#i used to think the grasslands were so boring

[agnerd-bot]

Message From: Professor Laurel

Open it?

Yes!< Nah…

Hi there, kiddo! It's me, Professor Laurel! How're ya doin'? You gotta be way bigger than when I saw ya last! I dunno if you remember me after all this time, but I was so excited to hear you were moving here, I just had to whip this little recording up. So let me be the first to say… Welcome to the Demanti Region!

I know that Demanti's a bit… Well, a lot different than the Alola region where you're coming from, but I'd like to think that we've got some of our own charms up north!

Naturally, Demanti's super cold, and covered with ice and snow. We've got vast tundras and gigantic mountains, expansive grasslands and near-endless forests, and we've even got some desert lands here! Demanti's a gigantic place, and I just know you'll find somewhere you'll enjoy walking around. I know I've gotten lost my fair share of times, hehe…

And of course, in all these biomes are all sorts of Pokémon! Across the earth, sea, and sky, these amazing creatures inhabit our world, waiting to be encountered. Some people like to bond with their Pokémon by playing. Others work together with Pokémon to help society go on. And of course, Pokémon trainers strive to the top by battling each other.

And of course, there's me! The Pokémon Professor of Demanti. My specialty is in studying item usage both in battles and in nature! Pokémon are so much smarter than we give them credit for, and they always have new ways of surprising us! In one of my research papers, I actually-

Nido!

Oh, whoops! I've been babbling again, haven't I? Thanks for keeping me on topic, buddy! Hehe! I just know you're excited to start off your Pokémon journey, so I'll keep this as brief as I can. I know your mom filled out most of your paperwork for you, but there is some stuff that I need you to fix up for me. Just the usual stuff, photo, preferred name, height and weight, all that good stuff.

But enough of that boring stuff! Your journey is going to begin tomorrow morning, and I can't wait to see you!

——————————————————————————————————

I've been working with a Fakemon region for a while in my head, and while I don't have a real fleshed-out thing to present to y'all in terms of a full doc or the like, I figured it'd be nice to try to get more of my writing out there aside from Fanservants and stuff.

The Demanti Region is geographically based off of Russia, and culturally is mainly based off of Slavic mythology as a whole, with the three starters being based off of myths such as the Bolotnik, Rusalka, and Lady Midday, the legendaries being based off of Chernobog and Belobog, and much of the evil teams' schemes being centered around trying to take the power of Demanti's legends and use them to reshape the very world in their own image.

If folks are interested in this, I'd be happy to share some more ideas I have/am writing. So far I've only got a handful of stuff written down like the aforementioned Professor Laurel, the two main rivals(one of which is written by @300iqprower), the main protagonist, and the Elite Four. I also got the Regional Fossils, two Eeveelutions, and the final evolutions of the Starters.

It's been a while since I tried working on this story(before I even joined Tumblr) but I hope y'all like this little snippet.

[bueris]

homebrew necromany

[in the afterlife, it is a barren grassland with only a few rocks poking above the grass, there is a mountain range in the far distance but they do not seem as if they wish to be reached]

bue: (kicking a rock) boo, this is boring I thought there'd be more fire and brimstone. what a cop out

[there is no reply, no voice answer back and even the wind doesn't blow]

bue: (sigh) well, there's no point in staying in one place... hmm, those mountains are pretty, might as well check them out. (begins to walk towards them)

[the landscape changes rapidly, the grassland becomes a valley, flat ground shifts into steep slops that are populated with thistle and tough grass that pricks at bue's ankles]

bue: (flailing) woa- whoa! almost fell there... (looks down) oh? what's this?

[bue crouches down to pick up a tattered poster, she takes the torn edges between her fingers and is immediately drawn to the face of her twin printed next to her own]

bue: (muttering) wanted... dead or alive... bounty of 1.3 million galactic credits.... what?

[bue flips the paper around several times, trying to find anything else. faintly a shimmer of text of another universe inscribed on the back glints in the overcast light. it is nothing like bue had ever seen before, but they could understand it nonetheless]

bue: (confused) "I'm sorry, I tried, I swear. I tried to stop us I really did. - R"... who's R?

bue: (worried) what does it mean..?

[with a concerned face, bue folds the tattered poster into quarters and tucks it into their pocket. hesitant, she continues into the basin of the valley]

bue: (quietly) it's like the lake district... I suppose dying isn't that bad if these are the views you get... still those mountains...

[the snow caps of the mountains are distantly visible from over the other side of the valley, the distance has not changed and it is still far]

bue: (downcast, eyes facing down at her feet as she walks through the brush) I hope girlfriend fc is okay, we were in quite the predicament from what I last gathered... oh @riririnnnn, @hooudie212, @someprettyname I miss you already, it's so scary to be so far from you...

[bue finally reaches the stream that bisects the bottom of the valley, it's weird to think such a little stream once cut through the valley's rock, but bue supposes time can change anything]

bue: uh, do I just wade? what if it's like the Styx or something... I don't wanna be caught lacking, what would the people on instagram reels say? (shivers)

bue: I don't think I have a choice...

[with a squeak, bue wades into the stream. its gentle current laps at her ankles and seeps through her cleats and she shivers at the feeling]

bue: (looking down) huh?

[the pebbles at the bottom of the stream start to transform, ordinary little rocks expanding in ways that violate reality to become half recognisable mementos]

bue: oh....

[a journal is flicked open by the current and it washes away the writing on every page, a yellow rose, a phone, a futuristic looking gun, and odd shapes bue could tell represented something all warped themselves into the stream bed, pinned down by rocks no matter how easily they could be swept off by the current]

???: (kindly) so you chose to move forward? I'm glad.

bue: (incredibly shocked) JINGO RAICHI???

[raichi is dressed in peculiar ways, draped in cloth that bent reality itself with an uncharacteristically calm smile on his face]

raichi: yes, I suppose you know me by that

bue: what are you doing here?

raichi: helping you, obviously?

bue: ..."helping"?

raichi: you asked for it, no?

[bue stares at him in disbelief, what in the world is happening??]

raichi: the river, you stepped in it.

bue: there was no other way across?

raichi: you wanted to find a way forward and that is enough for me.

bue: (worried) 'kay...

raichi: have a seat (snaps his fingers)

[a rock pops into existence behind bue, pressing on the back of her knees in such a way it makes her sit down, across from her raichi takes a seat on a rock of his own]

raichi: to move forward you need to let go of what is old, you see those things in the river, yes?

bue: ...mhm...

raichi: you remember what they mean, right? so tell me

bue: well that journal was from the worst time ever, it was a very dark time-

raichi: (hums and nods)

bue: that rose, I hurt someone... the phone was so much and... I don't know what the gun means, sorry...

raichi: baby steps. you need to let them wash away

bue: what?

raichi: wash them away, let go

bue: I'm not holding them?

raichi: spiritually, you dumbass!

[bue flinches at the sudden yelling, but that was much more raichi-like. he pinches his nose in frustration but with a harsh sigh he seems to calm down]

bue: (hesitantly) well, um, I grew from the journal I...

raichi: go on

bue: well, I'm different now, I used to be so miserable... not just my feelings, I was a total downer and I only saw the worst in everything... sometimes I think I still do...

raichi: but do you want to?

bue: no! of course not!

raichi: then put your faith in the best, it's as easy as you make it

[bue sits in silence for a moment, thinking about it. it hits her eventually, it might be hard at some points but being more positive was as easy as catching bad thoughts and replacing them, she really could just do that]

[the journal flips to the last page and disintegrates in the water, carried away by the current, bue looks at raichi with surprise]

raichi: easy, right? now the rose.

bue: I hurt someone, I'm sorry for it

raichi: okay and?

bue: huh?

raichi: yeah you hurt someone but your inaction keeps you from moving on

bue: oh... I can't... really talk to her anymore. I know I was wrong and I don't ever want to do that again but I don't know what to do

raichi: I'm not going to absolve you of guilt. but if you can't do anything except change, why are you still letting it take up that much space?

[bue's breath hitches, she looks at the rose and thinks of all the good that came from it, promises to be better, wishes "her" the best and watches as the flower is delicately torn apart and carried off by the current]

raichi: the phone?

bue: same as the journal, really

[the phone disintergrates]

bue: what about the rest?

raichi: do you have the determination to keep going? to live despite it all? to live with love in the centre of your heart?

[they fall into silence as bue tries to unravel whatever riddle raichi wove]

bue: yes?

raichi: do you really?

bue: (brows furrowed) yes.

[every amorphous rock, stone and pebble drifts away and leaves only the gun behind]

bue: (pointing) what about that?

raichi: remember how you were twins with @riririnnnn in a past life? that is the link between that life and this one. you almost destroyed the universe together, can you come to terms with this?

bue: yes

raichi: you'll do your best to control yourself and become the best you can be?

bue: yes

raichi: (nodding at other side of stream) then cross

[cautiously, bue walks over to the far bank, only stopping to look back at raichi only to find he was no longer there and neither were the rocks they sat on. bue makes a note to get raichi something nice when she gets back]

bue: (happily) oh!

[bue crouches again to pick up girlfriend fc jersey, instinctively she pulls it on]

[the memory of her first time at gf fc replays in her head as the shirt goes over her face. a sunlit room and a sense of belonging were all the remained when the shirt collar settled against her collarbone]

[with determination, bue began to walk up the steep side of the valley, set on making it to the mountains]

bue: (exhaustedly) phew, what a climb!

[bue looks back on their climb, she hadn't felt like she'd travelled far but when she peered down the stream seemed a million miles behind her]

bue: (to herself) to the top...

[bue continue to climb the slope, dragging herself all the way to the top where she could see the mountains that had gotten closer. so close in fact that bue could reach out and touch them]

bue: (touching the mountain) whoa... cool...

[snow fell onto her wrist as she brushed the frost covered grass close to where uncovered rock met the snow cap]

bue: (earnestly) I'm not done yet, I have a lot to live for and I will continue to live in the best way I can. I will be ambitious and loving, I promise.

[bue grips the tuft of snow covered grass and shakes it firmly.]

[her vision goes pitch black and the cold feeling of snow creeps up her arm and stretches all over her body and she shivers. it felt cramped like she's been shoved in a box and there was something stuck to her forehead uncomfortably]

bue: cold!!

[struggling, bue reaches to peel off the sticky thing on her forehead but in the cold box there is no light to see what it was. blindly she gropes around, pushing in every side until one side gives out. light blinds her as she tumbles out of the freezer and on to the girlfriend fc headquarters kitchen]

bue: (happily) I LIVE!!!!

[she skitters out of the room to assess the situation and hopefully find her family]

[rain-upon-forgotten-blades]

hey group, what’s your surrounding regions like?

Hey there anon. I’ll be answering the question for today since MRI over there is busy trying to get a hold of ends. So. The surrounding area is like a large plain. Or a grassland. There’s a couple of mechanisms and ruins scattered around, but otherwise it’s free rein for animals. I’d say it’s pretty boring, but I guess it’s because I see it everyday. As for the others, I’ll have to go off of what the-

SIA : Don’t worry about it, simple organism. I can answer that question much better than you ever can. So! My region is a pretty neat rainforest. It’s a bit boring right now, so I won’t be sharing any images, but it glows while it’s raining! I believe the term is “bioluminescent”. Pretty cool huh? As for the others-

Labyrinth lives in a nice large tundra. His can is located near- or should I say in- a large sinkhole. It’s pretty unstable, but not for long! I’m not sure about ends location, no one is I’m pretty sure. Too far away. So no picture for him, sorry! He’s pretty secluded for an admin. Anyways, these next two are pretty far away, so we don’t talk to them often. One of them, memories, lives in a mesa. Lots of mineral rich water. Clearing used to live in a desert, but it looks so covered in structures I don’t think I can call it that anymore.

There’s probably more people in our group that we don’t even know about. Last time I checked my files, we were supposed to have two more members. But I don’t really know. Oh well. Anyways, you’re welcome anonymous!

this.. was supposed to be my question? Why are you so passive aggressive today??

[silver-wield]

what is your personal rating rebirth so far out of 10? (at the chapter you’re currently on)

Well, I'm only about 10% into chapter 3 in the mines and tbh so far I'm not impressed.

The graphics aren't that remarkable when you think about all the games produced now. FFXVI had stunning scenery too and more detailed rendering.

I think the thing that's grabbing all these reviewers is the comparison to OG. Which is stupid because that's a nearly 30 year old game. Ofc Remake is better looking.

The combat is good, but tbh they're starting to put too much into it. We've got blocking to activate synergies, but only some of them because the others are through the menu and you have to stop to see if you can use them rather than go through short cuts. Then there's the regular abilities and then you've got magic, limit breaks and so on. It's got cluttered. It's like they wanted to do combos but didn't want to put them in the regular ability list. The way Yuffie and Sonon did it was better.

Then you've got transmuting shit you pick up on the road, which is boring and I hate it. There's sp and weapon adjustments which is pointless and makes no sense after Remake had a better version. And the skill tree just sucks. Aesthetically it's ugly and messy, and the way it works is just awful. Idk who made that, but it's bad. I hope they don't use it in part three.

There was too much filler to do in the grasslands, and saying we can go back whenever doesn't negate that point. There's just too much boring filler shit to do at the start of the game. The sidequests were fun, but all that activating towers and following birds was boring AF. It was just a way to fill in the map.

The story is fine, but as I said I'm down a mine, so I haven't got far.

Tbh so far I'd only give it a 6/10 and most of that is because Tifa's in it 😂

[chickenparm]

Trivial Lessons Pt 3 (ScaraLumi)

Scaramouche isn’t as worldly as he thinks he is. Lumine is the only one he’d considering learning from.

AO3 LINK Previous Part | Next Part (To be posted)

Scaramouche/Lumine 1,859 Words - SFW No heinous tags - just a mountain of fluff and Scaramouche getting the physical affection he deserves.

---

Scaramouche expected his request to be put on the back burner. It’s suited for a project that Lumine can fiddle with occasionally, entering his space infrequently to send his mind spinning and his nerves buzzing with far too much nervous excitement to be considered healthy. 

Loneliness doesn’t have the spare moment to begin settling on his shoulders before he’s dragged from its clutches. It would be well within her right to push the matter down on her list of pressing matters, yet as he follows her out into the jungles of Sumeru while marveling at how deftly she hops over root and vine, it’s obvious that he’s risen higher on the list than he ever could have expected… though not for wanting. 

And that very want clutches at the bottom of his lungs, making it difficult to breathe as they make it to a flat section of grassland. The trails of her cape whip with how she turns to face him, walking backwards with her hands clasped behind her back. Even blind to where she’s going, she seems to be so sure of her own footsteps. 

“Sorry it’s so sudden. I know you’ve probably got better things to do than follow me around-”

“I don’t.” Scaramouche responds smoothly, as if he were stating that the skies are blue and the grass is green. For the first time, Lumine nearly stumbles over nothing at all, though she rights herself easily before Scaramouche can even think of reaching a hand to steady her. 

It should be concerning that he's so willing to enter her space on instinct, but it’s all he’s thought about, even before their little agreement. The notion of pressing the pads of his fingers against her skin brings a shortness of breath he’s only ever experienced in his lowest moments. To have it be associated with something that lingers so sweetly is something new and exciting.

As with any pleasant feeling, Scaramouche greedily wants his fill.

Unclasping her hands, she reaches to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. The tips of her fingers brush against the plush of her cheek, pressing in just enough that Scaramouche can catch the lush give of it beneath even a gentle touch. How softly would he need to run his fingers over it before she wouldn’t give way? How delicate could he be?

Hands that have forgotten nearly everything but violence clench at his sides. Time is what he has in abundance now, and it’s best used unlearning habits that are no longer conducive toward his goals. What he aims for now stands in front of him, a surprised little smile on her face. 

“Well, at least you won’t be bored?”

Once, when she’d given him a place to call his own in her home, Scaramouche told Lumine that he would always be honest with her. Others might not receive that same courtesy, but the unnecessary lengths she’d gone to for his sake without asking for anything in return have proven she’s worthy of that. 

It’s with this resolution in mind that his tongue darts out to wet his lips, unnecessary with the thick humidity in the air that coats everything, and rebuffs, “I don’t get bored with you, Lumine. Not now, and not before… this.”

His hand gestures vaguely between them, an offer for her to fill in that prevalent blank with whatever her mind suggests first. It could’ve been their alliance that had once started out tenuous, but lingered worrying close to a dependency he’s ill equipped to rebuke. Or, perhaps he might have been referring to how she’d promised to guide him in something that she was well within her rights to scoff at. 

Both of the answers would be correct. The way her cheeks flush into a pretty peach color tells Scaramouche which one she’s picked - and he can’t complain when her attempt to hide her smile by biting her cheek is a failure. 

Business comes first, despite how he wants to explore the reasons for exactly why Lumine reacts the way she does. The commissions she’d taken on were laughably easy, something she certainly didn’t need his help for. But existing in her presence feels exactly how the air had tasted on his tongue the moment his feet had touched grass for the first time. Crisp, clear, centering when the world is unfamiliar and terrifying. 

Guiltily, he relishes the sensation as the sun hangs lower in the sky and the great tree of Sumeru City looms above them with its sprawling foliage. In its shade, the city feels cooler than the claustrophobic heat of the jungle beyond its walls. The temperature grows cooler as they descend into its roots, beneath where the sun can reach and warmth instead comes from the friendliness of those who frequent the Grand Bazaar.

Not so long ago, he counted himself as one of them. Even with the memories firmly in his mind, his body still feels foreign compared to those who pass by. Zubayr Theater is a hotspot of locals, even though no performance is happening today. Instead, the redheaded little dancer from that very morning approaches in clothing that’s far more casual than what he’s witnessed during her shows. 

“Thank you, Lumine! This helps so much, what a relief.” Nilou makes a show of her shoulders slumping for but a moment before her poise returns. Some payment is exchanged in a satchel that Lumine doesn’t even bother to count, rather she tucks it away in preparation for what she seems to know is coming. 

Nilou’s arms fling around Lumine’s shoulders, squeezing her happily as she stands on the tips of her toes. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do in return. Oh! We’re holding a show this weekend, all three evenings. You should come by if you have time!”

“Wouldn’t miss it, Nilou. I’ll shoot for Friday.”

And Nilou positively beams as Lumine returns the embrace without hesitation. The two of them make a pretty picture - gold and red, the white of Lumine’s dress and the azure of Nilou’s draped clothing. Despite this being an act of two, rather than of one, Scaramouche’s eyes linger only on the actions of the Traveler. 

The ease that she returned Nilou’s affection makes something foul and familiar twist in his gut. Not for the first time in his life has he felt envious - it’s lived in his veins since the moment he had something to covet. Whether it be a friend, a family, a heart, a reason for existing that others seemed to find so easily… Scaramouche understands jealousy intimately. Lumine’s fingers pressed into the fabric of Nilou’s back, her smile wide, her joy clear enough that someone like him with only a foggy grasp on that level of happiness can still understand it. 

When they part, when Lumine falls into step beside him as they make their way to the upper levels for that evening’s dinner, she finally broaches how he’s fallen into silence that’s more consuming than his normal placidity. At the crook of his elbow, her fingers curl tight enough for him to feel through the brace, and she asks, “Want to talk about what’s bothering you?”

No, he wants to blurt, because it’s embarrassing. 

Mortifying that he wants something so… primal. Affection, physical touch, but only from the one person that he could stand to spend any amount of time with. It feels too selfish to demand of her, though Scaramouche is far from benevolent and generous. In another life, one he’s lived before, it would have been so easy to cock his head to the side with wide eyes and ask if she’d treat him as she’d done with Nilou. 

But hadn’t he already done that? In fact, he’d initially requested more. Something this simple shouldn’t bring this debilitating level of shame, enough to make his limbs feel weak and his skin heat. The tunnel to the upper levels is dark enough to hide his flustered state, and perhaps it’s the dimness that gives him the courage to ask, “I want a second lesson.”

“Well, alright. I didn’t want to move too quickly, but if that’s what you want.”

Emboldened by Lumine’s immediate agreement, he bends his elbow to bring her to a stop, trapping her hand despite Lumine making no move to break away. With a steadying breath, he pushes himself over the ledge he’s terrified of. “Can I hold you like that?”

Lumine, always quick to pick up on his meanings, tips her head to the side and looks at him with infinite patience. “Like with Nilou? Are you asking for a hug?”

Yes, he is. But despite the certainty, he can only nod mutely. The bravado is gone beneath her scrutiny, as good-natured as it may be. With a gentle tug, Lumine turns him toward her and steps close enough that the toes of her shoes brush against his own. Even at this distance - so close that he can feel her warmth through the layers between them - Scaramouche’s chest clenches with a need so strong it’s almost worrying. The overwhelming pressure feels unbearable.

“Do you want to hold me? Or would you rather I hold you?”

“I didn’t think there was a difference.” 

And her quiet laughter doesn’t feel like the slap in the face it would have if it came from anyone else on this plane of existence. Instead it has a similar sensation to what he assumes it would feel like to be on the receiving end of the same gesture he’d just observed. Safe, warm, addictive.

The hand on his elbow steadies him, even as his thoughts threaten to race away uncontrollably. Slowly, deliberately even, she explains, “Of course there is. I think it’s simplest to describe it like this. Do you want to protect, or be protected?”

“I can’t choose both?”

“Not always. How do you feel right now, in this moment?” At the crook of his elbow, where the guards turn to fabric to allow movement, Lumine’s thumb passes along skin that’s sensitive enough to feel the movement intimately. “For the first time, how about you let me make you feel safe? Next time, you can decide for yourself.”

Next time. That one little phrase echoes in his brain, louder and louder in a cacophony that bangs against any thought that might have formed in the interim. Its silencing only comes from Lumine looping her arms beneath his, palms at his shoulder blades to pull him closer. Pliable at her behest, he lets her position him exactly where she wants - chin on her shoulder, chest pressed to her own, arms hesitantly looped around her waist. 

Slowly, with more confidence, his clinging grows tighter until he’s certain it must be uncomfortable. But Lumine doesn’t waver, only laughing under her breath and smoothing a hand down the curve of his upper spine, then back up. At his cheek as it presses against the pulse at her neck, Lumine’s heartbeat thrums, lulling him into uncharacteristic peace until his eyes flutter closed in appreciation of such bliss.

Lumine’s heart races freely, fluttering like the smallest of birds in his ear. 

[akmu-archives]

[140410] ['Raise Your Voice High!'] Article by Woman Chosun

As the lyrics of an anime theme song goes, the two brother and sister musicians who are ‘not pretty but lovely’ have returned. Suhyun and Chanhyuk, the behind-the-scenes stories before and after their debut as they became Akdong Musician.

Do you remember the sibling duo Akdong Musician who came from Mongolia? These two friends captivated the audience two years ago with their unique lyrics, unconventional looks, and kind voices. They recently released their first full-length album and revealed their inner selves through an essay. From homeschooling in Mongolia to becoming real "celebrities" after the audition, listen to their story.

Ugly?

Akdong Musician's appearance has as much "impact" as their music. First, they don't look like identical artificial humans, and second, it's surprising how cute and lovable their slanted eyes and protruding mouths can be. Above all, they're firmly against cosmetic surgery.

"My nose is very small. People send me pictures of flat-nosed ugly dolls, saying, 'Suhyun, there's someone who looks just like you.' But what can I do, even I think the ugly doll’s nose looks very similar to mine! One day, President Yang Hyun-suk also laughed and said, 'Suhyun, your nose...?'. I was surprised and stood there, and he said, 'It's really cute.' That's a relief. He didn't say that I'm ugly like everyone else does, but that I'm cute because my nose is small." (Suhyun)

Chanhyuk has been wearing glasses since he made it to the finals. It's not because he has bad eyesight. He thinks they are the 'high point' of fashion in their own way. He also says that they are like a frame that brings out different aspects of himself and captures them like a work of art.

"I wear glasses because I think they make me look much cooler on stage, but also as I want to look a little more like a musician than I do now. At the age of 18, the word 'musician' still doesn't feel familiar to me. [...] Of course, my eyesight is as good as a Mongolian eagle, so glasses are just the accessories on my face. What I need is a frame to put my image in. At some point, the number of frames gradually increased, reaching 40. During that time, I met a variety of people and showed myself over 40 sides of myself." (Chanhyuk)

Have You Ever Tried Homeschooling in Mongolia?

Two years ago, Akdong Musician was in the spotlight with their unique music style and unconventional looks. A columnist at that time interpreted their free-spirited musical world as "the bottom line is free-range." It's true. How could the emotions of these two who rode horses and ran through the grasslands while being homeschooled instead of going to school and attending academies be bland? It is undeniable that their out-of-the-box thinking was the musical nourishment of Akdong Musician.

"It didn't take long for me to realize that not going to school is not all good. If you avoid doing something just because you don't want to, it becomes even more difficult! [...] In conclusion, studying at home is a dozen times harder than studying at school. [...] What I realized after dropping out of school is that school isn't such a bore after all. How ironic!" (Suhyun)

Chanhyuk, who had an ordinary school life in Korea until the 5th grade of elementary school, found himself in the situation(?) of attending MK School in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia the following year. However, his worries were just temporary. It was only a matter of time for him to adapt to Mongolia, the land of Genghis Khan and the grasslands.

"My Dad wanted to come to Mongolia so much that he persuaded my Mom for five years, convinced us by telling stories about Mongolia. My parents came to Mongolia with a 'missionary' purpose, but I followed them without knowing anything. It was the same for Suhyun. [...] The landscape of our family's travels also changed. On weekends, when the uncles I knew came to pick up my family to go play in the meadow, we would get in the car and drive through the field. It was as if the earth was round, I ran and ran across the fields as if I would meet the whole world if I kept going forward." (Chanhyuk)

Dad, a warm and friend-like presence

'It was a sight that I couldn't have imagined within the framework of what I understood about Chanhyuk. I realized that I had misunderstood Chanhyuk before.' This was what Akdong Musician’s father Lee Seunggeun said in an interview with a daily newspaper. It seems like the father was quite surprised by seeing his son's lively presence on TV. However, if you listen to Chanhyuk's story, you can see that it is his father's interest and love what makes him who he is today.

"In truth, all this time, I've been writing novels and composing music just to see my Dad feel happy. Every time, my Dad would look at me with eyes full of expectation, which gave me infinite courage. So I wanted to work harder, more and more, to do well every moment. […] My Dad's compliments are filled with sincerity. In the past, his praises were just at the level of 'Good', but this time, he pointed out specific things about each part of the song I sang, like the finishing touches were good, the sound was good, and so on. My Dad said he was living alone in Mongolia, and would watch the parts we appeared in repeatedly at night when he came home. On my dad's SNS, there were posts about me every day.

'Amazing, amazing, amazing.'" (Chanhyuk)

Dreaming of Music

A girl dreaming of Berkeley College of Music, a boy who didn't even know he had a talent for composing. The younger sister with a clear dream and the older brother who couldn't figure out his future were unknowingly sharing one intersection called music. Moreover, since they are siblings bonded by blood, there couldn't be a better compatibility than this.

"Is there any place on this planet where you can't go even if you say you want to? Even if it's a difficult place like Berkeley, I wouldn't cave in. I thought that one should always aim high when it comes to college or dreams, and Berkeley was the highest goal I could reach. When a goal had been set in my mind, I would draw a picture of it." (Suhyun)

Unlike Suhyun, who said she would go to Berkeley College of Music no matter what anyone said, Chanhyuk unknowingly had music ingrained in his body. He learned the guitar watching his dad, who played it so well that his hands were full of calluses. Then, after listening to a song composed by an older brother he knew, he thought, 'Should I give it a try too?' And that became the beginning of his composition. As his family continued to encourage him, Chanhyuk realized. 'Ah, I guess I’m good at something too.'

"Since I started composing, I have welcomed a new life. They were just songs I made just as they came to mind, yet they were met with reactions from my parents that were truly 'big bang.' Especially after dinner, my Dad said he wanted to hear our songs as a dessert. [...]

When I opened my eyes to music like this, melodies that were hiding somewhere inside me came out of my head as if they had found an exit. It seemed like there were so many songs hidden in my heart, since wasn't it true that I had had a lot to say all this time? Some days, I even received song orders from my friends. "Don’t cross your legs, how about that?" (Chanhyuk)

I Want to Become a Hardworking Genius

"It is said that a genius cannot defeat a hardworking person, and a hardworking person cannot defeat someone who enjoys what they do. Effort is always a necessary condition for success," says Akdong Musician.

"Before, I didn't know what it meant to work hard. I thought it was different from just doing what you like, that studying was what it meant to work hard. [...] A hardworking person must succeed. That's what makes the world fair! It is said that everyone in the world is born with some amount of talent. To make the most of that talent, you've got to work hard. [...] Only by putting in effort would you become something in the future. I am optimistic about my future. I love my practice room more than anything else, as if it were my own home!" (Suhyun)

YG Entertainment, home to Big Bang and 2NE1, became Akdong Musician's new home. In their early days, they attended concerts by Daesung of Big Bang, who was also known within the team for his entertainment skills. On that day, Chanhyuk confessed that he saw a 'charismatic' Daesung, not the 'funny' Daesung. Witnessing firsthand how Daesung captivated the audience made him realize the tangible results of hard work and sweat.

"After <K-Pop Star> was over, while we were still swept up in the excitement of victory, Suhyun and I went to Japan with CEO Yang Hyunsuk and Lee Hi. It was to attend Big Bang Daesung's concert. Perhaps because we went with the CEO, our seats were in the VIP section on the second floor. [...] To sum it up in a word, I was literally in 'brain freeze' mode. Until then, our stages had always been modest and small. It was the first time I fully felt what it truly meant to dominate a stage, and what it meant to communicate with fans." (Chanhyuk)

Source: 악동뮤지션의 못 다한 이야기

[joshuawister]

Warsaw Spy Mission 1978: Chapter 1

Story Untold from Cold War…

Warsaw Spy Mission is a story set in Eastern Europe 1978, about campus life and humanities. It focuses on Warszawa, Mazowieckie (PL) and Pryp'yat, Chornobyl (aka Chernobyl, UA) under Soviet occupation… both the cradles of Slavs.

(Tumblr version of light novel series "Warsaw Spy Mission 1978" on https://commaful.com/play/jw2019/)

Delo 1: Ruin

-Somewhere in Poland-

There are many men digging the earth. These years, the Polish government has been eager to dig the ruin - for the discovery of its history.

The grassland was full of men wearing poor clothes, but a luxuary car came from over there. It’s called Lada in black. The black car stopped near the director, and opened the door. A lady got out of it, and the director shouted.

“Guys look, Lada is coming!”

The name is her name, not car’s.

“Don’t call me by first name, Polsky!" (meaning 'Polish')

“Sorry... Comrade Afanasyeva!”

She looked upset in contrast to her dull looks with black hair, and asked the director.

“Tell me the truth, did you find the bombs here?”

She asked in fluent Polish. The director was worried to answer, looked around and chose the words seriously.

“Tak, the bombs are found here, so I think that we’d revise the plan of construction.”

“Never change the plan since it must be a proper instruction as long as the committee decides!”

- Warsaw, the capital of Poland

The campus of Warsaw University is located in front of the Presidential Palace, nearby Praga district on the bank of Vistula river. The streets look dull and some old monuments were chipped, and people are forgetting there was a royal palace different from the presidential one. The interior of the auditorium there’s decorated by a long red banner, and a portrait of Edward Gierek, the First Secretary is put on the wall.

The course beginning here is the Slavic history and archaeology.

“Imagine that our great ancestors made great history. Remember Slavic people were a family and now got tied firmly…”

The lecture still continues.

“Under the flags of the Warsaw Pact Organization…”

A girl listening to that was about to fail on her face. Then a boy behind her poked his finger then called her in a lower voice.

“Hey Katarzyna, just keep you awake!”

“Shhhh. What if they find us snubbing?”

At that time, this city was the place of the signing of Warsaw Pact Organization led by the Soviet Union.

“But I’ve heard this campus is free from the Secret Service.”

He passed a note to Katarzyna. Wouldn’t they get interested in the professor's lecture?

“KGB is an exception, their hands can reach anywhere from Moscow,” it read.

“Well, I won’t waste life again as dad did…”

They suddenly heard professor shouted,

“You two, seem very restless. Come and see me after the class. That’s all for today.”

The class is over, after the other students got out with leaving the two, the professor beckoned.

“Katarzyna and Boleslaw!”

They imagined what punishment they’d receive.  

“I expected some not interested in such an ideological lecture, don’t you think so?”

Hardly answered Boleslaw,

“I just tried to wake her, for the class. Please let me go…”

“You misunderstand something, certainly you disturbed the class. But it’s true that my class is boring though. Isn’t it Katarzyna?”

Then she answered,

“My father was an archeologist, and he’s never heard of the Warsaw Pact. This word has nothing to do with archeology nor our history.”

Professor drummed on the table and said, “well”.

“If I was born a decade ago, I’d agree with you… Perhaps, you’re interested in the true archeology not ruined by Bolshevik.”

Then he showed her a piece of ���copied’ old paper.

“I’ll give you a week. Translate this thousand-year-old document, or try to contact anyone who can read it.”

The students looked at each other. Katarzyna looks very admired.

“Interesting homework…”

The professor still worried to tell them what,

“Frankly, I thought this should be lectured in the class instead of Party propaganda, as you think. This copy is my present for you.”

Katarzyna studied the paper, but it’s not written in the alphabet she knows.

“What’s this strange script?”

“It’s an ancient alphabet called Gligoric, but we’re banned from even reading it anyway.”

Boleslaw said thanks to receive it, and added the question:

“Then why did you keep us here? I thought we would be kicked out of the class ‘cause of disturbing your lecture.”

But there’s no answer but professor just leave some words as advice, 

“When you go out for some fieldwork, take care of yourself, remember this; Though our mother Poland won’t shoot 'cause of deviation, but then see the hands of KGB everywhere.”

Listening to his wording, Katarzyna felt this document is something like prohibited literature.

Delo 2: Call of Polesia

-Pryp’yat, Chornobyl (Ukraine), 1978

The forest covered the secret city known for hi-tech.

I’m aboard a bus at the southern checkpoint on the road to Pryp’yat. Though narrow roads are closed by the boom gate, it’s always crowded by cars.

“Stoy! Park your car and follow the instructions!”

Driver passed the paper.

“It's AN(Academy of Sciences), well you’re good to go!”

The bus passed the inspection. I called a professor on my front seat.

“Pardon Dr. Viitol, can I have a minute of your time later?”

10 km distant northward from it, Durova was in the command room of the Duga radar station,  just with old-school military antennas. When she looked at the monitor, heard a beep from her pocket.

The city provided a mobile communication network for simple text messaging.

“Found an informant, see you tonight at No. 227 Hotel Polesia, from Dr. Viitol”

She promised Dr to accompany, but Dr says the informant is a stranger.

Hotel Polesia, Pryp’yat

Tonight, I lured a Soviet IT expert to my room with Western tech info. I met her at the Palace of Culture for the conference of new technologies to improve the economy. Anyway it’s a great chance to study the clue for “their” mysterious activity in the academic field through the conference.

The city was founded a decade ago, the closed city built for the electricity and military demand.

The view from this hotel is great to see the silhouette of huge reactors over there.

Here she came, the name’s Kroot Viitol majored in informatics. I read some of her achievements reported by the Zvezda newspaper.

Her office is over there seen from this room, westward away, ongoing construction. I know the Jupiter factory she’ll work for is a secret military electronics manufacturer since documents read when I was in the Air Force.The mother plant in Kyiv produces chips for avionics and radars used in prototype fighters I tested. Or perhaps, for rockets?

This room is No. 227.

“Hi comrade, good to see you.”

“Dr. Viitol, how’s it going? Your contribution to the lunar rover Lunokhod is great.”

“So the Academy awarded me a medal to praise it, thanks.”

“Oh I have some questions, just about some computer systems for the military...”

Dr. Viitol made a cynical smile on her face.

“Wait, I don’t know where you are from.’

“I come from Baikonur, Kazakh republic. I’m impressed with your contribution to the state-level computer network…”

Baikonur is well-known as the cosmodrome, or spaceport.

“Sorry to say, I used to work in Baikonur for a long time, but I never see you… isn't it strange?”

Then Dr. Viitol took a pistol. I reacted as quickly as she did.

“Don’t deceive me, no one was on the invitation list for this conference from Baikonur... You must be a spy!”

I shot at the gun in her hand to disarm.

“By the way did you remember me, Dr? We’ve worked together for MiG-23 fighter project… And you sold me to the KGB!

Dr. Viitol shut up for a while, and stepped down without saying but,

“Valentina… the rumor was right that you really left the Soviet Union?”

Suddenly the door of my room broke with someone knocking it out, and I heard an officer shouting, then I remembered the voice.

“Who’s there? Dunno shooting is a crime?”

The two accused me of 'collusion with enemies' in the line of my test-pilot duty.

“Lt. Durova... I remember this great boffin and you, who obeyed the KGB attempted assassin plan on me. Let me go or shoot her.”

I caught Dr. Viitol and took her as the hostage. Then Durova shot at me with a silenced assault rifle with scope.

I shot in response to Durova's bust.

“Aghhh”

It hit my shoulder so I let Dr. Viitol go and just ran away and jumped out of the window, but some hit her skin.

“Alert, an enemy spy!”

Just after I left, Durova tried to rescue Dr Viitol.

“You’re about to kill me!”

“Sorry, aimed and avoided hitting in need to save you…”

Astonished though her damage was far less than Durova’s.

“Lieutenant, you bleed a lot… let me call the ambulance!”

Dr took her mobile phone for  the emergency call '103'.

“No, my rank is Major now…”

The Hotel parking

I managed to take “the taxi”, and the driver asked her for a countersign when riding.

“Hey, when’s the first year for the Hall of Fame?”

“In '36, I'm Tina!”

Then he tossed her a baseball cap. The taxi quickly got out of the hotel area, then a line of smoke and roaring from a hotel window.

“Oh hurry, a rocket is coming!”

I saw Durova still standing by the window of No.227 with her rocket launcher and she’s full of blood.

Then heard her voice says:

“Smyert’ shpionam blyat (Death to spies shit)!”

The car escaped on the city boulevard northward, I heard full of gun shooting.

"Tina, a tank is on the road!"

“That tank’s old enough to use RPG rocket here!”

I put the launcher bipod on the roof to aim at the tank outside.

“It’s a T-62, an old type!”

Then I fired it as Durova did.

“Slava Ukraini (Glory to Ukraine)!”

The moment I pulled the trigger, the launcher flew away from recoil.

That launcher hit a Soviet UAZ jeep chasing us and it got a flat tire.

“Bang!”

The jeep exploded when crushed into the wall at full speed.

The T-55 was running, and hit then stopped without burning.

Along the long boulevard, we saw an endpoint with a waterfront.

“That’s the Pryp’yat riverside, get ready out of here!”

The car stormed into the wharf of a river port, I jumped out of the door when the car flew up.

Dive into the river running nearby the city, both two swimmed and floated on water.

“Oh shit…”

“Let’s wait for an ally ship to pick us up, just like a triathlon.”

This river goes through the land of Polesia with the cities of Belarus and Poland.

“But where should we go?”

“Embassy in Warsaw... if we survive hundreds miles more!”

Then a boat heads to us…

-To be continued

[carelessflower]

Malec wedding Scene

The golden sand streched meeting the ocean, they have rented a private area of the beach for the next few days, one for the wedding, and parties. Magnus and Alec danced slowly, as the song I get to love you played, all eyes were on them. Helene and Aline sitting next to each other, hand holding.

Mark was failing at making balloon animals for the little ones, Tavvy and Rafael were bored.

Magnus and Alec kissed once more, as the song changed.

"I love you Magnus Ligntwood Bane."

"I love you too Alexander Gideon Lightwood Bane." Magnus kissed his husband, bringing him close.

"TEAM MALEC." Simon yelled.

"Malec?" Alec eyed him, his arm wrappes around Magnus waiste.

"Magnus and Alec...Malec it makes sense better than the other name ideas." Simon stated, Alec noticed that the kids were bored, except for Max who was playing with what was supposed to be a flower ballon but it was just flat ballons.

"Kids, we are going back to the hotel for food." Alec called, giving Mark a small smile.

"There were all worms dad." Rafael huffed.

"Uncle Mark tried though."

He ruffled his sons hair.

"Can we go in the limo." Raf and Tavvy spoke, as Max was now bashing the balloon against his dad's arm and making roaring noises.

"Yes, go ask your granddad, and Tavvy ask your sister Helene." Most of the kids followed Alec up the stairs, he noticed that Magnus, Stanley, and Charlie and a few others were by the rocks.

"Congrats on being married." Hannah smiled at him, as he returned the small smile.

"Thanks. Oh Hannah I was wondering what is it, that your family does. Like I guess your royals, but it feels different, like there is more?" The question being in the back of his mind as he first met Magnus's dad when he was a young teen.

"Its a family secret?" Hannah walked towards the car, Alec quickly followed behind.

"But since im part of the family -"

"Okay, you know how the world opperates, so basically we get,unlimted tech, unlimited data, we get knowledge and access to other countries and sometimes when problem rises we sort it, sometimes we dont. Its like the mafia except no one knows who we are, we opparate in the background, money comes to our country and we run the globe.

There was still more questions.

"I dont get it. If your like the Mafia then how - "

"We control it, okay. Jobs and positions get passed just like the crown. Asmodeus is 17th in line, making Magnus 18th. However with the mafia positions can change, and we can go to places and govern areas. Like what Belial did in London in the 1980s." A red haired male said, Alec didnt remeber his name.

"Can you call the others." Hannah suggested, getting in the limo, sighing he turned back, and headed towards the beach.

"Alec wait up." Jace jogged over.

"Oh hi Jace." Jace bumpes his shoulder.

"Im so happy for you man. Youve come this far. Anyway I need your advice. Im going to propose to Clary, what do you think?"

"Go for it." Alec smiled, as Jace nodding his head, and running back to their car.

"Come on guys." Alec called.

Magnus kissed his husband once more.

"So honeymoon, where are you lot going?"

"Bali."

"Wow! Charlie exclaimed.

"So Magnus and Alec." Felix stood in front of the couple smiling.

"We got a superise." Stanley exclaimed.

Felix got out a key and handed them over to Magnus, looked up at them with an confused look.

"The island that we own off Costa Rica, well the family that work there are on vacation, and its empty we think you should go, since you havent been."

"Island off Costa Rica?"

"60 miles from Costa Rica. Travel by boat. The island is huge. A range of mountains, grasslands, and also we have houses and a park. Its nice, the animals are kept in their enclosure and the zookeeper will be ther-" Stanley was cut off as Raziel pulled his arm.

"Come on. Dont keep us waiting." He huffed, as Stanley pushed Raziel gently before running away as the others ran towards the steps, with Raziel walking behind them.

The house key was warm in Magnus's hand.

The couple looked at each other.

"One more trip?" Alec stated, as Magnus nodded.

so cute and fluffy

[zerolittlewriter]

Today I wanted to make a short story. My father said it kept readers on edge and would make them more interested, he liked this one so I'll be adding this to the library... Enjoy.

Apology accepted

Upon the stars is a child made from the sun and the moon, the child's name was Ilias. Ilias was sheltered from the over world, as the sun and moon didn't want Ilias to fall victim to ill intent. But the parents were fools, as children were smart and Ilias was a curious one.

Ilias had snuck away and flown down to the land of green, it was vast and beautiful, nothing but flat fluffy greenery. For a while, Ilias wondered, they flew around as they pleased looking for any sort of life on this land that was called earth."How boring...what did sunny and moony freat over so much...? No one is here--" as Ilias turned around to fly up to their home a boy had appeared, right before them. "Hello..." the boy waved his hand slightly and his smile was that of someone who was unsure. Ilias tilted their head like a curious puppy, the boy stood there star struck for a moment after realizing that Ilias wasn't human. "You're very pretty, you're like the stars in the sky!" The boy cheered, it startled Ilias and the boy stopped, "sorry.." he whispered, "it's okay.." they replied.

Time had passed and apparently the boy was from a small village near the plains, which is what humans called the fluffy grasslands. The boy had said he was from the wealthy part of the village, which made sense, he had brown short hair that was well groomed, he was always clean even though he seemed to be the outdoorsy type, he wore a white button up with a black bowtie, and some dark brown shorts with white socks that stopped right at his knees, and some black loafers to seal the rich boy deal. His name was Henry, Ilias had started to like Henry a lot.

Ilias started to visit Henry often, usually when their parents weren't looking both of the children would go see the other during night fall and enjoy their company. "I saw you coming down!" Henry said as he ran towards a slowly floating Ilias who he opened his arms greeted with a warm embrace. "I saw you running a mile away." Ilias had a very sleepy voice, their eyes droopy and they looked as though they were dressed for bed, but in elegant wear, the two matched each other only well. "My father says today is the day we catch a beast!" Henry said, he was eager as he placed Ilias down. "A beast? Of what sort?" They tilted their head perplexed, "that I don't know, all I know is that this will be one of my coming of age party!" Henry bounced and twirled, this only confused Ilias more as they did not celebrate such things like mortals did.

Henry couldn't really explain it well but he tried, when someone turns eighteen years old they are ready to truly face the world on their own, they hunt a beast, choose where to cook, where to eat, and where to bathe in the blood of that beast. "This takes two months time, by then you have finally proven you are of age." Henry looked at Ilias with a small smirk suddenly "this will also mean that, if you want, you may be--" , "you're spouse?" Ilias interrupted, "well--" Henry stumbled "well..." They continued to poke at him even with his sheepish reaction. You see the two had fallen for one and other a long time ago, Henry fell when he first saw Ilias and Ilias fell when Henry talked about his stories and adventures. "I'll... Think about it.. How about tomorrow we change our meeting spot?" The boy inquired Ilias didn't think much of it and agreed. "You'll meet my father and if he approves of us then we shall be official after the two months of my coming of age!" Henry was confident his father would agree and Ilias hoped their parents would understand as well after all, they would be a fully bright star soon themselves.

Ilias had great news for Henry, not only did Ilias's parents agree they also would give him a blessing, and something so powerful as that was amazing blessings granted everlasting youth, which is why one would be so excited to receive such a gift! Ilias started to day dream as the became no more and the moon rose, shooting stars, horses across a grassy field, the blessing surrounding Henry so elegantly, it all-- tap, tap, tiptaptiptap, "Henry?" the sound of Ilias's voice stops the sudden disturbance, but this leaves Ilias cautious. "H-Hen--" suddenly a hand appears behind them and pulls them into an ally, their instinct is to panic but a voice is what calms them down "shh... Don't. I'll explain in a moment but please calm yourself I made it out only by a hair..." Henry says, barley above a whisper as he drags them away from the open area.

He eventually let's them go and Ilias being flustered is an understatement, "what is your issue?! Why would you do that? What's.. What's happening?" Ilias looks at him hurt, scared and confused, this night was important to Henry why would he-- "you are the beast." Henry stares at Ilias with not a single bit of hesitation he utters out "you are the beast, and I am supposed to capture you today, lure you here and chain you down, take your life, eat you, and then bathe in your blood." His eyes began to water, "Ilias... This happens every eighteenth years... A child from the moon and the sun is born, named and blessed with that light of a star.. T-they.." He starts to crumble, his voice becomes weak and he struggles to hold on. Ilias quickly holds onto him, "what.. Do.. What do they do.. Henry..?" Ilias says their eyes dripping as their tears start to coat the two, "they eat the children, the children of the stars are eaten here.. Every.. Eighteen years.. For the village to gain power and youth.. Your beauty..all of it.." He pulls away slightly, looking them in the eyes, "we're fallen stars.. That's why you're always able to find my village.. Why I am able to find you...we're connected.." Henry looked at them with an apologetic look, the blessings.. They were a peace offering to spare Ilias's life and let them go.. "I.. I didn't know.. I promise I didn't.." Henry pleaded, he fell to his knees he clawed and grabbed at the ends of Ilias's clothing, as if he were scared they'd fly off and never return. "I'm... I won't do it.. I'll never eat you.. I'll never bathe in your remains.. Your love and care is all I ask for.. Please.. Please I beg of you don't leave me.." Henry continued to beg he bowed on the ground, he felt disgusted with himself, was that why he was so drawn to them before? Did he truly love them at first? Did he love them at all? "Henry... I'm not going to leave you." Ilias stated their smile soft as they sat on their knees, they comforted him, petting him on his head gently and lovingly, they placed his head on their lap. "You didn't know... And now you do...the people here are horrible...but, we can break that cycle." Ilias stated, "will you stay.. Or will you leave with me?" They offered. "Y-yes.. I'll leave.. Leave with you.." Henry Sniffled and as he started to sit up, that's when he finally noticed... Ilias was crying.

"..." Henry watched as Ilias stood up and helped him up as well, they flew away from the village quickly and stood where they met when they were kids. "Hey, ... H--Henry?" Ilias called out, their voice already weak. Henry fell to his knees slowly as Ilias gently sat him down, his wound continued to pour, it was so dark.. That alleyway was so dark they didn't see until now.. "Yes... Ilias..?" Henry layed down, Ilias layed next to him, they looked at the sky as the night breeze blew across their skin.

"Sorry..." They whispered, "it's.. Okay.." He breathed out one last time.

Hmm... This was rather long I'll work on that. Father said he wondered how Henry got hurt, I told him it's a secret. But I think it's obvious who did it. What do you think reader?

Nov 2, 2023

[abirddogmoment]

Will I ever tire of posting pictures of grass? Unlikely.

[honey-milk-depresso]

The Magic Student in a Magicless College (1)

The reverse AU, where the MC (Yuu / Y/n but I’ll use Yuu-) is the magic kid and what happens to our dear magicless students of NRC.

I think I might continue this series, but like- later- enjoy this one first! ^^

**TAG IS LABELLED TWST AU MAGICLESS NRC

Well that was surely unexpected of someone just teleporting out of the bathroom toilet-

And chasing after a fire breathing cat- holy crap-

The rest of the students gathered in the Assembly Hall lost their marbles and scrambled in a frenzy panic, with Yuu casting (and cursing) spells at the runaway cat (?), their spells almost hitting a certain redhead.

Ace, after the incident, came walking over to Yuu (who was accepted regardless of the mess they have caused) and Grim (the new class pet- /hj), confronted them about almost burning his uniform.

Ace was just your regular basketball player in the school’s team, and his other friend, Deuce, was in the Track and Field club. 

Jack has never heard of beastmen before, but he admitted he was into werewolf horror movies from old CD movies he pops in. (Imagine Jack, Leona and Ruggie without animal ears- holy shi-)

The Adeuce combo (and perhaps a lot of students-) asked Yuu many questions of what a magic school is like, referencing magic academy, fantasy books they read by authors of famous fiction.

“Do they have owls, cats or frogs required in school?” “Do you guys really play ‘Quidditch’?” “Have you flew on a broom before?” “Do you guys use wands?” Question after question made Yuu wonder how the world they are in now view magic as such... argh...

Dorms in this magicless NRC are quite funny to you. They are just big campuses with no twisting staircases, floating vases, aquariums, grassland or big thorn vines. They were just regular dorms in this world.

Yuu stayed in the vacant and small room of an unused floor in the dormitory of Heartslabyul where it was said that it was haunted. Yuu scoffed, stating they have seen and fought ghosts before, triggering the interest of their friends.

“SO YOU’RE LIKE GHOSTBUSTERS?!”

What now-

The magic student’s, well, magic and broom sure came in handy in many situations: Doing dorm spring cleaning very quickly, helping Trey bake with more convenience with your magic taking care of other ingredients, rushing to classes with Adeuce and Grim on your fast flying broom stick, pranking the professors, and just a whole lot of fun.

The fun tricks and knacks students adapted in the college without the use of magic fascinated Yuu with the incredible amount of creativity the students have, wondering if they could apply so back in their own world.

There were some subjects that were unfamiliar and familiar to the subjects they have back in Yuu’s world like Chemistry was like Alchemy, regular PE games like badminton was far different from broom flying class. History here is so different from the prodigy wizards Yuu have learnt in Magic History, and Hall Period was seriously unnecessary-

Something tells me Yuu is going to have far more fun in this seemingly boring world. At first sight at least.

Reblogs help! ^^

[cultgambles]

Nearly a Blip in Time

I love historical sukuna so here i am. Also i am lowkey so confused at his story. Like i know he was a sorcerer at one point in history but like when did he get all his arms?? BC according to the wiki he was killed and then became a cursed spirit and then his fingers were waxy (lol weird choice of word) ?? anyway, in this, hes not a people hes a monster.

He’s also OOC. first time writing for JJK, but i wanted something soft hehe. Reader bites the dust

Wc: 3033

Masterlist | Requests? open

“[Y/N], you can’t be serious. No way a person of your . . . stature . . . could research in depth about something as big as Ryomen Sukuna. In fact, I’d wager that you wouldn’t even get within 5 feet of his temple,” the local teacher scoffs, disbelief plain as day on his face.

“You wager? What if I do get within 5 feet, then? Will you take me in as your student?” You cross your arms, staring him down. “Do you accept the challenge? I mean, you said it to begin with.”

The scholar throws up a hand, blowing you off. “Fine, whatever. You have half a year to write an in-depth dissection of the demon lord Ryomen Sukuna, and you will report your findings back to me at this very hour once your time is up. I expect perfection.”

“And if I win?” You ask, writing down every word he has said.

“You won’t die.”

“And?” You shoot him an unamused glare.

“And I will take you in as a student. God curse your father for teaching you to read and write.”

“He knew it would be beneficial for me. Now, sign here so you don’t try to cheat your way out of this,” you thrust the wood block and paper attached towards him. The scholar grumbles, almost breaking the ink brush in the process of writing his signature.

You carefully tuck the contract under your arm and scurry off, not before telling him you’d be back.

His laughter echoes around you.

At home, your father was amazed and horrified to learn of this deal, but he knew nothing could stop you. You gave him one last hug for the time being and gathered what little belongings you had in a knapsack.

“Don’t worry, father, I’ll be back before you know it.” His warmth lingers on your person, seeping into your bones. You’ll miss this.

Sukuna’s temple isn’t far from your village, in fact, he was revered as a protector of some sorts. Perhaps one quick to anger and that changed on the dime. It was a couple miles up the mountain where the snow thinned in winter and where the flowers bloomed in the spring. You’ve been to it only a handful of times before, once with your father, and several with the other village ladies. A yearly tradition, you suppose.

The temple is always well kept, the torii gates painted a pristine red, the surrounding area swept and neat, no dust to be seen near the wells or on the floor. Some, like the scholar you had made a wager with, merely believed he was a spirit, a demon of imagination. Others, like you and your mother, really believed in his existence. Before it becomes too late, you decide to scope out the area and set up camp a ways away from the temple so as to not disturb him. You briefly wonder if he was here or away at some other village. Would he be wreaking havoc? or be somewhat kind and spare the folks living there? You decide to set up your small camp under the camouflage and protection of the trees, maybe fifty feet from the river. You’d be much happier to stay at home, but the paths could become treacherous for a young thing like you at night. Maybe a little bit of the great outdoors is what you needed, anyway.

Almost a week passes before you ever have the hint of seeing the demon in the flesh. It’s on one of the days where you bring a small offering. Not much since you can’t exactly go home and cook a nice meal every time, but usually a flower crown or other type of decor.

When you do see him, however, time slows to a crawl. You swear your legs feel like jelly as he glances down at you. Sharp-featured and arrogant, beautiful, all man. He stands tall, towering above you. He has to stoop to reach the depths of the temple from the doorway.

“Well, well,” he croons, “what do we have here?” His four eyes are the color of what flows through each being and his canines sharp as knives. Truly, he’s beautiful, sculpted muscles rippling under inky black tattoos, blazing red eyes.

You bow deeply and straighten your shoulders, gaze still downcast to be respectful. “I just wanted to make this offering to you. I know it’s not much, but I hope you will find it useful.” You raise the small gift above your head, feeling his gaze roll over your body, sharp nails lightly scraping against your skin, grasping the wreath.

“Peculiar,” he says. His thumb and forefinger tilt your head up and you struggle to avert your eyes. “What’s your purpose here, little human?”

“I made a bet with the town scholar. I’ve to write about you and return with my findings so I can become a real student there.”

“A student, eh?”

“Please! I’m fascinated by you,” you plead, feeling his grip on your chin tighten.

“I’m intrigued, if only slightly,” he muses, releasing you harshly enough you’re forced to regain your balance.

You soon learn his ego is massive, that’s probably the only reason he spared you. He’d just love something written about him, wouldn’t he? Ever the gracious god, he lets you stay in one of the temple rooms. You had offered to take one the furthest from his own so he could have plenty of space, but he put you up right across from his instead.

Something about you being near to always capture his persona. Whatever.

Life at the temple is never truly boring. there’s always something going on; whether someone bringing gifts, like an unlucky human sacrifice, or some warriors barging in thinking they could actually harm the demon.

Sukuna likes you watching him tear apart these people limb from limb the best. The first couple times you couldn’t stand it, but it soon became a natural occurrence. Sure, you felt bad for those folks, but they never came truly prepared.

“What’re you writing now, pet?” he asks you one day. You glance up at him. He’s wringing the blood out of one of his sleeves, the blood drip drip dripping to the floor in red rain.

“I’ve noticed you like toying with your prey. If you’re in a good mood, you’ll let them think you have the upper hand,” you tell him.

“And if I’m in a bad mood?”

“Slice them in half!” He nods. His black nails gleam in the sunlight and you watch a pair of arms reach up behind his head as a cushion as the other balances to sit next to you.

“I really like how the trees change color in the autumn,” he says nonchalantly.

“Because they’re the color of blood?” you offer. You draw a small leaf on your paper’s corner.

“Maybe. Their lives are so short, unlike mine. Not that I’ve been a curse for too terribly long.”

You bite your tongue. Is it lonely? bounces around in your head.

“What will I do when my little scholar leaves too?” You flush and stammer that you still have a couple months. Sukuna pauses in thought, then, a sinister smirk gracing his lips.

The more you get to know him, the more you realize that he’s much more bored with life. Killing random people stated his boredom and gave him something to do, it wasn’t until later that he learned to revel in it. The more you got to know him, the more you didn’t want to leave.

He taught you, too. Weird things, usually, but still, useful things. He wasn’t all that good a teacher, but he was patient and expected you to figure shit out on your own. Sometimes he took you down to the market and showed you how to best barter.

And to steal.

Other times, he would sit and watch you cook silently. He always says your cooking wasn’t crap, so you just take it as a compliment.

Six months have passed since you first climbed the mountain. Sukuna finds you in your room packing what little belongings you have.

“That time already?” he muses, leaning against the door. You hum in acknowledgement. “What if they don’t even accept me?”

“Then you’ll return, of course.”

“That’s a nice thought.”

Of course, little did you know, but to Sukuna, that was a command.

He didn’t just watch your figure walk away, no, he followed silently behind, taking in the way you’d stop to study a particularly interesting tree or follow the clouds.

Your village is still the same. Same rickety well, same sunken houses, same sort of dreariness when you left.

You make your way towards the school house, it’s kind of near the back of the village, backed up to the lush forest. “I’ve done it!” you call, standing tall. “Not only have I been within 5 feet of his temple, I’ve been inside. I’ve had actual conversations with the demon Ryomen Sukuna.” You fish out your copious amount of notes and dissertation, shoving it in front of you.

“I’m surprised,” is all the teacher says, “give it here.” You hand him the documents, and he flips through the pages.

“So?”

“So what? For all I know, this could all be made up.”

“What? It’s not! How would I make up his favorite fruit or the way he likes his meat cooked? Papaya and rare, by the way,” you cross your arms.

“Then you should have brought him down with you.”

“You called?” his deep, rumbling voice cuts through the silence.

“S-Sukuna? What are you doing here?”

“I told you, pet, you’d return to me.”

“Sukuna-sama!” the scholar bows. “This is all a misunderstanding, their findings were great! Very convincing!”

“Give them to me.”

“Yes, sir!” he wails, pressing the papers to the other’s chest.

“You didn’t think he would actually keep that bet, did you?” Sukuna asks you.

“Well, I was hopeful!”

“Aw sweet,” he mocks you lightly. “You don’t need to be surrounded by such inferiors. Come now.” It seemed just a snap and somehow the scholar’s head was lobbed off.

You nod dumbly, barely processing what exactly just transpired. Did he kill him? For you? Surely there must be something in it for him.

But the way he holds out one of his four hands for you to grasp sets a fire in your heart. It’s small, no grassland bonfire, but a smolder that you know will become a steady heat.

His hand is rough and calloused while yours only has a few bumps from holding your ink brush so tightly and for so long. Sukuna leads you back to the temple, guiding you back into the room you stayed before.

“Why,” you ask him softly.

He shrugs. “You’re amusing to me. I like the silly words you use.”

“So you like my company?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he chuckles, running a hand over your head.

“Hey! You’re gonna mess up my hair!” you giggle.

“Don’t worry, next time it will be because your head will be atop my bed.” Shameless. Truly shameless. “Just keep writing about me.”

Somewhere in between you returning to the temple and now is when you find yourself tangled in his sheets. Two of his arms wrap securely around your waist and hip, another caressing your cheek. If you’re being completely honest, it seemed as if he adored you. He never coddles you per say, but anything you’d mention off hand, he would remember. An object you wanted, or even that you wanted to take a bath later that day. Sometimes he would even brush out your tangles for you.

You’re surprised by the normality of it all, how he’s gentle with you, unlike others who dare to cross his path.

Waking up together is a part of your daily routine. (Every morning, he gives you a quick kiss on the forehead.) (You trace the patterns of his tattoos lazily.) You’d ask him about you and him sometimes, and he always responds that he’ll always keep his little one happy, that you belong to him. Sometimes, in the back of your mind, you wonder if he’s actually being truthful or he’s just passing the time. Maybe the truth is a little bit of both, but you’re happy anyway.

He likes holding you, the two of you sitting by the river in the flowerbeds, watching nature for hours at a time.

Other times, he lets down his walls in the four corners of the temple. Every time he comes home smelling of blood and decay, you drag him to the bathroom and run a hot bath. Your nimble fingers glide through his hair, stopping to pull out leaves and scrub away dirt from his skin. More often than not, he would pull you in with him, your laugh ringing in his ears like bells.

But happiness must come to an end.

Apparently.

It’s a weekday when it happens.

Sorcerers.

They come in doves, feet stomping like drums.

“I guess they’re tired of me wreaking havoc, hmm?” he muses.

“There’s a lot more than usual, are you sure you’ll be alright?” you whisper softly, cupping his cheek.

He holds your hand there, leaning in and closing his eyes. “Who do you think I am? Of course I’ll be fine. You will be too.”

“Okay,” you watch him leave, a familiar aura of danger seeping in like a thick fog.

But it’s not okay.

Someone finds you and they drag you out of the temple by the hair. You’re thrown to the ground harshly.

“What, a little harlot? That demon won’t bother saving you, don’t even look at him. You’re nothing to him,” the sorcerer tells you, pressing a steel toed boot to your throat. You’re gasping for a breath, any.

“Obviously you think I’m worth something since you’re dealing with me,” you struggle to voice.

His nostrils flare, eyes wide. “See you in hell,” he snarls. You’re feeling everything and nothing at once. Surely the wound in your chest as you bleed, but you can’t seem to think of anything good or bad. You’re clutching your wound, sputtering. As if sensing you, miraculously, Sukuna turns in your direction as his fist rips through someone’s chest. Faintly, you hear a roar of anger, and then the screams around you are deafening.

The dozens of sorcerers that tried to defeat Ryomen Sukuna lay at bizzare angles, each in their own pool of blood.

It’s this horrible humorless laugh, his open mouth desperate and hungry like he wants to devour the world in punishment for taking the one true thing he held dear to him. The last piece holding his humanity together. He doesn’t know how you even got out of the temple, that’s definitely not where he left you. You’re staring blankly ahead, but he notices your hand gripping the pendant he gifted you.

Sukuna sighs, kneeling next to you, holding you close to his chest. He doesn’t know what you would have preferred: whether to be buried or cremated, and there’s no point now. Ultimately, Sukuna places you in a bed of flowers. He makes his way back to the temple, stepping around the bodies that litter the floor. Maybe he can threaten some laymen to come clean up the mess.

When he returns to the main room, the first thing he notices is the shelf with all the books you loved. Papers strewn everywhere, pages bent.

Your findings about him on the top shelf are gone.

That’s not something he realizes until much, much, much later when he’s ambushed after terrorizing another village. It’s been years without you, and yet he still feels anger of how you were taken from him. He promised he would protect you, at least, in the sanctum of his own mind, never voicing it to you. And yet, he’s failed.

Your coping mechanisms suck, you’d probably say if you saw him now. But I’ll write it down anyway, and we can cross it out later, if you want.

Like your death, he’s not even sure how the sorcerers managed to defeat him.

His twenty fingers cut up, separated through time and distance. Dormant, for now.

—PRESENT TIME—

“Oi, brat, ask that blindfold asshole what those are.”

“Ask what are what?” his host, Yuuji Itadori quips.

“Over there, on display. The books.”

Yuuji hates to admit it, but he’s curious too. How important are they to be kept here, and in a glass case, no less? Anyway, he hardly ever gets to see cursed objects in the flesh.

“Gojo-sensei! What are those!?” he shouts.

“They’re books, don’t you know what a book is?”

“Okay, yeah, but what’s their use? Like, why are they here?” Yuuji pulls at his hair.

“Hmm, they’re written by a [Y/N]. Long ago, not much information about the author, but the writing is phenomenal. And all about that little curse inside of you,” Gojo smirks, running a finger down Yuuji’s forehead and bopping him on the nose.

“About Sukuna?”

“Pretty mundane stuff, if you ask me. I’ve been told the sorcerers that defeated Sukuna used those texts. Not sure how ‘he hates when food offerings have tomatoes’ was useful, but apparently it was,” he shrugs, looking at his watch. “Ah, would you look at the time, I’ve gotta go! Pressing matters with a special-grade. And the candy shop I want to go to closes in 30!”

“Later, sensei,” Yuuji waves. “You don’t like tomatoes?”--silence-- “What, no response? You’re suddenly shy now?”

Sukuna hears him, and ignores him as per usual.

So, my little scholar’s books were stolen, huh? Here, all this time?

[maybe-theres-hope]

Of Will and Wildflowers, Part 3 (Final)

It’s here! Thank you so much to everyone who encouraged me: @oquinn53, @reyeslonestar, @howtosingit, @a-l-ias, @mtnofgrace, @descending-into-the-crazies @pragmaticoptimist34 if I forgot anyone please let me know! 

Special thanks to my husband for reading this and making sure all my typos were gone :)

Tarlos | period drama/grudging acquaintances to lovers | Part 3/3 | This part: 10,877w | Total: 33,427w

Part 1 | Part 2

Read on AO3

Mr. Strand,

I hope this letter finds you well, and that your journey home was swift and uneventful. The entire house has been mourning yours and father’s departure since you left us. Mamà is convinced the lights are dimmer without the ambience of your father’s amusing anecdotes. 

Elena has been lamenting the fullness of the house as well. She is easily bored without some new distraction every fortnight, but she swears she will convince you to visit again someday. I dare say we all will thank her if she can manage it.

In deference to our conversation, I will not try. I know you would not appreciate my needling. 

Raquel cannot be bothered with the mundane occurrence of the comings and goings of visitors while she daydreams of castles and knights, so her opinion has not been asked. She still insists on helping Mrs. Smith in the kitchen, and Mamà still insists on having fits about it. 

I must agree with my sister and mother, however. The house is a little less bright these days. Usually we can count upon sunlight and laughter to get us through the day, but those seem fleeting of late. 

Flor misses you as well. She’s ornery when I ride her, as if she remembers a more beloved companion and I do not measure up. We lament your departure together when we meander the grounds. 

Jimena is not often in the stable, so her opinion has not been ascertained either. 

But enough of our melancholy!

How is it to be home? Travel can make us all weary, and you seemed so tired even before you set off. I hope you are feeling better in your own comfortable surroundings. Texas will always welcome you, but I know how good it is to feel your own dirt under your shoes. Please tell me something joyful, so that I can remember your face in gladness.

Your friend,

Christina Reyes

My dear friend,

As I sit beside the fire tonight, I am reminded of our last conversation. I am evermore grateful that you are taking on the no doubt immense burden of being my confidant while keeping our correspondence regarding these matters private from your family. Do not mistake me, if you at any time feel as though your obligation to me is taking precedent over your cherished feelings of love toward your family, please by all means give me but a word and I will cease my incessant pining.

Oh how I pine, dear Christina. There is not a day that goes by that I don’t think of the sound of rolling grass and smell wildflowers where there are none to be found. The city is bleak these days, and dark. What once was a welcome cacophony of life and commerce is now to me a teeming mass of sensation that I can barely stand for more than a moment. I long to feel the shift of earth under Flor’s hooves again, and for the caress of the soft breeze against my cheeks. 

But enough of that for now. You asked in your letter for something joyful. My father has secured a deal with a contractor out West, and his—our line will stretch right to the Pacific, culminating at the coast. A fully developed coast to coast line, my father’s dream. It makes me so happy to see him so elated when he talks of it, and of me taking over it in time. I do not like to talk of him being gone, but it is inevitable he says. Men grow old, and pass on. He says what matters most is that we make a mark on the world we can be proud of, and that we touch people in ways that matter. 

I cannot help but think that I have done neither. 

I apologize again for my melancholy. When I sit to write to you I never intend to make you sad. Please, rejoice for my father and his accomplishments, for they reflect on me as well. I will take comfort in his happiness, and you can take comfort in my feeling it. That is enough for now. 

Your friend,

TK Strand

TK,

I must address the most pressing concern from your letter immediately. You have touched us all, please know that. Please do not think you have not made a mark on the world, for our home would not have been the bright happy place it was while you were here without you to provide that light. Every day is a little darker, as I’ve said before, without you and your father in our midst. 

Everyone is a little darker. Especially my brot

But enough of melancholy, as you said. I am delighted to hear of your father’s immense accomplishment. We are all so proud to be a part of it, a part of the future. I shall like to make the journey coast-to-coast someday on it, to me that would be such a wondrous thing! 

I was wondering, would you tell me what Manhattan is like? I do admit I’ve only ever thought of it as bleak and loud and harsh, but surely folk as amiable as yourself and your father cannot come from such harshness. So please, tell me an anecdote of your days since you’ve returned. I’d love to hear of anything joyful. It would provide a balm to the monotony of country life. 

Thinking of you always,

Christina Reyes

Dearest Christina,

Thank you for saying such kind things. I’ve always felt as if I were on the periphery of life. I’ve skated through it mostly by way of parties and luncheons with people who have little to talk about other than themselves. I’m just now getting to a point in my life where I do want to make a mark on the world. I know I can do that partially when I inherit my father’s legacy, and I intend to do it the utmost justice. But I find myself adrift in that I do have family and friends who love me, however…I do not have a love that speaks my heart’s language. A love that is built of trust and companionship and intimacy. 

Please do not chide me for saying such things, we are friends and I feel I can talk about these delicate subjects with dignity. I thank you for your discretion. 

But yes, as it stands, I have made no such mark on the world, have no such intimacy with which to grow old. I feel that the things we do in life do have a way of defining us, but they are far overshadowed by the people we choose to love. 

In the past, I have chosen poorly, through no one’s fault but my own. I hope one day I can remedy that. But right now I feel, as I said, adrift. There is no one to hold me fast to the world, no one strive to do well for, after my father is gone. And I fear I may never have, as I have ceased looking. I cannot bear it at this moment. 

Forgive me, my dearest friend, I have ignored your other request until now. Manhattan is much as it always is, loud and harsh, as you said. But most days it is a good distraction to hear the hustle and bustle outside my window. I do miss the Park and the promenade, but  lately I haven’t felt well enough to venture out. I keep to my father’s study in our townhouse in Midtown while he visits the office near Gramercy and keeps me informed. 

As I haven’t got a joyful anecdote from the days since our return, I will relate to you one from the past that is near and dear to my heart. When I was a young boy of about ten, my mother—God rest her soul—took me to the waterfront one day when my father was stolen from us with work. We gazed out over the Hudson, and even in my young age I tried to imagine that, just across the water, began the vastness of the North American continent. I used to try and picture what the land was like, what exotic treasures it held. I had never been anywhere, though my father had been to Chicago and Philadelphia numerous times. 

I used to picture rolling hills, vast grasslands, and roaming livestock. I had been told most of the rest of the States consisted of farmland. I had never actually seen a bovine in person, but I had seen drawings. I childishly thought of it as one big zoo where all the animals roamed free, and the air always smelled crisp and clean. I imagined it was beautiful.

Funny thing is, I know now that that little boy of ten was at least partially right, at least about one particular place among that vastness. 

I hope I have made you joyous,

TK Strand

My dear friend,

Your letter has made me joyous, in some ways. I wish you could have seen our home with childlike eyes, but alas I think it was better suited to you as you are now, and I’m glad you have experienced it and that it was to your liking. It truly means the world that you think of it as beautiful.

However, I have cause for concern where you have mentioned you have not been out, that you are unwell. Pray, please let me know how you get on, we all worry over you so. I happened to mention that excerpt of your letter at dinner, and I fear I may have incited a frenzy. I am humbly asked by my siblings to enquire after your health. Please tell us what ails you, so we can worry properly, and send up our prayers. I know we cannot do a thing for you, as far apart as we are now, but you are always in our hearts. 

Mamà tells us that our business with your father is nearly finalized. I look forward to a ride on the line, hopefully with you as my guide. I must make the journey near winter, for I long to see snow. I’ve hitherto only read about it in books, a delicate powder that falls from the sky and blankets the world in white. How marvelous a sight must it be! 

Be well,

Christina Reyes

Dear Christina,

As for your family, please tell them I am alright. I did not wish to frighten them or you, and I’m sorry for that. Please trust that our cook keeps me well with sandwiches and fruits when I am able to eat them. Everything is well when father is around to take up my time with business discussion, and as I said I am well distracted most days by the cacophony of the city outside. 

I will venture out soon, I think, as my friends and acquaintances grow weary of my absence and I have left them all to their own devices for quite long enough, I suspect. I presume to know what they will want to discuss—an incident that took place just before our trip to Texas—it will be a drain on me to talk about it regardless. But I cannot put them off forever, I love them too much to deny them my company when they wish for it. Perhaps I’ll take a walk with one of them tomorrow, even if the air of the city is not nearly so keen and invigorating as the air of the country I have run from.

Please give my best to your family, I hope I have not caused anyone undue grief. I will only talk of happy things from here on out, when I eventually find them. 

With affection,

TK Strand

P.S. I believe you know deep down what truly ails me, so I’ll not speak of it further lest I lose all dignity. 

*

Mr. Michaels, the butler, stopped TK on his way to the dining room, handing him a card on a tray. He read it and smiled. “Miss Marwani called on you earlier, I told her you hadn’t yet come down. She left her card.”

“Thank you, Michaels. Will you send her a message that I’ll be free after luncheon today? I know it’s been so very long since I’ve made time to see her.”

“Yes, my lord. I dare say all your friends and acquaintances have been calling on us nonstop since your return home. But I trust it’ll take you a moment to get back into the swing of things after…your trip.” 

TK smiled sadly. He knew what the butler was going to say before amending it. He’d been an absolute wreck after finding Alexander and the footman and had left for Texas only two days later. The entirety of the household and all of his friends must think he’s still in a melancholy state because of the slight. 

If only they knew the truth. He might tell some of them, but only a select few he could trust. Michaels was a good man, and hadn’t overstepped. He’d practically raised TK since his father was so busy with the rail when he was younger. He knew the man was only looking out for his happiness. 

“Michaels?” he said before turning to go on to the dining room for breakfast.

“Yes, my lord?”

“If you were faced with a time limit on a decision that governed your whole life, would you wait until you’d found the right solution? Or would you take the first viable solution to come along?”

TK knew that Michaels knew exactly what he was talking about, but was too polite to call attention to that fact. “I think if it were me, I’d examine every detail of each choice before deciding on the one most beneficial to my life in the long run. After all, some decisions are for a lifetime.” With this, he gave a small reproachful smile to his once young charge.

“Yes, well. What would you do if you’d found the right solution, but it turned out to be impossible?” TK’s eyes looked up in earnest at the butler, whose expression had turned kind and commiserating.

“I do hope you don’t think you’d found the right solution to this problem just before your departure?” It was obvious Michaels thought Alexander was far below TK even before the scandalous tryst was revealed. 

“No, no. Nothing like that,” TK reassured. He was pensive for a moment, caught in his thoughts of rolling pasture and wildflowers, their scent dancing across his senses even from miles away. “I thought I had found the right avenue during my time away. It seemed a nice thing, a wonderful thing actually. I daresay my hopes were quite built up for a time. But in the end it proved, as I said, impossible.”

Michaels gazed at his young master for a moment, unmistakable pity in his eyes, but TK didn’t comment on it. He was too miserable. 

“I hold the utmost confidence that the right choice is out there for you. But, my lord, you will never find it unless you leave this house eventually. I am glad you’ve decided to start breakfasting in the dining room again, and I know that if you do go out later today your color might begin to return. I worry for you, my lord. I hope I am not impertinent to say so.”

“No, no Michaels. You’re not impertinent. I know I’ve been ghastly to be around these last few weeks, and I do hope to remedy that. To begin…moving toward the future, no matter how much I wish I knew its contents.” TK gave the butler a sad smile before turning away again, the weight of all he wished for still on his shoulders and bright, luminous brown eyes on his mind, no matter how much he wished they’d fade.

*

“I know you’re still mourning Alexander and his licentious ways, but I promise you, you can do much better. His family isn’t even that well connected! He’ll be a faint stain on your past and nothing more.”

TK looked over at his friend, the navy ribbon on her silk evening bonnet getting caught by the light breeze weaving through the Park. Her dark eyes held an intense shine as they often did when she went on a tirade. He let himself smile at her ability to be both vicious and diplomatic.

“Marjan,” he chided gently, “his family owns three quarters of the orange trees in the country! I wouldn’t say he’s not well connected. Half of Florida bears his family name in some capacity.”

“Oh, to hell with that,” she spit delicately. TK was also impressed by her proficiency in cursing with a velvet tongue. “Then he should be sent off to oversee them. Rid this city of his stupidity. Even further! Florida is too close, send him to the West Coast! Let him disappear. Society will be all the better for it, mark my words."

TK was brought up short by the mere mention of the opposite coast, since thoughts of that region gave in to thoughts of a certain eligible bachelor which gave in to thoughts of his intended that TK desperately wished was his own intended and—

It must have shown on his face.

“TK, my friend, trust me. He is nothing of consequence.” Her voice had turned gentle again, not the outrage on his behalf she’d been spouting for the past few minutes. TK could not help connecting her statement with his thoughts, even if she was off the mark at the moment. 

“I know that. It’s not him that unsettles me; he is firmly in my past and I shall not revisit my temporary lapse of judgement in giving him even a small parcel of my affection.” He patted her hand that rested in the crook of his arm as they walked leisurely around a small fountain, the sound of bubbling water serving to soothe his psyche for the time being.

She was silent for a moment before she tugged them to a pause on a semi-crowded knoll. “Then, pray tell, what has you so blue? Ever since you returned from the South you’ve been distant. I thought at first it was just lethargy left over from the long journey, but it has been over two months! I fear I shall never see you smile again as before. Please tell me what troubles you? Is it your father?”

Marjan was a close friend, and as such, she was privy to some news about his father’s health. The man wasn’t in immediate danger, but TK had confided in Marjan that his father had taken to being more…forceful in his demands that TK take a more active role in the business. He had a persistent cough but no fever as of yet. The doctors did what they could to alleviate the annoying ailment—as his father called it—but they all knew Owen Strand was beginning the downslope of his life. At nearly fifty years of age, he was nearing the last stretch of life expectancy and sometimes TK could see it plain on his father’s face. It made him apprehensive for the future, not to mention the fact that still stood: he had to marry before he could take over the business. 

And that thought brought him back around to his other melancholy. For if the desired recipient of his affection would return said affection, he’d be happily married yesterday. But alas, it was not to be. 

He dreaded a letter from Christina detailing an engagement. He knew it was coming soon, and he’d tried to resign himself to it. Perhaps she wouldn’t even tell him. After all, he’d asked as much of her. Nothing of Carlos, none at all; that had been his request. 

“It is, partially, my father’s health that concerns me,” he said as he came out of his thoughts and back into the conversation at hand. “However I…”

“What is it?” Marjan asked when he refused to speak further after trailing off into silence. “What makes your heart ache so? I can see it in your eyes that it is your heart that is broken. If it was not Alexander, then who?”

Trust Marjan to read him like a book. 

“I met someone. In Texas. Oh, Marjan—“ he paused a moment and could not help a smile crawling across his features at the thought of his week spent in bliss, before it all came crumbling down. “He is the most wonderful, kind, and beautiful creature I have ever met. At first I thought him a cad, as our first meeting was less than cordial. But upon learning why he felt as he did, I was persuaded to understand and to admire his candor. He spoke of his home with love and deference, and it was such a treasure to be shown the land with such a companion.”

He closed his eyes for a moment and pictured the apple orchard. Marjan caught his flush and smiled.

“And so? When shall we expect an announcement?”

TK’s smile quickly dimmed to a grimace, now tasked with completing the story.

“An announcement will not come, I’m afraid. He is betrothed to another. I found out on our second to last night in Austin, and I must confess I did not handle it well. I made a complete fool of myself and I’d like to never repeat it by seeing him again.”

“Wait, he did not tell you he was spoken for? And he courted you just the same and let you think you had a chance?” Her voice was angry and TK sought to soothe it with the truth.

“Truthfully, he never actually courted me. We were thrust together by circumstance, and he was a perfect gentleman throughout. It was I who read too much into each interaction, each conversation, each dance held in his arms. It was I who was a complete fool to let my feelings show on my face to all his family when they all knew nothing would ever come of it. I feel so stupid, Marjan. I practically begged father to cut the trip short. But…” he paused again, thinking of the dust kicking up behind Jimena’s hooves as Carlos rode out to meet their carriage after they’d already set off. The small bud of Indian Paintbrush was still blooming in a jar of water next to his bed. 

“But?” She prompted. 

“There were some moments where…where I could swear that he…but it was obviously a trick of my imagination. His betrothed is a marvelous gentleman, beloved by all, and he would be a fool not to accept an eventual proposal. As I said, it is well and truly over and out of the question that my pursuit would yield any happiness.” 

Marjan was silent while they resumed their walk, her hand steady in the crook of his arm. Eventually, she spoke softly. “Well, I must admit I am glad this melancholy is not on Alexander’s account, but I also must admit I am saddened by this turn of events. I know you to be a perfect gentleman, and I have always wished you could find someone as wonderful as you to share your life with. I know you’ll do great things and I know you want someone to share those triumphs with. If this man is who you feel is perfect for you, why not fight for him? It is not in your nature to give up so easily.”

“That’s just it, Marjan. He is perfect, and honorable. Which is why I could not jeopardize his honor by asking him to abandon a promise he made before he met me. I would never forgive myself if his good name was tarnished.”

They walked in silence until the end of the lane, where they turned to leave the Park and hail a carriage back to Marjan’s home up the avenue. 

*

When TK returned home later in the evening, Michaels stopped him in the entryway and held out a tray. “This came for you while you were out, my lord.”

TK took the proffered package and stared at it in confusion. The return address from from Christina, but usually all she sent were letters. This parcel was still small, the shape of a single letter, but thicker. It weighed little, giving no clue as to its contents.

“Thank you, Michaels. Is dinner set already? Do I have time to change?”

“You should, my lord. I shall call for you in about half an hour. Your father is in the parlor already, if you wish to check in with him, now you’re home.”

“Was he missing me? Did he need something?” TK wondered, a little worried. 

Michaels smiled. “No, my lord. He was actually quite content all day, and was happy that you’d gone to call on Miss Marwani. I only say to check in because he probably hopes to hear how happy a time you had.”

TK smiled sadly. He knew he was worrying his father with his refusal to leave his own rooms for the past weeks. It saddened him further that he could have possibly made his father’s condition worse by stressing him. He vowed to himself to make a better effort to get back into real life sooner rather than later. After all, as he’d told Marjan earlier, there was nothing to be done about…Mr. Reyes. That was well and truly over, in fact it had never begun. There was no reason to pine after a man who did not do the same for him. TK was worth more than that.

Yes, he must convince himself of that, and quickly. 

“Alright, Michaels. I’ll change quickly and meet him. Thank you,” he said with a small nod. Turning to ascend the stairs, he started to unwrap the small, delicate parcel Christina had sent. As he entered his rooms, his efforts revealed that there was, in fact, a letter inside. However it was nestled atop a small folded square of cloth, delicate and airy and fine. 

Setting the letter aside for the moment, he unfolded the fabric to reveal that it was a handkerchief, finely made and embroidered in bright colored thread. The edges were a gleaming yellow, reminding him of sunlight. On one corner, no bigger than his thumb, was the most intricate rendition of a yellow wildflower—he recognized it almost instantly. 

He moved to sit on the nearest surface, which happened to be the edge of his bed. The pads of his fingers caressed the tiny design reverently, as if touching it would somehow unravel all the thread that comprised it. As if by acknowledging that it was there, it was already in danger of disappearing. There was no doubt of the reference used—he had seen so many of those little yellow blossoms on his journey around the Reyes ranch. The breath left his body as his mind’s eye conjured a bright smile and the smell of clean sweetness on the air. 

After he’d regained some of his composure, he picked up the letter. It was shorter than most of her other letters, which stood to reason as he’d just received her last one a few days ago and he’d yet to answer it. She must have sent this just behind her previous one. 

Beloved TK,

I hope you are well. I know I have just posted a letter to you two days ago, but I saw this in a shop window and immediately thought of you. I know how you enjoyed the wildflowers around our home, and I wished for you to have a reminder of them—especially one less prone to wilting than the genuine article. 

You are always in my our thoughts, and I wished to keep us in yours. Please, think of Austin when you hold this token, and know that you are so dearly missed. 

Yours in heart,

Christina Reyes

TK stared. It seemed as though the letter had been written in some sort of haste, as it was unusual for Christina’s hand. The letters were slightly more slanted, and the spaces between paragraphs larger than her delicate way. Even her signature was off, as if it had been written by a proxy. And the contents…she’d never called him a beloved friend before. Well, no, it wasn’t even friend. It was just “beloved”. 

He wondered if she was growing melancholy herself for some unknown reason. The letter seemed sincere, but heavier than her usual correspondence, as if she was feeling his absence more acutely in this instance. 

Furthermore, he wasn’t sure he’d told her about what the wildflowers meant to him. He’d thought that was something he and Mr. Reyes had shared between themselves for the short time they’d been acquainted. But perhaps her brother had recited a few of their outings to her, and remarked on TK’s fascination with the surrounding flora of the country. 

Perhaps. 

He concluded that the whole parcel was a product of a hastily made decision when she’d seen the handkerchief in the window, and the oddities contained within the letter were the result of her haste to get it posted while she was still in town that same day. 

He gently tucked the gift into a box next to his bed, giving it one last longing stare before closing the lid and beginning to dress for dinner. 

*

“We’ve had a letter from the Doña,” his father said over luncheon a few days later as he perused said letter which Michaels had handed to him upon their arrival in the dining room. “It seems her agent agrees to our terms, and they are sending a liaison with the documents to finalize.” He set the page down on the table and picked up his glass of port. “I do believe we are almost settled with the entirety of the preparations, and we can begin construction early next year!”

“That’s wonderful news, father,” TK said quietly, his tone not matching his words. He was looking down at his plate with no intention of picking up his fork, so he missed his father’s knowing and saddened expression. 

“It is. Another piece of news that I’ve gathered from earlier today, is that the Vanderbilts are throwing a ball tomorrow night. Well, I suppose Mrs. Vanderbilt is, at any rate, and Mr. Strickland asks if you can accompany him.”

“I don’t know, father. I’m not sure I’m feeling well enough to socialize on such a scale. I’ll be a bore to everyone there and then you will have to answer for my behavior.” 

“I don’t think you’d be a bore to Mr. Strickland, surely. He’s been asking after you these last few weeks. I daresay he plans to eventually kidnap you from your rooms if you do not answer his calls. Surely he’ll want to hear how you’re getting on?” His father’s transparency was apparent, but TK did not call him out on it. 

“I don’t know, father. I’m not quite well at the moment so I probably shouldn’t be gallivanting about at parties.”

“You are unwell because you refuse to eat or see sunlight,” Owen said, not unkindly. His next words were suffused with affection and it only made TK’s heart ache more. “My son, I worry for you. The whole household does. Mrs. Talbot says you only ate half the small sandwich she brought you last night. And you haven’t touched your soup yet since we’ve sat down. I worry you’ll be skin and bones before long.” His words weren’t scolding, only concerned.

“I’m sorry to worry you, father, and the servants. I just find it…difficult to keep anything down. It all tastes like ash, and I know that description would never do Mrs. Talbot’s cooking justice.” At this, he made a gamely attempt to sip a spoonful of soup, and found his assessments confirmed. He swallowed anyway, and kept the grimace off his face with great effort. 

“Tyler,” his father said in that affectionate tone once more, “You must try to move past your heartbreak. I know that’s what it is,” he said as TK made to interrupt him, “I know it when I look at your face and see only sadness. I know it when I hear from Michaels that you have not descended the stairs all day while I’ve been at the office. I know it because that single flower is still thriving at your bedside.” At this, he had the decency to look only slightly chagrined. TK said nothing.

“I looked in on you a few nights ago. You didn’t come down to dinner and I was worried you’d gone hungry again. Your sleep looked restless. I also noticed a letter from Miss Christina.”

“You went through my things?” TK said without any real malice. He knew his father meant well but he had put a lot of private thoughts into those letters and Christina had answered them in kind. 

“I only ascertained that she wishes to see snow. You should take her up on her request to ride the line once it is finished. I know she would love to see you again. And maybe by then, it will be less painful for you.” Owen’s face was drawn. 

“Maybe, in a year or two. For now I am content with her letters.”

“What does she write of her brother?” his father asked.

“Nothing, because I asked her not to,” TK replied. He again missed his father’s pained expression of concern as he took another forced sip of his soup from his spoon. His hand trembled slightly at the most direct mention of Carlos since his talk with Marjan earlier in the week. 

Owen seemed to take this answer as a plea to end the subject of conversation. He simply watched his son silently, wishing he could help ease his pain and knowing he was unable.

*

“Mr. Cartwright has not stopped staring in this direction since we sat down,” Paul remarked over the swell of the music, another quadrille beginning causing cheers and the shuffle of feet to the dance floor. 

“Perhaps he’s trying to figure out a way to ask you to dance,” TK answered as he sipped his brandy. Paul was a dear friend, and he was happy to be in his company, he just wished it didn’t have to be surrounded by laughing couples and a revelry he felt entirely apart from. 

His friend gave him an incredulous look. “Are you serious? He’s been shamelessly staring at you,” Paul countered. “He’s practically mapped out every thread in your coat, the cad.” 

“I doubt that. No amiable gentleman would give me a second glance as I look now. Maybe a few months ago, but not now. I’m well aware the color in my cheeks and the bulk of my frame have left me. The servants, my father, you, and Marjan remind me every day of that. How could I be any object of desire?”

It had been a full week since his first venture out of the house with Marjan—and nearly three months since his return from Texas—and TK was trying for his friends’ sake to get back out into the world. Hence accepting the invitation to a ball at the home of some debutante or another of their set, with Paul as his moral support should he feel the need to flee the social setting at his earliest convenience. TK was still trying to get used to other people around him being so happy and carefree when he himself wished to crawl into his bed and remain there until the second coming. 

He knew full well that his behavior wasn’t healthy. He’d made the decision himself to try and get past his heartbreak, lest it cripple him forever which definitely could not happen if he wanted to give his father any peace of mind. 

“My friend,” Paul chided kindly, “you’ve always been a vision, sought after by many a connected suitor. You haven’t lost your appeal I can promise you. We harp on your well-being because we care about how you’re feeling on the inside, and the outside is a good testament to that. I dare say it’s made you more desirable, at least to those who’ve mourned your absence since your trip, that you’ve stayed away. It inflates the intrigue.” He gave a small chuckle that TK tried to match. 

“Well I’m afraid Mr. Cartwright will have to find another object of desire. I do not believe I could content anyone as a courting partner as of now. I need a bit more time to settle back in, I think.” That was as diplomatic as TK could be about it. The reality was that he’d still been unable to remove thoughts of Mr. Reyes from his mind, and it grew more difficult every day. He absentmindedly reached into his jacket pocket and rubbed the delicate fabric of the handkerchief between his fingers, feeling the bumps and valleys of the embroidery, and almost smelling the sweet scent of the country in the air. 

He hadn’t noticed he’d closed his eyes until he felt a brush of air next to his face as a reveler approached their table. 

“Hello, Mr. Strand,” Mr. Cartwright beamed. It seemed he’d worked up the courage to approach after all. 

“Good evening. Are you enjoying the festivities?” He answered, attempting cordiality. 

“Of course. And yourself, Mr. Strand? Wouldn’t you better enjoy things in their midst than here on the periphery? Fancy a dance on the next waltz?” The man sounded so eager that TK almost obliged. But his honor would not let him lead the man on. 

“I’m afraid I’ve quite exhausted myself already,” he said, even though all he’d done was make one round and plop himself into his current seat since arriving. “I do apologize for being unavailable, but I’m sure there is someone else dying to catch your hand for a waltz. Please let me do them the favor of leaving you available.” 

It was almost comical the way the man’s face fell, but TK was not in danger of showing any glee at it on his face. He understood far to well the melancholy of unrequited affection. But alas, he could not feign interest at the moment, so he let the man trudge away with only a bit of guilt. 

“He’ll get over it,” he said when he caught Paul’s glance. 

“But will you?” It was clear he wasn’t talking about Mr. Cartwright.

TK didn’t answer. He could not. 

*

The day of the arrival of the Doña’s liaison dawned and once again TK could barely face the sunlight. He wished with all his heart that he could place the blame on too much of the good-natured debauchery that plagued his set when they got into their drinks, but he knew he could not. He’d barely partaken in a full glass of brandy with his father after dinner the night before. 

He felt some guilt at not hurrying down to meet the man at his father’s side, as would be expected of an only son in position to run his father’s business someday, but could barely bring himself to nibble at the scones Mrs. Talbot had sent up the night before.

Sooner or later, however, he knew he must face the day. He finally got himself dressed near luncheon time, deeming his appearance presentable enough for a middle manager he’d never meet again. 

He straightened his collar and pulled his lapels taut just before Michaels announced him upon entering the parlor. As he surveyed the scene before him, his stride halted, all breath left his lungs, and the color drained from his face. 

Seated on the settee across from his father and wearing the most disarmingly beautiful smile, eyes dancing in the sunlight filtering in through the damask curtains, was Carlos Reyes. 

The man had clearly just been given some wonderful news, though TK couldn’t imagine what his own father could have told him to elicit such a response, but it was plain on his face that he’d just been told something truly delightful. However, when his eyes strayed to the entrance to the room upon Michaels announcing TK’s presence, the smile on his face faded slowly to a deep concern. TK didn’t miss the subtle perusal of his person, Carlos looking over his face with a slight furrow of his brow that grew deeper the longer TK stood there dumbfounded. 

Mr. Reyes, of course, was the first to remember his manners, though his employment of them seemed over the top to TK. He’d jumped up and nearly ran over to TK, taking his elbow in hand ever so gently as if the touch was nothing. As if it didn’t send TK’s whole world tilting. 

“Mr. Strand! I…please, sit. Should I fetch some water? You look like you’ll be ill any moment…” He sounded almost…afraid. Not disgusted and annoyed as TK thought he might have been upon their next meeting. After all, TK was the one who’d made a fool of himself by pining like an imbecile in front of the Reyes’ family and friends. He could only imagine how much Mr. Reyes regretted their time together, now that he’d had a few months to ponder it. 

“I’m alright, Mr. Reyes, thank you,” TK managed to croak out as the man ushered him to a chair across the room, seemingly careful as not to touch him. 

He must be master of himself! This was almost more embarrassing than what had initially transpired between them in Texas. “I…hadn’t known that you’d be coming as your mother’s agent. I was only…surprised to see you. Here.” He forced his lips to stop moving.

Mr. Reyes’ face had yet to lose it’s pinched brow and shining eyes. What TK had initially catalogued as fear now looked like…concern. But that was impossible. Only, maybe not, since Mr. Reyes was a quite honorable and sensible man, and TK knew he looked gaunt and lifeless on his best days lately.

Turning to look at his father, TK only noticed that he too was focused on Mr. Reyes, and TK couldn’t quite place his expression. He’d been smiling as well when TK entered, and now he seemed a bit subdued but no less mirthful. It was an odd juxtaposition. Just then, he turned to his son and gave him a gentle smile.

“Well, I must be off. Quite a bit to get finalized with the documents you’ve brought me.” He stood and offered a hand to Mr. Reyes. “How long did you say you’d be in the city?”

“A few days, sir. I had hoped…well, my mother wishes me to return with everything in order,” he answered cryptically as they shook. His face was hopeful though TK couldn’t think why. They had pretty well come to a mutually beneficial agreement through correspondence. The rest was simply formality at this point. He couldn’t think what else would need to be settled. 

“I’m sure she does,” Owen said with a smile and another odd look at TK. He could not figure what to make of the exchange, but truth be told he was still reeling from Carlos—Mr. Reyes, he reminded himself—being in his home so unexpectedly. 

His father was turning to him next. “Tyler, would you be a gentleman and show Mr. Reyes about for a bit? I’m sure he’d like to stretch his legs after his long journey. You could take a taxi to the Park?”

TK fought the urge to gape at his father. He expected them to be…alone? What would they even discuss? TK wished the Turkish rug’s threads would open up and sew him into the floor. 

He was however, as his father said, a gentleman, and he could not let his manners slip no matter how much he wished to be anywhere but alone in the confines of a taxi and then in the beautiful intimacy of the Park at dusk with Carlos Reyes. 

“Of course, father. It would be my pleasure.” Somehow the words left his lips without a tremble. Or so he hoped. He did not think his father could be so cruel, knowing TK’s heart. 

Mr. Reyes looked half ecstatic and half terrified. TK could relate whole-heartedly. 

As Owen bid them good night and made to ascend the stairs to his study, TK slowly turned to look at his circumstantial companion. Here they were once again, thrust into each other. TK thought back to that first morning they’d toured the ranch together; Mr. Reyes had been cordial, despite their initial meeting and his own hesitation about the Strand’s business with his family. He’d been courteous and knowledgable about the land, wishing to give TK a good impression which TK in turn appreciated. 

He vowed to himself he would attempt to do the same when showing Mr. Reyes his own home. 

With somewhat renewed countenance, TK took a breath. “Well, shall we, Mr. Reyes?” His voice barely shook. The man in question gave him a fond smile that melted TK’s very soul.

“Lead the way, Mr. Strand.”

*

The taxi ride proved to undo all of TK’s borrowed confidence. Sitting so close their knees brushed reminded him of riding through the apple orchard, which in turn reminded him of Carlos’ hand in his, which set his heart fluttering and mind whirling, which led to an awkward silence the likes of which TK never wanted to experience again. Mr. Reyes was waiting for him to speak, it seemed—as TK was ostensibly his guide in this place unfamiliar to him—and he was thoroughly incapable. All that accompanied them was the clap of the horses’ hooves on the stones and both their nervous breathing. 

When they arrived at the southwest corner of the Central Park, TK paid the driver and slipped out before Mr. Reyes could offer him a hand. He knew not what he would do if he felt that warmth upon his skin again in his current state. The other man looked a bit let down, but TK dismissed it as a trick of his longing imagination. 

They entered and set about the promenade which, even at this time of the evening, was still thronged with late perusers. As they walked among the fresh grass and beautiful tree lined paths, TK did his best to drum up the wherewithal to speak, to offer some manner of conversation lest he seem rude in his silence.

“I suppose it looks rather…artificial to you,” he said quietly. 

Mr. Reyes startled a bit, apparently accustomed to TK’s lack of voice thus far, but he recovered quickly with an eager smile turned to his companion. 

“Not at all! It’s all very…whimsical I think. This beautiful bounty of nature preserved in the middle of all that stone and brick. It’s…peaceful.”

“Yes,” TK thought aloud. “It’s quite serene. The further in you go, the less the city outside of it seems real. The sounds and smog melt away and you just feel…” he trailed off, words failing.

“Like we’re in our own little Eden.” Carlos’ eyes were like pools of shining dark chocolate in the gaslamp light. Sweet and alluring. 

TK could only nod dumbly, and try to look away. He accomplished it with much difficulty. 

They walked in a much softer silence for a time, passing a couple of people TK recognized from parties and balls around the city, but they never stopped to converse with anyone. Mr. Reyes seemed to want to keep his company for himself, which TK could not think what to do about, so he remained passively quiet. 

About half an hour into their journey, his companion spoke. 

“I’ve actually got something I’d like to…well, first there’s something I…I need to tell you.” Carlos’ face was unreadable, but his tone was quiet and reserved. TK’s heart clenched painfully. Carlos had been in an odd countenance since his arrival, and TK could only attribute it to the awkwardness surrounding his ridiculous assumptions about Carlos’ feelings and the utter embarrassment of his departure from Texas. 

“Oh?” was all he said, suddenly breathless with an ache he could barely stand. 

“I’m not sure if you were informed when you last visited, but—” he paused for so long, TK turned to look at him at his side, wondering what halted his speech. His face was still unreadable, but his voice now had a very slight tremble to it. TK tried to keep his own face open, so that Mr. Reyes felt safe to continue. 

“For several years now I have had an...understanding. With a gentleman from California, with whom my family is quite acquainted.”

The vice around TK’s heart clenched cruelly at the reminder. “Yes, Mr. de Castillo. Your mother and sisters—and some of those from the county—told me about him. Quite admired, he is, by all.”

“Yes…” His voice trailed off into silence again, and this time when TK sneaked a look he seemed troubled. TK wished he could put the man’s fears at ease, that if he feared a faux pas in tearing down TK’s feelings that he needn’t worry about it.

But that would have been a lie.

“Yes,” he said again, going on. “We’ve actually been courting these last months, not long after yours and your father’s departure.”

TK took the blow as best he could, with a calm countenance, when really he wished this torturous conversation would end so that he could limp back to his bed and curl up in misery until the second coming. Why on earth did Carlos feel the need to do this? Weren’t they settled in being apart from each other? No more than business acquaintances? 

The thought alone dealt his heart another painful blow. 

“About a month ago he—he called on me to...state his intentions.” His voice sounded flatter than TK would assume from a happily engaged man. Still, he tried to inject some light into his own tone when he answered.

“I am so happy for you, Car—Mr. Reyes,” he said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster which, admittedly, was not very much at all.

However, his tone must have belied his utter devastation because Mr. Reyes abruptly stopped and gently tugged him to the side of the path, so that they would not impede other couples on the promenade. TK almost swooned at the touch.

“I’m sorry?” the other man said, a look of confusion and slight hurt across his beautiful eyes. TK was now confused as well.

“I...I only wish to convey my happiness on your engagement. You must be thrilled to have your future finally settled. Not only must it be a relief, but with such a fine gentleman as I have heard.” Carlos’ hand was still lightly holding onto his upper arm, and though it pained TK in the worst way to do it, he ever so deftly maneuvered his body so that the contact was dropped. 

“I think that...well I...that is…” Carlos was staring at him, that hurt look growing in his brown eyes and TK wanted nothing more than to take it away but he didn’t know how.

“Mr. Strand—TK,” he said so softly that TK could hear his own heart beat in the silence. “I think that you have...misunderstood me.” TK had been staring at a spot over Carlos’ shoulder until then, unable to meet his eyes any longer for fear he’d burst into tears in the middle of Central Park, but at the plea he shifted his watery gaze back to sink into the pools of liquid chocolate in front of him. 

“Mr. de Castillo—Fernando, that is—has proposed marriage to me, it’s true—” In the minuscule pause between these words and the next set, TK felt his heart slow to a stop with the inexorable weight set upon it by this conversation, “—but I have turned him down.”

And at this, that traitorous heart gave one slow, painful beat of hope that TK was powerless to tamp down. 

When he could find his voice, it was to incredulously say, “Whatever for?” 

Carlos reached down to take TK’s hand in his, and TK was sure he was trembling like a sheaf of paper caught in the wind. He brought it between both his hands, brushing the knuckles ever so lightly—so much so that TK was sure he’d imagined it. 

“Because I could not marry a man that I do not love, and I do not love Fernando. No matter how much of a wonderful and kind gentleman he is, and no matter how ashamed and saddened it made me to tell him so. But I cannot betray my own heart.”

TK’s legs were going to give out any moment. He had no other thought in his head but staying upright, using that tentative hold on his hand, still gentle as ever, as his anchor. He dare not let his thoughts follow themselves to any conclusions. 

“The truth is, TK, my heart belongs to another. It has for some time, and I was too stubborn with misplaced loyalty to give it a say. That is, until now. Which is why I imparted the information to you.”

TK kept staring into the man’s eyes, wondering if this was all some dream he’d tumbled into in slumber. He was sure this must be his own mind conjuring the conversation, guilty as it was of yearning for it. 

“I wish to apologize for taking so very long to come to my senses. I always strive to be honorable, and for a time I thought that meant that I must remain true to Fernando. But I’ve been made to realize that my thinking was wrong.” TK could only take the words in stride, adrift as he was on the roaring sea of his emotions. 

The man continued, while TK himself was made to listen to the most illogical combination of words his brain could have come up with in his current state. He was still convinced he was dreaming. Carlos reaching down and taking both his hands did nothing to bring him out of said state. Furthermore, it made him feel as if he was about to float away into the stars, unmoored as he was except for those twin points of contact. 

“You are the most optimistic, brilliant, engaging creature I have ever known. Your smile could light up a room if every candle failed. I find myself riveted any time you’ve got an anecdote to tell, and in these months of not hearing your voice I have conjured it in my dreams more times than I care to admit.

“I wish to spend the rest of my days making you smile and laugh, waking with the morning sunshine just to see how it dapples your face, and admiring you from across the dinner table every single evening for the rest of my life. TK, if I have been mistaken, and you do not return my affections, please stop me from making a further fool of myself.” This he said with a little nervous chuckle that cut straight through TK’s very soul. He looked up through his lashes at TK, nervous. 

TK, in turn, was struck dumb by the confession. Carlos apparently took this as a queue to continue to the most preposterously happy thing that had yet to be uttered in this very winding conversation that had had TK’s heart in knots since it began. 

“Mr. Strand. If I have not been remiss in my assumptions of your affection, I urge you, no I beg you to consider my humble plea. Would you consent to be my husband? It would make me the happiest man in the entire world.”

TK felt himself take in a slow, careful breath. It took several moments for him to find his voice, and then it was only to utter on a half-expelled gasp, “Truly?” 

“Yes, truly,” was the nearly equally breathless answer.

Again, it was a struggle to find volume behind the utter euphoria that had overtaken him, but soon enough, he pushed the words out in a little more than a whisper, lest he accidentally shout and call undue attention. “Then, yes. Yes!” Tears were already warming his cheeks and chin, but TK didn’t care a wit. He went easily as Carlos embraced him tightly, feeling warmth suffusing his entire body at every place they touched. 

Before long, they had to part, lest they invite accusations of impropriety.

“I…I had thought…well it doesn’t matter now I suppose,” he stammered, thoughts swirling with emotion and unable to tamp them down. Not wanting to. 

“I apologize again for taking so long. Your smile, your face is all I’ve thought about for months. The moment you were gone my heart sank to the deepest depths.”

“Mine as well,” TK admitted. “I have…neglected myself these last few months, I’m afraid. I thought I could learn to forget you in time, but alas…”

“When you entered the parlor, I was distraught to see you looking unwell. Please, I beg of you, please take care of yourself. I don’t know what I would do if…”

“I know. I apologize for my appearance. I did not mean to give you cause for concern.”

Carlos briefly reached up to touch TK’s slightly sunken cheek. “I hope you can forgive me, for it is my silence that has caused you such distress, but I also find myself elated that you feel the same as I do. I can still scarcely believe it.” His voice was rising with happiness, and TK felt drunk on it like the sweetest wine. “I must admit, though, I cannot claim full responsibility for coming to my senses. Christina was quite adamant that I was being an imbecile.”

TK looked down at the ground for a moment. “I…asked her—no, begged her really—not to speak of you in our correspondence.”

“She told me. It’s why I—“ Carlos stopped abruptly, looking chagrined. 

“What is it?” TK asked.

“Well I…I knew you did not want to speak to me, but I just had to…that is I…I sent you…something. I wrote a letter and signed her name to it. She laughed about it later, but she called me an utter fool for not being more courageous about it.

TK halted in the middle of the path. Immediately, he knew. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out a delicate fold of linen edged in bright yellow. He held it gently in his fingers, caressing the soft folds that had cemented themselves after so long kept in his pocket. 

Even in the lamplight, he could see Carlos’ face flush slightly. 

“I wanted to court you properly, but circumstances were…well. In the end I was cowardly about it I suppose.” He ducked his head bashfully. 

“I think, deep down, I knew. I didn’t want to let myself believe, but…I’d never spoken to Christina about the wildflowers.” TK’s own voice was reverent. 

“She told me that. When I told her what I’d done, she told me you would see right through it.”

“You called me beloved…”

Carlos looked deep into his eyes. “Yes.”

TK nearly swooned again, new tears dripping down his cheeks which were positively sore with how much he was smiling. He tucked the treasure back into his jacket.

“We’ll have to tell my father, I suppose,” he said after a time, absolutely giddy as they began to walk along the path again, back to the streets toward the Strands’ home. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. I’ve already gotten his blessing,” Carlos answered with a smug grin to answer TK’s astonished expression. “That’s what we were talking about earlier today, before you interrupted us.”

“Well, you’ve thought of everything haven’t you?”

“I think I’d like very badly to kiss you, but I’ll hold off. Wouldn’t want anything to jeopardize your good opinion of me, would we?’ His smile was absolutely radiant. TK thought to himself that if this were to be his life, staring at this gorgeous face full of love for all his days, he’d never be unhappy again. 

*

The fire was dying down and Carlos finally moved to take his leave. 

“Must you go?” TK couldn’t quite keep the pout from his voice, but at least now, he did not care too much if Carlos heard it.

“I’ve stayed too long as it is, people will talk,” he answered with an indulgent smile as TK walked him out of the parlor and into the hallway. The servants had long gone to bed, so it was up to TK himself to help Carlos on with his coat. 

“You’re my fiance now,” he said, glowing all the while and unable to help it. “People will have to get used to the fact that I want to be around you every waking moment of the day without pause.”

“Yes, but no one knows that yet and I wouldn’t want to besmirch your good name.” 

“When will I see you again, then?” He slid the overcoat onto broad shoulders, nearly letting his fingers linger a bit too long for propriety.

“I’ll call tomorrow to meet with your father again. We do have actual business to finalize after all. You’ll be there, won’t you?” Now it was Carlos’ turn to pout a bit, and TK was powerless against it. 

“Of course. Well, I’ll say good night.” He looked up into the face of the most beautiful man, the man he was going to spend the rest of his unbelievably happy days with. 

“Good night, my heart,” said Carlos, reaching up a hand to caress TK’s face so gently it caused an aching pang in his heart. Slowly, carefully, he moved his calloused thumb across TK’s lips, back and forth a few times as if trying to memorize the shape of them. TK gave a small shudder.

“My, Mr. Reyes, you’re being very forward.” He couldn’t help smiling. As the man had not removed his hand yet, TK pursed his lips ever so slightly, bestowing a chaste kiss against his thumb.

Carlos chuckled softly, covering an intake of breath. “Now who’s forward?” He was smiling so wide it looked as if it hurt.

“You’re my fiance,” TK answered against the warm skin, the word still feeling like glistening honey in his mouth, “I can be as forward as I like.”

“God in heaven, I want to kiss you.” Carlos looked like he might do it, but restrained himself as a gentleman should. They’d pushed the bounds of propriety enough for one day, TK supposed. Though he would have welcomed it gladly, as clandestine and salacious as it would have been. After a few more strokes, Carlos finally dropped his hand from TK’s face. “This will have to do for now, I suppose.” He took TK’s own hand in his and laid a gentle kiss against his knuckles. 

“But not for long?” 

“No, my heart. Not for long. I won’t be able to do with a long engagement. I will perish before I make it to the church if you make me wait for more than a couple of months.”

“I’ll see what I can do. But my father will want to invite the whole of New York, so you know.” He couldn’t help a roll of his eyes, however fond the gesture was. His father loved a good party, and the marriage of his only son—finally, he would probably say—was sure to prove one for the ages. 

“Ah, yes, and we mustn’t forget the entirety of the county back home, if my mother and Christina have anything to say about it,” Carlos said with another fond chuckle. “You have her to thank, by the way. For getting me out of my head and back on solid ground. My sister is your champion in sickness and in health. That is, until I get to call you my husband.”

TK shuddered again at the mere word. 

“I really should go,” Carlos said again. He made no move toward the door. 

“You really should,” TK prompted. He moved to open the door, and finally they broke their gaze from each other. 

As Carlos stepped out, he turned to smile one last time and it turned TK’s stomach into a whole flock of butterflies. “Good night, dearest. I’ll call on you and your father tomorrow.”

“I will be dying a slow death until that moment breathes me back to life,” TK lamented.

“As will I.”

TK watched him walk away into the night before finally closing the door against the chill of the Manhattan midnight. For several long moments, he simply leaned against the door and caught his breath, giving thanks to all the forces that managed to bring the two of them together so favorably. He’d have to write to Christina the moment he woke in the morning. 

[mandos-lightningbeforethunder]

Start Again - Chapter One (Din Djarin x Reader)

SUMMARY: Luke Skywalker wasn't the only one searching the galaxy for force-sensitive beings. And he was a hell of a lot nicer. You were sure of these visions. They told of a forgotten life and explained the cracks in your memories. Perhaps employing the lone Mandalorian may help you put the pieces together.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: brief mention of torture, discussion of memory loss

Author’s Note: First time posting on both tumblr and AO3 (fic is cross-posted). Feel free to reblog! Other chapters will be linked as the story progresses. Enjoy!

CHAPTER ONE - THE MEMORY

“Castin!”

A boy, no more than ten, turned at the voice of his mother calling him. He was jovial, playing in the riverbed. His clothes will be soaked if I don’t stop him, you thought.

“These men want to speak to you!” Perhaps that would get his attention.

Behind you, three men stood, watching the child as he bound toward his mother. The boy quickly hid behind your skirts, suddenly shy. Castin was almost to your chest now, yet in the presence of strangers, he still acted like a toddler. One of the men crouched to his level, offering a rock.

“Your mother tells me of your abilities,” one of the men hums out.

Castin nods. You watch as the man reaches into his pocket, pulling out a simple stone.

“Show me,” he requests. Castin looks to you, unsure. You nod, offering him a smile to encourage him. You had heard whispers around the galaxy, the Empire defeated and a young Jedi searching for more like him.

Holding the stone between his pointer finger and thumb, the man waits for Castin. His face contorted in concentration, Castin pulls the stone towards him into the palm of his outstretched hand.

The three men hum in admonishment. At such a young age and already showing promise, you hear one murmur. Castin smiles at you, practically beaming from excitement.

“We would like to speak to you about possible schooling if you wouldn’t mind?” The man rises from the ground, offering you a smile.

“Yes, of course. Castin can go back to playing, yes?” You ask, not wanting to bore your son. The man simply nods, turning to walk to your village. You walk just behind the man, passing his two colleagues before you hear the ignition of a saber.

The nightmare has been longer than others. However, the faces remain blank to you. The reminder of what was lost, just in front of you, and yet you hardly remember it. There are whispers about it, about your survival and broken memories.

Staring up at the ceiling of your hut, you closed your eyes to try and engrain the nightmare. Fold it into other nightmares and visions, hoping to fill in the blank spaces in your mind. It did little to help what was left of your memory, however. All you knew, is you had a lost life somewhere out there. The voice in that nightmare was your own.

Someone calls your name. Opening your eyes, you again see the ceiling of your hut and rise from your cot. The twin suns leak sunlight into your hut to signify that it was time for morning chores.

Another shout of your name.

“Just a moment!” You shout back, turning to the bowl next to your cot. You splash the water onto your face, rousing yourself. The creak of your door startles you from drying your face.

“Valara! What have I told you about sneaking up on her?” an elder woman, standing just outside your door, chastises.

“Sorry grandmother,” Valara says, before turning to you. She sees the look on your face and calmly shuts the door behind her. “Did you have another nightmare?”

You only nod, drying your hands before placing the cloth next to the bowl.

“You know there are remedies for that,” Valara suggests.

“I know,” you murmur, “but I’m not ready.”

“You choose to suffer?” She asks. You know she means well. She has been there through your worse ones.

“I had a son,” you turn to her, your eyes meeting hers for the first time this morning. “In this nightmare. I had a son. He couldn’t have been older than ten, I think. His face was a blur, but he was mine. I know that.”

Valara stares at you, her mouth slightly slack in shock. She blinks and is quickly set back in reality. She moves closer to you, placing her hands on your biceps as a means of comfort.

“Are you sure? Wait, no, I mean, I believe you. Your memory has been returning and it looks promising. I just,” she pauses, looking away from you before her eyes meet yours again, “I don’t want your conscious to confuse you with false memories. My grandmother told me your brain uses it to protect you.”

“I know what I saw, Valara,” you state in a firm tone. “It was me, my voice in that nightmare. Not something my conscious could just conjure up.”

Valara’s hands fall to her side, nodding at your words. You can see the gears turning in her head, she’s unsure of what to say.

“There are chores to do. Maybe that will take your mind off things before you have another session with my grandmother,” Valara states, turning away from you. She walks toward the door, before turning to look over her shoulder. She then leaves without another word.

You ponder her words. There were chores to complete. The same chores you had been doing since you first arrived in Valara’s village. You needed change. Something different than this village and its secrets. The constant sessions with Valara’s grandmother were only taking a toll on you. Your memory was improving and yet you felt as zero progress had been made.

Opening the door to your hut the twin suns quickly beat down on you. The winter season, a mere two weeks, had come and gone on Puvo. The grassland planet’s ecosystem only called for summer and spring seasons, with the occasional winter season that came every once in a millennium.

Valara was just ahead of you. Kneeling over the riverbed, she washed the dirt off the leaves of Puvo’s native plant. Known for its healing properties, villages like Valara’s sold the leaves in droves. It was shipped across the galaxy, reaching the far ends of the universe. Valara’s grandmother had used it when you had first arrived, bleeding with a shattered mind. Although the leaves healed the physical wounds, your mind remained in the state you had first arrived in.

You knew only your name and parts of your life before. You didn’t even remember the victory of the Rebels. Valara had to catch you up on the last six months, easing you into the current state of the universe. There was no war, none at Puvo at least, and the galaxy remained peaceful.

You kneel beside Valara, scooping a couple of leaves from her pile, and begin washing them in the flowing water.

“I want to leave,” you whisper to her. Her head jerks to look at yours.

“Leave?” she asks. “You know you can’t do that, not without my grandmother’s permission. Your head…it’s not in the right place for you to go out on your own.”

“I know. That’s why you’re going to help me,” You say, looking at her. Her face is contorted in confusion before the realization hits her.

“No,” she states, shaking her head. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Valara,” you start, “I can’t be here any longer. I know my mind isn’t where it needs to be but being stuck on this planet—” Valara splashes you, stopping your words.

“You’re asking me to sneak you off Puvo,” she reminds you. You nod and she sighs, looking away from you.

“I need change. Puvo and its people, you and your grandmother have treated me with nothing but kindness since I first arrived. Your grandmother helped me piece parts of my mind back together. But staying here could mean years before we make any more progress.” At this point, your tone comes off as pleading.

“Why so sudden? What did you see in that nightmare?” Valara asks, “You’ve been here for nearly a year now and we’ve just put together your earliest memories. Leaving Puvo could mean never recovering other memories. You know, pre-Empire memories.”

Right. The Empire no longer existed and instead, the New Republic stood in its place. A new era of peace.

“Valara. That nightmare…that’s more than I’ve ever seen before. The faces may have been a blur, but I know in my heart that I have a son out there. I don’t even know if he remembers me at this point, but I need to try and at least find him.”

Valara murmurs your name, placing a hand on yours. You take a deep breath.

“You came to us a year ago. Broken, bloody, babbling incoherent things. Grandmother didn’t think you’d survive the night. Stars, whoever or wherever you came from, they tortured you. Don’t you understand?  You’re safer here. There’s a possibility if you have a son out there, the people that did those things to you…they don’t want you finding him.”

“Valara,” you say.

“Don’t, don’t ‘Valara’ me. You say it in that stupid voice of yours and suddenly I melt. Stop it.” She demands, glaring at you. You can see the conflict in her eyes. She means well, she wants to protect you and keep you safe from the people that harmed you.

“What if you came with me?” you offered, taking another leaf from her pile. She shakes her head, focusing instead on the task at hand.

“What if I took a communicator with me? Check-in with you every week or so?” This time, Valara pauses in her work. She looks at you again, placing the leaves down in the basket next to her.

“Those communicators are for transport crews only. They’ll notice when one is missing. And how do you expect to get out of here? The only ships that regularly arrive and depart are those janky old transport ships and they can barely fit a load of Puvion leaves.”

A bag of credits lands next to her basket and she looks up at you.

“Where did you get those?” She demands, snatching the bag and peering inside. You can see her counting the amount.

“I’ve earned them,” you say, taking the bag from her with gentle hands. “Turns out loading those janky old transport ships earn quite a bit of them.”

“Damn it,” Valara curses, but she smiles. She seems proud. “What are you planning on doing with those credits? Bribing your trip to another planet?”

“No. There’s an old watering hole a couple of kilometers from here. From what I’ve read, there’s a couple of travelers who come through and pick up any stragglers in exchange for information or…credits.”

“So, bribery,” Valara deduces. You give a sheepish smile as she rolls her eyes. “Where will you get the communicator?”

“You know that one transport crew? The one with that pilot who thinks he’s the shit?” Her eyes widening is a signal that she knows exactly who you’re talking about.

“Nope. I’ve heard enough. I’m not becoming an accessory to your crimes. You’re crazy.” Valara rises from the riverbed, brushing her hands on her pants. You quickly set aside your leaves and pocket the credits, rising to follow her.

“It’s not becoming an accessory. I just need a favor. His crew arrives tomorrow at the same time as the last. He won’t even notice it’s gone.”

Valara stops, pinching her nose in frustration. She seems to be going over your words, processing them and what they could mean.

“My grandmother is going to kill me…” she sighs. You grin, ready to celebrate but she stops you with her hand. “No, no, you’re getting the communicator yourself. I’m stalling for you, so my grandmother doesn’t wonder why you missed a session.”

You hug her and her surprise is visible. Affection is not lost of the native Puvion, but it’s rare coming from you.

“Thank you,” you say, and she rolls her eyes, returning the hug in a begrudging manner.

Read Chapter Two - The Journey here!

[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.”

[yetanotherhiddlestoner]

                            The Asgardian and his Atlantean.

  (First time writing a marvel related story and and LokiXreader one at that. So forgive the way it is. I got bored one night watching Atlantis on Disney that I came up with this mixture of a story. Hope you enjoy I own nothing of marvels or disney’s. This story is also on my Wattpad -https://www.wattpad.com/user/HatterMoon )

Life at Stark Tower was good for you. All the Avengers loved you and they treated you like family. You loved helping out Tony the most with his suits and helping him advance the technology. This morning started like any other day, you woke before the sun had started to shine in the sky, you check your pendent. A couple more days before you need to be returning home.

You prepared breakfast for everyone, despite being told numerous times that you didn't need to do it.

You made sure to brew enough coffee for everyone as they all seem to need it first thing in the morning. You preferred tea to start your day, and so they have gifted you your own tea pot and tea set at Christmas.

The first to wander in was Nat, still in his PJ's with messy hair and rubbing her eyes, you chuckle silently. "Morning Nat. Sleep well?" She mumbled a reply, followed by the words "Need Coffee" One by one all the Avengers entered the common room, some more awake then others. "Tony where is Steve and Bucky?" Wanda asks as you take in notice that you are two short. "They left on a mission last night so for the time being it will just be us." Tony answers "Good Morning Y/N." Bruce said as he come to stand beside you. "Morning Bruce. I might need the lab later today to test out some test for healing drinks is that fine with you? "Hey I only borrow the Lab myself you best ask Tony since you know, he owns it" "I know but you are the one in there most of the time. It feels like I am invading  your space" "You can use the Lab Y/N. Do I need to remind you that you live here, you do not have to ask to use something." Tony said as he had overheard the conversation. You smile at him. Tony had become like a father figure to you over the years. "Thanks Tony."

It's not long before they all go off and do their own things, Clint goes to the shooting range, Natasha and Wanda go to the training, Bruce to the lab and Tony goes to the armory, leaving you to do your own thing. It unusually quiet this day. You so used to Bucky keeping you company while you wander through various jobs that need doing.

As the day went on you made your way down to the lab for a few hours, The Avengers went on a small mission, leaving you alone. As much as you hated them going on missions you enjoyed the quiet. You took note of the potions and ingredients and the ones that needed restocking.

"Miss Y/N. They will be returning shortly. I was informed by Mr Stark" "Thank you Jarvis, will they be requiring my assistance?"

"I am unsure Miss Y/N best to be prepared in case" You nod and gather a couple of jars in your hand and take them to the Med-bay.

"Hey kid we're home" Tony called out through the building. You make your way to them to see Nat and Clint heading to the med-bay, limping.

"There is a new stock of healing potions in there for you guys to try if you want." You smile and they nod at you as you continue your way to Tony. "How did it go Tony?" "Wasn't our best, wasn't as small as we had predicted." "That bad?" "You could say ,might be a problem in the future but not right now, also kid we have a new person for you to meet. They will be staying here for a while." He said as he poured himself a glass of whiskey. "Oh?" Now you were curious. "Yeah its Thor's brother, Loki. He will be arriving later today. If you want to join us in collecting him you are more than welcomed." "I might just do that. It has been awhile since I left the tower and I will be returning home in a couple days to grab supplies, So you will have to survive without me for about a week" Tony chuckles "You mean we have to cook our own breakfast? Oh no how will we survive." You roll your eyes at the sarcasm but smile. He pats your back as he walks out of the common room.

You head to your room and rest for a while, you slowly starting to feel the drain on your body. Closing your eyes you dream of your home, your friends and family.

A knock on your door alerts you to wake up. "Hey Lady Y/N, Stark told me to come and grab you." Only one person calls you by that nickname and its Thor so its no surprise when you open the door and see him there. "Please Thor call me Y/N. No need for formalities." "No. Lady Y/N we will be leaving soon, walk with me to the landing dock?" You nod and allow Thor to lead you to the Quin-jet. "So your brother is joining the Avengers?"

"Sadly no, he will be helping out on missions but will not be a Avenger. He is barely happy about helping us. He might even be able to help you in the Lab and with the suits." "I doubt Tony will allow anyone to touch his suits, do you remember the trouble I had when I fixed his suit the first time, I was all but grounded" "I am sure you could convince Tony to allow Loki to help?" "Ah the God of Mischief and Tony Stark agreeing on something. Is this not the same Loki that attacked New York?" You joke to the god of thunder. "The same one, I would like to think that Tony will one day sort of agree with him, he has done his time on Asgard and Father thinks this will help him amend the past." You stay quiet, you had not been here when the New York attack happened, that was the week Tony had sent you home to grab supplies, but he had filled you in on some of the details.

"Lady Y/N if you may" Thor says gesturing to the seat "We will betaking off soon." You smile and get strapped in to your seat. You stay quiet for the flight, everyone around is chatting between themselves, and joking. You pick up on bits and pieces here and thereof what they discussing.

"We might as well have a party for Reindeer games arrival." Tony says loud enough for everyone to hear. "Another party Tony? Must we, you know Loki won't like it" Nat says glaring at the male beside her. "Another reason to have it. He needs to get over it and show us that he is changing. So a party is the perfect way to do it." You sometimes wondered what went though Tony's head some days. He had to host a party for everything. He even held one for you when you finally agreed to help them. FLASHBACK It took a lot of convincing and asking for you to accept Mr. Starks offer to work for him. Some how your little secret was out in the open and now you had the richest man in the area, all but begging you to join his crew. "We could use a smart woman like you on the team. You would have your own room, hell I will even give you your own floor for your technology and gear." "Mr. Stark as much as I would love to join, I am afraid I will never fit in." "Why because your Atlantean? You do know Thor is a god, Bruce is the Hulk. You would fit in fine. I do not care what you are or where you come from."

You look at him and then look away to your garage filled with old Atlantean war machines. You could use a bigger place for them to be stored while you fix them up and get them back in the air. "Could I bring all this? I have worked to hard to give up" You wave your hands round the room. "Not to the tower, but I have a compound that we can store them at and you can go there and work on them whenever you need." "Alright Mr. Stark. I will accept." "Great and call me Tony. I will start arranging the transportation of your vehicles and your personal belongings. Please excuse me" You watch him walk out, a bit stunned at how quickly he got to setting everything up.

ENDOF FLASHBACK.

You feel Thor tapping your shoulder, you glance at him "Yes?" "We will be landing soon. Are you ok? You seem to be a bit distracted?" "Oh its all good Thor, I was just thinking." "As long as you are well Lady Y/N" A few moments alter you have landed and everyone has started leaving the Quin-jet. You look around you, nothing but grasslands for miles. Next thing you see a giant beam of light land on the ground ahead of you and in a flash it is gone, leaving nothing but a raven hair man in green armor.

Loki.

"Brother it is nice to see you again." Thor approaches the man alone. "Thor. I see you bought the whole team for this arrival. Couldn't trust me enough to come alone?" "It is not like that Loki. Do not start this" You watch the interaction between the brothers as does everyone else. No-one moves to greet him. "Come now Brother, there is someone I wish for you to meet." Thor looks in your direction. They make their way over to you. "Brother is is Lady Y/N." You bow a bit to Loki, knowing of his royal title, you have no choice but to. "Your Highness, nice to meet you" "Lady Y/N you do not need to bow to him." "Best you listen to my brother Mortal" Loki said with a smugness. You raise your head and you feel his eyes trail to your neck. You see the realization kick in once he sees your pendent. "You're Atlantean?"