The List ~Pt. 7.5 - Clarity~

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Reader

Summary: Written from Alastor's POV, this chapter gives insight of what the Radio Demon is up to during Part 7. Feeling like you (Alastor) are going mad, you makes a visit to your dearest friend leading to a shocking confession to Husker.

Themes: The usual angst, mystery, sassiness, cursing, fluff, actual plot, Rosie is the sweetest, slow burn, poor Husker, and of course 18+

A/N: This part isn't necessarily needed to follow the story however it was fun to do something a little different. I tried writing in Alastor's voice and give a (small) glimpse into his side.

3.6k Words

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5  Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.A (You're on it!) Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

**sentences in italics are internal thoughts of the reader/Alastor

This is maddening. You buried yourself in pointless work. Anything to refrain from having to leave your tower and see the others around the hotel, especially her. The foreign ache in your chest only throbbed more at the thought of seeing the hurt in her eyes. Reckless fool! How could I allow her to make me feel such emotions? Almost a hundred years of creating my image and some sinner has the ability to destroy me like this - no - of course not…she was never just some sinner…

Slumping over the scattered paperwork across the desk, you bury your head in your claws. Time was non-existent. Has it been hours? Weeks? Months? No, couldn’t have been that long since you watched her entire being shatter right in front of you. The pain was too much for it to have been that long. This was supposed to just be a partnership, a power grab…How did I end up like this? The radio tower has been your home since she left. You were far too prideful to go back to your room, too afraid of what would happen the moment you caught a whiff of her perfume that surely lingered in every grain of wood and every fiber of your sheets. 

A few soft taps at the door pull you from your tormented mind. Quickly standing from the desk, you straighten your shirt and throw on the same suit jacket you’ve worn for who knows how long. I must keep up appearances, no one can suspect anything otherwise. 

With a shake of your head, you plaster on the usual smile and open the door to see Charlie and Vaggie. “Hey Al! Just wanted to let you know we are about to head up to Heaven for a few hours. Mind keeping an eye on the hotel while we are gone?” Charlie beamed with an excitement that quite contrasted her partner's uncomfortable scowl. 

“Of course my dear! Your hotelier has everything covered.” you chime with a half-hearted bow. Vaggie steps forward, obviously annoyed, “Don’t set anything on fire, don’t destroy any more walls, and please for the hundredth time - keep Nifty out of our room. Last time she tried to throw out all my clothes!”  You hum in acknowledgement and follow a concerningly bouncy Charlie down to the lobby where, like clockwork, a portal to Heaven opens. “Common Vaggie! Bye everyone!” Charlie hops through the portal, dragging a less than amused Vaggie behind her. 

“Sheesh Smiles, you look like -” Angel starts to say before promptly shutting up and going back to his phone after seeing the glare you shoot towards him. Twirling your cane, you walk over to the bar where Husk tentatively pulls out a glass as if silently asking if you wanted a drink. You wave him off, “No need Husker. I have much to do today and need to be of a clear head.” Yeah right, like I’ve managed a clear head at all lately. “Though I am curious, where is our charming little friend? I heard she had fallen ill.”

Husk shrugs but Angel is quick to chime in, “Oh Charlie sent her to get some things from town and take them to Lucifer. She’ll probably be back soon…as long as Lucifer doesn’t take up too much of her time - if you know what I mean.” Angel mutters the last part seductively with a wink. A fiery rage burns through your veins. How dare he insinuate something so repulsive!? The urge to shred the sinner limb from limb boils over and your eyes flash to him, “It’d be wise to keep such vile comments to yourself spider.” you hiss through gritted teeth. A relaxed smile returns as you regain composure and walk away. Without her around, you figure you’ll have some time to freely move about the hotel, busying yourself with the usual to-dos.

You finish the last of your tasks and begin to head back to the tower when Vaggie and Charlie come flying back through a portal, landing harshly on their backs. Tears flood Charlie’s face. She pulls out her phone to make a call, “Dad, you were right. It was horrible!” she says before hanging up. Within seconds another portal opens within the lobby, this time Lucifer coming through. Of course he has to make a grand appearance. 

Your attention snaps back to Charlie in time to see her shove Vaggie away and bolt up the stairs. Now would be a good time to make quite an impression on the girl. You attempt to follow the princess but Lucifer drives his elbow into your side, forcing you into the railing. Every muscle in your face twists in annoyance at the pretentious little “King”. The urge to go after him is quickly snuffed by the feeling of eyes burning into your back. 

A glance over your shoulder makes your heart drop into your stomach. There she is, staring into you. Her eyes didn’t have their bright sparkle and she looked utterly exhausted even with all the makeup. Did she always put on so much? No, she hated caking it on. I really did a number on her didn’t I? Her usually bright smile is replaced with a grim look of…Anger? Concern? Pain? You don’t have enough time to read her before Lucifer makes his way back down the stairs. 

“She seems to need some time alone.” he announces as he makes his way back over to the shell of a woman standing before you. You watch as he pulls her flush with his body, greedy hands snaking up her sides. He mumbles something before placing his foul lips against her skin and disappearing into red ribbons. 

Her face mirrors your feelings of disgust at his touch. Did he force himself on her? I swear if he hurt - You catch yourself stepping towards her. Every ounce of your being longed to wrap her into your arms. Your heart begged to pour yourself into her, to remove every trace of Lucifer from her body. Her gaze meets yours again. You freeze. The pain behind the eyes that stared back at you made your knees nearly buckle. What is wrong with me… With a nod you slink into your shadow. I believe it’s time to visit someone who can help.

It was always a pleasure to be in Rosie’s presence. You can’t quite remember how you met but you knew she was easily your oldest, truest friend here in Hell. Usually you didn’t dally much about romance, her self-proclaimed specialty, but right now you could use any insight she could give. 

“Alastor! How I’ve missed seeing that dazzling smile of yours!” Rosie pulls you into her ever smothering hug,  “Come along, I was just getting some tea. Tell me, what do I owe the pleasure of such company?”

You remain quiet as you sit at the table to pour two cups of tea, smile faltering just enough to tell her something was very wrong. “Oh darlin’, what’s going on? I can’t recall a time you’ve looked so distressed.” It was strange hearing yourself try to explain these last few months. You’ve always made it a point to be very well spoken, years of broadcasting have ingrained it into your mind. But today you fumbled your words telling Rosie how you wound up in this position - with these…feelings.

“Oh my stars. I never thought this day would come.” She sits back in her chair in astonishment. Your ears perk up at her short response, “What do you mean dear?” Rosie leans back towards you, gently placing a hand atop yours, “Alastor darling, you’re in love!” 

An uneasy feeling washes over you. Your hand quickly retracts at the mention of that word. Love? What a ridiculous notion. It’s fruitless…unnecessary…weak…

Her face softens at your doubtful silence, “All of those moments, the desires, even the pain…it’s obvious you’ve fallen head over heels for that gal. She must be quite a charmer to get you this worked up!” she laughs giddily but you’re far from amused at this assumption. 

“Rosie dear, I’m not some hopeless romantic. I don't have the time nor the need for such frivolous things.” She frowns at your bitter denial. You can see she’s reeling, trying to find her next words. She stands up and begins pacing the room, still unable to conjure the right response. Your frustration grows as you try to reason with her, “Look, I just need to figure out how to be rid of this. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can barely think without her somehow worming her way into my mind.”

Her dark eyes snap to you, “You admit you want more than just a mutual partnership?”

“Well yes -”

She steps closer to you, “And you crave her presence, her touch, her voice?”

“Always but - “

“Do you desire a future with her and only her?”

Irritated, you try to answer once again, “At one point yes howev-”

“Alastor, do not deny yourself love just because you don’t fully understand it! It is not a weakness - no sir - it’s quite the contrary.” 

“Enough!” The table jolts beneath your now balled up fists, “What does it matter!? She loathes me! I set fire to her and burned any trust or feelings she could possibly have for me! I ran her off - straight into that imbecile's arms!” you snarl with a heavy static filling the air. 

A gentle hand rests on your shoulder. You look up at Rosie like a remorseful child, “She’d never believe me even if I told her…” you say softly. She squeezes your shoulder before returning to her chair and taking a sip from her cup. “Words are cheap, but actions, they speak for the truth. Don’t allow your pride to get in the way of what you could have.” Her tone turns sharp and concise, “Now, I know you and I know you’re not one to hold onto what ‘could have been’ or fret over past mistakes. But I’m telling you from experience, if you don’t at least try with this girl, you will regret it.” The words drive into you like a hot knife.

A heavy silence falls between you two while a battle rages in your mind. She’s never steered me wrong before, but how can she be so sure? She hasn’t even met this girl and she can already make these incredibly bold assumptions. You finish your tea and stand from the table. Walking over to Rosie’s chair, you bend down to peck her cheek with a quiet, “Thank you.” before stepping into your shadow to return to the hotel. 

In the past you’d have a drink or two to celebrate a victory or to get Mimzy off your case about ‘the good old days’, but tonight you wanted to be numb. “Another.” you demand, slamming the glass against the hotel bar. 

Husk cautiously pours more into your cup, “Uh boss, you doin’ alright?” Before he can finish his question your glass is empty and pounds the bar again, “Another!” you repeat. Husk couldn’t figure out if he should be amused or scared about your sudden change in demeanor. He pours you more, not daring to say no to the demon who owned his soul so tightly. 

You weren’t keeping count of how many drinks you managed to take into your body. Truthfully you didn’t care. The liquor was supposed to make the thoughts stop and numb everything but you found it only amplified with each glass. “Husker…Did - did you see him?” your speech might have been perfect but your mind was definitely beginning to blur. 

“See who?” Husk asked nervously looking around, wondering what strange delusions you might be seeing. 

You hiccup and laugh at his oblivious reaction, “That King…putting his hands all over her. He’s trying to take what is rightfully mine. He has no business touching her in such ways!” you growl as another hiccup leaves your chest. 

“Oh - uh yeah I saw that. She didn’t seem too happy about it either -”

“You’re damn right she wasn’t!” you shout louder than intended.

“Right…” Husk trails off, unsure of how to handle you in this new state of drunken anger, “Look, you don’t have to tell me but you’re definitely drinkin’ to forget something.” he says, trying to tread lightly. 

You signal for another drink while shaking your head in response to his question, “My dear Husker I - I think I’ve developed…feelings - “ The sudden sound of a bottle shattering makes you jump out of your chair. Looking over the bar you see Husker frantically cleaning up the bottle he dropped out of pure shock. 

He looks up at you, eyes wide with bewilderment, “Fuck sorry, I just thought I heard - feelings? What kind of feelings are we talkin?”

You slam another drink back, “Seeing him with her did something to me. It…hurt…It felt like a knife plunged into my chest.” If you were paying closer attention, you’d hear his snarky retort, “If only it was a real knife….” but you’re too preoccupied inside your own mind. Husk finishes cleaning the floor and leans against the bar, grabbing a new bottle and pouring you another without asking.

Why am I even talking with him? I didn’t think liquor could affect me so much down here. Ignoring instinct, you happily down another without wasting any time. The burn washes over your body and a peculiar sense of clarity suddenly hits, “I love that girl.” you say plainly, without a shimmer of doubt. 

Another bottle shatters against the floor along with the glasses Husk was starting to carry to the sink. “Fucking get it together Husker! Do you need gloves or something?! You’re wasting perfectly good rye!!! They would have had your head back in my day for such careless actions!” you shout at the now completely stunned bartender. He stares at you, eyes wider than saucers. Annoyed with the sudden lack of conversation from the demon - It is quite rude of him to just keep staring, I mean really - you slink away into your tower to be left with your thoughts. While you climb the stairs, you don’t bother looking back to see Husk’s mortified face as he mumbles frantically to himself, “What…in the actual fuck…just happened…I need a drink, wait no, I need ten drinks...and where the hell is Angel when you need him!?”

Your buzz begins to fade as you pace your tower, somehow causing everything to hit you tenfold. Rosie was right, I can’t deny this any longer. What am I going to do…hell what can I do? Why is this so hard to -

Three loud knocks reverberate through the tower. You still, not daring to give the person on the other side any clues as to if you were there or not. Please just go away, I don’t have the patience or clear mind for anyone right now. Your shadow tugs violently at your pant leg, signally the urgency of answering the door. You warily turn the knob and focus your eyes on the dimly lit woman in front of you. All the air leaves your lungs.

F-fuck…

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Chapter Thirteen: ‘One Thousand Apologies’ Bridgerton Au!Anakin

part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

a/n: this chapter is a pretty short one solely because it leads directly into the next chapter and if i where to combine them it’d 100% would of been way to long😭😭 anyways hope you huns enjoy Xx<3💋

apologizing to Anakin was one thing. it was easy especially after you’d both opened your hearts to one another, apologizing to Padme however was going to be a completely different thing. everything was going smooth thus far since Anakin’s confession that morning, but you were nervous. you knew Padme and you knew she’d forgive you but you had this overwhelming guilt. it was eating you alive as you waited for her to arrive for the day. you twist the ring on your finger becoming lost in your thoughts as you await her arrival. not even entirely sure of what you were going to say or how to start your apology.

as soon as she enters the tea room you’re on your feet. she freezes for a moment processing the fact that your actually acknowledging her existence before carefully continuing in, closing the doors behind her. there’s an awkward silence as you both stare at each other waiting for someone to make the first move. you almost wished you could just pretend as if everything was normal and although you knew if you did do that she’d go along with it, you also knew she deserved better.

she was your best friend and the distance you wedged between the two of you albeit one sided- needed to be addressed. you clear your throat and gesture to the chair beside you wordlessly asking her to take a seat, she takes the offer. silently walking over to you and sitting down, you pull another seat directly in front of her to join her. still you both remain silent for a moment as you struggle to find the words, reaching forward to take her hands into yours as she had done to you days ago when trying to offer you comfort.

“Padme…” you force yourself to keep eye contact as you start to speak, wanting to show your sincerity. “i am so sorry, what i did was wrong. i should not have ignored you the way i did, it was childish-” she cuts you off before you can finish your sentence “y/n, i am not mad at you” she looks at you with nothing but pure sympathy. “i know you aren’t mad but it doesn’t excuse my behavior” she shakes her head at you “you where hurting and reacted accordingly, yes it wasn’t the best way to go about it but i understood- i understand” she squeezes your hands reassuringly.

“please let me apologize, i know you understand but you must realize you did not have to do what you did- what you’ve done. you stick beside me even as i pushed you away, you didn’t give up on me even though i would of more than understood if you had.” she gives you a gentle smile, letting out a soft chuckle “y/n you forget our friendship is not one sided, nor is it fragile. i will always be here for you the same way i know you will be for me.” you feel your eyes begin to water and just as quickly you are pulled into her arms. “thank you for the apology i appreciate it” she adds not wanting to brush off what you where trying to do. you both indulge in the hug for a moment, staying in each others embrace before pulling away and smiling.

you both can’t help but laugh. it felt nice, therapeutic almost. “i think we may have more important matters to discuss now” she says with a smile, leaning back in her chair. “like what?” you snort, shifting in your own seat to get more comfortable. “well for starters who’s responsible for finally pulling you out of your own head, who should i be thanking for giving me my friend back?” she’s smiling as she asks, giving you a look that you could only assume meant she already knew.

to be fair it’s not like there where many options for people who’d speak out to you. “You and I both know you’ve already got an idea as to who it was” she laughs, turning her head to the side and gestures silently over to a few of the castle servants. they work quickly, moving the small table to where you both where sat. setting up a small tea party for you both, one of the servants pouring you both a cup of tea adding in milk and sugar to your likings. “of course i do but that doesn’t mean i don’t want to hear you say it” you can’t help but roll your eyes, bringing your cup of tea to your lips before taking a sip. she gives you a smug smile before mirroring your actions.

“what else did you want to discuss?” you ask curiously, she hums for a short moment as she thinks to herself. “we have to address the situation publicly…” you feel your heart sink, looking down into your tea cup to stare at the liquid in order to avoid eye contact. “you don’t have to do a announcement if that’s what your worried about- there are other ways we can go about this matter y/n” you take a deep breath, looking back up at her and placing your tea down. “i don’t have to do an announcement but if feels like i should, a murder and attempted one is not something that can just be so easily looked over”

“well there are ways you could do so indirectly” she quips perking your interest in an instant. “how so?” she places her own tea down now, sitting a bit straighter before she begins. “let’s start with the council members. forget an announcement, skip straight to punishing them and let the news come out in articles as it usually would. then simply replace them, business as usual. you’re the queen, the people already know what’s happened there so there’s no real need to address them in particular.” you nod carefully taking in her advice, tapping on the table beside you with one of your fingers as you think. “that leaves us with one thing”

“addressing your fathers murder and the attempted murder on Anakin” you nod letting out a sigh, leaning your head into your palm. “i don’t feel as if you have to address it head on. write a statement about what happened to your father and have it printed and released in the papers” you purse your lips in thought “but what about the attempt on Anakin’s life?” Padme goes silently, briefly contemplating what you could do to address it while also avoiding the spotlight. “maybe not a statement with words but a gesture, something to show you and him aren’t going anywhere nor are you scared. even though you are but they don’t need to know that.”

a gesture? what could you do to act as a gesture big enough to garner everyone’s attention whilst simultaneously showing there’s nothing to fear.

Anakin sat directly beside you, Listening carefully as you and Padme explained what you’d been discussing. you’d called him in for more than just coming up with an idea- actually you’d already figured out what you wanted to do the problem was you didn’t know how to execute it without his help.

“so you need help coming up with a gesture then?” he asks curiously running a hand through his hair as he thinks. “Yes-” “No-” you and Padme both speak at the same time, her turning to you in confusion when she hears you say no. you keep your attention on Anakin however as you speak “do you remember when we discussed the things you liked about your kingdom?” he blinks a few times processing your words as he thinks back through your conversations, the gears turning in his head. you watch as he visibly lights up once he realizes what you’re hinting at “The Races?”

“Yes!” you exclaim happily now turning to Padme to see if she was beginning to see where you were going with this. she seems more curious than anything, which to be fair you didn’t have horse races in Alderaan so it made sense it hadn’t clicked for her yet. “It’s a big event that brings together a lot of people. pretty much anyone can participate as long as they have a horse to ride” Anakin begins to explain the details behind the Tatooine tradition, happily reciting the rules and regulations.

“it’s the perfect thing that could unite the people and us, a public event for the Ton to participate in and if Anakin raced as well then it’d also serve as a way for us to show we aren’t afraid. let them know we’re with them. we could add a Ball as well, so that we can socialize and maybe give a brief statement?” you suggest the idea to the both of them, Anakin grows more excited at the mention of him being able to participate. Padme seems completely onboard as well, perking up at all the new info.

“i think this to be a wonderful idea, and in all honesty you could probably use the excitement of the whole event to sweep this under the rug. at the end of the day its up to you of course” you nod at her comment. there was a lot to think of and a lot to take care of if you wanted this to happen and for it to be successful. you couldn’t help the excitement that bubbled over all of the fear and doubts. Anakin seemed to be even more excited than you, tapping his foot against the ground ready to jump up at any moment.

“well for this to work we’d better get started now, i believe we have a letter to write.” you say with a smile as you turn to Anakin.

part 14

tag list: @luvvfromme @gatekeepingirlboss @bimbo-baggins86 @iluvanakinskywalker @bby-imasociopath @curlycarley @burnthecheshirewitch @misscaller06 @sweetcheesecakesblog

this chapter was a bit short but the next chapter is going to be very long ☝️ not to mention possibly a big milestone for reader and Anakin👀 it’s either going to happen in this next chapter or the one after 💪 but anyways love you all and i hope you love reader and Padmes friendship as much as me💋💋 oh and one more thing, i hope you guys haven’t forgotten about Barclay 🌝

EftD Chapter 11 – The Devil in Canterlot High Part 1

I’d just like to say. What the fuck.

Also, this commentary in particular had me doublebacking a lot, so I’m doing it acknowledging that I know the Chapter's end. Also I’m remembering so many actual terms for the literary devices used but alas, I’ll leave the accuracy be for the time being. Also I decided to break this one up so it’s not the tumblr equivalent of 17 Word Doc pages in a row.

Sunset Shimmer shivered from head to toe and couldn’t hide it even if she tried. And she tried. If she could at all avoid her friends seeing her like this, she would. It came in spasmodic spurts, with only seconds of control in between, starting from her legs or arms and rocking up to her core. She took in shallow, longing-to-be-deep breaths to steady herself, but, as if to rebel against her, her body didn’t listen.

First off, great start really sets the mood for the rest of the time Sunset’s going to be here. Absolutely dead-on with how it goes. The start and end of this chapter is mirrored. It’s right there in the title card. The big twist, I just didn’t see it. Even more obvious since we haven’t been seeing Sunset without something filtering her true feelings and self! But now, right there with that paragraph and the end of that first sentence – her body is rebelling against her, it didn’t listen. It can’t listen because it’s under Sombra’s control. Or soon will be.

It made her love them for trying—seriously, on a level she’d only thought possible recently—

AH!

Time spent with her favourite boys - even in totally-not-really-therapy-wink-wink - is working!

“... and I guess, I dunno, I just want to help so bad…”

GOODEST OF BOYS

He’s good. I think we’ll finally have this solved.”

I initially read this as “He’s good at being a therapist”, but I also like seeing how it could be interpreted as “He’s just genuinely a good guy”, which he is!

Flash stared at her for a second, the reels rewinding in his head almost so viscerally she could hear the sputtered squeal, and then he smiled. “Oh. I got third. They stumped me on the word castling because I thought it had an e in there somewhere, but I was super proud I could be so brave. My dad took me out for ice cream afterwards.”

A cutie mark origin story if there was one for this Flash! And just another thing to note. Even though Sunset genuinely seems cold, it’s also symbolic of her fear.

Sometimes the Princess would even let her sit on the throne.

;~;

Flash took that as a permission slip to start monologuing aloud about tactical breathing: in for 4, hold for 4, out for 4, hold for 4. Of course, the music nerd in him counted it out like a 2/4 time signature. He even performed a demonstration of what that might look like, breathing to a beat of his own making.

Ngl, a while back I started reading this chapter. Then some shit happened, and I had to drive alone for 2 hours. It was a very emotional drive, and my adrenaline had me much more awake than I needed, but my mind came back to this bit. Kept me calm and kept my driving safe. Thank you for this <3.

Sunset let him. She thought she’d managed this breathing thing pretty well on her own all these years, she didn’t need a How to Guide. While the shakes didn’t stop entirely, she managed to calm them down to a level she hoped wouldn’t be perceptible.

I’m glad Sunset did let him, instead of saying to his face that she didn’t need a how-to guide. They both sorta understand each other in this way. Flash literally just said he wants to help so bad, but Sunset also didn’t want to be perceived as not being okay. Much more didn’t want anyone to say it out loud. So, he’s helping by telling her how to breathe when you have nerves but not pointing out directly that she seems nervous. Saying things out loud just hits so much harder. Guess that’s part of the point of therapy!

The door hung open after her like the toothy maw of a basilisk salivating strands of venom and ready to devour a fresh victim whole.

Speaking of perception… she’s really not perceiving this as a good thing lol. Cold shaking, shaking in fear like a helpless little mouse. And an actual mouse. NOT a ‘Tiny Vermin’. There’s a reason that boss is up a level after the Bone Hydra.

And Sunset would have been happy to continue staring off into the middle-distance, unreachable, but then, Timber Spruce slapped his hands on his knees, got up from his chair, and said, “You know what? Why not? Let’s get magical. I’ve got a few things to say.”

Sunset looked up then to see Timber send her a tired smirk before disappearing.

Absolute shocker. And absolutely love the way Timber went about this. Sometimes you just gotta dive right into the deep end to get used to the water. And of course, seeing all your friends jump in and then come out fine and in a good mood and the like, and you’re all that more likely to cave to the pressure. Timber especially so since he likes to also feel part of the Rainbooms.

“Would you jump into the mouth of a basilisk if all your friends did?”

“Well, if they got out and the basilisk spit did wonders for their general complexion and confidence, then yeah I guess I would.”

What would he say about her in there? What were they talking about? Closing the portal won’t take long. Ray and Scruffles need me to bring them, I’d have to get them first. If I close the portal, is that it? Could anyone open it again? Would the connection be severed? Would the crack in the sky disappear? What happens here when it’s gone?

She’s still on that?! Not even her girlfriend could convince her otherwise?!

Sunset knew with a cold certainty from her lectures and studies on the Roots of Magic that there was always a source. An origin, a cause.

I do not like that this certainty in particular is cold. Especially not with all the other ‘cold’ things going on. Also, I bet the origin is that damn horse statue in front of City Hall!

…(similar to the human economy, Sunset Shimmer understood little to nothing of human geography—and now she likely never would) ...

As a human geographer who also happens to be human, I find this very humourous. I do NOT recommend searching what I mean, it’s a rabbit hole of confusion and questioning as to geography’s place in academia (but fuck almost all of those Ivy League Universities, you know what university DOES include Geography among one of its VERY FEW master’s and doctorate programs? THE UNITED NATIONS UNIVERSITY! Guess actually helping people across the world through an interdisciplinary approach towards natural disasters under a changing climate isn't top of mind for them. Yes I'm bitter.)

Also would be funny if Sunset pursued geography as a result of going to NR (which apparently was important to military officer training in WW2).

This also makes the idea of “significant places of sorcery and love” especially interesting to me as a human geographer. We look into the human relationship with space, which we end up calling “place’. We assign value to it when we have this relationship, including emotional value. But these places can have different identities and values depending on the who its relating to.

What goes into those places of sorcery and love? If we think back to the Perfect Pear in the pony episodes, that is an example of assigning emotional value to a place. A place of love, where sorcery emerged, where these powerful interactions of two lovers, forbidden to be with each other but still so committed to being there anyway that they develop a place that was unique to them. But is there any place we’ve seen that could be classified as such in the human realm? Nightfall Reach certainly seems old, perhaps old enough to be classified so. And with Friendship being a core tenet, maybe there’s something there.

There’s likely something around Canterlot High, and that statue. Clearly the statue itself is imbued with magic. But did anything with strong enough love or sorcery exist in that space before the school did? Did it have to? So many relationships made, broken, by so many students coming in and out of that place, connected to a mirror. What other value might have been assigned here, and by whom?

In a small, cold place, she almost found herself excited for them. You go, girls. You’re going to be amazing.

OOF

She didn’t so much as say a word to her girlfriend or Flash before Timber appeared in front of her, hand outstretched.

Damn, I can’t even imagine what Twilight must be thinking after all that. It’s even worse knowing the first conversation after this will be through Sombra.

Sunset flinched and looked to her girlfriend, who sat beside her and, at some point, had taken Sunset’s hand, maybe to steady it. The little circles she revolved with her thumb stopped short.

Awwwwww!

Well she didn’t really mention much of the shakes since around the time Twilight came out, save for when Timber went in.

Solstice emerged from the office and his eyes billowed a ghastly gas-like steam. The crackle of it startled Flash in particular who ripped out of his seat, but neither Twilight nor Timber reacted.

Okay so, a bit of a development! Totally not at all concerning. Also totally not concerning that Twi and Tim are not concerned. sweats

Solstice waited for her like the ferryman at the perilous banks of the River Styx, lantern and steady smile at the ready.

Mouth of Styx starts playing

Sunset walking into hell, to face Hades himself.

Heart walloping against the confines of her ribcage, Sunset had to admit comfortable sounded so nice. Trying to stabilize one of her clammy hands with its partner, she nodded, mumbling, “Yeah, okay. Sure.”

Wow, really missing Twi’s hand, huh?

That made him smile, teeth pale like a full-moon in the shadow of night. Combined with his still demonically slitted eyes, Sunset fought the thought that Solstice looked almost animalistic and focused instead on the gentleness of his voice. “You can zip up your jacket, my dear, I don’t want you to freeze.”

Aaaahhh! Very werewolf-like. Indeed. I can see it be an apt metaphor for Solstice and his condition. The style and grace of the Sombra persona feeling more like a vampire, but the challenge of having something deep inside of you changing and turning you into a monster is something all too familiar for Sunset. The human realm has its own myths and legends, but she likely experienced so many of those myths made real back in Equestria. And, having dressed up like one for Halloween partly being the reason for her perceiving him this way. Or maybe its more of a Jekyll and Hyde thing.

“Tcht. No, see, I’d be offended. It’s kind of my look, so...” She gestured down to her open leather jacket in open rebellion.

Sunset’s willing to freeze before changing her look? Rarity will be so proud. Or disappointed since she could probably make it still warm while being fashionable.

Still, it’s a nice touch – Sunset’s here in her first counselling appointment, where it’s supposed to be a safe space to let yourself be comfortable enough to be honest with yourself and your feelings and the like. Where you can take off that figurative armour, literal in the case of Sunset and her rebellious identity, also being rebellious to the idea of counselling.

“Oh! Yes, that has to be frightfully frigid.”

I don’t like the implied tone here. Yes, the weather inside is frightful, but the other side of Sombra is so very much ALSO frightful. Maybe though, the fire inside that Solstice sets for the students’ souls will be so delightful.

She drank him in in full. It helped her own nerves to see the big bad opponent she was up against wore loafers like he was late for church service, wore his button-down not quite tucked into his belted slacks, and smelled like a coffee shop if it also used a wood stove. “Huh. You actually can’t feel cold?”

The BIG BAD… Churchgoer? More like wolf in sheep’s clothing. With Solstice being like that, it must’ve done both Flash and Timber a lot of good. A safe haven in a cold cold blizzard who emanates the woodsy-ness the latter likes, but speaks so very kindly, as the former would appreciate.

“Heaven knows the central heating could use an upgrade with me around to challenge it, but well. Public school.”

Okay so they can afford the special sports stuff but not heating?! I well… yeah no, that tracks.

But Solstice caught that. “Really, are you sure about your jacket? I wouldn’t want you to catch a cold in my office, I’d never forgive myself.” Sunset’s eyes went for a spin. “Think I’ll find a way to survive your office.”

laughing nervously

Solstice paused long enough to stare at her jacket’s zipper, as if tempted to zip it up himself. If he had telepathy or the sheer force of will, all bets might have been off. With the steam still billowing off his demonic eyes, he looked much angrier about it than he probably actually was. Or maybe it really did vex him that much, Sunset couldn’t say.

Combining the concerned pseudo-parent and rebellious teenager is a recipe for a glorious disaster named Sombra as he feeds on the anger from feeling a lack of control (or what I thought was anger, but is actually fear for her well-being).

Either way, he moved toward the kettle and basket of cookies. “Alright, it’s your decision. But speaking of dire choices: Can I at least get you anything? A hot beverage to keep warm?

Nothing like a hot beverage! Although I think that there should be a better word to define hot beverages than just “hot beverage”. I’ve been trying to get “café drinks” going here and there, but in this day and age? That can mean anything.

Sunset doubted the school counsellor would readily give her access to the type of beverage she really wanted to get through this. Fire down the throat always kept her warm, in a manner of speaking (especially if it was Nectar of the Gods, Sunset’s favourite Equestrian liquor; she’d never forget sneaking her first taste from the pools of Mount Olympus while on diplomatic missions with the Princess. Good times). She shifted on the plump couch cushion. “Tea’s good, if you have any. Camelmile?”

Who wouldn't want some Nectar of the Gods? I'm sure there'll be some at the coronation.

Whenever Sunset had an upset stomach⁠—her codeword for nervousness or feeling upset, honestly⁠—as a filly, Princess Celestia brewed her excellent tea. Trottingham chai, Zebrafrican rooibos, even a nice Griffonstonian oolong after a long day. It got to the point the sound of the kettle boiling in the hearth was enough to ease any irritation.

Just like 'mom' used to make~

Nodding, Solstice smiled around his own shoulder, back at her, setting up the mugs, not unlike a bartender.

Ah yes, the bartender, discount therapist!

His little wooden stirring stick whisked the cup in an erratic fashion. “Warping the minds of the youth with their overpriced... cake coffee. Oh, it sounds delicious, but what you’ve really gone and done is ruined a perfectly good pot of coffee and convinced swarms of innocent teenagers they’ve bought themselves a luxury item!”

He grumbled more into his own mug as he sipped to avoid an overflow before realizing; he swallowed his mutterings down with his coffee. “I have… a lot of feelings about beverages. Wine especially. But I suppose the point was that it’s nice to know I’m not the only ex-career student here.”

Recently I’ve come to appreciate whisky. I enjoyed it before, sure, but now I understand that among the connoisseurs, the best whisky is the one you like, and that includes whiskey ;)

But that does bring me to another observation – Sunset mentioned alcohol in her head before Solstice said it out loud. Foreshadowing about getting in her head? Or is it another point about how much they actually have in common?

It’s wild seeing how much coffee has really taken off though. I see a lot of similarities between wine and coffee connoisseurs. The sheer difference in variety of tastes based on where it’s grown and the conditions that gave rise to it – it’s terroir - and how it’s processed or even what you add to it in each minuscule amount.

Each student technically is a product of their own terroir. Even though the students are all different, they’re also similar in so many ways – that’s why they can empathize with each other despite those different experiences. But of course, with a unique terroir, it’ll get harder and harder to have an accurate read on knowing how someone else is feeling. As a geographer once said, "everything is related to everything else, but near things are more related than distant things." People who grew up in one place have much more in common than someone from a different place depending on what's available to them: the culture there, foods available, cost of things in the community, etc. But the processing of the coffee bean or the wine changes that too! As it goes through its life cycle, it started out somewhere, like all its neighbours, but slowly changed along the way as new experiences shaped it, and shaped the person.

And that’s why its important for someone like Solstice to be there. He talks to them and gets into the finer notes and details of people, even with the added sugar. His comment about cake coffee makes me believe he dislikes it because he dislikes how the uniqueness of each cup getting drowned out and taken away by fads among teens, making it harder for them to be open and honest with each other if all they're concerned with is the fad. Cause if you're not open and honest, how can you have an open and honest relationship with one another? With Sunset’s “look”, she’s dressed up like a mocha and refuses to let him or anyone else really know the core of what’s there. All that sugar added drowns out what makes everyone unique and beautiful in their own way. Unless you're a coffee connoisseur among coffee connoisseurs.

That and he's worried about them being manipulated.

“That’s true. I apologize. I don’t know. Call it an educated guess, then,” he told her, carrying over her mug. “Maturity is usually hard-won, much like degrees and education. Or forgiveness.” Solstice offered a smile as he gave her the drink. “Your friends speak very highly of you, Sunset. Your story is something of a legend around here. You are.”

Well at least Sunset has the forgiveness thing under her belt. The former she could get no problem! Just gotta figure out what that will be.

 “…I don’t do well with heights, not a fan.”

I anticipate foreshadowing here.

Would it be dramatic to say I’ve got a fear phobia? Sunset thought. “I’ve got a fear phobia. Only thing I fear is fear itself, you know? So if you’re wondering about your eyes, it’s cool, don’t worry about it. I’m not afraid of you.”

Sombra likes to be dramatic and uses fear as his primary weapon. If he’s not fear itself, then I don’t know what is for ya, Sunny.

“I’ll do my best to help you achieve that, then.” Solstice handed her a waiver of some sort, complete with clipboard and pen. “Everything you say here is completely confidential. The only exceptions to that are if I’m required to disclose case-relevant details in a court of law, or, and this is important, if you pose an immediate danger to yourself or others. At which point, I would contact the proper authorities for safety reasons.”

…

The authorities? Celestia, Flash’s dad would kill me if he knew I planned to leave Flash behind again. If Chief Magnus murders me, Flash might find out I’m leaving and try to stop me. “No.”

Including this part so specifically, leads me to believe the reason is twofold:

1. Our most glorious author, Marvel Prime, is presenting the reader with an accurate portrayal of the processes of going to therapy, based on her own knowledge and experience. This in turn, is also useful to anyone reading this in terms of knowing what to expect if they go in.

2. Foreshadowing. The callback back to good ol Detective Daddy-o, Flash Magnus, who probably has a case on her, and just needs a little bit more to bring it to court. The other element of “this is important”, is not just for her, but for the reader to remember. Because she gets body swapped again, she will ultimately pose said immediate danger to herself and others. Also, who knows if “proper authorities” can actually mean Princess Twilight and the crew bringing in some magic-ass kickin’. Seems like the proper authority to me.

Not that she had any plans on re-terrorizing the school or putting everyone’s lives in danger, but Sunset could almost hear the cell-doors clanking shut in front of her.

Wonderfully brought together with the art right in this section too! The shadow of the blinds making it look all too much like cell-doors. Signing her name? Signing her confession…. DUN DUN DUUUN.

“Oh-ho, no. Nope. We’re not doing this, no,” Sunset said, arms barred across her chest like a luxurious stay at the Tartarus Juvenile Detention Centre. “I’m not here to talk about me, I’m here to help my friends change back.”

And prison references continue! It all comes back together. All the Greek mythology references, combined with the justice system, coming together into that – the Tartarus Juvenile Detention Centre being the reason for the references and how this all feels, that she’s ultimately a bad friend and bad person, even if she’s not going to terrorize the school again not that she’ll have any say in that though. But also this whole thing could just be in of itself another way to foreshadow just that. Either way, she’s venturing through Hades to save her friends, but is willing to stay there if it means making things right.

Y’know it also kinda feels like Solstice is gonna pull out the ol’ Rorschach tests.

“Tell me what you see?”

Sunset proceeds to see either her kissing Twi, her strangling Timber, or Celestia disappointed in her.

Arms crossed. Sunset took in air just to sigh it back out like sand dragged back into the sea.

AND IT STILL MAKES YOUR FEET GRAINY. THERE’S ALWAYS A LIL BIT LEFT BEHIND IN YOUR SANDAL.

And a stop to say it’s lovely seeing this second picture right after. Solstice just across from the ‘imprisoned’ Sunset, showing the source of the cell-door imagery. Again, I’m no artist, but I feel like there’s a number of contrasts and comparisons to be seen here.

First, I’ll admit I don’t know what that thing is in the right side of the first pic and left side of the second pic. BUT It does connect the two – the way its coloured and the angle it’s on.

Second, the difference in line styling with each picture – the one feat. Sunset is softer, more rounded, wavy, especially when the shadow-prison-bars hit Sunset herself. Notably, the only parts of Solstice that are rounded are the two that are most influenced by Sombra.

Third, the way these two come together. It’s literally shadow prison bars. AND that’s what curves around Sunset. Her tea’s steam curves and is reminiscent of her hair, but curves towards Solstice. The parts of Solstice influenced by Sombra are his hair and his breath. They’re mimicking her – again a sort of foreshadowing, and also almost soul-like (yes I'm thinking Danny Phantom). Oh yeah also it’s like, half his face literally covered in shadow too. But not just any shadow, a shadow that reflects the Yin-Yang symbol – the darkness in the light, and the light in the darkness.

“Yes, precisely!” He leaned forward to the edge of his seat. “But the exact effect is dependent on you! Anyone can feel love for their friends, or joy, anger, fear—really, I believe you’re right, the intensity of your emotions correlates to the intensity of your magic. But if the power comes from you directly, it’s also my belief that exactly how it manifests is related to your individual psychology. Who you are, what those emotions mean to you personally.”

Okay, don’t like how he ended on fear there. Can’t take this fore-shadow-ing.

If Solstice’s individual personality affects how his magic manifests, does that mean his initial fear, perhaps fear of his father, helped make it what it is now? Would his guilt manifest differently, since that seems to be strong with him? Or maybe guilt is simply the aftermath of fear having been realized.

A stupid giggle bubbled to the surface. “I’ve had theories for years,” Solstice near-squealed, his eyes flickering back to their regular green, if only momentarily, and back again. “It wasn’t until I came here to help you students that I had any way of observing other samples besides myself! And the most marvelous part is I may have guided the students towards the answers, but they’re the ones to figure it out! And now they can learn to harness those powers for good! Emotional therapy meets magical theory!”

And here we see an example of it all playing out. Sunset mentioned acting as your true self as a form of creating strong emotions – and Solstice is no longer acting. He’s never had the chance to actually be his true self until an opportunity like this presented itself. He’s always had to act on stage, act a certain way in front of his dad, find this niche interest and be unable to share it, and he’s had to act like everything’s okay in order to not induce anxiety in anyone else, which would make him feel worse. He’s had to filter and mute himself. And thus, him acting as his true self allows him to regain control of his whole, true self back from Sombra. Allows him to be powered by magic through something stronger than fear. For now.

And that's the end of Part 1 of this chapter's commentary!

Dave and Old Sport Adopt a Kid: Chapter 2

Hello, fellow weirdos (affectionate)! Have a part 2 to this sweet nonsense <3

As always, full text under the cut and link to Chapter 1 right here! :)

Chapter 2

Left alone in the Saferoom, Jack decided to leave and spend the rest of the day productively scrounging for tokens and mattresses in the main dining area. But while he did so, he simply couldn’t avoid glancing at Dave with his new friend across the room.

What on earth got into him?

It was all strange to Jack who had never even considered Dave having this kind of side to him. After all, he’s the one that roped Jack into killing kids with him in the first place.

In the distance, he saw Dave set down the girl–he refused to acknowledge Dave’s awful name for her–back onto the ground. Sighing to himself, Jack continued checking under dining tables.

“Alright, kid, pick out a shirt ya like.”

He then turned to one of the few people that unnerved him.

“…‘Sup, Matt.”

“Oh hello there, David.”

“Bang any chicks lately?”

“I can’t feel my face.”

“Yeah thanks for that. Got any shirts that aren’t these Toy fuckbrains?”

“Not anymore.”

“But the old Bonnie was just out earlier!”

“Those old things always escape the back. It’s these Toy guys or nothing.”

“Gross. Well, which one d’ya want? But the duck’s off limits.”

She didn’t hear his question as she was focused on looking at all the prizes.

“Pruny?”

Dave tapped her shoulder which startled her.

“Which o’ those shirts y’want?”

“Either way, they’re 150 tokens a pop.”

“You're fuckin’ with me! The hell is this inflation!? They were only 80 back in Colorado!”

“We’re in California. 150 a pop.”

“Yeah, well I’m half a mind to speak t’ your manager about your little firework shindig. 10 tokens. Final offer.”

Dave heard an all-too-familiar click from the other side of the counter.

“I see. So that’s how it is then.”

The gun had emerged from hiding to be pointed at his face by the time he finished his sentence. He could hear a scared whimper at his side as he stared down the barrel unflinching.

“That’ll be 150 tokens, dead or alive.”

He stood still, staring sternly back at Matt. But then he suddenly turned his eyes to his left.

“Y’seein’ this shit, Scott?”

“S-Scott-?”

With just the slightest falter, Dave easily yanked the gun out of his hand before Matt could even ascertain that their manager was nowhere nearby.

“Teh, well that was easy!” he said as proudly gave the pistol in his hand a Western styled twirl.

“Now I don’t even have to pay a single token, now do I, Matt?”

“–DAVE, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!?”

They both turned their heads to see their orange coworker running toward them from across the dining room.

“Oh, hey Sportsy!”

As Jack arrived, he hunched over panting from the adrenaline, leg suddenly hugged by a scared Pruny.

“What's going on here!? Why do you have a gun!?”

“Ah, relax, the threat’s been dealt with, and Matt was just gettin’ me a Spring Bonnie shirt for the kid!”

“That doesn’t even exist.”

“Ah, well that’s a shame for you, ‘cause I won’t stand for anything less.”

“Gimme that!”

Jack promptly ripped the gun from Dave’s hand and tossed it behind him.

“What the hell were you thinking!? I look over, and suddenly I see you twirling a gun in front of her!? The hell were you doing in front of her!?”

“Oh come off it, yell at Matt for pullin' the gun on me in the first–”

"She's terrified-!"

“Who wants to tell me who threw this gun at me!?”

The four turned their attention to a disgruntled Phone Guy holding up a pistol by the barrel.

“That would be the scary orange guy, sir.”

“Wh–”

“Come with me, employee.”

“What–!?”

As Jack was dragged off by Phone Guy, Dave turned his attention back to his current adversary. But Pruny found herself torn between whether she should follow the Orange Guy or stay by the currently arguing Purple Guy.

“Alright ye fuckin’ virgin, now gimme a shirt already, I don’t care which!”

“150 tokens.”

“You motherfucking– How ‘bout a nice, pretty knife to the throat instead, bozo?”

“Knives? I’ll give you 15 tokens for those.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“...This is the SECOND time I’ve seen you with a weapon today, employee! Don’t tell me the gun was for errands too!?”

“The gun wasn’t even mine! It was Matt’s apparently!”

“What do you mean, ‘apparently’?”

“I dunno, that’s what D–” He stopped himself from accidentally snitching.

“–what Dave said, wasn’t it?” Scott sighed. “And he has a kid!?

Look employee, I don’t have the time or energy to play detective with you, can I just give you a warning and then we both move on��”

But he interrupted himself upon noticing a third person was also here. Jack looked beside him where Scott was suddenly staring–

“Pruny? What’re you doing here–”

“‘P-Pruny?’”

Jack cursed himself for blurting out that stupid name. Neither of them had noticed her following behind them.

“Employee… don’t tell me she’s… yours and Dave’s–”

“...OH– dear god, no-”

“Oh thank God.…Is she r-really Dave’s– I mean the skin, but… how–”

Jack thought of reassuring Scott with the truth, but he knew Dave would bitch at him for it later.

“I have no idea, Scott…” he fakely yet sincerely sympathized.

(Chapter 3) ->

The crossover squad. Chapter 1 part 6: I'M TRULY A GUY NOW?!?!

"Seriously, what happened because your starting to..." Sketch's voice trailed off as he first noted his voice, it was best to describe it as more, masculine. In fact, as he looked down, he focused more on the fact that his chest was now flat(ish) rather than that his skin was dark grey.

His shirt was loose, his chest was hairy, his arms doubled and had tore out of his shirt, he clearly could feel he had a tail pushing against his pants among other things that told him one thing primarily.

He was finally a man.

'"It appears that the machine has had a malfunction." The womans voice elevated above the crowd.

"The only guaranteed thing that shouldn't change about you would have been your sex so I apologise for this mix-up. Fortunately, we have plenty of machinery to sort this out. You'll be back to your.. lovely feminine form in..."

"I AM FINALLY A MAN!!"

The exited cheer of the now demonic man cut the stern woman off. The entire group looked up to gaze as sketch ... celebrated. How unexpected. After all, didn't she he just switch genders?

Meanwhile, Sketch himself was in ecstasy. This was all he ever wanted, to be truly, physically male. He hugged himself, not listening or even paying attention to anyone else because this was his moment. This is HIS body. He, his, himself.

The lady just looked at her clipboard and began to write down some script, likely a confirmation of the procedure. "Tsk, you're just reacting this way because of the machine. It's causing you severe confusion. You'll thank me when.."

"I think you should leave it." Corey cut her of mid sentence, pushing her clipboard away from her face. "He's clearly loving that new look, leave him be. I mean, we don't wanna risk him turning out miserable from losing the body he clearly loves."

The lady scoffed but let it go as Corey made his way to the machine, now that it was his turn.

As Corey passed sketch, he gave him a thumbs up and said "glad you like the new look man" before stepping into the open doors of the machine.

Sketch was happy at Corey's words. Both the acknowledgement of his enjoyment of his form (for he heard the lady's words) and his use of the word "man." Gender affirmation for a transgender is always really apriciated.

As the machine once again sputtered and shook, twisting the third young mans form, sketch walked back towards the group of people he came into this weird world with. But now...

He didn't mind one bit.

The Earth is Online Chapter 15.1

(Under cut to prevent spoilers.)

“Your first words were, ‘I am also not a stowaway.’ This sentence is saying, ‘the previous person and I are the same. Neither of us are stowaways.’”

The young woman’s whole face was covered in tears. She unceasingly shook her head in denial.

Tang Mo said, “According to the current situation, without a doubt, the probability of me being a stowaway is the lowest. Next is him, then him.” He pointed one by one to Li Bin and Luo Fengcheng.

He raised his head. “However, there’s no person we can be certain definitely isn’t a stowaway. There’s also a possibility that I’m a stowaway. But your first words just acknowledged that the chef who spoke before you isn’t a stowaway. The one who knows for sure that the chef isn’t a stowaway is only the stowaway themself.”

The young woman’s body shivered and she didn’t stop wiping her tears, but now there was no one who would again dare to approach and console her.

No matter how weak her outward appearance was, she had been a murderer all along.

Li Bin also sharply nodded. “That’s right. When I heard you say what you said, I felt that there was something fishy. Regarding what happened during those three days, you remember it the clearest and can even declare specific times. You definitely made up this lie early on to be able to make such a smooth declaration.”

This point was very obvious. As soon as Li Bin pointed it out, Li Wen and the other two with him [1] were all suddenly illuminated.

“So it’s like this! You’re definitely a stowaway. Such a small child can really go as far as killing someone? That’s too awful.”

The young woman was still working hard to make excuses. “I haven’t…” But after wailing a few sentences, she seemed to also feel she couldn’t make people believe her again, and gave up struggling. She didn’t speak again and only continued to weep.

Paying no attention to the cook’s lament, Tang Mo said, “Mr. Luo, do you think this guess is correct?”

Luo Fengcheng had always been standing at the side not speaking. When Tang Mo suddenly steered the topic in his direction, he only rhetorically asked, “Do we now still have to guess who the stowaway is? You don’t need to mention other clues. These two points are already enough to prove who the stowaway is. It’s just that I’m quite curious… Who did you kill?”

Everyone’s gazes all turned to the young woman.

No matter how many tears there are, they will eventually run dry, but people’s fears won’t disappear.

In the corner of the underground cavern, the big mole rustled as it dug, whistling a sharp, mocking tune. It took out a piece of bloody meat from who knows where and chewed on it with its big mouth, its tiny eyes surreptitiously looking at the seven people. The young woman fearfully shivered, unable to cry anymore. She looked to Lin Qiao in search of help. Lin Qiao was still soft-hearted and couldn’t bear it, turning her head so that she wasn’t looking at the young woman. What the eye doesn’t see, the heart doesn’t grieve. [2]

After a good long time, a hoarse voice softly sounded.

“You have all decided that I’m a stowaway? Yes, I killed him. But that can’t be considered murder. It absolutely can’t!” The young woman lowered her head. No one could have imagined that the young woman whose voice was ice cold like steel was the one who had just now been weeping pitifully. She raised her head. “Can that be considered murder? I gave him life!”

The voice of one who had been forced into desperate straits resonated in the cave, shrill and ear-piercing.

At this time, many of them remembered. This young woman seemed very thin and weak and her expression was also very bad, but just because she looks petite doesn’t mean she was an ignorant child. She wasn’t little. **[3]**

Tang Mo frowned in astonishment. This answer completely went beyond his expectations. Without waiting for him to speak, Luo Fengcheng already said, “You didn’t eliminate your parents?”

A mournful, helpless expression flitted across the young woman’s face. “How can I eliminate my mom and dad? They’re so good to me. The one I eliminated…it’s that thing that shouldn’t have been born!”

Her answer was abundantly clear. This time, even the cook, who was the least clever of them, understood.

The young woman said in an ice-cold tone, “You all say that I lied, but it can’t actually be called lying. I didn’t need to make up those words, because for the past three months, I’ve lived this kind of life. I was cheated by a scumbag and accidentally became pregnant. The doctor said it had been more than seven months and I couldn’t have an abortion. It was very possible that if I did, I wouldn’t be able to have children again afterward, and my life might even be in danger. I absolutely didn’t want that child. But my mom said she didn’t want me to regret it afterward and also didn’t want me to take that kind of risk. The child would be raised by them. They had me give birth to that thing.”

The young woman raised her tear-stained face, her line of sight sweeping past each and every person.

“I’m not as smart as you and I don’t have any use to you, but I only want to live well. To live my life. During those three days, I was hospitalized. On the evening of the second day, I gave birth to that thing.”

Tang Mo’s eyes flashed.

Actually, in the young woman’s words, there had been another two obvious gaps.

One of those was that she said her mom didn’t care about the Black Tower problem. If her mom really didn’t fear the Black Tower, why did she say, on the evening of the second day, that phrase, ‘don’t be afraid?’ What was there to fear from the Black Tower?

This was a contradiction from beginning to end.

Tang Mo initially thought the young woman was lying and not doing a good job of it. Now it seemed that this phrase, ‘don’t be afraid,’ was said so that she would be unafraid and do her best to give birth to the child. No matter what happened later, don’t be afraid of any of it.

“So long as you’re good, I’ll be fine.” This was her mom that, as a mother, she would spare no effort to protect her child. She wouldn’t let her child land in desperate straits.

The young woman’s expression was vicious but her eyes still flashed with a thread of regret and reluctance. Her tone was resolute. “That evening, he was crying. I couldn’t sleep and couldn’t stand it… I eliminated him. He absolutely shouldn’t exist!”

Lin Qiao couldn’t help but say, “You didn’t have to give him life, but you gave him life. He had the right to live.”

“He was going to ruin my life! I’m not even married!” [4] The young woman’s eyes saddened and turned red.

Tang Mo flatly said, “He was just born.”

The young woman suddenly choked and silently lowered her head, not speaking again.

This truth was different from what Tang Mo had imagined. He originally thought the young woman had killed someone by accident, most probably her parents. Because she was barely an adult and was too naive, she wasn’t burdened with the feeling that she had killed someone, and all the things she’d said were lies. The truth was that she detested that child, so even when she was exposed, she completely lacked remorse or panic.

The cook excitedly wrung his hands. “So we found the stowaway, right? We don’t need to die, right? That big mole wants her, not us.”

These words were a bit unpleasant. Li Bin knit his brows. “En, she already admitted that she’s a stowaway.”

Tang Mo said, “What is your ability? Stowaways and official players are the same. They all definitely have abilities.”

The young woman had previously almost been grabbed by the big mole to be eaten up and she hadn’t displayed her ability.

Tang Mo thought about it and said, “Does it have something to do with that flashlight?”

The young woman wiped the tears on her face. “You want to know what my ability is?”

Not only Tang Mo, Luo Fengcheng also said, “It should have something to do with the flashlight.”

The young woman clenched her fingers and suddenly gave a strange laugh. “Yes, I’m a stowaway. You want to deliver me to that mole? My mom died, my dad died, I also have to die…don’t any of you think about living either!”

In an instant, a huge match appeared in the young woman’s palm.

It might be because she had just given birth, but even though she had an ability and her constitution had increased, she was still very short and thin. The match was practically half as tall as her. She brandished the big match and rushed toward everyone, first charging at the cook who had just then taken delight in her misfortune and wanted her to go die.

“I’ll kill you! If I die, don’t even think about living!!!”

[PREV] [TOC] [NEXT]

Important footnotes this time please read them!!!!! Scroll down to **[3]** and beyond if you don't want to read anything else.

Half a chapter this week and next week. Potentially the next two weeks as well. Unfortunately, I work in retail and it's the holiday season (among other things). I just don't have the energy to do a full chapter each week at the moment. ):

Character Refresher:

Li Bin (李彬), 29, male, works at a PR firm.

Peng Yu Wen (彭玉雯), 18, female, first year of university. Small, looks like a junior high student.

Tang Mo (唐陌), 23, male, librarian. Our protagonist! :D

Li Wen (黎文), 25, male, unemployed. A foolishly sweet second generation who plays around with female celebrities!?!?

Lin Qiao (林巧), 20, female, university student, Gamer.

Zhao Xiang (赵翔), 32, male, former chef.

Luo Fengcheng (洛风城), 28, Black Tower researcher, wears glasses and looks refined.

Uncle Mole (鼹鼠叔叔), a cute mole who is eating melon seeds meat and wishing a Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate! ^_^

Translation Notes:

[1] 黎文三人 - lit. Li Wen’s three people, i.e. the group of three people headed by Li Wen. This should be referring to Lin Qiao and the cook.

[2] 眼不见为净 - lit. what’s unseen is clean

(jk Lin Qiao's too nice for that)

**[3]** This is an important translation note so I put asterisks next to it. Comparing this paragraph to the original online text cleared up a lot of things that were confusing me about this whole arc both because of the text itself and my memories of reading TEIO the first time. It felt weird to me that the published version kept referring to her as a little girl even though she’s eighteen and only two years younger than Lin Qiao. The text also kept calling her a junior high student and Luo Fengcheng even implies that her lack of reaction stems from her innocence as a child. Can an eighteen year old university student still be called an ignorant child who doesn’t understand what murder is?? I also remember being way less suspicious of her the first time I read the novel and I like to think I’m at least a LITTLE bit harder to trick…

However!!!!!

It turns out that she’s eighteen in the print version and was fifteen in the original text. This makes the entire way she’s viewed by the other characters and spoken about by the narrator make way way way more sense. I intend to go back and edit the ‘young woman’s into ‘little girl’s to preserve the author’s original intention. I haven’t decided whether I’ll go back and alter the age back to the original yet. Feel free to comment if you have an opinion. I think it’s pretty obvious that this change was made due to censorship (the reasons for which should become clear in the rest of this chapter) and not as a late stage edit by the author to better suit the text. 

[4] Just reiterating the above footnote by saying that her original response is that her life would be ruined because she is only fifteen. This also makes Tang Mo’s following retort make a lot more sense. “Maybe you are only fifteen, but he was just born.” <- is the original subtext.

[further footnote] There are additional changes throughout this part of the text that really bring home the point about her age. For example, when the official print version says 'she's barely an adult' the original text says that fifteen isn't that young and that she's almost an adult. There are also additional details about her relationship with the father of the child and his responsibility in the situation. Also, rather than the way the print version insists on referring to her actions as 'elimination,' she directly says she smothered the baby with a pillow. :|

So...uh...

See you next week!

The Stark Legacy (6)

Memorial, part of Book 1: Reality (see previous or series)

Summary: The anniversary of Pepper's accident puts pressure on Tony to return to real life.

Warnings: grief, bad coping, Tony thinks he knows best but doesn't. Rated Teen/Mature, so 15+ only, please!

CHAPTER SIX—May 2036

Tony adjusted his suit as he stepped out of the limousine. He made no acknowledgment of the press and flashing lights; this was not that kind of occasion. He shook hands with the mayor, the governor, and the landscape architect. Natasha, Bruce, Wanda, and Bucky followed, all filing behind a nervous intern leading them to the platform set up on the grounds for the ceremony. Maria Hill was already behind the podium onstage. She began as everyone took their places.

“Good afternoon. Thank you all for coming today as we officially open the Memorial Garden on this, the eleventh anniversary of the tragic explosion on this very spot. We are here to honor the lives of the sixty-eight men and women who perished, and to celebrate the beauty of the natural world that continues on for those left behind after this devastating accident—,” Maria read from her papers, head lowered.

Tony met Happy Hogan’s eye from the security chief’s position off-stage. Happy gave the slightest nod, gently tapping at his royal blue pocket square: Pepper’s color. Tony faced front again, sniffed, and pushed up his sunglasses. He shifted his stance and returned both hands to his pockets, touching his thumb to the ring he still wore on his finger. The sky was not quite the right blue, and it was too hot, Tony noted.

“—And now Tony Stark will say a few words,” Maria said, gliding out of his way to approach the podium.

Tony looked at the microphone like it was a cobra. He had only planned a sentence or two, neither of which he could recall now, but in true fashion, he stepped forward and cleared his throat. “First, I’d like to thank all of the gardeners and landscapers, the contractors and builders who put together this…beautiful space. I’d particularly like to mention the architect, Daniel Toshirushi, whose uncle also died in the facility’s explosion—“ He forgot he wasn’t supposed to explicitly associate the accident with the Avengers. “—he worked tirelessly to never ask me a single question about the layout or details.” There was a small, rolling chuckle within the crowd. That should mull over his misstep.

The wind blew in the smell of flowers, making Tony pause in recognition of one in particular. What little idea he had of what he should say was blown away. “Except I did tell him to put daisies in because that’s what Pepper told me to do. Those are her favorite…” He heard his mistake. “Were her favorite,” he corrected. “It’s what she would have wanted.” He could feel Wanda’s stare boring holes in the back of his head. “Pepper also used to tell me not to wing my speeches.” Another smaller laugh. Tony looked down at his hands on the podium, his wedding band perfectly polished, golden like his late wife’s hair. “I should have listened.”

There was a stalled moment where Tony looked back out at the audience. His eyes found Steve Rogers and Sharon easily enough in the front. Steve gave the same small nod as Happy, and Sharon gave a press-lipped smile of encouragement. They were holding hands.

Tony took a deep breath and cleared his throat. “When we lose someone, as we all have and we all will, we are left with pieces of their lives, things they loved. Those little reminders are often painful as the…smell of daisies is to me, but they are beautiful. So thank you to everyone for this wonderful…tribute.” Tony pinched his nose, sniffing, and adjusting his sunglasses again. “We are deeply moved by the good work of all those involved with this project.”

He could not move away from the microphone fast enough, descending from the platform stage as Maria Hill scrambled to move the proceedings on to the unveiling of the memorial plaques. She began reading the names of the deceased. For those with military service records, Captain Barnes was charged with firing a blank. Maria paused between those last twelve names. Bucky propped the muzzle of his weapon against the rim of the vibranium shield, allowing a short, clear ring to accompany each shot.

Tony settled for standing beside Happy.

“Short and sweet, sir,” his old friend said softly. 

It made Tony more agitated than he expected. Normally, any praise of such a botched address was a standard jab from Happy. Today lacked Tony’s comfortable sarcasm, and also lacked someone else. “Where is she?” 

“Sir?”

“Sam. Where’s the kid?”

“I thought Clint talked to you.” Happy grew a noticeable shade paler. “Think it was supposed to be good news for…another time, but Sam’s gonna study at Harvard. Apparently,” he trailed hesitantly, “boarding school was not her first choice.”

Tony barely heard him. He looked around, scanning for Wanda. He dreaded the conversation coming. “Are we done here? Cause I’m gonna—” He gestured to leave.

Happy seemed a little shocked. “There’s a walk-through photo op—“

“Photoshop me in,” Tony said. “Have Yates pull the car around.” He was lucky the crowd was too busy applauding the tribute to catch him slipping away. His chest was getting tighter, his breathing hard to control.

He slid into the car, a false sense of safety dying when Wanda slid in right behind him.

“Don’t start,” he demanded, loosening his tie.

“What was that?” Wanda shrieked, spreading her arms between seats to corner Tony inside the vast space of the limo. ”Tony?!”

“Seriously, not today.” He tried to look out the window.

“Tony, tell me you know the difference,” Wanda pleaded. “When did you discuss flowers with Pepper?”

“Over coffee one morning,” he replied, attempting to sound as casual as possible.

“What morning? What year?”

“I don’t know. The one where we drank coffee!”

“How old was Sam? Was it before she was born or after?”

“I don’t remember, okay? Please back off.” Tony put up a hand to encourage her to sit down on their ride home.

Wanda sat back and crossed her arms. For nearly a decade, she had put Tony under her power’s influence to imagine his best times with Pepper. She thought it would help him heal. It was cathartic at first: she heard sobs from his room as the illusions wore off, but he always emerged focused and balanced. It kept him working instead of ruminating for weeks on end. There had been months when the team was so entrenched in a fight and its aftermath that he wouldn’t ask, but recently it had gotten especially bad. The tense he used to speak about her, rare as that was, was present tense. Wanda thought that he might not be remembering anymore but making up new experiences with his dead wife. The line had been crossed for her.

“That’s it, Tony,” Wanda declared. “I won’t do this anymore.”

Tony felt the bottom of his stomach fall out. “You can’t do that.”

“You don’t remember what’s real anymore. She’s not here. Pepper is dead and the dreams I give you can’t change that. This has gone on long enough.”

“I know what’s real,” Tony insisted, “and I know she’s gone.”

Wanda changed her tone to soothe him. “I don’t believe this is helping anymore, and I’m not sure the dreams ever did.”

Tony snorted. “Because sleeping at night isn’t helpful? Feeling like there is still someone in this world to save, that’s definitely not a motivator. Ya know, Vision would want to be remembered.”

“You are not keeping me on your side,” Wanda pushed through gritted teeth.

Tony sat back and stared out the window, wishing he had just worn his nano suit. He wanted nothing more than to fly away from this mess. “I’ll move on when you move on.”

He thought through conversations with Pepper. Truthfully he could not remember which had become a recounting of a real event or what was his mind’s creation in to fill the time until Scarlett Witch’s spell. Pepper had once told Tony that he couldn’t tie his shoes without him. Now, Tony knew she was absolutely right.

“Friday, call Barton.” The impulse passed as quickly as it came. What would I even say? “End call.”

All those years ago, when the words first fell out of his mouth, it was Pepper: I’m trying to protect the one thing I can’t live without. She was clear blue eyes, strawberry blond hair, and Tony Stark’s one thing. When Pepper was pregnant with Samantha, he would stare at her face, watching her reaction to kicks and pains and food. When Pepper gave birth, he watched her face as she met her baby for the first time. He watched Pepper play with Sam, he watched Pepper read to Sam, and he watched Pepper become elated at seeing another little plus sign on a pee stick. It was always Pepper. He never said it aloud, but it was always him and Pepper. The rest wasn’t his one thing.

Him surviving without her was never planned; he still wasn’t sure it was possible. Tony was a barely-living, vague approximation of a human being on a good day, a cocktail of sarcasm and snacks running low like the end of a party.  Tony surviving with Pepper’s child was essentially the worst case scenario, a horrible joke. A boy he could treat like himself, like Howard had treated him, making adjustments as necessary for hygiene and humor development. A girl was all Pepper’s area of expertise. He had no plan for that.

Young Tony Stark had been sent to boarding school by Sam’s age, but before that, life with his father had been about staying out of the way and life with his mother about distracting her from her husband’s philandering and drinking. That wasn’t the life Tony wanted for his kids—kid, just the one, he always had to remind himself. With the Bartons Sam had far more than Tony could provide, more than he had been provided, and in a sick way, that made Tony jealous.

But he couldn’t really complain, he reasoned, because Harvard wasn’t shabby at all. Tony watched the world go by, content in the notion that he had made the right call for Sam. She was much better off if he stayed away.

[Ch 7: Lecture]

A/N: Personally, I feel like stuff gets exciting really quickly from here, so I'll probably post the next few chapters fairly fast! This one is my baby...

[Main Masterlist]

Oh, The Fires Back, Okay, Moving On ; So I Finally Read ‘Quest For Lost Powers’ (Commentary Part 6; Fighting Fire With Fire)

<< Part 5

It’s over! The Fire Chapter is FINALLY OVER.

Let's just jump right into it so we can move on to another ninja's story.

Last time, Kai entered the realm of Indiana Jones. Skylor was un-invited cause Kai's a jerk like that. And now Kai is about to die from the fire snake except not really.

Also it turns out his powers aren't even from the snake, and he has to find it deep within himself to get them back.

You know, he learned THE SAME THING in Secrets of the Forbidden Spinjitsu, so you think this would be obvious.

[Skylor raced into the cave and flipped into the offerings pile, picking up a large, metal garbage can lid as her feet landed. Then she jumped between Kai and Fire Fang and blocked the fiery blast, using the lid as a shield.]

What a surprise, she never left.

She had so little faith in her boyfriend that she KNEW he would f**k up. So she waited in the back until seconds before his death.

What a supportive girlfriend /j /s

[Skylor dropped the red-hot shield and Kai saw she was wearing Master Chen’s fireproof oven mitts on her hands. Why didn’t I think of those? he thought.]

Girls are smart, boys aren't. That's the lesson of this. /j /s

Also I'm SO GLAD Chen, the man who started a whole race war on Ninjago and worshipped snakes, had fireproof oven mitts to support his plans.

[Kai flashed back to the smell of Fire Fang’s hot breath, and the feeling of helplessness as the creature pinned him down. Without Skylor, he’d be toast!]

Oh, so NOW you're willing to admit it.

By your logic, I think you would've been fine on your own.

[He remembered the time he had discovered his True Potential, when he realized he needed to protect the Green Ninja. Everything he did from then on, every decision he made, was based on protecting others.]

Why is this the best paragraph in this ENTIRE story?

Fr. I never knew I NEEDED to know what happened back in Season 1 with Kai and Lloyd. He saved him, he unlocked his potential, they got out.

Because, TRUER WORDS HAVE NEVER BEEN SAID.

Kai devotes everything he does towards protecting others, and looking spicy doing it. He is the protector. He is the one who has to do everything.

This is the best paragraph in the story for acknowledging this.

For THIS STORY though, I wish it worked better. Because this happened back in Season 1. After several seasons, this lesson, by this point, should've been something he already knew.

[“I can’t protect others unless I let other people protect me, too,” he realized out loud.]

OKAY. I admit. That was a cool line.

[As he said the words, his eyes glowed red and he felt the power flow within him. Fire sprouted from his hands. “Kai!” Skylor cried. “Your fire powers are back!” “Yes,” he said. “And just in time.”]

The way that was worded was VERY anti-climactic.

Like, two sentences. That's it. His eyes glowed red and fire's on is palms. That's it.

I don't know, I felt like you could've worded it better to be more special, and set a good visual for the audience.

So does this mean Kai's depression is magically gone? Because he's cured. Everything is solved now. He's gonna be mostly unaffected by this whole thing.

In Dragon's Rising, that seems to be the case too. He learned to rely on others. What does he do? He leaves Lloyd after finding him.

[“Ready,” she said. “Time to fight fire with fire!”]

Yeah that's how wars start, kids.

[“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”]

SLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURP

This guys hand is just sticking out on the side. What is that?

Also the torch is the only thing that looks like fire in this image. These flames looks like spirits.

[Kai pointed at the flaming torch of one of the Fire Fiends. He raised his hand and the flame lifted up from the torch and floated in the air. Then Kai swung his arm behind him, and the flame flew through the air and joined the flames in the Lake of Fire.]

Ooh, I love that. I love the elemental powers being used in creative ways like this.

Seriously, why didn't we see Kai doing this in the actual show?

(He might have. Call me out if he did.)

[“Nice!” Skylor cheered. “But can you do a double?” She held out both arms.]

Skylor showing off.

[“My power ran out!” she cried.]

WHEN was this a rule?

This ONLY happened in Crystalized and here.

They just made up a rule that there's a limited time to the powers Skylor absorbs. All for suspense in Crystalized.

Now, I don't MIND that rule. It's good to make a weakness for an OP character.

But 1) They should've introduced this rule back in Season 4

And 2) There is NO EXPLANATION on what said limited time is.

Season 4, she could apparently have that power always with no problem.

Crystalized, it was a few hours.

Here, it's a few MINUTES.

AND in Hunted, the Oni powers didn't fade after hours, and it poisoned her to hospitality cause they had to inject it out of her body.

SET SOME RULES FOR THIS CHICK'S POWERS, AND KEEP THOSE RULES CONSISTENT.

(Rant Over)

[Kai spun into a Spinjitzu tornado, knocking the Fire Fiends off the rim of the crater. Skylor changed tactics and kicked the torches out of their hands so Kai could easily finish them. When the last fiend was toppled, Kai whirled over to Skylor for a high five.]

Yay for MURDER.

Skylor can’t just touch Kai again? He’s right there.

[“I think we qualify as a power couple now,” he said, and then…]

Oh stop. After all the garbage you gave her?

[WHOOOOOSH!]

SLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURP

[WHOMP!]

SLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURP

[The flame flew up, over the creature’s head, and crashed into the mountain, where it fizzled against the rocks.]

Yep. This guy just manipulated someone's SPIT.

[Whirrrrrrrrrrrr!]

[BAM!]

[Vrooooooom!]

SLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURP

SLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURP

SLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURP

...funny thing, I actually had noodles for dinner today.

[“We all talked, and we thought it wasn’t fair for you both to face Fire Fang and the Fire Fiends alone,” he said. “Do you need any help?”]

I do like the IDEA of the citizens being useful.

Only problem is they show up AFTER the threat is dealt with.

[“Whoa! It just vanished,” Skylor remarked. “Maybe looking for a new place to hang out,” Kai guessed. “Aspheera created Fire Fang,” Skylor pointed out. “Maybe it returned back to elemental energy.” “We may never know,” Kai added.]

Yeah, let's leave that unconcluded. At an EPILOGUE.

This will come back into play in Dragons Rising Season 3. /j (Let's see how well this sentence ages)

[“So, you’ve got your powers back,” Skylor said. “What now?” “Well, I guess I’ll go back to Master Wu and Lloyd, and see if there’s any news from the other ninja,” Kai said. “They might need my…I mean, our help.”]

Except Skylor isn't in Dragons Rising. So something happened.

[“But first, you and I need to celebrate!” Kai added. “What do you have in mind?” Skylor asked. “I was thinking,” Kai said as he hopped into the passenger seat of the noodle delivery vehicle, “maybe it’s time to find out what this new red-hot team of Kai and Skylor can do together? I mean, the city is a real mess right now.” Skylor grinned. “I’m in,” she said, starting the engine. “No sleep till Ninjago City!”]

OH MY GOSH

IS THIS HOW WILDFYRE WAS BORN?!?!?!?!?!?

(I'm KIDDING. I know she's not Kai's daughter. Or at least, it wasn't revealed yet.)

Why did my mind get so DIRTY with this bit though?

Protected or not, you know they did it.

Our story ends with a loving couple driving out into the sunset burning to death in the desert with a fireplace. How lovely.

It’s over!

The fire section of this book is done! Three more to go. Hopefully this IS the worst one and the others are better.

I mean if the Wildbrain era is influence to all of them, that’s a given.

I’ll probably do a little review on this chapter as a whole in the next part, with my thoughts all collected and not scattered. Then we move on to the next story.

Continued in Part 7 >>

Nona the Ninth, Chapter 30

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For detail on The Locked Tomb coverage and the index, read this one!)

(Tower icon)(1) In which we make one last journey with our heroine.

Nona opens her eyes to darkness, which thickens, resolves, turns grey then transparent. Then there's a popping noise like a roar, and they're not in the tunnel, or in any recognizable space.

Nona stood up—or at least, her body stood up: she was nauseous, and thought that if she stood something would be left on the chair or stuck within Pyrrha’s arms. The belt of the chair broke as she stood. Pyrrha reached out for her. She brushed Pyrrha’s arm away. Her legs still felt like distant nothing, as did her arms, and her trunk, and her neck, but her eyes could still see and her ears could still hear and her tongue could still taste. When she opened her mouth so that her tongue could taste, it helped her to see a little better.(2)

Pyrrha and Paul are debating the metaphysics of what Paul is doing. Crown is worrying over Judith. Pyrrha double checks that Kiriona is still herself. No one notices Nona, until she taps Paul on the shoulder.

Paul looks at her, and she can't decide if she likes these unfamiliar eyes, a mix of both Camilla's and Palamedes's. Nona's mouth says she'll handle it.(3) Paul sees something in her, and unbuckles, leaving Nona to take the helm. They stay to push the accelerator pedal, as Harrow's body is too short for Nona to reach it herself.

Nona tells them their bubble won't work. Paul says it's the only thing standing between them and certain death.

Nona’s eyes dazzled. Her body shuddered beneath her. For one of the first times she acknowledged it, she felt the body as something with her, on top of her, but not her; her sense of living outside it. There was a fragile, pulpable ecstasy in that body. It was like one of the soft blue jellyfish in the harbour, with all its stings and promises, and now Nona’s self, Nona’s thoughts, were a hand closing around the jellyfish, unbidden, feeling it undulate blindly between the fingers. And the more she felt like fingers, the more she closed down.(4)

Distantly, Nona hears Pyrrha ask her to stay, so Nona stays. She tells Paul in a rush that they can't say things that are questions but not phrased like questions, and they don't need the bubble, so take it away, and don't ask questions.

Paul considers this, and Pyrrha tries to stop them, but they remove the bubble before Pyrrha finishes a sentence. The truck is now obviously driving on the surface of water, a sky above them that perhaps tries to look like the night sky, or a storm with flashes of stars or lightning.

Nona lets her hands drive without thinking too hard about it, as her body knows how to do things she doesn't.(5) Pyrrha says this should be impossible. Nona explains that the water doesn't want to touch them. Crown is still asking Judith to come back, and Nona hears some unbuckling, and people coming to crowd around behind her.

Pyrrha sucked in her breath, and she said: “What the fuck is that?” “Told you so,” said Kiriona Gaia.(6) As the megatruck spun around, the wide rippling grey waters resolved into something totally different. There was a big structure standing up out of the River—that water was the River, after all—a tall, cold cylinder of what was unmistakably stone. The waters parted around it, and each bulgy wave slammed into it as though trying to bring it down, but it was as hard and inexorable and real as the water and the skies seemed faint and fantastic. Nona thought it looked like something out of a picture book, and held on to that thought, that middle-of-the-brain thought. There was a thought above and below that knew what it was,(7) but the moment she looked at either thought she’d lose the game.(8)

Judith says "He left them too long" and calls Nona "my salt thing", and Nona is relieved that Varun is still here, and confirms that the water really won't touch them. Paul and Pyrrha flinch away at the sound of the voice, leaving Nona to manage the accelerator pedal on her own. A recording says automatic acceleration is enabled, and she slithers back up into the seat.(9)

The Tower is massive, at least as big as any crane or building back in the city. However, it scares Nona's top and bottom thoughts so badly, her heart goes ker-CHUNK and she feels pain in her arm and side.(10) However, the pain is an asset, because it means Nona can't think about anything else, and thinking is her problem right now.

Varun-Judith goes on about "the hole in the road,"(11) and Nona has the truck drive right into a massive wave to get it into the water. It sinks quickly, the wipers torn off by the current, the windshield starting to crack from the pressure. Nona struggles to keep the truck under control, and Paul comes back to press the accelerator with a hand and asks if she can get them to the Ninth House.

“Yes,” said Nona, “but—” “But?”

Nona thinks about how something is happening inside her, and she could just let it die on the spot. How she wants to leave this place as Nona, with her memories intact, not as someone else. How it's hard to want to live, and to want everyone else to live, when so much has changed so much.

She nearly, but doesn't quite close her eyes, and tells Paul maybe they shouldn't go, maybe they should let it end here like a bad dream, and they can wake up somewhere else. Maybe they should go quickly instead of dragging it out.

Paul looked at her, with those dark grey-brown pupils widening, slightly. “Nona,” they said, “Noodle’s in the back.” The middle thoughts surged. The slit widened all the way. “Oh my God,” she said, in a panic. “I forgot about Noodle.”(12) The windshield cracked all the way across the middle. Paul leant their full weight on the accelerator. Nona drove the truck home.

=====

(1) The very same used previously, as far as I can tell, to indicate the presence of the Tower Princes, AKA Ianthe and Kiriona. Do we think it's used the same way here, for Kiriona, after having used the Gideon Nav sunglasses skull for her a few chapters ago? Or did it represent more back then as well? Does this chapter change how we interpret the Tower icon's prior use? How about the chapter we just left? Not a spoiler to say we don't have a lot of time to answer this one. I wonder if it'll show up in the last book. (2) Sweet little Nona, whose senses have always been a little crossed, and who's losing control as she remembers being someone else. (Recall, she finds it easier to understand what she hears when she sees, why shouldn't taste help her see?) (3) And as Nona remembers, Alecto grows. Before it seemed she could, or perhaps chose to, only talk through Nona in dire circumstances. Now she's swimming to the surface quite a bit more, it seems. (4) Closed the fingers around it, or closed herself off from the body? I love the ambiguity Muir invokes throughout the book, throughout the series, but so many of the phrases in this last few chapters just totally blow me away. (5) I believe Harrow never had any sort of training, but Alecto… she would understand all the technology humans built, since they were all once a part of her. (6) She did warn them that something hella weird was going on in the River. (7) Alecto knows what the Tower is, maybe even why it reactivated (per the John notations) and why it wants John (if the Nona ARC version was true). But Nona's still driving this truck, literally and metaphorically, so it's still her show and remembering too much hurts. (8) The Game, in case anyone hasn't heard of it, is literally one of the simplest and meanest things in the world. If you think about the game, you lose the game, and if you want to be very mean to your friends, you tell them you lost the game, and make them lose at the same time. It's an incredibly pertinent meme to the era Muir keeps referencing, but I much prefer the version where you win the game every time you think about it, because it feels less like a cruel elementary school prank that took over my brain wiring and made me hate myself for not being able to complete an impossible task before I had the words to articulate why that was fucked up. (This is not a hate on Muir or the reference.) Still, if you think about the game, you lose the game; if Nona thinks about Alecto, she loses Nona. (9) Did she hit something by accident on her way down? Did some part of the Alecto within hit it without Nona thinking about it? (10) The sight of this thing gave Nona a heart attack. (11) What hole in what road? If the River is a road, wouldn't the most obvious hole be the stoma? (12) Noodle the dog is literally the hero of this story, and saved the entire world and maybe the universe by extension.

Welcome to Spiderhead // Transgression

Pairing(s): Steve Abnesti x Reader

Warning(s): mild language, age difference, power imbalance, drug use, some non-consensual drug use (?)

Summary: In the not so distant future, with not many healthy adults left, young delinquents are coerced into serving their time in the form of voluntary drug trials. Life at Spiderhead is generally comfortable and non eventful. You have everything you could ever need. Well, almost everything.

What starts as an impulsive wager to gain perks for you and your friends, soon takes a more risky turn for all those involved.

Seducing the doctor was definitely not part of the plan.

A/N: Also, this is technically an AU as I started writing this BEFORE watching the film and still haven’t seen it yet. I just read the short story.

CLICK HERE TO READ

@nikotokitaswife @stephv213 @andreasison​

​(alternate promo image)

CHAPTER ONE

You can’t remember your life before Spiderhead. The employees here, would have you believe it’s better this way.

If you don’t remember your past, then you can’t miss it. If you don’t remember your crime, did you really commit one?

Everyone here at Spiderhead has an unsavoury past. Your sentence, comes in the form of participating in clinical trials AKA being human guinea pigs for the drugs only the elite can afford.

Without your memories, you are just a blank slate for them to shape... or try to at least. The people you’ve met here are quite resilient.. You notice bits and pieces of what must be their old selves breaking through more and more everyday.

Still not knowing who you are or where you come from can be a jarring experience. For some, it causes them to close themselves off. Hide away in their rooms or lash out. For others, it creates a sort co-dependency between them and the new friends they’ve met while inside. It keeps them sane. Although at times, too passionate and obsessive you’ve noticed. In your case, while you value your friendships, you also cling to routine and authority.

9:00 is breakfast in the Dining Hall. Then sessions begin for the chosen few, if any at all that day. They can last anywhere from 10:30 AM, until 6:00. No more than three happen at once and no more than nine sessions in one day. 10:00 to 11:30 is communal exercise time. 11:30 onward is Study Hall. Then Lunch at 1:00. The rest of the day is spent in leisure. You can free roam the grounds. There’s the game room, the pool area, a gym, Dinner at 6:30.

After being fitted with your MobiPak™ in medical, you always make the short journey through the Garden. It’s an enclosed hallway, filled with illustrious plants and miniature ponds. It’s a welcome view on your way to such a sterile and boring room.

This time, Dr. Cassidy is currently leading you through the Garden on your way to Eval Room 1.

She stops in front of the entrance, waiting for you. That’s when you hear a string expletives coming from somewhere in the distance. You recognize Raegan’s pissed off voice and you absentmindedly find yourself halting in your tracks by the door.

It’s a stark reminder things aren’t always as peaceful here as they seem.

“God, your friend is such a juvenile, utter waste of space.” Cassidy rolls her eyes. “Here’s a little reminder for you, just in case you ever feel like acting out,” she begins. “Disobedience gets you nowhere.”

You don’t respond. All you can do is stare at the petite, but severe looking woman. Thankfully, she doesn’t dwell on the moment for long.

“Jesus, hurry up and get inside.” Cassidy practically shoves you into the swinging door, so you have no choice but to go through it.

SESSION #0128

“Ah, lucky number Thirteen. It’s good to see you again.”  It’s Dr. Abnesti’s voice you immediately hear, acknowledging you from behind the glass screen. You glance toward one of the security monitors, used to give occupants a closer look at the room above. Abnesti’s smiling face is the first thing you see. At least someone seems happy to see you. Strands of impeccably coiffed blond hair, fall down his forehead as he shuffles some papers together. He glances back up toward you. Gosh, his smile is infuriatingly perfect.

Though his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, does it? You can tell he’s been put through the ringer by Rae and despite feeling slightly sorry for Abnesti, you kind of love her even more for it. She does what you’ve never had the guts to do.

Mark is seated in the chair beside him. You consider waving hello, but instead you opt to just make eye contact. He nods at you in acknowledgement.

Taking a seat in the single white chair in the room, mentally preparing yourself for whatever experiment he had in store. Whether mental or physical. You keep quiet, until spoken to. Knowing that you’re a well needed break from whatever chaos Rae caused earlier. You try your best to keep it that way.

“I never need to make you compliant, do I?” He sighs. It’s more of an offhand remark to himself, but with the mic still on you hear it loud and clear anyway.

For some reason it’s a source of pride for you. You like that he doesn’t find you difficult or troublesome. You always try to avoid conflict when possible. The thought makes you anxious. Maybe it’s from an echo of your old life that stuck around. A rough childhood or crappy early young adulthood... you’d never know. Rae accuses you of liking it here too much, but at this point you’ve decided, all you want is a peaceful stay.

He’s looking through your notes now, no doubt trying to find what horror you’ve by chance managed to avoid. You note when his finger stops skimming the page and he settles on something.

“We haven’t used, Bluntiful™ on her yet, have we?” Abnesti asks, head still down.

"Nope, we have not," Mark confirms.

Bluntiful™. A truth drug. The name's a mouthful, but it's not so bad. You are quite relieved at what he’s settled on. You haven’t been dosed with it yet in any of your sessions, but it seems fairly tame compared to some of the other choices.

“You okay with trying that one today?” Abnesti asks, seemingly glancing up to watch you for input.

“Uh...” You actually begin to think on it, but he no longer waits for you to answer.

“Drip on?” He has already returned his gaze to his desk.

It’s always been protocol to ask in some capacity, and although you can refuse, you never do.

“Acknowledge,” you say without much thought. It’s what you always say. You also don’t want to know what will happen if you make him ask a second time.

You watch as Abnesti fiddles with his control device.

“So what’s different about this one?” you ask. As far as you know, Bluntiful™ has already been tested on some of your friends. If Abnesti is using it on you, it can’t be the same version.

Abnesti exchanges a glance with Mark. Then, he turns back to look down at you. "Uh, what do you mean?" he asks.

"Nothing. Never mind. Forget I asked."

Suddenly, Mark speaks up on your behalf. "I think she assumes it's a different variant because some of her friends must have been apart of the trials from a few months back.

Abnesti reflects for a moment, then responds. "Oh yes, that is right. It’s obvious you actually pay attention around here," he commends you. “Yeah, so this one should last slightly longer this time. Upwards of an hour, unless I decrease the dose to shut it off.”

You nod, as Abnesti swipes a dial in a clockwise motion. He starts his countdown.

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.”

After a few moments, you still don’t feel any different. You find yourself wondering if it will even work on you, when Abnesti speaks again.

“How do you feel about Spiderhead? Do you like this facility?”

“I like the friends I’ve made.”

For some reason, he doesn’t seem to notice right away that you’ve managed to avoid answering the question entirely.

“Okay and given the chance, would you leave?” Dr. Abnesti asks. You can tell he finds some humour in the question.

When, the words don’t readily flow from your mouth as expected, Abnesti stirs slightly in his chair. “Please don’t resist," he warns.

“I think we all would, wouldn’t we?” you reply finally.

Abnesti shakes his head a little in irritation. “Speak plainly and answer the question.”

“Yes, I would leave. This is only temporary anyway. Two years?”

“Mmmhmm.” The scientist nods, as he takes his pen to his notepad. “What do you think of Dr. Fournier?”

Dr. Melanie Fournier is a kind and beautiful French woman. A favourite among many around here. Like Abnesti, she’s not a medical doctor, but holds a PhD. You sometimes have sessions with her, when Abnesti is otherwise occupied.

“She’s a very driven and intelligent woman. Focused, yet accommodating. I like her a lot.”

“And Dr. Cassidy?” He asks, looking up at you.

The woman who brought you here. You have no trouble finding the words to describe her. “I find her to be very cold and calculating. Hateful too. I think she’s hateful. She pushed me into a door...” you say matter of factly. “She’s like a giant, evil rodent.”

You hear both men chuckle, before you quickly start talking again. “I don’t like her at all... or her haircut.”

“Noted.” Abnesti writes something down again. “And how do you feel about me?” His eyes on you are watching you more intensely this time.

The question catches you off guard, and you find yourself faltering a bit. You bite your lip.

"My personality...my temperament, how I run things around here."

Oh, thank God.

“Oh, well you can be nice at times. Strict at others. Otherwise, I think you’re just fine I suppose.”

Abnesti mouth quirks up into a slightly mischievous grin.

“You haven’t seen me be very strict with you, have you, Thirteen?” There’s a warning in his tone that you find off putting.

“Well, no, I haven’t...” you admit. You only based your truth on what others have told you, but you haven’t actually experienced it yourself. He is always even tempered with you. You’ve never seen him when he’s pissed or angry.

“So next time answer with your own experiences then, hmm.”

After being called out, you find yourself nodding promptly. “Of course.”

There’s a beat of silence before Abnesti speaks again. “How do you feel about the sessions? Do you enjoy them?”

What kind of question is that? There’s nothing to enjoy about the irregular and spontaneous nature of these sessions. You never knew what was going to happen during them. Sometimes you had it easy, but other times, you could get an undesired experienced.

“I neither enjoy nor dislike them.”

“Does having to participate in these sessions, ever aggravate you in any way?”

Aggravate? That’s a strong word. A negative emotion, like anger. You felt little of that at all lately, but you suppose that could all change. A slight annoyance, yes. Aggravation, no. Like you said, that word is too strong.

Sure, you’ve been curious about what’s to come in your sessions, but then you recall your recent walk down, and the ones before it. You find you aren’t too annoyed or fearful about the idea at all, but that could all change one day. Besides, they are mandatory.

“No,” you answer quickly, and Abnesti jots down some words.

“But that could always change.” The words come out before you’ve even decided to say them, and he looks up right as you do. Like he didn’t expect you to say them either.

You continue to talk with him for some time. You aren’t really sure how long. You just suddenly become aware of how dry your mouth is and how stiff your body is in your chair, after not moving for some time.

When the clock gets to 5:59, Abnesti ends the session. “Bringing you back to baseline....drip on?”

“Acknowledge.”

The two of you sit in silence while you wait to return to normal. After a moment, he speaks again.

“Thanks for your help. You’ve been a pleasure as always,” Abnesti smiles down at you.

You stand getting ready to leave, as you do, you can’t help but smile back.

Positive reinforcement. You cling to that as well.

For a little bit of sunshine - Chapter 4

Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick

Rating: Teen and up audiences

Summary: He is one of the country’s best naval aviators, she is a dance instructor and a writer. He has been called back to Top Gun for an extremely dangerous mission, she is battling her insecurities. They meet at a bar. This is their story.

Relationships: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Female OC

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3

Chapter summary: After realizing that Rooster doesn't feel the same way as she does, Maggie decides to move on and goes on a line dancing event with Keeley and her friends.

Songs: Hello Mr Heartache by The Chicks, Gives You Hell by The All American Rejects, The Lasso Ranch playlist

Word count: 1565

A/N: Originally, I wasn’t planning to send Maggie to a country club, but after rewatching Footloose, I wanted to see her doing some country dancing. Also, since I couldn’t decide what song should be on at the end of the chapter, I put together a playlist with upbeat country songs that could be played in The Lasso Ranch and any of them can fit that scene. You can find a link to the playlist in the songs section.

Chapter 4 - High value

I will be okay, no matter what.

Lying in her bed with her legs tangled into the covers, Maggie Rose Miller had to realize she wasn’t okay. No matter how many times she repeated that sentence like a mantra or how many Just Dance routines she had done, she still wasn’t feeling better.

Two days had passed since the realization that Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, the first annoying, now attractive piano guy didn’t like her the same way as she did, and she was still feeling bad about it. Sadness, anger, disappointment, and shame came to visit and they didn’t want to go away. She was sad due to the fact that Rooster didn’t like her enough (or at least it seemed so) which made her angry - mostly with herself for letting this happen again, for liking someone who didn’t reciprocate the feeling. This led to the disappointment that despite all the hard work on herself, she was still back at the beginning, doing what she was the best at: being a letdown. Right now, to herself. And then along came the shame she felt for not being able to learn from her own mistakes and for letting herself be fooled by a couple of phone calls and encounters she didn’t dare call dates. Oh, and for not being able to move on just yet. Based on the books she read and the videos she watched, she thought that a confident, high value woman would get over a guy in a snap. He didn’t like her? She’d just shrug it off and move on, most probably to Nancy Sinatra’s These Boots Are Made for Walking. In Maggie’s head, however, Hello, Mr Heartache by The Chicks was playing on repeat, and no matter how many times she snapped her fingers, the feelings were still there. Perhaps this was an exaggeration, but she definitely felt like these women moved on in a blink of an eye which was something Maggie couldn’t do. And it gave her another reason to hate herself.

While having breakfast, she was sweeping through her journals, hoping to find something about moving on, asking herself the question: what would a confident woman do? Well, apparently, a confident woman would not suppress her feelings. A confident woman accepts them and doesn’t think things like ‘How dare you like him? He’s so out of your league!’ No, a confident woman never puts a man on a pedestal, even if he is a Top Gun pilot and dances like a dream.

“What would a confident woman do in such a situation?” she asked herself once she finished reading.

Well, she would acknowledge the feeling: it sucks when he doesn’t like you enough. Then she would give herself time to mourn the relationship - or in this case, the potential. She would wallow, she would blast Gives You Hell in her car with the windows down (if that was her thing), then she would move on towards the new possibilities.

And that was exactly what she was going to do, too.

***

And truth be told I miss you And truth be told I’m lying…

The next morning, Maggie woke up with Gives You Hell playing in her head. She didn’t feel much better than the day before, but this time it was mostly due to the lack of sleep - perhaps it wasn’t the best idea starting to watch The Ugly Truth at midnight. Getting out of bed she spotted her notebook left open on her desk. Taking a look inside, she saw the rough outline of a story idea. She had some blurred memories of pacing up and down in the living room with first a glass, then with a bottle of wine, thinking about a notoriously single woman - the last one standing amongst her friends and family - and a male relationship coach who would have to team up for some reason, and of course would end up falling in love with each other. His name would be Brandon, he’d be in his mid-thirties, with a mustache, looking like a character from an ‘80s TV show.

“That was very smooth, Maggie,” she told herself with a headshake.

On the other hand, she took this as a good sign. A confident woman would totally turn her misery into something creative. And make a voodoo doll, she added in thoughts. Oh, wait. That’s a good one! She picked up a pen and quickly wrote it down.

Even though she was still listening to Gives You Hell when she arrived at the fitness center, Maggie was feeling a lot better.

“Tomorrow we’re going out with the girls,” Keeley Morrison told her when she entered the building, saying hello to the receptionist and Toni Álvarez who was chatting with her. “It’s line dancing night at The Lasso Ranch.”

Toni skeptically raised a brow, but to his surprise, Maggie smiled at the offer. Line dancing wasn’t really her cup of tea, but she felt it was a good opportunity to try something new and a confident woman would definitely do that.

“Sure, why not?” she said.

“Line dancing, really?” Toni echoed, still being skeptical.

“It’s a good opportunity to step out of my comfort zone,” Maggie said with a shrug.

“Yeah, but line dancing? Sorry, Keeley, it’s really not my thing,” he admitted, then turned back to Maggie. “You might as well try kizomba.”

“Yeah. Or go swimming with sharks. Thanks, but no thanks,” she said.

“Nice try, though,” Keeley said to Toni who nodded his head.

“Count me in tomorrow,” Maggie said then headed to the locker room to change.

***

The Lasso Ranch was a bar in San Diego run by a retired aviator with the call sign “Lasso” who organized line dance nights regularly. Seeing all the cowboy boots, denim vests and cowboy hats she felt underdressed in her denim shorts and a blue plaid shirt worn over a plain black tank top, wearing sneakers. At least she could have borrowed a hat from someone. She was feeling a little embarrassed as she glanced at Keeley and her two friends, Denise and Melissa, all looking like they had just come back from shooting a country music video.

“Shall we hit the dance floor?” Melissa asked, throwing a glance at the crowd dancing in unison to a lively country song.

“I’m too sober for this,” Keeley said, sweeping her light brown hair behind her back. “And so is Maggie,” she added with a small laugh. “You look like you’re on a different planet.”

“I feel like I am,” the dance instructor admitted, and even though she tried to joke it off, she felt her anxiety clenching her stomach. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

However, as they were waiting for their drinks at the bar, she decided to stop this. Or at least, try to. Now that she was here at a dance night with some friends, why not have some fun? A confident woman would do that. And if I still feel like an alien an hour later, I can still go home, she thought to herself.

She clinked glasses with the girls and downed her shot, letting the alcohol wash away her anxiety. She still felt nervous when she followed Keeley and her friends to the dance floor, but she tried to see it as a challenge.

“Just do what everyone else does,” Keeley told her with an encouraging smile. “It’s pretty easy.”

“Salsa is a lot harder,” Denise said, adjusting her hat on her thick, black curls.

“And even I could learn this, without a sense of rhythm,” Melissa told her. “So, I’m sure you can, too.”

“Thank you,” Maggie nodded with a small smile, and she began to tap the beat with her foot, familiarizing with the music.

Then she started to follow the steps of the person standing in front of her. She couldn’t really tell whether they were a man or a woman, she wasn’t paying attention to that. What mattered to her was what their feet were doing in those brown, embroidered cowboy boots.

The first song was more like a stumble party, but in the second one she could follow the steps better, and when the third one came along, she even began to enjoy herself. This lasted until she missed a turn and she only noticed it when the brown boots were towards her. Maggie felt her cheeks turning red and she froze like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Just turn,” she heard a soft voice belonging to the owner of the boots: a young man with a light-colored cowboy hat, dark blonde hair, green eyes and a wide grin she found familiar.

“Thanks!” she said, then turned around quickly, trying to concentrate on the steps instead of trying to figure out where she had seen this guy before.

After that she caught him throwing a glance at her every once in a while and she wasn’t only looking at his boots anymore. Then, when another turn came, he was supposed to face forward, but he stayed where he was.

“You forgot to turn,” she stated.

“No, I didn’t,” he said, flashing a smile at her and he finished the song facing her, and surprisingly, she didn’t mind it.

When the song ended, he stepped to her and held out his hand.

“I’m Jake.”

“Maggie.”

“Let’s get you a drink.”

***

Chapter 5

Tagging: @lj13oct, @discojohndeacy, @luckyladycreator2, @moechen86, @katieshook02, @the-untamed-soul, @literary-lesbian, @a-littlebit-ofeverything, @jascasandra, @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth, @angelinagabriel​, @alanadetigy, @multiple-fandoms-girl​

Some CoT shenanigans (?)

I know it's been only a day since I read the book but I need to do this so badlyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.

Here are some thoughts about CoT that I need to get out in the open before they eat me alive. I’m just a fan of this series since 2014 and I’ve been waiting for this book to come since that year.

(Note: English is not my native language so sorry for the mistakes)

-------------------------SPOILER ALERT!!!-----------------------------

In general I can say I really enjoy the book, I liked it a lot. I mean, I did feel it a bit rushed since the Intermission chapter, and at the same time I felt it a bit slowed before the same chapter. I felt as things that were relevant (for example, the bracelet thing or finding Lucie) could be written or summarized in two or three chapters but took so long to resolve. Anyways, I’ll be breaking down some of the stuff that I can’t stop thinking about

1. The love triangle. I mean, WHY? There was already a third person in that relationship (aka Gracelet). I won’t lie, at the beginning I wanted to know what would happen or how would it be if Matthew and Cordelia kissed. But just a kiss, not the whole bridge and hotel scene. While I was reading half of it, I wanted the kissing to stop lol. I mean, you can see how much she drowns in love for James in the past books, but there are just tiny glimpses of her POV when she acknowledges Matthew’s smile, eyes, etc., but not in such a romantic way as when she talks about James, it was more friendly if anything when she talks about Math. That difference made me feel that maybe the scene was kinda out of place. Idk, I just felt as if there wasn’t enough romantic history between these two to make such a scene like that (not the way as in TID where you could see Tessa and Jem having those moments as well as Will and Tessa). Their friendship was really special, and it should have remained that way. This love triangle felt as another way to wound Matthew bc I think everyone knew how it would end.

2. Cristopher’s death. IDK HOW TO FEEL ABOUT IT (Of course I’m sad but you know). Because I really wish we could’ve been able to see more of him in the past books. I had a really strong feeling that all his potential was only shown in a few pages of CoT, in the way he helped Matthew with his abstinence and Kit’s reaction and wisdom about all the bracelet thing.  I know he’s similar to Henry’s character (in the way he’s too wrap up in scientistic stuff) but Kit is WAY CLOSER to the Merry Thieves (damn, he was one of the 4 members – and as far as I’m concerned James, Matthew and Thomas characters had similar relevance) and way more INVOLVED in the plot than Henry was on TID. I do think Kit deserved more relevance.

3. The coronation. I had hope it would have some deeper meaning to the plot, as if the coronation would allow Belial’s to take control all over the world, not only London (I can’t recall if it was mentioned, if that’s the case, I would’ve liked more elaboration as to the consequences)  – or for instance, it would had some other frikin’ dark and evil reason as to why he’s been planning all this stuff up since so long ago.

4.  There were too many characters for only three books. I mean, we followed so many storylines and that’s why I felt it was a little rushed in the end. And even in the Epilogue, it didn’t give me a sense of closure (tbh, Idk if that’s for the better) – still, I don’t know why I have this feeling as if there were things left unspoken. Like I was expecting for a conversation between James and Cordelia after everything that they went through. Same for Lucie and Cordelia (this is another thing that had me losing my mind, see next point). I was hoping that we’ll get to see Matthew’s story confession and the whole gang reaction. I thought we would see all and more scenes I wanted to read but there were only sentences that made look as if everything was so unseeingly settle.

As well, there were situations that I thought would be a little bit hard to work out (Anna and Ariadne relationship or Alastair’s confession for reference (Idk if I’m missing something but I don’t recall Sona knowing that Alastair liked men, pls forgive my bad memory if that’s the case ☹)) but at the end it was so simple. I mean, despite everything Anna and Ariadne had said in the past, I was expecting they’re relationship to develop a little more strongly. Idk if that makes sense but I felt such an absence of Anna’s usual character, Idk why (For instance, this is regarding her behavior before Kit’s death). I mean, they never really talked, there were only kisses scenes - but I wanted them to actually sit and settle things down, not in the rush of the moment, like the battle.

5. Cordelia and Lucie relationship. OMG I wanted so bad for them to be parabatai. This was one of the reasons I wanted to read TLH, but tbh I felt as if their relationship was push aside (for most of the series). I know each one of them had a secret but I’d loved to see them bonding more than for a few scenes. And in the end, IDFK when did they worked out their problems. I mean, there were pretty awful words and hurt feelings between them but I don’t know if I missed the part where they apologize – or at least talk about it. Still, I’m happy to see they did get to do the ceremony and all.

6. Grace. For most of my reading of TLH I only thought of her just as a tiny not-so-evil lovely bug that was manipulated by her mother. I didn’t exactly hate her – I felt a strange sympathy for her. It was such a complex character and I liked the way she was developing throughout the book – until the epilogue. Idk what it was but somehow, I felt her ending incomplete.

7. Tatiana’s death. I didn’t want Cordelia to kill anyone. I mean, I know they’re shadowhunters but they kill demons, no humans or someone like them. It was weird at the beginning BUT honestly Idk what other ending I can imagine for all the horrible things Tatiana had done.

Now, things I actually LOOOOOOOOOOVED.

1. The way Matthew’s problem with alcohol was handled. I was so f****** afraid he was going to die bc of it, but he didn’t so I’m happy.

2. One thing that I really loved was the fact the it was the love that James felt for Cordelia what break the bracelet and free him from its power and also overpower his grandfathers will (considering that man was a Prince of Hell). I found it rather poetic.

3. LOVED WILL SENDING FIRE MESSAGES AND THE THELEPHONE THING. THAT WAS SO FRIKIN FUNNY.

4. I didn’t know how much I needed the scene between Tessa and Lucie until I read it. (And the little fraction of sentence were Tessa and Will were fighting the Watchers).

5. This may be controversial, but I feel so conflicted about the ending. I already established that I didn’t get the closure that I’m used to regarding other CC’s books. Still, I can’t help but be happy that the couples (except for Kit and Grace) ended up being together and happy.

[ Chapter 3 ]

[ masterpost ]

A/N: big shout out to @sayosdreams for letting me fuck the system a little and lifting my mood and view of this chapter in the process, kudos <3

W/C: 2.7k

T/W: alcohol abuse, depiction of depression, suicidal thoughts

It was almost mid-morning when Nesta reached her place. Place that was her sister’s, but that was not the point. She’d eaten her scrambled eggs in quiet silence, alone while Cassian showered. The longest shower of his life, probably. Then she had politely refused his offer to drive her back home, making sure she convincingly pointed out that her sister shared a house with her fiancé, Rhysand, who happened to be also Cassian’s other best friend. He quickly understood where she was going with it, saving her the effort of explaining herself further.

Things couldn’t have been more fucked up, could they?

So she’d walked, for thirty minutes, in high heels.

Nesta had contemplated the idea of taking her shoes off halfway through and settled for a solid yes once she was far enough from the city center, walking barefoot for the second half of the way.

She didn’t knock or ring the doorbell, yet the blue-painted wood frame opened before her eyes. A tall man, with black blow-dried hair and eyes a weird shade of blue that seemed a lot like violet looked down at her. Nesta never believed the shade to be natural; there was nothing his daddy’s money couldn’t buy, and he desperately needed something to make him seem like an interesting person, or at least less boring. His gaze narrowed, lingered for a moment more - she held it with equal unpleasantness - and dropped lower, at her hands: one clutching her shoes by the heels and the other digging through her purse, looking for the keys.

“Nesta,” he said, smiling blatantly, “I heard your monologue from the other room. Impressive knowledge of curses, may I say.”

“Law school proved itself to be useful, after all,” she just commented, taking a step. He didn’t move to let her in, choosing instead to stay still as a pillar on the threshold.

She was in no mood for his tantrums, and she let him know that when she shouldered her way inside the villa.

He followed her, of course. He had to. Otherwise where would be the fun?

“You didn’t come home tonight.”

“How could you tell?” She remarked sarcastically.

“Hope you had a lot of fun with Gwyn and Emerie tonight,” he went on, “Feyre was worried sick.”

Nesta’s brain cut short for a moment. Hearing all three names in the same sentence made her blood run cold. She’d told her friend she wasn’t feeling well, that she would have gone home earlier. Home she’d never reached. If the girls had asked anything to Feyre-

“You could have at least pretended to acknowledge her messages, you know”, Rhysand said, bringing her attention back to the now.

“It would have had to ring first,” she said, looking at him for a moment before retrieving her phone. The screen was black and wouldn’t light up, no matter how many times she hit the home button. That explained a lot. Actually, it explained everything.

“It must’ve died out at some point. I get Feyre isn’t home now, so I’ll apologize to her once she’s back.” Nesta said, turning toward the stairs once again.

“Where have you been all night, Nesta?” Rhysand called after her, a not-so-veiled accusation in his tone.

“That would be none of your fucking business, Rhysand.”

She quickened her pace until she got to her room, pressing her back against the door and letting her body slid to the floor. Her brain was already overworking, mixing images and feelings and memories and possibilities. Past, present, and future had no distinction, the lines between them too blurred to be taken into account, when she whispered against the cold hands pressed on her face “Don’t fuck up again, Nesta.”

[ 1 year and a half before ]

It started as a normal knock, turning into a relentless beat after the first five times she didn’t get out of the bathtub to open the door.

“Nesta, we know you’re in there,” the person outside her apartment said. It was a familiar voice, yet she couldn’t quite remember who-

“It’ us, Nesta. Feyre and Elain. Your sisters, remember?”

Ah, that’s why she recalled who the voice belonged to.

“We’re worried about you,” a softer voice - Elain - said, “you’re not answering your phone anymore.”

Where was her phone?

Nesta slowly turned her head to the right, seeing no little black device on the floor tiles. Oh, well, people said technology was bad, anyway.

“Nesta, if you don’t open the door I-” said Feyre.

Nesta couldn’t grasp the rest of the sentence: she’d accidentally hit the bottle balanced on the edge of the tub while trying to lay down, making it fall to the floor. The sound of shattering glass ate up her sister’s words. Nesta didn’t look twice at what was left of it, or its brownish contents now running through the lines between the dirty tiles.

A moment after the front door locked open and steps shuffled on the ground.

“Gods-” said Elain, or Feyre, or both.

Nesta knew what they were so shocked about: leftovers of the past four days’ meals were on every surface available, along with empty bottles of various types of liquors. You name it, she’d drank it. She remembered stacking the first few in the kitchen sink, but it filled quicker than she had expected. The bathtub was bigger, but she needed it for her therapeutic water-free baths, so the floor itself became the best option.

She heard them moving around, clicking empty-and-not bottles, ruffling papers and boxes, and opening trash cans already full. Nesta only tugged the shower curtain close and shut her eyes. She rested her head against the wall: it was so very cold - as it should be mid-November with no heating turned on - and she felt like she could spontaneously combust, catching fire at any moment. Nesta hoped she really could.

Burn.

The steps became rushed as her sisters started to call her name, concern lacing every letter. The bathroom door flew open, the handle bouncing once against the wall as Feyre cleared the space in little to no time, throwing aside the curtain with so much force Nesta thought she’d ripped it from its rings.

Feyre couldn’t swallow down a full breath when Nesta met her eyes: they were wide and a lot like her own. Nothing was missing in them, though. Her sister scanned her face, then dropped her gaze to her wrists, her bare legs. She was looking for something and seemed relieved when she didn’t find it.

“Feyre did you-”, Elain said, stopping on her tracks once she set foot in the bathroom as well. She muttered something like gratitude to the Gods before flanking the younger sister in front of the tub. Nesta looked at her, too, before saying, “Get out.”

“What?”, Feyre asked.

“I said get out,” Nesta repeated herself, trying to sound as mean as she usually was, but since her sisters didn’t make a move, didn’t even flinch at her words, she guessed she didn’t have much venom left to spit.

“No,” Elain said,” you’re the one who’s getting out. Starting from this bathtub.”

She reached out her hand, her arm slicing the space between them. Two towers looking down a dead body. She left her hanging, didn’t meet her midway.

Feyre scoffed, her distress entirely gone, “We’ve spent the last three hours on a plane, rushing here just because-”

“I never asked you to,” Nesta said, turning back to look straight at the nothing in front of her.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me, Nesta.” The younger sister’s anger was turning into a palpable thing as she said, “no one had seen you or heard from you in the past week, they’re going to kick you out from the law firm because you didn’t show up once, this place is a fucking junkyard and you’re half-naked in an empty bathtub.”

Nesta saw her moving with the corner of her eye, heard broken glass creaking under her sister’s weight and the bottles in the sink clinked against each other as she grabbed one of them, ruining the precarious balance they were in. Still, Nesta didn’t move. She wasn’t sure her legs would keep her up, not with the pounding, ever-present headache she’d befriended lately.

Elain’s little voice did nothing to calm Feyre down because she kept going on saying, “Do you know how much of this shit we’ve found in your kitchen? Nine bottles, Nesta. Nine. There are four more here and Gods know how many more we would find in the rest of the apartment.”

“They weren’t full,” was Nesta’s only reply. Only three of them were, the rest were just thirds or quarters, what remained from the past five years of her life.

It happened before she could even realize what it really was, before she could give it a name, before she found herself unable to live through the night without at least two glasses of whatever liquor she felt like having. It was subtle, an ever-present shadow in the corner of the room, the kind of thing you wouldn’t even notice if you weren’t actively looking for it.

Nesta was a fast learner, so she quickly understood how to hide it well in plain sight: the first time she got wasted after Cassian left for one of his mission, she woke up with a terrible headache and called the office to take a sick day; the second time, she made sure to ask for a few more days off after his departure date; the third time she told her family she wasn’t feeling her best and she thought it was better if she stayed at home. During every occasion - it was dinner with friends and family or an evening spent alone in her apartment, even a night bent over papers for work, or just a quick lunch during mid-day break - there was just one certainty: Nesta Archeron with a glass rim between her lips.

“I don’t give a fuck!” Feyre screamed, making Elain flinch. “Look at you, Nesta. This is-” a pause, “When we saw a knife was missing I-” another pause. No, a full stop. A bottle falling, the sound absorbed by the carpet until it rolled on the tiles, then a sob - from which sister, she didn’t know.

Nesta only blinked and pulled her legs tight to her chest, pressing her closed eyes against her bent knees and folding her arms around herself.

Another sob - from which sister, no one knew. They were all crying.

“You can’t live like this,” Elain said, her voice breaking.

“I don’t want to live at all.”

[ 1 year and a half after, again ]

As soon as Nesta attached the phone to the charger and the screen lit up, it buzzed for three minutes straight. She managed to change into more comfortable clothes before the last one of the messages came in with a ding.

Plopping on the bed, she reached for the device and saw that most of the notifications had Feyre’s name on them. Tomas came close second, only by two missed calls. Nesta scrolled through her sister’s texts - mostly were “Where are you?” or “I’m worried” or “Please call me” but using different words every time. She’d talk with her as soon as she was home, Nesta decided. Apologies held no meaning if said through a phone.

She purposefully ignored Tomas’ messages, leaving them for last, and moved on to the next chat. It was the “DNFWTVBTWKYA⚔️⚜️🦄” group chat with Gwyn and Emerie. The full name - Do Not Fuck With The Valkyries Because They Will Kick Your Ass - had remained the same since the day they’d seen the mythological superhero-god film and developed a crush-slash-obsession for yet another side character, Valkyrie, spending the following two days deep researching everything they could about Norse Mythology as a whole. Nesta still remembered Gwyn’s disbelieving tone when she remarked “the audacity people have not to include a Pegasus emoji, like- the disrespect”. She’d had to settle for the unicorn’s one instead.

IQ+ADHD📚💫: Nes, your sister called me. I told her you were staying with us for the night. Please don’t do anything stupid

IQ+ADHD📚💫: Dying is also considered stupid

🌈✨Fruity✨🌈: Don’t listen to her and go do your thing, Tomas deserves everything

Nesta rolled on her back, thinking again about that night and cursing herself in every language she knew. Bringing the phone back to her face, she typed:

Bitch With An Attitude 💥: Sorry, battery died out. R u free this afternoon?

Not even a minute after, Emerie’s reply came in:

🌈✨Fruity✨🌈: I am now

🌈✨Fruity✨🌈: Tea’s hot right?

She just sent back a few laughing emojis before locking the phone again, Tomas’ texts still unread. Nesta needed to clear her head before talking with the girls, which would help her clear her already cleared head before confronting Tomas. Not that there would be much talking between them. She would play it cool until she was back in Hewn City, that was the only sure thing she knew. What she did not know was how things would go from then: would she tell him the truth? That she had cheated on him with her 10-years boyfriend - ex-boyfriend - she hadn’t really moved on from, apparently, and who also could have easily been the love of her life?

Or would she tell him she had cheated with a random guy with no name and no face and no shared past?

Would she tell him she had cheated in the first place?

Maybe she could just call it quit as Emerie had so strongly - and repeatedly - suggested, and blame everything on their incompatibility, the “it would have never worked out in the long run”, or some shit like that.

Her phone buzzed at her side, throwing Nesta back to the present. The number she eyed on the screen notification was not one of her contacts, and she understood why just once she unlocked the phone and read the message.

It was Cassian’s.

Nesta opened the profile picture, recognizing the shot: she’d snapped it during their trip to the zoo, while he was busy with an ostrich, too afraid of the “weird thing he was doing with his head” to break eye contact first. “It doesn’t matter if I’m wearing sunglasses, Nes. He’s staring right at my soul, he can see it, I know. What if our buddy here is a female and now is mad because I used the wrong pronouns? Special Forces soldier murdered by assassin ostrich at the zoo,” he had added right after she’d made fun of him. Nesta had laughed so much her face hurt by the end of the day. Just a few weeks after Cassian was gone again, called back to the front line, and she was left with nothing but memories.

She hit the exit button and finally read the message: it was a photo of her keys, with “forgot something?” written underneath.

Nesta cursed the universe and Cassian with it.

“If you hate me so much you could say it to my fucking face,” she said to no one but everything was listening to her at the same time.

* * *

Nesta was seated at the same place in the same corner of the same bar when Gwyn came in. She rushed to her, kissing her fondly on the cheek, and took her seat at the other end of the little squared table.

“I saw Emerie while walking here, she just needs to find where to park the car,” she said.

“That’s fine,” Nesta replied, then adding, “I already ordered cake for everyone.”

Gwyn gave her a conspiratory smile, but before a single word could leave her lips, Emerie slumped on the free chair between them.

She started her greetings but stopped mid-sentence as her gaze fell on Nesta’s hand.

To the six months of sobriety coin - her second one - that she was playing with while waiting to meet her dearest friends.

“Did you-”

“No,” Nesta interrupted her, not wanting to hear the condemning and pitiful words for a third time, “no, I didn’t drink anything.”

“Why is it out, then?” Gwyn asked, eyeing her cautiously. They both knew more than well how well Nesta guarded her secrets, and this one in particular was the biggest of them all. She wouldn’t dare risk it revealed if not for a very good reason.

“It is out,” Nesta began, feeling her resolution coming less with every breath she took, “because I broke a different rule.”

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That's Cassian's PFP, because we all deserve a Can Yaman in our lives

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Taglist: @confusedfandomslut @nestaspegasus @sayosdreams @bookstantrash @moodymelanist @starksravings @iddragyouwithme @thewayshedreamed @letstakethedawn @perseusannabeth @duskandstarlight @julemmaes @sv0430 @simpingfornestaarcheron @whoever-you-choose-to-love @whoreforgwynriel I have the memory of a goldfish sO let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist!

Now that both Courtney books are out and I’ve read and processed them both, I do want to say that I think they’re the least well-written of any of the AG books, but not through any fault of their own- let me explain.

(Note that for this discussion I’m ignoring the Doylist criticisms- Courtney and 3/4 of her friend group being white again, the lack of gay discussion in-text in regards to the HIV crisis, etc. These are valid complaints and concerns, but not what we’re talking about right now.)

The Problem with the Current Book Length

I think the main problem with Courtney stems from the fact her books are so short. American Girl has literally been doing the stupidest things in regards to their books lately, almost as if they’re trying to sabotage them on purpose. First they remove illustrations in 2015- when their target audience is about nine years old. I don’t know about you, but when I was six and getting into American Girl, the illustrations were the highlight for me. Not because I had no attention span and loved pretty pictures, but because it showed me firstly what the girl’s life was like, whether it be 1760s wilderness or 2001 Chicago. It was like stepping into their world, really helping you get into their heads, which was basically what the dolls were supposed to do, to let you know that girls like you exist throughout time and space.

As well as that, the illustrations were free advertisement. I can’t tell you how excited me and my sisters were as children to go to the American Girl place and look at the doll displays, shouting that that’s the dress Felicity wears to the ball! or look, Josefina’s goat looks exactly like the book! AG cut that from 2015 to 2020, as if they were trying to appeal to an older audience- while at the same time changing all the doll outfits, accessories and marketing to appeal to a younger demographic.

Now, this isn’t about the illustrations, as Courtney got those- it’s about what they did to the historical characters after the Illustration Outrage™ happened. See, they’d condensed the historical six-book format into two books- not necessarily a bad idea, parents would be more likely to buy two books for their kid than consider buying six. However, they then claimed that if they put illustrations back, they would have to abridge the books- literally my nightmare.

First of all, American Girl, we know for a fact you can fit all six books plus illustrations into ONE VOLUME, let alone two. You’re just being cowards here and trying to nerf your own stories for... some reason.

So that meant a lot of important things got cut- Rebecca’s Chanukah story, Melody’s cousin’s house search, Maryellen’s Christmas adventure... all things important to the girls’ histories and character.

The Problem with Courtney’s Writing

Now, Courtney was the first doll to be released after the abridging began, meaning her books were released, in their entirety, just as short as the abridged stories. So it basically means she gets four books while the others get six- and unlike the others, Courtney doesn’t even have mysteries or short stories to pad out. (And honestly, looking at her book’s amount of content, I’d even argue that she basically got two while everyone else got six, but I digress.)

The problem with her books isn’t that they have an author writing them poorly (I really feel like her author was doing the best with what limited time she had), but in how cramped American Girl made them. Because, well, Courtney has to deal with a lot in such a short amount of words.

Let’s compare her to Julie, for instance- Julie pretty much has a new 70s thing every book. In order: feminism, rising divorce rates, San Francisco’s Chinese culture, environmentalism, the country’s bicentennial, anti-bullying and deaf acceptance. And adding to this, we also have her own personal journies through her parents’ divorce and move, her basketball team, her friendship with Ivy (and later Joy), overcoming her fear of horses, student council, detention... It’s a lot, and yet her books don’t feel rushed or forced at all. It’s just a year in the life of a girl going through a lot of new and sudden events, and how she grows and changes throughout them. She may not be as deep a character as Addy or Kirsten, but not every girl goes through the trials and tribulations they do, and it’s a good series overall.

Courtney, meanwhile, does feel rushed and forced, because of the short timespan. Instead of fitting everything into a six-book format- or even at two-book format that is the same length and content as the six-book- everything has to be fit into two short books.   Everything Courtney has to cover includes the topics of divorce and stepfamilies, feminist and technological advancement, the Challenger explosion, the HIV crisis, Hands Across America, and the founding of Pleasant Company. And in Courtney’s own journey, she has to cover her learning to stand up for herself, her relationship with her stepsister and Tina’s own character development, her mother running for mayor and how that affects her, how much she misses her Dad after he moves, her friendship with Sarah (note on that later), her basically getting hate-crimed after standing up for her friend... that’s a LOT of stuff, and I didn’t even include the non-AG 80s product placement they shove into her collection.

But without the longer format, everything is pushed together to its detriment. Tina’s development and Maureen’s mayoral candidacy are two plotlines that are literally dropped and almost completely ignored in the second book. The Challenger and HIV issues were handled decently, but the Challenger only lasted a few short chapters, and the HIV topic was not as informative as it could be, leaving out several things like Reagan’s refusal to treat it for so long, and its effect on the gay community. Honestly, the HIV scare was more shifted to focus on the mob mentality of a new and scary disease- which, while needed right now, also ignores many of the bigotry-related reasons it became an epidemic. Pleasant Company’s inclusion feels forced in, and I think was the only resolution she had to her Dad plotline?

And don’t get me started on the Sarah plotline- every Girl of the Year since Kanani- sans Isabelle and Luci- has had the story of “oh no I’ve been ignoring my friend and now they’re mad at me :(” and it’s SO old. Seriously, I counted the contemporary dolls that have had that storyline, and it’s thirteen*. Thirteen times we’ve covered this issue- almost all of it in quick succession- and now we have to deal with it in a historical character book while much more important things are going on! Yes, it sucks when a friend ditches you while you’re being attacked and bullied for something you’re standing up for, but once again, with how much is happening in such a short book, it just feels like a forced-in plotline that we’ve seen a billion times, and with their falling-out happening mainly due to the attention Courtney was given Isaac, it serves to make Sarah seem closed-minded at best and bigoted at worst- it’s clarified that she’s not, she’s just scared and upset with Courtney, but when you put those events so close together, it leads the reader to lump them together and get the impression that, you know, Sarah is a worse person than she is.

*Full count: Nicki (book 2), Chrissa (book 2), Kanani (2), McKenna (1 iirc?), Saige (both books), Grace (2), Lea (3), Gabriela (1 and 3), Tenney (2), Z (1), Blaire (1), Joss (1) and Kira (1).

It’s a bit weird, too, that Courtney’s... what’s the word? Vibe? with her how her story is written and marketed Is closer to the Contemporaries than the Historicals. Am I the only one feeling this? My best explanation for it is that the author, Kellen Hertz, had only written contemporary books for American Girl before- the third Lea Clark book and all four Tenney Grant books, both of which contained the Friendship Issues™ plot. I’m not at all saying she’s a bad author- I honestly love the way the Tenney books are written- and I’m not saying she couldn’t write a historical book, but it’s clear American Girl didn’t ask her to change up her style or content from what she’d done for them before, as well as giving her way too much to cover in such short books.

Conclusion

Honestly, this conclusion should be obvious- American Girl needs to expand their books again. Whether they simply allow the books to be unabridged, or go back to the six-book format, Courtney's books are too cramped to tell an effective story, let alone the poor abridged girls.

The other girls were given six-book length, so if they went back to that length or format, Courtney would have to be rewritten, at least a little- and that’s okay! There’s a lot of things that could use expansion or connection, such as her Summer trip with her Dad that was given basically one sentence in the text. Her growth with her stepfamily could be acknowledged- and honestly? I think that if these books were expanded, her mother’s mayoral arc should either continue through the books, or Maureen should become mayor before the book 2 arc. I’ve mentioned this before, but having Maureen as mayor (or even still a candidate) would put a lot of pressure on Courtney to be perfect so that nobody can say “look at how awful this woman is for doing politics instead of raising her family right”- which means that when the Isaac stuff happens, it has even more stakes for Courtney and her family. Does her Mom still support her with her own reputation on the line, and what does that say about Maureen’s character, how does it affect Courtney and the D’Amicos... that’s all fascinating stuff that was completely missed out on.

And if she was turned into a six-book format- honestly, here’s how I’d do it, just off the top of my head. It would involve a bit of event shuffling, but honestly I think it would work!

Meet Courtney - pretty much the setup for everything happening, her starting to get her Crystal Starshooter plans and her mom’s campaign beginning.

Courtney Learns a Lesson - her relationship to Tina, culminating in the Challenger incident.

Courtney’s Surprise - we move the founding of Pleasant Company over here, since Molly’s basically her Christmas Present. We’ll probably need an additional plotline- maybe similar to Julie, she can have a story on spending the holidays in different places.

Happy Birthday Courtney - end of summer, aka meeting Isaac and her trip with her Dad.

Courtney Saves the Day - Beginning of the HIV arc, ending at her presentation to her class.

Changes for Courtney - Continuation of the HIV arc as things get worse for her and Isaac, ending where Friendship Superhero ends.

Is that a perfect sorting? Probably not, I came up with it in ten minutes. But would it give Courtney space to breathe and more time to explore everything happening to her? Probably!

The tl;dr of this is honestly that American Girl are absolute cowards right now, and need to expand their books back. Their abridging is only harming their stories- which, as Courtney herself points out, are the reason girls got into their company in the first place.

Then Again, Chapter 25: A Small Dose of Parker Love

Summary: After an intense fight and a forced-to-share-the-bed situation during their junior year decathlon trip, Peter and the Reader examine their faults and failings. As they attempt to fix their mistakes and improve their friendship, that friendship quickly begins to evolve into something else. Betas: @fanboyswhereare-you and @girl-tips-from-satan Masterlist (with AO3 links)

Then Again, Chapter 25: A Small Dose of Parker Love

(Word count: 4,012) Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, 

“It’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” The thought of Peter making more of an effort, of him consciously choosing to pay me closer attention with the active intention of improving our friendship— it isn’t the worst idea. If anything, it’s a rather attractive solution to a nonexistent problem. The suggestion alone is already prompting imaginary scenarios I refuse to acknowledge right now; though, inevitably, they’ll become daydream fuel within a couple days. Still, the whole plan is unnecessary, and I know it. I’m not angry with him anymore. I may have a few questions (some I plan on asking, some I’ll keep to myself), but if I do have any hidden resentment for his behavior stowed away in my subconscious, it’s as small and inconsequential as a handful of sand in the sea. Allowing him to carry this plan out would be using him. The pretenses would be false. Even apart from that, though, his texts gave off an odd, metallic aftertaste. The proposal reads mechanically— it’s a scientific study with a simple hypothesis (and a reluctant dependent variable). It’s the idea of being a lab mouse, I think, that earns it the title the dumbest thing in my mind. It’s condescending. Even if tempting. Then again, I know Peter. I understand he doesn’t actually view me as a test subject to analyze and discard after the results come in. We’re friends. He feels bad and tossed out a poorly worded solution because he thinks I’m secretly pissed at him. It’s only an idea he offered, one I have full power to reject. Maybe I’m trying to dismiss it quickly because, if I’m being honest, I’m selfish. Incredibly selfish. I want to say yes despite knowing the sort of negative message it would send to Peter. A small part of me is willing to let him feel worse so I can pretend his own guilty feelings are more significant than they really are. The possibility, the mirage just within reach, of balancing that tightrope between reality and fantasy with him is... alluring, to say the least. And impossible. It would be wrong. Wouldn’t it? Of course it would.

Like blades slicing fruit in a blender, my brain whips through these thoughts within seconds. Across on her bed, Michelle’s expression can only be described as disapproving or faintly disgusted as she too digests Peter’s idea. It’s the male stupidity is endless look we share when near particularly annoying men in public. It’s not often one we have to exchange in reference to the boys; their moronic moments tend to be entertaining rather than obnoxious, ignorant, or misogynistic. She meets my eyes, and I wonder if my face gives anything away. “That feels weird to me.” The sentence is a verbal tiptoe forward, an almost-question probe. “It did sound weird saying it out loud,” I agree. “You know,” she says, her tone mildly serious as she sits up straighter. “You’re not obligated to say yes to everything because you don’t want to disappoint someone. Especially a boy. And especially if he’s trying to fix his dumb mistakes by pressuring you into something you’re not comfortable with.” She pauses, glancing at the ceiling and raising an eyebrow. “If you want, I can make him come to his senses.” Michelle tightens her fists and mimes three exaggerated punches. I imagine it, amused: Before the bite, Peter wouldn’t have stood a chance against her if she really meant it; now, he’d probably put his arms up to block her blows, barely annoyed, and wait for her to tire herself out. I roll my eyes and can’t help mirroring her smile. Nevertheless, her wording is…. The same question pops up for the millionth time. Do I want her to know? Should I tell her? “It’s Peter, it’s not, like, ‘a boy,’” I say first, air quoting the last words. No, not yet. Maybe later. For now, I’ll avoid it. “And I’ll pass, but I appreciate the offer. I’m not uncomfortable and he isn’t being pushy or anything. I only meant that the…” nearly impersonal approach to our personal relationship? “the hyper-conscious wording is weird. I wouldn’t turn down free snacks if the offer wasn’t described as a….” situation in which he views us as mere associates or abstract friends— Again, I remind myself he probably doesn’t see it that way. “Monitored social experiment with unequal power dynamics?” she offers. That fits. “Precisely.” She snorts. Shaking her head, Michelle pauses for a few more seconds. Mentally chewing it all over again, her expression bounces from annoyance to curiosity to neutrality to annoyance again to what looks surprisingly close to compromise or understanding. In the meantime, I focus on watching her facial journey and not thinking. In the tune of surrender, she sighs before she speaks. “I’m sure he’s trying his best,” she says reluctantly, her hands opening outward like a shrug, “his best is just bad. If it were anyone else, I’d tell you to refuse and block them. But, as much as it pains me to admit, I think we both know him too well to think his motives are as stupid as his phrasing. If anything, he’s probably excited about his ‘new genius friendship plan.’” Nodding, relief hums under my skin: she’s right. I mean, how many people would fight crime to protect strangers in their city, then turn around and have cold, detached views of their chosen, personal friends? “That’s true,” I say. “I should probably text him back, then.” She holds up a finger as I reach for my phone. “Still,” she adds with a tone of subtle authority, “it’s up to you. I’m not saying you should say yes — no obligations, remember? — I just don’t think you need to worry that he isn’t trying or isn’t being genuine. That’s all.” “Yeah, I know.” Michelle’s stare lasts a moment longer, her sincerity as visible and certain as the brown of her eyes. After a second or two, she sits back onto her pillows and relaxes, turning to face the t.v. once again, leaving me to work out my final decision on my own. As I allow myself to reiterate my own arguments in my head, the Cullen family discusses the mythology of half human, half vampire fetuses with Jacob. It doesn’t take me long to reach a conclusion. Maybe it’s because I’m pretty tired, but the answer seems obvious,

straightforward and simple in logic. I unlock my phone with the feeling Michelle knows exactly what I’m about to type. I begin to write the message I had settled on before: “I’ll think about it.” Simple and honest. And temporary. But then something else pops into my brain, and, foolishly, I write that instead. “What about you? Do you need new reasons to be around me?” I send the text without a moment’s reflection. Rereading it, it sounds a little… coded, to say the least. Like a Freudian slip. Don’t overthink it. God, I hate Freud. But it does sound desperate. And awkward. Damn. It definitely does. It reminds me of the embarrassing things I used to post on social media in middle school, which I really shouldn’t think about either. I only wondered if the idea should go both ways. Instead, the message sounds insecure... which I am, I suppose, but he doesn’t need to know that. Bubbles appear on his side. I resist the urge to send a series of backpedaling messages. They disappear. Again. My self control dissipates and I quickly send the original one: I’ll think about it. Unthinking, I pull the small keychain out of my pocket as I wait for his reply and massage the edge. Sticking the pointed corner into my thumbpad, I accidentally dig it in harder than intended. And I realize something. The keychain was the first. The gifts or incentives or things. A flat click of a nearby door closing snaps my attention. The boys’ room? Glancing up, I see a flash of Edward pleading with Jacob on the t.v. screen, and to my left, a shadow stepping up to the door. A gap in the golden line of outside light. For half a minute, nothing happens. Aside from Rosalie shouldering past Jacob as he walks in to speak to Bella. After that, when it does come, the sound is soft. Knock. Knock knock knock knock, knock knock. It’s Peter. Ned’s knocking pattern is shorter. The sound is like a phantom defibrillator to the heart. Michelle’s head rolls to one side to stare at the hallway, her shoulders slumped in an I’m giving up posture. “That’s very obviously for you,” she says, pushing herself up and tossing the Twizzler bag on the nightstand, “so I’ll let you go deal with it. I think I’ll brush my teeth and get ready for bed.” She hops off the mattress, raises her arms, and stretches them from side to side. “You okay if we call it a night?” “More than okay,” I say, standing up as well, the carpet cool under my toes. Once I speak to Peter, I’ll need to knock out. Otherwise my brain will spiral. And maybe, if all goes well, my dreams tonight will be better than staying up to snicker at this hilariously shitty movie. “But what if it is for you?” She rolls her eyes. “Tell them I’m gone. Missing, dead, whatever.” Michelle clamps her eyes shut and sticks her tongue out to mimic cartoonish death. Then she pops back to life with a fake warning glare. “So long as no one bothers me.” She hits the off button on the remote, Jacob and Bella dissolving into nothing, and as she trudges to the bathroom, I slip the keychain and a keycard back into my pocket before copying her arm stretch to calm my buzzing nerves. Michelle salutes me before turning and closing the bathroom door. I walk to the hallway’s. The handle is cold to the touch. I swing it open. As expected: Peter. The empty space surrounding him is relatively quiet, only muffled laughter and television sounds coming from rooms at the opposite end. The air smells like linens, cleaning supplies, and artificial lavender. This too is as expected: the typical, sanitary comfort of staying in a nice hotel at night. I tell myself it’s a calming environment. Peter’s in his usual pajamas, an old beat up t-shirt and sweatpants, standing slightly to the left, hands clasped in front of him. His height drops a tiny bit at the sound of the door, like he was rocking from heel to toe a second ago, and as his eyes lift from the floor to meet mine, he smiles. A warm swooping sensation envelops my stomach. “Hey! You answered.” He almost sounds surprised. I make a face in response. “You thought I wouldn’t?” I mean

this as a joke, a reference to the couple late nights he’s shown up at my door (window, really) to clean or patch himself up before going home. As he knows, I’m not in the habit of shutting him out. Still, his head tilts and his eyebrows go up into an expression of, Well, you weren’t exactly answering me before. It isn’t a challenging or upset look. If anything, it’s almost flustered. “Fair enough,” I concede, lukewarm guilt sticking in my throat. “I was thinking about it though, I promise, I just hadn’t decided for sure yet.” He nods, fidgeting with his fingernails and glancing at the floor. “Yeah, I get that,” he says, looking back up. His ears redden. “I, uh, phrased it pretty moronically. Or at least that’s what Ned said.” He takes a step or two back, closer to his door. It seems like an invitation to make the conversation more private, so I close mine and Michelle’s and step forward. “All I meant,” he continues, his hands rolling over one another in gesture, “was that I thought it might be helpful if I did a few nice things for you when we get back. Not like I’m actually trying to condition you, like a, like a—” “Dog?” His hands halt and his face pinches into an expression that practically reads I am painfully aware of every mistake I have ever made and how the number continues to grow in marker across his forehead. His eyes retain a lightness though, the sort that suggests he’s able to laugh about it. He runs his right hand through his hair. Mine twinges. “Exactly. I feel like that makes it seem kind of, um—” “Bad?” “Very bad,” he confirms, nodding. He takes a deeper breath, half-smiling in an embarrassed, self pitying way. “I honestly forgot about that Pavlock stuff, I was just trying to use psych terms to make it sound more persuasive and, um, I don’t know, impressive?” He shrugs and offers an I know I’m an idiot, but thank you for being patient smile. I bite my tongue against correcting Pavlov, which he seems incapable of pronouncing properly. Even when we studied for that exam, he only said it properly a handful of times, despite Michelle flicking bits of paper at him each time he said Pavlock. I smile too, noting the irony. And I think of what she said: he’s trying his best, his best is just bad. It doesn’t seem so bad when he’s standing in front of me, though. If anything, it’s easy. “You mean,” I begin to ask, more to tease than to clarify, “as opposed to the highly offensive and much more disagreeable, ‘Hey, I want to make up for being a jerk, so I’m going to stash some snacks for you in my locker’?” He bites his lip as if it’ll keep his grin pinned down, but it doesn’t. A blush spreads across his cheekbones and for a split second, he looks away to the other end of the hall. When he looks back, his smile falters, just a little. The vulnerability reminds me of his apology last night, when he thought I was sleeping. “I was thinking maybe it’d be more than snacks?” he offers. “Like, I don’t know, I don’t really have it figured out yet, but hanging out a bit more? Movie nights and that sort of thing? Or if you have a lot of homework, we could study together and help each other stay focused?” That last suggestion seems like an oxymoron. Study together to keep ourselves on track? It’s a laughable concept. Well, only if it’s— “Just us?” Peter freezes, his shoulders straightening slightly, his height rising a few millimeters. That is the central question, though. Whether it’s a positive or negative point toward my decision, I can’t tell. All the same, it’s been ages since we last tried studying together, just the two of us. It works best with Michelle and Ned there as well, seeing as we tend to get distracted. His eyes move quickly between mine as if he’s trying to read my thoughts before answering. He squints. “Is that okay?” he asks, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “I understand if not, if it’s uncomfortable or—” I shake my head, putting my hand on his arm to stop him, only realizing it when his eyes flicker to that hand. “Of course not,” I say, removing it. “I mean, of

course it’s okay. We’ve hung out without Ned and MJ tons of times before. It’s been a while but it’s no big deal. That’d be fine.” “Okay, good!” he says, the tension in his body evaporating. “That’s great!” His eyes have lit up. I imagine he’s relieved those two won’t be around the whole time to make fun of his movie choices or whatever he has planned. I try to hold a smile to reassure him and clear his doubts while internally pinching myself to remember to not think too much on this. There’s no need to dust off those old, useless daydreams of movie nights and falling asleep on his shoulder with his head atop mine and May lightly laying a blanket across us and all the rest. Absolutely no need. Shut it down. He runs a hand through his hair, nodding in a way that’s usually accompanied by him saying cool, cool, cool, cool. “Would Fridays be good for movie nights?” I barely register the question before I answer it. “Probably, sure. That should be alright.” His smile widens and he shakes his head once and continues nodding. “Perfect! We can have it at my place.” I nod back, chest tightening as I process. At the same time, I beg my brain not to process. Just for a minute. But then, since I refuse to let them move forward, the gears in my head turn backward, thoughts reeling like a bicycle chain. Judging by the look on Peter’s face, we’re realizing the same thing. “Wait,” he says carefully. “So you’re saying yes? Like, you’re cool with it? You wanna give it a try?” God help me. “I suppose so,” I say. At hearing my own answer, a different type of swooping feeling runs from my feet up. The looking over a high balcony type. “And we’ll figure the rest out later?” he asks. “Peter, really, if you’re still planning on the locker snacks, that’s more than enough.” He laughs. “Yeah, that’s what you think because you’re being lame. And self-limiting. And—” “Leaving?” It’s time, definitely. I’d forgotten how blinding Peter’s excitement and positivity can be without interference. Today has been full enough, I should end this now. “That’s fair,” he says. “I think Ned rubbed off on me. All that obnoxious energy.” He shakes his whole body as if ridding himself of said energy and I restrain myself from making a joke about his word choice. Instead, I nod and with an exasperated “Night, Peter,” and step back toward my room. He does the same, heading toward his. Just as he lifts up his keycard, he pivots back. “Wait! I almost forgot.” I turn around and he’s closer than before. Peter suddenly looks particularly nervous, his head angled to the side like a question, his hands fumbling over themselves. His cheeks are reddening again too, spreading from his cheeks to his hairline. “Yeah?” He steps forward to place himself directly in front of me. His eyes flit a quick path which his hands follow— they reach out to touch my elbows before jumping up to my shoulders, settling there almost steadily before shooting a little higher to suddenly but gently hold my head. And then he leans over and firmly kisses my forehead. As he pulls away, one hand disappears and the other musses up my hair. What is he—? We both take a tiny step back. My pulse pounds as my thoughts blur into nothing but impressions of nonsensical, ridiculous questions my brain won’t dignify with clarity. Peter’s expression is halfway between an apology and.. a dare? His eyes are as wide as I know mine must be, but there’s something playing at his lips. For a second, it feels as though we’re balanced on a challenge neither of us is willing to answer. The bubble of the moment pops as he shakes his head and gestures vaguely to his and Ned’s room, his floundering arm movements returning him to the strong appearance of embarrassment. “May,” he blurts, “Aunt May threatened to, uh, um, well, that part’s not really important, if I didn’t pass that along with ‘all her love.’” The red in his face deepens. “Apparently she’s not too happy I didn’t do that last night too.” Of course. It makes immediate sense. The memory rushes back. She told him to do that to all of us when

she dropped us off at the bus that morning. I’d laugh at my own stupid shock and poor memory but I can’t seem to manage it. “Do you want me to get MJ too?” I ask, realizing May likely demanded that he make the rounds. Maybe this is what started that play fight between him and Ned tonight. Either Ned dodged it or made a joke about wishing May were there to do it herself. It clicks together. “What?” He looks lost, his head tilted to the side, brow knotted up. “What do you mean?” “Unless— do you want me to pass it along from May?” The realization hits across his face. He shakes his head rapidly. “No, no, no, she’d probably kill me if I tried to do that to her. But, I mean, if you want to pass it along— or just tell her to lie if May asks. She probably won’t, honestly, but, you know, just in case.” His shrug and half smile are practically helpless. May ought to have more mercy on him. And me. “Alright.” A grin breaks over my face in a way I don’t quite understand and can’t stop. “I’ll see you in the morning then.” “Right. Goodnight, then. See you in the morning.” “Night, Peter.” Rather than stepping back, as intended though, I rush forward. Involuntarily, or at least I’ll pretend, since it’s just as surprising to me as it is to him, I lean forward and kiss his cheek. Or try to. It happens too quickly to register fully, but I’m almost positive I knick the corner of his mouth? That would definitely be unintentional. “ThatwasforMay,” I explain, stumbling backward. Seeming to sense it, Peter grabs my arm to steady me before I trip outright. He releases his grip and stares, stunned. If I thought his eyes were wide earlier, it turns out they can open much wider. His pupils are comically blown open. “What?” he asks, seeming concerned. “What was that? I, uh, I didn’t catch what you said.” “That was, um, that was for May. You know, in exchange.” That’s perfect. For the first time in a while, my brain saves me. Then a joke comes to me. “I’ve just been waiting so long to do that, I figured I should take the opportunity to practice. You know that song ‘Stacey’s Mom’? I’ve been writing my own verses for ‘Peter’s Aunt,’ but the lyrics aren’t as catchy.” His face, though still flushed red, relaxes. “Get outta here,” he laughs with a wave of his hand. “You’re as bad as Ned, I can’t believe you went there.” His facial muscles twitch as if he’s glitching between bewilderment, amusement, and a flint of mischief. “Oh, come on,” I say, “You know everyone in Queens has a crush on May, including us.” He shakes his head. “Nope. Minus five points!” “Then minus ten points for your lame attitude” I say— and before he can come up with a retort, “Goodnight!” He grins as near as he ever gets to a smirk (a term I associate too closely to ass-hattery to assign to him) and I turn to my room as he repeats it back. We both step to our doors and open them. I glance back just in time to see him practically jump into his room with a speed that reminds me he’s a superhero, even if he’s an idiot. Filled with tangled emotions, I pause, listening or waiting or catching my breath. I only need a moment. Behind his and Ned’s door, there’s a sudden crash, a sound like leaping bedsprings and something smashing, immediately followed by Peter groaning and Ned’s mocking laughter. Right before I go to my own room, I hear Peter’s exasperated voice: “Shit! Dude, can you help me fix it?” The room is dark when I slip back inside but the alarm clock shines enough red to see vague outlines of the walls and dressers and beds. Legs slightly numb, I stumble my way to the small bathroom to get ready for bed. It only takes a couple minutes, distracted as I am. I slip into the blankets of my bed. The warm body heat next to me can only mean one thing: Michelle. I move closer and wrap my arms around her. It’s just one of those unspoken things. Next chapter

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Black Waltz [1/2]

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 [Finale]

➜ Words: 13.2k

➜ Genres: 70% Fluff, 30% Angst, Butler!AU

➜ Summary: When your parents pass away in an accident, a family secret is revealed. The only person you can trust and rely on is your personal butler, Kim Taehyung.

The caskets are small.   You’re not sure why but you always imagined that they’d be bigger. The undertaker already reassured you thrice that the bodies of your parents fit perfectly. Perhaps they were always that small.   “Poor girl.” Someone murmurs in the corner, not realizing that you can hear above the discordant sobs. “She’s already such a weak child. How will she handle this?”   “How do you suppose?” a man replies in a sharp mutter. “She’s just become one of the richest people in Trulia overnight. Look at this entire estate. All thanks to her father’s watch business.”   “Will you have more delicacy?” she bites back in a whisper. “A man and woman just died.”   You don’t bother looking at them. You don't cry either.    Not a single tear sheds down your cheeks as you look through your netted veil to the closed coffins belonging to your parents. Even the gardener is sobbing into his hat, but you don’t.    Your expression remains stoic.   A man approaches, dark hair and darker suit. He bows his head towards the caskets and then turns to you standing by. You recognize him the few times you saw him in passing. He’s your father’s worker, Yoongi. “My condolences, Miss Y/N.”   “Thank you.”   “Your father was a great man. It was a privilege to work under his guidance. I’m sorry this happened.”   You nod and he takes that you don’t want to extend the conversation and leaves you be.    It was an unfortunate accident. More specifically, a railroad accident. It claimed the lives of many and that also included your parents coming home from a trip to Germany.   “Eugene!” Suddenly, Uncle Seokjin throws himself over the casket. A few distraught folks try to pull him back, but he continues to howl, “How could you leave your only brother like this!”    Aunt Marie cries louder into her handkerchief.   It’s noisy.   In the midst of the ruckus, the corner of your eye catches an older man with brunette hair. The wrinkles crease around his eyes with his sorrowful expression and he takes off his top hat as he approaches. You watch as he places a rose in front of your mother’s casket and then he turns to leave without addressing you.   “Oh, Y/N!” Your attention is ripped away by your hysterically sobbing uncle grabbing your hands. “Poor Y/N!”   Someone takes him away before you get the chance to shove him off.   //   Everyone gathers in the dining room not even a full day after the funeral.   The wallpaper is dark, black trim that matches the hardwood. The long table is mahogany and there’s an unnecessary golden chandelier hanging from the ceiling. You’ve always hated this room and its decorations, especially the heavy curtains that block out the sunlight.   “Y/N!” Your uncle draws out your name and smiles widely as he comes before you with open arms. He gives you a quick squeeze much to your dismay and then lets go. The middle-aged man searches your expression. “My favourite niece.”   “I’m your only niece.”   “Which makes you even more special to me.” His words are sweet. He shakes his head. “What did you ever do to deserve this?”   You wonder the same thing.   Aunt Marie clears her throat and Uncle Seokjin flounders. “Right, right, we should take our seats.”   Your eyes lift to your cousin who smiles at you, dressed in a navy frock coat with an ascot tie. “It’s been a while, Y/N. I didn’t think you’d notice but I was greeting guests at the funer—”   “I noticed.”   You cut Hoseok off mid-sentence with his mouth still open. Aunt Marie chastised him under her breath to sit down and at the same time, the family lawyer enters with his briefcase. He’s been working with your family before you were even born. You could feel his sincerity when he spoke at the memorial.   “Good evening everyone. Y/N.” Mr. Kim — Namjoon as your parents familiarly called him — nods at you in sympathetic acknowledgment and takes his place at the head of the table where your father once sat. He reaches for his briefcase and opens it up for a sealed envelope inside. “I never thought there would be a day like this. Most unfortunate indeed.”   “A heartbreaking tragedy,” Aunt Marie agrees.   “But no time like the present for us to fulfill their last wishes.” Mr. Kim slips out the crisp papers and then his eyes flicker up at you. You subtly motion to him that you’re ready for it to be read and he clears his throat.   Your relatives are sitting on the edge of the seats, hands clasped on the table in anticipation.   “I, Arden Eugene, resident in the City of Lennox, Country of Trulia, being of sound mind, declare this to be my Last Will and Testament, hereby revoking all prior wills and codicils made by me. I appoint my wife, Arden Hana, to inherit all my assets.”   The lawyer continues, “In the event where my wife is unable to inherit...all my assets, including the investments, savings and the estate, liquid and otherwise, I leave my daughter, Arden Y/N, in their entirety.”   Your aunt’s jaw ticks, your uncle has a face of disgust and your cousin’s jaw has dropped.   You’re not sure why they’re so offended. It’s not a surprise. This is what you expected.   That is until Mr. Kim adds the word— “temporarily.”   Your head turns. The lawyer’s mouth continues to move.   “Until the date and time when her half-sibling will be found.”    You’re not sure what happens first. The gasps echoing in your ears, Aunt Marie nearly falling off her seat in laughter, your uncle standing up from his spot, or your own heartbeat thundering in your ears as blood drains from your face. You feel ill, like you might throw up right on the table.   A half-sibling. Another child. There was another child all along.    “—to which ownership of all asserts will thereby be shifted onto them.”   “What is the meaning of this?!” Uncle Seokjin protests. “What child?!”   “I’m sorry, Mr. Arden. I only know as much as you do.” Mr. Kim’s eyes place on you before he resumes reading. “I give my daughter, Arden Y/N, a pocket watch.”   The amused snicker of your aunt is all too clear.   A small box is placed in front of you. It’s the size of your hand, a deep wine red. For a moment, you want to huck it on the floor, but with your breath held in your throat, you nudge the lid open. It’s a perfectly round contraption, the cover golden and perfectly polished, reflecting against the candlelight. You flip it open to find handles ticking away as seconds and minutes pass.   “To my brother, Seokjin, my sister, Marie, and her son, Hoseok, I wish them the very best in the rest of their lives.”   Aunt Marie scoffs. Uncle Seokjin collapses back onto his seat.   The will is finished being read and the paper is folded. The room is full of a tense silence as you stare at the watch. Mr. Kim clears his throat again. “As you are aware of the laws, Y/N, all assets are entitled to you temporarily. But as you have no husband to collect the inheritance, it makes things a bit more complicated. You may still live at this estate and continue the company, but you cannot alter it in any way. That includes liquidating, removing, expanding, or withdrawing. You do not have the jurisdiction to alter the company or any of the investments either.”   Everything is essentially frozen. They left you with nothing.   “Yes.” The corner of Aunt Marie’s lip curls and she sits back. “Even if you are twenty one, you need a husband to own land and wealth. Trulia’s quite old-fashioned, isn’t it?”   Trulia — a small country that bridges France and England together, cutting the English channel into half. You’ve lived here all your life, born and raised, and never hated it more.   “Y/N.” Hoseok breaks your train of thought and you look him in the eyes. Your expression remains impassive. “Did you know you had a sibling?”   You hate it all.   //   The bedroom is shrouded in darkness as you sit back in the armchair.    You’re loosely holding the cold, golden chain of the pocket watch, studying it as it swings back and forth. It’s like a clam, but without any engravings, designs or even ridges on the surface. It’s heavy, perfectly new and polished, the time precise. When both handles of the pocket watch come to twelve, the grandfather clock from downstairs chimes throughout the mansion.   Your other hand crumples into a fist and with a strangled cry in your throat, you hurl the pocket watch across the room with all your might. It clatters to the ground, ear-splitting.   A figure emerges from the shadows, leans down and picks it up with his white gloves.   “Madam, are you not well?”   “Don’t call me madam,” you snap at him.   Taehyung comes closer, his dark hair slicked back, dressed in the usual black tailcoat and trousers. His smile is tender. “You are the head of the household now.”   Arm propped up on the armrest, you press your hand to your forehead. “It makes me feel old.”   “Then I won’t, my lady. I apologize.” He places the pocket watch on the vanity table and comes to your side.   You look up at him, wondering if you look as bitter as you feel. “Even when they’re dead, they have to have the last laugh, Taehyung. They spared me nothing.” Your eyes sting painfully, the lump at the bottom of your throat aching. Anger has coloured your vision red. You’re so full of hate, but you wonder why most of all, it hurts. “I can’t believe my parents didn’t love me even after their death.”   Taehyung kneels and takes your hands that are crumpled hard enough that your nails sink into your skin. He earnestly gazes at you. “You have me. I’ll be with you until the end.”   He promises it rather recklessly. But he’s more than just your butler. More than just a worker in this house. He’s been a friend since childhood. The only one you can fully trust.   Taehyung’s expression softens even more and he reaches out. He hugs you, propping your chin on his shoulder, placing his arms around your back. “You can cry.”   You scoff. “You’re stepping over the line.”   “Then discipline me.”   You bite the inside of your cheek, vision becomes foggy as tears hang onto your lash line. “Why should I cry for those people? If...if anything, I should cry for my own circumstances.”   Taehyung smiles. “Cry then.”   For the first time, you let go. You sob into his shoulder, grasp his coat with tight fingers, allowing yourself to be at grief’s mercy. Wails choke out of your chest and the thick lump finally escapes your throat, leaving it raw and aching in a different way. The tears stain a path down from your welling eyes to your cheeks and then Taehyung’s shoulder like a chilling rainstorm.   It feels like minutes tick away until you’ve cried yourself to exhaustion.   By then, you’re so weak and you can barely open your swollen eyes. But Taehyung guides you to bed and pulls the covers. He tucks you in, making sure you’re warm. “Get some sleep.”   You nod and he extinguishes the flame in the oil lamp.    Sleep comes easier than you expect.   //   When dawn arrives, the light of the sun comes through the white curtains to cast against your eyes. You stir uncomfortably before your lids flutter open. The world is bleary in your fogged vision and your body is heavy. You don’t want to get up, but you have to.   “Good morning, mistress.” Taehyung enters, dressed in his black trousers and tailcoat with a white waistcoat underneath. His hair is pushed back in a windswept look. He sets down the golden tray balancing a water bowl and cloth. “Glad to see you’re already awake.”   “Couldn’t sleep more if I wanted to.” You round the bed and collect the water to wash your face before pressing the cloth to your skin.   Taehyung steps towards your wardrobe. “Would you like me to replace the curtains?”   “It’s fine. I don’t want to wear anything too restricting today.”   He hums. “Then will an aesthetic dress do? Green?”   “Is there a dark blue?”    Taehyung swiftly takes out a simple gown, cut loosely with a few frills at the neckline and a red, ribbon sash around the waist. The shade is a midnight blue and perfectly to your tastes as if he read your mind. It’s without any restrictive corset too. Heaven knows today is going to be suffocating enough, you don’t need to make it more difficult for yourself.   You stand in front of the three panel mirror folded into a nook and lift your arms up. Without batting a single lash or looking twice, Taehyung undresses you from the silk sleepwear and helps you into the camisole before draping the dress over your figure.   You sit at the vanity and he gently brushes out your hair. “Taehyung.”   “Yes, my lady?”   You look at him through the mirror. “Do you think I can do this?”   His eyes flicker up and he smiles. “Of course you can.”   “What if they don’t find me intimidating enough?”   “Then I’ll stand beside you and help you with that.”   What he says has you bursting out in laughter. You spin around in your seat, and Taehyung’s completely unsuspecting when you squeeze his cheeks together. His rounded eyes blink and his lips mimic a fish’s. It makes you grin. “You’re more of a puppy than a guard dog.”   But well, you suppose it’s not important what the truth is. The illusion is what matters most.   He pins half of your hair up and you barely powder your face before you’re leaving for the family meeting. On the way, you brace yourself, only temporarily interrupted by the gardener, Park Jimin, a man who’s been working on the estate for the past three years. He takes care of the garden well, better than your mother ever could. Her roses always withered. He, on the other hand, has quite the green thumb.   “Good morning, madam.” Jimin greets you merrily.   “Good morning, Jimin.” You slow in the entrance hall and Taehyung behind you does as well. “I hope you and the others are doing well. Thank you for still being here.”   The young male blushes. “We’re just doing our jobs, ma’am. You already gave us a whole week’s break which we’re more than thankful for. We just had to come back for the funeral to honour Mr. and Mrs. Arden. So there’s no need to worry about us.”   “I’m glad then.” Your smile eases. “Please continue, don’t let me stop you.”   He nods and goes on his way.   The moment Jimin’s gone, your expression hardens as you enter the main lounge area.   There your uncle, aunt, and cousin are seated around and you recognize your father’s worker, Yoongi as well. You’re not sure since when this house became a guest home where anyone can enter and loiter in as they please. You’ll have to have a word with Taehyung later.    “Y/N! My dear niece!” Uncle Seokjin’s loud and he stands from the armchair with an enormous smile that looks like it’s about to break his face. At that, everyone’s head swivels around.    Yoongi slowly rises from his seat as well.    But your uncle continues, “I hope you had a good sleep. I could barely get a wink thinking about your father and our happy days. Speaking of which, I was thinking about how empty this house will be with your parents gone. Isn’t it time for you to get married? You’ve been of age for a while. I happen to know this very kind young man from England. His name is Mark. I’d be happy to introduce—”   “Uncle Seokjin.” You stop him. “I’d rather not have you speak about my private affairs in front of a stranger.”   His pupils flicker to Yoongi and his mouth closes with a smile. “Right.”   You turn to said man and he nods his head in acknowledgment. “Would you like to have tea in the parlor?”   “No, this will only take a moment. I’m sure you’re already busy. My apologies for coming unannounced.”   “It’s not a problem. What is this about?”   “Your father’s company,” Yoongi says. “There is a client waiting for a shipment and since we closed we’ve been unable to finish the order. Would you like to refuse it?”   “No. It’s fine.” You hold in your sigh and press your finger against your forehead for a moment. Then, you come to a decision. “You may continue and run business as usual. You may act as the temporary lead, Min Yoongi.”   At the announcement, Hoseok rushes upwards with his jaw gone slack. “I could!” Heads turn towards him. “I-If you need me to! I could take over! T-Temporarily, of course!”   Your eyes narrow into your cousin, your expression cold. “There’s no need, Hoseok. I’m sure Mr. Min here will already have his hands full. There'll be no time to properly train you and no way you could take over.”   “But—!”   You ignore him to address your father’s right hand. You’re not sure if this is the right decision, but Yoongi comes across as sensible and rational. He doesn’t seem to have any malicious intention or ulterior motives either. At least your father trusted him, so you will too. “I’ll take a look at the finances and figure out the details soon enough of where the company will move forward from now on. But for now, I will entrust you to it. Please proceed as you normally would.”   Yoongi nods. “Thank you, Miss Y/N.”   You shift on your feet and look to your butler whose height towers your own. “Taehyung, can you please see Mr. Min out?”   He puts his gloved hand over his heart and bows. “Certainly.”   The two men leave the room while your cousin crosses his arms and drops back down into the sofa with a displeased face.   Aunt Marie’s eyes are narrowed in on you and she sighs, shaking her head. She comments, “You’re quite close with that butler of yours, Y/N. A bit too close, if you ask me.”   Your brow cocks. “You don’t have any authority in this household to make such comments, Aunt Marie.”   “I am merely looking out for you, Y/N,” she quips with an underlying sharpness to it. “You never know what rumours can get out and they can get quite nasty. It wouldn’t do you any good to be in a scandal. It’s best if you weren’t so close to the such lowly—”   “I choose who I want to affiliate myself with.” Your voice booms throughout the room, unknowing to how Taehyung’s already returned and that he’s standing just outside of the room. “Taehyung is my most trusted confidant. To insult my personal aid is to insult my choices and thereby, me. From now on, I will not take such things lightly.”   Aunt Marie shuffles back with a cough and the room’s swept into an uncomfortable silence.   Taehyung smiles to himself and notices a timid maid rolling a cart down the hall towards the room. He takes over and dismisses her to which she’s grateful for, knowing the room is tense. But Taehyung is unaffected as he enters with an exaggeratedly cordial expression. He places down a cake stand of pastries on the table, then the teacups.   “There, there. Let’s not get so upset in the morning.” Your uncle sits down and you find your place in front of the fireplace and the imposing family portrait above the mantle. In the meanwhile, Taehyung pours the tea with one hand in front of him. It’s earl grey, your favourite.   You sip it warmly while your expression remains stoic.   Uncle Seokjin clears his throat. “Your cousin, aunt and I have been discussing, Y/N—”   “And?”   He smiles. “We think it’s best if we...join forces.”   The tea is no longer pleasant on your palate, so you set it down on the porcelain saucer. “How so?”   “Well….”   “We don’t know who this half sibling of yours is, Y/N,” your aunt cuts to the chase. “Who knows who they could be or what they would want with us! It is simply outrageous that an outsider could come and collect everything that your parents have worked so hard for and take everything away. Your father clearly had some misunderstandings when he gave us nothing and you so little. I believe he must not have been well when he wrote that will. There must be some mistake.”   Uncle Seokjin nods and Hoseok finds the opportunity to jump in. “I have a friend who’s working in law. There must be ways we can challenge the will or at least find a way to claim back what should be rightfully ours!”   ‘Rightfully ours’.   You want to laugh. “So you want to sneak the money away?”   “You shouldn’t put it that way.” Your uncle laughs heartily. “It’s more like making a wrong a right!”   “Yes!” Hoseok enthusiastically nods. “We can’t just let someone else steal it, Y/N! What if tomorrow someone comes knocking on the door claiming to be your brother or sister, and they want to take everything away?”   Aunt Marie offers a smile. “It’s best if we work together on this matter.”    Taehyung steps behind you, shadowing your form as your relatives look at you expectedly. They have a point, but you’re not at all tempted by their most generous offer. “No.”   “Pardon?”   “I said no.” Your arms cross and you sit back. “Everything is already in my name, the estate, the investments, the company, albeit temporarily, but I’ll figure out what is to come on my own.”   Hoseok’s mouth draws open. Your uncle is unable to muster a rebuttal.    You scoff, rolling your eyes as if their very proposition is ridiculous. It’s too easy to play the villain — and it’s the only way you know how to protect yourself. “And why should I have to accept your help and have to split up my parents’ wealth when I can take it all for myself.”   “Why you!” Aunt Marie stands up, face reddened. “Ingrate!”   Her hand raises, arm extending back. But before she can slap you like she wants and knock your head to the side, Taehyung snatches her wrist. He’s faster than anyone can blink and he clutches her back, glare boring into her skin.   Her teeth grit and she rips back her hand to her chest.   You rise to your feet, eyes placed at the god awful antique cabinet on the other side of the room. “If that’s all everyone wants to say, then you can leave now. Thank you for coming to the funeral but from now on, none of you have permission to enter this estate until I announce otherwise.”   Your aunt scoffs and with her remaining pride, she stomps out. Hoseok’s brows are knitted together at a loss while your uncle is already trying to reason with you. But you leave through the doorway and allow Taehyung to take care of the rest.   //   The streets are full in the afternoon bustle — hooves clacking as horses pull the street car, ladies with parasols giggling as they cross, shouting coming from the tenement windows above, wheels of the carriages rolling along the dirt. It’s the symphony of the city. But he leaves it all behind for a short carriage ride away.   It’s a short uphill climb on foot that follows, but he swiftly gets to the magnificent mansion on a stretch of green behind black gates. It’s quaint here.   A girl in a maid ensemble scurries over and opens up the gates for him. “Right this way.”   The man is led up the path and he removes his top hat as he enters.   The manor is darker on the inside, the wallpaper a deep shade, black trim matching the hardwood. He knows every inch of this place is ridden with wealth, from the chandeliers, the ornate carpet underneath his feet to the glass cabinets full of antiques. It’s old money that will last for centuries.   But he doesn’t get to admire it for too long. A taller man with slicked back hair wearing a black tailcoat approaches. “If you’d follow me, sir.”   He nods and silently shadows the butler to the west wing. They twist down the corridor before turning a left to two large doors. The butler opens them and he hesitantly enters after.   There’s a figure behind the desk at the very back wall, an inked pen in her hand. He muses that the lady looks much too young to be residing so deep inside of this mansion surrounded in papers in the low lighting. She might be even younger than himself.   “Taehyung, stay.” You mutter out of the corner of your mouth before he can leave.   The doors shut and you finally look up as Taehyung takes his place beside you.   “You are Detective Jeon?”   He has brunette hair and brightened doe eyes, rather boyish looks overall. But you know better than to underestimate anyone simply based on appearances.   “Yes, ma’am. I am Jeon Jungkook from the Bennett Detective Agency.” He comes up to you with his briefcase in hand and gingerly places a business card on the desk. “I believe you contacted me for a private investigation.”   “Yes. I did.” You stand, going to the seating area and he follows suit. “Would you like tea?”   “No, ma’am. I’m fine, but thank you very much.”   You nod, noticing how Detective Jeon’s eyes flicker to Taehyung who comes to pour your cup.   He finally asks, “How may I be of service?”   You take a sip, savouring the flavour on your palate before placing the floral porcelain cup down. Your expression is indifferent as you sit back. “As you may have heard, my father and mother recently passed away in a railway accident.”   “I read it from the newspaper. My condolences. Your father was a very charitable man and did a lot for Trulia.”   “Yes, well, they left behind a will and revealed that I happen to have a half-sibling that is to inherit this estate.” It goes silent. A pin could drop in the room and echo. You inhale a breath and continue, “I want you to find this sibling of mine and tell me who they are, where they are, and what they’re doing. If you can do it, I’ll pay you a generous sum. However much you want. However long it takes.”   Detective Jeon nods. He doesn’t seem too surprised or curious. You suppose he must be used to this sort of thing in his line of work.   It was through your connections that you found him. He’s an upcoming private detective, but what he lacks in experience, he makes up in tenacity and foresight. He’s the best that Trulia has.   “Do you have any leads?”   You hum. It’s remarkable he asks that. You’ve been thinking about it — picking apart every single memory, all instances there could have been a hint, each time you could have been blinded to such a secret. “I don’t have any leads, but I have suspicions.”   The detective leans in closer, doe eyes placed on yours.   “I believe my sibling may be older than me and I believe contrary to any initial hunches, it may be my mother’s child.” Maybe your father knew and something had happened. Maybe he was ridden with guilt and that’s why he decided to give everything to your sibling.    “I remember, years ago, my mother came in one drunken night and she told me about her previous lover. She was supposed to marry him and they even ran away together, but my grandparents found them and she was forced to marry my father. It’s possible that she may have had a child with him before I was born. And it may be possible he came to the funeral.”   Detective Jeon takes out his notepad and begins scribbling. He bobs his head and you inhale a staggering breath as you continue to talk. You never thought you would have to divulge into your parents’ secrets after their death, that you would have to reveal all you know to a stranger. But you have to do what it takes if you want to find this person before your aunt and uncle do.   “I saw a man about your height. He looked old, about fifty or so. He put a rose at my mother’s casket and left without speaking to me. I have never seen him before in my life.”   “Did you see anything else about him?”   “Nothing that would be helpful. He had brown hair, but he was wearing black as everyone else was. He left before I could get to him.”   “Did your mother ever tell you anything else? Where they ran away to? What they were planning to do afterwards?”   “No. She only ever spoke to me about it on that one occasion.” Frankly, you’re not sure if you want to know, but you push past the thought. Detective Jeon notes it and something prickles in your mind. “If you can, I want you to also look into Park Jimin as well.”   His eyes lift off his paper.   “He’s a gardener that works at this estate,” you tell him. “He’s always been close to my mother.”   And unusually so. She never cared much for the help, but you’ve seen them walking together before and conversing on numerous occasions.   “I’ll see what I can do for you.” The detective smiles and once the conversation concludes, he takes his briefcase.    “Oh and Detective Jeon.” Your voice stops him on his way out and he turns. “It would be best if no one finds out about this, namely my relatives. They can be quite...nosy.”   He looks at you and smiles. “Understood.”   Taehyung sees him out and you take a moment to recline back into the armchair, gandering at the many bookcases lining the walls. You never thought you would one day sit in your father’s study like this. He was in here more often than any other room and somehow, it always seemed so big when you were a child.    Taehyung comes back within minutes and you can tell by the expression on his face that he has questions.   The corner of your mouth tugs and you languidly bat your hand. “Ask away.”   “What are you planning to do when you find them?”   “I’ll kill them, of course.”   You get onto your feet, slowly rounding the desk. There’s a glass paperweight on the surface and you pick it up to fiddle with it. There’s a floral print inside and it catches the light no matter what direction you turn it to. You gave this to your father for his birthday one year.   “I can’t return to being that naive person like you hope I will, Taehyung.”   You’re not children anymore. As much as you wish, you can’t go back to that simple time.   “I know.”   You twist on your heel, looking him straight into his eyes. “Then will you help me?”   He closes the distance in two strides and leans down to take your other hand. His plush lips kiss against your knuckles and he swears his loyalty yet again, “I’ll do anything for you, mistress.”   //   The next afternoon, you gather the entire estate’s servants together — the cooks, kitchen workers, maids and footmen. They look nervous at the sudden impromptu gathering, glancing at one another and quietly murmuring.   You clear your throat loudly and their attention is taken.   “As you all know, recently my father and mother, Mr. and Mrs. Arden, have passed away. And I have become the new head of household. You have done a well enough job to be here and your services are much appreciated. For those who came to give their condolences at the memorial, it is something I will not forget. However, your loyalties must belong to me, not to my late parents.”    There are worried glimpses exchanged and you begin to pace in front of them. “As I am now the lady of the Arden estate, I would like to begin anew.”   You can’t afford to feed so many mouths, considering all the wealth is frozen. You’ll be paying with what you personally have until you can find a solution with Mr. Kim. Not to mention, you’re not sure who can be trusted, who your uncle and aunt have already persuaded. The last thing you need is extra eyes and ears in this house.   “From now on, Taehyung will be the manager of this household. He will see to it that the household will still function. If you have any questions, ask him. If you have any concerns, then ask him. He will come to me with whatever he cannot solve.”   “Few of you will stay and I thank the rest for serving this house for so long. I will make sure your severance pay is generous enough until you will be able to find work elsewhere. If your name is called, you may stay.”   Taehyung, standing behind you, begins reading from the list. One of the three names called is none other than Jimin himself.   The gardener smiles out of relief, eyes crinkled into half-moons. “Thank you, madam.”   You nod and once it’s done, you leave for the study as Taehyung takes care of the rest. You don’t want to stay around to see disheartened expressions or hear pleas to stay. So you’re resigned to watch out of the upper windows instead.   You’ve allowed them a few days to leave, but some are already taking their exit with their belongings with them, tearfully looking back at the mansion. It’s difficult but it needs to be done.   “My lady…”   You hear Taehyung come from behind you. You shift away from the window. “You’ll help me look for new help?”   “Of course.”   “Do you think four maids and one cook will suffice?” You count on your fingers. There’s already Jimin taking care of the gardens, you kept one maid so he’ll only have to hire three, and there’s a trustworthy kitchen maid too. It’s not like you need that many hands to take care of the estate. “Or will you need more help?”   “That’ll be fine.” The edge of Taehyung’s mouth pulls. “I could technically do it all, if you’d like.”   “And have you fainting on me from exhaustion?” You notice lint on his coat tail, so you come up to him and gently dust off his shoulder. “I think not.”   Taehyung’s sly smile tugs. “Do you consider me delicate?”   “No. But I am,” you clarify, looking up at the man. “If you’re not here twenty four seven attending to me, then what would be the point of having you around?” You brush past him, mumbling, “Can’t have you in the kitchen when you’re supposed to be by my side.”   The man stifles back a laugh to himself, yet his grin is all too evident. “Yes, madam.”   You glare at him over your shoulder, but it reminds you, “Tell the new help not to call me madam. You know I don’t like it.”   He puts his hand over his heart and bows exaggeratedly. “Yes, young mistress.”   You scoff. The title is not that much different and he knows it too. He always knows how to be cheeky, but you let it go because he’s Taehyung. It’s not like you can ever be upset with him for long.    He’s already won before the game’s begun.   //   A few days later, there’s a knock at your door.   It’s unusual. Taehyung never knocks and your suspicions are confirmed when an unfamiliar girl is sticking her nose into the room. “Umm...pardon me.”   It’s an unfamiliar girl in a maid ensemble, a black dress with white trim and a ruffled apron with a headpiece. Her hair is dark and shiny, features sharp. You assume she must be one of the new ones. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t find Butler Kim, I just wanted to let you know that Mr. Kim, the lawyer— I think, is in the parlor. He instructed me to tell you that he’s brought it.”   You nod and get up. But you stop for a second and come eye to eye with the girl. “What’s your name?”   “Jane.” She smiles to herself as if she’s happy you’ve made a note of it.   “If you could clear the teacup from the table.”   “Oh! Certainly!” She rushes over and you don’t linger.    True to what’s been told, the middle-aged lawyer is sitting in his chair and he staggers up as you come into the room. “It’s good to see you well, Y/N, and that you’ve taken charge of this estate so well.”   “Thank you.” You motion to the armchair. “Please, sit.”   “I brought your parent’s business expense reports as you asked.” Mr. Kim takes it from his briefcase and hands you the thick folder after settling down. “I didn’t think I would have it until I remembered there was a box in my office closet meant for this sort of thing. My office ended up branching out and opening a professional accounting firm a year ago, you see, so we no longer do bookkeeping.”   You flip open to find your father’s writing, then pages of Mr Kim’s. The reports match up with what he says. It stops a year ago. You might need to get into contact with Yoongi to find the more recent expense documents.   “Thank you for this. It will be very helpful to me.”   The lawyer nods. “Anytime, child. Now about what you talked to me about last time….”   “Yes, how is that coming along?”   He sharply inhales. “As I suspected, it will be difficult to challenge the will in court, Y/N. It hasn’t been done before and it may be costly. For now, my first submission is still in process, so we’ll have to see if we can even speak to a judge. I’ll let you know how that comes along.”   You’re grateful he’s still of help to you. He's older than your father is, but you suppose he must enjoy his line of work to not retire at this age. “Mr. Kim, if I may ask a question. Were...you aware that I had a sibling?”   The man smiles sadly. “Unfortunately, I was not. The will was sealed and I was simply entrusted to read it to you all. It took me by surprise as much as it did for you.”   If you didn’t know, the family lawyer wouldn’t either.    You wonder how many other well-kept secrets there are in your family.   That night, you look over the documents while burning the midnight oil. As usual Taehyung insists that you head to bed when the grandfather clock chimes past twelve, but after you tell him to go retire first, he stays silent beside you.    Taehyung’s too stubborn sometimes, but you don’t tell him his company is pleasant to have.   “Huh.”   “What’s the matter?”   “I didn’t know my father donated to St. Andale Orphanage.” You squint, reading the barely legible writing. You don’t remember that happening or it being posted in the newspaper.   “It must’ve been done anonymously,” Taehyung comments and you make a noise in agreeance. But it’s strange. Your father always liked to have his name on donations so that people would know and it would be written in the newspaper. It’s not like him to go quiet and he gave quite generously too.   “I’d like to go to the orphanage tomorrow.” You look up at Taehyung. “In the morning.”   “I’ll arrange that for you,” he says with a smile.   You close the books. “I’d like that man to join me as well. My father’s worker, Min Yoongi.”   At that, Taehyung’s brow quirks. “For?”   “He was close to my father, right? He might know something I don’t.”   //   The orphanage is a worn brick on the south side of the city in the poorer area, yet it somehow looks to be holding up well. It’s unlike the other buildings around that’s crumbling. You wonder if it’s your father’s doing that made this place half-decent.   You can hear the laughter of children in the plot of grass fenced in. You watch them at the distance while strolling the perimeter with Taehyung to your left and Yoongi to your right.   “It is quite cloudy today.”   “It looks like winter is coming soon.” Yoongi looks at you. “If you’re cold, we could go inside.”   “No, it’s quite alright. I don’t get to enjoy the cold weather often and it can be nice.” You turn with a small smile. “I might be like my father in that way.”   “Yes, I remember he told me he quite enjoyed the snow.” His eyes gloss over, reminiscent. “Your father was a very respectable man.”   “He was a good businessman and an even less attentive father,” you hum and feel Yoongi’s gaze on your profile, but he doesn’t get a chance to reply. “I’m sorry to ask you this, but did my father ever speak about his private life, Mr. Min?”   “Yoongi is fine. But no, not frequently at least. I only remember he once told me about flowers he was going to get for his wife before he headed home and I remember he spoke about you a few times.”   “Me?”   “Yes.” Yoongi offers a polite smile. “He told me that you were quite talented in your personal studies.”   You take a glance at him. There’s not a single trace on his expression that lets you know he’s lying or exaggerating, but you still find it hard to believe. “In his will, he gave me a pocket watch. I was hoping you’d know more about it. It’s gold and without any designs or engravings—”   “Gold?” Yoongi gives you a peculiar expression. “The company doesn’t make gold pocket watches.”   “Pardon?”   He explains, “We found that the profits weren’t worth the costs, so what’s used is silver, bronze, ceramic or even glass. In the third collection, there were some gold watches, but you said there weren’t any designs or engravings on it?”   “There’s nothing.”   The corner of the man's mouth pulls. “Mr. Arden must have personally handcrafted it for you then.”   Your brows furrow. You’re not sure how you feel upon hearing that, so you cast a glimpse to Taehyung who’s been quietly listening and he smiles at you. Yoongi clears his throat a moment after. “I wasn’t planning on telling you this, Miss Y/N, but considering it’s about your family, I think you have a right to know.”   Your head turns over in alarm. “What is it?”   “Your cousin, I believe, Hoseok. He’s been….showing up to the company often. He’s been wanting to book a meeting with me for a week now and he waits until I’m done working to try to speak to me. I suspect he wants to take over the business.”   You’re not surprised. “I’m receiving that kind of pressure in regards to the wealth and estate, Yoongi, and a hundred times worse. I think you have it in you to handle my overbearing cousin.”   Yoongi laughs from his chest as if he already figured you didn’t have any real solution. But based on your answer, it’s allowing him to do whatever he wants to that cousin of yours.    A few minutes pass before an older woman emerges to the field. “Children! Children! It’s time for lunch! Come along now!”   Another woman comes to invite you inside, so you follow after them into a room where they’re serving soup and loaves of bread. You watch children as old as fifteen to as young as three line up one after another. It’s both sad and heartwarming to see so many sparkling eyes in hunger-pane frames.    “Today’s food was given to us by Miss Arden and Mr. Min, can everyone give a big thank you?”   There’s a chorus of ‘thank you’s throughout the room and toothless grins from boys and girls.   When a woman struggles with carrying a box inside, Taehyung comes to help and then Yoongi. They’re supplies that you donated out of your own pocket, clothing and some blankets — it’s not much but still better than nothing.   “I want more!”   A pitched voice of a four year old boy in drab clothes knocks you out of your train of thought and you shift towards him. His friend adamantly shakes his head.   “No! ‘Member what Sister Emmy said? You only get one!”   You step forward, lips parting but before a single word can escape—   “Here you go.” An older girl with soft features and her hair pulled back in a frayed ribbon has spun around with an extended arm. Her loaf of bread is in hand. The boy blinks owlishly at her and she beams. “You can have it.”   “Thank you!” He takes it and the two boys run away.   “That was very kind of you,” you speak up and she turns around, startled that someone saw. You smile at her, lowering yourself to match her height. “You can have more bread. There should be enough for the next few days.”   Her eyes light up. “Really?”   You don’t like children much, but this girl seems to be intelligent and mature for her age. “What’s your name?”   “Rose, ma’am.” She bows her head awkwardly, rather well-mannered. “Thank you for the food.”   “I’m happy to help when I can. Can I ask how old you are?”   She counts on her fingers for a moment. “I believe twelve, ma’am, but I’m not sure.” As you frown, she quickly explains, “My mother died when I was young and I’ve never met my father, so I don’t know for certain how old I am….”   Her voice becomes quieter and quieter as it goes on and you realize she’s ashamed.   “That’s quite alright. I don’t have parents anymore either.” You muster a smile and the corner of her own mouth tugs. It’s pleasant to talk to someone who doesn’t know you, someone who doesn’t have any ulterior motives. “What do you like to do, Rose?”   “I don’t do much. But I like to cook! And churn butter. I also like collecting eggs and making milk.”   You hum. “How would you like to come back with me and work at the house?”   Her eyes open wide, irises practically glistening from the afternoon sunlight coming through the windows.   You’re normally not so impulsive, but you have a feeling she’s wasted here in the orphanage where she’ll have to work in a factory soon or get married by fifteen. Your mother always warned you to pick and choose the people around you carefully, and this girl seems trustworthy. Or at least, you can see capability.   Taehyung was even younger than she was when he entered the house for the first time. He must’ve been six or seven. His dad worked for the household and so did his dad’s dad — a whole lineage that made it inevitable that Taehyung would follow too.   Rose comes home with you three hours later.   You take it that this kind of affair customarily doesn’t happen so quickly judging by the head lady there being overwhelmed by the generous offer of taking the girl. But the process was most likely sped up considering your well-known status and Rose’s enthusiasm at the promise of a private room, food each day, and a high pay at the end of every month. She was more than happy and practically begging the woman she knew well to let her go. And the woman was happy too — even thanking you for giving her a home.   You’re not sure if it’s much of a home. But it’s yours.   “This is...enormous.” Rose gasps as her eyes lay upon the manor, lugging her small case of belongings by her side. “I-I mean, thank you, ma’am. I will work very hard!”   Your lips tickle into a small smile. “I’m glad.” The three of you enter and she gawks at the place. “Taehyung will show you where you’ll stay in the maid’s quarters and what will be expected of you. I’ll give you time to settle yourself, so don’t worry about anything for now.”   “Thank you, ma’am!”   “It’s right this way.” He guides and she tottles after him. You sigh softly with a smile as you watch the pair. He was amused when you told him that you wanted to take her home and he followed your instructions without much protest. Hopefully Taehyung will let her know that you’re not keen on being called ma’am or madam.   You’re about to retire to your room, but you’re stopped on your way by Jane.    She fiddles with her fingers nervously. “Miss, um, there’s, uh…”   “What is it?”   “There’s a guest in the parlor. He came about an hour or two ago and he insisted on staying until you came home.”   You hold in your sigh, wondering why it’s so hard to take a rest these days. “From now on, do not allow anyone inside the house when I am not here unless said otherwise.”   She flinches at your tone and dips her head. “Yes, my lady.”   You make your way to the room to find out who this uninvited guest is, and your brows furrowed in confusion when you see the backside of an unfamiliar man. He’s dressed in a sack coat with a matching waistcoat and black trousers. He must hear your footsteps since he turns around and instantly gets up, jaw gone slack.   “You must be Y/N,” he murmurs in awe. “You’re even more beautiful in person.”   The man comes to you and takes the back of your hand, placing a kiss against your knuckles. You eye him the entire time. “And you are…?”   “Oh, I apologize, I hadn’t realized I didn’t introduce myself.” He takes off his top hat and presses it to his chest. “I am Mark Carter. I believe your uncle may have spoken about me previously.”   You vaguely remember something about meeting his friend’s son, but you can’t quite pinpoint the details. Your expression remains stoic and unimpressed. “Is that so?”   “It’s an honour to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”   You guessed this would have happened, but you didn’t know it would come so soon. Being the head of the Arden Household and unmarried at that, it’s only natural that others will come after you.    It would be wise of you to consider it as well — the only way you can collect the temporary inheritance is through your husband. But as silly and naive as it might be, you want to marry for love and not convenience. And it’s the one thing you won’t allow yourself to give up on.   “Like what?”   “Pardon?”   “What have you heard about me?”   Mark clears his throat. “Well, I have heard that you are as intelligent as your father and as beautiful as your mother, no less than a red rose blossoming in the morning dew of spring. And I must say, those rumours do not do you justice, Miss Y/N. You far exceed any poetry that could possibly be waxed.”   The corner of your mouth curls in amusement. Admittedly, it’s nice to hear such bold and blatant compliments once in a while, even if they are exaggerated and likely crafted by your uncle. “While I am wholly flattered, Mr. Carter, is this what you came here to tell me?”   The man’s posture straightens. “I came to ask permission to court you.”   You nearly choke on your own spit. You’re taken aback at the man’s shamelessness, not sure if he’s dimwitted or simply brave. “Meaning?”   “I would like to send you letters every so often if you grant me permission and perhaps if you’d be inclined to take strolls with me.”   You’re not sure how to answer or what to say, but you’re starting to feel your impassive expression crumble. You muse it’s impressive your uncle found someone as overbearing and insistent as he is. “Can I ask why you want to send me letters? We’ve never met before.”   “Actually, we have,” he says and blinks. “At your father’s charity function two years ago.”   You scour your mind, but you can’t recall. Every charity function you attended, you just remember sneaking out food for Taehyung and sitting together outside looking at the stars.    Mark reads your expression as he realizes that you can’t remember and his face falls. “It hurts me that you can’t remember the encounter but no matter.” He suddenly takes your hands and you lean back to create more distance. “If you let me, Miss Y/N, I promise you that you will not be disappointed.”   “Mr. Carter—”   “I have not been able to forget you since that night.” You wonder why he didn’t look for you sooner then if he felt so passionately about an encounter you can’t even remember. But before you can ask, he comes closer to you, forcing you to take a step back. “If you give me a chance, I will grant your every wish.”   He’s crowding you, intruding in your space, larger than you are.   Your mouth parts, trying to utter out a word, but it’s not necessary. A looming shadow comes over Mark, draping him away from the light.    It’s Taehyung with a menacing expression — his lips drawn together, eyes practically burning holes. He grabs the back of the man’s coat collar and yanks him away from you, finally giving you space to breathe. “Please do not lay a hand on her ladyship, good sir.”   “W-Who’re you?!” Mark looks between you and Taehyung as if expecting you’ll tell him to leave him be. But you don’t move whatsoever.   Your butler offers the man a stiff smile that has your own mouth curling upwards. “Uninvited guests are no longer permitted in the Arden estate. The maid that you let in was inexperienced. A mistake like that will never happen again. So unfortunately, you will have to leave now until you receive a proper invitation.”   “Wait!”   You stifle back a laugh when Taehyung physically picks him up, nearly throwing him over his shoulder.   The man struggles and his cries echo throughout the manor as he’s taken away, “Put me down! Stop! You idiot! You’ll hear from my father about this! How dare you!”   Taehyung throws him out of the estate and you’re finally able to breathe a sigh of relief.   When he comes back, he dusts off his hands with a more pleased expression. “What would you like for dinner, mistress?”   //   The next time someone visits, it’s not uninvited.   “Who are you?” Jane has stopped in the middle of her path, duster in hand and scrutinizing the doe-eyed male in the foyer. His brow lifts at the girl, but before he can come up with an answer, Taehyung appears from the corridor.   “Right this way, sir.”   The man in his coat nods and walks away, yet the maid is still curious. Her eyes follow the stranger’s form and she murmurs to Taehyung, “But who is he?”   “Her lady’s affairs don’t affect you,” he coldly deadpans. “It would be better to attend to your duties than ask questions.”   “M-My apologies, Butler Kim.” Jane dips her head and turns around, but she still steals a glance over her shoulder with a pout and a huff escaping through her nose.   Taehyung comes inside the study to find you and Detective Jeon going through what he’s found.   “I looked into Park Jimin like you asked me to.”   “What did you find?”   Detective Jeon flips open copies of documents. “He was born and raised right here in Lennox, never stepped foot outside of Trulia. His parents are immigrants from the East, still married and living together on the West side of the city in a tenement. His father worked in a landscaping company and his brother, three years older than he is, is a wagon craftsman.”   You go through the papers and sigh after a moment. It doesn’t seem like he’s the one you’re looking for. Well, you suppose you’ve ruled out at least one possibility.   “He’s as boring as they get,” the detective says. “But I did find something...peculiar.”   “What is it?”   “That man you wanted me to search for, the one who came to the funeral, I think I might have found where he is.” Detective Jeon hands you another worn folder from his briefcase and you eagerly untie the string to look at the pages inside.   “An intern at your father’s company actually spoke to him briefly and I found the inn he was staying at in Lennox. Spoke to the lady there and went to the train station. I have a connection with someone who manages the books and they found a train ticket. There’s more to it, but I won’t bore you.”   His name is Arthur Kahl. There are small details of him written, how he’s in his fifties, where he lives and a drawing of him sits amongst the documents. Your brows furrow. This is him — there’s no doubt about it.   “He’s an artisan. A woodworker,” Detective Jeon tells you. “Lives in France, in a town called Colmar, but he grew up here in Lennox.”   Your eyes flicker up to Taehyung and then the detective. “Thank you for this.”   He offers a smile. “It’s all in a day's work.”    Shortly after, Detective Jeon is escorted out by the butler. His eyes are perceptive but his senses are even more keen. He takes a glance at the taller man. “Your name is Kim Taehyung, right?”   Taehyung’s brow quirks. “I think you already know the answer to that.”   Detective Jeon boyishly smiles. “Is it alright if I ask a question? It might be intrusive.”   “Then don’t ask.”   “But see, I’m much too curious.” His steps slow while the two men come outside where it’s harder to eavesdrop. They stop on the front path of the manor leading towards the gates. “It might be the reason why I ended up in this line of work. Can’t give up on something once it’s in my head. I just have to know.”    There’s a pause. Then, he doesn’t hesitate any longer. “Do you perhaps fancy Miss Y/N?”   Detective Jeon’s doe eyes sparkle in the sunlight.   It’s a subtlety that can only be noticed through careful observation.   But he’s seen it — through the way you allow the butler to stay in every private conversation divulging the secret details of your family. How he always knows what you want without you needing to speak a single word. You’re in rhythm with one another and always taking glances when the other person isn’t looking.    Jungkook has seen many things. But never a master and servant so close to each other.   “That is an intrusive question.” Taehyung’s expression remains impassive. “My devotion goes beyond such kinds of frivolous and fickle emotions.”   His mouth quirks. “Why don’t you do anything about it then?”   “It’s not my place. I merely grant her wishes and fulfill my necessary duties.”   “So you’re holding yourself back on purpose?”   “That’s enough questions.” Butler Kim continues walking. “You’re a detective. If you’re that curious, I’m sure you can figure it out.”   “You’re right.” Detective Jeon grins, led out the gates, yet he turns around one last time. “But if you’re willing to do anything for your mistress, would you kill for her?”   His expression hardens while Jungkook flashes another smile. It’s not the kind of question that is waiting for an answer, so the other merely walks off, down the path and away from the estate.    //   You’ve only ever left Trulia twice in your life.   Once on a family outing when you were five or six and another time for just a few days when you were accompanying your father on a business trip. You’ve never had the chance to see much outside of this country and it’s a wish that you never spoke to anyone before but Taehyung.   There was simply never a chance for you to go. And while you expected your next journey out of Trulia would be an adventure and perhaps seeing new sights, you suppose this is a good excuse as well.   “Can you please pack another dress? I don’t want to run out when I’m there.”   Rose enthusiastically nods and goes to your wardrobe to pick another gown. While Taehyung is the one who would ever pack your suitcases, you don’t want to rely on him too much. He was already preparing the rest of the things for the trip and Rose seemed more than happy to help.   “The blue one will be fine.”   She nods and folds it into the case as you look over the gloves. “How long will you be going for, miss?”   “A few days.” You look up at the twelve year old and the corner of your mouth tugs. “You’ll watch the house for me? I don’t want any roaches to crawl in while I’m away.”   Her head bobs up and down. “I’ll try my best, my lady.”   You smile, noticing Jane looking into the room. She realizes you’ve seen her and clears her throat. “Do you need any help, my lady?”   “No, I’m fine, thank you.”   It’s nerve-racking to leave the estate and Trulia. You trust that a few days won’t bring things into chaos, especially considering that you’ve kept your affairs discreet. But underlying the unsettlement is a buzz of excitement — that just for a short while, you can escape.    You feel that way even a day later when you’re at the train platform. And whatever you were afraid of is washed away with Taehyung by your side.   “Stand right here. I’ll only be a moment,” he tells you, holding your tickets to Colmar and you nod.   Your hand grips the suitcase as you overlook the bustle of people. You’ve never seen so many gathered in one place before, families and lovers parting ways, children rushing past, the conductor quickly pacing to the front of the platform. It’s dizzying to look at and overwhelming to be in.   You wonder if you look out of place in the mass of people. You chose to wear a white dress with a natural silhouette, a bustle pad underneath and a bonnet around your half pinned-up hair. It’s modest attire, but the threads are still expensive. The last thing you would want is to attract needless attention and that’s why you made Taehyung wear a normal white waistcoat and black frock coat with matching trousers than his usual stiff tailcoat. He looks rather nice in normal clothing anyhow.   As you think about Taehyung, you start to search the crowd.   The red and black painted train whistles, smoke coming from its chimney. It looks like it’s about to leave soon, but you’re not sure if you should go in or where you would even sit or put your luggage. It’s been so long since you’ve been on a train, you don’t know what to do.   The endless questions and uncertainty drains blood from your face and you start to panic.   Until Taehyung comes into sight.    “What took you so long.” You frown at him but he still has the audacity to smile.   “My apologies, I had to check if we were at the right platform. Let’s go.”   He takes your suitcase and offers his arm which you take.   Taehyung keeps you from being swallowed by the thick crowd and pushed back. His height looms over even most men and although his stature is lean, he remains steady. Once you’re at the doors, he puts down the cases and holds your hand to help you up the step and then he resumes by your side, cutting through the passenger cars.    The two of you pass the more luxurious sleeping cars and as you peek into the window of the car of commoners, wondering if that’s where you’re heading, he slides open the door of a compartment.   It’s a private booth with a large window and a ledge overtop for your suitcases.   “Here we are, my lady.”    Taehyung organizes your belongings as you sit down on the plush seat. A moment later, the train begins to move, wheels rolling against the rail and then it builds speed to chug along.   You watch houses flash past the window.   “What do you think?” he asks, sitting opposite of you.   “Is it supposed to be so nauseating?”    Your head is light and the world is dizzying from the fast motion of the train. Taehyung must see your weakened expression with the way his eyes widen in alarm. But you quickly lift your hand and try to reassure him, “It’s fine.”   It isn’t. And he knows it.   “We can get off the next station.”   “No!” You inhale a deep breath, calming yourself. “We have to go. We have to make it, Taehyung.”   You shut your eyes. There’s no way you can turn back now. “It’s probably because I haven’t been sleeping well.” Not when you’re up day and night taking care of what your parents left for you, even if it’s only temporarily. And not when you’re kept awake plagued by the secrets of the people who were supposed to be closest to you. “The herbs in my tea can only do so much.”   Suddenly, you feel the seat dip beside you and your eyes flutter open to see Taehyung. He reaches over and gently guides your head to lean on his shoulder. “Then sleep. Don’t think about anything else.”   The corner of your mouth curls. “You make it sound so easy.”   “I’ll watch over you.”   A noise is made at the back of your throat and you allow yourself to mold against Taehyung’s side, your head cradled against the slight slope of his broad shoulder. As you ease, your fingers slowly drag itself over until you graze the back of his hand. No words are needed. No explanations are necessary.    Taehyung flips his hand so that his palm faces upwards and his fingers entwine with yours.   Within a few minutes, your chest begins to rise and fall, soft breaths escaping your parted lips.   Taehyung’s eyes stray from the windows to watch you.   You’re cold and blunt, carrying yourself with an intimidating demeanour that either frightens others or causes them to despise you. But he can still see the traces of your childhood self, even if the recent weeks have forced you to harden. Taehyung knows that you’re still sentimental, that you’re affectionate, that you’re not as indifferent as you’d like to be.   He knows you’re still grieving for your parents.   The two of you grew up together after all.   Since young, he’s been told he’s talented for this line of work, but devotion was another matter. He was told that being a butler meant more than just serving — it meant protecting. And he swore his duty to your name that day you took the blame when he stole from the kitchen and you got slapped by your mother.    He can still remember your small frame standing in front of him. How your words didn’t waver.   Taehyung knew it then and he knows it now — there’s nothing more important than protecting you.   His mouth tugs and his eyes lift from your sleeping features, but something catches the edge of his vision. Taehyung looks up to the window of the compartment door and finds a man, blue eyes, blonde hair curled in front of his forehead. The stranger peers into the compartment and when he notices Taehyung’s gaze, he dips his bowler hat as if to shield himself.   Taehyung moves.   He cradles your head until you’re laying down fully on the seat and he quietly slides the door open.   “Excuse me.”   Taehyung moves past someone, eyes darted on the man who peeks over his shoulder and quickens his steps.   He had seen the man before — earlier on the platform and then again when he left you alone. Taehyung came back right in time. You hadn’t noticed the man behind you at all.    Taehyung quickens his steps, stalking after the man who looks over his shoulders once more. His strides hasten. He practically breaks out into a run. Taehyung chases after him as the train curves into a tunnel. The windows are blackened, darkness sweeping throughout the cart.   He hears staggering breaths pulling roughly out of lungs and at the same time, the train rushes out the tunnel. Light breaks through the windows again and the steel door at the end of the cart begins to close. Taehyung sees through the tiny gap where panicked eyes meet his own gaze.   Taehyung runs.    He throws open the door and the cold wind rips through his hair with the intensity of a storm. The wheels shriek against the rail. There’s only a tiny step before one would have to make the jump to the other cart’s door. In between are violently rattling metal links that connect the two carts.    “Hah!”    There’s a squeak of shoes behind him. Taehyung ducks. The door slams closed.   The man’s arm is extended midair, having missed Taehyung’s cheek and within a blink, Taehyung grabs his arm and twists it. The man shouts in agony, teeth gritted. “Why you!”   His fist swings and it manages to catch Taehyung’s jaw. He’s knocked back, tasting a surge of coppery blood.    Taehyung wheezes, but his lips curl into a smile. He launches himself forward as the man squares himself. An arm swings. Fist curled. Taehyung dodges.   Taehyung takes the opportunity, no longer on the defense, and he swiftly strikes.   The man stumbles back, air ripped out of his lungs, eye sure to bruise.   Taehyung steps forward, but the man grabs something within his coat.   “Step back!”   Taehyung’s met with the muzzle of a revolver and puts his hands up, calming his breath.   The man snorts with a sly smirk. “Yeah that’s right. You’re just a dog.”   But then Taehyung's left hand clutches the man’s wrist and he contorts it at an angle, knee coming up to slam into the man’s stomach. Instantly, the man keens and wheezes.   He cries out as the revolver crashes onto the links connecting the carts and falls beneath to the rails.   Taehyung grabs the man’s collar and holds him backwards, nearly off the train. The man’s eyes become rounded in fear. There’s a storm of verdant in the background, fields and trees darting past.   “Who are you?!”   “Let go of me! I...I swear, I didn’t want to do this!”   “What do you want with her?” Taehyung demands, shaking the man whose head nearly touches the steel rails. The man’s fist curls on Taehyung’s so he doesn’t fall. “Answer the question!”   The shout is torn from Taehyung’s throat, his face crumpled into unadulterated anger, jaw clenched.   “I-It was her uncle!” the man quickly spits out in fear of his life. “Seokjin! He hired me! He wanted me to kill her!”   “So you were planning on putting a bullet through her head?!”   “I-I just needed the money! I’m sorry! Please, please,” the man pleads. “You don’t have to do this. W-What has that girl ever done for you? You’re just her guard dog!”   Taehyung has a deadpan expression, eyes dim. He begins to release his hold on the man who audibly sighs of relief. “That’s right.”    But it’s too soon.   “Don’t you know dogs are one of the most loyal animals?” Taehyung grabs the man again as he stands and throws him off the train into the soft meadow. “Woof.”   The man’s scream echoes. Taehyung dusts off his hand.   He comes back to the compartment to where you’re still sleeping and resumes his spot with your head in his lap, finding a warm blanket to drape over you.    Six hours later, you wake up, rubbing your eyes. He smiles and tucks a loose strand of hair in front of your face behind your ear. But your sleepy daze shatters when you see his split lip.   Almost immediately, you’re leaning over to Taehyung, grazing the wound with your thumb.   He sharply inhales.   “What happened?” you demand, worry written all over your face.   It hurts to smile, but can’t resist it. He should never admit it — he likes it when your attention is solely on him. “I tripped.”   You look at him incredulously. “Taehyung.”   “I did.” He doesn’t give up the excuse no matter how much you prod and pry.    The train arrives in the town of Colmar shortly after.   It’s a quiet place with a certain dryness to the air in spite of the river running through the town and underneath the bridges. The homes are tightly knitted next to one another. It’s a cozy kind of atmosphere. For a moment, you can imagine your mother having spent her life in this place and you’re not certain how to feel.   You decide to stay in an inn near the square, dropping off your suitcases in your given room.   “We should find him, shouldn’t we?”   You turn from the window to Taehyung with an unreadable expression.   “We don’t have to,” he says and it’s all too tempting. You want to forget that you’re here looking for your mother’s old lover, that you’re searching for your sibling. You wish you can pretend that this is merely a trip to enjoy with Taehyung in a place far away from Lennox.   But even if you were to dream such a thing, the truth would not stop plaguing your mind.   You muster the strength to shake your head. “We can enjoy ourselves after. There’s no point in putting it off.”   “He’s an artisan. A woodworker.”   The detective’s words ring inside your head.   “Lives in France, in a town called Colmar.”   It should be difficult to find the man — that way you have a legitimate excuse to put this off. You wouldn’t have to confront your parents’ secrets. Or meet a brother or sister you never wanted.   “But he grew up here in Lennox.”   Yet this town is small and there is only one known woodworker. If such a thing as fate or destiny exists, then it never stops being cruel to you.   The bell rings as the door of the shop opens.   “Hello there! How can I help you?”   There’s an older man behind the counter busy at his shelf, brunette hair and features tender, wrinkles creased around his eyes to mark each smile he’s collected over the years.   You come towards him with Taehyung by your side. “You were at my mother’s funeral.”   At your murmur, the man turns around wide-eyed. Arthur Kahl, the man your mother loved, who she wanted to marry and be happy with. The father of your sibling.   “You’re Hana’s daughter….” His mouth draws open. “Wh-what are you doing here?”   “I came to see you. I think you may have answers to my questions.”   “I-...I don’t know if I do, but please, sit.” He hobbles to the front of his shop, turning the sign over to not receive any more customers and the both of you sit on wobbly chairs. He knows you came this far, that you searched for him. There’s no other way you could have found him. “I’m sorry I never spoke to you at the funeral. I thought since we didn’t know each other, there was no point in bringing back old memories.”   “Is it true then?” You look at him carefully. “About my mother and you running away together…”   “That was a very long time ago.”   “Then why did you come to see my mother?”   “It was a long time ago, but I still wanted to pay my respects. Your mother...was a wonderful woman and treated me kindly. I’m glad she ended up having a good life and a happy family.”   The corner of your mouth twitches.   He continues, “While I never personally met your father, he seems like a very respectable man and a good husband. I’m truly sorry for your loss.”   The words sit uncomfortably in you. Your parents always seemed to treat each other with mutual respect and trust. It was never a passionate affair like pairs you’ve met, but rather a quiet relationship of sitting alongside one another. You never would have guessed your mother had someone else.   But you don’t want to know anymore about your mother’s history.   “I received my parent’s will a day after their burial.” You inhale a breath, bracing yourself. “And it promised my sibling the estate and the company. I don’t want to harm them. I want to fulfill my parents’ last wishes. So please, allow me to meet my sibling.”   Your eyes meet his earnestly. The man stares back at you, his brows knitting together.   “My apologies, but I’m afraid there’s a misunderstanding. I don't know who your sibling is.”   The clock on his shelf ticks loudly.   “Your mother and I never consummated our relationship.”   //   The night sets in, matches hissing into a flame and thrown into the wood in the fireplace until it awakens and paints the room in a warm orange hue. The quietness is deafening outside of the crackle and pop of the fire.   You haven’t eaten. You don’t want to. You don’t think you could stomach it.   “My apologies.”   You’re seated at the rounded table in the chair, motionless. You should’ve never come. You should have just stayed in the estate instead of trying to dig around in the secrets of your family, into the reasons why nothing was left for you, why they didn’t love you even after death.   “But I’m afraid there’s a misunderstanding.”   You came here for nothing.   “I don't know who your sibling is.”   Your efforts were worthless.   “Your mother and I never consummated the relationship.”   There’s an ear-splitting crash that rings the four walls.    Taehyung opens the door, eyes darting to you. You’re hyperventilating, clutching the handle of your suitcase, all your belongings fallen on the ground beside the wall. You toss the case aside with a frustrated cry.   He calmly shuts the door before anyone in the inn can pry and closes the distance in two strides.   “It’s okay.” He opens his arms and he engulfs your quivering frame.   You grasp onto him, your hands twisting into his white shirt. “I-I don’t know what to do, Taehyung. I...I really thought I had it. I was preparing myself—”   You were preparing yourself to meet your sibling. To confront it all. For once, you were ready.   The frustration cripples you blind and angers you.    How much longer will you be left in the dark? How much longer do you have to look like the fool, a child fumbling in her parent’s history searching for the truth? Why did they do this to you?    Why?   “You can cry,” Taehyung murmurs.   And tears finally slip from your eyes to stain his shoulder.    If it wasn’t for him, if he wasn’t here, you might have lost your mind by now.