#man from uncle and magnificent 7 come to mind first for me

[dandoris]

fanfic authors will see a flop movie and say "is anyone gonna write a heartwrenchingly beautiful story about this" and not wait for an answer

[fanmoose12]

catch me if you can

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Erwin Smith, Kenny Ackerman

Genres: Mystery / Romance

Summary: The Ackerman duo. Just the mention of this name filled Hange with so many feelings. Mostly, when she reread the files of their cases over and over, until her eyes watered, she felt pricking annoyance. Sometimes, when she stared at the dead bodies of those scarce unfortunates who stumbled upon their crimes, she was filled with hatred and a pushing need for revenge. Hange couldn’t deny, however, there were times when she marveled at the impudence of their crimes. And, when she was investigating the Ackerman’s cases and saw just how meticulously planned they all were, she couldn’t help but feel something close to fascination.No one knew who they were. No one had seen their faces, no one knew their true names. Almost everyone knew of their crimes.Hange was determined to unravel every last one of their secrets. She will put an end to their crimes and then she will get the elusive Ackermans behind bars.

Chapter 11/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Сhapter 9

Chapter 10

The gala was so much grander than anything Hange could have ever imagined.

The Reiss manor looked imposing and splendid enough from the outside, but the interior was something else entirely, straight up from a fairytale.

As they walked through the black heavy doors, a magnificent stairwell stood in front of them. The stairs were covered by a red carpet, the railings adorned by flower arrangements and all around them were tall candelabra that bathed the room in a gentle, yellow light.

If that’s how the hallway looked, Hange didn’t know what she should expect from the ballroom.

“We should be more careful,” Ackerman whispered in her ear, startling her. With all that beauty around, she forgot that he was walking by her side. She almost forgot why they came here in the first place. “There is a shit ton of security.”

“Huh?” mouth open wide, Hange turned her head from one side to another, looking around the room. How did she miss the security?

“Four-eyes,” Ackerman hissed, pulling on her hand. “Stop acting like a child in the circus. You’re the inheritor of the biggest hotel chain in the country, remember? Behave accordingly.”

“Right, right,” Hange mumbled, lifting her chin and relaxing her shoulders. While giving her a suit, Ymir also assigned her a role. She had to play it off accordingly. “Do I look arrogant enough now?”

Ackerman’s eyes ran through her entire form, following every inch of her burgundy suit. Hange almost blushed under his gaze. “You’re fine,” he breathed out finally. Dressed in a black three-piece suit and with his hair sleeked back to reveal his face and steely eyes, he looked more than just fine. But… Hange didn’t come here to ogle the man. She had a job, she just had to keep that in mind. “And there,” he leaned closer to her, discreetly pointing out at the men in black suits that stood in every corner of the room, still as stone. “That’s where security is. You would have noticed them have you not gaped like a fish.”

Hange ought to kick him for that. At the very least, she ought to throw some curse at him. But his proximity had her heart racing and his hot breath on her cheek had her skin flashing. It had her remembering the today’s morning, when she had woken up to find Ackerman sleeping on her couch. He looked so damn adorable, his mouth slightly open, his face relaxed and so damn attractive. Hange stood there for a long, long minute, staring at him, peacefully snoring, before she surrendered to her weakness and went back to the bedroom to bring a blanket and drape it over him.

She ran into the bathroom immediately after, in dare need of a long, relaxing shower. As she finished, she walked into the hallway and was met with a strong smell that had her mouth filling with saliva. Cautiously, she travelled to the source of it. That’s where she saw Ackerman, who was now wide awake and standing in her kitchen, cooking breakfast out of what little he could find in her refrigerator and humming some pop song under his breath. The sight was so fucking domestic that Hange had to stop herself from sneaking up on him to hug him from behind.

That urge was so sudden, so absurd, it came out of nowhere.

She blamed the weird, annoying impulse on the hangover that had her head pulsing for hours after she had woken up. It also made her feel nauseous but Hange wasn’t entirely sure if the heavy and uneasy sensation was caused by the alcohol, the events of last night, and, especially an accident with Erwin, or the damn butterflies that fluttered around in her stomach every time hers and Ackerman’s eyes met.

Focus, she scolded herself, moving away from Ackerman. Just a few inches were separating them now, but even that was enough to bring some clarity to her thoughts.

“Everyone here is so fucking rich,” she mumbled more to herself than her companion. “I bet that lady’s dress costs more than my annual income. How did Ymir manage to get tickets to this thing?”

“More scamming on her part, I presume,” Ackerman muttered, his lips sliding downwards in the expression of displease. Oh, right, Hange had almost forgotten about the tender bond Ymir and Ackerman had formed during last evening. “And she made me donate a fucking insane amount of money to some charity fund.”

“You donated… stolen money?”

“Of course, I donated stolen money,” he snapped. “I don’t have any kind of other money. In that regard, I’m not so different from these pigs around us. At least, I don’t try to appear nobler than I am.”

And yet Ackerman was noble, even though he was so adamant at hiding this part of him from the others. He could have left her behind last night, could have escaped to attempt to find his uncle on his own. But he hadn’t left. He hadn’t escaped. He had called Erwin and asked him to take care of her.

Hange still didn’t know what to make of it. Ackerman’s kindness confused and perplexed her. It made her wonder how much of his Levi’s persona was a lie.

Was it a lie, at all?

The sight of a grand ballroom in front of her snapped Hange out of her reverie.

The room was majestic – high golden ceiling, adorned with white, intricate ornaments, tall windows, marble statues that stood by the walls, a giant, glistening chandelier that showered every inch of the room with warm, gentle light. On the other side was a stage, where an orchestra was placed. A dozen musicians prevailed over the chatter of the guests, the violins, piano, cellos and trombones worked as one to enhance the atmosphere of the event with a slow, pleasant melody.

Remembering Ackerman’s advice, Hange paid a more thorough attention, not only admiring her surroundings, but also keeping a close eye on every guest, searching for Frieda Reiss’ youthful and pretty face.

“There she is,” Ackerman pointed his chin at the woman in blue dress that was standing next to a balcony.

“We can’t go there now,” Hange shook her head, taking note of the several men that were conversing with Frieda. A little distance away she also saw a couple of men in black that watched the perimeter. “It’d be best if we attract as little attention as possible. Let’s wait until she is alone.”

“While we’re waiting, we can—”

“No!” Hange grabbed his wrist, pulling Ackerman back to her. “We’re not going to snoop around the house until we talk with Frieda. This will be our last resort.”

If someone would catch them in the act… A shudder ran through her at the mere thought.

In her haste to stop Ackerman, she didn’t think twice about touching him. As she realized that her fingers were still wrapped around his slim wrist, Hange wanted to pull away. But just as she was meaning to let go, Ackerman took a hold of her palm, intertwining their fingers.

“If we continue staring at Frieda like that, we’ll be sticking out like a sore thumb. We have to mix with the crowd.” Hange felt her stomach drop. She was almost certain what his next words would be. And she didn’t like it. “We can go and mingle with the guests…”

And possibly risk exposing themselves and alerting every one of their true intentions in the process.

“Or…��� Ackerman had his gaze focused on the center of the room, where a dozen or so couples were spinning around in tact with the music. “How about we take it to the dancefloor, detective?”

Logically, Hange knew that it was a good idea. If they go dancing, they wouldn’t attract much attention and they would be able to discreetly track Frieda’s movements. But from a personal standpoint… she couldn’t imagine a prospect that was more undesirable to her.

She swallowed, accepting her fate. The logical part of her won.

“Let’s do this,” she pulled Ackerman closer, approaching the dancefloor like she was marching to war.

Once they were there, surrounded by laughing, happy couples, she put her hand on the small of his back, her other clasping his palm. His suit was soft under her touch, his warmth radiating through the fabric. His hand was rough and calloused, but his grip was gentle, feather light.

“Be careful”, Erwin had said to her last night, his blue eyes boring into hers with intensity that was so rarely aimed at her, “you’re playing with fire.”

She scoffed at his dramatics last night, but now she could almost feel the flames, licking at her feet. They grew bigger, hotter as she looked into Ackerman’s eyes. They were the color of the stormy sky, dangerous and beautiful. Mesmerizing.

“The music choice is awful,” she complained with feigned discontent, a vain attempt to distract herself from the effect that bastard had on her. “This song is probably older than I am.”

“But it’s pleasant,” Ackerman remarked.

Hange couldn’t protest. The song was pleasant. The musicians were talented too, the trombone, cellos and piano mixed together wonderfully, creating a melancholic and magnificent melody. And dancing with Ackerman, being close enough to feel his body heat, to hear his breathing, to smell his woody cologne… it was pleasant as well.

Turning away from him, Hange forced her attention on the other side of the ballroom, where Frieda was now talking with an elderly couple. Frieda was smiling, brightly and genuinely. Her smile was almost identical to Historia’s. Perhaps, it would help them win Frieda’s favor today.

“It looks like we have to continue dancing,” she spun them around, providing Ackerman with the view of their target. With nothing else to do now, Hange continued talking, hiding her uneasiness behind mindless chatter. “You are a better dancer than I thought.”

“Once Kenny decided to steal a painting from the Opera House. I had to seduce one of the dancers to get the entrance key.”

In spite of herself, Hange chuckled. “Did you succeed?”

“Let’s just say that I was much more efficient at dancing than at seducing,” he said, his lips curling up. “And you? Where do detectives learn how to dance?”

“I was a member of the drama club, remember?”

Judging by Ackerman’s wide eyed look, he not only remembered about the drama club, but he was also surprised that Hange remembered talking about it.

Perhaps… she had disclosed more than she should have. Perhaps, it would have been wiser to play the drunken forgetful fool card. But before she could bath herself in mortification, Ackerman squeezed her hand a little tighter and whirled her around, compelling her to move forward.

“Frieda is alone,” he explained curtly. “We need to hurry.”

___

As it turned out, there was no need for hiding in the plain sight. Frieda was already aware of their presence.

“Hange Zoe,” as they approached, Frieda took a step forward, a sweet smile already on her lips. “My father has spoken highly about you. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Although, I do wonder,” her bright violet eyes glistened in the light, as she slowly looked both of them over. “What is a busy detective doing on my gala?”

“Investigating, of course,” Hange countered easily. “Would you mind answering a few questions?”

She didn’t have her trusty notebook with her, and its absence was felt keenly by her. Without it, Hange didn’t know where to put her hands. Distraughtly, she brought them behind her back, wringing them slightly. Her wrist was discreetly slapped not a second later.

Startled and confused, she threw a brief look at Ackerman. He was staring back at her, ‘don’t act so skittish’, his eyes seemed to tell her. Hange scoffed and kicked his foot. As if she didn’t know that already.

“You can ask your questions,” Frieda replied. “But I fail to see how my answers can help you find that missing girl of yours.”

“Ah, so you’re aware of my case? And Krista Lenz’s disappearance?”

“Perhaps, you’re also aware that Krista isn’t her real name,” Ackerman added.

There was a slight pause, a beat of silence that excited Hange. Did they manage to catch Frieda off guard so easily? But a moment has passed, and her composure returned. Her eyes narrowed, her gaze filling with suspicion, as she stared Ackerman down.

“My father failed to mention that you have a partner, detective Zoe. Didn’t you use to work alone?”

Ha! Hange thought. Frieda had to do a little better than that to keep her on her toes.

“This investigation is complicated, I need all the help I can get. And, Miss Reiss,” she held Frieda’s gaze, slowly curling her lips in a smile. “You haven’t answered our question. Do you know that Krista Lenz isn’t the girl’s actual name? Do you know that her real name is,” Hange paused, sharing with Ackerman a look full of anticipation. “Historia Reiss, which would make her…”

“Your sister,” Ackerman finished.

They’ve got her, Hange could feel it. They’ve laid all of their cards, now they just needed to give a final push and Frieda would crack. She could see those cracks already, appearing on her beautiful face.

Hold on, Historia, I’m coming for you

“If you know something about her disappearance, we’d be happy to—”

“No.” Frieda said, cutting Hange off.

“Huh?” Hange’s thoughts came to an abrupt stop after the sudden interruption. “No as if—”

“No as if I won’t help you. No as if I have no idea what you’re talking. No,” Frieda’s eyes flashed menacingly, as she stepped closer to Hange, “as if I don’t have time for this. No as if leave my house before I call security on you.”

“Wait a minute, I—”

“Hange,” Ackerman had his hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling her away from Frieda. “No means no. Let’s go before we get into trouble.”

Hange let him take her away. She wasn’t ecstatic about their plan B, but she knew now that they had no other choice. If Frieda didn’t want to share the information willingly… they would take the information from her.

“Thank you for your time and enjoy your evening.” She told Frieda, before they disappeared back into the crowd.

___

With her hand securely grasped in his, Ackerman led her forward, effortlessly moving through small groups of people. He kept his head straight and his expression seemed nearly relaxed, but Hange could see the subtle movements of his eyes. He slowly swiped his gaze from one side of the room to another, noting a hundred different things, no doubt.

“You’ve studied the blueprints, right?” he asked in a voice no louder than a breath.

Hange nodded, an image of the map materializing in front of her eyes. If they were in the center of the house, then—

“We need to get to the left wing, Frieda’s room is at the end of the hallway.”

If Ymir’s map was correct. If no one would see them enter another – probably, locked - part of the building. If they wouldn’t get—

“Relax,” Ackerman gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “It will be fine.”

“But what if we will—”

“We won’t.” He calmly promised. “I won’t allow it. I’ll keep us safe, trust me.”

“I trust you,” she said. She didn’t add ‘to keep us safe’. Ackerman seemed to take note of that.

“Did you tell your boss about our plan?”

Did she tell Erwin? Of course, she did not. After a stern talking off she had received last night, she thought it was for the best if she didn’t share the details of their wonderful plan that involved breaking inside Reiss’ manor.

“I forgot to mention it last night.”

“What did—” Hange knew what he wanted to ask. But, perhaps, Ackerman wasn’t ready to hear her answer yet. She could relate with him on that. Hange also hadn’t been ready for everything Erwin had said to her. But she had no other choice. “Never mind, let’s focus on the plan.”

It was hard to do as he said, when Ackerman’s thumb kept brushing her knuckles with enough gentleness to make her weak in knees. Hange wasn’t sure if he was even aware of what he was doing, but her heart noticed, and now it was performing cart-wheels in her ribcage. This whole horseshit with feeling was starting to get really fucking annoying.

Hange yanked her hand out of his grasp with a loud huff. Ignoring Ackerman’s bewildered gaze, she continued moving through the crowd, evading dancing couples and laughing guests. Ackerman was at her heels, following her just a breath away. Even so, with their distance so miniscule, she felt so much better and calmer now.

But not for long. As soon as they approached the entrance, leading to the hallway, Ackerman wrapped his arm around her waist, bringing her flush against him.

“Play along,” he whispered, before walking up to the two guards. “I’m sorry, but where is the bathroom? You see, my date here had a little too much champagne…”

He spoke so smoothly and confidently, going as much as adding a touch of caring to his voice. Hange wouldn’t let him best her at this, she was a member of the drama club for fuck's sake. She leaned heavily against Ackerman, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. Feeling him froze and his heartbeat pick up was the most delightful thing that happened to her the entire evening.

It was good to know that she wasn’t the only one who had her body rebel against her mind.

The guard guided them to a door on the other side of the stairs, and Ackerman thanked him and started dragging her towards it. Hange giggled, when she heard him let out a quiet curse.

“I’m glad you’re having fun,” he hissed, pulling another giggle out of her. Something witty and sarcastic was on the tip of her tongue, when Ackerman added, “I’ll be having my fun later.”

Huh? Before Hange could ask him to elaborate, Ackerman pushed her through the door inside the bathroom.

“Wait!” something very close to dread started to sink in her stomach. “Why are we here? Weren’t we supposed to get inside Frieda’s room?”

“Does Frieda’s room have a balcony?” Ackerman asked, ignoring her question completely.

“According to the blueprints, it does…”

“Can you find it from the outside?”

“I probably could, yes, but…”

“Excellent,” he promptly walked up to the window, opening it. “Then let’s go.”

Before Hange could protest, before she could curse him to hell and back, Ackerman lifted his leg, climbing out of the window. Hange watched him, eyes wide.

“What are you waiting for?” he urged, hanging from the windowsill. “Did you have another way to get inside her room?”

“I imagined it wouldn’t involve me jumping of the windows.”

“Don’t jump, climb out.”

Hange couldn’t fucking believe him. Don’t jump, he said as if it was a completely normal situation. Climb out, as if she knew how to do this shit.

She told Ackerman the very same thing.

“It’s easier that it looks,” he shrugged, still effortlessly hanging of the fucking window. Just how strong the bastard was? “C’mon, four-eyes, we don’t have all night. I can go alone if—”

“No.”

It was her fucking case, her investigation. And if she needed to climb out of the fucking window to finish it, then so be it.

“If I fall, I’m going to blame you,” she warned, as she threw over her leg. “Erwin will have your head for it.”

“You won’t fall,” he said. “I won’t let you.”

Hange looked him in the eyes to see if he was joking. She saw nothing but sincerity.

Fuck.

She threw her other leg over the windowsill, now hanging of it with her legs dangling in the air. She tentatively put them on a thin patch of cobblestone, testing her grounds.

Huh, it wasn’t as difficult as she had expected. The parapet underneath the window was wide for her to stand almost comfortably.

“Good thing Ymir got you a suit and not a dress,” Ackerman said. “Now where to?”

“Move to the left, to the end of the wall. And…”

“Yes?”

“Go slowly, alright? In case—”

“I got you, four-eyes. Don’t worry.”

Somehow, his words actually made her feel more at ease. And as she felt the wind on her face, Hange allowed herself a little grin. It was rather exciting.

Together, they started to move.

Hange never thought she’d be scaling a fucking wall, but here she was. As she tentatively travelled from one windowsill to another, she tried to breathe as quietly and calmly as it was possible. Her arms hurt from the exertion of supporting her weight, her legs were shaking and every time she caught the glimpse of the ground underneath, her excitement faded and her panic grew, closing up her throat and sending her insides flying. What made the whole ordeal just a little more unbearable were Ackerman and the way he easily performed his every move, calm and controlled. Hange would have snapped at him, if she wasn’t so afraid that opening her mouth would send her plummeting to her death.

“You won’t die if you fall down,” Ackerman said, possibly sensing her mental state. Or catching sight of her wide, terrified eyes and trembling hands. “You’ll just break your legs and arms and possibly injure your spine.”

Was it his attempt at giving comfort? He sucked at it.

“Just shut up,” she gritted through her teeth. Thank god this part of the building had no lights on. Hange didn’t even want to think what would have happened if someone saw them. Falling to her death didn’t seem that grave of a prospect compared to it.

Only a couple of windows stood between them and the balcony in Frieda’s room. Hange eternally thanked all the times Mike dragged her out the office and into a gym. Thanks to his insistence, her brain didn’t splatter across the pavement.

Hange released a sigh of pure relief, when she saw Ackerman reach the railing of the balcony and swing his legs over it.

The experience wasn't completely awful, Hange even enjoyed the surge of adrenaline and the wind gushing through her hair, but still... thank fuck, this nightmare was almost over.

But just as she had lifted her hand to touch the metal bar of the railing, her right foot slipped, missing the next cobblestone. She cried out, as her arms flared up, desperately trying to get a hold of something stable enough to support all of her weight. But the railing was still out of her reach, her other leg buckled under her, and Hange felt her heart stop, as she dangled from the wall, holding onto it with one trembling hand.

Her fingers were sliding down, slowly but surely. Hange closed her eyes, preparing for the fall.

But it never came.

Just as she started to descend, her arm was grasped, roughly yanking her upwards. Hange shot her head up, meeting the steel grey eyes. They were opened wide – worried, frightened.

“I’ve got you,” Levi husked, his voice thick with panic. “Hange, I’ve got you.”

He was craning over the railing, his upper body hanging of it. But despite the danger he was facing, he hold onto her tightly, grunting as he started to lift her up.

Hange did her best to assist him, grabbing the metal bar as soon as it was close enough. Even then, when she had it secured with a white-knuckled clasp, Ackerman didn’t let go of her hand.

With the last bit of effort, he got her out, flinging her over the railing and to the balcony marble floor.

Oxygen was able to enter her lungs only after Hange felt the ground beneath her body. Despite the precarious situation, her landing was not painful at all. It was rather soft, and Hange almost marveled at it out loud.

But then she finally made sense of her surroundings. She didn’t fall onto the ground. She fell on Ackerman.

This was starting to become a pattern.

Shocked and overwhelmed, Hange knew only one way to let out her emotions. She started laughing, hiding her face in the crook of his neck.

“Are you alright?” he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, sounding as shaken as she was feeling.

Still laughing like crazy, Hange gave him a nod, rolling off him. “Sorry,” she mumbled, pushing her sweaty bangs from her face. “I didn’t mean to— well, you know.”

“You didn’t want to paint that lovely patch of ground with your blood? Good to know, four-eyes, I was starting to get worried.”

“Asshole,” despite herself, she snickered again. Jesus, she almost fucking died. But she didn’t, because of Ackerman. “Thank you, by the way. If it weren’t for you—”

“You’d be a mess, and you know how much I hate it,” he said, curling his lips up in a slight smile. It suited him, that smile. Hange almost reached towards him—

Perhaps, she had hit her head after all.

She turned away, getting to her knees. Her legs were still shaking, but she managed to get up. As soon as she was up, Ackerman appeared beside her. He took out the knife that was strapped to his calf and approached the balcony door. It was a tall glass door that consisted of two parts. Naturally, it was closed. Ackerman kneeled before it and with a move so swift Hange almost didn’t catch it, drove the knife in the slit between two parts of the door, moving it upwards until he heard a click. The door was opened in the next moment.

“Ready to find out what Lady Reiss is hiding?”

“As ready as ever,” Hange muttered, following Ackerman inside.

Frieda’s room looked exactly as Hange had expected the room of a rich heiress to look like. It was spacious, with high ceilings and tall windows that were partially covered by heavy green curtains. A large oak desk stood near the entrance to the balcony and next to it was an easel. The easel was enclosed by a white cloth.

Curious, Hange took it off, revealing an unfinished painting. Despite the drawing being nothing more than a rough sketch, that bright smile and big eyes were easily recognizable.

And Frieda had the gall to claim that she didn’t know Historia. Now they had a proof it was a lie. Well, she could continue lying all she wanted. Hange was going to uncover all of her secrets anyway.

“Go over her papers,” Ackerman said, taking a seat at Frieda’s desk. “I’ll see what she has in her computer.”

“What if it’s protected by a password?”

“That’s why I’ll be taking care of it. Unless… you know how to hack into computer?”

“You know how to hack into computer?” Hange asked incredulously.

“I’m a thief that police couldn’t catch for years, remember? A computer is nothing for me.”

Of course, of course, how could Hange forget that Ackerman was also a little cocky shit? However…

“I almost caught you,” she noted, matter-of-factly.

“You tricked us.”

“Traute tricked you. I merely asked her to do it.”

“That still counts as cheating.”

Cheating, Hange rolled her eyes. As if their game had any rules. As if it was a game at all.

“Where is Traute now, by the way?” Ackerman cautiously asked. “Is she…”

“She is alive, if that’s what you’re worried about. And in prison, serving her time. After she found out that your uncle is still free, she was more than happy for the opportunity to hide.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad she is well.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Had she not only failed to apprehend Ackermans but inadvertently caused the death of another person, Hange wouldn’t know what to do with herself after that giant of a fuck up. She wouldn’t know how to continue working after that. She wouldn’t know how to look in the mirror. She—

She shook her head, getting rid of these thoughts. Traute was alive and well, paying for her crimes in the safety of prison walls. She had a more pressing matter on her hands right now.

With moonlight serving as her lamp, Hange shifted through a pile of documents, official letters and sketches, all done by Frieda’s skillful hand. She carefully studied each piece of paper, hoping to find some kind of a clue.

She wasn’t that lucky.

And as she looked through page after meaningless page, her eyes started to wander. To the painting on the wall, to the beautifully decorated wardrobe, to the man sitting next to her – to his face, illuminated by a pale blue light of the computer screen, to his eyes that swiftly moved from side to side, to his mouth that was slightly opened in concentration.

Hange cursed under her breath, averting her gaze before Ackerman could catch her in the act.

“Also I’m not sure if you’re aware,” she began, feigningly detachment. “But leaving stupid notes on the scene of crimes isn’t the best course of action for a thief.”

“What?” he looked up, meeting her eyes.

“The notes,” Hange repeated. “The ones I found after every heist.”

“Ah, that. It was funny.”

“Funny?!”

What the fuck?

“It pissed you off. Watching you run around and curse was hilarious.”

Ackerman had sure enjoyed himself in those moments, if his fond tone of voice was anything to go by. Which made Hange so angry, but also made her wonder…

“Wait, you’ve seen me doing all of that? How?”

Ackerman turned his eyes back to the computer screen. His lips were pressed in a tight line before he mumbled, “Sometimes I stayed behind and watched.”

“You— what? Why? When? How I haven’t noticed?”

“No one notices the janitor.”

Hange stared at him in shock. Perhaps, Ackerman truly had a reason to feel gleeful. How could she not notice him? She should have noticed an attractive janitor, shouldn’t she? But then again, Hange always had a tunnel sort of vision, while she was at work.

“Anyway, that was very shitty of you,” she concluded, returning to the papers. “Mocking me like that…”

“I didn’t mock. I teased.”

“Isn’t that same thing?”

“Not quite.”

Hange scoffed and rolled her eyes. She never knew that banter could be so frustrating. Usually she was the one who infuriated other people. But Ackerman was just as good at the back and forth. A tough opponent, that’s for sure.

“Have you found something?” she asked him, as she put the stack of papers down. She looked at them for long enough to realize that she wouldn’t find anything that might be useful for them in any way. Perhaps, her partner had a better luck.

“There is nothing here but pretentious hipster photos and email exchanges with corporate fuckers.”

Or… he didn’t.

“So…” Hange had another back plan prepared. It was just as illegal as their current one, and even more reckless. But… she had gone that far, stopping now would only squander all of their previous efforts. “Are you good at pickpocketing?”

“What?” Ackerman turned to her, his face incredulous. “Are you saying—”

“There is nothing on her desk, nothing on her computer. We have only one possibility left. We need to look through her phone.”

Something had got to be there, Hange was sure of it. Frieda knew something, had to. How else explain the unfinished painting then? And the familiarity with the case Hange was working on?

“You want me to steal her phone. Huh, you’re growing up, four-eyes.”

Ackerman looked actually impressed. Hange subdued a wave of delight she felt because of it.

“We would need to get close to Frieda again,” he muttered, scratching his chin. “And for that we need to get back to the ballroom and—”

“No scaling the walls anymore.” Hange announced resolutely. It was exciting, yes, but she had her fill of this particular exercise already. She liked her neck and her undamaged bones.

“What do you propose then?”

What indeed…

“I’ll figure something out. Just trust me, alright?”

“I trust you.”

He didn’t hesitate, Ackerman didn’t even think before he spoke. Was he telling the truth then? Did he really trust her, and so readily?

She didn’t know what to think of it.

Perhaps, she shouldn't think about it then.

You had a case you have to focus on, Hange reminded to herself.

"Let's get going then."

They moved everything to the way it was before - put the papers back into the neat piles, closed the door and turned off the computer.

Then they left the room, stepping into a dark hallway. They walked through it carefully, quietly.

Everything was going so well.

Until it wasn't.

They've heard footsteps first. Then, came the voices. And they were growing closer, headed in their direction.

Fuck, they had to do something and fast.

Hange had to do something. But only one thing came to mind. One foolish, stupid thing. It was all Hange had in that fleeting moment.

You’re playing with fire, Erwin had said. Well, Hange was ready to get burned.

___

Shit. That was the first and his only reaction to the newly arisen problem.

Someone was coming their way. Levi could see the light of flashlight just behind the corner.

They had no time to run. They had nowhere to hide. They—

"Play along," Hange hissed, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. Before he could comprehend what the fuck was going on, Hange had him pressed against the wall, her face incredibly close to his.

"It means nothing, Ackerman," she whispered, before she put her lips on his.

His heart stopped, his brain short-circuited. Hange was kissing him. Her hands were fisted in the lapels of his jacket, her lips were moving against his, her tongue slipped inside his mouth.

It was phenomenal. Fantastic, splendid, better than Levi could possibly imagine.

And at the same time, it meant nothing. Hange had said so, and who was he to argue?

It meant nothing, absolutely nothing, so he pulled her closer, put his palm onto her cheek to caress it gently. He allowed himself to linger, kept their lips connected even when the guards arrived.

“Hands up! And turn around!”

"Ah, sorry, sorry!" to Levi’s immense disappointment, Hange took a step back, a bashful grin appearing on her face. "We got carried away a little, that's so embarrassing."

She had laughed, her hand travelling down his chest. To the outside looker, they probably appeared like a madly in love couple. Nothing could be further from the truth but— Levi cherished that fleeting moment nevertheless.

The two guards that had caught them shared a look, full of incomprehension.

"This area is off limits," one of them, the taller one said. "How did you even get in here?"

"My boyfriend wanted to explore a fantasy of his... You know, there is no obstacle that can stop true love."

The expression on the guards' faces, the perfect mix of shock, confusion and disgust, was priceless. Levi could barely keep himself from laughing.

"We can't just let them go," the shorter one mumbled to his partner. "Maybe, we should take them to Miss Reiss?"

"Agreed. Let her take care of these weirdos."

The men stood behind them, pushing them forward. Catching his eye, Hange flashed him a victorious smile. Ah, so everything was going according to her plan. Good to know.

Levi leaned closer to her. "If you ever tire of being a detective," he murmured, "Think of becoming a grifter."

"Is that a compliment? Or a job offer?"

"Could be both," he shrugged and was rewarded by a quiet chuckle.

The guards led them out of the dark empty hallway of the left wing, bringing them to the bright and golden colored stairway.

"Stay here," the shorter guard instructed. "I'll bring Miss Reiss to you."

A couple of minutes later, Frieda came out to them, wearing the same sugary smile. That kind of smile was perfect for her father's campaign posters. Perhaps, that's why she had it refined it to such degree.

Still looking like a fucking fairytale princess, Frieda lifted her hand and let the guards return to their positions. The smile slipped from her face the moment the three of them were left alone.

"I told you to leave," her eyes narrowed, unmasking the anger she felt. Right now, she didn't resemble a sweet, pretty girl that was her sister. Right now, she looked exactly like her father. "Why are you still here? And what were you doing in that hallway?"

"With all due respect," Hange slightly bowed. Levi coughed to hide his snicker. "But I don't exactly kiss and tell."

Frieda seethed, color rising to her cheeks.

"I apologize for my partner," Levi put his hand on her elbow, his fingers blindly searching for his goal. He found it, and fairly quickly. Oh, how he loved dresses with pockets. Phone securely grasped in his fingers, Levi pushed it into the sleeve of his jacket. "And I apologize for our behavior. We didn't mean to cause you any harm."

He moved his hand away from Frieda, putting it inside the pocket of his pants. Once the phone was there, he gave Hange a small nod.

"Yes, it was a mistake that I hope you would forget," Hange gave Frieda a smile - a wide, radiant one.

Frieda scoffed, obviously not impressed. "You entered the private property without my knowledge or consent, I should call police." Levi tensed. That scenario was very, very unwelcome. "But my father spoke very highly of you, detective Zoe. And your Captain, Erwin Smith, is a man of great virtue. It’s because I respect both of them, I'll let you go. Just, for the love of God, leave this time."

"Already on it!" Hange exclaimed, taking Levi by the sleeve of his jacket and dragging him to the exit.

"Fucking hell," she cursed when they were a good distance away. "I thought she'd call Erwin on me. Imagine if that had happened!"

Levi did, albeit briefly. He winced as a very clear image entered his mind. Yesterday's fiasco was scary enough, he could only guess how bad it would be if he actually got Hange into some kind of trouble. Erwin would have torn his head off before Levi could say "It was her plan".

“You got the phone, right?”

“Of course, I’ve got it,” he waited until they were out of the house and fished it out, showing Hange a sparkling yellow phone case.

“Well, open it!” she urged, hovering above him, her hands resting on his shoulders.

Levi activated the screen, and, unsurprisingly, the phone requested a password.

“Do you know how old is she?”

“Twenty-seven?” Hange sounded incredibly unsure. Levi lifted his head to watch her bit her lip in concentration. The same lip he touched with his own not so long ago.

A wrong fucking train of thought, he chastised himself immediately.

“Or twenty-eight? Something like that, I’m pretty sure.”

Levi nodded and entered Frieda’s approximate birth year. It worked on a second try.

Apparently, their girl was a very busy person. She received more than a few dozen phone calls every day. However, there was one number that popped out with more frequency than the others. And usually the calls occurred after office hours.

It could be nothing. Maybe, it was Frieda’s lover. Or best friend. Or someone equally important to her. So important that she hadn’t even bothered to add their name to the phonebook.

It could be nothing. But Levi had a feeling.

Sharing a brief look with Hange, he dialed that number.

The call was answered just a second later.

“Hey, lady, weren’t you the one who told me not to call you? Or is your event for rich fuckers that boring that you decided to ditch them all and bother me?”

Levi froze in one spot, his mouth hanging open.

That voice, he could recognize in anywhere.

That voice, it belonged to Kenny.

[electronicdelusionstarlight]

Ok, here's how I'd set up an actual BNHA Elder Scrolls crossover in case I ever get around to write it:

1) While he's, like, 4 years old in his living room watching TV, Izuku's Quirk activates. It will not get an actual official name but we can call it Planeswalker Spark ala MTG. Basically kid can tear a hole through reality and launch himself into a different plane of existence, which is what Izuku accidentally does here.

2) It's a slow process tho, which gives Inko plenty of time to rush in from where she was to tackle her son away from the sudden green glow brightly shining around him, a impulse decision based on her Instinct to protect him at all costs, which only ends up with both of them getting sent to Skyrim.

3) Izuku incidentally also happens to be a Shezzarine. His quirk is a mutation from her mom's side, whose Quirks usually affect space in some way, and is completely unrelated to this. Anyway, he and Inko are on the cart to Helgen now, usual shit, The plot of Modded Skyrim takes places, with Inko taking on the brunt of the adventure and trying to shelter Dragonborn Izuku from his destiny.

4) After many trials and tribulations, 2 DLCs, 4 guilds, 1 Dragon War, several adopted orphans as well as so many quest mods it's unreal, Lucien Flavius and several members of the College of Winterhold manages to reverse engineer Izuku's quirk, and gives him an enchanted ring to better control it. Kid can now safely use it without risking ending up somewhere completely different from his planned location. Izuku is now 14 years old. He also had to do terrible things no matter how much his mother tried to shelter him and take the brunt of the war crimes. This leads to PTSD obviously, but also to a now blue and orange morality system, chief among them his general disregard with killing or not killing someone.

5) Getting back to 10 years prior, Izuku's Quirk causes a ripple in the Tachion Field surrounding earth, which is felt on I-Island. David Shield spends the remaining 10 years monitoring and trying to better understand the phenomena, since it could be revolutionary in the till then hypothetical field of time and space travel. When Izuku activates his quirk back 10 years later, I-Island has by then built a teleportation device, hijacking Izuku's trip and sending him to I-Island.

6) Meanwhile on a familiar junkyard, Hatsume Mei's scrappy device built via salvaged parts, spit and lots of duct tape comes to life on her back, individuating a sudden tear in the now constantly decaying Tachion Field. It's happening in the middle of the ocean tho, so she can't really deal with it now.

7) Anyway, David Shield needs Izuku at hand for his Quirk, but Izuku and his mom came back to Japan trying to live a double life since by then most of their friends and family are in Tamriel. Except, both of them have been declared dead for years, and Hisashi, the bitch, ran away with the insurance money, so they don't have a life to return to. David Shield can't let them get back to Tamriel tho, again, he needs Izuku on planet for his new research, bit also realizes that if he actually wants to leave he can't really stop him, except Izuku, you know, still wants to become a hero, just like his mom is in Skyrim. So they reach a compromise, he will try to get into UA, and will take a new identity as Mikumo Akatani, usual excuses to have Izuku get into 1-A you know?

8) Izuku can't really make his Quirk public tho. So, after forging his and his mother identities as a foreign dignitary from the states and her son, and his Quirk is listed as "Cataclysm" (The last perk in the destruction skill tree for a Fire (and Earth) mage in the Ordinator Mod). He is after all a member of the college of Winterhold, trained under the Great and Powerful Destruction Magician Uncle J'Zargo the Magnificent himself, of course he knows plenty of spells. However, he can't really explain all of them as one Quirk, or better yet, he can, it would just get really complicated, so he just goes "My mom can move things with her mind, my... Father, ugh, can blow fire from his mouth, obviously my Quirk is being able to control flames with my mind, usually from my hands but some times also via vocalisation."

9) Which means Izuku has to really contain what shit he can do. It's a very superman like situation, since he needs to remain in control at all times and also not slip up and pull spells he couldn't explain as his "fire" quirk, least people start asking questions. Some people however notice.

10) Tsuyu and Todoroki start an unofficial conspiracy theorist fan club over it.

Tsuyu was there with him at the USJ, where in his sudden hyperfocused competence over the crisis situation made her realize A) This is not the first time this boy has almost died in his life and B) Back in the water at the USJ, she could swear she saw his hands shining as some strange light washed over him, and she could swear he could swim as fast as her back then, and for such long periods of time she could swear he could breath underwater. That makes it really suspicious.

Todoroki sees another kid with a powerful fire quirk but also the signs of a hard life and who seems to not like his father, and instantly goes "Oh... same hat." So his conspiracy is that Izuku is actually Endeavour Bastard Son he had after a premarital affair during a visit to the states 14 years prior, and he has a corkboard to prove it. He also realizes that he's trying to contain his power just like he is, which makes him believe he too must have done a pledge just like him.

11) Shinso beats Bakugou on the first match of the tournament. Doesn't really matter to the overall crossover I just wanted to point this out.

12) Anyway, this explodes during the Sports Festival. It's Todoroki Vs Midoriya, and 1) everyone is comparing the two due to similar Quirks, which Izuku finds really unfair to both of them, 2) Todoroki is being a stubborn ass with his quirk and 3) Izuku can't really talk now l, can't he? That would make him an hypocrite, and he might be a Mage, an Honorary member of the Explorer Guild, a Dragonborn and also a Bard College Student for some reason, but he's not a hypocrite, so he just up and SNAPS because hey, maybe Todoroki will actually unleash his full potential if someone else does it first too.

13) So, Izuku Midoriya, on national television, starts blasting. Armour Spells, Ice Spells, Lightning Spells, Mind Spells, Water, Wind, Air, Poison, turns himself invisible, summons a Dremora Champion, shouts with the power of the souls of the Dragons his mother slew, Todoroki actually has to start using his fire but is mostly out of sheer survival now ("There is always a bigger fish out there, and one day you deciding not to use your full power just because of a stupid pledge will get someone killed. Trust me, I know. You better start realizing that now Todoroki"), and is still a close match because Izukus spells all start from his hands or mouth after all, and Todoroki has now something to prove more than ever.

14) Without his robes on tho, Izuku Magicka is depleted in the end, ending up in a tie as the two collapse from exhaustion. Rather than an arm wrestling match this time, Izuku is disqualified due to the sudden mutation of his Quirk. He's fine with it and probably expected it, bit this still bums Todoroki out, as well as all of his classmates and friends.

15) After the Festival there are 4 leading theories on Izuku now:

A) All Might, discovering via Tsukuachi that Izuku's identity is fake, as well that he looks a bit like a missing case kid from 10 years ago, AND knowing that AFO is back due to the USJ... Believes Izuku is a mole, and is working, willingly or unwillingly, for AFO after he was implanted with all those Quirks. He is now incredibly suspicious of him, and it kind of shows. Nighteye is on the same page despite not having talked to the man in years, and is subtly trying to have Mirio scout out the kid to see if he's a threat. Mirio is too much of a Golden Retriever to even realize what has been asked of him tho, and just think Nighteye wants him to befriend another kid with a promising Quirk.

B) Todoroki now knows the truth. Izuku is Monoma's long lost twin brother. His Quirk allows him to copy the Quirks of those around him (Iron Skin and Stone Skin would be Tetsu Tetsu and Kirishima Quirks after all, Invisibility is Hakagure, Fire and Ice are either his or Bakugou's, Lightning is Kirishima, and Tsuyu mentioned how he could swim and breath underwater while near her, meaning he was using her Quirk). He has connected the dots.

C) AFO still remembers his brother's lover, the stories she came up with, the long periods of times she was gone, only to return with a haunted look in her eyes... The powers she hid from him, thinking he wouldn't notice, the way she fled right after his brother lay lifeless on the ground, almost disappearing into thin air with his broken body... The family his brother hid so well from him, as if they were in another world all together... They never told him, but he knew, he knew she had some sort of Quirk, one that had been then inherited by this new Mikumo Akatani, so similar to HIM yet so different, back from the other world in revenge for his ancestor.

He has to capture that kid. He's family after all, and his quirk belongs to him, it's his by right as his brother's keeper. And with it, he will be able to extend his reach to worlds beyond his own.

D) the official version, the one David Shield puts out, is that Izuku's Quirk evolved unexpectedly due to the new environment he was in, mentioning it as a precursor of Quirk Singularity.

E) The only one who actually got it is Hatsume. She can tell Izuku is the source of the Tachion Spikes and subsequent decays as he "returns home" in Skyrim when leaving school, so she perfectly understands that he's a powerful warlock from across dimension who had come here with the power of science and unholy magic to infiltrate society posing as a hero. Obviously, she's going to help him do it becoming his evil vizier and grand artificer of course. Worst case scenario, she can now market the shit out of him as a hero using her babies, best one, he succeeds and she gets to rule Australia out of their "Deal." I say "Deal" because Izuku isn't even sure he got half of what she was saying, but she seems nice and if Skyrim taught him anything is that you should treasure everyone willing to be your friend, so they hang out together, scheming and plotting without even realising it.

Tsuyu however pretty much got the gist of what Hatsume was saying (it was a crowded lunch break after all) and while she does know Izuku doesn't seem the type of the interdimensional conqueror, she still decides to call dibs on North America in exchange of becoming his Grand Admiral.

And Who knows, maybe he'll end up starting an actual line of Dragonborn Emperors there too.

Anyway that's the rough draft.

[baoshan-sanren]

Chapter 8 Part 2

of the wwx emperor au which I’m thinking about calling Emperor Wei WuXian and his Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Birthday

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 Part 1

Once, when WangJi was very young, he had broken a Sect rule. 

He had fought without permission.

In the cultivation world, the members of the Lan Sect are outcasts, each one equally despised. But within the Sect, things have never been that simple. When it came to inheritance, bloodlines have aways been faithfully followed, each generation dutifully carrying the burdens of their ancestors. Lan XiChen may have inherited his father’s position, and Lan WangJi his physical appearance, but they had both also inherited equal parts of their father’s failure, and the resulting blame.

At the time, WangJi had been too young to understand why he must shoulder this blame, and carry it without complaint. He had only wanted to defend his father’s honor.

His punishment was to climb and descend the Cloud Recesses steps from five in the morning to nine in the evening, a bag of rocks strapped to his back, without stopping, without resting, for five days.  

Every punishment has a purpose; copying the Sect rules improves the mind, and the handstands improve the balance. Even being beaten with a plank can improve resilience, and build up pain tolerance. There seemed to be no purpose to WangJi’s punishment; it was tedious and exhausting, placing his feet on the same steps, seeing the same stones and trees, his strength sapping away without gaining anything in return.

At the end of the fifth day, when WangJi had climbed the steps to the Cloud Recesses gate for the last time, he had found uncle waiting underneath the arch.

“This will be your life,” uncle had said, “You will carry a burden someone else has placed on your shoulders, and you will carry it past the point of exhaustion. You will never be allowed to put it down or rest. The world will move on around you, uncaring. Fighting it is futile. Hating it is futile. No one will ever take this burden from you. One day, your children will shoulder this burden as well, but yours will never grow any lighter to carry.”

The words had made WangJi feel helpless and small.

“What should I do?” he had asked.

Uncle had placed his hand on the top of WangJi’s head, a rare gesture of comfort, “Lift your shoulders, straighten your spine, and carry it well.”

These words echo in his mind as he rises at the Emperor’s command. He feels exactly as he had back then; the air in his chest is stuttering, the burden of his father’s failure pressing down on his shoulders. But he lifts his chin and meets the Emperor’s eyes nonetheless, refusing to bend under the weight.

The Emperor watches him for a few moments, his face expressionless. WangJi had thought his appearance stern that same morning, but it is so much more imposing now, that WangJi is forced to confront him alone.

There is a certain amount of leisure involved in the Greeting Ceremony; meetings held in the morning hours are always less restrained, and since the Sects were mingling for the first time after their arrival, the hierarchy had not quite been fully established. The dais in the receiving hall is only two steps above the floor, and the Emperor’s chair only slightly more elaborate than a Sect Leader’s seat.

The banquet, held in the grand hall of the Jade Sword Palace, is as different from the Greeting Ceremony as night from day. It is all excess and extravagance, a shameless exhibition of every Sect’s standing and riches. In such an environment, the Emperor must be unmatched in his magnificence, so none forget that only He sits directly below the Heavens, that His brilliance cannot be reached by ordinary human means.

WangJi has to remind himself that everything about Wei WuXian is intended to produce the intimidation he feels. The dais is set a dozen steps above the hall floor, so all who want to see the Emperor must crane their necks. The golden throne, its back portraying two dragons entwining, is as tall as two men, and wide enough to sit five of them, side by side. WangJi knows that he is meant to feel small facing such a display of power.

“Second Young Master Lan,” the Emperor says, and gestures vaguely to the seat Nie HuaiSang had vacated.

For the second time in as many days, WangJi suspects that the Emperor means to play a joke at his expense. And for the second time, he obeys nonetheless, steeling himself for whatever may come.

The cushion he settles down on is remarkably comfortable, and he only needs to tilt his head slightly to meet the Emperor’s eyes. This does nothing to calm his disquiet. He is certain that the Emperor has not requested his attendance as a means to bestow a favor, but no one else knows the circumstances of their first meeting. WangJi feels every gaze in the hall burning into his skin, each filled with malice.

Had he truly thought himself accustomed to animosity before?  

“Lan Zhan,” the Emperor says, drawing his attention, “Your composure is infuriating. Is this a family trait, or something that the Lan Sect teaches?”

WangJi finds himself speechless. His composure? He has never felt more discomposed in his life.

The Emperor’s voice is low, and does not carry. The expression on his face gives nothing away. But there is a glint in his eye, something that hints of mischief. It is small, unlikely to be perceived from distance, but WangJi feels that he may finally be looking at the youth from the rooftop. Instead of calming his nerves, however, this only makes him feel more unanchored.

“I suppose that was an unfair question,” Wei WuXian says, “Let us try another. I trust that you have kept our late night meeting to yourself?”

WangJi nods, even as he feels heat rising in his neck. Perhaps it is only the choice of words used, but Wei WuXian has made their meeting sound borderline lewd.

“Excellent. Do you know any poetry?”

He only realizes that he is gripping his sleeves when his fingers begin to cramp. Turning the question over in his mind does not make it any more comprehensible, nor does it provide him with the correct answer.

“Poetry, You Majesty?”

Wei WuXian smiles, “Never mind. I was only curious as to what would compel you to actually speak.”

The heat has lodged itself in WangJi’s throat, and he swallows around it heavily, wishing this audience would come to an end.

“Your uncle looks worried,” Wei WuXian says, “At least I now know how to crack his composure.”

WangJi’s gaze automatically sweeps across the hall, searching for the Gusu Lan robes.

The Emperor had not been exaggerating. It is daunting to see, after all the humiliations his uncle tolerates calmly, his equilibrium be shaken to such extent, that it is noticeable to the untrained eye. He looks as if he wants to storm the dais and forcibly remove WangJi from the Emperor’s side.

The heat in his throat so easily turns into anger these days, that he hardly notices when it happens.

What type of a ruler finds amusement in tormenting a respectable man? Has the Emperor not done enough damage already?

“Lan Zhan,” Wei WuXian says, his tone turning wary, “your face may be difficult to read, but I believe that you are upset with me.”

“This one would not dare,” WangJi answers, trying to infuse some humility into his voice, and failing miserably.

The Emperor actually snorts at that, “Your uncle would have never told me that Gusu needed assistance, had I not forced him to do so. Yes,” he waves his hand, “it was stupid of me, to praise his abilities in front of the others. The blame is on them, for looking so incompetent in comparison. But I needed them to hear how a capable Sect Leader handles a crisis, and your uncle is the only one whose answer I could be certain of in advance. It was not my intention to make your life more difficult.”

WangJi, who had been steadily avoiding the Emperor’s gaze, is too bewildered to do so now.

The surprise on his face must be obvious because the Emperor blinks at him, then leans away, his expression both amused and exasperated.

“He did not tell you about the meeting, did he? You assumed that I had.... what? Done something terrible? Insulted him? Publicly shamed him in front of the other Sect Leaders?”

Anger swiftly bleeding away, WangJi feels his face prickle with shame and confusion.

“Lan Zhan, is this what you think of me?”

Another this one has erred is on the tip of his tongue, but it feels equally as foolish as the first time he had said it. He cannot believe that he has blundered in his assumptions twice, both times in front of the most powerful man in the world, and with such disastrous results.

As no words will suffice, he turns to the Emperor, and places his forehead back to the floor. He is beginning to think that he should probably just stay in this position for the next six days. Perhaps then, he can stop failing his Sect at every turn.

The moment he feels the cool marble against his skin, a hand is wrapping around his upper arm, pulling him back up.

“Stop that,” Wei WuXian sounds even more exasperated now, “your uncle will leap across this hall and skewer me to the throne. He already dislikes me, and I am sure he thinks I am bullying you right now, which,” his lips twist, “maybe I was, a little bit. But it was not malicious.”

He releases WangJi’s arm but the imprint of his fingers seems to linger, an unfamiliar heat WangJi can feel even through two layers of cloth.

“Second Young Master Lan,” Wei WuXian says, his voice turning serious, “I swear on my mother’s memory that I mean no harm to you, or your Sect.”

Shocked into numbness for the second time in a matter of minutes, WangJi has no idea how to respond to such words, or if he even should respond. He has never felt so slow-witted, so utterly unfit in every respect.

He is his uncle’s best student, the most accomplished disciple of the Lan Sect. And yet, all he had managed to do is make himself appear ridiculous. Whatever the Emperor had expected from his company, Lan WangJi is clearly incapable of providing.

The silence goes on for some time, growing more uncomfortable by the moment, until Wei WuXian sighs heavily, and leans away.

“Every person in this hall would kill to be where you are, but I think you would rather be anywhere else.”

He does not give WangJi a chance to confirm or deny the words, waving his hand again in dismissal.

“You may go now.”

WangJi is not sure how he manages to rise, bow, or make his way down the steps without stumbling. The moment his feet leave the last step, his uncle is by his shoulder, wordlessly steering him away from the dais. The banquet is not over, and WangJi understands that leaving early may be seen as rude, especially in the view of the Emperor’s last rebuke. But when uncle leads them out of the hall, WangJi does not argue.

[onthesandsofdreams]

To Find a Bride

Fandom: ASoIaF Pairing: Fem!Ned x Rhaegar (Main), Male!Elia x Ashara, Fem!Jaime x Male!Lyanna (Side) Rating: T Summary: Rhaegar Targaryen is in need of a bride, what better place to find her than in the Tourney of Harrenhal. And as it happens, a certain Wolf-maid catches his eye and the more he knows her, the more he wants her. Words: 2435 Notes: Written for the @asoiafrarepairs‘s ‘A dream of Spring’ event. Day 7: Free Day | Fill a Prompt: Female!Ned Stark X Rhaegar Targaryen, Female!Jaime Lannister X Male!Lyanna Stark, Male!Elia Martell X Ashara Dayne. Tourney of Harrenhall, where Rhaegar has to decide who shall be his future Queen.

Read @ AO3

Rhaegar is tired. Exhausted really. But his father has given the order, and he must comply. He needs to decide who will be his bride. It’s not a decision he takes lightly, and it’s one that he must measure well.

“Brooding again, Rhaegar?”

Arthur. Rhaegar turns, “Wouldn’t you, if you were in my place?”

Arthur grins, “No, I can think of worst things to do, then choose a woman to wed.”

“Of course you would find this amusing.”

“Marry my sister then,” Arthur shrugs. “She would make a good wife, better Queen.”

At that, Rhaegar allows himself a tiny smile. “Have you missed the fact that Prince Elio Martell courts your sister already?”

“No,” Arthur sighs, dejected. “But it was just a suggestion. I know both Lannister ladies are not a good idea, unless you want to antagonize the King. And one of the Starks, it seems that Lady Cerelle has caught the eye of the second son of Lord Stark. But then again, nothing is set on stone as of yet.”

Rhaegar nods, it had not escaped his notice. After all, he needed to know about the possible ladies as much as possible. “Indeed. But I doubt Lord Tywin would approve, he’s either hoping that I or Viserys weds either daughter. And as you say, nothing is set in stone. I can only hope for the best.”

“Speaking of Starks… My sister speaks highly of Lady Eddara. Perhaps you could get to know her?”

Rhaegar frowns, somehow, Lady Stark has managed to somewhat slip out of his mind. A mistake that he needs to fix, apparently. “Perhaps that would be a good idea,” he agrees. “I have not seen her much.”

“She’s on the shy and quiet side of things, I’m told.” Arthur gives him a pointed look. “Perhaps an invitation is in order?”

“Yes, I could speak with Lady Stark.”

“Then, I shall arrange it, but as a forewarning, she does have three brothers. And her older brother, Lord Brandon is on the protective side.”

“My thanks Arthur, and I will heed your warning.”

“Good.”

*****

Rhaegar meets Lady Eddara Stark after they have broken their fasts. Arthur and Ashara trail behind, as escorts, for which he is grateful. They follow at a respectful distance, not too far so they will be out of sight, but not close enough to eavesdrop on the conversation. And it seemed to be like Arthur was not wrong about her brothers, the three of them had been polite, but there was an edge to their words that spoke of retribution should anything happen upon their sister.

Rhaegar had no intention of hurting Lady Eddara, much less allow any harm to come to her. Eddara curtseys, greets him with a small smile, one he returns. Her eyes are deep grey, like smoke from a pyre. She’s tall, taller than other women, her hair falls mostly freely from her hair, only some pieces hold it away from her face. And her face is solemn, large and solemn. And he sees a part of himself reflected on her face.

“Have you ever visited the Riverlands before, my Lady?” Rhaegar asks. It’s a good way to start a conversation.

“I have,” Eddara replies. “I visited with Lord Hoster Tully, I wanted to meet Lady Catelyn, so my father arranged it.”

“Ah, yes, Lady Tully is promised to your brother, is that correct?”

“Aye my Prince, she is to marry Brandon soon. We will depart Harrenhal for Riverrun, in fact. We are looking forward to the wedding.”

“Then I shall endeavour to wish your lord brother good wishes on his upcoming marriage. But, tell me about yourself Lady Stark. I confess that I know little of the North, and whatever little I know, I know because of my uncle Aemon.”

Eddara smiles at him. “It shall please both Brandon and Catelyn, I think.” She dims a little. “I am not very interesting my Prince. Life in the North is not as full as excitement as I imagine life in King’s Landing is. But if you insist, then I shall tell you.”

“I do insist, my curiosity has been sparkled.”

“I read my Prince, I manage Winterfell. Have done so since my mother passed, take care of our people and my brothers. Help my father as best I can. I play the violin, I can’t sing, I’m sorry to say that I’m not a good dancer either.”

Rhaegar’s curiosity grows as he watches her talk, her serious face lights up when speaking about her life and her family. “What books do you enjoy, my Lady? I myself am quite the reader.” He frowns. “Though some dislike it.”

“It’s better to be a well read King than not, my Prince,” Eddara’s voice is quiet, barely above a whisper. “And I enjoy poems, history and legends.”

Rhaegar’s head snaps towards her after her first words. That is a dangerous thing to say, he knows. “Perhaps so,” he matches her tone. “Poetry is a noble pursuit,” this time his voice returns to a normal tone. “And history must be learned, I do admit to liking the legends myself.”

Eddara gives him a tiny smile. “I have always thought that legends must have a smidge of truth, do you not think so, my Prince? Else, how could they come to be?”

Intriguing, Eddara Stark is intriguing. “Indeed.”

*****

Rhaegar himself is not much of a dancer, he dances because he must. So he walks towards Lady Ashara and requests a dance, she curtseys and obliques, but he does not miss the baleful glare both Martell princes send his way. Elio and Oberyn are twins in all but birthwater, it would do ill to antagonize them, but, he must on this occasion.

Lady Ashara is sweet and kind, regales him with tales of Dorne and of her and Arthur’s childhood, she praises his singing and he thanks her. They continue to speak while they dance, and when the music stops he bows and returns her towards her table.

Rhaegar also dances with Lady Cerelle Lannister, earning a glare from Lyan Stark. Cerelle continues to look back, almost as if she were looking for her sister. Lady Cersei’s face is smiling, but it does not reach her eyes.

Then, Rhaegar dances with Lady Cersei and she preens. He pretends not to notice, Lady Cersei sings his praises, carries herself with pride, but he dislikes the edge of smugness that hides in her voice. The song ends and he returns her to her table, Lady Cersei is almost reluctant to let go.

Lastly, Rhaegar requests a dance from Lady Eddara, she bows and takes his offered hand. “I must warn you my Prince,” Eddara says. “I am not the best dancer, so I beg your forgiveness in advance should I step on you.”

Rhaegar shakes his head. “Forgiveness is not necessary, my Lady. Accidents happen, but I am told I am a good dancer, perhaps I could teach you.”

“Then, I’d be honored to have such an excellent tutor.”

The music starts again and Rhaegar begins to lead, “Tell me my lady, what was it like to grow with brothers?”

Eddara’s face lightens and her eyes sparkle. “They were terrors my Prince. Absolute terrors, but I love them dearly, I can’t imagine my life without them. Once they decided to band against me, I was pelted with snowballs. Fortunately, some of our men got in and helped me to pay them back in turn.”

At the end of Eddara’s tale, there is laughter in her voice and Rhaegar finds that he likes the sound. He wishes he could hear her laugh out loud. “That seems hardly fair, three against one.”

“It wasn’t,” Eddara replies, laughter making her eyes sparkle. “But the reprimand that they got from our father was worth the cold.”

“Then I am glad. And see my Lady, you are dancing quite well.”

Eddara blushes. “Perhaps because my Prince leads so well.”

At the end of the song, Rhaegar finds himself reluctant to let her go.

But sees Lady Cerelle dancing with Lord Lyan Stark. And Ashara Dayne has not parted with Prince Elio. Things were interesting now.

*****

Rhaegar’s curiosity about Eddara Stark has only grown. He sees glimpses of an iron hidden underneath a calm exterior, she might lack her brothers fire, but her intellect more than makes up for it. And he knows because he has been able to speak with her more, he will admit to go out of his way to do so. He has no regrets. And at her insistence, he calls her Eddara. Ned doesn’t suit her much, even if she insists she doesn’t mind.

Once, full of curiosity, Rhaegar asked, “What would you do, Lady Eddara if two of your bannermen were arguing and wanted your judgement?”

Eddara looks at him, then blink surprised. She doesn’t answer immediately, instead she thinks for a moment. Rhaegar doesn’t rush her. “Well,” Eddara starts. “I might travel to the lords, but I would take a pair of servants with me.”

“And why is that?”

“Lords can twist words, say something that is not true. But servants talk to each other, and the Lords tend to ignore them, so I would have my servants listen and talk, hear what has been said on both sides of the issue and then make my judgement.”

Rhaegar is impressed. “Cleverly thought, Eddara.”

“Thank you my Prince.” Eddara blushes. “I try to learn from my lord father. He has taught us all, even me.”

“Then Lord Stark is a better man than most.”

*****

“Tell me about your Godswoods Eddara, I have never seen one as grand as Winterfell’s sound to be.”

“It’s quite big, my Prince.” No matter how hard Rhaegar has tried, he has not managed to make her call him Rhaegar. It’s her manners, he knows. But it’s vexing. “The Heart Tree is large, unlike any other here in the South, it’s face carved and almost sorrowful, the red sap gives it a gnarly air, but I like it. The woods are dark and there is a pond near the Tree, there’s a certain something there I can’t quite place. It almost feels like magic, truly it’s… magnificent.”

The ends of Rhaegar’s lips curl upwards. It’s always quite pleasant hearing Eddara speak of Winterfell, the North and her family. She truly comes alive during those particular topics. “Lord Brandon said it was grand, but you make me want to see it.”

“Perhaps one day my Prince will visit Winterfell, I shall endeavour to show the Godswoods to you.”

“Perhaps one day, Eddara, perhaps one day.”

*****

“Have you made up your mind?” Arthur asks one eve, after they have retired. “Because you seem quite taken with Lady Stark.”

“She’s different.”

“Different good?”

“Quite.” Rhaegar answers easily. “She’s quite… something. I like her.”

“I know,” Arthur says, a smug look to his face. “And people have noticed. Yes, you have danced and spoken to several ladies, and yet, you seek Lady Stark outside of formal obligations.” 

“She’s head and shoulder above all others.”

“Then it sounds like you’ve made up your mind Rhaegar. Oh Lord Tywin will be displeased. And so will Lady Cersei.”

Rhaegar’s mouth twitches. “They will indeed. But it seems that Lady Cerella is quite taken with Lord Lyan.”

“Indeed. They seem inseparable.”

“Lord Tywin will be most displeased.”

Rhaegar resists the urge to laugh. 

******

Rhaegar dons his armor for the joust. Prize in mind, he squares his shoulders and readies himself. He’s got a lot of competition to win if he’s to crown Eddara.

One by one, his opponents fall. Each one drawing him closer to victory. Until only Brandon Stark and Ser Barristan are left. Brandon falls easily enough, Ser Barristan is harder to beat, but in the end, he triumphs. Waves to the cheering crowd and takes the crown of blue roses. 

Rhaegar can almost hear everyone hold their breaths.

And Rhaegar looks for Eddara, finds her sitting next to Brandon and Lyan, close enough to the arena that should not be a problem for him to give her the crown. He spurs his horse forward until he’s standing in front of Eddara. “My Lady,” he says as he offers the crown. “For you.”

Eddara blushes fiercely, but takes the crown. “You honor me, my Prince.”

Rhaegar ignores the glares he’s getting from both Brandon and Lyan, and simply smiles at Eddara, “Not half of what you deserve.”

*****

“With respect, your Grace,” Brandon’s voice is cold. “What exactly do you intend with my sister?”

Rhaegar should be offended, but he isn’t. He’s been expecting this. “To ask your Lord father for her hand in marriage.”

Brandon is left speechless. His eyes widen and his mouth falls open. Moves his lips but no words come forward. “I - well.”

Rhaegar bites down a smile. It’s almost hard to believe how easy smiles come to him now, especially when it comes to Eddara. “I mean that Lord Stark. The King has graciously granted me the leave to pick my bride. And I have chosen your sister. I sent a raven to your father two days ago.”

“If that’s the case,” Brandon pulls himself up to his full height. “Then, allow me to be an elder brother and say this: If you hurt her, you deal with me.”

“Then, rest assured that I will not do so.”

“I’ll hold you to that, your Grace.”

“I expect nothing less.”

*****

Rhaegar hears from Arthur that Elio is formally courting Ashara now. And he knows that Lyan has written to his father about Cerelle’s hand. He wishes both couples luck, to Elio and Ashara to their faces. To Lyan and Cerelle in his head.

*****

Before they have to part ways, Rhaegar makes sure to speak with Eddara once more. “I have already sent a letter to your lord father, and the King. If they agree, our betrothal will be announced soon.”

Eddara, nods solemn. “Then I hope all goes well.”

Rhaegar squeezes her hand, “Do not fear, Eddara, I doubt my father would have an objection. And I would think that Lord Stark would at least consider it.”

*****

Three weeks after Brandon and Catelyn’s wedding, Eddara is summoned to King’s Landing. Rhaegar goes and receives her, drawing her into his arms. Around them, the commons whisper, he finds that he does not care.

Lady Eddara Stark is received with all the honors she deserves. And the night of her arrival, during the feast, King Aerys announces their betrothal. Rhaegar kisses his bride-to-be softly, and smiles at her blush.

Around them, people cheer.

[ngame989]

“Onward” - TGG SVTFOE Fanfic Collection Ch. 7

Writing: @ngame989​​​

Art: @toxicpsychox​​​

Editing: @toxicpsychox​​​, @seddm​​​, an IRL friend

Alternate fic links - FFnet, AO3

Summary: Bloodlines clash over the past on the first anniversary of the Cleaving, while Star, Marco, and others try to focus on looking forward.

Comic Page

Masterpost

Sorry for the big delay. In the meantime, we did a pretty massive in-character RPish Q&A session taking place in the time of the fanfic collection storyline just before this chapter, so check that out here! Post-summer schedules are settling in now, so hopefully we can get back on track for regular updates. See below for the text, hope you enjoy!

“Think we should head back downstairs soon?”

Star poked her head out from the closet to find Marco had taken his hoodie off and spread himself akimbo on their bed, breathing heavily with his eyes closed. “We probably should,” she admitted, turning the swords she held in her hands over a few times. Her own blade was relatively simple compared to the ornate craft of Marco’s falchion, the Cleaver. That name seemed especially fitting now, since it was exactly one year ago today that their new world was created. She carefully set them against the wall, still in their protective sheaths. “Ooooor we could just use my messiness as an excuse for why it took us extra long to find these!” she drawled out dramatically, giving Marco a sly grin. He finally tilted his head towards her and opened his eyes, treating her to his soft warm gaze while she kicked off her tennis shoes and adjusted her old sky-blue dress. Their day had begun only a few hours ago, yet she was already feeling drained, and his slight wince when she dropped onto the mattress, reclining against a wall of pillows suggested he mirrored her sentiment. “You OK?”

“If your uncle’s hug didn’t break something, your aunt’s sure did,” Marco mumbled, testing his joints for injury with a grimace before scooting himself further towards her and dropping his head into her lap. Normally she’d be all for the rowdy family party going on right under their feet, but today felt like it should be their day too. Earthni was a wonderful place for sure, but today was the anniversary of so much more for her. The perfect bliss of loving Marco, the terror of losing Marco, the overwhelming sadness of missing Marco, the enrapturing contentment after reuniting with Marco...

“Marco, Marco, Marco…” she singsonged, thoughts leaking out into words. Her left hand caressed his cheek while she tangled the fingers of her right in his hair; he closed his eyes and nuzzled further into her contentedly. Her smile grew all the wider as she upped the ante, squishing his cheek and poking his mole then finally honking his nose. After a few moments of trying his best to ignore it he started lazily swatting her hands away, but she persisted nonetheless. This adorable face was hers for the booping, dangit!

“Star.” His tone was firm, but she knew better than to assume he meant it.

“Yes?” she innocently crooned.

He caught her wrists and held them away from him. “What are you doing?”

“Having fun, silly.” She wriggled free and got a sneak attack in, pinching both cheeks at once. When he went in for the counter, she pulled back so quickly that he slapped himself, causing Star to fall backwards onto the pillow clutching her sides and laughing. Marco lifted himself off of her and onto his knees, and she caught only a glimpse of his cocky smirk before he dove forward, pinning both her arms above her. “Oh no! You got me, Diaz! I am at your mercy. Whatever shall I do?” Try as she might to keep up the mock damsel in distress act, she failed to suppress her giggles. Only a second later, he released her hands and planted a quick kiss on her lips before resting his head on her shoulder. Her arms wrapped tightly around him. When she’d made the fateful decision to risk leaving everything else behind for Marco, this was why, this was what she couldn’t see herself living without.

“Star… ow…” Her grip slackened and he wheezed in relief. “You definitely… got that… from your dad’s side of the family.”

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly.

“Hello, dears.” Eclipsa’s voice rang from the doorway, catching them both off-guard. Marco yelped and rolled off of Star, flopping to the floor with a thud. “Don’t mind me, I was just sent up to see if you two were ready for your demonstration. I must say, everyone seems quite excited for it.”

“Oh heeeeeey, there’s the swords!” Star pointed with a totally convincing shocked expression. “Silly Marco, I told you they wouldn’t be under the mattress!”

Eclipsa laughed heartily enough to make the light purple hem of her summer dress sway around her. “There’s no need for excuses, dears. In my younger days, I would have killed to have Globby with me at even a single family outing. I’m not one to tattle on the tomfoolery of love. You should probably go, though, before any more Butterfly-Johansen friction spills over.”

“Uuuuugh,” Star groaned. Things had been pretty civil amongst all the various interdimensional families thus far, but she’d known it was only a matter of time before something happened. When she was a kid it was fun watching everyone punch each other off cliffs to vent their frustrations, but now it just seemed petty and pointless to her. Had they learned nothing from everything that happened? She helped Marco off the ground then grabbed their weapons for the exhibition spar that all their guests were apparently anticipating. He slid into his hoodie while she slipped back into her shoes, then they closed the door behind them and descended the stairs.

The Diaz living room was largely occupied by the Butterflies for the time being, while Star could hear the characteristic Johansen ruckus from the backyard. Wouldn’t it be nice if they could all just get along forever? Probably, but she could scarcely fathom how that might ever happen. She glanced around to find her mom trapped in conversation with Great-Aunt Etheria in the kitchen. Despite wearing more casual clothing, Mom was in total “queen” mode right now, politely tut-tutting at all of Etheria’s observations. Maybe that wasn’t the best term for it, but it was how Star had known her mother most of the time growing up. However, there was still no mistaking the strain in her expression: even the Queen Moon of her childhood couldn’t put up with Etheria for long, and Star had no idea how the mom she’d gotten to know in recent years could handle it for more than half a minute. When Etheria noticed Star’s presence and strutted towards the stairs, Star could see her mother breathe a slight sigh of relief before following.

“Ah, dearie, there you are. Come, come, let me see this magnificent blade I’ve heard so much about.” Eclipsa held it up, but the eldest Butterfly snatched it from her grip without even a glance before running her fingers all over the blade. “Fine craftsmanship, indeed… where did you get such a thing? I must commission the maker for a new display.”

“It was actually Buff Frog who recommended me an old friend of his, she’s really cool. She does experimental art with molten metal that’s really pretty-”

“Ah. Hmmph.” The woman handed the sword back to Star tersely. “Well, it is well-made, I’ll give it that.”

“Speaking of artistry,” Moon chimed in before Star could respond, “weren’t you saying something about Marco’s parents, Aunt Etheria?” Star and Marco glanced at each other anxiously.

The large woman perked up, scorn diminishing in an instant. “Oh yes, they’re wonderful. A poet and a sculptor, how splendid! It’s positively delightful to see such devotion to the most noble of endeavors. The graceful wielding of a blade or a brush are signs of a good temperament. I’m glad at least your family can appreciate the finer, more delicate things in life, boy.” Star cringed a bit, and out of the corner of her eye she could see Marco doing the same, but the tension she didn’t even know she had in her shoulders dropped. Despite the tone, it was nice that Marco was being accepted, but… yeesh. “Let’s get on with this display, shall we?” The group headed outside where the Diazes had taken advantage of their spacious backyard.

Star instinctively shielded her eyes with one arm, blocking out the blinding light of the sun. Two poles held a banner up above a table loaded with all kinds of meats and vegetables. ‘Butterfly-Johansen (and Diaz) Annual Picnic’. Marco’s parents had resisted inserting themselves for long enough that Star had scrawled the addition on herself. They were hosting the freaking thing, why shouldn’t they be an official part of it? The Butterflies who had followed them outside were audibly scoffing at the various Johansen men and women sweeping up armfuls of meats and jamming them into extra large tortillas that were still far too small for the task. Finally she found her dad, who was guiding cousin Rock through the various foods that had become a staple of his diet, and when he noticed her in kind he skipped over. “Star, honey, there you are! And Marco, my boy, tell me: did you have your first encounter with Grandpappy Bear? The man with the grey beard down past his knees?” Marco nodded at the clarification.

“Ha! My father used to tell me stories of how he’d vanquish foes by opening his arms to feign surrender. Many great men and women fell right for it- went for the hug and had the life squeezed right out of them!” His eyes narrowed intensely, getting right in Marco’s face, and Marco’s nose ruffled at the wild beard hairs.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Marco dryly responded. “My everything hurts.”

“Nonsense, lad. If you’re even still standing, you’ve done better than most! It’s like you’re part of the family already.” He clapped Marco on the back with a joyous laugh, and Star grabbed onto her boyfriend’s arm to keep him steady on his feet.

“Try not to break the boy,” Etheria sneered from the doorway behind them, joined by a few of Star’s aunts and uncles.

“They are quite talented at breaking things,” Heartrude murmured low enough that anyone farther away than Star probably wouldn’t hear.

“Aye, we’re just having fun with ‘em,” Aunt Crag hollered back. “From what Rivey tells me, he’s gonna be an honorary Johansen soon enough!”

Daaaaaaad. Star tried to bury the rising heat in her cheeks. While her brain was still putting itself back together, Marco had jumped between them with a nervous grin on his face. “So, swordfighting, huh? What’s the deal with that?”

“Yes, I suppose some entertainment is in order,” Etheria sighed. “Are you quite sure that we can’t stage a rousing game of Flags, Moon? After the last few cancellations due to…” Her gaze flickered to Eclipsa and Globgor briefly. “Circumstances on Mewni, and now the Butterfly Kingdom being dissolved altogether, I dare say some stress relief might do us all some good.”

“Hear, hear,” the Butterflies behind her chanted. Even a few Johansens were mumbling their assent, though they’d never be forthright with their agreement with the eldest Butterfly.

“Be that as it may,” Moon spoke up, “my decision still stands. If there’s anything I’ve learned these past few years, it’s the value of letting go of the past if it’s holding you back, and Flags, fun as it may be, just kept this feud going. We have our whole lives ahead of us. Perhaps it’s best if we can all learn to find that which binds us together.”

“She’s right,” one of the Johansen cousins added. Phew. Finally, maybe people were starting to see the sense in- “Since we don’t have to bother with politics anymore, maybe we just shouldn’t put up with them!” Oh for the love of- calm down, Star. Deep breaths. Though she tried to ignore it, a tiny voice in the back of her mind pondered those words carefully. Why were they trying to make the families get along? Sure, it’d be nice for its own sake, but it wasn’t like her parents were BFFs with any of their in-laws, either. Maybe it was selfish to think, but what did they get out of it?

As the tensions mounted more by the second, Star felt something prodding her clenched fists. She looked over her shoulder to see Eclipsa surreptitiously handing over her sword, while Marco already had been given his. Star took the hint. Too late to turn back now.

“EN GARDE, MARCO!”

***

To anyone else, the sun being blocked out completely in the middle of a summer afternoon would have been alarming, but for Eclipsa it was a most welcome sign. “Having fun, my love?” a deep voice boomed above her.

Globgor shrunk down to smaller than his default size, his form-fitting sweater vest and pants scaling appropriately, and dropped down on the grass next to his wife to hand her a cup of tea. She took a test sip: black, with milk and a generous serving of honey. He only ever put that much in when he thought there was something bothering her, and as always, he was correct. “I get the unfortunate feeling we’re not quite welcome among some of the clan, Globby. Especially those on our side. The Johansens seem quite fond of you, though.”

“Ehhhh.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re right, they’re definitely nice in their own way, but I think it’s only because I’m strong. They kept laughing about eating people, and said maybe Etheria would be a gourmet meal.”

“Well, that is a perfectly acceptable reason to like you, dear,” she crooned, placing her free hand on his arm. “But yes, that is… troubling.” It didn’t surprise her, really; it had taken her nearly a year to find her place within the small portion of the Butterfly family consisting of just Star and Moon. Eclipsa had accepted being an outcast from the remainder of it, given her supreme infamy in Mewnian lore, but it wasn’t in her nature to sulk, and in all fairness it had been a good year for them. Perhaps she hadn’t been the best at guiding her people safely through dangerous times, but she still had earned respect and camaraderie from much of Monstertown. Rebuilding the town after Mina’s destructive rampage had been a satisfying effort, and she still had far more time to enjoy the company of her family than she ever could have dreamed.

Taking another soothing sip, her gaze wandered over to the only other people she knew that needed this time to be together as much as she had. Star’s combat style was fierce, unrelenting chaos guided by warrior’s instinct, but Marco balanced it perfectly with a keen eye for when to defend and when to counter. Eclipsa had guessed where they’d end up from quite literally the first moment she’d met Star, and where they complemented each other perfectly as a team, they were equally matched as opponents. The shimmering steel clanged over and over, neither combatant spending more than a handful of seconds on the backfoot at a time. Marco deftly ducked under a ferocious two-handed swing and jabbed forward, so Star rolled with her momentum to dash backwards. She was about to back into a cactus behind her when Marco kicked off the ground and lunged towards her, grabbing her free hand and twirling her to the side, eliciting hoots and hollers from the enthralled crowd. They both giggled before squaring their stances, and combat resumed.

“They’re quite extraordinary, aren’t they?” Eclipsa turned away from the match in progress at the sound of Moon’s voice. Globgor extended an enlarged arm towards a chair leaning against a picnic table and dragged it over for her.

“They’ve both turned out to be some of the best of us. Even with all my strongest magic, I wouldn’t want to get between them. It looks like they could keep this up forever.”

Moon raised an eyebrow and folded her hands in her lap, sipping from a mug with an ornate floral pattern. Royal status or not, Moon had a taste for the finer things. “I wasn’t talking about the swordfight, Eclipsa.”

“Nor was I.” Eclipsa playfully smirked, and Moon conceded the point with the two sharing a knowing look.

Globgor shrunk and hopped onto Eclipsa’s shoulder, gathering some of her flowing green hair with his tail as a headrest and reclining into her neck. “Wouldn’t it have been nice to be like that at their age? We only ever had minutes at a time to ourselves, and it’s not like we could just use giant mirrors or big glowy portals to chat whenever we wanted.”

“True enough, my love, but Star had been devoting everything to keeping an entire kingdom afloat at age 15 for half a year, and Marco’s own service merited knighthood in less. Even if we debate the details, I’m not sure I envy them.” She gently ruffled his hair with her fingers. “And besides, we’ve had the last year, and however many more follow to do whatever we wish.”

Globgor smiled back up at her, hugging one of her fingers. “You’re right, dear. Oh Moon, that reminds me, how are those big plans you mentioned a few weeks ago?”

Moon crossed her arms, frowning slightly. “It’s not anything that big yet. I’ve... just been gathering some information. Wrathmelior was quite helpful in finding Historia Homewnum for me, it’s older than the Butterflies themselves. I don’t even know what I’m going to do with it yet, but I want to talk to Star first.” She turned away from Eclipsa and Globgor, gazing with a solemn smile towards her daughter who was laughing hysterically as she chased Marco down and tackled him into the grass, weapons forgotten. “How we look back on Mewni requires guidance from those looking most forward.”

“How do you look back on it, Moon?”

Her brow furrowed as she took one sip, then another, clearly lost in thought. By the time she spoke, the entire glass had been drained. “I’m not proud of many of the things I did, or even those I felt I had to do, in my time as queen, but it’s a legacy left behind nonetheless. The people of this world deserve to know it as it was, sometimes noble and sometimes flawed.” A shout of “why I never!” was heard from the distance, and everyone turned to see one of the younger Butterfly cousins hastily retreating from an encounter with Johansens. “Very flawed,” Moon sighed. “The Johansens at least mean well, in their own ways, but my side… well, let’s just say it’s a good reminder of why the Cleaving was necessary. My apologies for any trouble they’ve caused.”

Eclipsa laughed sardonically. “Until quite literally hundreds of years after she perished, my own mother would have drawn and quartered me just for being in love. Family problems are nothing new.”

Globgor hopped off her shoulder, enlarging as he pointed across the spacious yard closer to Moon and River’s yurt, which had become a veritable house in recent months. “Is that River?” Eclipsa squinted to block out the sunlight and get a better view, and sure enough he was locked in a struggle with Heartrude, who was trying to wrestle a large drumstick out of River’s teeth.

“In all fairness, Moon, the Diazes are excellent chefs. I wouldn’t blame anyone for that level of passion over the catering,” Eclipsa sniggered.

“For heaven’s sake…” Moon grumbled while dragging her hands down her face. “River!” She darted off towards the scene, leaving Eclipsa and her husband alone once more.

A few of the others glanced over their way, but none responded. Globgor grew a little more and stretched his limbs before sprawling himself out on the ground, yelping sheepishly when his actions knocked the chairs over. That’s my Globby. Eclipsa giggled and jumped over the wreckage into his arms, using his chest as a pillow. They both loved their daughter more than anything, but time for just the two of them was always welcome. “There are certain advantages to not having much of an audience…” he said, chuckling and gently pulling her closer for a kiss. When she’d first started secretly dating monsters in her youth, the Mewman lore had maintained that size-shifters were clumsy oafs when large and insidious creeping vermin when small, and that was saying something since the pages written about the middle ground weren’t exactly flattering either. No matter his outward appearance, he always knew how to handle her with precision and grace, and they’d worked up a complete comfortability with the shifts in their daily lives. One of Globgor’s favorite amusements was trying to solve any mundane issue he could with only size-shifting, leading to some incidents such as the shelving unit they’d had to rebuild after he tried expanding in a confined space to reach some baking ingredients at the top, but it never failed to amuse her. They flirted in the grass until they’d lost count of the minutes, uncaring of who may have been looking at their innocent (by their standards) shenanigans, until the sunlight in the corner of Eclipsa’s eye went dark once more.

The moment that it took for Globgor to stop being distracted by her kisses lasted about as long as the time it took her to recognize that the usual cause of this was already beneath her, and both snapped to attention together. “Gotcha! Now we’re even-steven,” Star gloated.

All four eyes below her blinked a few times. “Um, it’s Globgor, not Steven.” The other three looked at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter. “What, what’s so funny?”

“Nothing, darling,” Eclipsa responded. They both stood up, brushing any stray grass marks off their clothing. “Excellent fight, dears, though I’m afraid I was too, ahem, preoccupied to catch the ending. Who won?”

“Star did,” Marco said.

She poked him in the cheek, beaming with pride and doing a little dance. “First time, too! I was like, swing, swing, slash and I did this really cool twirl and knocked it right out of Marco’s hands. I did it!”

He wrapped an arm around her affectionately, which also served to calm her antics. “I was off-balance from pulling you away from the cactus,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes.

“Love made you weak, Diaz, but I love you for it.” She nuzzled into his shoulder and he rested his head against hers. “Anyway, how are things going for you guys?” Star wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at them.

“The party is delightful. It’s so nice to get to celebrate with everyone, even if there’s the occasional spot of friction.” It wasn’t worth troubling Star and Marco over; this celebration was in service of them, in a way.

“The Butterflies don’t seem to like us too much, and I think the Johansens like us for not so great reasons,” Globgor ever so helpfully stated. Well, there goes that idea.

Star growled under her breath. “Why are they always like this? It seemed like things were turning around after the last Flags,” she moaned.

Marco shrugged his shoulders. “Eh, sometimes old grudges last a long time. I remember Uncle Miguel didn’t speak to his wife, Aunt Juanita, for 15 whole years because of a stolen enchilada. She’d even bought him one the next day, too. Probably explains why Cousin Bobby is a bit weird.”

Star puffed up her cheeks in indignation. “OK, I know this isn’t the point, Marco, but every story about your extended family just makes me want to meet them even more.”

“Maybe once the government sorts out all the passport stuff,” Marco said, “and maybe on their own, too. I’m glad your family likes my parents, but I’m, uh, not so sure how they would all get along.”

“Good to know.”

“Can’t you just eat like a well-behaved member of society!” The group heard from a distance away.

“I don’t want to be part of any society that has someone do the chewing for them!”

More and more Butterflies and Johansens clustered together in the center of the yard; it seemed like this whole debacle was about to reach critical mass. Eclipsa surveyed the scene carefully: Moon and River were trying ineffectually to calm it, and the Diazes watched from the sidelines, babies in tow. It seemed like they were the only ones left in action. Marco gathered them into a huddle, with Globgor shrinking down to the appropriate size. “Alright, how do we figure this out?”

“Families bicker sometimes, darling,” Eclipsa offered somberly. “Perhaps them getting along just isn’t meant to be.”

“I don’t get it, though! Okay, fine, they’re annoyed by each other, but who isn’t annoyed by family sometimes? Heck, even Marco grates on me when he says I should ‘eat less sugar’ and ‘eat something besides sugar’ and ‘stop pouring sugar into my soda until it becomes a thick paste’! Have you ever seen the nutrition labels on the Sugar Seeds you eat too?”

“Hey…” Marco pouted.

Globgor raised a hand. “Well, Star, healthy eating is an important-”

“Not the time!” she growled.

Marco squeezed her shoulder, which calmed her down enough for him to speak. “Well, when Uncle Miguel and Aunt Juanita’s feud finally ended, it was because his brother stole one of his enchiladas and then gave it back, so they made up really quickly. I guess that helped him realize he didn’t even know why he was still being so mean about it. So maybe if we just got them to realize their issues are normal…”

“They could just be annoyed by each other normally,” Star finished. “Marco, you brilliant man, you.”

Folding her hands in contemplation, Eclipsa finally spoke. “All well and good, but how? Even though my time was 300 years ago, I don’t think much has changed in just how stubborn any of these royal families can be. They’re not just going to give up hating each other so easily.”

Globgor’s tail swished up against her in excitement. “Remember when you helped me become a vegetarian?”

“Yes, of course.”

“For a while, I still thought about eating Mewmans every single day, so you made all those veggie-filled scarecrows for me to find. They weren’t that good.”

“Not my best work, I admit.”

“But being able to still have some way of scratching that itch was what helped the most, and now it’s not even a problem anymore!”

“So you’re saying we just need a way to still let out all their aggression without doing any serious damage, then. Globgor, you brilliant man, you.”

Rafael and Angie poked their heads in between Marco and Globgor. “If I may contribute a suggestion…” he said.

“Aaaa!” The other two couples stumbled back in shock.

“Sorry, we heard you from over there and we had an idea. You’re not that good at being quiet,” Angie laughed, ruffling Star’s hair.

“When I was growing up,” Rafael continued, “we used to always play silly games in the backyard and everyone got very competitive over it. I think I have some of the equipment still in the shed. Maybe a friendly competition is in order?”

“I love it!” Star shouted, her eyes lighting up with joy. She stuck her hand into the middle of the group, grinning fiercely at the gathered crowd. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s stop our families from killing each other over petty grudges. Globgor, lift all the equipment. Nachos can help too, she should be coming back from her afternoon stroll right about now. Mr. Diaz, set it all up. Eclipsa, Mrs. Diaz, plan the rules of the competition. Marco, let’s go try to distract my family. Team Family on three!” Regardless of whether it would work, Eclipsa felt quite enthusiastic about this as well. She couldn’t say whether it would work, or how it might impact her own standing within the group, but the simple fact that there even seemed to be a chance to set things in the right direction for Star’s family at all was far more than she’d ever had the chance to do in her past.

“Alright, on three,” Eclipsa said, leading the charge. “One, two, three, family!”

***

Marco followed Star across the yard, needing to jog to keep up as she pulled him forward by the hand into the center of the ruckus. Moon and River had their backs to each other as they tried to keep the seething rage from either side at bay, but a few people had already crossed the battle lines and an all-out brawl was beginning to erupt.

“Don’t worry Mom and Dad, we got this,” Star confidently shouted over the din. Admittedly, Marco was a bit less certain than she was that this would work. He was the odd one out in terms of his upbringing, and Star’s families honestly spooked him a little bit with their intensity. The Diazes were quirky, sure, but like most other things on Mewni, this whole situation just seemed amped up to 11 all the time. Still, he wanted to see it through for Star’s sake, if nothing else. So much of what they’d gone through was due in some way or another to family disputes, it was very clearly a personal affront to her. “Alright, everyone, settle down!” Didn’t work. “Butterflies! Johansens! Could you please just stop-” Even at the top of her lungs, nothing changed.

River pushed her back a step. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ve got this.” He inhaled enough air that his bare chest visibly expanded. “QUIETTTTTTTTTTT!” Dead silence hung in the wake as every member of the families turned their full attention towards Star, Marco, and her parents. One Johnasen even paused mid-headlock of Heartrude. “Listen to my daughter speak!”

“Thanks dad. Hello, everyone!”

“Hello, Star,” the crowd mumbled hesitantly.

“Butterflies, Johansens, I know you both have your differences. I know that nothing I’m going to say will make you just get along forever. But I have a question for you. Uncle Heartrude, you hate the Johansens for how they eat, but haven’t you ever been annoyed whenever Uncle Jimothy uses salad forks for meat?”

“Well, yes, but I don’t see how-”

Star pointed directly at one of her larger cousins, and even just a sideways look at the fire in her sapphire eyes inspired him as well. “And Boulder, didn’t you once say Rock was a snooty little pebble for waxing his shoulder-horns twice a day?”

“Aye, I did.” His thick brow furrowed and his voice came out a bit muffled from behind his enormous brown beard.

“But you still love each other like brothers, so why are you still trying to break Heartrude’s leg right now?”

“Oi, I guess I am,” he said, letting go of Heartrude’s leg. “Sorry about that.”

Star squeezed Marco’s hand in hers hard enough that he could feel her pulse beating rapidly in exhilaration.

“So sure, we all get mad sometimes. But instead of trying to kill each other over it, let’s just settle it like we would any regular family feud. With friendly, non-lethal competitive fun!”

River tapped her on the shoulder. “Um, sometimes the Johansens do actually settle them by-”

“Not now, Dad,” she forced out through gritted teeth.

“Right-o, dear.” He quickly hustled back to Moon, who was watching with a proud but cautious smile.

Etheria shoved her way through the crowd and confronted Star face to face. “That may all be well and true, but the Johansens spoiled our royal bloodline-”

“That was my own choice, thank you very much, Aunt Etheria,” Moon huffed, hugging River closer to her.

“Besides, I’m proud to be a Butterfly and a Johansen,” Star continued. “And so what if it’s not what you wanted for the ‘royal bloodline’? Earthni to Etheria, we’re not even royals anymore! Who cares about some stupid bloodline when my mom was able to actually be happy?"

“Traditions are important, child. Now, I’ll grant you that we no longer hold claim to a royal throne, but neither do you, so why should we listen to you anymore?” A few murmurs were heard among the Butterflies and Johansens both. How ironic that the first time all day they could agree on something was on their right to hate each other.

“Because… because…” Star floundered for the first time in her speech. Her hand trembled in Marco’s, and the Star he knew and loved wouldn’t have faltered until hope seemed almost completely lost. He had to do something. Think, Marco, think… the Johansens respected might, the Butterflies respected prestige, what did any of them have that could appease both? They were so upset about Flags being cancelled in the first place because both wanted its bragging rights so badly. Wait… that’s it!

Alright Diaz, you got this. Marco stood tall and squeezed Star’s hand back to let her know it was OK. “Because I, Marco Ubaldo Diaz, am the reigning Flags champion, and I say to do what Star says!”

“Marco, what the horse-flipping heck-” Star wheeled on him incredulously, but he quickly turned her back towards the crowds. Their gazes roved over the faces in the crowd. All of the fight had left them. His gambit had worked.

“Huh,” Star uttered matter-of-factly, still in shock. “What would I do without you, Marco?” she whispered to him under her breath, and his heart fluttered as it always did. “Alright, listen up, people! This isn’t about epic conflicts or generational feuds. You’ve got a problem with someone? Challenge them to a short, safe, and fun game to settle that score. Marco’s parents and Eclipsa and Globgor are in charge of the event planning. They’ll help you set everything up. May the best person at resolving all their conflicts win! Welcome to the first annual...”

“Game of Yards!” Star and Marco triumphantly shouted in unison.

“Remember to have fun!” Star shouted before tugging Marco’s hand away once more, but she steered them away from his parents and then further away from the entire party.

“Um, Star, what are you- where are we going?”

“Can we talk about something? I need to get away for, like five seconds.” Marco hadn’t heard her sound that exasperated in a while.

“Yeah, of course, let’s decompress. Anywhere special you wanted to go?”

Her gaze frantically darted around them. She’d taken them back towards the forest, near the edge of the territory their parents had acquired. “I don’t know, I just kinda walked. How about there?” she asked, pointing to a small hill in a clearing, covered by the shade of some Mewnian oak trees (thankfully, the benign sort). Marco nodded, and they both went over found a suitable spot.

“What’s on your mind?”

Star shifted restlessly after sitting on her legs. He tried to convey as much support as he could through the gentle caress of her hand laced with his. Even from hours after they’d met, he’d always been ready to be right beside her when she needed, and that resolve had only strengthened as the years went by. Once she’d gathered her thoughts, she began to speak. “Who am I, Marco?”

Of the many ways he’d thought this conversation could open, this wasn’t exactly one of them. “Huh?” was all he could mutter.

“It’s just… Etheria’s right. I’m not a princess anymore, and when all that went down I just wanted to be a normal teenager, but I’m not gonna be a teenager forever either, you know?”

“I understand.”

“Yeah, but when you turned down Eclipsa’s knighthood, already had a plan for stuff you wanted to do. Didn’t you say you wanted to go to college and all that junk? You can do that now since you finished high school, right?”

“Mhmm.” Marco fell back onto the grass, resting both his arms on his chest and staring up into the clear purple sky. “I- I guess I haven’t thought about it much since then, either. Mom told me that the college she teaches at was still taking students, and it’s still really close to home, and- and I thought about signing up but I wasn’t sure.”

She plopped down beside him, rolling over to face him and taking one of his hands in hers. “You should! Marco, whatever you want to do, you’ll be amazing at it because you’re Marco Diaz, and I’ll be right there every step of the way.”

“Thanks, Star.”

“I never had anything like that. I didn’t think about it too much when I was a kid, and then I was gonna be a queen because, well, that’s what princesses did. And then the first moment that I seriously got to thinking about what I wanted, kablam-o! Solarian warriors attack, magic’s gone, and Earth and Mewni merge. Once the craziness finally stopped, all I could think about was being with you. Don’t get me wrong, the past year just being with you and doing whatever we want has been incredible, but now I just need to figure out what else is out there for Star Butterfly, and honestly...” She squirmed uncomfortably and scooted closer into him, resting her head on his chest. “I’m scared, Marco. I know I need to ‘find my calling’, or whatever Mr. Candle might call it, but I have no idea how, and I don’t want to lose this either.” Her arms buried underneath him and held him closely. There was a bit of dampness that Marco could feel seeping its way into his hoodie, and that caused a few empathetic tears to well up in his own eyes.

He brushed them away with a sleeve and then hugged her tighter to him, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “We won’t, Star. Ever. Even if it takes a year, or ten, or a hundred years, or even if you never find some perfect job you want to do forever and ever, that’s fine! As long as you’re happy and fulfilled, that’s all that matters, and I’ll do whatever I can to help. Promise.” They rested in silence for a few moments, holding each other closely as thoughts of potential futures whirred in Marco’s mind.

Her chin lifted up and dug into his chest as she stared at him. “Any ideas?” Those Earth-sky-blue eyes that had filled him with a sense of purpose for so long now implored him to return the favor.

“Well, you’re not a princess anymore, but… maybe the stuff you liked doing as a princess could help? You’re a natural leader, you inspire people to be better than themselves, you worked so hard to make Mewni a better place.”

“Marcoooooo,” she crooned, and he lovingly pecked the blushes rising on both of her cheeks.

“For real, Star, you’re the coolest person ever, you could do whatever you put your mind to. Not long after we first met, you were terrified of all the princess duties, and you ended up figuring out how to do them the Star Butterfly way. Just remove the ‘princess’ part of it, and figure out whatever else you’re gonna do the Star Butterfly way.”

A teasing smirk rose on her face. “Weeeeell, I can think of at least one thing, mister…” she booped his nose with hers, and it was his turn for a fiery blush to arise. “You’re so cute to tease. Have you ever thought about what would happen if none of it happened? Like, if I never stopped being a princess and then I had to be queen someday.”

“A little? That whole year on Mewni was kinda a bit weird and all, with the squiring, and…” His voice dropped to a mumble. “Figuring out how I felt about you.”

“Right back atcha, there. But what if we’d still done all that, just without completely changing the world?”

“Being a knight would have been really cool, I guess, but the whole Lifelong Post thing… kinda weird. Maybe I could’ve been one without it, or something? Or maybe I’d have just picked you, officially,” he said, poking her nose. “A knight and princess being together is a story that’s, like, 1000 years old, after all.”

“That’s really sweet, Marco, but… nah,” Star dismissed him, turning over to stare at the same sky he was, folding his hands inside hers.

“Nah?”

“Nah. You wouldn’t have been a knight for long.”

“Oh yeah? How come?”

“If I was still a princess, then you’d be my prince.”

He jerked upward out of instinct, only stopping because of the weight on his chest. “Uh, Star? I, um, I don’t think that’s how noble ranks, um-” Stream of consciousness took over while he scrambled to collect his shattered thoughts.

“Princesses can do what they want, silly. I’d declare you Marco Diaz, Prince of Echo Creek, and your mom and dad could get little crowns, and there’d be all sorts of ridiculous contracts to sign. You’d be free to whatever you wanted on Earth, too! But we could still be together.” Her head tilted up and her eyes met his once more. “Forever.” The determination in those pools reflected love at him, and even with the impact from the gravitas of her statement, it still just felt natural, it felt right, like everything with Star always seemed to. She leaned upwards to kiss him, slow and soft and sweet as her hands ran over his face and through his hair as his reciprocated. When they finally broke apart, Star sat up, and the Sun framed her hair in the most beautiful way; Marco found himself needing a few more moments than usual to catch his breath. “I’ll always love you, Marco.”

“No matter what, Star, I’ll always love you too. Now come on,” he said, pushing off the ground to a standing position. “Let’s go win some Yards, my princess.”

“We just had a moment, Diaz. You get a pass, this one time… my prince.” She puffed up her cheeks indignantly, but a radiant smile cracked the facade almost immediately, clearly as lighthearted and giddy as he’d ever known her to be, and he felt much the same.

Their fingers intertwined as they dashed away towards their home once more, looking forward to finding their place in the world and - more importantly, perhaps - tag-teaming to kick some butt.

[skgway]

1824 Aug., Sat. 28

6 3/4

3 20/60

From 8 10/60 to 9 10/60 took a stroll along Coventry Street, Halfhide and Co., No. 7. Will cut me a seal with a motto e.g. a violet under a hedge with the motto il faut me chercher, for a guinea. Cutting my arms would be 3 guineas – 

Then strolled along the Haymarket Jermyn Street., Regent Street to the end of Pall-Mall, thro’ St. James Square home – Sauntering leisurely turning up and down to look about me – Breakfast at 9 1/2 – went out at 10 10/60 – 

Mr. Webb went with me to shew me the Jews’ synagogue (Danemark Court, Exeter Street Strand) – Went thro’ Leicester Square – 1/4 hour at the synagogue – Much disappointed – A dirty shabby place, yet they say, quite as good as that in Duke’s place near Houndsditch – But it seems, their grand place, where the tabernacle is, is in the minories – the Jew do not like to admit strangers – Cordingley met us just come out of the chapel (I had sent her at 9 to Mr. Truefitt to take a lesson in hair dressing) – 

Went to the sitting magistrate Hatton garden – Only 2 magistrates there this morning (got there at about 11), the one Mr. Flower, the other (the most gentlemanly) who behaved to me so like a gentleman yesterday – 5 40/60 p.m. Interrupted here by dinner – 

Mr. Webb soon brought up a roast leg of mutton and a newspaper asking me if I would like to look at it – I casually answered yes! He said there was business at Hatton Garden in it – He had never thought of its getting into the papers, and now it would be in them all – ‘Ah!’ said I, ‘the thought and fear of it just struck me last night – I am very sorry for it’ – It was the Times newspaper of today – 

The whole thing very fairly put in – At the moment I felt mortified and annoyed at the idea of what a quiz it would be against me – Mr. Webbe saw this, which was probably more than he expected – I soon, however, grew reconciled as I always do, and told Mr. Webb when he came in again I could not help laughing at the thing, and did not know before that I was like a foreigner – “a lady whose habiliments and address bespoke her of foreign extraction” – 

Told Mr. Webbe, if my uncle saw, it would a laugh against me forever – The truth was, I thought first of the Saltmarshes and that it would be in everybody's mouth at Halifax – 

But to return to my this morning’s visit in Hatton garden – I walked in to the magistrates room – It seems, by the newspaper, Mr. Rogers was the 3rd magistrate yesterday and Mr. Laing the gentlemanly man to whom I felt most obliged – 

I bowed and told him I had brought Mr. Webb – Mr. Laing appeared to smile, just said if I would give my name and address the permission should be granted – I asked if my name would not be sufficient. On his answering, ‘No!’ They were obliged to be particular whom they admitted – only to admit ladies and gents – Immediately wrote Miss Lister Shibden Hall Yorkshire, and Mr. Laing desired a clerk to write an order for me and my servant Elizabeth Wilkes Cordingley and Mr. Webb to see the tread-mill and the interior – I bowed, said I was much obliged the the gents, and retired – 

The order procured us instant admittance, the utmost civility, and a sight of the whole interior – I asked the matron (a very nice woman who shewed the womens’ apartments, if she often shewed them – She said yes! But it required a particular order from the magistrates – And that this order (by which we were admitted), must have been a very particular one – 

A most gratifying sight to see the prison so clean, and healthy, and orderly, and altogether in such excellent discipline – About 250 men and women and children – The men and women have 1 1/4 lb. bread a day, a pot (would hold a quart, I think at least) of gruel a day, and 6 oz. of meat every other day, and on the intermediate days, soup made of what the meat (beef, I understood) was boiled thickened with oatmeal and vegetables – 

The women far worse to manage then the men – The matron would have less trouble with 500 men than 10 women – The young women (in their teens) the worst – And the man told us, the boys were much worse than the men – He thought there was more vice among them then any set of people – 

8 20/60. I have just had Mr. Webb who came with the Courier newspaper (a little different from the Times, not less civil to me) and begged to say, he thought perhaps I had best write something in reply – Had best write a handsome letter to the editor of which paper I chose (I preferred the Courier) – I shall think of this a few minutes – 

Began to write some – Buckley came with my pelisse – It does not fit at all – A great deal too large – Then the person from Waller’s brought my stays – Luckily, these do very well – At last, at 10 1/2 sat down and finished (altered the whole style of what I had written before) the following:

 “To the editor of the Courier – 

Sir – I have this moment read in your paper of today, the account of my applying yesterday to the magistrates of Hatton Garden for permission to see the treadmill at Cold Bath-Fields prison – I am surprised and sorry to find myself so unexpectedly intruded on the valuable space of your paper, having been perfectly thoughtless that so unimportant a circumstance could have been deemed worthy of notice; but since the matter has been made public, I feel desired that my motive should be divested of the “scientific” nature to which it has been attributed, and reduced to the simple wish of examining for myself the merits or demerits of the tread-mill. 

I beg to express my thanks to the magistrates for their order of admission, which procured me not only access to the whole interior of the building, but the most obliging civility and attention from the matron and other attendants, on whom the apparent health and civil manners of the prisoners, and the perfect neatness and cleanliness of all the rooms, reflect the highest credit – 

I cannot help feeling persuaded from the case with which all the prisoners, male and female, seemed to perform the exercise of the tread-mill, as well as from the short trial I myself made of it, that the labor is not so excessive as it has been represented, nor by any means so great as that daily undergone by a large portion of the lower classes of society – 

If this determination never to condemn even in my own mind (for I presume not beyond this) any institution sanctioned by the proper authorities of my country, till I have taken all the pains in my power to procure the best possible information on the subject, – 

If such a determination, tho’ however in the present case too hastily or ignorantly pursued, can at all excuse the singularity and perhaps informality of my application to the magistrates, I shall be much obliged to you to insert this letter in your next paper, and am Sir, your honourable servant A. Lister”–

Sent for Mr. Webbe – read him the above – He thought nothing could be better and was for my sending it – But I had determined to let the matter rest, and merely wrote this, that he might not think I could not do it – 

Told him I should not like the notoriety of the thing – Should bring John Bull upon myself, etc. etc. and should be absent into the bargain, etc. and Mr. Webbe finished by agreeing I was right, tho’ I plainly saw he would have liked the notice into which I should probably bring myself – 

I told [him] I could bring myself into notice any time, but it would not suit me now. John Bull would sift out everything. And my uncle, tho of an old family and good fortune, did not live in that style, would bear me out at present as I should wish – 

But to return once more to the morning – After leaving the prison Mr. Webbe walked with us in search of South Crescent (Alfred Place Tottenham Court road) – It seemed a pretty long walk thro’ Brandenburgh, n! Mecklenburgh Squares, and thro’ an abundance of new streets –

Knocked at home 3 in the crescent – Asked for a wrong person, merely to find out that Mr. James Vallance lived there – A dirty woman servant came to the door – A simple house, like all the rest in the crescent – 4 stories high including the cellar kitchens – But I think the V– [Vallance]’s must be a vulgarish set – 

Returned by the Soho bazar – Mr. Webbe shewed us all over it – Got home at 2 – Thanked Mr. W– [Webb] for his civility – The poor man had spoken most handsomely of his wife, and seemed to like to talk of her – He seems impressed with a considerable of my talents, and importance, physical strength, walking, riding, etc. etc. 

Asked him about the expense of living in London – or of having lodgings or being at an hotel – He thought I could keep myself a maid and 2 men at an hotel very handsomely for 3 guineas a day, and a couple of horses would cost me a guinea a week each at livery – 

My cloth boots pinched me – Changed them and went out again directly – Took Cordingley to shew her the Burlington Arcade and Western Exchange bazar – Then sent her home – 

Sauntered slowly along myself to 166 Strand, and bought (at Dobson’s) a self-pointing pencil – Did npot much like the manners of the man, but found his pencil 3 /. [shillings] cheaper than in the Exeter change [Exeter Exchange], where I bought a small mariner’s compass in a brass case 4 /. [shillings] – 

Then sauntered all along Regent Street and Portland Place, and Park Crescent across the new road a little way into the Park – The entrance paris style portico and steeple of all souls church at the far end of Regent Street very beautiful – The circle not quite finished – Regent Street and the tout ensemble Portland Place, etc. magnificent – 

Met with a seal cutter No. 260 who would cut a fancy seal (a violet and il faut me chercher) for about 12 /. [shillings], ladies’ arms 1 1/2 guineas, gentlemans 2 guineas, without a motto, and 2 1/2 with one – Silvester No. 27 Strand would charge 18 /. [shillings] for the fancy seal, 2 guineas for a lady’s arms, and 2 1/2 for a gentlemans – Cheaper than Halfhide – 

Got home at 5 20/60 – Washing my hands, etc. Dinner at 5 40/60 – The occupations of the evening are given out of their place – Above – Very fine day – E [one dot, treating venereal complaint] O [no dots, marking discharge]. 

Settl[ed my accounts (sent Cordingley to bed at 11) and went to my room at 12 40/60. Then packed, which took me till 2 3/4 –

[More About Coldbath Fields Prison]

In the Mount Pleasant area of Clerkenwell, London the prison was originally run by magistrates and housed prisoners on short sentences of up to two years, and also served as a debtor's prison. It took its name from Cold Bath Spring, a medicinal spring discovered in 1697. The prison housed men, women and children until 1850, when the women and children moved to Tothill Fields Bridewell, leaving only male offenders over the age of 17. Despite its aspirations to be more humanitarian, it became notorious for its strict regime of silence and its use of the treadmill.

"Prisoners Working At The Tread-wheel, And Others Exercising, In The 3rd Yard Of The Vagrants' Prison, Coldbath Fields" from "The criminal prisons of London, and scenes of prison life (1864) by Henry Mayhew & John Binny.

Another image from “The criminal prisons of London, and scenes of prison life” (1864) by Henry Mayhew & John Binny. The main felons block is on the left, the vagrants block was the "half cartwheel" bottom left, the misdemeanants block centre right. More details are on the accompanying plan File:coldbath-fields-plan-mayhew-p283.jpg

Extract from London Courier and Evening Gazette, Saturday 28 August 1824, shared by Moira Macdonald with The Real Anne Lister blog.

[kurtty-drabbles]

The Swan Lake au

N/A: I grew up watching Don Bluth´s version and man...talk about wasted potential. I love how the princess didn´t want to marry the Prince because they have nothing in common. So, how about a retelling of that story where Kitty, the Princess does love the evil wizard Kurt(Rothbart) without Stockholm Syndrome or anything like that? Also, I´m chicken as I don´t want to make Kitty´s father as an asshole(he´s one in the comics) but I want to use an uncle here....wait, in the movie Odette was raised by her father but she may as well be raised by the wild bears as no one was really paying attention to her.

@djinmer4 @dannybagpipesarecalling @discordsworld

In the kingdom of Magnolia, a plague infests their lands causing nothing but misery to the farmers and to everyone who needs food. The King Regent, Alfred, is facing a great crisis as his last option is to call help from the ever so intimidating Necromancer.

"A Plague?" the voice carries an accent that is new to the kingdom attracting attention from a third person in the conference room, someone the King-regent is not paying attention.

"Yes, a mutated form of locusts are attacking the land and we don´t know what to do to stop, can you help us?" the King -Regent asked with a plea in his tone, something not heard every day.

"I can do that easily, my magic is more than enough to exterminate them, are you alright with the payment?" The Necromancer asked showing a fanged smile and the King only nods his head "in that case, consider the problem solved"

The third person in the room is still being ignored, even more, as the Necromancer leaves the room.

The Necromancer, named Kurt, not always goes have to chit chat with clients in their own places, however, Kurt has to admit Magnolia is richer than Genosha and is interesting to make contacts in this kingdom.

Kurt stops in the hall and chuckles amused.

"You can come out now, the little spell of yours is not very good, at least not against me" Kurt speaks and a young woman with doe eyes, chestnut hair in a ponytail braid style(resembling, for some reason, the pure essence of autumn) and a blue dress. If it wasn´t for the small crown on her head, Kurt could have mistaken her for the lady-in-waiting of this court.

“Oh, how did you notice me?” the woman in question is older enough, no more than 21 years, but still carries a certain naivete and innocence that Kurt finds cute. A Princess in such richer kingdom sure has better things to do than following him around.

“Your smell” Kurt stated and Kitty starts to smell herself and looking at him dubiously, she is not smelling bad nor strongly enough “my nose is more sensitive than yours and I can feel your aura” far too innocent to be mistaken with the King.

“Now, tell me, what´s a princess like you doing in following me?” Kurt asked waiting to scare her a little, yet, the effect was the opposite.

“I didn´t mean to bother you, I just want to see you doing real magic” and then she realizes, with shame and disgust that no one introduced herself to him neither Kitty “My name is Katherine Anne Pryde, daughter of Cameron and Theresa Pryde” she made a bow and Kurt chuckles, yes, she is too innocent.

“Wait, magic? You´re the Princess of the richer kingdom of all the 7 kingdoms….You can hire a tutor or a magician without a problem” Kurt could see what would come next either she would try to flirt with him or appeal to his ego.

“My uncle never let me be near to magic” Kitty stated and Kurt looks a bit perplexed “Oh, that?is not magic, is my waking, I can phase through walls and anything” she explained smiling and then bites her inner lips as she gains courage to ask “can I watch you perform magic?”

“I´ll kill dozen of mutated animals in the most brutal way”

“I know, still, I would like to see. Magic is something I always want to understand. The freedom it gives as well the pain and brings.”

“Well, if have the stomach to handle me killing several mutated animals for hours, why not?” Kurt stated and Kitty follows him along.

________________________

True to his words the elimination of this plague was not a walk in the park, far from it, yet, Kitty did pay attention to the spells used. In the end, the problem was solved and Kurt receives his payment. No one cheating on the payment, unlike a certain kingdom, Kurt then notices the absence of the princess. It´s night and everyone is feasting. In his honour, although some could argue it was more dedicated to the free lands than him, semantics.

“Where´s the Princess?” Kurt asked confused as the seat dedicated to her is empty and he knows she was unharmed during his job and ended up back to the castle safely. King Regent offers an apologetic smile.

“She´s feeling sick of the sudden, you know, women´s problems” the king explained and as the few members of the court refused to look at the King as he explains the situation, something is not right.

He shouldn´t care.

He really shouldn´t care, yet, he does.

______________________

On the next morning, Kitty receives a letter in secret from the Necromancer, the man asked if she is alright and Kitty wonders if this is one of those magical letters where the other can see you, Kitty´s eyes are red and puffy as her check is marked with a slap.

“Dear Kurt, I´m fine...I was just feeling tired, if you are offering to teach me, for real? I would enjoy that very much, could be after day 5” she looks herself at the mirror looking angry at the slap on her face, it will take a few days to heal, even with her maids using the healing spells and ailments “by the way, that spell you used on the last locusts, could you teach me?”

Kitty now looks again to her bruise. This is the last time her uncle ever hurts her.

______________________________________

Lately, the Princess of Magnolia is not always in her chores, for example, she was supposed to cut the tie of the newest school in the Capital, however, she wasn´t there. It was her lady-in-waiting who cut the tie. No one really complained as the school itself is magnificent and later the Princess did show up to the joy of each kid.

The King- Regent never knew about this little incident or the others.

“Calm down, focus” Kurt instructed a shivering Kitty who is holding a green energy ball with her own free will as Kurt explain.   

“For how long should I keep doing this?” Kitty speaks gravelly closing her eyes and focusing on her task.

“Uhm, until you feel the energy can´t be contained anymore” Kurt explained and Kitty nods once deeming now is the time to let go of the green energy ball. The Princess let the ball drop on the floor causing a medium hole on the ground.

“Yeah, not bad for a beginner” Kurt stated analysing the hole and then Kitty´s hand, not much burning as he envisioned for the first time.  Using a potion the man puts on her delicate hands. Kurt likes the contrast of their hands.

“Am I getting better?” Kitty asked with that cute smile of her and Kurt is feeling soft again.

“You´re moving to decent” Kurt teased her and Kitty pouts “by the way, why do you want to learn magic so much? if you have a problem I can do it for you” Kitty didn´t think this suggestion was as flattering or gallant as Kurt hoped.

“I´ve had men saying the exact thing, don´t move a finger, Little Kitty, I can do it for you, I can rule for you” Kitty looks enraged as she continues “Little Kitty, stay in your Room, I know better. I´m sick of this”there´s certain desperation on her voice “is madness living there...I can´t only count with my words against men that can beat me up...I need an advantage, green balls of energy are one of them”

Kurt lets her rant until she is over. Give a glass of water and merely speaks.

“In that case, the next lesson will have to be different, if you want to survive in such court...you´ll need more spells, are you sure you don´t want me to kill all of them?”

“Lovely offer, but not, thank you, elf”

“I only let you call me elf cause you´re cute”

Kitty was about to ask if the new spell will coast something, her hand is in the rubies of her bracelet(Kitty does not care for anything given by her uncle) when Kurt replies.

“No, keep with the bracelet, the lesson is free”

“Ok” she takes her bracelet and hands to Kurt “But I want to give my bracelet, fuzzy elf”

___________________________________

Kitty, according to the King-Regente, is not a beauty and much less fit to rule the Kingdom. A poor girl in a woman´s body still grieving for the loss of her parents. That is the answer given when Magneto asked why Kitty, with 21 years old now, is not the ruler. No one buys this excuse until Pietro, by accident, saw Kitty and the evil necromancer talking on the west pond.

Magneto didn´t think twice to call the X-men and Excalibur. The King-Regent was furious and wants to make his displeasure know to his niece, except, his hand is now bleeding.

“You won´t touch me again, uncle”  Kity states proudly with her green glowing hands now she tries to run, but, this was not effective. The guards captured Kitty using more advanced spells. Kitty did put a fight. Use all the spells she could and phase at the best moment, but, the guards of Magnolia are trained to be the best of the best. The elite. Kitty may have talent with magic, but, a few months training is not enough as guards who had years perfecting their magic.

“The necromancer completely dominates her mind” The man speaks wipe the blood of his check “ Look what she has done to me! let this girl stay on her room, never let her leave, I´ll call Excalibur to take a look on her mind, that monster temper her poor fragile mind”

“NO! YOU ARE THE ONE WHO IS TRYING TO TEMPER EVERYTHING HERE” Kitty screams and some listen, some ignored and some did nothing.

Rachel Grey is the daughter of Jean Grey. The name has tremendous weight. Once entering the room, the woman was not expecting this. Usually, when someone controls anyone´s mind, as the king gives the so-called symptoms, the person would think only about their master and nothing more.

“My name is Rachel Grey” Rachel introduced herself “I´m a heroine and I´m here to save you, I just want to make sure your mind is alright, do you let me enter in your mind?”

“Why do you need my consent? I know you´re trying to enter with no success” Kitty spats back still reading her book “I don´t want anyone poking with my mind and no, I´m not under anyone´s control”

“The Necromancer stole a very valuable bracelet it´s on his nature to do so” Rachel tries again.

“I gave to him, that bracelet was a present from my uncle...he wanted to fuck me and make me his bride….so, is Excalibur going to save me from him?”

______________________

Kurt Wagner is a man of patience. That´s one of his virtues. Kurt Wagner is also a man prompt to feel a fury no one could describe. Right now, Magnolia will be the witness of such an event. Kurt Wagner is not anger. He´s pissed.

Kitty didn´t show up for her classes, Kitty didn´t give notice has days now. And once asking around “nicely” to a new member of X-men turns out Princess Kitty is being held captive in her own home by her uncle and Excalibur is trying to clean her mind from his influence.

Kurt is not in a good mood now.

The burned land of the capital is an indication of that. And the pillage of dead bodies is too. The guards who saw the Necromancer coming to Kitty´s room did the only thing possible, abandoned their weapon and surrender themselves.

No one gets away with this injustice, however, the guards are not dead or permanently injured.  The door has a series of complex seals prevent Kitty from phasing and anyone else to enter. The seals are good but they aren´t against Kurt.

“Katzchen?” Kurt asked the woman coughing and far too thin, in his mind, she´s too thin. Kurt takes her in a bridal style tenderly “Are you alright?”

“I´m not dying, you won´t need to resurrect me, I´m just with hungry and thirsty” the words leave her mouth so weakly and Kurt really didn´t like this at all. The man summons a glass of water for Kitty to drink.

“I´m going to take you out of here, ok?” Kurt asks his bamfs to take Kitty to his house safely.

“I have to do one last thing”

___________________________

King Regent is not pleased. No, he´s terrified as the Necromancer is in the castle.Where is the X-men or Excalibur?

“Help!” Alfred screams in agony.

“Help?” a male voice now whisper in his ear “there´s no one but me in this room, I´m the God now and I decide that an incestuous freak like you don´t need to live very much, the worms may have a better use  for you”

No one heard from Alfred ever again.

_______________________________

“My head” Kitty speaks nursing a headache it has been 15 days since she´s in Kurt´s home and it seems that what happened in the Magnolia was a bad dream. “Good morning, Kurt”

“Good morning, how is your head?”

“Fine, just don´t let me drink that much beer like last night, ok?”

“Ok”

[bravemccalll]

you make a fool of death with your beauty .7

ao3 | ff.net

chapter seven – love like a bullet

 The week in which someone dies, they meet Tsumiki’s killer, and Hajime realises that he’s in love with two people at once, is also the week in which Kazuichi tries to sell The Pie Hole’s customers his new product.

“For limited time only! A cologne for men that is guaranteed to get you a woman! Perfect for a Christmas gift.”

“Is that just the cologne that you tried to sell last year in a different bottle?” Fuyuhiko asks.

“No comment,” Kazuichi says.

“That means it is,” Nagito says to Fuyuhiko in a stage whisper. Fuyuhiko snorts. Hajime notes that the bags under his eyes are deeper.

“Come on, guys!” Kazuichi whines, walking over to slump in a stool next to Fuyuhiko. “It’s Christmas on Friday. It’s Tuesday. You can’t have possibly bought all your presents by now.”

“Kazuichi, just because you’re a mess doesn’t mean we all are,” Peko says as she exits the kitchen. She comes behind the counter to stand next to Hajime and faces Fuyuhiko. “I managed to get us tickets to that museum you wanted to go to.”

Fuyuhiko grins wryly at her. “Are you trying to butter me up or somethin’?”

She shrugs. “Maybe. Or maybe I just want to spoil you. Is that so bad?”

Fuyuhiko opens his mouth to reply but Kazuichi leans over and interrupts him. “You know what would go well with a museum date? Cologne.”

Nagito laughs. Fuyuhiko doesn’t. “Try to sell me that thing one more time and I’ll crack you over the head with it.”

“He says that in a very loving and friendly way,” Hajime interjects.

“No, I don’t,” Fuyuhiko deadpans before Peko drags him through the kitchen to her office.

There is a beat of silence.

“So, do you think they’re making out or what?” Kazuichi says.

Hajime throws a dirty rag at him while Nagito laughs.

//

 Here’s the thing: Peko is a lot of things and mysterious may be one of them, but to Hajime she is one of the most straight-forward people he has ever met.

Her story is a simple one and was told to him in a brief few sentences, minutes before their first shift at The Pie Hole.

Her family was a foreign one, and a very rich one.

They were involved in some deep politics and had intended to marry her off to a Duke as soon as they could.

The night they met was after she had run away because they had told her their plan. She had returned but when she saw him again all those years later, she wanted something more for herself. She wanted to build something that would actually mean something to her.

(Hajime had only nodded and a few months later told her about his powers. A few days after that she had hugged him as tight as she could and thanked him with her voice raw and open in a way that had made his eyes water.

They had burned her red dress on the first anniversary of The Pie Hole’s opening. They had made smores.)

 //

 On the Wednesday, Sonia and Gundham come into The Pie Hole and Hajime asks them if anything was strange about their apartment.

“Well,” Sonia says, her pointer finger coming up to tap on her chin. “Our door doesn’t actually lock.”

“What?” Fuyuhiko asks. “How can you live in an apartment that doesn’t lock?”

“We use the door chain to lock the door at night but you cannot lock the door with a key at all,” Sonia explains.

“There is an angry aura surrounding the place,” Gundham says. “There is a crack right next to the door and some scratches on the floor.”

“Sounds like there was a struggle there,” Fuyuhiko muses. Chiaki hums in agreement.

Watson huffs and presses her face against Gundham’s thigh. “Hello,” he coos, reaching down to pat her and pulling out dog treats to feed her. Watson barks happily.

“He just carries them around with him?” Hajime asks.

Sonia looks away from Watson and Gundham who she had been watching with a fond grin. “Yes. Gundham is a dog trainer!” Gundham puffs out his chest proudly.

“You’re joking,” Fuyuhiko says, his expression incredulous. Sonia turns to him with a confused look. “Wow, you’re not joking.”

“Anyway,” Hajime interjects before someone’s feelings get hurt. “Thank you, a lot, guys.”

“It was no problem,” Sonia says and smiles brilliantly.

“Do you need someone to train…” Gundham starts.

“Watson,” Chiaki supplies. “And if you want to then sure!”

Gundham gives Chiaki a rare smile and the two of them start discussing the training course for Watson.

“Well, I’m gonna go tell Kyouko what we found out. Tell Peko that I’ll be back soon.” With a final glance around, Fuyuhiko disappears out the front door.

Hajime thinks that he seems more jumpy than usual but he doesn’t know what to make of it.

 //

 Here’s the thing: Gundham and Sonia are very strange but Hajime thinks that he likes them.

Once, when Hajime had asked Sonia why she was dating Gundham, out of pure curiosity. She had replied, “Because he is the most magnificent person I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

(It was almost sweet if Hajime hadn’t also asked Gundham the same question and he had replied, “Because she is the Queen of the Underworld.”

Well, Hajime can bring back the dead so he doesn’t think he has the right to judge too much.)

 //

 Hajime is wiping down counters on the day before Christmas, just after closing time when someone waltzes into The Pie Hole.

“We’re closed,” Fuyuhiko says without looking up from his paper. Hajime almost tells him that he doesn’t actually work here but when he looks at the person that is standing in front of the door, his mouth goes dry.

“I’m not here for pie,” the person says.

Fuyuhiko freezes.

Hajime knows that this man is Fuyuhiko’s father the way that he knows when his pies are done, the way he knows when Kazuichi is lying to him, the way he knows when Peko’s mind isn’t on what’s happening in front of her.

“Get the fuck out,” Fuyuhiko growls before Hajime can process what to do. It’s only them in The Pie Hole; Nagito and Chiaki had gone home already and Peko had retired early because of a headache that she had tried to hide from them.

“It’s rude to ignore my letters, Fuyuhiko,” his father says, ignoring what his son had said in favour of taking a seat next to him. Fuyuhiko hops up as though he had been burned.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me? After years of ignoring all of mine, you think that you have the moral high ground here?!”

“Maybe you should go,” Hajime says, trying to diffuse the situation.

“No. Someone killed one of my men and I want to know who,” Fuyuhiko’s father says.

“Oh, I see,” Fuyuhiko says. “I am dead to you until you need me to do something for you. Oh, yeah, Dad, let me just hop on that and then you can go back to never thinking about me ever again.”

“I have thought about you every single day,” his father snaps.

“Oh, big fucking whoop. Never made you ever actually talk me,” Fuyuhiko snaps back.

“I couldn’t – “

“Oh, I know. The clan is more important. Fuckin’ spare me.” Fuyuhiko turns around and disappears into the kitchen. Hajime can hear his pots smash into the ground.

“Look,” Fuyuhiko’s father says and he looks as tired as Hajime does. “I’ll tell you whatever you need to know.”

“I don’t think I should – “ Hajime starts.

“Do you know Junko Enoshima?” his father asks. Hajime stares for a moment before he nods. “She owed me some money. I doubt you knew about it, she was good at hiding it. We didn’t even know that she was pitching above her weight before my accountant found out. I demanded that she pay us back but she refused. I sent one of my men to rough up her sister and I haven’t seen him since.”

Hajime’s mind swarms with questions and his skin crawls at having to deal with this man. “Has she paid you back now?” He nods. “What does your…man look like?”

“Tall guy. Kind of has a mohawk. He was a biker before I took him on board. His name is Mondo Oowada.”

Hajime just nods. “Right. You should um – You should go.”

Fuyuhiko’s father looks at Hajime pleadingly. “Can you tell Fuyuhiko that I do love him. I do.”

Hajime says he will.

(He doesn’t.)

 //

 Here’s the thing: The Yakuza have a code. And that is that family always comes first, above all else. And breaking that code means being disowned and ostracised.

Fuyuhiko had broken the code when he had phoned the police on his uncle for beating his mother when he was seventeen.

Fuyuhiko had been unrecognisable to his own family and left out in the cold. He had run away but his mother had stayed, claiming that Fuyuhiko was a foolish child and that she at least knew her place.

(It had all been a waste anyway. His uncle had gotten out of jail after a couple of years and the first thing he had done was put a bullet in Fuyuhiko’s mother.

Fuyuhiko didn’t find out until a year later when he had tried to send a letter to her. He had received a post-it note from his father, telling him what had happened.

He keeps her locket in the drawer next to his bed.)

 //

 “Would you bring anyone else back?” Chiaki asks him while curled up on his sofa. Ever since Peko forgot to bring her home, Chiaki has started leaving some of her clothes at Hajime and Nagito’s apartment and started staying the night more and more.

“Like who?” Hajime asks from the kitchen. He’s trying to work on a new recipe for The Pie Hole but his mind is too preoccupied with what happened on the day before, with Fuyuhiko and his father. Hajime had to chase after Fuyuhiko once his father had left and caught him in a back alleyway. Fuyuhiko had kicked over a bin and punched a wall before Hajime managed to subdue him.

(“I have a little sister, you know?” Fuyuhiko had said, looking beaten down by the world. His knuckles are bleeding. “I’ve never met her.”

“Oh, Fuyuhiko,” Hajime had said. He had wrapped his arms around Fuyuhiko but it hadn’t felt like enough.)

“Hajime?” Hajime jumps and turns to see Chiaki frowning at him with concern. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, sorry what were you saying?”

She stares at him for another moment but turns back to Watson who is idly chewing on a bone. “I was just asking if you would bring back any one else back. Like Nagito and all that.”

Hajime hums in thought. “I’ve talked to them about it a few times. Peko doesn’t want to trade someone else’s life for her’s so she’s against it. Fuyuhiko feels the same. Nagito wants to be brought back as long as I touch him again just before I die so we can go together. Kazuichi just wants brought back full stop.”

Chiaki nods as though she thought so. “I don’t know why I want to know, I just…I have this bad feeling, you know? I don’t know why.” Watson whines and abandons her bone in favour of pressing her face into Chiaki’s stomach. Chiaki buries her face into her fur. “I feel like I’m going to lose someone that I have come to care about and I don’t want that to happen but I don’t know how to stop it.”

Hajime stands helplessly in his kitchen, wanting to comfort her but being unable to. “I’m sure we’ll all be alright,” he says. She looks up at him with watery eyes. “We’ve endured a lot. Whatever is coming, we’ll endure as well.”

She smiles at him and turns to Watson to play with her. Hajime bites down on his lip harshly. The bad feeling is also in his stomach and he doesn’t know what to do about it either.

 //

 Here’s the thing: Christmas has always been a holiday that has marked the years of Hajime’s life.

When he was younger, he had adored it. He remembers one particular Christmas in which he had gone sledding with Kazuichi.

In the years after his parents had died, the holiday had only been a reminded of how alone he was and how cold the world could become.

In the most recent years, they had been happy again. Surrounded by his new family that he had found all on his own, Hajime felt more at home than he had since the car crash.

(This Christmas was going to be one that they will all remember forever .)

[awhilesince]

Saturday, 28 August 1824

6 3/4

3 20/60

From 8 10/60 to 9 10/60 took a stroll along Coventry Street Halfhide and Company number 7 will cut me a seal with a motto e.g. a violet under a hedge with the motto Il faut me chercher, for a guinea cutting my arms would be 3 guineas – then strolled along the Haymarket Jermyn Street, Regent Street, to the end of Pall-mall, thro’ St. James Square home – Sauntering leisurely turning up and down to look about me – 

Breakfast at 9 1/2 – went out at 10 10/60 – Mr Webb went with me to shew me the Jews’ synagogue (Danemark Court, Exeter Street Strand) – went thro’ Leicester Square – 1/4 hour at the synagogue – much disappointed – a dirty shabby place, yet, they say, quite as good as that in Duke’s place near Houndsditch – but, it seems, their grand place, where the tabernacle is, in the minories – the Jew do not like to admit strangers – 

Cordingley met us just come out of the chapel (I had sent her at 9 to Mr Truefitt to take a  lesson in hair dressing) – went to the sitting magistrate Hatton garden – only 2 magistrates there this morning (got there at about 11) the one Mr Flower, the other (the most gentlemanly) who behaved to me so like a gentleman yesterday – 

5 40/60 p.m. interrupted here by dinner – Mr Webb soon brought up a roast leg of mutton and a newspaper asking me if I would like to look at it – I casually answered yes! He said there was this business at Hatton garden in it – he had never thought of its getting into the papers, and now it would be in them all – ah! said I, the thought and fear of it just struck me last night – I am very sorry for it – It was the Times newspaper of today – the whole thing very fairly put in – At the moment I felt mortified and annoyed – I soon, however, grew reconciled as I always do, and Told Mr Webb when he came in again I could not help laughing at the thing, and did not know before that I was like a foreigner, – ‘a lady whose habiliments and address bespoke her of foreign Extraction’ – Told Mr Webbe, if my uncle saw, it was a laugh against me forever – the truth was I thought first of the Saltmarshes and that it would be in everybodys mouth at Halifax – 

But to return to my this morning’s visit in Hatton garden – I walked in to the magistrates room – It seems by the newspaper Mr Rogers was the 3rd magistrate yesterday and Mr Laing the gentlemanly man to whom I felt most obliged – I bowed and told him I had brought Mr Webb – Mr Laing appeared to smile, but said, if I would give my name and address the permission should be granted – I asked if my name would not be sufficient on his answering no! They were obliged to be particular whom they admitted – only to admit ladies and gentlemen – I immediately wrote Miss Lister Shibden hall Yorkshire; and Mr Laing desired a clerk to write an order for me and my servant Elizabeth Wilkes Cordingley and Mr Webb to see the tread-mill and the interior – I bowed, said I was much obliged to the gentlemen, and retired – 

the order procured us instant admittance, the utmost civility, and a sight of the whole interior – I asked the matron (a very nice woman who shewed the womens’ apartments) if she often shewed them – she said yes! but it required a particular order from the magistrates – and that this order (by which we were admitted) must have been a very particular one – a most gratifying sight to see the prison so clean, and healthy, and orderly, and altogether in such excellent discipline – about 350, men and women and children – the men and women have 1 1/4 lb. (pound) bread a day, a pot (would hold a quart, I think, at least) of gruel a day, and 6 oz. (ounces) of meat every other day, and on the intermediate days, soup made of what the meat (beef, I understand) was boiled thickened with oatmeal and vegetables – the women far worse to manage than the men – the matron would have less trouble with 500 men than 10 women – the young women (in their teens) the worst – and the man told us, the boys were much worse than the men – he thought there was more vice among them than any set of people – 

8 20/60 I have just had Mr Webb who came up with the Courier newspaper (a little different from the Times, not less civil to me) and begged to say, he thought perhaps I had best write something in reply – had best write a handsome letter to the editor of which paper I chose (I preferred the Courier) – I shall think of this a few minutes – Began to write some – 

Buckley came with my pelisse – it does not fit at all – a great deal too large – then the person from Waller’s brought my stays – luckily these do very well – 

at last at 10 1/2 sat down and finished (altered the whole style of what I had written before) the following 

‘To the editor of the Courier – Sir – I have this moment read in your paper of today, the account of my applying yesterday to the magistrates of Hatton garden for permission to see the Tread mill at Cold Bath-fields prison – I am surprised and sorry to find myself so unexpectedly intruded on the valuable space of your paper, having been perfectly thoughtless that so unimportant a circumstance could have been deemed worthy of notice; but since the matter has been made public, I feel desired that my motive should be divested of the ‘scientific’ mature to which it has been attributed, and reduced to the simple wish of examining for myself the merits or demerits of the tread-mill I beg to express my thanks to the magistrates for their order of admission which procured me not only access to the whole interior of the building, but the most obliged civility and attention from the matron and other attendants on whom the apparent health and civil manners of the prisoners, and the perfect neatness and cleanliness of all the rooms reflect the highest credit – I cannot help feeling persuaded, from the case with which all the prisoners, male or female, seemed to perform the exercise of the tread-mill, as well as from the short trial I myself made of it, that the labour is not so excessive as it has been represented, nor by any means so great as that daily undergone by a large portion of the lower classes of society – If the determination never to condemn even in my own mind (for I presume not beyond this) any institution sanctioned by the proper authorities of my country, till I have taken all the pains in my power to procure the best possible information on the subject, – if such a determination, tho’ however in the present case too hastly or ignorantly pursued can at all excuse the singularity and perhaps informally of my application to the magistrates, I shall be much obliged to you to insert this letter in your next paper, and am Sir, your humble servant A Lister’ – 

sent for Mr Webbe – read him the above – he thought nothing could be better and was for my sending it – but I had determined to let the matter rest, and merely wrote this that he might not think I could not do it  Told him I should not like the notoriety of the thing – should bring John Bull upon myself, etc etc and should be absent into the bargain etc etc and Mr Webbe finished by agreeing I was right, tho’ I plainly saw he would have liked the notice into which I should bring myself –

I told I could bring myself into notice any time but it would not suit me now John Bull would sift out everything and my uncle tho of an old family and good fortune did not live in that style would bear me out at at present as I should wish – But to return once more to the morning – 

After leaving the prison, Mr Webbe walked with us in search of South Crescent (Alfred place Tottenham Court road) – it seemed a pretty long walk thro’ Brandenburgh, no! Mecklenburgh Squares, and thro’ an abundance of new streets – Knocked at no. number 3 in the crescent – asked for a wrong person merely to find out that Mr James Vallance lived there – a dirty woman servant came to the door – a small house, like all the rest in the crescent – 4 stories high including the cellar kitchens – but I think the V–s (Vallances) must be a vulgarish set – 

returned by the Soho bazar – Mr Webbe shewed us all over it – got home at 2 – thanked Mr W– Webbe for his civility – the poor man had spoken most handsomely of his wife, and seemed to like to talk of her – He seems impressed with a considerable of my talents, and importance, physical strength, walking, riding, etc etc asked him about the expense of living in London – or of having lodgings, or being at an hotel – He thought I could keep myself and a maid and 3 men at an hotel very handsomely for 3 guineas a day, and a couple of horses would cost me a guinea a week each at livery – 

my cloth boots pinched me – changed them and went out again directly – Took Cordingley to shew her the Burlington arcade and western exchange bazar – then sent her home – sauntered slowly along myself to 166 Strand, and bought (at Dobson’s) a self-pointing pencil – Did not much like the manners of the man, but found his pencil 3/. cheaper than in the Exeter change – where I bought a small mariner’s compass in a brass case 4/. – 

then sauntered all along Regent Street and Portland Place, and Park Crescent across the new road, a little way into the Park – the entrance peristyle portico and steeple of All souls church at the far end of Regent Street very beautiful – the church not quite finished – Regent Street and the toute ensemble Portland Place etc magnificent – met with a seal cutter number 260. who would cut a fancy seal (a violet and il faut me chercher) for about 12/. ladies’ arms 1 1/2 guinea gentlemen 2 guineas without a motto, and 2 1/2 with one – Silvester number 27. Strand would charge 18/. for the fancy seal, 2 guineas for a lady’s arms, and 2 1/2 for a gentlemans – cheaper than Halfhide – 

got home at 5 20/60 – washing my hands etc Dinner at 5 40/60 – the occupations of the evening are given out of their place – above – Very fine day – E one dot O no dot, marking discharge from venereal complaint – 

Settled my accounts (sent Cordingley to bed at 11) and went to my room at 12 40/60 then packed which took me till 2 3/4 –

reference number: SH:7/ML/E/8/0036, SH:7/ML/E/8/0037

[marumafan]

Yuuram in Novel 15

So, I made a promise to write one of these per day until next week. So here’s the end to the Seisakoku arc. It’s so nice to re-read it and find little things I never paid too much attention to before. I always include things I find interesting even if they’re not yuuram. Anyways, enjoy: Yuuram in Novel : 1|2|3|4|5|6|7|8|9|10|11|12|13|14|15|16|17 

——————————————————————  Novel 15. ch.1 - So he uses majutsu anywhere but when Wolf wants to do it...-

"...If it's same as a game, then the zombie group must be weak against fire, right."

Wolfram who was standing next to me folded his knees. And soon the emerald green eyes were sparkling close to me. His fire techniques are magnificent. By controlling a fire beast effectively, he could burn down only the dead.

"Don't do it." But if I think about the nature of the locality, I couldn't let him do something unreasonable. "Why are you stopping me." "Didn't you say that magic doesn't work in the land of the Shinzoku." "But.." "Even if you have Gunter's protector, how can I let you do such a reckless thing!" "Boys! Enough of your playing around."

—————————————————————— Novel 15. ch.2 - Drunkenness and lies -

Maybe it’s just me, but it feels as though Adalbert’s powerful muscles shrivel quite a lot, looks like he’s a man who easily makes mistakes because of alcohol. Wolfram, too, uses poisonous words unbefitting of his pretty face to add salt to the wound,

“Oh dear, don’t tell me you want to say you were drunk then? That can’t be possible, people call you the Grantz boss, how could you have gotten drunk on one barrel of wine? By the way, you also said you don’t sleep while hugging baby bears anymore.”

(...)

Afterwards, according to my investigations, it seems there was never ‘a promise on the ship’. Wolf replies with a straight face, “I was just winging it.”

He even tells me, “He’s the man who betrayed Shin Makoku, and stood on the humans’ side. I really hate my uncle and Grantz, rather than giving Adalbert wine, I’d rather pour the highest quality grape wine into the river.”

To think he could tell such a lie so easily, seems like he’s matured too.

—————————————————————— Novel 15. ch.2 -Telepathically - 

“Yuuri, you still plan to…”

Wolfram tries to say something, but Lord Weller puts a hand on his shoulder, looking at him and shaking his head. As expected of brothers, they understand each other telepathically even without words.

—————————————————————— Novel 15. ch.2 -Henachoko -

“It is indeed rare for the king to appear at the frontlines himself.” “Is that so?” “Other than Shinou, I heard there are only two others who went to the frontlines of their own volition.” “Surely Yuuri will be praised by the poets in the future as a brave king, huh? Although you're actually such a henachoko.” “Henachoko… That’s right, it’s because I’m a henachoko that I can’t stand this atmosphere.” Wolfram leans back slightly and makes fun at me, since I haven't been able to think of a decent strategy until now, I don’t even have the energy to retort him.

—————————————————————— Novel 15. ch.2 -Wolfram isn't fit to do anything risky, okay!-

Murata isn’t all that heavy either, the only question is if anyone can ride a galloping horse up to him at a hair’s breadth away and then reach out to grab him.

Of course, this job can’t go to Wolfram. He’d probably lose it if I told him directly, but the position required is very challenging, and you’d need to pull up a high school student with one hand. Therefore not only would you need good riding skills, you also need powerful arm strength.

—————————————————————— Novel 15. ch.2 -Wolf gets confused by Yuuri's English words, but can understand what they're talking about?-

Wolfram was watching our conversation from a side, and finally breaks the awkward moment, “So all you need is position?” With his hands on his hips, he tilts his upper body back, his tone sounding as though he understands the English we’re speaking. “In that case, just make her our goodwill ambassador. Won’t it be fine if you make this old woman Seisakoku’s goodwill ambassador to Seisakoku right now?”  (continues below)

—————————————————————— Novel 15. ch.2 -This bit is really interesting, it starts with Yuuri feeling dejected because no one knows he's the maou and treats him like a normal person and he can't make decisions, when Wolf steps in..-

“It is indeed very hard for you, since you’re an intermediate.”

“Mn? You’re not calling me a beginner anymore?”

“Well—You’ve been on the throne for quite a while, after all.”

He blinks his eyes, as emerald as the bottom of a clear lake, and says,

“In other words, you've grown a little bit.”

“I guess there’s been a minor change. But in the time I changed from a beginner to intermediate, I still couldn’t come up with a solution to convince the people. Ah, man”

“Then, allow me to do what I can for the the king who's grown up.”

(....)

“Since your identity is false, of course your authority is electing an official isn’t recognized. Alright, turn around!”

I don’t know what he writes on the pale green slip, and he doesn’t seem to be bothered by how uneven my back is, either, writing and signing his name fluidly. I don’t care what you’re doing, but that really is very ticklish.

“Wolf, what are you writing…”

“I elect you as the Bielefeld territory’s goodwill ambassador to Seisakoku. See!”

“What?”

He waves the paper in front of my face. Having lived more than eighty years as an aristocratic heir, he seems used to homework like this, easily giving Venera a position.

“This is something we do commonly in the territory. Choose a suitable representative from amongst the people and honor them with a title in public, so that uniting the people will henceforth be his job, and he doesn’t have to come to us for some of the small stuff too.”

“Is that so~~ To think you’re so used to these things.”

“Although I’m a soldier loyal to the Maou in the capital, my job when I’m back at my territory is more like an administrator.”

“Are you learning how to be a good leader? What mature thinking—”

—————————————————————— Novel 15. ch.4 -The punch-

Wolfram walks up to me quickly, perhaps to help me out.

“No, I’m taking Ajira with me. Although I feel bad for asking him, I still need a translator. Although I think it’s not too possible, but Wolfram, um…”

“What is it?”

“Don’t you come with me now.”

Lord von Bielefeld narrows his eyes, saying in a calm voice,

“If milord just says the word, I would gladly go to the ends of the earth for you.”

He’s sounding all polite and respectful again, even though he knows very well I can’t handle him at all when he’s like this.

“Stop joking around, I’m going off to be a hostage, how could I possibly let you come along.”

“To be able to do even the slightest thing for Your Majesty, is my utmost pride and glory.”

“T-thank you for your kind intentions, but I can’t let you come with me, Lord von Bielefeld.”

I don’t know how many times I’ve come across this situation already. Once the other person treats me so sincerely, I get frustrated and impatient because I feel I need to repay in kind. In the end, I’ll either make it worse, or say a bunch of random things.

“My beloved officer’s life shouldn’t be sacrificed for me, but contributed to the country.”

“The two are one and the same.”

“It’s not like that, Wol…”

That moment just as I’m turning around to face him, a strong impact assaults my stomach, and I nearly stop breathing. My mind goes blank for about five seconds, and I’ve no idea what happened, only managing to kneel on the ground, groaning in pain. I try to take in a breath so hard, but I can’t do it.

“Wolf… What did… you do…”

“I’m sorry.”

By the time I realize that I had taken a punch from him, he’s already taken off my hooded cloak. I’m all curled up, lying on the sand, the pain making me hold my stomach, unable to breathe. It’s obviously already night time, yet my eyes are filled with a sea of red, my throat making a piercing sound, and still the air doesn’t enter my lungs.

—————————————————————— Novel 15. ch.5 -The punch’s meaning-

Maybe it’s because I’m too much of a mess, Conrad and Wolfram both reach out their hands to try and help me up, but I don’t need their kindness right now.

“Did I ask you two to do this?”

Maybe he didn’t expect me to ask so suddenly, because Wolfram seems to be frozen in shock.

“Whose idea was it?”

“Your Majesty.”

Conrad wanted to interrupt, but Wolfram gets there first, replying,

“It was mine.”

“Now you've done it!”

Before I even finish saying the words, I’ve already pulled him by the clothes on his chest. I don’t hold back at all, our faces almost colliding. His eyes look different than usual, because of the illumination from the torch.

"What's the meaning of that punch to my stomach, huh? Do you want a divorce? To remarry someone else?”

“... respect and affection”

“Liar.”

I took a punch to the stomach for nothing, and it’s been hurting ever since then all the way until now. If I don’t force myself to stand with my back straight, I’d probably be holding my stomach and crouching on the ground by now. If it weren’t for Yelshi watching from the side, I’d have done that long ago.

To be honest, I wanted to butt my head against his hard, but exerting myself now will only make the pain worse. That’s why I thought of admonishing him in public.

“I'll get you for this!”

—————————————————————— Novel 15. ch.6 -Just Wolf being awesome in battle-

(It’s that man!)

My features contort in pain, and I raise my hands to cover my ears. The truth is his thoughts don’t reach me through my hearing, so it’s pointless even if I cover my ears. His gaze goes past several rows of the resurrection group on the left, staring at that golden hair glowing a fiery red in the torchlight. But those emerald eyes, its color looking even more complex with red mixed in, are shining with a light even brighter than his hair.

Wolfram turns back deliberately, even smiling a challenge, then he slowly kicks the stomach of his horse, purposely taking off at a speed we can catch up with.

Seeing this act of his, Yelshi naturally takes the bait. From the cavalry to the foot soldiers, from the few living soldiers to the near two hundred zombies, his entire army starts chasing Wolfram.

—————————————————————— Novel 15. ch.8 -Mental image-

Wolfram and I, with two little girls grabbing our waists, walk slowly on the uneven stone steps. The salty sea breeze sure feels comfortable.

—————————————————————— Novel 15. ch.8 -Oh, come on! How cute is this!?-

“They did do something like a fortune telling before.”

The one who had his fortune told back then wasn’t me, but Wolfram. But back then not only weren’t they talking about weakening or whatnot, they even said he had a king’s aura, so surely that must have made him happy?

“Is what they say accurate?”

Hearing my question, Wolfram thinks back for about ten seconds, his arms crossed over his chest and his left leg stretched slightly ahead, a hint of a smile on the corners of his lips,

“No, it’s not accurate at all.”

“It can’t not be accurate!”

One of the twins, probably Freddy, seems really angry, and can’t help but protest.

—————————————————————— Novel 15. ch.8 -And the most yuuram arc of them all, end with ... what else? Yuuram-

Just then Wolfram waves at me, so I leave the scene without replying. I really want to throw it somewhere, but I can’t just leave it alone either. That is the sealed, ominous Box that the mazoku destroyed, and sealed. I really want to forget about it, but I think about it with every step, and it presses down on my chest every time I breathe, making me gasp for breath.

“Is your stomach okay?”

As soon as we’re out of Saralegui’s field of vision, Wolfram immediately looks apologetic, even saying,

“Sorry.”

“Oh—That? Oh, right, Wolf, that punch really hurt! Although I was at fault too in the tunnel that time, you were wrong to hit me in the stomach. That is totally DOMESTIC VIOLENCE!”

Although it’s not serious or common, Wolfram looks surprised to hear an unfamiliar term. What a bother, since I’m used to talking to Hazel, I’m starting to use a lot of Earth terms now.

“DOMESTIC… what does that mean?”

“Uhm.... like 'in the country' or a 'product of the country', something like that”

“I already told you many times, I will formally ask for my due punishment once we get back…”

“No need, it doesn’t matter if it’s official or not. Any time”

He’s about to say something formal again so I pat his back hard without hesitation, and it gives me a feeling of reality, like “Ah—right here”. I’m here, and so is Wolfram.

“Because we’re already back.”

We’re all here, Conrad, Murata… Josak too.

“I can’t say for all of it, but I brought us back with my own strength.”

“Yeah”

The sea breeze caresses Wolfram’s hair, and he nods his head firmly. Then he turns around to face me, as I was still standing on the rocky side of the port, and with an extremely natural movement, he extends his hand to me.

“Let's go home, everyone is waiting.”   —————————————————————— Ahh... what a joy of a novel!

[mabsj]

10/01/20

Part 2...

Soo... On the night itself, after done packing our luggage, we depart from our house... We reach B.Point Johor Bahru at around 9.30pm... Traffic at the causeway was quite smooth... Not that heavy... So we grab our dinner, buy some snacks and drinks, pump petrol and top up TnG and check my car engine to lookout any unneccessary problems like leakage or something... Everything looks fine and we depart from B.Point at 10.30pm... The journey took about 3-4hrs drive to our hotel... That is Pacific Regency Hotel Suites... Yeah man... Suites... Because we are staying there for 5days... So its a long rest for me and my family... My intention is we depart the next morning but the check in time is at 3pm and my cousin ask me the day before our actual date check in if we want to go to Genting Highland on the day... So after discussing with my wife and agreeing to it, I make a slight changes... We depart that night... The journey were quite smooth indeed... Except for fast cars overtaking and dark roads but thats normal...

Both my son were fast asleep... Except for my wife... She accompany me throughout my drive... Lots of her topics she talked to me... She ask why I love to drive long trips for holiday, what does it feel and what makes me want to drive up for long trips etc...

Well... I love travelling when I was still a small boy... My dad usually brings our family for holiday trip... KL, Thailand... Malaysia is enough for us... Except for driving... I follow my uncle go for holiday trip... Its like you are visiting other country that is somehow different sensation from Singapore... Places like you seen on TV or advertisement... Amusement park, roller coaster, hotel swimming pool, whatsoever... But sadly, Im not into that type of person... Im into nature... Thats comes to driving... Why I love to drive up for holidays... Many people do say, its gonna be tiring, dangerous, traffic jams here and there, people wont give way to you whatsoever... But its depends on you... Different country different style of driving... My first ever drive up is to Perak... 9hrs journey... And that journey is my cousin(Sadiq) engagement day... We go there with 2vehicles... One is a ownself driving 12seater van, and another one is a car... So I have to seat at the car as a backup... My cousin know I can drive... But if desperate, Im on duty...

But it happend... They each drove like 2hrs each and when it comes to me, its all the way till we reach to petrol station to pump some petrol and to their surprise, I was driving straight 4hrs non-stop... Hahahaha... Its tiring but the fun of you driving while exploring the view of the nature makes your fatigue gone... Thats how my passion of driving up to another country is born... Because when you see, dont matter what you are passionate with, be it a barber, hairstylist, blogger, traveller or reviewer, chef or even housewife or midwife, its your passion and hobby... That thing makes you feel energetic... And some more, their nature scenery is what you dont get to see in singapore city life... You can feel the cold breeze wind, you can feel different air surrounded you, you can feel the environmental is totally different... Why I prefer driving is because, if you take bus of flight, you have to take either bus or cab which is so hard to get or even found one... And you travel where people frequently go... Is where you see on the internet... But when you drive, you see differently... Along the journey you may found beautiful magnificant scenery... That is nature... Where bus or flight couldnt stop or land... You may not found out yourself by internet but you can only found out by the local people... Thats is why I prefer driving myself up...

So continue with the story, we reach the the hotel at KL at around 1am... Quite fast... I could remember I drove 140km/h with just my car top speed only like 180km/h... The name of our Hotel at KL is Pacific Regency Hotel Suites... Sound like luxury isn't it ? Its an quite old hotel... Like maybe 7-10yrs old... Very convenient if you guys were want to go to KL Tower... It just opposite of the building... Just exit the hotel and there it is, the entrance... But sadly our room view is not facing there... We take Deluxe King Suite... Quite spacious but the view could say upon 10, I would give it 6/10... Ahahhaa... Because we didnt get any nice view... But overall the room is spacious... Didnt manage to get take a photo of our room because we are too tired after a long drive... But the room design material is more on business type... The wardrobe, table, is made up of wood... Not sure what kind of wood maybe plywood or something... Or maybe from IKEA ??? Hahahahahaha... Thats so bad of me... Well... Our task is, buy some clothes materials for my wife and kids for their Hari Raya clothes... We finish that task as expected on our 2nd day... Overall rating for the hotel upon 10, I would give 7/10... Why... Because the parking and the room service... The parking we have to pay every single day that is Rm10... Atleast if I were to pay for season parking I dont mind so there's no hassle for me once I park my car in and out... If not I have to wait till the next morning to get an exit paid ticket and have to get new ticket again... Their system is still outdated... But maybe to me they are trying to earn it and update their system to be better... Who knows... Ahahahaha... Continue next.. on part 3...

[esseastri]

Do you have any recommendations for content to consume?

oh man, that’s so broad… Aight, lemme try to break this down… hm….

(if you want to offer specifics, feel free, but for now I’ll hit you up with the Little Bit of Everything Megan Likes and Recs list)

so. Books:

Anything by Alexandra Bracken. I suggest starting with the Darkest Minds and finishing that trilogy first before moving on to Passenger and its brand new sequel Wayfarer, but the two series are unconnected, so feel free. TDM is the singular BEST YA dystopia, and Passenger is a time-travel masterpiece with ships in that makes me swoon just thinking about it.

more kid, less teen, but the Ranger’s Apprentice series is, like, 15 books long and every single one of them is perfect and delightful. There’s archery and coffee and dry humor and good boys doing good things to save their small fantasy version of England while hanging out with fantasy Vikings and traveling to fantasy Japan and y’all it’s really good. It’s my favorite series ever, tbh, I’ve been reading it since I was 13, and it’s kept the standard up this long.

The Chronicles of the Imaginarium Geographica by James A Owen. James is one of my favorite human beings in this world, and his books are brilliant fantasy; there are dragons and airships and Inklings and time travel and parallel universes and Shakespeare and Arthurian legends come to life…and dragons.

Obviously, anything by Brandon Sanderson. Obviously. But I’m trying to give you less-obvious suggestions so I have a higher chance of hitting something you haven’t read yet…

oH Stephen R Lawhead’s King Raven trilogy: it’s a retelling of Robin Hood, but it’s a different retelling of Robin Hood–it’s set in Wales and Robin is Welsh and it’s dark and kinda spooky but there’s magic that’s not really magic and evil Frenchmen and archery (oops that’s a theme here on this list) and a boy growing up to be a man by accident and struggling with leading a rebellion he never wanted and didn’t plan for.

I could keep going but this is gonna get so long…

Movies:

I’m currently obsessed with STAR WARS. I mean, I’m ALWAYS obsessed with Star Wars, so this isn’t news, but Rogue One was REALLY GOOD and there’s 7 other movies to watch before that one, so yes. Star Wars.

Listen, everyone said the Warcraft movie was dumb, but I will fight you: even if you know nothing about World of Warcraft, this movie was just some good, plain fantasy. And it’s gorgeous. And Khadgar is there. Trust me, you will love my smol mage son.

The new “live action” Jungle Book. Again, gorgeously filmed, the animal animation is stunning, and the kid is brilliant. It captures the tone and feel of the original animated Disney movie but adds …more. More depth, more plot, more character development…just more. It’s A+.

Star Trek: Beyond. I don’t even have words for this one, it’s just…The Best. It’s the most hopeful and bright and non-cynical movie you will watch from the past five years, and it’s beautiful to boot. Go now.

Into the Woods. I adore movie-musicals, mostly because I love movies and I love musicals even more, so it’s a perfect combo, but Into the Woods has a fantastic and unexpected cast and it’s Sondheim at his rhyming best, and it’s beautiful despite its darkness, and if you like fairy tales, this is for you.

TVShows:

The Librarians. This one is a little complicated because you NEED to start with the made-for-TV movie Quest for the Spear, but once you’ve seen Flynn at his finest, the TV show continuation is THE BEST. It’s about a buncha nerds trying to save the world from evil people who want to use magic to destroy it/rule it/take over. And it’s FUNNY and everyone is CUTE and the team is a cowboy art historian, an Australian thief, and a synesthete mathemagician, their badass ex-NATO Guardian, and their grumpy Uncle Jenkins. Trust me. It’s the best thing you will watch that’s still airing.

In that same vein, Leverage is the best thing you will watch that’s (unfortunately) not still airing. Team of five thieves Robin Hoods their way through every evil CEO and corrupt one-percenter they can find in order to help the people the big wigs have wronged. Hilarious and with the best character group-dynamics you will ever see. Brilliant and Netflixable.

If you like crime dramas, I can recommend ALL 14 SEASONS OF NCIS. By far the best of the crime dramas, if for no other reason than Leroy Jethro Gibbs exists and is a wonderful, grumpy, coffee-addicted dad of a human being. And it’s also all on Netflix.

The West Wing (also netflix) is a really beautiful way to learn about politics, or rather politics as it should be. Also the characters are magnificent. Yes, all of them.

Video Games:

this is harder for me, because usually I’m the one getting recs but I’ll try:

Journey is a beautiful, small game that had me in tears even though not a single word is spoken through the whole thing. Trust me.

At the risk of beating a dead horse, Bioware games, ie Mass Effect and Dragon Age. They’re huge, and I assume that even if you’ve never played them, you know about them, but honestly, I have to mention them. They’ve sort of taken over my life, but they’re good and worthy of doing so.

And, idk how you feel about Assassin’s Creed, but the Chronicles are…actually really amazing. I hate to call them mini-games, because they’re not, but they’re not quite full-length either. They are three, 2-D adventures connected by the artifact your three main characters are searching for throughout three completely different time periods and places. China was the best, but India and Russia have their moments. I love the mechanics of them, the 2-D giving it a puzzle vibe, and the need to sneak instead of just assassinate makes it both frustrating but exciting, complicated but rewarding when you get through it. They’re super fun. A nice diversion from the rest of the clusterfuck that is Ubisoft. God, I hate that they own my soul.

All right, I hope that helps even a little bit, anon? I don’t know what you’ve already consumed, so sorry if this is all stuff you already know about, but it’s all my Favorite and I hope that at least something is new and exciting for you! If you want to give me narrower specs (genres or media types or something) lemme know and I will attempt to tailor my recs a little better. But for now, this is the Best of the Best imo.

[ebenvt]

Introduction to Bacon & the Art of Living

The quest to understand how great bacon is made takes me around the world and through epic adventures. I tell the story by changing the setting from the 2000s to the late 1800s when much of the technology behind bacon curing was unraveled. I weave into the mix beautiful stories of Cape Town and use mostly my family as the other characters besides me and Oscar and Uncle Jeppe from Denmark, a good friend and someone to whom I owe much gratitude! A man who knows bacon! Most other characters have a real basis in history and I describe actual events and personal experiences set in a different historical context.

The cast I use to mould the story into is letters I wrote home during my travels.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

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*  A note on this letter.  In reality, I have searched for this information for almost 7 years.  I had various clues that such an invention was made, but for years could find no details of it.  When I found it, it was such a monumental occasion that I celebrate it by attaching photos to the chapter which are associated with my best memories of my relationship with Minette, my wife.

Mild Cured Bacon

March 1891

Dear Minette,

It is Sunday.  I arrived in the small town with Andreas and his dad on Friday.  They planned for us to go away for the weekend for some time.  Since we got here I wanted to write, but have been unable.  My mind was numb ever since Friday morning.  I learned exactly what I set out for when I left Cape Town.  I have been dreaming about what I would do if I discover the secret of the mass production of good quality bacon.  That I would write to Oscar, Will, and James first.  Possibly to Dawie Hyman or David de Villiers Graaff, to Uncle Jakobus and my dad.

I sit by the window in my very small hotel room looking out onto the main street of the beautiful town.  I am suddenly very tired.  For the first time in years, I am able to exhale.  It is strange that now that the main reason behind my quest has been resolved that the overarching thought in my mind is not our imminent success in South Africa, or bacon curing or science but it is you. (1)

You are pure and volcanic.  You contain in your being the tempests that lash the great Cape land.  The spirit of every wild animal and bird who makes the Table Mountain range their dwelling is in you.  You are the arch mother of every ancient inhabitant of this land.  The peoples who lived here even before the Khoe of the San moved down.  This position you hold not by birth but by decree of the Ancients!  Suddenly I think of us and the beauty of being with you and sharing the bounty of whatever this great land has to offer.  The quest I am on is meaningful only because I can share it with you and the fact that life was good to me and allowed me to discover the truth behind exceptional bacon at my first port is magnificent.  You are the first person I share this with.  This is not my quest but ours; nor is it my triumph!  It is ours!  Like you, it is grace!

The Industrialisation of Bacon

On Friday morning, Uncle Jeppe called me to his office.  It was only the two of us.  “Eben”, he said, “its time we have a talk.  I have a story to tell you. I know why you are here and will tell you what you are looking for.”  Since I started with him he rotated me between his different departments.  I did deboning to learn the different cuts.  I did meat trimming.  The departments that I liked most was brine preparation, pickling, and smoking.

I walked up the stairs in the very industrial-looking building.  In his office, I settled in the chair in front of his large desk.  He sat forward in his chair and folded his hands in front of him.  He spoke with a heavy Danish accent.   “You will find very few places on earth who cure their bacon the way we do in this factory.  Ya, in Denmark you will, but in no other land. How you ended up coming here, yes, of course, that is a miracle.  You could not have known what I am about to tell you. Few people know.  You came here because your ancestors hail from Denmark and the spice trader in Johannesburg talked you into it.  You told me you and Oscar met him purely by accident!  Of course, this is most amazing!”  “There is one other place where they cure bacon like this.  In Ireland.  The reason for this is very simple.  The invention is Irish!  They industrialized the process!”

“All right, here the information is a bit sketchy but I believe the man responsible for the invention was a proficient chemist, William Oake.  For sure it is reported that he was from Ulster in Northern Ireland.  I was told by friends that mention of mild cured bacon, as it was called, appeared from Antrim, Northern Ireland as far back as 1837.  He probably hails from a place not far from there.”

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Oake industrialised bacon curing and he did so magnificently!   It is, according to Uncle Jeppe, exactly the system developed by Oake sometime before 1837 which we follow in his factory.  The carcass is put on the factory floor which must be made from concrete.  We lightly sprinkle it with saltpeter so that any leftover blood is drawn from the meat.  We then put the meat in curing tanks.  The bottom of the tank is sprinkled with salt.  We call the sides of pork, flitches.  One row of flitches is stacked on the bottom.  We lightly sprinkle saltpeter over them with sugar and salt.  The next layer of flitches is stacked on top of the first but done crosswise.  This is again sprinkled exactly as was done with the first and so it is repeated till the tank is full.

Lastly, a lid is placed inside the tank with an upright on top and pickle is poured into the tank.  The lid and upright serve the purpose of keeping the bacon sides submerged.  The pickle is made as follows:  To every 1Olbs. of salt we add 8lbs. of dark-brown sugar; 1 lib. of spice, and 1/2lb. of sal-prunella.” Sal prunella a mixture of refined nitre and soda.  Nitre is refined saltpeter used in the manufacturing of explosives.  We make the mix strong enough to float an egg; we let it settle a bit and then skim any impurities off before we pour it into the tank.  (3)  This means that saltpeter plays a very important role as does the grade of saltpeter.

It is important to turn the meat over after forty-eight hours into another tank.  The meat that was on top is placed at the bottom of the next tank.  Salt, sugar, and saltpeter are again used exactly as it was done during the first salting.  Now the real trick comes in.  The same pickle is used!  After seven days it is removed and stacked on the floor putting some salt between each layer.  We are careful not to stack it higher than four sides deep, until it has been on the floor for some days when it should be turned over, and stacked higher each time until the fourth week from the day it went into the tanks; the bacon will then be cured.

We then place the bacon in tanks of cold water.  Here it is soaked overnight.  The next morning we wash them well with a brush and hang to dry.  When it is properly dried, we trim it and hang for smoking. (3)  Oake’s invention is probably the stepwise process of repeated light salting which starts as soon as the pig is slaughtered, the use of specially designed tanks, his insistence on a good factory floor, his scientific description of the preservation process, incorporating the steps of the turning of the meat, which was not being done with barrel pork, and the final soaking in cold water.  The last important step in his process is incorporating the re-use of the old brine.”

Uncle Jeppe believes that Oake’s genius was to pull various technologies together that has been developed in various parts of the world over many years and develop a coherent system.  He eliminated weaknesses and exploited strengths. He told me that “when I started looking into the different aspects of curing that is united in Oake’s invention, I wondered what exactly did Oake invent?  It is possible that the entire process of handling the animal from killing to actual bacon is his claim to fame and not any one particular part of the invention.  As is so often with great inventors, they often take information that is out there and combines it in new and useful ways.  This may be the exact legacy of Oake.  He thought through the entire process, packaged it, named it and then advocated it.  To the Irish belongs the credit for this!”

“Friends of mine,” Uncle Jeppe said to prove his point “suggested similar techniques on the re-use of brine to me as far back as 1830.  They wrote that the brine mix must be boiled over a gentle fire for the impurities to rise to the top before these were skimmed off and the brine allowed to cool down.  They reported that such brine is re-used “with advantage”.  Before it is re-used, the old brine must be boiled first and water and the other ingredients must be added proportionately.  This may actually be a report on the process invented by Oake which may take the invention by Oake back to 1830.”

Like a good lawyer, Uncle Jeppe presented his next set of evidence, acknowledging that his first argument may not be that strong since the actual invention by Oake maybe what was described by his friends.  He pulled a document from his bottom drawer.  “Here we have a report on the production of barrel pork which comes to us from 1776.  He read from it carefully and slowly, as if he saw it for the first time and did not want to miss a point.  “After the meat has cooled,” probably after the hair was removed, “it is cut into 5 lb. pieces which are then rubbed well with fine salt. The pieces are then placed between boards a weight brought to bear upon the upper board so as to squeeze out the blood. Afterward, the pieces are shaken to remove the surplus salt, [and] packed rather tightly in a barrel, which when full is closed. A hole is then drilled into the upper end and brine allowed to fill the barrel at the top, the brine being made of 4 lb. of salt (1.8kg or 10%), 2 lb. of brown sugar (0.9kg or 5%), and 4 gallons of water (15L or 84%) with a touch of salt-petre. When no more brine can enter, the hole is closed. The method of preserving meat not only assures that it keeps longer but also gives it a rather good taste.”  (2)

Uncle Jeppe placed the paper on his desk and folded his hands again.  “How closely does this describe what we do in our factory and the mild cure process of William Oake!” “Almost 100 years later, in our time, pressure pumps were introduced to inject the brine into the meat through needles.  A plank would be run across the barrel opening.  The meat is placed on the plank for injection with between one and three needles.  The three needles are fed brine through a hand pump that would pump brine directly from the barrel.  The barrel is half-filled with brine.  After the meat has been injected, it is pushed off the plank, to fall into the brine which acts as a cover brine.  It would remain in the cover brine the prescribed time before it is removed and smoked.”

The Danes are an impressive nation with a thoroughness about them which is remarkable.  I am amazed at Uncle Jeppe’s knowledge of the art.  He has friends all over the world who correspond with him regularly so that he is constantly learning.  It is very impressive and I am honoured to know him!

As I sit here, writing, as tired as I am, I see him sitting in front of me.  I want to write as much as I can today lest I forget something. The next element Oake improved on was the actual place where the curing is done.  Instead of wood, Oake designed special curing tanks and moving away from barrels with its obvious drawback of using wood to cure bacon in and the accompanying problem of insects that inhabit the wood.  The next major improvement was in the design of the actual brine.   The most interesting aspect of his cure is his use of sal prunella.  He used a very pure form of saltpeter.  Not the kind that is used as fertilizer, but the kind that is used to make black powder.  The Irish were, at the time of Oake’s invention, actively experimenting with preservatives in their medical universities. Uncle Jeppe said that he “believes the invention was in part done, because of knowledge they developed on how to preserve human bodies for the purpose of gaining medical knowledge or training physicians. Oake was probably trained by men, proficient in the morbid arts.”

“Apart from the use of sal prunella, Oak used a position proposed by none other than Liebig that the preserving power of salt was not due to the chemistry of salt or some secret power contained in it but due to the fact that it drew out the moisture from meat.  Oake explains that it was believed that salt drew out the albumen from the meat and it is when water comes into contact with the albumen that putrefaction sets in.  The essence of the invention, according to him, is that the meat is cured while the albumen remains in the meat and does not taste as salty as dry-cured bacon. (2)

Uncle Jeppes conclusion is that “Oake’s invention rests, then, on the stepwise process, the use of specially designed tanks and his scientific description of the preservation process which was made possible by his training as a chemist.  This gave his system instant credibility because he was able to describe it in the scientific language of our time.”

The thing about the pickle

The re-use of the brine is absolutely mesmerisingly interesting!  Some of the men working with me on the floor call it the mother brine.  Andreas’ mom tells me that the exact same thing happens when she makes sourdough bread.  They keep a small piece of dough which they constantly feed and re-use.  They call it the mother dough.  In some households, there are doughs of which the age is measured in generations.  In the same way, the bacon or ham brine is reused for many years.  The older the brine, the better!  When it becomes a bit muddy, all you do is to boil it and leave it to cool down.  Let any sediment sink to the bottom and scoop the clear brine off after you remove any impurities that may have floated to the surface.  (5)

Smoking Bacon and Hams

After the bacon has been cured, it is smoked.  I have spent two weeks in the smoking department.  The most important point I learned is to have the smoke as cool as possible before coming into contact with the bacon.  This is the reason why the bacon or hams should hang as high as possible from the fire below.  The floor should be 6ft. 6in. or 7ft. from the ground with only a slight opening between the flooring boards to allow the smoke to make its way up to where the bacon is hung.

The flitches or hams should be hung as close together as possible, but should never touch.  This will allow the smoke to penetrate from every side.  The men who work in the department try and teach me as much as possible so that when I get back to Cape Town, I can build a perfect smokehouse.  They tell me that a small slide can be put in the gable of the smokehouse to regulate the smoke as required. A place should be made in the center of the floor, say 6ft. by 3ft., where the sawdust is placed. This is lighted, and if the door is kept closed there will be no flame, but the sawdust will smoulder and cause a great quantity of smoke. From twenty-four to forty-eight hours will suffice to properly smoke the bacon if the weather is suitable, after which it may be packed and forwarded to market.  Where teatree (Melaleuca) is obtainable it is excellent for smoking; it imparts a flavor to the bacon which is much appreciated by many people.  (6)

Benefits

The new system that Oake developed is much cheaper than dry curing and the bacon is soft and not nearly as salty as dry-cured bacon.  The bacon lasts a lot longer in any climate compared to dry-cured bacon.  The downside of the entire undertaking is the huge capital input that is needed to build such a factory.  Uncle Jeppe told me that I should not be overly worried about this because the Danes has, in his opinion, devised the most perfect way of overcoming this hurdle.

This is exactly what I was hoping to learn from the Harris operations in Calne.  I don’t even know if they use this exact system, nor do I care right now.  The system is fast, cheap and the results are spectacular.  My dad would approve of the quality and this is really all I need.  It is a perfect model to follow back home.  What I have been learning in Denmark is unique.  I thought this is how all Europe is doing it.  The uniqueness of the system blows my mind.

How did it get to Denmark?

Uncle Jeppe sat back in his chair and wiped his one hand over his face.  “Now young man, he continued, how did it happen that this perfect system of bacon production ended up in Denmark before almost any other nation on earth even heard of it?”  As if he really ponders the point he gets up and looks out of the window onto a lush green garden below from his second-story office. He has a conversation with himself.  “A very good question!  Indeed, a very good question!”

“The year was 1880,” he began answering himself.  “Denmark is a tiny nation.  To remain competitive, we realised many years ago that we have to learn as much as we can from other nations and peoples and adapt.  Every industry is constantly looking where new discoveries have been made and how we can adapt.  This is very Danish.”

“Nine years ago, this factory did not exist nor did we know how to make industrial bacon.  We were large dairy farmers and a sizable pork industry developed from the by-products of dairy farming.  it was very simple and profitable.  Raise pigs on the by-products from milk and sell it to England and Germany.  Someone from the pork industry learned about the new mild cured bacon produced in Ireland.  We tried many times to sent people to learn the techniques, but the Irish were careful not to employ the young Danish men we sent over for employment in their large bacon plants.  The thing about Ireland is that the workers often go on strike and how they are treated by the companies they work for is often very harsh.  Those on strike do not get paid and stand a large chance to be laid off.”

“In 1880 there was a strike among butchers in the Irish town of Waterford.  Some shrewd members of the Danish pork processing guild happened to be in Ireland at that time, in Waterford and at the promise of lucrative employment in Denmark managed to persuade a number of the striking men to return with them to Denmark. In Denmark, we quickly arranged for them to train our butchers.  It was at such a training seminar where I learned the art.”

Uncle Jeppe learned the art of curing bacon the Irish way from these Irish butchers and so did many other Danish butchers.  I am exhausted.  This is not the end of Uncle Jeppe’s Friday revelation to me.  How and why the Danish people overnight became the largest curers of bacon on earth is the second installment of this great story.  It is important, particularly to us in South Africa because it gives a model for our bacon curing company.  It is the secret of how we will be able to raise the cash needed to put a factory up to accommodate this exact system.  It is no less important than what I just described.  In not a single point.  Nor is it less interesting.  The story will keep you riveted like a good novel, but my mind is shutting off.  I need rest and will continue tomorrow.  My mind is still racing but I am so exhausted that tiredness is taking over.  I will now sleep well!  After you read my letters, please show them to my mom and dad and please mail them on to Oscar.  How I wish that you were here with me today!  Off all the days since I am gone, I miss you more than ever tonight!

Much love!

Eben

       (c) eben van tonder

“Bacon & the art of living” in bookform

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Note 1:  The actual event was when I visited an English town with Jeppe.  I was sitting at the window looking out on the main town square, writing an email to the kids.  I very homesick and felt that I have achieved my goal being in Egland.

Note 2: The exact quote about the system invented by Oake is, “He discovered that the antiseptic properties of salt were to be found apart from chloride of sodium (salt), and that the obnoxious effects of dissolving the albumen in the curing process could, therefore, be avoided. This is supposed to be the key to the new system of curing. By the new process of treatment, it is said that the bacon and hams, although thoroughly cured with the very essence of salt, still retain all the albumen originally in the meat, and yet do not taste salty to the palate.”  (Molineux, 1898)

Note 3:  “As the carcasses are cut up the portions are laid on the floor of the factory (which should be made of concrete or flagged), flesh uppermost, and lightly powdered over with saltpetre, so as to drain off any blood. It can then be placed in the tanks for salting in the following manner: — Sprinkle the bottom of the tank with salt, then put in a layer of sides or flitches, sprinkle saltpetre over them lightly, and then salt and sugar. The next layer of sides or flitches is put in crosswise, and served in the same way, and so on until the tank is full. Then place a lid to fit inside the tank (inch battens 3in. apart will do) ; fix an upright on top of the lid to keep the bacon from rising when putting in the pickle. The pickle to be made as follows : — To every 1Olbs. of salt add 8lbs. of dark-brown sugar, lib. of spice, and 1/2lb. of sal-prunella. Make it strong enough to float an egg ; let it settle for some time, then skim, and it is ready to go on to the meat.”  (Molineux, 1898)

Explanatory note by Eben:  Note Sal-Prunella is, according to Errors of Speech or Spelling by E. Cobham Brewer, Vol II, published by William Tegg and Co, London, 1877, a mixture of refined nitre and soda.  Nitre, as used at this time was refined saltpeter used in the manufacturing of explosives.

Note 4: “At the end of forty-eight hours turn the meat over into another tank, taking care to put the sides that were on top in the bottom of next tank, treating it as regards saltpetre, salt, and sugar exactly the same as at first, and using the same pickle. It can then remain until the seventh day from when first put in. It can then be taken out, and stacked on the floor of the factory, putting some salt between each layer, but do not stack higher than four sides deep, until it has been on the floor for some days, when it should be turned over, and stacked higher each time until the fourth week from the day it went into the tanks; the bacon will then be cured.

The bacon can then be placed in tanks containing cold water, and allowed to soak all night. Wash well with a brush, then hang up to dry, and when properly dry it can be trimmed and smoked.”  (Molineux, 1898)

Note 5:  “The same pickle can be used for many years — the older the better; it only requires, when it becomes somewhat muddy, to be boiled and clarified. I have seen pickle which had been used in one factory for sixteen years, and that factory produces some of the best bacon and hams in Australia.”  (Molineux, 1898)

Note 6:  “Smoking Bacon and Hams.  The smokehouse should be built according to the intended output of bacon and hams, and the walls of the building should not be less than 12ft. high. One of the principal things in smoking bacon is to have the smoke as cool as possible before coming into contact with the bacon, and to assist this it is well to put a floor 6ft. 6in. or 7ft. from the ground, just allowing a slight opening between the flooring boards to allow the smoke to make its way up to where the bacon is hung. The flitches or hams should be hung as close together as not to touch, so as to allow the smoke to penetrate every portion. A small slide can be put in the gable of the smokehouse to regulate the smoke as required. A place should be made in the centre of the floor, say 6ft. by 3ft., where the sawdust is placed. This is lighted, and if the door is kept closed there will be no flame, but the sawdust will smoulder and cause a great quantity of smoke. From twenty-four to forty-eight hours will suffice to properly smoke the bacon if the weather is suitable, after which it may be packed and forwarded to market.

Where teatree (Melaleuca) is obtainable it is excellent for smoking ; it imparts a flavor to the bacon which is much appreciated by many people.”  (Molineux, 1898)

Note 7:  “Mild-cure Bacon. — In all of the large cities of Britain and the European continent, the public demand is for mild-cure bacon. The system of cure is very simple and perfect, but requires expenditure of at least £1,000 on the plant for carrying it out. By this process the albumen of the meat is retained and is not coagulated, so that the bacon is devoid of excessive salt, is by no means hard or dry, and there is no loss of weight in the curing. A factory costing £2,000 to construct could easily cure 400 pigs per day. The process takes about a month to complete, but after the first day there is no further labor involved.”  (Molineux, 1898)

Note 8:  Quote from Holland, LZ, 2003: 9, 10

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References:

Bacon Curing – a historical review

Fereira, J..  Treatise of Food and Diet.  Fowler & Wells.  1843.  P 109, Sodium of Chloride

The Mother Brine

Molineux, (editor).  1898.  The Journal of Agriculture and Industry of South Australia, Molineux was the General Secretary of Agriculture, South Australia, Volume 1 covering August 1897 – July 1898 and printed in Adelaide by C. E. Bristow, Government Printer in 1898.

Tank Curing Came from Ireland

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Image Credits:

Robert Goodrich and members of the Salt Cured Pig

Photos of Minette and I taken by myself

Chapter 08.01 – Mild Cured Bacon Introduction to Bacon & the Art of Living The quest to understand how great bacon is made takes me around the world and through epic adventures.

[ecotone99]

Mike the Monkey [FN]

Mike the Monkey

Chapter One: Nuts

Any other day it would have been normal to swing around, walk about, snack on 'nanas, and talk about the weather. However, this day, when all was said and done, Mike the Monkey went on a little adventure. He went past the line of trees his mom told him was the boundary, and soon he would find out why she set those limitations. The journey was simple until he came upon something he had never seen before. He witnessed a squirrel eating a strange nut, with a crazy look in his eyes. When the squirrel noticed Mike, he offered him a piece of the football-sized nut. Mike's stomach tingled with nervousness and excitement like he had never felt before. Should he taste it? What if it's bad for me? Those were his thoughts. Well, I'm never in this neck of the woods, why not? That was the thought that followed. He took a big bite and the squirrel scampered away. "Hey where are you going?" exclaimed Mike. No response. He took another bite, dropped the rest, and started to swing his way back home when he felt something foreign. "I feel alive!" he said to himself, seemingly out of nowhere. He began recognizing how green the leaves were and how beautiful his home, the forest, was. He stopped near a stream to enjoy the beauty of the magnificent waters. Then he swung the rest of the way back home. Except, Mike didn't feel so fake. It felt warm and Mike relaxed his body as his mind raced. The next day Mike went back for the nuts that made him feel so alive the day before. Matter of fact, he went back for fourteen days straight. Each time becoming higher and deeper into what the neanderthals called, enlightenment. He began to go a little crazy, talking with bumblebees and running with the deer. Maybe he wasn't crazy at all, maybe he was exactly where he needed to be when he needed to be there. Next, in an attempt to rid his mind of the racing thoughts via physical exertion, Mike hopped in a river in an attempt to swim upstream. This worked, but only for a moment. He was being washed down the river rather violently. He attempted to latch on to logs but that didn't work. He was headed straight for a waterfall. With a last-stitch effort to not be flushed into a pit of more freshwater, Mike held onto a branch hanging near the waters. The branch screeched and snapped. Down the waterfall he went. The next thing Mike knew, he was in bed. He ached horribly all over. Bruised and battered but luckily he was alive. Friends and family visited him over the next few days. Finally, his uncle, who saved him from drowning came to visit. 'I've been following you, I ate the nut when I was your age... Keep fighting the good fight." Then his uncle vanished along with everyone else. Mike went into a deep sleep and when he woke, he had stories to tell.

Chapter 2: Freddie the Frog

"The first one goes something like this," announced Mike, sitting up in bed.

Freddie the Frog grew up jumping from lilipad to lilipad. Eating bugs and flies with his brothers and sisters. Freddie didn't realize it, but since day one he was a better jumper than his siblings and cousins. He would hop over lilipads, similar to how humans skip stairs when they run up them. "Hey Freddie, you've got some serious hops, I'm gunna enter you into the Amphibian Olympics this summer." This made Freddie anxious and he trained and trained. The day came for the competition and he was mad nervous. He threw-up his breakfast. When it came time for his turn to jump and compete, Freddie was nowhere to be found. His brothers, sisters, and cousins searched, but couldn't find him. He was disqualified from the Olympics. Freddie tuned up a day or two later. "Where the hell have you been?" "Well, I came across a toad and he taught me how to meditate so I've been meditating,' responded Freddie. "Turns out I'm not meant to be an athlete, I just want to live in peace." After that day, Freddie was careful to jump on every lilipad in his path, not skipping any anymore. "I just want to be a frog." Years later, Freddie competed in the Senior Olympics and won the silver medal. He didn't regret a thing and went on to train the most elite frogs in the swamp.

Chapter 3: Manny the Martian

"This next one hits a little closer to home for me... or is it further? Well here goes."

Manny the Martian was wondering around his home turf of Mars when a space bird told him he should visit Earth and that he might like it. "They have things called trees you can swing on, instead of walking around all day." What fun would that be, he thought, but he obliged and took a trip to a forest in Brazil. He was confused at first until he met a female monkey who taught him how to swing from branch to branch. High to low, low to high. He loved it. When it was time to go back home he took some tree seeds with him so he could plant them on Mars. He had to wait twenty years or so but it was worth it. His female cohort visited him on Mars and they had children together; teaching the young monkeys how to swing high to low, low to high, all across Mars.

Chapter 4: Rex the T-Rex

"Holy monkey man, that sounds kinda crazy. Kinda futuristic right?" Mike asked himself. "Anything is possible so these are all realistic. Here goes Rex."

Rex the T-Rex was red and had green spikes running down his spine. Rex was the type to make sense out of interesting points of view; he knew right from wrong. One day, Rex met up with his pals and they went swimming with the Loch Ness Monster. They came across a treasure chest and found necklaces and rings. Rex put four or five of the necklaces together to make one big necklace that fit around his neck. He was super cool now. His buddies did similar things, one making a dozen rings into one big gold tooth. When Rex returned home to his wife and no kids, he asked his wife how he looked. "Disgusting!" proclaimed Rex's wife. "You look like one of those damned neanderthals, take that off!" But Rex kept it on. He went to the bar the night to sip on some shark juice and he got all types of compliments. "Where'd you get that?" asked a velosa raptor. "Can't tell ya, it's a secret," replied Rex. They played pool and partied until the night was over. Walking home alone a giant bird-like creature swooped down and stole the necklace. Rex couldn't reach for it with his tiny arms. When he returned home, his wife asked, "What happened to your awesome necklace?" "It got stolen... wait, you liked it?" "Yes I did" she said and Rex went to bed hoping that one day he could earn another cool piece of bling.

Chapter 5: Barry the Bear

"That was something huh?" remarked Mike, " I'd like to think Rex went back and got some more jewelry but didn't show it off this time."

Barry the Baritone Bear was not your average bear. He moved with the winds like a bird and bellowed the entire time he moved. Only when he wasn't moving was he silent. His dad, a monotone-speaking bear, was a beloved writer among his peers. He and a female bear made Barry in the woods after Barry's dad wrote a piece of his soul. He called it, "Once a Bear, Never a Bear." It was very introspective and made up in a way he wanted it to be taken. The other bears didn't pay much attention to it. They called it "egotistical" and "selfish." He later called it, "Barely a Bear." Barry went on to sing in a choir and always had the solos. And because he had to be moving when he sang, his biggest fans were birds. Little did he know, he was a bird.

Chapter 6: The Rabid Rabbit

"Barry was a bird but still hung out with bears to soak up knowledge and use it in his songs. Barry wrote of heart-ache and evolution of all species he observed. This next tale, not so cushy," announced Mike

There once was a blood-thirsty rabbit. It ate cats, deer, and snakes. The only thing that ate it would be a bear, or so I thought. The rabbit would go into its hole, plot, then come out and enter deer dens and feast on the does and bucks. When out in nature, one can observe the rabbit eating grass, just waiting for a blood-having animal to enter its territory. One day, a human caught the rabbit and caged it. It would eat crickets and lizards. However, one day the rabid rabbit bit off the owner's finger. From that point on, the owner used steel gloves to deal with the trapped beast. The owner knew she shouldn't let the rabbit back out into nature. This went well until one day, one of the lizards got the upper-hand on the rabid rabbit. The lizard ate the rabbit and became blood-thirsty itself. The owner released the rabid lizard into the woods near her house. She was done dealing with these monsters. The lizard went back to its old ways and only ate bugs and smaller amphibians. Living the rest of its life in the wilderness eating rabid rabbits and he taught his offspring to do the same.

Chapter 7: Jake the Snake

The ex-owner of the rabid rabbit and rabid lizard couldn't sleep well knowing of these beasts. She regretted letting the lizard go but all was well because the lizard had morals.

"Okay, so..." Mike began. He slithered through the medium-high grasses to get to the stream. Jake the Snake was thirsty and also looking for a quick meal. This meant scavenging across the grasses for a mouse or something. He didn't really care, anything would work that day. He hadn't eaten in almost seventy-two hours and was ready to fill his belly and rest up. He knew what it would mean to come across a family of mice and take away what he could. It meant hurting a family and that was exactly what he hated doing. See Jake grew up eating grass and rice. His dad introduced him to live prey and his mom left his father because of it. She was a healer and couldn't stand the sight of her son's ways. Jake was ready to begin something different. After one final mouse, he told himself he would never do it again. Eat live prey. Grass is living too but it doesn't have a soul like something with a heartbeat does. Grass may have a soul but that's a topic for a different discussion.

Chapter 8: Dollie the Platypus

That was it. Jake digested the mouse and just like that he was on to a new. Or so he thought. Another seventy-two hours later and he was back to craving live prey. He knew better but did he have what it takes or did he give in to temptation? "I'd like to think he changed but at the end of the day, he was a snake, and snakes eat mice."

Dollie the Platypus performs every weekend night. She does flips and handstands and elaborate juggling. Come to find out, Dollie wasn't raised to be in the circus. She was raised to be a sign-language interpreter for musicals. She would always have the crowd laughing though, distracting the audience from the musical. She was let go from that career and then went on to join the circus. She made friends with Henry the Hamster and Jennie the Lion. Everyone loves her performances and you can catch her every weekend night as she travels across the globe with her friends.

Chapter 9: Ron the Rhino

"That was a little more light-hearted than the previous, wouldn't you say?" asked Mike as he shrugged.

Ron the Rhino grew up with a normal life like all the other rhinos. They traveled, fed, and played together in their youth. However, when he was growing into the adult rhino he was destined to be there was one minor hiccup. Ron's horn never got any bigger. It was just a couple inches long. All the other rhinos thought it was funny. They called him names like, "baby horn", "little horn", "rhiNO horn", to name a few. Well, one day they were feeding together and Ron had had enough with the name-calling and bullying. He wrestled and pinned down one of the hecklers and poked him with his horn. Ron, nor the other rhinos knew he had that aggression in him. The other rhinos were scared of Ron after that and because of it, he was named King of the Rhinos.

Chapter 10: Hector the Butterfly

"Mad respect for Ron, I wouldn't mess with him... No way" proclaimed Mike. "Here goes another one of the tales I came across."

Hector the butterfly was only an eager caterpillar when this story began. Every bug has its own individual story, even if they don't know it. Hector was born with dozens of other bugs and resided in the poop he was born near. It was in a vast forest in the middle of a country. He, like his comrades, branched out and crawled into the woods. Some of Hector's unlucky siblings were swooped up by birds. One day, Hector ventured a little further than usual and met another caterpillar named Cindy. They feasted together and decided that no matter what, they would remain friends through their upcoming transformation. Time passed and Hector transformed. The summer sun shining brightly with reds, pinks, and greens. He looked and felt great but had forgotten all about Cindy. One day, he met a moth that smoked grass. She was downright ugly but Hector was drawn to her laid-back and cool demeanor. They went on adventures together, day and night. Then, one day, Hector re-united with Cindy near a stream. They said their hellos but were clearly on separate paths.

Chapter 11: Sharon the Waffle Iron

"Or were they on the same path? Time will tell and they continued moving with mother nature through all the seasons." said Mike.

Sharon the Waffle Iron makes the best waffles. She never complains but does get a little dirty. She had been working one day on a batch of chocolate chip waffles when she suddenly turned off. The owner unplugged her and kept her downstairs for years after her malfunction. One day, the owner's son came across Sharon, even though out-dated, he decided to plug her back in. What a shame, she sleeps through one waffle and gets banished to the basement for a dozen years before getting resurrected. "Think that's bad? Wait til you hear about her cousin, Igor the Iron."

Chapter 12: Igor the Iron

Igor was at worst, a bad iron. But at his best, he made the most perfectly creased pants that there are. One day, Igor threw up and spat water all over his owner's khakis, making him late for work. Banished to the garage for twelve years. Then, he was given to Goodwill to be bought by a man who used Igor to straighten his ties. The new owner was dating Sharon the Waffle Iron's owner. They moved in together, the two resurrected irons together now. One for making waffles, the other straightened his gay owner's ties. They lived together for a while. To this day as a matter of fact. The irons witnessed thing they could never un-see but at the end of the day, they were happy to be put to use.

Chapter 13: Kenny the Kangaroo

"Having a purpose in important, don't you think? I'm just glad I have these stories to tell you," Mike said. "Thanks for tuning in."

Kenny the Kangaroo had lots of friends. Mostly bears, but they didn't want to eat Kenny because he brought them joy. He would dance for them, sing for them, and even cook for them. That was until one day, one of the cubs got reckless and hungry and decided to eat Kenny. Kenny had a daughter, years later she went on to be a doctor. One day, a sick bear came into her office and confessed, "I ate a kangaroo when I was little, I didn't realize the pain it would ensue on my family, leaving them depressed... I ate our joy." The kangaroo-doctor prescribed medication and the bear went on to have his own offspring. When he told them stories, they would always end with, "Don't kill what brings you joy."

Chapter 14: Benny the Burrito

"A little dark, I know, but the deeper message is, don't kill at all, regardless of the effect that being has on you... Anyways."

Benny the Burrito sat in the freezer for two weeks before his owner pulled him out. Before that, he was in the back of a grocery delivery van for three hours. Before that, he was in a warehouse for three days. He had a lot of friends, other items knowing that their doom was getting close. Food lives for death... That's what brings them joy. For some reason, they were all a little anxious to find out what life was like after being digested and pooped out. Spending their dying days telling stories and reliving the days when they didn't know what food they'd be eaten with or what drinks they'd be digested with. Benny was quiet. He didn't have any parents but had tons of cousins who were born at a similar time than he was. Anyways, today was the day Benny would be introduced to the afterlife. He was eaten with celery sticks and a cup of milk. Now his brothers, by way of poop buddies, they got eaten and digested within twelve hours. In the afterlife, they were flushed to a nearby dump where they met other poop. All of them with similar stories but there was one in particular that had stayed in tact. It was made with corn and the corn was still whole. "I was just a burrito, now I'm poop," announced Benny.

Chapter 15: Chris the Chandelier

"Gross I know," Mike confessed. "This next ones should brighten things up."

Christopher the Chandelier was super fancy. Starting from one single diamond, she blossomed into a wonderful chandelier. Overseeing everything in the Smith's home. She was never ashamed to shine so bright. She even sparkled a bit in the moonlight. One day, one of the Smith's sons had a party and Chris got shattered by some drunk teens. How reckless... Didn't they know Chris was worth thousands? They hit her with bats until she was down to her last diamond. The diamond stayed in tact, the son threw out the drunks, and he used Christopher's last diamond to put into a ring. He used it to propose to his girlfriend six years later.

Chapter 16: Enrique the Lobster

Enrique the Lobster grew up near the shore of Los Angeles. He had many crab friends and some lobster friends that he's known since he was a little guy. Born and raised by his mother, his father left the nest but left him with many blessings. Most of which confused Enrique. "Why would this guy leave us before even meeting us?" "He did it because he loved you guys," the mother told Enrique and his siblings. "Oh well," he thought. "Now I get to live out my own journey." Hoping one day he would reach his father and make him proud for leaving the nest. The rest is still up for grabs. Enrique's out there somewhere searching for his dad but his dad didn't want his son to feel that pain. They communicated telepathically and his father said, "Find a nice female, get her pregnant, and you'll see where I'm coming from." Enrique did just that but still felt the need to be near his new family. "I love my little guys, I will never leave them." He taught the little guys games and just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, he swam away. Leaving his family and now in search of a deeper meaning. Never realizing he left everything he needed. Pray for Enrique, he could use it.

Chapter 17: Henry the Giraffe

"I'd like to think he figured his was out of the mess he's in... Enrique will be fine, I promise... So will our next character," announced Mike the Monkey.

Henry grew up in what the middle of what the ecosystem called, 'the twilight zone'. In 'the twilight zone', giraffes got sacrificed in order for the other animals to feel something emotionally. There wasn't any hunting during this time so they needed some way to promote positivity and what better way then by killing off the beloved giraffes. The thing about it though was they never really died, they just went to Brazil to live in presumed Heaven. They started a religion there by promoting happiness among the little ones in Brazil. Henry got taken to Brazil and there he met the love of his life, Ezra. Ezra was born and raised here. A purebred just waiting for her giraffe in shining armor. When Henry arrived he still thought he was going to be killed but instead, it was the opposite. Henry had everything he ever needed- good food, good vibes, and a good female. If only the giraffes back home knew how good it was here.

Chapter 18: Chester the Trampoline

"Brazil kinda sounds like Heaven, wouldn't you say?" Mike asked. "Couple more to go."

Chester the trampoline was jumped on by kids from all over the neighborhood. He would never jump back because he knew what it would mean if he did. He would take his beatings, sometimes five to six kids at a time. One time he sported a net around his edges, protecting the kids from getting hurtb ecause one day a kid got double-bounced and fell off. The owner limited it to three kids at a time after that. Through all seven of the years, Chester broke only two springs. One time a kid jumped on the springs, didn't get hurt, but that popped the spring out of place. He allowed all types of monkey business. Another time a kid who collected bouncy balls brought his collection into Hector. They loved it. The balls were even happy. Giggling kids made Chester the happiest. Then, when the kids entered high school, Chester was dismantled and sold on eBay. The owner bought a new toy, Mike the Moped.

Chapter 19: Thank You for Tuning In

Now that all was said and done, Mike began living his life again. He reminisced on the days he would hang around with his buddies. Mike was a new monkey. With all the knowledge gained, Mike was ready to settle down and find a female. Her name was Heather. Heather was known for being a little promiscuous but Mike didn't mind. They tamed one another and could almost read each-other's minds. When Mike was happy, Heather was happy. But when Mike was sad and caught up in the past, Heather would be there, just happy enough to be in the presence of her favorite monkey, Mike.

"I don't regret anything, ever," announced Mike. "Without those nuts and that fall, I wouldn't know what such enlightenment meant." Mike was grateful for everything, especially the words from his uncle. "Keep fighting the good fight, but..." Mike modified, "with a dash of love."

Now our final story from the author, himself.

Chapter 20: Lenny the Lamp

Lenny the Lamp was in a trance as he waited to be picked up from the store. He was staring at the inside of the box, hearing all the people in the store discuss their purchases, when a man picked him up. The man used him as a bookend until one day, his Grandson asked what the lamp was all about. My Grandpa didn't have a real use for the salt lamp anymore and Matt would use it to its full potential. It heard Matt's dreams and even his nightmares. I just turned off the salt lamp AKA Lenny and I know the gift from my Grandpa will be there when I lay down tonight. Grateful and thankful for family and friends.

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[myminilens]

Gwalior, named after saint Gwalipa, is a small city, though there is a lot to see. I went there unplanned and not with a lot of hopes, but returned with tons of memories, surprises and amazing experience of the city, that is a great example of – a combination of ancient and modern.

Read: Gwalior – A City With Music in its Soul

Here are 16 places you must visit in Gwalior

1. Jai Vilas Palace & Museum

Built in 1874, by Maharaj Jayajirao Scindhiya, this stunningly beautiful grand and gorgeous royal palace having 3 gates, 35 rooms and Asia’s largest hall carpet, is the current residence of the royal family of Gwalior.

The two 12.5m-high, 3.5-tonne chandeliers with 250 light bulbs, are the pair of 3rd largest chandeliers in the world. There is a story that, 8 elephants had been suspended from the Royal Court Ceiling to check if it could cope with the pair of chandeliers.

In other interesting things you can see: Stuffed tigers, cut glass furniture, ladies only swimming pool with its own boat ( that why the palace was named JAL VIHAR), wall paintings and a beautiful Archway nearby. One of the most interesting things here is the model railway with a silver train that used to carry after dinner drinks and cigars around the table.

2. Man Singh Palace

This imperial-style palace is one of the more unusually decorated monuments of India. You cannot stay unnoticed of the outer walls include a frieze of yellow ducks and mosaic tiling of elephants, tigers, and crocodiles in blue, yellow and green.

Built by Tomar ruler Man Singh between 1486 and 1516, this is a fine example of early Hindu architecture consists of two open courts surrounded by apartments on two levels. Below ground lie another two levels constructed for hot weather, connected by ‘speaking tubes’ built into the walls, and used by the Mughals as prison cells. The ticket counter is opposite the palace, while another ticket counter nearby you can buy tickets for the ruins of Shah Jahan Palace, Karan Palace and several other dilapidated palaces in the northwest of the fort.

3. Gwalior Fort

Perched majestically on top of a 3km-long plateau overlooking Gwalior, this fort doesn’t need introductions. Made in 8th-century, this hilltop fort is an imposing, eye-catching sight, with the circular towers of the dominating Man Singh Palace ringed with turquoise tiles.

4. Gujari Mahal 

Built by Man Singh, for his most loved wife, in the 15th Century, used to be beautiful. Time has left its marks on it now. It houses the State Archeological Museum and its large collection of Hindu and Jain sculptures, including the famed Salabhanjika, an exceptionally carved female figure, and copies of Bagh Caves frescoes.

5. The Chhatris 

You will find these beauties in formal gardens. Built between 1926 and 1932, with Mughal-style pavilions and Hindu Style Sikharas (temple-spires), these are magnificent walk-in marble inlay work structures, facing each other across a pool with a criss-cross of walkways.

6. Jain Rock Sculptures

Mostly cut into the cliff face in the mid-15th century, they represent the great 24 Jain Tirthankars ( Jain teachers). They were defaced by Babur’s Muslim army in 1527 but have been more recently repaired.

The most inspiring Jain sculpture is the figure of Neminatha, the 22nd Tirthankar. You would be astonished to see the 30 feet figure of the seated Neminatha, with a symbol of a shell on a pedestal. The tallest Jain sculpture in Gwalior is noted for its rigid posture and rounded form. You will be amazed to know that, these were excavated in a short period of time – the Year 1441 – the year 1474. For this perfection, must say its a very short duration.

7. Scindhiya School

Founded by the late Maharaja Madho Rao Scindia of Gwalior in 1897, as the Sardar School. renamed The Scindia School in 1933, as it evolved into a public school, is a boarding school for boys only. With a teacher-student ratio of 1:12. The school has one of the advanced IT facilities. Situated in Gwalior Fort, it was started exclusively for nobles and princes of Royal families, particularly the Marathas, though no discrimination now.

8. Gates in Gwalior

It’s not only Delhi, which has Gates,:). Gwalior is known for its gates too. From the east, a series of gates punctuates the worn steps of the path leading up to the fort. Let’s take a tour :

Gwalior Gate also know as Alamgiri Gate, is the first gate in this series from the eastern approach to Gwalior Fort. Built-in 1660 and named after Mughal Emperor Aurangzeb, it leads to the Archeological Survey of India museum.

Bansur (Archer’s Gate), was the second gate, doesn’t exist now.

Badalgarh Gate or Hindola Gate is the third, which has been named after Maharaja Man Singh’s uncle, Badal Singh Tomar. Its a wonderful example of Hindu architecture.

Bhairon Gate used to be next, then comes,

Ganesh Gate, having a small tank, a pigeon house ( Kabutar Khana ) and shrine of Saint Gwalipa.

Hathiya Paur Gate, is the sixth gate in the series, is now the entrance to the palace grounds.

Hawa Gate, used to be the seventh gate and the entrance to the palace grounds has been demolished.

Urvai Gate, is the first if you enter the Gwalior Fort from the western side. For me, it was the last in the series.

9. Gurudwara Data-Bandi-Chor Sahib

GURUDWARA SHRI DATA BANDI CHOR SAHIB is situated in the Distt City Gwalior in Madhya Pradesh (Central India) It is situated on the hilltop in the Fort Gwalior. The famous, gold-topped gurdwara dedicated to Sikh hero Guru Har Gobind, who was imprisoned in Man Singh Palace from 1617 to 1619, is one of the must-visit places of Gwalior.

Temples you will find in your way :

10. Gwalipa Temple near Ganesh Gate.

Chatarbhuj Mandir, a temple of Lord Vishnu with Garuda at the gate is near Hathiya Paur Gate.

11. Shiva and Parvati Statue :

Near Uravi Gate, you will see a beautiful statue of Shiva and Parvati dating back to the 7th century. Another sculpture of a reclining mother and child is not to be missed.

12. Saas Bahu Temples:

A Mayan Like structure will pull your attention automatically, but its not Mayan. Its Saas Bahu Temples ( Mother-in-Law and Daughter-in-Law Temple ) date from the 9th to 11th centuries. The bigger one with four gigantic stone pillars is Saas Mandir, dedicated to Lord Vishnu, and the smaller one, Bahu Mandir Daughter-in-Law, dedicated to Shiva, is fully stacked with sculptures.

13. Teli ka Mandir:

Teli ka Mandir is dedicated to Lord Vishnu. Built in the 8th century is 30 meters high and is the oldest and loftiest surviving monument in the Gwalior Fort compound.

This is believed to be constructed around 850 AD, during the reign of Mihira Bhoja, the Pratihara king. It is a combination of Nagara and Dravida style of architecture along with a touch of Buddhist architecture styles. Gopuram is of Dravidan style, whereas the temple base is in Nagara style of architecture. Extensively carved outer walls of the temple with its excellent sculptures are a rare treat to the eyes.

You must know that this temple was used as a drinks factory and coffee shop by the British after the First War of Independence of 1857.

14. Sun Temple :

The Sun Temple, Gwalior is a replica of the famous Konark Temple in Orissa. A must visit especially during early morning hours for a peaceful environment.

15. The Sound and Light Show at Gwalior Fort

Narrated by the Amitabh Bachchan, the famous sound and light show, Son-et-Lumiere brings the legend of Gwalior to life. It is held every evening at the beautifully lit Man Mandir Palace. You can enjoy it for just Rs.10 if Indian citizen and Rs.150, if a foreign tourist.

16. Tomb Of Ghaus Mohammad

Ghaus Mohammed was a 15th-century Sufi saint. He was an Afghan prince who later became a Sufi. He was the teacher of musician Tansen. The Tomb of Ghaus Mohammed is the best example of Medieval Mughal architecture design. The tomb has a gorgeous look with its mind-blowing architectural beauty and stone carvings.

Other places to visit, includes Tomb of Tansen, Madhav National Park, Rani Laxmi Bai Memorial.

– Alok Upadhayay

  16 Must Visit Places in Gwalior Gwalior, named after saint Gwalipa, is a small city, though there is a lot to see. I went there unplanned and not with a lot of hopes, but returned with tons of memories, surprises and amazing experience of the city, that is a great example of - a combination of ancient and modern.