#It's just that the moment any tale of any importance lasts longer than two paragraphs his brain turns to static and he's out like a light

[pianokantzart]

Man, Mario really is just kinda like that, huh?

[ffhseries]

Tales of Far From Home: Yggsmas in Killarney

da link

The park had been decorated for weeks now. Strings of lights wrapped around trees while shiny baubles hung on their branches. Festive wreaths and ribbons adorned the park benches and rubbish bins. Elaborate, massive strands of evergreen garland connected lampposts to each other. Green and gold, red and silver, the colors of the holiday season were everywhere.

And I absolutely hated it.

If you had asked me last year, hell just a few months ago, I would have felt differently. It used to be one of my favorite times but here and now…it felt like some gross farce. Like the universe was twisting the knife.

Because this wasn’t Christmas, and this wasn’t my home.

Don’t ask me how it happened. Don’t ask me why I’m here instead of Earth. Just know that this isn’t it. One moment I was storming out of my house after a fight with Ma. Thunder crashed just as I turned to answer her. The next moment, I was so dizzy I nearly passed out on the street. It took a few minutes for my head to clear and to get my bearings. Finding out the world had grown all around me nearly took my breath away.

Coming face to face with a dragon didn’t help matters.

It was the worst day of my life. Everything, and everyone, around me was absolutely gigantic. Oversized pigeons and sparrows were mingling with dragons -honest to God DRAGONS- while a gigantic woman fed them popcorn from her seat. The look she gave when she saw me among the flock would be seared into my memory forever. Like she had just seen some mangy rat pop out of the sewer and flip her off. It was the first disgusted look I’d earn in this world. It wouldn’t be the last. I had barely made it to the underside of a massive park bench before she threw more popcorn for the birds and creatures.

I’d been living in the park and underneath that very bench ever since.

The original plan was to couch surf on a mate’s couch until my temper cooled off. I had the row of a lifetime with Ma and I couldn’t be under the same roof with her. I had clothes packed for the week and my guitar. Busk on the corners for pocket change if I really needed it, maybe play a gig or two if the opportunity came up. I would’ve been home soon enough. Despite my anger at that moment, I loved Ma and needed to make it up to her somehow. After we had a long talk.

That was months ago. I miss her more and more each day.

All the festive decorations didn’t help.

Christmas was a time for cheesy songs, gorging on piles of food, and keeping good company. Ma would blast her favorite Christmas carol as she woke me up to open our presents. I took to making us breakfast in recent years. The day was spent happy and full and surrounded by friends and loved ones.

This “Yggsmas” was more like a prolonged parody of everything I missed.

One of the few good things about this world was staring into my eyes at that moment.

About a week after I arrived, I was given another surprise of my life. I had already become accustomed to the comings and goings of the Giantfolk, as much as I hated to admit it. At least enough to manage a nap after cramming fistfuls of a giant crisp. Not the healthiest of meals, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. It was a cool day and I was content to snuggle inside my jacket and rest for a bit.

“Um, hullo there. Gotta minute to talk, do ye?” a voice asked just as I got comfortable.

I could’ve sworn I was already dreaming. There were many things I expected when I turned my head to answer. More Giantfolk to play for, maybe. A dragon or pigeon looking to share the shade, sure.

But another human being? After days on my own in a giant world?

I almost kissed him right then and there.

He would have to settle for the tightest, longest hug I could’ve mustered instead.

“Heh. Guess ye havne seen another human in a while, huh?” he asked after a moment. He was just as quick to return the embrace, and I almost cried. I thought I was the only human here. I thought I was alone. I thought I’d never see anyone my size again. Never hear a familiar accent that didn’t come from someone who towered over me. “I get it, mate. It’s all right. I’m here. There are other humans here too.”

“Waseem. I’m Waseem McCarthy.” I offered eventually. “Most everyone just calls…called…me Waz.”

“Tylar Fitzgerald. Everyone just calls me Tylar.” he replied.

“Erm, and I’m Georgina Gaogao. Georgie, rather.” a different voice added after a polite cough. I shouldn’t have been surprised by the presence of a Giant nearby but I was still caught off-guard. I let go of Tylar when she offered an awkward wave. “H-hullo.”

I returned the wave and took a step back. There was something obviously up with these two and I wanted to make sure I wasn’t in swiping distance just in case. Tylar earned a side-eye from me as well.

“We just wanna talk to ye, really.” Tylar said, putting his hands up defensively. He took his own step back as well. “We heard ye were here an’ thought ye might need some questions answered, is all.”

“‘We’?” I asked.

“Hullo again!” the Giant named Georgie said, waving once more. Her eyes crinkled with the broad smile she offered. She made sure to slow her movements and kept her hands in plain sight. Her fingers were entwined before she laid them on her lap.

“We can leave if ye want. I just doona…” Tylar began, slowly taking something out of his back pocket. I half expected a knife. The best defense I had was to clonk him with my guitar before I dashed off. Wouldn’t know how far I’d get if Georgie gave chase. It came as almost a relief to see a pamphlet in his hand instead. “I doona wanna leave ye out here without knowin’ what’s what, mate.”

I carefully took the pamphlet and read the front.

WELCOME TO TERGAIA:

WHAT TO EXPECT AS A HUMAN

AND WHAT WE’RE DOING TO CHANGE THINGS

PRESENTED AND DISTRIBUTED BY SAIH

(THE SOCIETY FOR THE ACCEPTANCE AND INTEGRATION OF HUMANS)

“Ter…gaia? What’s ‘Tergaia’?” I asked.

“That’s where we are. This world is Tergaia.” Tylar answered. “Ye may wanna sit down fer this one, mate. It’s a lot to take in.”

He wasn’t wrong.

The pamphlet was brief but still managed to say almost too much. Humans from Earth “Crossed Over” to Tergaia by magical means. Magic. There was magic here. The Giantfolk weren’t just too damn big, they could cast spells too. Wasn’t that just grand? Humans had been popping up here, seemingly randomly, for over 500 years. We were considered similar, if not exactly like, their “dæmons”, ancient enemies to their pantheon. It explained why so many of the Giantfolk…the Tergaians…reacted like I was some roach crossing their path. Others considered us cute and even kept humans as pets. A shiver went down my spine at all of the cooing folks I’d encountered in the days before. Their gentle praises no longer felt awkward yet encouraging but nauseating now.

But worst of all was the news about a way back home.

There wasn’t one.

It took several tries of reading the same paragraph before it sunk in. Something about the veil between worlds protecting itself from humans breaking its magic. Whatever the exact reason, it meant one thing: the door was locked behind us with no key to be found.

I didn’t bother to read the rest of it. What good would it have done? I’d never see my home again.

I’d never see Ma again.

“I know it’s…upsettin’.”

“Why are you even here, bruv?” I asked, trying to hand him back the pamphlet. It looked worn and hand-printed. Almost like it was the only one he had. They had. Whichever.

“Because ye shoodne be out here by yerself an’ confused or scared or anythin’.” Tylar said, pushing the paper back to me. “Ye should know what life is like right now but more important what it CAN be like. We wanna help where-!”

“So, what, are you HER pet or something? Is she forcing you to do this?”

It would be the first time I’d see his frustration rise to the surface. Tight lips, a furrowed brow, and angry huff through his nose.

“No. I volunteered fer this. I wanted to help others like ye. Like us.” he stated. “Ye need time to process this. I get that. We can stay here if ye have questions or just…need someone to yell at.”

I stared at him, waiting for the perfect retort to come to mind. For something, anything, to be said.

Tylar made his way back to the Giant, to Georgie, before a word could escape my lips.

“Look, we can come back tomorrow, or inna few days, to check up on ye. Anything ye wanna ask, or scream, or whatever. In the meantime, will ye at least accept this from us?”

I watched as Georgie slowly extracted something from her pocket and held it out for Tylar to take. It was equal parts disturbing and fascinating to see Tylar effortlessly walk up to her hand and retrieve the item. It would turn out to be a worn but cared for backpack.

“It’s not much-!”

“For right now!” Georgie added quickly. “We’re still gathering donations.”

“But it should help.” Tylar continued. “It’s a pack, and set-up fer a lean-to, and a spare canteen fer water. There’s a box in there ye should get to when ye have the chance.”

Before I could say anything else, he was sitting in a Giant hand, waiting to be picked up. My stomach turned at the sight. I couldn’t imagine doing anything of the sort just then. Not after what I’d read.

I thought for sure I’d never see them again. See him again.

But they returned. The next day, and at least once a week afterwards.

It eventually became a routine to see Tylar at least once a day, if not have him spend the night. At first, it was just us discussing the world we were living in, and SAIH’s attempts at helping change the perspective. Over time it was more about the two of us than about the rest of the world.

Selfish, I know.

“I doona s’pose ye gave it any thought?” Tylar asked softly and cautiously. I loved the sound of his not-quite-right accent and the familiar lilt in his voice. It was more comforting than he knew.

“You need to narrow that down a bit, luv.” I replied, entwining my fingers with his. “There are a lot of things on my mind right now.”

“…Findin’ someplace safer to hunker down fer the winter.”

“Tylar.”

“I know, I know. Ye like yer set-up, ye like bein’ on yer own. But there’s s’posed to be a bad storm in the next few days. Ye know how much I worry about ye.”

“I love that you worry about me. But really, I’ll be fine. I’ve lasted this long out here, haven’t I?”

A giggle was held back as Tylar let out his frustrated huff. It was cute.

“Ye’ve been lucky. REAL lucky.” he admitted after a moment.

It was the understatement of the century.

My first day of being here made me realize just how tough finding food was going to be. The wildlife wasn’t just immense, but they had their own routines. They knew where to find their meals: waiting for those who threw popcorn and bread, scrounging in the bins during the quiet times, or simply hunting other animals in the park. I thought for sure the dragons or other carnivores would try to make a snack out of me. They seemed more interested in other prey or scraps than me, thankfully.

If it hadn’t been for my idle guitar playing and one of the Giantfolk liking my song, I wouldn’t have earned my first sausage roll. From then on, I played for food. Scraps to the Giantfolk were a few meals to me. Sharing what leftovers went bad or I simply couldn’t eat with the other animals seemed to help. They almost never bothered me otherwise.

Even the park employees didn’t bother me after a time. Most of them, again, thought I was something cute to gush over or be amazed at. The park director himself didn’t mind my being there. Not that he went out of his way to show it, but still. Only one of the park attendants seemed especially irked by my presence, and even he was made to stop. For the most part.

Especially after what would turn out to be the chance encounter of a lifetime.

The lady had popped out of the blue one day. I was still under my bench playing when she stumbled over. A bright jumper, a blue bag, messy hair. Didn’t seem out of the ordinary to me. Not that anything was, really, any more.

“Urrrrgh…I am REALLY starting to hate magic…” she grumbled as she laid herself on the ground in front of me. It took her a moment before she realized I was sitting there. “Oh. Hey man. Sorry about that. I uh…can explain. Kinda.”

“Guessing by your accent you’re not from around here, bruv?” I chuckled.

“Oh God no. Bridget Bradley, from New Jersey. USA. Earth.”

“Waseem McCarthy, Killarney, Ireland.”

It would end up being a short chat with me giving her directions towards “civilization” before I went back to my routine. A few hours later, one of the Giantfolk followed suit: popped in, stumbled, laid to rest on my bench. Gave me a shock when he knew an Earth song and repaired my guitar’s strings. Was glad for the food and the spare canteen he offered. Didn’t think much of it, really.

Until a few days later.

“HOW DO YE KNOW THE KING?!” Tylar and Georgie yelled from out of the blue. I nearly jumped 10 feet in the air from their sudden appearance. Georgie always made it a point to announce her presence before kneeling down to “my” level. Tylar was already hopping off her hand when my heart started beating again.

“…Who?” I asked as he ran over to me with a backpack. It was large, and brand new. Definitely a sight better than the one they gave me weeks before. “Nice. New donations, I take it?”

“Well, yes, SAIH received some as well but that one is specifically for you!” Georgie replied, pulling out a letter. She began to read before I could ask why. “‘Dear Miss Gaogao, I want to thank you again for taking the time to talk with me about the Society for the Acceptance and Integration of Humans the other day. You are a passionate and well-informed young woman and I hope to speak with you and your associates soon on the matter properly and more in-depth. My assistant, Miss Cassidy Gabon’ -that’s my cousin- ‘will work with you to schedule a meeting. In the meantime, please accept these donations for your organization as well as this check to help your efforts.’ -it was a TIDY sum, let’s just say- ‘I ask, if it is not too much trouble, to present the specially marked bag for someone I met in Killarney Park. His name is Waseem and he plays a guitar underneath one of the benches. He was a previous recipient of your generosity and mentioned your organization by name. I hope he is familiar enough to you that this will not be an unreasonable favor to ask. I had hoped to do it myself, but I fear royal duties must come first. Thank you once more and best of luck to you and yours, signed King Colm Matthew Alexander Brian Arcadi, FIRST KING OF FATHACH.’”

“I…what? I don’t know anybody named…” I began, claiming the letter attached to the new backpack. The envelope was addressed “To Waseem the Guitarist” in an unfamiliar script. The handwriting was quick but legible. My confusion cleared up the longer I read the note inside.

“Dear Waseem,

I hope this letter and bag of supplies finds you well. I wanted to thank you again for your assistance the other day in Killarney Park. Your song and your directions were a great help to me when we met. I hoped to return the favor once again. While the canteen and the sausage roll may have helped you at that moment, I felt that I needed to show my appreciation in a more sustainable way. Inside this bag you will find plenty of supplies to help you live just a bit more comfortably in this great big world of ours while I try my best to make it more hospitable for all of Fathach’s people, Tergaian and Human alike. There are notes on everything with an explanation for what they can do inside the bag. I would like to point out in particular: the enchanted tent, the barrier protection rope, a set of vaccines, a copy of the Faol Scouts Survival Guide, and most importantly, the Jumper Stone. If ever there is an emergency or you need a warm place to stay or you would like to drop by for a visit, you are more than welcome at Castle Arcadi. Simply squeeze the stone and it will Jump you directly here. I hope you will consider staying in touch using the ImmediaNote pad provided.

Thank you once more and best of luck,

King Colm Matthew Alexander Brian Arcadi

First King of Fathach”

There was a second note written at the end of the page from a different person’s hand.

“P.S. Consider all this stuff from me too, thanks again for everything! Signed, Bridget from NJ”

It took a few times rereading everything for it to sink in.

“…Holy Shit. I know the king.”

That one brief encounter left me with a much better set-up. The tent was warm, sturdy, and big enough to keep me and Tylar comfortable whenever he slept over. The barrier rope kept unwanted creatures at bay when set around the tent. It certainly helped when strangers or a surly park employee came by. There had been more inside the bag than I could’ve guessed, and it helped me feel more…well, not at home. And comfortable didn’t sound right either.

But it certainly didn’t hurt.

“I just doona like ye pushin’ yer luck, is all.” Tylar continued. “If somethin’ happened to ye out here, I…I’d never…”

“It won’t come to that, I promise.” I replied. “Besides, if I’m not here, who’ll make sure Robin gets fed?”

“Robin is a fox who can feed himself. Ye doona have to keep makin’ excuses fer stayin’ out here.”

“I’m not making excuses.”

“Arne ye? Why else woodne ye wanna be under a real roof fer a lil’ while?”

“Why won’t you tell me where you were born?”

It was a cheap shot. I knew it. He knew it. I hated saying it. He hated hearing it. But it was the only way I knew to change the subject. It wasn’t the first time I asked the question, but it was always something Tylar avoided answering. His accent, while familiar, always threw me off. I thought for certain he was Irish. But it also sounded too much like the “Fathish” accent the Giantfolk had. I don’t know why it was important to me.

I just knew I needed closure one way or the other.

“…Stop tryin’ to deflect, arsehole.” he countered instead.

“I’m just asking-!”

“Um, Tylar? Waz? Are you down there?” Georgie called out from outside the tent. “If you’re staying the night, I just need to know now. I don’t want to be stuck in the Yggsmas market crowds again.”

Tylar was up and getting his boots on in an instant.

“I’ll be right there, Georgie!” he yelled out as he buttoned his coat. Tylar tried to keep his voice steady as he continued talking. “Look, I like ye a lot, Waz. I do. An’ I doona wanna see ye out here alone again. But if yer gonna keep tryin’ to push me away, one of these days I may decide it’s not worth it to push back.”

“Tylar, wait, you don’t-!”

“I’ll see ye tomorrow, Waz. Maybe. Ye’ve got yer Jumpers if ye need them. Or at least head fer that temple up the road a few blocks. They’ve started letting humans in to hunker down too.”

He was out of the tent before I could stop him.

I did want to stop him.

Really I did.

But he didn’t understand.

I tried being around the Giantfolk. Truly I did. During my first weeks in the park, I’d wandered farther than usual. I ran into a pair of park attendants as they were leaving from their break room. One went back in to grab something “fer the lil’ fella tuh eat” while the other kept watch on me. He tried to make conversation. Condescendingly, and almost like I was some stray he was trying to keep calm rather than another person. I tried to say something. Even when he offered me the biggest chip butty with malt vinegar I’d ever seen in my life. I was tempted. But all kinds of thoughts came to mind as I stared at the plate of food. Was this a good faith offering? Was it a trap? Would he swat me to the ground before I stepped closer?

Robin saved me from making a decision.

The fox liked to follow me around on my walks. Knew I could be relied on for scraps if he needed them. He grabbed the sandwich and dashed off in the other direction. It diverted the Giants’ attention while I scarpered off into the dusk and shadows.

Even when I was invited to the Yggsmas market opening with Tylar, Georgie, and her cousin Cassidy, I tried. At the end of November, after their “Fall’s End Festival”, the public square was cleared and sectioned off. The market was set-up in the middle of the park, full to bursting with vendors of all sorts: seasonal food stalls, artisans, carolers, and more. The usual buskers moved there as well, hoping to earn some extra coin in the crowds. The smells and sights and sounds should have helped put me to ease. Despite the occasional stare. Sitting on Cassidy’s shoulder, any Giantfolk shoulder, was disorienting, but I’d managed. Even from up high, there was a lot to take in.

“I’m going to find the gaudiest, most ridiculous thing this market has to offer even if it kills me.” Georgie had stated when we passed under the elaborately decorated entrance.

“Georgie, Auntie Mo is not worth all this effort.” Cassidy sighed. She had visited with Georgie and Tylar a time or two, and seemed alright with my being on her shoulder. It took some getting used to on my end. Literally and metaphorically. The light freckles against her dark skin seemed to glow in the sunlight.

“Auntie Mo gave me a damn sock for Yggsmas last year because she thought I’d like the color scheme and tried to explain it away as a ‘heartfelt and handmade’ gift. She is getting the worst ‘Fuck You’ knick-knack I can find.”

“Georgie-!”

“Don’t tell me you don’t want to do the same. What’d she get you last year, paint thinner?”

“It was her home brewed perfume.”

“For Caduceus’ Sake, how can you NOT want to throw that back in her face somehow?”

“…Maybe I can find her a scented candle she’ll hate.”

“That’s the Yggsmas spirit!”

As we perused the booths, I did my best to enjoy myself. There were plenty of trinkets and art and toys to admire. Plushies ranged from teddy bears to dragons to unicorns. Porcelain dolls dressed in their Yggsmas best sat next to wooden lawn decorations. There were a few food stalls and drink cotes littered among the artisan vendors. From what I saw, it was almost like the Christmas markets from home.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it?

It wasn’t home.

And I didn’t want it to be.

I tried to be good company for their sake, but it wasn’t the same.

If I kept my distance, if I stayed an outsider…I would never have to get used to this place. Would never have to fully accept that this was my life now.

I could keep pretending there was a chance I’d see Ma again.

The best way to keep the bad thoughts at bay was just to play. Maybe I’d be able to earn some more “Yggsmas” treats before the night really settled in. By the time I’d climbed the elaborate metalwork that constructed the bench, the sun was just setting. There was still a good 30 minutes before the lamps and decorations were lit, and people still walked the paths. Many were coming to and from the market for their last-minute shopping. According to the Tergaian calendar I had, it was Yggsmas Eve. And Christmas eve. It still amazed me how some things coincided with Earth, like the names of the days and months, and even some of the holidays.

“-and make sure they’re set properly. Iansa could send her winter storm any day now and I won’t have the park paths unusable.” a voice said as I settled into my spot on the bench. The top of the bench’s back should have scared me, and at times it did, but it was the best way to be seen and avoid getting hit in the face by windblown leaves or trash. For the most part. “After that you can – Oh, good evening.”

I gave the park director a wave before I started playing “Silent Night”. The man was polite enough, and didn’t mind my playing for scraps. Even before the King had sent him a letter about me as well. He almost treated me like any of the other Giantfolk buskers that worked the park. If he had any doubts about my living under a bench, they were gone in the wake of the King’s praises.

“You can head home for the night afterwards.” he continued, his attention back to the park attendant. It was just my luck it was Rogers, the only park employee to outright hate me. I tried to ignore him. He had been pretty hostile when I first arrived. And he still held on to that resentment, despite the manager and the King’s letter. “Good night, and Happy Yggsmas.”

“Right on, sir. Happy Yggsmas to you too, sir.” Rogers replied as cheerily as he could. A sneer returned as soon as the manager left down the path. He spit in my direction but went about his work. Kneeling down he placed his hands on one of the park’s crystal rocks. There was at least one placed between all the benches. When I first arrived, I thought they were some kind of art piece or memorial. Something to give the park style, maybe. Rogers was about to demonstrate how wrong that original assumption was. “Heat.”

The crystal gave a faint glow at the sound of the spell.

Magic was real here. The Giantfolk knew magic and it didn’t even seem like that big a deal to them. The first time I saw it, I hadn’t realized what I was looking at. One of the regular performers at the park was a street magician. I’d stopped to watch during my initial trek around the new, too-big world. He did the usual tricks: guessed at cards, pulled an “endless” string of handkerchiefs from his hand, and the like. Despite my best effort, I had been spotted by the street magician. He barely flinched, however, and found a way to incorporate me into his act, if only for a moment. With a series of hand gestures and simple words, he managed to turn a single flower into a bouquet, from something that barely fit into his arms only for it to somehow appear in mine instantly. I almost dropped the flowers the second they appeared in my hand. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t have been. After the applause ended, he retrieved the flowers without ever bending down or reaching for them. He simply gave a nod and returned to his work, leaving me awestruck.

Magical Giantfolk. Who would’ve thought?

Rogers muttered a few more spells into the crystal before he continued on his way. He spit once more as he passed me. I gave him a certain hand gesture in return. Rogers would’ve retaliated, I was certain, if other Giantfolk hadn’t arrived. The pair sat on my bench, warm drinks in hand, and actually seemed interested to hear what I had to play. Earth holiday music was just different enough to Tergaian songs that many found it, well, a novelty to hear. I’d been practicing their Yggsmas carols thanks to a portable wireless set I was given, but usually stuck to what I already knew.

Within a few hours, I’d managed to earn a piece of peppermint bark and a veggie tart. It was a good haul. I would’ve loved to share it with someone. I wished Tylar was there. I wished Ma was there…

Oh Ma.

What were you doing right then? Where you sick with worry? Angry? Did you miss me as much as I missed you? After what I’d said…did you miss me at all?

“OH YGGBÍL, OH YGGBÍL, HOW LOVELY ARE THY BRANCHES!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake…” I grumbled. The carolers had come back around. It wasn’t the first time that day, let alone in the last few weeks, that they insisted on singing near my bench. There was usually a “code” among the buskers and street performers: don’t overlap on another’s turf, especially when you had similar “shows”. The only upside was knowing I wasn’t the only one the group had been intruding on. I know the park director had to reprimand them for intruding on others’ acts. If the performers hadn’t chased them off themselves, in their own way. I knew for a fact they were pursued by a flock of the magician’s doves the first time they tried singing near him. The downside being, well, their Giantfolk voices always managed to drown out my songs no matter how much I tried. One voice got lost in a chorus of many, after all.

I was ready to call it a night when the Giant man sat down on my bench.

He wore a dark red coat that matched his flat cap, with white accents throughout his outfit. It certainly looked like the typical holiday fashion I’d spotted throughout that day. Even the inconsiderate carolers were dressed in Yggsmas colors. The man set his bag down beside him and got comfortable. The carolers took this as a good sign and focused their attention on him, ramping up their song.

“Excuse me, but isn’t it rude trying to sing over another performer?” he asked in a strong tone. “I can’t hear the young man play.”

The carolers, for once in their lives, were stunned. Some grumbled and others shot a dirty look or two, but started down the path towards the market. They picked up their song and were out of earshot soon enough.

“Got any requests, bruv? I’ll do my best.” I asked once we were settled again. There was no way I was going to leave without offering something in return.

“I wouldn’t mind something bittersweet, if you can manage.” the man sighed, leaning back against the bench. Strands of tinsel were intwined in the dreadlocks he swept over his shoulder. “It would just be nice to not hear Yggsmas songs for a little while.”

“Say no more. I think you’ll like this one.”

It was an oldie but a goodie, and one I knew by heart. God forbid it should happen, but if ever I lost my hands, I was sure I could still play the tune with my feet. It was one of the first songs I ever learned to play.

It was the first song I ever played for Ma.

“Do you know what Yggsmas is supposed to be about, lad?” he asked after a while.

“Something about…a tree? Ygg…something. I don’t remember the whole thing. Sorry. I know it’s important.”

“Would you like a summary, young man?”

“All right.”

“It’s the day our Mother Tree, Yggbíl, sprouted into existence. Light and warmth came into the world at her arrival. It would take her 7 days before she grew her first fruit, the first forms of life.” he explained, staring off into the distance. His attention turned to the decorations all around us. “Yggsmas is a celebration of her birth, so to speak, and to remind us there is still light and life to be found even during the darkest and coldest times. The year is started off with noise and resolutions to encourage new beginnings and to chase away past regrets.”

The similarity to Christmas and New Year’s celebrations was both comforting and distressing.

“But when you start to really think about the ‘reason for the season’…it’s hard not to get a little cynical around the holidays. Yggbíl’s first fruit…they were what we call the dæmons. They were her first attempt at life, but…she was too young. She wasn’t strong enough to keep them on her branches to grow. They fell before they were ready. And once they hit the ground, well…it wasn’t good.”

He heaved a great sigh and closed his eyes. It was almost like he needed a moment to collect himself. Maybe he was a teacher or a theologian who had lectured this same lesson countless times to students. Probably the first time in a long time to have someone interested in what he had to say. I wasn’t there to judge. Just trying to earn some bread. Literally.

“With no magic of their own, without that needed connection to their Mother Tree, the dæmons rampaged across the land. Maybe it was out of anger, or pain, or…loneliness. They lashed out until Yggbíl was strong enough to create the gods who would defeat them. Or at least, to keep them contained. Many think of it as a good thing, a job well done. Divine triumph and so on. But…was it? The dæmons never asked to be born. They didn’t know how life would be for them in their…imperfect forms. They just wanted to live. How can anyone blame them for trying to survive?”

“…is that why you Giantfolk see us as demons too? Because we’re not…magic or connected or whatever?”

“Another thing I don’t understand. This world isn’t exactly logical sometimes.”

I snorted. I hadn’t meant to, but it came out. My grip tightened on my guitar just in case I needed to make a mad dash for it. I had experience making my way down the bench by then, it would’ve been easy. It was just a matter of being faster than the Giantfolk. It, unfortunately, wouldn’t have been the first time I needed to make a quick escape.

The man’s gentle laugh was a relief.

“Understatement of the century, lad.” he chuckled. I kept playing the bittersweet song he requested, almost on a loop. Not that anyone would have known the difference. The calm mood was broken soon enough. “Something on your mind, son?”

“Hmm?”

“I thought I was the only one feeling melancholy tonight but you seem a bit down yourself.”

There was a part of me that wanted to lie. To ignore the feeling and just keep playing.

“…understatement of a lifetime, bruv.”

“I don’t mind listening if you don’t mind talking about it. You did just hear me prattle on after all.”

I turned towards the Giant, hoping to shrug it all off. Talking about your personal struggle with someone who saw you as some party trick wasn’t exactly a good idea. But as I locked eyes with him, there was just something about him. It could’ve been the earnest look of interest he wore. Or the pair of scars on his cheeks that interested me. Or maybe I just needed a stranger I’d never see again to lend an ear.

“I…I miss home.”

It was enough for everything to start pouring out.

“I mean…I guess most of us, most humans, miss home. Everyday. It’s not like I’m the only one. It’s just…the last person I saw before…before I ‘Crossed Over’…was Ma. We had a fight about…it doesn’t matter. I was being stupid. I was upset over…over something I probably shouldn’t have been, really. I said…I said something…something awful to her before I left and…and now I’ll n-never…I’ll never get to apologize. Because I’m here. I’m stuck HERE and I can’t make it up to her and we’ll never see each other again. I’d…I’d give anything to j-just…to just be able to tell her I was sorry. Or to take it all back like…like it never even happened. I just wish I had a chance to make it right.”

The tears ran down my cheeks without my knowing it. I tried my best to wipe them away but my efforts weren’t enough.

“Sorry bruv, you don’t…this isn’t what you’re here for. I can keep playing…”

“Here.” the man softly said, offering something from his enormous hand. Laying on a fingertip was a handkerchief. When I picked it up, begrudgingly, I saw it was embroidered with an elaborate “C” in the corner. “Take your time, lad.”

I’m afraid to admit it took longer to calm down than I wanted. Once I was all cried out, I made to give the handkerchief back to the man. The man waved my attempts off.

“Yggsmas is…it’s an awful lot like Christmas back home. Not the exact same reasons but…close enough. And same ways to celebrate. Gifts, and songs, and food, and fam…family. This’ll be the first Christmas away from home…away from Earth…and away from Ma. I can’t stop thinking of what’s happening back home. Did Ma decorate this year? Is she alone? Does she…does she think I’m dead? It’s…it’s hard, that’s all.”

My fingers brushed against my guitar strings but no song came to mind. Even strumming random chords felt out of place. The energy was gone.

“I can only imagine what you must be feeling.” the man stated, breaking the silence. “If it were possible, I’d make sure every human who wanted to return to Earth would.”

The sentiment was appreciated. And needed. But I couldn’t help but get hung up on the odd phrasing. “Every human who wanted to”. What human would want to stay here if given the chance to go home?

“Did…does your mother have a favorite ‘Chrizmush’ song? Or a tradition you associate with her?”

“…yeah. Of course.” I replied eventually.

“Think of it before you go to sleep tonight. It may just help.” he stated, rummaging around in his bag. He pulled out a package and studied it carefully. “Don’t suppose these guitar strings would be of any use, would they?”

“They’re practically perfect, bruv.” I answered as he held the package up for me to inspect. “They seem like premium strings though. I’d feel bad if you had to give them up for lil’ ol’ me.”

“You don’t ‘give up’ gifts, you present them.” he stated, shrinking the package down in a flash and holding it out once more. I was less hesitant to accept something from his immense hand this time.

“Thanks, bruv. And…thanks for listening.”

“This world can be illogical and hostile towards you and your kind. It won’t be an easy life here. Please try to keep in mind, there is kindness too, when it decides to show itself. I know it’s not much, but I hope it’s a small comfort for you. Have a good night, and Merry Christmas, Waseem.”

“Happy Yggsmas, mister.”

…Wait.

Did I tell him my name?

The Giant man was already gone before I turned to face him.

I was already making my descent down the bench when I heard the carolers returning. If they were so determined to sing that night, they could have the spot. They’d be gone by the day after. Might as well let others drive them off in my stead.

As I touched the ground, a series of loud sniffles caught my attention. Standing tall and gangly, his scarred nose searching around him, was a fox I knew all too well. Robin was a friend, in a way, since my first days in the park. I came across him on my travels around the park one day. The fox had gotten himself caught in something while snapping at a badger. I was scared at first, but it didn’t seem right to let the poor tod not have a fair fight. Especially when the striped bastard took a swipe at his face. I managed to get his leg free before anything more could happen. Afterwards, he seemed to follow me whenever I walked around the park or managed an overload of food for the day.

“Hey there, Robin.” I called out. The massive fox took a few sniffs my way and got excited. He yipped a few times before he turned his attention to the scraps on the ground. “Go on, boy. All for you. I’m good for the night.”

Robin set to eating the leftover bark and tart right then and there. I turned to enter my tent when I felt his nose on my back. The first few times he had done so, I was terrified. I thought for sure he decided mouse-sized meant mouse-meal too. It took a while to realize he was trying to be friendly. I gave him his now-expected pats and scratches before too many people stopped by. Once there were more Giantfolk than scraps, he dashed off into the night.

It was hard getting to sleep that night. The wireless played as I tried to doze off. The Yggsmas carols were comforting but disconcerting. They were strange and familiar and out of place but recognizable all at once. After a while, I gave up and turned it off. As I rolled over, a hand instinctively reached out for Tylar. Nights were easier when he was around. Days were easier. Life was easier. I’d have to find some way to make it up to him, too. If ever he decided to come back.

Ma would’ve known what to say. She was always good with these sorts of things. God knows she put her foot in her mouth enough times through the years. Ma always found some way to patch things up in the end.

Oh Ma.

I miss you more than you know.

The Giant’s suggestion soon came to mind. What harm could it have done?

I began humming the first verse softly to myself before letting the lyrics pour out. It was Ma’s way of waking me up on Christmas Day if I hadn’t rushed into her bedroom first. We were born and raised in the town it was named for, after all. It was a cheesy song, but it was her favorite. I wasn’t even halfway done before I finally felt drowsiness overcome me.

Maybe there was an expectation to relive old memories. To remember the good times from days past and hope that would be enough.

What I didn’t expect was to find myself home again.

Everything seemed as it ever was: worn but carefully maintained furniture, knick-knacks dotting the mantel alongside family photos, and the smell of something absolutely delicious in the oven. A Christmas tree sat in its usual spot in a corner, decorated but barely. In fact, there were fewer decorations than usual. Enough to celebrate, but only just. I took a chance and carefully walked from the living room to look into the kitchen. Standing at the sink, her face towards her task, was a short, squat woman with graying red hair tied into a braid.

It was her.

It was really her.

“Ma?”

The figure stood still for a moment. She almost seemed ready to turn around, but thought against it. The dishwashing continued instead. I took a cautious step forward, crossing the checkered linoleum until I stood next to her. Even then, she kept her eyes to the sink.

She slowly handed me a plate, still wet but clean from her scrubbing.

I took the drying towel, which hung from a handle nearby, and started drying. Just like I used to do every night after dinner.

The silence was overwhelming and tense but…it was Ma. It was home. I couldn’t be happier.

Now if only she’d talk to me.

“I’m sor-!”

“I’m so sorry, Waseem.” she stated quickly. There was a moment as we both tried to process what was said. She breathed a sigh of relief soon enough. “I mean it. I’m sorry I said what I said and did what I did.”

“I’m sorry too.” I replied. “I shouldn’t have gotten angry. It wasn’t worth-!”

“Don’t you lie to me, Waz.” she interrupted, handing me a bowl. “You know damn well you had every right to be angry. Don’t tell tales just to make me feel better. I raised-! …That is, you know better than that.”

As I wiped down the bowl, I tried to think of something to say. Months to think about how I wanted this conversation to go, thinking I had every possible angle planned…and I was still drawing a blank.

“…You’re right. I was angry. And it WAS my right to be angry. But that doesn’t mean I should’ve…I shouldn’t’ve said you weren’t my real mum.”

The silence was tense as we continued to clean and dry and set the various dishes into the drying rack.

“…Ma? Why didn’t you ever tell me about them?”

She hesitated. For a long time, there was only her washing the same platter. I thought for sure I’d never hear her speak again.

“Amina never wanted them to get their hands on you.” Ma finally said, handing me the next piece to dry. “Her family was…there was a reason she eloped, and a reason she left him, and a reason she stayed with me.”

“Because she loved you.”

“Aheh. Yes. Because she loved me. Because she loved you. And because Amina knew they’d do everything in their power to take you from her.” she explained. A soft smile crossed her face at the memory. I never knew my birth mother, but Ma did. She started to tear up soon enough. “I’m so stupid. I should…I should have told you ages ago. I failed her. I failed you. I failed in ways I never meant to.”

“Ma, you didn’t. I promise. You did your best and I turned out alright. Mostly.”

“I said I’d always protect you and…and I couldn’t even do that. I wanted to make sure you were never called…that word…for as long as I could. But I couldn’t stop that Calvin from when we lived in London, could I?”

“…The first time I was called that was when I was 9. By Cousin Bentley. But I settled it right away.” I explained. There was still that terrible feeling all over just remembering it. That lump in the pit of my stomach, the racing of my heart, the ache of someone I knew hurting me so deep. That first time I heard my rat-faced cousin call me that, it was like a slap in the face. “I mean, you didn’t really believe he slipped and got his face stuck to the table with his model glue on accident, right?”

“…What.”

“Ma. C’mon.”

“What.”

“There was a reason I gave him bottles of glue for his birthday and Christmas. It took him a few years to get the point, but he apologized. I promise.”

“That little son of a bitch.”

“Ma, that’s your sister. What’s past is past.” I said, trying to calm her down. Her ears were turning as red as her hair. She was ready to blow like a kettle if she lingered on the thought for too long. “Calvin got what he deserved too, remember. I’d still like to shake the hand of the guy who beat his ass though. Never did figure that out, did we?”

It came as a surprise to feel Ma slip her hand into mine instead of another plate. The realization only dawned on me when she started to shake our hands up and down.

“Ma.”

“That chav cunt had it coming.”

“MA.”

“I wasn’t about to let him get away with letting those words fall out of his mouth. He’s lucky his teeth didn’t follow close behind.”

“Ma, he went to hospital! Had stitches and, what, a broken rib? How’d you avoid going to jail for assaulting a kid?!”

“A teen!”

“STILL!”

“I told his mum if she tried to file charges, I’d tell her husband about all the comings and goings from her house while he was at work.”

“…Holy shit, how’d you know she was cheating on him?!”

“I didn’t. she just assumed I knew something.” Ma chuckled, a smile returning to her face. She set down the teapot she was trying to clean. “God Above, but this was a good dream.”

“Ma?” I asked gently, trying to catch her eyes again. They had remained on our task the whole time. Never once did she turn her head. Not even try to see me from the corner of her eye.

“I’ve had it before, you know. At least once a week since you disappeared. Rightly disappeared, even. No one but that mental Missus Wilson saw you just…vanish. They wouldn’t believe me when I tried to explain. Everyone thinks you just took off and I was having a mental break or something.”

I just kept drying the same bowl, waiting for her to continue.

“Every time, you would call ‘Ma’, and every time I would turn to see you. And…and every time you would just…just disappear again. I thought maybe this time if I didn’t turn, if I concentrated on just…just washing the dishes, you’d be able to stay. For good. Forever.”

“What makes you think this is a dream this time?” I asked, more to myself than her. It all felt very real. Maybe I was home. Maybe I was back to the life I knew and loved and Ma would be alright. We would be alright.

But…that meant Tylar would be gone too…

“You remember this teapot?”

I looked at the one she held. It was familiar. More than familiar, actually. It was one I had made for her in a ceramics class. It was a simple, ordinary shaped pot but brightly colored and covered in garden flowers and bugs.

“I broke it during our move back to Killarney from London. I hadn’t meant to but…I still did. I glued it back together but told myself it would stay in a special place from then on. But here it is, all in one piece. Like I’d never dropped the damn thing.”

Tears started coming down her face. And seeing her cry just made me want to cry too.

“I want to stay, Ma. I never would’ve left if…if it meant I would never see you again.” I explained. She choked up at the thought, and the tears ran like rivers. “I miss you so much. All I want is to come home.”

“Oh God, you’re dead. You’re dead and…and…”

“No, no, I’m alive. But where I am…I don’t think I can make it back. I want to. It’s…it’s not much of a life but…I did meet somebody. I think you’d like him. But it’s not the same. And…I want you to know, all right? Every day I think of you, and miss you, and want to be home. Please remember that: I love you Ma, and I always will.”

Ma finally turned to face me. Streak marks were already showing up on her cheeks from the tears. Her eyes were red, and wide, and searching, and desperate, and the deep green I knew and loved. When she saw I was still there, she dropped the teapot into the sink. With a speed I never would’ve expected from her, she reached for me.

“Maybe if I hold on to you this time…maybe you’ll stay…” she explained, wrapping her arms around me.

I didn’t argue.

I wanted it to be true, too.

I returned her embrace. It was the tightest hug. It was the best hug. It was the longest hug.

It would be the last hug we’d give each other.

The tears were already falling before I woke up.

I heaved great big sobs, just letting the emotions wash over me.

I had gotten my wish after all.

It took ages for me to stop, and to calm down. It felt like swimming in a whirlpool of relief and sorrow. Ma knew I was alive. I knew she was all right. We’d had our say, no matter how short it was.

What was next?

“Apologize to Tylar, for one thing…” I mumbled to myself. He deserved that, and more, but it would be a start. I didn’t know how I would make it up to him, but I knew I had to. I hadn’t been the best boyfriend the last few days. If he came to visit today, I’d make him feel as special as I knew him to be.

It was as I was getting dressed that I finally noticed something odd.

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

Checking the time, it was a little after 7 am. At the very least, there should’ve been the cooing of pigeons or growling of dragons or other signs of wildlife. Maybe the thundering of joggers and runners as they made their way down the path. Something had to be wrong. I was cautious, slowly unzipped the tent flap, and peeked outside.

The world was pitch black.

“Oh no…” I muttered. I let the tent flap fall back in place as I reached for a spare lantern. It took a few tries to get the damned thing lit. The crystal chip inside gave off a strong glow on the third try. When I went to inspect the outside, my worst fears were confirmed. In the bright light, I could see exactly what caused the darkness: snow.

The storm had come early.

The bench was surrounded by walls of snow. I could only imagine how bad the outside looked in comparison. The Giantfolk could write it off as only a meter at best. To me, down here, it was enough to cover a house at least. Some of the flakes still trickled in through the bench slots above, but barely. There was a light dusting on the ground but the walls worried me the most.

I was trapped.

A cautious testing of the snow proved it was solid enough. Maybe. Even if I had a shovel, digging myself out sounded like a bad idea. There was no telling if I’d cause an avalanche or a cave-in during my attempts. Worse yet, with it being a Giantfolk holiday, who knew when someone would walk by. I was on my own for this.

I needed time to think.

Packing up was my first priority. Everything, with the exception of a few key items and my guitar, made it into the special backpack. Apparently, it had a spell on it that made it bigger on the inside. More than convenient, if you asked me. Especially when it came to stuffing my favorite blanket inside. It was a handmade, knitted gift from one of my “regulars”. She was a sweet old lady who appreciated good music when she heard it. It wasn’t something I wanted to leave behind. Using the lantern, I double-checked the area. The snow was packed all around, creating an unintentional igloo without an entrance.

I stared at the stone chip in my hand. It was part of that very first donation from Tylar and Georgie. He explained it was part of something called a Jumper Stone. The SAIH folks didn’t have the resources for full working stones to distribute, but the stones and crystals could still hold magic when broken apart. Inconvenient for the Giantfolk, but adequate for us humans. I was warned it would be a one-shot deal though, and to use it wisely. It would teleport me to wherever Georgie and Tylar lived.

“Here I come, Tylar.” I muttered as I squeezed the chip.

I don’t know what I was expecting. A “whoosh”? The ground dropping away from me? Every atom of my being to tear apart and mesh again?

What I didn’t expect…was failure.

The stone chip did nothing as I tried squeezing it over and over.

“Ok, that’s…that’s fine. Just use the other one.”

The other one was, as Georgie explained, a proper Jumper Stone. Shrunken down, of course, but much better than just a chip. This one in particular was of the highest grade, capable of multiple “Jumps” if needed. It was the one from the king’s gift package. The one that would bring me far away to the king’s castle.

I admit, I hesitated taking it out of its box.

“It’s…it’s fine. You’ll be fine. It’s an open invitation, and it’s not like you’re moving into the place. You just need to interrupt the king of a Giant country on a Giant world on an important national Giant holiday so you don’t suffocate to death under a snow bank.”

With a deep breath, I squeezed and hoped for the best.

What I got was…not the best.

“…What the Hell is going on?” I said, squeezing the stone over and over again. It took a moment to notice the note stuck inside stone’s carrying case.

It read:

“This Jumper Stone will bring you straight to Castle Arcadi when squeezed. Be sure to recharge it by setting it under sunlight or in water or buried under the earth. Do this once a week for anywhere between 1 hour to 6 hours for a full charge.”

“Shit.”

I’d kept both the chip and the stone hidden away in their boxes for the last few weeks.

“SHIT!”

The swears and insults came fast and loud. I couldn’t help it. I was doomed. How was anyone supposed to find me in time? Was this really how I was going to die? Underneath a park bench in the middle of nowhere? On Christmas?!

That’s when the walls started caving in.

“AH!”

Well, one wall.

“What the-?!”

Well, part of a wall.

The snow came crashing down and I was running in the opposite direction in an instant. I thought for sure the entire structure would fall from the sudden force. The other walls managed to stay in place however. The snow must have been packed well enough to keep them steady.

I turned to face my savior.

YIP YIP

“Robin!” I yelled as the fox dug his way through. He shook himself free of the snow in his fur before sniffing his way towards me. I gave him his usual pats in appreciation. “Oh, thank God for you, you mangy ol’ tod you.”

Robin didn’t seem interested in the pats or the insults for long. He sniffed his way around the area, making paw prints in the snow. My guess was he heard my voice and hoped some of the usual scraps could be found too. He gave another yip before he made his way out from under the bench. I didn’t blame him.

We both had other places to be.

Heading towards Georgie and Tylar would’ve been a good idea. Crossing the market space probably would’ve been easier with everyone elsewhere for the day. And, naturally, it would’ve been quite the surprise for them to see me turn up on their doorstep.

If only I knew where their doorstep was.

Georgie mentioned an apartment near the university, but I didn’t know what building let alone an apartment number. Who knew if she and Tylar hadn’t left to visit her family already?

I couldn’t risk it.

I decided to head north, towards the Giantfolk temple. Tylar said they were letting humans hole up in their halls for the winter, after all. Hopefully they’d find me in a few days or weeks. The idea of not seeing Tylar again for a long time hurt. But I couldn’t stay.

It took a bit of effort to climb out of the hole Robin made. When I reached the top of the snow bank, I was surprised at what I saw. Mostly confused, truthfully. The storm had clearly hit, the piles of snow were evidence of that. But the usual walking path and benches looked like the oddest chess board imaginable. Every other bench was covered and piled over like mine had been, while others were mostly clear. The path randomly had clear patches of road among packed snow and ice. A barely made trail zig-zagged through the patchwork snow piles. There must have been at least a few Giantfolk who had the guts to traverse the blizzard’s aftermath.

“HOW IN CADUCEUS’ NAME COULD YOU SCREW UP THIS BADLY, ROGERS?!” a familiar voice bellowed as I slid down to the ground. Coming my way was the park director with Rogers close behind him. It was quite the sight to see them carefully making their way down the trampled trail. “YOU HAD JUST BETTER HOPE NO ONE HAS FALLEN OR FROZEN TO DEATH IN ALL OF THIS!”

“Sir, forgive me, you have to believe me, this could never happen unless-!” Rogers began, stammering out his excuses. He spotted me soon enough, and pointed an accusing finger. “Unless something messed with the crystals! It had to be him, he’s here all the time! Done it to make me look bad, I know it! Nasty little díbeartach shouldn’t be squatting-!”

Something snapped. I wasn’t going to be insulted with Giantfolk slurs, and I wasn’t going to take false accusations.

“OH YEAH, YOU FOUND ME OUT! I DID IT SO I COULD BE BURIED UNDERNEATH THE SNOW AND DIE OF ASPHYXIATION AND HYPOTHERMIA! HOW DID YOU EVER GUESS?! FUCKING MORON.” I yelled at the top of my lungs.

“How dare you-!”

“ENOUGH!” the director interrupted quickly. “Even IF he damaged the crystals, WHICH I DOUBT, it would still fall on you for not casting the proper spells to reinforce them! I had you maintain them all week for this reason! Now go grab a shovel from the equipment shed, and clear this all up the Gan-Bhrí way if you want to keep your job!”

Rogers, thankfully, clammed up and followed the suggestion. I wouldn’t miss him, that was for sure. Maybe in time, he would be a little humbler.

But I doubted it.

“…And where are you off to?” the park director asked. He had noticed my walking away from the bench. “The area should be clear soon enough.”

“Actually, I, um, I think I’m going to find somewhere else to uh…stay. Until the snow melts, anyway.” I found myself replying. The look on his face was…well, it was a surprise. He looked almost crestfallen at the news. It wasn’t something I was expecting from any of the Giantfolk.

“Oh. Will you be back?”

I wasn’t certain why I felt it was important to answer his question. Let alone sincerely.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I will. I mean, if you don’t mind me coming back, bruv.”

“As long as I’m director, you’ll always be welcome. I do admit, I will miss your songs. Your bench will be waiting for you when you return. Safe travels, lad.”

“Thanks. Happy Yggsmas, bruv.”

It took some time to make it to the park entrance. I stopped to take breaks along the trampled snow path. I managed to catch sight of Robin along the way. He was hopping through the snow, much like when he dove into the snow to free me. Not that he saw it, but I waved my goodbye as he passed. Hopefully he would be here when I came back. Life was going to be a struggle for the both of us. I was lucky that what few Giantfolk I crossed along the way stopped to let me pass or made sure to carefully step over me. It was terrifying, to say the least.

But not as terrifying as reaching the public street.

Flashbacks to that first time came rushing as I reached the curb. Doubts flooded in again as I looked around. There would be immense horses pulling carts or carrying riders. The other side of the pavement felt like a kilometer away just looking at it. The Giant guard standing in the crosswalk didn’t help matters either. She seemed to be directing traffic as best she could while the main road was blocked off. A Yggsmas parade perhaps? It was hard to tell and I wasn’t in the mood for sightseeing. I had a goal in mind. When the light changed, I screwed up all my courage and made a mad dash.

Screaming all the way.

I didn’t even make it half way before I had to stop.

“A bit dramatic there, doona ye think?” the Giant guard asked when I stopped. Her eyes were still on her job as I caught my breath. I waited by her, until she gave the all clear to cross again. As I set off, screaming again, she made one last comment. “…Humans. Pfft.”

One corner down at least.

The pavement was manageable enough. There were Giantfolk out, making their way to wherever they needed to be. I kept to the curbside, just in case. Most of the stores were closed, thankfully. I couldn’t imagine making the trek with a large crowd.

“Oh shit, what’s the spring going to look like coming back?” I mumbled to myself as I reached the next corner. The temple was getting closer in sight, thankfully. The street was a little too busy for my liking this time. So, I did something I never thought I’d do.

I took a chance and asked for Giantfolk help.

“Erm, excuse me, miss?” I called out to the Giant next to me. She was dressed to the nines with leather and spikes. Colored appropriately for the holiday, of course. It took all I had not to swat at the jingle bells hanging off of her boot laces. The over-sized crock pot she carried was sure to have something delicious inside. “Think you can help a fella out?”

“How’s that, m’man?” she chuckled once she caught sight of me.

“I, um…I don’t suppose you’d mind if I crossed the road with you? I don’t think I can make it on my own in time.”

“Doona think I can carry ye an’ me pot at the same time.”

“What if I…what if I rode from down here instead?” I asked, staring at her boots. There were enough belts and buckles on them after all. They had to be good for hand and foot holds, right? I took the chance and climbed onto the side of her boot, swatting a bell in the process. “I’ll hop off as soon as we reach the curb. Sound all right?”

“All right by me, mate. Hang on tight, aye? Here we go!”

She did her best to keep her footfalls slow and steady. The rise and fall of each boot was intense. It was like riding some slapped together carnival ride where you just heard several screws come undone. I was grateful of course, but as soon as we reached the other side I hopped off.

“Thanks again, bruv!” I yelled out, waving a quick goodbye. I took a moment to catch my breath against a lamppost. “Holy shit, I am never doing that again.”

The next corner would be the last one I needed to cross.

The road was busier this time, with carts and wagons and carriages and riders practically filling the street. The temple was a busy place to be, it seemed. It felt more like a taxi stop in front of a train station. Many people were being picked up and dropped off, or directed to park somewhere else. I wasn’t sure if I would make it across by myself again.

“Da, look!” a voice called out from above.

I dreaded to turn my head, but turn it I did. The Giant kid had his eyes on me. Ignoring him wasn’t an option. If I didn’t keep on my toes, I would be grabbed. Kids attempted it before in the park. Why would here be any different?

“Yes kiddo, a human. Leave him be now. We have to cross the street, all right?” the father gently said. He had another child in his arms while the curious boy held onto a loaded basket of goodies with him. Otherwise, I was sure he would’ve just picked the kid up. He tugged the basket, in the hopes of urging the boy to start walking. The kid kept watching me instead.

Inspiration struck.

I swung my guitar from its place and started strumming. When the kid giggled, I made sure his eyes were still on me. I ran a bit ahead, strumming a tune. The kid was more eager to cross the street now, with his father in tow. I almost laughed when the Giant dad mouthed the words “thank you” in the middle of the road. Traffic waited for us, as no one was going to make a parent and their children rush across the road. The father distracted him at the last moment so I could make my “escape”. They were halfway up the temple stairs when I hopped up onto the pavement.

“…Oh shit.”

The stairs.

I hadn’t taken literal, Giant-sized steps into account in my plan.

Aches and pains were already creeping into my legs. A few minutes’ walk to the Giantfolk was hours for me. The idea of climbing each step was exhausting just to think about. Maybe this was doomed for failure after all.

“Taking a rest too, my friend?”

I turned to see an older Giant sitting on the steps. His pipe was filled with something sweet and pleasing and comforting. A prayer rug sat rolled up tight in his lap.

“As-Salaam-Alaikum.” I greeted automatically. Not that I expected him to know the saying. But a part of me wished he did.

“Wa-Alaikum-Salaam.” he responded kindly.

“I…I was just trying to figure out how to take on these steps, bruv.”

“Hmm. They are a worthy opponent indeed. These old bones certainly don’t carry quite like they used to.” he said with a puff of his pipe. He gestured to something behind me. “Though I do believe that was made to help you and yours.”

It looked like a slide running down the stairs. A box was set atop it with a cable attached towards the temple. It certainly looked out of place. Why hadn’t I noticed it before? Maybe because I was more worried about making it here alive.

“Oh. That’s…huh. Do you need any help, br…sir?”

“Probably. But I’ll be fine. I just need a few moments. Don’t you worry about me.”

The box would prove to be more than I expected. On closer inspection, I saw a door cut into each side. There sat a bench within, and small crystal chip within reach of the seat. Once I was in place, I took the chance and touched the crystal. It jerked forward in an instant, and slowly made its way forward and upward. It was the most excruciating rollercoaster I’d ever been on. I tried to concentrate on anywhere but outside the box. An eternity later, it finally reached the top of the “hill” and stopped. I scrambled out and watched as it slowly returned itself to the bottom of the steps.

“Oh dear God, never again.” I said aloud. Once my heart started beating again, I turned toward the temple entrance itself. It was tall, and grand, and looked like some kind of Greek or Roman structure on the outside. What little I could see of the interior reminded me more of the cathedrals from home. Glimpses of reliefs, and statues, and stained glass caught my eye.

Now that I was there…I wasn’t sure what to do.

Maybe this was a bad idea after all.

“Welcome, young man.” a voice called from above. A Giant in monk’s robes was standing nearby. She seemed to be the temple greeter, welcoming the other attendees and offering directions or answers when needed. “Do you need any help?”

“I…um…” I started, not sure what to ask or how to ask it. My brain shorted out, I admit. A step forward activated something beneath my feet. Tiles, recently added, now stood out from the ancient floor. A soft blue glow led into the temple and around a corner. It took a moment to realize it was a path meant for humans hopping off the make-shift tram. I turned my attention back to the monk. “There’s a man down the steps who could use a hand, bruv.”

“So there is. Thank you for pointing him out for me. Why don’t you show yourself in and get warmed up?” she offered, gesturing along the blue glowing tiles. The monk was already making her way down the steps before I could thank her. I was glad to hear her once more before I entered the building. “As-Salaam-Alaikum!”

The inside of the temple was busy and overflowing with Giantfolk. The center of it all seemed to contain colossal statues surrounded by worshippers and piles of gifts. Food and trinkets made in offering? I would have to ask for sure once everything settled down. Maybe tomorrow. For now, I would continue following the path before me. It rounded a corner near the entrance and led to an alcove. I should have been interested in the lights hanging above the area, or the drinking fountain that had tubes and ladders and a platform hanging from its side. The paintings and wall mosaics would have been a sight too.

But I was more stunned by what was set up along the wall instead.

Humans.

There were other humans here too.

Familiar lean-tos and tents and bed rolls lined up next to each other. A couple of people were surrounding a fire nearby. No. not a fire: it was another crystal structure. Giving off light and warmth as they sat on benches made of random Giantfolk detritus, it seemed. Boxes and spools and the like. If I hadn’t felt like some kind of Borrower before, it certainly felt like it now. I caught the eye of someone by the crystal, who nudged another next to them. They all turned to look at me.

I offered an awkward wave. My heart jumped for joy at the sight of them returning the gesture.

“WAAAAASSSSEEEEEEEM!”

The rest of me jumped at the sound of my name.

I had barely turned to see who called out for me when I was tackled and spun in place.

“WASEEM! YER ALL RIGHT!” Tylar shouted as he hugged me. I automatically returned the embrace. We were kissing soon enough, but he managed to insult me with each breath. “Ye stupid MWAH idiot MWAH arsehole MWAH bastard MWAH I was MWAH so worried MWAH about ye!”

“We…thought…blizzard…park…bench…cave-in!” Georgie stated from behind him. She was kneeling on the ground, on the other side of the blue tile path. A full basket sat at her side as she tried to catch her breath. “You were…and then…park director…said…headed north…temple…glad you’re…okay…”

“We ran here as soon as we saw the state of the park. We saw yer bench an’ feared the worst, especially with those fox tracks! Thought that damn Robin did something to ye!”

“Heh. He was the one who got me out, actually. I can tell you the whole story.” I replied. “Thank you both for worrying about me. And…I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting, luv. I was an arsehole and I want to make it up to you in any way I can. Can you ever forgive me?”

“Hmm. Maybe. Yer gonna have to work hard at it though. I am very demandin’, ye know.”

“You’re worth it.” I chuckled. I pointed towards the encampment and the other humans, who seemed both anxious and curious at our reunion. “Wanna help me with the meet and greet and pick out a good spot for my tent?”

“I would be happy to. Ye may wanna offer yer thanks to the gods first, though. Tergaians consider it bad luck not to thank’em fer the Sanctuary they provide.”

“You guys go on…I have to make my offerings too.” Georgie said, finally rested. She grabbed her basket and set off in the other direction, waving one more time.

“Oh, do we…uh…do we need to give something to?” I asked as Tylar grabbed my hand and started to lead the way. His confidence in navigating the Giantfolk crowds was both terrifying and amazing.

“Nah, Tergaians and their gods doona expect it. Still, ye shoodne take the chance. I’ve seen the weirdest shit happen when ye doona pay yer respects.” Tylar replied, leading us towards the closest statue. I couldn’t make out who or what it was supposed to be and craning my neck hurt in the attempt. Tylar pointed towards something attached to the base in front of us. It was a poster -no, a photograph- of the very statue, with a summary of who they were and what they did. It didn’t look professionally done, but it was still made with care. “One time, me an’ mum saw an apple sour right in the hands a’ someone who dinna ask befer takin’ from the pile. Ankou may be the Solemn One but he doesne hesitate to act.”

“So, you know all this stuff by heart already, huh?”

“Well, when ye were born an’ raised in an Ankou temple, ye tend to learn a thing or two about the process. Especially when ye canna escape the bellowin’ lectures of Elder Zachary.”

Tylar was keeping his eyes on the statue infographic when I glanced at him. I admit, my jaw had dropped to the floor at the revelation.

“…I dinna mention it cuz ye seemed really hung up on if I were from Earth or not. I…was scared ye’d hate me if ye knew I’m Tergaian-born…” Tylar stated softly. “I dinna wanna lose ye over it.”

“I’m sorry I made you feel the need to hide it. It was…it was stupid of me to think it was so important. I love you, no matter what.” I replied. “And I want to hear all about it, your life and your parents and even Elder Zachary’s proselytizing.”

“No ye doona. Elder Zach was one Hells uv’a blowhard.” he chuckled, turning to face me. I gave him a quick kiss and squeezed his hand. “Mum was born here too. Dad’s from someplace called California. So…I know of Earth but not as much as I’d like.”

“Well, I don’t know as much as I should about Tergaia so…who do you recommend I thank?”

Tylar really opened up as we toured each statue. He gave his summaries and his reasons for thanking each of them. Ankou, a god of Death, for staying his hand that day. Dao-Ming, a goddess of Luck, for the abundance I seemed to have. Kismet, a goddess of Destiny, and the Queen of the pantheon, for writing me a safe path in her book. There were more, and they each received a word of thanks in the “proper way”, as Tylar called it.

It wasn’t until we reached the final statue, the biggest of them all, in the center of the temple. The others were lined in a circle surrounding it, and had been easier to walk between. We had waited for the crowds to dwindle enough to race towards it. The offering pile was immense compared to the others, and for good reason. The picture didn’t look nearly as intimidating as it did from my angle. The man was dressed in a toga, with odd marks on its cheeks, and plaited hair. This statue was of Caduceus, the king of the Gods, a god of Healing.

Healing.

It was definitely something I had needed.

My heart still ached for home, and for Ma, and for how life would be for me in a world of Giantfolk. But something about last night, whether it was the confession to a stranger, or the dream, or even the trek from today, that helped.

The healing process had begun. No matter how small it seemed.

“I…I think I’ll make an offering to this guy.” I said, taking off my backpack. I began rummaging for something, anything to give in thanks. “What do you recommend, luv?”

“It could be anything, really. Just so long as it’s heartfelt or sincere.”

An idea popped to mind. Maybe it didn’t have to be something physical.

“Um, Caduceus, god of Health and Healing, hear my…prayer. I don’t have much in the way of an offering, but I want to thank you…and the other gods too…for letting me stay here. And for looking out for me today. I think. I mean, I avoided death several times today by mere centimeters, so it had to be by some kind of divine providence. Whether it was God, or you, or the other gods, or just…I dunno, the universe.”

The Giant who was kneeling nearby in his own prayer glanced in my direction.

“It’s a long story, bruv.” I told him, grabbing my guitar once again.

“…Humans.” the Giant muttered, returning to his prayer.

“So, just in case you and yours were looking out for me today, I’d like to play a song. It’s a Christmas song. Christmas is…a long explanation, but trust me: it’s in the spirit of the holiday. It’s…it’s my Ma’s favorite, and I miss her a lot. Hopefully it’s…it’s good enough for you, and for these halls.”

With a deep breath, I started playing the first few chords of the cherished tune.

“The holly green, the ivy green The prettiest picture you've ever seen It's Christmas in Killarney With all of the folks at home

It's nice, ya know, to kiss your beau While cuddlin' under the mistletoe And Santa Claus, ya know of course Is one of the boys from home…”

As I sang, I thought of all the Christmases past. Of Ma belting at the top of her lungs to wake me up. Of presents, and discarded gift wrap piles, of cooking breakfast afterwards. Of other holidays, of birthdays, of the good days, and the bad days, of how much I was going to miss her.

Of how hard it was going to be moving forward.

But forward I would go.

I couldn’t stay in one spot any more. This world was mine now, and I was going to learn whatever I needed to.

Not just to survive.

But to live.

To live a life Ma would be proud of.

“…It's nice, ya know, to kiss your beau While cuddlin' under the mistletoe And Santa Claus, ya know of course Is one of the boys from home

The holly green, the ivy green The prettiest picture you've ever seen I'm handin' you no blarney No matter where you roam It's Christmas in Killarney With all of the folks at home!”

Polite applause was heard as I finished up. It wasn’t a surprise to see Tylar showing his appreciation, but the Giant congregant was unexpected. He left soon enough to be replaced by other Giantfolk. By then, me and Tylar were making our way back to the human alcove. Living with people my size, living among humans was something I had wanted for months. The prospect was terrifying after living in the park. But I wanted to make the effort. I needed to make the effort.

I wanted to be normal again.

And I wanted to be normal with Tylar, no matter how long it took.

“…Luv? Would you like to help me write a letter to the king?”

The End

[nikibogwater]

A Shot in the Dark: Chapter One (Author’s Commentary)

(read the fic here)

General Notes:

(So I kind of stole this idea from my friend @unexpected-possibilities after she made an author’s commentary post on one of her fics, and I was like “Oh. Wait, I actually find this kind of stuff SUPER interesting to read." So...yeah, here’s mine for anybody who feels similarly lol)

I have been dying to write this kind of story pretty much since the completion of my second Wizards/ToA fic back in August, but it took me a while to suss out the plot. I generally try to keep my fics as canon-friendly as possible (not that I have anything against AUs, that’s just not a direction that I usually go in) so it was tricky to create a high-stakes adventure story that didn’t mess with canon too much. 

That being said, Chapter 1 is pretty chill, apart from the scene at the end. But it is incredibly important to the plot, because it sets up elements that will be very relevant later in the story. It also serves to re-establish the three-way relationship between Douxie, Archie, and Nari, which will give their interactions in the future chapters more weight. 

One last general note before we get to the passage-specific stuff: The song “Protector” by City Wolf has always been my go-to theme for the Douxie-Archie-Nari relationship, but I think it really captures the feel of this story in particular (or at least, it will once the whole thing is posted lol). I’ve never associated a particular song with any of my other fics before, but this one really was a huge part of what inspired this story, so I highly recommend that you give it a listen, if you are so inclined.

Passage-Specific Notes:

Two pairs of luminous golden eyes were hovering uncomfortably close to his head and staring at him fixedly. Douxie yelped and threw off his covers, scrambling upright and fumbling for his magic vambrace nearby. A small green hand held it out to him politely, and after a bit of confused blinking, Douxie finally registered the faces of his companions. Nari and Archie were sitting on the floor next to his mattress, looking at him eagerly. 

Two short things: One: I had no idea how I was going to start this scene, and then I remembered that one Calvin and Hobbes strip where Calvin wakes up to find Hobbes hovering over him menacingly, and I was like “Yes, that will do nicely.” Two: I still have no idea what Douxie’s magic bracelet-thingy should technically be called, so I settled on vambrace. I know Merlin refers to it as a bracelet in the show, but Merl, I’m sorry, but you clearly know nothing about jewelry. That thing is NOT a simple bracelet. (Also I had to research the difference between bracers and vambraces in order to determine which word to use. Bracers are apparently protective gear that is exclusive to archery, while vambrace is a more general word for any kind of armor worn on the forearm).

“It’s also the day you promised to bring Nari to Central Park,” Archie informed him.

This is a callback to a previous entry in the series, Home Away From Home. Although each entry in the Immortal Bonds series is written in such a way that it can be enjoyed as a standalone, I do weave tiny threads of continuity throughout all of them.

Mornings for Nari looked very different than they used to, she realized as she set the kettle on the stove, stepping back so Archie could light it (due to her somewhat complicated relationship with Bellroc, she was still wary about anything that involved fire). As a demigoddess who had existed for hundreds of millenia, she had never had much experience with something as human as family domesticity.

The scene where Nari and Archie make Douxie’s tea was originally going to be much longer and feature a lot more introspection on Nari’s part (I even researched the British tea-making process for it, since I’m fairly certain Douxie is the one who taught her how to make tea). I was going to start exploring the idea that Nari is still insecure about her place in this little found family, but I realized after about three paragraphs that there’s no way Nari doesn’t know how much Douxie genuinely loves her--she is already proficient in reading his emotions at this point. So that’s an internal conflict for another day.

“Keep very still for me, Nari.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his aura flowing out and wrapping around her like a warm, familiar cloak. “Celare,” he murmured, and Nari felt a sharp tug on her spirit as the spell washed over it, cool and comforting like the shade of an old tree.

If you’ve read previous entries in this series, you know that I can wax poetic about the physical sensations of magic for DAYS. It is one of my favorite aspects of writing Tales of Arcadia fanfiction. Also Celare (kel-ahr-ay) is Latin for “Hide” or “Conceal.” I had to get outside help for this because I don’t speak Latin, and Google Translate is (as I found out) completely unreliable for even the simplest, single-word translations (it gave me the word for “clothe” when I used it 😑)

The first time she had walked the streets of New York City, Nari had been on the verge of tears. There were so many sensations assaulting her mind at once, the feeling of countless souls buzzing around, a crowd of spirits so thick that sometimes it felt like a wall. Even without tapping into her roots, she was drowning in a sea of tangling energies, as hundreds, even thousands of voices echoed in her soul all at once.

Oooooops, is that a parallel for Sensory Processing Disorder? Well, how did that get in there??? *shoves my own mental health issues under a rug with my foot* I have no clue.

This is probably as good a time as any to discuss auras vs. life energy. Basically, aura is the energy radiated by the presence of magic. Magical creatures who share close bonds can become very sensitive to one another’s aura, and because magic is so inextricably linked to emotion, Nari is able to read Douxie’s aura to pick up on whatever he’s feeling (though this is because she is extra sensitive to magical presence--Douxie is attuned to her aura, but he can’t read hers the way she can his). Life energy, meanwhile, is the energy given off by every living soul, magic or otherwise, and that’s what Nari is able to sense via her powers as a demigoddess. I sometimes interchange the word aura with spirit or soul or something similar, but if Douxie or Nari are sensing one another in any capacity apart from their actual physical senses, it’s their auras. Archie also has an aura, but it’s not as intense as that of a true magic-wielder.  

He was fashionably dressed, (“business casual,” the humans called it), with an elegant black trench coat hanging nonchalantly off of his arm. He had dark brown hair, handsomely trimmed and styled, just a bit shorter than Douxie’s, and was wearing a large pair of expensive-looking sunglasses. He looked thoroughly uninterested in the world around him, and had the appearance of someone who was waiting to meet up with a particularly tardy acquaintance. But Nari couldn’t sense that he was waiting. She couldn’t sense anything from this man. He emitted no life force, no aura or energy of any kind. He was like a standing, breathing corpse.

I have had this character floating around in the back of my mind since August, and I was just waiting for the opportunity to use him. Also fun fact, he was originally conceived as a sort of prototype for who I thought Mordred Le Fey would be in the ToA universe. But since canon is technically still ongoing and the ToA writers could still bring Mordred into the picture, I decided to adapt him into the original character Rivan (whose name will be properly revealed in the next chapter).

Beside her, Douxie’s aura was rippling with unease. But a moment later, his spirit stilled, and he put an arm around her to turn her away from the alley...

...A minute later, the crosswalk signal changed once more, and they continued on their way. Though Douxie’s spirit was radiating a placid energy, Nari couldn’t help noticing that he kept his arm around her for the rest of the journey.

It was important to me that Douxie not look like a complete idiot in this scene, which was a little difficult since this part isn’t told from his perspective. Homeboy absolutely knows better than to ignore something suspicious like this. But he is also acting as Nari’s brother/guardian in this scene, so he tries to play it off to keep her from worrying too much. He promised her a fun day in Central Park, and he’s not willing to bail on that just yet. But I’m hoping that the fact that he has to force his aura into a state of calm and physically holds Nari close to him as they walk are good indicators that he has gone on high alert.

And that’s a wrap for this week! Next Friday, all hell is gonna break loose, so definitely come back for that. If you have any questions/comments, definitely hit me up either in my Ask Box or over on Ao3. As always, thanks for reading! ✨💕

[juniperwindsong]

Necessary Monsters (9/16)

A/N: This chapter and the next were originally one, but the length got away from me and it had to be separated. So this story has been changed to 16 chapters (guess that can be good or bad news depending on how much you want this story to be over).

Summary: Better sense is screaming at Felix that this is possibly the worst idea he's ever had, that he's about to undo all the progress he's made. But though his better sense has maintained the upper hand most of the last year, thirty minutes with Juniper is enough to send it packing to the very back of his mind...

 “Allow me to introduce my son, Felix.” The Rosier Patriarch offers the young woman’s hand to his son, who accepts and bends over it stiffly, making eye contact for only the briefest second. "I believe you two have quite a bit in common. I'll leave you to chat."

   Felix twists his mouth into what passes for a smile at these sort of society parties, while inwardly he groans. His father's attempts to facilitate interactions with pure-blood girls are usually more adroit. But with his first year as a Dragonologist in Peru a success and with no plans to return to England anytime soon, Felix supposes his father is getting a bit desperate.

   Felix glances at the clock on the mantle, mentally calculating how much longer before he can leave without disturbing propriety.

   "You are an alchemist, then?"

   The voice, low for a woman and shaded by a light, lilting accent, startles Felix, as does the unusual question.

   "I beg your pardon?"

   "An alchemist," the young woman repeats. She's the same height as Felix and meets his eyes steadily. "Your father is sure we will have much in common, you and I. I assume that means you are an alchemist, also?"

   Felix permits himself the smallest of smirks. "I'm afraid not. My father is under the impression that being pure-blood is the only important commonality between any two people."

   "I see." The young woman flicks dark, wavy tresses over her shoulder and smiles, revealing a dimple in one cheek. "Then we have one thing in common after all. My parents are also, as the English say, old-fashioned."

   She winks. Dark lashes flutter over dark eyes, and Felix takes his first serious look at Aurelie Dumont. 

   Felix knows he would not usually be permitted to sequester himself in a corner, making interesting conversation with a single person while the party drags on around him. His father pokes his head round the corner every quarter hour to scrutinise the pair of them, but this is more amusing than annoying to Felix. For once, he’s in the company of someone else who notices and understands and laughs quietly alongside him. Felix spends the entire evening with Aurelie, who stays long past the fashionable hour, and when she finally takes her leave, it's with the promise of a letter to follow.

-

   Aurelie does write, and Felix writes back. It isn't the comfortable, easy correspondence he shares with Juniper; it's something altogether different. It's titillating, exchanging flirtations with a beautiful, intelligent woman, interested in Felix in a way no beautiful, intelligent woman has ever been before. And it isn't long before the desire to see her again wins out. Leave from Peru isn't easy, but Felix manages, trekking miles to designated apparition points to visit Aurelie in France whenever he has time to spare, sometimes for only a single evening.

   In spite of their mutual interest in each other, their first time together is awkward and unnerving. Felix does his best, but he feels certain he has not quite met Aurelie’s well-established standard; something about her desire for distance through the night and her rapid retreat the next morning. As with everything in life, Felix resolves to work harder, do better, and eventually achieve his customary level of perfection. He does what research he's able, pays more attention to the fireside conversations of the other men on his team, even daring a few well-placed and casual questions. 

   But instead of becoming more comfortable with time, each liaison seems to drive them further apart. Felix began to dread the uneasy silence that sags between them as they lay next to each other in the dark, and is always relieved when Aurelie takes her leave swiftly afterward. Her interest in him seems to cool distinctly as the year progresses. She has absolutely no desire to visit him in Peru, and can no longer even feign an interest in dragons or his work, except to mention rather pointedly in one curt letter how "all that" will need to be wrapped up before they can be married.

   At this, Felix balks. He's always known this was the endgame for the two of them - he has a shrewd idea both families have already decided on dates and divided up holidays - but the idea of abandoning his newfound freedom for a lifetime laying next to this woman, cold and beautiful and sharp as a diamond, is utterly terrifying. Instead, Felix throws himself into his correspondence with Juniper, who points out that Aurelie isn't the only eligible, pureblood woman in the world. She reminds him he's hardly done any serious investigation into the subject, and encourages him to hold out.

   "There's got to be at least one pure-blood girl out there with a passing interest in dragons. It'd be a shame for you to settle for someone that can't appreciate all your talent," she writes, in a letter Felix folds and unfolds so many times the parchment eventually falls into pieces he has to tape back together. He can’t stop re-reading it. The words make him glow. Aurelie's early letters teem with tantalising coquetry, but Juniper simply declares her compliments like established points of fact. If Aurelie is a diamond, then Juniper is a dragon egg; rougher and hotter, a different sort of object altogether, but infinitely more precious to Felix.

   Felix can't imagine Juniper ever permitting a chilly silence to blow between them as they lay in bed together. Juniper, with her easy laughs and natural way of setting people at ease, would know exactly what to say to make those moments beautiful and memorable, even if he doesn't. They're hard for Felix to picture with no good point of reference, but he feels instinctively that nights with Juniper would be better.

   Which is what makes the aftermath of their brief tryst so much harder to bear.

-

   Felix returns to work as usual, but there’s an ache inside him he cannot soothe, like a miniature dragon tooth lodged in his flesh. Unbearable waves of longing and pain beat against him every minute of the day, exhausting him and keeping his fractured nerves on fire. True focus is impossible. He's caught between an unquenchable thirst for Juniper and resonating, bitter anger for the way she’s treated him. After every sacrifice he’s made for her, Juniper is unwilling even to try. He didn't know it was possible to hate and love somebody so fiercely and simultaneously.

   I don't want things to change. Her words kick at his already bruised brain. Somehow, in spite of everything he had done, he still had not been good enough. On some level, Felix knows it must be his fault. He should never have let that night occur. He had rushed in senselessly, swept away by emotion, just as he had the night she'd been attacked. How might everything have been different if he'd only listened to his common sense? The regret makes him physically ill.

   Juniper's first letter arrives a week after his return, and Felix can't prevent his heart leaping into his throat when he recognises the hand-writing. For a few wild minutes, as he finds a quiet spot and tears into the envelope with shaky fingers, he's convinced everything will be fixed. Surely Juniper will be fit to burst with desperate apologies and confessions of feelings she was too muddled to express before. But as Felix scans the lines eagerly, his hopes are dashed. It's a few dutiful paragraphs about Juniper's return to the Khanna tree farm, her reconciliation with her friends, some minor improvement in her hands as she focuses on her healing once more, and her subsequent decision to return to school. She's breezy and pleasant, as if nothing remotely intimate had ever passed between them. Felix throws the offensive parchment into the fire, then spends the evening meticulously reassembling the ashes.

   His late night craft project makes Felix late for the next day's shift, and it’s a testament to his genuine enervation that he doesn't even notice. Nor does he notice the eyes of his Senior Dragonologist following him as he wanders into the Peruvian Vipertooth habitat an hour past his scheduled time. Felix goes through the motions of inspecting his dragon, instructing his team of assistants in a weary, hollow voice, entirely oblivious to his superior's expression of growing concern. It isn't until Felix fails to notice the tell-tale signs of impending flame from the mercurial young Vipertooth and has to be yanked out of harm’s way by a terrified assistant that Luis Rashbold steps in. Barking orders over his shoulder to the rest of the team, Rashbold heaves his junior dragonologist out of the fray by the back of his neck, and half-drags him across the grounds to a carefully concealed paddock.

   The simple covered lean-to serves as a hidden observation deck for researchers and other less daring visitors to the Reserve. One long window looks out over the grounds, offering a splendid view of the team of wizards now stunning the legs out from under the rampaging she-dragon, but the paddock's various enchantments prevent anyone outside seeing within. 

   Rashbold tosses an indignantly spluttering Felix onto one of the paddock's three-legged stools.

   "Alright, talk," demands the bulky dragonologist, looming over Felix, fists on hips.

   Felix straightens on the low seat, glaring at Rashbold with what little dignity he can scrounge up.

   "What are you on about?"

   "Pack it in that," Rashbold scolds. "You nearly had it back there! A blind streeler could have dodged that flame, yet my junior dragonologist wants the aid of a bunch of teenagers to keep himself kickin'. What in Merlin's name's going on with you?”

    Felix rubs the back of his neck mulishly. "I'm just..tired. Not enough sleep last night."

    "Rubbish. You've been shirty and careless for a week now, ever since you got back from your little furlough. You can't possibly be this bad at your job, or you'd never have survived Peru."

   Felix pushes off from the stool brusquely.

   "It won't happen again," he assures his superior, voice dripping with obsequious sarcasm, but Rashbold refuses to be goaded.  

   "It will," he replies coolly,"If you don't get whatever's eating you off your mind. Keep this up and you're going to get yourself killed. And you can't even imagine the paperwork nightmare that is."

    Felix says nothing. He squares up against Rashbold, calculating his chances of successfully pushing past the much larger man and reaching the exit.

   "It's that girl, isn't it. The one you went to see?" pries Rashbold doggedly, ignoring Felix's murderous look. "I can put two and two together as well as the next bloke. She turned you down, didn't she? Or called it off?"

   It's no good, concludes Felix bitterly; even if he were in peak condition, there's no way he could draw his wand on Rashbold before the brawny man knocked it from his hand. Instead, Felix emits a noise somewhere between disgust and exasperation and storms off to the window. He watches the technicians conduct routine scale care on the now unconscious dragon, and waits for the heat in his face to cool. He doesn't really expect his little tantrum to defeat the obstinate Rashbold, and he braces himself for further inquisition. He’s therefore caught off guard when Rashbold speaks again in a voice oddly gruff and choked, as if trying to force a soothing tone through a throat not constructed for it.

   "C'mon, mate. It happens to the best of us. Nothing to be ashamed of. It's hell, but we've all been there, haven't we? It’ll be right."

   Tears, something Felix has managed to avoid for so much of his life and now finds himself constantly threatened by, prick at the corners of his eyes. He wishes Rashbold would yell at him or berate him, even draw his wand. Felix has defences for all of those things. He has no armour for this sort of camaraderie.

   "You don't know what you're talking about," Felix tries to snarl, but it comes out too wet to be threatening.

   There's a pause, then the scrape of a stool being pulled across ground, and the creaking protest of wood as Rashbold settles his bulk into it.

    "Alright then. Tell it me."

   It's neither sarcastic nor saccharine. Just a plain invitation. And words slip out from around the growing lump in Felix's throat before he can even decide what to say. Ironically, it reminds him of conversations with Juniper in his final year at Hogwarts. She, too, had a knack for wrenching Felix's voice from him without his conscious consent, as though she knew a secret password to his thoughts he didn't know existed. 

   To Felix's own astonishment, he finds himself confessing nearly everything to do with Juniper, from his first inkling of feeling for an unlikely fourteen year old, to his arrival at her Quidditch match, and the horrid mess that followed. But when he reaches the final part of the story, something stops him short. Some piece of well-honed propriety simply will not allow him to discuss that with this man he barely knows.

   "I didn't know where else to go so I took her back to the Leaky Cauldron and I...we... had a discussion. I...made it clear how I felt about her, that I loved her. But...she said...she didn't want things to change."

    Felix takes a deep shuddering breath. All this uncharacteristic openness makes him woozy and in need of a sit, but he isn't ready to turn and face Rashbold just yet. He hears whining notes of concern from the stool indicating the large body on it has shifted positions.

   "Nah, you don't."

   Felix cocks his head, wondering if he hasn't understood Rashbold around his heavy accent.

   "Don't what?" 

   "You don't love this girl," declares Rashbold broadly. It's such a strange response to everything Felix has just said that it takes a minute for him to interpret it as an insult and allow defensive anger to rear its head.

   "Yes, I do!" he protests, whipping around to face Rashbold defiantly. The bulky man has his long legs kicked out in front of him and his arms behind his head, in a supremely relaxed manner that Felix is sure must be for show since he can't possibly be comfortable balancing all his weight on that ridiculously small stool.

   "Nah, mate. You love the idea of this girl," Rashbold explains, and his need to appear so at ease in the face of Felix's heart-rending story makes Felix's blood boil. He stares daggers at Rashbold, but the older man only continues coaxingly, "C'mon, mate. You couldn't even name two things you liked about her beside what? She's smart, kind, beautiful? Anyone you catch the bug for sounds like that. I'm not insulting your girl." He holds up a conciliatory hand, catching sight of Felix's flared nostrils. "I'm sure she's lovely and all, when she's not being a bit of a drama queen, but the rest? All that stuff you love about her? It's all made up in your head." 

   Rashbold suddenly sits up, propping his arms on his knees. "Tell me this. What's her favourite colour, your girl?”

    Felix blinks. "What?"

   "Her favourite colour," Rashbold repeats, very slowly and deliberately as if to a small child "The colour she likes best. What is it?"

   It's such an insipid question, Felix actually snorts before giving his memory a quick scan. A favourite colour? Surely that had come up naturally in conversation once, or been mentioned off-hand in a letter? But if it had, Felix can't call the information to mind. Panicking slightly, he grabs hold of the colour she sports in the majority of his memories:

   "Green! She's always wearing green."

   A supercilious smile crosses Rashbold's face.

    "That's house colours mate. Not the same thing.” He changes tact before Felix can argue. “How does she take her tea, then?"

   This time, Felix pales a little. He's seen Juniper drink tea, on multiple occasions. Had she put anything in it? Probably. He's never noticed.

   "How about a favourite meal? Or favourite Quidditch team?" Rashbold inquires, that infuriating smile still playing about his lips. "Do you know where she lives? Her parents’ names? Do you even know her full name?”

   "What does any of that matter?” Felix bursts in agitation, "That's all - that's just...little things. They’re not important."

   "No, mate." Rashbold shakes his head, the condescending smile replaced by a look of uncharacteristic earnestness. "That little stuff, that's everything. That's who people really are. A bunch of little quirks and preferences and opinions all jumbled together. If you don't know all the little things about someone, you don't really know them at all. Just an idea of them. It’s like fancying a celebrity in a magazine. You don’t love them as a person, you just love their picture and all the stuff you’ve imagined about them."

   Rashbold stands, ignoring Felix’s open-mouthed umbrage, and brushes off his trousers briskly. “You'll be right, mate. Trust me. Give it a few weeks, it'll all fade and you’ll be back in business. Just try not to get yourself burnt to crisp before then."

   He claps a burly hand to Felix’s shoulder briefly, dark eyes twinkling, before striding from the paddock.

   -

   Righteous indignation toward Rashbold takes the place of Felix’s regularly scheduled misery for the rest of the day. What does Rashbold know about him and Juniper? Absolutely nothing. And it isn’t his business anyway, great nosy git. And what was he, Felix, playing at telling the older man things he’s never confessed to anyone before? This whole situation must truly be driving him mad.

   But for all his justified resentment toward Rashbold, part of Felix can’t help but feel touched at the older man’s interest in him, his willingness to sit and listen to what Felix had to say. It's a rare enough occurrence. The only other person who has ever been quite so conscientious about Felix's emotional well-being was, well, Juniper. 

   And Rashbold's blunt words suddenly click into place in Felix’s head.

   What if he's right? thinks Felix as he tosses and turns on his camp bed that night. After all, aren’t his favourite letters from Juniper the ones where she talks about him? Complimenting him? Comforting him? Ruminating on their correspondence, Felix realises they hardly ever discuss Juniper herself, beyond her illicit Cursed Vault adventures and his constant admonitions that she stay safe. He’s always thought he knew Juniper better than nearly anyone, that was why he loved her, after all; but maybe what he really loved was having someone who cared about him. 

    Felix rolls over and folds his arms behind his head. What does he know about Juniper, then? Well, that she’s impulsive and reckless, talented, but with a rather short attention span, shrewd as any Slytherin when it comes to solving mysteries, yet somehow oblivious to anyone or anything that doesn’t matter to her at that moment, including schoolwork. Nearly the opposite of him in every way, when it comes right down to it. The more Felix mulls it over, the more he realises the Juniper he's in love with is mostly fantasy, a character he built in his head. The loss of which might be disappointing, but it's nothing he can't recover from because, in the end, it isn’t real. 

   It isn't real.

   Felix repeats this idea like a mantra until sleep rescues him from further thought. And for the next months, he applies the phrase like a burn salve against his thoughts every time longing or grief threatens him.

    Juniper’s letters keep coming; every week at first, then every month once her final year of school begins. But for the first time since his graduation, Felix does not write back. He reads her accounts of her continued recovery and her inevitable adventures and practices maintaining an appropriate emotional distance.

    Juniper informs him of her resignation as Slytherin Quidditch captain in favour of Skye Parkin, thus ending her illustrious school Quidditch career. It isn't real, Felix scolds the subsequent wriggle of pleasure at the idea of her spending significantly less time with Murphy McNully or Charlie Weasley. 

  Juniper is drawn back into the Cursed Vaults, as always, matching wits and wands with R once again. It isn't real, Felix reminds himself as worry for her safety guts him. She's a talented witch, fully of age, able to make her own bad decisions and it's no skin off his nose if she's hurt. 

    As the year draws to a close, the pain begins to fade, like scar tissue closing over a wound; until he can think of Juniper and feel nearly nothing, so long as he doesn't prod his feelings too forcefully.

    Christmas comes and goes. Juniper tactfully neglects to mention their plans to see each other over the holiday in her December letter. Felix feels slightly guilty. It's the first year since he left school he hasn't sent her anything for Christmas, but he puts it out of his mind. She has plenty of friends, he assures himself, he doubts she'll even notice. 

    The new year drags on bleak and chill. For whatever reason, The Reserve doesn't fill Felix with the same elation Peru did. For the first time in years, he's stuck in one place, and largely alone, with nothing to occupy his newly acquired free time. For something to do, Felix begins to write. Publication is a requirement before one can apply for a Senior Dragonologist position. For the last four years, Felix has kept a notebook full of ideas and research topics for papers and even books he tells himself he'll write when he has the time. Now he does. He spends most of his spare moments writing and researching, but his enthusiasm for the enterprise quickly wanes. 

    As much as he tells himself he shouldn't, Felix misses talking to Juniper. Occasionally, he toys with the idea of replying to one of the letters she continues to send. It's been enough time now, he hardly feels anything at all toward her. What could it hurt? Only it's been so long since she heard from him last, Felix can't think of any way to begin a letter without addressing his extended silence, and the reason for it, and all his attempts end up crumpled in the waste bin.

    True, Felix's fire for Juniper has been essentially smothered, his iron self-discipline has seen to that. But he can't help the occasional fantasy of Juniper appearing at the Reserve unexpectedly, concerned about his silence, and throwing her arms around him in joy the way she had after the Quidditch match last spring. He reminds himself dutifully that it isn’t real love that generates this, just a desire to feel something, anything to break up the monotony of time cards and paperwork. But he allows it, if only for something to occupy his mind. Which is why, as he tromps through the dirty snow after his shift one particularly blustery morning, Felix doesn't immediately register the sight of Juniper waiting for him at the end of the path as real. She trots about in place, arms wrapped around herself, clearly freezing. Her head is tucked into her chest, hiding from the wind as best she can in her inadequate coat, so she doesn't notice Felix's tentative approach.

     "Juniper?" he asks in disbelief.

    The young woman looks up and smiles; a lop-sided grin Felix would recognise anywhere. She stomps through the snow toward where Felix has stopped in his tracks. His brain is no longer able to control his limbs, every cell engaged in reconciling Juniper's presence with reality. 

    "What - how-" Felix splutters as she marches nearer until she’s close enough for him to make out the individual snowflakes dotting the top of her head. "What are you doing here?" he somehow manages to ask.

    "Waiting for you. Or that’s what I’m doing out here in the cold anyway. That man from the office - your office, I mean -he said you'd be back soon so I thought I’d try to catch you."

    Felix's mouth opens and closes like a fish, while Juniper shivers and hunches deeper into her thin coat.

    “Can we talk somewhere else? Warmer maybe?” 

-

    A dream, this must be a dream, thinks Felix. He's dreaming he's at the Reserve's only pub, sitting just across from a windswept Juniper attempting to breathe life back into her frozen fingers. The barman deposits two mugs of the locally popular warm, spiced Butterbeer, and Juniper wraps her hands around it gratefully. Felix can only stare. After a minute of strained silence, he pulls his mug toward him and takes a long swallow. The liquid scalds the roof of his mouth. Which has to mean he's awake. Which means Juniper really is here, in front of him. A bubbling excitement brews in his chest that his mantra cannot extinguish.

   “The real reason I’m here,” explains Juniper into her mug, “is...for a job interview." 

    Felix chokes on his second sip. He coughs into his hands while Juniper stares determinedly at the table, clenching her Butterbeer so tightly her knuckles are white. 

    “You’re a dragonologist now, then?” asks Felix once his spluttering subsides.

   “No,” Juniper says, still refusing to meet Felix's eye. “I...wanted to apply for the open healing position here. I’m doing better, quite a bit better, actually.” She nods at her hands wrapped around the mug, and it registers to Felix for the first time how still they are. “But St Mungo's only offers a limited number of intern positions to students out of school, and I know I won't score near high enough to get in. That was really sort of my whole post-school plan, on the off-chance I ever made it out alive. So I'm looking into alternatives, and Professor Snape mentioned this job. Apparently, the qualifications for healers here are a bit lax. I guess they sort of...take anyone they can get, so I thought I'd apply. But... I wanted to talk to you about it first.”

   Juniper's words seem to be reaching Felix's brain on a delay, so she has time to take another long swig of Butterbeer before Felix has processed her final statement.

   "About what?" he asks belatedly.

   "About the job. I mean...I won’t take it if you don’t want me to."

   "Why...wouldn't I want you to take a job?" Felix asks slowly. Some combination of the cold and the surreality of Juniper's very presence makes him feel slow and stupid. He can't understand what she's asking of him. Juniper finally lifts her head fully, her expression unreadable.

   "Felix, you haven’t written all year."

   It's Felix's turn to stare into his frothing mug. He raises it to his mouth, hiding as much of his face as he can.

   "Yes, about that. I’ve been rather busy. I'm so-"

   "You don't have to apologise," Juniper interjects hastily.  "I understand. Completely. I didn't mean - I mean, I deserved it, and... you've had all this to get used to and I'm sure it's really overwhelming. I only meant - you know - this is your space, and if you don't want me to...intrude on it, I won't."

     Pink patches that have nothing to do with cold appear on her cheeks as Juniper hides herself in her coat, and something about her obvious discomfort starts a primal fire inside Felix's stomach. It's a feeling he hasn't had in so long, and it jumpstarts his sluggish mental faculties. 

   "Not at all," Felix tells her. Juniper shoots a confused look at him and he clarifies, "I mean, I don't mind. At all. In fact, I think it's an excellent idea."

   Juniper makes a valiant effort to raise her eyebrows. "You do?"

   "Yes," Felix replies, an almost giddy smile appearing on his face at her familiar expression. He hides it behind a hand, tilted in front of his mouth in a gesture of thoughtfulness. "I think it'd be good for you to get out of the country for a bit. You'd do quite well here. You're not scared of dragons, good under pressure. And we can't seem to keep a healer."

   "Yeah, that's what the director said. Guivré."

   "You've met Guivré ?"

   "Yeah, for the interview." Juniper leans forward in her seat, warming to their conversation. "He didn't even seem to care about the fact that I haven't taken the NEWTs yet, and he didn't ask anything about my marks. Wouldn't even look at my transcripts. He just asked about the Cursed Vaults, mostly. And that time with the common welsh green in my third year."

   Felix no longer bothers to hide his grin. "That sounds about right. That's exactly the sort of person he is. He believes experience is a better teacher than education. So, you've already had the interview, then?"

   Juniper colours once more and retreats back into her coat. "Um...yeah. Yeah, I did first thing this morning. Sorry, I did want to talk to you first, but-"

   Felix overrides her apology. "Did he mention whether he liked you for the job or not?"

   Juniper takes a shallow, shaky breath. "Yes, actually. He - he said it's mine if I want it." She tries to purse her lips over a proud smile. "But I told him I had to think about it."

   "Take it."

   For the first time that day, Juniper meets Felix's eyes.

   "You’re sure?"

   "Positive."

    Both their faces flush with heat at the memory of the last time this word passed between them. Felix looks away first, clearing his throat.

   "Alright. I will then," Juniper says. "Thank you.” She takes another sip of butterbeer, holding the mug close to her body as if relishing the heat or the ability to keep the mug upright, while Felix's brain goes to war. 

  Better sense is screaming at Felix that this is possibly the worst idea he's ever had, that he's about to undo all the progress he's made. But though his better sense has maintained the upper hand most of the last year, thirty minutes with Juniper is enough to send it packing to the very back of his mind where its screams sound more like squeaks, leaving Felix free to revel in the sense of elation blossoming through him at the idea of living in close proximity to Juniper once again. 

    "So," Juniper interrupts Felix's musings, " Guivré didn’t mention where people live while they’re here? Does everyone...apparate in, or...?" 

    "Some do, yes. There’s limited housing on the Reserve itself, but there's a few buildings they've turned into flats. Dragonologists generally have seniority, then the assistants and researchers and everyone else."

    "Oh." Juniper falls silent, picking at a spot on the table with a fingernail, and it takes Felix a minute to understand what her nerves are about.

    "I'm sure I can get you a place on the grounds. In case you'd rather not apparate."

    "I can," she insists. "If I have to. It's not a big deal, it's just...I'm not really supposed to do it all the time, and-"

    "It's not a problem," Felix assures her. "I'll figure something out." He basks in the glow of Juniper's wide, grateful smile. And a brilliant idea occurs to Felix that makes his demoted better sense absolutely livid.

-

    "You sure about this?" asks the nervous young assistant, staring at the proferred key as though it were likely to turn into a snake and strike him.

    "Yes, Lambton, I'm sure and please don't ask again," says Felix trying hard to keep exasperation from his voice. He dangles the key out to the gawky teenager.

    "But...you're sure this is allowed? The Upper Flats are for proper dragonologists. Won't I be out of place?"

    Felix grits his teeth. "Don't you want to be a proper dragonologist yourself one day?"

    "Yeah, o' course."

    "Well, then," Felix cajoles, "how better to learn than to live with proper dragonologists? You can make friends, get extra help on your research. It'll be a major stepping stone for your career!" 

    " 'Spose that's true..." Felix watches the boy's dull eyes light up slowly at the prospect. He reaches out for Felix's key and fishes in a pocket for his own.

    "But...why would you want to live in the Lower Flats?" Lambton asks, holding his key out to Felix. "They're absolute shite, you know."

     "Never you mind," snaps Felix, snatching the key from Lambton's twitchy fingers.

-

    Those Dragonologists wishing to save a bit of money and be as close to their dragons as possible are usually put up in the Upper Flats, an old but dignified building that had probably once been a large manor house before the Reserve bought the land. It's nearly always cold, and not lavishly furnished, but it passes for comfort and the Dragonologists have little complaints; or if they do, they simply move on as soon as they're able. 

    The Lower Flats is the cruel moniker given the ramshackle building just down the path from the Upper Flats. No one knows what, if any, sort of building it had been before the Reserve got hold of it and added on stories and side rooms with whatever materials were to hand, but it now has more in common with Frankenstein's monster than any traditional forms of architecture. These flats are given to assistants and researchers, or any Reserve staff members or visitors the director wants to get rid of.  Lambton, being the most recent addition to the Reserve, had a top three-bedroom flat all to himself. However, once another new low-level employee arrived, such as a healer, he'd be forced to share. That is, until Felix graciously offered to swap flats with the young man for reasons Felix is well aware of and is determined not to think about too closely. 

   Felix has heard assistants complain long and often about how the building ought to be condemned, but he's always assumed them to be exaggerating. Right up to the moment his foot smashes through one of the rough hewn planks serving as stairs. It takes Felix a disproportionate amount of time to reach the top floor, as he carefully circumvents the more wobbly "steps", presumably held in place by magic, but not a particularly trustworthy sort. At the top of the winding staircase, he nudges what passes for a door open with his foot. The wood slab separates from the frame with a horrid screeching sound, swinging inward to reveal squalor Felix was previously unaware humans could live in.

    He gulps as he steps inside with exceptional caution. There a disconcerting number of burn-holes in the floorboards. The walls are covered in an uneven layer of green fuzz that on closer inspection appears to be the remains of old, peeling wall paper. There's a sofa in the great room that's predominately springs, and a simple unlikely mattress is the only furniture provided in each of the bedrooms. But even the thick layers of cobwebs decorating the corners isn't enough to kill Felix's growing excitement. It'll be work, but he's always been excellent at those household-y sort of spells, and it will give him something to occupy his time until Juniper arrives. Felix settles into his renovation project in higher spirits than he's had in months.

    Unable to wait for June to reveal the news to Juniper, Felix starts up their correspondence once more. He informs her he's found her a room on the Reserve, and mentions in passing that it's in the same flat as his, neglecting to illuminate any of the circumstances that have made such a happy coincidence possible. Juniper's response is as enthusiastic as he could have hoped. She makes the expected number of jokes about his newly reinstated status as her live-in prefect followed by a more serious assurance that she's "really glad" to be near him again. Felix is just worrying his cheekbones might fracture from the force of his smile when her next line forces the bottom out of his stomach.

    "I forgot to mention I have a friend who'll be coming to the Reserve this summer, as well! He got a job as a junior assistant the same time as me, so I imagine he'll be living near us if there's room. I've mentioned him before, not sure if you remember. Charlie Weasley?"

-

Chapter 10 | Masterpost

[akinnie75]

The Tale of a No Body

Pair: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Slight Angst, Slow Burn, Fantasy, Mildly Tragic, Pinocchio!AU

Word Count: 25.3k

Summary: Would you still fall in love with Taehyung, even if he isn’t the real one?

Note: Taehyung is the FAKE one, and V is the REAL one.

There never was a normal way to describe what kind of person your father was, so it was always the most difficult question to answer whenever people ask. Even till this day, it’s complicated pinpointing exactly who he was, and the reason why you feel conscious is because you know what kind of face they’ll make when you tell them that he’s a self-acclaimed black magician who is obsessed with V from BTS.

And when you do respond that he’s simply a black magician—because mentioning his unhealthy fascination over V would be too strange to bring up in any conversation—either they’ll have no idea who he is, or they’ll call him ‘the guy who made the hoax video of reviving a dead mouse.’ He wanted to prove to everyone that black magic exists and became blinded by the possibility of fame, so he killed a mouse for the sake of returning it back to life and posting a video of it onto the internet.

What he was not expecting was the excessive amount of negative reactions. Though the experiment was a success, no one believed him. Your father was the face of mockery for weeks, scientists rejecting his beliefs without giving him a proper chance to express his side of the argument, and people tore down his video, making their analysis videos/articles explaining why your father is a hoax. Others focused on the animal rights aspect, putting him down for animal cruelty by killing the mouse for the sake of his own personal gains. There was even a petition for your father to be put to jail, but fortunately for him, there were no police actually involved with the situation.

With all of this unsupportive feedback, your father became more reclusive by hiding himself in his basement. You two have hardly ever say a word to each other for years, and it’s partly because you became too conscious being around him, especially after what the general public has made of him. You two barely speak that you can’t remember the exact day when he first asked you about V.

What you do remember is coming home one day to find him waiting for you by the front door. There were no greetings, just a ‘I hear a lot about V from this Korean music group, BTS. Do you know anything about him?’ You didn’t think too much about the question back then. Almost everyone knew who BTS is, so it’s not a surprise that your father would eventually find out about them. However, you’re not as much as a hardcore fan compared to the other girls in your school, you’ve just heard about them from your classmates.

Since then, he would ask you to research more about V by befriending fans and searching on the internet. He began printing dozens upon dozens of photos of V, pasting them to the wall and admiring him as if he is a work of art. Whenever he brought up V, it was always about how gorgeous he is. His physical appearance was perfect in your father’s standards, ogling V more than he ever did with your mother before she left him.

Had you known what your father had in store, you would’ve done anything to stop him. However, you wanted nothing to do with your father, so you never bothered talking to him unless it was about V. It wasn’t until in high school when there was something off about him. He’s always been a strange person, but that day specifically was peculiar. Despite that, it took you days to realize that there was a horrid stench protruding from the other side of the basement door, so out of curiosity, you finally decide to see what was happening downstairs. Opening the door only release the unfathomable smell that you’ve never smelled before.

Pinching your nose and taking one slow step down at a time, you were face-to-face with your father’s lifeless body decaying on the cold, cement floor. His eyes are still open, but they’ve sunk deeper into his eye sockets, and his lips as pale as his white skin, absent of blood.

The sight of your father’s body is enough to make you forget that he smelled of rotting flesh, having lost all strength in your knees and collapsing due to shock. But that wasn’t the only horrifying discovery in the basement—two wide eyes stare at you behind the shadows of the other wall. The eyes reflect a clean shine that you knew that they were no ordinary human eyes.

A deep voice croaks out from the shadows, getting louder the longer those artificial-like eyes stare at you. You cover your ears, your entire body trembling with the thought that there hides a monster. The stairs are next to you, but you’re too frozen in fear to move your feet. The voice only groans louder, the sound of the unknown monster moving closer to you.

A loud clatter rumbles, making you flinch and squeeze your eyes shut. You peek one eye open to see that the monster had been lying on a metal table and fell off in an attempt to reach out to you. Rather than a monster...it was something else. The hand that tries to reach out to you has plastic ball-joints that helps curl its fingers. It’s a lifesize body is made of vinyl, with the joints in the elbows and knees made of plastic balls to make the rotation of the limbs smoother.

Watching it stare at you with its artificial eyes, you can see its bottom lips moving up and down ever so slightly as if calling out to you. And that was the moment when you realized that your father’s years of obsession over V was for the sole purpose of replicating him into doll form. The resemblance was spot on with the exception of his body being to closer being that of a ball-joint doll.

That day, you learned that conducting black magic has its consequences: enabling black magic is the manipulation of the spiritual forces around you. Whoever bends what is originally natural in exchange for your own personal desires will receive negative karma. And that discovery you found is the result of your father’s selfish desires to prove that he truly is a black magician in exchange for bringing a doll to life—a doll who looks just like V.

------

Your shift has finally ended, so you stand up and grab your bag. It’s already late into the evening, and there aren’t that many people left in the office. Unlike the rest of the desks that are filled with Christmas-themed decorations, there isn’t much in your cubicle other than your computer and office supplies, so you never worry about forgetting anything. You walk out to the elevator to go down to the main lobby and leave.

Just after you press the down button, you hear a male voice calling your name. You turn around and see three of your coworkers, two females and one male. You’ve been working with them for a couple of years now, but you still have trouble remembering their names.

“(Y/N), were you just heading out?” The male asks.

You nod, staring down at the ground. “Y-yea, I am.”

“We were wondering if you’d like to eat dinner with us. We’re going to that Mongolian grill place just off the freeway.” One of the female asks.

“I’m okay. I have to head back home.”

“Aw, your boyfriend waiting for you?” The male asks teasingly.

“No.”

The sign above the elevator lights up and dings as it opens.

“Good work today. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

You enter the elevator with your head down as you don’t want to see their faces. Your negativity plays with you when you see their faces. You were never really good at reading expressions in the first place ever since you were a child and you were always conscious that everything you say will upset the other person. Because of that, you could never find yourself to get along with your coworkers. Confrontation was something you were never really good at.

But that isn’t the only reason. You feel anxious whenever you’re out of the house for too long, that foreboding feeling crawling up your skin as your paranoia mixes with your imagination. Restlessness overwhelms you if you don’t head straight back home after work. So no matter how much you isolate yourself, it doesn’t matter because there’s something more important than making friends.

------

You enter your home through the front door, letting a peek of the winter breeze inside before shutting it off from completely blanketing your home. You take off your shoes and coat, sighing as you felt like you were about to freeze outside. Winter is no saint, and if you had stayed longer, then you wouldn’t be able to feel your fingertips anymore. You breathe hot air into your hands and rub them together to get the blood circulating again.

“Taehyung.” You say in a light voice.

In the living room, Taehyung turns his head around when he hears your voice. He sets down his journal and pencil that he was just using then approaches you. The first thing he does is wrap his plastic-like arms around you, just as he always does as a greeting whenever you finish work. You return the hug, then he pulls himself back.

“Welcome home. How was work?”

“Fine. What were you up to just now?”

“Journal entry.”

You set your bag down and take off your shoes before walking to the living room. You sit on your knees in front of the coffee table as you flip through Taehyung’s journal. The latest entry is just like any other—he was looking through the window and watching people and animals passing through the neighborhood. He wrote all the people that he saw, including the old woman who walks her five dogs every morning and that one kid who’s always ditching class to be by himself.

In the last paragraph, Taehyung says that he came across a stray cat in the backyard. He said that he tried playing with it, thinking that it’d be like those playful cat videos. However, the cat ended up being frightened by him and scratched him.

“A cat scratched you? Where?”

Taehyung rolls up his sleeve and reveals numerous scars all over his forearm. He points to the newest scratch mark, three thin lines from his elbow down to this wrist. You take him by the hand, stroking your index and middle finger down the mark as you stare at his past scars.

“I need to replace your arm soon. It’s starting to wear out.”

Taehyung nods, wrapping his scarred hand over his other arm. Unlike the first arm, this one is completely wooden, not the same one that your father previously gave him. You look up at his crystal eyes, noticing some smudges and dusk in it. You grab cotton cloth from nearby and begin wiping the, and he doesn’t blink at all when you clean them.

“How can you see with your eyes that dirty? You’re lucky there are artificial limbs nowadays to replace, but what am I going to do when you lose an eye?” You scold him with a soft voice. “How come you never clean your own eyes?”

Taehyung’s expression doesn’t change—just the same stoic expression he’s always had since the day you found him. The only things that ever move are his eyes when he’s observing something or his mouth moving up and down when he speaks.

“Because I like it when you do it.”

You heave a sigh and smile at his innocence. “I know, but you have to learn how to take care of yourself sometimes too. There are going to be times when I’m not there for you.”

He doesn’t say anything, only staring blankly at the carpet. Because his face can’t make expressions, you can never read what he’s thinking. But you do know enough about Taehyung to somewhat have an idea of what he might be thinking about.

To make the mood lighter, you decide to change the subject. “Did you let the cat inside?”

He nods. “I tried, but it left when it saw me.”

“That’s too bad.”

It’s been eight years since your father created Taehyung. Shortly after finding him, you held a small funeral. A few number of people on the internet made fun of his death—saying that he probably killed himself because he thought he could revive himself while others say that he deserves it for being an insane person.

However, that was the least of your worries because you had Taehyung to worry about. In the beginning, you were terrified of him because you didn’t know what he was capable of, whether or not your father created him to become a destructor or a peacemaker. You quickly learn that he’s tame as he didn’t even know how to control his limbs or how to speak any language. You had to teach everything to him from scratch, and luckily he was a fast learner. He caught on to things rather quickly, and he was interested in learning.

For most of his existence, Taehyung has been holed up into your house. You don’t know how the public would react if they saw a life-size doll that looks just like V wandering, so you warned him to never go outside. You were his source of outside information, but when you were out of the house, the television and books would be his teachers. Taehyung was always hungry to learn, but he tried his hardest to keep it within the barriers of your rules. You feel bad for restricting him of his own freedom, but you think that it’s for the better—for Taehyung and for the world. At least, for now.

------

After washing up for the night, you head to your bedroom to find Taehyung sitting by the edge of your bed reading a book. You sit next to him, looking over his shoulder to find him reading one of his favorite books, Pinocchio.

“Again?”

He nods his head slightly. “Yea, I really like the story.”

You weren’t familiar with the story of Pinocchio prior to Taehyung. When he was still just learning to speak, you went to the bookstore and bought classic fairytale books for him to practice reading. Though he’s read all of the fairytales at this point, it’s always been the tale of the boy puppet that Taehyung can’t help but bring himself to reread.

You don’t need to ask why Taehyung is so drawn to the story; it’s about a puppet who will become a real boy if he proves himself to be a kind and unselfish person. Though Taehyung has never directly stated that he wants to become a human, you can somewhat tell based on how much he reads the book. He’s always interested in learning about humans and their culture, so it’s no wonder that he wants to join them too.

“Hey, Taehyung,” you start off. “I was able to get a few days off of work a few days after Christmas. Maybe we can do something.”

He rotates his head to you, staring his lifeless eyes into yours. “Really?”

“Yup, it’s to make up for not being able to spend that much time with you last Christmas. You must’ve been lonely while I was working.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t lonely because I know you work hard for both of us...and that no matter how long you’re gone, you’ll always come back.”

Taehyung leans over and rests his head on your shoulder, his hair made of synthetic fiber tickling your cheek. His glossy eyes stare at his lap, quietly contemplating something to himself. Taehyung has almost never retaliated against you before, listening to everything you tell him to do. It almost feels as though he puts 100% of his trust on you, but you don’t particularly mind it.

“I know you say that you don’t mind, but I still want to spend Christmas with you. I wanted to see you open your present last year, but couldn’t. Now that I took a few days off, I get to see your reaction.”

“But...I can’t change facial expressions. You’ll just be disappointed.” He raises his head up from your shoulder, waiting for you to respond.

“Well, if you can’t convey it through your face, then you can always tell me.”

“Okay, I’ll try my best.”

You yawn, seeing as it’s almost your curfew. You stretch your arms outward, allowing your exhaustion to take ahold of your body.

“Taehyung, tell me a story.”

“Which one do you want to hear?”

You contemplate for a couple of seconds, tapping your index finger on your cheek. “How about Pinocchio?”

“But I always tell you that one. Don’t you get tired of it?”

“I’ll get tired of it when you do.” You grin.

“...Okay.”

You settle into bed, pulling the blanket over you as Taehyung closes the book. He’s read Pinocchio countless of times that he knows it like the back of his hand. He waits for you to get comfortable before he begins.

“Once upon a time, there was a woodworker who’s always wanted a son, so he made a marionette that resembled a young boy. He named that puppet Pinocchio. That night, a young fairy granted his wish and brought the marionette to life. However, Pinocchio did not turn completely human, as the fairy said that he would have to prove himself to be truthful and unselfish in order to become a real boy. But Pinocchio easily fell for tricks, and whenever he got in trouble, he would lie. Every time he lied, his nose would grow longer.”

Taehyung can see that you’re already beginning to fall asleep. Still, he continues the story.

“No matter how hard Pinocchio wanted to become a real boy...he would easily fall into temptations. He was a young boy who wanted to know the world as it was, and the world that persuaded him was not a forgiving one.”

As you fall deeper into your slumber, Taehyung brushes your hair from your forehead, gazing at your tranquil expression.

“But with the help of his guardian, the woodworker was able to guide him the right away by never shaming him and still held his hand until he was on the right path, and in return, Pinocchio cared for his father figure. So much so that he was even willing to sacrifice himself for him.”

Taehyung caresses your cheek with his artificial hand. He feels the pressure when he touches your cheek, but he doesn’t know how your skin feels like. With his fake hands, he can’t feel temperature, materials, or pain. No matter how many times he tries touching your skin, it all feels like nothing.

Seeing as you’ve fallen asleep rather quickly, Taehyung assumes that it was another tiring day at work. You talk a lot about working, but he doesn’t know exactly what ‘work’ is. Whatever ‘work’ means, he doesn’t like it because you always return home looking exhausted. If he could, he would do anything to make sure that you’d never have to work again.

Once you’re in a deep sleep, Taehyung gets off of the bed and walks to the windowsill. He slides his fingers down the glass as he stares at the full moon, spending yet another eight hours without you.

------

You’re wandering alone in the middle of an abyss. You see nothing but black with the exception of your reflection on the floor. With nothing else to do, you proceed to walk forward, thinking that walking will help you find your way out of the dark void. Though your legs move, the setting that surrounds you doesn’t, making it feel as though you’re not moving an inch.

After walking for quite a while, you finally notice something in the distance. You can’t make sense of it yet, but once you moved closer, you realized that it’s a figure. Though you tell yourself to run towards it, you only continue to walk in a slow pace., but it didn’t feel like it took you a long time to get to the figure.

Upon closer inspection, you realize that it’s Taehyung, curled up into a fetal position and burying his face in his knees. Taehyung lets out haunting cries that echo throughout the empty space. You reach out for him, but before you do, Taehyung suddenly stops crying.

“...(Y/N)...why do you lock me up in your home?”

You open your mouth, but no matter how hard you try, your voice doesn’t come out. You touch your throat, using all your might to scream. With his face still hidden, he rolls up his sleeves to reveal his wooden arm and his scarred arm.

“Is it because you think I’ll get hurt like last time?”

Now your body has become stiff to the point where you can’t move. You try to lift up your hand, but even you can’t do that.

“Or...are you afraid that everyone will see me as a monster?”

You try to shake your head, but your head doesn’t move.

“You think that everyone will see me as a monster, just like how you saw me as one, right? Like that night when you found me with your father’s dead, cold body.”

You can feel a surge of tears welling up in your eyes, your heart pounding with fear as you so desperately want to deny those accusations. However, no matter how much you want to move, you can’t.

Taehyung gets up with his head still facing down. He drags his feet to you until he’s inches away from you.

“But I think what you’re afraid of the most is being called a freak…”

“Just.”

“Like.”

“Your.”

“Father.”

Taehyung lifts his head up to reveal his empty eye sockets. They’re just as dark as the void around you, but his sockets felt emptier. He croaks as you stare deeply into the absences of his eyes, letting the black world soil you with doubt, paranoia, and terror.

------

Your eyelids shoot open, waking up in the middle of the night drenched in cold sweat. Your room is dark with the exception of two glaring eyes staring at you from the side of the bed. It’s Taehyung, sitting on the carpet as he observes you while you slept. Waking up to someone staring at them would’ve definitely scared anyone, but you know that Taehyung doesn’t have any malicious intentions; he’s just curious about how you sleep.

“Did I wake you up?” He asks.

You sit up, turning on the lamp next to your nightstand. Taehyung doesn’t flinch at all when you turn on the light.

“No,” you rub your eyes and wipe your forehead with your forearm. “What are you doing on the floor?”

“I didn’t want to take up the space on your bed.”

You sigh as you smile, scooting to the opposite end of your bed to give Taehyung space to sit. You pat the empty spot to grant Taehyung the permission to take it. Taehyung stares at it blankly before accepting your offer. He sits with his back straight and legs criss-crossed.

“Your face is wet again.”

You wipe the sweat from your chin. “Oh, I just had another nightmare.”

“A nightmare? But you said that those are scary dreams. Why do you keep having them if they’re scary?”

“Dreaming...is not easy. Sometimes you dream about things you think a lot about or you have in the back of your mind. Some of these thoughts are hard to get rid of so they haunt you in your dreams where it’s most vulnerable.”

“That...does sound scary. I don’t understand why humans have dreams.”

Because Taehyung is literally a soul stuck in a lifesize body of a doll, he doesn’t need to sleep, eat, or rest. He can barely close his eyes, so of course it wouldn’t make sense why he doesn’t know what it’s like to dream.

“To be honest, me too…” You mumble.

“But...if I did dream, I’d like to only dream about you.”

Hearing Taehyung saying it with such an innocent tone makes you forget about your nightmare. You can’t understand why you had that dream in the first place. Of course you were scared of him in the beginning because you had no idea what your father created, but now you know Taehyung won’t even hurt a fly.

“You wouldn’t want to. You see me every day already, so definitely seeing me every night too is going only make you tired of me that you’d want to leave.” You chuckle.

Taehyung doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he takes his hand and brushes a lock of your hair in between his fingers. One strand gets tangled with the joint of his index finger, but he was able to smoothly pull it off.

“I’d only leave when you don’t want me anymore.”

He said it like he meant it, which broke your heart. You pull him in for a hug, making sure that there will never be a day where you’ll abandon him.

“I’d never leave you. The day I saw you in that basement...I knew that I was never supposed to leave your side.”

Taehyung doesn’t know how to process your words. In a way, it sounded like you were destined to be with him for the rest of your life, but Taehyung doesn’t particularly dislike that idea. He hugs you in return, wishing he could smile.

------

It’s another morning like any other. You wake up, prep yourself in the bathroom, and get dressed for work today. While preparing a small breakfast for yourself, Taehyung is in the living room watching TV. Though Taehyung is glued to the screen, you’re too focused on waiting for your waffles to pop out of the toaster. That’s when you hear something that captures your attention.

“International K-Pop group, BTS, has just landed safely and are currently exiting the airport today at 9 A.M., December 23rd, 20XX. Hundreds of fans gather around the airport, holding their hands and almost what looks to be a clear path for the boys, with a few of them holding banners with purple hearts. Even after five years after their last world tour, their fans are still dedicated, which is remarkable.”

You turn your direction to the television, watching the seven Korean musicians, security, and their managers pace their way out of the airport. Rather than be screaming fans, they were surprisingly polite and all shouted ‘welcome BTS.’ The members are all wearing bucket hats, sunglasses, and face masks. They don’t acknowledge the fans, at most simple waves to the crowd. But it’s understandable since they must be jet lagged.

Now drawn to the screen, you lean on the side of the couch that Taehyung is sitting on and watch as the camera pans to each individual member. Due to your father’s obsession with V, you had to become his spy and learn about the band. He knew that it was bizarre for a forty-something-year-old to be oddly attracted to a man who’s twenty years younger than him, so he had you gather all the information because it was more acceptable for someone your age to be interested in him. Because of that, you’re practically familiar with all of the members, even after eight years of ending your endeavors into their world.

Out of all the members, V is the one who stands out the most. While they still look just as young as they were during their prime years, V definitely is the one who looks stunning with his messy hair and tucked in collar shirt with slacks. Comparing V with Taehyung, your father was spot on with V’s features eight years ago. You look at Taehyung for any change of mood when the camera cut to V, but he was staring at the screen like it was any other mediocre thing. But then, it isn’t like Taehyung can change his facial expressions.

“The news reporter said that they’ll be staying in the city next to us.”

“Oh really?”

You look at Taehyung to see if he looks the slightest bit interested in wanting to see them in person, but you can’t tell by his stoic expression. Judging by how much he’s staring at V, he must have some interest in meeting him.

“They’re going to be here during Christmas before performing at the stadium.”

“Oh...that’s really sad. They won’t get to spend time with their family. Speaking of Christmas, today is my last day, so I’ll be able to spend Christmas Eve with you too. We should stay up until midnight!”

Judging by Taehyung’s lack of words, he might be excited for it as well. Usually when he speaks, it’s about how he doesn’t want to bother you with anything, so perhaps he’s just as thrilled for it like you. You look forward to the end of your shift and return home to Taehyung.

------

You wanted to buy a real tree for Christmas, but your budget didn’t allow you to, so you had to settle with the fake tree from last year, not that you mind it particularly. Taehyung helps you decorate the tree with ornaments that you kept in the back of the closet just for this time of year.

You aren’t much of the type to cover your entire house with holiday decorations, but you do enjoy Christmas music. You have a playlist of winter songs on your phone, letting the musical notes dance around the living room. The Christmas tree is shorter than you, so it didn’t take long to hang the ornaments. You and Taehyung sit on the floor, mesmerized by the artificial plant.

“Looks the same as last year’s, huh?” You ask Taehyung.

“Yea...but I like it like this. We only get to see it for a week.”

You nod your head. You thought about how strange it is to make the effort of putting up a tree only for it to be taken down a few days later.

“I’m glad we put up the tree on Christmas Eve. It kept us busy at least.”

Taehyung nods his head. He’s staring blankly at the carpet again, meaning that he’s thinking about something.

“And then in a few more days, isn’t it Mr. V’s birthday?”

It was strange for him to suddenly bring up V. Was it because of the news report yesterday morning?

“Yea...it is. I’m surprised you remember.”

“...It’s not that hard to remember his birthday. He’s the model your father used to make me, and his birthday is after my favorite holiday.”

Your smile fades away, recalling that fateful day. “Right…”

Because Taehyung brought up your father out of the blue, the mood has become serious. Neither of you say a word, only the jolly music that plays in the background.

“I wonder what kind of person Mr. V is.”

You only knew of V whenever he was in front of the camera. You didn’t know who he truly was behind the lenses or when he wasn’t being constantly watched. The V that you knew was very kind toward everyone and had a creative mindset. He always thought differently from the rest of the members, and he had that aura whenever he was on stage that captivated everyone. Whenever he was off-stage, he was very bubbly and chatty. For a time, even you were attracted to his charisma.

One thing about V you notice is how he is very good at expressing his emotions. If he was sad, then he would rarely smile and not a word would come out of his mouth. When he was happy, he’d be the liveliest person in the room. On the other hand, Taehyung is very calm. He’s limited in making expressions because his face isn’t made of muscles. But you don’t want to compare them because they each are their own person, even if Taehyun is a doll.

The clock on the wall finally hits midnight. Thinking that this is a good opportunity to change the subject, you crawl to the coffee table and take out the present that you kept hidden under the table. It’s in the shape of a rectangle, and it’s a little bigger than your hand. It’s also wrapped in purple wrapping paper with a red bow on top. Taehyung watches you move back to him, extending the small present to him.

“Merry Christmas, Taehyung!!” You exclaim.

Taehyung takes the present from you. It looks so pretty that he doesn’t want to tear it, especially the glitter sprinkled on the bow. But since his present is under the paper, he tears it, but carefully enough so that it doesn’t create that big of a mess. It’s a white box, and when he takes off the top, it’s a pair of snow gloves.

“I hope you like them.”

“I’m thankful, but I can’t feel the cold with my body. So why…?”

“They’re not only for the cold,” you take Taehyung by the hand. “You must be tired of being cooped up here...so I thought that you should go out a little to get fresh air.”

“Outside?”

You nod. “At least to the backyard or front yard. I’m sure people are going to give you a weird look when they see your hands.”

Your father gave each joint in the fingers a ball to make it easier for Taehyung to grip onto things with his hands, but it made it obvious that he isn’t human. Each part of the finger has a small gap in between, which makes it easy to see the ball-joints.

“You can blend in with other people when you wear these gloves. That way, you can go out whenever you want.”

You thought long and hard when considering to let him go out and explore the world. You still don’t think he’s ready to face the outdoors, or at least it’s better that you help Taehyung take each step before he can walk on his own. There would be no reason for him to be alive when all you do is lock him up in your home.

You put the gloves on his right hand, then you open his palm to press your hand onto it. You flat your hand out and align your fingers with his, realizing just now how large his hand is. You smile while tilting your head to the side.

“See? Now we don’t look all that different, do we?”

Taehyung looks at your hand, then his. He never knew that wearing a glove could make his hands look so...normal. He folds his fingers in, intertwining it with yours.

“Thank you.” If he could, then he would smile to show how grateful he is for this wonderful gift.

You continue to grin to let him know that you understand. You look out the window to see that many of the lights in the neighborhood are turned off. It might be a rash decision, but you want to do this just once.

“Wanna build a snowman?”

“What?”

“Let’s do it. I’ll go get my coat on and build one.”

------

Unfortunately, your backyard is elevated in a way where there is no flat ground for you two to have a snowman to stand, so the front yard is your only option. Luckily, everyone is asleep around this time, but even if people are awake, it wouldn’t be that completely strange for two people to be building a snowman on Christmas. Besides, Taehyung will be covered up in winter clothes so anyone passing by will think he’s a human.

You head out first, and Taehyung stands right by the door frame, a bit nervous to step outside. He holds onto the frame, staring at the snow as he debates on whether or not he should go outside.

You extend your hand out to him. “It’s alright! You can do it.”

Taehyung takes your hand, and you hold onto him tightly. He extends one leg first, his foot pressing down on the white puffs. He flinches when his foot fell through the snow, not expecting snow to be this fragile. He takes his other foot out and it also falls into the same fate as the other foot after stomping on the flakes.

You walk backwards, both hands holding onto his as you guide him out of the front porch. At first, Taehyung dragged his feet in the snow, letting it pile up in front of him before he catches note of you lifting your feet out of the snow to move. You giggle witnessing his first experience in the snow, resembling that of a child and their first snow.

Once he gets used to standing on his own, you get down on your knees and take a handful of snow. With both hands, you mold it into the shape of a sphere. Taehyung watches, presumably with a look of awe as he watches what was at first a clump of snow turned into a perfect circle.

“Let’s start with a really small one first, then we’ll make a bigger one.”

Taehyung nods his head.

After an hour, you two were able to build two large snowmen, though it was you who did most of the work. Taehyung tried to make snowballs, but he was having difficulties controlling his hands while wearing gloves. He isn’t used to using his hands with something wrapped around it, so you told him to just gather snow for you to build the snowmen.

Once that’s done, you two stand back to appreciate the work that was put into it. Although the snowmen weren’t in a perfect sphere shape, you were proud of both yourself and Taehyung. You haven’t built a snowmen in many years, so it was fun to do it again.

You drop to the ground, and not knowing what else to do, Taehyung does the same. You exhale, letting the warm fog form around your mouth. Taehyung gazes at the fog, wondering how you’re able to do it when he can’t. He also notices how your face changed colors—your nose and cheeks turning as red as cherries.

“So?” You turn to Taehyung. “How’s it like being outside again?”

He looks down, using his index finger to draw three circles, attempting to draw the snowmen. “I feel the same. The only difference is that there are no walls.”

You thought he’d be more excited about it, especially after refusing to let him out since the incident a few years back. However, his tone is still the same as any other day. You think about the dream you had a few nights ago. It pushed you to let him go out for once, and you thought he was feeling suffocated, but you were wrong.

You let out a disappointed chuckle, worrying for nothing. “I’m surprised you’re so calm. I thought you’d be jumping with joy.”

“It’s not that I didn’t enjoy it. I felt the same because you’re with me, and I’m always happy when I’m with you.”

You blush slightly. Everything Taehyung says or does is always for you, as if his entire world revolves around you. While it is a bit obsessive, you don’t hate it. You’ve spent all your life being abandoned and neglected—your mother leaving, your classmates ignoring you, and your father dying. Sometimes it feels nice to have that relationship where you can rely on Taehyung, and he can rely on you.

You rest your head on his shoulder, smiling as you close your eyes. “Taehyung, I’m glad you’re with me. I want to remember this moment forever.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything, but it wasn’t as if you were expecting him to say anything. Instead, he snuggles his face into your shoulder. You make eye contact with Taehyung, and you notice snowflakes in his glass eyes. You imagine that it must be annoying having frozen water stuck in your eyes, but Taehyung doesn’t care. Amidst the snow in his eyes is you—the one and only thing that matters the most to him.

“Getting to spend time with you is already a gift…(Y/N)...I’m really happy right now, and I’m really happy that when I woke up in this world, you became the first person I saw, my first teacher, my first caretaker...and my first friend.” If he could, Taehyung would be smiling and crying tears of joy.

For a while, it felt like time stopped for you two. Taehyung gently holds onto the sleeve of your coat, wanting to hug you. While you two sit silently next to each other, it feels like no one else existed in each other’s world, just you two. You feel your heart race whenever Taehyung is honest about his feelings. Whenever he speaks, you know that you can trust him. How can you ever think of Taehyung as a monster? You’re afraid of what people will think of Taehyung, but no matter what, you’ll never leave him.

------

While you’re asleep, Taehyung keeps staring at the snowmen from your bedroom window. Unfortunately it started to snow, so you and Taehyung had to return inside. Soon after that, you got ready for bed, and Taehyung has been staring out the window since. He keeps replaying the time he spent making the snowman with you, having that fluttering feeling when he was with you.

Taehyung keeps looking down at his imperfect hands, one being wooden and the other being scar-filled. The size of the wooden hand is smaller than the other, but the fingers are longer on the wooden one. He folds his hands together, trying to imitate when he holds your hand. He always thinks about how you hold his hand so casually when you have many opportunities to hold normal hands. It makes him happy that you always choose him over anyone else.

When he looks back at the snowmen, he noticed that one of them has toppled over due to the strong wind. He’s sadden to see one of them has fallen over, thinking about how all that hard work is going to waste. It’s not yet the time for people to wake up yet, and you did mention that if he were to wear enough clothing, he can hide his body. He puts on his coat, scarf, snow pants, and boots. Just as he was about to head out, he returns to grab his new pair of gloves.

Taehyung scoops piles of snow in his hands, trying to do what you did and make the snow into a ball. But whenever he tries, one side would be bigger than the other side. The ball that you created earlier has become a lumpy oval. He doesn’t know any other way to solve this other than matting it with more snow.

He’s worried about taking too much time trying to fix the snowmen, otherwise other people will wake up to find him. Either that, or you will spot him outside and hate him forever for going out without your permission. To shorten the time to make it, he decides to grab more snow. He has his hands dig deeper until it hits the ground. He tries his hardest to pick up the snow, but his vinyl hand gives in to the weight, bending his hand backwards at an inhumane angle. Despite that, he doesn’t feel pain whatsoever; he didn’t even realize his hand bent backwards at first.

Taehyung drops the snow to look at his hand. He takes off his glove and rolls up his sleeve to find that he ripped an opening in his wrist right below the palm. He traces the hole, seeing how his arm is aging due to the excessive amount of times he’s been using this arm. Pretty soon, he has to tell you that he needs another arm. But, how is he going to tell you that he made this hole because he snuck out during the middle of the night? He’s afraid that you’re going to get upset, and he doesn’t want to bother you anymore about his accidents. For now, he rolls his sleeve back up and decides to keep it a secret.

That’s when he hears a voice call out. He tilts his head up, shocked to see a man standing in front of him. He’s wearing a long, tan trench coat and circular glasse. His hands are in his pockets, protecting them from the cold. Taehyung has nothing to say to this man because he’s never spoken to another human before, but it’s not only that. This man looks just like Taehyung...or rather, Taehyung looks just like this man.

------

It’s nearly three in the morning, and you hear quick stomps in the hallway. You raise your head up, eyelids still heavy with sleepiness. The footsteps gets louder until it reaches to your bedroom. You manage to open one eye to see Taehyung standing in the middle of your room. It’s too dark for you to exactly make out the details of Taehyung, but you know that it’s him based on the outline of his body.

“Taehyung? What’s wrong?”

Taehyung doesn’t respond immediately. You thought that he didn’t hear you the first time, but he was just trying to collect his thoughts. You sit up, but when you do, Taehyung scurries to you, putting one hand on your knee and the other on your back as he kneels down.

“I’m so sorry for waking you up.”

“What? No, it’s fine. You seemed like you were just doing something. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. You should go back to sleep.”

Taehyung gently settles his hand on your stomach and slowly pushes you down so you can return to your slumber. If you were fully awake, then you would’ve continued to ask him more questions, but you were too tired to pursue. You don’t pay too much attention to this, so you head to sleep.

When you close your eyes, you didn’t think too much about how nearly for the entire night, Taehyung was holding your hand. You never noticed that Taehyung is missing one glove.

------

You hear the sound of your doorbell ringing. You groan, checking the time as you don’t see the reason for someone to be visiting you on Christmas day. When you sit up, Taehyung is nowhere to be found in your bedroom. You thought that he would be getting the door, but the bell keeps ringing. You slide off of bed, yawning as you walk down the halls and to the door.

When you open the door, your heart nearly stops beating at the surprise. You wipe your eyes, making sure that who you’re looking at isn’t a hallucination. The person standing before you is none other than V. Your jaw drops, and seeing as that is a common reaction that V has seen a dozen times before, he lets out a radiating smile.

“Good morning. Do you speak Korean?” Taehyung asks with a Korean accent.

You’re too shocked to let out a word, so instead you shake your head. He was already expecting you to answer with a ‘no,’ but he wanted to give it a try. He extends his hand out for a handshake.

“Hi, I’m V from BTS. Nice to meet you.”

You shake his hand, your eyes not once off of this man’s face. You can’t believe that he’s standing in front of you. You haven’t even shaken a real hand in so long that you almost forgot what it feels like. Just like Taehyung’s hand, V’s hand is nearly twice as big as your hand, nearly devouring yours when greeting you.

You finally break out of your trance, realizing that this is no dream. “Excuse me. Sorry for my rude behavior. My name is (Y/N). It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Nice meeting you, (Y/N). Mind if I come in?”

Your eyelashes flutter as you blink profusely. You thought you didn’t hear that right the first time. Why would he feel the need to come inside? Why is he here during Christmas in the first place? You have no idea what’s going on and what his purpose is for being here.

“I’m sorry, but I just woke up. If you need anything, then you can tell me here.”

He continues to smile with an underlying meaning, and it’s unnerving. “Okay. Do you have other people living here too?”

‘Other people?’ You immediately thought of Taehyung. Now you’re worried that he spotted you and Taehyung out last night playing in the snow. Internally, you beat yourself up because you might’ve dragged Taehyung into potential danger. But you still don’t understand why V would be out so late, especially since he’s a celebrity with a tight schedule.

Suddenly, you feel nauseated the longer you stay with V. Being with him brings back bad memories that you don’t want to remember, such as the time when you found your father’s dead body.

“No, it’s just me.” You let the lie flow right out of your mouth.

But Taehyung is sharper than that. He doesn’t need to get familiar with you to know that you’re lying.

“Last night there was a person here. He dropped this.”

Your eyes widen once you saw what he had hidden in his pocket. It’s one side of the glove that you bought for Taehyung. You look up at V with your eyes asking how he got ahold of it. Did he drop while you two were returning back inside?

You take the glove from his hand, crossing your arms and avoiding eye contact as you feel defensive. In your mind, you’re in panic mode, not sure how to get rid of V, or even where Taehyung is at.

“I-it’s just me. You must be mistaken. Now please, do you mind leaving me alone? I’m sorry.”

“I know someone lives there too. I would like to meet him and talk to him,” He beams. “Merry Christmas.”

V walks off, and you close the door behind him, questioning what just happened. Immediately, you thought of looking for Taehyung and ask him what happened. He was behaving strange last night, and it wasn’t just your imagination.

“Taehyung? Where are you?”

You continue to call out his name, and eventually, you find him at the end of the hall, hiding in one of the spare rooms. He’s peeking his head out, and you’re unsure if he’s trying to hide in fear that you’re furious with him or if he was trying to hide from V.

You walk toward Taehyung at a leisurely pace, tilting the upper half of your body to the side while smiling to let him know that you’re not upset. He’s inside the room that you set up for him a few years back. You thought that Taehyung would want his privacy, but after a few nights, he eventually stopped going to his room. He once said that it was because he didn’t feel comfortable at night without you.

“Hey, Taehyung. What are you doing in there?”

Feeling a bit more secure, Taehyung steps out of his room, but his head is still pointing down with guilt. Once you’re close enough, you cup his cheek and raise it high enough for you to look at him in the eyes. However, he averts his eyes away from you, giving in to the shame to brought upon you.

“I’m sorry...I went out without your permission when you were asleep. I thought it was safe to go out because it was only the front yard but…”

“Hey, I’m not mad at you. If anything, I’m relieved that you’re okay.”

Taehyung was bound to be spotted by another person, especially since you brought him out. Though you were not expecting that other person to be V, you knew that this day would come eventually. You remove your hand from his cheek and take him by his wooden hand. You place the glove in his palm.

“Don’t worry about it. I told that guy to leave, so hopefully he won’t come back anymore. Let’s go make some breakfast. After that, let’s plan what we want to do today.”

You turn around and head to the opposite end of the hall. When you notice that Taehyung isn’t following you, you twirl around and wait for him.

“That man...he’s really Mr. V, isn’t he?” Taehyung clenches onto his glove.

You can’t imagine what’s going through his mind right now, meeting face-to-face with the man responsible for his existence. You want to know what happened and if there were any words exchanged, but you don’t want to pester him about it as he still might be processing it. Besides, it’s Christmas, and you don’t want it to be about V, but about you and Taehyung.

You march right for Taehyung and take him by the hand, dragging him with you to the kitchen. “It doesn’t matter if it really was him or not. Let’s go make breakfast after I brush my teeth.”

------

You thought that V would leave after you had him to leave, but he hasn’t left your front yard since this morning. For a celebrity, he definitely has a lot of time to be loitering around your lawn. Every time you look out the window, V would perk up a smile and wave. You try to forget about him since he hasn’t rung your doorbell since the morning, but you can’t when all he does is stare.

Once again, V’s standing by the sidewalk, hands in his pocket. By this point he should be freezing because he’s been standing there for hours. You initially wanted him to leave because he was disturbing your peace, but now you’re concerned that he’ll catch a cold if you don’t somehow get him to leave.

Taehyung is sitting in the living room, writing another journal entry as he stares at you staring at V. You’ve been looking at him longer than you normally have, which makes Taehyung stop writing and observe you with curious eyes.

“Is Mr. V still out there?”

“Yea...I wonder why he won’t leave. He’s going to get sick.”

“I’m...sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Taehyung. You don’t have to apologize.”

One habit that Taehyung has garnered is his excessive need to apologize whenever he feels like he’s done something wrong to you. He’s afraid of you being disappointed in him, though you’ve never gotten upset at him before. You’ve done so much for him, so it’s no wonder that he has those kinds of worries.

“I think Mr. V wants to talk to me...Maybe that’s why he won’t leave.”

How much does V know about Taehyung being a doll? Does he even know that he’s a doll? Whatever the amount of information he has, you don’t want him talking to Taehyung. Your instincts tell you that you should protect Taehyung at all costs.

You decide to make a move. If you don’t do anything, then V will be standing there stubbornly until you let him talk to Taehyung. You pace to your bedroom and put on your winter clothes, followed by you putting on your boots by the front door.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to have a small chat with him.”

Taehyung stands up to stop you, but you raise your hand to tell him to stop. You let him know that everything will be alright and that you’ll only talk to him. You open the front door, closing it behind you before V gets a chance to get a peek inside.

“Good evening!” V exclaims.

He approaches you, hands still in pocket. You can see him shivering and his teeth clattering upon closer inspection. You start pitying him for leaving him out here alone to freeze.

“What are you still doing out here? I don’t mean to be rude, but don’t you have other things to worry about?”

“My manager said that we can do anything we want on Christmas.”

“Don’t you want to spend time with your friends?”

V smiles, staring into the distance while lost in his own thoughts. “...It’s okay. I want to know you better and become my friend.”

He extends his hand out for another handshake and once again, you take it. His hand is so cold that you feel like your hand could get frostbite if you held his hand any longer.

“Thanks...but I think it’s better if you go back. What if other people start to get suspicious about you standing here all day?”

“Suspicious?” He tilts his head, puzzled.

Assuming that he doesn’t know what ‘suspicious’ means, you try to explain. “People will think you’re a bad guy…”

He shakes his head. “I’m not a bad person. I want to talk to you and another person inside your house. I met him last night.”

V is still determined to see Taehyung, which makes you uneasy. “...What exactly did you see last night to make you think that someone else lives with me?”

“...I saw myself.”

Your shoulders are weighed with anxiousness.

“Well, he looked just like me. But he didn’t look scared. He stared at me like how I stared at him. I thought I was looking at a mirror. Everything about him looked like me...except...more beautiful.”

There’s a look of pain in his face as he stares at his hand. You don’t know anything about V and what he goes through, but you still pity him. You were aware about how V and BTS are open about their struggles, but there is a large portion of it that they’ve kept hidden.

“I just...want to talk to him. My English is not that good yet, but I would still like to meet him.”

You thought that V might have evil intentions if he ever met Taehyung, but after hearing a bit more, you realize that he’s desperate just to see Taehyung once more. There’s an unresolved conflict within him most likely, and he thinks he might find closure with Taehyung, which makes you hesitant in responding.

“I’m...sorry, but I can’t.”

You quickly try to flee from the situation, but V grabs you by the hand, his cold hands sending signals throughout your body.

“Please?”

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, otherwise you’d regret turning him down. This is for Taehyung’s safety, so it’s for the better.

“I’m sorry, but you should go back.” You pull your hand away from his grasp and walk back instead your home.

------

You close the door behind you, and Taehyung was waiting by the door this entire time. He was worried about you, but he knew he wasn’t allowed to go out. Immediately, Taehyung hugs you out of concern, and he has no idea how relieved you are to feel his rigid body wrap around you.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“What did he want to talk about?”

“You’re right. He...wants to talk to you.”

Taehyung goes quiet.

“I don’t think he’s a mean person...but I’m not sure what he wants to talk about.” You peek through the window and see that V still hasn’t left.

You feel bad for leaving him out there, and you debate about whether or not you should bring him something warm to drink. However, you think that by doing so, you’re inviting him to come inside, thus putting Taehyung in danger. You knew that you shouldn’t have brought Taehyung outside. You were just excited about the thought of him experiencing the outdoors on Christmas, but you weren’t expecting it to escalate this quickly.

You turn to look at Taehyung, and he won’t stop staring at V. Though Taehyung can’t change facial expressions, you do know that if he stares at something for a long time, he’s thinking about what to do.

------

“(Y/N)?”

You’re sitting by the window in the living room, watching V sitting by the curb of the sidewalk. You were amazed by his endurance, being able to stay out there for so long without having to eat. To your surprise, no one in the neighborhood has recognized him, but then again it is Christmas and everyone wouldn’t want to go out at this time. Not only that, but your neighborhood is pretty isolated as well, only a few houses in this area.

You’ve been sitting there for hours that you’ve fallen asleep by the time Taehyung checks up on you. It’s late at night, and Taehyung is surprised to see that V is still sitting out there with great determination. Taehyung knows you well enough that you must feel awful for making him sit out there, but it’s always him that comes before anything; it makes Taehyung feel guilty—guilty that you make sacrifices for him, even if it means making others sacrifice as well.

He gets on one knee to be eye level with you. He strokes the back of his index finger on your cheek, wondering if you’re dreaming right now. There are so many things he doesn’t know about the human body, some of which he wishes that he can have as well. That way, at least he’d be more similar to you, and no one would have to be scared of Taehyung if he ever went out.

Taehyung looks out the window once more, knowing full well that V will not leave until he talks to him. Last night, Taehyung ran inside before he got the chance to say a word, but he knew that his identity was discovered the moment they made eye contact. However, during this entire Christmas and seeing V stand out there and having a chat with you, it doesn’t seem as though V was to harm him. V genuinely wants to talk to him.

Taehyung can’t sit any longer, he has to do something. You do so much to protect him, even when it’s his fault, you still do whatever you can to fix it. He wants to become responsible—he wants to protect you as well. You tell him that he can always tell you how he feels, but no matter what, he can never properly convey how important you are to him.

He stands up, closing his eyelids, pecking you on the forehead. Though he feels the pressure on his artificial lips, he doesn’t feel the texture of your skin. Since it’s been almost a decade, the pink color on his lips are fading away, but whenever he stares at your lips, they’re always pink. You said that skin typically feels soft, so maybe one day, Taehyung would be able to know how that feels. But that is merely a faraway dream that’ll never come true. After all, Taehyung isn’t real—he’s just an imitation of V.

Taehyung puts on his coat and scarf to hide his doll-like body. On the kitchen counter are the gloves that you bought for him just for this occasion. He takes them and walks out the front door, heading straight towards V.

------

You can’t remember when you fell asleep. One moment you were watching V from the window, and the next you found yourself sleeping. You raise your head, checking if V is still there. However, you lose all sense of sleepiness when you see Taehyung sitting next to V outside. You jump out of your chair, grabbing a blanket and slipping in your sneakers before running out without a coat.

“Taehyung!”

Both Taehyungs turn their heads upon hearing your voice, and you freeze. You look at both men, and it seems like you interrupted their conversation. Taehyung must’ve gone out when you were asleep again. In V’s hands is a steamed bun and Taehyung is wearing V’s thin-rimmed glasses.

Taehyung stands up, wobbling towards you while still wearing his glasses. His vision is perfect, so you don’t understand why he’s wearing them. Once he gets close to you, he pats you on the face to make sure that you’re really there.

“(Y/N), why do people wear glasses? I thought they were supposed to help you see better.”

You take them off. “It’s because your eyes are already healthy that you don’t need them.”

V approaches you and Taehyung. He smiles as he watches you two interact. His stare makes you uncomfortable, so you consciously bring yourself to stop talking. You feel guilty about making V stand out in the snow all day—you were just afraid that V was going to hurt Taehyung.

“Taehyung went inside and gave me a steamed bun, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. We’ll both be going inside. I’m sure there are people looking for you.”

But right before you head inside, Taehyung holds onto your hand. You turn around to see that he isn’t moving from his spot.

“Can we let Mr. V in?”

You want to ask him why, but you thought it’d be too rude to say it aloud. You turn your attention to V, who doesn’t seem all that excited nor desperate to come inside; he’s simply waiting for your answer.

“I promise Mr. V isn’t a bad person. He lets me use his things.”

You decide to trust Taehyung’s intuition and let V come inside.

------

You serve V chamomile tea at the dinner table while Taehyung gives him a tin pan filled with various kinds of Danish cookies. You and Taehyung sit across from V as he sips the warm drink. He lets the tea heat up his throat, balancing well with his cold skin.

“Tastes great.” He compliments.

You nod slightly, unsure of how everything came together just for this moment where you are in the same room as the two Taehyungs. V can sense that you have a lot of questions to ask, so he sets the tea down and prepares for a long chat.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t hurt Taehyung. We talked for a long time, and he’s a very kind person,” V clears his throat. “I also caught on as well...Taehyung isn’t human, is he?”

You jolt.

“Is that why you kept telling me to go away? You didn’t want anyone to find out that he’s not human?”

Sweat forms on your face. He has a sharper eye than you thought. All those years you spent watching V, you always assumed he was the kind of person who’ll space out and not think too much about things.

“I thought he was mannequin when I first saw him, but when he ran inside, I was confused. I wanted to make sure that what I was seeing wasn’t a dream, so I kept bothering you to let me see him. Is he a robot?”

Do you answer him truthfully or not? How will you explain to him about your father’s undying love for him and how he used black magic to bring Taehyung to life? While lying might be the safest in the moment, building up lies after lies will eventually topple over. So what is the best option in this situation?

“You’re right...Taehyung’s not human. He was created by my dad many years ago and I took care of him since.”

You keep your head down, fearful of his reaction.

“Wow, that’s cool!”

You’re surprised by how well V is took that information. You thought he’d be like any other person and be frightened by Taehyung. Then again, V and Taehyung spoke for quite some time, so all that talking might’ve mellowed the shocking revelation.

“Taehyung is really smart. We talked for hours, and he loves learning about many things. He also tells me he knows how to write? That’s amazing.”

“...You’re not freaked out about this?”

He shakes his head. “People made weirder things of me before. Taehyung is the most normal.”

You find that amusing. If he just hears about your father’s reasoning for Taehyung then this will definitely be on the top of his list. But if creating a replica of him is considered ‘normal’, then you try to imagine what it was that took the cake as the weirdest thing he’s ever seen. Humans do have endless creativity, some of which might be better if it doesn’t exist.

You turn to Taehyung to find him still playing with V’s glasses. One of the few mistakes your father made in trying to make a copy of V was that he made Taehyung have perfect vision while the real V needs prescription glasses.

“How long have you two been together?”

“Eight years.”

“Wow...it makes sense. Taehyung looks like how I did a little under ten years ago.”

V is well into his thirties now. Though he looks roughly the same as he did eight years ago, there is no doubt that his face has changed. He’s become more masculine, even growing a stubby mustache, though not obvious from first glance.

An hour goes by, and the three of you have been chatting. It turns out that you were just paranoid—V is actually a lot nicer than you initially thought. You just haven’t spoken to another person besides Taehyung in a long time that you forgot that there are people out there who have good intentions. Although you still don’t know why V wanted to talk about with Taehyung, V seems sincere.

V checks the time on his watch and realizes he overstayed his welcome. He stands up and takes his coat from the chair. You get up from your seat as well, wrapping your thin blanket around you as you walk him out the door.

“It was nice meeting you, (Y/N). You too, Taehyung.”

Taehyung nods his head. You keep staring at the ground, that small doubt still wandering the back of your head. V can sense that something is wrong with you, so he waits for you to tell him what you’re thinking about.

“You won’t...tell anyone about Taehyung, right?”

V smiles to reassure you. “Why would I? You worked hard to make sure that no one else knows, so it would be rude if I told everyone.”

You sigh in relief, though that doubt still lingers in your head.

“Also, I’m sorry about making you stay out there all day...I wasted your Christmas.”

V chuckles. “You don’t need to apologize. I was the one who chose to stay out there, even after you told me to go away many times. You were just trying to protect Taehyung.”

You nod slightly as V waves goodbye and walks off. You turn to Taehyung, who’s still waving goodbye to V too. Once he’s gone from your peripheral, you close the door and sit on the couch in the living room.

“I’m sorry...I went outside without your permission again. I saw how stressed you were about him so I wanted to do something about it.”

You chuckle. “What did you two even talk about?”

“I told him to leave, but he looked really happy to meet me again. I wanted him to leave...but I wanted to talk to him at the same time, so we kept on talking. I was scared that he was going to be afraid of me, but he accepted me...just like how you did.”

You look down at your feet, feeling awful that Taehyung truly believes that you were accepting of him. Is he trying to deny what happened in the beginning, or has he forgotten about it? It took a long time for you and Taehyung to get into the stable relationship that you two are in now, so now it may seem like a distant memory to Taehyung. But to you, it’s still as fresh as yesterday’s memory because there were things you wish you could’ve changed.

“Yea...it’s been a long day, shall we head to sleep, now?”

------

Ever since Christmas, V has been coming over to your house for the past couple of days. Though he greets you, he mainly comes to talk to Taehyung. They’re always in the living room, chatting for hours without breaks. Even Taehyung seems excited whenever V comes over. It almost seems like they’re twins.

It does make you a little jealous when you see them having fun. Whenever Taehyung talks to you, he always speaks in a calm tone, but with V, his tone is always as if he looks forward to meeting him. You try not to let your jealousy get the better of you since V is his first friend from the outside world. However, today is a little different.

“You’re not coming tomorrow?” Taehyung asks.

Taehyung and V are sitting together in the living room while you’re in the kitchen, washing the dishes when you happen to be eavesdropping on their conversation.

“Sorry, I wish I can, but I’ll be busy. The members want to spend time together because…”

“...It’s your birthday tomorrow.” Taehyung finishes the sentence.

V nods.

Because V has been coming to this place often, you had completely forgotten about his birthday. When you think about it more, you thought that it’s odd that V has been staying here longer than he should. You thought that they were on tour, so he should’ve left long ago.

“It’s okay...you’re busy, so I understand.”

You lean over to look at the two men, and V doesn’t look all that excited about his birthday. He isn’t smiling or laughing about it—just a serious expression.

“So do you celebrate your birthday on the same day as mine?” V asks to change the subject.

“...We don’t know exactly when I was born, so we always celebrate it on January 1st.”

“Oh, that’s not far from my birthday! Maybe after my performance then we can celebrate.”

“But...what about your job and the members?”

“No, I don’t think they would mind. Besides, I think they would be tired by the time we finish our schedule.”

When you look at Taehyung, you can’t tell whether he’s happy about that or not. Perhaps he is a bit happy about it because he’ll be able to celebrate his birthday with someone else.

“I know! My performance tomorrow will be filmed live, so it’d be nice if you and (Y/N) would watch it and support me.”

“Really?”

He nods. “It’s been a while since we had our comeback, so I feel a little nervous. We’re going  to be performing on the CNL Show at 8 P.M., so please tune in.”

V checks the time on his watch. Seeing that it’s already the evening, he gets up from the couch and heads to the front door. You and Taehyung follow him from behind.

“I have to get going now. I’ll see you two soon.”

You and Taehyung wave goodbye as V walks off. You’ve never seen V get picked up by a car or know where he walks off to, so you do get a bit worried, especially since he’s a celebrity and might get recognized by the public. It is a good thing that your neighborhood is rather isolated with the exception of a few homes.

You also found it odd that V has a lot of free time. He doesn’t stay all day, but he comes during the evenings and talks for a few hours. Unlike the same V that you knew eight years ago, he’s much more calmer than how he used to portray himself, but it could also be that he’s grown up and doesn’t have the same kind of energy he had when he was still in his twenties. He seems very down to earth, and he claims that his English isn’t that great, but he speaks fine. 

“You must really like V, Taehyung.” You nudge his arm playfully.

“Yea...I can see why people like him so much. I was scared to talk to him at first, but he’s a lot nicer than I thought.”

You nod. “Yea, V always had a way of charming people whenever he spoke.”

You remember the time when BTS was still fresh to you and how V always stole the spotlight even when he didn’t intend to. There were times when you couldn’t get your eyes off of him because he was that stunning. It wasn’t until your father’s death that made it hard for you to look at him the same. Every time you saw V on TV, your father’s dead body would flash through your mind, and then you’d feel the need to vomit. That was the same for Taehyung as well.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong? Are you tired?”

Recalling all that unwanted memory is making you space out. You comb Taehyung’s hair with your fingers. Because his wig isn’t made of real hair, the tips tend to stand up on its own no matter how much you brush it.

“No, I’m just thinking about how you two look really similar but have contrasting personalities. To be honest, I think it’ll take me awhile to get along with V compared to you.”

“Why? You don’t like him?”

“It’s not him, it’s just me,” you get up and walk to your bedroom. “I should be heading to bed. Let’s go, Taehyung.”

------

You toss and turn during the middle of the night, and despite the frosty air, you still feel sweat forming on your skin. Whenever you try to fall asleep, this lump of anxiousness would jump out of nowhere and attack you. Your mind is muddled with worries that it’s been preventing you from sleeping properly these past few nights.

You feel something cold being pressed against your arm. When you open your eyes, you see Taehyung’s silhouette sitting by the side of your bed and his wooden hand on your arm.

“You keep moving around. Another nightmare?”

You shake your head. “No nightmare. Just...can’t sleep.”

You haven’t been able to sleep since V started visiting, and there has been this feeling of uneasiness growing inside you. There are so many questions you want to ask, such as how V is able to have consecutive visits to your place without getting in trouble or being seen by the public. So far, V has been treating you and Taehyung kindly, but there’s just something unnerving about now knowing V’s exact intentions that makes you unable to trust him immediately.

Taehyung breaks the tension by putting his hand over yours. “Has something been bothering you?”

You feel conflicted about whether or not you should tell him about your concerns. On one hand, you know that withholding your thoughts from him will only bend your relationship with him, but telling him might hurt his feelings, especially since he really likes V. You personally don’t know how to answer him.

Taehyung brushes your bangs behind your ears, mesmerized by the gaze in your eyes. “I wish I can somehow jump into your brain and get rid of all your problems. That way, you don’t ever have to worry about anything anymore when you wake up.”

You chuckle at his heroic words. “You don’t need to do that. Just you being with me is already enough to keep me sane.”

But your smile fades away quickly, thinking about the beginning of Taehyung’s life and how you rejected him coldly. You would’ve never thought that Taehyung would ever become important in your life, not in a million years.

“Hey, Taehyung...do you remember how we first met?”

He nods. “You found me in the basement.”

“...Yea, and when you tried reaching out to me, I ended up running away and locking the door behind me. I left you in there with my dad’s dead body for a few days...Weren’t you upset with me?”

You two had a rough start, and you were constantly scared of him. After discovering what your father had done in the basement, you wanted nothing to do with Taehyung.  You were even considering to run away from this mess that your father left behind.

“...No, I’m not upset. I never was to begin with, because in the end, you still chose to open the door and reach your hand out to me, even if you were scared. You gave me a chance to live.”

Once a few days went by, your curiosity got the better of you and you decided to check the basement. Even after all those days, Taehyung barely moved from where he fell. He was still, staring into nothingness while you kept him in the dark. It wasn’t until he reacted to the light coming from the door, and there you were—half of your body peering into the dusty room.

When you found him in the same spot, something in you knew that he wasn’t a monster. You steadily approach him, kneeling in front of him as he reached his hand out as a last attempt. This time, you extended your hand and accepted him, and since then, you’ve been responsible for him. He was like a baby who had just been birthed and had yet to learn about the world, so you knew that it was your responsibility to teach him of that world. You vowed to watch over him and that you would never make him a monster.

Once again, you chuckle at Taehyung after recalling your first meeting, all that fear that you had before is now gone, and whenever you hold onto him, you only feel comfort. You were a hopeless girl eight years ago—going to school, avoiding people, despising your father, holding a grudge against your mother for leaving you with him. All those times being neglected has caused you to naturally feel the need to push yourself away from others before they can push you away, and this goes to V as well.

“How do you honestly feel about V coming by?”

“...I really do like talking to him. It’s like he introduces me to a new world that I’ve never heard of. It’s nice that he comes by often...but…”

“But…?”

“Mr. V is...a very great person...but I’m worried that…” Taehyung trails off.

“Worried about what?”

“...Nothing. I think I’m just being ridiculous.”

It’s rare for Taehyung to change his mind like that and be doubtful of himself. He’s always open about telling you the conflicts he’s dealing with.

“Keeping it to yourself isn’t going to solve itself. You can tell me what’s wrong.”

“...Do you think he’s a great person too?”

You wonder what Taehyung defines as a ‘great’ person. Of course on cameras V’s considered an extraordinary person, and now you know that behind the scenes, he seems just as great as he is when he’s being watched.

“V didn’t think much about you not being human...so I think anyone who accepts you for who you are is definitely a good person.”

Or at least that’s what you like to think. There are a lot of people who’ll use Taehyung for their own self gain or to ‘further science’, but you want nothing more for Taehyung than to live a life no different from other humans, even if it is entirely impossible to reach that goal. Whenever V came, he never pestered him for information about how Taehyung is a living doll, but treating him like any other person. You were preparing yourself for the worst, but you’re somewhat glad that the first person Taehyung met is his reflection.

------

“I forgot what channel he said he’d be on.” You mumble as you go through all the TV channels with your remote.

“I think CNL should be on channel 150.”

“Oh, you’re right.”

You flip to channel 150, and you made it right when the host is introducing V’s band and their latest album. Cheers from teen to middle-aged women can be heard in the background, waving their ARMY bombs. Once the music starts, the fans do the iconic chant where they shout everyone’s names right before the first member sings. Since this is their first performance in a while, they’re a bit stiff—constantly avoiding the cameras and looking down after finishing their lines. But after the first few verses, they eventually became naturals on stage again.

They became the performers that they were once before and a rush of nostalgia runs through your brain. You remember all the hours you spent sitting in front of your laptop and watching all their recorded concerts. Though you weren’t a massive fan, your jaw would still drop at how they would execute dance moves that you can never accomplish. Even after their long hiatus, they truly are natural-born performers.

You keep glancing at Taehyung, whose eyes are glued to the screen, specifically on V. You notice his eyes tracing in every direction that V moves to, not once blinking throughout the entire song. Neither of you say a word, letting the television being the only one with sound playing in the house.

However, seemingly out of the blue, the music stops and everyone stops dancing. V looks the most confused, while the six other members are breathing heavily from the dancing and singing. The fans starts singing the happy birthday song, including the members. One of the members comes with a birthday cake with three, lighted candles in the center. V still looks confused, but it finally hits him that they’re celebrating his birthday.

That’s when V’s eyes begin welling up with tears, and the crowd’s screams become louder. Various people in the audience spout sentences such as ‘it’s okay V’ and ‘we purple you’. V covers his mouth, bending over with his arm wrapped around his stomach to comfort himself. Seeing him break down makes the members feel the need to hug him, so they gather in a circle with their arms around each other with the exclusion of Jimin who’s still holding the cake but patting V on the back.

Jimin wipes V’s tears away with his thumbs, mouthing something in Korean but it’s inaudible. V blows out the candles, tears still streaming down his cheeks, and everyone cheers for him. Soon after, he looks at everyone in the audience, holding the mic close to his mouth to give a speech. He speaks in Korean for a good period of time, and once he finished, RM takes the spotlight to translate his words.

“I wish I could say everything in English, but right now, I feel like it’ll translate better if I say it all in Korean. We were gone for many years and were fearful that our fans have moved on with their lives, getting married, having successful careers, everything. While we are happy that our fans have blossomed into beautiful flowers, we could not forget about our fans because they created who we are today and still feel indebted to them. There are no words to describe how much you all truly mean to us.

During our long hiatus, we were all thinking about how we would make a comeback and surprise ARMY again to express our gratitude for the unforgettable memories we made with them during our primetime. We were scared that we weren’t going to live up to the expectation, and that took a toll on us. Every night was a sleepless night for me, and I cried every time I thought about disappointing our fans. I was so nervous that fans wouldn’t like me anymore because I’ve grown stale, even to the point where I talked to my fellow members about not participating in the comeback.”

The whole crowd begins wailing and screaming at his confession.

“But standing before my fans and performing on stage one more time made me realize that all my troubles were just me overthinking things. Even if all my fans moved on, I will never forget everything that you all have done for me, helping me get back on my feet when I needed it the most and hearing the cheers from thousands of people. So in exchange, I’ll keep on helping my fans get back on their feet even when I become old and wrinkly. Right now, despite our language barrier and different cultural backgrounds, we still had the opportunity to perform to you all again. Thank you for celebrating my birthday!”

The crowd cheers even louder, and everyone hugs V to comfort him. The host of the show takes over and congratulates V on his thirty-second birthday before plugging their album one more time and transitioning to commercial break.

Based on his tone and expressions alone, you can tell that this will be an unforgettable moment for V. Every single one of his words felt authentic. All those days he came by, he’s been harboring those emotions and conflicts to himself, finding it more comfortable talking to Taehyung about everyday life than about his life as a musician.

“Aw, I wasn’t expecting a heartfelt surprise! I almost teared up.” You comment.

However, Taehyung doesn’t answer you back. Instead, he stares off into space as a commercial runs, advertising the latest model of a vacuum. What Taehyung had seen must’ve definitely left a mark on him as well, though you’re unsure whether it is a positive or negative one.

“...Don’t you think it’s strange that millions of people loved V at some point? So many people are willing to sacrifice themselves for him even though they don’t know the true him. They only know the persona that he plays out on camera...” Taehyung rotates his head to you. “Do you think we know the true Mr. V?”

“I think...no matter what, we’ll never know everything about a person. Sometimes, we don’t know ourselves, so knowing another person is even harder. But there’s something that feels accomplishing when we know things about the ones we love that others don’t know.”

Taehyung returns back to the television screen once the show returns. Now, they’re introducing each individual member before the host asks them a series of questions.

“Look at all those people...they all came to see them. Some of these people travelled miles away just to see seven people perform one to two songs.”

“Well, it’s because they’re a band with a historical legacy. People would do anything to have a once in a lifetime experience.”

You don’t know what Taehyung is thinking about. He continues to stare blankly at the TV but not paying attention to the content that’s going on behind the screen. That’s when he rolls up his sleeves to his scarred arms. There’s a gaping opening in his wrist that you never noticed before—that time when he snuck out to fix the snowmen and accidentally ripped a hole in his arm.

“So even after they die, their legacy continues on?”

“Yea...but Taehyung, let me see your arm.”

You extend your hand out and take his forearm. You observe the hole, looking at it from different angles to see how bad it is. Taehyung’s skin color on his arm is starting to fade away, so much to the point where you can see the original color of his arm: white.

“I think it’s almost time to replace this arm. How did you get this hole?”

“I tried carrying the snow, but my hand gave in to the weight and I accidentally tore my wrist.”

“You gotta be more careful. Scratches are okay, but holes are definitely bad. Small things can find its way inside, and it’ll build up.”

On the television, V is saying something, but you’re too focused in finding methods to close the tear. While there are millions of eyes on V, Taehyung can’t help but feel a little happy knowing that there’s at least one person who has their eyes on himself, not on the real V.

------

“Happy birthday!” You exclaim.

In the dining room is Taehyung, V, and you sitting around the table after surprising them with a birthday cake. Since you celebrate Taehyung’s birthday not too far from V’s, you decided to buy one vanilla cake for the both of them to share. In the center of cake it says ‘happy birthday to the Taehyungs’. Since Taehyung doesn’t have lungs, V is the one who blows out the candles. You clap cheerfully, and V claps along with you while Taehyung stares blankly at the two of you.

You slice a piece of cake for V and Taehyung, even though Taehyung can’t eat. You feel that it’s better to have Taehyung be included by giving him a cake.

“V, are you sure you’re fine with spending New Year’s with us? Why not with your friends?”

“It’s alright. Anyway, it’s not about me. What did you wish for, Taehyung?”

It’s strange how dismissive V is about his friends, but you try not to worry about it nonetheless. You and V turn to look at Taehyung, but he doesn’t say anything for a few seconds.

“...If I say it out loud, then it won’t come true.”

You laugh, though Taehyung doesn’t understand what it is that you find comical. “Okay, we won’t ask. Instead, I’ll give you your present.”

You take out the present from under the table, and unlike the Christmas present, it’s bigger. He unwraps it with the same amount of care he had when opening the other present, and it’s a box. He takes off the lid and it is revealed to be another wooden prosthetic arm.

“I’ve been meaning to find another replacement but just didn’t have the money. It was also hard to find an arm that’s your length too.”

Taehyung doesn’t reply immediately, nor does V.

“I guess it was a good thing I bought it because your original arm is starting to wear out. Want me to help switch arms out?”

You proceed to move toward Taehyung before he answers. But as you move closer to him, you notice that he keeps eyeing V.

“It’s okay. We can do it next time. Thank you.”

You were a bit taken back as he usually lets you fix him up. He keeps his head low, not saying another word. You worry that you might’ve done something to upset him, but you keep wearing the smile on your face.

“O-okay! Just tell me when you want to, but don’t do it right when your hand falls off.”

Taehyung nods his head faintly to acknowledge you. He’s always been one to be lost in his thoughts, but you can never exactly pinpoint what he’s thinking about. Whatever he may be thinking right now, you hope it’s not bothering him too much.

------

You spot V sitting by the side of the curb, staring at the night sky. Since everyone is cooped up in their warm homes, you decide to keep V company outside. You wrap yourself in a thick blanket and walk outside. V can hear you approach him, but he doesn’t look away from the sky. You take a seat next to him, sighing as you adorn the blanket to protect your shoulders from the freezing temperature.

“How are you not freezing? I already feel like going back inside.”

“It’s hard to see the stars with windows blocking the way.”

“Are you not afraid of being recognized in public?”

“Do you think people are outside during this time of night?”

“...You never know.”

He smiles, exhaling a single breath of laughter, thankful for your concerned but finding it unnecessary. “Where’s Taehyung?”

“He’s inside, writing another journal entry.”

“I notice that Taehyung really writes a lot, but why does he have to write every day?”

You avert your eyes, pausing temporarily. “...It’s a long story.”

“I got time.”

You look at him, checking to see if he’s serious. He grins, challenging you to give him the story that you claim to be too long. You chuckle.

“There are a lot of reasons, one being that I want him to learn how to write, and another so that I have an idea of what he does when I’m not home.”

V raises an eyebrow out of confusion.

“He’s still not good at conveying his feelings, and it’s partially because of the limits that his body gives him. I try to have him practice expressing how he feels on paper since his face doesn’t allow it.”

“...Isn’t it kind of obsessive?”

Obsessive? You never thought of it that way because you would excuse it as you protecting him.

“Taehyung is his own person. He didn’t exist just to be locked up.”

You brush your hand through your hair, sighing. “I know...but it’s just that…”

“Are you afraid of how the world will see him?”

“Of course. Not everyone will be understanding. How do you tell people that I have a V look-alike and that he’s not human?”

Only silence roams as V doesn’t respond, but the silence is what pushes you to talk more.

“...Believe it or not, but I used to be terrified of Taehyung. I didn’t know what he was capable of, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave him alone after my dad made him. The first few years with him was rough...He barely knew how to walk, speak, or even use his arms properly. I had to teach him everything from scratch, and it was very frustrating. For many nights, I locked the door to my room because I was scared he was going to kill me. Even then, I would still have these random anxiety attacks, the paranoia creeping up on me, and I would suffer from insomnia. To me, Taehyung was a monster.

“Then one day...I got tired of him. I wanted to return to my life where I didn’t have to take care of anyone or anything. So I left the front door open in anticipation that his curiosity would get the better of him and he would walk out on his own, and he did. It was a celebratory moment, like I was finally able to breathe. But...it didn’t take long for me to start worrying. By that point, it was almost two years since I found him, so while I didn’t like having him around, it felt weird without him,” You turn your head to your right, staring at the neighborhood that goes down for a few more miles. “I went out and found him a few blocks down...being attacked by a bulldog.”

V’s eyes widen.

“We had a neighbor a few years back who treated his dogs poorly, so because of that, his dog became aggressive. And while he was being attacked by the dog, the dog’s owner’s children were watching with gleeful eyes. They were even throwing rocks at Taehyung and their dog just so it can become more agitated with Taehyung. But what shocked me the most is that Taehyung didn’t fight back. He just stared blankly at the dog while it bit his arm to pieces. And I think...that’s when I realized...after seeing him defenseless, Taehyung isn’t a monster...He didn’t even know how to defend himself.

“Before I knew it, my feet moved before I could even think, pushing the dog off of him. I also got bitten by the dog, but nothing else mattered as long as Taehyung was okay. Eventually, the children fled, and I had to drag Taehyung with me back to the house before the pitbull could get inside. I didn’t even notice that he was missing an arm. I remember hugging him, so relieved that he was okay, but upset at myself that I made him go through that.”

You remember staring at his missing arm, torn from the shoulder. There was a thick layer of saliva dripping from the tips of his torn skin. You took off his clothes, you saw the dents that the rocks made after the kids threw them. When you moved back to get a full view of the condition that Taehyung was in—one less limb than before and a damaged exterior that can’t be fixed—staring at you with eyes of innocence, you threw yourself onto him.

You cried, apologizing over and over about how you shouldn’t have been careless. You had forgotten about the bite on your forearm, letting the blood trail down and smear onto Taehyung’s vinyl skin. You held onto him to let him know that you won’t let go a second time, and when you held onto him long enough, Taehyung wrapped his single arm around you. You spent two years of being afraid of a threat that never existed.

“Since then, Taehyung and I started getting along. Whenever I taught him something, he picked it up pretty fast. He’s really good at imitating my moves, and I think he’s really smart. It’s sometimes just disappointing that no one else may never see how great Taehyung is,” you smack your lips, deciding to change the subject from you to V. “By the way, how are you so calm about Taehyung? Are you really not freaked out that he’s a living, talking doll?”

“Like I said, I’ve seen weirder things that fans have done. This is still unbelievable, but not the most unusual.”

“What’s weirder than this?”

V tries to list the things in his mind, chuckling as some memories that he comes across. “There are fans who have stalked me, others have fetishized me nearly to the point that I became a god to them, and there are even some slash fiction and audio edits that I wish I never came across. Some were funny, but others not so much. Back when I still had to complete my military service, a fan found the location to my dorm and started cutting herself.”

Your jaw drops.

“She told me that if I left, then she’ll kill herself.”

You knew that fans go to the extreme for their idols, but some of the stories have been exaggerated beyond the point of realism that they’re nothing more than passive stories attempting to get the spotlight. However, hearing personal experience makes it all too real.

“What did you do?”

“I froze. How do you react when a stranger tells you that you’re going to be the reason that they’re going to kill themselves? Luckily there was security to pull her away...but it’s something that I can never get out of my head. I couldn’t never understand what her intentions were. Was I really that important in her life, or was that her threatening me?”

V curls his knees up and rests his cheek on them, chuckling as he thinks about his short but fun time with Taehyung.

“Maybe that’s why I really wanted to talk to Taehyung. I don’t think it’s hit me that he’s not human, and that’s because he’s the most humane person I’ve met in a long time. It’s nice talking to him without my pessimism telling me that he only wants to talk to me because I’m famous. I learned pretty quickly that the more popular you are, the less real you look in other people’s eyes.”

You and millions of other people will never truly understand what V goes through, no matter how descriptive he is. Due to his image, he can’t even talk about this with fans or the public without the concern of backlash. Surely there will be people who will support him, but others will come out and criticize him for not taking immediate action. It’s easy to put someone down when you’re not the one stuck in the situation.

“...Thanks for telling me this.” You mutter, twiddling your thumbs.

He chuckles. “Why are you thanking me?”

“It must’ve been hard to talk about this, especially since we don’t know each other that well. Kinda shows that you trust me and Taehyung.”

“No, I’m only telling you because you told me a secret that nobody else knows,” V stands up, exhaling as he pats the snow off of his pants. “Today was actually the last day I’ll be in your city.”

You had forgotten that V came here for work. For the time that you two spent with him, V made it feel as though he were a longtime friend who came to visit. Despite the short period, you felt like a bond was built with him, and it feels like it was just yesterday when he first came across your neighborhood. Whenever you look at him, you thought about high school when his band meant the world to many people. You don’t exactly feel nostalgic, but a new door opening.

“Taehyung might be looking for you. We should go back inside because you must be cold.”

“I’m fine.”

“Liar. Your nose is red and runny.” He laughs.

You jolt, lowering your head and using your index finger to rub your nose. You’re so embarrassed that he had to see you in this condition that you blush. When you look at V, his face is as clear as the sky—no bumps, no facial scars, nothing. He must be wearing makeup to cover it, so it’s no wonder you can’t see any flaws on his face.

From the window of your living room stands Taehyung, watching as you interact with V. He’s never seen you interact with anyone other than himself, so seeing you blushing and smiling with V makes him feel uneasy. This emotion that he’s been feeling these past couple of days are becoming too much for him, and each day it just builds up more and more until he can’t bring himself to look at you. He presses his fingers on the window, questioning his own self-worth as he continues watching you converse with the real V.

------

Before the night ended, V gave you his phone number just in case either you or Taehyung felt like talking to him. He said that he’d like to continue with this friendship because every day felt pleasant, so of course you accepted his contact information. From what it seems, Taehyung is okay with it as well. He didn’t directly tell you if he wanted to talk to him again, so you assumed that he wants to.

One of the most dreadful things about starting the New Year is returning to work after a long vacation, so it was hard for you to go back to the usual schedule of leaving the house. As per usual, you tell Taehyung that you’re leaving, and you head off to work.

“I’ll see you later today. Maybe when I come back, we can watch a movie.”

Taehyung nods his head. “Okay.”

Ever since V left, Taehyung has been somewhat distant from you, but you think that it may be because he misses V. You know that if you were to pry more, then he would be more inclined to not answer you, so you let time heal his temporary ache in the meantime.

When you leave through the front door, you felt this eerie vibe from out of nowhere. You can’t quite explain it, but you definitely feel it. What you feel are two, dagger eyes on you. You look around, initially thinking that it was Taehyung being stare-y again, but the atmosphere didn’t feel the same. This stare felt...dreary. But you thought that it was just you, and you decide to ignore it, thinking that it might all in your head.

As Taehyung watches you walk out of the front door, he notices something strange from the corner of his eyes. He rotates them to what caught his attention, but it hid in the bushes before he got a glimpse of it. He found it unusual, as it’s not common for anyone or any animal to be scurrying around the neighborhood, and there was something from the corner of his mind, telling him that it may not be good.

And that feeling never went away for both you and Taehyung. Every day before and after work, you feel these heavy eyes on you, watching every move you make. You try to play it off as you being paranoid and didn’t tell Taehyung about it, but it’s getting to the point where you couldn’t ignore it anymore; there’s no doubt that you feel a third presence. It can’t be V because he and his band moved on to the next city, so you can’t think of anyone else.

Today you return home, and Taehyung does his usually greeting of hugging you and welcoming you back home.

You hug him back. “How was your day, Taehyung?”

“Good. I was writing in my journal again.”

“That’s great.”

You take off your shoes, tossing your purse to the couch and walking to the kitchen. Taehyung follows you, staring at you while you make yourself a cup of orange juice. You two talk amongst each other about trivial topics, and while chatting, you two move to the living room. Just like every year, you feel as though this holiday was too short, almost as if you barely had any time to be with Taehyung.

You sit by the couch where you’re positioned to see the window to the front yard. Taehyung sits on the couch opposite of you, listening to every word that comes out of your mouth. While talking, you notice someone peering into your front window. At first, you thought it was a passerby, but they don’t move from their spot. This young girl begins taking photos of your house, gidding at each picture she saves.

As strange as it seems, you try to ignore it, thinking that she’ll eventually go away, but it only gets worse when her friends show up. They huddle amongst themselves, cackling about something. They take more pictures, and it unnerves you. Noticing that you’ve been staring out the window for quite some time, Taehyung turns around and sees the girls.

“Taehyung, stay here.” You get up from the couch, not letting your eyes off the girls.

Taehyung almost stands up, but your raise your hand, signaling him not to move anymore than this. You put on your shoes and walk out of your front door. When they hear the front door opening, they begin squealing under their breaths, and you raise an eyebrow as you get closer to them.

“Hello, is there something going on here?”

The girls mutter to each other in low voices, huddled in a circle like in American football games. Eventually, the girls push one of them toward you. The girl in front of you looks flustered, hands behind her back and cheeks red.

“H-hi there...w-w-we were just wondering if V from BTS lives in that house.” The girl stutters out.

Your eyes widen at her question, and that feeling of foreboding resurfaces similar to when V came here. This time, you don’t know if they’re talking about V or Taehyung, but either way, it’s not good that they spotted him.

“I’m staying in my grandparents’ house down the street,” one of the girls points to her left. “And I kept seeing V going in that house.”

“Can we take a picture with him?”

With your jaw hanging, you shake your head, taking each step backwards slowly. “N-no. I’m going to have to ask you girls to leave.”

You turn around and dash back inside, slamming the door from behind. You lean on the door, staring blankly at the carpet as Taehyung runs to your side.

“Are you okay?”

You look up at Taehyung, unsure of what to tell him or where to start. Your worst fear is coming to life, and you might’ve put Taehyung into danger. You look through the hole on the door, and the girls have left. He blinks, and you try to compose yourself.

“I’m going to call V.”

------

V falls silent on the other side after you explained everything. You wait impatiently for him to respond, hoping that he won’t leave you hanging. Taehyung is sitting next to you, his head tilted and confused.

“(Y/N)...I’m so sorry...I didn’t mean for this to happen to both you and Taehyung. I can send you security or have you stay at a nearby hotel or…”

“I think we’re fine now. I just wanted to let you know. They might’ve thought that you were still here.”

“Alright, if anything else happens, then you have to tell me as soon as possible.”

You hang up the phone, and you sigh. Earlier definitely scared you a lot because you thought that the situation was going to escalate. Now that you had some time to think, those fans might’ve come to the realization that V is in another city. But you can’t shake off that anxious feeling, especially since one of the girls is staying at a house nearby.

Taehyung scoots closer to you, closing the gap between you and him. He must’ve sensed how worried you are, so he wraps his arm around you and pulls you in for a hug. Your face lands on his chest, and since his chest isn’t soft, there was a thump sound. It’s been a while since you two held onto each other like this, so it’s soothing.

“I’m sorry.”

You look up. “For what?”

“You called Mr. V because I’m not reliable enough to protect you…”

“What?!” You pull yourself back. “No, it’s not like that!”

You called him partially because you wanted to let him be aware, but also because of what he said about his fans taking things to the extreme. You thought that he would understand, that’s all.

“V knows about how to deal with fans better than we both do. It has nothing to do with you.”

However, Taehyung doesn’t seem all that convinced. “But I still want to protect you. You’re always the one doing everything for me.”

There’s something off about Taehyung, and it’s starting to make you worry. “You’ve been quiet lately. Tell me what’s wrong.”

You give him an intense stare, dying to hear his answer. It’s so rare for Taehyung not to tell you anything, so it’s making you think that he no longer trusts you. You want to do anything you can to fix that.

But before he can give you an answer, your phone rings, which startles you. You look down to see V’s contact number. You glance at Taehyung, letting him know that you have to take this call. He nods, and you accept the number. Although, the moment you cut off Taehyung to answer V, you feel you’ve just distanced yourself from Taehyung even more.

------

You were too naive thinking that that would’ve been the only time you experience strangers standing around your house. Within a few days, it’s escalated to the point where there’s a bigger group of people in your front yard. You can’t even walk out through the entrance anymore because you’ll be enclosed in a circle of unwanted attention, asking to see V.

Today is a weekend, so luckily for you, you don’t have to go to work. However, there’s an even bigger crowd since not many people work on Saturdays. You watch them through the window with your curtains down, biting on your nails as you anxiously wait for them to leave. It’s mainly teenage-to-young adults by your front lawn.

You update the situation with V, and now concerned for you and Taehyung’s well-being, he said that he’s going to do something about it. However, with his tour that’s still going on, V can’t exactly be there to help, but he’s going to try and bring some security. To avoid more attention and increase the chances of putting Taehyung in danger, you decide not to call the police, as it would also affect V as well. The crowd is not large enough to where it’s a hindrance, at most, seven or so people loiter in your area. But still, you don’t feel right letting them stay in your place.

“(Y/N), you should sit down.” Taehyung comments, watching you nervously pace back and forth in the living room.

You stop and smile, but you return to your anxious walking. Seeing as you won’t listen to him, Taehyung takes you by the hand and pulls you down to sit with him. Though he was rather aggressive, Taehyung knew that if he didn’t do anything then you wouldn’t have listened.

“This house is our safe haven, right? That’s why you kept me in here for so long,” Taehyung brushes your hair behind your ear. “So they won’t trespass.”

You chuckle, relieving from the stress. “You’re right...and if they do, then I’ll definitely call the police.”

You don’t like this amount of attention from strangers. It took you awhile to get used to V, so the sudden appearance of a crowd is too much for you to handle. You wish you never welcomed V inside your home. If you didn't, then you wouldn’t have gotten stuck in this situation. Because of your simple decision, it brought you and Taehyung unwanted attention.

You try your hardest to fight off the tears, but you feel so hopeless. Instead, you embrace Taehyung, letting your body fall onto him. Despite his hard exterior, you feel the same amount of comfort you’d feel when hugging any other person. You actually don’t remember how it feels to be in the arms of another human. It’s always been Taehyung. He claims that you’re his first everything, but he’s also your first everything. That feeling of being loved by another person was something you haven’t felt in years. Taehyung may be imitating the ‘love’ that you give him in return, but it’s better than nothing.

“Taehyung...a part of me is worried because they might do something to you, but at the same time, another part of me doesn’t want to share you with the world.”

You hide your face in his chest, finally confessing a bit of your selfishness.

“I’m scared that they’ll see you as a monster, but I’m also scared that you’ll find something better out there. You always say that you don’t do enough for me, but...keeping me sane is the best thing anyone can ever do for me,” You snicker in a distant tone. “‘Sane’...I think I’m as obsessed with you just as my dad was with V.”

You pull yourself back, and Taehyung cups both of your cheeks. He stares back with those dreamy eyes of his. He’s always observing with those eyes, and perhaps you’ve stared into those eyes for so long that they don’t look like glass eyes.

“I don’t mind. I’ll be yours forever if you want me to...and if you want me gone, then I won’t hesitate to do so. If anything I…”

Your phone goes off, and it’s V’s number. You leave Taehyung alone to pick up the call. “Hello? Yes...yea, we’re fine...Yes, yes. Oh, will that be fine? I mean, I think so...but…” You turn to look at Taehyung. “I’m not sure...yea but...okay...I understand. Thank you so much, V.”

You hang up and put your phone back in your pocket.

“V said that after tonight’s concert, if the people are still here, then he’ll have some people come over and tell them to leave.”

You sigh in relief, dropping your entire body onto the couch. You’re glad that this will be resolved tonight because you couldn’t stand going to work with the girls trying to ask if V is in your house.

“What did he say?”

“He sent security to tell the people to go away. They should come tonight.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything immediately. You thought that he’d be relieved too, but he doesn’t say or do anything to express what he’s feeling.

“Okay.”

------

Just as V said he’d do, the security eventually came and swept the people away. Some retaliated, but when the threat of police came into the conversation, that’s when they decided to leave you two alone. It’s nice seeing your front yard being vacant again, and now you can sleep peacefully.

You crawl into bed, finding Taehyung once again reading Pinocchio by your bedside. He hasn’t been reading lately because of V, but it’s not a surprise that he goes back to the book that he loves the most. You lean over to see him reading the page where Pinocchio and the woodmaker are stuck in the mouth of a whale.

“You know what, Taehyung? You’ve read the book a million times, but you’ve never seen the movie.”

“It’s fine. I like to use my imagination and picture everything in my head.”

“You’re always watching documentaries and news, but you never watch movies and cartoons. Why is that?”

“...I...don’t know. I think I like seeing things that feels real. Movies and shows don’t feel the same knowing that they are fake stories created by people just imitating to be real. Books make me think, and at least it makes me feel the most human,” Taehyung flips to the next page. “But whenever I read Pinocchio, I never understood how the fairy was able to give him a personality and everything. Pinocchio knew how to speak and walk without having to learn. He came to life because of fairy dust. When I look at myself...I struggled with all of that. I couldn’t grasp anything easily like how Pinocchio did. Even now, I still struggle with using my hands.”

Taehyung stares at his hand with the open wrist cut. You can tell that he detests his own hands because of how unrealistic they are compared to a human’s. But you take his hand, holding them gently to let him know that you never thought of his hands as disgusting.

“Pinocchio is a made-up story, and you’re real. In real life, people struggle a lot, and sometimes it takes years for them to fix themselves. If Pinocchio was based on a real story, then the book would’ve been thousands of pages long.”

“(Y/N)...”

“Yea?”

“In the story, Pinocchio died saving his creator, and after that, he turned into a real boy. But what would happen if he didn’t sacrifice himself? Would he have remained a puppet for eternity? Or would the spell fade away eventually, and he would become an ordinary doll again?” Taehyung looks up from the book and at you.

You try to think of an answer, but nothing comes to mind. It’s something that you never stop to wonder. What if he didn’t save the woodmaker?

“I don’t know.”

Seeing that you don’t have an answer to his question, he returns to the page, tracing his wooden finger down Pinocchio’s face. “To run out of time and return to being a lifeless doll, or to surpass the life expectancy of the one who cares for you...either way, they’re both scary thoughts.”

Taehyung closes the book.

“Either I’m going to fade away or my body is going to fall apart...I’m scared.”

Taehyung has never once said that he was scared of anything, and maybe the reason why nothing has ever scared him is because death scares him more than anything. Years ago when he was attacked by the dog, the time when he was scratched by a cat, and those strangers standing by your lawn, none of those scare him because there was something scarier crawling on his back, and that was his unpredictable ending.

“Don’t be scared! If a body part breaks, then I can fix it. And...if it makes you feel better, my father once told me that souls are those who are looking for another body to reincarnate into. We were all once souls that belonged to someone a generation before us, we just happen to forget who we were in our previous lives because we don’t have enough space to remember everything.”

“But...what if either of us disappears and forget everything?”

“Hmm...then somehow and some way, we’ll return to this home! After all, this is our permanent home. We may not remember ourselves, but when we feel or see something, it’ll bring back memories. By the way, I never got to fix your hand. How about tomorrow, let’s do it?”

Taehyung nods, thinking about your words. You always find the right words to make him feel better, which is why you’re precious to him. To not be able to see your smile every day will tear him apart, and he would rather be mauled by a dog a thousand times than to be separated from you.

“About Mr. V...I…” Taehyung opens his mouth to say something, but he shuts it quickly. “Never mind. It’s getting late. You should go to bed.”

He gets up and turns off the lamp to let you sleep. Rather than sit on a chair to watch you sleep, he heads downstairs. You know there’s still something else bothering him, but he won’t cough it up. What else is there that he’s afraid of telling you?

------

Taehyung sits by the windowsill, staring at the full moon. By this point, you’ve already fallen asleep. He keeps thinking about the past few days, having so many things happen at once in a short amount of time. It felt as though V was barely even here, despite being the only other human he’s ever spoke to. Time flew by before he knew it, and now it’s returned to the ordinary life he lived with you.

He rolls up his sleeve to look at his worn-out arm, noticing that the hole has become bigger. There are also patches of dirt ingrained in his skin. Just seeing his arm makes him anxious that his arm isn’t sturdy enough to lift heavy objects anymore. Despite that, he still doesn’t want you to replace this arm, and it’s because it’ll remind him that his body parts can easily be replaced, just as he can be replaced for the real V. As hard as he tries to get rid of the image of you two sitting together, it can’t help but think how V is a better match for you, not some makeshift figurine like him.

To distract himself, he picks up his journal that he left on the coffee table. He flips through the pages to skim all the past entries that he’s done. Typically, whenever he finishes a journal, you would put them stacked in a box for safe keeping. One day, he’d like to go through all the entries he’s done and reminisce about the memories he’s made. He opens to a blank page and begins writing.

Suddenly, Taehyung is alerted by the sound of the backyard door unlocking. He shoots his head up, cocking his head as he wonders what could’ve resulted in the click of the lock.

“Oh my god, did you do it?”

“I got it, I got it!!!”

The faint sound of two girls squealing can be heard from the kitchen. He sets the journal down, slowly getting up from the couch and motioning to the source of the noise.

“It feels so weird that we’re in the same house as V! But do you think V is really here?”

“I’m sure!! I swear I saw him.”

The girls continue murmuring to themselves, oblivious to Taehyung’s presence. He stealthily walks towards them and can see a small circular light moving around, assuming that it’s a flashlight. The girls tiptoe while he closes the gap between them, and as he moves, Taehyung thinks of different scenarios in appearing in front of the two strangers. Will they accept him like you and V, or will they run away in fear?

Once both Taehyung and the two girls stand at the corner that divides the living from the kitchen, they both freeze. The three of them stand in silence, making sure that they can hear if there is potential danger that lingers on the other side of the wall.

“Do you think that lady is still asleep?”

“I’m sure. Who the hell wakes up this late anyway?”

“You’re right...I just have a gut feeling that there’s another person here, and it’s creeping me out.”

Taehyung thought he was quiet enough to where he is presence is invisible to the girls, but they felt his presence. He peeks over the corner and sees the two girls with their backs facing him. They don’t notice him whatsoever, so he stands still, figuring out what else to do now.

He becomes so focused in trying not to alert the girls that he doesn’t pay attention to his surroundings. Taehyung accidentally hits his hand against a nearby vase, creating the sound of glass tipping over. He was able to catch it before it fell...but focusing on the vase was a huge mistake. Before he knew it, there was a strong force thrust against his cheek—strong enough that he falls to the ground. Typically, he never feels pain, but this sensation beneath his eye feels dented.

“Oh fuck…”

Both girls stare at Taehyung with wide eyes, one of them holding the flashlight with the light facing upward. The black color on the edge of the flashlight has been scratched off due to it having been used as a weapon and hitting Taehyung against the face. The girls look at each other in horror as the realization hits them of what they’ve just done.

The girl with the flashlight shines it on Taehyung’s face, but he’s too distraught at the dent in his cheek. He tries to blink, but the dent is preventing him from doing so. When they recognize Taehyung’s face, he isn’t met with squeals of admiration, but jaw-dropping silence that they’ve just injured who they think is their favorite idol. Taehung strokes the crater in his face, revealing his ball-joint hands. When he looks up, unable to get a good look at their faces due to the light blinding him, the girls see that this isn’t V, but a monster. They scream at the sight of his artificial face, running out through the back door.

Immediately, you jump out of bed at the sound of the girls’ screams and dash downstairs. You turn on the lights to find Taehyung on his knees, staring at the back door. You breathe heavily from the adrenaline and fear of not knowing what happened.

“Taehyung?!”

He looks up after you called for him, and you see the reason for the screams. He was hit hard enough that his cheek has been pushed inward...and his glass eye is cracked.

You run toward him, falling to your knees as well and putting both hands around his shoulders. You cup his cheek, pulling his head up to see the injury on his face and your expressing changing to horror as you see that the damage is near impossible to fix. There is nothing you can do to replace his face, and your expression says it all.

Taehyung wraps his hand around yours, seeing if he can find a way to soothe you. “I think I’m fine…”

“What are you talking about?! No you’re not!”

Whenever Taehyung’s body was harmed, he would look indifferent, but unlike before, he looks as if he can feel the pain on his face, especially in the eye area as he’s covering his cracked eye. You move his hand away, seeing as his iris is uneven, and in return, Taehyung has a difficult time seeing your face, as there’s a black line drawn across from his face and making your face crooked.

You stand up, pulls Taehyung by the arms to help him up as well. However, Taehyung loses grip and when he tries to stand, he falls back down. You try again, but fearing that you might rip his weaker hand off, you stop. He looks like he’s in a daze, unable to keep his eyes focused.

“(Y/N)...I can’t feel my fingers.”

“It’s okay, Taehyung...Everything’s gonna be alright...Just...let me help you to my room.” You try your best to remain calm, but something in the back of your head knows that this will not turn out for the better.

------

You were able to get Taehyung into your bed without him struggling. Normally, he would say that he’s alright and is in no need of rest, but with the damage to his head, it seems as though he’s too weak to even do that.

You stand in front of the room that you’ve kept locked for many years—the basement. Taking in a deep breath, you unlock the door with a key, opening it and revealing a dark staircase to Taehyung’s birthplace. You’ve avoided going to the dreaded basement as it would remind you of your father’s death. However, it is the place that your father keeps all of his books about black magic.

Because of the lack of presence in the basement, the light switch is buried in dust. The flip of the switch causes the particles to fly everywhere. You cover your nostrils with your sleeve, looking for the bookshelf. Being toppled with dust, you wipe it off to read the titles until you find the right book. Feeling too nauseous to stay in this room any longer, you run back upstairs and turn off the lights behind you.

Flipping through the pages of the aged book, the fonts are fading away. Thankfully, most of the pages are decipherial. You skim through the pages in hopes that you’ll find something that’ll help you fix Taehyung. After reading a few more pages, you found the page that might help, but you don’t feel too excited about it.

The sun rises by the time you finish reading. You return to your bedroom, and Taehyung turns his head to face you. However, his broken eye makes it hard for him to look at you, but he knew based on how silent you were that you did not come to bring good news.

“Hey...Taehyung, how are you feeling?” You try smiling, but the tips of your lips are trembling.

“I can’t move my fingers.”

You bite your bottom lip, sitting by the edge of the bed as Taehyung tries to reach out to you. The last time he struggled with controlling his body was when he first met you.

“I’m sorry Taehyung...because of me, I couldn’t protect you from those intruders. If only I had persisted V to take us somewhere safe then…”

“It’s okay. Don’t beat yourself up for it.”

Your eyes begin to well up, but no tears fall. “Why wouldn’t I beat myself up for this!? Taehyung, I read my dad’s books, and it’s nearly impossible to fix you this time. Because I was being careless, you’re going to…”

Saying the words would make you break down, so you hold back that lump in your throat and remain calm. Brushing your bangs behind your ears, you clear your throat for the news that you never want to tell him.

“The eyes...are what kept your soul intact with your body, and they were the only body parts that I had to protect. If they are shattered, then there isn’t a barrier anymore and your soul will disperse. The only way to secure it again is if I find another body for you. Maybe a mannequin, or another lifesize doll, o-or even an actual human body…”

Your heart starts pounding at your dark thoughts, potentially tricking someone into giving their body to you, or go to the nearest store and steal a mannequin. In a moment of panic, anything seems possible as long as Taehyung is okay. He doesn’t even need to look like V.

Then...you start even thinking about taking V’s body. No one would notice that the old V is old, right? Besides, it’ll still be the same body that everyone loves, and this time, Taehyung would be able to do things his current body can’t do.

You feel something brush against your arm, and it’s Taehyung trying to get your attention. He knows that you’re the type to overthink things, and it’s painful seeing you struggle alone.

“Whatever you’re thinking...stop,” he pauses briefly. “I don’t...want you to find me another body. I don’t want you to meet the same end as your dad.”

That’s right—conducting black magic is like bending the world for your own desires, and for that, nature will punish you. Your father was killed for performing ungodly experiments, and it came back to him by taking his life.

“I don’t want to live knowing that my life brought another death, especially to someone who’s important to me. Besides...I don’t want to continue living in this body.”

“Wh-what?”

“It frustrates me that I can’t do the things that you can do, especially seeing how Mr. V can do it all that you don’t even need me.”

“Taehyung...don’t say that.”

By now, you can’t control your tears. You hold onto his hand tightly, despite him not even feeling it. It’s only been a few hours and his body has already drastically changed inside.

“I don’t want to spend the rest of my life knowing that you have to constrain yourself to me. The only pain I felt was seeing you fix me, but I couldn’t fix you. So please...let me die.”

All you can do now is sob at Taehyung’s last wish. It was always rare for him to make requests, but whenever he did, it was always a difficult one. You hold onto his hand tighter, unable to stop your wails as you’re about to lose the one you love.

“O-okay…”

“I don’t know how much time I have left...but I’d like to spend it with you, (Y/N).”

------

“(Y/N)...I...I’m so sorry. I’ll come to your house as soon as possible.”

“No, V, it’s okay. This is Taehyung’s decision too, and we should respect it.”

“Do you really expect me to just sit still and do nothing?! Why did you wait to tell me this days later?? I’m the reason why he’s dying!!” You could hear the desperation in his voice.

“It’s...okay. There’s nothing we can do now, but I just wanted to let you know anyways because you were Taehyung’s only friend.”

“(Y/N), I...I’m so sorry...I should’ve been more alerted. I feel so stupid for putting you two in danger. I promise, I’ll do whatever I can to make sure that you and Taehyung will be okay.”

You choke on your tears, wanting to believe in that hope, but knowing the reality that it’ll never come true.

“I did a little bit of research about souls, and it’s possible that once it leaves the body, it travels to another one. If I can somehow do that…”

“V, stop. I appreciate the help, but it’s not that easy. Anyways, I called you about that so...I have to hang up now.” Before you let him answer, you hang up the phone. You feel awful for closing off V, but you know you’ll break down while on the phone.

Taehyung is sitting on the couch, all dressed up to go outside and play in the snow. His shattered eye has worsened to the point where he’s missing shards of it, revealing a dark void behind his eyeballs. You’re also dressed to go outside to the winter season’s last snow day.

You sit next to Taehyung, helping him put on the gloves you gave him for Christmas, and you see the arm with the hole in his wrist.

“I never got the chance to replace that…”

“It’s okay. I prefer this arm anyways. Reminds me of all the memories we made together.”

You can’t find yourself to smile anymore, knowing that with each passing day, Taehyung is become more and more distant. He no longer has control over his body and practically a speaking doll; not even his mouth moves.

You help him up by wrap his arm around your neck and lift him up. Luckily for you, he’s light enough for you to drag him to the front door. You don’t care if people see you two anymore, and all you want to do is be with Taehyung.

You set him down on the front porch while you start building small snowmen for him to see. The atmosphere feels dead—no more Christmas music, no giddy laughter, just silence as you fulfill Taehyung’s last wish of building a snowman with you.

Unable to bear with this quiet mood, you feel the need to talk. “Taehyung, can you tell me a story?”

You also asked him in part to make sure that he’s still alive. Taehyung pauses for a long time, until he finally thought of something.

“There once was a woodmaker who wanted to have a son, so he created a puppet and named it Pinocchio. Pinocchio was granted to live, but he wasn’t a real boy yet until he proves that he’s a selfless person. But...he didn’t know how to show it because he didn’t know what was right from wrong. He felt lost because the moment he was born...his creator was already dead.”

Your ears perk up, not remembering this part of Pinocchio.

“Then came a beautiful but frightened woman who was brave enough to take care of the naive Pinocchio. He was nothing more than a blank slate, not knowing how to speak or walk, but she was patient. When the naive doll walked out of the house and was attacked by a ferocious beast, the woman held him in her arms, relieved that he was okay. And...that was the first time he felt something. He didn’t know what it was, but eventually he learned that what he felt was love, his first ever emotion.”

You stop making the small snowmen, having your back facing him but too afraid to look at him.

“But what came along with love was jealousy, as he was always afraid that she would leave the doll for a better version of himself. The model his creator used was smarter, more charming, and charismatic. While he was a somebody, the doll was a nobody. He was afraid that he’ll be tossed aside for the shinier version, so the doll lived in fear that the woman would fall for him. But...she didn’t. She stayed with the broken, uglier version, and the doll is so thankful that he wishes he could cry. He was happy that out of millions of people, he had at least one person who would remember his story. (Y/N)...I’m sorry you didn’t fall in love with the real Taehyung. You were probably expecting to be with the real one, but you ended up being stuck with me. You may not like me, but even until my last moments, I’m glad I could love you.”

You turn around to look at Taehyung, and with an ounce of strength that he has left, he leans over and manages to give you a peck on the lips. He couldn’t feel a single thing, but that action alone made him feel happy that he was able to express his immense love for you without words.

“Even though I couldn’t become a real human, thank you…(Y/N), for showing me your world.”

And with that, the last of Taehyung’s soul dissipates, leaving you with an empty doll sprawled on the floor. Small shards of his glass eye trickle down from his eye, reflecting the moon’s illumination and resembling that of tears.

Taehyung was only there for a margin of your life, but he impacted you so much. Because of him you changed for the better, giving you the hope of finding one person that would understand you. You lived with so many regrets, as there were so many opportunities to prevent Taehyung from arriving to his short-lived life. However, he was never happy with his body from the beginning, so perhaps it was better that his life ended the way it did.

You continue to sob with the two small snowmen in front of you as Taehyung’s lifeless body falls off of your shoulder. Though his expression hasn’t changed, you could feel that he was smiling when he left his body, ending his tale that was not meant to exist.

------

Epilogue

You couldn’t stop crying after reading the journals—entries made by a doll who was in love with his caretaker but couldn’t express it, so he wrote it down on these very pages. The journals have not aged well as they are wrinkly and yellow, but they are still legible. You found this man’s life to be unforgiving, as he was a wandering soul forced into a poorly-made body for the sake of man’s obsession. But the young woman’s life is just as tragic, as she soon died of a broken heart. Just like the doll’s physicality, the woman’s mentality was just as shattered.

You find this believable because all your life, you felt as though there was something missing within you. Your mother always said that you were a crybaby, and no one could ever figure out why, not even you. At times, you would wake up while in tears, knowing that a dream was the source but not remembering what it was about. You kept searching for answers, but each lead led to a deadend.

It wasn’t until you ran into an old man while crossing the busy city streets. He grabbed your arm as if he knew who you were, and initially you thought it was strange. It wasn’t until he sat you down and introduced himself as a former musician of a band who is now a dollmaker. He told you the story of his two friends who were in love with his each other, but their lives caused them to separate at the early stages of their romance. He said that you just so happen to look like the girl.

Before he left, he gave you an address and a stack of journals. When you got home, you read all the journals and that was when you figured out what you’ve been missing your entire life. Your previous life never felt fulfilled, so you must’ve seeked for a more satisfying life but had forgotten about it. You knew that in that moment, you had to find Taehyung, even if he doesn’t remember you.

...You make your way to the address that the old man gave you, and it’s a dollmaker shop. You could tell that this place was once a home converted into a store, but this place also feels sentimental. You’re nervous about entering the shop, wondering what awaits on the other side. But standing still won’t resolve anything, so you force your legs to press forward until you inches away from the door.

It feels as though your heart will jump out of your chest from the anticipation, almost making you not want to open the door, but at the same time motivating you to do it. What will you do in the store? What if what you’re looking for isn’t there? What are you looking for? All of these questions hovering around but no answers, and the only way you’ll answer them is by going through the store.

You swing the door open, with the door hitting a bell just hanging from above. It’s a small antiquette-themed place. There are dolls of all sorts on the shelves and limb parts on cabinets with glass doors. The place is surrounded by the smell of oak wood. You peek your head to the side, inspecting the shelves of all the dolls from brand-named to the wooden kinds.

You hear the sound of footsteps coming from what looks to formally have been a kitchen but remodeled to be a backroom.

“Hello! How may I help you?”

You perk your head up to see a familiar man you’ve never met before walking to the cashier. Your jaw drops at the sight of him, knowing exactly who he is, despite looking different than before. Your bottom lip stutters as you try to comprehend the situation laid before you. There stands the man you’ve missed your entire life—that longing that you never knew you had is being fulfilled.

The man standing before you is no longer a doll, but a real human. You don’t know how that happened, but judging by the old man, he must’ve done something to transfer his soul into another body. Whatever the reason, it’s surreal to see him as a human, even though you’ve never seen how he looked like as a doll. You don’t even know how you looked like in the past.

After a wave of shock, you’re now experiencing fear, concerned that while you may recall bits and pieces of your past life’s memories, this man may be unaware. You feel choked up in the throat, but it’s too early to cry.

But that uncertain feeling is swept away once the man freezes and stares at you for a long period. Without a single word, you knew that he remembers you as well, and you feel relieved. There’s a strong signal between you two, but neither of you are saying or doing anything. It’s an unusual feeling of having felt as though you’ve known the other person, but at the same time, looking into the eyes of a stranger.

“T-Taehyung…?”

He chuckles. “Taehyung is the name of this shop’s owner, but he was also called V when he was still a singer.”

You’re disappointed and embarrassed that you mistaken him for someone else. You feel the need to run away after humiliating yourself.

“I-I’m sorry…”

“But...it’s been a long time since someone called me that.”

Your eyes widen.

“You must be (Y/N), right?”

You giggle, your eyes getting teary. “That’s not my name either, but that name is nostalgic.”

‘Taehyung’ cocks his head to the side, smiling as he gazes at you, falling in love with you a second time as you’re just as beautiful as you were before. “Well, I look a bit different, don’t I?”

Instinctively, you jump onto him, letting out all of your tears, feeling as though another being has taken over your body—this other ‘force’ being the person from your previous life being able to hold her loved one again. “Taehyung, I’m sorry it took me so long to find you...Even though I became a new person, I just couldn’t move on.”

Taehyung is puzzled, unsure whether he should hug you back. But when he feels the soft texture of your skin, he loses all composure and begins to cry as well. All the emotions he couldn’t express before is finally released, holding onto you as tight as he could and not wanting to let go. He never knew your skin felt this soft, had he known it was this soft then he would’ve never left your side.

Taehyung knew from the moment he was created, he would never turn into a human like Pinocchio, as the world is crueler than in storybooks. He knew...but he still tried being as selfless as he could. However, his determination to become selfless was selfish because he was driven to be with you for the rest of his life. He was scared that you’d fall in love with the real V and leave him for good, but seeing as you couldn’t even leave him alone in this world, he can’t help but be grateful that you’re the one he loves—in both his past life as a doll, and as a real boy.

In the end, Taehyung got his wish granted and became a human, and there is nothing else he can ever ask for.

“Welcome back…(Y/N).”

[End]

A/N: Thank you to everyone who read this until the very end!!!!!! :D I was very iffy about making this story because technically you don’t end up with the real Taehyung...so I hope you all enjoyed it and please tell me whether you like it or not. ^_^

Masterlist

[quarterfromcanon]

2019 Fic Writing Roundup

I was tagged by my lovely friend @catty-words.

Total 2019 Word Count: 58,159

Total 2019 Hits: Asdfghjkl; Oh gosh, it’s much harder to tell when the work is only on Tumblr!  I’ll tally up the notes from there to get the closest approximation I can. It looks like there are 174 total (a mix of likes and comments) on the pieces that I posted from this past year.

Other 2019 AO3 Stats: N/A, although I did finally join AO3 *this* year, so next time around there’ll actually be things to put here! :)

Total 2018 Word Count: Published? None. I think I might have tried writing a little bit of something for myself somewhere in there, but I didn’t get back to any kind of public fandom writing until 2019.

Total 2018 Hits: None. What a difference a year can make! I look forward to comparing 2019 to whatever’s yet to come in 2020!

Other 2018 AO3 Stats: N/A

links and titles to 2019 works

Oooh, this is actually a good opportunity to list them chronologically rather than in publication sequence. Let me see if I can get them sorted. (If, however, you’d prefer to read them in the order that they were published, you can click here and simply open the installments in reverse, since Tumblr displays things oldest-to-newest.) All of the following were written for the Crazy Ex-Girlfriend fandom and feature Heather x Valencia as their central pairing.

1. Barrier  [1,385 words] - Following where we last saw them in 1.09, Josh and his friends continue their beach day now sans Rebecca’s presence. Consequently, Valencia’s critical eye falls on the only other woman in their company - Heather.

2. Unexpected [3,003 words] - The conclusion of 1.18 leaves Valencia with a lot of emotional baggage to unpack. As one of West Covina’s most frequented locales, Home Base is the first place that springs to mind where she might chase away her sorrows (or perhaps just air them out verbally while all other involved parties are away at Jayma’s wedding). Heather finds herself pulled into comfort and commiseration despite her efforts to avoid involvement.

3. Lost Control and Tumbled Overboard Gladly [3,265 words] - Heather goes to her parents’ home for the first holiday visit since moving out on her own. She has her new friend Valencia in tow. Sincere conversation and the rare allowance of vulnerability break down Heather’s walls with an ease that takes her by surprise.

4. Such Sweet Nothing [1,362 words] - Valencia and Heather return to V’s apartment after their Labor Day afternoon of story-swapping and quality time together. Valencia revels in the joyful acquirement of the second gal pal of her adult life. Heather contends with the dawning realization that her interest in Valencia may not be purely for friendship.

5. There’s A Reason Not to Want This (But I Forgot) [2,418 words] - Internet sleuthing with Rebecca pulls Valencia right back into a Josh fixation spiral. Heather must also face some unresolved feelings: namely, a crush now so intense it can no longer be denied.

6. Habits [3,599 words] - The desire to protect Valencia’s heart overrides the instinct to shield her own, and so Heather ends the self-imposed avoidance of her company. She arrives on V’s doorstep with a helpful cover story and some unfortunate news that needs to be broken gently.

7. I Want Not to Want Anything [1,314 words] - Heather Davis gets Santa Ana Winded.

8. Breathless [3,673 words] - A talk with Heather about Rebecca’s impending marriage to Josh leads Valencia to reassess what matters to her. A rosé-fueled jaunt to a local green space gives rise to the persistent inkling that what - or rather who - she really wants may be a lot closer to her than she’s ready to admit.

9. No One’s Really Got It Figured Out Just Yet [3,289 words] - Valencia throws the bachelorette party for Rebecca. Gurl Group antics and H+V flirting tactics set to hits from the mid ’90s and 2000s ensue. 

10. Evading [2,207 words] - In the wake of events from 3.05 and 3.06, Heather and Valencia have a much needed heart-to-heart. They put some important truths into words while treading lightly around a few unspoken facts so delicate they’re best left in the margins.

11. How Long Do You Plan to Keep Me at the Back of Your Mind? [2,442 words] - An evening welcoming Valencia’s girlfriend Beth to be an honorary member of the Gurl Group doesn’t go quite as smoothly as planned when Heather has a difficult time harnessing her lingering feelings.

12. You and Me, Always Between the Lines [1,828 words] - Now that she has spoken with all of her immediate family members and closest friends, Valencia is prepared to announce her first romantic relationship with a woman on social media. In Beth’s absence, she seeks the moral support of her best friend. Heather is readily by her side for this next big step in Valencia’s coming out journey.

13. Gradation [2,503 words] - Valencia’s time with Beth is at an end and, in her hour of heartbreak, she returns to the same place for comfort as the previous occasion when she found herself suddenly single: across the bar from Heather.

14. Rough Draft [2,625 words] - Valencia and Heather FINALLY get together. Valencia experiences her own “Oh My God, I Think I Like You” freak out.

15. Strategy [1,212 words] - Heather and Valencia have a stay-at-home date night featuring deliberately cringey pick up lines and tangled limbs on a couch in the dark.

16. Verity [3,834 words] - Heather temporarily resumes her role as Valencia’s assistant coordinator when they plan a vow renewal celebration for Paula and Scott. On this night, the recently remarried couple may not be the only two pouring out their hearts in a room full of loved ones...

17. Different and the Same [1,035 words] - Valencia and Heather just moved into their own place. They spend their first morning there together and make good use of the privacy and freedom this new residence affords.

18. Finishing Touches [1,157 words] - Heather and Valencia personalize the interior of their new living space. The situation soon devolves into paint-splattered hijinks.

19. Patterns in the Light [1,058 words] - Despite the fact that they are literally cohabitating and have professed their feelings for each other, Valencia remains a clumsily flirty nerd and I love her for it. Heather does, too.

20. Sage [1,324 words] - After being trapped in a car with someone she didn’t want to be trapped in a car with, Heather returns covered in a dead woman’s ashes. Valencia’s time as a ghost-beleaguered home energy cleanser has arrived at last. She is uniquely qualified to save the day.

21. Portage [1,707 words] - Heather has plans for a couple’s trip with Valencia. The only obstacle is keeping it a secret between the two of them.

22. The Courage and the Strength I Need [1,957 words] - Valencia struggles during Heather’s business trip because it is their first time apart since becoming a couple. They FaceTime to ease the pain of distance and talk about their future.

23. Wanna Be With You All Alone [1,237 words] - Heather comes back from the aforementioned work travel to find that Valencia has made special welcome home arrangements.

24. Midnight, Fright and Candlelight [1,426 words] - A quiet evening is interrupted by a power outage. Heather and Valencia find a surprisingly wholesome and G-rated way to pass the time. 

25. Next to You [1,550 words] - The big yearly Davis Family Reunion quickly approaches. Valencia prepares to accompany Heather to this event and be introduced to many members of her extended family.

26. Warm Whispers [1,683 words] - Heather and Valencia just want to be all cute and domestic and spend the morning fooling around. Their cats disrupt these pursuits in typical feline fashion.

27. “When We’re Together, Darling, Every Night Is Halloween.” [1,228 words] - Heather and Valencia get ready to attend a Gurl Group Halloween party. Their second annual couple’s costume? Gomez and Morticia Addams. 

28. #afewofmyfavoritethings [2,838 words] - Nathaniel, Rebecca, Valencia, Heather, Paula, Scott, and Tommy all rent a cabin for vacation. This piece follows them through a day of wintertime fun. Pure fluffiness here and I had the best time writing every second of it.

Favorite Fic: Probably #afewofmyfavoritethings. I packed it with elements I personally love and moments I was hoping my new friends in the fandom would like. Plus, it was honestly just so good for my soul to write these characters in a soft world where they could engage in classic snow day activities and enjoy each other’s company.

Hardest Fic: I knew there were a few installments of Femslash February where I wrote whole paragraphs or even pages I didn’t keep/decided to revise, but I was pretty sure I also remembered at least one where I wrote an entire separate piece. My sleep schedule was, shall we say, not advisable during February but it was also easily the most exhilarating month of my year. I tracked down the evidence of that rewrite and it turns out the incident I recalled was for Unusual Kiss (the prompt for Day 4 of FF). The original involved something to do with butterfly kisses because, evidently, my inclination to link Valencia to winged beings knows no bounds. I’ve got to admit that I’m still fond of the concept of Valencia giving Heather a subtle “kiss” during a hug in that painfully frightening time before Beth when she was afraid to outright kiss a woman in any way that couldn’t be dismissed as platonic. There’s a good chance an interaction of that nature could appear somewhere in the full story. I am notoriously drawn to that angst period of undisclosed pining so the temptation is quite strong. Still, I’m glad I used the version I actually posted and saved elements of the first draft for later. Fragments of their conversation from the original will probably make it into the final tale, but I think I prefer to sprinkle them across several exchanges instead of divulging them all at once.

Do You Plan to Take Prompts in 2020? Sort of yes and sort of no. I am participating in the Crazy Ex-Girlfriend Valentine Exchange, which involves a prompt-esque note from the participant each of us were assigned as our guide to spark inspiration for the gift. It’s also possible that there’ll be some writing prompt list posted somewhere along the way just like Femslash February was last year, and I’ll end up wanting to join the fun. Other than that, though, I’ll mainly stick to the one writing project in an effort to hone my focus.

What was the best thing about 2019? I’d definitely say the bonding and interactions with other members of the fandom. The encouragement and support I received from them remains the primary motivation for me to keep writing and chasing after the ongoing goals I set for myself.

What was the worst thing about 2019? The most honest answer that my mind immediately supplied is death of a close relative. While that isn’t the sole reason for the dip in my creative output (especially since there were multiple months between my last published fic and the passing in question), I know it could certainly be counted among the contributing factors to an overarching writing problem I had. Even before my family’s loss, there was a shift in my thought process that only got worse once there was more on my plate in my personal life. There were many times I sat down wanting to write again but it felt too difficult and intimidating to commit words to the page. I couldn’t seem to transfer them from my mind to the keyboard and I’d invariably switch to doing something else. I developed this terrible internal conviction that insisted the larger fic I wanted to write wouldn’t work as well as the shorter installments. That gnawing insecurity would have me believe one month’s worth of well-received efforts was already such a marvel that anything beyond that point was somehow pushing my luck. Where did the mental voice originate and why couldn’t I shake it? It’s difficult to parse out but what I do know is that I’ve firmly decided 2020 is going to be a year I put it on silent. I know what it’ll mean to me for everything that’s been floating in my head to finally be told in one cohesive format, and to have the satisfaction of giving my favorite characters the ending my heart says they deserve. It’s a sense of closure that’s worth the pursuit.

Any last thoughts for 2019? The bad parts of the last twelve months made me want to essentially say “good riddance” to the year, but the good parts were far too treasured to wish all of 2019 away. I am so grateful for the new people I met and friendships that solidified during that time. I especially owe my most heartfelt appreciation to @catty-words, @notbang, and @monaiargancoconutsoy. Thank you for everything. <3

Goals for 2020

Finish. The. Fic.

I believe everyone I know who writes fanfic has already been tagged but, if you haven’t gotten the chance to look back over your writing year, by all means, use these questions to give it a go! :)

[srawesleyghuewrites]

More Than Anything - Chapter One

For desktop users: masterlist

For mobile users: mobile masterlist

Pairing: Zig x MC(Samantha Davis)

Faceclaim: Santiago Segura as Zig Ortega, Shay Mitchell as Samantha Davis, Cheddar as their puppy and Charlie as their cat

Book: The Senior

Word Count: ~ 1,800

Rating:  M for language

Prompt:  

They talked about traveling, made big plans while tangled in bed and even wrote an itinerary together but an opportunity presents itself and Zig finds himself with a decision to make. 

Samantha’s life has been a mess the last few weeks, her anxiety always getting the best of her, the thesis slowly becoming something so stressing to even explain, her parents spliting up, Zig’s sudden interest in traveling to Japan and her own mind playing tricks with her. So maybe that’s not a very good time for him to tell her? Or is the hard truth always the best option?

Author’s Note:

HI GUYS!!!

BTW I KNOW I’M LATE BUT I HAD REASONS(MY THESIS)

How are you? SOOOOO, this is a new series where the whole Japan thing is trated in a very different way but don’t worry, the drama is still here! I don’t have much to say about it because I honestly don’t know how many chapters and stuff but anyway..I can only say:

ANGST ALERT!

I don’t know exactly who to tag so please tell me if you want in or out of this taglist, and I hope everybody enjoys it!!!! As always, forgive my mistakes since english is not my mother language

@zigortega4life, @lizeboredom , @debramcg1106, @drakewalkerstan, @the-everlasting-dream, @christopher-powell, @pilitella, @easyobsession, @countrymusicandncis-blog, @tacohead13, @maxwellsgang, @ziggypop, @agent-bossypants, @angstymarshmallow

Disclaimer: The characters don’t belong to me,  I just borrow them from Pixelberry! 

Wine and Insomnia

Zig's been working since the early morning, his white shirt painted with a bunch of coffee stains showing the distraction overwhelming his senses, reminding him of when she asked him why the choice of such a bold color in a place where you're bound to get dirty. He remembers the dilated pupils of Samantha with his answer and a smirk, hoping to see her in this happy and light state soon enough. But the news he has to tell her might have the opposite effect, making her sink even more in the anxiety she’s currently fighting.

After his shift ended and the last stubborn client walked away at 1:34 in the morning, he said goodbye with a wave to the poor manager who was still closing some tabs and rushed out of the coffee shop. The streets were not completely empty, to his surprise, many students passed across the campus, heading to what seems to be parties or late night bars. It's a comforting presence, even if most of them are already drunk morons, it reminds him of how funny Sam gets when she’s drunk and all the stories they share in this very campus.

Meanwhile

Samantha typed fastly on her computer, the words already blurring together as the night extends for hours and hours. There's a big sigh coming from her as soon as her relentless fingers stop working, reading the nonsense crap she just wrote.

She's been feeling like that for a while, the inspiration coming fast in the middle of the night and escaping through her fingers before she can type anything useful. Samantha believes this might have something to do with everything that's been happening in her life lately, but Cheddar stops her from thinking any further in the subject by sitting next to her in the couch. He rests his paws on her exposed lap, calling out for attention as his puppy eyes shine over the almost dark room.

It's impossible for her not to scratch behind his ears and say in the most ridiculously dorky voice:

“You're the cutest dog in the whole world, did you know that? Who's the cutest dog in the world??”

He makes a confused expression by raising his ears and Samantha chuckles while scratching his jaw affectionately.

“Yes, you are!!! Cheddar is the cutest dog eveer!”

She feels better just with his presence, as if the emptiness he left in the apartament disappears for a moment. However the white document open in her computer brings her back to the task at hand, making her head pound heavily again.

Cheddar seems to notice the weight on her, laying his head lazily over his paws quietly as if not to disturb her. Samantha writes a full paragraph this time, full of grammar mistakes and gibberish but still feels better than nothing, that is until her eyes shift to the opening door and then nothing else seems that important anymore

...

The apartment is quiet and from the street he saw the living room fairy lights were on, which could mean that she left those on because she thought he was coming home soon or that she's still awake. Zig knows it's more likely the second option, with her insomnia crisis getting worse every week into the semester, but he still wishes badly that it'll be the first option.

When he opens the door his eyes find hers right away, the amber gaze softening under his chocolate one and then a sharp pain cuts through him as he thinks about not having her to come home to. He uses a smile to hide it and closes the door behind him with his foot, holding the bags with chinese food against with one hand and the key with the other.

“Hey babe.”

Samantha grins, watching him drop his bag near the door and realizes how just his presence already lifts a weight from her body. Zig goes straight to the kitchen, his stomach growling loudly to indicate how hungry he actually is, but he also admits to himself that he’s not ready to tell her yet, and being around her means having to say it.

She puts the notebook aside and gets up, Cheddar happily following her to the kitchen, sniffing and wiggling his tale to Zig.

“Hi.”

As expected he smiles at the dog, bending down to pet him and even allowing some cheek licks as his hand travels around the furry ears. Sam enjoys his distraction to step closer and examine what he brought, her mouth watering at the sight of the spring rolls but before she can pick anything Zig hugs her from behind. His scent invading her senses as he kisses the spot under her ear, and then her neck, finally planting a soft kiss on her shoulder.

“Wow. Miss me that much?”

Zig smirks and twists her around, making her face him while his hands caress her small back.

“Spending the day away from you is basically torture Sam, you should know that already.”

He brings their faces closer and Samantha closes her eyes, waiting for one of his ‘I missed you kisses’, the ones that are full of necessity and passion but that usually end with a bunch of other sweet caring pecks over her swollen lips. She gets her heart racing just with the memory of how he kisses her, even after all this time, he’s still shakes her core with any love demonstration. But the kiss doesn’t come and she snaps her eyes open, finding a longing expression in Zig’s face that quickly dissolves into a cocky smile.

“Are you waiting for something Samantha?”

He lets his lips touch just the corner of her mouth, his nose brushing against her when he breathes slowly over her yearning mouth.

“Teasing much, Ortega?”

Then he closes the inch distance between them with a kiss, capturing her lips in a hungry movement that she welcomes by parting her lips to give him more access to her mouth. They explore each others tongues, Samantha’s fingers play with his hair and Zig pulls her even closer by the grip of his hands on her waist. The kiss ends with both of them short of breath, lips swollen by the hot and roughness of the act and cheeks lightly flushed pink.

He pecks her cheek before turning back to the food behind her, leaving Samantha to wonder what’s wrong. After all this time together Sam knows what his kisses mean and it scares her because it sounded more like a ‘I’m sorry’ kiss than a ‘I’ve missed you’, mainly because he’s avoiding her gaze strongly. She’s been feeling weird for a long time so she thinks it’s just her normal paranoid-self, shrugging the dark thoughts and moving to get a a wine and two glasses.

“Why did you stay so late?”

Zig gives her a thankful smile when she pours red wine in a glass and hands it to him. She helps him take the food to the coffee table in the living room, sitting comfortably at his side and waiting for the response.

“There was still some customers there and as much as I wanted, I couldn’t just tell them to get the hell out.”

She chuckles and takes another sip of her wine, using her hand to caress his nap in an attempt to make him fully relax since she can see the tension present in his shoulders.

“You could’ve called me, I don’t have any problem telling people to get out so that I can have my man home earlier.”

Zig laughs and pets Cheddar’s head, who’s sitting between him and Sam. Soon Charlie joins them, getting out of her well deserved nap on their bed, she walks stretching and comes to rest on his lap.

“I guess I’m not the only one who missed you.”

It doesn’t take longer than 3 seconds for Charlie to start purring, brushing her head against his hand in search for more love. Sam smiles with the vision of their pets giving Zig all the love she knows he deserves, it warms her heart to know that even when everything is falling apart, their home is always standing strong.

He takes another sip of the wine and it’s the perfect combo with the food, perfect with this moment, with the perfect woman sitting next to him and staring at him with such longing.

“I missed all of you, especially you Sam, as always. I usually would go for a beer, so how did you know that I today what I wanted was wine?”

“Because I know you babe.”

She answers fast, the words so real that triggers something inside him, something that makes him lower his gaze to Cheddar or the couch beneath him. ‘She knows me better than anyone’ and he can’t look at her without blurting the words out loud, words that might change everything.

He drinks more of his wine to gain courage and tell her the news, all the time avoiding her gaze, that’s when he sees the notebook laying beside her and asks:

“Were you working on something before I came or just waiting for me?”

She sighs, the pressure of the blank document beside her gets back and even though she’s not even looking at it, it already consumes her thoughts again. It’s her time to drink more wine in order to keep from spiraling.

“Yeah, working on my thesis.”

The words are rispid and she half-smiles, trying to hide the desperation surging on her from thinking about that damn thesis. He knows how much it’s consuming her and his way of making it better is by sliding his hand over her shoulders, scooping closer to her and giving her a long forehead kiss.

“Insomnia again?”

She simply nods as he puts both of their empty glasses on the table, turning his full attention to the woman in front of him.

“I wish I could’ve been here earlier to take care of you.”

“You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

Samantha lays her head in his shoulder, closing her eyes and breathes deeply as relief fills her chest. Zig fiddles with her hair, pressing his lips to the top of her head, she snuggles her head into his body until her own lips are touching his neck in a sweet care.

“And I’ll always be here.”

His words are strong and full of meaning, yet he’s not that sure it’s true anymore.

[thisgirlhastales]

after that last anon you answered, i'm now curious about how you pace your stories! i'm usually a little too excited for all the things i want to happen, so i do a lot of skipping ahead and getting to the meat for a fast-paced story. but!! your space cowboy stories are SO GOOD and i know they wouldn't be the same with my kind of pacing, so yeah. i'm curious ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Hi there, honey! :D *hugs*

Okay, this was another question I had to think about for a long time … I often conflate pacing and overall story structure, so fair warning, that is probably gonna happen here.

I’m going to start off with a fairly obvious fact, which is that different stories require different pacing, and that the rules in fanfiction, I find, are a little looser.

This is because we rarely need much exposition in fanfiction, since we’re assuming our readers already know these characters and these settings, so we don’t have to worry too much about explanations or descriptions. That being said, there is always some world-building (particularly in AUs), and that can be pretty challenging to insert without disrupting the … narrative flow, I guess?

There’s a sort of … ebb and flow, overall, to a story. There are quiet times and loud times. There’s talking and then there’s action. Now, the other reason why I say fanfiction is different is because I am perfectly happy reading a story that is literally just characters being domestic, or having emotional conversations (communication, I love it so much) or … every other fun trope in fandom.

I think the way I’ve always approached pacing is to fret about it in the planning stage. Once I start writing, I’m very character-focused, so my main concern is keeping everybody as in-character and “realistic” as possible, since I usually already have an outline with all the plot/emotional beats in place (written or up in my head). But pacing does come up at times even when I have most of the story planned, and I think the biggest indicator of a pacing issue is when you get stuck while writing.

Getting stuck isn’t always about that narrative flow — there are hundreds of reasons why I get writer’s block — but I have found that sometimes it’s because I’m writing something that’s disrupting the flow. Sometimes it’s a dialogue scene that runs too long, and characters are saying/explaining things that I could just show or summarize in a descriptive paragraph. Sometimes it’s a scene that’s totally redundant, period, and I scrap it entirely. 

In other words, skipping ahead and getting to the meat is totally valid on occasion ;D 

As for the space cowboys … *throws hands in the air* … Here’s a look as to how that mess got organized into a semi-coherent flow of words — massive, likely incoherent ramble under the cut!

First off: a one-story example — The Six-Gun Sound.

That story has the most basic pacing ever. Action scene at the start, exposition/dialogue scene right after that sets up the main plot/motive for the characters, followed by a steady build that goes right into that heist. The heist then slowly builds until BAM. Everything goes wrong, there are literal explosions, and then a climax of both the main plot-line and the emotional plot-line. (There is pacing set for both of those when I plan, usually. The plot informs the emotional beats and vice versa, depending on which is more important at any given time.)

In shorter words: action, calm, build-up to more action, big action, calm, and then the resolution. That kind of “ebb and flow” is basically how most stories work, I believe. If you have that going on in your tales, then I think you’re golden :D

I totally break those rules in many of my other tales, but, yeah. There it is ;)

Now, secondly: the entire Trouble’s Making Everything All Right series.

That is just … well, a giant mess, but it’s one that I find works for me? I might be confusing pacing with other parts of narrative structure, but overall, there’s a certain ebb and flow that leads to the first huge climax (which I believe is Short Change Heroes). Um, I’m going to try and explain and hope that it helps you?

Trouble Coming is essentially my expositional story (though I initially had no idea how long this series would go). If, for example, in your own writing you feel like “skipping” all that establishing information, well, I’m gonna be horrible and give you that old cliché — show and don’t tell (much).

I still had to explain some stuff in that story, but having no Team Voltron, having Lance and Keith sitting around that poker table, cheating at cards (Keith), and flirting as a distraction (Lance), while being tough as nails, pretty much establishes that something not good has happened. Especially as Keith worries about making ends meet.

Following that, the attack afterwards, which they treat as business as usual, barely blinking at the deaths they cause … Again, I don’t think I needed to tell you guys that they had been through some bad stuff. And they were continuing to go through some bad stuff. I don’t actually explain much until more than halfway through the story, when they’re back at the inn and there’s a moment of calm. (Again, I’m not great at pacing, but I tried to put a bit of ebb and flow in this series as a whole.) (Action at the beginning, sort of, and then calm.)

Six Gun Sound is pretty much all action, and it retroactively explains partially how Lance and Keith came to be the way they are (and how they got together ;D), and since you’ve already seen how jaded and broken they are in Trouble Coming, I like to think it makes for a sharper, harsher contrast to see them more … good just as they cross that line into becoming The Two McClains. (Lots of action/emotional conflict.)

Following that action-filled, emotional story, we’ve got Broken Bone World, which jumps forward to the more jaded Lance and Keith, but this time, we get to see them relax and perfectly in love with each other — and generally more settled in their new mercenary existence. (More calm.)

And then, Shuffling Madness, back in the past, is lots of action, lots of suffering — I hoped that seeing them as Paladins after three stories as space cowboys would be quite impactful in hindsight? Basically, seeing them being so optimistic about their chances makes you wince on their behalf because you, as the reader, already know how they end up. (Plenty of action/emotional turmoil.)

This is the point where the series is actually building towards the main climax. I had hinted at Keegin Dras going all the way back to the first story. But Paradise City is where the tension, um, kicks up, I guess (some of y’all may remember that cliffhanger? Er, sorry?) (Build-up to lots of action with a sudden stop and cliffhanger.)

I really like contrast, so this is my own personal opinion/writing style, but, um, yeah, there you go.

Edit: Damn, I totally forgot to mention Heaven Above You, which was probably one of my favourites to write — it prolongs the tension between Paradise City and Short Change Heroes, but also, while it isn’t too heavy on the action, I think of it is as still tension building because it shows that defining moment when Lance chose to take a life that wasn’t a direct threat to him. It’s an almost purely expositional story, but it sets up the emotional conflict of Short Change Heroes, while Paradise City sets up the main plot conflict?(Bit of action, mostly calm, but lots of emotional turmoil.)

Short Change Heroes is a damn disaster, but it’s a disaster I kinda really loved writing. There are just so many conversations. It really shouldn’t have had that many dialogue scenes. Holy crap, that war council is a story in and of itself, and I am definitely not Tolkien, holy crap, no. 

But, um, here’s where I contradict myself and say — I didn’t care about pacing, I just wanted to get these people (Team Voltron + The Two McClains) actually talking because communication rocks, and they absolutely would’ve wanted to talk a ton after a year apart. 

I did try and chop up some of the dialogue/exposition with a few action-type scenes (the interrogation scene, then that gang ambush, and that brief attack during the war council), but those scenes were also key to the plot-line and the emotional stuff. I was focused on pacing when I chose where to place those scenes, so that things would feel balanced and move forward smoothly. 

So, if in your own writing, you feel like you want to skip ahead, but you also feel like whatever information you need to impart (or interaction these characters need to have) is important to the plot/pacing (e.g. you need a quiet moment before battle or you need to show off an action scene before you can get to that juicy emotional resolution), find a way to make it fun for you to tell! I am a sucker for gritty honesty or sappy confessions or no-holds-barred arguing, so that’s how I handle some exposition. I love creating angsty situations instead of just explaining that someone’s had a bad time. 

Basically, in summation: I try to keep action and moments of stillness somewhat balanced. 

— A huge burst of action demands a longer moment of quiet/reflection, or a longer emotional conversation and/or resolution afterwards. 

— A massive emotional fight/discussion demands that the characters either have time apart or some kind of quiet/temporary peace after (even if the fight isn’t resolved right away or the discussion hasn’t unloaded everything in their heads). 

This is my preferred rhythm to story-telling, both on small (one story) or large (series) scales. This way a story doesn’t feel too stilted, or overly long (too many quiet moments?), or like it isn’t letting up/allowing the reader to settle (too many action moments?) — an even rhythm/flow carries the reader along easily (hopefully). 

I break these rules of mine often, but this is a general rant ;D

I really, really hope this has helped you, that this hasn’t bored you to death, and that I haven’t been totally nonsensical. I am honestly not even sure I answered this question at this point — it kinda just turned into a freakishly long ramble. *sweats* Sorry! 

You are very kind to ask, and I am so grateful to you! Best of luck with the writing, dear! *all the hugs*

[devilishdewitt]

Ladies of Burlesque, June 2019

Short’n’Sweet, off we go!

First things first, the most important part of any review I shall ever write:

~The Eternal Disclaimer~

It is hereby declared that this little nook of the world wide web shall be devoted to the praise & critique of the art of burlesque, specifically in Russia.

Let it also be known that I am first and foremost a benevolent force, and every single criticism is documented solely for the purpose of evolution, growth and inspiration, darling.

Never forget - it is fantastic that the burlesque scene in Russia has grown so much in the last few years. Brava, ladies! As a fact and a statement, it is absolutely fabulous.

However, I volunteer to wear the heavy crown of expertise, having seen many a show in many a place, and having a keen eye for detail and a heart hungry for that wow factor. I always come with an open heart, am quite easily entertained, and know how hard the craft is - I can overlook many a fault when there’s stage presence, charisma and that fire of passion. Oh, and self-irony.

All is sickly without self-irony.

Now, onwards! To fabulousness!

Ah, Michel! Beautiful as you approach it, delightful as you step in, courteous waiters, excellent food!

The stage seemed a tad bit too small and a little bit too close to the audience (to my liking), and seemed quite stifling, really. However, certainly not the worst option in Moscow!

Our gorgeous swan-queen host, Anja Pavlova was on top form both nights. Her hosting excelled  - the marriage of her Moscow State University philosophy faculty, English teacher experience (hello, fantasies), European lady class and Russian intelligentsia wit provide endless charm, wittiness and grace. Brava!

The chorus line was better. The routine was polished, they had fun - and so they were fun to watch. But still, ladies! Waists! Synch! It’s not that hard! A little shape goes a long way!

You, dearest darlings, already know how much I adore Ladies of Burlesque.

However,  h o w e v e r, there is just one thing I can’t for the life of me understand.

The fascination with Marie Weinberg.

Is she sweet? Undoubtedly.

Is she talented? Sure.

Is she good in this show? No.

Her tone of voice is just not suited to the mood, the vibe, the occasion.

Or she simply doesn’t make it work.

She seems dead scared every time she walks on stage, she doesn’t own the audience, she doesn’t seem to enjoy herself - and the audience feels it!

Being harsh is never my intention, and I have a healthy amount of self-doubt (believe it or not, darling reader!), so I decided to ask a certain number of fellow spectators. An opinion in unison…bland.

She doesn’t feel the energy of the songs she’s singing, either. She seems to simply enjoy the sound of her own voice.

And don’t even get my started on the crumpled, non-ironed dress (girl! Get a steamer!!) and the ill-fitting gloves. Oh, Whineberg…

Blanche de Moscou. Excellent! She completely transforms on stage. The sparkle, the charm, the stories, the moves - it’s all there! This time she entertained us with her “Pink 60’s” and “Kinky” acts. Both were great, though the Kinky one still isn’t Kinky - and even inserting a fox-tail butt-plug into her belle-chose (instead of it’s derrière-destiny) at the Kinky Party didn’t help the cause.

Elisha Fox - excellent as always. Unfortunate that the video projector got in the way of his dance flow (a very low ceiling for a tall performer (especially in those heels!)). 

However, his magic is inextinguishable.

Especially the “My Little Pony” addition in the end of the “Magic Lamp” number…self-irony at it’s best!

I know what you’re thinking, darling. It seems as if I write about Elisha is every review. That’s because...it is the truth! He is indeed one of the few (ahem, two) performers who are invited to almost every event. All the cliques, groups and cults want a slice of his boylesque extravaganza. Of course it’s due to the fact that he’s really, really good - but also, he’s one of a kind, and being a boylesque performer in Russia is an act of bold, glittery rebellion.

However, Elisha does get elephantine bonus points for being, indeed, the first and only of his kind in Russia. So if I were to judge our luminary on an international scale, he wouldn’t shine quite as bright, and here’s why.

The marvel lends too much focus to the technique. Burlesque is about the magic of connection - that is what the tease does, creates electricity between the performer and the audience. The tease, the joy, the desire to inspire, the will to share the story...Elisha has everything. Now he has to let it go and enjoy his time on stage. The dancing is perfect, but it doesn’t have to be. Make eye contact! Make a mistake! Breathe! Allow yourself to be alive on that stage. Because the audience wants to be alive with you.

If I could make one wish on the lamp of our dazzling genie...it would be that Tanya, aka @konfetki​, would look the part. The producer of such a dazzling event deserves to look as brilliant as the show. Oh, did I say deserves? I meant should. This is in no way an attack on anyone’s freedom of expression, but there are fairly simple style rules that would amp up the full experience. It’s a question of atmosphere, of vibe, of team spirit! When the team spirit is brilliance, you dress accordingly, darling!

It’s a damn shame that Victoria Semmybird wasn’t able to come. Tales of her Dumbo act travel far and wide, and St Petersburg burlesque quite often offers a refreshing quirkiness. Moscow takes itself so seriously...perhaps we shall see a flourish of comedic acts sooner rather than later!

Tamasina Beansun was alright. Her Vaping Moon act was syrupy, sensual and full of deeply-set inner emotional drama, and her Butterfly act was syrupy... sensual...and...well, you get me.

She did expertly get rid of a naughty button - rip it off and throw it away! That’s the temperament that could make her future acts truly shine.

Her Siberian Prime inseparable, Katerina Sahara, was her usual fabulous self. Starting with her Heartbroken act, that suits any occasion with its elegant languid flow & elements of enticing percussion. But it was her second act that really made the room explode with excitement. Take a Russian jazz-pop classic, add a feisty tropical/Cuban costume, add rum, twerking and brilliant charm and you got yourself a treasure.

Masha Arzamasova, a journalist, sex blogger and all-round brilliant lady did a stand up act on night 2 - and it was excellent. Sassy, confident, hilarious - the room was buzzing long after she sat back at her table. Refreshing!

I have a feeling that the Ladies might be lending this modest little writing endeavour a pinch of their attention, as Elena the Stage Kitten had her moment to shine and it was delightful! You go, Lena!

Wish I could say the same about Jeva Noir.

I must say, it takes talent to take one of the most adored and vivid female comic book characters - POISON IVY!!, choose the deliciously malicious Uma Thurman version, make some fern fans…and make it so bland.

Girl.

Posture.

That corset does NOT fit. It’s supposed to SYNCH YOU IN.

The wig is tragic. I’m sorry, but it’s just a fact.

Actually, no. I am not sorry. The reason why I’m making these comments is because I want the quality of Russian burlesque to rise and conquer the world. Someone’s gotta tell the truth!

The choreography is awkward and doesn’t do anything. It’s just moving for the sake of moving.

You can’t take one of the most ironically sexy songs in the history of mankind and NOT make fun of it or at least ENJOY it.

Apparently there is such a thing as too much glitter  ( g  a  s  p )

Also, sticky jewels on one’s forehead stopped working since every single festival-going chick started sticking them everywhere.

Caught a glimpse of Eva out of costume - my God, how gorgeous she is! Her elegant bob haircut suits her flawlessly, she carries herself with poise…so what happens when she’s in character?

A perplexing addition to the pantheon of LoB elegance.

I have the antidote to the sadness of this last paragraph, darling reader - our paramount lady, Anja. The two acts she brought to us this time were “A Lady Loves” (the big fan one) and “You’re My Thrill” (the moon act), dedicated to her lucky Persian prince husband.  

Well, let me tell you, she was our thrill. 

The lady loves and oh, the lady’s loved!

What really makes her stand out is the grace, the raw emotion, the adoration of the music (we can feel it in her bones), and just how much she loves this show and burlesque.

Another thing I must mention is the costume changes. God, I love a good costume change, and Pavlova did indeed bring. it. on.

From her breathtaking golden iris Mucha Bond-girl fantasy to a vivacious green glitter tassel Christmas tree fantasy (sewn in one night with no sewing machine!), it was endlessly entertaining and captivating - much like the lady herself! Also, the new wig length worked superbly well. I daresay that a longer style suited her much better than her usual curly bobs.

“Burlesque is unapologetic”, she manifests towards the end - and god damn, the gal is right! Unapologetic in its confidence, playfulness, storytelling and celebration of being alive in those bizarre, beautiful bodies of ours!

Hoorah, ladies and gentlemen! (of burlesque and beyond)

PS

The Ladies of Burlesque Halloween show will take place on the 1st of November at the same venue, Cafe Michel.

[deborahdeshoftim5779]

The Marvel of Trelsi (Part XIII)

Man, I’m beat at the end of THIS week. So much stuff to do, and so little of it based on writing. A rich husband would be much appreciated. 

Anyway, let’s return to Trelsi. In the last instalment, I did an analysis of three Kelsi Nielsen songs in order to demonstrate the kind of person that would interest Kelsi romantically in an ideal situation. I alluded to the fact that Kelsi’s expectations are idealistic, because the reality of her situation doesn’t bear much resemblance to those poetic lyrics and catchy melodies. Like I’ve said, I’m adding questions as they occur to me; I’m not just interested in examining Trelsi, but understanding Troy Bolton and Kelsi Nielsen as people, and that means discussing their interactions with others. My next question is as follows:

Question-- What can we learn about Kelsi Nielsen from her canonical relationships?

Disclaimer: No “Ryelsi” will be discussed.

This is fascinating to me. First of all, let’s get to the bottom of Kelsi’s canonical relationship with Jason Cross and the implications thereof. 

I’ve just been rewatching some of HSM I in Google Play, just to see whether there is any avenue for Jason Cross to have known about Kelsi prior to meeting her in the gym. I’ve scrolled as slowly as I can, but was unable to find such a place. It might have made sense for Jason to notice her during the performance of “Breaking Free”, but that would be impossible, given that Kelsi’s back was to the audience, and she only seemed interested in either the music or in Troy blossoming onstage. I’ve rewatched the scene where Jason formally and silently introduces himself, and it looks, for all intents and purposes, to be a spur on the moment decision to help her sink a shot. I like this scene. Even before shipping Trelsi, I considered it sweet, even though heavily in line with every other character being paired off for pairing’s sake. Even at this stage, Kelsi is still so often overlooked in favour of other girls (the gym is full of cheerleaders) that the decision to get to know her better often comes on a whim. I still can’t decide whether Troy intended to make friends with Kelsi earlier in HSM I, but if he only did so after she tripped over, then that would be a mirror to how Jason is later introduced to Kelsi. And once again, Kelsi’s surprise is a sign of how she is not yet used to being noticed by others, let alone boys (and a jock like Jason!). However, since being introduced to Troy, she has grown in confidence and thus she most notably does not react with the dumbfounded astonishment of before. In fact, her smile is more confident as Jason helps her shoot a hoop, which she appears to enjoy. 

Contrary to what the movie wishes for us to believe, I do not think that Jason and Kelsi instantly hit it off after this encounter. I am making assumptions here, but given what we know of Kelsi’s serious attitude towards love and relationships, I cannot see her deciding to put her trust in Jason before they had spent more time together. Fortunately, they had the rest of the school year to do so, and by the summer (HSM II), they are established as an item. By the beginning of HSM III, however, we are to infer that they have broken up and this raises a number of important questions and issues. First of all, what made Jason choose Kelsi out of all the other girls he could have easily had? Remember that Jason is a jock, and therefore from the Supreme Class, according to the Philosophy of Danforth. I assume that he saw something in her that other people didn’t, or maybe he was intrigued by her shyly and awkwardly clutching a basketball, and decided to help her out. I don’t pretend to know the answers here, because we’re just not given that information. What does seem apparent is that Kelsi was still shy around boys-- notice her somewhat hunched shoulders when the basketball team cheered around her. Of course, we didn’t see that kind of shyness around the boys of the Drama Club, so I’m assuming that this was caused by 1)- the social status of the basketballers, 2)- possibly their physical stature, 3)- the shyness possibly being provoked when close to people she was attracted to. Either way, it appears that Jason knows what to do in order to lower Kelsi’s walls. She doesn’t seem to mind as he tosses her hat side and allows her hair to flow free, as is the clichéd method in romantic comedies. From around HSM III, Kelsi wears fewer hats (and even then, only as an accessory, rather than to hide her face) and wears her hair longer, perhaps a testament to Jason’s influence on her. What’s interesting about this is that Jason is pretty awkward himself, so perhaps he saw a kindred spirit and decided to work up the courage to introduce himself. 

Kelsi and Jason scenes are so tiny as to be almost invisible, but we can get some idea of what their relationship might have been like. I think the key thing to note is an easy affection between the two of them. I would not describe either of them as being in love, but just having the typical teenage feelings associated with one’s first relationship. I am almost certain that this is Kelsi’s first relationship; there is no way you can be that shy and have a boyfriend prior), and I think the same might be true for Jason, but not necessarily. Why is this significant? Because it’s nothing like what Kelsi either really expects or wants in a relationship. I have mentioned the danger of lofty expectations here and here, stating that this might lead to dissatisfaction on Kelsi’s part when she inevitably did not receive what she wanted. However, given this contrast, I do not think that Kelsi was intending to “settle” for Jason at all; it takes a lot for her to break down her walls, and I think that she would only invest in a relationship that she considered worthwhile. Like I’ve said in my song analysis, Kelsi does not half-step when it comes to relationships. Unlike Sharpay, she doesn’t view boys as sport, and unlike Gabriella, she does not take the business of being in a relationship for granted. Once inside the relationship, Kelsi would have committed completely. 

What does Kelsi see in Jason? Well, he seems kind, often fumbles and bumbles around, but in a well-meaning way. He seems thoughtful and doesn’t need her to impress him with sports skill before he notices her. Without even asking, he helps her sink a shot through the hoops and smiles at her as though this was her victory. 

So why, by the beginning of HSM III have they not only broken up, but Jason has jumped ship immediately to the popular head cheerleader Martha? Well, the seeds were sown during HSM II where, on at least two or three occasions, you can see Jason either hugging or putting his arm around Martha. In fact, after the kids have finished dancing outside of East High to mark the summer, Jason turns and hugs Martha first before Kelsi. Later on, he has his arm around Martha as he comes into the practice room to sing “You Are The Music In Me”. Because the film narrative pays little attention to Kelsi when she isn’t either composing music or with Troy and Gabriella, we don’t know anything about these little scenes beyond their mere existence, and thus we know very little about Kelsi’s reaction. Fortunately for you guys, we can rely on my musings in Google Docs to fill in the gaps. There are two ways that Kelsi could have reacted to this: either by confrontation or in silence. I base the confrontation theory on her ability to confront people when sufficiently agitated, like during HSM I, when she angrily told Troy why the callbacks had been rescheduled, and when she stood up to Sharpay before said callbacks. I base the silence theory on how Kelsi hides more of herself than she shows to other people (except perhaps Troy) and how, given that she is in her first relationship, she is most probably besieged by doubts on how she should behave. 

Out of the two theories, I think the silence theory is more likely, because the signs that Jason is becoming more attached to Martha are subtle. In which case, Kelsi would most probably be lingering and doubting whether she was simply imagining things, or whether she had reason to be worried. Her low self-esteem, which she has had most probably since childhood, would flare UP again. In my notes for my mega Trelsi fic, I speculated that Kelsi might be the kind of girl to compare herself negatively to other girls, particularly when one is competing with her over the same guy. She is nothing like Gabriella, who, confident in her own looks, would stare down the rival and then punish the guy if he dared look too interested in someone else.

In fact, Kelsi can’t have confronted him, because later on in the movie, you can see Jason leaning at the breakfast table next to Kelsi (shortly before the infamous Silent Treatment scene), which wouldn’t have happened were things frosty between them. At the end of the movie, during the quieter version of “You Are The Music In Me”, she seems happy hugging him and running around the hills. This appears genuine to me (I was rewatching it before writing this paragraph). So this may suggest that Kelsi was more likely playing it silent, perhaps believing that either Jason would not take Martha seriously (if so, a massive miscalculation on her part), and/or that she could/should focus on the positives in her relationship. It’s not like Jason was completely cold and unfeeling towards her; they obviously shared happy moments together. Clearly, she had strong feelings for Jason, or else none of this would make sense. Another reason that I don’t see Kelsi being confrontational is that Martha is/was her friend. Not only this, but Kelsi continues being either friendly or at least civil with Martha AFTER she broke up with Jason, even sitting at the same lunch table in HSM III (shortly before Chad asked Taylor to prom). This adds an astonishing twist to the tale. Why does Kelsi continue to maintain some semblance of friendship with someone who 1)- appears quite flirtatious, 2)- shows no canonical interest in Kelsi’s relationship with Jason and 3)- shows no embarrassment about dating her friend’s ex right in front of her? 

I have puzzled about this in my current Trelsi one-shot. Up til now, I don’t yet have a concrete answer. Does Kelsi, once again feeling that other girls are more attractive then her, feel that it’s all for the best, whilst trying to quash her own hurt? Does she politely pretend not to notice? (It does seem that way in some of the scenes; when Jason hugs Martha before her in early HSM II, she simply nudges him and waits for her turn!) Or is Kelsi merely displaying a show of civility, whilst hiding her bitterness? As we know, Kelsi is capable of deeply-rooted bitterness, and of holding grudges against other people. We are shown her grudge against Sharpay (understandable, but later heavily exaggerated), and her former grudge against Ryan, which she overcame. The movie narrative would never have us see any inkling that things weren’t always sugary and nice between the Wildcats, but perhaps Kelsi’s relationship with Martha became increasingly strained. After all, it’s not like Martha ever played it cool with Jason out of respect for her friend’s relationship. No, even by the beginning of the summer, they were on regular hugging terms, if there’s such a thing. The seamless way in which Jason runs straight into Martha’s arms (literally as well as figuratively) by the beginning of HSM III suggests a closeness that has to have been nurtured over time. And that time was when Kelsi and Jason were dating. 

Judging from that scene in HSM III, where the Cool Girls are sharing a table (Taylor, Gabriella, Martha and Kelsi), we can see Martha giggling over something. Taylor and Gabriella are laughing, and Kelsi is smiling, but focused on her manuscripts. Her reactions appear somewhat reserved here. We know that Kelsi and Martha at least were close, because at the beginning of HSM II, she gives Martha a hug (perhaps they were introduced after the Winter Musical?), and later on, she is happily pretending to scratch turntables whilst Martha breaks it down on the kitchen floor. I can’t help noticing that Kelsi and Martha are on opposite sides of the same table in HSM III, although this is not necessarily significant. Personally, I think that her reservation here is thanks to a tireless devotion to her work, but if Kelsi really did feel resentment towards Martha, then her smiling, whilst focusing on her work might be a plausible demonstration of this. That’s a possible headcanon assumption and not necessarily one that I hold.

I suppose the next question is whether Jason cheated on Kelsi with Martha? I think not. The fact that Kelsi continues to maintain communication with Martha and even Jason to some extent seems sufficient proof that that wasn’t the case. Remember that at the beginning of HSM III, Kelsi signed up “almost the entire home room!” (Ms. Darbus) for the next musical, and we can see that Jason objects to this. In other words, she signed him up. Given the “almost” part, I assume some members were left out, therefore Kelsi had every opportunity to leave out Jason were she angry with him. Kelsi signed up the people she could most easily persuade to participate. Later on, she begs everyone that she presumptuously signed up to participate, and again, this includes Jason. These are not the actions of someone wishing to put as much distance between her and her ex-boyfriend. It’s worth noting that Jason doesn’t speak to her with any reluctance or embarrassment, which is both astounding, given him jumping straight to Martha, but also indicative perhaps of a (somewhat) amicable breakup. And by amicable, I mean they both decided to part ways, not that Kelsi was patting him on the back for being chummy with her friend whilst they were dating! So, what I think what happened was that Kelsi couldn’t deal with Jason’s emotional infidelity any longer, and either she broke up with him to maintain the upper hand, or he broke up with her when he could no longer conceal those feelings. 

The implications and consequences of this breakup are not pretty. I am going to make a lot of assumptions here to fill in the gaps, but it strikes me that Kelsi would feel inadequate if her boyfriend (a jock, no less) left her for a confident and bubbly cheerleader. Bear in mind that not long after splitting up with Kelsi for Martha, Jason goes to the trouble of getting a T-shirt painted with a proposition for Martha. You can see this T-Shirt shortly before “Night to Remember”. Jason never did such a thing for Kelsi. Furthermore, he isn’t at all embarrassed to be wearing this in front of Kelsi whilst he performs HER song for the Spring Musical! Would this make Kelsi feel as though Jason was never as invested in their relationship as she was? In my last post, I alluded to a possible period of unhappiness for Kelsi prior to writing “I Just Wanna Be With You”: “You know how life can be/It changes overnight/Sunny then raining/But it’s alright.” Could the “rainy” period in Kelsi’s life be an allusion to Jason? Again, I do not present this as canonical fact, but it is definitely plausible. And I would go even further than that; could Kelsi’s appearance during “Night to Remember”, in which the guys say “Who’s that Girl?” be her response to Jason and Martha? During this scene, Kelsi appears as the “mystery girl” whom the guys (including, ironically, Jason) has to admire during the song. I don’t think this was Kelsi’s idea, but perhaps Ryan’s. He is the choreographer, and Kelsi was previously awkward and clumsy in HSM I, didn’t appear to be very fond of water in HSM II. But presenting herself as confident and carrying off the ballet steps without a hitch would be a great way for Kelsi to re-assert her confidence. We then see her invest her energy into writing one hell of a love song “I Just Wanna Be With You”, which I discussed in the last post. 

All in all, the trajectory of Kelsi’s relationship with Jason is quite sad-- for Kelsi. She most probably had such high hopes, and definitely put more into her relationship than Jason did. Perhaps she felt somewhat betrayed. However, I don’t think that even this quashes her sense of optimism, her hope for a better future. If there’s one reason why Kelsi is such a compelling story hero, it’s her ability to try, try again. I think that there would be a down period, but perhaps by the time it came to preparing the third musical, she threw herself into her composition work in order to keep the pain at bay. Her music is not only her sole passion, but also her escape from real life. Hence why she can be present in the moment and yet lost in pages of notes. 

This brings me onto my next question:

Question-- Did Kelsi have a crush on Troy? As a supporter of Trelsi, should this not be part of the default headcanon?

When I first watched the High School Musical series (a couple of years ago), it never crossed my mind that Kelsi could have had a crush on Troy. Only when I became more interested in the movies at the end of last year did I start seeing this proposed by a couple of fans. Again, I was sceptical, because at that point, I was more interested in the friendship, until that moment when I watched the Trelsi introductory scene and something clicked in my head. This could be a couple. But even THEN I wasn’t thinking about the potential of Kelsi’s astonishment being based on a crush, and I didn’t begin shipping Trelsi for real until HSM III. I think I gradually began accepting this interpretation simply by virtue of having read several meta’s where the author said so. Fast forward to now, when I ship Trelsi romantic and platonic fashion, and I’m actually ambivalent towards this theory. I will explain why, and how this relates to Kelsi and Jason as follows. 

Now the Crush Theory appears to take hold from the moment where Kelsi is introduced to Troy, and we see her astonishment that the King of East High is actually speaking with her. Along with other evidence, mostly centred around Kelsi’s stronger affection and attachment to Troy than to Gabriella, the belief is that this proves she had more than platonic feelings towards him. I may have oversimplified this somewhat, but I think that you get the gist. Now don’t get me wrong; the Crush Theory does serve one particular angle of the Trelsi ship that I will discuss in future instalments-- that of unrequited love. I’ve read some great Trelsi fics with this angle, and it starts from Kelsi having this secret crush. And for the purposes of the movie canon, it would be far more interesting for the central narrative, as well as giving Kelsi some depth, because since she shows a great capacity for self-sacrifice, she is unlikely to ever act on such feelings. This would be far more interesting for the viewer than Troy’s trite and unhealthy relationship with Gabriella. 

However, there are several problems with this theory.

Firstly, throughout the movies, Kelsi becomes more comfortable with Troy, something that surely could not happen if she had a persistent crush on him. By the summer, she thinks nothing of holding his hand, and does this again in HSM III. She gives him a hug when he’s feeling down, which suggests a level of familiarity not possible for a shy girl who has this all-encompassing crush on East High’s Primo Boy. I see Kelsi as becoming more open and more mature throughout the movies, not forever repressed by her feelings. Her song lyrics in HSM III are a reflection of this positive change. I struggle to reconcile this with the Crush Theory. 

Secondly, the Crush Theory undermines the importance of Kelsi’s introduction to Troy. There’s far more to that scene than physical attraction; it’s about finding a kindred spirit, acceptance, about Troy building up her confidence and revealing the girl within who always wanted to shine but never could do so. I find the Crush Theory problematic in that it would imply that Kelsi’s feelings of friendship towards Troy were at least partially motivated by attraction. This demeans the friendship to me. This introduction definitely leads to friendship first. A common understanding and chemistry in the sense that they communicate so effectively with little to no words, and are always by each other’s side no matter what. 

Thirdly, the Crush theory is short-lived. Kelsi is one of the first to see that Troy at least, is heavily invested in Gabriella. If Kelsi did have this crush, then she would have had to shelve it pretty fast once she saw that it was completely pointless. Troy Bolton is King of East High and unattainable for 98% of the female population. Kelsi may be an idealist, but her persistence shows that she has a realistic side. I can’t, especially in light of Kelsi’s increasing comfort around Troy, see her continuing to hold a flame for someone who is resolutely unavailable, knowing full well that such feelings are unlikely to be returned. That would put a whole depressing aspect to the Crush. If it happened, perhaps it ended quickly. Furthermore, I have already stated that Kelsi has a strong investment in people: a crush is not a strong investment. It is fleeting, and changes like the wind. Kelsi is deeply emotional and would need to feel as though the object of her affections was as deeply connected to her in return; canonically speaking, Troy is not. So why would she suffer in silence? Given her ability to find another path when one isn’t working for her, I can’t see Kelsi in a constant state of Purgatory here. 

The most important reason why the Crush Theory is lacking is that Kelsi dated Jason for a significant period of time and seemed perfectly happy doing so. I have already explained why it is not in Kelsi’s nature to “settle” for anything. Her interaction with Jason was affectionate, and for the period where he was actually invested in her, he reciprocated that affection. It would be easy to see why Kelsi might have a crush on Troy; he is gorgeous, charming, lovely, smart, dorky, sweet and romantic. Jason on the other hand, is awkward, handsome in a boyish kind of way and definitely not the brightest spark at all. And even though Kelsi looks incredulous when Jason fails to respond to Mr. Fulton’s prepping on how to treat “Miss Evans”, she appears not to take issue with Jason’s penchant for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. Jason doesn’t seem to care much about his style, pairing shirts and t-shirts and baggy jeans. (Not unlike Kelsi’s sense of fashion throughout HSM I and II! :D) His hair is always wild, and he chews gum, has the co-ordination of a toddler learning to walk and is no way near as mature as his composer girlfriend. Still, Kelsi chooses to be with him. If she preferred Troy with his effortless romantic gestures, smooth-talking, intelligent conversation and so on, then she had every opportunity to seek out such a romantic partner. She is often shown in HSM III with some other members of the school band, and we are to assume that she was keeping them in order for the musical. There were plenty of other boys she could have dated. However, she maintained a relationship with Jason despite him not being Greek God material. And Martha’s flirtatiousness with Jason is testament to his own appeal to girls. The length of time that Kelsi dated Jason would be sufficient for her to shelve any such crush feelings, should they have existed. From Kelsi’s song lyrics, she seems to value honesty and genuine commitment in a relationship, thus making it unlikely that she would knowingly date someone with whom she had little to no connection, let alone whilst thinking about someone else. 

So no, I don’t consider it mandatory in the Trelsi ship to believe that Kelsi had a crush on him. Unorthodox? Yes. But hey, I love that. 

That being said, did Kelsi write her songs for Jason? I don’t think so. Their relationship did not strike me as having the quality that she longed for in her songs. Those songs express an ideal state. Will Kelsi attain it? That is entirely for her to decide, and I don’t know whether she feels her songs are truly representative of romance or maybe just part of her escapism. 

In the next instalment, I will discuss the superior potential of Trelsi romance, particularly where it might have worked in place of the canonical narrative. 

TO BE CONTINUED

[elysiumrp]

Congratulations SAWYER! You have been accepted as Triston Fitz. Please go through the checklist and send in your account within 24 hours. If you need more time, make sure you send a message to the main.

Can I just say that your application blew me away? I can’t wait to see your take on Triston played out for us on the dash. You clearly tapped into the emotional conflict that I tried to instill in his character whenever I wrote his bio, and I can’t help but be extremely excited that someone else has noticed the innerworkings and details of Triston and his personality. Your sample paragraph in particular gave me a full fleshing out of the version of Triston that you have identified, and I am in love with the various details that you’ve already added as you’ve branched off from his bio. He’s a conflicted vampire to say the least, and he’s a conflicted vampire in a very conflicted time at that, so Triston’s future is uncertain and up to you to create. I can’t wait to see it. Welcome to Elysium!!

OOC INFO

Name: Sawyer Age: 21 Timezone: PST Preferred Pronouns: He/Him Previous RP Experience: [RFP] Activity Level:  As with any writer my activity will be completely dependent on how involved I get into the group (hopefully as much as possible right?). You can expect daily if not semi-hourly activity from me. I will be on the dash and have never recieved an activity warning in my collective years as a writer. (I don’t apply to groups that I don’t intend to put 100% of my effort into.) Anything Else:  P.S It’s been a while since I have attempted Tumblr based RP so it may take me a little bit longer than usual to set up an account if I am accepted. Only because I will have to refresh on xKit and all that jazz. (I code my own layouts for Roleplayer.me, Tumblr and Aniroleplay so I am definitely well versed in the coding formats for Tumblr.) Just figured I should let you all know that. Hopefully that doesn’t chase anyone off of this app.

IC INFO

Character Name: Triston Fitz Why did you choose this character:

For me to explain why I chose Triston out of the slew of other available open males I will have to tell you a bit about myself. As long as I can remember I have always been fascinated with despair. Yes I know that is a damned awful thing for someone to say, but let me explain; To me despair is the quintessential foundation for absolutely all human interaction. It quite literally defines who we are. Think about it; What has shaped you more as an individual? Your happy moments or the moments where you sink so low in your own despair that you either have to sacrifice a part of yourself to continue or show that you have what it takes to overcome adversity and tribulation. So for mark number one I was helplessly drawn in to Triston’s included details. The fact that to him, protecting those he cares about is more important than even his own life. It would leave me ample room to establish that he would never change this about himself, but that it eats him alive because he also knows he can’t ever go back to the people he cares most about; His family. Triston Fitz truly seemed like the character that could fit my unique quirks. His story spoke to me, as a brother myself I understand completely that ultimate level of protection that is a fundamental part of his personality. At the same time this man who wants to protect and help keep people safe is also aware of his own ravenous hunger. He attacked a man just walking down the street, I can only imagine how deeply that must be ingrained into his psyche. It would be the perfect form of self-betrayal; here you have a man so devoted to protection that he has become a bodyguard of the supernatural locale ruthlessly devouring a man out of sheer unkempt desire. So your question was; Why did I chose this character? That much is simple; the character spoke to me on a level that none others have so far. Which is why I am here, applying to hopefully breathe life to what I perceived as one of the most emotionally complex characters in your roster. I feel that I myself would be a great writer for the role as the “emotionally complex, yet equally stoic” man is sort of my personal favorite role. Several of the characters I have loved the most have been mentally complex characters. * A list of some of my previous characters/roles I have filled. If the admins would like direct links to profiles they can request them and I will happily provide.

—- Nathaniel Schyler: An abusive, controlling uncle/doctor. His fame was employed to mask his dark tendencies. He was very much a “puppet master” type role.

Kurty-Kurt: Obviously this is my nickname for my lovable werewolf with cancer. He was very emotionally unstable and very powerful as a new turned werewolf. This character shared the paternal protective nature that Triston displays to the point that he had been seriously burned in his wolf form while trying to protect his wounded mother figure from a pyro-obsessed witch. This left his wolf hideously disfigured until the next new moon and even carried over to his human form in the form of burn damage to his lungs.

Dominic Rilai: Dominic was one of the first roles I ever took on in the “supernatural” verses. A Celt turned vampire in a religious ceremony that promised to make him the ultimate warrior for his people. The ultimate protector, little did he know he wasn’t the only one of his kind. This role I feel is especially worth noting as Dominic was an vampire from around Triston’s era. (the mid to late 1500’s) His age granted him a healthy amount of power so I had to exercise the restraint of a character that had this power in the past. I know that this often can be one of the main concerns for admins when accepting applications for older more experienced character roles. How did that spiderman line go? “With great power comes great responsibility.”

Deucalion: Yes that’s right. I played none other than the Demon Wolf himself. The best part? People loved the unique way I established detail. Seeing as Deucalion is blind unless in his wolf form (in which he sees in a way similar to echo location it seems) I had to come up with different more textile ways to depict my details. Instead of focusing on what my character may have seen I focused on what he could feel. Even going as far as to clearly depict that I could proficiently write characters with adverse situations/conditions.

Eobard Thawne: The Reverse Flash. This role lasted for nearly 3 and a half years before I retired it as the RPG he was a part of fell apart due to a group of clique writers.

Abbadon: The Lord of The Abyss. A deity for a god-verse RP. Abbadon was the master of secrets and the abyss. He was constantly plotting and establishing connections that could give him advantageous opportunities.

Describe your plan for them:

I plan only to do my absolute best to embody what I felt your depiction of Triston Fitz was and to grow more with the community in hopes of forming connections that spark great writes and drive evolution of not just Triston, but any and everyone who would like to interact with us (in the event I am chosen to be his writer ofc). The most ideal way for things to work out would be that I get accepted, set up the profile and then jump head first into meeting and greeting the rest of the community. I’m a bit of a ‘go-getter’ so you could expect me to be one of the people constantly driving to connect to the other characters and writers. I’d love to eventually depict Triston so well that the admins themselves will be happy they chose me to be his writer. As a writer I am very driven by the story, I want to do anything I can to ensure that Triston does his part to help the story progress and bring the community more and more interesting and compelling interactions with this amazing character. He offers so much potential that I was actually quite surprised he was still listed as open. I want to tap into the despair that I feel lies within Triston’s heart and use it to flesh out even more of his background and story as he and I progress with the group and it’s plots. Truly I am in high hopes that I have finally found a new place to write and share my creative musings from a personal standpoint. Reading through EVERYTHING on your navi leads me to believe that the admins have experienced some of the unfortunate events that I have so they can perhaps offer a more unified and stable community for me to write in and partake of. The fact that their is an anti-clique rule is honestly amazing in my mind. Most groups don’t give a rats ass if their writers only write with literally 4 people in a group of 30+. So again, for the character I plan on putting my best foot forward and engaging with the other writers to help do my part to shape the group and the community we are establishing together as a whole. I’d like to depict that even though Triston’s area of employment may make people assume that he would be a big, daft jarhead bouncer type of man that you can’t judge a book by it’s amazon reviews. I want to open people’s eyes to the inner struggle of a man who lost it all and knows that despite how truly he desires it that he will never be able to get back the one thing that gave his life true meaning; His family. He is such a compelling and driving character, but I also feel he would do his best to depict his image as the opposite. I would love to highlight the contrasts in his personality. Almost as if there were two Tristons; The one that died the night of the attack and the one that lived to never tell the tale. These two beings are at constant war with themselves inside of him; He wants to protect, but needs to destroy (feed). He is a beautiful disaster, a brave warrior and one hell of a brother. At the end of the line that is what I want to do with him.

Describe your character’s feelings and reactions to the initial reveal of the supernatural world:

Initially Triston wasn’t certain what to feel. The veil that had kept most of their lives intact had finally been pulled back. He wasn’t sure whether or not it was the greatest thing ever to happen to his kind or if it was truly the beginning of the end. Man kind was never known for it’s accepting nature. Could the humans really accept his kind? Was there any hope that the polarity of the two could level out? Or had this reveal merely started the clock to the end? How long would it be until it started? The hate crimes and targeted oppression of his kind were all but inevitable. His protective nature would drive him to be off-put at first, the sheer uncertainty of the seemingly instantaneous reveal of the supernatural world would certainly be something that would be the talk of the ages. He only hoped that this wasn’t the calm before the storm. Or much worse the eye of the hurricane, surrounded by the storm as it rages around them. Triston would be uncertain, the endless stream of questions brought up by his long life would rush through his mind like the torrential current of the sea. He has been among man in secret for a majority of his long life. Five hundred years is plenty of time for him to have seen the true nature of man. To destroy what they don’t understand…

Describe your character’s feelings and reactions to the current state of the world, and how it impacts them as an individual:

Triston’s original uncertainty had come to fruition. Within the short duration and multiple collapses of the councils the humans had already established a ridiculous rule to prevent supernaturals from gathering. Segregation at it’s absolute most raw. The ways of man that he spoke of before? These were those ways. He knew all too well from his seemingly endless years on the world of man that the peace would not last. As if it had ever existed in the first place. There were problems of course with everything, but if there was anything Triston had learned from his long life it was how to adapt and survive. While the others were now forced into hiding he had already been in hiding; from himself, from the humans and even from his family. The rebellion gave him at least a minute glimmer of hope for the supernaturals en masse. At least they hadn’t given up and succumbed to this oppression. They still were uniting, even if the union was founded on the blood and bones of their friends and families. The unfortunate souls that were lost to the unavoidable conflict between the two worlds. Triston personally would face a much deeper confliction now. Of course he is pro supernatural, but does that have to inherently make him anti-human? Why did everything always have to be black and white. He was never good with absolutes, Hell the man couldn’t even bring the two parts of himself together; What hope did he have of trying to maintain the last shreds of decentsy and civility among the two castes? For now Triston would stick to what he knew; Protecting the Merlot and it’s denizens from the harsh reality that was encircling them all.

Para Sample:

The wind blew harshly against his cheeks as his footsteps carried him down the roads of the city he now called home. Triston had made a habit of walking a specific route every day that most would have wrongly assumed was to keep his toned physique up to par. In truth though Triston hoped by at least walking the streets, showing his face that he could open the eyes of the two sides of the broiling feud and show them that it was possible to live among eachother peacefully. In his mind it didn’t fully make sense, but he felt the need to do it regardless. He took the time on these walks to observe his city and the people of it; doing whatever he could in order to learn the current state of affairs. Triston wasn’t one to directly confront someone for information, his time as a bodyguard had show him that patience and a listening ear accomplish much more than muscle and brawn ever could. Just as he was getting lost in his observations he would collide with another male, the force of his spaced out walking apparently enough to knock the other man’s groceries all over the sidewalk. “What the hell was that?!? Watch where you’re going punk!” The other would holler out in spite towards Triston, the tone in his voice rang through and through with aggression. Triston had only moments to assess the situation. He stooped low and collected the other man’s groceries, returning them to the other man immediately upon standing to his feet.

His toned arm extended the bag as he spoke his apology, “Yeah, That was my bad. No dodging that, Sorry man. Have a nice day.” His arm remained there for several seconds as the other male stood bewildered by the sincerity in his voice. Triston would even let the edges of his lips curve upward, forming a light smile that accompanied his apology almost perfectly. The Merlot certainly taught him how to diffuse a potentially violent situation as quickly and with as little confrontation as possible. The higher ups didn’t like it when they received complaints about violence among their patrons. That was after all why they paid him to do the job. He was big, he was the personification of the golden boy. His smiles charmed vipers and his words calmed the raging seas, five hundred years in the making Triston had become a master of speechcraft. The man finally collected himself and accepted his groceries back before heading on his way, a content look on his face masked how terrible the man must have felt for reacting so abrasively before. Triston simply tucked his hands into his pockets and continued his walk. Another conflict avoided, another person shown compassion and understanding. That’s how Triston would take his stand in everything that was going on, he just wanted everyone to try and coexist. They had done it for so long without any issues except for the occassional upset, but you don’t judge the entirety of the supernatural worlds based on the actions of specific individuals. There were good people here too, some that didn’t always have the choice of becoming what they are now. Hell, even he didn’t remember any vampire appearing before him. Everything from that day was a haze lost in his adrenaline fueled need to protect his brother from certain injury. Could the humans really judge them so harshly? Hadn’t the humans been waging wars long before the supernaturals were even publicly acknowledged as a reality? The entirety of that situation just left him feeling more desolate than before. One thing was certain, Triston would do whatever it took to keep those he cared for safe. From anyone or anything that tried to harm them; Human or not.

At the same time Triston had been fighting with his conflicted heart again; one side wanted everyone to try and restore the balance that once existed despite how fragile it was, the other knows all too well that any connections that could be made can just as easily be broken or more likely stolen away from you. These damned cynical thoughts plagued his thoughts immensely, he reached to the bridge of his nose and pinched it tightly. He shook his head and tilted his head higher. “Just gotta keep going. You owe it to them. You’re a survivor and you know it. Keep them at hands distance, dont get attached and you’ll be fine.” How were they ever supposed to fix their situation if they couldn’t even agree on what the issues were? He shook his head again before rounding the corner, the inviting visage of The Merlot looming just ahead. He plastered back on his broken smile and spoke to himself again, “Just another day in Hell right?” It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate his job, he just didn’t see it being his final stop. Sure he had settled down for now and tried to establish at least something worth holding on to, but he wasn’t one for hopeless optimism in a world of cold reality. Eventually he knew something would likely drive him to continue his wandering. He wasn’t sure if he was searching for a new meaning, a new start or a new life, but one thing was absolutely clear; He could never, ever go back.

Any questions/concerns/things you’d like to change: (siblings to add, pronouns, sexuality you’d like to specify, personality, face claim, history, etc., etc.)

The only thing I would like to request is input on the app regardless of acceptance or not. As I am returning to tumblr RPG after a decent break the ability to improve or progress further is all I ask for in return for my time. So please let me know if there is anything you guys have to offer as input. Positive or negative; It will be used constructively to help improve my writing and/or future apps.

P.S I am definitely capable of writing much more than I did for the sample. I actually prefer novella writing as I feel it lets me flesh out more distinctive and concise details. I tried to stick a bit closer to the lighter end of para for this as to not come off as a try hard. If you would like a more lengthy sample to get a better idea of my writing ability please don’t hesitate to say so!

[havsgast]

okay so @darklordtomarry tagged me in a thing

rules: list the first lines of your last 20 stories (or however many you have all together). see if there’s any patterns. then, tag your favourite authours.

so... i’m tagging @percysweetheart because we all know i love your writing

anyway, have some first lines paragraphs from unposted fics

1. Definitions and cages (harrymort)

Stockholm Syndrome [definition; noun]      an emotional attachment to a captor formed by a hostage as a result of continuous stress, dependence, and a need to cooperate for survival

Hostage [definition, noun]      Archaic. a security or pledge

Dependence [definition; noun]      the state of relying on or needing someone or something for aid, support, or the like

Survival [definition, noun]      the act or fact of surviving, especially under adverse or unusual circumstances

Unusual Circumstances [definition]      having part of your soul connected to that of a child prophesized to kill you

--

The man that had risen out of the melting cauldron was an impostor.

Impostor [definition, noun]      a person who practices deception under an assumed character, identity, or name

author’s comment bc why not: what i’m currently procrastinating to write on. also everyone will hate me because i love definitions

2. The Phoenix Experiment (tomarry)

The Phoenix Law Experiment: How does a relationship form between two alike subjects who are introduced to a new environment at the same day and time?

Experiment practitioner: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore Test subjects: Harry James Potter (25) and Tom Marvolo Riddle (27)

Day 1: Introduction to new environment (September 1st, Thursday, 8:15 am)

“And this is where you’ll be working. Mr Potter, Mr Riddle, welcome to Phoenix Law.”

“Thank you,-”

“-Albus.” / “-Mr Dumbledore.”

“Play nice, gentlemen. Remember, we’re working together for the greater good. Now, goodbye and good luck.”

“Thanks.”

author’s comment again: once upon a time i thought it’d be cool to write a fic without any descriptions at all, but i’m considering rewriting it to make sense

3. The Girl-Who-Disappeared (tomarry/harrymort)

One-year old Claire Lily Potter looked on with big, hazel eyes as her mother stood in front of her cot; with arms spread wide and back straight her mother made for an impressive sight. Claire’s unruly black hair softened to the dark red shade of her mother’s.

“Not Claire, not Claire, please not Claire!” Lily Evans Potter begged at the cloaked stranger.

“Stand aside, you silly girl… stand aside, now…”

Curious about what was happening, Claire stood up in her cot. She looked towards the white wand that the stranger was holding. Would it make colourful smoke as her father’s wand did earlier?

“Not Claire, please no, take me, kill me instead-”

“This is my last warning-”

“Not Claire! Please… have mercy… have mercy… Not Claire! Not Claire! Please- I’ll do anything-”

“Stand aside- stand aside, girl-”

Claire looked on as a pretty green light filled the room. Her eyes were quick to mirror it, an unconscious decision fueled by her innocent fascination. She turned her eyes to the stranger that had stepped closer to her cot; her mother was no longer standing in front of it. Had her mother left? Oh, her mother was on the floor. Maybe the green light had made mother fall asleep? She stared up at the stranger again. The wand was pointed at her face.

“Avada Kedavra!”

At the exact moment that the spell hit her, Claire blinked. The world turned dark. She cried as the roof fell down around her. The sowilo-shaped scar on her forehead knotted itself together when she cried harder because of the pain.

another author’s comment: it’s not hetero. i love my transgender son harry potter. also i should continue writing this....

4. Perception (tomarry/harrymort)

The summer holiday had started only a week ago, and Petunia Dursley was already having trouble entertaining her son Dudley. As a result, they were taking the train into London for the day. To Petunia’s displeasure, their neighbour Mrs Figg was away at the veterinary with one of her many filthy cats; resulting in Petunia having to bring her nephew along. Dudley was making his own displeasure known loudly as Petunia tried to placate him with promises of new games, ice cream, and watching a movie at the cinema.

Harry Potter, the unwanted nephew of Petunia, was watching as the scenery sped past them. He could hear his cousin Dudley throwing a fit in the background, and wisely tried his best to shut out the sound. It was his first time on the train and he wanted to enjoy it. Harry still felt beyond lucky that Petunia thought bringing him with them was the lesser of two evils, although he should feel insulted that his aunt did not trust him to be home alone. He had long since stopped being offended by anything his relatives called him and had accepted that they thought that they were in the right. The easiest road to survival was to agree with the ones giving him a room and food - even if the room was a cupboard and the food was scarce.

author’s comment once more: MY CANNIBAL!HARRY AU THAT I LOVE WITH MY WHOLE HEART

5. Nyctophilia (hedric/tomarry)

One of the first warnings that parents gave their children was to not be alone outside after darkness falls. They told horror stories about the monsters that awaited nightfall, the monsters that ate lost children. As with all stories, they held a grain of truth. As with all stories, the children grew up to disregard them.

Harry loved the darkness. Xe found comfort in it, a safety that the daylight didn’t have. The air was crisper during nighttime, and the starlight didn’t judge as harshly as the sun. Most nights, xe climbed through xyr window and up on the roof. Harry spent those night laid on xyr back as xe stargazed. Xyr parents were less happy about it. Way less happy about it.

“Hadrian!” xyr mother yelled at xem through xyr bedroom window. “You need to come back inside! It’s dark!”

“Soon!” Harry yelled back. Xe had barely been outside for an hour, and the sun had just disappeared behind the horizon completely. The sky was turning from pink and purples to black. Xe didn’t want to go in at all, but xyr mother could be just as stubborn as xe could be, if not more so.

“Now!” she demanded. Harry could picture the worried frown on her face, and with an annoyed sigh xe decided to give in. Xe could always climb out again in a hour, after xyr parents had gone to bed. Xe had done it before. It was a bit of a task as xe barely reached 155 cm, but xe had a lot of determination. With practiced movements, xe climbed back inside through the window. Xyr mother looked at xem, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Hadrian, how many times do I need to tell you? The monsters will get you one of these nights.” she berated xem.

author’s comment (don’t you just love these?): this fic is literally everything because it has so much like... HARRY USING XE/XEM/XYR PRONOUNS AND MULTIPLE NAMES BECAUSE XE IS GENDERFLUX (this ties in with my experience as genderfluid and changing names more often than pronouns)

6. My heart is underwater (enjoltaire? enjolferretaire? i can’t remember)

Dragons soared in the sky above him, and his mother was among them. Grantaire craned his neck and squeaked, trying to capture her attention. He hadn’t eaten in days because she had been gone, and he didn’t yet know how to hunt on his own.

He was young, not for a human but for a dragon. Just a hatchling, who had yet to get used to his limbs. His eyes were open and he knew how to call for his mother, but any other abilities had yet to come.

It was then, while he was waiting for food, that he heard them. The ancient ones, the dragons that had lived since the beginning of time. They were whispering. He heard their voices in his head, whispers that sounded like stories. They talked about soulmates and destinies that had to be fulfilled. Grantaire listened, wary of the ancients’ tales.

author’s comment: i’m still les mis trash okay, i fully intend to get back to my les mis wips one day

7. You’re beautiful, I’m afraid (enjoltaire)

August 28, 2015. Friday.

Ugly. Disgusting. Fat. Unworthy.

The words echoes in his head. They started to in elementary school, and follows him since then. He goes to university now, and there are no longer any classmates that shouts at his back, but the words have left permanent scars. He can never forget them, and why would he? They are true.

Grantaire drags a hand through his hair, his fingers getting stuck in the unwashed curls. Had he dared look in a mirror, he would have seen a malnourished boy with big hair and scars. As it was, all his mirrors had been covered since he hit puberty. When he looked down on himself, he only saw a pudgy stomach, fat thighs, too hairy legs, and dark skin full of blemishes.

author’s comment: honestly this one is very important to me

[reginasrandomthoughts]

The Bloody Chamber (short story) rambling analysis

TBH, I am posting it only bc I said I would. But boy, it is long. I am totally sure that I changed tone and style at least twice and that I left out some words here and there (I am not reading through all 8300 words at 2am. or ever) And this wasn’t even a school essay... it was meant to be fun.... *cries in the corner*

Enter at your own risk! Also, this is exactly as it was in my goodreads progress update feed bc I wrote it there, bc... I thought it would be shorter?

Oh, boy, where do I start the ramble fest so I would get some use out of it pre-exam? (yes, this is purely for me, and if a poor soul who is not me by accident reads it, please forgive me for not taking you into consideration) That being the preface, let me start.

First thing first, this is obviously a fairytale reimagining, and of the fairy tale Bluebeard. Love that one and loved how it even name dropped it on

pretty much the last page of the story. That was both a polite and bold move and I respect it. The fact that this text is based on that is very obvious and i would go as far as to say that The Bloody Chamber depends on the reader to know the story of Bluebeard before reading it, as, as the story says "Anticipation is the greater part of pleasure," (p15) and this way we can anticipate what is going to come and we understand the context of the story, where it is different, a bit more. It also gives the story a great deal of liberty as now it can gloss over some portions, such as the girl trying the many keys first, her taking her time exploring the castle and trying to behave and her falling for the other guy. These are elements that can be left out or done with shortly because we already know the story, know what is coming and thus do not need it and leaving them out can make the story shorter and keep the flow intact. I truly think that any longer than this, any more details than this and the story would probably have collapsed a bit. This is not the fairy tale style that you can tell near a fire, it banks on building up tension and anticipation so much that it needed to get to the climax quickly or else the tension would have broken on its own and would have killed the story.

Now, I have cited the flow of the story, and so let us talk about it. But first, let me drop it in: retelling Blue Beard as the erotic horror story that it always had the potential of being is amazing. A+ idea, 10/10 would reread again.

Now as for the technical part of the story, I truly admire how tightly crafted it is, the interconnectedness of it, where there are no truly wasted words as the similar words and expressions come back so often that they can just build up this truly sensuous image. There are words like voluptuous and sinuous and so many words that as a result of them appearing frequently and through the explicit evocation of sexual desire just make you think of sex. It fills it with sexual tension on one side.

But on the other side there are the words and images that hint at a darker nature. The husband is many times connected to animal brutality, and just brutality in general, and in two ways.

On one side there are several times when the imagery of food is evoked in connection with her, she is treated as some kind of delicacy that just might be eaten up, a pound of flesh brought on the market, or as in the end it is revealed, a fine game hunted and trapped.

On the other side the brutality comes from the history of the husband (fuck spelling the rank, but for the record, he is a Marquis). first of all, we he is connected through a gift to Catherine to Medici, a (by reputation, do not know much about her) ruthless woman, who has given the family quite a while ago a ring, made of fine gold and an opal the size of a pigeon’s egg (p9). dunno if has anything to do with it but found some info that says the opal is also connected to seeing a change of colour (which might reference how post marriage she will see his true colours) and in the short story it is explicitly stated that opal is a bringer of bad luck (p9). So we can see that the marriage is doomed from the beginning and through the connection to the brutal queen, the long line of dead women we almost didn't even need the reminder of the Marquis's own line of dead wives who wore and "returned" the ring to him to see how this will end badly.

Another piece of ancestral jewelry that is a gift from him is a choker with rubies in it, it is described as an "extraordinarily precious slit throat". And is explained in the next paragraph to be a remain of the trend by French nobility to wear chokers as a reminder of the mass beheadings (p11) and this is something that she must wear during sex as well, as a matter of fact he especially makes her put it on for it. (p17) Now this is a combined foreshadowing. On one hand, it tells us how he wants to kill her: chop of her head the same way St. Cecilia's was (the portrait of whom, another musician, is put up in her piano room. But on the other hand the choker is a symbol of escaping the blade, which us explicitly pointed out as well.

Another brutal element from the past is his seeming nostalgia that back in the times he could have hang, like a flag, their bloody bed sheets to prove her virginity to everyone. (p19)

on p33 it is also revealed that the castle is called the Castle of Murder by the locals and there are stories about the brutality of its former owners, esp. a story about how one of them literally hunted women in the woods like foxes.

But this bit is revealed very late in the game, after the chamber and everything else. Still even without it he has a very creepy vibe to him. She feels it too, she describes him as oppressive and at a part she likens the place to like a huge cage and notes how the tides will cut her off from the world. Another part to note is the terms in which their "love-making" is described.

Their room is the ancestral room, many have lain in it before, including, most likely, his previous wives. For her specifically, a row of mirrors that multiply her are added and when they have sex it is described from the perspective of someone looking at these mirrors: " a dozen husbands impaled a dozen brides". (p17) 'impaled' is a word that connects both to the erotic and murderous components. (Switching over to phone, will probably have more mistakes bc my phone is a little bitch. ) we also get to see what it is like to have sex with him. "As if he had been fighting with [her]" (p18) he "shrieked" and cursed when he orgasmed, his "deathly [or perhaps deadly] composure" shattered. When he was done he was like a felled oak (p17-18). None of these are peaceful or loving images but they are connected to those.

After they are done we can see phrases such as "my husband, who, with so much love, filled my bedroom..." , "reminiscent of papered flesh" "stroked" "caressed" "with tenderness" and he comforts her with murmuring "[she had] never heard before, a voice like the soft consolation of the sea" (p18). He apologizes for hurting her. But the brutality seeps into it as well: the word "embalming" is potent with what is yet to be revealed in the chamber and so does incense. Beyond that she has bled in the process of love making, afterwards the necklace still bites into her neck and her husband says that he couldn't help hurting her. How odd it is to say that but it will tie into a rather odd theme of the story. After this of course, he has to break the idyllic honeymoon by leaving and he also insults her by both diminishing the honeymoon's importance and by saying that he has bought her with "a handful of colored stones and pelts of dead beasts". This again brings in the element of death and foreshadows the moment he will call her whore.

Another element that enters here is the element of ownership. He is ire she won't run bc he owns her (though such allusions were made previously as well).

Circling back a bit to the sex scene and its violence.

The act is violent and is followed by something more tender yea, but what is even more important is that she believes that it might have given her a glimpse into who he truly is without his masks. This is going to be a motivating desire for her just a bit later, to know who he truly is and the placement of this idea connect his real self to all of the following: pain, violence, sensual pleasure, comfort, death, corruption. Yes corruption. I guess it is time we talk about the lilies. (Or more accurately I ramble on about them). P15: "The lilies I always associate with him; that are white. And stain you". This, next to her innocence what comes up the most. She might have been an innocent but he claims that her white face promises a "debauchery only a connoisseur can detect". This makes her his potential equal, his pair as he (Prev quote from p20) is described in terms as "satyr" (p19) , "lecher" (p15). He is a perverse who collects books with phonographic images in them (p17), has painting of erotic nature ( p20) and poses her into a very pornographic situation and makes comments on her like that on several occasions (p15, p11, p19). She is aware of the nature of these situations at each occasion and she is not immune to them and their effect. She responds to his desire as early on as p11: " for the first time in my innocent and confined life, I sensed in myself a potentiality for corruption". She is also the one who recognizes how pornographic her undressing is on p15, she does want to read a yellow covered book and is enchanted by the pornographic images in his book (p16 and p17) and after they have sex a "queasy craving" awakens in her. She has "dark newborn curiosity" she "longs for him" at the same time she is "disgusted by him" , which can suggest that she is resisting the corruption (p22). Nevertheless she lusts for him and at this point the question of ownership comes in again. She accuses him that he left ther to suffer in her inability to fulfill her newfound desires to "show his mastery" over her (p22). Which brings in the idea of sexual domination.

And I think we arrived to the point where we must enter, or at least approach the bloody chamber.

First of all, let me tell you straight out of the gate that I am not quite sure what the bloody chamber is representation vise. Story vise, it is a trap. Now, where does this enter into the story: they had some good sex, he received the call, announces his upcoming departure, they eat dinner, and then they go to the library (coincidentally, where she found the lewd book).

This means that she already got a taste of what pleasures the flesh can offer (I am really trying to not be vulgar hear), she thought that she got a glimpse of the true him, and she knows that in theory she will be lonely and on her own, as the mistress of the house, for the next 6 weeks. at least (p18).

And into this he drops the bomb of the key chain.

"Then, slowly yet teasingly, as if he were giving a child a great mysterious treat, he took out a bunch of keys from some interior hidey-hole in his jacket" p19.

This is a decent place to start untangling this whole mess (btw, @me: yes, i switched back to desktop, much easier). He is teasing her, trying to arouse her curiosity. It is sort of offered as a reward, perhaps for her doing well previously (yes, I do mean in the bedroom). The keys are mysterious not only bc she doesn't know what they open, but also bc she doesn't know the true reason of why she is getting them. The keys also represent him and his wealth. There are keys to trivial areas like the kitchen but also to the picture gallery with priceless paintings.

And here taking a break from the quote analyses I bring me the disturbing stuff: daddy issues and incest:

So it is not surprising that the Marquis, who collects lewd images tells his young wife about them. But there is one image that stands out even though it is glossed over: "a pair of very special Fragonards, commissioned for a licentious [promiscuous] ancestor, who it was said, had posed for the master's brush himself with his own two daughters...." (p20)

Knowing what kind of paintings he likes, and what kind of titles these invented (yes I tried looking them up, source says invented) paintings have "Sacrificial Victim", "The Foolish Virgins" "Out of the night we come, into the night we go", we can safely assume that those, as well as this specific painting are... explicit. Which means that one of his ancestors had erotically charged paintings made of himself with his daughters. And our present Marquis left them on the wall and is not ashamed to talk about them. As a matter of fact, talking about them triggers him to tell her how her face has a promise of debauchery. He assigns a daughterly role to her AS WELL AS that of a wife. He calls her child" on many an occasion even when he is talking to her RIGHT AFTER they had sex ("My dear one, my little love, my child, did it hurt her") and before that as well "Have the nasty pictures scared Baby?" (p18 and p17). He even talks to her in 3rd person like you would to a young child. Disturbing. Well at least she is canonically seventeen.

He is also much older than she is and she is also a girl who lost her father so she has no male authority figure in her life. I really don't want to spell out what this adds up to, but it certainly adds a whole new dimension to the conclusion.

Now back to the quote. He goes on to explain how much he has a king's ransom worth of fine China from this brand, a queen's ransom's worth of China from the other brand (p20), (yes he keeps those locked up) he has keys to safes that have enough jewelry in them that she can change her necklaces and earrings three times a day and he has share certificates that are worth even more.(p21)

She can have at them all.

He purposefully leaves one key unaccounted for. and she asks if that is the key to his heart (p21) and demands it away from him. He "dangled the key tantalizingly above [her] head, out of the reach of [her] straining fingers" and he answers that it is not a key to his heart but to his "enfer". This word triggered my mostly forgotten French, it means hell.

Be back to that in a moments. Than he goes on to say these: "Every man must have one secret, even if only one, from his wife" "promise me you'll use all the keys on the ring except for that last little one" "make toy boats out of my share certificates, if it pleases you" "promise me, if you love me, to leave it well alone" "there I can go... to savour the rare pleasure of imagining myself wifeless" (p21). With these words he placed the highest possible value on this room, above the worth of the certificates that are worth millions. This is something money cannot buy. But this is also the ultimate, hands off, don't touch me, ever. She caught only a small glimpse of his true self and now she wants all of him, his heart, she wants to know who he is, and he especially set that place up as his own private place where he can be himself. He says that the room is at the end of "a dark little corridor full of horrid cobwebs that would get into your hair and frighten you if you ventured there". She warns her specifically: it is a dark place where the past dwells, and my past would frighten you, because there I go specifically to imagine what it would be like if I had no wife. It is a warning that she cannot understand especially because of her innocence: that is a room where "husband" and "wife" cannot coexist. There is no place in it for the both of them. She shows that she doesn't get the warning by replacing the keyword "wifeless" with "bachelor" later (p26).

This room is a dangerous place, where his most private and sinful desires live but he is trying to contain them. He calls it his hell which means that he suffers from it as well.

The problem is that this "one secret" is his true self, the core of his being that she desires to know. He is willing to offer her all the material wealth and is willing to settle for these odd substitutes for his fantasies (the choker and St. Cecilia instead of the beheading) so long as she can leave him in his solitary existence. Now. This is the text. What is the subtext?

Sexual desire. She caught a glimpse of who he is during sex, as a result she wants to see more of it, she wants to have all of him, pretty much the first thing she misses about him is his touch, the room itself is about his sexual desires... and in the middle of his whole explanation of what he has we get this sentence: "in my innocence, he sensed a rare talent for corruption. Combined with everything that came before it this has to refer to her feelings.

Now is as good as any to have the topic of sexual dominance re-enter into this discussion: it’s a matter of control. By entering into the chamber she is disobeying him, challenging his authority, his dominance and that is why she has to be punished. The story explicitly says via Jean- Yves that " you disobeyed him... that is sufficient reason for him to punish you". But the issue is also more complicated.

So now we are finally at the point where she has the keys. She meets with this new guy. He is blind. He cannot see her beauty that tempted the Marquis. he is shy. In this sexually charged world he is the new innocent one but one that does not seem to feel sexual desire himself. He is the safe option (more on that later).

Now let’s get to where she switches on all the lights. She creates artificial daylight, light that can reveal all the secrets her husband is hiding (btw I forgot to note that the bunch of keys came from a hiding place as well? that is a whole lot of hiding: the keys are hidden, he at first tries to hide the last key by ignoring it, the room is hidden though he reveals it too, later the drawer has a hidden compartment as well. he is hiding himself well, yet he wants to be seen, hence the reveals. )

Once there is light she is not afraid to explore and she goes for the study, after she proved that she is not a greedy mistress who will order everyone around and ask for whatever. Even the jewels she puts away bc "[she] would not find his heart amongst the glittering stones". (p25) she searches his drawers and even notes that he must have a lot to hide if he is doing it so thoroughly. She also finds some papers that hint at criminal activity and she even ponders if the crime alone is his reward. She gets so close to figuring him out, to sensing the danger but she is still impressed by "his zeal for secrecy". (p25) and then the hidden drawer pops up with the single folder marked as personal. "I had the brief notion that his heart... lay in this file. It was a very thin one". (p26) she is still looking for his heart, for him.

Now what does she find in that file? Trophies or keepsakes from the previous wives. (hard to tell the difference in this situation) Love notes to be exact.

The first she pulls is a napkin from the La Couple, a restaurant, on the Boulevard du Montparnasse, which is not in Montmartre, where the Her worked as a barmaid in a café (p10), but close enough. I will take it. The note says " My darling, I cannot wait for the moment when you may make me yours completely". This is important bc it is in part submissive, it is offering full control to him and him alone, but as another poem or work I have read said it "you cannot belong to me fully until even a piece of you belongs to someone else" so having her fully to him would mean severing all of her other ties, which means killing her. She can only be truly his, and his alone until she is alive. This note makes it sound like her murder was to a degree a shared desire, they both wanted to unite in that violent way.

Second note is from the singer and it has the single world Until scrawled across a score of Liebestod from Tristan. Liebestod means "love death" the erotic death of two lovers, the consummation of that love in or after death. Which also means something like "yeah, I totally wanna be in your erotic murder fantasy". or something similar. I am mildly sure that all the other women kinda knew what they were signing up for. The lat one is from the Romanian countess, it is a postcard of a graveyard where a grave is being dug. The note this time around says "On the occasion of this marriage to the descendent of Dracula - always remember, "the supreme and unique pleasure of love is the certainty that one is doing evil." Toutes amitiés, C.”

Blatant. These women have to have known what was going to happen. They all are making references to it. This note even reassures him that in love one has to do evil. Carmilla, the countess calls herself a descendant of Dracula and that is accurate due to intertextuality: she is Romanian, from Transylvania to be precise, just like Dracula. She is a countess, the female pair of the count, which was Dracula's title. Her name is Carmilla as in the novel Carmilla about a female vampire, but one that also came before Dracula, but this Carmilla lives after Dracula. Confusing? Well, I don't know how hard I was intended to think about this, but it feels like there is this monstrous woman (a vampire) who in a way gave life to his male counterpart and received new life (relevancy) through him. I am not saying f-ed up incest, but I am. It's complicated. Kinda like a self-birthing metaphor if I read really hard into it. The point that I am obviously supposed to get though is that she is a vampire, something that was a symbol??/metaphor??/way to discuss sexual repression. And a vampires sexuality is always predatory and connected to violence. Carmilla and the Marquis might just have been two monsters finding each other.

(p26, all of that). Back to our little lady: she does not understand these "grown up games" but she feels like "these were clues to his self that showed me, at least, how much he was loved, even if they did not show a good reason for it". (p26) She doesn't see the reason, bc she does not understand the game, that these people found death to be some kind of dark, erotic pleasure, an ultimate expression of love and ownership.

So since she does not really get it, but only knows that this is a part of her husband she decides to go and find him. To quote (long quote) "Perhaps I half-imagined, then, that I might find his real self in his den, waiting there to see if indeed I had obeyed him; that he had sent a moving figure of himself to New York, the enigmatic, self-sustaining carapace of his public person, while the real man, whose face I had glimpsed in the storm of orgasm, occupied himself with pressing private business in the study at the foot of the west tower, behind the still-room. " (p26) There is it again sex and the true face, and also an issue I have not mentioned and will not discuss yet: doubling.

Anyway, she goes to the chamber. He called it his hell and suitably, it is underground, and the soothing sound of the sea does not reach it.

Before she enters there are some pretty neat similes: "the key slid into the new lock as easily as a hot knife into butter." (p27)

And now I got to one of the fun parts where I can start to throw in a theory: I already mentioned recently, that these women probably knew what they were getting into (further evidence is that the opera singer had a smile on her dead lips). I also already mentioned that the Marquis made this place sound like older than it was: cobwebs and all, like it was a part of his past. Like it is the past (not the present or her future). I also mentioned that he is trying to contain his murderous desires. He was suggesting that when the impulse comes to him he will lock himself away from her, far away from her. And here is another piece: the lock is new. I wonder was it made recently? in preparation for her? It was her innocence that attracted him. Maybe he did not want to devour her, and we will see further support for it a bit later on.

Anyway, we get another soft mention of how her innocence is already tainted (this is important bc she is quickly loosing to his desires (and to her own that were triggered by his, so really to his desires) the quality that attracted him to her, a.k.a. what was keeping her safe.

Also important to note before we enter is that she thinks that she "might find a little of his soul" inside. (p26)

Now after this there is a soft break, a single empty line before we enter and the entrance starts with a quote from the Marquis's favourite poet: "There is a striking resemblance between the act of love and the ministration of torture" (p26). this harkens back to Carmilla's note about the pleasure of love being doing evil. Weird thing is, that she says that she learned something of that sort in their wedding bed as well. Does she mean that the evil was hurting her (painfully taking her virginity) but it came with certain pleasures? Maybe.

Now the room is dark. Electricity does not reach it. Her man-made daylight doesn't reach it so she has to light and relight candles, even the ones around the dead body of the opera singer. So she explores. At first she believes that the torture devices are there for contemplation and that it is a "little museum of his perversity" (p28), which is yet again an explicit link between sex and violence. Then she sees the catafalque.

Now a catafalque, especially one of Renaissance workmanship is something, expensive and precious. It shows care. There is incense burning, there are candles, there are flowers. Care was taken with this place and it especially shows in the fact that he embalmed her. Then she sees the skull of the barmaid turned model. Then she opens the Iron Maiden to find the Countess. (who died only 3 months prior.

Now let's take a look at how these women were killed: The opera singer, the performer was strangled by hand (in my opinion a rather intimate but not too sexual way to kill someone, or at the very least Criminal Minds never told me that if someone strangles someone than it is a replacement for penetration (that is stabbing or so I've been told). She is covered with a thin sheet "such as the princes of Italy used to shroud those whom they had poisoned", which can here mean that he tainted, poisoned her with his desires. She is also given flowers, just like divas are after a good performance. Coincidentally (not) those are the same kind of lilies that her room was full of when she arrived.

The skull is crowned with white roses and has a bridal veil and is hung into the air, hung like it is on an invisible wall, like an art piece, bc the woman whose skull it is was a model. Care was taken again to make it personal, to fit the death to the one receiving it.

This brings us to Carmilla, the vampire. She is in the Iron Maiden, a coffin, like the ones vampires sleep in. When the little lady is looking for her body she notes this: "Then, for some reason - perhaps some change in the atmosphere wrought by my presence - the metal shell of the Iron maiden emitted a ghostly twang; my feverish imagination might have guessed its occupant was trying to clamber out" (p29).

This further builds into the vampire motive by implying that she is undead. But of course she isn't. She has been impaled by the spikes of the Iron Maiden. She is impaled. This is a nice throw back to how she described her lovemaking with the Marquis, and how vampires are impaled (Dracula was) and how many say Dracula's real life inspiration was Vlad the Impaler. And just to keep playing with the vampire theme there is also a lot of blood.

As a matter of fact, there is a truly unreal amount of blood. She drops the key into "her forming pool of blood" (p29) she instantly notes that she looks so newly dead and so full of blood. But how the hell would this happen? I am going on a bit of a tangent here.

HOW THE HELL IS THERE BLOOD!? I understand the needs of the atmosphere and it is bloody brilliant and I will talk about it but first let me get this portion cleared. The Marquis was supposed to have been widowed 3 months ago (p10). Now at this page it also says that it was a boating accident and the body was never found. So either of two things happened: a) he killed her two months ago, stuffed her into the Iron Maiden, which impaled her and she died. Three months. Blood should have coagulated by the time of this incident. I did a quick search and it said that that should happen around 10 hours after death? And I can understand that the pull of gravity pulls the blood down and it flows out through the wounds on her legs (I looked up if it could work) but here is the thing. It should have flown out into the Iron Maiden and dried there.

Another possibility is that she died recently. That he stuffed her into this thing somewhere offscreen after they arrived back. BUT ten hours probably passed between point in time and his departure as well so same thing here (when he leaves there is a "little thin starlight in the courtyard" (p21) and now it is dinner time again bc she dismissed the servants for the night (p25). There is no logical reason why that corpse should or could bleed. Tangent over.

But of course, this ties into the vampire theme and so I will take it.

So, how does our little lady react to this all? With notions like she is "the next in the fated sisterhood of his wives" and she feels "pity for his other victims and also a dreadful anguish to know that [she] too was one of them". She counts herself amongst their ranks, has no illusions about escaping.

Now we have to note here that she dropped the key into the unlikely, undead blood of Carmilla. It is magic blood.

No, I am not even joking. Carmilla's blood is magic, because it shouldn't be flowing by then but also because you cannot get rid of it. When she realizes a bit later that her husband is coming back she tries to wash off the blood "but as if the key itself were hurt, the bloody token stuck"(p33). She can't wash it off.

Then later on when she is forced to retrieve it and show it to him she notes that the blood "had resolved itself into a mark of the shape and brilliance of the heart on a playing card. "(p36). This is the same blood that was not liquid enough to be washed off. But this is also the same magic blood that at the light touch to her forehead "had transferred itself" to it (p36) (the heart shaped mark) and that later on, even when he is already dead can be covered by "no paint nor powder, no matter how thick or white" (p41). The undead Carmilla, her predecessor, her newfound sister have marked her as a sinner, as the next in line to die and join them. With magic blood.

Anyway she goes back upstairs and tries to think of a plan (after she draws our attention to the portrait of St. Cecilia and wonders how she died bc she too already knows that she will share her fate.

She tries to think of a plan, but she thinks the servants might be in cahoots with the Marquis, prevent her escape or just plain old pretend that they don't know what she's talking about is she goes to them for help. She tries the phone, but the line went dead (yet not long ago she managed to get a call to her Mum in Paris during which she cried and this will be important bc of Deus ex Mama).

She still has the hope that her husband might truly have gone to New York, but in a moment of foreshadowing fake-out when she is playing her piano she hears the drop of a stick and thinks it is him in front of her door. It is not. It is the piano tuner brought in just today, just for her, safe and shy Jean-Yves who is very sympathetic to her plight. He also has a creepy crush on her bc of her piano skills. He was eavesdropping in front of the door. He also brought back to her the keys she dropped at her husband’s office, which is a nice gesture of giving her back some semblance of control.

So the theory here, my theory, is that Jean-Yves is an innocent who due to his blindness is impervious to the lady's charm and face that promises debauchery, he hears only her music that is tying her to St. Cecilia. Through his adoration and puppy dog love she gets absolved of her sins and that is why he is later on "her lover (p38 and p39) and why the Marquis thinks they are besotted and why they end up staying together. She on p41 notes that she is happy he cannot see her mark bc it "spares [her] shame". These are literally the ending words of the story yet I cannot make much of them. Spare her from having to be ashamed of being marked by an evil supernatural entity? Her shame of being in a past relationship? Her shame of her own sexual desires? (more on that later)

If Carmilla was a supernatural being then we can interpret Jean-Yves as one as well. He is the good guy, who ties the lady to the heavens through giving her back "her own particular magic" (p31) her piano music, bc he was the one who tuned it to perfection, He also has supernaturally good hearing and he could hear the change of the tides and the coming of her mother from one hell of a distance. He is an "angel". And as such he is chaste, there are no hints of sexual desire tying them together, which can bring this story out to have a very odd message I might not care for much.

It is also odd that while Jean-Yves is there to give her comfort he does not act. He listens to her, warns her of both the good and the bad, accompanies her to the courtyard but he cannot even open the gate on his own. She has to help with that. It's a but like he is not even tangibly, physically there.

But back to the juice part, the Marquis arrives home. He gives her a story of why he is home early that she does not believe. "I had been tricked into my own betrayal to that illimitable darkness whose source I had been compelled to seek in his absence and, now that I had met that shadowed reality of his that comes to life only in the presence of its own atrocities, I must pay the price of my new knowledge". (p34) She likens it to Pandora's box that she was always meant to open. Now remember that back a hella long time ago I said we were going to talk about doubling? We are talking about doubling.

With the little lady we are talking about mirrors. There are two selves: the innocent, naive self that is in the physical world and there is the more sensuous sinner, the version of herself that the Marquis sees, that she always sees only in the mirror. P11: she catches the first glimpse of what he sees when he looks at her in a mirror. The bedroom is full of mirrors (p14) she catches a glimpse of how they look when she is almost completely naked in a mirror (p15), their lovemaking is described from the perspective of someone looking into the mirrors as well (p17) and when she is preparing to meet him for her execution she, combing her hair she is again, looking into the mirror (p37). Now with her, this is interesting bc of two reasons: one she likens her mark to the mark of Cain (p36). The mark of Cain, as far as my vague knowledge of the Bible and 5 seconds of googling tells me, is the result of Cain's murdering of his sibling, Abel.

But who did she kill? I my opinion this is a reference that she merged with her reflection and became that sinful woman. She killed her innocent self, her "mirror sister" if you'd like. This idea is supported by her circumstances as well. The Marquis is the one that gives her the mark, and he is placed in the position of God, even as early as in the chamber: "as if to tell me the eye of God - his eye - was upon me (p29). His voice when he speaks before he gives her the mark sounds like "great cathedral organs that seem, when they are played, to be conversing with God" (p36) and she has to kneel before him. But likening her mark to the mark of Cain is also interesting bc the mark is supposed to protect Cain from a premature death. That protection was given to Cain by God and if this mark follows the analogy, then the Marquis gave her a similar mark that would protect her. This explains a lot: how she could get away with the loitering, how he took her time with the execution with kissing her nape and all that (39), how he froze up just long enough that her mother, who arrived just in time, mind you, could shoot him before he can do her harm. If this is, in its function Cain's mark then it did its job and the Marquis gave it to her, which I will gladly use in my reluctant killer argument.

Also, if the mark she is wearing is a mark of Cain then it makes sense that it does not come off and that she does not wish for the "angelic" Jean-Yves to see it.

Now, let's talk about doubling with the Marquis. With him it is more the personality. His projected and true selves. P18: she catches a glimpse of his true self while he orgasms. (he too gets doubled in the mirrors but it is alongside of her so it is not counted here) p21: with the key to your heart line his heart is separated off of the rest of his being, same happens with the file (p26) and his soul (p27). P26, she physically separates in her mind the public and the private by saying that he sent the public to New York and the private is in the chamber and again on p34 by saying that there is a self of his that comes alive only at certain times, when he encounters other beings like himself. There can be some duality sensed in how he plays both the role of the Devil, the tempter and God, who ultimately saves her. This duality is reflected in his attitude towards killing her as well: he feels both shamed and excited for what is about to happen. He comforts even as he threatens (p36).

So now we arrived to the question:

why did she have to die?

The answer is love. He told her that if she loves him she will leave the chamber alone (p21) but it was exactly because she loved him, that she wanted the true him that she had not obeyed. Alternatively we can make this about carnal lust, but just bc she caught her first glimpse of him during sex there is no need to go there. I think. I won't.

So as previously discussed she was looking for the true him, his heart, his soul, the phantom self that might have been waiting for her in the chamber.

Love was also the reason why the other women died, though as discussed, they might have been more willing participants in this weird love ritual than the little lady, with whom he might have expressed some reluctance.

So to revise my evidence for that so far: fair warning, new lock, talks as if in that is all in the past, mark of Cain, comfort giving.

Now here is a quote from when she returns back: "and it seemed to me he was in despair" "I felt there emanate from him, at that moments, a stench of absolute despair, rank and ghastly". She also observes that it was as if the lilies started to fester and his seductive scent was breaking down (p35), To me it communicates that his uglier nature is coming out in the presence of the sinner who has caught a glimpse of him and is tainted by him, but that his better part is not necessarily happy with the arrangement. "The evidence of that bloody chamber had showed me that I could expect no mercy. Yet, when he raised his head and stared at me with his blind, shuttered eyes as though he did not recognize me, I felt a terrified pity for him, for this man who lived in such strange, secret places that, if I loved him enough to follow him, I should have to die.

The atrocious loneliness if that monster"

He is looking at her with blind eyes not recognizing her, not seeing the temptation that he did from the very beginning. These are the last moments when he is still capable of these feelings because the worse part of him won this round and now that she knows what he truly is, what he truly is like she has to die. It is like he too met his double and him too was burnt up by it. She and him, they both saw the worst parts of each other (the disobedient wife who does not "love her husband enough" to respect his requests and the man that needs to own his lovers so completely only death will do). They are not on par, sure but there is this parallel.

Now I only want to highlight one more thing from here: "My little love, you'll never know how much I hate daylight' (p36). This ties back to how she switched on every lamp, how she flooded everything with light and how the sunlight illuminates the world and reveals the things that are hidden in the dark. He hates that his secret self keeps resurfacing, that room, that self is his hell, but he gets pushed back into it all the time, because once that self comes alive it takes over (as we see how he completely changes by the end, p36: still gives comfort calls her pet names p38: he calls her a wicked woman and a whore).

Now one more thing before we move on (yeah, I lie a lot about moving on from topics): the public self already married the young lady, that the chamber's self sees as St. Cecilia (actually calls her that on p38) but for the chamber's self this is the true wedding, the murder. This is the kind of union all the other women were hinting at and this is what is about to happen here too. He tells her that the castle is going to be empty because he had given the servants "a day's holiday, to celebrate our wedding" (p37). It is a ceremony too, like a wedding. She has to bath and get dressed in special dress for it and meet him at the "altar". When she is reluctant to go down to the courtyard to meet him he calls up to her: "Shall I come up to heaven to fetch you down, Saint Cecilia? You wicked woman, do you wish me to compound my crimes by desecrating the marriage bed?" (p38) She is still in the music room at this point so it is a metaphorical marriage bed, the place where he wants to execute her and he does not want to desecrate it by either moving the execution elsewhere or forcing her into it. She has to come on her own. When she appears with a boy she automatically becomes a "whore" for that same reason. She is cheating on him. This also makes the "why is he kissing her nape from p39 make sense. They are getting married, it is their Liebestod and she even notes that he gets her just as naked as the first time he undressed her (the time before they had sex), but this time around it is by cutting her clothes away.

Of course this wedding is interrupted by the mother crashing in on horseback and shooting the Marquis who is likened to a "man-eating tiger that had ravaged the villages in the hills of north Hanoi" (p40).

Ofc the mother sensing that her child is in danger (bc she never heard her child cry in happiness before and knew that if she is crying something is wrong) came in as a great hero is a kind of on the nose way to communicate that 'mother knows best'. She never really liked the Marquis and was sad about the marriage and now she came to protect her young and naive daughter from the predatory man who wanted to hurt her. It kind of says that it is a mother's job to do that because young girls still cannot recognize a threat like this.

Now before I wrap up the conclusion I want to point out one last thing. She had the castle transformed into a school for the blind so now there are children there (needed to explain to put the quote into context.

"I pray that the children who live there are not haunted by any sad ghosts looking for, crying for, the husband who will never return to the bloody chamber". (p40) Now she either understands that those women loved him and that through death they united with him or she is projecting a bit, so she is missing him. (though she mentions that Jean-Yves is living with them but she talks about him so briefly). Either way it is kind of poetic that now these women, who understood her husband better than she did are the ones who have to look for and cry for him though they had him more than she did when he was alive, though it can be viewed that the Liebestod was complete, but simply the other way around and she had him in his death (if we accept my mark of Cain line of thought. Also, the mark took the shape of a heart, which is the symbol of love, especially romantic love. Just throwing that in as well.

As for the conclusion, the part that we should learn from, let's see.... I kinda hate to say it but it is kind of a tale that warns against not only predatory men, but sexual desire, desiring and being desired as well, and especially against a woman taking charge of her own desires. (to be honest it can be understood as any sort of desires bc material wealth was what lured her in, sexual desire and love made her stay and at the end she gave away most of her inherited wealth and is in a non-sexually charged relationship.) Not really a moral i can get behind, but as a fairy tale it was made for a different time (and yes, I say that even though it is a retelling bc I don't feel like the core changed.).