#the whole book is done if you just want to stream through it and I highly reccomend you do

[ramblesanddragons]

Bravo to the cast and crew of @re-dracula it has been an absolute pleasure. I consider this to be the best adaptation of the work out there and will be recommending it constantly to anyone who will listen to my rambles.

[northwest-cryptid]

You know what, no I'll go on record and just say that;

Mabinogi hands down IS the best MMORPG.

Now sure, you can immediately call me bias; and I can literally tell you that is an overused argument. Truth is, yes I have a bias, I have a bias as someone who has played literally hundreds of MMOs, and has never found one that can hold a candle to Mabinogi. Yes this includes games like WoW or FFXIV, and even lesser known but still popular titles like Path of Exiles or Warframe or even Tree of Savior.

But why exactly do I say that Mabinogi is the best MMORPG on the market? Well I think a good MMORPG does a few things, firstly I think any game that wants to be an RPG that lets you make a character needs to give you a sense of identity. Second, I believe an MMO needs to create an interesting environment for playing alongside others; whether they're directly in your party or not. Lastly, no good RPG is complete without going on a grand adventure with proper noticeable growth.

Now, before we begin to really dive into this essay of a post, I want to cover something real quick because I think it's important. When I say Mabinogi is the best MMORPG, and I'm saying that I've played games like WoW or FFXIV. I'm not trying to say those games are bad. I will concede that direct translation and definition would suggest I believe they are "worse" than Mabinogi, and yes I do believe that. However I'm not trying to tell you that your favorite MMORPG is bad or garbage or whatever. Please do not take my personal opinion to be slander of your favorite game. For a lot of players, an MMORPG can be special to them, the characters and the world can mean something to them; and I don't want to be some hater when it comes to your favorite place on the internet.

I'm not coming into this as someone who's naive about the world of MMOs, I know the good and the bad of them, not ALL of them; but a good lot of them. However I want to make something clear; if I went into why other games were "worse" than Mabinogi I would immediately be ignored. Let's say you really like FFXIV, that's fine; it's a good game, I play it myself and am excited about the latest expansion coming out in a few days. Now if I tell you that I think it's kind of ridiculous how much they've simplified the game to the point no class feels truly unique mechanically, or how I used to like AST more before they took away our card's uniqueness and such. It's entirely possible you would stick with me and understand that, even if our opinions differ; what I'm saying is true to me even if it's not to you. Sure maybe you hated having RNG in the RNG healer class, maybe you disliked having to decide if you wanted to spread that buff to the whole party, or enhance that buff for one person, or extend the buff. Maybe you like it more now that everything sort of does the same thing. I'm not talking down to you or being sarcastic when I say, that's fine. We just feel differently about it. Thing is, I've very likely lost you; It's unlikely you hear all of that and not think I'm just some FFXIV hater. I'm not, but it's unlikely you think that way after hearing all my gripes with it. I wouldn't blame you for thinking someone who just tore into a game likely dislikes the game, that's a fair assumption.

If at any point I do sort of dig into a game for it's changes, mechanics, or just how it works. I want you to understand I only feel that way because I do enjoy those games and wish they didn't do things that made playing them feel less fun to me. Those last two words are possibly the most important there; this whole post is strictly opinion, it's my opinion. We don't need to share that opinion, but I hope you find what I say to be at least interesting. I don't see much reason to sit through the whole thing otherwise.

Oh... and one more thing, if you follow this link and download the game now it should be done roughly by the time you finish reading this, probably; maybe? <- That's not even an affiliate link; I'm not sponsored to say anything I'm saying here, I wish I was though.

Game Website Link -> Right here, if you need to make an account.

Now without further delay, let's get into my first key point of why Mabinogi is the best MMORPG on the market right now.

The first order of business in any MMORPG will also be the first thing we talk about here, creating a character. You can't step foot into a world of fantasy without having an avatar to represent yourself. If this individual is to be your fantasy self then the game better have enough customization options to really let you be you. Mabinogi has plenty, from skin color, player weight, and even age; to the colors of the garments you wear.

Let's start with that first bit I mentioned in the introductory paragraph, creating an identity. Mabinogi is a game that truly allows for a diverse cast of characters, when you first make a character the system will unfortunately be fairly limited. Yet when you're released into the game proper and complete the tutorial you will soon find that it's extremely open ended. Your character will start at an age between 10 and 17 (but can go to 25 and even further if you wish), which you'll be able to select once per day, or once per week depending on your level. Age has a very slight almost non-existent effect on your stats, but will mostly determine how tall you are. As a quick example, here is my human main at 18 (left) alongside 2 other players. While I cannot see their age, I can tell their race is human; which allows me to at least guess one is roughly 10 - 13 (middle) and the other is likely anywhere between 15 - 16 (right).

When it comes to skin color, Mabinogi is one of the few games that has a great selection. From the realistic to the fantastical; there's almost certainly something for everyone here.

I've seen light skinned characters, dark skinned characters, tanned and red skinned characters. I've partied up with fantasy demons and zombies. I buy my dyes from a player who's literally pure black with blinding white eyes; a small imp-like character who's style I absolutely adore and who's dyes are top quality. While it doesn't even begin to cover the extensive list, I thought I'd take a few screenshots to help show what I mean.

Now I understand a lot of you may feel like your character doesn't truly reflect you as a person unless you can be the right weight for you. Mabinogi has you covered here as well, albeit with a slightly convoluted system. I will openly admit that this game is flawed, it is by no means a perfect game; but I take this as a sort of "better than nothing" approach. Food in Mabinogi will grant slight stat bonuses, but underneath those stat points and flavor text there's a hidden mechanic.

Food provides players with Upper and Lower muscle gain or loss, as well as a Weight gain or loss. While food is not the only method of gaining or losing both weight and muscle, it is the most common, and arguably easiest method. Players have many guides on the internet that explain which foods to eat in which order to gain the body type you want, this even includes the wiki.

It's also important to note that weight does not effect your stats, the food you eat absolutely does give a small temporary bonus. However your character can be as fat or skinny as you'd like without ever effecting your ability to perform any task.

I would be remiss not to mention another feature of creating an identity, and it does feel like this is an appropriate place to do it. Every day, or every week (depending on your level) you can preform something called a Rebirth, your level will return to 1 and you will be allowed to change some things about your character or leave them as they are.

This will unfortunately readjust your weight settings, which is why we see so many guides on how to get the ideal weight you're looking for. Thankfully it is by no means difficult to achieve this weight gain once more and will take no more than a few minutes after rebirthing.

As a quick note I won't spend too much time on, for my fellow genderfluid and NB friends out there; you can actively change your gender whenever you rebirth (though obviously you don't have to be NB or Genderfluid to enjoy this feature) and there is a good amount of items specific for crossdressing if that is something you'd prefer. That list of items is far more than your generic maid outfit for men; including everything from dresses to common skirts, with women getting suits, hoodies, and everything in between. If you switch genders you will even get an achievement specifically titled "Genderfluid" which I genuinely appreciate quite a lot.

Speaking of clothing, Mabinogi allows you to use a Style Tab when putting on gear. Your style tab won't give you any stats, but allows you to use the look of whatever is equip to the selected slot over the actual gear worn under it. The Style Tab is free for all players, so you can look your best no matter what you might be doing. Though I suppose those clothes wouldn't really be your own unless you had some kind of say over how they looked right?

Thankfully Mabinogi features a robust dying system in which you can actually use hex coded colors on just about any part of an outfit. You can also preview these changes directly on your character prior to using a dye.

There's a specific, and short; list of items that can't be dyed. Otherwise it's common for every item in the game to have at least one or two dye slots where you can customize their colors however you'd like.

You can do the same for your weapons, even giving them skins to change how they look; and then dying those skins to look just how you want them. A good weapon should match your best outfit after all, right?

Clothing items additionally come in the form of helmets, gloves, boots, main body, robes/back slot, face accessories, and then two more accessories that typically float to either side or behind you. This means you can mix and match everything you wear. You're not stuck trying to make some minor hat fit the entire rest of your armor that came as one solid piece, and you're certainly not struggling to match colors when only a small part of your armor actually dyes to the color you want.

Your identity in Mabinogi is what you see fit to make it, and while it would make this segment incredibly long, more so than it already is; the customization doesn't even end here. To give you an idea of what I'm talking about, you can actually customize how often and how many times your character will blink. There is no other game on the market that lets you create a character the way Mabinogi does, not while still being an entire world outside of your character for you to explore. Speaking of that world, before we get to exploring just what this game has in store for you on your adventure; I'd like to talk about the characters who aren't you. No I don't mean the NPCs, I mean the other players, and how they impact the game you play even when they're not in your party.

Speaking of other players, to really hit home just how different everyone can look I ran around and took a few pictures of players I found in just this one small town.

You may be wondering how much these other players actually matter, in a lot of MMORPGs other players are merely there to fill out the party for dungeons or assist with world encounters. In Mabinogi they do that as well, however there is a constantly evolving economy both on the player ran Auction House, and for things like the Commerce system. Players can also run their own shops, join you for a jam session to play some music together; and even burn some items for a campfire spirit summoned at a group bonfire.

While the NPCs in this game are fantastic, the players are the lifeblood of the game, as is the case with any good MMORPG. From guilds and parties running content together, to the occasional camp you'll come across while exploring the world. Players populate Mabinogi and their effects are felt whether or not you're actively a part of their game.

One of the features most effected by this is Commerce; a trade system which lets players transport trade goods between major cities and towns. If an item is being traded to a town more than others, it's price will drop and you may find better deals by taking it to far away cities. Though you'll encounter bandits on the road, and due to carrying heavy trade goods you'll be a good bit weaker than you usually find yourself. This makes traveling in groups much easier, with those who use air travel particularly; in need of parties thanks to the dragons who will come after your hoard of trade goods. If a bandit is to steal your loot, you need not worry; as other players can take up the role of bounty hunters and track down these bandits at their hideouts to get your stuff back. Bounty Hunting is an easy way to make some cash and also help out your fellow players who may have been wronged by a poorly placed bandit or two.

What about production? Surely I don't need anyone to assist me with making my goods. Though, a second opinion never hurts; you will actually get a boost to production success rate while in a party with other players who also have production skills. In fact, this is a great way to make some strong gear; as products you make will get bonus stats over those found in stores. This does mean that the player economy is largely populated by products made by other players. If you do a good enough job on the item you're making, you'll even leave a signature behind which can be seen by the individuals who buy and use that gear. This is a minor touch, but it's one I greatly appreciate. Anyone can have a really cool demon sword, but only I have a blade forged specifically by my good friend; in hopes it would aid me in my quest. The connection between myself and my party is ever so slightly more apparent, even when they're not around; I always have a small piece of them with me.

Players attending the banquet, an event held weekly that awards free EXP and a lottery raffle at the Tara Castle; can actually donate their food to the catering tables. This is a great time to hang out with fellow players, get some free levels; and of course eat significantly too much food.

Surely that's all, right? Well no, believe it or not players actually have a hand in many things. If you want to enchant some gear but you don't have the enchanting rank to do it yourself; you can request another player to assist you. Perhaps you're an alchemist needing to create alchemy crystals of special magic skills; another player can cast that magic nearby and let you synthesize it into a crystal. If you're using the Jam Session action other players can join you with their own instruments when you play music; automatically matching whatever song you're playing. There's a fashion contest where the winner is put on display in full costume right in the middle of the major cities for all to see. There's even mechanical changes to things like magic, if you're casting Ice Bolt while I cast Fire Bolt next to you; we instead both gain a charge of Fusion Bolt. This form of magic combines the properties of your Ice Bolt and my Fire Bolt into a more powerful version of our respective magics, all because we happened to cast at the same time nearby each other.

If you enjoy music then you might find yourself reading through the Bard Bulletin Board, where players can post the compositions for their custom music. You can transcribe this music yourself and play it whenever you wish, though you can also use the MabiNovel Bulletin to read books written and published by your fellow players as well. This does in fact mean that you too could become a composer, or even an author and post your works to the respective boards.

Players can also obtain their own small piece of the world via Homesteads. These function as a sort of player owned housing system, and they allow you to do everything from growing farms to hosting your own production stations with boosted success rates. Of course the owner of the Homestead can allow either friends, or anyone; to come and gather from their herb patches, farm animals, and various logging, mining, and production sites. Meaning that other players not only offer you an expanded world to explore, but potentially gathering and production spots that may not otherwise be available at your current location.

While Homesteads start quite small, they're nothing to scoff at when fully upgraded; allowing for even a proper house, pets, and partners; to be placed on the fully customizable property. Some items will even passively grant you bonuses to your stats or provide your gathering and production stations bonuses to gathering and success rates.

Alright great, so you have a character who's uniquely you; you even have a place in the world among other players. However what good is that if you don't have a world worth existing in. You're here to play an MMORPG, if you wanted to simply dress up an avatar and exist in a space with others; you'd play something like VRChat or Second Life, or maybe you'd go download that Sims multiplayer mod. You want an RPG! An adventure! A living world to explore and be a part of!

Well Mabinogi's got you covered there as well believe it or not. Now where you fall in terms of enjoying the story is fairly up in the air; I know some people who love it and others who could take it or leave it. That's entirely fair and I don't blame them for feeling that way. To avoid potential spoilers I will be saying up front that if this has been enough for you and you're willing to trust me that this game is worth your time. Skip ahead to the Q and A if you think you need it, or go download and play the game now if you didn't already do that. Hell you can even add me in game if you want some people to play with who are going to be chill with newbies. If you need a bit more though, then keep reading because you might just like what I have to say about this game's journey.

When you start Mabinogi you'll be told you're this being from the stars, something that cannot die; and therefore has importance here. You may literally be an immortal entity, but you won't feel like it. You'll start with only a handful of skills, and with this game having no real class system it's not so straight forward how to get more of them. You'll stumble upon a few while just exploring the world, but others might require you to actually engage with the world around you. If that sounds exciting, don't worry; we've only just begun to explain the whole system of interacting with NPCs.

See the game of Mabinogi is before all else, the story of you; your character the journey you go on. So it's fitting that you keep notes in a Memo, this Memo is written in the perspective of your character; and will keep tabs on what you've been through. Each entry in the Memo is given a Key Word; and these key words will be given to you as you experience new places and things. Whenever you engage with an NPC you can start a conversation, this allows you to flip through your Memo and select a Key Word to speak about with them. Asking them about their private story will reveal this character's lore and backstory, at least; if they like you enough to share that information with you. NPCs do actually contain a system of trust with the player, and if you befriend an NPC they'll even let you access a secret shop where they sell exclusive items. Other Key Words include things like Nearby Rumors where you can obtain gossip and quests; or perhaps you want to ask about Part Time Jobs. Whether you're working for the town blacksmith to deliver some refined ore, or you're gathering wool to make bandages for the town healer; Part Time Jobs offer you fitting rewards for the work you perform, and allow you to even unlock various skills down the line if you perform well enough. Which brings us to another Key Word, the Skills Key Word. Skills is a Key Word that will ask an NPC if they believe they could teach you anything, if you see a knight you can ask them about Skills and maybe learn a new technique for your swordsmanship. Asking a chef about skills may result in them giving you a quest that has you running out to make flour and bake some bread. These methods are meant to immerse you in the world and teach you how the mechanics behind these skills works, rather than just saying you're level 16 so now you can bake bread.

Some NPCs will even react to your title, thanking you for the deeds you've done or perhaps judging you for why you'd do such a thing. This is because every NPC in the game, no matter how minor; has a story to tell. They all have unique theme music that contains a name referencing something about the character and their story. The more you talk to these NPCs and they open up to you, the more you'll learn about the world you're a part of.

However, small NPC stories don't amount to much in the grand scheme of an epic adventure do they? Well don't worry, now we're getting into the main scenario quests, and the lasting impact they have on you as a character. Have you ever felt like you should have maybe gotten a new power, or been recognized for the deeds you've accomplished after you literally save the world; only to return to business as usual? Well Mabinogi actually considered all of that, not only do you get a title that NPCs might react to, as I mentioned previously; but the Main Scenario Questline actually gives you everything from transformations to special unique items. This is again the last chance to not have spoilers as I will be covering at the very least Generation 2: Paladin and Generation 10: Goddess of Light through Generation 12: Return of the Hero.

Okay now that everyone who doesn't want spoilers is gone, allow me to tell you about just a few of these MSQ rewards; of course jumping right to the good stuff without context makes it meaningless. So let's start with a quick summary of Generation 1 that's roughly spoiler free.

Generation 1: Advent of the Goddess starts with The Goddess asking you for help, then you save her. See I kept it spoiler free! You're given the title "[Player name] Who Saved The Goddess" for doing this which grants you some nice stats, but the real reward is that you get to move on to Generation 2: Paladin. Well wow, that's kind of an underwhelming title isn't it? You just finished Advent of the Goddess and now you're on... Paladin? Huh okay, well this quest line is all about a Paladin of legend. You spend the generation becoming someone worthy of the Paladin's armor, searching for his old armor, and even reliving some old memories of his. All to figure out who he is and solve the grand mystery that sparked this whole generation in the first place. The political drama of a potentially puppeteered prince who may actually be dead from the start... Okay yea listen it's more interesting when you actually play it. The real plot twist of this whole generation however is when you figure out who that old Paladin actually is, and more importantly that they're still alive. In the final dungeon of this generation when you face off against the final encounter he is not the one who saves the day. Rather it is you who gets to don the armor of the legendary Paladin and in a moment I love, you get to save him. This transformation is actually a fairly minor stat boost at first. You're not some overpowered god, you're still you; just powered up. When you complete the generation you will find yourself with a wholly new power available to you, the power to become that very same Paladin; now with it's own skills to rank to make it even stronger than it already was.

Yes, just for clearing Generation 2 you now have an entirely new power unlocked for you. The power to, once a day in game time; transform into your Paladin form. If you're an Elf you transform instead into a Falcon, and Giants transform into a Beast. These new forms come with their own unique skills and properties. However you don't lose access to the skills and abilities you already have. This will be a running theme throughout Mabinogi, you only get more; you don't get locked out from being you. If the Paladin aesthetic isn't your deal, and you want things a little different, don't worry; Generation 3: Dark Knight might be more your style. However, this begs the question; are Dark Knights and Paladins the same thing flavored differently? Nope. Sure they are both the same Transformation at the end of the day, but their inner workings are very different. To give you a quick example of what I mean, Paladins always get the same stats every time, but they have no specialized skill they can use while transform. They're essentially your generic stronger form, with buffed stats and nothing more, dull but reliable. Dark Knights instead roll for their stats every time they transform, meaning sometimes you're going to have much stronger physical defense, and other times a much higher magic damage stat. If you're interested in the specifics, here you go:

Dark Knights also don't get forcibly removed from their transformation when their timer is up, rather they go into a state called "Disarmed" where they will take heavy damage over time, but this can be healed if they wish to power through it and keep fighting in their transformed state. They additionally obtain Control of Darkness which lets them tame an enemy to fight for them for a short time.

The Generation 2 transforms (Paladin, Dark Knight, Falcon, and Beast) all have 4 tiers of their transformation, dependent on the skills rank. Each boasting it's own unique title and appearance that builds on their central aesthetic and motif. This means a player who's max ranked Paladin will transform into a Champion, or for Dark Knights, they'll become an Infra Black. I do enjoy the morals of the game being muddier than to just say Paladin is bright and shiny and good, and Dark Knight is well, dark and edgy and bad. As you go through the game you'll learn a lot about the politics of the gods, and understand their moral values a lot better. Which leads us to our next major upgrade.

In Generation 10: Goddess of Light, we take the fight to the gods, and between Generation 10 and Generation 12, we'll even obtain the Sword of the Gods, a then usable sword weapon which ironically may not even be as powerful as some of our own gear by the time we get it; but more specifically we'll decline godhood and become a Demigod. However it's a bit deeper than that, as you'll find that at the end of Generation 10 you're confronted by your doppelganger. Upon defeating it, you gain the power to assume the form of a Demigod; which yes, you can in fact transform into while also transformed into your Generation 2 state. Not only does this form regen your HP, MP, and Stamina; but it additionally allows the use of special skills that depend on which of the gods you're allied with. Those who are being supported by the Goddess Neamhain will obtain skills such as Spear of Light, and Fury of Light; however if you decide to be supported by the Goddess Morrighan you instead obtain Wings of Eclipse, and Wings of Rage. Of course you won't have a choice right away, when you first obtain the ability to become a Demigod, you'll be defaulted to working with Naemhain's skills. They're not bad, but Morrighan isn't going to just give you her skills so easily so if we want options we'll need to get her to work with us. Once we clear Generation 11: Sword of the Gods; we in fact obtain the Sword of the Gods itself. This is important since we'll need it if we're going to fight the gods. Now in Generation 12 we are asked to fight alongside Morrighan to bring down the King of the Gods, Nuadha. For clearing this generation, you'll obtain the right to be supported by Morrighan; which is kind of funny since if you're a Dark Knight it shows you've actually betrayed her by giving up the path of the Paladin in favor of following Dark Knight. I guess she can overlook that given you just helped her defeat the King of the Gods.

Surely the upgrades stop there right? Well no, actually; but you probably knew that already. See there's actually currently, up to G25, with G26 on an active countdown to release as I make this post. With even more transformations, special skills, and some really incredible upgrades that change even the way we engage with crafting; the generation quests are more than worth your time and leave you feeling more powerful with each completion.

Mabinogi isn't just having you go through these quests to complete the story, it's also actively making you more and more the proper image of this immortal hero of legend. It's giving you a power boost on par with some silly shonen anime. As much as you may cringe to hear me make a stupid joke from the early internet; yes the Milletian could beat Goku. Sorry I had to make the dumb joke after making the shonen anime reference you know? These powers aren't ever restricted from you either; it's not as if you suddenly can't use your Paladin transformation in a dungeon, nor are you locked out from using Demigod to regen some stamina just to pick some flowers. Mabinogi is the story of your character, and it gives you so many upgrades and power scale boosts because it genuinely wants you to feel like a powerful hero going up against powerful enemies.

Now I will admit there's something to be said about the balance in some of the later Generation quests, especially because you can skip over a lot of them. They absolutely do plan for you to have the full arsenal of Generation specific skills by the time you reach Generation 20+ but dare I say, I think that's fair. We actually see this in other games too, it's just more allowed from other games because they do a better job of hiding their barrier to entry.

What I mean is that FFXIV is like Dark Souls 3, it's not going to let me go somewhere I'm not actually ready for, because it knows I won't have any fun getting my ass kicked but it's really linear. While Mabinogi is like Elden Ring, it looks at me saying "I'm ready I'm ready put me in coach!" While facing down against an actual god well before I'm... you know, actually ready. Yet it just says "go get 'em champ!" Only to watch me become a pancake two seconds later and think "yea this balance is garbage." Truth is, if I go back and do the content I'm suppose to do first; I will be more than ready for this content when I reach it. However I might actually be able to clear this content when I'm not supposed to yet, and Mabinogi; much like Elden Ring, lets me try. We see this same type of barrier to entry in how FFXIV says "hey man you can't run this until you're Item Level 280 sorry." That feels boring when you just want to run the thing, you don't want to go back and "grind" for item levels, but in reality it's just stopping you from trying and failing repeatedly. Which makes sense for the type of game FFXIV is, where other players are a requirement, and you don't want to hold them back because you thought you could do it with less.

The other truth is, with Mabinogi; not every path to success is going to look the same. I might spend my time training my combat skills, slowly saving up the small stat gains to get to where my base strength is at 500 and I can deal some nice damage. My friend who doesn't want to touch combat skills can absolutely focus on his cooking, slowly but surely becoming a master chef as I've become a master warrior. Now he can make a catering dish that boosts his strength to 500 all the same. We're not going to be dealing the same damage since things like weapon type, and skill ranks will come into play; but this does mean he could achieve the same goals as me in a totally different way. Personally I'm a huge fan of this, it lets every single character feel unique; you can truly become your own kind of player here.

Whether it's weaving your magic skills into your archery gameplay, or becoming an apothecary bard who uses musical buffs and potions to level the playing field. Perhaps you want to train your Ninja and Chain Blade skills to keep you at a distance, debuff enemies, and set explosive traps. You could even just play the game with life skills, relaxing by the pond as a master fisher; before tailoring a new outfit. All of these methods are entirely valid ways to play the game, they all give the necessary stats to enjoy whatever content you wish to, and yes they all give you levels.

It is for these reasons, and honestly; many others. That I have played this game since it's beta, for literally half my lifetime; and why I believe this is genuinely hands down the best MMORPG on the market right now. I urge you to give this game even 15 or 30 minutes of your time, don't get caught up on the old dated graphics, don't fret if you don't understand everything right away. The game is complex, it has a ton of mechanics that mix and intertwine to create a unique experience. The things you might find troublesome at first are exactly what makes the game so fun and unique when you understand them. Given the average internet speed and size of Mabinogi, should you have downloaded this game at the start of this reading it should be about done by now. If not, you've got the Q and A down there for any potential follow up questions you may have. So go ahead and jump into the world of Erinn, if you stop by Dunbarton on Channel 9 you might catch someone from the Landsbetween guild, feel free to stop and say hi; we're a friendly bunch.

A quick Q&A for things I've been asked frequently and might answer some questions or possible concerns you have about the game.

Q: I see a weird banner with P on it, does that mean I require a premium account to use that skin/hair color? A: No. That symbol signifies that it would cost Pon. A cash shop currency that is given to the player fairly regularly. You in fact get a gift box with about 20 Pon when you reach an early level milestone such as 50 or 100. It costs anywhere between 3 - 5 to change eye, hair, and skin color. Of course it only costs you to change to a color that uses the P banner, if a color you would like doesn't have any symbol (either a P for Pon or a B for a Beauty Coupon) then it's completely free. Q: I see a lot of cool characters, how much of a grind is it; or do I need to pay real money to customize my character? A: You can play Mabinogi entirely free to play, gacha boxes do contain high end loot and good in-game items. However the Auction House easily allows you to buy these items from players using entirely free to play gold when a new gacha comes out. While it might seem intimidating to make 1m at first. You'll quickly learn you can make 1m passively per week + any actual activity you do in this game earns you quite a lot. A single run of a dungeon will net me between 50k - 350k depending on drops and my actual in game luck stat. This is on top of the 160k I can make for free just logging in and doing Fynni Blossoming for the day. Of course, the higher your skills and total level; the easier it will be to make money. Q: I don't want to do a specific part of this game, can I still enjoy the other features? A: Yes. Entirely, in fact; I'm doing a challenge run on a character who's not allowed to rank up any combat or damage skills. I've already completed the first major questline of the game without any problem. I will say that your ability to play the game will directly reflect how much knowledge of the mechanics you have. This isn't to say you should scour the wiki for days on end, unless you're into that. However I would argue that having a few friends to play with, or perhaps actually taking the time to read through skills and practice with what you do enjoy doing; will help you to get by not doing the stuff you don't want to. You really can play this game however you want, it just may require you to have a better understanding of it's inner workings. You're always welcome to ask me about stuff whether that's here on tumblr or in game.

Q: My UI and HUD are this weird plastic blue color and I kinda hate it. Can I fix that or am I stuck with this? A: In the settings menu the game allows you to change the color of the UI and HUD to fit your liking. You can also enable various hotbars and disable others. Additionally you can change the game's resolution, and even pick out which version of the OST you'd like to use of which there are three distinct versions.

Q: Does this game have a meta I should worry about?

A: Yes and no, yes it has a meta; no you shouldn't worry about it. If you're really concerned I recommend picking Giant as your race and Close Combat as your starting Talent. I didn't go over Talents in this essay but they're sort of specializations, not classes. They don't limit anything you can do, but rather give you 2x EXP towards the skills they govern. Giants have a fair bit more strength and HP, they're your standard tanky race. While they may not be as fast on their feet as nimble Elves; they can take a good few more blows, and even have racial skills specific to gathering up enemies. Close Combat doubles down on what Giants are already good at, giving you more HP and Strength. Start out by ranking your essential basics, those being Defense, Smash, Counter, Windmill, and honestly throw Assault Slash in for good measure; since you'll want to often combo these skills together. DO NOT SLEEP ON DEFENSE, it is a heavily overlooked but extremely powerful skill. If you feel like you're struggling in combat, grab a shield and rank your shield mastery; even light armor mastery will be more than enough so long as you have a decent shield and the necessary ranks in the skills. You'll soon feel like a steel wall of defense that not even major storyline bosses can put a dent into.

Q: What are the differences between Elves, Humans, and Giants? Can I change my race after I make my character, since I can change my gender?

A: First off, no; sadly you cannot change your race after making a character. This is become of the racial differences. The major ones are as follows...

Elves can use invisibility to hide themselves, they'll fire 2 arrows as opposed to 1 when using archery; and they obtain a unique poison arrow that spreads to nearby targets when fired. They move faster than other races and have stats better geared towards Magic and Archery; though that won't matter too much. They become a Falcon after Generation 2 letting them use Elven Magic Missile, and cannot use 2 handed weapons nor can they dual wield.

Giants can use stomp which is a fairly week AoE ability, they also get Taunt, Stampede, and Wind Guard as unique skills. They can use two handed weapons in one hand letting them use a shield with them, and can dual wield blunt objects. They have stats geared towards a close combat play style, though again that won't matter too much later on. They become a Beast after Generation 2 letting them use Giant Full Swing, they cannot use bows but have thrown spears instead.

Humans cannot learn the specific racial skills of the other two races. They can dual wield swords; and don't have equipment restrictions outside of not being able to dual wield blunt objects and not being able to use the throwing spears. They have stats geared to an all around play style, which as you know; doesn't really matter much. They become a Paladin after Generation 2, or they can become a Dark Knight which gives them the active skill Control of Darkness which lets them tame an enemy to fight for them.

Q: Is this game Pay to Win?

A: Is any MMORPG not Pay to Win? Alright, real answer; let's break it down. Does Mabinogi have Pay to Win properties? Absolutely it does. Most if not all MMORPGs do. FFXIV has the paid level boosts just like Mabinogi has paid gacha boxes with end game loot. I'm not trying to pick on FFXIV here, it's just what I'm familiar with because I also play it. Truth is, Mabinogi gives you a lot of gold for just doing content, whether you're a crafter who can sell your wares for millions, just doing daily Fynni gems for 1m a week per character, or combat focused and running your Lord missions with boosts for a few million in a couple hours. So while I'd argue that it absolutely is pay to win, not only do you not need those minor boosts from the gear until long into the later generations; you also will have the money to buy it off players long before you actually need it. That's if you need it at all, since you can easily get ahead in this game by just engaging with the many skills and mechanics. If I had to give this a simple yes or no, the answer is yes; but I really don't think it's nearly as bad in Mabinogi as it is in other games. Especially considering how small the PvP scene in this game is. You don't need to pay to win when someone else in your party absolutely did, or maybe you just pay in gold to win. However I'd argue that it's pay to win FASTER than others. Just take it slow and enjoy the journey. Every game is pay to win, Mabinogi handles it better than most.

Q: Is there any reason for me to not like this game?

A: Yea the devs haven't hired me to write articles like this for their marketing. Boycott worthy honestly; they should pay me for this, or at least make me a soul streamer, you know? (┬┬﹏┬┬) ^ This last one is a joke, you know; in case reading comprehension.

[sadnymi]

「 ✦ Not One of your girls.✦ 」

[part1][Theodore Nott × reader] [p2]

Summary: Theodore Nott was the love of my life, the one I'd trade my whole world for. But this summer, I yearned for a different role in his life, even if it meant becoming just one of his girls

Warning:fluff, angst, smut, strong language.

Words:6.5k

Tears? I don't think I had any left. It felt like I'd spent the past month in a self-imposed exile, navigating the city with a map etched into my memory solely to avoid him. Ignoring calls, dodging mutual friends. I'd become a ghost in my own life, flitting from corner to corner, hoping i won’t see him, anything to escape the phantom touch, the memory of his smirk.

Lana's call shattered the fragile peace I'd constructed. Her voice, usually bubbly with gossip, held a worried tremor. "Something's definitely wrong, (Y/N)," Lana had pressed over the phone, her voice laced with concern. "You sound… empty.”

I'd lied, of course. "Just the summer blues, Lani. Missing you like crazy."

"Uh-huh," she said, skepticism thick in her voice. "Well, guess what? I'm finally coming home! You gotta come get me from the airport, promise?"

"Of course," I said easily, even when the thought of the airport twisting the knife in my gut.

“Theo's picking me up, you wanna come with him ?"

"Actually," I hesitated, hating the way my voice betrayed me, "I was kind of thinking maybe I could… tag along with Chris?"

There was a beat of surprised silence, then a slow, knowing chuckle from Lana. "Whoa, okay, didn't see that coming. You sure you don't want me to ask Theo?"

The name sent a fresh spike of pain through me. "Theo? Absolutely not. Have you seen the way he drives?…" I trailed off, unable to voice the truth – anything but Theo.

A pang shot through me as I descended the stairs, catching sight of Mom lost in thought, staring at the picture of Theo, Mattheo, and my brother as kids. They were all smiles, dirt smudged on their faces, a testament to countless childhood adventures. A ghost of a smile touched my lips. "I miss him too," I whispered, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

Mom jumped slightly, startled from her reverie. Her eyes softened the moment they landed on me. "(Y/N)! Honey, I was just about to check on you. Your father and I were getting worried sick." She took my hand, her concern evident in the gentle squeeze.

"Just… thinking," I hedged, forcing a smile onto my face. The last thing I needed was to worry them. "Everything's fine."

Mom eyed me skeptically. "Are you sure? You haven't been yourself lately."

"Just hitting adulthood, finally," I joked, trying to lighten the mood. Mom chuckled, swatting my chest playfully.

"Dinner at the Nott family tonight, don't forget," she announced, and my smile faltered.

"Oh, no, Mom, I… I actually promised my book club I'd be there tonight," I stammered, desperately searching for an excuse. "And you know Lana's still at camp, I think you guys should go without me."

My mom's brow furrowed in confusion. "Book club? Since when? And Lana? Honey, is everything alright?"

The playful glint in her eyes betrayed her. "My little (Y/N) is finally done with her crush on the Nott boy?" she teased, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

My cheeks burned. Forced cheer felt hollow on my tongue. "Mom, stop it! I was a child."

Memories flooded back – seven-year-old me, a torrent of tears streaming down my face, demanding to know why I couldn't marry Theo. "Why can't you just ask Dad to talk to Mr. Nott and arrange something? We'll be perfect together!" I'd sobbed, clinging to her leg. Mom had knelt then, wiping away my tears, and promised she'd think about it when I grew up.

A soft sigh escaped her lips as she leaned down to kiss my cheek. "Alright, sweetie. I'll get your back tonight. Have fun at your book club."

The irony wasn't lost on me. Here I was, meticulously applying a full face of makeup and curling my hair into perfect waves for a nonexistent book club. My reflection in the mirror mocked me – glitter practically danced across my eyelids in the afternoon light, Crisscross Backless Ruched Glitter

Bodycon Dress a stark contrast to the sweatpants I'd worn all day.

But hey, desperate times called for desperate measures. My parents wouldn't question a night out if I looked the part, makeup a dead giveaway. It was a flimsy cover, but hopefully good enough.

Reaching for my lipstick holder, the answer was clear as day. Red. Classic, bold, unapologetic red. It was the perfect armor for the night – a stark reminder to myself that beneath the hurt, beneath the carefully constructed lie, I was still (Y/N). The same girl who knew what she wanted and wasn't afraid to go after it. Maybe Theo didn't see me that way anymore, but that didn't mean I had to lose myself entirely.

Tonight, I was reclaiming my power, one red lip at a time.

Three clicks of the shutter button later, and I deemed myself a goddess incarnate. The glitter shimmered under the lamplight, the perfect complement to the bold red lip. Caption time. A mischievous grin tugged at my lips.

> Now he's thinkin' bout me every night, oh Is it that sweet? I guess so

"Well, hello again, Instagram," I muttered, hitting post with a flourish. It took less than a minute for the validation to flood in.

> @BlaiseZabini: it's me I'm him.

> @LanaNott: girllll save me please save me.

> @MattheoRiddle: who !? C d ?

@EnzoBerkshire: is he why you dumped all of us for (planning a murder).

@christiannott: pretty.

The school crowd joined in the comments their comments a mix of compliments and playful questions. I couldn't help but grin at Blaise, Mattheo, and Enzo's antics.

Just as I settled on popcorn and a night of "The Devil Wears Prada" indulgence, my phone buzzed with a notification I wasn't expecting – a DM. My heart hammered against my ribs. It was from him.

> Theo (hopefully future husband): what kind of bookclub are you at?

I cringed at the outdated nickname in my phone (quickly changing it to "Theodore Nott").

Ignoring the actual question (because seriously?), I left him in read and hit play on the movie. Let him stew in his curiosity for a while.

But just as Meryl Streep was delivering a particularly scathing line, my phone buzzed again. A new message from Theodore Nott.

> theo: answer Y/N

The audacity of this man! I rolled my eyes, grabbed a handful of popcorn, and with a triumphant smirk, sent a single reply: A middle finger emoji .

A blaring ringtone ripped me from a dream .Groaning, I fumbled for my phone, squinting at the caller ID. Lana.

"Hello?" I mumbled, my voice thick with sleep.

"Girl, what the heck? I knew there was something you were hiding! You gonna tell me everything when I arrive?"

I flopped back against the pillows, belatedly registering the popcorn scattered on the duvet and the movie paused mid-scene. My mom must have tucked me in after I dozed off.

"Sure," I mumbled, still foggy and not entirely sure what there was to tell Lana anyway.

"I told Chris he'd wait for you at eight," she chirped.

Eight? Panic jolted me awake. I fumbled for the clock – it was already six.

"Why'd you wake me up now then?" I whined, sleep clinging to me desperately.

"First, how could you sleep when your best friend is finally coming home? Two, because you're taking forever to get ready!"

I rolled my eyes, fighting the urge to sink back into the blissful oblivion of sleep. "Fine, fine," I conceded.

A quick shower later, I threw on a pair of comfy shorts and a t-shirt. Kissing my dad, who'd made a valiant effort to whip up breakfast ("Scrambled eggs are your favorite, right?").

My phone buzzed. Theodore Nott. My heart hammered against my ribs in a frantic rhythm. I looked from the window – his car, sleek and black, was parked at the curb. No sign of Christian's Porsche.

"What the…" I breathed, a mix of anger and confusion swirling in my gut.

"I need to go, Papa," I mumbled, throwing him a quick kiss.

Reaching his car, I yanked open the door. "What are you doing here?" I spat, my voice laced with ice.

Theo didn't even glance at me. "Get in or go inside. I don't have time for this."

"Where's Chris?" I demanded, my jaw clenching.

He finally met my gaze, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. "Business trip came up. Now get in."

There was no reasoning with him. With a silent snarl of frustration, I climbed into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut with enough force to make the fancy car wince. Not sure if Theo possessed human emotions, but I was pretty sure the love he had for his car was unquestionable.

"Great," he sighed, muttering a curse under his breath. It sounded suspiciously like "Accidenti!" – a mild Italian curse .

The rest of the ride was a tense standoff. I turned on the radio, defiant and childish, only for him to shut it off with a curt gesture. I shot him a fiery glare, then turned it back on, louder this time. The audacity of this man!

He cursed again, a string of angry Italian this time, but I drowned him out with the music, burying myself in my phone to avoid further interaction. The drive, thankfully, wasn't long and soon the familiar sight of the airport terminal loomed ahead.

Theo pulled into the airport garage, his face a mask of irritation. I flung open the door, slamming it shut for good measure. His glare was met with an equally icy stare from me. A quick glance at my watch told me it was 9:55 – hopefully Lana wouldn't make me wait too long. Anything was preferable to another minute in Theo's company.

Relief washed over me when I spotted her, a blur of pink and blonde hair bouncing through the arrivals gate. Her shriek echoed through the terminal as she launched herself at Theo, who caught her in a hug. They looked…comfortable. Happy.

"Look what I got you!" Lana exclaimed, pulling back and revealing a silver bracelet with a delicate Larus bird charm. It was beautiful. My gaze flickered to Theo, who offered a small smile.

"Do you like it?" she chirped, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

"Of course," Theo replied, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "It's perfect."

Then she was on me, engulfing me in a suffocating hug and babbling a mile a minute in a language that sounded suspiciously like excited Italian. It took a moment to decipher her words.

"Look! I got us matching Larus bird bracelets!" she chirped, holding up another identical bracelet.

I smiled as I took it from her, sliding it onto my wrist. "Thanks, Lana. It's beautiful."

"So, you took good care of her for me, like I asked?" Lana's voice turned teasing, her eyes flitting between Theo and me.

Before Theo could even open his mouth, I shot him a withering look. "You have no idea," I muttered, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Back in the car, Lana dominated the entire ride with a nonstop stream of chatter. I plastered a smile on my face and offered occasional nods, punctuated by the stolen glance at Theo in the rearview mirror.

Finally, we pulled into my driveway. Lana turned to me, bouncing with barely contained excitement. "Get some sleep, (Y/N)! We're all hitting the beach tonight – no excuses! We'll pick you up at ten, right Theo?"

My heart sank. Theo and I hadn't spoken a single word the entire ride, and the last thing I wanted was to spend another evening in his company.

"I—" I began, but Lana cut me off.

"No buts, (Y/N)! I'm serious," she said, her voice losing its playful edge. Her puppy-dog eyes were impossible to resist. Plus, the thought of disappointing her was unbearable.

With a forced smile, I nodded in agreement. "See you at ten," I mumbled, stepping out of the car I shut the car door with what I hoped was a significant bang (earning a "Hey!" from Theo and a giggle from Lana).

stormed up the steps and into my house. Reaching my room, I flung myself onto the bed and screamed into my pillow.

With a mission in mind, I flung open my dresser drawer. I pulled out the beach dress I'd bought with Mom, the one she'd teased me looked straight out of a goddess painting. "Playing Aphrodite?" she'd chuckled. Maybe a little Aphrodite action wouldn't hurt.

Packing was simple – a book for lounging, my makeup bag (waterproof mascara, a must!), sunscreen (just in case), and a water bottle. An extra layer? Nah, I was channeling beach goddess vibes today.

The pièce de résistance, however, was hidden beneath the dress – a hot pink bikini .

My phone buzzed on the nightstand – Lana calling. I swiped on another layer of lip gloss, the vibrant pink a perfect match for my mischievous mood.

Theo was already waiting by his car, a scowl etched on his face. I marched up to him, a mischievous glint in my eyes, and tossed the beach bag through the air. He caught it with a surprised grunt, his scowl deepening, a single word escaping my lips, "Catch."

A quick hug for Lana later, I slid into the backseat. Reaching for my phone, a notification from Marco, the cute Italian boy I'd met last year while visiting Italy , made me grin. He'd liked my recent post and even sent a DM.

"Hey, Lana," I began, tapping away at my phone, not taking my eyes off the screen as Theo threw the car into gear. "What does 'Mi sono perso nei tuoi occhi' mean?"

Lana's voice squeaked from the front seat. "Oh. My. God. He said… he said he's lost in your eyes! (Y/N), who on earth did you message?" Her voice rose in excitement, her body practically contorting as she tried to snatch a peek at my phone.

I playfully shoved her away as she tried to grab my phone for a closer look. "Stop it lan," I laughed, trying to mask the flutter in my stomach.

"Isn't a little soon to be moving on, (Y/N)?"

My jaw dropped, mirroring Lana's shocked expression in the rearview mirror. My eyes stung with a sudden wave of hurt. "What the actual—move on from what?" Lana sputtered, her voice a mix of outrage and disbelief.

"Can you mind your business, please?" I snapped at Theo, my voice tight with anger.

"Actually, it kind of is," he snapped back, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. "You're stuck with me for the entire day, remember?"

"Since when did you care about anything I did?"

The car swerved slightly as Theo tightened his grip on the wheel. "I care about you not getting hurt," he growled.

"Hurt? From a harmless compliment?" I spat. "Maybe you should worry more about the real hurt you caused, Theo."

Lana's voice cut through the tension, sharp and laced with genuine concern. "What? What do you mean, (Y/N)? What hurt did he cause?"

"I—" I started, the words catching in my throat."I didn't mean myself," the lie tasting bitter on my tongue.

He looked at me then, his gaze flickering to the tears welling up in my eyes.

I couldn't take it anymore. I grabbed my AirPods, the familiar comfort a lifeline in the storm. Cranking the volume to full blast, I shut out the world, focusing on the music that pulsed in my ears. I stared out the window, the world blurring into a watercolor mess.

The car jolted to a stop, and I practically leaped out before it even came to a complete halt. Grabbing my bag, I stormed towards the beach, the setting sun painting the sky in fiery hues. The familiar sight of the carnival near the shore grounded me slightly.

Enzo, was the first to spot me. He erupted in a whoop, and I practically dived into his welcoming embrace. The rest of the group soon followed, a cacophony of greetings washing over me.

Blaise, ambled towards me, a sheepish grin plastered on his face. I promptly blocked him with a hand on his chest. "You, Blaise, are officially banned from my life for at least another month."

"Come on, (Y/N)! I already took enough abuse on my beautiful face that night from that..." he trailed off, his eyes flicking towards Theo.

"Not a word," I hissed, cutting him off before he could spill the beans. "Don't you dare say a thing about it, or you're dead, Blaise. I swear."

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, quickly replaced by a resigned nod. "Alright, alright, secrets are safe with me." He slunk away, plopping down on the sand beside Enzo.

Across from me, Theo sat his gaze boring into me with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine. He kept staring,His gaze was intense, burning into mine like he could see right through me, so I used the tried and true method – a good old-fashioned middle finger.

He met my gesture with a head shake, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he lit a cigarette.

The sounds of laughter and chatter filled the air as our friends settled in for the evening. Inside, I felt a storm brewing – a mix of anger, hurt, and a strange, unidentifiable longing.

"Alright, guys! Who's up for truth or dare?" Lana's voice boomed, shattering the fragile peace.

"Childish," Mattheo scoffed.

"Pleeeease?" Lana pleaded, batting her eyelashes at him. He caved with a sigh, a lovesick smile playing on his lips.

"Actually, I have a bottle," I announced, reaching into my bag and pulling out my water bottle.

"Always prepared, sweet (Y/N)," Draco teased, blowing me a kiss. I countered with a playful air kiss.

"Not playing," Theo mumbled, blowing another smoke ring into the air.

"Coward," I whispered, not sure if he heard me. But apparently, he did.

"What did you say?" he challenged, his gaze hardening.

"Coward," I repeated, my voice gaining strength with each iteration. "Coward, coward, coward." I batted my eyelashes with a saccharine smile. "Want me to say it louder?"

"Okay, enough," Mattheo interjected, shooting a warning look at both of us. "You're playing, and you're going to stop."

Enzo, grabbed the bottle from me. "Let's get this party started, then! Spin it!"

The bottle wobbled and spun, finally landing on Lana with a triumphant thud.

"Truth or dare?" Enzo grinned.

"Dare!" she declared, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"I dare you to reveal one of (Y/N)'s secrets," he challenged, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Lana's jaw dropped.

"It's okay, Lani," I mumbled, "Choose whatever you want, babe. No secrets here."

"Holy moly, you're not scared?" Blaise exclaimed, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"I don't regret anything I do," I declared, holding Theo's gaze. "If it was a secret, it means I didn't want it out there enough. So, not worth keeping."

My defiance sent a smirk across my face, but inside, I was a mess. Theo muttered a barely audible curse under his breath.

Lana, ever the drama queen, paused for effect. "Well, you definitely have a thing for Italian! You might not have said it, but I just know..." she leaned in conspiratorially, "...saying one simple phrase in Italian would have you blushing like crazy, thinking it's a marriage proposal."

A roar of laughter erupted from the group, even Theo cracking a small smile.

"Buongiorno, bella," Blaise cooed in his best Italian accent, earning another round of laughter and a playful shove from me.

We continued playing truth or dare, the mood a strange mix of tension and laughter. The bottle finally landed on Blaise, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

He leaned in, his voice barely a whisper, "Remember our little agreement, (Y/N)?" I pursed my lips, silently mouthing, "Don't cross the line." He winked, then addressed me in a louder voice, "Truth or dare?"

"Dare," I declared, a defiant edge to my voice.

"I dare you to take your dress off " he started, his voice trailing off dramatically.

A collective groan went up, except for Mattheo who smirked, and Enzo who playfully swatted Blaise's shoulder.

"What are you? a ten years old? You think I'd run away crying?" I challenged, a spark of defiance igniting within me. In one swift motion, I slipped out of the flowy beach dress, revealing the hot pink bikini underneath.

A low whistle escaped Blaise's lips. "Damn, girl! No wonder poor Cedric stood no chance. You could've driven him crazy with that bod."

I winked at him, relishing the surprised look on Lana's face. "Something to consider," I joked, trying to mask the storm of emotions brewing inside.

Theo, however, seemed less amused. "For f*ck's sake," he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with a hint of something I couldn't decipher.

Blaise smirked. "What's wrong, Theo? Can't handle the heat?"

For a second, I thought Theo was going to kill him. He clenched his jaw, his gaze burning into Blaise. "Just finish this stupid game already," he growled.

The tension was thick enough to choke on, and I decided to take back control. I snatched the bottle, spinning it with a flick of my wrist. As if mocking me, it landed squarely on Theo.

"Truth or dare?" I asked, my voice steady despite the tremor in my heart. Meeting his gaze was like looking into a stormy sea – the pain, confusion, and maybe even a flicker of longing swirling within.

"Truth," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Do you regret anything… right now?" Each word felt like a shard of glass in my throat, but I forced them out.

He held my gaze for an agonizing moment, then let out a ragged breath. "No," he finally said.

The answer hit me like a physical blow. It was the confirmation of what I'd already suspected, yet it still managed to shatter the fragile hope that had flickered within me.

We played two more rounds, the air heavy with unspoken words. Lana, seemingly oblivious to the tension, had dozed off, her head resting on my lap.

"I'm taking her to bed," Theo announced, bending down to scoop her up gently.

The sunrise was painting the sky in vibrant hues of orange and pink, casting long shadows on the beach. I closed my eyes, needing an escape from the whirlwind of emotions. "Going for a swim," I mumbled, a hollow ache settling in my chest.

Without waiting for a response, I raced towards the water, the cool waves washing over me as I plunged into the ocean. The salty water stung my eyes, but I didn't bother to brush it away. Here, in the vastness of the ocean, I could finally let go of the facade of bravado and let the tears flow freely.

I swam until my muscles screamed in protest. Exhausted but strangely calm, I watched as the others retreated to the house, leaving me alone with the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. Pushing the wet hair out of my face, I waded back to the beach, shivering as the cool morning air hit my damp skin.

Walking towards the back of the house, the first rays of sunlight warmed my back. I turned a corner, and just like that, I slammed into a solid wall of muscle. It was Theo.

I stumbled back, heart hammering against my ribs. "What are you doing here?" I snapped, the anger a shield against the vulnerability I refused to show.

"Enough, (Y/N). Stop this foolish game," he said, his voice low and intense.

"Foolish game? Don't you dare call my life a game, Theo," I spat, fury bubbling up inside me.

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to grab my waist. Before I could react, he'd captured both my wrists in one of his large hands. He was close, so close I could feel the heat radiating off his body, his cologne a familiar scent that sent a shiver down my spine.

My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs, caught between the fear of getting hurt again and the undeniable pull I felt towards him.

"That?" he said, his voice laced with frustration as his gaze flickered down to the pink bikini clinging to my curves. "Is this what you're doing? Whoring yourself out?"

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "Whoring myself out?" I mocked him. "Why do you even care, Theo? You made it perfectly clear you don't give a damn what I do, who I'm with, how I act."

He looked at me, his jaw clenched tight. "You will go inside," he said, his voice a low growl. "You will stop whatever you are doing, and you will not… whore yourself out like that again. Understood?"

The possessiveness in his voice, the way his gaze lingered on my body, sent a jolt through me. But I wouldn't let him control me.

I yanked my hands free, taking a step back. "You have no right to tell me what to do."

His eyes narrowed, but then he shifted his gaze, and for a fleeting moment, it landed on my lips. My breath hitched, my body reacting instinctively to his silent scrutiny.

He cleared his throat, the tension in the air crackling like electricity. "Y/N," he warned, his voice a husky whisper.

Then, before I could even process what was happening, he leaned in.

A mischievous grin spread across my face. "Were you watching me swim?" I asked, tilting my head up to meet his gaze.

He didn't answer, his jaw clenched tight. But something in his eyes, a flicker of heat, betrayed him.

"Just making sure you didn't drown," he finally muttered, his voice gruff.

I couldn't help myself. I burst out laughing. "So that's why you're so… hard right now?" I teased, my voice dripping with playful innocence.

He glared at me, but there was a hint of something else in his eyes.”No,”.

I could feel the tension between us, thick and palpable. Theo's breathing was ragged, his words barely coherent as I teased him, my hand brushing over his stomach under his t-shirt.

"Are you sure?" I whispered, fluttering my lashes at him with a practiced innocence.

"Yeah," he managed to force out, his voice rough and unsteady. I saw his Adam's apple bob with a swallow as my hand grazed lower, sending a jolt through him.“Fuck y/n”

A smirk played on my lips as I traced a finger along his jawline. "Is that what you say when you… touch yourself?" I teased, my voice dripping with a sweetness that seemed foreign on my tongue. "Do you think of me?"

He looked at me, his gaze intense, his reply barely a gasp. "No."

"No?" I feigned surprise, leaning in closer. "So, you don't want me to help you now?" I purred, my voice dropping to a seductive murmur. "You don't want me to…" I trailed off.

"Get on my knees, right here, right now?" I finished suggestively.

He didn't respond, his breathing ragged and shallow. I pressed on, my voice dropping to a husky whisper. "I would let you," I breathed,"I would let you take me right here, right now. You could do whatever you wanted to me, anything at all."``

"Would you want me to do that?" I whispered, feeling his hand grip the wall for support.

I grabbed his hand and put on the heat between my thighs. A sharp gasp escaped my lips as his fingers grazed me, sending a jolt of electricity through my body. "See, I'm so wet already," I breathed, he leaned down, urgency in his kiss. I met him halfway, the taste of him both familiar and forbidden.

We broke apart, gasping for air. Before his lips could find mine again, I distracted him, freeing one hand and guiding his face towards the sensitive skin of my neck. His lips and tongue danced across the exposed flesh, sending shivers down my spine.

With his hair caught in my hand, I pulled his head back, then sank to my knees in front of him. Looking up at him, I whispered, "Can I, please?"

"Fuck," he muttered, nodding reluctantly.

I unbuttoned his jeans, looking up at him as I lowered his boxers. "You're so hard, Theo," I remarked, meeting his gaze. "It must be painful, isn't it?"

As I took him in, I continued in a feigned innocence, "You know, I've never done this before, Theo. Never been on my knees like this for someone before."

"But I'll do it for you," I whispered, locking eyes with him. "Because I'll do anything for you, even if you hurt me. I don't care."

I wrapped my lips around the head of his cock, feeling him twitch in response. He cursed, and I pulled away, planting soft kisses along his length. "So, you didn’t think of me doing that when you masturbate?" I asked, my voice teasing.

"I did—fuck, I did, and I hated myself for that," he confessed, his voice strained with desire.

I started to slide my mouth down his shaft, tasting the salty precum that had already leaked out. He moaned, his hands tangling in my hair as I took him deeper, swirling my tongue around him.

"Oh, fuck,", his praise spurring me on. "That feels so good, baby. You're so good at this."

I started to move my head up and down, taking him deeper with each stroke. I could feel him getting harder in my mouth, and I knew he was enjoying this.

"Yes, just like that," Theo said, his voice strained.

I started to suck harder, using my tongue to tease the sensitive skin of his cock. I could feel him getting closer to the edge, and I knew I had to keep going.

I wrapped my hand around the base of his cock, my fingers gripping him tightly as I began to move my head back and forth. I took him deeper, feeling his cock hit the back of my throat. I could feel him pulsing in my mouth, and I knew he was about to cum.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he groaned, his grip in my hair tightening.

I continued, sucking harder and faster, bringing him to the edge. But just as he was about to release, I pulled away abruptly.

"What —what the fuck?"

I stood up, pushing my hair back with a smirk. "So, you believed that?" I asked, seeing the confusion and frustration in his eyes.

"Believed what?" he asked, breathing heavily and clearly confused.

"That night, did you actually believe what I said?" I taunted, tracing his face lightly with my fingertips. "I just said what I had to get what I wanted, Theo. And it worked. I had you. It was… fun."

I continued, reveling in the power shift, "so actually you were one of my boys, all wrapped around my finger."

"I would pull my jeans up if I were you," I advised with a finality that hung heavy in the air.

Every word that tumbled out of my mouth was a lie, a carefully woven tapestry of deceit designed to inflict the same searing pain I felt. I wanted him to see himself reflected in the cruel mirror of my words, to understand the depth of the wound he'd left gaping in my heart.

I turned away, heading back to the house and eventually to the shared room with Lana. Once in the bathroom, I started the shower and sank to the ground, my legs giving out beneath me, as I let out a sob that wracked my entire body. The pain of his rejection, the guilt of my actions, the hurt of my unrequited love – it all came crashing down upon me in a wave of despair.

The drive home was a suffocating silence, punctuated only by the rhythmic hum of the engine. I'd fabricated a story about catching the flu, needing to rest. The lietasted acrid on my tongue, but facing Lana, facing anyone, felt impossible.

Back in my room, the familiar walls seemed to close in on me. I sank onto the bed, burying myself in the covers. Theo's calls came one after another, his texts a constant reminder of the conversation left hanging. "We need to talk," they pleaded, each message a fresh wave of guilt crashing over me.

The sting of betrayal still lingered, but today, I craved solace. Seeking refuge in a familiar spot, I found myself nestled amongst the vibrant blooms near the bridge. Here, the gentle murmur of the water and the sweet scent of flowers offered a temporary escape.

Time seemed to blur as I sat there, lost in thought. Then, a shadow fell across me. Startled, I looked up to find Theo's hesitant gaze. Surprise momentarily rendered me speechless.

"Can I sit?" he asked, his voice laced with a vulnerability I hadn't seen before. A silent nod was all I could manage.

He lowered himself beside me, leaning back against the tree trunk. The silence between us was thick, heavy with unspoken emotions. My gaze drifted across the field, a silent plea for him to break the tension.

"The night before it happened…" he began, his voice thick with emotion, "I promised your brother I'd take care of you."

My head snapped towards him, surprise etching across my face.

"I promised," he continued, meeting my gaze. "That's why I tried so hard to push you away. I couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to you, of failing him."

A wave of guilt washed over me. "Theo…" I began, but he cut me off, his hand reaching out to clasp mine.

"It didn't work, though, did it?" he said, a wry smile playing on his lips. "I told myself I should only see you as a sister, but I couldn't. And that scared me. So I tried to push you away, as much as it hurt me"

"it did hurt me too y/n," he admitted. "The moment you kissed me…everything changed. I didn’t know you felt the same. It, and it scared me. I needed to regain control."

A lump formed in my throat as he revealed his turmoil. "Then the kiss," he continued, his voice barely a rasp. "Everything changed. I didn't know you felt that way, and I panicked. Tried to regain control."

A tear escaped, tracing a glistening path down my cheek. "When Blaise brought you in... this night" he continued, his eyes searching mine, "I was a wreck. I felt like I'd betrayed your brother, tainted something so pure."

"What I did after, it was unfair. Unforgivable. You're not just another girl, Y/N. You're the only one. The only one I want. And even if it takes a lifetime to make things right, I will. Because I love you. I can't hide it anymore."

Tears welled up in my eyes, threatening to spill over. "I didn't mean anything I said at the beach," I confessed. "I just... I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me."

He reached out, his hand gently cupping my face. "We messed up," i said, "We hurt each other."

Tears escaped, tracing warm paths down my cheeks. "But maybe we can fix it," I whispered, a sliver of hope flickering within me.

He brushed away my tears, his touch so soft . "I deserve the pain," he say,"But you don't. I'm so sorry, Y/N. So sorry for everything."

A bittersweet smile spread across my face. "I love you too," I confessed, the words tumbling out like a long-held secret. It felt surreal, a dream come true whispered on the wind.

He leaned in slowly, his lips brushing mine in a soft, tentative kiss. It was a perfect collision of emotions – tenderness, passion, and a promise of a new beginning. He deepened the kiss, pulling me onto his lap, our bodies aligning perfectly.

When he pulled away, his eyes sparkled with an intensity that sent a jolt through me. "Give me a chance," he pleaded. "To make things right. I'll never hurt you again. I don't deserve forgiveness, but I'm begging for it. Please, let me make it up to you."

"I forgave you already," I admitted, "but can you say it again? Just to be sure I didn't imagine it."

A smile, genuine and heartfelt, softened his features. He leaned back in, his lips whispering the words against mine, "I love you, Y/N L/N."

My heart soared. "I think I might die happy right now," I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Suddenly, a nagging thought surfaced. "But what about Lana? We need to tell her."

Theo's smile faltered for a moment. "Believe me, she knows," he said with a sigh. "Apparently, she's celebrating you being her 'sister' and even thanked me for it."

I couldn't help but laugh. It sounded like something Lana would do. "Of course, that sounds like her,"

Suddenly, a playful glint sparked in his eyes. "Now," he drawled, a hint of jealousy lacing his voice, "about that Italian boy?"

I couldn't help but burst into laughter. Leaning in, I wrapped my arms around him, burying my face in his chest. "There's nothing to worry about," I mumbled against his shirt.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through me. "Good," he said, his arms tightening around me in a possessive hug. "Because I was planning a little trip to Italy."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

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[deramin2]

A Quick Guide To Getting Caught Up On Critical Role Fast

This guide is for people who want the fastest way official to get caught up on all 3 Critical Role campaigns without seeing the full actual play episodes. They're all made so that the AP will still be enjoyable later even if you know what happens. There's no "right" way to get into the series, and already having an idea of what happens can even help make the APs more enjoyable and easier to understand.

Summary:

The Legend of Vox Machina

Crit Recap Animated

Exandria: An Intimate History

Critical Role Abridged

Guide:

Campaign 1:

The Legend of Vox Machina on Amazon Prime is the animated adaptation of C1 by the same creators. Sam Riegel said the creative approach is this was the version in av later play. All the important bits are there, but they get to those moments differently.

The Legend of Vox Machina has 3 seasons out now that cover events up through at least episode 85. A 4th season is in the works and will probably cover the final arc.

Campaign 2:

An animated adaptation for Amazon Prime called "Mighty Nein" is in the works, but not out yet.

Crit Role Animated is an older comedic summary series presented by their Lore Keeper that covers the whole campaign in 10 videos. Great if you want the gist.

It's like a history crash course history video meant to get you curious to learn the full story later. Great way to get a sense of who people are and what they've done. Available on YouTube and their streaming platform Beacon.

Exandrian History Review:

Exandria: An Intimate History is a timeline review of key events in world history, starting from the creation.

It was released before Campaign 3 as bonus content. It represents what the average person in Exandria knows about world history up to that point.

Campaign 3:

Critical Role Abridged is the Campaign 3 AP condensed down into 1 to 1.5 hours. It mostly cuts down combat to the narrated results and reduces table chatter and indecisiveness. It's a great way to experience the full campaign.

Critical Role Abridged is coming out 1 a week at a time on YouTube and 2 a week on Beacon. YouTube is currently up to episode 25. Beacon is up to episode 47. The AP is at episode 109. At some point you'll have to switch to full episodes to catch up.

Wiki:

There's also 2 world-class wikis where's you can look up extensive and meticulously cited information about anything you need. I prefer The Encyclopedia Exandria.

Viewing Notes:

An important thing to know about "continuity" in Critical Role is that it takes a more realistic view of how history is passed down through the ages and even dedicated academics will never know the full story or be fully correct. They know versions colored by in-world biases and lost knowledge.

Which is great for you the viewer because any campaign you comes into, the characters don't know most of what happened in past games. What they actually know will come up in game. The players have above table reactions and some subtle in jokes, but try not to act on meta knowledge.

It's structured a lot like reading one history book and then wanting to go back and read more about past events that set the stage for all those things to happen. They've tried to make it easier to come into the story happening now.

I certainly enjoyed watching the full APs from the beginning, and I think you can get a deeper understanding of the story from them, but it takes thousands of hours to catch up on the story that way and it isn't realistic for everyone. Each series builds on the consequences of past events more than they rely on unexpected twists, so already knowing what happens just helps you notice all the little things that led to them. Similar to how Shakespeare's plays are often more enjoyable to watch unfold if you already know the basic plot points going into them.

Happy viewing, and I hope this helps you or someone you know get into this very rich and interesting story!

[lady-raziel]

yeah fuck it i'm not done with my fanfic rant. it's very very clear that many of the people out there saying 'i don't read fanfic because its not canon and its poorly written'...have never really, truly spent the time to interact with fanfiction. it's kind of like they heard all the bad criticisms of fan writing, and just assumed they were true and never bothered to check for themselves.

yes, there are fanfics that are poorly written. yes, there are fanfics that are just porn. yes, there are even fanfics that are alternate universes of canon that may even have OOC characterizations. all of these things are true, and pretty much every fanfic enjoyer will agree with you.

but the point of fanfiction. the whole point is that you have to search around and find what you like. because for some reason, canon isn't doing it for you. or you just want to know what someone else's interpretation of how things could have happened is!

there are brilliant fanfictions. there are truly amazing, incredibly written fanfictions that take the good parts of a story and make them better. there are fanfictions better than actual published works that are better plotted out and researched than anything canon has to offer. but you have to FIND these fanfics, whether through recs or by searching yourself.

the people who say all fanfic is bad and poorly written seem to live with the expectation that good media will simply be handed to them and they can consume it unquestioningly. regardless of the slew of bad books, shows, and movies that exist and are thrown at us on a daily basis. would you really go so far as to say 'all tv shows have poor writing' because it took trying to watch several bad shows in your streaming recommendations to find one you liked? or do you really, honestly think that because something was made with profit in mind it inherently has better quality and more value than something made out of passion?

fanfic haters, find the love in your heart to engage with media you love outside of the context of it being sold to you. you may even find a gem among the coal that makes you love the original property even more.

[babybluebex]

venus pt.2 | angus tully x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you and angus pilfer from the chapel on your first night alone together at barton, and, after angus gets hurts and drags you into his lie, you're reminded of the worst moment of your life. not to worry, though; angus manages to soothe your sorrows, while simultaneously confusing the hell out of you. PART 2 OF ? (14k words) 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: angus tully (the holdovers, 2023) x fem!reader 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: canon compliance (this is a complete rewrite of the film, just with the added reader insert), lots of swearing, 70s ideals about feminism (which YES is a warning), mentions of grief/loss, drug use and drinking, graphic descriptions of injuries, a tiny little morsel of fake dating yum yum, is anyone else familiar with the spider game grumps bit? spider punch! spider kick! spider...? 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: icymi, i'm splitting this fic up into several smaller parts, just bc i'm not sure tumblr will actually let me post one big chunk of text the way i wanted to (it might exceed the character limit eesh) ((also i didn't wanna make yall wait forever for another part of this hehe)) if i missed any warnings/tags, pls dm me and let me know if you think i should add something! other than that, thank u for ur patience and enjoy!

The first evening of just you and Angus alone felt like an extended stint in hell. He was still cold and bitter, hardly speaking at all at dinner, and it made your skin crawl. You hated the silence, the feeling like you had done something wrong, even though you knew that you hadn’t, and, after dinner, in the television room, you sat next to Mary as Angus sat away from everyone else, trying to pretend like he was reading. You knew better than that, though; every time you chanced a look at him, his eyes weren’t following the lines on the page and he looked… Tired. Staring off into space, obviously lost in thought. 

He only spoke when Hunham mentioned something about writing a monograph, inquiring why Hunham didn’t just write a full book, and Hunham laughed at him. “I’m not sure I have a whole book in me,” Hunham chuckled, and Mary gave you a forlorn look, reading your mind. 

“You can’t even dream a whole dream, can you?” Mary mumbled, and Hunham fixed his jaw firmly but said nothing in return. 

The room at night was cold and lonely. You put on a sweater and two pairs of sweatpants before you slid into bed, looking out the window at the inky black night. Every so often, you would hear the wind howl outside and see fat snowflakes pass by the window, and eventually your eyes slipped closed, and you drifted off into an uneasy, blank sleep. 

It felt like moments later that you heard a whispering shuffle, and a sudden hiss of your name roused you. You winced at the light that streamed through the ajar door from the hallway, and you squinted to see Angus’s silhouette. “What d’ya want?” you mumbled groggily. 

“Come on,” Angus said, jerking his head towards the hallway. His hair was messy, wearing his winter coat, and your sight drifted down to his hands to see him carrying a large, silver flashlight, and— 

“Are those— Why do you have Hunham’s keys?” you groaned. 

“Just come on!” Angus huffed. 

You reached over to the little table beside your bed and snatched up your wristwatch, and you squeezed the button on the side to turn the little light on to see the time. “Fuck, Angus, it’s like four in the morning!” you groaned. “Fuck off!” 

“C’mon, you won’t regret it,” Angus told you. “Put on your coat and shoes, let’s go.” 

For some reason, you did as he told you, lacing up your sneakers and shrugging on your jacket, and you followed Angus as he led you out of the infirmary, sneaking past Hunham’s open door. You heard his snoring from inside, but you didn’t stop, catching up with Angus’s long-legged stride. He shined the flashlight down the dark hallways of the school, not speaking a word to you as he led you to the kitchen. It was pitch-black in there, even with the flashlight, but Angus moved with certainty, taking you to the big freezer towards the back of the room. You almost wanted to question him, ask exactly what the fuck he thought he was doing, but you stayed quiet as he wrenched the freezer door open. 

“Go grab a spoon,” he told you as he winced in the fluorescent lights inside the freezer. 

“What for?” you asked. 

“You remember that ice cream they gave us at the start of the semester?” Angus asked. You nodded slowly, remembering how dinner on the first day of classes had included individual scoops of vanilla ice cream; it was unusual and special, but you remembered not having eaten it and turning it over to Teddy. You followed Angus’s gaze into the freezer, and you spotted the cardboard tub of vanilla ice cream, sitting and waiting. 

You furrowed your eyebrows, but you slinked back into the kitchen and used the light of the freezer to find a single spoon, an oversized serving spoon. “Won’t we get in trouble?” you asked, passing the spoon to Angus, and he pulled the tub of ice cream into his grip and wrestled the lid off. The carton itself was frosted over, freezer-burnt to all hell, but Angus still attacked the mound of ice cream with the spoon. He scooped it into his mouth, and he wrinkled his nose as he shook his head. 

“I doubt it,” he replied. “How will they ever know? And by the time they figured out someone’s eaten out of here, they’ll never be able to trace it back to us.” 

“Woah, us?” you repeated. “What ‘us’? You’re the one going to town on that right now.” 

Angus looked at you with those almond-shaped dark eyes of his, and you scoffed at the little white splotches of ice cream on the corner of his lips. “We can change that,” Angus said, offering you the spoon. 

You shook your head. “I don’t eat ice cream,” you told him. 

“So, that’s what your fuckin’ problem is,” Angus chuckled. “You’re not judgmental or anything like that; you’re just low on joy.” 

“Fuck off,” you said as you rolled your eyes. 

“C’mon,” Angus said. “Blood oath or whatever… Except it’s vanilla ice cream.”

Your chest roiled. It felt like a petty thing, not to eat ice cream anymore, but you couldn’t help it. It just felt too bad. The memories were too hard, and even the experience of eating what you had been in that dreadful moment was too much. You remembered it like it was yesterday; your dad had taken you to Dairy Queen, which wasn’t unusual in itself, but the fact that your sisters weren’t with you was odd. After all, you supposed with hindsight, he wasn’t their dad; just yours. He had his typical ice cream sandwich while you had a cone, and he had walked on eggshells as he explained to you what the word “draft” meant. It was hardly two years ago, you were old enough to know what it meant. You chose not to remember the rest of that night, but you stayed steadfast— you hadn’t eaten ice cream since. 

“What sorta blood oath?” you asked warily. 

Angus shrugged. “If you don’t kill me over the next two weeks, I won’t kill you,” he said. 

You quirked your mouth for a moment, trying to convey to him that you were considering it. “I told you, I don’t eat ice cream,” you said as you crossed your arms. 

“Is this some kinda girl thing I don’t get?” Angus asked. “Depriving yourself of dessert or whatever?” 

“I’m lactose intolerant, you dick,” you fibbed quickly. “Sorry if I don’t want an upset stomach at four in the morning.” 

“Suit yourself,” he said, going back for another bite. “It’s really mediocre.” That got a laugh out of you, and Angus smiled. 

He gave up on the ice cream soon after that, putting it back and washing off the spoon (“Getting rid of the evidence”, he said), and you dug your hands into the pocket of your coat. “Is that it?” you asked, and Angus laughed. 

“No, man,” he said. “I got more.” 

“Jesus,” you groaned, but, for some reason, you followed him out to the hall and down the corridors. It was still dark outside, and Angus fumbled with the keys and flashlight as you approached the door to the chapel. “Alright, whatever you’re planning to do in here, I’m nearly certain I don’t wanna be a part of it.” 

“You know they’ve got wine in here?” Angus asked, passing off the flashlight to you so he could find the correct key. 

“Duh,” you said. “Catholics really buzz off wine in communion.” 

“Didn’t your old church use wine?” Angus asked. He tried a key on the door, then frowned when it didn’t fit, and moved onto the next option. 

“No,” you said. “We didn’t go to church. Only when we visited my dad’s mom, which wasn’t often, but her church used Fanta Grape.” 

“What sorta church did your grandma go to?” Angus scoffed. “Church of the High Fructose Corn Syrup?” 

“It was mostly flat by the time it got to us, anyway,” you said. “Dad and I usually sat in the back, so he could slip out and smoke mid-service.” 

“Smart man,” Angus said. He tried another key, succeeding this time, and the heavy door swung open. It was dark inside the small room, a sort of storage room for the chapel, and the beam of the flashlight hit various pieces of junk scattered around, boxes or whatnot, before it landed on a small credenza pressed against the wall. There was some sort of ceremonial tapestry on the surface, a large ornate goblet on top with a dusty bottle of wine sitting next to it. “Bingo,” Angus mumbled, and he went to the lightswitch on the wall, flicking it on so he could turn off the flashlight. The overhead light crackled and buzzed as it came on, and Angus ushered you inside before shutting the door again. 

He was quick to fill the goblet partways with the wine, and he offered it to you silently. At first you hesitated— did you really feel like drinking wine with Angus?— and you quickly grabbed the goblet from his hand and took a sip. You held your face stony, not offering a reaction, and you passed it back to him. “Well?” he asked, and you shrugged. 

“It’s fine,” you replied. “Are there any of those Body of Christ crackers in here?” 

Angus gestured towards the heavy furniture against the wall, a sorta “Look for yourself” movement, and he went for the wine as you started through the cabinet. He gave a little shudder at the bitter sourness, then shrugged for himself and took another sip. “Not bad,” he mumbled. You quickly found the tub of little round wafers, and you worked the lid off as you sat down on the floor. You offered him one, which he shook his head at, and he took another sip of wine as he sat down next to you. He leaned up against the side of the credenza while you settled against the wall, and you put a wafer in your mouth, letting it melt a little against your tongue. “What would your body and blood be?” you asked. 

“Huh?” Angus grunted. 

“Like, Jesus’s body are these rice paper crackers, and his blood is cheap wine,” you explained. “So what would yours be?” 

Angus furrowed his eyebrows as he thought. “Well, blood is easy,” he said. “A beer.” You scoffed, and Angus quickly said, “No, no, listen, hear me out. You’ve had a beer before, right?” 

“Of course,” you replied. 

“Well then, you understand,” Angus sighed. “A nice beer on a hot day… The glass of the bottle is all cold and everything and it’s sweating a little and the weird foam label is tearing from the condensation… Isn’t that, like, a godly experience?” 

“Sure,” you giggled. “So, beer for the blood. And the body?” 

Angus screwed up his mouth as he considered it, and he finally said, “How about, like, a cheeseburger?” 

“Really?” you asked, popping another cracker in your mouth. “Why?” 

“It works good with the beer,” Angus said. He reached over to you and stole a cracker, and he chewed on it as he said, “Beer and a burger? What’s better than that? Brings you closer to God and shit like that, right?” 

“I mean…” you mumbled. “Yeah, that makes sense. So, taking communion, you do a shot of beer and… What? Take a bite of a burger?” 

“Sure,” Angus snickered. “Or a slider, like at a barbeque.” 

You laughed, and you reached out to grab at the glass of wine in Angus’s hands. He passed it to you, and you took a sip of it as Angus exchanged for another cracker. “What about you?” he asked. “What’s your body and blood?” 

“Hmm,” you murmured. Your body shuddered at the warm bitterness of the wine, and you coughed a little. “A hot coffee.” 

“Ew,” Angus sneered. “You drink coffee?”

“Not always,” you said. “Only when I need to warm up. It’s too bitter. But, like, the way your beer is relieving to you, a hot coffee is relieving to me. The same, but different, y’know?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Angus said. “Like, coming in from playing in the snow and your fingers are all stiff and cold or whatever… My mom always made us hot chocolate that was pretty much just heavy cream and cocoa powder and some sugar. We’d dip graham crackers in it and sit by the fire and listen to Christmas records…” He trailed off then, and you caught onto his train of thought— used to. Not this year. 

“Us?” you asked. “You got a sister or something?” 

“No,” Angus said. “My, um… My dad.” 

“Oh,” you mumbled. “Right. Sorry” 

“What do you mean ‘sorry’?” Angus said. 

“Well, a few days ago, when everyone left,” you started in confusion. “You said your dad died.” 

The room was quiet for a beat, and Angus shifted as he sat, pulling one of his legs underneath himself. “No,” he said carefully. “No, um… Dad’s still hanging out, but he’s… He’s in the hospital. For, like, the past four years. He’s as good as dead.” 

“Shit,” you mumbled. “What happened?” 

Angus shrugged, quirking his mouth. “He got sick,” he said simply. “And Mom thought it would be better to have professionals take care of him instead of us…”

“M’sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to pry or anything.” 

“You’re fine,” Angus said. “So, your dad…?”

You nodded solemnly. “His number came up,” you said softly. “He… Had something to prove, I guess, and no reason to try to get out of it. Told me he was gonna go and make me proud of him…” Your throat got thick then, and you trailed off for a moment. “January’s gonna be one year since…”  

“Jesus Christ,” Angus said under his breath. “Sorry.”

You quickly wiped at an escaped tear, trying to get rid of it before Angus could see it, and you choked down a cracker. “It’s whatever,” you said. “These things happen, y’know?” 

“Yeah, they happen,” Angus said. “But that doesn’t make them any less sad.” 

“I don’t care about sad,” you said. “Been too sad lately. All I want is to stop feeling sad.” 

Angus tilted his head at you, watching for a moment, and he started to dig into the pocket of his coat. Quietly, he extracted something, a sort-of crushed up cigarette that looked like it had fallen out of the pack and had been jostled in his pocket for months, and he held it out to you. You clocked it immediately, though— the paper too thin, the contents too packed in. You scoffed with a watery voice, twisting at a loose thread on your jacket. “Wow, you really are a Barton boy, huh?” you said. “Getting high and drinking holy wine in the chapel.” 

“If it makes you feel better, it’s not mine,” Angus said. 

“Whose is it, then?” you asked. “And how did you come to have it?” 

“Ah, well,” Angus shrugged. “Kountze the Cunt’s always had it coming for him. I steal his cigarettes, he steals my picture, I steal his last joint out of his bag before he leaves to go ski. What’s that called? Quid pro quo?” 

“That’s not really what quid pro quo is,” you laughed. “But I don’t have a lighter. And, furthermore, I don’t smoke weed. Especially not Kountze’s shit.” 

“I’ve got the lighter situation covered,” Angus said. He went back into his pocket and extracted a small matchbook, and he added, “And, yeah, you don’t smoke weed, but I’m not even sure this is weed. Knowing Kountze, it’s probably oregano or tea leaves or something. So, smoking this isn’t smoking weed, because there’s a fair chance it’s not weed.” 

You pursed your lips as you considered Angus’s offer, and you looked at the ornate goblet in your hands, still a little full. “Fine,” you decided. “But not here. We’re not gonna hotbox the chapel storage room.” 

“Aw, we’re not?” Angus whined jokingly. “I really think that’ll give us God points.” 

“Yeah, sure,” you chuckled. “Get enough of them, and you can redeem them for a free large soda at the check-out counter.” 

You helped each other drain the last of the wine out of the cup, and you pocketed a handful of crackers as you exited the room. Angus did well to lock up behind him, to make sure nothing seemed awry or unusual on the off-chance that Hunham checked the grounds, and Angus led you through the school to the main interior entrance to the chapel. It was as cold in there as it was outside, and still just as dark, and your eyes adjusted to the low light as Angus took a running leap at the raised stage, hopping up there with ease. You followed suit, though not as quickly or gracefully as Angus, and you settled on the piano bench next to him. His long, thin fingers worked to strike one of the matches on the edge of the matchbox, and he brought the flame to the joint nestled between his lips. 

You had never really noticed before (because when would you have ever noticed it before?) but Angus had a tiny scar on his upper lip, not really that raised or any different color than the rest of his lip, but it shifted as he puckered his lips around the joint. Come to think of it, Angus’s lips looked… Good? Wrapped around the joint, his lips looked plush and soft, just a hint pinker and darker than the golden-olive tones of his face. And the middle of his top lip poked out a little bit, a bit more pronounced because of his scar. Angus pulled at the joint for a moment before removing it from between his lips, and he offered it to you, and you fixed your expression from focusing on his lips to looking him in the eyes. “Well?” you asked. “Is it marijuana?”

“No,” Angus said. “Well, yes, but it’s Kountze’s ditch weed. So, technically yes, but you’d need to smoke a lot of it to get high.”

“Lemme see,” you said quickly, reaching out for the joint, and he passed it to you. You had only ever smoked once before, back when you went to Central, and you had gotten dizzy and sick, but, as you pulled a toke on this joint, you felt nothing of the sort. Sure, there was that weird herby taste in the back of your throat that made it unmistakingly weed, and you cringed as you blew out the smoke. “Oh, this is shitty,” you chuckled. “Like, super shitty. God, Teddy, where’d you buy this?” 

“He only has it to sell to eighth-graders,” Angus shrugged. “Make a quick buck to buy Playboys with.” 

“Ew,” you snickered. 

“What?” Angus said. “Not a fan of Playboy? Are you more of a Penthouse fan?” 

“No,” you said. “I mean, like, no, just… Thinking of Kountze doing that is… Just gross.” 

Angus took a drag on the joint, and he said “I guess you’ve kissed a guy before, huh?” 

“Excuse me?” you sputtered. 

“I mean, there’s not an elegant way to ask if you’ve had sex before,” Angus started quickly. “So, like, gotta build up to it, right?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Fucking hell,” you mumbled as Angus quickly muttered out a “Sorry, forget I said anything”, and you slowly added, “No. If that answers your wildly-invasive question.”

“‘No’, you’ve never had sex before?” Angus asked. “Or ‘no’, you’ve never kissed a guy before? Or a girl? Are you gay? I don’t really care if you are, but like—”

“Shut up,” you huffed. “Both.” 

“Oh,” Angus said. “Not even at your old school?” 

“Not even at my old school,” you echoed mirthlessly. “Guys just never really cared about me. There was always some girl who was prettier or funnier, smarter, richer, whatever. I’m nothin’ special.” 

“Hm,” Angus grunted. 

“What about you?” you asked, taking the joint and pulling at it. 

“Oh, I get it regularly,” Angus said. “Yeah, my girlfriend’s a Playboy model. I sneak her into the dorm once a week and— Be serious, of course not.” You laughed as Angus smiled at his own joke. “I’m the same. When I wasn’t going to all-boys schools, girls just never liked me. I’ve always been a weirdo.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows. “I thought you’ve always gone to Barton?” you asked. 

“No,” Angus said. “I’ve been kicked out of a ton of schools. S’why I’m still a junior and I’m about to turn 18, I’ve been moved around so much that I ended up falling behind.”

“Why?” you asked. 

Angus shrugged. “I’m what they call a ‘troubled youth’,” he said, reciting the title like he didn’t believe it but had been told it too often. “I cheat and steal and get in fights. In fact, Stanley says if I get kicked out of Barton, I’ll be going to Fork Union.” 

A shiver ran down your spine. You knew Fork Union; you hadn’t ever been or knew anyone who went there, but its reputation preceded itself. Whoever Stanley was really had it out for Angus. “Fuck,” you hissed. “That’s… Intense.” 

“Yeah,” Angus nodded in agreement. “So I gotta be on my best behavior.” 

“And smoking weed in the chapel is what you consider good behavior?” you asked. 

“Of course not,” Angus scoffed. “But it’s fun, and that’s what I care about.” 

You nodded slowly, and Angus pulled at the joint again before pressing down on one of the keys of the piano with his outstretched pinky finger, hearing a single little chime sound. He seemed to drift off then, going off in thought in silence as he absently passed you the joint. After a few moments, his eyes slid off to the side, and you followed his gaze over to see a small table set up just in front of the stage with a single picture frame on it. You knew the picture: Curtis Lamb. It was something that you and Mary could commiserate on, and you held the utmost respect for her and for the late Curtis. 

You declined the joint and got up to go sit in front of the picture. You had never chosen to sit in the front row of the chapel, always trying to be as close to the back door as possible, just like with your dad, and you had never seen that picture of Curtis that close up before. He was handsome, his uniform spotless without a wrinkle, the skin on his face smooth and shiny. He was young— 19. 

Angus slowly joined you on the pew, pressing his back against the arm and pulling his legs up to his chest, and he let out a gentle sigh as he too examined the picture of Curtis. “That’s why you like Mary so much,” Angus whispered eventually after a long and heavy bout of silence. “‘Cause you both…” 

You nodded. “You can say it,” you mumbled. “S’not the Boogeyman or anything. Saying it doesn’t make it more powerful.” 

“I know,” Angus murmured. “But thinking about it… Dying, being killed…” He shook his head, trailing off. “I used to think about it a lot. Back when Dad first got sick.” 

“Oh, yeah?” you asked gently. 

Angus hummed. “Then Dr. Gertler put me on some pills… They help a little, but sometimes I still… I dunno.” 

“Gertler?” you repeated. “That’s your psychologist or whatever it’s called?” 

“Yeah,” Angus said. “He used to be my dad’s doctor too, but then Dad went to the hospital, and they’re better for him there. Not that The Gert isn’t good, he is, just… Not what Dad needed.” 

You fell into silence then. The purples and blues of the morning began to bleed in through the chapel windows as you and Angus sat still, looking at the picture of Curtis but not seeing it. You were each lost in your own heads, and you found yourself sinking down to the thin, threadbare carpet and settling on your ass, and your head leaned back just so to touch Angus’s hip. You didn’t know him too well— you were clueless about what his favorite color was, but you knew the surface level of his worst trauma— and you wanted to comfort him, but something like holding his hand or hugging him seemed like a bridge too far. So, the slightest contact, a sort-of “I’m right here” seemed like the way to go. 

At long last, you heard the heavy creak of the chapel doors opening, and Angus turned to look. You couldn’t see from your vantage point, and the person nor Angus said anything, but you heard the groan of the old wooden pew in the very back row as someone sat down, and, based on the silence and the fact that Hunham was a staunchly non-Christian man, you could deduce that it was Curtis’s mother back there, coming in for her morning prayers. 

You all sat quietly, ruminating on your own thoughts, and finally you heard Mary’s smooth and smoky voice, not a yell but not a whisper: “You two better get back in your beds before Mr. Hunham decides to wake up.”  

You passed through the aisle towards the front doors of the chapel, and you and Mary locked eyes for a brief moment as you walked by. She gave you a small nod, then closed her eyes and went back to her prayers. 

Angus wasn’t a chatty guy to begin with, but the silence as you made your way back to the main building and the infirmary felt suffocating. It was cold as hell, somehow feeling even more biting than the 4AM chill you had felt before, and you nudged away a few slushy snowflakes as you walked up the steps to the doors. “Thanks,” you said finally. “That was, umm…” 

Angus shrugged, tugging the key ring out of his pocket carefully to keep the keys from jingling together. “Don’t mention it,” he said. “And now we know where they keep the good wine.” 

You managed a halfway-decent smile, and you dug into your jacket pocket and handed Angus a few Christ crackers. “Not a cheeseburger,” you said. “But it’s something.” 

-

You were sleepy throughout the entire day. Even though your excursion only lasted a few hours and didn’t give you any less sleep than a typical bout of insomnia did, you kept yawning throughout your library time and jog around the campus. Angus seemed to be in better shape than you were, his usual sullen self but not in any way looking tired, and you envied him. 

The day only brightened by a bit at lunch. You sat next to Angus as you quietly ate, chancing glances at him every so often, and he seemed… Normal. Drinking his Coke, looking past Mary and out the window to the snowy expanse outside. Not attempting any conversation or showing that you had shared a moment just a few hours earlier. Of course, you didn’t expect him to really do that, but the point held true that it was infuriating. When your eyes met, he could have at least smiled instead of averting his eyes like you were Medusa or something. 

The brightening came in the form of Hunham setting a large ceramic plate in front of him, covered by a napkin. “I have a surprise,” he announced. “These were a gift to me, and I would like to share them with all of you.” 

Quickly, Hunham tugged off the napkin, and you saw a plate of cookies. Sugar, with hard, shiny frosting decorating the different shapes with vibrant Christmas colors. “Look at them,” Hunham added. “Look at the… Festive shapes. Snowflakes… Gingerbread men… A tree… Oh, a little mitten!” He picked up the pastel blue mitten and bit off the thumb, and he contemplated the taste for a moment before looking back up at you and Angus. “And they’ve got frosting!” 

Angus’s eyes slid to you, unimpressed, then back at Hunham. “May I go to the bathroom, sir?” he said flatly, already getting out of his chair as Hunham excused him, less of a request and more of a “I’m leaving, here’s my sorry excuse as for a reason why”. You watched Angus stalk out of the dining room, his hands bouncing limply at his sides, and Mary sighed, taking a sip of her coffee. 

“Well, I’m trying,” Hunham mumbled half-heartedly, and Mary scoffed out a laugh. Obviously, this was a continuation of a conversation that you had not been privy to, and you kept your thoughts to yourself as you stuck a green bean in your mouth. 

The three of you sat in silence for a few moments, long enough for the tick of the second hand on your watch to bore under your skin, and Hunham looked back at the door, as if expecting Angus to come back in. “Where the hell is he…?” Hunham mumbled, and he scooted out his chair noisly. 

His shoes clicked across the polished hardwood, and you nudged a few French fries around with your fork. “You’re not eating,” Mary said as the door closed behind Hunham, and you tore your eyes up from your plate to look at her. Her cigarette clutched between her manicured nails, her dark mug of coffee in her palm, she looked every bit of a mother as she should, especially with the soft, sad look in her eyes. She wasn’t admonishing you; she was worried. 

You shrugged. 

“Do you not want this?” Mary asked. “I’m sure I can find something else back there for you.”  

“No,” you said quickly. “I-I’m fine, Mary. Just… Tired, I guess.” 

“Mm-hm,” Mary hummed. “Which has nothing to do with your little excursion with that boy earlier, right?” 

You shook your head, closing your eyes. “That wasn’t…” you started. “We were just…” But you stopped yourself before you could tell her why. Why had Angus dragged you out of bed to galavant around the school? From what you could tell, he didn’t particularly like you. “Huh. Weird.” 

Mary ashed her cigarette. “All I’ll say is, I’m not your mom. Whatever you and him get up to isn’t my business and I don’t want it to be, but… Don’t let him do too much to ya.” 

“God, Mary, we don’t…” you started softly. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Mary said coldly. “I meant, don’t let that boy into your head too much. He’s a boy. And boys are, for the most part, dumb assholes. So, whatever he does, don’t let it affect you too much. After all, he’s just trying to—”

The hallway outside the dining room suddenly echoed with a cacophonous “Son of a bitch! That’s another detention!” and a sudden metallic crashing, and you nearly snapped your neck with the speed at which you turned to the door. Before you could even think not to, you got up out of your seat and made your way out the door, just in time to watch Hunham disappear down the corridor. Angus was already on the far side of the hall, the metal trash can tipped over with the lid rolling beside it, and you spotted Hunham’s pink detention pad sitting next to the payphone. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened, and you trailed after Hunham and Angus at a quick walk, staying a few steps behind Hunham. 

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, Mr. Tully, but you are courting disaster!” Hunham called after Angus, and you watched Angus hook a corner, but peek back out at Hunham. 

“Without sufficient exercise, the body devours itself,” he said with a cheeky smile, and his gaze landed on you. The smile dropped from his face for just a moment before he disappeared around the corner once more, and Hunham turned to see you. He wasted little time with you, though, going back to his huffing-puffing pursuit of Angus. 

“You are careening towards suspension!” Hunham shouted, and you sped up your steps to overtake Hunham, but there was no way you could keep pace with Angus. He was standing in the middle of the doorway, waiting for Hunham to catch up, and you breathed heavily. 

“Angus!” you shouted after him, but he picked up the chase once more, allowing you to get within grabbing distance of him before he sped off. “Ang— What the fuck? You— Fork Union!” You couldn’t process your thoughts efficiently, let alone in a good enough way to express what you needed to, and you hoped that the mere mention of the military school would make Angus rethink his decision. 

But it didn’t. In fact, he seemed to pick up speed as he ran from you, and you skidded into the trophy room to watch Angus pull off a clumsy cartwheel. The fucker was enjoying himself. Your chest burned with agitation as Angus came to a stop at the open doorway, and an acid bile rose in your throat. The gym. 

Before he had fucked off to Haystack, Jason had mentioned how Senator Osgood had paid for a brand-new gym to allow his son Jordan to graduate from Barton, and that apparently Hunham was the one who had failed him and forced the gym to happen. You knew nothing of Jordan Osgood and even less about his right-wing Republican father, but you (along with everyone in Senator Osgood’s district) knew that they had money. And the money seemed to have gone a long way, a basketball court with bleach-white nets hanging from the goals, straight and even hardwood floors with the Barton lion mascot expertly painted on them, tall and high windows that let in a blinding amount of sunlight. But the gym was obviously unfinished, only half of the floor shiny and waxy with lacquer. 

You saw what Angus did, and you huffed out a breath. “Angus, please,” you said through labored breaths. “Don’t— You can’t—” 

Before you could say more, Hunham came up behind you, in a similar winded state as you. You watched Angus’s back straighten, and Hunham held out a warning finger to him. “Don’t even think about it, Mr. Tully,” he said. “You are a hair’s breadth from suspension. I’ll wash my hands of you. You hear me? Wash my hands!”

Angus took half a step forward, the toe of his shoe touching the gym floor, and Hunham said, “Stop right there. You know the gym is strictly off limits. This is your Rubicon. Do not cross the Rubicon!” 

Angus slowly turned to look at you and Hunham, a coy smile on his scarred lips. He gave a light, taunting shrug, then flicked his eyebrows, and said something in Latin. If you had been in a better mindset, you could have translated it in the moment, but you weren’t, and you watched Angus wink at you, then charge across the floor into the gym, towards that fucking gymnastics vault. 

You had never watched someone get seriously hurt before. You hated the idea of it— even watching a scary movie was a little too extreme. But time seemed to slow down as you watched Angus bounce off the springboard and go ass-over-head over the vault, landing with a thundering thud and a sickly sound of flesh against the thin mat. Not a snap, but definitely the sound of an injury. The air was still and stagnant for a long second, a second that felt like a lifetime, before a shrill scream cut through the air. 

“Oh, fuck! Mr. Hunham!” 

The next few minutes felt like a blur. You ran into the gym and helped Angus to his feet, holding down vomit at his limp left arm— not that it would have mattered; Angus had already taken care of that for you. You pawned him off to Hunham, then somehow, you mechanically went back to the infirmary and gathered your coat, Angus’s coat, and Hunham’s coat and keys. You felt numb, out of your body, listening to Hunham and Angus bicker back and forth the whole car ride to the nearest hospital. You were quiet, letting Angus lean into you and sniffle and cry at the pain, and you saw his eyes all red and glassy as he choked back his tears. He was scared. You grabbed his hand— the good one, not the one he had raised and trembling with the effort— and his sniffles quieted down to pathetic whimpers. 

“This is the end,” Hunham said, and you snapped back into your head in an instant. You don’t remember having gotten to the hospital, let alone maneuvering Angus inside and to the emergency room, but somehow you were there, Angus wedged between you and your teacher on the bench, his hand still clasped in yours. “They’ll inform the school, who’ll inform your parents, and then it’s curtains. You are gonna get me fired. You!”

Angus sniffled. “I’m the one who might lose an arm, and all you can think about is yourself.” 

You sighed. “That’s dramatic, Angus,” you mumbled. 

“When I get my arm chopped off, will you help me carry my books to class?” Angus asked. 

“I’m not helping you with shit,” you snapped. 

Before Angus could snark back at you, a nurse came, dressed in white, and she handed a clipboard and a plastic ballpoint pen to Hunham. Her eyes glazed you, then Angus, and she said, “If you could just fill this out, please. Admissions and insurance.” 

Insurance. Fuck. You hadn’t even thought about that. Hunham’s face went sour and pale, and he slowly started to fill out the first box, putting A-N-G in block letters, but Angus spoke in a clipped voice. “Excuse me,” he said, and the nurse turned back to him. “Is there any way we could skip this whole insurance thing?” 

The nurse sighed. You recognized that sigh; your mother did the same one with her customers at the diner. The ‘I don’t get paid enough for this’. “It’s just standard procedure,” she said. 

“I understand. But look…” Angus started. He chewed his lip at Hunham, then looked at you, then turned back to her with a breath. “We were over at Squantz Pond playing hockey… And I slipped on the ice.” 

“Angus,” Hunham said in a hushed tone. “What’re you doing?” 

“My mom told him not to take me, but I made him,” Angus continued, and Hunham looked past Angus to you, seeing if you had any idea what stunt Angus was pulling now. You were just as lost as him, though, and you watched Angus with a curious enrapturement as he spun his yarn. “My folks are divorced, and we don’t get to see each other very often. She’ll be mad as a hornet if she finds out.” 

“Okay, that’s your business,” the nurse said, sighing again. “But we just have certain protocols.” 

“Y-Yeah, protocols,” Hunham protested weakly, but Angus bulldozed right over him with more lies. 

“Please,” Angus said, his eyes going all glassy again. “I never get to see my dad, a-and I just wanted him to meet my girlfriend.” A hot shock ran down your skin, blazing in your cheeks, as you understood that you were the supposed girlfriend. God, you were going to strangle Angus Tully when this was all done. “It was my fault, all mine. I don’t want to get him in trouble.” He gave Hunham a pathetic little glance, his bottom lip wobbling, and his voice was all broken as he added, “I don’t want her dragging you to court again.” He sniffled and squeezed your hand, and you pulled his hand into your lap, stroking his soft skin with your thumb. “Can we skip the whole insurance thing? We can pay cash. Right, Dad?” 

Angus didn’t drop your hand the entire time. He held onto you as the three of you were led to an exam room, and he shied away from the nurse (she never told you her name) as she tried to take off his sweater. He mumbled something about his shoulder, how he couldn’t move it right, and you carefully nudged in front of where he sat on the exam table, flexing your hand to get him to let go. Quietly, you tugged Angus’s maroon sweater up as far as it would go before he groaned in pain, and you swallowed thickly. “I know, Ang,” you said gently. “It’s alright, baby.” 

His eyes got all big at you as you played the role he had assigned to you, and with gentle encouragement from his beloved “girlfriend”, you managed to get the sweater off his right arm and have it slide off his left arm. Next came his robin’s-egg-blue buttoned shirt, and you sighed as you focused on the small plastic buttons, not able to look Angus in the eye. As calm as you seemed on the surface, you were screaming and cursing and spitting like a possessed woman inside. You were so angry at him, for everything— for disobeying Hunham, for getting himself hurt, for roping you into his kinda-sorta insurance fraud. If you could have slapped him across the face, you would have. But you couldn’t, so you settled for a sweet kiss on his cheek and a whispered “There you go” as his shirt came off. That left him in his thin white undershirt, and you balked at his pale skin, but particularly the way his shoulder stuck out grotesquely. You could tell from a glance— dislocated. “Jesus…” you whispered, and the nurse moved you aside. 

“Yeah,” she said. “Sometimes the things you see here are a little sickening. But you’ve been more than enough help; thank you, sweetie.” 

“Guess you’re not going to nursing school, huh?” Angus chuckled, trying to lighten the heavy mood, and you folded his sweater and shirt over your arms. 

“You know how I get with blood, Ang,” you said softly. “Nursing school was never gonna be for me.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Angus hummed, as if he knew anything about you and was just being reminded of this fact. “Hey, remember back in August, at the football game against Choate, when Jason got flattened by that linebacker?” 

You had never gone to a single Barton football game, but obviously Angus had a point to why he brought this up, so you nodded. “Yeah,” you said carefully. “Umm, i-isn’t that the same day Kountze invited us to that bonfire?” 

“Yeah,” Angus nodded along with your addition. “I think you were somewhere else, bathroom or something, but Jason just got pummeled by this dude that was twice his size—”

“I was with his girlfriend when that happened,” you said. “She was hysterical.” 

“But he got up and went back to the sideline, and I went down to talk to him,” Angus said, wincing as the nurse worked his undershirt over his head. “And his mouth was all full of blood, but he was laughing ‘cause he said Jenny was gonna be doting all over him for the next week.” 

You nodded. “And she did,” you said. “That was… Kinda gross to watch, actually.” 

Angus shrugged, but immediately regretted it, hissing in pain at the involuntary action. “That’ll be us,” he said in a tight voice. “I’m all injured and everything, and you get to take care of me.” 

“Get to?” you repeated. “You make that sound like a privilege.” 

“I took care of you when you got your wisdom teeth taken out last year,” Angus said, and your hand went lightly to your jaw. How in the fuck did he know you didn’t have your wisdom teeth? Had he seen it? When? “Now it’s your turn.” 

“I didn’t sign up for that,” you chuckled. 

“Sure you did,” Angus said. “That was in the fine print when I asked you to go steady.” 

You rolled your eyes. “I think the pain’s making you delirious,” you said. 

“We’ll get him some pain medication soon,” the nurse said. “First, we’re gonna have to X-ray your shoulder. Your dad and girlfriend are gonna be right here, we’re just going down the hall.” 

The silence in the exam room once Angus left was deafening, and Hunham stood opposite you. Every so often, he looked like he wanted to say something, then would change his mind, and he finally settled on “I can hold Mr. Tully’s things.” 

“I-I’ve got it,” you said softly. You held his clothes a little closer to your chest and chewed your lip nervously, and you mumbled, “I guess we’re lucky… It could be worse.”

“We don’t know how bad it is yet,” Hunham said, and you shrugged. 

“At least he’s not, like… Dead,” you offered. “His arm’s just a little messed up.” 

Hunham sighed but said nothing else, seemingly agreeing with you. You let yourself shift your weight as you waited, and your fingers itched in Angus’s sweater. It was soft, and still a little warm from his body, and you buried your cold hands in it. 

Angus returned soon after, and the air was prickly with silence until a doctor walked in. Dressed in a white lab coat, he carried a thin piece of plastic, and he smiled thinly at Hunham before he threw the plastic sheet onto the lightbox on the wall and flipped it on. There, as clear as day, was an X-ray of Angus’s fucked-up shoulder, the ball-and-socket joint clearly not ball-and-socket anymore. “The good news is nothing’s broken,” the doctor told you, and Hunham audibly sighed. 

“Thank God,” he said. 

“But you did dislocate your shoulder pretty badly,” the doctor added, eyeing Angus down. “That was quite a tumble you took, kid. What happened?” 

You saw Angus look at the nurse out of the corner of his eye, and, knowing that he had to stay with the fib he told, you chimed in quickly. “We were playing hockey,” you said. “Or, rather, Angus was playing hockey, and me and… His dad were watching. The ice was slippery, and Ang just… I don’t know, one second he was up, the next he was down.” 

“Was trying to impress you,” Angus mumbled, and you lovingly brushed down his messy curls. 

“I know,” you said. “It’s okay. Just don’t do it again.” 

“I take it you’re the girlfriend, then,” the doctor said.

“It would seem that way,” you said lightheartedly, but you gave a secret, harsh tug to the bottom of Angus’s hair as retribution. He winced and sucked in a tight breath, and the doctor nodded a bit. 

“What’s that mean?” Angus asked. “Like, I know what dislocating is, but what does that mean for me?” 

“That means your arm has popped out of the socket,” the doctor said. He moved away from the X-ray and went to join the nurse at the side of Angus’s exam bed, and they wordlessly began to move him onto his back. “And we just have to pop it back in.” 

“Is it gonna hurt?” Angus asked, and you watched panic fill his eyes as the nurse’s hand brushed the skin of his upper arm, and he winced in pain. 

“Not if you relax,” the doctor told him. He turned around to the small counter behind him, where the nurse had laid a bundled-up bedsheet, and he started to shake it out and loop it around Angus’s torso as he added, “The key is to relax. Deep breaths.”

You watched the doctor and the nurse expertly wind the bedsheet around Angus, and you furrowed your eyebrows at it. “What’re you doing?” you asked. 

“We are making a sort-of slipknot,” the doctor told you. “We’re going to pop his arm back in, and then he’ll be right as rain, with only a little discomfort afterwards, but the Percodan we’ll give him will take care of all of that.” 

Angus said your name, his voice a little shaky, and, even though you had never heard him talk like that before, you knew that he was scared. You stepped forward just a touch, close but not too close, but, as the medical professionals began to gently pull his arm back, readying it, Angus’s free hand shot out like lightning and gripped your fingers. His eyes were squeezed shut, holding his breath, his neck and ears red, and you looked at the doctor for a moment before you said, “Ang, baby, it’ll be okay. Just one second where it hurts really bad, then it’ll be over. Can you do it for one second?” 

“...Think I’m gonna puke again…” Angus mumbled. 

“That’s okay,” you said soothingly. 

“Don’t wanna puke on you,” Angus added, and you frowned. 

“I’ll just throw everything in the washer when we get back,” you said with a shrug. The doctor made eye contact with you from behind Angus, and he flicked his eyebrows at you in a way that told you to keep talking. Distract Angus, so he can’t see it coming. “How about, when we get back, we can watch TV?” you started, trying to find anything to blabber about for long enough. “I think a new episode of Bonanza comes on tonight. But, God, I missed the last few weeks, I have no idea what’s going on anymore. Is Hoss still courting that fancy lady? I thought maybe that was done, but I heard something about it on the radio the other day, so who knows—”

At that moment, the doctor and the nurse yanked the bedsheet in opposite directions, and Angus writhed and wormed as he let out a guttural gurgle and hiss, then a pathetic yelping scream as his shoulder went back right with a wet pop that made your neck hair stand on end. You heard Hunham behind you give a scoff of “Jesus!”, and then the ordeal was over. 

Angus moved his left arm slowly as the doctor rattled about the medication he was prescribing, something where Angus couldn’t drive while on it or drink alcohol or mix with other medication, and you nodded along as you listened. Angus worked himself into his undershirt and threw his buttoned shirt on, and you took over doing up his buttons. He frowned at the sight of his sweater, though, and you knew that lifting his arm to get it into the sleeve was maybe asking too much, so you held onto it as they fixed a sling around his neck and looped his left arm in it. 

“Take care, young man,” the doctor said. “And keep her around. Hard to find someone who cares about people like that nowadays.” 

The first significant thing Hunham said since arriving at the hospital was spoken as the three of you approached the pharmacy counter, prescription in hand. “Barton men don’t do that.” 

“Do what?” Angus asked. 

“Barton men don’t lie,” Hunham clarified. 

“Yeah, well,” Angus sighed. “I had momentum.” 

Hunham passed the paper prescription across the counter to the pharmacist, and he mumbled, “Hello, we have this, uh…” 

The pharmacist looked over his glasses at the paper, then up to Angus, then Hunham, and finally you. “Percodan, huh? Gimme a few minutes.” 

He went off in search of the requested medication, and Hunham paused for a moment before adding, “You too, Miss, you’re included in this.” 

“What, was I supposed to refute all of that?” you asked. “We were already committing insurance fraud, might as well play along as best we can.” 

“And you said that if Woodrup finds out, you’re screwed,” Angus interjected. “So now he won’t find out.” 

“What happens if your parents inquire?” Hunham asked, and Angus’s face darkened for a moment as he scoffed flatly.

“Never gonna happen,” he said. “Trust me.” 

Hunham looked obviously confused at the certainty of Angus’s words, but nevertheless said “Okay, then. This all remains entre nous. Got it? You know what entre nous means?” 

“Oui, monsieur,” Angus said, screwing up his face mockingly. Then, a coy smile crossed his lips, and he said, “Now you owe me.” 

“Owe you?” Hunham repeated, glaring at Angus. “Oh no, do not try to leverage me, Mr. Tully.” 

“All I’m looking for is a little thank you that I did something nice for you,” Angus said. “That’s all.” After a moment, he flashed Hunham a cheeky smile. 

You swallowed thickly. “You look real stupid with your hand dangling out of the sling like that,” you said quickly. You don’t know what possessed you to say that, and Angus scoffed.

“God, you’re mean,” Angus said. “What happened to the little kisses and the ‘baby’s and shit?” 

“You think I enjoyed doing that?” you asked. “Fuck, Angus, grow up. I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” You didn’t wait for a reply before you turned heel and made your way to the nearby bathroom, adorned with a silver plaque with a little stick woman on it, leaving the boys in a confused dust behind you. 

Lucky for you, it was a single stall situation, a big room able to accommodate a wheelchair or walker, and, once inside, you quickly flipped the lock on the door and sighed. Your heart was racing, your cheeks hot— in honesty, you did enjoy all of that. Something about it felt almost cathartic, pretending to have a healthy and loving relationship with someone, like you were acting out your greatest fantasy. Whether or not Angus was a part of that fantasy or just a placeholder until David Cassidy paid Barton a visit, you weren’t sure, but your heart ached and cried. You didn’t want to pretend— you wanted the real thing. And the fact that you’d never get the real thing, at least not anytime soon, made your eyes burn with tears. Just more evidence to the fact that your life was doomed from the start— nobody wanted you, plain and simple. 

You slammed at the tap, turning it on to run cold water over your hands, and you pressed your hands to your burning cheeks, trying to calm down. You took a deep breath, then another, and you shucked off your jacket and tugged Angus’s red sweater over your head. It smelled like him, clean but also a little sharp from the sheer boyishness of it all, and you slid your jacket back on.

By the time you left the bathroom, Angus had worked himself partially into his coat, a small paper baggie in hand that rattled with pills against the glass bottle. “We’re getting dinner,” Hunham told you, his tone indicating to you that he and Angus had had a battle while you were absent and he was the loser. His eyes swept your frame, obviously catching Angus’s sweater on your body, but he said nothing about that.“There’s a small place in town.” 

“I-I didn’t bring my pocketbook,” you started to protest, but Angus dug into the pocket of his corduroy pants and produced his own wallet. 

“I’ve got it,” he said simply, and gave you the same smile he had given Hunham. 

The chosen dinner spot, a small pub called the Winning Ticket, was surprisingly bustling with activity. Music played from the bar portion of the place, competing against Nixon on the television and the dinging of pinball machines, and the air felt warm but not thick, the way some restaurants could feel. You slid into the booth first, then Angus settled himself next to you, nudging your arm with his slinged elbow (he had shifted his arm backwards after your comment about his hand, so now only his fingers spilled over the edge), and Hunham sat across from you.

“I think I’ll start with a beer,” Angus said, and Hunham scoffed. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mr. Tully,” Hunham told him. 

“We’ve had a hard day,” Angus continued. “We deserve to loosen up a little.” 

“You’ve had ten milligrams of Percodan,” Hunham said. “You’re plenty loose already.” 

He was right. Angus had swallowed down two of the pills in the backseat of Hunham’s Nova on the drive over, and already he was acting differently, just a little lighter and less reserved. It wasn’t a dramatic change, and you might not have noticed it, but Percodan Angus almost reminded you of Holy Wine and Joint Angus. 

“They’ve got Miller High Life!” Angus said, looking down at the laminated menu that lay waiting on the table. “‘The Champagne of Beers’!” 

“Oh, yeah?” you asked. “You and what identification, Mr. Seventeen Years Old?” 

“Hey, if you could have a beer, you would,” Angus told you.

“Oh, I can,” you told him. “If the bartender’s a guy, I just gotta flutter my eyelashes at him, and I’ll get whatever I want.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you became very aware of your teacher’s presence across the table from you, and you cleared your throat. “O-Or so I’ve heard.” 

Before anything else could be said, a waitress approached, and your face lit up. Dyed ginger hair, fun earrings, a soft face and kind eyes. 

“Miss Crane!” Hunham beat you to the punch, and your Secretarial Studies teacher glowed. “As I live and breathe! What are you doing here?” 

“Hi, guys!” Miss Crane laughed. “And our sweet Barton girl, how’re you, darling? Uh, yeah, I always pick up a little extra work over Thanksgiving and Christmas.” 

Hunham took a moment to respond, still smiling at Miss Crane, and he stammered out, “Oh, this is Mr. Tully—”

“Oh, sure, I know you,” Miss Crane said, and Angus gave her a smile.

“Angus Tully,” he introduced himself. “We met outside Dr. Woodrup’s office. I was wrongly accused of blowing up a toilet.”

Miss Crane gave you an amused smile, and you shared a laugh. “I didn’t know about the ‘wrongly’ part,” she said. 

“And, of course, Miss Y/N,” Hunham added. 

“It’s good to see you,” Miss Crane cooed. “I was worried I wasn’t going to see you before you moved back to Boston. Barton sure is gonna miss you.” 

“Oh, I’m…” you started. The real story was far too long and messy to get into right at that moment, so you swallowed down the truth in exchange for a grin. “I’m glad to see you too.” 

“Yes, well,” Hunham started. “He’ll have a cheeseburger.” 

“And a Miller High Life, please,” Angus butted in as Miss Crane began to write the order down, and Hunham grunted. 

“No, you will not.” 

“Where do you stand on Miller High Life, Miss Crane? Quality-wise, I mean,” Angus asked, and you groaned. 

“Christ, give it up,” you said. “He’s on pain meds, Miss Crane, don’t—” 

“Well, like they say,” Miss Crane started with a scrunch of her nose. “It’s the champagne of beers.” 

“And she’s a professional!” Angus said, looking at Hunham as he gestured to her, and Hunham rolled his eyes, unamused. 

“Okay, one cheeseburger,” Miss Crane started, and Angus sighed. 

“And a Coke,” he added reluctantly. 

“Umm, same for me,” you told her. “But, umm, if you can have them do no pickles, please?” 

“Sure, sweetie,” Miss Crane said softly. 

“I’ll have a cheeseburger as well,” Hunham told her. 

“Three cheeseburgers,” Miss Crane recited. “Hold the pickles on one—”

“And a Jim Beam,” Hunham added, and Angus gaped in awe, the audacity of Hunham to say no to a beer but yes to a drink for himself washing over him. “On the rocks. Please.” 

Miss Crane smiled and left the table, and you watched as Hunham watched her leave. You looked over at Angus with a smile of disbelief, and Angus grinned— Did Hunham have game after all? 

“Ouch,” Angus laughed, shaking his hand like he had gotten burned. “You two have chemistry.” 

“That’s the Percodan talking,” Hunham grumbled. 

“No shit, Mr. H,” you giggled. “That was something. Who knew you were such a Casanova?” 

“I don’t know, seeing her like this,” Angus started. “I think she’s pretty attractive.” 

You snorted so loud with a laugh that you almost missed Hunham saying “Listen, you hormonal vulgarians” as he leaned into the table. “That woman deserves your respect, not your erotic speculations.” 

Angus looked at you with a smile, and you tamped down more laughter. “May I at least go to the bathroom?” he asked. “Sir?” 

“You mean the payphone?” Hunham asked, and Angus’s face fell stony. You watched the staredown, seeing who would break first, and eventually Hunham bested Angus, because the younger peeled away from the tufted booth seat, and you rolled your eyes. 

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” you groaned, and you got up just as Miss Crane was coming back, her tray ladened with your drinks and Mr. Hunham’s Jim Beam. You tailed Angus towards the bathrooms, but paused at the corner of the bar, watching him disappear into the mens’ room. You stayed behind, looking around at the televisions mounted on the walls, and your mouth went sour at footage of the war being shown on the news. You looked away before you could even properly read the headline, and your fingers nervously went to fiddle with your necklace. 

The bartender gave you a look from down the way, expecting an order out of you, and you shook your head. He (of course it was a male bartender) tilted his head with a smile, a sorta “You know you wanna” look, and you pushed a small laugh out of your nose. Driving, you mouthed simply, making a little steering-wheel motion with your hands, and he nodded and smiled, then turned back to his marginal work. 

The door to the mens’ room swung open, and you watched Angus slink out. He didn’t look at you, or back in the direction of the table— he looked around the bar, and found his focus being pulled in by one of the pinball machines. You watched him approach and dig in his pocket for a moment, and he watched the guy play his game as he set his dime down on the edge of the machine. 

You foolishly almost thought that the night would pass without any more incident. You’d eat your dinner, get back to Barton, and go in your room and ignore everyone and everything until the sun crested the snow in a few hours. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. If you were back home, your mom would let you and Rachel and Anna open one present from underneath the tree, which was always a pair of pajamas that somehow coordinated with everyone else’s but never matched, then you’d fall asleep on the couch while your mom listened to her favorite Nat King Cole Christmas record. Well, that’s what had happened every year up until now. Up until Richard and his daughter (you still didn’t know her name). You wondered what their traditions were. You wondered how they were changing the fabric of your family. You wondered if your mom had bothered to keep up the picture of your dad that hung in the hallway, or if it had come down when Rich moved in. 

Yet, incident came. Over the din of the bar, you heard Angus’s whiny little voice say “‘Cause I don’t wanna shoot the other fuckin’ machine.” You looked over at him, and recognized his body language, tall and looming, as the guy playing pinball stepped back with a huff. 

“Thanks for fuckin’ up my mojo,” he said to Angus, and you started forward as he called, “Kenny! You’re up!”

“Bullshit,” Angus said as you came up behind him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “I put my dime down, so I’m up next.” 

“Angus, let it go,” you told him firmly, but a voice stopped either of you from splitting the scene.

“What was that?” 

You turned to look at who spoke, presumably Kenny, he of the next round of pinball, and your heart sank. Young— older than you, but still young as hell— wearing a heavy jacke with jeans and a chain dogtag, and your throat closed up. A hook at the end of his right hand. There was no mistaking where he lost it, and a flash of fear and dread washed over you. It was too much— first the news, now this. You felt sick. 

“Ang, c’mon, let’s just go,” you mumbled, but Angus was too busy staring down the hook that swung at Kenny’s side. 

“Hey, sport,” Kenny said, his voice low. “My eyes are up here.” 

“Look at this kid,” the pinball wizard chortled. “Spoiled little fuckin’ Barton boy. And his bitch too, huh?” 

“Yeah, he’s a fancy little prick, isn’t he?” Kenny said, and he looked at you. “Why the long face, honey? Look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

“I-It’s fine,” Angus stammered, and his arm snaked around to you, pushing you back just a touch behind him. Something in your chest tightened, thinking that Angus thought he needed to protect you, but there was also a warmth— Angus was protecting you.“You can take my dime.” 

“Take it?” Kenny repeated. “You want me to take your dime? Like it’s charity?” 

“N-No,” Angus breathed. “What I meant is we can play together.” He lightly jostled his left arm in the sling, and he added, “You can be my left arm.” 

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Kenny asked, taking a step forward, nearly nose to nose with Angus, and you felt Angus freeze up. 

“Hey,” the pinball wizard started. “You. Prom Queen over here. You gonna let your little boyfriend talk like that?”

Your eyes darted from him to Kenny, then to Angus, then back to Pinball Wizard. You stammered for a moment, trying to find anything to say, and the only thing that came out of your mouth was “I-I—” 

“No wonder he’s got a big mouth,” Kenny chuckled. “She doesn’t have one at all.” 

You felt dizzy, and you tugged on Angus’s sleeve to leave as you examined Kenny for anything you recognized— a patch on his jacket, a logo on his t-shirt, anything would suffice to ground you. Finally, you saw it: a little appliqué of a purple ribbon with a heart at the end, looking just like the real thing that, last you knew of it, was stashed in the back of your mom’s closet. “My dad’s got one of those…” you mumbled. You couldn’t even think about self-preservation anymore; you were fixated on it now, saying everything you could about it to anchor you in your head and not the stratosphere. “...Got it during Green River…” 

“Oh, yeah?” Kenny asked. “And why hasn’t he knocked some fuckin’ respect into your boy here?” 

Your mouth felt stuffed with cotton. “He-He didn’t…” you started, and stared at Angus. “He’s an asshole… Socially inept or whatever. Didn’t mean anything by it.” 

You couldn’t add in anything more before Angus was peeling away from you, hot-stepping it back to the table, and Pinball Wizard and Kenny made chase as you took up the rear. “Angus!” you shouted, and Hunham and Miss Crane both looked in your direction as Angus walked up to the table. 

“Mr. Hunham, can we go, please?” Angus asked urgently. 

“Why?” Hunham asked, looking back at the two men and you. 

“I’ve just been called a fancy little prick,” Angus said as Kenny called after him. “We should go,” Angus added, and you passed Pinball Wizard and Kenny to get to the booth, once again taking up your assigned place behind Angus. 

“Why’d you run off?” Kenny asked with a fake smile. “We were just talking to you. Don’t they teach you manners at that school?” Kenny closed in on Angus, and he brought his hook up to his chest, poking Angus in the sternum with it, and Miss Crane jumped as Hunham jostled in his seat. 

“No, no, no, Kenneth!” Miss Crane pleaded. “Leave him alone, they just came in for some food!”

Kenny seethed at Angus, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You could tell that mayhem was a moment away, but then Hunham began to speak.

“Kenneth! Is that right?” he started, holding up his hands placatingly. “I don’t doubt that he did something to offend you, it’s his specialty. Perhaps I could purchase you gentleman something to imbibe, and we could let whatever this unfortunate incident is go the way of the dodo.” 

“The what?” Pinball Wizard sneered. 

“The dodo, it’s an extinct bird,” Angus grumbled, and Kenny put force behind his hook again, causing Miss Crane to butt in once more. 

“What he’s saying is he wants to buy you guys a beer!” She exclaimed, hoping that her explanation would ease the situation as quickly as possible. 

Kenny stared Angus down, then looked at you, cowering and scared. Maybe he took pity on you, the poor little Purple Heart’s daughter, or maybe he realized that what you had said about Angus’s social ineptitude was right, because he finally stepped back, lowering his hook. “Yeah, okay,” he nodded. 

“Same here,” Pinball Wizard said. “I’ll have a Miller.” 

It’s almost like he couldn’t help himself: “Champagne of beers!” Angus chuckled, and your arm shot out, smacking him across the stomach. You glared at him, and the smile fell off of his face.

You couldn’t even enjoy your food. Not that you were worried about Kenny or Pinball Wizard coming back for round two, but you couldn’t keep your mind off of your dad. Seeing everything had affected you for some reason, and you kept your mouth shut the whole time as you ruminated on it; the images of the newscast swirled in your head, and your least favorite but most common nightmare stayed in your mind— the Army claimed they couldn’t locate enough of your father’s remains to even send back a body, and you could only see remnants of your father in some field. Mostly, you saw his tattoo, big on his chest, the same one he had had since you were a baby, needled in as an homage to you— your father always called you his miracle, and he had a starburst right over his heart. You could only envision the starburst, charred and detached, laying in the grass somewhere in Vietnam, never to return home to you.

 You saw Hunham looking at you every so often, maybe checking if you were alright, but nobody said anything until you were gone and out the door. The energy had turned prickly and stiff, and even Angus’s voice cutting through was enough to make you jump.

“Why’d you buy those guys beer?” Angus asked. “They’re assholes.” 

“That’s one way to look at it,” Hunham grumbled, digging in his pocket for his car keys. “Here— catch.” He tossed his keys over to Angus, and his right hand raised and caught them deftly, almost reflexively. “How many boys do you know who have had their hands blown off?” He paused to give Angus a moment to respond, despite it being obvious that there was no answer, and he continued, “No, Barton boys don’t go to Vietnam! They go to Yale or Dartmouth or Cornell, whether they deserve to or not.”

“Except for Curtis Lamb,” Angus mumbled. 

“Except for Curtis Lamb!” Hunham exclaimed. It wasn’t hard to figure out the implication, and Angus swallowed thickly at you. 

“Were you ever in the military?” He asked Hunham, obviously looking to somehow change the subject.

“I tried to enlist in ‘41, but was rejected,” Hunham began, pointing at his eye, then tugging at his door handle, consequently mumbling something about “I have to get in over there”.

“They made me an air raid warden,” Hunham continued, breezing by you and Angus to slide into the passenger side door of the Nova, and both you and Angus wrinkled your noses at the sour smell that followed Hunham. “Gave me a whistle and everything… Helmet, arm band…” Hunham slid into the car, scooting over to his seat, and Angus sorta shook his head. 

“Before we get going, can I be candid with you?” Angus asked, leaning down to peer at Hunham through the open car door. You settled into the backseat, slightly thankful that you wouldn’t have to share space with Angus again (not that you minded on the ride up here), and Hunham grunted out an affirmative. “You smell.”

“Angus,” you frowned admonishingly. You were struck by the sheer and blatant rudeness, and you saw Hunham’s face fall sadly in the rearview mirror.

“Like fish,” Angus continued, getting in his own seat and shutting the car door. He wasn’t wrong, of course, but you never would have outright said anything like that. “And it’s really noticeable towards the end of the day; I can even smell it on your coat… Mind if I crack the window?”

Hunham sighed as Angus worked to turn the window crank, and Hunham said, “Trimethylaminuria.”

“Huh?” Angus grunted. 

“Trimethylaminuria,” Hunham repeated himself. “Means my body can’t break down trimethylamine. That’s the smell…” He paused for a moment to uncomfortably wipe his nose, and he added, “And, uh, yes, more towards the end of the day.” 

“Wow…” Angus said. “Your whole life?” Hunham nodded, and Angus perked up for just a moment. “No wonder you’re afraid of women!” 

“I am not…!” Hunham began, shaking his head. “Afraid of women!” 

“Sorry,” Angus mumbled as Hunham continued with an under-the-breath, “Jesus H. Christ.” 

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Angus added. “Dr. Gertler says I don’t always give consideration to my audience.” 

“Ah,” Hunham began. “And who is Dr. Gertler?” 

Angus looked back at you silently for just a moment, the tiniest acknowledgement of the fact that you were privy to this information, and he snapped at Hunham, “My shrink.”

“Has Dr. Gertler ever tried a good, swift kick in the ass?” Hunham asked, and you couldn’t help the scoffing giggle that left your mouth. 

“Okay, all right,” Angus chuckled mirthlessly. “Now your turn. Go ahead, tell me something about me. Something negative.” 

“Something negative about you?” Hunham asked in fake-shock. 

“Sure,” Angus shrugged. “Just one thing.” 

Hunham rolled his eyes. “Just one?” He paused for a moment, thinking about his answer, and he turned to look at you. “Anything to add, Miss?” 

You kept your mouth shut and shook your head quickly. “Nothing nice, anyway,” you said softly.

“I concur,” Hunham said, and he cranked up the Nova.

The rest of the ride back to Barton was quiet, listening to the wind whistling through the open window as nothing was said, and words were only finally exchanged as you and Angus parted at the doorway to your separate infirmary rooms. Hunham’s room was off down an adjacent hallway, and you had already heard the door shut by the time you spoke. 

“Oh,” you started, tugging at the bottom of the maroon sweater. “Here, sorry, I forgot—” 

“S’fine,” Angus said. “Don’t worry about it.” 

You nodded slowly. “I’ll run it through the wash and get it back to you,” you said, and Angus shook his head. 

“Keep it,” he said. “Looks better on you than it does on me.” 

“O-Oh,” you stuttered. “I mean, i-it looks pretty, um, expensive, are you sure you don’t—” 

“I’m sure,” Angus nodded. He looked down at his feet for a moment, and he softly added, “Thanks for taking care of me today.” 

You shrugged. “No big,” you said. 

“Big to me,” Angus mumbled. “I’ve never had a girl— or anyone, really— um… Make me feel like that.”

“Like what?” you asked. 

“Cared for,” Angus said. “Cared about. I was, umm, so nervous in there that I thought I was gonna shit and die. But you… You were so gentle, and so nice, it really helped me.” 

“S’what I’m here for,” you said. “See you tomorrow, Ang.” 

“Wait!” Angus said quickly as you put your hand on the doorknob to your room. “Can I, umm… Can I give you a hug?” 

You wrinkled your eyebrows in confusion but nodded all the same, and you stepped closer to him. His good arm wrapped around your middle, a little slow and stiff, like he had never even touched a girl before, let alone hugged one, and your arms went around his neck, holding him tight. He took a deep breath and settled his cheek against your temple, letting himself enjoy it, and your heartbeat picked up. 

You weren’t sure why, but you had a sneaky feeling that Angus had motives behind the embrace. Was he going to try to kiss you? A kiss was just a kiss, it didn’t mean that much in the grand scheme of things, but it would be your first kiss ever. Did you want Angus to be that for you? For the rest of your life, your first kiss would be with Angus Tully, some kid you went to boarding school with who was an asshole ninety-eight percent of the time and a genuine sweetheart the other two percent. Was two percent nice and caring enough, though? 

“Ang,” you whispered, stepping just a touch away from him to see his face. The lights in the hallway were half-turned off, only every other fluorescent bulb lit, and it left you and Angus in a slightly darker alcove of the hallway, and the dim light made shadows play on Angus’s thin face. His eyes looked half-lidded, like he was sleepy, but you could feel his heartbeat and heavy pulse— he was wide awake. “How’d you get that scar?” you asked softly, letting your fingers go to his lips and lightly trace his scarred and puffy upper lip. 

“Got beat up a few years ago,” Angus told you. “Busted my lip.”

“Ang,” you sighed in a hushed tone. “You’ve gotta stop giving people reasons to beat your ass.” 

Angus chuckled. “I can’t really help it…” he said, and trailed off for a moment, then added, “B-Babe.” 

“Are you nervous?” you whispered. “There’s no reason to be.”

“V’just…” Angus started. “I’ve never…” 

“Me neither,” you reminded him. “But I want it to be you.” 

Silently, Angus shifted forwards, pressing his body fully against yours again, his arm going tight around your waist, and he helped you rise up on your toes to fully reach him. Then, before you could even think about what you were doing, you leaned into him and, your eyes slipping closed, touched your lips to his. His lips were warm and soft, and his fingers itched in the back of your shirt. You really had no idea what you were doing, but it felt right, and you tilted your head a bit as Angus put force behind his kiss and held you even tighter. 

You felt lightheaded as you slowly pulled out of the kiss, touching your forehead against Angus’s and sighing. A smile slowly slipped across your lips, and a laugh escaped while your fingers tangled in the curls at the very bottom of his neck. “Um, thanks,” you whispered. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that all day… Since this morning, y’know…” Angus admitted. “I just, um, didn’t wanna do it in front of Hunham.” 

“I understand,” you told him. “Thanks, Ang.” 

“Are you okay, by the way?” Angus asked. “You got really… I don’t know. Upset. Back with those guys.” 

“Oh,” you mumbled. “Y-Yeah, just, um… That guy was in Nam, and after the stress of the rest of the day, kinda just seeing that and remembering was…” 

“Fuck,” Angus sighed. “I’m really sorry. I should’ve stood up for you.” 

You shook your head. “That’s not your job,” you told him. 

“Well, yeah, it’s not,” Angus started. “But that doesn’t mean that I can’t stop it.” 

You bit your bottom lip as you thought, and you mumbled, “Sure. Alright. Umm, I’ll see you in the morning, Ang.” 

“One more for the road?” Angus asked, and you rolled your eyes at his little cocky smile. 

“I’m not even ten feet away from you for the rest of the night,” you chuckled. “Some road there.” 

“But there’s a wall,” Angus whined softly. “I’m also trying to act cool here, and ask for another kiss without asking—”

You leaned up and gave him one more kiss, quicker and less emotional than the first time, but Angus still locked eyes with you and badly contained a smile when you parted, just like before. “I’m trying to not, umm…” he started, looking back down at your feet. “Not get ahead of myself here, but um… No, we can-we can talk about that tomorrow.”

“Talk about what?” you asked, but Angus shook his head. 

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “We’ll... Tomorrow. Get some sleep, okay?” 

Even though you were confused by his trepidation, you agreed anyway. “You too,” you told him. “If your shoulder starts to hurt, just… Let me know. I’ll see if I can help.” 

“Sure,” Angus nodded. He hesitated to step away into his own room for a moment, and he leaned in and kissed your forehead before scurrying away, like he was afraid of the consequences. 

You went into your own room and closed the door, taking a deep breath. You had kissed Angus. You weren’t sure if you were more excited about it being Angus or just the kiss itself happening, but you felt giddy and you bit your cheek as you smiled. Carefully, you went about undressing from the day, slipping into pajama pants and doubling up on socks, and your fingers brushed down the front of the sweater. It was soft, wool, and the stitching on the cuffs and around the bottom and neck proved it to be more expensive than anything you could ever dream of. 

Angus told you to keep it. Were you like those girls who wore their boyfriend’s jackets now? The girls at Central wore their boyfriends’ varsity jackets when it got cold, the ones with their names across the backs, showing everyone who they were dating. You had never really cared too much about the varsity jackets, but, then again, there had never really been anyone that you would have considered even trying to wear their jacket. First, you’d have to figure out if Angus was even your boyfriend before you started to get all giddy about having one. 

Was that what he wanted to ask, but held off for tomorrow? Did he want to ask you to be his girlfriend? It was exciting, but you understood why he had chickened out of asking you then and there. You would be his first girlfriend, and that was intimidating. Maybe he didn’t want to be your boyfriend, and just wanted to be able to hug you and kiss you whenever he wanted. 

Your mind began to race. Angus wanted to kiss you, but what else did he want? Did he want to have sex? Did he even care about that? Had he even thought that far out yet? Certainly, he had. He was a boy after all— boys’ brains are made up of 50% sex and 50% violence. Maybe you were just overthinking it. It was entirely possible that Angus didn’t even want to be your boyfriend, and just got caught up in the moment and kissed you. 

Your head hurt from being too analytical, and you slipped into bed and pulled the blankets to your chest. Tomorrow, Christmas Eve, you and Angus could talk about everything you wanted. Maybe, you thought with a sleepy smile. Your Christmas present would be a boyfriend. 

[mmelete]

Ranking the LU Links on Social Media

Wild and Hyrule. Wild would be a a YouTube vlogger. Hyrule is his usual guest and they explore abandoned hospitals/schools. nobody knows how they’re still alive, but hey, they’re making bank so—-8/10

(Wild also has a cooking channel that Hyrule is notoriously banned from.)

Four. I want to say that Four does video essays about random topics, never really shows his face and gains thousands of followers. Sometimes, you can really tell which Color created the video (Blue is notoriously known for hating on badly done smithing techniques and Vio slanders every YA romance book known to mankind). Also has an ASMR channel (fire crackling and 2800 hour loop of metal pipe sounds). 8/10

Time wouldn’t know how to upload a video erm ugh uh I mean, Time would def just video silly clips of his animals or pretty scenery and upload it. Not really one for the views, just for vibes. 4/10 (the video quality is grainier than sand)

Speaking of silly animals…Twilight either just post little snippets of his goats or he’d totally have a channel dedicated to his strangely very intelligent, very strong “husky”…and if Twilight and the “husky” have never been seen in the same room together, well, that’s their problem…5/10

Wind. Girl vs. Boy challenges and trick shots. Occasionally streams a Minecraft SMP. Has over one million subscribers. Need I say more. 7/10

Sky. ASMR and Woodcarving tips galore. Sun runs the social media behind the scenes. Has a bunch of random tips and tricks for very niche things, but he’s super chill. The Bob Ross of Everything but Painting. 10/10

Legend. There is absolutely no way that you will convince me that Legend DOESN’T do fashion/cosplaying stuff. Makeup tutorials, design reviews and color palette challenges…Warriors is his usual guest and the fans LOVE their snappy interactions. 9/10

Warriors. Is a model on the side but only really does YT for his friends. Part of me wants to believe he’ll do some makeup tutorials, but I have a gut feeling this man has a whole channel dedicated to hair care and sewing/knitting. Artemis found his channel one time and that’s why Warriors joined LU and went through Dink’s portal /jk. 5/10

[lucky-clover-gazette]

kings rising highlights & annotations

chapter 3

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

The Regent’s forces were rivers of darker red, driving inroads into their lines, mingling their armies together, like a stream of blood hitting water, then diffusing.

He killed, and it was simply that men got out of his way, or were dead.

He had grown used to something that had been temporary, like the flash of exhilaration in a pair of blue eyes for a moment catching his own. All of that tangled together inside him, and tightened, through the killing, into a single hard knot.

something about the way this is written just hits me in the abandonment issues

‘If the Prince of Vere shows himself, I will kill him.’ Nikandros half spat the words.

nik private twitter venting moment #2

The ground was wet, his legs were mud-spattered above his knees—mud in dry summer, because the ground was blood.

i don’t know man i feel like after a point you have to just be like. hey. why are we doing this again? like yeah i get that fighting in a military force can be for A Cause but unless you’re directly involved in enacting ideological change, aren’t you basically just cannon fodder

On the far side of the field, he saw the flash of embroidered red. That is how Akielons win wars, isn’t it? Why fight the whole army, when you can just—

i’m guessing the part in italics in a previous laurent line, about damen killing auguste at marlas?

He used the little name that Damen had been called as a boy; the childhood name, reserved for intimates.

the fact that is was kastor specifically asking the veretians to call him that…

Damen realised that he was on his knees, his own chest heaving like the chest of his horse.

laurent’s horse will be glad to know that damen’s horse lived. because, as we all know, they’re in love

‘Over?’ The word grated out of him. All he could think was that if the Regent still lived, nothing was over.

it is interesting how, even when he thinks laurent screwed him over (see previous chapter), damen has this uncontrollable rage towards the regent rather than laurent. i think this has more to do with the regent killing his men and trying invade his country, though. and maybe just that it’s easier to hate him than laurent. “regent = bad” is something that’s easy for damen to comprehend right now, while laurent’s whole thing is a lot more confusing and intimate

And with returning awareness, he saw as if for the first time the bodies of the men that he had killed to get to the Regent’s decoy, and beyond that, the evidence of what he had done. The field was a rutted earthworks strewn with the dead. The ground was a churned mess of flesh, ineffective armour and riderless horses. Killing ceaselessly, for hours, he had not been aware of the scale of it, of what he had caused to happen here. He saw flashes behind his eyelids, faces of the men he’d killed. Those left standing were all Akielon; and they stared at Damen as at something impossible.

damen holy shit… i guess that’s one way to reclaim your authority. and he didn’t even mean it as a sign of intimidation, he just wanted to get to the “regent.” who by the way was just some random guy RIP

‘Find the highest-ranked Veretian still living and tell them they have leave to bury their dead,’ said Damen. There was a fallen Akielon banner on the ground beside him. ‘Charcy is claimed for Akielos.’ As he rose, Damen wrapped his hand around its wooden pole and planted it in the earth.

not sure if calling it an akielion victory despite the combined forces is just customary, or intentionally out of spite. i’m leaning on the former, since it’s damen and not laurent we're talking about

The herald came cantering across the devastated landscape on a white, glossy mare with a curved neck and a high, flying tail. Beautiful and untouched, he made a mockery of the sacrifice of the brave men on the field. His banner streamed out behind him, and its blazon was Laurent’s starburst, in blue and shining gold.

here is an excerpt from a post i made while reading king’s rising for the first time:

“damen when he realizes he’s not in a slow burn romance with problematic beginnings, but a complex psychological thriller in which the smartest fictional character i have ever personally encountered has decided to make his life a living hell and also they’re in love with each other but the psychological thriller stuff is way more important to his bitchy blonde nightmare malewife and he is SO down bad and just has to deal with laurent’s mean girls 4d chess petty nonsense bc it’s enrichment for him and damen will kill anyone who gets in laurent’s way and he can’t even pick up the very very VERY clear implications of laurent’s trauma that would probably allow them to reach some kind of vulnerability equilibrium in their relationship”

on a re-read, i think this is a great time to dig into that a little more ;)

SO what i love about so much of laurent’s choices in the next few chapters is the fact that much of what he says and does is entirely petty. like, yes there’s always strategy and trauma and depth as usual, but i think it’s not denying him depth to say that he is 20 years old, this is his first love in the midst of an extremely stressful and messy situation, and despite his own wishes he cannot prevent his emotions from affecting his actions. laurent has had control over so much of the situation with damen thus far, both with the power dynamics between them as master and “slave” and the fact that damen didn’t know that laurent knew who he was. but now laurent knows that damen knows, so all of his previous and future actions are going to be under damen’s scrutiny in that context. they’re equals now, and the secrets reinforcing laurent’s prior cognitive dissonance have dissolved. that leaves laurent vulnerable (especially after being tortured and genuinely letting damen down even if by accident) and emotional compromised (he has no choice but to see damen as damianos, and with that comes all of the auguste baggage and the fact that they’ve already fallen in love and had sex under different circumstances).

all that is to say, the next few chapters are laurent’s mean girls era. he is, again, still being smart and strategic (4d chess), and his feelings are valid and his trauma is real. however, he is also just being MEAN, for the same reasons classic high school movie mean girls tend to be: he feels insecure and vulnerable about his romantic attachment to damen, stressed out by the insane amount of power he definitely should not have, and self-righteous about all the ways the world has conspired against him. regina george might have been the villain of the movie, but she was the hero of her own story. janis and cady methodically dismantled her life as a popular, powerful, and confident person. that’s why she got revenge with the burn book instead of looking inward and acknowledging her own issues, of which there were many. she had a machiavellian view of life, in which mean people always won, and so being mean in retaliation was how she could protect herself from being a victim.

that is laurent’s perspective too, for a lot of this series. we don’t know anything about regina’s backstory, or heather chandler’s (another great example), but we do know exactly why laurent has the worldview he does. he used to be sweet and it made him a victim. so he is mean to protect himself, even if that robs him of his sweetness. damen’s integrity and honor have challenged laurent’s worldview, though, and that has been the source of a lot of laurent’s slow reconsideration. but now that laurent can’t just pretend that damen isn't damianos, now that he has to accept this situation in its full interpersonal and political messiness, he isn’t nearly as inspired. laurent assumes, now that laurent has gone “mask off,” that damen will realize that laurent doesn’t deserve the love he has shown him in the past. because laurent has been mean to damen, by lying about his awareness even at the times damen thought he was being earnest and sweet. that makes damen a victim and fool—two things laurent deeply fears being, and therefore assumes everyone else also fears in themselves. two things the regent had wanted laurent to consider himself, by placing damen in his life in the first place.

therefore, in his insecurity and vulnerability and anger, as a 20 year old just experiencing his first love, as someone with a lot of power and stress who cannot waste time or energy on genuinely confronting his own flaws in good faith, laurent is gearing up to be sososososo mean to damen specifically in the next few chapters. like comedically mean. aimlessly mean. pathetically mean. on purpose. ultimately, if he must be alone (which he obviously must, says laurent's brain), laurent would rather be the villain of someone else’s story than a victim in his own. that, at least, is similar to book 1 laurent—but while he was a cat playing with a mouse in book 1, in a position to do serious damage to his opponent, now he’s more like…. a cat, slapping another cat. evenly matched, but still throwing hands. transparently insecure and pathetic, only effective in doing emotional damage in ways he doesn’t intend. damen isn’t hurt by the petty things laurent says and does, because he sees through them for what they are. he’s hurt because laurent sees them as necessary to protect himself and keep his distance, when all damen wants is to make things okay between them. which laurent would never expect, because he assumes that damen wants nothing to do with him, and would be happier and better off if they stayed apart.

basically: unstoppable force (damen's persistent caring) meets unmovable object (laurent's refusal to be genuinely cared for). the only way for this cycle to end is for damen to choose to stop, or for laurent to choose to yield. laurent will eventually make that choice, but he still has to be a huge bitch about it first. he's going to lash out at damen and challenge him to stop caring, but ultimately fail—both because damen is just built different, and because he's lowkey written as a fantasy partner for emotionally volatile people with attachment and abandonment issues.

rest assured, laurent’s genre is still psychological thriller, but it’s also now a high school drama movie. and damen is about to get a bitter taste of that, with pretty much no choice in the matter. this poor man will have to deal with laurent’s bitchy theatrics as they try to co-parent an army, and he’s already too emotionally invested and aware of laurent’s habit of lashing out when he’s in pain to genuinely fight back.

this could also be called laurent’s s1 catra era, but i’m not sure what the venn diagram of capri and she ra enjoyers looks like. to those who get it—laurent is doing what catra did at princess prom for the next several chapters, down to the “hey adora” = “hello lover.” this dynamic is very fun to read because it doesn’t overstay its welcome. it’s different from laurent in book 1, or catra in general, because it’s so clearly pathetic, damen and laurent are on the same side of the war, and damen could technically make it stop at any point. so i think it’s very very fun, while it lasts >:)

The herald reined in in front of him. Damen looked at the mare’s shiny coat, not dirt-covered, not heaving or darkened with sweat, and then at the herald’s livery, in immaculate condition, unflecked by the dust of the road. He felt it rising at the back of his throat. ‘Where is he?’

damen showed up to the prom laurent planned with him to unite their rival high schools, only to find himself dateless and laurent’s promised fancy party decorations missing. this is the moment where damen checks snapchat (i was in high school from 2013-2017) and sees everyone from vere high at their own immaculately-decorated prom, where laurent is being crowned king. little does damen know, laurent was blindsided by the vere-only prom and forced via social pressure to be there since everyone elected him prom king. they’re mad at each other for a high school drama pacing-typical period of time, and then make up when they realize the misunderstanding and reassert their dedication to each other.

laurent did still murder someone with a chair, though. but like a metal folding chair from the band room

The herald’s back hit the ground. Damen had dragged him bodily from his horse into the dirt, where he lay dazed and winded, with Damen’s knee in his stomach. Damen’s hand was around his neck.

His grip tightened before it opened enough to allow the herald to speak. The herald rolled onto his side and coughed as Damen released him. He pulled something from inside his jacket. Parchment, with two lines on it. You have Charcy. I have Fortaine. He stared at the words, written in familiar, unmistakable handwriting. I’ll receive you at my fort.

lamen hr complaint #5 (unnamed herald): ragdolling this guy over what should be impersonal, professional correspondence

also, because i can't help myself:

Fortaine eclipsed even Ravenel, powerful and beautiful, its towers high-flung, its jutting crenelles biting the sky. It rose to a sheer, impossible height and, from every vantage, it was flying Laurent’s banners. The pennants seemed to float on the air effortlessly, patterned silk in blue and gold.

WELCOME HOME, BROTHER KILLER

Rows upon rows of peaked, coloured tents were pitched on the field outside Fortaine’s walls, the sun lighting the pavilions, the banners, and the silks of a graceful encampment. It was a city of tents, and it camped a fresh, intact force of Laurent’s men, who had not fought and died through the morning. The constructed arrogance of the display was intentional. It said, exquisitely: Did you exert yourself at Charcy? I have been here examining my nails.

this is funny and i wouldn’t put it past laurent, but also i’m not sure if he like. really meant this part of it specifically to piss damen off. he was just tortured idk he probably just wanted things nice. a good part of the fun of lamen divorce era is remembering that damen’s interpretation of events isn’t necessarily accurate, and that it’s hilarious how he interprets things as petty personal slights even when they might not be. they’re both so obsessed with each other and it’s great

Nikandros reined in alongside him. ‘Uncle and nephew are alike. They send other men to do their fighting for them.’

nik tweets this verbatim on priv (#3)

Damen was silent. What he felt in his chest was a hardness like anger. He looked at the elegant silken city and thought about men dying on the field at Charcy.

but not exactly anger—betrayal? heartache? self-consciousness?

Some kind of herald’s greeting party was riding towards them. He gripped the Regent’s bloody, torn banner in his hand.

the phrase “greeting party” just made me imagine them rolling up with like confetti and a speaker blasting the celebration song. while damen holds the bloody torn banner

‘Just me,’ said Damen, and put his heels into his horse. About halfway across the field, he was met by the herald, who arrived with an anxious party of four attendants saying something urgent about protocol. Damen listened to four words of it. ‘Don’t worry,’ said Damen. ‘He’s expecting me.’

lamen hr complaint #6 (more unnamed heralds): disregarding protocol

(also “he’s expecting me” girlllll)

Without even pulling off his gauntlets, he strode to the tent. He knew its high scalloped folds; he knew the starburst pennant. No one stopped him. Not even when he reached the tent and dismissed the soldier at the entrance with a single order: ‘Go.’ He didn’t bother to see if his order was obeyed. The soldier let him through: of course he did; this had all been planned. Laurent was ready for him whether he came docilely behind the herald or, as he did now, the dirt and the sweat of the battle still on him, blood dried in the places where a cursory swipe with a cloth had not reached it. He swept the tent flap back with an arm, and stepped inside.

again i do have to question, beyond the drama, how much of this is as intentional and petty as damen thinks it is. like, the heralds literally cite protocol, damen knows this is the correct way for a camp to be run. i think he is assuming a lot here, although it’s reasonable to do so. we have seen in the past that damen assumes things of laurent that laurent is just like, “uh. not everything i do is on purpose” about, or damen is just WRONG about. i just wonder if damen’s approach here confirms things laurent was worried about (damen thinking poorly of him now that they’re on even ground), further fueling the fire of his rejection-sensitive bitchiness. not that it’s an excuse, or even undeserved, but it’s good to remember that there are two sides to the story.

like to damen, this is an angry post-battle rush of a moment to confront laurent and speak his truth (he doesn’t know laurent knows who he is), but to laurent this is like. post-torture and escape, and basically being thrown into the deep end of vulnerability with damianos and what this all implies to auguste’s memory. we’re not getting the best or most rational version of either of them right now, which is great for the drama but also makes the narration less reliable

This was the place Laurent had chosen.

right. damen thinks laurent chose this place to hear the truth about him, because the “you have charcy” note implies that at some point laurent probably figured out that damen is damianos. therefore laurent chose this occasion for them to meet each other, as they truly are by birth, for the first time. damen just doesn’t know the twist that laurent has always known who he’s been, and has chosen everything else before now with that knowledge too

There were a few furnishings, low seats, cushions, and in the background a trestle table hung with its own coverings, and set with shallow bowls of sugared pears and oranges. As though they were going to nibble at sweetmeats.

the same guy who ordered the “sorry you were given a severed head and discovered a suicide” fruit basket in prince’s gambit had to order a “sorry i gaslighted you for 2 books but not really because you also technically gaslighted me” fruit basket in kings rising

He lifted his gaze from the table to the exquisitely attired figure leaned with a single shoulder against the tent pole, watching him.

lucky number laurent lean #13!

Laurent said, ‘Hello, lover.’

It was not going to be simple.

this being the follow-up line to “hello lover” is such a good combination of funny and tension-building. like laurent’s cunty tableau immediately put out damen’s fiery righteous indignation and now he’s just like “oh this is going to suck.”

He made himself breathe through that. ‘Your men think you’re a coward. Nikandros thinks that you deceived us. That you sent us to Charcy, and left us there to die by your uncle’s sword.’ ‘And is that what you think?’ said Laurent. ‘No.’ Damen said, ‘Nikandros doesn’t know you.’

this is really a testament to pacat’s cleverness, how in chapter 1 there are a lot of moments where it’s almost like damen is directly saying he thinks laurent screwed him over—nikandros and the herald saying it and him not disagreeing, him accepting the reality that laurent is not going to show up—but he never does truly say that he thinks the abandonment was on purpose. because he didn’t, and he doesn’t, which makes sense. but he’s still angry and confused and also just concerned about how laurent is taking the “news” that he’s damianos. how much of damen’s anger about laurent’s composed appearance is projection of his anxiety about laurent seeing him as he truly is, a powerful authority figure in his own right who just won a battle against insane odds?

it’s so ambiguously written that it’s almost like pacat WANTS us to spiral. which i did, and will probably continue to do, so well-played. these books are like evil catnip to anxious overthinking theater people with attachment issues and an interest in understanding complex fictional situations to cope with the fact that real life never makes enough sense. also kinky gays but let's be real that's just a trojan horse for the other stuff

‘And you do.’ Damen looked at the arrangement of Laurent’s weight, the careful way he was holding his body. Laurent’s left hand was still casually resting against the tent pole. Deliberately, he stepped forward, and clasped Laurent’s right shoulder. Nothing, for a moment. Damen tightened his grip, and ground in with his thumb. Harder. He watched Laurent turn ashen. Finally, Laurent said, ‘Stop.’

proving that he knows laurent well enough to pick up from his posture alone exactly where he’s been injured. also they’re both so messy, like let’s put pressure on each other’s literal and figurative wounds instead of just talking about our misconceptions and feelings, awesome

He let go. Laurent had wrenched back and was clutching his shoulder, where the blue of his doublet had darkened. Blood, welling up from some newly bandaged, subterranean place, and Laurent was staring at him, his eyes oddly wide. ‘You wouldn’t break an oath,’ said Damen, past the feeling in his chest. ‘Even to me.’

damen proving to himself, and proving to laurent, that he knows that laurent didn’t screw him over, and instead was injured and failed to show up. laurent is shocked by how quickly damen picked up on this. also ow

He had to force himself back.

he doesn’t want to see laurent in pain, or know that he’s causing it :( which is especially unfortunate given the conversation they’re about to have about damen murdering laurent’s brother

Laurent didn’t answer. He still had a hand clutched to his shoulder, his fingers sticky with blood. Laurent said, ‘Even to you?’

“you wouldn’t break an oath, even to me” (“even to me” being a sort of freudian slip, meaning “i killed your brother, and i’ve known that this whole time and i haven’t told you, and you have a good reason to hate me for that”) “even to you?” (to damen’s incomplete understanding: “well i know who you are now, and if i’d known before i would have broken every oath to you i’ve ever made”)

He made himself look at Laurent. The truth was an awful presence in his chest.

babygirl it’s about to get so much awfuller

He thought of the single night they had spent together. He thought of Laurent, giving himself, dark-eyed and vulnerable, and of the Regent, who knew how to break a man.

damen totally sees laurent as his “victim” right now, set up well by him re-opening laurent’s physical wound. damen fucked this man while knowing that he (damen) killed his (laurent’s) brother, and put trust in him. if they were normal, or this was a normal story, that’s where the confrontation would end. it would be that simple—damen didn’t mean to hurt laurent but still did, and laurent has to forgive him for that, and forgive himself for being fooled—and then it would get tearfully resolved because they love each other so much that it doesn't matter. but they are not normal, and this is not a normal story, so…

Outside, two armies were poised to fight. The moment was here, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He remembered the Regent’s constant suggestion: Bed my nephew. He had done that, wooed him, won him. Charcy, he saw, hadn’t mattered to the Regent. It hadn’t meant anything. The Regent’s real weapon against Laurent had always been Damen himself.

damen thinks the regent’s plan had been to weaken laurent by putting him in circumstances where he’d unknowingly make himself vulnerable with his brother’s killer, triggering him emotionally and destroying his judgment. i'm pretty sure that this was basically his intention, but had also made sure that it would also torture laurent even if he did recognize damen on the spot.

personally i think the regent knew that laurent knew in book 1 through observing his reaction, but had planned for both possibilities in advance. what he hadn't expected, though, was for laurent and damen to start genuinely working together instead of against each other. this happens early as the thing with patras, and really pops off during the botched assassination attempt.

charcy was meant to drive a wedge between them, to correct the regent's previous miscalculation. and given the inevitable truth damen must now reveal, there's nothing he can really do to stop laurent from being upset.

‘I’ve come to tell you who I am.’ Laurent was so keenly familiar, the shade of his hair, the strapped down clothing, the full lips that he held tense or cruelly repressed, the ruthless asceticism, the unbearable blue eyes. ‘I know who you are, Damianos,’ said Laurent. Damen heard it, as the interior of the tent seemed to change, so that all of the objects in it took on a different shape. ‘Did you think,’ said Laurent, ‘I wouldn’t recognise the man who killed my brother?’

the way i YELLED during my first read. i remember even like posting something before, like “oh my god damen just tell him put this poor man out of his misery,” and then after i got to this part i immediately went and deleted that post

Each word was an ice chip. Painful, sharp; a shard. Laurent’s voice was perfectly steady.

do you think he practiced this?

‘I knew in the palace, when they dragged you in front of me,’ said Laurent. The words continued, steady, relentless. ‘I knew in the baths when I ordered you flayed. I knew—’

he definitely practiced this

‘At Ravenel?’ said Damen.

“you knew when you kissed me and let me fuck you????”

‘If you knew,’ said Damen, ‘how could you—’ ‘Let you fuck me?’ His own chest hurt, so that he almost didn’t notice the signs of it in Laurent, the control, the face, pale at any time, now white.

he almost didn’t notice the signs, which means he still totally did. because even now, damen is attentive and caring towards laurent

‘I needed a victory at Charcy. You provided it. It was worth enduring,’ Laurent spoke the terrible, lucid words, ‘your fumbling attentions for that.’

LIARRRRRRR

It hurt so much it took the breath from his throat. ‘You’re lying.’ Damen’s heart was pounding. ‘You’re lying.’ The words were too loud. ‘You thought I was leaving. You practically threw me out.’ He said it, as the realisation blossomed inside him. ‘You knew who I was. You knew who I was the night we made love.’

tbh i think this kind of realization would make me have a panic attack on the spot. also do you think this is the kind of betrayal he’s been trying so hard to avoiding confronting, coming from kastor and jokaste? but here he has no choice to confront it, because laurent is forcing him to understand the depths of the deception. no avoiding it now

He thought of Laurent surrendering, not the first time, but the second, the slower, sweeter time, the tension in him, the way he had— ‘You weren’t making love to a slave, you were making love to me.’

very true, but laurent isn’t ready to deal with it. he can’t keep up the cognitive dissonance in the present, but that doesn’t mean he’s about to accept that it was real in the past. instead he’ll just lash out.

And he couldn’t think that through clearly but he could catch a glimmer of it, a glimmer of the edge of it. ‘I thought you wouldn’t, I thought you’d never—’

OF COURSE damen suspected, at some points, that laurent knew. but this tells us that he’d ultimately dismissed the notion because it would have been insane for laurent to kiss and fuck him, while knowing his real identity. “i thought you wouldn’t, i thought you’d never—“

this is similar to how i thought about it during my first read—i suspected for all of book 1, and some of book 2, but then figured that the story was taking a different direction because how the hell could the plot points of “laurent knows who damen is” and “laurent makes himself vulnerable to damen and does a romance/sex about it” possibly be compatible? laurent, a deeply traumatized and self-protective person, wouldn’t and would never. except i underestimated laurent’s capacity for self-delusion, and overestimated the amount of control he truly has over his emotions and impulses, beneath all the posturing. damen, here, is recognizing that he’s made similar miscalculations, and now he’s seeing laurent as he truly is. they’re both seeing each other, truly, for the first time.

‘Laurent, six years ago, when I fought Auguste, I—’ ‘Don’t you say his name.’ The words were forced out of Laurent. ‘Don’t you ever say his name, you killed my brother.’

i like the simplicity of this. just the plainness of “you killed my brother.” laurent’s language is so often clever and cagey and embellished, but that last sentiment is raw and informal, and what we the reader are probably screaming in our heads. because yeah, holy shit, damen killed laurent’s brother. it’s a pretty hard thing to argue against, or ignore. “you lied to me” “you killed my brother” “you flogged me” “you killed my brother” “you forgot to do the dishes” “you killed my brother”

Laurent was breathing shallowly, almost panting as he spoke, his hands rigid on the edge of the table behind him.

his practiced words are saying one thing, but his body is very obviously having a panic attack. this scene isn’t nearly as much of a laurent mean girl moment as it seemed during a rushed first read. that’s actually kind of a relief to me, bc it made me sad to interpret him as so heartless and unfazed the first time around. even if “hello lover” is an iconic moment, it’s a performance more than anything else. and pacat shows us this sooner than i recalled or first perceived. she’s not torturing us, the reader, as much as she’s torturing both damen and laurent. and it’s not even like a lazy misunderstanding kind of torture, this is genuinely complicated and they’re both in the wrong and they both are justified in this pain and hurt. i just couldn’t see that as well the first time, having binged like all of book 2 already and having no idea what would happen next and honestly just being shocked and betrayed and compelled by the massive mislead with laurent’s awareness of the situation

‘Is that what you want to hear, that I knew who you were and I still let you fuck me, my brother’s killer, who cut him down like an animal on the field?’

you know he doesn’t, laurent, that’s just what you’re telling yourself now that you’re forced to confront it. you started this scene with “hello lover” and your prepared speech, hoping to destroy damen emotionally, but once again you’ve just kinda played yourself. maybe just cool it with the emotional gambits for now, when it comes to damen, bc they only really seem to come back and hurt you (oh fuck he can’t hear me)

‘Shall I ask you how you did it? What he looked like when your sword went in?’ ‘No,’ said Damen.

laurent, shaking, pale, looks like he’s about to pass out: “you bastard, tell me about how you murdered my brother as i think about the fact that i let you fuck me in a similar way, go ahead just make it hurt more”

damen, not a therapist but still emotionally intelligent enough to know this isn’t really about punishing him: no, i don’t think i will. can you like sit down

‘Or shall I tell you about the illusion of the man who gave me good counsel. Who stood by me. Who never lied to me.’ ‘I never lied to you.’

that italicized “i” is interesting. is it an accusation of laurent’s own lying and hypocrisy, or a specification that damen never directly told laurent he wasn’t damianos? given damen’s well-established integrity, i’m guessing it’s the first option. again with the mutual moral arbitration. and damen wouldn’t want to take such a weak a cop-out as “well i never technically said it,” it’s just not typical of his character.

The words were awful in the silence that followed them. ‘“Laurent, I am your slave”?’ said Laurent. He felt the breath forced out from his lungs.

of course laurent takes it as the second option, though, and implies that by swearing himself to laurent and then bedding him damen was directly lying about his identity. because to laurent, damen =/= damianos. a slave can’t be a prince. so damianos, the prince, must have been intentionally lying about being damen, the slave. and that’s actually easier, and less painful, and less complicated to accept than any kind of nuanced alternative.

‘Don’t,’ he said, ‘talk about it like—’ ‘Like?’ ‘Like it was cold-blooded; like I controlled it. Like we didn’t both close our eyes and pretend I was a slave.’ He made himself say the exposing words. ‘I was your slave.’

he’s right. nothing much to add here. damen wasn't just literally laurent's slave, he had devoted himself emotionally as well, and he's admitting it here despite the fact that it makes him vulnerable—something laurent is too much of a (traumatized, understandable) coward to do himself. i love damen's characterization so much

‘There was no slave,’ said Laurent. ‘He never existed. I don’t know what manner of man stands before me now. All I know is that I am facing him for the first time.’ ‘He is here.’ His flesh ached as if he had been prised open. ‘We are the same.’

this gives us some insight to laurent’s actions in book 1—not necessarily excusing them, but making them fit better into what we’ve since learned about his moral code. it ties things together, which isn’t the same as making them simpler or easier to like. pacat is very very VERY good at establishing continuous moral ambiguity in her characters, and does not rush the slow burn of making ends meet. so when she does eventually begin to connect things, it’s satisfying, because it hasn’t been all been spelled out the whole time so readers don’t have to think for themselves. this, in reference to a lot of the series’s more problematic themes, is exactly why i think people end up seeing capri as apologism or glamorization. but by claiming that, i also think they’re exposing themselves as impatient, shallow, and (sorry) simply lazy.

but i don't just want to be reductive and uncharitable, because that would be shallow and lazy too. to be perfectly clear, i honestly can't blame people for disliking this series, and not being willing or able to have patience and understanding for its more problematic elements. this series is marketed as romance/erotica. it started as indulgent kink fic. it ended up evolving into its current state during its development—and i'm really glad it did, but that doesn't change the fact that so much of its marketing and premise imply certain things that it doesn't quite deliver. and if you look up the series today, as it's still being published years after its completion, it's still marketed in a way i find somewhat misleading. to the extent that when i picked it up, it was in an intentional attempt to expand my own horizons—i wanted to challenge myself with indulgent shameless problematic porn/romance, as opposed to the weak-ass "enemies" to lovers running rival bakeries gay romance novels with canva covers that haven't worked for me in the past. the logic was basically, "well, if i don't like romance on that side of the scale, maybe i'll like the opposite extreme, or at least learn more about what i don't like." and i did feel pretty challenged during book 1, to the point that for a while i only kept reading out of morbid curiosity and vague horniness rather than any genuine expectation of depth or satisfying storytelling. it was only around the assassination scene in book 1 that i started to see the book as something capable of more depth and intrigue than just like kinky debauchery, and it pretty much just snowballed from there. and as someone who frequently reads about these dark topics in other genres and contexts, i was familiar enough with the things happening on the page to at least stomach them and push foward.

however, if i was coming at the series from a different place—like if i loved cozy romance and had very little familiarity with reading about these topics—i can see the first book especially being very blindsiding and distressing, and not wanting to engage with it further. that's not laziness, it just means that the book wasn't for me.

and the nuance doesn't end there. one of the things i love most about this series is that, even if i was just looking for shameless slavekink porn and decidedly did not want to rise to the occasion of depth or thematic exploration, i would also walk away unsatisfied. because the truly problematic shit in these books is not shameless at all, and indulgence never comes without a cost. there are a few distasteful moments that make me roll my eyes, and the garden scene definitely prompts a Conversation—but as a whole, i think pacat is very aware of the moral implications of these themes. and i also think she's perfectly aware of the fact that many people get off on them.

this series almost feels like an accidental study of, like, the psychological implications of being a person compelled by dub-con and problematic kink, finding a sort of gratification in situations where those things ar kind of inevitable (like they are for damen in book 1). AND this is made even more complicated and brave by the fact that laurent is, very relevantly, a victim of serious sexual assault. like, as hot as some of the scenes in this book are, i really don't think it makes itself easy for people to just uncritically get themselves off to. it doesn't encourage shame, but it does encourage introspection. and a lot of people simply don't read erotica and romance to introspect. (couldn't be me though. if it isn't clear, i love the laurent of vere "having insane mindfucking sex fully clothed across the room" approach to eroticism).

i feel like it's actually kind of funny that i specifically got here, as a person who almost always reads books that force dark introspection, and assumed that this erotica/romance book would be mindless, but ended up with gestures vaguely instead. for me, coming across this series and realizing what it truly is was an incredibly happy accident. but for others, i completely understand how it could be the exact opposite, and it's not lazy or shallow to realize that you misunderstood what you were getting yourself into and step away.

what is lazy and shallow, though, is to either DNF and review based on those misconceptions, or keep reading simply to fuel your own disdain and discomfort. ultimately, i think that the true error of people who walk into capri wanting shameless porn or untroubling romance is the fact that they keep reading, even when it becomes clear that the book isn't doing that. and then they decide to evaluate the book based on expectations and standards that aren't the ones the author or fans have for the work itself. people seem to take out their anger towards the SUBJECTS of slavery or rape in fiction themselves on capri, rather then the way capri specifically portrays them. either because they fucking stopped reading the book and just wanted to go on a tangent on the topics in general, or hate-read to confirm their own pre-existing bias.

my point is, nobody has to read things that trigger or upset them, and it's okay to just pass on fictional stuff that makes you feel bad or frustrated. aspects of this series made me feel bad and frustrated, even on re-read, but i enjoy the intellectual and emotional exercise of exploring those feelings and better understanding the true meaning and purpose of the art. but there are certain topics in other works of fiction that i'm unwilling to explore, which would cause me to simply stop reading, and if asked for a review i'd just say that i'm not the right person to say. and there have been many times where i've continued reading a book, hoping it would change directions, and ended up just being like, "yeah, that wasn't for me," and moving on.

the exchange "there was no slave, he never existed" "here is here, we are the same" is almost a meta-commentary on the reception of the series as a whole. it would be dishonest to deny how this series started, and some of the themes and subjects it intentionally confronts. you can't say "there was no slave [kink], [it] never existed" because the narrative proceeded to be more of a commentary on kink rather than an uncritical display of it. kink, and dark topics in fiction in general, do all have depth, and while they might not be for everyone, they are for someone. exploring that depth is entirely optional, and i understand why people with certain experiences don't want anything to do with that exploration. but our personal tastes don't change the fact that subjects like slavery and rape exist, and that reality is inseparable from the stories that come from it. ultimately, the choice is whether we're willing to take that specific reality thoughtfully on, or else just walk away.

the people i have the hardest time with are the ones who choose neither of those options. like, what do you even get out of continuing to read something that you're unwilling to explore in good faith, or that you straight-up hate? just read something else. we only have so much time in the day. stop wasting yours, and stop wasting the time of people who actually enjoy the thing with your useless bad-faith criticism. sorry this tangent has totally departed from the chapter itself, but that really is what pisses me off so much about current-day online book culture. like, i'm thinking about all of those smug-looking booktubers making 2 hour videos called "i read [name of book that doesn't appeal to the lowest common denominator of people] so you don't have to." i know how long it takes to read books thoughtfully, and then to write, film, and edit videos. maybe stop wasting your own time and dig into something you love instead, or even try to make your own thing, and just hope that some smug asshole on the internet doesn't decide to do to your work what you've done to other people's work. but no, lazy cynicism and appealing to the easy gimmick of cringe is way more profitable, i guess. and it makes you less vulnerable to people criticizing work that came from your soul, because the work you're creating is completely soulless.

anyway. i wonder what kind of totally normal things damen and laurent are up to in the chapter i'm annotating

‘Kneel then,’ said Laurent. ‘Kiss my boot.’

"if you really are still a slave, even though we both know you’re a king, then do a demeaning slave thing right now"

He looked into Laurent’s excoriating blue eyes. The impossibility of it was like a sharp pain. He couldn’t do it. He could only gaze at Laurent across the distance between them. The words hurt. ‘You’re right. I’m not a slave,’ he said.

can’t indulge in the kink anymore by circumstantial necessity, but i’m sure they’ll find something even weirder to do instead on purpose

‘I am the King.’ He said, ‘I killed your brother. And now I hold your fort.’ As he spoke, Damen drew out a knife. He felt rather than saw all of Laurent’s attention swing to it. The physical signs were small: Laurent’s lips parted, his body tensed. Laurent didn’t look at the knife. He kept his eyes on Damen, who looked right back at him. ‘So you will parley with me as with a king, and you will tell me why you called me here.’ Deliberately, Damen tossed the knife onto the floor of the tent.

okay this is just extra of him, but i mean laurent got to do “hello lover” so damen deserves to be dramatic too as a treat. i also like what this symbolizes, as opposed to their previous knife moments. as defined by their stations, they don’t have a power imbalance anymore, and they don’t have a reason to be enemies. they are a prince and a king, not a master and a slave. they are military allies, teaming up against the regent. any power imbalance and beef they have now is emotional, complicated, and abstract, nothing clear-cut (haha) enough to be represented by an instrument of simple violence like a knife. and damen summarizes this perfectly, in the context of their previous knife moments, by viscerally reminding laurent of those encounters and then just tossing the thing across the room.

honestly, i bet laurent feels jealous of the clever performative gesture. and maybe a little turned on, too, despite the horrors. that’s a fun reversal.

‘Didn’t you know?’ said Laurent. ‘My uncle is in Akielos.’

yeah, he got a really good all-inclusive deal at the akielion sandals resort and needed a vacation after all of the murder and [redacted]

[w2soneshots]

Engaged -W2S

words: 0.7k+

warnings: none.

summary: while on holiday in Italy Harry asks you a very important question.

Liked by mollymae and 1,090,637 others

y/username: Its only the first day but I never wanna leave🏝️

-comments-

taliamar: STUNNING🩷🩷

faithlouisak: woah😍

y/nfanpage21: I loveeee the outfit!!

-> y/username: thank you🫶

user468031478: wrotoshaw is a lucky man

Harry surprised me with a trip to Italy 2 weeks ago. When we arrived yesterday we headed straight to the hotel to drop off all of our bags and get changed then spent the rest of the day at the beach. Today I woke up with Harry by my side scrolling through his phone. As soon as he realised that I was awake he popped his phone on the bedside table and rolled onto his side. I flashed him a smile "morning." I said. He smiled and leaned in to peck my lips "good morning, sleep good?" I nodded.

We got up, then sat down to have some fresh fruit and pastries for breakfast. "I've got lunch booked for two o'clock." Harry said as we ate. I looked up from my food "ooo, where?" I asked. "You'll have to wait and see." he said with a smirk. I shook my head jokingly and continued to eat my food. We finished our breakfast then hung around the villa until twelve ish when I decided to get ready.

y/username

Liked by faithlouisak and 1,809,681 others

y/username: be ready for the holiday spam🌥️

-comments-

wrotoshaw: 🔥❤️

freyanightingale: beautiful🤍

taliamar: sexy girl

user68024210: this holiday would be the perfect opportunity for bog to propose😏

When we arrived at the restaurant we took our seats outside on the patio and ordered. We ate our food then decided to take a walk on the beach. We were slowly waking hand in hand admiring the beautiful scenery, when Harry let go of my hand. I looked back in his direction to see him down on one knee, with a ring box in his hand. My breath caught in my throat. "omg." I said quietly and placed a hand over my mouth. "y/n, You're kind, you're funny, you're beautiful. I love spending time with you, and I can't imagine my life without you. I promise to always make you laugh, to always be there for you when you need me, and to never take you for granted," He said while tears streamed down my face "will you marry me?" I nodded quickly "yes, yes, yes, yes!" I said and he quickly stood, placed the ring on my finger and pulled me into a strong hug.

y/username and wrotoshaw

Liked by calfreezy and 6,016,932 others

y/username: we're engaged!💍

-comments-

ksi: congratulations guys, so sick!!!!

tobjizzle: ❤️❤️❤️❤️

taliamar: ahhhhh I'm so happy for you🥹

behzingagram: HE'S DONE IT!

freyanightingale: the ring!!😍😍

faithlouisak: 🥹🥹🥹❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

miniminter: wooooooooo!

y/nfanpage21: YESSSSSSSS FINALLY🩷

user68024210: I called it🙋‍♂️

I was in a state of shock for the entire rest of the day. After Harry asked me to marry him (which sounds crazy be able to say) we walked back to the villa and took a shower together ready for the dinner he had booked. I got dressed into a long, black, lace dress. I did my makeup and put my hair up (which I've been doing the whole trip since it's so hot) then slipped on some little black heels. Once I was finished I slowly walked downstairs, Harry was stood by the door waiting for me. "Wow" he said once I was near him. I smiled and jokingly did a pose.

y/username

Liked by tobjizzle and 1,709,284 others

y/username: 🖤🥂

-comments-

faithlouisak: show us that ring girly😉

taliamar: my wifey💍

-> y/username: you know it😘

user925711030: I wish I was as pretty as her

We left soon after and arrived at the restaurant. We sat down and ordered our drinks. "I still can't believe we're engaged." I said playing with the ring on my left hand. "Im surprised you didn't catch on, I was trying my best not to act weird." he said. I giggled then took a breath "did you tell anyone?" I asked. "Ethan and Faith were the only ones I told. I wanted to make sure I had the right ring so I asked Faith and for Ethan I just needed someone to talk to about it since I was so nervous." he said. "Aw, well at least you knew I wouldn't say no." He took a deep breath "I did consider what I would do if you did." I just laughed.

After dinner we walked back to the villa and I immediately took my heels off and slipped out of my dress...

[heartfullofleeches]

Imagine Miller doing a subbathon with yan chat except instead of donating bits to keep the stream going, they’re donating bits to see Y/n. Y/n is just sitting there next to Miller reading a book or something whilst they play a game and anytime the counter runs out because chat didn’t donate Miller juts kinda, throws a blanket over them or something until someone donates

A shadow appears outside your tent.

"Mind if I come in? Looks so cozy from here I might not leave.. Ow, ow, shit- not again." Setting up for the stream, Miller pokes their head through the curtains of your enclosure to attach a mic piece to a hanging frame, cerulean dreads snagging on the velcro latch in the midst of their playful banter. They mutter expletives, since as they tear their locks free. They crawl inside the tent and tap the mic overhead where you lay with a book in your lap and surrounded by a small library filled with more novels and other items needed for the duration of your stay. When Miller told you they'd be pulling out all the stops for your new corner - they meant it.

The whole idea for the space came when they discovered the very foundation for it online. They had mindlessly scrolling through various forums looking for ideas to make their room feel more of a home for you when they came across a frame for a floor bed fashioned in the design of a small house. It went in their cart that second and on their doorstep a day later. After gutting one side of their floor and setting the bed up, Miller fit it with your favorite sheets and pillows. They strung up mood lights and installed shelves into the walls for your trinkets. By the time they were done, the area was more decked out than their entire apartment. A fair act given who it was for. You warmed up to it well enough and that's all they could ever ask.

Miller grabs the remote for the lights and turns them up. "Quiet read in the dark unless you want eyesight somehow worse than mine." Their voice softens the closer they get until their lips graze your cheek. "You good to start?"

"Mmm...." You pull the blanket trapped beneath their knees over your lap. "Now I am."

Miller smiles. "Good. Remember, just turn off the cameras if you can't handle the attention. There's one there, there, and obviously here-" They point around the room, stopping on the front facing camera of your laptop. "And you have my card if you want order something to eat while we're live. I'll check on you in about an hour. Be good."

Miller nabs the pillow cushioning your elbow and lightly smacks your knee with it before backing out of the tent. They place it behind their neck as they sit down at their desk and adjust their headphones over their ears. Waking their monitors up, they find the feeds from your cameras on one and the scheduled stream on the other. Right before they tune in, Miller presses a kiss to the pads of their fingers and places it on the screen where you sat. The curtains draw back.

"Saw that!"

Miller hushes you, wiping the snicker off their face as the stream goes live. "Hey, guys. As some of you may know if you follow the community page, we have a special stream today."

They eyes the chat as you get comfortable. You yawn, laying on your side with your book in hand.

[I'll take your entire stock.]

[So glad I got paid yesterday. How are they so freaking cute?!]

[If someone gives a certain amount can they read to us too???]

[Alexa, what's my location]

"Your first mistake is thinking I'd have one of those things. Your second is not realizing we plan on moving every two years. You can watch them all you want, but it's best you remember Y/n is my partner. Cross any boundaries and I will take them away just as easily as I have shown them off to you.... but I'll still send pictures from the wedding!... Baby, you doing okay?

You hold your finger over your laptop's camera, reading the flood of messages and donations from your phone. "They absolutely hate when I do this.... but I think it works in our favor."

[oizysian]

II. MEETING BRIE

All Eyes on Me masterlist

Word count: 1.4k

•

The following day, Twitch made a Tweet about our charity stream, showcasing Brie and I as advocates for LGBTQ+ youth. I was honored, completely taken aback by the influx of positive comments and support. We had done something great and would hopefully inspire others to do the same.

Brie messaged me once she saw it, excited that I was getting the exposure I deserved for being a content creator. I didn't feel as though I deserved the popularity just because I was doing something decent. I just wanted to help people, not become famous from doing good deeds.

I gained thousands of followers overnight, and an overwhelmingly large amount of them found me through Brie despite the shout out from Twitch. At this point, I owed her a lot.

She helped me book a flight and hotel in Los Angeles for the next few days so I had a chance to explore with her before the party. My flight was in a few hours and, naturally being me, I haven't finished packing yet.

"Yeah, no, I really have to go soon. I need to finish packing. I've only put together my toiletries so far." I spoke to Claire via my headset. We were playing a round of Call of Duty Zombies instead of having me pack.

"I can't believe you're going to LA without me. To meet celebrities."

"You don't even live in this country. You'd probably miss the party even if you left right now." I teased her.

"Yeah, well, you still could have invited me."

"I didn't even invite me." I chuckled. "Brie had to convince me to go."

"Oh yeah, sure. I bet she really had to pull some teeth to get you to travel to meet Elizabeth Olsen."

"It took at least five minutes of convincing before I agreed." I tried to defend myself weakly. We both knew it truly didn't take much to get me to go.

"Mhm. Come revive me."

"Alright, but after this, I really need to go."

"Okay, okay, go. But once you get home we're streaming together again. I miss our dynamic."

"People think we're gay and dating."

"We are gay, Y/N."

"But not dating, loser."

"Don't you have something you should be doing?" She laughed and I rolled my eyes.

"You're right, I do. See ya, loser."

I left the game and the party, tossing my controller and headset on the bed before leaning back and sighing. I was stressed as all hell about this trip. I was going to meet Elizabeth fucking Olsen. Or maybe I wasn't and Brie was just fucking with me.

I groaned, sitting up on the bed fully and pushing myself to get up and finish packing. I was only staying for a few days so I didn't need much, but I still managed to pack more than I needed to.

I called an Uber to take me to the airport and I couldn't help but fidget nervously as we drove. What if she was just playing a joke on me? What if this was all an elaborate scheme to make me look and feel stupid?

No. Brie was my friend.

I knew this was just my anxiety talking, trying to make me doubt everything I knew and find the bad where there's actually good.

I took a deep breath and tried to relax. This was going to be an amazing couple of days and my anxiety was not going to ruin it for me.

After thanking the driver, I got out with my suitcase, lugging it behind me as I entered JFK airport. At least I would be able to nap once I got on the plane.

Once I got through security and boarded my flight, I found that it was impossible to nap. My nerves were just through the roof. Brie had messaged me before I got on the plane that she would be waiting for me when we landed and that gave me a little bit of extra comfort. I never really traveled by myself so I was a little nervous to be on my own.

I was lucky enough to get a window seat, probably thanks to Brie, and I spent the whole six hour trip looking out the window. Time flew by when my mind wasn't racing with anxious thoughts.

As promised, Brie was waiting for me when I got off the plane and collected my luggage, although I didn't recognize her until she came up to me. She was wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap to hide her identity, and it worked really well.

"Hey there, Y/N." Her smooth voice startled me and I had to do a double take before realizing it was her.

"Brie?" I asked before smiling, wrapping my arms around her in a big hug.

I wasn't usually a hugger, but it felt like I was seeing an old friend after many years of being apart. She squeezed me back even tighter than I squeezed her and I was momentarily reminded that she was an Avenger, and that she was very strong.

"How was your flight?" She asked as she led me out of LAX.

"It was okay. I mostly just watched the clouds."

"Were the movies that boring?" She joked and I smiled, shaking my head.

"No, I just think a lot. Plus, it's not often I find myself in the sky."

"We'll have to get you out here more often then."

We drove to the hotel, chatting casually about what there was to see and do in California. I was excited to experience everything the state had to offer, but hearing her describe everything was a little overwhelming.

"We're not doing all of that in one visit, are we?" I asked playfully.

"Of course not." She shot me a crooked smile. "The things we don't see and do will give you an excuse to come visit again."

"I just got here and you're already planning my next visit?" I joked and she laughed, nodding.

"Absolutely. I'm glad to have you here. We're gonna have a good time."

"Definitely." I agreed as she parked near the hotel.

She came up to my room with me, helping me drag along my luggage.

"What the hell do you have in here? A dead body?" She groaned as we entered the room.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic." I threw myself back onto the bed, sighing as I sunk into the comfortable mattress. "It's not even that heavy."

"Yeah, sure, and I'm six feet tall."

"Shuddup." I laughed as she dropped down on the bed next to me.

We laid together for a while, relaxing until our bellies growled and we had to order room service. This hotel was pretty fancy as the menu served items in other languages and I could only imagine how much it all cost.

Brie ordered wine and we ate and talked until it was nighttime. It felt good to just be myself with someone who seemed to understand me. She wasn't a typical celebrity. Brie was down to earth and damn near normal for an Oscar winner and an Avenger.

"So tomorrow we're gonna go out to eat at this really great restaurant I was introduced to recently and then we'll go explore downtown. There are some awesome shops you'll definitely want to visit at least once while you're here."

I smiled at her excitement.

"Hopefully I can afford stuff here. Everything seems so expensive."

"Of course you can afford stuff. You're a big Twitch streamer now." She teased.

"No, I'm not big. I'm not even medium."

"Stop selling yourself short!" She smacked my arm and I feigned injury.

"Ow, oh no, I'm crippled now. Oh, the pain." I pretended to writhe on the bed next to her and she raised herself up on her elbows, looking down at me.

"Boy, you're a good actress. Do you need me to kiss the boo-boo better?" She asked with a playfully raised eyebrow.

I smiled up at her and grabbed at my arm dramatically.

"I might need more wine, actually."

"Oh, and then you'll want a kiss?"

"Heh, maybe." I sat up, retrieving my glass from the end table and refilling it with the nearby wine bottle. "You wanna kiss me that badly, huh?" I joked.

"Maybe." She whispered and I turned to look at her, her eyes heavy and clearly glazed over with intoxication.

"You're sloshed, Brie." I laughed, sipping from my glass. "You need to sleep."

She looked at me for a moment before laying back down on the bed, rolling over on her side and sighing.

"You're right. I'm exhausted."

A moment later, she was snoring softly, and I was left wondering if I would've actually kissed her if we had both been sober.

•

@oh-thats-cute @marvelwomen-simp

[riversandwinds]

kiss it better?

a/n: hi hi hi! this is my very first fic, I’ve never written anything before so we’ll see how this goes. please be nice, tell me if you hate it xx ! also I got fed up with autocorrect changing y/n to yen so I just gave her a name 😭

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

summary: Being an art student, Amara’s life gets so stressful around finals week. When everything starts to go downhill, Chris is there to fight with her, and maybe even kiss it better afterwards.

warnings: swearing, angst (happy ending), kissing, not really anything else except for female rage lmfao, no use of y/n

word count: 1.7k-ish

Not proofread 🤓

lots of love ~ Rivvie

What better way to start your day off than with a whole lot of chaos. Amara was jolted awake by the alarm clock’s incessant beeping slicing through her and Chris’s quiet room. Sitting up, her face paled as she saw the time, seeing that she slept through her morning lecture. Panic surged through her, immediately throwing the covers off and shooting up out of bed (much to Chris’s very audible disappointment). She grabbed random pieces of her closet off the floor in a frantic rush, barely managing to get out the door fully clothed with a “Byeloveyousomuchpleasecleanthehouse!”. (She forgot her glasses, then her phone, then her bag, making her run back to their room 3 more times.)

Shouting her final goodbye to Chris, she could feel her phone all but explode in her pocket. She was too disoriented to focus on the messages, so she ignored it, figuring it was just a random group chat. She sprinted through the commons, finally checking her phone after deciding she didn’t care enough to make it to the lecture hall.

lindsey manager (🫥)

sarah no-showed. need you to fill in today asap.

???

amara hello

Of-fucking-course, Amara thought to herself. With a huff, she turned on her heel, making her way to the campus coffee shop. I don’t even have my work clothes, God hates me.

At work, the hours dragged by as she endured her manager’s endless complaints. “You’re late, Amara, hurry up.”, “Where the hell is your uniform?”, “No, you’re not doing it right-“

The poor girl was on edge, to say the least. Her late start didn’t help, either, as she didn’t have any time to grab food from their dorm. She was barely able to handle her hunger as she worked through her shift, her empty stomach cramping by the time her shift was done. She clocked out, silently cursing Lindsey, the shop, and every customer who walked in during her shift.

As exhausted as she was, she called her professor as she was walking out, booking the ceramics room for a few hours. Finals were quickly approaching, and her clay tea set was only partially finished. She headed to the studio, hoping to make at least a little progress on her project and make up for lost time.

Her day only continued to spiral. She’d been in the studio for all but 20 minutes before she wanted to destroy the Earth entirely. As she was leaving the kiln room, tray full of breakables in hand, the door next to her flung open, slamming into her. Not only did it: A) Slam her glasses into the bridge if her nose, cutting her face, but it B) sent her entire tea set to the ground, shattering into thousands of tiny clay shards. Amara’s world collapsed in that moment. Tears streamed down her face as she stared at the wreckage, unable to muster the strength to pick up the fragments. With a choked sob, she grabbed her bag and fled the studio, feeling the weight of her disastrous day press down on her.

Stumbling into her apartment, she hoped for just a semblance of order. But the sight of the messy living room—pizza boxes, crumpled papers, clothes everywhere—made her heart sink even lower. She dropped her bag and collapsed to her knees, her body shaking with a mix of exhaustion and frustration.

“A-are you kidding me?” Amara’s voice cracked as she shouted, her frustration pouring out uncontrollably. “I’ve had the worst day- oh god… I missed my lecture, got screamed at at work, my project is destroyed, and now this mess? I can’t do this-”

Chris, complete with an Xbox controller and a headset, emerged from their room with wide eyes. He froze, his mouth slightly open in surprise as he took in his girlfriend’s state. “Baby, woah, what’s going on?” He set the controller aside and stood next to Amara, honestly a little confused. “Why the meltdown?”

Wrong choice of words, clearly, as her red, tear-filled eyes snapped to his, going wide.

“Why the meltdown?” Amara exploded, her voice rising in volume as she began to frantically clean up the mess. “Because today has been a fucking wreck! I asked you to pick up a little, just a little, Chris! A-and you couldn’t even manage that! I come home to- to this after the worst day of my life, and you’re just sitting here playing games!”

Chris blinked, taken aback by her outburst. “Mar, calm down. It’s not that big of a deal. I was going to clean up, but I got sidetracked. It’s not like—” he bends down to pull Amara off the floor, but retracts when she spits out her response.

“It’s not like what?” she snapped, angry tears streaming down her face. “It’s not like it matters to you? You think I can just handle everything on my own while you sit at home and do nothing? I’m at my breaking point, and all I wanted was the trash off the floor!”

Chris’s eyes widened, his initial nonchalance giving way to frustration. “Hey, I didn’t make your day go bad. I get that you’re upset, but yelling at me isn’t going to fix anything. I’m just trying to understand here!”

Amara’s anger reached its peak. She stood up, maniacally grabbing all of the dirty cups and pieces of trash, stomping to the kitchen to deal with it. “You think I’m yelling just for fun? You have no idea what my day was like! I’ve been on the edge all day, and instead of coming home to something decent, our house is a disaster and you don’t even seem to care!” Throwing her now empty hands up, she lets out a choked cry, pushing past Chris to enter their bedroom.

After seeing Amara sobbing and slamming the door to their room, Chris’s demeanor shifted dramatically. He stood in the living room, the weight of her words sinking in. With a deep sigh, he started cleaning up the mess with a quiet guilt, his movements deliberate and focused. He managed to tidy up the living room, stopping to order Amara’s favorite takeout. He grabbed the blankets from the closet, setting up the couch and scrolling Amazon Prime for a movie to rent. (He eventually settled on Barbie Princess Charm School, figuring it would appease Amara.)

Around 30 minutes later, when Amara emerged from the room, she was met with a surprisingly clean space and the comforting aroma of her favorite food. Chris looked up from arranging the food on the coffee table, his face softening as he saw her. “Look, sweetheart, I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize the house was this bad,” he said, his tone earnest. “I thought I could fix it.”

Amara’s anger dissipated as she took in the scene. “Chris, I—” she started, her voice wobbling with her bottom lip. “I didn’t mean to lash out like that. I was just... overwhelmed.”

Chris walked over and pulled her into his chest, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I get it now. I’m sorry you had such an awful day, Ma.” She shrugged, pressing a kiss to his chest.

Spontaneously-DoorDashed desert arrived around ten minutes later, to which Amara all but inhaled while she focused on the movie in front of her. After almost dosing off for the third time, Chris paused the movie, brushing hair out of Amara’s exhausted face.

“Time for bed, baby. Let’s get you cleaned up, huh?” Chris said, pulling a whiny Amara up from the couch, leading her to their room.

He first took care of the little cut on her nose, placing a small kiss over it when he was done. After she was undressed and her hair was brushed, he helped her into the shower, his touch gentle as he guided her through the calming process. While she was in the shower, Chris busied himself tidying up the rest of the apartment, clearing up their dinner and putting up the clean dishes in the kitchen.

When Amara emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, refreshed and feeling a bit more centered, she found Chris remaking their bed, having switched out their sheets for clean ones. The room was now a haven of comfort, with soft lighting and the faint sound of the unpaused Barbie movie playing in the background. The big lights were off, the room illuminated by the soft string lights on the wall.

“God, Chris,” Amara said, her voice filled with appreciation. “This looks amazing. Thank you for cleaning, baby. I’m sorry I yelled at you over it…” she pouted slightly.

Chris smiled softly. “I know I messed up, and I’m sorry for being kinda useless. I figured this might help some more.”

He reached out and grabbed her in a bear hug, resting his chin on her head. “It’s okay, sweetheart. We all have rough days, and I should have been more understanding. I’m just glad we can talk things out and make them better.” He pulled back to kiss between her eyebrows, the tip of her nose, and a soft peck on her lips, smoothing her hair down with his hands.

He helped her get dressed, slipping a sleep shirt over her head and sliding her underwear and shorts up her legs, kissing her knee with a grin. Amara appreciated his efforts, feeling the weight of her stress lift with each passing moment.

After a few minutes, and a few yawns from both parties, Chris turned off the string lights and the tv, declaring it was bedtime. They climbed into their newly-made bed, snuggling up under the comforter. Chris wrapped his arms around Amara, pulling her close as she rested her head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his embrace and the comfort of being understood.

“I really do love you, you know,” Amara said softly, her sincere voice filling the dark room. “Thank you for kissing it better, Chris.”

Chris kissed her forehead gently. “Always, and I love you too, pretty girl. I’ll do better next time, pinky promise.”

As the sleepy mumbling played on, they remained in each other’s arms, the earlier turmoil of the day replaced by a sense of peace and safety.

Finally settling into a comfortable silence, Amara felt her eyelids get heavy. She yawned, pressing into Chris who kissed her forehead with a hum. She relaxed into Chris’s embrace, feeling like a precious stone in the hands of a jeweler. They drifted off, Chris’s immediate snoring lulling Amara to sleep with a lovesick grin on her lips.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

tags: @her-favorite (u the only one bb 🌝)

[d1ana-m0nd]

╭─► ❝The Servant: Umbrella Academy's Servant❞

Five Hargreeves × Female! Reader || Written by Diana (d1ana-m0nd)

➢ Description : It's a well known fact that Sir. Reginald Hargreeves adopted 7 children to save the world from it's impending doom. Though, the number of children will change from 7 to 8 once a close friend of his, Rita Rossweisse was on her death bed and requested him to take in her child, who fortunately was born on October 1st 1989.

➢ Word Count : 9,537

➢ Links : Masterlist && Character Profile

➢ Note : I just wanted to give a heads up for people who like Luther, he's going to be a bit antagonistic towards the reader because she's an accomplice. Also, in S1 of TUA, the writers' focused on his mission driven trait which led to a snowball effect on his decisions and how he treated others (ex: Vanya), though that does not mean I will be writing him off as an antagonist throughout the whole series, just this season since he is still learning and growing. I mean no harm Luther simps / stans / fans. 🏳️

Also, it's been three years since I have done Wushu (Chinese martial arts) so the fighting scene might be crappy. It will be inaccurate as well since I never reached orange belt lol, I just watched YouTube videos of Agatha Wong and other Wushu martial artists. ;-;

Chapter 3: Extra Ordinary

Blue light streamed through the window as Allison sat on the windowsill, a cigarette in hand; she took in the scenery from the place she once considered home. The sound of car horns beeping accompanied the lively city atmosphere, whilst the lights of the streetlamps came off harshly. Oddly enough, this loud environment felt homely to her. The rumor inhaled the cigarette then exhaled it, letting the flares of the smoke blow out the window. She let herself be more immersed to the atmosphere, which led her unaware of someone else's presence in the room.

"Ah, Miss Allison." The advanced chimpanzee announced his arrival. Allison hurriedly put out the cigarette, leading it to fizzle out. She faced Pogo with a sheepish smile, as though she was not caught red-handed.

"I was looking for you." Pogo returned her smile, then took a small step towards her.

"How did you, uh… did you know I was up here?" The rumor scratched her nape. She really wasn't expecting anyone to walk in on her smoking and emoting to herself.

"Oh, it wasn't hard. This is always where you used to come when you were upset."

"Who told you I was…" The girl in curls paused, then sighed as a certain someone came to mind.

"Luther." She said fiddling with the aged locket that was given to her by the same person.

"Actually, it was Miss Vanya."

Allison was taken aback by his words. Vanya… cared about her? For a moment, she felt regret come over her because her sibling went out of her way to check on her… then she recalled the book. The rumor would have openly showed her grimace at the thought of her sister but, Pogo’s next words took her by surprise.

"She called to make sure you were okay and if it weren't for Y/N reminding me, I would have forgotten to check in on you." Pogo said with a small smile, as though he was silently thanking the girls for caring about Allison's well being.

The girl in curls stood up from the windowsill as she inhaled deeply, stuffing her hands into her pocket. "Yeah, I, um… said some pretty unkind things to her." Though it sounded like she said it out of defeat.

The well dressed chimpanzee frowned at her words, but tried to be optimistic. "She's your sister. She knows you didn't mean it."

Allison scoffed as she looked away. "Doubt it. She doesn't know anything about me, which is fine, cause I don't know shit about her either."

"Language." Pogo said which brought a small smile to the rumor's face followed by a soft chuckle. "Sorry."

"It's just…" The woman breathed through her nose. "It's been a while since we've all lived under the same roof."

"Almost 13 years." He added, which added onto the emotional baggage that Allison was carrying at the moment.

"How did you do it? Alone in this huge house for so long?"

"Well, one grows used to things, even if, sometimes… one shouldn't." The chimpanzee looked away, not wanting to give away the sadness in his eyes.

Wanting to divert the young lass’ attention to something else, Pogo decided it would be a great time to bring her over the CCTV room and to follow through with Master Hargreeves’ plan till the truth is finally revealed.

"Come with me. I want to show you something. It might just cheer you up." The advanced chimpanzee was about to head out the room but he suddenly turned to where Allison stamped out the cigarette earlier. "And make sure you fully extinguished that cigarette. Wouldn't want to start a fire."

The girl in curls chuckles to herself as she now recalled Pogo never lets his guard down, it’s almost like nothing goes under his radar, he acted more father-like than their own father. She then quickly extinguishes the fire and hurriedly catches up with Pogo. The two walked side by side towards the CCTV room, and entered the room together.

The chimpanzee approached the monitors and turned them on to show the familiar memories the academy created back in their youth. "Your father stopped recording years ago. But, I still come here from time to time. When I'm missing you kids."

"Pogo, this is…" The woman was too stunned to speak but she managed to choke out a few words. "Most families have home movies to look back on. We have surveillance footage."

"I hoped it might cheer you up."

"It does…" Allison laughed, letting her guard down and allowed her inner child to be lured in by the memories being replayed by the monitors.

Suddenly, Allison's gaze turns to a monitor of Vanya playing the violin as a smaller Y/N sat beside the violinist cheering her on, though it looked like Vanya wore a fake smile accepting every compliment you gave her.

"And Vanya…" Her smile fell. Vanya was telling the truth.

"Why didn't we include her? I mean, if anybody ever treated Claire like that, I can't even imagine…"

"You were a child, Miss Allison." Pogo pointed out but Allison rebutted. "Yeah… but I'm not anymore and neither is she."

"If you're not in a hurry. The rest of the tapes are in that cabinet." The advanced chimpanzee gestured to the nearby cabinet, while his other hand took out the keys and left it on the table. "Make sure you lock up when you go."

"Things have been disappearing lately. These are too important to lose." He added as Allison softly chuckled at his words. She has a feeling, she knows who might be responsible for it.

Whilst she was busy reminiscing, Pogo stood beside her, double checking at the breadcrumbs he left. He needed the secrets to be unraveled as soon as possible, he can only pray it wouldn’t be too late. The chimpanzee took one last look at Allison then left the room.

Once he left, the woman in curls rummaged through the tapes and found a tape that stood out. It was oddly placed, it even seemed like that it was purposely placed there. She played the footage not expecting much. To her surprise, her expectations were surpassed by the content of the footage.

Her eyes widened, then she straightened herself. "Oh, God. Dad…"

Allison paused the tape, without hesitation, she began to frantically look for Luther in the academy. She checked from door to door only to be frustrated that Luther wasn’t home. She was about to give up until she heard the front door open then ran - more like fast walking - to where the footsteps came from.

The woman in curls grabbed onto Luther’s arm. "There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you."

"What are you still doing here? I thought you were gone." He raised his brow in her presence.

"No, I was gonna go, and then Pogo showed me this -"

"Well, listen…" The larger male interrupted her with a defeated sigh. "I was wrong about Dad's death."

The woman was astonished by his words, it wasn’t like him. "What?"

"Yeah. I was wrong about Diego. You know, to accuse my own brother of that is just-"

"No, I, I know, I get it." The rumor tried to cut in but got interfered once again.

"- Seeing all of you and being back here… I should be the one who's trying to bring us back together, not tear us apart." Spaceboy said but it more or less it sounded like he was talking to himself in the mirror.

"Would you shut up?!" Allison shouted angrily.

"What?"

"You were right, about Dad." She stated, now it was the male’s turn to be confused by the sudden turn of events.

"Come on, I gotta show you something."

Even though the larger male was silent, she took his arm and guided him to the CCTV room. As they head to the CCTV room, they happen to passby Y/N and Five. Luther and Allison checked on you guys - since you guys looked kinda messed up - but Five had a sudden outburst and you had to make random excuses to bring him to his room, whilst juggling to not drop Delores. Once they were a bit far, Luther finally had the courage to speak up.

"Does Y/N having a mannequin have something to do with whatever you were going to show me?" He asked.

To which Allison threw a look at his direction. "No, and I have no idea where she got that. All I know is she's been glued to Five's side since he got back."

Once they had arrived, the rumor was quick to replay the footage. Luther couldn’t believe what he was watching. At first he was in denial but, as he replayed the clip again and again, he was able to digest the information but he still doesn’t understand… Why would their mother - er robot, rather, “Grace” kill their father? He kept replaying the scene trying to understand what occurred during the night of the murder but, got no answers in the end.

"Play it again." Number one ordered again…

Allison had to refrain herself from rolling her eyes because of how mind numbing it was to replay the same scene over and over again.

"We've watched it over and over, it's the same thing every time." She pointed out.

Luther sighs, she wasn’t wrong, they weren’t getting answers. Reluctantly, the rumor rewind the clip, the VCR whirred indicating it was being replayed.

"Er… what is she doing?" He asked, gesturing towards Grace on the monitor.

"The tea. Did she poison him?"

"Uh- I don't know." The woman in curly hair uncrossed her arms, unsure of what she was witnessing.

The larger male sighed exasperated then turned his gaze towards hers. "Where did you find this?" He gestured to the footage.

Allison stopped leaning against the cabinet then sat on the chair beside Luther's side, "I was looking at old footage of us as kids, and I just saw the footage sitting there."

"Yeah, Dad must have started using the security system again." There was a pregnant pause present in the room.

"He was getting more and more paranoid. He thought people were out to get him." He muttered, recalling the call he had with his dad a month prior.

Back then, He didn’t think much of it but it did worry him that Grace and Y/N weren’t taking care of him. However, after calling Y/N, he felt reassured by her words and assumed that their father was just becoming paranoid for nothing. Now, he regrets taking his words for granted.

"Well… I guess maybe he was right."

"But Mom?" Allison refused to accept this.

"I mean she's not capable of…" She gestured to the footage but as her eyes landed the footage she began to have second thoughts, she sighs. "Is she?"

Suddenly, a memory from the funeral played in Luther’s head.

"Then there's the issue of the missing monocle." The ape hybrid added to his conspiracy. Even though it was silent, you could hear the others internally groaning as more words came out of his mouth.

"Y/N, while you were cleaning up Dad's room, was the monocle still there?"

"Last night I wasn't assigned to give him medicine, it was Mrs. Grace's turn. So I can't be too sure if he wore the monocle. Though the crime scene cleaners and investigators did let me know that they made sure to keep everything in the same spot." You reported, as your thinking pose shifted into your default one.

"Make sure to check the cameras around the time they were cleaning." He commanded, you bowed in return to confirm you will do as he says.

Spaceboy’s eyes widened at the revelation… What if…

"Where was Y/N last night? Why didn't she inform me about the footage?" He bombarded.

"I already told you! Ever since Five came back she's been stuck to his side." The rumor answered not catching onto Luther’s wavelength.

"But, it doesn't make sense, she had the time to check the footage whilst they were preparing the funeral, and didn’t Pogo and her switch shifts in monitoring the CCTVs?”

Suddenly, Allison went silent, as she began to piece the puzzles and see where Luther was coming from, now that he pointed that out, Y/N could be a possible suspect and lately, she has been avoiding the academy for days, ever since Five came back, she could be using him as her alibi. Which makes her even more suspicious but she highly doubts she has something to do with it murdering their father.

After all, it is a well known fact that the servant has always been neutral, that’s why she is given a number that is neither a prime nor an odd number. It would be rare of her to step out of line. Plus, she only does what needs to be done, she wouldn’t do anything if it wasn’t under someone’s orders.

ㅤㅤㅤ❲ T H E ☕ S E R V A N T ❳

It was silent as the duo- trio rather, headed to Five’s room. Five’s head was flooded with ways on how he should retrieve the information to stop the apocalypse with Delores’ assistance. While Y/N’s head was filled with questions for Five, you wanted to ask him questions about the masked people and the people who tried to shoot them down at the doughnut shop but it didn’t feel like the right time to do so.

If only Five was open with you as he was to Vanya then you wouldn’t be reluctant to ask him questions… The only good thing that came out of this was that he trusted you enough to keep you around which made it easier to monitor him.

Once the three entered his room, you placed Delores on a nearby chair as Five stumbled his way to the bed. He fell face first onto the pillow; It sounded like a fart but you had to keep your lips pressed into a thin line or he’d bark at you. To distract yourself from laughing, you glanced at the mannequin, expecting it to do something. Alas, it did nothing but look into where it was painted to look at.

"It might be of use later…” You told yourself but you highly doubted it would be more useful than you.

The servant sighed then turned her gaze towards the boy. “Master Five, let me patch you up.”

“No, I can deal with this myself, I’ll just sleep it off.” He shrugged you off.

Unfortunately for him, you were determined, the look on your face supported that notion. “I’m afraid I won’t allow that. Your wound might get infected if you neglect it. Plus, seeing as you are hell bent on avoiding others, I am the only one who you can order around who wouldn’t try to look over your shoulder.”

Five’s thin lips were ready to bare the teeth that were hidden underneath his lips but his mind intervened before he could do so. You had a point, even though you were unexpectedly dragged into this, you could be of use to him -

"Hey, you know, I've just now realized why you're so uptight. You must be horny as hell!" He laughed then added, "All those years by yourself. It's gonna screw with your head being alone."

"If you want to let the stress out, why not ask Y/N for help?"

"Y/N seems like she'd be good in bed, if you're the type to have a corruption kink and all. I wouldn't be surprised if you have one because you seem the type-" Klaus snapped his finger, "And, andd~! She wouldn't get arrested for dating you."

Warmth creeped onto Five’s cheeks as he recalled Klaus’ words from earlier. He was lucky that his face fell first, you wouldn’t be able to see how much you - correction, how much Klaus’ words affected him. In case his ears were reddening as well, he decided to bury his face further into the pillow to hide it but it was a poor attempt on his part.

“Do whatever you want.” His words were muffled by the pillow.

“What?” You asked, unable to hear his words.

The brown haired boy sat up and glared at your direction, which made you regret your words. “Do whatever you want but don't even think of watching me sleep.”

You nodded then, left his room to go get the first aid kit from the infirmary. Which made the boy sigh in relief then returned to lying on the bed but, this time he made sure to avoid lying on his injured side. As he stared into space, he began to silently plan out how he would get more information only to be disturbed by his beloved, Delores.

“Others would take a rest the moment their body hits the mattress yet, here you are letting your thoughts consume you rather than exhaustion.” Delores mused as she laughed at Five's situation.

“I assumed you would be grateful that I took the time to take you out for a stroll. That was no easy task.” The boy retorted, he knew she was going to piss him off for fun, she’s always been like that since they got together.

“Yeah I am grateful but, I would rather get to know my in-laws than be stuck in this room all day.” The mannequin teased with a knowing smirk, she knew Five was easy to play with when he's needy for someone's attention.

“Getting tired of me already? I thought you loved me.” The brown haired boy joked with a grin on his face. It was a rare sight that only Delores got to witness more often than the others.

“I do love you but, I recall you numerous times telling me off that I shouldn’t disturb you when you’re at ‘work’.” She rebutted which made her beloved chuckle in response.

“Smartass.”

“Master Five is everything alright?” You tilted your head, confused by what you had just walked in. The brunette was talking to someone just earlier…

“Oh! Is she the one you mentioned that’s always stuck by Vanya’s side?” Delores was ecstatic to finally meet one of the people Five grew up with. Even though he wasn't fond of you, Delores grew to love you whenever you were brought up with Vanya. She thought you both had a cute dynamic.

The physically young man wordlessly nodded to Delores, which you mistook as him saying that everything was alright. Assuming that everything was alright, you were quick to settle down by his bed and prepared what you needed: bandages, a surgical needle, a synthetic suture, a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, a clean washcloth along with a small bowl of lukewarm water. Once prepared, you took care of his injured side. The room was silent as the boy let out small huffs and your breathing were the only thing audible but, Five was hearing other things besides your breathing.

"Sweetheart, why don't you introduce me to her? I'd love to get to know her. She seems like a nice girl." The mannequin requested.

The brunette could not tell if she was trying to press his buttons or not. They both knew perfectly well that Delores trying to interact with others would just cause confusion but, his beloved is quite a chatterbox. Five might as well play along, or she would make his ears bleed from constant pleading. The thought of doing so made him roll his eyes, which you caught.

Thinking you did something wrong, you raised a question. "Did I do something wrong, Master Five?"

"Nothing, Delores wants to get to know you." He reassured, as an imaginary grin on Delores’ face grew. If you were not so observant, he would have thrown a quick glare in the mannequin’s direction for her cheekiness.

The mannequin bursted out laughing which made the brown-haired male flustered. "AHAHAHA! We've been together for 31 years and I never knew you had this kink."

"Oh right!" The servant was weirded out by this. You knew that you had to play along if you didn’t want to be torn apart. "I didn't introduce myself. Hi Ms. Delores, I'm Y/N, also referred to as Number Zero."

"I won't lie, she is very adorable. I can see why you'd want to keep her around." Dolores added, a finger ghosting on her cheek that complimented that cheeky grin of hers.

"I'm not keeping her." He hissed at Dolores.

You didn't know what he meant by that so you ignored it, and decided to ask another question. "So uh, what did Ms. Delores say?"

"She said that you seem like someone she'd hang around." The boy lied through his teeth but the blush across his face said otherwise.

"That is a complete 180 from what I said Five~" The mannequin sang then giggled.

For a moment, the room went silent, you were busy with Five's wounds whilst the boy was busy keeping his eyes on the mannequin. Dolores watched from her chair, as though taunting the brunette. The silence was comfortable at first but then it began to grow awkward because it felt like you had to do something to fill in the silence.

Out of nowhere, you blurted out a stupid question. "So, Ms. Dolores, do you like cooking?"

The moment you were able to process what you just blurted out, you wanted to smash yourself into a bloody wall. How could you be so stupid? Who in their right mind would ask if a mannequin - a flammable object, mind you - if it loved to cook. Even if it did, how was it supposed to cook? It would make sense if you were asking a robot or an advanced mammal - actually, anything that is capable of mimicking human behavior - but, of all things you just had to ask, you asked a flammable object if it liked to cook!? You were on the verge of running away at this point and let Five deal with his injury.

"Is she serious?" Dolores asked, surprised by what she heard as well.

Five didn't know what to say to his beloved. Trying to look for confirmation of your sincerity, he turned to you and saw that you were covering your face out of embarrassment. It was kinda cute. Watching the usually blank-faced girl wear a different expression… it made you more human rather than a puppet that the other's usually claimed you to be.

To the other numbers (Five was no exception), the servant seemed inhumane, too perfect to be human, you were practically a doll. If we are talking about what kind of doll would describe you, then "barbie" would be a suitable description. A doll that every girl dreamed to be, a doll that was suitable for every job it came across.

However their assumption of you changed when they noticed the cracks you were trying to hide from them, like how you stiffened and forced yourself to smile despite the insults being hurled at you, how you did want to go against their father but decided against it because of hesitance, and how you try your best to not cry or scream whenever their father needed your blood or for experimentation.

You were just as messed up as them…

From that point on, they recognized that it didn't feel right to label you as a doll. Though it didn't diminish the fact that you acted like a puppet, how you wouldn't act unless someone pulled the strings, how you mimicked others to look natural, and how you spoke like it came out from a script instead of saying what you actually think or feel.

Though, Five supposes this is the reason why you were given the "Number 0", it is neither even or odd. A number that represents balance, you stood on neither side, you were just someone who’s responsible for neutralizing issues before things could escalate. Strangely enough, despite you trying to act normal, you were the one that stood out among the dysfunctional family, because of how mentally unaffected you were by the household. Even Vanya had difficulty expressing her anger for you in her memoir.

Whilst the two numbers were busy with their own thoughts, someone was watching the scenery before her, amused by the silence that settled within the room.

The mannequin internally laughed at what she was witnessing. She found it rather ironic that despite Five being blunt about his distaste for you, you kept chasing him and made sure if he was alright. It was even more hilarious that he was beginning to open up to you but his hostility is still present. He hated you, you disliked him yet, you both cared for each other in your own way.

Even though she didn't have a heart, she felt envious of you. To be able to hold Five, to be able to run after him, to be able to stop him from overworking. You had everything Dolores wanted. But, alas, those are merely musings of a soulless husk.

Although this was an unspoken truth, Five knew his beloved "Dolores" wasn't real, she was merely something that manifested out of thin air because he wanted to keep himself sane during the apocalypse. She even recalled that time when some people from the commission found out about Dolores' existence, and they judged Five's mental state for it, even though Five acted like it was nothing, She was worried for him. They both knew it was the truth but he refused to acknowledge the reality of her existence.

Putting aside her jealousy, the mannequin was glad that despite all the weirdness Five carried, he found someone who did try to understand him. The thought of your open-mindedness and kindness warmed Dolores' non-existent heart.

"Thanks." Five broke the silence, his gaze elsewhere.

"Huh?" You tilted your head, not expecting his words.

"I know you heard me, don't make me say it twice or I'll give you a reason to be deaf." The brunette threatened, usually his threats would make you flinch but, this time it made you smile, not a forced one.

Your genuine smile went unnoticed but the tone of your voice didn't fail to express your sincerity. "You're welcome, Five."

The boy froze up as he realized you were calling him by his name again. He didn't know whether to call you out on it or just let it go… In the end, he failed to notice you had already left his side.

"I didn't think you'd warm up to her considering you told me how much you disliked her." The mannequin teased a knowing look on her face.

The brunette merely rolled his eyes at her then laid down on the bed, avoiding to ruin the stitches you made. "She's one of the tolerable ones, I have no choice."

Dolores smiled to herself knowing that was a lie.

ㅤㅤㅤ❲ T H E ☕ S E R V A N T ❳

The next day, both the boy and the girl exited the house through the fire exit, with Dolores carefully placed into the duffle bag along with alcohol. The seance noticed you guys sneaking out and tried to join in but Five declined his offer. As Klaus was busy whining about how much he loved his 'little brother', you managed to hijack a nearby van and let Five drive to his desired location while you sat at the back with Dolores.

The brunette parked the van in front of the prosthetics building, watching people come and go while he fiddled with the glass eyeball in his hand. He mindlessly watched as a woman walked past the stolen van whilst a group of children played ball.

Seeing normalcy made Five sigh, he was envious of those people. People who lived a normal life had it better than him. He could not stop the feeling of envy creeping up on him. After all, they didn't have to worry about putting their lives on the line for others. Unlike them, the boy grew up in a dysfunctional household and got thrusted into the apocalypse at a young age. He was forced to grow up early and prioritize his life over others, which went against the old man's teachings.

As Five was busy with his own demons, he didn't notice you had let in uninvited guests.

You were bored out of your mind, and began to look out the window in hopes of finding something interesting, until you saw a familiar lanky figure heading towards the van. It was Klaus heading towards the van with Luther in tow, you opened the back door and waved at them to come in.

The lanky man skipped his way to the backdoor and began conversing with Dolores. As you tried your best to stop him from harassing it - because you had a feeling Five would rip him to pieces.

"I didn't think I would find a beauty like you in here." The seance whispered into Dolores' ear.

"Master Klaus you shouldn't-"

"Shh shh, let her speak." He said as he caressed the mannequin's cheek, even though it didn't say a word, Klaus giggled and started cradling Dolores in his arms.

"Does everyone in the Hargreeves family like talking to non-living things or something?" You questioned yourself as you bit the inside of your cheek.

At the front of the truck, it seemed like Luther was planning to sit in the passenger seat but it was locked. You unlocked the door for him since Five was unresponsive. You silently watched as the larger male struggled to enter the van due to his frame.

Suddenly, the brunette in the driver's seat screamed.

“No!” Five's scream caught you and Spaceboy's attention, you hurriedly went to his side and rubbed the small of his back.

“Five.” You murmured not wanting to overwhelm him with loud sounds.

“Five!” Luther called out, the volume of his voice made you flinch and cover the ear he screamed at.

“Hey Five!” The male shouted once again yet, it wasn't effective.

“NO!” The younger male screamed as he grabbed onto his hair whilst his eyes widened in fear, his breathing becoming ragged.

“Five!” You shook Five awake as the larger male shouted his brother's name like a mantra, trying to bring back the boy into reality.

When the brunette finally calmed down, you continued rubbing his back, concern etched into your features. “Are you alright, Master Five?”

He disregarded your words as he began to process the uninvited guest that sat on the passenger seat, "You shouldn’t be… How did you find me?”

“Um…” Space boy gestured to Klaus, who sat at the back of the van, cradling Five's beloved in his arms.

The seance murmured, “Hey baby…”

Once the lanky man noticed everyone's eyes were on him, he shooed away their lingering gazes. “Hey, a little privacy, guys. We’re really hitting it off back here.”

Out of irritation, the boy throws the nearest object at Klaus. The lanky man screamed and used the mannequin as a shield, in an attempt to protect himself. Luckily, you caught the object before Klaus got injured and threw Five a side eye, which made him roll his eyes.

“Get out! You can’t be here! I’m in the middle of something." The physically younger male hissed at his barely sober brother.

The seance dismissed his threat and approached his brothers who sat at the front of the van. “Any luck finding out your one-eyed man?”

“No.” Five whispered, internally groaning at the fact he even trusted his idiot of a brother with the secret of the apocalypse.

“What’s he talking about?” Luther brought up with a raised brow.

“Does it matter? It’s Klaus.” The boy quickly shot down.

At first, Klaus looked hurt but, he redirected his gaze to the larger male as though silently asking Luther to defend him but, nothing came out of Spaceboy's mouth. Defeated, the seance breathed through his nose and acted as though he wasn't hurt. Out of pity, you rubbed his back.

The small brunette sighed, “What do you want, Luther?”

“So…” Dirty blond male cautiously glanced at you, “So, Grace may have something to do with Dad’s death.” He paused and glanced at you again trying to read if you have a reaction. “I need you to come back to the academy, all right? It’s important.”

"Is something on my face?" You asked yourself as you started to feel your face if there was a bloodstain you forgot to wipe away from Five's wounds.

“It’s important.” Five mocked his brother’s words then scoffed. “You have no concept of what’s important.”

“Hey!” Klaus interrupted, “Did I ever tell you guys about the time I waxed my ass with chocolate pudding?”

The lanky man laughed his stomach out, sadly, the others weren't laughing along with him. “It was so painful!”

Luther and Five grimaced at their brother's words, while you looked at the seance as though he had committed a sin. Despite everyone's obvious disgust, someone else - besides Klaus - managed to laugh because of his shenanigans, it was Five. You witnessed the boy turn his head then hid his giggle underneath his breath. It was oddly adorable.

“What are you still doing here?” The larger man scrunched up his brows, his gaze on Klaus.

“I- What? I need an excuse to hang out with my family?” Klaus placed a hand on his chest, offended by the other male's choice of words.

“We’re trying to have a serious conversation here.”

“What, and I’m incapable of being serious? Is that what you’re saying?”

At this point, you couldn't help but frown and feel bad for Klaus. No one in the family took him seriously just like how they treated Vanya. He acts as though he isn't bothered but, you know it hurts him, just as much as how the others treated Vanya differently.

“Luther’s got a point, you should get out.” Five added.

“What?!"

Reluctantly, the lanky man crawls out of the van murmuring how it was unfair. Once he got out of the van, he screamed “FINE!” then slammed the door closed.

"I- I should go after Master Klaus…" You said quietly then followed Klaus to the convenience store. You had a feeling he'd cause trouble and it would be best someone would be there to prevent it.

Once you and Klaus left, the atmosphere in the van became tense. The unspoken rivalry, rather, the one sided rivalry between Luther and Five was becoming more evident to the naked eye. Since you left, Luther felt like he could finally bring up his suspicion of you to Five.

“What the hell are you up to?” Luther questioned whilst he observed the seance and the servant head to the convenience store together.

“You wouldn’t understand.” The younger male stated, his eyes narrowing at the prosthetics building across them.

“Try me. Last I checked, I’m still the leader of this family.”

“Well, last I checked. I’m 18 years older than you.”

The larger man inhaled deeply then turned to his 'younger' brother. “You know what your problem is?”

“Really hoping you’ll tell me.” Five sarcastically remarked, his hazel eyes never leaving the building across the van.

“You think you’re better than us. You always have. Even when we were kids. But the truth is, you’re just as messed up as the rest of us. We’re all you have and you know it.”

The brunette lets out a dejected sigh. “I don’t think I’m better than you, Number One. I know I am.”

Spaceboy chuckled at his words, Five just proved his point.

“I’ve done unimaginable things, things you couldn’t even comprehend.” the boy pointed out as his grip on the steering wheel tightened but it came off as an exaggeration to Luther, “Right…”

“Just to get back here and save you all.” Five added.

Unexpectedly, the convenience store from across the street was experiencing a commotion, catching the passersby's attention along with Five and Luther's. Out came Klaus carrying a huge amount of food in his arms followed by the security guard screaming for him to halt.

“Whoa!” The seance runs with the food he shoplifted as the security ran after him.

One of the security guards screamed with a baton in hand. “Stop!”

“Hey! Stop right now!”

The lanky man waves at the van, some of the food he stole fell behind. Due to his carelessness, he almost gets run over by a taxi, luckily it stopped halfway, though he managed to narrowly dodge the vehicle.

As for you, you were held back at the convenience store as you paid for the food your master shoplifted. You internally grumbled about regretting ever feeling pity for him and how you should have known he would have pulled a stunt like this.

After that whole fiasco, Luther was about to leave the van until he remembered something he had been planning to tell Five once you weren't around.

"Since you don't plan on showing up to the family meeting, I'll give you a heads up, Y/N might have something to do with dad's death." Luther said, his back against the boy.

Five's eyes widened and his grip on the steering wheel tightened as the puzzles in his head began to fall into pieces. "You have nothing to worry about. I've dealt with people like her."

ㅤㅤㅤ❲ T H E ☕ S E R V A N T ❳

Luther and Allison gathered every family member in the living room, except Five since he was being stubborn. The monitor that he and Allison were playing with last night, currently sat on the bar, the video tape already in it. All he needed to do was play the footage…

The large male took in a deep breath then played it. The monitor replayed the night of the murder, Grace was taking care of the Monocle's needs, suddenly he started twitching and fell on his back, amidst him experiencing a heart attack, Ms. Grace did nothing but look down at him instead of doing what she was programmed to do.

The whole room went silent, Luther observed the other's reactions and noticed that only Vanya and Klaus were mortified. Number one expected that he and Allison were the only ones who wouldn't be surprised but you and Diego didn't seem surprised by the footage. Diego seemed a little too satisfied whilst you looked away from the monitor.

The dirty blond male narrowed his brows, "Suspicious."

“I mean, do you really think that mom would hurt Dad?”, Vanya broke the silence.

“You haven’t been home in a long time, Vanya. Maybe you don’t know Grace anymore.”

“If he was poisoned, it would have shown up in the coroner’s report.” Diego remarked with a matter of factly tone.

“Well, I don’t need a report to tell me what I can see with my own eyes.”

“Maybe all that low gravity in space messed with your head.” The lad in black leather approached the monitor and replayed the footage. “Dad has his monocle. Grace stands up. Monocle’s gone.”

Klaus laughed, “Oh, yeah!”

The Latino turns his back, “She wasn’t poisoning him. She was… taking the monocle, to clean it.”

“Then where is it?”

Everyone went silent not having an answer to that question. You, even as an accomplice, didn't even know where it was. You were pretty sure disposing of the monocle was not part of the plan…

“No, I’ve searched the whole house, including her things. She doesn’t have it.”

The kraken looked down as he took out his knife and fidgeted with it, till his eyes met Luther's. “That’s because I took it from her. After the funeral.”

“You’ve had the monocle this whole time? What the hell, Diego!” Allison exclaimed.

“Give it to me.” Luther commanded, taking a few strides towards Diego, his hand out awaiting for the monocle to be returned.

“I threw it away.”

The rumor scoffed at her brother's admission.

“You what? ” Number one’s voice boomed.

“Look, I knew that if you found it on Mom, you’d lose your shit. Just like you are doing right now.” The latino menacingly pointed at Spaceboy's direction with the pointed edge of his dagger.

“Diego, you son of a bitch.” Luther walks over to Number two but Vanya interrupts him before another fight starts, you mirror her actions as well and walk in front of Diego to prevent him from doing anything reckless.

“Hey. no. calm down.” Vanya said, “Look, I know dad wasn’t exactly an open book. But, I do remember one thing. He said Mom was, well, designed to be a caretaker but also as a protector.”

“Well, if her hardware is degrading, then… We need to turn her off.”

"Oh no." You thought. This was definitely not part of Mr. Hargreeves' plan.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait. She’s not just a vacuum you can throw into a closet. She feels things, I’ve seen it.” The kraken angrily said as his glare hardened, along with the finger pointing becoming more abundant.

“She stood there, and watched our father die.” The dirty blond male pointed out as he gestured to the footage.

“I’m with Luther.”

“Surprise, surprise.” Diego sarcastically retorted.

“Shut up.” The rumor barked back.

Suddenly, the whole room looked at Vanya, expecting an answer out of her. “I- I don't-”

"Yeah, she shouldn't get a vote." Diego interrupted her before she could decide but Vanya snapped back at him. "I was gonna say that I agree with you."

"Okay. She should get a vote."

The Latino turned to Klaus, "What about you, stoner boy? What are you thinking?"

"Oh, so, what? Do you need my help now? Oh 'Get out of the van, Klaus!', 'Well, welcome back to the van.' -

"What van?" The woman in curls interjected, not following through with this whole van thing. Fortunately for her, she wasn't alone as Vanya didn't know what the van metaphor was for.

The large male released a sigh and changed the topic, "What's it gonna be Klaus?"

“I’m with Diego because screw you Luther! And if Ben were here, he'd agree with me." The lanky man replied while looking Luther in the eye, as though to intimidate him.

"So, that's three to two."

"Vote's not final yet." The actress stated which caused the whole room to raise eyebrows.

"What?"

"Five's not here." She pointed out. You could hear everyone - except Luther who was silently thanking her - internally groan at her words. At this point, she was just stalling!

The lad in black leather scoffed and then argued, "You really think Five would show up to something as stupid as this?"

"Why don't we just let Y/N vote for him?" Klaus suggested as he pushed you forward like a sacrificial lamb.

"Master Klaus, I'm afraid I can't do that-"

"She doesn't have a say in this." You stiffened at Luther's words, "I don't like the sound of that."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? That she is not one of us? She is treated like an experiment and got traumatized because of that bastard! How is she any different from us?" Diego fought back on your steed, while you looked at him like he had grown another head.

"Because we-"

"Just you, Luther." Allison corrected, looking away from the scene before her.

"I think she might be an accomplice in Dad's death." The larger male finished her sentence which made the living room feel unwelcoming as dead silence followed.

The Latino scoffed then taunted the big man, "I'm surprised your mouth hasn't retired from carrying all that shit your ass couldn't handle."

"And here we go again." The rumor muttered under her breath.

Luther ignored his brother's taunts and began providing arguments, "During dad's funeral, Y/N was supposed to check on the footage and report to me if there was anything suspicious but she didn't inform me."

"That's because I was with Five, I'm supposed to be watching over him in case the effects of time traveling were kicking in." You hurriedly replied which unknowingly raised suspicion in Luther's eyes.

"Didn't you and Pogo switch shifts whilst monitoring the CCTVs?"

"Yes but, I didn't have time to check on the tapes-"

"You didn't have time yet the tape was conveniently placed on top of the cabinet." The dirty blond male pointed out, your eyes widened in fear because you didn't know how to defend yourself… You felt helpless.

You were well aware that you were not the one who placed the tape there, so it could have been Pogo. As much as you would love to defend yourself, you couldn't exactly speak out either since this would ruin the plan but you were itching to stand up for yourself. In the end, you sucked it up and didn't say a word.

"You even told me that I should 'broaden your scope, especially your list of suspects'. " Luther's eyes felt like lasers being burned through your skull.

You gulped, looking down at your feet as your tears were ready to cascade down your cheeks. You even regretted leaving those clues for him because you didn't think you would be put into this position, "I- I was… I was trying to cheer you up…"

"Is that the only excuse you can come up with?" Luther scoffed, he almost sounded like his father… It scares you.

"Vanya, please keep an eye on Y/N for now." The larger male ordered the petite woman.

Desperately, you walked up to him, "I know it looks bad but, Can I at least attempt to get Five back? His decision might help finalize what to do with Ms. Grace."

"His decision won't save you."

At this point, you were trembling. The ringing in your ears became louder, your mind zoning out until you felt a hand on your shoulder, you turned to see it was Klaus wearing a reassuring smile though it didn't do much.

"That's enough Luther, you're scaring her." Allison finally stepped in.

The violinist approached your side cautiously then gently whispered, "Y/N, I believe it's best you listen to Luther for now."

"For now, let's wait for Five to return. The whole family has to vote. We owe each other that." The rumor ended the discussion and everyone began to part their ways.

Once Vanya finished conversing with Diego about Ms. Grace, she - gently - took you by your wrist and headed to your room. You were so busy in your head that you didn't realize that Vanya was the one taking you to your room.

The violinist wore a concerned look on her face, "Hey, Y/N, you alright? You seem so out of it? It's very unusual for you… I'm assuming you are bothered by what Luther said? You looked like you were about to cry earlier."

"I'm not bothered, just worried about Five. I was supposed to be by his side but I ended up getting house arrest instead." You answered jokingly but you could not bring yourself to fake a smile.

Vanya laughed, not noticing that your energy didn't match your tone. "If it helps, I don't think you would kill dad."

"You wouldn't know that…" You wanted to say that but kept it to yourself.

"So don't beat yourself up over this, if you're innocent you have nothing to lose."

You briefly replied with a fake smile, "Yeah. Thanks."

The petite brunette noticed the brief reply but shrugged it off then changed topics. "So, I've heard from the others that you and Five have been hanging out, is that true?"

You nodded.

"I didn't think he'd open up to you… with how he openly hates you and all- Not saying that it's a bad thing that you guys are getting along now! It's just… unexpected is all."

You relaxed for a bit and chuckled. You knew for a fact neither of you guys were getting along. At most, you guys were just tolerating each other because you all saw how you guys benefited from each other.

"That's one way of putting it." You murmured.

You and Vanya arrived in your room and sat on your bed. In sync, you guys laid down on your backs and stared at the ceiling above you guys.

"So how's Five doing?" The brunette questioned, probably worried about his mental state considering what happened the day before… or was it earlier?

"Well, from what I can tell, he's getting used to people…" you answered, trying to evade the topic of the apocalypse when answering her question.

Vanya exhaled through her nostrils, "I really should have insisted for him to get help."

"I understand your concern Miss Vanya but, you can't help someone who doesn't recognize they need help. You would only be wasting your energy."

"I'm sorry," She murmured, a habit of hers that she never got over.

You smiled then added, "You have nothing to be sorry about, you're just doing what you think is right."

"Y/N can I ask you something?"

You nodded giving her the go signal.

"Why would you try to comfort Luther by advising him to look into other people as well?"

You froze up. You couldn't lie to Vanya, something was telling you that you couldn't go against someone's orders. "I can't-"

Unexpectedly, a myriad of gunshots were coming from the hallway.

"Hide!" You shouted, before Vanya could protest, you urgently hid her in your closet as you hid under the bed.

Once the sound of gunshots and blades clanking simmered down, you got out of your hiding spot and readied your retractable bo staff. Vanya got out of the closet as well once she heard you got out of your hiding spot.

"Miss Vanya, I will be heading out to assist the others," You grabbed a ballistic shield you have been hiding behind the closet, "I'll be giving you this ballistic shield for your protection. Please don't make any sound."

"Wait, Y/N you shouldn't-" Number seven grabbed your wrist in an attempt to stop you but the determined look on your face made her grip loosen.

"I have to Miss Vanya, I'm sorry. It's my responsibility to protect you- I mean, protect the academy. I can't just stand by and watch them throw away their lives like that."

Vanya was left speechless with your words. You did not outright say anything about her being ordinary or not having powers but, it felt like the term "responsibility" became synonymous with the word “power”. It made her think that she didn't have the power to protect others nor herself, that's why other people had to get themselves hurt to protect her.

"Remember, do not open the door for anyone even if you know it's someone you think you can trust; We don't know what the intruder is capable of, so trust no one. I will let you know if the coast is clear so keep a lookout for my messages." You told her then left your room, unknowingly leaving Vanya to her thoughts.

You cautiously surveyed the hallway, you held the bo staff's body with high alert including your other senses actively looking for the intruders that entered the academy. When you reached the stairs, you witnessed Diego and Allison simultaneously attacking a familiar pink masked person. You were about to jump into the action until you heard Vanya's voice from the living room.

ㅤㅤㅤ❲ T H E ☕ S E R V A N T ❳

"Hello?" Vanya went down the stairs, worry in her voice and facial features.

"Guys? Is everyone okay?"

"Hello? Guys?" She entered the living room unaware of the danger emanating from the lounge.

Once the violinist entered the room she tried to look for any signs of life but only saw the result of the fight, which was gun residue and bullet casings littering the area. As she was about to leave and investigate the other rooms, she heard chains rattling behind her.

The petite woman turned and was met with the intruder who wore a blue cartoony mask, who was wielding a morning star. He swung it towards Vanya but she ducked just in time. As he was about to hit her with his arm, a two-pronged spear stopped him midway, which created a distance between Vanya and the intruder.

The spear was a surprise to everyone in the living room except you, they turned their gaze and met your hues. Once the masked man's attention was set on you, Vanya quickly hid not wanting to be a liability.

"If you're looking for someone to fight, at least pick someone who can fight." You taunted the larger man.

With ease, you jumped from the second floor then dash towards the masked man, using the momentum you've picked up, you raised your foot and pushed kick his torso away. The impact made him stumble backwards and pause as he tried to gather his footing.

The spear that you threw at him earlier is now in your hands, you pressed the button that would retract the prongs and swung it towards the mask - his head was your main target - which made him stagger back again.

"This brat is too quick, I should've left her with Cha cha." Hazel grumbled to himself.

Despite the obvious large distance, you cautiously took a few steps backwards and used the staff as a boundary. An open hand supporting the head of the bo staff whilst a closed fist on the butt of the staff holding onto it with a strong grip.

Seeing as the double attack to his head was making him fall behind, you quickly withdrew from your defensive stance then, taunted the masked man by spinning your bo staff. Once he regained his footing, he swung the ball of spikes onto the body of the staff, so it would fall apart.

However, you decided to take a gamble and retract it. You dashed forward to tackle him but, due to the frame and weight differences, your attack didn't affect him. Unknown to him, this was all part of your plan, this was the distance you needed for your next move. You made the staff face upwards then unretracted it which propelled his chin thus leading him to fall backwards.

By now he was outside the living room, you were out of breath and so the masked man. Your main objective was achieved, Vanya wasn't within his reach but, you were not sure if you could hold him off any longer.

"Hey, asshole." Luther greeted. Despite what he did to you earlier, you were thankful for his presence.

"Y/N go look for Pogo and Grace!"

You nodded and headed off to where you usually see Pogo and Grace. Once you have met up with the advanced chimpanzee you guided him to the basement and reassured him that everything was under control. You were planning to go out and look for Grace this time but, curiosity got the better of you.

"Did you hire those people?" You questioned as your grip on the retractable bo staff tightening.

"Master Hargreeves never hired an outside party to get involved… It must be someone who knows what he is planning, or people after his fortune." He replied but you were not satisfied with his answer, it was evident on your face.

You scoffed then exclaimed, "What the hell is he planning?! Vanya almost got killed out there!"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you. Master Hargreeves made me swear to not speak of it, unless the truth is finally revealed to the whole academy."

You were livid but walked away from him with a huff, to go look for Ms. Grace. At this point, you have given up on trying to find out the truth. Even though you were one of the Monocle's loyal servants, he treated you like the other numbers and kept you in the dark despite his hesitancy to trust you, he gave you little to no information, so you would be left to figure it out yourself.

Once you received Vanya's text, you went out of the basement and surveyed the house if there were lingering intruders. Suddenly, you ran to where you heard the crash come from and saw a fallen chandelier along with the other numbers who looked like they were still processing what they witnessed.

"What happened?" You broke the silence, it seemed like they were hesitant to answer but Allison managed to speak. "A chandelier fell on Luther, please check on him."

You bowed to the rumor, as you were ready to leave Vanya, Allison and Diego to their own devices.

Suddenly, the violinist's question made you freeze, "Who were those people?"

You were well aware that the question was not directed towards you but, the instinct - a rumor - told you to answer her but, then you saw Diego narrowing his eyes at you, as though silently questioning why you haven't left. You tightened your lips into a line then silently went to the clinic to prep for Luther's wounds.

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[rakkuntoast]

ok i got nothing else to do so here's a transcript of the whole trauma talk

philza stream july 22nd 3:26:06

Tallulah: if i think u were paranoid, he is even more. y'all need a break

Phil: i mean it's cuz we've like experienced some kind of loss with the eggs, right? so, we've had the nightmare, alright. Chayanne lost a life to neglect cuz of misscommunication. Tallulah, you lost a life to the code monster...

Phil: Like we've felt what it's like to have you guys dissappear from our grasp, right? you've like- you've dissapeared from this world briefly, and we know what it's like. Like i-i've personally know what it's like, for you guys to fucking dissapear entirely like, the nightmare happened and i thought that was it, i was like "fuck well, it's done" and i felt so empty, right?

Phil: I-I genuenly felt like i lost a hardcore world, like- the 5 year world that i lost? that's what it felt like, i was like fucking miserable. And then bad uh- lost dapper like- like in a weird glitch type thing, and that got reverted. But when it happened, you can hear it in his voice like, he was distraught like- theres like a bond that we share even if is playing block game, you know?

Phil: we're just hanging out like, i wanna protect you guys with everything i can. everything i have i wanna protect you with, you know? but... i understand that i can't protect you for everything, so i just try to protect you from that i can, so... (and ooc out-of-character, i think everyone watching is incredibly invested also -laughs-, we're in the same boat)

Tallulah: It's understandable, thanks for sharing how u feel with us i'll be more careful

Phil: that's okay, you- you- you're very careful already tallulah, it's chayanne that fucking dives head first into danger all the time. He's- he's a bit more reserved now, you can do that chayanne when like theres more people, its fine, cuz then we can look after you, we can back you up. But when its just me and you, or me, you and tallulah.... we gotta- we gotta stick together, alright? we've seen all kinds of strange things happen

Chayanne: i mean, gosh i'm bad with words!!!

Phil: yeah, its alright. im just gonna throw some blocks out of my inventory

Tallulah: i gotchu brother

Phil: awww -laughs- gotta back eachother up, back eachother up guys

Tallulah: you show more with ur actions chay, that's more than enough

Chayanne: i dont want to die, i wont die soon, i take everything you showed us seriously

Phil: (overlaps) guessing "super seriously", yeah yeah yeah yeah.

Phil: You know what i think makes it more stressful? Is that us players can't see your health, right? So like, we don't iknow how close you are to danger, we can't- you can't talk to us mid fight, alright? like, you talk to us throught signs and books and stuff but like, we have to go through body language alone to figure out how in danger you are... You can't tell us, you dont have like a button to press, you don't have- there's like nothing to indicate that you're extremely low on health or in peril, alright?

Phil: So it makes it more stressful for the players and the people watching cuz we dont know, so i have to just be super fucking careful... And just treat it like you're on like barely any heart all the time, just in case

Chayanne: Thank you so much for that, when the giant squid grabbed me i was shaking-

Phil: -laughs- Oh god

Tallulah: Thank you for being such a good mentor (and father figure) i can't promise i might not die, but i will fight if i have to-

Phil: Oh i absolutely believe you'll do your absolute best to survive tallulah

Chayanne: When the giant squid grabbed me i was shaking bc i thought that was the end of it

Phil: Yeah- that was terrifying yeah, it's so- it's so like stressful

Tallulah: -to still be here with you all. i promised my papa and i make that promise to you

Phil: Aww, thank you Tallulah, thank you.

Phil: I feel like there's enough counter-measures in place that- realistically um it shouldnt be- nothing bad would happen like- you souldn't lose a life but.. You know me, and I- you know how im- I just I know that multiple bad things can stack on top of eachother and cause a really bad thing to happen, so like we have to be just careful of that, you know? You can be prepared for anything but there's always gonna be ways that you'll be unprepared for something, alright Phil: so- as long as we just prepare as much as we can and just be extra safe and not put ourselves in unnecessary danger then.. These situations that could happen can't happen. The only thing we can't prevent against really, or we can prevent it a little bit- but we can't really prevent it is when the code monster decides to take the life from an egg cuz.. You've seen it first hand, it does not give up

Chayanne: So yeah, it's not a good feeling ;_;

Phil: Yeah... I'm glad you guys are in the same page

Tallulah: In conclusion: we need to go to tio Roier's therapy sessions

Phil: -laughs- Is Quackity paying for it, yeah? Quackity got that on lock, it's like and insurance- it's like a company insurance, like a benefit you have for working with the server. its like "okay so uhh, who needs to book a therapy session today" everyone raises their hand at the same time, good god. Yeah, we'll go to family therapy together, we'll work it out, we'll work it out

edit: minor spelling mistake </3

[monoclesnapple]

Rockstar!Chuuya

Bungo Stray Dogs Chuuya Nakahara X Gender Neutral Reader Beginning Note: Little hint of Streamer!Chuuya, but it's not the main focus. Thinking of making this a full fic, but with a lot of stuff on my plate at the moment and my motivation dwindling, it may be a while before I upload a chapter. Word Count: 594 (Fluff)

Rockstar Chuuya, who’s overwhelmed with fans prying into his life and trying to know everything there is about him.

Has an s/o who isn’t involved with his career, so they’re his only peaceful outlet in life.

Chuuya streams in his free time about anything. Sometimes he just talks with the chat, plays some games, reviews current events in the world and any future plans that can be disclosed to the public.

But he doesn’t include his s/o because he doesn’t want his fans to potentially target them due to jealousy or some other reason.

He’s shipped with popular actor, Dazai, because they’ve done a couple collaborations, whether for meet & greets, films, interviews, etc.

Assures his s/o that he won’t leave them ever because they’re the only one he feels comfortable with to be able to show them his vulnerability.

Whenever he streams, the number of viewers is overwhelming and they’re always asking for confirmation on who his lover is.

At some point, he’s tired of what his fans are saying, so he takes you to a restaurant that’s littered with people, instead of the usual empty location due to him going to the most expensive restaurant or booking the whole place.

All the paparazzi are taking pictures, and there are so many news articles questioning who this person is.

On his next stream, he seats you on his lap and tells his audience that he’s been dating you and won’t be leaving you any time soon.

He was worried that his fans would despise you, but the trending topics on his newly revealed relationship support the both of you.

Everyone now loves you because they think you fit him so well. Those who hate on the relationship are attacked by his fans.

Chuuya sees all the responses and feels a warmth in his chest because he’s glad that you’re accepted by his community.

Now, there are a lot of fanfiction shipping the two of you. You read most of them and are entertained by their strange fantasies of you both (although a little creeped out and hesitant about the smuts. Some fics, you’re a little worried).

Chuuya writes a song inspired by the events, and it’s successful. The music is cool and while the story told by the lyrics isn’t necessarily relatable, it makes sense.

At the end of one of his concerts, Chuuya calls you up to the stage where he gets down on one knee, holding a box with a beautiful ring, and proposes to you.

“You’ve always been by my side, no matter how hard it was to reassure my love for you. Despite everything that we’ve been through, you always made me feel loved and safe. I can’t and I won’t let someone like you leave. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Of course you accept, pulling him up and kissing him. The audience and other members on the stage cheer and clap for your milestone. When you pull away, he slips the ring on your finger and kisses you again.

Rockstar!Chuuya Nakahara, who continues his career and plans your wedding with you. His bank account doesn’t require a budget.

Rockstar!Chuuya Nakahara, who eagerly and nervously waits for you at the alter. The two of you say your own vows and immediately kiss when the words “You may now kiss” are uttered.

Rockstar!Chuuya Nakahara, who is eventually granted a child and golden retriever. Whose happiness is impossible to describe with all the words in the dictionary.

Whose fast paced music matches the beat of your heart.

[burr-ell]

Honestly, it feels really good seeing Claude fan who also happens to love Lady Rhea. There's really not enough of us

Sending love 💛💚

anon this warmed my heart so much im gonna give u a snippet from the claude & rhea friendship fic i never got around to finishing <3

He took a deep breath and knocked.

“Enter.”

He opened the door and stepped into the archbishop’s chambers. The atmosphere was surprisingly soothing, sunlight streaming through the windows and a floral perfume permeating the air. Rhea was sitting up in her nice, if plain-looking, canopy bed, resting against a couple of squashy pillows with a teacup and a book on the bedside table.

“You wished to see me, Claude?” she asked.

“I did.”

“I take it you have further questions?”

“Thought I’d come to pick your brain,” he said easily. “You’re the only one who’s ever taken on Nemesis directly. We need all the help we can get straight from the source.”

Rhea smiled, almost unnervingly genuine. “I can advise you, provided we discuss what’s really on your mind first.”

He’d expected her to be able to disarm him, but he hadn’t expected her to be so pleasant about it. Still, he was nothing if not nimble. “That easy to read, am I?”

“Not at all, actually. Seteth has often complained of it to me.” Her eyes flicked upward, a practiced gesture of exasperated fondness. “But do not forget that I have been in hiding for over a thousand years. There are many skills I lack, but I can detect a master of the craft.”

“Then it looks like we’re on the same playing field.”

Rhea sighed. “I cannot force you to lower your guard, nor do I expect it, but…please, at least have a seat.”

She gestured to the chair next to her bed, and Claude seated himself, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

“I gather you would still like to know more of the story of your professor.”

“There are still so many things that Byl—Teach still doesn’t know.”

“Including that you are here speaking with me.”

Claude nodded—he’d have been more surprised if she hadn’t guessed. “I didn’t want to worry her. And I think…she needs time before she can speak to you objectively.”

Rhea heaved a sigh, tipping her head back against the bed frame. “I understand. I—I gave you both quite enough information to take in. And…and she must be feeling…I cannot possibly understand what.”

“Neither can she.” He was careful to keep his tone neutral, but it was hard not to be accusatory.

“I owe her many apologies,” Rhea said softly. “Apologies that I cannot expect her to accept.”

“I can’t speak to where her head’s at right now,” Claude said slowly (honestly, Byleth’s head was still an enigma to him sometimes), “but I don’t think she’s—angry. She’s just…” He pressed his lips together in thought, then continued. “She’s spent her whole life being treated like a tool. And then she came here and sort of…found herself. And then she found out that someone who helped make that happen also wanted to use her.” He would know. He’d done the very same thing, before he’d gotten to know his best friend. His…well.

Rhea closed her eyes miserably. “I know. I have greatly wronged her.”

“She also understands why you did it,” Claude continued, “and why you kept it a secret. It’s just…a lot to process. Especially for someone who for so long didn’t even understand how to really feel anything.”

“And what about you?”

Claude tipped his head. “Me?”

Rhea frowned. “You are known for your inquisitiveness, and your thirst for knowledge. Yet you did little to question what I revealed to you. Why?”

Claude propped his chin in one hand, rubbing his lip thoughtfully with his index finger. “Honestly…what you told us made everything I’d been looking at for five years click into place. Just looking at the Relics alone, knowing what we know, and you can tell they’re made of—y’know.”

Rhea nodded, in a resigned sort of way.

“But if you don’t know the full story,” Claude went on, “you might not really think about it. Most people can’t use them, and they’re kept hidden away when they’re not being wielded. Even I didn’t get a look at Failnaught until my grandfather actually passed and I inherited the estate.”

Churning insides were nothing new to Claude, having dealt with them both naturally and otherwise, but even mentioning the bow was making him a bit queasy. How he’d yearned for the chance to wield it, knowing it would give him the opportunity to study it up close and grant him the power to achieve his greatest dreams, and now…

“It all makes sense now,” he continued softly. “I’ve never heard of something so horrific. And the way Seteth and Flayn are so secretive, and how upset Seteth was when Flayn went missing…” He paused, mulling over whether to reveal this particular piece of information—but it was unlikely that Rhea hadn’t seen such a thing coming, and at any rate, in light of all she’d shared with them, she deserved as full a story as he could give in return. “Seteth once confiscated a diagram I was showing Teach, of a creature called The Immaculate One. It had already given me some clues about Crest stones and Relics. At the time I thought it was because the church had something to hide…and in a way, I was right. And now I know that he was right to take it.”

Claude leaned a little closer, meeting Rhea’s eyes and their combined relief and sorrow. It was an expression he knew well—of finally finding someone who understood. “I didn’t even think to say it before. I am so, so sorry, for everything that happened to you. No one deserves to live in fear just because of who they are.”

“You…” Rhea swallowed thickly, eyes misting. Claude fell silent and averted his gaze, giving her a moment to regain her composure.

She took a deep breath. “Your words touch my heart—truly, they do. Yours is a perspective gained from cruel experience.”

She knew. Or at least she’d guessed. It was unsurprising, really, but he couldn’t help the thrill of anxiety pulsing in the back of his mind. Even so…there was an odd kinship here, one he didn’t even feel with Byleth when they discussed it, that kept his panic at bay. “Yeah,” he murmured, “I do. I know better than most people what it’s like to be resented and hated for being who I am. And what I’ve been through…it can’t even compare to what happened to you, and Seteth and Flayn.”

Rhea smiled, eyes still watery. “Such things are not competitive. At the end of it all, there are others who understand.”