#(( everything you do is Wrong and Not Miranda and you will not understand why

[jaynovz]

I'm watching 1.7 and the break in Flint's voice when Gates is questioning him in the stable and he's like "I'm trying to answer the question" is devastating. The facial acting that Toby is doing here is like, he does great body language here and the trembling voice and nervous swallowing and darting eyes, you can see him trying to stave off some kind of extreme anxiety attack. Because. Like. God the flashbacks he must be having to London and Hennessey and Alfred Hamilton. Anyway, what he is saying just gets more and more desperate throughout the exchange, but legit he is trying to level with Gates the only way that he can in this moment. There is no version of Flint right now who could tell the whole truth, bc of his background, bc of the trauma, bc of what happened last time he trusted someone like that. So when we see what appears to be a mental BREAK, and he tells Gates his vision of sequestering a portion of the Urca gold for the future of Nassau and their men, that's him trying to explain his motivation the best way he can.

And the worst part is, he just sounds crazy and meglomaniacal and Machiavellian and DERANGED. It's exactly the wrong thing to say to Gates at that moment, they have already broken apart, it's too little too late, it's ten years too late!! Gates is hearing a lying maniac being conniving and cold and awful about Billy. But tbh, when I hear Flint say "He fell. Why? What do you think happened?" I just hear someone that WE KNOW doesn't know in his heart of hearts WHAT HE DID, WHAT HAPPENED, and he just... it would be easier if someone just told him.

I know we joke about Flint being full of SHIT, and he is in MUCH of the show, he does SO MUCH LYING. But this entire exchange doesn't feel like that. It feels like he's cracking and reaching and grasping and trying. And he has no earthly idea what path he would even take to get Gates back on side.

Gates says, "This is what we do. You orate and you dissemble and I look the other way..."

And the saddest fucking part, the most tragic of the tragedy is that HE'S NOT WRONG. That is what they do!! and it's. It's over! It's too much!

But poor fucking Captain, he just... He doesn't know how else to be.

And with regard to SilverFlint, and their arc... I've been thinking this go round about why it's different from Flint's relationship with Miranda or with Gates or with anyone...

And, well... It really is just a case of finding deep understanding from a person you never expected, isn't it?

At first it is extremely begrudging, because he doesn't have another choice, unwilling allies due to strife. But eventually it does becomes voluntary.

At its core, I think the reason that relationship is different, is because that becomes clear to Flint over time, and then he is able to offer up all the sides of himself to be further collated and understood.

And then faster than the speed of fucking light we get to 3.10 and 4.9: "You asked me where I began, and I felt that you were entitled to an answer. To the truth." and "I cannot do it without you." Silver says, "We might be friends by then" and by fuckin god they ARE. "As my partner as my friend" and "You know of me all I can bear to be known. All that is relevant to be known. That is to say, you know my genuine friendship and loyalty." So, what I've been circling is... sitting down in the woods and just telling Silver everything that happened in London is exactly what he can't do with Gates in 1.7 :////

[fantasy-relax]

Sweet alpha Dangerous Omega

Part 1 Part 5 Part 6

She knew that her dear Cassandra would make the right decision as soon as her heat ended, however Alcina couldn't kill you, in three months her daughter would go into heat again and she would continue to have them all her life. Mother Miranda had already told her how harmful it was for an omega to go through heat alone, while the company of the family lessened the symptoms over time, they needed a mate, although an alpha was the basic inclination if there was a deep emotional connection a beta or even another omega could be good partner.

But Cassandra had never shown interest in sharing her heat with anyone and Alcina would never force her. When they began to get worse, she turned to Lady Beneviento for medicine, but the mutation that her daughters had accelerated their metabolism, what they took was burned off in a couple of hours if they were lucky or minutes in most cases, the rapid change caused more pain than benefit so it was better not to use it.

Company was the best option, her sweet Daniela brought in a maid who had been favored by Cassandra in the hope that she would be accepted at least as a temporary partner. Five minutes passed before the lifeless body was thrown out of the room, a broken neck fast and effective.

Alcina could only listen helplessly to the grunts and sobs of her daughter for the last three days that her heat period lasted.

That's why she couldn't get rid of you, despite how much it irritated her to admit it, your presence had brought great relief to her daughter and in the same way your absence had seriously affected her.

So, she had to put up with you, your chivalry and obedience when dealing with her pup helped a lot.

“Our Pup needs time and space to make a decision”

“She already took it, this peasant will only be a pet to deal with her discomfort, end of the story”

Ignoring the Beta's comments, Alcina looked at the alpha who was looking at the ground with her head lowered.

“Poor pup”

Frowning in irritation, Lady Dimitrescu speaks firmly.

“Pay attention when I speak to you, beast.”

Your posture changed, but your eyes were still on the floor.

"That was fast"

Alcina rolled her eyes, dismissing the unnecessary concern of her beta, who was too soft on you just because Cassandra's omega was too, both useless instincts.

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

“Pay attention when I speak to you, beast.”

You raised your head and stood firm, keeping your eyes glued to the floor, showing that you were attentive to what was being said to you, but without being impertinent, an action learned thanks to your mother.

You didn't understand why you weren't dead yet, you failed again, Cassandra had been clear to her displeasure, you weren't worthy of being her mate.

You took a deep breath, trying to hold back your tears. It was enough with your alpha's cries echoing in your head.

What did you do wrong?

You just followed the omega's wishes.

Comfort and company were what she wanted, so that's what you gave her.

You took care of her, you gave her everything she asked for, you obeyed her orders and she was never dissatisfied with your actions during the heat.

Still, it wasn't enough.

Why are you never enough?

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

“Because you have proven to be useful for my daughter's well-being, I have decided to employ you, so from now on you will live here as a mating companion for her, you will have a room separated from the other maids, the moment a complaint about you reaches my ears, I assure you that I will make you regret it for weeks, Bela will be in charge of you, out of my sight."

Bela approached you when her mother went back to review her papers on her desk, for a moment she thought you were going to complain, but you remained silent.

“Follow me, I'll take you to your room.”

The medicine had accelerated your healing allowing you to walk without any problem, your nutrition was something that would take longer, you were not starving, but it was obvious that you weighed less than you should, you reached her chin something to be expected since alphas tended to be tall with an ease in developing muscles, there were alphas in the town who were taller than her, but how different was it with women or was it your poor diet that affected your development? What was biology and what was it by circumstance?

Well, there is good place to start her studies.

"Miss Bela?"

"Actually, is Lady Bela or Mistress. Remember that, now what it is?"

“Is there anything I can do instead of uh being a heat partner? I just don't think Lady Cassandra wants my company... she has already been clear with her decision."

You avoided looking at her eyes and even tried to make yourself look smaller, everything about you showed submission. Could it be a learned behavior? Had you really lost all desire for dominance?

“In the town i also worked as a lumberjack and carpenter. I know how to hunt too, could I work like that?”

She thought about it Relia complained about the lack of experienced labor, in addition to the fact that at her age she already needed an apprentice to relieve her and the majority of the workers under her command did not reach her standards, perhaps you could serve, the traps you had Installed were excellent and the cabin you lived in while old was in good condition, she had to admit that you had some skill.

"You will be Cassandra's mating partner, there is no way out or change in that, however, having you do nothing for three months is unproductive, tomorrow I will give you a tour of the castle and I will take you to the groundskeeper so that she can give you work. Rest for today."

Again, it seemed like you were going to contradict, but you kept quiet, entering the room with her.

“Your bed, the closet has some uniforms, but I'm not sure they are your size. Anyway, tomorrow we will also go to the seamstress to take your measurements. You have a personal bathroom. You won't use the communal for obvious reasons.”

Approaching you with one hand she lifted your face, you continued to avoid looking at her.

“You are the only alpha in the castle, there are unbonded omegas and betas, step over the line and you will be punished appropriately, am I clear?”

You nodded and she let go of you.

“I'll come as soon as the sun rises tomorrow you better be ready.”

She left you alone in your new home.

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

“Really, Cassie? You finally find someone that your omega accepts, you have a romantic and intimate moment only to throw it all away seconds after your heat ends, I can't believe it."

Cassandra felt the pain in her head increase as she listened to her sister's complaints as if it wasn't enough to have to deal with her omega's complaints. At least Daniela's voice was silenced by the bathroom door.

“You hurt our alpha, you were cruel and rude!”

“She's lucky I didn't tear out her throat.”

“Alpha did her job well and you despised her again!”

“The cowardly bitch didn't even give me a kiss with tongue.”

“Because it wasn't what we needed!"

“The only thing an alpha is useful for is sex, that's what I wanted but the useless bitch didn't have the courage to do it.”

“WE WANTED COMPANY, WE WANTED SOFT TOUCH AND CARESES THAT WOULD BEAT THE COLD IN WHICH WE HAVE BEEN TRAPPED ALL THESE YEARS, ALFA DID IT WITH FERVOR AND ADORATION AND AGAIN YOU DENIED HER THE APPROVAL SHE WANTED.”

“I DON'T NEED ANY OF THAT, YOU ARE THE WEAKEST PART OF ME, YOU ARE THE ONE WHO CAUSES ME MISERY AND PAIN BECAUSE OF YOUR STUPID NEED TO HAVE A PARTNER”

“WE WISH ONE!"

“IF YOU WANT IT SO MUCH, WHY DID YOU NOT CHOOSE ONE YEARS AGO?”

“EVERYONE WAS UNSUITABLE WE FINALLY FOUND THE ONE WHO IS PERFECT FOR US AND YOU DON'T DO YOUR PART”

" MY PART? YOU ARE WHO-

“Well, what does it matter, it's Bela's property now.”

What?

“What the hell are you talking about Daniela?

"She said that she was interested in her and was going to ask Mother for permission to keep her in the castle under her supervision. Surprisingly, Mother accepted under some conditions, they are talking to her now but in the end is her problem now."

“Like hell she is, she's mine, I found her first.”

“You threw her out, you lost the right, but if you want to fight for your lover-”

“Fuck it, that bitch is of no use to me.”

"If you say so"

She doesn't care, she doesn't give a fuck about you, you are a pathetic starved dog willing to lick the food thrown at the floor, you are only good for a quick fuck but you are such a fucking coward to do it.

Bela can do whatever she wants with you she. doesn't. care.

Now if her omega will stop whining.

[thewritersaddictions]

Drabbles: Karl Heisenberg- Avoid You

You've been ignoring Karl. Like not talking to him during meeting, not laughing along with his horrible jokes, daring yourself to not look at him. It's rubbing him wrong. For weeks now, sure the two of you were close. You were close with everyone, Mother Miranda loved that about you. Her perfect new little daughter.

Alcina, Donna, and you got along with Alcina’s daughter did. Quiet banter between the two of you about flowers, and gardens that you wouldn't wait to help grow during the much warmer months.

Salvatore is like a little brother that you always wished you had. Always asking to do things with you whenever you have the time. But Karl is different, your relationship with him is just odd. Something you can't really place in your mind, or heart.

You live with him for fucks sake. Of course something had to be happeneing between the two of you. Was that one sided you wished not, but you also know Karl. He isn't about relationships, he doesn't do love. He's a loner and it just that simple. You wonder in moments when the life between the two of you becomes very domestic, if he knows how you watch him with a love that makes your heart beat so fast you swear you've died and come back to earth.

You wonder a lot of things, but for you to keep living you have to push him away. No more can you bare to sit with him as he works on his metal army. You can't bare to talk with him as you sit across from each other with dinner each night, so you've opted to having dinner behind your close bedroom door, staying out longer with Alcina, staying to help Donna with a new project, or helping out Mother Miranda and Salvatore.

Anything you can do to push away the feeling that has taken root in the bottom of your stomach. The sicking love that makes you have butterflies whenever Karl looks up at you with that damn cigar tucked between his thick lips.

Karl has noticed, more then noticed. He doesn't understand why all of the sudden you were here and now you'd rather not talk with him, spend time with him.

Hell you're picking others over him. At first he's boiling with anger. He feels like he's not worthy of you, he's gotten so used to your constant loyalty to him.

He feels you drifting away from him, and he's conflicted by it. He worries it's something he's done. He notices the far off look on your face at meetings. He see's how you can't bare to look at him, or talk to him.

Karl can only go on like this for so long before everything just cracks, and the need for answers comes out fast, angry, and rather unplanned.

He catches you when you come into the factory after another night spend not here, not at home. Karl had waited for you, stayed up and it wasn't like he wasn't already awake. Never ever really getting good sleep nowadays.

"Y/n?" He says your name, and it makes you stop in your tracks. You turn on your heels unable to look at him so early in the morning. You were just coming here for a shower and a new set of clothes before you had to get over to Mother Miranda lab. You bit your bottom lip the feelings in the bottom of your chest starting to bubble up. Your silence prompts Karl to walk towards you.

"Y/n, what's…" A rough hand taking hold of your bicep. His large hand wraps around it fully. Middle finger and thumb touching each other as he whips you around to look at him. For the first time since you arrived at the factory. "Please just talk to me… I can feel the fuckin' tension in the goddamn air." His voice is thick, purr like.

Grey eyes asking for something anyting you can give him. He'll take it even if it's the worst of the worst. If it ends with you walking away from the factory forever walking away from him forever. He'll just grin and bare it. You think of words, anything to say to him, but nothing of worth comes out. Just blubber, "Karl I… you have to know… I'm just…" He stares down at you. "Fine… don't tell me." Karl is acting like a child and he knows it, so do you.

He drops his hold on your bicep and just looks at you. There's a sort of sadness you've never seen in the grey eyes before. "I don't know how to… Karl things would just be…" Your thoughts are scattered in the wind as Karl realizes a few things. He's more confused then he's ever been. By his mind, and his heart. Karl also realizes that you won't ever say the truth until he gives you no other option.

"Why Y/n, just why have you been avoiding me? Huh, you don't even… you used to spend all your time with me. You just picked up and left." There's a sadness in his voice. His normal bombastic voice that echos on the steel walls. It breaks your heart, crushes it in a million tiny pieces.

There's concern, and sadness etched into the strong jawline, and lines in Karl face. You want to hold back your thoughts, but you can't bare their weight anymore. You take a deep breath Karl watches you like a hawk. Mustering up strength and gusto. "BECAUSE…" You start, Karl cocks a brow, "Because why, Y/n?" Karl coaxes you, "FOR FUCKS SAKE KARL, BECAUSE I THINK… FUCK I THINK I'M FALLING FOR YOU, OKAY?" You didn't mean for it to come out as a scream, or to shout at him.

"That's why I've been…" "Avoiding me." Karl says finishing off your senetence. You nod, frustration and the weight leaving your body. You're waiting for the ending of it all for the loud voice to scream at you, but it the exact opposite that happens. Loud sounds of his boots hit the ground as he walks over to you. Grabbing you so you look at him, eye to eye. "Y/n, are you serious?" He asks, biting his own lip.

You nod, and his face controts in seconds. The seriousness changes into a love sick, cocky grin. 'Fuckin' hell then, darling why didn't you say something sooner?" You can't help the bitch face that you give him, Karl laughs. "Well if it makes it any better darlin' I like I'm fucking falling too." Karl mutters before pulling you in to his chest.

He leans down, a hand in your hair as he leans down to reach your lips. You stand on the tips of your toe just to barely get to his lips. His beard tickles your cheeks, and chin. But the kiss is life bringing, makes you tingles in the best way. And when Karl asks for entrance to your mouth you let him have it.

Completed on: 08/10/23

Posted on: 08/30/23

House Heisenberg-

[shogvnate]

GODS & MONSTERS. yan! re8 ladies x reader.

general yandere headcanons + snippets pt 1.

contains; mother miranda, mia winters.

warnings; extremely toxic and unhealthy behavior, broken mindset, body mutilation on miranda's part, potentially triggering content, yandere. you've been warned.

⸻ 🐦‍��� mother miranda

obsessive, stalker, and training type

arguably the worst.

other than how to revive her deceased daughter, her thoughts revolve around you, you, and you. It drives her absolutely insane that she's drifting from her original plans of marking you as just another one of her failed experiments.

you can never feel alone, no, not with her being lovesick.

her crows are always watching, always listening.

she knows everything, don't try to hide anything from her, it never ends well.

she despises disobedience, no one wants a darling who's rebellious, no?

at some point she'll definitely break your mind, it's unavoidable, basically.

rarely ever affectionate, shows her love in other extreme ways such as giving gifts (eg. putting a golden bracelet still attached to a severed hand in front of your bedroom door for your 'anniversary', wrapped in the guts of the lycan who attacked you earlier that week), and of course, words of affirmation.

she truly does love you in her own sick and twisted way, but oh, darling, she's too far gone to save.

"don't deny me. worship me, acknowledge me as your one and only savior, and you shall find what you need," her smile was like a blank canvas, begging for someone to add value to it. it made you sick the more you think about it.

because she didn't want no simple mortal.

she wanted you.

miranda drowned herself in the way you gazed at her numbly, twirling a lock of your hair in her clawed fingers. "anything you could ever possibly need will be with me."

how you hated her smile.

⸻ ❄ mia winters

removal, isolating, and manipulative type.

mia doesn't like it when you smile at anyone other than her. she doesn't know why, but she loathes the feeling of being ignored for someone who clearly doesn't fit the standards for someone like you.

she goes to unhealthy measures to make you stay by her side. gaslighting, threats, guilt tripping, you name it.

someone asking you out for lunch? they didn't show up for lunch and they never talk to you again.

gets scolded by her peers due to her constantly being in your shadow and controlling everything you do but she shrugged them off.

most of the time she's not aware of how she's acting like she can't breathe without you being in the same room as her but when pointed out by you, she usually apologizes.

physically affectionate, too physically affectionate. so much so that she comes off as smothering.

unlike miranda, she can still grow and change as a person so you have hope…?

"mia, this isn't right." you pushed her away slightly. she was getting too comfortable in your personal space. it was supposed to be the only thing she'll never get a hand on but she managed to do so in the end too.

she already took too much from your life. your friends, your co-workers, your favorite florist from the subway, your bed, your house, oh the list goes on forever.

the most outrageous fact was that you were the one who actually let her do whatever she wanted. now look where that got you.

"what makes you say that?"

there it is.

her frown, something she knows you can't stand seeing.

"i thought you knew i'm only doing this because i love you?"

"it's just…" you bit the inside of your cheek, "it feels... wrong."

"tell me more about it, maybe I can help you understand how I see you," she suggested, but when you looked at her dull eyes and warm smile, you could hear something on the back of your mind telling you not to push it.

you sighed, opening your arms for her to bury herself in again.

"changed your mind?" she cooed.

"forget I said anything, mia."

‎

‎

[alxndryngs]

Second Opinion

I had this small idea before I went to bed last night, picking hairs I lost off of my pillow and the sheets lol. Basically, this is about hair loss and Alcina worrying that something is wrong.

One particular morning, you woke before Alcina had. Normally she was the first to wake up, but today was different.

You had told her the night before that you were expecting your period soon and that you had to run down to the village today to get some tampons. She approved of it, but she didnt think you'd go this early in the morning.

Sighing deeply, she looked over at your empty side of the bed. Her eyebrows furrowed while she sat up, taking a closer look at your side of the bed. It was basically covered in hairs!

Rubbing her hand over the pillow in circular motions, she soon had a small hairball she could pick up. The alarms inside her head went off.

----

You were shivering when you stepped back into the castle, a small plastic bag in your hand. Peeling the coat off your shoulders, you made your way to Alcina and your bedchambers. Ever since you stepped out into the cold, you had longed to get back into bed with her and warm up beside her.

However, when you stepped in and called out to her that you were back, you weren't looking at one but two women.

"Y/n, dear. Lovely to see you." Miranda said, smiling softly as she stood before Alcina whom was sitting in her chair by the fire.

Looking at her surprised, you nodded your head. "You too, Mother Miranda. I am so sorry, I had no idea the both of you were to meet. I'll leave you both to it."

You said, hurrying to hang up your coat and tossing the bag over to the connected bathroom so you wouldn't interrupt any further.

"Actually, my dear." Miranda said carefully, coming over to you and placing her clawed hand on your shoulder as she looked down on you. "I am here for you."

Eyebrows furrowing, you looked at Alcina before back at the priestess. For you? "For me? Im sorry, Im afraid I dont quite understand."

Miranda turned her head to look at Alcina before turning back to you with a more serious expression.

"Alcina fears that you might be sick, little bird. Let me do a couple examinations to make sure that you are not, alright?"

"What?" You spat with shock, looking past Miranda and at Alcina. "Alcina! Why on earth would you call Miranda?? I am perfectly fine!"

"Are you?" Finally turning her head to you, you saw the tears on her cheeks and redness in her eyes. "You are losing a lot of hairs. Do you know why people lose hairs? Cancer!"

You pout at her while walking past the priestess and over to your girlfriend, taking her hand into yours and offering a smile.

"I am not sick. Nor do I have cancer, Alcina. Everything is okay."

"Then please, allow me to do some tests to make sure of it."

Turning to miranda with a sigh, you hesitantly nodded. "Fine, okay."

"Fabulous!" She beamed, wings fluttering as she stepped over to you and waved her hand at you. "Take off your clothes."

Your face dropped in not even a second as you looked at Alcina once more, the shock not to miss on your face. She just shrugged, nodding.

"If it requires you taking off your clothes..? It's just Miranda, dear."

"Unbelievable." You mumbled, beginning to undress your upper half before standing before her bare chested. "That's all you'll get."

With a small nod, she pulled off her talons off her fingers before reaching for your breast.

"This is so AWKWARD- Jesus!" You yelled, stepping back from the winged woman and rubbing your breasts.

Alcina leaned forward, her eyebrows furrowed with worry. She looked like she might cry again.

"Did that hurt?? She barely touched you-! Oh god, Miranda, she's going to die, isn't she?" She said, looking to her mother and breaking out into another row of sobs.

"Alcina," You said softly, trying to keep composure. "I am fine. She has very cold hands." You said, glaring at the blonde. "You know my breasts are sensitive.." You mumbled, lowering your arms again.

"Oh, apologies." Rubbing her hands together to warm them up, she stepped towards you once more.

------

"Well, good news." Miranda said while walking back into the room, Alcina clutching your hand tightly.

"Y/n is not sick.... as she tried to tell us. She just.. has a lot of hair and seems to lose just as many."

Turning to your lover, glaring at her, you fake smiled at her.

"I told you so. How about next time you refuse to eat, I will call Mother Miranda and we can wait and see what she shoves down which one of your openings."

Alcina grimaced, mumbling a few apologies. You chuckled while pressing a kiss to the back of her hand.

"It's alright. I know you were just worried. But please, talk to me first before you call Miranda to fondle my breasts."

[dianneking]

The Set-Up - Miranda/Reader (Top of the Lake: China Girl)

Crossposted on AO3 - if you prefer to read it there, follow this link!

Summary: Reader is crushing hard on Miranda, and yet somehow ends up on a date with Robin organized by none other than Miranda herself. Light angst, mostly Miranda being a hot mess tbh.

Tags: Mutual pining, jealousy, fake relationship, spying on people, Miranda being a clueless hot mess (as per canon), lil’ bit of angst, matchmaker!Robin, height difference, smoking, present tense, second person pov, ungendered reader.  Words: 3767

The Set-Up

You watch as Miranda enthusiastically waves goodbye at Detective Griffin before coming to lean against the wall by your side. Wordlessly you offer her a cigarette out of your pack, and she accepts with a muttered Thank you, sticking it immediately between her lips and lighting it up. Maybe it’s because you are somewhat more tired, maybe it’s because today she looks particularly happy and it tugs at something deep within you, but today’s the day where you throw caution to the wind and ask her what you have been ruminating on for quite some time.

"So, what's the deal with you and Griffin, huh?"

"We're on another case together. It's a good one."

"Only that?"

"What else?"

"Come on, Hilmarson, are you really going to make me ask?"

"I... I don't understand what you mean."

"You two seem pretty close, that is all."

"We sorted out our differences."

"Isn't that just great?"

"What's wrong with you today? You are being more waspish than usual. Didn’t take enough smoke breaks?"

"Don’t try to change the subject. Are congratulations in order? Are you two an item now?"

"What? No!"

"...if you say so."

"We really aren't! She's like my sister or something. Is that what was pissing you off?"

"Of course not! Why would I care if you and Griffin were hitting it off?"

"Oh my god, it is. You are jealous."

"No I'm not"

"You so are!"

"Am not"

"Are too!"

"Piss off!"

You shove her playfully, but doing so makes you painfully aware of your height difference, and you feel suddenly very small and nervous. If your crush for Miranda is so evident that even herself can call you out on it, you are worse off than you thought you were.

You try to sneak a glance up at her, and you see her beautiful face corrugated in a frown, as if trying to piece together a puzzle. Has she already figured out everything? Maybe you should consider making a tactical retreat before you dig yourself too deep into a hole. But at the same time, you are not willing to give up any time the two of you spend together.

Damn. She's so out of your league it's not even funny, you think, watching how the warm glow of the afternoon sun shines through her blonde eyelashes. You should probably have been more careful in letting your feelings known, you think as the silence stretches on uncomfortably. Now there's going to be that embarrassed little dance of her trying to let you down and you telling her that it's okay (it's not), you understand (you do), and that you hope you two can still be friends (you really, really do). You are not ready to give up your smoke breaks spent together, all the laughter, the jokes, the heart to heart talks. Miranda is the brightest part of your day, and you'll be damned if you'll do anything to hurt your friendship.

 "Hey I... I think you might have a chance, you know?"

"What?" You barely manage to choke out. Is she…

"Yeah, Robin is single you know. And you are witty and smart like her, you two would get on like a house on fire."

Oh no.

The implications of that sentence hit you like a cold shower. Is she really that clueless or is it some sort of joke? She's not the person to purposefully try to hurt you by mocking your crush, you know her well enough for that. You know she means well, and yet your heart sinks as surely as a rock in cold water. She's totally misunderstood, but that in itself is an answer.

"Miranda, that's not..."

"You know what? I can set you two up for a date!" She whips her phone out before you can try to get in a word, her tongue peeking out of her lips in a show of concentration as she types away. You try your best not to stare at her mouth as she does so, but you are entranced. So much so that you miss your only occasion to stop her.

"There you go!" she announces with a satisfied smile as the phone pings with Griffin's answer "She says she's up for grabbing lunch with you at Tony's tomorrow if you pay for it."

You try to swallow your disappointment, but it stays as a bitter knot in your throat. She might not be dating her detective partner, but she for sure isn't interested in you, if she's so quick to try set you up with her. She looks down at you, with so much excitement shining on her face that for a moment you get lost in those sparkling blue eyes. She's so gorgeous, and sunny, and kind. You really cannot be blamed for falling for her. It's just your usual rotten luck that she only sees you as a friend. So much so as to play matchmaker for you.

And you are so desperately in love with her that you cannot bring yourself to burst her bubble, to be the reason that her infectious smile drops from her lips, and so you don’t say anything. You don’t tell her that when the two of them storm through the station on their way to another case, or when they lean together, their heads close as they look at the computer screen together, it is not Griffin that you can’t take your eyes off from.

"So, what do you say?"

"Uhm…sure, I guess…"

“But of course, that’s what friends are for, isn’t it? You go get your girl!”

You shrug, trying to squash down the hurt that the word friend carries. You might as well go to this lunch with Griffin, hopefully you might be able to pull out of her whether Miranda is seeing someone else. Not that that would change much, would it? You should start trying to resign yourself to the fact that you really have no chance with her.

Also, Miranda looks positively giddy with excitement at having set the two of you up. Not when she has so resolutely stated that she only thinks of you as a friend. You are not going to make a fool of yourself confessing feelings that won’t be welcome and would only make your interactions awkward. Grabbing a bite with Griffin is for sure the lesser embarrassment of the two. Or at least the least damaging for your friendship. Because even if you can't have Miranda as your girlfriend, you are going to fight tooth and nail not to lose her as a friend.

 You only hope that Griffin won't be an arse about it.

“Why are we even here? Didn't you have a huge crush on Miranda?”

Obviously, it had been too much to ask for.

“...”

“I’ll take that as a yes. So why let her set you up with me?”

“If you knew that already, why did you agree to this date?”

“I wanted some free lunch.”

“Oh wow. Way to make someone feel appreciated, Griffin.”

“And I was curious.”

“Were you?”

“Yeah, I wanted to see what she sees in you.”

“Nothing much, probably, if she tried to peddle me to you at the first chance she got.”

You try to keep the bitterness out of your tone, but you still bite viciously into your sourdough sandwich, and you can hear Griffin scoff.

“Oh please, it's obvious that she's pining for you just as much as you are for her.” You can feel yourself burning with embarrassment. Still better than the alternative, you remind yourself. It's just a lunch.

“I might even believe you if she hadn’t just put me firmly in the friendzone, so please, Griffin, can you drop this and just enjoy your free food?"

 Miranda tries not to feel guilty as she peeks beyond the wall corner to watch her two colleagues through the window of the café. She just wants to see how the date goes, that's all. Since she's the one who made it possible and all of that, she feels somewhat responsible for it. Like a fairy godmother for your budding relationship. Her friend and her work partner hitting it off…that has to be a good match, right?

Everybody agrees that Robin is the absolute best detective in the station. And you...well, you deserve nothing but the best. And if you two work it out, she won't have to share her free time between the two of you, right? The three of you will be able to hang out together all the time, and all will be just grand. One big happy family.

She can see the two of you in conversation, and cannot help the nervous tapping of her fingers on the wall she's hiding behind. She can see you shrug, an embarrassed grimace on your face. She can see how red your ears have turned - she can't get over how cute you are when you blush. For all of your tough talk, she thinks affectionately, you really are just a big softie. Have you already told Robin of your crush for her?

What will her reaction be?

Maybe Robin will reject you, and of course Miranda will be there to help you through your heartbreak, to comfort you as you had done for her when her affair – it’s a relationship, babe – with Adrian had crumbled like a sandcastle built too close to the ocean. Because that’s what friends do for each other, right? And Miranda is very happy to be your friend.

She absolutely is.

Really.

It's just that…

It's just that sometimes she allows her mind to run free, and she finds herself wondering how it would feel for once to hold your hand as you lean against the wall outside the station side by side, how your hair would feel if she buried her hands in it, how your lips would taste if she were to… No. She really shouldn’t. You're her friend, and she's pretty sure normal people don’t think about kissing their friend.

Unless they have romantic feelings for their friend. And she surely doesn't. Does she?

…

Fuck.

She totally has romantic feelings for you.

How hasn't she noticed? How long has she been feeling this way towards you and mistaking it for friendship? Suddenly she feels like bashing her head against the rough brick wall. How could she have been so dumb? She has even helped to set you up with Robin! Wow, good job, Hilmarson. Great. Couldn't she have realised it like two days ago? Even for her standards - she's the first to admit that she has messed up multiple times in her life - that's one major cock-up.

 “See? She's totally into you as well, she's even spying on our date.”

“That might just be because she is curious. If she wanted me, why would she try to set me up with you? Come on, Griffin, you must be smarter than this. Aren't you supposed to be the best detective in Australia or something?”

“Ha-ha, such a flatterer. Look, I know what I’m seeing. And lucky for you, I’ve got an idea.”

“Lord help us all.”

“What if I pretended to go along with it?”

“Griffin, I am flattered, but I thought we had already been over how I'm not interested in you.”

“That's why I said pretended, genius. She’ll see us together, get jealous and realize her feelings for you.”

“She won't. You might be a decent detective, but you suck at relationship advice. Oi! Remove your hand from mine, this is ridiculous.”

 She shouldn't still be here, Miranda thinks, and yet she can't seem to be able to rip her eyes away from the way Robin has grasped your hand above the coffee table, her face opening in a lopsided smile.

This isn't fun anymore. Not since she's realised how badly she has fucked up in helping you two out. Miranda swallows, her eyes never leaving Robin as she slides out of her side of the booth and moves to sit beside you. She's never seen that sort of playful grin on Robin's face, unless she was totally hammered, and to see it when she's sober, and on a date with you of all people… Robin wants you too, doesn't she?

Well, of course she does. I mean, look at you, you are lively, smart, funny, attractive, and Robin might be many things, but she for sure isn’t blind or stupid. She has to know how much of a catch you are.

Miranda can only watch helplessly as Robin - the same Robin who refuses all sort of affectionate contact, struggling to even hug her own daughter - is leaning into you, nuzzling your neck, and whispering something in your ear. You jolt up as if electrocuted, and turn towards her, shock clear on your face. What has she said to you? Miranda feels like she's going insane, stuck on the outside looking in.

And then Robin chooses that moment to plant a kiss square on your lips.

Miranda turns tail and flees.

 “What the fuck, Griffin?”

“It's gonna work, trust me. I know Miranda.”

  Miranda leans against the wall next to the station, in what over the years she has come to think of as your spot. If she closes her eyes, she can almost fool herself into thinking you’re by her side, as you always are, cigarette dangling from your lips, always ready with a sarcastic quip, or a funny retort. Except you're not there. You're still on your stupid happy date, that she had pushed you into, like the moron she is.

She's been chainsmoking since she came back from spying on you, and the longer it takes for you to come back, the more harshly she pulls in the smoke between her teeth, trying to lessen her stress. Trying not to picture what you and Robin could be doing that's taking the both of you so damn long.

She tries to ignore the painful constriction of her heart at what her traitorous mind conjures up. The mere thought of Robin's small hands safely ensconced in your bigger ones, of her mouth exploring yours as Miranda had been dreaming of doing even before she recognized her feelings for you, of the two of you hugging or worse, makes her want to scream at the top of her lungs and hit something.

But she can't.

You're her friend, she should want you to be happy, shouldn't she? And if that means stepping aside and supporting you in your relationship with Robin, of course she'll do just that. Because Robin is the one you're interested in and there's nobody on earth Miranda can think is more different from her than Detective Griffin. Robin simply is everything Miranda has never been: petite, professional, smart, careful and precise. It's no wonder you like her and not big, clumsy, helpless Miranda.

Miranda, who's a terrible friend and cannot even support you wholeheartedly in your new budding relationship.

Miranda shakes her head, dropping the butt of her cigarette to the ground and moodily stepping on it. She should be happy for you, should be grateful to be allowed to be your friend, it's not like she has  a whole lot of those anyways. The sooner she starts to accept the fact that there's no hope for anything more between you two, the better it'll be for her poor heart.

She just didn't expect it to hurt so much.

But what's taking you so long? Is that how it's going to be from now on? You and Robin, so wrapped in each other that you forget about Miranda, leaving her alone once again, cast aside, begging for scraps of affection from her friends?

She can feel the tears filling her eyes at the mere thought.

 "You're back! How…how did it go?"

Miranda’s smile is too big, her eyes too watery for it to be sincere. For the first time you allow yourself to hope against all hopes that maybe, maybe Robin has a point.

But maybe you are just seeing what you want to see.

“Are you alright, Miranda?" Her laugh is high, nervous and ends up in a sort of hiccup as she clumsily claps you on the shoulder, rocking you with the strength of the impact.

"Of course I am! Why wouldn’t I be, there’s a new, blooming romance in the station! And between my best friend and my partner, to boot! Isn't that just grand? Are you gonna tell all the others about it, or should I tell them and save you the pain?”

Her happy-go-lucky voice is so fake it twists your heart and almost makes you miss what she has said.

“Nonono, there will be no telling anything to the others!”

The last thing you need is for the whole fucking station to think you and Griffin are an item. You wouldn’t hear the end of it. It’s already bad that Miranda thinks that. And hopefully you can somehow clear that up.

“Is that something Robin asked you? Does she want to keep you as her dirty little secret? You shouldn’t settle for that! You deserve more!” She gesticulates wildly at this, her hands cutting the air with agitated gestures, as she defends your honor against imaginary slights.

“That’s not it, Miranda. It’s just-“ But she cuts you off before you can get a word in.

“You shouldn't hide your feelings! You two are totally made for each other. Go be unapologetically together!”

"Why are you so adamant in pushing us together?" You finally snap, irritatedly. She's not making any sort of sense. She's trying so hard to get the two of you together even if it's obvious that she's not happy in the least about it. And even though you are starting to think more and more that this might all be a huge misunderstanding, it cuts to hear the woman you love trying so hard to set you up with someone else. What if Robin wasn’t right? What if Miranda really only saw you as a friend and nothing more?

"What do you mean? Didn't the date go well? You sure looked like you were hitting it off pretty well, and you took your sweet time, too." She mutters the second part softly, as if it has come out of her mouth without her really wanting to, then promptly blushes a deep red.

You always found her adorable when she blushed.

"Miranda, I need to know it, why were you spying on us?"

"Oh god, you saw me? I… Uhm I…I just happened to drop by Tony's, I had totally forgotten that the two of you were there. So I uhm hid, because I didn’t want to make it uncomfortable for you. Hehe, that’s all."

"Is… Is it possible that you might like me?" You throw all caution to the wind because really, at this point you need a clear answer.

"No!" She answers too quickly "Of course not! You are my friend. I like you as a friend!" Hope stirs once again, but you don't dare to believe it quite yet. Not while she keeps denying everything.

"Miranda, you are many good things, but you are a terrible liar."

She suddenly rights herself from where she was leaning against the wall and makes as if to move towards the station.

"Well, I…I need to go. I just realized that my lunchbreak was over like five minutes ago and I-"

You stop her, a hand on her wrist, and a pleading tone to your voice.

"No, please. Stay. I…"

She stops, but she stays with her back to you. When she speaks, her voice wavers ever so slightly.

“You don’t have to spare my feelings, I know what you want to say.”

“You…do? ‘Cause it seems to me that this is all a huge misunderstanding.”

“Of course. A misunderstanding. Sure, that’s one way to put it. Just another big clumsy mess, made by big clumsy Miranda. I guess we’re used to it by now, aren’t we?”

She turns now, and you are shocked to see tears streaking down her face.

“That’s not what-“

“It's OK,” she interrupts you once again, angrily wiping the wetness off her face as she looks at you with a solemn, sad look into those beautiful big blue eyes of hers, “I know that you like Robin, I would never do anything to ruin your chance with her. You really make a perfect couple, I am serious about it. I just need a little time to adjust.” Her voice is picking up speed, as if it's impossible to stop now that she's started, “I am so grateful to have you as a friend, it's not like I expected you to return my feelings. Hell, I didn't recognise them for what they are until I saw the two of you together. And I would never let something like that ruin our friendship. Everything can stay perfectly the same, even if you are with Robin and…and I know I am a terrible friend that has fallen for you after setting you up with your crush but I want you to be happy and please don't hate me."

You blink under the onslaught of words she's unleashed on you, and when she abruptly stops, all that can be heard in the small alley to the side of the station is her heavy breathing, as if she had just run a marathon. Her shoulders are shaking and you can't see her face, dipped as it is into her collarbone in shame.

Your heart breaks at seeing her like this, at the sheer thought that Miranda could believe even for one second that you hate her.

You stand right in front of her, cradling her red, downturned face in your hands, tilting it ever so slightly up from where it was staring at the pavement, so you can once again look directly into her beautiful blue eyes, now swimming with tears and swirling emotions.

She's such a mess, you think affectionately. But she's a lovely mess with the biggest of hearts, and you wouldn’t want her any other way.

"Miranda, I could never ever hate you. In fact, it's quite the opposite. I… I think I love you."

"As…as a friend?"

"No, dearest, no, not as a friend."

And you hope there's no mistaking your intentions now as you press your lips to hers in a kiss that the both of you have been daydreaming about for way too long to admit.

Liked it? You can find more of my fanfiction on my masterlist!

[doomsdaydicecascader]

What would you say was the thing that really shifted your opinion on postcanon stuff? I remember reading your long form posts about it and finding them pretty eloquent and interesting given the information I had (and I admit they did nudge me to me to end up not reading the epilogues along with the sheer length and my own squeamishness, though of course you also gave them their due when you felt it was fair)

if i'm being real, it's primarily interaction with other homestuck fans - my social media spaces tend to be pretty heavily curated, i basically only follow people i trust to be intelligent, since like. there is a level of comfort and complacency with social media? i don't like following new people, i don't like unfollowing old people. so i just dont branch out that much.

but i joined the mspfa discord in........ may of last year? while i really enjoy playing the role of like, i compared myself to solaire of astora once. guy who is there to help. i enjoy doing that, there is fun in that. i have spent many hours over the past months explaining homestuck plot points in ways that basically only i would and it is largely, pearls before swine, because the fact is that people dont want to understand post-canon, they don't want to like, pick at it critically, to understand why the decisions were made, they want to hate post-canon. and this is a very critical difference between me not liking post-canon and the majority of people hating post-canon.

and there is something to be said about experiencing homestuck as it is perceived by other people, to really solidify what i liked about homestuck post-canon, because there was stuff i liked to begin with. and seeing people who hate it without good reason frustrate me! genuinely, if you had to see the same "i heard jade has a dog penis" discussions every 2 weeks from some sprout who showed up only to be mad, you would start to defend it too.

like, i actually delayed that second blog post at the time because hatred for the team was flaring up again, for whatever reason, i don't even remember. but i remember putting it off because i didn't want to contribute to people who were blindly angry about homestuck^2

there are reasons to not like post-canon, lord knows there are plenty. i actually stand by basically everything i said about it not actually working and the times where it goes too far. in the second blog post, not the first one. but like, there is a total and all-encompassing difference in what the conversation is, "yeah, the meat and candy thing doesnt really work and dirks graphic suicide is ill-considered at best" doesnt matter at all when the level people are operating on is "say a plot point as a joke, make people mad, have fun circlejerking over how bad it is"

part of it is also that in the process of writing my own comic, it kind of comes with the territory to be less precious about the characters. like, team slime, my home discord server, watches movies every saturday. for a while, our theme was musicals, and eventually, we watched hamilton. and i realized that lin manuel miranda writes alexander hamilton in the exact way i am always afraid i am writing jane and vriska, like. just. truly relentlessly protective of them. and so being less precious about these characters means recognizing the flaws therein, not being afraid to write them just being kind of disasters. i still am pretty precious about them, but its a work in progress. you gotta get your hands dirty with them, and that puts it in context of respecting when others do the same

like, there are still a lot of really glaring flaws in post-canon, dont get me wrong, but theyre not insurmountable, and it helps to have spaces like burning down the house for me to express directly like. what i wanted out of homestuck. post-canon is not what i want it to be, but when has homestuck ever given anyone what they wanted without any complications whatsoever

and i think it is genuinely capable of being extremely good - this recent update (yiffy overlooking the rosemary drama) is extremely choice! i genuinely love how everyone involved is characterized, the panels are flashy, it puts to bed really stupid shit, like. its unbelievably fucking good how the problem kanaya has isnt "rose had another kid with jade in secret, our marriage is in shambles" but "jane knows about this kid", like. the absence of infidelity conflict is refreshing and says so much about everyone involved. and i have been thinking nonstop about how rose and jades daughters takes after caliborn of all characters. like. "you hope they eat each other alive" with the perspective of like, a caliborn grin is such an INSANE direction to take yiffy! holy shit! its awesome!!!!!!!!

[eletricheart]

The Great War

*image creds to the owner

Word count: 1.371

"that was the night I nearly lost you"

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

Miranda wasn't the most open person, sometimes you didn't even know if she actually enjoyed your presence, but since you were never kicked out, you stayed. You weren't stupid, you knew of her experiments, you've seen the results in the woods, criminals she would say. You'd ask about the lords, "I did everything I could, I saved their lives".

You believed in her for a while, you understood and trusted her.

However, she never told you the extent of her trials, never told you the age of some subjects, never told you she doesn't feel remorse for all she's doing.

A lie won't go too far, she expected you to stay in the haze, blindly trust her, but Miranda was careless.

All of her experiments were failing, soldiers kept knocking on her door, Alcina's and Heisenberg's endless fighting. She was stressed, she forgot to lock the door, forgot to sedate the child.

When you first heard the screams, panic took control. You raced down the stairs to find Miranda covered in a little girl's blood. The urge to vomit was immense but the initial shock kept you completely frozen.

Miranda knew she messed up, she knew you wouldn't approve this, but her daughter was more important than anything in this world. So why did she care? Why was she worried about how you would react? It took you a month to properly look at her after finding the laboratory, how long would it take now.

Miranda watched as your mind worked relentlessly, trying to make as little movement as possible to not scare you off. Until all you could ask was why.

Miranda scoffed at this question, it was as obvious as the existence of the sun.

"Children have a more similar anatomy to my Eva, obviously".

You were perplexed, stuck between anger and sadness, not being able to formulate any long sentences with the way your mind kept going up and down. "But she's just a kid".

Miranda wanted to laugh at this, but instead she just furrowed her eyebrows and smiled. "My Eva was just a kid, besides it's not like this one was useful, didn't even pass the incision, no need to be worried".

So it clicked, Heisenberg's fury towards Miranda, Donna not leaving the house, Moreau disfigured and the Dimitrescu trapped inside a castle.

You want to be mad at her, for all of the suffering she has caused. But you were just upset with the lying, if she just talked to you.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Oh please, you were dramatic knowing about those creatures, with this you would be an even greater nuisance".

"Miranda this was a child! Not a criminal or someone close to dying, it's a kid. This is completely wrong. Oh my God what have I done, I can't believe this, I've been going against everything I've ever believed during these past few months for your to lie to me. I've been trusting you, trying so hard to understand you, to give reason to your actions, to have an excuse for all you've done and this is what I find".

"I never asked for you to do any of this, you chose to stay, you chose to accept my mission, my holy mission. I was blessed by the Black God and now you come to me thinking I have time for your petty complaints. You're nothing more than means to an end, don't blame me for your pathetic love expectations. I will do anything for my daughter, these subjects are serving a purpose greater than you could ever understand".

"Miranda, listen to yourself, this is insane, you're acting completely crazy".

So she slapped you.

𓄿

You would think that after living with someone for months, you would know the person. Neither of you knew each other, not even superficially, you just stayed close. Maybe it was fear of the other not liking the real personalities, maybe none of you wanted to meet the other.

Miranda saw you as a hypocrite, someone who acts like an activist but turns a blind eye to her cruelty.

You saw Miranda as a grieving mother, willing to give her life to Eva, someone who has done many bad things but still has good inside.

In reality, both were right in a way. You were a hypocrite but you still cried everyday for her experiments, you still helped the village with their basic needs, you still tried. Miranda was indeed grieving, but the pain was larger than you could possibly imagine. At a certain point she did go mad, she didn't care for the person laying on the table or dying in the cages, all she could see was the main goal, bringing her daughter back.

𓄿

You left after she slapped you, no one followed. You left the village, no lycan crossed your way and no crow watched you.

You went back to your city, tried to live a normal life, tried to forget the priestess. You really tried, but everything you did a memory would go through your mind, it could be something as simple as watching the sky and remember the day where you dragged her out of the cabin to see a rabbit shaped cloud.

You missed her and felt guilty for it, so you didn't come back, at least not for the next six months.

Miranda went back to work, crueler than before. The crops started to die, the lycans became more erratic, the crows were more aggressive.

Even the Lords noticed the changes, Moreau's reservoir was starting to lack fish, a sudden coldness reached the castle leaving it's inhabitants trapped inside without enough food, Heisenberg was having more troubles with the lycans and an absurd amount of new corpses.

Donna was the only one who didn't feel such a difference, except for a certain sadness in the air, one that wasn't her own.

They all tried to speak with the Goddess but she was unreachable, either spending weeks performing experiments or laying in bed for days.

It was the darkest six months the village had faced in many decades.

That was the state of the village when you returned, the common people tried to drive you away, to spare you from the land's cruelty, but you kept going, simply following the crows. Finding her at the lake, five minutes from the center of the village. There she was in all glory, waiting for you.

Miranda saw your return, she noticed how you looked skinnier, more tired, as if the world didn't treat you right.

The priestess wanted to kill you on the spot, no one insults her and leaves alive. And then you smiled at one of her devotees, your dimples faintly showing. So she forgot to kill you, forgot even the reason why she was supposed to hate you.

All Miranda felt was relief, a strange feeling of hope that maybe you forgave her. How comical, a Goddess wanting forgiveness from you...it was something she truly wanted.

Neither of you knew what to say, both still remembered the last conversation.

You could feel your hands shaking, your fast beating heart and your happiness to see her.

"I'm sorry."

Miranda released a breath she didn't even notice holding, and gave you a small smile.

"I'm sorry too."

Suddenly, the crops grew healthier, the sun shines brighter, more fishes started to live in the waters, the lycans became completely manageable.

Both of you agreed to talk more, she promised to try not to experiment on the innocent and you promised to never leave again.

Everyone noticed that both changes happened with your exit and return, some villagers even started worshiping you. The Lords were apprehensive, Salvatore wanted to impress you, Karl planned your murder, Alcina probably wished to eat you and Donna was quietly curious.

Everytime you fought the Lords would know, Miranda would be more demanding than usual, and the fact that you went to Donna's after her fight made her even angrier.

So yes, things turned out to the better, vows of never going back to that bloodshed were made.

However, this time when you fought, you would always receive a letter from Alcina and Karl, begging to forgive Miranda.

"I vowed I would always be yours."

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

masterlist

[flares-of-arcadia]

Some messy thoughts on RE7 (with mentions of 8)

just beat RE7. I wish I had paid more attention when it first came out and I watched my brother go through it, because holy shit I fucking loved it

Under a read-more for length

After playing through 7 on my own, it's hard to believe that I didn't really get into the fandom until Village. Or, well, it does track that I saw scary women in 8 and started paying attention... I am nothing if not predictable

And honestly, a big part of why Village sunk it's claws into me is because it's flawed, or at the very least felt like it had a lot of missed potential. All of the antagonists were so interesting, and I felt like they didn't get as much attention as the Bakers did (there are so many things to look at, storytelling in the environment, AND we learned more about them in the DLC). Wanting to fill in those gaps for the 4 Lords and Miranda is what made me so invested in the fandom

(also because I'm really gay)

If you're familiar with my main blog, you might know that my biggest gripe with Village is that we don't get anything between Mia and Miranda. Having now played through 7 (and read literally every file), I feel even more strongly about what was missing. Or, at the very least, what I wanted from it.

Annnnd that's just in terms of story, gameplay is a whole other thing, but I'd want to replay 8 before getting too much into it.

But back to just talking about 7 for a tiny bit longer, as chaotic as my thoughts are:

Loved the soundtrack. Also hated it because, as a horror soundtrack goes, it was Very Effective. Didn't appreciate one of the tracks having some monster noises, tho. That was already a tense section and I hated getting false alarms about whether or not there was a Molded around the corner. And!!! Honestly the version of Go Tell Aunt Rhody didn't need to slap as hard as it does. I'd listen to that shit in my free time

Ethan is an interesting protagonist? I love him, don't get me wrong, but there are a couple kind of quirks that make it hard to interpret him. Most of the time he feels like a silent protagonist, but in cutscenes he's very vocal. It gets weird once the cutscene ends with something dramatic and he immediately shuts up.

Like, after we first reunite with Mia, we reach a dead end, Ethan goes to check another room, and while our back is turned we hear Mia scream. Ethan yells her name, we rush back to the room she was in, and then Ethan just doesn't say anything else. Doesn't call out to her, doesn't say anything about the new pathway, nothing. There are more examples but this was supposed to be quick

I love Mia. She's a badass, she's a liar with temporary amnesia, and she's a Fucking Badass. Seriously wish we had a chance to play as her again in Village. I do kinda wish we got more glimpses into her relationship with Ethan, but hey that's what fanfiction is for

I feel so bad for Eveline. I get that she was beyond the point of saving, but fucking hell, you read the files and you look at the photos (and you think about what we know from 8 about Miranda's role) and she's suddenly very understandable. It's tragic, everything that happened to her, even if she went on to inflict tragedies on others.

Okay I have more thoughts but my thumbs are tired from gaming + immediately typing on my phone. Love y'all byeeeeee

[beaker1636]

Single Lyrics Intro - Ryan Sitkowski

AN: Here we go, the intro to the Ryan single dad fic! Hope ya'll enjoy

“Hey y/n, this is Ryan, from highschool.  Listen, I really need some help and I don’t know who else I can ask.  Can you please call me back when you get the time?”

You play the voicemail message back a few times, unable to fully believe what you are hearing.  Pausing in your tracks when it plays as you are cleaning your daycare classroom.

It has been almost 10 years since you have last spoken to Ryan, a relationship that turned sour and didn’t end well.  The man broke your heart years ago, so what could he possibly need from you after all these years and from you of all people?

You sigh, going back to cleaning for the night while debating if you should call him back or not, he did sound really concerned in his voicemail.  You’re so distracted by everything that you don’t even notice when your boss and one of your best friends walks into your room.

“Okay, what is wrong? You are clearly trapped in your own head,” Miranda asks, stepping in front of you so you notice her.

You both take a seat in the two rocking chairs, you letting out a sigh before speaking. 

“Do you remember Ryan?” 

“Like the one who you cried over for weeks for being a dick, yeah. Why?” She gives you a look that lets you know she is unsure where you are going but she doesn’t approve of what you have to say.

“When all the kids left I had a voicemail, he said he really needs my help and asked me to call him back.  What should I do? Why would he call me of all people? We haven’t spoken in years,” you sigh again, conflicted and confused about what you should do.

“That is really fucking weird, do you have any clue what he needs?” She asks, you can feel the side eye that she is giving you.

“No, he didn’t say… oh shit, he is calling again now,” you immediately panic, freezing as you decide what you should do.

“Answer it, I will finish mopping. Tell me what he wants,” she says, standing up and moving to give you some privacy.

You take a deep breath before answering. “Hey Ryan, sorry I didn’t answer sooner, I was working.”

“y/n, thank you for answering.  Do you have a couple minutes to talk, I have something I really need help with and I genuinely can’t think of anyone else to ask.” You can hear the hesitation in is voice, his anxiety in his words.

“Yeah, I have some time, what’s up?” you ask softly, anxious yourself.

“My- my sister unfortunately died about a month ago in a car accident with her husband, and long story short I have custody of their 18 month old little girl, Violet, like she's officially mine.  Anyway, long story short I need a nanny who would travel with us for tours and stuff, to be with her when I can’t…. And I can’t find anyone trustworthy.  You do daycare and have a lot of experience with kids and we know each other so I know that you wouldn’t be weird about who I am which is also important to me.  I just really want what is best for Violet and I think you would be great at it, but I understand if you say no based on our past.  I - I know I hurt you in the past and I can’t take that back but I really hope you will consider this,” he sounds desperate as he speaks, like he genuinely needs you. “I don’t expect an answer right away, you can take a few days to decide.”

“I’m so sorry Ryan, that sounds like a lot to take in and go through for you. I’ll consider it and get back to you tomorrow and get back to you if that is okay,” you say, genuinely not sure what you currently think about everything. It is a lot for you to take in yourself, both glad he thought of you but also upset that after all this time that is finally what he is talking to you about.

“I can accept that, and y/n, I really am sorry for everything I put you through. I know I can never take it back and it still upsets me.  Please do not let that be the thing that stops you,” he asks gently.

“Thank you, and I won’t.  I need to let you go Ryan, I will call you tomorrow,” you say softly before both of you say goodbye and hang up on eachother.

The second he hangs up you groan, asking yourself what the fuck am I going to do now?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

[fantasy-relax]

Incorrect

Warning: mention of suicide

An office, a blonde alone going through the paperwork needed to keep the school running smoothly.

*The materials necessary for the class laboratory practice...*

How many times have she done this? How many have she read this?

"Miranda you need to rest. Do you want to go have breakfast with me?"

...

How many times have you chosen to be next to her?

She hates to think about it because she hates the answer.

... One

You were with her one time, working with her.

"The next pen you throw at me I'll keep, now please don't make the next student cry, I'm begging you. Smiling won't kill you! .. okay now try to make look less psychotic."

Taking care of her.

"I'm sorry to wake you up but sleeping in your desk isn't good for you, especially at your age. OUCH"

She don't understand how it could happen, everything was wrong, you weren't the right *you*.

There was not a trace of the memories you had shared with her and every time you shared a moment so similar to the past her hopes took flight only to fall when there was not a hint of recognition on your face.

And yet she knew that look of love and adoration on your face.

You loved her, you were with her and in time you would recover your memory, that should have been enough...

But when you started talking about the future, about your career, about your desire to have at least two children...

"Two?"

"I feel like just one would be a little lonely for her or him, having someone next to her other than us would be better, we won't live forever they need company, brotherhood"

"..."

"Names aren't my thing, so you can name them yourself."

"Eva"

"And if it's a boy, we'll call him Adam?, I'm just joking, Eva is a good name."

"..." Nothing. There was nothing in your eyes. No reaction to hearing the name of the daughter that both of you lost.

"Miri?"

"..." Miri, not pretty bird or something similar. Just Miri, you've never called her that, until now.

"Dear?" Mistake. Wrong. It was the wrong you.

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have laughed, the name is important to you. Forgive me, Miranda"

You kissed her right hand. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. You always used to kiss the left. Always. Wrong. Wrong. Incorrect

"Love? Wh-ugh." She'll fix it. She always does it.

"UHG"  She will reset the loop. Next time you will be perfect. You will remember her, you will understand why she did it and you will forgive her. Because you will finally be the right *you*.

"Miff-ugh-ra" And then she'll bring Eva back and everything will be perfect.

"..." She hug your body, in a few more moments she will call to make preparations.

Everything will be perfect.

---

But you didn't come back.

You changed route.

You fell in love with someone else.

Sometimes your decisions ended up costing you your life.

Sometimes they had their stupid happy ending. Ignoring what they had done, what they had stolen.

But she would reset the loop as many times as necessary, she would endure millennia to have you by her side.

Until an accident destroyed her method of restoring it.

And that thieving bitch had you chained next to her.

"Why don't you take them by force?" One of the cult members had commented.

She tried. She gave you everything. She did everything. But your memories didn't come back. Your hatred only grew until your desperation was too much.

"Your love is a poison that corrodes my health and my soul, everything you love rots in your hands, I refuse to live on your terms. I will die on mine"

It was what you wrote before ending your life.

And no matter how she tried to get closer to you or tried to control you, the result was the same with almost the same words.

It was something she couldn't stand.

So her only hope was to restart and wait for you to choose her.

Now that is impossible. The repair would take decades to complete.

She thought about killing you, denying that damn woman the privilege of your love. But without the loop your soul would be free to wander, it took a long time to find you, so the best option was to wait for everything to be ready.

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

She signed the papers and continued working. There was no point in thinking about that. You will return to her.

You promised to love her. Until death do us part. Already did it

Yes, Miranda can wait for the arrival of your correct self.

If she had accepted you just the way you were, you would be together watching a movie with Eva, lying in a pillow fort with your arm on her shoulders and Eva on your lap. You would touch her gently and not with violence, you would kiss her with passion and not with disgust, you would look at her with love and not with hate.

You would had gone back to her if only she had been able to let you go in the first place.

[a-araiguma-a]

Prologue. Between the serving and Her smile.

Chapter 4. The decision made leads to a new home.

Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: in the future Oliver Wood x fem!reader Warning: - a/n:I know I need to speed up with the work, but if I release the chapters too quickly, who will read them? Rushing won’t lead to anything good, but I can give you a spoiler: "Fred, winking at his brother, said, 'We can't let anyone think we have a heart.'" / "He never had the courage to admit it to himself, let alone say it to her. And now, the thought of her spending time with Oliver, his friend and teammate, made him feel jealous."

Start - Prolog (Episode 1 - Episode 2 - Episode 3 - Episode 4 - Episode 5) - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

The week flew by faster than Margaret had expected. Time seemed simultaneously endless and fleeting, as if each second brought with it important decisions and changes. Margaret was still trying to sort out her feelings, but the days passed quickly, and the moment she had feared so much finally arrived. On the day of their return visit, her heart beat faster than usual, but now she knew what she had to do. She stood by the window of her room, watching the car carrying Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild pull up. Her grandparents, whom she barely knew but who were connected to her by invisible threads of heritage and magic, had returned to hear her final decision.

Mr. Fairchild helped his wife out of the car. Mrs. Fairchild looked a bit tense, but her eyes sparkled with hope. They knocked on the door, and soon Bennett opened it for them.

"Welcome. We've been expecting you."

"Thank you, Bennett," Enola quietly replied, and they entered the house.

Tension hung in the air; everyone knew the moment of truth had come.

Miranda joined them in the living room, where everyone had already gathered. Margaret, feeling her anxiety build, kept her eyes on the floor. She knew what she had to say but struggled to gather her thoughts into a coherent whole.

Mr. Fairchild, as always, remained composed, but his eyes gleamed with interest and perhaps anxiety. Enola, on the other hand, looked animated but still slightly nervous. She was the first to speak, smiling at Margaret:

"Dear, we're so glad to see you again. We hope you've had the chance to think about our offer. We know it's not easy, but we want you to know that no matter what you decide, we will always support you."

Margaret took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. In their eyes, she saw not only concern but also anticipation. She knew they hoped for her agreement, but she also felt that they understood her hesitation. Her voice trembled with emotion, but she couldn’t allow herself to back down.

"Grandma, Grandpa..." she began, trying to speak calmly. "I've thought a lot about what you proposed. And... it was hard. All this time, I've been living here, with Dad and Miranda. And even though we haven't always been close, this has been my home. And now I have to leave, to go to people I barely know. You... you came into my life so suddenly, and it was hard to accept."

She glanced at her father and Miranda, their faces full of anxiety and concern. Margaret felt caught between two worlds, unsure how to deal with these emotions.

"It hurt me that you only appeared now," she continued, with a slight note of reproach in her voice. "Why didn’t you come sooner? Why did you leave me alone when I needed to know more about my mother, about magic? Now that you’re here, you’re asking me to leave everything I’ve known behind. It’s not easy for me."

Enola nodded gently, her eyes filled with understanding.

"We understand, dear," she said. "We didn’t want to intrude on your life, especially after your mother was gone. It was a difficult time for all of us, and we thought it would be best to give you space. We were wrong, and I deeply regret that. But your mother was part of our family, and you are her continuation. Now that you have the opportunity to enter the world of magic, which is your rightful place, we don’t want you to miss this chance."

Margaret sighed, feeling her voice start to tremble again.

"I understand that, Grandma," she replied. "But it’s hard for me to leave everything I’ve known until now. I don’t know what awaits me. And all of this scares me. It feels like I’m losing not only my home but also a part of myself that has always been connected to this place."

Mr. Fairchild, who had been silent until then, quietly added:

"We never forgot about you, Margaret. We always watched from afar, hoping that one day we could bring you back into the family. You are the only heir to our family, and we rely on you. But you must know: we are not here to take you away from your home. We want you to become part of ours, part of the world that is rightfully yours," his voice was deep and firm, yet full of hidden kindness.

Margaret looked into her grandfather’s eyes. He wasn’t a man who openly expressed his feelings, but she knew that his expectations of her were high.

He paused, watching his granddaughter’s reaction, then continued:

"You are our only heir, and we have great hopes for you. But these hopes should not become a burden. We want you to grow, to find your own path in this world. We will be here to support you, just as your father and Miranda will."

Margaret felt tears welling up in her eyes. She understood that her grandparents genuinely cared about her, but that didn’t make the choice any easier.

"I understand, Grandpa," she said, feeling something shift inside her. "It’s a great honor, and I’m grateful to you for it. But I need time to get used to the idea that I have to leave. It’s difficult for me. And I agree to this journey. I want to learn more about myself, about my mother, about the world you’re offering me, but I need you to understand: I’m still attached to this home, to the people who have been with me all these years."

Bennett, who had been standing aside, couldn’t resist and stepped closer to his daughter. His eyes were full of tears, but he held back, not wanting to show weakness.

"Margaret, I’m proud of you," he said quietly, struggling to keep his voice steady. "I know this is a difficult decision, and I support you. No matter how far you go, you will always be my daughter. And you can always come home whenever you want."

Miranda, holding back tears, hugged Margaret, whispering:

"You made the right choice, honey. And we will always be here, even if you leave. We’ll be waiting for you at Christmas and any other holidays."

Margaret felt her heart tighten with tenderness and pain at the same time. She knew she had made the right decision, but it didn’t lessen her longing for the home she now had to leave.

Enola smiled, noticing the tears in her granddaughter’s eyes.

"We understand, dear," she said. "You can always come back here whenever you want. This house and these people will always be part of your life. We just want you to know that you have another home, where you will always be welcome. We don’t want to replace your parents; we want to be part of your life, just like they are."

Margaret nodded, feeling that these words brought her comfort.

"Thank you, Grandma, Grandpa," she said softly, looking at her family. "I’m ready. But please, let’s move slowly. I need time to get used to everything."

Mr. Fairchild nodded, his face remaining serious, but pride was visible in his eyes.

"You will always be part of our family," he said. "And we will be waiting for you in our home with open arms."

Bennett felt a sense of relief. He saw that Margaret had made her choice, and it was a mature and thoughtful one.

"Margaret," he said, stepping closer, "I’m proud of you. No matter how hard it is, I know you will succeed. We will all be waiting for you here when you decide to come back."

Margaret turned to her father and saw in his eyes not only support but also something new—a sincere care that she had been seeking for so long.

"Thank you, Dad," she quietly replied. "I’ll write to you, I promise."

They all stood together, feeling the tension gradually fade away. Margaret knew that challenges lay ahead, but she was ready to face them, with the support of her family, both old and new, behind her.

Gathering her belongings, Margaret headed toward the exit, ready to embark on a journey to her new home. Her heart was full of mixed emotions: fear of the unknown, sadness at saying goodbye to the home and people who had become her family, and a small, barely noticeable spark of hope for new discoveries.

When the moment of farewell came, she stood at the entrance of the house where she had spent all eleven years of her life. Before leaving, she glanced back at Miranda, who stood by the door, watching as Margaret left. Miranda’s eyes were full of anxiety, but also love. In that moment, Margaret felt her heart fill with gratitude for everything Miranda had done for her.

“Goodbye, Mom,” Margaret quietly said, calling Miranda by that word for the first time. The word, spoken for the first time by her, resonated warmly in both of their hearts.

Miranda, unable to hold back her tears, rushed to her and embraced her tightly. Despite the seriousness of the moment, her face was lit up by a happy smile.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” she replied, gently stroking Margaret’s blonde hair. “Remember that we’re always here for you, and you can always come back.”

Margaret hugged her back, feeling the warmth of those words and the support they carried. She knew that this moment was important not only for her but for Miranda as well.

“I’ll miss you too,” she replied, trying to hold back tears.

When they finally pulled apart, Margaret looked at her father, who was standing nearby. She turned to her father, who silently stood by. Bennett sighed, his gaze expressing a whole spectrum of emotions that he had kept hidden for so long.

“Take care of yourself, Margaret,” he said.

She nodded in response, taking one last look at her home before taking a deep breath and turning toward her grandparents, who were waiting for her by the car. When the door closed, she felt the world around her begin to change.

[imdonnalynn]

You Hesitated, I Didn't (1/1) REPOST

Summary: Why did River hesitate to shoot Mal down in the maidenhead? Why did Mal bring her back on board? Prequel to You Broke Me, But In A Good Way

Pairing: Malcolm Reynolds/River Tam

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 695

Warnings: Language, violence, outcome of mental, psychological and physical abuse at the hands of a government agency.

A/N: Another repost of mine from over a decade ago.

Disclaimer: The characters of Firefly (series) / Serenity (film) do not belong to me so do not sue me for copywrite infringement.

----------

“You hesitated…why’d you hesitate?” Mal whispered hauntingly running a hand through his spiked hair uneasily. River…he thought he understood her as best as anyone could. How wrong he was. Question was…was she a person or a weapon to be triggered at a moment's notice? His thoughts ran rampant, and River could hear and feel every single one of them as if they were her own. With him being so close and his emotions so raw she could barely shield herself from them. It was always hard to shield from Mal. Little did he know she wasn’t asleep but feigning sleep. She was too afraid to open her eyes in fear of his reaction. She could feel his anger, concern, fear and confusion.

He was angry at Simon, angry at her, for not telling him the whole truth about what was done to her. Angry that she could have snapped at any time and hurt one of the crew or worse, killed them. Concern over the crew and what was going to happen next. The fear she could understand. He saw her in action, and she scared herself, so she knew even Mal had to be unsettled. His confusion is what puzzled her…that was something else entirely.

In the maidenhead when she was triggered everything was so precise, so clear, every punch, every kick landed as it should have, but when she drew down on Mal…she hesitated…a full two seconds…why did she hesitate? She did not know the answer to her own question. Did Mal somehow break through her conditioning? Had the eight months aboard Serenity finally start to help her? It was too early to tell but she was hopeful. Serenity felt more like home than any place ever had. Now she feared she would have to leave that home…for the crew’s sake.

“What are you, River?” he asked himself to stare down at her, unaware of her conscious form.

I don’t know…she whispered inside her mind. I can’t tell where I end and where I begin anymore. Too many secrets, too many illusions, too many walls…everything’s a dead end at a new path…

“I don’t care what you believe…just believe…” she whispered feeling Mal’s gaze upon her.

At her voice Mal was startled out of his own thoughts. “River?” he didn’t know if she was awake or if she was talking in her sleep.

She shook her head against the grated floor. “No…” she whispered. “…it’s broken.” She laced her fingers into the grated floor as if she were trying to figure out a puzzle.

Mal tilted his head down at her. “What’s broken River?” he tried to keep a quiet soothing tone.

“Miranda,” she said.

“Miranda?” he returned. “What’s Miranda?” he knew it was pointless to ask a simple question but what the hell.

She studied her hand for a moment then sat up and turned her gaze to stare him in the eye. “Death…” she then started to tear up. “It’s not mine…it isn’t mine and I shouldn’t have to carry it!” she quietly started to cry and brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “I’m like a toy that everyone wants to play with.”

Mal was in front of her before he realized what he was doing. “Now you listen to me little one,” he tipped her chin to make her look at him. “You’re nobody’s toy xiao mei?”

She laughed, “Bullet to me? Right in the brain pan, squish!”

He shook his head realizing what she sensed from earlier and put a finger to her lips, “Don’t talk like that River…” he trailed off as she started into a rant.

“Always something, never anything, all the same, why can’t it at least slow down,” she cried a few tears falling down her face.

Mal sighed and wiped them away cupping her face.

“Why did you bring me back?” she whispered against his hand helplessly. “Things are only going to get much, much worse.”

There was a long silence between them.

“Why did you hesitate?”

She slowly looked into his eyes and they both had their answers to their questions…they don’t know why, but they’ll understand some day.

THE END

Read sequel You Broke Me, But In A Good Way

[valleynix]

Ooh just got to the part where the reader saw a bit into Bela’s mind and her past! Do you have any headcanons on how the dimi daughters were when they were first reborn?

i actually do! these are for TPtM's universe, anyway :D

(A/N: this got a lot longer than I was anticipating. I may have gone a little overboard and went into a little more detail about their backstories than you probably wanted, but here we are :D)

Bela Dimitrescu

i imagine all three girls were originally from the village before getting to the castle and where they are now, and Bela (at least in TPtM's universe) was from a rather poor family

her parents were never really proud of anything she did and thought of her more as a burden than an actual child, something she still holds onto even after she can no longer remember this part of her

it's why she constantly tries to prove herself to Alcina, why it hurts her so deeply when anyone is even slightly disappointed in her

she probably ended up falling in love with another woman in the village, and this was likely frowned upon at the time

more so because Castle Dimitrescu was taking more people than usual lately, and they needed more children around (something the lady of the castle refused to take in the night)

her parents likely tossed her to the street for being weird and not accepting their demands to marry a man with more money than they had

word spread quickly, and she was looked down upon from everyone in the village

even the woman she'd fallen in love with ignored her and called her a freak for what she's done

she's come to find that everyone leaves her, eventually

she's heard the rumors and stories surrounding Castle Dimitrescu, and one fateful night, she decides to seek out the woman living there

she has nothing else to live for, abandoned by those she thought would love her unconditionally

Alcina is very skeptical of her at first, mostly because she found Bela wandering around her castle in the middle of the night

she's in a sorry state; blonde hair matted and messy, clothes torn and face dirty, brown eyes filled with so much despair

normally, Alcina wouldn't think twice about sending some strange woman to the cellar to be dealt with later, but part of her - the part that still clings to her humanity - takes pity on her

and she sees the opportunity that could arise out of this situation, as well. someone malleable who can be taught to handle the things she's too busy to deal with

she feeds Bela, helps her bathe, brushes the matting out of her hair, but only on the condition that she sign a working contract for Castle Dimitrescu

Bela does, of course. she'd be a fool not to

Alcina develops a bond with the strange woman she'd seen wandering her castle, often gifting her with the praise she'd so desperately sought out from her own flesh and blood

she feels like a mother to Bela, something she finds she's always searched for and could never find among the heathens in the village

so, when the time comes for Mother Miranda to experiment once again, Alcina sees the opportunity that could arise

she loves Bela dearly, as one should their own child, and to have the chance to keep her around for much longer than an average human life? she'd take that risk any day

it's nighttime when she brings up the question, and Bela is... hesitant

Alcina assures her that nothing will go wrong, not as long as she is there to keep her safe, and that settles it

Miranda arrives the next day, and Alcina sits with Bela on her bed, holding her hand, giving her the comfort and reassurance she's never had

Bela does not want this to go wrong, but she understands that if it does, she will be free

she won't have to suffer from nightmares any longer, she won't have to hear her parents' disapproving voices in the back of her head

she will be safe and she will be loved

isn't that all she's ever wanted? 

she winces when Miranda makes the incision on her head, but she is fine. she has to be strong for her new family

everything is fine, at first

then the pain starts

it spikes through her skull and she fights almost immediately. she tries to sit up, to get away from whatever is crawling in her brain, but Alcina holds her down, even as tears stream down her cheeks and ruin what little makeup she usually has on

she screams and writhes, begs for someone to help her, and Alcina gently coos at her, caresses her face, whispers that she’s fine, it’ll be over soon enough, just be strong-

and she tries, she really does

but she’s so scared

she doesn’t want to die

she thinks of her parents and that woman, of everything she wants to say to them, every bit of pain she wishes she could inflict on them for everything they’ve done to her

her fear turns into anger as she continues fighting against Alcina, as her legs kick out and one smacks against Miranda’s golden mask, knocking it off her face

tears continue streaming down her cheeks as her lip curls and she bares her teeth in fury

it feels as though something is eating at her skin, biting and gripping and sticking-

in the end, she passes out from the pain of being eaten alive

she doesn’t expect to wake up

everything is peaceful in that state of blackness, and for the first time in a long time, she is safe

when her eyes eventually reopen, bugs buzzing around her materializing hand, she’s so... lost

the room is dark, and it seems she’s the only one in it

she can’t remember who she is or why she’s there

she doesn’t remember anything

Bela sits up in the bed she was laying in, bringing a hand up to her head, hissing through her teeth when her palm brushes against a rather sore spot there

“easy,” comes a soft voice at her side

she looks around, eyes landing on the large form of a woman sitting in a chair next to her bed. she smiles gently, reassuringly, and Bela cannot help but feel a sort of attachment to this woman, despite not recognizing her

“my name is Alcina Dimitrescu. do you know where you are?”

she shakes her head, blonde hair falling into her face

the woman smiles at that, lifting her chin and revealing more of her shadowed face. two glowing, golden eyes stare back at her, sending a chill down her spine

“good,” the woman says. “then we may begin.” she clasps her hands in her lap, tilting her head to the side. “it’s wonderful to finally meet you, Bela.”

it takes time for her to adjust to her new body - longer limbs than she’s used to, making her rather clumsy, and the bugs that appear when she’s feeling any kind of emotion

she feels just like a newborn learning how to walk and speak, but some part of her, deep down, feels as though this is where she belongs

she becomes the eldest Dimitrescu daughter, a title she learns to hold with immense pride

she lives her life as Alcina’s shadow, doing the things her mother wishes of her, always met with a head pat and verbal praise when she completes any tasks

Bela can’t help but feel this is where she has always belonged

Cassandra Dimitrescu

she’s always been a protector

it’s just in her blood; she protects those she cares for, though they are few and far between

she is a huntress for her family, for her younger brother, all of whom are incapable of doing so themselves

they are working to repay their debt to Castle Dimitrescu, and Cassandra provides food for their table

it’s not a bad life. she doesn’t mind the reputation that follows her, the whispers she hears when she walks through the streets of the village

she’s just glad to be alive another day, and she will continue doing what it takes to keep her family alive

she knows the Dimitrescus - there are two of them now - will come for her family eventually, and she supposes she’s trying to prepare for that time

she doesn’t mind being known as a sadist around the village. she hunts and protects. it’s all she’s ever known

she takes on all the responsibility of her younger brother to keep him safe, to prevent him from witnessing the vile sides of their parents

he deserves a better life than this

in her spare time, something she rarely has, Cassandra will sit outside, hidden in the trees, and sketch what she can

the buildings around the village, a dead lycan, a goat, even the maiden statue in the middle of the village

part of her actually enjoys the fear she sees when she walks through the streets, weapons strapped to her back and sides, and she finds herself smiling at the realization 

what does it matter to her, that these idiots are afraid of her? it means they’ll keep away

even after her rebirth, this sticks with Cassandra. she knows she’s not as pretty or well-spoken as her sisters are, and she’s fine with that

she will not let anything else happen to her new family, going to any lengths in order to prevent these horrible things from happening

there is one night, after an intense yelling match with her younger brother, that Cassandra leaves and hides for hours

her parents had wanted her to take him out of the village on a hunting trip for the night, something completely out of the ordinary, but she argued with him before she even remembered what she was supposed to do

it was something stupid, and she knows he’s too young to really know why she’s gone all the time

she left her small and crowded home as the sun was disappearing beneath the mountains, and it is well into the night that she hears screaming

she thinks nothing of it, at first

it’s not uncommon for the newest Dimitrescu daughter to have nightly outings in which she will take her newest victim back to the castle

she watches the forest move and breathe, trying her best to calm down before she returns to her home with a cleared mind

lycans howl in tune with the Dimitrescu daughter’s cackles, and Cassandra wonders if she should return now, but she does value her life

she knows her family is safe. nothing would happen to them while she was around

some time later, the screams stop, and so do the giggles and laughter

Cassandra resigns herself to return, and she stands with a sigh, brushing she snow from her legs

the cold had long since settled in her bones, but she was used to it, now

she turns to make her way back to the village, only to be stopped by the person she sees standing among the trees, hidden by the shadows

two glowing, golden eyes stare back at her

“i see i missed one,” the Dimitrescu daughter says, her voice almost kind

she steps further into the moonlight, blood splattered on her clothing and dripping off her jaw and chin

Cassandra swallows and reaches for the knife she usually has on her, holstered at her hip

she grasps nothing but air

her heart stutters in her chest, and it seems the Dimitrescu in front of her realizes at the same moment that she is defenseless

“your family put up quite the fight.” Cassandra’s heart drops to her stomach as her eyes widen. “it’s a shame they couldn’t repay my mother. you might’ve had more time with them.”

as she stares at the Dimitrescu, she just sees red

she should have-

this is her fault

she knows she shouldn’t, but she can’t stop herself from yelling out in frustration and lunging for the Dimitrescu in front of her

she’s dodged with ease, but Cassandra has been hunting for years

after a few minutes of listening to the Dimitrescu cackle and mock her, she manages to grab a rock in the snow and stab at the bigger woman with it

it goes straight through her shoulder and part of her chest as her form becomes flies

the Dimitrescu pauses as Cassandra pants and watches her body materialize again, becoming a solid form once more

“well,” she says as her eyes find Cassandra’s, “Mother is going to like you.”

the next thing she knows, a sickle is raised, and the end of it is bashed against her temple, sending her toward the forest floor as she blacks out

she wakes intermittently, eyes blurry as she tries to focus

she’s being dragged through the forest, then part of the village, and finally, through what looks like a hallway

for her crimes against Alcina Dimitrescu’s daughter and for offending her, Cassandra is sentenced to death

but, the daughter, whose name she learns is Bela, offers her a choice for being such a good huntress and actually getting the drop on her

go through what she did, become an experiment

there is the risk of dying, but if she survives, she will become like her

and she believes, then, she can enact her revenge

so, she goes through the experiment

she grits her teeth against the pain, eyes boring into Bela’s, hatred fueling her, the only thing keeping her awake and alive, she thinks

the Dimitrescu daughter only grins back at her, blood dried on her lips and cheeks

she has no support, and her hands are bound to the bed

Alcina Dimitrescu stands nearby as the incision is made on her head, and she is given some kind of weird smelling liquid to help with the pain

instead, it forces her unconscious 

when she reopens her eyes after spending what feels like an eternity in that state of darkness, a woman with blonde hair and brightly glowing eyes sits with her, watching her, almost studying her

Cassandra freaks

she doesn’t know why she does, but her first instinct is to fight, even if she’s not in any immediate danger

she lunges for the grinning bastard, grabbing a hold of her shoulders and tackling her to the floor, fist raising to bash her face in-

she only gets one hit off of the woman before a large hand grabs onto the back of her clothing and yanks her off, almost like one would a kitten

she’s held in the air, fighting for a moment to get back to the woman on the ground and inflict pain on her, but she gives up after it’s clear she won’t be getting down anytime soon

she frowns and crosses her arms over her chest, glaring at the woman as she stands and swipes the back of her hand across her bloody nose

“well,” she sighs, eyes drooping as she stares up at Cassandra. “it seems it worked, Mother.”

“perhaps a little too well,” someone behind her mumbles. “do you remember anything, young one?”

Cassandra kicks out a leg, still pouting in the air, even if she would never admit to doing such a thing

“what do you want from me?”

someone hums, and then she’s being set back on the floor. a hand finds its way to her shoulder, and then she’s being turned to face a tall woman, watching her carefully

then, she smiles warmly

“welcome to the family, Cassandra.”

it takes time for her to adjust, though she’s given free reign around the castle she now inhabits 

Bela, someone she comes to accept is her older sister, shows her around, informs her of everything she now is

she comes to see Alcina Dimitrescu as a mother, and despite having a family, despite belonging...

she can’t help but feel something is missing

she doesn’t understand what purpose she has while she spends her days inside Castle Dimitrescu

some part of her seeks to hurt in order to quell the pain she feels in her head, and so, she spends most of her time in the cellar, unable to comprehend what she’s feeling

she wonders if she hurts the disobedient maids as a way to protect her newfound family

if that’s the case, she will learn to enjoy it

Daniela Dimitrescu

she’s never had what one would call a normal family

the youngest of three, she was nothing more than a mistake, something she was shown and told time and time again by her older siblings and struggling father

she tries to be like them as much as she can, in order to gain her father’s approval

nothing ever works, and it becomes something she still latches onto, even after she finds a loving family and two older sisters that love and adore her simply because they can

Daniela comes to seek approval from anyone around her, hoping someone will take an interest in her, and she latches onto anyone that does

the woman at Duke’s stall that pays for a book she wants, the man that offers to help her get home, the older woman that pats her head and tells her that everything will be fine, soon

nothing ever gets better, she finds

all she’s ever wanted was the approval of her family, something that would give her the love she so desperately craves

she doesn’t know what it’s like to be cared for unconditionally 

her brothers and father speak of her mother often, someone that died giving birth to her

it’s why they hate her so much, why they wish she was never born in the first place

months ago, she’d seen the woman around the village everyone feared, the one that hunted and always had at least four weapons on her at all times

one night, Daniela thought of finding this woman, thought of seeking her protection and care

everyone struggles in the village, though, and she likely has her own issues to deal with

so, she tries to remain quiet and nothing more than a little shadow no one can pay attention to

as soon as she becomes of age, her father sells her to Lady Dimitrescu

she wants to fight, wants to beg him to let her stay, to love her

instead, she keeps her mouth shut, silently crying when the grand chambermaid comes to investigate her

a week later, she’s brought to the castle

she’s reassured that she will be taken care of here, that no one will hurt her and she will be fed

her wages will go to her, not her family

she settles in rather easily, but she’s still an outcast

she’s different

Daniela recognizes some of the women working in the castle, ones she’s seen from the village

she imagines that is why they refuse to talk to her

they don’t go out of their way to make her life harder, but they sure as hell don’t make it any easier

about two weeks into her time spent working at the castle, she does begin letting her guard down a little

she’s fed, she has a steady roof over her head, and she hasn’t heard a word from her father since arriving

at the same time, though, she is assigned to clean the Dimitrescus personal wing of the castle

it’s something she knows is a death wish

around noon, she’s given the task of scrubbing the floors from what looks like a pool of blood, though there’s no body to accompany it

bugs buzz around her ears not long after, and she completely freezes

two figures materialize in front of her, and she keeps her head down as best she can

“working by yourself?” the oldest mumbles. “how unlike the grand chambermaid to assign such a thing.”

the younger one hums and crouches. “are they trying to get you killed?”

Daniela lifts her head, heart thundering against her ribcage, and watches the brunette carefully

she smiles back, a little sinister, sending a chill down Daniela’s spine

“Cassandra,” the oldest sighs. “be nice. this is the one Mother warned us about.”

Daniela’s brows furrow as she watches the siblings. she’s reminded of her older brothers, of their larger forms overpowering her and sneering at her as they mocked any little thing she did

her limbs shake as she looks back at the bloodied ground, tears welling in her eyes

she doesn’t want to be seen as weak in front of this family, she doesn’t want it to be like before

they end up leaving her to her own devices, and a few hours later, the younger one returns with a small muffin and hands it to her with a simple, “you’re doing a good job. i’ve spoken with the grand chambermaid.”

she doesn’t want to think on why she doesn’t see the older woman anymore

over time, the Dimitrescu siblings start spending more time around Daniela, something she doesn’t quite understand 

surely they had better things to do?

she slowly starts to belong with them

she spends most of her time around the younger one, who usually waits nearby while she cleans or prepares her bed

sometimes she’ll make idle conversation, asking about Daniela’s family, something she intentionally refrains from ever speaking about

eventually, there comes a time, months later, than both siblings wake her up before the sun has even risen

they take her to the library, a vast room filled with shelves upon shelves of books

it’s like Daniela’s heaven

she’s told that this is her task: every morning, she is to clean the library and rearrange the books however she sees fit

once she’s done, she’s able to read whatever she wishes until the siblings find something else for her to do

and, if there’s nothing to clean, she’s allowed to simply sit in the library and relax until someone finds something for her to do

a year after her employment, she celebrates her birthday with the two siblings, who seem to think of her as their younger sister, something that makes this birthday so much better than any she’s ever had before

they give her the day off, something they say they’ll hide from their mother, and they give her the option to see her family again

she’s always turned them down before, but maybe...

she does end up going back to her family, something she despises calling them now that she has a sense of belonging with the Dimitrescu sisters, and she decides to rub in their faces that they tried to get her killed, and she is thriving

it ends up being a mistake going back, and once she can sneak back out of that wretched house that night, she rushes back to the castle, sobbing and aching and just wanting to be held and comforted-

Cassandra finds her hiding in the library as she sobs and curls in on herself, tucked into a corner behind a large shelf

she panics for just a moment as the older woman stands tall and imposing above her, and she’s reminded of her brothers doing the same thing

she flinches when Cassandra crouches and reaches for her, and that must cause her to refrain from touching her

she watches the older woman carefully, hands still outstretched, frowning as she watches Daniela

the latter sobs as she lunges forward, wrapping her arms around Cassandra and holding her tight

the Dimitrescu sister sits on the floor and holds her close, keeping her safe and out of harm’s way

Bela ends up finding them, and she asks what happened, why Daniela is crying and hiding

she tells them both, and a few days later, word spreads around the castle of an unfortunate accident involving her father and brothers

both Dimitrescu siblings deny being involved in such a thing, but Daniela knows better

she smiles and sleeps a little better at night

about a week after that, as Daniela is tucked into a sofa in the library lost in one of her books, Bela and Cassandra enter

they ask her if she’d like to become like them, whatever that means

they were just... human, weren’t they?

she doesn’t understand why everyone is so afraid of them

when she asks for clarification, Bela tells her, “if you do become like us... you won’t have to fear anyone ever again.”

that settles it for her

she doesn’t want to be afraid, and she doesn’t want to be alone

they bring her to their mother, asking her then about their plan to help Daniela become one of them

their mother is skeptical, at first, but she agrees when both siblings say please

they stay with Daniela throughout it all, giving her some kind of tea that eases her anxieties and helps her fall asleep

they promise to be there when she wakes

it takes her longer to finally wake up after her rebirth, and when she does, the first thing she notices is that her head is so crowded

she has these urges to act out on, but for a while, she manages to keep them under control

that same control snaps when she’s incredibly emotional

two women she doesn’t really remember - who she finds are named Bela and Cassandra - show her around, all giddy that she’s awake and they can finally be around her again

she learns to recognize them as her sisters, and they fully accept the notion. they keep her safe and protect her, and Alcina Dimitrescu, her new mother, spoils her and gives her whatever she asks for

there is a time, months after she’s settled in, that Daniela asks if she had any family before. she can’t seem to remember

Bela and Cassandra share a look from across the dinner table, and it’s the former that answers as they wait for their mother to join them

“we’ve always been your family.”

Daniela, despite not remembering anything of her past, despite not knowing who she was before she became a Dimitrescu...

she realizes, after some time, that this is what home should feel like

[larabiatasstuff]

Part four🖤

We were busy preparing the truck the next morning, John and Sweet Tooth checking the tires and everything while Quiet and I were loading some food." Fuck, fuck guys we have a problem. " Miranda said running towards us, a radio in her hand. " What's wrong? "I asked." Tinker went to the junkyard for some parts. She took longer than usual so I sent some of our scouts. Stone's men got her and they took her to the prison on highway 56. "I gasped." Y/N are you okay? " Quiet asked putting as hand on my back." I know that prison. That's were I escaped from. Where they wanted to... kill me. We need to help her. " " Yeah, we'll get her out of there right big guy? " John said putting an arm around Sweet Tooth's shoulders "You helped Y/N when she was in need. Now it's my turn to help you." he said. " Alright here sweetie take this, so you can contact John and Quiet in case you have to split up." Miranda said handing me the radio. "Alright, I know where to go let's do this." with that Sweet Tooth got on the drivers seat and started the engine, John and Quiet following behind. "Guys can you hear me?" I said into the radio "Yep loud and clear what is it?" "There's a parking lot behind some containers, we should park there and get in from behind." "Roger, we follow you." came John's voice from the other side. "Who's Roger?" Sweet Tooth asked. "Are you serious?" "Why? Who is that Y/N?" he asked. "You say that when you're talking over radio to show the person on the other end that you understand them.". "Oooohhhh okay." "Why are you asking? Are you jealous Sweet Tooth?" he looked at me. "Me? Pah I don't even know what jealousy is. I mean who is jealous of a guy called Roger." I laughed "Gosh you're really cute sometimes, you know that?" "I have my moments." he said and parked the truck behind a huge container. Then he opened the back door and took out his machete and handed me the shotgun. "Okay what's the plan?" John asked. "I think we should split up. You and Sweet Tooth take care of the first and second floor that's were most of the guards are. Quiet and I are sneaking into a window that leads to the top floor. There are just two guards watching the inmates. Quiet and I will definitely be able to handle them. " "Sounds good to me. " John said. "Yeah but you will be careful, don't get yourself in danger."Sweet Tooth said "I promise. Okay we have to hurry,let's go." Quiet and I sneaked around the building until we reached a ladder that was attached to the wall. "See that window up there? That's where they keep the people that don't obey their orders. We go in take out the guards and free the people." "Got it, let's go."

Part five🖤

[genuine-wrestleboy]

all i want is to be your harbor (10/?)

((on ao3))

Days drift on into weeks after that, brisk autumn bottoming out into biting winter. Heisenberg makes no further visit to the reservoir, but the cold does, seeping in through the open doorways of the mines. With how hot you run, it doesn’t bother you much, but it slows Moreau to nearly a crawl. His joints seem to fare the worst of it, forcing him into a hobble that you ameliorate with a cane whittled down from some salvaged driftwood. 

You take the initiative to move your living quarters deeper into the mines, to a little cluster of joined rooms you refer to playfully as the “winter suite”. You tack up heavy curtains along the doorframes and pile a rickety cot with all the quilts and blankets you can find or barter from The Duke. Moreau procures a little silver box that he refers to as a “space heater”, which he rigs up to the mines’ precarious lighting system, and you marvel at the flameless glow until you scald your fingers trying to touch it.

The result is downright cozy, by the only standards that matter, and you end your evening now, as you have for the past few days, curled up by Moreau with grandmother’s book of fairytales. He picks distractedly at a plate of cheese while you read the opening chapter of Pinocchio, occasionally passing you a piece insistently until you laugh and accept it. 

He’s been...very attentive, as of late, in more ways than one, and as a result you’ve rarely spent time without one another’s company. It’s been sweet, and gentle, the careful, eager exploration of something coming into bloom. You can go full days without even thinking about Mother Miranda or the horrors she has planned, and it seems like such concerns have fled Moreau entirely. You don’t begrudge him that; you would take it on a thousand times over to spare him any pain you could, but you do sometimes wonder whether it’s dangerous to let yourselves lull into a sense of security that could still be ripped away without warning at any moment.

It makes you antsy, considering it now. You falter mid-sentence, memories of the Cathedral eating into your concentration like moths through wool, and where once was a mischievous puppet made from wood now stands only a giggling little doll in a tattered wedding dress.

“Are you, a-alright?” Moreau touches your arm gently. “Are you, feeling sick again?”

You shake your head, regretting that you’ve been so obvious. “No, it’s not that. I—do you ever speak to Lady Beneviento?”

“D-Donna?” He considers the question, thrown by the sudden change in topic. “From time to time. More than the o-others, certainly."

"Oh?" You prompt gently.

 "I, yes. She is, the kindest of my siblings by far.”

It’s a low bar to clear, but you’re happy to hear it nonetheless.

“Why, do you ask?”

It’s a fair question, and one you find you have no simple answer for. You’ve wondered about her, here and there, since the Cathedral, the unmoving figure and her moving doll, curiosity never quite letting them leave your thoughts for long. So, there’s that. Then there’s the fact that she’s the only one of Moreau’s siblings that you haven’t properly met, haven’t even spoken to. It feels wrong, somehow—not that you expect everything in Moreau’s life to be an open book to you, but if the inscrutable logic of your life continues to hold, than it’s only a matter of time before your paths cross again, and you’re eager to make that meeting on your own terms. Not to say that you expect her to be anything like Lady Dimitrescu or Heisenberg, but they’d been surprises enough on their own, and you’re not sure how many more of their ilk you could handle.

Kindness, though. You and Moreau could both stand to handle a lot more of that. You set a hand on his, leaning in.

“Can you introduce me to her?”

Unexpectedly, Moreau doesn’t answer right away. His jaw works soundlessly, his hand clenching and unclenching beneath yours. His silence seems withdrawn, somehow, reluctant in a way that you don’t understand.

“Is something wrong?” you ask. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“N-no, no, you—it’s not that,” Moreau assures you. He clutches at your fingers, pulls in a wet gulp of breath. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

It’s not quite like a slap, but it sobers you nonetheless. “Would she hurt me?”

“She w-woud not mean to,” says Moreau quickly, “but she can’t tell, sometimes, that it’s bad.”

“Bad?”

“Her gift,” explains Moreau, pawing nervously at your skirts. “It makes things confusing.”

Well. You’ve survived worse than confusing.

“But it’s something you would like, for us to visit her?”

“Very, very much,” says Moreau timidly.

“Then I’d still like it, too,” you say, bending to press a kiss to his fidgeting fingers. “Tell me about her gift, and whatever it is you’re worried about, we'll figure it out together.”

So he does, and you do. Moreau tells you about his sister’s flowers, about her dolls, about her powers and her loneliness. He tells you how upset it had made Mother Miranda, when she tore up her Cadou the way she did. He doesn’t know much more about Angie than you do, though you notice he speaks with a little more hesitancy about the doll than her mistress. Through it all he maintains his insistence that you have nothing to fear from her, not really, and you try not to let the almost frantic repetition of it touch your nerves.

Two weeks a several notes exchanged through The Duke later, you and Moreau begin just past noon on the long walk up from the reservoir to the Beneviento manor. It’s slow going in the cold, Moreau bundled up at your side and leaning heavily on his walking stick. He sways toward you and the heat you give off, jostling the package in your arms.

 You balance it to one side, trying not to let it tilt. The warm smell of baked fish wafts up from within it with the movement, your offering against the horror of showing up to this occasion empty-handed. Your stomach gurgles longingly.

The hill crests before you, dipping away one way towards the village, and climbing further on ahead towards the stark shadows of the forest. At the mouth of the path, just as the trees begin to thicken, stands a high black steel gate. Its presence tugs at something in your mind, but you can’t place why until Moreau pauses beside you, staring up at it with a blinking uncomprehending.

“That’s new,” he notes slowly.

That’s it, then: this hadn’t been here the last time you’d come this way, after the Duke had found you in the village center. You hadn't expected to be back here so soon; whoever put it here had done it awfully quickly.

“Are the villagers not allowed in the forest?”

Moreau shakes his head. “M-many are too afraid, but it has always been allowed.”

Strange, but people had fences for all sorts of reasons. You approach the gate, lift a hand to the pocked surface. It swings open without resistance.

“Oh,” you say, pleasantly surprised. “It isn’t locked.”

“It would be strange if it was.” Moreau sounds grateful. “Donna is, is expecting us.”

You hum in agreement, stepping through the gate and holding it aside for Moreau to follow. She’s expecting you. To think such a thought would inspire more nerves in you than terror, that after the way you’d fled for your life from one of Moreau’s sisters you’d be blithely bringing supper to the other. Not for the first time, you wonder at the life you’ve come to know as your own, how little of it you would recognize only a few short months ago. You, the sole constant, and even that so different now.

Moreau touches your elbow gently. “Now, I think.”

You nod, pulling your scarf up over your mouth and nose. Moreau follows suit. Already in the air you can make out the faint gleam of pollen, sparse scattered motes like the early flurry of snow, gold against the sharp black branches that hang overhead. You could hardly blame anyone too afraid to come this way, after what Moreau has told you, but there’s an undeniable beauty to the sight, a gilt illustration from one of your fairytales.

Briefly, the thought flashes across your mind to catch some of the pollen on your tongue like a snowflake, but you stop yourself before it gets any further than that.

The path winds up through the hillside, jagged black rock softened by clinging white snow. You offer Moreau your arm as the way gets steeper and darker. Mist rises damply at your feet, obscuring the crumbling shapes of the old potter’s field, the whorls of dark reaching root, so that the two of you have to pick your way carefully or risk tripping. Once, you manage it anyway, and fall against Moreau with a cry of surprise, startling a dense flock of crows from the treetops. They flap upwards, cawing angrily, nearly enough of them to create a breeze. In their absence, the whole forest seems brighter.

Eventually, the trees give way to a sudden rise of cliff, and a sheer drop into a wide ravine swirling with waves of mist so thick you can’t see the bottom, or the opposite edge beyond. Into those waves, disappearing into white, stretches the long latticed shadow of a sagging plank bridge.

You clutch at Moreau a little tighter. Even without seeing the full reality of the height, you know it: this is the highest up that you have ever been. Fear curdles in your gut, and you feel your knees weaken beneath you. Moreau pets reassuringly at your shoulder.

“It-it’s safe,” he insists. “I p-promise.”

You nod, assured by the words but unable to look away from that bleak white abyss, to calm the tightness that has squeezed its way into your chest. Moreau reaches tentatively forward, lights his fingertips just beneath the bulk of your scarf, where your heart races a frantic, pounding rhythm.

“Come,” he says. “If I—do you, trust me?”

You manage a weak smile for him. “Yes, of course.”

He takes your hand and shuffles towards the bridge. “I used to be too scared to go across, o-once, too. Mother—she wanted it that way, I think. She doesn’t like it when we talk to e-each other.”

As he says it, he walks, stepping back onto the bridge with a stiff, careful step. You follow, breath held, focusing on the words, the sight of his hand in yours.

“She l-likes it, when we argue, and when the others look down on me, and laugh. It will probably make her angry if she finds out, that we’re here. B-but I want it, and you’re here, so I’m not scared now.”

By the time he finishes your chest is full and light with pride, and it isn’t until you’ve half-flung yourself forward—your face pressed into the folds of cloak, laughing with joy and relief—that you realize you’re standing on solid ground. The bridge is behind you; Moreau brought you safely across.

You press a flurry of scarf-muffled kisses to the palm of his wonderful hand.

“That was a very clever trick. Thank you for that. For making me brave.”

Moreau yanks at his cowl and stammers something inaudible.

The boundary of the Beneviento grounds is marked by another high gate, and this one, though more artfully wrought, opens just as easily as the one before it. Beyond is a long, quiet walk of winter-shorn trellises and chipped statuary, and paths that veer away towards what might be a gardner’s shed and a small greenhouse. 

Peeking here and there by the gateposts are tall-stemmed flowers so bright a yellow they’re like lanterns in the snow. Crowned by clouds of golden pollen, they sway towards you in the wind, and you find yourself with nostrils full of wet-wool smell as you strain without meaning to for the faintest trace of their perfume. Your tongue feels heavy and thick in your mouth, and the clustered yellow shells of petal look like they would be crisp and sweet. Like they would melt on your tongue like the thin sugar-sweets grandmother used to make on solstice nights.

Before the impulse can fully form in your mind, your hand shoots out and crushes one of the plants into your mouth whole to the root.

A sea of fleeting laughter, grey distances you could feel with your fingertips. Deep below you, wound through the rocky soil, a dozen dozen rushing hands, too far, too faint, but rushing, rushing, inexorably ahead like blood to a heart. To be led, to be caught in the stream, to take in and join and greet the source with hunger. To feed—

It's the cold that brings you back, seeping through your skirts where you kneel in the snow and biting at your cheeks as the wind hisses through you. Your mouth is full of dirt, and the heady smell of pollen pools, sick and sweet, in your nostrils. You feel oddly numb.

“No, n-no, no—” Moreau frets at your side, claws scraping at your neck as he scrambles to raise your scarf.

You turn. You turn, and—

Past his shoulder, a flash of movement. A figure down the path, turning away. A grim white face, a shock of carrot-red hair.

It can't be, you saw—oh but you were so turned around in the castle, so frightened and confused. It's not beyond reason that you were mistaken, that the dark and and your own fear had played a horrible trick on you. He'd gone there to be a gardner after all, hadn't he? And here you are now, surrounded by gardens. Maybe you'd misunderstood, maybe he'd come here instead, maybe, maybe—

Hope soars in you as you scramble to your feet.

"Petre?"

Moreau might call your name, but it’s impossible to hear past the sound of all the blood in your body surging suddenly upwards, your pulse a roar in your ears even as your knees tremble traitorously beneath you. Adrenaline seizes you, and you run.

The path blurs past you, black fingers of wood and black spines of iron, silent white statues and white bulks of snow, and ever ahead that impossible hair, blazing like grief in your chest. You run, barely able to catch your breath, much rather clear your mind. All you feel is forward, the desperate pull to go, to go, to go. 

"Petre! Petre!"

The figure disappears as the path slopes downwards. Bent, hoary trees close in on both sides, reaching their knuckles towards one another into a single arching bough that shuts out even the weak winter daylight. The chill that accompanies the sudden darkness cuts clean down to your bones.

The path ends in a cemetery. Like rotting teeth, closely-huddled headstones spear upwards at haphazard angles through a high carpet of yellow flowers on a raised flowerbed that splits the path around it. There’s no sign of Petre, no movement but the flowers bobbing in the wind, the rustling branches overhead.

Then you notice a spatter of something by your feet. A pool of red that you recognize even before you kneel to examine it, and as you come away with blood on your fingertips you hear a frail, distant moan and the dull rattle of chains in thigh-high water. The clotted smell of blood fills your nostrils so thickly that you gag. You cough up a wet sob, clutching your hand to your chest, forcing yourself back to your feet. You slip, as though the cobblestone beneath you were wet. Raising your foot, you find another smear of blood, the next in a trail that leads ahead before turning to vanish behind the graves.

What else can you do? You follow.

The blood goes on in thick drips, here and there splashed up against the gravestones and clinging like horrible glistening mold to the flowers in its path. You focus on putting one foot in front of the other and try not to think about how much of it there is.

 Just on the other side of the cemetery is not a gate but a set of doors, surrounded by a grand carved arch your height four times over. They’re cut directly into the crumbling hillside, a passage into the rock itself. As you approach you notice a pale hand curl itself around the edge and pull one of the doors shut, clicking with a foreboding finality. Some part of you must understand how this goes, because the handle refuses to turn under your hand, but you feel no trace of surprise. 

What you do feel, however, is a bone-deep despair that settles over you like exhaustion. Another sob heaves its way up and out of your mouth as you pound a flat hand against the wood, crying Petre’s name from your raw throat. From your roiling gut, the urge to scream. You give in, both hands clenched into trembling fists, and both fists bruising themselves against the indifferent doors.

 It makes no difference; Petre doesn’t come back to you, and the lock stays shut.

You inhale shakily and exhale on a sob.

From the slope behind you, a familiar voice, winded and weak, calls your name. Moreau appears over the crest of the hill, struggling to carry something unwieldily in his arms. You rush immediately to help, and his posture sags noticeably in relief when he spots you.

“I f-found you.”

“You found me.” You realize as you're taking it that the thing he’s carrying is your dish, the fish you’d left behind in your mad dash here—your stupid fish, and for some reason that makes the tears start all over again, your chest aching, and you’re so glad to see him, which makes it even worse, somehow.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” you assure him quickly. “I’m fine, but I saw—I thought I saw—no, no, I’m sure, I’m sure, and he’s hurt, Moreau, I—”

Moreau looks at you, wringing his hands, and you remember yourself.

“It wasn’t real, was it.” The realization tastes like iron.

“N-no,” confirms Moreau wretchedly.

You swallow thickly, wiping your free hand against your apron. The blood on your fingers has vanished.

 "Well now I feel foolish." A harsh, bitter laugh. “I—oh. but it seemed so real.”

“It always does,” says Moreau miserably.

RIght, you’d talked about this. Moreau had warned you, and yet you’d still plunged into it headfirst given the first opportunity. Of course it wasn’t real, of course it wasn’t, but the sick, sucking grief in your gut, the memory of that brief rush of hope—those are. What are you supposed to do with those now?

Moreau touches your arm gently, and you grasp after him, pressing your face into his hands. Your cheeks feel hot and tight, your lashes tacky with tears. You hiccough a single, dry sob.

“Just. Give me a minute, I’ll be alright.”

“What did you see?” Moreau asks.

“A friend,” you reply hoarsely, and it seems to echo.

“I’m s-sorry, please—”

He gestures and you pull back obligingly to let him readjust the scarf over your face. He sighs a little, an emotion you can’t quite parse.

“The pollen, affects everyone a little differently,” he says, half like he’s trying to convince himself. “But Donna, she means it to be kind.”

It’s too soon for it to be much of a consolation.

“You can cry, if you want to.”

You shake your head. “I’ve cried enough for today I think. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

Moreau makes a frustrated sound and clutches at your wrist. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, seeming at a loss for words. When you lean forward to seek out his eyes, he ducks his head and releases his hold on you in favor of picking anxiously at his scarf.

“I saw, M-Mother Miranda, the first time.”

“Oh,” you say, struck.

Moreau spreads his hands. “She means it, to be kind.”

“Okay,” you say. You reach out with your free hand and take his again, squeezing comfort into your grasp. It matters, doesn’t it? That the intentions there are good. It’s a welcome balm over the open wound those good intentions have left behind, even if it doesn’t do much more. You won’t hold it against Lady Beneviento, though. It’s the least you can do. It also feels a little, right now, like the most you can do.

“Shall we keep going? The door was, ah, well, maybe you should take a look at it.”

The door is still locked when Moreau tries it, and he looks as confused as you feel.

“But, Donna is expecting us.” He claws worriedly at his hood, then flaps a hand towards a brass plaque bolted to the doorframe. “What does that say?”

“This? You can see it?”

Moreau nods. “That’s new, too.”

You run a thumb over the simple line of clean raised letters. “Give up your memories,” you read.

Moreau presses next to you to examine the words for himself.

“Memories?”

“It sounds like a riddle,” you tell him. You’ve read plenty of them, riddles that kept gates and guarded secrets, permitting entry only if you were clever enough to solve them. You hadn’t imagined you’d ever see one for yourself.

“Does it make any sense to you?”

“No,” groans Moreau. “It seems, u-unlike her.”

You stare at the plaque as though you might find some clue hidden in the words themselves. There’s a slot in one of the doors, the same dull brass as the plaque; you lift it carefully and squint through, but all there is on the other side is darkness. Give up your memories. Is it being literal? Are you meant to speak something into the slot? But, no, that would be sharing a memory, you wouldn’t be giving it up. Unless the pollen could make you forget it somehow? The way it’s written sounds like it’s supposed to be a conscious action, though, a choice. Presumably, then, in order for it to work properly you have to know that you’re giving something away. So something physical, probably. A memento.

It occurs to you, horribly, that you have something that fits the description exactly. Just one thing. The realization is like a pin to your lungs, all the air rushing out of you in one dangerously wet gasp. You’re done crying for today, you remind yourself, but. But.

“I have an idea,” you tell Moreau, and you can hear the tremble in your own voice. “But even if it works, I don’t think I like it.”

“You don’t h-have to,” insists Moreau.

You put on the bravest face you can muster. “We didn’t come all this way just to turn around now, did we? Just cross your fingers that it works for me.”

You can’t let yourself hesitate or you’ll never do it; with quick, careful movements, you pull grandmother’s comb out of your hair and slip it through the brass slot in the door. A moment of tense, terrible silence—you can taste your heartbeat in your throat—and then a muted, metallic click as the lock slides open.

“You solved it,” says Moreau, pawing excitedly at your arm.

You flash him a smile. “It’s because you crossed your fingers.”

The door opens into a low passage of carved brown stone. Niches in the walls bear lit candles surrounded by blobby puddles of ancient wax, milky icicles dripping downwards over the course of years. As if no one ever came to snuff them out, as if they might burn on like this, unconsumed, for a dozen courses more. You hold out a hand towards one; the heat of it reaches you.

“Are these lit to you?” you ask Moreau, who nods. You hum thoughtfully, tugging down your scarf just long enough to blow lightly on the candle flame, watching it flicker expectedly. You don’t blow hard enough to put it out, just in case.

You and Moreau continue along the passage until you come to a small room. To your left is another thick cluster of candles, their flickering light casting long, sinister shadows along the far wall, illuminating with terrible dreamlike gleaming the cold iron bars of a tall, ornate cage.

You freeze, clutching for Moreau to steady yourself. Not again. Panic throws itself into the churning tumult of emotions already threatening to overflow within you. It’s in a much better state than anything you saw in the cellars of the castle or the remains of Moreau’s laboratory, but it still chills like the wind outside—a solitary cell, locked in stone.

Your fear is infectious; Moreau grabs at your sleeve, babbling frightened little sounds. “What? What is it?”

“Can you see that?” you ask, pointing a trembling hand.

Moreau looks between you and the cage. What you can see of his expression shifts slowly from fear to confusion to the tepid beginnings of understanding.

“The elevator?” he asks.

"The what?" you reply.

He peers up at you, the candlelight throwing strange shadows across his face. “What do you, see?”

“Another cage,” you tell him.

His fingers curl in your sleeve. "Do you, know what an elevator is?"

"I don't know what that means," you tell him helplessly. You feel like a cornered animal, too afraid to run.

“D-don’t—please, don’t be scared, it’s not—” A gurgle in his throat, the sort of distress that brings on sick. “It’s, like the bridge.”

“Like the bridge?” you echo dumbly.

Moreau nods enthusiastically. “It’s another way to move, a machine that goes up and down, instead of forward. Do, do you understand?”

“Not really,” you admit. You finally let your eyes fall away from the elevator, to where Moreau’s hands are kneading anxiously at your arm. “Is it safe?”

“Yes, y-yes. Perfectly safe.”

“And we’re supposed to…go in?”

“Yes, please, will you—? I’ll, show you.” Moreau pulls at your arm, leading you forward. You do your best to follow with feet that still feel like lead.

Set into the wall by the barred face of the elevator is another small plaque with a strange circle set into it like a gem. It glows with a dim, steady light, a full harvester’s moon. At Moreau’s urging you set the tips of two fingers against the cool, smooth surface, flinching back briefly when you feel it start to give under your touch.

“I’m breaking it,” you tell Moreau worriedly.

“It’s s-supposed to do that,” he assures you.

You trust Moreau, of course, and you don’t know enough about any of this to doubt that what he’s telling you is true. So you try again. The circle recedes a little ways into the wall before stopping with a chunky clicking sound, and you yelp in surprise as the cage rumbles and thunks and slides open.

“A-after you.”

You don’t cling to make sure that he follows you in, but he keeps a hand close enough the whole time that you can feel the ghost of it through your clothes. There’s just enough room inside to permit the two of you to stand side by side, the rock giving way to walls of hand-lined brick. A piercing sound, the scream of metal on rusted metal, and the bars behind you heave condemningly shut. Your breath becomes something solid, lodging in your throat, and you swallow hard around it.

“H-here.” Moreau gestures to another pair of glowing circles on the wall, each inscribed with a small black triangle. “This one.”

You press the circle on the top, and the whole elevator trembles and, with a high whining creak, begins to move.

“Ohh, no no, what’s happening?” You grab for Moreau as if there was a way to hide behind him.

“It’s, like a staircase,” explains Moreau. “There’s a floor below, a-and a floor above. It would be, hard to go up the mountain the long way. This way is easier.”

A tunnel through the mountain; that much you can understand, and you’ve lived in the mines long enough for the concept to feel almost comforting. And the elevator is—well, it isn’t not a cage, really, but it’s a cage that opens and closes on command, which does take a good portion of the bite out of it. Something above you continues to whirr, some collection of gears and pulleys beyond sight and comprehension, and the elevator continues on its journey uninterrupted by your concern.

“Are there elevators like this in the mines?” you ask, curiosity rising.

“There are lifts, in places,” says Moreau. “Not fancy, like this. I can sh-show you, when we get back, if you’d like that?”

“I think I would,” you tell him.

“Not all of them work,” he warns you. “It probably won’t be, very exciting.”

“That’s alright. I’ve done simple machinery repairs before, if they’re not very complicated maybe I could figure out how to fix the ones that are broken.”

Despite your rising interest, you do still jump a little when the elevator finishes its rise and comes to a shuddering stop. The cage screaks open behind you, more dark stone and candlelight beyond. Moreau ushers you ahead, and you step out, apprehension muddling back into your lightened mood. Leading onwards is another low, narrow passage, but light is visible at the end of it, and the wind pulls in a curl of snow that reaches nearly to your feet. You have to hold your dish with both hands to keep your elbows from jostling against the walls.

Then there’s sunlight, cold and clear, and the rising hush of water, and the world drops away before you as the mountain’s face sheers down into a river basin, white with foam and fed by the frothing column of a colossal waterfall. Awe strikes you like lightning. This is the highest up you’ve ever been, and it’s beautiful.

“It’s like something out of a fairytale,” you say softly.

Framed against the bright white of the falls are the sharp, dark lines of a looming manor house, gable roofs and huge staring windows, penumbral and secretive in its place between the water and the woods.

Moreau tugs at his cowl. “We should, keep going.”

You nod, hugging the mountainside as you follow the path along to yet another gate. Thankfully, this one already hangs slightly ajar, and you shoulder your way through without complication. Moreau leans heavily on your arm for support this last leg of the journey, especially as you ascend the worn steps to the porch. All else aside, you’re grateful that your arrival means he’ll have a chance to sit and rest for a while.

“Should we knock?”

Moreau, catching his breath, makes a sort of go ahead gesture with one hand. You raise a fist, but before you can make contact the door cracks open, no wider than a hand’s breadth, and a familiar voice chirps, “Oh, it’s you.”

You stoop to greet Angie, that same wonder that you’d felt seeing her in the Cathedral filling you again now. “Sorry if we’re late.”

“Eh,” says the doll dismissively, rolling her beady eyes before spinning abruptly away. Her little voice is shrill, echoing in the unseen space as she announces loudly, “We have company!”

Well, it’s now or never, you suppose. You offer Moreau your arm and step inside.