#i think the manor on a sunny day probably looks beautiful

[bbbbbbbbatman]

Once Batman has revealed his identity to the JL, after some strong encouragement from Superman and Wonder Woman, Bruce decides to try to start being a bit more "personable" with the rest of league. They've been colleagues for a decade and he trusts them all, and according to Clark and Diana this means there's no need for his whole mysterious "shadow of the night" bit, so he invites the league to dinner at the manor.

It is raining heavily, and even though it's not that late, it's nearly pitch dark but for the frequent lightning strikes. The league arrives together at Wayne Manor and the wrought iron gates stretch upward before them, ending in spikes at the top with ivy overgrown across them. They stand there, uncomfortable, wet, a bit weirded out, wondering how they're supposed to get passed the gates.

"This is creepy, right?" Hal says. "It's not just me?"

A voice. "Hello." As the league turns to the sound, thunder claps loud enough to startle everyone as lightning strikes, illuminating a small child standing on the other side of the gates that was definitely not there a second ago. He stands motionless under an umbrella, seemingly unbothered by the rain, expression vaguely irritated, and his eyes seem to flash green in the light. "I have been instructed to escort you inside."

The child doesn't move in any way but the gates slowly swing open, the creaking sounds sound straight out of a horror movie. Once they are fully opened, the boy turns and starts walking down the path without a word.

The league, some members quite freaked out at this point, follow him after exchanging some looks. They round a bend in the path and the manor comes into view. It is a massive dark structure, rising from the ground. Another lightning strike illuminates pointed spires, jagged edges, and it's gloomy, gothic nature. The sound of bats shrieking can be heard in the distance over the rain.

The league finally arrives at the front door, cold, wet, and thoroughly discomfited. An old man, a butler, looking out of time, opens the door, the child disappears inside. The butler welcomes everyone inside graciously but with a distant politeness. Despite the appearance of the exterior, the inside is well lit with warm light and seems inviting, though ostentatious. The league is relieved.

Until another massive lightning strike and thunder clap cuts the power off and the room is pitch black.

"Oh, you're here," a deep voice says from somewhere up above. No sooner are the words out than another lightning strike illuminates a dark, hulking figure on the staircase that was also definitely not there a second ago. At least two people scream.

Bruce is wildly confused as to why his guests are screaming, he didn't think any of them were afraid of the dark? The back up generator kicks on and the lights come back on and everybody seems to calm down. The rest of the dinner seems to go well (as well as a dinner can with the justice league and all of Bruce's kids) but strangely, to Bruce's confusion, it somehow only made his "spooky" reputation worse. He's not really sure why the whole league seems to think he lives in a haunted house.

[petitelepus]

Rekindling The Flame, Part 2

Your life is good in the Rengoku household and you've gotten a friend from Lord Rengoku's youngest son Senjuro, but with time you find feelings for Lord Shinjuro also and he seems to have changed a little also. Kyojuro comes home and you meet for the first time and he can see that there are feelings between you and his father and he approves.

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3

WARNINGS: Cursing, Fem!Reader

Months passed and you were quickly getting the hang of how things were done in the Rengoku household. Despite lacking skills to dance or play Shamisen, you were natural when it came to things like cooking and housework.

It also helped a ton that Senjuro, your new best friend taught you everything he knew. Even if you were years older than him, the two of you got along so well.

Despite the scary start you had gotten, you were thankful that it was you who came back with Lord Rengoku from the entertainment district. Your life was much better in the Rengoku household, even better than the time you were supposed to marry a man you didn't love.

Not only were you learning how to keep the house clean and its Lords fed, but you also learned about these monsters or Demons that hunt innocent people during the night to eat them.

You had trouble believing it when Senjuro told you about them, thinking he was telling you a horror story, but his father had heard you two speaking and he had snapped at the two of you, telling you to mind your own business…

Lord Rengoku, or Shinjuro was a complicated man. He had a short temper, and he drank so much that it couldn't be good for him… But he was also a gentleman in his own way. He never hit you or tried to make his moves on you, things you appreciated way more than he could know.

It was a beautiful sunny day and you were in the backyard, ready to do some wood chopping. You had gotten a delivery of nice logs, but the guy responsible for chopping them into nice pieces bailed so it left you and Senjuro with a bunch of wood that didn't fit into the oven or such so it had to be chopped into smaller pieces.

Seeing that Senjuro was much younger than you and that Shinjuro was probably sleeping or drinking, you took it up as your job to chop the wood.

"Big sis, are you sure about this?" Senjuro asked with your nickname as he watched you pull your Yukata's sleeves up. He was worried, "Have you done this ever before?"

"Nope, but how hard can it actually be?" You shrugged as you weighed the axe in your hands. It felt sturdy. You grabbed one wooden log and placed it on the chopping block, before raising the axe into the air and letting it swing down-!

"Wow!" You gasped as the axe sank into the log and you and Senjuro looked a each other in a mixture of shock and excitement, "I actually did it!"

"You did!"

You felt so proud, almost as strong as a man, but you hadn't yet actually chopped the log into two smaller pieces. Nope, your axe was stuck in the middle of it.

"Still needs some work…" You frowned a little as you raised the axe into the air and brought it down, this time actually chopping the wood in two. You laughed victoriously and did a little happy dance while Senjuro laughed at you and your silly behavior.

So you were slowly getting a hang of how to actually chop wood, but you were nowhere near good at it. No, the axe would get caught every so often, and it was getting hot, working out like you were doing in harsh sunlight, not a cloud in the sky.

Senjuro was the sweetest, bringing you water so you wouldn't faint because of dehydration or heatstroke. As you two worked, you didn't notice a pair of sharp golden and red eyes following your every move from the comfort of a cool manor.

You and the young man were working hard, but you were slow. Hardworkers, yes. Quick? Not so much.

"This is taking forever…" You grumbled as you wiped your sweaty forehead with the back of your hand and Senjuro frowned, "Should we take a small pause?"

"Right after this log…" You grumbled but as you swung your axe you missed and by God, you were lucky to sidestep because you totally missed the log and almost took out your own leg while you were at it.

You and Senjuro's eyes were wide open and you both didn't realize that you were holding your breaths.

"That was close."

"Too close."

"The fuck you are doing there!?" Came Shinjuro's voice as the shoji door was slammed aside and the Lord of the mansion stormed to you and Senjuro. You flinched at the sight of him rushing at you and suddenly yanking the axe from your hands.

"Father, we-!" Senjuro was saying when his father grunted and shot a glare at the two of you, "Leave this to me! Go do something useful!"

"Yes!" You and Senjuro both rushed away, leaving Shinjuro alone with the wood chopping. You looked at your friend and frowned, "I hope we didn't bother him…"

"We shall see…" The young man nodded as he looked at you, "Would you like to cut some watermelon if I go sweep the front yard?"

"No, you can cut the melon and I'll go sweep the yard quickly. I'm bad with knives anyway." You said, remembering how you cut your thumb pretty deep when you were a child. That didn't stop you from cooking nearly every day these daya, but you used that as an excuse to let Senjuro get some rest from the sun.

The young man nodded as he headed to the kitchen and you headed outside in the front yard. You grabbed the broom on your way there and went to swipe the dirt and such.

So you were sweeping the front yard, humming a Shamisen melody under your breath when suddenly-!

"Greetings!"

"YIP!" You nearly jumped out of your skin as a loud voice came from behind you and you whipped around to see your Lord standing there- Wait… Lord Rengoku was chopping wood in the backyard… But this man looked exactly like him and Senjuro.

That was when you remembered that Senjuro had told you about his amazing big brother; who was one of the strongest Demon Slayers there was, a Hashira but due to his work, he was rarely home. This must have been the famous Kyojuro!

"Ah, are you perhaps Lord Kyojuro?"

"Yes, but I'm no Lord!" Kyojuro smiled widely and happily as he looked at you and you felt embarrassed, being caught sweaty and tired… But it didn't seem to bother the young man, "You must be the new housekeeper I've heard so much of!"

"Ah, that would be me." You nodded and his smile just grew if that was even possible, "I'm happy that you haven't left yet! My father has a bad habit of chasing any help away."

"It's not like I have a word in it?" You chuckled a little and he tilted his head in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"Your father, Lord Rengoku bought me. I belong to him." You replied and Kyojuro's smile dropped as he pondered your words. You fidgeted nervously on your place until he nodded, "Are you happy here?"

"I…" You swallowed a little. You weren't necessarily sad or such… But you were better here than out there in the big cold world. It was always nice and warm in the Rengoku household, despite your Lord's temper and alcoholism.

"Because if you aren't then I will buy your freedom." He nodded, "I'll give you some money and you can go wherever you want to. Start a new life, a life you want for yourself."

"That…" Was a very generous offer. Maybe best one you have ever heard.

"That is awfully generous of you… But I can't accept it."

"You don't have to fear my father. I will handle him and-!"

"B- but I don't want to leave!" You cried out a little louder than you intended, "I… I like it here. This may sound crazy… But I like my life as it is now?"

"You… Like it here?" Kyojuro sounded surprised and you nodded, "I like your brother and I… I like your father…"

"I see…" The young man nodded thoughtfully before smiling, "Then I'll be in your care until I'm called on another mission! Could you perhaps take me to see my father?"

"Yes, of course!" You nodded as you put the broom aside and led Kyojuro to the backyard where his father and your Lord was… And he had nearly chopped all the logs that were left in such a short time!

You almost yelped as you saw him with the top of his yukata wrapped around his waist, showing off his sweat-glistening body, and despite being drunk almost constantly, he still had some fine muscles left from his years as a Demon Slayer. He looked absolutely gorgeous and-!

"Father!"

You flinched, Kyojuro's shouting startling you, and Shinjuro turned to look at his son who had just arrived.

"Kyojuro…" The older man grumbled and then your eyes met and you panicked, "I- I'll fetch you some water, my Lord!" You stuttered as you rushed back inside, leaving Kyojuro and his father alone.

"I'm surprised! It isn't like you to work like this!" Kyojuro said as he looked at his father.

"Tch!" Shinjuro spat on the side, "You should have seen how that foolish woman was swinging axe. Nearly took her own leg!"

"That's very thoughtful of you!" The oldest son nodded, "I can tell things are different here since the last time I visited!"

"What makes you think that?" Shinjuro asked and Kyojuro smiled, "Well, you don't smell like sake for starters! Have you had a drink today yet?"

"How could I with your brother and the help chopping firewood outside my room?" Shinjuro grumbled as he raised and swung the axe, easily snapping the log before him in half.

Kyojuro nodded as he watched his father work, but he heard voices coming and turned to see you rushing down the hall with a glass of water in your hands.

"H- here is water for you, my Lord!" You bowed as you humbly offered the water to Shinjuro who grumbled as he took the water and drank it slowly.

Kyojuro noticed that you were admiring his father and when he was done with the water, he handed the glass back to you, "Bring me another one."

"Yes, my Lord," You nodded as you turned and left and Kyojuro noticed how his father's gaze stuck to you. It took a second, but his smile brightened when he realized something. You liked his father… And he liked you! It looked like neither one of you were aware of the other one's feelings!

"Why are you smiling like an idiot?" Shinjuro grumbled but Kyojuro's smile went nowhere, "Oh, I just remembered I have something to discuss with Senjuro! I'll be back soon father!"

"Tell that woman to start preparing dinner. All this working is making me hungry."

"As you say, father!" Kyojuro nodded as he headed inside, just barely passing you as you brought another glass of water for his father. He watched from the sideline how his father ordered you to get the dinner started and how you bowed, telling him that you would do just that.

The current Flame Hashira smiled as you returned and both of you headed towards the kitchen, "You like my father, don't you?" He asked suddenly and you yelped in shock, nearly dropping the glass between your hands.

"I- I-!" You swallowed nervously, "I do, he did save me from becoming an Oiran…"

"No, I mean you like like him!" Kyojuro said and you stopped to look at him, "Wha- wha-?"

"And I can tell he likes you too!"

"I- It can't be!" You shook your head, trying to deny everything, "Lord Rengoku is just…! You guys have a mother- His wife-!"

"Our mother has been gone for years, but she will always be in our hearts," Kyojuro replied and you frowned, feeling absolutely the worst for liking a widower who still grieved in his own way, "That's just even more reasons why I shouldn't approach your father with a relationship in my mind…!"

"Our mother would want our father to be happy again, and I believe that she would approve of you and him," Kyojuro said, but you still couldn't bring yourself to believe him and he could tell. He smiled fondly and petted your head, "I can tell things are better here now that you are here. Have a little faith in yourself."

"I…" You swallowed, "I think I need to ask from your mother?"

"Of course. Go ahead and me and Senjuro will get dinner started."

"But it's my job to-!"

"I insist." Kyojuro nodded, not leaving you any room to argue with him, "Go talk with our mother." And with that, he went to the kitchen and left you standing there. You swallowed nervously as you turned and walked into Ruka's room… And to her butsudan altar.

You kneeled before the altar and bowed in respect. As you raised your head, you looked at the picture of the Ruka, Shinjuro's wife, and Kyojuro's and Senjuro's mother. She was a gorgeous woman and no doubt a brilliant person, and you felt so inferior to her.

"Greeting Lady Rengoku… It's me… The new help in your house… Again…" You spoke gently, "I'm sorry to come to you like this… But I have to confess something…"

You took a deep breath, "I really like Lord Rengoku… Like, I would like to try and court him… But I don't want to do anything without your blessing…"

There was a soft breeze coming through the open door and you turned to look, not noticing if the door was already open or not. You blinked and looked at Ruka's picture, "W- was that you? Can you give me a sign if it's alright for me to… You know? See if Lord Rengoku could like me the way I like him?"

The breeze came again, but this time a beautiful black and white butterfly flew into the room. You watched in awe as the little thing flew around you before it landed on Ruka's picture, resting there and fluttering its wings… Before taking off into the garden again.

You smiled a little, feeling like a great weight had been lifted from your shoulders. You turned and bowed one more time to Ruka's picture, "Thank you, my Lady. I will try my best to make Lord Rengoku happy."

[fourseasonsfigs]

New Year Joint Special Project - Never Fail the Four Seasons

You can read about the other sets in this 6-set series here and here, but just to recap, this is one in a collaborative series of six designed among five fig makers for the Lunar New Year 2022.

This fig collaboration launched on February 22, 2022, and if you ordered during the early bird pre-order period (which I did), you would get a piece of a magnet which formed part of a larger piece of art. If you got all 6 magnets, you could complete the whole art piece.

The collaboration was 4 Wenzhou sets and 2 Junzhe. The 4 Wenzhou ones are below, and this set is of course the one in the bottom left, the walk to Siji Manor.

The name of this fig set comes from Word of Honor's main theme song, Tianyake, sung by Zhang Zhehan and Gong Jun. The lyric is quoted in the fig poster above:

相见恨晚幸未晚 不再辜负四季花 Even if I met you too late, it’s not too late. Let’s not fail the Four Seasons’ flowers again.*

Here's the original picture in all its glory. This is of course the walk to Siji Manor in episode 24.

My husband, glancing at my screen, "Oh, they're on a picnic?"

Look at these two. A-Xu's face is so happy here, I love it.

Ah they're adorable. A-Xu of course isn't holding his drink gourd in the original picture, but why quibble details? He's probably just storing it in his robes, along with all his disguise gear, his changes of clothes, his various medicines, his moneybag (did he ever get it back from Lao Wen?) and some wrapped up bread for the road.

The fig maker even designed little feet for them:

I love little totally unnecessary details like this. We also have Lao Wen's hand behind his back here in his classic walking around pose. These figs stand securely thanks to their wide stable base.

Frankly it's good these two have solid stances, because they are sure sporting some luxurious flowing hair on their big ol' heads. You'd think such cranially-gifted disciples of Siji Manor would have a little more common sense stuffed somewhere in those gigantic melons, but, well, you've seen the subsequent episodes.

Here's a comparison of the Tofu official fig from the same scene with this one:

The official one is very authentic to the picture! I have to say, though, Big Headed A-Xu's enormous sparkly eyes and look of pure delight at being back in his old stomping grounds wins big with this fan.

The boxes are beautiful too.

Alright, it's magnet time! Here's the adorable magnet that came with this set:

Wait, they ARE having a picnic!

Cute little touches in the artwork here. The Tianchuang lantern, the juzipi in the tree, and the two rabbits who don't need to be exchanged for a piece of the glazed armor.

For the full set of magnets based on the posts to date, please be aware we're now moving into the portion of this program where we include a perhaps very mildly NSFW (spice ratio of like, well, something not very spicy at all, let's say a fast food jalapeno) piece of cute chibi artwork, so stop at the **** if today is not the day, and keep on going past it if it is!

Material: PVC

Fig Count: 47

Diorama Count: 4

Snowglobe Count: 1

Rating: A life of snow and frost melts away as I brew wine and make tea with you*

*Tian Ya Ke translation is from 青Cee, located here: https://youtu.be/UIgnDX5wcno Check it out, it's beautiful!

Ok!

Go no further if you don't want to see two zhiji entertaining themselves on a sunny summery afternoon.

[link back to Master Fig Index for more posts]

*************************************************************

We're halfway through this piece of artwork! So cute!

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Dark Shenanigans - Nandor x (f)reader

Summary: It’s Nadja’s something hundredth birthday, with that said, you’re on a mission to make it great.

Warning: fluff, general vampire nonsense

Masterlist

“Yeah being a half vampire half human does have its perks. I mean for one I can do all that cool vampire shit and I can go out in the sunlight...so that helps for when they’re all being really annoying.” You admit with a casual shrug to one of the documentary cameras before turning to an isle of party supplies. “So anyways we’re at this store.”

The camera shifts to the multiple arras of supplies and materials at the local supermarket in Staten Island that you and your vampire lover’s human familiar, Guillermo, currently are. Specifically on the hunt for birthday decorations for Nadja and ghost Nadja who’s possessed a strange looking doll for the time being.

Since the other four actual full vampires can’t shop for themselves at this time of day or really in general, you and Guillermo have been given such an honorable task in making Nadja’s birthday the best one yet. Considering she’s the most well balanced in the head out of the four of them and is the only other lady of the manor.

“Hey Y/N, how’s this look?” Wonders Guillermo as he holds up a bunch of Mardi Gras beads of yellows, purples, and greens. “Comments, questions, concerns?” He adds with a small smile.

Eyeing up the beads, your head shifts over to the other various colors, “Hrmm, G I’m feeling the vibe you’re going for this year and I like it, but let’s go with Nadja colors.”

Guillermo’s dark eyes light up at your positive suggestion, “Right! So the red and black ones then?”

“Yup. She’ll love that shit.” You state with a satisfied nod of approval, “Let’s get some black and gold confetti from over there and oh, those masquerade masks look cool as fuck.”

You pick up and test out various masks in the background as Guillermo adds some bits of dialogue for the documentary crew, “Um yeah she’s really cool isn’t she.” He says with a smile while glancing at you then back to the camera, “Which is kind of odd since Y/N’s been with Nandor since 1793 so you’d think she’d be a little more like them but no, she’s super chill and really nice.” Suddenly his face goes a bit serious as he leans in to whisper, “But she did kill a whole street gang once when they threw a slur at me so I wouldn’t mess with her. For your safety.”

The camera pans back over to an oblivious you who’s put on a masquerade mask and is swinging a plastic light saber around with a whole lot more accuracy and grace then would a normal person. The camera then pans back to Gullimero, “Um, I’m just gonna....make sure she doesn’t smack anyone.”

——

Arms full of groceries of food for you and Gullimero, as well as random party decorations for Nadja’s birthday tomorrow night, you use the bottom of your boot to skillfully open the door as the documentary crew and Guillermo follows suit. Guillermo now on the verge of falling over with the large heart shaped pillow in his arms that’s covering most of his body.

You don’t feel tired in the slightest due to your half vampiric abilities so this is nothing to you, “Alright.” You state, turning on your heel to face the crew and Guillermo, “They’re asleep so we gotta be extra sneaky now, I don’t want Nadja catching us with all this cool spooky birthday shit. Everyone to the attic!” You whisper yell before leading the charge to the attic.

They all follow as quietly and as quickly as they can and then soon enough in no time are you and Guillermo back outside in the sunny garden trying to figure out if you should blow up the giant sea monster pool floaty.

“I mean it would look cool as hell and no doubt out-do whatever the fuck boring thing Lazlo probably has planned.” You quip with a shrug while the two of you stare thoughtfully at the small gloomy dark pond. “He’s got no chance with us. I’ve won best decorator and card maker for two hundred years in a row.”

Guillermo side eyes you in honest amazement, “Wow that’s a lot of years. And cards.”

“I know. I was an artist in the 12th century but my no good terrible good for nothing piece of garbage trash sexist human husband, who I was forced to marry when I was only sixteen, took all the credit for my artwork in that era.” You confirm with a growl, “But it stings less because once I finally grew into my powers and strength at eighteen I simply made his untimely demise look like an accident.” You add with a smirk.

“Oh, wow.” Mutters the intrigued familiar.

“Precisely. The old fool was thrown off his horse because I told Philip, the horse, to throw him off. And he did. Which killed the idiot so I got the house and all of his money.”

“That’s......neat.” Mutters Guillermo as he shoots the camera crew from behind you and him a nervous look. “Uh the suns going down so I should probably help Nandor out of his coffin.”

Raising your head to the sky you immediately see how the sun has begun to paint the clouds in beautiful colors of oranges, reds, light pinks, and darkening purples. “Oh, how bout that. Yeah alright let’s get inside.” You nod to Guillermo before turning to walk towards the manor’s giant mahogany doors.

——

Turning the handle and walking a couple feet into the large main room that holds itself as a sort of crossroads for all the other various connecting hallways and staircases. You don’t make it even three more steps towards the left ascending staircase before you hear the highly recognizable voice of your one and only.

“Y/N! My lovely wife and favorite person still ever so lovely!” Announces Nandor loudly with a grand smile showing off his pearly white fangs, “How I have missed you and your morning kisses. Where have you been off to?” He wonders softly as you smile a big dumb love-struck grin right back up at him, you’d absolutely die to hear that accent one last time.

“I can’t tell you right now it’s a secret!” You whisper yell back, causing his thick dark brows to scrunch up in confusion.

“But I am your lovely strong puff dragon Y/N.” Whines Nandor adorably as you roll your eyes at the cameras before looking back up at him.

“Fine. Come here then.”

In an instant he’s at your side, excitedly awaiting what secretive news you will tell him, “Okay, so we know it’s Nadja’s birthday tomorrow right?”

“Yes. I remember because she hasn’t shut up about it.”

“Right. So me and Gullimero got some fun surprise birthday party decorations and they’re in the attic and we can’t tell Nadja.”

Nandor gives you a knowing look of affirmation as he leans in closer to you, his demeanor suddenly shifting into a more saddened one, “You went shopping without me?” He says quietly.

Leaning up to give him a quick peck on the cheek your hands instantly find his, “Just for a little while, but I still need to find more stuff so....you wanna come?”

Nandor’s big dark eyes light up with joy as you hand him a kind smile, “Yes! Let us go in search of unknown treasures for our lady friend Nadja so she will not be mad at us for terrible dull gifts of friendship.”

Laughing you give his hands a playful squeeze, “Come on I’ll race you to Party City!” You say before leading him past the camera crew and Guillermo who simply watches the two of you leave, glad to have an hour of peace.

“There’s a whole city for partying? Y/N why have we never been to this place?”

——

“Y/N there are no people partying here.” Whines your vampire lover in puzzlement as he follows you from the entrance to a side isle. “You said this was a city for partying.”

“That’s just the name of the store Nans.” You retort with a small chuckle as he looks from right to left at all the color coded party plates and napkins galore.

“Well the title is very misleading.”

“Agreed.”

Turning to the right you guide him towards the decretory pirate themed isle in search of something that will peak his interest. Also you wanted so badly to make it to this spot but Gullimero was a man on a mission so your intention was thwarted for when you had Nandor with you.

Speed walking down the pirate themed isle you quickly halt all movement as Nandor’s large body stops within less than an inch from your back. Smiling brightly you snatch the desired object in front of you and as swift as a cat turn to face him.

“Have you come for a dual my old enemy?” You speak slyly, eyes narrowed as you hold the foam sword right in front of his face. “I sense a nervousness about you. Tell me, are you ready to face your inevitable bloody end?”

Staring at the pointy foam, his dark puppy eyes shift over to you as an adorable fangy grin breaks out across his pale face, “Seems you have come prepared, oh radiant and alluring seductress. Well, so have I!” Shouts Nandor before grabbing two foam swords from off the rack and swinging them in both hands like a mad man.

Taking a cautious step back you hold your pathetic five dollar sword in both hands like a true warrior ready for battle, “Only one shall leave this place alive.” You affirm with a smirk, “And it’s not going to be you.”

“Arrrrrggg.” Bellows your lover as he charges you like the true conqueror that he once was. But all to soon do you swiftly duck under his arms and swat him over his stomach with a confident thwack sound.

He makes a puny little “oww” as you turn around to face him once again, “Y/N you hit me kind of hard.” He complains, looking rather defeated and genuinely hurt that you could have intentionally injured him on purpose.

Bringing the plastic weapon down to your side once again, your face suddenly softens as you walk over to him, “Come here you big baby.” You quip sincerely as he leans down so you can give his cheek a quick kiss.

Rising back to his full height, Nandor almost blushes as the corners of his eyes crinkle into a happy smile, “Actually it didn’t hurt at all I just wanted you to kiss me.” Reveals the vampire with a proud grin as you simply roll your eyes.

“Should have known.” You add before turning and snatching up four more plastic foam pirate swords for the others. “Alright let’s get outta here, follow me my love, to the checkout line we shall purchase our weapons of war and partying on the high seas.” You announce with gusto as Nandor stands proudly at your side, ready to follow you anywhere.

“Yes. To check out.”

——

Kicking open the unlocked door, Nandor bursts into the vampire residence with bags full of goodies for Nadja’s birthday party. You right behind him but less dramatically, “We’re back!” You shout to no one in particular as Colin Robinson suddenly appears from out of nowhere, looking ready to leave with his funny little hat and usual beige jacket.

“Oh hey guys,” He starts with a friendly nod, “I’m just heading out on the town tonight. I guess there’s a fair or something in the park and I wanted to test my skill at the ball toss. I’ve been reading up on the body mechanics and how the game is set up which seems pretty basic all in all. Also I really want to win a stuffed bear this time, it might add a little pizazz to my room. Welp see ya’round.” Adds Colin before walking past the two of you without another word and out into the night he goes with some of the camera crew following close behind.

Nandor turns to you with a look of annoyance, “Jeesh I thought he would never leave. Let’s go to your room I want to kiss you some more now.”

“Why my room?”

“Because since you are half vampire you get to sleep in a bed and because I am a full vampire I sleep in a coffin.” Inquires Nandor while looking at you with those big beautiful dark eyes of his, “And my coffin is too small for cuddles so your room will suffice.”

“Yeah that’s a fair point.” You shrug before following him to your room.

After many cuddles leading to other more rated R type activities that lasted until just about sunrise, you finally got some well needed rest while the sun shone high in the sky until she began her dramatic descend back into oblivion. Opening your eyes you slowly rise from out of your comfy bed, already missing the presence of your obsidian eyed lover.

He gets too nervous about your closed windows for fear that the sun might burn him which would be impossible because you black out the glass. But alas, he’s very cautious about these types of things and won’t risk it for anything, though he feels bad about leaving you in the morning, you understand.

Suddenly it dawns on you that today or perhaps tonight, is Nadja’s birthday and you completely forgot to set up any decorations. Shit, how stupid. Throwing the blankets off of you, your feet move quick as you speedily change yesterday’s outfit for something a bit nicer and more clean.

Racing out of your room and into the dimly lit manor hallway, you make a bee line for the attic but before you’re able to reach the steps, Guillermo runs into you, just about knocking you into a wall of various stolen ancient weapons. Sharp ones at that.

That was close.

“Y/N are you okay!” Worries the familiar as you quickly gather your bearings.

“Guillermo! The decorations! Nadja’s birthday!” You whisper yell as the human man simply smiles. “Why are you smiling, this situation does not call for smiles.”

“Don’t worry. While you were sleeping I set up all the decorations.” He replies with a shrug, “No problem.”

“What? But that must have taken you all day, you could have asked me for help. I would have come.” Your brows furrow as he shakes his head, though you still feel bad for not helping with anything.

“Well I did try, but um,” Gullimero awkwardly clears his throat, giving the camera a quick glance, “Nandor was with you and last time I asked for you while you and him where having alone time he threatened to carve out my eyeballs and force feed them to me.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose in annoyance you take a deep breath, “Sounds like him. Very creative when he wants to be, alright, well....where’s everyone?”

“Oh, they’re not up yet. I was actually on my way to get you. I made blood popsicles and the pool floaty is all done and in the pond.” He says with a sense of pride for his decorating skills. “I think she’ll like what we’ve come up with this year.”

-

Standing in the living room with your three fellow immortals you search a dresser for her card, “Oh shit where’s my card? I could have sworn I had it yesterday on my dresser but I don’t remember seeing it there in the morning. Maybe it’s in this one?”

“Witches!” Hisses Nadja as you huff in frustration, where the hell did you put that damn card?

“Oh, Y/N my love,” Intervenes Nandor with a gentle tug of your sleeve, “I took it with me when I left your room before sunrise because I wanted to put my name on it too so she would know it’s from us.”

“What?” Replies Lazlo dramatically, “Now hold on just a damn minute, this card competition is individually scored so I won’t be having any of this nonsense. I worked really hard on mine this year.”

“Oh lick a donkey’s arse, look here,” You retort with, quickly holding up the card for Nadja, “there are two separate drawings on ours so either way if one of us wins she gets both our pictures. So you better hope your drawing doesn’t resemble a night clubs bathroom wall.”

“Yeah.” Mutters Nandor, who’s hiding behind you while resting both hands on either one of your shoulders as you glare at Lazlo.

“Fine.” Agrees Lazlo begrudgingly, “And mine will be amazing, this bitch of paper took me a whole six months to plan and produce. Can’t get quality this good anywhere else I guarantee it.” Adds Lazlo with a firm nod of self approval as you glance at the nearby camera.

“Right, okay everyone sit it’s time for presents. I want to know what you all got me.” Beams Nadja excitedly as she smiles a fangy grin in delight, plopping herself down in one of the arm chairs. Lazlo quickly finding the other one while you and Nandor seat yourself on the large couch. Colin and Guillermo finding somewhere to sit close by respectfully.

“Well, all I can say is hold onto your socks my dear cause this is going to blow you away.” Smirks Lazlo as he pulls a small box from out of his jacket pocket.

“If it’s a self made business card that says invitation to sexy town I will puke.” You deadpan while Nandor laughs from beside you, causing Lazlo to lose his smirk as Nadja hides her amusement the best she can manage.

“He he, sexy town, nice one Y/N.” Mutters Nandor with a proud grin as you raise a brow at Lazlo who’s giving you a hard glare.

“Oh, my dear pumpkin pie love, don’t listen to Y/N I will love anything you gift me.” Encourages Nadja with a bright welcoming smile, no doubt immediately boosting Lazlo’s once irked mood.

Rolling your eyes you shift a bit to find yourself leaning into Nandor’s body as Nadja opens up the rest of the vampire residents various gifts. A joyous fangy smile gracing her pale features every single time, revealing this birthday party was a thrilling success.

After much more fun that just about lasts throughout the whole night, and some rare but hilarious attempts at dancing between the five of you vampiric individuals. You’re feeling rather sleepy and you can tell Nandor is ready for a trip to dreamland as well.

Swaying to the lowly playing record instrumental, you hold Nandor tight while simultaneously enjoying the feeling of him so close, him doing just the same as he keeps you firmly pressed against his chest. His long dark hair tickles your face as he presses his head to your cheek, doing his absolute best to keep the flow without tripping up.

Sensing his growing fatigue, you gently squeeze his hand, “My love the sun will be up soon, let’s get you to bed, yes?”

A small lazy smile tugs at the corners of his lips while he looks down to meet your gaze, “But my dark angel I’m not tired. I want to dance with you a little longer.” He whines adorably before failing to conceal a big yawn.

Giggling, you lean back to slowly lead him towards the door, “That yawn says otherwise.”

“That wasn’t a yawn Y/N, I was just smiling really big.” He protests, though he still follows your lead to the door.

“I’ve never seen anyone smile like that.” You add with a raised brow.

“Well maybe that’s just how I smile.”

Letting out a breathy snort, you pull away from him to at last take his one hand, “Come. I can’t have a single ray of that dreaded sun to get a taste of your precious skin. Not on my watch.”

Glancing at the closed front door, Nandor squeezes your hand, “Well um, now since you’ve mentioned the sun...I think I’d like to go to my crypt now.” He says, the flash of worry crossing over his face for only a brief moment.

“You sure? I mean a sunrise is pretty beautiful if I’m being honest and I know you never get to see them...”

“Not funny Y/N. And not fair, you know I can’t because I am full vampire.”

“And you’re missing out.”

“And I’d like to stay alive Y/N.”

“Aren’t you dead?”

“Yes and I am your only husband so I need to stay not burnt to a crisp.”

Chuckling, you follow him down the hallway, “Oh really? Don’t want me finding myself with another vampiric lover? Some new beast to sweep me off my feet and take me away into the night.” You tease.

Side eyeing you, he frowns, “No. Don’t I sweep you off your feet?”

Stepping into his crypt you stop him with your hand against his bicep, “Always.” You whisper sincerely with a quick wink, causing him to break out into a big fangy grin.

“Good. And if anyone would try and whoo you I would make sure there would be no more whooing again!” Exclaims Nandor, making the candles rise in flame for only a short second at his rise in emotion for how much he loves you.

“I don’t doubt they would fall by your blade. Not for a second.”

[gravityflops]

Parent Guidance Recommended

word count: 3,281

focus characters: Pacifica Northwest, Fiddleford H. McGucket

warnings: child neglect, implications of alcoholism, implications of infidelity, mugging, knives, threatening, generally awful people

summary: On the worst birthday she’s ever had, Pacifica finds herself seeking support from a source she’d least expect; the new owner of the once-Northwest Manor, her own former home.

Pacifica was turning fourteen on the Fourth of July. A perfect birthday. Perfect girl. Perfect family.

Her parents would throw a party. Like any Northwest party, with gorgeous, itchy lace ball gowns and impeccable etiquette, each word in every conversation spoken with flawless flow, with purposeful posture and respect-demanding mannerisms. A perfect party for perfect people, with perfect food prepared.

After claiming her designated ruby-studded chair at the dinner table, she would be shocked when her plate was revealed to her. Deep-fried Roareos. Stacked in a small sweet-powdered delicious heap in front of her, chocolately, cream-filled cookies, dipped in batter and deep-fried to perfection. Sugary. Messy. Pacifica had never had it before. How did her parents know she wanted to try it?

She turned her head to cast a quizzical look to her parents, who’d been watching her, holding each other with loving smiles directed at her. A warm feeling spread inside her like warm butter. She reached for a fork.. but hesitated, and hovered her hand over the plate instead. She casted another glance at her parents to see their reaction. No cold response was elicited so far. In fact, she could have sworn her father nodded in approval.

She delicately picked one of the cookies up with her thumb and forefinger, and raised it to her lips to nibble at it. Her senses were flooded with warm, sweet goodness. Just as amazing as she imagined. She stuffed the rest in her mouth, going so far as to lick her fingers. Her lips were coated with melted cream. She neglected the napkins beside her plate to instead lick the sugar mixture from her lips. Barbaric. But her parents didn’t seem to mind either of the actions. She thought she even heard an amused giggle from her mother.

“Sweetie, would you like your presents now or after you’re finished?” Priscilla— no, this was Mom— asked. Pacifica paused. She had a say? Were they not on a schedule? She supposed if she was given the option, she would love to open gifts while she snacked on the rest of the Roareos.

“Now, please,” the young blond girl responded. On cue, one of the butlers was beside her, placing a neatly-packaged gift box on her lap. A beautiful purple silk ribbon sat on top, holding it together. She couldn’t recall the last time she felt so eager to reveal its contents.

What was inside? Some comfy clothes? Paint, perhaps? A cute animal plush that would contrast the creepy porcelain dolls in her room? The possibilities were endless.

Delightfully, she tugged at it. The box opened. As she peered inside, her excitement dissolved. The warm feeling turned to ice.

The bell. The one her father carried on his person at all times. The one that willed his command in the mansion. The one Pacifica hated. Suddenly Preston was standing over her, slowly picking the bronze item up.

Loving smile gone, replaced with a disapproving, even disgusted scowl. She shrank in her seat.

“Pacifica Elise Northwest,” he boomed. “So it’s true. You’re mingling with the common, ignoble crowds these days.”

“No!” she found herself crying out. “It’s not like that! I have to!”

“Have to what? Work a lowly job as a waitress in that slobbish cesspit? At that- that disgusting, sorry excuse for a dining destination? THAT’S NOT ACCEPTABLE EVER. How can you call yourself a Northwest? How can you call yourself our daughter?”

The very first thought she woke up to was that it was too good to be real.

Tangled in her sheets, warm tears trickling down her cheeks. She sniffled and quickly wiped them away before slipping out of bed.

The house was dark. Silent. The clock on the wall read 7:52. Her parents’ bedroom was empty as she passed. It smelled of wine. They would not be back for a while. Pacifica found herself releasing a sigh, her tension easing a little, even if that meant she’d be spending her birthday alone for the very first time. She leaned against the doorframe and closed her eyes, trying to recall the good part of the dream, trying to revive the taste of the sugary treat, but it was gone. Soured by the unreality of it. All it was doing was making her hungry belly ache.

When checking the refrigerator, cabinets and pantry and coming to the realization that all that was left was a loaf of bread, a half-empty tube of Bringles and a couple dinner kits. No breakfast food. Not even a single egg. Not even leftovers. Something like despair and disappointment blossomed inside her. She would have to eat at the diner again…

She snagged her wallet from the counter only to find her twenty had disappeared, leaving only a couple measly ones and fives and whatever coins were loose inside. She felt the tears building a little again and slapped the wallet shut to try to stifle them. There was a time she had nearly everything, but now after Weirdmaggedon, she couldn’t even trust that her own hard-earned cash wouldn’t be snagged if left around her own greedy birthgivers. Her strength was being sapped by the will not to burst into a sobbing fit. There was enough in there to cover breakfast at work when she got to Greasy’s, at least.

With her belly still growling, she changed out of her nightwear, threw on her apron and a pair of aviators and began the walk to work.

The day was a bright one, sunny and a little breezy. A pleasant temperature. It did not reflect how Pacifica felt. Despite the summer weather, she pulled her scarf over her head, casting shade over her face. The neighborhood streets were mostly void of people, every house gated off. Just because they lost the mansion did not mean the Northwests were living in squalor, but her spending money was strictly monitored. Her parents now enforced that any money she spent, she’d have to earn. A fourteen year old. A child. Just so her birthgivers could ensure a few extra dollars in their account.

Pacifica couldn’t help but feel the fanciness of the neighborhood was almost deceitful. Her own household was a prime example. Her own rumbling tummy was a prime example. She wondered if there were others who lived in these houses that had similar problems as hers. Unlikely here.. however there were definitely others, people who’d been pushed to extremes just to get by.

Whether that was the reason behind why Pacifica soon found herself being followed halfway through the trip, she didn’t know. The feeling of being watched intensified by the minute, and glances into the reflections of shop windows told her there was a person. They refused to let up for at least a couple of blocks, the likelihood that they were just going the same direction by chance was steadily decreasing. They probably saw her leaving the wealthier neighborhood. The young girl picked up her pace. It did her no good.

The next moments were a blur. Her arm was snatched. When she struggled, a slice put a stop to it. Her arm began to bleed. Something sharp pressed to her throat, stiffening every muscle in her body. Vulgar language was hurled at her, demanding cooperation before her purse was yanked from her shoulder, and she was thrown to the curb. She was left winded, bruised, panicked and hyperventilating. She struggled for her breath back.

Mugged. She’d been mugged for the few measly dollars she had on her. And the fact that her first thought after all that was concern for what her parents would think that she let those precious dollars be nicked in the first place.. it only increased her distraught. Her breaths hastened more and more, and she didn’t realize her tears had finally started to flow until she was already sprinting down the street, her vision muddled. Every step felt like thunder to her ears. Home. She just wanted to go home. Maybe she couldn’t be herself as much, and maybe she was always busy, under constant supervision. But at least there was stability. At least there was certainty of the future. At least it was comfortable, at least there was always food on the table, breakfast, lunch and dinner. At least her father never stumbled around reeking of alcohol while only Lord knew where her mother was. Maybe her parents weren’t the best to other people but at least she could be certain they were true to each other. At least she could pretend everything was fine.

Pacifica wasn’t sure how far she’d gone. She was sweaty, she felt gross and sticky. Her legs were sore, threatening to give out if she went any further. She was still bleeding. She ached everywhere. But she’d reached her destination. She stood at the bottom of a familiar, long driveway, and at the top, sitting on a large hill, towering over the town stood the proud family mansion. Waves of nostalgia and sorrow crashed over her. Everything felt so gross. Every memory tainted by the knowledge of her parents’ true nature. She couldn’t even speak to anyone, not even her parents. Who would listen to a rich brat whine about how she used to be richer? Certainly not any of the townsfolk.

She found herself staring at the manor for a while, not entirely sure what to do.

“...What am I doing here…?” Pacifica whispered, sniffling and reaching for the tissues she kept in her purse, only to be hit with the whirlwind of events that had just happened again. Her arm stung. She could barely hold herself upright. She felt so… so tired. She meekly wiped her nose on her sleeve, and started to turn around when suddenly she bumped into someone.

“Wo-ah there, kiddo, careful, better watch where ya—” a cheerful voice piped, before cutting itself off when the sight of Pacifica in her disheveled state registered. “Huh? Hey.. Ah’ know you.”

Color drained from Pacifica’s cheeks. This guy again.. Why was he here? She quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks as she tried a witty remark, but — “Y-y-ea-h, well-, wh-o w-ou-uldn’-t-” — ultimately failing when her quivering body wouldn’t stop heaving sobs. Again she sniffled. Disgusting. In front of the hillbilly too.

McGucket’s face morphed into something like sympathy. He kneeled down to her height. “Ah- hey, what’s goin’ on kiddo? Are ya alright?”

Pacifica parted her lips. She wanted to say yes. Her instincts screamed at her to say yes. She could practically hear her birthgivers demanding her to say yes. She had to be perfect. She had to be flawless. She had to be stoic, proud, happy, for her family.

But that’s not what came out.

“n-NO!” she cried, her knees finally buckling as if the years of abuse weighing down on her shoulders finally came crashing down on top of her. Her face buried in her hands, sobbing violently into them. She wasn’t okay, she wasn’t okay, she wasn’t okay. Wails and cries escaped. She couldn’t stop the tears anymore. She was in so much pain, she was so alone. The sobs wouldn’t stop. The raging storm of emotion only continued to demolish her walls, clawing at her pride and self esteem. Everything she pretended to be crashed and burned at that moment.

Fiddleford had been a little stunned by the sudden breakdown, but he started to piece the situation together from the bits and pieces the poor girl was babbling. He didn’t get up and walk away like Pacifica was expecting him to. He stayed put, even placed his hand on her shoulder to try to console her. When she didn’t flinch away from him, the old man started rubbing circles on her back as she cried and cried. Fiddleford never was the best at comfort.. though he could only imagine how long this outburst had been bottled up, and he thought it best that Pacifica let it all out before trying to say anything.

It was a while before Pacifica’s sobs began to calm enough to allow her to speak in more coherent sentences. The story became clearer. She spoke about how her parents had mistreated her, like she was an accessory rather than a human being, a literal child. How things had been getting worse this past year since they were forced to move due to her father’s irresponsible stock market decisions during Weirdmaggedon, to preserve what fortune they had left. How she felt more at home at the diner than she ever did at her own residence. How she hardly saw her parents anymore. How everything had changed for the worst. The way her parents had become about money, even how they scolded her for ‘nagging’ about her birthday the previous day, when it had been the first time she brought it up in half a year. It all hurt terribly to speak of but Pacifica couldn’t help but notice the sudden weightless feeling after getting everything out. She was surprised to find Old Man McGucket was still listening.

“Y’know,” he spoke finally, “Ah knew a fella once who thought ‘e had everythin’ before ‘e lost it all too. ‘Should’a been there for ‘im like he needed.”

Pacifica was quiet for a moment. “..W..ho was he?”

Fiddleford only waved his hand. “Ol’ college buddy. Doin’ mighty fine these days. Now whaddya say we get off’a the street an’ patch up that lil’ ol’ scratch a’ yours inside?”

It tooka moment to register the question through his southern accent, but when she did, her eyebrows knit together in confusion. “..I- inside..?”

Inside the mansion. Pacifica almost couldn’t believe it. Old Man McGucket was the one that bought the Northwest Manor. She wondered how on earth a former homeless man was possibly able to afford such a grand purchase, until peeks into a couple rooms along the hallway that had been filled with computers and strange machinery told her she didn’t know nearly as much about McGucket as she previously thought.

It was so strange walking through the hallways again. Everything was the same, but different. Was the grand rustic architecture and furniture always so beautiful? And… were those.. raccoons she was spotting out of the corner of her eyes?

McGucket led her to a room with a couch- a familiar silver-themed room with a certain carpet pattern. It looked nearly the same, except for the banjo leaning against the couch’s armrest, and maybe a few more stains than its previous flawless condition “for guests- that is, for guests to look at”. Despite her emotional state, she found herself smiling at the memory of her adventures with Dipper Pines, trying to bust that ghost… until she recalled the punishment her parents had made for her after that was all over. She began to feel a little sick. Her gaze dropped to the floor as McGucket trudged into the room, plopped onto the couch and patted the cushions beside him. Hesitantly, she followed him and did as gestured. It was.. weird to be back. She wiped her eyes again.

“How’d that’a happen?”

“..What?” the question hit her like a slap.

“The cut.” He gestured to the bleeding injury with a bandaged hand.

“...Oh.” Again, her gaze dropped. Her eyes began to mist again before she shut them. “..I-I.. I was.. um.. mugged on the way here… They stole my favorite purse…” Shame burned at her belly. She didn’t see any sign of judgement in McGucket’s reaction, though. He didn’t ask why she let that happen, or why she wasn’t responsible enough to bring someone with her. There was only concern for her.

“Oh.. ‘Ahm sorry that’a happened. Gravity Falls’s usually safe.. er- ah..” The old man scratched the back of his head. “‘least, it’s not the people ya gotta usually worry ‘bout.”

“Heh.. yeah..” Shrugging, the old man pulled out a full-blown first aid kid, temporarily baffling Pacifica for a moment. “Wai- were you just carrying that—?”

The question went without a response as McGucket went straight to disinfecting the cut. “‘Doesn��t look terri-bubly deep,” he piped. “Should’a stopped bleeding by now but we’ll patch it up ta’ keep it safe while it’s a-healin’.”

“Wait.. how do you know how to do this..?” Pacifica asked, furrowing her eyebrows a little. The old man gave her a cheery grin.

“Well, ‘gotta pick up somethin’ ‘bout it after livin’ in the dump buildin’ evil whatsits and thingamajigs outta rusty metal for a couple’a decades.”

..Oh. Well, that would make sense, she supposed.. Briefly, the question as to why he was being so nice to her after the way she and her family treated him crossed her mind. She wondered if that friend he mentioned had something to do with it… Suddenly she found herself wishing she’d paid closer attention to the details of the relationships between the other people involved in the zodiac. She guessed it could be that hotter Mr. Pines (or.. Dr. Pines?), she recalled seeing some kind of emotional exchange between him and McGucket during Weirdmaggedon.

Occupied with her thoughts, she hardly realized McGucket had completely finished with the bandage until he announced it.

“Done!” he cheered, stuffing the first aid kit back into the oblivion from which it came. Weird. More Gravity Falls weirdness. “...Thanks.”

“Anytime, sweetie. Y’always got’a listenin’ ear right here if ya’ need it.”

Pacifica gave him a small, grateful smile. The old man would never know what that meant to her.

“I.. I don’t know..” she sighed softly. “Today was just… awful… It’s the first birthday I’ll be spending alone, and I guess it’s… getting to me…”

“Yer birthday’s today?? Ah, Ah’m sorry, sugerbun,” McGucket spoke. “Awful break, goin’ through somethin’ like a’this on’a birthday mornin’. Say, ya always got a place right ‘ere if ya need. Plenty a’ empty bedrooms.”

Pacifica raised her head. “...R...Really..?”

McGucket beamed. “Why sure! Ya remind me a’ my lil’ Tator Tot, Ah’ miss ‘em somethin’ terrible. It gets a lil’ lonely in this ‘ere big ol’ mansion sometimes and ah wouldn’t mind a visit from some young folk from a’time ta’ time.”

She could… she could visit. Whenever she wanted? Her old home, without her parents around. McGucket was that okay with her? Even going so far as to compare her to (presumably) his own kid? That was… incredible. Before thinking it through, she threw her arms around the old man, chorusing her ‘thank you’s with a bubble of laughter. Though startled, Fiddleford slowly returned the hug with a warm smile.

He stank quite a bit. Pacifica recoiled a little at the realization of what she was doing. Ew. What would people think of her if they caught her doing something so unthinkable? Willingly embracing this stinky old man who…. gave incredible hugs.. Her concern suddenly dissolved. In its stead, a certain safety appeared, and she melted into it a little more. It was the same feeling she craved in her dreams. Dirt didn’t matter at all anymore. The feeling of a parental embrace shielding her from the unpleasantness of the world was all she could bring herself to care about at that moment. It felt so warm… Before she knew it, she was tearing up again.

“...Thank you, McGucket..”

“Heheh, anytime, sugarbun. Say, since it is yer birthday, whaddya say we hit th’ town an’ find somethin’ ta’ cheer ya up?”

Pacifica wiped her eyes with her palm. What an offer... To think a year ago she would never had even considered walking around with the old kook as a possible option, but.. She found herself looking forward to it. “I… I would love that.”

[Part 1 of ??? possibly 2??]

[dennou-translations]

Violet Evergarden Booklet 1

Please feel free to message me about possible corrections. If you can, consider supporting the creators by purchasing the official releases. In case anyone is feeling generous: Ko-fi | PayPal. ( ╹◡╹)っ’･*

Index || Next →

That day was a special one for me, but to the rest of the world, this was not the case.

   Ann Magnolia and Her Nineteenth Birthday

   There was a number of things I had to do on the special day called today.

I would wake up in the morning and check the weather. As if a tale were beginning, I would turn the curtains over and look outside the window.

The radiant daylight shone on my eyes. Today was sunny. Knowing that made me happy. That I had woken up enveloped in sunshine. That I didn’t have to worry about my letter getting drenched in rain. It was almost as if the truth of these facts was blessing the day.

——I’m happy.

Very happy.

I didn’t usually say this, but I felt like saying it today, so I whispered as I laid back down, “Good morning.”

Husky with wake, my voice echoed through the quiet bedroom. I wandered around in search for someone to have a conversation with from the words “good morning”. However, I couldn’t find anyone to hear them, so they pointlessly vanished somewhere.

If you were just by yourself, words would die as soon as they were born. I knew that as the truth of this world. Like flowers that withered without changing colors, like small birds that couldn’t endure the coldness of midwinter, my words would promptly die. After all, words were tools for people to communicate their intentions. So if there was no other party, they would all but die. That was evident.

There was no one who would reply to me with a “good morning”. There was no one in this house that would do a morning greeting, so if anyone were to say that this much was obvious, it sure was. But in my memories, someone whose voice I had already forgotten would return my words. In a warm and soft voice that was probably how my mother sounded, they would be returned to me.

“Good morning, Ann.”

——Good morning.

“Today is a special day, huh.”

——I know; I’d been counting them with my fingers.

“Your long-awaited birthday.”

With a nod, I stood up.

Today, I was turning nineteen. Twelve years had passed since I had been left all by myself when I was seven years old. I reflected thoroughly upon that reality alone and proudly.

I left my bedroom still wearing a negligee, heading to the spiral staircase. There were portraits hanging in rows from the staircase’s wall.

“My, you’re going outside dressed like this just because you’re at home?”

Decorated with pictures of family members, the wall used to be terrifying for me when I was a child, but it became less so after my mother was added to them. I would go up and down those stairs countless times every day, but the only spot that I would end up directing my gaze to for a few seconds was the portrait of my mother and my childhood self.

If, by any chance, there was strength to the thing called “love”, I thought, if there was a force residing within love, wouldn’t this image start moving one day, since it was the only one I looked at as if I were yearning for something?

I would end up embracing such fantasies.

“I won’t change, no matter how much you stare at me. By the way, doesn’t my complexion look a little bad in this portrait? I should have had more paint put over it.”

Of course, it was just a fabrication.

Having come down the stairs, I went to the front entrance, its door a little worn-out. I should call a repairer. The house was a living being just like me, and since it was already quite old, it was always broken somewhere.

“I also want you to tend to the garden. When was the last time you held a broom?”

As I came outside, I could see this place’s whole scenery. There was nothing but lush grassland and tree-lined roads. The idyllic sight was awfully boring, but above that, it was beautiful, so if you made a frame with your fingers, you would immediately have a scenic picture. In this entire area, there were no other houses in sight. Of course. This territory was under the control of the Magnolias, hence this view belonged to me, the family head.

As long as I didn’t sell or give it away, this landscape would never change. And, same as the previous family heads, I didn’t wish for it to change. Neither did I wish to leave this place. Even if I was all by myself.

“Ann, let’s take a look inside the mailbox.”

I took a look inside the mailbox. Perhaps because it was still early in the morning, there was nothing in it yet.

“It’ll surely be coming soon.”

Today was the day when I, Ann Magnolia, was born. Every year on my birthday, I would get letters from my late mother. Letters from my mother, who by now had become a portrait, would be delivered to me.

“There is no such thing as a letter that needn’t be delivered, Milady.”

To be precise, letters with my mother’s feelings blown into them and ghostwritten by an Auto-Memories Doll would be delivered to me. It was a strange story, but a true one.

“Auto-Memories Doll”. Long had passed ever since this name caused a stir.

The creator was an authority in the field of mechanical dolls, Professor Orlando. His wife, Molly, was a novelist, and all had begun with the posterior loss of her eyesight. He then invented a machine to perform ghostwriting for his beloved wife and named it Auto-Memories Doll. Nowadays, people who worked as ghostwriters were also called Auto-Memories Dolls.

When I was seven, my mother, who was plagued with a serious illness, summoned a beautiful blue-eyed Auto-Memories Doll to our manor. She made her write several letters and hired a postal company to deliver them to me even after her death. She had been secretly planning out a few decades worth of birthday messages for her beloved daughter.

The person who had made this request was an oddball, but the ones who had accepted the job were quite odd themselves. Had they not imagined that someone would abandon it at some point? Had they sealed the contract for such a heavy, troublesome work without any refusal because they were horribly bad at their business, or was it because they were too nice? Having grown into a creditable lady and come to understand the world to a certain extent, I would ponder about such things. Surely, it was because they were nice. Thanks to them, even though I didn’t have a single relative now, at least on my birthday I could recall what being loved by someone felt like.

Just like that, I stood fidgety in front of the mailbox. Closing my eyes, I cleared off the dust on the box of my memories.

——I remember. That she had come around. That she would be over there, quietly writing letters. I remember the figure of that person and of my smiling mother. Surely, until I died...

That few-days’ time had been seared into my mind. Back then, my... Back then, Ann Magnolia’s frizzy hair was still short, and she was selfish and pretended to be taller. She was a helpless child. A very young one. How old she was? Seven years old. An age where one would still long for their mother. Her mother was the center of the world. If her mother died, she wouldn’t even be able to breathe. She was that kind of child. She was aware that her emotions were unstable and that she tended to act a little rashly.

Most people would treat someone like me nicely, and that was it. People who had their eyes on my fortune attempted to get close to me, but once they noticed that I had no intention to let them do so, they never showed their faces to me again.

That person—that person... Violet Evergarden. That Auto-Memories Doll was a bit different from other people, I thought...

Whenever I wondered what was so different about her, I would find myself thinking.

Back then, Ann Magnolia had fallen in love with a mysterious girl who had come around all of a sudden. It was a little girl’s romantic love out of adoration. She both hated and liked the Auto-Memories Doll who had come around out of the blue and stolen her time with her mother.

——What was it that I liked about her?

She was a taciturn and unsociable. A silent porcelain doll. She seemed extremely adult-like. But looking back, she often reacted like a child who knew nothing. Even when I gave her dolls, she didn’t know how to play. Neither did she have any knowledge of how to solve riddles. Even when I made her touch bugs, she never ran away like my mother or our maid. Whenever I invited her to join hands and spin around, we would do it to no end.

“Fufu...”

She was a weird person. Yes, a weird one.

Children would look at adults and measure them by whether they were scary or foolish, would be their allies or enemies, would give them candy or not, and other such things. They would stare very, very fixatedly and judge the grown-ups.

She... that beautiful Auto-Memories Doll... Violet Evergarden was not an adult.

——Yes, she was... how should I put it? She was Violet Evergarden.

Which was why I had snuggled up to her, the same type of person as myself, just like two cats nestling close to each other, I thought.

She was a beautiful child. A beautiful beast. I found her eccentric self to be cool, so I liked her.

Where was she now and what was she doing, I wondered.

I was turning nineteen, but back in the day, she must have been younger than I am now. For her to have prosthetic arms, it wasn’t hard to imagine what had happened to her at the time, when the war had just ended. But surely, there was no doubt that her life had been full of many more ups and downs than the story I had in mind.

Did she not express her emotions enough because she was carrying some sort of wound in her heart? She was such a beautiful person, so she must have won over the heart of some wonderful person by now...

I shook my head left and right. I mustn’t have unjust suspicions of her. I shouldn’t prod into how I was back then – into the Ann Magnolia of back then – and taint it. Even if it was just me with myself, I mustn’t do that. Because all of the joys and sorrows from that time belonged to the old me, who had endured those days. Having become an adult, I shouldn’t have any say over the mental landscape of my old self, as a third party.

Having grown up, I observed my own land, which spread out endlessly. The scent of gently swaying grass and flowers, the chattering of birds, the clouds that moved slowly in the blue sky. It felt like they would be here just like that for a hundred more years.

“It’s not coming, huh. Let’s go eat breakfast.”

Since the postman wasn’t showing up, I had no choice but go back into the manor.

I had been working at home lately. I used to go outside and enjoy the world when I was a student, but I realized that, in the end, I liked being in my house. Maybe this was a Magnolia bloodline thing.

As for my from-home job, I worked with legal counseling. When I was little, I had experienced disputes amongst my own relatives over me and my assets. That was the reason why, if I had to give any.

My mother had left me with a talented legal advisor. A person of outstanding character, who still concerned himself with me even now. As a young child, I excelled at catching insects that I had never seen before, but I didn’t have the means to oppose to the people who wanted to steal this land from me one way or another.

I had started off working at the city’s legal information center, introduced to me by the legal advisor, who had taken me in, and only recently had I become independent. Living in the city had made me realize many things. That there were many people in this world who weren’t protected like me. And that this wasn’t something those people themselves wanted, but things had turned out in such a way due to the environment they were in.

The ascension of the ghostwriting business had a similar background. Children would be made to work like adults, unable to go to school, so when they grew up and had to sign any documents, they couldn’t even write their own names.

People like that, who had been raised in environments where no one helped them, weren’t a rarity. I had heard that the literacy rate was currently rising, but it would still take a long time for this to become something unusual.

Just like with ghostwriting, one could become somebody’s ally through the law. It was especially necessary for children who had been thrown out like me and younglings who were about to enter the world of adults, I believed. Because they could earn completely different futures as a result if they acquired knowledge.

“The law is a weapon,” my legal advisor would say. I agreed with that. My property had been protected by this weapon many times. Some people would say that education was the weapon, but the situations for putting it to use were too limited. Weapons exerted their true value exactly when you had to protect yourself from falling victim to unjust acts or insults.

If possible, I wanted to be someone who could protect others. I wanted to tell people who didn’t know what to do and had become incapable of even walking on their own, “It’s all right; I’ll be your ally”. Because I wanted someone to do that for me back when I was alone.

My reason for choosing law was rooted in this kind of self-righteous way of thinking.

Since I worked from home, I didn’t earn much. To be honest, people would think that being a professional was a pastime for a landowning wealthy lady. I was fine with that.

The people who came to visit me in this remote place were generally in critical situations and had nothing. Those who had something would go to the city. They would go to the city, bow their heads to some famous person, be served a fine brand of tea... and have a graceful conversation while drinking it.

If I could, I wanted to get close to people, just like her. Just like the Auto-Memories Doll who had told me on that day that it was okay to cry. Even if for self-satisfaction.

Speaking of which, I thought as I checked the calendar. Today was my birthday, so I intended to wait for the postman the whole day and hadn’t scheduled any appointments, but a client was coming tomorrow. I should clean up the reception room at least a little.

“Hey, Ann. It is your birthday, so how about going outside with your friends and having a meal with them?”

I had to sweep the floor, take the garbage off the carpet and dust the dirt on the furniture.

“Even just eating something tasty is enough, Ann.”

Right, I should bake some sweets to serve to the costumer tomorrow. It could also be used as celebration for my birthday.

“Ann, aren’t you lonely all by yourself?”

If I was certain, that person had eaten the sweets I baked when we first met with relish. He had a sweet tooth.

As I recalled the figure of that young entrepreneur eating, looking embarrassed and delighted, a smile surfaced naturally. Out of the people that I was currently engaging with, he might be the one whose visit I looked forward to the most. I did think that men were frowny and sullen creatures, but he was adorable.

I rolled up my sleeves with an “all right” and headed to the kitchen.

   “Delivery.”

As the front door’s bell rang and the voice of a visitor ensued, I frantically flung away my bowl and whisk and ran. This is what happens when you distractedly make sweets for about an hour. I was covered in flour and looking unbecoming, but there was no helping it.

“Yes, I’m coming.”

I opened the door in high spirits, and standing there was a postman wearing the uniform of the city’s post office, which I was familiar with. I was disappointed enough that even I myself would think it was a bit childish of me. The other didn’t see my facial expression as he requested my signature for the express delivery without looking at me, but I wound up having an impolite attitude.

——It wasn’t the CH Postal Company.

My mother’s birthday messages were being kept by the CH Postal Company, a mail company that had its main office located in Leiden – the capital of Leidenschaftlich, a southernmost military nation. Therefore, if a different company had come, then the mail wasn’t from my mother.

“Thank you very much.”

I had received three packages. One was a table clock from my legal advisor. The others were accessories and a shawl that were trending in the city from my friends.

There were people getting married and having children upon turning nineteen. All of my closest friends had been quick to marry. Both my opinion that secluding themselves in their homes was a waste in this era of professional women and my envy at the fact that they had found themselves a partner in an early stage of their lives coexisted in the depths of my mind.

“You don’t have to hurry; if you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to.”

Having lost my mother, with this vast land and this manor of excessively elegant exterior in my possession... I couldn’t think that having a family wouldn’t be a good thing.

——Family... family... family, huh?

Did I want a family? Did I really? Those genuine questions surfaced in my mind first-thing.

Welcoming a family would mean welcoming that person’s life. It was an extremely heavy choice. “In health and sickness,” people would lightheartedly say. I believed there were actually few people who properly understood it.

My friends who had married. The people who walked around the city. Lovers and family members from all over the world – everyone. Did they all truly understand? They only looked on the happy side, so could they endure it when a sad scenario arrived upon them? Wouldn’t they end up thinking that not loving the other person would have been better?

“Human beings are creatures that love others in pursuit of happiness, Ann.”

In my experience, since I had seen off the person who was most important to me, the truth was that I didn’t want to go through it ever again. Being told to do it one more time was too hard. Even twenty years later, painful things would be painful.

I brought my consciousness back to reality.

Colorful ribbons, extravagant wrappings and wonderful gifts. As my social disposition was coming to a slight halt, those people were irreplaceable to me. I had to write thank-you notes right away. For these kinds of things, the faster, the better. Because it conveyed sincerity.

I should go back to my bedroom and look for the stationery and envelopes. They were surely somewhere there.

“Ann.”

——Aah, but was it a pretty stationery?

Maybe I should choose a different one, fitting of these wonderful presents.

“Ann, listen.”

They were surely items that took a while to be picked, so I should respond to the other party’s feelings the same way. There were many things to be watchful of here. I had to do it quick. I had to do it soon.

“Please listen.”

Nobody else was going to do it; I was the one who had to. No matter what, I had to do it. I had to taste joy and sadness all by myself and end it fast. Because I was alone. Hurry. I had to hurry and do it.

Nevertheless, I couldn’t move.

“Ann.”

I was in the middle of making sweets, and writing thank-you notes required some preparation. Above all, I couldn’t calm down until my mother’s letter arrived.

Giving several reasons, I made up several excuses not to move.

“Ann... it’s okay.”

I suddenly felt exhausted. Everything became a bother. Even though hands were covered in flour and I was still wearing an apron, I lay on the couch, rolled into fetal position and scrunched down.

Although I had received such marvelous gifts, the feeling of happiness didn’t last. Even though it was something to be grateful for to the point I could be in a good mood the whole day, the feeling of happiness didn’t last. It didn’t last.

“Ann, it’s okay.”

Today was that kind of day.

“Ann, don’t force yourself; I’m sorry.”

——I’m sorry.

“Sorry...”

——I’m sorry.

“Ann, I’m sorry...”

To me, my birthday was...

“...for leaving you behind when you were so small.”

...not my day. It was my mother’s.

——Mom. Why? Just why? Why, Mom? Why did you die sooner than the mothers of the other kids? What is it that went wrong? Did the fact that I was born itself become a burden to you? If so, then I shouldn’t have been born.

I loved you, Mom. Did you know that? I liked you a whole, whole lot. Tired of hearing this? But you didn’t know it, right? Even if you knew, you probably didn’t understand how much I liked you. I’m sure you had no idea how much.

When I realized it, I had more time seeing you in a grave than otherwise. But you’re everywhere in our house. On the sofa that you often sat on. In the music that you enjoyed. On the bed that still smells like you. In myself, who resembles you more and more with each day.

Mom, Mom, Mom – you keep reminding me of how much I loved you. When I was little, you were the world itself.

Mom. You loved me. I know that. But I loved you too. I was the one who... I was... I was... I was the one who...

Aah, Mom. Mom, there are so many things I want to tell you. But if I can say it, there’s just one thing.

Mom, you died without knowing how much I loved you, right?

I loved you much more than you could’ve imagined. I really, really suffered when you died. Enough that I couldn’t breathe.

People often say that time heals all wounds. But I really hate that saying. Rather than things being solved, we forget about them, don’t we? People’s voices, facial expressions, gestures – we forget these kinds of things. Yet I remember them in unexpected times. Like, “Oh, yeah, Mom used to like this”. “Oh, yeah, Mom used to hate that”. And then I blame myself vehemently for forgetting them. Like, “How could you have forgotten? She was your whole world”. Like, “How could you have forgotten? She was your only family”. The loop of agony has no end.

I adored you, Mom. I loved you. I loved you, so for just as much love as I had for you, it feels like my heart will break. It feels like my heart will break every time my birthday comes around. Feels like it will break. It’s painful and there’s no helping it.

Tears slip down my cheeks as I laid on my side. I was looking forward to today so much that I didn’t know what to do with myself, and yet I wound up crying again this year. I would’ve been great if I could welcome it with a smile.

A birthday was a special day.

It was nothing to the rest of the world, just an ordinary day, but it was a special one for me. Because... Because it was a day when I could feel Mom coming back to me. I looked forward to it so much that I couldn’t help myself, but at the same time, I was also helplessly sad. Because I felt my mother’s absence more than anything. Because the truth that she wasn’t here was thrust onto me.

Destiny spoke to me. Either that or God did. “Hey, your mother’s already dead. How long you gonna be crying? Stand up. If you’re alive, stand up.”

Since the world was so merciless, all I could do was nod at those words and say, “Yes, yes, true.”

By entrusting my body to hecticness, I was able to remain as someone who could stand on her own feet, just like Destiny and God wanted. I normally didn’t feel loneliness. I didn’t cry. After all, twelve years had already passed. It was weird to cry like this on and on forever. It was weird, right? I wasn’t a kid anymore. I shouldn’t cry too much. That would make me a bad girl. A girl wasn’t suitable to be the family head of the Magnolia household. I had to become a person who my mother could be proud of from within that portrait.

Wasn’t that right? I couldn’t prove the worth of my existence by doing anything else.

But on this day when I was aware that my mother loved me, I was no good. No good. I’d turn into a mess. The seven-year-old Ann Magnolia would come back to me. She’d say it all. She’d end up saying it. Always, always, always. She’d say what I was holding back from saying.

“I’m lonely”, that is.

I had as many ways of spending my birthday as I had birthdays. Surely, there were millions of people in the world whose birthday was today. How were all of them spending it? Were they spending it in a fulfilling way? There definitely were also people who lived their lives either not knowing when their birthday was or forgetting about it.

So I wasn’t miserable. Nor was I comparing myself with them. That wasn’t it. Because there were certainly people somewhere around the world who were feeling as lonely as me.

There was another thing that I had learned during the time I worked in the city. That loneliness wasn’t something only I had. Many people would come to the law firm and ask for advice regarding their troubles. Everyone was burdened with problems of their own. And everyone was a bit lonely in some aspect. It wasn’t just me, so I didn’t feel lonely.

That person too, and that one, and that other one. Everybody was sad in one way or another.

“I have to get up.”

I had stopped doing what I would do by accident – stopped throwing myself into a sea of sadness. The sea of sadness in my head was a real nuisance, yet it was also comfortable as it enveloped my body in gentle waves of self-pity. But I shouldn’t go too far. Or else I wouldn’t be able to stand up again. It wasn’t like food and sweets would materialize from my sadness.

I counted the things I had to do. Bake sweets. Clean up. I had a number of torn aprons, which I would remake into rags. And then... And then...

“Madam Magnolia, are you home?”

A real-life happening immediately pulled me out of my reverie. I ran toward the front door, from where the voice had come. As I opened the door with much vigor while making extremely improper heavy-feet noises, I found two visitors.

“Hum?”

One of them was... Aah, I was waiting for you. It was a postman wearing the CH Postal Company uniform. He was holding under his arm a letter and a package with what was most likely the gift that my mother had arranged for today.

“Aah, excuse me. Please go first.”

The other was the customer who had made an appointment reservation for tomorrow. A stray young entrepreneur. His finely tailored clothes were easy to recognize as something not order-made and that he didn’t like but was wearing regardless.

Had he mistaken the appointment day?

“Erm, then...”

The two had bumped onto each other at the front gate and both had some business with me, so they were probably conceding the turn to one another. Having been granted it, the CH Postal Company’s postman stood before me, politely giving me the letter and present with a slightly tensed-up countenance.

“This is the CH Postal Company. I have come to bring your delivery... You might be already tired of hearing this vocal message so many times, but happy birthday this year too, Madam Magnolia.”

That was a postman I had never seen before. It was a different person from last year.

“T-Tired, you say... There’s no way I would ever be.”

Still, the fact he was saying these lines meant that the demands commissioned by my mother were being properly kept and protected by that company. That was it.

“Thank you very much. For every year, truly... truly. Please tell this to your chairman too.”

“Y-Yes! Our president is the kind of person that gets very happy at inputs from the clients, so I’ll make sure to tell him!”

I had never met the president of the CH Postal Company, but for someone so young to be talking about him in such a familiar-sounding way, he had to be a wonderful person.

“I’m taking it.”

I signed the acceptance document. The postman laughed as if relieved. Also relieved, I finally looked seriously at him. He was a very young postman. Perhaps from about the same generation as me. The freckled boy looked even younger when laughing.

“I became in charge of it this year. It’s a big area, so I ended up getting a bit lost... I made you wait a lot, didn’t I?”

“Eh, no, no.”

“But you came running as if you were eagerly waiting for it.”

“Yes.”

Recalling the surprised faces of the two young men the moment I had opened the door, I trembled with shame. I was supposed to behave elegant and beautifully as the head of the Magnolia family. Yet I was covered in flour, my hair was disheveled because I had been lying down and I had showed up with footsteps that sounded like the ones of a large man.

Touching my cheeks, which were most likely growing red, I said, “I apologize for showing you an embarrassing sight... No matter what, I always wind up restless on this day.”

“Absolutely not. I’m the one who is sorry for coming late. I have already perfectly memorized the way, so please treat me well next year too.” The postman bowed with a “well, then” and ran toward a parked motorcycle.

After seeing him off, I directed my gaze at the other visitor that had been waiting for me. He, too, slowly looked my way.

“Hello.”

The morning sunshine had disappeared, a dazzling midday light filling up for it. It seemed that quite some time had passed while I was sulking on the couch. With a season of fresh green colors as the background, he was supposed to be a foreign body for me... and for this world of mine, yet he blended appallingly well into it.

“Hello.” My voice sounded a little shrill. “Isn’t there any flour on my face?” As I said this while rubbing my cheeks with the sleeve of my dress, he took a handkerchief from his jacket and handed it to me.

Not minding me as I stiffened up in shock, he said with an earnest attitude, “There is, right here.”

“Ah, all right.”

“And here too.”

“I’m sorry. I was making sweets...”

Wiping myself with the neatly folded handkerchief, it almost seemed like I had gone back to being a child. It was the second time today that my cheeks were dyed red.

“Well, what is your matter...?”

“Aah, that’s right. I was nearby and... hum, I heard from Mr. Robert, the one who introduced you to me, that it was your birthday today, so... though it’s presumptuous of me, I was thinking about celebrating it...”

Robert was the law advisor who had been protecting me since my childhood. Now that he had mentioned it, I remembered that he was introduced to me by Robert. The budget wasn’t compatible with the case, so it had been passed over to me.

——“Nearby”?

Finding a strange point in a part of his story, I said timidly, “This whole area... is my land... You had business near here?”

Silence.

“You’re also seeing Mr. Robert even though you’re working with me...?”

He raised a hand my way as if to ask me to wait and averted his face, looking embarrassed. Had I said anything bad?

“I take it back.”

“All right.”

“I lied... I wanted, hum, to spend time with you somehow...”

“Haah...”

Perhaps having become unable to look at me in the eyes, he kept his face turned away and continued speaking to the direction of the day after tomorrow, “Mr. Robert is a teatime friend from a café that I already frequented... He introduced you to me as a favor... And I heard from him the other day that today was your birthday. Also, I did not just happen to come nearby. It’s impossible to come here without a car or carriage. I do not have much money, so I ended up walking the way here. But it was no coincidence; I came here because I had an objective.”

As I asked, “What’s the objective”, he turned over the palm that had been telling me to wait and showed it to me. That “it’s you”.

I was perplexed. This kind of thing hadn’t happened in my life very often. When it did, it was usually people aiming for my fortune, so I vaguely wondered if he was the same as them.

“Want to come in? If it’s just drinking tea together, then...”

In any case, as the head of the Magnolia family, I had to entertain the guest. After this thought worked its way to me, an alarm sounded in my head that he might deem this as an invitation. That wasn’t my intention, so what should I do if he believed it was?

——What’s up with me? I don’t know if I’m happy or scared.

Aah, my heartbeats were so loud. My cheeks were so hot it felt like they were burning.

——Anyway, I have to say something.

“Hum.”

As I hesitated to speak, he shook his head. “Ah, no. I will have to come again tomorrow, so I’m going home. I have already accomplished my objective.”

“Is that so?” I was a tad out of tune. A little – very relieved.

I observed him while he didn’t try to look at me even a bit. His hands were trembling. Even though he gave off an easygoing impression, he was the type of person who couldn’t hide what was inside.

“I really just came here because I wanted to wish you happy birthday. Just before coming, I hesitated a lot on whether to go today or not... I also don’t have... any presents worthy of a lady like you, so I wanted to at least say these words.”

That sentence surprised my already stunned self even more. “At least these words”, he said. Were there any words that could make his goodwill more obvious?

“I’m sorry. I should have at least arranged something for you, right? Really, a broke man like me showing up out of nowhere... I’m sorry...”

“No, I don’t want material things that much... I prefer this feeling of... wanting to celebrate because it’s my birthday... much more...”

The words cut off midway. What happened to me? Right now, pain and joy were squeezing my chest tightly. It was suffocating.

The easily perceivable love of this person in front of me, as well as his kindness, his sincerity and all these other soft and warm things were appearing in the lonely parts of me and causing me to feel dizzy.

“Ann, can you hear me?”

I had to regain my sanity; I would surely be sober again tomorrow. I shouldn’t open my heart so easily now.

“Ann, please, listen.”

Because the world was cruel. Even if I fell in love with him, sad things were bound to happen.

“Okay? If you’re listening...”

It might be a calculated love; he could just be pretending and was actually a horrible person.

No, I had to wonder about that. It was indeed true that he came the way here on foot. After all, his shoes were dirty with mud. There was grass sticking to it as if he gone through an animal trail.

“If you’re listening, grab onto it.”

Aah, Mom. From now on, I would surely keep questioning you over and over during times like these. Asking you questions in my mind. “Mom, is this correct? Is this the right path,” I would ask. Because you were the only one who had given me love without second intentions. So please, give me an answer.

“Believe in yourself, Ann. Don’t be afraid of love.”

I was sure that the vision of my mother had whispered this to me.

I reached out with my hand. I reached out and grabbed the hem of his jacket.

“I’m going to bake sweets now. Today is my birthday, but I don’t have any plans, so if you’d like, why don’t we eat the baked sweets together outside? I don’t need anything. If you’re going to give me something, then I want just a bit of time for us to celebrate my birthday together,” I told him.

“Thanks.” He was not unkind to my wheat flour-covered hand, grasping it while his face went bright red. “That’d be great,” he said three or so times. The phrase “I like sweet foods” was probably said five times.

I... I found it so funny that I laughed.

That day was a special one for me, but to the rest of the world, this was not the case. But I put in a little effort. I tried making it special on my own. From this point onward, I would definitely keep doing that. I would. I was all alone in this manor. But I was the most special girl in the world to a certain person. It was okay to indulge myself at least on my birthday. I thought this once again reading my mother’s letter later.

Ann, congratulations on your nineteenth birthday. I can’t imagine how you’re doing at nineteen years of age. I really wonder how you’re doing. Are you well? Aren’t you going hungry? I wonder if you became a wonderful lady. Aah, I want to see it. I truly wanted to see it. You have no idea how much I love you, do you? You see, Mom loves the nineteen-year-old you. I’ll love you even as you turn a hundred years old. I can’t tell you face-to-face, so I’m properly writing it here. I love you. No matter what anyone says, I love you. You have the right to be loved. My Ann, be free. My Ann, laugh with joy. My Ann, be happy. My Ann. Don’t be afraid of love.

—From Mom

   “There’s no such thing as a letter that needn’t be delivered, Milady.”

[elareine]

Jason is like the best mom friend to his brother's friends. Some of them probably bunk in Jason's apartment when they're in Gotham.

I have no idea if you meant this as a prompt or not, but headcanon accepted. Thank you @yeats-nana​ for looking this over <3

Okay, so he got a headstart with Dick’s friends, which is only natural, seeing how some of them were on his team for a while.

(“Always will be, Jaybird,” Roy says, and Jason only rolls his eyes a little.)

No one actually likes staying at the manor, so it made sense that they crash in his safehouse-warehouse-apartment-club thingie instead. It gets bad enough that he grudgingly converts three rooms into guest rooms and doubles up on his groceries, just in case.

He picks up Bart by accident. Something blurs past him, and he reaches out by habit, grabbing whoever it was by the arm and stopping them in their tracks. It’s a neat trick, even if it always makes him feel like his arm socket is getting chewed on by Krypto.  

Honestly, he expected Wally. But that’s a significantly less amount of human dangling from his hand. “The fuck?”

“Hey, you! Let Bart go!”

Oh, he’s seen that particular combo of bad boy looks and himbo vibes before. “You’re Drake’s clone boy, aren’t you?”

“He totally is,” the speedster still in his grasp—Bart—agrees equitably. “Hey, you’re Jason, right? Is that pizza you’re carrying? Can we come with and have some? Because I’m starving.”

Jason’s so flabbergasted that they know who he is and don’t immediately, like, try to kill him for what he did to the replacement (which—fair) that he completely forgets to object when they invite themselves in. And then call someone called Cassie to come over, but not bat-Cassie, which just makes things needlessly confusing.

Apparently, once the kids decide you’re the ‘cool brother’ (and Jason will never let Dick forget that), they never leave. Whenever it’s field-trip-to-Gotham time, or whatever they do when they’re here, they stay at his place. As a consequence, he sees a lot more of replacement—Tim, these days. The kid seems to think it’s the funniest thing that ever happened to him.  

It’s not bad. It’s not bad, at all.

(He could do without being asked for relationship advice by teenagers deep in the throes of puberty, though.)

Steph tags along one day and just never leaves. Jason has no idea what her deal is, but he likes having her around and is more than happy to have her study in his living room. At least someone in this family is taking education seriously.

And Jason thinks that’s it. It’s more than enough, honestly. Everyone is pretty good about leaving him be when he actually needs some privacy; it’s still a lot.

Until he finds a miserable looking Superboy, Version Two, curled up on a roof.

Jason takes a second to put his guns away and double-check his hands for blood. Then he approaches cautiously. “Hey, Jon, right?”

The boy startles. For a second, his eyes glow red before he visibly calms himself down. “Oh, hey, you’re Robin’s brother! “

Jason tries not to sigh. “Yeah, I guess. What’re you doing here?”

“I wanted to meet up with Dames, but he’s not back yet.”

It takes a moment for Jason to connect ‘Dames’ with the Robin who tried to stab him two days ago, and not in a playful way.

“You could wait for him at the manor,” he suggested.

Jon looks down. “I might fall asleep.

“And?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Uh.” The kid shuffles awkwardly in place. “Sometimes I get bad dreams, and when I wake up I don’t—”

Right. Superpowers.

“How about you stay over at my place?” Jason hears himself ask. “The rooms are Roy Harper-proof, you should be fine.”

Wide blue eyes stare at him in confusion.

“It means they can withstand anything you can throw at them.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, your brother stays over all the time, he tried to break them before. You can text him if you want to.”

But Jon perks up. “Oh, if Kon stays there, it should be fine! Thank you!”

(Jason plans to have a talk with Jon about that in the morning. Really, he gets that the kid is superpowered and doesn’t have to fear much, but you should not go home with a stranger! What if Jason was more of a villain?)

By the time Jason gets them home and shows Jon his room for the night, the kid is already half-asleep. Man, was he ever that young?

“Dames might stop by later,” he tells Jason, just before falling face-first into bed. His next words are distorted by the pillow, but still audible. “It’s okay when he’s there, you know. It never gets bad then.”

Christ. “Okay. Good night.”

He texts Dick to let him know what happened, and as soon as he gets the number from his, Lois. Because Superman is off-planet right now, but he is not the terrifying one in that marriage.

(Little does he know it’s the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Lois is not one to let contacts with knowledge about organized crime go to waste.)

So really, this is it. Roy and Kori drop by frequently, Tim’s gang less so, and Jon likes to drag Damian along for visits. Steph has started paying rent. (Jason doesn’t have the heart to tell her he’s his own landlord because the old one was exploiting minors and had to be dealt with.) He’s cooking for three or more people most weekends, which is as he likes it.

And then, one sunny afternoon, the doorbell rings.

Jason frowns, because—no one really does that anymore. So he’s cautious all the way down the stairs, opening the door in person, just to find a slightly awkward looking Duke Thomas standing there, clutching a backpack.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

Duke draws himself up. “Stephanie said you’re good at tutoring and I—I might need some help. To keep my grades up.”

And fuck, it’s not like Jason can say no to that. As far as he knows, Duke is a straight-A student.

He steps to the side and lets his brother inside. “C’mon in, then. I was just preparing lunch. Hope you like alambres.”

[something-very-special]

Call Her Back

Probably already a post with this title from the Let’s Play but it’s appropriate.

Thoughts on Replicant up to Ending A (and change):

This game is pretty. I guess it didn’t really hit me because I’ve always thought that the original NIER was pretty, but this game can be very pretty.

This in particular just kind of struck me as I was going across the Northern Plains. It had been dominantly gray, overcast skies up to that point because Part II of the game is meant to be. You know. Bleak. But I walked out onto a bright, sunny day with an expanse of blues skies, the mountains in the backgrounds, the ivy a burst of green growing up the rusted sides of the train tracks and it just kind of hit me that the game can be very pretty.

(Then I got punched out by a Shade.)

It’s definitely not a matter of massive graphical overhaul. The models look much better (getting a good look at the Twins during the finale, they really are beautiful) and I’m sure the environmental poly count is much higher and just overall smoother, and there are little touches here and there and just the capacity for better atmospheric lighting... I mean it all helps. But NIER is a game that’s always had fantastic art direction, making the most out of its budget through atmospheric tuning. There’s something uniquely beautiful about its muted palette and the way it uses its spaces that elevates it beyond the its actual technical limitations. It doesn’t look like an end-of-generation PS4 game, but that’s not an insult; it looks very much like itself from ten years ago, with its solid art direction, but touched up where it matters.

Does the sidequest grind seem... better...? I haven’t really dug into the BEST part of the game (spending 30 hours grinding out weapon upgrades) but I mentioned before my theory about how the sidequest grind is supposed to be carried out across multiple playthroughs and that’s why it sucks. To my surprise I finished Ending A missing only one sidequest (your friend and mine, Life in the Sands), with all of the other ones being more or less... pretty natural? The only thing I really needed to go out of my way for was Memory Alloy but all the other components didn’t really give me the kind of grief I remember from my playthroughs of the original. ‘Grief’ of course being relative to getting the platinum trophy, but my first time through the game I gave up finishing a few outstanding sidequests (specifically, fixing the lighthouse broke me-- I could not find 10 Mysterious Switches!)

Maybe I just got lucky, especially with the Machine Oils. Maybe some weird muscle memory kicked in. I feel like there were a few purchasing options that weren’t open originally, too, to ameliorate some of the grind, but it might also be a case of those options being cost-prohibitive so I just didn’t really acknowledge them... whatever the case the sidequest grind felt overall pretty painless. I dunno!

I really need to know how to manipulate events. For literally seven playthroughs straight of the latter half of the game I always did the keystone quest as Junk Heap (start) - Forest of Myth - Junk Heap (end) - Facade - Aerie. It wasn’t until I did a run with my college roommates and Popola gave me the Aerie letter before the Facade in invite that I realized the Aerie wasn’t actually programmed to be the last event.

Absolutely blew my mind, and ever since I became aware of it, it feels like the game goes out of its way to make sure the Aerie always comes before Facade. When I did my Let’s Play of NIER I kept a save file from the start of the kystone collection so I could re-do the events in case they went ‘out of order’ (according to my headcanon)... which they did. I replayed the latter half of the game again in order to get things the way I wanted them to be, same order, and fortunately it cooperated the second time, but I still don’t understand what the trigger is, if there’s a way to manipulate it, or when the determination is even made.

And then they throw the Little Mermaid into the mix, which I wasn’t expecting (that is, I knew it was added, but I’ve been mostly avoiding spoilers -- and happily, the changes have largely been a delight, I’m so excited for the subsequent playthroughs -- but the way it was posted about made it seem like it would happen after and apart from the keystone quest. Not so, my friends).

The reason for this is just the emotional escalation of each factor of the quest. The Forest of Myth is weird and little else (at this juncture, of course). The Junk Heap is a personal tragedy, but the actual tragedy has already occurred and you’re just experiencing the fallout. Facade is a powerful and personal tragedy that deserves to be experienced later on. The Aerie is a terrible place and nobody misses it it’s an enormous loss and profoundly traumatic for the party, and it feels like the appropriate apex to basically force them to go to the Castle and finish the fight, having already lost far too much.

Also it’s just super weird to me that they see that devastation, they literally wipe an entire settlement off the map, and then the next day everybody’s super excited to go to a wedding.

It also becomes even weirder that you go to Popola post-Aerie and nobody mentions ‘yeah that didn’t go so well’ but coming out of Seafront they have a legitimate conversation about the loss of the ferryman and the people they’re never getting back. I guess that guy had a personality but I still think maybe somebody should mention the smoking crater where people used to be.

Then again it’s legitimately funny to me how basically everybody is just agreed the world is better off without it.

This might also just be an issue of familiarity. Maybe if I’d always ended on Facade, or actually known that they could be swapped out as they are, it wouldn’t feel so weird. I definitely got used to the pacing with the Aerie at the end and I feel like I got into a debate with somebody about how it’s more appropriate for Facade to come last so this might just be a personal thing. But it’s still a personal thing and I’m still vaguely irritated I can’t figure out how it works.

Anyway I blew up the Aerie So that’s that problem taken care of.

I feel like the ambiance surrounding Wendy was a little creepier this time. I swear I heard that good stock creepy child laughter in the background.

Then the ferryman left This was a nice bit of foreshadowing; following the Aerie events I wanted to hop over to Seafront to take care of an extant sidequest only to find the ferry dock in the Northern Plains empty. I thought that maybe this was just a weird way of railroading you to make sure you went through the Village first, even though there were no scenes that would trigger just by being in the Village.

Alas.

Not gonna lie, when the couple was first introduced I thought for SURE it was going to be the wife who wound up dead. I guess it’s because the guy had a purpose as an NPC so yeah, I was tricked. Good design decision; the ferryman is talkative and bright and definitely difficult to forget and even though he was kinda obnoxious there’s a definite void where his dialogue was. It’s clever too that you’re forced to use the ferry at least once so you can’t escape the dialogue that you’re presented with, meaning that even if you don’t really make use of the ferry you’ll always have that contrast between him at the start of Part II and the other guy (his brother, maybe?) taking over the job and just not really talking to you afterward.

Episode Mermaid First of all, to be clear, I’ve not done the Route B playthrough yet. All I know about the Little Mermaid is what’s presented on the surface, what can be gleaned from there, what I remember reading in the Grimoire NieR short story. This is very much just an impression and reaction to the first encounter and it’s pretty cool.

I like that they managed to go into yet another genre style aping a point-and-click adventure.

I like the atmosphere of the wrecked ship. It really brought me back to the ‘ghost ship’ level archetype with its little hints of spookiness.

I appreciate that it ties subtly in to the Haunted Manor (technically the Part I Seafront dungeon) with Weiss’ utterly irrational fear of ghosts.

I love every excuse they find to get Kaine and Emil (and especially Kaine) out of a situation. It’s almost a running gag that Kaine keeps getting knocked out of dungeons and boss fights. None of them are quite as great as her getting Rules Lawyer’d in the Barren Temple, but there’s something delightful about “Let’s get you some fresh air, we’ll be right outside, be careful!” and then bookending it with Kaine and Emil just chilling at the end like “Well yeah there are a lot of holes in the hull we just popped in.”

(I forgot to go backward to see what happens if you try to take them into Seafront proper, gotta remember that next time.)

Interesting thing when you find some of the dropped apples is that Nier and Weiss talk about the dinner they had with the couple. This was actually a really sweet and oddly emotional conclusion to the added sidequest between the bickering couple-- entirely missable. I would assume the dialogue just doesn’t trigger if you didn’t do the quest but it was a nice touch.

I appreciate the use of dead bodies in the hold.

(That’s a sentence.)

But for the game’s focus on violence and excess of blood it’s very selective in how it uses actual corpses. Any time you see a dead body it really emphasizes the seriousness of the situation. The corpses in the hold and the blood spatter -- especially compared to how bright and clean Seafront as a whole is -- was surprisingly effective. Again, just good atmospheric buildup.

Bit of an anticlimax as a boss, though. It is a really cool boss, between the environmental buildup to the fight and then actually unveiling her, but for how big and scary she is the fight itself went by fairly quick, and the actual finale (the postman whacking her hand telling her to go away she’s groooooss) felt a bit weird in comparison to the way the boss fights in the rest of the game usually play out. Of course, I don’t have context of her dialogue (I can take my guesses, her holding out her hand to Hans as he freaks out and attacks her is already a palpable tragedy) and by the way the scene was framed I suspect the Route B reveal is where the most important part of the scenario lies.

And the seals came back! It’s the little things.

“I wish I was Fyra.” So in the original Replicant the conversation between Emil and Nier before Sech’s wedding was apparently an implication that Emil had a crush on Nier and wanted to marry him. It was ambiguous enough that people had to ask for clarification and some players interpreted it as a weird, childish expression of looking up to and respecting Brother Nier. It was clarified in the Grimoire NieR that Emil is gay and crushing hard on Brother Nier, and this line of dialogue here seems to have been... not made explicit, but changed even between RepliCant and ver. 1.22 to make the implication a little clearer, at least insofar as he isn’t interested in girls. (It winds up missing the implication that he’s into Nier specifically, though.)

...which is funny, because it colors his introduction to the King of Facade somewhat differently. These two meeting is honestly really sweet on a few levels (Sechs recognizing him from Nier’s descriptions, which implies that Nier’s been visiting Sechs regularly and so proud of his interactions with Emil he told the king of another nation all about him, and the King is legit excited to meet him) but then a couple of minutes later Emil is all ‘I’m so jealous of Fyra’. He isn’t crushing on Nier, but he is totally crushing on Sechs.

Endgame At this point in the game the distinction between Brother and Father has become mostly lost and the final charge is pretty much the same as

wait what’s up with the music in the Lost Shrine? This is Snow in Summer.

Or an arrangement thereof. That particular track level from Snow in Summer winds up getting used in a few new places and it has this kind of weird, vague sense of dread that makes it work pretty well. Utterly threw me off in the Lost Shrine, though (I think it’s appropriate given its connection to the Shadowlord/Gestalt Nier so slowly re-introducing it in the climb is pretty cool). It also builds insanely as you climb, which is a very cool effect but, um, I’m just here to pick up some sidequest items right now this feels like a little much.

There isn’t much to say regarding any impact or differences in the large part of this area of the game. It’s a good final dungeon, it carries good momentum, it works as well as it ever did (that is to say, rather well). The emotional beats are great and translate equally well between the protagonists, although I have to give the nod to Papa Nier during a lot of this just for the imagery of such a big, powerful man becoming so broken the further he goes in (and Kaine being strong enough to toss him around like a rag doll anyway).

The final flashback with Nier and Yonah also feels better with Papa Nier. I always read it as, of course, Papa Nier having his moment with Yonah, giving her the flower, and as he lays back down Yonah does the same big sigh like she’s trying to emulate her dad and it’s really sweet. This is another one of those moments where it’s not something that feels wrong in Replicant, but just having that comparison in the back of my head is something that I just can’t help.

Is Papa Nier still Best Neir? Yes.

But there’s room in my heart for Brother. I’m glad the bizarre marketing decision happened and both of these characters can exist.

...and then we reload the save. Okay, okay, so-- so here’s the thing-- I figured that’s a good place to conclude a session, right? Get to the ending, prepare for the next run. But I also know that Route B starts with Kaine’s unskippable novel segments. I’ve read them, of course, so I figure I’ll just reload into Route B so I can make a save after the novel sections, really get into the meat of Route B when I’m fresh.

So skim through those--

Beat up the Knave--

Skim through the rest--

Educated Warrior... didn’t pop...?--

Wait what’s this camera angle--

Why am I outs--

oh my god

oh my god

KAINE AND EMIL HAVING GIGGLY GIRL TALK AROUND THE CAMPFIRE OH MY GOD WHAT IS HAPPENING

THERE’S MORE.

THERE’S. MORE.

I legit short-circuited. Going in I knew they added the Little Mermaid. I knew they added Ending E. Those were things I suspected would be added and went out to specifically confirm; beyond that I’ve been keeping myself completely spoiler free.

I had no idea there was more. I had no idea this was happening.

I’m so excited.

And a goofy thought for the road

“I polished you with a special cloth, I poured warm water on you--”

“Wait, you poured water on me?”

/imagines Emil running blindfolded eight hours across the Southern Plains with an 8oz plastic water cup, getting to the library, splashing it on Kaine, waiting expectantly

/nothing happens

/walks dejectedly eight hours all the way back to the Manor

[snelbz]

Lost Time {18}

Summary: It’s been four years since Azriel ran away from Velaris and left behind everyone he ever loved  — including the girl left standing at the altar. Now, he’s back home, but can he try and pick up the broken pieces of his life, or has there been too much lost time?

@snelbz​ / @tacmc​ collab

Lost Time Masterlist

Fanfiction Masterlist

My Ask Box

Azriel sat in silence in Cassian’s living room, both he and Rhysand staring at him, unblinking. Azriel was doing nothing, just letting them take in the information as he slowly sipped his steaming cup of black coffee.

It was a pleasant morning, sunny and cloud-free, warm. Azriel was exhausted, though. He hadn’t slept a wink. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could think about was Ianthe and the texts she had sent, the words haunting him.

She was in town.

In his hometown.

And she wasn’t leaving him alone.

After he woke up that morning, he got Novan ready to go and brought him over to Cassian’s after Elain had left for work.

After his second cup of coffee, he had told his brothers the entire story of Ianthe, the parts they hadn’t already known, then confessed about her texts, and the fact that Elain knew absolutely nothing about it.

Which he both felt equally confident and guilty about.

“So, let me get this straight,” Cassian said, at last. “Your ex, who is a model, and a little bit of a stalker, is in town, and hasn’t stopped texting you since last night…and you haven’t mentioned any of this to Elain. Your wife.”

Azriel nodded, watching as Novan chased the kitten up the stairs.

“And this Ianthe also got into it with you when you were in New York getting your stuff,” Rhysand followed. “Which Elain also doesn’t know about.”

Azriel gave them both an exasperated, pointed look. “Obviously you have all the facts, alright? Now, what do I do? Elain’s pregnant, tired, and sick. I don’t want to tell her about it if it’s nothing, she has enough going on, but I can never tell with Ianthe, I never know what she’ll do. She’s not the type that exactly takes no for an answer.”

“Clearly,” Cassian muttered, reaching for his coffee, and Azriel glowered.

“No, no,” Rhys said, stopping Az from giving Cassian a smartass remark. “That’s his thinking voice.”

Azriel glanced at Rhys and then at Cass and found him still holding his coffee cup. They sat in silence for a moment, the only sound Novan’s feet chasing the small ball of fur through the house.

“Just the texts and calls so far?” He finally asked, looking up at Az. He nodded in confirmation. Cassian shrugged. “I can’t do anything until she makes a physical unwanted advance on you or Elain in Velaris. And back in New York, did anything…happen? Did you make her a promise or anything?”

“Like, the last time I saw her?” Az asked. “Or before that?”

He had to admit, Azriel didn’t like the way Cassian’s eyebrows rose at that question. “Let’s start with last time and then explain before that.” With a sigh, Azriel ran through that last night one more time, remembering the rage in Ianthe’s bright eyes well. “Okay,” Cass continued. “Now…before that?”

Azriel sighed and hung his head. “I may have told her on a few, drunk occasions that I thought marriage was a sham and that with enough persuasion, I’d …” He groaned and dragged his hands down his face.”I’d always be down for a quick ride.”

Both of his brothers stared at him, and then Cassian asked, quietly for the sake of little ears, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Azriel set down his mug before rubbing his temples. “Look, marriage wasn’t really my favorite topic throughout the years, alright? So, excuse me if in my miserable drunken state that I said bitter shit I didn’t mean.”

“That miserable shit is going to be what gets you in trouble,” Cassian said, staring his younger brother down. “You need to talk to Elain.”

Azriel scoffed. “And tell her that? No, I don’t think so.”

“Az,” Rhysand began, shaking his head, slowly. “I get the drunken shit, okay? But, that’s going to be what she uses to get her way.”

“I know, I know,” Azriel groaned.

“Ianthe seems like a piece of work,” Cassian said, leaning back and rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

A little head peeked over the railing of the banister and they heard “Uncle Cass?”

They all glanced up as Cassian asked “Yeah, buddy?”

“How do I get power rangers on the tv?”

“I’ll be right back,” he muttered, jogging up the stairs.

Azriel sighed and took a drink of his coffee. “I need something stronger than this.”

“Apparently you don’t,” Rhys mumbled, taking a sip of his own. He set the mug back on the side table beside him. “Especially if you make stupid, fucking promises when you’re drunk.”

Az glowered at him, not saying anything, just throwing his brother a vulgar gesture. He finally sighed and said, “Things were pretty bad for me for a while. Didn’t really feel anything. Just took pictures and lived my life. It’s probably why my shots were so good.” He laughed, but Rhysand could tell there was no humor in the sound. “I could only see and feel emotion through my camera lens. I was numb to my own, so I…captured other people’s. And just continued to ignore my own.”

It took Rhysand a moment to say anything else, but when he did, his voice was soft. “I get it. Try not to worry about it, yeah? Just…talk to Elain when she gets home so that she’s aware, and prepared, but don’t stress out about it until something happens. And hopefully nothing will happen.”

Azriel nibbled on his lip for a second before nodding. “No, yeah, you’re right.”

And yet, he felt a heavy sense of dread in the pit of his stomach as each word left his mouth.

* * * * * *

Working the day after she got married wasn't exactly how Elain had planned things, but things hadn’t exactly gone according to plan for most of her life.

Not that she was complaining, she loved her complicated life and wouldn’t trade it for anything.

She smiled at the couple who’d brought a family heirloom in, an old dresser that belonged to his grandmother. She hesitated before saying, “I can handle the refurbishment, but I’ll let you know now, my turn around is a little slower than it used to be.” She tucked a hand under her small bump and explained, “I’m a few days shy of three months pregnant, and my husband is looking for a well-ventilated workshop for me-.”

“It’s no rush,” the woman - Claire, she’d written on her order form - smiled, and looked up at her husband. “It’s actually for our baby’s nursery. I’m fourteen weeks.”

Elain’s smile was genuine as she said, “Congratulations! Okay, that gives me a little bit of time.”

After finishing up with the sweet couple and with some help, Elain had moved the dresser by the door to have Az load up and take home after work. Leaning against her desk, Elain stared at her reflection in one of the elegant full length mirrors that she’d salvaged from an old manor house and wrapped a hand under her belly again. She dialed Nesta’s number and waited as it rang.

“Hello?” Nesta asked.

“Do twins run in our family?” Elain asked, not even replying to her sister’s greeting.

“I- What?”

“Do we have the twin gene?” She asked again. “It’s not like we can trace Az back, so do you know if we have twins anywhere in our family?”

The other line was quiet for a suspicious amount of time. “Why?”

“Because I just had a customer who’s fourteen weeks pregnant, which is only a couple weeks farther than me, and I look drastically bigger than her.”

Nesta was quiet for a minute, then she said, “After Miryam and I were joking about it, I decided to do some digging into our family history. It turns out that Mom’s brothers are twins. They live down south, if I remember right. They and Mom never got along. I think the last time we saw them, you were just a baby-.”

“Nesta,” Elain interrupted, recalling she and Azriel’s previous conversation about twins. Elain had been joking, too, for the most part, then. They hadn’t been too close to their mother’s family, but she figured Nesta would have known. “What if I’m having twins?”

“What if you are?” Nesta repeated, and Elain rolled her eyes.

“If I am, Azriel will surely freak the hell out,” Elain mumbled, plopping down in an old wooden chair.

“Just means my baby gets two besties instead of one,” Nesta chuckled and Elain knew she was doing the exact same thing she was, rubbing soothing circles into her belly.

She smiled and changed the subject, asking, “When are you going to tell us what you’re having?”

The sigh that left Nesta would have made a soap star proud. “Whenever I find out, you’ll find out. Cassian is looking for the perfect gender reveal. He takes the damn envelope with him everywhere he goes because he knows I’ll look otherwise.”

Elain paused. “Has he looked? I can have Donovan ask, you know he’d tell-.”

“No, it’s still sealed,” she sighed. “I told him he has until next week to find something or I’m taking it to Viv’s bakery.”

The bell above the door jingled, alerting Elain of a new customer and she said, “I’ve got someone coming in, but let me know and I can drop it off on my way into work, okay?”

“Okay, I love you,” Nesta said, and Elain could hear her getting back up to go back to work as well. “Call Yrene. See if she can set up another scan. Find me another niece in there.”

Elain was laughing as she tried to see out of the back office. “And how do you know it’s a girl in the first place?”

“I have a hunch,” she replied, simply, then hung up.

With a roll of her eyes, and a small smile, Elain was up on her feet.

There was a tall, slender woman with long, blonde hair and some of the most beautiful eyes Elain had ever seen. She was eyeing an old, vintage floor length mirror that Elain had already refinished. She had been hoping that no one bought it because she was so in love with it that she wanted it in the corner of her bedroom.

“Hi,” Elain said, once she had approached, her smile bright. “Can I help you with anything?”

The woman met Elain’s eye with a smile. “Yes, actually. I’m looking for a gift.”

“I can certainly help with that,” she smiled. “Are we looking for something in particular?”

The woman glanced around the store. “Not really. It’s- it’s sort of complicated.”

“Okay,” Elain said, confused by the hesitation in the girl’s words. “Who’s it for?”

“The love of my life.” There was no hesitation this time and Elain smiled at her. “He’s an old soul. And I just got into town, I don’t know the area. So I just…ended up here.”

She nodded, knowing she hadn’t seen the beauty around before. It was a small town. “Who is he?” She saw the hesitation on her face and realized that just because she was in a small town, she might not be used to how nosy small town folks could be. “I’m sorry, that was rude. Follow me,” Elain said, blushing.

She led her over to an old workbench she’d finished the week before. She’d been debating on taking it home for Azriel to store his spare lenses and bodies for his cameras.

“Oh, this is beautiful,” the woman said, and then she blushed. “I have an odd request.”

Elain blinked. “Okay?”

“May I...sit on it?” She asked.

“Sit on it?” Elain repeated.

She cleared her throat. “Yes, I’d like to have some pictures taken with it.”

Elain blinked but said, “That shouldn’t be a problem. It’s quite sturdy.” The woman hopped up, pulling a foot up and planted it on the surface. Clearing her throat and looking away, Elain asked, “Are you a model?”

The woman’s eyes snapped to Elain’s. “Why?”

“You’re very pretty,” she laughed, meaning her words. “That and the pictures.”

“Ah,” the woman smiled. “Yes, I am. And thank you, that’s kind of you to say. You’re very pretty, too.”

Elain’s cheeks turned pink. “Thank you.”

“You’re pregnant, I see?” she asked, glancing down at Elain’s hand that rested on her stomach.

“I am,” Elain said, nodding.

“Congrats,” she said, her smile radiant. “And the father? He loves you?”

Elain’s heart softened. “Very much so. He’s….well, he’s my soulmate.”

“Soulmate,” the woman repeated. “I want to know what that’s like.” She looked back down at the bench. After a moment, she fished her phone out of her leather satchel and held it out to Elain. “A picture? Would you mind?”

“Of course not,” Elain said, taking the phone from the model’s hand and snapping a few pictures as she posed. Elain nearly felt awkward. It wasn’t everyday that she photographed models on her refinished antique furniture.

Azriel would get a kick out of it when she told him after work.

The girl hopped down and took her phone from Elain’s outstretched hand. She looked down at her phone, smiling and approving of the pictures. “Thank you, do you mind if I look around for a minute? Everything is so beautiful.”

“Of course not, please,” Elain said, smiling. She gestured towards the back of the store. “I’ll be in my office, but my name is Elain. Just holler if you need me.”

The girl smiled, slipping her phone back in her pocket and said nothing else. Something in her gaze though, it suddenly unnerved Elain and she turned and was nearly back to her office when she heard, “Thank you, Elain.”

A moment later, Elain heard the bell above the door announce her exit.

* * * * * *

Azriel had just dropped Novan off with Miryam. She was going to bring him to the zoo for a grandparent’s day, which Azriel was pretty bitter that he couldn’t go with.

It’s a Meme/Novan thing, Miryam had explained.

Azriel wasn’t going to argue by saying how much he loved seeing the giraffes.

Even though it was true.

He thought he’d try to scope out some landmarks, though, see what he could photograph in the little town of Velaris, before he went home and edited some stuff he had to send in.

But then, his phone chimed.

It was Ianthe, of course, but that wasn’t what had him slamming on his brakes.

Ianthe was sitting on an antique bench that had been refinished in a shop that Azriel knew all too well.

After pulling a very dangerous u-turn, resulting in a vulgar gesture from the minivan he’d accidentally cut off, he turned around and sped back into town, toward Elain’s shop. He cursed every time he got stopped at a redlight, which was far too often.

He didn’t see any cars in the small lot and knew that Elain parked in the back, but it didn’t stop him from pulling crookedly into the first spot he reached and rushing inside. Azriel hurried straight to Elain’s office and found her sitting at her desk, a forkful of salad in her mouth. Her eyes were wide in surprise, a bit of green hanging between her lips.

“Are you okay?” Azriel asked, breathless.

Elain’s eyebrows raised and she covered her mouth as she chewed, her other hand instinctively covering her stomach. “Yes? I mean, I think so,” she said, once she had chewed and swallowed her lunch. “What are you doing here, baby?”

Azriel glanced over his shoulder and saw that no one was in the shop. He hurried back to the door, flipping the open sign to closed, and locked the door.

“What are you doing?” She asked, voice slightly panicked as she left the back office.

He didn’t answer, just walked towards her and rested his hands on her hips, one of his thumbs gently brushing over her belly. “We need to talk.”

Elain blinked, staring at him as if he had gone mad. “Okay…”

“There was a woman in here today,” he began, trying to slow his words, realizing how panicked he sounded. “Blonde, tall-.”

“What, the model?” she asked.

So they had a conversation, Azriel thought, as he closed his eyes and sighed. “Yes. She’s… She’s my ex, El. She’s here from New York, and I don’t know why.”

Elain continued to stare at him for a minute, trying to register his confession. “What?”

“She’s my ex. The…one I had been with, after you.” His words were soft, ashamed. “She…texted me last night, saying she was in town.”

Elain was blinking, shaking her head, trying to process what he was telling her. “How do you even—. She said she was here to—.” Her eyes widened and she smacked him in the chest. “Oh, my god, those pictures were for you!”

He raised his hands in surrender, but could tell she wasn’t angry with him, thank the Cauldron, just taken off guard. “Apparently, so. But I didn’t ask for them.” He took her hands in his, turning her wedding band over as he spoke. “This is what I said I wanted to talk about earlier.”

Elain’s eyes slipped closed and she nodded, recalling his text from that morning. Reopening her eyes, she said, “I understand why you wanted to have this talk in person now.”

He smiled, but she could tell he was worried. “And until Donovan was in bed.”

She nodded and wrapped her arms around him. “Why didn’t you tell me last night?”

Azriel looked away from her, at the floor, at his shoes. At first, he didn’t know what to say. There was no real excuse, no real reason to keep something from his wife. “I was ashamed. Embarrassed. Lainy, the years we spent apart… I’m not proud of them, you know? A lot went on, and I hate it all. Unfortunately, Ianthe was a part of that time we spent apart, and now it’s coming back to haunt me.”

Elain nodded, although she nibbled on her lip.

“You’re thinking of something,” he whispered. “What are you thinking?”

“That my husband has some creepish girl that’s in love with him following him around,” she whispered, her words rushed. “And… I don’t know. She’s here. Around you. Me. Our son, our family, Azriel.”

“I know,” he said, shaking his head. “She won’t hurt us though, okay? She’s harmless.”

“Is that why you hurried here once you found out she came to the shop?” Elain asked, exasperated. He could see the fear in her eyes, how shaken this had her.

He was still shaking his head, but he dropped his forehead to hers. “I rushed here because I fucked up in not telling you last night and she’s manipulative enough to say something.”

Elain scoffed and said, “She’s got some pretty big balls if she came in here and had your wife take pictures to send to you.”

Azriel chuckled and said, “You’re right. But just—.” He sighed. “Promise me you’ll be careful, okay? Keep an eye on your surroundings.” As her eyes widened, he added, “I don’t think she would do anything, but I’m going to worry until she leaves town. I can keep Novan with me, I can keep an eye on him. But you two,” his eyes softened as he gently caressed her belly. “I can’t always be with you. And I need both of you safe.”

Elain’s eyes lined with silver and she said, “I love you. It doesn’t matter that she’s here. What matters is that we have each other.”

“Exactly,” he breathed, leaning down to kiss her softly. He leaned back and gazed down at her. “Gods, you’re beautiful. Didn’t you say there was something you needed to talk to me about, too?”

Elain was beaming up at him, but she blinked, registering what he’d said. “Yes, sorry. You distracted me and made me cry.”

With a chuckle, Azriel kissed her forehead and walked them back to her office. He sat down in her chair, and pulled her into his lap. “Here, eat and talk. I’m not turning that sign back around until you’ve eaten and are full.”

With an eyebrow raised, Elain asked, “Of your cock?”

Azriel choked on air and when he glanced at her, he found her cheeks red. “I know what’s on your mind today. I’ll remember that later,” he said, squeezing her ass softly. “Now what were you going to talk to me about?”

Elain could feel how hard he’d become, but she did as she was told and resumed her lunch. Before taking a bite, she said, “I’m going back to see Yrene tomorrow at nine.”

Azriel tensed. “Why?”

Elain shrugged. “Just another ultrasound.”

Azriel nodded. “Should I go with you?”

“You can, if you want,” she said, softly. “But, it’s just to be sure…”

There was a moment of silence before Azriel asked, “Sure of?”

“To be sure of how many babies are in here,” Elain said, quietly, holding onto her stomach.

Azriel stared at her, blinking. “You really think it’s twins? I thought you were joking.”

“I feel like I’m so much bigger than I should be, Az,” she breathed. “I’m not saying it’s for sure, but… It’s a possibility.”

Azriel took a deep breath and nodded. “And, if it is twins?”

Elain looked up at him. “If it is?”

Azriel laughed, quietly. “Elain, any child I can have with you is a blessing,” he whispered. “One baby, two, three… I just want to grow our family.”

Elain’s eyes were tearing up. “Three though? That’s a little much.”

Azriel chuckled. “I’m just saying… However many babies are in there, Lainy, I’m going to be so grateful.” She started to cry again, but ate her salad, and Azriel laughed. He kissed her shoulder and said, “I love you, you emotional, basket case.”

She stabbed another bite and muttered, “I love you, too.”

* * * * * *

The scene was so sweet, that even from the coffee shop in the square, Ianthe could see the couple lovingly embrace, and her pale eyebrow arched.

She hadn’t lied earlier, Azriel’s wife was very pretty. She was also very much pregnant. She hadn’t expected that. But she hadn’t thought that Azriel was serious when he’d said he’d had a son, until she took to social media and discovered she was blocked on every platform she had. After creating bogus account after bogus account, he finally accepted one of her follow requests and she came face to face with a picture of a little boy, who was the spitting image of him all over his personal Instagram, his Facebook, everything.

So he apparently had another on the way, it changed nothing. She came here for one reason and that was to bring Azriel back home. Clearly, he had no issue leaving who ever this Elain was while she was pregnant once before. She’d just have to convince him to do it again. Her lips curved upwards slightly as she took a drink from the white mug.

Azriel kissed his wife, softly, as they snuggled into his chair as she sipped her coffee.

He had confessed to her years ago that marriage meant little to nothing to him. In fact, he had proven his devotion to Ianthe over and over again throughout the years. Late at night, early in the morning, between shoots. They had seen each other naked too many times throughout the years for him to just disappear without a trace, saying he was married with kids.

It was bullshit.

Where did this woman even come from? Azriel had said very little about his past through the years, about the women he had dated before. All she knew was that he hadn’t seen anyone, at least not seriously, throughout the time she’d known him. Then, he comes home for a funeral, is gone for hardly any time at all, and comes back to New York, rejects her, and has a wife, a kid, and another on the way?

Something didn’t seem right.

She had come here for a job, that much was true. The modeling shoot had lasted less than a day and when the agency asked when to book her flight back, she told them she’d pay for her own flight, as she didn’t intend to return yet.

Because she wouldn’t be returning alone.

[roman-writing]

no great revelation (4/8)

Fandom(s): The Haunting of Bly Manor / Star Wars

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: T

Wordcount: 7,057

Summary: Jamie  just wants to enjoy a drink after a hard day’s work on the Telosian  Restoration Project. The last thing she needs is to get herself  caught  up in a mysterious woman with a lightsabre at the local bar.

Aurthor’s notes: Please don’t expect anything from this story. I’m just doodling in between writing ch11 and ch12 of ‘bring home a haunting.’

read it below or read it here on AO3

IV:

—

“I owe you a favour?” Rebecca said, and her voice sounded amused. “Is that how we’re remembering it?”

“Yup. After that fiasco you put me through in that club on Nar Shaddaa.”

The sound of an incredulous huff of laughter came through the cracked speakers of the transceiver in a staticky burst. “What is it this time?”

“Nothing special,” said Jamie. “In fact, it’s even a little boring.”

“You? Boring?” 

“I like boring.”

“Pull the other one.”

“More boring than last time, then.” 

“Last time you had me move three hundred freed Twi’lek slaves from Hutt space and back to their home planets.”

“And they’ve been singing your praises ever since. I know that for a fact, because one family sent me a holo-card which showed that party you went to where they made you godmother of their newborn child.” 

“Oh! That reminds me,” Rebecca said, sounding suddenly excited. “Do you want to see the latest pictures of the kid? He’s four and adorable.” 

“That had better be a rhetorical question,” Jamie drawled.

“So, that’s a no?”

“Shut up and send me the pictures to my personal transceiver when I see you.” 

Rebecca’s laugh was infectious. Always had been. A smile pulled at the corner of Jamie’s mouth in spite of herself. The Jawas had crowded off to the other end of the tiny room, talking amongst themselves while Jamie used their transceiver. On the other hand Dani drifted closer, hovering just out of range of the transceiver’s camera, which — along with the microphone and speakers — seemed to be the only thing about it that actually functioned properly. 

“It’s been too long,” Rebecca was saying. “I’ve missed talking to you.”

“So, you’ll do me the favour?” 

“You know I hate moving people,” Rebecca sighed. “Pressurising the cargo hold is so expensive.”

“It’s for a good cause.”

“Always is with you.”

"It's not like that."

"Sure it isn't." Rebecca said, then groaned. "Why can't you ever ask me to run something normal? Like food? Or weapons?"

"I asked you to run those emergency rations to Taris that one time."

"The planet was being blockaded by the Empire!"

"And you snuck through like a ghost," Jamie said. "I've never seen anything like it in all my years."

"Flatterer."

"Fuckin' right I am. Is it working?"

A sigh down the other line. "All right. How many people is it this time?"

Jamie opened her mouth to answer, but before she could speak Dani came into frame and sat beside Jamie with a wave towards the camera.

"Hi," she said with as much false cheer as she could muster. "Just me. Dani Clayton. Nice to meet you."

Silence on the other end. Jamie really wished this piece of crap transceiver had a working screen of its own so she could gauge Rebecca's reaction. As it was: the silence didn't seem like a good start.

“I see,” Rebecca said slowly. “Jamie, you always did have a soft spot for a pretty face.”

Heat flushed all the way up to Jamie’s hairline. “That’s not -!” she said, then turned to Dani and insisted, “It’s not.”

Dani did not answer. Her own cheeks were pink and she was studiously avoiding Jamie’s gaze, watching the broken monitor instead where Rebecca’s face should have been displayed. 

Rebecca — damn her — was the one who spoke next. "And where are you from, Dani?"

"Alderaan," Dani said at the same time Jamie hissed, "Don't answer that."

Dani shot Jamie a puzzled look and lowered her voice, “I thought you two were friends.”

“We are, but -” 

“No whispering,” said Rebecca through the crackling speakers in a sing-song voice. “If you’re talking about me, at least let me hear the juicy gossip.”

Rather than continue down that vein, Jamie corrected course. “We need to get to Tython. We’re on a transport through the Hydian Way to Coruscant, but we’ve got some undesirables on our tail. Think you can help?”

Rebecca gave a thoughtful hum. “You know I’m not a Core World girl. Not my speciality.” 

“I wouldn’t ask you if I wasn’t desperate.” 

“Next time,” Rebecca said in a dry tone, “just call me for drinks and a laugh.” 

“First round’s on me,” Jamie promised with a grin. 

The sound of tapping down the line and a series of beeps as Rebecca did something with her ship’s computer. “I’m picking up your signal from hyperspace just past Bandomeer. I won’t be able to meet up with your transport until you come out of hyperspace for a stop over at Corsin tomorrow afternoon. Think you can survive that long?” 

Leaning back, Jamie exhaled a long relieved breath, her shoulders slumping. “It’ll have to do. Thanks, Becs. You’re a lifesaver.”

“I know.”

And just like that, the call ended. No fanfare. No goodbyes. That’s how it always was with her — touch and go. Probably why the two of them got along so well, Jamie thought. Not many people could go without exchanging a single word for four years and then pick up where they’d left off as if no time had passed at all. 

Jamie pushed the transceiver away. Dani was watching her with a curious tilt of her head so that a lock of her hair was curled along the column of her neck in a way that made Jamie want to reach out and card her fingers through her hair. 

“She seems nice,” Dani said.

“It’s complicated.”

Understanding lit up in Dani’s mismatched eyes. “Ah.” 

“Not like that,” Jamie said quickly. “We never - I just meant that she’s complicated. For a smuggler like Rebecca, trust is its own currency. And now I owe her a very big favour.” 

Dani nodded but didn’t comment further. She had turned her attention back to the huddle of Jawas, listening to them quibble and murmur together. “As much as I like them,” she said, “I don’t think we can hide here for a full day without imposing.”

That and Jamie could not imagine trying to sleep in a pile with a bunch of Jawas. She made a face at the very thought. It was cramped with two people in one of these rooms. Let alone eleven. Even if the other nine were less than a meter in height and smelled of damp womprat. 

“Please tell me the alternative doesn’t involve the garbage chute,” Dani said. 

 --

The alternative only partially involved the garbage chute. And even then, they only had to use it once to ferry their way up to the mid decks when their transport dropped out of hyperspace and docked at Corsin. Jamie kept checking over her shoulder for sign of the Jedi and the Troopers as she and Dani snuck off the transport with a crowd of others. She did not relax even as they stepped free of the transport and into the hangar bays of Corsin.

The arched transparisteel ceiling was a void of star-speckled ink viewing out into space, and far below the planet was a marble of blue oceans and green islands, white tufts of cloud drifting across its surface. 

“It looks beautiful,” said Dani, pausing to wistfully admire the planet below. 

“It looks unaffordable,” Jamie replied, not sparing it a glance and instead standing up on her toes, craning her neck to get a better look around the hangar. 

“Reminds me of Alderaan.” 

It was said almost softly enough that Jamie couldn’t hear it. Jamie stopped her search and turned back to Dani, who was still staring longingly out the windows. Hesitating for a second, Jamie curled her fingers around Dani’s hand. Startled, Dani blinked at her.

Jamie offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “C’mon,” she said, and gave Dani’s hand a tug. 

Dani did not pull her hand away as Jamie pulled her along further into the hangar in search of their ticket out of this mess. She linked their fingers together and held on tight, her hand cold; Dani was always cold. Jamie needed to think about buying her a set of thermals. 

Pushing through the crowd, they made their way from various bay to various bay. Other passengers who knew their destinations went straight to the cruiser that would ferry them down to the planet below. Most of them wore enough Ottegan silk to last Jamie a year if she sold it on the black market, no questions asked. This was not a planet for people like them, and a few security droids around the place had started to take notice of that fact. Jamie was constructing an elaborate lie in her head about how they were janitorial staff, when she finally saw her. 

Rebecca was standing before a side bay with her hand resting easily on the holster of her blaster pistol. She looked just as Jamie remembered. All in smart and durable beige and black, the cut of her clothes fashionable in a rakish sort of way but unafraid of hard labour. Her dark hair was longer and was bound in a long plait over one shoulder. And her dark skin was slightly darker, too — she must have been visiting a sunny planet lately. Letting go of Dani’s hand and striding forward with a broad smile, Jamie caught her in a fierce warm hug.

“God, but it’s good to see you again,” Jamie said. 

Only one of Rebecca’s hands came up to rest against Jamie’s back to return the hug. When she pulled back slightly her smile had an oddly sad slant, and she murmured, “I really am sorry for this, Jamie.” 

Jamie blinked, her face falling. “What -?” 

Before she could move, Rebecca’s other hand came up and pressed something to Jamie’s flank. A flash of something like fire rippled through Jamie’s body, and then she slumped forwards into Rebecca’s arms, the world spinning and going dark. 

 --

When Jamie came to, she had a splitting headache and her side felt like it had been kicked by a very large very angry animal. She winced and slowly sat up with a groan. Blinking muzzily, she took inventory of her surroundings. Just a small room sheathed in dark metal panels from floor to ceiling, complete with the only door blocked by yellow plasma beam bars, and a Czerka logo stamped into one of the panels on the hallway outside. 

And worst of all: no Dani in sight.

Great. Alone in the brig of a Czerka ship. And given her shit luck, Jamie had an inkling of exactly whose ship this belonged to as well. 

“Fuck,” she said, lingering emphatically over every aspect of the word. 

She had been placed along a bench in the cell, and now she dragged her sorry carcass into the corner so that she could prop her legs atop the bench and lean her head back against the wall. When the world finally stopped trying to tilt with every sluggish beat of her heart, Jamie patted herself down. 

No mining laser, of course. That would’ve been the first thing they stripped off of her. No credit chits in her pocket. No multitools that she always kept on her person in case she ever needed to disassemble some machinery at work. The dogtags were still around her neck at least. At least if she died, whoever found her would be able to identify her body and return it to Tython or wherever the fuck nobodies like her in The Order went after death. Small miracles. 

Nothing for it, then. She staggered upright and went to use the loo. When she’d finished, she returned to her place on the bench and thought about how fucked she was. 

She’d been in plenty of bad scrapes in her time, but this was taking the coveted position of ‘Worst Hole Ever Dug by Jamie Taylor — May the Force Be With Her.’

A door opened in the near distance, then another, followed by quick footsteps. Jamie frowned at the hallway, waiting for some Czerka pillock to come take her away and shove her out an airlock. Instead Rebecca came into swift view.

"Here," she said, sliding Jamie's handheld mining laser along the floor through the bars, then began trying to pry a section of the wall away from the hallway in order to reveal a nest of wires leading to the control panel. "I've disabled the alarms and cameras for the brig, but we don't have much time. There's a cruiser docked in bay three. It has a hyperdrive and enough rations to get you to wherever you need to go. The Czerka fleet won't fire upon it so long as you're quick and you don't let them figure out it's you."

Jamie did not move. Teeth clenched, she crossed her arms and glowered at the opposite wall. 

"Jamie -"

"Nope," Jamie said, jaw taut, refusing to even look in her direction.

"Listen to me," Rebecca gave up on hacking the control panel. She tried to move into Jamie's line of sight but Jamie kept turning her head aside. "There is more to this than what it appears. I know about the infiltration of House Thul. I know about the -"

"I don't care about what you know,” Jamie cut her off.  "If you think I'll listen to another word out of your mouth, then you've got another thing coming."

"I'm trying to make sure I can get you out of here alive, you thick-headed Rim-Rat!" Rebecca snapped.

“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place!”

With a bitter laugh, Rebecca leaned against the frame of the cell, careful to not touch the plasma beam bars. “That’s rich, knowing your history. I’ve never met a person who gets into more trouble than you.”

Jamie put on her best sneer and asked, "What's Quint got over you this time, then? Eh?"

Rebecca shook her head and looked away with an incredulous noise, hands on her hips. "It's not like that."

"Like hell it's not," Jamie growled. "All that time you spent outwitting the Empire, and now this? He is Imperial through and through."

"I know exactly what Peter is."

"Yeah. A piece of shit, who'd sell his mother if it means saving his own sorry hide." 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Rebecca said and her voice was low. She darted her eyes down the hall, as if watching for any potential eavesdroppers. “And you are in far deeper shit than you could possibly understand. That woman you’re with -”

Sitting up straighter, Jamie swung her legs over the side of the bench and onto the ground, suddenly alert. “Where is she?” 

Rebecca fixed her with a serious expression. Rather than answer, she said, “She’s dangerous.” 

“She’s scared,” Jamie corrected. 

“Which is quite possibly the worst thing for her to be.”

Rising to her feet, Jamie glowered through the plasma bars. Her voice was pure venom. “If you had just helped me get her to Tython, then I could’ve gotten her proper training.”

“The Order won’t take her.”

Jamie had to stop herself from striking out at the bars, even knowing they would give her burns all across her skin. “You know fuck all about The Order!” she snarled, pointing at Rebecca’s infuriatingly calm face through the bars. 

In the distance a door opened with a hiss of pressurized air. Both Jamie and Rebecca tensed and looked over in that direction. Or, well, Jamie tried to look but the view from the cell was pretty limited, all things considered. She'd had better views from the brigs of far less fancy ships than this.

Footsteps approached. Turning back, Rebecca lowered her voice and said in a rush, "Jamie, listen to me for once in your life. You are my friend, and I am going to get you out of this, but you have to do what I say."

Jamie shook her head. "No. Not without her."

Swearing fluently under her breath, Rebecca slammed the section of wall back into place to hide her attempted tampering. She’d only just managed to get everything in place and turn around, when no less than four Czerka guards in green and gold livery marched into sight. All of them were holding blaster rifles and were armoured to boot. They weren’t walking military-grade arsenals like the Republic Troopers from the transport, but they still weren’t people Jamie wanted to fuck with unless she had some serious firepower at her back. Hastily Jamie hid her mining laser in one of her bulky pockets, praying they wouldn’t pat her down. 

“You shouldn’t be down here,” one of them said to Rebecca. 

Rebecca pointed to a corner of the ceiling. “I noticed the cameras were down and came to investigate in case the prisoner managed to escape.” 

He narrowed his eyes at her, then stomped past her to key in a code into the control panel leading to Jamie’s cell. “Next time, alert one of us instead.” 

The plasma bars fizzed out of existence. The leader of this particular pillock squad made a sharp motion to the others, and two of them marched forward, grabbed Jamie by the shoulders, and hauled her upright. 

“Easy does it, lads,” Jamie grumbled. “Could’ve just asked.”

One of them clipped her on the back of the head with his gauntleted fist. “Quiet.” 

After they yanked her hands behind her back and clipped a set of handcuffs around her wrists, they marched her out of the cell. Jamie gave Rebecca the dirtiest glare she possibly could, and Rebecca just rolled her eyes in response, trailing after the group. Two sets of hands remained firm around Jamie’s upper arms as they walked, guiding her further into the depths of the ship. 

When they all crowded into an elevator together, doors sliding shut behind them, a cheerful cantina tune began to play. 

“So,” Jamie ventured. “Don’t suppose anyone’s got a light?” 

No answer. From the corner of her vision, Jamie could just make out Rebecca biting back an ill-timed smile in the back of the elevator. Or maybe she was trying to stop herself from screaming in frustration. Difficult to tell from this angle. 

“Just trying to be neighbourly,” Jamie grumbled.

“Shut up,” said one of the guards whose fingers dug into her arm. 

A light dinged, the music stopped, and the elevator doors opened with a hiss. Jamie couldn’t see beyond the massive frame of the two guards standing in front of her, but soon the four of them were flanking her as they all moved forward, leading her onto the bridge of what appeared to be Peter Quint’s flagship. 

Or at least, that was what Jamie assumed. And given that Peter Quint was standing at the head of the bridge, she reckoned she wasn’t too far off the mark. 

His hands were clasped behind his back and he faced away, looking out through the transparisteel windows at the sleek fore of the ship pointing into space, surrounded by a veritable fleet of other vessels that looked like they were on direct loan from the Empire. The long hems of Peter’s dark coat brushed his ankles, but he did not turn around or indeed take any notice of the new arrivals. In fact, he seemed engaged in deep conversation with someone whom Jamie could not see. The light glinted off one of his hands, the metal dark of his cybernetic limb dark. If Jamie hadn’t been looking for it, she might have mistaken it for a glove of some sort. 

The bridge split into three segments, the centre being command ending in a . Two of the guards veered off to the left, while another marched straight forward to address Peter. The last kept a firm hold of Jamie’s arm and hauled her off to the right, circling around while Rebecca trailed behind them, silent. As they went, Jamie got a better view of exactly who Peter was talking to, and she started.

“Dani -” 

The guard yanked at Jamie’s arm to keep her on course, and the three of them stopped at the head of the right wing, separated from command by a pit sunk into the floor, where engineers and pilots and God only knows who else toiled away pressing buttons or something. Jamie had no idea what was required to run a ship this size. Armed men, apparently, for that constituted the majority of people on the bridge. Guards at the doors. Guards at the helm. Guards along the walls.

Dani’s wrists weren’t bound with handcuffs, but she was kneeling on the ground as if she’d fallen there, and her cheek bore a bruise that was already starting to go purple. Her shoulders were hunched around her ears, and she was leaning away from Peter. When Jamie had spoken, Dani’s eyes flicked in her direction then widened. She opened her mouth as if to answer, but snapped it shut once more, wringing her hands together in her lap. She was not wearing the lightsabre anywhere on her person. 

Peter had tilted his head to listen to whatever report the guard was delivering to him. He nodded and the guard went away with a sharp salute. And then he turned to look at Jamie. 

“Jamie,” he said, “It’s been a minute.”

“Yeah, not nearly enough,” Jamie muttered. 

The guard cuffed her again. Not enough to bruise, but enough to sting. On the other side of her, Jamie saw Rebecca’s hand tighten into a fist. 

If Peter seemed at all troubled by this exchange, he did not show it. “You’ve led us on a bit of a merry chase, you know. Could’ve saved me the trouble and just let me have her back on Telos IV.” 

Nodding towards Dani, Jamie said, "Since when do you care about dead Jedi? Or bounties for that matter? You’re rolling in credits."

Peter let out a bark of laughter. "About - what?" He looked down at Dani, saw the stricken expression on her face, and then he smiled that sickly sweet smile of his. "Oh, I see."

Dani did not move. She did not speak.

When Peter continued speaking, it was not to Jamie. “No, it’s not credits I’m after. Or Jedi. But you know that. Don’t you, darling?” He crouched down before Dani, who shrank back from him. His voice was soft when he said, "You know what I want. Just give it back, love, and you can be on your way. I'll even give you your own personal escort back to Alderaan with enough credits to drown yourself in. How does that sound?"

Dani blinked up at him in surprise. Then her eyes darted in Jamie's direction.

Peter followed her gaze, and Jamie wanted to burn the smirk off his smug fucking face. "Ah, no," he said, turning back to Dani. "I'm afraid that one stays with me."

Dani licked at her lips and straightened her shoulders. "You let her go, or I won’t give it to you."

From this angle Jamie couldn't see the expression on Peter's face. His broad shoulders held a barely restrained tension, as though on the cusp of explosive movement. And when he spoke, even the gentle softness of his voice was a lie, "Very well. You have my word."

Don't, Jamie wanted to shout in warning. Don't do it.

Slowly, Dani reached into her cloak and unpicked a section of the lining, revealing a makeshift hidden pocket. She rummaged around then pulled something out and set it on the floor. Jamie strained to get a better look. Her captor kneed her roughly in the back for her trouble, and she would've gone face first into the ground if not for the hand in her hair yanking her back so that she remained upright.

It didn't stop her from catching a glimpse of what was being exchanged, however. Shards of metal, black gold. All in pieces, like a disassembled puzzle.

Peter was silent. He stared down at the pieces Dani had placed at his feet. Then in a smooth motion he stood, pushing himself upright to loom over her. 

"Do you think this is funny?" he asked in that too quiet, too dangerous tone.

Eyes wide, Dani shook her head. "No, I -"

Peter kicked the pieces away with a vicious swipe of his foot, and Dani flinched back with a startled cry. He darted forward and seized a handful of her cloak.

"Where is it?" he snarled.

"That's - That's all I have! The box fell apart after I touched it, I swear!"

Peter's hand tightened around the fabric, pulling up so that Dani was held slightly off the ground by the scruff of her neck, her feet scrambling for purchase on the metal flooring. "Box?" he repeated. "I'm not asking about a fucking toy box! Where is the holocron?"

"The -? The what?"

With a vicious curse, he threw her back onto the ground. Dani caught herself on her hands with a hiss of pain, and she flinched back when Peter began to circle her. 

"Don't play dumb," he said. "You know what I'm after."

"I don't -"

"You think I'm fucking blind? You think a piece of shit nobody from a backwater in Alderaan can kill a Jedi? You think you just woke up one day with powers?" He stalked around her, his expression a mask of fury. "You are nothing. You are nobody. You're not Force sensitive. You're a puppet. Just a piece of meat to house something greater, and you don't even fucking know it!"

The deck fell silent but for the beep of electronics, the rustle of fabric as pilots kept the ship on course. Jamie darted a look towards Rebecca, but her face was carefully blank and guarded, her thumb hooked through the belt of her blaster pistol in a way that Jamie knew meant she was actually nervous about something. None of which boded well.

“I was so close,” Peter was saying, and he didn’t even seem to be talking to Dani anymore. His words were a ranting mutter, wrathful and desperate. The metal of his robotic arm clicked in a menacing fashion every time he clenched his hand into a rhythmic fist. “This was it. This was my last run. The last deed I’d ever have to do for those evil cocksuckers on Dromund Kaas. Plant a holocron and be done with it. Be free of the Empire forever. Until you -”

His voice trailed off and his steps slowed to a halt. In the muddy light of the bridge, he was a faceless silhouette. He clenched his metal fist so tightly that it creaked and sparked. Dani shivered on the ground at his feet, her shoulders hunched, as though she were trying to make herself small enough to disappear. 

“You went snooping. You took something that didn’t belong to you. And I need it back. No matter the price.” In a swift movement, Peter crouched down on his haunches again. Dani flinched back, but Peter merely watched her for a long and uncomfortable moment before he continued, “So, what’s it going to be?”

From where she stood, Jamie could just make out the defiant set of Dani’s jaw. 

Sighing, Peter reached out and tucked a stray curl of hair behind Dani’s ear, while Dani sat, frozen in place. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t like hurting people,” he said. “Always the worst way of going about it. And, you know, it just doesn’t work as well as you’d think. So, tell me. What’s your price? Hmm? What do I have to do to get you to talk?” 

When again Dani did not answer, Peter withdrew his hand. “Normally I’m a patient man, but as we live and breathe, there’s a Dark Lord of the Sith coming our way. If you don’t deal with me, then you’ll be dealing with him. And I assure you: you want to be dealing with me instead.” 

Licking her lips, Dani said, “I already told you everything I know.” 

“Well, that is disappointing.”

Jamie tried to shift her feet slightly so she could get a better angle on the rest of the bridge, but the guard behind her kicked her in the back of the knee. When she went down with a grunt of pain, her knee slamming into the ground, the guard then yanked her back up by the handcuffs behind her with enough force she felt her arm sockets complain. 

“Get up,” the guard growled, and Jamie shot him a look that should have dropped him on the spot. 

The brief commotion drew Peter and Dani’s attention back in this direction. Peter pushed himself upright and turned, while Dani’s panicked gaze moved from him to Jamie and back again. 

“Or maybe I’m going about this the wrong way,” Peter murmured. He walked slowly across the bridge towards Jamie.  

“Even if I did know something, you and I both know I’d rather cut out my own tongue than tell you,” Jamie spat. The guard tightened his hold on her handcuffs, but she pinned him in place with a fierce glare and said, “Touch me again, and I’ll end you, mate.” 

Peter held up his hand before the guard could react. When Jamie faced him once more, Peter was close enough that she could see the thin scar on his cheek. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been the one to give it to him. She didn’t know where in his sordid past he’d gotten it. 

The corner of his mouth twitched in a smile that never touched his eyes. “Oh, Jamie. I never thought you actually knew something. You’re much too simple to get sensible answers before leaping to a lost cause.” 

In spite of herself, Jamie’s gaze darted to Dani who was watching their interaction with naked dread. 

Peter followed her gaze and grinned. “Aye,” he said. “That’s the one.” 

And without further ado, he drew his blaster pistol, pointed it at Jamie, and shot her. The smell of burnt flesh was an afterthought to the blinding pain that sent her vision white. Jamie staggered, keeling slowly over the charred wound low in her abdomen just above her hip. Something cold was pressed against her face, and it was with a blurred realisation that Jamie found herself lying on the floor. She blinked through the muzzy borders of her vision, trying to move and only managing to gurgle weakly. 

Right. Bad idea, that. 

At least blaster fire didn’t allow for my bleeding. Mass internal burn trauma, yes, but she wasn’t about to bleed out on the floor. Every breath was a sharp lance through Jamie’s stomach. She pushed herself into a crouch on all fours, registering the commotion around her as if experiencing it through water. 

“ - Don’t touch her! Don’t you dare -!” 

“Peter, killing her gets you nothing. You should -”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do, Becs! I won’t be taking orders ever again! Not from you, and especially not from the Empire!”

“Then get what you need, but Jamie doesn’t have it. And neither, it seems, does she.” 

Three sets of boots surrounded her. The guard beside her, and Rebecca standing between her and Peter. As Jamie tilted her head up, Peter started to stalk away. His footsteps were loud against the metal grating of the floor, and he dropped heavily into the captain’s chair at the head of the bridge. He had holstered his pistol and now he reached down to pick up something that had been propped up against the base of the chair. 

He pressed a button, and the lightsabre leapt to life. The blue light scattered across his face. “The holocron isn’t on Alderaan,” Peter said. “We did a very thorough check. Which means you -” he pointed the lightsabre at Dani, who was now standing at the centre of the bridge facing him, “- must have left it somewhere between there and Telos IV.” 

Dani’s expression was dark, her hands were trembling fists at her side. 

With a sigh, Peter sheathed the lightsabre and set it on the arm of his chair. He leaned back in his seat, crossing his legs so that his ankle was propped on his opposite knee. Addressing the guard beside Jamie, he said, “Rebecca’s right Jamie doesn’t know anything of use. Take her to the lower decks and throw her out the airlock.” 

The guard did not even say an affirmative. He simply hauled Jamie to her feet, and began dragging her back towards the exit despite Rebecca’s protests. 

“Leave her alone.” 

There was something wrong with Dani’s voice. An odd burr, a hard quality that did not suit her. She still had her gaze fixed upon Peter, but something in the way she spoke made every person in the room tense. The guard shoving Jamie along froze, looking back towards Peter for further instruction. 

There was an internal pressure building in Jamie’s chest, something like desperation, like the acrid aftertaste of gunmetal and blasterfire. All around them, the wall panels groaned. A few crumpled beneath the strain. Rupture of pipe and control panels, and with a screech of metal on metal all the lights on the bridge went out. Steam from the burst pipes billowed along the floor. Every guard in the room — even Jamie’s — raised their weapon towards Dani, glancing nervously around. Moments later, the emergency lighting flickered to life, illuminating the deck with a faint glow. 

Quint’s face was cast from below. Unlike the others, he had not moved, remaining slouched on his captain’s chair like a low-slung throne. He smiled at Dani. “Was that supposed to impress anyone?” 

Dani reached out her hand and the sabre that had been resting on the arm of Peter’s chair was in Dani’s grasp before Jamie could even blink, as though it had leapt into place there. With a press of her thumb, the blade extended, slicing a blue line through the gloom. The air was cold, so cold that Jamie could see her own breath misting in a cloud, and the icy fear that had twisted in her chest was a thing now slicked with darkness. A treachery of black ice beneath every step. 

She watched, handcuffed and helpless, as Dani gripped the sabre so tightly that her hands shook. One of Dani’s eyes gleamed gold and bright, unblinking, fixed upon Peter, and from the hilt a crimson light peeled down the length of the blade, a slow and burning bleed of kyber, until the sabre was completely engulfed in a light as red as a dying star. 

“Open fire,” Peter said, voice trembling, face pale, staring at her with wide eyes. He jabbed his finger in Dani’s direction and repeated in a shout to the room at large, “Open fucking fire!”

Over a dozen guardsmen sighted down their blaster rifles and began shooting. The lightsabre was a living thing in Dani’s hands. It moved in ways Jamie had only ever seen in training manuals, in the hands of Knights and Masters. No motion wasted. Every angle of the blade made with surety of purpose. 

Four guards were dead by their own reflected blaster fire before they could even manage to pull the trigger a second time. Dani reached out, and four others had their rifles ripped from their hands, the weapons warping into useless hunks of metal and cast aside. One of the guards stationed at the exit raced forward, pulling out a long knife that had been strapped to his thigh. Dani did not even pause in deflecting incoming blaster fire; she swept the lightsabre behind her, passing the hilt between her hands and bringing it back around. Half of the guard’s severed body went careening into the control pit, where the pilots and engineers cowered with hands over their heads. The other half skidded to a halt on the floor, dead weight. 

Jamie’s mouth hung open. Blaster fire continued to fly through the air in streaks of red. The guard who had been assigned to her was torn between trying to shoot Dani and trying to keep a hand on his charge. Then Rebecca stepped forward, pressed the muzzle of her pistol to the side of his head, and pulled the trigger. He crumpled into a heap on the ground, and Jamie swore loudly. 

Crouching down, Rebecca grabbed something off the guard’s body and used it to unlock Jamie’s handcuffs. “Don’t just stand there!” Rebecca yelled over the din, and she circled an arm around Jamie’s waist to help her along. “Let’s go!”

The two of them lurched towards the exit. A deflected shot struck the ground beside them, and they ducked down. Smoke and steam filled the air. The smell of blaster fire and burnt flesh was thick enough to make Jamie gag. Cursing under her breath all the while, Rebecca pulled Jamie to the exit, where a guardsman was sprawled, dead on the floor with a hole the size of a fist burnt through his chest. Rebecca had to let go of Jamie for a second to haul the guard closer so she could use his hand to unlock the biosecurity lock on the exit. The panel flashed green, and Rebecca dropped the guard in favour of Jamie again. 

The elevator was eleven floors down and slowly started to ascend. 

“Come on,” Rebecca was muttering under her breath to herself. “Come on, come on, come on -”

Behind them, the blaster fire dwindled to a halt. There was the sound of something heavy and wet falling to the ground. With a thrill of sickening fear gripping her stomach, Jamie turned and felt Rebecca do the same.

The walls were scarred and pitted. A shower of sparks fell from the ceiling where a wall panel had been shot loose. Through the haze of smoke, Jamie could make out the shape of bodies scattered across the floor, and at the very centre of it all Dani stood. 

Her back was to them. She faced the captain’s chair, the lightsabre burning red through the acrid smoke. For a moment it seemed Peter was standing to his feet, but then Jamie realised he was being lifted up. He grasped at his throat with both hands, heels lashing out at the air, making wordless strangled noises, gasping. Then his head snapped to one side with a sickening crack, and he went still. Dani looked up at him and with an almost lazy gesture, tossed him aside. His body slammed into a far wall and fell to the ground in a heap.

Jamie’s pulse skyrocketed when Dani turned around and looked at them. And when Dani started to stalk in their direction, adrenaline coursed through Jamie; every nerve in her body was screaming for her to flee, to hide in some small dark place until this danger had passed over the land like the shadow of night. 

Dani’s cold gaze fell upon Rebecca, and she raised the lightsabre once more. 

“Woah!” Maybe it was the adrenaline or maybe it was the pain doing funny things to her head, but Jamie leapt in front of Rebecca, hands trembling and lifted as though in surrender. “No, no! I mean, yeah, I’m also mad at her, but I don’t want her to die!” 

“Thanks,” muttered Rebecca behind her. 

“Shut up,” Jamie muttered back. 

Dani had gone still, but the weapon was still a gleaming line of bloody crimson held overhead.

“She can get us a cruiser with a hyperdrive,” Jamie said. “We can get out of here. Just - put down the lightsabre? Please?” 

The elevator made a bright ding behind them and the doors slid open. Dani leveled the lightsabre and for a brief terrifying moment Jamie thought she was going to cut it straight through her from shoulder to hip. The blade stopped, pointing at Rebecca just over Jamie’s shoulder, and she made a sharp little gesture with the tip that Jamie could hear burning up the air right next to her ear. 

"Move," Dani ordered softly, and her voice sounded odd. As though there was more than one person speaking in unison.

Rebecca moved, backing slowly into the elevator. Lowering her hands, Jamie followed. Dani watched them with the fixedness of a predator, the air around her cold enough that Jamie shivered when Dani stepped into the small enclosed space with them. The lightsabre still seared in Dani’s fist, pointed towards the ground. Rebecca hit a button for hangar bay three, and the doors of the elevator shut with a hiss. 

The elevator started its descent. If this had been any other time, Jamie might have been tempted to reach out, gently grasp Dani’s wrist and urge her to put the lightsabre away. But this was not any other time, and there was nothing of the woman Jamie had grown to know over the last week in Dani’s face now. She stared blankly at the shut elevator doors, never blinking.

They arrived at hangar bay three and Rebecca immediately rushed over to the console that controlled access to the ship docked just beyond the hangar doors. She hooked something into the base of the console, making the screen flicker before giving her full admin privileges. As she started keying in the right commands, Jamie walked up beside her. 

Dani drifted behind her, blade in hand, completely silent. It felt like being followed by a mute ghost. 

Whatever Rebecca did worked. The hangar doors unlatched, turned, then slowly opened to reveal the sleek polished interior of a luxury cruiser yacht. Jamie stepped into the yacht’s entryway and looked around at the gleaming walls. Finally, Dani hit the button to sheathe the lightsabre and brushed past Jamie without a glance in her direction, vanishing around a corner of the cruiser. The brief contact made Jamie shiver. 

“Right. Okay,” said Jamie, hand pressing on the wound at her abdomen, still jittery from that feeling of being prey in the sights of something with very big teeth. She turned to Rebecca. “Fuck you, I guess?” 

From behind the console, Rebecca smiled weakly at her. “I suppose I deserve that. Does this mean I owe you a favour?”

“The biggest favour,” Jamie said gravely. “Like - seriously huge.”

“Until next time, then. Oh, and Jamie?” Rebecca said, and Jamie paused to glance back at her. “Don’t die.” 

Swallowing thickly, Jamie nodded, then Rebecca hit the button to shut the doors.  

Easier said than done.

[skampi835]

Letters (Mitsunari x reader x Ieyasu)

This is another contribution for the Unloved Characters Month event, hosted by @the-moonlight-dreams. Because I had so much fun writing the two before. Motonari: Hell of the Living & Yoshimoto: Corolla Promise. I really wanted to do another one (like an addict).

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Language: english

Starring: Mitsunari x reader x Ieyasu (no real pairing though)

Genre: Fluff 

Warning: none

Prompt: Day 22 - Letters

Word Count: 1.400

Also I have absolutely NO IDEA why the heck Mitsunari’s on this list of unloved characters!😳 I mean, come on!😭😭 Mitsunari’s like the politest, sweetest cinnamon roll on earth (besides Vincent). Hope you enjoy!

"You're smiling like sunshine, again. Is there any good report?" You’re asking, while pouring tea into cups, which sit on the desk. Mitsunari’s raising his head thoughtfully, with that warm, angelic smile of his. "Yes, Lady (y/n). There was a very lovely letter in between again."

“Oh, was there?" Jokingly replying, you’re placeing the teapot on the desk between the two of you. You just brewed it a few moments ago, even though Mitsunari insisted in offering you tea in the first place, when you arrived with his mailing. But you're quite aware, that under no circumstances you should letting him work with boiling water or tealeaves, because you knew how clumsy Mitsunari could be sometimes. Besides it doesn't bother you at all, spending some time with Mitsunari and getting a break from your chatelaine duties, for he was always the politest among the warlords, when you’d first arrived in the Sengoku period. "Is it one of those love-letters?"

You are calling them love-letters in jest, since the first one had arrived a few weeks ago. "You know it's not such a thing." Mitsunari snickers lightly and its sound is warming your heart with delight. "But it's a very comforting letter with good advices I'll have to reconsider. Whoever's sending me this letters must care deeply for me."

A soft smile blooms on your lips as you’re reaching for your cup. "That's awesome. I'm so happy for you, Mitsunari.” Honestly you are more than relieved and thankful as you’ve thought, ever since these short messages from an anonymous individual started.

Mitsunari had a rough time lately, struggling with his self-care, after an incident that happened one month ago. During a combat against some threats from the Ouchi-clan, almost a devastating mistake had slipped through Mitsunaris calculations. It was thanks to Mitsuhide, that nothing dangerously had happened, for he was the one in charge of Azuchi, while Nobunaga was fighting on the front. Prescient thinking, Mitsuhide assumed a siege towards Azuchi, whereas the war had focused with the heated battle. This had made him evacuate the civilians inside the castle walls. Thanks to the kitsunes quick thinking he averted bloodshed among the village and prevented a great loss for Azuchi and the Oda.

Sadly though, Mitsunari’s miscalculation had left him so deeply crestfallen, that he’d fallen back in his old bad habits, even more than usual. It took you an amount of effort, dragging Mitsunari out step by step, of the cloudy thoughts, he’d locked himself to. Lastly it was thanks to those words written in these letters Mitsunari had received for a while, that he’s finally able to smile again, honest and candid.

Plus Mitsunari’s doing a great job, caring about himself again, besides for a few known issues. His place looks more organized, although with a few stacks of books. He’s even almost having a proper meal daily, looking rested and at ease. You had not enough words of gratitude for this unknown individual, who had sent Mitsunari the letters, lifting his spirit in a quite peculiar way.

Mitsunari was so confused when the first letter arrived and after your request, he had lent it to you.

“Stop worrying the people and get some sleep already!

You made a mistake, so what? It happens sometimes. Nothing bad happened, so pull yourself together.

The townspeople are talking that you’re looking tired and they were annoyingly noisy, that you weren't smiling during your last visit. You know how pesky that blabber is?”

There wasn’t any hint to the sender of this letter and after you finished reading, you were puzzled and worried about those harsh words towards poor Mitsunari. You recommended to just ignoring it, but Mitsunari was strangely solemn. “Ignore it? But Lady (y/n), the writer of this letter is probably right.” He confessed mournful and guilty. “I am worrying you and the others, don’t I?”

He’d looked so sad and lost, but after a good night’s rest, like the writer has requested, Mitsunari opened up again. He allowed you to help him, eliminating the mess in his room. Together you slowly established a new routine, that’s good for his self-care. Every time when one of these few letters arrived once in a while, Mitsunari’s amazing bright smile returns on his lips.

“What does this one say?” Curiously you’re asking over the rim of your teacup, that you just had a sip of. Mitsunari’s gently folding the letter and circumspectly tucking it back into its cover, while he's gifting you with an honest and featherlight smile. “It says that I’m not alone, when there’s a tough decision.” He answers with calm in his voice, pausing for a little while, searching for his following words. “I am sorry, but I’d prefer to keep the accurate choice of words a secret this time if you don’t mind.”

“Oh... But of course not.” Compliable you nodded, smiling mindful. “It’s a message just for you, after all.”

Mitsunari’s radiant smile’s remaining ever so lightly and beautiful on his handsome face, brightening even the sunny day outside. “Thank you, for your kindness, Lady (y/n).”

_____

After your nice break, with a delicious cup of tea and some pleasurable chat with Mitsunari, you’d left Hideyoshi’s manor with a good feeling, in order to continue your duties as chatelaine. It was nice, seeing polite Mitsunari so much calmer, than a few weeks ago. His reservation had occupied and saddened you very much, to the point of aching. Seeing him now with the same charming smile and kind yet clear alertness in his amethyst eyes, that you’ve grown so familiar with, makes you almost impossibly happy.

As you returned to Azuchi castle you’re catching sight of someone familiar who was just about to leave, before he spotted you. “Just when I decided not wasting my time any longer.” He mutters in his usual snarky tone. “Ah, Ieyasu, I totally lost track of time.” And you’ve nearly forgotten! For a while now Ieyasu had finally given in to your constant whinings and secretly prosecutions - that weren’t that secret at all - to teach you medical herbalism, biweekly. But telling him that, would’ve make him reconsider this decision, so you quickly add: “I’m so sorry, Ieyasu. I visited Mitsunari before and I guess I’d got a little distracted.”

“You guess?” Ieyasu’s bored scrutinizing glare is drilling through you, while he crossed his arms before his chest. But after a while, he unpleasant sighs. “It can’t be helped. It’s too late for your lesson today.” You’re sighing distressful, which made Ieyasu even looking more annoyed. Exasperated he avoids your gaze. “I can spare some free time tomorrow afternoon. But don’t you dare set me off again! My time’s too valuable.”

With relief you’re smiling happily. “I would never! Thank you, Ieyasu!” -- “You don’t have to thank me for that.” He’s answering stroppy, lifting his gaze again. “How is he doing?”

“He...? Oh, you mean Mitsunari?” You’re asking amazed, before a cute, joyful smile is curving your lips. “He’s doing great, lately. I’d like to believe he’d got over his personal rock bottom.” Suddenly you’re beaming a grateful smile towards Ieyasu. “Your letters helped a lot, truly.”

Regardless of Ieyasu, narrowing his eyes doubtfully, you go on: “Mitsunari showed me the first two letters and the characters are quite similar with your scrawly handwriting in some way. So I figured, that maybe you’re the unknown writer.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. And I don’t care. I don’t write letters.” Ieyasu answers brusque shooting a tetchy frown in your direction like a silent warning. But it couldn’t blur your smile nor falter the knowing look in your eyes. “You always insult Mitsunari, when he’s around you. Yet the last time you spoke with Masamune you’ve said, that it irritades you, seeing Mitsunari’s letting himself being pushed around, when he’s got such an extensive knowledge. I’d like to think, that you’re secretly admiring him.”

If Ieyasu was shooting with his glare before, now he’s definitely striking you down with his killing glance. “What are you babbling?” He blurts out, snapping a painfully irritated “Idiot.” as an extra. Without any hesitation, Ieyasu’s trudging off, his scarf fiercely wafting behind him.

“See, now I have a reason! Thank you, Ieyasu! See you, tomorrow!” You shouted cheerfully after him, whereas Ieyasu just grumpily groans, while he’s hurrying to leave the castle.

[thomotomo]

Mornings

TW // Reference to torture and pain

Plot: Just a morning between Percival and Newt

Words: 805

It was a sunny day, for once, in England, and the sun was peeking his rays through the curtains of a bedroom in a small cottage. A dark-haired man was lied in bed, his name was Percival Graves, he was thinking about how much his life has changed those last years, the war, those long months he spent feeling empty, unable to do anything but waiting for someone to save him. He remembered how helpless he felt when he was in that dark manor, he has suffered so much that his mind had disconnected with his body, he didn’t felt pain anymore, but he could see everything that happened to him.

Luckily, he was saved, but it was too late. His body was wounded so much that the first time he looked in a mirror again he couldn’t recognize who it was. After this trauma, he left MACUSA, and went to live in a cottage.

And it was thanks to a man who was his saviour, with his cute freckles and his shy grin and his short red hair.

Newt Scamander.

Percival looked next to him, his now fiancé was sound asleep, which was understandable as he was spending a lot of time working on his new book, but he has to take care of his creatures too so this was taking a lot of energy too.

Of course, Percival helped him, but the older man still had to be careful not to be too harsh with his body.

A soft smile appeared on his lips as he was watching the chest of his man rising and downing. Percival got out of the bed, slowly to avoid waking up the younger male. He walked barefooted on the parquet of the house, going to the kitchen. He couldn’t help but yawning a little, while filling the kettle with water before waiting for it to boil. During this time, he took two mugs from a cupboard along with a teapot of Earl Grey.

The kettle whistled as it was ready, and Percival used his wand to avoid burning himself then poured the water in the two mugs.

He suddenly tensed as soft lips kissed his back et two arms wrapped around his waist.

“The bed was cold… You left me alone”

Percival chuckled lightly, hearing the morning voice of his lover.

“Sorry love, I didn’t want to wake you up. You seemed really tired.”

“Mmmh… Maybe but I sleep better with you…”, Newt nuzzled in the male’s back.

“Then let’s get back to bed, I’m bringing the tea”

Newt nodded and kissed Percival’s cheek, he slightly blushed, Newt can make him feel like a schoolgirl even though he was past 30 years old. The younger male smiled softly and started to walk to the bedroom. Percival observer the smaller frame of his fiancé walking to their bedroom.

He followed him, holding the mugs of tea. When he arrived, Newt was once again in the bed, sat against the headboard. The older male smiled and gave his redhaired lover a mug and sat next to him, kissing his cheek softly.

“Good morning beautiful.”

Newt laughed and Percival felt his heart missing a beat, every time he heard this melodious laugh, he was feeling blessed to have such a man as his fiancé. Newt put his head on the older male’s shoulder, smiling softly while taking a look at the engagement ring on his ring finger.

“I can’t believe we’re getting married...”

“I’m the one who can’t believe it, I get to marry the most beautiful man on Earth.”, Percival nuzzled Newt’s cheek while talking.

Newt chuckled and turned his head, taking a good look at his soon-to-be husband.

“You’re such a sap despite being scary!”

The dark-haired male let out a husky laugh, he couldn’t find a good comeback to that, after all it was true, a lot of his old subordinates and colleagues found him scary. He drank a bit of his tea, his husband’s habits grown on him, he left coffee for tea and he was rather thankful for that.

“What time is it?”

“It’s 9:26 AM”, said Percival as he looked at the clock on his left.

“Mh. It’s still quite early then…”

“Yes. We should stay here a bit more.”

“I agree, I quite enjoy your hugs mister Graves.”

Newt put his cup on the nightstand next to him and Percival did the same. The younger male smiled and shuffled even closer to his husband, he put his head on his chest as a arm wrapped around the small of his back. Newt felt a kiss on the top of his forehead and a soft sigh escaped him. Percival smiled and closed his eyes to get a little bit more of sleep with his fiancé.

Sunny mornings were probably their favourite kind of mornings.

____________

Heyy! Tell me what you think about it!

Don't hesitate to comment and like! (And reblog too!)

I'm always open to constructive criticism so don't hesitate to tell me if you noticed some errors...

Also my requests are open so if you want to request anything do it!

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

I'm curious about "a history of dead women in the city" (and also the Wellington one, of course)

Yusss! 

“History of dead women in the city” - oh man one day I will write this. It's part of this world I'm creating called Babel and it follows this woman as she tries to figure out what happened to her sister who died years ago. 

 A long excerpt: 

Here is a scene from our childhood: It’s a sunny day. Dappled. Portrait worthy sun. It brings out freckles. We are in the courtyard, my sister drawing and me watching her draw. On a large blanket by the well sits our parents. Our mother is laughing, her arms entwined with our father’s, they are so in love. They do not notice us. It’s one of those loves that perfumes air, that is intimate and consuming, where only they exist and nothing else.

‘That is what I want,’ Bellefrey says to me. She’s drawing my round face. Squinting, holding up her thumb, making a show of it. ‘I want a man who makes me feel sublime.’ 

‘Don’t you mean loved?’ 

Oh no, she means sublime. She wants to be a thunderstorm. A tsunami. A hurricane. Something you stand in awe of. 

‘The word awesome is overused,’ she explains. ‘We use it too much. Everything is awesome. The food-stalls at the mid-summer carnival are awesome. The paintings by George Dier are awesome. The play at the Round was awesome. I’m awesome. You’re awesome. Everyone’s awesome. Awesome, awesome, awesome.’ Her voices becomes mocking at the end. 

‘But I am awesome,’ I protest. ‘I know how to make a penny appear from behind your ear.’ I sit up to perform the trick and she lets me fumble through it. 

That was over thirty years ago when Bellefrey was seventeen and me, a mere ten. 

Bellefrey wrote to me a week before she died saying that she hoped her daughter Lyra would make up her mind about the name for her daughter. The child was two weeks old and still no name. How was that to be countenanced? 

Lyra was Bellefrey’s third child, though second to survive. Perhaps she thought you should have all these things planned. Bellefrey was a great believer in organization. She planned out all the names for her children. Lists tracked down the side of commonplace books next to recipes and almanac predictions. Boy names, girl names, names that could go for either. 

As soon as she missed her third course she was to the local midwife to read leaves over her stomach so she could prepare properly. Will it be a boy? Will it be a girl? Will it die and so there is no need to prepare a name? 

Johan is her son, first born. He followed his father into the merchant trade and sells all manner of fabrics and spices. He visits me, aunty I’ve black tea pearls for you laced with lavender, hounded by dried ginger, protected by saffron. We brew fragrant drinks and he shows me his art. All those drawings of places I will never see but he has and oh isn’t that wonderful. 

Havel was her second child, a boy, but he died at three weeks. One of those deaths where the babe goes to sleep and doesn’t wake up. Gay in the morning, dead by dinner except there is no fever to blame this on. 

Lyra is three. First daughter and pulled out a screaming child with spindly legs and a too-large head. Her hair is the thick curls that is our mother’s inheritance, her grandmother’s inheritance. Married to a lawyer who aims to one day be well connected through the inns of court, she means to make herself into something. Daughter three was named Belle. She wagged a finger at me, never a word about beasts and fairy tales. 

I don’t tell her that a woman I knew said that fairytales are our collective neurosis born out in repeating tropes. Patterned to go down forever and on. 

The fourth had no name because the leaves read by her midwife told her not to bother. It was born early and without heartbeat. 

Guilluam is fifth and last. She swore he was conceived ready to escape her belly. He patted the inside of her stomach as soon as he could move. Once born he clung to her then didn’t anymore, running away at sixteen. A year before she died. 

What would her most difficult child make of all of this? I remember his sneering face. Where Johan was gentle kindness, Guilluam was sharp. He cut with a look. He cut with a laugh. He could be a harsh, cruel boy. Probably is a harsh, cruel man. 

Or maybe he’s softened. Maybe as he ages he’s gentling. Some people do that. But in all honesty, I don’t think Guilluam the sort. 

What am I trying to do? I’m trying to introduce a woman. A girl. A child. A person whom I have loved all my life and will continue to love all my life. Though I am so angry with her for leaving us it wasn’t her fault. 

See, I’m guilty as all of us are guilty. 

Bellefrey got caught up in something bigger than her death. She was hidden in the shadows of a great anger and a great brutality. 

Bellefrey died and was found months and months later wearing a green dress and purple shoes with pearls on them. 

No one knows what she was caught up in and no one knows about this great brutality, this great anger that once stalked through our less than fine and noble city. 

I do not have my sister’s blood on my hands. But I do have her gravedirt.

 --- 

 The Wellington one! I completely forgot about this one. It's part of the ridiculous Woodford Napoleon AU where Napoleon ends up in England and there are murder fairies. In this story, things are starting to come through a mysterious mirror that someone shipped to Napoleon for unknown reasons. Arthur shows up to investigate. 

 Another long excerpt:

In the drawing room rests the mirror. It was received a little over a month ago wrapped in brown paper with no information on sender or purpose. It is a heavy, old thing. Age-spotted, warped, the frame is heavy, gilded wood. Napoleon says that for him it’s Tuileries. Has he told Arthur about Tuileries? The sacking of it? 

‘Only that you said vive la revolution and someone asked if you were from the south and you said yes and that is what saved you.’ 

‘Southerners have to stick together,’ Napoleon’s sphinxian smile. Then he goes into himself, how he does when he’s formatting a memory — twisting it into some form of narrative that will make sense to those who were not there. Bertrand told Arthur once, It’s the revolution, we can’t really explain it. How we went about our day but also checked this list that was kept of everyone taken up as enemies. You went every morning to make sure your friends were still alive. Then you had breakfast. 

Napoleon shrugs at Arthur’s patient waiting. ‘It was messy. There was a man’s head on a pike. He had a beard, brown hair that curled, blue eyes. And the floor was scattered with torn drapes, rags that were once kingly gowns, shattered statues, remains of old portraits. A lot of broken glass. Windows and mirrors.’

And as for this mirror? With its growth that says: come come come. Nothing happened the first little while. Oh yes, various and sundry people of the neighbourhood came to view the mirror — to see if they recognised it.

‘And did they?’ Arthur asks. 

Yes and no for all who saw it. Mrs. Topsom said it reminded her of a beautiful manor in the Scottish highlands she once visited as a child. She did not seem comfortable with this recollection. Mrs. Phillips said it brought to mind a book she once read which told the story of a young woman trapped in a tower whose uncle froze time. Lady Preston said it was something from the Assembly Rooms in Bath. 

‘And your household?’ 

Napoleon shrugs. What is there to say on that? Nothing. It was the revolution and it was abdication and it was family homes that are no longer homes of families. 

Arthur shifts his gaze from the pensive face of Napoleon back to the mirror and he looks at it for a long moment. Studies the carvings of the frame — the flowers, vines, mischievous eyes peeking out from behind leaves. ‘I suppose it’s something from Spain, if I think on it long enough. A wealthy home we stayed in, during the campaign.’ 

‘A bit of something for everyone.’ 

‘Yes,’ Arthur agrees. Then he adds, ‘and no.’ 

The main issue with the mirror is this: that there is a staircase growing out of it. 

When Arthur approaches he can hear whispers crawling through his mind. Slithering down the back of his head.  

‘How long have the steps been here?’

‘Week and a half. It formed slowly, so we were able to document it in a thorough manner. Bertrand will give you his notes.’

Arthur hums as he inspects the object, pondering cause and effect. And, more importantly, who sent it to the exiles and to what purpose. There is nothing behind the mirror, only the wall it is propped up against. The stairs themselves are made of oak, and descend as three steps out into their world. Within the mirror they meld into an old stone walkway that climbs into a forest and is lost amongst trees and brush and forest fog. 

There are leaves on the floor. And dirt. Detritus of autumnal life. They crunch beneath Arthur’s boots. Everything smells of decay. 

‘Has anyone touched the mirror?’ Arthur asks. ‘Seen if it’s solid?’

‘We had Sir Hudson Lowe test it.’ Napoleon replies with an air of innocence. Arthur casts him a look. ‘What? Would you rather him disappear forever into the mirror or my good self? And no need to answer. You can save your blushes, we’re alone.’

‘You’re incorrigible.’

‘It’s one of my finer points.’

‘And? Was it solid?’ Arthur asks.

‘Yes and no.’ Napoleon approaches and touches the glass. His palm rests against it for a beat, then it begins to go through to the other side. Napoleon lets his hand sink through up to his wrist before withdrawing. ‘No one has walked through yet.’

With this touch the whispering decreases. Though, there remains the feeling of being watched. It is not that they are hunted, Arthur thinks, but rather they are being inspected. Something is curious about them. 

Reaching forward, he places his palm where Napoleon’s had been. The glass is cool to the touch and when his hand begins to sink through his skin buzzes with frisson of magic, that unfurling warmth crawls up his arm as his hand enters the other side where the air is cool yet humid. That sticky feeling of late winter.

He pulls his hand away.

‘What are your orders?’ Napoleon asks.

‘To investigate.’

The whispers return. Arthur rubs the back of his head. Such an unpleasant feeling, something else in your mind speaking a language you cannot understand in a collection of voices none of which are your own.

‘Maybe we should put a sheet over it,’ Arthur suggests after a moment. ‘Just in case.’

Going over to the window seat Napoleon opens a cupboard beneath to pull out a heavy blanket. He holds it up showing the shredded fabric. 

‘We tried,’ Napoleon says. ‘Mrs. Phillips recommended salt so we put a circle around it but found strange footprints in it the next morning. We tried the blanket, but it was clawed through. We collected iron implements and made a circle around it with those and that seemed to work better than the other options. I still think they got out, though.’

‘And you’re just keeping it here in your house?’

‘Oh yes, it’s fine.’

Arthur rolls his eyes. Trust Bonaparte to think it’s fine keeping a mirror-doorway to the land of fairy in his house with potential creatures coming and going out of it at all hours.

‘We leave food out for them.’

‘They’re not pets!’

‘No,’ Napoleon pats Arthur’s cheek with a warm smile. ‘But that’s what you’re supposed to do to keep fairies happy. Come now, you should know this. Milk, bread, sometimes a brandy.’

‘I give up!’

‘Young Napoleon Bertrand has suggested names for them —‘

‘Good lord.’

‘Ferdinand, Finnegan, and Felipe.’

‘Christ’s blood.’

‘Excellent,’ Napoleon enthuses. ‘You’re cursing like a Catholic. I knew I’d be a good influence on you. Come, we shall have a late supper.’

---

Thank you so much for the ask! <3 <3 

[das meme]

[ikkos]

﹅   000   ✩     一    THE SILHOUETTE !

“See the horizon. See the sun that’s coming awake there, or perhaps it’s retiring for the moon now; see the golds and pinks and the promise of a sunny day’s blue, or perhaps the indigos and violets stark behind stars. See the one that approaches, their gait and their pace and the clothes that hang off their figure. Most details are lost to the distance, but if you look and listen hard enough, you might be able to discern their identity…”

⠀

TW: Death.

—  Describe your muse as best as possible in a single sentence.

“She’s standing on a line between giving up and seeing how much more she can take.”

—  Describe your muse as horribly as possible in a single sentence.

“I just gotta kiss myself sometimes, I’m so f*cking pretty.”

— Describe your muse’s voice.

Honey drips at the seams every time her lips dictate any form of noise. It’s sweet, delicate, gentle - perhaps, formal. She has been trained since a young age to maintain posture and reduce aggressiveness or excessive negative language due to her growth of rank. The classes have always been about creating a purr as opposed to a stuttering, unconfident statement. As, for a woman, in such an industry, one must be taken seriously by the way they stride or maintain themselves. Maybe if you leaned a little closer, listened a little more, there could be something seething in her undertones of dishonesty and toxic intentions.

— Describe your muse’s fashion sense.

Fashion to her is more than cute clothings, but rather an expression of personality, uniqueness, and showcasing her own self-confidence. From pleated skirts, thigh highs, short dresses, and high heels - she’s maintained the typical ‘rich girl’ aesthetic by the amount of high end brands endorsing her look. However, she enjoys a twist, her own sense of self in her clothings by either: cutting, restyling, recoloring, or repurposing.. which makes all of her closet options simply distinctive to only her. Nothing about her fashion sense would be found on anyone else, but her. It is what she has taken the most pride in over the course of several years as her style continuously evolves into something of a more formal business woman. No, you won’t ever catch her looking basic, even if she’s dead.

— Give a quote of something your muse has said before.

“How many funerals can someone attend before they’re twenty?” Black adorned her frame a little too perfectly for the event, at least, if you ignored any dark circles coated underneath her eyes that were negligent to constant appraisal; yet the mirror mounted in-front of her paid no mind to highlighting all of those small details to her. She knew she looked like a mess and didn’t need the untrustworthy reminder. “Miss. Jeon, that’s inappropriate.” Komi’s eyes rolled at such a statement since she nearly forgot someone else accompanied her in the tight space. “But, it’s true.”

— What fable, mythic, or fairy tale character would your muse best play the role of?

Sleeping beauty; her favorite princess.

“Princess Aurora (also known as Briar Rose) is the protagonist of Disney's 1959 animated feature film, Sleeping Beauty. She is the daughter of King Stefan and Queen Leah. On the day of her christening, Aurora was cursed to die by the evil fairy Maleficent. Due to the efforts of three good fairies, the curse was altered to instead draw Aurora into a deep sleep that could only be broken by true love's kiss.”

— Which archetype best describes your muse?

The Lover.

“The lover archetype represents play and sensual pleasure. They like to live in the moment and are appreciative of the physical environment. They try to be more attractive physically, and emotionally. They crave intimacy and enjoy being in a relationship with people. The lover archetype is also known as a friend, spouse, team builder, partner, and sensualist. The lover archetype is probably the most passionate, but they have a tendency to lack discipline. They want to stay young, innocent, and pure. They remain one of the most likable of archetypes.”

— Which temperament does your muse have?

Sanguine 21, Phlegmatic 12, Melancholic 6, Choleric 8.

“Your temperament is Sanguine. The Sanguine temperament is fundamentally spontaneous and pleasure-seeking; Sanguine people are sociable and charismatic. They tend to enjoy social gatherings, making new friends and tend to be boisterous. They are usually quite creative and often daydream. However, some alone time is crucial for those of this temperament. Sanguine can also mean sensitive, compassionate and thoughtful. Sanguine personalities generally struggle with following tasks all the way through, are chronically late, and tend to be forgetful and sometimes a little sarcastic. Often, when they pursue a new hobby, they lose interest as soon as it ceases to be engaging or fun. They are very much a people persons. They are talkative and not shy. Sanguines generally have an almost shameless nature, certain that what they are doing is right. They have no lack of confidence.”

— Describe your muse’s favorite memory.

Four years old, a memory at its earliest stage, yet so delicate and precious. The young girl trotted after her father in a near skip, smiles echoed on both of their features. This was the first time she found herself glued to the man’s side in endearment rather than fear; something of a new emotion for her to experience. But, It was only given that her attention faltered onto the beautifully decorated frames of different generations alongside the wall by her. Curiosity at its finest, one that her father indulged in while they toured the vacant manor. “One day it’ll be your’s, darling. Your own castle that you can protect.” At the time, of course, she didn’t fully understand the definition behind his words, yet the idea alone gave nothing but a euphoric feeling as her fingers laced together with his. “You can do that for me, right?”

— Name something your muse will always believe in.

Destiny & soulmates.

— Name a song that would play during the opening of a movie about your muse’s life.

Worst Behavior by Ariana Grande

— Going out or staying in?

Going out.

— Read the book or watch the movie?

Read the book.

— Talk during a movie or absolutely not?

No. What do you think this is?

— Sing to a song, hum along, or people should just stay quiet and enjoy listening to the song?

She wouldn’t be able to decide herself.

— Windows up while you’re driving or roll them down?

Wait, she’s allowed to drive?

— A wizard casts a spell on your muse that reveals their true colors. No, literally. The wisp of an aura is beginning to form around your muse. What color is it?

Crimson twirled around her in a deep fog. It felt suffocating as if air was forced out of her lungs within mere seconds, being replaced by nothing but the encasements of red. She knew very well that she deprives herself into two different personalities. She just didn’t expect the full showcase to cause such an intense pressure down against her chest. Red..? The color of love, creativity, passion, adventure, energy, and so many more beautiful things. Although, all she could think about were the color’s relativity to danger and aggression. There’s no way to tell which is the true or honest tell of her character.

— A wizard casts a spell on your muse that reveals their true nature. Smoke curls around your muse, accompanied by distant sounds of wildlife. When the smoke clears, what animal is standing in your muse’s place?

The previously suffocating smoke finally cascades from her senses. Opposed to the expected, a small fox appears in her wake, sounds of birds and leaves in the wind peeking from the distance. Many appeal to the fox as an ideal spirit animal by the way they follow signs of loyalty, independence, adaptability, beauty, and positive signs of luck. This is something she felt she could agree with as well as understand despite the strange circumstances. It’s what she didn’t know is the entire reason behind her revealed spirit; that the foxes are the royalties of mischievousness and tricks.

— A wizard (is this still the same wizard?) casts a spell on your muse that allows them to see what they most desire right here, right now, right in front of them. What do they see?

It seems these strange events never stop. This realization dawned on her the moment a figure shaped in-front of her, a figure so familiar yet unknown. The figure reached out to her with worry printed on their ghostly features. She didn’t know how to react at first, it was only natural that her hand reached out to his, an unforced smile tugging at the edges of her lips. When their fingers touched, all shades of color and light became possible. It became easy. It felt like fireworks plus all previous negative emotions or pressures ceasing to exist in his wake. She believed that this was her fate, the one she’s destined to be with. At least, until the figure lifted her small frame off the floor in a more maternal stance. Her eyes grew wide while everything around her froze. “Fa-..”

— A wizard (why haven’t they given up yet?) casts a spell on your muse that forces them to see what they are most afraid of. What do they see?

Within an instant, everything vanishes from her line-sight. Nothing but pure darkness surrounds her, not even indications of time or location. Her heart begins to pound inside her chest as panic shivers its way down every nerve and fiber of her being. Where is she? Where did everyone go? The girl paces back and forth before eventually running anywhere she could go without truly feeling like she’s moving at all. In the end, her body falls down to her knees as weakness or hopelessness settles into her bones; a broken sob stuck in the back of her throat. Being alone is the most tragic feeling anyone could experience.

[fangirlyah]

✦just an arrangement - Draco Malfoy x Reader (part 2)

summary: the return to the school year with the dark mark is hard enough, but now they must fulfill a more intimate request or they expect a happily ever after with an old death eater.

warnings: cursing and mentions of sex

word count: 2,383

a/n: hey! i think i will do at least 2 more parts to this story but idk so tell me what u think :) 

another thing, i imagine y/n with this dress: https://www.pinterest.ph/pin/623185667178835548/?nic_v2=1a1Y1Zk4c but you can imagine her with any dress, suit or whatever you feel most comfortable with 

that sunny morning, draco had received a letter from his mother.

my dearest draco, 

severus informed us about your relationship with the girl y/l. I am surprised that you didn't tell me sooner, according to your teacher your relationship is now three months old. your father is delighted with the news, so he wants to have you both this weekend to present you as an official couple. y/n's parents will surely inform her about it. 

we look forward to seeing you. 

much love.

your mother

when he had gone down to the slytherin common room and saw her sitting down, he assumed that she had already received the news. 

"magnolia brought my letter too, we are expected this friday for dinner" y/n explained mentioning her beloved owl.

"are you ready?" draco took a seat on an individual sofa in the living room, which was opposite hers. 

"i'm not going to lie to you and say yes" this was their first talk like that. it was the first time they spoke from heart to heart about the subject that united them so much, the darkness that surrounded them. 

when draco wanted to answer her, some first year children entered the common room and looked at them. they could not continue talking about the subject so y/n got up from her place to continue with their performance. 

"see you in the great hall, darling" leaving draco in shock, she placed a kiss on his forehead and went to the exit of the place. 

he sat on the couch for what he thought had been hours. still feeling her soft lips on his forehead and her sweet voice calling out a lovely nickname. unknowingly they felt the same, both trying to push out those feelings that fluttered in their stomachs whenever they were near.

that wednesday, the day they received the news, y/n was taken by her mother to hogsmeade in search of a stylish dress. having such intimidating and influential parents had its benefits as being able to leave to hogsmeade just to look for a dress in the middle of a typical morning. 

"looking for your little girlfriend, malfoy?!” one of the weasley twins shouted as they watched the blond boy look for his 'girlfriend' in the chaos of the great hall. draco only gave them a determined look, saying that he would only lend them his attention for a few seconds. "her mother came to look for her this morning and she hasn't yet returned" 

draco and y/n had spent their mornings apart and lunch was the time where they should make a daily show of affection. they had never reached the point of kissing but they knew that they should do so, in the way not to arouse suspicion. 

draco did not want to feel worried but the mention of y/n’s mother made him alert. when he was about to violently ask the twins how they had this information he saw her enter the room with a smile, which he thought was probably fake. 

he saw her walk the long way to him greeting many people giving them warm smiles and looks. for a moment he wished he was her and so that people would like him. 

 "hello, draco” the smile that involuntarily came out on his face was bigger than he would have liked. 

she was so close that he smelled her perfume and saw the sparkles in her eyes in the light. without knowing where so much courage came from, draco approached her face with the intention of kissing her lips briefly and giving their audience, that were staring at them, what they wanted. but she discreetly refused his offer of a kiss and allowed his lips to reach her cheek; despite the failed attempt, both blushed and y/n gave him a look that he could not decipher.

"where were you?” his long white hand took hers to sit on the table and start eating lunch, side by side. 

"mum took me to buy a dress, according to her your tie will be the same colour" 

"aww your first official couple's dinner! i want to see your dress y/n! where do you have it?" astoria was a causeless romantic, so she was always attentive to what they were doing or not. 

"it's in my dorm, i'll show it to you later” draco knew that astoria had something up her sleeve, because of the way she looked at y/n and how attentive her movements were; maybe it was jealousy, his parents had informed him that one of his suitors was astoria greengrass and that if he didn't find a girlfriend on his own, she would be an option as a future wife; maybe astoria's parents had already told her that too. 

the remaining days to dinner, passed in the blink of an eye. so when they least noticed, y/n was coming down from her dorm knowing that draco was waiting for her in the common room, ready to disparate and head for the malfoy mansion. 

he was standing leaning his back on an armchair, his hair perfectly combed and clean with an immaculate suit that made him look mature and handsome. his tie was the exact same colour as the dress that adorned y/n's body. 

she came down the stairs with an elegance that she wore in her day to day life even though she was not wearing such fine clothes. when draco saw her his heart turned as he was grateful that he was bringing home such a beautiful companion. 

"hello draco" y/n greeted him cordially when she reached his side, he seemed bewitched and although he tried to hide it she noticed and was happy to see that she was not the only one impressed. 

he said, "are you ready?" gently his hand approached hers, to take her and travel by magic to his home. 

"you don't want to know the answer" 

despite being in high shoes, y/n landed on the manor door as if it were nothing. the big black door was not a very cheerful welcome, but both knew they had to enter with the best of faces. 

and so they did. draco took the initiative and entangled his arm with y/n’s to start their performance. 

as soon as they entered the house a wave of people looked at them; many more than they expected. their parents had told them that the guests would not exceed fifteen people but in front of them were at least thirty wizards and witches. 

"well hello to our guests of honor!” bellatrix made her way through the crowd to greet her nephew and the pretty girl who accompanied him. 

draco’s nerves were too noticeable so y/n, and her theatrical skills, had to take the lead.   

"good night everyone..." there were many pairs of eyes on them, all quietly waiting for the couple to debut the night "you all look very elegant...emm thank you for receiving us on such a beautiful night" 

y/n parents were looking at her proudly from the other side of the room. both they and the malfoy were swallowing the farce like a shot of imported whiskey, worshipping the new alliance; their children's relationship guaranteed wealth and power to both families. 

"say something, draco" y/n whispered, keeping her eyes and smile up high. 

"thank you so much for the great organization and preparation, we appreciate it" with that said, each guest seemed to agree and continued their previous conversation. 

they were all adults except blaise zabini and the greengrass sisters. draco thought that seeing people his age would calm his nerves but it did not. 

they all exuded airs of wealth and elegance as they spoke and drank such expensive drinks. y/n thought that by collecting all the money from food and drink she could help the weasleys build that new room that molly wanted as a knitting workshop. 

draco and y/n moved among the guests, still with their arms intertwined, to meet their parents in front of one of the tables with gourmet snacks that surely had taken the elves hours to make.

"welcome draco and y/n" lucius was the first to speak when he had the teenagers in front of him. 

“you two look so beautiful together!” y/m/n watched how their clothes matched and was proud to have insisted y/n to wear that dress. 

“we are all amazingly happy for the two of you" it was really striking how well they looked together, side by side pretending to be a couple that they were not. 

"may i ask, how did this happen?" a newcomer bellatrix asked them with a questioning look.

the nerves of both of them grew, as they had not organised any pre-dinner stories to tell and leave people satisfied.

"emm...we used to meet a lot in the library and one day draco came over, we started chatting, and that's how we fell in love" draco had to swallow so hard that his throat hurt. her voice had sounded so convincing, that he was overwhelmed to hear that they were in love. he didn't know how y/n had managed to sound so real and at the same time invent on the fly; he didn't know much about her childhood but assumed she had developed that skill at that stage of her life. 

"we want to know all the details!" astoria greengrass took y/n’s arm to get her off draco's side faster than light. 

people were eating and drinking as if there was no tomorrow, while they were questioning the recent couple who had been separated by the living room for an hour. 

in spite of the distances, draco and y/n looked at each other constantly; y/n thought it was to continue their pretense of teenagers enjoying love, but draco could not take his eyes off the girl, with that dress decorating her body as if it had been handmade for her. 

y/n had heard questions from how many children they planned to have, when they planned to get married, to whether or not he kissed with his tongue a question she questioned herself

draco, for his part, had been shot with questions from how they had met to whether she was good in bed or not; he had not needed to act angry when he heard the question, he was angry without the need to act. 

until his aunt reappeared. 

"dear nephew, how has the night been treating you?" 

"very well, aunt. how about you?” blaise had quickly disappeared when he saw bellatrix make an appearance; what a pussy, draco thought.

"oh great, i’ve been chatting with y/n for a while ...how did you meet again?" 

"emm...in the library a few months ago" he knew that his aunt did not believe that they were a couple. at that time, draco begged merlin to please make y/n appeared at his side and help him with his lack of skills in what pretending in front of death eaters was all about. but she was talking kindly to a woman, who seemed to be watching her so closely that in the muggle world y/n could have been x-rayed. the girl was not easy to read, she pretended so well, that if she was uncomfortable or upset it was difficult for draco to find out. as bellatrix continued to talk to him he wondered if any of her friends could read her to the point of acknowledging her discomfort 

"I thought you already knew each other, you know the y/l and the malfoys are families who hang around each other a lot" her voice was analytical as if she was waiting for draco to break character and spit out the truth. 

"in the library we really met, just y/n and draco not y/l and malfoy" draco knew that if y/n had heard him at that moment, she would be proud. 

"do you plan on having kids?” draco had a moment of lucidity and recognised that it was probably one of the questions his 'girlfriend' had been bombarded with; it was almost impossible that his aunt would been asking him about future children, she hated them. he did not know what y/n’s answer had been, so when he saw her alone he apologised gently and approached her, quickly but without looking desperate. 

y/n was pouring some pumpkin juice into her long glass when the blonde appeared beside her. 

"you would not know the amount of nonsense i have been asked, people really are gossi-" 

"kiss me" he whispered, causing her to leave her glass on the table confused.

"excuse me...what?"  

"my aunt is suspicious, do it now" 

it was strange, her first kiss was going to be with a boy who pretended to love her. y/n had imagined this moment completely different, but there was no choice. 

so when draco took her cheeks and kissed her sweetly as if she could break at any moment she let herself go with it. she rested her hands on his chest and let draco move his lips over hers; he had to erase any doubt that someone at the party might have, not make a scene; so they parted away after a few seconds. 

it had definitely not been as y/n expected; because she had loved it and wanted more. but when she saw that draco turned his head in search of some distrustful look, she wanted to run to the guest bedroom and curl up to cry. y/n remembered that it was all a farce, something she had forgotten the instant his lips touched hers. 

she didn't know that draco had turned his head so that she wouldn't have seen him blushed. he thought that the tickling on his lips and the bubbles in his belly were visible to her, because they felt so strong that his brain seemed to get dizzy. 

"good job" what? good job? what was that? she hadn't finished a herbology essay, why did he say that? draco wanted to punch himself, he had been an idiot. 

y/n was about to say something random to avoid awkwardness, but her mother called from afar so that she could introduce herself to some newly arrived adults; and she left, leaving draco with a shy smile that he was too confused to answer. 

what did he feel in his stomach?

[twistednuns]

August 2021

Eating the rainbow: I've started eating a large variety of fruit   for breakfast. Seeing so many different colours in my bowl makes me really happy.

Related: Perfectly ripe nectarines and peaches.

A trip to Austria with Lena and Sash // Ridiculous Spotify playlists. / Staying at a pharmacy loft in Graz with a great view. Right next to the Kunsthaus. An old book with botanical illustrations inspired my elaborate guestbook entry. / Sash making roasted cauliflower with parmesan and eggplant pasta for us. / Pumpkin seed ice-cream and a typical Styrian bean salad. / Walking through the tunnels, riding up the mountain in an elevator. Lizard friends. Walking back down. Orchards. / My new cat friend in Villach. I was very grumpy that evening so the ginger cat following me around for a while actually made my day. / Ossiacher See and another failed SUP attempt. Reading Murakami. Watching a thunderstorm.

Coming home. Beergarden with Sash and Yanch (who drove me home that day even though it was really far. Much appreciated.)

The book flea market in the middle of Bordeaux.

Driving to Cap Ferret, looking for film locations from the movie Les petits mouchoirs. The beautiful dunes bordering  the Atlantic Ocean. Jumping into the waves (after climbing a dune to reach plage d'Horizon which was so horribly exhausting I had to lie down for ten minutes before I could even think about going swimming). Then I got into a nasty current and got swept away further and further from the beach but luckily I remembered what do do in a situation like that from my diving training and managed to save myself.

My first time in Basque country. I absolutely needed to visit Bayonne because one of my favourite musicians is named after this city (at least I think he is). We also visited Biarritz that afternoon and drove on to Spain where we stayed in Bilbao for two nights. One thing I found really interesting is that there is a typical Basque font which is used everywhere, even on street signs.

Getting along famously with the receptionist (who spoke German - but the next day I managed to order coffee in Spanish... a proud moment)

The Guggenheim museum in Bilbao. Especially Louise Bourgeois' Maman sculpture. I took a really great picture of the spider in the fog.

Late night shawarmas. Getting cheap fruit and olives for breakfast in a tiny deli.

Buying a ridiculous amount of canned beverages after the mountain incident/fight/tears. Turning the mood around. Having a nice dinner at a Basque restaurant.

A tour through Spanish mountain villages. Stopping in Guernica after listening to a Spanish podcast about Picasso's famous painting. Discovering a gorgeous beach with a little island by chance.

The house in the vineyards we randomly booked via email even though it wasn't available on Airbnb anymore. A gorgeous old manor in Sainte-Valière (which is usually an artist's residence) with our lovely host Eloise and her daughter. I wish we could've stayed there longer. I loved the old furniture, our green, velvet-upholstered bed and the fireplace in the kitchen. Eating dinner in the dark outside, playing Mastermind. Going on a nightly walk though the village, meeting most of the resident cats and driving the dogs crazy.

Going crazy at Géant. Looking at everything without R. rushing me. Buying everything I wanted.

A nightly picnic at the beach in Fréjus. Skinny-dipping under the full moon. A faint glow from an amusement park on the horizon. Fireworks from a distance. Strange lights from the fishermen.

Even though getting the car stuck in the sand and spending hours in the midday heat trying to push/dig it out (after a horribly stressful morning I might add) wasn't exactly fun, I kinda appreciate   challenging situations like that because they give me a sense of purpose. A concrete problem to fix. Focus and certainty. Do all anxious people perform better in a crisis? Anyway. Coming up with a plan and the kindness of strangers were definitely things to be greatful for.

Italian AutoGrill cappuccino. Still delicious.

Raphael is a better therapist than my actual therapist. We talked a lot on our drive home from France (it was really cosy - rainy weather, gloomy light and misty mountain roads through Switzerland; I was in the passenger seat with a pillow and blanket - fresh laundry smell makes me feel so happy) and I think he's on to something with his theories.

Making roasted chickpeas for the first time. And my favourite pasta sauce.

A lovely but very early dinner at a newly opened Italian restaurant with Lena and Christian on a sunny afternoon. The restaurant's name is Junge Römer - probably because of the Falco song?

Reading about the IFS therapy method and subpersonalities. Very relatable and comprehensible. It's interesting to try and figure out which split personalities you have within yourself; who they are, how they behave, interact and why they're there or what they're responsible for.

Warm milk with honey is always such a trip down memory lane. My grandma used to prepare this for me whenever we stayed overnight.

Wearing proper clothes for a change. Surrendering to the thought that summer is over (when it had never properly started in the first place). Putting on a dress, a headband and cowboy boots. A museum-food-cinema date with Sash.

The comfort of fall season. Thinking about wardrobe updates, learning opportunities, fresh starts. Pre-ordering books and watching movies with the appropriate vibes.

I love my popcorn half-and-half (salty/sweet); and I feel like it defines me as a person. Always in-between, stuck between extremes. Indecisive.