#but three different ladies invited me to their church’s

[dr-lizortecho]

me: wow, I might be semi-interested in pursuing something romantic for the first time in four years. Like it’s something I might actually consider cause I’m feeling a particular kind of lonely, and could feasibly have the time and energy to dedicate to another being

God: … yeah. no.

[asinglesock]

autumn comes when you're not yet done with the summer passing by :( :( :(

[elliemarchetti]

Habit Rouge

If I recall well, this is my first Halloween themed fic. Not that spooky, I know, but I suppose some of you might enjoy.

Plot: Nesta finds the perfect dress for a last-minute party with her best friend.

Words: 2325

Next

Gwyn's invitation had come unexpectedly, just a couple of days earlier.

Would you like to come to a Halloween party with me?

A simple message, straight to the point, exactly like the young witch she took under her wing some decades ago. It had been years since Nesta had real friends. She had a few lovers, a couple acquaintances with whom she liked to spend her time, but after Claire’s death she’d preferred to keep her distance, scared she would suffer again because of the mortality that wasn’t granted to her. Not that she’d expected the enormous powers she’d acquired since being initiated into the path of sorcery to come without offering anything in return.

She was born in 1837, in a now forgotten village that would currently have been in Poland. Her mother was a stern woman, and her absent father a wealthy merchant, who barely remembered he had three daughters at home. When his wife died of influenza, together with his mother-in-law, the girls were left in the lurch, but what really took a toll was the loss of their fortune. Gambling, drinking and a nasty spending habit nearly threw them on the streets, and since Nesta was the oldest, she felt the need to do something.

The woman in the woods, a middle-aged lady who lived in a stone hut surrounded by trees and shrubs of all sorts, had seemed a solution as good as any other. It mattered little that many feared her, and that her name sounded like it came from times now forgotten. Nesta had knocked on her door when the moon shone bright in the sky, and had returned home the next morning as something different, no longer just a desperate girl, but the pupil of one of the most powerful witches in Europe.

It hadn’t taken long for the student to outdo the teacher, and so Nesta had taken her place, initiated her sisters, and begun to age so slowly that staying in the village, even though the hunt for her kind was long over, became dangerous. She’d said the only goodbye worth saying on a dreary winter evening, Claire wrapped in a heavy shawl, her now grey hair tied in a bun at the base of her neck. She received a letter the following year from her daughter.

Mom passed away peacefully, please don't come back.

Few words, but they made her understand how little she was welcome in the place she once called home. Within a couple of minutes, the paper had become a pile of crunching ash in the fireplace, all evidence of hatred destroyed before her sisters could see it. For nearly fifty years it had been only the three of them, but over time they’d understood that a bond as strong as theirs didn’t require constant closeness, so each had taken their own path. The first to leave was Elain, although, to be fair, it was Nesta and Feyre who left her behind. Their warnings had been of no avail: she had chosen to marry a human, and it mattered little if after about ten years, fifteen at most, she would be forced to leave him, she loved the guy and wanted to be his dutiful wife. They were in Provence at the time, and the wedding had been so lovely that Nesta had almost managed to ignore the burning sensation she felt at being in a church. Feyre had been the second to meet who she thought was the love of her life, the head sorcerer of a French coven located on the northern border with Spain. Nesta let her go reluctantly, but the liaison didn’t last long, and in 1940, shortly before the outbreak of the war, they all fled to America.

New York had been Feyre’s favourite place. Despite the dark period, it was teeming with art, with new and experimental painting techniques the youngest of them couldn’t wait to try. Elain was the one who had struggled the most the adapt, so Nesta was left to act as a bridge between them, even though what she would’ve most wanted was to go somewhere warm and read the novels of her era, those she’d set aside in favour of grimoires and religious dissertations. She’d never worried much about what would be of her soul, but she feared for those of her sisters, so she’d tried to understand if Catholicism and the Bible were really to be taken so literally. After the end of the war, she told herself that if a God existed, he couldn’t be so benevolent.

From the 50s onwards, change had been so rapid that Nesta had struggled to keep up with it. Technology and globalization made slow life and superstitions die, but at least they allowed her to move freely from place to place without too many questions being asked.

She had already resided in half the states of America when she met Eris Vanserra, and for a brief moment, she thought Massachusetts was a place where she could grow roots and finally rest. She was in Boston, doing some research on the actual existence of the Túatha Dé Danann, to whom Feyre's new boyfriend seemed to be related, when she decided to take an evening walk in the Public Garden. Somehow, the place exuded magic, so she wasn’t surprised when a vampire tried to seduce her, probably in an attempt to drink her blood and then throw her body into the Atlantic. Being a witch, Nesta hadn’t fallen prey of his spell and he’d begun to court her with flowers, jewels, and hard-to-find editions of her favourite books. When she finally gave in, long games of chess and slow dances in the moonlight became the norm, until he told her le loved her. It was 1968, just after the preview of Promises, Promises at the Colonial Theatre. Truth be told, he said he loved her laugh, but something had shone in his eyes, so Nesta run away the next morning, leaving behind most of her things and a short apology note. Feyre had hosted her in New York for a while, and there she’d met Cassian, a werewolf who’d made her forget the way her heart fluttered when she was in Eris’s arms, at least for a dozen years. Upon hearing the news of their reunion, Elain also returned to New York, but after a brief fling with a friend of Rhysand and Cassian, she left again to join a traveling circus as a seer. Nesta had attended one of their shows, but one of the acrobats had reminded her too much of her immortal lover to bear the entire performance.

She met Gwyn on that occasion, the skinny girl struggling in a vain attempt to escape the grasp of a guy twice her size. He’d dragged her in the darkness behind the colourful circus tent, convinced that his wickedness would go unpunished if he’d chosen a novice as his victim. Nesta had made him change his mind, and Gwyneth Berdara had abandoned her pious life to learn how to defend herself with the most unorthodox means she could find. Her powers had proved less destructive than Nesta’s, more based on life than death, but for the duration of the 80’s they’d formed a duo worthy of a couple of newspaper articles. They’d told themselves they’d made the world a better place, for what little they could, and it was on the day they met Emerie they received the long-awaited confirmation. She was a werewolf, young enough she managed to survive alone after she left her pack to look for the witches who killed her father. Nesta never thought she would receive gratitude for the murder of a relative, and although she was relieved, from that moment on they’d dedicated themselves to helping the victims rather than prosecuting the perpetrators.

The Valkyries, the association they’d opened with proceeds obtained in a not entirely legal way, helped women who no longer wanted to hide what the violence of patriarchy had done to them to find a voice and a support system. Emerie had found her calling in running it, and although she once used to transform often to stay young, she no longer did so. Last time she saw her, her once perfect skin had begun to shrivel and her joints started to ache as well as her back. Nesta, who had faced that kind of suffering before, had stuck around to help however she could, but Gwyn, who had only endured the consequences of mortality when she was mortal herself, had walked away, choosing to travel for a while further north. She hadn’t notified anyone of her return, nor did Nesta knew how to take her invitation. Had she continued to practice magic like her or had she aged like Elain did in Provence? Would they still look almost the same age, or would Nesta have to hide her face with a mask?

I don’t know if I have anything suitable to wear, she replied, casting a wary glance at her immense wardrobe. Thirty years of fashion and memories, plus some memorabilia she wouldn’t have worn to a costume party even if someone threatened to torture her, were all she had left.

No problem, Gwyn had replied, so quickly that Nesta wondered if she hadn't been glued to the phone the whole time, waiting for her attentions, we can always go shopping!

So Nesta found herself in a thrift store more similar to an antique shop, surrounded by old oil lamps and countless replicas of the most disparate items.

“Were you alive when they used these things?” asked Gwyn, who hadn’t changed a bit, waving some obsolete electric hair rollers under her nose. A smile spread across Nesta’s face, and although she was very amused that her friend didn’t seem to have the slightest idea of how different things were when she was born, she simply nodded. In all honesty, she had never styled her hair much, preferring the thick braids of the Polish tradition to frizzy bangs and ringlets, but Elain loved them and was the first to try a perm when it boomed.

It was one of the things she liked most about her sisters, how each of them had their own personality, well-defined interest, and unmistakable sense of style, yet they still supported each other no matter what. If someone spending so much time together could lead outsiders to not understand where one person began and the other ended, the differences between them were so clear there was no doubt even whether a dress belong to one of the other. Maybe that was why Nesta recognized the gown as soon as she saw it, because nobody else would’ve liked it as much as she did. The velvet was a little dusty, and the golden chain on the back had been removed, but the design, the draped bodice, and the flowy gown, were still the same. It was one of the few lavish things she’d managed to bring with her from Europe, a piece that earned her many compliments in the twenties for how it accentuated her straight shoulders and slim figure.

“I think it will suit you,” Gwyn said, once she reached her at the end of the aisle. “Maybe it needs a bit of readjustments, but you’d make a great entrance.”

Nesta knew for a fact that the dress would fit her perfectly, but since she wasn’t ready to share its story, she didn’t contradict her and asked the owner how much he charged for it.

“When I got it they told me it was a one-of-a-kind piece, but from that day on no one gave it a second glance,” the old man admitted, and although Nesta was sure he was right, after all it was custom made, she still gave him less than a hundred dollars. Being a witch undoubtedly had its benefits, but she wasn’t able to make money appear from thin air, and as long as she didn’t turn to theft, or decided to abandon the Valkyries to find a real job, she couldn’t splurge.

“You should add a pair of fake canines,” joked Gwyn on their way home, but Nesta had put the idea aside, determined to relive one of the balls Eris used to bring her to.

A quick glance at the fabric neatly folded inside the unassuming paper bag made her relive a sea of moments she had relegated in the depths of her mind. Feyre’s laughter as she dragged her to on the French dance floors, the chatter with Elain as they ran arm in arm through the narrow streets of Paris, and Eris’s long, thin fingers, caressing her bare skin in the privacy of their apartment.

“You still haven’t told me why you care so much about this party,” she teased, if only to chase away the melancholy. It was normal to stumble when you’ve lived so long, yet Nesta was determined to compartmentalize and not let the mistakes of the past ruin her present. Boston was an error, she knew it now and probably already knew back then, but life went on, and judging by where she’d found one of the dresses she’d left there after her hasty departure, Eris did it too.

“I made a few friends on my road trip,” Gwyn replied, vague enough to spark her curiosity. “I would go alone, really, but I thought that after all this time among humans, a celebration open only to supernatural beings might be stimulating for you too.” “You had a wonderful idea,” Nesta lied, forcing a smile as she took her friend’s arm. Under no circumstances she intended to disappoint the lively redhead, but between witches, vampires, and werewolves there must’ve been at most a hundred of them in the entire United States, and if her sixth sense wasn’t deceiving her, she would soon see many faces she would rather forget.

[angeltreasure]

What happened during My Surrender Novena…!

Where to begin?

I received an email from one of the nuns (at the Monastery I have been accepted to) and they said Reverend Mother would want to know if I would like to do a one-day visit where I would actually be in the cloister with the nuns!— The nun said to fill out my pre-screening paperwork and to ask my pastor or spiritual director for a Letter of Recommendation.

My first response was panic because I had tried to reach this own priest my mom likes but he never responded for weeks and the one priest I personally had in mind I debated on because we are different Rites and sometimes there is a loss of translation. I decided it was time to stop putting off the Surrender Novena which God had revealed to me to do. It seemed like perfect timing. I let go of the waves of anxiety and prayed.

Friday August 11. I visited my Maronite Church on a day I normally don’t go. I arrive so early and sit by myself the closest I can to the tabernacle to be as close as I can to Jesus without sitting in the front pew.. I was nervous because I hadn’t been here so long trying to juggle my time at the parish my parents are registered where I would Lector. I probably would be a disappointment but I wanted to come here for God. I was praying to God what I had on my heart. If only I could have been braver and asked this priest first; I was running out of time and was considering to find a third option. I was in dread, but I instantly remembered the novena.

That’s when Father walked in to prepare the altar and he immediately recognized me from behind despite being gone for weeks. We had a tiny Mass: the priest, the lector, me, and someone behind me in the pews.

Afterwards, I gathered up my courage and stood up and I told him I remembered his exact words back on that day he sat down to speak with me. He was the first priest I had ever told about my discernment because I felt seen by him unlike any other priest I had. “If I want to go out and serve or go into the Monastery like St. Sharbel” and I told him I have chosen the Monastery and they have accepted me officially, in three or four years time once all my debt is gone. “Why do you wait?” He asked. Then, as if the Holy Spirit was promoting him, he immediately asked the very question I was praying he would ask about why I have to wait, concerning my debt. I told him the details and he, in fact, completely understood without any loss of translation. As he turned to continue preparing the altar, I paused for a moment or two and decided to ask him if he would be my spiritual director but I knew that priests get very busy so I would understand if he said no and asked if there was anyone he knew that could (also thinking to myself that I had not been very consistent with my Masses). He froze on the spot taken aback but he didn’t even hesitate. “I’ll do it.” When I got outside I get invited by someone to stay after Sunday Divine Liturgy to pray the Rosary and the Divine Mercy Chaplet back to back. I immediately said yes because those are my two favorite prayers besides Mass.

Saturday August 12: Perpetual Eucharist Adoration takes place at this nice church my mom found. I needed to go see Jesus. I arrived perhaps ten minutes of three. I had never seen a little chapel so full of people! I was in awe. A couple minutes before the hour, suddenly, a lady in the middle of the room stood up and handed out papers to everyone. She said hope no one minds, they would be starting a new tradition of saying the Divine Mercy Chaplet out loud during Adoration! (My favorite Chaplet). I smiled so big. I was surprised I had never had anyone get up during Adoration so boldly. Our prayers filled the little chapel as I kept my eyes on Him. It felt like a slice of Heaven. I invite my mom to Divine Liturgy for the next day after seeing a Facebook update for the special Mass, procession around the church, and stay for a home cooked Lebanese brunch.

Sunday August 13. Day 1: I go to my Maronite Church for Sunday Divine Liturgy with my mom. It’s special there because on Sunday that’s when they celebrate the Solemnity of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary! Mass is nice. The free homemade Lebanese brunch was such a success! It was going to be nice to finally have my own family member in the hall with the Lebanese families but all the seats were taken. At first I was really sad for once again being left out but I had to be like Mary and ponder these things in my heart. We ate in my car while it was over 90 outside.

When I finished my plate I went to go find Father to ask if he would write my letter of recommendation. I lost him for a while until I saw a group of ladies go into the church. I quietly followed and saw it was the guild up on the altar around a statue of Mary with many flowers. I waited for photos to be done and didn’t want to interrupt especially since it wasn’t conversations in English. Father almost walked out with them so I caught him the very last minute and handed him the email I printed out. I apologized if I was interrupting but I wanted to know if he would consider writing my letter of recommendation. I would have had anxiety again but I remembered my novena. He froze again and thought for a moment. “I’ll do it.” He left with the guild women to return to the hall.

I went to go turn to leave and someone wanted to introduce themselves to me. Turns out, it was the president of that women’s guild and she said all of them would love for me to join! I think my jaw dropped haha! I said yes I would like to and apologized since I only know English. She we know you only speak English. I felt that sword stab my heart, I didn’t know how many knew this evens though it’s obvious. Once they left I stayed with the little group to pray the Rosary followed immediately by a prayer Divine Mercy Chaplet. When the group stood up to say goodbyes I met the leader’s wife and a friend.

I drive home with my mom. We watch a EWTN movie of St. Sharbel.

Day 2: The weekend is over, so back to work it is. I wait patiently with my Novena. Just as I arrive to work, I get an email from Father saying my Letter of Recommendation is ready and I could go the next day at 7 pm Mass to get it.

Tuesday August 15. Day 3: Now it’s my Holy Day of Obligation as a Latin Rite Catholic. Mom and I attend a very early Mass at our parish. I decide to take the day off of work so I can get my Letter but also devote the whole day to Mary. After my mom left for work I lit a candle a sang Marian hymns, do my Liturgy of the Hours, put together a gift for one of the nuns for her anniversary to religious life.

Once time gets closer I fly to the Maronite Church to get there earlier than I normally would. I didn’t want to miss out. I waited patiently in the pew, and was surprised to see some people my age behind me. Father talked to them first because they were closer in pews towards him.

Father came up to me to floret me and immediately turned to the whole crowd and announced I was to be a nun soon and he wants me to teach his children. I was floored because I didn’t expect him to announce it so happily to people I didn’t even know! And to be a teacher ontop of all the stuff happening——

He went to go get my letter and said to read over his letter and see if I liked it and if so he would sign it and let me mail it. I was shaking holding the letter in my hand it almost felt like something I shouldn’t be reading but I had to and felt curious as to what he would say… He said along the lines I was in good standing and recognizes my good character and called himself my pastor. I was accepted! I wasn’t turned away. I had all I could do not to cry on the spot. He signed it and then proceeded to do a combo Baptism, First Holy Communion, Confession (not in the same room obviously), AND Confirmation for this beautiful girl near my age! I didn’t know her but I prayed for her, she was so happy! Mass happened and we went to leave. All of them I watched for the Sacraments introduced themselves to me and I made new friends. I drove gone and showed my mom the letter.

Day 4: The nuns received my pre-application online. I sent my letter.

Day 5: We do so good at work we get free pizza and extra time for break.

Day 6: A deacon comes to give our new house its first official home blessing. My mom and I each light a candle and actively participate in the ritual saying so many Hail Mary’s I could hardly breath between them all.

Day 7: I rest but pray. I show my mom a movie of Rhoda Wise the Catholic Mystic. We fall in love with the movie! My mom’s Rosary breaks. I found a new video of a monk making a Rosary. After weeks of placing my Rosary making on hold from having trouble with knots, I decide to try it again. The very first practice knot I make comes out better than any knot I have ever done. I complete my mom’s Christmas present Rosary and made it prettier than before. That same night, I go on to make my first two Rosaries to give to the homeless.

Day 8: I go to the Maronite Catholic Church for Divine Liturgy. I wanted to complete my altar so I got a new candle, a statue to be blessed. Father blessed them. I put them in my Jeep and sat down in the shrine to pray for a long time. It’s such a long time that passes that I don’t realize how long that Father and I are the only ones left. He comes to quietly clean the shrine. I went to get up to leave not wanting to linger and disturb him by overstaying, respectfully, even though the shrine is open 24/7 haha.

Sensing I was about to leave, he asked me out of the blue if I could help out when he goes to help drive someone somewhere. I asked how I can help. He said he would have me run the gift shop and answer the telephone calls, that he would make me a copy of keys to the gift shop AND the church, work on some side projects. I wondered why me and not someone of his own Rite. I said yes. He said he was really depending on me. Me, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Me, I am nothing special, I am nothing. But I had to remember my novena. I said yes I would do it.

Day 9: I receive I copy of keys to the gift shop and church after brief training. Not only is Father gone until next week but also the assistant. I immediately take his church into my car. The calls and visitors flood in from all around. Each one says what I am doing is such a blessing and they spill their hearts out to me like family, even like some of you anons here on my blog. As I wait for calls or customers, the Rectory is quiet as a mouse besides the occasional meow of Father’s kitten. As I gaze at the painting of the Sacred Heart of Jesus on the wall, I see from where I am sitting His gaze is directly looking down upon me. I had finish the Novena keeping my gaze on Jesus.

“O Jesus, I surrender myself to You, take care of everything!”

[letlovelightlife]

“What was she like? I’ve waited my entire life to be asked that question. God. 
What was she like?

She was beautiful. She tasted like the ocean and smelled like clementines. She wore peach lipstick and brown mascara. On

Sundays she would fill the bathtub with roses and milk. When 
it was spring and the air felt raw against your skin, she would

wake herself up at three in the morning and smoke cigarettes 
in the balcony. When I gave her roses on some date she gave

them to a homeless man on the way to the restaurant. She wore 
dirty sneakers with the words “peace” written in red sharpie and

a white dress that hugged her wide hips to my mothers 58th
birthday party. The one where ladies asked what she was

studying and she replied Art History. She was in Pre-Med at 
the top university in New York City. She said things like “we don’t

open the mail on Tuesdays” and “let’s tell the barista you’ve just found out you’re cured from cancer”. When her mother would call

begging her to come to church she would send her poems about
how birds on the telephone line are her religion. She only liked

walking around the city if it rained. What was she like? She went to train stations because she thought the homeless man playing the

violin was the best concert she’d ever find. I often asked her what 
she thought of me. Her laugh was like honey. When I took her to my

gallery opening she invited her taxi driver. She had the moon 
tattooed on her inner thigh. She spelled the words “infinity” onto

the crook of my neck. I remember once she took a photograph 
of an elderly man speaking to his wife at her gravestone.

She called me on the way home: “Well what were you doing at the cemetery?” I asked. “Robert,” She’d said, “Don’t ask such absurd

questions.” What was she like? I woke up alone some mornings. 
Her suitcase would be scattered and she screamed because she

couldn’t pay the gas bill. Our lights would turn off. What was she
like? She’d light candles in every single corner of the house. She

would read these big books written by Russian authors who didn’t know the difference between love and lust. “Oh,” She once said,

"And you do?" I laughed. I was so in love with her. The curves of her hip. The smooth tint of her back. Her eyebrows. Her smile. How her

eyes were green sea’s I saw in travel brochures. What was she like? She was the type of person to write you love poetry and bake pies

and convince you that 4:50 AM was the best time of day. What is 
she like? And this is the part where my throat will burn and I’ll

scratch my collar bones because how much it hurts, 
“Why don’t you ask him” I’ll say. Why don’t you ask

him”

I’m sorry it had to end like this (via 33113) l

[faroreswinds]

Golden Wildfire - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10

And now... more notes.... *sobs about these chapters*

Story

Lysithea is concerned about the future of their new federation. She says the structure between the Federation and the Kingdom is different, but she’s not actually basing it off of anything.

Lorenz says the Five Great Lords still have voices for the King to hear, so if Claude does something he doesn’t like... he will use that voice to say who is truly worthy to rule? Uh.... bad news, Lorenz... 

Minor nobles are more upset with the changes, it seems. 

One NPC notes that they should ally with the Kingdom, and it would be a good chance to improve relations with them. 

While the minor lords never had a vote before per say, they could still submit complaints in and be aware of roundtable discussions. Now, they can’t anymore. 

Lorenz thinks there is unrest due to imperial troops instead. 

Petra wants to return to Brigid. 

Interesting, so the Eastern bishop coronated Claude. Claude was kinda against it but eventually was convinced. The bishop said it wasn’t truly necessary to become king without the goddess’ blessing, but simply that the world wasn’t quite ready for it yet. 

I’ve noticed that there are far less recruiting here in GW. By this point, SB has given you a lot of new characters - two in chapter 4, three in chapter 6 or so, etc. But GW has drip-fed me a recruit, one a chapter or none at all per chapter. 

Wait, Claude is going to meet with Edelgard now? 

Oh... oh no.... It’s happening, isn’t it?

“I only response to a invitation by an alliance lord, the attack wasn’t unprovoked”. Jesus, Edelgard.

 I guess gunning for the Alliance’s capital was ALSO invited, HM?!

That is not an apology (even Claude calls her out on it a bit).

Edelgard sent a letter, and now the Central Church must be eliminated. 

The character models literally popping into existence in this scene is hilarious. 

So, because they are offering stability on the border, Claude is just... ok with helping taking out the Central Church?! Literally, the Central Church has done nothing until this point. They finally only did something in this chapter, which is appear in territories that want to leave the Federation and that’s it. 

At least there was a better build up to this alliance than whatever SB had to fucking offer. Sort of. 

Edelgard literally ignored Shez, kek. 

And Shez is right. “Wait, the Kingdom and the Church are suddenly our enemies now? and everyone is just on board with this?” apparently, maybe yes, Shez. 

Holy fuck, literally the first battle for the side missions is chase down the Knights of Seiros. 

Literally wtf Claude? 

“This is not a repudiation of the teaching of Seiros, just to dissolve the Central Church.” THAT’S NOT HOW IT WORKS. 

HOLY FUCK. WHAT JUST HAPPENED?! 

WHAT HAPPENED?! 

WHAT?!

WHAT IS GOING ON?!

ALL OF THIS CAME FROM NOWHERE, WHERE DO I START?! 

“That would mean killing Lady Rhea” EXCEPT IN SB APPARENTLY, EDELGARD WAS INTENT ON JUST CAPTURING HER, WHY DID WE JUMP RIGHT TO KILLING HER HERE?!

“Those two [Rhea and Seteth] aren’t what they seem to be, if what the Empire says is true, that’s it” YEAH, BUT YOU ARE READY TO GO AFTER THEM NOW?!

Ok, I have so many thoughts that I had to put them in a separate post. Please.. check this post out for them here.

That NPC who wanted to join with the Kingdom is worried about trusting the Empire, and is surprised this is happening.

Linhardt also has new words to say. He doesn’t care about the Empire anymore but is glad for the ceasefire because it means he might... get to rest more since they won’t need his Empire knowledge anymore. Y-yay?

In one of the side battles, we have to fight Viscount Albany, one of the Alliance lords trying to defeat. Another side battle as a different Federation lord looking to defect as well. 

Another interesting side map where a rescued commoner becomes an ally and becomes a wyvern lord.

Ah, is this when Randolph dies? The man designed to die at all times?

Looks like the Imperial army is struggling against the Knights of Seiros. Which didn’t happen in SB. 

Claude’s got another scheme that he’s not telling us. 

Ah, we recruit Hapi and Constance in this chapter. 

There is a strategy called “Fleetfoot” here, which is literally magical shoes you can get that can make you run faster. 

Even the Knights are like “What, who is attacking us?!” 

Claude says to not letting of them escape. He was more worried about imperial troops in part 1 and their lives than he is the Knights here in part 2.

Randolph is dead. Bye

Hapi has a cute nickname for Catherine. Cathy!

Huh, unlike in SB, Constance and Hapi seem more ok helping the Church. In SB, they were like “urg, why are they making us?”

And... we killed Catherine. Poor thing.

AND WE LOOT HER CORSE FOR HER SWORD

None of the church’s soldiers survived the fucking battle.

The Imperial forces were wiped out, while the Federation forces were barely hit. 

Claude feels bad because while all the enemies (as he calls them) being wiped out is the ideal outcome, it still leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

“These hands will never be clean again.” YOU DAMN RIGHT BOY.

It’s amazing. I actually feel MORE like a bad guy in this route than fucking Edelgard’s route, and they said things like “THE ENEMY CHOSE DEATH BY NOT BENDING THEIR KNEE TO OUR WILL”

At least Shez is chewing him out. Even Judith is chewing him out. That he’s not inspiring loyalty with his actions. 

Even Lorenz during battle was like “wtf?”

“I’m going to follow the path I believe in” Ok , pop off, king. 

I just realized something. This was meant to be a chapter putting down Alliance nobles that are trying to defeat. Well, they got defeated in those side battles.... and the route mission ended up being killing all those Knights of Seiros. 

Guess Claude allowed for Constance since she wasn’t a knight of seiros. 

Chapter 10

Fleche also exists just to be crazy and have be full of tiny revenge. 

Claude’s actions are about to have consequences. 

This “Imperial general” is 100% a Slither though. 

Fleche has a thing about wanting to kill kings. 

Whoa, Byleth again. We’ve.... we’ve barely seen him this time around. Guess this is the recruitment chapter for him. 

And now, no one has anything to say about Claude’s actions.

And also, no one in the Federation fucking cares that the fucking Church has been declared war. And I thought the Central Church was in control? 

“We are going to wipe the Church of the map and defeat the kingdom, but in a way that kills as little as possible” Yeah, good luck with that. 

Another map with a single battle? Damn. More than SB already. 

Claude thanks me for Shez and Judith giving it to him so he doesn’t get wrapped up in his own ideas. Sigh....

The Eastern Church has no soldiers because the territory that keeps them prevents them from every having them. HMMM?

Even Arval is like “since ancient times, people have thought it was wise to band under a single king and try to unify their viewpoints. He wonders when that will end. 

Linhardt has a point - “the end result is the same anyway, even if I voice my concerns with the king”. 

Literally people are more concerned with the fact Claude didn’t tell them than what he actually did. 

Hapi and Constance have concluded they only got to live because they weren’t truly Knights of Seiros or Imperial Forces. 

So Claude just showed up one day with a letter from his mother. And since she was friends with Judith, that’s why Judith has been supporting him since then. 

Commoners got to be part of the roundtable but like... Ignatz, you are friends with the king. It’s not exactly the biggest change of all time. 

Petra thinks Claude did a good thing and praises his actions instead as a “good hunter”. 

Well, time it invade... the Kingdom....

No wait, Fleche is coming for her revenge. 

Phew. 

And I betcha she hired Byleth and Jeralt too. 

Wait, we persuade Yuri this chapter too?

And we are protecting Claude this chapter, kinda like how we protected Edelgard in chapter 9 in SB

Myson appears here. Those Slithers... and that’s it, he retreats

This game REALLY wants me to care about Fleche and Randolph. :/ 

Path A - Recruiting Byleth

It was really easy recruiting Byleth this time. Except Claude didn’t sometimes MOVE so I had to repeat the battle once as a result. 

This doesn’t feel as impactful as SB. We honestly barely fight Byleth here. 

Oh great, Claude is like “It’s like I have been calling out to you this whole time.” 

Ok, we have not seen Dimitri or the Church members this whole time. 

Whoa, they only suspect the Federation had a hand in Catherine’s death. Interesting. 

Seteth is shocked that the Empire allowed the Eastern Church to rise, rather than the Federation bend a knee to the Southern Church. 

Did we just skip the part where the sea route was suggested?

Ah, here is Nader. 

Nader fucking manipulated the King of Almyra to sign a piece of paper he didn’t know he was signing. 

HOLY FUCK, CLAUDE REALLY INSTIGATED A SRENG ATTACK.

CLAUDE

CLAUDE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!

And now we are after the Kingdom, JUST GREAT. 

Path B - Killing Jeralt

Ok, so, the difference between recruiting Byleth or not doesn’t make as much sense as it does in SB. Jeralt just decides to continue his job despite Fleche dying. But in the other way, he just decides to stop. It’s a little contrived.

Judith’s death is a little harder to swallow than Randolph’s kek. Poor Judith. You really feel it, it feels more personal this time. 

Finally, now HERE is a real consequence to Claude’s actions. 

Although Byleth was only doing his job here, it’s also just not a random battle. This was a group out for revenge. 

Both better and worse than SB in different ways. Siiiigggghhhhh

Now THIS feels like a lesson learned about letting Randolph die. 

Finally, some nuance here about Crests a bit. Lysithea points out that not everyone who has a Crest is a noble. At this GW has a leg up on that front compared to SB. 

“These aren’t just mercs selling themselves for gold” No, but they are about to be an invading force instead. 

Aaaannnnd the mood is like Judith never died in the first place in the next scene. Sort of, some minor dialogue changes.

Paralogue

One paralogue pops up in chapter 9 - Lorenz, Ignatz, and Raphael. I already did it in my SB run, so I won’t discuss it again here. 

Chapter 10 also sees one more paralogue - Hilda and Marianne’s. 

There have been very few paralogues so far, especially unique ones. 

So Hilda was scouting a kingdom camp and got seen.

Ingrid appears as the final boss of this map too.... :( 

That’s really all I got out of this paralogue, lol 

Supports

Some supports open up here. 

Claude and Shez B - Claude tells Shez that it his idea that they should get rid of the roundtable. 

“Alliance” “Federation” “They are the same thing. Just named something different as to get rid of the old system” That means it’s not the same thing, Claude. 

And nooooow we are back to Shez’s adoptive mom. Boring. But... why was Shez booted from the village after his mom died? That’s weird. 

Hilda and Claude A support - Hilda feels like the new system is actually more of a hassle than the roundtable ever was. “We need a fierce leader” Claude, calling  yourself a fierce leader ,huh?

Hilda asking him if this is really wanted. And she finds the fact there is a king uncomfortable, especially since it was a friend of hers. 

Claude and Marianne A - Lots of older house leaders are passing their titles to their heirs, likely because they don’t... like these changes to the Alliance. And I guess Claude’s worries are mostly gone now, since he has “resolve”. Ok...

Hilda and Shez A support - Nothing worth noting

Shez and Holst A support - Nothing to note, really. 

Hilda and Holst A support - It’s cute. Hilda being the guest of honor instead. Hilda killed an enemy commander and changed the tide of the battle. I liked this one. 

Hilda and Linhardt A support - Um... it’s a support, all right. It exists. 

Ignatz and Raphael A support - A nice support. That’s all there is to say. 

Claude and Lorenz A support - Lay it in him, Lorenz. Although, Lorenz would rather be... king. 

A “non-hereditary monarch” Ooohhhh, “democracy”. Sure, sure... Ok. I mean, I have a lot to SAY about how that may fall apart without a proper set up, but ok, pop off kings. 

“The goddess’s grace didn’t support the creation of the Federation” but I’m pretty sure it did? Also, LITERALLY in this chapter there is a priest who said that Claude’s coronation DIDN’T need the blessing of the goddess.

Hilda and Lysithea A support - “Only Crests matter” and yet, Holst literally has no Crest. And was made head of his house and not Hilda....

Balthus and Hilda A support - “My brother can’t stand anything that isn’t just” and yet he’s more on board with invading the Kingdom for the Church! (Also, jesus, Holst and Balthus are SO MUCH taller than Hilda) 

Some support open up in chapter 10

Holst and Claude’s A support - Holst is Claude’s biggest supporter, even ok with overthrowing the Kingdom. 

Urg, this is all about how the Church enforces the system of nobility. Claude wants to knock down all the walls. But this support is more about... Hilda’s future.....

Books

Allied Territories of Leicester: Book One (1180 Edition)

Can be checked out freely

Riegan

A duchy. Had fertile lands and meadows. Has capital city Derdriu, which is a gorgeous port dubbed the Aquatic Capital. 

Has no dominate industry. But boasts robust fishing, agriculture, commerce, and manufacturing. 

Only drawback is lack of mineral resources. 

Gloucester

A county second only to Riegan in size in the Alliance. Composed of woodlands and plains, industries make up of its natural resources. Agriculture, like dairy farming, and lumber and hunting flourish. 

Has strong tradition of arts. 

Capital is Edgaria, home to many artists’ workshops. 

Daphnel

A county between the mountains and the vast plains of the Vimur River mouth to the east.

Hotbed of commerce due to bordering the Kingdom and having easy access to Derdriu. 

Has the Valley of Torment, Ailell, within its borders.

Phlegethon

A small viscounty, but home to the Great Bridge of Myrddin that spans the Airmid River, giving an advantage to trade. 

Siward

A small, mountainous viscounty with no notable products.

Albany

A viscounty and a stopover for pilgrims on their way to the monastery. 

Burgundy

A viscounty and the eastern gateway to the monastery. Near the source of the Airmid River, it features a number of natural sites including the Caledonian Plateau. 

Allied Territories of Leicester: Book Two (1180 Edition)

Can be checked out freely

Goneril

A duchy known for its undulating topography, including Foldan’s Throat. Produces rare gemstones there that are popular with nobility

Many warrior groups and mercenaries have banded there due to frequent fights with Almyra. Mercantile trade caters to fighters there as part of the economy. 

Ordelia

A county that spreads out west from the southern tip of Foldan’s Throat. Airmid River forms the region’s southern border. Water source allows for cultivation of various crops, but has been outdone by Gloucester recently. 

Spirit distilling is robust, with Ordelia-made vauda being considered a luxury item. 

Edmund

A margraviate consisting of the northernmost point in Leicester, along with islands to its west. Mainland is bustling and profitable hub of trade and is home to many merchants. 

Territory’s islands are infested with pirates. Sreng lies just across the waters to the north, and Almyran Navy is close as well. So, many dangers. 

Albrecht

A barony that is well-positioned as a hub of finance. 

Muller

A barony. Though narrow, the region is almost entirely covered in woodlands. 

It’s high-quality lumber is exported throughout Leicester. 

Nilsson

A viscounty that protects the Eastern Church to which is attached. 

Kupala

A realm of mountain people. Strictly speaking, it is not an actual member of the Alliance. The region has some relations with its surrounding neighbors, though not to an extensive degree. 

Bundle of Illustrations

Summary of Act I

Liora, an Adrestian village girl, finds herself lost in the deep woods that blanket the foothills of the Oghma Mountains. 

While making her way through the mysterious, foggy woods, she encounters a bizarre and gigantic creature. It has one long horn, and resembles both a wyvern and a pegasus. 

Summary of Act II

Liora flees the giant creature, but once again gets lost in the seemingly magical fog. Eventually a mysterious boy appears from the fog and speaks to her. “My home is just ahead. You can rest there.”

Summary of Act II

Liora begins living in the boy’s house deep in the woods. He is a skilled hunter and a capable blacksmith. Before long, Liora has fallen for him. Little does she know a reunion with the giant creature she had fled awaits her. 

Summary of Act IV

Having learned the truth of these woods, Liora is deeply trouble. The boy sees this...

(Synopsis of a Miffelfrank Opera Company production)

[anders-hawke]

Ring? :3

Vows

He’s not religious, not even a little bit, and quite honestly would prefer not to set foot in churches—or even any religious building unless it was, say, the Hagia Sofia—at all. (Scully, how could I pass up the chance to step foot in the Hagia fucking Sofia? I’m an atheist but I’m not a heathen.) He’s had lapses here and there, usually out of grief for Samantha, and has gone inside churches for cases, occasionally, but since he laid that mystery to rest, he’s kept to his goal quite well. Scully would probably argue that he’s visited her at Our Lady a lot and that the hospital is technically a religious building, but that’s different; you don’t go there to pray or sing hymns or praise Jesus. (Last I checked, you guys were still applying for state grants...)

If God is real, Mulder highly doubts that he has time to listen to anyone. Doesn’t he have a million and one angels and patron saints to do his work for him? But that’s besides the point, which is that no matter the status of God’s existence, he’s there to listen. He’ll be there when menopause hits, he’ll be there when Scully gets invited to Matty’s graduation, he’ll be there the day she quits the FBI quitting (or retiring) right along with her. He’ll fly across the country to place flowers at a little girl’s grave in remembrance and he’ll listen to her restless breathing that night as she can’t help but think about what her life would be like if her daughter wasn’t stripped from her loving arms. He’ll be there to listen to her complain about sunburns and late nights and long drives and getting a rash because he accidentally bought the wrong bubble bath.

The most brilliant idea he ever had was to put a ring on it. Nothing cheesy or sappy, no getting down on one knee. They did it out of order, according to Bill’s muttering one Thanksgiving while he and Tara were on dish duty, but neither Mulder nor Scully gave a damn that she was heavily pregnant with their miracle son when he popped the question. The ring was a promise, a tangible reminder of their love for her to wear long after their son had grown into an adult and flown the nest.

Though, she hasn’t.

A wedding was never in the cards for them—didn’t even cross their minds as a possibility. There’s too many people missing for it to feel like a celebration. No elder sister to be her maid of honor and a shortage of bridesmaids and groomsmen. They joked about it once—Skinner can walk me down the aisle, Tara can be the maid of honor, Bill can be the best man, and Matty can be the ring bearer—but they couldn’t scrounge up enough people to invite to warrant spending that much money or agree on a venue. (Mulder, if I have a wedding, it has to be in a church. It’s not an outrageous request! It doesn’t take a wedding to get married!) Okay, maybe it did cross their minds, but it’s not unfinished business.

Which is fine, ‘cause they were arguing over a hypothetical they knew would never come to fruition just for the sake of friction. The last time he stepped in a church was for that case out in California that got them made into that god-awful movie.

But that’s not to say that they aren’t married—they very much are, a fact Mulder thinks about at least three times a day. He still wears his ring, though he doesn’t like to think about why. Scully wears hers, too, just not on her ring finger; she hardly ever did, instead choosing to slide it onto her cross necklace so that she could keep it on during procedures at work. She still wears it like that. The fact that she kept it after she left gave him hope.

Scully told him years ago that he gave her the courage to believe; in turn, she gave him hope that his years in the basement, giving up the life the people around him took for granted, weren’t for nothing. That’s why he’s followed her inside this church twice in the past year. More important than his faulty relationship with religion is his love for his family. His mother-in-law, his wife, his son...

Mulder fingers the ring laying against her chest, hanging from the chain next to her cross. “We don’t really talk,” he says.

“I thought we had that unspoken communication?” Scully looks up from his hand and their gazes meet.

“Well, maybe I was repressing some stuff back when I said that, Scully. It’s not true.”

She tilts her head to the side. “What do you want to talk about? I’m listening, too.”

He shrugs. “Everything. Anything. Vow renewal.”

“We didn’t have vows, Mulder.”

“You know what I mean. We can write something. Share feelings.”

She looks at him for a minute, trying to figure out his intentions, before sighing. “Why now?”

Mulder shrugs, a small, insuppressible smile capturing his lips. “I love you. I also have a flair for the dramatic. Why not combine the two?”

Scully laughs and shakes her head, taking his hand as she leads him towards the door. “Well, it can’t hurt. Let’s do it.” 

[ahedderick]

   My son and husband are off having a bike race weekend in eastern Pennsylvania, so I was looking forward to some just-us-girls time with my daughter. However, her social schedule got busy somewhat spontaneously, and she was gone most of the day today. Right after she got home and scarfed down dinner she was invited out to another friend’s house to spend the night, so off she went. I don’t mind being alone, I guess I’m just feeling a bit bereft this time because I had things planned to do together. My life is surely going to be a whole LOT different in a couple years when I’m an empty-nester.

   It’s not that I don’t put effort into friendships. I do; I have for all my adult life. (Thirty years. Jeez.)  Right now, though, I have a few [lovely] friends who are twenty+ yrs older than I am, so I will not be able to ‘keep’ them as I age. Of the three ladies who were friends-my-own-age thru my forties, two moved away and one ghosted me.

side note what the everlovin’ Fuck is going on outside, it sounds like there’s a heavy artillery barrage going on northeast of me! There is either an Appalachian War I haven’t heard about or someone just set off a whole LOT of fireworks.

  Well, uh . . ok, loneliness. One way or another I have been alone too much / marginalized / isolated / etc for a big chunk of my life, and it’s hard to come to terms with what that means for my future. I’ve done all the things. Church activites, taking classes (or giving them), exercise/martial arts, active in the arts community, volunteering at school, helping neighbors.

   Looks like, however . . . I will need to get used to being alone.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Get Me to the Church On Time

Enzo St. John x Mikaelson! Reader

Words: 3037

Part 3 of 4 (Part One, Part Two)

Summary: Preparations for the wedding are in full swing and it’s time to go dress shopping. With you out with the girls, Enzo is left to find the perfect suit with none other than your protective older brothers. Needless to say, tensions are high.

Note: Part Three!!! And I’m bringing in the Vampire Diaries crew for the wedding. More Damon/Enzo bromance on the way, along with some girl fun with Caroline and Bonnie. Like the others, this one jumps around a bit some more, but I hope it isn’t too confusing. I’m just bad at writing transitions. (Repost Notes: Ugh, going through these makes me so happy, you guys!

-

The sound of suitcases rolling on the sidewalk made your heart leap. You sat up from your spot on the couch, Enzo stirring slightly next to you. He made a sound of confusion as you smacked his arm. 

“They’re here!” You exclaimed, sprinting outside. The blonde and the brunette were arguing over something but immediately stopped when they saw you. 

“I told you this was the right place!” Caroline squealed, rushing towards you for a hug. Bonnie set her bag down and joined the group hug. 

“I can’t believe this is all happening.” You sighed as the three of you pulled apart. “There’s not even a week left until the wedding and I haven’t even found the dress yet.” Caroline laced her arm through yours and Bonnie’s.

“Why do you think we’re here?” She beamed. They grabbed their bags and you led them into the compound where Freya invited Caroline in and Enzo stiffened uncomfortably. 

“Bonnie… Caroline. How nice to see you.” He put on a tight smile and Bonnie rolled her eyes. He rubbed his hands together, signaling his discomfort. He didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye with your best friends. “Well, I’m sure Y/N can show you to your rooms.” He cast you a pleading look and you smirked. 

“Right this way ladies.” You led them away, the two of them turning back at Enzo and giggling. You couldn’t help but laugh along. “You guys really hate him, don’t you?” You said as soon as the door to their room was closed. 

“We don’t… hate him.” Bonnie clarified. “We just-hmm.” She tried to think of the right word. Caroline kicked her shin. “Ow! What was that for?”

“If you like Enzo, we like Enzo.” Caroline promised. Bonnie nodded in skeptical agreement. “Besides, he’s the reason we get to go dress shopping, on an unlimited budget, in New Orleans.” She took your face in her hands. “You are not allowed to worry about anything. We are here now and we shall tend to everything. Right Bonnie?”

“What are bridesmaids for?” She smiled, her skepticism breaking away. 

“I completely agree.” Rebekah said from the doorway. Her arms were crossed and her face held a dangerously smug look. As the maid of honor she was going to have to interact with the other bridesmaids at some point. With a quick begging glance from you, her smug look spread into a sincere smile. “And in order to do that, I suggest that we set aside our differences for the coming days. From now until the reception ends, we are nothing more than the friends and family to my dear sister Y/N.” The two girls considered this and shrugged. 

“I don’t see why not.” Caroline finally said and motioned for Rebekah to come further into the room, pulling a small planner out of her suitcase. “Today is dress shopping day. While we will be at the boutique at 2:00, the boys will be taking Enzo to get his suit. After that is all taken care of, Enzo and Y/N will get to have one final date night to themselves before becoming a married couple.” You looked down at your watch. 

“Well it’s only noon, so we’ll just have to find something to keep us busy until the appointment.” You suggested showing the girls around town, but you could tell Bonnie was tired from the long trip here. “Perhaps Rebekah can catch me up on everything I’ve missed down here in the quarter.” 

“How about I treat us all to lunch?” Rebekah offered. “Just us girls, of course.” She winked at your two best friends, who still seemed slightly uneased by her presence. You clasped your hands together mouthing the word “Please” over and over again. Bonnie grinned, only mildly reluctant. 

“So long as you’re paying.”

The four of you headed down the stairs to find Enzo surrounded by your three brothers, all looking as intimidating and menacing as ever. When he saw you, Enzo smiled nervously. 

“There’s my lovely fiancé!” He exclaimed, wrapping his arm around you and looking back at your brothers with a gaze that said ‘See, I’m safe now!’. “Klaus and I were just talking about you.” 

“Oh really?” You inquired, shooting Nik and deadly glare. “I would love to stay and chat, but we’ve decided to go out to lunch before we head to the Bridal Boutique this afternoon.” Enzo went pale. 

“Just the four of you?” He squeaked and Kol snickered. 

“Well it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride’s dress before the wedding.” You shrugged. “Besides, you have to go look at suits with my brothers.” His eyes were filled with a comical amount of fear. “Also…” You pulled him aside, though you knew everyone would be listening in. It was hard to have a private conversation in a room full of people with supernatural hearing. “Don’t you need to make a phone call?” 

“I was… planning on it.” He nodded and you smacked the back of his head. “Ow! What in bloody hell was that for?” 

“Call. Him.” You growled and he slumped his shoulders, groaning. 

“Okay fine.” You started to walk away, but he kept his hand on your elbow. “And do you think it’s a good idea to leave me with them?” You turned to your brothers. 

“Klaus will be on his best behavior, won’t you Nik.” You said, the threat of ripping him limb from limb should anything happen to Enzo in your voice. “Besides, Elijah will be there and he will keep the others in line.”

“I shall do my best.” Elijah chuckled, putting a hand on Enzo’s shoulder. He tried not to flinch. 

“Great! Well we will be heading out then. I’ll see you later tonight.” You place a quick kiss on Enzo’s cheek before rushing off the girls. 

The impending doom looming over him intensified as Klaus stepped forward. 

“Well if they’re going out, I don’t see why we can’t get a bite to eat.” He stared menacingly at Enzo, who gulped. “Who’s hungry?” 

-

You stood in front of the mirror, running your hands down the tulle skirt. It was a gorgeous dress, but it just wasn’t the dress. Luckily, when you came out of the dressing room, your entourage agreed with your doubts in a very vocal manner. 

“No.” Rebekah shook her head, her eyes traveling up and down the length of fabric. “You look like a glorified Barbie.” 

“Actually, I agree. Way too much sparkle.” Caroline quipped. Bonnie nodded. The attendant came in asking what everyone thought. 

“My sister shall look nothing less than royalty.” Rebekah commanded. She pulled the woman towards her. “Find her the most elegant dress in the store, then come back and ask me.” She compelled and the woman sashayed off. 

“And make sure it’s sexy!” Caroline called after her. The four of you giggled.

It was almost perfect, but a part of your heart was still aching. You knew exactly what was missing. You felt your shoulders fall and looking around, your eyes filled with tears.  Caroline immediately noticed and jumped off of the couch. 

 “You can’t cry yet! You haven’t even picked a dress!” She whined, putting her hands on your shoulders, trying to read what was wrong. You laughed and wiped the moisture from your cheeks.

“I just wish Elena could be here. With all of us.” You had always imagined all of your friends being there if you ever got married and now… it just seemed incomplete. Bonnie nodded in agreement and held up her glass of champagne. 

“To Elena.” She toasted. “I’m sure she’s watching over this from whatever weird, supernatural coma world she’s in.” The rest of you held up your glasses with small, sad smiles and echoed. 

“To Elena.” 

-

Enzo stood uncomfortably as the tailor fitted the suit onto him. The rest of the room was completely silent, with the occasional question from the tailor that Enzo would answer quickly and quietly. Klaus sat, sharpening the leg of the wooden table next to him. Elijah was flipping through the newspaper and Kol just looked bored.   

“Do stop that Niklaus,” Elijah sighed. “You’re being childish.” 

“Someone has to be prepared for when this all blows over.” Klaus shrugged. Enzo clenched his fists but remained silent. “Now as to how I’ll kill him, I haven’t entirely decided.”

“I think you two should be a little more excited.” Kol stood up, circling around Enzo and pointing something out to the tailor. “We are to have a new brother! Someone else to add to the family drama. To torment for the rest of our never ending lives.” He grinned. Enzo couldn’t tell if Kol was mocking him, or attempting to be sincere. From what Y/N had told him about her twin, he figured it was a bit of both and the best he was going to get. 

“I’m just taking the necessary precaution for when this riff raff breaks our sister’s heart.” He threw the stake at Enzo, who barely ducked in time. 

“That is it!” Enzo shouted, his temper finally getting the better of him. “I have done nothing but love Y/N for as long as I have had the pleasure of knowing her. How dare you accuse me of not meeting your standards- which, by the way, are designed for every man who comes into your sister's lives to fail. Y/N loves me and I love her and I will not stand for anyone who suggests otherwise.” The sudden outburst made all three brothers stare at Enzo in surprise. Elijah put down his paper, seeing his younger brother draw closer to the young vampire.

 Enzo’s eyes widened with fear as Klaus came towards him. This was it. This was the end. And he didn’t even get to finish the suit. The hybrid leaned in close, his voice deep and mischievous. 

“Now there’s the spirit I’ve heard so much about.” Klaus smirked. Enzo lowered his brows in confusion. “No need to fuss, I’m still planning your gruesome death, but for now…” He clapped his hands together. “We have a wedding to prepare for.” He tossed Enzo’s cell phone to him. “And if I remember correctly you have a phone call to make. Tell Damon I said hello.” Klaus compelled the tailor to take a break and the three Mikaelsons left the room. 

Enzo sighed and dialed the number.

“What now?” Damon answered. 

“I have to ask you something…” Enzo ran his fingers through his hair. Why was this so hard? Damon was probably his only friend in the living world, so he didn’t really have any other options. “You see, Y/N and I are getting married-”

“Yeah, Caroline told me.” Damon interrupted. “Congrats on becoming part of the psycho original family.” 

“Damon,” Enzo snapped, growing impatient. “I’m trying to ask you to be my best man.” The other line went silent. 

“Wow…” Damon blew out a breath. “I mean… yeah. Sure. Why not? I love weddings.” Changing his tone, he poured himself a drink as usual and made a mental note to get a tux. “Where are you getting married again? Is it a destination wedding, because I would love to go to Hawaii-” 

“It’s in New Orleans.” Enzo said and he could hear Damon nearly choke on his drink. 

“No. No way. You’re on your own.” As he went to hang up, Enzo started to beg. 

“Please Damon. I know that you don’t have a great reputation with Y/N’s family, but this is really important for me.” He pleaded. With still no answer, he let out a desperate sigh. “You’re the only friend I’ve got.” Damon was quiet for a long time, having an angry debate with himself before finally answering.

“I’ll be there.” 

-

The night was glistening with stars, along with the multitude of candles Caroline had strung about the courtyard. She had transformed the space into the perfect place for one final romantic dinner before Enzo and you tied the knot. Bonnie, Rebekah, and Freya had spent the past two hours helping you get ready. Caroline had insisted on formal- and on picking out the dress. As much as you hated to admit, your friend had impeccable taste. The dress was the perfect mix of sexy and elegant, much like the dress you had chosen earlier that day. 

Enzo stood patiently outside your door, offering his arm as you finally emerged. He tried to keep his jaw from dropping. 

“You look stunning.” He smiled and suddenly all of the feelings you had first felt when the two of you started dating came rushing back. All of the nerves mixed with excitement. All of the short electric bursts shooting through your skin. Everything burned brighter and lit up your face in a way that made you glow. As he led you down the stairs, your eyes glittered in the lights. Enzo couldn’t imagine you looking more beautiful than you did in that moment. 

He pulled out your chair for you before taking his seat across the table. A bottle of wine waited beside a basket of fresh bread from a nearby bakery.

At first you couldn’t think of anything to say. You just twisted your pasta around and around on your fork as Enzo poured the wine. He, too, seemed to feel the awkwardness between you and he chuckled softly to himself. 

“Why does it suddenly feel so much harder to talk?” He asked in a tone of amused frustration. You laughed, letting your shoulders relax as you took a sip of wine.

“I was thinking exactly the same thing.” You sighed, letting a genuine smile spread across your face. “It’s probably just the nerves for the wedding, but I can hardly breathe half the time, let alone hold a conversation.”

“It is daunting, isn’t it?” He mused, placing a hand on top of yours. “An eternity with me?” 

“Frankly, I can’t think of anything better.” You smiled and raised your glass for your second toast that day. “Here’s to the next five days before the rest of our eternity.” He clinked his glass gently against yours, admiring the view before him. The candle light made a halo around your head and the flowers that Caroline had picked brought out the color of your eyes. 

“You have truly outdone yourself.” Klaus told Caroline, who was standing next to him on the balcony above the couple. 

“It’s their last dinner as a non-married couple.” She shrugged. “I figured a little romance was necessary.”  She eyed him suspiciously. “So you’re really okay with this?”

“Okay with what?” He asked innocently, though he knew exactly what she meant. She cocked an eyebrow. 

“With your sister getting married.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I mean, every time Rebekah has found a lover, he is either brutally murdered or he mysteriously vanishes.” 

“I haven’t decided what I shall do with Lorenzo yet.” Klaus gave her a mischievous look and she rolled her eyes. 

“He might be a handful, but Enzo is a pretty good guy. Especially when he’s with Y/N.” She thought for a second before adding. “He kind of reminds me of you.” 

“Surely he doesn’t meet my grand stature.” Klaus brought her hand up to his lips. “If you would excuse me, dear Caroline, I believe I shall turn in for the night.” He saw the blush rush to her cheeks and smirked before walking away with a slight skip in his step. 

As you watched your brother make his way to his room, you stood from the table and excused yourself for a moment, cutting Klaus off before he reached the door. 

“Can I talk to you, Nik?” You asked and he tilted his head to the side with curiosity. You both went into the study, shutting the door behind you. Elijah had been relaxing in his favorite chair after his own romantic dinner with Hayley. He put down his book and looked at you in anticipation. 

“Is something wrong?” He wondered and you shook your head. 

“I have something I have been meaning to ask the two of you…” You paused, trying to think of how to phrase what you were about to say. It was one of the most important questions besides your proposal to Enzo itself. “You see… I would very much like it if- well you know Kol isn’t all that sentimental, and you both mean so much to me. You’re my brothers, for heaven’s sake! You have always been there for me no matter what trouble I found myself in.” You knew you were ranting again and took a deep breath, trying to get to the point. “I love you both so dearly and I was hoping that you would both give me away.” 

At first neither brother said anything. They just stared at you as emotion filled their eyes and loving smiles appeared on their faces. 

“It would be an honor.” Elijah beamed. Klaus shrugged. 

“Well I suppose I have nothing else going on.” He teased. You pulled both of them into a hug, tears of joy filling your eyes. Elijah had always been there for you, but it was Klaus that you were so ecstatic about agreeing. It meant that- in his own, strange way- that he approved of you being married to Enzo. And that meant the world to you. 

Elijah placed a light kiss on your forehead, Klaus doing the same, and the two pulled away. 

“Now, I believe that you have a romantic dinner to get back to.” Elijah pointed out. “And we mustn't keep Lorenzo waiting.” 

“Let him wait!” Klaus said draping his arm over your shoulder. “We take priority in this household.” Both you and Elijah chuckled and you kissed Klaus’ cheek.

“Elijah’s right, Nik. I should get back. Before he runs off with some trollop off the street.” You gave him a wink. Kol had told you about the suit fitting and you couldn’t help but tease Nik about it. You knew he was just being his usual over-protective self, but your fiancé had stood up to him. It made you love Enzo even more- something you didn’t even think was possible.  

Keep Reading to: A Bourbon Street Wedding

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks

[misslilli]

Whelp, with yesterday we're back at school. Teaching first grade is hard, man 😂 Thank you guys, again, for going on this adventure with me :)

Felix Felicis

MSR. AU. PG-13. | tagging @today-in-fic | read on AO3

Chapter 17 - The Mulder Boys's Birthday Bash

[ DS ]

The Saturday of the Mulder Boys’s Birthday Bash, I find myself standing in front of my closet with the girls, frowning at my selection of dresses. “What about this one?” Holly fingers a yellow sundress.

“Nah, it’s pretty but she looks like she’s going to church in that one.” Sarah tugs on a dress with a daisy print on it.

“Are you joking? That one’s even more Virgin Mary than the yellow one!”

Alex reaches into my closet and pulls out a navy two-piece dress I bought on a whim a few years back, but have never worn since then. “How about this one?”

“A, that’s perfect! It’s classy, yet sexy, just what we’re going for!” Sarah shoves me towards my bathroom. “Go try it on, D! And wear those nude heels with it.” I take the dress out of Alex’s arms and the shoes from Sarah and change into the outfit quickly. The straps drape across my arms just below my shoulders and it’s low cut just enough for my comfort. My cross necklace gleams against my skin and I decide to keep it on for tonight. Since it’s a two-piece, there’s just a sliver of skin visible between the top and the skirt, which flares out and swishes around my knees.

Slipping on my heels I step outside and the girls gasp in unison. “Yes, that’s the one! How does it feel D?” Holly pulls me over and I twirl in front of the full-length mirror, smiling as the skirt billows out around my legs.

“It’s beautiful, I love it. Thanks, girls!”

“The Mulder boys won’t know what hit ‘em when you show up wearing that!” Sarah winks at me suggestively and I roll my eyes at her.

“You know exactly that that’s not why I’m wearing it!”

Now it’s Sarah’s turn to roll her eyes. “Yeah sure, just keep telling yourself that…”

“Come on guys, we’re already unfashionably late. I’ll just call us a cab, are you ready?”

I grab a shawl against the cold and my purse before we make our way downstairs to wait for the cab. When we arrive at the house, we can already hear faint party noises from the backyard and my heart’s beating hard against my chest when we walk up the front walkway to ring the doorbell. My gaze wanders around the front of the house, the glass veranda on the right catching my eye. It’s completely different from our beach house, but it’s beautiful all the same.

The door opens to reveal Principal Skinner with a glass of whiskey in his hand and he holds the door open for us. “Hello ladies, come on in! You look extraordinarily beautiful tonight! Follow me, the party’s out back in the yard.”

He leads us through the house and I notice that it’s got polished hardwood floors and is furnished with antiques, giving it a cozy feel. We walk past the glass veranda which houses the dining room on the right and the living room with a massive couch to the left, which opens into the kitchen. The wooden staircase to the first floor is tucked away in the back. Skinner points us to the bathroom as we walk past it before we step outside onto the back porch and my breath catches in my chest.

They really went all out on this party, there’s string lights twinkling all around the hedge and in the trees, catered food and a bar in one corner, round tables in the middle and a massive dancefloor with a DJ in the other corner. Holly whistles through her teeth. “Man, they sure know how to live it up. Why are our parties never this nice? Jesus, I think they invited half the town for this.”

“Well, that’s on me I guess, they don’t know many people around here yet so I figured it would be the perfect opportunity to make new acquaintances,” Principal Skinner admits but I’m only half listening because my eyes are too busy scanning the crowd. Sarah nudges my hip and tilts her head over to the bar and I’m embarrassed that she knows exactly who I was looking for. There he is, deep in conversation with Skinner’s wife, laughing at something she said.

He’s wearing a dark blue suit with a white dress shirt and a crimson tie and while the sight of him in a plain t-shirt with jeans are enough to make my heart skip a beat, him in that suit is going to give me a heart attack.

“Would you look at that D, you color coordinated, matchsiiiesss.” Holly whispers in my ear and I give her a pointed look.

“Shut up, Holly!” I hiss at her.

Just then, he looks over at us standing on the elevated porch and I can practically feel the slight burn his eyes leave as they travel up and down my body, giving me the once over. I hope he has a defibrillator. He flashes us a smile and raises his hand in a small wave, then continues his conversation with Arlene Skinner.

“Come on, girls, let’s put the presents on the gift table and get something to eat and drink.” ‘Eat, drink and be merry for today you may die.’

At the bar we sidestep the wine for now, since we haven’t eaten yet and I don’t want to embarrass myself by getting tipsy and stumbling over my heels. With my luck, I’ll just faceplant at a certain someone’s feet. ‘Huh, maybe he’ll catch me in those strong arms of his, though, if you’re really lucky…‘

When he spots our little circle, Felix comes over to us wearing a boy version of his dad’s suit, only with short dress pants and sneakers better suited for running around with the other kids. He’s tugging a tall woman along, with wavy brown hair and a kind face that seems somewhat familiar, but I’m not sure where to place her. His face is flushed and he beams at us happily.

“You came!”

“Of course we came, happy birthday Felix!” Sarah raises her glass to him and we all chime in with our Happy birthdays. The woman he came over with also raises her glass and ruffles his hair affectionately.

“This is my teacher Miss Anderson, and Miss Carter and Miss Spencer and Miss Scully,” he introduces us while the woman takes her turn shaking our hands. She regards me curiously and her lips curve into a smile.

“I’m Sam, Fox’s sister and Felix’s favorite aunt!” His sister, that’s why her face seemed so familiar. “So you’re the enigmatic Miss Scully I’ve heard so much about. It’s so nice to finally meet you!” She notices the surprised look on my face. “Only good things, I promise. Felix won’t shut up about you when we talk on the phone.” I laugh, mostly because of the exasperated look Felix gives his aunt at revealing his secret.

“Glad to hear it, we’re having a lot of fun with him during recess! Nice to meet you, Sam. I really like your dress, did you get it around here?”

“Thanks, but no, I got it back in LA, I’m only visiting for a couple of days, I just couldn’t miss my two handsome boys’s birthday bash!”

“Handsome, huh? You spoil me sis!” Her brother has snuck up behind her, throwing his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side and planting a kiss on her cheek. “Hi ladies, thanks for coming, you look very lovely today!” We raise our glasses to him as well, wishing him a happy birthday and my drink spills over a little in my shaky hand. I pray that no one notices.

“Sam I’m so sorry to drag you away, but can you help me out and check if everything’s alright with the caterers?” They excuse themselves and we decide it’s time for us to check out what said caterers have prepared, our stomachs already rumbling. Hopefully, the butterflies in my stomach will make room.

----------

[ Sam ]

After checking with the caterers inside, I return to the party, standing on the back porch to watch everyone have a good time and I’m secretly a little proud of myself. Planning the party from all the way across the country had been stressful to say the least, but it turned out great. My gaze wanders around the tables and it catches on the tiny red-head and her three friends, who seem to be having a great time, laughing and chatting at their table.

I’ve heard many stories from Felix over the last few weeks but what surprised me the most was the way my brother looks at her. When I saw the way his whole face lit up when she walked in, I realized that Felix was not the only one taken with Miss Scully. She’s not his usual type - not that she’s not pretty, she is, very much so - but she’s actually nice. A vast improvement from the piece of work that’s his ex-wife, let me tell you. I wonder if he’s thought about asking her out yet.

----------

[ DS ]

After dinner, we’re treated to another visit from the little Mulder, who’s breathless from the game of tag with his friends. “Hey Felix! Are you having a good time?” He nods enthusiastically, trying hard to catch his breath.

“Yeah, auntie Sam did a really good job! I can’t wait for my cake, she said it’s really huuuge! And the DJ is playing aaaall my favorite songs, too!”

Suddenly shy, he shuffles his feet a bit and then, gathering all his courage, he looks up at me and holds out a tiny hand. “Miss Scully, will you dance with me?”

“Of course, birthday boy, come on.”

----------

[ Sam ]

Once I’m finished making another round of checking that everything’s running smoothly, I spot my brother standing at the bottom of the stairs, watching the party. Stopping on the last step, I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my chin on his shoulder. “Great party, huh?”

“Yeah, you did a pretty good job sis. And Skinner’s managed to gather up quite a crowd. Almost everyone’s here tonight!”

“You know what I think? You’d be just as happy if it were only you and one other special guest here tonight.” He turns his head a little, frowning.

“What?” I motion my head to the woman who’s currently talking to Felix at her table. “Aah. Is it that obvious?” I snort derisively

“Are you kidding me, bro? I’ve known you all my life, I can see the hearts in your eyes from a mile down the road. Have you asked her out yet?”

“No… I’m so nervous around her I can barely string more than a few coherent words together. She probably thinks I’m a huge idiot. I asked her if she believes in aliens, Sam!” We watch as Felix holds his hand out to her, asking her to dance with him. He’s so cute I can barely stand it.

“I’m sure that’s not true. You should take a page out of your son’s book though, boy’s got game!” My brother laughs as the somewhat mismatched pair sways on the dancefloor.

I release him from my embrace, an idea popping into my head. “You should go and cut in.” Now he fully turns to me and looks at me like I’m crazy.

“What? No…” He’s making his panic face.

“What yes! Carpe diem, right now!” I give him a gentle shove in the direction of the dancefloor. “Go! I’ll handle the music.”

----------

[ DS ]

Of course, I can’t say no to the little charmer and we make our way to the dancefloor and I sway with Felix in time to the music, twirling him around until he giggles.

“You look really handsome tonight, Felix!”

He smiles shyly and narrowly avoids stepping on my shoes. “Thank you! You look really beautiful too.”

“You’re absolutely right, son. Mind if I cut in?” A tingle shoots up my spine at the sound of his voice and Felix nods, stepping back. His dad holds out his hand to me. “A dance for the other birthday boy?”

“Well technically, it’s not your birthday for a few days.” I tease him, but I slip my hand into his and he spins me against him, wrapping his right arm around my waist, clasping my left hand in his tightly. The DJ fades into a new song and I groan inwardly as Sonny and Cher’s “I got you babe!” starts droning from the speakers. We sway for a few beats before he whips me across the dancefloor in a quick waltz. Over his shoulder I can see countless pairs of eyes following us but for once, tonight, I don’t care because all I can feel is the burn of his fingers resting on the sliver of exposed skin of my waist and the tickle of the hair at the back of his neck against my hand. God, this guy can waltz.

On the last few notes, he twirls me out with a grin on his face, tugging on my hand to bring me back in and then he dips me back for the grand finale. Dips me. The move takes me by surprise and I laugh, breathless when he brings me upright again.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to dip your lady in a waltz!” I realize my Freudian slip a fraction of a second too late. ‘Your lady? What the heck, Dana.’

He just shrugs nonchalantly, still grinning. “If I fancy to dip my lady, I will dip my lady! Thank you for this dance, Miss Scully!” He bows his head and I chuckle, curtsying. “The pleasure was all mine, Mr. Mulder!” ‘Who ARE you?’

We step off the dancefloor and I return to our table, sitting down still a little bit out of breath, only to be met with three incredulous stares. ‘Here we go, 3, 2, 1…’

“What was that, D?” Holly.

“Oh my God, the two of you on the dancefloor!” Sarah.

“That was incredible!” Alex.

I shrug, picking up my glass, but I can’t hide the blush on my face and smile around my straw. “Mr. Mulder can waltz.” I’ll never live this down.

Sometime after the birthday cakes came out, Felix appears at my side again and leans against me heavily. I can tell he’s coming down from his sugar-high. “Miss Scully, remember how I told you about the encyclopedia on butterflies?”

“Yeah I do, what about it?”

“Would you like to see it?” He looks up at me hopefully and I agree, glad to get away from the action for a while.

“Okay, come on!” Together we climb the steps to the back porch and he tugs me inside into the living room where we sit down on the couch. I can finally slip off my heels while Felix runs to get the encyclopedia and after returning, places it on my lap curling up into my side. He opens the heavy book and shows me his favorite butterflies, explaining in great detail what’s so special about it.

His voice gets more and more quiet with each new butterfly until he stops talking altogether and looking down I realize that he fell asleep, completely wiped. Coming off my own sugar high, I scoot down lower into the cushions and lean my head back against the back, closing my eyes. Just for a second.

[calumxkisses]

I Can’t Make You Love Me | c.h.

pairing: calum hood x reader

genre: angst (i’m sorry)

summary: part three of ‘Take My Breath Away’ (part 2 here)

a/n: hello everyone! here I am with part three! i made a promise, i know, and i honestly have no excuses for another angst part. in my defense, there’s going to be a last part, so we’ll see what is going to happen! please, let me know what you think about it and i hope this doesn’t disappoint your expectations. love you all! i also wanna say thank you to the anon who suggested the two songs, they were essential to the creation of this new part. 

songs for this part: can’t make you love me ; whiskey and you ; i love you (choose your fighter)

♡♡♡

Calum was not used to believing in the signs of fate; of course, in everyday life, coincidences used to happen, but he had always stopped to call them that: coincidences. But maybe he was wrong, maybe there really were signs, and one of the certainties he had always carried with him was now crumbling. 

First the fever: he hadn't been ill for years, a few colds every now and then, but never anything overly serious. Instead, this time he was hit with a bad flu, one that leads you to take too many medications to say "I'm fine" and that leads you to spend three weeks in bed. Three weeks, right around the time the wedding was planned. 

Then, the wedding dress was lost. It was made by a stylist, his girlfriend's favorite, and it came straight from France. She had gone to choose it, try it out, customize it, and then never receive it. Apparently, someone had stolen it and they had to postpone the wedding: her grandmother wanted to give her the dress of her dreams (“After all, you only get married once in a lifetime!” The old lady's said) and so they had been forced to make another one from scratch, postponing the wedding.

And then the wedding rings had come in the wrong size, the church had been booked by another couple, everything seemed to prevent the couple from getting married. 

She was exhausted, but she was still convinced to marry him. 

Calum, however, was starting to think again: Michael had told him it was normal to feel stressed and unsure about the wedding before the big day, but he knew there was so much more. Or much less, when viewed from a different point of view. Something wasn't right and he had noticed it more and more.

The truth is, things haven't been going well for a while. The relationship was beautiful, spectacular from the outside, but in his dreams, things were different; he felt it, tried to reject those thoughts, but it wasn't easy.

So Luke had decided to throw him a party. A small party, without too many guests, to try to calm the bassist's nerves. He had invited their old group, the friends with whom they had been in the mountains to celebrate several New Years, with whom they had traveled to Bali more times than they wanted to admit and with whom he had spent happy moments. He wanted to remind him that despite everything, despite the new life that was about to begin, they would be there, by his side, ready to live this new adventure with him.

Calum absolutely didn't want to go to the party. He was obviously grateful to his friends for everything they had and were doing for him, but the only thing he wanted to do was stay home, under the covers, waiting for this to pass quickly and for it to finally be his turn to be happy. He was happy, but it didn't seem like the right happiness, he was experiencing someone's happiness. Of an old version of himself, probably.. but when had all this changed?

It was a question he had often been asking himself lately, usually accompanied by a few glasses of Whiskey. He did not even like that Jack Daniel's, but it seemed the ideal solution when all the weight of the world seemed to rest on his shoulders, giving him a very strong headache, accompanied by the thousands of doubts that assailed him every day.

But she was always there, ready to close the bottle of alcohol and embrace all his insecurities, accompanying him to bed and hugging him in the dark of the night. She was an angel, and Calum knew it, she was ready to help him whenever he fell.

The room was crowded, although only few people showed up for the party. The place had been decorated with small colored lights, a recurring decoration at their parties, and on the tables there were all kinds of snacks: chips, popcorn, candies, pizza, any food that could have become a craving created by the alcohol.

The music played pop and rock hits, great classics that would please any music lover and that would be the ideal base for any type of dance that occupied the floor.

The girls were by the window, a beer pong table divided them into two teams, and little laughter spread throughout the room with each missed basket. 

His girlfriend was talking with her friends while sipping sub-branded beer at every point of the other team, a smile was on her face as she told everyone about the different ideas she had for the ceremony.

Ashton and the others were a few feet away, their bodies forming a small circle,  everyone seemed to be having a good evening commenting new albums and laughing at old jokes and moments spent together.

Calum didn’t belong to either group, he was on the sidelines of all the others, with a glass of alcohol in his hand, with his body in that room and his mind in a completely different universe. He was not in the mood, he was tired, he kept repeating to anyone who asked him the reason for this behavior and no one suspected anything or investigated in depth, because everyone knew that the preparations for a wedding were not easy, that having just released an album and preparing for a new life was tiring. Everyone understood and left him there, keeping him company only occasionally, when his eyes closed or became too glossy.

He was happy and he was really tired. Things had not gone according to plan and everything seems to be more difficult than he expected. He knew it, and he didn't blame himself for it. Everything would be fine, he would be happy and this would be the last climb before a big view. He would marry a beautiful woman, raise a family, all while pursuing his dream as a musician. Everything would be perfect, fine.

“What are you doing all alone here, loser?” A voice said at his side, a voice he hadn't heard in a long, long time, and that had missed like water in a desert. A familiar voice, which would have saved him from every bad thing.

Luke had called you just a few days before, finding you had been difficult given your continuous travels, but he knew that your presence was essential and he would have traveled the whole world to find you, pick you up and take you there. And not only because the curly-haired boy needed it, but because everyone missed you, because the concerts were no longer the same without you waiting for them with pizza and compliments for all of them. 

Ashton had met you a few months earlier for a coffee in San Francisco because your absence had become painful for him too, he who was used to talking to you on the balcony of some hotel, under the sky of any city ​​was hosting them.

You left, everyone knew you were going to, and no one had tried to stop you. You needed it. You were broken, you no longer had a certain future and you needed to find yourself, your peace, your happiness. 

You didn’t know where you would find these things, so you decided to travel the world with the money you had saved and in the end you were able to find serenity, returning to yourself and the world no longer scared you. 

You had missed Calum deeply and there had been so many times where you had found yourself with your cell phone in front of your eyes, with his contact on the screen, ready to call him. 

And it had happened a couple of times, as the sun was rising where you were and setting where he was, and he had answered you, reassuring you that everything was going well. And you told him about the beautiful places you were visiting, about the cultures you were getting to know, and you found yourself laughing at the foods he would have never tried, but that you swore he would have loved.

Despite everything, as he promised you, he remained by your side and cared for you and that helped you to move forward. You still felt so much for him, and part of you would always love the boy with the pink mug and messy hair, but maybe now something had changed. Now your heart no longer hurted so much at the thought of a future without him by your side, and you really felt happiness when you thought about their wedding. 

Sure, occasionally a few tears still fell, but the important thing was that you and Calum would be happy, even if not together.

“Doll.” It was the only thing he was able to say before hugging you tightly, with a huge smile on his face and his heart ready to explode with happiness.

And you knew that that 'doll' was worth more than the memory hidden behind the word, your badly done Halloween dress and the piece of paper stuck to your chest with your disguise written on it to help others understand.

That 'doll' carried with it all the moments you hadn't spent together, all the movies you hadn't seen together on the sofa, all the moonlit walks with Duke, every Sunday at your family brunches - the family you created with all your friends, which hasn't been the same since you left.

Calum broke away from the hug and his eyes were wet, not from the hours spent awake at night but from the emotion he was feeling in seeing you. And all of a sudden, the room was empty and your presence was the only one that mattered. 

Your hair had been cut to help your new start, but it had grown back and your skin sparkled like your eyes, full of life and happiness.

You were simply gorgeous, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. And beautiful not only for your appearance, but for the light you radiated. You had brought back the light into his darkness and there was nothing he had needed more.

On the other hand, you couldn't say the same. Of course, he was as beautiful as the sun and that hadn't changed, but that sun wasn't shining anymore. His eyes were dull, his dark circles were darker and his face looked paler. His body no longer gave off joy, but it was just there, a normal body. 

But you loved him all the same, because he was your Calum and you knew that it happened every now and then, that his world got darker, that his happiness was rarer, and you knew that you would do anything to make him feel better, to show him how much beautiful the world was thanks to his presence. 

Because the world was a better place with Calum Hood in it. 

“How are things going?” you asked, although you already knew the answer. Michael used to send you messages in which he updated you on their life without you and among the thousand news, he never forgot to tell you about Calum, how his life was progressing and how marriage was destroying him before he even got married.

“Harder than I thought, honestly. I'm a little stressed out, that's all.” He lied. You knew he was lying and he knew you knew, but that meant he didn't feel like talking about it right now, and that was okay. You didn't want to force him, he would open up when he felt the need and you would be there, because there was no reason to run away again.

“You stressed out? I would have never said that. You usually never take anything seriously.” You said giggling and giving him a friendly pat on the arm. He smiled and your heart skipped a beat. 

“How are you instead?” He asked softly, ready to hear you talk again for hours, never getting tired of your voice. A voice that had become a habit over time, which in the darkest nights he heard repeatedly listening to the voice messages you left him.

“I'm fine, honestly. I liked Thailand a lot, it's really special. In the hotel in Bangkok there was a little black elephant walking around and I think I spent half my vacation petting it and the Thai culture is so beautiful, Calum! And Santorini, what a dream! I’m pretty sure that’s how heaven looks like.”

You kept talking, remembering the Asian sun on your skin and the taste of Greek sea water. It was a dream to be able to travel, visit places and cultures that you had imagined since childhood, totally different from what you were used to. You had missed not having someone by your side in exploring these wonders, but traveling alone had helped you, it had made you a different woman. And there would still have been the opportunity to return in the future, accompanied by anyone who wanted to have an adventure with you.

Calum paid attention to all the words that came out of your mouth, noticing the happiness in your eyes in remembering everything you had experienced. You had been happy, the broken heart had been replaced by so much joy. 

He was really happy for you but, selfishly, he longed to see you again with a broken heart, because it would mean that you still loved him. 

But Calum was careful to chase away certain thoughts from his head, after all it was he who didn't stop you, it was he who let you go because you needed it, because he broke your heart and you couldn't look for help in him.

“There is this pizzeria in Naples that makes the best pizza in the world, you should try it. Nothing compared to that kind of pizza we used to order during our  Friday nights, it’s way better. And Rome by night is magical. I threw a coin in the Trevi fountain, you know? I know we don't believe in these things, but I wanted to make a wish anyway, you never know that magic really exists.”

Your voice kept repeating itself in his ears and while you joyfully told him about the wonderful places you had visited, Calum could do nothing but listen to you and imagine himself there with you, admiring the Italian sea of ​​Naples and dancing in front of the Colosseum at night, away from the prying eyes of people, on the melodies of some street artist. There was nothing he wanted more than being there with you, away from all those lies that surrounded him.

And as soon as he heard the sound of your laughter, his heart expanded and Calum knew that nothing was going right because what was missing was you. It was you who filled his days, who made sure that the sun shone even on rainy days, which made the stars jealous of so much brilliance.

It was you who took the joy out of his life as soon as you turned the corner of that old building that long-gone night of his birthday. That January 25 night he had not only lost his best friend, but he had lost what made him choose life above all his negative thoughts. 

As you told him about your adventures, you were careful to tell him only the happy moments, so that he didn't know about the bad days. But the truth was that everything hadn't gone so well and more than once you found yourself at the airport, ready to take the first plane to go back to him. 

There had been many days in which you were locked in your hotel room, hidden under the covers, crying over the loneliness that would accompany you. 

You had spent sleepless nights imagining him in his tuxedo, with his hair tidy - as far as possible - and with his usual spectacular smile on his face, on the altar of a church or on a beach of Balì, the same beach where he was lying next to you to observe the stormy sea, holding you tightly while reassuring you that you would be fine. 

And then the dream would become a nightmare, and instead of seeing you in the white dress, you saw her, shining in her wedding dress, approaching him with her makeup smeared with tears of joy, ready to promise him an eternity of love.

And you were there, sitting on some distant bench or standing at the back of the church, helpless while losing your soul mate.

At the end of your travel, you hadn't visited France. You refused to visit the Tourre Effeil, to walk along the banks of the Seine and to lose yourself in the architecture of Notre Damè. Paris was your dream since you were little, you spent entire afternoons planning your vacation in the French capital and at the age of 13 you promised yourself that you would visit Paris only with your soulmate, only with the one that would have treated you like a queen and that would have loved you like in fairy tales. 

And despite growing up, you wanted to keep the promise made to your little, innocent you. And so Paris was left out and you thought it would be forever, because the only person who could make thirteen-year-old you proud was in love with  someone else.

Then the words ended and as the stereo played Queen songs, your eyes were lost in his. The outside noises seemed to belong to a different space and the world really seemed to revolve around you and Calum. There was no one left but you two, lost in each other's minds. Your hearts had stopped beating, there were only two separate souls, ready to intertwine together. There was no longer just Calum or just you, there was you, together. Something was different, right. 

Nothing mattered anymore and even the eyes of the boy in front of you seemed to have regained their brightness. 

His hand stroked your face, gently bringing the wisps of hair on your face behind your ear, his touch was reassuring and you closed your eyes for a brief moment.

Calum took a step forward and you didn't move, his free hand took yours in his and you didn't pull it back, his gaze moved to your lips and yours to his, and neither of you moved. Neither of you wanted to leave, too caught up in the moment.

“Hey, I didn't know you were coming!” A soft voice said behind you, and the bubble created by you and Calum burst. You moved away, your hearts beating again. She was there, next to him, neither of you had noticed her coming, but her presence could no longer go unnoticed. It wouldn't have been fair.

In the end, he had chosen her. His heart was beating for another girl, whether you liked it or not. His feelings were for her and it was okay, it had to be okay. You didn't go around the world for nothing. Your heart was broken, but now it was healed. Things had to stay that way.

You were happy like that. 

“How are you doing?” She asked in her sweet voice. Her arm intertwined with the boy's and her eyes were watching you intently, interested in what your answer would be. She was so kind, so innocent, and for no reason was she jealous of you. She was perfect.

“Good! Ready to go back to everyday life, you?” You answered smiling at her. There was no way to hate her, you couldn't. You could envy her, sure, but in no way could you hate her. There was no reason to.

“A little stressed out but I can't wait to get married. It was more difficult than expected but my dream is coming true, you know? I'm not giving up now.” A laugh escaped her lips and joy was visible on her face. 

You smiled and looked at Calum quickly, making sure he was still there. His body was mainly turned towards her but his gaze was on you. 

He would have never left you anymore, He had lost you once and he wanted to make sure that that would never happen again. An awareness was making its way into his body, his mind was realizing that something, someone was wrong.

Things were about to change, someone would suffer but someone else was going to be happy forever. Things would no longer stay that way. It was time for things to go in the right way and he knew it.

It had been your laugh, your presence or maybe even your absence, but Calum finally understood.

What he didn't know, though, was that yes, things were about to change, but not for the better. He would be the one to suffer this time. 

“Wait, is that a ring I see on your finger?” The girl said pointing to your left hand and making a little cry of joy. Your gaze shifted to the ring that now occupied your finger, a small smile formed on your face but your heart didn't seem to reciprocate the feeling. The gaze of the boy was now pointed at your hand.

Something changed. 

In Tokyo, precisely, an angel had come down from heaven and stretched out his hand to you. And the sun was shining again, the cherry trees were filled with flowers and life was less disgusting. Your heart was full and not even the return trip could make your mood worse, because you were not alone anymore. The days were full of color again and the world no longer seemed black and white. Your future was full of hope, love, happiness. And you wouldn't have been hurt anymore, maybe, for a while.

A stranger had suddenly arrived in your life, with a happy smile and open arms, ready to pick up all your pieces and show you that you were worth it. He had made you see that everything would turn out for the best, ending up filling your heart with joy and love. It had been sudden, like Calum's proposal, but this surprise had been positive. 

Then he had given you a ring, a promise ring, not for a wedding - it was too early, although the feelings were growing fast - but to promise you that he would be there, as long as there was a chance. That he wouldn't hurt you and that he would take care of you. That he would love you, whatever love is. He promised you that everything would be fine.

“Yes, it's a promise ring.” You smiled thinking about it. You were happy, right? Yes, you were. You were happy, you had to be. Someone was loving you. Still, there was something different, but this wasn't the right time to think about it, after all, you still had to get used to this big change.

Of course, the feelings for the guy in front of you would always remain, for years you were convinced that he was your soulmate, but things had gone differently. And it didn't have to be a bad thing. Finally you would be happy, not together, but still side by side. There was no more reason to run away, you could continue being friends now, without excessive feelings or broken hearts.

Calum's world, however, had collapsed. It had rolled over, traveled at the speed of light and collided with his biggest fear, and it was destroyed. Not to mention his heart, reduced to thousands of bits that not even the strongest glue would be able to reattach together. His chest really hurted, as did his stomach and head, and the flu from several months ago seemed nothing in comparison. Even the mornings when he woke up with a hangover didn't hurt that much, because that pain passed. This, however, would never pass. 

Calum was in love with you. Deeply, with all of himself. He didn't want to admit it at first,it would have caused a huge disaster, but he couldn't keep lying to himself, it wouldn't do him any good. 

Sure, he had feelings for his girlfriend, but it wasn't you. And he had noticed it. He used to believe that the strong affection he felt towards you was just affection, but the months in your absence had been devastating, and it wasn't normal. He wouldn't have suffered so much for a mutual friend, but for you it was different. 

He loved you, and how deeply he loved you. Just a few minutes before he was ready to kiss you, no guilt assaulting him and he was ready to throw away months of wedding preparations for you.

It was you now, however, who no longer loved him. And the pain he felt was probably what you had felt over a year ago when it broke your heart. It was his fault, however, that he had come too late to a conclusion that everyone had come before. 

He loved you, but you loved another, and Calum knew there was nothing more to be done now.

You would have remained friends, sure, but things would definitely change now. Before, at least, there was a chance to go back. He would not get married and his kitchen would be filled with the smell of biscuits again, accompanied by the scattered flour and your dirty clothes, victims of food wars and laughs.

But now you too were engaging with another person and those moments seemed to drift further away and to belong to a distant, unattainable, unique past.

And while you and his fiancée - a name that no longer made him smile - happily talked about your news, Calum thought there was nothing more to be done.

He could have pulled back, but for what purpose? To spend a life alone? Maybe, one day his heart would start beating again for what would become his wife and in the meantime he would give her joy, because she deserved it. She would take care of him and he wouldn't spend sleepless nights in bed alone. 

So Calum drank what was left in his glass in one gulp and apologizing to th two of you, he went over to the drink table and opened a new bottle. And as the alcohol dripped into his glass, tears streamed down his face, mixing with the drink he held in his hand. He didn't even bother wiping them, he was with his back to people and away from anyone who could see him, and he just stood there for a moment, hating himself and hating you, for being so damn beautiful and in love with another, for making his heart beating again just to break it,but the truth was that there was no way he could hate you. 

He loved you too much and he was ready to sacrifice everything to see you happy, even himself. 

“It’s gonna get better, mate.” Someone softly whispered behind him before hugging him.

Ashton had witnessed everything from afar, had seen his friends in love, ready to conquer the world together, and then he had seen them hurt themselves, destroy their happiness for each other, unaware that there was no reason to do so. And even his heart ached.

Calum continued to cry, trying not to attract attention and letting himself be held by his best friend.

Was everything really going to be better?

-----

[teawaffles]

There’s No Business Like Show Business: Chapter 5, Part 1

T/N: This is one super-long chapter ( ; ω ; ) so it has been split into 2 parts.

One week later. This was the night Maya’s company had been invited to perform.

The West End of London, stretching from Soho to Covent Garden, was renowned for its large theatre district, crowded with historic names such as the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, Haymarket Theatre, and St James’s Theatre, in addition to newer entrants. [1]

Right in the centre of the district was Piccadilly Circus. At this time in history, the “Eros” fountain had yet to be built [2]. Here was the intersection of numerous thoroughfares, with pedestrians and horse-drawn carriages coming and going, day and night — the busiest spot in London.

It was here that a certain elderly noblewoman drove past in a carriage. But the next moment, she saw a strange sight in the middle of the square, and ordered her coachman to stop the carriage.

“……My word, what could that be?”

The words fell from her lips.

In the centre of the square was a simple stage about ten metres wide, composed of wooden boxes placed together and covered with boards. Passers-by had stopped to look out of curiosity, and a small crowd began to form.

After a short while, a lone woman appeared on stage.

She wore a sky-blue dress and a long, blonde wig. The crowd stared blankly as she gave a reverent bow.

“——Ladies and gentlemen, good evening. We are a small theatre company hailing from the East End. I am Maya, its chairperson.”

She raised her head, and gazed upon the whole of Piccadilly Circus.

“You may be feeling confused as to why a stage has suddenly occupied the Circus, but first, let me express our deepest gratitude that we, a theatre company of humble origins, have been able to meet you in this miraculous way.”

Her dignified voice resounded across the square, causing a stir among the onlookers. As more people noticed what was happening and gathered in droves, the crowd encircling the stage gradually expanded.

“Without further ado, let us bring you a little dream in a fantastic world.”

Maya ended her introduction with a graceful bow. Then, a man appeared on stage. Facing the crowd, he began to speak in a sonorous voice.

“It was a radiant afternoon filled with golden sunshine. A boat cruised leisurely down the river. Small, young hands gripped the oars. They seemed to lack strength: rising nimbly, then falling left and right as if to guide the oars’ movements.”

“……Hmm?”

The crowd listened intently as he narrated, with accompanying hand gestures.

“Oh, how terrible: what a cruel fate this is, to meet three girls! I’m all warm and sleepy. But still you wish to talk to me! You move my feathers, and do not breathe. But I’m all alone. I’m no match for the three of you.”

“This— Could it be……?” someone in the audience murmured.

With his monologue complete, the man took his leave. Then, another woman appeared at a corner of the stage. Holding a book in one hand, she began to read fluently from it.

“Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank——”

In tandem with the narrator’s words, the blonde-haired Maya gave a small yawn. It was as if she had swapped places with a young girl herself. Without realising it, the audience held their breath.

Then from the side of the stage, a person appeared wearing a vest and rabbit’s ears, with a pocket-watch in one hand.

By this time, the crowd encircling the stage had become fully spellbound.

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

“——All the world’s a stage. And the men and women merely players.” [3]

An actor delivered his lines from the stage of a gorgeous West End theatre, as its owner, a nobleman, looked on from the box seats.

The actor himself knew the height of his fame, and hence his actions were somewhat egotistical. Nevertheless, these were the acting skills of a true professional: his clear, bright voice resounded in every corner of the intricately decorated theatre, delving into the ears of his audience, and producing an indescribable feeling in their chests.

His salary was eye-wateringly high, but evidently, it had been an excellent decision to hire this actor. Still, despite his self-satisfaction, the nobleman had a pained expression.

The reason for it was clear. This was a renowned theatre company famous for its acting talent. Even though it was their opening night — a momentous occasion, the stalls were unusually empty.

He’d made sure to advertise the play well in advance, so this was unexpected. As he admired the actors, who were not bothered in the least by the empty seats in the audience, the nobleman stood up and headed to the entrance.

“Hey, you. Haven’t there been any more visitors?”

He directed his question to the young man behind the ticket window.

“About that— Just a while ago, it seems a show’s begun at Piccadilly Circus.”

“A show?”

“Yeah, though I heard about it from someone else. A stage suddenly appeared in the middle of the square, and it looks like there’s a play being held. It’s about…… that; the one where a girl chases a rabbit and falls down a hole, uh……”

Those keywords alone led the nobleman to the answer.

“——Do you mean, ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’?”

The young man clapped his hands in appreciation.

“Oh, that’s right. Yeah, that.” He sighed wistfully. “Ahh, it brings me back: I read it when I was a child. And as I recall…… was it ‘Maya’? It seems that’s the chairwoman’s name.”

“Wha……!”

Upon hearing that name, the nobleman recoiled in shock.

“That theatre company from the slums?”

A play held on a stage that appeared out of nowhere. The young man saw it as a mere street performance, but to the nobleman, this was something different. As soon as the image of the perpetrators surfaced in his mind, his face turned red with anger.

An extraordinary turn of events, happening right on the opening night of an important production — as if it had been carefully planned to do so. In other words, Maya and her company had intended to sabotage his production out of spite, by putting up a play out of the blue, and not even in a proper theatre. That was what the nobleman concluded.

To add insult to injury, they had chosen to perform “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland”. To stand up to a classic with a piece of children’s literature. To pit Lewis Carroll against Shakespeare.

Although it was a ridiculous idea worthy of scorn, the fact remained that they had stolen his precious audience.

He posed a question to the young ticket seller.

“Well if that’s the case, wouldn’t there be a huge commotion? The Yard should be on to them any moment now.”

“That’s the thing…… It seems they’re already gone.”

Hearing that, the nobleman threw his head back in laughter.

“I told you so. It’s all because they’re out of their depth. They can recite their lines in jail for all I care.”

However, the young man made a troubled expression.

“Uh…… Sorry. I didn’t make myself clear. Actually it seems that after finishing one scene, they specified a different location, packed up their sets quickly and left.”

“……What?”

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Alice; a great girl like you, to go on crying in this way! Stop this moment, I tell you!”

Behind the church of St. Martin-in-the-Fields, in Trafalgar Square, Maya and her company acted out the scene in which Alice shrank and grew larger, panicking all the while. The front of the stage had been covered with a white cloth, and a light shone on it from the back, allowing them to show the changes in Alice’s size in the manner of shadow puppets. As Alice grew until her head struck the roof, the audience buzzed in excitement.

Watching from the wings of the stage, Bond could see that everything was proceeding smoothly.

His plan to demonstrate the true abilities of this company, was a moving theatre that roamed all around the city of London—— a “guerrilla theatre”.

They would perform in busy areas to attract people’s attention, then quickly cut off their act and leave before the authorities arrived to stop them. After which, they would continue the performance at another location. One could say this method was the exact opposite of performing in an officially-recognised theatre.

There was a reason why they had changed the contents of their play. As their original performance comprised three short stories, there was a concern that the audience would grow bored after watching just one scene. However, staging a full-length play across various locations would keep up their interest for the next scene.

In addition, “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland” took place in a nonsensical, chaotic world, with no apparent connection between its acts. As a well-known story in itself, anyone joining in halfway would still be able to enjoy their performance — a perfect work to be presented in this manner.

The main issue was the acting, but that was helped by their practice in performing on a big stage.

As part of this plan, the play they would put up was not of the type that drew the audience’s attention to the stage right from the start, but rather one that was performed outdoors to people passing by. Hence they would have to project their voices and exaggerate their actions, but this was simply an extension of the two weeks’ practice they had done before.

Moreover, Maya and her company had extensive experience in performing children’s literature, with a focus on ease of understanding, so much so that they had almost learned the entire tale by heart. Memorising their lines had been no trouble at all.

Furthermore, the preparations at each of the locations they moved to — the very heart of the operation — were borne by the East End residents, who appreciated their performances.

The plan inevitably required manpower, but there would be no point in Bond providing it. However, with the trust of their fellow residents, Maya and her company had managed to recruit the stage crew by themselves. This achievement was their own.

As the company performed in one location, the stage crew would set up the temporary stages in the other locations across the city. They had accepted the company’s request with pleasure, and Bond couldn’t thank them enough for the depth of their kindness.

As he looked upon the crowd, all standing with eyes locked upon the stage, Bond chuckled.

——Even without a theatre, there would always be a place for acting.

It had been a wild idea to turn the city of London into their stage. But the East End residents lent them their support. And Maya and her company were putting up an excellent performance.

In a manner of speaking, this play was an all-out challenge from the people from the East End, to the gilded theatres of the West End.

Ten minutes till showtime. The players announced the location of their next act, then quickly descended from the stage.

“I’ll be leaving the cleanup to you then,” Bond addressed the remaining crew at the square. Then he directed the actors to board the carriages he had prepared. Taking the reins of one himself, he urged the horses forward in a gallop.

“Um, we owe it to you that our audience has enjoyed our play thus far, but…… I’m not sure if we can continue to do so,” Maya asked with a worried look.

Hearing that, the other actors in the carriage, who’d been going over their lines, turned solemn.

Although things had been going well so far, if their acts attracted too large a commotion, it stood to reason that Scotland Yard would put its full attention into stopping the play. Moreover, bad actors may also seek to take advantage of the hubbub. As far as possible, they wished to avoid their audience falling victim to crime.

Bond fully understood their apprehension. Because of that, he kept calm as he reassured them.

“Not to worry. I have some dependable colleagues.”

Saying that, he gazed in the direction the carriage was going, and smiled.

“It’s a popular saying, isn’t it? The show must go on.”

The curtains had been raised. Now all that was left, was to play their roles to the end.

Footnotes:

[1] This district is known as Theatreland (Wikipedia). The first two theatres listed are still standing, with St James’s Theatre having been demolished in 1957.

[2] If you were to go to Piccadilly Circus now, you would see a very prominent bronze fountain with a statue of a winged angel on top. Actually, the statue isn’t of the Greek god Eros at all. (Wikipedia)

[3] A line from Shakespeare’s As You Like It (Wikipedia).

Translator’s notes:

Quotes from Alice in Wonderland All dialogues from the East Enders’ production have been heavily referenced from the Project Gutenberg version of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Carroll.

Thinking about what year the series was set in In this chapter, we learn that the “Eros” fountain hasn’t been built yet — it was unveiled only in June 1893. But we know some events of the Phantom of Whitechapel arc, such as when the people of Whitechapel formed a militia, did take place in history — these were broadly in the autumn of 1888. So this actually works out, and gives us a sense of when the events of the manga unfolded.

Edit: The manga seems to be canonically taking place between 1879-1882 latest — you can read my analysis here!

Piccadilly Circus in 1868 This is entirely for fun — here’s a screenshot from the game Assassin’s Creed: Syndicate (set in London 1868), with Evie standing at Piccadilly Circus:

I couldn’t find any pictures of the Circus from before the “Eros” fountain was built, but in Yuumori’s time, it would’ve still had the circular shape shown here. When Shaftesbury Avenue was built in 1886, it transformed Piccadilly Circus from a circle into the sort-of trapezoid crossroads layout it has retained today (British History Online).

[church-history]

Our Lady of Fatima

May 13 is the anniversary of the apparition of Our Lady to three shepherd children in the small village of Fatima in Portugal in 1917.  She appeared six times to Lucia, 9, and her cousins Francisco, 8, and his sister Jacinta, 6, between May 13, 1917 and October 13, 1917.

The story of Fatima begins in 1916, when, against the backdrop of the First World War which had introduced Europe to the most horrific and powerful forms of warfare yet seen, and a year before the Communist revolution would plunge Russia and later Eastern Europe into six decades of oppression under militant atheistic governments, a resplendent figure appeared to the three children who were in the field tending the family sheep. “I am the Angel of Peace,” said the figure, who appeared to them two more times that year exhorting them to accept the sufferings that the Lord allowed them to undergo as an act of reparation for the sins which offend Him, and to pray constantly for the conversion of sinners.

Then, on the 13th day of the month of Our Lady, May 1917, an apparition of ‘a woman all in white, more brilliant than the sun’ presented itself to the three children saying “Please don’t be afraid of me, I’m not going to harm you.” Lucia asked her where she came from and she responded,  “I come from Heaven.”  The woman wore a white mantle edged with gold and held a rosary in her hand. The woman asked them to pray and devote themselves to the Holy Trinity and to “say the Rosary every day, to bring peace to the world and an end to the war.”

She also revealed that the children would suffer, especially from the unbelief of their friends and families, and that the two younger children, Francisco and Jacinta would be taken to Heaven very soon but Lucia would live longer in order to spread her message and devotion to the Immaculate Heart.

In the last apparition the woman revealed her name in response to Lucia’s question:   “I am the Lady of the Rosary.”

That same day, 70,000 people had turned out to witness the apparition, following a promise by the woman that she would show the people that the apparitions were true. They saw the sun make three circles and move around the sky in an incredible zigzag movement in a manner which left no doubt in their minds about the veracity of the apparitions.  By 1930 the Bishop had approved of the apparitions and they have been approved by the Church as authentic.

The messages Our Lady imparted during the apparitions to the children concerned the violent trials that would afflict the world by means of war, starvation, and the persecution of the Church and the Holy Father in the twentieth century if the world did not make reparation for sins. She exhorted the Church to pray and offer sacrifices to God in order that peace may come upon the world, and that the trials may be averted.

Our Lady of Fatima revealed three prophetic “secrets,” the first two of which were revealed earlier and refer to the vision of hell and the souls languishing there, the request for an ardent devotion to the Immaculate Heart of Mary, the prediction of the Second World War, and finally the prediction of the immense damage that Russia would do to humanity by abandoning the Christian faith and embracing Communist totalitarianism.  The third “secret” was not revealed until the year 2000, and referred to the persecutions that humanity would undergo in the last century: “The good will be martyred; the Holy Father will have much to suffer; various nations will be annihilated'”.  The suffering of the popes of the 20th century has been interpreted to include the assassination attempt on Pope John Paul II in 1981, which took place on May 13, the 64th anniversary of the apparitions. The Holy Father attributed his escape from certain death to the intervention of Our Lady: “... it was a mother's hand that guided the bullet's path and in his throes the Pope halted at the threshold of death.”

What is the central meaning of the message of Fatima? Nothing different from what the Church has always taught: it is, as Cardinal Ratzinger, now Pope Benedict the XVI,  has put it, “the exhortation to prayer as the path of “salvation for souls” and, likewise, the summons to penance and conversion.”

Perhaps the most well known utterance of the apparition of Our Lady at Fatima was her confident decalaration that  “My Immaculate Heart will triumph”. Cardinal Ratzinger has interpreted this utterance as follows: “The Heart open to God, purified by contemplation of God, is stronger than guns and weapons of every kind. The fiat of Mary, the word of her heart, has changed the history of the world, because it brought the Saviour into the world—because, thanks to her Yes, God could become man in our world and remains so for all time. The Evil One has power in this world, as we see and experience continually; he has power because our freedom continually lets itself be led away from God. But since God himself took a human heart and has thus steered human freedom towards what is good, the freedom to choose evil no longer has the last word. From that time forth, the word that prevails is this: “In the world you will have tribulation, but take heart; I have overcome the world” (Jn 16:33). The message of Fatima invites us to trust in this promise.

[sry-chrlie]

A, B, C, D… ⮕ itty bitty charlie

a scene from childhood:

D is for Dead Man’s Wish ft alec flynn, elle reynolds, jamie dyer, & oliver hayde

It was the last Summer of their childhood. 

At least, the last Summer they themselves would think of it that way. They’d still be kids in the eyes of the universe for years yet, but middle school was fast approaching. Junior High would turn the tides of their lives, great waves that crashed and fell apart and eventually came back to shore again. So this Summer was important. 

Charlie, Alec, and Oliver spent a lot of that Summer in the treehouse in the North’s big backyard. They had stocked it by then with all the necessities; pictures and crude drawings on the walls, comic books and games to play, a lantern, and sleeping bags for nights spent laughing in the dark. 

That afternoon in July, the three were buzzing with energy as usual, with nowhere to put it. Alec toyed with an ancient radio they had found in the junkyard, attempting to get it to play anything but static. Charlie was bicycle kicking idly into the air to see if he could break a world record. Oliver was flipping through a motorcycle magazine, picking out the coolest ones he was definitely going to buy when he got older.

It was Oliver that succumbed to the tedium first. He tossed the magazine aside, groaning loudly in frustration.

“I’m bored,” he announced. 

“Hello Bored, I’m Dad,” Alec responded quickly, not looking away from the radio dials that he was tweaking.

Charlie: “So funny, dude.”

Oliver hopped up, wandering over to Charlie to grab his feet midair. 

“Hey, I only needed to go for like 57 more hours ‘til I broke the record. Now I’ve gotta start all over again,” he whined.

“Time’s up,” Oliver said. “I’m hungry. Do you think your mom made lunch?”

“She’s got a church lady thing today with Mrs. Bailey,” Charlie said. “They’re organizing some dumb town fair thing.” Oliver looked incredibly disappointed by this, so Charlie sat up. “We could raid the kitchen though. No one’s home.”

Oliver grinned. “I love a good raid. Alec, you coming?”

“Nah.” Alec shook his head, still deep in concentration. “Bring me back somethin’ good.” 

So Charlie and Oliver climbed down, back to Earth below. They shoved each other, laughing as they raced into the back door of the North residence. Normally Oliver and Alec didn’t step foot into Charlie’s house. Not only was it intimidating in its size, but there was always a chance Marshall North would appear from the depths and banish them to the shadow dimension. Charlie’s dad wasn’t exactly a fan of his friends.

Charlie felt strangely shy as Oliver looked around, knowing how different their circumstances were, even at 11 years old. Just by being inside that massive kitchen, it felt like Charlie was somehow bragging.

“What are you hungry for?” he asked, distracting Oliver from his study. 

“Whatever you’ve got is fine,” Oliver answered. Because he was used to kitchens that were barely stocked with anything. He fed himself on what was available - stale Cheez-Its, slices of Kraft singles, bologna sandwiches, packs of Ramen if he was lucky. 

Charlie made an indecisive noise with his mouth, opening up all the cabinets like a poltergeist to reveal a goldmine of food. A pantry that was overstocked, if anything. Filled with colorful bags and boxes. Oliver gazed at it all like he’d been invited to the Wonka factory.

They ravaged the kitchen and pantry, collecting random snacks until their arms were overflowing. They weren’t sure what Alec was in the mood for, after all. They had to think of him, too.

“Hey, look,” Charlie said. He reached into the fridge, appearing a moment later with a distinct brown bottle in his hand. “My dad’s beer. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Oliver smiled wickedly. “He won’t notice it’s gone?”

“Pfft.” Charlie laughed. “He’s got enough.” 

They had never drank beer before, so this moment was very scandalous. They were giggling like imps all the way back outside, excited to show Alec their loot. Only to find their treehouse castle under siege.

Jamie Dyer was standing beneath the oak tree, staring nervously up at the scene. Elle Reynolds was climbing the ladder, while Alec hung out of the open door, trying to whack her with a foam sword. 

“Back! Be gone, foul wench!”

“Alec Flynn, if you hit me with that stupid sword, I swear I’ll turn you into a frog!”

“Turn him into a cat!” Jamie encouraged.

“What’s going on?” Oliver asked, ever the lancer, ready to jump into battle with his friends at a moment’s notice.

“I told Elle that no girls are allowed up here, but obviously she’s deaf. Or dumb. Or both,” Alec yelled. 

“You’re rude. It’s a wonder anyone lets you talk at all,” Elle insisted, trying to reach with one hand to grab the sword.

Oliver and Charlie approached Jamie, who looked at them anxiously. Even after all those years, Jamie seemed constantly unsure about the concept of having friends. Like at any moment, one member of that infamous Gravewood trio would choose to betray him - teasing him or pummeling him for being weaker, smaller, and nerdier than his twin brother. Then the others would follow along, because that’s what they did. 

“Gentlemen, I think we’ve got a real war brewing here,” he said, glancing at the snacks the two boys held. 

“No way.” Charlie shook his head. Ever the peacemaker, he walked to the bottom of the treehouse ladder. “Stop the violence. We’ve got snacks and we know how to use ‘em.”

Both Elle and Alec stopped trying to kill each other. They looked down at Charlie, who beamed up at them, shaking a tray of Oreos like they were puppies who would come over at the sound of treats.

It worked like a charm. All five of them were hanging out on the grass in 3 minutes flat. They didn’t even bother to sit down for their picnic; everybody started opening boxes and grabbing snacks straight from Charlie and Oliver’s arms.

“What are you doing here anyway?” Alec asked, shoving an entire cookie into his mouth. 

Elle and Jamie shared a look.

“We’re in the pursuit of knowledge,” he answered. “We’ve read a story about Gravewood and we intend to investigate to see if it’s true.” 

“The story of Charlie’s treehouse?” Oliver asked. “‘Cause we’ll never tell you that one. You’re gonna have to chain us up and try torture.” He mimed gouging out an eyeball, making a wet noise with his mouth. 

“We’re eating,” Elle admonished. The boys simply laughed. She shook it off. “Anyway, no. That’s not the story.” A flash of excitement and conspiracy appeared across her features. Elle leaned in, like someone might be listening who shouldn’t. “Have you ever heard of the dead man’s wish?”

Gravewood was a town of legends and myths. It was fitting, for a place named after a cemetery. Jamie and Elle put on a theatrical performance of the one they’d newly read, creeping around in a circle around the boys, reciting the thrilling tale. Charlie, Oliver, and Alec watched with rapt attention, drawn easily into this circle of imagination. 

The crux of it was this: there was a man who had died in Silent Phantom Cave. If you found where he was buried and paid your respects, he would grant you any one wish. Anything you desired. 

“Anything?” Alec asked.

“Anything,” Jamie assured.

“Why’d you come here then? I don’t think there are any old dudes buried under my house,” Charlie said, shooting his home’s foundation an uneasy look. Hoping that he hadn’t been sleeping above skeletons all these years.

“Well funny you should ask that, Charlie.” Elle’s expression had turned into something sweet and coy, though still somehow conspiratorial. She clasped her hands behind her back, edging closer to Charlie. He straightened up, clearing his throat and trying not to stare at the pretty blonde curl of her hair, which he’d only started noticing that year. “We need you three to help us find the grave. Jamie and I are the brains, but we need some brawn to back us up. Just in case.” 

���In case of ghosts?” Charlie gulped. 

“Ghosts aren’t real,” Oliver insisted. “How do we know this isn’t some plan to get us away from the treehouse so someone else can steal all our stuff?”

Alec shrugged. “I dunno, it sounds really fun to me. I’d love to get down on that wish deal.” 

“Ghosts?” Charlie reiterated. Elle batted her eyelashes at him prettily. “Ugh, fine, whatever! Stop looking at me like that, it’s gross!”

And so that was the afternoon’s adventure. Jamie and Elle had come ready with supplies, but the boys packed their own bags, too. Snacks, flashlights, walkie talkies. The single bottle of beer was slipped into Charlie’s pack. In case of emergency. Then they grabbed their bikes and they were off.

Traversing Gravewood on bicycle was the easy part. They pedaled through the suburban area, turning briefly down Main St. Jamie honked the horn on his bike when they saw Marie on the sidewalk with a bag of groceries; she waved with a smile, like the friendly innkeeper wishing luck to the adventuring party. On and on they rode, past the trailer park where they had a brief tussle with the dog always chained up right outside. Oliver liked to play chicken by seeing how close he could get without getting his face ripped off. But then they were gone again, speeding up a big hill and around a bend, across the RV park, until finally they were at the old train tracks bordering the forest.

This is where they had to abandon their bikes, laying them in the grass and taking the rest of the trip by foot. Together, they followed the tracks for a while. 

Jamie was in the lead, carrying a map in his hands. He was the resident scholar; the wizard in search of ancient magics, who had studied for this his entire life. 

Oliver was second, flitting in and out of the trees, running ahead and then trailing behind. Always the rogue protector, keeping watching from the shadows for baddies that might pop out.

 Charlie, the group’s knight or chivalrous paladin, carried Elle on his back. 

Elle was like the runaway princess, fleeing the castle for a taste of adventure. As the party’s cleric, she carried a bag of snacks and supplies, ready to heal any hunger. Or booboos. 

Alec followed behind. The adventuring bard was strumming a tune on an old ukulele he’d brought - the one supply Alec had packed, rather than anything useful or practical. 

They ventured for what felt like a whole hour. Into the forest and out of it, up and down the mountainside, through the quarry, until they found themselves at Silent Phantom Cave. They approached with much reverence and far more caution than they’d shown their town ‘til that point. Everyone had heard the tales of this cave - and there were many. Of ghouls, of missing miners, of echoes that came back with voices not your own. 

“Keep your eyes peeled,” Jamie told the group. “The grave could be anywhere near here.”

“How will we know when we find it?” Alec asked.

Jamie hesitated, like he hadn’t prepared for that. How were they supposed to find an unmarked gravesite? Everyone glanced at each other for an awkward moment before Charlie finally spoke up:

“I think we’ll just know,” he said resolutely. “That’s sort of how magic works.”

They all agreed on this point, spreading out into the surrounding woods. Jamie used his map to look, writing little notes and points of interest onto the paper. Oliver searched in the dark places, where the trees had blocked out the sun. He was the only one who dared get close to the cave, climbing over rocks and peeking into secret crevices. Charlie had climbed a tree in the hopes that being high up would give him a good vantage point to see far into the distance. Elle was wandering around with a finger tapping against her chin, deep in thought as if trying to get into the mind of this story. She had that look on her face: if I were a magical dead man, where would I be buried? Alec was running about, scaring birds and squirrels as he shouted: “Hello! Are there any dead guys out here? I just want to ask you a question!”

When dusk began to fall, they all slowly came back together. Disappointment was evident on all their faces, though Jamie Dyer looked the most dejected.

Charlie: “We can always try again some other day.”

Jamie: “Why don’t we keep looking? We brought flashlights. We could stay out here as long as it takes.”

Elle: “I don’t know, Jamie... My parents would get really worried if I got home so late.”

Oliver: “Plus I’m hungry. Looking for dead people really works up your appetite.” 

Alec: “Hey, we can fix that!”

Alec dug into the pack on Elle’s back. He pulled out the snacks and they all sat in a circle for an impromptu picnic before the long trip home. Oliver held the beer bottle aloft. “Anyone wanna try a little of this?” he asked devilishly. Elle gasped, but Charlie and Alec looked excited. Alec reached out to take the bottle, inspecting the label like he knew anything about beer and could tell whether it was good by the brand name. 

“How do we open it?” he asked, revealing the real lack of knowledge he had.

“Uhh... did we pack a bottle opener?” Charlie asked Oliver. 

Oliver: “I thought you would do that.” 

Charlie: “Me? Why me?”

Oliver: “Uh, ‘cause it’s your dad’s beer.”

Elle: “You STOLE your dad’s beer? Are you all lunatics?”

Charlie, Oliver, and Alec all laughed as if to say: Yes. Yes we are.

Elle blushed. She looked antsy, but she also said: “I guess... if we’re sharing it, maybe it’s fine. Have you tried twisting it off?”

Jamie sighed. “It doesn’t work like that,” he said. He took the beer from Alec, expertly using the sharp end of a stone to pop the cap off. He handed it back, shoulders hunched under the weight of the astonished looks around him. It was as though he was torn between pride that he’d impressed them and some internal agony that he’d known how to do that at all. 

Alec: “Jamie Dyer... is a god!”

Oliver and Charlie whooped cheers for Jamie; Elle clapped appropriately. Jamie blushed crimson. “Ugh, everybody knows how to do that," he insisted, despite having been the only one in the group who did. “There’s no way I’m drinking any though. It’s poison. You’re all going to poison yourselves and when you pass out in the woods, I won’t be able to take you all back. I’m saving Elle and letting everyone else get eaten by bears.”

Charlie: “I could fight a bear.” 

Alec: “He could. I’ve seen it.”

Oliver: “And anyways, even if we did get eaten, what an awesome way to die.” 

On this point, the three billy goats gruff apparently agreed, passing the beer around the circle. They all - save for Jamie - took turns taking sips. Their very first beer. 

“Blech! It’s so disgusting,” Elle cried.

Alec: “Yeah, it’s bad.”

Oliver: “Like dirt flavored soda.”

Charlie: “I dunno, I could get used to it.”

They kept passing it around anyway, until the group had finished the bottle. The warmth went to their stomachs immediately. They joked and giggled and leaned into each other like old friends at the local tavern, rather than a party of preteens who’d collectively consumed a single Budweiser. Even sober Jamie, who had been so discouraged before, was lit up by a toothy smile, playing along with the games and revelry. 

It took a while for them to settle down, as dusk grew darker. When they did, nobody made the first move to leave.

 “If we do find the grave someday,” Jamie said, “what would you all wish for?”

There was a pause as they all considered this.

“Maybe... I would wish to be a princess. I’d live in a fancy castle in a faraway land where there are unicorns and princes and magical balls...” Elle wistfully painted her picture. 

Charlie giggled immaturely. “Magical balls. I would wish for magical balls too.” Elle groaned and shoved him.

“I’d wish for a million dollars,” Oliver said. “No... a million, billion dollars. ‘Cause with all that money, I could buy everybody else’s wishes. I’d be like the town genie.”

“That’s a good one,” Alec said with a nod. “I’d wish for a dog. Or - wait, no - a guitar. Or a boat. A really cool boat. But.. no.. maybe like a horse. Or two horses.” The indecisive Alec would have gone on forever if someone hadn’t stopped him. Luckily, Jamie was there to offer his own wish.

“I’d wish for this,” he said. His tone was shy, uncertain. It had been hard to hear him over Alec’s rambling, so they all quieted, asking him to speak up. “I’d wish for more nights like this,” he said, rubbing his hands and looking into the woods rather than at his friends. “A whole day just like this one that wouldn’t ever end. All five of us, together this way. Forever.”

There was another pause. One in which they all seemed to telepathically agree that Jamie’s wish had been the best one of all.

“I had a lot of fun today,” Elle agreed softly. 

Charlie: “Yeah... me too.”

Oliver: “Best day ever.”

Alec: “Nothing beats it. Except maybe this day, but also there’s a dog.”

They laughed and began to gather their things. With the steady dropping of the sun, they had to use what precious daylight they had left to at least get out of the woods. When they got back to their bikes and began to pedal home, there came a point in Gravewood where they had to split up. To go home - wherever in town that was for each of them. 

They had plans to get back together for another adventure. To find the secret grave; to get their one wish. Plans, however, are hard to keep when you’re 11, on the cusp of life and responsibility. They didn’t know, on that warm Summer night, that it would be the last time. They didn’t know, as most childhood friends don’t, that this parting was significant. 

There was no fanfare. No trumpets to announce a great goodbye. Such was growing up.

There was no magic in a wish left ungranted.

[philliamwrites]

The Dawn Will Come [Chpt.6]

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Pairing: Dimitri x Reader, Claude x Reader, Edelgard x Reader, Yuri x Reader, Edelgard x Byleth, lots of minor pairings

Tags: #gn reader, # platonic love byleth & reader, #reader is a tactical unit, #angst, #slow burn, #subplots, #unreliable narrator, #pining, #remporary amnesia, #reluctant herp, #canon divergence, #lost twin au, #many chapters, #original content

Words: 5.1k

Summary: Waking up in a forest without any knowledge of your past and who you are, you join the house leaders of the Officers Academy to search for a way to return your memories. Unfortunately, the church has different plans for you, and Fate places you in the centre of a cruel game with deadly stakes. It certainly doesn’t help to fall in love with a house leader who is doomed to be your demise.

Notes: Chapter 5 | Chapter 7

Chapter 06: From The Beyond

Ah! It is well for the unfortunate to be resigned, but for the guilty there is no peace.

[Mary B. Shelley, Frankenstein]

    Thinking back on it later, the events during Garland Moon were probably what set the hare running toward its demise. Not that any of you could have known that. Not the students who joyfully spend their days in cherished halls where daylight passes through coloured glass; not Byleth with her gift to correct past mistakes with a flick of her wrist and change the course of time; not you with your foresight to see what dangers await in the future and prepare a different path for those you care for to walk safely.

    Thinking back on it later, everything that followed surely ascribed to and served Fate, and not even Sylvain could charm her with his silver tongue and golden wit, for Fate’s lover is Time and she does not look kindly upon those who enslave him.

    Maybe that is why things turned out the way they did for Byleth and you.

    But that future is still far away and every single one of you still believes the goddess has Fate tightly leashed to her side, her benevolence endless and spreading to every corner in Fódlan.

    That is why you don’t think too much about it when one day, Seteth disturbs your seminar, a deep frown settled in his features as you explain how to turn an ambush to your advantage to the students.

    “Apologies for the disturbance, Herald. Lady Rhea asks to see Ashe.”

    The boy gives a pitiful squeal but is up on his feet nonetheless. “Me? Why?”

    “You will see. Please come.” Seteth holds the classroom’s door open.

    You nod, a little worried about the frightened glance Ashe sends your way like he hopes you can actually say no and decline Rhea’s command. An encouraging smile is everything you can give him on his way before the door shuts behind him. Its sound wakes everyone else from their slumber and it takes a few minutes to reclaim order and their attention. It certainly does help that the Blue Lion House isn’t as chaotic as a certain other, not to name any names.

    Said house proves again to be more difficult to teach. Or tame. You didn’t have the courage to ask why they thought it was a good idea to see whose shoe would leave the darkest stain on Claude’s bedroom’s ceiling. Even days after their mischief students kept talking about how they have never seen Seteth this furious.

    “Herald, please,” Hilda cries, tragically draped over the back of her chair, a maiden in bittersweet agony over her loss of free time. “It was all Claude’s fault.”

    “Liars never prosper,” Claude calls from the far back of the room. He’s hunched over his papers, working vigorously on Seteth’s punishment. He ordered them to write hundred times I shall not throw footwear against any ceiling in the monastery. They’ve been at it for about twenty minutes and Claude’s quill hasn’t stopped its furious scratching against parchment at all.

    “I won’t mess with Seteth,” you tell them and lean dangerously far back on your chair to place your feet on the teacher’s desk. “And you deserve it. Or do they not teach you proper manners in your noble homes?”

    “Well, it’s not like anyone taught us not to do it,” Hilda chirps. You throw a glare her way and she quickly dugs her head and continues writing. Quills scratch on paper for about seven seconds before Hilda stops again.

    “Herald,” she says. “What do you think about Lady Catherine’s Thunderbrand?”

    You look up from your book titled Noticeable War Generals. Smile gone from her face, Hilda looks up at you with sharp curiosity. It’s eerily silent now, and a quick glance towards Claude shows he is listening as well.

    Catherine’s Thunderbrand. Its sight is still burned into the back of your closed eyes: Golden ivory forged into a grotesque sword, a blood red Crest Stone in its middle that seemed to pulsate—as if it breathed. As if it was a living thing with a heart. You had simply stared at it in awe and thought What a mesmerising weapon.

    “It’s … fascinating,” you manage. “A Hero’s Relic. There are more than just Thunderbrand, right?”

    “Ten exist,” Claude calls from the back. “Bestowed by the goddess upon ten heroes, they are passed down to their descendants. House Riegan and House Goneril have one in their possession as well.”

    “Then why don’t you use it?” You certainly wouldn’t miss a chance to own and wield a mighty weapon like that.

    “Wield that?”Hilda shudders in disgust. “No thank you. It looks so weird, pulsating and moving like an insect.”

    “And we’re way too inexperienced to use it in a real battle.” Claude puts his quill between his nose and upper lip and tries to hold it there. “They’re locked away anyway and hidden from those who might misuse their power.”

    Claude has a point. Nonetheless, you’d gladly take a look at them. Maybe even hold one … Did the Herald own one as well? A special weapon only forged for the Herald. A slight shudder runs down your spine at the thought of using it in battle.

    Ten minutes later, Claude jumps to his feet. He hurries towards you, slams his parchments on the table and leaves just as fast. “Bye Herald!”

    “No way!” Hilda pales. “How is he so fast?”

    You wonder as well and take a look at his papers. Instead of writing what Seteth has told them, Claude simply left poor drawings of their crime and promised with one sentence he wouldn’t do it again.

    And we of House Riegan never break our promises, reads the last line.

    You groan. Now it’s your turn to think about a good explanation to Seteth’s questions why you haven’t paid more attention.

    Month three passed within the blink of an eye. Garland Moon brought the sweet smell of white roses to Garreg Mach, a tradition much anticipated by the students. Everywhere you went, garlands and gifts made of white roses were given to each other as a sign of friendship or budding love. Some found their way to your desk, though your admirers preferred to stay anonymous whereas Byleth was busy to stow them somewhere—not a day passed without her receiving something or a group of giggling students following her around.

    “I really don’t know what to do with all those flowers,” she told you one day during a tea session, a deep frown on her face. “They wilt. Then I throw them away. It’s a waste.”

    “Your students love it,” you replied but were glad not to be in her place.

    Another good deed Garland Moon brought with it is longer days and shorter nights. Students lounged outside in their summer uniforms after class, enjoying those last warm days before raining season arrived with fierce gusts and heavy pouring, forcing them back inside where they spent their free time inside the library or the dining hall, playing little games to kill time.

    For a change of pace, Byleth and Jeralt decided they’d hold a grilled fish dinner on every last day of each week and most of the invited either didn’t have the heart or the courage to tell them once every week was once every week too much.

    Everything happened too fast after that. Rhea informed the teacher’s faculty and her Knights of Lord Lonato Gaspard’s planned rebellion against the church. With that, the mystery of why Seteth had demanded to speak with Ashe was solved; it also explained why he spent so much time inside the chapel, praying and wondering himself about his adoptive father’s reasoning.

    “There is no question about it,” Rhea says in her cool, demanding voice once every teacher and Knight of Seiros gathered inside the War Room to discuss the matter. “We will send a troop to meet them halfway in Kingdom Territory. They will pay for mocking our goddess.”

    “Allow me to lead the Knights, Lady Rhea,” Catherine says. Even now, you can’t take your eyes off Thunderbrand strapped on her back. “I know Gaspard and what he’s capable of.”

    “We did not forget what you’ve done back when—” Seteth starts. Catherine silences him with one look, leaving no doubt she doesn’t wish to speak of it.

    “And that is exactly why I have to go.”

    Rhea nodded. “So be it. I know I leave this mission in your capable hands.”

    “But why is he leading this rebellion?” you wonder. “I thought the Kingdom is strongly devoted to Seiros’ teachings.”

    “Every flock has its black sheep,” Rhea says, sounding sad. “We will get our answers once we defeat and capture them.”

    “What about the surrounding villages and those who support Gaspard’s rebellion but don’t fight?” Byleth asked. Until now, you haven’t really thought of those not directly involved in it, but she does make a good point.

    Rhea squared her shoulders. “What about them?”

    “They’re not directly involved but might try to get in our way.” Byleth glanced at the strategic map laid out before her. There is a way through the forest for your units to approach Lonato’s stronghold. Surrounding villages are marked with a red pin. They surround the forest in a loose circle, making an intrusion possible, though sending Knights of Seiros out to watch them and stop them could be quite easy—

    “Everyone who supports this foolish rebellion should receive the rightful punishment,” Rhea says, her voice so cold it freezes your thoughts of how to make the villagers stay out of this. Your head snaps up as you stare at her. Byleth raises an eyebrow but remains silent just like everyone else. Something about that makes you shudder.

    “But they’re civilians, right? If we can avoid having them interfere—”

    “By joining Lonato Gaspard’s rebellion they pledge guilty to his cause.” Rhea looks up at you, scorn flashing briefly in her eyes. “I will not have them simply go if it opens the possibility for revenge one day.”

    If you squinted really hard, there was reason behind her words. Still, your stomach turned at the thought of endangering civilians even though it could be prevented. Without any protests, that was the plan for the operation.

    You sat this one out. There was much to prepare for the upcoming Rite of Rebirth, a ceremony when the Church of Seiros and its believers unite to pray for the return of the goddess. Even though you wouldn’t call yourself a believer—many find it strange that you remember the way of war but not the way of the Church as if you lived somewhere without Seiros’ teachings—your presence was of outmost importance as well. Though after you heard how the mission went, you really wished you had joined the Blue Lions fighting against Gaspard instead of sitting around and deciding which ceremonial robes fit better.

    Loud voices drift through the closed door of a classroom, voices you immediately recognise belonging to Dimitri and Byleth.

    “Are you insane?” You flinch back even though a heavy wooden door separates you from what is undoubtedly Dimitri’s wrath. “Those were civilians.”

    A reply is lost, too quiet for you to hear, but whatever Byleth said, it wasn’t the right thing. A second later, Dimitri storms through the doors. The distress in his features stops you from asking what is wrong, a flash of betrayal lurking in his eyes seals your mouth shut. You look after him until he disappears around the corner, only slowly turning towards Byleth. She is propping herself up on the table, learning on her strong arms and staring at the opposite wall, her mouth a grim line—solid rock that stands against the raging waves summoned by Dimitri, her grip on the edge of the table hard enough to turn her knuckles white.

    “Everything okay?” An unnecessary question answered by a simple shake of her head. You lean your hips against the table. “Do you want to talk about it?”

    Byleth is silent. Only slowly, like a tight knot finally coming lose, the tension in her shoulders dissipates and she takes a long, deep breath.

    “Dimitri told me about their mission. How they dealt with Lord Lonato’s revolt.” She finally steps away from the table and kneads the muscles in her shoulders. You imagine they’re hard like a rock. “They faced simple peasants who defended their Lord. Peasants who didn’t even know how to wield a sword without cutting their own thumbs off.”

    “And Rhea made quite clear how to deal with them,” you finish, summoning unwanted imaginations about a gruesome butchery in your mind. Byleth nods.

    “Dimitri asked for my advice,” she continues, her gaze drifting towards the door as if said young man might return like a bad haunting if his name is simply muttered. “If there was anything they could have done different. I told him there wasn’t.” She tears her eyes away from the door and fixes them on you. “I told him that is the way of war.”

    She is right, a part of you insists. Such facts cannot be changed and claiming anything different is foolish, naive. Yet, something stirs, a tiny tiny voice, a feeling, that challenges that thought. A feeling you didn’t expect to be part of you.

    “I don’t know about the details,” you say, shuffling from left to right, “but maybe it was avoidable. Lord Lonato must have known how his subjects felt about it. He didn’t need to involve them.”

    “I think they joined on their own. The students gave them a chance to lay down their weapons.”

    “Still—”

    “Still they decided to follow their foolish Lord,” a voice from the door joins, cold and imperious, chilling you to the bone. Rhea enters the War Room, her expression void of any warmth or kindness. “There is no place for doubt. We must punish any sinner who may inflict harm upon believers, even if those sinners are civilians.”

    “And you think to have the students punish them is right?” Byleth asks, earning a sharp glare from Rhea. She quickly, but somewhat begrudgingly adds, “Your Grace.”

    “I have heard that some students struggled with completing the task,” Rhea acknowledges, doing her best to show how unaffected she is by Byleth’s criticism. “I pray they learnt a valuable lesson about the fate that awaits all who are foolish enough to point their blades towards the heavens.”

    An icy shudder crawls up your spine, cold fingers tighten around your throat to keep you silent—a leash forged of obedience and intimidation, the mistress standing before you. It would be wise to keep your mouth shut, not draw unnecessary attention; keep your head low and nothing can slice it from your shoulders. But the words, burning hot on your tongue, demand freedom.

    “Fearing the Church isn’t the same as respecting it.”

    Something sharp flashes in Rhea’s eyes. “If fear is the only way to control them, then so be it. They are traitors to the holy teachings.”

    “They are people. People with families.”

    “People who would be wise to remember it was the progenitor god who gave them these lands and their life,” Rhea answers, growing impatient. She notices something in the way you look at her, for she takes a moment to collect herself by taking a deep breath. “I do not enjoy seeing those who wronged our holy teachings punished, Herald,” she continues, now much calmer. “But punish them we must before they hurt those who are dear to us.” Upon her last words, her eyes dart to Byleth, looking at her with so much fondness and care, a sting of jealousy in your chest forces you to avert your gaze to the ground. It isn’t the first time you notice Rhea’s palpable interest in Byleth’s wellbeing though no answer comes to mind why it is like that. If Byleth noticed the same, she doesn’t show it.

    After that, the incident is quickly forgotten, making room for the new incident occupying everyone’s mind: an assassination plot on Rhea on the day of the Rite of Rebirth found in Lonato’s possession. You aren’t the only one wondering why he’d carry something like that around where it’s easy to find. Multiple theories go around, one more farfetched than the other. One particular makes sense, its source none other than sharp witted Claude who thinks this plot is a simple distraction for something much bigger.

    “If security is focused on the Rite of Rebirth inside the Goddess’ Tower, pretty much anyone can simply stroll around the monastery and do who knows what,” he told you on the day Byleth and her class set out to discover what important places might become a target. Garreg Mach hides many secrets and treasures. Some of them even you are not allowed to see like relics passed down from archbishop to archbishop, guarded by the elite of the Knights of Seiros, tall and bulky men and women with grim mouths and determined eyes rooting them in place day and night in front of locked doors only Rhea knows what they hide.

    With every passing day, tension hangs in the air like a thick blanket waiting to smother you all. But it isn’t simply the anticipation for whatever the Western Church has planned. It is also the holy ceremony of the Rite of Rebirth, one you’ve practised under the stern eyes of Seteth who doesn’t settle for anything less than perfect. Every word, every step is engraved in your mind.

    On the day of the Rite of Rebirth the sun relentlessly blazes down at the monastery. Your ceremonial robes are heavy and woven from thick jacquard fabric lined with fine golden patterns that depict the Herald’s Crest on the back. You’ve barely finished preparing everything inside the round chamber inside the Goddess’ Tower but perspiration glues your hair to your forehead.

    A whole feast is prepared; food offerings and gifts from the townsfolk and priests served on golden and silver plates on long tables covered with white table clothes. In the middle Seteth prepared a small platform for Rhea to stand and speak in honour of the goddess that she may return to Fódlan and show its people her infinite grace. In short, you’d do anything to join the students who are securing the locations lacking in defence right now instead of standing around and waving at pilgrims. The only joy lies in Flayn’s bright presence and her never ending optimism. She’s a sweet girl and has been looking forward to the ceremony since the beginning of Blue Sea Moon. Looking upon her, it is hard not to catch her excitement and joy when the ceremony finally begins.

    Because of certain circumstances you couldn’t quite follow, the holy relic used for the ceremony, the Chalice of Beginnings, has been missing for a long time. Because of that, a mock chalice was prepared by the cardinals, a handful of high authority men and women who make it no secret they can’t quite decide if they like or dislike you and your position.

    “You must excuse them,” one of the cardinals says after a group of them simply shook their heads at you happily scooping tons of food on a plate. His dark hair falls to his shoulders and unlike the other cardinals, his brown eyes are filled with kindness. “They simply think in old patterns and value their old traditions. You are quite young, Herald. They don’t know how to handle that.”

    “But you do?” you wonder and notice too late how unfriendly that sounds. But he simply laughs.

    “I do frequent with young folk, yes,” he says. “They are my flock and I will do anything to protect them.”

    “That again, Aelfric?” Catherine joins you and slaps his shoulder just when he was about to drink from his cup. You pretend the pastries on your plate are far more interesting than watching him choke on wine. “You’re way too good for them, you know?”

    “Who is ‘them?’” you ask but Catherine just sways her hand as if he wants to get rid of a nasty fly.

    “Unimportant. You did a good job carrying the chalice to the podium.”

    “I did almost trip over these.” You pluck at the heavy robes, already looking forward to getting out of them.

    Catherine laughs but it is short lived. Out of nowhere, a knight hurriedly approaches and leans over to her, muttering, “They are after the tomb of Saint Seiros.”

    Glass shatters as her grip tightens around the fragile stem but without so much as noticing it she storms towards Rhea, fury blazing in her eyes. Something happened. Something far more exciting than playing a believer in front of everyone, so you follow her to listen in more.

    “Those dastards from the Western Church infiltrated the Holy Mausoleum,” she says. Rhea pales. “I will take some knights and go there at once.”

    “Go and be swift, Catherine.” Rhea’s words are barely a puff of breath, those news shaking her but she remains stoic in front of everyone to prevent panic. Her voice drops dangerously low. “Punish those heathens.”

    Catherine’s head dips in a slight bow. “I will, Your Grace.”

    “I want to help too.”

    Both turn around at your voice. Catherine narrows her eyes to sharp slits, but it is Rhea who says, “No. I need you here for the ceremony, Herald.”

    “Please, let me,” you beg. Something inside you demands to follow, demands to see what is inside the Holy Mausoleum that causes so much bloodshed. “I can’t explain, but I need to be there.”

    Rhea presses her lips into a thin line. Before she reopens her mouth to decline your wish, you whirl around and leave the ceremony room, Catherine in hot pursuit. You manage halfway down the hallway before she reaches you and grabs your arm hard.

    “Even though you are the Herald, I won’t allow you to show this disrespect towards Her Grace,” she snarls. “If she tells you to stay, you listen.”

    “I don’t expect you to understand,” you say, trying to free your arm from her bone breaking grip. “But something calls me to this place and I need to follow it.”

    Catherine isn’t pleased but she knows better than do you any real harm. With a crude nod, she allows you to follow. Several knights wait for you and together you make your way through the warm evening air towards the Holy Mausoleum that lies behind the chapel.

    You enter right before chaos erupts. At the end of the hall, its ceiling so high up it’s barely visible in the dark, Byleth stands tall and rises a sword that flashes in a bright red light. A throb goes through your body and brings you to your knees. It feels like an arrow drove into your chest, the stinging pain unlike anything you’ve felt before—no, it’s a pain you haven’t felt since the Crest appeared on your eye for the first time. And then that thrumming energy within you exploded, a sharp crimson that drenched every corner of your right vision, rushing through your veins.

    “Kill them!” an enemy mage commands, fury fuelling him to a last desperate attack. With his remaining companions, they summon a giant fire spell you’ve only read about in books, a combination of spells into a group flame that covers a large area—the pre-stage to a much more fatal blaze that can scorch the land. Blaze or no, the effect watching the giant fire ball curling and sparking until it grows large enough to wipe out anything in its way is the same. Fear paralyses your body. Move, your mind screams, but you can’t. Your muscles have locked up; a high whine of terror fills your head and fizzes in your blood like poison, yet you do not understand where this fear of fire comes from.

    “Take cover!” Catherine roars but it is too late. The blast hits the ground right before you, dispersing your small group of reinforcements like wind scattering leaves in all directions. A loud crack beneath you makes your heart skip a beat, a rumble shakes the hall and before you can fully comprehend what is happening, the ground gives way.

    The last thing you hear is Byleth shouting, not Herald, but your name before you plunge into darkness.

    Wake up.

    You have to wake up.

    This darkness is terrifying, so utterly black and choking, curling around you like a tight fist. Like someone is holding you in their dirty, tainted clutches, smelling of death and horror. Wake up, you tell yourself, more urgent now, your mind struggling to escape from claws digging into your consciousness, their goal unknown but you don’t want to stay here to find out what they are after. What they want to take from you.

    Wake up, this time another voice, the voice, echoing like a sweet bell’s chime, the flicker of light in a darkness so black it hums. You have to wake up.

    Your eyes snap open, the sudden white ceiling hurting like a sudden flash of light. Once you’re used to the brightness, you realise this isn’t a room, this is … this is your consciousness—no walls, no windows. It’s just a space, and yet you can clearly determine borders. Somewhere is an exit you’re free to use, nothing holds you captive. It’s your safe place. Your haven. Which doesn’t explain how you’ve gotten here.

    All you know is it feels safe. It feels like a warm embrace, the feeling of hope, watching a budding flower embraced by soft, fragile hands—asteritrope, your mind provides out of nowhere, the flower always turning its head towards the Blue Star.

    It is like breaking a spell. First, everything is simply white, empty, a second later, you stand in a vast field of asteritropes, an ocean of purple, gently swaying flowers at your feet. Everything smells of sweet innocence, of honey dipped fingers and bittersweet regret. It is a familiar scent, one your body remembers and reacts to with a shudder so strong it rattles deep in your bones; a chill so cold it freezes you on the spot, the slightest movement threatening to shatter you entirely.

    What is this grief, this sadness? Is it your own or have you fallen into a sea of tears wept by someone else? Your chest is heavy with a burden, a pulling towards the unknown that is yet so familiar. It is homesickness towards a place you have never been but long to visit.

    The flowers shaped like little stars stretch beyond what you think are the edges of this place. If this is a dream, you don’t want to wake up anytime soon, relishing in this peace and quiet.

    A peace and quiet that lasts only a moment until you notice it. Not it, him. In the middle of the field, a boy sits, bent over something that demands his complete attention. Dark curls fall against pale skin, his brows pulled tightly together as his fingers work something in his lap. He is wearing a simple white robe, though it is unlike any of the religious wear you've seen on the priests and nuns; it seem ... too old for that. Only after you approach, you see he is folding purple flowers and green steams into a crown.

    “Hello?” you say, only now entertaining the idea you might have died and this is the afterlife, the first point before returning to the goddess’ side. It is a strangely tranquil thought. “Can you hear me?”

    The boy’s head snaps up, his eyes wide as he momentarily forgets his work, and you take a step back, struck by how bright his steel grey eyes are. They roam over you, up and down, back up again, as he slowly raises to his feet.

    “You’re here,” he says, awestruck. “You’re finally here. It is so nice to meet you after all this time.”

    His voice is like a punch to your gut. You recognise it immediately, the voice who pulled you back from the darkness.

    “You—” Nothing makes sense. “Who are you? What are you?”

    “There is nothing to fear,” he says, offering you his hand. The tips of his fingers are purple from handling delicate petals. The crown lies at his bare feet, forgotten. He looks strangely vulnerable.

    You take another step back, worry a steady, hard pulse against your neck. The air catches in your lungs. You feel like the ground is opening beneath your feet. “Are you … the goddess? A god?”

    The boy blinks, then throws his head back and bursts out laughing, the sound like sweet bells chiming in the wind. “You people love to call everything you do not understand god.”

    “Then what are you?” It comes out as a breath, and for a brief second you think it’s fear that seizes your body, but no. You should be afraid and yet instead of frenzy panic there is a calm spreading inside you as if you belong here. You can’t say if it’s the boy’s presence or the familiar scent of wildflowers.

    The boy leans his head to the side, his smile as vibrant as early sunlight casting away leftover shadows from a dark night. “Hmmm … the End, perhaps? Or why not just … a friend?”

    “The end? My end?”

    “No, the end is never simply the end,” he says, shaking his head.

    “Is that supposed to reassure me?”

    “It may be a rebirth,” he continues. “Or the passing into a new era. Into a new dawn.”

    “A new dawn,” you mumble. The realisation makes your knees weak. “Don’t tell me—” You suck in a sharp breath, unable to belief where your thoughts are hurling towards in lightning speed. You kneel onto the soft flowerbed, careful not to crush any flowers. “Why are we here … do you know me by chance?”

    “I … cannot say for sure,” he starts slowly, uncertainty turning his features even younger. “I have been watching you since you awoke four moons ago. On that day, I as well awoke from a deep slumber. But I do not know why it is you that I am bound to.”

    “Bound to?” Your head spins. “What do you mean?”

    “You must have felt it by now, have you not? I am here because of this,” he says, and lifts his hand to point at your right eye. You flinch back as if he smacked you right across your face.

    “So you are him,” you whisper, a shudder ripping through your body. “You’re the first Herald. You are Seiros’ Champion.”

    The boy smiles.

[iheartgracie]

central park pact trio quotes

“Ladies, I know we just met, but let’s face it, we have the same shoes and we were screwed over by the same guy, so as far as I’m concerned, we leapfrogged a few steps in the female-bonding process.”

“Perfect, I’ll invite you over for a slumber party,” Claire said, starting to stand.”

“Naomi extended her right hand. “Hands in, girls, we’re making a pact, high school–style. May neither of you ever fall victim to a cheating bastard again. Not on my watch.”

“And to helping each other find the right man. That’s on my watch,” Audrey said, placing her palm on top of Naomi’s hand.

After a moment of hesitation, Claire set her hand atop Audrey’s. “Oh, what the hell. I’m in. To no more assholes.”

“Naomi extended her hand. “Hands in, girls, we’re making a pact, high school–style. May neither of you ever fall victim to a cheating bastard again. Not on my watch.”

“And Naomi was suddenly certain that this moment with Claire Hayes and Audrey Tate was somehow going to change everything.”

“Naomi, Claire, and Audrey might not have known of one another’s existence until the day of Brayden’s funeral, but they’d made up for lost time with frequent brunches and wine nights. Naomi liked to imagine that knowing the three women he’d betrayed had bonded was torturing Brayden Hayes from his frontrow seat in hell.”

“Audrey smiled. “No, it’s our mistake. Claire and I thought it would be fun to surprise—”

“You thought,” Claire muttered. “I thought we should call first.”

Audrey waved this aside. “Champagne needs no appointment. We thought some bubbly might make packing go a little easier.”

“And cupcakes,” Claire said, holding up the box. “I was going to make muffins, but Audrey made me buy cupcakes.”

“Noooo, I made you buy muffins with frosting on them,” Audrey argued.”

“Luckily, Audrey was better at it. She took Claire’s hands in hers. “What can we do?”

Claire sighed, then looked up. “Pour me some of that champagne?”

Naomi smiled, relieved to be of use. “On it.”

“The actual minute’s not important right now,” Naomi insisted. “It’s about the moment.”

Audrey nodded. “Absolutely. It marks phase two of our fresh start.”

“What was phase one?” Claire asked with a smile.

“Us figuring out if we could be friends,” Audrey said as though this were obvious.”

“But in the past couple of months, Naomi had realized that as different as the three of them were, they had something in common other than having slept with Brayden. They were strong. Resilient. Most important of all, they liked one another. Naomi had never made much time for female friends. Sure, she counted Deena as a friend. She was close with a bunch of her senior team. But for Naomi, work had always come first. Above romance, and above friendship. But these women gave her hope . . . gave her the sense that maybe she could be something more than a girl boss and ballbuster.”

“Oh my goodness. Is that the time? Audrey, we’ve got to go if we’re going to make that movie.”

“Really?” Naomi said, her tone making it clear what she thought of her friends’ flimsy excuse to get out of the apartment. “What movie?”

Claire and Audrey named two different movies at the exact same time, and Naomi rolled her eyes. ”

“And you both all but shoved Dylan in a cab so that Oliver would have to walk me home.”

“We didn’t want Dylan to be late to the airport,” Claire said innocently.

Audrey nodded in solemn agreement. “His job is very important. Super demanding. Did he not tell you once or a thousand times?”

“Audrey

Still hate you. What are we talking, Pilates fanatic?

Naomi

Running nut.

Audrey

Hate you more.

Claire

A runner? Friendship officially canceled.”

“Naomi

Did I make a mistake picking Dylan?

Their replies were immediate.

Audrey

Yup.

Claire

Definitely”

“And so, as strangers who’d barely known the man began filing out of the church, murmuring plans of mimosas and imminent returns to Hamptons vacation homes, these three women who knew him better than anyone were making a very different sort of plan altogether.

The wife.

The girlfriend.

The mistress.

They had a pact. To never, ever let one another fall for a womanizer like Brayden Hayes again.”

“But there were two people who got it. Two friends who understood her in a way Claire’s old social set never could. In fact, Naomi Powell and Audrey Tate had been the only people with whom Claire would have considered ringing in thirty-five.

They’d have been here in a heartbeat, and her husband’s girlfriend and mistress, more than anyone, would have understood the melancholy tone of this particular “celebration.”

“Ironically, it had been that day, in that spot, as she’d sat both hating and missing Brayden, that she’d met Audrey and Naomi. It had been there that the three women had made a pact not to fall for another man like Brayden.”

“Audrey and Naomi felt more like sisters than friends, and had from the very beginning.”

“He sighed. “Give it a little time. It’s been two days.”

She huffed and stood, clearly not liking his response.

“Where are you going?” He called after her.

“You’re useless. It’s time to bring in my wingwomen.”

“The Instagram model, the jewelry queen, and the calligraphy ninja,” he said. “You ladies make a hell of a trio.”

“Okay, crucial difference,” Audrey pointed out. “Clarke’s not my guy.”

“Sorry, but who bought you that Tiffany ring?”

“And who’s been your other half since, what, age seven?” Claire added.”

“It may have been their simmering resentment and borderline hate for Brayden that had brought Naomi, Claire, and Audrey together, but it wasn’t what had kept them together.

It had been love. Love had kept them together. Not love for Brayden, but for one another, three women who’d become like sisters.”