What’s an angelic being without a little body horror?

(Or, I actually inked this traditionally for once, because this manga was powerful enough to briefly drag me out of my burnout)

Process below the cut

LUCID | NCT DREAM ‘00 LINE X READER | CH.6

LUCID DREAMS - A TYPE OF DREAM WHEREIN THE PERSON IS AWARE THAT THEY ARE CAUGHT IN A DREAM WORLD.

Summary: It was supposed to be a harmless, professional transaction. You were to tutor a group of boys, get your pay at the end of the day, and go home to your loving fiance. Kids aren’t supposed to be dangerous, right? So why, then, are you caught up in a web of madness that slowly makes you feel like you’re in a living nightmare?

NOTE:This is a yandere plot featuring NCT Dream ‘00 line which means there will be mature themes in the story as well as obsessive, toxic behavior. If you’re a minor, please refrain from interacting. If this isn’t your thing, then just scroll and skip. In no way am I condoning anything written here— this is not love, this is obsession—nor do I think that any of the people mentioned here will act any way like in this story. This is purely a work of fiction.

Genre: yandere, horror, suspense

TW: abuse, obsessive behavior, toxic relationships, suggestive scenes, stalking, possible kidnapping, mental health. Age gap–though nothing dramatic. Everyone is of legal age, drugs, slight smut for this chapter but nothing graphic, questionable consent (?) I guess? Creepy, creepy, creepy! This will be updated as the story goes along.

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5

“EVERYONE HAS A DARKER NATURE. EVERYONE. GOOD MEN FEAR IT, AND EVIL MEN EMBRACE IT.” - JAMES ISLINGTON

The silent hum of the air conditioning filled the space like a foreboding chant. Nothing else but the sound of the hospital machinery and random noises outside pierced the stillness of the room as you stared, unseeing, at the green and orange numbers that blinked on the monitor above the bed. 

You barely have any recollection of how you managed to find yourself in the hospital, but you do remember brief memories of Taeyong picking you up from the floor you found yourself crumpled on after you got the call. You remember seeing Jaehyun's parents at a brightly lit corridor and his mother pulling you into a hug as she broke down and his father telling you how his son hasn't woken up since he was brought to the emergency room.

You remember your heart breaking in shock, mind too numb from the godforsaken pills you have been taking and your own injury. So many times you wondered to yourself if you were still caught in one of your nightmares, but every time you tried to break free from it, you're slapped back with the reality of how all of this is real.

Your fingers gently tightened on Jaehyun's hands now as your gaze landed on his face. He looked so peaceful, like he's just sleeping, that you almost wanted to bend over and try to kiss him awake. You don't even have any idea what time and day it is already, but you have barely left his side since you were brought to him. The nightmares and sleeplessness? They're barely a problem for you anymore because right now, you're entirely not resting at all unless your body forces you to crash from physical exhaustion. Even then, you usually only sleep for about two to three hours at best to make sure that you never miss a moment with your fiance.

"Severe traumatic head injury. He was lucky enough that the airbag shielded him from the worst of the impact."

The words of his attending doctor echoed in your head again like a faraway voice. You could only remember bits and pieces of what he said to his parents back then as he reported his findings, but you caught enough context for you to draw a picture of the situation. You remember Jaehyun's mother asking the chances of her son waking up again, her voice barely holding up from her emotions. 

"I cannot promise anything, Ma'm. I'd say he has a 60 percent chance. He's fighting."

And he is. You know Jaehyun inside out. He might be unconscious now, but there is no way he is giving up. Not from something like this. 

"Keep fighting baby…" you whispered in the stillness of the room as you lifted his hand gently to your lips to kiss. "I'll wait for you. We still have a wedding to do."

The slight creaking of the door barely made you look away from his sleeping face. You only did at the gentle sound of a throat clearing, your eyes slightly widening as you recognized the man who just walked inside the room. Taeil had the same mildly shocked look on him as he stopped on the  other side of the bed across from you. 

"You…"

"Are you a relative of the patient?" He asked now as he tucked his clipboard under his arm. You simply nodded, watching him quickly glance at the numbers on the monitor before his eyes settled on you again.

"I'm his fiancee."

That made him raise his brows slightly. He pulled a pen now from the pocket of his coat to quickly write something on his file. "What a coincidence. Not a good one obviously. I'm sorry to hear about him. Mr. Jung, right?"

You swallowed. You didn't want to acknowledge anything that he just said so you tried to divert the conversation instead.

"You're not his doctor. Why are you…"

"Oh. He was turned over to me today. I am one of the resident neurologists here but he had to be moved to me because his first doctor has too much in his plate already. Don't worry, I was briefed properly about his case."

Your gaze followed Taeil as he bent over to check Jaehyun's oxygen level as well as the other wires attached to him. You don't know what to feel about him taking over, but at least you already know him previously.

"Are there any changes? Positive ones?" You asked in a frail voice that Taeil definitely didn't miss. You told yourself to not act silly and ask questions that probably do not have answers yet, but you couldn't help yourself now. The man seemed to think over his words first, noticing your state, before calmly giving his reply.

"No particular ones, but the fact that there are no negative developments is… something. I will have to request for some tests to be done on him again tomorrow so we can see if there are positive changes in his brain."

Neutral. Not good, but at least it's not bad either.

"How are you? I was about to check on you again. Is your head okay?"

You were still thinking over his words that you barely caught his question. Looking up, you tried to scramble for an answer to give. To be honest, you haven't given proper attention to your own injury since this happened. You would even only remember to take your medications on your clearest, less anxious moments, which, honestly, isn’t a lot. 

"I'm uh… the wound has closed. But the headaches. They're still there."

He simply nodded. "Any other side effects?"

You didn't immediately answer. You didn't want to sound whiny, but it's not like you're going to lose anything by telling him the uglier parts of your recovery. You swallowed to try and dislodge the slight blockage in your throat.

"Nightmares…" you said now, voice soft. You briefly remembered the last one you had back in the manor before you woke up to the bad news and you felt your stomach turn again. "Lots of them. Hallucinations sometimes…"

The doctor watched you carefully and you know he is trying to compute things in his mind despite his face remaining calm.

"Have you been keeping to your schedule with your medications? Are you taking too much?"

You firmly shook your head no to his last question.

"No, I haven't been overdosing. But… I've been skipping my pills the last few days because of...because of this."

"How have you been feeling since you started missing your dosages then? Do you remember?"

That made you actually stop and think about it for a moment. Now that you are paying attention, you did notice how the nightmares have calmed down slightly. Even the hallucinations are almost gone. You frowned slightly to yourself.

"A bit… better actually."

Taeil took his time to observe you a bit more before writing something on a new page of his clipboard.

"You must have had severe reactions to the mixture of pills I gave you. I'm going to prescribe you new ones and ask the nurses to pick them up and bring them to you here. Can you promise that you'll try and take them though? You really need them to fully heal."

You nodded and gave him a slightly sheepish look.

"I will, thank you very much."

Taeil dug his hands into the pockets of his coat and gave you a gentle smile.

"Well, that's it for today. I'll come back tomorrow to give you updates about Mr. Jung." He had already turned and started walking away when he suddenly stopped to look at you again.

"Oh, and another thing. Please try and get some sleep. Recover… and then focus on helping your fiance."

******* You didn't really know what woke you up. Stirring from your sleep, the first thing that registered to you was the sound of distant traffic mixed with the gentle chirping of the morning birds from outside the window. A warm feeling radiated on your cheek and made the back of your eyelids glow red.

You flickered your eyes open and immediately rolled away to escape the ray of sunshine that slipped from the open curtains and shone directly at your face. You easily evaded it as you moved over to the other side of the bed which was empty and cold from the night before.

That was when you finally remembered that you were back in your home, in the same bedroom you share with Jaehyun. The day before, his mother offered to take the responsibility of watching over him so there was a sudden change of plans that finally gave you the reason to check back into your apartment after so long. If it were you, you would have preferred not leaving your boyfriend’s side until he wakes up, but you also knew that your future mother-in-law wanted to spend time with him so you relented. 

Of course you weren't thrilled to be home alone, especially with Jaehyun not being there, but the comfort that a real mattress provided—over the small couch you used to sleep in back at the hospital—is definitely a welcome change for your body. You even tried to take your medicine properly, the new ones that Taeil had provided, in the hopes of getting knocked down fast. Your adrenaline and anxiety had been fueling you in the past days, but you know from the way your heart thumped and your hands shook that you need a solid rest.

And you got it. You still feel a little groggy now but your body is definitely lighter and your head clearer. The nightmares didn't even come, and while they were replaced by total darkness or dreams in white that still made you anxious, you are willing to take those anytime over the graphic ones that you used to have.

You gently sat back against the headrest of the bed now and reached out for your phone to check the time. It's barely 7AM but as expected, Jaehyun's mom has already provided you with updates from the hospital. He’ll have some tests taken today as Taeil advised and then they’ll hear more about his progress. From the looks of it, she seems still set on watching over her son, which means you still have at least today free to yourself.

You quickly typed a reply to her and sighed. You’re thankful that even though you weren’t related by blood, his parents have always treated you as if you were their own. Having a family is not something you’ve really experienced in your childhood, so that’s something you’ve always appreciated about them. That is also the reason why you wish for the best out of this situation, because you also couldn’t bear seeing your fiance’s mother and father heartbroken. He’s their only son, after all.

A quick look around your room left you feeling empty. The last week has been so hard that it felt longer and now you’re struggling to find your normal pace again. In an effort to bring yourself to focus, you decided to pick up your phone once more and started flipping through your calendar to check your schedule. It didn’t take long for you to frown when you realized the upcoming dates there. You’ve plotted important academic schedules in advance and one quick look at it told you how much you’ve obviously missed in the past week. You’ve been so lost in the mess of everything that has happened that you’ve entirely forgotten about your job at the manor. You realized that they didn’t even call you once to ask about your absence, probably because they also know about the situation, but even that is not enough excuse for you to entirely fall off the radar.  

Biting your lip, you quickly scrolled through your contacts now to look for the number you need. Your thumb hovered over the call button momentarily, but you eventually pressed it anyway. Your eyes wandered towards the clock on the wall, hoping silently to yourself that it wasn’t too early for you to call.

“Rosewood Manor, how can I help you?”

You straightened on your seat.

“Hey, Taeyong. It’s me. Sorry if I called so early.”

The other boy seemed to have been taken slightly by surprise by the way he fell silent at the other end of the line. You tapped your finger against your knee, waiting for him to speak again.

“Hi. No, it’s fine. Work started for me about an hour ago. Are you okay? How’s things on your end?”

You nibbled guiltily on your lower lip and finally got off your bed to walk over to the window. You pushed the curtains open and stared at the slight snowfall that had started falling on the ground. You’ve missed so many days of reporting to them but the first thing he does is to check if you’re fine.

“I um—things are still the same. My boyfriend’s still at the hospital.”

“Oh… I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Look, I want to apologize. I haven’t really reported to work and I didn’t even call about it. It’s just that—things have been so crazy lately, but still that isn’t an excuse for me to just not show up.”

Taeyong, however, was understanding as always. You were about to go off for another round of apologies when he gently cut you off. 

“Hey, it’s fine. We know you’ve been dealing with a lot lately so we also weren't expecting anything. Don’t worry too much about it.”

“But, the boys’ examinations and portfolio review is happening in three days and I haven’t really checked in with them. How are they doing now?”

“Oh...that. Well, we actually tried looking for a temporary tutor to help out but I...uh… I think he isn't really cutting it. Maybe because he isn’t the one who started the program with them. But he’s a big help still.”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry about that. I should have at least—look, I can drop by today and just try to fix things.”

“Are you sure? You really don’t have to. Don’t you need to be at the hospital?”

You started going around your room now, trying to gather the scattered papers and files that you’ll need. It’s a good thing you woke up early so you still have time to prepare for work. “My boyfriend’s mother is the one watching over him today so I have the day off.”

“And your injury? How is it?”

Your eyes landed on the new bottles of medicine sitting on your bedside table.

“Better. I’m feeling so much better.”

You heard Taeyong sigh in relief over the phone. “Thank god. We were so worried about that. Well, you really don’t need to go, but if you have time, I guess doing it today won’t hurt. It will help us a lot.”

A small smile tugged at your lips now and you switched the phone over to your other ear as you started arranging your bag. “Thank you so much for being understanding. I need a distraction anyway. I’d rather work than stay home alone… Thanks for not firing me.”

That made him laugh a little. “I’ll tell the boys that you’re coming over. Oh, and be careful on your drive here. The roads are a little bit slippery today because of the snow.”

“I will, thank you. I’ll be there by 9.”

******* “Noona!”

You have barely finished arranging your materials on your desk when the door to the room burst open and ushered an anxious-looking Jisung inside. You looked up quickly at him, only barely catching Chenle wobbling with his crutch before your vision of the entrance was blocked by Jisung’s tall frame. His hair looked swept up as if he ran and there was a slight flush staining his cheeks. He stopped right in front of you, stopping just in time for him not to topple you over.

“Hey, Jisung how are—” You tried to give him a smile but he was quick enough to grab your hands between his.  

“Are you back? Are you really back for real?” He pressed now, eyes wide as he tried to bend over to look closely at you. He looked like a puppy, the only missing thing being a wagging tail to complete the look. You couldn’t help the brief laugh that passed over you as you tried to calm him down.

“I am. For the day, yes. Sorry I missed so many of your sessions.”

“We thought you left us,” Jisung continued, his lower lip protruding just a bit. Just then, Chenle had finally reached the two of you, a slightly embarrassed look on his face. This is actually the first time you saw him again since the day the two of you had your accident and you’re glad to see him healthy despite his broken leg.

“Hi, Chenle. How are you?”

The boy scratched the back of his head and looked away slightly. “Fine… I’m sorry, noona. I wasn’t able to visit you when you stayed with us. I’m really really sorry about what happened in the forest.”

You tried to give him a reassuring smile and freed one of your hands from Jisung’s hold to ruffle his hair. The action seemed to have calmed him down a little because he finally looked at you again, a small apologetic smile on his own lips.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault. But be careful next time, okay?”

“Are you going to be our tutor again, noona?” Jisung pressed once more and you turned your attention back to him. To be honest, you’re still not sure how your schedule will turn out after this, but you couldn’t really bear to break the poor boy’s heart at the moment.

“Yes… I’m here to teach your big brothers today for their tests though. We’ll have to schedule you and Chenle’s lessons again. Is that alright?”

A brief look of disappointment flashed on his face but he was quick enough to pick it up. Jisung smiled and gave your hand a squeeze.

“Okay. We can wait. It’s good you are back, Jaemin-hyung was so—”

“Yah, don’t hog her by yourself. You’ll scare her away.”

A new voice made the three of you look back to the doorway. Haechan smiled at your little group as he strolled casually into the room followed by Jeno and Jaemin. The three of them joined your crowd and you felt Jisung finally let go of your hand as he stepped away to go over to his brothers’ side.

“Hi. Sorry, I only returned now. Taeyong told me that you—”

You weren’t able to finish what you wanted to say as Haechan gently stopped you mid-sentence. He leaned his head to the side, eyes briefly scanning you from head to toe. Unlike Jisung, he looked calm and only barely excited.

“It’s fine. We knew you’ll come back. How are you?”

“Oh… I’m good. My head is better. I haven’t had the chance to thank all of you for taking care of me when I was here.”

“How about your boyfriend?” It was Jeno who asked this time and you quickly turned to him to address his question. Your eyes briefly slipped to Jaemin who was standing behind him before you could even speak though, and for a moment you had the impression that Jeno was shielding him—or blocking him from you. You blinked a little bit in confusion, wondering if it was just your imagination that was making you think that way.

“He’s still… still unconscious,” your smile dropped a little but you tried your best to keep your voice casual. “We’re getting more tests for him. His doctor said that he isn’t showing bad signs at least.”

“I’m so sorry to hear about him,” Haechan said with compassion and you gave him a grateful look. Your gaze settled on Jaemin again, however, who for some reason had barely looked at you since he came into the room. You know that he can be quiet and reserved at times, but there is something in the air around him that makes you slightly worried. He’s so still, but the way he carries himself makes it seem like he’s so strung up at the same time. It also doesn’t help that Jeno seems to be almost pushing him back from view.

“Hi Jaemin… How are you?” You tried to gently ask him to make sure that he is okay. He didn’t look at you at first, but when he finally did, you felt yourself freeze a little. His eyes looked dark and almost emotionless when he met yours and there were shadows under them as if he hadn't slept properly for days. He didn’t even answer and just simply stared, his gaze blank and accusing at the same time.

Haechan casually glanced over his brother and chuckled. “Our Jaeminie here has been sick for the past couple of days so he’s a little out of it. But he’s going to be fine now,” he put a hand over the other’s shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze as if to calm him down. “Right, Jaemin? We’ll try our best to go to class today since noona is finally back, hmm?”

Jaemin, however, didn’t even seem to hear him. He continued staring at you the same way that kept you pinned on your spot.

“Are you leaving again?” he finally asked and you almost felt goosebumps rise on your skin. It didn’t sound like a question… but more of a threat. You swallowed.

“I’m going to have to arrange my schedule till things get better…” you answered carefully, as if you’re navigating dark waters. That didn’t seem to cut it for him, unfortunately.

“So you’re not leaving. Forever?”

You blinked. To be honest, you’ve been thinking of quitting and just finishing the rest of the month if things didn’t improve, but you don’t think that’s the right answer to give at the moment.

“No… not for now,” you finally managed to say. You watched as Jaemin seemed to visibly relax, his stiff shoulders loosening under Haechan’s grip. He didn’t say anything after that, but he at least looked away, seemingly more satisfied with your words.

“Great. I think we should get to work,” Haechan broke the silence and looked around the room as if the tension you were feeling was just something only you could feel. He nodded towards Chenle and Jisung then. “You guys go back to your own classes. You’ll have your share of noona once it’s your turn.” He then glanced at you, smile still in place. “Should we start then?”

You nodded. “Is Renjun still not back?”

“Not yet. He’s going to be here tomorrow though,” Jeno answered as he took his seat on one of the desks.

“I see…”

Haechan also found his spot, but not before you’ve noticed him urging Jaemin to do the same. Playfully, he took the pencil you’ve arranged on the desk and started tapping it against the wood of the table.

“Don’t worry. We’ll tell him you’re back. I’m sure he can’t wait to have his lessons again~”

******* You looked over the window for the third time in the last fifteen minutes and sighed. The day had been busy with you trying to catch up on the boys’ lessons that you barely even noticed the state of the weather outside. When you finally did, it took you by surprise when you saw how much of the ground was covered by snow—one look at it told you that it is at least a feet deep by now. Your first instinct was to try and maneuver your car out of the lot before your tires get entirely buried in it, but then you remembered that you promised to wait for Taeyong to come back before leaving the manor. The butler requested for you to temporarily watch over the manor while he tries to do some last minute errands back in the city, but it’s been two hours since he originally promised to come back. You eyes glanced at your watch now, then back at the quickly darkening view outside. 

“...severe snowstorm has blocked some of the main roads in the city at the moment. Expect heavy traffic and don’t forget to drive safely.”

You turned to the television now to catch the last of the rambling dialogue of the reporter about the weather. You’ve been debating on whether to call Taeyong or not to check on him, but you didn’t want to seem impatient to go home when you only really wanted to make sure if he’s safe. From the looks of it, he’s stuck somewhere because of the hale, too.

You were on your way to get your phone from your bag to at least try to shoot him a message when you suddenly heard it ring. Getting it just in time, you almost sighed in relief when you saw his number there. You quickly took it and went over to the window to answer it to make sure you get some proper signal.

“Hello? Taeyong?”

“Hey. Finally. I’ve been trying to call you for the last hour, thank god it finally connected.”

“Oh, sorry, my phone’s in my bag. I think the signal’s getting bad because of the snowstorm. Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, about that, I’m still stuck in town. The traffic’s so bad here because a section of the main road is blocked. Road maintenance is supposed to come thirty minutes ago but I think there’s a delay because there are other roads they are working on.”

Your gaze drifted back to the television where scenes of the same blocked avenues were being flashed. “Yeah… the news says the same.  Are you safe though?”

“I am. I’m really sorry for making you wait. I’d tell you to drive back and not wait for me anymore but I don’t think you’ll also make it home in time with all this traffic going on. I don’t think it’s going to be safe. Do you mind waiting for a little bit more? I’ll tell you once the roads are better.”

You thought it over quickly, a frown settling on your face. You really want to go home, but he’s right. There’s no point in trying to drive back if you’ll only find yourself stuck in the roads for hours. Not being a big fan of night driving yourself, you can already imagine the stress waiting for you if you add a snowstorm to the mix. As much as you wanted to leave, you’re left with no choice, at least for the moment.

 “I can… I’ll just wait for you, I guess. Do you want me to do anything here while you’re gone? Dinner for the boys?”

“Oh no, no, you don’t need to do that, that’s not part of your job,” Taeyong sounded abashed when he said that. You stepped away from the window then and took a seat by the fireplace that Jeno started earlier. Half of your concentration was on the news which has now shifted to a different set of reports also caused by the snowstorm. “They’ll know when to go down and eat. Don’t worry about them. Where are they right now?”

“Ah, I think they went back to their rooms? I did tell them earlier that I’ll try to wait for you.”

“I see. Yes, I think that’s better. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you updated. If things don’t get better, I think I’ll have no other choice but find a hostel here and wait for the weather to calm down. You can stay there and just ask for help from any of them. You can stay in the same room just in case.”

You didn’t quickly react to the offer. Instead, your eyes flickered to the doorway of the room before refocusing your attention back to the conversation. It’s not like you have anything against spending the night again at the manor—you’ve done it before, after all—but it’s honestly not really something you’re comfortable to do again. Maybe it’s because you’ve never really been okay with overstaying at strangers’ houses but your gut feel is also telling you right now that it shouldn’t be your top option regardless of the situation you are in.

Still, you didn’t want to come off rude to Taeyong, not when he is only being kind to offer you temporary shelter while being stuck in the middle of nowhere himself. So instead, you went against your initial doubts and offered him your thanks in return. It’s just Plan B that he’s proposing after all. 

“I will. Keep me updated though if you need anything you think I can help with.”

“Thank you and I will. I have to go now though. Please make yourself at home. I’ll try to call again after an hour.”

“Okay. Take care.”

You put your phone down now with a worried frown as you heard the line drop. You couldn’t believe this is happening the first day you got back to work but it’s not like you can really blame anyone for it. The only good thing is that you’re sure Jaehyun is being taken care of right now so that is at least one thing off your shoulders. You didn’t really need to rush anywhere, not especially to a vacant home. Leaning back against your seat, you tried your best to relax as your gaze travelled around the room once again. You deliberated on sending a text to your mother-in-law to tell her about your situation but decided against it, not wanting to worry her more. You sighed. For now, you guess you didn’t have any other choice but to wait.

You did try to distract yourself by watching the news for a few more minutes before finally giving up on it. With resignation, you picked yourself up from your seat again and turned the television off. For a moment you simply stood in the middle of the room, trying to figure out what to do with your time when your gaze settled on the door again. Everyone retreated to their own rooms after they finished with their lessons so it means the house is pretty much yours for exploring if you wanted to. You toyed with the idea for a little bit, before finally resigning yourself to it. It’s not like there really is anything else left for you to do, and Taeyong did say you can make yourself feel at home if you wanted to. With a sigh, you finally turned on your heels to leave the room and peered silently into the hallway. It was deserted as expected, but still your eyes travelled left and right to check if there’s anyone out and about at this hour. It was only after you made sure that you were alone when you finally allowed yourself to step into the corridor.

Of course, you have a plan. You’re pretty much sure that checking out the rooms on the first floor is acceptable since it’s where you’ve been rotating your classes so you’re going to stick to those areas. You remember finding a library there once and you focused on finding your way to it to maybe check out some of the books in the collection. 

It did take you about five minutes to finally find the place you were looking for. For some reason, the sections in the manor always confuse you no matter how many times you try to memorize each one, probably because of how big and similar-looking they are on the outside. You’ve already tried four doors when you were finally welcomed by the familiar-looking bookshelves at the fifth one. You sighed and gave one quick look around the room before slipping yourself inside after making sure that you’re alone.

There will probably never be a time when you won’t find yourself fascinated by anything in this grand home. If the architecture of the mansion is not enough to convince anyone how rich the family is, their book collection is enough to assure that at the very least. You’ve only ever taken a quick glimpse of it once during one of your lessons with the boys, but one look of the titles in their shelves is enough to make any literature major excited. You looked at the floor to ceiling collection now, your fingers gently running over the spines of the books you could reach with a small smile on your face.

You were about to check out the rest of the collection on the other side of the wall when something in the middle of the room caught your attention. You didn’t really catch it at first because of the shadows that concealed it when you first came in, but you could pretty much discern the outline of a blanket covered standee now from where you stood. You frowned. Taking careful steps, you closed the distance towards it to try and figure out what exactly it is that you’re seeing.

A closer look revealed it to be an easel covered with white cloth. You could see the outline of the canvas where the blanket falls over it while shadows of colors peeked out into the thin fabric from the surface it was covering. How odd… you knew that Renjun had a different art room for his paintings so to see this now here in the middle of the library seems uncanny.

You didn’t know how long you remained standing in front of it, too. You know you should have walked away—after all, the white cloth hiding it away from plain view means whatever is on that canvas is not meant for everyone’s eyes to see, but you simply couldn’t tear yourself away from it. It’s as if there was a silent force asking you to pull that cloth to reveal what’s underneath, the inclination so strong that you could almost hear its voice breathing down next to your ear, unrelenting until you do what it says.

The next thing you know, you had your hand attached to one end of the fabric. You stared at it now, wondering last minute if you should go ahead or not. You swallowed and glanced around one last time around the room. If you’re alone… it wouldn’t hurt if you could take a peek, right? Nobody will know. You just have to see, then cover it back again. Before you could even think about it too much, your arm was finally moving on its own as it gently tugged at the covering. You watched as it fell gently on the floor, like a bodiless ghost melting into the shadows on the ground.

Your eyes couldn’t make out what you were seeing at first. The dim lighting of the room wasn’t helping at all, but you were sure that it was a woman’s silhouette that was staring back at you from the canvas. Colors swirled around her, like some unknown mass trying to drag her back into unknown depths. Shapes and tones jumped from the picture, but her form stood out from the rest, gracefully twisted as if she was in the middle of trying to fight and succumb to it at the same time. You frowned. Taking a step closer towards it, you tried to study its details under what little illumination the lamps above afforded you.

That’s when it all happened simultaneously. Your heart stopped beating the same time your eyes widened as they finally focused on what’s in front of them. It’s as if the ground suddenly vanished from underneath your feet and you were falling, falling, deep into the abyss despite your body being frozen in fear and shock.

You know this painting. You’ve seen it before. It was the same one by Renjun, the one that you saw on your first day working in the manor.

But it was different now. Instead of the unfinished state that caught your attention before, everything about the picture now is in sharp focus. The lines on the woman’s nude body, the hands—which you thought were simply dark swirls dragging her back—and her face twisted beautifully in pleasure and madness stared back at you like a nightmare.

But it was not those which truly shook you to your core. It’s the realization that it was your own face in the portrait that was staring back at you, silently screaming for you to run away.

You stumbled back in shock. Your chest felt tight as you tried to grasp for air while your hands fumbled to find something to hold on to keep you from crashing on the ground. Before you could even take another step, however, something hard hit your back and you felt strong arms wrap around your waist like a vice. You have barely realized what was happening when you felt someone lean over your shoulder, lips pressing against the shell of your ear.

“Isn’t it beautiful? You’re the perfect muse, don’t you think?” Renjun asked softly as he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple.

******* You didn’t know how long you stayed frozen in his embrace. For a brief moment you thought you were dreaming again until you felt his arms slowly tighten around your waist. As if a jolt of electricity shocked you, you immediately turned to push him away as you scrambled to put some distance between the two of you.

Renjun didn’t seem the least bothered when your eyes finally focused on him. He remained on his spot, his gaze on you unwavering. You, meanwhile, were shaking from head to toe, the vision of the painting still branded vividly in your head.

“Renjun—what’s this?” you managed to stutter as you pointed at the artwork in the middle of the room. You couldn’t even spare to look at it again while he merely gave it a casual glance.

“It’s you. I’ve been working on it for a long time. I was about to show it to you but it seems like you couldn’t wait for it yourself.”

You felt nauseous. A part of your rational mind was slowly losing it as you tried to process his answer. Something's not right. Something is so terribly wrong.

“Why—why did you do this?”

Renjun simply stared at you and leaned his head a little bit to the side as if he was only mildly curious of your reaction. Your stomach turned even before hearing his answer.

“You said it’s beautiful.”

“This is not right—!”

“I came home because they said you were leaving for good,” he continued speaking softly, effectively cutting you from what you were about to say. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end and you took another step back as you watched him get close to his artwork. You watched in horror as his thin fingers lovingly ran over the corners of the canvas. “Jaemin almost lost it… It’s a good thing I got here on time.”

And just like that, everything seemed to have clicked into place. The glances, the touches, the words that seemed to have a different undercurrent under them… they weren’t just fragments of your imagination. Every little thing that has gnawed at you from the inside came into crystal clear focus and you felt your knees go weak from the weight of it all. It took every fiber of your being to try and keep yourself steady now, your legs moving on their own as they took small backward steps away from the boy staring at you now with dead eyes. You couldn’t breathe, but it was the last words he told you that finally snapped you to run.

“I don’t think you’ve realized it yet. But no, you cannot leave. Ever.”

You didn’t know where you got the energy for it but in seconds you were flying out of that room and running blindly down the darkened corridors. Your blood pumped noisily in your ears and your chest felt like it was going to split from the sudden exertion you put on it, but you didn’t stop, not even looking back as you tried to put as much distance between you and the library. You didn’t even know where you were going. All you’re focused on is to find the exit and leave the house as soon as possible.

A loud bang that sounded off to your right startled you and you screamed, the force of your shock making you whip around and almost lose your balance. Before you could even hit the floor, however, a pair of hands caught you and you immediately turned, grasping at the chest of your rescuer.

You froze. Haechan smiled down at you as he tried to steady you on your feet.

“Haechan,” you gasped as you took fistfuls of his shirt and tried to shake him in your panic. “Renjun—he’s—please, help me. He’s after me—” you gasped out, almost out of your wits. You’re on the verge of a total breakdown that it almost escaped you, the way he simply smiled down on your shaking form. It was only when you felt one of his hands gently caress the top of your head that reality slapped you in the face again. You suddenly stopped struggling in his hold, pupils shaking as you watched him study your features lovingly.

“Shh… it’s fine. I got you,” he whispered and you could swear ice pricked you from the inside. A slight movement to the right made you turn your head and you saw Jaemin lean casually against the banister of the stairs, his face serene. He gave you one quick look before a gentle smile finally lit up his features.

“Has it started?” he asked and you felt Haechan’s hold on you tighten.

“It has.”

You didn’t struggle. It was as if any trace of fight you had left you in that moment and you let your hands fall limply on your sides. Haechan also loosened his grip on you and you stared at the two boys blankly, your chest heaving as if fighting for air. They didn’t move from their spots and simply followed you with their eyes as if relishing the fear and realization flashing in your face.

Trapped.

You’re trapped.

You’ve always been.

You didn’t even realize that your legs had started moving again on their own as the pieces of the puzzle started to fall together in your mind. You were only shaken from it when your back finally hit the front door, the cold metal of the knob pressing against your spine. Jaemin and Haechan remained on their spots still, even as you blindly reached out for it from behind.

You were expecting it to be locked, so you were a little bit surprised when you felt it give way under your hand when you tried to turn it open. Just before you could even entertain the idea of escaping, however, any trace of hope you had quickly died as you turned and came face to face with Jeno standing right in front of the entrance. He didn’t look the least surprised seeing you there, as if he was waiting for you in the first place.

You eyes took in his calm countenance before slowly moving to stare downwards at what he was holding by his side. Your gaze locked on it in fear, and that’s when the flight response in you flared up again.

Jeno’s hunting rifle shone dully in the light of the entryway, his pale fingers wrapped on its handle.

“There’s really only one place you can run, noona, but I won’t advise it,” he said evenly and you felt your blood freeze in your veins.

“After all, no matter where you hide, I’ll still find you in that forest.”

It happened all at once. You broke into a run, your body screaming at you to go faster as you heard gunshots pierce the air.

---

CHAPTER 7

A/N: Good lord, I wasn’t expecting I’d finish this today but I got one large iced coffee and well... things happened. Anyway, enjoy! Let’s hope the format won’t mess up this time. T.T Finally, all hell broke loose~ <3

Tag list! 

@negincho, @jhornytrash, @jaeminhyuckiii, @jungwoosswhore​, @jsturkey, @aj-7, @pukupukupawpau, @tomiesgirlfren, @vsszn, @those-winternights, @xsnelly, @lihyuck, @laheyspizza, @miyeux27, @haoshitt, @mindofthescattered, @huangberryyy, @d1nne, @choppedupcactus, @neokat​, @yutasnabi​

"Only in allowing her to pass..." — Hornet, The Radiance, and the means by which Hallownest turned its victims against each other

A quick note: I read Hollow Knight as an anti-colonialist text. As such I'll be touching on topics related to colonialism as it's depicted in the world of the game, and said analysis will reflect both a sympathetic take on The Radiance and a critique of The Pale King that won't pull its punches. If this sounds up your alley, hello and thank you for the read! Let us be sad about these bugs together.

———

So!! A while back I realized something about pre-canon that felt rather... "curious" is one way to put it, I think. To wit: for all the effort and scheming and determination The Pale King poured into trying to get rid of The Radiance, neither of his plans involved directly killing her.

Was that his long game? Well, sure, that seems clear enough. His tack changed from luring the moths away from their god and creator to a more literal form of incarceration once the infection became a factor, but at its core the end goal never really changed—The Pale King very sincerely wished to destroy Radiance via obsolescence. The Seer lends us foreshadowing to confirm as much:

[Image descriptions: Two screenshots from Hollow Knight, showing the Seer and Ghost in the Seer's alcove at the Resting Grounds. Across both screenshots, the Seer tells Ghost the following: "None of us can live forever, and so we ask those who survive to remember us. Hold something in your mind and it lives on with you, but forget it and you seal it away forever. That is the only death that matters." End description.]

(Which, by the way and given the context, talk about an extremely unsubtle allusion to cultural genocide huh!!! Whew.)

In any case, we're left with a whole bunch of machinations which build up to... well, two very roundabout attempts at committing deicide. That's kind of weird, all things considered! Why not just do the deed in one fell swoop and get it over with?

This could be for any number of reasons. Maybe the king was devoid of the means to instantly kill another higher being. Maybe his personal sense of scruples stopped him short of signing off on MURDER murder (although, y'know, the aforementioned genocide + eternal imprisonment = still cool and copasectic apparently!). Maybe the long drawn-out cruelty was the point. Maybe the idea of playing fuckign 4D chess with the circumstances was too delicious for him to pass up—that man did love to tinker and stick his claws where they sure as hell didn't belong—or maybe it was a little bit of All The Things. Who knows!!

But interrogating The Pale King's methodology on this count isn't what I'm here for, at least not really. The main reason I raise this question at all is that in her own way, Hornet did too.

"I'd urge you to take that harder path... "

See, going by The Pale King's actions and what The White Lady explicitly says, they both foresaw two outcomes wrt the infection: it can be allowed to spread, or it can be contained. At Teacher's Archives, Quirrel acknowledges the fact that Ghost is expected to do... something about this, but he doesn't elaborate on what HE thinks that's supposed to be apart from the obvious "Gotta bust into Black Egg Temple first". Hornet is the one person who presents to us—to Ghost—what's framed as a third option: confront and destroy the infection at its source.

And she doesn't bring it up like it's just another tactic for Ghost to consider, prim and indifferent to what they would do. She nudges them towards it, actively, up to the point where she throws herself into the fray against Hollow at a juncture that's uniquely dangerous to her and her alone just to make that option feasible.

Even when she's couching it in disclaimers that this is still Ghost's decision to make (and let's be fair, she's extremely not wrong about that lol), no one can pretend Hornet is unbiased. It's obvious in that buttoned-down Hornet kind of way that she is way the hell done with the increasingly tenuous stalemate that's kept Hallownest's desiccated corpse from collapsing in on itself. Personally it's hard for me not to read some Toriel Undertale-esque "My father was too entrenched in his own foolishness to pursue any course of action that would have DEFINITIVELY ended this" shade into her stance here, regardless of whether that's strictly true in canon.

And that bit—Hornet's hopes for an end to Hallownest's stasis, moreover her grim calculation of what needs to be done to get there—that's the bit I find super interesting but likewise tragic and depressing as shit, on multiple levels. In no small part because a) canon itself gestures towards Hornet feeling conflicted about the very plan she's pushing, and moreover b) she has at least two (2) damn good reasons to feel that way.

So, what do I mean by that? Let's look here first:

[Image description: A screenshot from Hollow Knight, of Hornet and Ghost inside the Temple of the Black Egg, standing in front of the unsealed egg itself. Hornet has been struck by the Dream Nail and her dialogue is displayed as follows: "... Could it achieve that impossible thing? Should it?" End description.]

As the curtain is about to drop on things one way or another, Hornet thinks,

... Could it achieve that impossible thing? Should it?

Now, looking at that last bit it's easy to go "Oh no, Hornet's worried that Ghost won't survive killing The Radiance!" And I do think that's part of it: Hornet is, categorically, not her father. By endgame it's clear she's not content to view her Void-borne siblings as tools to be used then disposed of. She's also well aware that as a healthy autonomous Vessel amongst the countless dead, Ghost is the only person left alive who has a fighting chance against The Radiance. Knowing someone is the only qualified candidate for the job doesn't make encouraging them to embrace a probable death sentence any less of a bitter pill to swallow, though. And odds are on that this sentiment extends to Hollow too, who IS going to die no matter what happens here. To put it bluntly, it's more than reasonable to conclude that Hornet hates the absolute fuck out of this.

But I don't think that's all there is to it either. Remember what I said earlier about The Pale King's bids for genocide? Well, it's not like the man deigned to limit his efforts to just the moth tribe.

"We do not choose our mothers... "

On top of everything else—an infected Hallownest being all she's ever known, the fact that she only exists because of the infection, the list goes on—Hornet has spent her life wedged into a position that's been uncomfortable and terminally unglamorous at best: she is both a daughter of her father's kingdom and of Deepnest.

Deepnest, which like the moths and many others was here long before the wyrm and his lady wife swanned onto the scene and the God Become Bug laid claim to everything the Light touched plus a considerable amount of change. THAT Deepnest, which has fought claw and thread to retain its sovereignty against same-said settler king, and for which Herrah not only surrendered her life but also agreed to bed her worst enemy, all in hopes of securing a viable future for her people (put a pin in that last part by the way, I'll come back to it soon).

Two Worlds, One Family (Ft. An Indigenous Woman Trying Her Damndest To Work With What She's Got Versus An Imperialist Who Only Signed Up For This Because He Needed The Political Favor THAT Badly, So It's The Height Of Dysfunctional Actually). Fun times!!!!

The baggage this entails for Hornet is gnarly enough without implications made by The White Lady and the pre-canon timeline of events and even Team Cherry's dev notes that the king may well have looked at baby Hornet, gone "YOINK", then ensured she spent the lion's share of her childhood reared within the pearly auspices of his Pale Court*. That would be rather advantageous for Him Specifically after all, the potential to mold a born foe into a future ally and even have her trained in combat under the same tutelage as her doomed sibling. And far be it from him to stop a grown Hornet—his own flesh and blood too!—from making Deepnest her forever home if she so pleased. He totally wouldn't be reneging on his "fair bargain made" by doing this one simple thing until Hornet came of age, not t e c h nic c a l l y.

If that is indeed the case, there's a non-zero chance Hornet's formative years were a hot mess of cultural alienation and being a good deal more privy than most to just how much of a bastard her father could be. There's an equally non-zero chance that at some point she stood or sat within earshot as The Pale King finally, finally dropped all pretense and euphemism to name the Light for precisely what (for who) it was.

See, in conjunction with the question that started this whole dang train of thought I've been asking this one too: Does Hornet know? When she speaks of confronting "the heart of [the] infection" does she know she's talking about not just a literal person but someone very specific? The Radiance, who god though she may be shares skin in the game alongside Hornet as a native woman screwed over by the same settler king, likewise deprived of her kin and saddled with a life gone horrendously pear-shaped?

I'll assume for the sake of exploring the possibility and because I think it's a likely one anyway that yes, Hornet does know. She knows, and despite everything can't help empathizing. She might even look at Radiance and see bits and pieces both reflected and slightly inversed in her own mother: Radiance was forced to the sidelines while her people—her children, the brood she was meant to lead and care for—died out under The Pale King's rule, and it's no stretch to assume she's at least as upset about that as she has been about everything else; Herrah too took drastic measures for her people's sake, trying to head off annihilation by relegating herself to the sidelines in an act that was as much calculated risk as an attempt to find wiggle room and leverage in the face of a nasty proposition.

A calculated risk that, if things continue as they are, might well amount to nothing as the rest of Deepnest gets eaten alive by the infection. It survived The Pale King's advances for so so long, only to fall here. Herrah's sacrifice would be for naught; the other tribes—themselves the king's victims—would keep succumbing to the infection too.

And this is where things fall apart.

"... or the circumstance into which we are born."

Let's be clear: I think Hornet is wise enough to know what's what here, that all the carnage and suffering falls on her father's head for starting this slow-motion trainwreck in the first place. Hallownest wasn't always Hallownest. This domain was Radiance's home first, along with many others. It was the worm-turned-king who rolled up on the scene unsolicited and decided this was a ""'problem""" that had to be """solved""".

But the fact of the matter is that he's gone and The Radiance is here, raging, seemingly inconsolable. Above and beyond being Deepnest's rightful heir, Hornet isn't in a position to countenance more splash damage even if the grief and fury fueling it makes perfect sense. She can understand without ever bringing herself to love Radiance, and she can bend her knee to practicality even if she hates the everloving shit out of it because the fact that it "has" to end this way isn't fair.

This lends itself to one last awful conclusion: that Hornet has probably considered and (rightly or wrongly) discarded the possibility that Radiance can be saved, at least not without dragging more collateral along for the ride. If even her mother and every other enemy to the king seemed to dismiss talking Radiance down as an option way back when... well. Why should Hornet hope for any better after things have escalated so far?

Again, it's practical. A practical net good is what Hornet strives for. And again, it fucking sucks.

For extra tragedy points, this makes Hornet's extended crypticness around Ghost followed by her last minute casting about for a reason to tell them "Wait, don't; not just yet" that she never voices even more of a gut punch. She can't bring herself to burden Ghost with the context that haunts her so, least of all when it might weaken their resolve to go through with what (she thinks) needs doing.

It's the "same song, different verse" which led to the mantis tribe and Deepnest being pitted against each other: Hallownest rigged the game so that two women who could have been powerful allies—who have a mutual vested interest in driving out settler rule—wound up poised as enemies instead. And how awful is that? The king for all his being extremely fucking dead still gets the last laugh, because outside of a miracle the game never manifests Hornet can salvage what her mother started and look forward to a future where Deepnest pulls itself back from the brink if and only if The Radiance dies.

Resolution comes at the price of a completed genocide. Add two more dead siblings to the unconscionable pile thereof, while we're at it. That's what it boils down to whether or not Hornet can bear to articulate it as such, and there's no grace or even a properly bittersweet ending to wring from this clusterfuck. And that is rough.

———

* This has been better explained elsewhere, but a quick rundown: The White Lady tells Ghost that Hornet and Herrah "were permitted little time together." On its surface this can be taken to mean that Hornet was still very young when Herrah was shipped off to Eternal Dreamland—except this doesn't jive with the fact that we meet Hornet as an adult. If the stasis kicked in once the Dreamers went to their rest, which in turn halted the aging process for every living bug in Hallownest, AND before all this Hornet experienced little by the way of quality time with her birth mother... I think you can see where I'm going with this.

To top it off we've got Team Cherry weighing in ominously from their dev notes on Herrah: "As part of the agreement for her alliance and her role as a dreamer, King gave her a child (Hornet). Was she allowed to keep this child or was she taken away?" This isn't confirmation by itself of course, but given additional canon details (see above): Can I get a "yikes" in the chat fellas.

100 Days of Writing: Day Sixty-Three

I decided to catch up on The 100 Days of Writing and then I... accidentally wrote a large number of words. In my defense, this is like 2 weeks’ worth of questions. Also I skipped the ones I didn’t have anything to say about so actually this could be worse.

(I’m not even kidding, this is really long. I talk about writing rituals, tools for plotting, my thoughts on opening with dialogue and why I don’t like it, my favorite topics, the weather, and what length of fic I like to write.)

I’m tagging, and apologizing to, @the-wip-project and fellow participants @she-who-the-river-could-not-hold, @thelittlefanpire, @hopskipaway, @easilydistractedbyfanfic, @dylanobrienisbatman, and @fontainebleau22.

*

Day 49: How do you get yourself in the mood to write? Do you have a ritual?

Every time I tell myself I’m going to get back into doing these questions, I see this one in my bookmarks and go nope! and turn around. It’s not a hard question; I’ve just been having trouble consistently getting into the mood to write, so I feel like any answer I try to give to it will be, in some sense, a lie. Like do I ever get “in the mood” to write? Really?? Also, I feel like I’m relying too much on ‘ritual,’ building up ‘the perfect writing situation’ in my head, which at the end of the day is less important than just saying ‘I’m going to do this now’ and then doing it.

I do have some things I always do when I sit down to a writing session. I write on my couch. Almost always (unless I’m on an event deadline where I just have to write in bits and pieces whenever possible), I write in sprints—I use write or die to keep me actually typing and not staring into space. I write in order, and I often write a whole scene at a time. So before I start I need to have at least a couple solid opening sentences in mind, plus some kind of idea about what happens/needs to happen in the scene. In order to get in the right headspace, I usually spend some time just thinking before I actually get to writing. I reread my outline or notes, and skim whatever I might have already written on the project. Sometimes I look at images that help me get in the right mood. Sometimes I just imagine or daydream for a bit. The difficulty, especially recently, is in making sure I do this just enough and not too much, because then I get too caught up in my head and I can no longer translate what I’m seeing into words.

In a broader sense, I also have a building up to writing ritual—again, I think this is part of my problem, that I don’t know how to balance this build up with actual writing. In the hours/days before writing something, I turn it over in my head a lot. I practice different versions of those critical opening sentences. I play it out like a fantasy just to see if there’s a possible flow, even if the final version is different. Basically, I try to turn it into something that just needs to be written, that just needs to get out. But again—this can lead to overthinking and frustration.

The best way I can describe writing for me is that, when it goes well, I find a rhythm, or enter into a zone, where I can describe the images in my head in a way that’s both accurate and pleasant to read. But entering that zone or finding that rhythm is like jumping into a game of jump rope. If you don’t do it right, you’re just going to trip over your feet and get tangled in the rope. But if you do it correctly, it’s fun and exhilarating and you can keep jumping for a long time. Sometimes it takes me some false starts to jump in. And recently I’ve been having days where I just can’t at all, where I tangle the rope up so much I can’t unknot it. Those are the days I just have the same sentences repeating over and over in my head, sounding wrong, and I can’t do anything about it. On the other hand, I write in much longer sprints than I did a couple years ago. I used to only write partial scenes, maybe a few hundred words. Now I can write whole scenes without stopping, and on a few occasions, I’ve written multiple scenes or even whole stories without stopping. So in other words, when it works,  it really works. But it doesn’t always, and there’s not a lot of in between.

*

Day 50 What fic/story made you?

Um… honestly I’ve been writing, in general and fic specifically, for such a long time that I didn’t have a ‘maybe I can do this’ moment. I mean one problem I’ve never had is thinking I can’t do this. I had positive reinforcement for my school and academic writing, and for a long time my fictional stories were just for me, and I knew what I liked. Even just thinking about my fic writing… I’ve been posting fic online since 2006, and I’ve been in multiple fandoms. I don’t really have much connection to a lot of those early stories anymore. They feel like they were written by someone else, a little. I’ve also moved on from most of the fandoms I wrote for in my early fic days so I don’t feel like I can really judge them anymore.

That said… there is kinda an obvious answer for my Star Trek fic lol. I also have favorite stories, and stories that stick out even years after I wrote them, in all (or at least most) of the fandoms I’ve been in. But I’m not sure if that’s the same.

Also, I had two teachers who were really encouraging of me and who I still think about often. One was my seventh grade English teacher, who had us do a lot of writing exercises of various types, both large and small, including keeping writing journals we wrote in every day at the start of class. He once told my mom that I wrote well, not for a seventh grader, but in general, and to be honest I still think of that with some regularity and take a lot of pride and comfort in it. The other was my creative writing professor in college. I don’t think I did my best work for that class, but she was very encouraging and seemed to like what I did. At the end of the semester, as I was preparing my portfolio, she told me that if I didn’t want to do much editing, I didn’t have to, because my unedited work would stand on its own. Again, especially considering all the problems that I saw with my writing for that class even then, I really took that comment to heart. When I’m feeling very self-critical, I remind myself that even my raw scribblings have, perhaps, something to them, and it helps ease the excessive and unwarranted pressure I put on myself. These aren’t really stories about specific writing pieces that ‘made’ me but I do think they speak to that ‘maybe I can do this’ feeling.

*

Day 51: Do you use tools for plotting and what are they?

So, generally, no. Sometimes I’ll look at various writing/plotting/organizational tools as a method of distraction, but my actual process is very simple. I use plain old notebooks and pens, and word documents on my computer, to plan all my fics, from the one-shots to the multi-chapters. I start by writing down general thoughts and brainstorming, then I build a scene list and/or outline, and then, if necessary, I separate the scenes lists into chapters. Sometimes I break down the scenes even more, if I have additional ideas I don’t wan to forget or if I know I need to hit certain points in a specific scene. The process varies a little bit from project to project, but that’s basically all I do.

I did use Evernote to plan the (still unwritten….) Ark AU. I don’t know if that was the best program choice or if something else exists that would have more precisely met my needs. But that’s what I used and that’s how it is. It’s a little annoying that every time I open it, it’s been updated, and the interface looks totally different and I have to relearn where everything is. But the tagging system has worked decently to allow me to see the big picture of this complex, multi-strand, multi-character, multi-ship disaster epic of a story. I struggled to plot it for a long time because I didn’t know how to balance all of the different parts. In Evernote, I made one ‘note’ for each character, and one for each scene (in addition to miscellaneous notes about sub plots, relationships, questions, etc.). Then I tagged each of them, including tagging the scenes by chapter. So now I can look at a list of all the characters, or all the scenes, or all of the scenes in chapter 8, or whatever, but I can also look at just one particular note at a time, and not be distracted by anything else. That said, I do also have one note that is just a total scene list for the whole fic, which is pretty reminiscent of my usual outlining process.

So… somehow this helped me plot (tentatively) the whole thing, but as I’ve written almost none of it—I finished outlining this in February 2020 so in my defense… I think you can see why it stalled—I’m not yet sure if it was a successful experiment in a ‘plotting tool.’

*

Day 60: How do you start your chapters? Do you start with dialogue? Why or why not?

While I am definitely against prescriptive “writing rues” generally, as my own personal rule, I try not to start with dialogue unless I have a very good reason.

To be quite honest, I think it’s lazy. I do think that dialogue openings can be used well, if the writer acknowledges that they are intensely stylistic and, from a reader’s perspective, quite difficult. Even within fanfiction, where a line of dialogue (especially if accompanied by a dialogue tag or swiftly followed by a reference to the speaker) gives a lot more information to the reader than in original fiction, opening with dialogue still shoves the reader directly into the deep end of the scene, with very little to orient her. WHERE is the speaker? WHO is being addressed in the dialogue? WHAT is the context of the conversation? Who ELSE might be present in the scene?

There are reasons you might want to throw the reader in the aforementioned deep-end. Maybe it’s an in media res situation and you want to emphasize the overwhelming nature of the action—starting a scene with “Get down!” for example. Or maybe the overall mood is one of disorientation or floating or uncertainty, and you want to create the same effect in the reader.

But I think if you’re starting a scene with dialogue because that’s the first thing that comes to mind for you—the person who conveniently already has the setting, character list, and even future plot already in mind—and it’s just simplest and easiest to start that way, you’re doing a disservice to the reader.

For example, I actually am planning to start the next chapter of the Sleeping Beauty AU with dialogue. My POV character is in a room with multiple other characters, and she’s examining something meaningful to her and not fully listening to the conversation around her. So I want the dialogue to float around in the background, to feel unmoored, and to stand in contrast to the very precise, detailed thoughts and memories that she’s experiencing, which are grounded in physical sensations like touch.

I haven’t quite gotten it to work yet, though, in part because opening with dialogue and doing it well is, in my opinion, quite hard. The difficulty lies in alleviating the challenges the reader is experiencing and making the text fluid and easy to picture. You need to get all of that scene-setting information—the who, what, when, where, and why—in very quickly, but without being jarring. In this scene in particular, I have multiple characters, all in a comparatively unusual location, and I need to establish where they are, who exactly is there, how they’ve come to meet my POV character (which happens ‘off screen’ between the end of Ch5 and the beginning of Ch6), all on top of the character’s thoughts and feelings.

I know all of this very well. To picture the scene in my own head takes only a moment. I just think about it and I see all seven of the characters, where they’re sitting, how they’re positioned, what their facial expressions are, and I also know roughly what each of them is thinking and feeling. To describe all of this in words would take several sentences. Do I put all those sentences on the front end? Do I weave them in among other description and dialogue? Is all of it even necessary—maybe we don’t need to know who’s sitting in what order on the couch, for example.

I’ve gone over a couple of different ways to do this in my head, and I’m sure it is possible, but I’m struggling to get it all down in a coherent way. (Admittedly, I’ve only made one solid attempt. As I was describing above, I’m probably going to jump in with several false starts, and then it will suddenly click.)

My initial attempt to set up the scene relied heavily on dialogue, but when I read it over, what sounded snappy and interesting in my head just fell completely flat—because it lacked context and thus, any meaning. I think the gulf between how dialogue openings feel to the writer and how they feel to the reader is large. To the writer, they feel easy and natural. To the reader, they can feel forced and, contrary to the writer’s intention, serve as an additional reminder that this is a constructed narrative rather than an immersive experience—the opposite of natural. In other words, as I said, they’re a highly stylized form of writing.

To illustrate, this was my first try at the Chapter 6 intro:

"I still can't believe it," a lightly awed voice says from somewhere behind Clarke. "The Princess of Alpha Station really used to live in our quarters.”

She pictures Miller, sunk into the couch cushions, slowly shaking his head, the expression on his face equal parts satisfied and amused.

"Really? That's what you think is the oddest part of all this?"

"Yeah, Bry, I do. Would you prefer I gloat? About being right this whole time? Who says she's just a legend now?"

My current idea is to still start with dialogue, but to move back into a significant amount of description pretty immediately afterward, and only then add more dialogue. Even this is a little hazy, since I haven’t thought much about this fic in a while. But I do think it’s quite clear this won’t work.

As for how I DO start chapters/scenes/stories… I like to start with a strong image that sets the scene and mood of the story, and hopefully leaves the reader wanting to know more. Here are some examples of story openings I’ve written recently, which I like a lot:

When Bellamy is angered, deafening bouts of thunder shake the heavens.

The cawing of the crows—high, sharp, angry shots of sound. The buzzing of the telephone wires.

Marcus Kane's body shows up again in June, skeletal and rotting, six months after his disappearance at the turn of the year.

The sky has turned a bruised yellow, like the inside of a plum, by the time Bellamy starts seeing the robots in the fields.

At noon on the third-to-last day before Christmas, Murphy leaves the cafe, with a single peppermint mocha and a small paper bag, and heads right, walking parallel to the ocean.

The last one doesn’t seem as interesting but consider: you get the who, what, when, and where, the mystery of the paper bag and where he might be going, and also the immediate understanding that this is probably going to be a Fluffy Beach Christmas story—which is correct, that’s exactly what it is.

I’m not saying that I’m always creative or unique. I often start stories off with descriptions of the weather. And I have committed the ~~cardinal sin~~ of starting with a character waking up, heaven forbid. I don’t have any hard and fast rules for myself other than that I try to avoid dialogue, or at least, be careful about its use (another example: I use dialogue to start off Mad Women—but it reads like narration, until it’s rudely interrupted, a sort of in-joke/reference/twist). I try to match the mood of the story and, as I said, include something that will create a question for the reader, some version of why, that the rest of the story will answer.

*

Day 61: Do you describe the weather? Try changing a scene you wrote by adding weather effects.

After writing a book for the last question, here’s an easy one! Yes, I describe the weather. A lot. Often. In detail.

(Though if we’re talking about the Sleeping Beauty AU as my “current wip,” I actually don’t do much weather describing there, because 4 of the 6 chapters take place in a location with no weather.)

 *

Day 62: What is your favorite thing to write about?

Honestly I like to write about people being dramatic about their emotions. That’s what I’ve discovered while writing my surprisingly self-indulgent Troped fic: I want to describe people acting as if Everything was the Most Ever. It’s fun. Part of this is getting into the usual romantic tropes—longing, pining, exaggerated touches and glances and the like—but why stop at romance when you also have stuff like The Weather and Random Feelings to contemplate?

I also like setting scenes that I find soothing, which is part of why I like Seasonal Stories.

 *

Day 63: Are you more of a drabble/flash or a longfic/novel kind of writer?

I’m in the middle. I mostly write one-shots, and I’ve noticed that a lot of them fall in the 4-6k range. Long one-shots can get all the way to 10-12k but I feel like most of those are, semi-objectively speaking, too long, and would probably have been stronger if they were pruned down to 6k, or, better yet, never made it past 6k in the first place.

I have written some multi-chapters, or, uh, started multi-chapters, but I’m VERY bad at it. The only thing that makes me slightly less bad is being stubborn. Hence the existence of a WIP that I’ve had going for over 10 years now and refuse to call abandoned. Hence this year’s extended angst about the Sleeping Beauty AU, which is only 6 chapters but has taken me literally years to write. I don’t honestly know if I’ve ever finished a multi-chapter WIP, like, properly speaking. I’ve done some short multi-chapters that I wrote as if they were one-shots and then split up for ease of reading or, I dunno, just because. I wrote a Big Bang once, but it’s not very good. Nor very long, if I remember correctly. Generally speaking I probably shouldn’t be allowed to write novels lol—I have a lot of them in my ‘I should write this one day’ idea list—but as it so happens, no one can stop me, so here we are. I definitely have wild fantasies of writing multi-chapters with ease but I’m just a very slow writer and my ideas can’t keep up with my actual-writing. Thus one shots are much easier than multi-chaps, and one-shots on a deadline are much easier than ‘I’ll finish this whenever’ one-shots. One-shots written for events or exchanges also tend to be shorter (and, imo, better) because of the deadlines they’re written on, and are thus more likely to hit that sweet 4-6k spot than stories where I’m allowed to ramble at will.

All that said, I ALSO write a good number of drabbles/writing exercises. I used to write them more often than I do now, but still over the last five years I’ve produced 110,000+ words in free-standing scenes so like… that’s also a thing I guess.

Hiraeth Chapter 14: Affirmation

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Fourteen: Affirmation

Note: Sorry this chapter is a few hours late! I live in that part of Texas where all the bullshit is going on with the power. Woke up the morning to a $50 electric bill FOR ONE NIGHT. My apartment is only 1100 square feet. The bill was $12 the day before that. Let that one sink in. But anyway, this is one of my favorite chapters so far! Very exciting stuff! I hope you like it! 

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A gifted storyteller is capable of drawing their audience in. They are adept at holding a certain level of intrigue and suspense, forcing their audience to pay attention, lest they miss something crucial and ruin the experience for themselves. An inexperienced or lesser storyteller bored their audience or drove them away, serving as nothing more than a momentary distraction from the usual pace of their everyday lives. But under this very specific set of circumstances, no one present was sure where to place the experience they’d just suffered through. 

Each of them felt a great sense of conflict deep within themselves as they considered each and every word that they’d just heard. It was a strange and unsettling course of action, one that made them desire to do nothing more than curl up and withdraw from the subject at hand. They believed every word that they’d just heard, but they couldn’t tell if that was a good or a bad thing, especially when it came to the subject of the story that they had just been told. The fact that he was both the narrator and the main focus of the experience meant that it was entirely believable, but completely unfathomable, like a destiny nightmare that none of them wanted to look in the face. That would make it too real; give it too much power over them. But regardless of their stance on the matter, it had happened, and it did affect all of them to some varying degree.

V had always possessed a certain gift for speech, despite the fact that he wasn’t a man of many words. His tone, cantor, and temperament combined with a keen intellect and a nearly flawless combination of memory and repertoire meant that he was perhaps the most engaging person that they currently knew to talk to. But that entire combination became the absolute worst thing that someone could experience the moment that V decided that he needed to get the traumas of his past off of his chest and into the open air. After all, V was exceptionally strong-willed in regards to his emotions. When something affected him deeply, it tended to be negative, and it was almost certainly beyond the scope of what any of them wanted to know about. But if he was willing to give them a glimpse into his world, then they wanted to take the opportunity to peer inside and take in every bit of information that they could.

None of them really knew what to say when he seemed to reach the end of his horrifying tale of sadness and pain. Every word that he’d spoken had carried such a strong hint of anguish, terror, or apprehension that it made it physically unnerving to listen to, but as much as they now wished that they could take back the experience, they were grateful that he’d decided to share it with them. It put a lot of things into context that none of them had been able to understand before, and despite the fact that certain aspects of his life would now haunt them for the rest of time, they felt better for knowing them.

Was it possible to be grateful to someone for telling you something that you’d have been happy going your entire life without knowing? Because if it was, then they were. But if they weren’t, then would that make them too immature to comprehend the suffering of someone so near and dear to them? Was it selfish to desire ignorance while assuming that they were strong and powerful and possessed the necessary strength and tenacity to recon with such an experience, but simply chose not to in order to spare themselves the suffering that one who deemed himself weaker than them had already survived? Was that entire line of thinking too philosophical for a matter that was both so very complicated but oh so simple? None of them could say anything at the moment, so they didn’t say anything. They simply waited to be sure that V was either done talking, or that he was waiting for them to say something, anything to break up the tense silence that had settled across the snow like a blanket soaked in glue.

And after a while of waiting in silence, totally unsure as to what to do next, Vergil decided to break the silence between them. He’d never been one to follow the lead of others, and he sure wasn’t going to start now. And as far as the concept of taking the time to feel the weight of his words upon those who he’d directed them towards, he didn’t feel he had the time to waste. A direct approach was required in a situation like this, especially when there were so many questions that had been raised during his time speaking that could dissipate from his psyche like so much fog after a storm as a result of his prolonged wait. He had felt an intense desire to not interrupt V, owning to the fact that he feared that if he was stopped, he would love his nerve and decide that he didn’t’ wish to speak on such matters after all. But now that he was at least somewhat sure that his eldest son was done talking for the time being, he was ready to start asking questions. Best to catch him before his threshold for conversation was exceeded and he shut down like an engine in disrepair.

“...You said that you desired to pick a random direction and leave. Why?” Vergil adjusted his posture in his seat, his head coming to rest against his palm as his elbow planted itself firmly in the arm of the chair and the devil slayer in blue crossed his legs. It was all that he could do for the time being to placate the murderous rage that he felt brewing in the very back of his subconscious. Never had he desired to end the lives of so many people that he’d never met before. “And for that matter, where did your travels take you after that? Was the end result desirable?”

The young while haired summoner in black afforded himself a moment to ponder his father’s question before responding, unsure as to what to say. On its surface, it was a simple enough question. Vergil had no way of knowing how deep the answer had the potential of going. And it was a good question at that. It seemed that his father desired to simply take what had happened as an unwavering fact and build off of that, taking the time to let his mind settle before venturing forward. He believed him and didn’t seem to desire to question his motivations for doing anything that he’d done, respecting his capacity to make his own decisions. Or maybe even respecting the decisions themselves. He couldn’t be sure just yet. But there was a part of V that couldn’t help but wonder what Vergil might do with the information afforded to him now that he had so much time on his hands.

“It was something that I was accustomed to by that point. Something familiar when nothing else was. I’d spend the better part of my youth going back and forth to new and unknown places in the hope of a better outcome. But I learned quickly that while many things changed as you went from place to place, people largely stayed the same. And the problems that came with them only reset to start anew.” V grew silent, his eyes wandering across the room towards Nero. He sat quietly on the couch towards the right corner, twiddling his thumbs in complacent horror as though what he’d just heard had probably changed him in some profound way, or at had at least his perception of his older sibling in a substantial way. It was a stark contrast to Dante, whose uncharacteristic silence, thoughtful posture, and calm atmosphere mirrored his older twin’s in a way that was as fascinating as it was unsettling. V didn’t know what to make of it. “As for the end result of this particular expedition… well, it led me directly to you. It took a few years, but the result was worthwhile, I think. I was lucky enough to be taken under the wing of a group of outcasts, and I spent a substantial amount of time traveling and performing with them, only to end up in Redgrave City the night that you happened upon me. I was out for a walk when we happened upon one another on that street corner, and everything that has happened since has been nothing short of extraordinary. And harrowing. Especially that.”

The Darkslayer tilted his head to the side, leaning back slightly. “I take it that you do not remember much of what occurred that night, then. Perhaps that is for the best. The end result was, as we all seem to agree, undesirable. Though it was never my intention for my actions to lead to the consequences that they did, they did so regardless.” He seemed to consider his next statement for a moment before speaking, V’s retelling of his farrowing ordeal weighing on him in a way that he was not accustomed to. Oh, how things would have been different should he have been there. How the tables could have turned in their favor. But despite his best intentions, Vergil was more than aware of the fact that there was little that could be done about what’s he’d missed in his past. There was, however, a substantial amount that he could, and would do now. “Saddling you with a death sentence as soon as I discovered that you were alive after all was as far afield from what I intended as it could possibly be, but it happened anyway. Things never seem to go according to my plans. But I can only imagine that that may be due to my pension for creating them without taking every variable into account, and for not having all of the relevant information in the first place.”

Dante felt tempted to point out that Vergil had essentially just apologized to V, but he decided to leave the matter be. There would be time enough later. For now, he was going to take in the scene before him and silently contemplate his overall role in the situation. Though to say that the same part of him that felt somewhat responsible for Nero’s suffering as a child didn’t yearn to have been able to do something more for V would be a lie. Financially unstable as he was and always had been, he would have taken them both in without a second’s pause if given the opportunity. They would have all benefited greatly from having someone, anyone to call family. At least biologically.

V seemed to take his father’s words to heart. He’d been in situations of his own that lent themselves to the same vicious pattern of failure, regret, and sacrifice. It was what had led him to become the person that he now was. But he didn’t know Vergil’d particular brand of suffering, and he hoped that he never would. Although he could be mistaken, he was willing to believe that there was a part of Vergil that did in fact long for the time in their lives that he’s missed out on. The Darkslayer didn’t come off to him as the kind of person to willingly walk away from something so integral to him. Maybe it was time to get to the heart of the matter. After all, things couldn’t really get any more uncomfortable, could they?

“The vast majority of us do not plan for or wish for the consequences of our actions to play out in the way that they do, father, but that does not change the fact that we must account for them, accommodate them, and answer for them regardless of our desire to do so.” V crossed his arms loosely, making eye contact with Vergil in a way that unnerved both him and everyone else present. Something had shifted in V’s demeanor, and it was evident to anyone who spared a look at him. It was as if a certain level of inhibition had fallen away from him and he felt the freedom to say something that he’d always wanted to; the confidence to be heard and understood. “If I could have planned out every little detail of my life, it would have played out significantly different. I would not have spent my youth bounced back and forth between numerous orphanages. I would never have voluntarily chosen to be able to see the things that I was able to see. And I most certainly wouldn’t have undergone the extensive and invasive mental evaluations that I was forced to undergo out of the fear that I might actually be as insane as everyone around me seemed to collectively assume I was. But unfortunately, that is now how things went. But I can say for sure that I am done running from them. Whether I face them down or flee for my life, I will still have to do battle with them, so I might as well face my fate on my own terms.”

Nero and Dante gave one another a surprised look, the eldest of the two shaking his head as if he were physically trying to shake off how surprised he was. His eyes widened slightly as his eyebrows raised, seemingly taken by surprise as he lingered on the gravity of what V had just said to his father. As far as V’s normally sedate and polite tone and manner of speaking went, he’s essentially just put Vergil in his place and given him a piece of his mind, and the eldest Son of Sparda hadn’t said anything to correct him. Perhaps he was just impressed with the nerve he’d just demonstrated? Or perhaps it was something more substantial? It was hard to say when it came to his older twin.

Vergil leaned forward, giving V an unflinching piercing look as he seemed to dwell on his words. He half expected V to flinch or turn away, but he didn’t, and there was a part of him that was admittedly genuinely impressed by his eldest son’s sudden shift in tone. Something had seemingly clicked for him that hadn’t before, and it was evident for anyone present to see. For lack of a better way of putting it, after recalling such a harrowing experience, V just seemed utterly done with being at the mercy of his enemies, and it was time that he did something about that.

But there more to his statement than that, at least from where Vergil stood. V had just done something that he was confident that his son had never done before. He’d addressed him as just that: his father. In all the time that they’d spoken prior to that moment, V had been, for the most part at least, nothing but polite and upfront with him, but he’d never said anything that indicated to him that he was willing to verbally claim him as his father. And at that moment, he’d finally done so. Vergil hadn’t realized how much he needed one of his children to do that in a sincere way. Nero had called him as much before, but this was different in some way. There was no anger behind the abjection; no ulterior motive or thinly veiled layer of something secondary. No, it was just as simple as that. As simple as a son addressing his father as exactly that in a moment that told him that he was indeed making some headway with his sons. And as far as Vergil was concerned, he didn’t think that it was possible for him to be more internally pleased about that revelation than he already was. And although he hid it well, there was a part of him that was deeply touched by something that simple. For the first time in a long time, Vergil didn’t know how to take a statement that had been given to him at face value, and it was an incredible thing to behold.

“You have something you want to ask, don’t you? I can tell. Come out with it then. You’ve come this far in regards to expressing your desires. Why stop now? What is it that you truly wish to ask me? Because I can tell that there is indeed something that you desire to make known, and we only have so much time.” Vergil broke eye contact with V for a moment to turn his attention to Dante, his intention to speak with both of them clear. It seemed that his message was something universal between the four of them, a topic that none of them wished to approach, but were going to have to at some point. “It could be substantially less world-ending than you might imagine. Take it from someone who is less… adept at doing so when it actually counts.”

Dante didn’t miss his identical twin’s message. Neither did Nero or V for that matter. Though they were all equally taken aback by it, they were willing to absorb the context of it and accept that there was some truth to it. They did in fact all need to find a way to express their true thoughts and intentions more clearly with one another than they had been, regardless of the strides they’d made so far in regards to improving their communication with one another. Going forward, this was their chance to do something meaningful. They needed to seize it.

V looked at Vergil for a moment, his posture and overall demeanor softening significantly as he suddenly looked tired. It was different from how he usually seemed when he was in such a state, more emotional than physical. Talking about what occurred had drained him in a way that he was not accustomed to, and it showed, but he knew better than to simply give in and allow his inhibitions to get the better of him. Maybe he should just ask as his father had suggested? At this point, what could it hurt?

“I want to know why you didn’t know I was alive. And I want to know why I’m able to see the things that I can see. I’m willing to believe that it is… abnormal for a child to be able to do what I was able to do, even by the standards of our family.” V went quiet for a moment, blinking rapidly for a moment as he suddenly felt a rush of emotion that he couldn’t’ quiet place. “And I want to know if you would have come looking for us if you had known. What you would have done.”

The demon slayer in blue’s posture changed slightly. It was something that Dante picked up on more than the rest of them did, something that Vergil didn’t generally do. Even under the most extreme circumstances, Vergil never slumped, not even a little. Or at least, he’d never seen his twin brother do so. It was almost unnatural how such a small thing unnerved him. A quick look in Nero’s direction was all it took to see that he was watching the situation intently, seemingly invested in Vergil’s answer. Dante repressed the urge to sigh in discomfort. The stakes were high this time.

“Please. Don’t’ say something you’d normally say for once, Vergil. Just this once. This really isn’t the time to do that to them. Put them down gently if you have to. I don’t think that they are in the mood for that right now. Even if it’s the honest truth.”

Much to his surprise, Vergil looked over at him for a moment. It was as though Vergil had heard his younger twin’s thoughts. While his facial expression was largely unreadable, they both seemed to know at that moment what Vergil was going to say, it made them equally uncomfortable. Vergil, because he knew the truth, and Dante because he was almost certain that he didn’t want to. Nothing in the blue devil’s life was ever simple or good in that kind of way, and something told him that there would be repercussions for this one.

“Bold of you to assume that I didn’t look for you, V. I did. For countless hours in countless places until every just started to blend together into an amalgamation of all the ground I’d already tread before then. During the pursuit of what I’d lost, hopelessness set in and brought the bitterness that I’ve carried with me for so long with it.” Vergil paused for a moment, his eyes drifting over to Nero. This was not the kind of conversation that he could leave his youngest son out of, no matter how much he wanted to. There was no delicate way to put what he needed to say. All he could do was hope that they took it the way he meant it, and not in the way that they were entitled to. But that was their prerogative and their privilege, if one could even call it that. “And then somehow I looked up and I was in Fortuna. And I met her. And then I arrived in Redgrave City a lifetime later only to find that perhaps the only time I truly allowed my grief to consume me that the very person who had sought to comfort me in such a state had been left in a truly regrettable state as a result. And so had the result of our one fleeting night of passion.”

Vergil realized quickly that neither V nor Nero were truly able to take in the severity of what Vergil had just implied, or the fact that he’d been so open and honest with them about something he had tried so hard to keep buried deep within himself. A heavy sigh betrayed his true emotions, as did the sad, sly smirk that ghosted his face for the fleeting moment that he’d been unable to contain it. 

“I find it almost genuinely ironic that I managed to get myself into this situation twice without realizing it. I never considered myself unintelligent, by my actions certainly lend to that conclusion. Much as the horror of my existence has led to the trauma and pain that paved the dark path that I walked in solitude for the majority of my life, the regret I have caused and have left behind has been all that I have left in my wake.” He faced them all, accustomed to even attempting what he was doing at that moment. Vergil wasn’t entirely sure he recognized the actions that he was taking as his own, but he accepted the reality and the truth behind them nonetheless. This was long overdue, even if it was something that he truly didn’t know how to reckon with. But V’s words about the reality of taking responsibility for the consequences of one’s actions had resonated with him, and he could no longer deny that. “It is almost humbling how much I truly regret the depth of the suffering I’ve caused, and for that… I am sorry. There is more that I could have done that I did not, and I can only hope that it brings you some small measure of satisfaction knowing that it will eternally haunt me.”

For the first time in what felt like ages, Nero shook his head, a troubled look on his face. He couldn’t even begin to put into words how Vergil’s confession affected him, but he still felt the need to get something off of his chest. He had a lot of questions, but he knew he’d get to the root of them eventually. For now, he needed to say something that he now realized he’d needed to say for a long time, and he just hoped that it wasn’t too late. The things he’d experienced that day had affected him deeply in ways that he could never have imagined when they’d boarded the train to Lucia’s house. It was enough to physically give him whiplash.

“No, that doesn’t bring us satisfaction. Were not sadists. I mean, you might be but… More suffering isn’t going to bring any of us that. I’m pretty sure we’re all tapped out by now.” The short white-haired devil hunter sighed, unsure as to how to take the number of eyes that were on him at that moment. He wasn’t shy, but that didn’t make this any less awkward. It seemed that he wasn’t the only one accustomed to him being this serious. “Look just… fix it, okay? We both know you can. All of us do. You just fucking suck at forgiving yourself for literally anything you do, and it really shows. Stop kicking your own ass so hard, and start fixing the shit you broke in the first place. That’s our job. Nothing’s gonna change otherwise, ya know?”

Both V and Dante looked Nero up and down for a moment as though he’d been replaced by another individual that they didn’t recognize. While they shared his sentiments, they were still shocked to hear Nero be the voice of reason among them during such a heavy conversation. Maybe they had written him off too soon as a lost cause in that regard. Vergil nodded in agreement, a single barely noticeable gesture that carried a weight that he himself wasn’t entirely privy to. He would try as he had done with everything else that he had committed himself to in the past. It was all he could do. And he could only hope that it would be enough.

Just as they were attempting to figure out where they needed to go from there, the door swung open with a surprising amount of force to reveal none other than Nico. She was covered in a grey substance that looked like dust or ash, and a look of both shock and excitement adorned her face. She was practically jumping up and down in glee at whatever she’d just seen that had led to her returning so suddenly. The four of them shared an apprehensive look before turning to see what had captivated her in such an intense manner.

“Oh, for fucks sake! What the hell did you do this time, Nico?! We don’t live here!” Nero started before Nico hushed him, pointing over her shoulder towards something out of sight behind her. A resounding boom that carried both a strange sonic tone and a defining shake followed closely behind as if he’d triggered it just by willing it into existence. Now she had their attention. How had they not noticed that something more was going on? Had they been that focused on V’s retelling of his tragic and harrowing ordeal?

“Listen here, shit for brains. That is why I’m here.” She turned back towards the open door, gesturing for the four of them to follow her. “Get off your buts, grab your weapons, and follow me. You’ve got to see this!”

The baffled descendants of the Dark Knight Sparda all looked at one another before silently objecting in some way shape or form and then obliging her. At the very least, they needed to see what she was talking about. And by the sounds of that boom, it sure as hell was something. One could only hope that it was worth their time. And Nico rarely disappointed them.

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Phew! That was an awful lot, wasn’t it! I like these long chapters though. And I especially like writing them after I have to deal with stupid stuff. Serves as a great distraction from the reality of the fact that I still live in this capitalistic hellhole. But that’s neither here nor there. I hope to see you in the comics! And as always, I hope you had a good day! I’ve had a few people use the form already, but I’d love it if you went and checked it out! I’ve compiled quite the list! See you in the comment section! Bye-bye!

Iron Fist Rewatch 1x04: Eight Diagram Dragon Palm

Danny, struggling to pull himself onto that light post thing with his probably now bruised chest: "I dedicate myself to the service of all beings of K'un Lun-" *falls* So is this a recitation they do in training - is he trying to use that mindset to help him climb this beam? Is he doing some sort of traditional ask-the-gods-to-bless-me-with-strength thing?

Lol somehow I had remembered it as Danny crawling up again anyway after the initial push. I forgot they actually went and collected him. Guess that makes them look more favorable to him than my own recall though...

On the coffee table directly facing Danny when he wakes up, probably meant to be a sign to him about where he is and who has so kindly rescued and tended to him after his unfortunate tumble off a building: the formal pic of Harold and children, another photo hard to make out - my first thought was the vacation photo of the 6 of them but it's very sepia, could be something else. Maybe if I look back at other photos we've seen before I could match it.

Danny: "What happened to me? Last I remember I was climbing up-" Ward: "Yeah, like goddamn Daredevil." LOL

UGH THIS WHOLE HAROLD INTRO SCENE UGH Danny mad at Ward one second and then Harold appears and it's like the breath is punched out of him. Looking at Ward and Ward just calmly looking back because he clearly knows what's going on and Danny doesn't - it's as if they're bringing him into their confidence on something. This is a form of offering Danny something he wants - to be a part of something with the only family he thought he had left, not to mention the miracle of one of his parent-figures being alive again. (Wow, what a journey. From finding out Harold is dead and then Ward and Joy both quite clearly rejecting him and denying him a place in their lives to Joy actually doing something to indicate maybe at least she still wants him around after all? To wait, Ward and Harold bringing me in on something too? It's like the dream he clung to in K'un Lun got snatched away and now seems to be trickling back, and - UGH.) "You see him too?" because Danny thought he was seeing things that night at the hospital but this- this is real? Ward's sad, small nod because he knows so much more about Harold than Danny does, and he's seeing this innocent joy (word choice intended) while knowing himself to be wary and that this is almost definitely another manipulation (but what if it's not? What if-? But Harold is still dangerous, he can't help it, there's a reason Ward wants to protect Joy from him even while knowing that Harold favors her so dearly, because there are other ways to hurt your children-)

Harold calmly walking forward while wearing a black suit and confirming "I did die," followed by Danny's "You look the same age as when I last saw you..." - Vampire AU??? (Ugh but why did it have to be Harold? Not a fan of monsters as the bad guys.... need a non-evil vamp to balance him out....)

The way Ward just keeps looking silently between the both of them, like a witness, like - UGH.

"You're home now," GOD DAMMIT and Danny's relief and gratitude and Ward's somber look down I -

Cancer lasted 3 years

Ward: "Dad, are you sure you should be saying this?" Harold: "It's ok. Danny needs to know this." Casting Ward in the opposition role

Ward sits down in the chair adjacent to the couch Danny is on. Harold crosses over from where he was standing near the left side of the couch to sit on the farther right side instead - specifically sitting in between Danny and Ward.

Harold: "I still remember my last breath. Scariest shit I've ever experienced." Ward looks up and away, taking a breath, before turning back again. Combo of eye-roll at dramatics and genuine pain at the thought because that's his dad and Ward remembers those years of pain and decay and - ?

I forgot Danny originally thought of the Hand more like a fable than a reality - and finding out they're a real, present threat combines with being told it's not K'un Lun that they're threatening, but that this whole time, they've actually been digging their claws into his home?

Ward rolling his eyes with his whole body when Harold encourages Danny to think about this as ~embracing his destiny~ hahaha

Ward: No offense, but Danny has zero idea how to do business and therefore maybe shouldn't be running a company with again, absolutely zero training??? Harold: Don't mind Ward being a petulant brat who wants to keep you from your rightful place in our family, Danny. I need you. :)

Harold to Danny: "We've needed a fighter like you back in the family." - right in front of Ward, yet another small "unlike you, who are weak" jab. In line with the whole "Joy can close the deal, you, Ward, can not do anything" lines in the previous episode.

Ward warning Danny about Harold!! But not really doing it great so it could be taken as another 'othering' where Danny could hear 'Harold's not YOUR dad' instead of Ward's intended 'Harold's not your DAD' - made much better by his clarification that Harold only cares about Harold and helping to show he meant 'not a good supportive dad you can lean blindly on' than if he had just. left it at that. I'm glad for Ward's continuing with that line and for Danny's long, considering look at nothing afterward. Gives the sense that Danny feels that something is off, even if he's not sure what.

Colleeeeeeeeeeeeen and her shame and her truly believing in honoring the code of bushido and her teaching these children to get them "the scholarship" to help them in a legitimate, meaningful, honorable way (SOB) and believing that their skills should be about the code and not be about flashiness or showing off or being able to lord their power and ability over others or money -

Code of Bushido (Includes eight virtues, and this episode title is Eight Diagram Dragon Palm. Coincidence???)

1. Rectitude or Justice (refers to PERSONAL rectitude - “one’s power to decide upon a course of conduct in accordance with reason, without wavering” “the bone that gives firmness and stature...without Rectitude neither talent nor learning can make the human frame into a samurai.”)

2. Courage (Bushido distinguishes between bravery and courage - “Courage is doing what is right”)

3. Benevolence or Mercy (“Love, magnanimity, affection for others, sympathy and pity, are traits of Benevolence, the highest attribute of the human soul”)

4. Politeness (Courtesy is rooted in benevolence - “Politeness should be the expression of a benevolent regard for the feelings of others; it’s a poor virtue if it’s motivated only by a fear of offending good taste. In its highest form Politeness approaches love”)

5. Honesty and Sincerity (interestingly, rather than what *I* personally think of when I hear the words “honesty and sincerity”, the info in the Bushido code text about this virtue mostly centers around the idea of disdaining money and riches - probably what Colleen is talking about with her whole “fighting for money breaks the bushido code” thing)

6. Honor (referring to non-martial behavior)

7. Loyalty (bushido text about this seems mostly in context of loyalty to a superior, to your leader, to people you are indebted to. Applies tragically to Colleen and her personal experience with Hand culture. To me, of course, I am more interested in the idea of those leaders deserving your love and your loyalty hand-in-hand with it. Given the other virtues, this IS probably what the code meant to include, but from a modern standpoint it seems like one of those things where especially paramilitary organizations or cults like the Hand could twist the letter of it into an expectation of blindly following orders, even perhaps against your personal devotion to the other virtues)

8. Character and Self-Control (“Bushido teaches that men should behave according to an absolute moral standard, one that transcends logic. What’s right is right, and what’s wrong is wrong. The difference between good and bad and between right and wrong are givens, not arguments subject to discussion or justification, and a man should know the difference.” I get the ideal of this, but something about the wording sits weirdly with me... maybe the implication that they can’t make a mistake?)

Ageless qualities of manliness: choosing compassion over confrontation, and benevolence over belligerence <3

“The tie might be a touch effeminate” Shut UP Ward

Danny, at a press conference: *waves at Jeri* “Hey.” Jeri: *shakes her head*

Danny: “Yes, I was in a mental hospital.” Joy, despairingly: “Oh, Danny”

Jeri smiling. Maybe she worked with Danny on how to handle the press conference and likely questions he would face? My headcanon from this anyway. Ward and Joy looking at each other, seems like in surprise at Danny’s answers and spin?

“Kindness is the eternal law”

The way Danny slips in to this conversation with Joy about the Red Hook property for his Hand investigation is very well done. Reminds me of watching the Netflix trailer and thinking that it made IF look like a show where Danny was some form of government agent going undercover as himself for an investigation.

SO CUTE how Danny goes “woah, I have a first appointment of the day? Who is it?” and then he turns around and it’s his friend Jeri! Hahaha. Danny: “J-money!!” *goes in for a hug* Jeri: “Woah, we don’t do that.”

Jeri: “Your father’s office. Even found his old desk.” Meaning she was the one working on this - Ward is the one who had to set Danny up there after his sarcastic remarks in the penthouse, but Jeri brought in the sentimentality. (Jeri, directly after basically admitting to putting a bunch of effort into a very sentimental gesture here: “Now don’t get all weepy on me.”) Jeri in IF is so soft I love it

Danny: “I pretty much had to raise the dead.” *smirks to himself at his own inside joke*

Jeri, trying to give Danny advice: “For most of these people, you are a hostile takeover.” Me: JERI, HE DOESN’T UNDERSTAND THE NUANCES OF YOUR CORPORATE SPEAK.

Jeri asks if Danny wants the door open or closed. He chooses open. Open to Megan, open to all his new coworkers and employees. Danny is, at his core, for people.

LOL Did Danny just steal Ward’s chair?

Danny: *forces half the board to move so he can sit next to Joy* Me: DANNY

If these guys really wanted to persuade Danny to their point of view on the sell-at-cost thing, they should have emphasized the “funding new research” part of it instead of just repeating “this is just business” ad nauseam. Obviously Ward is actually trying to do the opposite right now and get Danny driven out, but idk what the rest of these people are thinking. Danny acknowledges that they can still make profits elsewhere, which is his side offering a dialogue to meet them. Their counter is that the WHO will be buying it from them and subsidizing it from other people. If they wanted to meet or even just appear to be meeting Danny partway, they could have suggested an initiative to work with the WHO on a program for that? Although since none of them want to actually do that and don’t really care what Danny thinks about it, I know why they didn’t.

Joy raising her eyebrow at Ward’s declaring that they’ll go to market at cost like “I see you Ward and how many times have I told you to leave the maneuvering to me you are unsubtle and unskilled”

Danny looking back at Ward significantly on his way to his discussion with Joy about the pier deal

Ward taking The Drugs before he has to answer Harold’s late night phone call

Harold: You did a great job today. Ward: *baffled expression* Harold: Now, son, this isn’t the time to point fingers, it’s the time for solutions. Ward: There it is. Harold: Also, you screwed up in the meeting and you need to make it up. Ward: *sigh*

Danny: white sneakers with the suit

Joy casually placing the monks and their traditional robes in a lower class position to them and their white collar formal business attire

Time for Joy to play the angle on Danny, curb his at-cost behavior for the future

The ringmaster choosing the second fighter for Colleen followed by that “look, you guys know all the rules” line - I like this guy. He probably remembers how the last dude Colleen fought was a rule-breaker and wants to keep all his fighters safe as possible in an already dangerous 2-on-1 fight like this.

Again with the camera slowing and the noise fading and the blood splattering camera work giving the “losing control” vibe

“The problem was, I never thought through WHY I wanted this job. I mistook my stubborn will for a sense of... destiny, or something.” (Danny, earlier: “My shifu would have called this destiny.”)

“Every moment was a struggle. Failure... led to a beating. Victory... led to another fighting style. To the next lesson.”

Joy flat out calls it abuse and Danny doesn’t deny it.

Vodka and tonic, light on the tonic.

Danny clearly still shaken by the borderline flashbacks to his life at K’un Lun.

Is this the first time the Hatchets appear? Just storming the apartment and punching Joy in the face? Danny and Joy must both be like “WHAT IS HAPPENING”

Joy tries punching one of them. Good for you, Joy.

Ah yes, Ward flat out telling one of the more shark-like reporters that the drug is a huge deal that would save millions of lives and that Rand was of course planning to really boost the price to make a “huge” profit. “That is a loss of hundreds of millions of dollars [that our one company wanted to make off of the millions of people who needed this drug to save their lives]. He’s worse than those bleeding-heart-liberal-trust-fund hipsters wandering around Williamsburg.” (Note: Williamsburg: hip neighborhood that draws the young and fashionable. Boutiques, cafes, street art, outdoor concerts and food markets. Dance clubs, bars, music halls. East Williamsburg is ranked one of the 5 most LGBTQ+ friendly neighborhoods in Brooklyn.)

“Ellison, don’t give the front page to Karen”

Ward just looks at her retreating back and rubs his hands together like “Ah yes, a job well done.” Biggest question for the viewers in this scene is probably: Did Ward tank this on purpose or is he really that far removed from the reality of the non-Elite?

Colleen: still bloody from her illegal cage fighting and hears noise outside her door. Last time she heard noise, it was attackers breaking in for what probably seemed to her like retaliation. Then it’s Danny and she has the relieved exasperation, but - oh ho, Joy Meachum?

“Wasn’t he stalking you?” “It was a misunderstanding.” “Right. I guess being a millionaire covers a multitude of sins.” (Danny: “Billionaire.” Colleen in the background: *disbelieving huff+head shake*)

TRIADS. Time for my triad rant: Every drama show ever to involve Asian-Americans - even just in one-episode specials - includes triads. I’m so sick of it. I know organized crime is a real problem that actually exists, but - why are the Asians always evil? It’s like having the mafia be a plotline every time an Italian character exists on screen. Plz diversify. Media colors perception.

Danny: literally just walks into a restaurant and says he needs to speak to the head of the crime gang. AND THEN NONE OF THEM EVEN BOTHER TRYING TO DENY IT. The Hatchets literally just open the door to their backroom where you can clearly see their illegal activity and come out to talk to Danny. What if he was working with the cops, guys?

It’s so scary how the Yangshi Gonsi react to the mention of the Hand. Well done, IF.

“Joke around the house was that Danny and I were pledged to be married.” (“In another life, this would have been romantic.”) (THIS CREEPS ME OUT THOUGH in a very personally specific triggering way as someone who spent their childhood running around with a boy that I found out later people thought was gonna “knock me up someday.” #BARF)

Colleen has a billionaire in her dojo learning how to punch on a dummy held together with duct tape because she can’t afford to fix it. (Also: Colleen's dojo is also for self-defense classes. Joy was just attacked by hatchet-wielders.)

Danny: "The hatchets won’t be a problem anymore." and then doesn’t elaborate. DANNY THAT SOUNDS SO SHADY. YOU LOOK SO SHADY RIGHT NOW.

Danny: *reaches out and touches Colleen’s hand* Colleen: *flinches back* What are you doing? DANNY. DANNY, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. You seriously have no idea how you come across. Joy is watching all this like “wow....ok.”

Danny used to fight in illegal fight clubs on his way back from K’un Lun. Along with his obtaining an illegal fake ID. New headcanon: Danny is actually super connected to the criminal underground worldwide. Mob bosses everywhere have a soft spot for him. He’s somewhere on a mission with Ward/Colleen/Defenders/HfH and acting like he knows the area, someone recognizes him and he starts chatting cheerfully with them, suddenly they’re being greeted and helped out by people deep in the black market scene while Danny bear hugs someone that most people clearly fear and his companions look on with wide eyes.

Danny, a literal billionaire: Remember how I offered to pay you six months rent for helping me out? Colleen, broke as hell: My denial stands.

Danny: So how are we gonna tell Ward? (framing them - all three of them - as a team) Joy: lmao, are we thinking about the same Ward? You want to tell the most overprotective big brother in the world that men with hatchets attacked his sister? Do you remember what he did to those bullies when we were 8?

Gao: *black bags Harold, refuses to tell him where they’re taking him, doesn’t reveal that this particular instance is him landing on the ‘good’ side of the scale until the last possible second.*

Ugh, he just puts that sword back in the scabbard with all the blood still on it? Improper blade care

Oh yeah, I guess this is the audience’s first scene showing that Harold is capable of cold-blooded murder

I notice that this article may be the front page of the business section, but is NOT the front of the newspaper. Sorry, Jennifer.

[I had initially transcribed the article here, but have made it it's own post which can be found here. Notes on the article, though: Jennifer was very kind to the Meachums in it, given what Ward was actually saying. Also, which Bulletin employee fell down on grammar checking that thing?]

Danny’s Jeri-given apartment doesn’t have a number on the door, but does have some sort of cherry blossom branches etching in the plate?

The Hatchet box!!! (congrats again @Sholio LOL) Yang Hai-Qing wants Danny to get rid of the Hand too. He wasn’t gonna mess with them, explained they didn’t know about the Hand's involvement when they went after Joy, and apologized, but then the Hand came to his restaurant and killed one of his men anyway.

Ah yes, the great tattoo reveal. Also, is that a bullet’s pucker scar on Danny’s left shoulder?

Live and Learn || Para

Who: Sam Evans & Owen Pierce

When: June 18th, 2020

Where Sam’s suite.

Notes: Owen’s first proper punishment + feels. @sammythedominant

Owen left Hunter’s feeling a little calmer about what was ahead of him. He was still nervous to be sure, but this was Sam. He knew deep down that he had nothing to be afraid of. Sam knew that physical pain terrified him and Owen trusted him implicitly to abide by his limits. Still, the fact that he’d disappointed someone he longed so badly to impress weighed heavily on him. Sure, it was over something objectively playful, but it was a matter of principle. He knew that self-discipline was an area of weakness for him. If anything, Owen hoped that whatever happened throughout his first punishment, he’d learn and grow from it and be a better submissive as a result. Taking a breath, Owen dropped to his knees and knocked almost sadly at Sam’s door before dropping his blonde head shamefully and waited to be let inside. Sam wasn't looking forward to having to punish Owen for the first time. Intellectually, he knew this was probably a good thing. Getting that first punishment out of the way, showing Owen that a punishment could be a good, healthy thing instead of the scary thing he was imagining. That the Heads had inflicted on him. He checked the clock as he heard the knock on the door, and smiled when he saw it was 7pm exactly. Sam got up and walked to the door. He sucked in a breath quietly as he saw Owen kneeling there, and could tell the sub wasn't feeling good. "Come on inside, Owen, and go kneel by the couch, please." Owen looked up at the sound of the door opening and met those gorgeous green eyes that he was becoming more and more familiar with. They looked sad, and that weighed heavily on Owen’s heart. His lips pulled down into a pout and he breathed out a heavy sigh. “Yes, sir,” was all he managed before standing up and trudging over to the couch. He clasped his hands in his lap after lowering himself to the floor once more, a wave of dread overwhelming him as he heard Sam shut the door and make his way into the living room. Sam wanted badly to scoop Owen up into his arms, cuddle him and reassure him that everything was going to be okay. It hurt that he couldn't do that right now. Every punishment lesson he'd ever had in Dom classes were screaming at him, reminding him to give Owen boundaries and discipline right now. "So, you're being punished right now because I gave you a clear and direct order, and you disobeyed that order," Sam said firmly, making his voice be as level as possible. "Do you understand that, Owen? Why you need to be punished today?" Owen heaved a sigh and slumped his shoulders before nodding gently. "Yes, sir. I understand. ...I messed up." He uttered quietly. His hands dropped from his lap and he idly traced the lines of the floorboard directly under him. His mind was racing. Surely the punishment would fit the crime. He'd disobeyed an order - that he understood perfectly. The order that was disobeyed was one that had been set forth in a playful context, though. It wasn't that Owen hadn't taken it seriously. He had. He just didn't grasp the gravity of disobedience until this very moment. Now, with the idea that Sam wouldn't inflict any physical pain on him, he wondered pointlessly about what Sam might have in store for him. Owen's sign made Sam want to hug him, and take care of him, even more. He forced himself to stay strict and strong, feeling sure that the best course of action was to show Owen that he could be a strong and reliable Dominant in all areas, not just in fun scenes. Sam nodded as Owen spoke quietly. "So, there won't be any physical pain, which means there are going to be two parts to your punishment today," Sam explained, as he reached over the arm of the couch, and picked up a notepad and pen. "The first part is, you're going to sit here at my feet, and write lines. I will obey Sir Sam's orders all the time, twenty-five times. Then When I'm thinking about Sir Sam, my cock does not belong to me, another twenty-five times," Sam explained, as he held out the notepad and pen. "Understood, Owen?" Owen heard the slight rustling of paper and cast his gaze up to find Sam presenting the notebook. He worried his lips together and nodded, feeling a huge weight lifted off his chest. He almost felt terrible for having been nervous at all. So far, the punishment really did fit the crime. He perked up a bit at the mention of the punishment consisting of two parts, but with one look into Sam's eyes, he felt immediately comforted and knew, somehow, that whatever else happened, everything would be alright. Owen reached out and took the notebook and pen from the dominant. "Understood, sir. Completely." With that, he scooted back a little and placed the notebook in between Sam's feet. He leaned forward and, without thinking, pressed a gentle kiss against Sam's calf. Then, he took a breath and brought the pen to the paper. With the first stroke of the 'I', Owen let out a little gasp. It was pink. Leave it to Sam Evans to think of that. Owen looked up at Sam with the beginnings of an appreciative smile until he remembered the task at hand, cleared his throat, and got to work. Despite his attempts to stay strict and firm, Sam helplessly smiled sweetly as Owen kissed his calf, seemingly automatically. Sam was pretty sure that a life with Owen would be a life wrapped around the submissive's little finger, and throw in Blaine too, and Sam knew he was done. As Owen gasped at seeing the pink ink, and Sam saw that little smile aimed up at him, the young Dominant knew that a life of being that tangled up in his submissives was exactly the life he wanted. How could it not be? Settling back into his strict role once Owen started writing again, he grabbed the TV remote and turned on a random channel. He knew that in a punishment like this, the added knowledge that the Dom was doing something as mundane as watching TV and not watching the sub's every movement, could add a little something extra for the submissive. Sam was curious to see if, or how, Owen would react to that. It was a unique experience, to be sure. The words he was writing were bringing forth a wide array of thoughts and emotions. On the one hand, there was relief; relief because the notion of his sexual satisfaction remaining at the mercy of Sam's direction meant that Sam still had lots of interest in dominating him. If he were honest, the fear that this slip-up would turn Sam off to spending time with him was a very real one. It was bred out of plenty of past experiences with boys brushing him off once he no longer interested them or became too much to handle. Sam was special. Inarticulately so, and Owen knew that losing whatever it was that they were building would crush him. This exercise indicated that they would come out on the other side of this punishment not only in-tact but stronger than before. About half-way through, he chanced a glance up at Sam and noted that his focus was on the television and not him. It didn't make the punishment any harder or easier, but it certainly stung a bit. Pushing through, Owen wrapped up his task, punctuating each sentence with a little heart before dropping the pen. "All done, sir." He shook out his hand a bit before picking up the notebook and holding it up for Sam to receive. Sam turned the TV off as soon as Owen was done, and despite himself, he smiled at the submissive. He took the notebook from Owen and looked over it. His smile grew as he saw the hearts punctuating every sentence and instinctively, he reached out to ruffle Owen's hair a little. Sam figured Owen had earned that much reassurance, at the very least. Without further commenting on the lines, wanting to save that for after the entire punishment was done, Sam closed the notebook and looked down at Owen. "Okay, part two of the punishment," Sam said, as he stood up. He turned and pulled out a seat cushion from the couch, before walking over to the far corner of the room and placing it on the floor. "You're going to kneel here, facing the corner, hands behind your back, for ten minutes. If I catch you looking around, or fidgeting, the ten minutes start over, and we're going to keep that going until you've done a full ten minutes of silence, still kneeling." Owen's heart did a whole-ass cartwheel when Sam smiled down at him. It always meant a lot, but right now - more than ever - it meant the entire world. Owen beamed back up at him, and clasped his hand together, waiting hopefully for some acknowledgment that he'd done everything correctly. The little ruffle of his hair did the trick. It was simple, concise but was perfectly reminiscent of their usual dynamic. Owen scooted to the side, giving Sam room to stand and set the second part of the punishment up. Owen listened intently to the details of his next task and nodded slowly. "Got it, sir... I'll do my best." He wanted more than anything for this whole thing to be over so that he could follow his gut - which had been telling him to throw himself at Sam in one of his signature tackle-hugs since the moment he saw him - he was thus, determined to see this bit through. Once everything was situated, Owen crawled to the corner, got onto the cushion, clasped his hand behind his back, and let his eyes flutter to a close, with nothing else to do but wait. As soon as Owen knelt, Sam started a timer on his phone and moved back to the couch to wait out the ten minutes and keep his eyes on the submissive. Not even two minutes into the punishment, Sam's timer was interrupted by a video call. The ringtone rang out around the room, and Sam stifled a sigh. He answered it, knowing that his little brother would only end up telling his parents he hadn't answered, which would just get them calling too. "Hey, Stevie, now's not a good time. I've got a sub here," Sam said, and then internally cringed. Why had he given his little brother that information?

A sub? So not Blaine? Oh my God, is it that blonde dude that tagged you on insta? Stace was saying he's so ho--

Sam ended the call right there and sighed. He knew without a doubt, Owen was going to end up teasing him about that. "Don't think I didn't see that reaction, Owen. Ten minutes are starting over, right now," Sam called out, though the amusement was clear in his tone. Owen was working on mentally reciting the script to Legally Blonde to pass the time when the sound of Sam's ringtone broke the silence. Owen instinctively wanted to turn and address the intrusion but disciplined himself to stay still. Despite his efforts, Owen perked up at Sam mentioning his younger brother's name. He'd been yearning to learn more about the rest of Sam's family, and he couldn't help listening in to try and pick up what he could. It seemed like there wouldn't be much to pick up on until Stevie mentioned a certain Instagram post. Owen's post. The submissive heard out all that Stevie said, turning his head slightly and barely suppressed a giggle. Once the call was dropped, Owen knew Sam's reprimand would come before it even did. Mouthing a silent 'damn', Owen refocused and went back to reciting his favorite movie lines in his head, albeit with a slight smirk gracing his features as he waited out the excruciating ten minutes on his knees. Sam started the timer over again and knew that Owen and Blaine were going to tease him mercilessly about Stevie's comment later on. He kept his eyes on Owen for a few more moments, before shooting off a quick text to Stevie with a middle finger emoji. It was five minutes into the second round of kneeling that Sam got a text from his Mom, reprimanding him for sending such an emoji to his little brother. Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and put his phone down, keeping the timer in eyesight. He was impressed with how well Owen was handling the silent, still kneeling, and was hopeful that this time around, Owen would get through it. To say that this was the longest ten minutes of Owen's life would be a massive understatement. It was like doing planks over and over again but not even having the timer in front of you to watch the time dwindle, however slowly. Owen took to literally counting the speckles of drywall in front of him until his mind wandered to the reason he was sitting there in the first place. All of this could have been avoided had he just exercised more discipline. That was and continued to be his biggest issue as a submissive. He lacked self-control. It was never with malintent - but rather, a brand of obliviousness that was uniquely his own. He knew that he had to work on that. He would. He'd be better. If not for himself, then for Sam. At that, the timer went off behind him and Owen let out a sigh, relaxed only slightly but stayed where he was. A punishment wasn't over until the dominant declared it as such. Owen knew that much, and he wanted to end this on the right note. Sam smiled as Owen didn't move from his spot as the timer rang out. He'd been partly imagining Owen instantly turning around and rushing over to him for a hug and cuddle, but he should've known that Owen would want to do his best to impress him right now. He was happy to see Owen doing his best and knew that, despite Owen having an issue with a lack of self-control, that there was nothing malicious there. Owen's whole attitude to the punishment had taught him that, and Sam knew that meant there wasn't a problem here that they couldn't work on together. "You're done, Owen," Sam said, ten seconds after the timer had rung. "Come on over here, and bring the cushion back. Your punishment is over." Owen didn't need to be told twice. With a huff of exertion, Owen scrambled to his feet, cushion clutched to his chest, and almost tripped over himself on his way over to the couch. He hurriedly put the cushion back in its spot, hopped on the couch, and threw his arms around Sam's neck, pushing the other backward across the sofa. He nuzzled into Sam's neck, enjoying that same, rustic, masculine scent that he'd grown so accustomed to. "I'm sorry, sir." He mumbled against the crook of Sam's neck. "Really, really sorry." He emphasized, not relenting on the hug for a second. Sam smiled as Owen threw his arms around his neck, and Sam fell backward against the couch. He didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around the submissive and hold him tightly. "I know you are, and you're forgiven. That's what the punishment is for, okay?" Sam explained. "You did something wrong, and the punishment is how you make up for that," Sam said, before pausing. "Well, that and by learning from your mistake. Which you're going to do because that rule is still there. You still need permission, every time you think about me like that," Sam told Owen, as he held the submissive against his body. Owen was completely strewn on top of Sam at this point, and yet it was such a natural position for them. Owen propped his chin up on Sam's chest and listened to his final notes. "I got it, sir. I swear, every time I feel like I need to touch myself when I think about you, I'll ask first." He huffed and gave the other a slight smile. "It's just tough. You're ridiculously hot and I'm pretty much thinking about you all the time at this point. I don't wanna...overwhelm you, I guess? I've told you this before, but I'm not used to people sticking around." He idly drew little circles against Sam's chest as he spoke, his blue eyes focusing on the fabric of Sam's shirt aimlessly. "The last thing I'd want is for you to get sick of me..." Sam's heart ached for Owen, as the submissive mentioned again how he wasn't used to people sticking around. It baffled Sam that someone as sweet and perfect as Owen could have abandonment issues like this, but it only made him want to protect and care for Owen even more than he already did. He sucked in a breath, as he began to run his hand up and down Owen's back. "You maybe think that I gave you that order because it's fun and hot, and it gives us something sexy to do," Sam murmured and shrugged his shoulders. "That's definitely part of it. But the main reason, the real reason, is because I want you to have a reason to talk to me, as much as you want. I want that connection, a lot more than I care about what you're thinking about when you jerk off, Owen," Sam said softly, as his hand moved up to stroke the back of Owen's neck. "I'm hoping that you following this order, all the time, will show you I'm not going anywhere." Owen couldn't pinpoint the moment that did it for him. Maybe it was the way Sam's breathing seemed to line-up with his own. Maybe it was the way Sam's strong, calloused hand moved against his back, effortlessly ironing out every trepidation he ever felt in a matter of seconds. He lifted his gaze to meet Sam's - his own wavering, blue eyes reflecting back at him as he listened to Sam speak. Maybe it was the promise that Sam wasn't leaving. It could've been any of those things or all of them, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was the fact that Owen felt...home. In a new, wonderful way that he couldn't quite assign a word to. Owen didn't know what to say. So, he didn't. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Sam's lips, bringing a hand up to wind into the back of his hair, letting them linger like that for a few solid beats before he slowly pulled back, his eyes embarrassingly brimming with a few tears. "I hope you know...I don't need a reason to talk to you. That's something I constantly wanna do. I'm clingy. Physically and emotionally...but, I think it's time that I stop doubting you. I told you way back when we first started chatting that I'm a handful... All I'll say is that you're about to find out just how much." Owen punctuated his statement with a little boop to Sam's nose and a giggle. Sam was gently taken by surprise at the kiss pressed to his lips, but barely a second went by before he was smiling against Owen's lips. He let himself enjoy the quick kiss, but his worry for Owen amped up as soon as they broke apart and he saw the tears threatening to fall from the submissive's eyes. Quietly, listening to Owen as he spoke, Sam reached up and gently wiped under Owen's eyes to wipe away any falling tears. He smiled as Owen booped his nose, and couldn't help but wonder why Owen thought he was a handful. He'd seen nothing from Owen that suggested he was, all he'd ever seen were positive things that he really wanted to see more of, and he really wanted Owen to understand that. "If you're ready to stop doubting that, then I want you to talk to me whenever you want, okay? You've still got your order to follow, but I want you to talk to me if you have a bad day, or a good day, or whatever you want," Sam murmured. "Also, I'd need to talk to Blaine first, but how do you feel about setting up one day every week where the three of us always play together? Maybe something simple, maybe something a little more complicated. Whatever we all feel like." Smiling brightly, Owen leaned into Sam's touch. "Alrighty, sir. I can do that, and I will." The shorter blonde grinned at the idea of having a day every week to do a scene with both Blaine and Sam. Owen nodded eagerly. "Yeah, that'd be amazing! I'd really, really like that." Owen cuddled himself up against Sam and let out an elated sigh. He hadn't expected to wind up so happy at virtually any point, that night - yet here he was, a bundle of sunshiny joy. Why wasn't the idea of scening regularly with another submissive bothering him? All his life he'd dealt with a bit of a jealous/possessive streak, yet for whatever reason, the way Sam acted with him alone and along with Blaine didn't trigger that part of him. Perhaps it was his love for Blaine that kept his possessiveness at bay. The other submissive had become one of his best friends so it was impossible for Owen to see the other in a negative light. There was a lot Owen needed to mull over. Thoughts and feelings that he'd been tossing around lately had now been amped up considerably - but for now, he just wanted to lay there and enjoy the easy intimacy they had with one another.

After a Week:

[Follow-up scene to this]

It’s a week before Nae returns, a week of Dahl worrying. She comes in through the door to the Undercity, throws her lock picks on the table like keys, and avoids making eye contact as he takes in her bloodied appearance.

“What happened?” he cries in Thalassian, jumping to his feet, “Where they fuck have you been? Why do you look like-- like--” He gestures at her, at the blood on her arm, the darkened bloodied leather of her top over her ribs, the way her face isn’t bruised anymore but it’s still swollen and has now-useless scabs that haven’t finished flaking off-- “And who healed you? How much worse was this, Nae?”

“Nice to see you, too,” she mutters, and Dahl throws his book on the table with a loud bang.

“Don’t give me that crap!” he yells, “If you wanted to see me, I’ve been right fucking here! All week!”

She throws her hands up in surrender, though she’s rolling her eyes at him. “Fine, fine,” she says, sounding exasperated and not sorry at all. “Stopped by Thad’s place, he healed me up. And where I’ve been? Uh, I was doing my job, so... all over the place.” She starts ticking off answers on her fingers like she’s accommodating him, and he grits his teeth. “Crossed off a bunch of big names. Then I went to Dalaran, since I figured, you know, people are distracted right now. Maybe an opportunity for, you know...”

All the fight leaves Dahl and he sits back down on the couch. “Oh, Nae,” he sighs, closing his eyes and shaking his head. He wants to ask if she succeeded, but he knows she didn’t. She wouldn’t have cleaned herself up and tried to avoid talking about it if she’d succeeded. She’d have stumbled in with broken ribs and champagne.

She steps around the low table and drops onto the couch next to him with a frustrated sigh.

Dahl wants to ask a lot of things, suddenly. Did you injure him? Is he at least in pain, even if he’s not dead? Who hurt you? How did he seem-- did he seem okay?

-

“Light, how can you be so smart and still so fucking stupid.”

-

He shakes his head, and rests his face in his hands.

Nae sighs again, draping her limbs everywhere. “The fucker was practically waiting for me.”

“You can let this go,” Dahl offers, muffled, through his hands.

Nae scoffs.

He shakes his head and turns to look at her more directly. “I mean it, I won’t be angry. I’d rather have you than lose you just to know he’s dead.”

She scoffs again. “I’m fine. He ruined your fucking life, I’m not going to stop trying to kill him. You know I’m not.”

It’s true, he does know that.

“Plus, Thad might help me get him alone,” she says with a sharp delighted grin.

Dahl’s long eyebrows raise and he blinks at her. “Thadric is going to help you murder my professor?” He still can’t quite say that word without a bite to it, but he’s trying.

She shrugs. “He offered. Not to kill the guy, but to help me get him alone so I can do it.”

“And he’s aware who you’re trying to kill?”

“A respected professor of the arcane arts in Dalaran,” she confirms in a mocking tone, nodding.

Dahl levels her with a flat stare. “Are you manipulating Thadric into helping you kill people?” he asks, squinting at her.

“He offered!” she insists. “I name-dropped ‘Langdon’ and he didn’t seem to know the bastard. He was mostly worried you’d be upset, honestly.”

Dahl continues squinting at her, not comprehending.

“That I’m trying to kill your ex-teacher,” she elaborates, gesturing vaguely with one hand and picking at the scabs on her face with the other. “Seems to think you’re too good and pure and nice to condone murder, or something.”

Dahl leans against the back of the couch and inhales deeply, mulling that over.

Well.

That’s a can or worms that he just might not have the energy to open at the moment.

“I condone the murder of Prewitt Langdon,” he says finally.

“I know you do,” she says, reaching over to pat him on the shoulder.

He wants to ask so many questions. He glances over at her again and asks, “What happened?”

Another dismissive gesture. “Bastard’s paranoid as fuck, and might have been expecting me.” She looks briefly sheepish about that. “He had a bunch of guards-- more than last time, even.” She looks like she wants to say something else, but changes her mind, and says only, “And you know he’s a powerhouse mage.”

He hates how true that is, hates the implications of that statement in this context. He reaches over to her and runs a metal finger over the slightly swollen skin of her cheekbone, surprising her with the contact. “He did this to you?” he asks, quietly.

She reaches up and rests her hand on his mechanical forearm, and something about the gentleness of it-- only ever for him-- makes him think she’s trying not to scare him off. He didn’t used to like touching, used to get too easily overwhelmed by stimulus. With metal prosthetic limbs, that’s much less of a problem nowadays.

“I’m fine,” she says again, quieter, matching his tone as gently as she can. “He threw some spells at me, mostly did property damage when I dodged. I had to escape like six guards trying to dog-pile me, but I’m fine. I’m here, aren’t I?”

He nods and lets his hand drop to his lap.

She sits up, grabs his face, and presses their foreheads together. “Stop being so fucking worried about me,” she says. “I’ll be fine.”

He knows she believes it, too.

“Don’t go after him again for a while,” he says. Her face is so close it makes his eyes cross to look at her, so he looks down at his lap instead.

She pulls back, presses a loud kiss to his forehead, and nods. “I know. After last time, he’d expect me to try again right away. I’ll set it aside for now.”

He breathes a sigh of relief or disappointment, he’s not entirely sure which.

She reaches into a her leather top and pulls a small thin notebook out of what he assumes must be a pocket in her bra. “You wanna see how many big names I crossed off this week before I went after him?” she asks, sly and conspiratorial and proud.

He smiles, suddenly exhausted but mostly just glad she’s home, and settles back against the couch again. “Sure.”