#which is why i WON'T abandon this story in case that's one of your concerns (before you vote one or the other)

[destiel-wings]

context: I'm writing a LONG wip (should be 55 chapters, an actual epic story with action and plot though romantic destiel filter) and I'm thinking about when i should start posting it. Generally I'd want to finish first and post afterwards, so i can update regularly and not be distracted from the actual writing, but it's gonna take me way too long to finish it (like two years realistically??) so I'm thinking maybe i might start posting it before, even if less regularly? So i can share it with you earlier and you can engage with me as i write it?

[galvanizedfriend]

Fanfic Update: We'll Always Have New Orleans [4/14]

Summary: Caroline wakes up in a world where everything looks exactly the same, only nothing really is. For starters, she's no longer a vampire, and no one else in Mystic Falls has ever heard of witches, vampires or werewolves - no one except for Klaus, who woke up just as human and twice as angry about it. Their search for answers and a way out takes them all the way to New Orleans, and Caroline could never anticipate how much this crazy fake world was about to alter her reality forever.

[Canon!AU. Set right after TVD 4x18.]

--

Chapter 4: Follow the Yellow Brick Road ✨

Caroline half expects to find Klaus standing guard outside her window like a creep to make sure she won't back out of their road trip - which, full disclosure, she did go back and forth on the merits of it several times throughout the night. The more she thinks about it, the more absurd it seems. It's one of those things where she has to close her eyes and jump before the seat of reason in her brain gets a chance to talk her out of it.

It's precisely why, upon waking up from a horridly slept night, Caroline tries to scrub her mind clear of any practical speculations such as Klaus is not to be trusted or This is too high a risk for something that is essentially a hunch or even Thirteen long hours in a car with Klaus - the last one gives her shudders for reasons she currently doesn't possess the required bandwidth to untangle. Instead, she punches a few essentials into a bag and braces herself for the unknown. Que sera, sera. How much worse can it get, really - she thinks, and then immediately backtracks. In Mystic Falls, whenever you think you've hit rock bottom, you realize there's a trap door and ten brand new layers of shit you can fall into and keep on falling until the end of times.

She chooses to take it as a good sign that Klaus is not outside. They agreed to meet at his place and, paranoid though he was, he seems to have decided to trust that she will keep her word. She reckons the bar is currently very low, but that's progress as far as she's concerned.

But there is something outside which should not be there and, as it turns out, is way worse than Klaus: a police car.

The Sheriff is home. Read the full chapter here -- Well, it's been a hot minute. 🥲 But in case anybody was wondering, no, the story is not abandoned, I'm just slow and have more wips than I can juggle. 🙃 This update is on the shorter side (by my standards) but it took a lot of rewriting compared to the original version. It's actually two chapters combined together (4 and 5). So that means the story will now be 14 chapters long instead of 15. Woohoo! 🥳 As always, your support, comments, kudos and reblogs mean the world to me if you are so inclined. Hope you enjoy the update!

[novelmonger]

Why ICO and The Last Guardian Made Me Cry (But Shadow of the Colossus Didn't)

Semi-recently, I played through The Last Guardian for the second time on a whim, and I bawled like a baby at the ending, almost as hard as I did the first time I played it even though I knew exactly what was going to happen. The same thing happened years ago when I played ICO for the second time (possibly the third time too; I can't remember - I've played that game more times than I can count; it's my favorite game of all time). And yet, even though it's a great game made by many of the same people, I've never shed a single tear over Shadow of the Colossus. I've been trying to figure out why.

Something common to all three games is that you don't play as a particularly powerful or competent character, just one who is desperately trying to survive and achieve some goal in an often hostile world. All three games also feature a companion of some sort who can't hold conversations with you, but without whose strengths you'd be unable to get very far. You certainly can't beat the game without their help. In both the gameplay and the story, the character you play relies on someone else, and has to trust them implicitly.

In both ICO and TLG, I really felt like I had a personal relationship with my companion. I cared about them. I felt like I knew them, and the prospect of losing them was devastating. But that wasn't the case at all in SotC; at most, I felt a detached sort of concern, but that was all. And I think I may have hit on why that is:

The more control I have over the character, the less of a relationship I have with them.

(Spoilers under the cut.)

Yorda is an ethereal princess who doesn't speak the same language as Ico. She holds the mysterious power needed to open doors and help her and Ico traverse the dangerous castle they're trapped in. Locked in a tower for her whole life, unable to understand anything her would-be savior says to her, and with no experience or strength to fight against the shadowy assailants that try to drag her back to her prison, she's rather helpless on her own. But both the story and the gameplay make her presence necessary. As another child trapped in this castle, awaiting a deadly fate, Ico would never abandon her - even when he's so close to freedom he can almost taste it, he turns back without a second thought to help Yorda escape too. And it's Game Over if you let any harm come to Yorda, too. You need her magic to open doors, and if the spirits catch her, Ico will be turned to stone.

The bulk of the puzzles in the game revolve around trying to figure out how to open pathways that Yorda can actually use to move forward. She can't jump as high or as far as Ico can, so you have to be there to catch her or hoist her up. She can't fight back, so you have to defend her against the spirits (which is sometimes exhausting and often requires you to run all the way across a courtyard and barely snatch her from the jaws of death). You have to push boxes, pull switches, encourage her to get in the right place, or grab her hand and pull her along, because she doesn't know the way on her own.

But sometimes she doesn't seem to get what you're trying to tell her to do. Blame the AI or whatever you like, but sometimes you'll be calling her name over and over, beckoning to her with all your might, and she'll just kind of confusedly trot back and forth, staring at you helplessly. Ico and Yorda can't understand each other, so the only communication possible between them is of the most basic sort. I'm not even convinced they know each other's names (what Ico says when he calls her could possibly be "Yorda," or it could be "come here" or something like that in his language - and Yorda never says anything that really sounds like "Ico"). Sometimes this lack of understanding can be downright frustrating; my fondly exasperated nickname for her the first time I played was Partly Smartly ^^'

But isn't that the way real people are? You can tell them what to do, but maybe they won't understand you. Or even if they do, they might decide to do something else instead of what you're asking of them. You can't just push a button and get them to follow your plan. You have to trust each other, rely on each other, as you navigate the complicated castle of life.

It only took the first Game Over screen before I became very anxious about Yorda's safety. As frustrated as I could get sometimes when she wouldn't do what I wanted her to, I never felt completely safe except when her hand was in mine, the haptic feedback of the subtle little rumbles against my palms reassuring me that she was right there beside me. And every time I play it, when I get down to the huge front gates and the bridge reaching across to freedom, I always walk very slowly and gently while Yorda is hunched over in pain. Of course, partly that's because if you run too fast, she'll fall down over and over again. But mostly, I just don't want to hurt her. She's my friend as much as she is Ico's.

In a similar way, the relationship between the boy and Trico in TLG is basically the exact same relationship that develops between the player and Trico. The boy is small and weak, but he can crawl through small spaces and figure out how to move on. Trico is huge and strong and can glide across gaps that the boy never could, but he's also just an animal. An intelligent animal, but he still needs the boy's help to escape his captivity. They can't even make it out of the first area without each other's help.

One thing I really appreciate about TLG is the increased subtlety and nuance to the way their relationship develops, compared to Ico and Yorda. At first, the boy is afraid of Trico, but takes pity on him when he sees that Trico is frightened and in pain. Trico is wary of the boy, and it takes a little while before the two begin to see how much they need to rely on each other. First, it's an alliance born of necessity and desperation, but it doesn't take too long before a true companionship blossoms between them. Trico moans and howls when the boy is out of sight. The boy reassures him, pets him, smooths down his bloody and ruffled feathers. And then, when they're reunited after some time apart or have just faced a close call, Trico rubs his head against the boy, almost knocking him over; the boy responds with a laugh, a fond cry of, "Trico!" and caresses his huge head.

And, just like Yorda, the AI isn't a perfect one-to-one system where you press a button and the character does the thing. Even when you reach the point where the boy can start giving commands to Trico, he doesn't always do what he's told. Sometimes he just kind of looks around in confusion, sometimes he ignores you, sometimes he seems to misinterpret what you're saying and goes in the exact opposite direction you were pointing. Some people might criticize that as "bad AI," but that never really bothered me, because...isn't that how animals are? Even if you have a smart, well-trained dog who's generally very obedient, sometimes you have to repeat the command several times if he's distracted, or he'll go off and do something he knows he's not supposed to. That's just how animals are, and Trico is no different. Not being able to perfectly control him, and so often being completely dependent upon him (like certain sequences where you can't even control the boy at all), only makes the game more realistic.

It didn't take me long at all before my heart went out to Trico. I'm pretty sure it was within the first five minutes of interacting with him that I began to love him, like he was my very own giant dog/cat/bird-thing. I winced every time he got hit with a spear and I had to pull it out. I spent long, quiet minutes with him, just smoothing down his feathers and patting his head. I called out to him, then smiled when his enormous head poked curiously around a corner. I talked to him out loud, coaxing and encouraging and praising him - even though Trico is a fictional creature that's really just a bunch of polygons and a quirky AI system on my PS4. I know he can't hear or see me. But that doesn't matter. Trico is my friend.

So when I got to the climax the first time, and all the other Tricos started mauling my Trico, and tore off his tail, I was devastated, desperate, to save him. And when he limps towards the boy, then takes to the sky in that one final epic burst of strength...when the two are forced to say goodbye...that's me saying goodbye to my animal friend. We've been through so much together. It's so beautiful, so sad, so heart-wrenchingly precious.

So then...what's different about Agro? I've played SotC twice all the way through just like TLG, and thoroughly enjoyed it. It's a gorgeous game, really fun and really challenging, and is the same sort of story as the others in terms of a not-particularly-strong character desperately fighting against insurmountable odds to achieve his goal. According to director Fumito Ueda, it was fans' reactions to the horse Agro that initially inspired him to create Trico in the first place - to take that idea of an animal companion built into the fabric of the game that the player would grow attached to throughout the story.

And yet, I never got anywhere near as attached to Agro as I did to Yorda or Trico. Even when Agro falls off a cliff and you think he's dead, I only felt a detached sort of, "Oh no! Poor thing!" When similarly dire things happened to Yorda and Trico, I was gutted.

Probably part of the explanation is simply that I just didn't identify as closely with Wander or care as much about his quest. But I also think there's something to be said about how Agro always does exactly what you tell him to do. Press the button to whistle for him, he always comes trotting up. Hop on his back, and you can control him completely, turning him this way or that, speeding up or slowing down. He might fall over if a Colossus stomps a little too close, but he's always perfectly fine. There's no Game Over if something happens to him. The only harm that ever comes to him is when he falls off the cliff, and that's a scripted event.

I don't know, maybe it's just me, but I find that, because I can control Agro completely, I consider him as part of the gameplay, rather than a distinct character of his own. And so I don't have much of an emotional response to anything happening to him. At least not as much as Yorda or Trico, whom I can't fully control. And I think it's because that makes them feel more like real people.

[famiconblogs]

Dolls and Clones: Dystopias in the Dark

SPOILER FOR BOTH STORIES

Never Let Me Go (Faber & Faber Edition) by Kazuo Ishiguro / AX Vol 152 (April 2023) with cover art by Kouichi Matsuda

What do Kazuo Ishiguro’s “Never Let Me Go” and Nakamura Taichi’s “Doll Thief” (Ningyou Dorobou) have in common, you may be wondering. The two authors that I've chosen for this article can seem a little bit unexpected: an award-winning and renowned Nobel Prize writer and an emerging mangaka who had recently won a rookie award in an alternative manga magazine. Not always the obvious choice of comparison, even more so with the different mediums they both work in. But background differences don't matter, because both of these amazing authors have managed to create dystopias that leave you scrambling in the dark, trying to find your way through the subdued horrors of their worlds.

Final disclaimer before moving on, but this article will be spoiling both stories heavily, so continue reading at your own peril!

Artificial Humans

As you may have noticed from the title, the stories I've chosen deal with issues centred on the existence of artificial humans alongside people. For Ishiguro's novel, they're primarily labelled as 'donors' - clones with no reproductive ability raised and harvested for their organs. For Nakamura's manga, they're referred to as 'dolls', brought up on a farm to be later bought by the rich. In both cases, we see these human reproductions grown, purchased and 'used' - a term that can mean that they either end up dead, or have their purpose reduced to that of a trophy. Either way, they're trapped.

Concerning the ethics of creating and using artificial humans, there is endless discourse on the for and against, a debate which I won't be discussing too much in this article. My main focus will instead be on the storytelling methods of both authors, characterised by an abstinence from exposition until fully necessary. Ishiguro holds out until you are at your most vulnerable, while Nakamura leaves you hanging in shock and disbelief. Sometimes not saying anything is all that needs to be said. Despite their differences in the ways they utilise, or abandon, exposition, you're left in a constant state of confusion. Where is everyone? Who are these artificial beings? Why are they made, and what does the world outside the prison wall look like?

Never Let Me Go: Betrayal

I'll begin first by talking about "Never Let Me Go" (2005), one of Ishiguro's most well-known books that was also adapted into a live-action film (2010) by director Mark Romanek. I personally haven't watched the movie, but the novel has already given me enough heartbreak for a lifetime.

To briefly summarise the plot, we follow narrator Kathy as she recounts her upbringing in Hailsham, a school for clones. As the story progresses, we're thrown more and more clues on how the world outside operates and why they're all forced to isolate themselves from the 'normal' people. It's a coming-of-age story that becomes all the more devastating as Ishiguro drops a shocking twist after hundreds of pages of teasing and holding out on the truth.

Plot aside, I want to discuss Ishiguro's control of tension and 'abstinence from exposition'. Yes, there is exposition throughout the book, but never enough to properly fill you in on the world and what makes it a dystopia. Only hints, only clues, only little nudges in the right direction for most of the book. Kathy's perspective and view of her surroundings is naturally limited, which acts a perfect vantage point that unites us with her confusion and frustration. More clues are dropped on various terminology like 'donors', 'carers' and 'completion', all pointing towards an imminent doom for the clones. You either 'complete' and have your organs harvested, or you become a 'carer', only briefly delaying your 'completion' as you tend to other 'donors'. It's a heart-breaking system that is only made all the more emotional as we see Kathy and her friends praying to false hopes, desperately searching for a way out and another purpose for their lives. Nothing is ever revealed to us clearly by Ishiguro for most of the book; we only know what the clones know. He abstains from revelations until we really need it, finally dumping everything we want to know at the end of the book. It’s this constant nudging and teasing that Ishiguro uses to keep us at an arm's length from the truth, but is still able to simulate the feeling of being lost in the dark.

The Soul

The Gallery is a museum of art pieces and creative works done by clones that are displayed to the outside world. A rumour surrounds it: some believe clones are spared from being harvested if their creative work shows they have a 'soul'. This soul is the equivalent to humanity, and our main couple endeavour to create works that show 'true love' in hopes of both being spared. They pin their entire future on their success in showing their 'humanity' through art, merely a false hope.

But what comes of it? What happens after they spend their entire lives governed by this rumour, and finally come into contact with the one that will reveal all, the Madame?

After going the entire book without understanding much about the world, Ishiguro uses the Madame to drop a lengthy exposition that details everything about the dystopia. Clones had revolutionised medicine after a war. Normal people wilfully ignored the inhumane treatment of clones. Hailsham was actually a pro-clone institution, aiming to use The Gallery to show whether the clones even had a soul to being with. And finally, a recent scandal involving clone ethics had evaporated all support for Hailsham and anyone else who was pro-clone. All of this information triggers intense emotions as we try to process everything, but satisfaction is also felt at finally understanding everything about the dystopian world of "Never Let Me Go". But things don't end there; it's not as easy as that. Their deaths are still imminent, but what makes it even worse are the subtle implications of the Madame's tone.

"You poor creatures."

Her mission was to show that the clones had humanity, but her way of talking, specifically this repeated term of "creatures", suggests that she never could bridge the gap between viewing them as clones and seeing them as humans like her. Their supposed saviour still couldn't fully embrace them as humans. That is the betrayal that had broke me the most: the Madame's hypocrisy of failing to see them as humans herself.

Looking back, you realise how patient Ishiguro must have been in writing "Never Let Me Go". I would pin 80% of the novel being a slow-burn, with the true nature of the dystopia only being revealed at the very end. And even then, he still manages to prevent the long-awaited exposition from becoming a superficial info-dump by showcasing the hypocrisy mentioned above. The Madame was a more subtle embodiment of it, but her assistant Mrs Emily had much more to say. I'll end this section with a passage from her below because I feel like it very much speaks for itself.

“[The Madame] has given everything for you. She has worked and worked and worked. Make no mistake about it, my child, [the Madame] is on your side and will always be on your side. Is she afraid of you? We’re all afraid of you. I myself had to fight back my dread of you all almost every day I was at Hailsham. There were times I’d look down at you all from my study window and I’d feel such revulsion . . .”

She stopped, then something in her eyes flashed again.

“But I was determined not to let such feelings stop me doing what was right. I fought those feelings and I won. Now, if you’d be so good as to help me out of here, George should be waiting with my crutches.”

Doll Thief: A Short Masterpiece

Beginning pages of Nakamura Taichi's "Doll Thief"

AX issue 152 revealed the rookie award results for the year of 2023, judged by Yoshizumi Tomohiko, Hayashi Seiichi and Minami Shinbo. I'm very familiar with Hayashi's work in Garo, and know of Minami's contributions to the same magazine as an editor, illustrator and essayist. Unfortunately, I don't know much about Yoshizumi. Each of these judges picked a work they thought best deserved to win, and Nakamura's 16-page story was selected by Minami as a recipient of the prize. It's very much shorter in length than Ishiguro's novel by a long mile, but Nakamura still manages to instill the same feeling of being left in the dark. He uses the same method of refraining from any exposition or direct explanations of the world, and in doing so heightens the impact of the climactic and bone-chilling ending. But first, before any comparisons, I'll have to explain the plot.

"Doll Thief" opens with a shot of a farm with a sign titled "National Doll Manufacturing Farm". We follow a few of these dolls playing in a field, each of them dressed up in full pyjama-like costumes featuring different animal ears. In the distance, an unnamed man spies on one of the dolls named Nebosuke, and eventually makes his move, capturing him successfully. The other dolls are left confused after noticing his disappearance. At this point in the story, minimal dialogue is used, and your attention is focused on this strange setting. Farms, dolls, people in costumes, animal ears, thieves. You're thrown straight in with no explanation, a similarity with the start of Ishiguro's "Never Let Me Go".

Nebosuke eventually wakes up and demands to be freed, obviously being denied by the thief. He ominously asks the thief:

"You know you're a [Doll Thief] right? Where are you stealing me off to?"

Does this imply that there are many doll thieves in this world? How common is it for dolls to be stolen from their farms, and what do they do with them? The thief very quickly answers that his motivation is money; he already has a buyer lined up for Nebosuke. At that comment, Nebosuke asks whether he'd sell for a lot of money, opening up some opportunity for the thief to tell us a little bit more about the world.

"This country is shit. It's a rural country, but the doll manufacturing capabilities here are outstanding. Among the foreign rich, owning a doll is a symbol of status. They'll spend any amount of money to get their hands on one."

From that brief paragraph explanation, our mind immediately starts searching for other possibilities on what these rich do with the dolls. We are never told anything else other than their being a symbol of status. Nor are we told how the dolls are manufactured and how 'human' they are, though we can gather that they're extremely well-made from Nebosuke's mannerisms and qualities. Much like Ishiguro, Nakamura keeps us in the dark, to great effect.

"All the same, I'm going home."

Immediately after hearing the thief's explanation, Nebosuke stands and responds with that line. The next scene below pictures his suicide, a series of panels surveying his remains against a desolate and empty road. The silence of these pages hit hard, especially with how quick the death is portrayed.

Trophies

Keep in mind that "Doll Thief" is a measly 16 pages, but is still able to tell you so much about its world. From the plot summary, the similarities between Nakamura's and Ishiguro's storytelling methods are clear. Both leave you alone in their worlds and let you figure out the rest with minimal assistance until it's fully necessary. The thief's detail on the value of dolls as symbols of status open up so much potential for the world, and yet never divulges any further than what's needed. We're left wondering if dolls like Nebosuke are displayed as trophies, or if there's something more sinister that they're used for.

Which brings me to my next point, that being the dystopian aspect of this world. At first, calling the world of "Doll Thief" a dystopia may seem a little off, but if you compare the use of these artificial humans with the 'donors' in "Never Let Me Go", it becomes a little easier to grasp. Both artificial entities are grown/created, but instead of being harvested like the 'donors', the dolls are sold off to rich buyers. The thief's kidnapping implies Nebosuke is being sold in an illegal market, but their purposes still remain the same whether they're sold legally or not: as trophies. The other dolls were seen playing quite happily at the start of the story, a parallel with the seemingly normal school life and childhood of Kathy and her friends. The stages from birth to cultivation to 'ripeness' remain the same for both stories, both told in a way that culminates in impactful and emotional endings. And it's these two oppressed and trapped groups of artificial humans that bear their futures being stunted by the human society that governs them.

Although Nakamura shares similarities with Ishiguro's in media res and his minimal exposition, he holds one difference. The ending of "Doll Thief" is completely silent. No final exposition like the Madame's is included, and no further details are provided about issues like the ethics and discourse behind doll manufacturing. We are solely left with the thief as he picks up the remains of Nebosuke, the camera zooming out until they become a tiny speck of dust in the distance.

The camera zoom is especially effective in showing how small of a scale this particular story was. This was just one doll kidnapping at one random farm in the middle of nowhere. What else is happening at the farm after the kidnapping? Who runs the farm? What sort of people are the buyers, and what are the politics involved with this business since the doll trade is international? So much more isn't revealed to us, keeping us in the dark, but Nakamura does it so tastefully. Even the thief's facial expression is veiled by the shadows drawn on his face. So much mystery shrouds Nakamura's world, but despite never revealing anymore info, he sticks with it and leaves the reader with a jaw-dropping ending.

Final Thoughts

The comparison between both of these stories came to mind while I was thinking about what to do for my next post. "Doll Thief" had instantly reminded me of "Never Let Me Go", a thought that came up immediately after reading it. The way that the authors leave you confused and in the dark, the way they masterfully tell you about the world without ever revealing too much until it's necessary. For Ishiguro, he lets it build until he unleashes it all at the end. For Nakamura, he prefers the silent route, leaving you to process and think things over yourself. In both cases, the ends of their stories aren't the end of the dystopia. There is infinitely more for the reader to think about after finishing the stories, and it's especially made enjoyable and worth investing your time because of their ability to lure you in. The past, present and future of these dystopias remain a shrouded mystery, but Ishiguro and Nakamura have provided you with the stepping stones necessary to really think about how expansive their worlds can really be.

Thanks for reading!

[nanakah]

about Ishigami, his growth and Miko's role

most people, myself included, thought at some point that Tsubame's rejection (or acceptance) could wrap up Ishigami's arc and even his past's flashbacks neatly, but Osaragi's arc suddenly revealing there was more to his relationship with Miko made me reflect more and think nah...if anything we're halfway there. It also showed glimpses of him already struggling to find his place in the world by quitting his clubs, even though he was successful at them and there was no Ootomo incident yet to undermine his self-image.

It seemed odd that despite everything he went through he still has his "hair=shield/averting eyes" theme going strong, but it makes sense if you consider even though Tsubame helped him see the way to be more accepting of people and cleared his name, his self-esteem still is super low. I spoke of this in my "sutera" meta, but to Ishigami, his life still has been a sucession of failures and almosts. At his core, he still hasn't fully opened up to people or learned to use his vulnerabilities to his advantage.

If I have grabbed your interest thus far, keep reading for more considerations!

Tsubame is kind to anyone and attempted to do good for him, but ultimately he was never fully himself around her, nor she tried/he alllowed her reaching out to the deepest parts of his insecurities. She doesn't show her own flaws to him either and to this day we get the feeling we don't know her well, just the best parts that Ishigami wanted to see. Kaguya, Miyuki and Chika contribute a lot in a sibling-like way, but there's a limit to how much Kaguya in particular can inspire him. Miko however, has scratched a little beneath the surface and has expressed an interest in helping him with that, even if he himself is still avoiding the topic. She's also more relatable to him in the sense that the rest of the stuco has a history of successes in their lives, while he was able to watch Miko's hardships and failures closely. Their panic attacks even look similar and they're always watching the other to provide backup (in a very roundabout way, at least before) when they happen.

While their personalities are fundamentally different, his arc and struggles remind me a lot of Miyamura from Horimiya and today, as I was musing on what is so different about them as of now, I believe it's how Miyamura didn't have a single *traumatic* mistake to get over, so he goes down his development road much faster. Putting it another way, it's ultimately that Ishigami hasn't yet learned to be kind to himself like Miyamura has through Hori. Like Shirogane and Kaguya are through themselves. In Miyamura's case, sympathizing with how Hori despite her strong exterior can be very fragile inside but still support him (fight for him, defend him, accept his true self, not judge him, hear him, make him feel good enough) made him feel compelled to grow stronger to protect her back.

Miko as she was at the beggining of the story couldn't provide Ishigami this sort of stability (and that's where Osaragi's "prettier story"/"you weren't there for him" reasoning fails) even if deep down she wanted to, but now after making many mistakes, learning from them and becoming more flexible, she absolutely can. Both Ishigami and Miko have deeply rooted issues that took them more than just each other to flesh out and develop, but they're very much the missing puzzle piece the other needs.

Miko still very much has room for growth as well, mainly concerning finding a middle ground between her "bad girl" and "good girl" personas that Ishigami can easily see through, as demonstrated by the consolation chapter. She tried being "bad", she attempted lying but was still saying half-truths, because her love of justice isn't just out of parental abandonment issues or loneliness - she does believe them sincerely. The moment Ishigami headpated her and shared genuine, spot-on words of concern and admiration (thus a hint of fondness), it was all over for her trying to keep up the love-warfare upper hand.

That's not actually new - Ishigami has always demonstrated he was able to see glimpses of her true self, be it teasing how she's an otaku or a closet pervert and such, he never fully bought the strait-laced image she aspired to make real. But it did take him being around her more to see she could be sweet to him and as he puts it, that smiling more is not a bad look on her. Miko says to Osaragi your true self only comes through interacting with others, so given how lonely she has always been (and how the one person close to her - Osaragi - was actually keeping things between them superficial because of her own problems), it's no surprise she's only finding out now who she is. Ishigami can help Miko find a better compromise of good/bad after both not following any rules at all for so long and recently learning that hard work can pay off. Miko immersing herself in his hobby will clash with her rigid study schedule sooner or later, and he'll know how to help her with that better than anyone else.

On the other hand, Ishigami's moral compass, romanticism (love for flowers, planing dates etc) and idealism aren't things he is proud of...yet. He protects himself with layers of cynism, especially in his first appearances, but he is always being contradictory and letting it slip how idealistic/pure he is at heart. He also is only now learning to like his outward image with things like fitness/studying and finding out it's not like he never cared about it - it's just that he was scared shitless of failure, thus never even tried hard in the first place to avoid being hurt. And as I have advocated for in the Sutera post, I expect Miko in some level to help him come to terms with seeing good in himself. Heck, even being able to game with her now and showing off how good he is and having her appreciate it is gonna do wonders to make him feel more "adequate". Tsubame's arc had a lot of him changing himself to become "better", but Miko on the other hand is trying to put herself in HIS shoes to maybe go "hey, I like you as you are. I'm trying to understand you more and put effort in for you".

Ishigami and Miko start out watching out for each other behind their backs - which instead of helping their relationship, drives them further apart because they think the other side is showing no appreciation. As the story progresses, they're slowly learning to make each other more aware of their support, and it is making them open up more in general.

They have a strong belief the other wants to be rescued and there is truth in that. Both want help and to be recognized for their efforts, but won't cry out for it. In the unplugged earbuds chapter Ishigami takes it upon himself to protect Miko's reputation in spite of himself, the election arc has him actually putting effort into the campaign just for the sake of protecting her and at first posing as a rival of hers to Shirogane only to reveal he's trying to "make Miko smile", he is constantly fending off men from interacting with her as protection (while also sounding jealous), he was way more protective of her when she was wearing that cast than needed and is now being able to openly headpat her and sounds almost like her "soothing sounds" from the days of yore lol Sure Tsubame seems like his start to becoming "a better man", but all the way back on the election, it was for Miko's sake that we first SEE him putting effort into *anything* without being coerced by anyone to take action.

And while it's more discreet compared to Ishigami's "white knight" attitude, Miko also tries hard to protect him - cheering him on during the sports festival race and wanting to console him before the stuco intervened, telling him he should study (but he thinks it's just nagging), christmas (which I'll elaborate bellow), making sure he was able to graduate middle school by actually confronting school staff and, of course, their very first meeting as recently revealed.

Many people hated the entirety of Osaragi's arc, but 232 gave very juicy info indeed. Ishigami's reason for supporting Miko from the shadows comes from admiration AND part gratitude for her attempting to talk to him and listen to what troubles him, and seeing they actually had a "falling out" argument was game changing.

He looks sad and troubled to have shut her down there, not simply angry, and so does she (there's tears in her eyes when her face is shown in the next page) - despite her black and white sense of justice at this point of the story, she still wanted to listen to him. And even after that outburst she still believed the rumors weren't real, unlike Osaragi sees it - otherwise she wouldn't have made the effort for him to be able to move on to high school. Why would she care, if she truly hated him and thought he was in the wrong?

If any further proof was needed at all that this info is important, I'm happy to say we have more. I noticed the Christmas stairs scene mirrors this exact falling out moment: "Go away"/"Suit yourself"

But this time Miko had already decided to change, had already seen the mess their relationship became the last time she did not reach out to him and thus already had their previous falling out in mind - meaning she decides to chase after him.

I don't like how the scanlations handled this scene because reading the japanese raws, my interpretation was that Miko was sounding "annoying" because she was still kinda drunk/unfiltered and freaking out when talking to Ishigami, not outright berating him like the Jaimini's box translation made it look like. She also sounds too angry after the fall, so I generally thought Viz's version (the panel shown above) was closer to the original.

"I always have to take care of you! You keep putting youself in danger. You can't make it on your own." is a better translation than Jaimini's, and also parallels better what Ishigami is often telling Miko as well (That she keeps putting herself in danger and that he has to be around to keep her in check). But with 232 in mind, I think it misses a nuance of the original line: "ほんとあんたは 私が居ないと危なっかしく駄目ね" - "Honto anta wa watashi ga inaito abunakkashiku dame ne" - while I'm a novice at japanese studies, gathering from what I can read and trying to get a feel of the whole sentence, it's closer to "So it really is dangerous to you if I'm not there/ It's no good if I'm not around you". You can take that as her being full of herself, which is the route Jaimini's goes ("You'd be screwed without me") but that's too hostile - Viz's got the spirit of wanting to protect him better, but the original has an implication that she has "tested not being there"/failed being there before (due to not fully siding with him in middle school) that's absent elsewhere.

IMO the reason Ishigami's "closed his eyes" arc is not over yet is because he hasn't accepted or gotten over or fully learned from his past yet, he simply shut it down. That's why briefly during the sports festival his eyes are in plain view, then go back to their usual for the balloon gag. I'm not sure if Ootomo herself will make a comeback, may or may not - regrets are regrets and sometimes the only solution to them is letting them stay in the past. But the topic of how he saw Miko in middle school and the letter certainly are being set up to still show up in the story.

If I compare him to Miyamura again, he'd still be at the point before Miyamura's haircut - not wanting to face the parts of himself he doesn't like, not quite ready to change. Not quite ready to patch up his own wounds yet and instead silencing everything from his past.

In this sense, Miko does wonders to make him feel more confident even if he hasn't realized it yet, and she's always dropping little hints she'd like him to worry about his future not in a naggy way, but because she genuinely prays for his success. He unconsciously wants Miko to think well of him and it fills him with confidence and a more prideful image of himself he doesn't really display to anyone else, not even Tsubame - like his usages of "ore" (a more manly/confident way of addressing himself) around her (AND HER ALONE):

( I don't like the available translations to the staircase scene either, lol. Zaibatsu has conveyed the tone of the second scene up there perfectly. For the staircase line, I've seen "I'll be there to catch you" and "I'll save you" which are contextually correct, but to me the original "俺が絶対守る" - "I (ore) will absolutely protect you" carries a much more romantic nuance or ambiguity, regardless of him realizing it at that point. It's like, the title to one of the most romantic moments/songs in the CCS Clear card anime ost, for instance. OF COURSE MIKO LOVES HIM. The narrator doesn't overexplain or take apart Ishimiko's interactions like for Prezguya, but all the evidence needed is there. And I gotta add the very next chapter to the staircase one is the "eternal love" x "real love" I'm super fond of that says fate is irrelevant and to find real love you must use your head to realize/understand things, so makes the romantic subtext even greater.)

This whole affair is also making me open my eyes that I should try to study japanese more...of course I'm happy to have translations and scanlators working hard, but there is something inherently lost in adaptations because it robs you of connecting with the author's intentions unless it was the author who wrote the translation in the first place

Thinking back on Ishigami's early "i wanna die/i'm going home/don't look at me" role, it seems unbelievable we're at the point he's now able to directly confront a "stranger" (lololol) or make serious promises with so much confidence.

PLEASE DON'T END SO SOON MANGA, I NEED MORE.

( off-topic kind of, but i'm lazy to make a separate post just for it: Since I mentioned things lost in translation, I saw something on Discord about Ishigami having an unreliable narrator moment in the "compliments" chapter/Iino Miko cannot love part 4 and holy molly, it is true. He first says something akin to "You're just too beautiful" out of context, Miko HEARS IT - and that's why she looks so shocked before asking for clarification - and he DID SAY IT in the speech bubble, but after she's nice to him and he thinks back to what he said he adds a "Your handwriting is just too beautiful" to his flashback. I'm ONTO HIM. ONTO HIM I SAY. It is what he meant, but it's like his mouth betrayed him. Whether it's unconscious or denial...it totally is something. The scanlation completely skips this and had the same line both times it's mentioned.)

[magicalgirlfan666]

Alfea's Magical Girl Fairy School (Winx Club Reader Insert)

Chapter 1: First Day & Dormmates

This Winx Club Fanfic was brought to you by DragonStar sponsored by Winxwasmychildhood.org which was made possible by viewers like you enjoy 

Fair warning: not everything that's going to go down in this will be from the tv series since I like doing my own thing with fanfics that I write so just so you don't get confused I placed this here as a heads up. Now you know.

P.S this is a reader insert that means you are the Main Character of the story.

______: First name

(I will be giving you an eye color I hope that you don't mind ^^')

(h/c) Hair color

(Same with skin color again I hope you won't mind)

I will be giving you the last name this time.   

_______________________

Finally, I have now come of age to attend Alfea, it was something that I have been looking forward to going. In hopes of improving upon my magical powers and gaining what I need to be a good queen to my people. My Mother and Father also warn me to not only study but to be on look out for any royalty students attending as well so that I may make good relationships with them to help further prosper our kingdom.

But to only seek out royalty anything other than studying and bettering myself is unnecessary thus deserving no further attention, and I had no plans on going against it for nothing else piques my interest.

For I was taught to have nothing else to gain my interest other than my kingdom: Frozonia, if it prospers I prosper. Anything and everything I do is for it and it alone. No desires for myself no wants or needs for myself other than the want and need for a glorious kingdom.

It didn't take long for me to arrive to Alfea, there were a bunch of other girls at the front waiting for Griselda to finishing verifying if rather or not they belonged here. One girl was having a bit of trouble since Griselda was having trouble finding her name on the list and it wasn't til the girl told the older woman how her name was spelled did she finally spot the name and allowed her access.

The red head in front of me appeared to be worried as the two whispered about something, I saw the blonde female rip apart a letter for a reason unknown to me before approaching Griselda.

"Hello Ms. G this is Princess Varanda the princess of Callisto" I glanced to the redhead who was acting funny, I found it odd about how she was acting when being introduced but wrote it off as none of my concern, Griselda argued over the blonde who's name I now learned was Stella, return to Alfea especially after what she did to their science class to which Stella replied on how her parents did pay for some of the school's new stuff.

I was getting a bit annoyed at having to wait for the pair to finish their chit-chat, have preferred that they have this kind of personal chat when she doesn't have to allow access to a bunch of girls waiting to get in but since I have been taught to keep these sort of things in check so I knew not to voice this. 

Though I was also taught to offer my honest thoughts and opinions and to be blunt a queen as no time for beating around the bush since I was not asked there was no need. My people though blunt and truthful with what we say, we tend to be a silent and quiet bunch only speaking when spoken too or when necessary.

 I didn't deem now necessary, finally, they finished and I was finally next. "Name?"

"_____ Frosthart Princess of planet Crystria" I answered with a stoic face and a voice void of any emotion. 

"Ah yes I see your name right here, go right ahead" I wasted no time walking through the gates and into Alfea, soon the head mistress Faragonda showed up and give a big speech before we were allowed to go inside when she finished. I quickly located my room and it appears two of my dormmates where already here.

One was a orange-blonde hair girl with a bob-cut hairstyle and hazel eyes, the other a fair-skinned girl with long, chest length brown hair with neatly brushed bangs above her eyes, while she has a strand or two hang over her shoulders with sea blue eyes. Both girls appeared friendly enough as they greeted me.

"Hi I'm Amaryl and this is my friend Francine" The two offered a kind and friendly smiles as they stuck their hands out for me to shake. I stared for a brief second before accepting their kind gesture.

"So would you happen to be Looma or ______?" Francine asked, before I could respond another voice spoke up. All three of us turned to the entrance of the room where the voice originated from.

Standing there a was brown hair, green eyes girl with her hair styled into a tight bun and two braids in the front. Her eyes shone bright with kindness and excitement. "Hello" She greeted kindly, placing her right hand on her chest. "I'm Looma and it would seem that from now and we will be dormmates" 

"Ah so then that would make you _______" Francine said before returning Looma's greetings, as they started to converse I went to my room and used my magic to unpack everything. It wasn't long before Looma walked in still smiling.

"Looks like you already picked your side of the room" She said as she walked over to the other side and did the same as me with her magic as she unpacked I noticed she had a lot more clothes than I so it was safe to assume that she was really into clothing and fashion. She also had a few other things to make her own clothing.

"You weren't there when I told the others but if you ever need any clothing or some specially made feel free to ask all I need are some cool stuff to make them out of or if you want just buy some off me, it's really no trouble since I'm always making more than I really need" She gave an awkward laugh when addressing her lack of self-control on making clothing.

I don't really think that I will be needing any clothing specially made from her or to purchase any off her anytime soon but did make sure to keep note of it just in case. You never know when this knowledge might come in handy.

I nodded to let her know that it was acknowledged, she smiled in returned and started going over to the desk she unpacked and got to designing something that I can only assume was clothing.

I didn't have anything planned so I just sat down on my bed reading as my roommate hummed while drawing which I didn't mind since I would only tune it out once I get adsorbed onto the book.  And in no time at all I was soon lost into a land of my own.

That is until a rabbit came out of nowhere and hopped right onto my book and soon a girl's voice shouted out a name that wasn't mine or any of my dormmates. 

"Kiko!" She came rushing in and stopped once her blue orbs landed on the gray little bunny who was smiling sheepishly, they soon turned to me as she took notice that he was standing on my book. 

"I'm so sorry, I don't know why he went running off like that" She appeared to be genuinely sorry for her rabbit's actions as she stared into my icy blue eyes. 

I looked at her for a bit before turning my gaze to her rabbit and picking him up, the moment my hands made contact with his tiny little body he started to shiver but it wouldn't last too long since he would soon be in his master's hands as I handed him over. 

"It is fine any damage done I can easily fix but do try to be careful next time" She nodded as she took the little bunny in her hand's as he immediately started to warm up.

"Right it won't" She nodded as I returned to my book. She got the hint that I didn't wish to speak anymore and soon left as I picked up where I unwillingly left off. 

I finally reached the end of my book and was left wondering why did the main character make such a choice? Why did they choose to abandon their kingdom for someone else? It didn't make sense, no matter how many times I read books like this I could never figure it out. 

Since the day I was born I was told that the kingdom and the people's welfare were to be placed above all else which means doing whatever was necessary to make sure that our kingdom was prospering. 

So for her to make such a decision only leads to one thing for me to believe since it was the only thing that made sense, her tutors didn't educate her well enough at all, I just hope that other kingdoms in this story learn from this and never hire that person again.

I sighed as I placed my book onto the stand next to me and soon realizing that it was now night time, I must have missed lunch.... I look over to check on Looma and she was still drawing, I get up to tap her on the shoulder which startled her.

"Oh it's you, sorry you kind of scar-" Her eyes glanced around the room before landing back on me. "Um.. is it night time?" I nodded.

"Darn that means I miss lunch" She pouted before looking to me again. "Why didn't you say anything?" I pointed to my book.

"After finishing my book I was only now made aware" She looked over at my stand(no that's not a jojo reference) before nodding and then smiling. 

"I guess that means we are sort of alike only we get far too absorbed in different things" She giggled before yawning. "Well not that it matters now I'm far too tired to eat anyway" She stood from her seat heading over to her bed.

"I'm going to head off to bed, night" She hopped into the bed pulling the sheets over her as I soon deiced to do the same as well.

Closing my eyes I soon drifted to sleep, one that was dreamless as usual for me they normally were anyway. It happens so often that I can't remember if I ever had dreams before or maybe I just simply can't remember them... whatever the case it doesn't really matter all that much anyway.....   

___________

Okay so, this has already been posted on my watt pad and quotev, and is how it will be staying, the next parts will be drafts and possible outcomes

[boxofbadaddiction]

Trust You to Cheapen the Moment

George Weasley x Reader

This story is inspired from a request of my F.R.I.E.N.D.S Themed Prompt List.

Prompts: 8 & 12

"Come on, [y/n or Character] just take off your shirt and tell us!"/"you're over me? When were you...under me?"

Warnings: Sexual innuendo. Swearing.

"Congratulations on a great game tonight boys!" Lee Jordan called as Fred and George entered through the portrait hole, still sporting their Quidditch uniforms which were currently soaked in sweat.

"Thanks mate" the Twins replied in unison.

The match had been against Ravenclaw and although Gryffindor naturally won, it hadn't been an easy feat. One which involved George coping a rather nasty bludger to the ribs. As such their win inevitably concluded with a stern lecture from their team Captain, Oliver Wood who remarked their performance as "sloppy". This being the reason as to why they were late to their own victory party.

"Well, hello boys" [Y/N] called as she made her way toward the three boys by the entrance, accompanied by a friend of her own. "Playing a tad messy these days, aren't we?" She goaded with a cheeky grin.

"Oh, alright [Y/N]! Red Hot you are. Sounding frightfully like our beloved Captain." Fred replied as everyone laughed.

[Y/N]s attention fixed to George as her face wore a notably more sincere expression. "How you feeling, Georgie?" "Like I took a bludger to the guts." He chuckled somewhat painfully. "I'll live, just need a good hot shower and to get out of this sweat drenched uniform." He tugged at the tight fabric which clung uncomfortably to his skin.

"I'll happily help you out of it, if you find yourself in need of a spare set of hands?" [Y/N] wriggled her eyebrows. Smiling at his friends innuendo George ran his tongue over his bottom lip before raising his own brows, as if contemplating the girls offer.

"Yeah, alright you two, wrap it up!" Fred intervened pushing the pair back by their shoulders as if stopping a fight. "George, as much as I'm with you on that shower and change idea, need I remind you we have a...previous engagement to attend to." He pointedly looked to his brother.

"What 'previous engagement'" Lee questioned.

"Super secret Weasley Twin Business." Fred winked.

"I can't believe you're leaving me out of your super secret twin business!" Lee protested, feigning dejection.

"Sorry, Lee" George offered a consoling smile. "Forget you. What about ME!" [Y/N] interrupted. "Come off it, there's no way you planned a prank without me..."

"But we did" they shrugged. "It's nothing for you to worry your pretty little head over" George teased with a pout. "What is it?" Lee asked, but the two remained quiet.

"Oh, come on, George. Just take off your shirt and tell us!" [Y/N] spat with a wicked grin. George stepped toward her slowly placing both of his large hands either side of her jaw and peering into her eyes. He leant down so his mouth was centimetres from her skin, whispering into her ear "Not happening, lovely." His hands slid down her neck, passing over her shoulders before finally retreating at they met her elbows. He smiled at the ever so faint blush that fanned her cheeks. "Okay, fine. So you won't tell us. But seriously...where'd we land on the shirt situation?" [Y/N] yanked on the uniform fabric playfully while biting her lip.

"Oh would you two just fuck already! This whole teasing thing makes my stomach turn." The other Weasley rolled his eyes before grabbing hold of his brothers wrist, "come on, lover boy. We've got mischief to attend to." He pulled George away from the group of friends, but not before he was able to send a suggestive wink to [Y/N] over his shoulder.

Fred did have a point when you thought about it. [Y/N] and George had been friends since first year after spending a day in detention together for being caught out past curfew, for separate reasons. [Y/N] and the Twins always had a playful relationship and it seemed impossible for them to go more than three minutes without making a joke or coming up with some new prank idea or bet between the three of them. The relationship between [Y/N] and George however, over the years, became substantially more provocative. Never becoming physical by any means, mainly they just threw a lot of innuendos toward one another. Just a bit of harmless, totally platonic, flirting really.

It'd been that way since their fourth year which makes it a few years now that Fred has found himself uncomfortably situated between the two obviously pining best friends, whom continuously deny any such feelings of course.

While the Twins had set off on their...other business, that left the remaining three to enjoy the Post-match festivities currently unfolding within the Gryffindor common room.

A little while into the celebrations, [Y/N] and her friend found themselves accompanied by some of the more eligible bachelors of Gryffindor Tower, about ankle deep in discarded Butterbeer and Fire Whiskey bottles.

"Come on, [Y/N] how's about a dance?" Dustin, a rather attractive boy she knew, spoke with an endearing smile gracing his face. "Flattered as I am by your proposal, I must decline." She slurred. "Why not?" The boy reached for her hand tracing small circles on the soft skin with his thumb while he stared into her eyes. "Because I don't fucking want to." The girl laughed retracting her hand from his. "Excuse us, won't you boys?" Her friend stood, pulling [Y/N] up with her. "Uh-oh...I'm in trouble" she faked concern before breaking into giggles as she was pulled from the common room.

Finding herself promptly being dragged down a flight of stairs into the adjoining corridor which, given the time, was obviously eerily abandoned.

"What's the matter with you?"

"Uuhh you mean aside from the fact my buzz was just absolutely murdered after being ripped away from a party I was thoroughly enjoying? Not much." She rolled her eyes. "I mean, why do you keep turning Dustin down? You know he fancies you! Why not give him a chance?" Her friends voice was sincere and a little giddy as she questioned. "Because I am not interested in Dust Bin." [Y/N] doubled over in laughter at her own joke. Latching on firmly to her friends shirt in an attempt to remain upright. Cackling styled laughter reverberated off the deserted corridor walls as [Y/N] was being shushed and told to compose herself. "Quiet [Y/N]!" her friend giggled at the state of her. "Is it, you're not interested in Dustin, because you're still hung up on George?" "Pffft, Pah-LEASE I am so over George." She slurred with a dramatic shove of the friends shoulder.

"You're over me?" The words called from behind her and like a cool breeze on the nape of her neck chills ran sharp through her spine. [Y/N]'s eyes widened while the friend infront of her smiled brightly, sending a taunting wave her way before disappearing back up the stairs to the common room. "When were you...under me?" The girl couldn't bring herself to turn around, she could practically hear that devious smirk playing on his voice. Her body was rigid as her blood ran cold. Talk about a sobering experience. Shutting her eyes tightly to muster the courage she tentatively began to turn her body, facing the boy with a painfully embarrassed grimace.

"You heard too much of that for me to get out of this on some elaborate lie, didn't you?"

"Yep." George stood smugly before her. Hands deep in his trouser pockets as he'd obviously had that shower and change he were so desperately craving. He looked good. White button up with the sleeves scrunched above his elbows haphazardly and a lazy Gryffindor tie around his neck. [Y/N] found herself having to swallow a lump in her throat at the sight. "Right from the rather insensitive comment made of my good mate...Dust Bin." The ginger chuckled taking a few steps forwards.

[Y/N] let out a long, defeated, sigh turning her head over her shoulder in thought. Her jaw clicked as she contemplated her next words carefully. If only she could think of anything to say. She was fumbling over various syllables, all of which were incoherent. George laughed at her nervousness and held a hand out for her to take, "Come here." He spoke softly. What else was there to lose? She accepted and felt as her body warmed from the feeling of his hand gripping hers tightly.

Neither said a word as George lead her quietly further away from the Gryffindor Tower. It wasn't until they approached the Astronomy Tower stair case [Y/N] made to speak, but was promptly shushed. 'You'll see' he told her.

The Weasley stopped at the top most stair, watching her as he slowly opened the door leading to the balcony. Eyes never leaving her face, smiling sweetly as he witnessed her expression shift slowly from one of bewilderment to awe.

Laid out in front of them was an abundance of pillows, set upon a thick blanket, surrounded by various sweet platters and floating candles like the ones in the Great Hall only much smaller. [Y/N]s hands sprang to her mouth in shock, she'd never seen such a romantic setting. Staring from the picnic to the stars that shone so brightly over head, with every Galaxy and Constellation clearly visible, she was lost for words. A startled gasp was the only noise to peirce her lips silence.

George watched fondly at the sparkle held within her eyes. Nothing but love in his as he stepped behind her, hands gently resting on her shoulders to move her forward. He nestled into the side of her neck while he walked her slowly so he could whisper in her ear, "I had actually planned on telling you first, tonight, about how I feel. But it seems you've unwilling stolen my chance." "Oh George..."

"I know, it's bloody good right?" He commented cockily. "Come on. Sit."

"So I take it this was the super secret twin business you had to attend to?" She said smiling as he made himself comfortable beside her gazing towards the sky.

"Yep. That and Fred wanted to set off some Dung Bombs in Snapes office. He's down there now." [Y/N] began to laugh and she suddenly captured every ounce of Georges attention. It's in moments like this he found her most beautiful. When she were genuinely happy. "You shouldn't have gone through all this trouble." She spoke earnestly. "You're worth it."

"That's so cheesey."

"You love cheese!"

"I do don't I?"

The two laughed, [Y/N]s head dropping as she did so before George raised her attention back to him with a finger placed delicately under her chin.

"[Y/N], I've liked you for so long now that I-I can't even remember when I realised. I just...did. You mean so much to me that it's scary" he was kneeling before her now. Hands grasping hers, "and I don't want to hear that you're over me because I don't think that I will ever be able to get over you." [Y/N] was staring fixedly into his eyes, heart thundering in her ears. Unable to believe this were happening. "I fall for you a little more everyday. I fall with every smile. Every laugh. Every sleazy innuendo you throw my way. I can't help falling and I just couldnt go another day without knowing if there were even a possibility that you may feel the same way. If you fall for me the same way I do for you. It's why I took that hit today, on the pitch, I was so distracted about tonight that I-"

"You saying that was my fault are you? That you got hurt." [Y/N] was smiling widely, eyes glistening with tears she knew were unlikely to fall but were there nonetheless.

"Ab-so-LUTE-ly it's your fault!" George continued her teasing with a beaming smile that shone nearly as bright as the stars above them.

"I do George. Feel the same. I'm not over you because...because there's just no getting over you."

George let out a relieved and amazed breath. He doubted he'd ever felt happier in his life than in this moment.

Both his hands came to rest either side of her face as he hastily leant his face towards hers before restraining himself. Eyes pouring into hers as hers were staring back. "Can I kiss you?" He whispered.

[Y/N] smiled softly, hands coming to lay gently on his elbows, "yes" she breathed before nodding quickly. A hand shot up behind his neck to bring their faces together, lips meeting for the first time. He pulled her into his lap swinging both arms around her waist as her free hand tugged on his tie.

[Y/N] pulled back to catch her breath while George peppered soft, frantic kisses down her jaw and neck.

"So tell me..." her head fell back in pleasure as she clung to him for support and felt as he hummed against her skin in response, "now that we've established I'm not over you. When can I get under you?" She smirked chuckling slightly. He rolled his head up to meet her gaze, staring unbelievably at her words as a reluctant smile crept across his lips. George groaned at the pun before pushing her down into the pillows, body hovering above hers as she left out a squeal at his action. Laughing in a way only George could ever make her.

"Trust you to cheapen the moment."

[obsessionsposts]

Tw: toxic relationship / emotional manipulation at the end / non-con use of drugs.

In the harsh forests of Siberia, there lays a forlorned man kneeling in the ground ; as he observed his sole friend being eaten by the serrated teeth of the snow.

He didn't know which is worse the icy winds that threatens to graze his skin, or the empty void that keeps on growing gradually to enrapture him in a spectral of sorrow; leaving him without a light and any shred of hope.

Not that it mattered anyways, Vladimir was born alone; lived his life alone and probably will die alone.

When the hamster drowned completely ; the man grumbled and stood up to make away to his estranged family whom visits him scarcely in his shack of solitude.

●◉◎◈◎◉●

" приве́т, брат. как дела? ", a familiar care-free voice echoed through the Siberian larch shack.

" Здравствуйте, младшая сестра.Я в поря́дке", replied Vladimir in a monotone tone.

A few minutes have passed, yet the situation kept on getting awkward between the estranged siblings. Until, Dunya abruptly disturbed the silence with her sugary voice.

" Brother, l may not visit you frequently. However, I fret alot about how negligent you've recently become not only toward us, but also toward yourself. So, I have an idea to remedy your desolation. ," the Belarusian suggeted awaiting the response of the reticent male.

"What that may be ? It won't work. No matter any attempt I've conducted to burn the memory. At best it haunts me, at worst, it depletes me.", came the cynical voice of the large man who is huddled beside the fireplace.

"Please understand that I give you my word that this time you'll- , she was cut off by Vladimir.

"No! You lack understandment. If you did understand me back then, why did abandon me? Now, don't try to manipulate me with your sugar-coated words,dear sister", his voice filled with loathe and disregard toward his traitor of a sister. Not that she was of his own blood, which proves his point people are discrenibly not to be trusted.

At one point, they'll take what they want from you; and then they will abandon you at any chance they get. He wont let it happen to him again. Never again.

As he ignored the wailing of his pathetic sister to stay and consider ; he left his shack and decided to go to the nearest town to meet one of the few people he came to trust. (Y/n).

His beloved snowflake.

His latest hope, that he'll make sure to persevere this time.

It's his turn to be selfish and take his reward for all the years of agony and loneliness.

●◉◎◈◎◉●

A jingle was heard notifying you that a customer came. Only to be pleasantly surprised, that it was the the russian regular customer; Vladimir.

Well,at first he intimidated you; with his structure,lack of expression,and his nihilistic attitude. With time, as you got to know him better he is such a fascinating and kind man despite the rumors spread about him.

The enormous brunette approached you with a stoic expression decorating his visage, however you knew better that he was glum.

"What seems to trouble you,Vlad? You appear to be out of it today, more than the usual?", you asked concerned about him; considering Vlad repress his emotion which isn't a healthy outlet as of you red about.

Another thing, he cherishes about you that your concerns and frets are genuine. Alongside, your intellect that sparked both his mind and heart alike.

" Нет, just stressed. I want to talk to you,if you're not busy.", he huffed as he inserted his large hands inside the pockets of his overcoat.

" No, not all. Considering I am about to close the shop now. I don't mind accompany you. Just give me a momento~ and I'll be ready.", as you left to close the shop; you didn't notice the ghost of a smile contorting through the face of the brunette russian.

●◉◎◈◎◉●

"So, what are up to,Vlady? and care to share why were you upset? I don't want to be pushy, but If you'd like to share then I am all ears", you remarked and poked the towering man inflicting a warm feeling inside his heart. Just like the sun he rarely saw.

Sighing, as he began to retell about what happened a month ago along with recent happenings.

The way, he spoke about his best friend passing hurt your heart- reflecting your true nature as an empath- and the cold anger of his when he spoke about his family.

You wondered what happened to represent such hate. No matter, what matters now is to bring Vladimir spirits up.

"Say, what would you like me to do to bring your hopes up? Anything you'd like!", as you encircled your arms around his waist or in your case below his stomach.

The warmth of your bodice and it softness clashed against his rough and cold ones made him realize, how much of an important factor you represent in his wretched life with his wretched family and wretched luck.

In addition, if anyone did what you did he will forcefully push them aside. But, you! you are his everything as much as he will be your everything soon enough.

Now, the door of opportunities had granted him this chance to enrapture you in his grasp forevermore; thus he will take it with an iron firm hands.

"да,please. Follow me to my lodge,маленький", offering his hands to you.

Grasping his hands, you began to walk aside him to his abode.

●◉◎◈◎◉●

Nothing,but the howling of the wind was heard ; as the both of you strolled toward his domicile. Vladimir reached his pockets to grab the keys and open the inky door.

"Such an interesting and intricate place you got,Vlad. Did you buy it?", stepping inside of the well-decorated abode. Said abode, was built upon black wood, and everything here are made of either wood or rarely metal.

Yet, it captured your interest as you are a fan of vintage architecture such as this.

"Glad you like it. However, I hadn't bought it. If, anything I built from scratch as I have an interest in building structures."

"My, that's amazing!,Vlad. You're such a talented man", you complimented his craftsmanship as you laid your hand at a woman in bridal clothes made from various type of wood.

Meanwhile, as you were immersed in the details of the house ; Vladimir brewed some tea for both him and his wife-to-be.

' It seems that you took my den to your liking. Good, adapt. Because, from on you'll be living here ;you'll become one with me and won't have the chance to leave me.'

" (Y/n)? May you come and chatter with me over a cup of tea?", Vladimir beckoned you as he sat in an umber chair; which is in front of a circular chocolate brown table.

"Sure thing.", trotting toward him with a sparkle of interest residing in your eyes. On the other hand, your guts is telling you otherwise. However, you ignored it. That was the last strike, before your fall down.

" Remember our first meeting? Nostalgic as it may be,but it always have a special place in my dormant heart", the brunette sipped his tea as he awaited your response.

" Indeed, I do !. Infact, I do too cherished and it is very sweet of you to say that. Considering, you're a grumpy bear usually", you remarked playfully,sipped your tea, and watched him glare at you halfheartedly.

" V-vlady, what's happening all of sudden. Why is everything so dizzy?", you spoke as you watch the world around you swirl and black spots began hazing your mind. Before you plummeted to the ground, a large arms had caught you in their arms. It wasn't warm this time,it was deathly cold similar to the embrace of death himself.

The last thing you saw were; Vlad's bloody irises and a cold smile gracing his visage.

●◉◎◈◎◉●

Once you awakened from your stupor, you were met directly with the bloody orbs of the person whom took advantage of you.

" Ah! маленький. You've awaken; its seems the drug didn't last long. No matter, what truly matters is that you're with me now." ,Vladmir crawled closer to you. Thus, you started to take a step from your former friend.

"Why are you doing this Vladimir? Why? after all we've been through; you do this", your eyes began to drip in tears as you screamed at your fr- No! at the strange man that possessed your friend.

"Because, you are the only one who cares authentically about me and isn't afraid of me. You painted my grey world with your light. You're the sunshine that I never had, this why I have to keep you away. So, no one would taint you. Can't you see I am a merely broken man shunned and forsakened by his own family?. Yet, you want to take away my chance of happiness,маленький?", Vladimir remarked bitterly,staring intently through your eyes with desolate engraved in his cold dead eyes.

"Just give into me,love. If you won't I might do something we both will regret."

Finally, in the end he have gotten something good out of this pointless life! and he'll will ensure her safety with him as he'll drown her with the love that he never had.

This is a story of man who lost everything,yet he gained something better than everything; eternal love.

●◉◎◈◎◉●

A/n: Hope you like it. Sorry if it took so long and thank you for requesting!

Translations:

приве́т, брат. как дела? - Hello,brother. How are you?

Здравствуйте, младшая сестра.Я в поря́дке. - Hello, little sister. I'm fine.

да - Yes.

маленький - little one.

[scribbleseas]

The Indignant Pawn, Chapter II: The Woman In Beige

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

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

OVERALL STORY WARNINGS: sexual assault, objectification, death, detailed description of blood/gore, detailed description of murder, lying, impersonation, theft, weapons, detailed panic attacks, symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder.

Author’s Note: If you have any questions or concerns about these warnings, please don’t hesitate to contact me! Otherwise, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

-Dan

⇠ PREVIOUS CHAPTER  | NEXT CHAPTER ⇢

. . .

DECEMBER 17TH, 1891

LONDON, ENGLAND

The outside of the Globe theater was alight with bustling crowds as Oscar Wilde's London premiere of Salome had just concluded for the evening.

You were never partial towards theater. In fact, it made you wonder how a show could captivate such a diverse audience, as you watched formally clothed aristocrats and their servants cringed amongst the middle-class plebeians as they exited the theater through the matching front doors. Little did they know, the real show would take place inside of the closed carriage you waited in, peering through the red blind that covered it. Your thumb ran over the smooth pommel of your dagger. You focused on its smooth entirety as you sat back in the carriage to wait, distracting yourself from the consuming darkness.

Thankfully, Felix Keating, the wealthiest factory owner from Birmingham, valued his privacy. He opted for a carriage that had a single window on the door. This made his carriage an ideal place for you to intervene and elude any potential witnesses, considering the man had little to no time alone. In your case, it was less than optimal, but strategically, it was going to do the trick.

You stared at the wall of the carriage across from you before squeezing your eyes shut. You tried to focus on something concrete- perhaps the weight of your weapon, the tickle that your wool scarf gave your lip as it concealed the bottom half of your face. You inhaled deeply, reaching out for the drape of the window to let a fraction of light, but you froze and for a moment, you were...gone. When you opened your eyes again, you found yourself in the hallway of your home, a lantern burning dimly in your hand as you heard two men talking- one voice familiar, the other strange.

'Lass? I haven't the slightest-'

'Just hand over the money and we won't have to blow no one's brains outta their skulls.'

Gunshots. Blood.

'Has she already been broken in? Lord knows what she was doing here with that old bum.'

'Doesn't matter, she's ours now, isn't that right?'

'Whore?'

Cold.

Piercing pain in your neck reminded you that you were in a carriage with years of difference from that morning. You had a job to do as you heard approaching steps and the posh voice of the factory owner himself. Before sinking to the corner furthest from the door, you took a generous inhale of the drafty air and focused on how it filled your lungs, rather than the poorly timed panic that the darkness insisted on showing you towards. You wiggled your toes in your black boots and wrinkled your nose, which served as tics that you had cautiously picked out years ago to help ground yourself when necessary. You held the dagger in your hand, the blade ready to pierce a sinner's flesh.

"That playwright will bring tears to the steeliest of lads. Quite brilliant. I must write to Wilde," Felix Keating's dulcet voice sounded as his coachman greeted him. "Reckon I could stick my nose into the theater enterprise, Her Majesty is quite interested in renovating these rubbish theaters," Keating mused, his muffled voice growing closer by the step.

"A clever investment, Mr. Keating," the coachman validated as you hugged your legs, making yourself smaller in the corner of the carriage, your head down and hood up. The door opened and you held your breath, as your heart pounded against your ribcage in protest. "May I offer you extra linens for warmth? The wind's just startin' up."

This wasn't the first time you've had to hide in order to carry out an assignment, yet the adrenaline between waiting and pouncing was always riveting.

"Ah, no Horace, I'll be 'right," Keating took his seat, more focusing on lighting his cigar. The scent caused you to tense, reminding you of the conman, someone smoked as if his life depended on it. He was a smart man that would scold you for the way you grew past his death. He'd be disappointed in you, a relentless advocate for diplomacy. Ask questions, shoot later.

"Right. If you change your mind, you gimme a holler," Horace, the coachman, shut the door as Keating settled himself with an exasperated sigh. He pushed the short drapes that were concealing the window, allowing the city lights to illuminate the small quarters and simply watched the street go by as Horace told the horse to "get walkin".

Without wasting another moment, you got to your feet, your dagger precariously reflecting light that shone through the window.

"Who is it? Who's there-" Keating started to shout, immediately sitting to attention as you used the whole of your arm's strength to shove him back against the wall that he was previously reclining against. Your nondominant hand barely fit around the circumference of his clammy neck, but nevertheless you were able to force his head back completely, his torso following in suit. You squeezed firmly, your fingers digging into the warm flesh and you could feel his hurried pulse with ease as you kept your back straight and legs strong. The angle was awkward, seeing as you were bent over in a moving carriage, but your balance was more than you gave it credit for. "Why- please!" he gasped for air, his glasses low on his nose, threatening to fall to the floor. "Stop! I have...money! Take anything you want. H-Horace!"

"Shut up!" Unintentionally, your grip tightened as you shoved his head back into the wall again, causing Keating's extinguished cigar to fall on the cushioned seat next to him. His hands flailed in panic as his chest tensed with effort as he tried to yell out to Horace again. "Maggie Calvert," you snarled as your petticoats moved with your short steps closer. Your nose could have touched his while you held his sightline. You adjusted your hold on the wooden handle of your dagger in your dominant hand before impelling the blade between his fourth and fifth ribs and close to his midline. "This is for her."

His body froze, his mouth agape. You couldn't tell if he recognized the name, but you wanted him to. A greedy businessman of his caliber deserved to think about someone other than himself during his last few moments alive. You pushed your dagger until both quillions were making contact with his white shirt. You have the dagger a small jerk for maximum damage before pulling it out, allowing blood to immediately gush out of his wound. Finally, your heart rate was beginning to slow with the rush of merely completing the task and you let go of his neck, your fingers aching from being tense. Keating was choking as he tried to yell or scream, or perhaps curse you, but the blood that was rushing into his collapsing lung was going to keep him from doing so.

"Maggie Calvert," you repeated solemnly, using Keating's long coat to clean off your dagger and tuck it into your pocket bag, one of the two large pouches that were nestled between your skirts. The body was limp and the strangled hacking had finally come to a stop. After all, the blood had stained your stomacher as it had come up through his mouth during his final moments of struggle. However, the compensation you were about to receive for this task would more than cover it. Unfortunately, it left Horace with more than a mess to clean up. Blood was a stubborn substance.

. . .

DECEMBER 20TH 1891

BIRMINGHAM, ENGLAND

Before you could knock, the door of the brick building flew open, causing you to jump in surprise.

"Miss Y/l/n," Eric Calvert's muddy green eyes were glassy with unshed tears as you pushed the hood of your cloak off of your neck out of respect for the modest home. The housing in Birmingham, an industrial town, was much different than London's. It was more compact, the air was more polluted with factory smoke. The Calverts seemed to be better off than most common families, but that meant nothing in this case. Factory conditions were poor, even after the reform laws from the 1830s. You were blessed to be introduced to more lucrative work upon your arrival- drawing money straight out of pockets with the most genuine man to have strolled down the cemented walkways of the city. "Please, come right in," he gestured with his gloved hand, moving out of your way as he removed his hat and bowed.

"Mr. Calvert," you offered a tight-lipped smile at the bowing man. In the hand that pressed against his chest, Eric pressed his grey hat into it, like a proper gentleman. The gesture had only fed into your discontentment, while Eric seemed no better off. You weren't blind to the pallid shade of his face, the withheld energy in his stance. "You mustn't bow to me," you assert, waiting for the man to right himself as he frowned.

"Oh, please... Mr. Calvert's my father." Eric said with a miffed shake of his head, raking his fingers through his sloppy waves of hair. The two of you walked down the short hall that led into a big foyer. A fireplace was on the far side with several articles of outerwear hanging on the mantle to help warm them from snow, you presume. The scent of the burning wood brings you a foreign nostalgia that ideally, you would've failed to notice. The past deserved to stay where it belonged- in the past. The only hearth you were to be a part of was your own.

"Evelyn, dear! Draw some tea, she's come back!" Eric called his wife, who seemed busy in the kitchen that was located in an attached room. "Hurry!" You presumed that he felt apprehensive about being left alone with you, which was fair.

"Just a minute!" Evelyn called from the attaching room, the door left ajar. You were right to assume that it was a kitchen of some form, seeing as the general layout of this building resembled that of your own home, the fuss of her brown petticoats catching your eye. You wished she'd move with more urgency. You had yet to eat properly, seeing as you were more occupied with moving efficiently over the past day or two. At least the vicinity was warm, allowing you to pull off your thick gloves and tuck them into either pocket bag as Eric led you to a small area near the fireplace. There were two big loveseats across from each other and with a rug in between. The cushions were patched together with random sheets of fabric.

There was a single photograph in a hanging frame over the fireplace's mantle, the glass dirty. It was Eric and Evelyn, jubilant in light, fancy clothing as they cradled their baby girl between them. You understood how the couple found themselves in such desperation to acquaint themselves with someone like you when they had once smiled without any semblance of malignity. She was stolen from them, and it had seemed that the world was prepared to let the men at fault see their own children grow up. You were the one to right that wrong- by driving your knife between the ribs of Felix Keating and watching him choke as blood filled his lungs. His eyes tearing as he begged for mercy when Maggie Calvert, who was no more than nine, died in his workhouse because of his cheaply built machinery. She wasn't given a chance, so who was Keating to think he deserved one?

"She'll be uh...right out," Eric smiled at you again, repeating the words of his wife, those of which you had no problem hearing. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the uncomfortable way he held himself, as opposed to the haughty attitude he sported during your first meeting. He was dubious that a mere lady like yourself (months shy of twenty) could hurt a fly, much less hold a body count to her name. Yet the morning prior, the bustling headlines of The Daily Telegraph reached Birmingham, selling quickly as they covered the murder of Felix Keating, owner of many iron manufacturing factories who narrowly escaped an immense prison sentence for a major accident in his Birmingham factory a week before.

"Oh my, Eric," Evelyn entered the main room, precariously balancing a steaming teapot and a modest spread of small bites on a tarnished, silver tray. "Where have your manners gone?" she tutted, setting it down on the oakwood table before turning her attention to you. Her blonde hair was tied in a disheveled bun, droopy and with tendrils falling out of it like spider legs that swayed as she moved.

"My manners?" Eric began to protest, only to be interrupted by his wife again. You found their dynamic as a couple quite refreshing. After all, you would not have been there, had Evelyn worked to contact you without her husband's knowledge.

"Miss Y/l/n, allow me to take your cloak," Evelyn gestured to the many hooks that were nailed into the fireplace mantle where there were drying articles of clothing hanging, narrowly dodging the short flames.

It was difficult to compel yourself to smile, but the corners of your lips turned upwards anyhow. There was a line where social niceties ended and another where gullible kindness started. This was the latter as they knowingly welcomed you, a murderer into their home because you made an ally out of yourself. "Don't trouble yourself any more than you have, Mrs. Calvert. My time here is brief," you found satisfaction when she shook her head and began to pour you a cup of the steaming tea, despite your words. Thankfully, she made no attempt to sit with you.

"Brief?" Evelyn repeated, gently passing the delicate teacup to you. The warmth spread over your palms on contact as you brought the rim to your lips. Your hold was improper, though necessary, seeing as the finest details are what make the best disguises. Only the wealthy held their teacups with so much consideration. Besides, the warmth was much more satisfying when it went beyond the tips of your fingers. "I reckon a woman such as yourself is a tad busy," she concurred, causing you to tense in surprise. You were rarely referred to as a woman.

"Quite," you mused after her, taking a contemplative sip of your tea. "I ought to be at the station in less than an hour," you lied, gently tapping the tips of your short nails on the warm cup. All that was necessary was payment and crucial parting words. The assorted bites on the tray were beginning to seem unappealing, the longer you stood there. "But we must discuss a few things-" you start, only to be interrupted by Evelyn, which was common.

"Your fee. We have the first installment," she gestured to Eric with her chin, her smile long gone as he offered a small pouch made of different, threadbare, fabrics. While you had already discounted your normal charge for the couple's situation, they could hardly afford a fraction of the sum.

"We've tried to save as much as possible. Take it. It's the least we can do at the time," Eric spoke, linking his arm with his wife's. Reluctantly, you hold your cup in one hand and deftly slide the pouch into the pocket bag between your petticoats. They would have felt worse if you refused to take their money. After all, you avenged the silenced death of their girl.

"It's plenty, thank you," after finishing the rest of your tea, you proceed with your original thought before they could try to pass their relief for protest. You had to recite the practiced discourse that you gave to every one of your patrons before making your leave. "Now, the two of you will be suspects to the Yard, be cautious," you put emphasis on your words by meeting each of their gazes. "You must avoid London and keep your heads down. Do you understand?"

"And... what happens to you?" Eric asked, sipping out of his own teacup. His shoulders were still unnaturally squared and attentive as he actively avoided your sightline. "Where are you off to?" his focus quickly turned to Evelyn, who was untangling her arm from his and bringing the tray back into the kitchen.

"The distance from Birmingham to London is great, she'll starve before she returns!" Evelyn stopped to yell from over her shoulder before leaving the door open behind her. In the kitchen, she promptly began to wrap the biscuits in napkins.

"Nevermind me," you coaxed Eric back to the conversation by answering his question. You smiled once again as you put your cup on the table and begin to put your gloves back on their respective hands. "You need to make certain that you both have an alibi for the night of December 17th, I cannot stress this enough, Mr. Calvert," you looked up from your gloves, pulling them so they covered your forearms again.

"I assure you, Miss Y/l/n. We were both working in that refinery- until dawn," you had no doubt about the truth to that statement, though any Peeler would press further. That part was to the Calverts to handle, seeing as you had played out your role. Pursing your lips, you took a generous inhale to soothe the ominous pit of anxiety that had settled in your stomach.

"Sure," you pulled your hood back over your head as Evelyn returned with a minute basket. It was covered and you wished you still had your appetite from when you had entered their home.

"Here you are," Evelyn allowed you to take the handle in your non-dominant hand. In a city, it was always smartest to have your dominant hand free, which was yet another insignificant habit that you had inherited from the old conman. What was the date? December 20th, which meant there were still a few weeks before it was the anniversary of his death. Otherwise, the most difficult twenty-four hours to bear out of a calendar year.

Evelyn was smiling, but it didn't reach her eyes. After all, for most women, motherhood was a privilege and it had been torn away from her. She was attempting to care for you as she would have for Maggie...had she lived to nineteen. Tears were welling in her eyes as she watched your hand extend to briefly touch her shoulder. "Take care," you said, finally meeting Eric's green hues that were tearing up as well. "I can show myself out," you shook your head dismissively when he moved to go to the front door with you. Evelyn needed to be coddled more than you did.

. . .

JANUARY 5TH, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

Evenings at home always unsettled you, being the start of an all-too boring night, which made you feel restless- itchy for action. Rather, your quiet home always put you on the height of your guard, even as you were sitting behind the short shed, submerging your assorted gowns and petticoats into the warm, soapy water that bubbled in your wooden tub. It was a tedious, once a week process that perhaps irked you more than cooking. With a huff, you directed your stress into the iron grip that you kept your washboard upright with, rubbing fabric over its ridges.

The water made your fingers prune and the stool under you caused your bottom to grow sore, the longer you had to sit there, toiling away until each article was hanging on your makeshift clothesline- fastened with pins. When you were a girl, you had about twice the amount to wash and yet, you enjoyed the task because there were two more hands to make light, fun work of it. The conman liked to sing to pass the time- the lyrics had taken you ages to comprehend, seeing as your English had challenged for years. He was anything but a schoolteacher.

You cringed as your hand slid down the washboard too quickly, causing the hot water to splash back up at your face. The weather was foul, the winter in London was always tempestuous and the warm water on your face had only reminded you of how little warmth your wool scarf provided. It was wrought with holes by now, but you couldn't bring yourself to give it away, you've had it from the day you arrived...nine years ago. Dismissing the thought, you allowed the cooling water to run down your forehead, passing the slope of your nose, until it finally fell and assimilated with the top of your stomacher.

You squeezed the wet petticoat, turning it in order to ring the water out. Although you could have been more thorough, the boredom that came with domestic chores was causing you to rush and find something more occupying to start. The tranquility of the night was eerie, an uneasy contrast to the violent life you led.

The sound of approaching voices caused you to pause, your hands pulling the washboard out of the water to hold, ready to swing. The petticoat that you had been wringing out fell back into the wooden tub with a quiet splash. The soap suds ran down your forearms, dampening the brown sleeves of your gown.

"No entiendo por qué la señora quiere una chica. Podríamos bombardear el sitio de Phantomhive más rápido que esta pérdida de tiempo," the voice of a woman spoke quickly, in a language that you couldn't identify. A denomination of Latin? Knitting your eyebrows, you conceded, deciding to focus on what you could understand. Bombard, Phantomhive. Bomb?

Vaguely, you recognized the name 'Phantomhive' from the newspaper. The Earl Phantomhive ran the Funtom Company, children's' toys and confectionery.

"Quiere su nombre lo más lejos posible de esto. La chica es una asesina exitosa, así que sería más discreta que los explosivos," a masculine voice responded, a stiff twig cracking beneath one of their shoes. You scowled as you shifted your weight from your left side to your right. The washboard was a viable weapon, but it was simply a matter of timing. Their silhouettes were getting closer, each short and clad in neutral earth tones.

"A menos que te interese en enredarte con ese mocoso," the man chuckled. He wasn't secretive or trying to be discreet. By the way he trudged, he was probably leaving deep tracks in the slushy excuse for snow.

"No tengo un deseo de muerte, a diferencia de ti. Callado!!" The woman said, her voice suddenly at a harsh whisper.

"Ah. There," the man spoke in English, finally a language that you could comprehend. "Y/n Y/l/n?" He asked, pulling down his scarf to expose the rest of his face. In comparison to yours, his accent was much thicker. Your grip on the washboard didn't waver.

"Who are you?" You demanded, stepping forward to stand your ground as they approached you. The pair wasn't visibly armed, their figures weren't particularly threatening to you. The man merely smiled at you while the woman to his side scowled.

"Diego- and uh, Carmen. Peace! We come in...uh, peace," Diego stammered, stopping at a respectful distance from you while showing you his empty hands as they beckoned with his rapid words. He seemed amused with your choice in weapon and assertive stance. "Carmen," he elbowed the sour-faced woman, causing her to grunt and hold her gloved hands up as he was.

"What brings you here?" They must have knocked at your door and came around when there was no response and a dim light behind the shack. Their winter gear suggested that they had some tier of wealth or deft hands in thievery. If it was business, this wouldn't be the first time you were asked to aid in stealing. However, as tempting as the offers were, you turned each one down. 

"Business." Carmen answered this time, her hand slowly reaching into her jacket pocket. "No fret. Is just a letter," her English was just as mediocre as yours had been, years ago. Your eyes followed her hand as she pulled out an envelope with a dark red seal. "Business for our...líder?" She explained and looked at the man, leaving a long pause before her last word. It was essentially 'leader', but the stress was on an 'i' sound instead.

"Yes. Leader," Diego cleared his throat in a weak attempt to mask a laugh as you dropped your washboard back into the washbasin with a short splash. You ignored him as you took the letter from the woman, your wet hand causing the ink on the front to smear. It read your name, Y/n Y/l/n, in a pompous script, the illegible type that royalty and aristocrats penned. "All you needa know is there."

The Undertaker was supposed to be the partition between yourself and clients. Who did he think he was to give these servants your address? You'd have to give him a stern reminder for the next time you cross paths. With a frown, you pushed the envelope into your pocket bag, allowing it to jut out due to its dimensions.

"Is this all?" You asked as you waited for them to either leave or proceed with more broken commentary. Your lips were pressed together in a tight purse, a fresh lump of apprehension growing in your stomach. However, you couldn't let it show as the man sheepishly removed his hat with a shallow bow. It was more unctuous than anything as it only caused your scowl to deepen.

"Yes, Miss. We can... be going now," Diego righted himself and put his hat back over his dark curly hair. You didn't offer either of than a proper dismissal for the favor of going back to your washing and ruminating over the letter. It merely had a location, date, and time with no further information. No explanation of identification. You could appreciate the impudent nature of it, as this 'leader' assumed you had no plans for January 10th or presumed that you would handle any conflicts yourself when they were approaching you for your services. It was crude of them to assume that you still took orders.

. . .

JANUARY 10TH, 1892

READING, ENGLAND

Perhaps it was curiosity or a lapse of judgment that led you to board a train and throw caution to the wind. Whatever it was, your default prudence seemed to abandon you at each instance you dared open the letter that you were given- if you could call it that. The paper inside merely had your name, a distinct address, time, and date all in a presumptuous formality that made you want to tear it to shreds. But you refrained and instead, rolled your shoulders back and down as you knocked on the painted door of the lofty residential home that coincided with the address in the letter. The walls were constructed with sturdy brick and there was smoke wafting out of the chimney. As you predicted, the entirety of the property before you suggested wealth, just as the note and the delivery had.

You knocked on the door, the letter in your hand as you waited several long, cold moments before a woman greeted you. Most of her features matched Carmen's, deep olive skin and brown hair that was tied back. "You are late," she spoke, disdain clear in her voice as she ushered you through the open door and into a foyer. You were only late by a few minutes, according to the clock on a passing wall. "My mistress is impatient," the woman added as an afterthought as if that fact was supposed to faze you into an apology. Her accent was quite notable, pronounced, and sharp like the other servants.

As she led you to a winding staircase as your gaze trained on each room that you passed. They were each decorated in a modest fashion and the colors were left to a simple tan palette. It was more simple than you would have expected from the manor's proud exterior. The woman cleared her throat, "Doña, she has arrived," she knocked twice on the closed door before opening it, revealing another woman. She stood behind a mahogany desk, watching you with relaxed shoulders. The bay window behind her illuminated the silk of her beige dress, contrasting her tan skin as it hugged her slender figure. Beige was uncommon at the time, given the dullness of it, although this woman wore it like a badge, using the simple color to allow other parts of her appearance to stand out.

"Leave us, Andrea," the woman's gaze had yet to leave yours, causing you to look away in mild discomfort. Once the door was closed again, she extended her hand to you, speaking again as you cautiously shook it. Her grip was confident and warm against your bare palm. "It is my pleasure, Princess Helena. I feared you would disregard dear Carmen and Diego." You retracted your hand, the name causing you to meet her eyes again.

"Y/n," You corrected, your mouth running dry as you calculated each of your words, down to the syllable. This foreign woman was able to unravel each of your lies within the latest nine years and frankly, it took every bit of your skill to remain composed. The conman would assess the person standing in front of him and decide if they were entitled to the truth that they were trying to extract. He would run through each advantage and disadvantage and return to the same conclusion- murder was always an option. After all, it was the only sure way of containing sensitive information. "Y/n Y/l/n," you repeated, causing the woman to laugh, her rounded cheeks eclipsing her eyes.

"We may both employ our pseudonyms, then. Address me as Doña," she sat in the red, cushioned chair behind her. Doña raised her eyebrows at you expectantly as she motioned towards the decidedly less opulent wooden chair across from her. You complied, frowning at her as she leaned towards you. Her smile only seemed to expand. "I have a task for you, Y/n. Only you can complete it for me."

"I know there are other services in London you might have requested," you contradicted, sitting back in the uncomfortable chair as you showed no qualms in testing her.

"No," Doña said with a simple shrug of her slender shoulders, "I need you to eliminate the Earl Phantomhive- the Queen's Guard Dog who puts an end to anyone she names. The graveyard to his name exceeds even yours. Although... it seems to be watered with the blood of the innocent, instead," her smile finally melted, causing her red lips to lay in a natural frown. In the streets of London, her lip color was enough to impose any of the filthiest assumptions about her.

"How does this concern me, specifically?" You asked. As your interest piqued, your eyebrows furrowed and you found yourself leaning towards the edge of the desk, rather than sitting slack against the wooden chair. The notion of the proprietor of a children's company having blood on his noble hands was more endearing than anything, especially to someone such as yourself, living substantial evidence that no one was who they appeared to be.

Your eyes followed Doña's hand as she opened a drawer in the desk, pulling out a pristine, folded newspaper. The masthead read 'DIE SUEDLlCHE POST' (THE SOUTHERN POST), a German newspaper with the headline of 'PRINZESSIN MARIE-LOUISE GIBT IHRE VERLOBUNG MIT PRINZ ARIBERT VON ANHALT BEKANNT' (PRINCESS MARIE-LOUISE ANNOUNCES ENGAGEMENT TO PRINCE ARIBERT OF ANHALT). There was a picture within the columns of words of your twin sister as she sported a gaudy dress and faux-smile as she beckoned the public into her personal life. Seeing Marie's matured face resemble yours so flawlessly was disarming and you only remembered to release a breath you had been holding when Doña spoke again. "The Queen trusts the Earl implicitly- enough to put the safety of her granddaughter in his...capable hands. At any mere threat, the Princess will come overseas to stay under his protection," she paused, smiling again as she unfurled the groundwork of a meticulous plan. "The monarchy is quite predictable, no?"

You had to give her credit for her unwavering confidence. The idea that she implied was beyond mad and yet, she sold it well. "We intercept her transportation before she reaches the port," Doña raised her chin as she explained, her expression smug to challenge you. Someone had trained her to manipulate others, just as the conman had done for you. She was reflecting your body language, while keeping her own polished mannerisms as a subtle attempt to establish trust, but express her own certitude.

"And you intend for me to take her place," you finished mapping out her plan for her, almost speaking in disbelief. Reclaiming your past? Your sister represented the whole of what you had resented in Germany; the wealth, the social faux pas, down to each ruffle of every gown. "Kill the Earl within his own estate," you bit the inside of your bottom lip, keeping yourself in the present.

The door opened behind you, the startling sound of a crying baby caused you to jump and turn your head to the source. A frazzled Andrea, the servant who greeted you, held a crying infant in her arms as it squirmed. "Doña, su hija te necesita ahora," she said, offending you as again as the two individuals conversed in a foreign tongue, ignoring your confusion.

At the sight of the distressed child, Doña's expression curled such as milk did. Her nose wrinkled, her eyes staring at it in disdain. Her glowered response came quickly as she gestured with her hands, "debes llevártela. Andrea, deberías saber mejor que interponerme cuando estoy ocupado con los negocios."

Immediately, and to your relief, Andrea left the office with a mumbled curse that you couldn't decipher. The baby was still crying. "You never learned Spanish?" Doña mused, her hands slowly returning to the wooden surface that separated herself and you. At least you had been correct in assuming it was from a Latin dialect. "That was my daughter," she explained with a careless shrug, causing you to frown. Your mother always spoke of you with the same amount of indifference, if not more than what this woman expressed, calling her daughter a 'that'. Bearing witness to that treatment left you vulnerable to frustration, an emotion that distracted you from the clear thinking you were trained to maintain.

"Earl Phantomhive," you said, bringing her back on topic before she could fiddle with your strained heartstrings any more. "It's a personal vendetta, is it not?"

"Ah. Correct," her face grew serious again as she brought her heavy stare back to yours. For a moment, you looked down at the newspaper- at your beaming sister and her Prince. "The Earl killed my husband after my whole family," Doña said as she shifted in her seat. Her eyes pried into your soul as if she was weighing each of your sins and virtue against each other in that moment. "I cannot rest until he feels the same anguish. What do you say?" She asked, raising her thin eyebrows, leaning forward in her seat.

For the first time that afternoon, you understood the woman sitting before you. You understood the lingering pain behind every smile, the loneliness behind her confident handshake. For that, you didn't need her to prove that the Earl was deserving of just intervention when normally, you required a means that ensured you that you weren't being sent to murder an innocent. The Calverts allowed you to read the court records of Keating's failed prosecution. But in this case, you recognized the raw emotion in her face. You saw it weekly in your employers and it used to stare back at you in the mirror...before you grew.

"Fine," your shoulders relaxed as you shifted in on the wooden chair, tempted to retreat, the more she invaded your space.

"We will begin our preparations immediately, then. We may discuss the finer details over tea."

. . .

JANUARY 17TH, 1892

READING, ENGLAND

"Diego and Carmen have returned," Doña entered your room without the formality of knocking, even though Andrea was in the middle of preparing you for your arrival to the Phantomhive Manor while you were attempting to keep yourself present. You gave your toes a discrete wiggle while they were crushed in tall heels. At least the slight pain was grounding. "Your personal effects will be included with ours," she added as a suggestion for you to respond. Over the week you had spent in her presence, you learned that talking to her was an exhaustive endeavor when most of the time, all you needed to do was listen. Meanwhile, Andrea was finishing your complicated hairstyle behind you. She tied strands of your hair into braids that led into a single low ponytail behind your head. Frankly, the steps she took had you standing there for ages, but you didn't protest, as opposed to the riot you always threw in Germany.

"At last," you stared at your reflection in the mirror before you, willfully ignoring the addition of her behind you. It was almost difficult to recognize yourself, considering you were staring at the visage of your sister, Marie as you dawned a sky blue gown that was embroidered with white designs around the bodice and top petticoat. The neckline had simple ruffles that covered the top of your stomacher, alternating with lace. Your skin was smooth to touch, almost delicate with the amount of cold cream that Andrea had insisted on smothering over every inch of you each morning and night. Even the apples of your cheeks were lightened with a gentle hand of pink rouge. "Putting that off to the last day was careless."

"At least our princess needs not to remember her privilege," Doña smarted, her red lips pursing in a sardonic grin. "Only her grace."

"And what of the princess?" You asked, turning away from yourself to give the packed trunks in your room a quick once over. They were each packed with fine clothing and luxury products that Doña had procured over the week, whilst important belongings of your own had just arrived, according to the woman herself. The conman's watch stayed with you for each task, whether you wore it, forced it into your pocket bag, or wrapped around a garter.

"Her steamship was supposed to dock about an hour ago. It should be in the process of sinking in the North Sea." The words had no effect on you, other than perhaps, relief. While Marie was your sister, you grew up in her looming shadow, her constant jibes, and haughty smiles. Her death secured your role in perhaps, one of the most complicated schemes you have ever dared take part in and did well to rid the world of another self-absorbed leech. Doña's hand gave your shoulder a patronizing pat as she smiled, "peace, Y/n. Your face is too young for frown lines. Remember, princesses haven't a care."

"You would know?" you asked, pressing your lips together and gathering your breath in a shallow inhale. The statement affected you more than it should have, but you blamed the superior tone that Doña attempted to pull over you. Although there were many years separating the two of you, it gave her no right to treat you as a child. You believed that Evelyn Calvert said it best- you were a woman, a lady that deserved every brutal sentiment that the world had to offer. "I believe the monarchy in Spain ended years ago."

"Someone did their reading."

"Enough," you glared, "I believe it would be best to allow Andrea to finish here. Before I stain this gown with your-" Andrea gave your hair a slight tug to tighten the hold before she gave you a quick once over. She seemed proud of her work- turning a runaway back into a princess. Quickly she patted a bit of power over the exposed junction between your neck and shoulders, adding some to your throat. Rather than making you appear paler, it was mostly translucent and served as a more natural aromatic while hiding blemishes. Andrea then left and quickly returned with a white coat that ran down to your mid-thigh. Deftly, she buttoned down the middle of it, closing both sides with little effort, seeing as it was made to be snug over all of your tight layers.

"-No, I believe that is quite enough, Y/n. Don't forget- we are allies, love." Doña reminded you with a smile. "In fact, I retrieved something else of yours to prove it," her hand disappeared into the deliberate fold of her pocket bag, revealing a small box. It was a black velvet that was soft in your hand. "Go on, she prompted, nodding at the box with her chin, "open." Slowly, you opened the box as it revealed a breathtaking emerald ring. The band's soft rose gold shone in the sunlight that came through the windows as small diamonds lined its circumference and outlined the expensive gem itself.

It couldn't be-

Your breath hitched as you took the ring out, putting the box on the vanity to your side as you looked at the interior of the band, your eyes wide as the engraving read 'Prinzessin Helena Victoria, 5/3' (Princess). It was your family ring, the exact one that you had given to a young boy because he was too poor to buy himself a proper jacket. All he wanted were a few coins for you to buy his newspaper, but you had no currency at the time. Instead, you gave him the ring and changed his life, rather than allowing the damned thing to burden you any more than it already had.

"That ring has seen...nearly all of Europe before returning to you," Doña said as she watched you slide the ring back over your satin glove. It fit your ring finger perfectly. Marie was made a completely identical ring, emerald, rose gold, and diamonds. You shared the same birthdate with her, being twins. "It would have been wiser to procure hers, but we must make do. You may never take it off." She was right. Though the ring was in fact, a smart decision to make your appearance more legitimate, the engraving could just as easily be the end of you.

"I understand." You confirmed, with a generous inhale. You felt your chest expand against the confining corset you wore.

"Andrea, ¿está lista ahora?" (Andrea, is she ready now?) Doña asked the servant, who was cradling her daughter, a chubby infant in her skinny arms, seeing as she finished tending to you. Andrea was not given enough credit, seeing as she took care of you, the baby, and everyone else within the household. She seemed to be around the age of Doña herself, perhaps younger, though missing a ring on her own finger. You owed her more respect than Doña, seeing as she took the time to teach you bits of conversational Spanish. Sitting in that house for a week while most individuals spoke in their native tongue was frustrating to you, and she cared enough to alleviate some of that pressure.

"Yes. You all should be going. Marie would have been near to our destination." Andrea said, before leaving your room to presumably, get Diego and Carmen to load the carriage with the aforementioned trunks. She left you and Doña alone, in temporary silence.

"Diego and Carmen are escorting you," she spoke, ushering you to leave the room behind her and start to the carriage that waited in front of the brick manor. "They are dock workers to you since the Queen called for finesse; minimum security." Marie's steamship was private- it made sense that she'd only have a few individuals as personnel. Although, they were likely dead at the bottom of the sea with the intended princess. "I will be in contact," her eyes, once again, stared into you, but you refused to falter. At a time like this, it was important to appear confident, even when there was residual panic racing through you.

"I won't be long," you replied, quite sardonically. The Earl Phantomhive was just a boy, about two years younger than you. He had a butler and four servants and an opulent estate that gave you plenty of opportunities, space, and minimal witnesses. You have surmised much harder conditions in the past, considering you've posed as a maid and drowned a woman in her own bathtub since she kidnapped and sold little girls to the highest bidder. That case had reached a particular soft spot within you, although it made you sensitive to the scent of rose water.

For a moment, you were back in that bathroom. The steam of the heated water hit your face in droplets as the curvaceous woman thrashed, her knees peeking out of the water, kicking. She was screaming, but it was garbled by the water as she choked on it. You had to use both of your soapy hands to press her forehead against the porcelain tub and apply moderate pressure around her trachea before she went limp...

"I'm sure," Doña rolled her eyes as she opened the carriage door for you. Diego and Carmen came out the front door with the small trunks in their arms. Carmen's tan features were still warped in her perpetual scowl, but Diego beamed at you, his eyelashes fluttering. You squeezed your eyes closed before opening them again, repeating the process multiple times while wrinkling your nose. It was, naturally, still cold and unlike the staff, you were only given a coat and gloves to stay warm. How Doña stood her ground without sleeves in this weather was lost to you.

"Andrea, fixed you up real good, Your Highness," Diego said, leaving Carmen to finish packing the carriage as he approached you. He bowed at his waist, over-exaggerating the movement. You had come to the conclusion that he was an excitable puppy dog, personified in a man. It was hard to imagine a man like that had the nerve to use the handgun in his holster. You frowned, the sight of firearms never failing to unsettle you, despite your line of work.

Trap the gun.

You urged yourself to focus on the people in front of you and the task that was rapidly coming into fruition. "You ought to ask her for a hand," you shrugged dismissively, the jab subtle as you shrugged and showed yourself through the carriage door. You sat down on the cushioned seat, closing the door and staring out the window of the carriage. Though you could have afforded a simple goodbye to the staff, your growing demand to be alone was overwhelming. Even the carriage, though it was white and an unassuming beige upholstery lined the seats, you had to force yourself to stay present.

Felix Keating.

"Y/n, we're pulling out now!" Carmen's grumpy voice announced as she knocked twice on the closed door to get your attention. She and Diego were to be driving the carriage- as Doña said, they were acting as port attendants to substitute Marie's dead servants. Your fingers wrapped around the pommel of your dagger, giving it a long squeeze.

"Fine!" You responded, watching the street from your window as it slowly passed by, paired with the trotting hooves of the horse that dragged you to your possible demise.

. . .

JANUARY 17TH, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

The Phantomhive manor was on the outskirts of London, shielded within the countryside by a thin forest line. As it rolled into your sightline through the small window of the carriage, you shamelessly allowed yourself to gape at the sheer size of it- the height of the walls, the militant stone masonry, and expansive stone garden that surrounded the cobblestone path. The cobblestone caused the carriage to bump clumsily and you could hear the sound of the packed trunks shifting around, even though they sat in the front with Carmen and Diego. To you, having so much space for one person was simply a waste- you made do in a shoebox that was going to be comparable to a linen closet on this property.

There was no describing the intimidating grace of the noble manor that stood proudly before you- although it was the furthest from your first complicated infiltration and as much as you tried to repress it, grew up in a castle. However, even Glücksburg was feeble in comparison to the fortress that your carriage slowed to a stop in front of. Diego wasted no time in opening the door, allowing more of the afternoon light in. You shuddered as the cold, once again, attacked your face and outer extremities, despite the petticoats that Andrea had precariously piled under your gown.

"We have made it, Your Highness," the joke was obvious in Diego's face, the apples of his cheeks too perky with his enthusiastic smile. He needed some of Carmen's restraint while the latter required at least a semblance of his warmth.

Your Highness. The form address was foreign to you. It was nothing but a burden that weighed just as much as the genuine metal around your ring finger and the tight corset that restricted your torso. But this was your role- at least for the next week or so. Your smile was small enough to not seem horribly forced, though anything but enthused. Restraint was something Governess Lydia always stressed, making it one of the single things she had in common with the conman, who never let you forget about the strength of words. This task required you to heed lessons from the both of them, which was unfortunate, considering the conman represented the best two years of your life, while Governess Lydia was the embodiment of your poisonous girlhood.

"Your prudence is more than appreciated," you accepted his hand as he helped you down the two, rather short stairs of the carriage. This was it- now you were Princess Marie of Schleswig-Holstein. Her identity belonged to you- rather than a withering corpse in the sea- however Doña had managed to get her there. For your own sake, you found it easier not to ask. You didn't need the blood of your sister on your conscience while you embodied her likeliness. Or at least...what you could recall from your spoiled bias and hourly etiquette classes in the castle. "Thank you, Diego," you let go of his hand once you stood on your own feet. You didn't need to look at him to know that he was shaking his head, discouraged that you were being kind to him simply because you had to. Prior to the carriage ride, you'd told him to see Andrea and give her a chance to improve his scraggly appearance.

"Of course," he responded with a hasty bow. Diego shut the door with a slam, clumsier than he needed to be. You pretended that all of your doubts were conveniently left sitting on a cushioned seat- as dispensable as a glove. Confidence in your own vast skill sets was going to get you through this and the blade of your dagger between the Earl's ribs. "To the door, Your Highness. You'll catch cold." Diego led you to the door, leaving Carmen to unload your baggage. The door opened immediately after he knocked, revealing a simpering man.

"Wir heißen sie herzlich willkommen, Eure Hoheit. Ich hoffe, dass Ihre reise bis zu diesem punkt angenehm war.," (Our deepest welcome, Your Highness. I do hope your journey was pleasant to this point,) he spoke, his German succinct as if he was a native speaker himself. Following his practiced welcome, he bowed, the silver accessory that was pinned on his lapel moved as he did. A gloved hand pressed politely over his heart as he righted himself at your nod. In this case, you would have preferred him to speak to you in English, seeing as the whole of the experience was already quite out of body for you. "Bitte, treten sie ein." (Please, come in).

You complied, reluctantly crossing the tall threshold. Diego was behind you and silent as you took a moment to look over the barren foyer around you. "Sie haben ein schönes anwesen. Danke, dass sie mein Refugium beherbergen - Ihre Majestät kann mehr als exzessiv sein," (You keep a lovely manor. Thank you for housing my retreat- Her Majesty can be more than excessive,) you replied, noting the butler's endearing features. His face was pale as if the moon decided to bless him with natural illumination and in contrast, his hair fell in black tresses that framed his face. His smile was too perky for his darker disposition.

"Es ist unser privileg, mit ihrer sicherheit betraut zu werden." (It is our privilege to be entrusted with your safety.) The unctuous pleasantries were in excess. A little went a long way, especially for you, who tended to be brief towards every accessory- every pawn. As a girl, that efficiency labeled you as ill-mannered, as Lydia, the uptight Governess, cautioned you.

"Gibt es einen namen für sie?" (Is there a name to call you by?) It was more appropriate for his master- the rudely absent Earl, to introduce him properly, but you were growing weary of having no name to associate with the man. You tilted your head, thinly smiling at the butler who immediately stood to attention to respond. He had more effortless poise than you did, but at its essence, it couldn't be hard. Between your intense life in the monarchy was nearly a decade of living amongst the middle class and working for anyone with the fortune to pay you.

He bowed again, the palm of his right hand returning to his heart. "Natürlich. Mein Name ist Sebastian, mein meister-" (Of course. My name is Sebastian, my master-) he was interrupted by the door opening again, proceeding with three individuals and Carmen entering the foyer, bringing the trunks that were in the carriage. There were only six boxes, but the shorter boy out of the group was holding three heavy boxes instead of one.

"Sebastian! Where should we be putting these?" A woman asked rather loudly, as opposed to the smooth dulcet of Sebastian's German. Her voice had a clear, animated quirk of an English accent and it took you a moment to return your brain to the language, seeing as focusing on one at a time rather than two at once was simpler. Then you entered her sightline, causing her to shriek in surprise as she gasped. "Princess Marie- Your Highness!" she dropped the box, sinking into a clumsy excuse for a curtsy. At your side, you could hear Diego attempting to stifle his laughter. As for yourself, you weren't one for sudden noises and had to feign understanding. By the end of the day, your cheeks were going to ache from constantly having to smile.

"Your Highness, these are the other servants of the house," Sebastian finally spoke in English as he gestured with an arm to the two men and the woman. As the three other servants put the trunks down. The woman's face was red under her disproportionate glasses as she looked from the older man to the younger one at her sides, searching for validation for her abrupt enthusiasm. "Our gardener, Finnian-"

"-Finny!" He interrupted with a bright smile, before meeting Sebastian's eyes and shrinking. Finny cleared his throat, his gloved hand rubbing under the hat that covered the nape of his neck. "Please, um...call me Finny, Your Highness." In front of him were the three trunks that he had been carrying- stacked vertically. One alone was heavy for even yourself, but he seemed unaffected.

"Right...Mey-Rin, the maid," Sebastian continued. Mey-Rin's face was still red as she looked at Sebastian and then you, uncomfortable with the attention of the room on her. "Our cook, Baldroy."

Baldory seemed to be the most composed of the three. Notably, there were strands of grey in his blond hair as he regarded you with an easy simper, his shoulders relaxed. "Good to meet ya," he said with a simple nod of his head. His voice reminded you of the conman's- perpetually at ease.

"And ...Tanaka- the executive director of the Funtom Company," Sebastian said, guiding your attention to a small man that watched you from behind Baldroy's legs. He wore a monocle and seemed to hold a cup of tea as he bowed. The executive director of the Funtom Company was a frail man?

"Oh but, that's how he is- he rarely goes into his full size," Finny chimed in, once again, cutting himself off at Sebastian's pointed gaze. He only gave you more questions than he had answered. How was such a large estate taken care of by such a small cast of individuals?

"Might I ask about the Earl himself?" You didn't feel the need to properly introduce Carmen and Diego, seeing as they were only supposed to be distant dockworkers to you. Marie wouldn't have thought twice about them, seeing as she was her own sun, moon, and savior. Instead, she would be miffed that a mere Earl had the self-importance to show tardiness in meeting her.

"Our master should be with us in a moment. Please allow me to show you to his study," Sebastian said, easily making a transition from the exhaustive introductions to sitting in. "In the meantime; you three, take Her Highness's belongings to her quarters." This time, Baldroy picked up Carmen's neglected box as she stood at Diego's side. The three of them responded enthusiastically as if they were excited to be given a laborious task from their superior.

"Sure," you agreed, more than aware that this was going to be a temporary goodbye to Diego and Carmen, the final allies you'd speak to before heading into a minefield of social complexity, corsets, and lies. You turned to Diego, almost unsure of how to let him depart. It was almost pathetic of you, growing tongue-tied from a simple goodbye. The duo had no semblance of sentimental value to you. All you had was yourself, a dagger, and a large sum of money waiting for you.

"We leave you in capable hands, Your Highness," Diego smiled as he bowed, before quickly winking at you.

"Farewell," Carmen added, her expression illegible as she too, bowed and left with her counterpart.

"Right then," Sebastian led you up the massive staircase. Each step was narrow and troublesome but you attempted to tread smoothly. "Would you care for tea? You toiled through quite a long trip..."

. . .

Tags:

[lie---ability]

for too many times in my life had i been wrong about people. so much that anyone who tries to have anything with me makes me anxious. i even get anxious about my upcoming job at Virus & Partners because new people = chances of any of them hurting me. i have been wrong about people so much that i think it's because i idealize them so much. i mean an example could be us hanging out everyday, do a lot of things together, stay out late together, ditch others for each other, chat each other right after being together the entire day, say i love you and get home safe — and i'd think we're best friends!!! only for her to say we never were. and that she never wanted to be close with someone like me. so it must be me, right? maybe i just fell in love with the thought that she's a great best friend. at the same time i think, no. she was a best friend, she did exist. that version of her existed. or at least did when it was convenient or beneficial to her, but when the time came where it wasn't, she threw me under the bus, become totally different from who i loved. who i proudly said was my best friend. all those months that built up my comfort, trust, attachment — ended up being told as a lie. and if it came from the person herself that they were lies, who am i to say she's just saying that for whatever reason? she said it herself. we weren't best friends even if she said it before. so what was the truth? was i just really stupid and idealistic? or are people just so awful now? it's like i'm this fish in a pond who's so easy to catch with just the right amount of treat. like i'd swim away when you approach but try a bit more and i'd fall for it. attachment issues suck, more so my abandonment issues.

but this post isn't about jodie. this is about my first boyfriend, rikko.

first because rj doesn't count, the fuck? that shit was a joke lol i just got a dose of reality at an early age. no love there at all. who even falls in love at 13? that shit illegal. so yes, rikko is my first boyfriend ♥️ and even though i've dated guys before, he's the only one i ever loved so far. i love him so much. in fact, before i was already starting to think that maybe i'm not capable of love? i mean, i'm aware i'm a mean person. but i didn't think of myself as someone incapable of falling in love. but among the guys i met and dated, ALL OF THEM WERE JUST TO FEED MY EGO. ego ego ego. tell me i'm pretty. keep asking me to go out and let me reject you over and over again. show me how much you wanna take me out on a date again. over and over and all of them were unintended! when i do talk to someone, a part of me tries! maybe this could work? but it kept ending the same way. ego food. which led me to think fuckkk i'm incapable of loving too? what am i here for then tfuck? — until i met rikko! and everything he did and said, i wanted more of it. the more he laughed, the more he cried, i wanted to keep seeing them, even if he laughs/cries for the same reasons over and over. i wanted the things he wanted. i wanted to like the shit he liked, and i did! i hated touch but i love being held by him. he was expressive too! like the other boys! but for some reason, it wasn't ego food. they became credit scores for me. each time he gets a point, it adds up to my reasons why this is it! why this is worth a try! and i struggled and fought hard. the commitment and daddy issues, the anxiety, the fear of abandonment, blah blah and he did and said the right things at the right time he went at the right places, gave the right gifts, promised the right things — all for him to turn out to be just like everybody else. he died months into my life. he couldn't keep up with the character he played, and idk why people keep playing a character on me. jodie played the supportive bff but really wanted to be some sort of main character which i think is rather difficult hence the hurtful betrayal. and then there's rikko, who played the boy i could ever want, but never was that person. he never was that person to his parents and friends, and i thought he would suddenly change for me? that's some boss level pick me girl shit. i love rikko, even now as i type this. i met him january 2020, it's july 29, 2021 today, and i love him so much. but i'm not sure if i should be with him anymore. on principle, morals, self-care, common sense, logic, religion. why? because he died. he died last january 2021. he's no longer the same rikko i fell for. his hands aren't the ones i fought myself to hold. he's not the same person who went all the way from paranaque to cainta for me at 8pm because my dad told me he almost had another baby with someone ON MY BIRTHDAY. he's not the same person i looked at up at Sm Aura thinking he could be the one. and that i belong here, with him. that i love being with him, and he could be other things, but i want to be with him. he didn't know it, but looking at him as he talked about his friends, those things ran in my head. it was the same rikko who got teary eyed when he misunderstood me there at the Sm Aura rooftop, thinking i meant that i was just playing him. the rikko who gave me a necklace for no reason, wore it on me and even had it in a totally unsuspecting case (tea bag) which made the surprise funnier and cuter, is... yep... no longer here. the rikko who kept reminding me i'm redeemable, that i'm not my anxieties, i'm not my bad brain, i'm not my small voice, that rikko is long gone. and still i stayed waiting, making excuses, reasoning out with myself, trusting that he'd come back and funny enough, 7 months in and... he's still gone.

the saddest part is he doesn't want to be like that. or so i think. he tries. i see him trying. i see the efforts. he tries to ask me about my day, about my worries, why i'm anxious, why i'm sad or irritated. he asks me about work, applications and when i'm out with friends or family. he tries to make time for me even now that he prefers valorant over ml with me, i know he tries to play ml with me. he tries to take some time off work to talk to me. he tries to post on social media now, shares my ig stories, joins my tiktoks and get along with my jokes. he tries. i know he does. but that's the thing. he has to try. and maybe those things, he just isn't. and the difference between trying and develop is with development, there is direction. there is progress. with rikko... it's unstable. sometimes he can do this, but the next times not so sure. and as someone anxious with rejection and abandonment issues, inconsistencies are okay, but a lot of them? and major ones? NOTHING GOOD WILL COME OF IT. so many things rikko doesn't know and still he has it in him to say or assume a lot of things about me. one of them is when he said i'm ALWAYS annoyed at him. does he know how many times i get annoyed at things he do? but i don't address all of them not because i don't want to but because i acknowledge that they're not worth the fight or i'm just being hotheaded or immature or maybe inconsiderate. i think first before i act on him because if i learned anything about rikko, emotions have to make sense! which is wrong in the first place but that's who i'm with! but at the times i can't help being tampo, annoyed, or upset, he finds it in him to tell me i'm a l w a y s annoyed? WHEN?!?! i even asked him when and i know he realized it but still he fell stubborn to his pride. does he also know that his gifts don't make me kilig anymore? they just relieve me at this point which is sad!!! fucking sad!!! why? for example, for my virtual college graduation i was getting anxious few days before because i'm worried he won't give me anything or do something for me which will surely trigger my ~neglected issues~ and if i do get triggered, instead of addressing and being there for me, instead of making it up to me, he'd get mad! he'd make me feel that i'm asking for so much, for the impossible, all while i see it happen to people. i see other dudes give their girlfriends things without occasion. i see them try to like the things their girlfriends like, even embarrassing ones that she posts on social media. i see men constantly expressing their love for their gfs, for the person they asked to commit to them. all while i have one who would call me demanding, needy and exhausting. imagine? lol i get anxious he won't fulfill me not because i'd get sad but because he'll get mad when i get upset. he'd make me feel awful and remind me of the reason why we should end. and i hate that. i'm fighting so hard to take it off my mind, i hate thinking that we're incompatible, unhappy and that we're just trying to revive this love we have for each other. that love really isn't enough, even for us. so when he got me this bouquet for graduation, i was 95% relieved and 5% kilig because awwwww but more importantly, I WON'T BE TAMPO WHICH MEANS I WON'T HAVE TO HIDE AND HE WON'T HAVE TO GET ANNOYED AT ME BEING UPSET! as i type this all the more i feel bad because it's so clear i shouldn't be with him anymore. it hurts each time it crosses my mind. i really see rikko as the love of my life. and idk why. because he shouldn't be. the love of your life should be someone who makes you laugh, makes you strong but can also let you cry. the love of your life is the one who holds you on your way out of dark times. the love of your life is the one who corrects you in ways that won't make you feel bad, but in ways that make you feel cared for. that he's telling you so out of concern, not because he thinks you're a difficult sick mental person who needs an on-call therapist and an attending nurse. the love of your life should be the person who makes you cry the least.

but he doesn't deserve it also. maybe he's not ready to be in a relationship just yet. and there was no harm in trying. in fact i'm happy he tried because if he hadn't added me on facebook and hit up on instagram, i would have never known what love was like. i would also have never known how fun and exciting it is to be in love. it's so nice actually! to lie down with someone and just know they'll be there when you wake up and even if you do wake up in the middle of the night, you're safe with them. and no matter what you look like in the morning or how loud you snore or how stretched you are in bed, you are loved by this person next to you. and they chose to sleep with you too. to be as vulnerable as you are. and i loved that with rikko. we sleep together, we wake up in between sleep just to look for each other's cheeks, we shower together, we do weird shower dances, we have secret baby things, and a lot more things that you would think from here on meant forever. because these things, how could you ever try them again with someone else? because from where i am right now I HATE THE THOUGHT OF THOSE WITH ANYONE WHO'S NOT RIKKO. but stay with him for what? for what at this point? i'm not God. i'm just an anxious person with daddy issues who has enough money hunger and dreams plus a mom, aunts and 1 friend who loves rikko so much. i can't change him. and i shouldn't.

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

17. Flightless Bird

"I've found youu, flightless bird," was the song that played from a white woman's iPhone as Erik strolled tall and proud into the gas station.. She had it playing as she stood in front of an open refrigerator in flip flops holding the glass door against her shoulder. Erik turned his attention to the man behind the counter with bumpy brown skin full of blackheads and a thicket of coarse, dark, and wiry hair. Flashing the badge that said Howard, he spotted movement from the corner of his eye. Someone in his peripheral.

---

Ivy stood iced over and terrified. She couldn't make herself move though she knew in her mind she needed to run.

Run, girl, move.

She backed up a little, her eyes focused on the danger looking dead at her. Could she catch a break?

It was a big snake. A big ass snake on the ground that she had to get by without running into the road and she hated snakes. She was on the extremely narrow side of the road outside of the line on the highway praying no one hit her, but she was on her way to a meetup spot. She needed to keep going to get to a further point because she felt anxious, paranoid that the dentist was after her and that she was too near. It was why she'd left the gas station, there was too much going on and she didn't feel right.

"I'm done waiting," Ivy stood losing her patience.

"Police should be coming soon," the attendant remarked in a transparent attempt to keep her away from him but she had had enough. Enough of being fearful, enough of people not believing her, enough of police.

Fuck the police, she thought as she walked gently from the small store and looked left and right before re-entering. She didn't have a dime, credit card, or ID.

"Hey. Can you call me a cab?"

"Cab?"

"CAB. A CAB. Call me a CAB," she reiterated loudly. He knew what the fuck she was saying.

He was hesitant, looking as though she were trying to set him up. Sighing, he decided to do the humane thing though it looked like it hurt him. He slowly pulled out his phone unlocking it and grudgingly handing over. Ivy snatched it and snatched a snickers and a bag of sun chips too. They were the closest items she could grab, running as best as she could. She was starving.

She tapped the screen to keep the phone awake. He couldn't abandon the store so when she got a good distance, she stopped to take a rest to breathe. Maybe the cops would come faster now since she stole someone's shit. Maybe she needed to do a string of crime to get some attention and some assistance.

Calling her boss, she left a message explaining her situation in shorthand. She didn't know anyone else's number by heart, no one's but her brother's and that nigga was in Florida with his sheisty ass. Then on top of that, it wasn't her phone she was calling from which meant he probably wouldn't even answer it in case it was someone calling to look for him or collect money.

"Ivan!" She nearly screamed when he answered.

"Ivy?... Where you been?! I been calling you, leaving you messages. Where you calling from?"

"A stolen phone. Ivan! Remember that stalker mom told you about?"

"Yeah!"

"He kidnapped me and mom! He's tryna kill me and I'm running now 'cause my ass is scared! I tried to kill him, he's like 6'2 250 and I freaked, Ivan, I don't know if he's dead or alive or some kinda physically fucked up and I'm scared to go back. He has everything! My cards, my wallet, money, ID, keys-"

"Sis, slow down. You say this nigga.. he kidnapped you?"

"Kidnapped! He sliced my ass up like Freddy, my thigh fucked up! I'm a send you a picture!" Taking a pic with the flash, I try to send it but it won't go through because of course there's no connection or hotspot. "The picture won't send right now but-"

"Hell nah where you at, I'm a get there. Can you get somewhere like a friend's house or hotel?"

"Ivan you need a credit card to book a hotel and I card the police but they ain't shit."

"What you call the police for?! Damn, sis. Rule of the hood, you never call the feds! You wanna die?!"

"IT'S ALREADY LIFE OR DEATH, IVAN!!"

"Look I'll book the hoe, just tell me where you headed."

"You gotta pay the uber too can you use your phone to set it up? I'll tell you in a few minutes where to send it to."

---

Erik peeped over his shoulder spotting a little girl next to a figure he'd initially ignored. She looked at him and that was when he knew he was right in what he'd wanted. He could have one of those things if he wanted.. one of his own. He'd teach it and feed it and raise it. It couldn't be too difficult. Perhaps it'd take after him and have an interest in the arts.. he could see it in his mind's eye. He'd provide limitless canvases.

The thought excited him. He'd be a mentor and enrich the next generation, showing the world the meaning of true artistic vision, he and his protege. His seed.

Unlike his damned mother, he'd nurture the gift.. not fear it. She didn't deserve a child as brilliant as he. She couldn't handle it or see the blessing for what it was and in the end.. it cost her her life.

He threw a packet of lifesavers on the counter looking at the attendant.

"You reported an injured woman.. I don't see an injured woman..," Erik glared.

"Yes, I called and reported a woman who came in with the blood on her clothing and on her thigh?" Get to the point. "She was black woman," he gestured, "She stole from me, she took my-," I don't care. "My phone and ran ou-"

"About how long ago?" Erik's stare was pressuring.

"It was about- It was about fifteen minutes ago.. What about my phone?"

Fuck your phone.

"An injured young lady is wandering about and you're concerned about a phone?" Erik's squint shamed the man and silenced him all at once. "Do you have any sort of tracker on it?"

"Yes. It has happened before, my phone being stolen, so I installed what is an app to help me to-"

"Yeah aight take this phone and do what you gotta do.." Erik handed over Ivy's phone watching as the attendant worked his magic to point him in the direction of the lost young lady.

"Very effective app," Erik commented watching the guy work. He tuned out completely once the guy started his story about his last time being robbed. "Alright," he cut in interrupting one of the most uninteresting tales of the year, "When I locate the young lady we'll get her some medical attention and it should be pretty easy to return your phone to you.

"You need information? To write in a- uh report?"

The reminder had Erik itching to leave. He had his hot trail and he wasn't actually an officer.

"Yes, let me take that info," he nodded with a snap, "Oh gee, seems I need to head to my cruiser. Give me a second will ya?"

Exiting the store with the mints in hand, unpaid for, he quickly climbed into the car with a shake of his head and pulled away.

@dessianna1 @twistedcharismaaa @soufcakmistress

[justanotherlifeff]

Levi Ackerman × reader

Genre: Angst, Hurt/comfort, Fluff, matured themes, slowburn

Warning: There's mentions and descriptions of underage rape and suicidal themes and self harm. DETAILED SMUT IN THIS CHAPTER

No one's POV

(Y/N) knocked on Erwin's door. The ring was already on her finger. Levi opened the door with an annoyed face. His expression brightened slightly after seeing it's (Y/N) as he held the door for her. "(Y/N), please sit" Erwin told (Y/N) pointing at the chair in front of his table. "Now that both of you are here, what's the news that you wanted to give me, Levi?" Erwin asked Levi as (Y/N) sat down. "(Y/N) and I are engaged now. I thought you'd want to know." Levi told Erwin in a bland tone.

"I wonder why I'm not surprised." Erwin sighed as he replied to Levi's statement with sarcasm. “Levi, as her only guardian, I can't allow you to marry (Y/N) unless you get a stable home. We all know that raising a child in the regiment headquarters isn't possible." Erwin added. "Yes, I thought about it too. I'll make arrangements for a house and try to get on with this shit as quickly as possible. After all, this peace won't last forever." Levi answered to Erwin.

"Anyway, I called both of you here for a different reason..." Erwin started but was interrupted by (Y/N). "You called me for something?" she asked with a confused tone. Levi only told her to go to Erwin's office to break the news about their extremely bland engagement. (Y/N) wasn't concerned about the fact that Levi's proposal wasn't very glamorous because she never cared about grand romantic gestures and all that. She was just immensely happy because Levi took the effort to buy such a nice ring for her, that after abandoning his duties. Levi wouldn't do all that if he didn't love her. Erwin looked at Levi and raised his one of his massive eyebrows.

"I forgot to mention that to her" Levi said casually. He definitely wasn't gonna let them know that he was so nervous while telling her to get the ring that he forgot to mention (Y/N) that Erwin called her. "I see. Well, now that you're here, there's a mission I'd like to discuss with you. If you're uncomfortable with it, you can always refuse." Erwin told (Y/N) with a slightly concerned voice. "What's the mission?" (Y/N) asked monotonously.

"Well, you see, we weren't able to capture all the lords who worked for the Reiss family and enthroned the fake king. There are exactly three lords who are not captured yet and we got a lead that they have properties in the underground city. Almost all rich lords have properties there in case the wall breaks or for any emergency situation. The documents on those properties are as shady as it can be and can't give us any right information. I was planning to send Levi and Hanji to pinpoint their location by an undercover mission but Hanji, having a curious mind like herself, can attract attention. Levi alone can't do it because in his time, he was quiet popular in the underground. They will recognise him if he tries to spy on people. You, (Y/N), are the most capable person after him but given that you're expecting and your past, I didn't want to involve you into this. But, right now, we don't have much of a choice. If you're uncomfortable with it, we will have to send Mikasa with Levi but she's not as matured as you are and may make bad decisions which could turn out to be risky for us." Erwin explained.

A rush of bad memories went through her mind but at the end, (Y/N) decided that she had to face her past. "I'll go." she answered calmly. Erwin scanned her face before saying, "I see, well, the mission is simple. You two won't engage in fights with anyone. You will only pinpoint their locations and report back. The rest will be taken care of by Levi squad and Hanji squad. You will have to go to the upper class whore houses because knowing how Lords usually are, you probably will find them there. There's this tavern out there where all the upper class people goes to drink. It's called the Devil's Punchbowl.." Erwin was interrupted as Levi snorted.

"I know that place. The owner had a shit load of ego" he muttered. (Y/N) decided that she wanted to hear the story behind that. "As I was saying, (Y/N), you will get inside and get information. You're not too popular yet, at least not in the underground. That's more or less the plan now." Erwin explained. "I see. Understood." (Y/N) replied. Just then, Hanji entered the room with 39 other squad leaders of the survey corps. (Y/N) and Levi looked at Erwin with a confused expression. "Commander, I fetched everyone here." Hanji said before saluting. Erwin stood up and came in front of them. (Y/N) did the same and stood beside Levi.

Erwin then, explained the whole situation, "I was planning to choose the next commander before our next expedition to reseal wall Maria. I am confused about who to choose because I have two candidates on my list. It's either Hanji because of her quick thinking and innovative ideas or (Y/N) because of her quick thinking and ability to see patterns in the enemy and counterattack perfectly. I thought if all the squad leaders here except Hanji help me out with a voting. It's pretty simple, when I call out one of their names, you will raise your hand to vote for her." Erwin explained. (Y/N) was shocked at the whole thing but Hanji, however was not because Erwin mentioned that she was a candidate for the next commander long ago.

"Anyone voting for Hanji, raise your hand." Erwin commanded and 20 people raised their hands. "I see.. I guess it's a tie. This makes things rather difficult." Erwin sighed. "Commander? May I have a word?" (Y/N) told Erwin with a confident voice. "Yes?" Erwin asked. "I don't think I'm fit for this role." she stated. "Why is that, (Y/N)?" Erwin asked, curious about why she was throwing out the huge career opportunity.

"Commander, I am not suitable for this role because, firstly, I'm not the type of person with good leadership skills. My trainee corps records clearly states that I'm not good at teamwork. I will never be able to achieve the trust of a whole military division just by my strength. Yes, I might be able to make quick decisions but I can't ever make actual battle plans. Commander, you yourself invented a whole battle formation. I could never do something like that. Hanji however, made that explosive added with 3DMG within a few hours. I believe that Hanji would be a better choice." (Y/N) explained.

"But... But you outsmarted Commander Erwin that time... No one has ever been able to do that..." Hanji tried to interject but Levi stopped her. "Hanji, that's because you never tried to outsmart the commander." he said to her. Then he turned at Erwin and said, "Commander, I'd like to change my vote to Hanji. I just realized that Hanji will do a better job than (Y/N)." "Well, it's decided then. Hanji will be next in the chain of command." Erwin declared. Then he turned to (Y/N) and said, "As for (Y/N), you still deserve a promotion. I think, as you're almost as strong as Levi, a second special operations squad could be formed with you as a squad leader. I will complete the paperwork for that.".

"Thank you, Commander." (Y/N) replied professionally but a smile crept on her face. This really was an amazing day for her. Erwin then turned at everyone else and said that they were dismissed and everyone walked out of Erwin's office. While going out, Levi told (Y/N), "Congratulations on your promotion." with a smug look. "Thank you. How do you think we should celebrate it?" (Y/N) answered with an equally smug expression. "Well, I have some things in mind. We need to go to our room though. Shall we?" Levi mumbled near her ear, making her the skin tingle due to his warm breath on her neck. "After you" (Y/N) answered with a smirk.

When they reached Levi's room, Levi pinned (Y/N) to a wall and kissed her passionately. He helped her get rid of the survey corps coat that she had on and also the uniform underneath. "Go to bed, (Y/N). I'll be back shortly" He commanded her before picking up the clothes and retiring to the closet. (Y/N) knew that he will fold those up now. After all, he was the neatest person she met. She remembered a day from back when she just joined the special operations squad. She had been given stable duty that day.

"How do you never complain when heichou gives you stable duties? Everyone hates mucking the stables and he is downright unfair to you because you win sparring challenges with him sometimes." Eren ranted. He was walking with (Y/N) to the stable. "Well, he wasn't wrong. I did dirty his uniform this time. I could've been more careful with the tea if I wasn't reading a book while working. I don't think anyone would tolerate their subordinate throwing tea at them." (Y/N) muttered as a reply.

"Well, you're not wrong... But you did apologise. If he made you clean his uniform, that would be more fair. Mucking the stable seems like a bit too much." Eren told (Y/N) with a sympathetic look. (Y/N) shrugged it off and said, "Well, he's the captain. He's the one who makes the decision of what punishment we should get. I'd rather trust his judgement instead of calling it unfair.". "No wonder he doesn't hate you as much as he hates us..." Eren muttered before leaving (Y/N) alone.

Levi came to check how well the mucking was going to find (Y/N) scrubbing the last stall. It had only been three hours and Levi didn't expect (Y/N) to be done with the third stall. He checked the other stalls and found them practically spotless. The horses were tied on a tree nearby. "I didn't expect her to figure that out so soon... Eren took 3 times of re cleaning to figure that out..." Levi thought. The cleaning was above average. Almost as good as him. "You're pretty good at this. You'll be cleaning my room from now on." he commanded. Since then, (Y/N)'s cleaning duties were to clean Levi's room. They would chat while she was cleaning about books they both read. They had many friendly conversations, ones that lead to them having feelings for each other. Ones that lead to (Y/N) trusting Levi with her past.

It seemed stupid to (Y/N), how they denied their feelings for so long when they were there all that time. Levi came back, naked, while (Y/N) was lost in thoughts. "What are you thinking?" Levi asked her before pinning her down on the bed and kissing her neck. "I was thinking about that day. The day when you asked me to start cleaning your room?" (Y/N) sighed.

"Mhhm? That was a good decision. Those brats can't clean as good as you." Levi mumbled before going back to kissing her neck. His hands moved towards her vagina as his kisses got rougher, leaving marks on her neck. She was panting slightly as his fingers made his way into her vagina, stretching it, filling it. When he felt like she was wet enough, without any warning, he positioned himself and plunged into her making her yelp in pleasure. He moved in a rough pace, making her come closer to euphoria.

Meanwhile, Erwin sent Hanji to collect (Y/N)'s trainee corps report card and her so called birth certificate. Hanji, as she had nothing to do due to the lack of a lab in this survey corps branch, decided to get done with her work as fast as possible. She knew that (Y/N) was staying with Levi and decided to go to Levi's office, which was attached to Levi's room. To Levi's distaste, she never knocked before entering Levi's office and this time was no exception. Only, this time, she actually regretted doing it.

After entering Levi's office, she clearly heard the sound of sex and (Y/N)'s moaning from the other side of the door to Levi's room. She thought it would be funny to interrupt them and thus she called out, "Oi Levi! I need (Y/N) here for a second. Erwin sent me to get some documents from her." The noise stopped and after a minute or so, a fully dressed Levi came out of the room with an annoyed expression. "Don't you understand the concept of knocking, Hanji?" he told Hanji with his voice filled with contempt.

"Hey, not in mood for one of your boring lectures. I asked for (Y/N) anyway. Not you." Hanji said casually with a smile. "She probably will kill you when she's here." Levi replied in a deadpan voice. Just after Levi finished his sentence, (Y/N) came out of the room with a murderous glint in her eyes. "You have amazing timing, Hanji." she sneered at Hanji. Hanji deserved it though because she arrived just moments before (Y/N) reached an orgasm.

"Come on (Y/N)! I'd not..ahem..interrupt if I didn't have a good reason!" Hanji tried to reason with her. Hanji understood the fact that (Y/N) did not approve of her little joke at all and she didn't want to make (Y/N) hate her. After all, she considered (Y/N) as a good friend and the fact that (Y/N) set up her and Moblit together proved it. "I'm not carrying shopping bags for you again if you don't have a good enough excuse. What documents do you want?" (Y/N) asked in an annoyed voice. She wasn't as angry as before.

"Erwin asked for your trainee corps report card and your birth certificate. They are required for the paperwork for your promotion." Hanji explained herself. (Y/N) didn't reply to that and retired to Levi's room to dig those documents out from her bag. She didn't get a chance to unpack yet. When she found those, she handed them to Hanji and asked, "Well, is that all?" in a tone that clearly made Hanji realise that she wasn't wanted in the room anymore. Hanji understood why and decided to give them the privacy. "Yep. That's all" she answered cheerfully before leaving the office.

(Y/N) POV

Levi was pounding into me and just as I started loosing all sense of my surroundings and reach orgasm, Levi stopped. "Don't stop! please!" I gasped but he pulled out and grunted with a sarcastic tone, "Shitty glasses is here. That woman didn't knock again and that must be the most amazing timing I can think of". " I'll kill her" I muttered before getting up on the bed. After Hanji was gone, I looked back at Levi and said, "Well? Let's continue where we left off?". Levi looked at me and said, " You know what (Y/N), I'll give you two options. We can either continue where we left off or try something new. You choose." with a smirk.

I decided that something new would be better since I was far from an orgasm right now. "Let's try something new." I answered. "Good choice. Now, go wash your asshole." he commanded. I was confused by his command but I stripped and went to the bathroom and did what he said anyway. When I was back, our clothes were already folded and Levi was putting them back in the closet. He made me suck his dick to get it hard again and then he made me turn around and bend. After that, he fucked me and made me cum. Did he forget about trying something new? Just when that thought crossed my mind, I found him using his fingers to scoop up my cum from outside my vagina and smothering them on my asshole. Then I felt his finger poke at it.

Suddenly, I understood what this was about. I read about it in books. He was going to try anal. I blushed furiously at the thought. I felt one of his fingers getting inserted in me slowly and a satisfied sigh escaped my mouth. He moved the finger to and fro slowly making me feel the weirdest sensations ever. More fingers were inserted, the sensation increased gradually by time until I felt his dick poking on that hole.

"Levi, it wont fit..." I tried to tell him but he suddenly plunged it all in, making me yelp in pain and pleasure. He didn't move for a while giving me some time to adjust to his size. "Tell me when you're ready" he muttered as he pulled my hair to get my face close to his. After a while, when the pain subsided, I told him, "You can move now..". He didn’t waste a second and started out moving slowly, increasing his speed rapidly. The amazing sensation was numbing my legs and blurring my mind. Suddenly, I felt something warm flowing inside me.

"Do me a favour and clench your ass." Levi muttered to me before pulling out. I did what he said and after pulling out, he picked me up and went to the bathroom because he figured out that my legs were jelly at this point. After getting me to the toilet seat, he commanded me to wash myself before leaving the bathroom.

No one's POV

It was time for lunch and (Y/N) was already dressed. Levi, however took time because the smallest crinkle on his clothes were unacceptable to him. (Y/N) often wondered how he managed to notice such small details on his clothes. Even during combat, he always tried to stay as clean and tidy as possible. "Levi, when are you buying that house that you talked about to Uncle Erwin?" (Y/N) asked as Levi was ironing his shirt with a metal pot filled with warm water.

"I'm planning to buy it before going to the next expedition. We will have to order the furniture too. Those will take a few months to be ready..." Levi muttered as he tried to get rid of that one crease which didn't seem to be going no matter how hard he tried. "Well, do you have any plans about where we should get the house?" (Y/N) asked. Levi paused at that. He didn't make any plans as he never thought he'd be in a situation like this. "Well, we could think about it later" he replied before wearing his shirt. As they were walking towards the canteen, he told (Y/N), "You're not seating with my squad today. You're a squad leader now so sit at the squad leader's table." (Y/N) nodded at him as they went together towards the squad leader table.

"Hey, maybe I should let the squad know about my promotion. After all, we will still be working together and they deserve to know why I'm not sitting with them.." (Y/N) started to say before getting interrupted by Levi who simply said, "Go ahead" before walking towards the leader's table. (Y/N) went to Levi squad's table and before she was able to say anything, the team started congratulating her on her promotion. "News does travel fast" (Y/N) thought. "I'll be sitting at the leader's table from now on but I'll see you guys during training. Our squads will be working together you see" (Y/N) started but was interrupted by Sasha.

"(Y/N), don't worry about us. We are your friends. We will find a way to spend time with you. You better become a better squad leader than Levi Heichou" she said but before (Y/N) could reply, Connie said, "Pretty sure that squad leader (Y/N) is scarier than Levi heichou sometimes." "Oi, call me (Y/N). You're not in my squad and we graduated together. By the way, how am I scarier than Levi?" (Y/N) asked, completely confused. "Well, you see, you're scary enough yourself but if anyone tries to hit on you or mess with you, that's basically picking on a personal fight with Levi Heichou. I'm surprised that horse face is still alive" Eren elaborated with a protesting Jean muttering "Shut up you suicidal bastard!".

After having a small talk with Levi squad, (Y/N) went to the Leader's table with her lunch. Hanji was already there and Levi was absent. "Where's Levi?" (Y/N) asked Hanji as she sat down beside her. "Oh, well, Queen Historia came to visit Erwin on some business. She called for Levi. He will be here soon." Hanji explained. The squad leader's table in this scout regiment branch was a long table that went horizontally to both ends of the canteen. It was placed at the end of the canteen, conveniently near the buffet table. Squad leaders were still coming in.

As (Y/N) started eating, two male squad leaders that she didn't know sat in front of her and Hanji on the other side of the table and one of them said, "Well, it seems like we have a new face around here. Weren't you a cadet only like a few months back?" "Yes. I got promoted today." (Y/N) answered politely. "Yes, we know that. We were there when it happened. You're sleeping with Levi aren't you? I don't understand why Commander Erwin gives a shitty thug so much importance. I heard you're even carrying Levi's bastard. Is that how you got the promotion? Just asking cause you don't look like you can take down a fly. Strongest woman my ass" the other man said with a smirk.

"For your information Steve, (Y/N)..." Hanji started with an angry expression but was interrupted by (Y/N) as she said, "Oi Hanji, don't you think the stew tastes amazing today?". Hanji was surprised by (Y/N)'s extremely calm reaction and she figured that (Y/N) had a plan and thus, didn't talk much on that matter. The guy named Steve, however, did not understand and continued, "Oi Tom, she isn't even denying it. Heard she calls the commander 'uncle'. The commander isn't her uncle for sure. Heard she's from the underground and was taken in by the (L/N). Pretty sure she has an affair with the commander too. What do you recon she'll do to the bastard?" he asked his companion who was named Tom.

"I dunno, probably sell it to some lord or something like any whore would." Tom chuckled but stopped immediately to find (Y/N) looking at him with a calm but piercing look. (Y/N) gave him a small smile and said, "You see, Steve and Tom, you are wrong in three places. You're right. I am a whore. Judging from how nosy you people are, I'm pretty sure you two know that I was found in a whore house in the underground. Here's where you're wrong. Firstly, you clearly didn't do much research on anything from after I got out from the underground. If you did, you'd not question my promotion. Heck, you'd not try to mess with me. Well, as you two didn't do your research properly, let's start with a fist fight. Practical classes are always better than theoretical ones right? Oh, and I don't want to fight Tom. Steve, you're the big guy, let's do a round. If I can't get you under my feet in 30 seconds, you win.".

"You'll fight me? Sugar, I don't hit women" Steve smirked. The whole leader's table were looking at (Y/N) and Steve. Levi arrived the scene just a while ago and heard most of what (Y/N) said. "(Y/N), I'll take care of him.." Levi tried to say but (Y/N) stopped him and said, "Let me do this by myself." "Do you happen to be afraid, Steve? " (Y/N) asked Steve as she stood up from her chair, rolled the sleeves of her shirt and walked in front of the seated Steve. "Steve, she's asking for it. Just beat her ass" Tom told Steve in a bored voice. Steve didn't answer to that and stood up. There was quiet a bit of space between the buffet table and the leader's table. The whole canteen was looking at Steve and (Y/N) now.

Steve charged at (Y/N) but (Y/N) simply used her hands to use Steve's height and weight to knock him down. She saw Eren do that to Jean multiple times and practiced it with Levi back when she was getting knife training. Of course, most people weren't surprised by such a feat from (Y/N) because they all trusted Erwin's decisions. As Steve was trying to get up, he saw (Y/N) casually walking towards him and kick him in the face with an extremely accurate amount of speed and at an extremely accurate area of the head which knocked him out.

"Well, Tom, do your research better next time. By the way, your second mistake was to think that Uncle Erwin isn't my uncle, because, he is. Thirdly, you shouldn't have said that thing about me selling my kid. I wouldn't have given lowlifes like you any attention if you didn't do that. Now that you succeeded in attracting my attention, help your friend to the medics. He'll have a concussion." (Y/N) told Tom, who was speechless by (Y/N)'s abilities. After Tom left with an unconscious Steve, (Y/N) sat back at her seat and started with her stew.

"Those are the bullies among the squad leaders. There are three types of squad leaders around here. Bullies like them, the normal ones, and people like myself or Levi, the ones who actually are assets to the Survey corps. These bullies thought you're one of the normal ones but they didn't think you'd be with the elites. They don't usually sit with us. They just came here today to mess with you. You'd not see them around usually." Hanji explained. "I reckoned you'd find this type of divisions in the military police. Not the Survey Corps." (Y/N) muttered as she slurped down her now cold stew. "(Y/N), every military division has shit like this. Some more than the others. None of the divisions are perfect." Levi answered to that before looking at Hanji and asking, "Hanji, where do you reckon we should buy a house?"

[AUTHOR'S NOTE: Remember how (Y/N) walked on to Petra kissing Levi while getting to her cleaning duties before the 57th expedition? Now you know how she got the duty of cleaning Levi's room in the first place.]

To be continued...

Taglist: @reality-is-often-disappointing, @kingtamakimurder

[intrepidmare]

Since I skipped doing this a few weeks, today I bring you a longer selection of must-read, A+ rated fanfics that are the best example of how talented people are in these fandoms. There are 2 special mentions: the first is a story written by my own hand (if I rec other people's works why not mine as well, right 😉), and the second is from a fandom I read just occasionally but this story in particular touched a very personal fiber.

Without further ado, here it's my recs of the week. Hopefully, some of these will help you to endure better all this isolation we're forced to be in. Stay healthy, stay home, and wash your hands.

Click on the title to go to Ao3 link.

Olicity

The Thirst by @felicityollies

Mature | one-shot | vampire au

Felicity is the leading vampire expert and vampire/human ambassador in Star City (and surrounding area). The police have asked her to speak to the master of the city in relation to an ongoing case, but first, she must speak to the master’s second in command, Oliver Queen.

You Used To Be My Friend (But I Learned My Lesson) by @tdgal1

Teen | WiP | angst, canon divergence

Arrow skims over feels so this is my fix it fic for season 1-2. Lots of canon but it is an AU so events may be out of order. Tommy and Felicity friendship. This is my idea of how these characters felt during these scenes and how they may have acted differently. Not a great summary but read and let me know what you think. Exploring deeper feelings that the show won't.

The Old King Is Dead (Long Live The King) by @lucyyh

Teen | one-shot | alternate universe

My olicity entry for "Olicity clue challenge. Nanda Parbat AU.

Happiness by @hope-for-olicity

Teen | one-shot | light angst, fluff, canon divergence

Thea and Felicity go out for a girls night at the new night club Happiness, set in Season 3. Olicity Clue entry.

My Smoak Girl by me

Teen | one-shot | fluff, light angst, spy au

Oliver takes steps to protect Felicity from an assassin. Piece for Olicity Clue.

Braime

Modern Lion Pride by @ddagent

Teen | WiP series | Fluff

University professor Jaime, museum curator Brienne, and their three children Catelyn, Brynden, and Joanna.

Fell Heavy In Your Arms by @lionoflannistarth

Teen | one-shot | fix-it, hurt/comfort

Jaime wakes up from the horror that was ep 8,05.

Maybe, Perhaps, Almost by @lionoflannistarth

Mature | complete | fix-it, hurt/comfort

“You haven’t visited the Maester yet, have you?” Brienne asks.

“Oh come now,” Jaime just shrugs, looking up at her with a boyish grin, “you’ve seen me worse.”

Her blue eyes are shining, brimming with life and for a second he feels a mad abandon. She is alive. So is he.

He should just fucking kiss her.

A Good Match by @nire-the-mithridatist & @slipsthrufingers

Explicit | WiP | angst, canon divergence

Renly’s new bride was the talk of the castle.

All The Things I'll Never Have by @nightreaderenigma

Mature | one-shot | canon compliant, fluff

In their tent in the cold of the North, Brienne bravely shares with Jaime a vision of her ideal future.

Which happens to include marriage to him...

The Mandalorian

Forces Beyond Our Control by tamehistorian

Mature | complete | hurt/comfort, post s1

Another planet, another dead end.

Beside him, the child let out a quiet, concerned noise, his small claws clutching at his sleeve. He brushed a finger over an ear in the hopes of soothing him.

“I’m alright, ad’ika,” he said softly. A blatant lie. “We’ll get out of this.” A promise.

*

Din searches for the child's kind.

Redemption by RewriteTheStars5218

Teen | WiP | hurt/comfort, angst

I am a sucker for hurt/comfort so I wanted to write/expand on when Mando gets injured from the E-Web generator exploding. I’m also changing what happens after IG heals Mando because I think he should be a little more messed up after getting caught in an explosion and getting tossed around by a TIE fighter.

One foot in front of the other by @shaicarus

Not Rated | one-shot | hurt/comfort, post-s1

It felt as if the air itself had turned into tar. He eyed the last few dozen meters back to the Razor Crest with the same gritty determination with which he’d brandished a vibroblade at a charging mudhorn.

Bits of Beskar by @coffee-quill

General | one-shot | fluff

“He may be too small for such weight,” she says. “Any decent protection may be too much.”

“Not full armor,” he says. “I was thinking vambraces. Enough to show, but not real protection. Thinner, lighter. It would have to be redone if he still grows, but it would be enough.”

“Hm.” The Armorer looks at him, then nods. “I see what you mean. I will see what can work.”

-----

The child receives his first beskar armor.

You're Not Alone In This by itsagoodthing

Not rated | WiP | hurt/comfort, canon diverg

While struggling with the lingering injuries sustained from the battle on Navarro, Din's a little floored when he gets a hand from one of the last people he would have ever expected to.

Stucky

Let Me Hold You Close by icoulddothisallday

General | complete| angst, mpreg, alfa/omega

When Steve went down with the Valkyrie, he'd only just started to wonder if he might be pregnant. But there's no way a baby could have survived 70 years in the ice. Right?

+

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