks a new place he can call home, and new people with whom he can form a pack.

This is all based on the true story of a tagged wolf known as OR-7, following the unbelievable route he took through Oregon and northern California! It was a very neat read, and I’d definitely recommend it if you enjoy stories told from an animal’s perspective because this book is a master class in it.

Bloom

I decided for June to try to read a handful of different queer books, and this was one of the first graphic novels I picked up. It is a super sweet story and the art is lovely. It’s about Ari, a boy who has just graduated high school and is now desperate to move away from his small town and his family’s struggling bakery, to join his band in the city where they hope to make it big. An agreement is finally reached: Ari’s father will let him leave, if he can find someone who can replace him in the bakery, which is how Ari meets Hector, someone who sees artistry and peace in baking. For anyone that’s read Check, Please, it gives off those types of vibes!

Boule et Bill: Bill est Maboul

Another book of Dupuis comics, because I can’t get enough of them! This one I just stumbled across and ended up reading on a whim but it was very cute. Geared younger than the others I’ve read, but still quite funny. It’s the charming hijinks of a young boy, his dog, and the family they live with. Each page or so is a different stand alone joke, a bit like Calvin and Hobbes except expanded beyond a single strip.

Chicken Run: Chicken Pies for the Soul

This was a ridiculous urge I got and had to follow. I recently rewatched Chicken Run (which is, of course, one of the best movies ever made) and felt the need to see if it had ever been novelized. Well, I found something better than a novelization! This is a chapter book with “advice” and stories written by the various characters, post-movie. It really does a good job with grasping the different characters’ voices and making something simple and funny out of it. It was very cute (and available on The Internet Archive if anyone else feels like reading something ridiculous!)

Doodleville

I picked this up on a whim and honestly, I shouldn’t have bothered. It was not very impressive. Very mediocre, awkward feeling artwork, and a story that only slightly manages to redeem it. The concept was kind of neat, and I did like how the ending came about, the rest was rather… plodding. I did not like the main character at all, her friends felt very Intentionally Quirky Aren’t We Cute :3 in a way that just tries too hard, and… yeah. Meh. It technically gets the “queer graphic novel flag” but it’s so in-passing that it feels rather excessive to give it that.

If you are interested, it’s about a world were doodles actually exist as living creatures that can be drawn into existence (the rather unsettling implications of which is never fully explored). This is all well and good, until the main character draws a monster and takes it with her to her art club... where it begins ravanging not only her doodles, but those of her friends. Together they need to work together to figure out how to stop this menace.

FRNCK v4

Phenomenal. I adore the FRNCK series, and book four wrapped up the first “cycle”, revealing several of the big secrets dogging the series so far, and changing how things are going to be able to run in the future.

If you haven’t seen me talk about it before, FRNCK is a graphic novel (a franco-belgian bande dessinée) about a young orphan, Franck, who’s chafing under the constant parade of uninterested foster parents that visit the orphanage he lives in. Determined to learn about his mysterious abandonment instead, he flees the orphanage… but finds himself tumbling through time, landing among a family of cave-people who rather reluctantly take him in and ensure this modern boy doesn’t die in the strange, dangerous new surroundings he finds himself in. You can get these ones in English as e-books, so if you want a really kickass graphic novel series to read please try these.

Haikyu!!

I’ve heard so much about Haikyu!! that I finally gave in and picked up the first book from the library. And I gotta say, it’s well worth the hype! This series really does capture the best parts of a good sports manga -- which is to say the team is filled with interesting, enjoyable character who all need to learn to pull together, boost each other’s strengths, and cover for each other’s weaknesses. Love me some found family tropes and this series oozes it in the best possible way. And then you also get some very cool action scenes as it makes high school volleyball seem like the most intense thing on earth. I can’t wait to continue it

Queer Eye

I haven’t been keeping up with Queer Eye but I was watching it ravenously when it first came out, and this seemed like a very cathartic book to read… and it really was. It had the same gentle, loving encouragement as the show. It doesn’t expect you to change your entire life, but to learn to embrace who you are, and take small steps to enhance those things. There a segment written (presumably) by each member of the Fab Five, explaining the mentality behind what they do on the show and how you can grow in those areas too. It’s very zen.

Spinning

I got this graphic novel out at the same time as Bloom, but it was the one that interested me less of the two... though that’s just because I have less interest in “real world” slice of life as a genre and this one is meant to be autobiographical. If you’re into that, you’ll probably love this because it really is stunning. Very pretty, and the format and pacing is all really well done. It’s a coming of age story for Tillie as she grows up dealing with a crosscountry move, complicated friendships, a burgeoning attraction to girls, and attending competitive figure skating classes.

This Place: 150 Years Retold

A stunning and heart-wrenching graphic novel told by a collection of different First Nation’s authors/artists, recounting oral histories about the 150 years since the colonialist formation of the country known as “Canada”. In other words, this is a post-apocalypse story, but one that really happened and that entire peoples are still fighting to survive. It’s very eye opening and beautifully told. Very strongly recommend the read, especially if you’re at all interested in history.

Torchwood: Serenity

Whoops, not technically a book. I had thought these were technically audiobooks at first, but rather they’re audio dramas that were played on the radio. Still, I decided to include one because I’ve been listening to them like a person possessed and they’re too fun not to at least mention. Let me indulge in my obsessions.

If you don’t know Torchwood, it’s a BBC series that spins-off from Doctor Who, focusing on the enigmatic and flirtatious Captain Jack Harkness, who is running the covert organization known as Torchwood, which is tasked to protect humanity from and prepare them for alien contact. It’s goofy and campy but also more adult and heavy than Doctor Who tends to get, so it is (in my opinion) a really fascinating series. Though it also has content warnings coming out the wazoo so maybe make sure it’s for you before delving in.

Serenity specifically is possibly one of the best Torchwood stories I’ve ever experienced. The Torchwood team concludes that there’s an undercover alien hiding in the idyllic gated community Serenity Plaza, and so that means it’s up to Jack and Ianto to go undercover as a happily married couple and flush out the alien without being discovered first. Even if it means being sickly sweet together, pretending to care about the local neighbourhood barbecues, and actually caring a bit too much about the Best Front Lawn competition. What is truly magical about this one, is that it manages to make it a Fake Dating AU despite the fact that Jack and Ianto are actually dating in canon. But they’re both used to dating as a pair of alien hunters with insanely dysfunctional lives, and who now need to figure out how to deal with domesticity. It is marvellous.

Wilderlore: The Accidental Apprentice

A middle grade novel that felt a bit like a cross between Harry Potter and Pokemon. It’s about orphan Barclay Thorne who wants nothing more than to be accepted in the rule-bound village of Dullshire, and live up to his apprenticeship as a mushroom farmer. He certainly wants nothing to do with the fearsome Beasts who live beyond the village, deep in the Woods or the sinister Lorekeepers that bond with them. It was, after all, a Beast that had killed his parents all those years ago. But when he finds himself at the very edge of the forest, hunting for an elusive mushroom, he is suddenly unable to avoid any of that. Not when a wild girl and her bonded dragon appear to summon a horrible Beast and end up getting Barclay bonded to it instead. Now, if Barclay ever wants to be welcomed back into his home, he has no choice but to venture into the Woods and find a way to sever the bond imprisoning him to the massive, monstrous wolf now imprinted on his body as a living tattoo.

I honestly can’t decide how I felt about this one. I feel like it’d be a really fun read for maybe a grade 5 to 7 student? I was a bit more meh about it. It was fine, but it was very hard not to draw unfavourable parallels to Harry Potter. But for a kid who’s never read Harry Potter? Or even an adult that has but is looking for something different to scratch that itch, this might be a good book to try. I’ll probably try reading the second book when it comes out.

[sunshineandfangs]

The Long Way Home pt. 2

Here it is, part two of The Long Way Home. This one is full length at around 6.6k words and contains mentions of Damon’s abuse, character death, moments of Dark!Klaroline, and some torture.

Also, this does follow a lot of the major touchstones of the Klaus & Stefan portions of the episodes The Birthday and The Hybrid, 3x01 and 3x02 respectively. I also stole some dialogue. It’s of course NOT exactly the same at all, but just a heads up if you’re looking for a complete AU. It hasn’t diverged that far quite yet. Klaus after all, no matter what’s happened with Caroline, is only meeting her now and isn’t about to derail his plans to make more hybrids.

---

When Klaus had guided Caroline from the bar she wasn't expecting to see Elijah waiting for them. His expression likely appeared blank, bored even, to the less discerning, but she could see the flickers of irritation and confusion. His eyes were narrow as he swept them over her figure, a cool assessment.

"One of yours, Niklaus?" He asked, a slight tick in his brow as he stared at his brother.

The Hybrid grinned in response. "Not quite, brother, this here is the lovely Ms. Forbes."

This time his brow fully rose as his gaze darted back to her with now noticeable shock. "The sheriff's daughter?"

Klaus' grin widened.

Caroline watched, a little intrigued, as Elijah tucked away his emotions, his features smoothing once more to something utterly placid. "Your... curiosities aside, I do believe we still have business to attend to?"

The Hybrid chuckled, clapping the other man on the shoulder as he gestured them both on. "Right you are, brother."

---

'Always something worse' really ought to be Caroline's catch phrase by now, depressing as that was. As the three of them approached the door to one the apartments, each of them could make out commotion beyond.

Not that Klaus seemed to care, nor his brother for that matter, both of them waltzing in without a care. Caroline didn't bother, leaning against the hallway wall, well aware the threshold would bar her entrance. She was also only half listening to the exchange going on, jolting only once she heard Elijah scream. She couldn't say she was surprised by Klaus' actions, but they chilled her all the same. Such ruthlessness had to be both applauded and feared after all.

She sighed and rested more of her weight on the wall as her ears picked up the continued discussion inside. This was going to be a long wait.

"Trouble is," she heard Klaus' voice drawl, "I don't know if you'd be any good to me. The way you are now, ...you are just shy of useless. In fact, I've just recruited far more fascinating company. She's far prettier to look at too, aren't you, love?"

Caroline released another exasperated breath, knowing how to read a cue and irked by the unnecessary drama of it. All the same, she obligingly pushed off the wall to stand in the doorway. Her impassive eyes took in the shock of Stefan and Katherine. The delighted mirth of Klaus. Even poor Elijah's sprawled gray corpse.

"C-Caroline?" Stefan stuttered in confusion, a hint of panic welling underneath it.

She tilted her head, wondering at that, before realizing he feared she'd let Elena's miraculous resurrection slip. Well, they may not be friends anymore, but she wouldn't throw a child to the wolves (a tiny corner of her mind snorted) needlessly. Though none of those thoughts crossed her face, her expression as calm as when she entered.

"Stefan," she acknowledged.

He stared at her for several long moment before his shock washed away, replaced by a steely resolve. She was mildly impressed as he whirled around to face Klaus and attempted to fight for her.

"Let her go! She has nothing to do with this! Make a bargain with me."

"Quite right, she has nothing to do with this.  Weren't you listening, mate? You're of no value to me. And are in no position to bargain for the likes of your brother let alone a second vampire."

"...What do you want?"

Even when the Hybrid had already swung things in his favor, he still continued with the theater of his demands. Like a cat playing with a mouse. And not even a hungry one either, he was the cat that played with his food because he could, because he was bored. Caroline could almost appreciate the, by comparison, rather blunt way he had approached her. Nothing more than the standard unspoken warnings and mind games between two ancient creatures.

Here, now, Klaus was dragging it out. He made a show of pouring himself a drink, pretending he needed time to weigh his words. As he spoke he even deigned to periodically pause and sip the alcohol, as if it were top-shelf liquor and not second rate bourbon at best.

"I heard about this one vampire, crazy bloke, always on and off the wagon for decades. When he was off, he was magnificent. 1917, he went into Monterrey and wiped out an entire migrant village...A true ripper. Sound familiar?"

His eyes darted to her as she shifted, for all that his focus had seemed to be on Stefan. Lips quirking he wondered aloud, "Something wrong, sweetheart?"

Caroline read the challenge in his eyes, the clear prod for her opinions. What type of vampire she was. Well, she would have to disappoint. 

"No," she said simply, tone unruffled. And she was sure he would have demanded more had Stefan not cut in.

"I haven't been that way in a very long time."

The newly revealed Ripper of Monterrey seemed to be saying this more to her than to Klaus, his eyes ashamed and pleading with her to believe him. 

As if she cared for his kill count. No one reached the age she had without a slew of murders to their name, nor without one or two fuck ups they truly regretted.

"Now, now, don't look to her. Not only is she not the one in control of your brother's fate, but the Ripper is precisely the vampire I am willing to make a deal with."

Stefan's face hardened as he looked back at his tormentor. "How do I know you even have the cure at all?"

It seemed as if Klaus was just waiting for such a question to be asked. His production able to continue, as he proceeded to make a show of biting and then curing Katerina. And then watched with true schadenfreude as Stefan capitulated and began to all but guzzle the blood handed to him.

Bored and a tad disgusted Caroline moved away, choosing to lean against one of the walls once more. The wise choice considering it took almost twenty minutes before anything of interest happened. When Katerina blurred away, Klaus' voice was a whisper in the air, far too quite for a vampire not even two centuries old to hear.

"Pursue her, Caroline, and bring her back to me. I'm not finished with her quite yet."

---

Caroline stared up at the window she could just see from the front entrance, the Salvatore boarding house another half-remembered dream. It was funny, the things that lingered longest in memory. Of all the faces of her past, it had been Damon's that took the longest to blur and fade. And as the two doppelgängers and the dying had their little chat, Caroline was contemplating more important matters. Life. Death. Closure. 

She hummed to herself, stepping into Katerina's path as she moved to flee. With narrowed eyes, the brunette warily regarded her, far less oblivious than Stefan.

"Caroline," she muttered, "no hard feelings." Her voice then sounded as a whisper in her ear. "I'm a survivor after all."

A crack of a snapped neck sounded through the air.

"No hard feelings," Caroline replied, well aware of the irony as she gazed down at the sprawled form of the other vampire. This time it was Katerina who was 500 years too young to come out on top. Caroline had not been about to allow the other woman to kill her for the second time, and for all that she did have some measure of admiration for Katerina's ability to survive, Caroline too had now survived the ages. More than that even, she conquered them.

Shifting her gaze from the temporary corpse to the boarding house, Caroline wondered.

---

Amusingly, Caroline tracked down her newfound companions just as Stefan was uttering, "You won't be seeing her again, you know."

Klaus' eyes met hers as soon as she came into view, his lips twitching into a slight smirk. "Ah, excellent timing, Caroline." His eyes switched targets boring into the Ripper. "You see, Stefan, I rarely get played for a fool. A little insurance policy and the dear Katerina is back in my hands."

Stunned, the Salvatore whipped around, watching with wide eyes as she let the still unconscious vampire drop to the floor.

"Consider this your final test, Ripper, before we leave this tragic little town. Prove to me you were worth my time."

Klaus had stalked up behind the other as he spoke, and Stefan tensed with every step.

"How?" He gritted out.

"Simple, mate. You're going to torture her to death."

Stefan swallowed.

"And should I decide your efforts are lacking in any way, then I will exact my price from Damon's life instead."

Defeat was painted across every line of Stefan's face. 

The Caroline Stefan had known would have been horrified by the imminent torture, even if the victim was to be her once tormentor and murderess. She would have protested, spoken up, something. But this Caroline, this Caroline was a bit too darkly satisfied. How perfect it was for it to be her that delivered Katerina to her death, at Klaus' hand even. Such perfect symmetry.

Thus, Caroline only watched as the brunette was strung up with chain around her wrists, forced to bear all her weight on those limbs as her return to consciousness sent her body lightly swaying.  For a young vampire, Stefan was shockingly inventive in his methods. The woman begged for her life hoping for Stefan's mercy and then honestly pleaded as her body grew more ravaged. 

She died screaming.

---

Several hours of silent travel later, the three of them were checked into a suite style hotel room. Two beds, a pullout couch and a decent amount of living space. 

While Stefan silently slunk away to shower off the crusted blood his clothes had carefully hidden, Klaus stepped up behind her where she leaned against the metal railing of the small balcony. The warmth he emanated was odd for a member of the undead, though she chalked it up to his recently unchained Wolf.

As water beat down on flesh and tile, Caroline waited for the man to speak. She twitched, his finger tracing a feather light pattern on the bare skin of her shoulder. With a light tug at a strand of her hair he murmured quietly, "I couldn't help but notice, sweetheart, the little gleam that entered your eyes when I mentioned Damon."

She supposed it shouldn't surprise her that he had noticed, though his eyes had seemed riveted on Katerina at the time. Continuing to peer into the distance, the moon still near full as it waned, she let the silence linger for a few more moments. Neither of them in any particular hurry.

"Yes," she muttered in return, her eyelids falling to half mast as she remembered. Remembered how it felt to stare down at the once elder vampire who was still weak and bundled up in bed. As much as she had wanted to believe he had no power over her, she couldn't deny how good it had felt to see him at her mercy.

It had taken him a while, but eventually he had sensed her presence and opened his eyes to peer up at her.

"Hello, Damon," she had greeted, flatly.

He had had no time to do anything more than widen his eyes at her presence before her hand had sunk through his chest, splintered ribs as her clawed fingers clenched around his heart.

"Goodbye, Damon."

And then she had yanked her hand out.

"His death wasn't yours to issue, Caroline."

At that, Caroline whirled around, unfazed by just how close the Hybrid was standing to her. All the better for him to see the ferocity burning in her eyes.

"It was, Klaus. Deals and games aside, between the two of us I had far more right to it than you did."

The two stared each other down, Caroline unyielding and Klaus intrigued. He might have started this confrontation with an admonishment, but there was no anger in his gaze.

"This was personal," he concluded, a statement not a question.

Despite the heaviness of the situation Caroline's lip slightly quirked up. It's not as if she was ashamed of her actions, nor ashamed of their cause. Not anymore. And on matters such as these she was happy to draw her lines in the sand.

"The question is still burning in the back of your mind, I can see it. How is it that I am both the sheriff's daughter born in 1992 and a vampire to rival your own age? But regardless of how, both are fact. And when Damon first came to town I was a clueless human. It made me easy pickings, as I am sure you can imagine. A constant blood supply, a convenient minion, a warm body for him to fuck, uncaring of what I had wanted. The latter is not a forgivable offence. Not to me, Klaus."

To his credit, the Hybrid seemed to be taking her seriously, nothing on his face suggesting that he was making of light of what she had revealed. Instead, he wordlessly took a step back. Her eyes slightly widened as inclined his head to her. It was neither pity nor a taunt on his face, and he did nothing more to acknowledge her newfound personal space.

The water shut off, and Klaus pivoted to walk back into the room proper, his parting words echoing in her mind.

"Yes, it was your right. Goodnight, Caroline."

---

"Rudy! Rudy. Come on! It's too hot to make me come looking for you. Ru-"

Alyssa snapped her mouth shut as noise became apparent from the forest. It didn't sound like Rudy, whose movements were normally smooth and would greet her with his happy barking. She tensed, squinting into the darkness and trying to make out anything suspicious. 

She was seconds away from retreating into the house to grab her rifle when a disheveled blonde woman, girl really, burst through a shrub. Her eyes widened in shock as the girl stumbled, nearly falling on her face, the weak porch light now illuminating a figure far more hurt than merely disheveled as she had believed. Her clothes were torn and dirty, there were scratches and bruises and blood peppering the skin of her limbs.

The girl seemed to suddenly realize her presence, jerking her head up to stare at Alyssa, her eyes bulging with panic and a tinge of hope.

"Please! Please, help me!" The girl's eyes were wild as she whipped her head around, looking frantic, hunted. "I-I don't know if I lost him. Please, I- could I come in? Just for the night! I promise."

The girl looked like she was about to jitter right out of her skin, and Alyssa couldn't help but feel for the poor girl. Her reply was near instant.

"Yes, yes of course. Please, come in." She flung the door open, shuffled on the threshold unsure whether the girl would take comfort in her touch.

Once the younger blonde was inside, Alyssa made one last sweep of the property, what little she could see, and resolved to grab the rifle after all. When she turned to face the girl once more, plans of reassurance fell to the wayside as shock consumed her.

It was like staring at an entirely different person, the fear and panic gone in favor of confident composure. The injuries that had littered her body completely gone, though her clothes remained tattered.

"My apologies," the other blonde said softly before Alyssa knew no more.

---

Caroline was careful to set the unconscious woman down gently before flashing into the kitchen to knock out the second person she could hear. With both of them (relatively) painlessly out of commission it was a simple matter for her to snoop. Receipts, planner notes, email, anything that might hint at the presence of a werewolf occasionally stopping by.

It didn't take too long to find a promising lead, as Caroline dug up several receipts from Southern Comfort belonging to a Sutton, Ray. A quick check of IDs revealed the two women to be one Sutton, Alyssa and one Miller, Kiara. The next step required some use of gentle compulsion, but a few careful questions and a memory wipe later the two were fine and none the wiser. Their dog found panting on the front porch, whining to be let in.

A mere instant later Caroline, appeared a mile away beside Klaus' black Lincoln Navigator. And she didn't waste time, tossing her phone to the Hybrid, Google Maps already opened as she explained, "There's a bar called Southern Comfort on Highway 41A, about twenty miles or so north of the border in Tullahoma." As she spoke she was also carefully peeling her disheveled outfit from her body, packing it away should she need it for another ruse, and tugging on a pair of skinny jeans and a cute top.

When she glanced over at his silence she caught the interest in his gaze, appreciative of the curves she hadn't bothered to hide, though a different curiosity glimmered beneath.

"You're quite the actress, Caroline. Such effort you exert for the humans."

She scoffed, circling around to get into the passenger seat, Klaus appearing in a flicker to get the door for her. She paused beside him. "If I had left it to the two of you, we would have been down several leads and carving a very obvious bloody swath across the Eastern seaboard. You're an Original and obviously in a celebratory mood considering your recent success, I get it. No need to be quite so fragrant about it though."

Not waiting for his reply, Caroline climbed into the car, settling into her seat as Klaus zipped around to the driver's side. The vehicle came to life with a rumble of the engine, only a few seconds pause before it accelerated down the road.

Klaus' gaze shot from the rear view mirror where Stefan's brooding face was visible to hers. "You're rather ruining Stefan's purpose here, sweetheart." Matching glints appeared in their eyes, similarly amused by the macabre inside joke.

"Hm, quite."

---

It wasn’t worth the effort to prevent her nose from slightly crinkling with distaste. Southern Comfort was very...Well, it was exactly what she expected really. She heard Klaus chuckle behind her as they walked toward the bar, no doubt having picked up on her judgmental thoughts.

"I doubt Ray will be a cooperative chap." The Hybrid sounded almost gleeful about it, and it was a struggle to resist the childish urge to roll her eyes.

"He'd be a poor werewolf if he gave up his pack so easily."

"And what will the lovely Caroline's role be today?" Is she didn't know better she would think he almost sounded concerned. It had been a while since she had last been violent, she supposed.

With a quiet hum she let a thread of power slip loose, carrying with it a net of compulsion, reassuring Klaus even as she ensnared all the humans. "I care little for unwarranted cruelty. That doesn't mean I don't accomplish what I set out to do." She peered over her shoulder, a small smirk on her lips, "I did get us here after all, didn't I?"

If there was a bit more sway in her hips as she waltzed into the bar, that was her business.

---

Throwing back a shot of tequila, Caroline relished the sharp burn of the potent alcohol. Her senses flared as a man leaned beside her at the bar, the wait finally bearing fruit.

"A woman that knows how drink? Nothing's sexier."

She turned sideways on her stool, giving the man a swift once over. A scruffy beard. Plaid and jeans. Very Southern Comfort. Also clearly the Wolf they were looking for.

"Hello, Ray," she drawled.

His eyes widened, flattered at first before he stiffened as Klaus appeared behind him.

"I've been looking everywhere for you." He nodded towards her. "We started in Pensacola, met a young chap there who used to work with you before you moved to Memphis. Now, he directed us to ah what were their names? Kiara and ...Alice? No, Alyssa." His grin widened as Ray paled, body a coiled knot of tension and fear. "Lovely young women really, and they led me here. To you, Ray."

The Wolf was a roiling mixture of panic and fury. His eyes were streaked with Wolf gold as he snarled at Klaus, "What did you do to her?!"

Looking far too amused, the Hybrid gestured towards her. "Me? I did nothing. No, no I didn't even set eyes on them. If you want to ask after dear Alyssa you should really inquire after my lovely partner here."

The growl that emerged was more lupine than human, teeth unnaturally sharp as he bared them at her. "Vampire," he roared, "what did you do to my sister?"

Caroline calmly wiped away the spittle that had landed on her cheek, unimpressed by his display. "Fished around for some answers, but really Ray I would be far more concerned for yourself than your sister."

"She's quite right.” Rage tended to make fools of people, as the Wolf appeared to have somehow forgotten Klaus at his back judging by how he stiffened at his voice. “Your type is rather hard to come by, Ray. And while she may be a vampire, I am a different kind of monster. I've got some vampire, I've got some wolf."

The poor man appeared to be shocked out of his rage and catapulted straight into utter confusion. "You..what?"

"A hybrid, Ray, I'm both. You see I want to create more of me. Now you being the first werewolf that I've come across in many a moon, pun intended, I need you to direct me to your pack. So, where can I find them Ray?"

The Wolf swallowed loudly to their keen ears, fists clenched at his sides. "I won't surrender them to the likes of you. And you can't compel me. It won't work."

Klaus' eyes flicked sideways as Stefan appeared in a flash, the Wolf now thoroughly surrounded.

"Tell you what, Ray," the young vampire started, tone filled with faux friendliness, "we're going to play a little drinking game, something I like to call truth or wolfsbane."

With perfect timing the bartender silently stepped over to place a large collection of darts beside them.

A chuckle as Klaus leaned into his personal space.

"There's no fun in compulsion, Ray, but there is in crucifixion."

In an impossibly fast blur, Caroline rushed the two of them, wolf and vampire, down the length of the bar, slamming the broken legs of a stool through the man's palms, near literally crucifying him to the wall.

There was a trace of sympathy in her eyes as she listened to his screams. "You'll want to struggle, Ray, and it will be agonizing. I assure you, should you manage to rip your hands free we'll simply string you up. Again and again."

The Wolf glared up at her without saying a word, his breathing ragged and pained. Exasperated by his stubbornness she turned away, catching Stefan's eye as he mixed wolfsbane into a drink. He looked at her like she was a stranger, no doubt recalling their confrontation a month or so back. It had been sweet of him to pull her aside, to offer to take the punishment so that she could flee from Klaus. However, she had had no interest in being anywhere else.

"Your intent to rescue me is admirable though unnecessary, Stefan. I'm not the young, girly Caroline you remember anymore." He had likely thought her compelled then, but now she could see the words were sinking in.

He too looked away, letting the first of many darts fly.

More tortured bellows sounded as Caroline settled beside Klaus at the bar once more. He looked at her, the near constant curious gleam still present as he extended his hand in invitation. She quirked a brow a bit surprised by his dismissal of the show occurring behind them, one that he had finished endorsing so gleefully. Though she didn't refuse him, wondering what he was after now.

His touch was uncharacteristically gentle as he cradled her hand, tracing the deceptively soft skin of her fingers, her vampiric nature erasing any hint of hardship. "You neither revile nor relish in torture. You commit murder as unflinchingly as the rest of us, yet compassion still stays your hand. So, I can't help but wonder what is it about Stefan that makes that little glint of disdain appear in your eyes when you look at him." Yet not when you look at me, She heard unasked.

Tugging her hand free, Caroline impassively observed Stefan's progress. Ray's body was already littered with a small collection of darts and wounds, the young vampire seemingly deciding at random when to yank one free and when to simply hurl another one.

"Stefan's ability to be such an inventive torturer is useful. And his skill at it may have come as a surprise to me, but it would be rather hypocritical to be disgusted by it. No, it's his feeding habits. Past half-way to his second century, and he's barely better than a newborn. It's a disgrace."

"I've quite enjoyed his savagery in the past, sweetheart. Too few vampires revel in their true natures."

Caroline glanced back at him sharply, feeling an odd pang of disappointment at his opinions. "First of all it's not his savagery I take issue with, it's his control. I may not care much for the most malicious of our kind, but at least it's a choice on their parts, albeit a poor one. Stefan rebels against himself so fervently that it rebounds, that's not reveling in his nature it's being a slave to it." She quieted a bit, the harsher lines of her face smoothing out as she searched his, wondering what he was thinking of her now. Wondering what she thought of him. "And secondly...secondly it's not a vampire's nature to be monstrous. Our nature makes us predators. Everything beyond that are deliberate decisions. Or it should be."

---

Klaus slipped at the drink he had called over earlier, watched as the blonde predator stalked away. Such passion lied within his golden fascination. 

His tongue darted out, swiping at the lingering taste of alcohol on his lips. He still wondered at the conundrum her existence posed, his mind occasionally pondering whether something as extraordinary as time travel might be possible. But that wasn't his main fixation anymore. He was far more intrigued by how a thousand years forged the woman he saw before him.

---

Stefan's spine stiffened as she stepped up behind him. She refrained from reacting, nudging him aside.

Ray looked pitiful. Palms ravaged and sluggishly leaking trails of blood. Every few inches of him was marked by a dart or the damaged flesh of one pulled free. She reached out to cup his chin, lifting his slumped head so she could look him in the eye.

"Your loyalty is admirable, Ray, but everyone has a breaking point. We'll find yours. You'll tell us where your pack is. Save yourself the trouble and give in now."

He weakly sneered through bloody teeth. "Go fuck yourself."

Caroline just tsk-ed. "Have it your way." Her form flickered as she rushed to grab something and then returned. Holding up the blade for his perusal, she spoke casually. "See this, Ray? This is a magically reinforced silver blade. 100% pure. Now, unlike what the common mythos presents, werewolves heal from silver. It would be like torturing a vampire, their recovery speeds allowing for methods beyond the limits of mere humans. Shall we have an anatomy lesson, Ray? How many organs could we count if I cut you right here?" She tapped the base of his sternum with the flat of the blade, a deft twist allowing its edge to slice through his shirt and skin. They watched together as the wound healed in seconds.

Ray looked into her dark, fathomless eyes, daring him to test her resolve.

He broke.

---

After some grouching and snark on Stefan's part the three of them arrived just beyond the perimeter of the werewolf camp, Ray's temporarily dead body slung across Stefan's shoulders.

"Ah, there they are. As promised."

A few turned in their direction at Klaus' voice, the rest gasped and stared as Stefan dropped Ray's body. One of the women ran to kneel by his side, her voice distraught. "Ray! Oh, my God. What's going on?" She looked up, a slight growl underlying her tone. "Who are you?"

A master of dramatics, Klaus took the cue to step forward, a wicked kind of mirth on his face. "The important question is who am I. Please forgive the intrusion. My name is Klaus."

The woman continued to look confused and agitated. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

He chuckled. "It will."

"You bastard!" Someone else shouted out, a younger man, teenager really, lunged out of the crowd toward Klaus.

It was effortless for the Hybrid to dodge, grinding the boy into the dirt under his heel. "None of that now. I have big plans for you all, can't have you recklessly throwing your lives away." Just to drive his point home, Klaus stepped on the poor boy to return to his original spot, continuing to speak as if nothing had occurred. "It's fascinating, actually...A werewolf who isn't beholden to the moon, a vampire who doesn't burn in the sun. A true hybrid."

Caroline shook her head, apparently Klaus' dramatics were enough to affect the rest of the world too, as Ray awoke at just that moment with a choked gasp.

"Excellent timing, Ray. Very dramatic." He couldn't have made it more obvious how much he was enjoying himself.

"What's happening to me?" In direct contrast the werewolf couldn't sound much more dazed and overwhelmed. 

"Caroline, love?"

She pushed off from the tree she had been leaning on in the background, speeding forward to appear in front of the blond man half trying to disappear behind the she-wolf from earlier.

"No!" She screamed, racing forward to hurl Caroline from him, a foot away when Klaus intercepted her in the blink of an eye. Not that she would have succeeded, but Caroline appreciated the time to try the calm the poor guy. It seemed Klaus was learning.

"Hey, hey take a deep breath." His heartbeat was frantic, his scent so obviously, deliciously human. "We're not going to let Ray kill you or anything, he just needs a little bit of blood to complete his transition. Only a sip I promise." She leaned down to grab a discarded bottle and held it out to him. "He won't even have to bite you, okay?"

The man stared into her blue eyes, no compulsion, just the picture of a sweet, gentle young woman. His hyperventilating slowed. "Okay...okay." 

Caroline smiled as the man took his own pocketknife, carefully cutting a shallow gash on the back of his forearm. 

"Thank you," She said, turning to crouch beside Ray and offering him the bottle. "If you don't drink, you'll die."

He eyed her warily, but eventually swiped the bottle from her hand, downing it in silence.

"-rather die than be a vampire!"

Caroline sighed. Wrong choice.

"Wrong choice." A crunch of broken flesh reached her ears along with frantic struggles as Klaus forced his bloody wrist into the she-wolf's mouth. "She'll thank me for that later. Heh." With no further fanfare, the woman slumped to the ground with a broken neck. "Okay, who's next?"

Several tried to flee with no success. Three vampires (well two and the Original Hybrid) were more than enough to catch them all. Klaus also stopped playing around quite so much, methodically giving blood and snapping necks. It only took minutes for the rest of the pack to fall.

---

Then it turned into another waiting game, the anticipation only broken by Ray’s hoarse whisper.

"They're dead. They're all dead."

Caroline frowned. She tuned out Klaus' reassurances and eyed Ray, noted how he was clenching his own arms tight around his body, trembling. He should be feeling energized after transitioning, not like he was going through severe withdrawal. She sat beside him, brushing sweat soaked curls from the man's forehead, ignoring Klaus and Stefan's descent into bickering.

Her frown deepened as blood started seeping from his eyes. "Klaus," she said sharply, his body appearing on Ray's other side. "Something's wrong."

"That shouldn't be happening, should it?" Stefan asked, sounding a bit snide. 

"Be silent, Stefan." "Well, obviously." They said together, their tones equally annoyed.

All the while, Ray continued to shake between the two of them, looking worse by the second. "You said it was gonna feel better. Why doesn't it feel better?"

Before Caroline could offer any of her own reassurances the she-wolf gasped awake behind her with unnatural quickness. She had only been down for ten or fifteen minutes or so. Far too short for any turning Caroline had ever witnessed. Still, she wiped the turmoil from her face and smiled over at the human.

"Come on, Derek, let's help your girlfriend."

Always something worse proved true again, as Caroline whipped around at the sound of a commotion. Watched as Ray vanished into the words, body jerking between uncoordinated scrambling and lightning fast speed. Speed to match a vampire a century old at least.

Klaus snarled. "Retrieve him, Stefan. Now!"

Taking a moment to guide Derek to a safer distance from the newly woken she-wolf, Caroline made her way over to Klaus. He too looked like he was about to vibrate out his skin, though it would be with fury not with whatever had overcome Ray.

She didn't say anything, didn't offer comforting touches as she might have with her friends. Klaus was far more likely to reject them than not, but she did offer her presence. Caroline took no joy from most people's suffering. Not that of werewolves who had done nothing to her. Not even that of a supernatural scourge like Klaus.

However, there ended up being no time for the Hybrid to calm. Around them the other wolves also jolted back to life...in a manner of speaking. Each of them already bleeding from their eyes. Klaus glanced around a grim look on his face and a curse on his tongue.

Caroline considered attempting to use Derek's blood, but the thought quickly vanished as one of the wolves lunged for them. It set off a chain reaction as more wolves leapt to attack while a few others simply keeled over. The first few Caroline only snapped their necks, partly out of regard for Klaus' plans partly out of hope Ray was a fluke. That ceased when Klaus himself started yanking out hearts.

Between the two of them it was short work putting them all down. She was more concerned for Klaus who looked enraged, but also a little bit anguished.

"I did everything I was told." There was a danger in his stillness, the quiet menace of his tone. His eyes flashed gold as he stared at her, as if she had the answers. "I should be able to turn them. I broke the curse. I killed a werewolf. I killed a vampire. I killed the doppelgänger."

Her face remained blank even as her mind raced. Perhaps she did have the answers. True, she had had no intention of condemning Elena with word of her resurrection, but now it looked like it would be one life against many. Besides, she also had her suspicions that it wasn't her death that was needed here.

---

Fury was boiling inside of him. His temper only contained by centuries of practice and a smidge of genuine regard. He had noticed how Caroline hadn't killed until he had. She may not be loyal, but she at least had respect for what he wanted. She didn't deserve his wrath.

His rage simmered a little lower still as he watched with mild surprise as the blonde stepped a few feet closer to him. Not close enough to be in immediate range, but even so. Brave of her. 

And then she spoke.

"The doppelgänger isn't dead."

He froze. An instant later he had her pinned against a tree, his forearm across her throat. "What did you just say?"

"There's a spell that allows life force to be sacrificed to another. I assume Bonnie found it and used it to resurrect Elena. I saw her briefly before we left town." To her credit, the blonde remained calm, had neither fought nor flinched when he lunged for her.

He wasn't in the mood for commending people.

"And you said nothing to me. Now, why is that, lovely?"

Her lips pursed, apparently displeased with him. Unfortunate. "I hadn't thought it mattered. You successfully broke your curse, I figured Elena deserved some peace."

"Except it rather appears I haven't. Broken my curse, that is."

Despite his tone, she actually bloody reached for him, her hand gentle on his arm, not yet fighting him. "I recognize the determination in your eyes, Klaus. You won't stop until you can turn the wolves. And if I have to I will pin Elena down myself, one life in exchange for many. But consider it may not be her life that's interfering. The wolves all bled from their eyes, as if their bodies were rejecting it. Perhaps, it's not human blood that they require to turn?"

He hated to admit it, but her reasoning was sound. He'd certainly have to experiment before ending the bloody Petrova line for good. Eyes absorbing the expression in hers, he looked for any trace of deceit. After another moment he stepped back, releasing his clever vampire companion.

"Apologies, Caroline. No hard feelings?" He offered a sheepish smile in the face of her empty expression.

A tiny smirk was his only warning before he found himself staring up at the sky, his breath knocked out of him. She leaned over him.

"Now, we're even." Her smirk faded into something more serious. "Don't manhandle me again, Klaus. I won't let you off so easy if you try it a second time."

He blinked up at her, a little angry, a little shocked, and a little impressed. Slowly, he rose to his feet, still staring at her.

"...Alright, I suppose that's fair."

"More than."

It was at that moment that Stefan emerged from the forest, Ray's actual corpse this time, once more slung over his shoulder. As the Ripper approached, Klaus contemplated his two companions, the stark differences between them. 

He blurred forward, ensnaring the last remaining Salvatore brother in his compulsion. His hand rose to smooth back a wild curl that had escaped the vampire's normally flawless styling job. And he let his knuckle linger on skin.

"Tell me, Stefan," he purred, "were you ever going to give me your loyalty?"

His panic was obvious in his scent even as his features remained slack under his thrall.

"No."

"Hm, and what about the doppelgänger?"

"I am doing all that I can to protect her. She will always have my loyalty."

It pained him a little to have to relinquish a connection he had once found joy in. But Stefan had just become a loose end. A vampire unwilling to be loyal, and that was before he learned of his brother's death.

"I'm afraid this is the end of the road for you, old friend."

He broke his compulsion, Stefan's eyes blowing wide. "Klaus wai-"

His heart hit the floor first. Then, his body.

Klaus stared down in silence as he took a moment to say his silent goodbyes to his friend's corpse. And then he was turning, walking smoothly over to his more trustworthy friend. He pressed a hand to her back, a mirror of an action he took not long ago, though the sentiment had entirely changed.

"Come along, Caroline. It seems you're the only companion I have left."

[daisychainblogs]

The One Where I Leave At The Interval: and it is entirely, 100%, no-I’m-not-kidding-ly unintentional

As light dips on the Weston stage – I feel a little anxious.    

I am at the Bristol Old Vic to see Moises Kaufman and the Tectonic Theatre Company’s The Laramie Project: performed by the graduating students of the Old Vic’s theatre school, directed by Nancy Medina. The specifics of the play are a little hazy - I know it will tell the true story of Matthew Shepard’s murder: the twenty-one-year-old victim of a gay-hate crime which took place in the small town of Laramie, Wyoming, in 1998. And I know that the script is a scrap-book-type-medley of interviews – eyewitness courtroom accounts, newspaper reports, doctors’ notes – but that’s it. Everything else sits quietly in the dark.  

 So - I’m nervous. Performances of any autobiographical leaning – especially one as unsettling as Kaufman’s – make me decidedly queasy. This will be sharp and heavy, I think. I’m a little afraid to pick it up.  

  As the lights start to dim, I take a long, deep breath. Brace, brace - here we go.  

 And it goes; and the story is told, and I have my opinions, but it’s fine, and I’m fine, and then – well, then - then suddenly it’s not going anymore, and it’s ….over?!  

 It’s a very odd ‘over’. We get a boisterously loaded line about ‘hope’ – ‘H.O.P.E’, each letter separated from the next - how Matthew’s story is filled with it, how Laramie rallied and marched for it - and then this larger than life thunderbolt sound and accompanying projection crack across stage and then that’s – that. Lights up, end of.  

 I turn to my friend – eyebrows a-scrunch.  

 ‘Weird’ I say.  

 ‘Mmmm’ she mmmm-s.  

 ‘I mean - is that it? Is that an interval? What’s up?’ 

 ‘No, no’, she assures me - ‘I think that’s it. Finito. Over and out’.  

 Curious – but I’m reaching for my discarded-earlier-here-somewhere jumper, so - not overly curious, I suppose.    

 ‘Bows?’ 

 ‘Oh – well, it’s the Old Vic students’ final show-case-of-talent type performance– I guess they don’t need them?’  

 Makes perfect sense to me. It seems sensible - admirable, even – that our ensemble doesn’t expect a clap and a whoop for the telling of such a story. It is real after all - not ‘entertainment’ in its most straightforward of senses. It’s Avant Garde – it’s drama school! It’s no bows!  

 So. We shrug on coats, grab bags - cast those final, habitual looks back at the house-lit stage – and potter out of the auditorium. 

 One bus ride and on front-door-push later, and I’m flicking on the kettle, reaching for the caffeine – preparing to burn the midnight oil. Pen poised; coffee sipped – let’s go. First up - what, when, who, why – Google’s got me. And so I’m skimming and skimming and I’m gathering the  various necessaries and I -  

 ‘Over two and a half hours, its audience is made to pay witness to - ’ 

 Skimming scuffs to a halt.  

 Two and a half hours. Two and a half hours… two and a half hours?! Surely, I wasn’t in there for two and a half hours, I think.  

 *tick,tick,tick* 

 …that slightly odd finish…no bows… 

 Oh NO. No, no, No  

 ‘It’s long, FIRST HALF feels particularly tough’    

 *it was at this moment, she knew...*  

 It wasn’t finished. 

 We left at the interval.  

 So here’s the point in the story where I hold both hands up and state, for the record - Brownie’s code, Scout’s honour – that I, Daisy Game, am a twit.  

 ‘How?- *bash* ‘HOW’ *bash* ‘did I manage’ *bash* ‘to do *bash* that?!’ (*bash*) 

 After an extended period of whacking my head against the laptop keyboard to the rhythm of my own embarrassment - I pick up the phone and call my partner in the crime.  

And yes, she is embarrassed – ‘yeees? …yes…What?!’ – but once she’s through that initial period of All-consuming English Shame (‘I feel awful! ‘) - she is a little less inclined to pull a keyboard head bang manoeuvre.   

 ‘No – but – it was over?! We would have known, surely? It just felt over – I mean you know when it’s over, right?! You can kind of just feel it and - and - I – I just – well, what else was there left to tell?!’ 

And yet – over it most objectively was not. 

 But here’s the thing. I know it seems ludicrous - but let’s pretend for a second, just for fun, that I have a leg to stand on. Because then maybe (emphasis on the ‘may’ and on the ‘be’) --- I can defend myself?  

 I might not be a fully fluent, tour guide worthy local in the land of theatre - but I’m certainly not a map-carrying tourist. It’s always been a quiet love of mine - (Brava to the village hall and its stellar pantomime, circa 2007-2010). I go to shows regularly, and I tend to know the format of the thing. So given that I have never before done something so plainly idiotic (in the context of an theatre, at least) … might there be something in the suggestion that - somewhere, somehow - this play led us to believe that it was over? 

Because as I sit at my kitchen table – pondering on the knowledge that, at that very moment the Weston stage was most likely crowded with enthusiastically bowing final year theatre students – I am not sorry that I am here, and they are there. 

 I know it was unfair, set-yourself-up-to-lose kind of expectation - but I think I expected to be more shaken by it all; to walk out and carry it with me for days – or at least hours – to come. But when it came to it, I was simply struck by the strangeness of The Laramie Project.   

 Yes, it pulls out all the theatrical bells and whistles – the fourth wall is shattered, we get multi-rolling, we get synchronised speech – but it all somehow seems to lack intent, or purpose, beyond the stage.  

 Should we really need to our actors to hop skip and jump – changing role, changing costume, talking to us – oh what larks! – to stay with this story from start to end? Should we need to be ‘entertained’ in such a hyper, frantic manner? Because it is not an entertaining story. It is a deeply, deeply disturbing story, and the way this play tells it seems a bit bolshy and overly stimulating. The ensemble element – the actors skipping and leaping across the stage – is just a little self-conscious. As each actor shrugs into their next role, a temporary chorus member leaps to said shape-shifters side – thrusting a fist-and-thumb point in their direction and announcing the name of the character we have just witnessed the entrance of in the middle of the stage. the best way to put it? It’s loud, and it’s a little attention seeking.   

 I know I’m being harsh. These techniques I bash with such abandon do ‘work’: the strange ‘everyone plays everyone’ thing is pretty fitting for this story. Doctor – shopkeeper – priest: as members of the Laramie community, one and all are oddly complicit; the multi-roll skips and jumps seem to suggest. The shop keeper is the doctor, and the doctor is the priest: and all three are Laramie. It’s all one great mess of a community. ‘It’s not the town – things like this don’t happen in Laramie’, we are told time and time again. But, as one town member quietly admits – it did happen: and so, things like this do happen in Laramie – and so Laramie cannot get off scot free by pointing the finger and isolating the blame at its most obvious perpetrators.  

 I think I get it – but like it? Appreciate it?  That’s another matter. And Did we really need to hear a car horn toot across stage at the mention of said vehicle? And that thunder… 

 So - going back to discussion of my earlier-than-intended rendezvous with pyjamas and notebook– and please know that I really don’t mean to sound overly literal, or pig headed, or ignorant (although I realise that I very likely might) but - what else was there left to tell? We’d heard about Matthew. We’d been told about his deeply disturbing encounter. His time in hospital, and his passing. We’d seen the trial, and the verdict. And we’d been left with a pretty heavy ‘closing’ line (‘H-O-P-E’ … there’s always hope’). I really don’t feel that any more was needed. And the approach to the play didn’t leave me wishing for more where that came from.  

 I think it’s important to reiterate at this stage that I do know full well that, thanks to my premature exit, I forfeit the right to comment with integrity. Maybe in that all-mysterious second half, it starts to make sense. ‘Oh, no’, the play might perhaps have gone on to chortle – ‘No - we WANTED you to feel that way. We wanted you to feel it was a little contrived, and loud. We had you fooled’, and maybe it then proceeds to prove exactly why such fooling was necessary. And I’m not saying that the performances themselves weren’t accomplished. The Old Vic theatre school consistently nudges out star after star – Erin Doherty, Josh O Connor – and the quality of acting was stellar. Strong, confident, professional. Hats off.  

The more apologetic, more cringingly embarrassed half of me wants to clarify once and for all that – true, it might not have been my all-time favourite production - but I would never, under any circumstances, have left the show early. It’s rude, it’s unfair – and I swear: it was an accident. I can only apologise to the cast and crew. 

 But the less apologetic half of me? Well – that part of me is colder. Because that part of me thinks that even if it this was the case – even if that second half explained the whole thing - isn’t the whole of act one an awfully long time to make your audience wait for the ‘ahaaaa’ moment – a long time to wait before pointing your audience toward the light switch?  

 So – I leave you with two lessons learned. Take from them what you will. 

Lesson number one: solid performances can’t save iffy technical and strange scripts.   

Lesson number two: Always, always wait for the blasted bows. 

 Signing off, a (still) very embarrassed, chaotic student.   

[prorevenge]

How I stopped my co-workers and I being bullied, by outing that awful woman as a serial sexual assaulter. TW mentions of sexual assault.

I think this is a pro-revenge, if not tell me and I will post it elsewhere!

Also, this will be a long one... I am very verbose, and it spills over into text too!

A long time ago I worked for a fast food place that has a very noticeable “golden” (bright yellow usually) symbol.

The People Involved:

Me: a 17-19 year old male living in a medium sized town in the UK. (I am now old, relatively, damn, how does that happen? :) ) Also a giant toker at the time, had dreadlocks and smoked almost everyday.

Bitchqueen: a hostile, but shockingly beautiful, and thoroughly nasty human woman, approx 19-23 ish during all this nonsense.

TheBigMan: a 2nd assistant manager who I got on really well with from day one. He took no shit from bullshitters, had zero tolerance for Bitchqueen (his usual greeting was something like “Hey Bitchqueen, who are you going to pick on today?”) and if he saw her bullying someone he would just walk in between her and the victim and bend down to stare in her face. She would walk off and pretend nothing had happened. More than once he stated if BQ were a man she would have been beaten senseless by him by now. He hated violence, but she was really awful! Also he was a bit of a unit. As in 250lbs of muscle and a gym obsession long before it was cool! Also a fairly big smoker, we used to get high after work a lot with some of the other employees.

AwesomeManager: my stores 1st assistant manager, who was a wonderful women who helped me as a human a lot in a huge number of ways. Protecting me from Bitchqueen was only part of it.

Senior Area Manager: who I will call SAM, since all the actual Sam's I have know have all been good dudes too! Also a great protector from the BS of BQ.

MonsterBitch: the new store manager and the proximate cause of her own, and BQ's downfall. Also a troll faced harridan who oozed hate and bitterness.

So time to tell the tale of how it panned out.

I had been there a year or so before Bitchqueen was promoted to manager. Until then she was obnoxious but powerless, but somehow, after marrying the store manager she got a promotion (jumping the next two steps up at that) to second assistant manager. Surprising eh?

I had been warned by TheBigMan when I was first hired to never be alone with her as she had a number of young men fired for “groping” her by her Store Manager-BF/Fiancé/Husband (even when the video showed that there was no close contact let alone groping in some of those cases . I was super careful in this regard.

Bitchqueen started playing games with the rota against me and a few others she hated. I think she hated me because I got along with most people, and she always hated sociable and non-bitchy people. Her favourites got the best shifts and the people she hated had our hours cut and shifted about without warning. She would pencil in changes a few minutes before a shift started (I caught her doing it but her store manager husband didn't want to deal with it) and then send home the one who turned up for their (now given away) shift with a warning. She would then call up and scream at the one who was off, but now suddenly on shift, for not arriving when they had no idea the shift was changed. It's sort of genius really, getting two workers Bitchqueen hated in one blow! She did try this crap on me but I just called Awesome Manager and she checked the computer records and sorted it out, she also let Bitchqueen know she was going to be checking the rota daily and approving all changes, so Bitchqueen had to find a new tactic.

I was a pretty hard worker (it made the time pass quicker for me) and was friends with the AwesomeManager (and TheBigMan), who protected me from Bitchqueens bullshit almost all of the time, and would fix things when shit happened while AwesomeManager was off work. I also cultivated a good relationship with with our SAM, and he ended up setting up a special store rescue team to sort out failing (franchise usually) stores in the area, placing me in charge of it as the top trainer of the group (Bitchqueen was maybe 7 months into being a manager at this point). This made me more or less untouchable (as long as I kept my nose clean) and so Bitchqueen went mental. She started on my friends, bullying and abusing them in work, and trying to get them all written up. They told me and I told AwesomeManager, she slapped Bitchqueen down again, metaphorically of course. TheBigMan made some complaints about her treatment of the other staff and she calmed down a little. Until her husband got “promoted” to a different store some distance away. Later SAM admitted this was an attempt to calm the drama at our store... But how wrong it all went!

Our new store manager was a MonsterBitch, but good at hiding it to begin with. After a few weeks AwesomeManager noticed that only young women were getting accepted after interviews, and pointed this out to Me and TheBigMan, and asked us to keep out eyes and ears out for anything dodgy going on. It wasn't long until it became clear what was happening.

I had made pretty good friend with one of the new hires (I admit it, I was interested and she was hot ), I will call her ShyNSweet, she was a lovely but very sheltered young lady from a nearby village, living in a house share in the town we worked in. She went out with “the girls” a group centred on MonsterBitch, Bitchqueen and a couple of MonsterBitch's “friends” on a Friday, and the next day in work was really distracted. We finished at the same time so I offered ShyNSweet a lift (that is I gave her a ride home in my car for our American friends) and she said yes since we lived pretty close together. In the car I asked if she had a fun night (just asking to fill the time, I wasn't digging at this point) and she replied in a very non-committal way. I remembered her saying she had a great time to Bitchqueen earlier during our shift so I asked her if she was OK. She burst into tears and told me that she had been the back of a Taxi with MonsterBitch and one of the “friends” (Bitchqueen was upfront) and MB and the friend had been groping ShyNSweet really hard (she showed me some bruises on her sides and thighs later, she said she had more on her boobs) and telling her she had to go back to their house and “experience real sex”. I was livid! But I tried to be outwardly calm. I told her that they should be punished, and I would support her, and I knew that SAM, AwesomeManager and TheBigMan would all have her back. I recommended we go to the police, but she was afraid she would lose her job. I knew she wouldn't, but couldn't convince her quickly and I didn't want to traumatise her further, so I just said what ever she chose I would support, and to call me if she is ever in a similar situation and I will come get her. She hugged me for ages crying and we went and had a cup of tea in her house. Her flatmate knew something was up and I encouraged ShyNSweet to tell her too. She did and I left after making them more tea.

I had to do something, but I couldn't directly involve ShyNSweet, and although I knew SAM, AwesomeManger and TheBigMan would believe me I had no direct evidence of an assault. So what to do? Well the first thing was to check where I stood legally, and it turns out the UK is a one party consent recording jurisdiction. As long as I am in place with no reasonable expectation of privacy I don't have to inform anyone I am recording audio or video, at least according to the lawyer I asked who is a friend of my step-father. Work counted as no expectation of privacy, so I was good to record everything. Of course back then the smallest video cameras were the size of a small shoe box and really expensive, and I was a burger-chucker, so cash was tight (smoking a lot of weed didn't help there either). But you could get some reasonably cheap audio recording stuff, that with an ok microphone could be hidden in my shirt. So I started a log of Bitchqueen and MonsterBitch's antics in the store, it was nearly 8 months of recordings in total before the fan was struck by faeces. While they didn't direct much at me anymore I was able to capture multi-minute rants from both of those awful harpies on almost every shift for about six months, in one recording I got Bitchqueen ranting at a co-worker for about 20 mins and then me for another 30 mins or so after I redirected her towards me. They would call workers (almost always men, but any woman who had turned them down got some shit thrown their way too), stupid, useless and worthless etc, with lots of fun adult words mixed in. They also got into the habit of threatening everyone they dislike with firing.

I also got a lot of audio from young women about how creepy and sexually inappropriate MonsterBitch, Bitchqueen and their little gang of “lesbian” managers (most of them were or had dated men, so Bi I guess, but horrible humans regardless of their orientations) were to the women who worked for us. I got several direct statements about female co-workers being abused and told to keep quiet by the abuse gang members on various girls nights out, and a few of them referred to bad things happening at MonsterBitch's house when they were too drunk to remember everything. Basically we had a blackmail and rape gang operating in our midst!

The final attack on me came when I was called into work by AwesomeManager and told I was being investigated for smoking weed on shift. While I did smoke a lot of weed at the time I never went to work high (food you get fired for eating without permission and the munchies don't mix), and anyway that day in particular the accusation was dated was one where I hadn't had any for a couple of days or been able to sort any out for a smoke after work either. So I was totally truthful when I was asked about it by AwesomeManager, and she said that because of the bullying she was escalating this to SAM, so she “suspended” me on full pay pending an investigation. The next day SAM called me and asked me to come for a formal interview, as the first part of the information finding process. He also said TheBigMan was on shift and would be happy to be my witness. So I went down and sat in the crew room waiting for SAM with TheBigMan. SAM stuck his head around the door and said “Deny everything to do with weed!” and winked. He stepped out again and then opened the door with a serious face and asked myself and TheBigMan to come through to the back office. We went through a few questions and I answered everything truthfully (pretty sure SAM thought I was smoking that day but gave no fucks about weed) and the interview ended with SAM reinstating me, paying me for the previous day and the interview day and giving me another store to fix for two weeks to get me away from Bitchqueen and the pack of harpies.

When I was back from the failing store, but not working that Monday, I got a call from ShyNSweet. MB and BQ had told her she had to come to their “Girls only” house party that Friday (it was going to be a BBQ and probably a lot of raping drunk girls by hostile lesbians). The rape gang had been telling all the attractive girls to go to the party or “think about finding a new job if you can't be a team player”. (MB, BQ and another horror worked at our store, the other 3 worked at a nearby store)

And that was the straw that broke the proverbial camels back! I had those awful bitches!

I had organised the audio files into groups by person and topic, I had over 10 hours of insults and abuse recorded and I had nearly another 10 hours of staff telling me how they had been abused by BQ, MB and their pack of rapists.

I called SAM and told him I had to speak to him that day, he agreed and we met at a competitors store (I think they have a kingdom of burger chuckers ;) ) at lunchtime where I sat him down in front of my awful (at the time super cutting edge lol) laptop and had him listen to bits of the rape allegations first.

He started shaking with rage after about 30 seconds, stopped it and told me to go to the police.

I then started on the abusing rants messages and he listened to bits of a bunch of them and asked for copies of those files. I had already burned them to CD so I handed them over and went to the police station.

I asked for a woman police officer and had her listen to the abuse allegations. She took a CD copy of those and told me to be quiet while the investigated. I said fine, but that this Friday the rape gang would have a number of under 18's at an alcohol fuelled rape party. She asked for and got the address and details. I passed on the names of all the women who I knew for sure had been attacked in the past too, since the police wanted to contact them to confirm things, the police here never give out witness information so I was safe from retaliation.

The next Thursday I was on a late shift, so I arrived around 15:15 and when I got there the store was shut but the staff were inside. I got let in and told what had happened.

MonsterBitch and Bitchqueen had been on day shifts and were apparently non-stop talking about how great their girls only party would be, how any girl who had a boyfriend would dump him after spending the night with them, and how any women who didn't attend were basically traitors to womankind. After about 6 hours of this, and at around 14:00 6 police officers come into the store and arrest MonsterBitch and BitchQueen on suspicion of sexual assault, blackmail, extortion and assault. They were both removed in handcuffs and SAM was there just after the police to shut them out of the computers and officially suspend them. When I arrived they were just getting set to re-open so we got back to work.

Later I got more info on the case, my best friends older brother was in the police force locally and he kept us updated. MB's rape house was raided, the police found lots of videos of what was clearly assaults on drunk and non-consenting women. They got lots of text message evidence for planning sexual assaults and talking about how to control young female employees to get them to have sex with the rapists. They also had lots of threatening messages to victims to be quiet or face revenge/loss of job etc. All their victims were under 20, with most being 16-18. But the deepest fuck up for them came from this evidence, and I had no idea when I got this all in motion.

MonsterBitch had picked up a young woman from a club a few months earlier. This young lady was up for lesbian sex with MB, BQ and another friend, while a fourth on filmed it. But the young lady was 15 and just looked over 18 with makeup etc. So the rape gang had produced child porn inadvertently.

MB, BQ and all the other managers who were involved were fired after the arrests/charges.

They were all charged with a number of things, but the courts back then were even more lenient to female sexual offenders than they are now, so none of them saw prison. But they were all banned from working with children, or in an environment where children will be present, and the ones who were married/in a relationship were all divorced/broken up inside a year. Because of the UK laws at the time they were also not named publicly.

I know Bitchqueen never really recovered or grew past this, I see her now and again if I visit my mother, and she is still beautiful, but so clearly broken its almost sad.

ShyNSweet was my girlfriend for a year or so a few years later, we parted on good terms as she was off to study overseas.

AwesomeManager went on to be a store manager, and then a Pro Dominatrix, which wasn't a real surprise to me ;) She was/is a fun lady

TheBigMan, went on to run an IT dept in a large company, still a top bloke!

And I ended up in a field I love, being paid actual money to more or less mess about all day, and that is doing my job! :)

(source) (story by burgerchucker)

[esandcasg]

Chapter 5 – River of Ice

The Godwin Antwi glacier spills down from the high range of the Karakoram mountains in the Himalaya. The snow and ice which flow from the mountainsides collect on the valley floor, forming a colossal, slow-moving river of ice, five miles wide at its widest point. By turns it is a cauldron of heat in the midday sun, reflecting light back upwards from its pure white colour; and relentlessly cold at night, a frozen wilderness. It was here, ten years ago, I had begun my slow trek home, shattered mentally and physically from my ordeal on Kangleong.

Ten years later than ten years ago, I never expected to be back here. Aside from Primark, it was the last place on earth I wanted to be. And yet, here I was, trekking poles in both hands, 120L bag over my shoulders, Step Into Christmas piped inappropriately into my ears via the rip-off Beats wireless earbuds I’d picked up in Nepal some years earlier.

Over a beer at the bar in Gerudo Town whose name I should look up in the last chapter but can’t be bothered, Adam and Ifan outlined the logistics of their plan. Their proposal was simple; find the missing section of the sixth route, the crux pitch, as we might have called it. The clear aim of destroying Kangleong was to prevent anyone from accessing the route, but Ifan and Adam had one advantage; they’d already found the Kangleong section anyway. The question was, where it went from there. In fact, you could even argue that there were two missing sections; one which led from Kangleong to the edge of the Himalaya and another which led into the Himalaya. But you can’t have two crux pitches so for the purposes of keeping my metaphor viable I’ll just pretend there was one missing section and deal with the other bit later somehow. Maybe you’ll forget it exists, or more likely I probably will.

Anyway, where was I? I was on the Godwin Antwi glacier, that’s where. But I was also delving back into the mists of time to that bar in Gerudo whose name I should look up.

I don’t know what was motivating me to follow Ifan and Adam on a trip that I fully expected to be dangerous or, even worse, uneventful. Maybe it was concern over Adam’s mental health; maybe it was a chance to help Ifan solve the mystery of Adam’s own disappearance. Maybe it was to help capture Sir Henry Craven, apparently known affectionately as ‘John’ by his family. Or maybe it was a chance to find something I’d lost.

But in truth I’d given up searching for my old iPod Nano years before. I had established a good life for myself in Nepal. My spartan wooden hut, one floor, two rooms and a roof, had provided me with the serenity that I did not know I needed. The balance with my environment was something I had only even found on climbs. Despite the various routes I had pioneered on rock, I hadn’t realised why I climbed, believing that, as I mentioned in a section of Vertical Summit definitely not stolen from the 2003 drama-documentary ‘Touching the Void’, I climbed because it was fun. In truth, I now knew I climbed to find some sort of balance with the world. That balance had only even become apparent when I moved to my Nepalese hut.

Shortly after they had laid out their plan, I returned to the hut. I knew it could be for the last time. As I went downstairs to my basement and opened the chest which contained my climbing gear, I had a flashback to wearing it on Kangleong. I could also swear I heard a voice saying “Andrew; these are your first steps”. Carefully I laid out all my gear, meticulously checking over each inch to ensure it was all in top condition. Methodically I began to pack my 150 litre backpack, slowly placing in each item of my inventory which it is probably wise not to itemise here in case I need to change it later on. Lastly I placed what I called my ‘Juju’ box in the small pocket of the bag’s lid. This was a metallic box containing things close to my heart; a rib, a layer of cholesterol and the 4k reissue of Leon/The Professional.

My bag packed, I sadly took one long last look at my home before switching on the alarm and locking the front door behind me. Generously I had turned over stewardship of my vegetable garden to the rest of the village; they would soon enjoy a bumper crop of patty pan squashes and kohlrabi, as well as cut and come again salad crops.

I’d agreed to meet Adam and Ifan in the centre of town, next to Tosche Station, where we’d begin the long journey to the Karakoram. I hopped onto my moped, donned my helmet, and looked back at the hut behind me. I just had the strangest feeling; like I wasn’t going to see it again. Reluctantly I turned my back on my home, switched on the moped, listening for a moment as the 120cc beast ticked over, before opening up the throttle and roaring away from the village at a breathless 17mph.

Eight hours later I had covered the twelve miles to Tosche Station; ironically it was somewhere I’d always intended to go to pick up some power converters. Adam and Ifan were waiting for me there.

“You’ll have to sell your moped,” said Adam.

“That’s okay,” I said, trying to project some enthusiasm that I didn’t feel. “I’m never coming back to this town again.”

The local cantina wasn’t too far away and it didn’t take me long to find a punter willing to part with hard cash or pastry goods for my moped. Given the amount of money I suspected we’d need I was horrified I couldn’t get a better price. I showed the paltry amount to the other two.

“He says it was the best he could do. Since the XP-38 came out, they're just not in demand.”

“It’ll be enough,” said Ifan. I noticed what seemed like some tension between the two of them, but decided against saying anything. There would be plenty of time for chat on what I knew would be a long and arduous journey.

The traditional well-trodden route to the Karakoram range was now a simple one. Would-be climbers and trekkers would fly into Kathmandu and then take a bus to Ja’hansell Skwair outside Gerudo Town. There, at the local airfield, they would normally charter a plane to take them on an hour’s flight before an easy parachute drop to Broad Peak base camp.

We would be doing things differently, however. Flights and bus journeys require manifests, passports, travel documentation; all would be logged on databases. Whilst Adam and Ifan would be able to use assumed names, it would be difficult to use assumed faces; therefore running the risk that someone, somewhere, would realise they weren’t dead and pull down the large statue to Ifan in Princes Risborough, as well as potentially letting Craven know. If he didn’t already.

So we would have to travel on foot; normally a thirty day journey across valleys and mountains, though we were hoping our high level of physical fitness would let us get it done in only twenty-nine. Each of us carried a 230lb backpack over our shoulders; we could not rely on Sherpa help for this, and were too snobbish to recruit High Altitude Porters as we’d only ever heard bad things about them on check-a-trader. It would be us, and us alone. Having gathered our things together, hoisted our bags onto our backs and had one last fry-up in the Saucy Sailor, we set off, away from the town and into the hills. In front of us was a magnificent vista, although this would soon give way to Windows 7. We could see a deep, lush green valley laid out in front of us, patches of smoke rising from smallholdings dotted about the hillside. Local yak herders tended their flocks. The Goraks, Himalayan ravens (as well as being the name of the covers band I had been in for the last two years), flew lazily above our heads. Lifting our eyes we looked beyond the valley and the hills to the horizon, where the edge of the Himalaya mountain range could be seen, rising majestically above the greenery, like field mushrooms behind baby spinach in my fridge’s salad drawer.

We headed north-west, towards a small group of hills I christened a small group of hills. We knew that on the other side was a less well-known pass into the mountains; one ignored by the trekkers due to the severity of the traverse, known locally as the traverse of the gods. The path would take us down into the valley, to a mere 3000ft above sea level; then back up another 4000ft; down a further 2000ft and then up to a dizzying 24000ft where we would encounter our final port of call before the Himalaya proper: Ha’ow Bazaar. As tradition would demand, we would make an offering at the Buddhist Temple and ask for a blessing, assuming someone was in.

Although we had a long journey ahead of us, and therefore plenty of time for classic bants, I again got the impression there was some sort of tension between Adam and Ifan. Adam was striding ahead, impatient to be at our initial destination as quickly as possible. This in fairness wasn’t new, but there was something unspoken about the way he had marched ahead without a word. I hung back a little, hoping to chat to Ifan, but he wasn’t in the mood either.

I walked on my own, a little distance from both of them, alone with my thoughts. It was easy to be consumed with the path ahead of me. And not just the metaphorical path, I had to be careful as it had rained recently and was muddy. But the metaphorical path was my main focus. Ever since I had returned to my hut there had been a melancholic finality about all my actions. In truth, I knew I was saying a long goodbye, though to what I didn’t know. Everything I was doing felt like it would be the last time. In a sense, I felt this journey was closing a door behind me. Whatever happened, I knew that I would no longer be able to return to the life I had.

I looked up at the distant, snow-covered peaks on the far horizon. For so long they had dominated my destiny. For a while I had resisted, pretending there was another life for me. But I knew that I had been fated to return. I knew that there was a circle I needed to close, a hole I needed to fill, a bathroom wall I needed to grout. Whatever answer I was missing, it would be there, in the Karakoram. I was drawn inexorably to these mountains, my destiny entwined with theirs. I started to realise what it was I had to do.

Suddenly I realised both Adam and Ifan had stopped in their tracks.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

And then I saw.

A vast plume of smoke was rising lazily above a hill ahead of us. The hill looked close – maybe six or seven miles away – but was probably further.

“Ha’ow Bazaar?”

“Ha’ow Bazaar.”

The temple was clearly aflame. We couldn’t be sure what had happened, but it was clear that in Adam and Ifan’s collective hive mind there was an obvious culprit. Craven. Without another word they turned and started heading upwards, to the west, away from the valley and the route we had planned to take.

“Does he know we’re coming?” I asked as I traipsed behind them.

“Don’t know,” came Ifan’s terse reply. “It may be a coincidence.” He looked at Adam; it was clear neither of them believed that.

We walked for an hour, heading steadily upwards, until we reached the top of the main ridge overlooking the valley. The night before, Adam had shown us the possible routes we could take towards the Karakoram and had listed potential places we could stop. We knew that at the top of this ridge there was a Subway, so we each got a footlong and sat underneath a rocky outcrop. From where we were seated we could see the plume of smoke even more clearly.

We sat in silence for a while, as Adam and Ifan ate unhurriedly and I caused myself unnecessary indigestion by wolfing my food down as soon as possible. Finally I broke the silence.

“What now?”

Ifan shook his head. “We can’t use the pass. That much is crystal clear. We can’t use anything known to anyone, it doesn’t matter how hipster and obscure it is.”

“What does that leave us with?”

Ifan shrugged his shoulders.

I took a swig of my bottle of Fanta Zero. “So what do we do now? Turn back?”

“Turn back!” scoffed Adam. “There’s no turning back. We’re through the looking glass now people. Black is white and white is black. We have to assume Craven knows we’re coming.”

“But how?”

“The first thing you should know about him is he has people everywhere,” explained Ifan. “The network is vast. This is someone who has been operating out of this part of the world for decades, provided employment for thousands. This is his back yard. There’s huge loyalty to him.”

“He clearly knows something is going on,” continued Adam. “He’s levelled Kangleong and now is trying to stop access to the Karakoram. Whether he knows we’re after him specifically is irrelevant, really. We’re going to have to find another way in.”

“But won’t he have got all the passes covered? If he’s got most of Nepal loyal to him like you said, it wouldn’t that difficult to have someone watching.”

Adam nodded, but there was a far-off look in his eyes that I remembered from ten years previously.

“The Gasherbrums.” He said, finally.

Ifan’s head turned sharply.

“What?”

“The Gasherbrum traverse.”

I felt a chill sweep over me. Suddenly, I realised I was only wearing a string vest and quickly took out my microfleece from my 260lb backpack before being able to contemplate what Adam had just said.

“The Gasherbrum traverse?” I repeated pointlessly.

Ifan shook his head ruefully. “That’s insane.”

Adam grimaced. “Can you think of another way?”

Like other keen students of mountaineering, I’d heard of Messner and Habeler’s famous traverse of Gasherbrum I and II in 1984. It was a huge feat of climbing prowess by two climbers at the top of their game. What I didn’t understand was how repeating this traverse would help us at all. These two mountains were nestled in the middle of the Karakoram range and wouldn’t afford us a way in.

“I’m all for a new challenge,” I said, “but how’s that going to get us into the mountains in the first place?”

“Not that traverse,” replied Ifan, still shaking his head. “Traversing the entire Gasherbrum range. Nine mountains. All above six thousand metres. It’s a knife edge ridge, running up and down for, I dunno, thirty miles? Think Crib Goch, but with worse parking.”

“Has it been done?”

“Never. No-one has even tried.”

“That’s why it’ll work,” said Adam. “It won’t even be considered a route. Or at least a safe one.”

“Well it’s not safe is it? There’s a reason it’s not even been tried. They’re not exactly easy peaks; maybe a couple of them are. The rest are technical climbs. Nine in a row? And, add to that, we know that someone working for Craven is able to send avalanches down at least one of the slopes of Gasherbrum Four.”

“Well if anyone has any better ideas, feel free.”

“There’s got to be another way in, surely?”

There was a moment of silence, before Ifan spoke again.

“There isn’t,” he said.

I felt the metallic taste of adrenaline in my mouth. Looking down, I realised I’d accidently bitten off the zip to my fleece. I spat it out, watching it tumble down the slope and inadvertently set off a mudslide which killed seventy farmers.

Was I really about to embark on another perilous mountaineering undertaking, one that had never been achieved previously, in the company of two sexy men who I didn’t even know I could trust? The deep sense of fatalism which had settled over me unsettled me, if that makes any sense. I still wasn’t convinced with either Adam or Ifan’s motives, but I was already getting Air B’n’B bookings for my hut now and didn’t want to forgo what looked like a tasty income stream. So I was all in.

I slotted a round into the chamber of my rifle and slammed the bolt home. “Let’s do this,” I said.

We packed up our items, making sure to separate our lunch waste into the appropriate rubbish bin, hoisted our 140L backpacks over our shoulders and set off. After three miles of walking along the top of the ridge, we stopped at The Drunken Clam for a cheeky pint, a wee, and to put on our crampons. Ahead of us was a turn to the north-west. We had reached the snowline.

I put on my belay jacket, overtrousers, double boots (plastic outer, foam lined inner) and all the rest of the crap I can’t be bothered to list here, and watched silently as Ifan and Adam did the same. I started to shiver, put on a woolly hat and then stopped shivering. But the shaky feeling remained. Within a short while we were dressed as we were ten years before.

Here I was again. Facing my demons on the snow and ice, though it was probably unfair to describe Ifan and Adam in that way. But facing them I was, as they were walking in front of me. The crampons of my right boot crunched into the snow. I stopped and looked up. I knew that the next step I took would be a point of no return. I knew I was following them into the abyss. I knew that I needed another metaphor to complete this paragraph.

But on I went anyway. Into the abyss.

[dragongoddess13]

31 Days of Halloween Prompt Challenge

Day 10

Sirimione

Grabbing at the same time for the last copy of a scary movie.

Ao3

xXx

Hermione had had an awful day. And awful was the only word she could use to describe it, because her entire brain was absolutely fried at this point. Between the utter incompetence she was surrounded by at work (depositions were supposed to be the easy part of the legal process) and personal drama that would not stop invading every aspect of her life (seriously, they were broken up, stop sending her flowers and chocolates and worst of all, singing telegrams), she was thoroughly over all of it. All she wanted at this point was to pick up a copy of her favorite scary movie, a crap ton of junk food, a gallon of wine (or two), and go home to cuddle her cat while she pretended the world didn’t exist for the next three days.

That, of course, was apparently not in the cards for her.

Had she not been so emotionally drawn out she might have noticed how cute he was. Had she not been so angry she may have been a little more accommodating upon first interaction. Had she been thinking clearly she wouldn’t have made a colossal ass of herself.

Sirius was only interested in one thing that day: the pretty little brunette he’d noticed around town for the last six months. She was new, he was sure. This little village was small, not much to it, small town businesses down main street, a few family owned restaurants and a small population of residents. Everyone pretty much knew everyone, or at least of everyone else, but he knew very little about her. She was a professional, he knew that much; commuted into the city every day for work. She lived in one of the flats just off the main road through town, but he didn’t know which one. She was very closed off. She spoke only to be polite, which she very much was. She avoided excessive conversation with most people.

Sirius had seen the young woman that evening heading into the video rental store and finally decided that it was time to talk to her. The only problem was as soon as he was within range, his usually suave instincts failed him and he found himself floundering. His only instinct as he approached her was to look away, seizing the first thing he saw to occupy his attention. Unfortunately that thing was the same thing she was there for: the last copy of a horror movie he’d never seen, and like most horror movies, would probably hate.  

“Seriously?” she huffed under her breath and for a moment he thought he’d completely messed up. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude,” she began, drawing his attention back to her. “But this is not happening today.” She continued tugging the DVD case out of his hand, dropping it into her hand basket once she was successful.

Maybe if she hadn’t taken him by surprise. Maybe if he wasn’t such a confrontational person, he wouldn’t have spoken before he thought.

“Now, hold on a moment, why do you get it?” He cringed inwardly, screaming at himself to just let her have the movie. He didn’t even like horror movies.

“Because I have had a truly awful day. All I want in life at this moment in time is to go home, watch one of my favorite movies and gorge myself on take out and junk food,”  she told him none too gently.

Sirius looked skeptical. “And a slasher flick is going to make you feel better?”

“If it were December we’d be arguing over a copy of White Christmas, but it’s not December, it’s October.”

“Fair enough.” he conceded. “But that doesn’t really solve anything. How do you know I’m not having a bad day too?”

Now it was her turn to look skeptical. “Are you?”

He shrugged, floundering a bit. “Well, no, but still. Why do you get the movie just because you're having a bad day?”

Hermione sighed harshly.

“I think there’s only one way to handle this,” Sirius went on. “We’ll have to watch it together.”

Hermione froze. He couldn’t be serious. He looked very serious.

“Are you serious?” she asked.

He grinned. “Yes, actually.” He offered her his hand. “Sirius Black.”

She stared at him for a moment before accepting. “Hermione Granger.”

“From Shakespeare?” he questioned, surprisingly enough, excitedly.

Hermione tried not to judge people by their appearances, but even she had to admit the man standing before her in ripped black jeans, an Aero-Smith t-shirt, and black biker boots did not seem like a fan of Shakespeare.

She nodded.

“That’s awesome.” He grinned.

“Thank you.” She looked down before he could catch her blush. She caught sight of the DVD case, laying on top of the candy and packs of popcorn in her hand basket. She sighed. “I suppose it could only be fair,” she conceded. Sirius smiled triumphantly.

Two years later as she walked down the aisle to meet him, he would remember that night. James would mention it in his best man speech as the night Sirius bailed on guys night to make a fool of himself in front of the woman of his dreams. Hermione would laugh at the memory of him practically sinking into the sofa at first scream.

[rob-blog1234]

WEEKEND TV HOT FILM PICKS!

Check out my guide to the top films on TV this weekend, the best of the rest and what to avoid at all costs! Enjoy!

LATE FRIDAY 7th APRIL

HOT PICKS!

TCM @ 2350       The Exorcist (1973) *****

Although many have tried, no one can ever match this exorcism film. It is so well put together and will always withstand the test of time. It’s quite a simple premise with few parts but that doesn’t dilute the power and ferocity of its impact.  Some say it looks old hat with today’s standards of Horror, but I disagree - it still packs an excellent punch. The script is superb with performances to match.  The Exorcist has proven itself as a scary and impressive piece of cinema history that will always get my vote.

Horror @ 0240      Grabbers (2012) ****

I came into Grabbers ready for a mediocre throw away indie monster flick with little in the way of quality and fully expected another dud added to the long list of substandard horror comedies. B-Jesus! I was wrong. Grabbers layered up the appreciation and just kept on giving.

Set on a small Irish island Grabbers introduces us to some beautiful scenes of the luscious Irish coastal countryside with some rather stunning cinematography that oozed loveliness on Blu ray. Immediately it had my attention. We are introduced to the booze riddled local Garda Ciaran O'Shea who is meeting up with a very focused young Garda Lisa Nolan who is transferred to the village for a short while. She immediately realises there’s not much in the way of Police work to do in this remote Irish fishing village. The film succeeds wonderfully at building their relationship interweaving it into the story of an unknown multi-tentacled creature causing havoc to the sea life and local populous alike.

As we establish the alien creature is a lot bigger and more dangerous than was previously imagined, comes a splendid plot development that these blood sucking creatures can be killed by high blood alcohol levels! Here the film descends into a wonderful, farcical and very drunken stand-off in the local pub. The scenes of the lock-in are great and all the action within the pub is captured really well.

It’s worth mentioning that although its indie roots and meagre budget the CGI is great and directed well to give it real solid appearance. The main reason this film worked for me is the two leads, they are great together and particular praise goes to Ruth Bradley whose inebriated scenes are absolutely spot on.

There are a few lulls and it’s by no means perfect, it tends to lose pace a little too many times but overall this film pitches its comedy well removing itself from any confusion regarding the lack of Horror. Grabbers knows what it is and it is not ashamed to show it. A very competent comedy and addition to the genre. Funny, well presented with a great main relationship, for fans of the genre and for fans of films like Tremors - this is a must see.

Best of the rest:

ITV2 @ 2100      Knocked Up (2007) ***

TCM @ 2100     The Hunt for Red October (1990) ***

W @ 2240          Chocolat (2000) ****

Dave @ 2200    Blade (1998) ***

#### AVOID AT ALL COSTS! ####

Film4 @ 2325      Van Helsing (2004) * AVOID AT ALL COSTS!

It’s a mystery how Jackman and Beckinsale were duped into making a diabolically bad film that not even Bekinsale’s under bust corset could redeem. Terrible CGI, bad hats, bad hair, bad script, bad full stop. Criminally handled, ham-fistedly delivered to soil our screens with yet another simply shite monster movie. AVOID.

SATURDAY 8th APRIL

HOT PICKS!

5* @ 1220      Labyrinth (1986) ****

You remind me of the babe What babe? babe with the power What power? power of voodoo Who do? you do Do what? remind me of the babe…

Check out the Honest Trailer for Labyrinth: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BjobWguWIRk

C4 @ 2235      Dredd (2012) ****

In a dark and dysfunctional future crime is at an all-time high and policed by Judges - these are judge, jury and executioner - dealing out swift and brutal justice to those flouting the law. Karl Urban plays our downturned mouthed hero - Judge Dredd - a seemingly heartless, brutal and ruthless Judge but one of the very best in the business. This is a great adaption of the comic series and with a great sense of pace, amazing visuals - namely the slow motion ultra-violent sprays of blood - and booming soundtrack this is an action movie to remember. Need a dose of Action in your weekend? Make way for Judge Dredd.

Film4 @ 2315     An American Werewolf in London (1981) *****

It’s only in recent years that I saw this film for the first time and I was concerned that I had missed the boat and it would be horrendously outdated, but I was pleasantly surprised. It barely shows its age at all!

The story begins with two American back packers on the remote moors of England that lose their way as they turn to a local village for help they find a rather unaccommodating group of villagers and they soon realize they are well and truly on their own. As they cross the moors they are attacked by a huge wolf like creature! The villagers appear to be covering up the true horrors of their encounter.

It has a real interesting mix of horror and comedy that is really quite subtle. The lighter moments offset the horror in a real complimentary way and the 80’s “moon” related soundtrack seemed rather odd to start with but adds yet another layer to the overall experience. Unlike today’s heavy reliance on CGI, director John Landis had to rely on physical effects and make up when putting together the transformation scene. It is an absolutely amazing job - every elongation of limbs and warping of body parts is done with amazing skill that looks very realistic and quite horrifying even to today’s standards.

Overall, the film is based on a very simple idea but is executed in a very accomplished way. If you haven’t seen this film, push it to the top of your to do list.

Best of the rest:

ITV3 @ 0930 The Railway Children (1970) ****

Film4 @ 1300 Ferris Bueller's Day Off (1986) *****

ITV4 @ 1455 The Alamo (1960) ****

Syfy @ 2100 The Mist (2007) ****

TCM @ 2100 Fatal Attraction (1987) ****

Comedy @ 2300 Pineapple Express (2008) *****

#### AVOID AT ALL COSTS! ####

C4 @ 2000   Battleship (2012) * AVOID AT ALL COSTS!

Rhianna is on a ship. Acting badly, Aliens are coming - Fight. The end. Battleship is a shoddy CGI laden mess. Awful characters, badly acted, with dreary and mostly boring action sequences. What annoys me the most is it’s not even tongue in cheek - it’s all played out rather seriously. This film deserves nothing. Such a big budget wasted on something quite unwatchable. I hope all involved wept as they called "that's a wrap". Battleshit.

SUNDAY 9th APRIL

HOT PICKS!

ITV4 @ 2100     The Deer Hunter (1978) *****

Good grief. It’s an experience watching The Deer Hunter. It’s so real, heart wrenching stuff. Beautifully handled and presented. It is well deserving of its critique as one of the greatest films ever made.

C4 @ 0005     The Guard (2011) ****

Don Cheadle and Brendan Gleeson play the most unlikely of Buddy Cops in this great black comedy, full of laughs with a lot of heart this film is a must see. Gleeson and Cheadle are a great pairing - when on screen together the comedy script and expert timing from Gleeson combine for a laugh a minute ride.

Gleeson is an Irish Garda from a small town who does things his way and is not afraid to speak his mind. In fact he enjoys it. Cheadle is a straight laced FBI agent who is in for a bit of a shock at how differently things work in this small town. They join forces to investigate an International drug smuggling ring and as the case progresses our two leads relationship grows.

Directed by John Michael McDonagh - it is very evident they are a very skilled family in the field of film. His brother, Martin, we have to thank for the excellent In Bruges, and with this film also being a Black Comedy, also starring Brendan Gleeson, it was always bound to be compared. One thing is for certain, they are both very funny, re-watchable and thoroughly interesting comedies with a fresh feel that I for one have really welcomed.

So, if you like your comedy on the dark side of life this will be right up your street. It’s not just all comedy, it’s a great crime drama and technically impressive, it looks fabulous with some great cinematography. Gleeson is the star but kudos to a great supporting cast. The Guard rockets along keeping you interested every step of the way. John Michael McDonagh has proven himself as one to watch!

If you like his style then look out for his newest 2014 film Calvary. It’s a much darker ride and quite a sombre affair - but very impressive indeed - proving McDonagh’s credentials.

Syfy @ 0100      The Omen (1976) *****

The original Omen film is by far the best of the Omen films and quite underrated. Regardless of its age it still fills me with dread with its combination of iconic creepy music and the mysterious dead eyes of Damien. Its success lies in the unseen and the implied, a trait that horror movies of today seem to have forgotten with all the unnecessary gratuitous violence and gore that fill the majority of recent horror offerings.

The story follows a wealthy couple that have struggled for many years to have a child and after a successful pregnancy term they are faced with the stillbirth of their son. Robert Thorn fears for his wife’s sanity and he agrees, unbeknownst to his wife, to take a new-born child whose mother died in childbirth and pretend it is their own. As time goes by a host of mysterious accidents plague the family.

Gregory Peck, who has a lot to thank for the success of this film, plays Robert Thorn. He brought the film into mainstream audiences on its release due to his success and fame. That’s not to say his performance here is anything but great either. He drives the film forward and is a great choice for the main character. We follow Thorn as he begins to realise the terrifying truth about his “acquired” son.

The Omen is a fantastic supernatural thriller with some great scenes that horror movies of today can only hope of achieving.

Best of the rest:

ITV3 @ 0625     The Railway Children (1970) ****

ITV1 @ 1345     Goldfinger (1964) ****

E4 @ 1430        Evolution (2001) ***

ITV4 @ 1440     The Alamo (1960) ****

ITV2 @ 1550     Liar Liar (1997) ***

ITV2 @ 1550     The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (2001) *****

C4 @ 1645        Boxtrolls (2014) ****

ITV3 @ 2305     Elizabeth: The Golden Age (2007) ****

Film4 @ 2310    Extract (2009) ***

[cuddlyreader]

In January 2007 Ian 'H' Watkins entered the UK Celebrity Big Brother House. On the same day an interview was published in a national newspaper where he confirmed he was gay. As one fifth of one of the biggest pop groups of the 90s, Ian had been used to living in the public eye and had been aware of the speculation surrounding his sexuality for years. So what prevented him from coming out and saying those words publicly for so long? Ian hasn't spoken in detail about his coming out experience publicly, until now.

Ian grew up in the 1980s in Cwmparc, a small mining community, where those traditional gender roles were seemingly magnified.  "My only points of reference for gay men were John Inman and Larry Grayson on the television. There were no openly gay people that I knew of in my town. It's a bit of a cliche, but I was seemingly the only gay in the village." During his primary school years Ian knew he was 'different' from the other boy's in some way. Ian recalls an incident when he was around seven years old. "We were discussing the word cup and the different countries' flags. When I said I didn't like football my teacher called me a 'girly boy' which made me feel really exposed." While the other boys were off playing football he was shopping with his nan and would rather watch Wonder Woman.  "A lot of my friends growing up were girls. That made me an easy target. Obviously when you're nine or ten you don't really understand why that would bother other people, but it singled me out. I knew I liked boys at that age too. I loved watching the Karate Kid ! But while the other boys were perving over Elisabeth Shue I was dreaming of holding hands with Ralph Macchio on a beach at sunset ! With no one to talk to about these feelings I decided to run away with my dog Ben. We didn't go far but as I sat on top of that hill with him I talked to him, trying to work out what was different about me and why the other boys treated me differently. I remember crying and feeling completely lost." Ian laughs at the recollection of talking to his dog on a mountain in Wales but the reality is that many young gay people simply do not feel comfortable talking to anyone about aspects of their sexuality. For instance, Stonewall research* shows that 58 per cent  of young lesbian, gay and bisexual people who don't talk to anyone about being homophobically bullied say it's because they are too embarrassed. Clearly nowhere near the point of understanding what these feelings were and how he was different to the other boys in his school, Ian did the only thing he could - nothing. Things carried on as they were. "At 14 I knew I was gay. I don't really remember the exact moment that it all clicked, but I absolutely knew by then. Knowing helped me to protect myself. I remember we used to have a school disco every week and it was around the time when Sinitta was flying high. 'So Macho' was in the charts and the opening line was.  'I don't want no seven stone weakling, or a boy who thinks he's a girl'. Whenever that song came on loads of the other kids would point at me and laugh. It made me feel horrendous. Whenever I heard it I would run to the toilets and hide until it was over. I recently told Sinitta this story!" What started for Ian as finger-pointing and laughing soon escalated. Stonewall research shows that more than half (55 per cent) of young gay, lesbian and bisexual people experience homophobic bullying in Britain's schools and Ian found himself part of that majority.

With coming out not an option, Ian started channelling his energy into school, in particular Art. "I felt safe. The space was safe and I could express myself without fear of being judged, targeted or picked on.  I was in the company of girls, which I liked, and I was actually pretty good at it so it became an escape for me. My Art class was the complete opposite to the Boys' Club that I was taken to where the only activities on offer were things like darts and football - not really my thing at all! Apart from my Art where I was doing really well, my school work started to really suffer. The other classes didn't offer the same safe space. I was bullied and called names so I couldn't really focus. Instead I threw all of my energy into extra curricular activities like drama group and singing and dancing." Ian was successful in gaining a place at Art College but he decided to give up his place and become a Red Coat at Butlins in Barry Island, South Wales.  "It was a new start for me. I knew I'd be meeting strangers who did not know me. I thought I would be able to start again and be myself. From my experiences at school I knew that I was able to flourish when I was left alone. Although I never came out during my time working there I did become more comfortable in my own skin. I became louder and was more comfortable using humour to engage with people." 

Despite meeting a gay couple for the first time (who were accepted and happy), becoming more comfortable in his own skin and accepting his sexuality, Ian did not tell anyone he was gay until he was 19 and working as a hotel singer in Greece. "I met a girl and she liked me; she really liked me! It was difficult for me because it was obvious that she was interested and of course the feelings were not mutual. She guessed that I was gay and one night, after quite a few drinks she asked me. We had been drinking for a good few hours and both of us were sloshed. We were sat on the sun loungers and she just came out and asked me. The opportunity was there and it seemed harder to lie than to be honest so I said yes. I came out to her. Then I cried. It was too much for me and although part of me was relieved that I'd told someone, I felt that I was pressured into doing so. I didn't want to lie and because of that I felt that I had little choice but to say yes. It was not the experience I needed, although her reaction was overwhelmingly positive. " Although Ian had already started his coming out journey by telling someone, he felt that he had in some way been pressured into coming out. Feeling mortified that he had been forced to tackle something that he wasn't ready to, he still didn't feel ready to accept that he was gay. He returned to the UK where he auditioned to be in a pop group called Steps which would go on to become one of the 90s biggest selling pop acts. "I was 20 when I auditioned for Steps in 1996 and I couldn't have prepared myself for what being in the band would bring. We were on the cover of magazines, we toured with Britney Spears and had 14 top 10 singles in the UK! It was a great time. When I auditioned and got in the band I didn't really think about the gay thing to be honest." Ian split his time between London and South Wales while he was auditioning and performing at showcases with Lisa. It was during their time in London that Ian and Lisa would go out on the gay scene. "It was my first time in London so it was my first time where I guess  I could be myself or be who I was without anyone from my local village knowing the truth. So Lisa and I used to go clubbing to places like G.A.Y. and have a really fun time. I don't actually remember sitting down and telling Lisa, it was just something that I didn't feel I had to say out loud. We just had a cracking time going out dancing and clubbing and it was just something that was unsaid but know. I vaguely remember us talking about people we fancied but it wasn't like, 'by the way, I'm gay'. We have an amazing connection Lisa and I and I guess that reflects that." Having Lisa by his side during the Steps journey proved helpful on many occasions when the band would do press and media. "When we did interviews with magazines like Smash Hits and TV Hits I would always get asked questions about girlfriends and who I fancied. That was when Lisa would dive in and have my back. She would chip in and take the attention away from me." Thinking back to the press attention that Steps would get, Ian remembers the time when the band toured with Britney Spears. Not being the best of travellers, Ian often used to hitch a ride with Britney in her private tour jet which prompted some people to speculate about the nature of their relationship. "We spent a lot of time together and we did bond but obviously nothing happened! She was seeing Justin at the time anyway!" It was while under the influence of a couple of alcoholic beverages that Ian took the next step of telling two more of his band mates that he was gay. Steps were in Belgium at the time and Ian, Claire and Faye were on a night out. "The girls were great. Claire was a little taken back as she thought I fancied her! Ha! Faye loved partying on the gay scene so this just meant more fabulousness in her life!" Ian says that it was a very positive experience. "I didn't tell Lee for a while because I was apprehensive. He was the polar opposite to me. I wasn't a football loving, macho bloke. I felt like a phoney. I remember I was in a hotel in Claire and Faye's room. I was crying talking about how to tell Lee and he knocked at the door and came in."

Coming out to Lee brought the pair even closer together. Ian explains, "I didn't have to pretend to be someone I wasn't any more so obviously our relationship got even stronger. We shared hotel rooms back then and I would joke and say things like, 'Do you want me to wash your back?' when he was in the shower! We had a right laugh!" Ian was now out to all of his band mates and felt that a certain pressure had been lifted. However, still not publicly out he often encountered situations when he felt extremely uncomfortable when the subject of his sexuality was raised. "I remember one occasion we were in the bar after recording a television show. We were standing around chatting with a few other guests about some of the dancers and a couple of the girls were talking about who they fancied. Boy George was standing with us and he said to me, 'You like him as well don't you? You like boys.' I was mortified. I felt like I was back at school again being bullied. I had to leave and I just went home." Another incident where Ian was put on the spot was during a recording of the The Jo Wiley TV Show. Ian was due to appear on the show with another guest Mary J Blige. George Michael had just recorded a duet with Mary and by coincidence he had appeared in the news earlier that day. Ian and his team knew that the subject of George Michael's sexuality would come up in the show and so they spoke to the producers to make sure Ian wouldn't be asked any questions about his own sexuality. They assured them that they would't ask anything inappropriate but when it came to recording, things changed. 

 "They were talking about people being gay in the media and asking us how we think people manage to stay in the closet. It made me feel really uncomfortable because I just wasn't ready to talk about that. I came off set and went to my dressing room and cried. Although I didn't know her at all, Mary J Blige could see what was happening and she gave me a big hug and said, 'I know, I know'. She realised what they were trying to do and understood how it made me feel." So anxious of being exposed in media interviews, Ian once faked being ill so he didn't have to join the rest of the group in an interview with Gay Times. "I felt massive pressure to keep my sexuality a secret but I was not alone. I had a brief relationship with a member of a boyband, but we were careful and the media never found out. During my time in Steps I had dates with other singers, and actors, and some still haven't come out to this day. It's amazing that they have kept their sexuality secret all this time." A theme that runs through Ian's story is that of him feeling pressured at various points, and by various people, to talk about or even just acknowledge his sexuality before he was ready to. In 1999, while on holiday in Portugal, Ian received a phone call saying that a UK newspaper was going to run a story saying that he was gay. "I had to fly home in the middle of my holiday and go back to my home town in South Wales and tell my parents that I was gay. I didn't want them to find out by reading the newspaper. I felt that the rug had been completely pulled out from under me. Again, I had been put under pressure when I wasn't ready. Despite the nature of me coming out to my parents, the reaction was great."   Due to other news breaking that weekend, the newspaper actually decided not to run the story but he lived in fear every weekend knowing that the story was ready to run. Having come out to his parents (and later to his two brothers Jamie and Alyn) Ian spent the next few years working in musicals and shows, keeping out of the public eye. He worked hard to establish himself as a performer  and when an opportunity came up in 2007 to show the public who the real Ian was, he grasped it with both hands. In January 2007 Ian entered the UK Celebrity Big Brother house to rapturous applause. Earlier that day The Sun newspaper published Ian's coming out interview, at his request. "For the first time I was able to take control of my coming out. I knew that everyone assumed I was gay at this point but it was up to me and no one else to confirm it. That's why I did the interview. I'd spent years feeling pressured into talking about that aspect of who I was, being put on the spot and made to feel uncomfortable and even upset at times. Now, for the first time I was the person in charge and it felt great! Davina acknowledged my coming out before I went in to the house and the reaction from the audience was so warm and supportive. In the house I just felt like me, I was very comfortable in there. It was a huge year in Celebrity Big Brother with the media storm surrounding Shilpa and Jade, so I didn't really have much time to think about what I'd done by coming out publicly. When I left the house, after finishing in forth place, I was greeted by cheers which was great. Davina grabbed my shaking hand and as she led my to the photographers she whispered to me that I was the first person to be cheered and to enjoy it. It felt like my own coming out party!"

Ian looks back on his coming out journey and with mixed emotions, but appreciates how he's changed from that young boy who ran away with his dog for a few hours because he didn't know how to deal with feeling different. In 2011 Steps made a successful comeback on the back of a television show following the band regrouping. There was a tour to accompany a new album. Steps were back and as popular as ever but Ian realised that despite being out and happy, there would still be challenges that he'd have to face. "During one of our dance routines on the reunion tour we were each paired up with a dancer. I was initially paired with a female dancer. It felt wrong that I shouldn't be dancing with another man. To my surprise there was strong resistance from people very close to the group when I mentioned that I wanted a male dance partner. I stood my ground and sure enough I got to dance with a man, my friend Kevin actually. The reception by the audience was amazingly positive, and why shouldn't it have been? It was no big deal." Despite huge leaps in LGBT equality, including many legal wins for lesbian, gay, bisexual and trans people, Ian still encounters prejudice in the media. Recently he took part in a TV show. "I asked if I could be partnered with a male performer. The answer was, ' Erm, that's not really right for this channel'." So what's next for Ian? "Steps are fast approaching our 20th (yes 20th!!) anniversary! Ever since I heard that fiddle playing in '5678' I have not stopped performing. We have travelled the world, had No.1 albums and singles, sold over 20 million records, had sell out arena tours and I fulfilled my dreams of being in West End Musicals. Recently I wanted to take time out. For as long as I can remember I have said, 'I'm going to start to paint again'. Well, last year I did and I am loving it. I actually went to Art College 20 years ago but my life obviously took a turn in a completely different direction. I've just had my first sell out exhibition at Ffin Y Parc Gallery  with two more exhibitions planned this year. All that time hiding in the Art room from the bullies paid off! It meant I was in a safe place and also being creative. I hate that I had to go through all the taunting and abuse at school but it's made me who I am today, and it seems I had the last laugh! "I'll also be joining Stonewall's School Role Models Programme this year. The charity take LGBT people in to schools to talk about their experiences growing up, coming out and how they dealt with any challenges they faced regarding their sexuality. Homophobic, biphobc and transphobic bullying is still common in schools and I'm really looking forward to doing my bit to try and tackle it."

[vileart]

Behind the Dramaturgy: Go Theatre @ Edfringe 2017

GO Theatre Company - supported by Ministry of Culture, Sports, and Tourism of Korea

Behind the Mirror

UK Premiere 

Hugely successful a cappella musical representing Korea at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe grew from humble origins as a drama school project to an international hit 

C Venues (+1), 2 – 28 Aug 2017 (not 14), 15.55

Performed without set, lighting changes or sound design, GO Theatre Company’s award-winning a cappella musical is created entirely by its performers, who perform impressive acrobatic feats while simultaneously singing.  Performed in Korean with English subtitles, Behind the Mirror tells the story of Yeoni, a princess’ maid, who steals her mistress’ belongings (including a prized mirror) and runs away to a cave the forest, developing a rich fantasy existence with Yaseng, a boy who has grown up in the forest.  Yeoni happily pretends that she is the princess and teaches Yaseng to live like a normal human-being, but when she is discovered by spies seeking her and the stolen mirror her fantasy and her crime begin to unravel.

1. What was the inspiration for this performance?

It all started from the school workshop. Our professor gave us the assignment to express sounds in nature with human voices. I thought it would be more fun to combine the sound with the movement along with a little story, and I did it.

I saw the potential of this musical when I saw my professor’s astonished and excited face.

2. Is performance still a good space for the public discussion of ideas?

I think it is more relevant these days as it has a message that tells you to find “true yourself” rather than imitating someone else. Many people these days try to become someone else forgetting who they really are as the media has been developed significantly giving us so many stories about cool others.

I guess it is the period that we all need more support for true ourselves.

3. How did you become interested in making performance?

I worked on this performance for the graduation project with my friends who studied the human body movements together. As it is made with actors’ voice and movements, it was easy to deliver no matter where we go. We decided to visit places where people don’t usually have opportunities to experience shows like this. As it started to get good reviews, we made it as a long-term project.

4. Is there any particular approach to the making of the show?

One very important thing only,

“No matter what, actors’ voices and movements ONLY!”

5. Does the show fit with your usual productions?

Every time we make shows, we use different materials, stories and ideas. Every show is different in our company. This show has its own uniqueness and values.

6. What do you hope that the audience will experience?

I hope the audience would think that every one of our life is all invaluable and it is not comparable to any others.

Furthermore, I hope that people would feel the fundamental value and necessity of the actor’s voice and movement in theatre via this particular format of the show.

7. What strategies did you consider towards shaping this audience experience?

All the places that the actors see,

All the sounds that the actors hear,

All the songs that the actors sing,

Everything will be created by the performers’ bodies and voices.

This genuine and honest way to perform was our first strategy, and will not be changed after all.

The show started as a school project by at the Korean National University of the Arts, and went on to tour nationally and internationally; it will be presented in the UK for the first time at this year’s Edinburgh Festival Fringe.

With bodies arching, curling and stacked in pyramids to create impressive visual images – all while the entire company sing, scat and create delicate soundscapes – Behind the Mirror make a beautiful immersive story for people of all ages, inspired by the traditional Korean tale of the princess PyeongGang who turns an ordinary man into a general.  After successful runs in Daehakro (Korea’s West End), Behind the Mirror was selected as the closing act for the 2005 Busan International Play Festival, and toured Korea winning The Young Director’s Award, Best Director Award and Best Actress Award at the Milyang Summer Performing Arts Festival.  In 2006 the show sold out its run at the Arko Theatre in Seoul, then had its first international tour in Yienbien, China as a part of an international cultural programme hosted by the ministry of Culture & Tourism followed by a successful US debut in LA and New York in 2008.  With an average age of 29, most of the company graduated from the prestigious Korean National University of the Arts. Behind the Mirror started off as a school project at KNUA with a production budget of £750, but has now toured Korea extensively, beginning in small rural areas and finally reaching a national and international standing.  GO Theatre Company’s Behind The Mirror is part of a showcase of Korean shows at the 70th Edinburgh Festival Fringe, supported by Ministry of Culture, Sports, and Tourism of Korea - consisting of MEDEA on media, Behind the Mirror, TAGO: Korean DrumⅡ, Mind Goblin and SNAP.  GO Theatre Company was named after the young company’s desire to ‘go’ to where their work is needed, rather than sitting and waiting for an audience to come to them.  Since its first performance in Seoul in 2004, the company has reached out many culturally alienated rural villages and towns in Korea bringing diverse cultural experiences to the region. GO is currently performing a number of new experimental productions in Seoul including the play Judo Boy and New generation’s 100 minute discussion. Suitable for all ages Company Information Basis / Directed by Joonho Min Written by Enui Choi Composed by Sunrak Noh Produced by Insuk Jung & Hyukwon An Line-produced by Ginny Kim Cast Yeoni Yoojung Kim Yaseng (Wild Boy) Hyunjin Ma Sara/Pyeong-gang Ji-Hae Rhee Lai / Ondal Inyoung Kang Soldier 1 Ji Hee Hong Soldier 2 Kyungwon Yang Storyteller Yewha Seo Jin/Percussion Wonseok Cho Listings information C Venues (+1), Adam House, Chambers Street EH1 1HR (Venue 34) 2 – 28 Aug (not 14), 3.55pm – 5pm, Previews 2-4 Aug Previews 2 - 4 Aug: £10.50 (£8.50 concs, £6.50 under 18s) 5-8, 12-13, 19-20, 26-28 Aug: £12.50 (£10.50 concs, £8.50 under 18s, 2for1 available 7-8 Aug) 9-11,16-18, 23-25 Aug: £11.50 (£9.50 concs, £7.50 under 18s) 15, 21-22 Aug: £10.50 (£8.50 concs, £6.50 under 18s) http://ift.tt/2rz1FC2 | 0845 260 1234 Supported by Ministry of Culture, Sports, and Tourism of Korea. from the vileblog http://ift.tt/2swYgB4

[nyc8539266]

Mr.G's Round Hill Lodge 1974

11:30pm: Sunday, 20 January 1974

How the reminders of passing years continue to haunt those of us still possessing a beating heart and a  functioning memory.

43 years ago today, in the dead of a Winter night, what truly was “an era”, a time of joy for a great many, disappeared in a golden-red glow against a deep indigo-grey sky. Today, I don't suppose there really would have been any “hope” for the old place, considering its age at the time already. And yes, I do suppose that it rather did call out for some repairs and the likes. But one thing that sticks in my own aging mind is the report that, as it burned, back up there on the hill, the “kind” folks of Washingtonville, NY gathered together, in spite of the dark and cold, massed  together at the dirt-road entrance to the grounds, and blocked the fire responders from getting there in time to save even a bit of the old place. “Kind”... The people of a quiet, bucolic, gentle little Orange county NY, rural village.

To them, it made no difference whether or not anybody was in the building. To them, it wasn't important that somebody's financial investment, never mind, emotional investment, was being destroyed. To the kind and gentle, happy little folk of Washingtonville, the moments of happiness the place provided for others was insignificant. Never mind the refuge, sanctuary and safety it, the place, and its owner gave to so very many who truly needed such a place, back then. There was food in the kitchen, drinks at the bar, music on the juke box and acres of “secrets”, of romance, hardships, some drama, and a lot of true, real and honest “love”.

The food was turned to ash, the drinks, to empty, broken, charred glass. And as the glowing orange sparks danced into the darkness of the night, the juke box and its music went silent, lights went out, the 45's melted and cremated. The grand old front porch crumbled and lay in a bed of glowing embers and cinders. And souls of the living, rose into the Heavens, there, and around the Earth.

We became “Mr. G's Roundhill Lodge in exile”... in an eternal diaspora.

Out-side the village, off the double-lane paved highway, at the end of an old dirt road that wound its way through the wood-land, over a little brook, away from the world, it stood in rustic, old elegance and glory. Settled on a little hill-top, surrounded by the local old and worn mountains, divinely bucolic by day and vibrant with life and living by night, Mr. G's welcomed us all, all of us who came to it as pilgrims travel long and far to a remote place on Earth, to purge torn and weary souls, and bask in a divinity of kindred spirits, to commune with one-another and with one's self. We were “welcome” and “welcomed” there, for who we honestly were and who we dreamed we could or might be.

As it lived, and we lived, the main house, the stone house, the bungalows, the ever-cold, spring-fed swimming pool at the end of the wood-land path, the buildings and the very earth it all rested upon pulsed with solid heart-beats, embraced by anticipation, joys and even sorrows of Life itself. When the music from with-in the main house went still, the rhythms, beats, melodies and lyrics continued, in the breezes that blew across the tall grasses and through the old trees. Songs that made the spirit dance and those that comforted the weary souls. Comfort, and even in the heaviest of times, the consolation of others, all together with one simple, basic purpose: a unity that spanned the entire universe, to support one another, when-ever and how-ever was necessary and possible. In sickness, good health, rejoicing and mourning, in times of concurrence and times of disagreement, the commonality of one and all, drinking, dancing, sharing meals and time created more of a “family” amongst familiar faces and strangers than many, if not most, had, even in their own houses and homes. It was a place of shelter, of togetherness. It was a place of protection, from the elements of living, from the elements of existence, from the elements of Life. It was a place of nourishment of body, mind and soul, and it was a place of rejuvenation, often at the end of a week of anxiety, uncertainty, and shrouds of oppression and pretense. There was an un-seen and un-seeable energy in and of the place that penetrated deep into the core of being that lent assurance and the ability, the right, to “be”, to breathe free and freely. If ever a place could be truly called “Home”... this was it.

In the buildings and all around the grounds, we, who gathered, were allowed to shed inhibitions, to open hearts and minds. We were as diverse as the global population itself, a microcosm of all of Creation. We were proud and humble, rich and poor, troubled and trouble-free. We were tall, short, Black, White, men, women, local and from a-far. We came from farms, cities large and small, towns, villages and solitary houses out in the most rural of landscapes. We were different, similar and same all at once. We fell into and out of like, lust and LOVE! And together we celebrated the joys and mourned the sorrows as we all healed... one-anther, each-other, together.

And.. we danced! And HOW we danced! With steps that had names and others that were more improv expressions of mind, body, soul, spirit! We... DANCED! Some danced in celebration, of something, anything, nothing and everything. Others danced with memories of people, places, events. There were those who danced in joy, and those who danced in sadness. Finger-popping, bangle jangling, singing, whistling, or simply caught up in the rapture of song. “1.2.3.4.5.6.7.8” “You better think... Think bout It” and remember that “Everybody Plays the Fool... sometimes”. So you just “Get On The Good Foot”, because “I'll Be Around”, “You're The First, The Last, My Everything”. We've all got a “Mighty Love”, a “One Of A Kind Love Affair”. And if you find that “Smiling Faces Sometimes... pretend to be your friend” and the world can have more than a fair share of “Back Stabbers”, and you ask yourself “Where Is The Love?” it's all really quite clear and simple: It's “Too Late To Turn Back Now”, because “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” I said  “If Loving You Is Wrong, I Don't Wanna Be Right”. So “Let's Stay Together” because “I Wanna Be Were You Are”, we'll start a “Love Train” and “Until You Come Back To Me”... “I'm Still In Love With You”. That's the “Law Of The Land”.

Directly or indirectly, consciously and unconsciously, we believed, thought, hoped and probably prayed that G's would never end, would be there for us through all the years that lay ahead of us. For some, the years were many, and for some the years numbered shorter. But even facing realities, kind and harsh, some little place in our hearts held some crazy little belief that the music might change, the faces and names might change, the buildings and such might change... but they'd change... and always be where they were, on those nights when we arrived, on those mornings when we left and that they'd stay, right there, on Roundhill, waiting for us to return.

I'd moved away from the area during  the latter part of 1973, off to new adventures, and, as my dearest mother succinctly pointed out, “100,2 miles from door to door”. But on that Saturday, the 26th of January, 1974, I'd returned for a visit. The details of the travel are gone to the deep recesses of my aged and aging mind, but there is one memory that remains clear, and one wound that remains open and sore even today, 43 years later:

It had been a usual January sort of day, weather-wise, with normal Winter weather in the Hudson Valley, a bit on the grey and drizzly side. That night was cooler and rainy. (Yes, I DO remember.)

That evening I was looking very much forward to having dinner with my Mum, then relaxing for a bit and then... as was almost common-place and routine when I lived at home, heading out and onto the roads to Mr. G's for a Saturday night with friends. I hadn't been in quite the while and the matter, as usual, hadn't been discussed at all previously. So I went about the business of having a shower and changing my clothes. As I got back into the kitchen, almost ready to head out, and by this point it was well passed 9:00pm, my Mother, standing at the kitchen sink asked, “Where are you going?”

A bit taken by surprise by her enquiry, believing and taking for granted that she knew where I'd spent so many Saturday nights before and that tonight, she'd know where I was heading, I simply, respectfully replied, “To G's of course.”

“No you're not.” she said, calmly and not at all confrontationally. “And why not?” I asked. With-out a spoken word, she walked into the living-room and returned with the local news-paper which she placed onto the kitchen table, front page face up. I recall, so vividly, glancing at the page, seeing a black and white photo of firemen standing in front of a smouldering building which meant nothing to me at the moment. My Mother turned away and went back to her chores at the sink as I looked closer... at the caption under the photo, centre-page. It read: “BUILDING BURNS - A large structure at Mister G's, Round Hill Resort on Rt. 208, Washingtonville, was destroyed by fire Sunday night. Here firemen douse smouldering embers. Story Page 5A”

In the same state of non-belief that one might experience upon receiving news of the death of a loved one, I turned to page 5A as calmly as I possibly could. On page 5A was a brief account of some minor injuries of attending fire-men and the passing mention that the fire department in Washingtonville, along with those of several surrounding towns, took 12 hours to extinguish the blaze.

All through that week she'd known. But she didn't have it in her heart to tell me. She said she didn't know how to tell me. Even as we'd chatted through the day, she'd known, but couldn't find it in her heart to say. For so long, she'd known what that place had been to me, what it meant to me, and, in many ways, how it saved my life, even to the few weeks before I'd left home and moved so far away. She knew, she understood and she anticipated the crushing devastation that the news would inflict. Even as she placed the paper on the table, words failed. Mothers know. Mine knew me. To be quite honest, I don't, to this day, remember what the rest of that cold, wet night brought. But in the days that followed, telephone calls confirmed the article. Nobody, it seemed, knew exactly what had caused the fire. There were rumours of arguments between George, the owner, and a guest who set the blaze in retaliation. There were rumours of disgruntled hired staff having set the fire in a fit of maddened revenge. But the one story that never made the news, but had been confirmed by eye witnesses that night was that yes, indeed, as the fire consumed the main house, set back off the main road, away from the nearest village of Washingtonville, the residents, never pleased about the Lodge's presence, turned-out, on that cold, Winter, January night, at 11:30pm, and with their vehicles and persons, created a barricade across the only entrance to the dirt road that led up to the place, detaining for as long as they possibly could, the responding fire companies, essentially prohibiting them from promptly attending the fire.

The years have passed, as years do, all 43 of them. And as I type this tonight, only a day from the 43rd anniversary of the event, as has been all through each and every day, month and year prior, I can still close my eyes, and in the darkness behind shuttered lids, in my mind, my heart and my soul I can travel back to the gravel parking area, in front of the old plantation-like main house. I can hear the juke box singing from inside the main door in the centre of the large front porch that spanned the entire length of the house, and with the same joyful anticipation I had back then, I climb the old wooden stairs, walk into the main foyer, see the people wandering about, talking, laughing, some holding a drink. I can still smell the various colognes and hear, over the music coming from the rear room to the right, conversations and laughter. The room, with it's black floor, small, round tables round the perimeter, juke box against the wall to the right as I enter, and people, dancing... And HOW they dance! Many of them are now “gone”. I always wonder how many are still around, still alive. I always wonder how many of them still remember. And I do suppose, I always will. I like to think of those who've “left” as having gone back to G's, some-where up in the vast and endless night skies, to where the music still plays, the vignettes of Life continue, and they all still dance... and HOW they dance!

And as for George, the owner of Mr. G's Round Hill Lodge? Well, I can't be certain where he is these days, other than one place where I can guarantee he remains and will be, safe, sound, respected and much Loved... and that's in my heart, where he'll stay until I too am blessed with the ability to return, to travel up that dark old dirt road, through the woods, over the brook, past the spring-fed chilly pool, to the gravel lot at the foot of the old wooden stairs where again, I'll climb up to the front door, and with the same joyful anticipation of then, walk through and in to that room in the back... AND HOW I'LL DANCE AGAIN!

Meanwhile, from the old juke box against the wall on the right, the music plays in distant but vivid memory:

Good morning heart-ache, here we go again. Good morning heart-ache, you're the one who knew me when...

We don't have tomorrow... but we had yesterday.

https://judahakessler.wordpress.com/blog/mr-gs-round-hill-lodge-1974/

[judahkessler]

Mr.G's Round Hill Lodge 1974

11:30pm: Sunday, 20 January 1974

How the reminders of passing years continue to haunt those of us still possessing a beating heart and a  functioning memory.

43 years ago today, in the dead of a Winter night, what truly was “an era”, a time of joy for a great many, disappeared in a golden-red glow against a deep indigo-grey sky. Today, I don't suppose there really would have been any “hope” for the old place, considering its age at the time already. And yes, I do suppose that it rather did call out for some repairs and the likes. But one thing that sticks in my own aging mind is the report that, as it burned, back up there on the hill, the “kind” folks of Washingtonville, NY gathered together, in spite of the dark and cold, massed  together at the dirt-road entrance to the grounds, and blocked the fire responders from getting there in time to save even a bit of the old place. “Kind”... The people of a quiet, bucolic, gentle little Orange county NY, rural village.

To them, it made no difference whether or not anybody was in the building. To them, it wasn't important that somebody's financial investment, never mind, emotional investment, was being destroyed. To the kind and gentle, happy little folk of Washingtonville, the moments of happiness the place provided for others was insignificant. Never mind the refuge, sanctuary and safety it, the place, and its owner gave to so very many who truly needed such a place, back then. There was food in the kitchen, drinks at the bar, music on the juke box and acres of “secrets”, of romance, hardships, some drama, and a lot of true, real and honest “love”.

The food was turned to ash, the drinks, to empty, broken, charred glass. And as the glowing orange sparks danced into the darkness of the night, the juke box and its music went silent, lights went out, the 45's melted and cremated. The grand old front porch crumbled and lay in a bed of glowing embers and cinders. And souls of the living, rose into the Heavens, there, and around the Earth.

We became “Mr. G's Roundhill Lodge in exile”... in an eternal diaspora.

Out-side the village, off the double-lane paved highway, at the end of an old dirt road that wound its way through the wood-land, over a little brook, away from the world, it stood in rustic, old elegance and glory. Settled on a little hill-top, surrounded by the local old and worn mountains, divinely bucolic by day and vibrant with life and living by night, Mr. G's welcomed us all, all of us who came to it as pilgrims travel long and far to a remote place on Earth, to purge torn and weary souls, and bask in a divinity of kindred spirits, to commune with one-another and with one's self. We were “welcome” and “welcomed” there, for who we honestly were and who we dreamed we could or might be.

As it lived, and we lived, the main house, the stone house, the bungalows, the ever-cold, spring-fed swimming pool at the end of the wood-land path, the buildings and the very earth it all rested upon pulsed with solid heart-beats, embraced by anticipation, joys and even sorrows of Life itself. When the music from with-in the main house went still, the rhythms, beats, melodies and lyrics continued, in the breezes that blew across the tall grasses and through the old trees. Songs that made the spirit dance and those that comforted the weary souls. Comfort, and even in the heaviest of times, the consolation of others, all together with one simple, basic purpose: a unity that spanned the entire universe, to support one another, when-ever and how-ever was necessary and possible. In sickness, good health, rejoicing and mourning, in times of concurrence and times of disagreement, the commonality of one and all, drinking, dancing, sharing meals and time created more of a “family” amongst familiar faces and strangers than many, if not most, had, even in their own houses and homes. It was a place of shelter, of togetherness. It was a place of protection, from the elements of living, from the elements of existence, from the elements of Life. It was a place of nourishment of body, mind and soul, and it was a place of rejuvenation, often at the end of a week of anxiety, uncertainty, and shrouds of oppression and pretense. There was an un-seen and un-seeable energy in and of the place that penetrated deep into the core of being that lent assurance and the ability, the right, to “be”, to breathe free and freely. If ever a place could be truly called “Home”... this was it.

In the buildings and all around the grounds, we, who gathered, were allowed to shed inhibitions, to open hearts and minds. We were as diverse as the global population itself, a microcosm of all of Creation. We were proud and humble, rich and poor, troubled and trouble-free. We were tall, short, Black, White, men, women, local and from a-far. We came from farms, cities large and small, towns, villages and solitary houses out in the most rural of landscapes. We were different, similar and same all at once. We fell into and out of like, lust and LOVE! And together we celebrated the joys and mourned the sorrows as we all healed... one-anther, each-other, together.

And.. we danced! And HOW we danced! With steps that had names and others that were more improv expressions of mind, body, soul, spirit! We... DANCED! Some danced in celebration, of something, anything, nothing and everything. Others danced with memories of people, places, events. There were those who danced in joy, and those who danced in sadness. Finger-popping, bangle jangling, singing, whistling, or simply caught up in the rapture of song. “1.2.3.4.5.6.7.8” “You better think... Think bout It” and remember that “Everybody Plays the Fool... sometimes”. So you just “Get On The Good Foot”, because “I'll Be Around”, “You're The First, The Last, My Everything”. We've all got a “Mighty Love”, a “One Of A Kind Love Affair”. And if you find that “Smiling Faces Sometimes... pretend to be your friend” and the world can have more than a fair share of “Back Stabbers”, and you ask yourself “Where Is The Love?” it's all really quite clear and simple: It's “Too Late To Turn Back Now”, because “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” I said  “If Loving You Is Wrong, I Don't Wanna Be Right”. So “Let's Stay Together” because “I Wanna Be Were You Are”, we'll start a “Love Train” and “Until You Come Back To Me”... “I'm Still In Love With You”. That's the “Law Of The Land”.

Directly or indirectly, consciously and unconsciously, we believed, thought, hoped and probably prayed that G's would never end, would be there for us through all the years that lay ahead of us. For some, the years were many, and for some the years numbered shorter. But even facing realities, kind and harsh, some little place in our hearts held some crazy little belief that the music might change, the faces and names might change, the buildings and such might change... but they'd change... and always be where they were, on those nights when we arrived, on those mornings when we left and that they'd stay, right there, on Roundhill, waiting for us to return.

I'd moved away from the area during  the latter part of 1973, off to new adventures, and, as my dearest mother succinctly pointed out, “100,2 miles from door to door”. But on that Saturday, the 26th of January, 1974, I'd returned for a visit. The details of the travel are gone to the deep recesses of my aged and aging mind, but there is one memory that remains clear, and one wound that remains open and sore even today, 43 years later:

It had been a usual January sort of day, weather-wise, with normal Winter weather in the Hudson Valley, a bit on the grey and drizzly side. That night was cooler and rainy. (Yes, I DO remember.)

That evening I was looking very much forward to having dinner with my Mum, then relaxing for a bit and then... as was almost common-place and routine when I lived at home, heading out and onto the roads to Mr. G's for a Saturday night with friends. I hadn't been in quite the while and the matter, as usual, hadn't been discussed at all previously. So I went about the business of having a shower and changing my clothes. As I got back into the kitchen, almost ready to head out, and by this point it was well passed 9:00pm, my Mother, standing at the kitchen sink asked, “Where are you going?”

A bit taken by surprise by her enquiry, believing and taking for granted that she knew where I'd spent so many Saturday nights before and that tonight, she'd know where I was heading, I simply, respectfully replied, “To G's of course.”

“No you're not.” she said, calmly and not at all confrontationally. “And why not?” I asked. With-out a spoken word, she walked into the living-room and returned with the local news-paper which she placed onto the kitchen table, front page face up. I recall, so vividly, glancing at the page, seeing a black and white photo of firemen standing in front of a smouldering building which meant nothing to me at the moment. My Mother turned away and went back to her chores at the sink as I looked closer... at the caption under the photo, centre-page. It read: “BUILDING BURNS - A large structure at Mister G's, Round Hill Resort on Rt. 208, Washingtonville, was destroyed by fire Sunday night. Here firemen douse smouldering embers. Story Page 5A”

In the same state of non-belief that one might experience upon receiving news of the death of a loved one, I turned to page 5A as calmly as I possibly could. On page 5A was a brief account of some minor injuries of attending fire-men and the passing mention that the fire department in Washingtonville, along with those of several surrounding towns, took 12 hours to extinguish the blaze.

All through that week she'd known. But she didn't have it in her heart to tell me. She said she didn't know how to tell me. Even as we'd chatted through the day, she'd known, but couldn't find it in her heart to say. For so long, she'd known what that place had been to me, what it meant to me, and, in many ways, how it saved my life, even to the few weeks before I'd left home and moved so far away. She knew, she understood and she anticipated the crushing devastation that the news would inflict. Even as she placed the paper on the table, words failed. Mothers know. Mine knew me. To be quite honest, I don't, to this day, remember what the rest of that cold, wet night brought. But in the days that followed, telephone calls confirmed the article. Nobody, it seemed, knew exactly what had caused the fire. There were rumours of arguments between George, the owner, and a guest who set the blaze in retaliation. There were rumours of disgruntled hired staff having set the fire in a fit of maddened revenge. But the one story that never made the news, but had been confirmed by eye witnesses that night was that yes, indeed, as the fire consumed the main house, set back off the main road, away from the nearest village of Washingtonville, the residents, never pleased about the Lodge's presence, turned-out, on that cold, Winter, January night, at 11:30pm, and with their vehicles and persons, created a barricade across the only entrance to the dirt road that led up to the place, detaining for as long as they possibly could, the responding fire companies, essentially prohibiting them from promptly attending the fire.

The years have passed, as years do, all 43 of them. And as I type this tonight, only a day from the 43rd anniversary of the event, as has been all through each and every day, month and year prior, I can still close my eyes, and in the darkness behind shuttered lids, in my mind, my heart and my soul I can travel back to the gravel parking area, in front of the old plantation-like main house. I can hear the juke box singing from inside the main door in the centre of the large front porch that spanned the entire length of the house, and with the same joyful anticipation I had back then, I climb the old wooden stairs, walk into the main foyer, see the people wandering about, talking, laughing, some holding a drink. I can still smell the various colognes and hear, over the music coming from the rear room to the right, conversations and laughter. The room, with it's black floor, small, round tables round the perimeter, juke box against the wall to the right as I enter, and people, dancing... And HOW they dance! Many of them are now “gone”. I always wonder how many are still around, still alive. I always wonder how many of them still remember. And I do suppose, I always will. I like to think of those who've “left” as having gone back to G's, some-where up in the vast and endless night skies, to where the music still plays, the vignettes of Life continue, and they all still dance... and HOW they dance!

And as for George, the owner of Mr. G's Round Hill Lodge? Well, I can't be certain where he is these days, other than one place where I can guarantee he remains and will be, safe, sound, respected and much Loved... and that's in my heart, where he'll stay until I too am blessed with the ability to return, to travel up that dark old dirt road, through the woods, over the brook, past the spring-fed chilly pool, to the gravel lot at the foot of the old wooden stairs where again, I'll climb up to the front door, and with the same joyful anticipation of then, walk through and in to that room in the back... AND HOW I'LL DANCE AGAIN!

Meanwhile, from the old juke box against the wall on the right, the music plays in distant but vivid memory:

Good morning heart-ache, here we go again. Good morning heart-ache, you're the one who knew me when...

We don't have tomorrow... but we had yesterday.

https://judahakessler.wordpress.com/blog/mr-gs-round-hill-lodge-1974/