#for details or even re-arranging the order they happen in

[tathrin]

I want you to know that every time you reblog a fic I wrote, I am squealing with joy.

I love your writing so much, it's a huge inspiration for me, and seeing someone like you (who literally posted fanfics on ao3 before I was even born) say how much you love my stuff is the best thing ever. Thank you so much.

(Also can't wait for the next chapter of the zombie fic)

Oh my gods I'm melting right now. Absolutely melting.

I've gone away and come back to this message like seven times without being able to respond because I'm too swamped with warm fuzzy happy feelings to be coherent, thank you so much.

I've been enjoying your writing so much, I'm so delighted and overjoyed and genuinely just tickled pink to use that silly phrase because I truly can't think of anything that sums-up my feeling better to hear you say I've helped inspire you.

Thank you. And you're so welcome.

(Also oh my gods I'm laughing so hard I'm so fucking old lmao.)

[sunnami]

❝time will tell.❞

[credits to the original artist of the photo!! can't seem to find their @ anywhere. title is taken from jane austen's persuasion, as was the first part.]

summary. ❝you are loved. and harry thinks there is no better description that that.❞

pairing/s. poly!mauraders + lily x reader.

word count. 9.5k.

tags. reader is referred to mum, with she/her pronouns[!], canon-typical violence [!], canon-typical deaths mentioned[!], very brief marauders as soldiers of the order[!], creepy old men being creepy[!], child abuse[!], pureblood arranged marriages, a minor character expresses wanting to die[!], Depressed and Traumatized Slytherins, the capital is important[!], themes of misogyny [!], teen boys fuck around and find out there are consequences to their actions, THERE IS ACTUALLY A LOT OF FLUFF, I PROMISE YOU, angst, children lose their baby teeth up until the age of twelve!! google said so!! not proofread we die like dobby the free elf

note. damn, i cried, you cried, we all crode. tbh, the first part was only intended as a oneshot, sdfkhdf, but when i re-read it, i thought that i could have expanded on more details,, so now here we are!! i love it more than the first part ueueue. thank you all so so so much for the kind comments :((( please please enjoy the second part to this installment!! part one

HARRY JAMES POTTER was only a few months old when you died at the hands of Voldemort — or as strangers have told him every time they ravaged his personal space and ogled at his scar. They said it was a quick death, better than what had happened to Alice and Frank Longbottom. But that was all they’ve ever said about your death. Unfortunate; caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, entirely different from the pedestal James and Lily have been put on by the wizarding society. 

At first, Harry had wondered if it was due to your blood relations, being the daughter of a renowned Death-Eater, heiress to the fortune of a pureblood House. Harry can’t even count the amount of conspiracy theories he’s read or heard to his face that it must have been you who betrayed James and Lily, and not Sirius Black. 

Even Hermione’s shared to him a theory that your death was faked to surrender your loyalty completely to Voldemort — of course, Hermione was eleven at the time, head full of books and her favorite theories, and Harry’s already forgiven her. But there’s a part of him that despises the way he’s never known the full truth about his parents, just bits of information dangled in front of him like bait for people [read: the Dursleys] to get him to do what they want, to act like the way they want. Until Remus and Sirius, you were a stranger to him, really.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

IT IS RATHER UNFORTUNATE that Madam Pince has already taken her position as the unbearable librarian at this point in time. The woman gives Harry and you a pointed look as you slam the large book onto one of the tables — to Harry’s surprise, you glare right back at her. You’re awfully flushed, however, blushing cheeks betraying the fire in your eyes; it must have been from when Remus escorted the two of you to the library; he had tried to brush your hand with his pinky, to which you had responded with a startled hiss — Remus only smiled and chuckled at you, and Harry swears he’d like to forget that entire interaction because he saw literal stars in Remus’s eyes.

Jumping back in time and potentially causing chaos? Fun. 

Meeting your parents? Definitely fun, in the strangest of ways. 

But watching them pine and fall for each other? Not so fun. 

Nonetheless, he hesitantly takes the seat across yours and watches you flip through the pages until you land on a chapter with the large, bold letters: THE CURIOUS CASE OF ELOISE MINTUMBLE — Time-Travel and Its Many Dangers. He meets your gaze with a sheepish grin, mustering a look of innocence; except the puppy dog eyes only worked when he was nine — you are not amused. 

You slide the book towards him, scarily resembling Molly Weasley when she’s miffed with the twins. “You are aware, right, that just by existing here you’ve changed the future? Your future? And, that’s not even the worst thing that could happen.” 

Harry sulks. “Yes, mum.” He prefers not to think about it, actually, it makes his head hurt. 

“Don’t call me that in public!” You whisper heatedly, looking over your shoulder to check if anyone had heard him — to your luck, the library was empty, save for a Hufflepuff that was passed out on top of his books. “The less people that know about this, the better. It’s bad enough we told Potter about you. Do you even know what you’re going to do?” 

“Considering I was thrown here against my will, no.” Harry shrugs. “And to be honest, I was just going to obliviate the people who asked too many questions.”

You reach over to smack his head, scowling.

“Ow! That hurt!” Harry rubs the sore spot as he grumbles petulantly. “This is technically child abuse, did you know that?” 

You roll your eyes. “Do you at least have a plan to get home?” 

“Of course I do,” Harry retorts with a scoff, “Her name is Hermione Granger.” 

“Hopeless.” You groan exasperatedly. “Absolutely hopeless.” 

Harry only grins in response. For a brief moment, he forgets about the present — his reality where the skies are bleak and home is where he knows the feeling of loss more than the warmth of his own parents’ embrace. He lets himself forget, and pretends he isn’t the Boy Who Lived. Just some random boy who’s pestering his mother — even if she likes to deny the inevitability of being romanced by the Marauders, (except for Wormtail because Harry would eat troll slime before he ever lets that happen.)

“Right then,” You say after your tangent — which Harry tuned out when he hears the words, be responsible. “If I’m going to help you get back home—” 

Harry’s heart drops to his stomach; as selfishly as it sounds, he didn’t want to go home just yet — not to where people just took and took from him. He’s exhausted. Still, he puts up a front of being excited to be returned to his timeline. It’s for the greater good, of course, because his existence — present or past — is always somehow a threat to the wizarding society. 

“—you need to answer this one question for me.” Your voice drops lower as you stare at him intently, lips pressed firmly. 

Harry nods slowly. “As long as it’s within reason, yeah.” 

You inhale sharply. “Do I outlive Dolores Umbridge?” 

The wince escapes Harry before he can even stop it. 

That’s all the answer you need, apparently. Your mouth hangs open in disbelief, eyes nearly bulging out of your head as you slam your hands down onto the table surface, shrieking.

“That slimy bitch!” 

Needless to say, the two of you are kicked out of the library.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1970; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

YOU ARE ELEVEN when your father introduces you to Ferguson, commonly known as Fergus, Bulstrode. He smiles at you with a leer, eyes hungrily dipping to the neckline of your dress. You grit your teeth as you hold out your hand for him to take — you almost shudder at the feel of his lips on your cheek. You eagerly take a step back away from him, hoping your father won’t notice the way you shy from Ferguson’s touch. You’re not dull, you fully understand the implications of this introduction and the way Ferguson is complaining to you about his third wife’s passing — as if you were the solution to his loneliness. Bile rises to your throat, and you shove it down with a forced laugh at your father’s jokes about Mudbloods. From across the room, Allegra Greengrass stares at you in sympathy, and you send her a glare — you do not need anyone’s pity. 

The corset your mother laced on too tight is suffocating you; this whole Yule extravaganza made for elitist purebloods is suffocating you; and yet, you smile and greet every red-lipped witch your mother introduces you to. For hours, you pretend, and you pretend. By the time the guests have left, you wonder if you have any more of yourself to give. 

You manage to convince your mother to let you slip away for the night. Without missing a beat, you rush outside and into the garden labyrinth, lest old Ferguson snatches you up for a dance and let his gaze wander elsewhere. For the first time since the sun had set, your aching feet finally find some relief. You drop onto the edge of the stone fountain as you toss your heels to the side. You begin working your fingers through your hair, ripping the glittery ribbons from your head. It’s not until you’re unclasping your necklace that you realize you are crying. Tears fall from your eyes, and they sink deep into the fabric of your dress. 

You barely hold back your sobs. Your chest heaves as you hiccup; your vision goes blurry as your fingers grow numb. There’s nothing you can do but cry. 

You’ve used up all your smiles for tonight. 

But then, the sadness turns into resentment and then turns into indignation. Harshly, you wipe the tears from your eyes as you rip a violent scream from your throat. 

You sink to the ground, perfectly polished nails digging into the soil as you gather patches of grass and tear them from the roots. You throw a handful of mud at the marble statues. You grab another fistful of mud, scream, then bash your head against the garden floor. You let out another cry, whimpering as you curl into yourself; shivering as a gust of wind brushes against your skin. Surprisingly enough, this is the most human you’ve ever felt. This is the most you have ever felt — period. 

When hiccups regress into soft sniffles, you lay on your back, watching the stars float above. As the last of your tears slide down your cheek, you lift a shaky hand to trace the constellation in the sky. It’s not a familiar one to you, but then— 

“That’s Sirius.” 

You sit upright in a snap, wiping away the wetness from your eyes as you muster a mean glare at the newcomer.

Sirius Black.

“Oh, none of that,” He tells you when you move to stand. There’s barely any emotion on his face and it irks you that you can’t figure out what he’s planning. What you don’t expect is for him to sit beside you, thereby ruining his expensively tailored suit. 

“You’ll get creases,” You scold him instinctively, nose scrunched — but your voice is hoarse; too tired to put up any pretences. “Your mother will be cross with you.” 

Sirius scoffs, laying his head on the dirt, making sure to smear his sleeves with grass stains. “Walburga can go fall in a ditch and die for all I care.”

You gasp. “That’s horrible!” 

Sirius gives you a look. “You don’t believe that.” 

You really don’t, but you don’t have the courage to admit it either. 

After a few moments of silence, Sirius asks, raising a brow, “So who was that?”

“Who was who?” You stare at him with knitted brows, toying with your fingers. You still can’t wrap your head around how weird this is — sitting with Sirius Black in the middle of your mother’s hedge maze, your once bright blue dress now sullied at the ruffles, eyes bloodshot and your hair a frizzy mess. (Sirius thinks you look cute, though; especially with your missing front tooth that peeks out every time you talk to him.) 

“Bald guy, older than Merlin himself.” Sirius makes a face. “Looks like a troll. Smells like one, too.”

A giggle flutters past your lips, and your hands fly to your mouth. You really shouldn’t be bad-mouthing your guests, but Sirius was right — Ferguson really did act like an ugly troll. You sigh, letting your arms fall to your side. “My betrothed.” 

Sirius nods in understanding. “My mother tried to set me up with my own cousin once.” 

You grimace. “Which cousin?” 

He sits on his knees to face you, and with a very solemn face, he says, “Bellatrix.”

This time, you laugh freely, throwing your head back as Sirius pouts at your amusement. “O-Oh, that’s golden.” 

“No, it’s not,” says Sirius, lips twitching as he watches you snort like a pig through your giggles. “It’s horrible. A literal nightmare. You should feel awful for me.” He pokes your stomach, and it just makes you laugh harder, eyes disappearing into your smile. “Oi. I said feel awful, not take the piss out of me.” 

“S-Sorry.” You wheeze, batting away his hand pulling at your cheek. “I just can’t imagine Bellatrix in a white wedding dress and saying her vows to you.”

“That’s disgusting.” Sirius gags. “You’re horrible, I hope you know that.” 

When you finally calm down and Sirius tickles your bare feet until you cry in surrender, the two of you lay on the grass as he points out each constellation to you. Later, he fishes a small box of sugar mice from his pocket and offers it to you, opening one for himself. “Here’s to shitty parents and the one day we get to decide our own future.” 

You bump your squeaky candy mice against his. “Cheers, Black.” 

“Will you go to Hogwarts next year?” He asks you once he’s bitten off the tail of his mice. 

You nod. 

Sirius shifts on his side, holding his pinky out to you. “We’ll be friends when school starts?”

Again, you nod, wrapping your pinky around his. “Friends.” 

The next September comes, Sirius finds a compartment and one James Potter in it. You sit with Allegra Greengrass and Endora Lestrange on the way to Hogwarts. You are sorted into Slytherin, and Sirius finds freedom and a home in Gryffindor. You play the role created just for you; you lift your nose at those beneath you, adorn yourself in custom-made silk clothing, and carry yourself with the etiquette of a pure-blooded lady. Perfect grades, perfect hair, perfect clothes, always picture perfect.

You pretend that Allegra doesn’t throw up in the evenings from the fear of getting married to a man twice her age. You pretend that you don’t notice Endora sleep-walking and begging for her mother to save her from her father. You pretend that under your blankets, in the Slytherin dungeon, you are safe. 

You pretend that it doesn’t hurt when Sirius looks at you in disappointment when you shove a Hufflepuff student to the ground for getting a higher score than you in Charms.

They call you an ice-princess behind your back, and you overhear some of the fifth-years calling you foul words as well, and no one steps in to stop them; there’s no defending a Slytherin, after all. But you are keeping your head above treacherous waters, and you suppose that is all that matters.) 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“SO ACCORDING TO THIS, Eloise was stuck in 1402 for five days until she was retrieved to the present, which means we only have four days left to figure out a way for you to get back home.” 

Harry sinks into his chair, arms crossed over his chest. The two of you had found an empty classroom to discuss your plans away from inquisitive ears. “What’s the rush?” It’s unfair, he’d only just met you, and now he’s losing time with you. 

You sigh. “Harry, Eloise Mintumble spent five days in the past and when she came back, her body aged five centuries, and she died in St. Mungos. It’s not just about altering the whole timeline, you could actually die.” 

When you are met only with silence, you close the book, frowning. “Harry? What’s wrong?” 

Harry swallows the lump in his throat, looking out the window to avoid your gaze. “What do you know about the Mirror of Erised?” 

Your head tilts in confusion. “That it shows our heart’s deepest desire.” 

“Yeah,” says Harry, nodding. “I was eleven when I found it.” 

“Oh, Harry. . .” 

It’s almost pathetic how quickly his eyes water. “Did you know, before today, I hadn’t known at all what your voice sounded like?” 

You stay quiet, and Harry sucks in a shaky breath. 

“When I looked into the mirror, I saw my parents—all of you. There I was, in the middle. You were behind me—happy.” Harry swipes a tear from his eye. “I wanted to stay in that room, stare at that mirror forever.”

“It’s—”

“Dangerous, I know.” He laughs bitterly. “Just like finally being able to meet you all here.”

“Harry, you aren’t supposed to be here in the first place,” You say quietly, eyes drooping sadly. 

“I know that!” He exclaims desperately. “But is it so selfish to just want some time? I don’t want an illusion, I want the real thing. A real family. Why can’t I have that? Bloody Malfoy gets everything he wants, and what do I have?” 

“Your friends,” You tell him firmly. “Your friends who must be worried sick that you’re gone and must be going great lengths to bring you back.” 

“I know.” Harry wilts. He’s got Remus at home, too, who probably needs him more than ever after Sirius’s death. “I know. But can’t I just have this one thing?” 

You purse your lips for a moment, brows furrowed in thought. Then, you break the silence with: “Do you want to hear a story?”

“What?” Harry croaks, peering at you through wet lashes. 

Shrugging, you say, “Stories to remember us by. I’ve got six years worth of stories and then some. I know it’s not much, and you’ve probably heard some of these already from the others in the future, but it’s better than nothing, right?” You lean against the back of your chair, glancing at the wall clock before grinning at Harry. “We’ve got time to spare, anyway.” 

Harry manages a smile, setting down his glasses before rubbing his stinging eyes with the handkerchief you offer him. He figures this is what Remus means when you’re the gentlest creature he’s ever known — just not gentle in what the world expects you to be. 

“What do you say, Harry? I give you tidbits of the past, and you tell me if you know anything about the next Triwizard champion, so I can place my bets in advance.”  

Harry snickers. “Not a chance, mum.” 

“Worth a try.” And the smile you give him is nearly blinding. 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1977; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND what it is about Gryffindors and their hobby of invading others’ personal space. 

A year into dating and James likes to shove his head under your shirt, claiming he loves the sound of your heartbeat — but you know really what he wants to nestle his head in between. The amount of cashmere blouses he’s ruined is absurd! Sirius has a hobby of tracing runes on the plane of your stomach. Lily prefers it when you sit in front of her, just within reach where she can wrap her arms around you and rest her head on your shoulder. Remus tends to lag behind the group when he notices you walking slower due to your leg flaring up. He kisses the side of your head and promises to chase the pain away — sappy poetic that he is. And in the moments where all five of you are together, tucked under a wide alcove, you can best believe there is no escaping what they like to call, a cuddle pile. Limbs are tangled, kisses are shared, and confessions of love are whispered. 

Before them, you hadn’t really known the different ways to love and be loved. 

Onto the pressing matters at hand, you discover that the brazen show of affection extends to their parents as well. Particularly, the Potters. After a year, you finally caved into James’s requests for you to spend the holidays at their manor, since the others have already made a space for themselves there, and James had said it would be an honor for you to feel at home with his parents, too. Honestly, you spoil them too much — one look into his bright, wide eyes and you gave in. James didn’t even care that you brought two luggages for clothes alone; he lifted each bag with delight and with ease. 

(Remus had the audacity to laugh when he caught you and Sirius staring at James’s flexed muscles, mouth wide open. 

“As I have said, Remus Lupin, I do not drool!”

“Sure, dove, whatever you say.”)

But now, you really aren’t so sure of your decision. 

“Oh, she’s beautiful, Jamie!” Euphemia encases you in a bear hug the moment you step inside the manor. You’re engulfed in the scent of cinnamon and burnt sugar. You stiffen as she cradles your face in between her palms, smiling ever so fondly at you, cooing about how precious you look, much like a mother would — and how your mother never did. You wonder if this is what you’ve been missing all along — the thought stabs you right in the heart. “Please excuse the mess, dear, we haven’t had the chance to clean up yet, Monty and I are excited to try the recipe Lily owled to us the other day, you see.” 

“I-It’s okay,” You rasp, struggling to hold back the tears. 

“Oh, what a darling you are!” Euphemia smiles and ushers you further inside. “Come, come. The others are right upstairs. You must be tired from the train ride. It is so lovely to finally meet you. Make yourself at home, dear heart — James Fleamont Potter! Give your mama a kiss this instant! Don’t think introducing your girlfriend will distract me from the fact you didn’t owl me letters for two months straight!” 

James whines as he hides behind you. “Mum, I’m seventeen, stop embarrassing me.” 

Euphemia scoffs, hands snapping to her hips. “You’re going to be my baby boy forever, now come here.” 

With a shy smile, you step away to surrender James to his mother — you don’t understand which part of this is embarrassing; you wish for a mum who’d welcome you home like that, with unconditional love and kind eyes. James squawks and calls you a traitor, just before his mum attacks him with loud, exaggerated kisses to his cheek, leaving lipstick stains all over his face. You hide a laugh behind your palm, ignoring the way your heart pangs at the sight of their unrestrained smiles. Euphemia lets her son go after a few more seconds, cackling at the masterpiece she’s created on a grumbling James, who’s rubbing his skin to erase his mother’s affections. She hugs you once more before setting you off, telling you to meet Fleamont after you’ve unpacked. 

Just as you reach the foot of the stairs, you hear a girlish squeal, then the sound of rapid footfall against each wooden step. Lily greets the two of you by jumping off the last step and wrapping each arm around yours and James’s neck. “Welcome home, Jamie!” She captures his lips with her own before doing the same to you, cupping your cheek lovingly, “So happy you made it, princess! How was the ride here?” 

You were never a fan of traveling by Floo; it made you nauseous after, and left you with a pounding headache for hours. Without hesitation, the others offered to accompany you on the train, but you insisted they Floo ahead to Godric’s Hollow — it took a lot of convincing, but they finally agreed, (they’re not the only ones spoiled; they couldn’t refuse you, too.) With the exception of James, who wanted to be there when you saw his home for the first time. You nearly cried when you saw how well-loved their manor was; rose shrubs dipped in snow, Sirius’s motorcycle parked outside, a mailbox with poorly painted shapes, the fences covered in Christmas lights, and the amount of shoes by the door. From outside, you could hear the laughter and warm conversations. 

“It was fine,” You say in a daze.

Lily sees right through you — and frowns sadly. “You alright?” 

Were you? 

You catch sight of the moving photographs of James and you finally reach your breaking point. There’s a swell in your throat that you can’t seem to push down. There’s a photo of James, Lily, Remus and Sirius; James is in his Quidditch jersey, raising the Golden Snitch high up in the air, Remus is twirling Lily, his arms around her waist, and Sirius is holding up a charmed banner that says: Gryffindor Rules! Slytherin Sucks! Except For My Darling Angel Love Of My Life Most Beautiful And Gorgeous Perfect Brilliant Girlfriend! 

There are hints of life all around the manor. Remus’s textbooks and scarf are laid by the coffee table. Lily’s O.W.L. marks are framed on the wall, along with Dumbledore’s letters to James and Lily awarding them the position of Head Girl and Head Boy, as well as McGonagall’s previous letter to Remus that came with his Prefect badge years ago. There’s a spot dedicated to Peter, filled with a photograph of him awkwardly holding his Herbology test, one that he scored a hundred and twelve percent on. It’s a wall dedicated to them, you realize. 

Then, you find it. 

Right there, up above James’s spot, and beside Sirius’s display of beyond perfect Transfiguration exam marks, and a picture of him and Remus kissing each side of your face. 

It’s a space on that wall just for you. 

James follows your gaze and rubs the back of his head, ears tinged with a shade of deep pink. “Mum left a space when I first told her about you. I-It’s yours, you can put anything you want there.” 

“I can’t,” You whisper, lips quivering as your heart cracks into a million pieces. It’s too much. 

James blinks. “Can’t? It’s yours, I promise. Mum won’t mind. You can even hang your dumb Montrose Magpies poster and I won’t tear it down — Marauders’ honor. I can help you if you want. I-I’m not good as decorating as Lily, but I paid attention to your boring explanation of color theory and I know that you hate this shade of—”

“James, I can’t do this.” 

That’s all you say before you run out of the door. 

(And you’re absolutely delusional if you think James won’t follow you out that door and into the brewing snowstorm.) 

You hear James call out to you, but you opt to ignore him and clutch your winter coat tighter around your body, shivering in the blowing wind, trudging through the deep snow through your heeled boots — designer couldn’t help you now even if you tried. You sniff, the salty taste of your tears dripping to your lips, chest tightening with a foreign kind of pain, and the frost nipping at your fingers. You give up after a few minutes, falling to the ground with an anguished cry, hand clutching the front of your chest as you struggle to breathe. 

James reaches you in a matter of minutes, draping his jacket over you, barely flinching as the cold welts his bare skin. Frantically, he wipes the tears from your eyes, a pained expression on his face as he sees you cry helplessly. “Come on, dove, it’s not safe out here. Let’s go back home, yeah? I’m sorry for upsetting you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry — I’m so sorry, dove, please don’t cry, it’s killing me to s–see you like this.” Tears fall from his eyes, and he begins stuttering from the cold, but you can’t go back to the manor. “What did I do? Please tell me so I can fix it. I love you—I’m sorry.”

You bat his chest. “G–Go home, Jamie. I’ll just take the train back to the castle.” 

“What?” He shakes his head, grabbing onto your hands. “Y–You can’t. Not in this weather. You’ll get sick if you try to walk back to the station.” 

You withdraw from his hold as you back away from James, slipping into the ice-cold mask you know so well. 

James rises in an instant, reaching for you. “No, no, no, no, no. You don’t get to do that. Not now. Not with me. Please, just come home and I-I’ll fix it.” 

“Goodbye, James,” You tell him firmly, clenching your jaw as you look him straight in the eyes. 

He grimaces. “That won’t work on me, princess, and you know it. Don’t push me away—please.” 

“Go home, James!” You yell bitterly, pivoting on your heel as you march through the thick inches of snow, hearing Remus and Lily’s voice grow louder in the distance. “Just go!”

He grits his teeth, nails digging deep into the palms of his hand. “You’re a coward if you walk away from here—from us—right now!” James shouts through chattering teeth and stray tears. “And I hate cowards more than anything!” 

You don’t look back. 

(Later that night, James stares blankly at the fireplace, tossing twigs now and then. He’s all out of tears. Remus crosses his legs as he sits beside James and offers him a steaming mug of hot chocolate. 

“Don’t want one,” He mutters, words coarse from earlier, head turning away from Remus’s gift. “Just want her.” 

Remus sets the beverage on the ground before pulling James’s head down to his chest, gently wiping the tears from his eyes as he wraps the blanket around both of them. He presses a soft kiss to James’s hair. 

“I said I hated her,” James says weakly. “I don’t—I never will. I just hate that she’s out there spending Christmas all alone. She could be here—with us. I hate not knowing that she’s safe, or that she thinks I don’t love her anymore—that’s a bloody lie, Moony. I adore her. If anything, I don’t deserve her.” 

James finds out that he does have more tears left in him. “I miss her. Bring her back, Rem, please.”

“You’ll cry yourself sick, love.” Remus wipes each tear away. “Let’s go to bed, yeah? Mornings do have a way of bringing miracles to us.” Because after a night of excruciating pain under the moon’s command, he wakes up to sunlight, and there you all are — smiling down at him like he is deserving of love; and maybe Remus can’t fault you for running away.

You’d kiss him gently and tell him how proud you are of him for coming back to you. 

Remus only hopes you come back to them, too.)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“AND THAT, dear Harry, is how I humiliated Lucius Malfoy in fifth-year.” Your eyes gleam wickedly as you rest your arms on the school desk. “If he ever bothers you in your time, just mention my name—oh, I wish I could see the look on his face when he realizes I’m haunting him from my grave. Tell him, okay?” 

Harry nods excitedly. “Definitely.”

“Got anymore stories?” He asks. 

You cackle menacingly. “Boy, do I ever. Let me tell you about the one time Beckett McLaggen took me out on a date to Madam Puddifoot’s!” 

Harry grimaces. “Do I even want to hear about this?” 

“Oh, pish-posh.” You dismiss him with a wave. “You do, this story is hilarious. Now that I look back on it, Sirius was quite cross with him for the rest of the day—how strange. I wonder why.” 

Harry stares at you in disbelief. “You’re joking.” 

“I most certainly am not, Harry Potter.” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1974; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

AN EAR-PIERCING scream wakes you up in the middle of the night. You snatch your wand from under your pillow, heart thudding against your chest in fear — last year, the Prewett twins decided it was funny to break into the girls’ quarters at midnight; you get a month worth of detention for hitting Gideon with the Expulso curse and suspension from class for two weeks, while the twins get away with a slap on the wrist and have the time of their lives spreading rumors of you being a Death-Eater. 

Endora shoots up to her feet as well, staring at you in panic — then the girl screams again, and you realize it’s Allegra. 

You sigh in relief, lowering your wand before saying to Endora, “I-It’s alright. I’ll handle it.” 

“Are you sure?” Endora asks timidly, gnawing at her lip and wincing when Allegra wails once more. 

“Certain,” You respond, yawning. 

As Endora climbs back into her bed, you slip into Allegra’s side, holding her head to your chest, brushing your fingers through her hair and untangling the knots. Like most of the Greengrass women, she was of ethereal beauty — silky blonde hair, smooth and fair skin, deep blue eyes that enchant wizards and witches alike. But her cheeks have gone sallow from exhaustion, eyes devoid of any emotion, and her skin now sunken into her bones. 

“I don’t want to marry him—I can’t! He’s old enough to be my father!” Allegra sobs violently, desperate for anyone to hear her, but no one really ever hears their cries from the dungeon. “They said they’d wait until I graduated—they promised! I’m supposed to marry him this summer!” 

Your heart breaks for your friend — there’s nothing you can do but hold her until she’s cried every bit of her soul out. 

“I hate them,” Allegra whispers to you; she had been shedding tears for hours, trembling in your arms until morning finally came. 

“I know,” You say defeatedly. 

“I wish I was dead,” She replies lifelessly. “He can’t marry a dead bride.” 

“Don’t say that,” You beg as you hug her tight; afraid to lose her to the world that has worn her down. “Please.” 

Allegra sinks into her pillows, and you follow in suit, hesitantly laying your head beside hers. She stares at the ceiling dully. “The world is so, so cruel to us daughters sometimes. And it’ll be cruel to our daughters, and their daughters. When will it end?” 

“I don’t know,” You say honestly. 

Allegra hums, neither disappointed nor surprised, and turns away to lay on her side. “Pansy,” She mumbles.

“What?”

“If we lived in a better world and I married for love, I’d want to name my daughter Pansy — like the flower.”

(Later that day, you are given detention for beating Evan Rosier to a pulp. He makes a joke about dirty blood, and you snap — you are tired of laughing and pandering to the arrogant men in your life. This is the first time you publicly defy your parents, and it felt good — more than good, it was liberating. It’s like breathing fresh air for the first time. Then, you earn a second detention for storming up to the Gryffindor common room and punching Fabian Prewett in the face — because fourth-year boys had no business sneaking into the girls’ dorm in the middle of the night for some stupid prank — and you threaten him by pointing the tip of your wand deep into his neck, demanding they apologize to you, Allegra, and Endora. 

You get what you want, naturally — as princesses do. You decide then that you’re going to create a world where girls like Allegra don’t cry anymore.)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.) 

HARRY TWINGES WHEN he hears the end of your fourth or fifth story of the afternoon — no wonder you had been so angered by his being in your room. “I-I’m sorry—” 

“Yesterday was hardly your fault,” You interrupt him. “There’s no controlling where magic brings you, not in your case. You didn’t know, but now you know. I don’t hold it against them — anymore. Fifteen-year-old boys can be stupid, and at least they’ve learned from their mistakes. You should have seen your mother — erm, Lily — she looked like she was ready to kill them after finding out what they had done. Even Molly was cross with the twins, and you know how loyal Molly is to her family.”

Oh, Harry knows.

And Hermione knows it all too well. 

“Others call us evil, conniving and cruel, Harry,” You tell him grimly, “But I will protect my own, no matter what I have to do.”

At that moment, Harry thinks he understands why some people come to fear Slytherin. 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.) 

“LOOK, LILY-PAD, the princess is drooling again.” 

You open your eyes to glare at Sirius. “I don’t drool, idiot.” 

Lily chortles as she presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Of course you don’t, princess.”

Currently, you’re lying on a shabby loveseat that is too small to hold the three of you; it’s the only furniture in the new cottage you call home, where Potter Manor was right across the street. (Euphemia was ecstatic to have you all nearby — the lovely woman was sprite for her age, but you notice the way she stops to sit and catch her breath, Sirius and James hovering over her attentively; you’re good at pretending, so you pretend that the Potters will be around forever.) Some rooms are dusty with cobwebs, walls unfinished, with the floors creak under your feet, and there’s no other place you’d rather call home. 

You’re in between Sirius and Lily; your lips swollen from their kisses, cheeks flushed and the column of your throat graced with love marks. It’s the most beautiful set of jewelry you’ve ever worn, not even burmese rubies could compare. Lily’s hand rests under your jumper, Sirius’s thigh wedged between your own. While peace blankets the three of you, James and Remus have yet to come home from their task given by the Order. 

“You need a haircut, my love,” You mumble drowsily, pulling at one of the dark ringlets — it’s gone past his shoulders now. He captures your hand and leaves a delicate kiss on your fingertips. 

Lily buries her nose in your hair. “She’s right, Siri.” 

“I’m always right.” You pout. 

Sirius, love-sick fool that he is, smiles as he tilts your chin with his finger and ensnares you in a kiss that leaves you breathless. “Course you are — our girl’s bloody brilliant, isn’t she, Lily-pad?”

“Without a doubt.”

You roll your eyes at their antics, rolling around so that your back is pressed to Sirius’s chest — they’re not fooled, however; Lily sees the way your eyes flicker in amusement and the way your lips threaten to curve up into a smile. She traces the swell of your lips with her thumb, to the dip of your nose, and to the apples of your cheek. Sea-green eyes beam at you.

“I love you,” says Lily, committing every inch of you to her memory as she wears a melancholic smile. “I don’t know who told you that you don’t deserve to be loved, but they were wrong. You are so precious to us, dove, you don’t even know how much. This right here is real — and nothing could ever change that.” 

As it turns out, you did have more smiles to give — only the happy ones; not the fake, courteous smiles that you had given to your mother’s friends in the past. You come to intertwine your hand with Lily’s, the one that had been resting on your cheek, tenderly wiping the tears that pooled within your eyes. Your heart could burst from your chest. They had a habit of wringing every emotion out of you; of making love feel real, not just a myth from a Muggle storybook. And you find, that you didn’t mind this particular habit of theirs. In the comforts of the place you call home, where you irrefutably belong, you are free to seek their arms and fall into their love, and the best part is where you get to love them right back. 

How lucky you are. 

“Let’s get married,” You blurt out, holding your breath, feeling Sirius’s hand on your waist stiffen. 

“What?” Lily gasps breathlessly. 

You smile up at Lily. “Let’s get married. All of us. I don’t care where, o–or about the rings, let’s just get married. With the war going on, we deserve s–something good.” 

Lily sobs as she nods excitedly. “Yes. Oh my Gods—we’re getting married!” 

Sirius stares at you in wonder. “Bloody hell, dove, give a guy some warning, would you?”

You grin. “Is that a yes?” 

“It’s a yes — forever.” Sirius dives in to kiss you senseless. “Couldn’t get rid of us now even if you tried.” 

“I don’t think I’d want to, anyway.” 

Right then, the rickety door slams open, and you hear the loves of your life calling out for the three of you. Followed by the heavy thud of Dragonhide boots plunking down onto the floor

“We’re home!” James announces in the entryway. 

Lily wastes no time in shooting up from the sofa and welcoming them home with quite a unique greeting:

“We’re all getting married!” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.) 

“That ring is an heirloom passed down to the children in our family,” You tell Harry, pointing to the band around his finger. “It’s meant to symbolize our loyalty and duty to our House. My mother said I would have earned it only when I became a wife to Ferguson Bulstrode.” You chuckle at Harry’s perturbed grimace. “No, I didn’t marry him — thankfully. After Allegra. . . I—I. . . I couldn’t bear it. If I was going to marry, it would be on my own terms, and it would be for love, nothing less. Then, if my child wanted it, I’d give them this ring. I want to leave behind a legacy that I created. When I was younger, I’d resigned to a fate that was forcefully carved by someone else’s hand.” 

You shake your head. “I want to die being remembered by those who loved me. Otherwise, I was never truly alive.” 

Harry won’t let that happen, he won’t ever let your name be forgotten. He’ll share of your kindness to his friends, of your bravery and loyalty. Hermione will love your fondness of Muggle musicals and how you stood up to Lily’s defense in a world that ostracized her for being different. He’ll remind Remus of your love for him, that he had brought you hope in times of despair. Harry is going to make sure the world knows you had been so full of life with endless love to give. You are going to be remembered in the way Voldemort never will. 

“What do the words mean?” He stares at the writing: Tempus Edax Rerum.

You smile. “Time, devourer of all things.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

“REMUS—THE MUGGLES ARE stuck in the telly again!” 

Remus snickers as he takes the vacant space beside you on the loveseat, now sewn up with care and spattered with knitted quilts and throw pillows — still too small to carry three people but hasn’t given out yet, anyway. He takes Lily’s legs over his lap, swiftly stealing a kiss from your lips. “It’s a film, dove, they’re acting.” 

You purse your lips. “They’re trapped inside, then?” 

Lily snorts into her tub of chocolate fudge ice cream. “Not quite, princess, it’s recorded. Movies are like moving photographs — but they’re an hour long with sounds.” 

“Oh.” You turn your attention back to the screen, back to the film Lily had been watching. You had to admit — the story of Sandy and Danny was an interesting one. “Lily-pad, she’s singing — again.” 

Sirius hushes you from where he was cuddling James on the other couch. “She’s supposed to sing, dove, it’s a musical.” 

“Well, yes,” You begin, and James groans into Sirius’s chest, “But they should just talk instead of singing all the time — Sandy’s got a lovely voice, though. I just don’t understand why Danny’s treating her like that! Truthfully, I don’t like any of Sandy’s new friends, other than Frenchy — she’s harmless. If I was Sandy I’d move on from Danny — but then again, that hair and those muscles, and his leather jacket! I can’t blame her.” 

Sirius glowers at you. “You like his leather jacket?” 

“His hair?” James exclaims in horror. 

Remus chuckles as he tucks you in his side, kissing your temple. “If I were you, dove, I’d be quiet and just watch the film.”

“Oh, no, no.” Sirius barely glances at the television as he pauses the film and stands up to point an accusatory finger at you. “Since when were you into leather jackets? Do you think those are cool? Since when? Jamie, should I get one? Let’s unpack this, right now. And his muscles, really?” 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Play the film, Black, I want to see the end of their love story.” 

“I’m telling Euphemia on you!” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.) 

“—and then we realized that we accidentally locked Hermione in with the troll.” Harry’s arms flail about as he shares some of his adventures with you — it had only been fair. He felt like a young boy again, entering Hogwarts for the first time as he watched you listen to him intently, gasping at tale of the vanishing glass and scolding him when he says he and Ron had decided to go searching for Hermione, and by extension, the troll. 

Your eyes grow wide. “A troll? In Hogwarts? They can’t have, not unless—”

“Someone let it in—I know!” Harry grins. “You’re not going to believe who let the troll in the castle.” 

You snap your fingers, “Malfoy, the older one. I know that lump’s got something to do with this. Can’t have been Snape or Quirrell.”

“Just you wait.” Harry’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “—and so, Professor McGonagall finds us, and can you believe it? She awards us for dumb luck! Then. . .” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1979; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

IT HAD COME AS A surprise when you volunteered to join the Order of the Phoenix. You wanted to scoff at their shocked faces — was it so surprising that you wanted to protect your family? They let Severus Snape join their ranks, and you’re fairly certain that you’re a better fighter and survivalist than him — not the better liar, however, he can have that one. The week before, you and the others had an argument that lasted for the whole day. They did not want you in harm’s way, and you would rather die than stay at home, waiting idly for them to return, when you could be out there alongside them. 

(“It’s not some game out there!” Remus runs through his hair in frustration — he had always been so careful to never raise his voice at you, but this one time, he needed you to back down. “Every time you step into a raid, there’s a possibility of you dying, don’t you understand that? And even if you survive — you’ll have blood on your hands, and it does not wash away no matter how many times you try, trust me, we know.” 

“So what?” You throw your hands up in the air, equally aggravated. “I just stay here like some. . . some pet waiting for their owners to come home?” 

“Yes!” Lily angrily replies. “That is the whole point of us joining the Order — so you get to live another day. So we all have a chance at this new world without a war. Let us protect you!”

You grind down on your jaw. “You have got another thing coming, if you think I’m not going to fight tooth and nail for my future.” 

James slams a fist onto the kitchen counter. “There are horrors out there you can’t even imagine. I-It’s worse than we thought. It’s our every nightmare come to life.” 

You raise your chin defiantly. “Then we face it together.”)

Each day, you survive, and each day the five of you return home — scarred and bruised, but safe within the arms of one another. When you collapse and crumble, it is only for the walls of your home to witness. 

Now a month into autumn, you are on your first task without Sirius, James, Lily or even Remus. Instead, you are assigned by Dumbledore to Knockturn Alley along with Peter Pettigrew and Gideon Prewett. How strange time was, years ago you’d never associate with the proud Gryffindors, and now you had to trust them to guard your back. Everyone had to grow up quickly during war, even pranksters. 

The alley was quiet — too quiet for your liking. You had been on alert since the moment you apparated into the area, wand at your ready. The back of your neck prickled with goosebumps as you kept an ear out for any sign of movement. 

Peter shivers and you glance at him — he’s become far too skinny, constantly shrinking into himself out of fear. And while you want to comfort him, you keep your eyes up ahead. Still, there's a nagging feeling that you can’t quite make out. It’s different from all the other times you’ve been asked to search and rescue. 

“Don’t you feel like there’s something wrong?” You ask Gideon, eyes snapping to the flock of crows flying overhead. 

“Dunno, kid,” Gideon says, nudging your shoulder with pressed lips. “Everything about this is freaking me out. The place is too empty.” 

“I get what you mean,” You reply, swallowing your own nervousness. Without waiting for the rest, you speed up your pace. “I’ll scout ahead, who knows what’s been here before us. I don’t want to risk any of our lives, so let’s be careful. Gideon, ward the area while I check for any cursed objects, last time you almost got your arm cut off by a newspaper of all things. And Peter, could you. . . Peter?” 

When you turn to check behind you, it all happens so fast. 

“Avada Kedavra!” 

You scream as Gideon’s deathly pale body falls to the floor. 

“No!” 

You aren’t given a moment to rush to his side — someone digs their wand in the side of your neck, and you stiffen in their hold. It’s not until they hiss in your ear that you recognize the voice. 

“Rosier.” You spit, biting down on your lip when he presses the tip of his wand further into your flesh. 

“Stupid witch,” He taunts, eyes dilating with vengeance. “Where are your lovers now?” 

“Jealous?” You claw at his arms, chest heaving up and down. “We don’t have room for one more, sorry.”

“Shut up!” He pushes you to the ground in blind rage, and that’s all the opening you need. 

“Expulso!” 

Each curse you send his way lands on his cloaked body, sending him staggering backwards. With ease, you deflect each spell he counters with. You’re winning, he is growing tired, and perhaps that is why you let your guard down. 

“Accio wand!” 

The magic fizzles out, and the spell dies on your lips. As you swivel your head to find out who’s stolen your wand, you expect to find another Death Eater — except it’s Peter. Just Peter Pettigrew, quivering in his boots with tears and snot dripping down his face, your wand in his free hand. You furrow your brows — it doesn’t make sense. 

“Peter?” You call out. 

“Crucio!” 

The curse finds its home in your body — and it sinks deep into your flesh, grinding your bones until you slump to the ground, wriggling as you draw blood from your lips, refusing to let them hear an ounce of your pain. Blood trickles down your nose as you hear Evan Rosier dancing around you in glee. You know this curse well; the sound of your father condemning you gleefully echo in your head. You crawl over to Gideon — hand desperately reaching for his shirt. 

“Crucio!” Rosier grabs you by the hair and howls with laughter. “Scream for me again—Crucio!” 

It’s as though someone had begun to rip you in half. Your bones shift and crack with every uttered curse. The veins in your eyes have popped and through bloody vision, you see Peter cowering away from you.

“You—fucking—traitor,” You gurgle, throat welling up with blood that’s risen from your stomach. “They’ll—never—forgive you—never.” 

“Crucio! Crucio! Crucio! Come on, witch — SCREAM! Look at her go, Pettigrew, crawling like some pathetic worm.” 

You lay in your owl pool of blood, wearing a body that is marred and lacerated. But you see something in Gideon’s hand. I’m sorry, you want to tell him. I’ll get you home to Molly, you promise, please lend me your magic this once. With every last bit of your strength, just as Rosier directs another curse at you — one you know you won’t survive — you snatch the wand from Gideon’s hand and tear the last of your magic from your throat. 

“Defodio!” 

You wait with a bated breath as silence fills the alley; lucky to have remembered Professor Flitwick’s quick remark as to how the slight difference in pronouncing a charm could alter its effect. Rosier stands on shaky legs, a stream of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. You watch as he looks down to his chest, where a gaping hole now lies instead of where his ribcage and heart should be. As Gideon had done before him, Evan Rosier crashes to the ground. 

That just leaves one more problem. 

Peter scurries to your side the moment Rosier can hurt him no longer. “I-I’m sorry—I’m sorry. I had to. . . T–They killed my mum, they killed M–Mary, and t–they said I would die too if I d–didn’t do this. I’m sorry. Y–Your father was there, too. He said he would take you in, let you l–live if you joined us. W–We can live, t–there’s still a chance for us to survive.” 

Your fingers are bent at unsightly angles, the remnants of the Torture Curse still flowing through your veins, but your face contorts in anger as you let your hand curl around his neck. He sobs louder, and though your grip is weakening — you make sure he looks into your eyes, that he feels your touch.

“I’d rather—die.” You say through gritted teeth, nails drawing blood from his grimy skin. “You’ll die too—you’ll feel my blood on your skin—everywhere you go, Peter.” 

Peter shakes his head, now clumsily pushing his wand down to the center of your chest. “Y–You were the only o–one who d–didn’t laugh at me. N–Not like the others.” 

“When they find out—you’re dead, Pettigrew.” You laugh darkly as more blood exits your body through your lips. “There’s nowhere you can hide—you’re a dead man.” 

“P-Please die,” Peter cries out, each killing spell coming out as a garbled whisper. “Please die,  s–so I can live. I c–can’t fight anymore, I’m tired.” 

Your vision goes a hazy shade of white, Peter’s silhouette fading away to the familiar scenery of your cottage in Godric’s Hollow. 

Oh.

Dying is less painful than you had expected it to be. It’s like coming home after a day’s work. 

You just wanted to rest now. 

The world caves in on you, and you barely hear Peter’s next words. 

“Avada Kedavra.” 

(It’s past midnight when Peter Pettigrew arrives at Grimmauld Place, where it’s been altered to host the members of the Order, Lily sobs in relief and gathers him in her arms. 

You’ll feel my blood on your skin.

You’re a dead man. 

Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead. 

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re home safe — welcome home — thank the Gods you’re alive,” Lily blabbers through her tears, checking his face for any major injuries. “Merlin, what happened? There’s too much blood on you. It’s on your shirt and your face.” 

“It’s not mine,” says Peter hoarsely. 

Sirius’s gaze darkens, arms crossed over his jacket as he leaned against the wall. “Where is she?” 

Lily nods, standing on her tiptoes to search for any sign of you. “Peter? I–Is she alright? Has something happened to her?” 

Peter stays silent for a moment too long, and he finds himself slammed against the wall behind him, Sirius snarling in his face as he seizes the front of Peter’s soiled shirt. “Where the fuck is she, Pettigrew?” 

Peter begins to weep. “I–It was an ambush. None of us saw it coming. Gideon r–ran. She was taking on two Death-Eaters at once and I–I was too far away.” 

Lily collapses to the ground with a heart-wrenching scream.

Sirius growls as he drives his fist to the wall, inches away from Peter’s face. “Where is her body?” 

“It was a disintegration spell.” With Severus Snape — brought to the Malfoy Manor to be made as an example of what happens to blood-traitors. 

James pushes Sirius out of the way and grabs a hold of Peter, knocking his head against the concrete. “It should have been you—” James snaps at Peter. “If it came down to you or her—you should have saved her!” 

“W-What?” Peter stammers, eyes wide. “She chose to save m–me.” 

James sneers at him. “You should have just died.”)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1996; CURRENTLY, IN THE PRESENT.) 

ST. JEROME’S GRAVEYARD had exactly one visitor. Remus Lupin sits in between James and Lily’s graves, a bottle of firewhiskey in his hand — four empty at his side. He must be going crazy. There’s no funeral for Sirius as there’s no body to actually bury, Harry is presumed missing after an attack in Diagon Alley, and your name stares back at him mockingly. He tries not to dwell on your passing — there have been too many holes, too many details left unsaid; and he knows just the rat who has all the answers. Unfortunately, Wormtail won’t come out of whatever hole he’s crawled into. Either him, or Severus. 

He sighs, rubbing the temples of his head to ease the growing pains. 

You are the first to be buried of the five. Like Sirius, there had been no recovered body to lay to rest, but they asked for a compromise instead. Your name is engraved under Euphemia’s in her tombstone, and Remus figures it’s the fitting place to leave you be — with your mother, welcoming you home with open arms. He hopes you’re at peace, wherever you are. (Because, honestly, at this point, he might just fucking follow you.) 

Remus takes another swig of his alcohol, laughing bitterly to himself. He glances at James’s headstone and raises his bottle to him. “Not even in death, huh?”

He downs the last of the drink, rising to his tremulous legs. Remus gathers the flower bouquets he had bought earlier this morning; lilies-of-the-valley for Lily, white carnations for Euphemia, forget-me-nots for you, and for James — Remus leaves a moving photograph of him and Sirius; it’s a snapshot taken by Lily during the wedding as James dips his head low to kiss Sirius. Remus thinks it’s a wonderful memory to remember them by. 

“Take care of them for me, Jamie.”

And that is all the goodbyes Remus has the strength for. 

end note. i think i was crying the whole time i was writing this part, LMAO. i should be able to wrap things up in the next one. important!! there is actually a scene i was hesitant to include, but i ended up writing anyway. it's the whole part where allegra greengrass breaks down, and it was difficult for me to decide because i knew the implications; that i had a strong underlying message in that part, and i don't want it to be misconstrued or anything. pls pls tell me if it comes off as offensive, i definitely don't want to hurt anyone. nevertheless, thank you again so so so much for reading!! if you spot a plot hole, no you didnt!! i hope the time-jumps weren't too confusing! again, thank you so so much for reading!!

[still-a-morosexual-help]

I'd love to hear your thoughts about Dad!Lucifer actually. Pretty please?

Okay okay but Lucifer;

who gives MC a key to the house because it's their home too

Who gets really happy when Mammon talks about how much he likes Lucifer

Who can't help but cave to his brothers when they plead for something

Who is worried about Asmo even though Asmo is upset with him

Who gets a tiny pleased smile on his face after MC calls them family

Who goes whenever Mammon calls him to hangout

Who breaks the pastry/treat he got from the place he was working at and gave MC the biggest part

Who introduced Levi to anime

Who has a general idea about what's going on in the anime Levi is currently watching

Who shares his coat with MC because it's cold

Who complains about his brothers but gets protective when someone else says something about them

Who finds it adorable when Mammon slips up and accidentally calls him dad

Who takes candid pictures of his kids

Who pleads with Diavolo to let him handle the punishment the one time Mammon pushes too hard and genuinely pisses off Diavolo

Who complains about them but still tucks his kids in when they tire themselves out after a party

Who arranges a family trip to see flowers which are supposed to make people who see them together get lucky/be happy or something like that

Who orders take away for his family when he goes out to eat without them

Who sometimes brings home his kids favourite food

Who arranges picnics for his kids

Who buys train tickets for Mammon, MC and Luke even though he said he wouldn't

Who picked up the oddballs of the Celestial Realm and encouraged them and helped them to grow

Who picks up Mammon's shifts at Hell's Kitchen so that Mammon can study

Who was willing to give up a part of his life for Beel with 0 hesitation

Who, according to Mammon, despite being free/less stressed after losing his memories will never be truly happy because he loves his family too much to be happy living a life where he's forgotten them

Who is more than willing to villanise himself to his kids if that means they won't cross the line & get hurt like Lilith did in the Celestial Realm, and so now thinks and accepts that they all dislike him

Who went to Diavolo so that Mammon could get the car in the colour he wanted

Who is genuinely shocked and upset whenever he's confronted with the way his words and actions have hurt his family (he managed to give all his kids issues and is just so confused whenever they bring it up, this is such a real life situation that it makes me want to throw up)

Who tells his family not to get carried away and hurt themselves or someone else when they start playing around in public

Who doesn't want to be perceived as a boring stick in the mud but also wants nothing more than to go on a factory tour

Who acknowledges that MC is strong enough to look after themself but also that won't stop him from worrying about them

Mammon calls him 'old man'

Who does genuinely believe in all his kids and what they can achieve but says it so infrequently that when he does express that they all malfunction

Who helps Asmo choose his accessories and says that if Asmo wanted to spend time with him he could just ask

Who says he believes in Mammon and then helps him re-write the proposals

Who takes the things his kids forgot at home and gives it to them at school

Who always has a proud little smile when MC shows how much their magic has grown

AND THIS IS ALL CANON! These are all things he's done in canon, he drives me insane, I'm obsessed

Okay look - he's absolutely terrible at times. Like genuinely there are times when he makes my blood boil, specially during S1, the S1 era devilgrams and the pre-canon devilgrams but he's such a complicated character? Who gets character development and we get to see how he softens after being reassured that what happened to Lilith won't happen again (which I've spoken about in detail in another post)

This asshole probably packs lunches with little notes for all his kids whenever it's his turn to cook on a RAD day

He'd absolutely throw hands if an outsider says shit about his family even though just seconds ago he was cussing them out

If it's one of the days where he actually makes it to bed instead of sleeping at his desk he first has to check to make sure all the kids are safely tucked in bed

He probably goes to every one of Beel's fangol matches

If he drove it'd be a minivan

He's got 7 adopted kids in total and 1 biological kid and he loves them all to death & back but he's got so many issues that he has no idea how to properly show it, so only the emotionally intelligent kids know it but even they have their doubts sometimes and it's all a huge mess but holy shit is he trying

He's my favourite grouchy old bastard and one of my favourite parts when writing fics is sprinkling Lucifer just being a Dad into them whenever I can

[thesherrinfordfacility]

what the hell is going on in hell

this is essentially a braindump of ramble-y thoughts because the situation going on in hell is currently my new sub-fixation. a couple of things mentioned/shown in s2 would indicate the position that hell is currently in, and i dont think it's inaccurate to say that they appear somewhat stretched.

first up, we meet shax in ep1; she and crowley appear to have some kind of arrangement (ha) going in, where they are exchanging information - shax keeping crowley abreast of the goings on in hell, presumably so he can monitor his (and by extension - aziraphale's) safety being now an exiled retired demon... and crowley seems to be helping shax to assimilate to life topside, by means of teaching her behaviour that will mean she blends in more with humanity in her new role.

i did a post on bits of this scene, and on shax in general, that looked at how shax appears to be working somewhat with the favour of the higher-ups, possibly to the point of an unofficial informant, that would help her climb the career ladder. but i do wonder how far her allegiance lies, and actually how much she seems to know. in any case, a couple of things about this scene:

hell either doesn't know, or refuses to change, crowley's address for his post - they're still being sent to the flat in his name, and not his new abode, the bentley. furthermore, it's possibly even the case that hell hasn't even acknowledged that crowley has been replaced - they won't accept/recognise shax's signature.

however, shax appears to be very firmly in position as his replacement, and presumably has been for at least a little while. there's been a gap of 3/4 years between s1 and s2, so allowing for hell to be slow on the uptake in replacing crowley (as well as being initially shit-scared of him re: the holy water bath), plus shax is still learning things/remarking on how easy the job is, let's be really generous and say she's had the position, and the flat, for around six months. realistically though, estimating from her question about the boiler which, from crowley's tone, seems to be something that happens periodically, id say it's likely more around 1-3 months.

in any case, that's plenty of time for hell to update the records, right?*

same as crowley remarked in s1, it seems to be universally understood in hell that the ends justify the means; doesn't matter how things are done, just that they are. if shax echoes this sentiment, it supports that it must be true; hell doesn't give one shit about her interacting with crowley. this is supported by 1827; whether you look at it that crowley didn't secure elspeth's soul for hell through suicide, or that crowley was caught being good/nice in the general sense, either way it's strongly suggested that there is a consequence for him not doing the job. doesn't matter how it's done, only that it is.

ergo, hell doesn't care that shax is interacting with crowley, nor that she appears to be recruiting him as an intelligence source (despite his lackadaisical branding of 'traitor'), only that she does what she's ordered to. the issue is though, what are shax's orders at the moment? which leads me to the next one:

she lists three things, two of which don't appear to hold much importance to crowley, or at least he's not surprised by them. the first - he's still in hell's bad books: cool, not a surprise. the second, however, is the 'half rations' reveal. this brilliant post talks about this, because... well, what would demons feed on? or be interested in having, that holds any kind of importance to them? more on this later*. regardless though, crowley seems... to halfheartedly mull over the information? like its interesting, but not a major surprise? maybe it is, maybe it isn't.

the third thing though is the one that crowley perks up at: that something has happened in heaven. shax appears to admit that she doesn't know the details, and needs intelligence, which crowley brushes off. now, the thing that perplexes me is that - well, the conversation between michael and beelzebub hasn't happened yet, right?

could be that there has actually been a previous conversation between michael and beelzebub, where the news that gabriel has disappeared was revealed - and what we see above is a second conversation about the matter, now that it's gotten a little more urgent (hence the BOL threat)

or, that the two different scenes are out of chronological order... which honestly would be just plain weird.

the first option is possible, that beelzebub found out about gabriel from michael in a previous conversation (and told shax), and the one we see above is a follow-up.

but, in the crowley/shax conversation, shax doesn't actually seem to know that it's anything about gabriel, just that something's going on. so presumably, beelzebub doesn't know at that point either - not until the interaction above with michael. at which point, where did shax get her information from? how would shax have known shit was going on in heaven - even without the specifics - before it seems that even beelzebub knew? does shax have a different in-road with heaven?

(at which point, the only ones that appear to know about gabriel going missing, when it happens, is the metatron, michael, uriel, and saraqael - unless there's been a containment breach/someone else accessed the file? make of that what you will.)

*coming back to this point, on why hell hasn't gotten round to, or been bothered to, update the record that crowley is no longer an employee/in his flat, i think this is directly related simply to hell being short-staffed. i think it was mentioned in a BTS video somewhere, but the set design in hell purposefully included lots of files and folders to directly suggest that there is a huge backlog; whilst the higher-ups may be aware of shax replacing crowley, it doesn't appear to have reached the administrative offices:

as for why hell is short-staffed, ive toyed with it in previous posts/rbs but it would suggest that:

demons are disappearing - im thinking along the lines of the book of life, or just straight up being killed

demons are leaving - perhaps another mass rebellion?

demons aren't leaving but the numbers of the damned keep increasing - this, i think, is the most likely.

we don't know what the deal is with heaven, but presumably there is a separate facility for heavenly souls, and all we see in the show are the offices. in any case, it would kind of make sense that, if heaven is in fact taking its fair share of souls, even if lower-choir angels are attending to them... well, it's unlikely to extremely hands-on, is it; souls can be left to their eternal rest with minimal angelic involvement.

demons, however, are actively torturing their share of souls, such as is the purpose of hell, and this is definitely more hands-on; at which point, demons are going to be overworked/understaffed as the soul population increases. demons are only made from fallen angels, so the staffing situation is only going to get worse - hence why in s1, it was revealed not only that an estimate of 10 million demons exist, but that they would be pretty pissed about being told to go back to work. armageddon was meant to wipe out humans altogether (putting a stop to the ever increasing human population and therefore number of deaths), and bring about an eternal victory for one side or the other.

this, however, assumes that heaven is taking their fair share. i don't think it's necessarily the case that they're not (as i said, we haven't actually seen any areas where human souls exist in heaven - only the higher offices), but it's certainly possible that they're not, and they're all going to hell. at which point, why wouldn't heaven want more souls? isn't that ultimately the point of aziraphale and other earth-stationed angels? to bring about god's plan, but also sway humanity to the good? or is that the point - that human souls going to heaven or hell is inconsequential, and all that matters is the complete annihilation of one by the other?

1941 shows a bit more context for hell, in that we have what appears to be the main lobby, with multiple admissions demons (including shax and furfur) and there are chutes for transport into the lower floors/departments.

one thing i did notice as a small difference between 1941 and 2023, is the lights; this could be purely ambience/a single set design choice, but compare the scene where furfur has an audience with dagon, and the crowley/beelzebub chat - the lights in latter start flickering, like they are faulty or there is a power supply issue. this not appearing to happen in 1941 would suggest that the situation has gotten worse between these two points in time. it could just be for the ambience as i said, absolutely, but i think the line re: rations* could potentially be linked here.

another thing that interested me in 1941 is this:

pretty intriguing that the camera deliberately focuses on this, right? instead of continuing to track behind furfur? if it is Of Interest, what is the hourglass keeping time in, or counting down to? it could be the apocalypse, but if you consider the proportionality of sand in the top to the bottom, vs. the time that has passed since the Beginning vs. the next 78 years until armageddon, that seems... well, disproportionate? so could it be ticking down to something else, or does the hourglass time something, and it's just been recently flipped? at which point, why is it framed as so significant?

*returning to the "half-rations" point, there has to be due credit to this post by @that-ineffable-devil, it's such a good point; what do demons care about - is integral to their existence, and is essentially in short supply - that rationing would be necessary? crowley doesn't seem overly intrigued by the notion, but shax idly considers it important enough to share when prompted. op suggested that it's power; that there isn't enough (given that miracles appear to be drawn down from heaven/up from hell) to go around. op gave the great example of the ceiling leak in s1, but if the flickering lights, the broken lift mentioned by eric in ep5, and the excess backlog of filing in s2 is also anything to go by - yeah, these things could be solved with a demonic miracle or 'magical' intervention... so why aren't they?

gabriel cautions (putting it politely) aziraphale at some point around 1793 around using up 'frivolous miracles', which suggests that heaven was/is having a similar issue (or, alternatively, it was simply a power flex; to keep aziraphale in his place, so to speak). however, when we look at the archangels' reactions to the 25-lazarii miracle, their main concern understandably, given the plot, is what it signifies (ie. it's too coincidental to have occurred at the same time as gabriel going AWOL)... but not so much that there isn't enough power to allow a 25-lazarii miracle to go unchecked. instead, it seems like the sheer scale of it is just completely written off, that heaven doesn't actually care too much about how much power it seems to have partially drawn from heaven (ie. if it's a 50/50 split, 12.5 lz), and they seem to write it off like petty cash.

so tl;dr, hell might be having a power issue, but heaven doesn't appear to be sharing in it. i don't think it's anything to do with human souls fuelling miracles, because by the same logic (which i accept may be completely flawed. in fact id stake my life it is) the pool of power should be increasing, rather than decreasing - if more and more souls are being funnelled into hell and heaven respectively. so what if instead there's a leak somewhere - what if heaven is syphoning off power from hell? and when did the power leak start happening - was it to do with the failed apocalypse? is it actually nothing to do with heaven, but instead that because the soul population keeps going up and up, the power they actually have to contain and maintain them is stretched really thin? power can't be spared for lower-priority shit like filing and maintenance? why isn't heaven having the same issue? why is power seemingly finite, and where does it come from? does power actually come from god? or does it directly parallel to humanity's faith (and, presumably, the dwindling amount of it) in god? but heaven is closer to god, so they haven't yet been hit with the shortage?

this is still flummoxing me slightly - if there even is any answer to be had/if there's anything deeper to be read here - but the post is already long enough that it's probably best to leave it there... ideas very much welcome!!!✨

[jamethinks]

Re: Handler knowing about Anya’s powers

Tldr; Handler is known for being aware of everything and discovers that Anya was in project Apple. She then helps to protect Anya and puts her in permanent custody of Twilight.

They do perform tests and experiments but that’s only to monitor her and whenever Anya is overwhelmed they stop.

I only came up with this because I was so worried about the impact her powers had on her health. It was stressing out so bad.

My version of Handler is a sort of “she knows all” type. So she basically knows everything that goes on in Ostania, she may not always know the exact details but she knows. For example: she knows about the Garden and their movements but she doesn’t know Yor is an assassin(not yet at least). She had connections to everything and everyone, information can only be hidden from her for so long.

With Anya. She was actually approached years before Operation Strix about a stolen piece of military tech. WISE wanted to retrieve and destroy. She thought nothing of this until she found out the tech in question was a young child. She rejected it and barred any agent from investigating it because they do not target children.

One day she finally starts cleaning her apartment and finds a random folder, twas the data on target she hadn’t even bothered to open. Once she opened it she was shocked to see the familiar face, it was Anya. The profile went into detail about her powers, her potential etc etc.

Handler doesn’t want to harm Anaya however and instead chooses to put her under a protection program. She may be a dangerous military weapon who could lead to the destruction of the world but she’s also just a kid who didn’t ask for that burden. Handler is actually glad Twilight of all agents found her but in order to prevent any conflicts or having Twilight turn on Anya she chose not to tell him the full story.

She also arranges for Anya to get tested and gain an understanding of her powers just to ensure she’s not sick or slowly dying. It’s unclear how they succeeded and what are the long term impacts. This is actually the main reason I did this. I really worry about Anya’s well-being because her powers are so unknown. And I know it’s fun lighthearted show so it’s unlikely anything bad would happen but I couldn’t take it lmao

The test and sessions are done under Handler’s supervision. She’s known for being trigger happy and rat sensitive so no one tries anything. The tests also aren’t exploitative. Anya has a lot of say this time and can easily say she’s done. Gaining a better understanding of powers actually helps Anya a lot because she never realizes just how much they negatively impacted her.

Bonus: Handler never intended for Twilight to use a child in the mission. There were plans for her after they were just gonna send her back to the orphanage. The main focus was on him and him orchestrating the situation. He just got a dumbass why threw the whole thing

[owlsandwich]

Happy Thursday Ask-A-Thon from the @ask-a-thon team! Here's your question for today:

Do you follow a certain structure when plotting out your stor? Or just go with the flow? Why do you do things this way?

Starting to feel better after surgery so trying to catch up on my asks and tag games :) Thank's so much for sending them!

I like to break my plots down into Act structures, but I often do this after the general plot is outlined. This way, it works kinda like an overlay that allows me to see where certain beats need to be strengthened or where I need to add or re-arrange bits. Mechanics seems to me to be more a five act structure, whereas Darkness is a typical three act.

I don't usually know the second and third acts in detail when I begin writing. I begin everything by writing down chapter titles and a brief description of what happens in each one, in order to build an outline of the story. There's often a couple of scenes that feel like they need to be in the later half, but I haven't quite worked out how we get there yet, so I just throw these in somewhere. This is how my sequel to Mechanics currently looks (I'm still in the plotting stage):

The outline is very subject to change. I have this smudgy vision of the path, that gets sharpened the closer I get to it. Usually I am plotting in my head a good few chapters ahead of where I am writing, so by the time I get there, I know what is going to happen in detail. I am quite visual, so I can shift scenes around in my mind and 'edit' them, before even writing anything down.

Once most of the book is written, I like to use a lot of spreadsheets to check continuity. Here's one for Mechanics:

Darkness has thrown all this out the water, as I write it on my phone and am sharing it as I go. When I come to make a more polished version, I'll do some spreadsheets for it, but at the moment I've had to hold the whole story and structure in my head. Thankfully it's a much simpler story.

[destinyc1020]

re: Tom should move into directing, looks like it really interests him.

I've always thought Tom and Harry would make a good director duo. More specifically, director-producer duo. I feel like Harry's better at or let's say knows more about scriptwriting, everything related to the filming process, cinematography, maybe even the process of working with actors on set etc.

Tom, in my opinion, would be great as a producer. Like really hands-on with the filming process kinda producer who's always on the set. Find and convince some actors to take a part, get the budget and sponsors ('I'm good at selling shit'), arrange locations, oversee\co-write the script and add some cool details (we know he can do that). Participate in organizing the stunt work, of course. Stuff like that.

I'd bet my bottom dollar that someday, that's exactly what the Holland duo will look like. And something tells me it's gonna happen sooner than we all think.

I totally agree Anon! 😃👏🏾

I can definitely see Tom directing one day, and I for sure see Tom and Harry joining forces and being a brother film-making duo.

I kind of feel like they were already on their way to doing this with that children's novel that they got the rights from in order to make a film out of, right? They were working on it during the pandemic shut down, remember? 😃

Tom has already said that he really values the fact that his father was always there when he was growing up, and so he feels like he would like to be there for his future children as well. 🥰

And I totally agree! I can def see Tom being a good producer as well! 😁👍🏾

I definitely see him venturing outside of acting in the future. Not that he'll never act again, but more so that I can see him doing things outside of just acting.

[sunnyworldwidelogistics]

Shipping to Jamaica: How We Helped a Client Solve an FBA Rejection Problem

Shipping to Jamaica: How We Helped a Client Solve an FBA Rejection Problem

We recently had a client from Jamaica, Dwayne, who ordered three containers of products from China. Dwayne wasn’t too familiar with Amazon operations and was worried something might go wrong. Before shipping, he had already sent the FBA labels to the factory. But things didn’t go as planned. When the goods arrived at the port and I arranged for a local driver to deliver them, Amazon’s warehouse refused to accept them. This happened because the paperwork wasn’t complete, the labels weren’t correct, and other issues didn’t meet Amazon’s requirements. When this happens, Amazon sends feedback to the customer’s order dashboard. In this case, the rejection was likely due to the labels not meeting Amazon’s standards.

If a rejection isn’t handled quickly, it not only incurs various fees but also delays Dwayne’s product listing. So, when I received the driver’s rejection notice that evening, and with the weekend just around the corner, I immediately contacted Dwayne at 1 AM to check the rejection reason on his Amazon dashboard.

Dwayne wasn’t very familiar with Amazon’s dashboard, and after searching for a while, he still couldn’t find the rejection information. Both of us were anxious, but we needed to find a solution. The first step was to help Dwayne locate the feedback from Amazon. Since many of our clients run Amazon businesses, I reached out to a client who was more experienced. I asked him to record a video tutorial on navigating the Amazon dashboard, and I sent it to Dwayne.

Following the steps in the video, Dwayne finally found the relevant feedback. As expected, the rejection was due to the labels not meeting Amazon’s requirements. I immediately relayed this information to the truck driver. That same day, I arranged for the goods to be returned to our warehouse in Germany. We then re-labeled the products according to Amazon’s standards and rescheduled the delivery to ensure the goods would be listed on time.

Dwayne was thrilled and said, “Today we picked up all the goods from the warehouse. We are very satisfied. Tell your boss he should increase your salary because you always have time for us and are doing a very good job. See you on the next order.”

As a large international logistics company with nearly 100 employees, we’ve managed to stay competitive in the tough logistics industry by continuously improving our services to meet our customers’ needs. With the growth of e-commerce, our services have evolved as well. Whatever our clients need, we provide it in a timely manner—whether it’s quickly handling Amazon customs clearance, securing an appointment date with Amazon, solving rejection issues, or ensuring timely listing on Amazon. Our goal is to simplify FBA logistics so our clients can focus on their business without worrying about the details.

At Sunny Worldwide Logistics, our service isn’t about being the cheapest; it’s about providing value for the price. That’s why many of our clients are repeat customers. We offer full tracking of goods, stay online during holidays, and respond to issues within 24 hours. Many clients who work with us once can’t imagine working with anyone else. They are very satisfied with our promptness and service. We focus on every step of the logistics process, and our inquiry-to-sale conversion rate is 83%—you won’t find another company in Shenzhen with those numbers.

[smartzinc]

Preparing Units for Turnover: A Property Manager’s Guide

As leases expire, preparing vacated units to be “rent-ready” for the next tenants is a crucial part of operations. How efficiently you handle unit turnover impacts vacancy durations, repair costs, and resident satisfaction. Developing a structured turnover process minimizes headaches at this chaotic stage. In this article, we’ll explore best practices for preparing your properties for turnover.

Communication and Timeline

The turnover process starts well before the prior tenants move out. A coordinated timeline ensures the unit is ready for showings and new move-ins. 

60-90 days out Notify current residents of lease expiration and arrange a pre-move out inspection. Provide guidance on proper move-out procedures.

30 days out Reaffirm move-out date and start marketing the unit for pre-leasing. 

2 weeks out Confirm tasks like utility transfers, key returns, final inspection scheduling.

Move-out – Perform detailed inspection identifying repairs. Change locks if needed.

After move-out – Complete repairs rapidly and clean/paint unit thoroughly. 

Before move-in – Conduct final quality assurance walkthrough after repairs.

Proactive communication ensures all parties know expectations for a smooth transition between old and new tenants.

Detailed Move-Out Inspection

Conducting a comprehensive inspection after tenants vacate is crucial for identifying needed repairs, cleaning, and damages for deductions. Thoroughly evaluate:

All rooms - Note repairs like cracked walls, stains/damage to surfaces, carpet issues.

Appliances – Assess functionality, cleanliness, and damage like scratches or dents.

Bathrooms – Check for leaks, water pressure, stained grout/caulk, missing hardware.

Windows – Test operation and screens; watch for cracks.

Doors – Confirm handles, locks and knobs are intact.

Electrical – Verify light switches and fixtures work; replace bulbs.

HVAC – Check filter; test heating, cooling, air flow.

Documentation like photos and video speed capturing all deficiencies needed to make the unit “rent ready.”

Scheduling and Completing Repairs

Use inspection findings to quickly schedule contractor repairs:

Categorize issues by severity – Triage critical electrical, plumbing, HVAC issues for immediate repair.

Confirm contractor availability – Book appointments based on urgency and get commitments.

Purchase supplies – Order any materials like paint, flooring, appliances well in advance.

Gain access – Coordinate access for contractors; re-key if needed. 

Inspect work – Do final walkthrough when repairs are finished to catch any deficiencies.

Tight coordination ensures repairs happen rapidly so unit downtime is minimized.

Updating and Enhancing Units

Turnover also offers an opportunity to update units with improvements that increase rental value:

New paint or flooring – Fresh surfaces make units feel brand new. Neutral colors have wide appeal.  

Appliance upgrades – Upgrade to stainless steel or smart appliances to command higher rents.

Hardware updates – New handles, lighting fixtures and cabinet pulls refresh the space.

Countertop resurfacing – Quick DIY kits make worn countertops look new for under $100.

Bathroom updates – New shower fixtures, vanities, toilets and lighting revive baths.

Outdoor space improvements – Pressure wash patios/balconies and add new patio furniture.

Even modest updates make units feel fresh and updated to new tenants.

Deep Cleaning Process

A sparkling clean unit is one of the most important turnover touchpoints. Plan to thoroughly clean:

All floors – Vacuum carpets, mop hard floors, scrub grout.

Bathrooms – Disinfect all surfaces; descale fixtures.

Kitchen – Degrease appliances/cabinets; sanitize sinks.

Windows – Clean inside and out; wipe sills and baseboards.

Walls – Spot clean marks; patch holes.

Laundry – De-lint dryer vent and wipe machines.

Outdoor space – Sweep leaves/debris; pressure wash.

Air ducts – Professionally clean ducts if needed to refresh indoor air.

Hire professional cleaners if deep cleaning hundreds of units is unrealistic with in-house staffing.

Quality Assurance

Conduct a final walkthrough after cleaning/repairs to confirm rent-ready condition:

Function test appliances, fixtures, electronics, HVAC and smoke detectors.

Verify all previous deficiencies were properly addressed.

Ensure finishes and surfaces are pristine; touch up paint if needed.  

Check windows function smoothly and locks work.

Confirm all bulbs and batteries are new.

Review safety stock like fire extinguishers and CO monitors.

Photograph the move-in ready unit for marketing and new tenant.

Thorough QA ensures you never hand off an incomplete or subpar unit.

Streamlined turnover is crucial for maximizing occupancy. By planning proactively and investing some elbow grease, units can be refreshed efficiently. Treat each vacancy as an opportunity to impress incoming residents and position your properties competitively. Follow these best practices to make unit turnover a smooth, value-adding process.

[alphabetsoup-blogposts]

I've tried to explain before...

...that I live in a world of tampered devices and platforms, that my online experience is not like other peoples and that it's impossible entirely to prevent it. It's the unlovely product of a world of anagrams and I guess it beats the death threats (just).

Things that would shock other people are commonplace for me—a cursor that moves independently to circle objects and underline words was a thing for a while, a mobile phone store once instructed me, very insistently and with added sarcasm, to upload the registration number etched on the sim card tray and I have played at least two online games in which the names of NPCs were altered to track those of my IRL acquaintances.

Ho hum.

Recently, these difficult experiences have focused on the Amazon platform and they have proven to be hugely disruptive as well as disorienting. All the pages are a patchwork mix-and-match ("consumers found this bar of soap to be difficult to assemble and noted that several screws were missing"), the website decides for hours at a time that I am not resident in the UK and nothing can be shipped (no, not a VPN problem), I cannot check out groceries because the buffering is eternal and when I do get an order through, the delivery driver decides to drop off approximately only half my groceries and then several hundred yards away. Finally, when I phone customer service, the telephonist does not recognise any of the dialogue boxes that my son and I are plainly viewing on the screen and therefore cannot help. If I try to use the chatbot, it simply cycles through a frustrating and pointless mobius loop of self-referential questions.

You will have your own view of what these things mean and I know you will not suspend critical judgment just because I say it is so, but I am an old, old hand and do not ask myself anymore whether I could be "imagining" things. The long and the short of it is that platforms do this when someone wants me to address, or revisit, a particular task or code and the message has to be passed on anonymously. Last night, for example, I infer that someone wanted a more detailed re-examination of codes on Lao Radio and so I got the run around for approximately 6 hours with respect to kindle dictionaries that my son—who is interested in Asian languages—would like to use for his studies.

I don't normally set all these problems out like this. Sometimes I explode and sometimes I vent a little but I rarely explain. Today, I'm writing all this down because I am going to do something unpleasant that will impact people who are entirely innocent. I'm going to postpone my efforts to read the "books" for another day. I will not log back in to my usual arrangements tonight, as I previously said I would, or tomorrow morning. That means that work will not get done, which is a great shame, but I must take a stand to protect myself and my family—nor will I try to catch up with this work later on. It will be lost. As things stand right now, I intend to pick arrangements back up at 900pm Monday evening (which takes me to Brisbane for the Tuesday morning breakfast show).

Next time something like this happens, I will postpone work for two days, then three...and so on until, perhaps, we are not working at all. As I say, I can see where this is headed and it makes me sad because there is so much in the collaboration that is good and so many wonderful people giving it their best, but one should not surrender to bullying—it only ever gets worse.

Footnote—It goes without saying that in this murky world nothing is what it seems and so I wish to emphasise that I do not think Lao National Radio (or any coders they may or may not have) are likely to be responsible for this. (I bear in mind all the possibilities, including that these episodes involve a kind of competitive double bluff intended to derail the whole exercise.) Nor do I think Amazon qua company is engaged in some kind of malevolent control. I'm unable to say whether the company could have prevented this with more robust security measures or whether it is simply a case of local hacking. I'm leaving that question to those who understand the tech issues and capabilities much better than I.

[windvexer]

hi chicken, i'm an experienced tarot reader, but this is something i would really appreciate your help with, as i've never had a reading quite like this, and i've had a lot of weird or distinctive spreads in the past.

basically i've just done my monthly spread for July. there are ten questions i ask- (self at the beginning of the month, theme of the month, self at the end of the month, main goal, main obstacle , main accomplishment, what to avoid, what to embrace, where to get support, and advice) as well as three key cards for any major events. This is a spread that's worked for me well for a while now, even if some months it's less helpful than others.

relevant info- been having a hard time for a long time, don't want to get into it too much, but part of it is that i'm at the point where almost all of my relationships are not at all satisfying to me and aren't fulfilling any of my needs. this life "plot point"has been brewing for years despite my attempts to fix it. anyway, i'm at my breaking point. for reference i'm the 🌀anon who asked about energy work a while ago and got identified as an energy sun by @thespellweavingspirit .

so i've just done my july spread, and every single card minus one of my spread was reversed. Unusual- and if all the cards I pull are reversals I either flip them upright or re-draw, except for when there's an upright in there, because it's always meant that the reversals are on purpose, even if there are too many. This is the most I've ever gotten any reversals, it's kind of confounding. Said upright card was the "main obstacle" card, which was Judgement. Everything else is a mix of pentacles, cups, swords, wands, and another two major arcana. in case it's important, in order- (self beginning of month = ten of pentacles rx, theme page of wands rx, end of month three of pentacles rx, main goal three of cups rx, - , main accomplishment ten of cups rx, what to avoid queen of cups rx, what to embrace three of swords rx, where to find support knight of pentacles rx, advice the hanged man rx, major events are the empress rx , ten of wands rx, and five of cups rx). i shuffle my cards intensely before I start, and shuffle between each card pull, so i'm not pulling from a clump of cards that all happen to be reversed. I'm honestly feeling frustrated and was hoping you had any insight on spreads that turn out like this. I can see an emphasis on relationships within the spread as well as roles i play, but it's hard to make sense of all of this, which is unusual.

thank you for your time if you choose to respond and i hope this ask wasn't annoying in any way🌀

Sometimes, when spreads come out all weird and jumbled, I take it to be "we've run out of ways to tell you what's going to happen so here's a bunch of omens at once, good luck."

Your spread, however, I think can be analyzed on a deeper level.

Without the exact spread arrangement this kind of analysis won't be super accurate, but I'm going to share it anyway because it might be helpful to spark ideas in your own interpretation:

When doing advanced analysis, you can break the spread down into chunks and view each chunk on its own before blending them together in a whole. Same concept as reading a sentence before reading a paragraph.

The exact meanings don't necessarily have to be brought up. I leave it to you to fill in the details based on what system of meanings you are using.

One again, since I don't know how you actually laid out your spread, this is just an example of a way to look at it (even if they were all cards laid out in a single line they can still be broken up, etc).

Let's start with 10/Pentacles (R) [beginning of month], Page/Wands (R) [theme of month], and 3/Pentacles (R) [end of month].

We start out with the highest # earth card and there is a steep downturn to a low # earth card. Essentially, whatever is had will be reduced or lost. The page in the middle can show us details as to why.

In the way that I read, minor arcana tend to be events while courts tend to be agents, identities, or behaviors.

Normally, the fiery Page shouldn't have an issue with the earthy Pentacles. But we know something bad has to happen due to the Page's presence, because we're ending up much lower than where we started.

One way we can interpret this is that because of the Page's actions (or inaction), the earthy, Pentacles part of your life is going to "reset" down to basics.

When looking for what meanings to apply to each card, we are probably going to want to look for the more fiery and active meanings for each earth card, and the more grounded and earthy meanings for the Page (as they all bleed into each other).

Moving on to the 3/Cups (R) [main goal], 10/Cups (R) [main accomplishment], and Queen/Cups (R) [what to avoid].

Note that in the first triad, you started with a 10 and ended with a 3. Here, the spread is telling you that your main goal is a 3, but you're going to accomplish a 10.

All these cards are watery. It's intense but not necessarily bad. Consider that because the 3 and the 10 are both Cups, and the Queen of Cups can be interpreted as the advisor and guide of that suite, you may be receiving advice to not try and master or control this situation.

In other words, perhaps trying to take control of this situation and resolve it to your own satisfaction is only prolonging an inevitable process of change.

We can also note that the Queen is your highest-ranking court card (no kings on the spread). Not only this but Water cards outweigh every other element. We can surmise that the Queen of Cups has a great deal of authority - and perhaps, trying to wield her authority to achieve the watery 10 when you should be going for the 3 is the wrong choice.

(Using this same type of analysis, the Knight has less authority than the Queen, but more than the Page - the Page being the lowest-ranking, and having only one other fire card in the spread to manage.)

Still within this triad, we see an escalation. The low-# 3 jumps up to a 10, and then a Queen. This shows a growing intensity in this emotional, watery, symbolic triad (whereas in the earthy physical reality triad above, we saw a decrease due to a fiery intrusion).

When choosing the meanings for each cards, the most intensely watery meaings are likely the most appropriate (as opposed to meanings better assigned to a different element).

Now looking at the 3/Swords (R) [what to embrace], Knight/Pentacles (R) [where to find support], and Hanged Man (R) [advice].

Again, we see a pattern of 3s: end up with a 3, your main goal is a 3, embrace a 3. A numerological investigation into the number 3 might be of great assistance to you at this time (especially consider its connotations of new growth and rebuilding).

Here we have the first elemental clash. The airy 3/Swords doesn't get along well with the earthy Knight/Pentacles. Here, the Knight has a lot more power than the small 3, but the elements are oppositional - the Knight has no real authority over it. Then we arrive at the Hanged Man, which like a Knight is also a #12 card in its series.

We're about to jump into analysis, but let's plug in one more thing first. The three of swords is the only air card you have in this entire spread. It's the only suit without a Court ruler to step in and influence things.

We might consider here that given the mental associations of air, you must embrace processing the loss that will arrive - and do so with the support of the Knight who will take you there.

The Knight of Pentacles is ruling over the same suit that is telling you how your month will start and end. You are told to avoid the queen of cups, the suit that takes from the goal of 3 to the actual accomplishment of the 10 - and you are told to get support from the Knight of Pentacles, the suit that takes you from the current 10 to the ending of 3.

I see a strong implication based on this analysis (again, an example analysis since I don't now how your real spread actually looked) that the 3s appear to be important and beneficial, while the 10s appear to be something you should move away from.

Lastly in this triad, we can see that the Hanged Man is a watery card. Given that the all-cups triad appears to be something to avoid, we might consider that the Hanged Man is encouraging reflection on how you think about your entire relationship situation - that you might be having things upside-down.

Three cards indicating major events: Empress (R), 10/Wands (R), 5/Cups (R)

As you well know, Anon, the Empress is the #3 card of her series. This gives her a very strong link to the earthy 3/Pentacles (R).

Here we have the second and final elemental clash: fire flows into water.

Imagining a number graph, we start at 3, jump up to 10, and middle out with a 5 at the end. Although the earthy Empress and fiery 10 are usually friends, we know something is wrong here because the series is terminated by a watery card that clashes with fire.

Therefore, we are free to look towards the more burdensome and oppressive meanings of the 10 of Wands.

We can also reflect on the strong association between 3s and 10s in this spread.

Well, enough has been meandered on. Using all of the information and analysis above, we might come out to something like the following interpretations (again, spitballing as I don't know what system of meanings you're using):

[Empress/10 Wands/5 Cups] A big event: The part of you that wants to care for and nurture relationships is going to run into an intensely burdensome situation which will result in emotional burnout and the feeling of loss.

[10 Pentacles/Page Wands/3 Pentacles] Beginning, Theme, End: The part of your life that wants to uphold and maintain your personal "tribe" is going to experience a fiery intrusion or filtration that requires you to reduce and return to a student's mindset of beginning and rebuilding.

[note the strong similarities between these 2 triads!]

[3 Cups/10 Cups/Queen Cups] Goal, accomplishment, what to avoid: While your primary goal is to return to a reduced and simplified place, you will actually still choose the unwieldy, burdensome 10; the Queen is unwilling (or perhaps unable) to make any other choice, so she should be avoided.

[3/Swords/Knight Pentacles/Hanged Man]: Embrace, support, advice: Embrace the rational reality of loss in this situation, and rely on responsible, practical behaviors to help guide you to your goal. It will help if you are able to view this situation in an entirely new light.

This has gotten far too long, so just a last few words:

Here are some of my personal notes for the Judgement card:

Upright. Generally. Resolution or final determination of a matter. The end of things. Mundane. The ending of the matter is soon at hand. It is necessary for you to make a decision, one way or another. You should judge the situation for yourself. You are at a crossroads; things will go one way or the other.

As far as reversals go, we might make any number of assumptions. My initial assumption was that you are being yelled at, and this was the best way to tell you Something Is Up without having you discard the spread due to too many reversals.

An abundance of reversals might be your own refusal or inability to see certain aspects of this situation.

I often read reversals as "you don't or can't believe this right now."

It might be a way of saying that while many of the cards (and the elemental portents themselves) are just fine (actually, great portents for the whole spread elementally speaking), the whole thing is going to end up kind of sucking anyway.

Keep an eye out for when your own willpower rears its head and chooses to Make A Decision. This would appear to be related to the Page of Wands and the 10 of Wands; both are immense catalysts of change in this spread.

Hope this helps, Anon. best of luck.

[aliensunflower-fics]

The Interview

[ Did I seriously take time away from writing requests and part twos of things JUST to write a fic where Marinette Flambé‘s Gabriel until he’s nothing but a dirty little lump of coal? Yes. Yes I did. Enjoy! ]

Gabriel Agreste would call himself a practical man. He had never been one for frivolous things. And he believed this was a good thing. His straight and to the point nature meant no gift would go unused, no conversation would drag on, his time would never be wasted. And his designs reflected this practical and sharp point of view. Or so he believed.

Gabriel Agreste would also call himself a realist. He knew full well he was the villain, and he knew full well the damage he had done and was doing. But it did not bother him, he was selfish and sentimental at least concerning his wife. And he wanted it all. The wife, the business, the perfect son, the house. All of it.

And that was why Gabriel Agreste wanted Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She was brilliant, creative, determined, and quick on her feet. Each time he'd been near her he could feel the power she radiated her flurry of untapped potential and raw emotion swirling like a tumultuous ocean. Yes, Gabriel needed Marinette to become his most awe-inspiring destructive, and terrifying Akuma, the one who would finally level Paris and rip the Miraculous off of those pesky heroes once and for all! And who knows, if she succeeded perhaps Gabriel would give her the privilege of being his apprentice in his new perfect world. Her designs had been pretty good and he was nothing if not practical.

There was of course one, tinsy tiny problem however with Marinette Dupain-Cheng. And that was to put it simply that she was perhaps TOO brilliant, creative, determined, and quick on her feet. Every time he thought he finally had her something would go wrong! First, it was that useless excuse for a ‘teacher’ getting in the way, then Mayura failed him! Then Marinette had seemingly caught on and adapted! Bullied? Nope, she thought positive thoughts and spent time with friends. Property destroyed? She’d fix it and make it nicer than before! Lied about? She'd clear her name by the end of the day! Stolen from? She’d always find a fix! Each and every attempt was simply a hurdle the girl overcame!

Even Lila and Adrien had failed him! The sausage headed brat had been trying to crack Marinette near religiously but she had yet to produce real results, if she framed the girl some proof would appear to clear her, if she bullied the girl Marinette would simply walk away to calm down, physical assault had not even been enough to break her. And Adrien… Well, he had no idea that his father was trying to manipulate him so his failures were at least forgivable but even then nothing he did worked. He’d tried several times to produce a jealousy akuma out of Marinette pairing his own son off with Kagami and occasionally even letting the Italian leech hang off his son but Marinette never budged, it wasn’t that she wasn’t jealous or even angry it was just that she cared too much for other people, with Kagami the baker girl had backed off and even aided out in their budding relationship her feelings of kindness and friendship out shadowing her jealousy. And with Lila? Well, Marinette was more concerned with Adrien’s emotional and physical well-being, and after seeing what the liar’s fake nails had done to his son's arms Gabriel could understand why. As a last resort, Gabriel had tried forbidding Adrien from ever seeing the girl again hoping that would do it, but not even 5 minutes later he had undone the command when Adrien threatened to quit modeling and blast his father on social media… Needless to say, Gabriel wasn’t sure where his son had gotten the backbone for such a move but he felt like blaming Marinette for that as well.

Yes. Gabriel Agreste had tried everything to akumatize Marinette Dupain-Cheng and nothing had worked. Now at 17, the girl was still going strong showing no cracks in her armor. Well… He had tried ALMOST everything. There was one thing, one last little thing he had yet to try… And that was ruining the young girl's dream. Now Gabriel did not truly wish to squash such talent, but of course, he didn’t really NEED to. Yes, it was perfect. He would invite the youngest Dupain-Cheng into his home for an interview with a prospective internship on the line. He would warm her up by poking and prodding at her design portfolio, then he would accuse her of stealing the designs from Lila Rossi, and finally, he would claim to be blacklisting her entirely from the very world of fashion! No doubt THAT the very destruction of her dreams would finally produce the Akuma he needed to secure victory. If she succeeded he would favor her in his new perfect world as a reward, and if she failed… Well then he could claim he had ‘seen the truth’ while she was akumatized and undo the damage, there was no sense in actually ruining the girls promising career after all.

With his plan set Gabriel ordered Nathalie to make the arrangements. Come Saturday afternoon Marinette Dupain-Cheng would finally be akumatized.

However, Gabriel was hit with his first surprise, or perhaps his first ‘warning’ when Nathalie entered his office to inform him that Saturday was NOT on the table. In a shocking and rare turn, Marinette had somehow negotiated Nathalie to schedule the interview for Friday instead. Forcing the assistant to re-organize Gabriel’s entire schedule. When Gabriel had asked why this had happened Nathalie had seemed unlike herself, flustered and unsure, apparently Marinette had been very firm about having very important Saturday plans she would not even consider changing and had stated simply and sharply that her only free time would be Friday this week or Gabriel would need to wait another two weeks for her next availability. Hearing that was a shock, Gabriel had NEVER once needed to reschedule himself for others! No! They rescheduled for HIM. But fine, perhaps the sentimental girl had some idiotic family get together she felt she could not say no to it didn’t really matter in fact Friday meant he’d get his Akuma an entire day earlier. Fine then, Friday it was.

The second surprise had come Friday itself. When Miss Marinette Dupain-Cheng arrived perfectly on time. Gabriel was the one caught with his pants down as he had expected the girl to be late with what Adrien had told him of the girl's tardiness record. He and Nathalie were left scrambling to get the office in order while Marinette sat in the hall. Gabriel would review the security footage later and note that the young designer did not gawk or stare at his opulent manor but rather eyed everything critically and with an air of absolute boredom as if she had a million other things she would rather be doing. Had Gabriel seen this expression on the young woman's face beforehand he might have noted it as his second warning that things were not going to go as he expected them to.

Finally, the office looked impeccable and Nathalie invited the young woman in. Gabriel stood behind his desk, his face an emotionless mask but his mind reaching out using the magic granted to him by Nooroo to feel for the young woman's emotions so he could better guide this in the way he desired. However when the young woman entered he was not overcome by the tsunami of nerves and emotions he expected rather it was like an ice front had hit his office. Gabriel was shocked, he could not for the life of him read the girl she was a perfect wall of flawless gleaming ice with no cracks for him to exploit, even her eyes which he had seen in photos and through his Akuma's vision were not what he expected. In every picture, Adrien had tried to show him the young woman's eyes were warm and sweet but now those bluebell orbs had frosted over regarding him with a sharp and pointed stare as if she could read his thoughts. As the two exchanged pleasantries and shook hands Gabriel waited for her to situate herself before he did the same taking a second to share a brief glance with Nathalie who seemed just as confused and put off by the young woman's behavior as he was.

Feeling nervous Gabriel decided to open with some small talk hoping to find a crack that would allow him to feel the young woman's emotions so he politely asked a question about how she'd been. She responded curtly and politely that she was fine but busy, he asked about her parents and their business, she cooly responded that they were opening a second location, finally, he complimented her outfit asking if she designed it herself. He expected to feel SOMETHING from the girl exhilaration at being complimented by someone she admired, nervous about him pointing it out, anything! Instead, the wall of ice remained cool and shimmering as ever as she told him that she had indeed designed the outfit herself and that she was pleased it met his standards. And it did, she wore silky black palazzo pants that flowed gently at the bottom but was clearly tailored to her exact centimeter around her hips, her top had some clear Asian inspirations with a modern twist, it was flawlessly fitted but seemed comfortable and easy to move in. It was white with pink and gold hand painted sakura flowers and some embroidery detailing that were certainly done by hand, to match she had pink lips and pristine white heels, her hair was down but perfectly in place, she was the very image of a professional confidant woman all at the young age of 17.

They chatted a while longer with Gabriel asking her about her design process and if she’d painted on the details of her shirt but still there was no crack in the ice keeping her emotions from Gabriel’s prying mind. The only emotion he could read from the girl was in her body language and it was clear she was losing her patience as Gabriel avoided the reason she was here. Clearing his throat awkwardly and sparing another quick glance at Nathalie who looked just as lost as himself. He finally settled in his chair and they began.

It was a rather standard interview at first, as Gabriel did not want to play his cards too quickly and was hoping that if he was patient the ice guarding the woman's emotions would thaw. He asked to see her sketches while they spoke and she easily handed over a professional-looking sketchbook, as he flipped through it he would occasionally pause to ask questions about her design process or inspiration, they were lovely sketches and truthfully Gabriel was hard-pressed to find anything wrong with them, but for the sake of his plan, he acted unimpressed and even critical of her designs. If it bothered her, she made no show of it much to Gabriel’s annoyance. He began to press harder, asking her if she could truly handle an internship under someone of his caliber, then he asked what her grades were, how he could trust her around his son as he’d heard some unsavory rumors about her character from a trustworthy employee. If anything he said bothered her, she never let it show her face a cool mask of professional disinterest. Gabriel tried not to grind his teeth, this was NOT going as he planned, as he prepared to accuse her of stealing Lila’s designs the young designer held up her hand to silence him.

“Monsieur Agreste, you have been asking a lot of questions. May I ask one of my own?”

Her voice was calm but Gabriel could hear the tiniest bit of ice in her tone. Perhaps his prodding was working after all. Either way, he nodded for her to continue, she straightened just the littlest bit before settling Gabriel with an icy look.

“I would like to know why you believe YOU are qualified to be my mentor.”

Gabriel blinked once. Then twice. He was quite sure his mouth was open in shock. He glanced again at Nathalie; his assistant seemed to be mirroring his own feelings and expressions. Finally, he swallowed and his mouth felt dry.

“Pardon me?” The girl in front of him blinked at him as if he were a rather idiotic child.

“I asked: WHY do you think you're qualified to mentor me. Monsieur Agreste.” Her voice was pure ice now and he suppressed a shiver.

He sat up straighter leveling the girl with an icy look of his own trying not to let his shock show.

“And what makes you think it is acceptable to ask me such a question Miss Dupain-Cheng?”

“Well… This is an interview is it not? Did you think I would simply agree to work for you without checking if you are up to my standards?”

Gabriel suppressed a strangled sound of insult as the red hot feeling of anger rose within him as he absorbed the young woman's words. But even still he could not suppress all of it.

“I beg your pardon!” She gave him a critical look but altogether a bored one.

“I do not mean to offend, Monsieur Agreste. But you are not the first to offer me an internship, currently, I have about 5 different offers on my table, the most notable being with the Style Queen herself and La Mode’s head designer Edna. I want to make an… Educated decision. And frankly, the only reason I am here today is as a favor to your son Adrien, who asked me to give you a chance. So again I will ask, what makes YOU Gabriel Agreste more qualified to mentor me, than Audrey Bourgeois or Edna Mode?”

Gabriel was left feeling very much like he had been caught with his pants down. Marinette Dupain-Cheng already had other offers? And with the top jewels of the fashion world's crown?! How? When!? Surely if Miss Dupain-Cheng had made any significant leaps in the world of fashion he and Nathalie would know about it… Right? I mean, true he had taken a step back from the world in his pursuit of the Miraculous and perhaps he had not been as involved in his own business lately. But he had both Lila and Nathalie on the outside yet they had said nothing about the young girl and her fashion career. Frantically searching for something to say to get the interview back on track and heading the way he wanted Gabriel’s eyes landed on the colorful designer bag Marinette had with her. He had noticed it seemed tailor-made to go with her outfit now taking a closer look at it he noticed the subtle detail of ‘MDC’ in golden lettering. No… No, he could not have missed it. Nathalie could not have missed it! MDC was known as Jagged Stone’s and Clara Nightingale's personal designer the mysterious presence had been a thorn in Gabriel’s side snatching his more famous clientele. But now it was clear. MDC was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. The girl he’d been planning to threaten with a fashion world blacklist and accusations of falsifying her designs was his up and coming competitor. Gabriel swallowed thickly trying to think of how he could spin this situation in his favor now. Nathalie who was unaware that MDC was sitting in front of him could offer no help.

“Well, Miss Dupain-Cheng as I'm sure you are aware, I was once very much in the same situation as yourself, I built my own company from the ground up after I was done training with my own mentor. I could show you how a successful business is built up and run. And I could help you polish your designs.”

The girl nodded thoughtfully and pulled out a small notebook and pen scribbling down something he could not see. Gabriel ignored Nathalie’s looks of confusion and his own growing anger. This was not how he wanted things to go but knowing what he now knew he needed to play his cards carefully, perhaps he could get the girl to intern under him then wear her down until she became possible to akumatize? Yes, that might work! Marinette cleared her throat and Gabriel focused on her again.

“So you could give me an excellent perspective on building my own business and running it… I assume this means you have a plan to get your own business back from the brink of failure then?”

Gabriel choked. His eyes near bulging out of his head as his mind fought to comprehend what had just been said. Marinette for her part simply arched a well-maintained eyebrow in response.

“I do apologize if that was direct. It's just… Well looking at your sales numbers in recent seasons shows a continuing decline in sales, not to mention the number of celebrities seen wearing Gabriel originals has dropped significantly. I will not be interning on a sinking ship Monsieur Agreste surely you understand?”

A quick glance to Nathalie gave him a nod of confirmation that the young woman's words were true. He hadn’t even noticed…

“Of course I have a plan to increase sales. I have been taking a… Creative break. So to speak in order to properly mourn my wife and come up with fresh new ideas.”

It was a bald-faced lie that had crawled its way out of his throat and through his teeth. But it seemed to satisfy the young designer who scribbled a few more notes down before again returning her icy gaze to his face.

“I assume this plan also involves cleaning up the rampant abuse your company is known for then?”

“EXCUSE ME?!” It was Nathalie that time, her face pale and her eyes wide though Gabriel very much agreed with the sentiment.

“Oh? Your secretary was unaware? Hm.” The designer jotted something down continuing to speak as she wrote. “It’s well known in the world of fashion, you have mass turn over in your employee’s they complain that you don't take accusations of sexual assault seriously, that your harsh and overly demanding on your employee’s, that you foster an environment in which abusers and bullies can easily get their way. And that's not even touching on the rumors surrounding the pedophilia, sex scandals, and your abusive behavior toward your own son.”

At those words, Gabriel could take no more his chair let out a screech as he leaped up and slammed his hand down on his desk the loud bang ringing out through the room. To her credit, Marinette did not jump or flinch at the sudden noise. Nathalie however, did.

“That is quite enough Miss Dupain-Cheng! I will not have you coming into my home leveling such blatant and false accusations about my business and personal life!”

The young designer's eyes became impossibly icier and she stood calmly flipping her little notepad closed as she leveled Gabriel with a glare that sent ice into his spine and made him swallow. He swore the room temperature somehow went below zero yet he felt the need to remove his jacket, his body feeling impossibly hot and sweaty.

“In that case. I think I've seen everything I need to make my decision. Do not contact me again Monsieur Agreste I have no interest in maintaining any business relations with a man of your… Type.”

Her words were pure venom yet still he felt no anger coming from her, and now she was trying to leave all at once Gabriel found reality slapping him in the face. His Akuma, his glorious Akuma the one that would lead to his victory he NEEDED it. Nathalie as if reading his mind stepped in front of the door, blocking the young woman's path, Gabriel took a calming breath and fixed his tie. He needed to refocus on the task at hand, he had let the girl get to him but no more he would get the upper hand he WOULD get his Akuma.

“I am afraid we are not done here yet Miss Dupain-Cheng. You see we still have yet to discuss the REAL reason I called you here today.” He didn’t miss a beat, didn't give the girl time to interject. “You see one of my models. A Miss Lila Rossi, claims that you have stolen her designs from her. And having looked at your sketchbook I can now confirm her suspicions. I do wonder what your other potential mentors would think of you being a thief.”

It was a risky lie. Well… Not completely. Lila Rossi had tried to claim Marinette’s work as her own a few times before. Obviously Gabriel never believed the girl, but right now the Italians lie’s were ones he was willing to overlook if it got him what he wanted. And he was sure it was, as finally, the snappy icy Miss Dupain-Cheng was frozen, her expression hidden by her hair but her stiff body was trembling ever so slightly. Finally, Gabriel was back in control.

The girl's body trembled more and more and Gabriel briefly wondered if she was crying or shaking with rage but then he heard it... She was making an odd sound that was growing louder until Gabriel realized what it was… Marinette was laughing. It wasn’t a normal sort of laugh, rather it was a hollow dark sound the type of laugh that belonged to villains in cartoons the type of laugh that sent dread into a person's body, and all at once, the victorious smirk on Nathalie and Gabriel’s faces dropped as Marinette laughed louder and harder. When she finished she wiped tears from her eyes before she settled her icy glare back onto Gabriel a sinister smirk playing on her lips.

“Can I get that in writing Monsieur Agreste?” If she sounded venomous before she sounded downright deadly now. But Gabriel held himself tall and firm.

“This is not a joke Miss Dupain-Cheng. I will not tolerate you stealing from my company.”

“Oh, I am being serious Monsieur Agreste. Do you think this is the first time Rossi has tried to play this game with me?” She scoffed. “Please. I have grown used to her childish ways. Last time I sent my lawyer with a cease and desist order to her house. But if you believe your little ‘muse’ so much then it seems I will need to hit her a little harder to make my message crystal clear. I don’t have much tolerance for liars, Monsieur Agreste least of all little gold-digging ones.”

“M-My muse?” Gabriel suddenly felt a part of his stomach drop. Something about what was just said was clearly very wrong.

“Yes. Your ‘muse’ that's what Lila has been calling herself since she began working for you two years ago. Where do you think the rumors of pedophilia came from Monsieur Agreste?” He choked, but she only hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps you should be more careful who you hire. Especially considering how she sexually assaults your son. But you already knew about THAT and didn’t fire her. So perhaps she really IS your ‘muse’ then.”

Gabriel could hear the unspoken threat in her words daring him to push the issue and face her wrath and knew he was now playing a very dangerous game. He had known that Lila enjoyed hanging off his son and he had told her off about the wounds she left with her nails and that had stopped, but even after that Adrien had tried to speak with him a few times about Lila but he’d ignored it she was too useful as an ally, but now she may have ended up being his Trojan horse. And if the gleam in Marinette’s eyes and the dangerous smile on her lips was anything to go by the young designer knew it. Nathalie was looking paler the longer this went on. Gabriel knew he needed to save himself now, Akuma be damned he’d be useless to his wife if he lost everything before managing to bring her back.

He cleared his throat. “Now… Perhaps I have been a bit... Hasty? In my accusation of you Miss Dupain-Cheng. I was unaware of Miss Rossi’s dubious nature and words. Or her actions toward my son, perhaps you would consid-”

“How DARE you!” All at once, he was hit with the raw force of Marinette’s emotions, her hot boiling anger overcoming him and knocking out his breath. But just as swift as it came the wall of ice consumed them sealing it away once more. “You have a lot of nerve pretending you knew nothing, Monsieur Agreste. When I know for a fact your son and several of your employees have come to you begging and pleading to be listened to. So either you are lying to my face or you really are just that much of a pathetic excuse for a ‘father’.”

He sputtered trying to defend himself, even Nathalie could no longer stand by stepping forward to try and help his defense.

“Oh please. You are a JOKE, Monsieur Agreste. As Adrien’s close friend I know very well the kind of father- no the kind of MAN you are. You are a cold, abusive, manipulative, worm. You ignore your son, neglect him, and treat him as no more than a mannequin for your clothes. The only reason your business hasn’t gone under yet is because you whore your own son out banking on his popularity to keep yourself afloat.”

Gabriel felt anger and a rare sense of shame rush him all at once as he desperately choked out a reply determined to defend himself. Nathalie stepped forward readying herself to help him but he managed to get out his reply before she needed to offer her help.

“I-I am doing no such thing! I love my son and would never allow any harm to come to him!”

Marinette seemed completely unconvinced. Humming thoughtfully she tilted her head to the side locking Gabriel in her cold gaze.

“In that case perhaps you could tell me what you got him for his last birthday? Here’s a hint he didn’t even get a cake or a happy birthday from you.”

Gabriel stuttered stunned that he was being challenged in such a way he glanced to Nathalie looking to her for help but Marinette stepped in the way blocking his view.

“No? Too hard for you? Then perhaps you could tell me when you last had dinner with him?” Nothing. “Hm. Ok, what about when you last spoke with him about something besides his classes, his job, or his extracurriculars?” Nothing. “Oh, then what's your son's favorite food? Or color? What does he want to do when he’s finally 18 and free from you? Does he want to go to college? Does he even LIKE wearing your tacky awful clothing?” Silence. “Nothing huh… Here il go real easy on you. When was the last time you gave your son a hug?” Gabriel stuttered but he was at a loss for words. He didn’t know. “The last hug YOU gave him was several years ago. When I won your bowler hat competition. You haven’t even touched your own son in years, yet you have the nerve to claim you love him? That you seek to protect him? That you would NEVER have let Lila Rossi molest him near constantly had you simply ‘known’ about it.” She crossed her arms. “I am. Unconvinced. Monsieur Agreste.”

Each word was a pointed blade aiming for Gabriel, cutting him down smaller and smaller until he felt like an insect under the young girl's gaze. Yet she offered him no mercy only staring him down as if he were the scum of the earth. And right now, he felt like he very well might be. Nathalie who had been at the ready finally stepped in leveling Marinette with an icy glare of her own, though compared to the designers it was more lukewarm than anything.

“Monsieur Agreste is a very busy businessman, who has been mourning the loss of his wife!”

Marinette scoffed her icy blue eyes roaming up and down his assistant while her face morphed into a look of disgust.

“Of course YOU would defend him Miss Sancoeur. After all, you are complicit in Adrien’s abuse. Feeding him the equivalent of table scraps so he can stay the perfect malnourished model that you both need to fill your bank accounts with cash. And that is not even broaching on the fact that Adrien is quite sure you share his father's bed when you think he's not looking. After all POOR Monsieur Agreste needs some kind of warmth to ‘mourn’ his wife with while he leaves his son to become more and more emotionally damaged.”

It was Nathalie’s turn to be left a gaping, her face impossibly red with shame at the blatant accusation. In fact, neither Nathalie nor Gabriel knew how to defend themselves now. This was so far from how they had foreseen this interview going that they had nothing left with which to defend themselves with. Marinette Dupain-Cheng however seemed far from finished in fact she seemed like she was just getting warmed up.

“Listen Monsieur Agreste, I once admired your work but I now have no choice but to agree with Madame Bourgeois, you have let the death of your wife sour you into a rotten waste of a man, your designs are lackluster, cold and only look good on mannequins, your business is failing, your employees hate you, your neglectful and abusive of the only family you have left, and your stupid enough to have threatened my future career on the lies of a gold digger. I came here today only because I am a close friend of your son who begged me to give you a chance in the hopes I could help salvage your failing company. But I cannot, and I will not work with a man who is as selfish and repulsive as you.”

Checking her watch Marinette let out an annoyed hum clearly she was not pleased with how long this interview had taken. Sidestepping Nathalie who was still struggling to find the words to defend herself. She made her way to the door pausing once her hand was on the handle.

“Oh and Monsieur Agreste. If you're still determined to call yourself a fashion designer… Then the least you could do is stop dressing yourself like a candy cane themed board game mascot, found at a cheap dollar store. It’s an insult to fashion, and I’d even go so far to say that Hawkmoth has made nicer looking Akuma’s and those look like discount cartoon villains from the ’80s. Now do have a good rest of your day. And look out for my lawyers, they will be coming around sometime soon.”

And with that, she was gone. Leaving Gabriel to slump into his seat and hold his head, while Nathalie shakily took the seat across from him that Marinette had just occupied. The secretary was heavily reconsidering her life choices, perhaps her sister had been right when she said Nathalie needed a nice long vacation away somewhere sunny and warm and far from Gabriel to re-evaluate her priorities.

Gabriel however was re-evaluating his life in a much different way as everything that the young woman threw at him sunk into his head. He believed himself a practical man yet Marinette Dupain-Cheng had utterly disassembled his plan, his life, and his actions leaving him feeling like a schoolyard bully who’d just been put in time out by the teacher. He believed himself a realist, yet Marinette Dupain-Cheng had been the one to rip the wool from his eyes and force him to face the ugly reality that he ignored, his business was collapsing, his employees were either jumping ship or were utterly convinced they could get away with blatant abuse, his wife had been comatose for years, his son quite possibly hated him and when he graduated would take his leave destroying the only thing that left his business a fighting chance, and to top it all off he was wearing RED PANTS.

Leaning back in his chair he stared at his ceiling in a hazy state of fleeting thoughts. All he could think was that it has been one hell of an interview.

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[van-zieksy]

So, a post I saw about wine barrels reminded me of something I've been contemplating and I would love to see your opinion on it. If things were different and Barok's life had never fallen apart (his family is still alive, no one calls him the Reaper, etc.) do you think he would still have all those wine barrels in his office? Or were those a result of his grief and need to control something in this life? Would something else take their place? I'm curious to know your thoughts!

Hello baroksfacescar,

It’s always good to hear from my favourite scar in the world. ;-)

Lord Barok van Zieks is a very meticulous person, or as others who try to tease him – like Kazuma or Iris – prefer to call it: anal. Rearranging the wine barrels in his office is just something he does because it’s exactly as Kazuma says: he hasn’t found the perfect way to arrange them yet (and he probably never will, because there simply is no perfect system). Why does Barok even care so much about such a seemingly minuscule matter? We first need to reflect on who Barok is in order to answer this question.

Barok is ten years younger than Klint, which is a pretty significant age gap. As a result, even when Barok was just a child, he has lived in the shadows of his big brother – the heir to the Van Zieks estate – who had already accomplished so much in life because he had age on his side. Young Barok has been a wonderful person in his own right, but he was too focused on Klint to see it. The result was that he subconsciously searched for something that he could excel at. Something that needed him. Something that wouldn’t be able to thrive without him. Barok is also a lover of all things beautiful. He’s always perfectly dressed, with lots of attention to ornaments and intricate details. He carries himself with dignity, every movement, every gesture carefully orchestrated. His office is neatly arranged; everything has its place. Even the bats have their own designated area, which they are only allowed to leave when heading out for the night to do their batsy, nocturnal things.

When our young lord was introduced to his family’s vineyards, it became love at first sight. Here he had found something that would not only complement his meticulous, perfectionist nature, it was also something that would allow him to tweak it to his own liking and turn it into something truly beautiful. The vineyards provided him with the peace and the serenity the hectic life in London full of social obligations could not offer him. He didn’t mind socialising, but he always preferred being alone with his thoughts, which is also why he’s well-read. He went on to compose his own fine wine brand and found an artisan who would create his gorgeous chalices. Had his family not owned vineyards, it’s quite possible that his passion would have turned out to be something entirely different.

After his family’s death, Barok turned to wine as a safe haven. When he’s alone in his manor, he sometimes drinks more than he should, sadly. Even in court, where he fills his chalices up to seven times, he sometimes overindulges himself (unless one of the defence attorneys is not doing their job properly, then he tends to crush them instead). But alcohol just doesn’t affect him anymore; he’s so used to it. He tries to re-live those moments of tranquility from a long gone past, but of course they will never return. Yet every time he finds himself strolling through his vineyards, hand-picking his own grapes for his special creations, he is able to regain at least some of his strength.

Due to his very particular nature and issues with trust, London’s famed prosecutor would never entrust anyone else with the task of arranging his barrels. What if someone did something unsavoury to them, maybe even tried to inflict harm on him (as has happened before when he was poisoned)? Something so precious is only allowed to be touched by him. Re-arranging them is his way of meditating after a hard day at the Old Bailey. He keeps some of the barrels in his office so he has access to them while at work and because it allows him to unwind before returning home to his big, lonely manor. A headcanon of mine is that he even neatly arranged his own books in his own grand library at home. Yes, he even rearranges them every so often because how does one properly arrange books? By alphabet, by author, by genre, by year of release…? It’s a never-ending task.

Barok would drink less had his life turned out differently, but he would still be as anal, ehm meticulous, about his wine and arrange his own things. The only difference between Barok pre-trauma and present-day Barok is that the arranging of his barrels affords him the chance to momentarily forget about some of the sadness that is plaguing him. What’s more concerning to me is that this man is able to lift approximately 270kg – or 600lbs – all by himself. He claims to be no demigod, but something just doesn’t seem right about that. No wonder he’s an Adonis.

With my kindest regards,

Zieksy

[carbondioxidewater]

No caption for this, I just hope you enjoy ⚘

(Btw I'm sorry if there are any mistakes, English is not my first language and that's my first experience with actually writing things myself. Plus after writing my brain is too exhausted to detect mistakes I'd usually notice🥲)

@karamatsus 🐈‍⬛

Summary: A story of Tobirama and you being in love with each other without knowing the feelings of the other one, then both being put into arranged marriages with others. (info: female s/o)

Warnings: none

Taking Too Long (Pt. 4)

Sleeping this night was difficult. Obviously, you couldn't wait for the next day to happen, finally engaging to the man that's been staying in your heart for so long, but exactly this was one of the reasons for your sleepless night. You were just too excited to fall asleep, and besides, you were still thinking about the day and it's surprises, re-playing the events again and again in the back of your head. It was a day full of up's and down's, but it ended in the most perfect way you could've ever imagined.

After two years of hiding your feelings and not knowing if this would ever change, you finally heard the words you've only heard in your deepest dreams. You were so happy, you thought your heart would explode at any moment. There were so many emotions inside of you: happiness, excitement, nervousness, even a little fear, but on top of it all - love. And you were so in love in this moment, thinking about nothing but today and your future with him, already fantasizing about your upcoming wedding, your life together, your work together. There will be so many new experiences.

And your face reddened the moment you thought about your first kiss with him. You thought of this moment many times in your life so far, and now it's not even out of reach anymore, it's not a day dream you see when you look into the sky when taking a break from your paperwork, or when you have some free time on a mission. Not a fake scenario you make up in your head at night because you're so frustrated. This time, it will become real and this thought actually made you anxious for a second.

But then you just thought of him in general again, his shadow appearing in front of you, and with it the words he said to you today, causing this shadow to clear up and show his whole detailed illusion in front of you. You were giggling, even screaming into your pillow and it took you so long to calm down and fall asleep, but after some time, your eyes were just too heavy for you.

You woke up with the same excitement you had gone to bed with the night before when soon you realized that the moment of breaking Haruki's heart came nearer every second that passed. With a weird feeling inside your guts, you made your breakfast, ate it silently, and got on your way. When you left your house to go over to Haruki's, one of his teammates came up to you with a pressing information. He told you that Haruki had gone on a sudden mission - these were orders from above - and that he as his teammate would follow him right after talking to you. Haruki sent him to give this message to you because he couldn't come himself.

You were shocked to hear that, thinking about how you wouldn't be able to cut off the engagement now and also worrying about this sudden, even urgent seeming mission. You nodded hastily and shouted out a quick "I understood." prior to wishing him luck and telling him to pass this message on to Haruki too before he left. You sighed and a bad feeling made up in your heart. Was that really supposed to be the beginning of your luck, already having those complications and delays? You shook off those thoughts and decided to go and have a talk with Tobirama about it.

You went up to his house, finding nothing but empty rooms, he was nowhere to be found. Then you went to his office, but he wasn't there either.

Was he already at Tsugumi's?

You went up to Hashirama's office and asked him about it, and he confirmed your suspicion.

You didn't want to go up to Tsugumi's house obviously, if you were in her position, you wouldn't want your manstealer to come up to you and take him after being dumped, so you just went around the village trying to keep a cool head. Then finally, Tobirama and you crossed paths.

"(Y/N), there you are." He called you.

"Tobirama, we have a problem!" You directly addressed the topic.

"Haruki is on a mission, I know." Your formerly open mouth shut instantly. Apparently you didn't have to inform him about it.

"Don't worry, the delay doesn't matter. In fact, it's more reasonable to cut off the engagement at different times, this way it comes off less blatantly." he further becalmed.

"You're right. So you already talked to Tsugumi?", you wondered, and he nodded in response. "How did she take it?"

"Surprisingly good, she didn't take actions against it. I didn't even need to tell her the reasons, she already knew herself. It was quite embarassing, but at least went without problems. She's going to talk to her parents about it soon, and then we'll all have a talk together to cut it off officially."

You felt relieved by those words and assured him to do the same to your engagement once Haruki returns.

"We'll have to be discrete about it for now. We can't allow ourselves to act openly until everything is settled.", he reminded you and you nodded in agreement. This was not how you imagined the day, but at least you found solutions for all your complications.

It's just a short delay, you thought, nothing bad with it. It'll be worth all the stress in the end.

Tobirama seemed to sense your inner turmoil and touched your left shoulder softly in attempt to bring you to look up to him.

"Don't worry so much. We're going to be alright, I'll do anything needed to personally make sure of that."

The spot on your shoulder fluttered under his touch, but his words comforted you enough for you to smile at him warmly.

The days passed and Haruki came back earlier than expected. But this was not quite as good as you thought the first moment. When you heard he and his team were back, you ran up to the Hokage's building since he was, as usual, expected to give report about the happenings. On your way you sensed the odd tension in the village. Everyone was upset, you hadn't seen them like this since Madara's attack back then. You wondered what has happened on the mission that resulted in this riot, and you would find out soon. When Haruki left the building, he ran into your arms and took you into a tight hug.

"(Y/N)...we are at war. It couldn't be prevented."

So that's what the mission was about...All of sudden, you felt something wet dropping down your shoulders. It was tears.

"...My father died on this mission."

Your eyes widened, and without hesitating, you held him closer to you, tightening the grip around his torso to pull him into a way deeper embrace.

Later in his house - you accompanied him since you couldn't possibly leave him alone in his vulnerable state - you made some food for you two and prepared his bed for him. When you proceeded to go, he packed your arm.

"(Y/N), can you stay this night?", he asked and you turned around in perplexity.

"You don't have to sleep in a bed with me of course, I just...ugh...I don't know, I just want to feel somebody around...", he admitted.

"Yes, of course I can.", you said gently.

"Thanks...", he sounded tired and you sat down on his bed, caressing his hair a little until he fell asleep. After he did, you carefully stood up and prepared your own bed for the night in the living room.

It was almost lunch time the next day when you went back home, you decided to leave Haruki alone since you thought he needed time for himself to process his father's death. When you arrived, you saw a tall silhouette standing in front of your front door.

"Tobirama..."

"(Y/N), where have you been? I came over last night and today but you weren't here both times. Did you talk to Haruki?"

"I stayed at Haruki's house for the night." Tobirama frowned and his expression darkened when you finished the sentence. He was staring at you in patience.

"I didn't talk to him yet..." You didn't know how unpack this, but Tobirama wouldn't have let you anyway, already speaking up the second you stopped talking.

"I hope this is a joke."

You swallowed and shook your head.

"What were you doing at his house the whole night then? You told me you would take care of it as soon as he comes back!" He was getting upset.

"His father died on the mission! Listen Tobirama, I can't leave him now, not at this time. He needs me now, he can't lose another person." His gaze widened for a short second but went back to anger the same second. He clenched his teeth before talking further.

"And what exactly do you plan to do now, (Y/N)? Are you going to marry him out of sympathy now?"

"No of course not! What is it with you, are you trying to say I should leave him now, after the loss of his dearest person?"

"I would never demand this, I'm not that cold-hearted. But how should I possibly feel after you promised me to cut it off and then tell me this instead? Even if you wanted to be there for him, you didn't have to stay with him for the night. To be honest, I don't know how to feel about this, (Y/N). Be honest with me now, do you take all of this serious? Because it doesn't look like it!"

"Of course I do! Are you really doubting me and my feelings for you?" You couldn't believe it.

"You slept at his house, (Y/N)! Obviously this is a reason for me to question your words!"

"We didn't sleep in the same bed!" You could see relief in his face.

"And I knew his father very well too! I'm not going to feel bad for grieving over people close to me because of you.", you continued.

"That's not what it is about! You and him have my biggest condolences, but I just want to know what you expect to happen? How can you turn him down after showing him so much love? Giving him so much hope, it'll be much harder for him to let you go. And if I'm not wrong, he's now the head of his family, meaning he needs a wife more than ever."

"That's not going to happen, Tobirama! I'm not marrying him! Under no circumstances! Trust me a little more!"

"I don't know if I can at this moment." He admitted and you took his hand to hold it in yours.

"I'll break off the engagement. It just takes a little more time. Please, Tobirama." He still looked wary of this.

"...Do whatever you want." He huffed, pulled his hand away and turned around to leave. Before he'd gone too far, he stopped and addressed you a last time, though without looking back to you.

"I'll trust you now. But if things turn out the way I predicted, don't say I didn't warn you." And with that, he left.

The next days passed without you seeing Tobirama a single time. He must still be upset and you could understand him. He was right, but you knew you were in the right too. None of you were wrong in this. You were casually working, doing some paperwork - in those hard times your efficiency was needed more than ever, having a war going on outside the door. You went past Hashirama's office door when you heard a heated discussion going on inside of the room, a familiar voice involved in it.

"Tobirama, I understand that you feel upset, but I need you to understand that it's not easy to release you from this. You have to put yourself in their position."

"Anija, I understand their irritation. I am myself not proud of my volatile occurence. But they are not in the position to force me to marry her if I insist not to!"

"Haaa...Tobirama...I never thought you would be the one to cause such troubles one day. I don't know what to tell you, I can't promise you anything since our alliance with the Shimura Clan is at risk. This marriage should strengthen our bonds and seal their joining to Konoha. However, I'll do what I can to calm the waves and find another solution after I come back from war zone."

"Thank you, Anija. I'm sorry for causing you trouble, I know you're even more busy now, at wartime. I didn't even want to involve you, why did you even call me in? I could have cleared things up myself. You should focus on your retreat tomorrow."

Oh right, Hashirama will go to participate in the war tomorrow morning. Having other issues to deal with these days, you completely forgot about that. Your mood went sour, but you listened further.

"I was part of the reason for this arrangement after all. And I want to support my two dear love birds! I always knew you and (Y/N) had a thing for each other! I didn't expect such unreasonable demeanor from you though, you must've fallen badly for her!"

"Shut up already!" Tobirama shouted.

You had to giggle but were quickly concentrating on the essential again. What you just heard meant that Tobirama also had problems with breaking off the engagement. Your guts felt weird. Was all that a bad sign? No. You didn't believe in this. You would not give up anyways, he is trying so much for you and you'll do the same. Sunken in these thoughts, you nearly missed the sound of steps coming closer to you. Luckily, you managed to get away before the door opened.

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

You were visiting Haruki today again, bringing along some snacks this sunny day. Two days ago, the villagers had to farewell their Hokage as he was leaving the village to join the battlefield. And there was this last talk you two had the evening before his departure that didn't quite let go of your mind. When you said your goodbyes, he gave you his blessing for being with his brother, saying he was supporitve of your relationship. But for unknown reasons, your instincts screamed alarm. Worrying about the well-being of your friend and leader, you were hoping to just have a relaxing time for once, but of course you were not granted this freedom. As soon as you ate up, Haruki came up with a serious topic.

"(Y/N), I'm very thankful for your support in those times...I really picked the right one to be my bride..." He snickered and you gave him a gentle smile back, silently suffering in guilt behind your masquerade.

"And since you proved to me I can count on you, I hope you understand it when I tell you that we must marry as soon as possible since I have to step into the footprints of my father and inherit the family legacy."

You stopped whatever you were doing and looked at him in bewilderment. You knew exactly where this dialouge would lead to, Tobirama ended up being right. In this moment, you hated how he was always able to foresee future actions, but at the same time this quality is one you adored the most about him. It was you yourself you were mad at. Before you could wallow in self-pity, the already expected words slipped out of Haruki's mouth.

"(Y/N), we have to bring forward the wedding."

[kekoma]

— aone as your boyfriend.

note: i’m sucker for aone so i couldn’t resist and he’s really the sweetest baby that deserves some love. i tried my best to keep it canon but in the end, i hope this was still enjoyable.

literally one of the softest people to exist on earth. doesn’t make sense how this man has been single for so long!

aone is always careful with you since he does have a small fear of hurting you. (although his relationship with you will teach him how to control his strength better bc of that fear)

vv respectful and caring.

“are you okay?”

“umm... kinda of. it’s just my skirt keeps hiking up and i didn’t think it would.”

proceeds to take off his jacket and hand it to you to cover up with. not a big fan of his angel being in discomfort.

he also directs his eyes down to his feet when you’re in front getting on the bus if you’re wearing a skirt or dress (don’t have to worry about strangers looking from behind since his body shields you). although you two are dating for quite some years, he doesn’t want to bring discomfort— he’s a gentleman.

rarely do fights/arguments occur in your relationship with him

but if it somehow happens; aone is the first to apologize and do something to make it up to you.

this ice bear likes to see you smile rather than be upset and he’s really careful with his words after so he doesn’t make the same mistake in the future.

pda. pda. oh and pda.

doesn’t have to be major suffocating pda but in public, he definitely loves holding your hand and comparing the size differences. (plus it finally makes his heart warm knowing that someone he adores sits next to him during public transportation)

in private; aone adores cuddling you and admiring every little detail he’s able to spot on your face/body.

in addition, he loves receiving kisses from you. regardless if it’s on the lips, forehead, cheeks, etc. he just enjoys the feeling of your soft lips against his skin.

fun fact away from pda— he loves seeing you wear his clothes since he finds you cuter in them and the size difference really pops out.

aone doesn’t get mad when you steal his clothes either. he willingly gives you his stuff sometimes 

but be prepared to see a blushy giant cutie afterwards.

you two definitely have matching turtle stuffed animals or key chains (maybe matching turtle pjs too). can’t convince me otherwise.

speaking of turtles— can definitely see aone sending you pictures of him and his turtle together while texting ‘have a great day/feel better angel <3 we miss you’ if you’re away or sick at home.

can also see him trying his hand at arts and crafts just to make you cute items to wear or hang up in your room.

once made you a flower crown during a picnic date then took pictures with you wearing it. it’s been his wallpaper ever since 

helpful boyfriend alert 

if you’re struggling with something, he’s willing to do his best to help you in a heartbeat.

although if it’s not school related work then he’s still willing to help.

sweet aone once helped you re-arrange your room to your liking and even brought a few items that he assumed would fit your space.

dates. cute dates~ 

cafe dates. aquarium dates. stargazing dates. picnic dates.

anything simple but cute.

if you’re ever sad or having a bad day— aone will hold you close to him while peppering you with kisses. you have the choice to talk about the situation troubling you or not. if you don’t then he won’t push you to but if you do then he’s listening to everything carefully.

not the best with giving advices but will try his best to comfort you with his words

“i love you nobu...”

“i love you too y/n. do you want to order something to eat after?

“yes please.”

now if he’s ever sad/having a bad day; all you have to do is make his favorite, kuri kinton, cuddle him and verbally tell him that he’s the best boy to exist. although if he decides to talk about then you better listen and listen well.

in conclusion— aone takanobu is the best softest boy ever (i said what i said). being in a relationship with him is amazing, never boring and you’ll be a fool to not love this man.

© all content belongs to kekoma 2020. do not repost, modify or translate.

[downtonabbeyrevisited]

Season Two Episode Four

A 1918 timestamp ushers us into one of Downton’s more slow moving episodes where three parts painful banality has been mixed with one part life-or-death peril.

Providing more interesting political and cultural conflict than WW1 (at least at Downton) is Isobel’s ongoing grating at Cora’s very soul. Cora has had the temerity to ensure that the staff don’t collapse on their feet and has done something with the linen that I can’t quite fathom which, of course, Isobel takes as a slight upon her medical knowledge. Isobel makes the fatal error of calling Cora’s bluff threatening to ‘seek some other place’ if she is not appreciated at Downton. Major Clarkson also takes sides with Cora and Isobel now has no choice but to throw herself and her messiah complex upon the Red Cross in Northern France. I am sure they will be thrilled. 

With Isobel’s departure, Moseley and Mrs Bird find themselves at a loss having deep cleaned the house and moaned about their employer’s eating habits. Turns out that one thing they forgot to do was deploy any semblance of a security system as a random man with a drama school limp wanders into the house looking for food. In a manner that would make the current Conservative front bench recoil with horror, Mrs Bird starts up a soup kitchen out of her own (presumably rather small) pocket. In her latest attempt to not do her job, Mrs Patmore drags Daisy out for some fresh air and in the process uncovers this particular bit of well meaning but financially unsustainable charity. Mrs Patmore scales up the operation, creating a “special storage area” to squirrel away surplus from the army’s stock, which O’Brien conveniently overhears (but to be honest, it’s not that much of a coincidence. I imagine most of the kitchen heard it considering that Mrs Patmore practically yelled it). In an effort to try and inject a bit of actual drama into this episode, O’Brien reports this to Mrs Hughes but (un)fortunately, Mrs Hughes could not care less. But after watching the world’s most appalling secret handover of goods in the village, O’Brien rallies and this time is successful in bringing Cora to the nefariously compassionate Bird-Patmore coalition. To absolutely everyone’s surprise (viewers included) Cora orders food to be taken from the house stock rather than army and with all the over-confidence of a consultant sets about re-arranging tables and streamlining the workflow. 

Feeling much less charitable than Mrs Bird, Moseley heads to the Abbey and attempts to make himself indispensable and reach the dizzying heights of ‘Valet to the Earl of Grantham’. But not long after the peels of laughter that such a notion invites have died down, Bates returns and takes Mr Molesley’s shoehorn which one can’t help but think is emblematic of something. The return of Mr Bates is, naturally, a painfully protracted process that involves key protagonists not talking to each other, Thomas smoking on a wall, and the obligatory invocation of Kamal Pamuk. Robert invites Bates back to help him through the ‘veil of shadow’ and as such I was intrigued to learn that he is a World of Warcraft devotee. Bates reappearance downstairs also allows for the return of two other key Downton Abbey tropes: Anna and (John)Bates having a heart to heart under the cover of darkness, and Thomas and O’Brien’s irrational loathing/scapegoating of Britain’s most infuriatingly lovelorn character (outside of Thomas Thorne) to resume with aplomb. 

Less happy to be within the confines of the Abbey is Edith who continues to signal that all of this is really a bit beneath her (certain elements quite literally). Ever the teacher’s pet, Mr Molesley reports the sighting of an Officer by the maid’s staircase to Mrs Hughes who hears that there have been lots of rumours on the timeline tonight and comes out to say that she does not live in a sack. Unfortunately, Major Bryant does not live in one but definitely frequents one and, as such, it is of course Ethel is dismissed. As she rapidly packs all her belongings, Anna pleas to Mrs Hughes on her behalf confirming that she is indeed the friend we all want but probably don’t deserve. But Mrs Hughes can’t get rid of her that easily as Edith (and passenger) skulk back to liven up the end of the episode with news of an oncoming baby *Eastenders drums intensify*. 

Talking of undeserving relationships, Sybil and Branson receive more air-time than usual, providing the latter the opportunity to demonstrate that at times he really can be a muppet. And a slightly malevolent one at that. Sybil is firmly under the cosh this week with Violet making thinly veiled references to inappropriate alliances and Mary asking probing questions whilst she tries to get on with her job. Mary thinks that she has spotted her sister and Branson having some kind of romantic exchange but in reality, all that she has seen from afar is Branson telling Sybil that she is in love with him which when you think about it, is all kinds of awful and hardly the basis for a healthy relationship. After a long walk through the grounds where I am half expecting Branson to appear on a horse Willoughby-style, Sybil eventually caves and confesses to Mary that she doesn’t know if she likes Branson despite his eminently creepy voice over. Sybil then relays her sororal confidence and rather than taking this as an opportunity to ingratiate himself, Branson for whatever reason attempts to coerce Sybil into a relationship but not before he belittles her job. Sybil looks rightfully outraged as some equally emotionally manipulative strings wail in the background in an attempt to try and make us think that anything that has just happened was evenly slightly dreamy. 

Threaded through this glacially paced episode has been the looming threat of a both a concert and the death of Matthew and (to a much lesser extent because that is how class works) William. In an effort to break the monotony of walking around the exact same bit of French trench (see previous re-caps for further details), William and Matthew take to wandering across some largely unadulterated land and into the path of some nonchalant Germans. Daisy’s lack of (presumably fawning) letters from William starts off a chain of enquiry which confirms that the War Office has declared Matthew and William missing enabling Mary to once again deploy her signature move: weeping into her gloves. But only one hand this time because she needs to keep a bit of composure for the show must go on! Apparently. Following some abysmal piano playing (I grew up in an appallingly musical household and we all had to endure the torture of other people at the early stages of learning an instrument. It was of course blissful when we got good but, heck, I was thrown straight back to the horror of it all with that ‘accompaniment’ and had an odd sort of stress response which I won’t describe here), Mary and Edith do a rendition of If You Were the Only Girl (In the World) as everyone looks on stony-faced before participating in the millenia’s most morose sing-a-long. With a very good sense of drama, Matthew and (to a much lesser extent) William make their return. Matthew takes his place at Mary’s side and joins in the signing to what is now presumably quite a bewildered audience. Ah, Downton. 

Romantic declaration of the moment 

Violet raises reasonable concerns about Richard Carlisle but Mary is more interested in expanding her real estate portfolio and agrees to throw her lot in with a fiscal agreement disguised as a marriage. Upon his ‘miraculous’ return, Matthew gives the union his blessing on the condition that Richard remains deserving. Not that he ever really was. But the sentiment is what matters here and what is more loving* than putting another’s presumed happiness before your own.

*there are actually a lot of other more loving things but in the interest of formatting, we’re going to sweep those under a very large rug for now. 

Expressive eyebrow of the week 

Rather than training as a nurse or being actually pretty useful in a convalescent home, Mary’s contribution to the war effort is being amicable with Edith. Violet declares that she has now “seen everything” as the spirit of Mrs Adelman moves on. 

Wait, what? 

“I wish we had a man” Presented without comment 

“If I am not appreciated here, I will seek some other place” Yes. PLEASE. 

“What must he do to persuade you he is in love with Lavinia? Open his chest and carve her name on his heart” No, Mary. Matthew merely needs to carve her name with a compass on his forehead to prove that… 

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“I hate the word ‘missing’. It leaves so much room for optimism.” Robert is a bit emotionally weird isn’t he? 

“We haven't kissed or anything. I don't think we've shaken hands. I'm not even sure if I like him like that. He says I do, but I'm still not sure.” And lo, another red flag is raised. But because Branson is Downton’s version of a Bolshevik, both Mary and Sybil view this not as a warning about the boy’s behaviour but rather a symbol of his political leanings and such signals are duly ignored.

“He always seems a romantic figure to me” Daisy Robinson writes fanfic. Pass it on. 

“Sometimes in war, one can make friendships that aren't quite…appropriate. And can be awkward, you know, later on. I mean, we've all done it.” Once again, Violet, tell us more! 

Bates says that he has returned to “Downton at war” which sounds like a lucrative exhibition name if I ever did hear one. 

Despite Mary’s most valiant efforts, no musical performance had ever gone out to such an impassive audience until Rosalind came along 

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Matthew of course is used to a much better quality sing-, sorry, song-a-long 

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