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moldygreenblue · 13 days

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Regarding the WIP names you posted, "Can I Have ONE Normal Idea" sounds very intriguing to me ;)

@gellavonhamster, you picked the most wild of all wips from the list:

“Nice work, lad.” The way ‘lad’ was drawn out made Duke uncomfortable. There’s a radio crackle, and then a long sigh of relief.

“But it’s time to end this little masquerade,” continued the voice. No longer it sounds like the friendly, concern, baritone man from before. It sounds like nothing, as well a bit tired. It’s like the man on the radio had forgotten how his real voice sounded like. “And masquerade is a word which Lemony Snicket —the real Lemony Snicket that is— would probably define as, ‘A lie someone can fall for with either little or no amount of force.’”

“I say using a code phrase is contradictory to that.”

The man ‘tsks’ several times. “Was that phrase ever spoken when you volunteer your assistance for justice regarding the death of a sweet young child?”

Duke didn’t answer. All he does was grip the radio tighter in his hands. The entire room began to shake violently.

“A human being, even one that is genetically modified in a laboratory, is like any other animal,” continued the man. “If it wants something enough, it will do anything at all. You, young man, wanted to do good in this watery-hellhole. You volunteered yourself in a task of self-righteous justice. All I did was gave you a push in the right direction.”

Another violent shake. Duke stood firm where he stands.

“Considering everything, I owe you a little honesty. The name is Hangfire.”

so. context: this wip is from an asoue/atwq and bioshock fusion-crossover fic i was working on awhile back. in it, most of the snicket-verse characters take the place of bioshock characters; only two bioshock characters are in the au.

bioshock is a first person shooter with horror/sci-fi survival elements video game series. in the first two installments, it's about an underwater city known as rapture that gets torn due to a civil war that started on new years. by the time of the games, rapture is well on its way to being ruined and dead for good.

in the first game, you play as jack, a young man whose plane crash into the ocean and ends up entering rapture, where he must survive the horrors with the help of the man name atlas, the leader of one side of the civil war mention before, over the radio. atlas has a wife and child and he asks jack to help save them, but they get kill, and long story short atlas gets jack to go kill one andrew ryan, the ruler of rapture, and the leader of the other side.

at a very pivotal moment, which this fragment wip is inspired by, jack learns a few things. the most important things related to the snippet:

a. atlas isn't real. atlas is instead the disguise of frank fontaine, a rival to andrew ryan who faked his death in order to take control of rapture.

b. jack is a hidden agent for frank fontaine, with the phrase 'would you kindly' getting jack to do as told without question.

the fusion-crossover snippet here has:

armstrong feint/hangfire in the role of frank fontaine/the fake lemony snicket. the real lemony snicket is alive and around in rapture in his own story that is loosely inspired by the second game.

duke, an original character, is in the role of jack. duke is a bit more talkative (a hell lot more actually; jack is your typical silent protag), and well, let's say duke has beef with hangfire after this.

i'm sorry for the delay respond; i had trouble trying to figure out WHICH part of the wip to select because only fragments of the fic is actually written; most of it is just summaries of events and lore/world building to blend the snicket-verse elements with the world of bioshock. so i put it off and did other stuff (re: the widdershins and olivia friendship post on my side blog). picked this because while major spoilers, it's the best of the snippets i do have written.

#ask #replies #gellavonhamster

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moldygreenblue · 14 days

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got tagged by @gellavonhamster for two different games and after some deciding, i decided to do tag game two

in a new post, post the names of the files in your wip folder regardless of how nondescriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet and tell us about it! If you don't write, list your art wips

because i found a few word docs that even had me going '???' until i opened them up and went 'oh yeah, i WAS working on it awhile back and stopped working on'.

wip 1: Can I Have ONE Normal Idea

wip 2: The One Where Everyone Finds Out

bonus: two wips from word docs that hold completed fanfics (i be writing in any word doc) but fit the bill here

Familiarity

it's like you and me are lovers

uh...i don't know who to tag maybe @sillyfudgemonkeys you do make edits and i think it fits the bill of the tag game to a degree (you don't have to do it though if you don't want to)

#tag game

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moldygreenblue · 15 days

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I don't know anything about baseball

Bonus:

In case you can't read my shit handwriting:

Nanjo: having the time of his life

Naoya: wishing he was at the casino

Mark: Doesn't know the fuck hidehiko wants

Brown: Asking Mark for gum so he can look cool

#the p1 boys play baseball...i feel it would be a disaster (reiji opt out for a reason i bet)#edit: ASDFKL WAIT HE"S THE MASCOT (he opted out but at what cost)#the art is so good op #persona #persona 1 #megami ibunroku persona #kei nanjo #naoya toudou #masao inaba #hidehiko uesugi #reiji kido

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moldygreenblue · 18 days

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An Account From The Man Over There

(In which I decided to write a Cats musical fanfic where the beginning of the Jellicle Ball is shown from The Man Over There's perspective.)

Thomas did not have a good day today. What makes it worse is that he knows it could have been a good day. And a good final work day would be the perfect start to his days off.

His penultimate appointment of the day was for a new patient; a dear little cat name Euthymia, or Mia for short. Mia has the biggest eyes Thomas has ever seen on a cat before. She was also the sweetest, compliant cat he cared for at the clinic. Mia is very much like her owner in that regards. Mrs. Covey is also kind and sweet. Both of them are a matching pair, and Thomas wishes they were the last appointment of the day.

But they weren’t.

The less Thomas thinks about the final appointment of the day, the better. He doesn’t want to think again about how the pet owner believed a cat could survive a no-meat diet. He doesn’t want to recall how the owner told him shamelessly about switching their cat’s diet without asking a vet about it. He doesn’t want to think about how lost his cool, and how he barely kept his job.

As Thomas slumps down to the floor, his back right up against the door, he sighs. He’s tired and hungry. But he doesn’t want to finish his leftover takeout from yesterday.

Thomas instead decides to go to sleep early.

Thomas stands back up, and goes to his bedroom. He strips out of his clothes, remaining only in his boxer trunks. Picking up his trousers, Thomas reaches into the right pocket and pulls out his keys, setting them on his nightstand. And after setting his alarm for eight-thirty, Thomas flops stomach-side down onto his bed. He can throw his clothes in the hamper tomorrow morning.

Thomas rolls onto his backside, and stares at his ceiling. He stares, and soon eventually finds himself drifting off into sleep.

When Thomas wakes up again, the first thing that he hears is soften sounds of unexpected meowing and screeching from outside his bedroom window, where the nearby junkyard is. While there is the occasional cat or two (or more; Thomas once when sick counted the number of cats there, and counted seven) at the junkyard, the noises never get on his nerves.

Until now. And Thomas is not happy.

I already had a bad day yesterday, thinks Thomas. This isn’t what I need now.

Thomas groans as he gets out of his bed, rubbing both of his eyes. He soon finds himself staring at the racks of shoes near his closet. With an idea flashing into his mind, Thomas walks towards the pile of shoes, and picks up his good boot from the top rack.

Thomas then goes to his bedroom window. He slides open it up, and chucks the boot out.

And there’s nothing. It’s just a beautiful silence.

“MEOWMEOWQUEENMEOWOFTHEOWMENIGHT!”

“Oh for—”

Really? thinks Thomas. They didn’t scatter and leave? Well, that’s just great! Just great! Now I’m missing one boot. Why the hell did I threw my good boot? It wasn’t cheap!

Thomas slams his window close, and quickly goes back to his closet. He grabs one of his pajama bottoms and a knitted pullover, putting them on as fast as he can. Thomas then grabs his keys from the nightstand, slips his feet into a pair of slippers, and rushes out of his bedroom.

Thomas leaves his flat (but not without locking it; he’s not risking anything), and makes a dash to the junkyard. The quicker he finds his boot, the quicker he can go back home and get whatever shut-eye he can get before his alarm rings.

As Thomas approaches the junkyard, he can still hear the screeching and meowing. It’s louder than before, and more in sync, like a choir.

Now, when Thomas bought his flat from Mr. Faber, he was told the junkyard nearby is forbidden. No one can enter, unless they have a key. And Mr. Faber has the only key in existence. However, Thomas over time in his observation discovered that there is a way inside: through a broken fence piece at the entrance gate, located by the street lamp.

Thomas never thought he would enter the junkyard, especially by sneaking in. There’s a first time for everything, perhaps. And upon entering the junkyard —breaking into the junkyard— Thomas couldn’t help but think something is feeling…off.

He only took a few steps, but Thomas thinks that everything gotten bigger. A lot bigger, as if he shrank in size. And he thinks this more and more as he continues walking, realizing that it’s taking longer to walk to the center of the junkyard, where he knows his boot landed.

It’s at this point does Thomas realizes something isn’t right. Something about this night is wrong. The earlier meowing and screeching are gone. Instead, Thomas can now hear a group of people singing. And they’re singing. About cats.

“Romantical cats, Pedantical cats

Critical cats, Parasitical cats

Allegorical cats, Metaphorical cats

Statistical cats and Mystical cats!”

“I don’t think one can be metaphorical, cat or human,” mutters Thomas.

“Political cats, Hypocritical cats

Clerical cats, Hysterical cats

Cynical cats, Rabbinical cats!”

Thomas finally approaches the center of the junkyard. And he stops. He stops and carefully crouches behind something. A hat-box. He’s crouching behind a giant hat-box.

This can’t be real, thinks Thomas. This has to be a dream.

Thomas crouches behind the giant hat-box, and sees it. He sees it, and can’t believe it. It’s impossible, yet he’s witnessing it right before his very eyes.

Right before his eyes, Thomas sees a group of cats dancing and singing. The cats are singing like humans, and they look like humans. They resemble humans in stylize and detail costumes that are feline-like, fitting for a mega musical. The cats are dancing together in sync, their voices in unison. Voices he can understand; Thomas wonders anytime he was tipsy on a near or full moon and heard cats —or rather, one particular cat— speaking wasn’t his imagination.

“Jellicle songs for Jellicle cats

Jellicle songs for Jellicle cats

Jellicle songs for Jellicle cats!”

And out of everything to be thinking about in this moment, Thomas wants to know of one thing:

What is a Jellicle cat? Nothing of what I heard earlier actually define it…

Thomas makes the mistake of letting go of his hold of the hat-box. He slips and falls onto the ground of the junkyard. Thomas quickly scurries to hide again. If there’s a chance that one of those cats heard him falling—

A brown-greyish tom cat rushes to the front of the junkyard center. He slightly resembles the frail-looking cat who used to visit The Victoria—Gus. Gus is also incidentally, the cat who Thomas now wonders could speak all this time. But Gus is to use human terms, a senior. The cat up front of the junkyard center, is middle-age. Older than Thomas himself, perhaps.

“There's a man over there with a look of surprise,

As much as to say, ‘Well now how about that!’”

Thomas slowly sulks to the ground. He was not only spotted, he got ratted out, and he got ratted out through song. Thomas likes a good musical. In fact, he even participated in one in his younger years. But Thomas isn’t sure how to feel about being sung to in this particular context…

A younger silver-grey tom cat soon joins the other cat. He looks quite puzzle. And exasperated.

“Do I actually see, with my own very eyes…

A man who's not heard of a Jellicle cat? What’s a Jellicle cat?”

“What's a Jellicle cat? What’s a Jellicle Cat?”

Thomas doesn’t like the smirk on the brown-greyish cat’s face as the question was ask.

Despite being against all sense of logic, Thomas instead of running away from the preoccupied cats and their question, he decides to walk closer to the center of the junkyard. Closer to them. What in the world lead to his current predicament?

Oh right, thinks Thomas, smacking his hand directly onto his forehead. The BOOT. The BOOT that I THREW AT THEM.

Thomas is certain he hears a soft chuckle from one of the cats. It sounds very male. Thomas wouldn’t be surprise if the chuckle came from that cat from before.

The clowder of cats is now in a pyramid formation. They’re all staring him dead in the eye, ready to sing again.

There are so many different cats in the formation. Different colors, different markings, and different patterns, or having no patterns at all…they are so many. One of the cats is on the older side. She has white and golden fur, and a woven collar. The collar looks soft to touch.

The cat looks identical to Anne’s cat, Apricot. Anne could never make Apricot a permanent indoor cat. Anne always said that Apricot comes and goes whenever she felt like it…

“The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,

It isn’t just one of your holiday games;

You may think at first I’m as mad as a hatter

When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.”

The cats are once again in unison. But they are not singing, not really. They are all speaking low and solemn. The solemness in their voices matches their equally solemn faces. What they’re saying together sounds like a chant. It’s…terrifying.

It’s terrifying to hear this unexpected hush chant. It’s terrifying to hear the chant, feeling the many pairs of eyes on him. It’s terrifying to know that they’re looking at him due to being an outsider, looking inside a world he doesn’t belong to, and should never have learn.

This night is certainly going to be a different night from all others.

“First of all, there’s the name that the family use daily,

Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo, or James,

Such as Victor or Jonathan, George or Bill Bailey—

All of them sensible everyday names.”

But what if one has a sister and she name her cat after a fruit, thinks Thomas. Apricot is a sensible name, sure. But it’s not exactly a formal name like the ones they just mentioned.

“There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,

Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:

Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter—

But all of them sensible everyday names.”

Well, that answers my previous question, thinks Thomas.

“But I tell you a cat needs a name that's particular,”

The collective of cats moves towards him suddenly. Thomas quickly walks backwards, and falls back on the ground. He quickly scrambles backward, hoping to feel something hit his back.

“A name that's peculiar, and more dignified,”

He feels nothing. Just the cold air of the night.

“Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,

Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?

Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,

Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,

Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum—

Names that never belong to more than one cat.

But above and beyond there’s still one name left over,

And that is the name that you never will guess;”

The pyramid formation breaks apart. The cats are separating into three sections. But they are still surrounding him. Do they think he’s going to attempt an escape? Thomas doesn’t think he even has a chance to escape at the moment.

“The name that no human research can discover—

But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.”

One of the cats, a pure white cat with the most expensive jeweled collar Thomas have seen before, suddenly leaves her section. She slips away near the back and sits, staring into space.

“When you notice a cat in profound meditation,

The reason, I tell you, is always the same:

His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation

Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:

His ineffable effable—”

The white cat is now on her tiptoes.

“Effanineffable

Deep and inscrutable singular name.”

As the cats continues to whisper ‘name’ they all start to disperse. They disperse, and disappear. It’s now just the white queen and him in the junkyard. She’s standing up, prepare to dance. The spotlight —Thomas isn’t sure where it came from, as well as the music that he hasn’t commented on until now— is all for the cat.

It’s a very interesting dance solo. Thomas isn’t sure why the cat is obsessing with her foot. But Thomas admits that there’s an air of elegance to her dancing. It’s very similar to how a ballerina dances. The grace that she has reminds Thomas of a ballerina friend he had back in his university days.

A cat residing the pipe —he’s a tuxedo cat— soon sprints out. The spotlight gotten bigger and brighter. The tranquil music of the white cat’s solo is now livelier, and jazzy.

“Jellicle Cats come out tonight

Jellicle Cats come one come all:

The Jellicle Moon is shining bright

Jellicles come to the Jellicle Ball!”

As the tuxedo cat sings and dances along with the white cat —both of them are smiling, having a nice time together (very much how siblings who are having fun and enjoying the same shared activity), the rest of the clowder reappears.

“Jellicle Cats come out tonight

Jellicles come to the Jellicle Ball.”

The silver-grey tom cat from before makes his way up to the front. To where Thomas is at.

“Jellicle Cats meet once a year

At the Jellicle Ball where we all rejoice

And the Jellicle leader will soon appear

And make what is known as the Jellicle choice.”

Oh! There is a reason why there’s a clowder of cats at the junkyard tonight, thinks Thomas.

“When Old Deuteronomy just before dawn

Through a silence you feel you could cut with a knife

Announces the cat who can now be reborn

And come back to a different Jellicle life.

For waiting up there is the Heaviside Layer

Full of wonders one Jellicle only will see—”

As the silver-grey cat raises a paw...hand into the air, the rest of the cats —all have been dancing together again, all in the formation of a circle— are looking upward to the night sky. The white cat is in the center, and is also raising her hand into the air.

The silver-grey cat also sticks up his pointer finger, emphasizing that yes, only one Jellicle can go up to this Heaviside Layer. No exception.

“And Jellicles ask because Jellicles dare…

Who will it be?”

“Who will it be?” repeats the rest of the cats.

As Thomas feels the hard stare of the silver-grey cat, he decides on one thing:

He is going to have to embrace the unexpected weirdness of tonight.

He has a feeling that it’s the only way to keep his mind intact.

#cats musical #cats the musical #cats 1998 #fan fiction #fanfic #the man over there #i wrote only the beginning since that's when tmot is the most active in the musical #i do have ideas for other numbers though but idk if i'll ever get to writing them bc the concept is cool and i want to explore it #but i'm not sure if they'll actually work. so this fic for now is all it will be

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moldygreenblue · 21 days

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All Alone

IMPORTANT NOTES: There is implied racism and implied period-typical racism (late 1970s/1980s period because I headcanon so), mainly in the second half of the fic.

[Know that if eternity dies out]

It’s not every day Rina can spend a day with her Uncle Ryutaro. More often than not, he’s always flying back and forth between Winnipeg and Vancouver for work. But whenever there’s a day he can stay around, they always have a great time together.

It’s too bad Grand-Mère’s goonies have to follow them though.

Rina isn’t sure why Grand-Mère’s goonies watch over them, hawking around in the distance. Uncle Ryutaro was family before he married Duchess Sabine. Uncle Ryutaro was family before Duchess Sabine became Mother; aunt is the proper term for her and Rina’s relationship, but she insisted to be call Mother, for it would be Rina who will inherit the Duchy of Winnipeg.

She should ask Grand-Mère about it one day. Or Mother. Or Uncle Ryutaro himself. But today is not that day. Today, Rina will have fun with Uncle Ryutaro. And today’s a special day. They’re in the City (by the Bay), visiting Mother. Mother is still sadly attending a meeting with the Count. So, for the time being, it’s just her and Uncle Ryutaro, spending the afternoon together.

Again, it’s too bad Grand-Mère’s goonies have to follow them. Rina wouldn’t have even known they existed if it wasn’t for Uncle Ryutaro pointing them out to her one day. He always calls them kurokos; the ‘invisible’ stagehands clad in black. Only they’re not, at least not to Rina.

“Uncle Ryutaro! Look!” Rina quickly takes her uncle’s hand, and drags him to the inaccurate distant solar system model, inside the Milky Way Galaxy exhibit. Rina can hear the necklace Uncle Ryutaro wears jingling around.

Going to the Titania Space and Science Center is what Rina can call a special treat. Back home, Rina loves looking at the constellations and planets through her telescope. Grand-Mère is constantly telling her that she’s wasting the night away with an impractical hobby, but Uncle Ryutaro and Mother says she’s simply traveling the galaxy in a pure safe matter.

Rina drags Uncle Ryutaro until they reach the end of the solar system, where an inaccurate size model of planet Pluto stands. The model is reddish brown, and there’s a unique feature that she never saw in other solar system models back home: it has a small heart shape region.

Rina briefly looks up at her uncle, and stares at his necklace. His necklace is like any normal necklace with metal beads. But what stands out most to Rina is that it has a key. It’s a silver key that has a heart shape bow and wing shape shoulders. Rina looks back at the model, and sighs dreamily, holding her hands together with a smile. “Aww. Pluto has a heart, just like your key! It would be cool if Pluto does have a heart shape region on her surface.”

Uncle Ryutaro crouches down slightly, so the two of them are on the same eye level. He then clutches the key. “That would be something. Of course, we’ll only known for certain when we can finally reach Pluto. Be it a space probe or an actual human being in exploration. Until then, Pluto will be out there, waiting for us to visit her at long last.”

Rina’s soon frowns, and drops her hands to her sides. “That means she’ll be waiting for years. For years and years, she’ll be all alone, and unable to share her heart with all of us.”

Uncle Ryutaro grabs ahold of her hands, and he speaks softly. “It’s possible, Rina. Pluto has Charon as her companion, but sometimes, a companion can still make one feel as if they’re by themselves. There are always circumstances that one feels utterly all alone.”

Rina opens her mouth to ask how it’s possible, but Uncle Ryutaro glances sideways, and stands up. His eyes are fuel with anger, and his brow is all scrunch up. Rina turns her head towards where her uncle is looking. There’s a janitor pushing his cleaning cart, a teenager jamming to music on his Walkman, a small group of preschoolers with their teacher, and two goonies in black and dark sunglasses quickly focusing their attention to the asteroid models.

“Those kurokos are really starting to get bolder with each outing,” says Uncle Ryutaro. As he leads Rina away with his right hand, he rubs the key with his left hand. He speaks softly, talking more to himself than to Rina. “Can’t I have an outing with my da-darling niece? It would certainly be pleasant if they get suddenly distracted. Long enough for us to make an escape from them.”

CRASH!

Rina quickly looks back to see the jamming teenager inside the janitor’s cleaning cart, his legs sticking out from the bin. As the janitor tries to get the teenager out, the goonies in black are on the floor. The small group of preschoolers are running around them in circles, with the poor teacher trying regain control over them.

Rina turns back to Uncle Ryutaro, and stares at him in awe. The key has magical powers!

[I’ll keep standing here, all alone]

Even though her lecture was done, R decides to stay around at the Orion Observatory. Being open to public as an observatory and renovated space museum, R wants to be there as a simple visitor, and not a public known lecturer. It’s a good thing R always keeps a simple disguise kit on hand: sunglasses that block the majority of her face, and a giant brim sunhat.

It's not the Titania Space and Science Center, but the Orion Observatory has its own perks. It’s new, it has the latest information approved by both the Meteorological and Astronomical Societies, and best of all, it wasn’t burn down in a fire that now reduced it to a pile of ashes. Why bring it up? For that what sadly happened to the Titania Space and Science Center.

R walks over to Milky Way Galaxy exhibit, making her way to the end of the solar system model display, her key ring jingling on the belt of her skirt as she moves. From her observations, it seems that the only person at the exhibit is herself. That’s good; it makes the chances of getting recognize drop down tremendously; from slim picking to zero.

R leans down slightly to look at the information plaque card. She makes a small ‘tch’ and frowns as she reads it: Understand that despite Pluto’s model being on display, we do not consider it a planet; we are incapable of removing the model without removing the rest. We hope you enjoy the rest of your visit and time at the Orion Observatory.

“At least wait for an official statement for Pluto’s planetary status,” mutters R, as she ‘tch’ again. “This is certainly a terrible offense I can’t forgive.”

Why! My dear Rina! The sudden nagging voice sounds remarkably identical to Grand-Mère. R takes a sharp breath in. I didn’t think an adult like yourself still considers Pluto as a planet.

I only said they should wait for an official statement, replies back R to the nagging voice. With the debate still ongoing, it’s best for to wait on the conditions that makes a classification of a planet. Great. To think R is having an argument with herself that takes after Grand-Mère.

When Mother died way back when, due to R’s young age, it was Grand-Mère who helped R into her new role as Duchess of Winnipeg. She was R’s instructor, the self-proclaim protector to the Heir Apparent until the time came. She was everything R needed, but not what R wanted.

True. But what if it’s decided Pluto shouldn’t be classified as a planet, hmm? What then, dear Rina? ‘Grand-Mère’ is truly out to rile her up, huh?

Then I’ll accept Pluto is no longer a planet, and whatever new classification bestow on her. R soon guides her hand to her key ring, and plays with one key in particular. It’s a silver key that has a heart shape bow, and wing shape shoulders.

You’ll accept it? What a contradict! You haven’t even acceptance the truth about your upbringing, Rina. You’re still honoring Ryutaro and his cigar box of secrets. Ryutaro is a damn bastard! If he just left your mother as I asked, you would gotten a true well-adjusted upbringing. You would have been the fortunate adopted foreigner child of not one, but two blue bloods!

Even as a nagging voice in the deepest part of R’s subconscious, ‘Grand-Mère’ crossed the line. R grips tightly onto to the silver key. The broken-off engagement with the Baron of Arizona is something Grand-Mère never forgave Mother for. Oh, she said she did, but Mother refused to be in the same room with her for more than twenty minutes. For hers and Ryutaro’s sake.

Ryutato…how he truly wanted things to be different for them all. For R. R closes her eyes, and she instantly sees Ryutaro on his bed, pale and weak, saying words that has R’s head spinning. To think he was willing to make another sacrifice for her future as Duchess of Winnipeg.

For your information, I have accepted the truth. I accepted it when Ryutaro told me I could hate him. He told me I could hate him like how much you hated him, for getting in the way of Mother and mine’s so-call perfect life, but I of didn’t. And you know why? Because who forced Mother keep her engagement with that Baron before creating the piss-poor ultimatum? Who forced Ryutaro to remain in my life, but never granting him the honor of being who he truly is to me?

‘Grand-Mère’ doesn’t reply back.

“Finally! I thought she would never leave.” R soon exhales slowly, and opens her eyes. She can still feel her tight grip of the silver key in her hand. R looks down at the key, and thinks of a fond memory from long ago.

She thinks how one cannot help but love someone. How one cannot help but also suffer for love. She thinks how if one can’t go admit the truth, you’ll keep standing there, all alone.

R slowly release her grip of the silver key, and stares back at the model of Pluto.

#asoue #a series of unfortunate events #the unauthorized autobiography #fanfic #fan fiction #i got creative with the breaks for this fic

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