#it’ll be fun unless I somehow fuck it up drastically

[nocomforthere]

Get my mom to understand that we can bring my clarinet to a repair shop instead of getting a whole new one challenge!!! (IMPOSSIBLE)

[lumiolivier]

The Good Old Days Chapter Nine:  Beauty and the Streets

A/N:  Hi, friends!  Look.  I’m just going to come out and say this now.  This is my favorite chapter title so far.  I don’t know why, but I love it so much.  So, reward my hard ass work with some validation.  Not to sound desperate, but fuuuuuuck.  Anyway, you know where I’ll be if you need me, k? x

ICYMI:  Chapter Eight:  The Power of Observation

I had a feeling deep in my bones that the training I’d have to go through in order to take over for the Old Man someday would be extensive.  There was bound to be parts of said training I wasn’t going to be all that big of a fan.  Being holed up in a dressing room of some ritzy ass department store?  Definitely securing a cozy spot in the top five.  I could feel the weird looks the second I walked in.  What the hell is a piece of shit like me doing in a place like this?  Am I the Old Man’s charity case?  Am I his sugar baby?  Are we even in here together?  Am I lost? At least with the door closed, no one can see me.  No one can cast their unnecessary judgment.

 “Hey, Old Man…” That didn’t mean my skin crawled any less, “Is this all really necessary?”

 “Yes,” he answered flatly.

 “But…!”

 “It’s non-negotiable, Frankie,” the Old Man put his foot down, “This girl deserves a little bit of effort, don’t you think?”

 “Yeah, but…”

 “I’m not hearing it, Frankie,” he shut me up, “Take your bitching elsewhere.  It’s barely a step up from what you already got.  You make it sound like you’re being forced to sleep in a three-piece suit.”

 “Top hat and tails,” I jabbed.

 “Alright, smartass,” the Old Man let that one slide.  Gracias a dios.  I thought he would’ve handed my ass to me for something like that, “Subtlety is key with anything.  Like this. It’s not a drastic change by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s just enough of an upgrade to make a slight impact.  If you work in layers with subtlety, the world is yours.  It’s like they say with the frog in the water.”

 “I’m not following you, Old Man.”

 “If you put a frog in boiling water,” he explained, “It’ll want to jump out immediately, right? Water’s too hot.”

 “Right.”

 “But,” he added, “If you put the frog in cold water and gradually heat it, the frog has no idea it’s being boiled alive.”

 “Things aren’t working out too well for the frog,” I noticed, “I feel him.”

 “How did your mama ever put up with you, Frankie?”

 “I had two older brothers that made me look better in comparison.  I’m the fucking golden child.”

 “Just…” I heard the Old Man lean against the wall, “Anything that doesn’t look like you got into a fight with a chain link fence.  Or just escaped prison.  I don’t ask much for you.”

 “Fine,” I rolled my eyes, fully dressed again.  Nothing had a hole in it.  Nothing had been fixed.  Everything was in its original state, “There.  Better?”

 “Considerably,” he approved.  But then, a woman came up behind him.  A real beauty, too.  Damn, Old Man…

 She started getting a little closer with him.  Her arms were wrapped around his.  Damn, Old Man…I see you, “How are you doing, Gregorio?  Do you need anything?”

 “I’m wonderful, sweetheart,” the Old Man put her hands up to his lips, “Thank you.  I appreciate it, but I think we got it handled.  Ok?”

 “Ok…” the woman floated away, heavily swooning.  I didn’t get it.  I mean, the Old Man wasn’t the worst looking creature in the world, but somehow, it was more than that.  

 “And that, my dear Frankie,” he threw an arm around me, “is how that’s done.”

 “What did you just do?” I wondered, still totally fucking dumbfounded.

 “You know how I told you to work in subtlety?”

 “Yeah.”

 “That’s how you work in subtlety,” the Old Man took great pride in his work.

 “How many do you got on the hook at once?” I asked.

 “On average?” he thought it over, “Probably four or five, depending on the day.  Would you ever guess I didn’t remember her name?”

 “You don’t even remember her name?” I gasped, “Damn, Old Man.  If you don’t mind me saying this, you’re a fucking hound.”

 “I do what I can,” the Old Man shrugged.

 “So,” I assumed, “That’s why you called her sweetheart.  It makes her feel all special and warm and fuzzy inside while simultaneously saving your own ass.”

 “You’re a quick study, kid,” he smiled, “I’m proud of you.”

 “Thanks, Old Man,” I melted inside.  Just a little bit.

 “I got you taken care of,” the Old Man started pulling price tags off, “You go wait by the door, so they don’t think you’re stealing.”

 “Ok.” I wasn’t going to fight with him.  I’m pretty sure that receipt alone could pay next month’s rent.  That’s not a bill I need to see.  Chances are, I’d throw up.  This was way too fucking nice for someone like me.  I mean, I know it’s going to be me one day, but I didn’t think that one day would come this soon.  Surprises are neat.  And if I do say so myself, I look damn good…

 But none of that mattered. I was about to get the girl.  In a few short minutes, I was going to get the girl. I was going to have my second chance. Unless she stands me up or Veronica didn’t get to her in time or some bullshit like that.  Because that’s my level of cosmic luck.  I hoped to all things holy, unholy, and morally neutral that I’d be able to sit down at the Bean and see her walk in and suddenly have Sixpence None the Richer playing in the background for some ungodly reason. Because it fits.  That’s why.  

 “Hey, Frankie,” the Old Man started walking out.  I’m guessing it’s safe to follow him without setting off the alarms, “Where did you say you were taking this girl again?”

 “The Bean,” I told him, “Why?”

 “I like the Bean,” he smiled a bit, “It’s cozy, quaint, public.  Very old Williamsburg.  And if you go at the right time of the day, the people watching is excellent.”

 “That’s a little unsettling…”

 “It helps with the whole art of observation thing,” the Old Man threw the car door open, “But it’s a little late in the day for me to hit up the Bean.  Peak hours are between eight and nine.”

 “Why do you say that?” I wondered.

 “Old people and hipsters,” he giggled, “Hell of a mix.  The old people don’t know how to react to the hipsters.  The hipsters don’t know what to think of the old people.  The chaos is beautiful, kid.  Like watching art come to life.”

 “Hey, Old Man…” I could hardly sit still, “I…”

 “You’re nervous, aren’t you, Frankie?”

 I hate when he does that, “Yeah.  That obvious?”

 “To a well-trained eye,” he nodded, “What’s got you worried?”

 “What if she doesn’t show up?”

 “Then, you still got coffee today,” the Old Man settled me, “Then, you took yourself out.  It’s not a bad thing to be by yourself once in a while, Frankie.  I’m guessing you don’t get a lot of that.”

 “Not really,” I admitted. Now that I thought about it, I didn’t get much time to myself.  More often than not, I’d be with my brothers or I’d be with Mama or I’d be with someone. I was hardly ever alone.  I always thought that was a good thing.

 “Then, even if she doesn’t show up,” he assured me, “This is not all for naught.  And at the end of the day, you still need to come back to the Narrows.  I got a few places coming up on their collection dues and I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not go do that.  For the plain and simple fact that I don’t want to.  That’s what I have you for.”

 “I know,” I sat and bounced my knee a little more, needing for this excess energy to go somewhere.

 “Tell you what, kid,” the Old Man put a hand on my shoulder, “If this doesn’t go over and you’re stuck here by yourself, we’ll scrap your collection job tonight and do something fun, k?”

 “Thanks, Old Man,” I smiled a bit, “I appreciate it.”

 “That’s what I’m here for,” the car pulled up to the curb.  Holy shit, that was fast, “Now, go on, Frankie.  Go make me proud.  Go get your girl.”

 “That was the plan,” I pushed myself out of the back of the Old Man’s town car and took a step toward the door.

 “Hold on!” the Old Man rolled his back window down.

 “Did you need something?” I wondered.

 “Here,” he peeled off a hundred and put it in my hand, “You don’t need to be running out of money while you’re here.”

 “Old Man…” I gasped, “I’m good.  This is a little…”

 “Nope,” the Old Man cut me off, “Don’t give me that.  Go on, kid. Go get your girl.”

 I looked back up at the Bean’s sign, but when I turned around to yell at the Old Man some more, he was already gone.  Dammit…Well…Here goes nothing.  I walked into the Bean and ordered an espresso and a chocolate chip cookie. Hopefully, the espresso will help calm my nerves a little.  Either that or it’s going to amplify them at least tenfold.  That’s the gamble I’m willing to make.  Please show up, Vanessa.  I don’t care if it’s to spit on my shoes.  I just need to see your face again.  The Old Man might be a little pissed about you spitting on brand new shoes, but I need to see that face.

 “Frankie…?” a husky, yet gentle voice came up behind me.

 Holy shit, it’s her. Yet…This was different.  I got a better look at her in the light.  Power of observation, just like the Old Man said. Slight rip in her jacket sleeve, designer bag, chai latte in her hand, and legs for days…Dios mio, “Yeah…Hi.”

 “Hi,” she smiled, glancing over at the empty seat, “Do you mind?”

 “Please,” I insisted, “Not at all.”

 “So,” Vanessa sat across from me, “I hear you met my little sister earlier this afternoon.”

 “I hear you met my oldest brother last night,” I retaliated with no intentions of getting so defensive. It’s just a default setting.  And now, I feel kind of bad.

 “I’m assuming he was your brother,” she thought, “He said his name was César and said his brother thought I was cute.”

 “Hold on,” I stopped her, “Did he specifically say Frankie or did he say Tony?”

 “He said Frankie,” she assured, “Promise.  But it wasn’t a half bad idea to use Veronica as a go-between.”

 “I wanted to ask you about that,” I told her, “What did you mean you had eyes on you last night?”

 “Just that,” Vanessa started to relax, “My sister.  Violet, not Veronica.  She’s a total fucking narc.  Veronica would take my secrets to the grave.  She knows about loyalty and solidarity between siblings.  Violet would sell me out to our mother for Costco samples.”

 “Hey…” I hushed her, “Don’t knock Costco samples.  Those are worth the membership.”

 “Sorry,” she sighed out, “Violet gets me stressed.”

 “Here,” I broke my cookie in half and handed the other half off to her, “You look like you could use this more than me.”

 “What are we, five?” Vanessa giggled.  I didn’t care about that.  All I needed was to get her to smile again.  I’d hate to see that go away.

 “So what if we are?”

 “Alright,” she gladly accepted my offer, “Frankie…There are some things about me…They’re not exactly desirable.”

 “Really?” I had a hard time believing she was into anything shady.  Considering my recent employment, I doubt she could surprise me, “Try me.”

 “My last name is Scarlotti,” Vanessa confessed, picking at the cardboard ring around her cup, “My family owns half this city.  It’s maddening.”

 “Wait,” I wondered, keeping my voice down, “Do you come from mafia?”

 “No,” she shook her head, “Nothing like that.  My family’s business is a lot more legit than that.  But it doesn’t make it any less like hell.”

 “What makes you say that?”

 “Well,” Vanessa sipped from her latte, “It’s the expectations that come along with it. It’s not so much my dad, but it’s my mother.  You’re Mommy’s perfect princess.  Her debutant. Every action you do immediately reflects on the family, Vanessa.  It’s just…It’s bullshit…And…I’m venting…I’m sorry.  I don’t mean to vent, but…I just…”

 “Vanessa,” I spoke softly, doing my best to calm her down, “It’s alright.”

 “Really?” her spiral slowed, “I’m not scaring you off or anything?”

 “Not at all,” I swore, “Trust me.  I’ve seen my fair share of hell.”

 “I know I should be grateful for the life I have,” she started working on her half of cookie, “Because it could always be worse.  That’s why Violet took me to Williamsburg last night.  She wanted me to see how much worse it could be.  But…”

 “But?” I wondered.

 “I love coming down to Williamsburg,” Vanessa smiled, “If I had my way, I’d live down here instead of the Upper East Side.  I love the little cafés and the clubs down here and…Just the pulse of the city.  It beats different down here than what it does up there.  Manhattan’s a different monster.  But something about coming down to Williamsburg…I have yet to find somewhere else in all five boroughs where I feel more comfortable than here.”

 “I know how you feel,” I gave her a nod, “I’ve lived in Williamsburg for as long as I can remember. But every once in a while, I wondered what it’d be like to live up in Manhattan.  The upper echelons.  The other half.  But at the end of the day, even if I did have the means to move uptown, I don’t think I could do it.  This is still home.  It always will be.”

 “I envy you…” she was quiet for a second, but then, she came to again, looking at me confused, “Why am I telling you all this?”

 “My mother always said I had one of those faces,” I shrugged, “Really and truly, Vanessa, it’s alright.  If you need to vent, then you need to vent.  It’s really not a problem.  Don’t worry about it.  If you want to vent, keep going.  If you want to change the subject, I totally understand.  I’ll leave it up to you.”

 “Better conversation topic please,” Vanessa decided, “Besides, I feel like all I’ve done since I sat down is ramble on about me.  I want to hear more about you.  I already know enough about me.”

 “But,” I caught a glimpse of a clock, not needing to go down the rabbit hole of my tragic backstory quite yet, “We don’t have much time together.”

 “Then…” The Old Man told me to keep an eye on someone’s hands.  What they do when they’re nervous.  Where they are.  But I suddenly found her hand in mine.  They’re…so soft, “We should make the most of the time we have together, shouldn’t we?”

 “What class are you leaving me for anyway?” I teased, hoping I didn’t cut too deep.

 “Communications,” Vanessa rolled her eyes, “Yay.”

 “You don’t need it,” I brushed her off, “I think you communicate just fine.  See?  And I didn’t even need a degree to tell you that.”

 “You’re cute,” she giggled a bit…That laugh…It’s fucking adorable, “As much as I’d love to believe you, I need this class.  Then, hello, graduation day…in two years.”

 “What’s your major?” I asked.

 “Law.” Holy shit, this girl’s going to be a fucking lawyer?  And she’s sniffing around me?  Oh, Vanessa, you are definitely the kind of girl that was put in my path at the right time.  That’s for damn sure, “I’m debating between going into estate planning or being a defense attorney.”

 “Why not both?” I suggested, “A girl like you.  You seem like your brain could handle it.”

 “I’ve thought about it,” she admitted, “But I only have so much in the trust fund.  I need to spend it smart.”

 “I could think of worse ways to spend it,” I figured, “Could pick up a gambling problem…Cocaine…Maybe hookers, if you were feeling particularly spicy one night.”

 “No,” Vanessa laughed some more, “I’ll stick with an education, but thank you.  Your suggestions were greatly appreciated.”

 “If you don’t mind me asking,” I wondered, “Why the hell would you want to go into estate planning?”

 “Are you kidding?” her eyes lit up, sparkling more now than when we first met, “Do you know what kind of front row seat I’d have to some of the most knockdown, drag out family drama? Some of the families my family is connected to, when they’ve had major deaths that involve big wills…Oh, they’re fucking bloodbaths.  The closest of relatives are suddenly the worst of enemies.  Someone gets written out while they’re still alive.  It is an absolute disaster.  From a purely psychological standpoint, it’s fascinating to watch.  Kind of like watching animals at the zoo.  It’s amazing what lengths some people would go through for someone else’s money or their possessions after they’re dead.  It’s so pointless, but it’s still fun to watch.”

 “You know,” I started to worry about this girl and what kind of mental state she was in. However, she had a point.  And a damn good one, “That’s kind of twisted.”

 “I know,” she bit on her lip, “But I can’t help it.  I don’t start the drama, but I sure as hell don’t mind being the occasional spectator.”

 “That’s still kind of twisted…”

 “It’s the same principle as watching a soap opera,” Vanessa shrugged unapologetic, “Only it’s real life and in front of my eyes.”

 I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t watched my fair share of Telemundo with Mama over the years, so I got it, “I like you, Vanessa…”

 “I like you, too,” her smile melted me to my very core.  I think I could keep this one around.  For a little while anyway.  But then, she caught a glimpse of her watch, “Shit…I need to be going.  I hate to run, but…”

 “It’s alright,” I let it go, “I understand.”

 “Thank you,” Vanessa got up from her seat.  

 This was it.  I needed to shoot my shot and shoot it big. This time, I’m not blowing it, “Hey, Vanessa?”

 “Hmm?” she threw her bag over her shoulder.

 “Can I call you tonight?” I asked.

 “Sure,” Vanessa allowed, “How about around nine o’clock?  I should be home.”

 “If I can get a spare minute,” I nodded, “I have to work tonight.”

 “I really hope you do,” she played with a stray lock of her hair, “Because…I’m glad I gave you a second chance.”

 “I’m glad you gave me a second chance, too,” my heart started racing.  Damn near ready to burst out of my chest.

 “It was nice meeting you, Frankie,” Vanessa waved behind her.

 “You, too…” I hated to see her go…But damn, to watch that girl leave was like a work of art.

 Vanessa…She’s definitely something.  That’s for sure.  She’s definitely got some of that debutant in her.  There’s no doubt about it.  But there’s more.  There’s so much more.  There’s a sadist…There’s a sweetheart.  There’s a caged bird begging to be set free.  And if I’m the one to do that, then so be it.  I’d be happy to.  Now that I think about it, I really and truly hated to see her go.  It’s too bad we didn’t get to spend a little more time together.  She didn’t need to be late for her class.  

 And I got to share my cookie with her.  Not to be that guy about it, but I hadn’t shared a cookie with someone since I was probably five.  Dammit, Vanessa, you were right.  Go ahead, corazón.  I won’t stop you.  Now, what to do, what to do.  Dare I go back to the Narrows?  No.  I think I should head home first.  I’m sure someone’s worried about me.  I haven’t been home all day.  And I barely left a note for Tony and César.  Besides, they needed to know about her, too.

[skygemspeaks]

16-year-old Yuri Plisetsky is a young noble. He's pretty happy with his life - he's the youngest son, so he's not expected to take over the estate or shoulder any responsibilities. He just kinda...does whatever the hell he wants.

No one really knows where Yura is most of the time either. He just...sometimes disappears for weeks at a time, and no one really bothers to find out where he goes (visiting his best friend Otabek in the neighbouring kingdom).

No one really cares because Yura is not only the youngest son, he's also a bastard.

He's not really too upset. He's made his peace with it. He's never really gonna amount to anything in life. But then. Surprise surprise, turns out the man his mother had had an affair with was a cousin of the Queen mother.

The current king, 35-year-old Viktor Nikiforov, doesn't have any heirs, with no plans to have any either, and so he decides to name his young cousin, Yura, as his heir.

And so, overnight, Yura finds his status in life completely changed, not that he's complaining - don't look a gift horse in the mouth and all that.

He's all packed up and moved to the palace within a week.

But being a prince isn't all fun and games, like his old life had been. He has new responsibilities to carry out and countless things to learn - from history and foreign policy, to swordplay and ballroom dancing. Yura takes to his new life like a fish to water - he finds he likes to learning about all these things, likes serving his country well as its future ruler.

The only thing that puts a damper on things is his new guardians - he quickly finds out that rumours of the king's frosty relationship with his husband are 100% true. Though they may present a strong, united front to the public, it becomes immediately clear that Viktor and his consort, Yuuri Katsuki, the first prince and younger brother of the queen of Yutopia, can barely stand each other.

Viktor Nikiforov truly lives up to his reputation as the ice king - he's always distant, his eyes cold and calculating, his smile devoid of any warmth whatsoever. He's coldly untouchable, barely even human.

On the other hand, his husband Yuuri at first seems to be his complete opposite, but is in fact just the same. He smiles sweetly at everyone, warm and friendly. He likes helping people out and listening to their troubles and taking care of them.But despite all that, he keeps everyone at arm's length. He listens, but he never talks about himself, never leans on anyone else, never talks about his own troubles or his fears or his aspirations. He never lets anyone see him as anything less than perfect, composed, untouchable.

Yura has to have dinner with both of them once a week, and those single-handedly the most stressful times of his week, the moments he hates the most - the tension is always so thick he could cut it with a knife, turning the delicious food to cardboard in his mouth.

After a month of living at the castle, Yura finally learns what the deal is between the two.

He's having tea with Lady Babicheva one day, and she tells him that things hadn't always been like this between the king and his consort. Mila tells him that once upon a time, Viktor and Yuuri had been head over heels in love.

Yura doesn't believe a single word of it. "What happened, then?" he asks skeptically.

"The Queen mother was killed,” she tells him softly, voice barely above a whisper.

Yura is confused. "I thought she had a heart attack?" he asks.

Mila leans in conspiratorially, dropping her voice even more, so that Yura can barely hear her. "It was covered up by the king," she tells him, eyes darting this way and that to make sure no one is around to hear them.

“Why?" asks Yura, still confused as all hell. "Wasn't the king said to be extremely close to his mother? I'd think he'd be the one most eager to see the killer put to justice!"

"He was!" Mila confirms. "But he was putting the safety of the country before his own feelings."

Yura is confused for a few seconds more, before horrible realization suddenly dawns on him, and a wide-eyed, horrified expression comes on his face.

Mila nods. "Prince Katsuki admitted to having her assassinated." 

And suddenly, everything makes sense to Yura. Before Viktor and Yuuri had married, their two countries had been at war for generations. They had formed a shaky truce only two decades ago, and the marriage between Viktor and Yuuri had been meant to strengthen their alliance.

The Queen mother had been an extremely popular ruler in her time on the throne, and if it had come out that she had been murdered by her own son-in-law, a war would have been unavoidable.

When she had died though, the two countries' economies had only just gotten back on their feet, and they were both still working to rebuild. Another war would have been disastrous for both sides.

So Viktor had let his own emotions take the backseat, had told everyone that she had died of a heart attack. Within the castle walls, however, he had taken drastic measures. He had put his husband under 24 hour surveillance.

(The rest of the world had cooed at how sweet it was, that he was so worried for his husband's safety that he had given him four constant bodyguards to protect him at all hours of the day)

Yuuri had been forced to move out of their shared bedchambers. He had been sentenced to house arrest, forbidden from leaving the palace grounds unless he was attending official functions with Viktor. He spent most of his time alone, in his lonely tower bedroom. 

Officially, the reason for all this was that Yuuri was sickly - that he stayed indoors due to his failing health. Only a select few in Viktor's inner circle knew the truth of it.

And even now, five years later, Mila is still heartbroken about it all. She used to be close to Yuuri, had spent many an afternoon strolling with him through the castle gardens and giggling with him over tea and court gossip. She still misses her friend like an almost physical ache, and his betrayal is still an open wound.

Yura, however, is still somewhat skeptical. Something feels........off to him.

He tries to stay away from Yuuri for a while after that,, just to be on the safe side. But the more he thinks about it, the more things just don’t add up, and the more he becomes *convinced* that there's something up

(There's no way anyone can just pretend to be that disgustingly nice all the time.)

There's nothing more that Yuri hates than an unsolved mystery, and so he starts going out of his way to talk to Yuuri, to spend time with him.

Yuuri is surprised at first, but absolutely delighted. After so many years of isolation, it's nice to have some social interaction. He had thought he would spend the next few decades alone, until Viktor had finally abdicated his throne, and Yuuri might hopefully be dismissed to move back to his family's home in Yutopia, his duty complete.

The two Yuris grow extremely close over time, and Viktor starts to get wary, worried that his husband is trying to influence his heir as well. He tries to keep Yura away from Yuuri, trying to keep the impressionable teenager safe. But Yura keeps sneaking his way into Yuuri's chambers, even after Yuuri warns him to stay away for his own safety.

Eventually, after several months of this, Yura finally gets the truth out of Yuuri.

The assassins had, in fact, been sent by a noble house from the country of  Svizra, one of their longtime allies, without the knowledge of their king Giacometti. The nobles had been hoping to take advantage of their weakened state in the aftermath of the war with Yutopia, and he been trying to instigate a war. 

A war which would almost certainly have spelled the end of the Nikiforovs’ dynasty.

But they hadn't accounted for just how fiercely loyal Yuuri was to his husband and his new country. If the public had found out that the Queen mother had been assassinated by their supposed allies, there would be no way to avoid a war - whether a war with the country of Svizra, or a civil war.

So Yuuri had claimed all the blame himself. Because he knew that, with their precarious alliance on the line, there would be no way Viktor would be able to  take official action against him, and would be forced instead to cover up the fact that foul play had been involved.

Yuri Plisetsky is rightfully horrified, and absolutely furious. "What the hell, dumbass!? WHY DIDN'T YOU JUST TELL VIKTOR ABOUT IT?" he demands. "You didn't have to take all the blame! Viktor would have understood!!!”

And Yuuri and his bleeding heart refuses to look at Yura when he replies, quietly, that he didn't want Viktor and Chris's relationship to suffer because of it. Because even if it was proven that the king had had no part in the assassination, his failure to notice the growing unrest in his court would have put strain on their alliance. And Svizra is a powerful country whose friendship will be indispensable in the future while their two countries rebuild themselves.

Yura wants to just scream because it’s not fucking fair and Yuuri is a dumbass for trying to fix everything himself, and Viktor is a dumbass for believing someone like Yuuri could ever betray him, and Christophe is a dumbass for not being able to stop all this, and everyone is just SO FUCKING STUPID.

Yuuri manages to get Yura to stay quiet about the whole thing.

He promises not to say anything to Viktor outright, but he'll be damned if he doesn't try and make his stupid cousin see his mistake somehow.

Yura starts spending more time with Viktor - starts trying to get past the icy barrier of hurt and betrayal he wears around himself like armor. 

Viktor is slightly suspicious at first; suspicious that Yuuri has put him up to this. But it's as good an opportunity as any to sway Yura back to his own side, and maybe keep him out of his husband's clutches.

It doesn't take long for Yura to get Viktor to spill the story of the assassination to him (Viktor hopes it'll serve as a warning for Yura to stay away from Yuuri, to make him see that the man is dangerous)

And from then, Yura starts planting the seeds of doubt in his stupid cousin's mind.

"What motivation would he even HAVE to kill her!?" is the first thing Yura demands. And it stops Viktor short, because he'd somehow never even thought of that.

It takes quite a bit of effort to make Viktor come around. (Because Viktor wants so badly for it to be true, for Yuuri to be innocent. He wants so badly to have his sweetheart back, but he just knows that if he lets himself hope, but it turns out that Yuuri is exactly the kind of cold-blooded murderer they think he is, it will absolutely DESTROY Viktor.)

Yes, it takes Viktor quite a while to finally come around, but even he isn't able to keep up forever against Yura's pointed questions and the nagging doubts that have started to grow and fester in his mind.

And when he finally caves and decides to have a proper investigation into the matter, Yuuri's admission of guilt, his supposed motives for killing his mother-in-law, it all falls like a wet paper bag. There are more holes in his story than a slice of swiss cheese.

And Viktor is just. So ANGRY.

Angry at himself for ever believing that his sweet Yuuri would do something so treacherous when all this time it was quite the opposite, when Yuuri was ready to give up his own happiness, his own reputation, to keep his beloved country safe.

And he's angry at Yuuri too. Because they lost FIVE WHOLE YEARS. Five years of kisses and cuddling, five years of laughter and love, five years of happiness.

And he's probably never going to forgive himself for the way he's treated Yuuri in those years.

But now they have a lifetime to make up for it.

And finally, Viktor has something more to live for. He's no longer stuck just going through the motions.

It's not all perfect, he's never going to get his mother back, but he has his husband, and that's good enough for him.

Yuuri is an absolute sweetheart who’s beloved by his people, so when news spreads of his supposed “miraculous recovery”, his return to health, the people are overjoyed.

The servants in the palace are delighted to be allowed to talk to and laugh with him again. They fuss over him for months afterwards, worrying about him pushing himself too much (and Yuuri always feels so guilty about lying to them.)

Mila and Georgi and the other nobles who had known the truth behind Yuuri's apparent "sickness" that had rendered him bedridden for the past five years are ecstatic as well.

They're so happy to have their friend back, and after five years of heartbreak and misery, everything is right in St. Petersburg again.

[jilliancares]

A Game for Those Who Seek to Find a Way to Leave Their World Behind

Summary: In which Dan finds a strange board game and ends up playing it (and releasing its horrors) with his best friend Carrie and arch enemy, Phil.

Word Count: 6.9k

TW: uhh there’s just some kind of horrifying things in there so idk good luck

Genre: angst? i guess? but it’s a happy end it’s like good angst

this is a thing now because i rewatched jumanji today and felt inspired (if you haven’t watched the movie it’s literally amazing you can find it online..... completely..... not illegal... ahem)(you can still read this even if you haven’t watched the movie but it’ll be better if you have probably)

--

Dan huffed angrily and slammed the door behind him, sadistically entertained when it resounded with a thud and his father’s angry voice followed behind him: “And don’t slam the doors!” He was glad to be out of his house, which felt stuffy and overcrowded despite the fact that it was only him and his parents living in it. He was convinced that they were taking up too much room, what with their egos so inflated.

Heart pounding with anger, Dan stomped into the woods to sulk, kicking stray branches and rocks as if they were the ones that’d offended him. He was getting into fights with his parents all the time, though he was sure that it was their fault rather than his. They didn’t understand him and didn’t bother to try to either, instead writing all his problems off as him being a dumb teenager whose problems weren’t serious enough to actually consider. It was because of this that he didn’t ever plan on telling them he was gay—he could imagine it now, how they would tell him it was just a phase or some bullshit like that. He was sixteen and hadn’t had a speck of interest in girls in his entire life, he was pretty sure he could tell his sexuality for himself, thanks.

Seated on a rock, Dan threw pebbles into the creek before him. It didn’t do much to alleviate his anger—he’d much rather chop down a tree or something drastic like that—but it was good enough to pass the time. He didn’t want to have to go back into his house any time soon.

It was just as he’d scooped up a fresh pile of pebbles that he heard it and paused in confusion. Straining his ears, Dan sat quite still and listened.

It was quiet, and kind of far off but… it was unmistakable. He was hearing drums.

Dan’s curiosity got the best of him and, without anything better to do, he climbed to his feet and set off down the river, looking around curiously as the drums grew louder the further he walked. They got louder and louder, so loud they were almost deafening, and still Dan didn’t see the source of the noise. Unease gripped him, so strong that he almost wondered if leaving his backyard had been a mistake, when he suddenly tripped on a rock and went flying forward, only to land roughly on the ground.

Groaning, Dan began to sit up, before realizing that he was face to face with a strange box, hidden half in the water and overlapped by rocks. The second he laid eyes on it, the drumming stopped.

Filled with apprehension, though curiosity as well, he reached out and grabbed the box, pulling it free of the surrounding rocks. It was worn and brown, and when he turned it over he saw a title written across the front: Jumanji.

Dan flipped open the sides of the lid, realizing at once that the thing he was looking at was a board game. And written on the side: Jumanji: A game for those who seek to find a way to leave their world behind. You roll the dice to move your token—doubles gets another turn; the first player to reach the end wins.

This sounded like exactly the game for Dan. He’d love to leave his world—and parents—behind for a little while, and feeling excited, he jumped to his feet and closed the game, crossing over the river and heading in the direction of Carrie’s house. Carrie was his best friend, and she’d do anything for Dan if he begged her enough.

Dan knocked on her front door mere minutes later, unsurprised to see that there weren’t any cars in the driveway. Her parents were rarely home—something Dan was immensely jealous of. The door swung open to reveal Carrie.

“Carrie!” Dan said excitedly, already inviting himself inside. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“What’s going on?”

“Well, I was upset because of a fight with my parents—”

“Again?”

“But I found this cool game in the river. Look.”

Carrie frowned, peering down at the box in his hands. “Listen, Dan,” she said. “I don’t know if now’s the best time…”

Ignoring her, Dan strutted into the living room, stopping immediately when he spotted Phil Lester.

“What’s he doing here?” Dan sneered. He knew that Carrie was friends with Phil, which was her only bad quality, honestly. He loved everything about her, other than the fact that she’d somehow come to be acquaintances with Phil Lester. He was a right arse, and he raised an eyebrow at Dan now, completely ignoring the venomous looks Dan was sending his way.

“Come on guys,” Carrie pleaded. “You know this stupid rivalry between you two is getting old.”

“Oh, well in that case, it’s about time we became friends!” Dan said sarcastically. Phil rolled his eyes.

“I apologize, Carrie,” Phil said, and Dan imitated him behind Carrie’s back. I apologize, Carrie. “I just don’t think I can get along with your… simpler… friends.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Dan scoffed, and Carrie groaned. This was why she never let the two of them near each other, if she could help it.

“Why don’t we all play the board game together?” Carrie suggested, gesturing to the game still held at Dan’s side. Dan wrinkled his nose.

“I don’t play board games with Phil Lester,” he said immediately.

“Scared I’ll win?” Phil rebutted.

With an angry huff, Dan slammed the game onto the table in front of Phil, letting the lids flap open. Phil didn’t deserve to play a board game as cool as this one looked, but he wasn’t going to take any shit from the other boy. Not to mention the fact that he didn’t really have anywhere else to go, and this might be better—or at least more entertaining—than going back to his house. And hopefully this way he could wipe the board with Phil’s smarmy arse and rub it in his face for the next weeks to come.

“Adventurers beware?” Phil read, reading the side flap. Dan looked up in confusion, before realizing that there was writing on both of the inside covers of the lid, and he’d only read the one. “Do not begin unless you intend to finish,” Phil continued. “The exciting consequences of the game will vanish only when a player has reached Jumanji and called out its name.”

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?” Carrie muttered.

“It’s probably just the instructions,” Dan shrugged. “Supposed to sound creepy and intense. So? Are you playing or not?”

“I guess,” Phil sighed, sounding put-upon, but he dragged himself off the couch and sat on his knees in front of the coffee table regardless. Dan opened a compartment in the lid, pulling out three game pieces: an elephant, a rhinoceros, and a monkey. Dan set them down on the board, and flinched as they suddenly flew to its edges, stuck to their starting squares.

“What the fuck?” Phil breathed, and Carrie reached towards one of the pieces, trying to pull it off the board.

“It’s stuck,” she relayed, and Dan swallowed sort of uncomfortably. What were they getting themselves into? One look at Phil, however, had Dan sure that he wouldn’t back down, and so he cleared his throat.

“There’s probably some sort of magnet in them, or something,” he said unconvincingly. “Who wants to go first?”

“I will,” Phil said, holding out his hand for the dice. Dan rolled his eyes, finding this typical. Of course Phil would want to go first, thinking he’d probably get a good roll and get a good head start. He shook his hand before releasing the dice on the board. Immediately, his rhino piece began sliding the appropriate number of spaces forward, making them all flinch backwards in surprise, and the black sphere in the center started to shimmer before green letters appeared.

Before you can reach the end of this

A lover’s lips you’ll have to kiss

Phil raised an eyebrow at the board, before directing his stare at Dan. “Where’d you get his game again?”

“Found it in the creek,” Dan said, before reaching for the dice himself. Phil sighed in annoyance.

“It doesn’t even seem very fun. What did those words mean, anyway?” They’d faded by now, but all three of them had leaned forward to read them, surprised at their appearance in the first place. Dan’s guess was that it worked sort of like a magic eight ball, different responses coming up at random.

“I don’t know,” Dan admitted. “Maybe it’s kind of like a truth or dare game tied in. If you reach the end before Carrie or me, you’ll have to go kiss someone to truly win.”

Phil scoffed. “This game is stupid,” he muttered, and Dan just shook his head in annoyance. Phil was probably only good for complaining anyway. He rolled the dice.

If you find the dice reads eight

Your legs won’t work, to no abate

If you find the dice reads five

From your mouth words won’t arrive

“That’s strange,” Dan muttered, blinking as the words began to fade away. “What, if one of you rolls an eight, my piece can’t move anymore? That’s not fair.”

“I hope I roll a five,” Phil laughed. “Then I won’t have to listen to you talk.” Carrie gave him a reprimanding look for this, before reaching for the dice herself and tossing them onto the board.

Beware the pictures on the walls

They’re not as still as you recall

Dan read the words with a confused tilt of his head, wondering what sort of challenge that was supposed to be. Suddenly, however, Phil let out a gasp and shot to his feet. “Behind you!”

Dan whipped his head around, only to watch in horror as fingers gripped the edges of a painting on the wall, pulling behind it the rest of a person’s body. It was like watching the girl from the ring emerging from the tv, only this was real, and Dan was experiencing it. The girl looked up at them, looking exactly like the one in the painting that’d adorned Carrie’s living room wall for as long as Dan could remember, except her eyes were all black.

Her lips pulled up into an eery grin, more reptilian than human, and her teeth were razor sharp. With that, she let out a hiss, and bounded forward towards Dan.

“Run!” Dan shrieked, and he jumped to his feet, stumbling out of the way just as the girl charged past him. Phil snatched the game from the table and sprinted out of the room, Dan and Carrie hot on his tail.

“What the fuck is happening?” Carrie gasped, as they charged into the kitchen and slammed the door behind them. Phil flung the game onto the counter, as if it’d burned him.

“I am not playing that,” he spat, and Dan looked between him and the board game desperately.

“You have to!” Dan burst suddenly, realizing, horrified, what the instructions actually meant.

“Are you out of your mind?” Phil demanded. “You’d have to be mad to expect me to play after that… that thing crawled out of the painting!”

“But if you don’t play, it won’t go away,” Dan pointed out. “Do not begin unless you intend to finish—we have to beat the game if we want it to return to its painting.”

“Or we could just kill it,” Phil suggested, although now he was sounding uncertain. Just then, a rhythmic banging began on the kitchen door.

“It followed us,” Carrie moaned. And then, banging—but now from the wall on the opposite side of the room.

“Carrie…” Dan whispered. “Just how many paintings do you have in your house?” As he spoke—more banging. Now from the ceiling above them; and more, from another wall, and another! Phil paled, realizing that they had no clue what the painting-monsters were capable of, and finally suspecting that they wouldn’t be able to kill them all.

“A million!” Carrie despaired. “My parents—they love art!” The banging resounded all around them, and scratching as well, as if they were all dragging their nails over the surfaces between them again and again, hoping to dig through the walls.

“We have to get out of here,” Dan said suddenly, taking charge. “Let’s get somewhere safe and beat the game.”

Looking like they wanted to protest, though without any better ideas, Phil and Carrie followed Dan to the kitchen window, which he threw open before climbing out of. They followed after him and hurried away from the house, hoping none of the painting creatures could follow. They found themselves running instead into the woods, where they set the game onto a large rock and settled around it.

“Ready?” Dan asked, words that were clearly dreaded by both Carrie and Phil. Neither of them wanted to continue the game, but it wasn’t like they could just leave those probably deadly creatures in Carrie’s house, and so Phil ended up reaching out a hand for the dice.

“Ready,” he said solemnly. They all watched anxiously, their differences forgotten, as Phil rolled the dice and got a six, each die presenting a three. Dan felt like his stomach was in knots as his piece eerily moved by itself, before they all crowded over the top of the board, watching as the letters shimmered into place.

They come in packs

And bring bad omens

Beware of Death

When seen roaming

They all whipped their heads around frantically, looking for whatever nightmarish creature was going to appear next. Nothing appeared, however, not even when they waited for five minutes, even choosing to get to their feet in preparation to run.

“Maybe it’s not going to come right away,” Carrie suggested, sounding hopeful. “It said to beware of death when we see them roaming, but it didn’t say when that’d be.”

“Hopefully we can beat the game before we see them then,” Phil muttered, and silently held out the dice toward Dan.

“No,” Dan said firmly. “You rolled doubles—you go again.”

Phil looked shocked for a moment, and a bit frightened, but he visibly steadied himself. “Oh yeah. Forgot.”

With bated breath, they all watched as Phil rolled the dice. His rhino game piece slid forward on its own, and feeling like he might throw up, Dan leaned over Carrie to watch as the words appeared.

In the dark, you must stay

Until the game has finished play

“In the dark—” Carrie began to read aloud, but was immediately cut off by Phil crying out. His eyes were wide and frantic, and they darted about every which way.

“What’s wrong?” Dan demanded, and Phil flinched at the sound of his voice.

“I—I can’t see!” he gasped, and Carrie let out a horrified squeal. Dan stared down at the letters once more, sickened, but they’d already begun to fade away.

“It’s okay,” Dan comforted, though really he felt like he might be sick. Phil was blind right now—Dan couldn’t imagine being in that situation. And from the sound of it, he would be blind until the game was over, however long that took them. What if something happened to the board and they couldn’t complete it? Would Phil be blind forever? “We’re right here with you, we won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Oh yeah right, like I can trust you,” Phil spat. He flinched as Carrie reached over and touched his arm, but accepted it when she ended up gripping his hand instead. He continued to clutch it, looking feverish, as though it was his only tether to the world.

“We just have to keep playing,” Dan pointed out. “Once we finish, you’ll be able to see again—it says so in the instructions.”

“Fine!” Phil yelled, but Dan noticed that he looked distinctly more fearful than he did angry. “Roll, then.”

Dan had momentarily forgotten that it was his turn, and he reached out shakily for the dice. He was reminded anew of what horrors might be waiting for them, though he reasoned, silently, that he wasn’t likely to go blind as well, seeing as Phil already had. He rolled a two, each die landing on one. Dan cursed his luck at getting doubles as well.

Through your eyes, it can thrive

So close them if you wish to hide

“What…” Dan whispered. What could possibly…

“What?” Phil demanded. What does it say?

“It says to close our eyes,” Carrie relayed. “That it can see through them.”

“Good thing I’m already blind, then,” Phil pointed out bitterly, and Dan looked up at him, only to keep staring in shock. Behind Phil stood a figure, looking more ghost than man. It was like seeing a shadow, but instead of being flat on the ground, it stood tall—and where its eyes should be were only white. As Dan noticed this detail, an unmistakable grin unleashed itself across the creature’s face.

“Fuck!” Dan yelled, and he hurriedly squeezed his eyes shut. “Phil run! It’s behind you!”

Blinded by his own eyelids, Dan listened to the frantic scramble as Phil charged forwards, the unmistakable sound of leaves and branches cracking under his feet as he plowed towards—

“Oof!” Dan cried, suddenly knocked onto the ground, and instinctively, he opened his eyes. Immediately the figure—which had been standing where Phil had previously occupied—turned to face them, its sickening smile back on its face.

With a curse, Dan shoved Phil off him and jumped to his feet. “Get the game, Carrie!” he commanded, gasping as something clutched his leg. It was only Phil, however, who was actually blind, and Dan grabbed his hand instinctively as he started charging through the woods, one hand held out in front of them in hopes of not running head-first into a tree.

Their footsteps were loud as they crashed through the leaves and underbrush of the forest, though, from what Dan could tell, the creature didn’t seem to be gaining on them. Perhaps it couldn’t hear—the game had said that it saw through their eyes, not that it heard through their ears.

“Where are we going?” Carrie panted sometime later. Phil’s hand was sweaty in Dan’s grip, though he wasn’t sure if it was his sweat or Phil’s. Either way, Phil wasn’t complaining about it, and so Dan was grateful.

“No idea,” Dan readily admitted. After all, he could see no more than Carrie could. “Should we look around? See if it’s still following us?”

Instead of answering his question, Carrie said: “I don’t see anything.” Tentatively, Dan peeked through squinted eyes, scanning the surrounding forest carefully, prepared to shut them the moment he saw a creepy figure. Instead, he saw nothing but forest all around them, and he let out a sigh of relief.

“I think we lost it.” Phil leaned heavily against him for a moment, at that, and Dan tolerated it for a few seconds before shoving him off.

Carrie propped open the dreaded game at this news, and Dan glared at it, not excited to see its return. He dreaded what horrors would escape from it next, and he reluctantly sat down before it, realizing belatedly that it was, once again, his turn.

The dice felt malevolent in his palm, and Dan threw them, hoping for the highest number. He just wanted to reach the center of the board already, wanted to reach Jumanji. The dice landed—three. He groaned inwardly, though it quickly became clear that his low roll was the least of his problems.

Soon you shall see

Through your teeth’s clench

That though you’re hungry

Food cannot quench

“The hell?” Dan muttered, after reading the words allowed for Phil’s benefit. “What, I’m gonna be hungry forever or something?” Moments after he said this, however, he buckled over, clutching his stomach. It hurt.

“Dan?” Carrie called desperately, and he felt her hand on his shoulder. “Dan? What’s wrong?”

Dan groaned in response. Hungry, he thought. He opened his mouth to convey this, but his mouth was hurting too, aching horribly. He raised a hand to his mouth and had just barely opened it, prepared to allow his own finger inside, when a sharp sting exploded on his lip. With a hiss, Dan wiped the blood from his mouth. He’d cut his lip? With his teeth?

Dan tried not to move his mouth again, instead breathing deeply through his nose, except that he could smell something delicious nearby. It was mouthwatering, and Dan wanted nothing more than to find it, whatever it was.

Suddenly ravenous, Dan stood up straight, looking around wildly for the source of the smell.

“Dan?” Carrie said tentatively, and Dan spun to face her. He felt drunk the next moment, when he inhaled and smelt something so strong, so wonderful. Unable to help himself, he pounced, knocking her firmly to the ground and shoving her face into the dirt, bearing her neck to him.

Blood—yes, he needed blood! God—good, hot, delicious blood—he needed it thick and warm in his mouth, needed it in his stomach, all of it. Needed to not be hungry, to be full of delicious, wonderful, blood.

Carrie was screaming, which was God damn, annoying—his ears seemed more sensitive than normal. Dan planned to shut her up immediately. He bent over her, teeth pressed against her neck, when suddenly he was hauled backwards, his hands pinned to his sides.

“Let me go!” he roared.

“No!” Phil shouted back, and Dan struggled twice as hard. God, he hated that stupid, smarmy git! He would suck all the blood from his body! He would rip his throat from his neck! He’d eat his face, God! He didn���t even know how Phil had gotten to him, being blind and all, although maybe he’d heard Dan desperately panting over Carrie’s neck.

“I’m going to fucking eat you, Lester!” Dan cried, kicking his feet into the air.

“Dan, no!” Carrie cried, and suddenly she was pinning him down too, and Phil was sliding out from underneath him, until they were both holding him tightly in place and Dan was whipping his head from side to side, breathing in so harshly as if he could suck them closer to him, just for one bite, one sip!

“You can’t!” Carrie insisted, and suddenly she smacked him, hard, right across the face. “Fucking concentrate Dan. You don’t want to eat Phil. You want to beat the game and be human again.”

Dan struggled to concentrate on her words, but they rang true in his ears, and slowly, he nodded.

“Can we let you go?” she asked. Dan thought about it. He was hungry, yes, but a quiet part in the back of his head was steadily insisting that it didn’t want to consume his best friend. Or his… friend’s friend. Bad choice of friend. Phil probably tasted disgusting anyway.

Finally, Dan nodded. When both her and Phil let go of him, they backed away just in case, and Dan did the same before sitting down and hugging his knees to his chest. He tried to push his hunger out of his mind, tried to concentrate on what they needed to get done.

“Your go, Carrie,” he said through gritted (sharp) teeth. After rolling her dice (ten) she read aloud:

It destroys much in its path

And leaves a wretched aftermath

It’s cold and quick and fast and strong

It’d be wrong to stay—it won’t be long

“Jesus, we’re gonna have to run again?” Carrie demanded.

“I’m starting to wish I’d joined the track team,” Dan conveyed, and was surprised when Phil actually laughed. His laughter ceased quickly though, as the temperature around them rapidly dropped, and the wind picked up with a sudden ferocity.

“It couldn’t be…” he said tentatively, his unseeing eyes staring slightly to the left of Dan. “It couldn’t be a tornado, could it?”

The game, as if having a laugh, decided to prove that it could. The wind began howling in their ears, tearing at their clothes and ripping at their hair. Dan darted forward and grabbed Phil’s hand once more, his hunger momentarily forgotten as he began to lead them away from the wind. A glance behind them showed that there was a tornado not far off, and as Dan watched, a tree was ripped right out of the ground and sucked into it.

It quickly became apparent that they weren’t going to be able to outrun this thing (despite the fact that Dan felt strangely not tired), and so they exercised their next best option. They took shelter underneath a large boulder with a low overhang which the three of them shoved themselves under. It was crowded and definitely not as safe as Dan would’ve liked, but he accepted it for what it was. Carrie still had the game in her arms, which she was clinging to tightly as if the tornado might drag it away. Dan was pressed up completely against her side, and Phil was clinging to him from the other side, both of his hand buried in Dan’s shirt. Despite the terror from the tornado, he was starting to feel hungry again. He could feel them both pressed against him, warm with blood pounding freshly through their veins. Dan shook his head.

The roaring of the tornado grew steadily louder, and Dan wondered just what the hell would happen if they all died in it. Would the game reset automatically? Or would it and all its horrors stick around and continue to haunt their neighborhood?

“You should roll!” Dan shouted, over the sound of the tornado. A loud groan filled the air, quickly followed by crashes and harsh, sharp snaps. If Dan had to guess, he’d say that another tree had just been sucked into the tornado. He clenched his eyes shut as his stomach rolled, Carrie having turned her head to look at him and sent her scent wafting over him.

“What, and have a tornado and something else? What if fucking sharks start raining from the sky?”

“Sharks?” Dan said incredulously.

“I don’t know! Bears! Something!”

“Maybe the tornado will stop though,” Phil suggested hopefully. He gasped against Dan’s ear as another earsplitting crack echoed through the air. Dan didn’t say anything as he pressed even closer, his fingers digging knots into Dan’s shirt. Dan was going to eat him. He was going to have to eat him, he smelled so—fuck!

“Fine!” Carrie spat, and she unfolded the game in what little space they had and retrieved the dice. The second they hit the board the colossal roar around them quieted, and all that could be heard was their harsh breathing for a few moments. “Eight,” she said aloud. The board read:

Now you’ll find it can get quite cold

despite it breaking the season’s mold

“God dammit,” Carrie whispered.

“We’ll have to go inside,” Phil said, and they both began climbing out from under the rock.

“Wait!” Dan cried, trying to struggle forward to no avail.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t—I can’t feel my legs,” Dan said, using his hands to drag himself out from under the boulder.

“Fuck!” Phil suddenly cried. And then he repeated Dan’s first roll: “If you find the dice reads eight, your legs won’t work, to no abate.”

“I forgot about that,” Dan whispered, and then Carrie and Phil were grabbing his arms and hauling him out from under the rock. He was soon situated on Phil’s back, his arms around Phil’s shoulders, his legs dangling uselessly around Phil’s waist. The smell of Phil’s blood was overwhelming when he was this close, his neck offered to Dan practically on a silver platter.

“We have to go,” Carrie was saying, and her hand was intertwined with Phil’s, leading him forward, but Dan couldn’t concentrate. He pressed him nose against Phil’s neck, inhaling deeply.

“Uh… Dan…” Phil began, but Dan ignored them. He didn’t care. He didn’t care about them or this stupid game or anything. Dan clenched Phil’s shoulders powerfully with a sudden, renewed vigor, and he sunk his teeth into Phil’s neck, moaning as the first drops of blood graced his tongue. He sucked, drawing gulping mouthfuls of warm blood into his mouth and swallowing greedily, moaning at the wonderful, marvelous taste.

Vaguely, he could hear a girl screaming and yelling, but that was irrelevant when he was experiencing the pleasure of this. Suddenly, a blow landed to his head, and Dan was flung from Phil’s body before slamming into the ground, unable to move again. Phil was glaring in his general direction, once hand clutching his neck, fingers red, and Carrie looked absolutely furious.

Suddenly, Dan remembered just what the fuck was going on, and he stopped being angry and indignant and starting being apologetic. “Oh shit!” he cried. “I’m so sorry! Phil I’m so sorry!”

“You’re a piece of shit,” Phil stated, and Dan nodded. He wasn’t wrong, after all.

“I couldn’t help it…”

Giant clumps of snow started raining from the sky then, and they all stared up at in in horror (Phil sightlessly). After all, it was the middle of the summer. Still, they should stop being so surprised by out-of-the-ordinary things—it wasn’t like the game wasn’t warning them first.

“We have to go,” Carrie said briskly. “I don’t doubt that this will turn into a blizzard in no time—we have to get indoors.”

“Look!” Dan gasped.

“Look,” Phil imitated in falsetto, obviously still peeved. But Carrie gave the appropriate response, gasping when she laid eyes on the figures in the distance. They were huge, prowling dogs, much larger than any dog Dan had ever seen.

“Giant dogs…” Dan muttered.

“No,” Carrie said. “Hellhounds. Omens of death.”

“Now?” Phil moaned. “So we’re gonna die?”

“Maybe they’re gonna chase us,” Carrie suggested.

“They’d better not. I can’t run,” Dan pointed out.

“We have to get out of here,” Phil said. The snow was building up quickly on the ground, which he could no doubt feel, even if he couldn’t see it. Dan readily agreed.

“I won’t suck your blood this time, I promise,” Dan said, and Phil kicked snow in his general direction.

“If you do, I won’t pick you up again,” Phil muttered, and then Dan was being, once more, lifted onto Phil’s back. He was good this time, just clinging on and not drinking Phil’s blood. He felt much less ravenous now that he’d had some, and he didn’t feel so out of control that he’d end up drinking anyone else’s blood any time soon.

He kept a sharp eye on the hellhounds, expecting them to come charging at any minute, but they didn’t. They just sat and stared creepily from the distance, their eyes dark, dark, dark.

“We can go to my house,” Dan suggested. “It’s closest.”

When they arrived, the wind was howling and the snow was falling fast and fierce. Already it was more than a foot high, and Phil and Carrie had had to work hard to get through it. Once inside Dan’s house, they breathed a sigh of relief, knowing they weren’t going to die of the cold.

“Maybe we shouldn’t play for a while,” Carrie suggested. “I mean, we’re safe for now—we could just take a break.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Dan said, and Phil helped him sit on the counter. Phil then felt his way over to one of the kitchen chairs, which he immediately sunk into. “The snow might not stop until we roll again.”

“And Dan might lose control and kill one of us,” Phil pointed out. Dan huffed.

“I won’t,” he protested, but his friends ignored him.

“We have to be smart, though,” Carrie pointed out. “If something like those paintings coming to life happens again, we’ll have nowhere to run—we’re snowed in.” She was right. Even during the few minutes they’d been inside, the snow seemed to have doubled.

“We should prepare ourselves then,” Dan said. “You know, get weapons and things.”

“You start getting knives; I’ll go upstairs and grab blankets and things, just in case the heating breaks.”

With that, Carrie was leaving the kitchen and Dan was riffling through the drawers, sliding along the counter to get to them and searching for anything and everything they could use. Phil was silent where he was sitting.

“What do you think happens if one of us dies?” Phil asked, staring blindly at the counter top. Dan swallowed thickly. He’d thought the very same question many times himself.

“Well, I don’t know if I’m right but I’d imagine we’d be able to continue the game without the missing person,” Dan said slowly. “And then when we won, they’d be brought back to life.”

Phil shuffled uncomfortably. “It’s okay to be afraid,” Dan said softly.

“I’m not,” Phil snapped, and he crossed his arms over the countertop and put his head on them.

Dan turned away from the other boy, shaking his head with something like exasperation, and pulled open yet another drawer. He was just reaching for a wooden spatula, wondering if they could perhaps use it as a projectile, when a piercing sheik came from upstairs. Phil sat up immediately, and Dan spun around on the counter, his blood thrumming (eerily, Dan realized that his heart wasn’t pounding. And when had that stopped, exactly?)

“Carrie?” Dan yelled. “Phil, carry me!” he insisted, and then they were running to the stairs, Dan directing Phil hurriedly. “Carrie what’s wrong?”

Carrie appeared at the top of the stairs, pale and panting. “Don’t come up here,” she said quickly.

“What? What’s going on?” Dan demanded. Carrie bit her lip and looked behind herself cautiously, before turning back to Dan.

“Dan,” she said. “Your parents… your parents are dead.”

—

Seated around the table, Dan stared at the board game numbly. It was dark—mainly because the snow was half way up the windows and the cloudy cover had taken most of the sun’s rays with it. It’s just a game, he reminded himself. This’ll all be over when we beat the game.

“Are you okay?” Carrie asked softly. It took Dan a few moments to realize she was talking to him.

“What? Yeah. Of course,” he said stiffly. “Whose turn is it again?”

“Mine,” Phil said quietly. Dan pressed the dice into his hands, shivering when their fingers brushed each other.

“If you get a twelve, you win,” Dan said quietly. Phil nodded curtly. Getting a six on both dice was a minuscule possibility, and they all knew it.

Holding their breath, they watched as Phil rolled the dice. Dan ground his teeth together angrily as they both landed on three.

“Doubles,” Carrie said quickly, for Phil’s benefit. Dan read aloud:

They’ll come in dozens

Quick and sprite

The Raven’s cousin

Fast as light

Bang. Carrie shrieked, and they all spun to look out the window, where the sound had originated from (Phil instinctually, seeing as he couldn’t actually see what it was).

“What is it?” Phil demanded.

“Um…”

Bang. Thud. Bang. Thudbangthudthudbangthud.

Like rain, birds were flying into the window at top speed, red splotches of blood appearing where they hit. Uncaring for their survival one bit, they poured into the glass and sides of the house (from the sound of it), cracks spiderwebbing along the windows from the sheer force of their impact.

“Birds,” Dan quickly relayed. Phil looked shocked and horrified.

“I—I think they’re Stymphalian birds,” Carrie whispered. “From Greek mythology.”

“Who the fuck knows Greek mythology?” Phil demanded.

“What do they do?” Dan also demanded, his question more important.

“Well they’re—they’re flesh eating birds,” Carrie answered.

“Fucking perfect!” Dan yelled. With that, there was a crash somewhere upstairs, and Dan groaned. “Roll again Phil! Get a six and you win!”

The dice were shoved back into Phil’s hands, which he shook sporadically before throwing in the board’s general direction. One landed in the game, and the other hit the edge and when flying.

“One!” Dan called, looking at the die that had landed in the game. Carrie cursed and jumped to her feet, sprinted after the other one, still rolling, rolling, rolling. Dan could hear thudding from upstairs, birds colliding with walls and ceilings, their shrieks loud and maddening. The die rolled to a stop, and Carrie collapsed to his knees beside it.

“Six!” she called out, and flung herself back to the table to watch Phil’s piece. It slid all the way to the space before the black sphere, and then it stopped. Words appeared.

Before you can reach the end of this

A lover’s lips you’ll have to kiss

“Fuck!” Dan exclaimed. “You never kissed anyone.”

“I—what?”

“Before you can reach the end of this, a lover’s lips you’ll have to kiss,” Dan shouted. Somewhere close by, glass shattered. “Kiss him Carrie,” Dan commanded, throwing his arm out at her. She sent a worried look to Phil, who obviously didn’t see it.

“I don’t know if that’ll work…” Carrie said hesitantly.

“We’re about to get eaten alive by birds, fucking kiss him!” Dan yelled, and Carrie, possibly frightened by his shouting, leaned forward and pecked Phil on the lips. Dan watched the board eagerly, waiting for Phil’s piece to move into the center, but it stayed put. Dan let out a cry of despair.

“Why isn’t it working?”

“Because she’s not my lover,” Phil piped up. Dan growled.

“Well sooo-rry, but we don’t exactly have time to go traipsing around town to find whichever bint—”

Suddenly, Phil was stumbling in Dan’s direction—he can’t punch me blind, Dan randomly thought, half prepared to dodge—before he found himself with a lap full of Phil Lester, and then a mouth full of him. Phil kissed him fiercely, his teeth nipping at Dan’s lip, and Dan found himself clinging to Phil’s shoulders, half wondering why? and half not having a care in the world.

He felt supremely dizzy, almost as if the entire world were spinning around him, but that might’ve just been because of Phil’s tongue, which had swiped its way into Dan’s mouth. Dan enjoyed this for approximately two seconds before he panicked, thinking he was going to rip Phil’s tongue off with his fangs—which… weren’t there. Dan was suddenly completely aware of the fact that his mouth was back to normal, and he wrenched himself away from Phil when he heard someone clear their throat.

“So, the whole hating each other thing was just pent up sexual frustration?” Carrie pondered aloud.

“I—what?” Dan spluttered, stumbling away from Phil. Then he realized that they were in Carrie’s living room, not his, and he spun around wildly, looking wide-eyed at the painting behind him. It was very much occupied, the occupant quite still, and Dan breathed a sigh of relief. “I think you’re gonna have to get rid of that painting. And all of them.”

“I can see!” Phil suddenly shouted, realizing with a sudden clarity what all of this meant. Dan realized that he was standing as well, his legs in working order again.

“I can’t believe we’re alive,” Carrie whispered, and Dan sent a fearful look at the game. Jumanji.

“We have to get rid of that,” Dan said venomously, and together they stuffed the game into a bag, and then another bag, and another bag. Finally they sprawled ‘do not open’ across the outside and carried the bag with them. They went to the furthest reaches of town (via Phil’s car) and dumped it into the river, having shoved an abundance of rocks inside it as an incentive for it to sink. Faintly, Dan could hear drums, and he felt sick.

“Do you hear that?” Phil whispered.

“Ignore it,” Dan replied, goosebumps having risen all along his body.

After that, they dropped Carrie back at her house, where she claimed she was going to sleep for seven years after all the trauma (and exercise) she’d been through, before going to Dan’s. He was quite relieved to see his parents alive and breathing, though he wasn’t relieved when he remembered the argument they’d been having before he’d left.

Dan ended up taking Phil to his room, where they collapsed on his bed and cuddled, trying to keep their minds off the horrors they’d experienced that day. And once Dan got his strength back he planned to tell his parents that he was gay—after all, he didn’t really know what they’d say until he told them.

And while it was easy to say whole-heartedly that Jumanji sucked—Dan thought as Phil ran his hand through his hair—he couldn’t argue the fact that without it, he and Phil wouldn’t have… well, this.

“Hey Dan,” Phil said some time later, and Dan hummed inquisitively into his chest. “I knew I was going to win,” he laughed, and Dan pinched him. Phil might’ve won Jumanji, but Dan had won the real prize.

[walkinmystiettos]

CITYTRONIX on electronic music, sexuality and future LP release

English-born producer based in Kent is yet to make a mark in the vein of experimental music. Drew Holliday, aka CITYTRONIX discusses the situation he finds himself with electronic music, how current politics leaves his music “unaffected”, embracing his homosexuality through art and how he plans on producing his first full length LP. The producers exuberance and creativity isn’t dying out just yet.

Hello, thank you for taking your time to chat with us!

No problem, more than glad.

Well, first thing we’d like to mention is that we first noticed you and your music when we came across your SoundCloud profile and it definitely took us by surprise, is that what you expect from people?

In all honesty, not at all. But, at the same time yes. No being the fact that ideas just seem to seep out organically, I don’t tend to overanalyse or reflect myself and my music. Not to be dismissive or anything, but it’s like this mechanism that keeps moving you forward, if you keep reflecting back upon your work you then tend to become overly critical and it can be a really crippling process. For others it’ll probably become beneficial, me on the other hand it’s considerably mind-numbing, since why should I have to follow some sort of rule or formula? I don’t, because we all have the ability to just be ourselves and trust our first instinct, you know.

I don’t really go for any sort of reaction from people, or at least don’t aim to get a reaction, I’m just someone who puts it out there and lets people deal with it. If you hate it, fine. If you like it, fine.

“The child in me probably knew the capabilities of electronic music before I was even conscious of it, I just don’t know, something fascinated me.”

- CITYTRONIX

So, what made you turn to electronic music in the first place?

Oh lord, I suppose I can cast back to when I was around 6 or 7 years of age and watching a lot of MTV at the time. There were very few electronic artists I’d admired that were in the charts in the early naughties and that was Daft Punk and Eric Prydz.

Even way before that time I was an absolute hardcore fan of DDR (Dance Dance Revolution), and I remember that I’d play them in the arcades everytime I passed one. I suppose that’s what also drew me to electronic music, a lot of the DDR songs are very four to the floor and there’s plenty of dance music and happy hardcore originals. The child in me probably knew the capabilities of electronic music before I was even conscious of it, I just don’t know, something fascinated me.

Were there artists that changed the way you thought about your music and yourself personally?

Definitely for sure, Bjork is for sure one of those artists that are rare, very idiosyncratic and I suppose you always see her formations of being evolve throughout her years. She’s a true creature brought into this earth, her voice is just so delicate, so rasp, enchanting essentially.

Arca is another for me, there shouldn’t be a requirement for explanation for this. The way he treats sound as a form of storytelling, aside from verbal communication is just so inspiring. Always has been thought-provoking about what can be considered as “music”, he’s arguably the most extremely uncommercial artists around. Especially the fact that electronic music is exceptionally hard to deliberately fuck up, because everything has a ‘grid’ and everything can be tuned up perfectly, rebelling against the formalities of digital music can take a lot of effort, unlike those who make rock/indie music for example.

There’s too many artists to name. Brian Eno, Arthur Russell, Aphex Twin, Lotic, SAKIMA, Sufjan Stevens, Steven Wilson/Porcupine Tree, Erik Satie, John Cage, etc. they’ve all inspired me in one way or another

“in a way technology takes the directions for you, it just depends how you utilise it“

- CITYTRONIX

What’s your relationship with producing electronic music?

Stimulating but equally exasperating, I know the fact that it can be quite inevitable though. Technology in general doesn’t always carry out or execute ideas efficiently or as you’d like them to. But in another sense, those obstacles they make somehow make you realise that you managed to get something better out of it, or something worse. It’s a 50/50 chance, in a way technology takes the directions for you, it just depends how you utilise it. 

I’ve always had an ambivalent relationship with electronic music, it can be such a chore but it also allows you to make your own decisions which can get really interesting. Ultimately, I wouldn’t change it for the world, something in me has always come back to produce electronic music, maybe because of how much you can use it to your advantage, the flexibility and the ability to drastically change sound through sampling.

We’ve actually noticed a lot of the music you’ve released seem to embrace your sexuality too, could you elaborate?

Of course. Perhaps I express myself so openly is because all I ever wanted to do was to release all the tension inside of me and to take it out on some form of medium, music obviously being the primary source of this. I guess, (sighs) because there’s still all this stigma towards homosexuals among many other sexualities, I want to be able to raise awareness of that and in a way to poke fun at people who can’t tolerate that. I don’t intend on doing it on purpose, I just think that my most intimate side always oozes out through my music, my character, and to separate my own make up from my music is almost impossible, I simply cannot do that. If that were to happen, it wouldn’t make it seem to feel human at all, it’d feel completely robotic, alienated and unfamiliar, if you get my meaning. So, the only way around this (for me) is to be upfront about it, make myself completely transparent and direct.

“To be open and vulnerable I think is something that really brings people together, because we’re more similar than we think”

- CITYTRONIX

So, even if people would have an issue you would still remain open about your sexuality? Or have people had issues before?

To answer your first question, yes. To be open and vulnerable I think is something that really brings people together, because we’re more similar than we think. Because we live is such a contaminated environment in society, someone who usually speaks out about issues tends to make some other people relate to that and become less concerned or uncomfortable. We all go through different stages, yet we all go through similar situations and issues. I mean, social media is a tool people use to speak out on very sensitive subjects, part of me just think that’s just unfortunate being that we can’t always be open to society/reality, but on the flip-side of things it can be really therapeutic and beautiful.

As for the second question, if I recall I did remember a few people unfollowing me due to the fact I released “UNDRESSED FAGGOT”, but do you know what? I couldn’t care less, everyone isn’t going to like you with the way you present yourself or the way you are, whoever does try to achieve that would fail miserably, you know?

A different subject we’d like to bring up and mention is politics, how do you feel about it lately?

Generally, I don’t have this tendency or need to catch-up with news and politics so I’m not too educated on that part of the world. But, what’s happening globally right now is utter chaos and turmoil and there’s become this surge of music surrounding the subject of politics this year. For me, I wouldn’t like to fuse music and politics together, unless if it was in the attitudinal spirit of Punk music. Regardless, I don’t think politics is really going to affect my music as much, I tend to focus on something more microscopic or thematic aside from politics, it can be such a headache.

Before we come to a close, is there anything you’re planning ahead or would like to note?

Not really, other than the fact that I do plan to focus on making my debut album for the very first time. I’ve already gathered some demos together that I’m taking on board to finish and include.

Thank you!

My pleasure