#gray redux

[cressida-jayoungr]

One Dress a Day Challenge

November: Grey Redux

The Millionairess / Maggie Smith as Epifania Ognisanti di Parerga

Maggie Smith is the ultimate in 1930s chic in head-to-toe grey with extravagant furs on top of a fur-trimmed cape. She even has grey hose, shoes, gloves, and purse. A side-of-the-head hat with a filmy veil and flower-shaped metallic ornament finishes off the outfit.

The Millionairess was presented as a BBC Play of the Month in 1972. The costume designer was Rita Reekie, who worked on many BBC shows from the 1960s to the 1990s.

[bonefall]

Been thinking a lot about the idea that a StarClan cat appearance becomes more fantasy-like based on the stories of them and how they're perceived by the living. So new spirits would look more like how they were alive while older spirits would look different.

[ID: A sketch of BB!Gray Wing, Patron of Wisdom, over many generations. Xeir hood has changed into the wings of two pheasants, with their eyes overlapping xeir own, and beaks crossing above the nose. Xeir body is covered in illegible script.]

While I do imagine they keep a "BE NOT AFRAID" normal-form that they can choose to appear as, yes. Over time, ancestral spirits begin to lose touch with their mortal forms and become abstractions.

Once, long ago, the Four Seasonal Gods resembled something very much like an ancient patron of Silverpelt. In comparison to Rock, Sol, Midnight, and Sharptooth, even the oldest spirit in StarClan (Gray Wing) is still an infant.

Partner and I are still designing the other founders but Gray Wing and Clear Sky are pretty solid.

[ID: A sketch of BB!Skystar, Patron of War, over many generations. He is wearing a thousand pelts stitched together like a king's robe, flowing down his body.]

[dojunie]

MISDIAL; LJN [CH5] VOICEMAIL REDUX

[★]; [MISDIAL MASTERLIST] [PREVIOUS PART] [NEXT PART]

info;

lee jeno x fem!reader

college au

chaptered

very slow burn

genre; not-quite-friends to lovers, older brother mark lee, brothers best friend lee jeno, light angst, yn is a menace to society, story/character driven

warnings for this chapter; kys mention in joking manner

chapter wc: ...13K

a/n: i couldn't decide between posting this monster whole or cutting it into two parts, but two parts kind of makes the pacing weird, so here she is in all her glory! been editing this so long that i've gotten sick of looking at it so im just going to release it into the world now LOL, pls pls pls give me feedback on this chapter, im not 100% satisfied w it but i cant tell if its because it sucks or i've just been rereading it too much 🥸

current tl: @hibernatinghamster / @jenoxygen / @eaglesnotravens / @donutswithjaminthemiddle / @jvjsssnaa / @huangrenhyucks / @luvenshiti / @shiningdery / @jaeminsbebu / @aliceinwhateverland / @bebsky / @gem-gem / @jkjkseo / @jenosbliss / @pewpewpwe00 / @ti–red / @philanarose / @softbbyg0rl / @aaasteroidsky / @carelessshootanonymous / @en-boyz / @jlsavyy / @roseymerrie / @bangchanisemo / @skuezk / @jaehyuns-adorable-dimples / @ourbeautifulaffair / @jeonnyread / @jvjsssnaa / @episkeyjeno / @bockhyun / @jenojammin / @zarastrawberry / @peachie-bear / @itadaramaterasu / @alymii / @cuteejeno / @episkeyjeno / @nohunlee / @ooojisoo / @luv4jeno / @jydivrs / @pinkysinnerbaby / @jenojenoyes / @maeyoung / @axmdocs / @nctzennikki09

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FORGET WHAT YOU SAID ABOUT NEVER BEING ABLE TO GET MAD AT SOMI, BECAUSE THIS TIME, YOU’RE REALLY GOING TO KILL HER.

At this exact moment in time, the Aegon Showcase is set to begin in about fifteen minutes. You’ve got half of a chocolate muffin stuffed into your mouth (courtesy of Somi sneaking a few snacks from the audience lounge, since the dancers technically weren’t supposed to be eating any of the guest refreshments), and you were about halfway through swallowing this chunk of bread when Somi said something that made you nearly choke.

For context: six and a half days have passed since you’ve last spoken to Jeno.

And you haven’t been counting, either. It just so happens that it is surprisingly easy to recall every passing minute when each one feels like it’s been put there specifically to test you.

The afternoon after the Balcony Incident, for example— a few fresh hours after you left Lee Jeno behind on that overlook with the full intention of never looking him in the eyes ever again. After a late breakfast with Somi you’d told her you weren’t feeling too well, that you’d be leaving a little earlier than planned (which, even though you’d said your pain was of the intestinal variety, wasn’t untrue; you didn’t feel well, if the widening pit in your stomach caused by that morning was anything to go by) and departed her penthouse a little after one. 

You’d foolishly hoped that Jeno and his entourage would have plans literally anywhere other than Mark’s place for once, wanting to do nothing but silently mope around the apartment for a few hours once you'd gotten home, but you’d been naive.

You’d been so, so naive.

“Oh!” you’d heard. Renjun. Brown hair, big dark eyes peeking at you around the doorframe as you cradled your now-aching nose bridge. You opened the front door and crashed face first into something solid. “Hey, you. Perfect timing. Do you wanna come grocery shopping with us? Jaemin’s cooking tonight!”

“We’ll even let you ride in the cart,” Chenle chimed in from further into the hallway, grinning wickedly, but you couldn’t focus on either of them because they were both half-hidden behind what you’d smashed into with your haste to get inside. No gray flannel this time, but the same unreadable expression on his face as he, much like he did at the party last night, instinctively grabbed you to keep you from falling on your ass.

(Or his expression was unreadable. Until his eyes trained on something about your face that he didn’t like and his dark eyebrows furrowed with something akin to concern. Then you remembered you’d been crying all morning and surely looked like some sort of dried-out blowfish, eyelids puffy and swollen, so you averted your eyes and jumped out of his grip like he’d stung you.)

“Busy,” you told them quickly, “Sorry. Not today.”

Renjun pouted. Chenle squinted at you, obviously doubtful. And when Jeno finally moved out of the way, you didn’t even thank him for keeping you upright. You just kept your attention on the ground and beelined into the apartment.

Little did you know, that one word would become your mantra. Busy, busy, busy. But it wasn’t like you were completely lying, because you were busy. The Aegon showcase was in a week which meant you had practice every free hour with Somi and the others, and the last thing you needed was to get distracted by circling Jeno like some kind of sad, miserable shark. The good thing about being out of the house so often was that most of the week passed with no more Jeno-related incidents.

Thursday night ended up being the first time you’d seen him with your own eyes since you face-planted into him the previous Saturday.

You’d returned home at 10PM, sweaty and exhausted from a last minute choreo change that had, apparently, also wiped clean the memory of what Thursday nights meant in the Mark Lee household. Movie night. The tiredness you felt was so all-encompassing that upon the discovery of all seven of them sitting around the couch staring at you as you entered, there wasn’t even enough energy to feel awkward. Even then, you must not have looked as ghastly as you felt because Jaemin smiled at you like nothing was amiss, gesturing towards the dining table and the mountain of brown bags atop it.

“You’re late, Rockstar. Take-out’s gone cold.”

Jeno was sitting right next to him. Your muscles were like jelly. All of your bones hurt. Your brain felt like it was operating on nothing but fumes. (And this is what you blamed for your cowardice— the fact that you couldn’t even hold your head up to look in his direction in fear of catching his eye.)

After everyone had gone home and you had free reign of the kitchen once again, Mark hit you with a few more questions about the Aegon Comp; seemingly insignificant inquiries like how the parking situation was (which you didn’t understand the importance of, since he said he’d probably ride his bike there), and if he could sit wherever he wanted (which again, confused you, because the ticke you’d gotten him was one of the best in house). But in your state of fatigue you didn’t think to question it. All you wanted to do was eat something and go to bed, and that’s exactly what you did.

(If you’d had your wits about you maybe you’d have put two and two together. Maybe Somi’s words wouldn’t have caught you with the surprise they did. But as it stands…)

As it stands it’s Friday afternoon, the day of the Aegon Showcase, and half a chocolate muffin is stuffed into your face (technically now stuffed into your airway) as you come to the realization that your friend might secretly be trying to ruin your life.

“You really need to stop eating your food so fast,” Jiara murmurs, clapping you on the back with a little more force than necessary. “No one is going to take it from you. Smaller bites will go a long way.”

You gasp a breath when the chunk finally unsticks. Then, “You saw who in the audience lounge?”

Somi is nonplussed by your horror.

“I saw your brother out there trying to throw a skittle over a lighting fixture and still catch it in his mouth. When I was leaving with our food I think I heard a bunch of people cheer so I’d bet he managed to do it, which, when you think about how high these ceilings are, is actually pretty impressive—”

You fight the urge to grab her by her shoulders and shake her. “I’m not asking about the goddamn skittles!” you hiss. “Somi, you said you saw ‘them’ when you went out there. Them as in plural. Who is them?”

She makes a face like you should already know who. “Who else? Mark and the rest of his crew. And Donghyuck asked to bring a few more, so I guess those are who the other guys out there are. Why are you acting like you didn’t already know this? You were sitting right next to me when Donghyuck was practically begging to come!”

Your life flashes before your eyes.

Jeno’s car. The rain, pounding against the windows. Catching him looking at you in the mirror after Somi told them about the showcase, how it felt like the world outside faded away a little as some little message passed between you— when you felt like he was telling you something without saying a single word.

Then you remember it. In your distant, distant periphery, even though she’d been sitting not even a millimeter to your left when these alleged plans were discussed.

‘Yeah! I mean, I reserved like, a bajillion seats in advance because I knew I’d want to invite everyone who would even consider coming— I’ll definitely get the best row for you guys!’

“However,” she says after a beat, voice finally starting to show the tiniest bit of caution. You realize that your face has begun to contort on its own. “I am starting… to get vibes. That I maybe should have run that by you first? Would now be a bad time to let you know that I told them about the afterparty, too?”

Utter disbelief. The only reason you don’t leap on her once you fully comprehend what she’s said is because Gawon, who’d been watching this entire exchange with quiet brown eyes, puts a hand on your shoulder. She must be able to tell that you’re about to start freaking out, because her therapist-voice is fully activated when she clears her throat.

“Can I ask what's so surprising about this?” she asks carefully. “When we were telling Aegon about how many tickets we each wanted, you said you only needed one. For your brother, right?”

You thought of the ticket, the little envelope you’d held under your pillow for weeks as you fought with the idea of actually giving it to Mark. In the end, a few days ago, when you handed it to him and told him he could come watch you perform if he wanted to, he smiled so big that you felt bad for waiting so long in the first place. But you’d then quickly explained the caveat: that he was not to tell any of the others about it, because there was only one ticket and you didn’t want them hassling you about getting more. And Mark agreed.

Which is why you’d dared to assume that tonight would be safe.

“Yes,” you mutter. “The ticket was for him.”

“Which means you’re not surprised he’s here. So are his friends the problem?”

“The problem?”

You pause. That word makes it seem like their appearance here is actually detrimental to you in some way, like they’re just here to hassle or bully you or something, but that’s not really it at all. Your annoyance at them being here is rooted in the exact opposite. They’re not going to joke around and take it easy, or pat you on the back and tell you that you did well, like how they would if they’d come to watch one of their friends dance. They’re going to swarm you and coo and treat you like a five year old that just stumbled through their first ballet recital.

And as if that isn't bad enough, you realize with a start that you've actually got more to worry about than just being embarrassed by their innate need to baby you.

They, you remember yet again. Plural.

You quickly fix your doomsday-esque expression. "Uh. No, no problem, just... I'm over-exaggerating, forget it, Somi, when you said they, how many are we talking exactly?"

"Seven," she says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and you fight to keep your shoulders from sagging. "The three from the car, your brother, and three others I don't really know as well, but who're all just as cute."

Seven. Which means Lee Jeno will be in the audience as well. You should've already known that, fully aware that wherever Mark goes Jeno will follow, but you'd been so startled by the change in attendance that you'd momentarily forgotten that you were pointedly avoiding one of that seven.

Great.

A click echoes over the announcement system. You recognize the voice that follows as the organizer of the showcase, the cheerful woman from the promotional video, happily informing all the performers to head to their greenrooms for final warm-ups before the show.

Well. Even if you wanted to mope for longer about your predicament, your mind switches lanes to the task at hand. Somi and Gawon both titter excitedly at the update, but make sure to quickly give their final reassurances about not worrying too much about the people in the audience and using that energy to give your all on stage. They’re right of course, and you probably would have come to this conclusion on your own once you swallowed your knee-jerk reaction to gripe about everything involving your brother and his friends, but you can’t say that their enthusiasm doesn't do the heavy lifting of bringing you back to earth.

You've got a competition to rock, after all. You could worry about everything else after.

Adrenaline made the hour-long showcase go by in what seemed like fifteen seconds. 

Just like that, a short chapter of your life closed with a bang; seven minutes on the stage, deafening cheers, Jiara and Guyeon pulling everyone into one big sweaty hug as soon as you were all out of the spotlight— then you blink and you’re in Gawon’s car with the windows down blasting down Gangnam on the way to Somi’s house, the girls in the seats around you singing along to the radio at the top of their lungs. The sun is setting, you’re heading to your celebratory afterparty, and what should be a picture-perfect moment is completely ruined by the fact that your mind has been in shambles for the last hour and a half. Why?

Because as you inch closer and closer to Somi’s penthouse, all you can think about is the fact that Lee Jeno is sitting up there biding his time before he can stomp your heart into a million more microscopic pieces.

What you didn’t mention about the moments after the performance was that, after rushing through changing out of your performance outfit to find your friends and get the hell out of there, you stumbled out of the greenroom to find a person. A person who was frowning out in the corridor like some sort of mopey ghost, Jeno in all his annoyingly perfect glory, caught mid-pace.

Upon seeing him your body rebooted, a hundred different emotions flashing through your system from the shock of him appearing in front of you at that moment. The only thing you had time to notice before his words ruined the rest of your afternoon was how… fidgety he was; Running his hand through his hair, rocking from foot to foot, crossing and uncrossing his arms over his chest. You’d always taken note of how still Jeno could be sometimes, not moving an inch for seemingly hours at a time, which was the main reason his current inability to stay still even caught your eye— but it was quickly overtaken by the utter despair you felt not soon after he caught sight of you and opened his mouth.

“Can we talk?” he’d asked. And he’d sounded so unsure of himself that you almost instantly crumbled to the puppy-dog eyes, before reality grabbed you by the neck and you remembered that talking to him was actually the last thing you wanted to be doing right now. 

“Busy,” you’d forced out. “My friends are waiting for me outside.”

But he must’ve seen this coming because he looked nonplussed as you took a step back, his own feet matching yours stride for stride, hands coming out almost as if to calm you like one might a spooked horse.

“It won’t take longer than a few minutes,” he tried, “Five minutes, just five. I just— I really, really want to clarify a few things from Saturday. What I said on the balcony.”

He said it like there was a chance you might’ve forgotten what happened, which almost made you laugh in disbelief. Like it was possible to forget that shitshow, your first love telling you that he was kind of interested in you once upon a time, but did nothing about it because your brother came first. Though, once you fully realized that he meant he wanted to talk about that right now, the moment lost its humor.

Now? Here? You glanced up and down the hallway. Your friends weren’t around, nor were his, but you were hardly alone.

“I wasn’t being entirely—”

“You're going to the party, aren’t you?” You cut Jeno off. Very unlike you when it came to him, and with the way he blinked you had a feeling he knew that too.

“The party?” 

“Somi said she invited you guys.”

“I— I wasn't sure you wanted me to come.”

“Somi invited you, Lee. Is that any way to treat your hostess? We can—” You swallowed. “Come by, and we can find a minute to talk then, but for now I really—”

“Have to go,” he finished with a small wince. “Got it.”

And once he’d metaphorically let you go, taking a step back to slip his hands in his pockets, you’d all but run away; finding Guyeon and Gawon waiting for you like they said they’d be, ready to leave and head to Alice’s house to pretty-up for the party in her gigantic flat. You were trying your best to keep up the energy when you got into the car with them, laughing along to their jokes and dancing along to the music, but you couldn’t stop thinking of what type of curbstomp Jeno was about to release on the suffering remains of your sixteen year-old feelings. 

Even up until the final touches of your make-up, you were commiserating. What the hell could he possibly want to clarify? 

Was he going to tell you to stop being weird around him and the others, because your mood was fucking up their vibe? To stop avoiding him so obviously, that it was as noticeable for everyone as it felt for you, that it was making it awkward for him?

Or could he mean that he was going to tell you he’d… misspoken? That he’d never really liked you the way you liked him, and didn’t want you to misunderstand— by interested in you he meant in the way all guys were interested in all girls, some lowly, surface level thing that he quickly got over when he realized his friendship with your brother could be jeopardized by it?

The last thought had stung a little more than the others, and you’d accidentally frowned so hard about it that it creased your still-setting concealer and had to wipe it all off.

After angrily redoing your base you’d forced it from your mind and got dressed, stealing a simple henley dress from Gawon’s closet upon realizing that you were not in the mood for sexy-cute like Somi had said the dress code was. Instead you opted for ‘hey, you can see my legs and that's good enough,’ and huffed your old leather jacket on top of it; the latter was sure to piss her off but she still owed you from the Mosquito Boy Incident, so she could kick rocks about it for all you cared. 

You had a feeling that no matter what you wore, tonight wasn’t going to be very sexy-cute at all.

The party is just getting into the swing of things when you make it upstairs. It’s like the explosion of a birthday surprise when you and the girls walk through the door. This party is technically a celebration, and you guess a lot of these people must’ve been in the Aegon audience without you knowing it, because you’re getting congratulations and kudos and pats on the back like you’ve just won an olympic medal.

But your pride is short lived, tainted by a bolt of nerves when you think you spot someone that looks like Donghyuck in your periphery. Where Hyuck is, Jeno will be.

It turns out to only be a very tall girl with a pixie cut who winks at you when you whirl your head to her, but the stress of it doesn't ebb away. God. Is the whole night going to be like this? Walking on pins and needles until he finds you?

“You know, new girl,” A voice starts at your side, startling you further, “Your ice breaker back at that my party could’ve been that you’re a kick-ass dancer, instead of that bullshit with the mosquitos.”

Wooyoung. Your friends are suddenly nowhere to be seen when your turn to him, clearly having fucked off into the mass the second alcohol became available, so it’s just the both of you hovering over by this snack table. Though this is only the second or third time you’ve interacted with him past a greeting (you see him sometimes on campus, and he always waves at you like you’re best friends when you pass each other), you’re actually rather soothed by his presence. 

“You wanted to know juicy secrets, not secret hobbies. If you asked me for an ice breaker and I told you I could dance, you would’ve kicked me out of that house.”

He laughs, a snickering sound, before eyeing two jello-shots a girl walks by with in her hands.

“Do a shot with me?” he pouts. “My friends are running late and I’m still painfully sober.”

A shot?  

...Hm. A shot. Inebriation. You’re not one to like straight liquor because the burn in your throat is often more than you think the gag is worth. But if you’re looking to relax sooner rather than later… the pain might not be without its merit. 

Liquid courage. Something you could definitely use right now, as skittish as you’re being. Maybe he’s onto something.

“Just one?” you pique, turning to survey the options. “Thought you were more hardcore than that, VP.”

One jello-shot quickly turns into four with Wooyoung involved, and your mouth is sweet with the taste of artificial dye by the time you actually spot Donghyuck, over by Somi’s balcony doors chatting up some pretty girl you recognize from your physical education class. The volleyball player. Xiaoting or something close, and you almost snort at the sight because she seems way out of his league. But he has a way with words that you guess you could be attractive when he wields it with flirtation in mind, instead of the intent to piss off like he always does with you.

The Smirnoff burning in your stomach must already be settling in because you only mildly bristle when you see him. Like you thought earlier: Hyuck is here, which means Jeno is here. And… and the Smirnoff must’ve already hit your brain, actually, because all of a sudden you’re feeling agitated and confrontational.

You don’t want to spend all night worrying about when he’s going to find you and drop the bomb. So what if he doesn’t like you! So what if he probably wants to forget the moment that happened out on that balcony never occurred at all? You lived your life without yearning over Jeno for years before you moved back here, so it won’t even be that hard to go cold-turkey when he says what he needs to and inevitably squashes the remainder of your heart in his fist. It’s fine. You’ll live.

You just need to rip it off like a bandaid first. And to do that?

“Hey, Woo, I think I need to go and look for somebody. You’re still down for that dance battle later?”

“I don’t play around with my challenges,” he says, grinning much too wide, “I’ll find you later, and then it’s on. Knock em’ dead, new girl.”

As bold as you suddenly are, you actually don’t want to go and interrupt whatever Donghyuck has going on just to ask him where Jeno is. So you’re on your own for a little, scanning the walls for him and the stupid clavicles poking out of his button-up, hair all windswept and eyes so dark. It’s nearly a minute of searching before you see something familiar— but it’s not exactly what you’re looking for.

Close enough, though. 

It seems like Na Jaemin has actually spotted you first, since he’s already heading towards you when you spot his head of pink darting through the crowd. You don’t fuss when he musses your hair and gasps over the competition, applauding you in that sickeningly earnest way he always has, since you’re used to his preening and compliments. Not to say you’re not appreciative. It always makes your face hot when he coos over you like this. But you’ve got a mission in mind, and fretting at him over the pouting and cheek-squeezing will get you nowhere.

“Yes, thank you, I did hear you cheering over everyone else at the end, no I wasn’t hiding my swag from you on purpose, thank you, you can stop pretending to cry now. Where is Jeno?”

The idea of you looking for Lee Jeno on purpose must startle him, because there’s a second after his clear offense at you brushing him off where he registers what you’re asking for and actually looks a little concerned. “Jeno? No-Jam? Why? Did he say something to you?”

“What? No, I just need to talk to him about something. Thought he’d be hanging around you.”

Imperceptibly, Jaemin lightens. 

“Oh. He’s downstairs hefting handles out of Somi’s car, because blondie forgot half the drinks in her trunk. He got volunteered by Chenle as Mr. Muscles and left with her like five minutes ago, so he should be back any minute.”

Damn it. Forlornly, you glance at the door, but there's nothing. No movement. Nada. There goes all your building bravado.

“But before he returns, young lady, should we talk about how that red tinge to your lips better be from the non-alcoholic jello-shots?”

Ah. Whoops. Not only no movement, but now you’ve gotten yourself trapped in the sights of Na Jaemin, who likes to pretend to be staunch on things like laws and teenage innocence and waiting to do things until the government says you’re allowed to. You constantly forget that you’re not yet the drinking age, because no college student handing out drinks at a party ever gives a fuck about the fact that you’re legally not quite legal yet. No other college student besides the one standing in front of you.

“You’ll stunt your growth if you drink before you’re supposed to!”

To this you glance at the cup he’s holding, clearly half full of something, and nearly go to laugh and ask him what his excuse is since he’s barely 21 himself, but then you think of something funnier. Without really thinking about it you snatch the cup from his hand and hork it down. Your eyes are locked with his the entire time so you get to see his surprise grow into shock, then expand into disbelief as you chug, and chug, and chug.

There’s a lot of… some peach flavored crap in here, burning like murder all the way down, to the point that you’re more bewildered than smug when the cup is finally drained because, “Fuck, Na, what is that shit? Are you trying to black out?” 

“Language!” he hisses, genuinely startled for the first time you’ve seen in a long time, which makes you laugh, “And of course not because that wasn’t mine, you little brat! I was holding that for Somi!"

“Oh,” you reply, only mildly shifted by this news. Sorry, Som. Now you know it must be peach Schnapps. She loves Schnapps. “What, so you’re not drinking tonight at all? Are you DD?”

“No! I’m not drinking, and I’m offended that you don’t already know I hate the taste of alcohol. Mark, who may I remind you is in this room and would’ve just shit himself if he’d seen what you just did, is playing designated driver tonight! He’s…”

And as he glances towards the kitchen you follow his gaze. You’re expecting to see your brother, most likely laughing over something his friends are saying, maybe even trying to dance-battle someone if he's having a particularly good time. Instead you see your brother chatting up Jeon Soyeon. 

Jeon… Soyeon. Nabi Bar, Jeon Soyeon. Who you haven’t spoken to or even seen since that awful night in Gangnam.

And you nearly gasp in terror at the sight.

Jaemin doesn't finish his sentence, and you dart your eyes to him when you realize this. He doesn’t look very pleased by what he’s seeing either, though you’re guessing for an entirely different reason than the one that’s just made you go cold.

“What?” you ask a little too quickly. The front door opens, which should be your cue to look for who’s just come in, but you can’t tear your eyes from the sight of Soyeon and Mark. What the fuck? What the fuck? “Do they know each other?” 

“Know each other?” Jaemin scoffs. “Hard to quantify.”

It would be very, very bad for you if they knew each other. Very bad. If not already clear, Mark still had no clue you weren’t where you said you were on the night of Nabi Bar. If she happened to mention your involvement in that shity, shitty idea, you had no doubt that Mark would go all holier-than-thou on you in front of all these people, and that you’d probably have to dive off of the balcony to escape the reaming.

He doesn’t look particularly comfortable, near pressed up against kitchen island because Soyeon is so close to him, hand rubbing at the back of his neck in that way you’re well aware means he’s getting flustered; but you see him laugh at something she says in the next second, and it doesn’t seem like his fake laugh. Mark’s fake laugh is terrible, and even from a distance you can spot it like the flashing lights on an ambulance, a beacon of distress just the same. So he’s laughing for real, at something… Soyeon is saying?

But you hardly recall her being very funny. 

“What does that mean, hard to quantify? Do they have history?”

“Something like that,” he murmurs. “Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about. Anyway, I think Jeno is—”

“You never look at anyone with any kind of attitude, and just now you rolled your eyes at her.”

“I didn’t roll my eyes. I blinked. For a long time. Something in my eye. Dusty in here.”

“Somi has this place deep cleaned twice a week.”

He stares at you like he’s begging you to drop it. You stare back, unwilling. “You know, Na, the longer you stall, the more time that all this illegal alcohol in my blood has to make me more bold and reckless and unruly. If I don’t get an answer from you I might just go over there and ask her myself. How do they know each other?”

You’re bluffing, of course— there’s no way you’re about to go over there just to see what they’re talking about when you could safely squeeze that information out of Jaemin instead. In reality, you were only pressing because you wanted to know if they were close enough for Soyeon to know you and Mark were related. If not? Then perfect! You’d forget it all and be on your merry way, reverting back to your original plan of finding Jeno, because there’d be no chance Soyeon could spill the beans. 

But if Soyeon does know? You might have to leave this party a little earlier than scheduled. 

“You want the whole, grown-up truth?” Jaemin finally relents.

“Might I remind you for the hundredth time that I’m only a year younger than you?”

“A year and a half,” he acquiesces with a sigh, “And Jeon Soyeon may or may not have slept with your brother to get him to do their midterm project last year.”

It comes out like he’s reading the headline from a newspaper and you made the mistake of swallowing right before he opens his mouth, choking violently on your own spit. He pats you on the back as you hack and cough before continuing.

“None of us are really sure about exactly what really happened because Mark kind of shut down after, wouldn’t tell us anything. But it was pretty clear he liked her before. She’s kinda his type, you know?” 

Edgy, pretty, and fucking evil, yeah, after having to chase a few of them away in high school you’re well aware of his type! This was not what you wanted to know about when you asked if they were close! What the hell?

“He told us they’d gone all the way right before she asked him to do their entire music production project because she was too busy caring for her sick little sister. He, being the bleeding heart he is, pretty much refused to listen to us about how convenient the timing was; he even got mad when Chenle did some sleuthing and found out that Soyeon’s parents facebook, which was filled to the brim of photos of their family, didn’t have any trace of another kid in their midst besides her. Wouldn’t believe us until after the project was turned in, when he tried to meet up with her for weeks and she ghosted him every time.”

He frowns. “At the end of it, he wasn’t… It wasn’t good. He was pretty crushed.”

Now you regret chugging his drink for fun. Even before it you’d been feeling further than chill, pleasant and buzzing from your shots, well prepared for whatever hell was to arise with Jeno. Now you felt loose; too loose, fingertips tingling at your sides because of this news, heart pounding in your chest, body so warm from the alcohol that you felt like Jaemin would hiss if he’d laid a finger on your skin.

To play games with you, that’s one thing. But Soyeon has laid her hands on your brother?

“And, knowing all of that,” you say slowly, clearly, “You’re still letting him sit there and talk to her?”

“I want to kick her away,” Jaemin says flatly. “I’d be lying if I said I trust that girl as far as I can throw her. But it’s not really up to us to get involved.”

“Who is us?”

“His friends? I mean he was pretty clear when it happened that he did not want to talk about it—”

You bark a laugh, but there’s no humor to it at all. “So he can pout and gripe about the sanctity of discussing your problems with people, the embarrassing, the horrifying, but when it comes to him he gets to keep secrets? Forget how hypocritical that is, you guys are listening?”

Jaemin, finally, seems to catch the heat in your words. “Uh. He told… I mean, before you get all up in arms, she may be over there apologizing for all we know. Maybe she’s repenting.”

You both stare at her as she tips her head back in laughter, the salacious flirty kind where you’re more focused on being attractive than actually enjoying the joke, before she puts her hand on his chest in a, ‘Wow, you’re so funny, take me now,’ kind of way, leaning in to say something to him that she clearly doesn’t want anyone else to hear. Every hair on your body stands up when Mark doesn’t push her away.

He’s not seriously buying her shit again, is he? 

“Jaemin, are you willing to bet your life on that?”

“What?”

“Everything you just said about Soyeon. You know that for fact?”

“Well, no, Mark didn’t actually tell us about it so I can never be sure, but… but with what we could gather, it was pretty cut and dry. Chenle actually also found out she had a boyfriend at the same time she did all that stuff with Mark. We just couldn’t bear to tell him that after the fact, so we never… Hey, where—”

You’re sober enough to make it through the throng of people without stumbling, but not sober enough to fully anticipate what you’re really about to do. The goal is just to separate them, somehow, to get that harlot away from your brother, and then you’ll go and deal with Jeno. If people greet you as you pass you don’t hear or see it; all you can grasp is her, touching him, laughing with him, cheating, lying, people-using—

“Mark,” you nearly hiss, “I need to talk to you. Now.”

Mark jumps a foot in the air when you grab him but Soyeon, for some reason, doesn’t look surprised to see you in the slightest. She does, however, raise a sharp blonde eyebrow at your tone.

“What,” Mark splutters, “Right now?”

“Yeah,” Soyeon sighs, continuing to trail her eyes up and down Mark’s face instead of looking at you, “The grown-ups are talking, sweetheart. Can’t you give us a second?”

Mark turns back to the sensual softness of her voice like a moth to a flame, and you want to smack him. “No. Not a second now, not a second later, not a second tomorrow or forever. Now, Mark.”

And that was where you made the mistake that turned this whole night sour. Only when Soyeon realizes it’s her you have a problem with, catching on from the agitation in your tone that you’re not just here to bother Mark for fun, does she slide her unreadable gaze to you. 

“You know I haven’t seen you in a while, Little Lee.”

“For the better,” you mutter. “Seriously—”

“I was so surprised when Yuqi told me you two were related.” 

She’s talking to Mark but looking at you, eyes squinted a little, like someone analyzing a germ under a microscope. So she does know. Great. “I couldn’t believe that this girl was the same little star you used to tell me about when I met her. She’s grown up a lot, you know? Doesn’t take after you at all, Markie.”

“Soyeon,” you say again, “Let him go.”

“Why? So you can keep throwing your tantrum? Every time you open your mouth it gets harder and harder to see the resemblance. When you’re so…”

She doesn’t need to say it, and it’s honestly probably better that she didn’t, because you would’ve leapt at her if she’d gone as far as she’d been intending to dig with that comment. You’re aware you don’t resemble Mark, physically or otherwise— in accomplishment, in talent, in patience, in perfect unmarred reputation. You’re well fucking aware. 

“Soyeon,” Mark finally says, thankfully lurching a little in your direction like her evil witch's spell is finally wearing off, “I don’t think there’s any need for that, what the hell is going on? Do you two know each other?”

Soyeon opens her eyes comically wide. “You don’t know?”

And you feel Mark stop. What the hell are you doing, you want to scream. Why are you even pausing for this bullshit? Come on! But he doesn’t. He stands there and he stares at her, as if searching her face for any sign of truth, and Soyeon takes this as her cue.

“Little star is a big girl now! Her own fake ID, clinging along with her baby bottle to any club the adults want to go to, even catching her own ride home with any wasted guy that smiles in her direction! Don’t you live together? What a handful she must be if she can sneak out under your nose, Markie.”

The blood rushing in your ears makes it hard to tell if it’s only you that’s losing your hearing or if the rest of the people hanging around in the kitchen really have quieted to watch the rising altercation, but you don’t dare move your eyes from the girl to check. The baby bottle comment, outing your fake ID, all of that is rage inducing on its own— but it’s a cold, stomach twisting madness that grabs you when you latch on to the last part of what she’s just said. Catching your own ride home?

Was she referring to Yoobin?

Your fingers unfurl from Mark’s jacket.

“What do you mean, catch my own ride?”

Soyeon laughs. Under normal circumstances, it would be a pretty sound. “Did you think we didn’t see you leave? Blowing up our phones like there was some big emergency— We sent that guy out there to keep you the company you wanted so much, God, we got tired of babysitting you. You stopped calling and neither of you came back inside. What, cause your brother is here you’re going to try and soften it up now, huh? Tell us all you didn’t go home with that drunkard, when you love to tell people you’re no stranger to a bar?”

Yoobin, who grabbed you, touched you, tried to drive you home in his wasted state with clear intentions on what he wanted in return.

Yoobin, who Soyeon and Yuqi and their friends had sent, knowing you were panicked, knowing he made you uncomfortable, knowing you were looking for them.

Soyeon who stopped hearing from you and laughed it off. Soyeon who stopped hearing from you for days and didn’t bat an eye, knowing what she’d left you alone with.

Soyeon, who’s straight, pretty nose cracks under your fist in the same way Yoobin’s did, except this time you don’t run away when she screams and collapses and you realize what you’ve done. Except this time you hit her again— or you try to at least, lunging for her with your eyes ablaze, unsure what you’ll do when you get there but 100% sure it’ll hurt worse than a bloody fucking nose— but don’t quite get there, because someone has lifted you off the ground, two iron-bar arms wrapped like vices around your ribs, the worlds tightest back hug.

In your right mind you might’ve placed the sandalwood and the bergamot, or recognized the rolled up sleeves of his oversized button up, ivory and forest green, but as it stood—

As it stood, as you shouted and thrashed and fought, you only made out one thing.

Mark Lee, your own brother, helping Jeon Soyeon to her feet, two hands firm on her arms to hold her up; his surprised voice the last thing you hear before Lee Jeno hauls you out of that house.

“Wow, Soyeon. Is that true?”

(”Rockstar is going to wallop that girl,” Donghyuck mutters, staring at you like they all are from behind the pillar separating the kitchen from the living room, alerted to the worsening confrontation by a sheepish Jaemin.

“No she won’t," Jaemin tries, clearly feeling guilty, "She knows better than that.”

“She’s gone still. And I’ve never, ever seen her eyes that wide before.”

“That’s control. It’s restraint. She’s not going to hit her.”

Renjun, then, “If you really believe that then why do you look so nervous?”

“Her fist is balled up,” Jisung comments quietly.

“It’s restraint!”

“You weren’t there the day that she knocked the socks off of Park Gyubin, right? When he tried lifting her friend’s skirt up in the cafeteria?”

“She…” Jaemin glances at Donghyuck, “She’s tried to fight men before?”

“Tried to? I thought she was going to kill him. Y/N hit him so hard he had to get his retainer refitted. She’s got a right hook like her brothers. I bruise when she hits me, you know.”

Renjun again, “Why do you sound so proud of that?”

“She… Well, no, look, look! She let go of Mark. They have to be deescalating, she—”

“Does deescalating usually involve getting closer to the object of your anger?” Jisung asks.

“She—”

“Here it comes,” Chenle announces excitedly.

And then Jeno is across the room.)

Jeno realizes before you do that you’re not going back home tonight.

His apartment looks the same. Obviously. It’s only been three weeks since you were last here. Like before, Jeno doesn’t bother with the lights, kicking his shoes off in the entryway the same way, except this time you have two shoes of your own to place next to them instead of the sad and lonely single. Three weeks ago, but it feels like it’s only been a day or two since you did this whole song and dance; following him to the bathroom, sitting on the counter as he stoops under to rummage through his first-aid bin, gritting your teeth when he rubs your knuckles with the antiseptic, smiling weakly when he apologizes for the sting.

You’d cried in his car.

When Jeno carried you out of Somi’s apartment you thought the stinging in your eyes was just discombobulated rage. But when he set you down on your feet in the elevator and you began to come down from the adrenaline high, the burning just intensified as you understood what just happened. You’d only been able to keep the tears at bay until he told you to put your seatbelt on in his passenger seat and it all became too real. 

Though you’re not sober enough right now for it to feel like a problem yet, you know you’ll want to kill yourself tomorrow for allowing yourself to devolve in front of him like that no matter the circumstance. In the moment, you weren’t even entirely sure what you were crying about. Was it the craze of fury wearing off after punching Soyeon, and the jitters it left behind? Or the fact that even when Jeno was tugging you towards the elevator up there, you’d stood and waited for Mark to follow for nearly an entire minute, just for him to never come out? 

You’d like to chalk it up to adrenaline and inebriation, but deep down you knew exactly what it was that had your eyes brimming with those tears. 

He’d chosen Soyeon. The girl who’d lied to him, cheated with him, fucked him over for a grade and left you for dead on the streets of Gangnam, and he’d stayed in that house with her instead of coming out to check on you. And you weren’t really one to catastrophize, but how couldn’t that signal the definitive end of Mark putting up with your shit? The nail in the coffin of his patience with you?

You knew things had been rough lately with you moving in, the thread of butting heads over little things like curfews and the people you hung out with, but you hadn’t thought your relationship had deteriorated to the point that he’d ever… that he’d ever choose someone else. You’re his sister. No matter how mad he is, he’s supposed to choose you. 

But he didn't. And in Lee Jeno’s passenger seat, like a giant baby, you cried about it. 

In proper Y/N fashion the only thing that had chuffed you into sucking it all up and swallowing it into the depths of your soul never to be seen again, was Jeno’s building appearing on the horizon. The threat of him asking you if you’re alright and actually having to confront those feelings was terrifying enough to jar you out of your self pity.

But he hadn’t asked you about your red eyes. He hadn’t said anything, actually. He just tugged you out of the car and into the elevator. Herded you into his apartment. And tipped his head towards his bathroom just like before, except this time he was smiling. In the soft, polite kind of way that let you know he was well aware of what just transpired in his car, but was simply... letting it be.

(And you always knew Jeno was rather observant. But man, the thought behind that smile could’ve made you burst into tears all over again.)

On the counter, holding out your hand for the steps that would never come, you blinked back to the present when Jeno stopped at the healing salve. You’d been waiting for him to bust out the gauze again, already lamenting the next week of your life with the itchy fabric tight around your wrist, but all Jeno does is raise an eyebrow at you when you don’t hop off of the sink after he puts the kit away.

“What are you waiting for?” he asks.

You blink down at your hand, shiny with the balm, and then back up at him. “The rest of it.”

“The wrap? I didn’t think you needed it.”

“But that’s what you did last time I was here.”

“Because the last time you were here you didn’t know how to punch someone properly. It looked like you got her the right way this time. When I was tugging at that wrist in the elevator just now you hardly seemed to notice, when you could barely close your fist a few weeks ago.”

…Oh. Only as he mentions it do you roll your hand around in its socket, flexing your fingers under the bathroom light. Your knuckles look like shit, the newly forming bruises and angry skin, but it doesn’t actually ache like it did that night with Yoobin.

Well you’ll be damned. So straightening your wrist really does work.

“Oh,” you mumble. “I guess I don’t. Wasn’t really thinking about it.”

“Of course you weren’t. Probably thinking about what you wanted to eat, right?”

“What I— What?”

What you wanted to eat? When did you discuss that you were hungry?

“Heard your stomach grumbling in the car, so I’m assuming you haven’t eaten since before the competition. There’s a pizza place down the street that I think you’d like, a jajangmyeon shop too, but their delivery takes ages. It’s up to you.”

You stare at him, clearly not following. Jeno is relaying this to you like tonight was planned, as if it was always in the cards for you to be hanging out at his place tonight like a couple of pals, leaning against the door with his arms crossed, the perfect picture of normalcy. He thinks you’re going to be here long enough to eat? He’s not planning to have you shipped out of here in the next half hour?

But then you realize that there isn’t really another place for you to be shipped to. Mark’s apartment is… not really an option. The idea of going back there tonight almost makes your stomach roll, actually.

But if you don’t go back, that doesn’t leave much in the realm of locations to hide out at. Somi’s brother is coming home tonight, she’d squealed as much this morning, and considering how rare it is that he’s not busy in other countries you abhor the idea of intruding on their reunification. You don’t have many other friends here that you’re close enough with to just show up at their place at 10PM unannounced, not that you’d want to given that your little spat with Soyeon is probably all over everyones instagram stories right now, and is surely the only thing they’ll want to talk about.

You don’t have very many options right now. And Jeno probably knew that from the moment he decided to bring you here. 

“Thinking pretty hard over there,” Jeno hums, “for what is supposed to be a two choice question. Unless you don’t want either?”

“Pizza is… fine.”

“Just fine, or actually good? I can check to see if there’s any—”

“It’s good, Lee.”

He smiles like he’s got you in the bag, and then stands up straight. “I’ll order it then.”

You nod emptily and make moves to follow him out of the bathroom, right on his tail, which is why you nearly crash into him when he whirls back around to stop you. “Oh. Almost forgot.”

“What? Forgot what?"

But you only grow more confused when Jeno speeds off towards his room without replying. There’s a creak and a shuffle, doors opening and closing before Jeno returns with a bundle of fabric bunched up in his arms.

“Can’t imagine it’ll be very comfortable to hang out in that dress all night.” 

He holds out the mass; what appears to be a heather gray hoodie and black sweatpants that, even bunched up like this, still look miles too long for you. He sees you eyeing it and you fear he’s going to do something awful, like politely offer to go and get you something else as if he hasn’t already done a hundred other things for you tonight, so you quickly oblige. Once you relieve him of the pile he laughs, tells you he’s going to put the order in for the pizza, and closes the door on the way out.

You stand there unmoving for much too long, the heap of fabric clutched to your chest.

There’s so much to unpack. Being here again. The fact that he was supposed to break your heart today instead of doing all of... this. How casual he’s being about it all. The brother-slash-bestfriend shaped elephant in the room. The clothes.

But, for the sake of not collapsing under the weight of all of that turmoil, you decide to just focus on the latter; the most immediate and least heart wrenching of the bunch. His clothes. You’re going to wear his clothes. 

Yet another of your old dreams coming to fruition in this apartment. Lucky you.

Jeno is laying across the long part of the couch when you exit the bathroom, footsteps making no noise because you’re padding along on top of the ankle hems. He’s dressed differently too; gone is the jeans and the ivory button up, in its place a black long sleeve and navy blue sweatpants just like yours, except his actually fit. He’s texting furiously on his phone when you round the corner, eyebrows furrowed with something like irritation before he sees your looming figure in the corner of his eye and looks up.

"I put an X-Men movie into the DVD player," he announces, squinting back down to his screen, "Couldn't think of a better time than now to finally get into it, since you'll be here to explain all the things I don't understand..."

But he trails off as he stares at his phone, eyebrows furrowing at something before he frowns and stands up. The look is gone when you shuffle towards the couch and he looks up again, smiling at you like you like nothing is wrong, before he says, "I need to make a call though. Start the movie, yeah? I'll be back before things get interesting."

You stare at him. Probably shouldn't miss the opening scene if you really want to 'get into it', you nearly say. But you've been on this earth for long enough to recognize when someone wants a little privacy.

You want to ask if it's Mark. If he's the one Jeno had been messaging back so agitatedly just now. But the fear of it not being him, Jeno instead just trying to sort something out with like, a truant project partner or something, makes you stuff it down again. It'll just make you look even more pitiful.

"Sure. Most of the intro is fan service anyway."

He opens his mouth like he's about to say something else but then his phone starts to ring and he only smiles tightly at you instead. Then he's gone down the corridor, into his bedroom, and when the ringtone finally stops you can barely hear his voice much less make out what he's saying. Hm.

A different day and you might've snuck off after him to eavesdrop just to see for yourself. But after tonight?

You simply watch him go, and then tumble onto his couch with the exhaustion of someone who's just run up and down the building a dozen times.

You don't even have the strength to reach over for the TV remote; you just lay there and revel in the softness of the cushions, and at how tired you suddenly feel. Rehearsal all morning, giving it your all on stage, the energy-leeching atmosphere of a house party, the alcohol sagging through your veins. Not to mention the emotional confusion. Crying always takes it out of you.

So it's no wonder that you forgo turning the movie on to just take a moment to breathe in the pleasantly dark living room, closing your eyes for what you intended to be a brief second, just to gather the last bits of your patience and sanity for the night ahead... only to fall victim to what happens to most people when they say they're just resting their eyes.

You fall asleep. 

At least for a little while, you do. A brief, dreamless, blissful unconsciousness.

It’s so blissful in fact, that when you’re startled back to life by a knock at the front door a few minutes later— blinking the haze out of your eyes and seeing Jeno’s ceiling instead of your own, understanding with a sinking hopelessness that you’re not waking from a nightmare, that all of tonight has really happened— the dread is almost crushing when it all comes back.

But there isn't even any time to mourn. Because you realize that if someone's just knocked on the door, like the good homeowner he is, Jeno will be out here any second now to open it. He'll come out here and he'll see you and you'll be sucked right back into that nightmare, pretending like everything is fine when you both know that tonight was supposed to go so, so differently. Sitting next to each other and eating next to each other and attempting small talk for the sake of keeping things civil until you can escape this place in ten hours.

The idea almost gives you hives. You can't do it. You can't. There has to be another way. What if you make something up? A sore throat? A sudden headache?

But there's no time to think of anything fancy because in the next second Jeno's bedroom door clicks open down the hall, and panic flies up in your throat.

So you do the only think you can fathom. Before he can come around the corner and see you freaking out, you fling yourself back over and pretend to still be dead asleep.

As foolish as you immediately feel, it must work at least a little bit; you hear him come into the living room, hesitate, and then continue on past the couch on lighter steps as if worried about making too much noise. You even steady your breathing when he’s opening the door for the pizza guy— smooth inhale, smooth exhale, spaced just far enough to replicate what someone sounds like when they’ve been out for a while.

Shit. Will this actually work?

When he closes the door and the room falls to silence your heart picks up a little bit. What is he doing? Is he staring at you, trying to see if you’re faking?

Is he wondering if he should wake you up to eat? Oh, God! What if—

“Are you up?” he whispers. And you almost choke trying to swallow down the instinctual response that rises in your throat.

With surprisingly great effort, you do nothing. Say nothing. You don’t even stir. You just pray to whatever God is out there that Jeno will take the hint, eat his pizza at the kitchen island, leave you out here and go to bed. You get excited when you hear his steps again and think he’s going to pass the couch straight, but of course a second later you feel the couch dip somewhere off behind your back and you nearly curse.

“Guess not,” Jeno mumbles. "I forgot that you knock out so easily."

A few more seconds of what feels like an endless quiet, only his shuffling making sound; through your squeezed-shut eyes you see the light of the TV flicker like he’s just changed the channel, and with it you hear what must be the intro to a gameshow or something— excited chatter, ringing bells, audience cheers. But the volume is turned down so low that it feels like the show is playing in another room. Is he keeping the volume low because of you?

Is he… going to stay out here? 

“So you won’t mind if I think out loud,” he says suddenly, and your eyes nearly fly open in surprise. What? 

But he sounds serious. “Like a test run, almost. For what I wanted to talk about earlier at Aegon. Since I still don’t really know what the hell I’m going to say even after losing sleep over it all week, and I know you’ll try to stop me if you’re awake. I should just try it now, right?”

Try it... now?

Your fake deep-breathing almost hitches in panic when you realize what he’s getting at. Sweet God, please, no. What he wanted to talk about earlier? He wants to get into that now?

“Jaemin scolded me for springing it on you like that after your showcase, by the way. I didn’t realize that I might’ve cornered you until later and I’m sorry about that. I just really, really wanted to talk. Because I didn’t before, and everything got all…” he sighs, heavily. “I’m thankful that you told me to get lost earlier, because I think I can explain it better, like this. I can start from the beginning. I know how thorough you are about things like this.”

You hear the beep of a digital watch somewhere in his house as your face scrunches up in confusion. It's officially midnight, if the watch is making noise to denote the hour, but the realization of the time only comes second to the slow bewilderment slipping through your gloom.

From the beginning? The beginning of what? What the hell does any of that have to do with firmly rejecting you?

“Before we met, because of the way Mark talked about you, I had this idea in my head that you’d be some sort of perfect, flawless angel. That you’d be a little version of him; neat and proper and just a little bit naive, too nice for your own good. A rule follower.”

He laughs at this, a genuine laugh at the memory, and your frown deepens in embarrassment. “Then I actually laid my own eyes on you for the first time, and I realized I couldn’t have been more off.”

You remember it clearly, the first time you’d made a fool out of yourself in front of him and the rest of Mark’s friends. Fourteen years old, running inside the house after walking home from class with your own crew; you’d completely forgotten that you were supposed to bring your skateboard and a change of clothes to school because you all planned to ride around the park that day, the first warm afternoon after a mushy spring, and they said if you didn’t come back out in sixty seconds or less they’d leave you in the dust. So you stormed into the house, past the living room with all of them in it without even a glance or greeting since you hadn’t realized it wasn’t just your brother in there, hurled off your uniform in favor of your outfit staples at the time— an oversized tee that you stole from Mark, hand-me-down cargo shorts that also came from your brother’s closet, and your most cherished possessions: a Yankees baseball cap and your beat-up blue Nikes. 

But you couldn’t find your skateboard and the clock was running out, so you howled down the staircase, “If you moved my skateboard again from where I put it I’m going to kill you in your sleep!” only for Mark to shout back up, “It’s a tripping hazard! It’s in the hallway closet! And aren’t you grounded right now? Where are you even going? Does mom know?”

You hadn’t replied. Just snatched the board from where he said he’d stashed it, barreled back down the stairs, and was fully preparing to toss your brother some half-assed explanation, but then you’d seen him. Seen them. Mark’s new school friends, all lounging on your living room couch, staring at you as if you’d come into the room with a bomb. Lee Jeno (who’s name you’d only later find out) appeared the most stunned by your tornado-like appearance. 

You could only imagine what they were seeing. Some rowdy tomboy, technically on house arrest but running out to wreak havoc on the town regardless, threatening to kill people in their sleep for tidying up. Exaggerated, obviously, but you remember being mortified halfway to Sunday by how cute they all were and that this was their first introduction to you— and in that mortification, sprinting out of the house without telling your brother anything at all.

You’d gotten a good scolding for that later.

“And it’s going to sound kind of stupid,” Jeno continues, and if you didn’t know any better you’d think you heard the smile in his voice, “But because of that, I got this idea in my head that Mark must’ve only been seeing you through those rose-tinted glasses. The type every older brother has for every younger sister, the ones that make everything they do look cute and miraculous and perfect even if they’re clearly evil to everyone else. Not saying I thought you were secretly some sort of demon or anything either, ‘cause I know you’d roll your eyes at me right now if you could. Just that the girl I saw that day was nowhere near the delicate little thing he’d described. And I got... curious. I started wondering what you were actually like.”

Your face is getting hot again. You’ve never, ever heard him speak this much in one sitting, and the idea of him ever paying this much attention to you is mind boggling. But you don’t let yourself lean into whatever feeling of hope is whistling through your head. 

So what if he made a game out of trying to separate your real traits from the things Mark got wrong about you six years ago? Sometimes you liked to make up season-long dramas about strangers you saw on campus. It doesn’t mean anything now. 

You want to scrunch into a ball. You aren’t sure how much more of this monologue you can handle, even despite the consequences of rolling over and breaking the facade just to get him to stop. The heat in your face is spreading to your neck, your stomach, every inch of your skin, it’s making your stomach churn with discomfort. 

“But then the next year you came to our school,” Jeno says with finality, like this is supposed to be some important distinction. “And it stopped being as casual of an interest. The months went by and at some point I stopped looking for you just to see if you were doing something Mark didn’t know about, and started looking for you just because I wanted to know what you were doing. We’d come over for movie night and while Hyuck and Jae argued for hours about what they did and didn’t want to watch, I’d be wondering if I’d get to see you. You probably won’t remember this, but one of those nights I even ordered an extra curry bowl just so I’d have an excuse to knock on your door to tell you about it. And I thought that was a normal thing to do.” 

Jesus Christ. Do you remember? Of course you remember! You’d been reading at your desk with your headphones in, which meant Jeno had to come all the way into your room to get your attention— tapping the side of your earbud with two gentle fingers, laughing all crescent-eyed at you when you yelped in surprise. The sight of him in your room for the first time was like a grenade going off in your tweenaged mind; you’d had to calm down for nearly an entire minute before going downstairs to get your food.

“I thought it was just Mark rubbing off on me. He cared so much about you that I thought my sudden interest was simply overprotection by relation— that he was the reason why I couldn’t stop looking for you. ‘Cause in my mind it couldn't be anything else but brotherly. Mark was pretty clear about what he thought of the people that liked you so I knew it couldn’t be that; I wasn’t stupid enough to let myself be interested in you like that. Right?” 

He laughs again, but it doesn’t sound nearly as sweet this time. “I’m rambling, huh?”

Yes, you are. You are. 

“I’ll cut to the ending then,” he replies like he’s read your mind. “I realized I did in fact ‘like you like that’, at our graduation.”

And your eyes pop open. It’s completely involuntary, and if you’d been facing him you would have been screwed. But you’re still looking deep into the cushions of the black couch; wide eyes staring into a deep, dark, nothing.

“I hid behind that brotherly excuse for three years. My eyes followed you in the hallway because I wanted to make sure you were okay like Mark would’ve wanted me to. I offered to drive you home from school when he was busy because that’s what Mark would’ve asked me to do anyway. Everything I wanted to do I told myself I was doing because I was just a good friend. You know?” A beat passes before he hums to himself. “But I guess you don’t, actually. Because you liked me authentically, like you do with everything. The night of our graduation, the backyard barbecue your parents threw for us. You remember that, right?”

Duh. You’d bawled your eyes out on the front porch halfway through because only then did it fully sink in that they’d all be leaving you behind, these losers you swore you didn’t even like, before wiping your face and moodily rejoining the celebration.

“Jaemin and Donghyuck were having fun like it was their last day on earth. Even Mark didn’t seem too worried about the fact that we’d be leaving our whole lives behind in a few weeks when we drove off to SNU. I asked him if he was going to miss anything and he listed a dozen things, the friends of ours that were going to different colleges, his parents cooking, his backyard, his bedroom, his electric keyboard. And I remember feeling frozen when he didn’t mention you. In hindsight I know that it was probably because he’d still be coming back home every break, and you had a whole year of high school to finish so it wasn’t like you were going anywhere, but at the moment I felt like someone just yanked the blanket off of me. Three years of pretending and it only took one conversation for it to smash through all of that and hit me like a truck. If Mark isn’t worried about it, why the hell has the idea of leaving you here been haunting me for the last week and a half?”

Oh.

“It was then, I think. That I went, ‘Ah. So this hasn’t all been because of Mark, then,’ and everything I’d ever done under the guise of brotherly obligation popped into context all at once. And as if it wasn’t enough being in my own head, I was still in the middle of talking to Mark as I realized that not only did I like you more than I’d ever liked anyone— I was looking directly at the person who would surely strangle me to death if he ever found out that I liked you more than I’d ever liked anyone. So I pretended it never happened. I said ‘yeah, me too,’ the party ended, I went home, the summer went on, and before I knew it I was on campus and had a million other things to worry about. I saw how well you seemed to be doing when Mark would show me your Instagram posts, how much fun you were having, and I let that make me feel better about being such a coward. Over time, without you around, I convinced myself that things were better like this. That it never would have worked out anyway.”

There’s a moment of silence so utterly long that for a moment you genuinely think that this is going to be it. That he’s going to have said all of that and just… sighed, gotten up, and gone to sleep, leaving you alone to be in misery over what you’ve just heard until morning.

But that’s not it. He’s got a few more words for you. The worst of them all. A string of syllables at first, ones that instantly shatter every bit of emotional resistance you’ve built for yourself these last few days— and then a sentence that has your blood turning to ice in your veins when you realize what it means.

“But then you came back to Seoul,” Jeno started simply, “And a lot of things I thought I knew for sure don’t feel quite as concrete anymore.”

You inhaled. 

You exhaled. 

And tried to understand what the fuck that last part was supposed to mean.

But then before you could he continued on, his voice soft, casual, innocent. Too innocent. “Like how I used to be sure that you snored when you were sleeping,” he murmured. “Has it been so long that I've forgotten? Or are you not actually asleep, Rockstar?”

[♥︎]: and there it is, folks! please leave a like if you enjoyed! it REALLY gives me the motivation to work on this faster!

[carmyberzattosjournal]

Words (Redux)

Summary: Carmy needs to find his damned words to ask his girlfriend to choke him.

Warnings: light bondage, swearing, Carmy x reader/generic lass (leave me alone), she/her pronouns, sub!Carmy, breathplay, light smut

Notes: This is NOT a journal entry. All journal entries are titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

THIS IS AN EDIT of a previous Carmy x Claire work, by request. You are free to make requests; just know that because I have limited time and other things going on, I might not be able to field them. You will be made aware of this, should you submit one.

Original here.

05 Oct 2024

You know what would be great? Words.

Fucking words. Just the ability to use them, ever, when he wants to, ever. Pissed off at someone? Fire some words at them to get them to leave him alone. Find Chef Asshole from Empire at the funeral dinner? Words. Fuck his life, that would’ve gone so much better if he had any fucking words when he needed them. His girlfriend riding him and him getting the urge to feel pressure on his throat? Words. He needs fucking words.

Pictures is how he thinks. Like the pinstripes of blinding white light from the streetlamp outside undulating with her form as she threw her head back and rolled her hips? It sears into his memory. Plants so deep in his head that he could draw it in his sleep. The way her tits bounce, her mouth curves into her amused grin when he pulls against the ties affixing his wrists to the headboard? Blackened as an imprint on his gray matter. But he can’t get words out to tell her that he needs her hands on his throat.

“What is it, baby?” she whispers. Trails her hands over his abs. “Oh, did those pesky words go away again?”

His face floods with warmth.

“Aw, you’re all flustered again,” she coos. She bounces faster, giggles at his string of swears.

He throws his head back and bares his throat, hoping she can do that little magic trick where she reads his mind. If she can read him, she isn’t telling him or giving in. He’s going to have to find those damned words.

He manages her name. That’s something.

“Yes, baby? I’m listening.”

All the while, she hasn’t slowed her movements. She even squeezes her cunt around his dick when he doesn’t answer, and he whines high in his throat. This pitiful, miserable sound that makes his face flush hot.

“Baby… baby girl, please…”

“Please, what, Bear? I’m not sure what that means.” She touches herself as she rides him, planting a hand on his abdomen for leverage and balance. “Fuck… Come on, honey. Use your words.”

From the tone of her voice, he knows she’s aware. She can read him like he’s made of glass, this woman, but she gets off on turning him into a mess. When she drags her wide-open hand up to his sternum, rests her thumb and her fingers on either side of his collarbone, tugs at his chain, she confirms it; she knows exactly what he wants, but she’s going to make him say it.

“You-you know. Baby, please, I’m close…”

“Easy…” She pets his face to soothe him, traces her thumb over his parted lips. “Can you try to say what you want? Be a good boy and try for me?”

He tugs against the ties. His head lands back on the pillow. His eyes squeeze shut as he tries to get his mouth to form the words he needs. She leans down, nibbles his lower lip, traces her thumb over his Adam’s apple.

“It’s okay,” she whispers. “It’s just me, baby. It’s safe.”

Her voice is strained. She’s as much as mess as he is.

“Ch-choke me?” He mouths it more than he whispers it. “Please? Please, baby?”

She blankets her hand over his throat and presses her fingers into his pulses, causing blood to pool in his head.

“Like this?”

“Yesss…” he hisses.

His eyes roll back, and his mouth drops open in a silent moan as she continues to rut against him. She can’t help but delve her tongue into his mouth at the opportunity, and he responds by bucking in time with her movements. She jolts and swears when her orgasm hits her, is forced to slow down to ride it out, which causes Carmy to whimper something pathetic. It’s catastrophic, how mad he’s driven by her slowing down. He tugs harder against the ties on his wrists, begins unleashing a string of swears until he feels her pick up the pace again and feels the pressure on his throat triple, crushing the air right out of his larynx. He goes lightheaded. Can’t keep his eyes open.

His orgasm hits him like a bolt of lightning, setting his body ablaze with white hot pleasure. His abdomen burns hot from spasming, a line of blissful warmth crawls up his spine only to turn into merciful coolness behind his shoulder blades. His head swims like he’s on a turbulent airplane when she releases his throat and peppers the reddened marks on his neck with wet kisses. She hunts along his jaw, his chin, eventually lands on his mouth. Occupies him with that while she unties his wrists and lets his arms down slowly, rubbing the bundles of taut muscle spanning his neck and shoulders. He cages her in an embrace, pressing the full length of his forearms into her back.

“Th-thank you,” he croaks.

“I’m proud of you for telling me what you wanted, Carm,” she mumbles.

“We’ll have to do that again.”

She giggles. “Noted.”

[nonbinarycollector]

ID: art of susie and noelle from deltarune, with aged up designs. susie's hair is half shaved. she has a dragon-like mustache, beard, chest and arm hair. she wears a black tank top with three skulls, one white, two red. she wears spiked arm cuffs, jeans, a purple jacket tied around her waist, and black sneakers with a flame design. she smiles at noelle. they're holding hands. noelle has curly hair with strands of white, tied into a ponytail with a teal ribbon. she has a red bauble earring and a semicolon necklace. she wears a green cardigan with christmas lights, a white shirt, and baggy red pants, with bells at the end. she holds a candy cane patterned cane, with a tree charm. she smiles at susie. next to susie, text says: gardener! works in asgores shop. dabbles in baking & paints. BUTCH. loves twirling her mustache. wants a pet so bad. next to noelle, text says: romance/horror novelist. posts videos on game easter eggs & glitches. taking care of her hair. prematurely graying. end ID adult suselle redux

[exactlycleverpirate]

Rafayel Timeline Redux Repost (All in one post)

All the formatting got removed, but hopefully having it all in one post will be helpful for some people. I might fiddle with this later and see if I can fix the formatting.

Spoilers under the cut.

“The Princess with a god’s heart, the God of the Sea who saved her - the Lemurian who rescued her from a cage time and time again…

They will meet once more.”

?? Island of Songs (Myth) 

(I put this at the beginning because Amund says this is where everything started. It could also possibly take place near the end of Earth’s life or the beginning of Philos’ life.)

Amund: “If that island sparked the beginning of our demise, then everything should end there.”

MC is trapped on an island surrounded by gray skies and gray waves. She is waiting to be rescued by someone from the sea, because otherwise the waves will one day drown her. She is doing the same thing over and over.

“The sky gloomy, and the water a gray desert. Waves crash against the island in the center of the ocean. On the island, I am in a hut, surrounded by silence and solitude. I know that one day, the tides, boundless and cruel, will take me away. It’s…I’m waiting for someone from the sea to rescue me from this prison.”

Hidden in these sandy tides are ruins, its structures of various sizes. MC: “...Where are we?!” Rafayel: “The Island of Songs.” MC: “(It…sounds familiar.) Rafayel, I…I think I’ve been here before…” Something is calling out to me. Not waiting for Rafayel, I hurry and run into the ruins. Golden sands cover what was once an island. Fragmented walls and scattered roof tiles cover the ground. Withered branches reach to the sky. MC: “I feel like I know this place… I’ve walked these streets… I’ve seen these roof tiles… We’re in…” I run my hand along a wall, reaching a broken window. I can almost hear the gray waves lapping at the rocks. The loneliness and silence from my dream materialize, wrapping around me. MC: “This is the place I’ve dreamed about!” Rafayel: “Your Highness remembers.” MC: “In my dream, I was…” I was doing the same thing over and over… And next to me was… (see below)

Here is where the legend of the God of the Sea is born.

Rafayel: “Whence a Sea God’s legend arose.”

There are tablets of Lemurian prophecy and history buried on the island. MC knew they were there. (Did she write them or was she there when they were written?)

I start to dig. My intuition tells me an object of great importance is near. MC: “You said a Sea God’s legend originated from here… There…has to be…” I find a slab, cracked, in the ruins.

Rafayel: “The Tome of the Sea God? What does it contain?” Like golden leaves on the water, the symbols float and form words. Rafayel: “It’s Lemuria’s history and the Sea God’s prophecy.”

In exchange for her sincere devotion, Rafayel gives MC his heart. They make an eternal vow and bond, etched on their very souls.

Rafayel: “Is Your Highness not my master?” MC: “Master?” Rafayel: “Once Lemurians are bound to someone, we can never go against them.” MC: “Are you…referring to the time you were gifted to me? Taming requires plucking a Lemurian scale. I did nothing of the sort.” Rafayel: “Our bond has existed for years. Long before the sea dried up.”

MC: “...The heart belongs to the God of the Sea.”

MC: “Desiring the sincerest worship of mortals, thou must offer an irreplaceable object.” Rafayel: “The Sea God's heart, mine heart. Dost thou want it?”

MC: “You’re the god who gifted me this heart.”

MC: “We made a vow. You are the God of the Sea who has my sincerest devotion.”

It is my bond, my vow with Rafayel engraved deep within my soul.

MC: “Our vow is eternal.”

On the happiest day of his life, Rafayel kisses her and devotes the entire ocean to her. (Did they get engaged or married? Rafayel later calls her his beloved bride.)

“No gray waves, no lonesome islands. A desert of blue-I think if the desert is azure, it ought to look like the sea. In boundless blue, a young man, the God of the Sea, holds a girl’s hand. They walk to the horizon. The God of the Sea gestures for waves to bloom under the girl’s feet. Fish swim. White gulls circle overhead and sing as they land on her shoulder. To the God of the Sea, this is the happiest day of his life. And when he kisses her, he devotes the entire ocean to his beloved.”

Lemurians later believe that the heart was acquired through deception, and that the humans stole it, resulting the the God of the Sea’s death.

Amund: “I believe in Your Quintessence. Her method of acquiring the heart wasn’t forgotten, was it? If that island sparked the beginning of our demise, then everything should end there. The Lemurians cannot be deceived again!”

MC: “The Lemurian tales I’ve read said the God of the Sea died long ago… I’m sorry, you must refer to it as a “slumber.” How can there still be a God of the Sea?” Rafayel: “Does Your Highness know why he perished? His heart was stolen by humans.”

Thousands of Years ago, Lemuria disappears and becomes the stuff of myth and legend.

?? Abyssal Witch (Fragrant Dream) (I choose to interpret this as a memory, but it could also be an allusion to something that could happen in the future or just a dream. Whatever it is, Rafayel reacts to it like it is significant.)

Rafayel and MC were lovers (possibly during the Island of Songs sequence of events?). He would play his flute beneath her window and they frequently explored the sea together.

The last time she saw the sun before becoming the Abyssal Witch, she sat in a boat with her head on her lover Rafayel's shoulder.

She is cursed to be a Sea Witch in the Abyssal rift and loses all memory of being human and of Rafayel. She is accompanied by a red fish and a blue fish.

Rafayel finds her and begins a quest to gather the materials for a potion to turn human. This includes one of his precious scales, a bottle of his eternal blood, and a song in a conch.

Once the potion is complete, he uses the fragrance to turn her human and restore her memories.The potion she made has a bitter scent reminiscent of fermented aquatic plants. As he vanishes into sea foam, he returns her to the shore so she can live and be free.

(When she regains her memories, the voices that play are of current day Rafayel, from his card Your Fragrance. Possibly just because she is remembering this in a dream, rather than those being the actual memories she recovered at the time.)

(Rafayel makes a jibe in Nightly Stroll about waiting 800 years, so is this event and/or the Island of Songs possibly 800 years before the main story, circa 1248? My inclination is to say Island of Songs takes place before Lemuria disappears - and is in fact the impetus for it to disappear - thousands of years ago, but it takes him a long time to find her, potentially putting Fragrant Dream in 1248. But this is all speculation.)

2024 (...probably (Rafayel literally says probably about his age in his interview…)) Rafayel born March 6th (Promotional video, in game profile)

2026-2027 MC born. (This age comes from chapter 5.1. The letter she gets from Grandma says she was 7-8 when they started experimenting on her, and she was adopted by Grandma after the Chronorift Catastrophe in 2034.)

?? Child Rafayel likes escaping to explore the ocean. On one or more of these excursions, he sees a human floating lantern festival and puts out their lanterns. (Ocean At Night)

2034

Rafayel would be 10 at this time. (If his birth year is correct.)

Deepspace Tunnel appears

Chronorift Catastrophe

MC (age 7-8) now has Protocore Syndrome in her heart, is adopted by Granny, and has little memory before this event.

On December 31st, Lemurian ruins are discovered, after a tsunami southeast of Linkon city, when a rift opens up and reveals it.

Child Rafayel is given a Whale Call as a means of protection, in case something happens on one of his escapes from Lemuria. However, he never uses it, because he never escapes again after this, and sometime later he buries it in the Lemurian city. (Whalefall Lament)

Sometime before 2038, MC goes on a field trip to Hat Island (possibly when she meets Rafayel?).

?? Pinkie Promise as children. (MS Chapter 7.11) At some point in MC and Rafayel's childhood, Rafayel visits the surface world but gets trapped on the beach on his return trip (on Ebb Day?) (Perhaps during her field trip to Hat Island?) (A summer day by the seaside involving seashells? (Anecdote 2)) She saves him and they make a pinkie promise. Rafayel says if she doesn't return, he will chase her to the ends of the earth. (Nightly Stroll) (Could be in this life or a previous one.)

Rafayel: “It’s settled, then. If you don’t return, I’ll…I’ll chase you to the ends of the Earth.”

?? Lemurians Slaughtered. Some survivors go into hiding living on land among humans, including his Aunt Talia and K. (Anecdote 3) (See What Happened to Lemuria and Rafayel for a detailed breakdown of this. Could be in this life or a previous one.)

Rafayel's Anecdote 3 immediately precedes Anecdote 2 (See 2044-2047). 

Rafayel is an Opera singer in Verona going by the moniker “Mo”, hunting down and killing people, possibly as revenge for the destruction of Lemuria and slaughter of his people. 

He is being investigated by a private detective named Louis. 

He is not painting at this time. 

Rafayel's only living family on Earth is his Aunt Talia, also Lemurian. His Aunt Talia is also in Verona. Talia thinks Rafayel of the past was like a blazing flame. But ever since the incident in Lemuria, he is like a battered reef - cold and hard outside, but inwardly riddled with cracks, vulnerable, and on the verge of crumbling. She remembers he used to like painting. 

He also recently attended a Seamoon Ceremony for another Lemurian, K, who dies and is returned to the sea (after having his scales and blood taken). Lemurians are hiding amongst humanity, but being hunted, tortured, harvested for their scales and blood and killed. It is suggested that Rafayel is trying to accomplish something to save the Lemurians, saying, “Not every Lemurian survivor can wait.” It appears the longer he takes to accomplish his goal, the more of the Lemurians die in the meanwhile. 

Rafayel leaves Verona and moves to Linkon city. He has a picture of MC in his pocket, likely given to him by Louis, who gave Rafayel a new lead. Rafayel burns papers in a file before he disembarks the ship. He has a business card with relevant information. (Anecdote 3).

Sometime between 2043-2045 MC (17-18) begins attending University of Linkon. (School year usually begins in September.)

2043-2047 Rafayel's Anecdote 2 takes place sometime in this timeframe while MC is at University of Lincoln. 

Rafayel comes onto the scene in Linkon city with the release of his masterpiece Illusion (in the summer). His popularity as an artist skyrockets. He is staying in a hotel at this time and doesn't have his studio yet. 

In late summer, Rafayel receives an email informing him that MC is attending University of Linkon. He takes a position as a special lecturer there. He is then invited to remain as a visiting professor for a year.

He meets with someone at The Nest who provides him with more information about MC. Rafayel learns that people are watching MC, some for years, and are about to set something into motion. The man says Rafayel is getting into the game late, but Rafayel knows he's been in it since the beginning. The man doesn't have more information about who else is after her. The man gives Rafayel a distant photo of MC. Rafayel takes the photo, then burns the file and other pictures, telling the person that if he does anything unnecessary he'll never be able to work with anyone else again. 

Rafayel believes she is being surrounded by dangerous entities, some of whom may possibly be trying to use her to trap him. He describes her as bait. This is part of why he doesn’t approach her at this time. He decides he can afford to take his time and make his moves carefully.

Thinking about her brings him deep pain. He describes his feelings for MC as akin to a spice, painful and addictive and indicates he is prepared to be with her for the rest of his life, but also wants to “settle the score, bit by bit, slowly and steadily”.

He sees a picture of her on campus and learns where her major usually has classes. He recognizes her pictures right away, despite it being many years since he last saw her. He notes that she is older now, but still has the same mirth in her eyes. Rafayel acknowledges that “he has taken the bait she used once before”.

He sees MC again, talking to some of her classmates. He is confused that she doesn’t seem to know anything about Lemuria. (Anecdote 2)

Rafayel hires Thomas to be his agent. (Anecdote 1)

Thomas learns about business management to be a better agent for Rafayel. (Anecdote 1)

2047-2048 MC graduates. (School year usually ends June-July)

2048 Pregame

The month before the main story, Rafayel's art broke the record for the highest selling art at Lizio Auctions. 

At the start of the year, (per Main Story chpt 2.6) Rafayel returns to the country from overseas. He is known for spending six months painting in his studio, then traveling the world for inspiration/materials for the other 6 months.

2048 Main Story begins. MC (age 21-22) begins work as a Deepspace Hunter. MC and Rafayel are reunited, though MC does not remember Rafayel. Rafayel’s home is called Mo Art Studio.

Rafayel acquires a red Flamula from Lemuria the first time he reintroduces himself to MC. She gives it to him to take home. She later names it Reddie.

Philos - 30,000 years after the seas dried up. Rafayel's Myth takes place on Philos, likely sometime between Xavier and MC meeting for the first time (Xavier’s Anecdote 3) and Xavier's myth story. The oceans have been missing for 30,000 years (possibly because Earth was destroyed and Philos was made with a fake core holding separate tectonic plates together). 

“...we had substituted Earth’s extinguished core with a powerful, artificial one. This core holds fragmented landmass together, preventing them from scattering into the starry sea. So aside from more dust, more cloudy days, and cumbersome travel between tectonic plates, our planet isn't much different from the Earth of years past.” (Xavier’s Anecdote 3)

“People like Xavier, they'll experience many centuries. As long as Philos’s core still has energy, their lives shall last forevermore like the planet's.” (Xavier’s Anecdote 3)

MC was born from the depths of the planet. She has a special heart that makes the people of Philos immortal and is guarded in a palace, treated as a princess, and not allowed to leave. (See Xavier’s Myth for the connection between MC’s heart, the people’s immortality, and Philos's core.)

“Many, many years have passed on the humble planet of Philos. And on this land lives a noble princess. Her heart, pure and flawless, is blessed by the gods. It protects Philos forevermore, granting immortality to its denizens.”

“I am not a daughter of the Philos royal family. I am no one’s child. I am a person who awoke from the depths of the planet.”

“In the center of Starfall Forest, which had an unstable Protofield, was the heart of Philos. But it was hollow. Philos was made by mortal hands. It shouldn't have existed, and the core's energy had long been exhausted. The only way to keep the planet from dying was to fill its heart with energy. Philos was a planet where almost everyone lived eternal. Thus, humans were the most abundant resource that yielded much energy. Almost everyone who set foot here became the planet's food. Wanderers were a side effect born from the abnormal phenomenon.” (Xavier’s Myth chapter 8)

Xavier: “They found the perfect sacrifice. She can die and be reborn without end. In their eyes, she was the planet's very life force. For only she has achieved true immortality… The royal family believed if they sent her into the planet's heart when the time is right, their problems would be solved. No one asked how she felt or whether she was willing to sacrifice herself. They also care little about her being left in a hole to die and be reborn again and again.” (Xavier’s Myth chapter 8)

Child MC is gifted a young Rafayel as a Lemurian slave. She sets him free. (Rafayel later tells her he allowed himself to be caught on purpose to meet her.) When she set him free when they were children, he made a vow to return to her one day, giving her one of his scales which she has as a little blue fish in a tank, but she doesn't know it is the scale he gifted her. (Later, when they are adults, MC learns Rafayel was bound to MC when the oceans still existed.)

Rafayel: “I’ll return one day and find you.” He takes my hand. To my surprise, a little blue fish swims between our palms. Rafayel: “Fish are emissaries of the God of the Sea. This is my vow to you.”

Rafayel: “Is Your Highness not my master?” MC: “Master?” Rafayel: “Once Lemurians are bound to someone, we can never go against them.” MC: “Are you…referring to the time you were gifted to me? Taming requires plucking a Lemurian scale. I did nothing of the sort.” Rafayel: “Our bond has existed for years. Long before the sea dried up.”

“Deep within the palace, the little blue fish slowly turns into a silver scale and sinks to the bottom of the glass bowl.”

MC remembers living on the Island of Songs in a hut by herself, surrounded by the ocean. (See the beginning of this timeline.) (Was this in her first life or some subsequent life on Earth?)

Rafayel and MC are reunited as adults on her 99th attempt to escape the palace. They meet several times and grow close.

There are other Lemurians on Philos with Rafayel,  including Amund. They are killing human nobles, with the belief that by doing so, it will help restore the oceans and Lemuria.

Rafayel is referred to as the God of the Sea in the myth (Amund says he has served other Gods of the Sea over the past several centuries. Is this different incarnations of Rafayel, or other people entirely?)

MC: “Why do Lemurians need to kill humans? Revenge?” Rafayel: “Your Highness and I know revenge is meaningless. The seas are but sands for 30,000 years. We only want one thing.” MC: “The Lemurians want to go home?” Rafayel: “...Yes. We must awaken the seas and return to our homeland.”

MC can use a Lemurian Fishtail Beacon to summon Rafayel.

Rafayel and Amund are plotting to recover “the God of the Sea’s (Rafayel’s) heart from MC by cutting it out with a dagger on the Island of Songs. However, the heart must be given willingly. Rafayel is uncertain whether the legends are true about killing MC to restore the oceans and Lemuria. Per the legend, the goal seems to be attaining Absolute Power. 

According to the legend, “Lemurians who seeketh Absolute Power: Combat the treacherous tides. Dive into The Deep for pearls. Find a true love. When blessed with a true love’s kiss, claim her heart by your own hand. A heart, pure, flawless-and filled with love. It is the best offering humans can give to Lemurians. -Lemurian Ruins, Slate No. 0065, Lemuria: Tome of the Sea God”. 

(Amund has served multiple Gods of the Sea over the centuries. Are these all reincarnations of Rafayel or are there multiple Gods of the Sea?)

6 months after Rafayel and MC celebrate her birthday, he and Amund take her to the Island of Songs (now no longer an island), which she recognizes. She remembers her past life with Rafayel and realizes that Rafayel will fall into eternal slumber and the seas will never be restored if she does not return his heart. She offers to cut it out, but Rafayel refuses, saying he and the Lemurians will have to find their own way to change the story. He attempts to erase her memories and sever their bond to save her. Rafayel calls her his beloved bride.

Rafayel's flames are black because his power is dying.

“The black flames don’t flicker. They burn silently like the man who lit them. No energy, no warmth, and no hope in sight.” (This is similar to how Rafayel describes being trapped on the beach to MC in Nightly Stroll: “No way out, no hope, and waiting to die.”)

Rafayel: “The…seas will dry up.” MC: “Anything else?” Rafayel: “When the God of the Sea is revived, the seas will awaken. To take back what he’s lost, the God of the Sea must kill his beloved.”

Rafayel: “A god must protect his followers. If the legend pertaining to the God of the Sea is inevitable…”

Rafayel: “Shouldn’t the God of the Sea himself change the story?”

Rafayel: “If the ending is fixed, let us start anew and be rid of this tale.”

Rafayel: “Lemurians must rewrite their own story, with their own hands.”

Rafayel: “Goodbye, my beloved bride.”

MC is returned to the palace with no memories of Rafayel, but she watches the blue fish he gave her when they were young and slowly begins to remember. Hearing that the Lemurians are on the verge of being captured, and remembering that Rafayel intends to leave, she runs out of the city to find him, her memories and their bond once more intact. Rafayel and Amund are outside the city preparing to leave. Rafayel believes there is a way to restore the Lemurians’ home, even if he falls into eternal slumber.

MC: “Miss Natasha, who gifted me this fish?” Natasha: “Your Highness’s most important person.”

Amund: “What is Your Quintessence waiting for? I’ve served as a Lemurian Elder for centuries. Your Quintessence is the first God of the Sea who dared rewrite the Tome of the Sea God. Refusing to take her heart, Your Quintessence’s life must burn away. Your-” Rafayel: “What matters is our opportunity to return home. Having a God of the Sea makes no difference.”

Unsure how to resolve things, they set out on a camel across the desert to find Whalefall City. Amund is with them. Rafayel suggests that somehow by going to Whalefall City, he’ll be able to show her the sea. (Based on the Tender Moment, Whalefall Lament, it seems likely that Whalefall City is the name of the Lemurian city under the sea that Rafayel grew up in as a child on Earth.) The blue fish in the palace turns into a scale, presumably the one he gifted her to form their bond.

“Deep within the palace, the little blue fish slowly turns into a silver scale and sinks to the bottom of the glass bowl.”

“Philos’s seas have dried up for 30,000 years. The prophecy of gold has faded. Maybe there will never again be churning rivers or boundless seas. The Princess with a god’s heart, the God of the Sea who saved her-the Lemurian who rescued her from a cage time and time again… They will meet once more. -Legends From Deepspace: Sea of Golden Sands Chapter 1”

Rafayel: “Didn’t you want to visit the sea? We’ll head to Whalefall City.”

Thoughts, comments, theories, corrections? Please share!

[daman19942]

LBB Yakumtsaki Celebrations Suit Redux

First upload of 2024! I needed some wedding-appropriate attire for my LBB gentlemen, so I whipped up a conversion of @yakumtsaki Celebrations Suit Redux. Comes in their original 3 colors + @dreadpirate's light gray and red because I couldn't resist. Enabled for YAM and EM, only available as formal. No morphs on this one. Compressorized and clearly labeled!

Note: There might be some very minor clipping around the neck that I couldn't (see: wouldn't) completely fix. It doesn't bother me, but let me know if it causes any issues!

Download: SFS

Credits: Yakumtsaki, DreadPirate, Syn (Bodyshape), Lifa (WSOs)

P.S. I know I should've uploaded this for the GoS Fashion is for Everyone theme, but I've got something big planned for that. Stay tuned.

[therealgchu]

To the Shore Chapter 2 Constellation Redux

i have 1.1 version of Chapter 2 Constellation up. the prologue wasn't radically changed very much; going forward the rest of the chapters will be very different. structurally, they'll remain the same; however, it'll just have a lot more detail, backstory, and character info.

version 1.1 is here on ao3.

some new stuff

Hwa was correct in her initial assessment of the blond woman, Sarah Morgan, in her meeting at the Lodge. The older woman was the head of Constellation, ostensibly an explorers organization. The artifact that Barrett had commissioned Argos to dig up was the most recent acquisition for the group. Hwa listened attentively, but impassively as Sarah explained Constellation and its members. “You should take some time to get settled in,” Sarah suggested, offering a room in the Lodge to Hwa. Her eyes widened, shocked at the offer, it was so unexpected. It was the first time since she arrived that she allowed any emotion to appear, and Sarah paused, looking intently. Hwa quickly regained her composure, regretting the moment of weakness. “Some of our other members aren’t here, but you’ll meet them soon,” Sarah finished.

Hwa nodded noncommittally. She was highly suspicious of any organization that would open their doors and offer a room to a stranger without even doing a simple background check. She could be a thief, or a murderer, or a highly trained assassin on the run from a criminal syndicate, after all. The naivete of this organization made her uneasy and, while her expression remained neutral, she had serious reservations as to what she was getting herself into.

She was thinking about their offer as she watched the mercs take out the last Spacer in the cafeteria of the shipyard. Well, ruminations on jejune organizations could wait, time to work. She snuck out past the cover of the table, signaled to Sarah that there were two unfriendlies past the stairwell, and started moving silently from cover to cover, flowing like gray smoke. Two quick pops and the mercs were down. She motioned to Sarah to move forward onto the stairwell.

Sarah tried to take cover, but as a much taller woman, didn’t succeed very well. She was also as loud as the dock workers trying to land a giant chasmbass. Hwa tried to shut her out as she crept, taking careful aim. Two more spacers never knew what hit them. Sarah popped up and started blasting, taking out two more, clearing the way. Hwa stood up and looked appraisingly at the older woman. She was impressed that such a posh woman could be so effective. And, that mouth! She knew some warehouse workers at the Syndicate who would have blushed at that accomplished level of swearing. That lady was surprising. Hwa would have to re-evaluate her opinion of her.

[getjackdhu]

The Mods I Use

General Recommanded Mods:

Human Lifespan For All Supernaturals (I use the one where vampires still have their ‘normal’ lifespan

Tiny Textures Replacement (Removes all annoying ZZZ, VVV, 101s, the woohoo hearts, etc)

Annoyances disabler Break Into House Mod Have Sim Arrested Mod Alverdine’s Umbrella & Parasol Replacements Alverdine’s Towel & Umbrella Replacements Alverdine’s Taxi Defaults, which you see would fit the world Mummy, Plantsim, Mermaid power mods No Changing Into Martial Arts, nor Career outfits

For Future Era

ITF Taxi Default

CAS, Map View, Build Buy Music Replacements:

Apocalyptic Music Lo-Fi Music

For Present/Near Future Era:

UI & CAS Replacements:

Gray UI Golden UI Black UI

Cozier, Warmer CAS Replacement 2 Downtown Vibe CAS Replacements 9 CAS Replacements

CAS, Map View, Build Buy Music Replacements:

Plumbob Del Mar Fashion Music Lo-Fi Music

For 1900s Era:

Vehicles:

Black Cab Yellow Cab Police Cruiser

1950s TV Channels Defaults

CAS, Map View, Build Buy Music Replacements:

Plumbob Del Mar Potato Ballad's Soundtrack Redux (Part 1 & Part 2)

UI & CAS Replacements:

Gray UI Golden UI Black UI Gothic CAS Room 8 CAS Replacements

For medieval/historical and 1800s era legacies:

TSM Music Replacement Medieval UI replacement Medieval CAS Room Gothic CAS Room mspoodle’s Medieval Defaults 1-4 Footstool Replacement Medieval Baby Blanket Replacements Nraas Traffic to disable routing by car Ladyatir’s Water Taxi Replacement More/Less Opportunities, No Answer Phone, Auto Smartphone Functional Fireplaces With Cauldron Ani’s Mods (hunting, woodcutter’s tree, whittling, deck of cards, bucket of water, dig for treasure, also since you’re here get Ani’s Job Board as well)

- Not placing any electronics (no burglar alarms either!!) until the 1900s

Besides these mods and default replacements, I also use almost all fixes from the Performance & Bug Fix Guide, as well as most of the Enhanced Vanilla Gameplay, and Enhanced Vanilla Graphics, all three provided by Anime_Boom.

[audioaujom]

Demetrius v. Robin Redux

Stardew Hub, < prev, next >

Hello and welcome back! This is not a sequel to the first Demetrius v. Robin/Sebastian abuse oneshot, but it is similar write with a little more intense violence and some much needed Maru and Sebastian angst/bonding time. Read with caution and enjoy!

Word Count: 2124

Chapter TWs: Abusive language/Behavior, Attempted Drowning

--

Sitting alone against a tree by the lake, Sebastian watched his exhale of smoke float up and fade into the slowly dimming evening sky. It was peaceful as he closed his eyes and relaxed, the calm spell not breaking even as quiet footsteps crunched towards his spot from the path behind him.

The footsteps stopped beside where he sat, Sebastian lazing his head to one side and opening his eyes to meet the gaze of his awkward half-sister, who smiled nervously before asking, “Hey… do you mind if I join you?” 

“Nope, as long as you don't mind the smoke.” Sebastian shrugged, scooting a little to one side to make some room against the thick trunk he was leaned up against.

“Truthfully, I prefer the smell of smoke to the smell of antiseptic from the clinic.” Maru admitted with a small laugh, taking the opening beside him and settling in to watch the sun slowly sink towards the horizon. The two settled into the mostly comfortable silence for several minutes, before Maru let out a slow, heavy sigh. “I, uh, I just wanted to say I'm really sorry about my dad.”

Sebastian didn’t turn to look at her, though she could still see the way his eyes widened a fraction in surprise. “You don't need to speak for him.” 

“I'm not trying to. I just don’t want his stupid favoritism to put some kind of wedge between us.” Maru was trying hard to keep looking at Sebastian as she spoke, burning holes into the side of his head as he stared out at the water instead of looking at her back. She cleared her throat, her tone unwaveringly apologetic. “Or, well, I want to get rid of the wedge.”

“Not sure why. My company’s not exactly in high demand.” There was an unspoken tension in Sebastian’s shoulders as he shrugged in a manner he hoped looked dismissive, but Maru softened a little as she noticed.

“I understand if you don't want to be my friend or even my sibling, but it would be nice if we talked a little more.” The offer wasn’t pushy, Sebastian taking a long drag from his cigarette as she quietly continued, “Is that really so much to ask?”

“...I suppose not.” Sebastian took a long moment to answer, but he wasn’t actually thinking through whether or not to agree. Warmth blossomed in his chest from her words, the moment he took used to try and keep any of it from spreading across his face where she could see. “It wouldn’t hurt to get to know each other a little better.”

“That's good. I'd like to make some memories that are a little more recent than that time you carried me to Harvey’s after my brush-bot exploded.” Maru laughed, relaxing back against the tree next to him and lightly punching his arm. “And a little more pleasant.”

“Getting you down the mountain in a timely manner was harder than I expected.” Sebastian defended, chuckling a little himself at the memory of her covered in ash from the mishap. “I'm just glad none of that scarred.”

“Me too.” They lapsed back into a comfortable silence, watching the sky slowly fade from a pastel blue to a golden orange, the gray smoke a contrast to the vibrancy of spring around them. Maru waited until the orange had started to turn red for her to turn to Sebastian again, biting at her bottom lip nervously before blurting out, “And for the record, I don't like my dad all that much, anyway.”

“Not words I'd expect to hear from such a golden child.” Sebastian’s words were sharp, but the crooked grin he shot her way betrayed his real feelings.

“It's not like I asked him to do that.” Maru rolled her eyes, before glancing back over her shoulder as they both heard footsteps coming up the path towards them. She paused as Sebastian looked over at her worriedly, noticing her grimace. “Oh, speak of the devil.”

Both siblings fell quiet as Demetrius approached, Sebastian making a point to ignore him and take another long drag from his cigarette.

“What are you two up to?” Demetrius asked, though Maru twitched in annoyance as he only seemed to be addressing her.

“Just talking.” She said flatly, turning away from him and not offering any more information.

“That's not illegal, is it?” Sebastian asked tersely, continuing to stare at the lake.

“I was just asking a question.” Demetrius countered defensively, crossing his arms to glare disapprovingly at Sebastian. “No need for that kind of attitude.”

“We were in the middle of something, Dad, if you don't mind.” Maru tried, gesturing for Demetrius to leave with an expectant look.

“Well I do mind, if he's going to keep smoking like that.” Not budging, Demetrius continued to glare past Maru at her half-brother. “I don’t know what I'll do if you pick up such a nasty habit.”

Sebastian glanced over at Demetrius with just his eyes, sneering, “Can I do anything right in your eyes?”

“Apparently not.” Demetrius shrugged, ignoring Sebastian’s tone. “All you are is a bad influence.”

“Dad, c’mon. Just leave us alone.” Maru could feel the tension rising, standing to her feet and trying to intervene before things escalated.

“Not unless he puts that cigarette out right this instant.”

“I'm outside, and away from the house.” Sebastian complained angrily, intentionally taking a puff and blowing the smoke in Demetrius’ general direction. “What more could you want?”

“You to not do it in front of my daughter, for one.” Waving a hand in front of his face, Demetrius’ voice was getting louder by the word as Maru steeled herself and fully got in between the two.

“I'm an adult, Dad. I can make my own choices.” She interrupted angrily, but her dad wasn’t listening as he leaned over to gesture at where Sebastian was still casually seated against the tree.

“Not with him breathing cigarette smoke down the back of your neck.” He huffed, before fully stepping past Maru to bend down and snatch the cigarette from Sebastian’s hand and throw it into the lake.

“What is your problem?!” Sebastian jumped to his feet to get up in Demetrius’ face, Maru awkwardly pushed off to the side.

“You are!” Demetrius answered hotly, pointing a finger to jab it into Sebastian’s chest. “If I had things my way, you'd be freeloading off of one of your trash friends instead of us!”

“I'm getting Mom.” Maru declared loudly, turning and running back towards the house—neither of the men paying her any mind as they continued to argue.

Sebastian grabbed Demetrius’ outstretched hand, tugging it away from him and shoving him back. “You can say whatever you'd like about me, but you leave Sam and Abby out of this!” 

“They're enablers!” Demetrius stepped back up after stumbling from the shove, fuming. “I bet they say it's alright for you to talk back to me, too!”

“They'd rather I talk back than put up with your toxic shit!” 

“Fine! Have it your way!” Demetrius whirled on his heels to head back inside, but stopped in his tracks as he noticed Sebastian angrily sitting down and reaching to get himself a new cigarette from the pack beside him. He knelt down beside him, smacking the pack away from him with an oddly sinister grin. “Smoking two cigarettes in one night would be wasteful. Why don't I help you find the one I threw away?”

“What—? No!!” Sebastian started to scoff, but it cut off into a concerned shout as Demetrius grabbed the back of his head and pushed him towards the surface of the lake. “Hey, let go!”

Demetrius’ other hand pinned Sebastian’s nearest arm to the bank of the lake as he toppled him forward into the cold water, only able to gasp in a half-breath and flail his free hand wildly.

Sebastian couldn’t breathe.

He was entirely unprepared to be shoved into the water, his awkward attempt to get in a breath to hold before being pushed in earning him the harsh sting of water surging up his nose and filling up his mouth as his body panicked from the submersion. The water tasted like grass and rocks, a similar smell lingering in his mind even as his nose and throat burned from the forced intrusion, eyes bleary and rapidly blinking to clear his vision of swimming black spots to no avail. His free hand found no purchase on the bank or on Demetrius’ hand holding his fast under the way, bangs swirling wildly in the water from every jerking movement he made to try and break free and fucking breathe.

Water rushed in and out of ears in time with the audible blood pounding in his head, vision dimming with every passing second. He was frantic to get away, instinct taking over the last few rational thoughts as he felt his chest constricting from the lack of air and the water sloshing around inside his lungs that burned with the certainty that he could die if this went on any longer.

Suddenly several hands were grabbing at him, pulling him upwards and out of the water fast enough he barely registered the change as his lungs sputtered, unable to take in any air. He saw stars as his head landed on solid ground, feeling himself coughing hard and heaving to take in what little air he could manage around the water he was trying to eject.

Sebastian’s mind was fuzzy. Everything was blurry and dulled, hearing nothing more than a loud ringing and seeing only the darkening blue sky. He tried to tell himself that he was safe and out of the water, but he couldn’t shake the instinct that wanted him to believe he was still on the verge of death. It left him exhausted, taking a brief moment to close his eyes and rest before prying them back open as unconsciousness tried to pull him under.

“Sebastian? Can you hear me?” He heard Maru ask, her voice distant as she appeared in front of his slowly clearing vision, blinking as he realized the light blue above him had entirely turned to the muted twilight of night. The only answer he could muster was a sputtering cough, trying to keep his eyes from sliding closed again—not wanting to lose anymore time.

“Oh god… I can't believe this…” His mom was somewhere nearby, feeling himself being picked up off of the grass and carried as he let his eyes slip closed again.

“He’s breathing, so that’s a good sign…”

I’ll just rest for a minute…

The next time he opened his eyes it was because of yelling, not quite catching much of it except for Robin’s loud shriek of, “If you ever set foot in this house again, I'll kill you myself!” 

The yelling was loud and hurt his ears, so he tried to shift to get more comfortable and go back to the comforting warmth of sleep, only for his arms to barely twitch and his mind to slip from his grasp again.

Sebastian finally properly pulled himself out of the darkness what felt like an eternity later, forcing his eyes open and his breathing to even out. “Ow…” He mumbled, hearing two sets of footsteps rush over to the couch he belatedly realized he was laying on, Robin and Maru looking down at him with a mix of panic and relief.

“Sebby! Are you okay?!” Robin demanded as Maru seemed to be checking his pulse, his mom worriedly grabbing his face with both of her hands.

“Yeah, I'm…” Sebastian started to answer, before a wet cough racked his body. He managed a sheepish smile as he got himself under control, wincing as he corrected, “Actually, I don't think I could make it sound convincing. I’ve been better.”

“I'm so glad Maru came and got me when she did.” Robin let go of him to slump to the floor beside the couch, sighing loudly in relief. “You were barely breathing when we got you out of the lake.”

Sebastian frowned, unable to grasp anything that had happened after he'd gone under. “What exactly happened?”

“She beat Dad bloody while I tried to get the water out of your lungs.” Maru chimed in with a satisfied smirk, Robin quickly going red in embarrassment.

“I may have gotten a little heated…”

Maru patted Robin’s shoulder, before turning to Sebastian with a hand on her hip. “Now that you're awake, we should get you to the clinic. Just to be sure you're okay now.”

“Your turn to carry me down the mountain.” Sebastian grinned up at her, Maru trying to keep the fondly annoyed amusement off her face.

“Oh, shut up.”

[cressida-jayoungr]

One Dress a Day Challenge

November: Grey Redux

Working Girl / Sigourney Weaver as Katharine Parker and Melanie Griffith as Tess McGill

When Tess decides to impersonate her boss, she also helps herself to Katharine's wardrobe, including this classic grey two-piece suit. It's like the next-generation iteration of Maggie's suit from Funny Face, which started the month of grey (revisited)--so this seems like an appropriate way to close.

In addition to the shouldamapads, the stripped-down cut is very typical of the 1980s: the jacket has no lapels and only one button, while the shirts have no visible fastenings. Note that Katharine wears a white shirt with the suit, while Tess's is a subtle cream or beige. Both pair the suit with a houndstooth overcoat and a taupe shoulderbag, and both wear pearl earrings (but different necklaces). Katherine adds taupe gloves and grey hose.

[bonefall]

I think you might be talking about me--i sent in the post thanking you for giving Sorreltail epilepsy and I told you about my daughter. We missed the post about Shadowsight now having full epilepsy, but I want to thank you again. Shadowsight is her favorite cat, and she's so happy.

Glad to see you around!! Yep, I fixed Shadowsight too, in a way I hope you'll both like.

[ID: Better Bones Shadowsight. He is a large gray tabby with a black mohawk and red eyes. He has a jagged, red scar down his eye, splitting his ear in half, down his neck, and continuing down the arm.]

Since Sorreltail has absence seizures and her epilepsy is on the mild side, I went and gave Shadowsight a more severe type to get a better range of rep.

He has clonic-tonic seizures, which he was born with.

The seizures are NOT related to visions anymore! That's just a thing he has.

Tawnypelt's Clan is going to get reduxed into something less about needing to save the tribe again (which I have issues with as the narrative keeps taking away the tribe's competence and agency), to Tawnypelt seeking treatment for him.

Since his type is more severe than Sorrel's, his treatment plan includes chamomile.

Chamomile is poisonous to cats in high amounts, so its dose is carefully controlled.

I plan to show him growing more skilled as a medic with preparing his own medications, as measuring the dose is quite delicate.

It'll be served in broth form because the idea of him lapping up tea out of a little painted bowl is irresistible

And when he's possessed...

[ID: Better Bones Shadowsight. He is a large gray tabby with a black mohawk and pink eyes. He has a jagged, blue scar down his eye, splitting his ear in half, down his neck, and continuing down the arm]

The split ear is made to look like radio antennae. Like he's picking up signals.

The lightning bolt is what gives him that connection to StarClan and its warriors. Ashfur had intelligently blocked off the rest of silverpelt, so Shadow was only hearing HIM.

It glows blue because the electric is running in it, also Ashfur Symbolism.

The final battle with Ashfur is MUCH different. It takes place in the land between StarClan and the Dark Forest-- The Meadow of Young Stars.

Ashfur absorbs several cats and becomes something so large and strong that it can't be killed by regular claws

And it's in this moment that Shadowsight confronts the man who used and controlled him.

"You're nothing without me, Shadowsight! What are you doing?! Stop!"

He blasts the lightning bolt right back at him, giving up the connection to StarClan that Ashfur had given him, using it like an electric tether to hold him in place

He can't hold him! Rootspring, Strikestone, and everyone else he'd lost in the Impostor's Tyranny leap into action to hold him as he holds down Ashfur

It's that moment where Bristlefrost realizes what she must do

Instead of falling into water, Briss lines up, charges, and body checks the eldrich horror out of the sky like a shooting star

They burn up in orbit, crashing down to Earth as a pair of meteorites. There is going to be a crater on the map from this point on.

After this, he starts to look like the first image. His blue scar fades to light red, and his eyes go back to scarlet.

[avaritia-apotheosis]

Phantom Children: Redux | VI. A Practice of Obedience

A DPxDC crossover // Read on [AO3} or [FFN.net]

← Previous Chapter // MASTERPOST // Next Chapter →

◆◆◆

Three Years Ago…

Danny’s beginning to think he’s made a mistake.

Well, no, he’s always thought that. From the day Sam convinced him to pose inside the ghost portal to the moment he shook hands with Ra’s al Ghul, the voice in his head that sounded a little bit like Jazz would wag its proverbial finger at him. Danny would reason with himself that he had no other option except to join Ra’s al Ghul. That man was his grandfather and his parents’ benefactors. He’s wealthy, or at least powerful enough that Vlad would have a hard time pressuring Ra’s to give up Danny. 

Danny would be safe here. The whole world would be safe if Danny were here. Free from that terrible future of bleak gray skies and ruins upon ruins. Of Amity being a bright, shining city of the future—the only city of the future— and the wasteland beyond its borders.

Staying in Amity Park would have trapped him to that destiny— Danny knew it. His future was written in stone, or else why would the goddamn Master of Time try to kill him specifically? Danny had to leave. Had a duty to do everything in his power to divert the world from that catastrophic timeline. He owed it to his friends, his family. 

(There is another voice, one that sounds like Sam, saying that in many Greek myths, the ones who try to avert a prophecy only end up hastening it instead.)

Or maybe there was no mistake. There was no mistake because there was no alternative outcome. That no matter where he decided to go after Amity, no matter what he does, the seed of that dreaded future had already been planted and he was only prolonging the inevitable. 

So why not trust the al Ghuls? Why not trust the only family he had left in this world, the ones who took him in and helped him when he needed it most? Danny will give them all his secrets, his scant bit of knowledge, his weaknesses, so that when the future finally catches up with him, at least his family will be prepared to take him down.

(He refused to kill them again.)  

Whatever becomes of him in the future, Danny’s family will live. He will make sure of it. And the first step of his self-appointed mission was to tell his family exactly what the future held in store for them. 

Ra’s al Ghul— “Grandfather", the man would correct— listened to Danny’s sorry tale with an inscrutable expression, fingers steepled in front of him. “Well,” he said, leaning back into his office chair “This is certainly an interesting situation we’ve found ourselves in.”

Interesting, he said. As if he didn’t just find out that the boy he let live under his roof was a veritable nuke with a ticking timer.

“I did say it was complicated,” Danny tittered. His legs were getting stiff from standing like this for so long; his spine straight, shoulders rolled back, calling upon whatever bit or ‘proper etiquette’ he remembered from looking at Mr. Manson.

Ra’s quirked an eyebrow, as if sensing Danny’s distress. “Your feet are too close together. Place them shoulder length apart and you’ll feel much better.”  

Sheepish, Danny did so.

“Now, I will agree that your situation is rather ‘complicated’ as you put it, but I’m quite certain that it’s not the worst that the League has dealt with.” And what did that mean? “Regardless, I believe that the solution is quite simple.”

“And that is?”

“From the Fentons’ research—corroborated with your own information—ghosts are an extremely emotional breed of creatures. What drove the alternate you to the brink was not just grief, but the lack of control over that grief. The solution, then, is to train you to have more control over your own emotions, over your own mental faculties.”

Well…the theory looked sound enough. But it seemed simple. Too simple. “And how would we do that?”

Ra’s al Ghul gave a wry grin. “I have some ideas.”

◆◆◆

The next thing Danny knew, he was being shipped from the mountainous cradle of Nanda Parbat to Infinity Island, located…in some ocean somewhere. He didn’t really know, and it wasn’t like anyone would tell him anyway. It’s been over a month since he was unceremoniously dropped off here by masked men, with nothing to his name but a set of clothes thrown in his direction. Like any sane person, Danny assumed that there must’ve been some mix-up and went to find Dusan— Mentor, that is the name by which you call me here— to get this all straightened out.

The grin Dusan—no, Mentor —gave made the hairs on the back of Danny’s neck rise. Mentor explained that no, there was no mix-up. Ra’s al Ghul sent direct orders for Danny to be placed under his tutelage. It was for Danny’s own good, Mentor said. 

Infinity Island, among other things, functioned as some kind of boot camp for the League. (League of what, Danny didn’t know.) Danny was shoved in the most recently formed cohort—a group of twenty people between seventeen and twenty-five years old—who were already three weeks into their training. Which meant that the entire cohort had to repeat three weeks of training just so Danny could catch up.

Mentor insisted. He wanted to assess his students’ progress for himself, now that he was stepping in to take the place of their instructor. 

And while the cohort expressed their gratitude at being personally trained by an al Ghul…well, let’s just say that Danny doesn’t expect to be making friends anytime soon. 

Endurance training—or as Danny liked to call it, ‘Coach Testlaff’s P.E. Class from Hell on steroids’—would definitely rank in Danny’s Top 10 Worst Experiences Ever. Which was saying quite a lot considering part of that list was being mind controlled, getting electrocuted in a portal to hell, and seeing everyone he cared about blow up. 

(Smoke. Rubble digging into his palm. The smell of burning fle—)

Though unlike P.E. class, there isn’t a bell to tell Mentor when their training is up for the day. More often than not, they’ll be working late into the night. Given just enough time afterwards to drag themselves to their cots and pass out, only to be woken up just a few hours past dawn. 

◆◆◆

Danny dreams.

He seemed to be dreaming a lot these days.

He dreams that he is amidst the rubble of the Nasty Burger, hands welded to the boiler. The rumbling machine slowly tick-tick-ticking away at his life.

He dreams of waking up at his house, the entire explosion a hyper-realistic nightmare. Of running down the stairs to see his parents in the kitchen. Of hugging them, loving them, and raising his eyes up to see their burned and melted faces. Their charred hands cradled his cheek, and their gurgled voices ask him why .

He dreams that he is in the Ghost Zone. Trapped on a barren rock floating endlessly into the void with nothing but himself and the empty vacuum of eternity.

He dreams of floating above a world gone mad. His skin is a frostbitten blue, his hair a fiery mane. Two contrary states that pull on his insides and make him want to scream. He is twenty-four and fifty-five. Young and old. Phantom and Plasmius. Both and simultaneously neither at all. Either way he is grieving and grieving and the hurt won’t stop, their screaming will never stop, not until you make them. 

He dreams of a world in ruin, of fire licking the skies and bones crushed underfoot. He dreams of heroes falling and villains scrambling to find a place in this fractured world. He dreams of a woman— familiar but not—who fights him with the ferocity of a thousand infernos to buy time for her son to escape. 

He dreams of crushing her throat. The bones snapped so easily in his hands.

He felt nothing.

(Cold-cold-cold.)

He wakes up with a pillow thrown at his head.

“Will you shut up ,” said the person in the next cot over in lightly accented English. “Some of us are trying to sleep here.”

Danny placed his hands on the pillow over his face and debated screaming into it out of spite. 

Instead he mumbles a hoarse sorry through cracked lips and tosses the pillow back. The person—starts with an H, Danny couldn’t remember—simply glared at him before folding the pillow in half and sleeping the other way. 

Danny pulled his blanket higher over his shoulder. 

He cannot sleep. Refused to despite knowing that they will be woken up in a few hours and worked until their bones are jelly and their muscles sore and the moon high in the sky. 

A pair of bare feet came into his vision. “Oh mon dieu, you’re not crying are you?”

The figure—Danny still couldn’t remember his name—crouched in front of Danny. He was one of the older teens in Danny’s cohort, probably just a few years older than Jazz. He even had red hair, too, though it was shades darker and closer to a dark auburn than ginger. 

Danny glared at him. “Not crying,” he insisted. Though as his hand came up to touch his cheek, he discovered that it was wet. 

“Yeah,” drawled the other. “Not crying.”

Danny’s arm shot out to try and jab the guy in the chest and knock him over.

His fist was blocked. The man looked at him with a raised brow, amused. 

“What do you want?” Danny spat.

“What I wanted was to sleep, but since someone couldn’t keep their nightmares the fuck down—”

“I said sorry.”

“‘Sorry’ isn’t going to give me those precious minutes back, are they?” He said, throwing Danny’s arm back. “So I figured I’d come over here and find something interesting to keep myself occupied with. What’s your name, kid?”

Danny , he wanted to say. My name is Danny Fenton. “I go by Danyal.”

“Hm.” He sat himself down onto the cold concrete, legs crossed in front of him, and held out an open hand. “Name’s Henri.”

Apprehensively, Danny shook it. 

“Well,” Henri said, “now that the pleasantries are out of the way, tell me something about yourself.”

“What?”

Henri gave him a look. “Listen, Danyal, I’m tired but sleeping now is a lost cause considering that any minute now Mentor is gonna burst through those doors to whoop our asses into shape. I’m bored. You’re the only entertainment I’ve got.” He propped up his chin on the back of his hand. “So, tell me about yourself.”

“I…I don’t really know what to say.”

“I don’t know— anything?” He gestured at Danny. “You’re like, what, twelve?”

“Fourteen.”

“Same difference. Your life must have been all sorts of fucked up to end up here.”

Well, Danny thought, he isn’t wrong. “Well, I’m from—”

Henri cut him off. “Nope. We don’t share information about who we were before. That person’s dead, remember?”

“Dead? How did you—”

“You had to fake your death too, didn’t you? A lot of the recruits had to do that.”

“Oh…I didn’t know.”

“It’s ‘cuz you’re new.”

“Well then how am I supposed to tell you about myself if I can’t talk about myself?”

“...You have a point.” Henri grimaced. “It’ll probably just be easier to just ask questions, isn’t it.” 

Danny shrugged. “Probably.” 

Henri and Danny talked for no more than an hour before it was time to train once again. The questions were neutral, mostly. Awkward ice breakers that one would expect on the first day of school. Yet somehow, in that small time, Danny thought that he might have found himself something like a friend.

(Friend, his core sang. Friend-yes-maybe? Friend-red-friend-warm.)

◆◆◆

Training could consist of anything, though the majority of it dealt with physical fitness. Running laps around the island;  push-ups, pull-ups, and sit-ups; swimming against the tides; obstacle courses; drown-proofing; etcetera, etcetera. When it wasn’t any of those things, Mentor taught them how to eat, how to stand, how to sit, how to talk, and even how to breathe. Everything must be done with perfect intention. And if you failed, then you were met with a never ending tirade of insults shouted in your face and hours of extra training on your shoulders. 

And if they weren’t being yelled at, then they were being taught the purpose of the League. Of Ra’s al Ghul, and how the League functioned as the hand that carried out his ambitions. He spoke with a low and steady cadence, expounding upon them the evils and horribleness of the world and the greatness of Ra’s al Ghul’s mission. “The world is beautiful, recruits,” Mentor said. “But mankind pollutes it with its cruelty.” 

Danny thought of Vlad and his slow-burning rage. Thought of the GIW and their cruel zealotry. Thought of Freakshow and his need to control. Thought of Dash and the A-listers, their brutal fists and their sharp cut words; of Mr. Lancer and his willingness to turn a blind eye; of his parents, ridiculed and derided by Amity Park despite their genius. He thought of the story of a boy whose grief was so great he tore out his own humanity. And how his humanity transformed into a creature of red eyes and blue-tinted skin—turning on the boy and destroying the world.

(Danny…Danny didn’t disagree with the idea.)

He learned as well that the best way to survive this place was to never disappoint. A task that was, in itself, difficult to achieve. There was never a clear set of expectations of what Mentor wanted them to do. Sometimes Danny would think he’s done everything right only to be saddled with a dreaded  night watch. The bar always moved. Always changed. And Danny was left scrambling to please, hoping that he didn’t make a single mistake lest his training got any worse.

“Do not think,” Mentor commanded. “Only do.”

Do not think. Do not think. Danny could do that. Was willing to do that. Thinking was never his forte anyway. He would have done much better at school if it was. He wouldn’t be here if it was. His family would still be in Amity if it was. His friends would be with their parents if it was. Danny would still be fully human if he was just able to think.

Thinking also had the rather awful side effects of introspection. Of memories. Of regrets. Things that kept him awake late into twilight dawn which would only lead to mistakes. And mistakes lead to disappointment. And disappointment led to—

(A bitter cold bloomed in his chest. Could feel the phantom touch of frost covering his palms. Quickly, before anyone could see, he tugged onto that thread of cold and stamped it down. Willed his entire being to just— stop.)

It was better not to think. 

“Life in the League is simple,” Mentor said to them. “All you have to do is obey.”

◆◆◆

“You look like shit,” Henri said one night, subtly sliding his plate over towards Danny.

Danny made a garbled noise, mouth full of the salted dried fish and white rice. He was never a huge fan of fish before, but after eating salted fish every night during his entire stay at Infinity Island, it kind of grew on him. It beat the tasteless gruel they got for breakfast, anyway. He washed the food down with water. “Wha’d’you mean?”

“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?”

“Dunno if you’ve noticed, but there aren’t that many mirrors here,” Danny replied. He looked down at his water cup, angling it slowly to try and get a good look at his distorted reflection. “I mean…I guess those eyebags aren’t gonna go away for a while?”

Henri’s mouth flattened into a grim line, brows furrowed. “You look like you haven’t eaten in days, Danyal.”

Danny frowned.  That can’t be true. The League makes sure everyone got at least two meals a day, and Danny’s barely left anything on his plate. He pushed back Henri’s plate. “I’m fine. I haven’t skipped any meals or anything so you don’t need to—”

Henri pushed the plate back. “I’m not hungry.”

“Henri…”

“I’m not,” he insisted. “If you’re not gonna eat it, then I’ll just throw it away.”

Danny pursed his lips. That’d be such a waste. And…if he had to admit it to himself, he was still hungry….

“Just this once,” Danny said. He switched his empty plate with Henri’s and started to scarf down the food. They were never given a lot of time to eat. Mentor wanted them to be efficient in everything, and idle chit-chat just wasn’t part of that. 

Once became twice. Twice became thrice. Then more times after that. Henri never gave his entire meal to Danny again—the latter insisted—but he would always find ways to sneak portions of his food onto Danny’s plate without him noticing. 

Despite this, Danny’s figure remained stick-thin. Gaunt. Paradoxically so, considering his strength and stamina remained stable. The situation became severe enough that Mentor took it upon himself to intervene.

“Tomorrow you will not train with the rest of your cohort,” Mentor informed him privately. “I will be escorting you to the island’s on-site physician for an examination.”

Danny blinked. “Permission to speak, Mentor?”

“Permission granted.”

“Why are you escorting me personally? Wouldn’t it be more efficient to leave that to someone else so you can oversee the cohort’s progress?”

Dusan raised an eyebrow. “Am I not allowed to be worried for my nephew?”

Startled by the admission, Danny’s mouth hung open in a small ‘O’, head dropping sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Thank you, sir. That’s very kind of you.”

◆◆◆

Dusan al Ghul had never been blessed with children. He was not particularly disappointed with this; paternal instincts never called to him in particular, and he never saw the appeal of wasting his own time and resources on rearing tiny, squalling infants. But there was a certain appeal in the idea of parenthood . Of taking the primal and raw nature of life and shaping it to your own will. 

Nurture triumphing over nature.

 Immortality gained through the hearts and minds of the next generation. 

(He could already see it in young Damian— Talia’s cunning, Ra’s al Ghul’s strength, the Batman’s stubbornness. Each of them in some way leaving their mark on Damian. Living—existing— through him.)

(Is that not why the Dark Knight took so many under his wing? To have someone carry on his work when death finally takes a hold of him? It was why Ra’s al Ghul had children; there would be no one else more trustworthy to carry on one’s legacy other than one’s own kin.)

Parenthood was something beyond his understanding, but teaching was the next best thing. Here, in the League, Ra’s al Ghul gave him the honor of rearing each new line of assassins to serve his righteous cause. Above them, Dusan stood, a gardener of the shadows. At his discretion, recruits were assessed and trained, their limits found and tested to see which would break first— it or the recruit. The weak were weeded out, the strong cultivated. Arrogance was nipped at the bud, and loyalty, obedience , was sowed and reaped in abundance.

Danyal al Ghul was as soft as an unready mind. A seed that sprouted in substandard soil and yet, somehow, flourished into something more. But this sprout would not reach its fullest potential without his guidance. 

And so he would give it. Carefully.

Danyal was, in some ways, like the others the League recruited. Those people were nobodies. Nothings. Orphans and drug addicts and homeless people on the run. People that no one would miss. Those who the world gave up, and who gave up on the world. Desperate people whose faces are gaunt with a hunger for something to believe in, some place to belong.

Those who had nothing left to lose and will cling to whatever is given to them.

And yet…Danyal was nothing like them. Superhuman strength, speed, and agility. Cryokinesis, intangibility, invisibility, energy manipulation, flight, telekinesis. The League had been keeping track of Danyal’s growing list of abilities ever since they discovered that he and Phantom were one and the same being all those months ago. Unlike the regular recruits who, if they could not be trained, were trapped and disposed of, Danyal could not be contained. 

They had the Fenton ecto-weapon prototypes, yes, but there was a matter of the ectoplasm. While Ra’s al Ghul did generously provide the Fentons with a sample of the Lazarus waters for their experiments, no one but the Drs. Fenton knew the exact methods of which to isolate the ectoplasm from the waters and purify it into an energy source. The majority of the prototype ecto-weapons the League had at their disposal, however, Danyal had already shown to be able to overcome. Either by outright tanking them, or nullifying their effects somewhat with Danyal’s human half. 

It was a moot point of discussion, at the end of it. Phantom was too powerful a weapon to be put down at the earliest signs of disobedience. 

If they could not kill or contain Danyal, then they would simply give him no reason to leave. And no method by which to leave.

The Rosa disanthus was a rather elegant solution to their debacle. The flower in itself was harmless to humans— though its natural pungency was rather annoying, sweet and cloying like cheap perfume. But to ghosts, it was a natural repellant. One flower was enough to deter a ghost from approaching, but a whole bushel of flowers, arranged in a circle, were enough to entrap a ghost indefinitely. And, as Dusan realized, ingesting blood blossoms was enough to temporarily suppress Danyal’s ghostly half.

A daily intake of blood blossom tea was instrumental to keeping Danyal as pliable as he was. With it, he was unable to subconsciously draw on his supernatural abilities that would allow him to breeze through the physical stress of League training. Danyal was instead reduced to his own mortal strength and endurance. 

While Danyal’s physical capabilities were rather embarrassingly weak and underdeveloped—especially considering his parentage— it was exactly what Dusan required. A tired body is a tired mind, and a tired mind is one that is able to easily accept Ra’s al Ghul’s teaching. 

That there were side-effects were to be expected. That they took longer to manifest than Dusan anticipated was much more fascinating.

He pulled up in his off-road vehicle in front of the recruit mess hall. “Danyal,” he greeted. 

Danyal immediately stood at attention, his posture perfect. “Good morning, sir.”

“A fine morning it is, nephew. Come on up, we have places to be.”

The medical facilities were located on the northern side of the island. Not terribly far, but cumbersome to get to by on foot what with the dense jungle and sandy beach. 

The physicians were perfunctory in their examinations; they took vitals, ran labs, and cross-referenced everything with the Fenton ghost files. 

“You have been keeping with your diet regimen, yes?” Asked one of the physicians. He pressed his gloved fingers against Danyal’s skin, brushing the ridges of knobs of his spine. Blooming across his back were large, faint scars. Fractals branching across his torso like the limbs of a gruesome tree. “You are still too thin.”

“Fast metabolism,” Danyal mumbled. He sat on his hands atop the examination table, black shirt neatly folded beside him. His figure, though not skeletal, per se, was gaunt. Ribs poked from his pallor skin, stomach still concave for a boy who ate double the portions than any other member of the League of Assassins. “I’ve had it since the accident, but it’s never gotten this bad.”

The physician hummed, jotting his notes down alongside the results of Danyal’s vitals. “Do you happen to know why?”

He shrugged, expression wrinkled with skittishness. “Ectoplasm maybe? I’m not— I really don’t know for sure but that’s the best guess I can make. Before coming here, I’ve never been out of Amity for more than a couple weeks at most. And Amity—or at least FentonWorks—always had some kind of ambient ectoplasm around it.”

Another physician joined the first. She handed him a tablet, pointing to a specific section on the screen. “Logic checks out if that’s the case,” She said, one hand tucked into her white coat. “In a…metaphysical sense, these ghosts are like any other creature; a psyche in control of a vessel. Though while most living creatures have a vessel of flesh and blood and bone, ghosts have this ectoplasm.”

The first physician nodded, cupping his chin thoughtfully. “I see… In that sense, as humans need food and nutrients to keep our body working, ghosts use ectoplasm as their own source of energy.” He looked up at Danyal. “Your ghost is hungry, recruit.”

“If ectoplasm is what my ghost half needs then why…” Danyal gestured to himself.

“All things require energy to work,” the second physician said. “If your ghost half cannot get the energy it needs from ectoplasm, it must get it from another source: you. It’s difficult to confirm anything so this is all just conjecture, but it is my current hypothesis that your ghost is ‘rerouting’ your body’s energy to sustain itself, while only leaving the barest minimum for your human body to keep up with your current training.” She chuckled. “In more morbid terms, it's a very strange case of autocannibalism.”

Danyal paled, squeamish. 

Dusan cleared his throat. “What is to be done, then?”

She furrowed her brows. “If my hypothesis holds true, then the only permanent solution I can come up with is a return to Amity Park—”

“No,” Danny said vehemently. His fingers curled across the edge of the table, knuckles bone white. “No. That’s not an option.”

She blinked, then nodded. “It would not be feasible in the long run, anyway. You would be on a timer every time you left the city which is a weakness that would be exploited. A temporary solution would be some kind of ectoplasm based supplement. The Fentons, however, did not leave notes on how they engineered their artificial ectoplasm, and even if we were able to obtain enough ambient ectoplasm to study, we may not be able to reverse engineer it in time to create a working supplement.”

“So what you’re saying is that I’m fucked.”

“Perhaps not,” said the first physician. “There is another option, however we would need…permission first before we can consider.” 

Dusan was easily able to discern the physician’s meaning. What made Infinity Island a point of interest for Ra’s al Ghul was the Lazarus Pit hidden within the base of its extinct volcano. If the Pit did contain some form of ectoplasm, it may yet be the key to Danyal’s survival. 

“I will authorize it,” Dusan said. He turned towards Danyal, effusing an aura of warmth and concern. “Ra’s al Ghul would agree. He wishes only the best for his grandson.”

◆◆◆

When Dusan explained what the Lazarus Pit was to him, Danny was certain it wouldn’t work. A pit that brought people back to life? It sounded so impossible. Dead was dead; resurrection just went against the natural order of things. 

Then what are you? Mind-Jazz asked. 

The butt end of a Schrodinger’s joke. But…touché I guess.

And besides, if the pit could bring the dead back to life, how would that work with Danny? Would he still keep his ghost half or would the pit half-revive him and he’d end up fully human?

“Does it matter?” Dusan asked.

Danny chewed the inside of his cheek. Frankly, it did. While getting rid of his ghost half would ensure that Dan’s future would never come to pass, it would also mean that Danny would lose his one advantage. His one bargaining chip. “Before the accident, I wasn’t anyone special. Without Phantom I’m just… plain ol’ Danny.”

“Without Phantom, you are still an al Ghul.” Dusan laid a comforting hand on Danny’s shoulder. “And you will always be an al Ghul.”

Danny’s core flooded with warmth.

“Yeah.” he couldn’t help the trembling smile on his face. “We’re family.”

Danny heard the Lazarus Pit before he saw it. A low and steady hum reminiscent of the ghost portal. But…different. Not necessarily fainter but garbled, like hearing someone speak underwater.

The room was a large, open space, with jagged obsidian walls framed by red wooden pillars. It was dim, lit only by the green glow of the pit that consumed the majority of the space; a pool of too-clear waters and toxic-looking steam rising from the surface.

“Oh.”

(Oh, his core echoed.)

Danny stumbled towards it, half-dazed. The still waters seemed to shudder at his approach, small ripples gravitating towards him as if he were the moon, and they the tide. 

(We-us-them-calls-sustain-sustain.)

Danny could feel it. Could feel the energy of the Infinite Realms swirling in the pit, however diluted, and it was calling to him though he couldn’t understand the words. His knees hit the ground, one arm outstretched. He found himself lost in the green. In the call. If he just leaned forward a little bit more then—

Wait.

It seemed like an eternity before Danny could tear his gaze away from the pit. 

He looked up and met Dusan’s assessing gaze. “Requesting permission, sir?”

The corner of Dusan’s mouth curled up, pleased. “Permission granted.”

His core sang, pushing against the confines of Danny’s chest and tumbling them over into oblivion. 

[cybrthrillz]

(II) 15, (III) 13, (IV) 10 and 14 for retrowall ship questions

[ ship questions redux ]

II - 15. What is their most common argument about?

wallters gray stuff addiction. even after he tries quitting theres still lots of times where wallter struggles to let go of everything he once believed about concrete and gray stuff and often gets frustrated at drretro scolding him even though he knows shes right. i also feel like theyd get into feuds over money but wallters tried to chill out more about that after quitting gray stuff

III - 13. How do they make up after an argument? Who is the first one to apologize?

usually when an argument happens they just go one or a few days not talking to each other but then they miss each other and go back to hanging out and drretro is usually the one who apologizes first because wallter didnt like admitting that hes in the wrong but nowadays its wallter as hes trying to get better at it

IV - 10. Who is more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

most definitely wallter. drretro needs to be actively working because shes a freelancer while wallters making bank while he sleeps. he likes spending the morning with her in bed. drretro usually tries to wave him off because shes the kind of person who really hates the idea of leeching off of someone, plus the doctor doesnt want to miss out on helping someone in need, but sometimes the thought of going back to holding him for a few more hours is far too tempting.

IV - Who is the one who always says "I don't know" when the other asks where they want to eat?

100% drretro lmao, wallter is a lot more decisive in that department

[ollieinoue]

CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT TASK 002: FAMILY HOME (REDUX)

The Inoue household is located in a small 2 bedroom apartment, located on the 4th floor of an apartment block in the Washington Heights neighborhood of Manhattan, New York City. The family has never had a ton of money, but they managed to get by on his parents multiple full time jobs, as they never wanted Ollie to work telling him to focus on his school and get into college instead. Use that big brain of his that neither of them had (their words). Most of the furniture and décor in the apartment is second hand in some way, shape, or form. Whether it was gotten in thrift shops & flea markets, rented until they paid it off in full, or literally fished out of dumpsters. His parents aesthetic is pretty eclectic anyway, and the place is filled with books, records, photos, art, magazines, random weird knick-nacks and just about anything that could make a person’s apartment to feel like a home. 

Despite the size, broken appliances, shoddy plumbing with hot water that only works when it feels like working, no built in cooling, terrible landlord, living on the top floor of a building with no elevator, etc … Ollie’s never felt out of place in his childhood home, and that’s probably the most important thing for a person growing up, he understands that not everyone has been so lucky. 

THE LIVING ROOM

Filled with books, old records, some plants, a tv, and second hand furniture. 

Honestly the tv is probably the least used thing in the apartment. 

The first time he ever made out with someone was on that couch :’) during his twelveth birthday party. Oh the memories.

THE KITCHEN

The fridge is usually full of like frozen meals, and left overs, and easy to make food like that. 

Lots of good snacks. They’re a household of stoners. 

Lots of long lasting food, like rice, and soups, and canned vegetables and things like that.

Nothing fancy like dishwashers, and trash compactors. 

“We have no clean bowls, but we do have a wok. Boy, I love being Asian” - actual conan gray quote that is v fitting for Ollie’s life lmao

THE STUDY AREA

It’s basically just like the hallway between his parents bedroom and the bathroom. 

Ollie did most of his studying in his room, but that’s where the computer was so he did all the computer stuff there.

Also where his dad keeps all of his guitars, except he has his favorite acoustic one in his bedroom. 

You’ll see a lot of band paraphernalia on the walls from his dad’s band, and you’ll also find most of the Inoue family photos, and stuff like that. It’s where they keep all that stuff (or hung up on the fridge).

OLLIE’S BEDROOM

Where Ollie spent most of his time specifically in his teenage years when he was at home. A lot of reading. A lot of drug use. A lot of other activities...

His room is really small, so it’s really just room for a bed, his dresser, and his bookshelves. Because there were more than one bookshelves. 

Otherwise everything had to be fairly small and kept to his walls. 

It’s pretty chaotic, and cluttered. He’s a lot neater in the dorm tbh. 

OTHER

There is also his parents room which he hung out watching TV with them early mornings, when it was just one of those days nothing was happening. 

Also a bathroom which is small and not interesting.

The ‘dining room’ which is a table that is used for everything except eating. It’s where all the crap they’re carrying goes. They eat literally anywhere else except for on holidays of it they have GUESTS like important ones.

Any and All of Ollie’s friends are welcome to go to the Inoue apartment whether Ollie is there or not. They can just crash there his parents really don’t care. Especially if they are currently in some kind of bad way and need a place to be. They’re very nice people.

[exactlycleverpirate]

Rafayel's Timeline Redux Part 1

Spoilers below.

This thing is an ugly monster. If you want a more readable format, try this link.

See Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7.

“The Princess with a god’s heart, the God of the Sea who saved her - the Lemurian who rescued her from a cage time and time again…

They will meet once more.”

Thousands of Years ago, Lemuria disappears and becomes the stuff of myth and legend. 

?? Island of Songs (Myth) 

(I put this at the beginning because Amund says this is where everything started. It could also possibly take place near the end of Earth’s life or the beginning of Philos’ life.)

Amund: “If that island sparked the beginning of our demise, then everything should end there.”

MC is trapped on an island surrounded by gray skies and gray waves. She is waiting to be rescued by someone from the sea, because otherwise the waves will one day drown her. She is doing the same thing over and over.

“The sky gloomy, and the water a gray desert. Waves crash against the island in the center of the ocean. On the island, I am in a hut, surrounded by silence and solitude. I know that one day, the tides, boundless and cruel, will take me away. It’s…I’m waiting for someone from the sea to rescue me from this prison.”

Hidden in these sandy tides are ruins, its structures of various sizes. MC: “...Where are we?!” Rafayel: “The Island of Songs.” MC: “(It…sounds familiar.) Rafayel, I…I think I’ve been here before…” Something is calling out to me. Not waiting for Rafayel, I hurry and run into the ruins. Golden sands cover what was once an island. Fragmented walls and scattered roof tiles cover the ground. Withered branches reach to the sky. MC: “I feel like I know this place… I’ve walked these streets… I’ve seen these roof tiles… We’re in…” I run my hand along a wall, reaching a broken window. I can almost hear the gray waves lapping at the rocks. The loneliness and silence from my dream materialize, wrapping around me. MC: “This is the place I’ve dreamed about!” Rafayel: “Your Highness remembers.” MC: “In my dream, I was…” I was doing the same thing over and over… And next to me was… (see below)

Here is where the legend of the God of the Sea is born.

Rafayel: “Whence a Sea God’s legend arose.”

There are tablets of Lemurian prophecy and history buried on the island. MC knew they were there. (Did she write them or was she there when they were written?)

I start to dig. My intuition tells me an object of great importance is near. MC: “You said a Sea God’s legend originated from here… There…has to be…” I find a slab, cracked, in the ruins.

Rafayel: “The Tome of the Sea God? What does it contain?” Like golden leaves on the water, the symbols float and form words. Rafayel: “It’s Lemuria’s history and the Sea God’s prophecy.”

In exchange for her sincere devotion, Rafayel gives MC his heart. They make an eternal vow and bond, etched on their very souls.

Rafayel: “Is Your Highness not my master?” MC: “Master?” Rafayel: “Once Lemurians are bound to someone, we can never go against them.” MC: “Are you…referring to the time you were gifted to me? Taming requires plucking a Lemurian scale. I did nothing of the sort.” Rafayel: “Our bond has existed for years. Long before the sea dried up.”

MC: “...The heart belongs to the God of the Sea.”

MC: “Desiring the sincerest worship of mortals, thou must offer an irreplaceable object.” Rafayel: “The Sea God's heart, mine heart. Dost thou want it?”

MC: “You’re the god who gifted me this heart.”

MC: “We made a vow. You are the God of the Sea who has my sincerest devotion.”

It is my bond, my vow with Rafayel engraved deep within my soul.

MC: “Our vow is eternal.”

Continued on Part 2.