#and i tried to avoid spoilers at first when the game came out but its been impossible

[lystring]

😔 i caved once more...i got some money for christmas and dav is on sale on steam so i bought it lol its currently downloading. this might be a huge mistake

[no1bookgirl]

Wild Goose Turkey Chase

Synopsis: Every year, since Tobais Hawthorne discovered Nash’s fondness for turkeys, Hawthorne House has set up a pen full of turkeys somewhere outside of Hawthorne House. In 2024, 27 years after the first turkey pen had been set up, a certain Hawthorne *cough* Xander *cough* forgot to lock the pen correctly. The turkeys put their brains together and hobbled out of the pen, now having free reign of Hawthorne House, tormenting its occupants with a haunting gobble.

POV: 2nd from you as Grayson’s gf!!

Pairings: Grayson x Reader, Avery x Jameson, Libby x Nash, and Xander x Max!

wc: 9.8k

a/n: Thanksgiving fic!! one of my first actual character x reader things. I was going to do a halloween themed one cause halloween would be crazy at hawthorne house, but thanksgiving was much more festive! (this might also be a day or two after thanksgiving 🙄🙄) Warning!! one y/n usage that I really tried to avoid… I hate having to write y/n it’s so icky to me ☹️ MINOR GAMES UNTOLD SPOILERS!!!

Now, I present: Wild Goose Turkey Chase

Wednesday, November 20th, 2024

When you are the girlfriend of Grayson Hawthorne, former heir apparent of philanthropist Tobias Hawthorne, you were bound to have that big, fancy Thanksgiving that you felt you could never get used to. You were also bound to getting caught in the antics of his brothers. And their girlfriends.

Yeah, Hawthorne Thanksgiving was good, lavish, luxury, chaotic especially, but you couldn’t help but remember your fondness for your grandmother’s mashed potatoes. Or your mom’s turkey. Those quiet, comfortable, small Thanksgivings. The ones where you’d actually have time to go around the table and share something you’re grateful for.

Trying to take your mind off of your need for your grandma, for your mom, just for your family again, you walk down the art gallery, staring at the walls of endless works. Your eyes fall upon one exhibit, a large amount of turkey-hand paintings ordered by year. There were four rows of them, each containing around eight paintings. The top row was Nash’s, the hand feathers becoming more defined as the years grew on. It was cute to think of the Hawthorne brothers squishing their hands in paint, pressing it against paper, and decorating it was silly items like top hats and monocles, a cowboy hat and a lasso, or sun glasses and a glass of wine.

You’d done the same project when you were a child, running home from the bus stop, paper fluttering in the wind, slamming the door open and proudly displaying your artwork on the fridge. Gentle hands would rub your back, cheek kisses were also common, soft words would encourage your art.

Before actually meeting the brothers, you never would’ve been able to imagine them doing that from what you had seen. It would feel too forced, like they just didn’t fit into that picture of childishness. But maybe that was one of their plans all along, Grayson’s plan. He needed to be that mature business man, always trying to keep himself steady, others steady too, including you until you saw through that facade, breaking him open to see who he really could be.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Grayson’s voice came from behind you, the now audible clicking of his shoes becoming louder.

“Yeah,” you laughed. Turning around, you found one of those rare Grayson smiles plastered on his face, warming her heart. Maybe it was the holiday spirit, or maybe the fun memories of the turkey hands.

He looked down, like he was nervous, but you could still see the hint of the smile. “It’s you,” he said as if reading your mind, “that’s making me smile like this. Even after being together for three years, it’s still so foreign.”

“Well, I’ve gotten used to your smile.” You took a few steps closer to him, closing the gap as you wrapped your arms around him. “Gray?”

“Hm?”

“Do you want to know something I’m thankful for this Thanksgiving season?” you asked innocently, batting your eyelashes at him.

He cocked his head. “Friends?”

“Close…”

“Family?”

“Closer…”

He chewed on his lip, in actual thought. “I give up,” he said, mock defeat in his voice.

“This Thanksgiving season, I’m grateful for…” you paused for dramatic effect, your mouth staying in a wide open-mouthed smile. “You.”

Grayson’s brows shot up, even though you had told him this millions of times before. “Really?” he asked, his arms finally wrapping loosely around your torso.

“Forever,” you sing, rocking you and Grayson back and forth, “and ever and ever and ever.”

The two of you sit there for a moment, taking in each other in the silence, wrapped up all nice and cozy compared to the outdoors. But everything with Grayson was warm. Swimming was warm because of summer. Grayson was warm because he was your sun, the thing that brought that smile to your face, the sun that faded down into a calmer, more comforting figure as the day dragged on. Grayson was the warm person you would wake up to in the morning, pressing yourself against his chest or his hair or wherever you happen to be.

Grayson leaned down into your ear, his breath warm, heating you up even more. “They’re setting the turkey pen up soon,” he commented. “Do you think it would be fun to watch?”

“Grayson,” you cock your head at him, “we do this every year: You come up to me, butter me up and all that jazz, then ask if I want to watch them build the pen, which we end up doing no matter what I say.”

He chuckled at you, at all the other turkey pen watching times you’d been together. Reaching around his back, he grabbed on of your hands, giving it a gentle kiss. “Shall we?”

You gave one of those small, flustered smiles even if he had done this so many times before. “Why, yes, prince charming.”

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The pen was always a grand thing, more than enough room for the turkeys. There were about seven or eight turkeys in there, not at all knowing they would get slaughtered in only a matter of days at the hands of the greedy, and hungry, Xan- Hawthornes.

“I feel bad for them,” you said, letting your head rest against Grayson’s shoulder as a frown deepened on your face.

Grayson’s head cocked gently. “Why is that?”

“Because they don’t know they’re going to be eaten,” you began, even more empathy creeping in now that you actually expressed your sadness. “They just think they’re getting out in a new fancy home.”

“Well, all things have to come to an end at some point, and sometimes that end might not be when you’d expect or want,” said Grayson, his voice soft and steady, keeping you down.

You nodded absentmindedly, continuing to stare at the helpless turkeys. “I guess you’re right. But when are you not?” you murmured, hopeful that he didn’t hear the last part. But by the small smirk that he somehow couldn’t suppress, you could tell he did hear it.

“Who’s all coming for Thanksgiving this year? It’s approaching faster than I’d like.”

“There’s a few new people coming this year,” Grayson said, a half sigh in his voice. “I know Gigi and Katrina will be joining us this year.”

Your heart dropped at the mention of that cat. Lord did it scare you. Not that you were scared of cats, but the way the leopard sized cat would stare at you from Gigi’s arms, it’s pupils shrinking as it looked like it was planning you to be her next meal. Grayson always made sure to keep a safe distance between you and Katrina whenever Gigi decided it was her turn to barge into your room. Whether it be holding Katrina or letting her sleep on him, he’d separate you two.

“That damn cat,” you breathed out.

“Knox may also be here this year, maybe not. Lyra’s having Thanksgiving with her family. All the rest of the normal people will be there: Avery, obviously, Jameson, Libby, Nash, then on,” he said.

You blew out a long breath, wishing you could see it in the air. If it wasn’t cold enough to see your breath, it wasn’t Thanksgiving yet. And Texas had a long way to go. 70° F was no where near what homes temperature would be around this time of month. Now, coats would start to be pulled out of the basement. A sweatshirt wouldn’t be enough to keep you warm. Hats wouldn’t be out for a while. It always seemed that something, just one thing, was just off enough for this place to not feel like home.

Even if you came here almost every break you got in school since you met Grayson three years ago, it still never felt right. Too hot. Too stuffy. Too many people. They didn’t know what you meant when you called certain things differently. You’re offered sweet tea instead of lemonade on those hot summer days. It was never enough. And you felt bad. Grayson always tried to make you feel at home here, safe, secure. You tried to make yourself seem happy, but Grayson could see right through it.

A whirring sound came from somewhere around the corner. Grayson’s arm instinctively went to wrap around you, holding you closer to him. A… figure emerged from the corner. It was Tiramisu… in a child sized Jeep?

Without having to see who it was, Grayson called out, “Xander.” It was silent before Xander popped out from behind you and Grayson, his arm tightening even more around you. You yelped, clinging on to Grayson.

“Greetings, fellow residents.” Xander gave them no time before he started to ask questions. “How has your day been? How do you like Tiramisu’s Jeep? How about the turkeys? Are they interesting this year? Should I dye them purple-“

“Alexander,” Grayson commanded, stopping Xander in his tracks. You’d almost never seen Xander stop talking this quickly, but he was silent. “There is no need to dye the turkeys, or anything for that matter, purple.”

Xander’s lip puffed out in a pout. “But that’s the best part,” he whined, knowing full well that he would do it anyway. And temporarily dye Grayson’s hair to get back at him.

Contorting your face, you look to Xander. “I don’t think purple is very festive…”

Xander looked up, taking that into consideration, and nodded. Tiramisu panted from beneath you, wiggling against whatever was keeping him in the toy car. Xander bent down to pet him, earning wet dog kisses to his hand.

“We better get going,” he said, “Tiramisu Panini Hawthorne, you’ve got a long day ahead of you.”

Your brows furrowed. “You training him for the Macy’s day parade or something?”

“Similar to that. Hawthorne style,” he said with a grin that greatly reflected Jameson.

“Do not suspend him from a helicopter like you did with our last dog? That did not end well for Wilhelmina,” Grayson scolded.

What happened to Wilhelmina?

Xander huffed out a long sigh, groaning and whining like a little kid. “You always ruin my plans, little Graybe-“

“Don’t even try that with me, Alexander.” The full name again. What was up with him today?

Xander turned around, pulling out a remote control to have Tiramisu slowly follow him as he sulked away. But Tiramisu’s smiley little dog face was the opposite of Xander’s, tongue out and panting.

“Xander?” you called. He slowly, dramatically, turned around to face you again. “Who’s feeding the turkeys?”

“We’re going in an order. I’m first, then Jamie, Grayson, Nash, Avery, Libby, and last Oren,” he mumbled, still keeping his sad face on.

He turned back around, pulling out a remote control to push Tiramisu around as he wobbled away. Beside Xander, Tiramisu was the opposite, his face all smiley, tongue out, tail wagging, and panting.

When they were far enough away, you looked up at Grayson, your best attempt at a mad face directed at him.

He noticed your expression, arching a brow—those weirdly perfect brows. No, it was actually weird—and cocking his head. “What’s that face for?”

“That was really mean, Grayson. I think you should apologize,” you declared.

Grayson gave you a look, one that you knew meant that you both mutual understood something, but you were deciding to act like you didn’t. “He’s going to be okay. I know he’s going to be okay. And the look he gave me just means he’s going to do that, but ten times worse.”

“But you called him his full name. Twice!” You’d almost never heard Xander be called by his full name. Not even by Nash. It genuinely took you a second to realize that Alexander wasn’t an inside joke between Xander and Grayson.

“Trust me, he’ll be okay,” he said, finally, squeezing your arm and giving you a kiss on the top of the head. “Now, how about we go back to our gallery walk?”

The smile reappeared on your face and the two of you turned around, making your way back into Hawthorne House.

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Thursday, November 21st, 2024

Somehow, on this fine evening, every just so happened to be eating lunch at the same time, small talk filling the table as they passed plates around, piling food on top of other food that you knew were not goin for taste good once all mixed together. But for some strange reason, Avery and Jameson made it a competition to see who could stack their plate higher without a single thing falling. They were both well off their plates, at least six inches of food each. You and Grayson shared the same disgusted look. Yeah, your family wasn’t as fancy as all these people, but at least you had manners.

Suddenly, with dramatic effect, Xander burst into the room, a panicked look that you had never seen before on his face. The bang made Avery jump, knocking over everything on your plate, mingling with all the other food. Her hand flew over her mouth at the mess. Not only did it topple over and mix everything, it splattered everything everywhere, on everyone, and Tiramisu was more than happy to clean up the floor.

“Xander!” Avery screeched. Her face softened when she saw Xander’s. “Xander..?

“They. Are. Gone.” He punctuated each word with a force you’d expect out of Grayson.

Nash swiftly stood up, getting into his ready stance. “Who is gone, Xan?”

“The turkeys. When I went to go check and see if they ate all their breakfast, there was only one left. I didn’t close that pen right, they’re all gone,” his tone was frantic, more than you had ever heard from him before.

Grayson followed Nash but his stance was much more protective, aware. “That just means that they are on the premises, not exactly inside of Hawthorne House.”

Xander shook his head violently. “They are inside. The seven that got out. And they are out for revenge,” he panted. You finally made the connection that he was probably running from them.

Oren started to talk to someone on his radio, giving them instructions on what measures to take next. Xander sat down at the table, swiping his finger through Avery’s fallen mix of ham, cheese, mayo, grapes, and some garlic sauce. Xanders face twisted, then loosened, and continued that pattern. Grayson had migrated over to Oren, trying to go through everything they had to do.

The rest of the lunch was silent, doors locked, waiting for the anticipation of the turkeys.

“So everyone-“

“Shut the fuck up.”

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It wasn’t long before one of the turkeys tried to claim its first victim.

Can turkeys fly?

Yes, turkeys can fly, but only short distances.

Speed

Wild turkeys can fly at speeds of up to 55 miles per hour.

Oh. My. Fucking. God. Help me.

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You were aimlessly roaming Hawthorne House, trying to find something to distract yourself with. Thundering footsteps came from down the hall, screaming accompanying the steps. It was a familiar shriek. Avery. And then you heard it, what she was running from. The gobbles echoed through the endless halls, not allowing you to know where it was coming from.

You looked around for any kind of escape, anything high enough that you could still climb on. You time spent with the Hawthornes and built you an expertise in climbing, even when there was almost nothing to climb. There was the tiniest ledge, just enough to fit your foot, so, you began your climb. Arm moving up and over, feet bracing against the wall.

On top of the ledge, your legs shook, almost taking you down to the ground. Avery’s footsteps grew louder as they approached you, the flapping of wings following. She shrieked again, the slapping of her shoes against the ground growing closer together, her legs moving faster.

“What the fuck!” she screamed, her arms pumping as she rounded a corner, coming in to view.

Suddenly, she ran into something. She faced the turkey, its speed slowing. They were at a standstill. Avery versus the turkey. Avery stood proud, trying to cover her obviously shaking hands and legs, her breathing ragged. She licked her lips, staring down the turkey. Taking her eyes off for only a second, she looked up at you, pleading in her gaze.

“Are you just gonna sit there and stare? Help me!” she called out, disturbing the turkey. It gave an aggressive gobble, taking a step toward Avery and flapping it’s wings. She moved backwards, slightly stumbling.

Under you, the wall shook, knocking you off balance. You almost fell, but narrowly caught the ledge with your shaking fingers, her hands almost too sweaty to hold you up. Without any warning, a loud crack came from under you. Avery instinctively ducked down, her arms covering her head. The turkey fell over, it’s body still on the floor, a small hole behind where the turkey had just stood.

It felt like your legs moved without any signals from your brain, nothing was telling you to move but you were.

“Avery!” you said, rushing over to her. You knelt beside her, your hand rubbing up and down her back. “It’s okay, shh, you’re okay,” your voice was gentle. Her body shook as she pulled herself up, wrapping her arms around you.

Footsteps echoed from behind the two of you, and you turned to find Jameson holding one of the Winchester rifles. How fitting. Then, you connected the dots. Secret passage way.

“Avery,” Jameson breathed out, falling down beside you. “Are you okay? I’m sorry I scared you.” Similar to Xander earlier that day, he looked more panicked than ever, scooping Avery out of your arms.

“I’m fine,” she said shakily, her breathing still uneven.

“Fine and okay aren’t the same thing, Heiress,” Jameson said, a small, soft, trying-to-be-comforting smile on his face.

Avery took one more deep breath before sitting up, untangling herself from Jameson. “I’m okay. I promise.”

The two sat for a moment, just staring at each other.

“We should probably clean that up,” you commented, loosely referring to the dead turkey a few feet away.

“Yeah,” they sighed together.

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After Oren had come and cleaned the turkey up, you traveled back to you and Grayson’s room, flopping down on the bed next to Grayson and his laptop. You gave a dramatic sigh, finally able to breathe fully.

“What’s that for?” Grayson asked, starting at her collarbone and tracing a finger down your arm into your hand.

“One turkey down,” you began, “six to go.”

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Friday, November 22nd, 2024

Some nights, when even you couldn’t get Grayson to fall asleep, you two resorted to the few other people Grayson felt——not necessarily safe sleeping in a room with——comfortable to sleep in a room with if you were their too. Grayson’s eyes drooped, and you felt so bad. He hadn’t slept much before you had arrived back at Hawthorne House from Harvard, the place where he had betrayed you and left. He didn’t really betray you, just had his own shit to deal with. But, still, it hurt. The dark circles under his eyes were more prominent than ever, shadowing his pale face. You also came to the realization that his heightened irritability—Xander’s first name, the purple turkeys—was due to Grayson’s lack of sleep. Poor thing.

You wrapped one of the millions of blankets Xander had in his pile that he called a bed around Grayson, tucking him in snuggly.

“Good night,” you whispered against his ear, giving his cheek a soft kiss.

Xander was also somewhere in the pile, probably cuddled up with Max or some of his stuffed animals.

“Good night to you too, Xan,” you whisper called, a waving hand appearing somewhere underneath the blankets.

Xander had a strange habit of forgetting to close doors. Anywhere he went. Any time. But he especially did when he went to bed. You always assumed he didn’t have much of a night time routine. Well, until Max came around and forced him into a nightly skincare routine. Or maybe Xander just liked to have that small nightlight, just a little childlike comfort.

Lying behind Grayson, your legs wrapped around his waist, your arm draping over him side under his arm. You tried to sleep, you really did, but with the events from today, you couldn’t help your open eyes. Grayson’s hair twirled around your finger, his light snoring, Xanders not-so light snoring, Max wiggling around in her sleep. Everyone in the house was peaceful, but you just couldn’t focus. And when you tried to sleep, you only thought about not sleeping, keeping you awake even longer.

So quiet. So eerily quiet. Nothing like what you were used to sleeping through in Cambridge. Or, at least, your first year when you were required to live on campus. Since then, and kind of to apologize for leaving, Grayson got you a nice house not too far from campus. It was nice and cozy—2 bed, 3 bath, nice finished basement equipped with a bar!—just what you were looking for. It kind of reminded you of the heaps of blankets you were in right now.

One game you enjoyed playing in Xander’s room was Dig In His Weird Blanket Pile And See What You Find! It was kind of like a blind bag: you never know what you’re going to pull out.

You dug your hand in, feeling around until you found something. It was cold, despite the warmth of the blankets, circular, felt like glass. You wretched our hand out of the pile, holding up a small, glass ball. A Fushigi ball? Hawthornes and their weird talents. You put that one back down, digging around for something else. Your fingers caught in something else, pulling out a crochet hook, a single piece of yarn connecting it to a half finished crochet dog that vaguely resembles Tiramisu.

You continued to dig around, finding new random things, some you didn’t even know existed. When your hand was touching the bottom of this pit, the room got lighter, and lighter. The door was creaking open. But Nash wouldn’t be up, he probably would’ve woken Libby up. And why would Jameson or Avery be coming in here at this hour? That left only one thing.

The fucking turkeys.

You froze, your arm still in the sea of blankets, unable to move. Beside you, Grayson shifted, rubbing his head around, his brows furrowing when we couldn’t find your hand.

“Mm,” he whined, his arm reaching to feel around. Your free arm roughly grasped his wrist, stirring him more. “What are you doing…” he trailed off when he saw the panic on your face, the utter fear. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He sat up fully, grabbing your hands. You looked back up at the ledge of the pit until he followed your gaze. He must have noticed the weird amount of light streaming into the room.

Then the gobble came. And another. Were there multiple? Here? Right now?

Like some sort of sleeper agent—literally—Max launched up from where she was sleeping, bringing Xander’s arm with her. Xander stirred too, rubbing his eyes as he sat up.

“What the fuck was that?” Max whispered, her eyes locked forward as if she wasn’t able to move, that if she did some monster—the turkeys—would come out and attack her.

There was a figure peering over the ledge now, casting a shadow on Max. It’s sickly long neck, that stupid beak, the feathers down the rest of the body. You were only just realizing how terribly inaccurate your hand-turkey drawings had been. It gobbled again, flapping its wings, and jumped down. Max screamed, scrambling out of the pit. You followed, confused and disoriented, the lack of sleep catching up to you. Grayson rushed up after you, his arms going around you.

Xander continued to look around confused. And then he began to, very slowly, climb onto the ledge, wobbling across his room to somewhere by a desk of some sort. “Don’t freak out, you guys. I have something for this.”

Of course he did.

He adjusted the screws or bolts of mechanical things you didn’t understand, paying very close attention to the turkey’s position. He pulled a small lever back, and then let go. It was another one of his weird machines, the ones that take too many steps. The thing ran almost all the way around his room: on the walls, the book ridden ceiling, the floor, even. Only seconds after that lever was released, a ball, in your mind a canon ball, launched from a corner not too far from you, hitting the turkey square in the head.

That drew a gasp from you, Max, and Grayson, all still standing huddled in a corner.

“There,” Xander said, grogginess roughening his voice, “are you better now?”

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You and Grayson laid on the floor of Nash and Libby’s room, Max curled up next to you. The door was locked securely, making sure to pose no danger to the sleeping people inside.

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Saturday, November 23rd, 2024

When your eyes finally opened, they met Nash’s, Grayson standing beside him.

“Mornin’,” he said, patting your shoulder. The surface under you was comfortable, squishy, compared to the floor you, Grayson, and Max had chosen to sleep on last night.

When you finally collected your mind, you focused on where you were, what you knew about the turkeys now. I’m in Libby and Nash’s bed, I think, and two turkeys have been taken down. That leaves only five more, that could be done in a day, right?

“Are you feeling any better?” Grayson asked, his voice soft and quiet.

You completely ignored the question. “Where is Xander?”

A small smile pulled at Grayson’s lips, warming your heart. Your face also heated up thinking about the fact you most likely looked like you crawled out of a dumpster five seconds ago.

“Xan slept in his own room. He’s okay, too,” Grayson assured, running a hand through your hair, getting caught in the knots near the bottom.

“Mm,” you hummed in recognition. You stuffed your face back into one of the pillows, trying to drift off again. Grayson’s hand ran down your back, stopping just above your hips and tracing back up.

It was nice, having him there with you, something to keep you steady in the midst of all these turkey troubles. Your mind drifted off, dreaming of pool what and hot summer days, cameras and candid polaroid pictures, Grayson’s violin and your piano matching in just the right places.

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The next time you woke up, the room was more familiar the things you had dreamed of: playful strings of photos on the wall, his violins hanging with them. It was nice to have that feeling of home in at least one place here.

It was so quiet. Quieter than you had ever heard it. Even in the dead of night you could here Jameson and Avery scurrying around, Grayson taking a swim, Xander working up late on his next project, the steady strum of Nash’s guitar, used to put the babies to bed. Everyone had probably locked themself up in their room, including you. But then where was Grayson?

Deciding it was time for your next quest, you got up, wobbling over to the closet, and then the bathroom, finally getting ready for the day. You didn’t feel like doing much today; just a simple sweater, jeans, and a pair of fluffy socks you pulled out of some looks of clothes you were hiding from Grayson.

After leaving the bathroom, you opened the door to the balcony, the cold air washing over your body. You peered over the railing, the pool water still leaving no sign that Grayson had been there. Strange. Guess the next stop was the music room.

The hallways were especially empty today. Not even a cleaner or security walking around. That’s why the hallways were so quiet. It was eerie walking through the halls, the ceiling too tall now, the walls too close, the hall too long, a shiver creeping up your spine. Your steps quicken, trying to looking for any signs of Grayson. But it was like he just disappeared, gone.

Standing outside of the empty music room, you felt weak, tired too, your lack of sleep finally catching up to you. Then, your ears caught the beginning of a note, followed by another, and another, each played flawlessly, tuned perfectly. Maybe the music room wasn’t so empty. But piano wasn’t exactly Grayson’s forte. Your head peeked in, catching a glimpse of a figure at one of the pianos. A cane leaned up against the bench gave away who it could be. The sound of your steps light, you entered the room, trying not to disturb Nan as she listened to the piano.

“I know you’re there,” she said, her voice as gruff as usual. “You ain’t sneaky.”

Now caught, with no escape, you walk over to the piano, standing on the other end of the bench.

“Sorry to disturb you,” you said. Nan looked over to you, and you were just now realizing where Nash had gotten his many faces from. “Mind if I sit here? I won’t make a peep,” you promised.

“Fine,” she huffed.

You took a seat beside her, gentle to not knock over her cane of the other side. Sitting silently, you watched as the piano keys pressed themselves down, the music following with them.

“You play?” she asked, breaking the silence between the two of you.

You nodded slowly. “Sorta. I’m rusty though,” you admitted. You placed your hands gently on the piano keys, thinking up a song to play. Her fingers pressed down the key, moving in a familiar rhythm. The occasional press of the wrong key would stop you, making the song choppy. But you couldn’t help to think that those mistakes, the things that might slow you down, just added character.

Nan swayed to the music beside you, matching the rhythm. She seemed to recognize the song, know how to play it, pressing down a key or two on her side when it might have seemed too far from you. It was nice to have this moment. Most of the time, and what had been described of her, Nan wasn’t gentle, she was gruff, she was snorted laughs, she was bored huffs. Or maybe, just maybe, Nan was just Nan.

“You’re good,” her voice seemed softer now, calm “Y’know that, right?”

You nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Her finger rested against one of the lower octave note, playing a simple pattern, switching between notes. Her head turned the slightest bit toward you, you could feel it.

“C’mere more often. I can get you to learn some of my favorite songs,” she said. A smile grew on your face, returned with a not so happy look. “Don’t make that face. You’re starting to look like Xander.”

Pad-pad-pad

The hell?

Pad-pad-pad

You leaned over, trying to see on Nan’s side, find where the padding feet were coming from. Riding up next to the two of you, an animal came in, bobbing its head as it walked. The turkey.

“How are you in here?” Nan said at the turkey, and the way she said it made it seem like she actually expected an answer from it.

Gobble

She stared at the turkey, like the stare-down Avery had had with the first turkey. Her hand reached over for the precariously balanced cane.

Poke

“Get.”

Blank stare.

Poke

“Get.”

Blank stare.

“You’re really going to make me up, aren’t you, bastard,” she huffed, standing up and using the piano as leverage.

Her cane swung aimlessly in the air, only hitting the turkey a few times. “Scram!” she shouted at it, watching as it scurried away in her presence.

Bonk

The turkey slammed right into the wall.

Thud

Another loud sound as the turkey hit the ground.

Similar to Nan, you just stared at it, motionless.

“One more turkey down,” you grumbled.

⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆

Sunday, November 24th, 2024

Waddling into the kitchen, you jumped up to sit on the counter beside Libby’s chocolate cupcakes.

“Libbbyyy,” you said.

“Yeeeeesss,” she dragged as she carefully frosted a cupcake.

You put on your best puppy eyes, looking at her like a little kid. “Can you make me something for lunch?”

“You’re twenty-two,” someone drawled from behind you. “You don’t need Lib to make you lunch.”

You flicked your hand at Nash, not even turning around to look at him. “Shoo.”

“Excuse me?” Nash said, his voice now right behind you.

Nash walked around the counter, a baby balancing on his hip, taking a ball of cookie dough off of a baking sheet nearby and popping it in his mouth. “I think,” he said around the cookie dough, “you should make your own lunch and let Lib breathe.”

“Thank you, Nash, but I think I can take care of myself.”

The baby was placed on the counter next to you, looking up and smiling at you.

“Hi, there, baby,” you squealed, picking her up and placing her on your lap, moving her arms around to fake punch or lifting them up and down, making her dance. She giggles and squeals, looking around, until her face dropped, looking at the entrance to the kitchen. Following her gaze, your eyes landed on another one of those stupid turkeys.

“Another one?” you whispered, drawing the attention of Nash and Libby.

“Another what-“

The room froze, everyone’s eyes on the turkey. Everything in the room was still, just staring. Until the turkey screamed its battle cry.

“What the hell,” Nash muttered, watching as the turkey ran in circles around the kitchen.

Libby jumped onto the counter watching as the turkey made a b-line toward her. She screeched, grabbing that pan of cookie dough and throwing it, hitting the turkey right on the head. Her hands flew to her mouth, covering it in shock.

“I just killed that turkey,” she mumbled. “I just killed that fucking turkey,” she repeated, her eyes wide.

Across the room, Nash stood staring at Libby. “Good job, Lib,” he said proudly.

“Usually, the turkey in the kitchen is dead,” Jameson said, entering the kitchen. Avery soon followed behind, probably startled by all the commotion.

“Libby, what’s wrong? What was that bang? And most of all, why are you on the counter?” She gave no time to answer any of the questions.

Libby’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, trying to form words.

“Are those turkey cupcakes?” Avery asked, looking to the tray of cupcakes beside Libby.

“I was stress baking!”

⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆

Monday, November 25th, 2024

It was quiet again, the hallways. They weren’t empty this time, though, just quiet. Sitting on one of the many benches placed around Hawthorne House, you were reading a book, still too distracted by the turkeys which defeated the purpose of reading. Or what reading was supposed to be doing right now. Your book just wasn’t interesting enough. It couldn’t grab your attention like so many others had before. You thought it could be an escape, but it failed, miserably. Every sound, the rustle of a tree, the audible explosion of one of Xander’s creations, the faint shriek of Grayson’s violin, it all made you jump. When was the next time you’d be accosted by a turkey?

Bark, bark, bark

“Tiramisu!” Xander screeched as he ran after Tiramisu, both of them moving directly toward you.

Tiramisu jumped on the bench beside you, sticking his nose in your nose and then licking all over your face, sending you into a fit of giggles.

“Xander!” you said, choppy through your laughter. “Help me!”

Once Xander had gotten to the bench, he opened his arm, scooping up Tiramisu. “I told you to stay by me, missy,” he said, “I said you had to be the Oren to my Avery!”

“You’re using Tiara as your bodyguard?” you laughed in disbelief, the concept of Tiramisu, so tiny next to Xander, being his bodyguard was comical.

Xander head nodded proudly, placing Tiramisu back on the ground. He flopped onto the bench, blowing out an exaggerated sigh. “It’s like this dog doesn’t even know English.”

You snorted. “Xander, you’re not gonna believe what I’m about to tell you…”

A smile grew on his face, looking over at you. “Aren’t you ecstatic to have Katrina here? I know you love her so much.” One of his long, skinny fingers approached you, poking your cheek.

Rolling your eyes, you huffed. “I don’t know. At least Gigi will be there.”

“Yeah, that’s good,” said Xander. Tiramisu jumped up on the bench, lying on her back and spreading across your and Xander’s laps, all smiling and panting. Your hand instinctively went to his belly, petting him.

Suddenly, a thought came to your mind. “Who takes Tiramisu on walks?”

Xander stared blanking at the cleanly lined trees across the path, his smile fading. “That’s a very good question.” He cocked his head, genuinely lost in thought.

“Oh, my gosh. I don’t know who walks Tiramisu,” he admitted. “I don’t even know if she gets walked.”

The two of you sat, contemplating Tiramisu’s daily schedule, trying to find any space where a walk could fit it.

“She has her morning bath at 8, then she has breakfast at 9:30, every other week at 10:30 she has her manicure,” Xander said. “12:00 she has lunch and then goes to play.”

“Maybe that’s when she gets walked?”

“But that’s play time, not walking. At 12:45, she’s tired and takes her afternoon nap in Libby and Nash’s room, and joins Nash for a doggy guitar lesson and then a doggy piano lesson at 2:00 and 2:30.”

“How does she even play guitar or piano? It’s not like she has fingers,” you asked, thinking of all the possible, stupid, ways that Xander could have come up with.

Xander shot up, intrigued by the opportunity to share his creation. “Okay, so it’s one really big piano, like, each key is a foot wide, and it’s like those ones that you can step on to play it and it’s really fun.”

“What about the guitar?”

“That’s one isn’t really her playing, she just kind of paws at the strings and Nash’s hand…”

“Oh.”

More silence. Tiramisu panting. You pull your phone out, checking the time. 12:19 Perfect timing.

“Perfect timing,” you voiced. “It’s play time.”

Tiramisu shot up, jumping off of your laps and spinning in circles, waiting for you and Xander to play with her.

“Should we play with the long sword today?” Xander joked, standing up and aggressively rubbing Tiramisu’s back.

“For sure,” you said sarcastically, getting up from your own position, closing your book not caring about where you were.

Tiramisu trotted next to you as the group of you walked to one of the many expensive fields scattered around the Hawthorne property. There was actually an area dedicated to Tiramisu, a bucket of toys and beaten up sticks near the entrance to the fenced off land.

He fake threw it a few times, finally letting it go and watching Tiramisu launch after it, a bolt of brown, curly fur.

“We really need to find a time to get her walked,” you sighed.

“Or just ask Nash if she goes on walks.” Xander shrugged slightly, taking the returned stick and catapulting it again. You were surprised that Xander didn’t have a machine for this yet, but you guessed he just really wanted to spend some time with Tiara.

“Christmas is also coming up, maybe we’ll do something fun again like the other year,” reminded Xander.

You rolled your eyes at the thought of having to do Hawthorne Secret Santa That’s Not At All Secret Santa. “Crazy how me and Tiramisu got each other. She couldn’t even get me a present!”

“She did get you a present,” Xander pouted.

Shooting a glare at him, you crossed your arms. “I proper present. Not a pigeon he found on the driveway.”

A minute passed and Tiramisu still hadn’t returned. She couldn’t have gone far, but surely it had been far enough for you to not see her at all.

Another minute.

Tick, tock

Another minute.

What’s taking so long?

“Tiara?” You called, your voice echoing through the wind. “Tiara? Tiramisu!”

Nothing but trees rustling.

“Tiramisu Panini Hawthorne!” Xander shouted, starting to walk in the direction Tiramisu had last ran to. “Where are you?”

Trudging up the hilly part of Tiramisu’s play area, you peeked to the fall of the hill, two figures running around at the lowest point. You could easily recognize Tiramisu being one of them.

“Tiramisu!” you repeated, running down the hill. Watching as the hyper dog ran around after something, she finally caught up, pouncing on it.

“What is that?” Xander muttered, following you down the hill.

Approaching the writhing animal and Tiramisu, you recognized the long neck, the feathered body, the distorted squabble.

She got another turkey!

You scrambled over to her, rubbing and petting her. “Good girl, Tiara!”

“Yay!!” Xander whooped from behind you, pumping his fists in the air and jumping up and down. “Tiramisu’s a hero!” he chanted.

“Tiramisu’s a hero!” you joined in, jumping around as Tiramisu ran in circles around you.

Two turkeys left. Which, based on this pattern, two more days.

⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆

Tuesday, November 26th, 2024

Gigi’s arrival was scheduled for today. And Katrina. Ugh.

Avery was always the one to greet people at the door, as she owned Hawthorne House and didn’t want anyone doing anything for her. With the events of the last five days, Avery had to, reluctantly, bring a whole new group of bodyguards to the door.

You decided to join them, thinking that it would save you from the turkeys that seemed weirdly attracted to you. Your meet up spot was far from the entrance—in some random meeting room one the third floor of Hawthorne House. Maybe turkeys couldn’t climb stairs? It’s only other method of getting to the third floor would be elevator which wouldn’t work very well for them.

“So, Avery,” you said, sidling up into the beside Avery, “how do you think Thanksgiving is going to go this year? Seems pretty eventful already.”

“Not good.” Her head was balanced in her hands, elbows in the table. “Everything has gone to shit because of those stupid turkeys.”

Reassuringly patting her back, you leaned back in your chair. “I think it’ll be fine. Thanksgiving—scratch that, any holiday—here is always a little eventful. Like secret santa the other year.”

“Oh, my god, that was hilarious. Libby got out so fast,” she let out in a laugh.

“Oh! Not really a holiday, but from what I’ve heard of Nash’s bachelor party,” you said. “You know what?” Avery hummed. “I should get Grayson a pair of fresh leather pants for Christmas this year.”

Avery let out a strained giggle, trying to hold it in, before she exploded, throwing her head back and leaning in her chair, almost tipping it over.

“Ms. Grambs,” one of the new bodyguards said, his voice commanding. Your laughter quickly subsided, leaving you and Avery silent. “Ms. Grayson will be here soon. I recommend starting to walk to the entrance in order to get here before she does.”

Avery nodded, standing up from her chair, stretching, and walking over to Oren. You followed her like a lost puppy, standing awkwardly on the side as she tells Oren what the other bodyguard had just said to her.

“Shall we get going?” she offers.

“We shall,” Oren replies flatly.

With what seemed like an entire army of bodyguards behind you, Avery, and Oren, you started your journey, through the windy halls and passageways.

Truly, you were excited to have Gigi over, thrilled, but it was that cat. Katrina. Katrina Katrina. Now, she wouldn’t do anything to you—couldn’t do anything. It was just that hunger way she looked at you, her eyes forming into slits as she glared at you from perched beside Gigi.

“I can just tell you’re thrilled to have Katrina over,” Avery said, practically reading your mind.

“Me and Grayson already had this conversation,” you huffed, shaking your head at the ground.

Avery just laughed, following your gaze to the ground. “It just,” she paused. “Katrina isn’t even scary.”

“It’s not that!” you burst. “It’s not that she herself is scary, it’s just that way she looks at me like I’m her next meal. Like I’m one of the turkeys!”

Avery seemed very amused by your argument, just smirking that smile that told you she had spent one too many hours with Jameson.

“Maybe you are her next meal,” Avery teased, poking your ribs.

“You’d just let me get scarfed down by that cat?” you scoffed. “Wow. What a fake friend.” You crossed your arms, dramatically turning away from Avery and picking up your speed.

Avery just skipped after you, jumping on your back and holding your sleeve to keep you close by. “I was just kidding, jeez,” she laughed, watching as a smile broke out on your face. “See! You aren’t even mad at me!”

You joined her giggling, knocking into each other as you walked through the halls, laughing over stupid stuff that probably wasn’t even funny.

“Oh, my god!” Avery jumped up. “There’s something I have to tell you about! Okay, let’s set the scene, I’m in my room, it’s an unusually quiet night. Jameson isn’t back yet and his curfew, set by me because we had an event early the next morning, was way behind us. Hours behind.”

“Damn. Grayson would never. Could,” you corrected.

“I know! I’m getting tired, it’s like twelve and I’m just planning on going to bed by myself, cold and lonely,” she continued.

You wrapped your arm around her shoulder, pulling you in. “You could have just cuddled with me,” you said with a wink.

“Aww,” she shimmed her shoulders against you. “Okay, back to my story! The lights are off, I’m almost asleep, until the door finally creaks over, Jameson standing in the doorframe. To be funny, I pretended to sleep, waiting for him to shake me awake or something. But all that happens is that Jameson crawls into bed next to me— Oh! I forgot to mention he was drunk. Yeah, so, he crawls up next to me and just whispers in my ear,” she lowered her voice into a whisper, “‘I have a secret…’”

You recognized that, something Avery had mentioned one time when she was talking about her mom. “Doesn’t that have something to do with your mom..?” you guessed, shrinking away in case you were wrong.

“Yes! At this point, I’m intrigued, waiting for Jameson to whisper whatever this secret was into my ear. And what he said is un-fucking-believable. He says: ‘When me and Nash and Grayson and Xander were younger, we tried starting a band, and we uploaded a bunch of videos to YouTube—it was a private account—but someone hacked in and made it public. So, somewhere on the internet, you can find video of all of us dressed up real funny and singing a bunch of shitty songs.’”

Your mouth drops open, trying to picture a younger Grayson on some makeshift stage at Hawthorne House, performing some pop or rock song.

Avery just laughs and smiles at your shocked expression. “That’s exactly how I felt on the inside,” she giggled, clearing her throat to continue her story. Again. “Like any sane person, of course I go in my computer the next day, and search up their little band. It wasn’t difficult, even if I didn’t have a name, and lord was it funny. Jameson on electric guitar, Nash playing some regular guitar, Xander on drums, and Grayson for vocals.”

“You’re kidding!”

“I’m not!”

“She isn’t!” a new voice pops in. In front of you stood Gigi, Hello Kitty suitcase almost exploding, mostly like being packed with cat toys. Katrina was sitting next to her, way too professional for a cat.

“So?” Gigi lifts her eyebrows. “What is she not kidding about?”

You and Avery grinned at each other, slowly turning to Gigi. “Your brother and his brothers’ attempt at a boy band,” you both said.

Gigi gasped dramatically, a smile stretching across her face. “You’re kidding!”

“She’s not!”

“I’m not!”

Not too far, as you’d expect, was Oren, the smallest hint of a smile in his face. He noticed you staring, gesturing a nod toward Avery. “She isn’t lying. I was there.”

Through the commotion of laughter and conversation, it would’ve been hard to hear anyone, anything if something went wrong. Or if you had a visitor.

“Ow!” Gigi winced, placing a hand on her hip and rubbing it. “What was that?” She jumped again. “Ow! What the…” She looked down to her left, finding the perpetrator.

“A turkey?” she asked, her voice a mix of shocked confusion and fear. And then full fledged fear as she realized that there was a turkey trying to get her. “It’s a turkey!” she squeaked, running over and trying to climb Oren like a jungle gym.

Noticing her alert, he gets right in to bodyguard mode, looking around for the threat. He landed on the turkey, reaching somewhere on his hip.

“You two, move back. Now,” he ordered, not wasting a second once we had. Just like the first turkey taken down, a loud bang rang out, the turkey thudding on the floor after.

A new commotion broke out after the shot was fired, filling the foyer with a sound too loud for you. Quiet was something you were used to now. It wasn’t too nothing, it just was. But this, it broke all of that quiet.

⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆

Wednesday, November 27th, 2024

There was one last turkey. One final turkey before this was all over. Like you had the day the turkey war began, everyone was gathered in one of the dining room to eat lunch, but instead, it was a meeting.

“Okay, everyone!” Avery commanded from the head of the table, standing up from her chair. “I have brought you here today to discuss our game plan to take down the final torturous turkey. I have devised a role for each of you.”

A list appeared on a screen that seemed invisible until now.

Avery and Y/N: Gamemasters [;)] - Will create solutions and test products alongside our Builders.

Libby and Nash: Healers (Lots of baked goods…) - Helps in case of emergencies.

Jameson and Gigi: Fuel - Food, drinks, whatever. Most likely working beside our Healers.

Grayson and Oren: Logistics (of sorts) - Thinks about how our plan may actually work, what might go wrong, and how to fix it.

Xander and Max: Builders (you’ve got this, Max!) - Builds our solution if needed, tests it too.

Oren’s Men: Capturers - searches for the turkey and relays messages to Oren.

Tiramisu & Katrina: Our Last Resort Weapons - If all else fails, we have them to use.

“Working in these teams will help our plan work better. Each of us being alone may cause too much stress or tension. Having multiple people on a job will also move things alone faster,” Avery states. “Lots of these roles will work with other roles, example, Gamesmakers will often work with the Logicians and Builders. Because of our collaboration, we’ll need a method of communication. Phones may be laggy and are very reliant on battery, which some of us don’t value.” Avery shot a glare at Jameson. “So, each of you will be given a walkie-talkie.” She looked to Oren, motioning for a box on the floor ten feet from the table. He lifted the box, walking around the table and distributing one to each member.

“Now, shall we spread out? Our Healers: Libby, Nash, and our Fuel: Jameson, and Gigi in the kitchen. The Gamemakers, Logistics, and Builders follow me. Capturers spread out and look for the turkey. Our final weapons will also be with our healers and fuel. Go!”

⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆

Nothing was working. Each plan failed by just a little bit, and when you tried fixing it, it failed again. Everyone was tired. Sitting there for three hours trying to think of something, trying it , and failing. No matter how much food and drinks you were given, that adrenaline from before was starting to fade. We also haven’t got any word on where the turkey could be.

You lay on the floor, head resting on Grayson’s chest, his hand running through your hair, down your back, and back up.

“We can’t give up,” Avery said, sitting up from her defeated starfish on the floor.

“But there’s only one more option left,” you groaned.

“Katrina and Tiramisu.”

⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆

“Oren,” a distorted voice came from his walkie-talkie, “we’ve got’em. In Alexander’s Wing. He was standing out front of Alexander’s room, almost got in. Couldn’t find him for a while; place’s a mess.”

From across the room, you watched an exaggerated frown form in Xander’s face.

“Time to move out,” Oren ordered, leading the way.

⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆

Luckily for you, every hallway of Xander’s wing was filled to the brim with weird trinkets and big machine pieces. Hidden behind a long table which was most likely used to hold fancy decorations at one point, everyone crouched, covered by the new less fancy things piled on the table.

“Xander, you’ve really got to clean up your mess,” Nash said, that mother hen coming out of him.

Xander waved a dismissive hand in his face. “It’s fine.”

“I’ll make Grayson do it then.” Xander’s worst fear: someone possibly messing up his perfectly messy set up with their perfectly clean organization skills. Which Grayson excelled at.

Xander’s head turned slowly toward Nash, his eyes narrowed. “You. Wouldn’t. Dare.” He punctuated every word, but it was difficult to take Xander seriously sometimes.

“You know damn well I would dare,” Nash chuckled, meeting Xander’s eyes, steady and even, not even a hint of intimidation.

“Enough with the bickering,” Avery demanded. “Do you guys remember the plan?”

Avery’s head spun around, looking at everyone, landing on Libby and Max frantically shaking their heads. With a sigh, Avery explained the plan. Again. “We send you in as bait,” Avery pointed to you, “and wait for the turkey. Once it tried to attack, we jump out and attack it. If nothing else works, we send out Tiramisu and Katrina. Now do you got it?”

The silent agreement was enough for Avery, sending you out to take your place across from the turkey. You felt like Avery or Nan, staring down the turkey, waiting for any movement from it. The tension built, heart racing under the gaze of everyone, everything. This probably looked so stupid: you, standing in front of a turkey, practically have a staring contest, while everyone else was scattered around the room hidden behind piles of shit Xander needed to clean up.

You knew that even if the turkey did attack you, which was what this plan relied on, you’d be safe. Each person was equipped with a weapon of their choice. Gigi was keeping Katrina back, Oren had his gun, Avery held her knife, steady in her fingers. Jameson had a finished bottle of wine, Xander held Tiramisu back, Max had been nervously gripping her wrench before, Libby had a baking sheet, Nash had a whole goddamn guitar, and, lastly, Grayson firmly held one of the long swords. None of these people would let you get hurt, even if it was by accident every single one of them would feel bad, like it was their fault.

But now, standing in front of the turkey, you have to put all that behind. Face this stupid thing head on.

It finally made a sound, a distorted gobble. You braced for impact at the sound of a squeal coming from somewhere in the room, but it never came. When your eyes opened, a streak of light brown blew past you. Was it the turkey? It was only until that same distorted squabble cried out that you realized that either Katrina or Tiramisu. Based on the fact that Katrina would probably enjoy seeing you being eaten by a turkey, you expected to find Tiramisu wherever the flash had gone to. On one side of the room, the opposite side, you heard a whine. So it wasn’t Tiramisu.

The sound of something being dragged across the floor drew your attention back to the other side of the room. Katrina moved slowly toward you, dragging the turkey in mouth toward you. She dragged it to your feet, stopping, sitting very professionally, looking up at you and flashing one of those strange smiles that cats can pull off. She nudged the turkey with her nose, sitting back up a pawing at it.

“Katrina!” Gigi shouted, her voice a mix of anger and admiration. “What was that? You weren’t supposed to go until I told you to!” she scolded, picking Katrina up.

Katrina looked up at her with those innocent eyes, nuzzling in Gigi’s neck. Gigi huffed out a sigh, giving up on trying to lecture Katrina into listening.

“Well,” Avery said, her voice holding a confusing emotion, “that was the final turkey. It’s over.”

The room broke out into a cheer, even Oren was smiling, but the only one standing still, in the middle of it all was Avery. Weaving through everyone, you walked up to Avery, taking one of her hands.

“You okay?” you asked, trying to catch her gaze.

She shrugged. “Sure.”

You gave her that look that Nash always gave you (you were still trying to master it), cocking a brow at her (another thing you’d learned!). “What’s wrong? You sad there’s no game anymore?”

Avery stayed quiet, swaying with you when you wrapped your arms around her. “I guess,” she said shamefully.

“I swear you’re starting to sound more and more like Jameson every day,” you teased, poking her in the ribs this time. “Now, come on, turn that frown—“you flashed a smile”—upside down.”

Taking both of her hands, you forced her to dance with everyone else, swaying around the room until she finally gave in.

⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆

Thursday, November 28th, 2024

There was a singular turkey on the large table, making it look small. Everything else was normal, and you knew damn well that with a snap of her finger Avery could have a thousand more turkey and make this year’s turkey amount normal. But she didn’t. And it felt like home. Watching everyone argue over how much turkey everyone would get, fighting over the last pieces.

Your hand searched around under the table, meeting Grayson’s and wrapping your fingers around his, leaning your head against his shoulder. A smile, unknowing smile grew on your face, watching everything, so perfect.

Maybe now you would try a little harder to make this place feel like home.

a/n: WOOOOOOOOO!!!! this took, like, over a week to write it’s actually insane. and the end still seems sort of rushed 😣😣 but i’m gonna leave it and maybe come back to it later. because of the rush, i don’t care if there’s any mistakes, this isn’t proofread……..

[foone]

one thing I like about Outer Wilds: Echoes of the Eye is how it relates to (some) player's perception of the main game's ending. (spoilers)

So the ending of the main game is about the end of all things. You can't stop the end coming, but you can help make what comes next. It's about accepting that the end is inevitable, and that fighting against that end is pointless. The player goes through the whole game hoping they'll find a way to save Timber Hearth, to save themselves and all their friends, and slowly realizes that it's not possible. The end cannot be stopped: I'm sorry, but the universe is winding down. All that's left is to let the next world grow from the ashes of this one.

Naturally, not everyone was happy with that concept. They wanted some way to save the world, to have a "good ending", to not have to deal with the sadness of the ending. They were upset with the game.

And then Echoes of the Eye comes along, and maybe some of those gamers thought this was like the DLCs for Mass Effect 3 and Fallout 3: Maybe this'll retcon the ending, and let us finally win, and let the Hearthians live?

And then... nope. The DLC is about a race who came to the solar system and the eye told them "THE UNIVERSE IS ABOUT TO DIE: LET'S CLOSE IT DOWN AND BUILD A NEW ONE!". And they were terrified and pissed. They shut off the message the eye was sending, they tried their best to forget that that was ever the situation they were in. They retreated into a fantasy world, ignoring the world burning around them. They nearly destroyed the multiverse by preventing the next big bang, because they didn't want their story to end.

It's only because of The Prisoner and The Hatchling's combined efforts that the Nomai came searching for The Eye, and The Hatchling was able to enter The Eye, and restart the universe.

The inhabitants of The Stranger had buried their heads in the sand up until the end of the universe, trying to ignore the reality of the coming end. The game makes it clear how foolish they were, and how close they came to destroying everything in their futile attempt to save themselves.

The DLC feels like it's in dialogue with those players who hated the main game's ending, and how there was no way to stop it. The DLC shows them a bunch of monsters in the dark, terrified of the first new thing to happen in 300,000 years, about to die as their spaceship falls apart under the strain as it attempts to avoid the supernova. They could have been the ones to usher in the new world, in their image. Instead they hid, and pretended nothing was happening. One of them tried to right this wrong by letting their story come to its natural conclusion, and they trapped that individual in a casket at the bottom of a lake, immortal but trapped in solitary confinement. They were just that scared of the story ending.

You meet The Prisoner and tell them of all that happened since their confinement. You tell them that their actions are the only reason you're there, why the Nomai came and tried to find The Eye, why you will be able to find The Eye. You bring that memory of The Prisoner into The Eye, and even as a memory they must apologize for their whole race, no matter how this turned out in the end. You reassure them that they did the right thing, and you step together into a new dawn.

The story of the DLC just feels like they had those who didn't like the main game's ending in mind when it was written.

[peterparkersnose]

Needy

Part 2 to Give In

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

word count: 3.4k

warnings: smut (f receiving oral), broken leg, pain, depression, anxiety, longing, needy joel, reunion of sorts, cringe nickname from maria, malnutrition, descriptions of not eating and weight loss and physical changes due to that, brief grief

a/n hi i wrote smut. god help me, i hated writing it. i hope you guys like it, i tried to make it somewhat good. this takes place after the first game, or when the series ends. spoilers definitely. the middle where you don’t see ellie and joel for the four years there just living in jackson, right when joel comes back from saving ellie.

summary Y/N gets invited to Jackson by her Aunt Maria

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read time: 12 mins 25 seconds

After a few days you realized Joel wasn’t coming back. The sad realization sink in and really took its toll on you. FEDRA officers came to make sure you weren’t dead in your apartment, and with that made you go back to work.

Same day, over and over again once again. Take care of the babies in the QZ. Watch people get hung in the square. Eat the same, boring, disgusting meal FEDRA gave to you. Live in the empty memories that lingered all over town.

Tess was gone too. You figured they were both dead in a ditch or moved on to something better and bigger than this damn QZ. Part of you wondered if Joel just wanted an out; if he was sick of having you as a responsibility and left because of you. And it ate you alive.

It had been a month. You were still trying to reach your Aunt over the radio, just as Joel had been trying to reach his brother. It’s something the two of you bonded over the last few weeks he was here. Your Aunt Maria was located somewhere out west. You weren’t really sure where, but you knew she was still alive. You felt her spark. Ever since your mom and your uncle died when you were small, she had watched you until she was promised a ‘better life’ somewhere in… Wyoming? Montana? Idaho? You weren’t sure. She left you in the QZ because she thought it would be better for your safety. You were a preteen at the time, and for what it was worth it was probably a better idea than to track across country.

Sitting, scrolling through channels you hopelessly looked for Maria’s signal. She always used the lower frequencies, usually this specific one you were listening to. Just as you were about to click the machine off, you heard it.

“Lovebug?”

You gasped and cheered. Lovebug is what she called you when you were younger, a nickname of sorts.

“Auntie?” you called back, hoping this wasn’t one of your delusions seeping back in. “I’m here!” she called. You could hear a group of people cheering in the back.

She gave you a quick set of coordinates and cut off communication. It was brief and that hurt, but life finally had its purpose back. No more Joel, no more overthinking, no more hurting from how he left you.

-

You basically crawled towards the gate of Jackson. Unsure if this was even the right place, you hoped your topography skills were as good as you thought they were. From stealing four cars, foraging for gas (which there was barely any of) and walking over three thousand miles, you prayed this place was anything close to heaven. You had avoided getting bitten or scratched, but killing countless infected on the way. At least you would get to see your Aunt one last time.

The people had their guns pointed at you as you expected. “P-please.” you pleaded with your hands up. You were sure to be almost unrecognizable. Hair was greasy and matted, you had lost a significant amount of weight, and your clothes were tattered. Even in the apocalypse you liked to stay neat, but at this point in your journey you had stopped caring.

“Maria—she’s my a-aunt.”

“I’m going to need Maria at the east gate along with a medic. Stat.” a person called through the radio. The doors opened slightly.

“Y/N?” you heard your Aunt cry. You raised your head enough to see her run towards you. She held you in her arms and cried. The medics were weary behind her, letting this sweet family reunion continue.

You hugged her and tried to hold on to her shoulders the best you could. There was something different. Blinking a few times to get the icicles out of your eyelashes that had formed you realized she was pregnant.

“Y-your pregnant?” you asked. She shook her head and smiled. “I have a lot to explain. I’ll come with you to med.”

They had a makeshift stretcher with a thick piece of fabric held together by two refined pieces of wood. A blanket was placed over you as they carried you across this town. From what you could see, you were in heaven. Dead, no longer here. This whole thing was a mirage.

“It’s real, I promise you honey.” Maria assured you. “H-how?”

“I can explain once your stable. You’ve been out in the cold for too long.”

You closed your eyes, praying it wasn’t for the last time.

Awake. Is what you were. You weren’t sure where, or how, but you were awake. It was dark outside. The little log cabin you were in had a curtain hanging to divide you from other stations and medical supplies. You tried to move.

Your leg was stiff. A large groan escaped from you as you tried to move it.

“No,” you heard from your side. A man sat there. He had dark hair that was longer than the usual cut. His thick black mustache sat upon his lip. He had a tanned skin tone and from what you heard, a thick southern accent that reminded you of Joel. What was a southerner doing so far North?

“Try not to move it. You got a small fracture. Nothing serious, but you will be in the boot for a few weeks.”

His eyes darted to the medical walking boot that sat against the wall. “Who are you? Where is Maria?”

He chuckled at your enthusiasm. “I’m Tommy, Maria’s husband.”

It started to click. “Oh,”

Didn’t Joel mention his brothers name was Tommy? Or was it Timmy. You couldn’t remember. A southerner out west, you doubted it was the brother Joel was looking for. God, why are you still thinking about him? Even now, after you nearly died crossing the country? Sneaking out of the QZ? You were ashamed that your first thought after a brush with death was Joel Miller.

“I let her get some rest, she was here all day. It’s a lot of stress you know…”

Tommy was baiting to see if you knew. “For the baby.” you confirmed.

He shook his head. “Crazy, isn’t it?” he said.

Tommy explained Jackson. How it was functional, safe, and everyone was happy. Maria was right, this was heaven. He explained that there wasn’t any availability in Jackson at the moment, but Maria insisted of inviting you after she found out she was pregnant. Tommy explained something about jealousy and families, but it didn’t make sense to you. Apparently he had just gotten some family back, and Maria wanted hers back too. Since there was no availability, you were going to be staying with a girl in her house. Her name was Ellie. She was quite a few years younger than you, but Maria thought your personalities would get along well. You trusted your Aunt’s judgement, but was concerned when you found out you were to be living with a fifteen year old.

“Get some shut eye. I can help you move in tomorrow. It’s gon’ be difficult on that boot.”

-

It was early morning and Tommy was walking back to his house. Jackson was almost silent, besides for the early birds chirping in the trees and the sounds of the chefs getting ready for breakfast in the nearby mess hall. He stopped in front of Joel’s house and sighed. The large, two story garage behind the house is where Ellie lived, and where you would be staying until they could build you a house. But building a house took time and resources. He prayed that you and Ellie got along. It was either living with Ellie or Joel—Ellie definitely seemed like the safe choice in that situation. Joel wasn’t too friendly to strangers.

Slowly, he entered his own home. Maria was asleep on the couch, cradling her stomach. Tommy watched his beautiful wife for a moment, watching her chest rise and fall. She seemed so peaceful in that moment. Maria was due in a few weeks, and Tommy knew he wouldn’t have the luxury of this for much longer.

“Maria,” he whispered, stroking his hand over her hair and gently waking her up. She jolted awake, like most people did in this world, and was at ease when she found out it was just Tommy.

She put her coat on and grabbed the one she had gotten for you and followed her husband to the medic ward.

“Good morning,” Maria announced, dropping the coat on your stomach. This woke you. Groggily, you looked up at your Aunt with a displeased face. Tommy reached for the boot in the corner. You slowly moved your legs off the bed, groaning in pain. “Are you sure you don’t have anything for the pain?” you gasped. “Not for pain like this, I’m sorry.” Maria assured you. Tommy slowly guided your leg in to the medical boot and tightly strapped it close.

All night you had prepared for the depression that was going to follow with this damned boot. Not being able to move around, depending on others. It hurt too much to start to care about someone else, let alone have them take care of you. You hated to admit it, but this town could be gone within the span of a day.

“Now, you won’t need crutches. Give it a go.” Tommy said, extending his hands to you. They were coarse and dry, and that was a bit off putting to you. The second you put pressure down on your leg it felt like fire was streaming in your veins. Maria noticed your face tense and your hand grip harder on her husbands forearms. You sat back down on the bed, subduing your pain somewhat. “Shit,” Tommy sighed. “Do you think it was worse than we thought? Could the doctor have measured it wrong?” Maria whispered to Tommy. You heard bits and pieces of their conversation after that, but all you could focus on was your leg throbbing.

Ultimately, the two of them decided to get a wheelchair for you to use temporarily and be on strict bed rest. Yay.

“I dunno how I’m supposed to…” Maria said, grunting as she began to lift the handles of your wheelchair. “Don't!” Tommy yelled, stopping his very pregnant wife from potentially harming herself or the baby. “You wait here, lemme get Joel.”

Ice seemed to jolt through your veins when he said that. “Joel?” you asked suddenly in an alarmed tone. Tommy raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, he can help us get down the steps.”

You froze as Tommy began to walk away. You looked up at Maria.

“What’s his last name?”

“Miller. He did spend some time in the Boston QZ… maybe you’ll recognize him.”

No no no no, no no no. This cannot be happening. This is a fever dream, you convinced yourself. This isn’t happening. This isn't real.

“You alright?” Maria asked, looking down from behind you. She was concerned at your lack of response. As she asked that, Tommy began to return. And along side him walked the man you had to convince yourself you weren't in love with.

Maybe he wouldn't recognize you.

You had lost a significant amount of weight. You sliced off half of the length of your hair while you made your journey just simply because it was annoying. Maybe he wouldn’t recognize you. You prayed he didn't. Oh god, what if he thought you were the weird stalker girl who followed him here simply because she wanted to be with him? That’s terrifying. Stalkers existed in the fungal world, but you weren't one in the real world.

“This Ellie’s new roommate?”

His voice filled your skin with goosebumps. Not looking up, you kept your eyes glued on your feet in the wheelchair footrests. “Yup, she’s all yours.” Maria said chipperly, giving Joel jurisdiction to the wheelchair handles. Tommy counted down from four as the two men struggled to make a clear way down the wooden steps of the medical ward. Hearing Joel grunt brought back to many explicit memories, it honestly made your core begin to warm. Joel wheeled you all the way to a house. “Your gon’ have to build a ramp,” Tommy teased Joel. Joel sighed, picking up the wheelchair once again in synch with Tommy as they struggled to make sure your wheels didn’t bump the old, cracked wooden stairs of the house.

As they wheeled you inside the house, the two middle aged men were out of breathe.

“You know…” Joel said, catching his breathe by holding on to the side of his wall. “Those damned brick stairs are gonna be hell. If she wants, she’s welcome to my couch until she’s well enough to walk.”

As Tommy spun around your wheelchair, your eyes met with Joel’s for the first time in over five months.

And he recognized you. Oh, he totally recognized you. His facial structure seemed to shift as he realized that the girl he just offered to live on his couch was you.

“Alright,” Tommy said, not realizing what was going on. His smooth voice luckily interrupted the longing look you and Joel were sharing. “I’m gonna go fix you up some breakfast from the mess hall. You good from here?” You nodded your head slowly.

“Don’t bother, I got plenty here.” Joel offered. Your eyes widened, realizing he wanted to get you alone with him. “You sure?” Tommy questioned. “Go find your wife, take her to a nice breakfast.” Joel suggested. Tommy agreed and promptly left the house.

Joel sat in an old recliner across from you. Your finger scratched at the old medical sticker stuck to the wheelchair’s arm.

“How did-” “Are you-”

The two of you let out an embarrassed scoff. “You go,” he offered. “No you-” you insisted. After bantering for a few seconds, Joel broke the awkwardness.

“How did you find me?”

You sighed. So you did come off as the stalker-ish, jealous girl. “It’s not like that, I promise you. M-Maria is my aunt, the one I was trying to find when…”

“When I was searchin’ for Tommy, yeah.” Joel finished your sentence. “She invited me here, gave me coordinates. I didn’t know you were here until five minutes ago, Joel.”

His name sounded weird coming off your lips after filling your head for so many months. Joel let out a sigh of relief. “You look different,”

“Yeah, well two months across country with almost no food and no ammo can change a person.”

He sighed. “And you…?” he asked, gesturing for you to ask your question.

“Are you mad?”

Joel chuckled.

“Your wondering if I’m mad?”

“Well yeah, I mean we didn't necessarily end on good terms.”

“Good terms?” Joel laughed. “I thought about that damned kiss for months, Y/N.”

A smile sparked to your lips, but slowly left when you remembered. Tess.

“And where is Tess? I’m sure she would be happy to see me.”

Joel’s eyes darted to the floor.

“She didn’t make it,” he said bluntly.

Memories flooding back of the good times you and Tess had made you sad. She was gone. The closest thing you had to a friend was Tess.

“Well,” Joel said, breaking the awkward silence. “Would you like some breakfast? Better than those sardines…” You chuckled a bit.

“Will you help me?” you asked, looking now up at Joel. He nodded, reaching out for your hands. He pulled you up, and the wheelchair rolled backwards. As you tried to steady yourself, the movement of the wheelchair put you off and you began to slip. “Shit,” you yelped as your boot hit the floor. Joel them promptly picked you up under the armpits and held you up unnaturally high. Naturally, your good leg wrapped around his waist, as the other one did its best attempt at following your other leg. His hands rested under your butt, one hand grasping on to it. You now looked down at him as he held you. “Giving me flashbacks,” you chuckled, a hand coming to steady yourself on his back. The other hand traveled just below his hairline on his neck. It was within seconds that Joel’s mouth was on yours.

He was eager. He hadn’t been with you for a good seven months. He needed something, even if it was just a taste of you.

“Fuck,” he muttered, pulling away. “I missed that.”

Your hand had traveled up his head, now grasping his graying hair. Both of your breaths were heavy. “Joel,” you whispered. “Please.”

He nodded and slowly put you down on the couch. Your leg hit the ground with an oompf. He stood in front of you. The bulge in his pants was very prominent.

“May I?” he asked you, coming down to his knees. Joel was never this respectful back in Boston. He would take what he wanted when he wanted, with your consent of course. He never asked for permission because he was always confident that he had it; and he did. Something in him had changed. It was very obvious that it did. You weren't sure if it was Tess’s passing, the brutal crossing of the country, or the argument the two of you had before. But something had definitely changed.

With the confirmation he was granted, he slowly lifted your butt off the sofa to remove your pants. Once your pants were by your thighs he yanked them off. One leg stayed trapped over your boot. There was the Boston Joel coming back, seeping through this new shell of a man he was. Your panties were soaked per usual. “Always so wet for me,” Joel muttered, pushing your stomach back on the couch. He took his middle finger and pushed your panties aside, but also coming back and giving a quick swipe between your folds. A soft moan came from your lips. You adjusted yourself so that you were on full display. Your hips rocked back as Joel wettened his fingers from you. His other hand rested on your thigh, holding it firmly as his thumb made soft circles on your inner thigh, dangerously close. You stirred as he finally inserted two fingers. “J-Joel…” you moaned, clenching around him.

“Just like that,” he said, slowly pumping in and out. “Good girl.”

The praise was almost enough to send you over the wall. He never gave you anything like this back in Boston. It was always to satisfy himself. You feel like this time Joel really, truly cared. He moved his hand from your thigh to your lower back, moving yourself closer to his face. His thumb brushed circles around your clit. “Do you want it?” he asked you. You looked down to his eager eyes. They seemed to melt at the sight of you. You shook your head. “With words…”

Boston Joel’s dominance had returned. “Y-yes.”

“Manners?” he asked, giving another deep circle around your clit. “Please, Joel. Please.”

You knew he liked when you used his name. “Good job,”

His tongue softly darted to your folds. A plethora of slurred swears and moans came from you as he began to eat you out. The sucking and slurping noises were almost pathetic; Joel was so needy. Both of his hands rested on your thighs, tightly holding on. As he took a second to re gain some air, his lips moaned against your clit. That was almost enough to make you cum. He licked his lips, and went back in. This time he could tell you were close. You were already contracting and he could feel the release building up in your core. “Come on baby, beg for it.”

“Let me cum Joel, please! I-I… please!”

He pulled away and kissed your folds. “Since you asked so nicely,”

His tongue seemed to dissolve inside of you as your orgasm began to hit you. “So good, good job baby. Ride it out.” he said, moving away from you. His thumb delved into your clit that made your legs begin to shake. “It’s okay, you got it.” Joel re assured you, holding down your knee on your injured jeg so it wouldn’t hurt. Once you came down from your high, he helped you put your pants back on. Slowly, he helped you get up and pulled your pants back up to your waist.

Holding you in his arms, the two of you stood.

“God, how I missed this.”

“God, how I missed you.”

-

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[mofffun]

King-Ohger G-rosso S4

Remember when the title is just the most… non-informative with "The Kings Gather Here[at G-rosso]!"? That's. That's literally the plot. Just glad to say all your sentai trope love is satisfied.

There are a lot more actor scenes vs action scenes I doubt if I'm in the right theatre, and much more than S3. Shame on me not having revised on last year's and without realizing S4 is exclusively scripted with the face actors in mind. Even the audio is voiced by the original actors. It's almost like a fan meeting with interactive games and all rather than a Sentai stage play lol.

[spoilers below cut]

(Livestream est. Mar 17, 17:30)

Stage show:

Minnogan broke out of the seal mysteriously and stole the crown lance.

Each cast member has a short sequence of action before transforming. Gira center, Yanma upper stage right, Himeno lower stage left, Rita middle stage right, Kaguragi middle syage left. Rita did the hand-behind-back pose transforming and Papi did the ep16 strike! Jeramie's entrance is all grand with sliding doors in the middle stage. Not just the set blocks sliding horizontally, the projected virtual background (Shugoddom castle platform) also rotates to different angles, so as a stage production, it feels like a level-up from S3.

Minnogan activated the castle spaceship and transported the kings to present day Tokyo, Theatre G-rosso. Yanma commented there seems to be a lot of fun rides, Gira and Kaguragi asked the audience what this place is. Rita remained at the back of the trope.

A kaijin introduced himself as the Magician and blasted them with a beam, the kings minus Giramie suffered a personality inside out. Rita is Idol Rittan, Himeno is yankee (so still violent), Yanma became a coward/shiokara/schoolgirl with pigtails and thick round glasses trope, Kaguragi a flirty jokester. Giramie remained themselves having avoided the attack. When the others stormed off, Giramie looked each other in the eyes and said, "I'll leave that to you." The trust! They are Parents™!!

Yanma shouted, "Yanma is scared 😭" and ran off stage. Rita was the first one that moves versus when they were usually the last. Yuzuyan Rita just immediately switched to the idol voice and came down to the lower stage keep waving at people. When Himeno walked off the scene, they went after her going, "Eh~ don't leave (without) me, Hime-tan!" You can practically see the bottom half of Rita's face 😭

Cut to Rittan chasing an angry Himeno to practice for their Idol act. Rittan turned to the audience and said, "You want to see Hime-tan as an idol too, right?" Jeramie caught up to them and the magician kaijin challenged them to a game to get back to normal.

Kaguragi, Yanma, Gira: Kaguragi became all frivolous with a different tone of speaking (a bit like Ryuta Den-O/Gaon Zenkai). After some routine pick-up lines, Kagu caught up to Yanma, put his arm around his shoulders and said, "How about we have a good long talk, just the two of us?" *wink* Yanma tried to crunch himself as small as possible holding his own hand. HE HIT KAGU WITH A TINY FIST AND SAID "WARUI OTOKO (Naughty guy...)" AND STARTED GINGERLY TOUCHING HIS PECS. Gira arrived just in time for this and said "Are they dating?"

The game is a simplified Flappy Bird but Moffun. Rita's version of Moffun's song played in the background and Rita danced slightly along to it. The audience had too keep clapping loud enough while Moffun (an acutal person is in there moving its arm and legs while in the air) was hanged up by a wire and transported across the stage from left to right. (edit: Yuzuyan sang the Moffun song live instead of a recording. Moffun's arm could be waving because of wire work)

There's a progess bar and game background on the screen too. Of course Moffun fell down half way, Rittan snapped back into the judge voice and yelled at the audience not to drop it (Live Rita scream!!). Jeramie smoothed things over by calling it a practice to make the kaijin give us a second chance. We won the game and they got back to normal. I don't think they have clear memories of their behaviour, but just a vague sense. Regular Rita said, "Feels like I embarrassed myself..."

Kaijin appeared and challenged Gira to a game. The kaijin would call for different poses and Gira had to follow while the rhythm accelerates. Round 1 had Yanma doing rabbit ears and Kagu a tiger's jaw with his hands (like zyuoh shark ED pose). Gira's pose is spreading his arms with the evil laugh act.

Since Gira passed Round 1, the kaijin made the game more difficult by changing the poses faster. Round 2's Yanma's pose is Idol Rittan and Kagu did push-ups. Gira's the same so this session is just watching Taisei got up and down >D< Gira's the one most frequently interacting with the audiene. When they changed back, Yanma was shocked he was standing with his feet pointing inwards. Kaguragi said, "Hmmm, can't tell why but I feel an affection for Yanma-dono."

The six kings regroup. Minnogan summoned Dugded and the kings turned on each other. Gira was not affected but he had to fight off Jeramie. They were quickly de-transformed and appeared pinched.

Prince and Kyoryu Red descended from the middle block and ziplined to the rescue! Prince very naturally said "Otou-chan" >D< The Kyoryu pairs led the audience into a cheer for the King-Ohgers.

The kings regained strength while Dugded revived the Jesters to fight them. Gira transformed with the crown and they did the ep33 crossover roll call.

Yan Hime vs. Hibill & Glodi. Kagu Rita vs. Goma & Kamejim. The pollinator fight is amazing. They kinda ran up the audience blocks up to the last block and zipline back down??? and then they defeated them combining their "King's Proof" techniques. Jeramie and Prince fought Minnogan while Gira and King fought Dugded.

They won, detransformed, did the fist bump circle from ep39, and the kingoh dance.

After talk:

I was at Feb 4 16:00 & 17:30. Both sessions are the same.

The kings invented a game called "King-Ohger Game" (HKers call it "Ping! Pang! Wah!")

The players are in a circle and point to a person while saying a command. You have to say/do the correct response in sequence or lose.

Person A points at B, A says (First Name)

B -> C (Last Name)

C & Everyone (pose)

C -> anyone else *repeats*

The commands and poses:

Gira -> Husty -> "Jaku no Ou!" (thumb & forefinger out pointing the front)

Yanma -> Gast -> "Souchou!" (yankee fix hair both hands)

Himeno -> Ran -> "Kawaii" (this but smiling)

Rita -> Kaniska -> "Saibanchou" (stabs sword to ground)

Kaguragi -> Dybowski -> "Ou-tono!" (pose)

Jeramie -> Brasieri -> "Otto?" (two palms up on side + head shake)

The kings were in this line up 💙💛❤🤍💜🖤 at introduction, but Rita said they are serious about the game and need to see better with their only left eye so they mvoed all the way to right -> 💜💙💛❤🤍🖤. Yuzuyan even flipped her hair a bit and showed the blue eye (me dead at the coolness)

The kings formed a semi-circle to start the game. The audience was supposed to follow with the poses but the cast apparently was just having fun themselves XD. They kept getting faster and faster until it's Wings targeting each other. Yanma lost the game and Rita immediately stepped forward to announce he lost. Yanma asked "Seriously?!" (feels like it's the actors at this point but it still fits their characters lol)

The penalty is a mimic game. Aoto need to do Boon. He skipped to stage center. "Gira nii-chan~! Advent! King-Ohger!"

In the 17:30 show, Erica lost twice. She said the first time is practice but admitted it the second time. She did Suzume's "Help! Shugo Kamen-sama~!!"

After the game, Jeramie asked the audience if they like each member respectively, but paused at Gira's turn. He only asked when Gira said "What about me?" Then he also asked if we like Miss MC (so MC can ask if we like Jeramie). When everyone says "Daisuki", Jeramie gets to say "Me too <3" 😭

At the final bye-bye, Himeno is always pointing out "I see you!" at the fans. Gira will say "ギラだよ!" at the little kids. Giramie did a 🫶 with each other!! REAL. I heard the fans behind me said "There's so much Giramie (<-exact word) in this show" upon leaving.

Conclusion:

Can March 17 comes faster because I need to see this show again. This show is SO worth the price as a fan meeting.

I didn't fact-check this but twitter were saying Takada Masashi is listed in S4's credits. I don't know if he's in the Kumonos suit or in a supervising role but Kumonos looked significantly buffer than before and quite close to TV to my untrained eye. Another thing is I find Jeramie's mantle is much longer than I thought? I thought it just passed his hips but it's almost at his calf.

There were real fire shooting up and the theatre did turn completely dark for a bit so I see why baby kids would be scared. But as an adult I had a LOT of fun seeing the action so close in person and apparently the cast is having a lot of fun too.

Ticketing & seating:

(previous guide)

S3: I booked a general lottery round through proxy and got two permium through twitter. Possibly because most people has seen it, tickets weren't hard to find.

S4: I did not book anything but general lottery round were available on twitter for Saturady (2/3). Permium is hard to find because Jeramie is really popular now his badge is complimentary to the Permium ticket. General Sale opens one week before for Feb S4 (and two weeks before for March). I managed to find tickets in the first block just hopping by a 7-11. (Note: sale starts 1/27 19:00 but choosing your own seat only works after 1/28 0:00) There are still tickets in the middle and last block on the same day. The later the shows, the least crowded from my observation. Saturadays might be easier to get tickets but if you want to feel the atmosphere with kids cheering around you, choose a Sunday show.

Since it's about seeing the actors, I'd still advise seating yourself as front as possible. Even on the far left or right, you can still see the whole stage. I think the ideal distance is Row E or F because down on Permium, your view to the middle stage will be blocked and your neck's gonna hurt staring at what's happening at the ceiling.

Another good seat is any walkway seat or Row L so the suit actors run next to you. Seating at the second block isn't too bad this time because S4 has actors running/descending from as far as Row T.

Both S3 & S4 face actor sessions require real-name registration on the ticket. You have to input a name and a JP phone number at the combini machine, but they don't actually check it upon entry.

[diana-bluewolf]

Yay, I’ve finally finished it!

Some stills from the video.

Have you ever wished Sebastian's side quest line ended differently? Yes, me too. That's why I made this video (yet there's still its own crisis in it, sorry). The first part of it mostly retells the beginning of their story from the game, but the ending is different.

I really hope you enjoy it because I've been working on this for ages, trying to get the hang of mods and AI voices. I've written some clarification further, maybe you’ll find it helpful after watching the video (to avoid spoilers).

Sebastian’s impulsiveness reminded me of that moment from the original HP stories, where Harry uses Sectumsempra on Draco. You know, an absolutely unfamiliar spell “for enemies” with unknown consequences from a mysterious book. 

In a normal state of mind Sebastian would have never hurt Ominis or, after what happened with Anne, he would have never doomed anyone, never mind his best friend who he does care about, to such fate. But Anne was getting worse, the relic was his last hope, he was desperate, his mind was in a mess. He was mad at Solomon, who seemed to do his best to prevent Anne from healing. 

When Ominis tried to stop him and take the relic away, Sebastian said that he won’t step back from a fight. Ominis unintentionally responded with the same words that Solomon liked to say about Sebastian, a powerful trigger. “He doesn’t know when to stop.” Sebastian’s exhausted mind interpreted it as “to stop saving Anne”, Solomon and Ominis’s images mixed up in his mind, so he lost it. His anger wanted them to feel what Anne feels. He cursed Ominis with a powerful dark spell, which he had learnt from Slytherin's spellbook by the logic “the better prepared we’ll be”. Sebastian regretted it a moment later but it was too late. Ominis had survived only because Chris (MC) had managed to get him to healers fast, but he still remained seriously ill afterwards.  

Sebastian and Chris were trying to find a cure. Eventually Chris discovered that ancient magic could take away dark energy that was ruining cursed people's health. Just like Isadora did with mental pain but safer, because unlike the latter dark energy isn’t supposed to be a part of being a human. Although Chris had been avoiding Dark Magic before, he realised that now he needed to attune himself to it a little, so that he could recognise its energy in a patient (Ominis and then Anne) and extract it. And that is where Sebastian's knowledge of Dark Magic turned to be crucial, because he guided Chris. 

They had managed to make a special potion, which together with ancient magic not only cured Ominis of Sebastian's curse but also had a side effect - it returned his eyesight. Let's imagine that he wasn’t born blind after all but he lost his eyesight in infancy because one of his brothers loved to fiddle with dark magic and Ominis came in handy as a training dummy. And the Gaunts covered it with a made up story about congenital disability. So when Chris rid Ominis of all the dark magic impact, it affected the eyes as well.

So, the main idea is - there would be no happiness, but misfortune helped. Sebastian did curse Ominis, but it turned out to be a blessing in disguise of some kind. Though the price for Ominis' eyesight was quite high -  trust in Sebastian. Hopefully, they can sort it out eventually.

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Mods used:

“Male Face Replacer - Ominis Gaunt“ by JustAnOrdinaryGuy

“Unique Player Eye Shapes“ and “Brighter Eyes“

“Male Face Replacer - Sebastian Sallow“ by JustAnOrdinaryGuy

“UETools - Developer Console . FreeCamera . Debugging“ by Cranch

“Character Editor“ by nathdev

“Animations Mod Menu“ by YouYouTheBoxx

“Anne Sallow's Face“ by brucetesting123

“Party like it's 1890“ - Wizard edition by Aryksa

“Sebastian Sallow's Closet (Alternate Clothes)“ by leoisalion

“Ominis Gaunt's Closet (Alternate Clothes)“ by leoisalion

“Alohomora Mod” by Alfairy

“The Ultimate Wand Collection“ by Rosestorm

“Highlight Remover“ by HaywirePhoenix

“Emote with any npc” by nathdev

“AnyTimeCompanion” by Pez

[self-loving-vampire]

While on that subject, one of the stories about abuse that resonated the most with me (besides Tsukihime, which is also about a ton of other things) is the short manga titled May My Father Die Soon.

Part of this is that it avoids the "perfect victim" narrative I complained about the other night (although not to the same extent as some other characters I know).

Spoilers and discussions of child abuse (including a couple of personal things) below the cut.

Asuka is obviously the sympathetic party, but the abuse coming her way is not depicted as just random outbursts with no rhyme or reason like in some other stories. Abusers like that do exist, to be clear, but my experience was more with violence as a tool to coerce and attempt to shape behavior.

The abuser often has some kind of excuse for what they're doing. Something that helps them convince themselves that what they are doing is right and proper, maybe even necessary. It doesn't mean their behavior is good, but it means there's a logic to it that the victim comes to understand and navigate.

The first time we really witness what Asuka's home situation is like is when she neglects her chores to play video games with her sister.

Hitting children for not doing the laundry is wrong, but it is something that a lot of abusive parents would find to be justified. They think they are teaching their children discipline and virtuous behavior when they do that. They think they are preventing their children from becoming spoiled and lazy.

Sometimes people are even abused after doing things that are legitimately wrong, but this does not justify the abuse. It's a type of nuance that is missing from depictions in which the abuser is just a gleeful sadist who just hates their victim and enjoys hurting them.

A lot of these parents think they are doing the right thing and use violence as a means rather than an end. After stomping on his own daughter he refers to what he just did as "discipline" and acts as if it's just a burdensome duty he has to deal with rather than an act of violence he inflicted on an actual human being.

He is also quick to pull out the "I give you food and shelter so be eternally grateful and always obey me" card.

Which is, again, something I have heard expressed by multiple authoritarian parents both in my personal life and online. "I pay the bills so they must do everything I say" or "I am a good parent because I do the legal minimum to provide for them".

I also like how Asuka does not react to her abuse in a perfectly meek and submissive way like the "perfect victim" archetype usually does. She not only eventually contemplates patricide out of desperation but also shares her sister's anger even if she tries to put on a more "role model-like" front about it.

She hates how she's being treated, and she even lashes out against her sister and feels disgusted with herself afterwards. It's very different from the depictions where the victim only has "nice" and endearing symptoms like low self-esteem.

The scene in which she tries to get help from the law only for her to be dismissed (her father is a respected and influential person) and punished for it also carries a sort of despair that I'm very familiar with.

One of the times my mother came to sleep in my room because my father was being violent (I used to protect her from him) I naively suggested calling the police. She said it would only provoke him into potentially lethal escalation and that the police would not act unless he did something extreme, like killing or hospitalizing someone. Hearing that from an experienced lawyer would have been pretty chilling if I had not already been dissociating for years at that point, but the information and its implications sank in regardless of how I felt about it.

He was a rich business administrator and CEO considered a good and successful person in the adult world. He once even mockingly dared me to call the police on him, knowing nothing would come out of it.

The only reason I still bothered to fight back against him physically is because I did not care about myself enough not to at that time. Might as well inconvenience and hurt him if I'm fucked either way.

Her father then proceeds to draft her into his company (hey that seems like a very specific and unusual thing but it also happened to me!) in a way that further highlights the way in which his behavior is actually in accord with authoritarian parenting norms.

His reasoning is that he's not going to just give her handouts. She needs to work for a living. This sounds reasonable to a lot of people, who worry about "spoiling" their children by being too generous in providing for them without demanding effort, but here we can see the ways in which it tightens the leash.

She can't decide on her own future and is impeded in independently financing her escape because her finances are going to be dependent on him and his approval.

This is something that a lot of people actually miss when thinking about the children of abusive but wealthy parents. You don't actually have free access to your parents' resources. You have purely conditional access that relies on pleasing them and conforming to their wishes. Meanwhile, they have an increased level of reach, resources, and respectability to prevent you from escaping.

Another heartbreaking bit is how the abuse has become so life-defining for her that she doesn't really know what she wants to do with herself. The one wish she can think of is just not being abused anymore.

She is eventually forbidden from freely leaving the house entirely, and while sexually abusing her again he once again makes it explicit that he considers her property...

And when the subject of Hotaru (Asuka's younger sister) comes up, he goes on a monologue that those of us who defied authoritarian parents may be familiar with.

The whole "I have been too nice but it only made you spoiled (as proven by your defiance) so from now on I'm going to hurt and control you more" thing.

And he also drops this line.

To an authoritarian parent, disobedience of any kind to any degree is a deadly sin that must be beaten out of children as if they were dogs in training. If you read conservative parenting "experts" like James Dobson you can even find them saying this kind of thing explicitly.

I also like that Hotaru provides a different, also resonant exploration of how someone might react to abuse in addition to Asuka. Even after being hit to the point of bleeding by her father, she remains willful and tries to hold on to her own independence even if obedience would hurt less.

And, like Asuka, she's not a Perfect Victim either. She is the one who helps finish her own father off after all (after being given a lecture on rehabilitation no less). The conversation she has with her sister regarding worker ants also shows she is interested in her own autonomy and leisure to a degree that would be considered "spoiled" by a lot of people. She should aspire to be a hard worker who pleases others at the cost of her own happiness like her older sister was raised to do, right?

I especially like that she's wearing an "I love myself <3" T-shirt during the scene in which she rejects the efforts to beat her into submission as well as Asuka's recommendation to give in and obey. Kind of heavy-handed, but cute.

I also like the flashback that shows that there was once a time Asuka's parents were kind to her and she sincerely loved them.

Children are in a situation where they are strongly predisposed towards loving their parents by default and need to be loved back. It often takes a lot to change that. Some people, like Hotaru, change pretty early on while others try to cling to this need for a lot longer.

This is complicated by the fact that the parents may start out "kind" until their children start disobeying them, at which point they turn increasingly violent and controlling.

Asuka eventually realizes that she will never be truly happy if her life revolves around being her father's property. That even if she was to hollow herself out into exactly the kind of obedient doll he wants her to be she will be miserable. With no options left to escape, she becomes suicidal.

This leads to a panel that is like... pretty much straight-up an exact conversation I have had before.

"I provide. I have money that you benefit from. Your life is way better than that of poor people. You should be grateful and do everything I say." again.

Like paying the bills mean they own you and can do as they please.

It really feels like a good understanding of not just the victims involved but also of this type of abuser as well, and even now I get the impression that if I had failed to think of a plan for how to escape them my own situation could have also ended up with a murder, a suicide, or both even though I'm not a violent person at all. The desperation as all of your peaceful options are cut off is very real.

I'm really happy it did not come to that in my case, but I still did many things that a "perfect victim" would not be allowed to, like becoming manipulative and deceiving my parents for the sake of escaping. I don't feel guilty about it either, and eventually lost much of my sense of empathy (oddly, this happened after I had already gotten away).

So even though I did not actually kill my abuser I still relate to characters who end up doing that, because to me it feels like a bad ending I was this close to getting despite not really wanting that to happen.

Anyway, I feel really seen and understood by this story to a much greater degree than I do in more sanitized, black and white stories about abuse in which the victims never do anything remotely bad and the abusers are moral aberrations who just enjoy hurting people for fun.

[where-theres-smoak-2]

HOTD 2X02 Review/Thoughts (SPOILERS)

Apologies for this review coming a little late, life got a bit busy so although I watched the episode a few days ago I've only just found the time to write a review. I do think that this episode was a step up from ep 1 and overall I enjoyed it. As I say in all of my reviews, I have not read the books so all my thoughts and opinions are based solely on the show, these are just my own thoughts, interpretations and opinions and of course there are spoilers.

The Aftermath of Blood and Cheese.

When watching the opening sequence something about it seemed eerily familiar and at first I couldn't place my finger on it, then I realised that it seems really similar to 1x09 when Viserys dies, that image of all the servants being ousted from their beds and shepherded through the dark halls of the red keep in their night clothes. We also see the model of Old Valyria in both scenes as well if I remember rightly, in 1x09 we see it covered in cobwebs and then in this episode we see Aegon smashing it to pieces. Not going to lie as a history buff it did hurt me a little seeing such a priceless piece of history being smashed up like that but I also understand Aegon's grief. I do find this parallel interesting though, arguably the death of Viserys and the subsequent usurpation of the throne was what kicked the dance off so its interesting that they are drawing a parallel between that moment and this moment with Jaehaerys' death.

One little detail that was really eery was when Aemond finds that coin and holds it up to his face, over his eye. I can't help but see this as a death omen because it looked spookily liked the coins that are put over a corpses eyes when they are being given their final rites.

Another small detail I did find kind of odd throughout the episode though was how no one really used Jaehaerys' name, he is often referred to as 'the child' even by his closest family members, I think maybe the writers did this to keep reminding the audience that it was a child, an innocent, that had lost their lives, but unfortunately when it came to his own family it made the characters seem quite cold and as if they were distancing themselves from him. Other times instead of being referred to by his name it was by what he was to a particular character, Aegon refers to him as his legacy, his heir, his little son. Otto refers to him as his grandson and as a targaryen prince, Helaena calls him her boy. Interestingly I think the only person who does refer to him by his name is Criston, but I could be wrong about that. I do think this is an interesting detail they've added and it does remind of how sometimes when you lose someone you might avoid mentioning their name out of fear of the grief and pain that might follow hearing it. That could be what's happening here.

One scene that did really disgust me though was the council right after Jaehaerys' death. Just how quickly Otto started scheming and plotting and trying to use this little boy's death to his own advantage. The way that Otto and the rest just decided that it didn't matter if Rhaenyra did have a hand in it or not, they could still use it to besmirch her name and turn the people and houses/potential allies against her. I just don't understand how anyone can be so calculating that soon after their own grandchild's death.

There's also that somewhat haunting moment when Larys comes in and informs that Blood was caught at the gates and he had Jaehaerys' head in a bag, that was not an image I needed and honestly made me feel a bit sick.

Otto's suggestion of a funeral procession and making Jaehaerys into this public display was also horrifying to me. I mean some credit needs to be given to Aegon for refusing at first. But I hated the way Otto also tried to twist it into something it wasn't, trying to make it seem like it was a way of honouring Jaehaerys when really he was just using him like a piece in a chess game, as a way of undermining Rhaenyra and her claim. Like strategically I know that it is a smart move, it is a huge blow to their enemy, but morally it is so so wrong. What makes it worse it how Otto then says that Helaena and Alicent must follow behind, that their grief must also be put on display and how the king should be spared. It shows how the greens over and over again exploit their women in order to further raise the standing of their men. Aegon is to be spared but Helaena, who just went through the trauma of watching her son be brutally murdered, she isn't spared further torment.

The funeral procession itself was really heartbreaking, seeing little Jaehaerys laid out with the white flowers, he looked like he was sleeping and then you see those stitches where they had to sew his head back on and its gut-wrenching. Right away you can see how much Helaena is struggling, but then there's that moment when the cart gets stuck and all the small folk begin to crowd them. There is a moment that really broke me and that's when the first of the small folk reach out to touch Jaehaerys and Helaena immediately stands up like she wants to protect him, I wouldn't be surprised if she flashedback to blood and cheese because the last time she saw strangers surrounding her son whilst he slept was when they killed him. The crowd clearly overwhelms Helaena and its so sad seeing her wanting to get away but there isn't anywhere for her to go, you can see the cart with Jaehaerys rocking and I honestly thought his little body was going to fall off, thankfully that didn't happen. But this scene really built the tension and made you feel very stressed and claustrophobic along with Alicent and Helaena. I just hate that they were used in this way.

Rhaenyra and Daemon

Ok judge me if you will but I did find that scene with the black council where they are receiving the news about Jaehaerys a bit funny. In the sense that you've got Rhaenyra utterly confused as to why anyone would think she was responsible for Blood and Cheese whilst Daemon is trying to look innocent, Rhaenys is staring him down and the rest of the council are looking around awkwardly not wanting to say anything. Then you have that moment when Rhaenyra clocks on and also just stares him down, I don't think it was supposed to be funny yet somehow there was still a comical air to it.

So let's talk about the fight between Rhaenyra and Daemon. One thing I will say is that I am glad that I didn't get worked up when a part of this clip was released, I know alot of people where thinking it was going to be another scene like the nonsense of 1x10, I am also thankful that it wasn't and it was just a verbal altercation this time. Honestly in some ways I do think that they needed to have this fight, I think alot of what came up were resentments that they had buried for a long time centred around Viserys and the throne and past hurts.

To me it makes sense that Rhaenyra has some lingering trust issues, Daemon has caused her hurt in the past, when he stole her brother's dragon egg, when he rejected her then abandoned her in the brothel, when he gate-crashed her wedding feast, tried to talk her out of marrying Laenor and then abandoned her again, this time fleeing to Essos and leaving her to face the greens alone. So yes I can understand that despite their love for each other she still has some issues around being hurt or abandoned by him.

But I also think they both had good points throughout this argument. Daemon was clearly very hurt that Rhaenyra doesn't trust him and that she doesn't believe that he is loyal to her. Again he makes a good point when he says that he was the one who put the crown on her head himself, that he was at that moment preparing to go to Harrenhall to raise an army in her name. What was interesting to me in this moment was that Daemon's voice begins to crack, usually he is very nonchalant and, I'm trying to think of the right word, calm or casual, he acts like he isn't bothered even when he is. So its interesting to me to see that slip and actually hear his voice crack in this moment with Rhaenyra.

But Rhaenyra also makes a fair point when she confronts him about leading a war council when she laboured alone. That scene from 1x10 was so hard to watch the way she called out for him and she can hear her cries, she was going through this traumatic ordeal where she had just received the news that her father was dead and her throne usurped and then she goes into pre-term labour and has to face it alone, so I can understand how she can once again feel abandoned by Daemon in that moment. But, and I may have some disagree with me here, but I can also understand why Daemon avoided going to her in that moment. Part of it, I think, is because they both knew the moment she went into labour that early that their child wasn't going to make it, that something was very wrong. The last time Daemon saw someone struggle with a pregnancy/Labour was Laena and she died, not only did she die but she died in a way that was very traumatic for Daemon and his daughters. So to me it would make sense that he wouldn't want to be there when Rhaenyra is also struggling with a complicated labour, what if he is once again confronted with a choice between saving her or the baby by the maester like he was Laena, what if Rhaenyra dies? On top of that Daemon himself has just lost his brother and is reeling from that, as I talked about in my review of 2x01, Daemon's way of dealing with grief is to keep moving, to focus on some task, he can't be still, he needs a distraction, it would have drove him crazy to sit in that room with her and feel helpless as she delivered their stillborn daughter, so he does the only thing he can to feel useful, he makes sure dragonstone is secured and begins making plans for war to strike back at the greens who he blames for Rhaenyra being in this position. That being said that doesn't make his actions right, and they definitely weren't fair to Rhaenyra who needed him with her in that moment, but they are understandable and Daemon is human, he makes mistakes and fails at times. Also to be fair to Daemon he does go to her eventually but its too late by the time he shows up. But like I said no matter how much I understand the reasons behind Daemon's actions, Rhaenyra still has every right to feel hurt and angry at him for it.

Then they get into the subject of Viserys and the issue of heir to the throne. Again Rhaenyra made a good point when she said that Viserys, like Rhaenyra, couldn't trust Daemon. I do think Daemon's biggest enemy is his own impulsiveness and rashness. It is obvious that Daemon is loyal to both his brother and Rhaenyra, its obvious that he loved them both and I don't agree with Rhaenyra's statement that the only person his heart belongs to is himself, I think he loves both Viserys and Rhaenyra more than he loves himself, but he has a habit of letting his impulses get the better of him and that drives a wedge between him and Viserys and Rhaenyra. It doesn't help that this mistrust and the gap between them is forced wider by Otto scheming, it suits him for Daemon to be at odds with Viserys because Daemon sees right through Otto and knows how he manipulates Viserys. One thing I do agree with that Daemon said was that Viserys wasn't a leader of men, he was constantly being pushed around and manipulated by others and just always wanted to keep the peace, at times this was the correct course, but at others there was a need for action. Daemon on the other is very much someone who was a leader which is why I think he struggles with surrendering that role to Rhaenyra at times.

Daemon also was saying it true when he pointed out that Rhaenyra wasn't made heir, initially, because Viserys thought she'd be a good queen but because he wanted to put Daemon in his place, it was more Viserys recognised Daemon was too impulsive to be a good King than because he thought Rhaenyra was wise and a good option. It is possible that he recognised that as she was younger he would be able to mould her more into being a good ruler, he had more time to teach her. But this is still hurtful to Rhaenyra who has always had some doubt as to whether her father truly wanted her to be heir.

I do think that they both needed to get all of this hurt and lingering resentment out, it was still awful and heartbreaking to watch because to me it does seem like they love each other, but right now they do need their space from each other. I don't think this is the end of their story, I think Daemon will go to Harrenhall and try his hardest to prove that he is loyal to Rhaenyra and try to win her trust back. I also think with him gone maybe Rhaenyra will come to realise just how much she does rely on him, I mean a big part of the reason why she married him, outside of their love, was for protection.

Ok I know this part some of you will disagree with me, but last ep's review talked about whether or not I thought Daemon had directly ordered the death of Jaehaerys, whether his command was if you can't find Aemond then any son will do. I said that I didn't think he did and it was more of a lost in translation situation, that he said something like 'it has to be a son for a son, no head no money''. That he meant it in reference to Aemond only, as he has used that line in reference to Aemond, but obviously Blood and Cheese didn't know that, misinterpreted it and instead figured Jaehaerys would do. After seeing this episode I am actually even more convinced that this is what happened. Here's my reasoning for this, previously when confronted with crimes/sins he may have committed, like the heir for a day, whether he took Rhaenyra's virginity etc, he always gives vague answers and acts unbothered, he's half admitted to things he hasn't even done in the past because to him its better to own it then to defend himself. The only time we really see him being honest is in 1x02 on the bridge when she outright asks Daemon if he's to have a child and he admits that Mysaria isn't pregnant. In contrast to those scenes where he neither really confirms or denies the accusations, here he gives a straight answer, he says I told them Aemond, I said no, it was a mistake. Seeing as the last time he was honest about something like this was too Rhaenyra it makes sense to me that he would once again be honest now. I also think given how much he focuses on the mistake aspect of it and on how it shouldn't have been able to happen, I think the part he is guilty of is not being clear enough. I says I was clear in my instructions and he does this sort of laugh of disbelief which makes me think that he is just know realising that he wasn't as clear as he could have been and that he is somewhat responsible for this mistake that has done some damage to Rhaenyra's claim. So I still think, in the show, that it was Aemond and solely Aemond that Daemon put the hit out on. The other possibility is that he did offer up another option like maybe 'just make it a son for a son', but that he believed that if they couldn't find Aemond they'd go after Aegon. Daemon's anger was at Aemond for killing Luke and at Alicent for putting her son on the throne, he wanted Aemond to pay for killing Luke and he wanted Alicent to feel Rhaenyra's pain at losing a son, so I personally don't think he'd have settled for anything less than one of Alicent's sons but really wanted Aemond. But this is all my interpretation and as I said I am sure they'll be many out there that have interpreted it differently. Also all that being said, do I think Daemon cares that Jaehaerys was killed, no probably not. I think he probably does get some satisfaction out of the greens' grief and at having some hand in causing them pain, he's vengeful like that.

Rhaenyra and Baela

I did really like that scene between Rhaenyra and Baela, I think it showed they had a good bond even though Baela was raised on driftmark. I also think the plan of keeping an eye on Kings Landing via dragon back is a good idea so they can spot any moves the greens make. I also understand why Rhaenyra didn't want to let Jace be the one to go, she doesn't want to risk losing him like she lost Luke and is still probably regretting letting them carry the messages themselves. Also it would be somewhat reckless considering Jace is the heir, however I don't see him sitting out for long. I am also curious as to what his reaction to Rhaenyra sending Baela will be, I could see him being very concerned and protective of her, especially after losing his brother. I am glad that Rhaenyra made it clear to Baela that she was to stay high and keep a good distance, though I am still a bit worried for Baela, hopefully nothing happens to her.

Baela and Jace

Speaking of Baela and Jace, I adored that scene between them so much. I just love that having realised that she wasn't at supper he sought her out to make sure she was ok, it's sweet that he clearly missed her company. I also loved the conversation between them about fathers. I really loved that they gave plenty of attention to Laenor and recognised him as Jace's father, it was so sweet seeing that smile on Jace's face as he spoke about him, how he taught them to fish and sing sailor's shanty's, that he loved a cake, I mean who doesn't. But I feel like alot of people overlook the fact that Laenor was their father, yes Harwin was biologically, but it was Laenor who tucked them in at night, who taught them songs etc, he was the one that claimed them and gave them his name. He was their true father.

That being said I also liked that Baela brought up Harwin too, and she did so with no judgement or shame, it showed that trust that exists between them that she felt comfortable asking. Again Jace spoke so fondly of Harwin with that little smile on his face. It was a little said when he said 'I think he loved us', the fact that he wasn't entirely sure because Harwin had to keep his distance a bit for their own safety. But I love how Baela immediately reassured him by saying 'of course he did.' She had this slight look of disbelief on her face like she couldn't imagine anyone not loving Jace.

The scene did become a bit bittersweet at the end though when Jace said he missed Luke, but I am glad that Baela was there to comfort him. I do think this scene was both very cute and heart-warming because it does show how much love Jace has had in his life but also it shows how much loss he has suffered too, and he is still so young. But I am really hoping we get to see more of these two together because they have such great chemistry, think I've got a new HOTD ship.

Possible Important Characters

Speaking of Laenor, I could be wrong, but did we see Seasmoke this episode, because I am sure that was the dragon that flew over the beach when Addam was digging for, clams? Maybe?

Speaking of Addam, we saw a few characters this episode that I think probably will have some significance later. I am sure book readers already know what that significance is but I am currently clueless. I am curious about the brothers Alyn and Addam. Addam kept saying that Corlys owed them, I get that Alyn pulled Corlys from the sea and so that could be why Corlys owes him, but Addam also said that Corlys owes him which makes me think there's more to this than just Alyn saving Corlys life, in what way does Corlys owe Addam who doesn't appear to have been at sea with them when Corlys was injured? There was also this weird kind of tension between Alyn and Corlys in ep 1 so I am very curious to know what that is all about.

Another character we saw again in this episode was Hugh Hammer, I think his name was. Honestly this scene where his wife was talking about having to walk miles to get a chicken and spent three times the price made me flashback to covid when you had to go to several stores to try and find what you needed and where you had people bulk buying toilet paper and hand sanitiser then selling it on amazon and ebay at extortionate prices. All this focus on the hardship on the small folk though does make me wonder if there is going to be a revolt at some point, I could see them getting real tired of being collateral in this targaryen war. I really hope Hugh's daughter is going to be ok though because she really did look sick and I could see her dying, Aegon not paying the money he promised and that causing Hugh to lead a revolt against the royals.

Whatever happens though, I am excited to see more of these characters and what the story has entail for them.

Criston Cole

Sorry to all Criston Cole fans but this episode really did remind me of how much I hated him and why. I mean every scene he was in made me burn with rage. We had people asking him the right questions to, Aegon asking him where he was, I mean technically he didn't lie when he said he was abed, its just it was alicent's bed he was in not his own. Then there was Ayrrk asking the very good question of why Helaena didn't have a sworn shield asigned to her, something that should have happened when she ascended as queen. So it looks like once again, surprise surprise, Cole hasn't done his job properly, as Commander of the Kings Guard it would be his responsibility to assign that Sworn Shield and he just didn't, he what, just forgot? Either way it does explain why Helaena was able to go all the way from her quarters to Alicent's without seeing any guard, their should have been one right outside her door, shadowing her every move, but Criston Cole had better things to do than assign Helaena the protection she obviously needed, apparently.

I also hated the scene when he confronts Arryk about his white cloak having dirt on it and goes off about how its a symbol of their purity, virtue and honour or some such. I mean hypocrite, it was so clear that Cole was projecting his own guilt and shame onto Arryk, I also didn't like how he was trying to put the blame for Jaehaerys' death onto Arryk acting like it was his fault somehow when he was where he was supposed to be as Aegon's sworn shield.

Which brings us to Criston's plan of parent trapping the blacks in order to kill Rhaenyra. He wants Arryk to pretend to be his twin to gain access to Dragon Stone and kill her. In theory I can see how this plan might work, but its still very reckless as Erryk is still there, all it would take was someone seeing them both at the same time, them seeing the other, or even a guard passing one and then another moments later, for the whole plan to fall apart. I mean that is what happens, Mysaria has just left Erryk when she sees Arryk coming up the hill and figures out what is happen, it seems like she might then have sent a warning to Erryk who was able to intercept his brother. But one thing was clear to me and that's that Cole didn't care at all if Arryk was killed in this mission. He was blatantly using Arryk in his own revenge fantasy against Rhaenyra. The thing that is disturbing about this is that the Kings Guard are supposed to be sworn brothers, they're supposed to have a bond and be loyal to each other, but Cole just throws Arryk under the proverbial bus.

Another moment that annoyed me to no end and got my blood boiling is when he says that 'its time the bitch queen paid'. I already made a post about this right after I watched the episode i was that infuriated by it, because Rhaenyra has paid, she has already lost so much, her mother, her friendship with alicent, harwin, laenor in a way, her father, her unborn daughter, her son and her throne. Like what else does he want her to lose, to pay. Apparently her life. So yeah I hate Criston Cole sorry not sorry.

Erryk and Arryk.

This whole situation was so heartbreaking, just the idea of two brothers pitted against each other is sad. What I will say is that they played this sequence very well. It really built the tension up as you watch Arryk playing this game of cat and mouse with Erryk, creeping through the halls of Dragon Stone, coming so close to nearly being caught. Then its racked up again when the maid says she'll bring a draft for Rhaenyra and you're thinking is she going to drink it and not awake with Arryk's attack. Then you see Arrky make it into Rhaenyra's bedchambers and approach her with his sword drawn, then his brother comes in and their fight ensues, there is a moment when Rhaenyra is trying to get away and Arryk swings the sword at her and nearly gets her, she gets to the door but its locked, then the other Kings Guard arrives to protect Rhaenyra but now we don't know which twin is which. You have that awful and really heartbreaking moment when one of the twins says we were born together and the other replies you parted us, but I still love you brother, before making that terrible choice to kill his brother. It is clear that the twin that survived was overcome with guilt and grief at having killed his brother, there is also the fact that we can't trust that the surviving twin is Erryk, then he falls on his sword and its just so tragic.

This scene really did make you feel that impending danger and it cranked up the tension perfectly. I kept thinking after last episode what it was about the Blood and Cheese scene that felt so off, because it wasn't that it needed more gore, honestly thank goodness it didn't have more because the sounds were horrifying enough, it also wasn't Phia's acting because she did an amazing job of showing Helaena's terror in that moment. But I think it was this, the tension just wasn't built up properly, they rushed through the scene and dialogue so quickly that you didn't really have time to feel that tension, to sense that danger they were all in. I think they needed to take a beat and drag the scene out a bit more. Like have Helaena pause longer before pointing to the boy, maybe Cheese has to threaten her again before she chooses. Maybe they could have had blood and cheese debate over which one was which a little longer. Maybe they both move over to the girls bed, maybe the dagger is near her throat, but then Cheese looks back at Helaena and realises that she was telling true, maybe Blood argues with him a little, maybe Helaena tries to get to the boy but is intercepted, then they have blood and cheese move to the boy and that's when Helaena grabs Jaehaera and runs. I just think if they had taken a bit more time with it, the audience would have had more time to feel the tension and fear and danger, but hey maybe its just me.

What I do think is symbolic though is that the first deaths of the war are Luke and Jaehaerys. Two children, two sons, two innocents. I think this is to show that in war it is the innocents who suffer. Then the next deaths dealt to each side are the brothers, Arryk and Erryk, again I think this is very symbolic of how this war is tearing families apart, how its setting siblings and other family members against each other.

Otto and His Really Bad Day.

This was another element of the episode that I probably wasn't supposed to find funny yet still did, I mean the facial expressions this man way giving just kept cracking me up. He was so done with everyone. I did understand his frustration at Aegon and Criston. Killing the rat catchers was a stupid move, most were innocent and in one move Aegon undid all the sympathy they had gained from Jaehaerys' funeral procession. On top of that it rendered the torment that Alicent and even more so Helaena went through trying to gain that sympathy and that advantage over Rhaenyra. It was also very unnecessary. If they were able to round all the rat catchers up in order to hang them then they could have just as easily had them brought before Helaena for her to identify Cheese. Instead they've given the small folk a reason to hate them.

I also thought the look on Otto's face when Aegon said Cole had taken action. That slow 'and what has Cole done?' showed that he was really dreading the answer. It was clear that he knew the plan wasn't going to work. I would feel bad for him but I do feel like he is reaping what he has sown. He was the one who put Aegon on throne without giving him any training or preparation because he believed that Aegon would be controllable like his father.

That being said that line 'he was right about you' was a low blow by Otto, but he's not wrong if we are being honest. Still it must have hurt for Aegon to hear. Also the way Otto laughed when Aegon said Viserys had made him King, they all know that Viserys didn't want Aegon to be King, which again I think is something that plagues Aegon.

I'm not surprised that Aegon fired Otto, and his not again face was comical. Aegon then naming Cole I think is a huge mistake, I am still in disbelief that this guy even still has a job and here he is getting a promotion, mind boggling.

Daeron?

So apparently Alicent has another son, which did we know that? I feel like we didn't know that. I do think its interesting that he's the only child that isn't in Kings Landing, like why is he the only one that was sent to Old Town? I do have a theory but it could be/ likely is completely wrong.

But here's the thing, we don't know exactly when Alicent's sexual relationship with Cole actually started. It could have been after Viserys died, or it could have been years earlier, or maybe it happened once years earlier and they swore they wouldn't do it again, then caved after Viserys died.

A lot of babies are sometimes born with really light hair that gets darker as they get older. When I was a baby until I was about 3-4 years old my hair was white blonde, then it got a bit darker to a more mousy blonde when I was a child and then darker still when I was a teen to a dark blonde/light brown. I've seen it happen alot with other babies too where they start out light but get very dark hair later. SO here's the theory, what if Daeron is actually Cole's son. He was born with white blonde hair and Alicent was relieved thinking oh ok the baby is Viserys, but then as Daeron starts to get older Alicent starts to notice that his hair is starting to darken. She panics and then arranges for her son to be sent to Oldtown so that the memory people in Kings Landing have of him in the typical targaryen blonde hair.

It could also explain why Alicent is so obsessed with Rhaenyra's eldest sons being bastards, she's projecting her own guilt and shame onto Rhaenyra just like Cole was doing with Arryk. Like I said I could be totally wrong about this, but if that guy shows up with dark hair I am going to be suspicious as hell.

No Comfort To Be Had

One thing that did strike me about the greens in this episode is how little they comfort one another. It's in stark contrast to the blacks who mostly banded together in their grief and comforted each other, sort each other out, like Jace and Baela. Whereas with the greens they all kind of isolate themselves and each deal with their grief alone and not necessarily in the healthiest of ways.

That scene on the staircase between Aegon and Helaena was sad because its clear they are both in pain and Helaena seems to want Aegon to comfort her, but as always, he ignores her. But in this case it did look for a moment like he wanted to say something, wanted to offer some comfort but just didn't know how to do that, so instead he just walked away as Helaena gave this sad nod of acceptance.

We see Helaena isolate herself in her room and cling to the things that remind her of her son, his cloak or blanket that she was embroidering, the toy he used to play with.

Aegon also isolates himself alone so that he can grieve. I actually felt some sympathy for him in that ending scene where he was sobbing for his son, he clearly loved his son and is in a lot of pain. I mean its not enough for me to forget about the child fighting rings or what he did to dyana but it was still interesting seeing him in a more human and complex light.

Meanwhile Aemond takes himself off to the brothel and the madame that he lost his virginity to at the mature age of 13. I mean this does make sense in a way, he probably sees her in this weird motherly type way, someone he can get comfort and affection from, but the scene in still uncomfortable, as I think it is supposed to be.

We see Alicent walk away from Aegon instead of comforting him. At first I thought maybe it was because she doesn't know how to comfort him, but we have seen her comforting people in the past, she comforted both the king and rhaenyra after Aemma's death, we see her comfort Criston in 1x05, and Helaena in this episode. But I think what is telling is her interactions with Otto this episode. Their first scene together is Otto saying they shouldn't let Jaehaerys death shake them and that good may still come of it, when Alicent breaks down in sobs he offers very little comfort to her. Then later right before the scene of her leaving Aegon, she tries to confess to Otto and hopes for some comfort from him and instead he just brushes her off. So I think this moment shows how that lack of emotional support between Otto and Alicent has trickled down to Alicent's own children. Because she never got the proper emotional support and comfort from her father growing up, she was ill equipped to provide that same support and comfort to her children.

The part where is becomes an issue for me though is when she then goes and immediately sleeps with Cole, I think some might interpret this as Alicent being cold and uncaring about Aegon and as someone who is just chasing her own pleasure instead.

Ok that is all for this time, I'll be back next week to see what other shananegans these Targaryens are going to get up to. So I will see you all then.

[gigakoops]

Immediate Thoughts On Final Fantasy VII Rebirth (as someone who's never played the original FFVII)

I've never played the original Final Fantasy VII, and only have a vague idea of certain story beats (in fact most of what I knew prior to Remake was about a certain pivotal scene I'm sure everyone knows about by now). When I played through Remake, though I was surprised how goofy a lot of the side stuff was, and honestly I was all for it. And the actual story and characters were highly engrossing, and I ended up truly invested by the time the end credits came around. So obviously, I had to play Part 2 when it came out!

And wowie, was it worth it! Honestly it's been a long time since I've enjoyed a game this much (in fact, I think this is up there with Silent Hills 1-3 and Undertale in terms of favorite games, at least at the moment of writing). I've been doing my best to avoid spoilers of the original game, so a lot of the story beats probably hit a lot harder for me as someone witnessing them for the first time, in the format of a middle entry in a trilogy that takes its time to truly establish its central characters, and probably adds a bit to their backstories.

What really did it for me, though, was the side content. When I first started the game I honestly didn't feel it at first, but then I tried some Queens Blood, and was like "Alright, I at least like this minigame!" I was a little less enthralled with the towers you need to climb, but the fact that they then lead to more interesting points of interest around the world makes them worth it. (Also honestly even the towers grew on me once they started adding more to getting to them, despite some frustrations in certain parts of the game surrounding them).

But the protorelic side-quests, side-missions and minigames are where it truly shines. I've seen some mixed reception of certain minigames (especially Fort Condor and the psuedo-Rocket League one), but I ended up enjoying those as well. And to be honest, the cutscenes that go along with these minigames are totally worth it. I got really invested in the aforementioned Queens Blood, as well as Chocobo Racing, ending up 100% both of these.

In fact, the overall very silly tone for a lot of this game was a breath of fresh air, and exactly what I needed during times of high anxiety in my personal life. And to be honest, after the grimdark tone of FFXVI I'm glad to see this entry was willing to just be as zany as possible. And it also helped me care more about the characters and world more. I want to protect this goofy little world, and I want this loveable cast to succeed.

It also made the more serious moments hit harder. I won't go into specifics here, but there are definitely heavier parts, as well as parts that moved me to tears. When this game hits hard, it hits hard. Especially most of the endgame had me highly emotional. And while I won't go into detail, I personally think the way they went about things works really well. Again, never played the original.

Overall, I'm very glad I've played through this, and I look forward to Part 3, in a few years from now likely after Kingdom Hearts 4.

P.S.: The moogles are good actually, and Cait Sith is the best character.

[ragnar0c]

Gonna talk about my main guild too... I gotta...

Yes, it's going to be long, the effects this game has had on me... LISTEN...

Anyway... I'll try to not say anything I'll regret since... I am writing about these characters.

1. Alope

Did you know I am Alope's BIGGEST HATER?? Jk I love her sm, it's just that since she's a gladiator she's prone to missing a lot when I need HER

But she also comes in clutch the most. Nine smashes when she has TWO target goggles on + pop flares + she actually smashes 9 TIMES??? Amazing!! LET ME TELL YOU, THE TIMES SHE LANDS CONFUSION??? I never doubted you once girl!! (I doubted her the whole time.)

During a fight I used to have a ridiculously hard time on with each new guild, she landed confusion twice in a row and made the poor thing unable to move AT ALL. She is *chef's kiss*

I yell at her a lot bc during all the dragon fights, she is stunned over and over to the point where she can't hit much, but I realized that no other offense class would be able to take that many hits...

She used to be the highest leveled before post game, but slipped up in some unfortunate times (mostly right before the enemies would die) but she is her own unit and I love her for that.

2. Ignis

I picked his portrait bc my old guilds were primarily femme little kids. Let's spice it up! Old man!!

I usually tried to avoid hoplites and would sub a princess as one ( a MISTAKE). The game is just so much easier with him. Tho his subclass is a little weird, it made it easy for exploration.

He's a Hoplite. He never does anything wrong anything bad that happens is MY FAULT NOT HIS!! (Or its everyone else's)

I've almost maxed out his parry skills and hes been doing so well!

Whenever he got koed I felt bad, it's always last minute so he got robbed of EXP a lot. I also tried to replace him due to his subclass, but he came out to be the better hoplite in the end.

Only bad thing I can think about (besides his subclass which isnt really THAT bad) is how I maxed out anti fire and volt before anti ice which made the beginning of the post game awful since almost every postgame boss has an aoe ice skill.

3. Tank

The power crawl this man had... he was okay damage at first. I think now if he's set up correctly he can do several thousand damage a turn.

He ALWAYS COMES IN CLUTCH !! ESPECIALLY AGAINST THE DRAKE'S ICE WALL SKILL!!

He's never done ANYTHING WRONG. (Actually when he's confused he has a habit of killing Enid??? That's pretty wrong. But idk maybe Enid deserves it. Oh yeah... and his alcoholism... that's bad too SJSKSK)

Tank is notoriously one of the last ones standing when my guild gets f-ed over. Which put him over Hana and Alope for highest leveled. (He survived a few tough fights they didn't.) But they're close behind him!

I also picked his portrait in retaliation to my girls only phase. My first Arbalist, whom I never used, was named "Tanaku". I named Tank after her.

4. Enid

Fun fact, Enid was in older versions of Ragnarok but was a different gender and or character each time. So gender fluid!!

Enid does their job, unless they don't...

Enid has a thing that when they get bound or have an ailment they'll be stuck that was for 5 million years which has got to be the most annoying thing... (other than my fingers slipping and picking the wrong skills) but I just prioritize defending him more.

I have him equipped with the speed dagger bc Enid HAS to move first. The times I've forgotten that thing and got wiped is... oddly high.

She's also with Tank for the last one standing. (Best friends till the end) an example of this was the Anemone fight where the both of them had to frantically bring Hana back to deal damage. (I'm not writing that fight so it's not a spoiler.)

THEYRE SO GOOFY.

More recently, when Alope and Hana get koed, Enid, Tank, and Ignis have a party set up that can kill a super boss with just the three of them.

5. Hana

(Her stats are in the previous post, I ran out room so pretend they are here!!)

The OG. She remains the offense ever, even with Tank. Enemies remember her patterns just to stop HER. And when they slip up and focus on hindering another member she obliterates them. (Probably full of rage too.)

She's just a real champ and pulls through so often it's normal. Though... recently her Berserker vow puts her in danger.

She always has the last hit, especially against bosses. She recovers from ailments the fastest too... (Her, Ignis, and Tank.)

She also has two fighting styles, which is nice bc the other two fighters spam the same move over and over. And the Elemental scrolls too... she is just so fun to play as.

...

Anyway, hands down my fav guild to play as. EO3's enemies are just so quirky by reading my inputs I come back to it more than the other games.

I might buy EO2 or the original bc... I don't know the untolds felt weird and I didn't get as attached to my guilds as I did for EO3 and EO4.

But yeah. I kinda... don't know what to do with myself now. I cleared the game I hadn't in like NINE YEARS it feels funky.

I need a fix of smt else... or this will fester in my mind LMAO!!

[rookie-critic]

Barbie (2023, dir. Greta Gerwig) - review by Rookie-Critic

[NOTE: This ended up being a bit more spoiler-y than I had originally intended, so if you haven't seen the film and plan to, maybe skip this review for now.]

What a revolution this movie has caused. Waves of pink, hoards of men/women/people adopting "I am Kenough" as a mantra, the Indigo Girls are back in fashion, and I have no doubt that, come the beginning of the university school year, we'll see frat after frat moving into their new Mojo Dojo Casa Houses. This film had already won the country over well before it even came out, and now that it is we're now in the third consecutive weekend of Barbie sitting comfortably atop the box office throne. Those ninja turtles never stood a chance (though I did adore that film, as well, but that's for another review). I must admit, I am apart of the wave of people singing this film's praises. It's visually striking, it's hilarious, the messaging is overt and in-your-face without being preachy, and we're seeing Margot Robbie and Ryan Gosling at the top of their game.

When we start the film, we're greeted with a nod to the opening sequence of Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey, and to the voice of Helen Mirren explaining to us that, once Barbie came along and squashed out the era of baby dolls, her existence solved sexism and female quality issues for good, because Barbie proved that women can be anything. Of course, this is not the case, and the film uses it's next hour and 45 minutes diving into the reality of the modern world through the eyes of one of those dolls. The perfect, pink-streaked world of Barbieland lies in stark contrast to the harsh realities of the real world, and our two main characters react to this knowledge in very different ways. First, we have Barbie, who reacts with bewilderment and disbelief at the idea that everything she thought she knew about the world and women's place in it was a lie, but then, there's Ken. Ken, having lived his whole in the perceived service of Barbie, is stoked, because of course he would be. Men (and horses) rule the world, of course.

Now, going down this path, it would have been very easy for the film to be very blanketly "anti-men," but it even manages to avoid doing that, instead choosing to go down the path that Ken is misguided, merely a person who's never really tried to live life for himself and more for the idea of what he should be. In that the film draws a surprising amount of parallels between the two main characters, because even Barbie goes on a self-discovery journey of sorts. She has to come to terms with the black-and-whiteness of her worldview, and has to reconcile with the idea of there being things like cellulite and aging, and has to come to terms with the fact that the world has a good fair way to go before it's as utopian as a place like Barbieland. This is all accented in a scene that's relatively early in the film when Barbie meets an older woman for the first time upon coming to the real world. Barbie has just cried for the first time and looks over to find an elderly woman sitting on the bench next to here. The woman gives Barbie a smile and Barbie tells her she's beautiful, to which she replies "I know!" It's kind of the pin on which the whole film balances. Then there's also the character of Allan (played with as much endearing awkwardness as you'd expect from Michael Cera) who, even when all of the Ken's go off the deep-end into a Matchbox Twenty, leather-clad nightmare, keeps his head, and understands the bad things about what the Kens are doing.

It's a very deep film that is presenting itself as a colorful comedy, it's thoughtful without being obtuse and critical of its source without being dismissive, and it manages to do all of this without sacrificing being a very lighthearted and entertaining film on the surface. It's all very impressive, and is only hindered by the small nitpick that, for a film focusing on how our preconceived notions of things need to be knocked down and we should all live for ourselves and be whoever we really are, it is strangely reinforcing of the gender binary. I would have liked to have seen the film explore that side of things a bit, but it didn't detract too much from the overall experience. Crybabies like Ben Shapiro be damned, Barbie is delightful, and just as good as you've been led to believe.

Score: 9/10

Currently only in theaters.

[ideas-on-paper]

Why I love Mass Effect 1's gameplay (spoiler-free review)

Very recently, I completed my first ever playthrough of Mass Effect 1 - a well renown, beloved game that has nevertheless received quite harsh criticisms for its gameplay. The somewhat rough-around the edges shooter gameplay, the confusing inventory system and frustrating Mako controls were the most common complaints, some of which BioWare addressed in the recent Legendary Edition remake of ME1.

Still, after some extensive research, I decided to buy the old trilogy version anyway (call me oldschool if you like, but I'm a bigger fan of some of the OG light effects) - and imagine my surprise when despite having signed up for a somewhat more tedious gameplay experience, I came to actually enjoy it. In fact, I think ME1 does a lot of things right that other RPGs do wrong - to this day, I might add. For analysis purposes, I will be using the game NieR: Automata (© SquareEnix/Platinum Games, 2017) as a comparison, mainly because I played these two games back to back.

The level system

One thing I absolutely loathe about modern RPGs is how you can essentially break the game by overleveling yourself - not by conscious grinding, but by simply knowing what you're doing. While the level of some enemies in Nier Automata - especially during Route A - may seem daunting at first, all of this can be completely bypassed with the help of one little trinket: the EXP+ chip. While the effect may not be immediate, you will eventually reach the point where you surpass everything the game throws at you in terms of strength - by nothing more than understanding and making use of the game's mechanics. Nier Automata tried to remedy that by introducing a level scaling system, and while this worked out fine in Route B, it appears the developers were too lazy to properly implement it during the endgame: In Route C, all of the enemies are stuck at level 50 (60 for some bosses), so they really were no match for me at level 95. At some point, I got tired of all enemies keeling over if I so much as blew in their general direction, which was one of the reasons why Route C just felt so lackluster to me.

Because of this, I decided to play Mass Effect 1 on Veteran difficulty from the start, just so I don't accidentally make the game too easy for me again (despite having never played a shooter before, lol). However, little did I know there was no need to worry, because somewhat miraculously, Mass Effect 1 manages to avoid any kind of level exploit entirely: The reason for that is that unlike in many other RPGs (including Nier Automata), leveling up doesn't give you an inherent boost to your attack/defense - instead, you have to allot points to specific skills to improve your base values. However, while a little bonus to your stats certainly helps, it's the combat skills that you should focus on: To gain the upper hand in battle, you have to make use of abilities such as temporary damage immunity, overloading the enemies' shields or making them more vulnerable to your attacks. Although this means that you will be spamming abilities pretty much non-stop, you don't have to worry about robbing yourself of any challenge, as the game will keep you on your toes from the first battle right until the final boss. Also, since the level cap is set at 50, you can't simply max out all of your skills, which acts as a nice counterbalance and compels you to distribute your points wisely. (Imagine if the level cap in Nier Automata would've been 50 - perhaps that would've made the endgame actually challenging.)

Another thing I really appreciate is that the equipment you find is always appropriate to your current level. This is because once you start a mission, land on a planet or enter a facility, the equipment you can loot is randomly generated on the spot (you can see this if you revisit a place you went to before but didn't loot: the items will always match the level you were at during your first visit). This not only prevents you from potentially finding an OP weapon early on which you can solo the whole game with, but also the awkward situation of stumbling into "low-level" sidequest when you can no longer use the items you get from them. Also, since the enemies' strength relies just as much on equipment as your own, you always fight on pretty even ground, which means you will neither run into an overpowered squad too strong for you nor an underleveled group which goes down faster than a cardboard wall. Now, that's a way to implement proper level scaling.

The game economy

Another problem that many games suffer from is that you get tons of money, but have next to no opportunity to actually spend it on anything. In the first half of Nier Automata, the "Half-wit Inventor" quest may give a motivation to invest your money into something, but once you accumulated the 180,000 G, pretty much all you need money for is buying and upgrading your weapons, and finding the materials to do the latter is generally more of an issue. The one really cost-intensive thing you need currency for is fusing chips, but since the max chip level is 6 and your capacity is limited anyway, you will arrive at the point where you neither can nor want to upgrade your chips any further. As one might guess, this resulted in me amassing huge amounts of money (in no small part due to my extensive fishing trips), but since there was nothing that I could spend it on, the numbers didn't do much besides looking good.

Mass Effect, on the other hand, possesses a very effective game economy which gives you ample opportunities to make use of the money you earned - if you're focused on optimization, that is. Even though you will find plenty of equipment lying around, it's worth checking the shops from time to time, since they sometimes offer items slightly above your current level. Of course, the prices are accordingly high, and I often had to use almost all the money I made by mining minerals, looting chests/safes, etc.

I will say though that ME1 lacks any unique weapons - ultimately, there are 1-3 "high-end" items for each equipment category (often with marginal differences in stats), while all the other inferior products can simply be disregarded. This means that you usually want to pick the best weapons and armor possible and pimp them with mods as much as you can, while the rest of the stuff is there just for selling. However, even though this may be a bit of a chore, it actually benefits the game economy as a whole: Right before the final mission, I bought a high-end armor for Wrex and two level 10 mods at the Emporium on the Citadel, almost exhausting my entire money reserves - something which wouldn't have been possible without the few extra credits I made by selling superfluous equipment to the outfitter on the ship. The only criticism I have is that there is no "sort by" filter for the selling screen (e.g. selecting that you want to sell shotguns, assault rifles, etc. instead of the standard arrangement by item level) - that would've made things less tedious and time-consuming.

Saving

This may sound silly, but one thing I honestly perceived as such a quality of life improvement when I started playing Mass Effect is that you can not only save literally everywhere, but you will also continue exactly where you left off upon loading. In Nier Automata - and quite a few other games for that matter - you can either only save at certain checkpoints, or the game will automatically place you next to the nearest checkpoint upon loading your save (which may be a fair walking distance away from where you actually left off). However, in Mass Effect, you won't find yourself in the general vicinity of where you last saved, but at the exact same spot - a true blessing that spares you a lot of backtracking and frustration. (I know some people like to call this "save-scumming", but believe me, when one of your squadmates can't join you in battle because they got stuck behind a closed door - which happened to me with Wrex on Noveria - you will thank every god in existence that you're able to load a recent save game.)

Exploration and sidequests

If there's one aspect where Nier Automata and Mass Effect are actually tied, I'd say it's the open world exploration. All criticisms aside, the environments of Nier Automata are a true highlight, and I spent hours walking around just enjoying the scenery, atmosphere, and music. Although Mass Effect is understandably more limited in the graphical department due to its release in 2007, the extraterrestrial landscapes nevertheless manage to look truly captivating, and I had fun taking screenshots of some of my favorite views. However, while you usually explore the world of Nier Automata on foot (or with a mount of your choice), you inevitably will have to use the Mako for Mass Effect's planet-bound missions. Admittedly, the Mako has absolutely earned its reputation as a bouncy vehicle with next to no roadholding, and the physics of that thing are occasionally quite insane. Still, from my experience, it's not completely uncontrollable, and as long as you don't drive like a madman and try to avoid steep terrain, you should be fine - unless you have no other choice than to vertically drive up a cliff (P.S. I hate you Eletania).

Nevertheless, my little excursions in both Nier Automata and Mass Effect ended up having a similar, very relaxing effect on me - which is something that actually surprised even myself, since I'm usually not the biggest fan of open world games. I guess that's because a lot of them tend to have huge, overwhelming maps, and while having the biggest open world is something like a "status symbol" among game developers these days, it doesn't really do anything except making me feel lost and confused. Meanwhile, the free-roaming areas of Nier Automata and Mass Effect are quite spacious, but not so large that you lose any kind of orientation. Also, another thing many open world games do (and that really annoys me) is that they simply put a bunch of symbols on your map for you to traipse around, which is really nothing more than an employment-creation measure for the player. In contrast, Nier Automata and Mass Effect deliberately avoid putting all points of interest on the map - instead, you have to find chests, minerals, and all kinds of other treasures by yourself. While this may be perceived as "userunfriendly" by some players, I think it actually encourages you to go out there and explore, and the feeling of being rewarded for your own curiosity is immensely satisfying - a thousand times better than having everything served on a silver platter.

Last but not least, although Nier Automata is the one that always gets praised for its ambivalent, disturbing sidequests - and rightfully so (in fact, you could say I enjoyed the sidequests more than the main story) - Mass Effect is in no way inferior to it: Just like in Nier Automata, there are sidequests which really make you feel pensive and empty by the end. Personally, "Citadel: Signal Tracking" and "UNC: Geth Incursions" were the ones that unsettled me the most, but "UNC: Missing Survey Team", "UNC: Dead Scientists", and "UNC: Besieged Base" are also runners-up. In general, many of the quests ultimately leave you wondering "what did I actually do right now?" and whether your actions were justified - it truly feels like an insolvable aporia with no right or wrong solution, the only difference being your own moral perspective.

Furthermore, I think it's noteworthy how sidequests are utilized in both of these games from a storytelling perspective. If you take Witcher 3, for example, you will notice that the game tries to make its sidequests into their own independent storylines - a story in a story, so to speak. Meanwhile, the approach of Nier Automata and Mass Effect is completely different: Instead of treating its sidequests as separate entities, they act as little snippets presenting themes and topics that tie directly into the main narrative, enhancing the story as a whole. Together, all these pieces form an intricate, well-constructed web, making up the essence of the story when viewed in its entirety - a strategy which I personally find way more appealing.

---

Conclusion

Despite feeling a bit dated, Mass Effect 1's gameplay still holds up surprisingly well - in fact, the game manages to avoid a lot of pitfalls that many RPGs struggle with even today. Thus, I think the first entry of BioWare's hit series truly sets the standard for what is a good RPG, being an example that all game developers should learn some valuable lessons from.

[morningstarfall]

Chocolate Frogs and Scarves (3/6)

Rating: General

Warnings: Some spoilers for the end of the game. Minor mentions of injuries.

Part 3 of 6

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Lazily running a hand through Persephone’s fur, Poppy’s face grew increasingly somber as Blaine recounted the story of the last few days. He had been anxiously awaiting a moment to be able to speak with Poppy. That morning, Professor Howin had allowed their class to spend time with the Beasts unsupervised until the hour was over. Poppy and Blaine had moved away from the rest of their classmates to an area where they could speak without being overheard.

The pair sat under the shade of a tree with Persephone curled into a ball on Poppy’s lap and a Niffler on his. The little mischievous thing was trying to tug on Blaine’s cravat likely interested by its gold colored cord. He gently nudged it away as he huffed out a sigh. His head rested against the bark of the tree and he closed his eyes wishing desperately he could find the answers to all his problems somewhere in the clouds.

“Have you spoken to Garreth since that argument in Divination? I would think he’d be desperate to apologize and set things straight,” Poppy finally spoke up. She turned to look at Blaine.

Blaine scratched at the Niffler’s head and was rewarded by a grateful squeak.

“He’s tried to speak to me in the Common Room, but I’ve avoided him. I feel embarrassed. I overreacted, I think. If I was the one that broke things off, I can’t keep getting emotional when he reminds me he never saw me as anything serious. I’m no different than his other conquests,” Blaine looked down at his lap, “Maybe I am clingy.”

“I doubt he meant it Blaine,” Poppy chided, “And you know that. The two of you are practically two halves of the same whole. He knows that. I’m not a legilimens, so I can’t just read his mind and tell you for certain…but I know he feels something for you too. He’s probably just frightened. It’s easier for you to date. Your mother is a muggle. Anything she hears back is only going to come from a letter. Garreth is related to Professor Weasley. She always has an ear out for news of him. Anything he does will reach her by the time the sun sets.”

There was a lot of truth to her words. Somewhere, a part of him knew it. Still, that didn’t stop the ache deep in his chest. It was a pulsing wound that grew with every day that passed.

A silence formed between the two. Blaine turned her words over and over in his head. The Niffler on his lap dug around his pocket for his wand and tried to slip it into his pouch. He barely managed to pull it free.

“What do you think I should do? Should I just clear the air? Corner him somewhere and explain things? Or wait until he finds me next and listen?”

Poppy rested her head on top of Persephone’s. Her voice sounded muffled through her fur, “That’s the big question isn’t it? If it were me, I’d want to take the first step. He’s your friend, and you clearly miss him. Why not just take the leap? You’re a Gryffindor. It should be no more terrifying to speak to him than everything else you’ve faced.”

A humorless laugh left his lips.

“You’d be surprised. I find the prospect of sharing my feelings much more terrifying than any poacher. At least death is final. Heartbreak feels like it’ll go on forever.”

A hand self consciously went to his chest where his heart was. Every day since he had ended things with Garreth, he felt himself slinking further and further down into sadness. Everything reminded him of Garreth from the sunrise to the stars in the sky.

It hadn’t been easy to break things off. He had stewed and pondered for a long time trying to talk himself out of it. Logic knew that holding on so tightly to someone intent on keeping him a secret would only delay the inevitable. There was no path that didn’t end in heartbreak when it came to being someone’s covert lover. Despite this, it had been terrifying to let go.

In the few years that they had known each other, Garreth and Blaine had intertwined their lives tightly. There was no reality in which the two of them were not together. Their names had practically merged into one word with the people around them seldom speaking one without the other. They had grown so closely connected with Garreth introducing him to his family and Blaine his mother that pulling free seemed nearly impossible. Letting go meant losing a piece of himself he deeply mourned.

And that had been when a fragile friendship remained. After this? After his plan had gone into motion, Blaine wasn’t sure anything remained.

“See,” he began, “I know you’re right. You’re always right. I just don’t know how. The Quidditch game is tomorrow, and we won’t have time until then to speak. I need to figure out what to say and how.”

“Are you going to tell him the truth? Or keep up the lie?” Poppy bluntly asked.

Blaine hesitated.

In the days that had passed, Imelda and him had been hard at work at The Lie. His pretend girlfriend had sold it well. She had joined him in classes that they shared and been a great actress. Blaine had played along if only to keep the ruse going. Perhaps if he devoted himself to his craft, he’d fully close the door on whatever non-relationship he had, had with Garreth which would allow him to move on.

“Well I can’t tell him the truth now,” Blaine closed his eyes, “It would look terrible and defeat the purpose. I’ll just have to keep things vague. Deny what I can’t admit and admit to what I can’t deny.”

Poppy made a humming sound.

“That’s a dangerous road to walk. Are you sure you both won’t get burned by the end of it?”

He could feel her gaze on him even with his eyes closed. Merlin, he wished she wasn’t always right. The road he walked was dangerous, and it had already left a lot of ruin in its wake…

But what was the alternative?

He opened his eyes in time to see the Niffler pocketing some of his knuts. Silently cursing, he grabbed it by the legs and dangled it upside down. His money fell out of its pouch as well as a few other treasures. Poppy made a sound when she realized her compact mirror had been stolen without her knowledge.

“You know what really hurts? I would have taken it if he had just been honest. I could have waited forever to be with him because I love him that much,” Blaine grit his teeth, “But he didn’t get it. He didn’t get how hurtful it was to see him use girls or dismiss me. He didn’t get why I was so upset and acted like I should just tough it out. I couldn’t stand by and watch it anymore. At some point, I had to learn to have some self respect.”

He set the Niffler down, and it desperately tried to shove its hoard back into its pouch. After it had recovered most of its treasure, it scurried away affronted back to Professor Howin on the other side of the field. He watched it go only half paying attention.

“That would have killed you eventually,” Poppy murmured quietly.

Blaine shrugged.

“I would have taken it. That’s how in love I am, but I couldn’t do that to myself. At some point I realized the relationship we had back then hurt more than it felt right.”

Poppy brought her knees up to her chest. Persephone rolled onto the grass between them and let Blaine rub her head.

“You want my advice? Tell him how much he means to you. Even if you decide that this is it, and that it’s over, he deserves to know. If this plan of yours was meant for closure, you need to actually have a conversation to get that closure. Tell him everything that’s on your mind and listen to his,” she advised.

Blaine opened his mouth to reply when Professor Howin called the class back. Her wand shot up a bright basic cast into the air to catch their attention. The pair slowly got up and began dusting their clothes of grass.

“I will,” Blaine hesitated, “I just need to rehearse it. Think the enchanted mirror in the girl’s lavatory will let me practice on it?”

It was a poor joke. Poppy smiled softly to reward his effort and stuck her hands into her robe pockets.

“Well, at the very least, it’ll tell you if you look good saying it.”

———

The next morning, Blaine woke up bright and early. The quidditch game was in a few hours and the team had decided to run some last minute drills. Garreth was long since gone as usual as he dressed.

In his 6th year, Black had reversed his decision on Quidditch. While the Headmaster officially claimed that he had decided the game was now safe to return out of his own careful study of it, the reality was that the sport association had cracked down on. It seems the letter Blaine had goaded Madam Kogawa into wiring back during his Polyjuice potion experience in 5th year had done the trick.

Blaine had received the position of Keeper after trying out for the team. The Gryffindor team was captained by Natty as Seeker and Garreth had received the role of Beater. While Slytherin was stronger overall due to Imelda’s tutelage and some good recruits, Gryffindor had a good fight and could win if they played as well as they did their last match with Ravenclaw.

As he did before any game, Blaine ate a light breakfast that wouldn’t weigh him down on his broom and carried a duffel bag with his uniform. Nestled among the Gryffindor red was Imelda’s green scarf. She had reminded him last night as he had walked her down to her Common Room of her second condition.

He wondered how the crowd would react. There was no rule per se about wearing the opponent’s colors on the field, but it was definitely not something anyone had even tried before. Perhaps Madam Kogawa would make him remove it or Natty would ask him to change.

Most of the team had already gathered in their respective changing room. Natty sat on a bench near the entrance in full uniform with a piece of parchment going over last minute plans. Lucan was at her side as she strategized and offered his own input as co-captain. Now a 4th year, it was expected he would inherit the team after Natty graduated which meant he had to study closely under her.

Blaine spotted Garreth near the corner of the room. He was tightening on the straps of his gloves. Their eyes met and Garreth opened his mouth to offer a greeting, but no sound came out.

They regarded each other awkwardly before Blaine moved away. Diving into a partition to change, he quickly put on his uniform. Imelda’s scarf did not match any of the other pieces and he stared at his reflection wondering what the reaction would be when he emerged from the room.

Finally, Natty called the team over.

Taking a deep breath, Blaine went outside. With most of the team gathered around in a circle with their backs turned, no one noticed him approach. Natty called out names left and right as she went over last minute strategy. Somewhere outside, the sounds of people grew louder as more students gathered in their sections.

“…Weasley make sure to block Sallow’s bludger. Last match he almost knocked half our team off their brooms. Try and force him away from the rings to keep him from blocking our plays.”

Natty tapped her finger over another shape on her paper. She called Blaine’s name without looking up.

“Blaine, try to weave fast in front of the hoops. That 6th year Chaser of theirs is fast. If you look away for a second, he’ll score,” she looked up to offer some more advice and froze.

Blaine looked away awkwardly as more members of his team turned around.

“Are you-”

Lucan Brattleby cut himself off as he spotted the green scarf around his neck. He sounded more amused than upset.

Off to his side, Garreth kicked off the wall he had been leaning against after a brief moment of stunned silence. His arms were crossed and his jaw was tight. “What are you wearing? Where’s your scarf? Madam Kogawa won’t let you on the field in green.”

His tone was icy, and Blaine felt a surge of annoyance. After days of silence, the first thing he did was scold him?

His fingers went to Imelda’s scarf and he tightened them instinctively. Seeing him, Garreth’s attitude worsened.

“There’s nothing in the rules about not wearing the full uniform,” he looked at Natty who was pensive, “I checked. Imelda will be wearing mine.”

Nellie Oggspire made a sound standing next to Natty.

“The Slytherin captain in red? Now that’s a sight I haven’t seen,” she commented with a laugh.

“We’re up against Slytherin, Blaine,” Natty hesitated, “It sends a terrible message if our Keeper is wearing their colors.”

“It does. It means he’s a traitor to his team,” Garreth commented. He took a step towards Natty, “He can’t wear that on the field.”

“Shut it, Weasley,” Blaine hissed then paused.

A tense silence filled the room as people stared. They had never seen Blaine and Garreth argue before. Even Garreth turned back in surprise before his face grew red and he spun back on Natty.

“We’re playing Slytherin. He can’t go out looking like a snake. Their team will laugh at us-“

“Imelda is wearing mine!” Blaine turned to Natty, “Go check. Their team is still in their changing rooms. You’ll see her in it.”

Lucan looked between Blaine and Garreth wearily. Lawrence Davies, their alternative Beater filling in for Leander, took a step back sensing a coming fight and tried to prevent it.

“We don’t have time for this argument. The whistle will blow any minute now. Let’s just go over last minute strategy-“

“It’s a scarf,” Natty finally spoke up, “Not a full uniform. It’s not a big deal. As long as Madam Kogawa doesn’t order you to take it off-“

“You can’t be serious!” Garreth threw his hands up, “He’s on our team! Or at least he pretends to be! He can’t wear Imelda’s scarf-”

“What do you mean pretends to be?” Blaine strode towards him and grit his teeth. This close, he could see how flushed Garreth was, “I am on this team. I’ve never wavered in my loyalty to it. Unlike some people, I’ve been very faithful un like some people-”

“Yeah you certainly look it wrapped in that scarf. Has your little girlfriend really gotten into your head that much? Are you letting her call all the shots? Has Gryffindor sunken so low that its lions lie with snakes and wrap them around their necks-”

“Godric, Garreth, stop it,” Nellie hissed in evident shock at his words. To her side, Cressida Blume tightened her hands around her broomstick. Her eyes pleaded with Natty to intervene.

Blaine jabbed a finger at his chest.

“At least I have a girlfriend. Unlike some people that burn through girls faster than they can even memorize their names and push away the only person that’s ever been by their side. It must kill you to see that not everyone is as miserable as you are. Does it sting to see some of us move on?”

The words were falling faster than he could think about them. The culmination of their previous arguments gave him a lot of material to work with. Blaine wasn’t even sure if he meant half of what he said or knew what exactly he was saying.

Garreth seemed to be in a similar state. His hands were practically shaking at his sides and his eyes were blazing. No doubt whatever resentment had been building the past few days was finally bubbling to the surface singing everything in his path.

“You have a lot of nerve-”

Garreth began to draw nearer when suddenly a hand was thrown in between the two of them.

“Leviosa!” Natty’s wand sparked to life.

Blaine let out a noise of surprise before his body began to levitate. Garreth was similarity lifted off the ground. The changing room was eerily silent as the two of them struggled to gather their bearings.

With a flick of her wand, Natty released the spell. The two of them tumbled to the ground. Blaine landed painfully on his knee. To his side, he could see Garreth clutch his elbow.

Whatever anger had burned through the two of them had been frightened away by Natty. A cold emptiness spread through Blaine as he stared down at the floor. His ears burned with shame and pain.

Natty looked positively furious at them both. It was an expression she seldom wore. Suddenly looking like Professor Onai, her hands went to her waist.

The rest of their team stared at the two of them in shock. Cressida looked like she wanted to shrink in on herself, Nellie’s eyes were wide, Lucan was feigning being very interested in Natty’s sketches, and Lawrence was staring at his broomstick. Minutes before the big game and they were more divided than ever.

“I should honestly remove the two of you from the match,” Natty began, “But Leander got detention with Professor Sharp, and I already used Lawrence to fill in his spot. Were our other alternate here, I’d strip you both of your positions and keep you out for the next few games.”

Another uneasy pause. Blaine could hear Garreth’s quiet, uneven breathing. His own fingers went to the skin around his nails.

Finally, Natty sighed.

The affection she had for the both of them won out. She pocketed her wand and turned away. Her hand went to her temple where Blaine could imagine a headache was forming.

“The game will start soon. Everyone out into the field. Whatever anger you have, channel it at the opponent. Blaine, if Madam Kogawa asks you to remove it, take it off. Otherwise, I do not care. Just remember what you are really fighting for.”

She strode outside the room with her broomstick in tow. The rest of the team scrambled to follow her. None of them glanced back as if eager to get away from the entire situation. He didn’t blame them. Blaine slowly got to his feet. His hands tightened around his broom-

He thought about saying something to Garreth. Should he apologize? Would it even be welcome?

He hesitated by the door.

“Blaine, I-”

A quiet whisper, Garreth was still on the ground. Blaine could hear the hitch of his breath which signified how hurt he was. When he raised his head, his eyes were red with unshed tears.

He waited for Garreth to finish his sentence, but he never did. Instead, he got up and turned around. Scooping up his helmet, he moved around Blaine and didn’t glance back.

Staring at his back, Blaine took a deep breath and followed his team unto the field.

———

“Switching teams have we, Ambrose?” Sebastian was lazily weaving through the field on his broom when Blaine flew up. He smirked as he caught sight of Blaine and pat his own green scarf in recognition.

The Slytherin team had been waiting for a while. Imelda was speaking to her players for some last minute advice off to the side. Blaine’s scarf was wrapped around her neck, yet none of her team members seemed to mind. If anything, they found it funny. Grace Pinch-Smedley giggled when she caught sight of Blaine’s scarf.

“How romantic,” Nerida Roberts called out.

The Gryffindor team was silent as they filed into position. Garreth was staring down at the crowd below with his cheek jumping out as he ground his teeth together. Blaine ignored the other team as he took his position by the hoops.

Madam Kogawa examined Blaine and Imelda closely but did not comment on their scarves. Instead, she tapped her watch in annoyance. The Gryffindor team had been late by several minutes. The game was delayed and the crowd was restless.

On the stands, Headmaster Black looked irritated as he impatiently moved his hand for the match to start. Professor Weasley sitting several seats down noticed her nephew’s downtrodden expression and glanced at Blaine with a questioning look. Blaine refused to look back at her worried that he would break.

His mind was entire planets away as the whistle finally blew. From the very beginning, it was obvious they weren’t going to win. The morale had sunk low from their fight, and the Gryffindors had trouble cooperating. Several times they hesitated and missed obvious plays. The Slytherins flew circles around them.

Blaine was so distracted he missed several easy blocks. He seldom realized they had made points until the announcer had called it out. The crowd on the Slytherin’s side was wild while the Gryffindor side was quiet.

By the time a break was called by Madam Kogawa, the prospect was bleak. Slytherin was so far ahead that only the snitch would save them. Between Leander being absent, the team being distracted, and their communication broken, the match was already decided in Slytherin’s favor.

As the teams touched down to reconvene, Imelda landed next to him.

“What’s with you lions today?” Her tone was teasing but her eyes seemed genuinely confused, “You usually give a much better game.”

Blaine hesitated as he stared out at the crowd. Professor Weasley was standing up as she tried to catch sight of Garreth. Her nephew had ducked inside the changing rooms with the others. Natty was speaking with Lucan and Madam Kogawa no doubt answering questions about their poor performance.

“We had a fight, Garreth and I. A massive one before the game. If Natty hadn’t pulled us apart, I think we could have drawn wands. Garreth was furious I was wearing your scarf,” Blaine tugged at the fabric awkwardly.

Imelda bit her lip.

“I’m sorry, I genuinely didn’t mean for that to happen. My team found the entire thing hilarious. I wasn’t trying to sabotage-“

Blaine waved her away impatiently.

“It’s not you. Garreth and I have been tense since Leander spilled everything. A fight was going to happen at some point with or without the scarf. Go back to your team, congratulate them. You have the match in your pocket.”

He turned away from her and strode off to his team. Some of the other students were whispering as he walked past. Even from down below the rest of the school had caught on to the fact that something had happened. Blaine wondered how long it would be before the news of his fight with Garreth spread.

“Blaine!”

Poppy waved her hand from one of the Hufflepuff seats. Lenora Everleigh and Adelaide Oakes were sitting next to her. Although they weren’t Gryffindors, each had a red article of clothing cheering his team on. After the first half, Blaine wondered if they regretted it.

Poppy leaned against the rails and peered down at him. Her eyes were wide.

“What’s wrong? Garreth just stormed past us-“

“Later, Poppy, I really don’t want to think right now.”

Blaine ignored her concerned calls of his name as he walked towards Natty. The poor girl had gotten a scolding from Kogawa for how badly her team was fairing. While Blaine wouldn’t have blamed her if she aired out her frustration on him, she merely sighed.

“Brooms up in a minute,” she warned, “The game isn’t over yet. Don’t give up.”

Blaine bit his tongue as the rest of the team wandered around. No one took her words to heart. The score board didn’t lie.

A shrill whistle sounded from Madam Kogawa. The team didn’t even glance back at each other as they rose up in the air.

The second half was no less disastrous than the first. The Slytherin team scored more points than Blaine could stop and Natty was too distracted to find the snitch. She only moved when Imelda did and relied on her to give clues as to where it was.

At some point, the entire field had begun to spin. Blaine hardly reacted when the Quaffle zoomed past him through another hoop. The Slytherin section below went mad cheering and screaming.

The sound was a painful grate against his ears. He winced and pinched the bridge of his nose. A painful throb was beginning behind his eyes and colorful lights would dance across his eyelids when he shut them. The beginning of a migraine was starting.

The exhaustion, the mess of emotions, and the stress caught up to him. He leaned against one of the hoops and tried to keep his balance on his broomstick. He could hear the announcer call his name wondering aloud if he was okay.

Sebastian wandered over from his post. His hand reached out.

“Blaine-?”

His fingers had barely made contact with his shoulder when the entire field spun in circles. Blaine’s grip on his broom faltered and he felt gravity begin to drag him down. He felt himself plunge under and begin to fall.

Screams sounded as gravity rushed up to meet him. The last thing he saw before darkness enveloped him was Garreth speeding from his broomstick towards him.

———

Nurse Blainey cast Lumos on her wand and moved it side to side across his field of vision. Blaine winced at its brightness. His head was killing him and his entire body felt sore.

“You are very fortunate Madam Kogawa managed to use Arresto Momentum on you. Had she not reacted fast enough, you’d be drinking vials of Skele-gro right now. A fall that high up could have broken your spine,” she scolded.

Blaine blinked weakly across the room. Imelda was standing behind Nurse Blainey along with Sebastian, Natty, and Garreth-

Garreth.

Their eyes met. Garreth had his guard down and his face was open. His eyes were full of fear and concern. Blaine could weakly remember him rushing towards him as he fell.

A hand went to his forehead.

“How long was I out?” His throat was raspy from sleep. He wished he had some water to drink and maybe an eternity to fall asleep.

“A few hours,” Natty responded, “It’s nearly night time.”

A glance at the window proved she was telling the truth. While the game had been in the early morning, the sun was now setting. Blaine wondered if he should ask who won, if it even mattered, but a glance at Natty’s face let him know it hadn’t been his team.

He sagged against the bed as Nurse Blainey set a bottle of Wiggenweld on the nightstand.

“Drink this. You are staying overnight while I monitor your health. You are dehydrated and exhausted. Have you been taking care of yourself at all?”

Blaine’s silence was answer enough. She huffed and began to mutter to herself as she moved away.

Sebastian dropped down onto a nearby bed and Imelda plopped next to him. Natty inched closer too. Behind them, Garreth hung back awkwardly as if unsure of what to do.

“That was a nasty fall,” Sebastian said, “You nearly gave me a heart attack. I was about to heroically rescue you myself, but it seemed Madam Kogawa had it handled.”

“I’m sure you would have made a dashing knight,” Blaine murmured.

He drank the entire Wiggenweld in one swig. Despite the numerous potions he had taken in the past, the taste hadn’t improved. He forced himself to not make a face.

“Oh, very dashing, I would have taken the title of the Hero of Hogwarts from you,” Sebastian ribbed.

Imelda shook her head.

“Poppy came by to see you earlier,” she leaned towards Blaine, “She left you a gift. Ominis also left not that long ago and said he’d speak to you later. Nurse Blainey has been chasing away visitors all day. You are quite popular.”

She handed him Poppy’s gift. It was a small little Fwooper plushie that looked handmade. His eyes naturally swung to Garreth remembering their 5th year when he had asked for Blaine to retrieve a feather from Sharp’s office. Merlin, it seemed like an entire lifetime ago…

Garreth was sitting at a different bed ways away from the rest. He cleared his throat as if hesitant to speak.

“You passed out. It was really bad.”

His voice was soft, quiet. Blaine could hear the residual panic there. He wondered if Garreth had been here the entire time. A selfish part of him hoped he had.

“The team wishes you better of course, my friend,” Natty commented, “And you’re out of commission for the next few games by Nurse Blainey’s orders. I consider that punishment enough.”

Right, punishment.

Blaine risked a glance at Garreth and saw him flinch. It seemed that comment was a painful reminder for him too. He stood from his seat and wandered over to Natty’s side.

Sebastian tried to lighten the mood.

“If you must know, us Slytherins have postponed our own celebration in solidarity. The big after party we were planning has been moved to a few days from now. You’re invited of course. As is Garreth and Natty. You lions are usually barred entry, but you’re lucky you have us to vouch for you.”

He motioned towards himself and Imelda.

“How selfless,” Blaine teased weakly.

“Oh, terribly so, we should be the loyal house not Hufflepuff,” Imelda quipped. She stood just as Nurse Blainey returned.

“Alright, you lot. One visitor tonight. I can only allow one person to remain with Mr. Ambrose while he recovers,” she held up one finger.

“I can-” Imelda began, but Nurse Blainey waved her off.

“You need permission from a head of house to stay out past curfew. At this rate, it’s too late for Professor Sharp to grant it. Mr. Weasley, Professor Weasley has granted you permission should you want it. Either you or Miss Onai.”

Natty turned to Garreth, Garreth hesitated.

“I’m not sure if-” His eyes moved to Blaine.

Before he could think, Blaine’s hand shot out towards his. His fingers snagged around Garreth’s wrist in one quick movement. Garreth’s breath hitched as he stared down at him in surprise.

“Stay,” Blaine whispered.

A tiny plea. He ignored the surprised look from the others as they looked between the two of them and Imelda. His eyes were solely on Garreth.

Garreth blinked up at him and his eyes softened. Without glancing at Nurse Blainey, he nodded.

“I’ll stay.”

A confirmation that let Blaine feel relaxed. He let go of his hand with some regret then eased back into his bed. Exhaustion was dragging down his eyelids again.

Nurse Blainey began to shoo the crowd around the bed away.

“Right, let’s give Mr. Ambrose some space. Mr. Weasley, you can use an empty bed for the night. I’ll bring a Dreamless Sleep potion in a bit, don’t drift off just yet,” she turned to Blaine.

Too late, Blaine was only half listening. The moment his eyes closed, he felt sleep carry him away.

———

Ranrok sneered at him as he stalked forward. Next to him, Rookwood’s cold face peered up at him from the shadows. His wand raised in a spell. A flash of green-

And then red.

“Crucio!”

Sebastian’s voice was accompanied by agony. Blaine could hear every bone in his body break and every muscle tear. White hot pain shot through every nerve and he writhed on the Scriptorium floor. He wished for death as the spell sent wave after wave of suffering-

Professor Fig was eerily pale on the ground. His eyes were already unfocused and his hands blindly groped for Blaine’s. When he spoke, his voice was hardly above a shallow whisper.

“Miriam would have liked you-“

“Blaine! Blaine!”

A panicked voice fished him out of the darkness. Blaine jolted awake with a terrible noise that sounded like a mixture of a gasp and a scream. He felt someone’s hands on his arms trying to shake him.

His eyes snapped open. The darkened infirmary greeted him. Standing over him, Garreth was pale.

His hair was disheveled from sleep and his hands were shaking. No doubt Blaine’s own screams had woken him up. Nurse Blainey had retired for the night leaving the two of them alone.

“Breathe,” Garreth commanded. He took a few deep breaths of his own to prompt him.

Blaine mimicked his breathing as he felt his heart begin to slow.

“Did I wake you-I’m sorry,” he sagged against the bed.

Garreth slowly let him go but not before helping him ease back into his place. He sounded groggy from sleep.

“Don’t apologize,” he firmly stated.

Blaine’s nightmares were nothing new. Since 5th year, they had been playing out every so often. 6th year had been the worst with him constantly waking his dorm mates up with screams, but they had slowed by 7th year. He hadn’t had a bad one like tonight in a very long time. Perhaps the events of the day had pulled him back under. The stress must have brought them back.

His hands pressed against his eyelids in frustration.

Garreth had witnessed plenty of his nightmares. Blaine had spent time with his family during vacations. He had witnessed Blaine’s episodes enough times to know what to do, and he had never complained. Every time Blaine had woken up screaming, Garreth had been there.

That much hadn’t changed. Even after a terrible fight, Garreth was still there. He had stayed when Blaine had asked and helped him breathe when Blaine thought he was drowning.

“Are you alright now?” Garreth’s voice was soft. He risked a glance towards Nurse Blainey’s office but the witch had long since left. A member of the staff, she had probably retired to the staff wing. Blaine vaguely remembered the area from the damned demiguise statues Mr. Moon had made him hunt down.

Blaine didn’t answer his question. Instead, he blinked up at him. As his vision adjusted to the darkness he could see the state Garreth was in.

His eyes were bloodshot, dark circles underneath demonstrating his lack of sleep, and his skin was pale. He looked every bit as terrible as he felt. It seemed Blaine hadn’t been the only one suffering all these days.

He tried to sit up but a hand on his chest eased him back down.

“Don’t, you’re still weak. Nurse Blainey didn’t leave you anymore potions. I think she thought you’d sleep through the night. I could break into Sharp’s stash and bring you a Dreamless Sleep potion if you want. Godric knows you need it,” Garreth offered.

Blaine huffed.

“And then you’d have detention for the rest of the school year. You aren’t Sebastian. You can’t sneak past prefects,” he responded.

A small silence resounded. It didn’t feel as uncomfortable as the ones before. Perhaps it was because they were both tired.

Blaine nodded at Garreth’s bed. The sheets had been strewn about as if he had been tossing and turning.

“Were you asleep?” He inquired.

Garreth looked at his bed. The muscle in his cheek jumped.

“I was making sure you were breathing. Nurse Blainey was worried about you before she left. She asked me to watch over you for a bit to make sure you were sleeping properly. I stayed up a little to see if you were okay.”

Another small silence. Blaine’s throat felt tight.

“Thank you.”

A quiet whisper he wasn’t even sure had reached him. A simple thank you felt so hollow. Two words couldn’t possibly grasp everything he felt. The gratitude, the guilt, the yearning, the love-

A hand softly brushed some hair away from Blaine’s face.

“You need your rest,” Garreth murmured, “Can you go back to bed?”

Blaine leaned into his touch. It felt warm, familiar. He closed his eyes and tried to ground himself in it.

“Why?”

The hand stroking his hair stopped.

“Why what?” Garreth sounded confused.

“Why stay? After I hurt you, after I fought with you, after everything. Why did you decide to stay?”

Subconsciously, Garreth lowered his hand to Blaine’s lap. Blaine didn’t even think before claiming it. He intertwined their fingers and was amazed at how natural it felt. Their hands fit together like a perfect puzzle.

Garreth stroked the back of his hand with his thumb. Never once did he look down or react to what he was doing. Perhaps he didn’t even realize he was so close.

A quiet breath left his lips.

“You asked me to stay. I couldn’t leave you.”

“Is that the only reason?” Blaine tried to meet his eyes.

It took several seconds for Garreth to meet his gaze. When he did, his eyes were torn. There was a chasm of different feelings in their depth. It echoed every inch of Blaine’s own heart.

“You know it’s not the only reason why.”

A hitched breath, a pained admission. Garreth closed his eyes. The hand holding Blaine’s squeezed.

Blaine’s mouth dried up. A million thoughts ran through his mind, yet he couldn’t voice any of them out. The words died on his tongue each time he tried. He had no idea where to start or what to say.

Garreth looked no better off. He bowed his head and slowly released his hand.

There was a lot to unpack in his words. Blaine yearned to process everything and make sense of what he had said.

But it was not the right moment.

He felt too exhausted and broken down to even consider it. They both desperately needed to have a conversation, but not today. Not when Blaine felt like any little thing could break him.

“What would help you keep the nightmares away?” Garreth asked softly.

Before Blaine could even think, the answer was falling from his lips.

“You.”

A long pause. Blaine wished he could bite off his own tongue. It was a terrible thing to say when there were so many conflicting emotions between them. He wouldn’t blame Garreth a bit if he decided to leave. He was being incredibly selfish in asking so much of him.

Garreth suddenly stood up. He ran a hand through his hair further mussing it up.

Blaine cringed. He got ready to apologize certain that Garreth would leave-

And then Garreth gently nodded his head.

“Okay.”

He hesitated for a moment as if psyching himself up then made a motion with his hand.

“Make room,” he ordered.

Blaine stared at him as the words registered. Wordlessly and full of surprise, he complied. He inched to the other side of the bed and laid on his side with his front facing Garreth.

Moments later, the bed dipped with Garreth’s weight. He eased into the covers next to him.

The two of them faced each other. For a moment, neither moved. Each was too busy trying to think of what to do while trying to ignore the ramifications of what was happening. Both were trying to understand just what they were doing and what it would mean in the morning.

In the end, they both collectively decided to deal with anything else later. The hour was too late and each was too exhausted to dwell on it deeper. They had almost lost each other earlier that day in fits of fury and free falls. Whatever issues would arise from now could wait until daybreak. For now, the night belonged to them.

Slowly, Garreth reached out and found Blaine’s hand. He clasped it in between them and intertwined their fingers. An intimate touch that had both their hearts racing.

“Is this okay?”

Blaine squeezed his hand back in response. Feeling the warm of Garreth so close, some sleep began to creep in. He closed his eyes and tried to welcome it. The hand in his was a steadying presence that soothed his anxiety and fear.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could swear he felt the brush of Garreth’s lips against his. He tried to focus on the sensation, but the darkness quickly won out. Sleep claimed its prize before he could process what had happened.

The next morning when Nurse Blainey arrived with a new Wiggenweld, Blaine found himself alone. Garreth had left some time before the sun had risen and Nurse Blainey seemed not to have realized what occurred the night before. She greeted him and busied about his bed asking how he had spent the night with her usual terse countenance.

Blaine hadn’t answered her too busy marveling at the memory of last night. Staring down at the hand that Garreth had held asleep, Blaine could only wonder if the previous events had all been one long, beautiful dream.

[musings-of-a-rose]

Chase Me Because You Love Me

Chase Me Because You Love Me

Pairing: Francisco "Frankie/Catfish" Morales x F!reader (established relationship)

Word Count: 5370 ish (what is happening?)

Rating: M- Mature. 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: So this is the first thing I've ever written outside social media captions and mandatory school assignments (which it's been A WHILE). The idea behind this 100% came from the gif of Pedro walking in a tux, seeing some behind the scenes of him walking as Joel for TLOU, and Frankie because he is love.

Dedicating this to @astoryisaloveaffair. Without you, I would definitely not have written this long thot into something resembling a story with a small plot. Thanks for listening to my rambles and insecurities and thotting ❤

Also, I tried my best to make the reader inclusive, aside from assigning a female gender. If there was anything that took you out of the story, please let me know! I'm definitely NOT an experienced story writer (aside from vivid daydreams LOL) and have much to learn!

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

Gif Credit the top and left are from @uuuhshiny, the right is from @anaaaispunk. The bottom one I added to giphy myself but who made the actual gif I'm not sure. If you know, please let me know so I can properly credit them! Especially for the inspiration!

____________________________❤❤❤___________________________

You see him coming towards you through the crowd, dressed in his all black suit that you loved. His strong arms swinging with his walk, broad shoulders making his black suit jacket strain with every step. Walking wouldn’t describe this. This was confident, this was strong, this was...hot. You lock eyes with him and he has the most feral lustful look in his eyes as he gazes back at you. You give him a hint of a smirk and turn and walk away from him through the crowd. He follows you, tracking you like a predator stalks its prey.

He watches you head through a door in the back of the room. He quickly makes his way to the door and through it, seeing you at the end of the hall on the opposite end. You chance a glance over your shoulder, lock eyes with Frankie, and give him a wink to match your smirk and continue around the corner at the end of the hall.

Recognizing the hallway from when he did a sweep for exits earlier, Frankie doesn't head straight for you but takes a shortcut through a side hall. He pauses and listens. No one else is in the halls aside from you both. He hears the faint click, click of your heels getting closer to where he is hidden in shadow.

_____________________________________________________________

You head around the corner after flashing Frankie a wicked smirk. You move confidently, positive you can continue to lead him on, enjoying the pursuit. You're not sure what spurred you on to start this game of chase. Something in the way he looked at you, eyes darkening with lust as he made eye contact with you across the room and strutted directly towards you. It set your whole body on fire.

You reach the end of the hall and turn to glance over your shoulder, smirk already on your lips, but no one is there. You don't have a moment to think about it though because in your ear you hear a low, husky voice say "Where do you think you're going, querida?"

It happens instantaneously-goosebumps appearing along the skin your dress leaves exposed, a tightening in your core, and a desperate desire to alleviate the growing need between your thighs.

Before you can reply, a strong arm grips yours and drags you into a small hallway that you must have missed. Your back hits the wall and you let out a grunt of pleasure that doesn't quite leave your lips before he's on you. Pinning you to the wall, his voice low and raspy in your ear, "You thought you could escape me, querida?" One of his hands against the wall on the side of your head, the other finds its way into your hair and gives a tug, exposing your neck and upper chest. Teeth and lips run along your collar bone and up your neck where they hit their mark. Teeth bite you not to hurt but to claim.

You let out a breathy moan as he moves from biting to sucking, wanting to leave a mark for all to see. To claim you as his. Once he does, he gives it a sensual lick before he kisses and nips his way down your neck and across your exposed chest. He continues his work up the other side of your neck before he pauses, the slope of his nose pressed against your skin. A whine escapes your lips that quickly turns into a moan as you hear him slowly inhale.

"You smell so fucking good cariño". His voice has the same lusty rasp to it but there's something else. Desire. A primal need. His hand untangles from your hair and mimics the other as they roam down the sides of your body, searching for something. He finds the bottom seam of your dress and hikes it up high enough for him to move one of his legs in-between yours, pressing against your core.

"Frankie…" you half whisper half moan out into the quiet hall, sounds of the party continuing in the main hall a distant buzz. Unable to help yourself, you start to grind on his leg. Frankie moves his hands up your clothed body and finds your breasts. He gently but firmly gives them a squeeze and rubs his thumb over the fabric that covers your nipples. Your head hits the wall behind you as you toss it back and let out a loud moan.

"Hello?" You hear someone call. Frankie and you both freeze, and you can feel him move his leg away from you, his grip loosening, as he turns his head to locate the intruder. Despite the growing ache in your core, you seize your opportunity and quickly slide off Frankie's leg, duck under his arm, and book it to the end of the small hallway, not daring to look over your shoulder until you've reached the end. What you saw when you glanced back vibrated every cell in your body with pleasure.

_____________________________________________________________

Frankie heard the man call out, beyond mad at the interruption. Figuring that he would have to interact with the intruder, he moved his leg from between yours and loosened his grip, preparing to move out into the hallway and block you from view. He opened his mouth to tell you to stay put, when you ducked under his arm and ran, full force towards the opposite end of the hall. He hears the intruder's voice call out again, closer this time "No one is supposed to be back here!" He stares at you as you reach the end of the hall and turn to look at him. Prey begging the predator to chase them. He knows the look he has on his face must be intense because he sees a shiver run through your body. A little smile creeps up your face as you bite your lip and make a come hither motion with your finger.

_____________________________________________________________

Frankie turns to you fully and you freeze, eyes locking on his. You both stand and stare at each other, the heat and tension in this moment palpable, despite the distance of the hall. The moment may have lasted seconds or hours, you didn't know. All you saw was Frankie's eyes, normally soft and beautifully brown, have changed. The intensity of his stare darkens them with such desire and primal energy, an energy that radiates through his entire body. You are so captivated, and turned on, by this that you nearly miss him start to move. The first few steps he walks, struts down the hall, his arms swinging from his broad shoulders. Then he breaks into a run.

You run back up the hall from where you came, slowed a little by your heels. You manage to make it to the door of the hall and fling yourself through the entrance into the crowd of people in the room. No one notices or cares about your abrupt entrance and you are glad. You wind your way through the crowd, looking for the doorway on the other side of the room. You're about halfway through the room when you glance behind you. You don't see him, but that doesn't slow you down. You know how talented Frankie is. You push your way through the crowd as carefully and quickly as possible, all the while scanning the people for his face. The fact that you don't see him sends your mind reeling. You know he is stalking you, watching you move through the crowd. And it's all you can do to keep from coming right there at the mere thought of everything. You make it to the door and turn to give the room one more look before you slip out of it.

_____________________________________________________________

Frankie catches the door just before it closes. He slips inside and lets out a small grunt of frustration. He'd forgotten there were so many people at this event. He scans the crowd and it takes him a minute but he spots you, a little less than halfway across the giant room. Never taking his eyes off you, he slips into the crowd, concealing himself from your view. He stalks you as you make your way through the throngs of people talking, dancing, laughing. He knows you haven't seen him as you glance over your shoulder. He also knows you feel his eyes on you. The extra sway in your hips, the way you bite your lip. Every time you scan the crowd and don't see him he sees a small shiver run through you and the slightest push of your thighs together so as to relieve the building pressure. He can see how turned on you are by this and it only fuels his desire more. He sees you give the room one final glance before you slip quietly out the main door.

_____________________________________________________________

You made it through the door to the front of the mansion. What was this event even for? You can't remember and don't really care. Ahead of you, there are some small hallways going off to what you assume is the rest of the biggest home you'd ever seen, but you see the grand staircase you passed when you arrived, being escorted by Frankie. Frankie dressed in an all black suit because you requested it. His curled hair sitting on the edge of his shirt collar. The jacket straining whenever he moved his arms or broad shoulders. The way his shirt fit over that little tummy that you found so fucking hot. You had wanted him the moment you saw him in that tux and you nearly pounced on him...

You realized you hadn't moved since you made it through the door and snap yourself out of it. You quickly make your way to the staircase, debating on taking off your heels. As you reach the bottom of the stairs, you hear the door you had come through open and you decide to leave your shoes on to save time. You ascend the stairs as quickly as you can in these godforsaken heels (who invented these anyway?) all the while listening for any sound of Frankie in pursuit.

You get to the top and see a long, grand hallway with about 20 different doors and...a dead end? You glance back down the stairs, fully expecting to see Frankie but you don't. Which apparently is working for you as you feel yourself getting hot and not from the chase. You turn back and decide to pick a door, not bothering to care that this isn't your home. You quietly stride over to a door about halfway down the hall.

You reach for the handle, gripping it in your hand to open it when a large hand with a small bullseye tattoo grips your forearm. Another hand grips your opposite hip, pushing you up against the door and holding you there with his body pressed against you. Frankie moves his hand from your arm to tangle in your hair just enough to get a grip and pulls your head back gently but forcefully.

You feel his hot breath on your now exposed neck. He runs his sharp nose along your skin and says, in his low, raspy voice "Did you think you could escape me?" His words set your body on fire. You let out a breathy sigh, not being able to do much more since you can barely get in a full breath with the weight of him on you. You decided to try your luck and offer him the smallest smirks.

That worked.

In what felt like one motion, Frankie steps away from you, yanking back your hip that he still has ahold of, and flings the door open. He roughly guides you inside and slams the door shut with his foot. A quick glance around and you think you're in a guest room of sorts. There's a giant four-poster canopy bed, nightstands, an elaborate dresser, a huge leather couch, and a couple of doors presumably leading to the closet and bathroom. There are no personal effects anywhere which made you guess this wasn't a room used often.

You don't have a chance to register anything else as large hands spin you around and push you against the wall. Frankie grabs the bottom of your dress and shoves it up past your thighs. He uses his legs to spread yours and slides one between yours. You reach out to give him a gentle push. You're enjoying this but you enjoy riling him up even more. He grabs your wrists and pushes your arms out to the side of your head. He looks at you, eyes black and blown out with a predatorial primal lust, and growls. It's deep, guttural, and goes straight to your core. He leans in close but you don't move. He uses his nose to turn your head, letting out another growl. He uses that voice to growl in your ear "I wasn't done with you yet, my sweet girl". It comes from somewhere deep within you, this sound. It's part whine, part moan, dripping with lust. Sheer desire pours off you in waves of tension, your whole body feeling like a live wire.

_____________________________________________________________

Frankie senses the extra edge to your sound and moves to easily place both of your wrists in one of his hands, pinning them above your head. He returns to the spot under your ear, takes another inhale, and growls his approval. You smell so fucking good. His mouth finds that spot and he starts sucking, biting, licking, his way down your neck. His now free hand slowly roams down your figure. That's when he notices that you're grinding on his leg, ever so slightly. His hand roams lower still and finds where your dress is bunched up. He reaches between your legs and takes a sharp intake of breath. You weren't wearing any underwear. He pulls his head back to look at you and finds you already looking at him. You give him that slight smirk that sets something in him on fire and you know it. "No panties?" He growls out. Two can play at that game.

_____________________________________________________________

"Didn't want to have panty line- OH!" Frankie's fingers didn't wait for your reply. He slowly slides them down to your opening and traces small circles there, gathering your obvious arousal. But instead of pushing in, he slides his now soaked fingers slightly back up and down your folds, gathering more of your slick with each pass. Every time he moves, he goes a little higher before sliding back to soak his fingers more. Your entire body feels lit with anticipation. He's so close to where you need him and you can feel that heat low in your belly starting to ignite. Slowly, so fucking slowly, he makes his way up to your clit. Just before he reaches it, he stops.

What the actual fuck?

You let out a loud huff and he gives you a throaty laugh. "What's wrong, sweet girl? You don't like being teased?" His hand is still where he left it and you try to wiggle down to get any kind of relief before you implode. Frankie notices what you're trying to do and removes his hand. You open your mouth to rage at him but he puts his wet finger to your lips to silence you. You meet his gaze and see your own desire echoed in his lust blown eyes. He slowly traces a wet line down your neck, dips down below your clavicle, and back up to below your opposite ear. He moves in to kiss you but stops just short of your lips. "I said" he places a surprisingly chaste kiss to your lips. "Do you" he kisses your jaw. "not like" he kisses your clavicle, with increasing heat. "Being teased" he runs his chiseled nose up your neck and up to your ear. His voice drops an octave as he leans into your ear "sweet girl?"

You forget words. You forget how to speak. The only thing you do know is his voice nearly sends you over the edge. You manage to squeak out a slurred "nnnugh" in response. Frankie's chest slightly rumbles as he lets out a deep chuckle. "I didn't catch that querida." Fuck he wants me to talk. "N-nnno" you manage. Frankie pulls your hands down in front of you, pulls you away from the wall, turns you away from it, moves you forward a little, and drops your hands. He's letting me go? You stand there staring at him in confusion for a moment. A dark, feral look comes over him and it makes you shiver. Frankie opens his mouth to speak and his voice is so low and strained you almost miss what he says.

"Move."

Slowly you start to back up towards the bed, but after a couple of steps, Frankie starts to walk. No, not walk, you think. He moves as slowly as you do, never taking his eyes from you. You watch him. The way he's following you, concentrating on you alone. You can feel his desire radiating off of him, but there's something more. And then it hits you. He's hunting me - he wants the chase. He's enjoying this just as much as you are.

You stumble a bit over your heels as you try to back up quicker. How big was this fucking room? Frankie watches you struggle to put distance between you. You look back up at him and on his face is your smirk.

And then he moves.

It's so calculating, methodical, and well-executed. He struts towards you with confident ease as you stumble backward, trying to move faster. Just before you would hit the bed, he's on you. He grabs your hips and helps you onto the bed, pushing you down in the process and you bounce slightly as you hit the mattress. He crawls up your body, fully encompassing you. All you can see, hear, smell, and touch is Frankie. Your mouths meet in a frenzied dance, each immediately opening for the other. He breaks the kiss, resting his forehead briefly to yours as he catches his breath. Then he moves down your body and off the bed.

He carefully takes off your heels and sets them off to the side. As he moves to set them on the floor, you seize the moment for one last tease. You scoot back on the bed, fully intending to slide off the other side and have him chase you around. But you only slid up a short bit when his head snaps up to you. He snarls, actually snarls, and grabs your ankles, yanking you back in place with enough force to pull you but not hurt you. "You're not getting away from me again, querida." You swear you could come just from hearing him talk.

You give him a coy laugh that turns into a loud moan. Frankie hikes your dress up to your hips and starts kissing your inner thighs. He pushes your legs wider, using his broad shoulder to hold them open. Then he starts to give you little bites and you come unglued. You need him to touch you now. "Frankie, please." Your plea makes him smile up at you from between your legs. "What do you want, mi amor?" Fuck what do you want? "Touch me." Frankie moves his head so close to your core that you can feel his breath move your curls. "How?" What even are words? "However you want me".

Frankie gives a chuckle deep in his chest. He gives you one last lust-filled look before he parts your folds and runs his nose up your seam, bumping into your clit at the end. You can't help the scream that comes out of your mouth "FRANKIE!" He chuckles, which sends vibrations throughout your entire center. He runs his nose up your seam again, but this time, he follows it with the tip of his tongue barely touching you. You let out a moan that becomes louder as he moves up to your clit. One of your hands winds into the sheets while the other finds his hair and gives a slight tug. He grunts his approval and returns to your clit. He spends time there, winding his tongue around your sensitive bud. "Oh fuck Frankie, just like that." You feel your release quickly rising, but then he stops. I'm going to crush him, you think.

You lean up on the hand that's in the sheets to look at Frankie. He gives you another smirk before diving back down, sliding his tongue up and down, back and forth. He brings a finger up to your entrance and traces circles around it, feeling how your arousal pools around it. "Fuck, please Frankie. Please." He doesn't make you clarify this time.

His finger slides in easy and you both moan out in pleasure. He slowly slides his finger out of you and back in. He does this a couple of times before adding a second finger. You give him another small moan at this. He continues like this for a few seconds before he lifts his head. You open your mouth to protest but are silenced by a third finger entering you. You gasp and Frankie looks at you, concern on his face. You give him a small nod, reassuring him, and the feral look on his face returns.

He starts to move his fingers in and out of you, the room filling with wet squelching sounds. And then he curls his fingers, tapping them repeatedly on that sweet spot he always seems to magically locate. You throw your head back and grip his hair tighter, pulling his face towards your core inadvertently. Frankie seizes this moment and starts licking and sucking his way up and down your seam. "F-f-f Frankie" you whisper out as you feel yourself quickly building towards orgasm. Frankie, knowing your body, moves his hand faster and faster. His tongue and mouth find your bud. He licks it for a bit and then latches his mouth to it and sucks. "FRANCISCO!" you scream out as you come, hard. Your hand spasms and jerks Frankie’s nose right into your clit causing you to see more stars. “FUCK FUCK FUCK!” Frankie works you through your release and back down, your body twitching from the sheer force of it all. When he's sure you're finished, he removes his fingers from you and you whine. He gives your pussy a kiss and you jump from the sensitivity. He stands and licks his fingers clean, staring at you the whole time. He stands like that for a minute, watching you slowly return to your senses. You blink up at him and realize that feral look on his face is back. You know what he wants. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want it too, despite that fucking amazing orgasm.

Gathering your energy, you start to scoot back off the other side of the bed. You stand up and look at Frankie, the bed between you both. A moment passes, each of you staring at the other with increasing desire, and you run. Frankie snarls with a smirk and lunges towards you. You just dodge his grip as you pass the edge of the bed to run around the couch. You each move left and right, mimicking the others actions. Without breaking eye contact, Frankie launches himself over the back of the couch at you and you squeal and run around the couch. You get back around it when strong fingers grip your arm and spin you around. You let out a squeak as he grips your hips and pushes your ass up against the back of the couch. His mouth latches onto yours, a desperate need behind it that you match. His hands travel up to feel your breasts, pinching and twisting through the fabric of your dress as you cry out. He laughs against your mouth, a puff of air onto your swollen lips. His hands roam down your body and find your hips again. He pulls back and spins you around, putting his large hand on your back pushing you into the couch. His foot kicks your legs apart as his hands gather up the fabric of your dress, pushing it over your hips.

He pauses for a moment, staring at you. Then he traces lines up your bare thighs, moving up your body. You feel the patches of rough skin on his hands catch on your skin and it makes you gasp. Then suddenly he lays his body on you, surrounding you. You sink a little more into the couch and turn your head to the side, taking a breath that you didn’t realize you were holding. You feel his warm breath on your ear and then he whispers, with that strained, raspy voice that you love “Caught you, baby girl.”

FUCK FUCK FUCK.

You can’t think - you’re surrounded by Frankie. His breath on your ear, the smell of him, the weight of him pushing you into the couch. And that fucking voice. You can feel your arousal dripping down your inner thighs and you let out a breathy sound. The moment passes quickly and he pushes himself back up. He reaches between your legs and runs his fingers between your folds. “Fuck you’re so wet.” He chokes out the last word and something snaps. You hear the sound of his belt buckle being undone and his pants being drug down his legs. Without warning, he grips your hips hard as he pushes himself inside you. You both scream out in pleasure as he bottoms out, balls slapping against you. He pauses for a brief moment before he slowly drags himself out of you. He rubs his long, hard length through your folds and you moan and start to squirm. He puts a hand on your back with enough force to keep you from moving, but not enough to hurt you. “What do you need?” He growls and you just know he is holding back. You turn your head as much as you can and you see his face. He looks like he lost himself for a moment and you figure that he’s worried he hurt you. He usually takes it slow entering you, giving you time to adjust to him. I fucking love this man. You catch his eye and you smile at him “Don’t hold back.”

All concern disappears from his face, momentarily replaced with shock. He grips your hair and pulls you up, your back against his chest. His mouth is next to your ear as he says, that feral tone seeping through every word “I’m going to have to carry you out of here if I do that.” FUCK. Without hesitation, you say “Good thing you have those broad shoulders and strong arms then.” And just to clarify you add "Destroy me, Francisco."

He lets out a hiss that’s part growl and shoves you back down. He quickly lines up and pushes into you, bottoming out in one push. He finds that spot inside you by his second thrust and you see stars. The sounds coming out of you both are guttural, primal, frantic. “You take my cock so well,” Frankie says, each word accentuated with a thrust. “F-f-f fuck Frankie!” You feel every inch of him sliding out of you and slamming back in and every thrust hits that magic spot in you, radiating out a pain pleasure sensation across your body. “You like that, querida? Like how my cock slides in and out of you? Fits perfectly in that pretty pussy of yours?” Frankie chokes out. A thought passes your mind: He’s still holding back. “Let go Frankie. Fuck me as hard as you want. Fuck me into this couch. Let them all hear how well you fuck me.”

And it’s like you can feel all restraint leave his body at your request. His thrusts become faster and deeper. Your hips are slammed into the couch and you know you’re going to have bruises and more bruises where his hands grip your hips, but you really don’t give a fuck. The thick, leather couch you are bent over starts scraping across the floor with each thrust. “Fuck, FRANKIE!” you scream out as he sets this new, harder pace that is absolutely destroying you and you want it to keep going. You notice in the back of your mind that you’re slowly being pushed over the couch, sliding down it and you squirm to try and right yourself, not wanting to miss a moment of contact. Noticing what’s happening, Frankie grips your hips even tighter and pulls you back hard on him as he thrusts with extra vigor and you come, hard. Your entire body explodes as you scream “FRANCISCO!” Your arousal gushes out from around Frankie, dripping down your legs as you try to grasp anything to keep you grounded. Your whole body feels like it is a live wire, every touch giving you new sensations. Just when you think you’re coming down, Frankie thrusts and you fall over the edge again just as hard. You scream out his name again and his pace speeds up and becomes more erratic. “Fucking. FILL. ME. UP. Francisco!" You yell each word with a thrust. He thrusts in once more and lets go and you feel his warmth filling you. He keeps coming and coming, giving a little thrust each time he does. The sounds that he makes, the grunts and cries of pure pleasure, go straight to your core and you somehow come again just at those sounds. You scream as you clench around him again, and he yelps in pleasure as he comes more, your pulsing walls coaxing more out of him. He collapses against you, his sweaty forehead sticking to your back through the slit in your dress. You both stay like that and pant for a while, trying to catch your breath. You come to your senses somewhat and manage to reach around and run your fingers through his hair, massaging the part of his head that you can reach. He hums into your touch and you stay like that a little longer, Frankie finally softening inside you.

Eventually, he drags himself upright and pulls out of you with a hiss. You feel your mixed arousals dripping down your legs. You whine at the loss of him inside you and around you. “Don’t move,” Frankie says quietly. You hear him move around behind you to the bathroom, wetting a towel there and bringing it over to you. A warm cloth held by loving hands cleans you. When he’s done, he drops the towel to the floor where some of your mixed arousals lay. He lays a gentle hand on your arm and shoulder and helps you to stand up carefully. You immediately start to fall over and he catches you, guiding you and your weakened legs to the bed to lay down. You know you will need help to get out of this room and you probably won’t walk straight for at least a week, but you would have this feeling always if you could.

He climbs on the bed next to you, laying on his side and using his arm to prop himself up. You look at his face when he turns to look at you. You expect a look of fucked-out bliss, but what you see is concern. His hand cups your cheek, rubbing it with his thumb. He gives you those sad, puppy eyes that make you want to do anything he says. “Did I hurt you?” he whispers, as if saying it louder will make it true. You smile at him and run your fingers through the hair at the back of his neck, making him purr. “The only way you’ll hurt me is if you never do that again.” Concern is quicky replaced with the happy, post sex bliss look that you love on him. “Oh, we will definitely be doing that again, sweet girl.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

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Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @astoryisaloveaffair @softpedropascal

@marvelousmermaid @icanbeyourjedi @theewokingdead @f0rever15elf @mesmorales

[samsspambox]

please please talk abt your ace artem ideas i barely see that hc and i love it sm😭😭

bksjdbk hI NONNIE!!!

honestly, i've had this hc since i first started playing this game cuz one look at that mf and he just screams demi/ace to me, ya know?? its also bc i do project onto that mf and im demi as well, but that's beside the point jkbdskjbs. and then zak also thinks artem is demi |another link here| so like,,, it's out there!! the game also gives us solid material to think he's on the ace spectrum!

like,, spoiler-free for the meantime but back in his personal story 1/main story one, it's said that artem never had a partner, not for work or not in his love life. personal story 4 also gives us content to work with (iykyk). but you came here for hcs nonnie, and i shall give you hcs

artem wing ace hcs that you can pry from my cold, dead hands

first of all, he feels weird about it

he sees people his age start talking about sex and stuff and he's just like ??? have yall tried the new coffee today its great jskbdkjb

and,,, i know we give him shit for being a virgin and all and that he has no bitches but like

artem wing can pull bitches

its just that he just hasn't,, engaged bc it's weird?? people want him for his looks??? where's the emotional connection??????

i think this is one thing that he feels like he's behind on and it took him a good minute just to accept the fact that he's comfortable with being behind on this one

definitely has those moments where he's like "wait, that song was about sex?!"

i wanna put him in the 'he's also demiromantic' box but i feel like artem just,,, genuinely forgot about romantic love jkbsjdb

like he'd been so busy doing his work and doing all these good things for people that the second he stopped all of his emotions caught up to him and he was just like 'oh.'

i feel like once he said 'that person is aesthetically pleasing' after neil asked him if he thought a person was hot and then neil just nodded his head

that's not to say he doesn't experience libido or horniness bc im pretty sure he does

just that it only happens in specific situations that he knows how to avoid and therefore it doesn't happen frequently/at all.

probably covered his eyes during sex scenes as a kid not bc he was flustered, but because he couldn't understand why it was happening and everyone covered his eyes anyway so might as well

his personal take is that when there's a movie whose plot has need-less sex he turns it off jksbdkjsb

and yeah! those are some i have from the top of my head, feel free to add more if yall want!

[bcdrawsandwrites]

Fandom: Psychonauts

Rating: K+

Genre: Gen?? Sickfic?? mild H/C??? you got me, man

Characters: Caligosto Loboto, Boyd Cooper, Gloria Von Gouton, Fred Bonaparte, Crispin Whytehead, Sheegor

Warnings: Vomit, blood, depictions of sickness... (SPOILERS: implied torture + amputation)

Description: Loboto is having a very bad night. The inmates are not helping.

Beta Readers: @jaywings​ and Rocket

Notes: This fic is based on a theory that comes from a few figments in Loboto’s mental world in the demo footage of Psychonauts 2. ...also I wrote this while sick with a fever, edited it while still sick, and illustrated the cover while recovering from said sickness. have fun

—~~~—

He did not remember arriving back at the tower.

Partially because he wasn't even back in the tower, instead standing on the frosty shoreline, the chilly waves lapping at his boot heels.

Loboto stared dumbly out at the cliffside for a long moment before frustration simmered beneath his fogged mind. Yes! Of course, they wouldn't send him back to his lab. No! He could do with a good climb, especially on a frigid night like this! His chest heaved with quiet, dazed laughter before he took a gasp of cold air that grated against his sore throat.

The wind, though not harsh, cut through every part of him that wasn't covered by his shower cap or lab coat like a fine knife, as cold as it was painful. It grazed his shoulder, and his vision went white as his mechanical eyes flashed. But even with the blasted optics glitching, he could still see. His imagination ran wild with absurd visions of ridiculous things that had never happened.

On top of that, the slice of pain brought with it a violent realization that it was not the only pain he was in. The numb shock he’d been in gave way to an agony that tore through him, ripping up and down his side, nearly bringing him to his knees. No, no, no, that pain could not be real, just like the horrific visions of red and yellow that flashed through his mind. It was all a trick—all a stupid trick from his malfunctioning eyes and his brain. Pah!

He found himself clawing at his shower cap, occasionally stopping to smack his mechanical eyes a few times until they flickered back into focus, the desolate beach snapping back into view. "Enough of this!" he growled hoarsely at the sand beneath him. "That little army man will be back any day now, and we can't keep him waiting."

With a grunt, Loboto marched forward and heaved himself up onto the first narrow ledge, already finding his body shuddering with the effort and his mind struggling to push back the imaginary waves of pain. "Ridiculous!" he blurted into the rock he leaned against for balance. "A child can climb a mountain ten times this height!" And it wasn't like he'd never done it, either. Muscle memory helped him get from one step to the other, but keeping his balance was harder than normal, especially as his mind repeatedly dipped back into brain fog.

His eyes flickered in a blink when he found himself on the ladder, his boot slipping on the frosty wood and one hand losing its grip. Realizing he was about to fall, he flung his weight back against the ladder, biting down on the nearest rung to keep himself in place. A frantic giggle worked its way through his clenched teeth—ah, teeth! Useful for so many things! They would never let him down.

If you let us down one more time—

Ripping himself away from the rung and leaving rough teeth-marks behind, he let out a snarl and heaved himself the rest of the way up the ladder and onto the ledge. He sat on his knees for the moment, his mechanical eyes pulling back as he tried to make sense of the gate that seemed to be spinning around him. No, not just the gate—the entire cliffside spun beneath him like some wild carnival ride. He couldn't remember it doing that before, but the absurdity of it made him laugh, the action tearing through his sore throat. Yet he continued to laugh until his stomach lurched and a cascade of vomit silenced him.

He managed to scoot himself away, spitting and coughing as the world slowly came to a halt. At the same time, a figure that had been sleeping against the opposite wall snapped alert with a panicked gasp.

"Ah—ah!" Boyd stammered, scrambling to his feet and whipping his head around until he spotted Loboto on the ground. "Who are you working for?"

"That fool Oleander," Loboto grumbled under his breath, his eyes swiveling to glare at him.

Boyd's eyes blinked separately before recognition dawned upon him. "Y-yes! Of course!" Fumbling with his keys, he got to work unlocking the gate. "It's said he knows the milkman..."

Gritting his teeth, Loboto shakily began to push himself back upright. A large hand suddenly clapped against his shoulder, and he gave a yell as he was heaved to his feet. Without turning to look, he struck at the one who'd grabbed him. "Tricky terrible traitors try to trap—"

"AH—no, I am no traitor, I am the guard!" Boyd cried, stumbling back and holding up his hands as Loboto found his balance.

The two stared at each other for a tense moment, Loboto's eyes glowing harshly as Boyd trembled beneath his gaze. He couldn't help feeling a twinge of satisfaction at seeing his subordinate cower.

"Th... the milk is not ready yet!" Boyd said, wincing away as he eyed the doctor's clenched fist.

Loboto stared.

"I'm lactose intolerant."

Boyd glanced at something on the ground. "I-I noticed."

With a growl, Loboto finally marched past the guard, who frantically closed the gate behind him.

Now that that mess was over, he could finally get back up to his lab and get back to—

He paused.

"SHEEGOR!"

His voice boomed through the empty grounds. It was empty of people, now empty of crows, and empty of elevators.

When his assistant did not spontaneously appear, he clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white beneath his glove. "Yes! Wonderful!" he proclaimed to no one as he stamped toward the withered garden with a harsh laugh. "I can scale this dilapidated tower myself then. Fine night for some exercise!"

He knew his way through his asylum, of course, so it wouldn't be overly difficult, but he would have much preferred the express elevator so he could get back to work immediately. But as it was, he ducked through the entrance to the greenhouse, fighting to keep steady as the action made his head spin, his back ache (no it didn’t, he was fine), and his shower cap to catch against the branches overhead. Turning his optics up, he pressed a hand down into the cap, pulling it away from the plants. He'd hoped to avoid the woman who occupied this corner of the asylum, but as he straightened his back, he bumped into one of the flowerpots, knocking it to the ground with a dull clunk.

"My, you need to buy seats in advance if you want to come to my shows!" Gloria said, turning to him with a patient, hazy smile. "No need to be harassing the paying customers."

"What do they pay you in? Leaves? Seeds?" Loboto asked, the frantic giggle that followed clashing with his strained smile.

Gloria ignored the comment, glancing him over and waving him off. "Please see yourself out. I'm not an usher, but since they seem to be ignoring their duties, I'll have to tell you you cannot bring food or drink into the theater."

Swiveling his optics in an approximation of an eye roll, Loboto turned away to head out the other side of the greenhouse. "I don't have any."

"Not anymore, but anyone can see that wine you've sloshed onto your nice suit."

Loboto froze.

"It's a wonder it didn't get onto the carpet—"

The next thing he knew, he was staring down at an entire line of flower pots that lay in pieces on the floor of the greenhouse.

"Oh!" Gloria cried. "I'm sorry, ladies and gentlemen, I'm sure the ushers will attend to this ruffian, and the play can resume..."

He left her to continue rambling to her imaginary audience as he tried to rid the imaginary nonsense (visions, pain, glowing yellow eyes) from his mind. "Fickle fumbling females feeling faint for fading flowers..." he mumbled as he stepped into the lower floor of the asylum. It brought its usual sights and sounds of one of the former orderlies dozing over a makeshift game board (with stolen game pieces, he noted), the artist in the room overhead scraping old brushes furiously against a canvas, and finally Crispin standing dutifully in front of the asylum's only other elevator.

"Crispin!" Loboto said, and the man turned to face somewhere slightly to his left. "Let me up, will you?"

"Of course, Doctor Loboto." Crispin turned toward the elevator controls, only to pause, his dull eyes squinting as he turned back. "Wait..."

"Wait for what?" Loboto threw out his arm in a wide gesture. "Do you want to hear that army man ranting at us again? Or perhaps you find it funny! Though it is, isn't it? Shouting about sneezing powder and tanks! HAH!"

While he'd been talking, Crispin had been leaning forward, eyeing him up and down. He frowned. "You're not Doctor Loboto," he said at length.

"WHAT?!"

Behind him, Fred sprang to his feet. "Sacré bleu! We have fallen asleep on ze battlefield!"

Ignoring the man and his terrible French accent, Loboto stepped closer to Crispin, finding himself trembling—in rage or in suppressed laughter or something else, he wasn't sure. "Of course I'm Doctor Loboto! I was, last I checked. Highly trained and professional!"

"Yes, well," Crispin began, leaning back and raising a brow, "the real Doctor Loboto does not wear an actual straitjacket. It's merely a strappy jacket fashioned from one."

"This is my jacket, you milky-eyed moron!" Loboto cried, tugging on the front of his coat in demonstration. "It doesn't have my arms tied up!" He lunged toward Crispin to grab him by the collar, but stumbled as the world spun once more. He struggled to keep his stomach from flipping again.

"Well, that's because you're wearing it poorly. But you are certainly not Doctor Loboto. I can tell. You don't have the right jacket, or the right complexion." He tipped his head. "The real Doctor Loboto is blue, not sickly gray. As you can see, you can't fool me. Now go back to wherever you came from and—"

"He has returned from ze war!" Fred blurted behind him. He blinked, then shook his head, hunching in on himself. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt, we really shouldn't—" He straightened again. "Yes, shut up! We are in ze presence of a great war hero!"

Crispin rolled his eyes. "What are you going on about now, Fred?"

"Do you not see? He bears ze blood of his enemies upon his robes, and ze scars of victory—"

Loboto whirled on him faster than he could think, managing a swift kick to Fred's shin.

With a yelp, the man crashed to the ground, curling up on himself and whining. "Ohhh... can we just postpone the battle until morning?" He twitched. "NON! Ze enemy never sleeps, so neither shall we!"

"Well, Fred's down for the count again," Cripsin remarked. "So if you're done, kindly step away from my elevator and off the nearest cliff, thanks."

Loboto wanted nothing more than to knock Crispin to the ground and find a few bad teeth to remove, but his vision was blurring and flickering, and he found it hard to think.

"No, really, we can't fight in the dark, and the enemy can't either, can they?" "Rrrrrghhh, I suppose you are right, for once. We shall camp here for now, but come sunrise, we fight!"

A weak laugh made its way past his lips as he stared down at the former orderly settling on the cobblestone. Yes, that crazy man had a point. There was no point in fighting tonight—he'd get his work done in the morning. And that work would have to include getting back into his lab in the first place.

After a brief moment, he snatched an item from the floor before stumbling back through the greenhouse and toward the entrance.

A nice night for sleeping under the stars, he supposed.

---~~~---

Judging by how bright the world was by the time his mechanical eyes flickered back on, the sun was starting to rise. But he couldn't tell for sure when there was a large metal cage blocking his view, with something else within—

"He said he would be back by nightfall, but he hasn't come!" a high pitched voice cried as a familiar form stepped out of the elevator, her back to him. "Oh Mr. Pokeylope, do you think he's gone for good this time?"

The corner of Loboto's mouth twitched.

"Oops!" She clapped an oven mitt over her mouth. "I'm glad he's not around to hear me say that," she said as she began to turn. "If he was, he'd be—EEK!"

Sheegor jumped back at the sight of Loboto laying sprawled out at the foot of the fountain, having slept (or passed out) there the remainder of the night. He clutched his worn teddy close to his chest and stared her in the eyes.

"Oh—I—I—!" Sheegor held her pet turtle close to herself. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry Doctor Loboto, I didn't mean any of that, I—"

"Yes, well it's a nice morning, isn't it?" Loboto grumbled, tucking the teddy bear under his arm so he could push himself to his feet. His entire body ached (from sleeping on the ground, not from anything else). "A nice morning to get some work done after you left me stranded here all night!" He took a threatening—but wobbling—step forward, fist clenched.

Oddly, Sheegor didn't seem as intimidated as usual. Her mouth gaped, and her eyes darted between his face and his right side.

"What are you looking at?"

"Y... you..." A trembling mitt was covering her open mouth. "D-Doctor! What happened to you?!"

His eyes flickered. "I slept out here with a rock for a pillow."

"N-no, it's—it's—!" Her whole body was shaking now, but not, he sensed, in fear of him. It should have made him angry, but exhaustion pulled at him instead, making his frame droop.

"Yes? Well, spit it out."

Sheegor held out one hand, pointed toward his right side. "Y-your arm!"

Loboto's optics slowly angled down to his right. For the first time he noticed the enormous, darkened bloodstains on his jacket, and a torn, empty sleeve hanging limply at his side.

"Oh," he said dully, feeling himself wobble as the pain finally worked its way to the forefront of his mind. "How did that happen?"

At once the world tipped to the side, and Sheegor caught him, straining to keep him from fully collapsing to the ground.

Wordlessly she helped him into the elevator, letting him lean onto her while he bit back the urge to scream. He wanted to protest, to berate her for touching him, but everything felt distant, even the upper floor of the asylum as they rapidly ascended toward it. And anyway, once they reached the top, anything he would have said was held back by his rolling stomach ejecting whatever bile still occupied it.

As he gagged, he could hear Sheegor whispering to the turtle in her mitts: "I know, I know, but I-I can't leave him like that—th-the asylum wouldn't... w-we were supposed to..."

"Just... get back to work... Sheegor," he managed to slur around the acrid taste in his mouth. Bitter bile breaks brittle bones of the mouth.

Sheegor looked from him to her turtle a few times, her mouth wobbling, and carefully eased his arm over her hunched back again. Instead of leading him to his lab, however, she led him down into the asylum, into the usual room he slept in: a mostly-intact bedroom with a mattress and blankets over a broken bed frame shoved into one corner, a chair and a desk with papers scattered across it, and a meticulously crafted and framed (and official) DDS license on the wall.

After easing him down into the bed, Sheegor stepped back, looking away. "Um... I-if you want, Doctor, I can clean that robe..."

His initial thought was that the blood stains made a wonderful addition to his ensemble, but glancing down at them again caused his brain to supply him with more awful, made-up nonsense. No, he wouldn't have that any longer.

With some amount of struggling he managed to get the thing off, unceremoniously tossing it in Sheegor's general direction. She managed to catch it and quickly scurried out. "I'll get this back to you as soon as I can Doctor bye!" she squeaked before the door slammed behind her, leaving Loboto sitting in the empty room.

Everything felt surreal, being in familiar surroundings after spending an entire night on freezing cobblestone. The sight when his gaze turned downward, however, was less familiar: there was new stitching across his chest, and on his right shoulder where his arm had been. It was cleanly done—they hadn't wanted him too much worse for wear, since he still had a job to do for—

Oleander. He had a job to do for Oleander right now. The sneezing powder, yes. His mind drifted over the things they'd discussed in their last meeting.

They'd both figured out a way for it to be made, more or less. The remaining issue was how to properly dispense the stuff. Oleander had suggested keeping it in a bag, but that was easily-spilled, and it may lose potency if pre-ground. But what was he supposed to do? He didn't have a grinder with him on-hand at all times—

A shock of brilliance bolted through him, and he stumbled to his desk with renewed energy. He grabbed a well-chewed pencil and began to write, his non-dominant hand shaking badly as he forced it into motions it was not used to.

But that was fine. It wouldn't have that job for long.

A manic giggle bubbled out of his throat as he worked out the notes and rough sketches, detailing a jointed pepper grinder with claws and a strap to secure it to his now-unoccupied side.

This loss of a limb, baffling as it was, was exactly what he needed.