#how is one of the most important parts of me. of my childhood fading away?

[dirtytransmasc]

its so weird thinking about childhood best friends you don't know anymore. like. the girl and her siblings who lived next door for year, who I used to considered my sister, who now looking back on it was probably my first crush ever, who swore we would grow up together, who was only 'visiting' her family for a month, turns out her parents lied to us, I never saw her again. the girls I went to summer to summer camp with every year and now I can barely remember there faces.

like. how are they doing?

I still can't conceptualize that these people who mattered *so* much to me are just... gone... chances are that I will never see them again, especially my best friend who's back in Pakistan, and even if I did, so much time has passed that I would most likely not recognize them even if I did see them.

[grievous-writes]

"Mimic" - Part One - Ramattra x Reader

Welp, I think this one is gonna be more then a one shot XD

You were one of the most single-handedly annoying Humans Ramattra had to endure, and given all of Humanity was on his knives’ edge, that was saying something. He had his mission, his war, his duty to all Omnic kind, and you as a Talon agent were making this muddled - A Human who was an ally, even if it was hesitantly so. 

Those who worked with the organization were a colorful bunch, some fatalistic and grim, and then others were like you with your flashy attitude and manic personality. Sombra and you were in that same vein, snarky and short, but you were different enough to stand out from the hacker by coming to Ramattra on your downtime. Where Sombra’s RnR was spent on her various data collections and pulling threads behind a monitor, you spent your time pestering the Omnic leader.

Your particular flavor of pestering Ramattra was your vocal mimicry, hence your code name “Mimic”. You loved to use his voice against him.

Ramatraa read your file, he knew it was a Blackwatch raid on your small town that caused you to loathe the sham that was Overwatch, and you had to survive a traumatic childhood by mimicking everything around you. You could be disguised as anything, from a dog limping down the street to a trash bin dumped over on the side of the road, and through this unique skill you would steal food for other orphaned kids in your town … or you’d pilfer heavy munitions for rebel cells. You were a survivor, durable and capable, and slightly insane. You had to be if you kept pestering him so often. 

You caught him several times when he was leaving meetings with the other Talon top-brass, appointed his escort to and from his ship, and would poke and poke and poke:

“So, got any plans to make people suffer as you have suffered today?” You asked with half of your voice being your own, and the other more embolden part being his tone repeated back to him. Uncanny. 

He tried to ignore you, walking onward as you trailed behind; sights set forward to his docked ship. 

“Oh come on, don’t leave me hanging!” Your smile was too wide for his taste.

He growled. “Surely you must have some task other than to bother me, Human.” 

“Oh, ouch, are we back to that sort of name calling, Omnic?” You frowned with a mischievous eye roll. “Come on, give me something to work with besides your broody mode. A laugh, a joke!”

“You are a joke.” Was his quick spitted response, and he felt rather juvenile after letting it out.

“Again, ouch.” You chuckled and he watched from the edge of his vision as your smile faded ever so. “How about this then - When you’re in a better mood, and if you have free time, come find me?”

Ramattra paused in mid step and snapped his head down to look at you. “And why would I seek you out?” 

“Cause I’m charming and fun to be around.” Your smile grew in full force; hands on your hips and head held high.Cocky and confident. 

The Omnic aimed to give another quick retort, a quick bit of his words, but he faltered. That’s what you wanted from him, banter and conversation - You were collecting more of his voice. And for what end? You were using him, just as how he was using you. 

“Enough of you, Mimic.” Ramattra’s tone was deep, level, and it made your stomach churn. His red glowing gaze was intense and you felt your grin falter once more. “Be gone and find your sport elsewhere. I have no interest in mingling with the likes of you.” 

“Likes of me? W-What’s that-?”

“You are an adventitious tool for Talon and nothing more. You are barely subpar above the hacker and sniper, nowhere near important enough to be mentioned by your leaders, and your only real task is playing babysitter to someone who could crush your skull in with a flex of my palm. It is trivial and a token task given to placate someone as desperate as you.” The Omic turned away from you and kept walking to the ramp of his waiting vessel, leaving you in your spot. 

Your feet refused to move and you couldn’t find any words. 

“Keep that in mind when you try to talk to me as if we are equals.” Was Ramattra’s last comment as he ducked out of sight, and you stood frozen as his ship flew away into the early evening’s orange sky. - - -

The last meeting with the Omnic got to the ears of Reaper, with some deck crew tattle-telling on you, and the masked man gave you a mouthful of not so passive threats to back down … and a new assignment that would take you away from Talon’s HQ for sometime. Talon couldn’t risk pissing off Null Sector, not for the amusement of a mid-range agent like yourself.

You were assigned to the ass end of nowhere, at a monitoring station high in the mountains of the western United States, where Talon was piggybacking off official comms channels around the world. You were set in charge of a small team that was meant to monitor air traffic and report anything useful. You were essentially tossed to the side, put in time out, and your skills and true talents left unused for months.

To anyone else, they’d have probably been pissed off and brooding about the new job, but you had been discarded before many times, lonely and forgotten, that this was a walk in the park. You had learned to mimic contentment, to fabricate joy, and masterfully masked your hurt emotions with diligence to your task. This was all first nature to you, with the founding blocks of your skills set by a little kid who had to fake it till they made it. You remembered a time where you had to literally mimic the sound of a dying bunny to lure in a starving cat, a fine meal you caught with your bare hands; just barely above the age of ten. 

You were so alone, so sad, and scared.

In all your bravado and flashy facade, you had thought that maybe Ramattra would understand what it meant to feel alone; given his situation. You couldn’t imagine the weight on his shoulders, his task was unique to him alone, but you could still sympathize. And you dared that maybe, just maybe, you told yourself, if you could make him “smile” there was hope that neither of you would be so lonely.

But alas, he pushed you away. Red tape was laid out and you were officially told to back off.

That didn’t stop you however from using the monitoring station to your own ends.

You had your own hacking subroutines that Sombra didn’t have access to, your own unique flavor of single mimicking, and you easily tapped into Null Sector and Talon communications. You at first used your connection to pinpoint where joint operations were held, then you would figure out who was in command and leading the missions, and eventually you got access to an area’s security system and watched the battles from the comfort of your desk via CCTVs. And unabashedly, you were keen on watching Ramattra work out in the field. 

You watched how dominating Ramattra was on the field, and was fascinated with how precise his attacks were. His defensiveness was calculated, his offense ruthless, and he would annihilate his enemies with efficacy. You couldn’t help but find yourself mimicking his voice and actions in the comfort of your room, playing out fighting along his side and working out in your head how you could aid the Omic in battle. You found yourself roleplaying as well, making fake conversations back and forth with his voice and your own in your throat. Silly things, funny things, a side of Ramattra you were making up in your spare time. 

You imagined him congratulating you on a task well done, complimenting you on your fighting style, and after a few close calls in combat, finally him taking that offer on spending time with you. But in reality, you were talking to yourself, sitting in a barely lit room and dreaming of something that would never come to be. It was pathetic. The solitary time in the mountains was getting to you, and you knew that there was a line between boredom and obsession. 

On the morning you set out to end the little spy network on Ramattra’s missions, you noticed something interesting stirring in the signals codding. The Omnic and a few other Talon agents were set out on a stealth mission to steal a payload out from Overewatch’s nose, and where Sombra was there to hack her way through doors and watch through the building’s cameras, you caught signs of another person’s work doing the same thing you were doing. They were mimicking Sombra’s signal and watching everything she was doing. You watched from a third eye position as Sombra’s attacks were being counter blanched, no doubt by someone in Overwatch, but you couldn’t act - Or else you’d be found out. It was one thing to have a little network insight like you had, and another thing to be found out. 

You could get into real trouble, like the sort that left a bullet in your brain knowing Talon, but as you watched the mission go to shit, as you saw Ramattra’s shield being beaten down again and again, all thoughts for self preservation fell away. 

“Fuck it.” You snarled under your breath and got to work. Your signal turned onto the Overwatch line and began to attack it from the preverbal backdoor in a sparking battle; counter-acting every move it tried to do, by acting as stray code within its own network. You began to cause internal damage into the Overwatch hacker’s routine, mimicking your way in and out of its trappings to have the program destroy its own code.  

The actions caught Sombra’s attention as she was trying to open a door for escape, a weird glare set to her features. “What the-?!”

“Sombra, the door!” Reaper shouted out between shotgun blasts.

“Yeah yeah, I’m getting there - Finally!” She barked back with a sudden smirk as the doors flew open. 

“What took so long?” Widowmaker asked through the commlink, snipping off targets from above.

“Eh, someone in Overwatch was being fancy. But - …” Sombra stood up and dashed through the door; leaving her remark unfinished. The others followed behind her, with Ramattra pulling in the rear as he used his tanky tactics to cover the retreat. 

Reaper hummed and looked to Windowmaker, who had joined the escape from the shadows of a corner and a glare was set to her cold, blue features. 

You watched the interactions going down, heard every word, and both you and Sombra knew that; she knew you were watching and listening now. The hacker was the closest thing you had to a “friend” within Talon, and you knew while she’d try to not toss you under the bus, she might not have the choice; self preservation. But you couldn’t help but feel sudden burning guilt as Reaper and Widowmarker set their eyes onto Sombra. They had their suspicions on her already, you knew that after the failed assassination a few months back, and this could be the perfect opportunity to get her. And by “get”, they could easily kill her if they wanted. 

You couldn’t hide. Your shame of spying on Ramattra was meager compared to seeing Somrba get shot down. Your own self preservation was tossed out the window in a foolish flick of our comm into their joined link. 

“Welcome to Talon Airlines, this is Mimic, and I’ll be your pilot this evening!” Your voice mimicked that of a cherry commercial pilot, masterfull masking your nervousness. The group took a collective halt, stunned for a moment, but none of you had time to talk or argue. “If you could kindly get going? I can’t copy their single for too much longer and Sombra needs to get out of there before the whole compound goes into lock down.” 

Wordlessly the team booked it for the exit, with Sombra leading the way to freedom as you battled on; holding the line. You managed to lock and close doors behind the fleeing troupe, blocking Overwatch agents from getting to them at every turn. You watched as the Talon transporter came flying down to pick up the team, with Ramattra taking a quick glance at a security camera. You watched his crimson glow lingered into the feed, and even as he ducked out of sight and into the safety of the ship, you could feel the red flare burned into your gaze; with no amount of blinking being rid of the speckles in your eyesight. 

You were so fucked.

---

Ramattra stood to one side of the debriefing room, silent and arms crossed, and he was impressed by how you held your ground while Reaper drilled into you. You didn’t flinch, didn’t show emotion. But it couldn’t last; you were only Human, after all. Sombra was brought in as well, the two of you getting an earful, but the masked-man’s ire was majorly on you. Rightfully so, of course. 

You were spying on special operations of some of Talon’s highest ranking agents, and that would've gotten any other soldier a death sentence. Your only saving grace was that you never recovered what you saw. And with Sombra’s input, it was understood your system was nearly flawless. The hacker would have improved things here and there, a few tweaks into your algorithm, but it was enough passive praise to get Reaper to cool down. 

And then there was Doomfist. He was as quiet as Ramattra during the entire interrogation, and only spoke after Reaper had stepped back from your person. Reaper was the gun and Doomfist was the person who could’ve pulled the preverbal trigger.

“Agent Mimic.” Akande began, his baritone voice calm as he was reading over a datapad. Ramattra recognized the passing words on the pad as your personal file, specifically the disciplinary record section. It was a clean slate. 

“Yes, Sir?” You asked at full attention. 

“I shall make this simple.” Doomfist put down the datapad onto a nearby table and began to walk his way around the room, slowly making it to your side. Ramattra was reading your vitals and while you were keeping collected on the outside, your heart rate was steadily rising. “While you have been a loyal soldier to Talon’s cause, and resourceful tool, and have skills I’d hate to see wasted … You’ve made yourself a loose thread, one that has no damaging repercussions if I decide to have you removed. Do you understand?” 

You nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” Doomfist’s large gauntlet, with its golden fingers and heavy metal, was delicately laid upon your thinly padded shoulder. He held firm and Ramattra could see in your hardened stare a small spike of emotion breaking through. 

Fear. 

Ramattra could feel his system whirr alive from within his chest cavity, a fan kicking in to dispel a heat he hadn’t felt till that moment. 

“Very good.” Doomsift gave your shoulder a pat before he moved the heavy hand from your body, and your heart race quickened at the lack of his touch. Silent as the night, the tall Human walked back to the head of the table and sat down in a blackened swivel large chair. He sighed and closed his eyes, thinking. 

Reaper shifted his weight from side to side, waiting.

Sombra’s sharp eyes were fixated on Mimic, then onto Ramattra for a brief moment. 

“Ramattra.” Doomfist spoke and his golden gaze shifted to the Omnic. “If Agent Mimic was in your charge, how would you proceed with discipline?” 

Your eyes shifted to him, your fear growing cold in your once bright eyes that teased him with his own voice months ago, and Ramattra’s fan kicked up a level in intensity. You were breaking, as any Human would do in time. There was something undeniably egotistically uplifting at knowing your fate was dependent on his word; something cruel and bitter. Mondatta’s words of compassion echoed within Ramattra’s mind, a failure of a lesson, and it was one he swore never to head again. 

And yet. 

Ramattra uncrossed his arms and reached for his staff, with long metal fingers curling about the weapon’s shaft as he hummed a thought. “Were this left to me? This tool is still usable, even in such a blunder.” 

Your eyes never moved off Ramattra as he continued. “Agent Sombra has given her account on how Mimic’s network was undetectable, to herself and to Overwatch until the big reveal. With some reworking, and with proper guidance, this tool can be repurposed.”

Doomfist hummed deeply. “To be repurposed, a novel idea. And if I were to offer Mimic into your service?” 

The Omnic didn’t trust Doomfist as far as he could throw him. This was a trick. “I would decline.”

“I see.” Doomfist sighed. The tone was set and Mimic’s fate was sealed.

Unless Ramattra acted quickly. But did he want to? It was no secret you were using your network to watch him, an unspoken thing said in the report and after a quick dissection of your data. Why were you watching him? What did you want? Were you seeking the thrill of an obtuse fetish? Trying to gather information on Ramattra that could bring him down? Were you secretly working on the derivative of Talon? There were too many questions.

And thankfully for you, Ramattra wanted answers. 

“However,” Ramatta took a step forward, using some of his massive form to block you from Doomfist’s gaze. Your heart was accelerating at every passing second and there was a mild thrill for Ramattra in your panic. “If Mimic was to choose to transfer to my retinue, I would see this repurposing done. Personally.” 

“You believe they have a choice?” Doomfist raised a singular handsome brow. 

“I do. They can either accept the transfer,” Ramattra and everyone turned their attention to you, and he watched as you swallowed hard. “Or they die. There is no use in vague threats over their life now. They understand … don’t you, Agent Mimic?”

Your throat was so dry that it burned like a sunburn. You rolled your tongue behind closed teeth, trying to find some saliva for reprieve, but there was none. There was only one answer you could give. 

---

And that is how you ended up as the only Human in service of Null Sector, a Talon lesion for Ramattra’s personal use; half hacker and half confidant. Ramattra used your mimicry to every advantage, both in the physical sense and in data collection. You were given quarters deep within the recesses of his primary base, where the sun barely showed and work was grueling. But you were at least alive. You would adapt to your new life (for however long it lasted), as you had so long ago as a child. You swore to yourself to thrive, to make yourself useful, and to survive no matter what suffering the world would toss upon you. 

And of course, you wouldn’t let your flare fade away, not all the way at least. You just had to go about it differently then you had before. The first rule change was to not piss off Ramattra. The second was to not get caught.

So when you felt the need to speak to yourself, you did so in your room. You couldn’t hold back those ticks for sassy conversation. Using his voice, however meager and in private, provided some aspect that you still had free will in your new life. 

“Did you think me forgiving?” You asked yourself in Ramattra’s voice. 

“No, Sir.” You responded with a smile. “I think you are a dick.” 

“You dare?!” Ramatra’’s voice scoffed in your throat. “You’ll pay for that, little one.” 

“Oh, little one~? Don’t make a promise you can’t keep …” You blinked at that and felt your face flush. That came out of nowhere, and it was extremely unhealthy. Creepy and gross, even. You cleared your throat and reached for a cup of water, sipped it to soothe the ache from copying Ramattra’s deeper voice. 

“I’m fucking weird.” You chuckled at yourself nervously and got back to work, typing away at a report.

Meanwhile, from across the base, a solitary Omnic was in his workshop with an array of monitors before him. 

Ramattra knew your first task when setting up your room would be to weed out any listening devices and cameras, all which you found with ease … save one. But it’s location he kept to himself, for now.

You weren’t the only one who was capable of mimicking.

[perplexingluciddreams]

i finished the first Outlander book! really enjoyed it.

i have to wait until tomorrow morning to get the next one because mum has to buy it and put it on the kindle (i don't do money things and i don't know how the kindle fully works yet, only know how to turn pages and adjust brightness and font size).

i love love love that i am reading again!!! it is MY thing.

mum said that to my previous support worker's friend on video call. (the call was to meet the friend because they will probably be my next support worker, after they do the training). she said reading is MY thing for the whole childhood, always.

it felt so nice to hear that. special interests are so permanent for me, they never go away. they will fade in and out of the main focus, and it changes what is at the "front" or most intense of them over time. but never ever goes away. and never sudden changes, only shifting slowly gradually over time. they all have huge importance always.

and every special interest becomes a part of how i think of myself as a person. my identity. and a lens through which i process and understand everything else i experience.

ezra is reading and reading is ezra. and it always has been that way. i love to read. that has always been true. i find a grounding comfort in such a solid truth.

[caitlynnrosespn]

Need Help With Jack?

I AM NOT SAYING YA'LL ARE DOING IT WRONG I AM JUST HERE TO HELP WITH SOME OF THE TRICKIER PARTS OF HIM OKI

Before we begin I just wanna say that I have CPTSD (what he would reasonably have from his childhood) and I am have been doing theater and performances for a very long time, so while I don't have a perfect understanding of Jack there are some things I can help with (by the way @the-l-is-silent-yall did a great post about writing Mihaly which encouraged me to post this so check that out)

This is going to be long, so here we go:)

First off. His makeup.

I've seen some people say he is wearing makeup to seem more feminine, but that's not really the purpose of this kind of makeup. This is a type of makeup that is formerly known as contemporary makeup. In traditional western theater, it is used on performers (usually actors or dancers) to highlight their features so they don't fade in the bright stage lights. Without it, performers would look washed out or blank to the audience. It is composed of powder, foundation, rouge, lipstick, and eyeliner. Female or feminine presenting performers will also wear mascara, and some actors will apply highlighter and bronzer to accentuate or create features depending on the character they play, but actors of all gender orientation will have to wear some sort of makeup. The most telling mark of Jack wearing this type of makeup is the eyeliner and lipstick, which helps you more clearly see his features when the camera zooms out. It also helps the performer's features stand out, since he is covered in white paint. Now up close this makeup looks like it's too much makeup or it makes his features look weird, but that's the point. I have had directors tell me "if you look in the mirror and see a clown, you are doing it right." Theater makeup of any kind looks over exaggerated up close on purpose, so it reads to the audience who is far away.

Next let's talk about how to write a very important part of his story: his trauma.

Now I've seen a lot of fics talk about Jack's relationship with The Traveler, and how there is mutual distrust, and how basically Jack is afraid of The Traveler in the same way Jack fears Nightswan. While I'm not saying this is necessarily wrong, (although I would love to see The Traveler be a good father just this once) it would make more sense if Jack was afraid of someone else:

Si'ha Nova.

In Jack's life, most of his trauma and insecurity came from his mother. He was raised to believe that Nightswan's treatment of him was normal among all families. Because that trauma came from Nightswan, he has a bigger chance of struggling with women in parental roles rather than men in father roles. Because most of my trauma was from my dad and other men, I had a hard time trusting older men. PLEASE don't take this the wrong way and think "oh, see he hates women." NO! What I'm saying is that Jack would have a hard time trusting and opening up with anyone he perceives as motherly. He might have more trauma responses when around Si'ha, such as flinching more around her or seeming more closed off. This can of course be helped, and I'm sure Si'ha won't have a hard time building trust with Jack. Now of course he might still have his trust issues and reservations about The Traveler, but it would be a lot less worse than those he would have with Si'ha. (i'm saying this in a mean way, this is just what I've learned about childhood trauma)

Now let's take about the inevitability of a trigger for Jack.

Triggers are the weirdest thing in the world. Sometimes they are obvious things. As an abuse survivor, I don't like people jump-scaring me and I feel uncomfortable when people start handling belts (i even rarely wear one) which is all pretty self explanatory and stuff and you would think that's the same for the rest of my triggers, right? Nope! No I can't watch Victorious, I freeze up when the Arizona Storm alarms play, and I will have a literal breakdown whenever I see one of those plagiarism warning screens. Also can't watch horror movies. Do they make sense to me? Not at all. But the reason they trigger my CPTSD is because somewhere in my brain, in my suppressed memory, my brain is reminded of my trauma and is launched into flight or fight mode.

Jack's triggers might be something that makes sense, like being in the mirror room or seeing something about the Swan Soldiers. But, he would also have more explainable or random triggers. A specific color could remind him of his mom. A melody could remind him of a song that was playing during a rehearsal gone wrong. A certain smell could remind him of a room that he wasn't particularly fond of in Nightswan tower.

So what exactly would be the best way to write Jack having a breakdown? Glad you never asked!!! I shall still answer!!

Jack having a breakdown could go down one of two ways. One, he could get really combative, aka fight. Not like throwing hands combative, but like suddenly being overly defensive and irritated over little things. Assuming someone notices this change of behavior, it would take a few moments until his brain finally perceives that there is no actual threat, and then celebrate by gifting Jack with an intense breakdown complete with tears and a panic attack that will literally leave him breathless. Option two, the flight option, will see Jack suddenly feeling the need to escape. Maybe he'll need to leave a room, or need to get off the street and into a building, or he might not even be able to be in the same room as someone. When his brain finally decides the danger is no longer in the room with us he will have a similar breakdown as he did in option one. But of course, there is a third, more fun, more secret option. Option three, freeze.

I'm a freeze person, and freeze is ten times worse than option one and two combined. When someone freezes, they will escape to a space devoid of people or possible threats. They will then find a place where they can observe all sides of the room without needing to turn, preferably a corner, make themselves smaller via holding their chest to their knees, and then have that extra special breakdown. The problem with freeze is your brain never has the opportunity the decide if the threat is actually gone, so instead of moving on you are stuck in this feeling of being in danger even if obviously you are not.

The best way you can write someone (most likely Wanderlust, knowing you guys) helping out is:

-No touching until he calms down. Touching always makes things worse. Not until he can voice that he is calming down.

-Trying to communicate breathing/grounding exercises. It will take a minute before he responds and partakes. @apexious wrote a really good example of this, just with reversed roles.

-Weighted blankets weighted blankets weighted blankets weighted blankets

-Have them try to voice what he is feeling/what he perceives the danger to be. Usually helps reduce trigger responses if they are encountered again.

And the last thing I want to note about Jack is that traumatic memories will most likely fade with time. Not the actual trauma or the memories behind them, but specific details will be hard to recall such as his specific age when it happened, where it happened, or other specific details. The brain likes to do that to protect you from specifically traumatizing or harmful memories.

Sorry for the essay, but I hope this helps!!! If you have any other questions regarding this, feel free to message me/drop it into my dropbox!!! Happy writing!!!

[lichtecht]

PART 29

of the dfk audiobook translation

@cnka

this is the final part!!

Jo: „Hey! How did it go?“ Martina: (breathes out slowly) „No idea.“ Martina: „I don’t know if I made it.“ Jo: „Ach, I'm sure.“ Jo: „When will you get the information?“ Martina: „Soon.“ Martina: „…“ Martina: „That was it.“ Jo: „What?“ Martina: „My only chance for the scholarship.“

Narrator (audiobook): Jo takes Martina in her arms.

Music fades in and continues into the following scene.

Martina: „Will we still be friends? Even if I have to leave?“ Jo: „'Course.“

SCENE CHANGE

Narrator (audiobook): In the evening, Robert sits at the bar of the town pub. Justus comes in and sits down next to him.

Bökh, to the barkeeper: „Will you make me a beer?“ Barkeeper: „With pleasure.“

Justus sighs. He shoots a few looks at Robert from the side.

The barkeeper sets the beer down in front of Justus.

Bökh, to the barkeeper: „Thank you.“

Silence and music again….. But it’s comfortable this time. Not like in the wagon.

Robert looks at Justus for a moment. He turns away to take another drag from his cigarette.

Nichtraucher: „I didn’t think you’d come.“

Silence and music

Bökh: „Of course I did.“

Justus takes a drink from his beer.

Music

Robert raises his glass to his lips, still turned away from Justus.

Nichtraucher: „On the youth.“

Justus sets down his beer and looks at Robert in silence for a few seconds.

Bökh: „On us.“

This time, Robert looks at him. He studies Justus' face for a few seconds before turning away with a smile.

Narrator (audiobook): Almost simultaneously the two turn around to a small stage with a few instruments standing on it.

Justus looks at Robert and raises his eyebrows.

Nichtraucher: „Are you ready?“

Justus shrugs and nods.

Narrator (audiobook): A few moments later, Justus has strapped on the guitar and is standing in front of the microphone. Robert sits at the piano and takes a last drag from his cigarette.

Narrator (Nichtraucher): And I promise you one thing; tomorrow, I’m a nonsmoker.

Narrator (audiobook): Justus addresses the few guests in the bar, but they are only of secondary importance tonight. Because here and now is about so much more.

Bökh: „We’re the Bandits.“

Robert chuckles.

Justus starts singing.

Different scenes are shown while the song plays. It switches back to Justus and Robert singing together inbetween.

[This music video is mostly that but with lyrics over top, but it also includes scenes from previously in the movie. Song lyrics + translations can be found here.]

Narrator (audiobook): And so everything finds a happy ending. The Internals stranded at the boarding school in the holidays spend idyllic days at the lake and in the mountains. With their new friends, the Externs, also.

Narrator (audiobook): And finally Herr Bökh receives the releasing letter, which he immediately delivers to Martina.

Narrator (audiobook): She has passed the test. She will see the boarding school and her new friends again after the holidays.

Narrator (audiobook): But for now it’s off to Berlin to Martina’s brother and mom. She has a lot to tell after all - especially about the flying classroom and how it came to be.

The song fades out with this scene. The "Bandits" finish their song. Justus grins at Robert. Robert breathes out and smiles back, nodding. The audience inside the bar cheers.

Narrator (Nichtraucher): Most people take off their childhood like clothing that fell out of fashion and is then forgotten in a basement. Don’t let your childhood be driven out of you. Only those who grow up and stay children are human. The simple things are sometimes complicated. If you didn’t understand something, ask your parents. And - dear parents. If you happened to not understand something, ask your children.

[callonpeevesie]

Do you mind if I ask your top 10 favorite characters (can be male or female) from all of the media that you loved (can be anime/manga, books, movies or tv series)? And why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before.....Thanks...

Hi, thanks for the ask! It's hard to pick top 10 because my feelings about characters keep fluctuating and I'm also kind of out of touch with fandom these days, but here are 10 characters I've blorboed in the past or recently.

Pyala from tenida - I have posted about him before, he's my childhood fave from a series that's very dear to me. I grew attached to him when I first read the stories when I was about eight. I was quiet, constantly zoned out, chronically sick and couldn't Maths, and I really saw myself in him. But what sealed him as my favourite character is his sort of quiet courage,, he's scared of many things but he has this integrity and is brave enough to be honest with himself. I've had so many other favourite characters since, but that connection never really went away. As I grew up and reread the stories I discovered more layers to his character and unpacked just how much he had impacted me in my childhood. He's just really important to me.

Héctor from coco - I was absolutely obsessed with coco for a very long time, this blog even started as a coco blog. It's a beautiful movie and héctor was always my favourite character. He was understandably very popular and I love him for his adorable personality and angst potential, but another reason I'm attached to him is the pushover aspect of his personality. It's something I myself struggled with and it was super cathartic to see him stand up to ernesto. I used to wonder a lot how things would have gone if he had lived longer and got to grow more.

Mia from ace attorney - she's just *chef's kiss*. I got into aa a couple of years back and fell in love with her from the beginning. She's so beautiful and badass but also so much more. She impacts the story so much even though she was present for such a short time, it's fascinating to think about. And she feels more and more layered and flawed and interesting the more I think about her. I'm very normal about her

Grover from pjo - it's safe to say my pjo phase has completely faded, but I have a sort of nostalgic attachment to Grover. He's so soft but brave and adorable and grew so much over the series. I do feel his potential was underutilised in the books. But in a way I like that his backstory and personal journey is left so vague, it makes him more intriguing to me. Part of the reason I like him so much is because his bravery and potential are so overlooked in the fandom and I guess I'm defensive of him, lol.

Sokka from atla - tbh I only watched atla for the first time as an adult, during the pandemic, and sokka just grew on me during my first watch. He's just such a guy, the way he's shaped by the protective role he took on as a kid, by growing up during a war, how calculative and ruthless he can be in spite of his goofiness and how much he cares about Katara, I just,,,, ughhhh. I love chewing on him so much and I find it fascinating how well he was fleshed out even though he's not the most narratively important character

Matsuda from death note - another more recent favourite, got into death note a couple of years back. I enjoyed how silly and goofy he is and he grew on me, how he feels worthless compared to everyone else and wants to prove himself. He's also such a madlad for his yotsuba stunt (and telling mello he was L. wtf was that). His conflicted position and eventual reaction to light's betrayal make him an interesting one to figure out, but what stands out to me is how he seems to use humour to cope and tries desperately to liven things up. It's especially obvious to me that he puts up a facade in the epilogue of the manga

Anne shirley from Anne of green gables - this one is a childhood favourite. She's!! So good!! I became obsessed with her when I first read the book because I related so much to her imaginativeness and her way of admiring beauty, I felt like she was putting into words things I've always felt deep down. As an adult I've ceased to relate to her so much, but I still love the way she interacts with the people and environment around her and how she deals with her flaws and strives to be better. Also demiromantic icon fr

Shen from kung fu panda 2 - truly one of the villains ever. A++ design, actually compelling story, how his struggle with his past and identity reflects and contrasts with Po's,,, it's thematically so GOOD. I just love how he never truly gets over the past even though he claims to tend to the future and he's always terrified of the prophecy even though he acts confident that he's escaped fate. And how po succeeds where he feels,, I think shen can only be fully appreciated in relation to po and that makes me a little insane. I love my drama queen genocidal freak birb

Hobie from across the spiderverse - i think he's my favourite thing to come out of atsv, he's such a guy <33 everything from his design to how well he was executed in spite of so little screentime is top tier. There's a lot to say about his narrative significance, but what i love the most about him is that he embodies the idea that kindness is punk. He's not punk just for the aesthetic, although it seems like he is and that's probably at least partially on purpose; his beliefs are punk and he does not believe in the conformity and suffering that Miguel encourages. He watches out for gwen and miles not just because he doesn't agree with the spider society but because he cares about them. And his kindness doesn't take away from his punkness, compassion and caring IS resistance and I think that's beautiful

Obelix from Asterix - Asterix is one of my all time favourite media I've loved since childhood and it's hard to pick one character because I love all of the main cast so much, but I have to go with the autistic king. He's Wonderful, he's genuinely so funny, his thinking is so straightforward and he feels left out because no one bothers to explain things to him but he cares about Asterix and dogmatix so so much I just. I could cry. And the backstory in how obelix fell into the magic potion adds more to him and his bond with Asterix, like,,, yes

Once again these are 10 characters I thought of now, I might have a different answer later because my feelings about my favourite characters change a lot. But that's my answer for now and sorry for answering so late. Thanks for asking!

[scribbleseas]

The Indignant Pawn, Chapter XV: The Hand Of Karma

Description: You are Y/n Y/l/n- formerly known as Princess Helena, the runaway princess.

You're an assassin for hire who only agrees to find the worst of London's criminals at the business end of your knife; until a mysterious woman hires you to end the likes of Ciel Phantomhive, the King of the Underworld. You find yourself trading your weapons for your abandoned family crest in order to infiltrate his home as none other than Princess Marie-Louise, your twin sister. What's to happen when you find that the young Earl is more than a callous businessman?

OVERALL STORY WARNINGS: sexual assault (once in the prologue), objectification, misogyny, death, detailed description of blood/gore, detailed description of murder, lying, impersonation, theft, weapons, detailed panic attacks, symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder, kissing

CHAPTER WARNINGS: insinuated sexual assault, drug addiction (opioids)

Author’s Note: Happy Holiday Season, everyone! I’m sorry this was so late. Final exams and final research papers actually obliterated all of my time and creativity. However, I was determined to finish this chapter and get it out before the New Year. I hope it was worth the wait-- I’m thinking this will be the longest you will have to wait for a while. I should be able to go back to my previous semi-regular updating schedule (like every other week).

ps. i had more than half of this chapter formatted before tumblr decided to not work and deleted my progress. fuck.

Happy Reading!

- Dan

⇠ PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER ⇢

MASTERLIST

APRIL 13TH, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

“Ciel, what do you mean you were unaware that it is Marie’s birthday?” Lizzie’s smile faded, replaced by frustration in her eyes. In times like these, she most resembled her mother, attempting to keep a placid face despite her growing frustration. “Please, tell me you’re playing with me; you absolutely cannot be joking about this.”

When did Y/n decide to allow Lizzie to refer to her so casually? Ciel mused, but that was beyond the point. What mattered was that he now had to waste a day in celebration of a woman he had no desire to celebrate in the first place. He knew it was coming, more than aware where Princess Marie’s birthday appeared on a calendar. Unfortunately, that would be the same date as her vindictive twin, who had been impersonating her all this time.

Besides, Ciel had no way of knowing if Y/n even liked celebrating her birthday; he knew nothing about her childhood and teenage life. She could detest her birthday as he did his for all he knew. In all likeliness, he would never understand, given how closely she guarded her life’s complexities.

After all, Ciel’s birthday was the day of the fire that ruined his life, killing his family and destroying his home. The only present he received that year was a demon butler that he summoned from the pure hatred that poisoned his soul. Maybe Y/n’s birthday reminded her of the palace that was abusive enough to cause her to run away twice. 

“Lizzie, what I mean is: I have much more important things to worry about. Such as keeping her alive,” Ciel replied, sighing at the drafted letter in front of him. He was in the middle of penning a response to the man he put in charge of the hiring process for all of his new steamship fleets. Each ship needed a captain, a sufficient number of workers to load and unload heavy cargo boxes, and operators to keep the vessels working. Ciel had just finished reviewing each of his manager’s selections and was writing to approve each one. 

He lied, considering there was no real threat toward anyone besides himself. After all, the real Princess Marie was already dead, and all Ciel was “protecting” was her lying and bloodthirsty counterpart, sent to him as part of a ploy for his life. However, Ciel still had to remain consistent with each pretense. No one else could know the truth. 

“How could you be this obtuse?” Lizzie asked incredulously, with a newfound bluntness to her words. Ciel appreciated her more for it. “It’s the woman you love’s birthday today! You cannot sit idly by! I allowed our engagement to go to rubbish; don’t you waste that by not making her feel loved!” Lizzie exclaimed, quick hands pulling the half-written letter from Ciel’s focus to force him to focus on her. 

“Love her?” Ciel couldn’t fathom the idea of liking Y/n, much less loving her after gleaning the truth. It was a weakness, and if he hadn’t let himself grow so attached, he would not have needed the phone call to show him that Y/n was not Princess Marie of Schleswig-Holstein. There were too many signs that he let go because she made his heart drum in his chest with such ferocity he could hear it in his ears. “I don’t--” 

“Yes, you do love her,” Lizzie said with the same gumption Ciel noted during their private discussion at the wedding. They had a similar exchange; his cousin insisted he loved the princess, and he assured her he was incapable of all love. 

“One moment of her dancing with another man drove you half-mad,” Lizzie said, laughing sadly, despite the tears in her eyes. She dabbed at them with a napkin carefully. “I could only wish you would care for me that much.”

“I do care for you.”

“It’s not the same. Think about it.”

And he had thought about it. 

Y/n drove him half mad with her constant mimicry and her instantaneous sarcasm. Her relentless mind that formed such witticisms and strategy that either left Ciel defeated in a game of draughts or lying on the floor, writhing in pain. She hurt him. It was her mission to hurt him.

And yet, it was Ciel’s instinct to care for her-- beyond keeping her alive. Her smile painted his world. Her lips lit a fire in his stomach. When she laughed, shivers rolled down his spine. Even worse, Ciel would smile in response before he understood what he was doing. 

While it was his duty to care for both Lizzie and Y/n, he never found himself searching for ways to go out of his way and bring a smile to his formerly betrothed’s lips. Ciel never found himself thinking about Lizzie so much he felt deranged. He never would have offered an extension of his first kiss to his cousin in a fiery moment of unconstrained passion. A culmination of his frustration and the sheer depth of what he felt for the woman who both drove him beyond insanity and pulled him back into what felt like the body of a living human being.

He’d been a corpse. And she’d brought him back to life, forcing him to feel emotions he’d never-

Enough. 

He’d made himself blush. Damn it all. 

Ciel groaned, hiding his face in his hands. Days ago, he would never have allowed his cousin to see him so…vulnerable. But if not his cousin, who else? Ciel clearly couldn’t work through his emotions himself. Sebastian detested Y/n, and it didn’t take a genius to know why. If Ciel could feel himself changing, indeed, his soul was changing. It was brightening, and that wasn’t the sort of taste that lured a demon.

“Fine, fine,” he surrendered, ignoring his cousin’s delighted laugh. While he wasn’t sure he loved Y/n, there was some driving passion behind his feelings for her…despite her litany of deception and lies. “What do you reckon I do, then?” 

A half-decent Guard Dog would do nothing of this sort. He should have been writing detailed reports of his findings over the past several months to turn Y/n into the Queen, torturing her to find the name of her employer. It wasn’t possible for her not to know. He needed to understand the whole of this ploy she’d forced him through like a pathetic chess piece. 

But apparently, Ciel Phantomhive was ignoring his duties. He’d drafted that letter to Her Majesty over and over but discarded each attempt, unable to scribble the right words down. The right words to send Y/n to a probable execution.

Grinning broadly, Lizzie exclaimed, “we celebrate her birthday! You buy her a cake and presents, and make her feel like the most important person in your life, of course! I had Nadia make her the cutest dress,” she gestured to the delicately wrapped box in Paula’s hands. The pink bow atop the box bounced in the handmaid's hold. 

“I will inform Sebastian to stop at the jeweler’s,” Ciel said as if he were making funeral arrangements rather than planning a birthday dinner. He shouldn’t be celebrating this woman. He should have her tortured by Sebastian until they could extract the answers they required from her: who wanted him dead, and why, and how did she survive all of this time? Was everything she said to him a lie?

Ciel was weak, and for that, unsure if he could forgive himself. But he could live with that sort of hatred. He’d lived with it every day for years. Besides, for every bit Y/n weakened him, he had the same impact on her; he was sure of it.

That being said, he had the perfect gift for Y/n; a far cry from a dress or jewels Marie would desire. Sebastian could quickly stop at the bladesmith’s while he was out. Ciel began to sketch. 

. . .

Sebastian decorated the gazebo delicately, per Lizzie’s direction. Plush pink roses and vines twirled around each column supporting the roof, adding a graceful ambiance to the scene. The air smelled of flowers and sugary frosting as the demon walked the hitwoman’s birthday cake from indoors to the dining table; Y/n sat at the head, Lizzie forced Ciel to sit at her right hand, and she sat across from him. His servants filled the rest of the table, an oddity, but Lizzie wanted the celebration to be as meaningful as it could be on such short notice. 

“Happy Birthday, Marie!” Lizzie was the first to cheer as Sebastian approached with the dual-layered cake decorated with intricate frosting patterns Ciel struggled to see in the dim light. A half dozen candles sat around each layer, each lit, casting an orange glow over Y/n’s face as Sebastian placed the dessert before her. 

“Happy Birthday, Your Highness!” Mey-Rin, Baldroy, and Finny echoed, a little more reluctantly than Ciel would have liked. However, Lizzie failed to notice their hesitation, more fixated on the opulence of the frivolous cake Sebastian whipped together. 

Y/n merely offered a strained smile in response, her eyes searching. He could tell; she was wondering why they celebrated her birthday after Ciel condemned her to her fate. She wanted to be anywhere else. She distrusted Sebastian, such was evident by the way she flinched at the miniature, yet brilliant, flames atop each candle.  

Ciel had to admit, they made him a bit apprehensive as well. He focused elsewhere, returning his attention to Y/n’s skeptical expression as she listened to the exchange between Lizzie and Sebastian.

“Sebastian, this cake looks lovely! I cannot believe you’re such a talented baker,” Lizzie gushed, squinting at the complex designs, swirled eddies, and flowers made of frosting, all measured and perfectly symmetrical. 

“You are simply too kind, my Lady. I’m no one deserving of such high praise; I’m simply one hell of a butler,” Sebastian simpered, basking in the complimentary glow Ciel’s cousin cast all around her. He never received such praise from Ciel simply because his ego was so inflated it hardly fit in the manor, to begin with. 

“You really outdid yourself this time, Sebastian, yes you did!” Mey-Rin added, vehemently staring at her lap to avoid looking the butler in the eyes. Her face flushed red.

“Thank you, Mey-Rin,” the butler grinned slyly and bowed at the waist. He began preparing the Green Tea for the table, strategically picked to pair with Y/n’s favorite cake flavor. Or was it Marie’s favorite cake? 

“It would be a shame to keep everyone waiting any longer. This cake does look divine,” Y/n puckered her lips to blow out each candle. Thankfully, the scent of smoke dissipated quickly-- it was causing Ciel’s heart rate to steadily rise. He swallowed the lump in his throat, soothing his stress with a short breath. Once again, he caught the overwhelming scent of sugar and roses. 

The table broke out into applause and cheers, to which Ciel was late to engage, slowly clapping. Out of rhythm. 

Across from him, Lizzie sent him a vexed look, purposefully looking between him and Y/n, who plucked each candle off the cake to keep the wax from dripping onto the frosting. She hardly flinched at any unbearable heat from touching the hot candles. A princess would have asked a servant to do this for her, unwilling to put her fingers at risk of burning.

These slight hints should have exposed Y/n ages ago had Ciel not been so utterly daft.  

Wish her a happy birthday, you heartless fool! Lizzie widened her eyes at him, gesturing with her head.

Could she be more obvious? She might as well speak her mind at this point. 

Ciel felt his cheeks warm as he returned his focus to Y/n, trying to create some semblance of fondness to appease Lizzie. He was a brilliant liar; smooth lying should’ve come easy, but the words died on his tongue.

With a final withering look Ciel’s way, Lizzie carried the table’s happy atmosphere. Clearly, she was the only one invested in the celebration-- Y/n looked like she was considering several exit strategies, and Ciel’s servants were still reeling from the brawl she brought to them over a week ago. She was a force to be reckoned with, indeed. Much like Finny had a bruised abdomen to show for it, the discoloration under Ciel’s eyes and wrist had only cleared up a few days prior. 

“And Marie, did you know that it’s good fortune for you to make the first cut?” Lizzie asked, gesturing to the elegant, serrated knife Sebastian left aside the cake on the platter. 

“I did not,” Y/n lied with a tactful smile, meeting Ciel’s eye as her nimble fingers wrapped around the knife’s handle. She was mocking him, reminding him of the damage she could do with such a blade. His stomach lurched in response to both Y/n’s sardonic look and the sense of dread that came from witnessing her with a knife.

Y/n used two hands to wield the knife handle and force the blade into the cake’s bottom tier. She made a show of pretending there was notable resistance from the layers of cake, frosting, and filling. Please, she was strong enough to nearly have broken his wrist. And his nose! Who the devil did she think she was fooling?

Be honest, Ciel. A few days ago, you might’ve been fooled. 

After Y/n made the first cut into the cake, Sebastian did the rest of the hard work, cutting slivers for everyone at the table. The servants excused themselves to ‘help’ Sebastian with the cleaning. 

Lizzie hurried everyone through inhaling their cake because she wanted Y/n to open her gift: a complex aubergine dress with puffy sleeves, understated and graceful. The deep shade of purple complimented Y/n’s sharp eyes. 

Y/n didn’t have to pretend to be impressed by the dress; it was a decent selection. It showed ample thought on Lizzie and Nadia’s part, analysis of the deep and studious color palette Y/n favored, simple lace embellishments of the same shade, and a back that closed by a complex tying mechanism. 

“I love it, Lizzie, thank you,” Y/n said, running her fingers over the expensive satin. So as not to ruin the dress, she folded it neatly in the box, for the most part, tugging a sleeve out of it to get a better look. “I’ve never seen anything like this. Nadia is brilliant.”

“I’m so pleased that you like it,” Lizzie grinned, “but I think Ciel might outdo me tonight. That’s why I saved him for last.” She smiled, but her eyes threatened him: you did get her a gift, did you not?

“I’m not sure I would say that, but I did pick something for you, Your Highness,” Ciel admitted, setting aside his pride for the sake of his plan. He needed to act seamlessly to keep his cousin satisfied and unsuspicious. If Lizzie suspected something was wrong, she would never leave and, inevitably, find out the truth. After all, he was a skilled liar, but not even he could keep his frustration at bay. 

He pulled the velvet box from his pocket, the moment feeling annoying reminiscent of his impromptu ‘proposal.’ By the brief grim look on Y/n’s face, she drew the same connection but accepted the little box nevertheless. To her apparent relief, it wasn’t another ring but a pair of pearl drop earrings set in gold. Ciel didn’t know the intricacies of jewelry; he merely had his butler go to the jeweler's and pick something passable. Much like him, Y/n wouldn’t see the difference between freshwater cultured pearls from China (which they were) and glass imitation ones.  

“Those are incredible!” Lizzie gushed, gaping at the earrings with approval. 

“They are, yes,” Y/n agreed wryly, shutting the box with an air of finality. “Thank you,” she shifted in her chair as if she was fighting a suffocating desire to leave.

“My pleasure,” Ciel responded mechanically.

Naturally, Lizzie disapproved, watching the exchange with a frown. Of course, she was dissatisfied. And she wouldn’t leave if she was dissatisfied.

Ciel cleared his throat, “Your Highness, I actually…have another gift for you. But…I would prefer to show it to you…” it was excruciating to formulate each word. Alone. Without meaning to, he looked at his cousin pointedly. 

Catching his accidental look, Lizzie took it as a cue to act. She forced a yawn, dramatically pressing the tips of her fingers to her lips. She rolled her shoulders back in an exaggerated stretch. “You know, I am actually rather sleepy,” she said unconvincingly, “I shall go find Paula…and… take my leave! Goodnight, Ciel! Happy Birthday, Marie!” She said, slowly rising out of her chair, only to scamper away when she got to her feet. 

“-- Lizzie!” Ciel protested, feeling as if his cousin had left him abandoned at sea. Left adrift without a lifeboat to take him out of uncharted territory: facing Y/n in  disquieting neutrality. He stood to get a better look at his cousin as she grew further from his vision, calling for Paula. 

“I’m retiring for the night,” Y/n lied, finally standing. “You didn’t have to do this. I’ve never cared much about celebrating my birthday,” she took a step away, but before she could continue, Ciel stopped her, his hand nearly missing the back of her shoulder. 

“I had no choice. You know that.”

Y/n turned on her heel, combat-ready by instinct. “You did. She’s only your cousin now, it’s not like you have to maintain her happiness,” she shrugged her shoulder, frowning at Ciel’s hand. He refused to let her leave before he could finish his piece.   

“No, I—” he started to explain.

“You, what? Did you have more questions to solicit me with? I’ve told you everything I know about the woman. I’ve given you my bloody word, what more can you possibly want from me?” She raised her chin, daring him to challenge her. 

But Ciel knew what Y/n’s word was worth; he couldn’t trust her more than he could hope to fight her and live. Besides, the Undertaker said Y/n liked to have the complete picture of everyone she worked with; a sense of their backgrounds, grievances, and why they wanted someone dead. Without knowing the whole picture, she would not take on a mission like this. 

Ciel couldn’t even recall killing a natively Spanish household and leaving a pregnant woman alive. Could Y/n’s employer be lying?

“Just…” stop being so bloody stubborn and come with me. “...I decided to get you another gift. For you. Not who you pretend to be. Do you want it or shall I have the bladesmith melt it down and use the materials for something else?” Ciel demanded, letting his extended hand drop back to the side. Y/n’s mouth opened to formulate a response, but he wasn’t finished yet: “I will be waiting in the drawing room. Meet me there, or refuse. Your childishness is not my concern,” he feigned aloofness as he passed her, showing himself back inside. 

Ciel would have taken pleasure in saying that he genuinely couldn’t care if Y/n joined him. He wished his ego and heart were that fortified, but if he had claimed they were, he would’ve been lying to himself.

Instead, Ciel spent the next two hours glancing at the open door, using a copy of Nietzsche's Beyond Good and Evil to keep himself from staring at the door like an overattentive dog. 

Even worse, he wished he could say he was comprehending the German words he was reading, but that would be another lie aimed towards himself that was simply too far. Lying to someone else was excusable-- Ciel did it all the time, every day, every hour. 

Lying to himself would be weak. He was not weak. 

He could acknowledge that as he waited for Y/n, she was in the front of his mind. Not Nietzsche’s thinking, not his responsibilities as a good and vicious Guard Dog. No, he was wondering if she would show. If she would like his gift. What she might say. 

Perhaps he was weak. 

“I would’ve assumed you retired by now,” her voice made Ciel straighten his back, tense. His mouth felt dry. He fought his instinct to stand as he would have for an active royal. She wasn’t Princess Marie. He knew that, yet his muscle memory preferred treating her as so.

“I am aware of how stubborn you are. My only option was to simply withstand your thickheadedness and you would eventually surrender,” Ciel responded coolly, satisfied with the way he kept the quiver out of his voice. 

“In that case--” Y/n started, turning to leave. She’d hardly stepped foot through the threshold. 

“Y/n,” he interrupted her with a cutting stare. One might think he was urging her to drink a poison chalice rather than sit and open a birthday gift from him. On the couch in the drawing room…where they haven’t been together in what felt like ages. It was only a little over a week, but when Ciel thought of how things were before the phone call… it could have been a decade’s difference.

“Fine,” she snapped, taking a seat on the other end of the couch. As far as she could get. 

Really? She was the one who attacked him and nearly broke his nose! 

“I thought you might like something more to your tastes,” Ciel said, reluctantly offering the pristinely wrapped box to her. 

“You didn’t have to,” she inspected it before tearing the paper along the taped seams as if she wanted to preserve the wrapping. 

I know that; I don’t have to do anything. I wanted to. Don’t ask me why.

She opened the box to reveal a dagger, the blade sharp and forged from steel. The handle was made of white marble, its quillion sculpted into gold swirls, matching the bottom of the handle. 

This was one of the first times Ciel rendered her speechless, but her face told him everything he cared to know. Her eyes were wide as she took in the dagger’s every detail. Her face reddened, matching the soft pink roses Sebastian used to decorate the gazebo. Like one of Lizzie’s gowns.

Her dexterous hands tested the dagger, determining its weight and how the handle fit in her calloused palms. Ciel would know they were calloused-- he’s had the pleasure of holding them while waltzing. At the time, he’d presumed they were callused from the harp, not the everyday labor of an acting commoner and… the general toil of murder. 

“I’ve always preferred to use daggers. Ever since I started…” she began, her words something adjacent to a thank you. His neutral frown nearly cracked.

“What caused you to start?” Ciel asked before he could help himself. For a moment, Y/n looked like she was considering turning her new blade against him and slitting his throat, but instead, she merely sighed. She watched her reflection in the flawless blade, her face clear of makeup, her hair out of its sophisticated braid. 

Y/n moistened her lips, finally bringing herself to look at Ciel. Her thumb caressed the handle as she spoke, describing a day that took place… five years ago. March 1888. 

She was a poor 16-year-old, homeless and alone. Entirely out of stolen jewels from the German royal family, starving. It was pouring rain, and she had no other choice but to huddle under the scaffolding outside the Undertaker’s shop. Cold, wrapped in tattered blankets, watching the world continue without her. 

Nobody cared about her or the other homeless children living on the streets.

“My William did not deserve this. He was a good man. A good and honest man,” a woman’s insistent voice shook. Four children and another lady around the same age accompanied her. She cradled a baby in her arms while the other woman held an umbrella over her head as they left the Undertaker’s shop.

 “I know, Edith. I know. It was a terrible accident-” the other woman began, only to be cut off.

“It was no accident! Armed bank robberies are not accidents,” Edith refuted, allowing one of her daughters, presumably, to hold her hand while she used her occupied arm to cradle the swaddled infant. “William, the father of my children, was murdered. And you don’t understand what I would do to his murderers if I--” she whispered forcibly. 

“Those are not Christian thoughts,” her sister gasped, “you mustn’t think of the world in such a manner. God always has a plan, have faith in Him,” she urged, walking along Edith’s two sons. 

Y/n listened intently, studying Edith, listening to her. Her husband was probably William Wagner, one of the four tellers murdered in a violent bank robbery the other day. Established newspapers printed their names and obituaries alongside their portraits.

William Wagner: survived by his wife, Edith Wager, two sons, and two daughters, William Jr., John, Victoria, and Ava. 

The man had kind eyes and smile lines. Y/n couldn’t imagine the loss the family suffered…any more than she could imagine letting the scum who murdered him (and the other three men) live. 

Edith wanted to cleanse the world of evil, a Christian thought, and you wanted to afford a loaf of bread. And, of course, be the hand of karma. Justice itself-- if all the government wanted to do was hold prisoners in jail cells for the rest of their lives, wasting tax money on food to keep them alive. Meanwhile, they ignored the homeless children on the street, refusing them any money or food.  

Y/n could dispatch bank robbers for Edith and William. And she did, that night, using a trusty dagger that wasn’t much different from the one she held in her hands. She snuck into their holding cells under the guise of being one of their relatives, wanting to say goodbye. If they knew better, their guards didn’t care enough to stop her from killing them. 

Afterward, finding Edith’s home was simple. Dodging her grateful hug was not.

“I am not a senseless killer, Ciel,” Y/n said starkly, practically challenging Ciel to second-guess her. He was reluctant to. “You are the King of the Underworld. Not many people know what that means. I do, and in my professional opinion, you need not think long and hard about why someone called me to kill you.”

Ciel frowned. He thought about his Madame Red, all of the broken children he ordered Sebastian to incinerate each time his finger pressed into his shotgun’s trigger. 

She was a serial killer, Jack the Ripper. They were too traumatized to ever live a happy or decent life. Every time he shot, his bullet lodged itself into a criminal. 

They weren’t the same. They couldn’t be the same.

. . . 

APRIL 15TH, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

Ciel started his work day writing a letter to Her Majesty, Queen Victoria. Y/n and Princess Marie’s grandmother. His sovereign and employer. This was not the sort of inquiry he thought he would have to pen to the Queen of all individuals, but it was more time-efficient than sending postage to Germany. After all, the royal twins’ mother, Queen Helena, tended to spend most of her time racing around Europe to open charities. Any letter addressed to Queen Helena and sent to Germany would take ages to reach her desk. 

Besides, no reasonable Queen would allow her daughter to marry below her social caliber and outside the royal family. No sensible Queen. Ciel stood a fighting chance, seeing as the Phantomhive family was in Queen Victoria’s service for generations. 

Ciel’s bloodline was the closest to the monarchy without genuinely being a part of it. Queen Victoria would consider how valuable the Phantomhive line might be to her family-- particularly when she was already the Grandmother of Europe. A branch of her family tree ruled every established European country; there was no tactical advantage in Princess Marie marrying another German prince. 

Thus, he reached above Queen Helena’s authority. If Ciel could gain Victoria’s approval, he would be unstoppable-- no one would undermine her authority, not even her own daughter.

Ciel uncapped his pen and began to write, his handwriting pristine through balanced lines and even loops:

Your Majesty, 

I write to you with a request that might seem unfounded, but in truth, it has been months in the making. 

As you are aware, I was previously betrothed to my cousin, Elizabeth Cordelia Midford, since childhood. Though recently, she has opted to end the arrangement with her parents’ consent as a result of my untimely courtship. 

During my time as your granddaughter, Princess Marie-Louise of Schleswig-Holstein’s supervisor and protector, I feel that my…

The ill feeling in Ciel’s stomach stirred once more, threatening to reach his throat. He rubbed his forehead in a weak attempt to dispel his forming headache. 

He detested almost nothing more than expressing his feelings and asking for permission. To have to do both in one letter was almost more than he could manage.

Almost.

He picked up his pen again:

…emotions towards her have grown much more intense than I might have anticipated, from a respectful acquaintance that a guard might have to a feeling much more intense than such professionality. I feel that my connection with Her Highness has grown undeniable; to the extent there is too much intensity to deny both in public and…

Ciel hesitated.

to ourselves. While I could never presume to ask for Her Highness’s hand while she is promised to His Highness Prince Aribert of Anhalt, I do feel it is sensible of my station to first appeal to you. 

As per usual, I shall only act at your will and discretion. I am your Guard Dog, and I do put my duties to the Crown above all, including my personal feelings.

With Gratitude, 

Lord Ciel Phantomhive

With that, he folded the stationary into itself and fit it into an envelope. He poured wax over the envelope’s opening and pressed his family cress into the steaming liquid, immortalizing his family crest: the widespread two-headed eagle with a shield in front of it. Under this shield was a banner with the Latin for power and rule. Potentia and Regree, respectively. 

“Sebastian,” Ciel said, calling his demon back from the short errand he sent him on. His butler needed to deliver his outgoing postage and this newly drafted letter to the castle. Beyond that, Ciel was impatient to reap the results of Sebastian’s trip. And admittedly, he craved a decent parfait. 

Without wasting a moment, Sebastian breezed through Ciel’s office door, holding a sterling silver tray with a notebook the size of a dictionary and, of course, the parfait that occupied Ciel’s mind. The demon’s expression was as placid as ever. A surprise, considering he’d spent his morning investigating Y/n, someone he may detest more than Grell Sutcliff. Or even Pluto, the demon dog Ciel took in with the sole desire to bother him. 

“Yes, my Lord?” Sebastian chirped as he put a napkin on Ciel’s desk to avoid scraping from the glass's bottom. 

“Tell me about your findings,” Ciel responded, trading the stamp with his family seal for the small spoon to dig into his snack. He gestured to the notebook with his spoon as Sebastian unloaded it from his tray, placing it on Ciel’s side.

Ciel opened the notebook, scanning over the first page. Sebastian filled every line with the victim's name in chronological order. He started at the top, looking for the first name he did not directly recognize.

Cooper Finley

Amelia Dyer

Felix Keating

“Tell me about Felix Keating,” Ciel ordered, vaguely recalling the headline that appeared in the paper several months previous. Shortly before Y/n arrived at the estate. The businessman’s servant found him stabbed in the back of his carriage. Ciel didn’t mind the death, considering he was visiting London to see a play. Any commoner’s rage might have been provoked at the sight of a rich man amongst them-- Ciel had disregarded the murder. 

Sebastian obliged. “Mr. Felix Keating, a prominent iron manufacturing owner. Found murdered the night of December 17th, 1891 by his longtime coachman, Horace McLaughlin. Cause of death, blood loss due to a stab wound between his fourth and fifth ribs. All of this occurred several days after a legal court found Keating innocent of all dangerous workplace and child labor charges, following the death of Margaret Calvert, a young girl working in one of his factories. Poorly built machinery malfunctioned, causing it to combust and-”

“I understand,” Ciel interrupted firmly, having no desire to hear the gruesome details of a young girl’s demise. “And her parents?”

“Yes, I spoke to them. They were quite stubborn, but eventually, they came around. The husband, Eric, confessed to everything-- meeting Y/n, attempting to pay her, saddling themselves with an alibi-”

“Attempting to pay her?” Ciel said, ignoring Sebastian’s vaguely irritated look. The demon disliked when he interrupted him. 

“She refused to take the full sum of her pay,” the butler clarified. “Quite…merciful of her, considering their living conditions,” he continued, as if the compliment was difficult for him to admit.

Well, of course. They are factory workers who live in Birmingham. They could use all the money they could get. If they were affluent, they would not have had their daughter working at such a young age in the first place.

“I never requested your opinion, Sebastian,” Ciel chastised, only to further irk his butler, “now tell me about her first murder.”

While Ciel already knew about her first paid killing, one could only assume Y/n’s first murder had to be a different circumstance. No one decided to make a hobby out of slaughtering others without having done so successfully beforehand. 

“Gladly, my Lord. Investigating her first murder took me to the Dowager Baroness, Lady Cecilia Wright.” The demon smiled again, the look somewhere between fond and malicious. The same expression he wore after he extracted information from certain women. Like Beast. And that nameless nun. “Though we did have a meaningful discussion, she did insist on speaking with you, my Lord.”

Ciel fought the bile that threatened to rise up his throat. “Fine.”

“I thought you might agree, so I told her we would make a private appearance at her soirée tomorrow evening.”

. . . 

APRIL 16TH, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

When Ciel considered Lady Wright’s history, it made sense that Sebastian’s investigation of Y/n’s early life led him to her. The late Lord Steven Wright was murdered the morning of February 3rd, 1888-- four years ago and a month before Y/n’s first paid murder.

There was a suspicious amount of mystery surrounding Baron Wright’s death. From what Ciel recalled, an armed thief broke into the Wright estate, resulting in the Baron’s murder. While the paper prided itself on the specific details it published, this case was particularly vague, leading the public to suspect there was something…more to it. However, it didn’t concern the Queen, and evidently, what was no concern to Her Majesty, was no concern to Ciel. 

Besides, Cecilia Wright’s estate was now a popular destination for elegant and frequent parties-- no one missed the Baron, an avaricious man known for toeing the law with technicalities. Perhaps, Her Majesty was pleased with his demise. 

“You’ve put together a lovely party downstairs. People seem to be enjoying themselves,” Ciel broke the leisurely silence between him and the Baroness. She led him from the intense party to a room that seemed to be converted from an office to a sitting room. Sebastian waited outside the door because Ciel could hardly tolerate the evident flirtation between Lady Wright and his butler. It was tough to watch, and Ciel had withstood even the most gruesome sights.

“It truly is amazing when your imbecile of a husband dies and you have no children to continue his ridiculous legacy?” Lady Wright’s smile spread slowly, a little deranged. Her forehead creased as she grinned, matching the smile lines on either side of her lips. Despite being a noblewoman, her cheeks were sunken in, matching the deep bags under her tawny eyes. Her pupils practically swallowed her brown irises, making them appear like twin black abysses. 

Ciel’s first instinct would have been to express his condolences for her lack of children, but her maniacal smile said otherwise. 

“Everything he owned is mine. All the money, the property… I love my life,” she rambled, her gloved hands fiddling with her gold bangles until she stopped abruptly, staring into Ciel’s gaze. Her smile melted. “And I did not murder my husband to achieve this life if that is why you are paying me this visit, Queen’s Guard Dog.”

Ciel found her face disarming whether she smiled or not. Her eyes still shone with a certain lack of sanity, whether she looked like the party’s hostess or a manic killer. He straightened his posture in response to her change in demeanor.

“Of course not. I know your husband’s killer, and I know you know her as well. I wish to question you about her.” Ciel corrected her, his words causing her to relax once again. “Y/n Y/l/n,” he added to prompt her into speaking since the girl probably asked (threatened) her to keep her mouth shut.

“Yes, that was her name,” Lady Wright hummed, a hyperactive hand coming to twirl at one of the adlib strands of hair that framed her face. Her auburn hair was graying at the roots. 

“Would you tell me exactly what happened the night of the Baron’s murder?

She raised a thin eyebrow, “and why would you need that sort of information? Are you meaning to apprehend her for a murder carried out four years ago?” 

“Not at all. I would only like to…understand her history more,” Ciel answered truthfully. If he was to live with someone who lied to his face repeatedly, slowly reeling him into an inappropriate relationship without imagining a bullet between her eyes, he had to understand who she was. He deserved to understand who she was. In total-- beyond what she chose to disclose. 

Lady Wright was unconvinced.

Ciel took a hurried breath in, growing frustrated with the Baroness. What else was he supposed to say?

I need to know everything about her. She’s an unending mystery, and I want to understand her. Put all of the pieces together. I need to justify not turning her into the Queen for who she is. I need to justify why I thought to press my lips against hers when I had a knife to her throat. 

He must have looked more tortured than he meant to because Lady Wright smiled. She laughed warmly, a quivering hand settling over her heart. 

“I understand, Lord Phantomhive,” her eyes sparkled. “Your face tells me everything I need to know. You love her.”

“Love is not an emotion I understand nor feel,” Ciel’s frown deepened. Y/n drove him to the very brink of sanity. He detested her, yet, he could never force himself to drive her away. Love couldn’t be this maddening. An emotion made to bring people together couldn’t hurt this much. 

“My Lord. No one understands love,” Lady Wright corrected. “Stop fooling yourself trying to understand it. You must be wiser than that.”

“Fine,” Ciel mumbled, his gaze casting off to the side. “I understand.”

“Now let me tell you about the girl I met four years ago,” Wright started, sitting back in her chair. “Y/n broke into this estate through the servant’s entrance and found our quarters in the early morning. I only caught her when she started crying afterwards, wailing on our carpet…getting blood all over it.”

“And the sound of Baron Wright bleeding out next to you failed to-”

“Yes,” Lady Wright interrupted Ciel crisply, “I am a heavy sleeper. Your darling butler knows this. Now would you let me speak? Incredibly rude to interrupt a lady.”

Ciel nodded once, fighting the temptation to roll his eyes.

“I asked her why she killed him and she told me he sent men to her home and they killed someone important to her over an inane plot of land. Then they tried to…hurt her,” Lady Wright said meaningfully, her fingers returning to the gold bangle that hung around her skinny wrist. “She killed all three of them. And my husband, which I took no issue with- I was sure that the bastard was cheating on me, anyhow.”

He considered her words: three men dead, a close friend dead. From conning Steven Wright for over some land. The most common land scam in the business world was claiming to have purchased over acres within a foreign country, making a fake contract, and selling it for money before the buyer could go overseas and validate the claim made. Ciel imagined something of that caliber took place. It would have been much too easy to pull off, considering Y/n was fluent in German. 

“She took me to that shack of hers and it was truly gruesome,” Wright reminisced with the same sick grin. “Four men. Dead. I had to ask my most loyal staff to help us clean. You know, I wanted to take Y/n in and raise her, but she refused me. Heaven knows why.”

Because you are 59 and wearing elbow-length gloves to hide the wounds from your opioid addiction. What 16-year-old in their right mind would want to be ‘taken in’ by you?

“And you are certain that your husband caused harm to her and killed her friend?” Ciel asked, holding onto his very last shred of hope that Y/n was a serial murderer with no motivation. They simply could not be of the same occupation because that would mean Ciel had significantly less of a reason to dislike her.

“Yes, completely,” Lady Wright answered. “Insurmountable proof of personal violation and her friend…I believe his name was…Bernard? Benjamin?” she hesitated, unconvinced by the names that surfaced to mind before her face lit up, “Baxter! Was a corpse on the floor. She was clearly distraught over the man.”

And that revelation nearly made Ciel the same level of ill that he felt when he stared into Amelia Dyer’s dead eyes. When he realized that the girl he knew as Princess Marie was a killer set to make him his next target. 

Only now, he realized that perhaps…this killer might have been better than he was.

After all, Ciel dispelled evils that worried Her Majesty. Y/n worked to dispel evils that caused direct harm to the underrepresented- a pair of factory workers from Birmingham. For less than half the sum of her pay! Ciel took generous compensation from the Queen, no matter how insistently he told her he required no payment for her bidding.

Y/n was correct to say it didn’t take a lot of thinking to understand why someone might wish Ciel dead. 

In truth, she was better than him.

. . .

Tags:

[leggerefiore]

{Chatting}

First off, love Emin. He is the best and sweetest husband and we all would kill for him.

If you wanted something for him to write moten letters about, you wrote a thing once, I think? Where Emin and the reader were childhood friends, moved in together, and then confessed their mutual feelings.

So Emin could have written love letters he never meant to send during all the years he spent pining, just to get his feelings out do he didn't explode~

~Spark💥

emin induced amnesia. i did write a piece where he had a childhood friend romance lol

Bestest friend,

My mom said that being honest is verrrry important! So, I'm writing this to be truthful! Like Reshiram! I like you! A lot! You're my favourite person! I want to spend aaaaaall my time with you and be your favourite person, too! I want to play fun games like tag and house until we both pass out in my bed! I think I love you! Please write me back or meet me at recess or outside school!

— Emin

~

The ten-year-old reread his letter again and again before sighing. His Klink hovered by him and gave encouraging grinding. He shook his head and hid it in a toy train.

~

My crush,

I have no idea how to tell you this, but I love you. No, wait. That's not right. I do love you, but I also want to tell you why! We've been friends since kindergarten, as you took care of him in a way to help with my horrible shyness. Every time I think of your smile, I just feel warm. Happy. Content. I love you, as I said. You talk with me even when I have a mood of not wanting to speak much. My lonely childhood faded the minute you entered my life. I love you. I want to marry you one day!

No, once again I'm getting ahead of myself. I just want to thank you, especially for being my friend and caring for me. Doing homework and hanging out with you have become extremely important parts of my life. I want you to always been in my future. Being separated from you seems sad. So…

I love you!

— Emin

~

The teenager flushed at his letter and tossed it into the bin beside his desk quickly. His Klang made harsh sounds at his cowardice.

Later.

He'd definitely try again later.

(Klang sneaked the letter out and hid it in a toy train he still held on to.)

~

My beloved,

Where do I begin? You're my closest friend and person whom I rely on more than any other. How often do you scold me to take time off and care for myself? How often do you visit me to give me friendly company? I can't even begin to count. You continue to take care of me and be my friend even after so many years of knowing one another. I truly doubt that I would be the same without you. Your encouragement to pursue my dreams of being both a conductor and pokemon trainer helped immensely in getting me where I am now. There are not enough ways to thank you, truthfully.

Many times in the past I have written letters like this one in order to confess my feelings to you, but all have been tossed away. Once again, I write to tell you that I love you. Your companionship is something I desire much more than I could ever truly admit aloud. I want to make up all your kindness by being the most caring, adoring boyfriend I can be. Of course, that's only if you are alright with that! No pressure. I respect any boundaries you want or need as always.

Though… I wish I could tell you just how verrrry beautiful you are. I adore your smile. I love seeing you pop in at the station and gift me a lunch… Your sweetness has fully entrapped my heart. I doubt I could find another after you…

I love you. Completely.

— Emin

~

The Subway Boss tossed the paper into the bin again as he buried his bright red face into his grey coat sleeves. Foolish! He was verrrry stupid! Love you? He should be content to just simply remain your friend. He swallowed dryly.

Klinklang took the paper again when their master had left the office. Into the train once more.

A train the pokemon presented to you during a visit to Emin's office.

[itsinherblood]

Nyctophobia

A solo for itsinherblood Written by Trystan Uzui

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

During our childhood many of us will experience discomfort towards, or even a flat-out fear of, the night or of darkness. Upon realizing this, our parents will attempt to comfort us by telling us that there “isn’t anything to be afraid of in the dark”. We’ll be told that the night only lasts for a short few hours, and that the sun will be rising and back in the sky before we know it. Some will go an extra mile by sitting beside us until we fall asleep, checking under our beds or closets for monsters, or giving us some form of ‘night light’ so we aren’t completely surrounded by darkness as we try to fall asleep for the evening. 

These remedies may work for some people, and their seemingly irrational fear of the night and or darkness will just fade away. And eventually, they’ll be in their parents’ position, explaining to their children that there was nothing to be afraid about in the dark.

But not everyone is so lucky… 

Sometimes the darkness continues to make us uncomfortable, past our childhood and well into our adulthood. The reasons for this, however, aren’t as easily grouped together because it’s different for each person. Though quite a few of those who continue to experience nyctophobia will have a traumatic event that will affect how we feel about darkness forever. 

I was one of these people… 

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

Within my village, my mother was what was known as an itako—in layman’s terms it was something like a spiritual medium. Typically these women were blind, and often started the training process for this profession when they were young, but my mother could very much see and didn’t start her “training” until she got a hair up her ass and decided that being a medium was the best use of her particular skills. 

And by skills, I mean her uncanny ability to be able to lie and people genuinely believe her.

Without going on and on with a bunch of details I’m sure none of you care about, I’ll go ahead and skip to how this is relevant to my continued discomfort towards the dark… My mother would often have me assist her during specific rituals for clients—especially the ones that involved removing a spirit that was haunting them. Before the client would arrive, my mother would put together two different “teas”. The first one was for the client, which contained foxglove, elderberries, and valerian root (or lavender if we happened to be out of valerian that day). The elderberry would cause perspiration, the foxglove would induce nausea and vomiting, and the valerian root or lavender would finally have the client passing out and sleeping. While the second mixture also had elderberries, a pinch of valerian root or lavender, and juniper; the latter ingredient the most important part of the secondary mixture, which would cause seizures.

When the haunted individual would arrive, my mother would perform a song, and recite a couple of sutras while the client drank their “tea”. Then she would watch as the client started to sweat… get nauseous… throw up… and finally pass out. She would then open the client’s mouth, and gently scrape the inside of her cheek and tongue, removing the “evil”[spirit] that had been attached to the client. While reciting another sutra, my mother would place this spirit into the second cup, stirring it several times, before promptly placing the cup into my hands. 

And with no hesitation, I would down the mixture, ultimately drinking the evil spirit and containing it within my own body. Soon afterwards, I would start to experience seizures, which would signify that the spirit was trapped within me and the client was cleansed of the evil that had been terrorizing them. By the time that I woke up, I’d see the client graciously thanking my mother, providing payment for her services and leaving our home, feeling like a huge weight had been lifted off of their shoulders. 

My mother would wait until she was certain the client was long gone and out of ear shot, before cackling and calling them an idiot. 

“What spirit in their right mind would haunt them anyway?” She’d often say. “Not even a bored one would bother with them!” She would then help me sit upright, and promptly pat me on the head, telling me that I had done well and she’d be making my favorite food for dinner that night. And like all of the other times I had done this ritual with her, I would nod and promptly thank her.

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

Now I’m sure you’re wondering why this would cause me to be afraid of the dark, because honestly, it just seemed like an overall shitty thing my mother would have me partake in but didn’t really have anything to do with the night or darkness. And you have every right to think like this, really you do. But I’m not quite finished with how those faux itako rituals play a role in my nyctophobia today. 

So let me continue. 

My mother tended to seek out her own clients for these rituals. 

What I mean by that is she’d go for a stroll in the town during the mornings and afternoons, visiting shops or other places in the communal parts of towns, eavesdropping on those around her to find people she could swindle out of money. 

For example, if she happened to hear a woman talking about the lack of sleep she had been getting the past week, my mother would turn on her uncanny charm and start talking to her, and within the hour that poor woman would genuinely believe that she was being haunted by a spirit and beg my mother for assistance. Or she’d overhear a fisherman who hadn’t had the best of luck fishing the last two times he had been out, and my mother would have him believing that he had some sort of curse upon him and she was his only chance to get rid of it. There were some people who sought her out themselves, but in reality they were quite a rarity. 

But it was those specific clients that were the real problem.

To backtrack just a little, my entire family has quite a potent sixth sense. It’s been that way for generations, and my older brothers and I were no exception to that. From the moment we would see our first ghost, our sense would continue to get stronger and stronger. My father, my aunts, and my uncle said that it was almost annoying how powerful it was—it was like a bright light that had no damn off switch.

By the time that my mother had started to feed me the troubling spirits of her clients, I had already seen the ghosts of the elderly couple that used to live in the house next to ours; they would often come watch me play out in the yard, keeping an eye on me like a pair of grandparents would their beloved grandchild. It made me smile, considering I never had the opportunity to meet my actual grandparents since my dad’s parents had died by the time that I had been born, and my mother…well, she didn’t speak to anyone from her family besides one of her sisters. So her parents might as well have passed away too, as I had no idea who they were or how to get ahold of them.

Anyway—the few clients my mother had who sought out her help themselves, those were the ones who actually had spirits attached to them. If I even could call them spirits; they were figures completely made out of shadows that loomed over the troubled clients and made the air in the room difficult to breathe in. When I saw those things, I genuinely felt afraid, and by the shakiness I could hear in my mother’s voice as she sang and performed the sutras, I knew that she was unsettled too. 

But money was one thing that my mother would overcome her fears for… 

And I couldn’t argue with her in the middle of the rituals, or simply tell her that I wouldn’t do them. Because I was far more afraid of my mother than I was any ghost. So when it was my turn to drink the spirit and seal it away within me, I did it. But I honestly wish that I hadn’t. 

The shadows would disperse from the clients, and suddenly were surrounding me. 

Instead of being completely made from shadows, though, I could now clearly see what they looked like. Their aura was heavy and putrid, which made me feel a type of nausea that no amount of throwing up would alleviate. I could tell that these spirits were pure evil, in a human appearing form. Their skin was stained with blood, which I assumed had to be from victims they killed while they were alive. And the way they would just… smile… at me when we would look at one another had me feeling nothing but absolute dread. 

These were irredeemably evil spirits. 

And while they would eventually disperse from my side at some point, consuming a part of them opened up the door for me to continue to see rather disturbing ghosts for the rest of my life. Honestly I’m sure that I would eventually have come across one on my own if I hadn’t been subjected to rituals by my mother, but, I will never quite forgive her for forcing me to deal with them from such a young age. 

One saving grace I hold onto is the fact that the more evil the spirit, the more likely it is they won’t be out and about during the daytime. I haven’t ever come up with an explanation as to why that was, but, I wouldn’t harp on it either because I would hate to see these types of ghosts all of the time; day in and day out.

I could happily make do with just having to come across them at night… in the darkness.

But they’re why my nyctophobia never subsided like most children.

And sometimes I don’t know what’s worse in terms of what I happen to see during the evening. 

Demons… 

Vile human beings who prey on others during the night… 

Or evil spirits who truly embody the word ‘terrifying’… 

[0613magazine]

221010 Proof Collector's Edition

V

Between the past, present, and future, which one do you think of as most important?

I think of the present as the most important. More than the past or the future, the present will be able to tell me how I am and my current place the best. I can’t hold on to the past or the future but the present is the time that I am going through right now. I feel that if you pay attention to the past and the future, you would end up missing the things that are important right now. So, I think the present is the most important. Also, I think the present can change a lot based on how I view the world and the worries that allow me to go forward and the stress is all here in the present. So I want to say present. 

The word “past” what does it mean to you?

Memories and the start. Since all the experiences I have right now all started in the past. Concerts, award shows, songs I have sung, everything….

When you think of “past”, what kind of emotion do you feel?

It’s a feeling that you have met someone after a long time. This soft feeling. It feels like meeting your elementary school friend after many years. 

What is your first-ever memory?

When I was young, I lived with my grandmother and grandfather. I think my first memory is having a stroll with my grandmother and grandfather in the park and having fun. Thinking about my childhood makes me miss my friends who I hung out with during kindergarten. 

What is your first meaningful place/space?

My own personal room I’ve gotten for the first time. It was when I was living in the dorm at Hannam-dong. I think it was meaningful because it was the first time I got a personal room at the dorm. 

In your mind, how old do you put yourself as?

30 years old. As I entered the adult world earlier than others, I didn’t have time to enjoy the various feelings and emotions that only you can have when you are a student. Also learned about the real world around the first year of high school. So I feel that I’ve grown faster in some parts. It is somewhat saddening. Thinking about those, I feel that my age inside is staying at an older age than my real age. 

While living as BTS, do you think there was a change that made Kim Taehyung, as an individual, more clear or faded?

Life as Kim Taehyung I believe has faded. But life as V has gotten a lot more clear instead. There were more times I spent as V so there were more things I thought about and focused on as V. I think there was not enough time to focus on living as Kim Taehyung. So I am trying to find something about myself as Kim Taehyung even if it’s reckless. Also even if my color is not vivid. I believe that unclear color is also pretty so I don’t tend to purposely try revealing myself. I want to become vivid naturally. 

If there was an effort you have put in for Kim Taehyung and V to ‘coexist’, what would it be?

For the two to coexist, I tried to make them into two different people. I left Kim Taehyung as it is as there are personalities of mine that I can’t avoid. As for V, I tried to show my different side or another self. To express that I put an iron plate on my face (laugh) I gave distinction and tried to show two different side

How similar is your usual self in real life compared to the BTS member (you are) shown to the world?

When standing as BTS on stage it’s a little bit different, but at least I think the image shown in the variety show is identical. 100%. Shooting a variety program called <Run BTS> I think I showed myself exactly how I am a lot. I think even right now I continue to show my real self with no embellishment. 

What is “myself as it is” like?

Honest. I don’t like talking things around. If there is something I want to do, or talk about, I tend to do it right away. 

Is the current ‘Me’ and the past ‘Me’ different?

There are parts that have changed. The past ‘me’ was just bright and liked other people. Now I have more concerns and my thoughts have deepened. Liking people is still the same. But if there’s any change, I now like ‘my people’. It also takes a long time to recognize that a person is “my people’ when I meet them. 

Looking back, what was the darkest moment for you?

I think during ‘FAKE LOVE’, it was the darkest moment. I don’t think I was able to overcome the song myself. The reason I was able to withstand that, despite it, was thanks to ‘time’. The time became light. There was a moment when the direction of my thinking process changed gradually over time. It didn’t change at once like flipping a coin, but gradually, very slowly. 

If you were to write a letter to yourself in the past, what would you want to write?

I’m going to write, ‘You already have the answer’. I want to tell him “The answer that you were thinking is already out anyways so don’t be confused and struggle with the process”. When I was on the path to choose and I had no confidence in myself and was confused, I constantly remembered the thought and thought about it a lot. But when I think about it, the path I chose and the answers were already inside me. There was no need for me to be confused about it but I was so confused which is the most regrettable part of me in the past. With that being said I want to write a letter like that. 

Who would be the person that would be able to talk about you well the most?

My people. The people around me to who I am the closest. 

If there is something in life that is an indispensable existence, what would it be?

The temperature of heart/mind. I think it would be scary if the temperature of the heart disappears. I feel that if I can’t feel the temperature and can’t tell the difference between warm and cold, I won’t be able to recognize my own people and I won’t be able to distinguish between good and bad.

Is there something you have been constantly telling yourself recently?

I say “Ah, I’m bored” the most.

How fast in km do you think you are going right now?

On the car dashboard, you will read 100km but feel like going 2000km? The reason why 100km is on the dashboard is because I am still busy. The reason why the speed feels like 2000km is because I am still a laid-back person. I am far from the type of person who is busy. So, everything feels faster than what it really is. But now that I think about it, 2000km sounds too fast so should I say 500km? (Laugh)

Is this speed something you set or a speed you are following?

I think it’s the speed that I am following. Life as BTS in general goes around fast. There are a lot of stages/performances and lots of other things we have to do. So gratefully we are receiving so much love and to return that thanks we are going at a really fast speed. As BTS has to work hard at the current progress, even if the pace is a little different from my personality, I try to match it to that. I think members would be the same.

If there is something you are focusing on these days, what would you say it is?

I have a lot of interest in jazz. The atmosphere itself is also very nice. For me, when I listen to jazz-style music, I feel like I am being loved by music. I feel that feeling a lot. It’s also a part that comforts me. There are many songs in jazz that make me feel that way. 

Do you have a song you would like to recommend?

I want to recommend an artist named Etta James. I feel like it’s telling me “you’ve worked hard” through music. So, when I am alone at home, inside the car alone after work I listen to these Jazz music and get comforted. When that happens I think that music is really amazing. I am really happy that there is music that comforts me and music that loves me. 

Which color do you think best describes you?

Red. I like the intense/fierce feeling. Even in red there are many different colors within it. Those colors all have different vibes but just one thing, the ‘fierce/intense’ feeling is always included no matter what. I want to have that variety of fierceness. I put a lot of effort into showing various sides of me.

If you were to put yourself as a scent, which scent would it be?

It’s hard to pick one since I have a lot of scents that I like. I think there is no answer to it because the smell I like keeps changing. But I would like to be a person who smells like the scent that the other person likes. 

What is something that has changed and hasn’t changed as time passed?

I struggled when I was young because I couldn’t handle the work that I was doing, but now I try to enjoy it while doing it. There are times when it does go well as I thought, but I make myself determined to enjoy things even if the things I am doing are a bit difficult. 

Do you have a belief that you uphold firmly?

I got to be healthy for the people who love me, which is a belief I hold. In the past, I didn’t think taking care of my health was important so I can’t say that I upheld it firmly but these days I think about my health as a priority no matter what. I realized that if I get hurt or something in concerts, in the end, I can’t show what I wanted to show. So, I put health as my number one priority and try not to get hurt. 

During the day, what time do you think it’s your time for yourself?

2-3 AM. I feel it’s completely time for myself. It is also the time when I am not working. The time I am able to wrap the day is about 2 AM. I can also say it’s time for Kim Taehyung.

Is there a thought you always think about before going to sleep everyday?

Before, every time I went to sleep I said to myself ‘today let’s try to get more than 7 hours of sleep’. When I had insomnia, I mainly thought, ‘I need to sleep’. I also think it’s because it was when I had a lot of morning schedules. Because of this thought, ‘I have to sleep now so I can wake up early’, I couldn’t fall asleep even more, and that bit its tail after another and continued. Now I don’t have many thoughts. Now that my insomnia is gone, I like the little things that I do in the early morning hours. I think about, let me apply some lip balm, let me go to sleep after having one more sip of water, let me read some webtoons, let me turn on some YouTube of wood burning. These days, since I don’t have a lot of morning schedules I do little things that I need to and move as the flow goes and naturally go to sleep without being worried about time.

Out of the dreams you had recently, are there any that are memorable?

In my dream, I went to the beach with 8-9 people who I am close with. We walked on the shore together, played volleyball, and played dodgeball. Then, I am being serious, but all those people got eaten. Typically when you are in the ocean, you would get eaten by creatures like sharks. Unbelievably they got eaten by clams, some got taken away, some disappeared, and stuff. I also suddenly got eaten and became a ghost. It’s a dream that I had recently which made me think ‘What was that, what kind of dream is this?’.

How did you feel in the dream?

It was really funny. I was able to somewhat feel that it was a dream because there was no way I could think that it was real. So even in the dream, I was like “what is this?” and had fun. When I laugh in my dream, I have some kind of feeling that I don’t want to wake up from it. To be honest, dreaming is something I usually forget what it was about just after 5 minutes pass, but it’s fun and I like it when dreams are fun.

If you were to look at life as one road, how far do you think you came now?

I believe that I haven’t even come halfway. If you were to say that life is about 100 years, I am 28 years old so I am a little past a quarter of my life. Since I haven’t come very far there are a lot of things I want to do in the future, and a lot of things I want to prove. I don’t want to predict what is at the end of this road and just go for it also not even one chapter of my life ended. I think if I wrap up about one chapter, I will know what I want to do, and the perspective of how I look at life will be more clear.

What are three keywords that would be able to define you?

Love, Health, and Happiness. I can’t think of any other words than those because for me love is important, happiness from love is important, and to repay those I love or those who love me I need to be healthy. I believe those three are something I must have.

Do you believe there is a predestined fate?

I have always believed that destiny was real. There will be multiple paths to choose from but there is only one direction that I want to go to. I believe that the group, BTS will be part of my life whatever happens, even when I hit my 50s or become a grandpa. In that sense, I believe that fate is real.

Are there any characters from a movie or a drama that you would like to resemble?

Thomas Shelby from <Peaky Blinders>… please watch it. The mood is no joke. There is something that I cannot express… something that I can’t describe. I will make sure to show you one day and I plan to do so! I will show you when time passes a little more.

If you were able to go to another dimension, do you have any place you would like to go to?

I want to stay here. The people who are precious to me are here. So my priority is making good memories with these people.

If you were to make a documentary about yourself, which song do you want to put on the ending credit?

I am making my “All-time song”. It will be finished one day. The title, I feel that I might change it after saying but under the premise that it’s a temporary title, it’s ‘Color’.

Personally, what is the most meaningful album out of the whole BTS discography? 

<LOVE YOURSELF 轉 ‘Tear’>. During the time I was working on this album, I was struggling the most and it was also difficult. I feel like it’s an album that I couldn’t overcome in many ways. So it’s also an album that always remains homework for me. 

Now how does the album feel?

When I hear this album, I still remember the struggles I had at that time. I think the emotion and the feeling are still exactly remaining. I also think that I wasn’t able to pull off the song “FAKE LOVE’ itself properly.

When was the “Moment of Proof”?

When the song I wrote got chosen and released for the first time. Staying with people who work on music, I naturally started working on music as well and with luck, that got chosen. So my first work was able to be released into the world. You don’t know how excited I was. Thinking about it now, I think that was my “moment of proof”.

Not to the world but is there something you want to prove to yourself?

I want to grow. I want to be a person who can constantly grow. I want to show myself that I am constantly growing and want to see the end of the growth. 

Singularity 

What does this song mean to you?

Actually, it’s a song that I met at a time when I was in deep thoughts and confusion between Kim Taehyung and an artist named V. Now that I have overcome that period, the song has a special meaning as it feels like it’s a song from that time which became a footstep of when I was able to accept myself as Kim Taehyung, and as an artist named V. 

Like in the ‘Singularity’ comeback trailer, if the face inside the pond talked to you, what would you be saying?

I am not good at games like ‘Whisper challenge’. So, no matter what I say, I don’t think I would be able to understand it. (Laugh)

Is there a ‘different face’ that you want to show?

I believe that I continue to show a different side based on the song and the stage. So through the song, I made another conscious for the stage as close as possible to the given role in the song. I really love and like (seeing) the changes based on songs in vibe, walking style, power from the eye. I think those are my other different faces. Every time a new song comes, I show a new ‘Me’. I hope you can watch those moments very well. 

00:00

What does this song mean to you?

It’s a song I listen to a lot. The melody is nice and the lyrics are really good. I especially like 00:00’s time. 

When you are having a difficult day, how do you comfort yourself?

I try to empty my head and not think about anything. To clear my head, I would play games, watch movies, drink a glass of alcohol, or have a chit chat. I try to do something where I can focus on one thing. 

What is something that comforts you the most?

Just that I exist together with my people gives me comfort and solace.

Is there something you have newly discovered about yourself?

I think I go well with whiskey. These days I mix whiskey and tonic water and drink it. It’s delicious. It’s nice that I don’t get headaches or hangovers. Before I only drank wine. Whiskey is, to be honest, it’s been exactly 10 days since I started drinking whiskey, (laugh) and it’s good as a wrap for the day. The day I drank whiskey for the first time, it was about 7 am and it snowed. It was sleeting so I opened the curtain for a brief moment and it was really nice that it snowed. Also, I think I like seeing the moon outside of my window. When I drink, I turn off the light for a moment and look at the mood that has risen over the Han River if I think that I’m going to get a little tipsy. It’s really pretty. So there is a song titled “소등” (Lights out) and I don’t know where the file went. It’s such a shame. 

What kind of emotional state are you in during 00:00?

It depends on each day. There are times when I am excited, some days when I am bored…usually during those hours I play online games with my acquaintances. It’s like a wrap of the day. When work is over, come home, and get on the game, the older brothers all are playing games. Then I say “I’m here” and we all play games. We meet online, sometimes meet up in person, and hang out. The feeling at that moment is “it’s fun”.

How about just imagining that time stopped for just one day? What would you do if you were in a situation where you were the only one conscious and able to move?

I think I would try to wake people up. “Hey! Wake up! What are you doing here!” like this.

What does the album <Proof> mean to BTS?

<Proof> is an album that organizes one tempo, if you were to look at it in a bigger view, one season for me. I think the best description would be, an album that wraps up one stage in the big life of BTS. It’s that important but I also think it’s actually hard to put such a big meaning to it also. But if we were to put a meaning to it, you can think of it as timing to all catch their breath for a short moment. (Laugh)

English translation by: bomharu1230 Photo credit: mahoneysuga

[softer-ua]

I’m really thinking about how little context 1A actually has for Bakugo and Dekus relationship and it’s absolutely hysterical oh my god

Zero of their fights or altercations have ever been explained and Bakugo looks like an absolute loon

Like let’s just focus on what Iida, one of Dekus best friends, has to go off of

Sees them sitting together at the entrance exam

Is asked on day one if he thinks Deku actually has a quirk???

WATCHES BAKUGO LUNGE AT DEKU DAY 1

Had Bakugo abandoned him in the middle of a test to go and blow up part of the building they are in so he can try to almost* murder Deku, surprise they lose

Sometime around here he finds out they’re childhood friends

Has just arrived back from getting help to see bakugo jump in at the last second like his life depended on it to stop a mysterious warp villain getting to Deku

Watches Bakugo OBSESS over Deku the entire sports festival

Deku chooses his hero name after what he knows to be the insult that Bakugo gave him as a nickname

Has to bare witnesses to Bakugo call Deku out in the middle of class and hold eye contact with him until the entire world outside the 2 of them fades to gray, only then can Bakugo announce to the entire class that the way Dekus using his quirk pisses him off and that he’s going to prove himself to be better than him in the exam

The way Uraraka immediately follows that scene up with “oh it must be because of the way Deku was bouncing around yesterday” like okay yeah sure that was the important take away form that scene 😂

Oh Aizawa paired them for the exam solely based on their relationship, okay

Watches that exam go down, yeesh

Sees Deku go ape shit at camp over Bakugo

Has to go save Bakugo with Deku and doesn’t really ever question it

Sees Bakugo try to square up with Deku at the fucken pool

Oh we’ve been in the dorms for like 24 hours and Bakugo and Deku are already on house arrest for fighting each other in the middle of the night

*A little bit of quiet*

KEEP YOUR EYES ON ME DEKU YOU DWEEB

Oh they’re interning together

Oh Deku has no limbs and Bakugo is bleeding out and declaring to be the world’s most ridiculously named hero

Bakugo is reopening his wounds and trying to barge into Dekus private hospital room

The level of “not my relationship, not my problem” Iida has achieved is insane

He said it and he fucken meant it, he’s never ever opening that can of worms. Iida knows what he’s qualified for and couples counseling isn’t it 😂

[disasterofastory]

Three times when you fall asleep on Ivar (Ivar x Reader)

Three times when you fall asleep on Ivar Ivar x Reader Warnings: none

I.

Your life is busy and tiresome between training and your energetic brothers. The little pests can’t sit on their arses for one minute. If they are not on your heels, then they are somewhere else getting in trouble. You love them to death, but your days would be so much calmer without them.

You sit next to Ivar while his brothers train. They dance around each other, laughing and chatting about a slave girl.

“Who are they talking about?” You ask the youngest son of Ragnar.

“Margarethe,” he hisses with clenched jaw. His blue eyes are burning holes in his brothers.

“Why are you angry?” You ask him. “Are you interested in the slave too?”

“No, she is just a slave,” he shrugs.

“Then what is your problem?” You ask stubbornly.

You know the brothers since childhood. You spent most of your time with Ivar when his eyes were deep blue, and everybody was afraid to play with him because of his bones. He was never interested in the other sex. At least not until now.

“Why do you care?!” He snaps at you.

You stay silent. You are too tired for his moods.

Your eyelids start to get heavier and heavier till you can’t open them anymore and blackout. You lean on Ivar’s shoulders, your folded arms against your chest and your legs in a small spread. He hears your breathing, and your hair tickles his neck. He is annoyed. He doesn’t like your weight against his, and he doesn’t know what to do. Should he move? Or wake you up?

He moves.

He crawls out under your slumber form, and you fall to the ground where Ivar was a few seconds ago. He doesn’t even look back at you when you yell at him.

“You are a dick, Boneless.”

II.

The second time you dare to fall asleep on Ivar is during a sacrifice. The sun is long gone from the sky, the torches are on fire, and Aslaug speaks about the Gods and the next raid against the Christians. Your face is painted with black coal, and your hair is braided for battle, although you know you won’t fight tonight. You sit next to Ivar on a barrel. You enjoy his face while he looks at the sacrifice. He is in awe.

The voices start to fade away, and your body moves to Ivar again. For a few minutes, he doesn’t even notice, and when he does, he does nothing about it. He has a better plan. He waits for almost ten minutes for the bowl with the blood in it. He paints his face with it, then reaches above you and pours the whole liquid onto your hair. You gasp at the warm feeling which goes down on your face and neck.

“Ivar!” You shout at him, straightening out.

Of course, blood is an important part of your customs, but you don’t want to bathe in it if it’s not on the battlefield.

“What?” He asks innocently, but his sly smirk betrays him. “I think the red looks good on you.”

“Sometimes I don’t even know why I’m friends with you,” you murmur, offended. You stand up and don’t wait for his answer. You just want to go home, wash down the blood and go to sleep.

He looks after you, and his smile slowly fades away.

III.

After the first two times, you are careful around Ivar. In reality, you don’t even have time for him. You train and help with the chores around the house when you don’t look after your siblings.

One day you busy yourself in the garden when you look up and find Ivar behind the fence.

“What?” You ask him, surprised. You didn’t talk with him for a few days.

“Are you still angry with me?” He asks you impatiently. He doesn’t like it when you don’t seek him out, and he hates it when he has to apologize to you.

“No, Ivar,” you answer, and you are mean it. You are used to his mean behavior. “I’m just busy.”

“Busy enough not to come to the feast?” He asks. He sent Hvitserk to ask you about your plans tonight, and when his brother came home with the news, Ivar knew he has to come to get you himself.

“Yes,” you answer shortly. “I already told Hvitserk.”

“But you have to come!” He demands. “I’m your prince!”

“Ivar, just stop!” You tell him. “I won’t go, deal with it.”

“Tell me, why!”

“Because my parents want to look for a husband for me!" You burst out. “And I’m tired! And I want to sleep! And I can’t do that because I always have things to do, and if I can lay down, I can hear my parent working on to have more kids and my brothers noisy even when they are asleep!”

Ivar's eyes widen while he listens. He didn’t even know about your problems, but it’s not a surprise after all. Whenever you two are together, you are the one who listens to his complaints about his brothers, the slave girl, and his useless legs.

“Then you have to come!” He decides.

“What? Did you hear me?!” You ask him angrily.

“You need a night to relax, and I make sure after the feast you can sleep calmly.”

He will be damned if he let another man have you.

Before sundown, you dress up and braid your hair. You wear a burgundy dress with silver decors and a warm pelt on your shoulders. You still don’t want to go, but you know Ivar will be furious if you don’t show up.

When you arrive, the hall is already full. It seems everybody has a great time. Yeah, you wish you could go home and relax.

You see the brothers at the main table with Aslaug and an Earl from the neighborhood. Your eyes lock with Ivar’s, and he beckons you to come, sit next to him. You greet the others before you sit down next to the dark-haired Viking and look at him suspiciously when he starts to pile up foods on your plate.

“What?” He asks. “You worked all day, I’m sure you are starving.”

“Thanks,” you tell him cautiously. You know Ivar rarely shows his affection or care to others, so you have to be careful about him if you don’t want to anger him.

You start to eat, and he is right. You are starving. The food you thought is too much is gone before you know it.

“Ivar?” You ask him more warily when he puts his arm around your shoulder and pulls you closer to him.

He looks at you almost pleadingly. It’s hard for him to show his feelings and even harder for him to speak about them. His blue eyes search yours to find his answer.

“I can’t let you marry someone else,” he tells you quietly so the others can’t hear him.

“Since when?”

“Does it matter?” He asks you, and you shake your head no.

For a few minutes, you are still a little bit frozen. You never imagined a future with Ivar, but you couldn’t imagine a future with someone else.

When he notices you start to doze off, he pushes you softly to his room.

“Go, change your clothes. I ordered the thralls to bring you some clothes for the night.”

“Ivar, if it’s a prank…” you warn him.

“It’s not, I promise. It’s warm and comfortable.”

You smirk, and he immediately looks you over suspiciously while you lean closer to him to whisper into his ear.

“Your one of your tunics would be enough.”

When you lean back, you see his face is red, and his lips are slightly open.

You turn around and go to Ivar’s room to change and make yourself comfortable on his bed. The wood burns and crackles on the fireplace and the furs make you warm as you lay down waiting for the Viking.

You hear him crawling to the door and slowly opens it to let himself enter.

“Is it comfortable?” He asks you.

“Yes,” you answer.

He climbs up to the bed and changes his clothes as fast as he can. You saw his legs countless times, but he still tries to hide them. You don't like it, but you understand him, and this talk can wait.

He lays down next to you, but he is rigid.

“You can get comfortable… you know?” You tell him patiently. You would be lying if you would say you don’t enjoy his haunted figure.

“Of course, I know,” he snaps at you. “This is my bed.”

“Okay… Mighty Bed Owner,” you laugh at your joke.

He doesn’t answer, and you start to doze off again. You feel warm and comfortable and tired. So tired.

Ivar waits almost half an hour to make sure you are asleep before he moves closer to you. He doesn’t even have to do much, you unconsciously lean to him till you almost on top of him. He feels your breath on his chest where the tunic doesn’t cover his skin, and your arm weighs on his stomach.

How could he let any man feel this?

[honeyed-sunflowers]

it’s time to go || good-byes

i have always been terrified of goodbyes. in my head, they were the worst thing that could ever happen to me. i don't know what was worse — saying goodbyes or receiving them. naturally, i have been bad at handling those situations. at first, they were invisible. like childhood best friends who did not find me "cool" enough to hang out with me or my favourite teachers who disappeared into the crowds and never appeared after i left my pre-school. those goodbyes were not defined, so many words were left unsaid, so many emotions forever bottled in my heart that i still write about in poems. but then came the goodbyes that were said. maybe that should have been the point where i should have realised why. it was because i had grown to deny whenever a friendship started fading away. i was clinging and holding on to the person even though they've had enough of me and only wished to leave. even after they left, for good, all i did was weep and weep. in poems, in songs, in everything that i did, a part of me wept forever, waiting for them to come back and tell me they'd never leave me again. i think a part of me still does... but it's not like before. and i'm sure i'm not alone, that there are so many people who are still learning how to accept goodbyes and not let it kill them.

earlier, i used to try to find new ways to show people just how useful and lovely i can be. it was selfish, or perhaps, it was truly out of love, but in the end, i wanted them to stay. i did not want any more goodbyes. so, i went out of my way to love them, shower them with as much as i had to offer, showing them the most authentic and lovable version of me. i wanted to give them reasons to stay. but, did it stop certain people from leaving? of course not. no matter how hard you try, you cannot make someone love you. you can beg and cry all you want but if they want, they will surely leave you. they do not owe you anything. and they do not have to hold on to you forever, even if you are the best for them. it's just how life works. certain ships are meant to stay as long as the storm is raging and once the ocean is calm, they will sail off to other islands. certain butterflies love to visit you while you are full of flowers and sunlight, but they cannot stay when the rain comes pouring down. some will only find you in autumn leaves, others in chocolate ice-cream cones, and some in your neatly handwritten study notes. you can try to show them that they are wrong or that you deserve better, and maybe you are right, but they will leave when the time comes. however, there's one thing you can control — your reaction to their departure.

grieving is not a bad thing. in fact, i feel like it's so important to grieve freely and unapologetically. but once that's done, we have to truly let them go. they can leave physically but only we can remove them from our minds. only we, ourselves, can wipe the ghosts that we allowed to haunt our bones because that's just what we knew at that moment of vulnerability. but now, it's different. time makes you stronger and smarter. what feels like the death of you may not threaten you by the next decade. goodbyes felt like the end of my world but now, i know they are there. they are always waiting in the dark corners of life. but now, if a dear friend of mine says their time has come, i hope i will be able to see them off without breaking down and losing all my hopes for a good life. i hope i won't rely on their ghosts to bring me a sense of peace and can find other ways to regain the happiness i need in my life.

goodbyes, whether said or not, are still something i hope to see less often in life. but the fact that i am not constantly worried about "who is going to stay?" and "who will be the next person to leave?", i think i can survive them. i have survived them, even the worst ones, and i know it gets harder as life goes on, but it also gets easier to accept them. they will come and go but what stays with us are the lessons and memories and those are the things i want to remember. not the nights my hand feels a little too empty or the way they burn down my house as they leave. as long as i do not give people the ability to kill me when they leave, i will be all right. because i deserve to survive these storms. i deserve a life that is not defined by goodbyes. and only i can create that life. it's my choice. it has always been my choice. and i am finally accepting goodbyes for what they are — endings — heartbreaking but necessary endings; promises of a better sunrise. i hope i will remember this the next time i watch a relationship break and i'll know when it's time to go.

— dandelion [it's time to go]

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

[regencyslxt]

To Have and To Hold

1542 words.

Imagine marrying Anthony Bridgerton.

Your wedding day was never something you had imagined a great deal growing up. The fuss made over the simple exchanging of vows didn’t quite appeal to you as much as it did others. Your mother had not married for love, and those around you cared only for a man’s pocket which meant your entire life had been spent readying yourself for a wealthy man’s proposal when it was time for your debut. You had grown up alongside Daphne Bridgerton however, so despite the lack of romance shown in your home, you had been able to witness it through her family and through her relationship with Simon. You would never admit this to her but watching her fall in love with Simon made you wish you had someone to experience that with. You never would have imagined that the man you would be meeting at the end of the aisle would be her eldest brother…

You were currently standing staring at your reflection in the mirror, your gaze making its way over all the intricate details of your wedding gown. Your sleeves were adorned with beads, the bodice was layered with lace and your veil was tucked neatly into the updo you were sporting for the day. Your favourite part though, had to be the blue detailing that scattered down your veil, small clusters of pale blue flowers, made using the fabric from the gloves you had worn on your first outing with Anthony. You had found your something old and something blue within the one item. Everything else you were wearing was new of course, but the something borrowed? Well, it was currently decorating your neck. The delicate chain which held a small pearl was given to you by your father. It had been his mother’s and before she passed, she had made him promise to give it to the woman he loved most in the world. He may not love your mother, but you…he loved you till the end of the earth which made the fact he had to give you away in little over a minute’s time was crushing him.

“I always knew you would make a beautiful bride someday,” your father tells you.

You smile at him and hold his hands.

“Thank you Papa.”

As you embrace him in one last hug before you wed, your mother barges into the room.

“There you are sweetie, it’s time,” she makes her way towards you and starts fidgeting with your dress.

“My little girl marrying a lord! I always knew you would marry rich,” she pats your cheek.

“Mama that is not why I am marrying Anthony…”

“Oh, don’t be foolish, any other reason for this marriage is insignificant. Now, let us go. Your future husband awaits.”

You watch as she leaves, stunned by her ignorance.

“Pay no mind to her dear, you know what your mother is like. But she is right, it is time to go,” he rests your hand in the crook of his elbow and you make your way towards the chapel doors.

You take a deep breath, calming your nerves and as the soft melody from the piano starts so you do. You look towards the end of the aisle, your sight stuck on the man waiting there. His suit tailored to complement his broad shoulders, his hair sits perfect and the smile he is wearing is more stunning than any of the outfits in the room. Each step you take, you get closer to the one you love and the excitement builds within you. Your father kisses your cheek then moves to sit beside your mother.

You now stand in front of Anthony, your smile matching his own. Your hands find their place in his and the words from the officiant seem to fade into the background. All you can focus on is the way the light streaming through the window brightens his face, highlighting his features in a way that makes you weak in the knees.

“Have you both prepared vows?”

“Yes, we have,” Anthony clears his throat while reaching into his coat pocket. He pulls out a piece of paper and begins to read.

“Y/N Y/L/N. From childhood until this moment, you have always been a part of my life and although at the beginning you were only Daphne’s friend, I am utterly joyed that you will be leaving here today still as Daphne’s friend,” he chuckles airily.

“But also as my wife. Y/N I can assure you that there is not one single person walking this earth that could completely enamour me the way you do. The thought of being able to wake up beside you every day, the thought of making a home with you, starting a family with you makes me feel a way I do not believe I have ever felt before. I am excited, nervous, and so completely in love all at once. You, my love, have opened my eyes to what life truly means and because of that I will spend the rest of my days doing my best to show you the same.”

He sniffles slightly and angles his head away from the spectators. He wipes a stray tear from his face and with a shaky breath lifts his head back to look at you.

“How can I compete with that,” both families laugh as you joke.

“Anthony Bridgerton. As you and everyone here today knows, weddings have never been a priority for me. That was until I met you. From the very first moment I saw you I knew that my life would not be a life well-lived if I was not able to spend it with you. I have spent my life trying to figure out why people marry, when most of the people around you marry for gain it can be hard to break out of the same mentality. But then you watch your friend marry the love of her love and you wonder if maybe there is something else to it. Some people may call me foolish for this, but I truly cannot fathom spending another moment of my life not being your wife. I have loved you for the longest time Anthony and I promise to love you even more from now until forever,” you choke up as you watch his eyes glaze over with unshed tears. Daphne smiles at you from the pews and winks in your directions. You giggle at her antics.

“Very well. Do you Anthony Bridgerton take Y/N Y/L/N to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, to be devoted to from this moment on?”

“I do.”

“And do you Y/N Y/L/N take Anthony Bridgerton to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, to be devoted to from this moment on?”

“I do.”

You both exchange rings, hands trembling as you do.

“By the power vested in me I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Applause can be heard all around as Anthony dips you back, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss. He brings you back up with him and you make your way up the aisle hand in hand, as husband and wife.

…

The celebration afterwards was wonderful. Everyone in the ton had made their way to the Bridgerton home to congratulate you and as much as you loved having everyone here you could not help but count down the minutes until the last person had gone home.  

Daphne had arranged for her family to stay at Hastings House for a week or so as both you and Antony agreed that no matter how much you wanted to have a luxurious honeymoon away from home, there was too much to be done and you knew Anthony would be worried about it the second he stepped foot out of the door. Although having the entire house to yourselves was not the worst thing in the world.

You turned to face Anthony as the last party guest made their way out the front door. You closed the latch and turned the lock, only turning around when you hear the click. You both stare at each other, the only sound is that of your breathing. Anthony strolled towards you with his hands in his trouser pockets.

“We are finally alone…”

“That we are.”

“Do you have any idea of what happens on one’s wedding night?”

“I have an idea,” you whisper as Anthony tugs on the ribbon securing your dress.

“How about I show you?”

He encloses your hand in his and drags you towards your new bedroom. He kicks the door closed behind you both and he pulls you in for a kiss…

…

Your wedding day was memorable for many reasons; you got to marry and finally kiss the man you have spent years being in love with, you got to feel what it was like to commit yourself to a person for the rest of your life and you got to share the most important day of your life so far with the people you hold dearest.

Your wedding night on the other hand was memorable for a whole other reason.

[drarrymylove]

Do y'all remember when you were younger and making friends still felt like falling in love?

Like now, you're all "let's meet for brunch on a Sunday" even though you hate leaving the house on Sundays but it's the only day you both have off work and your have to pick out your outfit that says something between "I'm not poor and this outfit is definitely not 6 years old... unless you think it's cool, then it's absolutely 6 years old and I got it from a thrift store when it was already 5 years old and definitely didn't buy it from some fast fashion website or old navy and yes, the hole in my shirt only happened this morning when I was rescuing a puppy from a busy intersection and not the result of years of overuse" and "this is the nicest shirt I own, please don't judge me for being overdressed. It's not at all appropriate for the venue but I want you to think I'm effortlessly pretty like I think you are. Also, we can't hang out again after this for at least 3 paychecks so I can keep this up."

You're not in the same boat like you were before. We were all in school, the same level of inexperienced, similar expectations, similar ages and experiences and when you find someone you clicked with, you saw them all the time, have class together, lunch together, they were constant. And you had time to live for the moments you had together without worrying about making time to seek them out, to coordinate schedules or pick a venue. You just knew they'd be there.

And good god is it horrible to find new friends when you're an adult. Especially when you don't go to church or play sports or do the parent group stuff or whatever it is that makes parents be friends with each other.

Being older is so insanely lonely and I can't believe people don't talk about it. I haven't made a new friend in years. I'll hang out with someone for a few months and realize I'm playing a character the whole time trying to make sure they like me and it's so easy to drift out of people's lives with practically no resistance. No one chases you down and says "I have missed you". And the older you get, the fewer people you find with similar life experiences... even in the same work environment.

Like, you can have one ex-con who sells drugs or of his car, an early-thirties woman with a teenage child, a 25-year-old student working on a masters degree, a 17-year old who has never worked or lived outside her home town that has a population of >5k until 3 weeks ago, and a part-time sex worker all working at the same place. How do you make friends that really *get* you like your childhood or school-age friends?

And eventually you have to understand that you'll never make friends like you did when you were younger. Your old friends are still there. But one is on their second child 2,000 miles away and the other just bought a house in the hometown you fought so hard to leave and works 2nd shift so your free time doesn't even overlap for a phone call. They are still there but it's different. And it's terrifying because what if they don't miss you in the heartbreaking way you miss them?

And when you were the most important people in each other's lives... it really did feel like falling in love. Such a deep and profound platonic love that faded and changed to the point you know you'll grieve the loss/change of it for the rest of your life.

How are we ever supposed to recover from that?

[emblemxeno]

JP vs. Localization in Fire Emblem Fates: Revelation

(Okay, for real this time lol)

Again, here’s a link to my sources post.

Fortunately, this route follows suit in terms of good localization quality after Conquest. It’s the shortest out of all the posts, since I don’t really have a lot to talk about. Mostly subtle line changes, references and a few key points of information that were cut out. I also went through Hidden Truths and Heirs of Fate to see if I could add stuff from those on here, but there were no big problems that I found.

Once again, the main part of this post will all be put under the cut. If a chapter isn’t covered, it means I didn’t think there were any differences worth talking about.

I’ll use localized names for characters and locations, unless I feel the need to do otherwise.

I’ll be using she/her when referring to Corrin in this post. (I flipped a coin to decide the gender lol)

Also, note that after Chapter 14, the translation of this route on Fateswartable ends, so I mostly relied on the English patch done by Serenes at that point forward. (I also used PegasusKnight.com as a reference to fall back on if I needed it)

Chapter 7

-A minor gripe I have with localization. The JP version compares Touma (Valla) to hell constantly. To jump ahead a bit, I believe in the JP versions of the End of All Sky/Land/Below tracks are even called The End of All Roads Heaven/Earth/Hell. The Vallites are also often called demons in the JP version, and Anankos himself is known as the ‘Invisible Demon Dragon’.

Another cool thing I just thought of too, is a connection to a popular Japanese short story. Zelda fans might be familiar with the story, “The Spider’s Thread”, which inspired the Ancient Cistern dungeon in Skyward Sword.

The beginning of the story has Buddha walking through paradise (heaven), before coming across a pond. The pond is filled with crystal clear water, and covered with water lilies/lotuses. As Buddha gazes further into the pond, he begins to see the depths of hell.

Sound familiar? “Azura is walking through Hoshido, before coming across a lake. The lake is filled with crystal clear water, and when she gazes into the lake she sees the fallen kingdom of her birth. Valla, the kingdom associated with water lilies/lotuses in the game, has been turned into hell itself.”

This association loses its meaning a bit when the comparisons to hell are a bit toned down, as well as when the Buddhist inspirations were kind of supplanted in favor of Greek renames. It’s not supremely important to the plot as a whole, but it’s something interesting I wanted to bring up.

-In the JP version, while explaining what happened in Valla, Azura eventually says “Using the art of manipulating people’s souls, he (Hydra/Anankos) made the people kill each other.” This bit of the people killing each other was cut in localization.

Chapter 12

-In the JP version, when Corrin asks Flora if she knows anything about dragons, Flora says “Sorry, I don’t know…The ancestral dragon of the Ice Clan has already perished and isn’t part of the legend. I don’t know what role it plays, sorry…” Localization makes her response “I'm sorry, but I can't think of anything... They've been gone so long that we don't even have tales of dragons in the Ice Tribe. I'm sorry I couldn't be of more assistance...”

So, the JP version explicitly says the Ice Dragon is dead (I believe Fates’ second artbook mentioned this as well), whereas the localization only says the First Dragons have been gone for a long time.

Chapter 16

-There’s not really much of a problem that I have with what Ryoma says about Corrin “having leadership qualities at a young age” but I wanted to do comparisons regardless cuz the word choice might lead one to different conclusions. In localization, Ryoma says this:

Ryoma: Huh... So she told us the same thing... I don't think it's in Corrin's nature to lie. And there's a leadership quality about her that just attracts followers. I remember being jealous of her as a child, in fact. Even at such a young age, she displayed the characteristics of a ruler. Silly to be jealous of her, right?

In the JP version, Ryoma says this:

Ryoma: Oh... So, she told you the same thing. …Corrin isn’t one to tell lies. She’s been like that since childhood. She’s always genuine and honest... She has this mysterious appeal that draws people to her. Seeing my younger sister with the qualities of being a ruler... Honestly, it makes me feel envious. …What a ridiculous thing to say, right?

Again, I don’t necessarily have a problem with how it was localized, but some might. The localization version might have people think that Corrin somehow was a fantastic leader at such a young age, but JP is more clear that it was about the qualities she had at a young age that would be valuable as a leader.

Chapter 19

-A minor gripe. In the localization, Azura says that Anankos uses his magic to send Vallites to Nohr and Hoshido to stir up conflict. In the JP version, she says he uses magic, along with the help of a body of water. That’s why whenever you fight Vallites outside of Valla proper, there’s a body of water nearby; Hoshido’s lake (and the ponds shown in Hinoka’s CQ battle which are in the capital) for Chapter 5, the sea for BR chapter 11, the burning falls for BR chapter 21, and the city for Rev chapter 13. Similarly, the consequences of being a victim to the curse are described as “turning into sea foam” in the JP version. Localization as a whole kind of toned down how much water has an influence on the story.

Chapter 23

-Probably the pettiest gripe I have lol. As Arete is fading away from Azura’s arms, Azura has a different reaction in localization and Japanese. In localization, Azura says “Mother? Mother!” while a voice clip of her in-battle pain cries plays. In the JP, she says  “*Sob... Sob*…! Mother... Mother...!”, while a voice clip of her crying plays. Her crying voice clip I don’t recall hearing anywhere else.

This is one of the few times in the you get to see Azura express a heavy and heartfelt emotion, since her rough childhood caused her to remain guarded and stoic around everyone. The equivalents to this scene in other routes is her death scene in Birthright, and her crying with Corrin over Ryoma’s death in Conquest; a normally unflinching and aloof character breaking down is a rarity, and indicates that the cause of it is something to take note of for the character as a whole. Localization softened this aspect, and I take issue with it, despite it probably seeming trivial to most other people.

Chapter 24

-When Corrin is questioning the phantom Mikoto, an exchange happens. In localization, part of it goes like this:

Corrin: But this can't be... Are you truly my mother?

Mikoto: I am. Even as a puppet of Anankos, my spirit at least remains my own.

Corrin: I... I believe you.

In the JP version, it goes like this:

Corrin: It can’t be... …Are you really my mother?

Mikoto: Yes... I became an Invisible servant, controlled by the Invisible King... Even so, I am your mother.

Corrin:  …………

Again, a minor thing that I don’t personally have issue with, but replacing Corrin’s silence with an admittance of belief could make some believe she has “reverted” back to being too naïve.

Chapter 26

-While Gunter is relaying his past, an exchange happens. In localization, it goes like this:

Gunter: I ask myself that, every day. I cannot understand the minds of royals. To you all, we commoners are little more than pawns in your schemes... Or weeds to be killed on a whim.

Corrin: That's not true...

Xander: Is that how people view the royalty?

Ryoma: Such an impression would easily breed powerful resentment...

In the JP version, Corrin, Xander and Ryoma don’t say anything. They just remain silent.

Endgame

-Not a major problem so much as a general thing about the game, but I can think of like... at least three memes that Treehouse inserted into the localization. Now I like memes, but there is no better way to date your media nowadays. One of them was Kana’s “That’s dragon for I love you” which tbh, is kind of cute and isn’t the most well known meme so I guess I can let it slide. Another is Felicia saying “I had one job!” when she messes up in the dining hall, which isn’t that big of a deal since the dining hall is very optional.

The last one I can think of is why I put this specific grievance here, and it’s during Corrin’s speech before facing Anankos.

Corrin: We won't back down! This is my... This is our destiny! Ready your weapons! Fight for your friends! With the Seal of Flames... With the Fire Emblem on our side! We fight for our world!!

Yeah, she says “Fight for your friends” which is everyone’s favorite Ike line from Brawl. Now, this isn’t even a totally inaccurate translation either, but it kind of just... makes the moment funny for the player when it’s supposed to be commanding and serious I guess.

But yeah, not the most important issue by far, but something I’d thought to mention. Hell, it’s not even that bad compared to how they made Peri’s, Effie’s and Hisame’s quirks into exaggerated and tired jokes. And the Beruka-Saizo support. Never forget.

-When Azura and Corrin are by the lake and discuss the latter’s plans to rule, Corrin says this in localization:

Corrin: I'm going to make Valla a wonderful place! In honor of the true last king and for Queen Arete. And everyone who fought... I promise to make them all proud.

In the JP version, she says this:

Corrin: I’ll make the Invisible Kingdom (Valla) into a great land. For the previous monarch, Queen Shenmei (Arete)… And for all of my allies who fought beside me. I promise.

So, JP version only mentions Arete as the reigning monarch of Valla. Which makes sense, cuz unless there was some wild “keeping the bloodline pure” shenanigans in Valla, Arete being the Queen keeps in line with what we know about the rest of Valla’s history. Arete was royalty from birth, as was her sister Mikoto. Arete is the one who passed down Lost in Thoughts and the pendant to Azura.