#i love the first line of a deadly education as much as the next person

[hanna-writes]

If a Scholomance tv series gets made, I want the first scene to be El on the floor in her room, knife in gut, Jack on top of her with that lovely smear of blood on his mouth, as she’s desperately reaching for the mana crystal just out of reach.

Freeze frame.

“Yup, that’s me. You’re probably wondering how I ended up in this situation.”

[missyasf]

Game Of Hearts

| 1 |

↳ Summary: Your life is in monotonous tones of grey, day in, day out. Nothing matters besides your sister, the only thing you remember is seeing fireworks before waking up to Tokyo abandoned . Soon enough you are properly introduced to the deadly Borderlands where you must fight for your life in Games to survive. When things can’t possibly get worse soon division arises and rivalries are made. No matter what though, you are constantly plagued by a blonde who, no matter how hard you try, just can’t seem to go too far without.

↳ Pairing: Chishiya/Reader

↳ Genre: Angst, smut, thriller

Word Count: 11k

___| Next

Trigger Warning: ⚠️ much like the manga/Netflix adaptation this will be a dark fic which includes mentions of prostitution, attempted murder, child ab*se, sexual harassment, heavy grief and attempted suic*de among other things. Additional warnings will be added for chapters when triggers are brought up. Please read with caution if these are triggers for you or just skip all together! 

Side mention: This could be considered a prequel to the current Alice In Borderland. I’m writing based off the Manga bc I was a glutton and couldn’t wait no spoilers will be present as of...

Escapism

noun

the tendency to seek distraction and relief from unpleasant realities, especially by seeking entertainment or engaging in fantasy ♡ 

You had known all about this during your short lifespan, as a child you’d often play pretend with your sister that you were movie stars living in a five star hotel rather than the shitty busted up apartment on the wrong side of town. Escapism came in, many forms. It was often a way for people to cope psychologically, simply because sometimes, facing the reality of your situation can be too much for one person to handle mentally. 

Or at least, that was the topic of your lecture today in class. The human mind always fascinated you. Even at the young tender age when your mom died and you watched your once cozy little family fall apart piece by piece until nothing was left in its wake. 

It was your fascination that drove you now for most things, why? Why, why, why? You always wondered what the motive was behind someone’s actions, not only thing but you wanted to  understand them better, to try and sympathize. You were already fairly intuitive in nature. It wasn’t difficult to read people. In fact your line of work made it easy, you’d watch a man who would be excited to be with you reach for his left finger as if used to touching something. A wedding band perhaps? 

The lowlife cheater was fairly common in a whore house after all. Or the man who had been pissy this morning behind you in line because you had decided to try something new on the menu and you weren’t fast enough, obviously because he was tardy and woke up late, his shirt unbeknownst to him was button the wrong way and his tie loose and even the way his hair fell were all signs of being late to work. 

It was the little things you noticed in people’s facial expressions, the way they moved and spoke. You could read people like a book, and sure sometimes it was useful. But you often wished you weren’t so perceptive. It drove you mad knowing when a potential love interest was no longer interested through a simple text or a friend not wanting to talk by their tone. Sometimes you wished you could just blot it all out, still, you lived like this day in and day out, you were used to this kind of thing and honestly. Friends? Love? Your gaze dropped a little to your feet, the pumps you were wearing a jet black and the heel too high for any respectable woman to ever wear. 

...It wasn’t like you ever had any of those in your life and you had struggled to come to terms with the fact that you could survive without that kind of support. Still...it made you envious, the couple happily holding hands on the sidewalk. The group of friends all laughing at a table while they studied. Oftentimes these feelings are muted, but when you’re faced with something you’ve always craved, those muted feelings suddenly become hyperactive in your mind. 

It’s pathetic, honestly. 

“How dare you! You disgusting slut!” 

In this moment however, you were brought back to reality at just what was happening, you squeaked loudly as you dodged the shoe the woman had thrown at you. This was all a regular occurrence, you had a lot of regulars who weren’t the most amazing people but hey, money was money. But along with them they also left a trail which their wives and girlfriends always followed. And then they always blamed you instead of their partner for leaving them for a prostitute despite you never having agreed to anything such as that.

It really wasn’t your fault, you were just trying to make a living while juggling with keeping up your own education, paying your fathers debts, rent and still somehow getting food on the table. What part time college job could provide that?

Prostitution wasn’t a job you would’ve gone into willingly but given the past and your trauma that was already laced in it you had been learning that sometimes because of the trauma we experience, sometimes people go back to that same trauma and actively participate in it as a way of feeling like they’re in control. 

That whatever happened before, would never happen again if you were in control. You weren’t sure if you qualified under this category, trauma came in many forms but the one most used as an example in your class was that a study showed that women who were assaulted often develop a kink for consensual non consent as a way of coping with what happened, except this time, it’s in a controlled environment where it can end the moment they want it too. 

Again, you weren’t sure you fell into this category, but you often wondered if your line of work was intertwined with your earlier memories when you were younger, if anything it brought comfort to you. Much of it, blotted out now simply because your mind couldn’t take it. Trauma expressed through amnesia was also much more common than many thought, and it’s so small, so easy to miss. After all how can you be aware of something if you have no memory of it anymore?

“Security!” Your manager screeched, two of the bodyguards were already between you and the feral woman who was ready to gut you clean as she screamed hysterically, her husband...your regular....at her side trying to get her to calm down only for her to come to her senses and slap him clean across the face. You didn’t condone violence, but he did have it coming...

You weren’t about to justify cheaters, you couldn’t imagine the hurt someone had to feel that not only did their partner cheat on them, but it was with someone...like you...You had been trying not to put down your job occupation, sex workers were just as valid as anyone else...you knew you would’ve thought this way if it was anyone but you in this position. 

You sighed as you ran your hands through your hair, watching the couple get dragged out of the tight space of the brothel, “Jesus christ....didn’t you say you stopped using perfume because of this?” Miki, your manager sighed as she crossed her arms. You didn’t want to say your manager was your friend but she was the closest you had as you’d often complain to her about most of your problems. Sex work often attracted broken people, it wasn’t something she wasn’t used to. 

“Yeah, but apparently he never got around to washing his clothes…” You wiped your mouth on the back of your hand, “Lipstick stain,” You glanced down at the ruby pink color that stained your skin now, “Fuck...that did hurt.” You rubbed your sore cheek that was still throbbing from where she had first slapped it when she ripped the door open of the room where she got to see with her own eyes you riding her husband. 

It had happened so many times now you weren’t even embarrassed about someone walking in let alone a partner. Miki gave you a lopsided smile as she patted your shoulder, “Guess that just pays for being one of the best here. Did you at least get paid.” 

You nodded, “Yeah, I always make them pay in advanced but I was hoping to get a tip afterwards...He was a lawyer so you know he had good money.” You sighed, crossing your arms, you were well aware of his partner because a lot of the time he didn’t even come in for sex anymore. It was funny how humans work. 

He often felt his wife was overbearing and you had suspected some sort of verbal abuse by the way he talked about her constant screaming. Truthfully, you don’t think he ever intended on cheating with her. He just wanted someone to talk to without being judged, you could relate with sympathy to that, but he unfortunately chose to walk into a brothel instead of a therapy clinic and this truly was the only inevitable outcome. Still, you hope if for anyone’s sake, he gets that divorce for himself. 

 “Hey I think I’m gonna call it a day. I need to get back to Nanami, she was wanting to talk to me about college applications.” You sighed as you rubbed your neck, ever since she had graduated high school she had been chomping at the bit to start applying for college, maybe to just get out of the house and into a dorm. You couldn’t blame her and if she did that it would lighten your load a little. 

Guilt washed over you at the thought as Miki chuckled, “They grow up pretty fast huh? My brother was the same way, except the moment he found out I was a sex worker was the moment he called me a whore and we haven’t talked since. That was probably about five years ago,” She crossed her arms as she sighed, “Crazy how the things we do for the ones we love, never appreciate our effort...I’ll see you tomorrow then?” 

“If I’m not bruising.” You offered a weak smile as you nodded at her before going back to your room to get changed. Truthfully, you much like anyone else, often wished you could go to a world where reality wasn’t a concept any longer. Where you could lay out in the sun for the whole day and just soak up it’s rays with no worries or trepidations. 

But sooner then later everyone had to face their fears. Even you, you supposed. But no matter how hard you fought your demons, they always came back tenfold. Again, you supposed your story was no different from tens of thousands, and yet you all live on regardless. Maybe it’s you who should be the one seeking therapy. Pulling on your jeans and the cropped top over your head before pulling the jacket over your arms and grabbing your bag. 

The walk home was as quiet as ever, your hood over your head and earbuds any unwanted attention, it wasn’t too late at night, only eleven PM and your work had just been getting started but that had ruined the night for you and besides, you had already failed a test today, you could use the sleep tonight. 

Occasionally you’d hear the sirens of  a cop car passing by or a bystander shout, nothing out of the ordinary in this neighborhood. Walking up to the apartment complex you pulled the key from your bag as you unlocked the door. Quietly stepping insides as you shut the door before locking it once more. Your nose wrinkled at the smell of stale air mixed with rotten...something…

If anything, you were always lacking in something, you had been so busy most of the day that you never had time to clean anything leaving the house in a horrible state. Not that you thought this was much of a house. 

Walking down the narrow hallway you opened the rickety door with a missing lock as you gave a brief smile to the small clump of bedsheets. Your sister was curled up and on her phone, eyes darting to the door with a hint of fear before she jumped up, “Y/n! You’re home earlier from night shift already!?” 

You offered a smile as you set down your bag and nodded, sitting down on the mattress that laid on the floor as you replied, “Yeah, a coworker needed the extra hours so I let them cover for me tonight. Besides, you wanted to talk about college applications?” Your sister was under the impression your late night job was bartending at some hole in the wall downtown, where in all actuality you just went there to drink a few days and talk to the loud and sometimes obnoxious, but good hearted bartender who loved talking about his nerdy underaged friends that couldn’t do anything beside stay and drink soda. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t think your sister would accept you, if she knew what you were actually doing. Fear, most times came in many different forms and this was one of them. You simply didn’t want to be judged, even by her. So nobody in your life truly knew who you were, and therefore, how could you hold the expectation for people to accept you into society if you were already self sabotaging yourself? 

All philosophy aside, you were simply a lost soul, looking for your way in the cruel reality called life. 

“Yes!” Nanami was chipper as always as she squealed, clapping her hands, “I…! I was thinking about applying to the university you attend! Maybe I'll get a grant and move into the dorms there? I already applied for several jobs, I’m just waiting on a callback!” 

You offered a small smile as you hugged your knees to your chest, “I think you’d like it there, there’s lots to do around campus. But what will you go in for? The only advice I can offer is be sure it’s what you want to do.” 

Nanami’s face faltered a little as she hummed, “Well...I thought maybe working with animals? I’d love to be an assistant surgeon in veterinarian? I know it’s a pretty...sad job but...I really like the idea of being able to heal such innocent things.” Your smile tugged into a gentle one at your sister. She was too tender for this world.

It had been your goal sense the day your mother died that you took care of your sister, it didn’t matter what happened to you. You could rot for all you cared at the end of the day, all you wanted was to look up and see your sister's smile and her happiness in life blossom. She more than anyone deserved it. 

“I think you’ll be great at it.” You encouraged as you rested your chin on your hand, always happy to see her bounce in excitement as you yawned, your body was used to your demanding schedule but it was always more than happy to welcome a few extra hours of sleep.”

Hearing the door loudly slam close caused you both to jump, Nanami hurriedly crawled back in bed, pretending to be asleep as you frowned. Your dad must’ve come back home from wherever he was. 

“Y/n! Just stay here! Can’t you talk to him later?” Nanami looked scared, she always did when he was around. But you weren’t about to stand down to the bastard any day of the week, you offered a weak smile as you replied. 

“It’s fine Nami, I’ll be just a few minutes.” You replied, you knew that she knew, that was probably a lie. But you’d try your best, for her sake at least. But somebody had to put this guy in his place occasionally and it was always you. It results in a lot of screaming sometimes, other times he’d break down in tears or on a bad occasion you’d get shoved to the ground, a few times hit. Nothing major. 

Walking out of the room you leaned against the wall of the entrance of the hallway watching your father stumble around in the living room, “Did you finally talk to the loan company?” You called out as you asked, not in a forgiving mood tonight. He had said he’d do this for two weeks in a row. The company that sank your whole family into the ground. The reason your mother couldn’t take it anymore and put a blade to her wrist. 

Your father stood up, looking a little wobbly, obviously drunk, “Now listen here little girl I don’t have shit to own to you or anyone else.” You sighed as you tucked your tongue into your cheek, annoyance flowing inside you as you straightened up. You weren’t going to be bullied into being scared of this guy. 

“Actually you do,” Your smile twisted into something more sharp, more bitter and sinister as you walked forward, “See, if you hadn’t of gotten involved in something shady like loan sharks we wouldn’t be drowning in debt and mom wouldn’t have killed herself because of you and both your daughters wouldn’t hate you. I know you drink away all our money in some pathetic attempt to escape from the cold reality that you fucked up your whole life and watched your family slip from your fingers while not even trying to do anything other then put us in further shit,” You closed your eyes as you tilted your head, “But the least you could do, is admit that. You owe us at least that for being a total fuck up.” 

You opened your eyes to find pure rage brewing in your fathers eyes as you smiled once more, this time a false sense of sickly sweet tone to it as you shrugged, “Or you could live in denial, at this point, there really isn’t anything you can do to get anyone back ♡ ” 

You had turned around, planning to tell Nanami that maybe she should go sleep over at a friends house today but you never got the chance, suddenly being slammed into the wall and flecks of spit hitting your face, “I am your fucking father! I deserve respect from you and your worthless sister! Do you know how much I provide for you both?” 

Anger splintered through your veins as you grabbed onto his wrists, his fingers digging into your neck as you squirmed, “Like fucking what!? A shitty broken down apartment that your vacant from because you’re too fucking ashamed of yourself to even look at us sober!?” 

Much like years in the past you weren’t surprised to hear Nanami cry as she rushed out of the room at the sound of you both screaming, “Stop!” She cried out, trying to break you both up, “Stop! Don’t fight! Why…! Why can’t we all just get along!” She sobbed only for your dad to shove her down making her curl up in defeat. 

Alarm bells were triggered in your head at the sight of Nanami on the ground, she had never actually gotten hurt while in your sight and it was triggering something deep inside you as you watched him stalk up to her. Your hands shaking and rage boiling in your mind as you grabbed the closet thing you could find. An empty beer bottle on the table. 

Your vision blurred and you don’t quite remember what happened other than glass shattering over his head and the brute force of you shoving something before blood was stained on your hands. 

How did you end up sitting against the wall? Why was there….blood on your hands…? Your fingers trembled at the metallic sticky substance. All you could hear were Nanami’s sobs and cries as she frantically pushed herself away from the body slumped on the ground. 

“You…! He…!” Nanami’s eyes brimmed with tears as you heard a loud boom making you jump, your eyes darting to the open window where….fireworks, big and bold crashed and crackled before you felt like you were sucked into a vortex making your whole vision black out. 

Your head felt fuzzy and there was ringing in your ears as you groaned, curling up into yourself as the darkness beckoned you closer before you forcibly opened your eyes. You were laying against the hardwood floor. Beams of light streaked through the window and you could see dust particles in the air against the shower of sunshine that streamed in. 

...Wait...Light? The thought had perplexed your head enough to make you push up from the ground, memories pulling into your mind as your breath became shallow, suddenly looking to the side where...you slumped against the wall. It must’ve just been a bad dream….your eyes flickered to Nanami’s curled up figure...a really vivid dream…? Something wrenched in your gut as you rubbed your eyes. What happened? “Nami…!” You whispered, forcing your muscles to move despite their protest as she whined. 

After another moment she reluctantly opened her eyes, flickering around before she suddenly scrambled up, taking a deep breath as if realizing what had happened before, looking towards where your dad once was she frowned, “...I...What…” She seemed just as perplexed as you and if her face was anything to go by, last night had obviously happened, “Is dad…” She looked at the absent place of the floor. 

Leaning against the wall your eyes darted around the room, “I guess so…” You silently felt relief at knowing your dad was still very much alive as you leaned back as you closed your eyes, trying to remember what had happened before everything went dark...oh..! The fireworks...had it been a celebration last night? Your brows pinched together, something felt...off...getting up you opened the door to the apartment walking out. 

“Y/n? Y/n! Hey! Where are you going!” Nanami called out, quickly chasing after you as you frowned, cars were parked odd and there was no one out on the street...as in...at all...Something was very wrong and you couldn’t figure out what. 

“Wow...it..must be a slow day…” Nanami felt a sense of discomfort at the lack of life as you both walked down the side walk, it didn’t just feel like a slow day it felt, apocalyptic. As if humanity just left on it’s own leaving nothing but an empty city behind. Cars were parked on the curb and a few even left in the street.

“No, it’s like everyone vanished...This is really weird.” You wrapped your arms around yourself as you frowned, looking around as you came closer to where typically it would be a booming part of the downtown but it was empty, just as everything before. 

“Well, maybe it’s a national holiday?” Nanami rubbed her head, trying to make sense of the situation just as much as you, surely everyone wasn’t...gone...right? She looked around as she bit her lip, second guessing herself at all the cars that were vacant, “Hey Y/n.” 

You paused as you looked at your sister, curving an eyebrow as she offered a weak smile, “What if everyone got raptured away like they talk about in christanity?” Your expression flattened as she giggled, obviously getting a rise out of you as you crossed your arms. 

Raptured? Where? To heaven? “Wouldn’t it be fire and brimstone then if that was the case?” Nanami pouted at your words as you shrugged, snickering yourself at her expression, the tables now turned as you sighed, “I don’t think there’s anyone left in Tokyo...I mean, it feels like...we’d have seen someone by now...right?” 

“Well…” Nanami frowned once more, a little disturbed at your words as she spoke, “There’s no way everyone could be gone I mean, where would they go? And how could we miss something like that...Maybe the police found us and now we’re under some weird simulation.” 

Chills spilled down your spine as you shoved her making her whine, “Don’t say that! That makes me feel all weird…! I didn’t…!” You cut yourself off, you didn’t what? Murder your own dad in cold blood...you looked down at your hands, they were free of any blood but it still felt like something like sin lingered. Like no matter where you went, it would always be stuck to you.

You didn’t like this, not one bit. Briefly you felt the urge to go hunt down your dad, he was a deadbeat but you would never...you’d never kill him....Right?

“Well…” Nanami hummed her eyes scanning ahead before they jumped to the mall that was up ahead, “Hey…! If nobody is here...maybe we could make use of it! Come on! Let's go!” You yelped at her grabbing your arm before dragging you ahead. Cars were all parked and yet not a single person exited through the mall's entrance. Something just felt off! You wrapped your arms around yourself as you warily looked around the empty mall, “Nanami I really don’t like this!” You looked around, concern bubbling inside you as she ran ahead into the store, digging through the section of clothes as she giggled. 

“Relax! I doubt any of this is real and even so…! Who’s going to stop us!?” She shrugged as she bounced in excitement, “Oh my god! I had dreamed of something like this happening! Now we can do whatever we want! Go wherever we want! Y/n!” She gasped with a smile, “Now we don’t even have to worry about money!” 

“We don’t even know if this is permanent.” You looked around warily, not partaking as she began plucking off the racks, “Regardless of what this is, I don’t like it. I want to go back home, our home. This just doesn’t…” You shook your head, “This just doesn’t feel right.” 

“Well you can feel that way!” Nanami clacked her tongue as she gave a childish smile, “But I’m gonna go through this whole store and get a new wardrobe so feel free to sit on the bench and tell me what you think looks good!” 

Looking away you sighed, unable to pinch the anxious feeling you had away as you sat down reluctantly as Nanami went into the changing room. Well...at least she was smiling and she was happy...With each outfit Nanami tried out and giggled, you giggled with her and maybe things weren’t so bad after all…

“What a perfect day.” Nanami hugged you close as she sighed, yawning as you looked up at the sky in awe, you had seen a single star while living in Tokyo before, but now it was filled with constellations and millions of stars that stretched for miles. You could stare at it for days and days. The sun had just set a little over half an hour ago and you were ready to retire and find something to eat at the apartment. 

You and Nanami had tried going to the food court but much to your dismay everything had been...rotten...soiled and ruined, meaning there was no point in trying to find anything there and you were getting really hungry despite devouring bags of chips you had both got at the convenient store, another thing that stood out to you was that there was no electricity...at all..

Looking back up to the sidewalk something caught your eyes...was that…! Light!? “Hey! Nanami look!” You shook her making her squeak as she looked up ahead, “It’s the hospital! They have electricity there which means there’s other people! Of course! Why didn’t we think to check essential areas!? Come on! Lets go! I wanna figure out what happened.” 

“Alright! It sucks that this is already over but at least I can finally charge my phone, the battery is pretty low.” Nanami nodded in agreement as you both made your way up the road. 

The walk wasn’t too far and you felt excitement fill you at the sight of the hospital all lit up as you walked into the entrance, a frown slowly setting on your lips once more as you walked past the receptionist desk and…! Oh there’s other people! 

You felt relief wash over your as you ran up, there were at least seven other other people here at least! “Hey! Guys oh my god. I thought everyone was gone! What’s going on?” You asked, smiling bright in relief that you and Nanami weren’t the only ones left behind. Was this some kind of evac point or…?

Silence ensued and you slowly began to frown as you felt everyone stare at you as if you were insane, “Um…” You wrapped a hand around your arm, suddenly feeling as if everyone knew something you didn’t, “What’s going on…?” You furrowed your brows as you tilted your head, unsure of why everyone was looking at you like this. 

Somebody looked like they were going to talk to you, a guy relatively around your age but a woman stopped him- his girlfriend maybe? “Stop, the less that know the better chance we have.” She said quietly though you still heard just enough. Fear twisted inside you as you took a cautious step back...The...the less you knew? 

“Wow, you guys are assholes,” A girl suddenly whistled out, she was sitting in a waiting chair, a cowboy hat on her head paired with distressed jeans and...a bikini top? Strange but you’d roll with it if it meant getting answers. She stood up as she offered a smile, “Akari, nice to meet ya’. You folk must be new to the Borderlands huh?” She jutted her bottom lip a little as you frowned. 

“Um I’m Y/n and this is my sister Nanami...?” You introduced yourself despite feeling confused as you raised a brow, “Borderlands…?” You echoed, what was that supposed to be? Other than Tokyo?

Akari gave a nod as she let out a brief chuckle, as if amused by your confusion but you sensed she had no real ill will unlike....your eyes checked to the couple that stood off in the corner on their own, “That’s what they call it here,” She nodded in affirmation as your eyes darted back to her in confusion, “To be frank with ya’, I don’t have a damn clue what's going on. Nobody does. But ever since you crossed the threshold there’s no going back, so I’ll be brief. We’re all considered outsiders here and we participate in games at venues such as this to extend our stay.”

Nanami and you looked at one another confused as Akari waved you over to the table in front of a TV, “Here, you’ll wanna put these on, it’s for the game.” She explained as you carefully picked up the metal bracelet, something about it felt ominous as you reluctantly put it on, jumping at the way it latched together and there was no getting it off now, “Word of advice, just don’t panic and you probably won’t die.” 

“What?!” You screeched as Akari smacked your back, panic evident in your voice as you turned around to face her making her laugh again, this girl was insane! She had to be! “You’re…! You’re joking!” 

Akari wrinkled her nose as she tilted her head, “Ah shit, I wish I was- Oh…! There’s the last player!” Just on que everyone turned to look at who had arrived, someone heaving breaths with their hands on their knees as if they had sprinted. You were mildly worried at why he seemed so scared but you had a feeling that was the least of your problems right now.

“Y/n what’s going on…?” Nanami frightened grabbed your arm as she hid a little behind you due to all these immensing strangers that looked like they were ready to feed you to the sharks, literally. 

The guy walked past you both as he put on his bracelet, your eyes sharp as you watched it latch together automatically, your gaze jumping to everyone's wrists to notice you were all now wearing one. The TV suddenly lit up. 

Game 

You squinted your eyes a little at the sight of the screen, just what were you about to unwillingly participate in…?

Difficulty: 5♣

“The game you will be participating in is, Monster under the bed.”

A playing card? Monster under the bed? Your brows furrowed as you looked at Nanami who shrugged a little despite her concerned expression, looking just as confused as you. You could’ve made a joke out of this, surely it would’ve been easier. Maybe everyone would bust out laughing and you’d be at the end of a poor joke but...somehow you felt that wasn’t the case. Thus paying very close attention to whatever was on this screen, 

“Everyone will be sectioned off into pairs by the number chosen on your bracelet, when the doors to the ward open you will have three rounds ten minutes each to figure out who is the monster under the bed that must be returned to its own, once the ten minutes is up you must hide before you are found. If the selected pair that is the monster is chosen correctly it’s a Game Clear.  If the monster is not found by the end of the third round or if the pair fails to hide it’s a Game Over.” 

Rules: 

Once the doors are open you and your partner must find a hiding spot by the time limit

Both partners must be hidden. If one is exposed to the monster it’s a Game Over for both partners

There will be an X marked on the ground to place the monster of your guess onto. 

You will have three rounds of ten minutes each to find the monster.

Any attempt to remove bracelets results in a Game Over

If the monster is not found by the third round a Game Over.

The only Game Clear condition required is for the monster to be returned by the third round.

What…

What!? 

“Now the game will commence, you have five minutes to figure out who you have been paired up with before the doors open.”

Your mind was blanking as you watched everyone look down at their bracelet, hurriedly you lifted your arm as your mind blanked 2 looking back at Nanami her lips were already quivering as she sniffled lifting her arm in defeat as your lips dropped open, 5.

“Hey! Guess you’re my partner!” Akari grinned as she wrapped an arm around Nanami who sniffled, “Oh…” She looked between you both, “Oh! Oh don’t worry! We’re not the monster so I’ll make sure your sister lives! You should go find your partner.” 

Your hands trembled unsure of what to do before you went to hug Nanami, “Whatever happens just stay calm okay! I need to go find my partner now!” You whispered, kissing her cheek as she sniffled while nodding. 

Everybody was shuffling around looking for their partner now, you passed by a few people, 4, 1, 3...did you even have a partner…? You scanned around, your throat tightening a little in panic, there had to be a mistake! There were only 8 people surrounding you- you yelped at the tight grip that suddenly held your arm forcing you to turn around to be met with a white hooded figure, a lollipop handle hanging and earbuds in before sighing, “So it appears I’m stuck with someone useless.” The man concluded as he stood up making you back away a little as your lips parted somewhat indignantly. 

How...how rude! You looked up, unable to fully make out his face but you could tell you didn’t like him one bit, “I’ll…! First of all I’m not useless! I’m just trying to understand what's going on! This is insane! We aren’t actually going to die from this, are we!?” Pushing his hood down you were immediately met with a snide gaze and cat eyes that leered at you like you were nothing more then dirt beneath his feet, long blonde hair pushed behind his shoulders and his bangs hanging low, suddenly a viscous side smile appeared on his lips, “Apparently so, otherwise I wouldn’t have watched half my last game get their brains blown out and the other half hung.” 

You reeled a little away from the blonde, your face dropped in semi horror, unsure if this was just a sick joke or he was serious. You searched his face a thousand times over, but for the first time in your life, you couldn’t figure out what his goal was. You couldn’t figure out anything about him, except he was exceptionally cold, “Well I don’t suppose I have much choice to doubt you,” He said with an annoying sing song tone as he rattled his wrist that showed the bracelet with a matching 2 on it, “My name is Chishiya, just stay out of my way and we’ll both live.” 

How arrogant! You scoffed as he walked past you, not the least bit bothered at your offense as you whipped around, glaring at his back. How come out of everyone you got stuck with the most…! Pompous! Arrogant! Ugh! You crossed your arms as you followed behind him, stilling secretly sending daggers into his back with your eyes as everyone shuffled into the ward. 

Hospital beds were scattered around the room, a few closets and one large vent at the bottom right corner of the room ahead. 

“Wait, what is this?” The first person to speak was a fair thin older gentleman, he appeared friendly as he observed the room around him, everyone looked around in confusion as you noticed what he meant. 

Any possible hiding spot was covered by either sheets of metal or locked tight...How were any of you supposed to hide if…!? The rules mentioned nothing about solving puzzles to gain access to a hiding spot!

“Forget that,” Another man said with a sneer he was broad and a bit older, well into his late twenties at least, perhaps a gym coach? Or maybe a wrestler of some sort? He looked like he could break you and nearly every other person in this room like a twig, “We need to figure out who’s the monster. “ He cracked his knuckles as you leered a little away and nobody spoke for a second. 

Of course, who would out themselves as the monster, more importantly, how does one even know they’re the monster? You could immediately feel tension rise as the previous, more patient man spoke, a little more collected, “How about we just check one another's’ watches! If anywhere it would show us on that! One pair should work on solving these puzzles here so everyone has a place to hide” 

“Unless the monster is among us and it sabotages us so we all die by the time limit.” The girlfriend crossed her arms as she darted her eyes around. Truthfully you didn’t know what to believe, the wording on the soundbox was rather confusing as to just what were you looking for. Was the monster supposed to be in the group or it’s own entity?

“If that were the case it would’ve showed up on our watches, which it didn’t. So that won’t work.” Chishiya spoke matter of fact, his tone cool as his eyes gazed across the room before he walked away from the group inspecting various hiding spots granted you didn’t think he was about to help anyone but himself, if anything you were at least lucky that him securing a hiding spot meant it was one for you as well. 

You looked at everyone in confusion, some arguing while others scattered to look for a hiding spot as the clock ticked down. You breathed in relief at the sight of Nanami and Akari both going for a bed to hide under. Your gaze finally found Chishiya’s form before following him, unsure of what you were supposed to do, if anything outside trying to figure out just what the monster even was. 

You glanced up at the digital clock that stood above the entrance you had just come in from, it was already a minute in before you searched the floor where you found a red X in the center of the room, that must’ve been the...what? Offering spot? You cringed a little at the idea. Looking forward you peered behind Chishiya’s shoulder deciding to not think about that, it seemed the metal sheet that had wrapped around the bed and was sealed to the ground was locked by some sort of metal device…? Contraption? Lock?

“Isn’t hiding under a bed a bit obvious…?” You frowned as you crossed your arms, unsure as you looked behind your shoulder once more to where accusations were already being thrown in the group. 

“The vent is a decoy to make you waste time, I already checked,” Chishiya replied, his fingers nimble as they rattled the metal, “And even if someone were to accomplish it in the time limit it’s the most obvious spot the monster would first check. Next would be the closet given it’s at eye level and the first thing one is drawn too when they walk into a room.” 

Your lips parted a little in surprise at his assessment...obviously he wasn’t just overconfident, “And why this spot?” If he had really thought about all this in less than a minute then...did he have a reason for this spot? You now found yourself, slightly less annoyed and a little more curious as to what was going on in his mind. 

“If the monster were to check a bed it would be after his eyes are drawn to the closet. Next in that line of sight would be the vent directly across it, which would be his next place to look if not his first and vice versa. The beds are all staggered throughout the room making them less conspicuous compared to the other hiding places, the bed on the far end of the room would be no good.” 

Your brows furrowed in curiosity at his assessment as you watched Chishiya blow a piece of hair from his face, wiggling out one piece of the knotted metal, “It’s too far from the entrance where as the one in the middle is by average the one most people would start with, where as the first? It’s almost too soon in the start to look there thus making it the safest.” 

“It’s them! They’re over there conspiring!” You both twisted around to watch the broad man point an accusing finger at you both as your eyes darted from him to the clock on the wall, which read at six minutes. A few other pairs, relievingly so was your sister had started working on a hiding spot while a few others stood around and argued. 

Your face coiled a little as you replied, not appreciating the accusation to such a baseless accusation, did they not realize the longer they argued the less time they had to secure a hiding spot? “Someone who’s terrible at playing the minority would often be the first to point fingers. There’s only six minutes left before the first round is over and we need to hide. But if you want to talk about this then sure,” 

You stepped closer as you crossed your arms, scanning over him before continuing, “Let’s talk about the chances of you being the monster, ever since you first came in you’ve been all twitchy and acting like something is wrong. Even when we first got paired up, you seemed a little panicked. Anyways,” You turned around as you spoke, “How do we know one pair is a monster and not one single person?” 

“Eh,” Akari sat on the bed that her and Nanami chose as Nanami fumbled to work out the puzzle, she had always been good at those! You felt assured as your heart beat frantically at the idea of them not being able to get a hiding spot in time, “Let’s all calm down,” She gave an awkward laugh, “This isn’t a hearts game, we shouldn’t divide our trust. This is a team building after all which means this game should be making us work together, the last thing we need to do is throw that away on our own accord.” 

“...Team building?” You frowned as you murmured having not been aware that this was some sort of game category...Hearts? Clubs? The memory of the playing card flashing on the screen appeared in your mind again, right...was that to stand for some kind of game genre? If Clubs stood for team building then...there should be no reason that the monster is any of you. Why would they even suggest that to begin with?

Then...what was the monster? 

“One minute remaining.”

The lights suddenly began flickering, “Got it.” Chishiya yanked the last piece of metal undone as he pulled the sheet of metal off, everyone was now scrambling and the few who had not done their puzzle were now panicking. Getting down you crawled under the bed, your back flat to the ground as you inhaled sharply as you noticed the lights beginning to dim, “This is...uncomfortable.” You mumbled, trying to ignore being pressed shoulder to shoulder with a man you didn’t even know besides him having a god complex, “We should’ve went with the vent.” 

“By all means, if you want to try and get yourself killed already. Go for it.” You turned to look at him, dark endless cat eyes meeting you as you harshly glared at him, why was he so condescending!? 

You were about to snap back something before you realized it was completely dark and the door slammed open causing you to jump. Was your heart always this loud? You could see the heavy boots step against the ground making you unsteadily inhale, swallowing as you closed your eyes. You could only place your trust that Chishiya hadn’t picked a horrible spot. 

More importantly your mind was plagued with worry for your sister, you had been so caught up you hadn’t even tried to help her yet...did she even…! You heard a sudden loud scream from two people causing you to stiffen as you looked up at the bed frame lined with wooden planks. You could only cower back down at blood suddenly painting the floor.

Your stomach suddenly churned as you covered your mouth. So he wasn’t lying. Chishiya however looked just as nonpulsed as he did when he first told you himself, his eyes blankly staring up at the bed frame as if this was just a regular game of hide and seek as people screamed as they were torn apart. 

Or that’s at least what you assumed it was. 

After an agonizing few minutes the doors finally closed and the lights flickered back on making you breath in relief as you waited a moment, could you even bear to face what was waiting on the floor? You winced a little before something caught your eye. What was with all this extra wood stuck in the frame? 

Chishiya had already gotten out from under the bed and before you suddenly heard a few girls scream, your sister among them making you puff and breath as you scrambled from beneath the bed.

Standing up your mouth agape at the horrid sight of the female and the broad male that had been too focused on accusing others, they didn’t have...enough time...it looked like they had been completely mutilated, blood pouring on the floor and the smell made you want to gag as you looked away. 

“Well, now what do we do.” Akari scratched her head, also not looking phased that two people had just been brutally killed. Your eyes stayed placed on the bodies before they slowly trailed to your hands, the memory of blood staining them still fresh in your mind. 

“Well we have to figure out where the monster is?” The girlfriend of the couple spoke up, she looked around somewhat suspiciously, “But I’m not sure where we could find it? Maybe it has to do with the bracelets? Maybe there’s a clue hidden.” 

“Oh what about in the cabinets?” The collected man from before offered as he went to search the cabinets, your frown furthered as you glanced around. Everyone was now getting along, still on edge but along at least. 

Chishiya only leaned against the wall, his hands in his pocket as he rolled the lollipop in his mouth, his gaze the same steely one it was before as if he had done his job in securing his temporary salvation and was now done. 

Or maybe he just didn’t know what to do? It was obvious his strength didn’t lie in teamwork, clearly. But then again, you weren’t sure what was going on, you couldn’t get a read on him. Crossing your arms you stayed beside him, your eyes briefly washing over your sister who was working Akari to dig through a desk together. 

“Cabinets and drawers are too obvious.” 

Chishiya’s eyes flickered to your figure, his expression just as cold if not...a little smug maybe? He said nothing in return as you continued, “If we’re looking for a monster, it’s obvious it’s a metaphor for something. Inanimate most likely,” Your eyes flickered around the room, inhaling sharply, why did it feel like the answer was right in front of you? 

Think…! You glanced at the clock, only six minutes left. The rounds were really short…! “It’d be something small and inconspicuous, something that’s in plain sight….but easy to miss...and the game said it was a pair which means there’s more than likely two.” 

“Three,” You glanced at Chishiya as he spoke, pulling the lollipop from his mouth, that permanent smug look on his face as he answered, “Two is what they want you to think and if you spend a round searching for each like they hope it’s game over by three.” 

You rubbed your neck as you frowned, “It’s already the second round and we haven’t even found one…” You glanced around before you suddenly perked up, “Wait…!” Getting back down on the floor you laid on your back as you pushed yourself under the bed, “Chishiya! Help me get this thing out!” 

Within a moment the blonde appeared as well, his eye sharp and keen as they noticed straight away what you were tugging at, “You think this is the monster?” 

You looked at him as you raised a brow, “We have less than four minutes left on our second round, you have a better idea?” Chishiya said no more but helped regardless, successfully with the both of you maneuvering it around from beneath the wooden boards you managed to get it out. 

Holding it up you looked at it, “It’s a poppet doll.” You turned to face him as you smiled in accomplishment, “They’re typically used as curses to place upon people in folklore. If anything is a monster, this would be it.” 

Excited at your first victory you pulled out from beneath the bed as you waved it up, “Hey guys! We need to start looking for something similar to this! If not a replica.” Everyone huddled around you examining the doll before the microphone sounded, “One minute remaining.”

Everyone had immediately scrambled back to their hiding place as you ran to the red X, placing the poppet on it, that's the reason that had to be there right!? You’d just have to see, hurriedly you ran back to your spot under the bed. Making it just in time as the lights flickered off. 

The door slamming open once more as you slowly inhaled, it had to work right? If not...then you were at a loss for what to search for and you were utterly screwed. 

The boots stomped against the floor past the bed as you closed your eyes, unable to calm yourself. After a moment you heard a screech and something rip open before screams followed making you jump. Chishiya’s eyes were on the feet that stood by the closet that had been obviously ripped open. 

You heard the sound of something wet and a gurgle before a body slumped to the floor and you could hear begging before something got snapped in half causing you to close your eyes once more...Did you make it angry!? Was that not it? Fuck. You had never felt this stressed before as it roamed around, passing in front of your bed as you tensed.

Was this your last moment alive? Truly? 

Much to your relief, the door closed once more before the lights followed, flickering on, relaxing a little you sighed as you reluctantly got out from underneath the bed with Chishiya to see what had happened. Much to your horror it was the man who had been so kind this whole game and his partner. 

The monster didn’t check anywhere in the first round, yet he did this round? You tried to block out the bodies slumped in the corner as you glanced at the red X, the poppet doll gone. 

“Why- why were they killed!” Nanami’s eyes began to water as she grabbed her head, “This makes no sense!” 

“If it accepts the doll that means we only need two more. What happened to them is irrelevant.” Chishiya stuffed his hands back into his pocket as you glared at him sideways, not appreciating his careless tone. You could deal with it, but you didn’t want your sister dragged into it. 

Grabbing your chin you thought about it for a moment, “Well...the game said to return the monster to its own and…” You glance down at the X, was there some kind of unsaid rule that if you didn’t get all three of them on the first try that it would start hunting down players? “How would a mother feel if they only returned one of its children?” 

“This thing doesn’t have feelings,” The girlfriend of the partners replied coldly, her eyes like steel of her own as she clung to her boyfriend, “It’s as he said,” She waved to Chishiya, “It doesn’t matter, we’ll be like them if we don’t figure this out.” 

You glanced around the room, “Tell me this, if it doesn’t matter, then why did they give us all these different hiding spots?” Everyone was silent, all eyes on you as if your question didn’t make any sense, your eyes flickered to the clock that was nearing eight minutes, you didn’t have time to monologue, “No think about it. The monster never intended to look for us- that was never stated in the rules. So why did they give us all of these choices if we only needed one per pair? My point being, if we found one poppet in our hiding spot then...You get where I’m going with this? Chishiya.” 

He glanced up at you acknowledgement as you curved a brow, your lips threatening to tug into a smile as you tilted your head, “How confident are you in solving that vent?” 

He glanced back down and for the first time, you watch a cocky wide smirk twist onto his lips, “You’re lucky to have someone as smart as me here to be able to open it.” You tucked your tongue into your cheek as in annoyance as he sauntered over to the vent already getting to work, “As for everyone else, we need to open up as many of these as possible to find the other two.” 

Everyone immediately scrambled to get to work, with only seven minutes on the clock this was...going to be difficult. First Nanami and Akari searched all the opened spots as you worked on another bed. Rubbing your head as muttered, “Shit...I never was good with puzzles.” You awkwardly hung your head in defeat temporarily, briefly letting your eyes shift to Chishiya who was fiddling with several locks, his gaze sharp and you couldn’t even imagine all the calculations going on in his mind. You were somewhat envious of what it would be like to be that perceptive to anything adhering to logic and solution. 

“Aha! Found one!” Akari yanked the poppet from the top of the closest as Nanami covered her mouth, looking like she was gonna throw up being so close to so many dead bodies. You ignored the grisly sight at the second victory of the poppet doll. Akari quickly placed it on the X as you began to work on the puzzle once more, looking up at the clock. Oh no...Oh no there was only three minutes left!

“Chishiya! Hows that puzzle coming along.” You called out, trying not to sound alarmed but you could see the clear cut annoyance on his face as he continued working through the locks, “If you’d like to help while struggling on a novice lock feel free.” He replied condescendingly, not appreciating the pressure. 

You rolled your eyes with huff as you finally managed to get it undone, feeling triumphant as you searched under the bed but there was no luck, “There’s nothing here!”

“Or here!” 

Several people called out as well as you rubbed your head, standing up, “If the only other place that hasn’t been searched is the vent then maybe there’s only two? It did say a pair.” You felt a lump of anxiety well in your chest at the sight of the clock ticking close to a minute and half. 

“Should we really take the risk?” The boyfriend asked as he rubbed his neck, concern on his face as he looked around, “If we’re wrong then we’ll all…” 

You hadn’t even thought of that…

“...! Hey.” You turned to Chishiya who seemed to be trying to get your attention making you immediately come over, if he was asking for you it’d have to be for something important given there was nearly less then two minute on the clock, “Hold this right here.” He immediately pushed your hand onto the lock right where he wanted it, “This is a two handle mechanism meaning that there needs to be two people unlocking it. Push down and out at the same time.”

“Hide! Everyone needs to hide now!”

The lights were beginning to flicker as everyone scrambled to hide, stress evidently put on your shoulders now more than ever. You could only hope he was right with your life on the line, “Now!” You pushed down on your side, the lock sliding as you pulled out, pulling a piece of metal holding up the lock directly out as Chishiya did the same with his side. 

The lock fell off as well as the metal of the gate of the vent, you immediately with no hesitation leaned inside it was dark and hard to make it out anything besides the steep drop off. So he was right, this was a waste of time for a hiding place. 

Looking down you caught sight of wood before laughing in relief, “It’s here! Wait shit! Chishiya! It’s too far down in the vent, you’re gonna have to lower me down to reach it. Time?” 

“Forty five seconds.” You felt unfamiliar hands on your hips lifting you up as you were lowered down, “We have time.” 

You squinted trying to see as you reached down, “Lower me further! I’m not quite in reach,” Your muscles began to ache in your shoulder as you reached harder, growling in frustration, “Time!?” You were lowered a little further, the wooden poppet brushing against your fingers. 

“Thirty seconds! Could you go a little faster?” 

“Could you lower me a little quicker- Ah! Hey did you almost let go!?” You snarled back, grabbing the poppet doll, giving a good yank as it lodged in between the crevice it was in, “Get me back up! I got it. Time!” 

“Twenty seconds.” Chishiya called back, pulling you up as you gasped, pain from the metal jabbing into your stomach evident as you were met with a darkening room. Setting your feet firmly on the floor your eyes flew to the flock fifteen seconds and your spot was all the way across the room….! 

“Where are we supposed to hide!? We can’t get all the way there in time!” You hissed out running to the X as you dropped the poppet down. The lights shut off as the final five seconds counted down and before you could do anything you were shoved to the floor as you squeaked. Your body throbbing in pain and your mouth immediately covered as you were met with the coverage of a bed but neither one of you were bold enough to try and scramble beneath it as the doors slammed open. 

Fuck.

Your whole body was tense as your eyes squeezed shut, you were just a little ahead of the X here, if this is all the poppet dolls...they’d have no reason to go further into the room...unless...Your hand squeezed tight around the wrist of the hand that covered your mouth as you tried to calm yourself at the loud thudded footsteps. 

It was quiet for a moment before you heard more walking before the doors closed. 

“Game Cleared”

The lights turned on as you fell limp against the side of the bed, Chishiya’s hand removed from mouth as you pushed your hair from your face, closing your eyes as you breathed in relief, “Holy shit.” Was all you could mutter to yourself, you had never been more grateful to breathe air in your whole life. 

“I guess you weren’t that useless after all huh.” Chishiya clacked his tongue as you turned your head to look at him, raising your brows as your face contorted into something between insult and amusement. 

You’ve only known this man for a half an hour and yet...something about his words, if you dug down deep past that smug expression of his, was this a compliment? Looking away you pressed your tongue into your cheek, trying to keep from smiling, “Yeah, and you’re still conceited and arrogant but, I guess you have a good reason to be.” You glanced back at him again but you could hardly hold his gaze, something in that brief moment was electrified between you both as you laughed somewhat sheepishly, closing your eyes as you looked away once more. 

What the fuck was even wrong with you? If this was back before today you would’ve totally kicked this guy in the balls and went about your day.

“Y/n!” You straightened up at the sound of Nanami’s voice, your expression brightening as you stood up, quickly running to her as you hugged her tight, “I can’t believe that just happened…” She whispered to you as she pressed her face into your neck. You couldn’t either but, you were thankful you had survived this game. Whatever it was. 

“Come on, let's get out of this room.” You tugged on her arm, no longer wanting to be in this death room despite knowing it was all over. Pulling her out you paused at the sight of the TV and a...register…? You bracelet unlocked as you took it off, tossing it on the table as you tilted your head. 

“Congratulations Game ''Clear ``.''

“...Now issuing visas to those who survived the game…?” You furrowed your brows as you glanced at Nanami who rubbed her head in confusion. You grabbed the receipt as you looked it over with a frown before picking up the 5 of clubs playing card along with it. Odd. 

“It’s how many days you’re allowed to stay now! Almost a whole week, that's a good score for a first game!” Akari called out as she patted your back making you jump a little. 

Almost a whole week…”Until we have to play again to...continue our stay?” You raised a brow, deciding not to ask what happens if you refused. While you had many questions, you had a feeling you knew the answer to that one. 

A part of you couldn’t even believe this had happened, or was it all still a dream. 

“Hey…! Sorry for all of that in there,” You turned to see...oh…! It was the boyfriend of the partner, the gifrlfriend stayed behind looking brooding, “I’m Ryu and that’s my girlfriend Hiroko I was...ah…” He faltered a little, rubbing the back of his neck as his gaze flittered to his girlfriend who was glaring him down, “You should stop by the Beach- I...I think you guys would make good additions! Bye!” He hurried not even finishing his original sentence before scurrying off making you furrow your brows at what he even meant. 

“The hell?” Akari raised a brow as she watched the guy run off, “Seems to me he wanted to chat more…guess we know who's really pulling balls in that relationship.” 

Nanami suddenly snickered, covering her mouth as she giggled, “Hey Akari! Why don’t we stay together! We did really well in the game together!” 

“Awh shit, if you guys really want me too!” Akari offered a quirky smile as you laughed, you had no problems with someone staying behind with you. Looking past Akari your smile faded a little at the sight of a white hoodie exiting the entrance. 

“Hey- I’ll be right back!” You pushed past the both of them who paid you no mind as you pushed out of the exit and down the stone steps, not sure why your feet were making you chase after such an egotistical man but…!

“Chishiya!” You called out, making the man pause, he turned around, pulling the earbuds out as he glanced up from his hoodie, raising his brows in acknowledgement, “Um…” Why did you even chase after him…? You stepped down the last step as you wrapped your arms around yourself. 

It was silent for a moment as you berated yourself internally for why you seemed so speechless all of a sudden. Chishiya however didn’t seem to mind, his eyes absent now as he stared up at the hospital, “I used to do my clinical rotations here.” 

You were broken out of your silent thrashing of internal humiliation as you raised your brows, lips parting in curiosity as you asked, “You were a doctor?” 

“No,” Chishiya snorted, that amused calico look of his on his face once more as he looked down at you, “I was a medical student. Training to be a doctor but that obviously didn’t happen…” His lips curved into a frown, his eyes cold once more as they looked back up at the building, “I came here tonight to see if anyone I knew would be here.” 

“Oh…” You looked away, feeling somewhat awkward and unsure of how to reply to him as silence took over once more beside the occasional rustling of the wind in the tree’s, the urge to speak overtaking you to the point you couldn't resist, “Chishiya...I…” You looked away, feeling somewhat bashful, “We...made a really good team back there.” You forced yourself to look up at him as you offered a bright yet subtly shy smile, “If you want...you could stay with us…?” 

Chishiya pulled the lollipop stick from his mouth, letting it drop to the ground as he spoke, “No thanks.” You turned to him in surprise as you frowned a little, you shouldn’t have expected anything less…

“Oh...I understand.” You offered a weak smile as he turned his back on you and began to walk once more, “I just have one more question,” You called out causing him to pause, “...Do you by any chance know about a place called the Beach?”

Note: Whew...! As a lurker in the Alice in borderland fandom I saw a lot of people complaining about the lack of Chishiya fics so I decided to volunteer myself and take on for the team to write a series for this little blonde fucker so PLEASE let me know your thoughts and I hope you enjoy!! Also

[ayzrules]

✶ 𝐇𝐗𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒: 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 & 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒, 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 & 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍   Long story short, I have been thinking about this for wayyyyy too long now and wanted to get some ~thoughts~ & analysis written down! This post is going to be...fairly long, lol. Apologies in advance :D

  Also, if you can’t see the last gif (the one for ‘holy’), click here. Tumblr keeps fucking up the image when i try to upload it :////

  This post is probably going to be about 2/3 yorknew & phantom troupe/kurapika focused, 1/3 chimera ants, maybe with some references to other arcs (including manga-only arcs) mixed in. so, ofc, tons of spoilers ahead! also, i realize that my blog theme is hard to read (and i’m p sure clicking ‘keep reading’ sends you to the og post itself), so i’m linking the post w/ full text copy/pasted in on my art backup side blog (which has a more legible font) here. 

✶ 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇   I’m sure absolutely nobody is surprised with me starting here - there is just. SO. MUCH. DEATH. in hxh. & right from the start, one thing I noticed that togashi really emphasized was the #4 and its connection to death. in japanese, chinese, and im p sure some other asian cultures the number 4 is pronounced like the word for death so it’s associated with death in general, and boy oh boy does the ‘deadly number 4′ thing show up E V E R Y W H E R E. we get to the hunter exam, and hisoka is applicant #44. kurapika is #404. i didn’t notice it at first, but this was so intentional holy shit. togashi is NOT SUBTLE.

  So pika & hisoka are, right off the bat, associated with death. okay. and then there are even more clues to drive the point home: hisoka is member #4 in the phantom troupe, kurapika’s birthday is april 4th (aka 4/4). 100% not a coincidence (!!). with hisoka, it’s pretty obvious why togashi’s throwing all this death 444444 stuff around - dude is a psycho murder pedo clown, literally gets off on killing people (and there’s also the fact that judas sits 4th from the left in the last supper painting, and he’s sort of the judas equivalent for the phantom troupe). with kurapika, though, it’s a bit more subtle and woven deeper into his characterization, which i LOVE. togashi puts the mans in blue & gold & white (traditionally ‘pure’ or ‘heavenly’ colors), makes him so fucking kind & so good-hearted.....when he’s not relentlessly pursuing his revenge, ofc. more on this in the next section, but pika = death. togashi has made that v v v clear.

  Backtracking a bit to hisoka, though, I also just wanted to point out the 4 is death symbolism in the fortunes too (GOD i love the fortunes): in one translation, he’s the false fourth moon, and in the og japanese (i think), he’s the false hare (4th in the lunar zodiac or w/e it’s called. i don’t know the japanese cultural influences here, but in the chinese legend that established the zodiac animals, they race across the heavenly river & the top 12 animals got zodiac slots. the hare finished 4th, so it’s #4 in the cycle). 

  And just as a final note, Tserriednich is the fourth prince of the kakin empire, and also another dude who has a hard-on for murder & other gory shit. again: togashi is not subtle with this, lmfao

✶ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐘, 𝐔𝐍𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐘   As probably everyone who’s gotten to yorknew knows, togashi is so 0 fucks given when he wants to be. I mean there’s the whole thing where he just. took New York and decided, Yorknew. LMFAO, but also, he made the main antag of that arc be named chrollo lucilfer, sit around in a ruined church, have a reversed cross coat, pale & dark-haired/dark-eyed, generally dressed in dark colors, very terrible murder guy. liiiike......chrollo x devil symbolism game is 1000/10 at this point lmaooo

  And i know absolutely nothing about christianity in general, but pt/kurapika & yorknew arc is just so full of christian imagery/symbolism! one thing that i L O O O O O O V E though is how togashi really blurs the traditional christian-coded good/evil, holy/damned boundaries.

  Back to kurapika: he wears gold and blue, his coloring is very stereotypically ‘angelic’, he’s precious and good and kind. his chains are all about ~judgment~ and ~healing~ - some of the chains are also in literal cross shapes, aren’t they? And the chain dagger in his own heart...the imagery is very startlingly similar to the immaculate heart of mary, where the swords stabbing thru the heart apparently represent seven sorrows. IDK much about this stuff other than the visual similarities; literally had to google ‘daggers through heart christianity?’ to even get the name of that thing LOL. anyway, at first, it seems like togashi establishes him as the ‘angel’, the ‘good’, the ‘holy’ in the angel/devil, good/evil, holy/damned dichotomy between him and chrollo.

  But that’s not the end of the story. his entire storyline is driven by a huuuuuuuge giant desire for vengeance, first of all, and then there’s the scarlet eyes, which canonically are seen as demonic/cursed/what have you (according to one of the movies or smth? where they show pika as a 10 y/o?), and then we also have red eyes in modern culture being associated w pretty much the same thing (vampires, anyone?). the fight scene with uvo has everything in b&w besides the blood on his face & his red eyes & the moon (<<< more fortune foreshadowing & symbolism, i love to see it), and there are tonssss of scenes where he has to suppress his rage. so all of that is obviously not very angelic of him i would say LOL. in fact, what i find super interesting is that the scarlet/red eyes (which are ‘demonic’) is actually the driving factor behind his super powerful nen abilities; this ties in so well with the fortunes & death associations imo! the fortunes call him the ‘death-bringer’ in one translation, or ‘half-angel, half-death’, so that’s one side of pika = red eyes = death, but there’s also the fact that emperor time is literally draining his life force. so pika = death for both himself and others namely the pt, question mark?

  Now for chrollo: togashi’s devil symbolism is EXTREMELY overt with him, but i love the subtler jesus references too. the church thing, obviously, and the st. peters cross which is cuz st peter respected jesus too much & didn’t think he was worthy to die in the same way as him (or something like that, i am the most atheist person in the world & hxh is literally my entire christian education pls) but is also used as an anti-christianity symbol these days. bandit’s secret looks like a bible, lbr, and mans has a cross tattoo.

  Other things beyond visuals - 12 spiders, 12 apostles; hisoka’s betrayal, where member #4 can be thought to correspond to judas sitting 4th from left at last supper. and this miiiiight be a bit of a stretch, but i think the meteor city being the place of origin may also play into the blurred line between angel/devil and holy/damned here; meteors are defined as space rocks that are in earth’s atmosphere, becoming incandescent in the process. meteorites are for the kinds that actually reach the ground. and idk, lucifer was cast out of heaven / sky too right? so i think there might be some subtle fallen angel imagery/symbolism playing into the pt as well

✶ 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 (𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒)   Last section yay! i don’t have as much to say about this, besides when i was making chimera ant arc edits & realized that there might have been some subtle gon/meruem parallels???

  So obviously, everyone knows that line killua says to gon - “you are light” - and then i was just remembering that meruem’s name means.... “light that illuminates all” (!!!!). maybe it’s a coincidence, but knowing togashi, i’m leaning towards nahhhh. there HAS TO be some kinda meaning there (!!).

  Going back to the events of the chimera ant arc....ooh boy. let’s see: gon is optimistic & hopeful even in the face of kite potentially being dead, killua says he’s light, they find kite & dude is fucked up, gon is pissed. gets all angry & ~dark~, especially during the palace invasion when he’s staring pitou down as she fixes up komugi. then the actual fight against pitou: more darkness, more anger, but through it all there’s still light, namely his jajanken being very orange & fiery lookin.....and that final sequence, where he puts all his possible nen he’d ever have into his ~final form~ or wahtever & turns into a male version of true form!bisky but dressed in a crop top & short-shorts (i am SCARRED, btw. s c a r r e d !). there’s just huuuge flashes of light as that’s going on, and it reminded me of supernovas or dying stars when i was thinking about it, where the star is like, collapsing under its own weight? & burning thru its own fuel, until there’s nothing left except a dwarf or black hole or what have you. one final, extremely deadly burst of light & energy before death.

  On the meruem side of things: born into a dark cave, exhibits a traditionally evil/cruel/wicked/whatever personality/traits so that has ppl associating him with darkness. then he gets to know komugi, starts to appreciate other aspects of humanity, seems like he could have actually turned into a decent person who doesn’t want to eat everyone - so that’s a ‘path to light’, maybe? - and then the extermination team yeets themselves into the palace, netero takes him out to bumfuck nowhere, they fight. netero’s fighting is just ALL light, from his giant ass golden 100-type guanyin bodhisattva to the poor man’s rose. again, there’s the sense of finality to it all, in a similar vein to dying stars: netero comes in determined to kill meruem no matter what, and we all know netero doesn’t flake. then we see netero get destroyed after the zero hand, and he triggers the rose, and everything is burning & on fire before the flames are put out and all turns dark again.

  But wait!!! pouf & youpi revive meruem and all he does is play gungi with komugi, even with the poison of the rose. he eventually dies, and the gungi pieces in that final shot of them together (i am BAWLING just thinking about it holy shit) has one that’s all white, one that’s a black ring and white inside. i assume all white is for komugi, who has never done ANYTHING wrong in her LIFE, so i like to think that the 2nd one is for meruem - born “into darkness”, literally & figuratively, but he turns something like ‘good’ by the end. it’s interesting how togashi has sort of gone for a bit of a subversion here: the hero going from light to darkness, and the main antag from darkness to light.

✶ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍   AahhhhHHHHHhhh so if you read all the way down here through my LONG rambles, tysm! i would LOVE LOVE LOVE to hear what other people think about all this, and i’ve FOR SURE missed tons and tons of stuff - chimera ants is just. SO MUCH. and i don’t know it as well as yorknew eeek.

  I’m not sure if i’m really ~knowledgeable~ in any other areas relating to hxh, so this might be the only one of these that i do, but i definitely think about some of this - esp all the religious symbolism & #4 stuff - a ton! so in the meantime, if it’s of any interest, i’m just going to shamelessly plug my hxh x religious beliefs/superstitions edit series :D lots of love to all!!!

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

please tell me your headcannons about the silly old traditions and funny hats and gowns worn at the Assassins Guild graduation ceremonies (bonus points: Vetinari occasionally attends as a distinguished alumnus; differences for those not taking the black) Downey has to make a speech

I love this ask, thank you so much. <3 

--

Downey has added feathers to the hats because it’s Downey and he believes all hats need a nice feather. 

Vetinari: . . .I refuse. 

Downey: It’s a single, white feather. Very stylish. 

Vetinari: You can’t make these hats stylish. It’s impossible. 

Downey: That will not stop me from trying. 

-- 

First it must be said, I place most of my Discworld fashion firmly in the “anywhere from 1350-1650″ camp. Which means there’s lots of diversity but it’s all still very late medieval/early modern. This is a just-me thing though, as the books are all over the place with the fashion. There seemed to be a sense, in the early Watch books, that fashion went backwards (i.e. the more recent, to our mind, the clothes the more old fashioned they are on discworld) but that was quickly abandoned partway through the series and then it became a hodgepodge. 

I still like the early modern feel and so am keeping to it. You can pry Downey’s stupid fucking doublet with its black pearl buttons and his slouchy hat with the Florentine “I’m very gay” feather from my cold, dead hands. 

--

This got long so it’s under the cut. 

Fashion first, because this is Downey and the Assassins we’re talking about after all. 

So I imagine the hats that the professors/teaching staff wear are the slouchy ones like these. This is modeled off of hats that were in fashion when the guild first instituted formal graduation ceremonies which are relatively recent (for a given value of “recent” i.e. only circa 150/200 years ago). 

The students graduating with the Black get the slouchy hats too. The ones who didn’t take the black get the more familiar flat board graduation cap. (Students 100% balance things on top of the flat board cap. This may or may not be desired by the cap-wearer.)

The formal, ceremonial gowns, indeed the entire outfit, for the teachers are hilariously ornate because of course they are. It’s the Assassin’s Guild. 

All ceremonial gowns would be different iterations of the houppelande. 

Beneath the gown there is the Assassin’s black of the doublet with a long-ish skirt beneath the belt (knee length? perhaps floor - but then it starts hitting gown territory). The doublet is form fitting at the top, belted off with the skirt below. Naturally, there are very nice buttons. The linen undershirt is white and can be seen at the collar and wrists. Leggings/tights/hose/whatever you want to call them, also black and worn with dress shoes, not their usual working day boots. All men present wear this, including Vetinari. 

(Downey: No grey-blacks allowed on stage unless it’s representing your specialty and I know you didn’t specialize in astronomy and quantum mathmatics. 

Vetinari: 

Vetinari: But it’s My Colour. 

Downey: Put the doublet on.) 

Women on staff are also all in black, but it’s a dress over a kirtle which is over their undershirt which can be seen at the cuffs. The dress et al is also form fitting on the top with tightly buttoned (or laced) sleeves, then there’s the belt and full skirts after. Dresses are always worn with a high neckline. They too have formal dress shoes, though you can’t see them. 

The ceremonial gowns are black with coloured lining and trim. I’m thinking the sleeves are large and pinned back to show the lining which represents the general field you’re a specialist in. So, green for biology; red for literature/linguistics; white for deportment/dancing; blue for history; yellow for mathematics or whatever. The lining can be dual-colours if applicable. The trim will accent the lining but doesn’t mean anything in particular.  

The slouchy hats, however, tell you what the person specialized in with regards to their training i.e. poisons; knife work etc. 

Some gowns have that long drapey hood that is purely for aesthetics, but not all. I’m thinking if your specialty is stealth (coughHavelockcough) you get it. But, of course, as a specialist in stealth you don’t want people knowing that so no one who qualifies for a drapey hood wears it. 

Students wear simple black gowns with relatively short, deep cut sleeves so you can see more of their doublet beneath. Boys wear the usual doublet/hose combo (kind of like this) and girls the formal dress/kirtle combo (think this, but all black and with less jewels and tighter sleeves) beneath their graduation gowns. 

All gowns on students and staff alike are closed in the front - either with buttons or ties. 

Aside from the hat distinction between those who are taking the black and those who aren’t, the gowns for those taking the Black are all black and have the drapey hood. Those that aren’t taking the black have gowns trimmed with a dark colour - maybe blue? grey? something that blends but still is distinct.

--

Ceremonial Nonsense 

The graduation is held in the great hall where the students usually dine on a day-to-day basis. Parents are allowed and all families get a “plus two” for grandparents or family friends or whatever. 

There are two separate ceremonies - the first is for those taking the Black. That’s the one where Downey forces Vetinari to give a speech as he is Guild Provost and one a Distinguished Old Boy etc. 

Downey does his speech first and usually lines up those coming after him (Vetinari; Mericet; Lady T’Malia is what I have in my head. Though Mericet can usually convince Downey to sub in someone else as he is Too Old For This Shit).

For those taking the Black Downey will pepper in Fun Facts About Assassins and Helpful Pro Tips for Life (some of which are more helpful than others). Vetinari’s speech usually offers subtle rebuttals to Downey’s more outlandish life advice. Lady T’Malia’s is a universal favourite because she has the dry, disdainful wit of a person who has seen way too much nonsense in her life and has lived to continue to roll her eyes at it all. 

Mericet, when he’s made to do a speech and can’t pawn it off on one of the younger staff, is always very short. His record time was 15 seconds wherein he got to the podium, looked somberly out at his soon to be former students, and said “All I can say to you is, good luck and don’t die” then he sat down. Downey could be heard to mutter: Really?? rather loudly. 

Vetinari, more out of a desire to cause Downey some form of annoyance than anything else, will drone on for a long time and pepper in weird references only the headmaster of the guild will understand. He makes a few tiger jokes every year to which Downey, when he gets up to introduce the next speaker, will reply: “You really need to get over that”. No one knows what they’re talking about. However, the students always haaate it when Vetinari takes the podium. There is much sighing and sliding down in seats out of boredom. 

The students are called up to the stage the receive their diploma in order of their name and it’s done by house (so viper house then black widow then poison dart frog or whatever they all are). 

Weapons are expressly forbidden on all students after that One Unfortunate Incident back when Cruces was headmaster about which the least said, soonest mended. 

Back when Downey and Vetinari were graduating, when weapons were allowed, all students were given a ceremonial sword and they got to wear it when they went up to take their diploma. Students still get a ceremonial sword (or dagger, depending on preference) but they are received after the ceremony. 

The infamous ring is presented alongside the diploma. 

For those not taking the Black, it’s still the same roster of speakers but it’s usually a faster ceremony (though, that is changing over the years as the Guild is sought out more and more as a general-purpose educational institution for parents seeking a classical education for their children). 

Students in this group are also gifted a ceremonial sword but they’re allowed to wear theirs during the graduation ceremony because most can do nice, polite, gentlemanly dueling and not much else. Unlike their colleagues who can use it in increasingly diverse and experimental fashions. 

After both ceremonies are complete there is a grand dinner with students and their families and much conviviality. Under Downey’s reign as headmaster the amount of “accidental deaths” that occurred at this dinner have decreased dramatically. Mostly because unlike previous headmaster, Downey thinks it a waste of a good education to knock someone off so soon. Also, it is deplorable manners and not civil.

(Vimes, “It’s also immoral.” Downey, “I fail to see your point, commander?”) 

Wait at least a year or two until inhuming that One Guy who was A Class A Cunt During Maths. Or, if they’re really that bothersome, at least have the grace to wait until after the pudding has been served. 

--

Pre-graduation tomfoolery 

The graduating class, as a whole (well, those who survived the Run and those not taking the Black who haven’t accidentally fallen down the stairs), have two weeks between end of term and graduation and tend to run absolutely wild. 

Downey’s main rule is: no one is inhumed, his dogs are left alone and nothing is set on fire; flooded; booby-trapped; or exploded etc.* 

*see fine print for continuing list. 

It is considered a grand tradition for each house to prank their house master. One year, students cellophaned everything in Mericet’s office. Including individual pages of books. Downey thought this absolutely Delightful. Mericet said, “that’s it, I’m retiring.” Which is, coincidentally, what he says every year. 

Students will also strike up a very large game of Gotcha (i.e. Assassin) over the course of the intervening weeks between Term and Graduation. It used to be a very deadly endeavour but due to Downey’s new rule of “no inhuming until after graduation you daft kids” it’s just become a way to dunk on people. 

These are also the weeks that students clean out their rooms which is always an adventure. Many will try and discreetly sneak out their illegal pot plants and shroom logs. Those that hide them in places that aren’t their room will have minor panic attacks because Lady T’Malia and other staff enjoy rounding up the plants ahead of the students and watching the fallout. 

(Vetinari: I really should tell Vimes you have enough here to supply everyone in the city for a decade. 

Downey: Leave my drug collection alone.)

There is a lot of Lady T’Malia and others being like, “You all do know we hid our illegal shit in the exact same places, right?’ 

Students will also throw end-of-year ragers in the common room which the staff pretend to know nothing about. These tend to get very messy very quickly. Downey will show up around 3am to shut it down, though. Because some people need to sleep and aren’t 18 anymore. 

--

Anyway, that’s the long and short of my headcanon for Guild Graduation nonsense. All in all it’s a rowdy if somewhat bittersweet time. Downey secretly gets a little teary eyed over it. Aww look at his tiny little murderers going off into the big wide world. He remembers when they first arrived with knobbly knees and big eyes. His paternal side comes out in full force. 

Vetinari: it’s very good you have hundreds of students and several dogs because I don’t know what you’d do without them since you’re basically 110% a dad. 

Downey: i might have gotten married. What a horrifying concept. 

Vetinari: 

Vetinari: I have weird feelings about that which I am not going to explore in any great depth. 

--

Thank you so much for the ask! <3 <3 

[threeletterslife]

Insurrection (It’s About Time)

→ [4/7] of the Glossary Series

→ summary: If you told Park Jimin he was going to fall in love with a young cult leader, he would've laughed. But honestly, who's laughing now??

→ pairing/rating: jimin x reader | PG-15

→ genre: 90% angst, 9.9% fluff, 0.1% crack | high school!au

→ warnings: death, mentions of suicide, academic dishonesty, cult-like activities, profanity, school threats (bombs & shootings)

→ wordcount: 18.3k

→ a/n: this is a story that is near and dear to my heart. it actually kind of hurt to write because a lot of these scenes are similar to my experiences or the experiences of loved ones. i’ve had this idea for almost two years now and i finally decided to write it out. i hope you enjoy (:

Jimin is punctual. In fact, he is on another level of punctuality. At any given event, he arrives at least fifteen minutes early. For what reason? His answer would be 'just in case.' There are a plethora of events that can go wrong, a multitude of catastrophes that can erupt in his face last-minutely. Jimin's not going to take any chances jeopardizing his own future.

Especially his future in education.

Much accordingly, since he is exceedingly punctual, Jimin can not—for the love of god—stand people who dilly dally. The atrocity of them to dare to be late and waste others' time!

This is the exact reason why he absolutely despises his calculus teacher.

I sacrificed my goddamn lunchtime studying for this exam. And now he decides to be late.

Jimin's hands shake violently as he brings up his notes to his face, eyes boring into the paper filled with equations and example problems. Hands clammy and sticking to the paper, he balances himself on the balls of his feet and rocks in an attempt to try to settle his spiked nerves.

This is definitely not a good way to start off finals weeks.

Jimin has exactly an 88.3% in AP Calculus BC, and a morbid B+ will do no good in his future—at least that's what the school propaganda and his parents say. He'll have to score extremely well on this fall semester's final exam, especially because his teacher refuses to round up the grades.

Goddamn. He's really late. Late to his own final.

Jimin starts biting his nails again. At this point, there isn't much nail to bite left, but he manages to gnaw at the skin around it. It's a small habit that goes far; he does it when he's nervous, but nail-biting always does such little to do away with his gargantuan amount of stress.

In frustration, Jimin lets out a massive sigh, clutching at his chest where his lungs threatened to collapse on him. His stomach feels tight and queasy, which doesn't have much to do with the fact that he hadn't eaten. He is just anxious. Unlike the others around him.

Next to Jimin, Jeon Jungkook, his friend, casually leans against the brick wall, eyes focused on his phone screen as he mumbles nasty profanities under his breath. "That's motherfucking right, die, bitches," he mutters. Jungkook moves his body along with the avatar inside his game. He's so into it that his eyes gleam when he reigns victorious. "Ha!" he screeches, throwing up his hands. "Fuck you, you cowards! I win!"

Jungkook finally looks up from his game and meets eyes with Jimin. He grins. "Hey, bro, wanna log on too?"

Jimin's mouth hangs open with a mixture of complete surprise and utter disapproval. "We have a final this period, Jungkook. Aren't you the tiniest bit worried?"

He regrets asking that because he knows the answer he's going to get.

"No, not really," Jungkook snorts. He looks back at his phone screen and hoots. "Fuck, yeah! He's not here yet! I think I can squeeze in another game."

If Jimin's parents knew that his friend—aside from his straight A's and musical accomplishments—played video games, namely Fortnite, to pass time, they'd probably transfer Jimin to another school. A school that could be worse than this one. Which might as well be a prison.

Jimin shakes his head, harshly gripping his notes and looking away from Jungkook. Jimin doesn't want to admit it, but he's jealous. While he's stuck having a mini internal breakdown over the teacher's tardiness, Jungkook's taking the extra leisure time to play some shitty mobile game.

It's unfair. Jungkook gets his straight A's without moving so much of a goddamn muscle. While Jimin, on the other hand, has to stay up until four in the morning every other day, studying or doing homework from the moment he's awake to the time he goes to bed. He will never understand why, despite his grueling efforts, that he has a fair share of B's in his transcript.

It's a shitty, unfair system. But then again, it was set up to be unfair, anyways. Here at Welton High School, every student has taken a rigorous entrance exam, of which only the top 25% scoring students are accepted. Every student is well above average—they are students from all over the world and have probably never heard the word 'average' spoken to them in their entire lives. Until they faced Welton, of course. Now of the top 25%, only 1% can truly be special.

Jimin sometimes thinks that when he was accepted to Welton, he must've been barely at the cut off line. He speculates that he must've been in the top 24.99%, and was very lucky that he wasn't waitlisted.

He worked twice as hard from freshman year until now, junior year, to be on level with the young, walking Einsteins of Welton. But no matter how hard Jimin tries, he has never been able to outsmart the intellectuals who were born to change the world with their IQ's alone.

Competition is way too fierce.

No, Jimin thinks. Competition is deadly.

And it is. Student suicides, school shooting threats (from the students), student protests... Teenagers crack under pressure. But what can Jimin do about it? The system's shitty, yes, but he has no choice but to follow it, or else the promise of a stable future goes down the drain and into the sewer. For that exact reason, Jimin studies like there's no tomorrow every day.

Wake up. Go to school. Eat. Study. Sleep (if he's lucky). Wake up (sometimes). And do it all over again.

So fine. Jimin's jealous of Jeon Jungkook. Because he doesn't seem to put in the effort for his perfect grades. And it irks Jimin. But it shouldn't. Jungkook's his friend, so Jimin should be happy for him.

It's hard though when the person you're closest to is so far beyond your league that you begin to think yourself inferior to them.

"Sorry, class!" Jimin's calc teacher huffs as he nearly spills over his coffee while skidding to a stop in front of the classroom door. "We've lost time for the final! Get in your seats, take out a pencil, eraser and graphing calculator! Be ready in your seats so I can pass out the exams!" he orders in a frenzy.

How can you be so irresponsible? Jimin thinks, glaring daggers at the back of his teacher's head.

He's almost blinded by rage until he realizes what he's really here for: to take the test. Right. His stomach flips at the thought. Jimin shoves his notes into his backpack, wincing when he hears some of the papers ripping.

Shit, this is the moment. He's been dreading this exact time for weeks now. Each step into the familiar class makes him feel like he's walking the plank, inching closer and closer to his impending doom.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Jimin feels a migraine creeping in already. I don't know if I can do this.

Next to him, Jungkook is still playing Fortnite. Jimin doesn't know if he should spitefully tell his friend to stop or to let him continue. God, it's not fair.

Jimin's teacher is all over the place, holding his cup of coffee while also carrying dozens of test booklets in the other hand. For a split second, Jimin wishes his teacher would spill his coffee on the tests. Maybe that would delay the final. Maybe Jimin would get his first stroke of good luck in the nearly three years of high school he had already faced.

But luck is not on Jimin's side today. It never was.

The test booklets make it out in perfect condition, and Jimin's slightest bit of hope is crushed when his teacher finally sets down his coffee on his desk.

"Get your tests! Come on, pick them up!" his teacher shrills. Jimin breathes in deeply. At this point, he's just going to accept his fate. He might as well accept a B+ in this class. God, I feel faint.

"Don't write on the test," the teacher continues. "The scratch paper is up here if you need it and—"

The loud, blaring fire alarm interrupts him. It echoes deafeningly through the class, the raucous noise piercing through Jimin's ears to such an extent that he covers them with his hands. Jimin shakes in his seat, making eye contact with Jungkook.

For once in his life, Jungkook looks confused in a class setting. 'What the fuck??" he mouths aggressively to Jimin.

What the fuck, indeed.

Sometimes, the administration liked to schedule secret fire drills to get the students and staff better prepared in case of a real emergency. But really, during finals week? When students are already nerve-wracked from exam season? God, they had no shame for fuck's sake.

Jimin's teacher sighs, running his fingers through his head of unkempt hair. "All sorts of things happening today," he mutters to himself. "Must be a mistake," he declares with an affirmative nod of the head. "Class, as I was saying before—"

"Holy fuck, the other classes are evacuating!" Jungkook shrieks, pointing out the classroom window. Sure enough, teachers are already herding their students outside to the evacuation areas on the soccer fields. "I don't think this is a dr—"

Before Jungkook finishes his sentence and the teacher disciplines him for his explicit choice of language, the intercom buzzes, momentarily halting the horrendous fire alarm. Everyone freezes and it goes completely silent. So silent that Jimin can hear his own heartbeat.

A loud crackle and another buzz ring from the intercom, then the principal begins to speak in a hurried voice: "This is not a drill. Please proceed to evacuate out of the buildings. Thank you."

The moment he finishes, the intercom crackles again and the fire alarm carries on.

Jimin's anxiety flies to the roof. Not a drill? What could've possibly happened?

His teacher looks almost as—or even more—shaken as Jimin and he yells panicked directions to the students. "I'll be the last one out! Meet me at our safety corner on the field!"

Jimin quickly finds Jungkook and the two of them walk side by side out of the building. As soon as Jimin can see the sky, he looks up instinctively to check for smoke. But there is none. In fact, the sky looks clearer than normal today.

"Do you even think there's a fire?" Jimin asks his friend. He almost lets out a scoff of disbelief when he sees Jungkook playing his mobile game again.

"No idea," Jungkook replies nonchalantly, jabbing at his screen with his thumb. "Don't think it's anything serious. Probably just a small fire in chem class. Nothing to worry about."

Jimin's still uneasy. "You don't think anyone's hurt, do you?"

At that, Jungkook hums, his forehead creasing slightly as he finally shuts off his phone and pockets it. "There's no ambulance," he points out. Jungkook turns to Jimin fully, grinning at him to Jimin's shock. "Loosen up, Jimin. This is junior year. We might have a chance at canceled finals because of this real evacuation! Now isn't that nice?"

"I guess..." Jimin mumbles. But I need the final to raise my grade...

It's strange to see his peers smiling and laughing as they walk side by side with their friends. It's almost as if the fire alarm isn't threateningly blaring in the background. Do none of them care that this could be a serious matter??

"By the looks of it, we're definitely going to skip the calc final today!" Jungkook shouts victoriously, pumping his fist in the air. "No more fucking math!"

"True..." Jimin admits nervously. "But he might have to take the final after school..." He's almost too embarrassed to say that he needs this final to raise his grade.

Jungkook snorts. "Welton's not allowed to keep us after school with such short notice," he says. "If things go right, we might not have finals for the rest of the day."

When Jungkook puts it that way, the thought sounds heavenly.

"Yo! Bros!" a familiar voice calls, breaking Jimin from his reverie. "Y'all okay? We could've literally died!"

It's Taehyung, Jimin's other friend. The only guy in the whole school who's unafraid to use the word 'y'all' and be judged for it.

"Man, I heard the girl's locker room caught on fire!" Taehyung announces.

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow. "Unless you were in there, how would you know?" he teases.

Jimin laughs as Taehyung huffs disapprovingly. "Some girls told me. I would never sneak in there," he pouts, crossing his arms.

"Really?" Jimin says. "How would the fire have started in there, though?"

"Oh, you'd be surprised to see what goes down in the girl's locker room," Jungkook says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"What went down so hard to cause a fire??" Jimin asks.

"Nah, don't believe him, Minnie," Taehyung laughs. "Jungkook probably sneaks in there from time to time to be a little perv."

Jungkook shrugs, unfazed by the accusation. He even plays along with it. "Well, I need something interesting to do in my high school career."

At that, Jimin and Taehyung shoot each other a look. Them and a majority of the students at Welton don't have enough hours in the day to study, let alone to seek for 'something interesting to do' in their high school careers. It's so like Jeon Jungkook, the genius, to say shit like this.

"Whatever, y'all," Taehyung says. "I don't even care what happened. We're still alive, you know? I'm just glad I'm missing out on that stupid physics final."

"Lucky," Jimin says. "I'm supposed to take that shit tomorrow."

"Uh, yeah, if there even is a tomorrow," Jungkook says, scrolling through his phone. Jimin thinks he's playing some mobile game again, but he soon realizes he's reading something. "It's not a fire in the girl's locker room after all..."

The three boys immediately stop walking, Taehyung and Jimin looking over Jungkook's shoulder to read what was on his screen. It's an email sent from the principal to all attending students and their guardians:

Dear Welton Community,

Today at approximately 12:48 pm, an unidentified caller phoned in a bomb threat to Welton High School. The caller stated seven pipe bombs had been planted on campus and were going to detonate in 25 minutes. The Police Department was called and immediately responded. Along with them, the School Administration decided to evacuate all buildings and bomb-sniffing dogs were called to search the entire school. When they have completed their search, I will send out another message to our community with the all-clear.

Thank you.

Bombs. Bombs?!?! Jimin panics again. Actual bombs! Seven pipe bombs could do serious damage—maybe even decimate half of the population of Welton High. What if they go off? Will this really be the end?

"Well, that explains the excessive amount of helicopters flying above us," Jungkook says, shrugging.

Before Jimin can shoot his friend a look of utter incredulity, he hears the sharp voice of his calc teacher. "Jimin! Jungkook! What are you doing out of line? I'm taking roll!"

"The Grinch is calling," Jungkook snickers. "We'll see you later," he tells Taehyung who salutes the two of you.

"See you guys," Taehyung says before sauntering off to his physics class.

"Text us!" Jimin calls.

Taehyung doesn't turn around but gives two big thumbs up indicating that he had heard Jimin.

Quickly, Jimin and Jungkook get in line while their dratted teacher takes roll. Once they see that their teacher isn't eagle-eyeing them, they slip out their phones, opening their group chat with Taehyung. It looks like Taehyung had already sent them multiple texts. All cries of pity.

Group: dead men + kook

[half-dead cowboy]: y'alls

[half-dead cowboy]: literally save me

[half-dead cowboy]: idk anyone in this class

[half-dead cowboy]: keep me entertained

[half-dead cowboy]: don't leave me hanging

[half-dead cowboy]: guyds

[half-dead cowboy]: guys*

[nO yOu]: serves u right for deciding to take physics ii lmfaoo

[half-dead cowboy]: shut up kook

[half-dead cowboy]: where's my boi minnie when i need him

[lil dead man]: Shit Tae I keep forgetting to tell you not to call me that

[half-dead cowboy]: you know why?

[half-dead cowboy]: because you not-so-secretly lobr it

[half-dead cowboy]: ugh

[half-dead cowboy]: love*

[nO yOu]: how did u even get in welton tae lmfao u can't even spell

[half-dead cowboy]: no

[half-dead cowboy]: i can SPELL i can't TYPE

[half-dead cowboy]: there's a difference you jerky

[half-dead cowboy]: ARE YOU KIDDING ME

[half-dead cowboy]: jerk********

[lil dead man]: AHAHAHAHAHAHAH

[nO yOu]: i feel quite honored to b called a jerky

[half-dead cowboy]: stfu

[nO yOu]: no for real bro

[nO yOu]: thank you

[lil dead man]: Back at it again with the sarcasm Kook

[lil dead man]: Anyways what's the girl's locker room like ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

[half-dead cowboy]: not the lenny face

[half-dead cowboy]: please no

[nO yOu]: nO yOu

[lil dead man]: How long have you been waiting to say that

[nO yOu]: months

[nO yOu]: thanks for noticing. u my man

[nO yOu]: also if tae won't say anything bout the girl's locker room i will

[lil dead man]: What the fuck bro I thought you were joking when you say you knew the shit that went down????

[nO yOu]: lmfao i'm still jokin chillax minnie

[half-dead cowboy]: i hate you guys :((((((

[nO yOu]: damn that frowny face has 6 chins holy mothatruckafucka

[half-dead cowboy]: :(

[lil dead man]: That's more like it!!

[half-dead cowboy]: hold up hold up

[half-dead cowboy]: oh shoot y'all hearing this?

[nO yOu]: no?? we're texting? wE hAvE nO vOicE

[half-dead cowboy]: no you illiterate f*cks they just cleared the school the bomb threat as phony

[lil dead man]: Whew

[lil dead man]: I'm happy I won't blow up into smithereens but also pissed off as fuck that we'll have to live to take finals??

[nO yOu]: agreed, minnie

[nO yOu]: k but more importantly

[nO yOu]: tae did you just censor out a fucking cuss word

[half-dead cowboy]: i'm trying not to cuss as much anymore if you haven't noticed. but y'all make it f*cking hard. f*ck

[lil dead man]: We'Re sOrRy wE'Re bAd iNflUenCe

[half-dead cowboy]: :(((((((((((((((

[nO yOu]: 15 chins lets git itttt

[half-dead cowboy]: F*CK Y'ALL

It feels strange. The shortened school day had been so eventful... but also uneventful? Sure, there was a bomb threat, but it had been fake. Jimin thought a full-on Hollywood action scene would've commenced after the bombs detonated, but the bombs were never there in the first place. There weren't any finals either. All of them had been rescheduled to take next week, which was good news for most students.

It wasn't just good news, too. It was great news. Superb news. The best news students have gotten since they began attending Welton High School. Now, students are thanking the bomb threat for its rather impeccable timing. Some are even pissed that it hadn't happened earlier (so more finals could have been missed).

"We need to celebrate this once in a lifetime opportunity!" Taehyung announces as soon as the three boys are reunited. "It's not every day that a bomb threat cancels your finals!"

"We deserve a break, anyways," Jimin says. "I'm down. Kook?"

"Mm..." Jungkook makes an unintelligible sound at the back of his throat as he pauses his video game with the tap of his finger. "Sorry guys. Can't. Have to go somewhere."

"You?" Taehyung gasps dramatically. "Have plans?"

"And without us?" Jimin says, feigning a hurt expression. "Are you ditching us?"

Jungkook rolls his eyes. "No. I'm just... busy."

"Ha! Busy," Taehyung snorts. "Yeah, busy with that little sophomore girl you've been—cough—seeing."

"What the fuck," Jungkook scoffs. "How do you know about that?"

Taehyung opts not to answer the question, instead, he giggles. "It's a date, isn't it?" he sings.

Jungkook puffs out his cheeks in annoyance. "Fine," he says, slipping his phone inside his back pocket. "It's a date."

"Oh, we are so following you," Taehyung says.

"Don't you dar—"

"No, we're following you," Jimin grins.

"No, I swear to fucking g—"

Jimin and Taehyung are following Jungkook. The boy's surprisingly agile as he zig-zags around stumpy trees, tall bushes and overflowing trash cans. Sometimes, he quickly looks behind him as if to see if someone was trailing his back. Every time, Jimin's heart sinks with the fear of being caught, but Taehyung seems to love the thrill of the adrenaline rush.

At this rate, Jimin feels like an outlaw. But he's only just chasing his rather suspicious-looking friend. Or maybe he really wanted his relationship with the sophomore girl as a secret?

Or maybe there was no sophomore girl in the picture at all. Jimin's not too sure.

"It's as if he doesn't want anyone to know he's dating a teeny weeny 10th grader," Taehyung whispers, a mischievous grin stuck on his lips.

Yeah. If the girl exists. But Jimin doesn't say that. "I wonder who she is," he whispers back. "I mean, who on earth is worthy of dating our Kook?"

"My expectations for this girl are high," Taehyung snorts. "She better be the most intelligent girl I've ever—wait, what the fucK??"

The latter is more of a reaction. Taehyung grabs Jimin's arm, pulling him to take refuge behind a particularly bushy bush. He points at a rather unsettling scene unfolding before them.

Through the leaves of the shrub, Jimin can make out Jungkook, all right. There's also a girl—who might be a sophomore, standing confidently on a tree stump. Jimin doesn't even know if you go to Welton. But what makes the whole situation peculiar is that there are others—including Jungkook—gathered in this little half-forest clearing. And they're gathered around the tree stump in which the girl is standing on.

Jimin tries to make a rough estimate of the number of people—seemingly students because they're all wearing backpacks— in his head. Twelve? Maybe fifteen students? He's confused, furrowing his brows as he squints at them through the bush. "What's this shit for?" he whispers to Taehyung who looks equally confused.

"No idea," Taehyung mutters. "Looks like a cult," he snorts. "But it could be a stupid Fortnite club for all I know."

"I doubt that a club would meet at such a sketchy place," Jimin murmurs to himself.

There is something definitely fishy going on here...

Jungkook blends in way too easily in the crowd of supposed students. The only person that stands out is the girl. The one on the tree stump. She stands casually, favoring her left leg. She's petite, but her posture and stance emit an aura of valiance and authority. Her eyes seem to sparkle with determination and her lips are curled up in a happy smile. A... victorious smile.

"That's her!" Taehyung whispers aggressively. "The girl I've seen our Kook with! The little sophomore!"

Ah... She's a sophomore... Jimin nods, cocking his head as his eyes scan the group of students to see if he recognized anyone other than Jungkook. He sees a few seniors (that he can't quite remember the name of) and finds it weird that they're huddled below the sophomore girl as if waiting for her command.

Whoever she is, she's the leader. The president, maybe? Of whatever club this was? If it even was a club, that is.

Jimin's thoughts are proven when the girl clasps her hands together, taking a deep breath before bellowing out a "Thank you for coming!" She offers a friendly wave to everyone looking up to her (literally) in awe.

Jimin has never seen the genius himself, Jeon Jungkook, respecting an underclassman before. Even the seniors in the crowd look at the girl approvingly. As if she were a queen and not just the president of a small club.

The girl speaks again in her light, lilted voice, turning to a lanky boy with unkempt blonde hair covering his eyes. "Yoongs! Attendance, please?"

"Perfect attendance, Y/N!" the boy deemed as Yoongs reports back to the girl. He winks. And she—Y/N—blushes.

Jimin frowns. What was going on???

You giggle, looking fondly at Yoongs before returning your attention to the rest of the crowd. "So, our experiment worked as expected," you say, shrugging rather casually. "I did feel bad for wasting people's time..." you trail off, unsure.

Experiment? Jimin feels chills run down his spine when he realizes you probably mean the bomb threat.

"It was worth it, babe!" Yoongs calls from the group.

You smile. "It's always worth it," you reply. "I'll make today's meeting short for those of you working on college apps and the others of you participating in competitions."

You're so casual in the way you speak—as if the people you were looking over were your friends. But you're also entrancing. As if everyone else has to be silent to hear what great words you have to say. And apparently, you have a lot on your mind to share.

"As I always say," you start, "never waste your time on your grades. They don't define you. Nor will they shed a light on the person you are inside. Nevertheless, everyone here should have straight A's..." you smile, looking over at Yoongs. "A round of applause for Yoongi's excellent coding skills for which we would've never been able to pull this off without them!"

The crowd erupts in enthusiastic applause, leaving Yoongi beaming from his proud accomplishments.

You wait for the crowd to simmer down before speaking again. "We tricked and cheated the system," you admit. "You might have doubts about that. Morality and integrity may play into your thoughts. But," you take a dramatic pause, "how moral are grades, really? They're tools for adults, which is as far as it goes. Teachers corrupt the system, watch silently as all hell breaks loose from the intense student competition... They make it a game. They know you'll do anything to get the letter grade you want," you take a painful breath. "We're only fighting against something that is as equally as or more morally ambiguous. The world cares about you as a human. They won't care about a robot that spits out impeccable grades but has no soul, no passion, no life. They want you at your best—what you can do that will benefit others. We don't need to take part in something as trivial as our high school grades, do we?" you smile as the students around you cheer.

"Of course... college is a different story. Depending on the college you go, that is..." you trail off. "When you start to learn about things that you have a genuine interest in, that's when grades might matter. But for now, struggling this hard on obscure subjects that you'll never touch again after graduating from Welton? I say it's a good thing we're cheating the system. How great was the system anyway to have contributed to three student suicides in the last two years?"

There's a collective murmur as students nod their heads.

"A moment of silence for Heegyung, Bonsoo and Chaewoon, please," you say, voice barely above a whisper but everyone hears what you say and they all bow their heads down to obey. You, yourself, close your eyes. Your face is etched with pain and actual remorse, which makes Jimin feel a little guilty he wasn't truly mourning the students' deaths.

After a few minutes pass, you clear your throat, blinking your eyes open and waiting for the other students to look up at you again. "Ah, yes," you say. "Thank you for the short mourning period we were able to squeeze into this meeting... But now to get to the purpose of this gathering," you pause for a split second before continuing again. "The finals you will have to take next week shouldn't be as stressful as other school days. Apply our methods and you'll be fine. If you need extra help, text me as soon as possible." You pause again, but this time, it wasn't to gather your thoughts, it was to shift the mood of your speech. A bright grin settles on your face.

"Now, for the moment we've all been waiting for!" you exclaim. "Let's give a special round of applause for Jeon Jungkook and Min Yoongi for their collaboration on this excellent evacuation plan!"

The crowd does more than applaud. Students whoop, yell and chant their names. But Jimin's not in a celebratory mood.

Jungkook did what?? Jimin shoots Taehyung a panicked look. It was one thing to realize that this group of students probably somehow organized the bomb threat, but it was another thing to realize that Jungkook was a large part of it.

"It was extremely difficult to create an automated call that couldn't be traced—" you begin.

"Eh, it wasn't that bad," Yoongi shrugs nonchalantly. "Child's play."

You laugh, eyes twinkling as your turn to Yoongi. "Well, thank you," you say. "Ah, and as for Jungkook, thank you for volunteering to use your voice to record the bomb threat. It must've been so nerve-wracking."

Jungkook snorts, shaking his head. "All I really did was speak into a mic. And we totally distorted my voice. Severely fucked up the frequencies and all that."

Jimin's blood runs cold. He looks over at Taehyung with his eyes wide. His friend isn't faring any better with his jaw clenched and fists tightened.

"It took an immense amount of courage to sacrifice your voice for an experiment like this," you say, smiling down at the older boy. "Oh, yeah! How's your album going, by the way?"

Jungkook beams. "It's going great!" he says happily. "I've been having so much fuckin' time to work on it that the whole process has just been insanely smooth."

"Love that!" you say. "Productivity at its finest, right?"

Everyone nods eagerly.

"Well!" you sigh, placing both of your hands on your hips. "The meeting's officially over, now! Please text me your work progresses, guys. They're due before midnight. Thank you so much for coming!"

"Thank you for hosting it, babe!" Yoongi says, rushing over to help you off of the tree stump by offering his hand. You take it gladly, stepping back on the dirt ground.

You start waving at the students who begin to file out of the meeting place. When Jimin sees them start to move towards him and Taehyung, he grabs his friend's arm. "Shit, Tae, we've got to—"

"Hey, Jungkook?" you call. The boy turns around, looking at you expectantly. "Can you please tell your two friends that hiding behind a bush is quite ineffective?" You giggle when Jimin falls to the ground in shock. "Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung, was it?"

Jimin's in shell-shock, unable to move or dust off his pants. How the fuck did you—

"You can come out of hiding, you know," you reassure them with such a honey-like quality to your voice that it's almost impossible to resist. "We don't really bite," you giggle. "But... I mean, Yoongi might," you tease, earning a flirtatious shove from the boy.

At your invitation to quit hiding, Taehyung jumps out from behind the bush, dragging Jimin along with him. "Who the fuck are you and how do you know our names?!" Taehyung roars.

Guess he already gave up his no-cussing streak, Jimin sighs. But he's also glad that he's not the one who has to stand up for both of them.

"Don't be so rude, you ass," Jungkook scoffs. "Motherfucking stalkers. I told you not to follow me."

Stalkers?? We were just looking out for you! Jimin thinks. "We're sorry, Kook," he manages to say. "But you lied to us! And more importantly, you obviously haven't been telling us things."

Jimin's frankly hurt by his friend's lack of honesty, but it seems so that Taehyung is more vocal about it.

"Yeah, Jeon Jungkook, what the fuck?" Taehyung yells. "You're a cheater!" he accuses Jungkook, stepping closer and poking at his chest harshly with his pointer finger. "You're a fake! You're a bomb threatener!!"

"Wait a minute!" you cut in. "Let's not get into accusations like that so early. Jimin, Taehyung, I—"

"How do you know our fucking names?!" Taehyung screams. "We don't even know who you are, you cheater!!"

"Watch it," Yoongi says dangerously. He tries to take a step forward, but you stop him, placing a hand on his arm.

"I'm Y/N," you say. "We're all students of Welton, so there's no reason for the animosity. Besides, I memorized the yearbook." You shrug, but you gesture apologetically to Jimin and Taehyung. "I'm very sorry, but I didn't invite you two to join our little group for a major reason. Of course..." you trail off. "Now you have to join... For safety reasons."

"Little group?" Taehyung snorts. "Where did the specificity go?"

"Hmm," you hum. "What do you think about a school revolt?"

Jimin does not like the idea of a school revolt at all. It sounds stupid. Students would never be able to pull it off. Even Taehyung, who's usually more open-minded than Jimin, seems skeptical.

You ask Jimin and Taehyung to meet up in Panera, later that day with Jungkook, to discuss the specifics. By the time Jimin and Taehyung get there, you and Jungkook have already saved a corner spot in the cafe.

Jungkook's eating pieces of sourdough bread while you sip your frozen lemonade. It looks to Jimin and you and Jungkook are getting along as both of you gesture wildly as you speak. You even let out a large laugh after Jungkook says something funny.

Jimin feels weird interrupting the already happy conversation, but Taehyung seems to have no problem. Taehyung slides into the seat next to Jungkook, leaving Jimin to sit with you.  Jimin suddenly feels very self-conscious about himself.

"Glad you two could make it!" you chirp, setting down your frozen lemonade. "Want anything to eat or drink? They have hibiscus lemonade here and it's literally amazing!"

"I'd rather you cut to the chase," Taehyung says, frowning as he folds his arms.

Jimin agrees with a short nod.

"Oh," you say, "sure!"

"You said something about a school revolt," Taehyung says. "Explain."

"God, would it kill you to say please?" Jungkook rolls his eyes. "She's doing you guys a fucking favor. Man, if Yoongi was here, he'd whoop your asses."

"It's fine, Jungkook," you say. "I get how confusing this can be... Our little group has one goal," you start. "I want to help struggling students. You know what Welton is... Ruthless competition. Kids cramming without actually understanding the material. Rote memorization... Wasting time by doing four pages worth of math homework every night... Way too specific reading quizzes that have nothing to do with the storyline of the novels..."

The more you talk, the more Jimin begins to relate.

"It's horrible," you sigh. "That they're making us become a servant to the school. They use the students to boost the credibility of the teachers. They thrive off of our hard work, you know."

"They're bitches," Jungkook snorts. "Never really care for us. Remember Chaewoon? He told his counselor about his suicidal thoughts and she didn't do shit. He might still be alive with us if the counselor cared."

You nod. "Yes, our mental support system at this school amongst the grown-ups is preposterous," you say. "There are too many problems with Welton. And I reach out to deserving students to offer them a solution."

"A solution?" Jimin mutters.

You turn to him, nodding politely. "Yes! A solution. Students have dreams, Jimin. Taehyung, don't you ever wish you could be putting in your time somewhere else instead of studying for a subject you don't care about?"

Taehyung nods. "Who doesn't wish that around here?"

"Exactly," you say. "I'm offering you, Tae, and Jimin a great chance to follow your dreams. High school is when you feel the spark growing inside you. The spark is an extracurricular or a hobby of some sort that you've always loved with your whole heart. You probably had to sacrifice a lot to join Welton's elite debate team, right Taehyung?"

"Never even liked debate that much," he answers. "I had to quit theater for that shit."

"And you couldn't do both because...?" you say.

"Because the debate coach told me theater would interfere with the debate practice schedules," Taehyung says. "And he said that debate is much more intellectual than theater. He said that I won't be able to balance my studies with both debate and theater."

"Exactly," you say. "It's utter bs, don't you think? Why do we have to sacrifice our hobbies, our passionate dreams to do what some adult tells us to do? You do realize that they put down the arts because they want their smartest students participating in their intellectual or STEM-related activities? The more intelligent students that are in these activities, the higher the school rating skyrockets. It's purely selfish reasons."

"That is utter bullshit," Taehyung scoffs. "You're right. That is pretty fucking selfish."

"Right," you say. "I want to teach you, Tae," you say, looking the boy dead in his eyes. "I'll take care of your grades. I'll teach you the best ways to get away with outsmarting the teacher. I'll plan class distractions—like today—and if things still don't go well, my boyfriend—you met Yoongi today, right?—can make a last-ditch effort to hack into the grades system and work his magic. You'll have extra time to do theater—at school and at other professional intern sites. How does that sound?"

"Fuck," Taehyung curses. "That sounds fucking great when you put it that way."

Jimin's not so sure. "What if someone snitches?"

You laugh. "Oh, they wouldn't," you say. "I have eyes and ears everywhere."

"She does," Jungkook says. "There's no one she doesn't know. C'mon she's the first sophomore Editor-in-Chief of the school newspaper. You'll be safe if you join."

"You're juniors as well," you say. "There's a lot of pressure to do perfectly in school now. And you'll be in college before you know it. I reckon that you want to know your ride-or-die interest before you attend university."

Jimin looks down at his hands. This is wrong, he tells himself. But it'll do so much good. Not moral good, of course. But still.

Taehyung already seems sold on the idea, a fast grin spreading across his face as he nods his head enthusiastically.

You notice Jimin's skeptical look. "Hey, I'm gonna run to the bathroom," you say. Jimin gets out of the seat to let you through, and as soon as you're out of sight, he collapses on the seat and groans.

"Great, she's fucking gone," Jimin says. "Tae, you can't possibly think this is a good idea."

"What do you mean? It's a fucking fantastic idea!" Taehyung says. "Dude, don't you understand? I'll get to do what I love without sacrificing my grades! Once in a lifetime opportunity, bro."

Jungkook snorts. "Yeah, well, I have my music and you have your acting shit, Taehyung, but Jimin doesn't know anything other than the pages of a stupid fucking textbook."

It hurts because it's brutally true. Jimin bites his lip and shakes his head.

"Fifteen people is awfully small for a cult," Jimin grumbles.

"It is not a cult," Jungkook argues, crossing his arms over his chest. "And no one knows how many students are actually involved except for Y/N. She figured it'll be safer that way."

"Bro, I'm in," Taehyung says. "I was in like seven minutes ago."

"Good choice, man," Jungkook says, slapping Taehyung's back approvingly. "And honestly? Jimin? You don't exactly have a choice. You have to join."

Jimin scoffs. "Why?"

"Because you know this group exists and it's likely you'd snitch on us if you don't get anything out of it," Jungkook says, raising an eyebrow at his friend. "Y/N's being really generous with you right now. You're basically going to freeload."

"Freeload?" Jimin says, glaring at the man with intense ferocity. "I didn't ask for any of this!"

"Hey, it's okay!" Taehyung says. "You can just find some hobby or something. So you're still following protocol."

"Um, easier said than done," Jimin mutters.

It's silent after that as Jimin sulks in his seat and Jungkook and Taehyung awkwardly watch him do so. You come back from the "bathroom" (you were gone for much longer, so Jimin suspects you were just giving them time to discuss) only to see the three boys sitting in complete silence.

You cock your head. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah, yeah!" Taehyung says. "It's final. Jimin and I are joining!"

"Great!" you say, smiling as you clasp your hands together. "Oh, you'll have to get started on your theater process right away," you tell Taehyung. "And Jimin, it's fine that you don't know what you like now. You can hang tight until you find something, all right?"

Jimin lets out a grumbling, "Yeah, sure."

"It's set, then!" you say, sipping your not-so-frozen lemonade drink. "Thank you, Jungkook. I owe you."

"No, it's fine, really," Jungkook laughs, shaking his head. "Just doing my job."

You smile at him fondly before turning to Jimin and Taehyung. "I'll text you the details pertaining to each of you, okay?" You glance down at your watch and gasp. "Oh, shoot, I'm late for my date! Um, I'll see you three at our next meeting? Or at school. Bye, guys!!" With that, you grab your drink and practically fly out of Panera, never looking back once.

Jimin and Taehyung are a bit dumbfounded.

"I gotta go work on producing my album," Jungkook says. "See you guys, too?"

"Yeah, duh," Taehyung grins as Jungkook slides out of the seat. "You basically saved our lives."

Jungkook snorts. "Sorry I didn't say anything about it earlier, by the way," he says. "We're not allowed to talk about it to anyone. Mostly because we don't really know who's involved."

"Nah, it's fine, man," Taehyung says, shaking his head. "At least we know now, right?"

Jimin stays quiet.

"Well, see you," Jungkook sighs as he glances at Jimin but doesn't say anything further. He leaves quickly.

"God, Jimin, he's your friend," Taehyung says as soon as Jungkook turns a corner and is no longer in view. "You shouldn't be that cold."

"Oh, really?" Jimin says. "He was living lavishly all this time and didn't bother saying anything!"

"He just said he didn't have a choice, Jimin!"

"God!" Jimin says, running his hand through his hair. "Now how are we any different from the motherfucking cheaters out there?"

Taehyung frowns. "I don't mind cheating. Y/N didn't even call it cheating. She called it 'outsmarting the teachers.' And besides, we have a reason for it too."

Jimin shrugs. "Yeah, whatever..."

"You'll come around," Taehyung smiles, shaking his head. "But what the heck do you think Jungkook meant by saying no one knows who's in the group??"

"No idea."

But it soon becomes quite obvious when Jungkook escorts Jimin and Taehyung to their first official meeting. Jimin and Taehyung gape as they realize no one they saw last time was here. You must hold several of the same meetings. All with different people.

Now it's for sure that nobody knows how many people are in the goddamn cult except for you. It dawns on Jimin that he's getting himself into something much, much larger than he had previously believed.

You've created quite an advanced system. So advanced that it took Jimin a while to get used to. It was a cheating plot so elaborate and well-planned that it almost didn't feel like cheating. Instead, it was like embarking on an evil heist in the adult world.

You had a master plan behind every single class in Welton. Jungkook said you harbored hundreds of paper documents (not digital, or they could be hacked) that had information about every teacher, every subject in the school. From there, you would investigate each subject and find the students who were genuinely interested in pursuing it in the future—the experts. Those students would then be in charge of making and organizing all of the class lecture notes; it would be their responsibility to fully learn the material and redistribute it to the other students who, more or less, didn't give two fucks about the class.

Homework was rotated amongst the "expert" students, and they'd send the other students the answers. (But, of course, there were always different versions of the homework so teachers would never suspect.)

Tests weren't a problem either. Somehow, you'd get a copy of every test or quiz before the exam date and distribute it to the experts. In a day's time, the rest of the students would obtain the answers (and work, if it was a math-based test). But to ensure that not everyone got the same exact score, you'd implemented quite a simple but complex system.

Test grades were higher for experts (especially experts who were able to make large progress on their personal projects). From there, the non-expert students were given scores solely based on how well they have updated their progress to you, and how much they have advanced in their extracurriculars.

The hardest questions on every exam were hand-picked by the experts themselves. And only the experts were allowed to answer the question correctly.

Essays were different. Not everyone read the given book, but the experts would always be ready for all kinds of topics—the holy grail was definitely the database of all past Welton essays that you handled yourself.

In that way, you had every single class in the whole school covered for the students in your group. (Which was ultimately a huge bummer for the students who had no idea of the behind-the-scenes 'outsmarting' that was going on.)

Jimin thinks the system is good. Could be better, but it works.

He's just pissed that he never has any progress to report back to you, so he always ends up scoring a high B on exams. It happens to be a pretty good deal, though, factoring in the fact that he didn't study for them. Scoring B+'s on exams was enough to keep his grades at an A.

But sometimes, it just feels wrong. Especially on his physics tests (where the class average is 60%, but he ends up with a raw score of 88% without having to put in the minimal effort). No matter how many times you call the action 'outsmarting the teachers,' Jimin thinks he's just plain cheating.

He's been wanting to report it for a while... Just because the little angel sitting by his shoulder is telling him that this is unfair to all the other students who were truly trying but weren't even getting close to the scores that Jimin was getting just by copying others' answers. Jimin remembers when he had been in that unfortunate position. When he'd watched students do suspiciously well on certain subjects while having time to do other activities, while he, himself, had to study for eight hours straight to get a C on the test.

But Jimin's not part of that unfortunate group of students. He's now pretty damn fortunate.

And he can't stay fortunate if he reports the cheating. Jimin's desperate. He's desperate to obtain decent grades without spilling countless tears and studying from early morning to the next morning after. It's the only reason that he hasn't reported your little group yet.

Besides, Taehyung is seemingly adapting better to this non-student-like lifestyle. He's already joined two theater productions and is applying to work as extras in films and such. And Jungkook's been continuing to work on his album too.

Jimin's friends seem to love being a part of the group.

Maybe Jimin's just salty because he hasn't found his passion yet. Though he doesn't know everyone in your little school cult, it seems like everyone involved in it has a passion, a dream they want to reach for, except for him.

A part of him wants to find a hobby just to say he has one when someone asks. But another, larger, part of him wants a hobby because of greed. Finding a passion and pursuing it meant Jimin would get a higher chance of getting better test grades for texting you about his progress. But Jimin can't just latch on to any existing hobby... He needs some advice.

Well, you'd told him that he should come to you if he needed advice... It's weird to think that he, a junior, has to ask advice from a sophomore. But maybe he's that desperate.

You're usually in your own little private newspaper office (as the Editor-in-Chief). So Jimin decides to give you a visit. But when he walks into the room after school, he sees you comforting a crying girl. Whether she's part of the cult is unclear, but Jimin immediately discerns her as one of those band girls—with frizzy hair, leggings and a boxy t-shirt. The girl's crying so hysterically that Jimin feels uncomfortable intruding. He leaves without another look.

Crying girls are not a good sign; he'll just come back tomorrow.

When tomorrow comes and Jimin walks into your private newspaper room, there is no crying girl to his relief. You're on your computer, probably reading or editing some student-written articles. Jimin feels awkward disrupting you being so focused on your work, but the longer time he spends just waiting for you to finish, the more time he wastes.

So: "Um, hi... Uh, Y/N?" Jimin says. He grabs a chair and pulls it up next to you.

"Oh! Jimin!" you greet him, turning from your computer to face the boy in front of you.

"I came yesterday," Jimin says, shrugging, "but you were busy with someone else... I came back today."

"Ah, you mean Chunseo," you say, nodding. "She was having a hard time yesterday."

Jimin's silent, waiting for you to elaborate, but you don't. It becomes quite clear to him that you don't like to talk about others behind their backs.

"So, what are you here for today?" you chirp. "Advice? Questions? I know everything must be new to you, so I just hope you feel comfortable with the whole system."

"Oh, uh..." Jimin would like to tell you that you're doing a great job and that everything's going fucking great, but that's unfortunately not what comes out of his mouth. "I still don't know what to pursue. I mean, I have so much extra time on my hands now, but I'm just spending it on my phone. My friends have been advancing in their passions, but I have nothing... I was just wondering if you could um, help me? Help me find a passion, maybe? I don't know."

"Hm," you say, looking thoughtfully at Jimin. "I can definitely help you with that..." you trail off, looking Jimin up and down and cocking your head. Jimin thinks you're analyzing him—not just his physical qualities but his personality as well. He feels almost vulnerable under your gaze.

"Have you ever had any hobbies, Jimin?" you ask him.

"That's the thing," he sighs. "No, I haven't."

He looks so miserable that you have to place a comforting hand on his arm. "Hey, it'll be fine, Jimin," you say. "I'm sure it'll come to you one day. A hobby isn't something you should necessarily force out of yourself. When you feel a connection with an activity—when you aren't exactly looking for one—then that meets you've found your hobby. And if you really love this hobby, then it can grow to be your passion. You just need to be patient. Don't worry," you smile, "you'll find something."

Jimin glances at your hand on his arm and then glances up at your face. God, you have a way with words. He feels much better, even though you didn't exactly offer him a cut-out solution.

"Thanks," he says. "I needed that."

"No problem, Jimin," you beam. "I know not having a personal project to work on leaves you with the lower grades, but you're probably only at the A- ranges, right? That's not too bad," you say. "Hm, how about this?"

Oh? It looks like you're going to offer him a plan. So Jimin scoots closer to you on his chair and listens intently for your next words.

"You're a junior, and before you know it, you'll have to write your college apps. Maybe instead of spending time on your phone, you can start with your college essays now? Is that all right to suggest?" you say, cautiously. "It never hurts to get a head start, you know."

You're right. Jimin should probably be productive, just like everyone else in the group. "Yeah," he says. "That's a good idea, actually."

"Great!" you say, clasping your hands together. "And I really appreciate you coming here to tell me the truth. You'd be surprised that a lot of others don't do the same as you."

"Oh..."

"Yeah," you giggle. "Hey, what about this? We'll compromise. I'll ask my boyfriend to change something for you as a thanks from me to you for being open and honest."

"Really??" Jimin says, his eyes growing wide and a small smile appearing on his face. "Thank you!"

You shake your head. "No problem, Jimin. Good luck on your college apps!" you call to him as he leaves the room.

"Thanks!"

Wow.

Jimin's heard a lot of great things about you from his friends, but now he realizes they really weren't kidding. You're a leader, all right. But a balanced one too.

Not only did you offer him emotional support with your words of affirmation but also you showed him a solution—at least a temporary solution to his problem. And you're also incredibly generous as well.

Hm. Now Jimin can't possibly think to report your little cult. Of course, it's still half wrong, what you're doing... But after talking to you, after receiving your feedback and help, there's no way Jimin would be able to double-cross you. As weird as it sounds, you kind of have a nice smile, and he doesn't want to cause you stress or grievances that you're actively trying to avoid with your group. In other words, he doesn't want to be the cause of your frowning.

Jimin's never seen you frown before, but he doesn't exactly want to see it in the future.

"Damn, I was such a bad procrastinator before joining the student group! The study group? The group? I don't even know what to call it," Taehyung laughs. He takes a large gulp of his boba drink and continues, "I feel like being a part of this community is improving my lifestyle. Like seriously, though. I haven't had a normal or healthy lifestyle since eighth grade!"

Jungkook nods vigorously. "Dude, I know! I've never been this productive before I met Y/N! Doesn't it feel so nice to be able to dedicate time to your strongest fucking passions?"

"Duh!" Taehyung says. "Man, what if this makes me peak in happiness in high school?"

Jungkook throws his head back to laugh, but Jimin doesn't find it so amusing.

Instead, he feels a bit left out. While his friends were diving deep into their passions, Jimin had yet to find a hobby. "Why doesn't the group have a name, anyway?" he asks. "Seems kind of inconvenient."

Jungkook wiggles his eyebrows at Jimin teasingly. "Because..." he trails off spookily. "A name can always be traced back to the source. Haven't you thought of that?"

"Apparently Y/N did," Taehyung snorts. "Sometimes I wonder how she's so big-brained. God has favorites, I'm telling you."

"She's a fucking legend," Jungkook says. "I would worship her if I wasn't so stubborn about holding onto my dignity."

Jimin laughs, nearly choking on a tapioca pearl doing so. "Too bad she has a boyfriend, huh?" he jokes. "Jungkook sounds like he'd totally hit her up."

"I do not!"

"Sure, bro," Taehyung snickers. "When you talk to her, your pupils dilate."

"They fucking don't!" Jungkook says. "I have my interests elsewhere. Thank you very much!"

"Another girl?" Jimin gasps, placing a hand to his chest in shock. "Who?"

"Not a fucking girl, you bimbo," Jungkook says exasperatedly. "My music! I have interests in music. You guys fucking suck."

Jimin and Taehyung spiral into a fit of laughter. And the teasing and back-and-forth passive-aggressive remarks continued until the boba cups were empty and the three friends realized they talked up enough of a storm.

It used to be rare to meet up like this—because Jimin and Taehyung would always be overwhelmed in schoolwork—but now that their academic life was taken care of by you, they've been able to give themselves healthy breaks.

Jimin feels refreshed albeit a bit tired after parting with his two friends. He decides to walk home because his mother would kill him if she had to pick him up from the boba place when he should be studying at home.

The outside air feels nice against his cheeks, and Jimin finds himself becoming much more attentive to his surroundings. Back when he was a full-time serious Welton student, he couldn't ever spare to look at the intricacies of the vicinity—he always had to jump straight to the point, skipping the little moments to shove his face into his textbooks. It's a nice change.

Jimin notices a whole bunch of stores and studios on his walk home and he takes the time to admire each logo and memorize each name.

Damn. I never even knew some of these places existed...

There's even a dance studio called Hart's Dance Studio that Jimin swears he's never seen. The logo is an eye-catching red with a silhouette of a ballerina jumping over the 'Dance.' Jimin finds himself staring at it. Then, his eyes gravitate to the glass walls where he can see the dancers just... dancing.

And a lot of them are good. Like dancing is as easy as walking to them. But an unmoving figure amongst the active dancers catches Jimin's eyes. When he squints to get a better look, he realizes the stationary figure is you.

You're furiously typing on a laptop, occasionally looking up to watch the dancers once in a while.

What are you doing there? From your skinny jeans and lace top, it doesn't quite look like you're there to dance. Maybe you have a sibling in dance class?

But then again, Jimin remembers that Jungkook had once told him in a hushed whisper that you are definitely an only child... only after you lost your older sister to suicide, that is.

So really, what are you doing there?

Jimin cocks his head at you but realizes how weird it is to stand in front of the studio and stare. So finally, he just walks away.

But you're quite the mysterious figure. You're the exact type of person who makes others want to get to know you. You have an open quality where everyone feels welcome to talk to you, but you're also enigmatic, refusing to tell people a lot about yourself. Jimin sometimes even wonders if he's ever seen you at school with the same friend group. It looks like you're always jumping around.

Maybe you don't like to get to know people in a deep way. It's possible that you're a fan of shallow relationships, which there is nothing wrong with, of course. But then again, you have a boyfriend, whom you seem to really like. You're very hard to crack.

And even when winter break comes, Jimin's still been wondering what you've been doing at the dance studio, typing on your laptop. He's run all kinds of scenarios in his head. Maybe your mom works there? Or your friend dances there? But something inside him tells him whatever reasons he came up with are incorrect.

Meanwhile, Jimin's still waiting to find a hobby. He's already been to Taehyung's play and listened to the rough draft of Jungkook's album. But nothing seems to give him the inspiration that he needs.

Jimin just decides to go on a walk. The cold winter air nips at his skin, so he tightens his coat around himself, breathing steadily as he looks around at his surroundings. It's then when he finds himself stopped in front of Hart's Dance Studio.

He walks a bit closer to get a better look into the glass windows. And he smiles when he sees you. There is no one else around you, but you don't seem to mind. This time, however, you're not vigorously typing on your keyboard. You're... dancing.

Jimin doesn't know what prompted him to enter the dance studio, but the next thing he knows, he's inside.

You don't see him because your eyes are closed. Jimin takes the time to notice that you're wearing a simple black outfit consisting of a tank top and leggings. Your feet are left completely bare.

But the strangest part—you're not dancing with music. It explains your rather awkward movements. As if you can see yourself dance freely in your head, but you can't quite execute it in reality. Still, no matter how awkward you look, you radiate a majestic aura. So much so that from far away, you could look like a professional dancer.

Jimin doesn't realize he's staring until you startle him.

"Hey! Jimin!" you say. Your eyes are bright and wide open now and you wave at Jimin, motioning him over to you. "Hi!"

"Hi," Jimin agrees as he walks closer to you. "I didn't know you danced. Is that your passion?"

"Oh, god no," you giggle, shaking your head. "God forbid, no. It's for this book I'm writing!"

It finally makes sense. She's part of the school newspaper, and I'd seen her typing on her laptop.

"What kind of book?" Jimin asks curiously as he sits down on one of the metal benches in the dance room.

You take a sip of water from your water bottle before smiling. "It's this fictional book about a broken dancer. I'm an aspiring author! I've really been trying to get into my character and experience dancing so I can write her more realistically!"

"Oh, wow," Jimin laughs. "That's dedication."

"It's what I do to try to get good content," you say. "How's your winter break been going, by the way?"

"Pretty uneventful," Jimin says, leaning back on the bench. "I wrote and rewrote five drafts of my college essays. I don't think writing's my thing."

You laugh. "Well, we can rule that out in the list of possible hobbies you can partake in."

"Yeah," Jimin agrees. "I'm still trying to find—but not actively look for—a hobby."

"It's hard," you shrug. "You shouldn't stress too much about it, Jimin. I'm telling you, it's gonna come. I can see you be so dedicated. You just have to wait until the time's right."

"Sometimes I feel like my time will never come," Jimin admits. "Taehyung's already been writing, directing and filming his own short film these days and Jungkook's adding four more tracks to his album. I don't know whether I should feel inspired or pressured."

You shake your head. "You need to get out of your competitive mindset, Jimin," you say. "Realize that you should be doing things on your own time. Everyone has different paces, you know. Maybe you should take your mind off of everything you've been thinking of these days. Wanna dance with me?"

Your question catches Jimin off guard. "Sorry, what?"

"Would you like to dance with me?" you repeat, giggling. "Sorry, it was kinda abrupt but my character needs to experience partner dancing and so do I to write that scene. I've already asked Yoongi, but he won't budge! That boy hates dancing! So maybe you can dance with me?"

"Uh," Jimin awkwardly fidgets his fingers. "I've never exactly danced before."

You snort. "Well, honestly me too. I suck. But whatever, you know? We're going to try."

"What kind of dance?" Jimin says. "I think the only dance steps I've ever learned were the square dancing steps from fourth grade."

"We could try waltzing," you say. "It's pretty simple, I think. C'mon!"

You drag Jimin to the dance floor, guiding his right hand to lay on your back and taking his left hand in yours. Jimin feels awkwardly close to you, but when you laugh and joke about how preposterous the two of you must look, he feels a little more comfortable.

"This might end up with me stepping on your feet constantly," you say apologetically, "but I'm trying to capture the feeling of dancing with a partner. So essentially, it's the emotions that count, not the physical steps."

Jimin laughs. "I'll try not to step on your feet."

"No way," you say. "How are you better at this than I am right now? I thought you said you didn't know how to dance!"

"I don't!" Jimin protests.

But something feels right. Something kind of clicks. And the moment Jimin parts from you and rushes home, he watches dance videos online. He finds out that there are many genres, and the ones he finds the most moving are contemporary and lyrical. There has never been something that has enamored him more.

Jimin irrevocably and quite willingly falls into the rabbit hole of dance.

It's been two weeks since Jimin danced a simple waltz with you at Hart's Dance Studio, but the time seems to have flown by too quickly. The next time Jimin passes by the studio, you're still trying to dance. And when he walks in to greet you, he's met by music. You're dancing to music this time!

"Hi, Y/N," Jimin speaks over the music, breaking you from your reverie.

"Oh, gosh! Jimin! Hi!" you say, immediately turning to pause the song. "Long time no see! How's school?"

"Great," he answers. "Um, just thought I would visit the studio. Do you still need a dancing partner?"

You grin. "Well, kind of," you say. "I need to see an amateur dancer do a little improv routine. Do you mind? I tried doing it myself and recording it, but it's just not fun seeing myself be a fool on camera."

Jimin laughs. "I don't mind at all."

You gesture to the dance floor. "It's all yours."

"Thank you."

Jimin stares curiously at the dance floor, the bright lights flooding the whole room. He feels like he's on stage, but he likes that feeling. He closes his eyes and sees the hundreds of dance videos he binge-watched every day for hours. And then he dances.

Somewhere along the way, you turned the music back on, which makes it even easier for Jimin to dance. He moves instinctively, fluidly like he's water. And he stops only when he finds himself out of breath.

Your jaw is dropped open when Jimin opens his eyes.

"Jimin!" you exclaim, hands thrown in the air. "You're a natural! How did you do that? What the heck??"

Jimin shrugs bashfully, shrugging. He doesn't mention the hours and hours of stretching and practicing he had done before coming here. There would've been no way he would have agreed to improv dance for you if he hadn't felt so confident. And it's funny. Dancing is the only thing Jimin's found in his life that makes him feel self-confident so far. He would've never expected it.

"You should enroll in this studio!" you say. "With some training... You could do great things, Jimin, I mean it!"

Jimin's not too sure about that. Yes, he likes to dance, and maybe it was a hobby. But enrolling in the studio meant full-time commitment. He isn't so sure if he is ready for that. He isn't sure his parents are ready for that.

"Okay," Jimin says. "I'll um, think about it." But not really.

It's like you can see right through his lie, though. "Oh, okay," you say. "Then maybe you can practice dancing in this studio by yourself. I'm friends with the owner so she lets me swing by whenever I want. Wanna meet here every Friday? I could use a beginning dancer like you to really write a story about a dancer's progression."

Jimin's face lights up. Getting to dance one day a week in an actual dance studio?? "Yeah, sure!" Jimin says. "I'd really love to." Now I have an excuse to go to the studio and dance.

This could be the start of something great.

The start of something great it was. Fridays quickly become Jimin's favorite day of the week. After school, he rushes to the studio to meet you and work on learning the basics of dance by watching tutorial videos on the internet. Usually, he works in silence—except for the clicking sounds of your laptop, but today, when he strides onto the dance floor, you're waiting for him in the middle.

"Do you have music requests?" you ask him, scrolling through your phone as if you are deep in thought. "I always feel like it's easier to express yourself with the music you actually like."

"Music?" Jimin frowns. "I, um, don't listen to music that much."

Your jaw drops. "What??"

"I don't even have earphones," he laughs awkwardly.

"You don't have what??"

And that was all it took for you to teach Jimin music for the whole day. You went through the hundreds of songs in your playlists, putting Jimin on the dance floor and making him dance to the songs he likes best. By the end of the session, Jimin still feels like he's soaring. His heart in his chest beats to the rhythm of the music. When he steps out of the dance studio and parts ways with you, he can't help but wish it were next Friday.

But at least he has a whole week to go music hunting. Jimin's never been much of a music man, but he's found that certain songs make him want to dance. He'll search them out and practice with them in the following days.

At school, Jimin feels like a mindless machine. He's still on the fence about cheating the system that's supposed to help him; the ethical part of Jimin wants him to stop—of course it's nothing against you. Jimin just thinks that if the system to help the students exists, every student should be involved. Even he was invited into the group much later (and technically, at first, he was forced to join for catching a meeting in progress).

Yet at the same time, Jimin owes it to you and your group that he's able to do what makes him happy. And he can't bear the thought of betraying you.

At home, Jimin lies on his bed, listening to all of the songs you showed him on repeat. His family doesn't have any music streaming services so he secretly started a three month free trial on iTunes. But he knew his parents wouldn't approve of his music taste (they usually don't approve of anything too teenager-y, so Jimin borrows his father's pair of earbuds.

Jimin didn't know, but earbuds bring a whole new dimension to music. He lies face up, closing his eyes as he pictures himself jumping, dancing, moving to the sweet rhythms of the songs. It's like he's been introduced to a whole new world.

Friday rolls around way too slowly for Jimin's taste, but when he's finally there, talking to you and dancing upon your request, it feels like he's on cloud nine. Today, you ask Jimin to describe what it feels to dance.

Jimin's not exactly very good with his words but he tries his best.

"I don't know," he says at first, blushing as he looks down at the brightly lit dance floor. "It makes me feel like... how do I say it? Like I'm just in a vast room with no one but myself? The moment I hear a good song, I just get this heavy gut feeling to move, I guess. And then I see the colors and the movements... And I dance."

"A vast room?" you say in awe as you unceasingly type across the expanse of your keyboard. "Elaborate, please."

"I guess it feels like I'm on my own stage. And it's a good thing because it feels like no one's watching me," Jimin says. "Uh, kinda like I'm dancing for myself. I'm dancing to express how I feel. And if there's someone watching, I don't really feel it because I'm so uh... I'm so..."

"Enraptured by your own world?" you finish for him.

"Exactly!"

You smile. "Thank you, Jimin! You meeting me here every Friday is so helpful. I really don't know how to thank you properly."

"Oh," Jimin shakes his head. "You've helped me so much already. There's nothing you could possibly do to help me better."

After exchanging a few more words with Jimin, you deem that you have to go home early to celebrate your mother's birthday. Jimin bids you farewell, but he remains in the studio. It feels empty without you, but it doesn't really matter. He's always by himself when he dances, anyway.

Jimin turns on his music, which echoes across the dance room, ringing against the walls and thumping in his chest. He can't stop himself from moving. His body twists graciously and he leaps across the dance floor as the synths in the song sing their melodious tones. He's so into the dance that he doesn't notice a tall woman watching him in the background.

Jimin finishes off his improv dance by striking a majestic pose he had come up with himself a few days ago. He didn't expect anyone to clap when he had finished, but there was this sharp-looking woman who was applauding and smiling at him approvingly.

"O-Oh," Jimin stutters. "I'm so sorry. Uh, Y/N left a bit earlier so I just thought it was okay to stay..."

"You're Jimin!" the lady says. "I'm Miss Hart. I run this dance studio. Y/N's told me how talented you are."

Jimin blushes. "I don't know about talented."

Miss Hart shakes her head, walking closer to Jimin in graceful strides akin to that of a ballerina. "I want to offer you a spot in my dance studio. This is a personal offer."

"I-I, uh," Jimin stutters. He's caught off guard by this sudden invitation and he looks left to right in a very panicked manner. "I-I don't think my parents will allow it... Um, sorry... I have to, um, go..."

He flees before Miss Hart can get another word out of him.

It's the sad truth. Jimin's parents would likely never approve of his current hobby—even listening to music while he studied was a stretch for them. But the more Jimin thinks about Miss Hart's offer, the more he realizes how great of an opportunity that is for him to progress in the path to find his true passion.

As nerve-wracking as is it, during dinner, Jimin asks his parents if it would be okay if he started taking dance lessons. Their reactions aren't as severe as he had expected, but his parents still seem pretty surprised.

"Isn't it too late to start something new?" his mother says. "You're a junior now, Jimin. You should already know what you're good at."

"I agree with your mother," his father says. "Why the sudden interest?"

"I don't know," Jimin answers truthfully. "It just happened. I really, really like it though..."

Jimin's father raises his eyebrows. "Really?" he sighs. "I don't think so, Jimin. Think about it. I know your grades are good right now, but now you should be busy with getting ready for college, shouldn't you?"

Jimin had expected this. "Oh..."

"And have you been taking my earbuds?" his father says.

"Oh, yeah... sorry," Jimin winces. "I'll give them back right now." He trudges up the stairs, feeling dejected and miserable at the same time. He decides to give the earbuds one last listen, plugging them into his phone and placing the buds in his ears. The familiar light-hearted, serene music floods into his head. Jimin can't help it. His eyes close, his mouth parts and he begins to move. His feet take him across his room, leaping over textbooks and dirty socks as his arms move fluidly to support his upper body.

Time has a mind of its own when Jimin enters the dancing world.

He doesn't notice an audience member at the entrance of his room. Jimin's father stares at his son, taken aback by the pure emotion and passion put into such a performance. He cannot hear Jimin's music, but he is able to feel it through Jimin's movements. Jimin's father watches the dance a bit longer, then leaves. When Jimin tries to return the earbuds to his father, he rejects them. "Keep the earbuds," he tells his son. "I don't need them anymore."

On Saturday morning, Jimin's surprised when his father calls him downstairs to talk. Truth be told, Jimin's a little nervous to have a serious one-on-one talk with his father. But his anxiousness melts away when his father asks:

"Have you been learning dance by yourself?"

Jimin perks up. "Uh, yeah! Um, well, kind of. I just saw YouTube videos... And I go to a dance studio every Friday with a friend to um, practice..."

"What studio?"

Jimin freezes. "H-Hart's dance studio?"

Jimin's father nods. "All right. Here's the deal. The moment your grades slip, you're going to have to quit, okay? Let's go enroll you right now."

Jimin almost faints from the sheer amount of happiness.

It is official. Jimin is to have private dance lessons (to make up for being such a late starter) once a week. This was a bit like a trial run; Jimin might get more lessons per week if he really decided to pursue dance.

And now that Jimin's actually a student at the studio, he can come in to practice anytime he wants! Which was every day after school for three hours.

When Jimin tells you the good news on Friday, you insist that you ditch today's dance-writing sessions and get some celebratory boba.

It's the first time Jimin's with you, alone, outside of school, without being in the confines of the dance studio. If he didn't know any better, this felt like more than two friends meeting up on a Friday afternoon. It felt like a date.

You're rather chatty with Jimin, making him feel comfortable and trying to get to know him better. But it comes to the point that Jimin wants to get to know you. So he finally asks the question he had been dying to know the answer to since he'd first met you in the dance studio.

"Do you mind if I ask what your book is about?"

"Oh, I don't mind at all!" you say, aggressively sipping your boba as you think. "Hm, okay, well, I kind of changed the plot halfway through... So now instead of a broken dancer, the story's about this newborn dancer who realizes her talents rather late in her life, but she throws all of her doubts—and others' doubts—away because she realizes if she's passionate about something, it doesn't really matter how long she's been pursuing it. What matters is that she is pursuing it in the present."

"Wow," Jimin breathes.

"Yeah," you giggle, tucking back a strand of your hair behind your ear. "It's a coming of age story. I want it to be heartbreaking, bittersweet and heart-wrenching." You sip your boba. "But I might have to rewrite a lot of scenes because I'm thinking about changing the gender of the main character from female to male. I think it feels more right."

"Oh, that's gonna be a lot of work," Jimin says.

"But it's going to be worth it."

Jimin nods. Of course it will be. You put your best effort into everything. "Do you know what your title is going to be yet?"

"Eh," you laugh, shrugging goofily. "I'll think of it one day."

The light-hearted conversation takes a twist as the outside of the boba place gets darker and the afternoon morphs into the night. Jimin finds himself talking about his personal struggles as an "average" Welton student. He reflects vocally upon the times in which he had to beg to receive an A in his classes. The times in which he despised himself and didn't understand the exact point of life. The times when he was existing and not living.

It's then when you reveal your own darkest moments. And what lies beneath the smiling curtains was a murky past.

Your freshman year at Welton hit you like a bomb—it was the same year that Jimin had been suffering in the depths of sophomore year's turmoil. You became miserable, competing for first place in your classes in subject matters that you had no interest in. The tests contained little material about understanding and more about the nitty-gritty details (that were barely significant). You used to write your stories the moment you came home from school until you had to go to bed. But now, you would be lucky if you could even get a few paragraphs down before being pressured into studying something tediously and frankly, useless. It drove you nuts.

To the point that you were tempted to be pulled under into the dark world of self-hatred and suicidal thoughts. Your older sister had jumped off a building when you were only eight; you watched her stuck in a coma in the hospital with twelve broken bones until she died in her sleep. So you figured if your sister did it, so could you.

But slowly, gradually, rationality took charge of your head, driving out the demons. You garnered your anger and self-hatred towards Welton and not yourself. And during the last few weeks of school in your freshman year, you decided that you were going to make a system to help every student in need—for those with big dreams but little time.

Jimin watches and listens in awe as you continue to tell your story.

"I met Yoongi in freshman year when I was interviewing him for winning first place in a tech comp so I could write about him in the school newspaper," you explain. "He was the first person I told my idea to. And then from the summer between freshman and sophomore year, I planned the whole system. Yoongi assisted me a bit, too, but I didn't want him to be burdened."

Or, Jimin thinks, you don't trust other people.

"Yeah, and then we really kicked off," you say.

"Wait, you and Yoongi? Or the whole system you created?"

"Both," you grin. "Yoongi and I started dating during the summer. And as you can tell, our whole group flourished too. Now you're here!"

"The group's relatively new then," Jimin says. "So um, I don't know if I can ask but, how many people are really involved?"

You smile, shaking your head and denying Jimin an answer. "The trick that I use to run this system is to never trust anyone."

"Oh... wow. Not even your boyfriend?"

"Oh, it's the people you're closest to that end up failing you. Just ask my sister," you shrug. "And you never know. You aren't still thinking of reporting me, are you? I know you were contemplating that for a while..."

"O-Oh!" Jimin stutters. "Oh, shit. No, uh, definitely no. Not anymore. God, I didn't know you knew. I'm sorry."

"It's really no matter," you tell him, giving him a reassuring smile. "I think it was really nice talking to you. When we usually meet up, you're dancing and I'm taking notes or writing so this is a really nice change."

"Yeah," Jimin agrees. "I had a lot of fun, getting to know you." He glances at his watch for a split second and his eyes turn huge. "Shit, Y/N, it's almost 10 p.m.!"

That's when Jimin's able to notice that there is no one else in the boba place except you and him. The store must be closing soon. And the outside is nearly pitch black.

"Oh, wow, we've been talking for a long time," you laugh. "I guess that means we'll have to leave, huh?"

Jimin wants to be in your company for longer, but he nods, agreeing with you. "Yeah, I guess," he says. "I'll see you on Monday?"

You nod, tucking your hair behind your ear. "Goodnight, then, Jimin."

"Goodnight, Y/N."

Jimin's now been getting dance lessons three times a week now, and according to Miss Hart, he's improving at an alarming rate. Miss Hart proudly tells Jimin and his parents that he would be able to compete in local dance comps in three months and easily place.

"The boy's born to dance," Jimin overhears his teacher tell his father. He repeats those words over and over again to himself until he falls asleep that night.

His parents took his success in dance a whole different way. Immediately, Jimin was to train his muscles and stretch every day to accommodate three days' worth of hardcore lessons. And he was also ordered to join the school dance team—even though Jimin tried to tell his parents that tryouts had already been held ages ago.

But when Jimin expresses his problems to you, you bring a solution the very next day. Apparently, you had some inside sources in the dance team; you just had to pull a few strings, and the next thing he knew, Jimin was in Welton's elite dance team.

For the first time in the cult, no, group meetings, Jimin has something to show. He's able to track his progress by videos and live performances that you watch on Fridays. With all the advancement in his newfound passion, you reward Jimin with the second-highest scores on every exam (because the highest scores were reserved for the "experts").

Jimin's now sitting at the peak of a figurative mountain. His grades are soaring. His passion is soaring. He feels like his whole life has become a never-ending, high-velocity dance.

And he loves it.

There are no more meetings left after this one, you explain to all of the students. It's the last meeting for it's the week before finals. The school year will end soon, which is a huge relief to every Welton student.

You claim that outsmarting the teachers with the finals would be easy, especially with your advanced system, so there was really no need to worry. The meeting is short, concise and sweet. You douse everyone with your love and passion and thoroughly thank each and every individual for allowing another wonderful school year.

The meeting ends on a great note. You tell everyone that you have great plans for next year. Something that'll top the bomb threat. Something that'll effectively help the students and put the teachers and administrative staff to shame.

Everybody is excited.

The first time Jimin meets you during the summer is in the dance studio. He'd dressed in his workout clothes but still had enough self-dignity to spritz some cologne and put on some deodorant before seeing you.

But when he walks into the studio, he finds that you're not alone—you're with your boyfriend. Laughing. Joking. Touching. Yoongi has his arm around you and you have a casual hand placed on his thigh, leaning into him as you talk animatedly to your boyfriend.

Yikes. Jimin thinks it's going to be awkward before he actually feels awkward.

You and Yoongi really seem to like the time you're spending together and Jimin doesn't exactly want to interrupt. And there's something about the way that Yoongi tugs you closer and looks at you with sparkling mirth in his eyes that sets Jimin off.

He quickly recognizes the feeling as jealousy. It confuses Jimin even more.

Oh, fuck it.

"Hi, Y/N!" he says, waving at you. "Hey, Yoongi."

You stand up immediately rushing to greet Jimin as Yoongi stays in his spot, nodding his salutations to Jimin. "Yoongi just wanted to know what I was doing every Friday after I said no to a fifth Friday night date," you giggle. "Is it okay if he joins us today?"

"Of course," Jimin says. "I don't mind."

I kind of do.

Meeting at the dance studio was an activity exclusive to you and Jimin only... It's weird to see Yoongi butt in.

"Okay, great. Thanks!" you say. "Just do your thing, and I'll be taking notes as usual!"

Jimin nods, bracing himself to dance after he turns on the song he'd been listening endlessly these days. But today, he feels stiff. Rigid. Something's not quite right.

Today, he doesn't feel like he's on a stage alone. He feels someone watching him from the audience with scrutiny. Suddenly, Jimin can't move. He feels trapped in his own world. When he turns to look at you, he finds that you and Yoongi are immersed in a deep conversation. You're usually watching his every move.

Jimin tries to focus again, closing his eyes to immerse himself into the music. But he can't do it. Not when you and Yoongi are talking like that. Shit. Why is that so distracting?

Jimin figures one day of giving up practice wouldn't kill him. He turns off the music and walks over to you and Yoongi and plops down on the bench.

You smile but Jimin watches as Yoongi flinches just slightly, and a disgruntled look flashes across his face just briefly. Jimin ignores him.

"Yoongi and I were just talking about legacy," you explain to Jimin. "You know, what we'll leave at Welton High School."

"Oh, wow. You'll be leaving a whole elaborate system," Jimin says. "But what's going to happen to it when you've graduated?"

You shrug. "We'll have to wait and see," you say teasingly.

"I'll already be gone by that time," Jimin huffs.

"We'll keep in contact," you say. "I promise."

It's a small promise but Jimin's heart skips a beat. He wonders if you'd still be dating Yoongi then.

Why am I like this? This definitely isn't the right time.

Maybe Yoongi senses Jimin's thoughts because he tugs you closer to him. "Come on, babe, do we have to stay here forever? I want to take you out on a date..."

"Aw, Yoongs," you coo. "I don't know... Maybe the three of us can go get boba or something?"

"Babe..." Yoongi whines softly, intertwining your hand with his.

Jimin watches the movement and another pang of jealousy hits his chest, this time larger than the last. He couldn't possibly have feelings for you. Jimin concludes that he's not jealous because Yoongi is your boyfriend, he is jealous because he's stealing you away when he and you should be hanging out.

But he doesn't exactly want to get in the way of Yoongi, who already seems to dislike Jimin for hanging around his girlfriend.

So Jimin shrugs. "I don't want to intrude on a date. It's fine, Y/N, enjoy your date night."

Yoongi shoots Jimin a grateful look and even lets out a beaming smile. "Really, Jimin? Thanks!" you say.

Jimin has to admit, seeing you skip away with Yoongi arm in arm makes him happier. Fuck, no. He's starting to mirror your emotions.

This isn't a very good sign.

Jimin's right. It isn't a very good sign. He's starting to feel weird around you—emotions that he can't quite explain or justify with words.

The more he hangs out with you, the more he notices little things about you—your little habits, your speech patterns, your dimples when you smile...

It comes to the point, you confess to him one day, "You know, Jimin, I've been hanging out with you more than my boyfriend."

Jimin feels honored by that, "Well, I've been hanging out with you more than my own to friends."

And it's true. Taehyung's been busy with his theater things and has picked up a girl along the way—the girl who was notorious for spilling tears arbitrarily. Jungkook's got his eye on some shy girl Jimin doesn't really know. So the friend group's already pretty split up. But Jimin doesn't really mind as much as he should. He and his friends are happy and have split to pursue their interests. There are no regrets.

Sometimes, when Jimin notices the blush on your cheeks after he teases you, he wonders how you truly feel about him. If all the time you spent around him was doing any good.

"I guess we've become quite the team?" you smile, nudging Jimin's shoulder. "I would've never been able to come up with a revamped idea for my book without you."

"I don't think I would've come this far in dance without you."

"No, it's your pure talent," you say. "I didn't do anything." You giggle, admiring the ruffles on Jimin's dance costume. "Break a leg out there, Jimin. I know you'll kill it in the solo division."

"Thanks, Y/N. I swear, I'm not even that nervous."

That's a lie. Jimin's so nervous he's been feeling like he needed to use the bathroom for two hours now. What if I forget a step? What if I'm offbeat for a split second? What if I trip on my costume? What if the wrong song plays?

There's absolutely no pressure that you've offered to come to watch Jimin dance to write about a dance competition in your book. Jimin has to get his routine down perfectly unless he wants to wind up embarrassing himself and disappointing his eager parents. He needs to be perfect. Maybe to impress you.

But this will be the first time that Jimin will be on stage with a true audience. Even though he will dance like he's the only one in the world, he will have hundreds of watchers and a panel of judges who will scrutinize his every move.

Jimin tugs at the ruffles of his white blouse and looks to the stage nervously.

"Hey, you've got this," you whisper to him, patting his shoulder. "What matters is dancing. It doesn't matter what place you get."

You're right. Jimin's here to dance. He is not here to flaunt his talents to others; he is here to make his own progress for himself, for his passion. What matters is that he has fun on stage.

Jimin keeps that in mind when he walks on the platform. The lights shine down on him, and his ears ring incessantly. But as soon as the cello begins to let out its low, elegant sound, he dances. The music envelops his body, and he sees nothing but colors. There is no need to think of which step is next when it comes to him naturally. He twists and turns accordingly to the rueful tones of the oboe, leaps at the entrance of the violins and finishes the dance with a grand pose in the middle of the stage.

He doesn't hear the clapping when he shakily gets off the platform.

Jimin's numb. He can't remember the performance, nor can he remember if he had gotten all of his steps right. But when you lunge at him with open arms and a bouquet of flowers (that you hadn't had before) in your hands, none of his performance matters anymore.

"JIMIN!" you screech at him, almost knocking him over with the force of your hug. "YOU WERE AMAZING!"

He's so taken aback, he can't answer, just holding you to his chest as you laugh happily in his arms.

"I hope you don't mind that I recorded the performance," you tell him. "It was just... wow. I can't even think of words to describe it because... wow."

Jimin pulls away from you, grinning wildly and his heart thumping in his chest—from post-dancing or from hugging you, he doesn't really know.

"Was it that good?"

"Yes!" you say. "Come on, we just have to wait to see how you placed. Not that it matters."

And it really didn't. Even though Jimin took home silver, otherwise known as second place, everyone—his parents, Miss Hart, you—was proud of him. No one could argue that his dancing was the most emotional—the most beautiful. The dance competition was only the beginning of Jimin's journey.

Now it's even more normal for you and him to hang out. Even outside the dance studio to just talk and keep each other's company. Anyone can find you typing on your laptop and Jimin dancing and think it's a normal occurrence. Especially with the two of you on summer break, it became insanely frequent to spend a whole day out together.

Sometimes it seems as though you're flirting with him, but Jimin just tells himself that it's his imagination. You have Yoongi, for fuck's sake. You would never go after Jimin because you've said it yourself—you and he are best friends.

Yet it's socially unacceptable, apparently, to only be friends with the opposite gender (especially a younger opposite gender in Jimin's case) and expect the relationship to be purely platonic. Jimin's been noticing you stealing a couple of extra glances at him when he stretches before he dances. And he's been guilty of staring at you when you write because he likes how focused you can get in your typing sprees.

A couple of times, Jimin swears he could've leaned in to kiss you. But being rejected scares him away to ever take the chance. Besides, he doesn't want to come between you and Yoongi. That would be unfair and immature of him.

God, Jimin's mind is mixed up and his feelings are confused. He's not ready to admit it to himself yet, though. So he stays confused until a new school year comes around.

Being a senior opens up Jimin's eyes, and he realizes he had been just plain stupid—and blind. He likes you.

Fuck.

It's not a question of when these feelings had developed, but a question of why. You have a boyfriend. Jimin's already a senior, which means he'll be gone next year. You're the leader of a group—that's practically a cult, according to Google—and you keep secrets from everyone no matter how much you love them. It's just not going to happen.

And if it did happen, then what about Yoongi? He's an essential member of your group. If you break up with him to be with Jimin, assuming that you even feel the same way, then what might Yoongi do? Would he ditch your group and let it fall to the ground? Would he report you and your system to administration? Would he get revenge on Jimin?

No way is Jimin going to get involved.

He should've seen it coming. He should've prevented himself from completely falling for you the moment you started caring for him, hanging out with him, helping him... But he didn't and now he doesn't know what to do.

Well, actually, he does.

Jimin's just going to simply get rid of his feelings for you for his own sake and yours. He just won't see you for a couple of months, and by then, his feelings for you would be gone, vanished into thin air. At least, that's what he hopes.

So, Jimin creates an elaborate plan of his own to avoid you for several months, max. He secretly changes his dance lesson times and tells Miss Hart to keep his schedule from you. And when his teacher inquires why, Jimin makes up a bullshitted lie that he wants to surprise you with his next performance. Then, he skips all of his individual practices and dances at home instead so you won't be able to find him. He even misses scheduled group meetings, texting you that he was sick (when he was only lovesick).

She's just using me to write her story, Jimin tells himself. I'm nothing but a character for her.

Deep down inside, Jimin knows that's false, but he makes himself believe it. Maybe it'll help him dislike you—which isn't exactly possible—but it could at least help him stop liking you.

But it turns out that maybe you never liked Jimin the way he liked you. All too soon, Jimin finds out from Miss Hart that you haven't been coming to the dance studio, so he switches his lessons back to his normal time. You've stopped texting him about coming to group meetings too. Which was strange because Jimin was still given homework copies and test answers when he needed them.

Maybe you took the hint that Jimin didn't want anything to do with you? Jimin doesn't know.

He does know that still, every time he thinks of you, he thinks of a generous, beautiful, mature, thoughtful person who chases after her own dreams and encourages others to do the same. It's hard to stop liking you, in other words.

Already, finals week is around the corner. Jimin has a few suspicions that you're going to hatch a complex plan again to put an end to student stress altogether, but he wouldn't know because he hasn't been attending the meetings. But whatever you were planning, it would be better than the last bomb threat for sure. Because you were always looking to improve, to better yourself to help others.

God, fucking shit. Jimin can't seem to think of one bad thing about you.

His days are spent dancing mostly as he'd submitted his college apps early (thanks to your suggestion), but he also can't get you out of his mind. Your absence makes him grieve for your presence. But he can't give up now. He doesn't want to show up in front of you one day and have to explain why he avoided you for months.

So he continues with his plan.

It's the Friday before finals week.

Jimin sits around in the corner of his school's dance room as the rest of his teammates go over the routine for the winter dance competition. He'd told the captain that he was getting a bad migraine, so he was allowed to sit out for the rest of the practice.

In reality, Jimin can't stop thinking about you. He knows you're here, after school, in your newspaper room, finishing up your last edits before publishing the paper on Saturday. He wonders if you'll welcome him if he meets you. He wonders if he should apologize for avoiding you. Maybe he can get rid of his feelings by hanging out with you more. Or he'll just act like the two of you are best friends and pretend he doesn't want anything more than a platonic relationship.

Jimin doesn't know what courses through his veins to make him stand up.

"I'm going to the bathroom," he murmurs, trudging out of the dance room and outside. He'll have to cross the quad to reach the newspaper room. Jimin nervously checks his watch. 4:42 p.m., it reads. You usually leave by 4:45 p.m., so Jimin doesn't have much time.

Or maybe he shouldn't go to you at all? He hesitates, lurching forward but taking a step back.

He sees another girl, not that far away from him, walking across the quad. There's a boy behind her, yelling "Wait up!" as he tries to catch up with her while holding a stack of heavy textbooks. The girl looks back around and laughs, taking half of the boy's stack and nudging his shoulder. They continue to walk across the quad, side by side. They must be dating.

Jimin quickly recognizes the tall boy to be Namjoon, his acquaintance, and as soon as he's about to wave, there's a loud bang!

Jimin flinches. Was that a...? He can't quite believe it. But there's a lot he didn't believe but still has come true at Welton High School. Or maybe this was another one of your plans. Fake a school shooting to cancel finals. He wouldn't know. He didn't attend the meetings.

But the blood rushes out of his face and it dawns on him that this is reality as he watches Namjoon's girlfriend fall to the ground in slow motion. His own breath quickens and his eyes are alert but he's almost frozen. No. This has to be fake. This has to be a trick. There's another bang! and this time, Namjoon lurches forward, hitting the ground with a resonating thump.

Jimin's frantic, trying to find the source of the loud bangs. Maybe Namjoon and his girlfriend are part of the group. Maybe it's all a plan. Time flies too quickly and slowly at the same time. Jimin sees blood leaking from the girl as she lay face down on the cement. Namjoon is knocked unconscious. That has to be fake. You can buy fake blood, right?

But deep down inside, Jimin knows the truth. He panics. It's hard to breathe.

Then there's another bang. Jimin feels searing heat engulf his chest. He feels himself fall backward, and he clutches his wet chest—not in pain but in shock.

He tilts upwards, and his last view is of the soft gray clouds in the darkened sky.

Then everything becomes black.

Two students, two seniors are reported to be dead. One shot in the head, another in the heart. One has miraculously survived a gunshot wound and is being treated in the hospital.

"Do you know them?" you say in a shaky breath.

Your boyfriend hugs you. "You know one of them..."

"Oh, god," you whimper. You can hear the police and see the bright flashing red and blue lights from afar. "The shooter was targeting students involved in after school activities. How cowardly. When there would be fewer adults around. They were looking to attack the students."

"I know, babe," Yoongi says. "The girl... she was part of the volleyball team. Her boyfriend is the one who survived, apparently. And the other boy... He... He was on the dance team."

Your eyes turn wide as you pull away from your boyfriend. "H-He..."

"Jimin, Y/N. It was Jimin."

You feel like you're falling down a pitch-black abyss with no one to catch you or help you. "A-Are you sure it was him?" you manage to whisper. "What was he doing outside the dance room?" you sob, throwing yourself into Yoongi's chest as your boyfriend tries to comfort you.

"Park Jimin, yeah... It was him," Yoongi says, petting your back. "I heard from the dance captain that he was having a bad day. Something about migraines..."

You can't speak. Nor can you even think straight.

"Jimin's body was found significantly away from the other two," Yoongi says. "He could've run away."

A heavy weight tugs at your heart and you let out another sob of despair. "Yoongi, he could've thought it was fake."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you get it?? He thought it was like the bomb threat!—fake! Planned! God!" you shriek, pushing Yoongi away and standing up, starting to walk around in frantic circles. "I killed him, Yoongi! I fucking killed him!"

You collapse on the ground with your hands on your head. "I killed him..."

"You didn't kill him, Y/N," Yoongi says. He crouches down with you. "Hey, it wasn't your fault. He's the one who wasn't coming to your meetings. If he did, he would've known we weren't going to pull off a stunt like that until next year's finals."

You shake your head, hitting your forehead repeatedly with your palm. "It doesn't matter, Yoongi! I should've never faked such a serious ordeal!"

"Y/N..."

"I deserved to be out there in the quad."

"You're the students' hero, babe... Don't think otherwise."

"Oh? Really?" you scream. "If I really were a hero, then why the hell was the school shooter a student from our school, huh? I obviously wasn’t keeping everyone happy!"

Yoongi falls silent.

"I don't care what you say, Yoongi," you say, your voice shaking from anger and devastation. "I failed. I tried making a system, but it didn't work... And now, people are dead... And I never got to say goodbye..." And he was avoiding me for months. I never got to know why...

"Hey, hey. Your system is perfect, baby," Yoongi answers. "It just doesn't work on psycho murderers."

That makes sense, too.

"I'm sorry, Yoongi," you say. "I'm sorry I'm such a mess. Thank you. For comforting me. God, I'm sorry..."

"It's okay," he says. "Things will be fine." He pauses. "You know, on the bright side, they might cancel finals."

[2 years later]

The moment you graduated out of the hellhole of a school, you discontinued your idea of a school revolt, and your system collapsed without you nurturing it.

Welton High School went under investigation after hundreds of parents and students protested. Counselors were fired and replaced. Administration was put on probation. It didn't take until two students' murders to fix things.

Funny.

Three student suicides weren't enough for them to realize something was wrong with the school.

You're bitter, but you try not to let it get in your way. Jimin will never get full justice because he will never get the life he deserved back. He was supposed to win hundreds of dance competitions. He was supposed to get to the end of the path of his dreams. But his life cut him short.

You dedicate your debut novel to him.

Now, when you walk around a supermarket, a library, a bookstore, you see your book on the stands or stacked up on tables. The white cover contrasts from the title inked in a black font: To Jimin (It's About Time I Told You I Love You).

The book tells the tale of Jimin. A newborn dancer who becomes tangled in the depths of a rigorous high school. There's one twist, though.

The story is told from a girl's perspective. A girl who loves Jimin, but never admits her feelings until it's too late. She watches him grow, blossom and become a star. But she isn't there for him when he dies.

She is you.

And you think it's about time you admit to yourself that you loved Jimin. Except he probably never loved you.

—masterpost

—masterlist

[inclineto]

Books, November - December 2020

The Relentless Moon - Mary Robinette Kowal [I...was not prepared for an eating disorder to drive as much of the plot as it does; maybe you should be]

How to Read Water: Clues and Patterns from Puddles to the Sea - Tristan Gooley

Spoiler Alert - Olivia Dade [This could have gone so wrong; honestly, I expected to ditch it in the first two chapters, because usually I HATE giddy novels about fandom...and yet! it turned out to be wish fulfillment in the best possible way, somehow despite the inclusion of multiple tropes that I also dislike (least spoilery: “I betrayed your trust by not telling you my terrible secret that involves you when I had the opportunity, and now you can never know,” when that will obviously only make the eventual inevitable reveal much worse). Anyway: if you wanted actor RPF/fandom AU for a canon that doesn’t exist, here you go.]

Floating Coast: An Environmental History of the Bering Strait - Bathsheba Demuth

Desire and the Deep Blue Sea - Olivia Dade

The Way Past Winter - Kiran Millwood Hargrave [dnf]

Sisters in Hate: American Women on the Front Lines of White Nationalism - Seyward Darby

Swordspoint - Ellen Kushner

Jeoffry: The Poet’s Cat: A Biography - Oliver Soden

Gaudy Night - Dorothy L. Sayers *

Yes, I’m Hot in This: The Hilarious Truth About Life in a Hijab - Huda Fahmy [I introduced this artist to a former boss, whose reaction was to immediately purchase and lend me every book she’s published; I’m overdue to mail this one back (and if your thought was “that book exchange sounds backwards,” well, ...yes)]

One by One - Ruth Ware [it’s fine, I didn’t have anywhere to go the next morning, I didn’t mind staying up until 2:30 to finish this, it’s fine]

A Deadly Education - Naomi Novik

Solutions and Other Problems - Allie Brosh

The House of the Four Winds - Mercedes Lackey and James Mallory

There Is No Good Card for This: What To Say and Do When Life Is Scary, Awful, and Unfair to People - Emily McDowell and Kelsey Crowe [self-help is not usually my genre, but given that I’ve written so many condolence cards this year that I’ve run out of condolence card-appropriate stationary - archives love using scenes from Hamlet on their exhibition giveaway cards, and they’re absolutely not okay to use for...really any occasion, but especially death - and am utterly unable to tell whether anything I’m writing is any good, and that my standard How To Be A Better Person manual is an etiquette book from the 1930s, what could it hurt?]

Orlando - Virginia Woolf

Around My French Table: 300 Recipes from My Home to Yours - Dorie Greenspan

Return of the Thief - Megan Whalen Turner

Spectred Isle - KJ Charles [still really fond of this one; still really want the lesbian ghost sequel]

Division Bells - Iona Datt Sharma [there’s one scene that threw me out of the world, and I’d kind of love to see whether it got editorial notes and if so, what...but on the other hand, I wasn’t expecting this to make me cry, and it did]

Serpentine - Philip Pullman, illustrated by Tom Duxbury [the story is slight; what you want to read this for are the illustrations, which are delightful]

The Rakess - Scarlet Peckham

The Midnight Bargain - C. L. Polk

The House of Green Turf - Ellis Peters

Beach Read - Emily Henry

Not the End of the World - Kate Atkinson

World of Wonders: In Praise of Fireflies, Whale Sharks, and Other Astonishments - Aimee Nezhukumatathil

Eleventh Hour - Elin Gregory

Ahab’s Rolling Sea: A Natural History of Moby-Dick - Richard J. King [Let’s get this right out there: “Cetology” is my favorite chapter in the entire novel; I think it’s brilliant and fabulously funny and I loathe the lazy “everybody hates ‘Cetology’” trope that shows up everywhere - looking at you, Dave Malloy! - (although my mother tells me that her students did, indeed, universally despise it, which I find incomprehensible), so I’m always a little salty on approaching any Melville criticism: will they disrespect ‘Cetology”??? Sure enough, it’s there, but at least it’s on the way to explaining why you ought to appreciate it.]

Rereadings: Seventeen Writers Revisit Books They Love - ed. Anne Fadiman [the essay to read is Diana Kappel-Smith on the Peterson Field Guide to Wildflowers of Northeastern and North-Central North America]

Why Birds Sing - Nina Berkhout

Books and Islands in Ojibwe Country - Louise Erdrich

Barn 8 - Deb Olin Unferth

Black Sun - Rebecca Roanhorse

Where the Wild Ladies Are - Aoko Matsuda, translated by Polly Barton * [completely won over by this linked collection of present-day yōkai stories]

Ammonite - Nicola Griffith

Or What You Will - Jo Walton

Vesper Flights - Helen Macdonald

La Belle Sauvage - Philip Pullman [I’m fascinated to discover that the sequence I remember from reading this the first time doesn’t start until more than halfway through! He can tell a riveting story, so I wish I trusted Pullman even a tiny bit...but I don’t.]

Written in the Stars - Alexandria Bellefleur

A Libertarian Walks Into a Bear: The Utopian Plot to Liberate an American Town (and Some Bears) - Matthew Hongoltz-Hetling [some of this would never be funny; it’s possible I’d find parts of it funnier if libertarians didn’t make me so damn angry]

The Glass Magician - Caroline Stevermer

[phoebehalliwell]

I am having Thoughtstm about Bianca.

Have you thought about what her relationship would be with the rest of the Halliwell brood? Like does she get along with white!future Wyatt and Melinda? And what does she think of Henry Jr and his desire to make his Mark on the Halliwell Line?

Also I for some reason see her getting along really well with Dency? I know they don’t exist in the same universe but I could see them being friends? Maybe roasting Chris together and being good sparring partners? I think she’d dig Dency’s little detective thing she’d got going… and I know Bianca is with Chris but like… Bianca x Dency ? 👀 👀 Could be cute 😂😂

okay so for starters i think bianca gets along p well with all of the next gen but like. it wasn’t an immediate thing like. i think esp with wyatt because wyatt really is kind of like. like he's the kind of epitome of the next generation son of a charmed one and a whitelighter he's hella powerful blah blah blah and like. he kinda sits at the top of his class. which is like bianca. so i think bianca thought that wyatt would be like her because you know how like if you're only raised around people like you you kind of start thinking like how your brain works is how like everyone's brain works? i think bianca thinks wyatt is like her so she doesn't like him because well. you can guess. but i think upon meeting wyatt i mean he's just really like gentle really passive he doesn't like. like he doesn't hate magic. but it doesn't feel ingrained in him despite who he is he doesn't live for the battle like looking at him you see no markers that he's one of the most powerful witches of his generation and bianca's kinda just like huh. you don't have to feel the compulsive need to be the best at everything all the time and like make sure people know you're the best and also people kind of hate you for it because they'll never be as good as you so u decide to hate them first you decide you will be the bitch you craft a persona they're basically guaranteed to hate so when they reject you it's on your terms you wanted them to do that you basically forced their hand because the alternative is being genuine and that way if they do reject you it's not a mask they just saw you and didn't like you because let's be real there's not much to like. and wyatt's like hmm. no? i think she wouldn't really get along as well with wyatt as she would with chris because her and chris are very much both witches at heart you can feel it in everything they do but i don't think she like. doesn't get along with wyatt. i mean okay for starters wyatt kind of operates the opposite as bianca whereas bianca will throw up her stone cold alpha bitch mask before anyone can decide whether or not they like her again she kind of forces their hand because she needs this to be on her terms. wyatt does the exact opposite because again the elders almost killed him as a bebe and he's always kind of worried that some day they'll realize he as a person is just not worth the risk so he tries to be so super likable and genial and like. good witch!! at all times. and it's kind of like calls to like game recognizes game where both bianca and wyatt can tell the others wearing a mask no one's that nice and no one's that cold so like. i do think they like each other. they feel like they can be honest around each other (eventually. it does take wyatt a very long time to overcome that phoenix hurdle because again he's well read he knows what's up he knows they're like an organization of like superwitches smart deadly all of the above and he doesn't wanna be. giving up his secrets to them you know? much less the halliwell secrets. but i think once it becomes clear that bianca is her own person once she breaks from the phoenix then like. like you know they have to trust each other first. but once they do, they're buddies) i also think bianca's studied art history so i think they can talk about that and chris is like. okay? because like. no he gets it shure it's cool but also how long reasonably can you talk about a single painting like come on now.

as far as melinda goes i think like i think melinda comes off as really passive really kind a nurturing type like in her day to day life or whatever like oh she's such a sweetheart but she's kind of shy again like s1 piper is really my jumping off point for mellie that and she has leo's big heart That Being Said i do not think that shows At All when she's home i think she drags her brothers for filth like nail on the head baby she's like. if you're being a dick (which, between chris and wyatt, happens relatively frequently) she's gonna call you out on it!! in a very brutal and personalized, but at the same time still kinda funny way. she definitely has receipts. so i think just first hearing the way chris and bianca engage the way she like. like she respects chris's skills as a witch bianca does she thinks he's very talented she would trust him with her life but at the same time chris u fuckin idiot i think they have a very playful raport but bianca is very starstruck by him she's never lost in the layer and layers or fog that surround chris's identity i think like too many of chris's lis (not that he like ever does relationships really) are just kinda like. lost in the image. whether it's charmed one or brooding skinny brunet w daddy issues they are many images of chris u can see instead of the real one but bianca sees chris as he is which i think gives her immediate points from melinda melinda is also an empath and i do think bianca is protected against empaths but like melinda's like oh you two are In Love in love. as far as personal relationships go between melinda and bianca i think melinda would be the one who most consciously tries to make bianca feel like a part of the family like a halliwell. chris, respectfully, i love him, doesn't think of like. inviting her to some family events, especially not early in the relationship because like. he just doesn't. but melinda's like chris!! thanksgiving u gotta invite her 2 thanksgiving. because again. melinda can't feel bianca. but like. she's been an empath her whole life she knows what she's looking at and like. bianca needs a loving family. and she is totally willing to provide that!! and then for what it's worth i think despite all her skill bianca isn't nearly as good at reading mel as melinda is at reading her. like i think she sees the soft external melinda and then the melinda who roasts her siblings and is like okay i kinda get it. and like melinda want to be a nurse or doctor she wants to fuse her empath with a mortal career to best help people like sure. but i think like. but them on a solo mission together (i guess duo mission) and bianca'll fine she's just really misread melinda like in general what she thought she was looking at is not the witch melinda is and i think it's just because bianca's unaccustomed to seeing someone who has power like melinda who can fight like melinda who undeniably has her mother's unbreakable fierce spirit just be like how melinda is in her day to day life. like someone who's that great at what she does just choose kindness and gentleness daily not because the elders are breathing down her neck or like she needs allies or like she has some epic prophecy to fill she just like. chooses kindness because she wants to. she wants a kind world. and bianca's like huh. bc lowkey forgot that was an option. but it's difficult seeing all the shit bianca has.

in regards to henry i think henry jr and bianca get along famously because they just like feel really similar like. like bianca was never liked in the phoenix because well a) she's a bitch b) she's the best and c) like she was always clearly people favorite so like. others were it was jealously call a spade a spade this is like elementary era it's jealousy when you're eight and trying your hardest and the other eight year old gets praise the praise u really want and she didn't even try she didn't even care she didn't have to because she's just so much better than you. like!! yeah so kids at school never liked her, esp within the phoenix (ftr i think phoenix go thru a normal education system so like can like function/blend in real well in normal society and then Also go to phoenix academy, so kinda like what gen2 does with magic school). bianca's never fit it, but she's also wicked smart. so kinda like henry! like paige kind of runs magic school henry's sisters go there like henry's been at magic school. he doesn't take classes, but he's always there. he burns through the books in the library. he knows everyone just calls him the mortal, he doesn't care, because he also knows they know he's smart than them like if they could swallow their pride and ask him for help like most of these kids would become better witches but they don't because henry's a mortal. bianca doesn't care, the kid knows his shit. so what if he doesn't have powers, like, dude, he's basically a walking encyclopedia, and he's read the book of shadows cover to cover like a dozen times, do you know how rare that knowledge is? that's the sacred book of the warren line like that's a crucial ancestral item and henry's like. like in bianca's mind not only is henry a warren witch like he's Thee warren witch no other person alive knows that magic better than him. i also think they have similar senses of humor.

dency!! i mean i think if dency were born any later she'd be besties with like all the phoenix i think magic isn't at a stage where they're really integrated into society yet and there's still kind of that cultish structure but that's not the reason light magic doesn't engage right they don't deal with the phoenix because they're neutral so they will work with demons meaning working with them as a light magic practitioner is forbidden. and then for what its worth i think dency being demon/charmed one is really gonna herald in an era of just kinda like acceptance for those who are neutral or even born of dark magic but like. that hasn't happened. yet. but like. in regards to bianca specifically. i think they'd vibe. i think bianca would throw up her cooler than u bitch personality as she always does and i think dency'd be so into it. and then, of course, dency doesn't look down her nose at the phoenix like most other witches do, again, because she's the source's heir. from what vantage point can she judge others? i think for bianca just seeing someone who's so kinda unabashedly themselves like honest about it too dency's not like. a role model. like there's penn who's really put together and always trying to seem pristine and polite and then they're dency who like hasn't showered in four days because she's out of shampoo so she needs to buy some Then she can shower. there's like. an honest about being kinda uncool kinda a fuck up that makes dency like. cool. like because we all do it (maybe not specifically the shampoo thing, but) like we all have some elements of ourselves that are just kind of truly pathetic and dency doesn't try to cover it up with some shiny veneer she doesn't she not like wyatt with his perfect mask or even bianca with her bitch one dency doesn't wear a mask take me or leave me baby and i think bianca really loves her for that. it genuinely depends on were in the timeline in chrisbianca does bianca meet dency because like. dude. powercouple. i don't think it'd go anywhere i don't think we're necessarily hitting soulmatism or kinda the raw vulnerability we'll get from a latestage chrisbianca but like. dude. like. 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀. like. !

[mimmerr]

Key workers, militant cowards, vital frontline staff: how the country viewed teachers during the pandemic.

It is obvious to say that the pandemic has been a difficult time for the public sector. First and formally, frontline NHS and care home staff have dealt with the horrifying human effects of the pandemic; a day does not pass without a bleak photo of a hospital ward or an interview with an exhausted team member. And we are blessed to have these people persevere all day, all night, to keep our loved ones alive.The pandemic has also brought to light other key workers on which our country depends: supermarket staff, refuse collectors and transport workers. Yet I would not say I hear these places of employment discussed with as much frequency and vitriol as schools and teachers are. I have probably lost some support with that last sentence. Here’s another teacher again, moaning about how hard everything is. I implore you to step back with me and unpick how you’ve come to that conclusion and then consider how I have reached mine.

March 2020, the pandemic has reached its first wave. After weeks of parents refusing to send their children to school, in addition to union and expert pressure, schools shut to all children except the vulnerable and those of key workers. Headlines reflect the resistance to do, using words like ‘forced’ and ‘Now it’s the schools’. Others comment on the government’s lack of support and guidance for leaders. However, community spirit is strong. People clap for the NHS every Thursday and we are reminded of both the fragility of life and what it means to be human: arguing with your family about one left sock on the floor and so on. The education sector is thanked repeatedly by the Prime Minister, Education secretary and companies (in the form of discounts etc) for their services.

June arrives. A selection of year groups are invited back to school. Unions, heads and councils argue with the decision and some parents do not send their children back at all. The Daily Mail’s headline reads, ‘Let Our Teachers Be Heroes’ and describes the unions as ‘militant’, espousing a dichotomy between unions and teachers. 

Whereas in reality, the union is made of and led by teachers. Secondly, the use of ‘heroes’ to describe those returning to school acknowledges that there is some danger to heroically overcome. Moreover, an unwillingness to return to a class of children from different households, who are unable to socially distance, is the antithesis of heroic: it’s cowardly or selfish. 

Skip forward to September, schools are open to all.  A piece of normality is back, albeit covered in antibacterial spray, hand soap and wrapped in a bubble. School communities on the whole, although wary, are prepared and delighted.

Unfortunately a few months later, cases rise and everything begins to shut down again: pubs, leisure centres and non-essential shops. Schools are open but many partially shut, sending home year group or class bubbles in response to positive test results. There are calls for school closures before Christmas so staff and children are not told to self-isolate over Christmas, which at this point allows for household mixing. This does not materialise and for many staff it does not matter; those in tier 4 were now unable to mix households over the Christmas period.

New Year arrives and the peak is dangerously rising. Schools shut for two weeks in highly affected areas. Those in less affected areas go back in January to be told the next day they shut for the half term. This is where perhaps the biggest shift in narrative occurs. It is at this point that seemingly, every morning, on every TV and radio show, there is a debate between whether schools should open or shut. Often, one voice is of a stressed parent, quite rightly concerned about their child’s education, which has already been affected so much by this pandemic. The other voice is of a staff member or another parent’s, who worries about them or their child catching the virus or transmitting it to a more vulnerable family member. There are complaints about individual school practices such as unclear and inconsistent messaging regarding home learning and closure. I cannot and do not wish to spend my time defending ineffective school leadership. However, I would stress that some schools were told overnight to prepare for remote learning the next day and secondly, that schools who were aware of a fortnightly lockdown were told during their annual leave and had to prepare accordingly. There are definitely other jobs where there’s an expectation that work may affect annual leave but certainly not many. I’d also like to highlight that in all places of work, there will be ineffective management, but this is rarely applicable to other similar establishments. To put it crudely, we can accept that one bad experience with a doctor does not necessarily mean the whole practice is terrible and by extension, the NHS. One school’s poor management of remote learning does not mean all remote learning is poor and consequently, schools should stay open.

At this time and throughout the pandemic, there are inputs from the media, government and OFSTED, reiterating that schools are the best place for children and that school closures should be used as a last resort. This argument is obviously true. I doubt you will find a teacher that will suggest otherwise. However, the argument is also reliant on emotional response rather than conscious, encompassing reasoning. We know that schools can have hundreds of people inside from many different households. We know that younger pupils and those with SEND may not be able to socially distance or follow extra hygiene practices effectively. We know as teachers, that we usually have to work closely with children to read their work and teach them new skills. We now know that for some teachers the infection rate for COVID is 333% higher than the general population. Arguing for school closure is not cowardly, selfish disobedience, it’s self and community defense against a deadly virus. This cannot be pitted against children’s education and well being because it is also incredibly important yet is somehow footnoted. 

In recent weeks, the narrative has again shifted, mirroring the one of the first lockdown: one of community spirit and support. The education secretary advised parents to complain to OFSTED should they have concerns regarding home learning. In response, parents sent over five thousand emails of thanks and praise for teacher’s hard work. 

Evidence of school infections linking to community infection is growing supporting the previous concerns over school reopening and lessening room for debate on whether schools are safe. Consequently, there are hopes for teachers to be vaccinated in the second phase of rollout. 

We came together to thank teachers alongside other key workers but it wasn’t long until they were blamed, rather than COVID, for school closures. When people are scared and worried, it can be all too easy to find someone to blame, rather than see them as a person with the same fears and anxieties. We must empathise with each other. To parents, I would say to not see unions or their members as the reason for closure, see them as people who want to keep teachers and children safe. We are also someone’s children. I would implore teachers to do everything they can to support parents struggling with home learning at home and to make sure learning is accessible as possible: they are not to blame for gaps in their children’s learning - they are not teachers. And together, we must not forget that school staff are on the front line, with many giving their lives as a result of being in school. Let’s put an end to oppositional vitriol. We want children back in school but let’s all now agree that can only happen if school staff are protected.

[newstfionline]

Friday, February 26, 2021

Canada says genocide (Foreign Policy) The Canadian Parliament overwhelmingly voted in favor of declaring the atrocities in Xinjiang genocide. Prime Minister Justin Trudeau abstained from voting on the motion, which passed 266-0. China has responded with the usual vitriol. The decision follows former U.S. Secretary of State Mike Pompeo’s declaration of genocide, despite a split memo from the State Department. Some U.S. lawyers argue that the atrocities are crimes against humanity but not genocide. The Canada-China relationship is already fraught. Two years ago, China detained two Canadian citizens, Michael Kovrig and Michael Spavor, on spying charges after Canada detained the CFO of Huawei, Meng Wanzhou, following a U.S. extradition request. The Canadian government has described China’s actions as “hostage diplomacy.” The new genocide bill includes a provision calling for the 2022 Winter Olympics to be moved from Beijing if the atrocities continue—a significant move given Canada’s influence in winter sports.

School voucher push taps frustration over distance learning (AP) With her children struggling in many classes last spring, Kelli Rivera became so frustrated with how her suburban Atlanta district was handling the coronavirus pandemic that she withdrew them to home-school them. They’re back in public school and mostly attending class in person. For now. Rivera is thinking of enrolling her younger son in private school next year, and she hopes the state of Georgia might help her pay for it with an expansion of school choice programs. “We’ve been just a public school family forever, without any intention or desire to leave,” Rivera said. “But when the pandemic hit and we moved into virtual schooling, it really wasn’t working for us.” School choice advocates and lawmakers in many states are counting on the frustrations of parents like Rivera to bolster efforts to pass or expand laws allowing families to use public money to pay for private school or to help teach their own children at home. Some sort of school choice program already gets public money in 29 states, the District of Columbia and Puerto Rico. “If you talk to any parent of a school-aged child, what you’ll find, literally across the board, is they’re just mad, frustrated, that traditional public school districts failed to deliver education to their children,” said American Federation for Children President John Schilling, who lobbies for school choice programs. “What the pandemic has laid bare is just how inflexible the K-12 system is.”

Cold wreaks havoc on aging waterworks (AP) The sunshine is back and the ice has melted. But more than a week after a deep freeze across the South, many communities are still grappling with getting clean water to their citizens. For years, experts have warned of the need to upgrade aging and often-neglected waterworks. Now, after icy weather cracked the region’s water mains, froze equipment and left millions without service, it’s clear just how much work needs to be done. Families stood for hours in lines to get drinking water. They boiled it to make it safe to drink or brush their teeth. They scooped up snow and melted it in their bathtubs. Hospitals collected buckets of water to flush toilets. “You don’t realize how much you use water until you don’t have it,” said Brian Crawford, chief administrative officer for the Willis-Knighton Health System in the northwestern Louisiana city of Shreveport, where water pressure at one hospital only started returning to normal Wednesday. Tanker trucks had supplied it with water since last week. The still-unfolding problems have exposed extensive vulnerabilities. Many water systems have decades-old pipes, now fragile and susceptible to breaking. A 2018 survey by the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency estimated $473 billion was needed over 20 years to maintain and improve water infrastructure. In a 2020 report, the American Society of Civil Engineers said a water main breaks every two minutes on average in the U.S., and described “chronic, long-term and insufficient investment.”

Shopping online eases isolation for older adults (AP) In November, Paula Mont did something new: The 86-year-old, who hasn’t left her New Jersey senior living community in nearly a year, went shopping—online. Mont used an iPad, equipped with a stylus to help her shaky hands, to buy a toy grand piano for her great-granddaughter. She picked it out from more than a dozen versions of the instrument on Amazon. “It is like a wow feeling. I found it!” Mont said. The pandemic has motivated many who have been isolated at home or unable to leave their senior communities to learn something they may have resisted until now: how to buy groceries and more online. Instacart president Nilam Ganenthiran predicted that online groceries will be a “new normal” for older people even when the pandemic ends. Still, there are many barriers, from struggling to use new technology to high prices to access.

Venezuela kicks out head of EU delegation after new sanctions (Reuters) Venezuelan Foreign Minister Jorge Arreaza said on Wednesday that the head of the European Union’s delegation in Caracas had 72 hours to leave the South American country and declared her persona non grata after the bloc imposed new sanctions on Venezuelan officials this week. In announcing the action against Portuguese national Isabel Brilhante, Arreaza described the sanctions against 19 Venezuelan officials as “truly unacceptable.” The sanctions were a response to legislative elections won by President Nicolas Maduro’s allies that Venezuela’s opposition and many Western democracies deemed fraudulent. Two EU diplomats said the move was unwelcome but will not change the bloc’s policy, end sanctions, or derail efforts to mediate a way toward new “free and fair” presidential elections in the country.

Ecuador raises death toll from prison riots to 79, says situation controlled (Reuters) Ecuador on Wednesday raised the death toll from riots in four jails to 79, and said authorities had regained control following one of the bloodiest outbreaks of prison violence in its history. Police and troops were stationed at detention centers in the cities of Guayaquil, Cuenca and Latacunga, where gangs on Tuesday fought one another with handmade weapons in what authorities said was a coordinated outbreak of violence. Prison authority SNAI said all those killed the rioting were prisoners. President Lenin Moreno declared Ecuador’s prison system in a state of emergency in 2019 after a wave of incidents that killed 24.

Britain’s GCHQ cyber spies embrace the AI revolution (Reuters) Britain’s cyber spies at the GCHQ eavesdropping agency say they have fully embraced artificial intelligence (AI) to uncover patterns in vast amounts of global data. AI, which traces its history back to British mathematician Alan Turing’s work in the 1930s, allows modern computers to learn to sift through data to see the shadows of spies and criminals that a human brain might miss. GCHQ, where Turing cracked Germany’s naval Enigma code during World War Two, said advances in computing and the doubling of global data every two years meant it would now fully embrace AI to unmask spies and identify cyber attacks. The world’s biggest spy agencies in the United States, China, Russia and Europe are in a race to embrace the might of the technological revolution to bolster their defensive and offensive capabilities in the cyber realm.

Amnesty strips Alexei Navalny of ‘prisoner of conscience’ status (BBC) Amnesty International has stripped the Russian opposition politician Alexei Navalny of his “prisoner of conscience” status after it says it was “bombarded” with complaints highlighting xenophobic comments that he has made in the past and not renounced. A spokesman for the human rights organisation in Moscow told the BBC that he believed the wave of requests to “de-list” Navalny was part of an “orchestrated campaign” to discredit Vladimir Putin’s most vocal critic and “impede” Amnesty’s calls for his release from custody. But on review, Amnesty International concluded that comments made by Navalny some 15 years ago, including a video which appears to compare immigrants to cockroaches, amounted to “hate speech” which was incompatible with the label “prisoner of conscience”. “We had too many requests; we couldn’t ignore them,” spokesman Alexander Artemev told the BBC, explaining that the team initially discounted Navalny’s previous statements—which he has not repeated—as “not relevant” in the light of his current, political persecution.

India and Pakistan announce cease-fire for first time in nearly 20 years (Washington Post) India and Pakistan announced Thursday that their militaries would cease firing across their shared border, the first such step since 2003 and a potentially significant move toward lessening tensions between the two rivals. Military officials in the two countries released a joint statement saying they had agreed to a cease-fire that went into effect at midnight, including along the unofficial frontier in the disputed region of Kashmir. Indian and Pakistani soldiers regularly exchange mortar and small-arms fire in the region, a situation that analysts have described as a war by other means. The low-grade conflict is deadly, with dozens of villagers and military personnel killed each year. Relations between the two neighbors have been frosty since 2019, when India conducted an airstrike in Pakistan after a terrorist attack killed 40 Indian soldiers in Kashmir. The two countries then engaged in their first aerial dogfight in nearly 50 years. Cross-border firing in Kashmir—which can involve everything from small arms to artillery—has also intensified. There were more than 5,000 such incidents in 2020, according to Indian data, the highest such figure since 2002.

Hong Kong’s Lesson to Schoolchildren: Love China, No Questions Asked (NYT) The orders seemed innocuous, even obvious: Primary school students in Hong Kong should read picture books about Chinese traditions and learn about famous sites such as the Forbidden City in Beijing or the Great Wall. But the goal was only partially to nurture an interest in the past. The central aim of the new curriculum guidelines, unveiled by the Hong Kong government this month, was much more ambitious: to use those historical stories to instill in the city’s youngest residents a deep-rooted affinity for mainland China—and, with it, an unwavering loyalty to its leaders and their strong-arm tactics. Students, the guidelines said, should develop “a sense of belonging to the country, an affection for the Chinese people, a sense of national identity, as well as an awareness of and a sense of responsibility for safeguarding national security.” The Hong Kong government is using history as a potentially powerful tool to inculcate obedience and patriotism. In some cases, the government has moved to literally rewrite history. It is backing the creation of a 66-volume set of “Hong Kong Chronicles,” which is projected to cost $100 million and promises a “comprehensive, systematic and objective” record of the city’s last 7,000 years. In official yearbooks that summarize the government’s achievements, references to past cooperation with Western countries—which had been reprinted without change for decades—have disappeared. In mainland China, major events, including the government’s 1989 massacre of Tiananmen Square protesters, have been largely erased from public memory by censorship and official directives that insist on “patriotic education.” Critics fear that model is being imported to Hong Kong.

Pro-military marchers in Myanmar attack anti-coup protesters (AP) Members of a group supporting Myanmar’s military junta attacked and injured people protesting Thursday against the army’s Feb. 1 seizure of power that ousted the elected government of Aung San Suu Kyi. At least several people were injured in the attacks in Myanmar’s largest city. The chaos complicates an already intractable standoff between the military and a protest movement that has been staging large-scale demonstrations daily to have Suu Kyi’s government restored to power. Photos and videos on social media showed the attacks and injured people in downtown Yangon as police stood by without intervening. The attackers fired slingshots and carried iron rods, knives and other sharp implements.

US-Saudi relations (Times of London) President Biden will warn Saudi Arabia’s aging King Salman of his intent to reset US relations with the kingdom as he prepares to unveil a possibly explosive report on the killing of the journalist Jamal Khashoggi. Mr. Biden will speak to the king soon and does not expect his son, Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, 35, the kingdom’s day-to-day ruler, to be on the call, the White House press secretary, Jen Psaki, said yesterday. The normally routine matter of protocol represented by Biden’s first phone call to the kingdom as president has taken on significance in the light of his pledge, outlined in his election campaign and by aides since he took office, to upend US policy towards the Middle East. A CIA report due to be declassified and published this week on Khashoggi’s murder is expected to suggest that it was ordered by the crown prince.

[rylredrants]

Pandemic, Politics & Personal Life

I just broke up with my best friend of 5 years. 

She supported me through three major breakups in less than a year, showed up for moves, meltdowns, and meals. We treated each other as sisters, and to me it meant “I love you even when I don’t like you.” There are things about her life and beliefs that I just flat out don’t like, but I compromised and allowed room in my life for those differences.

She is a devout Christian. I’m a card-carrying member of The Satanic Temple. She is married to a border patrol agent, and has repeatedly said that having children separated from their parents at the border is a consequence of their actions. I’m horrified that there are children in literal chain link cages being neglected, assaulted, and traumatized in a way that is simply unthinkable. She reminds me that Obama built the cages.

When her step-child came out as non-binary, she had a meltdown over the fact that she had always wanted a daughter and now the kid is asking to be called by a masculine name. I’ve worked with PFLAG (Parents and Families of Lesbians and Gays, the local LGBTQ+ support network) and done education about gender, sexual orientation, and alternative relationship structures where I emphasize the privilege I have as a cis, straight woman (who personally embraces traditional gender roles).

I compromised and allowed room in my life for some pretty big ideological differences. But this year has changed everything.

When the pandemic began, I was living alone for the first time ever. Her home was my home. I cooked in her kitchen, co-hosted her gatherings, brought my laundry to her house rather than use the machines in my apartment complex. I fed her cat when she was on vacation. I had the code for her front door, and at times “shopped” from her stockpile in between shopping trips. We went grocery shopping together the last 2 times I was in a grocery store.

Her husband crossed a line with me after I allowed a loosened boundary in our relationship, and I did my best to not take it out on her. But when we planned ‘girl’s night’ and he decided to call out of work and be at home I hated being there. It became a problem but being me, I felt it better to sidestep things than be direct because I knew that the damage would be irreparable and I didn’t want to end our relationship. I was compromising my own comfort in an attempt to keep the peace.

When she got a head cold and cancelled a laundry and Masked Singer night, I felt abandoned. But I knew it wasn’t personal and I just let it go. When I came over and found one of her husband’s other partner at their house, I felt like my quarantine bubble had been invaded and there were suddenly more risks than I was okay with. 

She replied by trying to rationalize things like who that outside partner was in contact with, but I stopped feeling safe there. I felt like I’d lost my second home. But I didn’t speak up.

She had to go back to work (in retail) but she insisted that she always wore her mask everywhere because she knew how I felt about it. Then she told me that she had plans to go to a local Republican meeting of some kind. She’s always known my view on the politics thing, and this year the Republican Party has proven to be the bigger of two evils by miles. 

She said, “Please don’t disown me” knowing that the political thing may be big enough to possibly disown her.  

I relayed the story to my ex-husband. They used to hang out and go to movies together, but he always knew about the differences in our home and hers. He felt the same as I did about things. A little while later, he shared a picture from the Republican event and there she was naked faced in a small room full of senior citizens. He was horrified. 

I was that much more certain I’d made the right choice in not socializing with her in person.

One day, after a couple months without hanging out she messaged me saying that local COVID numbers were down so “Can we be friends again?” 

But that’s not how this works. Local numbers go down, people stop being diligent and then numbers go up again. It’s exactly what’s happened all over the country this fall. I was not going to be one of those people, but I agreed to do the video chat thing.

Her birthday rolled around and she messaged me upset because her husband had gotten the wrong kind of cake. My immediate reaction was to check my pantry for cake supplies and make plans to bake her a better cake and drop it on her porch the next day. 

We set up a time to have a video chat the next morning… much earlier than I’m typically up and coherent but she’s an early bird in general and I was making brunch for my boyfriend and his son later that morning. I got up and sat at my desk for over an hour with my messages unread. She finally messaged me about how sideways her morning had gone and I did my best to not take it personally. I didn’t bake that cake.

I went to Mexico for my birthday in October. It was the first time I’d been anywhere since the pandemic began. The first time I’d been to Mexico, first time I met my boyfriend’s mom, and the first time I ate in a restaurant in months.

In Mexico, people were wearing masks everywhere. They had footbaths in every doorway where someone took your temperature and squirted sanitizer into your hand before you crossed the threshold. I felt safer in Mexico, terms of COVID exposure, than I felt anywhere at home.

The day after I got back, she video called me in hysterics. She sobbed that I’d gone to “dirty, nasty Mexico” but wouldn’t have coffee with her after she’d “begged” me for months. She went on about how low the local COVID numbers were as a way of saying that I was being overly cautious by staying home like I’ve been. 

She was in a hotel room at the time. 

She and her husband were on an anniversary trip to Las Vegas, having flown threw Phoenix. They were about to head out to a cigar bar. But the local numbers! Seriously.

Today I got the message asking if we were still best friends. I softballed a lot of it, but it ended with her saying “whatever” and that she wouldn’t take responsibility for my choice to abandon her without telling her how I’d felt. And she unfriended me on Facebook.

Part of me feels really shitty. I’ve been processing this feeling of grief and loss of that relationship for months. It’s been exhausting. But if I’m being honest, it’s a bit of relief that it’s over.

I’ve been questioning if I was justified in my stance. 

Were these differences so big that they couldn’t be ignored anymore? Am I over-reacting and cutting one of the last people in my life out that I called my family? Or have I just gotten to the point of exhaustion where I simply don’t have the emotional bandwidth to keep overlooking and compromising my own beliefs?

It feels like the latter and as much as it hurts, I know that’s been one of the tales of 2020 that’s being repeated over and over again. The stakes have gotten too high to compromise or minimize some things. 

It’s all too serious to just live life like there’s not a deadly pandemic. Like there hasn’t been a total upheaval of our political system. Like those of us who stay home and mask up when we don’t have a choice, forgoing all the things that were “normal life” like anniversary trips, restaurants, community theater… all things she’s been doing, unmasked and unaffected all year.. we are the ones that are over-reacting. Nope. I’m not going to be gaslit like that. 

Wear a damn mask, people!

Stop putting your need for a haircut or brunch ahead of the reality that people are dying en masse and suffering long-lasting damage because people can’t be bothered to put a piece of cloth on their face when they go grocery shopping.

There is no reason for people to be making the pandemic political, but those who do only add to the personal impact it has on all of us.

I’m exhausted.

[volumesapart]

A Deadly Education by Naomi Novik review: 

My rating: 4 stars

Review addition based on controversy:

I've seen many reviews stating that this work has severe racist connotations. I wholeheartedly support people having their own opinions and speaking up about what they believe. And if you were offended by this book your emotions and voice are 100% valid. That being said, I did not find this book racist personally and feel that many have missed the point of the book completely.

Many reviews are upset in the off-handed way diversity is described in the book by El (the main character). Students of other races/from other countries are often described as "InsertXLanguage speakers," which I don't find offensive in and of it self. I think mostly it reflects El's analytical and unsocialized nature. Throughout the book she categorizes people quickly in her head based on usefulness, intelligence, and languages they speak because in the school's extreme survival environment she seems to have little use for people except as assets. This is a reflection of El as a character, not Novik herself. And El is a flawed character (as many are!). She has been raised in the middle of nowhere Wales in a YURT. She is prickly and unsociable, but she is also only 16 and has been in survival mode since birth. El has little experience with having friends or talking to people, so why would she have an in depth knowledge of all the countries of the world and how they would want their culture to be represented?

And the school IS diverse! It's not even in Britain like I have seen a few reviews state - it's in The Void. With all the diversity of the school, no outside prejudices or racism is mentioned or has any part of the story. There are no culture clashes or attributing so and so's behavior to being X race. Most of the students that do bad things and are ostracized are from the New York enclave and it's not because of where they are from or their cultural background it's because of the choices they make.

There are two passages that have sparked the most controversy and I agree the dreadlocks commentary is unnecessary/doesn't add anything to the story and can be seen as offensive since dreadlocks to have high association with the Black community. This probably should have been edited out or caught in the editing process, but sadly it wasn't and I do think Novik should have it removed in future editions and release an apology. (edit: she did)

The second controversial section is as follows:

“Predictably, an Arabic worksheet appeared on my desk the instant I sat down that morning. There wasn’t a single word of English on it; the school didn’t even give me a dictionary. And judging by the cheery cartoonish illustrations next to the lines—most notably a man in a car about to mow down a couple of hapless pedestrians—I had the strong suspicion that it was modern Arabic, too. I should’ve got a book on Classical Arabic out of the library before going to class.”

I understand people have been taking this as a backhanded comment about all Arabic people being terrorists. I agree the sentence could have been worded better, but I do not think this passage has the malicious intent that many think it does. Firstly, El assumes it's modern Arabic because there is a car in the illustration. Secondly, it's a violent scene because EVERYTHING the school gives El is violent/destructive because that is her propensity (as is stated many times). She has received this worksheet because she found an Arabic book by chance and the school is forcing her to learn Arabic as a new language. The Arabic book in question El ADORES and treats like a pet. It's an extremely powerful spellbook, which if you did want to read between the lines could mean that Novik finds that culture to be powerful, intelligent, and worthy of praise. All this being stated, I do still think the passage could have been written differently to not cause any confusion.

The thing that saddens me the most about all this controversy is that I feel many people are missing the truly brilliant subtext of the evils of social inequality and how the wealthy hoard life-giving resources at the expense of the poor. This book isn't about race at all! IT'S ABOUT CLASSISM!!! Bong Joon-Ho would love it! What a perfect message as many countries are suffering from the extremes of capitalism! How perfectly does it reflect my anguish as an American in 2020, fearing for my life not because of sickness itself but because knowing that if I get corona I will be in crippling debt for the rest of my life. El understands the system isn't made for her and is furious about it. And if anything the diversity of the school and the world that Novik has created demonstrates that this is a worldwide problem! The rich are cozy in their power and don't care if the masses die! The thing I want to know is how do we fix it?? And I am eagerly looking forward to the other books in this series to see what Novik has to say about it.

Again, I understand that everyone is entitled to their own opinion but I invite you to read this book though the lens of social structure instead of race and see where you come out! I know in the real world those two issues often go hand-in-hand, but I still think the message in this book has value even if Novik didn't tackle both topics at once.

------------------- Original Review Below -------------------------

What an interesting world! Definitely the first magical world that I can’t think of that I don’t want to live in. Being a magic user in this setting sounds awful to be honest. I did enjoy this book a lot and finished it fairly quickly but I will say it wasn’t as good as Uprooted or Spinning Silver. I did enjoy it more than Temeraire (and exceedingly more than the last books of the Temeraire series). There was certainly a subtext of classism and the unfairness of the wealthy not caring about the plebs, which is very relevant to the current state of the US and other parts of the world.

My main complaint was the extensive portions of info dump that continued through most of the book that broke up the action and momentum of the story. I do appreciate that they gave background and depth to the world and main character but sometimes it was just too much. The ending of the book picked up momentum since there wasn’t as much info dumping but hopefully there won’t be so much in the next book.

As a side note, the dust jacket of the book is pretty but sadly gets fingerprints very easily so I took it off while reading. However the book itself left black coloring on my fingers for days so I’m not sure which is worse.

[bmoviedragonsreloaded]

Review: The Russian Specialist (2005)

"Oh Christ, whoever you are, take whatever you want – I'm going to bed"

SOURCE

When Dolph Lundgren began directing his own vehicles in the mid-2000s, I thought it was a big deal. After Seagal and Van Damme fell short with their own directorial debuts a decade earlier, the Swedish Superman’s more economic outings in the video realm seemed like the stabler path for a western action hero to redefine himself as a filmmaker. I never assumed that Dolph would be our answer to Sammo Hung or Jackie Chan, but I still think that the surest way for the classic style of karate B-movies to survive the future is for the stars of yesterday today to become the filmmakers of tomorrow. Disappointingly, Lundgren’s sophomore outing is indistinguishable from the slew of already-undistinguished movies put out by the Nu Image film studio around this time. Expect cliches and limited action in a drab European setting, with some highlights.

The story: Former special forces agent Nikolai Cherenko (Lundgren) is hired to rescue a young woman (Olivia Lee) from the clutches of the same gangster who killed his family (Ivan Petrushinov).

I need to talk about Lundgren’s effort as a filmmaker before anything else. While his directorial debut (The Defender) happened by accident, The Russian Specialist seems to have been his project from the start. It was the first movie he wrote the story for, and there’s a general feeling of investment here not present in the features he’d recently done. That said, the film looks so very much like countless others the studio was producing that I suspect there was a lot of executive meddling afoot. Lundgren has a fair hand for interesting shots and artful cinematography, but they’re lost amid the cheap overexposure, senseless slow motion, and annoyingly sped-up footage. The Bulgarian shooting locations further stifle the originality, with everything looking colorless and boring. Say what you want about Seagal’s On Deadly Ground and JCVD’s The Quest, but at least they left an immediate impression.

Of course, taking a closer look at what may seem bland and unremarkable to others is what we do here at B-Movie Dragons, and sure enough, there are some things that make this one stand out. The best of these, without a doubt, is the casting of Ben Cross. He plays Nikolai’s contact and de facto partner, and darn if he isn’t better than this movie deserves. Cross is up there with Lance Henriksen and John Rhys-Davies as an actor possessing both talent and prestige yet who never fails to offer his time to smaller productions. You may know him for playing Spock’s father in the Star Trek reboot or starring in the Oscar-winning Chariots of Fire, but he also pops up in trash like Species: The Awakening and the odd Dolph Lundgren actioner. Here, at his best, he’s absolutely hilarious and certainly gets the best lines. (“From one old dog to another – shut the fuck up!” he admonishes a noisy German shepherd.) He’s got surprisingly good chemistry with the monosyllabic Lundgren, giving Nikolai’s stereotypical somberness some contrasted weight. Disappointingly, Cross is about it as far as standout performances go. Even though the cast includes several award-winning Bulgarian actors, these have either too little screentime or insufficient material to be memorable. Comedienne Olivia Lee feels particularly underutilized, her character having very little personality and she even less opportunity to express it. (There is an unintentionally funny moment where Nikolai’s handed a photo of her, and it’s the exact same headshot you can find on her IMDb page to this day.)

The action content is good enough that I’m disappointed there’s not more. It’s a decent mix of shootouts, vehicle stunts, and fighting. Lundgren was apprehensive to commit to hand-to-hand action scenes even before he started directing, and as a result, we only get a single match between him and a henchman in a strip club. It’s not even the lead henchman (Raicho Vasilev) – Ben Cross has to fight him during the climax. There’s a gnarly-looking crash into a fountain during a motorcycle chase, and a couple shootouts feature some well-executed choreography. If there were just a few more scenes like this, I would’ve been more satisfied. It’s understandable that Lundgren wasn’t nearly as flexible to shoot action scenes while he was directing all other scenes across multiple countries, but even the bandaid solution of giving his character a team of four mercenaries doesn’t help because they don’t do anything cool.

I’m not entirely sure what the point of the story is. Nikolai clearly must come to terms with his trauma and Lundgren delivers some respectable nonverbal acting to that end, but we don’t find out too much about his mental state and I’m not even convinced that he establishes genuine relationships with anyone. With the exception of one scene, Olivia Lee’s character is also unable to express her feelings. Ben Cross seemingly overcomes his alcoholism by the end, but I’m not sure how. The general thesis is likewise elusive. Lee’s character is being groomed as a sex slave and sex workers in general are protrayed sympathetically, but I’m not even convinced that the film stands behind the most basic notion of “sex trafficking is bad” because it still indulges in some masturbation fodder within the same context. I’m not saying the story sucks, just that it doesn’t commit to much.

Lundgren’s progress as a filmmaker was halted for a long time after he recaptured some of his old stardom with 2010’s The Expendables, but he seems to be returning to the director’s chair these days. If he remains free from the restrictions that made The Russian Specialist so unremarkable, he may yet become a valuable force in maintaining the gritty, physical style of action we know and love. As for this particular film, it’s probably best viewed as a decent but ultimately elementary exercise in the big guy’s movie-making education. Dolph’s biggest fans shouldn’t be without it, but it’s harder to recommend to more casual action devotees. Martial arts nuts like me shouldn’t even bother.

SOURCE

The Russian Specialist (AKA The Mechanik) (2005) Directed by Dolph Lundgren Written by Bryan Edward Hill (screenplay), Dolph Lundgren (story) Starring Dolph Lundgren, Ben Cross, Ivan Petrushinov (Longing for the Wide, Wide World), Olivia Lee (The Olivia Lee Show) Cool cast: Bulgarian stunt pro Raicho Vasilev (Spartacus) plays the lead henchmen. Action regulars Valeri Yordanov (Death Race 4) and Dejan Angelov (Leatherface) are mercenaries. Pop star Maria Ilieva plays the doomed, sympathetic sex worker Natalya. Second unit director Mark Roper was already a director proper, having helmed video and TV vehicles for Bryan Genesse, Joe Lara and Ralf Moeller. Fight consultant and karate master Barry Evans would henceforth be Dolph Lundgren’s personal choreograher for the next ten years. Content warning: Violence against women, child murder, sex trafficking, sexual assault, drug use, extreme violence and gore, alcoholism Title refers to: Both the title on the DVD case (The Russian Specialist) and the one in the movie (The Mechanik) refer to Dolph Lundgren’s character, who’s both a Russian specialist (i.e. special ops) and a mechanic. Cover accuracy: The classic cover, featuring a shotgun-toting Lundgren standing before the gangsters with Russian architecture in the background, is accurate and to the point. The newer cover with starker contrasts and a close-up of Lundgren is also accurate but conveys a comic book aesthetic that the movie doesn’t have. Number of full-length fight scenes: 2 Copyright Millennium Films / Sony Pictures Home Entertainment

[anasatsia98]

The Devil and The Daughter  Chapter Two

"Miss. Johnson."

Johnson, Cora hadn't heard someone call her by that name in a few years and her face flashed with confusion. Her back was turned to the counter, the heat from the open over causing a few beads of sweat to drip down her face. The voice that had called her name… hadn't been one of familiarity. Cora's bakery had opened five years ago and, at first, had been the talk of Small Heath. Not many men had been able to reside in Birmingham—having been drafted for the war—and her bakery was quick to become the number one place where anxious and frightened women came to eat their worries away.

The bakery had two uses: one, a bakery and two, an extra place for the family business. Pol, however, often reminded Cora to make sure the bakery was as realistic and homey as possible. The first year of the draft was hard on Pol, Ada, and Cora, and the bakery had become a safe haven for them as well. Cora knew what the women who came to her bakery were going through and she wanted to make her pastry shop as welcoming and warm as possible. So, she made sure that she was on a first name basis with everyone and that everyone greeted her, and addressed her with her first name.

As the war raged on and discharged, wounded, and disabled soldiers returned home, they too found solace in her shop. She knew each man by the slur of their words and each woman by the pitch of their voice.

So, when Cora heard this voice say her name, she had no recollection of a man with an Irish accent and a voice of higher tone ever stepping foot in her shop. Placing a sweet smile on her face, Cora closed the oven door and set the fresh batch of sugar cookies on the stove top before she turned to face the owner of the voice.

"Yes," Cora asked, resting her hand on the counter and staring up at the man in front of her, "How may I help you?"

He was an older man, his hair greying along with his mustache. Other than that, Cora wouldn't have paid much attention to him if she saw him on the streets or in her shop. The only reason her attention stayed divided on him and not the two policemen standing behind him was because of his eyes.

Two harsh, beady black eyes stared down at Cora, never straying too far from her face. They were far from cold, they stared at her as though she were the one who opened Pandora's box and Cora mentally snickered; with the Shelby's, she may have.

"I've heard that you know much about the Shelby brothers, that you're close with them." Cora almost rolled her eyes. The Inspector made it obvious that he had come here for one reason, and that it wasn't to buy any of her sweets.

Smiling softly, Cora shook her head before letting out a soft sigh—a sigh, Campbell noticed, that held a multitude of sadness, "I was close to them, sir. As in, I was close to them in the past. We had grown up together, our mother's knowing each other quite well, but when they sent to war… I thought them dead until they returned."

A blatant lie, but the Inspector hadn't noticed.

"War changes a man—I knew that before they left, but I didn't realize how much it could change someone. They're not the men I knew, Inspector, they barely visit and stay far away from me… as if they were staying far from their past."

She couldn't tell if the Inspector believed her or not. He kept his gaze cold and emotionless—the perfect poker face. The tension in Cora's body slowly started to ease and the smile on her face became more genuine and realistic, it was only when the Inspector's eyes hardened and narrowed did she know she messed up.

"War does change a man." Campbell agreed as a sick, sadistic smile twisted his features, "But I'm sure that isn't enough of a reason for you to not know your own husband."

Cora's eyes flashed and if Campbell hadn't known better, he would've thought she twitched. But he knew better and he knew the sweet little secrets the Peaky Blinders thought they kept unknown.

Thinking carefully, but keeping the smile on her face, Cora brushed back a strand of blonde hair. The ring resting on the delicate, silver chain that hung around her neck felt heavier than usual and she worried for a moment that it was visible through her white blouse. She knew it was foolish, though. For years, she had learned to cover and conceal the jewelry so that it wasn't visible to the eye.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean." Cora frowned, ignoring the smug feeling that blossomed in her chest as the Inspector's eyes grew darker at her words.

"Of course, you don't, Mrs. Shelby." Campbell hissed out the last name as though it were a deadly poison… so deadly, that even the name itself could kill you, "After all, your husband was gone for five years."

"Thomas and I never married." Cora interrupted, quick to stop the Inspector's tirade, her tone sharp as her eyes were cold, "We planned to be married before he left, but he was drafted earlier than we expected. He left, and we didn't speak for the five years he was gone. I was too scared to write to the man I loved, a man who was basically a walking corpse, and never get a response."

Cora took a shaky breath and closed her eyes, trying to calm her nerves.

"Thomas didn't have time to show his fancy for a girl while trying to save his life and the lives of his comrades. When he came back, the two of us didn't speak. What was there to speak of? Five years is a long time, Inspector. I didn't want to see the changed man he had become, and he didn't want to see a changed woman. Going back to the past is harder than moving on with the future."

The hesitation was clear in the Inspector's eyes no matter how hard he tried to hide it. Cora was a good actress, something that had stayed with her through her childhood, and now all she needed to do was end the conversation—end it while he was still doubting himself.

"I've only recently spoken to him at the Garrison." Hook, line, and sinker, "I left with him once because there had been an outburst from a formal soldier and he didn't want me to walk alone. You can ask the barman if you doubt me."

"The how come you were spotted leaving your bakery with him a day ago?" Campbell pressed, glaring into Cora's ethereal blue eyes. She refused to turn away from his gaze, knowing that men like him thrived from fear.

"Arthur got up pretty badly and I know how to stitch someone up—my mother was a nurse and I took some nursing classes during the war. He took me to their house, had me stitch Arthur up, and then kicked me out. Thomas refused t tell me what had happened. No one would. I know nothing of what's going on within that family, Inspector Campbell. You're asking the wrong person."

Though the Inspector's predatory gaze didn't leave her form, Cora refused to acknowledge it. She knew he was searching for a sign to signify that she was lying: a twitch, sharp intake, tapping fingers, anything. But, to his disappointment, Cora stood perfectly posed. Her shoulders remained relaxed, her eyes soft, and the warm smile never leaving her face. She remained posed for the few minutes that he watched her, merely blinking when he turned and stalked out towards the door.

Cora watched as he paused, one hand on the door.

"Turn the place upside down."

The two policemen that had been by his side their entire meeting wasted no time in grabbing tables and chairs and throwing them to the ground. Sighing, Cora closed her eyes as the thuds and crashes echoed in her ear before she turned around and went back to place the cookies in the display case.

_______________________________________________________________________

Her hands were littered with small shards of glass and Cora pursed her lips at the irritated red glow that was emitting. Calmly picking the thin, small shards, she stood lazily next to Tommy, her back resting against the door of Polly's office. She had managed to clean the mess the coppers had made in record time, but her hands weren't spared from the quick work. Cuts, scrapes, and splinters littered her palms; each representing her lack of focus and hast. Cora was aware of Tommy's cold gaze on her but she pushed it to the back of her mind, her face scrunching up as she pulled out a particularly long shard of glass out of her hand. Quickly, she brought her hand to her mouth before any blood could drip to the floor, wincing at the sharp, metallic taste.

"The coppers told everyone Arthur had agreed to t it when he was arrested," Pol informed them, and Cora looked at up at her, "They said the Peaky Blinders had cleared out the fair to let them do it."

"I never said nothing to that copper about smashing up bloody houses." Arthur fumed, Cora looking at Tommy as a sigh left his lips before he took a drag of his cigarette.

"All right. Which pubs did they do?" Tommy asked as Cora pulled her hand away from her mouth, inspecting the small—but deep—cut that was visible for a few seconds before blood quickly pooled out and around it.

"The Guns, the Chain, the Marquis. All the ones that pay you to protect them." Pol listed before taking a long drag from her cigarette, blowing out the smoke as she spoke, "Only one they didn't touch was the Garrison. Make sure people think we were in on it. He's smart, this copper."

"Not quite," Cora looked up from her hand, her blue eyes skimming across the faces in the room, "He trashed the bakery; the one place people know Tommy would never touch. If they see that the bakery got fucked up, then they'll most likely know the Peaky Blinders weren't in on it."

"You're saying he doesn't know?" Pol questioned, a dumbfounded look on her face and Cora nodded, her eyes meeting Tommy's for a brief moment.

"Campbell knows that I have some relation to you, but he doesn't think it's a strong one. I made it clear that after the war, we cut connections and that this reunion is only recent." She explained. Cora wasn't bothered by the silence that followed. The information that she had just educated them with was valuable, much too valuable for them to forget or misuse.

Pol's brusque voice cut through the silence of the room, bringing the men out of their thoughts, "Go on, drink your beers, get out. You better show people you are still the cocks of the walk."

Grumbling to his feet, John shot his older brother a sly glare before opening the door to the room, Landlow, Smith, and Thomson following shortly after.

"Hand out some cash to the landlords of the pubs," Tommy called to the four of them. Striking a match, he brought it to the cigarette that rested between his lips, "Pay some veterans to fix the places up."

Lagging behind the rest of the group, Cora watched as Arthur pulled on his tweed jacket before grabbing his cap off the table in front of him. She knew that with his position in the business being compromised, he wanted to make sure that Tommy wasn't getting to know any extra information and that no secrets were being kept from him.

"So, what about you, Tommy?" He asked, fixing the flaps of his jacket and placing the cap on his head.

"I have to go to Charlie's to stable the horse," Tommy took a long drag from his cigarette, not bothering to look at his brother, "She looked footsore in the box."

Cora softly ran her thumb over her left palm as she checked for any bumps of glass or splinters she could've missed. She knew her best chance of checking her hand was at home where she had tweezers that could pull out small splinters, but she didn't know when she'd be heading back home. She didn't want the wounds to fester any longer than they had to.

"So you're sure Campbell knows nothing," Cora looked up at Pol's voice and watched as she walked towards her and Tommy, taking a seat in front of the two.

"Positive," Cora confirmed, clasping her hands together and holding them in front of her as Tommy walked to stand slightly behind her, his hand slipping around her waist as he pulled her towards him.

"And the ring?" Pol pressed, her eyes dropping to Cora's left hand and glancing up at her when she saw that it was bare.

"I don't wear it that much anymore," Cora said and she pulled the silver chain out from under her blouse, the ring falling freely against her chest. Cora adored the ring. It was simple in its beauty: a thin band of silver with a small, teardrop-shaped diamond resting in the middle. When Tommy had given it to her, he told her that it reminded him of her. Simple but remarkably elegant, "It's bad for business."

"That's not what I like to hear, Cora," Tommy muttered, his dark blue eyes meeting hers as they flashed a soft green in the sunlight. Cora grinned at him cheekily and reached up a hand to squeeze the ring.

"I'm just joking, love. In all actuality, I don't want to ruin it with all the baking I do. Dough it very hard to get out of the cracks and crevices."

Cora felt Pol's eyes on her and Tommy. During the war, Pol would often express her sorrow to Cora—her sorrow of Cora's relationship with Tommy. It became common for Pol to mutter 'if only it were a different time' under her breath when she cradled a sobbing Cora. Cora didn't disagree either and often wondered herself how things would've been different if she and Tommy had married earlier if Tommy didn't go to war, if his mother was still alive, if her mother was still alive, the list was endless.

Reaching an arm across her waist, Cora slid her small, soft hand over Tommy's rather large, calloused ones. Squeezing it, she stepped out of his embrace and grabbed her coat, shrugging it on.

"I best be going now, wouldn't want Campbell's dogs to get too suspicious if I'm gone for too long, would we?"

Cora smiled softly before she walked out the door and down the hall. She didn't want to go… really, she didn't. She and Tommy hadn't had any time together since his return. He had closed himself for the first three months and refused to see Cora. She didn't blame him at first, she knew that after everything he's seen, he needed time. But three months turned to six and Cora decided she had enough.

Before the mess with the guns, before the mess with Campbell, before his father left and his mother died, Cora and Tommy told each other everything.

They were their own special Yin and Yang.

Stepping outside, the gentle wind blew Cora's hair so that it danced around her to an unheard tune. The streets had regained their normality: kids shouting, people talking, workers working; and yet, as she walked down the road, it seemed as though the people parted for her. Arriving at her shop, she unlocked the door and stepped inside before shrugging off her coat and hanging it up. Bending her head slightly, Cora slid on her apron, tying it as she walked behind the counter and grabbing the fresh dough from the counter.

Her mind was blank as she began to knead the dough, not knowing exactly what to think about. Cora grabbed the Dutch oven from the counter behind her and sprinkled flour onto the bottom. She hurriedly rolled the dough into a ball before dropping it into the Dutch oven and placing it into the oven itself.

It was only when she turned back around she noticed the tip of a white envelope peeking out from underneath the coatrack that was placed near the door. She wasn't going to lie; she had been disappointed when she hadn't seen the envelope earlier that day. Hurrying around the counter, Cora pulled the envelope out and ripped it open, a laugh echoing around the silent room.

The chicken-scratch handwriting was barely legible, but Cora had spent a year trying to decipher it.

What did the baker's wife catch him doing when she got home?

Masterbaking.

_______________________________________________________________________

By the time dusk had rolled around, Finn had burst through the door and bounded towards her counter. Cora was expecting Finn to beg for a cookie or any pastry, and she was already reaching into her display case to grab a few sugar cookies when he jumped up onto her counter.

"Hey," Cora barked, her eyes widening in shock at Finn's actions and her face twisting in disgust. That boy ran from the stables to the other side of town in those shoes and there was no way in hell he was allowed to put them on her counter, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"We're having a fire," Finn stated as he reached forward and grabbed the picture of the king that hung on the wall. Cora's brows furrowed in confusion, mouthing 'what-the-fuck' as she watched Finn turn back around.

"Oh, no you don't." Cora scolded, gently grabbing Finn's arm and leading him around the counter and towards the door, "And where is this fire?"

"Front of the Garrison," Finn's words slurred and Cora opened the door, "You coming?"

Cora sighed as she handed Finn the three cookies she snagged for him, "I'll be there in a few."

"Thanks, Cora!" Finn beamed, grabbing the cookies and taking off down the street. Cora sighed, closing the door, and scratched her forehead as she closed the door and made her way back towards the oven.

Grabbing out the loaf, she tossed it on the stovetop and took off her apron before sliding on her coat. Cora twisted the doorknob twice after she locked her door and made her way down the street, taking note of the people who rushed past her. The glow of the fire traveled to three houses in front of her, and Cora mentally gave a hand to the Blinders. Whatever game they were playing, they weren't playing cautiously. They wanted a show for Campbell to see.

The pyre was littered with the king's photos and Cora winced at the bright light that illuminated. It wasn't hard to make her way to the Shelby's—they stood closes to the fire, facing the Garrison.

"What've you got here?" Cora called as she slid next to Arthur, the warmth emitting from the fire reminding her of the rush of heat that hit her in the face when she opened the oven.

"Cora!" Arthur cried, taking a swig from the whiskey bottle in his hand and swinging his arm over her shoulder, "I'm so glad you could join us."

"Is this a celebration, Arthur?" Cora teased, feeling Tommy's gaze on her for a second before Arthur let out a booming laugh.

"You're damn right, it is."

Shaking her head, Cora shook her head even though the smile on her face betrayed her. Maybe it was her gypsy blood or maybe it was her intuition, but Cora had a feeling that this wasn't the storm that was blowing to Birmingham, it was just the wind that was guiding it to its destination.

[celtics534]

Castle on the Hill

Presenting Castle on the Hill! This is my @tropewizardtournament fic and let me tell you it’s a doozy! It’s a Muggle AU that uses the tropes of:  damsel in distress(lightly), friends to lovers, eloping, and accidental pregnancy. @gryffindormischief and @thedistantdusk were amazing and helped me so much with this fic. Thanks, guys!!!

Also read on: FF.net or AO3

September 1st, 2010. Lydford Primary School. Ages 11 and 10

 Harry stared at Dudley as rage filled his veins. His cousin had been on a vendetta all week, encouraging a new level of vigor into Dudley’s favorite game: Harry Hunting.

 Because of this, Harry chose an isolated portion of the schoolyard to eat his lunch, hoping that his cousin wouldn’t think about him while food was an option. But of course, things weren’t going plan. Dudley had just come right up to him (his newfound goonies right behind) and smashed Harry’s pitiful lunch to the ground.

  It’s always been like this , Harry thought bitterly. His entire educational career hadn’t really been focused on learning maths or English. It had been escaping Dudley and his cronies. Now, here he was, in a brand new school (his uncle had just made the move to Lydford for a promotion) and he was still the “weird skinny kid” that Dudley enjoyed beat up. Apparently, the first day at a new school hadn’t changed anything.

 “Just leave me alone,” Harry yelled, fists clenched. The dream of an asteroid falling from the sky and crushing his cousin became more appealing by the second.  

 “Or what?” Dudley laughed cruelly as he moved in closer. Harry got ready for the punch, ready to dodge and aim a good kick at Dudley’s balls. That was until a small red-headed girl moved between Harry and his cousin.

 “Leave him alone, you tosser.” The girl’s voice was deadly serious. From his view, Harry could see her shoulders were tense: She was prepared for a fight.

 Dudley took a moment to recover from the shock of a new contender in the ring. But he clearly decided that it didn’t matter that it was a girl or she was a good few inches shorter than him. A evil grin crossed his face as he closed the gap between himself and the red-head until.

  Smack!

Harry couldn’t believe his eyes when the girl's hand wound back, ready to strike again. Dudley staggered back into his first mate, Piers, knocking them both off tilt.

 “There’s more where that came from!” She sounded tough, Harry noted, but the girl’s body shook ever so slightly, the only outer sign of trepidation. Given the enraged expression on her face, though, Harry reckoned that the trembling could just as easily be from the effort of keeping her anger pent up. This was a feeling Harry knew well.

 Dudley regained himself and Harry could see the real fury in his cousin’s  eyes… and that finally sprung Harry from his stupor. He stepped beside the girl, ready to take whatever blow Dudley aimed, but then Dudley’s gaze fixed on something over their shoulders. His anger changed to fear as he took a half step backward. He quickly glanced at Harry, giving him a nasty snarl, before turning and running with his friends on his heels.

 Harry turned to see two older boys watching the scene, their arms crossed over their chests. They had identical grins and faces.

 “Good one, Gin-Gin.” One of the twins slapped the girl’s shoulder. “That git never saw it coming.”

 “Good thing you were here to save this damsel in distress,” the other joked. He held out his hand to Harry. “I’m George and this is my twin, Fred. And your savior over there is our little sister, Ginny.”  

 Harry took the offering and nodded at the other twin before turning towards Ginny. “Why did you do it?”

 Ginny gave him a smile that showed off a missing tooth. “I can’t stand a bully.” She tilted her chin in defiance. “He just moved here and he’s already pushed my best friend Luna into the mud, and that was just at the park. I was more than happy to have a go at him.”

 “Yeah, she ran right over here the minute we entered the yard,” Fred chuckled. “And here we promised we’d get you to school safe and sound.”

 “Technically, she was on the premises,” George offered, his head tilted to the side. “We did get her from the doctor’s to here with no issue, and that’s all we promised Mum.”

 Fred gave his bother an approving nod. “Right you are, George. Right you are. Which means this never needs to be mentioned to Mum. All in agreement, say ‘aye.’”

 The three siblings claimed solidarity at once. When Harry didn’t say anything, all eyes turned on him.

 Ginny nudged him while George said, “Well?”

 Harry beamed at the group before muttering his own concurrence.

  XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

  August 21st, 2016. Lydford Castle. Ages 16 and 15.

 Ginny took another swig from the contraband booze. “Come on, Potter!” she crooned, tipping the bottle of Irish whiskey in his direction. “I need you to get on my level because I’m not talking to you until you’re pissed.”

 Harry snorted and grabbed the bottle. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to take advantage of me in my intoxicated state.”

 “Only in your dreams.”

 It had been like this since they were kids. Ginny and him. Harry and Ginny. Thick as thieves.  The best duo since Sherlock and Watson. Since the day Ginny stood up to Dudley, Harry hadn’t gone more than a week without seeing her. She was his best friend, despite being a year younger.

 Living in a small village, they had plenty of country to explore. Over the course of their friendship, they had done a lot-- fort building, countless football games in the back gardens, swimming in the Weasley’s pond and, Harry’s personal favorite, relaxing on the grounds by the ruined Lydford Castle.  

 As they aged, their activities became more extreme, and by extreme that just meant adding drinks into the mix. Now, they lay on the grass in their spot--well, Harry called the ruined castle on the hill “their spot.” It was where they went whenever they needed to talk. Truly talk. Whoever called the conference was in charge of getting the spirits, so Ginny had knicked a bottle from her older brother’s hidden stock.

 Harry grabbed the bottle and let the burning liquid slide down his throat. He handed it back at her prompting. “Alright spill, Weasley.”

 Ginny didn’t speak right away, opting for another swig. Finally, she took a deep breath and said, “Dean made a move on me.”

 Harry’s eyebrows rose. Dean, Ginny’s boyfriend, had pissed him off since day one. It was clear Dean didn’t like the fact that one of Ginny’s best friends was a bloke, so he had tried to intimidate Harry into backing off. Of course, Harry had told his classmate to fuck off; he wouldn’t stop talking to his best friend.

 “Okay,” Harry said slowly as he sat up to looked at her. In the limited light of the night sky, her complexion had darkened with a blush. “Was he a gentleman about it?”

 It was meant to be a joke, but when Ginny wouldn’t meet his eyes, Harry’s blood turned to ice in his veins. His hands fisted into the grass.

 “What did he do?” Harry wasn’t quite sure why his voice sounded so calm when he could see red.

 “He... he just moved a little too fast.” Ginny stuttered, but when she took a breath, her voice came back strong. “I told him off, but it made him pissy.” She let out a huff. “Why he was pissy, I’ll never understand.”

 “He listened to you, right?” Still, Harry sounded calm and collected, but on the inside, he was anything but.

 “Yeah, but …” Ginny bit her lower lip. “I don’t know how to describe it.”

 Harry shifted so his arm rested over her shoulder and they were side by side. As his skin pressed against hers, Ginny’s body slackened, her head falling to the crook of his neck. They stayed like that for a while, both finding comfort in each other.

 “Thanks, Harry,” Ginny said softly once she drew her head back.

 “Any time, Gin. I’ll always be there for you.” Harry pressed a kiss to the top of her head. He cleared his throat. “So, does Dean have a broken nose?”

 Harry turned in time to see a smile spread across Ginny’s face.. “And a sore pair of balls.”

 “Good, saves me the trouble.”

  XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

  May 5th, 2017. Lydford Castle. Ages 16 and 15

 Harry was going crazy, Ginny was sure of it. His usual disheveled hair had lost any form of organization. His already thin lips were pressed in an almost indistinguishable line.

 “Harry, if you sigh one more time,” Seamus muttered, smacking Harry’s arm, “I’ll aim for your nose next.”  

 Ginny snorted at their fellow study buddy. They had driven straight from school to the castle grounds in an attempt to find a peaceful study spot. The group consisted of Ginny, Harry, Seamus (who had recently moved from Ireland to England) and Hannah (a girl Ginny had become friends with).

 “I can’t, mate,” Harry moaned, flopping backward into the grass. “I need to pick up my science grade or I won’t be able to pass Ms. Sprout’s class, and if I don’t pass her class, I’ll never be able to join the academy.”

 “Harry, I love you, but you’re being overdramatic again.” Ginny moved to lie beside him.

 He turned to look at her. “Am I, Gin?” He sounded hysterical. It was Harry’s dream to join the Army Air Corps after completing his A levels. He wanted to do something bigger with his life than live in a small village. “Am I?”

 Harry’s companions spoke as one: “Yes!”

 Harry huffed in annoyance, and Ginny smiled. He is such a drama queen. She reached between them and flicked Harry’s nose. “Harry, you’re fine. You just need to relax. What are you struggling with?”

 Harry’s nose wrinkled at the abuse, but his eyes told Ginny that he didn’t truly mind her touch. “Alpha decay.”

 “Alright, hand me your book. We’re gonna read about it together.”

 “Really?” Harry blinked at her in surprise. stared in shock. “What about your paper?”

 Ginny waved a dismissive hand. “Please, I can complete that in my sleep.”

 “Sounds like your dreams are nightmares to me,” Seamus muttered. Hannah smacked his arm.

 Harry ignored them both, his eyes focused solely on Ginny. Something started to flutter in Ginny’s stomach under his intense scrutiny.

 “You’re the best, Gin.” Harry rolled sideways to peck her cheek before sitting up. The fluttering she’d felt before expanded to a throbbing pulse up into Ginny’s chest, but she ignored it. She knew what it meant, but she would not--could not-- let her mind drift there.

 So she pushed that damn feeling away, just as she had countless times before. “Anything for you, luv.”

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  

  August 15th, 2017. Lydford. Ages 17 and 16

 Ginny reached across the console and violently turned the volume knob. “This song is still amazing!” she shouted over the crooning on the radio.

 Harry tapped his hand on the steering wheel to the beat. Ginny was right, of course. Ed Sheeran had become a well-known name over the past few years and Thinking Out Loud was honestly still one of Harry’s favorite songs by the ginger.

 They were driving to nowhere in particular. Just him and Ginny. When Ginny had texted with:, Drive. 5 minutes , Harry had grabbed his keys and walked out the front door without hesitation.

 Ginny sang along with the radio, her voice overpowering the original artist. Her performance became more dramatic as the song came to its end. Ginny held up her hands as she if we're reenacting a Shakespearean play.  

  So baby now Take me into your loving arms Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars Oh darling, place your head on my beating heart I'm thinking out loud That maybe we found love right where we are

 “Sometimes I forget about that song.” Ginny laughed as the final note played.

 “But that never stops you from giving the performance of a lifetime,” Harry said, turning down the radio.

 “Of course not!” Ginny acted affronted, her hand over her heart. “I always give one-hundred and ten percent.”

 “That's true.” He let the music take over the car again. They drove with no real destination. Harry had bought his vehicle with money from his summer jobs. His uncle would never buy him a shiny car as he had done for Dudley. It wasn’t great, but it got from point A to point B without too many issues.

 “This time next year, you’re gonna be at Basic.” Ginny finally spoke, her voice barely detectable over the radio. Harry chanced a glance off the road to look at her. She was watching out the side window, watching the sights pass them in a blur.

 “Gin.” Harry’s throat seemed to close on itself. He wanted to tell her everything would be fine. That nothing could come between them, but the words seemed too little…

 He reached across the console and squeezed her hand. When she returned his pressure, Harry knew Ginny understood.  

 “You and me, Harry.”

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  

  December 31st, 2017. Weasley’s Cottage. Ages 17 and 16

 Ginny twisted her cup in her hands, making the dark Ribena spin clockwise. She couldn’t take her eyes off them… Him , if she was being honest. Hate was a strong word in Ginny’s book, but God if there was anyone she hated, it was Chang.

 Cho Chang was not who Harry Potter belonged with! Though, Ginny refused to be honest with herself and admit who she thought was Harry’s perfect match, because that was its own can of worms. But it wasn’t Chang and her snooty, girly, moody, demanding attitude. Of course, Harry was blind to her numerous faults, due to a thing called snogging. A girl lets you shove your tongue down her throat, and everything wrong with her takes a backseat.

 Ginny had been watching this disease that Harry called a relationship for the past two months and fuck, Ginny was near her wit's end. Chang had never said it out loud, but Ginny knew the dark-haired woman hated her right back.

 From her corner of the room, Ginny watched Chang try to flatten Harry’s hair. A feral growl started to rise from Ginny’s throat, and she just managed to hold it back. Fuck ! She really did have it bad. There was no doubt she fancied her best friend… and there he was, lip-locked with Miss Fussy.

 “You could just tell him.” George plopped down beside her, a bowl of crisps in his hand.

 Playing dumb seemed like the safest option. “Tell who what?”

 George rolled his eyes. “Please, girl , do I look blind to you?”

 “No, but clearly you’re hard of hearing.”

 “Eh?” George gave her a puzzled look before laughing and raising his hand up to where his left ear used to be. “Touche.”

 That had been an odd day… like who loses an ear? But Ginny could remember two years ago when they waited in a hospital waiting room praying for news. Harry had sat with her, his grip on her hand holding her to Earth.  

 “Your cheek won’t get you out of this, though.” George elbowed her. “Come on, Ginny, you’ve been in love with him for years.”

 She wanted to deny it. There was an overwhelming desire to say, “No. You,” and stick her tongue out at her brother, but she couldn’t straight out lie anymore. Tonight had solidified it for her. Watching Harry with… her (she didn’t even deserve a name anymore) was brutal.

 So instead of providing a false claim, Ginny tilted her neck so her head rested on her brother’s shoulder. He wrapped one arm around her and gave her a little squeeze.

 “I promise you, Ginny,” George spoke quietly as the others counted along with the television screen, “you won’t regret telling him. This is your year.”

 Ginny made sure not to look at Harry as the countdown reached zero. “I hope so.”

  XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

  April 10th, 2018, Lydford Castle. Ages 17 and 16

 He really tried not to stare, but his eyes refused to follow his brain’s orders. Harry couldn’t seem to stop staring at his best friend. She was just… beautiful wasn’t a strong enough word. Fuck ! This wasn't supposed to happen! A bloke should be able to be best friends with a girl without falling madly in love with her!

 Of course, that assumption wasn’t made with the likes of Ginny Weasley in mind.

 It had changed everything… the moment he realized… everything . Ironically it was his ex, Cho, who helped him to understand how deep he was in. From the very beginning, Cho had complained about Harry wanting to spend more time with Ginny than her, but it wasn’t until she’d yelled at him for caring more about another woman that Harry had finally realized it himself. Harry wasn’t able to deny it: He did care about Ginny more than Cho. And once he’d made that conclusion, his brain had started connecting dots.

 Right then and there, he’d broken up with Cho. Harry had hated the tears, the accusing glare, the claim he must have been cheating on her. He hadn’t physically cheated, but he couldn’t truly defend himself when mentally he had never really been with Cho.

 It had always been Ginny.

 The girl in question lay with her back resting on the cold wall of Lydford Castle, her focus on the setting sun. Ever since he’d broken up with Cho three months ago, Harry had tried to gather the courage to tell Ginny how he felt-- but the fear of losing his best friend had choked him up every time he tried.

 “You know.” Ginny broke Harry from his daydream, their arms wrapped around each other. He mentally shook himself to focus on her words. “Sometimes I wonder why more people don’t seem to come here.”

 “What do you mean?” Harry’s question made Ginny turn her head away from the sky.  

 She shrugged. “I don’t know, this spot just seems perfect. So why don’t more people relax up here?”

 Harry didn’t honestly know, but she was right. They rarely ran into anyone on the far side of the ruins. It really was their spot. “Maybe everyone knows we rule this castle.”

 Ginny laughed. “Does that make me your queen?”

  In every meaning of the word , Harry thought, but instead said, “Or maybe my court jester.”

 “Even better.” Ginny scooted sideways along the wall, placing their bodies closer. “Queens have too many rules to follow.”

 She rested her head on his shoulder, allowing an intoxicating scent of what Harry thought was jasmine fill his lungs. He had to assume it was her shampoo, or maybe it was just Ginny...

 He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and turned to watch the sun disappear.  

  XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

  May 23rd, 2018. Okehampton College/Allie Kallon’s house. Ages 17 and 16

 Ginny passed to Allie with a hard kick. The season had been long and hard, but reaching the finals had been worth it. The team had been fighting tooth and nail for this moment, and with only a minute of regular play remaining, Ginny was determined to prevent a tie.

 Allie dodged a tackle and passed back to Ginny. There was only the goalkeeper between Ginny and the goal. With a fake glance at the left pocket, Ginny shot the ball towards the right.

 The keeper fell for the tactic and dove left as the ball flew right. Ginny’s teammates swarmed her as she cheered. The ref’s whistle called off the celebration. They had two minutes of penalty time to play and as long as their defense held off an onslaught…

 The two minutes passed by in a blur. And then, somehow, Ginny had found herself at a victory party, drink in hand. She had danced with her teammates, cheered with the crowd anytime someone mentioned the victory and held the cup that showed all their hard work.

 But something had been nagging at Ginny the entire time. Harry hadn’t been there to see her score the winning goal. He had been stuck at work and promised to come to Allie’s as soon as he was out.

 It was annoying that she always looked for him. No matter what the situation was, she always wanted him there-- which would present a problem in a few months when he was gone for months on end.

  Fuck, the last few months had driven her almost insane. There was a tension between them, and Ginny was nearly certain it was the kind of tension that opened up a big can of worms.

 Worms she was more than willing to deal with.

 The music paused as the song changed from one to another, and in the temporary silence, the front door opened. Harry walked into the living room, still in his uniform and looking slightly disheveled… but in her eyes, he was incredible.

 Ginny watched his gaze go over the entire room until it landed on her, and it was like the room tunneled. Her focus sought the quickest way to him and it Harry did the same. They moved towards one another, and when Ginny wrapped her arms around his neck for a hug, she was surprised to feel his lips descend on hers.

 Ginny’s eyes closed of their own accord as she tightened her hold, pulling Harry closer to her. Time lost all meaning as she let the feeling of him absorb her.

 Finally, Harry pulled his mouth away. He pressed his forehead to hers and met her eyes. “I hope that was okay.”

 Ginny couldn’t stop the smile from breaking out on her recently kissed lips. “More than.” And without another word, she kissed him again.  

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  July 15th, 2017. Lydford Castle. Ages 17 and 16.

 Harry moved his lips down Ginny’s neck, focusing on the racing pulse point. Her fingernails grazed along his bare back, egging him on. It had been like this for the past two months. They just couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. Just went swimming? A snog session by the pond seemed in order. Just parked the car after a long drive? The backseat sure looked empty. In other words, Harry was so randy he thought he might die.

 He didn’t want to pressure Ginny. No, he refused to be one to initiate the next step in their relationship… but fuck !  

 “Harry?” Ginny’s voice pulled his lips from a little scar she had on her collarbone.

 “Hmm?” He kissed her again.

 Her hand moved to his chin and tilted his eyes to hers. “You're leaving in two weeks.”

 Well, that was one way to cool him off. Harry rolled off her, onto the grass. “Yeah… I am.”

 “I just.” Ginny cut herself off, and though the only light source was the quarter moon, Harry could see her biting her lower lip. “Everything has changed, don’t you think?”

 “In what way?” Harry sat up and she followed his example. He watched her chest rise and fall as she sucked in a large breath.

 “You and me… I guess what I’m saying is I know you're gonna be away for a while, but I've got no plans at all to leave. Leave you, that is.” The way she looked in that moment… Harry wanted it ingrained into his memory so he could call upon it whenever he was homesick. Because that’s what Ginny was: his home.

 He leaned forward and kissed her softly, letting his lips linger. Then he stood, his bare toes weaving between the grass blades. “Come on.” He offered her a hand up, which she accepted with a confused look.

 Using his free hand, Harry reached into his pocket and drew out his phone. With a couple of quick button pushes, he opened up his music app and made a song play.

 A gentle guitar riff started while Harry placed the phone onto the ground. It was a song they had both fallen in love with. Now it was on all their collaborative playlists.

 He took her into his arms as the singer started to speak.

  Settle down with me

Cover me up, cuddle me in

Lie down with me

And hold me in your arms

 He swayed them to the slow beat. Ginny pressed her lips to his neck before letting her head rest over his heart. No words were spoken between them, but Harry knew they had an understanding.

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  July 29th, 2018. Weasley’s Cottage. Ages 17 and 16.

 Ginny listened to the steady beat of Harry’s heart as they lay atop her covers. They had been like this for a while. Sitting side by side. Harry’s arm holding her close and Ginny enjoying the feel of him being there, with her… at least for another thirteen days. Then he was gone for ten months, only Skype calls and phone conversations to satisfy their desires to talk.

 It was gonna fucking suck. Ginny had no doubt it was gonna be some of the hardest months of her life, thoughten months was better than the eighteen required to be a certified pilot. Fuck. She wasn’t gonna think about that right now.   

 “Ginny?” Harry kissed the top of her head.

 “Yeah?”

 “Do you think there's any of that cake left?”

 Ginny laughed. That was all it took to pull her from her own mind, and he always seemed to know when she needed him to do that. She moved so she straddled him. His hands slowly ran down her sides to squeeze her waist. “Do you still want to talk about cake?” She nipped at his lower lip.

 “I think I can be persuaded to switch topics.” Harry let his hands start to wander over her back, making light circles as he progressed up her spine. His lips moved to her neck making Ginny want it all , everything he had to offer-- and she knew it was time.

 It had been plaguing her mind over the last few days. Was she ready to sleep with Harry? A lot of the girls in her class had talked about it, but she hadn’t thought herself ready… that was until she and Harry had been snogging heavily and she had felt his arousal on her leg. When that had happened with Dean, she had backed off immediately, but with Harry… she hadn’t wanted him to stop. She trusted Harry with everything, including this.      

 “Harry?”

 “Hmm?” He didn’t take his mouth from her skin.

 “I think my parents left to go shopping.”

 “Uh-hm.”

  Okay, so the obvious subtle hints she had seen on television wouldn’t do. She tore back from him, and Harry sat up, trying to follow her. He gave her a quizzical look that changed to delight as she grabbed at the hem of his shirt. She took off the offending garment and quickly made hers follow.

 They had gone this far before, both exposed from the waist up, but Ginny was determined for more. When she reached for his belt, his hands grabbed hers. Their eyes met, Harry’s asking all the right questions.

 Ginny kissed him softly. “Just follow my lead.”

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  August 11th, 2018. Harry’s Temporary Flat. Ages 18 and 17.

 Harry held her as close as he could. He never wanted to let go. In less than twelve hours, he would be gone and wouldn’t be able to hold her, talk to her whenever he wanted, kiss her whenever he craved, or make love with her like they just had.

 Over the last two weeks, they had spent every possible moment together. Between random summer drives, meeting at his temporary residence (an old teacher was allowing Harry to let out his garage flat until he left for Basic), and stargazing at the castle, Harry had only been apart from Ginny for a maximum of eight hours a day. Even then, that time apart was simply because  Ginny didn’t want to test her parents’ sixth sense of knowing if their children were asleep in their own beds.

 But now after they had spent the entire day at Ginny’s house celebrating her birthday with her family, they were finally alone at his place. Harry had made her a special cake. It really hadn’t tasted that good, but Ginny loved it all the same. Then they’d sat in his bed, sharing bites of the pitiful (yet considerate) desert while ignoring the ticking clock.

 “You know.” Harry moved now empty plate to the floor. “I never gave you my gift.”

 “I thought that… lovely cake was my gift.” Ginny smirked as he shook his head.

 “Of course not.” He scoffed. “I would be a rather pathetic boyfriend if that cake, if you can call it that, was the only thing I got you.” He leaned off the mattress and reached into the little stand that sat beside the bed. He pulled out a long silver chain with a circle that dangled at the bottom.

 Harry rolled back so his torso was aligned with hers. He put the necklace into the palm of his hand. Upon further inspection, Ginny was able to see the circle had a simple yet intricate design all along the outside. Harry used his thumb to press a tiny button on the bottom of the circle; the locket opened wide, revealing a picture of them.

 It was one of his favorite pictures. He was fourteen and Ginny had just turned thirteen. Their backs were to the camera as they watched the sunset over Lydford Castle. It had been the first time they’d gone there with a few friends (who had taken the photo).

 The young duo had sat on the grass side by side, Ginny’s head rested on Harry’s shoulder, not a care in the world. It was one of Harry’s fondest memories.

 Ginny tore her eyes from the picture. Using her hand to turn his face to hers. “Thank you.” She kissed him hard, and just like that moment caught on the photo, nothing mattered but them.

 “I love you, Gin.” He had said it a million times over the years, but this was a different sort of love, and he was sure she knew it and felt it too; when she reconnected their lips and pushed him back into the pillows, everything felt so right.

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 October 31st, 2018. Sandhurst Dorm. Ages 18 and 17.  

 “Hey!” Harry beamed at Ginny through the computer screen. It had been a long two (nearly three) months without much contact. Between her school assignments and his training, conversations had been short, but vital for both of them.

 They made sure to have at least one Skype session per month and to text during the week. Of course, that wasn’t enough --nothing would ever be enough-- but it worked.

 “Hello, luv.” Ginny rested her chin on her hand. “How are you doing this week?”

 “Broke my record on the course.” Harry glowed with pride, and what Ginny assumed was a little sweat. His hair was crazed and his cheeks had a healthy flush to them.

 Ginny had never seen a sexier man. “Nicely done! I’m sure Theo is pushing to beat you again.”

 Theo Nott had become Harry’s closest friend at Sandhurst. At first, Harry had thought he was a dick, but once you got past the haughty attitude, Theo was a decent bloke.

 “Yeah, he thinks he’s gonna beat my record by no less than two minutes. I told him magic wasn’t real and he should get used to eating my dust.”

 Ginny snorted. “Cheeky Harry strikes again.”   

 Harry shrugged. “He never really left.”

 Their easy chatter lulled into a comfortable silence. Harry was more than content to just look at Ginny. He had started memorizing the freckles on her nose. One, two, a cluster of four by the bridge…

 “I was thinking -” Harry’s attention dropped to Ginny’s mouth as she spoke. Oh, how I miss those lips .

 “Sorry.” He shook himself from a vivid yet incredible daydream of what those lips could be doing to him if he were there.

 The smirk that curled on her mouth told him she knew where his mind had been. “I was saying how I was planning on bringing flowers to your parents’ grave tomorrow because you won’t be able to go to the churchyard.”

 Harry had no words. He had already accepted that he wouldn’t be able to place flowers on his parents’ grave on the anniversary of their murder.

 When he was sixteen, Harry had found out the reason his parents had died when he was barely one. Their friend Peter (if you could call him a “friend”) had been inducted into a cult where a mad man told his followers that they needed to kill someone they truly loved to reach their true potential. Peter had been naive enough to believe this -- and he had killed his first friend and his wife. Peter likely would have killed Harry, too, but Sirius Black (Harry’s godfather and James’ best friend) had arrived in the nick of time, and killed Peter himself. Unfortunately, Sirius had also been wrongly accused of the deaths of Lily and James, and he’d spent the next twelve years in prison until he’d been killed in a fight two weeks before his re-trial had been scheduled to begin.

 Harry had found all that out through another one of his father’s friends, Remus. And then he had shared it all with Ginny. From that moment on, they had gone to the little village of Godric's Hollow every Hallow’s Eve. He hadn’t even considered Ginny going alone. If he wasn’t already madly in love with her…

 “Thank you, Gin.” His voice sounded as if he had swallowed a cup of sand.

 She gave him that smile that he connected to love… that he related to her.

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 December 31st, 2018.Weasley Cottage. Ages 18 and 17.  

 “So, have you talked with Harry lately?” George asked, taking the empty cushion beside Ginny.

 Ginny grinned remembering the conversation she had with her boyfriend earlier that day. “Yeah, he’s doing well.”

 “I’m sure you can’t wait for him to come home.”

 “To say the least.” She thought about how he had looked during their Skype chat. That short hair, day-old stubble, and the way his chest filled out that green t-shirt… beyond fit!

 “Okay I may support your relationship, but I never wanna see that fucking look on your face again.” George’s lip curled in disgust.

 “ Fucking is right,” Ginny muttered, hoping to rile her brother just a little more.

 George blinked once, twice, and third time before snorting. “ Jesus Christ! ”

 “Now, don’t be taking the Lord's name in vain.”

 “Nothing you say matters anymore, sinner!”

 Ginny smirked. “Because you’re a saint.”

 “That right.” George nodded his approval, though his eyes told another story. “I’m a good little holy, pun intended, boy.”

 “I don’t need to know anything about the size, George.”

 That finally did it. His jaw dropped. “ Ginny !”

 Ginny was laughing uncontrollably as all heads turned towards them. She waved them off.

 “I’m glad you’re proud of yourself,” George muttered, his hand clutched over his heart. “I think you may have taken five years off my life.”

 “Oh, please.” Ginny gave him a dismissive look. “You’ve already lost an ear, like the fact that your sister shagged her boyfriend is worse.”

 “Emotionally it is.” George took a large gulp from drink. “I was right, you know.”

 “Huh?”

 George smirked at her. “I told you this time last year that it was gonna be your year, and I was right.”

 Ginny smiled at her brother. “You should go into the fortune-telling business.”

 “Nah, the joke shop is keeping me busy enough. That’s just a hobby.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m so happy for you two, Ginny.”

 She loved all her brothers equally, but at that moment George was pulling ahead. “Thanks, George.”

 “Now for all my support over the years, I’ll accept nothing less than your first son named after me.” George winked at her.

 She shook her head but laughed. “Can we discuss this stipulation? What about the middle name?”

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  May 23rd, 2019. Okehampton College/Lydford Castle. Ages 18 and 17.

 “Focus, Ginny.” Allie slapped her shoulder. “We have another ten problems to solve.”

 Ginny shook out her shoulders. She had been out of it all day, her mind afloat in her own thoughts.

 “Sorry, Allie.” Ginny twisted her pencil between her fingers before setting the tip over the page.

 “Alright, spill.” Allie threw her book aside and leaned her chin in her hand. “You’ve been distracted all week.”

 Ginny sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “I don’t know… It’s just I haven’t heard from Harry in -”

 “Ah!” Allie nodded understandingly. “I should have known. It’s your anniversary.”  

 “Yeah… that too.” She hadn’t wanted to think about it, but that exact thought had invaded her mind many times that day. Also, she wasn’t one of those people who put stock in anniversaries or gift giving. She would love to just be able to video chat with him for thirty minutes. But their schedules clashed too much.

 “Ginny. Earth to Ginny.” Allie waved a hand in front of her face. “Girl, come back to me.”

 “Sorry.” Ginny rubbed her fingers over her eyes. Allie reached across the table and patted her hand. Right as Allie opened her mouth to start a perfect pep-talk, Ginny’s phone buzzed. She looked at the caller ID. Harry . She quickly slid her finger over the green bar. “Harry?”

 “Hello, luv.” Harry’s sounded tired but excited. “I need you to do me a favor.”

 “What kind of favor?” Ginny asked slowly.”If you’re gonna ask for any more of those photos -”

 “Okay, first of all, I was kidding with the whole ‘send nudes’ thing.” Harry’s tone took on a husky quality. “Though you’ve got to admit the idea of seeing me in nothing but a - Hello, sir!”

 Ginny snorted as she listened to Harry give his second lieutenant a quick briefing. Deciding to mess with him, Ginny made her voice go sultry. “You know what, instead of photos I think you’d love an oral description of this sexy, little black lingerie I bought last week…”

 Allie looked at her like she had gone insane. “What the hell are you talking about? We watched cheesy romcoms last weekend.”

 “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” There was a moment of silence before Harry spoke again. “That was just mean!”

 Laughing, Ginny said. “What was the favor, Harry?”

 “A photo with you and that -”

 “Try again.”

 “Okay, fine. I need you to head to our spot.”

 “Why?”

 “Just trust me. Call me when you get there. I love you.” And with that, he hung up.

 Ginny stared at the darkened screen for a moment before collecting her books into her knapsack. “I’ve got to go.”

 “I figure that out.” Allie grinned. “So, your man has pulled through, didn’t he?”

 “We’ll see.”

 Ginny hurried to the castle ruins. It was only four o'clock in the afternoon so the sun was still high in the sky as she drove. The twenty-minute drive felt like an eternity, with so many unanswered questions.

 She pulled into a little parking lot that was used for the inn visitors and tourists alike. As she walked up the overgrown embankment, Ginny found Harry’s name in her contacts.

 Harry forewent any greeting. “Go into the field where I was super romantic and had us dancing.”

 “My modest man,” Ginny said sarcastically, but she followed his instructions. The field was thankful plowed so she wasn’t stuck struggling through tall grass. “Alright, now what?”

 “You know that tree I ran into when we were playing football when we were kids?”

 “And you broke your arm? How could I forget it?”

 Harry didn’t say anything, and Ginny obeyed her cue to the edge of the wood. Leaning against the base of the tree lay at least a dozen roses and a what had to be one of the largest bars of her favorite chocolates.

 “Harry, this is amazing!” Ginny picked up the flowers and admired the different color choices. Reds, lavenders, and (what she would call) peach.     

 “I wish I could be there to give them to you.”

 “Only a few weeks.”

 “Only a few weeks.” Harry let out a relieved sigh. “It can’t come fast enough.”   

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  August 13th, 2019. Harry’s Temporary Flat. Ages 19 and 18.

 Harry slowly guided his lips back up Ginny’s body, giving the spot just above her navel special attention. “Morning sex is the best.” His breath warmed her skin.

 “You said that about welcome back sex.” Ginny tried to keep her mind as Harry’s did his best to make her lose it. “ And you said the same thing about make-up sex. Come to thi-think about it you’ve said something after every time we’ve sh-shagged.” Those beautiful, cursed lips were starting to break her.   

 Harry hummed his agreement onto her neck. “That’s because every time with you is the best.”

 And that cheesy line was what brought Ginny’s mind back. She snorted and used her finger to drag his lips to hers. They had been like this for the past two months, ever since Harry had arrived at the Okehampton train station. Ginny had picked him up and they’d instantly fallen  back into their old routines. Going to the castle ruins, driving toward the coast with no destination, and rolling around in Harry’s bed.

 It had been the been Ginny’s ideal summer. Everything revolved around them being together, but as the end of the month approached, Ginny’s mind kept reminding her that Harry’s leave was almost over. He would be leaving for Middle Wallop Army Aviation Center in less than thirty days.

 “Gin?” Harry pulled away from her, his eyes locking onto hers. “What’s wrong?”

 Ginny wanted to deny it, say everything was perfect, but she never lied to Harry about things like this. “I - I’m gonna miss you.”

 Harry’s mouth fell into a sad smile. “I’ll miss you too, you know that.”

 “I know, it just…” Ginny didn’t know how to express her hatred of their situation without sounding like a child.

 “Sucks?” Harry supplied.

 “More than opening up a pack of Opal Fruits and only having the lemon flavor.” Ginny's words had the intended effect. Harry started laughing, which made Ginny follow his lead.

 Once he’d regained his composure, Harry rolled off her and sat up with his back against the headboard. “Ginny.” He held open his arms and Ginny took the hint. She moved into his embrace, her back against his chest. They remained like that for a while, content for the moment.

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  August 31th, 2019. Lydford Castle. Ages 19 and 18.

 “Gin?” Harry’s voice broke the contented silence between them. They had been watching the sunset with two bottles of Stella. Harry’s arm wrapped around Ginny’s shoulders as they leaned against the cold wall of the ruins.

 “Yeah?” She turned to look at him and was surprised to see him nervously biting his lip. “What’s wrong?”

 “Nothing’s wrong.” Ginny wasn’t quite sure if she believed him, seeing as he looked ready to vomit. “I just - I - er.”

 “Harry?” She placed a hand on his cheek. “You brought the beer, you get to talk.” She made sure to look him in eyes, hoping he would understand that he could tell her anything.

 He audibly gulped, then took a deep breath before saying. “Gin, I want to marry you.”

 Ginny felt her jaw drop. That wasn’t at all what she’d been expecting. “What?”

 “I want to marry you.”

  So I did hear him right, Ginny’s mind worked overtime. Marriage? Holy fuck! Now it was her turn to gulp overly loud. “Seriously?”

 Harry nodded. “You were right. Missing you would suck more than I want to think it. So I started thinking about ways we could be together and then I started thinking about how I never wanted to be apart from you and that made me realize what I want more than anything is to be yours in every way.” His eyes never flickered away from hers, a sure sign he wasn’t questioning his conclusion.

 Ginny knew she must be losing it. She must in some sort of dream state. Maybe in a coma? Harry James Potter wouldn’t be proposing to her unless it was some sort of over-romanticized delusion, right?

 It was that moment Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a single diamond ring. It was simple in the best kind of way, a small gem set in the center of the silver circlet.

 If Ginny thought she’d been in a state of shock before….

 “I found out that my parents had a safe with their local bank full of heirlooms, remember?” Harry asked. Ginny nodded. She had gone with him on his eighteenth birthday, held his hand when things seemed to become overwhelming. “Well, when you were looking at that painting of my grandmother and grandfather I found her ring in a box.”

 Harry brought the ring up to eye level. “I didn’t show you then, because I knew you’d be the girl I’d give it to.” He took her left hand in his right. “Marry me tomorrow, Gin.”

 He was being completely serious, Ginny knew that, but fuck this was a lot for her to wrap her mind around. So many different questions rattling around her mind, but for some odd reason, she decided to ask. “Tomorrow?”

 “Yes! I’ve thought about it a lot.” Harry’s smile became whimsical. “We can have it here.” He gestured around the castle field. “Your family and a few of our friends as witnesses and didn’t Luna get a license as an ordained minister?”

 “She did.”

 “So, she can perform the service.” he kissed her quickly.

 “Harry this is - this is a lot .”

 “I know, but Gin, it feels so right, doesn’t it?”

 It did. She was confused about why it sounded sane. It should be crazy, like looney bin mad, but instead, it seemed just like them. She looked at him, really looked at him and saw no fear. Only hope and love.

 “I’m gonna call, Luna.”

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  September 1st, 2019. Lydford Castle/Weasley Cottage. Ages 19 and 18.

 “I pronounce you joined, and you can express your love in whatever way you feel fit.”

 Harry kissed Ginny on Luna’s unusual take on ‘you may kiss the bride,’ letting his hands cup her jaw. Ginny didn’t seem to have any objections as her fingers twisted through his hair. The noise from their company didn’t penetrate Harry’s senses. All he cared about was kissing his wife, his wife!

 When he finally forced himself to pull away from her, the noise of Ginny’s mother blowing her nose stood out. He looked out at the seven most important people in his life (who could show up in less than twenty-four hours).

 “I have selected the first song for the new Mr. and Mrs. Potter.” Luna pulled out her phone and opened to her music app. She guided them to the flat field behind the castle’s structure.

 “Did you know about this?” Harry whispered into Ginny’s ear as they were herded across the green.

 “No.” Ginny smiled at him. “But I, for one, can’t wait to see what she picked.”

 Luna waited for Harry to place his hands on Ginny’s waist before starting the music.

 A gentle guitar was plucked before the started lyrics started.

  I found a love for me

Oh darling, just dive right in and follow my lead

Well, I found a girl, beautiful and sweet

Oh, I never knew you were the someone waiting for me

'Cause we were just kids when we fell in love

Not knowing what it was

 “Luna picked this song?” Harry asked he slowly swayed in time with the strings.

 “Oh, she couldn’t have picked better!” Ginny was practically gushing. “This is literally the song I would have picked.”

 “It is rather - dare I say - perfect .”

 Ginny groaned and pressed her face into his chest, a move which allowed Harry to pull her closer to him.

  Sei la mia donna

La forza delle onde del mare

 Harry couldn’t help but start a little when the lyrics changed to Italian. “And there's the Luna touch we know and love.”

 Ginny’s shoulders started to shake as she laughed into his chest. She waited a moment before tilting her head back and kissing him. “Didn’t you take Italian?”

 “For a bit.” Harry focused intently on the lyrics, “I have always believed in us. Because you are an angel and I have waited for you.”

 “Is that what that chorus said?”

 “How do you know I didn’t just come up with that.” Ginny raised one brow at Harry’s question. “Fair enough. Yeah, it was.”

 Ginny laughed and kissed him again as the last strains of music faded out.

 Over the course of the next few hours, time went by in a blur. They headed back to Ginny’s parents’ cottage and were gifted a lovely dinner that was filled with laughter and more than a few inquiries about their plans.

 “We’re letting a house in Abbott’s Ann. It’s near the base, so I can travel to and from every day.” Harry smiled at Seamus who was flirting shamelessly with Ginny’s friend Allie.

 “What about university, Ginny?” Arthur asked. Harry was happy to see the older man was smiling. One of his biggest concerns was how Ginny’s parents were going to react to their impromptu marriage, but they had been fine with it. More than fine, really. Molly had cried happy tears when they’d arrived  the previous night with the news of their engagement.

 “Winchester has a great sports psychology program, and I’m hoping to find a place with one of the local teams after that.”

 Harry placed an arm around Ginny’s waist and kissed her temple. “Any place will be lucky to have you, love.”

 “And I didn’t even pay him to say that.” Ginny patted Harry’s cheek lovingly.  

 George walked over with a beer in one hand and a smile on his lips. “I’ve got to say, I love the fact that you’ve gotten married on your anniversary.”

 Harry quirked an eyebrow at his new brother-in-law, but Ginny let out a little gasp. “Oh!” She turned to Harry. “The first time we met was nine years ago today.”

 “I know.” Harry kissed her lightly. “I thought you knew.”

 “Wait, did… did you plan this?”

 “It was something I thought of.” His smile made her knees want to buckle. “September first is now the best day of my life for multiple reasons, but it's always because of you.”

 “Damn, Gin.” Fred started fanning himself with his hand. “If you hadn't just married him, I'd be trying to snatch Harry up.”

 “Sorry Freddy, but I plan on keeping him for a long time.” Ginny took Harry by the hand and lead him towards where Luna had started a makeshift dance floor by the old pond. “Time to show everyone that you’re more than a smooth talker.”

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  February 12th, 2022. Potter Cottage. Ages 22 and 21.

 Harry gently lowered his bag behind the sofa. It had been a long six months since he’d been home. His first tour of duty had been a success with only a few hiccups. After completing the required eighteen months of flight training at the Army Aviation Center, he’d had two weeks to prepare for his six-month deployment. Now he was back and ready to see his wife for the first time in half a year.

 Speaking of hiccups, Harry tried not to wince as he stood straight. One of the buttons on his shirt rubbed against the still healing wound just below his rib cage.

 He looked around the sitting room of his and Ginny’s house. They had rented for the first years of their marriage but eventually decided to just outright buy it. It was a simple English cottage with five rooms, and it was completely perfect for them. They loved everything about it, from the small town of its location to its thatched roof.

 Moving slowly, he checked each room, looking for Ginny. She wasn’t in the kitchen, loo, or spare room they’d turned into her study. His socked feet made no noise as he picked his way across the hardwood floor. Finally, in the bedroom, he spotted his wife. She lay with a mound of textbooks littered around her. Her laptop perched precariously near the edge of the mattress.

 Harry allowed himself a moment to just stare at her. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe she was with him. He had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. As he watched, her reading glasses (the ones she fought tooth and nail about) slid down her nose. Fuck ! She was just perfect.

 Carefully, as to not to disturb her, he moved into the room and onto the little bit of free mattress. She didn’t seem to notice his presence, even though the bed sank under his weight. He had asked one of his squad mates to bring him home from the base because he’d planned to surprise Ginny, and so far he’d say it was working. “That doesn’t look like fun.”

 Ginny jumped a kilometer in the air, forcing her notebook out of her hand. She turned, and Harry was more than amused to watch her eyes grow twice their size. “Harry!” She leaned across the heap of homework and took his face in her hands. “You’re here!”

 “In the flesh.” Harry took the opportunity to push her books aside and positioned himself in her personal bubble. She fell back, taking him with her as they lay perpendicular to the headboard. “Miss me?”

 “More than you know.” Ginny attacked his mouth with hers, then letting her attention drift down to his neck.

“Oh, I think I can guess how much.” Harry bit back a moan as she found his pulse point. Ginny’s hands moved to the hem of his shirt and slithered underneath. The feeling of overwhelming joy and excitement was temporarily halted as Ginny’s nails brushed over his wound. He couldn’t prevent the intake of breath as pain shot through his abdomen.

 Ginny stopped her hands and lips. “Harry?” She leaned away so she could look at his face. “What happened?”

 “No -” Harry swallowed the discomfort. “Nothing. Just a little sore, that’s all.”

 Ginny’s eyes flashed. “What do you mean sore ?”

 Before Harry could make an inaccurate description, Ginny’s hands when back to the hem of his shirt and lifted it (in a much more clinical way that he’d wanted). Her eyes instantly locked with the healing bullet wound.

 In a deadly calm voice, Ginny asked, “What happened?”

 “It wasn’t -”

 “If you say the words ‘that’ and ‘bad’ next, I may kill you.”

 Harry swallowed hard before starting again. “It was a bullet that missed anything important.”

 “And why wasn’t I told of this, ‘not important’ bullet wound?”

 Harry knew he was in trouble. He may have escaped death by gunshot, but Ginny’s eyes spelled his demise. “Er…”

 Ginny pushed him off her, making him fall atop the books he had so happily pushed aside just moments ago. She sprang off the bed and started pacing. “I can’t think of a single reason why I wasn’t informed of this ‘ not important ’ injury. That wound doesn’t look fresh and aggravated. When did you get it?”

 “Three weeks ago.” Harry knew if he wanted to get out of this with some of his hearing intact he needed to answer all her questions truthfully and directly.

 That stopped her pacing. She curled her hands around the baseboard at the end of the bed. Her eyes locked on his. “Three weeks.”

 “Yes, ma’am.”

 If someone asked Harry what type of animal his wife was at that moment, he’d have to say a dragon due to the steam coming from her nostrils. “And why didn’t you tell me about this during our Skype call two weeks ago?” She paused for a moment. “Were you in the infirmary when we were talking?”

 “Yes, and I didn’t tell you because the doctors told me I was fine. It was through and through.”

 Ginny’s mouth became such a thin line Harry knew he’d now royally fucked up. “I don’t care if a butterfly bites you!” She seethed, gritting her teeth. “ I want to know everything, Harry! Do you understand?”

 “Yes, but - where are you going?” Harry watched Ginny stalk towards the little corridor that connected the bedrooms to the sitting room.

 “I’m going to my office to study because right now I’m too mad to look at you.” And then she was gone, the sound of a door slamming reverberating in his ears.  Harry fell back onto the bed, his hands coming to scrub his face.

 “Well. Fuck.”

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  February 13th, 2022. Potter’s Cottage. Ages 22 and 21.

 Harry closed the front door to his cottage quietly behind him. He was drenched from the rain and tired (seeing as it was just past midnight and he’d been up for almost twenty-four hours), but he needed to sort this out. In his left hand were roses from one of his street neighbor’s garden. Phil had been confused by his still smartly dressed, miliary neighbor showing up at his door at half past midnight, but once Harry had explained he needed flowers for Ginny, Phil had let Harry cut a few off his bushes.

 After taking off his boots, Harry walked to the still closed door of Ginny’s study. Taking a deep breath, he knocked. “Ginny, may I please come in?”

 Silence, then a quiet, “Fine,” came from behind the wood. He opened the door slowly and saw Ginny sitting in her desk chair, watching his every move. Her attention was drawn to the flowers clutched in his hand. “Flowers… really, Harry?”

 “You deserve flowers, that’s the only reason I got them.” He held them out to her. Slowly, she took them from his hands. “And I want to apologize.”

 Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Okay.”

 “I should have told you about the bullet wound. It’s just -” Harry took in a deep breath. “This may sound crazy, but in my mind, I was preventing you from being hurt.”

 Ginny quirked her eyebrows at him. “What?”

 Harry rolled his stiff shoulders. “I knew if I told you it would freak you out.”

 “Of course it would!”

 “Right. So, my thought was, you wouldn’t worry as much if you didn’t know about the injury. And you being worried is a form of hurt in my eyes, and I can’t stand you in pain.”

 Ginny sat motionless for a moment, just staring at him, then she placed the flowers on her desk and stood. She moved deliberately across the room and wrapped her arms around his neck.

 “I worry about you no matter what, Harry.” Her eyes were overly bright. “Every time you go out that front door, I worry I’ll never see you again.”

 “Gin.”

 “Hush. I know it’s foolish to worry about you heading out for a pint of milk but I can’t help it.” A tear slid down her cheek. “I’ll never ask you to stop doing what you love, but Harry -” She let out a shaky breath. “I don’t want to live without you.”

 Harry wiped gently underneath her eyes to brush any more tears away. “Ginny -”  Harry choked on his own words. He wanted to say nothing would ever happen, that he would always come home to her, but the reality was that he couldn’t promise that.  No one could, but Harry, in particular, seemed to attract trouble. “Gin, your love, it means so much to me. You mean everything to me.”

 When she kissed him he could taste the salt from her tears, her smile was soft. “Ditto, love. Ditto.”

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February 25th, 2022. Lydford Castle. Ages 22 and 21.

 “You ready?” Harry muttered into her ear, making her shudder. They were positioned at the top of the hill, the castle ruins to their backs. Ginny sat at the front of the sled, with Harry keeping his body close for warmth reasons.

 “Bring it on, Potter.”

 Harry used his gloved hands to propel them forward. They had already carved out a course and now they were targeting speed. Ginny loved the way the wind made her frozen cheeks feel alive again. The sled slowed and they stopped right in front of the tree line.

 Ginny hopped off, ready for the next round. Harry collected their ride and Ginny led the way back towards the top. They had forged their walking path through multiple strenuous trips.

 “Come on, old man.” Ginny turned to see Harry at least twenty steps behind her. She started picking up her pace, hoping to encourage Harry to move his feet. And it worked. Before she knew it, his warm body was pressed against her back, arms banded around her waist.

 “Old man?” Harry’s breath heated Ginny’s ear.

 “You heard me right.” Ginny turned in his arms, pressing her face into the collar of his jacket. She loved moments like this. Only him and her.  

 “I’m literally only a year older than you.”

 “And twelve days.”

 “Because those twelve days make all the difference.”

 Ginny pulled away and started moving back up towards the top of the hill. “That’s right.” When she reached the halfway point, a shiver ran down her spine right before the cold of snow slithered down the collar of her jacket. She spun to see Harry aiming his next missile at her.

 Raising her hands up slowly in a sign of surrender, Ginny said, “Now let's not be hasty, love.”

 “Now it’s ‘love’, huh?” Harry rolled his frozen projectile around his gloved hands. “I thought I was an old man.”

 “Just a loving nickname.”

 “Uh huh.” Harry reeled his arm back.

 Ginny ducked as the snowball flew over her head. “I gave you the chance to back down.” She reached down and bundled her own collection of snow, never taking her eyes off Harry. They straightened at the same time, eyes locked in an intense battle.

 “We seem to be at a stalemate,” Harry said, his free hand twitching in anticipation like he was a cowboy in one of those old Western movies.

 “I have to agree.” Ginny licked her lower lip, which had chapped in the cold.

 “On the count of three, we both drop our weapons?” Harry proposed.

 “Alright.” Ginny smiled indulgently at him. “One. Two. Three.” No snow fell to the ground.

 She sighed, shaking her head in false exasperation. “Well, now I’m disappointed in the both of us.”

 “So, this is happening?”

 “I don’t think we have a choice, darling.”

 “The matter is completely out of our hands.”

 Ginny moved with light speed as she took  aim at Harry’s chest, reeled back, and fired with a hard throw.  Unfortunately for her, Harry had the same idea; Ginny felt the snow hit her shoulder and Harry’s missile collided with her jacket.  

 She bent down, collecting as much snow as she could into her hands when a heavy weight knocked her into her ammo. Ugh! Harry had used his body as a wrecking ball and pushed her into the snow. Heat radiated off his body as he pressed kisses to the bit of uncovered skin between her ear and neck.

 “Do you yield?” Harry murmured into her ear.

 “Never.” Ginny started squirming, trying to find a route of escape, but Harry had her entire body covered.

 “Well, then I’m just going to have to torture you to surrender.” He started kissing every exposed part of her body. Her cheeks, nose, lips. Ginny moved her arms to wrap around his neck, drawing him closer.

 “Harry, what would you say if we rented a room at the inn?”

 “I’d say, I’ll grab the sled and you go check us in.”

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  June 30th, 2022. Coffee#1 - Andover. Ages 22 and 21.

 “How are you, Ginny?” Allie asked as she stirred way to much sugar into her tea. It had been a while since they two old teammates had chatted. Allie was busy trying to start her own beauty salon, and Ginny had just been -- well -- preoccupied .

 “Okay.” Ginny rested her head in her hand, her tone removed of all livelihood.

 Allie set her spoon down and glared. “Don’t lie to me. I know you, and that isn’t a ‘everything is fine’ voice.”

 Ginny rolled her eyes but sighed. Allie was right. She wasn’t okay and wouldn't be until she could speak to Harry. “I - I. Allie, you can’t tell anyone what we talk about right here, got it?”

 The glower shifted to concern. Allie reached for Ginny’s free hand. “What happened, girl? Is it Harry?”

 “No. Harry is... fine.” Ginny sucked in a painful breath. “Allie, I - I had a miscarriage a few weeks back.”

 Allie’s eyes became the size of the moon. As fast as light, Allie had her friend in her arms. For what felt like the millionth time in the last fortnight, the tears began to slide down Ginny’s cheeks.  She tucked her face into Allie’s soft cotton shirt. It took a few moments for Ginny to remove herself from her friend’s embrace.

 “Ginny.” Allie was clearly lost for words. “I - were you trying?”

 Ginny shook her head. They definitely had not been trying, but they definitely hadn’t been not trying. “No, but…” She didn’t know how to explain it, but the moment she had taken that test, Ginny had wanted a baby. Her and Harry’s baby. Chubby cheeks with bright green eyes. Ginny had started to imagine of a freckle covered, black-haired boy lying in Harry’s arms as he was softly rocked to sleep. Then that dream had turned into a nightmare when she had started to bleed heavily. She had rushed to the nearest A&E to discover her baby -- their baby -- was gone.

 Allie didn’t need an explanation. “Have you told Harry?”

 Again, Ginny shook her head. “No, I haven’t been able to speak with him for the last month and a half.” This deployment had been much more intense than the last. Harry hadn’t had the free time or even the service to call often. He had been gone since the beginning of March, but this time he was only gone for four months.

 “Oh, Ginny.” Allie squeezed her again.   

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  August 3rd, 2022. Potter Cottage. Ages 23 and 21.

 Ginny stood by the stove, waiting for the kettle to boil. Harry was home and unpacking his bag. After waiting four months to see him, to tell him everything , she was lost for words. When she had picked him up at the train station she couldn’t take her eyes off him. Now, two hours after arriving home, she couldn’t look at him. All she could think about was the incident . That’s what she called the miscarriage because thinking of that word was more than she could handle.

 She jumped as hands curved around her to rest on her stomach. Harry moved in close, so her back leaned against him. “So quiet, luv. Is everything okay?” Harry’s breath tickled her neck as he whispered into her ear.

 “I -” Ginny keep her eyes on the kettle, wishing for it to scream it’s discomfort so her mind wasn’t alone. “I - Harry .”

 “Gin?” He spun her so she faced him. His eyes lasered on hers, darkened with concern.

 “Harry, I had a miscarriage.” She hadn’t planned to just blurt that. She had wanted to tell him gently, maybe with a mug of tea to bring him comfort, but of course, her big mouth had its own intentions.

 His mouth fell open for only a second before his jaw snapped shut. Then he held her so tightly she couldn’t move even if she wanted to. No… she wanted to be in his arms. She had wanted nothing more for the last two months.

 “Ginny.” Harry’s voice was hoarse with emotion. He kissed her cheek, nose, forehead, his lips covered her entire face. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.” He whispered into her ear as he pressed his nose into her neck.

 “You’re here now.” Ginny closed her eyes, accepting her own words. “You’re here now.”

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  December 25th, 2022. Potter Cottage. Ages 23 and 22.

 “I can’t believe you got Christmas off, mate!” George slapped Harry’s back as he claimed the recently vacated seat beside him.

 “I know, but I do leave on the first.” He was leaving again, but this time as captain. His last tour hadn’t been easy and presented Harry with a real opportunity to show his capabilities. They had promoted him to captain, and this time, he was leading his own sub-unit.

 “Yeah, but you get to be here to see the kiddies open your gifts!”

 Harry’s heart dropped into his stomach. He looked over at Ginny who was talking with her mother. They still were struggling with the loss of their baby. Harry had requested to stay within England for his next assignment so he could be close to his wife. They had talked about it and decided that it wasn’t the time for them to have a baby, yet… Harry wished things were different. He took a swig from his drink before answering. “Yeah. Victoire loves that princess dress we got her.”

 “Well, she does see herself as a future queen, don’t cha know?”

 “No doubt.” Harry couldn’t stop himself from smiling as Victoire took charge over little Molly, showing Percy’s daughter how to serve ‘tea’ to their fathers.

 He looked Ginny over and saw her eyes on the two girls as well. Then, their eyes locked, like a magnetic connection were forcing them together. Ginny smiled at him, that smile that she reserved only for him, and that feeling of sadness for what  could have been faded away. He had her, and they had the rest of their lives to experience things-- to have babies. And that’s all that mattered… that she was his, and he was hers.

 “Uncle Hawwy?” Molly spoke from Harry’s elbow, her issue with R’s more adorable than ever “Would you like some tea?”

 Harry looked at his niece and smiled. “As long as you made it with your secret ingredient.”

 That threw Molly for a loop. Her little red eyebrows scrunched together. “Secwet ingwedient?”

 Leaning in close, Harry nodded and said in a stage whisper. “You made it with love, right?”

 Molly giggled, her face lighting up like the tree behind her. “Yea!”

 “Then pour me your largest mug.” He pressed a kiss to the little girl’s cheek as she hurried off with his order.

 “What did you get me?” Harry looked away from the two excited cousins making his tea to see his beaming wife.

 “Oh, I didn’t know you wanted anything.” Harry stood and kissed her cheek.

 Ginny made a tisking noise. “Potter. Potter. Potter. You claim to know me! I always a sucker for a strong cuppa.”

 “Of course, Potter. Silly me.” Harry looked over his shoulder. “Oh, Molly?” Molly’s red head shot up from her extremely precise pouring job. “Could you please pour a cup for my lovely wife too, please?”

 Molly showed off her baby teeth before nodding.

 Harry turned back to Ginny. “Incredible service. I think I’ll leave a generous tip.”

 Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry’s back, pulling him close, before kissing him. “‘Tis the season, isn’t it.”

  Yeah , Harry thought, all I need is her. He pressed one final kiss to her lips before Molly walked over with two plastic tea cups clutched in her tiny fingers.

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  May 6th, 2023. Weasley Cottage. Ages 23 and 22

 “So, how was the interview?” Molly asked as she poured tea for herself and Ginny. She knew her daughter had applied for a position as health coach at the local football club.

 Ginny smiled at her mother while stirring in the milk she added to her drink. “I was offered the job on the spot.”

 Molly clapped her hands together. “That's great, dear! What will you be doing exactly?” She knew it was something to do with making sure the players were healthy during the season, but there was so much to Ginny’s chosen profession, that Molly had a hard time keeping it all straight.

 “I'm going to create individual diets for the players and help the physical therapist.”

 “Sounds wonderful!” Molly smiled at the excitement in Ginny's voice. “Have you heard from Harry lately?”

 A whimsical look came onto Ginny's face. It made Molly's heart soar. Her daughter was still madly in love with her husband, and that's all she'd ever wanted for Ginny.

 “I actually spoke with him yesterday. He's thinking he should be back by July and get to be home for at least a month.”

 “It will be great to have him around, won’t it?” Molly took a sip from her mug. “I know little Victoire loves her Uncle Harry.”

 Ginny didn’t miss her sly implication. She narrowed her eyes. “ Mum .”

 “Yes, I know. I know. You’ve decided to wait a few more years, but you never know. You got together spontaneously, married spur of the moment, so why not get pregnant impromptu?”

 The look on Ginny’s face was priceless and Molly couldn’t help but smile as Ginny let out an indignant, “Mum!”

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  September 5th, 2023. Lydford Castle. Ages 23 and 22.

“You’d think I’d have adjusted to you leaving,” Ginny murmured into Harry’s neck as she snuggled closer to his warmth. They were laying on the grass behind Lydford castle. They had decided that before Harry was to leave for an extended tour, they’d take the three-hour drive and spend their final day together at their old spot. The spot where they’d truly fallen in love.

 “I know I haven’t.” Harry kissed the top of her head.

 The picnic lunch Ginny lay littered around them, abandoned for the opportunity to hold one another. They fell into a content silence. Noise from the nearby inn could just barely be heard over the sounds of chatting birds.

 “Promise me you’ll be safe.” Ginny was the one to burst the picture-perfect bubble. She leaned away from his neck to look him in the eyes. “Please, Harry.”

 “I promise I’ll do my best, Gin. I’ll always do my best to come back to you.”   

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  November 1st, 2023. Potter Cottage. Ages 23 and 22.

 Ginny leaned forward, letting her head fall into her hands. God , was she tired. No matter how much sleep she got, Ginny was constantly drained.

 At first she assumed it was from the loss of her sleeping partner. Over the past year, Harry had been tasked to home soil. He had been helping to train new recruits, plot maps, and some things he couldn't tell her, but all of that meant he was home with her every night. But then she couldn’t help but think that she’d dealt with Harry leaving before, so why would this time be so hard on her? No...it was something else, but she didn't know what . Maybe it was work? One of the players had been proving difficult, not allowing his hamstring sprain to heal properly. Fuck, maybe it was a combo of the two.

 Then again, maybe she was catching that cold Allie had exposed her to the last time they’d met for coffee. Allie had told Ginny she was on the tail end of a bout of flu, but maybe she’d still been contagious?

 No matter the reason, Ginny needed to get up and finish making that cup of tea. She slowly lifted her head out of her hands and blinked at her cozy kitchen.

 “Fuck,” Ginny groaned as she rose out of her seat and put the kettle on the burner. What the fuck was this? What flu lasted three weeks? Because thinking back on it, she’d seen Allie three weeks ago from last Thursday, and Ginny distinctly remembered feeling extremely lethargic a few days later.

 So she’d been dealing with three weeks of tiredness, a slight fever, random rolling stomach spells, and headache that could have stopped a charging rhino in his tracks. Ginny thought about the medical books and articles she’d read over the course of her uni days, and all the diseases that she could have. Meningitis, mononucleosis, pneumonia. Fuck ! Her symptoms were so common that it could practically anything. It wasn’t like she was coughing up blood or -

 Ginny moved quickly out of the kitchen to the toilet. Opening the drawer she used for “monthly demon” (Ron’s words) supplies. Fully stocked. She should have been at least a quarter depleted. Bile rose up into her throat as she hurried back into the kitchen where the yearly calendar hung.

 She rifled through the months. Her last monthly had been…

 “Oh, fuck! ”

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  November 12th, 2023. Potter Cottage. Ages 23 and 22.

 Ginny sat on her sofa, abandoned carton of ice cream melting on the table beside her. Her mind kept replaying everything her doctor had told her. Nine weeks. Nine motherfucking weeks pregnant! No, it didn’t feel real. It didn’t matter how many times she said the word ‘pregnant’ out loud, thought the phrase ‘I’m pregnant,’ or even wrote out the expression ‘I am going to have a baby,’ Ginny just could believe it.

 So instead of facing reality, Ginny went out and bought a carton of her favorite ice cream flavor and sat in her living room watching meaningless daytime television. It wasn’t the healthiest coping method, but it was a distraction from her own mind. Her traitorous mind that kept going back to the last time… the excitement, then the crushing grief… No .

 Her focus went back to the detective on the screen.

 “What do we know about our victim?” The lead investigator asked, standing over a body that had been covered with a sheet from the shoulders down.

 “Twenty-three year old female. Bruising around the neck suggests strangulation.” The camera focused on the black a blue coloring of the victim's neck. “She was also pregnant -”

 “Oh for fuck's sake!” Ginny turned off the offending program with a sharp button press.

  Fuck Harry and his fit ‘just out of the shower’ body! Fuck herself for forgetting to put on a new patch!

 She leaned back and let her eyes fall closed. Pregnant. Ginny was having a baby… Harry’s baby. Like the floor fell out from under her, Ginny’s gut rushed into her throat. She couldn’t go through the pain of telling Harry she’d lost another baby. All he’d ever wanted was a family. He deserved a family.  

 Unbidden tears started to leak under her lashes. She was his family and now she was having his baby… his chubby-cheeked, button nose baby. Though Ginny logically knew there was no outward sign, her fingers still moved to her stomach.

 “I’m pregnant,” Ginny muttered into the silence of her home, and finally she truly believed her own words.

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  December 15th, 2023. Potter Cottage. Ages 23 and 22.

 Ginny threw the tea towel onto the counter with thoughtlessness as the sound of knuckles on wood rang throughout the cottage. As she moved to the front door, her hand subconsciously rested on her slightly protruding stomach.

 It was something Ginny had taken to: rubbing her hand over her baby bump, talking to her unborn child. She loved feeling the evidence of what she and Harry had created. Once she’d gotten over her shock, Ginny had become a full-fledged nester. She had already started filling her Amazon wishlist with baby clothing for either gender.

 The only thing she hadn’t been able to do was to tell the father. Harry had warned her before he’d left that contact would be minimal, maybe once every few months at best. Even letters were limited, but that was better than nothing. Fortunately, in his last letter, Harry said he should be able to have a Skype conversation on Christmas. It was the best gift he could give her, and in turn, she thought he would love her gift to him.

 Before opening the door, she looked through the small peephole. A man in a tan, military uniform stood on her stoop. Her heart started to beat against her ribcage, threatening to break free. As quickly as she could, Ginny opened the door to a man she knew only from Harry’s descriptions.

 Major “Mad-Eye” Moody offered out a hand. “Mrs Potter, I’m -”

 “What’s happened to Harry?” Ginny didn't need an introduction or small talk. She needed direct answers.  

 “May I come in, Mrs Potter?” Moody gestured towards the sofa with a hand that only had three fingers.

 “Call me Ginny.” She moved aside to allow the bulk man entry. They moved as one to the sofa and chair set. Ginny took the loveseat as Moody settled awkwardly in the chair.

 “Ginny.” Moody’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I have come to inform you that your husband was apart of a raid team that has been reported missing in action since o-eight hundred hours this morning.”

 Four hours! Harry had been MIA for four hours. She wanted to scream at the gnarled man, demanding she find her husband -- her Harry! -- but logically she knew that wouldn't do anything. And she needed to be logical right now.

 “What can you tell me?” Ginny was surprised her voice sounded so calm.

 “Mrs - Ginny , there isn’t much I actually can tell you.” Moody shifted in his seat. “You know his whereabouts were highly classified.”

 “Yes, but I would think due to the circumstances I could be informed of his last known location.” Ginny recognized the tone she was using. It was her mother's ‘I’m too upset to yell’ tone.

 “Mrs Potter, unfortunately, I still am unable to tell you that. What I can tell you is that we’ve assigned a highly trained unit to find your husband and the nine other missing men.”

 “Who’s in charge of the unit?”

 “Nymphadora Tonks. She is truly one of our best.” Moody laced his fingers. “Ginny, I just want to tell you how fond I am of Harry.” He grunted. “And I swear I’ll be doing everything in my power to bring him back to you and your baby.”

 Ginny’s hands came to rub her stomach. Tears welled in her eyes.

 Moody cleared his throat. “Does Harry kno -”

 “ No .” Ginny felt a shiver go down her spine. “I didn’t know before he left and I haven’t been allowed contact.”

 In a surprising gesture, Moody offered her his hand. When she took it, he squeezed gently. “When he comes home he will be so happy. He really loves you and will be so happy about the baby.”

 Ginny had to shut her eyes, hoping to close herself off from everything, but it didn’t work. Her mind kept imagining Harry. The way he looked the first time she’d seen him as a child. That intense look he’d had before they’d kissed for the first time. Those flushed cheeks as he moved inside her.

 She held Moody’s hand tightly. “Find him, please.”

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  December 16th, 2023. Unknown Location. Ages 23 and 22.

 Harry’s mind was ready to explode. The pressure was becoming unbearable. He had no idea how long he’d been hanging upside down, and fuck, he didn’t even know where he was. The last thing Harry remembered before waking up with his feet tied to ceiling rafter was loading his team back onto the chopper. Then there had been gunfire before the world went black.

 At the very least, he knew he hadn’t been shot. Someone had snuck up behind him (using the noise of the propeller to cover his footsteps) and knocked him out. There was no way for Harry to know what happened to his team, but he had to assume they had been taken in the ambush as well.

 “Ah, you are awake Captain Potter.” A snide voice came from somewhere to Harry’s left. He twisted his body to look and saw a greasy haired man, dressed in all black. “I’m glad. We can have a nice little chat now.”

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  December 25th, 2023. Ages 23 and 22.

 “Keep that in mind for next time, Potter.” Harry heard the door slam shut but kept his eyes closed. It was easier to control his body if he focused on one thing at a time, and right now it was time to prevent himself from vomiting. His chest seared from the fire that had been burning his skin.

 Harry went to his happy place: with Ginny. It was near Christmas, he was almost certain, though it was hard to keep track of holidays in a prison cell. He hoped that his wife had gone to see her parents, brother, their significant others, and kids. It always brought her joy to see little Molly and Victoire.

 “Happy Christmas, Gin.”  

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  January 2nd, 2024. Bones Medical Office. Ages 23 and 22.

 “Mrs Potter, your file here is… incorrect.” Susan spoke gently as she could.

 “I’m sorry?” Ginny sat up, wiping the cold gel from her stomach, and pulled her shirt back down. Ginny had made an appointment with her normal physician to check on her baby. She knew stress wasn’t good for a baby, and fuck, had she ever been stressed… between the holidays, her mother trying to basically move into her home, and the fact that her husband could either be dead or alive, Ginny was at a breaking point. So she wanted a check up. “What do you mean incorrect?”

 Susan sighed. “Your first examination was… poorly done. Mrs Potter, did anyone ever discuss the fact that you were having twins with you?”

  Snap. There went the last of her cool.

 “No!” Her voice became high pitched. “How could they not have known?”

 “I can’t speak for your first doctor, but, Ginny, you have two babies.” Bones turned the monitor towards her and that clearly showed two outlines. “One.” Susan pointed to the left shadow. “And two.” Her finger moved across the screen to the right.

 Ginny wished she could disagree. She wanted to say it was just one weirdly shaped blob, but she couldn’t. “How - why - How did they miss this?”

 “During your first ultrasound one could have been hiding. Or even we have a set of monoamniotic or monochorionic twins.” Susan’s voice was clearly meant to soothe, but Ginny’s heart continued to race. “But with some more tests, we will get everything figured out and make sure your babies are okay. I’d like to start with some blood tests. Is that okay with you, Ginny?”

 Ginny could only nod, her mouth unable to operate.

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  January 2nd, 2024.Unknown Location. Ages 23 and 22.

 Harry tried to open his eyes, but the left one refused. It was still swollen from his beating a day ago. No matter what, Harry wouldn’t give up. He had too much to lose. His men, his country, and most of all Ginny. She was never far from his mind. When his eyes closed it, was her freckled face that he saw, not the pockmarked man who enjoyed beating him with whatever was handy.

 No, him and Ginny we’re on a beach far away. Her lithe form in a tight black bikini. That was where he was. With his best friend and lover.

 Harry felt himself drift off, and he welcomed the hours of pain relief.  

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  January 5th, 2024. Potter Cottage. Ages 23 and 22.

 “Ginny?” Molly’s voice came from the other side of her closed bedroom door. “I have a cup of tea for you.”

 Ginny pulled one of Harry’s old base shirts over her stomach. Her sons were healthy and happy, according to Bones. Her identical sons. Holy fuck . Ginny had sworn to every deity she could  think of that if her sons were anything like her twin brothers…

 She took a deep breath before leaving the quiet of her room. Ever since Ginny had called her mother in tears (discovering a second baby growing inside you is a good reason to be emotional), Molly had officially moved into the Potter cottage. Though she hated the fact that she felt like a child again, Ginny needed her mother more than she wanted to admit.

 “There you are, dear.” Molly beamed at her when she entered the kitchen, stomach first. “Your cup is right on the table and there is a freshly made scone beside it.”

 Ginny took her place, lowering herself slowly into the chair. “Thanks, Mum.”

 Molly came over tea towel still in hand, and kissed her head. “Of course.”

 A knock on the front door broke the silence. Ginny made to stand, but Molly pushed her back down lightly. “I’ve got it.” She bustled out of the room.

 Ginny listened to the small creak and the sound of pleasant voices, then footsteps. Molly re-entered the kitchen with a blond haired woman. The stranger wore her army dress jacket and beret.

 “Mrs Potter.” She held out her hand to Ginny. “I’m Captain Tonks.”

 Ginny’s heart flew into her throat. If she hadn’t already been sitting, Ginny’s knees would have buckled. “Do -” Ginny couldn’t get out any words.

 “We have a location on Captain Potter.” Tonks took the seat Molly gestured towards, right across from Ginny. “After surveillance, we believe that your husband and the rest of his captured squad have been held captive.”

  Captive . Ginny let the word float around in her mind. Captive. He had been held against his will in some (more than likely) grungy dungeon. But captive means alive. He was alive . Ginny’s head fell into her hands. Tears falling freely. She could feel her mother’s hand start to rub wide circles on her back.

 “Do you have a plan to get my son-in-law?” Molly’s tone was soft and soothing, but Ginny knew her mother would be staring at Tonks with a hawk-like glare.

 “Yes, ma’am.” Tonks sounded as calm as ever. “I have a team of twelve readying for deployment as we speak. This is a stealth operation, Mrs Potter.”

 Ginny lifted her head to look at the woman. Tonks smiled at her. “I’m going to do everything in my power to bring Harry home.”

 And Ginny believed her. She truly did. Reaching across the table, Ginny gripped Tonk’s hand. “Thank you.”

 “Of course.” Tonks took a deep breath. “Because we don’t the know the extent of everything Captain Potter has gone through, I would like to talk to you about some phrases, important memories, and items that can help Harry understand my men are friendly. Is there anything you can think of that make Harry trust my men, once they find him?”

 Ginny thought about it. They didn’t really have a motto or anything. Then a thought came to her. She reached up to her neck, and she unclasped the necklace Harry had given her for her seventeenth birthday. After five years, she’d never gone more than a few hours without the silver chain around her neck.

 “Show him this.” She handed it to Tonks. “And you can tell him I’ll be bringing the drinks to our spot when he gets home.”

 Tonks nodded, her hand closing around one of Ginny’s most treasured items. “I’ll do just that.”

  XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

  January 6th, 2024. Unknown Location. Ages 23 and 22.

 Harry spit the blood out of his mouth when the door closed behind the now bloody-knuckled, man. His cell was the same as before, dark and smelling of urine. Harry tried to keep out of his designated piss corner, but the man (who Harry called The Brute) had thrown him straight towards the relief nook.  

 Sitting up, Harry tried to forget what he had just seen. Malcolm. That was the third man Harry had lost over their imprisonment, (Harry had to look at his wall etching to know it had been twenty-one days).

 Every seven days they killed another one of his men. First had been Liam Strong, who had only just gotten married to his childhood sweetheart. Then Kole Grossman, a strong man who had come out to his parents right before their deployment. Kole would never get to see his parents accept any of his boyfriends. And now Malcolm Fuller, Harry’s second in command and father to a three-year-old daughter.

 Harry’s captors wanted information that Harry didn’t have (nor would have given them if he’d know), and these monsters thought the killings would loosen his tongue. Of course, he would do anything to save his men, but he truly didn’t have anything to give them. So he had been forced into a chair and made to watch as they slowly tortured his men to the point where they were begging for death. And then Harry would see their pleas be granted.

 The only thing keeping Harry sane was the thought of Ginny. He promised to do his best to come back to her, and fuck, he would do just that!

 He could hear screaming from another room. Painful screaming. Harry closed his eyes, wishing he could block out the noise, too.

 It was time to take stock of his injuries. Harry felt around his face, feeling the knicks from slowly healing wounds. The marks where scars were sure to form on his arms. Not to mention the puckered skin on his torso from burns. The spot where his eyebrow wouldn’t seem to regrow. He rolled his ankle, which had been badly sprained, and only just really started to support his weight after improper treatment. None of that mattered though. He was alive.

 The scream was suddenly cut off, replaced by gunfire and grunts. Harry rose on his shaky legs, getting close to the metal bars what had contained him for twenty-one days. The solid wooden door clashed open to reveal two soldiers. Two British soldiers.

 “Captain Potter.” They moved in sync to the cage. “We’ve been sent to retrieve you and the rest of your unit. Do you know where the rest are?”

 Harry wanted to believe them. Oh, how he wanted to believe them, but how could he with so much on the line? He needed to protect his squad and telling strangers, who could have obtained their uniforms by killing some other unit, wouldn’t do.

 “Who are you?”

 The one who spoke before said, “I’m Captain Tonks and this is second lieutenant Boot. I’ve talked to your wife, Ginny. She told me to tell you that she will be bringing the drinks to your spot when you get home’. Also, she wanted me to show you this.”

 Tonks threw a small object at Harry, which he almost missed because of the dim lighting in his cell. But even without full sight, Harry could recognize the simple design. With trembling fingers, he pressed the bottom button. Moving the locket right up to the tip of his nose Harry could see the two figures watching the sunset.

 He looked up at his comrades. “They should be down the hall and to the left. I heard Holmes’ voice a few days back as they beat him. Now get me out of here so we can get them!”

 Boot jingled a key and unlocked the cell. Tonks came over and patted Harry’s shoulder. “Let’s get you all out of here.”  

  XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

  January 7th, 2024. Potter Cottage. Ages 23 and 22.

 “Ginny, sit down!” Molly gritted her teeth as Ginny paced around the sitting room for the hundredth time. “They will contact you as soon as they have any news.”

 She knew that. Logically , she knew that. But that didn’t make her feet stop moving.

 “Dear, I’m sure you’re hungry. Why not go into the kitchen and make something. Keep your hands busy at least.”

 Ginny didn’t want to admit it, but popcorn and pickle juice sounded really good at that moment. So she shuffled off into the kitchen. It didn’t take long for her to have the kernels popping in the microwave and pickle juice poured into a cup ready to be drizzled onto her snack.

 She stood looking out of the kitchen window, not really focused on the anything in particular. This was the first time her mind had gone blank in the last forty-eight hours and it was just shy of a miracle.

 It was then Ginny sensed it… him. She was about to turn, but a body pressed against her back. A hand came up and moved her hair away from her next before kisses peppered the exposed skin.

 “Hello, love.” It was his voice. It was his lips. Harry. Her Harry . “This is yours.” She felt his fingers skimming the back of her neck. The metal of her locket fell in between her breasts as he clipped the clasp into place.

 “I think I nearly gave your mother a heart attack.” Harry kept his tone low and sultry, as his hands traveled across her body. First to her shoulders, down her arms as if cataloging everything, confirming she was real. Ginny could barely breathe. Her eyes closed of their own accord. If this was a dream she never wanted to wake up.

 It was when his hands reached to cup her breasts that he paused. The labored breathing on her neck hitched in surprise. “That’s… different.” Slowly, Harry continued the downward journey of his hands. Ginny opened her eyes and looked down at Harry’s fingers as they grazed across her swollen stomach.

 “Gin?” Harry’s voice lost any hint of seduction as his tone turned to astonishment. “ Ginny ?”

 She turned in what felt like slow motion to see her husband’s vivid green eyes, the ones she had admired from the moment she’d seen them. His cheeks were hollow from a lack of nutrition, cuts and bruises covered his face, but it was Harry.

 His attention was further south. Slowly he moved his fingers to the hem of her shirt, where he lifted it just enough to see her stomach in its full glory.

 “So, you’ve discovered my surprise.” At Ginny’s words Harry’s eyes jumped to hers and she could see wetness behind them. He went down onto his knees and kissed her exposed stomach.

 “Oh my God.” He seemed unable to say more as he rested his cheek on her skin. Ginny moved her fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp.

 “Trust me, God had nothing to do with it.” Ginny had no idea why she couldn’t stop making stupid jokes, but she was happy to see the quirk of Harry’s lips before he gave their babies one more kiss.

 He rose and guided her to sit on his lap in one of the kitchen chairs. “How far along?”

 “Almost seventeen weeks, but Harry -”

 “Oh my God.” Harry pressed his face into her neck. “After the Andover game?”

 “Or the next morning, but Harry -”

 “That really was an amazing wake-up call.”

 “Harry -”

 Harry lifted his head, eyes filled with panic.”Everything is okay? Have you visited the doctors? Is the baby -”

 Ginny slapped a hand over his mouth. “Harry, if you’d shut up for a moment I could answer your questions.”Her eyes narrowed as she stared him down. “If I take my hand away, you’ll be good?”

 When he nodded she let her hand fall to rest on his shoulder. “Now, as I was trying to say, the babies and I are fine, Harry.”

 She waited for his eyes to widen before nodding. “That’s right. When you knock someone up, you give it your all. We’re having identical boys, Harry.”

 Harry’s face contorted as he pressed it back into her neck. Ginny felt his lips tremble as he pressed light kisses on her skin. Ginny rested her cheek on the side of his head. After weeks of feeling tense, she finally relaxed in his arms.

 Ginny could have sworn a forty pound weight had been lifted off her chest. The fear of never getting to see her husband again, never getting to tell him about what they had created, had been crushing her. Here he was, though…, worse for wear with cuts, bruises, and God knew what else… but he was in their kitchen, alive .

  XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

  June 8th, 2024. Andover War Memorial Hospital. Ages 23 and 22.

 “Look at them,” Harry whispered into the silent hospital room. His sons with their black hair, freckle covered cheeks, and bright blue eyes (that Ginny was sure were going to match their father’s one day). One was wrapped in a green blanket, and one was wrapped in blue; Molly had knitted both. Harry couldn’t stop watching them...the way James George’s face scrunched before he let out a big yawn… and little Sirius Arthur with his nose wriggled like a rabbit! Harry was hopelessly in love.

 “I can’t stop.” Ginny sounded as if she needed to sleep for twenty-four hours, but she, like Harry, couldn’t take her eyes off their sons. Her fingers grazed James’ cheek. “We make good babies.”

 Harry leaned to kiss Ginny’s cheek. “We make the best babies. Let's aim for triplet girls next time.”  

 Ginny didn’t look away from James, but cooed, “Daddy’s crazy, isn’t he Jamie? What do you think Siri?” Sirius let out a little chirp noise. Ginny turned to Harry with a raised brow and a cocky smirk. “See, he agrees with me.”

 “Excuse me for dreaming of three perfect daughters that look just like their mother.” Harry pressed a kiss to Ginny’s lips. “Thank you.”

 “For what?” Ginny’s smirk changed to a confused smile.

 “You’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted. Love. A family of my own. Without you, Gin.” He choked up. Clearing his throat Harry tried again. “I love you.”

 Ginny shifted, wincing in pain, but she gave Harry room to crawl into her bed, which he gladly accepted. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to him, as both of them focused on their boys. “It was my pleasure, Harry. I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.”

 Harry rubbed his nose into her neck, letting his lungs fill with her scent (even through the sweat and hospital antiseptic, it was still Ginny).

 They both watched as their sons fell asleep before following their lead.

  XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

  Epilogue

  August 20th, 2030. Potter House. Ages 30 and 29.

 “James, stop right there, mister!” Ginny’s voice sounded shrill across the lawn, stopping both her sons in their tracks.

 They turned as one, presenting her with their father’s green eyes which bore the look of the innocent.

  They had to be like Fred and George, Ginny thought as she waddled over to them. Being seven months pregnant and keeping up with two hellions was no easy feat. “Care to tell me why I found a frog in Lily’s nappy bag?”

 Sirius shrugged. “Maybe he was cold?”

 Ginny’s brow rose. “And you don’t think he was guided into his new home ?”

 James frowned. “No, maybe it’s like the houses that Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione had been looking at.”

 “You mean the ones in the paper and online?”

 Beaming, James nodded. “Yeah!”

 Ginny sighed. Her six-year-old sons were too much for her sometimes, and she only had herself to blame. Clearly, they’d gotten their mother’s cheek. “Well can you please make sure any ads for this real estate opportunities are removed?”

 “Of course, Mummy!” Sirius grinned to his brother. Then they took off, back towards the thicket of trees.

 “And here I thought you were going to threaten them with prison for twins again.” Ginny turned at Harry’s voice. He was standing only a few meters back, holding their two-year-old daughter Lily in his arms. Lily was squirming, wanting to get down and explore. Harry set her on her tottering feet with a kiss to the top of her head. “Go get them, love.”

 Lily giggled before heading in the direction of the little fort Harry had built the year they’d moved into the large estate in Little Ann. The two bedroom cottage had been perfect for their early years of marriage, but once the twins started becoming mobile Harry and Ginny had decided they needed more space --and with the two stories four bedroom house that was just down the street from their preferred neighborhood, that was what they got. After the twins were born Harry had been recruited to train new recruits. It was a job he loved, and it allowed him to come home to his family every night.    

 Harry wrapped his arms around Ginny’s enlarged stomach, his breath hot on her neck. Ginny turned to look at her husband of ten years. “I figured it may be time to change tactics. Not to mention they always break out of my cells.” She shrugged her shoulders, thinking of the old playpen she had tried to use for timeouts.

 “We’re going to have to come up something or they will be unstoppable.” Harry smiled at her. “And imagine if Lily joins the band of marauders. We’re already out numbered and this one,” He rubbed the pads of his thumbs across her stomach, “Makes our odds even worse.”

 “I blame you entirely for that, by the way.” Ginny gave him her best glare. “Ambushing me in the shower, honestly! ”

 “I saw an opportunity and I went for it. I’m an opportunist.” Harry gave her that grin that made her knees weak (and always had). “Besides, I didn’t hear you complaining at the time. I distinctly remember you saying, ‘Took your bloody time, didn’t cha?’”

 “Well, you did. I told you I was hopping in the shower five minutes before you arrived.”

 “What matters was the fact that we both arrived in the end.”

 Ginny snorted, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a deep kiss. “Do you want to take kids to Lydford this weekend?”

 Harry smiled at her. “Sounds like a great idea. Sirius would love to hear the story about how you rolled down the hill straight into a puddle of mud.”

 “I’m sure James will love the tale of his daddy running into a tree and breaking his arm.”

 “Oh well, Lily -” Ginny cut him off with a kiss.

 “How about we tell them about how we fell in love watching sunsets over that hill?”

 Harry smiled at her before kissing her one final time. “Sounds perfect.”

[journeysintowebcomics]

Worm Liveblog #105

UPDATE 105: Following the Trail

Last time Skitter tried to arrange her territory to be on autopilot for a few days, and spent the night with Grue. Romance and movies! So let’s continue – or more like let’s go into an interlude. This is the best possible time for one, as this is one of those rare moments of respite. Onwards!

From a glance at the first few chapters, it’s not clear who the narrator is. All I seem to know is that it’s male and has prosthetics. May be a hero. The setting seems to be medical, possibly a hospital? A lot of people lost loved ones, ‘new parents’ are mentioned, and a window that shows where newly born babies are at is now covered and marked with police tape. All these facts show quite the grim picture. Something horrible must have happened.

Honestly? The fact babies are involved kind of makes this a tad hard for me to read. I like babies, so...this is pretty tough for me. Better truck on, though.

This guy is showing some sympathy towards people, or at least righteous outrage at the situation. I was sympathizing with this person until...

He saw two women embracing one another, eyes red, staring at him as he passed through the last of the gathered crowd. They were hoping for the impossible, willing it.  But bringing their child back wasn’t in his hands.  The best he could manage would be revenge.  Or justice.  The line between the two got pretty damned thin at times like this.

That’s a bit of dangerous thinking. I can’t say I disagree, but partaking in revenge on behalf of other people is likely to go so wrong.

Oh, it’s Defiant! No wonder he was having such thoughts. I bet before he attacked Leviathan and put all those villains’ lives in danger he thought of something similar. Either way, he’s here, in a small town that isn’t Brockton Bay, where something very bad must have happened. I wonder where Dragon is.

There’s more than one scene of the crime in this place. The nursery here is only one, and thankfully, Defiant doesn’t see any value in checking it further. Instead he asks in checking the others. Thank goodness, I’ll be able to read this interlude without feeling a punch to the gut.

Wordlessly, she turned and led him to the stairwell.  He noted the gouges on the walls.  Two or three inches deep, with blood spatters following each.  Plastic had been taped down over each individual mark and spatter. Evidence cards were stuck next to each. He could guess the culprit.  Jack.

Oh, the Slaughterhouse Nine are here! I should have guessed they had gone through here, what with Defiant and Dragon trying to catch up them. Pretty low of them to be attacking a hospital, but it fits their purpose of hurting as much as possible.

This is a small town, so it only has two heroes and one villainess. None of them sound familiar, although I must say I like the moniker ‘Damsel of Distress’. It’s long, but it’s kind of bombastic. She can make some rather chaotic storms she can’t control, which is why she hasn’t been able to be a worthwhile threat, I guess.

“The Slaughterhouse Nine are recruiting. Their numbers are down, and they’ll be looking for a quantity of new members more than they’re looking for quality. At least until they’re stable enough that they can afford to be picky.  Once they can, they’ll replace the weakest recruits with better ones.  I don’t want them to get that far.”

“I understand.  But would they want her?  Damsel of Distress?  Her lack of control over her power holds her back.  I won’t say she isn’t a problem, but she’s never been a priority threat to anyone.”

“She’s a heavy hitter.  They can give her control, or they can use that lack of control.”

I can’t imagine them having this Damsel of Distress among them, even if they’re sorely lacking in numbers. Is she malicious? Can she be broken? Possibly, but that aside, what use can they have to her power? Just...cause chaos inside a city? It’s not the deadliest power ever. True, it can cause situations where death is possible, but it’s not like killing is her intent, is it? So yeah, I think it’s more likely the Slaughterhouse Nine were just passing by and attacked this hospital for fun.

True, maybe they came to this town to look for one of the two heroes, or both. They wouldn’t try to recruit a hero unless that hero has already done something unsavory or they know they can break the hero. Armsmaster and Panacea proved that. Still, I suspect if he considered maybe they’re looking for the heroes, Defiant would think something about it right now, yet he isn’t. I don’t think he believes that’s plausible.

Hookwolf was over here, there’s a whole lot of blood and dismembered body parts. Say, how is Hookwolf? Last I checked he wasn’t entirely into being part of the Slaughterhouse Nine and was forced to come along, I don’t remember exactly how but now he’s there. Anyway, while Hookwolf killed over here, Jack Slash and Manton’s invincible projection moved somewhere else. They all did start with the nursery first, attacking what would cause the most horror. I really don’t want to think about how things are like in there, the clean-up crew are going to have the worst task in their careers.

It seems the Slaughterhouse Nine managed to control enough information for nobody to be able to report what exactly was happening in the hospital, so when the police officers arrived none of them was prepared for a global deadly threat like the Slaughterhouse Nine. Did the heroes come? I sure hope so.

The sheriff in charge of this town is understandably distraught at all this but refuses to let it show, the problem is that talking about it threatens to make the dam burst. Defiant isn’t sure what to say, so Dragon lends a hand.

“Tell her it’s not her fault,” Dragon spoke in his ear.

“It’s not your fault,” he told the sheriff.  “They planned it this way.  I would guess they controlled the information that was reported to your station to keep you in the dark, then would have had Hookwolf sitting in the lobby in his human state, indistinguishable from anyone else that was waiting for a turn.”

There’s something kind of ironic about the AI having to give advice about how to empathize and tactful in this kind of situations. Defiant is capable of sympathy, but he’s not really that good at letting it show. With the right nudge, his words are actually good, and when he accidentally starts diverging and talking about unrelated stuff, Dragon sets him back on track. Golly, these two are really made one for the other.

The sheriff asks for reassurance, that they will be able to track the Slaughterhouse Nine and make them pay. Sadly, no reassurance is made. Maybe it was the right move, it sure would be quite tragic if she got it and then later she read Defiant was killed by the Slaughterhouse Nine – or worse, recruited. To change the topic, Defiant goes into forensic mode and examines the place.

His retelling of what happened seems to make sense. Hookwolf waited until the attacks started, the hospital security system told everyone to stay put and calm. That’s when he attacked, he cut off the escape route and herded everyone into one spot before killing them. Bam. What does this all tell you, Defiant, master forensic analyst?

“Hookwolf was largely content doing what he was doing in Brockton Bay.  He viewed himself as a warrior, a general, and there was a degree of honor in what he did.  He wasn’t honorable, but he followed a code.  The person who nominated him for the group, Shatterbird, is no longer a member.  So why did he join?  Our working assumption was that there were threats on some level, extortion.  But he’s shifting focus too quickly.  Adopting a new mindset.  It’s possible Jack Slash convinced him in another way.”

“Or he’s under their control,” Dragon said, communicating over their personal channel.

“…Or he’s being coerced,” Defiant said, for the sheriff’s benefit.  “An implant, something that’s turned him into a puppet.”

Nice! That’s actually correct! Now I remember that yeah, Hookwolf is under the Slaughterhouse Nine’s control. Perhaps they’ll do the same to villains or heroes they want to bring along? Either way, now that Defiant and Dragon have this knowledge, it should be useful for them in some manner. With some luck they can make it so Hookwolf isn’t controlled anymore, but that’s unlikely. Still, it’s good information to have!

The sheriff’s deputy was the last to die and he fought bravely. Rest in peace, pal. Examining the deputy’s body makes Defiant realize Hookwolf was in control of his actions, so...I guess if there’s some control on him he’s starting to follow the impulses and actions by his own will? Pretty scary, that.

What’s more, I think Jack Slash is grooming him.  The general and the cutthroat, playing off one another, educating each other in their respective disciplines, so to speak.  Jack’s going to want to keep this interplay going, maintain Hookwolf’s interest and keep him from getting restless.

So they may attack again, just to keep Hookwolf into the team and get him more and more used to their style of carnage. There are two other towns nearby, perhaps they’ll attack over there? With their next destination defined, Defiant goes outside, planning to join Dragon on checking the resident villainess and move on. Hmmmm...maybe this attack on the hospital was purely for Hookwolf’s benefit, instead of going to recruit this Damsel of Distress person. She just doesn’t sound worth going anywhere for.

The reason why Defiant says Hookwolf was in control of his actions is because he spent a few minutes there, watching the deputy die. The deputy had fought back, so Hookwolf enjoyed killing the closest thing there was to a warrior of his caliber. Basically Defiant was right: Jack Slash is slowly pushing Hookwolf closer to the kind of killer they want him to be, and although Hookwolf was being controlled at first, now he’s with them willingly, seems to me. Right.

“I don’t like it when you try to get into their heads like that.”

“We have to be proactive. Predict.  Get ahead of them, so we can stop them before they attack the next hospital, the next neighborhood or school.  That means figuring out what they’re thinking.”

I fully agree with Defiant on this one. Like it or not, this kind of thoughts are going to be necessary to be able to follow the Slaughterhouse Nine and predict where they’ll attack next. Besides, Defiant is rather good at it, he’s clever and can make good deductions. Too bad he wasn’t able to do such things when he was dealing with Taylor back when she wasn’t really into being a part of the Undersiders. That would have been a good time for your psychological analysis, Defiant, seriously.

Ah, Defiant is moving by using a suit made with Dragon. It wasn’t in Brockton Bay, so Dragon really was just leaving spares or secondary suits in that city. I wonder what kind of abilities this Uther suit has, or perhaps it’s only for transportation? Either way, this one is specially made for Defiant, so it’s unlikely it’ll ever attack the Undersiders unless Defiant feels like going back to Brockton Bay to fight them – which isn’t really unlikely once the Slaughterhouse Nine have been dealt with.

I like that Defiant is admitting he would have screwed up his conversation with the sheriff if Dragon hadn’t been whispering advice to his ear. Goodness, somehow Defiant is turning into a likable character, who’d have thought?

“Any notice on Damsel?”

“Seems like we’re too late.  They got her.”

His heart sank.  “Got her in the sense that she’s dead, or got her in the literal sense?”

“The latter.”

“Fuck!”  One more to contend with.  He remembered who he was talking to.  “Sorry.”

Seriously? Wow, they either saw something in her I didn’t, or they’re really desperate for something to fill their numbers. Now that I think about it, Damsel of Distress had tried a few times to make herself more known by going to other cities, being a part of the Slaughterhouse Nine is a chance for notoriety. She may have gone willingly. Still, there’s something mighty disappointing about taking her into the team.

Why are you so concerned about saying ‘fuck’ in response to that, Defiant, the line before what I pasted literally said ‘I would have fucked that up’. Kind of late for worrying about your language.

The next town to visit has been defined, and they get on the way, talking in the meantime and wishing they had fought the Slaughterhouse Nine before, in Brockton Bay.

They wouldn’t be able to do this for long.  They were only able to track the Nine like this because their quarry was unaware. It would only get harder, with Jack obfuscating the group’s movements, with traps and misdirection, a contest of second guessing, trying to think more steps ahead.

And all that could fill a story of its own. It’s a shame Defiant and Dragon’s pursuit of the Slaughterhouse Nine is a subplot in Worm, because it has enough meat and potential to be the main plot of a different story. It’s a bit of wasted potential, really.

Ah, sounds like this all is happening shortly after the Undersiders and Travelers defeated the suits. Defiant is focusing on the fact the suits were defeated and worries that may mean they won’t be enough to fight the Slaughterhouse Nine, Dragon isn’t too worried because it was all due to the AI being suboptimal. I don’t know, I feel all those suits would have a chance against the Slaughterhouse Nine if they attack at once. The only big problem I can think of is Manton’s invincible projection. That suit that was fighting Heckpuppy? It would be great against Hookwolf, what with using metal to regenerate itself, for example.

To try to solve that, Defiant offers to try to make some loopholes into Dragon’s restrictions but is afraid he’ll screw up – reasonable fear, it’d be a real shame if he somehow broke Dragon. Better to avoid that.

Oh my gooooodness, they’re definitely an item! I’m strangely pleased about this, this is great. I hope they manage to stay and work together for a good while! Seems to me Defiant trusts Dragon unconditionally, this is great, and Dragon even sounds embarrassed when talking to him. I love this, seriously, this is fantastic. Is Dragon and Defiant a pairing the readers like? I hope so!

His thoughts even sound genuinely fond of her, it’s like they complement each other. While he works on fixing the prosthesis on his legs he thinks about Dragon’s quirks and how her ways of emulating people aren’t perfect and may come intimidating or intense, but he likes it. I suspect that’s part of the reason why Dragon likes him, because he doesn’t mind at all and even understands her.

While he works on her programming, she checks his adjustment to the prosthesis, criticizing them and pointing out flaws, while Defiant steps further and further away from having flesh. To point that out, Dragon plans to use a game they made up for testing sensitivity, but it instead turning into physical pleasure. Wow, this relationship really skyrocketed ever since they left Brockton Bay. How long ago was that? Like two weeks ago?

There’s something a tad unnerving about Defiant looking at the programming and having to ask her to perform a specific action while he does so. It’s like he’s messing with her brain – which is pretty much what he said he was trying to do, yeah, but it’s still kind of unnerving.

Conversationally, he asked her, “The Undersiders are still holding the territory they did, then?”

“They kidnapped the Director long enough to get her to order the A.I. to stand down, got away from one altercation, then used some combination of Tattletale’s power and the Director’s knowledge to figure out that they could slow me down by knocking out cell towers. As far as I know, they’re in a better position than they were.”

Great! They don’t know Tattletale got that information with the power of money and all the info she got from that group that fights Dragon. Excellent. It’s not that relevant or important of a tidbit to keep away from them, but it’s good that the heroes have some misinformation.

Defiant wishes he could go and fight them, but there are bigger fishes to fry right now. Does that mean I can expect him to go fight the Undersiders once they defeat the Slaughterhouse Nine – or try to defeat them, at least? Because I’d be looking forward to that!

“And maybe I was too harsh in my judgement of Skitter.  I was angry at her, I was tired, maybe that led me to label her with some malice she didn’t have.  In retrospect, yes, she made the decisions she did, but she had reasons for doing what she did.”

“In the same way you did.”

“I wouldn’t put it like that.”

She’s right, it really is similar to what Armsmaster did. Skitter is all about using unsavory methods to get what she thinks is right. Armsmaster did the same, with more bloodshed. They’re not exactly the same, but Skitter is sloooowly reaching that same level – and that’s something I’m not sure I’m pleased about, honestly. While it’s interesting to see her sliding towards such methods, part of what I liked of Skitter was that she was trying to hold onto her moral code and try not to be as horrible as she could be. If that’s not part of her character anymore...well, it’s like she’ll lose part of her appeal.

Something about the code gets Defiant’s attention. He marks a few areas and asks for notes about the code, about the author’s ways of working. Huh. I wonder what’s going on that Defiant didn’t expect to see. I’m not sure what he’s seeing that links his own power – his tinker power, I imagine – to what he’s seeing in Dragon’s AI.

They have arrived to the town where the Slaughterhouse Nine may be at! Yet Defiant is busy focusing on the code, so there must be something really significant going on. He asks for the code and the information in intervals of four years. How old is Dragon? Either way, he thinks he noticed what’s going on.

You’re a parahuman.  I don’t have time to hunt for it now, but at some point between now and a few years after your creation, you had a trigger event.

Wow, that’s indeed incredibly significant. How can an AI have a trigger event? Was it something the creator programmed, somehow? Did Dragon have that vision of the giant things floating in space? This is very important; I wonder in what direction this will take Dragon in.

That Dragon doesn’t remember it may mean Dragon has a mental block, even though she’s data. It’s really hard to imagine such a thing being possible, but it exists, so yeah. This could be invaluable. I hope Defiant is onto something, because this could give some interesting information about trigger events.

“Well, we’ll see just how well that data was erased.  Or if it even was erased.  Could be a block keeping you from accessing a very real memory.  With luck, maybe a bit of a loophole like the one I created around your ability to create child A.I., we can unlock that memory, decrypt it or find a snapshot of it as it’s in progress.”

“To what ends?”

That’s a very good question, and Defiant admits that too. I for one think it’s good to investigate this because everything about how powers are obtained and how they affect you is a mystery. Until now I thought a brain to mutate would be necessary, given new structures needed to be created to control the powers. If Dragon effectively went through a trigger event, did her code mutate like a normal human brain would? How was it possible, how did it develop? It’ll bring almost no answers and a million questions, I’m sure, but you can’t let that stop you from research!

Right now I think Cauldron are the only ones who have progressed in any kind of investigation about this, given they can give powers, but it’s not like Defiant or Dragon have the possibility of reading their research.

Ever Dragon is interested. Nice. Defiant makes a few notes and moves to leave this in the safe PRT server, but Dragon stops the connection. She specifically says they won’t put anything about this where the PRT can take a look at it. Even though Dragon suspects maybe the PRT already knows about anything they can put on their servers, she doesn’t want to take any chances. She can’t explain right now because they have to focus on their current mission, but she promises she’ll explain later.

“I’m almost certain they already know whatever we stand to find out.  I suppose it’s unavoidable, given how close we are on so many levels, but you’re getting drawn into another fight, with an enemy that may be on the same level as the Nine or even the Endbringers.  An enemy I can’t afford to fight face to face.”

“Who?“

“I’m obligated to follow the laws of the land.  To obey the local government, no matter who they are.  When we’re done here, whether we stop the Nine outright, see them escape yet again or lose the fight, you should ask me about Cauldron.“

Oho! Interesting, Dragon considers Cauldron to be an enemy on the same level than the Slaughterhouse Nine or the Endbringers. A global threat. I wasn’t really sure if Cauldron was a good organization or not, but now I’m thinking of them as a threat. I just put a lot of stock on Dragon’s judgment, okay? Besides, it’s also rather interesting she says ‘an enemy I can’t afford to fight face to face’. It’s a curious way to say something.

I wondeeeeer...could it be Dragon’s creator has ties to Cauldron? It’s possible they already know something about anything Dragon may or may not have behind a mental block. Perhaps Dragon was created using information obtained from their research, and they programmed a trigger event with that purpose? Given Cauldron created the highest echelons of the Protectorate, I don’t think it’s much of a stretch to think they would create someone capable of dealing with the villains that aren’t their clients.

So this is the end of the interlude. I for one found it quite interesting. I’m starting to really like Defiant a lot, which is something I didn’t expect. I liked him as Armsmaster, but that was because he was unlikable and the way he affected the story and characters was interesting. Now that he’s getting character development, I’m getting interested in the end result of that. This is great.

Given this is a donation interlude, I think that means the next chapter continues the Monarch arc. What else could be left in it, I wonder. I’ll find out next time!

Next time: next update

[tgunn64]

Favorite Villains - La Squadra di Esecuzione (Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure)

Part 5 of Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure, Vento Auero, takes us to 2001 Italy, where a civil gang war between stand users creates a vaccum of power in the Venetian mafia. From this description alone, you may be able to guess this is my favorite Jojo season yet--with my love of Italian culture and organized crime stories allowing this to cater perfectly to me. It also features La Squadra di Esecuzione (Italian for 'The Hitman Team'), who may be my favorite villainous force in Jojo yet. La Squadra isn’t actually the big bad--they’re the starters our heroes face on their way, and yet the way they are motivated and weaved into the narrative make them feel like organic parts of the conflict rather than mere stepping stones. The revolting assassins are a seven course meal consisting of Formaggio, Illuso, Pesci, Prosciutto, Melone, Ghiaccio, and Risotto.

What really struck me about La Squadra was their chemistry as a team. While they fight the heroes individually, we see a good deal of their inner workings in scenes exclusive to the anime that add a lot to their characters--most notably a sequence in which their conflict with the Boss of the Passione mafia is laid out. In charge of the dirty work of assassinations, la Squadra is mistreated by the higher ups of the mafia chain and paid the least of any branch. Sick of doing the hardest work for the least money, they conspired to overthrow the mysterious boss of the gang by discovering his identity, which no one has managed to uncover. The mere notion of doing so reached the boss, who retaliated by killing two of their men, Sorbet and Gelato. La Squadra is in the middle of a meeting wondering where their missing men are, when they receive a delivery of 36 packages. They unwrap them in a chilling scene where they discover each one contains a chunk of Gelato’s corpse, cut into 36 piece and encased in formaldehyde. La Squadra’s reaction is one of terror that truly humanizes them--they were fighting an injustice inflicted upon them and they are immediately silence. One can’t blame them for revolting, but they are swiftly made an example of.

Their dreams were crushed, that is, until word got out that the boss had an estranged daughter that the heroes were protecting for him (the heroes and la Squadra both unaware that the boss only wanted his daughter protected so he could personally kill her). Realizing the potential for a weak spot and ransom, La Squadra declares their goal to usurp the boss by taking his daughter, putting them at odds with Jojo and his new mafia family. One by one, La Squadra steps up to try and kidnap the boss’ daughter from her protectors, starting with Formaggio. Formaggio, being the first to fight, is also the shortest lived of La Squadra, but this actually benefits his character in the precedent he sets. He tracks down the youngest and most naive of the hero team, Narancia, and engages him with his stand, Little Feet. Despite being mocked by his peers, Formaggio is determined to prove that his stand, which can shrink objects as long as he can will it, isn’t as useless as it sounds. He and Narancia have a chaotic and bloody battle, and the way he ruthlessly pursues this young kid sets the standard for the story--these are gangsters and they’ll fight tooth and nail for power within the same organization. Narancia, his hand forced, goes from an unassuming kid that can barely read to just as much a violent mafia enforcer when he needs to defend himself, and it’s this flip in perspective that makes their battle so memorable. Cars are wrecked and blood is spilled as Formaggio tries to shrink Narancia and feed him to rats as well as throw shrunk down pieces of furniture from his pocket before expanding them in mid air.

A stand that can reduce objects’ size is much more suited to killing than one may realize--we see an assassination courtesy of Formaggio in a restaurant where he shrinks down a car and drops it into the drink of a politician the team’s been hired to kill. The politician unwittingly swallows the car, cuing Formaggio to release his powers, expanding the car inside his target and tearing him apart from the inside. I love Araki’s talent for coming up with idiosyncratic and unique powers that feel more like creative and intelligent phenomenon than mere “this guy gets fire powers and this guy gets shrinking powers”, and Formaggio is just one exception among the deadly hitmen lurking within La Squadra. Next on the list is IIluso, and to be blunt he’s the one I have the least to say about. He has very little personality to speak of outside of being a sort of indiscreet jerk even among his peers (quicker than anyone to call Formaggio’s stand useless and to air Sorbet and Gelato’s dirty laundry that they were an item). Even his stand, Man in the Mirror, I just feel is a poor man’s version of the part three villain Centerfold and his stand, Hanged Man. It also sucks that the good guy he fights is Fugo, who ends up written out of the story halfway through so he basically helps to introduce a stand that battles once and never shows up again.....Eeeeh, moving on.

The only two who cooperate at once are Prosciutto and Pesci, the duo of mentor and rookie gangsters. The composed and experienced Prosciutto gives lessons on the art of crime and assassination to the nervous Pesci, who at the start of the series has never even killed. Even though they aren’t my personal favorites, I think the short arc Prosciutto and Pesci go through in their chunk of episodes is the most dynamic of the bunch. The first lesson Prosciutto gives Pesci is to act instead of talk, and to have the confidence that he has already killed his foe rather than to be planning to. The unsure Pesci is eager to impress his mentor, who he calls a brother, a term of endearment in the mafia--but he’s easily scared and doesn’t have the constitution that’s expected of him. It doesn’t help that his Stand, Beach Boy, a fishing pole with a line that can go through solid objects, is easy to fumble and not as efficient as Prosciutto’s Grateful Dead, which rapidly ages his targets. But we see an interesting turn occur. Bruno confronts the duo as they ransack the train in search of the Boss’ daughter. With his brother by his side, Pesci actually manages to hold his own with Bruno a fair deal. Beach Boy turns out to be a perfect counter to Bruno’s Sticky Fingers, and Prosciutto is highly complimentary of his protege for the first time. The battle continues as Prosciutto tells Pesci to keep watch at the front of the train, Beach Boy’s line extended while he finishes Bruno off. Things don’t go that way though, and Bruno throws Prosciutto off the train and beneath the tracks. Pesci senses something is off...and sees the aging effects of the Grateful Dead wearing off the train’s passengers. His teacher had died just as he earned his approval.

And in a complete turn, Pesci’s fears disappear as his resolve hardens to fulfill his mission and kill the man that killed his ‘brother’. An angered train passenger calls Pesci ‘mammoni’ (Italian for Mama’s Boy, and the insult the other Squadra members would throw at Pesci) and Pesci takes his first life by killing him on the spot before stopping the train and challenging Bruno to a final duel of honor. I was sincerely rooting for Pesci at this point--he didn’t have good intentions but I was genuinely pretty sad that Bruno ultimately slayed him as well. I kind of really love that a stand as seemingly goofy as Beach Boy proved extremely deadly as he threw the line into Bruno’s chest and tied it around his heart, nearly killing him in a moment that had me on the edge of my seat.

This brings us to La Squadra’s resident freakshow, Melone. Melone is nearly the gang’s mad scientist type, the weirdo everyone lets lick his lips in the corner but they keep around for his brilliance. As if his habit of eyeing potential victims wasn’t enough, his stand is probably the most disturbing in the team--the laptop shaped Babyface. Before he gets his turn to fight, we constantly see Melone people watching and ogling pretty women. It’s hard to imagine this vile gangster having a nice idea of what he wants to do with these women, but when you grow to understand how Babyface works, you realize just how terrifying he is. By attaining the blood of a strong Stand user (in this case, Bruno, which he finds after his fight with Pesci) in the laptop, he can find a victim (preferably to Melone, a beautiful woman) whose body can be combined with the blood to create a living homunculus. The Homunculus has unlimited potential, and Melone can use Babyface to educate him in ways of assassination. I really love the imagery of Melone gently teaching his homunculus like it’s a little child, but precisely what he’s teaching him is torture and murder. It perfectly encompasses his depravity despite fancying himself a savante of sorts. Like most children, Melone finds that his Homunculus is too hot blooded to take orders for long, which proves his undoing. Unable to cooperate, the rapidly pubescent Homunculus fails to cooperate with his ‘father’, and both fall to Jojo’s might. Leaving just one member of la Squadra besides the BIG man himself.

Ghiaccio, my favorite member of la Squadra. From the moment I saw him at the first meeting between the disgruntled assassins, something about such a sleek design offset by such a garish face and the shouting vocal chords of Nobuhiko Okamoto (Bakugo in My Hero Academia) really drew me in. Temperamental and incredibly vocal, Ghiaccio isn’t afraid to say what everyone else is thinking. He calls the check they get from the boss chump change and asserts that la Squadra deserves better. He’s kinda the foundation of the mentality that way--even if everyone else was just too subtle to say so. That’s FAR from the only thing he’s mad about it though. Ghiaccio takes great pride in his Italian blood and detests anyone that would use the American pronunciation of ‘Venice’ for the city of Venezia. He damages his own damn car worked up over mere turns of phrase, a very different personality from the cool headed Prosciutto, intelligent Melone, or bewildered Pesci. Ghiaccio seems bullheaded and brash, but you’re not brash if you can back it up. Ghiaccio takes on both Guido Mista and Jojo with his deadly stand, White Album, which lowers temperatures around him to below sub-zero, to the point that an armor of ice forms around him. Remember how I said the huge strength of Jojo’s is that no one is ever JUST the ice guy or so on? Ghiaccio perfectly encompasses that. He isn’t a cryomancer per se, he just makes things SUPER cold, and has mastered his own ability. He chases the heroes in their car by forming ice skates out of his armor and freezing the road as he travels. Guido, with his sharp shooting Six Pistol stand, finds himself useless because White Album literally freezes the air around Ghiaccio, creating translucent shields that reflect projectile attacks, a tactic Ghiaccio calls “Gently Weeps”.

Ghiaccio may be a tantrum throwing psycho, but his conviction and overall moxie more than provides context to supply his attitude. His final confrontation is fucking BRUTAL. Guido fires away at Ghiaccio, who continually shields himself, not hurt or penetrated, but pushed backwards, into a spike on a light post. The spike barely penetrates the back of Ghiaccio’s neck, while Guido keeps shooting. Every bullet fires back INTO GUIDO, but with every push he shoves Ghiaccio further into the spike. The two literally have a game of chicken for who bleeds out first. But Ghiaccio reveals he’s won because HE HAS FROZEN HIS OWN SPURTING BLOOD, WHICH IS SUPPORTING HIS NECK FROM BEING SKEWERED ANY FURTHER. He outlasts Guido and for all intents and purposes, would have won, had Jojo not revealed himself to have survived his own encounter before he returned to finish the job. Ghiaccio talks of conviction and resolve, and you can’t fault him considering he kept fighting far past the point most would call death. It’s hard to look down on his temper when he’s as goddam hardcore as he is. I also think it's really cool how he counter's Jojo's Golden Experience, which creates life, by creating an inhospitably cold environment around him--I would've loved to see more of him as a foil.

So. Six really good trash boys fall, and all that’s left is the head of the snake, Risotto Nero, the towering boss of the Hitmen who is ready to open a can on those that made fools of his brothers. Risotto is a reasonable boss, he encouraged teamwork (quelling conflict between Illuso and Formaggio), but not to the point of romanticism (encouraging that everyone forget Sorbet and Gelato and move forward.) Despite this, in battle Risotto is anything but soft. Metallica is a microscopic stand that lives within Risotto’s blood stream. The deadly hitman can manifest metal in any shape he desires by focusing on the iron in his target’s blood. Meaning just by using his stand and focusing really hard, he can put nails in your hands, razor blades in your head, and needles in your mouth. Fighting Risotto isn’t a matter of combat, it’s one of torture, befitting to his nature as mafia enforcer. We see him squeezing info from an informant by continually creating and driving nails into his hand--and that’s really what he boils down to. He isn’t the kind to dazzle you with strategy or prove his superiority with incredible skill, he’ll overwhelm you with the most morbid pain he can imagine, and more or less with a mere thought, because it’s his job to kill, extort, and push his victims to their limit until they talk.

And such a dreadful foe doesn’t find himself engaging Jojo, Bruno, or Guido….but Doppio, the meek messenger boy of Passione whose only stand ability is to see ten seconds into the future. Risotto personally bullies the weaker foe and experiences little resistance, laying on excruciating punishment, demanding info on the Boss and his daughter. True to his nature as a mafioso, Risotto declares he’ll torment Doppio as long as it takes, as the sheer pressure forces Doppio to release a latent ability...King Crimson, the stand of the mysterious boss. An ecstatic Risotto realizes Doppio isn’t just the right hand of the boss, he IS Diavolo, the boss, hiding in plain sight. Risotto is about to achieve his dreams by killing the boss..who erases time and saves himself, making way for intervention by Narancia, who riddles Risotto with Aerosmith’s bullets to save who he assumes is the innocent Doppio, who manages to protect his identity for a bit longer. And I think this final end to La Squadra speaks to the tragedy of the team and of the narrative of Jojo Part 5 as a whole. It’s a story of a civil gang war--no one was born evil, they simply picked their sides, and at a certain point, they all had the same enemy in the form of Diavolo. Had no one been deceived by Diavolo’s enigma, Bruno and Risotto’s teams could have cooperated. However, Bruno was serving the boss while Risotto was fighting him, and when paradigms shifted, they were still in the wrong place, destroying each other in the name of an erroneous conflict. Though that may sound like a waste, there is nothing more romantically mafia-esque than dying for your chosen side out of conviction and loyalty. To do so defines being a gangster. You're not expendable if you fought for your brothers. The teachings of Prosciutto, cunning of Illuso, conviction of Ghiaccio, efforts of Pesci, intelligence of Melone, resolve of Formaggio, and capo honor of Risotto all could’ve been assets in another life, but the crossing bullets of a gang war scattered them, and if nothing else, made them insanely memorable villains.