#ive read this book for the first time and despite having only finished it earlier this week i am rereading it

[itwas217amwhenyoutoldme]

hey, hey, hey– let's do talk about how these sections of part i chapter 1 and part iv chapter 15 —aka: the first and final chapters of the book, aka-aka: the pre pauljulian and the post pauljulian— work together to make me SICK!

[i-did]

hey! I hope those aftg asks aren’t getting tiring lol but I was wondering if you had any thoughts on the recent fandom treatment of Kevin, which seems to be mainly seeing him as a victim mistreated both in canon by the other foxes & by nora himself? Like I remember in the earlier days of aftg (like maybe around 2016? 2017??) there definitely wasn’t this kind of focus or view of Kevin & I feel like he was treated with somewhat more nuance then? And this could be related to the growing hate for Nora since then but you don’t see people say the same things about the other foxes?? This is a very messy ask lol but I’m genuinely so confused about this trend esp because Kevin seems to be the only fox (as far ive seen anyways) that people are holding up as a victim w/o any nuance

I have a lot of fun answering these, I just sometimes take a minute to get to them lol

Okay so I definitely know what you're talking about with the Kevin thing. The first major factor is that AFTG has finished coming you years ago, and Nora has not actively engaged with the fandom since 2016. I came around into AFTG in 2017 as a reader, and looking at the fanart. Mostly by then you see the race headcanons locked into place and the beginning of the split between fanon and canon. Without more canon, fanon content starts to develop as whoever is more influential the fan creators (fic authors, fan artists) start to do things that trend. As a time passes in a fandom, it tends to split into niches, people who see things a certain way and want to see more of that follow each other and gain followers who agree with them. 

There is definitely a Kevin centric niche that thinks those things. I don’t think there was as much focus in general on Kevin back in 2017, but I also was pretty new. But there were no extreme Anti-Andrew fans, back then it was “you are either a fan of Nicky or a fan of Aaron.” People didnt have “dni choking apologists” on their blogs. 

I think choking discourse is a good example of the rise of Kevin. Andrew must fall for Kevin to rise. There are kandreil fans that genuinely like all three, and some ace/aro Kevin fans that like him just as he is, but a lot of Kevin centric content I see now on tumblr is about how Andrew is the real villain of AFTG for choking Kevin, despite Kevin violently choking Neil in book 1. 

Back in 2018 they weren't pitted against the other and I think the whole “you can only like one character or the other” thing is stupid imo. I like Nicky more than Aaron, but I still think they're both interesting characters. Ive seen a lot of “Kevin was only a victim” takes, and in fact got cyber bullied for a while by some people who thought I was too mean to Kevin in some of my HC by implying he also had some power in the nest and likely hurt others, and that he feels guilt over it. :/ but there is also a similar niche with “you can't blame Aaron for his homophobia, his mom was abusive, and she likely made him that way.”

It's the most similar discourse trend I've seen to the Kevin discourse. It’s a similar lack of nuance, and I think people inflict it their favorite character because they don't want to have a ‘problematic fav.’ Aaron is canonly homophobic, Neil says directly after him and Andrew ‘come out’ to the others, that he was waiting to see the same grief Aaron gave Nicky over his sexuality. It doesn't mean he can't be also a good character or a person someone likes, in fact well written characters have dimensions and flaws. 

Which that whole mess is similar to the whole Kevin thing. I think people fall in love with the idea of Nora’s characters, or maybe the fanon characters–but not the real characters. Which is also why they say the author hates them, because they got written to do bad things or not be in the story as much, they defend these characters as if they were real people who need defending, need to be saved from being erased. These characters become “their character.”

I think this also happens because people kin characters and identify with them a lot, so when I said “Kevin was in a position in power in the nest too, even in second place” and then receive threats for how I personally hurt someone who's a CSA survivor because of my Kevin HC I'm like (o – o). I think these people project so hard onto Kevin and design him in their mind, they feel as if character flaw HCs or depictions of Kevin struggling and being mean are personal insults, or at least very personally insulting. And I don't want to sound like an ass, but like my Kevin isn't the same as their Kevin, my Kevin is my Kevin. 

I see skinny art of Andrew and art of Neil as white or ginger, these don’t align with my personal HC’s about them, but like that's what I chose to go with. Nora uses language that makes me believe Neil has dark auburn hair, but if people want him to be ginger idc. In canon he was written with the intent to be white, I ignore that because I think him being mixed adds more depth to his character (as well as me being tired of only white mlm, and have updated my reading list). Andrew wasn’t imagined by Nora to be fat either, but I HC him as like a mini muscle bear instead of Toby Hemingway. 

I keep the canon intent in mind to remind myself how she actually saw them and how that can color canon and how other people are allowed to see Neil as white and Andrew as skinny. Like I understand why people get annoyed over other peoples hc’s, I feel similarly sometimes. But like at the end of the day, you just gotta move out of that fandom niche and into a new one or just ignore the post.

[nikmikaelsonswife]

Jealous Angry Hate Sex With Klaus Would Include…

you’re out at rousseau’s with rebekah and a couple of your other girlfriends when you feel as if you are being watched

with one subtle glance to the side, you notice a familiar silhouette in the corner of the bar

you can’t believe it — actually you can — but it pisses you off that he feels as if you can’t handle yourself. you have been a vampire for the last 300 hundred years for goodness’s sake.

the lingering stare on your back is enough motivation for you to finally give the mediocre looking man beside you the bit of your attention he’s been enthusiastically yearning for

or maybe the seventh vodka shot you had taken only moments earlier

which causes that same lingering stare to instead burn holes in your skull

you can practically feel the anger radiating from him all the way on the other side of the room as you trail a manicured finger down the innocent’s bicep.

and when footsteps reach your ears, you whisper an apology to him, who returns it with a puzzled expression right before he’s ripped from his seat by the collar.

“nik!” rebekah shouts, cami frowning at the scene from the other side of the bar.

“what the hell was that?” you question loudly, earning an incredulous look from klaus and even more attention from the citizens surrounding you

“i should ask you the same! you were getting rather touchy there, wife.”

“you shouldn’t have even been here in the first place, husband.” you slide off your stool, smacking a couple of bills on the bar before storming out.

“this conversation isn’t over!” klaus growls from behind you.

“you got that right!”

there’s only a short minute before klaus grabs you by the waist and your back home, and as soon as you cross the threshold, the war is back on

you slam your clutch on the coffee table, alerting elijah who’s reading a book near the window. “why were you following me?”

“why were you entertaining that bloody wanker?”

you notice the raise of elijah’s eyebrow as he listens in, but you’re too blinded by rage to comment on it.

what you don’t notice is him formulating a plan in his head to leave before this argument ends because he’s — along with everyone — is aware of what comes next. this isn’t his first rodeo.

“answer the damn question!”

“i’d prefer it if you went first.”

“ugh!” you run your hands through your hair, charging toward your bedroom with klaus right behind you. once you’re in the privacy of your room, you flip around and shove a finger in his direction. “i am not the one in the wrong here. this is all on you!”

“me? if you would’ve taken your marriage into account and happened to have been a tad less friendly, we wouldn’t be having this conversation!”

“i was only doing that in revenge and because i knew you were watching. i am my own woman, klaus, you don’t need to be on my ass twenty-four seven!”

he takes a step closer, gesturing at you. “i was protecting you! what do you not understand?”

“you always do this! ive been on my own since the fucking seventeen hundreds! i don’t need protection! i don’t need a stalker husband!”

“well, i don’t need a wife who finds aggravating her husband entertaining!” he rebuts.

“then maybe you don’t need a wife at all!” you yell, finding yourself just inches away from your counterpart.

“sounds like a splendid plan! perhaps then, i can assist you in discovering a better strategy in getting that imbecile down your pants!”

“are you SERIOUS!? have you lost your fucking mind?”

“i doubt that IM filling the role as the irrational one here!” his chest heaves, complete silence ensuing as you both stare at each other, so close that if you take another step….

he smashes his lips to yours, gripping your waist to pull you smug against his hard body, so smug that you can feel his erection poking at your stomach

you’re slammed into a wall, wandering hands feeling you up before your jeans and underwear are suddenly missing

whispering of how upset you both still are with each other and how this isn’t going to change a thing

klaus gripping your throat, forcing your eyes on his as he shoves himself inside you, stretching you out despite all the times you’d been like this before

dried blood staining the fair skin of his back, evidence of healed scars from your hell sent nails

the relentless pounding of his hips as you wrap your legs around his waist, needing something to keep you grounded on earth

your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you reach states of oblivion before you feel him shaking you from the grip on your neck, a silent demand for you to never look away from him

screams, curses and very loud moans

grunts, groans and chants of your name

your teeth clamping down on klaus’ shoulder to muffle your sounds, which he doesn’t appreciate and yanks your hair to pull your chin back up

klaus tearing your shirt down the middle as he continues to fuck you against the wall, not caring that everything that is being done can be heard throughout the house, choosing to instead take pleasure in it

the pinching of your nipples which cause your screams to increase in volume

klaus taking your tongue in his mouth and sucking it

your hands gripping him tightly, holding on as best as you can as the heels of your boots dig into his bare ass

and it only taking a low groan in your ear of, “come for me, love.” for that withering band to snap

your legs began to shake as mascara tears flow down your cheeks, your entire body shuddering as you scream his name with all the air in your lungs

pleasure reaches every single part of your entire being as your high seizes you, the warming feeling of klaus’ seed inside you only prolonging it

and when you’ve come down from your high, you only stare at him, waiting for him to pull out

which he does not and instead says

“i am not finished with my revenge, darling.”

[ofcowardiceandkings]

I think you mentioned listening to podcasts? Do you have any favorites to reccommend? I've run out of content :(

that i do !

im not entirely sure what kind of podcast you'd be interested in but i'll throw out a few of the goodies in my huge library of stuff , i'll miss out a few of the HUGE podcasts that have been all over tumblr though

a LOT of it is true crime or human interest stuff , or history because im nerd ,, and a few of these dont have nearly enough attention so [shrug] i'll try to keep this short i guess lol this isnt EVERYTHING ive got in my library or listened series' by any measure

i AM gonna pop a shout to both Stuff You Missed in History Class and Stuff You Should Know from iHeartRadio because their HUGE archives have kept me from losing my mind many times over , and they cover a wide range of both important and wacky topics

BomBARDed (ongoing) this is the only fiction podcast i have happening right now really but its DAMN GOOD ONE .... it's an actual-play D&D 5E podcast in the DMs own musically-inspired world, focussed on a group of multiclass bards going to music school !! and all players (+DM) are members of the Texas band Lindby !! and they actually use and play music in the show with one original song an episode !! Kyle's worldbuilding and storycraft are truly incredible, and (Nick) Goodrich, (also Nick) Spurrier, and Ali's characters are in depth and interesting as well as an absolute powerhouse :') i actually made a piece for its first fanzine, Bardic Dreaming, which published earlier this year and is free to view now, all the players and the community are super wholesome its just very good overall 💙

History & Humans;

Fall of Civilisations (ongoing) legit one of my favourite podcast finds, im so glad my youtube autoplayed one of these ... it took me like 2 hours to realise it was 1) not the same as what was playing before and 2) had been on for 2 hours and wasnt near finished lmao. anyway, this is a series by historical fiction writer Paul Cooper, and is honest to all thats good one of the best documentary series ive encountered in years - and ive consumed a LOT of documentaries. it covered the downfall of various civilisations through history, and the episodes run from an hour to FOUR hours depending on the topic. its so chill to listen to and just get done, but over the pandemic all of the episodes have been given full movie-quality video versions too on youtube if youre more of a visual person.

Casting Lots: A Survival Cannibalism Podcast (on series break) yeah that says that lol ... its a SUPER niche topic but its very interesting and treated very well despite being kind of comical at times, the hosts are just naturally funny lol ... it delves around from the history of cannibalism in whole regions to specific incidents as recently as the 1970s, and of course the first episode is about the Donner Party, and it covers things ive never heard of despite being kind of important ?? anyway Alix and Carmella are good eggs

Sawbones (ongoing) i probably dont need to mention much here other than say that Justin and Sydnee saved me from being SO BORED sooo often, the history of medicine is wacky as hell and its what most of my history GCSE was on so [shrugs]

Cautionary Tales (on series break) this was a wild-card find lol ... it's by Tim Harford "the undercover economist" who writes for the Financial Times, and its topics kind of weave modern topics and science with how to learn from historical errors ... its a bit weird but well worth a go, also each series has a few celebrity guest voice actors which is pretty awesome

Ephemeral (ongoing) this is a very strange but thought provoking series about sounds and other things just barely saved. topics include the last castrato, the hello girls, hand-stamped records, the spread of kīkā kila music, and acoustic fossils of wild places.

Neat! The Boozecast (ongoing) history and bartending whats not to like lol ... hosted by Teylor Smirl and now their dad Tommy, they're just digging around in how important booze is to human culture

True Crime (white collar and weirdness);

Swindled (ongoing) this is an amazing show full stop. A Concerned Citizen details some of the most impactful and unruly things to happen in white collar and corporate crime. very factually accurate but given the sheer bullshit of the topics the deadpan snarking is [chefs kiss] absolutely warranted ..

American Scandal (on series break) this one is a series within a series type, and spends a few episodes at a time poking holes in some of America's biggest scandals, from a dramatised but fact-based point of view. such as what the hell was going on with Enron, how big tobacco was forced to own up to covering its own ass, how Iran-Contra happened, etc. it also now has a sister show called British Scandal, which does the same thing for British cases but with a slightly different format.

Missing in Alaska (finished) this was a fascinating series, a deep dive into what happened to two US government officials who disappeared on a small chartered flight in Alaska in 1972. it goes some really strange places, but it actually turned up a lot of previously unknown information through the audience. John Walczak's new series in a new feed is Missing on 9/11 which looks into what happened to Dr Sneha Philip.

Pretend (ongoing) Host Javier Leiva holds interviews with anyone living a lie, or who have been touched by them. con artists, snake oil salesmen, former cult members, catfishing victims, anyone and everyone.

Power: The Maxwells (finished) hosted by journalist Tara Palmeri, the story of media tycoon Robert Maxwell from nothing to empire to mysterious death and the scandals uncovered after he was gone.

Lets Talk About Sects (ongoing) Sarah Steele covering cults from around the world, in particular those in Australia - where she is from. She often has former members on the show to share their stories, and share knowledge of how they left. each story has the relevant content warnings at the start of each episode.

Brainwashed (finished) investigation of the CIA's covert mind control experiments, centred on the experiments performed at a hospital in Montreal, and its cultural impact.

Dr Death (2 series finished) two series investigating huge cases of fraud and medical malpractice, and how they were brought to a stop. series 1 covers Dr Duntsch and his horribly butchered neurosurgery, series 2 covers Dr Fata and his fraudulent cancer clinic

The Immaculate Deception (finished) untangling the weird and disturbing fertility fraud of Dr Jan Karbaat, who fathered children himself through his fertility clinic, and the impact of his deception. later episodes also touch on other similar cases.

True Crime (Violent/General);

The Casual Criminalist (ongoing) Simon Whistler of-the-many-youtube-channels cold reads a script about the case of the day, with some of his daft commentary thrown in.

Southern Fried True Crime (ongoing) Crimes from the American South hosted by Erica Kelley, she puts all the facts out there but refreshingly for true crime she doesnt hesitate to tell you if she thinks someone is human garbage lol

They Walk Among Us (ongoing) probably one of the most popular UK crime podcasts, very measured and well put together, not weird or annoying about it either.

All Crime No Cattle (ongoing, feed slowed down for now) specifically about crimes from Texas, hosted by Erin and Shay, they're very sensitive hosts and a lot of the cases they cover shed light on why the Texas criminal system is how it is or show an impact at a national level

Canadian True Crime (ongoing) Canadian crime from an Aussie who's lived there for a decade, Kristi is again a sensitive and measured host covering some important topics

True Crime (Violent/Deep Dive);

Hitman (finished) journalist Jasmyn Morris digs around in the sticky tangle around a book published by fringe publisher Paladin Press, and its apparent use as a blueprint in the killing of a mother, her friend and her 8 year old boy for financial gain.

Camp Hell: Anneewakee (ongoing) this series is exploring how a wilderness camp "correctional facility" was endorsed by the Georgia care and juvenile reform system, despite widespread abuses and shady practices the whole time. warning for csa and child cruelty throughout.

True Crime Bullshit (on series break) this one is a huge huge rabbithole but a very interesting one where the host Josh Hallmark has spent years digging into the life and potential crimes of Israel Keyes. Keyes is often mentioned as a serial killer with no pattern, but in picking it apart thats not quite true, and has sparked some re-evaluations of missing persons cases and stumbling upon information the FBI has redacted organically. there's also a series in the middle looking into the crimes of Kelly Cochran

Forgotten: Women of Juárez (finished) this series looks into the huge numbers of missing women of Ciudad Juárez, the strange circumstances surrounding them, and the potential cover-ups and corruptions on both sides of the border, trying to give a voice to all of the forgotten women and girls and their families without answers. the series itself is finished, but a spanish language edition is being released every week now.

aaaaaand i'll call it there before i list everything lol, i hope you find something to plug your boredom hole with !!

[the-moon-prince]

The Last Of us~Kurapika x Reader ~Chapter X

AN: Hi my lovely fellows!

I’m sorry for the delay! Thank you so much for your patience and support! I’m here with the new chapter! I jope you will enjoy.

I wish you a pleasant read, and I hope you’ll enjoy the new chapter of my story.  (Chapter I) (Chapter II) (Chapter III) (Chapter IV ) (Chapter V) (Chapter VI) (Chapter VII)(Chapter VIII)(Chapter IX) (Chapter XI coming soon!)

Paring: Kurapika Kurta x GN! Reader

Word count: 2 652

TW: Mentions of Hospital ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The swings.

(Y/n) loved swings. So charming and amusing.

Even if they couldn't play like the other children, they could always go to the swings. Waving forward and then backward. Heights frightened them and even now terrified them. But with the swings, it was not like that. They felt brave and free. They had visited many. However, they remembered one in particular: the one that his grandfather gave them. The one in the garden of the house where they grew. When they swung, they could see the clouds and the sky. Knowing that their family saw the same azure as they did. They remembered the wildflowers that flourished at the end of the tubes that held it. They had quite a few memories of that swing. That also took place in that location. Their mami's face of horror at seeing them on the ground coughing blood tormented them for a while.

They were back in the hospital. They knew that they would return.  The lonely hours where no visits were allowed seemed long, even reading.

The moments when they were able to be with their grandparents were joyous. Perpetually trying to smile so they wouldn't worry about them.

"(Y/n)!"- a voice cried their name.

They lifted as fast as they could, responding as well as the tubes in their throats allowed.

"Julian!"- They felt so relieved to see him. Each night they spent awake, believing that they would never see him again. The boy, despite being simply 2 years older, was much taller than them. He ran to them sobbing and held them as if they were going to vaporize.

Because that's what they believed.

"(Y/n)!"-he sobbed their name again-"I'm so sorry; I'm so sorry; I shouldn't have left you alone that day. Not because you can't play ball with me, I want you to leave me."-his grip tightened.

They were weak, and their arms were shaking. Yet, that did not prevent them from returning the hug with all the strength that their small body had.

"It doesn't matter anymore. I'm not upset right now."- they consoled. 

If they were in his village, the two of them would look more like animals. Julian's tail would surely shake restlessly, and (Y/n) would rub their cheeks into him. They would be cat and dog, but they loved each other so much. Regularly playing clapping games, going for walks, reading together, or playing video games together. It's not like (Y/n) had someone else. From an early age, they had had difficulties relating to other cubs, including adults. 

"Julian, watch out for running! They are going to scold us!"- a sweet voice called. Immediately two elders entered, their hands full of bags and gifts.

"Mami, Papi! Hi!"-they greeted, already smiling.

It was an afternoon full of laughter, cake, sweets, and gifts. They played cards and chess - matches (Y/n) won- watched movies, read new books, and hugged stuffed animals. Except it was not (Y/n)'s birthday. 

Only visiting hours end sooner or later. And their company had to withdraw. The only difference was that the man stayed a while longer. Opposing hospital rules, which, as a doctor, he had never done previously. (Y/n) stared at him for a moment, not delivering eye contact, until they looked up.

"Papi, I'm going to die?"-they were looking directly in his eyes, searching for a response. 

They had a particular method of expressing their feelings, but that didn't mean they did not feel-they possibly felt with more intensity than the majority. Most would expect a kid their age to cry in that situation, but they did not cry. They were smiling.

"(Y/n)..."-the old man whispered and sat near them. He hadn't the courage to say it.

"I can't tell you that. However, if I can tell you one thing."-he took out a small case from the pocket of his trousers. He held their hand and placed the present in their palm-"Whatever happens, I'll be with you. Wherever you go, you will not be alone. And if so, you have nothing to fear."

When they parted the lid of the box, in its inside covered in red velvet, laid a pair of earrings. They were drop-shaped pearl pendants. A peculiar gift for a kid their age. Most would give jewelry like this to someone older.

"My grandfather gave them to my mother, she gave them to me, and today I give them to you."-he continued-"When you have them on, I will accompany you wherever you go. Since our auras live in flowers, a part of mine lives in those earrings. I'll be reminding you who you are and where you come from. So don't forget that you have a home to go to. Don't be afraid (Y/n)..."

The room's door was locked, and the curtains were down. The old man did not own the same appearance as moments ago; he resembled a massive wolf. Intense but soft fur and a spot on the right ear. He knelt to be at the child's height. They looked into each other's eyes, which some say are the door to the soul, for a long time. Without vociferating a word.

"I love you (Y/n)."-he wept, holding his tears.

The mentioned one offered him a smile.

"I love you, Papi."-they mumbled. They leaned forward to hug him, taking the opportunity to snuggle in the older's neck fluff.-"But I am not afraid. Not at all."

The man hugged them back. His paws were so big that they would definitely fit them into just one of them.

After that, he left, promising that they would return the next day.

What they told was a lie, they were afraid. They sobbed enormously that night, except they didn't want their family to see them that way. 

~

Kurapika opened one of his drowsy eyes, not feeling the embrace anymore. For a moment he was scared of being alone, that it was all a dream. Though (Y/n) was right next to him. Sitting on the mattress, their backs on the bed frame. They were not sleeping, just staring at the emptiness.

"(Y/n)?"-he groaned, the voice hoarse from sleep.

The appointed blink, as if dispersing the spirits that had them trapped.

They turned their heads to detect where the voice was originating from.

"Kurapika?"-they whispered, the speech clear.-"My apologies, did I wake you?"

"No. Rather, what are you doing awake?"-he was already awaiting the worst.

"I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep. Don't trouble yourself,  please."-they quietly answers with a smile. 

How could they request him not worry for them? You can't stop caring about what you love. 

"What hour is it?"- he inquired, a bit bothered about the fatigue they might receive in the morning. At least it was Sunday, meaning neither of them had to labor. They would have the possibility of recovering hours of rest if they required it.

After a few seconds of silence, they answered-"4:37."

Kurapika knew the hard nights when attaining rest in a lonely bed seemed tedious. The difference is that they were not abandoned.  He was there for them and wasn't intending on leaving anywhere anytime shortly.

At least they hadn't had a nightmare, if so they would have told him so, right?

He lifted the blankets as a symbol for them to lie down next to him over. He didn't know if they would. Simply with them reclined anew, he would be satisfied. They paid obeisance to him, approaching and lying down nearby him. They came face to face. Kurapika enveloped his arm over their body, they did not hug him back. Yet, they pressed their forehead on his chest.

~

The morning was peaceful and pleasant. Kurapika and (Y/n) were sipping coffee and eating leftover cake from the night earlier in the salon. A disk was playing on the record player. The melody was smooth, the saxophone and the lyrics combined quite well. The silence among the two was charming. From time to time, they were silent, in the same room, just savoring the existence of the separate person. Not because they had nothing to tell. Rather, it was a matter of having their own spaces without isolating themselves.

Except, the silence always finished up breaking.

"I suggest we watch a film tonight. Today you can choose it if you'd like."- Kurapika enunciated, happy to spend quiet time with his lover. Having relaxing nights was rare.

"I...I deem the most convenient thing is for you to come home."-they hesitated, to resume right away-"Not that I don't want to be with you. I'm pretty occupied tonight, and I don't wish for you to miss a night of rest."

The answer surprised him at first.

"Are you going to cover someone in the unit anew?"-he questioned fully of irritant. They were profiteers with (Y/n). His companions rested on their professional integrity and goodness. Kurapika got tired of seeing his lover could stay awake nights in a row to cover night shifts or take care of delegated documents. He knew they would not leave a patient to their own fate; although he foresaw to have a discussion concerning it with them.

"No, not this time."-(Y/n) disclosed. If it was simple paperwork, they did it often with him, as long as he did not interrupt them.

"What will you do?"-he scoffed this time, no commitment had been mentioned to him. Although they had a poor mania to omit some points, not maliciously; globally they were details. That was not a detail.

They resembled uncomfortable. Kurapika already recognized their body language, and despite their perpetual smile, he could read them.

Their gaze was downcast, shoulders hunched, and they played with the edges of their sweater sleeves.

"I'm going to reclaim someone from my clan..."-they wept after a moment of the uncertain reserve.

From the beginning, (Y/n) had helped him regain scarlet eyes. Getting information and accompanying him. Nonetheless, they hadn't mentioned anything about getting their clan back. No contact, no remains, no meeting. Until today. Why? They were trying to preserve him? Did they want to avoid him at a distressing moment? Kurapika believed that retaining such secrets had ended since their discussion. That stubborn part of them that dedicated obstinately to secrecy frustrated him.

"(Y/n)."-he scolded once more.

They narrowed more as if craving to hide from his gaze. He wasn't mad at them. But it frustrated him that he was powerless to help them.

"(Y/n), I'm not angry."-his tone softened-"I desire to accompany you."

Their posture decompressed, though they started to fidget more.

"It will be a rather longspun night. It will be tiresome."-they maintained.

"I do not tend."- He would stand firm with this.-"I am here to assist you."

They suspired-"Thank you, Kurapika."-They had communication difficulties to solve, and weren't oblivious. 

"What time will it occur, where and with whom?"-he hinted, making sure to know the circumstances.

"The event will be held with a private collector. At his residence at 8:40 pm."-they specified-"Only that there is a relevant detail."-they added with a cautioned voice.-"The collector is another hunter."

The collector is another hunter. Not for lack of ability, but for the votes that restrained their children. It would be necessary to rely upon the strategy to evade some violent confrontation. On top of that, their identities could be in check.

"As it is clearly practically impossible to hide the fact that I am a hunter, I presented myself as a mere fellow hunter fond of oddities."-as suspected they already had a method.

"Regarding your company, we can pivot on my weak appearance."-they continued with the strategy-" He will never believe that a hunter would require a bodyguard, but an assistant is plausible. He told me that the "merchandise"- saying that last word with disgust-"will be weighty."

"I perceive that you had the strategy ready. That's why I don't worry. I'll stick with it."-regarding the tactical abilities of (Y/n), Kurapika did not waver. Their experience was remarkable.-"Still, you must tell me these genera of things."

"Reasonable, my apologies."-they bawled. 

Kurapika wasn't going to reprimand them. He was aware that they were not doing it maliciously, the communication obstacles were rather difficulties. He could never get mad at them for having some kind of challenge. 

~

The place concluded up being in an upper-class suburb of YorkNew. For the other hunter to live there, it had to be wealthy. And to be wealthy he had to be skillful. For this occasion, (Y/n) did not use its own vehicle. They rented a truck with a roomy hood. Once the house was spotted, they parked the truck far enough away for the details not to be well distinguished -being black it was conveniently camouflaged with the darkness of the night-but close sufficient to get there quick running. 

Before going down, (Y/n) was silent for a short moment. Without moving from the driver's seat. Their pupils would look very dilated if it weren't for the contacts they were wearing. They both wore, so as not to give any kind of clue about their origins. Followed by that silence, they closed their eyes and pronounced a rhyme while poking their chests with two fingers, in a language that Kurapika did not understand. A mantra for good luck, perhaps.

There was no security of any kind seen from the facade. They walked to the front door, which was quite high and made of black wood. Shortly after the bell rang, the door opened. Revealing a man, about 31 years old, but he looked younger. It couldn't be said that he had good taste in dressing, but the clothes they wore were of great quality. His hair was somewhat lengthy yet shorter than Kurapika's and ash-black in color. His aura felt dense and heavy. It was easily deduced that he had no intention of hiding it.

The man, like his aura, was imposing. He made them notice it as if testing their courage and challenging them to enter. Almost as if they were unworthy. 

"I presume you are (Y/n)."-he said, waiting. His voice was considerably gruff. The kind of speech that tilts in your eardrums.

"Precisely, a pleasure."-(Y/n) greeted, pulling their hunter license out of their wallet and showing it.

"Good, and he?"-the man pointed at Kurapika.

"Kurapika is here to assist me. I remember listening to you specify that the object was going to be substantial."-they reported hurriedly. Their tone of speech did not denote fear or insecurity. They weren't happy with the rudeness of pointing their lover

"I see. To be a hunter you look frail."-he expressed-"Come in, come in." The walls of the house were wide and the ceiling high. The interior was mostly light gray. The decor had a pretentious modernist tendency. A large number of objects stood out. Of all kinds, but all rare and peculiar. Shelves placed well in sight, figures, frames, vanities. They followed the man through corridors to a small bar, its wall full of bizarre exoticisms.

 If it weren't for the assiduousness they were displayed in, one would say that the person was an accumulator. The idea that the person had become a hunter just to gain privileges and the ability to purchase ostentatious exclusive treasures was more and more evident.

"Let's sit down and have a drink."-the man bossed. 

"Oh, don't bother. We-"-they got interrupted by the man. It was clear he was vulgar despite his money. 

"I don't bother. I want to make sure that I'm not selling one of my prized items to anyone."

[romanovanoff]

bio says black widow stories but i do like to dabble with other characters too. ill have a full list on another post.

YOU & I

A Bellatrix & Tom Riddle story

part one

characters:

bellatrix black

tom riddle

narcissa black

andromeda black

druella black

rodolphus lestrange

rabastan lestrange

(tba)

relationships:

bella/tom

narcissa/lucius

andromeda/ted

(tba)

summary: tom is the new kid in school and is already popular amongst his peers. his goal is to have bellatrix black by his side when he conquers the wizarding world, and his only problem? bella is already in an arranged marriage and also wants nothing to do with him.

disclaimer: i have never read the books, and ive seen all the movies only like twice. im not a crazy fanatic potterhead, i just have an unhealthy obsession for bellatrix/helena bonham carter 😌. so apologies in advance if i make any mistakes, regarding whats canon in the harry potter universe and so on. the little things, the big things, my bad. i hope the fact that its mostly au makes up for what it lacks in accuracy.

word count: 3497

——————————

"I overheard earlier today that Hogwarts received a new student," Druella spoke as she took a sip of tea, delicately patting a napkin across her lips before gazing over at her three daughters. Bellatrix, who didn't seem interested at all in the conversation, Andromeda, who was busy scribbling something in her diary, and little Narcissa who was following along to her mother's words.

"Yes, it's true," The blonde girl, thirteen years old, responded. "I thought it strange at first but apparently he and his family were living somewhere in Europe. Tom Riddle, I think his name is. He'd been taught at home and his father had gotten a job at the ministry so they transferred him to Hogwarts."

Ever the gossip, it didn't surprise Bellatrix in the slightest that Cissy knew so much about the new student. She rolled her eyes, wondering why the hell they were even discussing this in the first place. It was just a new student, who cares? She voiced this several times out loud but had received the usual disapproving glances from the two blondes. It creeped the raven-haired witch sometimes at how much Cissy resembled their mother.

Letting out a sigh Bella swirled her spoon around in her teacup, not finding the appetite to drink nor eat the sweets that accompanied her tea. The three of them were currently in Rosa Lee's teashop, a place they often went to every other week, with permission to leave the school of course- though she didn’t ask for it most times. Usually Bellatrix would devour the treats but today she was feeling too anxious to do anything but. At seventeen years old she had stretched out her days of freedom and was now forced into a marriage that should have taken place two years ago.

The thought of marriage wasn't all that bad, if she was being honest. Sometimes when her thoughts and actions weren't clouded with hate and rage she'd daydream a not so near future of a perfect wedding. A wedding where she would be marrying someone she truly loved and could cherish, to honor their vows to the fullest extent. So the wedding itself wasn't the problem, it was who she was supposed to be wed to that was. Her long time childhood friend, Rodolphus Lestrange. And one of the very few in the sacred 28 that wasn't related to the Blacks by blood. At least that she was aware of… The thought still made her cringe, even after checking every family tapestry available and an exhausting amount of research.

Everyone wanted her to be happy about the fact she'd get to marry someone she's known for years, something most pure-bloods didn't have the honor of having, but it was the fact she knew him so well that she hated. He was like a brother to her, albeit at times an annoying and even sexist brother. He wasn't husband material and she was most certainly not wife material for him. And add to the fact that they'd be pressured to have children immediately after becoming man and wife, the thought of having sex with him made her want to gag. You'd think they'd notice that such a practice was incredibly outdated. She hated to wonder if the marriage had taken place two years ago, would they really pressure two 15 year olds to consumate? Fuck this life.

She felt like the world and everyone in it was against her. All her complaints had been shot down, leaving her inwardly seething with rage before being left totally subdued. Oh, how she hated being so… powerless, left without a voice, without a right to do what she wanted and to do so as she pleased, the ever present shadow looming over her shoulder that was the society and family she was born into.

Letting out a sigh she looked over at Andromeda who was still scribbling in that damn book. Probably instant messaging her friends, something Bellatrix didn't have the luxury of having. At least genuine ones anyway. The ones she had in school were merely vultures following around, waiting for the opportunity to eat away at the scraps she bared. They didn't hesitate to use her to their advantage, trying to play her like a fool. Idiots, they should've known she was the brightest witch of her age for a reason. And no one took advantage of Bellatrix Black.

Despite still being superior she continued feeling a bitter pang in her heart, knowing no one truly cared for her there. Well, maybe except for her sisters, Rodolphus and his brother that is.

Catching her eyes on what she was doing Andromeda quickly closed her book and narrowed her eyes at her eldest sister. But then a familiar smirk curled the girls lips and Bellatrix knew what was going to happen before her sister could even utter a word. She knew that smirk anywhere. Bella herself wore that smirk on several occasions, actually even taught it to her dear sister! If only mother knew how truly naughty Andy was, maybe then the heat wouldn't fall upon Bella so heavily when she did something that displeased her.

"Mother," Andromeda chimed in, interrupting Cissy's conversation with the older woman. "Bellatrix is right. Why not talk about something else."

"Andy…" The dark haired witch warned, fingers clenched around her spoon.

"Like… Bella's wedding perhaps? Surely there are plenty of plans to discuss. Some of which I'm sure my dear sister here is needed for?" The brunette suggested 'innocently', smiling back at Bellatrix before looking at her mother.

Druella blinked once, then twice before she brightened up. Damnit, Andy, Bella thought to herself angrily, glaring daggers at her younger sister. "You're right! We only have a short few weeks before the big day and still so much to do. How about we end this little meal early and say we go to one of the boutiques nearby, check up on your wedding dress," Druella said as she rose from her seat.

And so that's what they did. They went to the boutique, checked the incredibly old fashioned dress, with what looked like the most painfully looking corset yet stitched into the fabric. After, they stopped by a few other shops to double check things were in order for the wedding before finally apparating home. The entire time Bellatrix had trudged along reluctantly behind her sisters and mother, offering a few weak comments and opinions for this thing and that when asked of her.

She was glad to finally be back home, finding relief in the knowledge that tomorrow morning she'd be returning back to Hogwarts, having spent the weekend with her family. On one hand she was glad she managed to extend the wedding date, convincing her parents that it might be wise that she finish her last year and take her N.E.W.T.s before focusing on 'wifely duties'. Yes, that was how she phrased it. And yes, they'd taken the bait, obviously wanting their daughter to focus on her marriage once out of school, and not caring about the intelligence hidden behind her usual mask of indifference.

She made short work separating from her family's side to make her way upstairs to her room. And then made even shorter work getting ready for bed. No one ever bothered her when she was up the stairs and hidden away. It was known to all that Bellatrix Black inherited the 'mad' gene in the family, more prone to violent outbursts and destructive tantrums. Because of this her room wasn't the prettiest, constantly being repaired and sparse so there were less objects to break. The room was also constantly being placed under a silencing charm, quieting her screams so the rest of the household could sleep peacefully. How thoughtful of them, she thought to herself bitterly.

The sun was already down by the time she emerged from the bathroom, all scrubbed up and her hair wet, the many strands in ringlets falling down her back. With her wand, she casted a quick-drying spell to both her body and hair, not bothering with any sleeping robes as she climbed into bed. Once in she blew out the candles before getting comfortable under the covers. Usually, it would be too early to go to sleep, and she'd have at least a glass or two of firewhiskey to help her doze off but she felt the whole unexpected wedding planning this afternoon was enough to do her in. Not only that but she did need to wake up early to catch the train back to Hogwarts tomorrow. So without much further thought she closed her heavy eyes and fell asleep, hoping things could be much easier in the future.

THE HOGWARTS EXPRESS

"Tom Riddle is in our class."

"I heard Tom's family is incredibly wealthy and direct descendants to Salazar Slytherin."

"It's true! I overheard him talking to snakes! Snakes!"

The whispers and excited talk continued on and on the moment Bellatrix stepped onto the Hogwarts express. If she thought Cissy talking to mother about this ‘nobody’ annoyed her, she was absolutely wrong. Hearing everyone around her discuss this Riddle boy absolutely drenched her high spirits and put her in one of her dark moods.

No one needed to look twice to know to stay away from the young witch. If dark glaring eyes didn't strike fear into her peers, then the dark energy and aura surrounding her would.

Not wanting to hear the gossip anymore Bella separated from her 'friends' and found a seating compartment for herself, only able to hold two people, but thankfully no one dared claim the other spot. She sat close to the window, forehead touching the glass, and seeming to cool her ever bubbling irritation. Trees and rolling hills passed by in a blur but she wasn't particularly watching, eyes slightly glazed over as she got lost in thought.

So lost in thought she almost didn't notice the sounds of her compartment door being slid open and a person taking a seat across from her. Blinking slowly she looked over to the 'intruder' as the door slid closed once more, leaving the two individuals with some privacy she didn't necessarily want.

The person in front of her was a young man. Probably around her age with dark brown hair, curling neatly at the front. He had bright emerald eyes, warm but she got the hint of something darker underneath, something dangerous hidden beneath the surface and ready to strike unsuspecting prey. Despite that though everything else about him seemed pretty bland. Pale skin- but not as pale as hers-, average build, and put together uniform.

"Who're you?" She found herself asking, swallowing the automatic 'get out' she was originally planning on saying. Given the fact she hasn't seen him before in this school year or any year before that, she was already dreading the answer. She wasn't even sure why she disliked him so much already. Maybe it was the fact he's barely even started school here and yet everyone was already drooling over him. Maybe it was the fact he was well known for things the student body hasn't even had proof of, things he was already praised for. And on her side of things she was well known for her infamous anger and her upcoming marriage to Rodolphus. That or her status of being the firstborn Black daughter. Otherwise known as the current heir of the Black family. Well. That was until her idiot cousin, Sirius was old enough to steal the mantle from her.

So when he said, "Tom. Tom Riddle," She really couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes. Cause of course the person she had no care for was sat in, of all seats, the one in front of her. "Does that name offend you?" He then asked, wearing the same damn smirk he wore the moment she took in his appearance just seconds earlier.

"No," She said in a bored drawl, eyes once again gazing out the window as her head rested against the glass. "Unlike every other idiot out there, I care not for who you are. You're just another ordinary student attending Hogwarts. Nothing special about that," She told him, her tone consistent in telling him of how much she didn't care.

He was quiet for some time. Not too long, but enough to give her pause and wonder if she'd wandered too deep in thought and he'd slipped away. Only a glance his way revealed that, no, he was still here. "I agree," He finally spoke again. "There's nothing special about me at all. And I'm starting to despise the fact people are so interested in me. Took a look at the school Friday and suddenly everyone thinks so highly of me just because it was a private tour by the headmaster himself," He huffed.

It was clear to Bellatrix by the way he spoke, by the way he talked that he was excellent at charming people, manipulating them even if you would use the darker term. Again, she was many things but an idiot was not one of them and she wasn't falling for his 'charms' or tactics any time soon.

"Oh, poor you," She said in a mocking voice, jutting out her bottom lip as she faced him fully. "New kid in school has everyone fawning over him. Such a terrible life you must live, knowing you have everyone in the palm of your hands with just a smile." She finished the sentence off with said smile before turning it into a sneer.

"I won't repeat myself again. I care not for who you are, and I don't wish to know you or anything about you. So if you're going to sit here, then it better be in silence, or so help me merlin I will curse you. Laws be damned," She hissed. Hopefully for the last time she turned away again, feeling her mood lighten just slightly at her first threat of the day.

Usually, other students would run away by now, flee the vicinity in which she occupied, but Tom just sat there, in shock, or because he actually listened to her words. Finding herself curious about which option she chanced another glance but was surprised to see him wearing that annoying little smirk instead. "Cute," He told her, enjoying the way her eyes widened just slightly before darkening with anger. "That threat might work on others but it won't with me."

Her magic was absolutely crackling around her, like static in the air just before an oncoming storm. She was soon to make good on her threat. "Based on your looks, in how you speak, and the way I saw you walk earlier, looking down at everyone as if they were beneath you. I would safely assume you are a… Black. Bellatrix Black? Considering you look to be in the same year as me," He continued, assuming everything correctly. She didn't need to know though that he'd actually done his research prior to moving here, and that he had asked around earlier. "I don't expect you to get along with me from the start, but you will see me around often. I'll personally make sure of that. Cause I like you," He said with a shrug, smirk still in place.

Bold. Oh, so very bold and before Bellatrix could even utter a single word or even grab and raise her wand for that matter, he was already out the door. The space in front of her was once again vacant and she stared at the now unoccupied seat as the door slid closed.

LATER THAT DAY

It was almost impossible for the raven haired witch to avoid hearing or seeing Tom. It was as if everywhere she turned, someone was talking about him or he himself was staring at her from a distance. Usually she would never admit such a thing, her pride too strong, but it greatly unnerved her. Who the hell did he think he was? Claiming he would see her more often because he liked her? “Doesn’t even know me,” She scoffed to herself, annoyed as she continued on the familiar path to her dormitory.

Bellatrix was a slytherin through and through, like every other Black family member before her. There had been no question about it. Well, maybe after. She questioned it alot. The houses, the characteristics and traits. All of it. And once she's put herself in a more outside perspective about it she really couldn't help but laugh at the whole student body, almost all of them adapting and practically absorbing their houses certain traits into their own personality.

Anyway, she was a slytherin, but she couldn't help but wonder if she'd changed her mindset that first day, if her family hadn't been so adamant on which house she went to, would she have been chosen for hufflepuff, perhaps? Maybe gryffindor? Ew, no. Possibly ravenclaw. These thoughts raced past in her mind as she made her way down into the dungeons. There was a little of her in each, she supposed.

"Drommie, Cissy," Bellatrix greeted once she made it into the girls dorm, having already said the password and walked through the shared sitting room. All three Black sisters shared the same room, something Bellatrix and her mother both insisted and agreed upon to the headmaster when first starting school here. It was a protective thing. Bella knew that her sisters weren't like her, lacking in gut and courage. She was sure Andromeda could take care of herself, at times, but if worse came to worse she was more likely to break under pressure and need rescuing from her bigger sister. And little Narcissa, the spoiled brat she was, didn't have a single backbone in her body, choosing instead to flee or hide behind one's robes. Despite those certain qualities though Bellatrix still loved her sisters dearly and simply made it a priority to keep them safe, consequences to herself be damned.

Sure… maybe it was Bella's fault for them needing protection, having spent most of her years reigning terror down upon those who even glance at her, therefore her peers not liking her and taking it out on her sisters instead. But… hey! They looked at her funny, they deserved it!

"Bella why didn't you sit with us on the train," Narcissa asked, looking at her older sister as she sat on her bed.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes and walked past, towards her own bed furthest in the room and by the window. "As if I'd sit and listen to you two and your friends gossiping about the 'new boy'," She said back.

Andromeda turned to her with a quirked brow. "I don't know, by the looks of it you sat just fine with the 'new boy' before you ran him away."

Bellatrix was only able to scoff as a response before Narcissa quickly interrupted, hopping over towards Bellatrix. "You got to talk to Tom Riddle?" She asked excitedly. "How was he like? Was he charming? Did he show you parseltongue?"

"Cissy, please, calm down. He was none of those things. He was very bland… and cocky, and arrogant," Bella responded, the end getting heated with annoyance. Not towards her sister of course.

"Sounds like someone I know," Andromeda spoke up with a pointed look Bella's way.

"Shut up," The dark haired witch shot back. Because of course she couldn't deny it. She was those things sometimes… all the time. "Whatever. Let’s go. It's time for lunch anyway."

(A/N: lets be honest idk how classes work at hogwarts so lets say bellatrix and sis’s meet up w mother on the reggy, with permission or without, and this particular weekend was a break for all students to either visit their fam or relax in their dorms/explore school grounds. today (mon) is a day for them to get readjusted and classes start up again the following day. anyway continue)

All the way to the great hall Bellatrix's sisters continued teasing her about Tom. Thankfully she took the teasing easily, shoving her sisters good naturedly and joking along. That was until they reached the great hall. She didn't think her sisters noticed but as they walked past others to get to their table Bellatrix could feel a strong force on her, like something digging into the back of her head. She scanned her eyes around the room once, trying to catch the culprit of whatever was happening but all she could see were other students eating merrily, not a clue to her predicament. Thankfully by the time she'd sat down the force had vanished and she could focus back on her sisters.

Tom stood just outside the doors of the great hall, panting and trying to catch his breath. Never had he been rejected so quickly from someone's mind, not even close to breaching it in fact. Her magic was strong, untampered and just waiting to be fully unleashed just beneath the surface. A magic enough to rival his own. She may think she was strong now but oh just wait until he had her with him, by his side. Just wait until he showed her what she's truly capable of.

With these thoughts in mind he swiftly walked away from the great hall entrance, on his way back to his dorm.

[a-blue-secret]

CHAPTER V

BACK TO MASTERLIST

Chapter IV | Chapter V | Chapter VI

GENRES: royal au; fantasy au; magic au; friends-to-enemies-to-lovers; king!beomgyu, vizier!taehyun

PAIRING: taegyu

WARNINGS: none

WORD COUNT: 4.7k+

AN: Yes, Yoongi studies rocks.

SUMMARY: Best friends turned enemies, Kang Taehyun has managed to trick Choi Beomgyu into his service, and to rule for a year and a day, until his youngest brother would be old enough to take the throne. Choi Beomgyu has no intention of being obedient however, and tries to thwart Taehyun’s orders at every turn. With a growing amount of distrust and lies within the court, will Taehyun manage to keep the kingdom of Gojongja from falling apart?

"Thank you for letting me dine with you and the King earlier," Yeonjun said. After having eaten, Beomgyu had gone back to his chambers (which had had their door fixed, thankfully) and Taehyun was going to the Palace Library to find a book. Yeonjun was trailing after him.

"It was nothing," Taehyun said, striding down the hallways. Yeonjun hastened to keep up, as Taehyun walked into the library.

“So… Taehyun? Kang? Grand Vizier? What do I call you?” Yeonjun asked. Taehyun didn't look at him, instead walking straight to a section of bookshelves. 

“Call me Sir,” Taehyun said, not lifting his eyes from the bookshelf. “It’s the title you call a vizier when you’re not officially announcing them.”

“Okay, so, Sir Taehyun…” Yeonjun trailed after Taehyun as the younger scoured the bookshelves.

“Yes?” Taehyun bent down, checking the bottom shelf. When Yeonjun didn't continue his sentence, he clicked his tongue in irritation and straightened, looking at the elder impatiently. " Was there anything you needed?"

Yeonjun opened and closed his mouth several times, words refusing to come out. Taehyun crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. 

"Um… How good are you with a sword?"

It was obvious that this wasn't Yeonjun's original question. Taehyun bent down again, resuming his search for the book. "Good enough," he replied. "Why?"

"No reason." Yeonjun was silent after that, watching as Taehyun slowly made his way through the bookshelves. When the elder didn't leave, Taehyun raised his head again. 

"D'you have something else to ask me?"

Yeonjun hesitated, and then sighed. "Look, I get you don't like me. Heck, you don't seem to like anyone in this palace. But I need your help. Cooperate with me, please. At least give me a chance. I don't know what you could have gone through to be this wary of outsiders, but give me a chance to prove that I'm one of the good ones."

Taehyun stared at him, unimpressed. "I can tell you don't like me either. Don't deny it- your posture says everything. If you don't like me that much, why are you trying to make us get along? It's His Greatness you should be worrying yourself with. There's no need to worry about his humble old vizier."

"Despite what you think of me, I genuinely want to be on good terms with both you and the King," Yeonjun said. Taehyun noticed he didn't deny that he wasn't fond of the vizier. "I'm not so low as to try and worm my way into the King's favour just for Aruyeo's gain. This is about uniting, and having peace."

"Hmm." Taehyun hummed expressionlessly, looking at Yeonjun before moving to another bookshelf. The elder sighed, giving in. 

"I see that this is not a good time," Yeonjun said. "Well, I suppose I'll go to my chambers now." He bowed to Taehyun, who inclined his head back, not looking up from the shelf. 

"Rest well, Sir," Taehyun said emotionlessly. 

Once Yeonjun's footsteps had faded away, Taehyun looked up. He shook his head slightly. He didn't even know why he was being so prickly towards the Aruyeonan. Yeonjun just gave off a bad aura, and he didn't trust him one bit. Only, now he thought about it, he wasn't sure why. Taehyun scrunched his nose in annoyance. It was no use wondering about those sorts of things. He needed to focus. Now, where was that book about Magical Spheres? 

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

After having tracked down the book, Taehyun heaved the heavy, leather-bound book all the way to his chambers, before dumping it onto his bed. It created a small cloud of dust as it bounced gently on his mattress, and Taehyun waved it away before opening it. 

He leafed through the thick yellow pages, reading each word intently. The book was old, so the writing was in an extravagant font and the ink was faded, but Taehyun was still determined to find out what every sentence said. It was late in the night, but he was adamant about finishing the book, managing to burn out a total of three whole candles. The candles were placed around him in a semicircle, emitting light from all directions. As the fire on one of the candles began to flicker weakly, Taehyun sighed, ruffling his hair in annoyance, but still leaned forward to carry on reading. 

Finally, when his eyes could take it no longer, he blinked rapidly, yawning. Though he was already more than halfway through, the book wasn't being very helpful. There were several chapters on crystal balls, talismans, cursed objects, and even centaur eyeballs, but none of them seemed to describe the marble he'd found in the Discussion and Tactics room. He took the said marble off of his bedside table again, re-analysing it in the dim candlelight. Even with all the new knowledge he now had on magical spheres, the ball was still no less of a mystery. Taehyun sighed in frustration, setting it back down and heaving the book off his bed. It was so heavy and annoying, but Taehyun just wanted to finish it as soon as possible so that he'd know what the marble was. His eyes, however, had a different idea. Taehyun yawned again, ruffling his hair. It was late. He should go to bed. 

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

Taehyun managed to finish the book in three days. He was disappointed in himself for taking so long to do so, but he reasoned that the book was ridiculously big so it was fine. After finishing it, he realised there were actually five volumes. And so, he went down to the library again to find the rest of the books. It took him a week to get through the first two books. The third one dragged on so much, so by the time he was a third of the way through he was no wiser than when he'd first started reading. And so, he gave up for the night, deciding to finally rest. 

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

Taehyun was awoken by a knock on his door. Someone gently knocked on his door in an almost timid manner, but being a light sleeper, Taehyun heard it easily. 

"Who is it?" he blearily called out.

"It's me, sire," a formal voice replied. Taehyun rubbed his eyes, trying to remember who the voice belonged to. He frowned, forehead wrinkling in confusion. It appeared that he'd stayed up far too late last night, and it was too early to be placing names to Lords' faces. Taehyun sighed, giving up. 

"I'm sorry, I have no idea who you are," he said, when he couldn't remember who the person was. "Can you come back in a few hours? Now is not a good time."

There was a pause, and Taehyun hoped that it was a sign the person had gone away. When they had stayed silent for longer than ten seconds, Taehyun stretched messily, rolling around before casually falling out of his bed and onto the carpeted floor. He was just getting up when someone rapped on his door. 

"Who is it?" he said, annoyed. 

"Still me, sire."

"Yes, but who are you?" Taehyun stalked over to the door and pressed his ear against the wood to see if it would help him remember who the person was. 

"...It's Heesung, your guard.”

Oh. So not a lord. How had he not recognised Heesung's voice? Was he that tired last night? “Oh yes, Heesung. Is everything okay?”

“There is a messenger holding several letters from Aruyeo. He asked to see the king, but we referred him to you instead. The footman who brought them was determined for you to reply as soon as possible. In fact, I think– yes, he is still in the palace entrance, waiting for your response."

Taehyun cursed. He knew this would happen, but he didn't think it would happen this soon. They'd agreed to an alliance not even a week ago, and news normally took about a month to travel between Kingdoms. How had Aruyeonan nobles already found out about it? 

"Ah yes, thank you. Tell the messenger I'll be there shortly."

"Of course, sire. I shall wait here then, escort you down there."

Taehyun sighed, and wearily walked to the washroom. This was going to be a hard day. 

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

As Taehyun walked out to the palace entrance, the messenger straightened, before bowing down low. 

"Grand Vizier Kang Taehyun!" he said, bowing again. 

"Good day," Taehyun said. "I hear that you have several messages for me?"

"I do, sir." The messenger handed Taehyun some scrolls of parchment, bowing. "They are all from nobles of my Kingdom, and the Lords would like a reply promptly, if you may."

"Hmm." Taehyun unrolled a letter, before handing it to Heesung and opening another. He glanced at it before folding it again, and looked at the messenger. "When would you like an answer?"

The boy answered firmly. "Today, preferably, sire. If not, my master has said that I must stay here until you inform me of your response."

"Your master sent you with five letters?"

"No sire. Only one of these is his, but the rest are from other nobles. He requested that I come with them all at once."

"And you are to stay until I answer his letter?"

"Yes, sir."

Taehyun subtly raised his eyebrows. That was an unusual request. Nevertheless, he nodded his head. "In that case, you had best come in. I have important matters I need to take care of, but with any luck, I may have an answer for you by evening." Taehyun signalled to the guards. "Take our guest somewhere he can wait. Make sure he's treated kindly," he added firmly. "Aruyeo have been nothing but kind to us, so let's treat them with respect as well." He bowed his head to the messenger, before taking the letters and walking away. 

Taehyun was walking past Beomgyu's chambers when the door opened. 

"Oh! Taehyun, I was just about to look for you."

Taehyun sighed, before turning around on his heel to face at Beomgyu. "Was there something you needed?"

"Yeah." Beomgyu stepped out into the hallway, closing his door with his foot. "I've got an angered lord in my room who's mad at the fact I agreed to an alliance without consulting the rest of the council. What do I do?"

Taehyun frowned. "How did they find out? You didn't tell anyone, did you?"

"I haven't had time," Beomgyu said, glaring. "Honestly, it's like you don't trust me at all."

"That's because I don't," Taehyun retorted. "Anyway, what do you want me to do about it? I'm busy, you know."

"I don't know, maybe sort them out? Talk to the lords?"

"Why can't you do that?" Taehyun asked, growing annoyed. 

"Because I haven't talked to them in ages! It's going to be weird and they're going to ask questions about where I've been these past months!"

"Well you should have talked to them in the first place! Maybe then you wouldn't be in this position. Think about that," Taehyun snapped, before stalking off. 

Beomgyu glowered at Taehyun's back as the younger rounded a corner. Chan, who was on duty outside Beomgyu's door, snorted. Beomgyu whipped his head round to the guard. 

"Don't laugh," he said. "What's so funny, anyway?"

"Taehyun's right, that's all," Chan said, smiling. "If you'd talked to the nobles at any point, you wouldn't be in this mess."

"It's not a mess," Beomgyu contradicted pettily, crossing his arms. "What do you mean, anyway?"

"If you'd talked to them when you first became King, it wouldn't be so awkward. If you'd talked to them when they'd asked for you, it wouldn't be so hard. If you'd talked to them at all, you'd feel more comfortable in consulting them about the Aruyeo thing at the beginning, meaning they wouldn't be outraged that you considered it without them."

Beomgyu sniffed. "You talk too much."

"You're only mad because I'm right," Chan laughed. "Come on, admit it."

"Never. Because that would mean admitting that I'm wrong, and I'm never wrong. I'll go talk to Lord Namjae now. Goodbye." With that, Beomgyu held his head up, and walked back into his chambers. 

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

"Could you keep ahold of these, Heesung?" Taehyun asked the guard, handing him the letters. "I need to go visit the Antiquarian first, then I'll deal with them."

"Sure." Heesung took the letters from Taehyun. "May I ask, why are you visiting them? Was the book not helpful?"

Taehyun sighed. "It wasn't. It was just full of centaur eyes and crystal balls. I'm hoping Scholar Min knows what it is." He paused in front of two hallways. "Hang on, I've never been to the Antiquarian before. Which way is it?"

"This way, sire," Heesung said, taking the left. Taehyun followed after him. 

"You know Heesung, I never thanked you," Taehyun spoke as the guard led the way. "I never thanked you for taking care of me all those years. Literally, you've looked after me since we were fifteen."

"It's no problem," Heesung replied easily. "It's my job."

"It wasn't your job to listen to my rants and keep all my secrets safe," Taehyun said, half-jokingly. "I'm glad we became friends." 

Heesung glanced over his shoulder at Taehyun. "I'm glad we did too," he smiled. Heesung stopped in front of a door. "Here we are," he announced. Taehyun tilted his head in confusion. 

"There's no guard?"

"Scholar Min is basically a fortune teller as well as an old-objects-specialist," Heesung reminded him. "It would be dumb for anyone to try and infiltrate his chambers."

"Ah, right. Are you going to stay out here?"

"Yes."

"Okay. See you, then," Taehyun said, giving a small wave before knocking on the Antiquarian's door. A voice said, 'come in', and he stepped inside. 

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

"Ah! Kang Taehyun, my boy! Come in, come in! Don't just stand there loitering at the entrance. I'm boiling some water right now, if you'd care to have a cup of tea?"

“How- how do you know my name?”

“Why, everyone knows the Grand Vizier Kang Taehyun,” the Antiquarian smiled. “And before that, you were Prince Taehyun. I’ve known you since you were just a few days old.”

Taehyun was a bit surprised at seeing Scholar Min look so, well, young. Judging from how he spoke, it sounded as if he was already at a reasonably old age when Taehyun was born, but the Antiquarian looked to still be in his late twenties. Scholar Min chuckled at Taehyun's shock. 

"Yes, I look rather young, don’t I? But don’t be fooled. Anyway, you of all people should know that youth does not equal inexperience.”

"I- uh- um…"

"Have a seat, have a seat! Let me make you a cup of chamomile tea. It will help you form coherent sentences."

Taehyun sat down in the armchair that Scholar Min gestured towards. As the scholar prepared the water, he looked around the room. The first thing that he noticed was the room was small. It wasn't tiny, but compared to, say, the Discussion and Tactics room, it was definitely smaller. A large fireplace took up one wall, with shelves on top which were packed with candlesticks. Another wall had a bookshelf pushed against it, stuffed full of thick books. The other wall had shelves holding vials of mysterious liquids, dried plants, rock samples, and even a stuffed animal's head. There was a door to the left of the bookshelf. Taehyun presumed that it led to Scholar Min’s chambers. 

What struck the vizier was how cozy the room was. It was dimly lit, because of the fire and warm candles, and the orange fires reflected off of the copperware in the room, and the orangey, coppery colours gave off a rustic, roguish sort of feeling. It was an odd atmosphere for a room in the palace to have, but for an Antiquarian's office, it felt strangely right. 

"Here you go, Kang Taehyun," Scholar Min said, handing Taehyun a teacup on a saucer. "Be careful, it's hot. Now, you drink that up, and tell me what’s the matter.”

As Taehyun blew on his tea, the Antiquarian sat down in the armchair opposite him, waiting for the younger to speak. 

“So, um, Scholar Min...”

“Call me Yoongi,” the man smiled. 

“Okay, Yoongi... I was wondering about a strange marble I found? It’s filled with this weird powder and has a really thin outer layer of glass. I’m not sure what it is, so I came to ask you.” Taehyun fished the marble out of his pocket and handed it over to the Antiquarian. Yoongi put on his glasses and examined it. “I found a few books on Magical Spheres,” Taehyun explained, “but after reading through more than half of the series I still couldn’t find anything that described this.”

" You read the book about Magical Spheres?"

"I- yes I did," Taehyun said hesitantly. "That's what I just said, right?"

"Which author?"

"Pardon?"

"Who wrote it?" Yoongi peered at him from over his spectacles. 

"I think it was Professor Chung something. I can't remember exactly."

"Right, right. I presume you read all five volumes?"

"Two and a third."

"Well. How long did it take you?"

"Just under a week, I think," Taehyun said, folding his hands over his legs. Yoongi raised his eyebrows, impressed. 

"Well. That is an achievement. But anyways, if I am not mistaken those we're Professor Chung Minchan's books on Magical Spheres, Bookshelf 379, third shelf from the bottom and second section from the right," Yoongi said, leaning back. Taehyun blinked. Did Scholar Min have photographic memory or something? "You were looking in the wrong place. Spheres like these-" He rolled the marble in his palm- "aren't something you can access information on easily. They're in the section of the library I doubt you've been to."

"Which part? I assure you, I have been to every section of that library at least twice. I'm sure I know."

Yoongi chuckled. "Well, I assure you, that you have most certainly never been to the place which would hold information about these."

Taehyun opened and closed his mouth, deciding it would not be a wise idea to argue with a prestigious scholar. Though, he wasn't sure why he was so offended that Scholar Min seemed to think that he hadn't scoured the library from top to bottom, given how long he'd lived in the palace. "But anyway," he said. "What is it?"

Yoongi leaned over and rummaged through a drawer, before pulling out a metal object.“You know what this is, right?”

“Yes, that’s a grenade,” Taehyun said.

“Correct. And what chemicals do grenades, and all explosives, have in them?”

“Well, it varies.”

Yoongi paused, before nodding in acknowledgement. “Well, yes, that's true. But what is the most commonly known explosive chemical?”

“Trinitrotoluene, but the powder in the marble isn’t yellow.”

“You’re right,” Yoongi said. He put back the empty grenade case and raised the marble, rolling it between his forefinger and thumb. “But, this has the same principle. I can’t tell exactly what chemical it is, but this is definitely a magical explosive.”

Taehyun tilted his head. “Magical?”

“Yes. Most explosives need a trigger to be set off, and this is normally from pressure applied to the side of it. However, you and I have both held it in our hands, and it hasn’t gone off.”

“Why is it that I couldn’t recognise it, if it’s something as simple as a grenade?” Taehyun asked, frowning.

“It’s not just a grenade, my boy. It’s magical, like I said. Also, they don’t make these things here often, so it’s possible they didn’t feel the need to teach you about them.”

“Why does it look so different though?” Taehyun asked. “Grenades and bombs aren’t normally glass balls.”

“That is something I am not sure of yet.” Yoongi was silent for a few moments. “You wouldn’t mind me keeping this, would you? It would take a few days for me to analyse and identify the particles.”

“Oh, of course,” Taehyun readily agreed. “You can keep it. I just wanted to know what it is.”

“Well, I’m afraid I don’t fully know what it is myself,” Yoongi said thoughtfully, still staring at the marble. “But it definitely is an explosive of some sort.”

Taehyun nodded. “That is information enough,” he said. He rose. “I hope you don’t mind, but I need to go now. There are lots of letters and things I need to take care of now.”

“Of course, Taehyun,” Yoongi said, also rising. He opened the door for the vizier. “If I find anything else about it, I’ll have a messenger send you a note.”

Taehyun bowed his head in thanks. “Thank you, Scholar.” He bowed again, before walking back down the hall, Heesung some ways behind him.

Yoongi watched as the young vizier strode away, a troubled look on his face. He looked down at the marble again. He could recognise that glass anywhere. And that powder… he had a sinking feeling he knew what it was. Shuffling back inside, he gently closed the door behind him, locking it for good measure. If his hunch on who made the chemical was correct, it was going to be a dangerous process in finding out which explosive it was.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　

“So, how was it?” Heesung asked Taehyun as they walked down a deserted corridor.

“Worse than I thought it would be,” Taehyun sighed. “It’s an explosive. I thought, maybe, a listening device, or one of the Lords’ children had left their toy in there by accident, but no. Scholar Min didn’t say it outright, but it was clear that it’s not Gojongja-made.” He clenched his hands. “Maybe that Aruyeonan lord put it there.”

“Lord Yeonjun?” Heesung supplied, as they rounded the corner towards Taehyun’s chambers. “But wasn’t the servant the only one who’d been in the room, until you came? How could he have managed to put it there?”

“There’s always a way,” Taehyun replied. “Besides, we don’t know for sure if no one else had been inside.” They stopped in front of Taehyun’s door, and Heesung wordlessly handed him the letters he’d been holding.

“What do you think the Aruyeonan nobles have written?”

Taehyun sighed, staring distastefully down at the pieces of parchment in his hands. “Probably something to try and maneuver the terms of the alliance more into their favour, and tons of flowery compliments to try and get into our favour.” He frowned slightly. “Although, I’m not sure why that would be something so urgent that they need a reply as soon as possible.”

“True,” Heesung said thoughtfully. “Maybe they want to hear the terms of the alliance? It’s possible that they haven’t seen it yet.”

“That’s possible. I hadn't thought of that." Then, Taehyun gasped. "Oh, Heesung, do you think you'd be able to check up on Beomgyu? I don't want him messing up anything. Shit, I forgot he was dealing with Lord Namjae." He smacked himself on the forehead. "God, I was so frustrated at the time that I completely ignored him. That Lord is an annoying one as well."

"I'll go talk to Seojung. I think he and Chan are on duty."

"Thanks, Heesung."

The guard bowed, before walking back to Beomgyu's chambers. Taehyun watched him go, and stepped inside his own. 

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

"Oh, you little-" Taehyun muttered through clenched teeth. He checked the name. Lord Cho. That punk. " 'We would like you to know that we will be by your side in helping guide Gojongja into having a steady and secure rule'? " Taehyun scoffed aloud. "Who does he think he is? Gojongja is doing fine, thank you very much." He hated when nobles did this. They thought they were being so slick, when in fact Taehyun could see every hidden meaning behind their words. "We are not weak, and never will be, 'Lord Cho'. We don't need any of you Aruyeonans to try and worm your way into our throne." Taehyun scowled at the letter fiercely, before putting it down and picking up another one.

'To whoever this letter may reach,' it read, 'First of all, I would like to thank you for agreeing to an alliance with my beloved Kingdom.' Taehyun scoffed again. What was with Aruyeo nobles and their inherent adoration for their Kingdom? He scanned the rest of the letter, somewhat idly. The contents of the letter would be full of flattery and subtle manipulations, he presumed, so he wasn’t paying much attention to it. But then, he leaned forward suddenly, taking his feet off the table. Wait. This letter might actually be important.

'Please be sure to read this letter carefully, since I would like my meaning to be conveyed extremely clearly.’ Taehyun frowned, and scrabbled around for a spare piece of parchment. After reading the letter fully and scribbling down notes, he gasped. “Oh my god.”

'Being united through an alliance was something we here have wanted dearly for a long time, since we respect and admire all that you do in your court. Even before our own queen came to the throne, we have been nothing but peaceful when it comes to relations between our two kingdoms. Careful measures have been taken to make sure that you have the same benefits as we could receive from this Alliance. Royals within our court have kept the peace between our two courts. Each one of our monarchs have tried their best For generations to keep relations between us civil and polite. Under our queen erajin’s rule, it seems that an alliance has finally been achieved. Let me assure you that this letter is not meant to be patronising or overly flatter you- it was meant to genuinely say thank you for agreeing to an alliance. ‘Tis a wonderful occasion, and it is a great question within our court as to whether you may Hold a revel to celebrate? Even though our two kingdoms have not interacted closely on such a scale, perhaps You could consider it. Aruyeo have admired you for how steadfast and inspiring your Royals are, and Everyone here would just like to say thank you for being an incredible kingdom. Now, you will be sceptical at having received such an Odd letter, and you may not Trust me, but there is one thing that ought to be said: this letter will show you who is TRUSTWORTHY.'

Taehyun set down his quill. When he'd first read it, the odd use of capital letters struck him. Now he had put the capitals together, it all made sense. 

BECAREFUL,THEYARENOTTRUSTWORTHY.

"Assuming the 'Tis can use the apostrophe as a comma and the 'T' as a letter in the word,'' Taehyun muttered to himself, scribbling the letters to form coherent words. "Every capital letter is part of a coded message. 'Be careful, they are not trustworthy'." He tilted his head in confusion, clicking his tongue. "But who is 'they'? The other Aruyeonan Lords? People within our palace? Who?"

The end of the letter was in its own paragraph, so Taehyun assumed it had nothing to do with the coded message in the paragraph above it. 

'It would be wonderful if you could respond with whether you understood my letter. The messenger sent is one of my own, and I assure you he is to be trusted. Your Greatness, if it is you who receives this letter, it may be best for you to hand it to your vizier. He might be able to understand. 

I patiently await your reply,

Lord Hwang Hyunjin.'

"Lord Hyunjin," Taehyun said. He tapped the letter. "Thank you so much for this. Thank you." He was just figuring out how to form a reply to Lord Hyunjin, when there was a knock at his door. 

"Sir?" Heesung called. "His Greatness requests your presence within his tea room. Um, immediately, if you may. But don't tell anyone he said that. He also wants you to bring the agreement because he's really struggling right now since he didn't memorise it."

Taehyun raised his eyebrows at Heesung's strange way of talking. "He told you to say that, didn't he?" he asked rhetorically once he'd opened the door. Heesung didn't say anything, but the guard's posture spoke for him. "I thought so." He closed his door behind him. "The agreement is in the Filing Room right now. Let's go get it and see what mess Beomgyu's gotten himself into."

[frozenprocedural]

[100: "Okay fine, one more story, but then you really have to go to bed."] Pretty please?

Sorry, this took me so long to finish! But it’s a fantastic tie-in to TDOE! So here’s my submission for TDOE “Scarf”. This takes place in @the-spaztic-fantastic‘s “Tale of Two Cities” verse, particularly following her story “In Troubled Times”. Go read it, it’s amazing. I really do hope I do the verse justice. My first time trying to write a bit of Agduna.

Alarik, Jenny and Dag belong to @patricia-von-arundel.

Scarf

"Bes'mor? I can't sleep."

Iduna looked up from her book to see Jenny toddle in, dragging her well-loved stuffed frog behind her. Iduna set the book aside and opened her arms, helping Jenny clamber onto her lap, both of them settling back into the overstuffed recliner. 

"Can't sleep, little one? That's no good." Iduna stroked a hand through her granddaughter's soft hair, already forming into distinctive curls like Alarik's. But her face- tipped upwards- was all Elsa's. Iduna could see the fear and worry Jenny was trying to hide. 

Iduna knew exactly what was on Jenny's mind, because it had been on everyone's mind for the past two days.

……………….

"MAMA!"

The scream jolted Iduna awake. Next to her, Agnarr uttered a sleepy, questioning grunt. Her own foggy mind tried to figure out what was going on- why the scream felt wrong. Was Jenny…

No, that wasn't Jenny. That was Elsa.

Elsa, screaming in agony.

Iduna threw off the covers, rushing down the hall faster than she knew she was able to. She heard Agnarr struggling to extract himself, but her only concern was Elsa. Her daughter needed her. 

When she got to Elsa's childhood bedroom, Iduna saw her daughter curled about her swollen middle, shaking and moaning in pain.

"Elsa? What's wrong?"

Elsa looked up, and from the faint light of the streetlights, Iduna could see her pupils were dilated, and tears coursed down her cheeks.

"Mama, it hurts. It hurts so much." Elsa's voice was soft, almost childlike. She hadn't called Iduna "Mama" in decades. 

Swallowing back her own panic, Iduna switched on the light and came to Elsa's side. It was then that she saw the blood spreading across the sheets. 

…………

"I don't like the tubes an' straws."

Iduna blinked, struggling to pull herself out of memories and back to reality. 

"Tubes and straws? What do you mean?"

Jenny curled up, tucking her head against Iduna's chest. "Mama had them. In her arms. They were scary." Her voice was muffled, but Iduna could hear the tremble in her words. 

"Oh, little one, that is rather scary, isn't it?" Iduna reached behind her and pulled down the well-worn shawl, knitted by her own mother. She wrapped it around Jenny, making sure to tuck the ends in, quickly wiping the tears that threatened to leak out. 

If she was honest with herself, the wires and tubes frightened Iduna as well.

………………

"Mister and Missus Runardsund?"

Iduna startled, so lost in her thoughts she'd failed to hear the nurse approach. Next to her, Agnarr all but shot up, tension in every line of his body. The nurse- Leisel, Iduna remembered- gave him a wary look. 

Not that Iduna blamed her. Agnarr had… lost his temper when Leisel prevented him from going past the waiting room when Elsa was brought in. Iduna admired the nurse- few could stand up to her husband like she had- completely unfazed despite him being well over a foot taller than her. 

Iduna rose slowly, feeling the dread grow. Her traitorous mind conjured the awful dialogue- "I'm so sorry, but there was nothing we could do…"

Were they to lose both their daughter and grandchild?

It took a second for Iduna to realize that Leisel was speaking.

"...significant blood loss, however, we were able to stop it, and Elsa made it through the surgery. We have her in an ICU room right now, but we are hopeful that this will be temporary. Her baby was taken to the NICU. Unfortunatly at this time, I can only allow one guest in the room. By tomorrow, we'll be able to increase the visitor limit, but for now- I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Iduna murmured, feeling it was anything but, "It's hospital policy. Agnarr, do you…?"

He shook his head, reaching out to take her hand. "Go. I'll be down in a bit to switch with you. Go see our daughter."

Iduna nodded, then turned to follow Lesiel. Along the way, Lesiel gave her more information, speaking about vitals and statistics that Iduna only half-listened to. Eventially they stopped in front of a closed door. Leseil placed her hand on the door handle and looked up.

"I do want to warn you, Missus Runardsund, it may be difficult to see your daughter right now. We have her connected to several machines, so I want to make sure you know what you'll be seeing."

Iduna felt her throat constrict. "Let… let me see her, please." 

Lesiel nodded and pushed open the door.

She wished Agnarr had come with her. Because no amount of pharmaceutical knowledge, no warning from Lesiel, could prevent Iduna from staggering and sucking in a sharp breath.

A veritable web of wires and tubes sprouted from Elsa's body, snaking to various machines that whirred, buzzed and beeped. Her skin was pale, even for Elsa, with a grayish tinge and bruises already growing where the needles sunk in. 

Iduna made her way to the bedside, taking Elsa's hand in her own, trying to ignore how cold and clammy it was. Tried to see her daughter past the mechanics keeping her alive.

Tried to keep hope.

………….

"Can you read me a story?"

Iduna smiled, almost relieved. She often wished she had her granddaughter's ability to move on quickly. Even though Iduna had already read a story earlier in the evening, she certainly wouldn't deny her another one.

"Okay fine, one more story, but then you really have to go to bed."

Jenny made a small sound of triumph as Iduna stood, making her way over to the section of the bookshelf she and Agnarr ensured to be well-stocked with children's stories. Freeing a hand, Iduna ran a finger over the titles until she found one that made her smile. Pulling it out, Iduna returned to the rocker and situated Jenny back on her lap, making sure the shawl was wrapped comfortably about her. Iduna put on her reading glasses and showed Jenny the title. 

"Guess How Much I Love You!" Jenny cheered. "I love this book!"

"Oh, I know. I gave your copy to your Mama when you were still in her belly. Now, let's begin…"

…………..

Iduna lowered Jenny into bed, brushing away a strand of flyaway hair and lightly tucking the blankets around her. Jenny took after Elsa with blankets- she didn't use many, and by morning, they were often in a heap on the floor, no matter what the temperature. Iduna didn't remove the shawl- Jenny needed it more than she did.

"She's asleep?"

Agnarr’s voice was pitched low and quiet- Jenny didn't so much as stir. Iduna nodded and made one last check to ensure Frog and Chicken were cuddled close before rising- her knees got worse each year, she swore. She joined Agnarr in the hall, leaving the door open just enough they could hear Jenny if need be.

"She video-chatted with Elsa today. She said the IV and monitor lines scared her." 

Agnarr pulled her close, resting his head atop hers. "They scare me. But from what Alarik said today, she won't need them in too much longer."

Iduna curled her head into his chest, breathing deeply, taking comfort in his solid form. She could feel tears leaking from her eyes. Agnarr rubbed her back, murmuring softly in Norwegian, calming her.

The sound of the front door opening broke them apart, and they both came to the landing to see Alarik stagger in. He was haggard-looking, with stubble covering his face and neck, and deep shadows under his eyes. Iduna rushed down to meet him, and he gave her a weak smile. 

"How is Jenny?"

"She's doing okay. She just went to sleep a few minutes ago." Iduna was helping Alarik remove his jacket and saw the concerned look on his face. No good trying to hide anything from him.

"The monitoring equipment on Elsa scared her when they video-chatted today. So we read a story together, and she was able to fall asleep."

Alarik looked blankly at her for a few seconds, then sank to the step, dropping his face into his hands. His shoulders shook, and Iduna could hear soft, broken sobs. 

"Oh, Alarik." She sat down next to him, wrapping her arms around him the best she could. "There, there, let it out. Just let it all out." Alarik didn't lift his head, but he did lean into her, and Iduna couldn't help but to wonder how long he'd been keeping everything bottled up, to keep a strong appearance for everyone.

He was too much like his father-in-law for his own good sometimes.

Agnarr settled on the step behind them, wrapping an arm around Iduna, and, after a moment's hesitation, Alarik as well. For how long they sat like that, Iduna wasn't sure, but then a soft voice spoke over Alarik's quieting sobs.

"Papa? Are you okay?"

They all looked up simultaneously to see Jenny at the top of the stairs, wrapped in the shawl. She padded down the stairs and squeezed her way to Alarik's open side, removing the shawl and doing her best to put it over his shoulders. Iduna caught the other end and adjusted it. Alarik sniffed and pulled his daughter close.

"I'm sorry, Eldig. It's… it's been a long day for me."

"You're tired?"

Alarik wiped away the tears clinging to his cheeks and nodded. "I am, Eldig. Quite tired."

Jenny took his hand, tugging. "Let's go to bed, Papa." 

Iduna stood up with Alarik, motioning with her head for Agnarr, who was watching the scene with an unreadable look, to move. "That's a very good idea, Jenny. In fact, do you think you can share your bed with Papa tonight?" When Alarik opened his mouth, she raised an eyebrow. "You need to be together tonight." She was glad at that moment that she and Agnarr had kept the full bed in Anna's old room, even though it often looked like Jenny was being eaten by it. 

Jenny nodded enthusiastically, pulling Alarik's hand. "Come on Papa, we'll have a sleepover!" Alarik gamely allowed himself to be led up the stairs, turning to mouth 'Thank you' to Iduna. 

Agnarr's hand found hers, and she squeezed it. "I think it's time for all of us to get some rest."

Iduna followed his lead up the stairs, back to their room. She peeked into Anna's old room as they passed, finding Jenny already curled into Alarik's side. He looked already half-asleep, but he gave her a small smile before tucking the shawl around Jenny. 

Iduna smiled back. They would be alright. It would take time, but they would be alright.

[deanstop13billyjoeltraxx]

Superposition

a deancas college roommates AU

Dean Winchester had it all at Wichita State University — a second chance, a future devoid of his father, and a roommate-turned-best friend who understands him inside and out.

But his father dies, he fails out in his second semester, and Castiel Novak leaves without so much as a goodbye.

Three years later, Dean has picked up the pieces. He works at the most trusted auto-shop in Lawrence, he’s putting Sam through college. Dean thinks it can’t get much better than that.

Then Castiel Novak gives him a concussion, and everything falls apart. Again.

Chapter 2 is up on AO3 (and below the cut)! Tumblr chapter masterlist here.

Classic Rock and Other Foreign Concepts

Three Years Earlier

Castiel Novak was ready for his second chance. 

Sure, the name “Wichita State University” held no cache, and sure, it was only two hours away from home. But it was a full ride, it was free of old high school acquaintances. It was enough. 

Castiel stood at the door of his empty dorm room, hope blooming in his chest as he regarded the dingy bunks and linoleum floors. 

He didn’t have much in the way of belongings, so moving in was quick and easy, even by himself. Castiel made his bed, hung up his limited outfits in the dresser, and filled his desk with his books and paper. Only one thing remained in his suitcase — a picture of his family, two Christmases ago. Castiel took it out and looked at it for a moment, before deciding to place it on his desk. 

He decided it might be a good idea to familiarize himself with his new surroundings. That was sure to calm down the inevitable anxiety that his first trip to the showers would bring. Castiel strolled down the hallway, doing his best to stay out of the way of all of the other freshmen moving in on his floor. 

After successfully discovering the bathroom and the water fountain, as well as narrowly avoiding an awkward encounter with two giggling girls who were apparently intent upon introducing themselves to him, he returned to his room with a sigh.

Castiel moved to his desk and opened his computer. He pulled up his course schedule, reviewing it again, despite having already committed it to memory. Tuesdays and Thursdays would be difficult, he thought, with financial accounting, economics, and an intro to business. The other days were more interesting, holding philosophy, creative writing, and nineteenth century British literature. 

Castiel was about to read the class descriptions for the millionth time when a loud thud and a grunt interrupted his thoughts. He stood up, fast, almost knocking his head on the bottom of his bed. Castiel got to his open door just in time to almost run into someone. 

“Shit! Watch it, man!”

Castiel found himself face to face with… Plastic storage bins. The man holding them shifted to reveal a mild scowl. Castiel cleared out of his way, and the man set the three boxes down. 

“Sorry,” Castiel muttered. 

“You’re fine,” the man grumbled. “Sorry, long drive.”

“Dean Winchester, I presume?” Castiel said, cautiously. He had seen his roommate assignment online weeks earlier.

“Damn straight,” Dean said, and he offered a hand out to Castiel, who accepted it graciously. “Sorry, man, I’m terrible with names. Have we met?” 

“I’m Castiel Novak,” Castiel replied, then added, “We haven’t met, but the website informed me of your name and email address. I emailed you a few weeks back.” 

Dean nodded. “I definitely didn’t respond. Sorry ‘bout that, I kind of haven’t had access to the internet in… Well, it’s a long story. Anyway, good to meet you.” 

“You as well. Do you need any help unpacking?” 

“Least you can do after nearly killing me.” Castiel tensed, but then Dean clapped him on the back. “Kidding. Help would be great.”

Castiel moved to unpack the box nearest him, but Dean stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“No! Uh, not that one. No offense, but that’s the most important thing I own. Give me a second, you can start on this one.” 

Castiel tilted his head in inquisition, but Dean said nothing more, just got to unpacking the bin. Castiel set to work on the second of the three, first grabbing the sheets to make the bed. 

When Castiel had finished with Dean’s bed, he turned to see Dean had set up a record player and a pair of bookshelf speakers on the floor. 

“Behold,” Dean announced. “My prized possession.” 

“A record player?” Castiel asked. 

“Not just the record player,” Dean said. He went back to the box, which Castiel could now see was filled with vinyl LPs. “The whole collection.”

“It’s quite impressive.”

“Fuckin’ A-right,” Dean said. “Here, you like Zeppelin?” 

“Embarrassingly, I have no idea who that is,” Castiel said, blushing.

Dean’s eyes widened. “Dude! No way! Oh man, it’s time to educate you. How have you survived this long Zeppelin-less?” 

“My father was strict about music.” Castiel felt suddenly very nervous that this, combined with his near-toppling of Dean moments earlier, would have him solidly fixed on Dean’s bad side. But Dean was flipping through his records with animation, as if Castiel’s ignorance was a game to be won. 

“That’s utter bullshit,” Dean declared. “Here, listen to this.”

Dean put on Led Zeppelin IV. Castiel turned back to the plastic bins, intent upon doing something while the record played. He was quiet as he worked, setting up first an ancient-looking coffee maker, then a small, LCD monitor. Dean unpacked his clothes, quietly singing along to the music.

“Do you need help with the rest?” Castiel asked when they had finished, assuming there had to be more than just those three boxes. Dean chuckled quietly. 

“Nah, this is it. Thanks for the help, Castiel.” 

Castiel raised an eyebrow, but only said, “You’re welcome.” Dean had brought even less than he had. 

“That’s a weird name, by the way,” Dean said, turning the volume down on the speakers. “Castiel. It sounds kind of --” 

“Ancient?” Castiel supplied, and Dean nodded. “That’s because it is. It’s adapted from the name of an angel in the third book of Enoch.” At Dean’s blank look, Castiel added, “Christian apocryphal lore. My parents are very religious.” 

“Ah,” Dean said. “And you…?”

“Haven’t been to church since I was fourteen,” Castiel finished. “We are very different, my family and I.” 

Dean nodded. “That them?” He asked, pointing at the picture on Castiel’s desk. 

“Yes,” Castiel said. 

“That’s a lot of kids.” 

“Yes, there’s five of us.” 

“Road trips must have been fun,” Dean said.

This actually got a laugh out of Castiel. 

“I’ve only got one. My kid brother, Sam,” Dean said.

“How old is Sam?”

“God.” Dean rubbed his face, considering. “I guess he’s fourteen now. It’s weird — I feel like I can never see him as any older than, like, eight.”

“I can’t say I understand,” Castiel replied. “I’m the youngest.” 

“Damn, that must suck, four older siblings. What’re their names?”

Castiel picked up the picture. “The boy on the left — he’s the oldest — that’s Gabriel. The other is Bartholomew. The redhead is Anna. And then there’s Hannah, she’s just a couple years older than me.” 

Dean nodded, moving to his record player. He pulled a small, worn piece of paper from the inside. 

“This is old as hell,” he said, showing Castiel the picture, “but that’s my dad, and that’s Sam when he was… ten, maybe?” 

“It’s just the three of you?”

“Yeah, my mom died when I was, like, four.”

“I apologize, I didn’t mean to --” 

“No worries, man,” Dean said. “Long time ago.”

There was an awkward pause that made Castiel want to open his computer just to look preoccupied, but Dean spoke. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t get over this name stuff. I can’t be roommates with a dude named after an angel.” 

Castiel felt his entire body deflate. Day one, and just his name was already making things difficult. “I’m… Sure there’s a way to switch roommates. But, what’s wrong with being named after an angel?”

“Dude, I was totally joking,” Dean said, putting his hands up defensively. “I’m not switching roommates — unless you’re secretly a vampire or something.” Castiel smiled at that. “And there’s nothing wrong with it, I’m just not into the whole religion thing. Makes me feel weird. Nah, I’ll just have to call you something else. Any suggestions?” 

“I’ve always just been ‘Castiel.’” 

“Man, haven’t had many creative friends,” Dean said. “Cas it is, then.” 

“Cas?” Castiel replied. He considered the new nickname. Castiel actually found it strange that no one had ever thought of it before, now that he had heard it. “I suppose it is a great deal shorter.”

“Easier to say, too,” Dean said. “It fits.”

Castiel smiled tentatively. “Sure.” 

The music faded, and Dean flipped the record to the B-side. 

“What do you think so far?” He asked. 

“It’s certainly different than what I’m used to. In a good way,” Castiel added. 

Dean beamed at him. “Awesome. I have more in here, too, and it’s not just Zep. Mostly the classics — the Stones, Rush, AC/DC… And a shit load of grunge, too. Man, wait til you hear Alice in Chains…” 

Castiel smiled at his animation. “Music is important to you?” 

“Dude, I couldn’t function without music. I feel like every time I listen to a song I like, I find something new that makes it even better.” Dean chuckled to himself. “Sorry, I’m geeking out about classic rock.”

“I don’t mind,” Castiel said, and he found that it was true. “I feel similarly about books.” 

“You like to read?”

“Immensely.” 

“You’ll have to give me some recommendations. I read Vonnegut in high school, and that was cool, but other than that and Harry Potter I think I’m pretty hopeless.”

“I will,” Castiel said, even though he knew he wouldn’t, even though he knew Dean was simply saying the polite thing. He had learned by now that when people asked about him to talk about the things he liked, they were just being nice. 

Dean asked Castiel which end of the hall the bathrooms were on, and excused himself.

When he returned, Dean clapped his hands together. “So,” he said. “I gotta ask you the Freshman Questions.” At Castiel’s confused look, he elaborated: “You know, the two things you ask everyone for your whole freshman year. Where are you from, what are you majoring in?” 

Castiel nodded. “I see. I didn’t know there was a procedure.” 

Dean looked at him for a moment. “It’s not — I was kinda joking.” 

“Oh. Right,” Castiel said, rubbing his neck. “Well, I’m from Guthrie — it’s a small town in Oklahoma, just a few hours south of here. And I’m studying accounting and creative writing.” 

“Guthrie… I’ve driven through there, on our way to Oklahoma City for a job my dad worked once,” Dean said. 

“It’s not very impressive.” 

Dean laughed. “Nah, not really.” 

“What about you, Dean?”

“I’m from Lawrence — it’s northeast of here. And I have no fucking idea what I’m gonna major in,” he said. “I’m not really… Well, Sam is the smart one. That kid is gonna kick ass when he goes to school. I’m kinda just here to…” Dean trailed off. 

“Experience it?” Castiel suggested. Dean shrugged. 

“Yeah, I guess.” He cleared his throat. “Why accounting? I get the writing thing, you said you like books — but accounting? I feel like those two don’t mix.”

“They don’t,” Castiel agreed. “But I don’t want to be a starving author. I do want to be able to take care of myself.” I want to be far, far away from everything I’ve ever known. I want to leave and never look back.

“Fair,” Dean said. “I don’t know about you, Cas, but I’m starving. Wanna grab some dinner?” 

“Sure,” Castiel said with a smile.

 The next day, in his first creative writing class, the professor asked each of them to share their major, their hometown, and a fun fact. He called, “Novak, Castiel?” 

“Double major in accounting and writing. I’m from Guthrie, Oklahoma. I suppose a fun fact is that I’m named after an angel, but you can just call me Cas.” 

[losingitinjersey]

Ten days in and I’m officially in love.  Erp’s (extremely detailed) birth story coming atcha below.

Friday morning I woke up after having taken my first half dose of Unisome so I got the perfect night sleep with minimal grogginess in the morning.  Despite the good night sleep I felt off when I woke up.  Had some loose stools and slight nausea which was weird for me.  It made me take my time getting ready.  

I got the pleasure of seeing Kevin in the morning because he was going in for his surgery rotation exam so he had a later start time than his recent 4am mornings.  At 8:15 a.m. I was putting on a compression sock and the next thing I know I feel myself peeing/leaking on the fresh pad I just put on.  This was unexpected since I literally had just gone to the bathroom and this was too much wetness for a normal bladder leak, especially since I didn’t cough/sneeze/laugh to cause it.  Then some cramping started and I immediately started sobbing at the realization of what this meant and got myself to the bathroom immediately.  (all while wearing still just half of one compression sock)

I had been texting with my sister that morning (since she’s the only other person awake on the east coast that I text with prior to 8a.m.), told her earlier that I felt weird so she was the first person I texted that I think my water had broken.  She told me to call her immediately and she calmed me down and was so happy/excited for me.  She said she’d handle calling my mom (who it was 5a.m. for in California) and told me to call the OB’s office.  Mind you, Kevin is now 15 minutes into his exam and when he left that morning he said, “this will all be over in 6 hours” so I’m going into this thinking he’d be completely unreachable until 2 p.m.  I text my mother-in-law, as I’m waiting for a call back from the OB, to keep her updated and she immediately calls me and tells me to call an ambulance or get an Uber and to get to the hospital asap.  The fact that my pain was coming from my vagina and not lower back or abdomen had her worried and she wanted me checked out right away.

Even though I was in pain, and it was increasing, I didn’t think an ambulance was necessary so I texted my next door neighbor to see if she could drive me but she wasn’t responding.  Katie, my other neighbor, was in Jamaica so she wasn’t an option.  In the meantime, the OB office calls back, I describe what’s happening and she confirms that yes, I need to go to the hospital and she will meet me there.  Thankfully, the woman that’s on call is my favorite person out of the entire office of 15 providers, so I’m happy it’s her (Nell, a midwife).  Shortly after I hang up I order a Lyft and they were en route before I started getting myself dressed.  As we had planned to do all of our last minute prep work this weekend since Kevin would finally be done with his intense surgery rotation, we didn’t have a hospital bag packed.  I put on the only clothes that were clean(ish), comfy, and nearby, along with some slippers and took one last belly bump pic before locking up my house, saying goodbye to my cat (who was thoroughly freaked out due to my cries of pain), and waddling to the Lyft parked outside my house.  

I tried to act cool in the car not wanting the dude to know he was transferring a woman actively in labor to the hospital but there was a good chance he was aware given how stiffly I sat in his car and how my body language read not to talk to me.  Thankfully, the hospital is nearby and 15 minutes later he pulled up to the entrance and I got out of the car and started sobbing again.  I walk through the hospital doors and see the single security/registration guy and tell him I’m in labor and ask where I go.  He starts giving me directions and I just repeat back to him verbally and with my hand, “three?” and he confirms yes, third floor.  (Surprised he didn’t grab me a wheelchair or accompany me).  I make my way to the elevators, still sobbing, hit the button and head up to the third floor with a woman in scrubs also getting off on that floor.  I walk out of the elevator, stop and look around at all the signs trying to figure out where to go from here.  She tells me to turn left so I blindly walk that way alone.  I come to a door with a button so I hit the button and am buzzed in.  I’m now in a long hallway, not knowing where to go or why no one is helping this pregnant crying woman.  

I come up to a desk, eyes blurred with tears and see a sign in book so I grab the pen not sure what else to do and a woman behind the counter comes up so I look up at her, tell her I’m in labor and I don’t know what to do.  She then walks with me to a group of nurses and one of them walks me back into a room and has me sit down on a hospital bed, gets me a gown and talks me through a bunch of questions.  At one point she makes a comment about how I haven’t gone through any classes.  And I’m like, what?  Lady, I’ve gone to every single one.  She sounded surprised and asked why I was crying then.  Um, I’m alone and going through this for the first time - I’m allowed to express how I’m feeling and that feeling is incredibly scared.  

Nell comes in and checks where I’m at and it hurts really bad.  She says she can’t tell how dilated I am because something about how my cervix hasn’t gone through a pregnancy before but she did say that she could feel Erp’s head.  Which shocked me since at my appointment on Monday they commented about how high up the baby was.  At this point, I’m then left mostly alone to go through waves of contractions, which hurt far far far worse than I ever expected, with a nurse randomly coming in and out.  I’m given an IV and a few medications to curb the pain which were helpful but I definitely was still experiencing an exorbitant amount of discomfort and anguish.  

Finally around 10:30 a.m. they start talking about getting me an epidural which needed to wait until I had my blood work processed.  By 11 a.m. Kevin had arrived just as they started to administer my epidural.  I was really glad he was there even though I was so blinded by pain that I wasn’t able to do much but grip the bed rails and ride them out.  After my epidural took effect I felt SO MUCH BETTER.  I had this extreme euphoria that made me forget all the pain I had just experienced.  I remember even thinking to myself that it wasn’t that bad, I could totally get pregnant again asap.  

I’m then checked again and to everyone’s surprise I’m already dilated to a 10.  I couldn’t believe it.  From what I thought labor was like I thought it would take hours upon hours if not days to get to a 10, not 3 hours.  Nell has me hang out for an hour and a half while the epidural wore off so I could get some feeling back to start pushing.  Around 1 p.m. I start actively pushing in spurts with the help of Kevin and the nurse.  During this time, Kevin takes the 5-10 minute down times to work on completing the paper he has to submit by 4 p.m.  Remember that 6 hour time frame he told me about this morning?  That included writing a paper so while his test was done in 2.5 hours and he immediately came to the hospital after finishing the test and checking his phone (their phones and all belongings are kept in a separate room during exams so he didn’t realize I was in labor until after he finished the test).  So he was able to write, finish and submit his paper all while helping hold my legs and coaching me through pushing.  What a man!  

At 4:32 p.m. I made my final push (which hurt a lot more than the rest of the pushes) and out came Erp.  They placed this warm, slimy baby on my stomach (she had an incredibly short umbilical cord so that was as high as they could place her) and the first words out of my mouth were, “what the fuck.”   I “knew” a baby came at the end of this pregnancy but it was still so so so weird to now have this tiny creature with me.  Kevin cut the cord and they placed her on my chest as I came to grips with the fact that she’s ours.  The nurse was snapping pictures and they all came out with me having the most puzzled faces of disbelief but Kevin’s smile is beaming through :)  At birth her stats were 6lbs 14oz and 21 inches.  We stayed at the hospital for the next two days and were discharged the afternoon of Sunday, December 20th.  (also shown above is the intense rats nest in my hair from going through labor and staying in bed for two days)

I’ve gone through such intense waves of emotion since my water broke.  From extreme fear, to the highest high of happiness euphoria, to sobbing at just looking at her and realizing how blessed we are, to irritability and general moodiness, to very deep sorrow at the realization that I don’t get to stay home and live this life with her - that I have to go back to work in an extremely short time span and hand her off to a stranger (who’s to be determined).  I’ve never felt mood swings more powerful than this in my life and I’d be lying if I said things are all just peachy keen.  I’ve never experienced sleep deprivation like this nor this strength of hormone shifts.  Yes, we’re healthy and happy and incredibly blessed but this has been much more emotionally charged than I anticipated, both positively and negatively.  

On the whole, though, we’re doing really really well.  She’s a great baby who is above all healthy, rarely fussy, is a self soother, and loves snuggling.  She’s my little squish and I get excited every time I get to see her, which is at least every three hours due to her feeding schedule.  

Thank you all for sharing your support, love and excitement for us during this oh so exciting time!  

[the-woman-in-the-writing]

“When the Moon Walked Among Us” a short fiction

Rating: PG Word Count: 3,164

Author’s note: I’ve always been good at remembering my dreams, and that seemed like a useless talent until I dreamed the world ended. I wrote this story as a way of preserving how vivid and realistic (yet a bit weird) my dream was, though please take note that I am not the narrator (in my stories, the narrator is never me). I didn’t revise, add, or deleted any scene or part in this dream-story. Everything you’re about to read was purely dreamed by yours truly. 

 Maybe it was the end of the world. Maybe it wasn’t. They never knew for sure what it was and why it happened. Only one thing was clear: nothing was ever the same again. Not after everything…

No.

 I.

People came together all over the world to watch the Super Moon. They packed their tents and barbecues, set up camp in wherever there was a clear field and open sky, turned off their lights, and waited. Families, friends, lovers, and strangers. We all came to watch the Super Moon that was said to last for a whole day. People chatted with one another, talking about their families or whoever they came with, over burgers and beer. The children made new friends and played by the sunset with their flashlights and food wrapper paper planes.

Everyone waited for the Super Moon.

They said it will be the most beautiful thing you’ll ever see. And it was. Despite everything that happened after, it really was.

When the evening came and everyone had piled up beside their tents and prepared their telescopes or binoculars, the Super Moon came into view: beautiful, big, round, and luminous, tinged and glowing with a creamy orange light that everyone marveled at. We were wolves staring at the moon, waiting to be transformed into something greater and stronger. It was so close that you could almost see every spot and crater in great detail even without a telescope or binoculars.

Then we went home, talked about it on the drive, posted pictures of it on the internet with stupid captions and hashtags, and showed it on the news. But as the world spun around this captivating piece of heaven, we all took turns, the people of the world. Of viewing. Of taking photos. Of making art. Of writing poetry. At one point you could say everyone was looking at the same thing as you could never miss it, this beautiful thing.

Later, people will believe that the Super Moon brought the world together for one tiny yet impactful moment in history. Not everyone will think so, but most will.

But we would all agree that this was the beginning.

“I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.” - Romans 8:18

 II.

No one could sleep.

When it started, no one knew why. Everyone in the world shifted in their beds and wondered why it was 2am and they couldn’t sleep. Though we all woke up on time, in sync with our 7am alarm, the atmosphere felt like noon: hot and awake. At work or at school we all exchanged, I couldn’t sleep last night’s and me too’s, and two hours after we all ate our lunches the sun was already setting. We were all confused. That night, no one got a good night’s sleep.

We asked the scientists, but some of them kept silent. Some of them said it was normal. We didn’t know what to think; we just wanted to sleep.

After a while, people started getting sick or getting into accidents. Most of us developed insomnia and loss of appetite. Those who started falling asleep again began while they were driving on their way to work. By the end of the month, most of the headlines yelled CRASH, DEAD, and INJURED. Children cried out of fear, wondering why they couldn’t avoid the darkness of the night by sleeping. Their parents grumbled, tired and sleepless as well.

Our days shortened. Life felt fast with our 16-hour days, but we’re humans. Of course, we found a way to adjust to it eventually. We stayed up all night partying, reading, drinking, texting, praying, and wandering; we opened and closed our stores much later; we extended our Late, Late Shows; and we made clocks that had shorter hours.

That didn’t mean we slept well and regularly again. Sometimes we would still shift in our beds and turn our pillows over and under our heads. The digits of 8 midnight would seem to blink endlessly by our bedside table. And if sleep was hopeless, we all stared at the moon, which was closer than it was three months ago.

“Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed…” - 1 Corinthians 15:51

 III.

It was all over the news: a lion with a school of dead fish washed up ashore on a beach in India. No one knew where the lion came from or how it made it all the way there, but people were speculating it had something to do with the moon and how it traveled a hundred thousand kilometers closer to us in just five months.

Again, we asked the scientists. And again, they either kept silent or said it was normal.

It’s part of the earth’s natural process.

It was bound to happen sooner or later.

It’s nothing to worry about.

From 384, 400 kilometers to 274, 575, we knew that was something to worry about, but we didn’t know everything. The how’s and the why’s. So, we relied on the scientists, because in science we trust and in God we doubt.

No one lived by the beaches anymore, even fishermen. By day, beaches would get so dry that you could walk for three hours and see nothing but land still. You’d step on a dead baby crab once in a while and by the time you’re looking back to where you came from, your legs would be gift-wrapped with seaweed and glittered with sand. At first, we couldn’t figure out the best way to fish and go on cruises because by night the water would get so high that it would swallow up any structure within fifty kilometers. In Ireland they say you’d be able to climb half of a sea cliff during the night.

After a while, the ecosystem went crazy and we went hungry. Partly because we’d just been adjusting to the 16-hour days, but mainly because the animals had a harder time getting used to it. Most of the fishes we caught were dead, and no one dared to fish in the middle of the night as weather became more unpredictable. Crops were no exception. Half of them died along with the marine life.

But then again, we were humans. We found a way to survive.

Almost everything we ate were manufactured in a shape of a cylinder or cube. We wrote recipe books that said, “101 Ways to Cook Canned Food” or “Canned You Cook This?” And we hid almost every vegetable we had left in fear of someone stealing it. Then by moonlight, if we felt having something that reminded us of how the world used to be, we would eat our roasted genetically modified chickens and our children would say, “Daddy, daddy, the moon is the size of my fist!”

“But understand this, that in the last days there will come times of difficulty.” - 2 Timothy 3:1

 IV.

Our days shortened to 14 hours and depending on which part of the world you lived in, you either bathed in the sun or crept in the dark for more than half a day. The lands were cracked eggshells in Southern Asia and Africa, just like their skin. News reporters, missionaries, and tourists who travelled from the cold, dark North cried at swimming pools and parks because they missed the heat, and sometimes children would mistake them for ghosts or banshees.

Earth’s tilt was at 45-degrees and up in the North, where it almost snowed all year-round with only a month to melt almost half of the ice. People who didn’t die to lack of sleep or hunger died in the cold; in the South, they dried up like beef jerky. And before even Christmas arrived there were already no feeding programs or charity cases anymore, because all the beggars were dead and buried under our snow.

One time, a friend said, “My daughter came home from school and gave me her drawing. Their teacher had asked them to draw and color different kinds of people from all over the world and you know what? Even the Asian is black now!” We laughed for a second or so, but we stopped for a lot of reasons. 

“You know, you could draw the moon and the sky and still use the same crayons.”

He replied, “The moon will take half of the paper though”

“And if those days had not been cut short, no human being would be saved. But for the sake of the elect those days will be cut short.” - Mark 13:20

 V.

Big, bold letters sprawled across every outlet store, every shopping center, and every thrift shop, and they all spelled the same thing: WINTER CLOTHES FOR SALE. We scavenged the last of our animals that could provide us warmth and security because nothing says, “We will survive this deadly winter” like wool jackets made from our frozen sheep and a pair of leather gloves, freshly skinned from our endangered cows.

Then the world figured out how to get what it wants. The North began to ask the South for animals: chickens, pigs, cows – every farm animal you can find in a children’s story book. Because no animal we could eat could survive the winter that long and we don’t know where the fishes went. On the other hand, the South asked for vegetables and lots of ice. And finally, we were able to travel conveniently again when we’ve figured out where to put all the ice, and the people of the South were happy as long as they got fresh vegetables on their plates and ice to keep them hydrated and cool. It didn’t matter that their forests and crops burned up and that their rivers were nothing but empty veins, because it was enough that they ate and drank.

It wasn’t easy, of course. We all complained. We all asked the scientists.

“How do we survive?”

We no longer asked if we were going to be okay or if they were lying about half of the world being frozen and the other half burning as something normal, and that we will be finishing the year earlier than expected. The scientists said there was nothing to worry about. We had to take their word for it, because what could we do if even they can’t do something about it?

So, no one just talked about the moon that watched over us, except maybe for the Internet that made jokes and funny pictures about it.

What’s important was that we made it out of this alive.

So, our scientists – all kinds – genetically modified our animals and manipulated our crops; they reproduced fishes in their laboratories; they made special facilities for storing water; they invented brand new foods with whatever was left to help get us all the nutrients we need; and they gave us technology and guides to help us do all of this at home.

If the sky was clear, we would find ourselves looking at the moon and its craters and spots, with our faces painted with moonlight. We were still wolves waiting to be transformed into something greater and stronger. Something that could survive all this.

We prayed.

Even though in science we trust and in God we doubt.

“Pray that it may not happen in winter. For in those days there will be such tribulations as has not been from the beginning of the creation that God created until now, and never will be.” - Mark 13:19

 VI.

What follows is a series of tragedies: tragedies we know of; tragedies we named; tragedies that weren’t 14-hour days, mass animal endangerment, world famine, or a half-frozen, half melting world – tragedies that we were used to.

Earthquakes and the tsunamis that followed sunk islands as we welcomed a new year. All the small countries that lived on islands no longer resurfaced; their people would’ve been declared extinct if it weren’t for migration. If somebody were to make a world map at that time, you’ll no longer find Singapore, Malaysia, Brunei, Fiji, Cuba, or any of the islands as small as them on the map. Half of Japan and Indonesia sunk, and only a quarter of the Philippines resurfaced.

We lost seven percent of the world population. That’s half a billion people crushed by debris and drowned with the resources they traded all over the world. All their memories of their childhoods, first loves, and heartbreaks were reduced to nothing but rocks in the ocean to be covered by algae or barnacles. They were Atlantis, and a story come true have never felt so tragic.

People were devastated, of course. But we were all very hungry too. Those who weren’t affected by the earthquakes refused to help. There were incoming hurricanes and we all thought,

The dead will remain dead.

Half a billion people don’t need food, shelter, or medicine anymore.

There was no use in sharing resources with the few hundreds of survivors when more than a billion need it to stay alive.

Some people thought it was cruel and selfish, but by then we weren’t humans anymore. We were savages scraping what was left of the world we destroyed. And as much as we hate to eat and drink what should’ve been shared to the survivors of the Great Sink, we still did. We were all so hungry. God, we were hungry.

Then the hurricanes came along with their floods, landslides, and tornadoes, and they killed us and our animals. Homes were destroyed. Families were separated. Children were orphaned. There were about five billion people left in the world.

This must be a bad dream, we thought.

A sick joke.

That’s what this is.

“There will be great earthquakes, and in various places famines and pestilences. And there will be terrors and great signs from heaven.” - Luke 21:11

 VII.

People found evidence of advanced technology being developed and used by scientists, the same ones who told us that the world was not ending. (Or so we believed.)

There was a mass production of high-tech projectors and weather instruments that were launched into space to control what we saw on the horizon and what we didn’t. (Or so they say.)

The media was accused and persecuted for false news and being paid of hush-money to keep the so-called truth a secret. (Or so we wanted.)

Hundreds of data was discovered to contain information about a world-wide human experiment determining the effects of a global catastrophe and series of disasters on human behavior. (Or so they say.)

We imprisoned CEOs, scientists, and news reporters. We raided their homes, stole their food and clothes, and hurt their loved ones. We killed them in our dreams every night and ripped them limb by limb in the sleepless ones as we lay on the floors of our wrecked home, covered in snow or in sweat, and still staring at the moon that isn’t back to its rightful, safe distance. (And so we did.)

Everything will be back to normal once we shut down all those projectors and controllers. We will learn to live again and be humans.

And the world was not ending after all.

(And that’s what we wanted to believe.)

“And then many will fall away and betray one another and hate one another. And many false prophets will arise and lead many astray. And because lawlessness will be increased, the love of many will grow cold.” - Matthew 24:10-12

 VIII.

People came together all over the world to watch the world end. They held their children or whoever they had left, gathered food and shared them with others as a last act of kindness, set up camp in wherever there was a field with no debris or remnant of a human being, and waited. Families, friends, lovers, and strangers. We all came to witness The Day that was said to last a lifetime. People chatted with one another, talking about their families or whoever they lost, over empty stomachs and chapped lips. The children stayed with the adults and clung onto them with unending fear and the memory of a lost childhood.

Everyone waited for The Day.

They said it will be the most dreadful thing you’ll ever see. And it was. Despite everything that happened before, it really was.

When the hour came and everyone had piled up beside the broken homes or fallen trees, the moon stared right us as always: terrifying, big, round, luminous, and waiting to collide with our fallen earth. We were wolves staring at the moon, waiting to be transformed into something greater and stronger. It was so close that you could almost see every calamity and loss you’ve endured the past year in great detail even without a telescope, binoculars, or a washed-up family album or baby shoes.

We stayed and faced our inevitable fate. Some still managed to post pictures of it on the internet with stupid captions and hashtags. There were even people who showed it on the news. But as the world spun around this frightening piece of heaven, we all took turns, the people of the world. Of viewing. Of taking photos. Of crying. Of hugging and kissing one last time. Everyone was living the Day as you could never miss it, even if you wanted to.

And we all believed that the moon will crash into us and wipe us out for old times’ sake, but it wasn’t much later that we heard the most chilling, bone shattering sound we ever got to hear: the sound of the moon cracking, like a breaking iceberg, echoing into our souls, and resonating as weeping and almost hushed screams.

Some people swore they saw Christ come out of the moon, accompanied by angels. Not everyone believes so.

But we all agreed that when we saw pieces of the moon falling down on us in slow motion, helpless and blazing, that it was disturbingly beautiful.

It was then that I kissed my wife for the last time.

“But in those days, after that tribulation, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven; and the powers of heaven will be shaken.” - Mark 13:24-25

E P I L O G U E

There were survivors and they were less than a hundred. They spent the last days on earth, freezing, weeping, and gnashing their teeth in the dark. The sun died. The moon is gone. There is only but loneliness living and walking among the few humans who had gathered up the will to keep on breathing.

They couldn’t accept that that was the end of the world. If it was, there shouldn’t have been anyone left. But there was, and it was them.

Soon, they realized there was nothing left to do but wait.

[schalaasha]

Favourite Games of 2019

I don’t like making ranked lists anymore. So here’s a bunch of games old and new I played in 2019 because I was busy catching up due to not playing FFXIV as much as in previous years.

 Ciconia When They Cry Phase 1: For You, The Replaceable Ones

I think going in, and even starting to play it, I felt like maybe the game would abandon the WTC mystery game conventions. It ended up not doing that, because the game leaves you with far more questions than answers at the end. The A3W World (“after World War III”) is still trying to deal with political issues and social issues that existed prior to World War III. A global stalemate exists due to the military implementation of the Gauntlet weapon. Eventually things happen where different countries need to deal with a shortage of resources, territorial conflicts, etc which sets off a chain reaction to World War IV.  However, the children who grew up in the A3W era, settled into new ideologies and views of how society currently works are at odds with what the older generation wants and requires of them. Along the way, they need to deal with other groups and conspiracies in order to maintain the Walls of Peace.

 So in essence, R07 still crafts a mystery for readers to figure out, but it isn’t a murder mystery. It’s an international conspiracy mystery and I am more than okay with that. I think this chapter required a lot of worldbuilding to set that kind of story up and coming out of Phase 1, I understood why the first chapter wasn’t exactly like Umineko’s. I thought that it was handled well, despite some of the purple prose (but if you’ve played a R07 game before, you’re likely used to it).  I also thought he really tried to introduce and incorporate themes including gender, generational differences, societal tiers, geopolitics disguised as sports events (possibly mirroring the 2020 Olympics in Japan), etc. as well as he could throughout the story through the game’s cast. Even if the game meanders a bit (and it definitely feels that way towards the start), when it actually starts to roll, I felt compelled to keep reading.

 And truly, the game has an incredibly large cast of characters. The TIPS section handles introductions well, and while some cast members don’t have as much time in the spotlight as others, I can see them getting their time eventually in subsequent chapters. Clearly Phase 1 exists to focus more on the children from the Arctic Ocean Union (the “AOU”) as evidenced by the additional stories unlocked at the end of the game so hopefully other chapters have the same amount of character backstory for the other factions.  I also genuinely enjoyed that the big international cast of characters allowed for many different types of designs with characters with different types of hairstyles and hair texture or characters wearing hijabs and still managed to make them retain adorableness or a sense of style. I do not recall seeing it as often in Japanese media and I’m very happy to see it here.

 I think Ciconia Phase 1 is a very good start to this subseries’ planned four episodes and I hope to see more sociopolitical commentary. It feels as though R07 looked at everything happening in Japan and social media/how news is consumed and decided to write a four-part SFF series about it. I’m eagerly looking forward to the next chapter.

  Bloodstained: Ritual of the Night

I backed Bloodstained when it got put on Kickstarter a few years ago.  It was shipped to me at… possibly the worst time since Shadowbringers was coming out very shortly after.  My fiancé and I played ours for a short bit, felt very positive about the game, then dropped it to play Shadowbringers.  We didn’t return to it until maybe September/October?  Both of us ended up getting our Platinum Trophies for it so we both played through everything the game had to offer.

 Bloodstained is a good experience, but not without its issues. I played on PS4 and I’ve had a few outright crashes or some glitching into walls early enough that I couldn’t come out of them again due to not having the required skill to try to get out of it.  I also felt like the game meandered or had a bit of padding in its earlier stages). Later on, you realise you have to put in the farming work to have a better and faster time not unlike its Igavania counterparts, but I did feel like the drop rates prior to actually working towards higher luck stats/drop shards were low enough almost to the point of unfair or deliberately wasting my time.  I also felt as though there were too many weapon types; with adequate shard use and shard grinding eventually you can settle into one weapon type that suits your playstyle or eventually use the gun for everything when you get the special hat quest reward).

 However, I’m speaking about this game as someone who platinumed it which requires a lot of farming and synthesis.  As a player going through the main campaign, I think the maps are adequate. The backgrounds are very lovingly crafted, and the music is absolutely one of the best of the year. Boss design is also fun and rewarding, requiring the player to learn how all the different weapon types work, adequate backstepping and closing in, and boss patterns. If you suck, the game will show you that you suck very quickly and deliberately.  Essentially towards the end, I felt as though Bloodstained tried very hard to cater to fans of the metroidvania style of game, and the classicvania style of game. I personally don’t think it completely succeeded but for a first time experience of trying to combine the two into one, it did its job with preparation for another game.  

 I also feel like some criticism was lobbed towards the game’s narrative for being told in library/book entries, and while I understand that (I actually couldn’t open all of the books for fear of my game crashing), I don’t think elaborate cutscenes and continuous dialogue would work well with this game’s flow. Bloodstained prioritizes gameplay elements and player exploration over anything else, and to be honest, I’d rather it happen that way than with long elaborate cutscenes.  I also felt as though I got more out of the game because I’d played the 8-bit prequel as well.

 Overall, Bloodstained is a passable experience. I’m glad I played it, and I’m glad I put the work in to try to make the game a better experience. I got what I wanted out of the game for as much as I backed it and I hope they try again with a similar formula because this is a very good first step.  

  The Touryst

Sometimes when I see a game with voxel graphics, I feel pretty compelled to pick it up because it looks so darn lovingly rendered and it usually ends up being fun.  The Touryst does a good job with its graphical style and visiting new islands is a complete delight because of it. It looks like a game with style, and performs super-well on the Switch. It’s also one of the freshest games I’ve played in a while.

 Basically you’re playing a blocky dude with a moustache who just wants to have a good time but when he gets to TOWA Monument, he’s told he has to find monument cores to unlock the world’s secrets. And then you can do whatever you want. The different islands have their own little personalities: there’s an island called Fijy which is volcanic, there’s Ybiza with a bunch of dudes chilling on the beach and passed out on their chairs, there’s Santoryn which is just Greece, and a few other places that are essentially recreations of real-world places.

 As you explore, there’s a lot of stuff to do. A variety of things to do.  There are puzzles and mechanics that don’t necessarily overstay their welcome, you can play footy, you can play spelunker, you can take helicopter rides, you can take pictures, get stuff for a museum, surf, play rhythm games…. It’s your vacation, do what you want. It’s a little like Vegas. Unlike Vegas, you can use your ever-increasing money and diamonds to get new moves for your moustached character to reach new objects.

 As a little game where you can do whatever you want little by little, and makes for a smooth experience, I’m glad I picked up the Touryst after asking another person what they thought of it. It has great puzzles, lots of stuff to do and explore and see, and ton of minigames for whatever mood you feel like you’re in. The game is fairly short, but I’m very glad the holiday doesn’t overstay its welcome.

  A Short Hike

A Short Hike places you in the shoes of a bird who is utterly determined to walk to the top of Hawk Peak to get signal for her phone.  I totally understand; sometimes you’ve gotta do what you gotta do.  

 But the game allows you to undertake that journey however you want to. You can go right away and finish up and get that darn signal. Or you can take your time and we’ll build that bridge when we get there. There are different types of terrains to explore if you opt to take the scenic route… and it’s rewarding to do so. You can find treasure, you can water a flower, you can talk to the Animal Crossing-esque characters to do some sidequests, you can do whatever you want.

 I’m sorry to say that when the game introduced fishing, I spent a lot of my time doing that. Fishing ruins me. The completionist in me wanted to fish. But the whole thing is that you don’t have to do any of this. If you want to finish the game, you can absolutely positively focus on that and the game doesn’t pressure you for it.  

 And that’s one of the things I like about it. It’s just whatever about the whole ordeal. I don’t feel like I’m completely and utterly missing out if I don’t decide to do something. Even the task of getting Golden Feathers to progress is fine since you only need eight for it, and the game easily gives you enough rewards to get four or five before sidequests or exploration is factored in.

 Sometimes you just need to take a walk and kind of think of nothing just to clear your head. And A Short Hike accomplishes that very well.

  Worldend Syndrome

In my effort to try to find other games to play in 2019 because I’d fallen a little out of love with FFXIV, I realised that taking baby steps with visual novels and bite-sized games would be the best idea to try to get back into traditional games (particularly since I was, and am, still questioning whether I like games as a hobby or not). On a whim, I decided to download a boatload of visual novel demos one night and tried a bunch of them out. Worldend Syndrome’s demo didn’t exactly grab me until perhaps halfway through the demo when I a) realised that this demo was long af, and b) nothing appeared what it had seemed as I kept going through it and the characters were enjoyable.

 So I decided to get the game and dragged my fiancé along for the ride. It’s one of those standard decision-making/pick which girl you want and go down her route VNs but it didn’t really feel skeezy or ecchi other than one particular point in each girl’s story where you get confessed to.  You go through the VN as an unnamed protagonist who is visiting his cousin over the summer, and you and your friends get dragged into a school club whose focus revolves around folklore. The town the protagonist finds himself in is haunted by the Yomibito, spirits of the undead who look exactly like regular people but are eventually driven mad enough to kill.

 One of the things that drew me to this visual novel was its assortment of animated backgrounds. They colourful and gorgeous. Every CG looks nice and coloured well, and the backgrounds for each area you visit are so beautiful and makes every single location easy to settle into.  The cast is also surprisingly decent, where I expected to hate a few people but I ended up being okay with them because they were written well and weren’t as tropey as I had expected.  I was also very pleased that the character that you were roleplaying as wasn’t skeezy when put into situations where he could have been, and that he treated the girls very well (though I won’t deny that there are some spots where behaviour was questionable but it doesn’t happen as often).  Because the characters were written adequately enough, the game’s true ending route comes together very well and very naturally to a point where I could seriously believe that every character got along with one another to make sure the emotional impact of the mystery was satisfying.

 In order to finish Worldend Syndrome, you have to do each route. A few characters’ routes don’t get unlocked until halfway through the game or even until the very end. The game also remembers everything you’ve done when it autosaves the system data on the world map, so if you need to reload a save to figure out someone’s schedule or if you mess up, it’s relatively easy to come back to something you’ve missed. I’ve played a lot of multiple route VNs before and Worldend Syndrome is easily one of the better VNs that allows the player to skip through to something they’ve missed or skip through previously-viewed text for another route.

 As it is, Worldend Syndrome doesn’t really try to do anything spectacular, nor does it try to stand out like other visual novels of 2019 have (ie: Ciconia, presumably AI but I only tried the demo and I hated parts of the script, sorry). It does its job and tells its story which has a very good payoff in the end.

  Judgement

I bought my fiancé Judgement earlier this year, as I had retired from playing Ryu ga Gotoku after Dead Souls/Ishin, and he was still playing the series religiously.  I watched him play through part of it and I felt compelled to get my own copy because the combat looked nice, and the characters were compelling enough that I felt comfortable picking it up.

 Judgement follows former lawyer Takayuki Yagami who is now a detective.  His tale is one of redemption and conspiracies, reminiscent of some Phoenix Wright games (which this game gives clever nods to when the protagonist is in the courtroom). Yagami is more serious and down-to-earth than Kiryu is so the tone of the game feels quite different than other RGG games (or at least the ones I’ve played).

 It still feels like a regular RGG game where you’re still wandering through Kamurocho, you’re still getting into fights with randos and Yakuza dudes, you date girls, you go to buy food, you play minigames, etc. But it isn’t as big as a standard RGG game; because you stay only in the one area, the cast is smaller, you get a job board to get your sidequests from, and the story itself is fairly short and sweet.  I actually prefer that as a lapsed RGG player since it’s easier to get back into the games this way.

 Judgement, however, disappointed me just a little in how little you spend in the courtroom.  You’re given opportunities to present evidence, do some suspect tailing, use your smartphone to catch a cheating husband, or use a drone to search for evidence. I felt like when you had to use the drone to search for evidence, it ruined the pacing a little. The tailing missions are also reminiscent of Assassin’s Creed, and no that isn’t a good thing! Due to this, I felt like Judgement was not necessarily a great detective game but it did a decent job of trying to mold the RGG experience to a different main character.

 Yagami can… fight… for some reason so he can beat up whatever randos come up to him on the streets. He’s actually more acrobatic than I remember Kiryu being in previous RGG games. He can kick off objects, he’s hard to back into a corner, he can do wall-flips, etc. It’s also much easier to earn XP where it’s all in one bar so you can do whatever you want to fill it up like play darts and just put stuff into his lockpicking. As a lapsed fan, the streamlining feels okay. The streamlining for combat also feels good because if you fights go on too long, the popo can come for you and you’d get fined, so emphasis is on finishing fights cleanly and quickly.

 Overall, as a lapsed RGG fan, the way Judgement looks and feels and wraps up its twists and turns was really exciting for me. It may not have as many things to do as other RGG games, but honestly I think being a leaner experience was better and thus didn’t make the game overstay its welcome.  I also am eagerly awaiting RGG7 since I enjoyed the demo a lot and I think the new protagonist can carry the series the way Yagami carried Judgement.

  Cadence of Hyrule

Sometimes, after my fiancé and I bought our Switch, I’d wake up, go brush my teeth, and return to bed just to see my fiancé awake and playing Cadence of Hyrule. I was perplexed as it’s been ages since he’d willingly played a Zelda game, and his hands are super-huge for the joycons so he doesn’t like using them much.

 You can easily say that Cadence of Hyrule is just a Crypt of the Necrodancer reskin with Zelda stuff all over it, but feels pretty clever in that it uses stuff from roguelikes and a rhythm game and makes the A Link to the Past world feel incredibly fresh. Bosses, especially, feel very fresh. Enemies move according to the rhythm and have a unique pattern that’s easily memorized so you can fall into the rhythm and take advantage of. If you’ve played Necrodancer, you’ll probably feel at home in this aspect, especially since the maps are also randomised (which leads different playthroughs feeling fresh).

 The Zelda feels comes from recreating tunes from older Zelda games in puzzles, the magnificent sprite art, the great Zelda remixes, a simple-enough story, and a standard set of things to find in each procedurally generated dungeon. You also find a variety of traditional items like the bow, the bombs, boomerang… and a spear? It’s a nice blend of Zelda and Necrodancer.

 The caveat is that it takes a little getting used to, since you’re not exactly used to not being able to freely move in a Zelda game. But when you do get used to it, it feels good. Everything is pretty expendable and if you die, you don’t feel like you necessarily lose a lot since you can accrue it all easily enough again. It’s unpredictable and that random roguelike nature is something that makes the Zelda experience feel fresh.

  Spirit Hunter: Death Mark

My fiancé and I were trying to find spooky games to play for Halloween that wouldn’t make me squeamish because despite my profession dealing with analysis of body parts and human body fluids, I can’t see that kind of stuff on TV or in games in a realistic sense. It grosses me out. At least when it’s in front of me, it’s already out and off someone’s body and in a fume hood/biosafety cabinet and I didn’t have to see how it happened. My fiancé picked up Spirit Hunter: Death Mark on a sale we went through it together.

 Death Mark is a tale about horror-themed urban legends and a curse that needs to be broken.  People get marked with a crimson bite mark in the game’s H City and they eventually develop amnesia and die. A group of people live and gather at a spirit medium’s mansion (who is dead upon arrival).  The only hint to break the curse in this mansion is a little talking doll named Mary. The protagonist eventually goes through several mysteries in an effort to break his curse and stop others from dying.

 Death Mark does some surprisingly well-crafted worldbuilding. Each spirit you deal with has a well-told backstory, sometimes especially ghoulish (particularly the bonus post-game episode, the first episode, and the one episode with the telephone booth). The game excels with psychological horror and the enemies involved in each boss battle assist in making the player feel that way as well. The backgrounds also lend well to this as while they are simplistic, the shading and colours used help to execute a sense of dread. One particular chapter harkens back to Japan’s Aokigahara, and the backgrounds used connect very well to that particular location so that it feels super-eerie.

 Regardless, Death Mark relies a lot on its text to establish its atmosphere and as someone who reads stuff like R07 VNs and other regular VNs with a lot of text, I was okay with that. The localization was well-done, albeit with some issues that would have been caught in editing but overall it carried the story very well.

 There are boss battles prior to the end of each chapter, where you must use each item you find in your exploration segments. You need to use specific items in a specific order (even with the correct party setup) in order to achieve a good ending for that particular chapter (and thus eventually the game). I thought this was an interesting mechanic and while it got a little tired depending on the spirit, it showcased how creepy some of them can be on your screen.

 Unfortunately, Death Mark does not have a variety for its soundtrack and it’s almost disappointing that the same piano tunes and boss themes played repeatedly as I felt it detracted from the experience.

 Otherwise, I felt like Death Mark was a short and sweet horror experience that played into urban legends and folklore experiences. I loved the little vignettes that eventually ramped up to a central story point. I hope the sequel is good when we get around to it.

  Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice

So my fiancé and I are doing this thing where we’ve started buying one copy of a game so we’d both own it together and go through it together. Sekiro and Man of Medan were two of those games this year.

 Sekiro isn’t really like Souls. Eventually you’ll come to learn that very quickly when the game throws a boss at you and if you try to play like Souls, you’re not going to get the job done.  It will show you that you never learned how to parry properly and you’re going to have to go back and learn it.  Or if you didn’t grab a prosthetic that will make the job easier, you’re gonna have to do that too.

 The game is interesting in that you aren’t exactly whittling down health bars all the time; you’re striking properly so you can overwhelm their posture bars, find an opening, and go in for the kill. Enemy health bars are essentially secondary to that posture bar. You have your own posture bar so you’ve got to learn how to parry properly. Sometimes you need to parry complete combos in order to deliver posture damage back to an enemy. It’s all about getting into the flow and rhythm of combat. And you must beat bosses in order for you to get a stat boost, so being able to beat a boss lies in your skill, and not necessarily your level/equipment.

 Sekiro is Souls-like in its storytelling and worldbuilding. You can run around rooftops and areas to find secrets off the beaten path. You go back and forth between areas and speak to different NPCs to find out their backstories. The plot is also told via NPC conversations with the main characters. At first it’s a little dry but the story opens up eventually. It also has some great voiced NPCs for quests (one quest in particular had voicework that made me feel so sorry for the character that I was like “we need to get the proper item for this guy please don’t make him suffer”).

 It feels rewarding to put in the work in order to beat the bosses, make it so you don’t resurrect as often to make people sick, and meet whatever standard Sekiro is throwing at you. It lets the player know that they’ve met that standard, and then throws another boss phase at them so you have to get even better.

 Owl I’m looking at you.

  Super Kirby Clash

My fiancé and I bought a Switch together this year (which, outside of dinner and movies and clothes, etc. was one of our major purchases together).  We downloaded a few demos to try the control scheme out, including Super Kirby Clash.  I am aware that this game is probably old, but hey it’s still going and it’s still being supported and I’m catching up.

 I’m probably putting it here due to bias, but I think It’s really cute and the hats are super-adorable. I love getting new hats and new weapons for my little Kirby.  It’s fairly standard as far as a “mobile experience” is concerned and playing it a little when I have the time to and hacking away at it little by little is rewarding when I get a new hat or new gear. My fiancé and I played it in multiplayer as well, which felt a lot like Kirby’s Return to Dream Land.

 It’s pretty inoffensive and I haven’t paid real-life money for anything in it, and I still feel like I’m progressing. So as a Kirby game with light RPG elements (ie: something I’ve wanted for years and years), it’s nice to finally see realised.

 Monster Boy and the Cursed Kingdom

An artist I commission very often from convinced me to move this game further up in queue than I originally had it when we were talking about games we were playing after finishing Shadowbringers’ main campaign.  

 Monster Boy and the Cursed Kingdom is the spiritual successor inspired by Wonder Boy III, with the formula being modernized for a new era. It feels fast, and it looks soooooooo pretty. The tracks are bumpin’ too. It’s also a little tough but with every difficult section successfully platformed through, you feel really good about it.

 You play as a plucky boy named Jin whose uncle is an insano who turns everyone in the kingdom into animals. After you experience sweet freedom as a human boy platforming across things easily for like 15 minutes, Jin’s uncle turns him into a pig. Whoops. From there the platforming gets a little harder and you need to learn how to manipulate different forms and different spells in order to get across various sections.

 Different animal forms give you different skills. Pig form allows you to sniff out secrets literally, snake form lets you cling to walls and go through tiny passages, frog has a sticky tongue for swinging, and lion form lets you go through obstacles. You need to use these forms well to platform well enough to get through each area and finish the game. Being successful at platforming in this game feels good and fulfilling and satisfying. As you unlock more, platforming experiences get more and more complex with more obstacles put in your way, so in essence it feels like the opposite of a standard metroidvania.  Playing both Bloodstained and this in one year felt like playing polar opposites. That said, the checkpointing in Monster Boy is really good. Game Atelier knew what they were doing.

 The bosses by contrast were really easy and it’s nice to take the time to look at the art for each boss. All of the effects are also super-nice. Playing Monster Boy on a 4K TV is quite a visual treat for its boss sections, its town section, and its platforming sections. The colours are off-the-charts. Each animal sprite has its own set of unique animations: the piggy farts and looks like >_>, froggy looking at flies, etc. And the music is so good. If this game were a 2019 game I’d definitely put its soundtrack on my list, but it isn’t. It’s a nice blend of new and old stuff and it’s a delight to hear in-context as encouragement to keep going when you fail a platforming section.

 Monster Boy and the Cursed Kingdom is a faithful representation and homage of the old Wonder Boy games. It’s filled with references and secrets and awesome art, and I’m glad to have been convinced to move it up my queue for this year.

  Most Disappointing Game: Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers

I love Final Fantasy XIV. It’s brought me closer to so many people in recent years and I’ve met so many more through it. Playing this game means so much to me and I want the best for it for years to come.  It’s one of the reasons why I’m so critical about it. If I hated this game, I would stop playing and honestly, I wouldn’t care about its future.  I will say this before getting started:  I like Shadowbringers’ story so far (we aren’t going to be finished with its story until 5.3).  I don’t think It’s necessarily as consistent as Heavensward, but I think Shadowbringers’ story is the most Final Fantasy story we’ve gotten since perhaps FF10. Truly, it’s the best we’ve seen for the series this decade.  

 I had a lot of hopes and hype for Shadowbringers.  I hated Stormblood, for a myriad of reasons: social reasons, gameplay reasons, and narrative reasons.  The direction Shadowbringers was going and all the trailers made it seem like it was going to be fresh and exciting and new.  My fiancé and I (and a few others) swapped servers+data centers in advance of the expansion for a fresh start, to boot. I watched the Job Actions trailer over and over and tried to decide what I was going to eventually main and gear up because I didn’t really have a main in Stormblood due to the combat changes and how easy things became for certain things.

 During a live letter, they mentioned that they’re changing how things work in battle, and that’s when I became a little cautious. I was hoping for the best leading up to release and then I saw the scholar/healer changes and got very worried.  I changed mains in Stormblood because playing Scholar was freaking horrible at the start of Stormblood.  

 I eventually had to change mains at the start of Shadowbringers because I was not having fun playing Scholar. For people who didn’t bother to level a healer at all, the writing was on the wall for healers during Stormblood. Essentially, it introduced an age of healing where you barely ever used your GCDs to heal. You mostly used OGCDs and preplanned shields. 90% of the time if you wanted to be a good healer, you’d mostly DPS. I don’t think I’ve cast a GCD heal at all in SB and ShB content unless things were going super-wrong.

 The healing changes introduced in Shadowbringers made us think that things were going to change, that things were going to be harder to heal.  I had my doubts, however, because all fights are scripted and if they were to introduce a substantial change to incoming damage, they would have to make it so most people (casual, midcore, hardcore, less experienced newbies, experienced folks) would be used to It and could handle it.  There was no way they were going to introduce more difficulty given that subscription numbers were increasing.

 And so, healers during Shadowbringers got some damage skills taken away, but in their place, they were given more tools to heal with:

-          White Mage came away from this as a very well-rounded healer at launch. It had its damage spells, it had a damage spell with a stun, it finally had long-standing and easily useable mitigation, it has substantial MP recovery, and it has a damage spell that rewards you for using three GCD heals to make up for damage lost. White Mage still making out like a bandit in 5.1.

-          Scholar felt dramatically different and didn’t feel as solid as it used to be. It had most of its damage tools taken away, the usefulness of its fairy was decreased because let’s be honest it was super-overpowered, it got one of its fairies and its AoE esuna taken away, and it was given its PvP move to act as an AoE that doesn’t have another effect. I had to completely unlearn everything I did as scholar in the last 5-6 years in order to play current scholar. Current 5.1 scholar is overpowered as heck and I don’t feel as satisfied to play it in SB/ShB content.

-          AST LOL. All the cards are balance. MP regen is what. Heals are what. Everything is just what. Other fun skills were removed. That said, I really like AST just because it feels like I have to work twice as hard to achieve the same effect the other healers bring to the table.

 So eventually with all of these changes, we had assumed that healing was going to be harder.  It wasn’t. It’s the same experience and all we’re doing is pressing one single button all the time.  I barely have to heal in dungeons.  I barely have to heal in raid unless my party members step in stupid. I just can’t bring myself to play healer every single day anymore, and I love healing in this game. Or I loved it back when it was more dynamic. I just press one button over and over and over and over and over and maybe sometimes another but I just press one button a lot. It’s really sad and it makes me miss old Cleric Stance of all things.

 I like Shadowbringers’ story. I felt rewarded playing through it as someone who’s played the game for years and did everything when it was in-content. So for me, it was like a good reunion.  There were a lot of points where the story dragged or felt rocky. I felt like the start of the 5.0 campaign was utterly boring and poorly paced.  It picked up again, then slowed down again, then picked up again, then got REALLY BAD, then picked up again for a good finish. I don’t think it’s as consistent as Heavensward’s 3.0 campaign, but it was very solid and made up for the 4.0 campaign.

 However, story is only 20% of the experience for me.  The rest of the time, I need to actually play the game. I actually liked the levelling and crafting changes and new skills they brought in during 5.0 because leveling a crafter never felt easier. I felt like I still had to work hard but the payoff came quickly and my macros still worked as well as they did from during Stormblood. I also used my Stormblood melds and Stormblood equipment for the entire levelling experience and had to make concessions for some of my macros as time went on.  I still had to know what my skills did, basically. The 5.1 crafting/gathering changes kind of make me want to craft less since I don’t feel like I have to solve a puzzle anymore and to be honest, everyone crafts now so you make far less money than you previously did.  The desynth changes also made it so that most of my markets tanked since what’s the point of gathering half the materials when desynth makes those materials easily accessible.  I’m not saying to gatekeep at all, but I feel like the experience should have been a little harder (ie: like the Ixali experience where you had to learn what your skills did or desynth shouldn’t be this easy to keep the market fairly balanced). My server is a crafting server so I am more impacted in general from this. That said, I don’t have anything to spend gil on so it doesn’t matter, I guess.  I just feel far less inclined to participate in what was one of my favourite pastimes in XIV.

 I mained Ninja which got killed in 5.0. I was already dealing with the servers moving from East Coast to West Coast, so adding a bunch of stuff to squeeze into your TA window in 10 seconds in Shadowbringers utterly killed the job for me. 5.1 Ninja throws me off as someone who played this game since the time Ninja was introduced, and I can’t make myself play it. The current opener is the Doton opener (which is something I didn’t like in SB at all) and I can’t always rely on my tank to bring the thing to my Doton. That, and making it so you do different things per every other or every third TA just makes the job a little unpalatable for me at 80. I’m one of those people who wants TA to go. I don’t like that Ninja’s become the TA bot in recent years.  I can still do well with it. People still throw buffs at me, but I don’t find enjoyment in the job anymore and I hope we get a proper retool in 6.0.

 I switched back to ranged. Thankfully Bard hasn’t changed as much since SB (though I still prefer HW Bard like a weirdo), and Dancer is one of those “I worked too damn long today and I just wanna do the mindless brainless rotation” jobs.  I miss old Machinist oddly enough.  It felt really good when you played it well and pulled off a decent wildfire. Now it’s a little easier and I don’t feel as fulfilled playing it. That said, it’s probably the best incarnation of the job since it’s sad little introduction in 3.0.

 Even tanking is substantially easier and that’s a mostly good thing. It sucked going into a low level dungeon and having trouble keeping aggro due to the level syncing and your DPS’ stats. Now you can just turn your stance on and go to town without losing any damage potency like you used to. I kind of miss swapping stances after I’ve established aggro though, because you could tell the difference between a good tank and a bad/less practiced tank if they didn’t bother to swap stances in a fight. Tanks came out of this expansion very balanced, though. They might need some work here and there (warrior I’m looking at you), but overall, they came out the best out of the three roles.

 Other than that, you have monks not knowing what they should be, samurai continuously getting buffed and nerfed, black mage staying consistent, red mage being lol, summoner getting changed to the point where now it’s overpowered, among other DPS changes. DPS overall don’t have as much synergy so you can take any job you want to into raid and it’ll get the job done. That said if you want to do as much damage as possible, you’re generally going to take the same few classes into the raid if you’re less educated about them.  And I feel like the lack of synergy or utility between classes or even the loss of something like mana shift makes the whole experience a little boring.  It’s very “f you, I got mine” or the onus is on the player for their own personal burdens and no one’s really helping each other unless you’re a dancer, trick attack bot, dragoon or bard.

 I really hope the other pieces of content are substantial but what I’ve seen aren’t exactly what I had in mind. Boss refights with an alternate version is really neat but I didn’t really want that for this raid tier. I wanted something more original given what we had to deal with in Omega.  I don’t really care for the Nier Automata crossover because, again, I wanted something original to the XIV lore and the First. I think doubling down on Blue Mage is a bad idea and while some folks like its party-based content now, I can’t bring myself to keep doing the content given that it’s clear they don’t know what to do with it (or didn’t know what to do with it). With one dungeon coming per patch I have to question what’s happening internally or what they’re working on. I know SE is weird internally and I really hope that the kind of stuff I’ve read in previous postmortem articles isn’t happening.

 Either way, I’m really disappointed that I want to stop playing XIV so much when it’s the most popular among my friends and followers because it’s so dissatisfying to me and it’s the most accessible that it’s ever been. I hope things get better eventually but going by what I think they have in store and their old reliable formula, I don’t have hope. I’m tired of the formula and I feel like it needs a shakeup. Overall, I’ve been less happy playing FFXIV than I’ve ever been and it makes me feel really sad. 

[stomachflu]

hey, remember like a year ago when i was like “maybe i’ll write a second part to the story of how lynn and reed met if i feel like it?” well i’ve been struggling with

and i thought that i’d write something Just For Me to get me back in the swing of things. 

VERY long stomach flu-oriented fic (planning for another few parts! this isn’t the last one!!), very self indulgent. warnings for mentions of scat, but nothing explicit. hope yall enjoy!

---

Lynn groaned as she felt her phone buzz in her back pocket, every muscle in her body aching as she twisted to grab it. It was nearly too much effort to switch the too-bright screen on, let alone read the message with watery eyes. The first one was, apparently, from an hour ago.

>Reed: hey did u make it back home ok

>Reed: lynn

>Reed: are you ok

Lynn closed her eyes, resting her head against the cool metal side of the bathroom stall. She’d traded numbers with Reed after they’d walked her to the clinic before heading to class, where she’d promised to text them that she was okay prior to receiving an official diagnosis of “godawful stomach flu” with the proposed cure of “wait it out, if you can’t keep water down after a few hours then come back for an IV“.

>Lynn: not rly

Her head swam and her hands were shaking, making it hard to compose a message. Reed was already typing a response to her last text.

>Lynn: my roommate’s apparently a germophobe? and she wont let me into the room unless I’m not gonna puke

>Lynn: so ive just been like camping out in the lounge & now I'm like chilling in the bathroom

>Lynn: not great but

She leaned back, exhaling shakily as the stall swam around her. Fuck. She was pretty sure that her fever was increasing as she leaned back over the toilet seat, holding her hair back with both hands as she gagged softly, opaque saliva falling from her lips. She couldn’t bring anything up still, despite the constant sloshing of her stomach being an ever-present reminder of how much there still was in there. When the wave of nausea finally passed, she had two new texts.

>Reed: >:o!

>Reed: youre in the new dorm right

>Lynn: whats up

>Reed: ok I know i’m just some rando you met today but if you wanna crash on my couch or smth its gotta be more comfy than the lounge at 4am

>Reed: i promise i’m not a serial killer tho

Lynn groaned as she stood up, limping out of the bathroom and ignoring the disgusted looks of girls at the sinks -- she’d been gagging in that stall for at least  twenty minutes -- only to find that some other couple had sat down on the couch she’d planned to sleep on. There were a few chairs, all hard wood, and she sat down in one of them as she wrote a response, trying hard to control her tears. She was just overemotional from fever, that was all. She hugged her stomach, rocking back and forth as she typed.

>Lynn: actually that would be great if that's ok w you

>Reed: great! ill be at yr dorm in like 15min, where should I meet you?

Lynn’s stomach lurched, and she ran out of the lounge again, falling to her knees for the fourth time that day. Just like every other time, she retched wetly, gagging and spitting wads of cloudy bile into the toilet, unable to bring up anything significant.

She managed to type out the word bathroom in-between heaves, and it seemed like no time had passed at all before there was a sharp knock on the door, then the creak of hinges opening.

“Lynn? You in there?” 

She could only groan, but managed to unlock the stall door and stumble towards Reed, who grabbed her arm immediately, supporting her. “Woah, you’re not lookin’ so hot.”

The two of them were getting some very dirty looks from the other occupants of the bathroom, so Lynn tried to stumble towards the door, unable to get very far without leaning on Reed. “Not... Not feeling so hot either,” she said, pressing her free hand to her stomach.

“No shit, you’re burning up.” Reed pressed a hand to Lynn’s forehead, pulling it back in mock shock. “My car’s just in the parking lot, do you think you can walk there?”

Lynn hummed, trying not to open her mouth. Reed let her lean against them as she stumbled down the hall. She braced herself for the chill of the cold November air as they walked outside, but with Reed’s arm around her, she barely felt the cold.

“I’m just down the street,” Reed said, guiding her to what was apparently their car, “but I figured you wouldn’t wanna walk.”

Lynn swallowed back bile. “At this point, I don’t even... I don’t even care if you’re a serial killer, I just wanna lie down.”

“I think we can make that work.” 

Holy shit, Reed was strong as hell, Lynn mused feverishly, leaning nearly all her weight on them as they transitioned her into the car with one fluid motion. They even buckled her seat belt for her, making some soft noise when she moaned in pain as the strap touched her stomach.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna head to urgent care?” Reed asked. “They might be better than the student health center, and you’re really not looking good.”

Lynn shook her head, a dizzying motion that took more energy than she had. “Nah... I just wanna rest.”

“If you say so.” There was that worried note in their voice again, and Lynn leaned her head against the seat as the car lurched into motion, and so did her stomach. “I think there’s some trash bags in the glove compartment if you need ‘em. I’ll try to drive safe, but this thing? Is kind of a beater. You should see what it’s like on ice, though.”

Lynn made a small noise of acknowledgment, wincing as they bumped over mounds of slush. Saliva pooled under her tongue, and she swallowed hard. Not here, she thought. God, please not in front of Reed. Her throat burned with acid, and she gripped her stomach tightly, one hand covering her mouth. Just as her tongue lifted with a strong gag, a plastic bag was shoved into her lap. Gratefully, she buried her head in it.

“You’re okay, just get it up,” she heard Reed say, and then, “Oh, god,” as hot, foamy bile splashed into the bag, followed by a series of gurgling burps. “You’re really not feeling well, huh?”

She shook her head miserably, spitting into the bag and eventually wiping away a thick strand of mucus on the edge of the plastic before twisting it shut in disgust. “God. No. My stomach hurts so bad.”

“Do you need to get out for a sec? Being in the car probably can’t help.”

“Maybe.” Her throat still felt tight, and she tried to force a burp as she fumbled with the car door, only to end up barely scrambling to undo her seatbelt in time as she retched again and again, mucus falling in a steaming pile in the snow. Stomach finally empty for now, she belched emptily, a cloud of condensation forming as she did so.

Lynn vaguely became aware that someone was rubbing her back, and when she turned, Reed was holding her steady. “Ready to go?” they asked.

Lynn scrubbed at her watering eyes. “Yeah, she said weakly as they helped her back into the car. “God, this must be so gross for you.”

Reed shrugged as they put the key in the ignition. “Eh. I’ve got a strong stomach. Not really easily grossed out, you know? Besides, you're sick, so it’s not like it’s your fault. Someone’s gotta help you”

---

She managed to make it to Reed’s apartment without vomiting, though they did have to pull over several times so that she could take deep breaths out of the open window. Their apartment was several flights up, and they’d grimaced before slinging an arm around her shoulders, supporting most of her weight without even asking. Lynn didn’t even bother to protest -- they practically carried her up the stairs, but all she could care about was the fact that they were warm against her freezing skin.

“Okay!” Reed said, fumbling with the keys. “It’s not much, but at least I have a couch.”

Their apartment was small and cramped. The door opened onto a living room of sorts, with two faded couches forming a L-shape across from a TV. A slightly torn rug sat underneath a coffee table piled high with books and takeout boxes, and Reed rushed to clear it off, leaving Lynn standing by the front door, weaving back and forth.

There was a wall with an entryway seperating what Lynn assumed to the the kitchen area to her right, with another door closer to the entryway. On the left wall, close to where the couch sat, was a second door that was partially open. From the mess inside, she could guess it was Reed’s bedroom.

“C’mon in,” Reed said, gesturing to the couch. “Um, sit down, maybe? You look like you’re gonna die. Do you have any -- God, your roommate really kicked you out with nothing, huh? I was gonna ask if you wanted to change into, like, pajamas or anything, but you don’t even have a coat on.”

“Um,” Lynn said, still hovering awkwardly. “Yeah. She really didn’t want me to infect her.”

“Cool, cool. She’s an asshole.”

“Um --”

“No worries, I probably have something that’ll fit you.” Lynn very much doubted that, given that Reed had a good foot on her. “Do you need anything else? Like, food, we should probably make sure that you eat at some point? And I think that I might have some fever reducers somewhere around here --”

Lynn’s stomach cramped harshly. “Um,” she interrupted them, a note of urgency in her voice. “Do you have a bathroom I can use?”

“’Course! It’s that door--” Reed pointed to the closed door near the entrance Lynn had noticed earlier. “-- right there. Um, do you need help?”

Her guts churned again, and she managed a wan grimace. “I think I’ll be okay.”

Much to Lynn’s relief, their bathroom was almost shockingly clean. Her stomach still felt sore and achy after she’d finished expelling its contents from the other end; her nausea was fading for now, but the tightness in her throat and gnawing feeling in her stomach told her that she was far from done with this illness. She stumbled out of the bathroom, rubbing her aching stomach and nearly tripped over a pile of clothes on the floor.

“Those are for you,” Reed called from somewhere in the depths of the apartment. “Try ‘em on!”

Lynn retreated back into the bathroom, yanking her shirt off. The sweatpants Reed had provided just fit if the drawstring was pulled all the way, and their hoodie was a very loose fit, but the fuzzy inside felt wonderful against her sore stomach.

She sank down onto the larger of the two couches, which Reed had lined with sheets and stacked blankets on while she was gone. She pulled one up to her shoulders as Reed emerged from the kitchen area, carrying a mug of something steaming in one hand and a thermometer in the other.

“Hey,” they said. “Do me a favor and open wide, ‘kay? You’re not looking too hot, and I wanna know how worried I should be.”

“’s just the flu,” Lynn said weakly, but allowed Reed to slip the thermometer under her tongue. It beeped an agonizing minute later, and Reed winced at the number.

“102.3. That’s... not good,” they said. “I think that you should really rethink urgent care.”

Lynn groaned. “’M fine, really. Just need to rest.”

“Okay,” Reed said. “That’s fine, but I’m gonna need you to drink something first, okay? We’re gonna need you to keep some fluids down if you don’t wanna land in the emergency room.”

“‘Kay.” Lynn accepted a sip of the mug that Reed pressed into her hands. It was some kind of green tea, and it actually tasted... pretty good? “Thanks,” she whispered, her throat sore from fever and vomiting.

“No prob, dude,” Reed said, taking the mug from her hands. “Get some rest, okay?”

Lynn nodded, already drifting off into sleep.

---

She was vaguely aware of being woken on and off through the next few hours, Reed coaxing her to sip ice water or take her temperature before letting her slip back into feverish dreams. When she finally fought her way back to consciousness, the room was dark. The digital clock glowing on the coffee table read 8pm. She’d texted Reed to get her at... what was it, 2?

Groggy, head spinning, Lynn sat up. She felt awful, overheated and sweaty. She could just make out the shape of Reed’s body around the corner at the kitchen table, the glow of their phone illuminating the outline of their face. As if on instinct, they turned to face her.

“Hey,” they said, scooting their chair back. “You okay if I turn some lights on?”

Lynn nodded, then, remembering that it was dark as shit, said, “Yeah, that���s fine.” 

“Cool.” They turned on a lamp beside the couch, sitting at the end, near her feet. “How’re ya feeling? Your fever is still pretty high, d’ya think you could keep down some soup?”

Food? Ugh. Lynn made a face, but Reed pressed on. “C’mon, you need something in your stomach. Like, not just water, but actual nutrition, or you’ll just get sicker.”

Her stomach felt vaguely queasy, but Lynn shrugged. “I’ll try.”

“Great! I’ll warm some up for you.”

She dozed as the microwave ran and then beeped, and then Reed helped her sit up against the pillows with the bowl of soup in her lap. Her stomach gurgled as she ate, but seemed to accept the first swallow, so she did her best. She’d managed about three-quarters of the bowl when her stomach gurgled ominously, and she set it down. 

“I don’t think I can eat anymore.”

“Okay, no problem,” Reed said. “Mind if I take your temperature again?”

Lynn shrugged noncommittally, and they whipped out the thermometer. She was glad when it beeped -- the whole time she was sitting up she’d been shaking with chills, and she quickly buried herself back under the blankets, swallowing a queasy burp.

They didn’t read out the temperature this time, just sighed. “If I leave you with some water, will you drink it? The most important thing right now is to keep hydrated.”

“Um. Sure.” Reed pushed forward a glass of water, and Lynn smiled shakily, but didn’t drink it. “I just don’t wanna puke again, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it. You must feel awful,” Reed said, and Lynn laughed hoarsely.

“That’s an understatement.”

“I get it. But you gotta drink something. You’ll feel worse if you don’t.”

Lynn hesitantly picked up the glass -- it felt too heavy in her shaking hand -- and cautiously took a small sip, and then another. To distract herself from the uneasy feeling in her belly, she asked, “Can I ask a personal question?”

“That depends... how personal are we talking? ‘Cause if we’re gonna get in there with the questions, you gotta buy me dinner first.” Reed wiggled their eyebrows, and Lynn felt a warmth that had nothing to do with fever run down her spine.

“Um. Why are you doing this?”

“What, talking to you? ‘Cause I’m bored, and there’s nothing on TV. I mean, if you want me to shut up, I can?”

“No! Like, taking care of a sick stranger you’ve never met. Like, gross sick.”

“Eh.” Reed shoved their hands in their pockets, looking away. “It’s what I would’ve wanted someone to do for me.”

There might have been a story there, but Reed looked a little down, so Lynn decided not to press. “Well. In that case, thank you. It’s appreciated.” Her stomach gurgled again, going from uneasy to actively nauseous in half a second. “Shit -” she gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth and throwing off the blankets.

Reed jumped up, maybe to help her, but she was already unsteadily standing, the cold air a shock to her system after staying under the blankets for so long. “Hmmmk!” she gagged, saliva flooding her mouth as she wobbled towards the bathroom as fast as her weak body would let her.

She didn’t make it.

Lynn was just in the threshold of the bathroom when her stomach lurched, squeezing as she heaved again, and she lost it, vomiting into her palm and all over the floor. The sink was closer than the toilet, so she lurched over to it, barely making it over the counter before undigested soup came flooding up her throat, forming a foaming mess in the basin. She heaved again, drawing in a ragged breath before she felt a large, calming hand on her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry!” she sobbed, tears running down her face. “I didn’t mean to -- I didn’t know I was gonna be sick, and I tried to get to the bathroom, I really tried --” 

“Hey,” Reed said. “Hey. Lynn. Dude. It’s okay. That was kind of my fault anyways.”

“It’s not! I puked all over your floor, and in your sink --” The liquid was slowly draining now, but chunks of undigested noodles and chicken and vegetables were clogging the drain. God, what had she done? "I’ll clean it up, I promise!”

“You don’t have to worry about that, I got it,” they said softly. “Don’t make yourself more upset, you’ll get --” They sighed a little as she burped over the basin again, bringing up a torrent of chunky liquid. “--Sick.”

“Sorry,” Lynn managed when she was done dry-heaving. All that would come up was airy burps.

“Again,” Reed said, “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you it’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have forced you to eat or drink when you weren’t ready for it, and I definitely should’ve given you a trash can or something.” They shrugged. “Nothing that can’t be cleaned, so. Lesson learned.”

Reed guided Lynn over to sit on the closed toilet seat. “Sit here for me while I clean this up, okay? Just let me know if you start feeling bad again.”

Lynn took in a shaky breath. “Okay.”

Her stomach was cramping hard again, and she wrapped both arms around it, hunched over. Through a haze of fever, she watched as Reed, wearing a pair of dish gloves, scrubbed the sink and mopped the floor. Then, once the bathroom smelled of soap and disinfectant, they wet a washcloth with warm water and crouched down so they were eye level with her.

“Hey. I’m gonna clean you up a bit, okay?” Lynn nodded miserably, sweaty hair sticking to her face. She felt awful, shaking with chills and fever alternately, head swimming.

Reed gently wiped her face with the cloth, then her arms and hands. They re-folded it and rinsed it again, wringing it out and draping it against the back of her neck. She nearly gasped when it touched her skin. They’d used cool water this time, and it felt wonderful. 

“There we go,” they said. “I bet you’re probably wanting a toothbrush or some mouthwash.” 

God, she did feel gross. “Yeah,” Lynn croaked. “That’d be nice.”

“Cool, okay, good. Just stay here for a sec while I go grab some from the closet, okay?”

“Where else would I go?” Lynn’s eyes grew heavy. Sure, she had other places to go, but for now, she was glad to be right here.

[kumeko]

Title: the act of living

A/N: For lynndyre, for a lotr exchange! I’m not happy about the first two pieces in this fic, but I think the rest came out decently enough. :/ I really liked the prompt of post-canon, of what comes after, and making it bitter but also hopeful.

…

…

…

…

i. Gondor

 Despite all the damage to it, Gondor stood strong. It had always done so; years of facing enemy after enemy had weathered it into a resilient place, capable of shaking off injury and keeping a united front. Its people were even more so, their faces as sturdy as the stone that made the city.

 This was a comforting thought when directed at their enemies. Less so when it was directed at himself. There were many ways Aragorn thought the people of Gondor would treat him but even the cool indifference of a stranger would have been preferred to the harsh front to an intruder. It was even more apparent when Aragorn rode through the streets, surveying the damage with Faramir and Pippin. As their horses trotted slowly down the winding streets, as they catalogued the various repairs they had to make, Aragorn could feel his people’s eyes on him. For the most part, their gaze was hard, their lips thin, jaw set. The occasional citizen would give him a tentative smile and wave, but the overwhelming feeling was this:

 Who are you to rule us?

A fair question, perhaps. It wasn’t like he’d grown up here, it wasn’t like they were expecting the king to return. It wasn’t fair to just push him forward as a king in the middle of a war and expect everything to be fine after. Not that Aragorn was sure what he was expecting; he had never wanted this position in the first place.

“It’s not that bad,” Pippin chirped. Seated in front of Aragorn, he glanced up at him. For a moment, Aragorn thought the hobbit had read his mind. “It’ll take a little muscle and spit, but we’ll clean it all up.”

 Ah, that made more sense. His friend had thought his dark mood was over the destruction. However clumsy it was, Aragorn was grateful for Pippin’s kindness and he smiled. “Certainly.”

 “The people of Gondor are not one to back away from a challenge,” Faramir said from his right. He sat straight on his horse and while there was still something ghostly about him, he looked proud. “We have weathered attacks before. This will be no different.”

 “Really?” Pippin furrowed his brows, disbelief on his face. “You guys have fought orcs and wraiths and all of that?”

 “Well, perhaps nothing that bad,” Faramir admitted with a chuckle.

 “Thought so.” Pippin snorted derisively. “No way anyone can just rebuild after all that.” He gestured at a pile of rubble nearby, soldiers and local citizens creating a chain as they shifted giant rocks to a wooden cart. “Not without a lot of help.”

 “Fortunately the elves are assisting,” Faramir answered, glancing at Aragorn with a wry smile. “They said to consider it a wedding present of sorts.”

 Aragorn’s eyes widened slightly. “Arwen.” He glanced at the clean up crew once more. Now that he was paying attention, he could see the odd elf in the group, examining the debris and finding the right rock to move next.  The folk regarded the elves warily but begrudging accepted the assistance. “How long have they been here?”

 “Over a week.” Faramir smiled wryly. “It was a little odd at first but the people have come around to it now.”

 “Have they?” Aragorn glanced at Pippin and thought of Boromir. Of Legolas and Gimli. The oddest of companions that were now the closest of friends. There were things that you could only learn by working next to someone, to watching them toil away with you. He tightened his grip on his reins, pulling his horse to a stop.

 “Huh?” Pippin thudded against his chest at the sudden stop. Bemused, he stared up. “See something?”

 “More of a realization.” Aragorn slipped off his mount. “I’ll go help out.”

 He was never the sort to watch from a distance anyways. Aragorn had gotten this far through hard work. This kingship would be no different.

    ii. Rohan

 “Wow.” Merry stared at the garlands strung up around the Meduseld, his eyes wide with wonder.

 “Unexpected, isn’t it?” Eowyn chuckled, amused by her companion’s amazement. To be perfectly honest, she had looked the same earlier. It had been too long since flowers lined the halls of her forefathers, since the cold grey had been washed over with warmth of a blaze and good company. The trifecta of loss, a poisonous influence, and war had left her home less than it ought to have been.

 Now, finally, it was returned to its former glory.  

 “Yeah, I didn’t think you guys even had flowers,” Merry chirped, examining a wreath on the wall. There was a long silence and then his ears burned a bright red as he realized what he’d said. Turning around, fidgeted nervously. “Not that that’s a bad thing—it looked very noble before—we just have a lot of flowers—”

 Eowyn laughed, cutting him off as he cycled through excuses. “No, no, it is understandable. We haven’t had flowers in here for a long time.”

 “Oh.” Feeling relieved, Merry smoothened down his shirt with a pleased smile. “It looks good.”

 “We’re celebrating our harvest and the end of the war, so I thought we could brighten the place.” Eowyn gestured at the torches that lit up every few metres, ensuring that no darkness pervaded her home. It felt a lot more like it did when she was younger, when her brother used to chase her through these halls and her uncle…

 She paused at the thought. He would have liked how it looked, praised her with his gentle smile and kind words.

 Eowyn wished she could have seen it. That he could have seen this. Loss, she found, sprung up in the most unexpected of places and every time it took her breath away.

 Unaware of her shifting emotions, Merry replied, “So this isn’t everyday? We have flowers everywhere at home, so it’s strange to find places without it.”

 He was smiling up at her, bright and unassuming, and Eowyn shook herself out of her thoughts. Her uncle wouldn’t want her to linger, the way he had lingered over her cousin’s death. The best way to honour him was to keep moving forward. Looking down, Eowyn asked “Is that so? I have never seen that many flowers.”

 “Well, not everywhere everywhere—definitely not on the toilets cause that’s weird but everywhere else.” Merry stroked his chin thoughtfully. “And maybe not on the paths. The proper ones, that is—the ones that we aren’t supposed to take are chock full of weeds.”

 “The ones that get you in trouble?” Eowyn teased, having heard plenty of stories about angry farmers and vegetables.

 “It’s only trouble if you get caught!” Merry retorted, crossing his arms. “And I almost never get caught.”

 “Hmm, I wonder about that.” Eowyn chuckled. Every description Merry gave of his homeland gave a warm impression. It sounded like place that would produce such wonderful hobbits, such wonderful heroes. “Perhaps I should see for myself?”

 Even Farmer Maggot sounded fun to meet. Especially since she wouldn’t be robbing him.

    iii. Mirkwood

“I did not expect you to come all the way here,” Thrandruil drawled, each word carefully articulated as though each one was a jab from one of his guard’s spears. Walking through a well-maintained path in Mirkwood, his gaze was ever upward, giving one the impression he was barely paying attention to his companion.

 Celeborn knew better than to fall for that. Thrandruil was always alert to his surroundings, however he might act, and it would take one wrong word, one false step to be barred from returning to the forest elves’ realm. “I heard the forest had cleared and thought it was a good time to visit.”

 That wasn’t a lie—the forest was brighter than it had been in centuries. The spiders were finished, their webs burned through, and starlight once more graced the elves as they frolicked in the night. Mirkwood was beautiful again.

 “It has,” Thranduil admitted with a regal nod of his head. His brow furrowed and scornfully he added, “Though it is the age of man, so who knows how long this shall last.”

 “So many elves have departed these days,” Celeborn sighed. “Lothlórien feels emptier these days, as does Rivendell.”

 “As expected. They were never tied to the land like we are,” Thrandruil spit out, contemptuous. “I am only surprised they didn’t leave earlier.”

 He should have expected that remark. Despite the time that had passed, Thrandruil’s pride was infamous and it seemed nothing could change that. “You aren’t going to answer the call?”

 “One day, maybe.” Thrandriul shrugged dismissively. “Perhaps when my son is tired of playing with dwarves and the sea. Until then, this is my kingdom and I will not abandon it while it still stands.”

 “As expected.” Celeborn chuckled. “Galadriel is also considering leaving.”

 “And you?” Thrandruil looked at him now, his brow raised curiously. “What will you do?”

 “I will join her.” Celeborn clasped his hands behind him, looking up at the starlight through the trees. It glinted off nearby goblets and here still the sound laughter and life existed. “But not for some time. Lothlórien has lost its shine and diminished. Rivendell is a tomb.” He glanced at Thrandruil. “Is there room for another here?”

 Thrandruil smiled.

    iv. Rivendell

“You look worn, old friend.” Elrond didn’t look up as Gandalf stood next to him. Despite the physical changes underwent, his voice remained ever the same, as did the comfort in his presence. “What troubles you?”

 “Things that are beyond my control.” Elrond sighed. Standing on a terrace, he watched from a distance as his daughter read a book on a bench. How much longer would he be able to witness that sight? How much longer could he just simply open his mouth and call her?

 “Ah.” Gandalf studied her for a long moment before shaking his head. “You made your choice long ago. And though you do not want to admit it, so had she.”

 “I should have realized it the moment they met.” Elrond frowned, closing his eyes. “I had hoped otherwise. Her path will be a painful one, a long one, and there will be no one to comfort her in the end.”

 “You are not staying then?” Gandalf asked, his brow raised.

 “No, I do not think I can bear to see her hair grow white. And I do not want my sons to change their mind because of their love for the Dúnedain. Besides, already the world is changing.” Elrond smiled wistfully. “There is no room for our kind anymore. It is better to accept it and leave now.” Before their images of the world was tarnished, before he could see the old places wrought with ruin. He had seen what man made, what man could do, and while there were great creations, there were more often than not ruinous. Only the dwarves could match them for greed.

 “Then fret not.” Gandalf squeezed his shoulder. “There are others here to comfort her. Thrandruil—” Elrond snorted. “—I know you do not like him, but he and Celeborn will still be here when her time comes. She will not go alone, forgotten and unloved.”

 Elrond glanced at Gandalf. “And you?”

 “Perhaps.” Gandalf only smiled mysteriously. “I cannot say where I will be or not in the years to come.”

 “Father!” Before Elrond could question him further, Arwen waved to him, a smile on her face.

 There would be plenty of time to interrogate a dodgy wizard in the future. For now, he wanted to soak in every moment with Arwen he could. There would be so few of them and his years too long after.

    v. Shire

It was strange how empty the Baggins’ home was. Samwise had taken care of it for years and had helped his father for it even longer. It had been customary to find white-haired Bilbo in the gardens, writing the next page of his manuscript. Or Frodo puttering about, laughing about the latest prank Merry and Pippin had pulled.

 Now the gardens ran wild, left unattended during their mission. That was something Sam could fix. Something he would fix.

 Something he couldn’t do anything about was how silent the rooms inside were. No fire crackled in the hearth, inviting one to rest their feet and stay a spell. There was no welcoming greeting when the door opened, no soft swear from trying to open a too tight jar of walnuts. Just complete and utter silence.

 Sam stood at the foyer, not sure if he should go further in or not. It had been one thing when Frodo had left him the key to the place, another thing entirely to use it. He could just sell it but Frodo’s history, his own history was too deeply tied to it.

 What to do?

 What to do?

 Sam took a deep breath. The air smelled musty from disuse. Frodo wasn’t here anymore. He was across the sea with the elves. A place Sam could go, if he wanted to. Another decision he wasn’t ready to make. Pulling out the key, he quickly slipped out of the hole and locked it behind him.

 Tomorrow. Tomorrow he’d figure out what he wanted to do with this place. To do with himself.

 Today Rosie was at the pub and Merry and Pippin would be back from their travels and he could just soak in the act of living.

[vexedtonightmares]

last dance (elu ballet au) chapter sept

Lucas is in his final year at the Paris Opera Ballet School and he’ll be damned if he lets his former friend-turned-rival Eliott steal the lead role in their production of Swan Lake.

aka- lucas and eliott are rivals who are forced to room together for their final year of ballet school before they try to enter the company. we can all see where this is going.  

i. ii. iii. iv. v. vi. vii.

ao3

Dimanche 17:52 

Neither of them had spoken about the night before. Lucas had awoken on his bed, note laid on the pillow beside him that read: Thanks for the homework help, I’ll be in the studio all day catching up but don’t forget to eat - Eliott. He wondered if Eliott had placed him on his bed, or if he’d unknowingly done so himself at some point during the night. There was a flutter in his stomach at the thought of Eliott laying him down on his bed, a flutter he chalked up to embarrassment.

Lucas had his appointment with the nurse to track his eating and sleeping habits earlier that morning, and she’d tasked him to complete the same form he filled out the week prior for the next month to help him start to stay on track. Both of them were pleasantly surprised by the amount of sleep he’d gotten, but she was still wary of his food intake. He tried not to be annoyed with her concerns, but it was hard not to be when he still didn’t think anything was really wrong. 

He had been given the go ahead to start booking extra studio time again, but she urged him to limit it so he wouldn’t overwork himself again. Surprisingly, he hadn’t been too upset about the condition, accepting it with ease. If he could perform the way he had in class for the whole week he wasn’t allowed extra practice time, maybe he didn’t need as much as he’d thought. 

A pit grew in his stomach when he remembered that he wouldn’t be the Prince during practices anymore now that Eliott was feeling better. While he was actually a bit excited to partner with Imane again, nothing compared to dancing the role he’d always dreamed of in the way he’d always dreamed of dancing it. 

There was a knock on the door and Lucas frowned up from where he’d been scrolling through his phone on the couch. Most of his friends would have texted him first, or just barged in. He stood up with a small sigh and made his way over to open the door, blinking in surprise when he did.

“Uh, what are you all doing here?” he asked Imane, Sofiane, and Idriss. Idriss didn’t even go there. Imane pushed through without so much as a hello, opening up his fridge and searching through it. 

Sofiane gaze Lucas a tentative smile as he followed her, Idriss following him. Lucas closed the door slowly, turning to face the three of them, question in his eyes. “Hey, Lucas, we’re here because…” he prompted, and Sofiane was the one who answered. 

“Eliott told us to come over and make dinner together. Isn’t he here?” he asked, looking towards Eliott’s closed door. 

“No…”

“Oh,” Sofiane said, looking a bit uncomfortable. It wasn’t like they weren’t friends, but Sofiane and Eliott were pretty close, and everyone knew how Lucas felt about Eliott. God knows all the things Eliott had probably said about Lucas over the years too. 

But Eliott wasn’t there, and Lucas really didn’t have a problem with Sofiane when it came down to it, so he just shrugged to himself and hopped up to help them with whatever they were doing. Idriss gave him a nod of acknowledgement, nothing more or less. Lucas appreciated it all the same. They’d met a few times in the past but Idriss was, again, one of Eliott’s friends, so they never really had a reason to hang out. He’d never in a million years say it out loud, but he’d actually had a crush on Idriss a few years back. 

“So what are we making?” Lucas asked, taking up his place next to Imane. She looked at him a bit weirdly, as if she was wondering why he hadn’t kicked them out or used the time to complain about Eliott. 

She nodded down to the recipe she’d laid on the table. “It’s a Morroccan dish, the recipe is from Sofiane’s mother.”

The recipe confused him, but the picture at the top looked delicious, so he nodded along. “Right on. What can I do?”

“Ok, who are you and what did you do with Lucas Lallemant?” she asked, cutting up some vegetables. “You’re never this agreeable.”

He shrugged. He didn’t really know why he was being so agreeable either. For some reason he’d just been in a good mood that day. “Got a good night’s sleep, I guess,” he said by way of explanation, “Take it while it lasts.”

“Oh, I intend to.” She handed him a peeler and some carrots. “Do you know how to peel carrots?”

“Of course,” he scoffed. He was quite a good cook when he wanted to be, thank you very much. Sofiane smirked and leaned over to Lucas. “She’s just making you do that because she can’t peel a carrot to save her life,” he whispered conspiratorially, but Imane still heard him. 

“Shut up!” She sounded offended, but her grin gave her away. Lucas always noticed that she smiled more when Sofiane was around, he’d definitely called her out on it a few times, but she never confirmed or denied whether she had feelings for him. It was quite obvious he had feelings for her— he couldn’t take his eyes off her for a moment— and Lucas found himself smiling. Whatever happened between them, Lucas was hoping for the best. 

“So, uh, Idriss,” Lucas began, trying desperately to include Idriss in conversation. Idriss was the only one not helping prepare the meal, sitting at the counter on his phone. “Why are you here?”

Idriss turned off his phone and raised his eyebrows. Lucas’ face reddened, realizing he’d probably come off a bit rude. “I didn’t mean—” he backtracked, Idriss cutting him off with a low laugh.

“It’s ok, Lucas, I understood what you meant.” Yeah, Idriss was still very handsome. If he wasn’t completely off limits, Lucas might have fantasized a little bit about him. Of course, he was nowhere near as beautiful as— no. Lucas stopped himself before he could finish the thought, turning his attention back to Idriss. Handsome Idriss. “I’m here because it was this, or have our parents attack me once again for not being a success like perfect Imane over here.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and he grinned in return, despite the harshness of his words. Having a functional family was an odd thing indeed. Lucas envied it more than he could articulate. How Idriss could talk so casually of his parents “attacking” him, even though they weren’t throwing him to the ground so hard his ribs cracked inside his chest.

His pulse quickened as the thoughts invaded his mind, memories flashing faster than he could process. His father’s hand gripping his wrist so hard it nearly snapped, going to school with bruises he couldn’t hide and getting the reputation of the ‘clumsy’ kid when he knew he was anything but, Eliott’s brows furrowed in concern when he started flinching every time Eliott came close but neither of them ever addressing it. 

One of their pots clanged on the stove and Lucas nearly jumped out of his skin, accidentally cutting his hand with the peeler in the process. “Fuck,” he hissed, lifting his hand to see the damage. 

Imane was looking at him with concern. “Lucas, are you ok?”

No. “Yeah, sorry, zoned out for a second. I’m going to grab a bandage from the bathroom, I’ll be back in a minute.”

He hurried away without another word, shutting the bathroom door behind him and sinking to the floor. His thoughts were spiraling and he did everything he could to make them stop. He remembered a technique his mother had told him years ago, to distract him from the physical pain and the emotions that came with it. A way to ground himself. Three, three, three. Three things he could see, three things he could hear, three things he could feel. 

He saw the white tile of the bathroom floor zigzagging in its diamond pattern, he saw a toothbrush on the counter, Eliott’s from the look of it, he must have forgotten to put it back in its container that morning, and he saw their shower curtain detailed with what looked like small raindrops. 

He could hear the air conditioning whirring in the back of his mind, he could hear his own breathing, steadying slightly as he noticed it, and he could hear his friend’s voices, probably talking about him. 

He could feel the door pressed against his back, he could feel a small tingling in his hand from where the peeler had sliced a small cut, not too deep, but deep enough, and he could feel his eyelashes pressing down onto his cheekbones as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

Slowly, he opened them, feeling more present in his body. He glanced at the cut, noticing it was bleeding a bit more than he’d thought, but not so much a bandage wouldn’t suffice. He rummaged through their drawers until he found a package of bandages, washing his hand before folding one around the cut with much more ease than he’d expected. 

He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror when he finished, eyes raking over his figure from his head to where the mirror cut off at his waist. He looked a bit like he’d seen a ghost, and in some ways he had, so he splashed some water on his face to try to counteract it. 

When he emerged back into the living area, Imane, Sofiane, and Idriss went quiet immediately, which confirmed his earlier assumption that they’d been talking about him. Maybe he would have cared any other day, but he didn’t have the energy to care at that moment.

“Sorry about that,” he said, forcing a smile, “Guess I can’t peel carrots after all.”

Imane gave him a small grin, her eyes asking if he was all right. He appreciated her concern, and tried to convey that to her, but he also reassured her that he was fine with his eyes. She looked reluctant, but let it go. Sofiane pretended to sigh dramatically. “Looks like I have to do everything around here,” he said, picking up the peeler and continuing where Lucas had left off. 

For the most part, Lucas sat at the counter with Idriss, watching while Sofiane and Imane worked their magic in the kitchen. He and Idriss sent each other sly, or maybe not so sly given the glares received from Imane, glances every now and again, noticing how Sofiane and Imane worked so seamlessly together, anticipating each other’s needs before they needed them. It was a dance of its own, one Lucas was endlessly entertained by in the best way possible. 

The door opened with a small creak and the four of them turned to look at the intruder, who ended up not being an intruder at all. Eliott looked slightly shocked to see the four of them there, but his shock was quickly replaced by a bright smile. “Oh, hey, you’re here early!” 

Imane frowned, looking at the clock on the microwave. “You said to be here at 18h on the dot. We showed up on time, you’re the one strolling in an hour late.”

“I’m pretty sure I said 19h,” Eliott said adamantly. 

“Pretty sure you didn’t,” Imane shot back, raising her eyebrows. Sofiane, Idriss, and Lucas looked on in confusion as Imane stared directly into Eliott’s eyes clearly gleaning whatever information she wanted from them and causing Eliott to blush. 

He coughed and hid his face. “I’m going to shower quickly, then I’ll be ready to eat.”

“Who said you get to eat with us when we did all the work?” Idriss teased, causing Imane to scoff. 

“Please, you did less than Eliott,” she laughed, and he couldn’t argue. Eliott disappeared into his bedroom, coming out a moment later with clean clothes before disappearing back into the bathroom. Lucas’ eyes followed him the whole way, and it didn’t go unnoticed. Sofiane narrowed his eyes when Lucas turned back around, and Lucas looked away innocently. He was only watching Eliott because he hated him, of course. 

The four of them made idle conversation while Sofiane and Imane finished cooking, the dish coming together quite masterfully. It smelled so delicious that Lucas really didn’t want to wait for Eliott to eat. 

Finally, though, Eliott emerged from the bathroom, wet hair somehow still defying gravity. He was just wearing a hoodie and sweatpants but he still made Lucas feel a bit inadequate. 

There wasn’t enough room for all of them at the kitchen counter, so they moved into the living room, Eliott, Lucas, and Idriss on the couch and Sofiane and Imane on one of their chairs and beanbags, respectively. Lucas tried to ignore the fact that Eliott was sandwiched between him and Idriss, thigh close to pressing against Lucas’. 

Imane was looking at Lucas weirdly, but he ignored her as well, instead turning all his focus to his food. It was every bit as delicious as he’d expected it to be, and he couldn’t help but be impressed by Sofiane and Imane’s cooking skills. 

“Do you like it?” Eliott asked him conversationally and he nodded vigorously, throwing a thumbs up Imane’s way. She smiled bashfully at his response, playing at off like he hadn’t complimented her at all. 

“It’s really great,” he said once his mouth wasn’t full. “The carrots really pull it together nicely,” he added with a small laugh. She rolled her eyes with a quiet laugh and Sofiane joined in a moment later. 

Eliott’s eyes flicked between the two of them. “Am I missing something?”

“Just how bad your roommate is at peeling carrots,” Idriss said with a shrug. 

Lucas narrowed his eyes. “I am not. I just zoned out for a minute. I’m still better than Imane.”

Sofiane burst into laughter but Imane did not look amused, pointing her fork at him. “I’m coming for you Lallemant, I hope you know that. Next time I make dinner for you, you’d better watch out for poison.”

“Oh, please, you’d never get rid of me. You love me too much as a partner.” He shot her a toothy grin that she ignored. 

“Eh, you’re alright,” she said, making him smile wider. 

Idriss whistled. “Wow, Lucas, that might be the greatest compliment I’ve ever heard her give anyone.”

She threw one of the pillows on her chair at her brother, hitting him square in the face. Lucas raised his hand to cover his mouth as he laughed and Eliott’s eyes zeroed in on it, changing from amused to worried. He set his plate in his lap and grabbed Lucas’ hand, fingers brushing his bandage gently. “What happened?”

“Carrot peeler accident,” Lucas said gravely. He smiled a bit at how concerned Eliott still looked, pulling his hand away and adding, “It’s barely a cut, like I said, I just got distracted.”

“Ok,” Eliott said hesitantly. 

“Ok,” Lucas mimicked, making Eliott smile again. They smiled at each other for a moment before Imane cleared her throat and Lucas looked away quickly, not daring to meet her eyes. As he lifted his fork to his mouth as a way to avoid conversation or confrontation, he realized for the first time that night that he’d participated in and ate the meal without thinking about it. He hadn’t hesitated at all. The idea scared him as much as it made him a bit proud. It was a strange thing, to know that what he had been doing was wrong but to also so thoroughly convince himself that what was right was just as wrong. 

Eliott’s thigh brushed his and Lucas felt it as dramatically as if Eliott had laid his head down in Lucas’ lap. Eliott didn’t appear to have noticed, in the middle of telling Idriss some story about their classes, but it was all Lucas could notice. He retreated back into his mind, his mother’s voice in his head telling him three, three, three. 

He saw Eliott’s thigh pressed against his, he saw Eliott’s smile as he spoke to Idriss, he saw the way Eliott’s sweatshirt had shifted, revealing a bit of his collarbone. He heard Eliott’s voice, light and melodic, he heard the light friction of their legs touching, and he heard the scratching of Eliott’s fork on his bowl as he spoke. He felt his own fork, gripped tightly in his hand, he felt his heart stop beating in his chest for a moment too long, and he felt Eliott, not just where their legs touched, but everywhere. 

Fuck. 

Lundi 13:03

Lucas entered the classroom for Swan Lake rehearsals with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Now that Eliott was back, he was back to being understudy. Manon shot him a sad look as they parted ways, off to their respective partners. He loved Imane as a partner and he was sure that she felt the same about Eliott, but the two of them had really missed dancing together and had loved every minute of it the week before. 

The director took Eliott aside for a minute before class started and Lucas could almost feel Eliott tense up. Maybe he was in trouble for his absences the week prior after all. Lucas couldn’t hear what the director was saying but, judging by Eliott’s body language, it was a lecture Lucas was very glad he wasn’t a part of.

Eliott looked paler than normal as he made his way back over to Manon, and Lucas could have sworn he saw his hands shaking slightly. A week ago the sight would have made him undeniably happy, but now he was concerned. Stop it, he told himself, Eliott is still enemy number one. This was just what he did, he made himself appear likeable and perfect, and then he ruined you. Lucas wouldn’t be ruined again. 

The practice was weird, to say the least. The director constantly complimented Lucas, having him demonstrate and partner with Manon from time to time, much to Lucas’ surprise. He’d assumed that with Eliott back he’d be back to square one. It felt great, actually, to finally be seen as more than just the boy in Eliott’s shadow. Maybe he was starting to cast a shadow of his own. 

After practices were over for the day, Lucas and Eliott made dinner. Well, more accurately, Lucas made dinner and Eliott hovered, trying to be helpful. They still hadn’t talked about what had happened Saturday night, but when Lucas went into his room to eat and Eliott joined him, he didn’t say anything. Lucas wrote down what he ate and handed the paper to Eliott to confirm, Eliott looking a bit surprised at the gesture at first, but he smiled as he read it, giving Lucas a small thumbs up. 

Lucas felt a surge of pride, and a surge of disgust. He wasn’t sure which one would win out, but knew that one would, eventually. 

Mardi 19:14

Lucas was in Eliott’s bedroom that night, lying on his back on the floor. The room was much tidier than the last time Lucas had been in there, and Eliott looked a million times better than he had at that time as well. 

Neither of them had said anything about it again when Lucas showed up under the guise of homework help. Both of them knew Lucas wasn’t doing his homework that early in the week and that he didn’t actually care about the themes and characterization in Albert Camus’ The Stranger, but, again, they didn’t mention that fact aloud. 

Right now, though, he wasn’t even pretending to do his work, just staring straight at the lightbulb on the ceiling and twirling his pencil from hand to hand. He didn’t know what Eliott was doing, and was slightly startled when Eliott laid down next to him. He shifted his head and found Eliott already looking at him, grinning. 

Lucas huffed out a small laugh. “Yes?”

Eliott’s smile dropped as he wrinkled his face up in confusion. “What?”

“Did you need something?” Lucas giggled, blaming his laughter on his position. Lying on your back made you laugh more, there was probably, like, studies on it or something. 

“No,” Eliott said simply, corner of his mouth tilting up into a small, almost intimate smile, “You just looked so comfortable I had to see what I was missing.”

“Eh, not the most comfortable spot in the world, but it’ll do,” Lucas shrugged. Eliott laughed softly, still looking at Lucas with a sense of wonder. Some part of it made Lucas want to hide, feeling like he was undeserving of being looked at like that. Plus, wasn’t Eliott supposed to hate him? He didn’t look like he hated him right now, though. Lucas wasn’t too sure if he still hated Eliott either. 

“Do you want to play twenty questions?” Eliott asked suddenly. 

Lucas raised his eyebrows. “Isn’t that a middle school game?”

“Well, we never got the typical middle school experience, so there’s a lot we missed out on.” Was it a great excuse? No. But was Lucas looking for a great excuse? Also no. 

“Ok,” he agreed, turning his face back up to the ceiling, “Do you want to go first?”

“Sure,” Eliott said, as if he hadn’t been the one to suggest the game in the first place. Lucas peeked at his face out of the corner of his eyes, smiling a bit at the sight of Eliott’s eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “Number one… what’s your favorite color?”

“Seriously? All that concentrating and that’s what you came up with?” Lucas burst out laughing. 

Eliott nudged his shoulder. “Don’t laugh! We’ve gotta start somewhere, right?”

Yes, Lucas supposed they did. “Blue,” he answered, realizing as he spoke that it wasn’t just blue. It was a light blue gray, changing color depending on the light. The same color reflected in the eyes of the boy beside him. He couldn’t very well say that aloud, so he just said blue. “What about you?”

“Blue,” Eliott repeated, “But not just any blue. My favorite color is the kind of blue that can fit whole galaxies inside it, deep as the ocean but so bright and full of life when the sun hits it at the right angle.”

Ok, wow. Yeah, Lucas never really put that much thought into colors he enjoyed. “Seems like that color might be a bit hard to come by,” Lucas teased, turning his head back to face Eliott. 

Eliott stared him directly in the eye and said, “Maybe for some people. I see it everyday.” 

Lucas was flustered again, but he didn’t entirely know why. To avoid responding to what Eliott had just said, he changed the subject. “It’s your turn again.”

“Um… what’s your favorite constellation?” Eliott asked, looking very interested to know Lucas’ answer. Lucas didn’t really have one, but he didn’t want to let Eliott down, so he just said, “Cassiopeia.” It was the only one he knew, other than the big and little dipper. 

They kept on that pace for a while, exchanging small facts about themselves without a second thought, learning things most people probably didn’t know, but only because they’d never asked. They were down to their last few questions, coming off a long laughing fit when Lucas had asked Eliott the most embarrassing thing he’d ever done. Eliott had warned him to never repeat the story, and he swore he wouldn’t, but he couldn’t stop laughing regardless.

“Why do you hate me?” Eliott asked, and Lucas immediately sobered. He should have known this whole thing was a ruse, that Eliott was going to ask him that. He turned his head away, smile fading from his face completely. 

Eliott was waiting for an answer, but Lucas didn’t really want to give him one. If Eliott still didn’t know why their friendship had ended, why Lucas had held a grudge for so long, they could never really go back to being friends again, no matter what Lucas had accidentally deluded himself into believing. “You really don’t get it, do you?” Lucas asked. 

“I don’t.”

Lucas closed his eyes and bit his bottom lip so hard he almost tasted blood. “I guess you have your answer then.”

“Lucas—”

“Stop.” He really didn’t want to go into this. He couldn’t make Eliott be sorry for something he didn’t realize he had to apologize for, and he didn’t want Eliott to feel like he had to. Lucas was past the point of wanting an apology, but some acknowledgement would be nice. Instead, Eliott still made it seem like it was Lucas’ fault their friendship had ended, as if he’d never wanted them to grow apart. Well, guess what? Friendships were a two way street. Even if Lucas was the one who’d pulled away at the end, Eliott hadn’t even tried to hold on or to make amends. “My turn,” he said, still not opening his eyes. He didn’t know why he hadn’t already stormed out of the room.

Eliott didn’t respond, which Lucas took as a go ahead. “Are you still in love with Lucille?” 

It wasn’t the question he’d meant to ask, and it certainly wasn’t any of his business. He opened his eyes warily and found Eliott lying completely still, face looking like he’d been frozen by the eyes of Medusa. “No,” he said finally, and left it at that. Lucas didn’t push further. “Have you ever been in love?” Eliott asked.

“I don’t think so,” he said honestly. 

“You don’t think so?”

Lucas shrugged. “I don’t know what love feels like.” It was a sad thing to admit and he immediately regretted saying it. 

Eliott didn’t say anything about it, though. He simply sighed and said, “You’ll know it when you feel it.”

“So you’ve been in love, obviously,” Lucas added, trying to take the attention off himself. “How many times?”

“Only twice, well, one and a half I guess you could say,” Eliott said. “Lucille was there, and she was great, but I was only ever able to give her half my heart. The other half has always belonged to someone else. I don’t know if they’ll ever love me the same way, but I think they’ll be it for me. I can’t imagine moving on from them.” 

He hadn’t realized Eliott had ever had a relationship with anyone other than Lucille. He hadn’t realized that probably meant Eliott was in a relationship right now, and that he intended to be with this person forever. It wasn’t his turn, so he couldn’t ask any more, but he desperately wanted to. “Why haven’t you ever been in a relationship?” Eliott asked him. 

Lucas shifted uncomfortably. “I’ve never really had time for it, I guess. I don’t want anything or anyone to stand in the way of my ballet.”

“But what if they could support you, not hinder you?”

Lucas shrugged. “If you find that person, let me know.”

Eliott looked like he wanted to say more, but it was Lucas’ turn to ask a question. He still wanted to know more about the girl Eliott was in love with, unsure why he wanted to know so badly. “Who… is your ideal girl? Looks, personality, et cetera…” 

Eliott flushed bright red, coughing in surprise. “Um… I don’t know…” he stammered nervously.

“Oh come on, of course you do, you just waxed poetic about her for like ten minutes,” Lucas goaded. 

“That’s an exaggeration, but fine. Um, shorter than me, perfect hair, amazing at practically everything they do but they don’t know it, a bit of a dick sometimes, not going to lie, but when they smile at me it makes it all worth it.”

“Wow. She sounds… cool?” Lucas was a bit caught off guard by the answer, more so by the fact that Eliott had looked like he wanted to say so much more.

“Oh yeah, that too,” Eliott added, “She does not necessarily have to be a she.”

Lucas blinked in shock. Never in a million years would he have thought… was Eliott saying what Lucas thought he was saying? “Oh,” he said lamely. 

“Is that a problem? Aren’t you gay?” Eliott asked confusedly. 

“No, no, not a problem, of course not. I’m just… surprised, is all.” 

Eliott smiled. “Well, I’m full of surprises. And I like people who are surprising.”

Lucas rolled his eyes, smiling in return. Not necessarily a girl, huh. Lucas didn’t know why, but the revelation made his heart quicken in his chest. It shouldn’t have, he hadn’t felt the same way when Arthur said that he was bi, or when Alexia had said the same, but for some reason knowing that Eliott wasn’t straight felt different to him. 

“Arthur is bi,” he blurted needlessly. 

Eliott nodded his head slowly, with a teasing smile. “I know. We roomed together for about nine years.”

“Oh, right.”

“I’m pan,” Eliott continued, “In case you wanted to know.”

“That’s cool.” Lucas didn’t really know what else to say. It was cool, he supposed, cool as anything else. Lucas looked back at Eliott’s gaze flicking to his lips unconsciously. He turned his head back to the ceiling immediately, but he didn’t know if Eliott had noticed his glance or not. Eliott’s hand brushed his accidentally where they were positioned so close together on the floor. 

Lucas sat up abruptly. “It’s getting late, I should go to bed.” Was it just him or did Eliott seem disappointed?

“Ok,” Eliott said, coming up to rest on his elbows, “Goodnight.”

“Night.” Lucas left the room faster than the pace of his beating heart. What the fuck was wrong with him? You hate Eliott, he reminded himself, No matter what he says, he still won’t acknowledge all the things he’s done that have given you reason to hate him, so don’t forget that. 

He wouldn’t forget, he couldn’t afford to. 

               Mercredi 21:56

Lucas was sitting on his bed, knees pulled up to his chest to make room for Eliott, who was laying at the foot of the bed. Eliott was reading some book that hadn’t even been assigned and Lucas was at a loss, wondering how he found the time or motivation for it. Lucas was covertly watching him read, watching the way expressions flitted across his face with each line he read. 

His phone buzzed and Eliott looked up at the sound, nearly catching Lucas staring. He held up his phone and Eliott nodded, going back to reading his book. Lucas checked his phone, wondering why it was suddenly vibrating with what felt like hundreds of messages per second.

GROUP CREATED: le gang

Arthur: I hear there’s another party this weekend that m. savory has neglected to inform us of

Yann: The shame, the shame

Basile: What?! There is not!

Arthur: Oh, really? Because the text I just got from Alexia seems to suggest otherwise

Basile: I swear!

Arthur Broussard sent a photo

Arthur: What do you have to say about that, Judas

Basile: I didn’t know about it! She hasn’t said anything to me yet

Yann: Yet, he says, as if she was ever going to tell him in the first place

Basile: This is cyberbullying, I’ll have you know

Arthur Broussard has changed the group name to “CYBERBULLIES ANONYMOUS”

Basile: Fuck you

Arthur: :))

Yann: Let’s get back on track tho

Yann: Real question is, are we pregaming?

Arthur: Duh

Yann: Where tho?

Arthur: Idk maybe ask the girls?

Yann: Should I make a separate group?

Arthur: Nah, just tell Lulu to ask Manon or Imane

Basile: Lol yeah, Imane’s gonna host a pregame alright

Arthur: I didn’t say she would host one, you utter buffoon, but Imane would probably know if one of the other girls was going to

Basile: Oh yeah… 

Arthur: Luluuuuuuu, I know you’ve been reading these

Yann: Lulu join the partyyyyy

Basile: Luuuuuluuuuuuuu

Lucas: Jesus, calm down, I only just caught up you guys text way too fast

Lucas: I’m not sure I’m feeling up for a party, ask the girls yourselves

Arthur: Lulu come on, you always say this and then you always have fun

Lucas: I didn’t have fun at the last party

Yann: The last party happened the same night casting went out, you never wanted to have fun that night 

Basile: This party will be way more fun anyway!

Arthur: Says the one who didn’t even know about the party until like a minute ago

Basile: Dude, I’m trying to get Lucas to come with us

Lucas: Ughhhhhhhhhhh

Yann: Come on, bro, we haven’t done anything in two weeks

Arthur: Speak for yourselves 

Yann: We haven’t ALL done something in two weeks

Lucas: Do you know where it is and who all is going? I don’t want to be surrounded by a bunch of kids from Baz’s school all night

Lucas: No offense Baz

Basile: None taken, we suck

Yann: Lol

Arthur: Not sure… Alexia said her ex told her about it, and her ex is super cool, so it’ll probably be somewhere fun

Arthur: Can you talk to the girls though? See if they’re going/ want to pregame?

Lucas: I don’t see why none of you can talk to them

Arthur: Dude, you and Manon are like siblings and Imane likes you for some odd reason, you’ve got an in

Lucas: You and Alexia are super close???

Arthur: Yeah, and she told me about the party

Lucas: Ugh, fine, wahetever, I will

Lucas: *whatever

Lucas: Ducking autocorrect

Lucas: FUCKING I SWEAR TO GOD

Basile Savory has changed the group name to “duck squad”

Arthur Broussard has changed the group name to “Baz is an idiot”

Basile: :((

Arthur: ;))

Yann: Does this mean you’re in, Lulu?

Lucas: Yeah, fine whatever

Arthur: YEE YEE

Basile: Helllllllll yeah

Yann: *party guns*

Arthur: *kill bill sirens*

Basile: *drops to the floor*

Arthur: *unsheathes sword*  

Yann: *hides in the corner*

Lucas: *hates you all*

Arthur: *beheads Lucas with my sword*

Lucas: *exits the chat*

Lucas Lallemant has left the group “Baz is an idiot”

Yann Cazas has added Lucas Lallemant to the group “Baz is an idiot”

Lucas: How am I supposed to text Manon if you guys are pestering me here?

Arthur: Multitask

Lucas: …

Lucas: Can you feel that?

Lucas: That’s me rolling my eyes so hard I go blind

Lucas: Is Sofiane invited? Do you think he’d want to pregame too? 

Arthur: If he is he’s probably pregame with Eliott and Idriss and Alex

Lucas: We wouldn’t all go together?

Yann: Um, hello, you can’t stand Eliott?? None of us want to deal with that

Arthur: Yeah, Sofiane and Eliott are a package deal lol

Lucas: Jeez, sorry, I just didn’t know if Sofiane would want to hang out with Imane

Lucas: I’m aware that I hate Eliott

Arthur: Oh as long as YOU’RE aware… 

Lucas: Ha ha

Lucas: Excuse me for trying to be civil for a night

Arthur: If you haven’t done it in seven years why would you start now?

Lucas: For Imane, she’s the only person at this school I like ;)

Yann: :(

Arthur: :(

Basile: :(

Arthur: Stfu Baz you don’t even go here

Basile: It still hurts 

Lucas: Ok, I’m leaving for real now because you’re all distracting but I’ll talk to Manon and Imane and let you know

Arthur: DON’T GO

Yann: COME BACK LULU

Basile Savory has changed the group name to “rip Lucas Lallemant :(“

Lucas: You all suck

Lucas Lallemant has left the group “rip Lucas Lallemant :(”

Eliott looked up from his book, catching sight of Lucas’ exasperated grin. “Interesting conversation?”

“No, just the boys asking me to ask the girls if they want to pregame for a party on Saturday.” Lucas sighed and leaned back onto his pillows. 

“Oh yeah, Alexia texted me about that a few minutes ago.”

Lucas poked his head up. “You and Alexia were friends? Are friends?”

“Yeah?” Eliott laughed. Lucas was somewhat surprised, he hadn’t remembered them being close. Eliott hadn’t really been really close to anyone besides Lucille from what he remembered, not even Sofiane.

“I guess I just never saw you guys hang out or anything.” Lucas scrambled to find an explanation, and Eliott laughed again.

“We didn’t hang out much outside the studio,” he confessed, “She was actually helping me with something.”

Lucas was nosy, sue him. “Something?”

Eliott became bashful. “It’s nothing.”

“Is it nothing or something?”

“Both?”

Lucas leveled him with an unamused stare. Eliott sighed. “Come on.”

“What?” Lucas watched as Eliott sat up and hopped off Lucas’ bed and out the door. He poked his head back in when he realized Lucas wasn’t following him, gesturing with one hand. “Come on!”

Curious, Lucas followed him, all the way out into the hallway and down to the studio spaces. He realized he was lagging behind and jogged a bit to catch up. “You have to check out studio time, you know,” he said as Eliott opened the door and flicked on the light to studio three. 

“I know,” he said simply. 

“Wait… did you have this studio checked out?” Eliott nodded and Lucas shook his head in disbelief. “Then why weren’t you in here?”

Eliott looked away from him, focusing intently on his phone. “There’s no limit to checking out the studios if no one is using them,” he said sheepishly, and Lucas narrowed his eyes. Why had Eliott been hanging out with him if he’d booked extra practice time? 

Eliott fiddled with his phone a moment longer before finding what he was looking for. “Polaris,” he said, as if that explained everything.

“Polaris,” Lucas repeated. 

“It’s a new ballet I’m trying to write and choreograph,” Eliott continued, and, whatever Lucas had been expecting, this was not it. Eliott was seventeen, how was he choreographing his own ballet in the midst of rehearsals for the lead in their production? Maybe that was why he’d skipped classes the week before… no, the studios had been in use during the days he’d missed, so that didn’t make sense. 

Lucas didn’t know how to respond, so he went for the simplest question. “What’s it about?”

Eliott smiled and launched into a full story of the two main characters, one a man, the other a man, woman, or creature, it didn’t matter. The creature lived in the darkness of a tunnel, never daring to step into the light, while the man lived in the light, terrified of the dark. Both characters met and spoke to one another on opposite sides of this tunnel, each too scared to join the other. Slowly, they fell in love, never having spoken face to face or touched even once. Eventually, though, at the climax, they met in the middle embracing each other and their fears and lived together in perfect harmony the rest of their lives. 

Lucas was a bit awestruck, to say the least. 

“Obviously I don’t have much choreography yet, it took me two years to flesh out the story entirely— that’s what Alexia helped me with, she’s got a great creative mind— and I’ve really only just begun putting it together. Of course, I don’t have music or anything yet either.” Eliott lowered his head bashfully upon seeing Lucas’ dumbfounded expression. “It’s a work in progress.”

Lucas huffed out an exasperated sigh. “Are you kidding? It’s incredible. Never in my life would I be able to—” He didn’t let himself finish the thought, knowing where it went anyway. He picked back up after a moment. “Sure, it’s a work in progress, but it could really be something big. Something that people generations from now will regard as one of the classics of ballet.”

He didn’t know why he was being so complimentary, other than the fact that, if this was anyone else, he would have been gushing even more. It was incredible, what Eliott was doing. Lucas couldn’t help but feel infinitely inadequate. Eliott looked equally as surprised. 

“Thank you, Lucas,” he said genuinely, “Really. Thank you. It means more than you know.” They gazed at each other for a beat, each of Lucas’ nerves standing on end at the sincerity in Eliott’s voice and expression. Then Eliott blinked and looked away and the magic was lost. “Can I show you part of it? I mean, it’s just an animated storyboard of the general idea, not the dance itself, but…”

“Of course.”

Eliott pulled out his phone again, faster than Lucas could even process what was going on. He showed Lucas a video of what he assumed was the climactic scene when the two characters meet. The creature in the dark stepped hesitantly into the light where the man was waiting, the creature held their hands up and the two laced their fingers together, looking at each other as if they were the only two people on the planet before joining together in a kiss. It was only a storyboard, as Eliott had said, but Lucas could feel the raw emotion emanating even from the drawings. It was breathtaking. 

“The light and dark then, are they sort of, like ‘metaphorical’ as well as physical?” Lucas asked, drawing the question out of his ass. He was shit at literature and symbolism and analysis, but he could try. 

Eliott frowned. “Yeah. Was that not obvious? Should I make it more obvious?” He looked worried and Lucas widened his eyes, shaking his head fervently. 

“No, no, no! I was just making sure I understood correctly, duh,” he lied swiftly, and Eliott visibly relaxed. 

His eyes carried a vibrant, passionate sort of light, as he continued explaining his ideas. “Obviously a big part of the story is the fact that they never touch, but I want to incorporate partnerwork in the choreography as well. Maybe I could have the creature stand behind a sheet of some sort, like a silhouette, and we could have them ‘dance’ together in that way. Of course, the man would have to pretend to partner without an actual partner, but it would be an interesting way to subvert expectations…”

Lucas nodded like this wasn’t all going completely over his head. He was so interested in this project, this story, but he didn’t have a mind like Eliott had, running and overflowing with both ideas and the capacity to execute them. 

Therefore he listened, only chiming in when Eliott asked him a direct question, mostly just listening to Eliott talk about his biggest dream and taking in every word. If he hadn’t hated Eliott so much, he might have thought he was falling in love.           

Jeudi 2:22       

“But… I don’t understand,” Lucas said to Eliott, who wasn’t meeting his gaze in the mirror. “We always do extra lessons together.”

“I know, but the director just said he wanted to do lessons with me.” Eliott finally glanced at Lucas over his shoulder. “I’m sure he’d help you too if you asked!”

But that was the thing. Lucas was ten, he couldn’t just ask the director for private lessons, he would be laughed at at best, kicked out of the school at worst. Eliott was the one who got the attention, the gold stars, the compliments, and usually Lucas was just happy for him, but it was hard to be happy all the time when no one cared about him. Not even Eliott. 

“I don’t think so, Eli,” Lucas said uncertainly, knowing Eliott didn’t understand why he couldn’t just go to the director and demand to be treated like a star. He wasn’t a star, not like Eliott was.

Eliott wrinkled his nose. “Don’t call me Eli here, Lu, we’re not babies anymore.”

“Then don’t call me Lu.” Lucas crossed his arms in front of his chest, but Eliott either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Eliott didn’t notice or care about a lot of things regarding Lucas that he used to. 

Instead, he turned around and tapped Lucas on the nose. “But you’ll always be my Lu!”

Lucas swatted his hand away. Why couldn’t Eliott always be his Eli? Eliott finally frowned, realizing Lucas wasn’t in the mood to be blown off or have his concerns fall on deaf ears. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything,” Lucas said softly, trying not to cry. Eliott had said they weren’t babies anymore, and grown ups didn’t cry. It was hard not to though. Everything with Eliott was just the icing on top of one mess of a cake. His mother had been committed to an institution and he didn’t know when he’d be able to see her or what that even meant, his father had forgotten to send a check to pay for his tuition, so he was on probation until further notice even though it wasn’t even his fault, and Yann had started asking questions about his bruises, questions he didn’t want to answer. 

He would have answered them, though, if Eliott had asked. But Eliott didn’t notice. Eliott didn’t care. They were supposed to be in this together, forever, but Lucas felt like the two of them had been dropped in the middle of the ocean and Eliott had swam to shore without even checking to make sure Lucas hadn’t drowned.

Eliott’s brows creased in concern. “Everything? Me included?”

Yes you, especially you. Lucas just shrugged, a tear escaping down his cheek. He wiped it away hastily, but Eliott saw it. “Lucas?” he pleaded.

“You don’t care about me anymore,” Lucas said quietly.

“What are you talking about? Of course I do! I just said you’ll always be my Lu,” Eliott smiled. 

Lucas frowned. “And I just said I didn’t want you to call me that anymore.”

“Is it because of your mom?” Eliott asked sincerely, and Lucas turned his head to Eliott so fast he almost got whiplash. 

“What about my mom?” Lucas didn’t think Eliott knew anything about his mom. Even if he told Eliott most of the things that made him sad, he probably wouldn’t have mentioned his mom. He didn’t really know what to say about her, didn’t even really know the extent of what was going on inside her head, and he wanted to make sure no one thought he loved her any less because of it. 

Eliott became sheepish, shifting from foot to foot. “I don’t know… my mom just told me that she was sick. That she was in the hospital.”

“She’s not crazy!” Lucas yelled before he could stop himself. He didn’t care about the tears anymore. 

Eliott blinked in surprise. “I didn’t say anything about her being crazy?”

Lucas was trying to keep himself together in whatever way he could. “You didn’t have to! It’s how everyone looks at her now and it’s not fair. She’s having a hard time but it’s not because she’s crazy. If anyone’s crazy, it’s my dad, because I try to be perfect but he still—” Lucas broke off, unable to get the words out.  

“He still what?” Eliott asked. He still hits me so hard that I pass out, he still bruises me where no one sees it, he still blames me for what happened to my mother, he still calls her crazy. But Lucas couldn’t say any of that, even if he wanted to. His voice was meek and timid. “He still nothing. Forget it.”

Maybe, maybe, if Eliott had asked again, or if he’d even showed that he cared, Lucas would have broken down and told him everything. Maybe they would have been ok. Eli and Lu.

But instead, Eliott said, “Ok.” 

They held their silence for quite a while, Eliott breaking it again minutes or hours later. “Do you want to see my fouettes? I’ve been practicing and I think I can do ten now! Maybe the director will help me do more…”

And, just like that, Lucas was done. In the back of his mind he knew Eliott hadn’t meant anything by it, just trying to get them back to joking around like they usually did, but it hurt. Eliott didn’t care enough or at all about him. Just his stupid fouettes and stupid private lessons with the stupid director. “I’m tired, I think I’m going to go take a nap,” Lucas said.

Eliott nodded, already facing the mirror again, preparing to practice his turns. “Ok. Later, Lu!”

“Later, Eli,” he said as he walked out the door, only because he knew it would be the last time he ever said it. 

Lucas woke abruptly with tears in his eyes. Why were some of the worst memories of his past haunting him so much recently? He turned his head and startled at the sight of Eliott, face buried in his pillow and breathing softly. 

He racked his brain trying to remember how he’d ended up there. Polaris, he remembered, then they’d come back to the suite, and Eliott had showed him more on his computer in his room. At some point Eliott had gone quiet and Lucas had realized he’d fallen asleep. Lucas had shifted him so his head was at the top of the bed and covered him with a blanket, about to get up when he realized Eliott’s bed was really comfortable. He must have fallen asleep there too. 

If he hadn’t dreamed, maybe he would have settled back in after waking up, or maybe he wouldn’t have woken up at all. Now, his entire body felt rigid, like he was betraying himself by even thinking he could stay in there. 

Why and how had he fooled himself into believing that maybe he and Eliott could get along? The memories were always there, in the back of his mind, but he’d ignored them for the most part. Fuck, he had to get out of there. 

Once he settled back into his own room be broke down into sobs that racked his whole body, knowing he was probably being kind of loud but also knowing Eliott was a fairly heavy sleeper so he didn’t have to worry about being heard. 

He was such an idiot, falling back into old patterns. Never again. He would go back to the way things had been at the beginning of the year, avoid Eliott at all costs. Never again. He would never again be the stupid boy who believed that people could change or that maybe he was worth something after all. 

[pixelgrotto]

D&D With My Bro: The Case of the Grandmotherly Ghost

Last weekend my brother and I concluded our second homebrew Dungeons & Dragons campaign starring Lester LeFoe and Claudia Copperhoof, two private detectives from Tartec, a setting that my bro created for his fantasy series The Thirteenth Hour. I called it The Case of the Grandmotherly Ghost, and it was quite different in scope from its predecessor, The Case of the Almost Assassination. That first adventure was based entirely within a city and focused on our heroes preventing a political assassination, and it was much more of a Holmesian urban investigation inspired by the Professor Layton and Ace Attorney games. In contrast, the theme of this second campaign was “the great outdoors,” and I wanted to create something that gave me an excuse to use a more traditional D&D framework - that of adventurers going to a quiet village and solving problems for townsfolk. You can watch the whole adventure on YouTube here (along with our first), and I’ll highlight a few of my influences in this post, since I think it might be an interesting thought process for anyone working on their own campaign. 

The hook getting Lester and Claudia to leave the capital city was the titular “grandmotherly ghost” haunting Aquaria, a small farming community. It turned out that the ghost was actually the former headmistress of the town orphanage, and she was simply trying to warn residents that the new orphanage master was a shady fellow with magic at his disposal who had secretly been brainwashing children and selling them to the barbarians of the Wild Lands, an uncharted grasslands region full of deadly beasts. And despite their seeming acceptance of slavery, the barbarians weren’t exactly bad guys either - they were more like a disenfranchised minority trying to maintain a tenuous peace with the Tartec king while fighting against a vicious sea serpent named Ungar who had recently invaded their turf. The only reason they needed the kids was to power an old steampunk robot known as the Clockwork Dragon which was the only thing capable of killing Ungar, and this gizmo had been created by a quirky wizard who loved children and made constructs that could only be used by orphans. 

So in other words, there were a whole lot of twists in the plot, which started as a ghost hunt in a village but quickly ballooned into a full-out exploration of the Wild Lands and the uncovering of a conspiracy. I’ve always felt that small, so-called “idyllic” towns actually hide a lot of creepy secrets behind an illusion of peace, and my character, Claudia, even comments on this at one point, talking about how cities are places where people are more likely to stab you in the open, but little villages are places where people are more likely to stab you in your sleep. Stephen King, one of my favorite authors, also subscribes to this notion, which is why he sets most of his works in weird Maine suburbs rather than cities. In interviews for Salem’s Lot, his book about vampires infesting a town, he actually mentions that if Dracula came back in this day and age and tried to take over New York City, he’d probably get run over by a car before making it very far. But a sleepy village in the middle of nowhere? He’d conquer that sort of place slowly but surely, and that’s the reasoning I kept remembering while designing both the town of Aquaria and Albertus Alright, the new orphanage master and probably the only real “villain” in our campaign, aside from Ungar the sea serpent herself. 

Speaking of villains, I mentioned earlier that the barbarians who play such a large role in this story weren’t exactly bad guys. This was an important thing that I wanted to develop, because real life rarely has the mustache-twirling baddies of fiction - just people who are often radically intent on accomplishing their goals. Around the time when I was brainstorming this adventure, I was reading Scalped, which is a great comic series by Jason Aaron and R. M. Guéra about life on a South Dakota Native American reservation. It highlights the crime, corruption, poverty and preservation of cultural identity that many of these reservations grapple with, and I found this to be inspiring stuff when designing the barbarians and their Wild Land home. I basically tried to portray them as natives who’d been abused and quarantined off in a tiny area by a larger, more powerful government, which is frankly what’s happened to most aboriginal peoples across the globe, not just in the United States. Within the fantasy setting of the campaign, the big government power was the Tartec empire of King Darian IV, and there was a small segment of the barbarians - the Clawrunner tribe - who resented this oppression and ended up getting their hands on the Clockwork Dragon, a weapon that could’ve given them the upper hand against the Tartec forces if they’d wanted to use it in such a way. Luckily, they were more focused on killing the sea serpent razing their homeland, and Lester and Claudia essentially served as neutral go-betweens, encouraging them to not engage in terrorism or cause a war that would’ve quickly gotten out of hand. If only real life could have such quick ‘n easy resolutions!

On the topic of sea serpents and mecha dragons, one of the other main tropes of traditional D&D that I wanted to inject into this quest was that of the monster. Aside from a crocodile and some snakes in the sewers, the last campaign I’d played through with my brother had mostly featured human enemies, simply because there aren’t many deadly creatures to be found within a city. (Though you could probably argue that humans are the worst monsters of all!) Venturing into the wilderness gave me the excuse to go through the Monster Manual and pull out some of the beasties that make tabletop RPGs fun, though since my brother’s world isn’t the sort of place that has humanoids like orcs, goblinkin or mind flayers, I decided to focus on the more animal-esque D&D creatures that are naturally found in forests and grasslands - stuff like the owlbear (one of my faves), the griffon, the bulette and a few mutated, more powerful versions of mammals found in our world, like rhinos and wolves. When I was designing the Wild Lands section of the adventure I also became aware of the Baby Bestiary - a wonderful series of third party D&D supplements by Metal Weave Games that provides details on younger versions of classic creatures - and I was so enamored of the concept that I wrote a turning point where Lester and Claudia can choose to adopt either an infant griffon or an infant owlbear. My brother went with the griffon, naming it Sparky, and it’ll hopefully grown to be a strong companion (Pokemon style) in future adventures. 

I had one more thing I wanted to pull off with monsters in this campaign - a throwdown in the finale between the Clockwork Dragon, which could be powered by Lester, Claudia and the orphans like a medieval Voltron, and the sea serpent Ungar. This was inspired by a phase I went through about two years ago where I watched nearly all of the Godzilla movies in a row. When I finished, I kept trying to figure out how to implement kaiju battles into a tabletop RPG, because surprisingly nobody’s really done this successfully yet, though board games like King of Tokyo have come close. I finally decided that the best way to do it would be to give relatively low level playable characters temporary control of a giant beast with high level stats. So Lester and Claudia, two seventh level characters, got to choose from abilities meant for a Challenge Rating 14 dragon, giving them access to stuff like Legendary Actions and rechargeable fire breath. Their opponent was also a high level dragon with similar capabilities, and the resulting combat went better than I expected and communicated (as best as you can in a tabletop RPG, anyway) the scale and power that comes with the best big monster fights. I’ll probably end up recycling the idea again for another D&D group - in this one DM + one player game, it was just my brother controlling all of the Clockwork Dragon’s actions, but I think it would be fun with a larger group to have one player control the movement, one control the attacks, one the Legendary Actions, etc. 

All in all, The Case of the Grandmotherly Ghost took about 11 sessions and 24 hours to complete, which is roughly on par with The Case of the Almost Assassination. 20-30 hours seems to be the amount of content that I subconsciously end up creating when I design a campaign, which is interesting, because about four years ago on this blog I wrote (in a poorly written fashion, I now find) a post about how 30-ish hours is probably my ideal length for a gaming experience. The next adventure my bro and I will be embarking upon with Lester and Claudia - The Case of the Troubled Territory - might end up hitting that mark as well, though I do plan to experiment and hopefully make it more open-ended than this past one, which checked off most of my bullet points but was slightly too linear at moments.

At any rate, now that we’ve conquered the great outdoors, the theme for the next quest will be “Arabian Nights!” Who knows what future rolls lie in store for our heroes? Expect another campaign deconstruction in…five or six months time, hopefully!