#How do I deal with emotions when trading with a small account?

[stockexperttrading]

Delving into the intricacies of trading, the blog provides a thorough examination of different trading strategies, spotlighting both day trading and swing trading. It further dissects crucial analysis methods, namely technical and fundamental analysis. The narrative underscores the critical role of aligning chosen strategies with individual goals and the guidance that Funded Traders Global can provide in this regard.

[ladymostdeject]

Seeking Radiodust Beta Reader

I'm writing a post season 1 Five Times Angel Dust called Alastor Daddy fic and I'm looking for a beta!

I'm three chapters in, and it's about 14k long now, and each chapter has been exponentially longer than the last, so I really don't know how long it's going to be.

I'm looking for help with typos and sentence structure, and maybe someone to bounce some later ideas off of, also would love help deciding how to tag it.

It's surprisingly light on the daddy-kink considering the name. Like... very light.

Actually if someone who's into Daddy-kink wants to be my Daddy-Kink advisor that would be amazing.

Contains: Present-tense, Angel is super horny for Kaiju!Alastor, asexual alastor, bdsm in later chapters, though I don't know how explicit I'm going to get (knowing Angel though probably pretty explicit), It swaps perspectives between Angel and Alastor, Alastor is... so crazy. I think it's pretty funny, but I'm also not shying away from dark ex-abuse-victim-stuff (angel doesn't work for Val anymore but there's fallout it's not swept under the rug).

There's a sample from chapter 2 under the cut

That spider fellow was turning out to be far more entertaining than Alastor could have ever expected!

Why, he hadn’t danced this much since his last partner started stepping out with that wretched moth and his brain oozed out of his… well. It seems very clear to Alastor that Valentino’s hellish power is to make other demons boring.

Not that Vox was ever anything but a mediocre dancer. Angel, though! Oh ho! Not only is Angel excellent at following, but he already knows the proper forms, so Alastor is free to improvise and experiment on the fly! Not even dear Charlie can keep up with him quite so well, quick study though she is. What a waste! To have had him chained to a harlot’s dancing pole for so long, when he has such a talent! And passion! Every time Alastor has solicited a spin around the floor, Angel has indulged him with a joyful laugh.

Then of course, there’s the cooking. With all the new wayward souls to feed, Alastor has had a crash course in Italian batch meals from a surprisingly knowledgeable teacher. Furthermore, he seems quite happy to trade a story about his Zizi for one about Mother. Though, Alastor frequently adds extra seasoning when Angel’s back is turned. His family recipes are tasty, but could always use a little more kick. The result is something Angel calls “Louisitalian”.

And! And! Just the other day Niffty came to get him on account of some commotion and by the time Alastor arrived, Angel had it well in hand! He’d knocked the poor sap right to the floor and had him pinned, fine as a dandelion! Effective communication, with magnificent stagecraft!

Afterwards, he had been cycling between playful glee and that long, deep stillness that Alastor had come to know intimately. That night he saw something powerful in Angel. It was a thing he’d had to find on his own, and it was rare. If exercising such a small amount of passion was enough to trigger that state for Angel, Alastor suspected he would make as natural a hunter as he does a dancer.

Best not to actually invite him on a hunt, though. It would upset Charlie if Angel started killing recreationally again, and Alastor has already put a great deal of effort into cultivating an arrangement with her that results in few questions about what exactly Alastor is doing when nobody is looking.

He will have a think on how to manufacture further opportunities for Angel to practice violence that Charlie cannot morally object to.

What would it have been like if he had recruited Angel in those early days before he was broken and left to fester? It would have been so useful to have him in the collection! To have a true artist’s soul, free to shape as he’d like! He marveled at all the different directions he could have taken his myriad talents, instead of having him wasting away underneath that – UGH! Why it makes him feel… Well, its an unpleasant emotion, to be sure.

The problem is fixed now, Alastor took care of it quite handily. If every problem could be solved in such a simple and satisfying manner, he’d run out of problems altogether! If he had killed that frivolous moth decades ago, he might have been able to free another soul or two wilting under his insufficient light. Why, he’d practically become a philanthropist in the autumn of his career, and isn’t that just the way of it, sometimes?

Unfortunately, the only thing that would upset Charlie more than the ruination of Angel’s little redemption effort would be Alastor collecting his soul. And to think she didn’t consider herself an overlord. A tragedy.

If he can’t own him, he’ll have to settle for a dance here and there. At least it will keep him entertained while this little job drags on.

The hotel wasn’t supposed to work, and his job here is so much more complicated now that it does.

~*~

Angel Dust has a long, storied career being groped, manhandled, and roughhoused in every way imaginable. He’d even invented some new ones. And yet, he feels as if he’s never been grabbed more in his life. Alastor has popped out of so many nooks and crannies that Angel’s startle reflex has given up the ghost.

Usually, it goes like this: Some swing tune will start playing out of fucking thin air, and he just holds out his arms, ready to be swept away by Alastor’s shenanigans.

He hummed one beloved song from the Radio Demon’s childhood or some shit, and suddenly he’s being hunted by a dance beast! Alastor might not be regular-horny, but he’s, like, the dance-horniest man in Hell! Angel has started wearing his more comfortable boots all the time even when they don’t match.

Angel had seen him spinning Charlie around plenty of times, usually when he was trying to manipulate her into doing something he wanted (or into forgiving him when Alastor does something terrible), but Alastor doesn’t seem to be trying to get anything out of Angel other than a dance (or two five hundred). At least he hasn’t set off Angel’s bullshit detector yet.

Angel had wanted Alastor to look at him, to notice him. And oh boy, did he get what he asked for. That attention is so much weirder and more fanatical than he could have ever expected. On the other hand, it comes with way less sex than he would prefer. Al’s such a gentleman, he won’t even try to cop a feel! Doesn’t he have eyes? Does he not appreciate Angel’s sexual magnetism!? It’s insulting, is what it is.

It’s not like Angel doesn’t also love a good dance, he absolutely does, though he’s starting to question if anyone loves dancing as much as Alastor. He loves the breathless feeling he gets dancing with Alastor, but he’d like him to turn it down from an eleven to, like, a nine and a half - eight, minimum.

It’s really cute, actually. Angel can tell he’s trying to make friends, but it’s almost like no one ever taught him how. Or how to relax.

[iamtechviking]

Are New Year’s Resolutions Good? The Downsides of Setting New Year’s Goals

New Year’s resolutions are a common tradition for many people who want to start the year with a fresh and positive outlook. They set goals for themselves, such as saving more money, losing weight, or learning a new skill. But are these goals really helpful, or do they actually hinder our progress and happiness? In this blog post, I will argue that setting New Year’s goals is not a good idea, and that we should focus instead on implementing routines and systems that help us become our better selves.

Why Goals Are Not Great

There are three main reasons why I think goals are not great, especially when they are formed at the beginning of the year.

1. Goals Set Us Up for Failure and Unrealistic Expectations

When we set a goal, we usually have a vision of what we want to achieve, and how we will feel when we get there. We imagine ourselves as a new person, with a new identity and a new life. But this vision is often unrealistic and disconnected from our current reality. We don’t take into account the challenges, obstacles, and setbacks that we will inevitably face along the way. We also don’t consider the trade-offs, sacrifices, and opportunity costs that we will have to make to pursue our goal.

For example, if you want to save 20% of your paycheck, but you currently save zero, you are setting yourself up for a huge gap between your expectation and your reality. You will have to drastically change your spending habits, cut down on your expenses, and possibly give up some of the things that you enjoy or need. You will also have to deal with the stress, pressure, and guilt that come with trying to stick to your budget. And if you fail to meet your goal, you will feel disappointed, frustrated, and demoralized.

Instead of setting a specific and rigid goal, it would be better to set a general and flexible direction. For example, you could say, “I want to save more money this year.” This way, you are not tied to a fixed number, but you are still motivated to improve your financial situation. You can also celebrate any progress that you make, no matter how small, and adjust your plan as you go along.

2. Goals Are Time-Bound and Don’t Tell You What to Do Next

Another problem with goals is that they are usually time-bound. They have a deadline, a finish line, or an end point. This means that once you achieve your goal, you are done. You have nothing else to strive for, nothing else to motivate you, nothing else to guide you. You might even feel lost, empty, or bored after reaching your goal.

Moreover, goals don’t tell you what to do next. They don’t tell you how to maintain your results, how to keep growing, or how to adapt to changing circumstances. They don’t tell you how to deal with the consequences, implications, or side effects of your achievement.

For example, if you want to lose 20 pounds, and you manage to do so by following a strict diet for a month, you might feel proud and happy for a while. But then what? How do you prevent yourself from gaining back the weight? How do you sustain your healthy eating habits? How do you cope with the social, emotional, and psychological aspects of your weight loss? How do you handle the feedback, comments, or reactions of others?

Instead of focusing on a single and finite goal, it would be better to focus on a continuous and infinite process. For example, you could say, “I want to eat healthier and exercise more this year.” This way, you are not obsessed with a specific outcome, but you are committed to a lifestyle change. You can also enjoy the journey, learn from your experiences, and adjust your actions as you go along.

3. Systems Create a Happier, More Sustainable, and More Fulfilling Life

The third and final reason why I think goals are not great is that they are not as effective as systems in creating a happier, more sustainable, and more fulfilling life. Systems are the habits, routines, and practices that we follow on a regular basis, without relying on willpower, motivation, or external rewards. Systems are the things that we do automatically, effortlessly, and consistently, because they are part of who we are and how we live.

Systems are better than goals for several reasons. First, systems are more realistic and achievable. They are based on our current situation, our available resources, and our personal preferences. They are also flexible and adaptable, allowing us to modify them as we learn, grow, and change. Second, systems are more rewarding and satisfying. They provide us with immediate feedback, positive reinforcement, and intrinsic motivation. They also allow us to enjoy the process, not just the outcome. Third, systems are more impactful and meaningful. They have a cumulative and compounding effect, leading to exponential and lasting results. They also align with our values, purpose, and vision, making us feel more authentic and fulfilled.

For example, if you want to write a book, instead of setting a goal of writing a certain number of words or pages by a certain date, you could create a system of writing every day, at a specific time and place, for a specific duration and quality. This way, you are not stressed about the deadline, the word count, or the quality of your work, but you are focused on the habit of writing. You are also more likely to enjoy writing, improve your skills, and finish your book.

Conclusion

In conclusion, I believe that setting New Year’s resolutions is not a good idea, and that we should focus instead on implementing routines and systems that help us become our better selves. Goals are not great, because they set us up for failure and unrealistic expectations, they are time-bound and don’t tell us what to do next, and they are not as effective as systems in creating a happier, more sustainable, and more fulfilling life. Systems are better, because they are more realistic and achievable, more rewarding and satisfying, and more impactful and meaningful. So, this year, instead of setting a goal, try creating a system. You might be surprised by the results.

[wiener-soldiers]

so, you’re real - tommy shelby

summary: while high off his ass, tommy shelby is approached by a mysterious woman offering him something more valuable than drugs: information. your services become essential to how tommy conducts business, but your anonymity means he can’t help but fall in love with you from a distance.

words: 5.4k

pairing: tommy shelby x fem!reader (race non-specific)

warnings: tommy shelby. that’s the warning.

a/n: first tommy fic :D he’s one of the most beautifully complex characters ever in television imo but that also means his kinda nightmare to right. so,,, he might come off a little ooc because he’s very soft!tommy in this. i also wanna write a tommy fic based off ‘why’d you only call me when your high’ by arctic monkeys for obvious reasons.

masterlist | add yourself to the taglist! | faq

Tommy Shelby could count the number of people who’s seen him high as a kite on opium with three fingers. Arthur was the first; he drukenly stumbled into Tommy’s room instead of his own one night and the smell of the pipe sobered him enough to start asking questions. Tommy shoved him out and by the morning, Arthur was too hungover to remember a thing. The next was Polly; Tommy stumbled down the stairs as he was high around three in the morning once as he searched the house for more booze. Polly watched from a distance as he sat himself on the kitchen table and wept, squeezing his eyes shut and covering his ears with his hands. She chose not to mention it the following morning, but a perscription for morphine found its way to Tommy’s desk a few days later.

The third person... was you.

You didn’t know the Shelby’s personally. You were the assistant of a local Small Heath accountant that dealt with Birmingham’s most infamous clients: local coppers, factory owners, politicians, even gangsters. Your boss was known as the Devil’s Safe—nothing that came in went ot without the client’s consent.

But you weren’t a saint. Being so close to his office at all times and knowing far too much about where the most influential people in Birmingham got their money and where they spent it, it was nearly impossible to keep your mouth shut.

So, you didn’t. At a price, of course.

You quit your job and created a small network of spies that could feed you information about anyone or anything at anytime, using your knowledge about the Devil’s Safe as leverge. You charged whoever could afford for your services, coppers and criminals alike. Some self-righteous copper tried to shut you down once. Keyword: tried. There were too many spies all over the city to try to arrest (that is, if he could find grounds to arrest them), and you were too important to too many important people that arresting you would likely have him assasinated.

That, and you tipped him off about a corrupt police captain who had been trading orphans for cash. It got him a promotion and you a protective shield over your dealings from the coppers.

Tommy first met you at the races. You were hanging off the arm of Roberts, Billy Kimber’s advisor, and he briefly caught your eye before returning his gaze to Grace who stared at him lovingly. He didn’t know it then, but you were analyzing him. His posture, his facial expressions, how he spoke to Kimber, and most importantly, his books that Roberts happened to have a copy of. Nothing went unnoticed by you. The Shelby’s were starting to cause ruckus all over the city and you were interested. But, to maintain your facade, you snuck a few kisses to Roberts’ neck to distract him from your snooping.

When Tommy returned to the table with the bag of cash his brothers had collected from the Lees, you were gone.

---

The second time he sees you, he isn’t even sure if it’s you.

It’s late at night as he approaches The Garrison when he notices Polly standing with another figure in the alley. He slows his steps and silences his breathing, trying to catch the end of your conversation.

“You’re sure this is where she is?” That’s unmistakingly Polly’s voice.

A soft chuckle rips through the air and Tommy suddenly wonders what your voice sound like. “There’s only so many women carrying a newborn and looking that terrified of what may be behind her,” the other voice says. It’s not soft or angelic, Tommy notices. Nothing likes Grace’s. It’s deeper, smoother, and he can almost hear the smirk in her voice.

“How do I know you’re not lying to me?” Polly asks back skeptically. Tommy has the common sense to realize she’s talking about Ada who had gone into hiding after Freddie was arrested. Polly hadn’t been able to stay in the same room as him for very long since.

You pull out another envelope from your coat and teasingly dangle it in front of her. “Here’s the list of all of Ada and Freddie’s known addresses. The Communists have them move every few weeks; the address I gave you is Ada’s current address. Go there tomorrow from seven to nine in the morning. Ada’ll still be in bed and Karl will still be asleep. Then, you’ll know I’m right, you’ll give me the full payment, and I’ll give you the rest of the addresses.”

Tommy is slightly stunned at what he’s hearing. They had been trying to look for Ada for nearly two weeks to no avail, but this woman was able to find her that easily?

The woman turns to walk away before Polly can respond and in the street light, Tommy can make out the outline of your face. It was so brief that he couldn’t tell if you were actually there or if he imagined your face in the darkness.

Polly doesn’t notice him as she makes her way back inside the pub. The following afternoon, Polly is pounding on his office door saying she’s found where Ada had been hiding.

---

The third time he sees you, he’s sitting in the empty Garrison with a bullet wound in his shoulder, whiskey coursing through his veins, enough meloncholy and anger to swim in, and a broken heart.

Billy Kimber was dead. Campbell was gone. But, so was Grace.

It was a series of emotions he hadn’t felt in a long time: relief, then anger, then happiness, then frustration. Then the shovels started. Then, it all got too loud and he slipped his opium pipe into his coat pocket before going to The Garrison to drink his sorrows away. He had never taken the pipe out of his room before. In that state, he didn’t care.

He doesn’t really know how you got in; he had angrily yelled at everyone to leave the bar when the night was late enough for him to feel emotion and locked the door behind him. Maybe I didn’t lock the door right, he thinks. In reality, you had picked the lock.

“I could’ve told you she’d been working with him,” your voice calls behind him. He’s still hunched over his drink, the pipe lying next to a nearly empty bottle of whiskey. He didn’t need her to clarify who she was talking about.

“You could’ve, eh?” Tommy mumbles dangerously. He felt light, but his eyes and his heart felt heavy. He hated the feeling. Oh god, he hated it.

“Hmm,” you hum back, taking a seat next to him. You reach behind the bar and pull out a bottle of gin and poor yourself a drink. Tommy watches you do so. You don’t look like you pity him, in fact, you don’t even look at him. Instead, you focus your attention on the drink.

After taking a sip, you reach into your coat jacket and pull out an envelope, slidding it over to Tommy. You had clearly seen the opium pipe that still had smoke coming out of it, but you gently pushed it out of the way so the envelope rested in front of Tommy’s drink.

“What is this?” he asks, still too high to think straight.

“Consider it a resume,” you quip back, taking another sip of your drink as you study the collection of liquor and spirits on the back shelf of the bar.

“For what?”

“My services.”

“You a fuckin’ whore? You think that’s what I need right now, eh?”

“What I think you need right now, Mr. Shelby, is a sense of security. To be ahead of the enemy. I can give that to you,” you reply smoothly, barely flinching. Tommy notices your voice doesn’t falter even at his jab. He begins to sober up, finaling looking at you.

You had an air of mystery and intrigue. Your eyes looked all-knowing and the corner of your lip was quirked. A white blouse was tucked into a deep red skirt with your black wool jacket overtop of it all. If he was a different man, he surely would have taken you home.

“Why are you telling me this?” he finally asks.

You look back at him, the smirk on your lips growing. “Because I quite like your family. Polly is quite intelligent and Ada is a delight. I also know far too much about you, so it’d be a shame if someone paid be good money to tell them everything there is to know about you. But if you came to me first, there wouldn’t be much of an issue. The rate for ratting out one of my clients is ridiculously high.”

So, it had been you with Polly that night, he thinks. “You’d work for me?” he asks again, tone getting more serious. The last time a woman worked for him, it didn’t end particularly well.

You laugh and Tommy is momentarily stunned. It’s a beautiful laugh that appeared in an awful moment. “I don’t work for anyone, Mr. Shelby.”

And then you left. Tommy stares a the door for a few minutes after you’ve left, wondering if he had imagined your visit the whole time. When he turns back to his drink, the envelope you left behind is a sign that you had been real. He hesitantly opens it and his jaw unhinges at the contents inside: there were several documents, reports, and even pictures tying Grace Burgess and Inspector Campbell together. It seemed so plain and simple once it was laid out in front of him.

Under the flap of the envelope was an address as well as a rate of service. It was high, Tommy couldn’t deny it, but he also couldn’t deny how the pressure on his chest eased for a moment when he was with you. Even more so when you had left the address.

The next morning, a wad of cash from Shelby Company Limited shows up at one of your drop locations. It’s more than you asked for and quicker than you expected it to come. You smirk softly and get to work.

---

Tommy doesn’t see you again until he pays a visit to Sabini’s club a few years later as he works on his London expansion. He had been a client of yours for nearly two years now and he was continuosly impressed with your work. You literally had eyes everywhere; there wasn’t a place between Manchester and Brighton that you couldn’t get to. You had been the one feeding him inside information about Sabini’s operations in London, as well as how to get Alfie Solomon’s attention.

Despite all this work, he hasn’t seen you since you approached him when he was high in the empty pub. He gets all his information through courriers, telephone calls from messengers, and packages from drop locations all over the city. He asked a courrier once why he hasn’t seen you since.

“No one really sees her, sir. We just get orders in one way or another, we excecute them, and then money shows up. She doesn’t want anyone to tie her to her clients or the boots on the ground.”

“She’s clever.”

“She’s bloody brilliant, is what she is. She’s set up this system so bloody tight that no one really knows how it works except her. One lad up in Coventry tried to turn her in. Went missing a few days later.”

He doesn’t think about you often, but when he does, he’s reminded of that night in The Garrison; how mysterious and beautiful and dangerous you looked, how his chest seemed less tight with you around. Maybe he’s imagined it. Maybe it was the opium clouding his vision. So, he pushes those thoughts away because as far as he’s concerned, you’re an enigma.  Hell, he doesn’t even know your name and he’s been paying you big money and giving away too much of his plans.

But he sees you that night when he and his brothers storm Sabini’s club. You’re sitting on a fancy velvet lounging chair, tucked under the arm of what Tommy assumes is a wealthy banker or socialite. You don’t see him (not yet, at least) but Tommy sees you. All Tommy sees is you. The smoke that flows out of your nostrils as your lips curl at whatever attempt at humour then man with you made draws Tommy in. So does the cut of your deep blue, satin dress. He knows it then, that you’re real. That you’re not a figment of his imagination.

“This place is something else, innit?” Arthur remarks as they make their way deeper and deeper into the club. Tommy is still drawn to you as his brothers gawk at the permiscuous behaviour around them.

The party atmosphere doesn’t last long however, as the boys make a show out of trashing the place. Tommy makes sure to put on a performance, to play up the fear. When he shouts something along the lines of being on a holiday, he happens to catch your eye and the first thing he notices is the smirk playing on your lips. He’s first confused as to why but he understands: you had a large part of the London expansion and you also likely knew that Tommy was going to be there that night. You weren’t there with a man. You were there to see him. You were there to see his reckoning.

The image of you tattooed itself onto Tommy’s brain and the feeling he felt in his chest was something he craved to feel again.

---

The next morning, the brothers stumble into Ada’s home, uninvited. Their younger sister begrudgingly lets them in, still clad in her nightgown, and hastily tells them to keep their noise level down as Karl was still sleeping.

It doesn’t last very long.

“You shoulda seen their bloody faces, Ades!” John hollers, mouth full of biscuits and tea. Ada hisses at him for spewing food across the table.

“Didn’t know what was coming, the lot of them,” Arthur adds, already taking a sip from a flask. He was barely sober from the night before and it wasn’t even eight in the morning. “Fuckin’ Sabini, Ada. He won’t know what’s bloody comin’.”

“Sabini, eh?” Ada plays along, still slightly annoyed but now intriguied. “You didn’t happen to hit up his club last night, did you?”

“’Course we did!” John snickers. “What’d you think we’d do, start small?”

Ada’s facial expression suddenly changes into one of slightly more concern. Arthur and John don’t notice, but Tommy does. “I was hopin’ you would,” Ada plays it off but Tommy notices.

“Ada?” he asks, voice stern but eyes curious. His sister was intelligent, so much so that her mouth was as good at getting her out of trouble as it was getting her in it. Tommy was sure that there was more than what she let on.

“Tom?” Ada says back, not meeting his gaze and instead taking a bite out her toast and jam.

“Why’re you so hung up on Sabini’s club?” Tommy asks  directly, slowly getting tired of his sister’s semantics. He mommentarily understands how Polly feels when he keeps things from her.

Ada sighs, having also attracted attention from her two other brothers. She sets down her toast and looks directly at Tommy. “You saw her, didn’t you?”

“Saw who?” Arthur asks, booming voice too loud for the sudden change of tone in the room. Ada grimaces but still stares at Tommy.

Tommy knows exactly who she’s talking about. But he wonders how Ada does.

“I did,” he says simply.

“Who’re you talkin’ about?” John asks next, looking between his siblings. Arthur shrugs at him.

“Did you say anything to her?”

“No.”

“Good,” Ada says too quickly. Tommy narrows his eyes at her.

“For God’s sake!” Arthur says again, slamming his tea cup back down onto the table. “Who in the bloody hell are you talkin’ about?”

Ada rolls her eyes and continues eating and Tommy is left to stare at his brothers. He wants to answer. He wants to answer so badly. But he doens’t even know her name.

“I—” Tommy trails off. He’s rarely rendered speechless, but he is when it comes to you. Who were you? Why did Ada know you? Why can’t he get you out of his head? Why does he hope you’re standing there in the shadows every time he steps out on the street?

“You? You what, Tom?” John asks this time, equally as exasperated.

“He doesn’t know and it should stay that way,” Ada says simply. “She offers you a service, you pay her, end of transaction. Stay away from her Tommy, I mean it.”

“What service?” John asks again, still getting more questions than answers.

Tommy sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “After Grace, she offered me a service. Cash in exchange for information. Said she knew that I needed a sense of security.” She was right, Tommy thinks but doesn’t dare say.

“Information about what, exactly?” Arthur asks, voice dropping an octave as he leans forward.

“Everything. Anything and everything. She knows everything. I don’t have the slightest clue how,” Tommy answers honestly, his own disbelief being obvious for the first time.

“She can betray us...” John warns, skeptical especially after Grace.

“She won’t,” Ada says simply.

“How do you know?” John challenges.

“She won’t,” Ada reaffirms with a glint in her eye. John immediatley backs down. Ada doens’t trust easily, especially after Freddie.

Tommy believes her. You know too much, far too much. More than he or you had bargained for. You also gave too much. Tommy asked for one thing, you gave him what he wanted and more. Tommy wanted a brief description of the shipping business in Bristol, you gave him an itemized list. Tommy asked you to keep an eye out for any potential threats, you gave him incredibly precise weekly reports. He asked people what your service was like as if he didn’t already know himself: you were never this thorough. He knew you wouldn’t betray him because you would have done it already. The question is, why did Ada trust her?

“You know who she is, don’t you?” Tommy asks his sister once again, doing his best to intimidate her. It’s no use.

“I do,” Ada says simply.

“Even her name?”

John scoffs. “You don’t even know her bloody name and you’ve got that look like you’re in love? Jesus, Tom! You need a good fuckin’, I’m telling you.”

Ada ignores her brother’s comment. “Even her name.”

Tommy gestures for her to elaborate and Ada hesitantly continues, “Polly paid her to find me after Karl was born. She found me personally, not through a messenger. We got along quite well, she was very honest about what she’d been hired to do. She gave Polly that information she was looking for, but we kept in touch. Personally, I mean. I like her.”

“Tell me her name, Ada.”

Ada makes a face of fake appeasement. “Can’t do that, sorry Tom.”

Tommy’s jaw clenches. “Ada...” he warns.

Ada’s glare mathces his own. “Her identity is all she’s got Tommy. The minute a client knows who she is, it all falls apart. For the love of God, for your safety and hers, don’t find her.”

And hell, does Tommy want not to listen. He wants to find you again. To see you. To speak to you. To learn your name. To feel the weight in his chest lighten once more.

But you remained impossible to find. Even with his London expansion, he wasn’t any closer to finding out who you really were than the day you first spoke to him at The Garrison.

So, he tried to push his thoughts away. He didn’t get so lucky.

---

He was used to receiving messages from you on Sunday evenings before the week began and Thursday mornings before the week ended. Sometimes, they’d be in the form of a phone call from a messnger reading a message written by you. Other times, he would visit a drop site where he picked up parcels of information and evidence you had collected. Fridays were paydays, so he’d get a Blinder to drop a parcel of cash (though they never knew it was cash) at a drop site and wait for a courrier with a blue ribbon pinned under the lapel of their overcoat to retrieve it.

All your foot solidiers and clients wore the ribbons. You avoided paper trails so everything was with symbols. Ribbon colours were a discrete way for both the client and the courrier to tell who was who. Clients wore white ribbons, courriers wore blue ones, messengers wore green ones, and red ones were used for emergencies.

That’s why Tommy panicked when a man burst into his office late at night the day before he was set to take down Sabini, urgently lifting his lapel to show his red ribbon.

“What’s happened? Are we in danger?” Tommy asks immediatley, standing up from his chair.

“No, sir,” the foot soldier said. They were never allowed to say the names of clients, only sir and ma���am. “I have a message from her. It was urgent and couldn’t have waited until Thursday.”

The man gives him a sealed envelope before bowing and leaving as quickly as he came. Tommy checks to make sure that he is alone before ripping it open. It wasn’t a message, but a phone number and the word clairvoyant scribbled quickly with fancy ink.

Tommy furrows his eyebrows but picks up his phone and dials the operator. The other end picks up immediately. He hastily says the number he wants to be patched through to as well as the word scribbled below it. The operator says nothing else and he hears the phone ring again before a female voice finally picks up.

“Mr. Shelby, I was waiting for your call.”

It was you. Tommy’s heartbeat quickens. You continue to speak, oblivious to his shock, “I don’t make calls myself unless absolutely neccassary. You don’t need to worry about privacy; I have connections with the operating center that patched you through. They won’t say a word to anyone, telling them that you called and they won’t be listening.”

Truthfully, Tommy hadn’t even been thinking of that. He was still slightly shocked that he was hearing your voice, the same voice as nealry three years ago. The opium fucked with a lot of things, but not his sense perception. Your voice was as beautiful as he remembered it to be.

He forces the thoughts out of his head and finally speaks. “What’s happened? Is there an emergency?”

“You aren’t safe at the races tomorrow. There will be an attempt on your life.”

Tommy is not entirely surprised. “I’m sure you can put two and two together; what I plan to do at the races is practically a suicide mission, dear. Of course there’ll be an attempt on my life.”

You scoff at the other end of the line. “Mr. Shelby, I’ll rephrase: you may succeed in your plan tomorrow, but something will catch you off-guard. Something big.”

“What is it, then? If you’re so sure,” Tommy challenges, but is taken aback by the silence.

You sigh, defeated at the other end of the line. “Mr. Shelby, I’ll be honest. An Inspector Campbell approached me this morning, asking for my services to give him everything I knew about you plans tomorrow. I took his money.”

Tommy’s jaw clenches. “You called me to tell me you’re a fuckin’ conspirator against me now, eh?”

“I resent that. There’s a reason I ask you not to tell me anything about your business aside from what I need to know to do my job,” you snap back. “Campbell gave me money to tell him information I didn’t have. So, I took the money and told him lies. He didn’t pay enough money to turn me against one of clients anyway and I don’t negotiate.”

Tommy laughs in slight disbelief, “You clever bloody woman.”

You can’t help but grin at the other end of the line. “He let it slip that he had something planned, though. That you weren’t getting out of this alive. Thomas, I don’t know what and I don’t have enough time to find out, but you needed to know,” you say before soflty adding, “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t tell you.”

Tommy nods solemnly before saying, “That’s the first time you’ve called me Thomas.”

You laugh and Tommy’s heart clenches at the sound. “Is that what you choose to focus on?” you ask, amused despite your worry.

“I’m not afraid of death. Not anymore,” Tommy answers.

“It’s a shame. There seems to be a lot in your life that’s worth living for,” you reply, your voice softer that Tommy’s ever heard it.

“Will you do me one final favour? Take it as my dying wish.”

“Thomas—” you start before he cuts you off.

“Can you tell me your name?” he finally asks, but he’s met with silence. He clears his throat and adds, “Please?”

You sigh at the other end. This is not how you were supposed to conduct business. Anonymity was the only thing keeping you from being excecuted at the hands of the Crown or a crime-boss. But here the feared Thomas Shelby was, asking as his dying wish to know your name. You don’t know him aside from your brief interactions and stories from Ada. But strangely, you trust him with the key keeping your identity safe.

“Y/N. My name’s Y/N.”

---

The following evening, Tommy trudges home covered in mud and blood. His encounter with the face of death was anticipated, but still left him scarred. Despite his success against the races and against Sabini, he felt trapped. With a success in the business, he still finds himself indebted to Winston Churchill. He’s exhaused of this cycle and in the moment, he embraced his fate just a little.

As he pushed the door to his home open, his eyes are immediately drawn to crackling fire. He hadn’t expected anyone to be home, as the family was staying in London with Ada to celebrate their successes.

So the sight of you, sitting on his couch and staring into the fire shocked the life back through him.

He takes of his hat and stares at you in slight disbelief. “So, you’re real.”

You turn to face him and the tension previously present in your features fell and the corner of your lip quirked upwards. “You’re alive,” you state the obvious.

“The Devil’s tried too many time to kill me, I’m starting to wonder if God does exist,” he says plainly, taking off his coat and taking a seat on the other end of the couch from you.

A small laugh escapes you. “He has jokes, does he?”

Tommy smiles softly but shakes his head and stares at you. “You’re really real. I was starting to think I was imagin’ ya.”

“Ada says you’ve been asking about me.”

“I have. She wouldn’t tell me your name, though.”

“You got it anyway.”

“Who’s to deny a man his dying wish?” Tommy darkly jokes again.

“I can’t go back to operating how things were. Even you knowing my name is too much,” you say softly, turning back to the fire. You were slightly frustrated with yourself. Years and years of building a network built around your anonymity destroyed by one man. Deep down, you felt that it was time.

“I wouldn’t tell anyone,” Tommy says simply.

“But you’d want to be in my life,” you say back, still not looking away from the fire. “I’m a woman, but I’m not stupid. I know why you tried to look for me.”

Tommy sits back and watches her. A woman’s never been more direct with him before. Even Grace, who had just asked him to lay with her one final time before moving back to America at the races, had never laid out what she saw so simply and bluntly before. She was right. Tommy wouldn’t tell anyone your name if you asked him to, but he would still want to see you. The only thing more painful than not knowing who you were was knowing and still not being able to see you.

“You could start again,” Tommy says. He barely recongizes the softness in his own tone, but he decides the change is good. “You could work for me, have your men join the Blinders if they wanted.”

“I don’t work for anyone, Mr. Shelby,” you say again cheekily, reminding him of the first time the two of you spoke. You turn to face him and stop to admire his beauty—how the fire cast beautiful shadows across his face, how the moonlight sparkled in his eyes.

“That you don’t,” Tommy hums in agreement, still looking at you. His gaze hadn’t left you since he came home.

It’s silent for a few moments before Tommy says, “Stay.”

“With you?” you ask in slight surprise.

“With me, in Small Heath, with the company—whatever you want. Just stay.”

“You barely know me.”

“Then let me get to know you, Y/N,” Tommy answers, finally saying your name for the first time. He loves the way it spills off his tongue and you equally adore the sound of his voice when he says it.

You nod softly, agreeing with his hearfealt proposition. The two of you spent the rest of the night staring into the fire, allowing your heartbeats and breaths come into sync as you slowly fell asleep.

---

It’s been five years since you had started working for Shelby Company Limited as Tommy’s senior advisor and security specialist, four years since your network of spies had merged with the Peaky Blinders, three years since you and Tommy got married, two years since you gave birth to a set of twins named Benjamin and Mae Shelby, and one year since you had also become a political advisor to your husband and his allies in Parliament.

With your years together, the Shelby family found you to be an intriguing, fascinating, and intimidatingly wonderful woman. They couldn’t comprehend how right you seemed with Tommy. They also couldn’t comprehend how involved you were in their success without them even knowing who you were. However, they love to poke fun at Tommy for basically falling in love with from two interactions.

You were currently at the Arrow House doing the final touch-ups to your makeup for the gala you were hosting in your home. It was a typical charity ball that made sleezy politicians look good in the eyes of their constituants, but you had pressured Tommy to allow you to host it on behalf of the Shelby Family Institute. He had been skeptical, but relented when you reminded him that it wasn’t about giving them a platform to look good, but using their ego to benefit the institute.

“I’ve put the children to bed,” Polly announces as she walks into the master bedroom. The room is obscenely large with a king sized bed in the middle, but Polly can’t help but feel pride every time she visits. It was the both of your hardwork that you got you here and she was proud. “Ben passed out almost immediatley, but you’re right about Mae. She’s a trouble maker.” 

You give Polly a smile through the mirror of the vanity you sat in front of, “Thank you, Pol. Really.”

“Where’s that bastard husband of yours?” Polly jokes as she stands behind you, inspecting her pearls in the mirror.

“His study, no doubt,” you joke with a slight smirk.

“The faith the two of you have in my is astounding,” Tommy says sarcastically, immerging through the en-suite dressed in his tuxedo.

Polly rolls her eyes and leaves the room, leaving the couple to stare at each other.

“You clean up well, Mr. Shelby,” you state, smiling as he approaches you. “Though I’m not sure if that’s because of you or your OBE.”

“Sometimes, I wonder if I should have continued loving you at a distance,” he comments humourously.

You laugh—a real laugh—and wrap your hands around his neck while his arms immediately find themselves around your waist.

“How’re you feeling, darling?” Tommy asks, referring to the mental and emotional preparation for the event that was about to start downstairs.

“I’m not the biggest fan of a lot of your colleagues, Tom,” you say honestly. “Their wives however...they give me thousands of pounds worth of information every sentence.”

“You never cease to amaze me with that mind of yours,” he tells you honestly.

“And you never cease to amaze me with how verbally affectionate you can be,” you quip back lightheartedly before Tommy softly kisses your lips.

“How ‘bout this?” he says once you pull away. “I take care of getting donations, you take care of getting more leverage on the labour bill I’m looking to pass.”

“Done,” you say with a smile before Tommy kisses you again. You begin to hear cars pull into the driveway when you try to pull away, but he keeps you close.

“Tom,” you giggle, breathless. “Tom, the guests are arriving.”

“I’ve waited for you for years, they can wait for you a little while longer,” he replies with a smirk before kissing you deeply once again.

[elytrafemme]

Now we move onto cstubbo! Who will be faster to analyze because ive already established some things here.

hes deffo an introvert! Like i feel like this is the easiest of all aspects to assign due to the simple nature of introvert v extrovert. While i do feel like many people lie in the middle between the two, when it comes down to it there is a scale and most people are on either side even if barely. 

Anyway cstubbo introvert.

Next is intuitive v observant. I feel like cstubbo might fall more into observant here. People who are observant prefer things to have one clear message rather than an abstract one, and they are very focused on the present. They are practical and deal with what is right in front of them. They value simplicity.

Okay and then comes the aspect i despise assigning the most. Like what makes someone thinking or feeling when everyone is such a mixture of the two?! Alas i carry on!i am going to be very topical with this one for the sake of my sanity. thinking individuals are associated with using the scientific process on every day life. What does that mean? Im not really sure! However at the end of the day tubbo=science. 

Okay ill think about it more. Those with the thinking trait are less likely to as others for help or opinions on their own problems. They find a discomfort in emotions and often will override their own emotions to have a more rational response or opinion. And yea i think thats pretty cstubbo!

Now comes the tactics aspect which is even more broad, but yea. This one is hard because the actual test doesnt take into account anything like idk adhd which would make it hard to focus on things. However someone with adhd isnt automatically someone with the prospecting trait. But thats just one of the many flaws of the system and im trying my best to work around that.

To be honest i think cstubbo might be more judging and here i have a reason. Throughout tubbos story arc we see him struggling to cope with the changes going on in his life, which are all valid things to struggle with. However he refers back to how he wish he was back in the weird little routine he had before. Or maybe im imagining things idk.

Anyway for that reason i think he has the judging trait. While he deals well with smaller changes or does good with being spontaneous on a small scale, those are all things that he mentally planned anyway. Like he mentally planned out how he was going to skip class to hang out with ranboo despite the action seeming spontaneous in nature.

Okay i realize i should have given reasons for literally every other decision before now but that would double the length of this and im too tired to do that. Sorry but youyfgsdyghkfdyugbksdfuygtkrueygt ya know?

OKAY SO cstubo ISTJ and then also turbulent because, well, stressed. 

Now lets take a look at the ISTJ description. Here they are called Logicians (on 16personalitys.com) but ima just say ISTJ

They are reserved and willful. They commit to what they do and have high integrity. They are committed to staying rational and grounded in order to keep up their practicality. Even in stressful situations. They respect structure and often find that there is only one way to do things. They are quick to own up to their mistakes.

ISTJ often holds other people to high standards and can be quick to judge. Theyre the kind of person to do a group project by themself because they want it done right.

strengths: honest, direct, strong-willed, dutiful, responsible, calm and practical, create and enforce order, jack of all trades

weaknesses: stubborn, insensitive, lives life by the book, judgemental, blames themselves

this website says that ISTJ enforces conservative values like who the hell thinks political standing is determined by a literal personality trait???? i dispise the romance section of each personality. and yea the whole *this personality is usually conservative with traditional beliefs* was in the romance section.

in friendships they are very loyal but they struggle with expressing emotions. they don’t like conflict and avoid it when possible. it’s common for a ISTJ to have an intuitive (N) person in their close friend group.

turbulent ISTJ need consistency for stability in their life however they often don’t know what they want. 

okay i think this description fits cstubbo better than the first description fit csranboo. so let’s look at another description!

Truity described ISTJ as,”responsible organizers, driven to create and enforce order within systems and institutions. They are neat and orderly, inside and out, and tend to have a procedure for everything they do.”

this description feels like it fits even less, but no matter! to get more results!! i’m going to take the same quiz as before but this time answering as cstubbo! which is actually really fun, i highly suggest taking personality quizzes as a fictional character! it’s a joy

interesting enough the result was ISTP! Truity had this to say,”As an ISTP, you are curious about the mechanics of the world around you and have a unique ability to manipulate the tools in your environment. You tend to study how things work and often achieve mastery in the use and operation of machines, instruments, and equipment. You seek understanding, but in a practical sense: you like to be able to put your technical knowledge to immediate use and are quickly bored by theory.

You are attentive to details and responsive to the demands of the world around you. Because of your astute sense of your environment, you are good at moving quickly and responding to emergencies. You are reserved, but not withdrawn: you enjoy taking action, and approach the world with a keen appreciation for the physical and sensory experiences it has to offer.

You tend to be detached and prefer the logic of mechanical things to the complexity of human emotions. Independent and reserved, you treasure your personal space, and want to be free to be spontaneous and follow your own lead. You are selective about your relationships, and appreciate others who allow you plenty of freedom to do your own thing.”

I think this, if anything, is very c!tubbo. Not sure about cstubbo though. I guess theyre the same though! I am still stubborn about cstubbo having the judging trait, and i’d even argue so does c!tubbo. Like both of them like spontaneous things they control, change that they individually control. But in the end both tubs are still thinking and planning in everything they do. Either that or I'm projecting again. Am i? I dont think so. Maybe subconsciously?

In conclusion, cstubbo ISTP-T and or ISTJ-T. Personally i like ISTJ more but that's really trivial I guess.

Anyway ima try and cut this short, I hope you enjoyed! I hate the myers briggs system but i will shove things into it to spite myself! Peace and love 

(3/3)

yeah cs!tubbo introvert that one is ez

i would agree with observant too! i think that one is the one i have the hardest time wrapping my head around bc idk if im observant or intuitive myself tbh but i do think he is a lot more like practical with things. he's a bit of a cynic and a lot of his abstract thoughts are actually just a lot of patterns repeating in his head -- a lot of his paranoias are kind of just. analyzing past patterns. so i feel like overall yeah

yeah thinking v feeling with tubbo's character is hard... he's deffo near the middle but i would argue a lean towards thinking as well. he's pretty aware of people's emotions constantly but when he makes decisions they are not really off of his own emotions, if they're irrational its more due to like his preconceived notions about something rather than a spur of the moment thing. so yep agreed on thinking here

truthfully i have no fucking idea what to decide on this last one. because the more i think on it i realize ranboo is WAY more judging like as i ruminate but i get here and i don't really know? on one hand i do agree tubbo has a lot of plans set out, but the thing about him is he's made a lot of moves to have practical plans, but a lot of these plans kind of include him just Figuring Shit Out. his plan to run away in a lot of ways as we see in the earlier chapters kind of just boils down to... i've collected stuff and planned for this but after this. well IDK. so it's kind of hard to say but i will tentatively go with J here

deffo turbulent. man has not the slighest fucking clue what he wants to do with himself

that first description is actually pretty accurate with tubbo! i mean as much as these can fit they're obviously broad and weird. the second one doesn't really fit that much LOL he doesn't necessarily seek out order in life he kind of thrives off of shit going wrong and getting messed up which makes him the exact opposite tbh. so maybe he IS more P than J idk

HM OK I LIKE THAT LAST DESCRIPTION TOO... Goddammit these letters are pissing me OFF okay. because like with his relationships tubbo also does like having relationships where he doesn't feel super tied down in a way? like if he has to make a clean break and run he wants to make sure as minimal as possible people give that much of a fuck. i have no goddmn clue maybe he's a perfect middle who knows

thank u so much for these! know that an owl has been shouting outside my window this entire time which owls usually arent around here so idk why he's here but yeah!

[elsannabackwardsposts]

Ya'll, i couldn't get that recent Anon's "Elsa touching Anna's abs" prompt out of my head. So here ya go, a new Bonus. 😆😆😆😆😆

It had been such a long day. Even if just working once a week, the trip to and from the business center, let alone the actual tasking demands of the Trade Center's daily work, always wore the champion rower thin. A 2k was even less draining I'm some regards. At least this time around they were actually paying her. Surprisingly well for a Temp employee who didn't even meet the criteria for part-timer, and her previous pain in the ass supervisor was now considered an equal level colleague. Small silver linings had to be appreciated.

But today, she'd fielded questions on a tough deal, with her superiors demanding an ungodly amount paperwork be completed by day's end for a huge meeting in the morning. And of course, her astute eye caught the tiniest error the exact minute before the final contract was getting faxed. A missing Oxford comma. So tiny, but if not corrected, left wiggle room for the client to claim additional benefits, likely costing ATC a year's loss of revenue in the long run. Honestly, they didn't pay her enough for the value of her literacy. The battle to get people to stay a little later and fix the mistake, as well as giving a lesson in general grammar, was ridiculously more frustrating than ever needed.

Letting out a tired breath, she finally arrived home and opened the door to her apartment, ready to shower and change into her pajamas. An early night was definitely what she needed.

But standing at the counter, she spotted the familiar flash of brilliant red hair. Her summer roommate was standing in front of her laptop, set up on the kitchen island, spandex leggings and a crop-top tank on, stretching side to side. She had turned her head over her shoulder, tossing a smile and giving a wave to the new arrival before switching back to her activity.

Sliding off her heels, Elsa smiled, assuming the young woman was trying out some YouTube video stretching examples again. The variety on the internet definitely kept the energetic girl's mind active and attentive.

Her initial plan was to walk around and go about her nightly routine, giving the girl some space to finish her activity without interruption. But her gaze was suddenly caught.

The red head had lifted her arms and begun doing an upper body twist; the action, even at her angle, instantly revealing a tight contraction of her exposed midsection; ridges of muscular abdominals visible even along the lateral plane. Elsa's breath held.

Later, she'd think back and account her next actions to the fatigue caused by the long day; lack of energy to restrain herself from her internal urge to reach out and touch the smooth skin; to feel the rolling ripples running down the small curve of the young rower's stomach.

It had been an ever present urge, ever since the very first time she'd laid eyes on the girl's actual physique a lifetime ago.. However with normally so much space between them, incredible mental fortitude, and basic human propriety, she was successfully prevented from ever acting on such lewd thoughts. Oh it had been so hard after she'd gotten to feel the contact for the first time, touching and kissing the beautiful form.

Still, she often kept the thoughts to herself, even nowadays, when such actions were completely legal by the terms of where their relationship stood. Maybe it was because of how long she'd repressed herself, holding back these feelings while her imagination freely conjured the images at will unbeknownst to the other innocent woman; a sense of perversion almost having engrained an association of gulit with it from those times.

Now was totally different. She could do as she wished, of course per Anna's consent, or rather, the other rower's direct request, actually asking for Elsa to try and be more open with physical contact when she felt comfortable. That exact request in mind, with her utter weakness at holding back right now, gave her that boost of confidence she needed.

She stepped up behind the petite rower, cool hands sliding around the warm exposed midsection, fingers slowly stroking the bumps and filing through the smooth divots; left hand tracing the upper area, feeling the connections firmly made to the girl's ribs, while her right deftly slid past her belly-button. The sudden gasp followed by a light hum, and the relaxation of the body under her touch made her feel an overwhelming rush of pleasure. Unable to keep herself hidden behind, needing to see the redhead's undoubtedly blushing and super cute expression, she side stepped forward a little, eyes coming up over Anna's shoulder.

And she froze.

The computer wasn't on YouTube. There was no work out video on the screen. There was no internet video of any sort. Only a familiar peachy face, bright emerald eyes, staring across at her, through her, wide as saucers.

Wh-why.. why was Rapunzel on the screen?!

Her pale face flared, hot, scorching, a devastating forrest fire erupting and spreading down her entire body, turning to a painful steam while she simultaneously broke into a dousing cold sweat. And then, the biggest, most monstrous, shit-eating grin slowly stretched across the brunette's previously shocked face to the point it looked painful.

"Well this is a new development.." she smirked with a glint in her eye.

While Elsa was still left dumbfounded and staring, she barely heard Anna's bashful laugh. "Whatdaya mean?" Her voice was quivering just the slightest, proving neither woman was left unaffected by the spectating. "You know we're together."

The youngest of the group made a 'duh' vocal, lifting her two fingers and pointing through the screen between the two. "No, I mean actually seeing Elsa giving off Top energy."

Top? Like.. oh. Oh..! Oh. My God..

Unable to handle much more of the conversation, the blonde jumped back, hands flying over her heated face.

"I'm going to shower..!" she mumbled in a rush, voice nearly squeaking an Octave higher than normal, hurrying down the hallway. When she heard Anna move to take a step after her, saying her name in concern, Elsa extended her hand in a halting motion behind her. "Alone!"

She had honestly only meant to express how she didn't want to be bothered at the moment, needing time to collect herself, thoughts and way to many circulating emotions needing proper corralling, with no interruptions; Alone. But the ultimate regret of choosing that particular word, at that particular moment, in her stupid lapse of coherent judgement, instantly plowed her over like a semi-truck when she heard a shrill, static cry.

"What does she mean 'Alone'?!"

The bathroom door slamming followed by a groan of mortified defeat seemed to echo in the apartment for days to come.

[matthewtkachuk]

feel something pt 1 - jj

On the outside, you’re a kook princess with a seemingly perfect life and a perfect family. The expectations are suffocating you, to the point where the only thing you feel is numb. You’re chasing different coping mechanisms in order to feel something. Until a chance encounter with a certain blond pogue you know you’re supposed to hate gives rise to a different kind of feeling.

Warnings: angst, toxic behaviour, poor coping mechanisms, drug usage, mentions of sex, mentions of suicidal ideations (brief), Rafe being a grade a asshole, shitty parents

Pairings: JJ x reader (eventually), Rafe x reader (slight), Topper x reader (slight)

Words: 3.1k

A/N: I accidentally deleted this, ugh sorry if you see this again!! I started off wanting to write a supremely angsty one shot, turned into a supremely angsty multi-chapter fic. This is a slow burn, babyy. Here’s the set up, let me know what you think! :)

series masterlist

You stand teetering on the edge of the balcony railing, barefoot and facing the waves as they crash onto the beach. You’re not thinking about jumping. At least you’re pretty sure you won’t actually jump. Really you’re just looking for even a flicker of an emotion to stir up in your chest. Lately you haven’t felt anything more than mild annoyance at your parent’s constant bickering and pestering. You know you’re too young, but all you feel anymore is numb. You lift your left leg, balancing precariously on the right for a minute before lowering it and returning to the balcony and slipping your heels back on.

You don’t want to die, you just don’t want to live like this. Kook princess, paraded and practically pimped around by your parents, looking for you to find an advantageous marriage, have 2.5 kids and further accumulate your hoarded wealth. “Why don’t you date the Cameron boy? He’s quite good looking and your father would love it if you married his business partner’s son” and “The Thornton boy would be a good match, the family mansion is the largest” and “Jacob Kane’s father is a name partner at a successful law firm on the mainland”. Your mother’s incessant nagging about finding the perfect husband only further cements your lack of value as a human being, your usefulness tapped out at your ability to be someone’s wife.

You don’t understand the wealth accumulation thing, your trust fund probably equals the national budget of a small country already, and there’s no way anyone could blow through the entire family fortune in a single generation. At this point, it just feels like generating wealth for the sake of generating it. What good is money if it just sits in a bank account or investment portfolio, earning passive income and not being used for anything.

You recognize you’re very privileged, you’ve never once had to worry about where your next meal would come from, you have a closet full of designer handbags and red bottom shoes the value of which could feed several families on the Cut. But what’s the cost? You feel suffocated by the pressure bestowed upon you by your parents. You’re the eldest sibling, primary heiress to the Y/L/N family fortune and expected future successor of the family business. Truthfully, you couldn’t give less of a fuck about retail development or whatever it is that keeps your father so busy that he missed every single one of your piano and ballet recitals growing up. You like the idea of studying Shakespeare’s sonnets and soliloquies over learning about mergers and acquisitions and tax avoidance laws at college, but you know your father would sooner cut you off than let you pursue your own passions.

Sometimes you let yourself fantasize about leaving it all behind, running off to some college like Columbia, moving to New York and living in the city that never sleeps. With your 4.0 GPA and stellar extracurricular activities, you could probably get a pretty good scholarship. Or maybe Paris, where you would sit in a cute little café flirting with French boys and writing poetry by the Seine River. But it would be hard, and you’re too much of a coward to see if you could make it on your own without daddy’s money. Not to mention the little voice in the back of your head that sounds suspiciously like your mothers telling you that you’ll never amount to anything without their help.

Later, you’re wandering the party, both hands curled tightly around the cup you hold to your lips, eyes staring out at the crowd over the rim. Unfortunately, you catch Rafe Cameron’s eye as he’s sat around the coffee table with a freshly cut white line ready on the surface. He’s surrounded by the idiots he calls friends and more than one pretty little rich girl making eyes at him. The left corner of his mouth turns up in a smirk as he realizes you’ve sized up the company around him.

“Hey Y/L/N, want a line? First one’s on me, babe.” He calls out at you, but you just roll your eyes and keep moving forward. As desperate as you are to feel something, you’re not sure you can cross that line just yet. Partaking in the occasional joint or bong rip is one thing, but hard drugs is another. You don’t think trading in the empty feeling in your chest for an addiction is worth it. Seeing the blown out pupils of some of your peers, and the way they not-so-discreetly sniff and wipe at their noses you realize you’re likely alone in that assessment. “Your loss!” he calls out at your retreating form, and you don’t even bother to look over your shoulder. You know he’s not really interested in you beyond making you a customer and maybe a quick fuck.

You snort to yourself, wondering what your mother would think about the boy she wanted you to pursue offering you a line of coke at a party. Knowing her, she would focus on the fact that you had gained his attention and ignore the illicit substance.

Making your way through the cluster of bodies is harder than you had initially thought, everyone was on everyone. Every kook party ends up this way, a certain subset of the group coked out and the rest so drunk they can’t function, and you begin to wonder why you even bothered coming.

You’re not totally sure what you’re looking for, your best friend and Rafe’s younger sister Sarah doesn’t really associate with this crowd anymore ever since she started spending all her time with the less fortunate side of the island. Rafe had called it ‘slumming with those dirty fucking pogues’ the last time Sarah had partied with you. Maybe it isn’t right to call her your best friend anymore because not only does she not associate with this crowd, she doesn’t really associate with you either.

You know she’s hanging with Kie again, there are a lot of watchful eyes on the island and even more flapping lips. It’s kind of ironic, Sarah was the one who convinced you to drop Kie, and you had let her. Now the two of them were spending all their time together on some dilapidated boat named after the inhabitants of the Cut and you were alone at some lame party with a heavy weight on your chest and under your eyes.

Sighing deeply, you down the rest of the contents of your cup and grab a refill before turning your attention back to the crowd of people in the middle of the living room. As your brain starts to fog further with the familiar feeling four vodka crans give you, you let Topper put his hands on your hips and pull your bodies close together, your back to his front. A voice in the back of your mind wonders if you’re supposed to feel guilt over Sarah’s ex’s hands all over your body, but you don’t feel anything and Sarah clearly doesn’t give a fuck about you either.

The next morning you wake up with Topper’s hands around your bare waist. There’s a pain radiating against your skull and you have cotton mouth, but you quietly gather your clothes and sneak out of the room before the sleeping blonde can wake up and give you that regretful look he gets in his eyes every time you hook up. You know he still loves Sarah, in his own fucked up way and though you don’t regret where you woke up, you know you’ll just be annoyed if you have to deal with his issues this early in the morning with this bad of a hangover.

You’ve almost successfully left the large mansion, quietly walking through the living room to the front door when a voice remarks dryly, “Really, y/n? I thought you were better than my sister’s leftovers.”

Inhaling through your nose and out your mouth sharply, you spin on your heel to face Rafe with a blank expression on your face. He sits at the kitchen island, bare-chested with his hat on backwards, casually eating a bowl of cereal. The thought of why exactly Rafe is sitting half naked in Topper’s kitchen, eating Topper’s cereal briefly flashes through your mind but you decide you don’t care. “What do you care Rafe?” you ask, only half interested in his response. There’s a moment of silence, and you pick at your fingernails rather than meet his gaze.

“I’m just saying, I thought you were better than that,” he shrugs, bringing another spoonful to his mouth.

You roll your eyes, already tired of the conversation, “And who, pray tell, is better for me?”

“Me of course,” he smirks at you, and you huff out an annoyed laugh and raise an eyebrow silently asking him to explain. “Come on princess, I know your parents want you to marry up. ‘m your best option on this island”.

Mildly annoyed, you roll your eyes and turn back towards the front door, eager to leave this conversation behind. “C’mon baby, we both know how this thing ends, with you on my arm as the perfect trophy wife.”

There was a time those words might have brought butterflies in your stomach. Growing up best friends with Sarah meant you also grew up with Rafe, and you used to have the biggest crush on him. Forbidden by Sarah after a late night game of truth or dare, you didn’t use to mind when your mother would spout off about Rafe being the perfect boy for you. He used to look out for you like he did for Sarah. But that was a long time ago, and he no longer cared about either of you anymore and you had to admit you couldn’t remember why you had ever thought him anything but repulsive. That was before the drugs and the untethered rage that always rests just under the surface of his skin, ready to be unleashed at the smallest slight. You might have married the little boy with the gap toothed smile who once punched Jacob Kane when you were in the second grade and he wouldn’t stop bothering you, but this Rafe wasn’t good for anything beyond a quick meeting in the dark.

If you had been able to feel anything, you might have snapped back at him, but you had no energy and honestly all you wanted was to shower in your own shower and collapse in your own bed, so you ignored his comment and slipped out the door.

It was a quick walk back to your house, and you snuck in quietly through the front door hoping no one was home and your dreams of slumbering until the early afternoon could be realized. Unfortunately, your mother sat on the cream colored chaise in the sitting room, clearly anticipating your arrival. Her eyes quickly scanned your appearance, your manolos held by the straps in your right hand, your sex hair and décolletage you were sure was covered in bites and bruises caused by overeager lips, before sighing.

“Y/n, darling, you have to stop this silly behaviour and settle down. Boys aren’t going to want to lock you down if they’ve already had you.” She criticizes, effectively slut-shaming you. You roll your eyes at that, briefly wondering if the old wives tale was true and you’d end up with your eyes stuck like that. You decide you don’t mind, it would save you some time as your base reaction to most interactions is to roll them.

“I had a rough night mom, I’d like to go back to bed,” you tell her as you try to slip past her. A cold hand circles your wrist, stiletto tipped manicure digging slightly into the skin stopping you from moving any further.

“I’m serious, y/n, you’re better than this.” She throws the same words Rafe had at you. Exasperated and exhausted you rip your wrist from her grasp and head to the stairs. “We’re not done talking about this!” she shouts but you ignore her and continue towards your nice shower and bed.

Rolling over to an empty bed several hours later, you grumble as you try to identify the source of your wakeup call. Cursing as you smack your arm against your side table, you finally manage to grab your ringing cell phone. Seeing RC flash as the contact calling, you groan loudly, before hitting the decline button and rolling back over. A minute later your phone chimes again, indicating a voice mail.

You figure there’s no point in drawing out the inevitable, so you unlock the phone and listen the voicemail Rafe left. He’s invited you to hang out with him and his friends on his dad’s yacht. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you’ve sent him a text to say you’d be there in an hour. Despite there being no love lost between you and Rafe, you really don’t have any better options and maybe if you tell your mom who you’re hanging out with she’ll get off your back and not subject you to The Lecture. You and Sarah used to laugh and joke about The Lecture, about how being a Y/L/N means being perfect and obtaining a perfect husband. The two of you would mock your mother, exaggerating her southern drawl that slipped out as she lectured you on the importance of propriety and ‘leaving something to the imagination’.

As you slip on a navy sundress with a deep neckline, you laugh, thinking to yourself that there’s not much left to leave to the imagination. You take the time to curl the ends of your hair to create a bouncy wave and apply a few coats of waterproof mascara and lip gloss. The humid heat of the OBX keeps your makeup routine light in the summer.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” Shit. Your dad’s home, he knows you stayed out all night, and he’s pissed. You don’t think your mom told him the full story, because he’s not frothing at the mouth mad, just his typical disappointed mad.

“Rafe invited a couple of friends to hang out on his dad’s yacht, daddy,” you reply back, not meeting his eyes.

You can tell your dad disapproves, because the lines between his eyebrows are more pronounced with his narrowed eyes. As he starts to give you what you’re sure is an impassioned lecture, your mother pops up out of nowhere, gushing, “Rafe? Well of course you can go sweetie, isn’t that right hon?” she turns to your dad, a single eyebrow raised daring him to defy her. Your parents are the ultimate power couple, wielding power and guilt over each other almost as easily as they try to do to you.

He sighs, realizing the fight with his vengeful wife isn’t worth the lesson you’re not going to learn anyway and nods, “Alright, just be back for supper, we’re going to sit down as a family tonight. And tell Sarah we said hi.”

If either parent noticed your stiffened back, they don’t comment on it. You hadn’t told them that Sarah dumped you like yesterday’s news just yet. Why blow a perfect cover story? Again, the lack of guilt should probably concern you, but you’re more focused on the very expensive, very good quality wine that you know is waiting for you on the Cameron’s yacht.

An hour later, you’re sitting between a very uncomfortable Topper and a disinterested Kelce with a full wineglass in your left hand. Your right hand slides your sunglasses back onto your eyes to shield them from the harsh sunlight that beats down directly on your face.

You can’t find the energy to strike up a conversation with either of them, and they don’t seem very inclined to start one either, so you turn your head to the side and look out at the water until you see a familiar beat up boat approaching. You visibly tense as your eyes lock on your blonde former best friend laughing with her arm around John B as their stupid friends talk and laugh around them. “You okay, y/n?” Kelce finally speaks, noticing your change in posture.

“Never better,” you drily reply moving to turn your head back to the other side of the yacht, as if the other boat on the water didn’t exist at all. Your eyes briefly flicker to the other blond on the boat, taut muscles on display beyond the ratty cut-off tank top as the pogue known as JJ attempts to wrestle with his friend Pope. You feel a drop in your stomach that perplexes you as your eyes scan his sunkissed skin. Startled, you turn your head quickly and take a huge sip of your wine.

You anticipated some sort of confrontation, maybe a thrown insult, but their boat simply eclipsed the yacht and they continued on their way. You were annoyed by the concerned look that Kelce threw your way after they had left, so you downed your glass and grabbed Rafe’s hand and all but dragged him inside the cabin.

The second the door shuts behind you, you’re on him, mouths mashing in a hungry kiss. He smirks against your mouth and leads you into the bathroom and proceeds to rid you of your clothes.

As you’re letting Rafe Cameron fuck you in the bathroom of his yacht, your mind can’t help but think you’re fucking over Sarah, too.

“Fuck baby, you feel so good,” he praises in your ear as he thrusts into you from behind. You don’t even have the energy to fake a moan, you just lean your head back against his shoulder.

When he’s finished, you simply slip your dress back on, refill your glass and sit back between Topper and Kelce as if they didn’t just hear you hook up with their best friend.

You go to bed early that night after a “nice family dinner” that consists of back-handed compliments and your mother fishing for details about your time on the yacht. You don’t think she’d be too pleased about letting Rafe ‘have you’ before ‘locking you down’, so you keep it to a minimum. Both parents drill it into your head that as a Y/L/N, you’re held to a higher standard than your peers. Perfect grades, perfect life, perfect daughter. You don’t know how to tell them you don’t even feel human anymore, so you smile and nod as they pester and nag. Your little sister sits quietly the whole time, looking at you with an emotion you can’t quite decipher.

[amateurasstrologer]

THE PLANETS #3 MERCURY (IN THE HOUSES)

Sweet Mercury. Our baby celestial, dying to be understood. There’s more to little Mercury than meets the eye, so listen up.

If you take only one thing away from this shit, let it be this: Mercury represents an internal process - where Mercury falls points towards where you’re using your brain. Bullshit Astrology will try to convince you that Mercury shows how you communicate and how you express yourself. Yes, but also no. Don’t succumb to this basic ass understanding, people!! Mercury is deeper than this - literally. Mercury gathers up the goods and sets up shop inside your mf brain. Yes, communication and your ability to small talk stem from your thought process, but all that shit is secondary. Stick to the primary source you little history babies.

The best way to think about Mercury is to think about Venus. These two are peas in a damn pod. Why? They’re both judgemental. But. While Venus is your typical mean girl, Mercury just sticks to the fucking facts.

For example, take this given: the sky is blue. Mercury looks at the situation and says: okay, the sky is blue, the sky is not green. Venus looks at the sky and says: I love the color blue, green is fucking ugly good thing the sky isn’t green. They’re both making a judgement call, but Mercury’s call is a purely objective understanding, and Venus’s is based on a personal preference. Mercury sits in your brain and helps you differentiate between this and that; Venus sits wherever tf she sits and helps you respond emotionally to shit that you value.

Put another way: why does Mercury rule Gemini and Virgo? Judgement calls. Gemini is all about you discovering yourself. The Mercury influence there helps you differentiate between “you” and “not you” - Gemini goes out and does all these things to figure out who it even is and Mercury is behind the curtain going, “yes, you hit on something real there,” and “no, that wasn’t really you bitch, drop the act.” Same shit is happening with Virgo. Virgo is all about self-improvement - we need Mercury behind the scenes, making the “yes, this will move us forward” or “no, this will set us back” decision or else we aren’t improving shit. A Mercury judgement is objective - it takes in all the facts and makes a call. It’s not personal, it’s all business.

Mercury represents how we understand the world, mentally. Mercury is the sweet little computer in our brain that’s taking stock and running metrics and not giving a fuck because there are no feelings involved in Mercury’s process. Mercury is black and white, yes and no, this and that. No in-between. The only time Mercury goes from “right on” to “completely wrong,” is when it trades in objective analysis for personal taste. Stop. Leave the feelings to Venus. Mercury works best when it’s calm, cool and collected.

As always, particulars for the party people:

MERCURY IN THE FIRST (1) YES: these sweet freaks are unleashing the beast on their inner life - every thing that has ever happened to them getting analyzed to the point of no return; they believe they’re different than everyone else and they are gonna prove it. NO: one day decided all facts were irrelevant and took up permanent residence inside their own mind, made it their job to feel intellectually superior to everyone else.

MERCURY IN THE SECOND (2) YES: these sweet freaks are testing out every belief system and mental approach ever used to solve a problem, choosing the most effective ones, and thinking their way through every challenge they come into contact with without even breaking a sweat. NO: fucking rude, totally intolerant of everyone around them, deep-throating Traditional Thinking & Outdated Values’ dick for no reason - get over it.

MERCURY IN THE THIRD (3) YES: these sweet freaks are seeing straight though your shit, because they can find patterns in everything. When they’re not fixing every problem in their vicinity with practical solutions they’re adjusting to their environment like a damn chameleon good Lord where are they are they even still here? NO: using their mega-rationality to justify gross behavior, taking zero responsibility for their actions, denial level 10000.

MERCURY IN THE FOURTH (4) YES: these sweet freaks are getting in touch with their values, and once they do look out because they will not deviate from what they feel is Right. These deep, creative minds are hot-wired to find connections between all people, places and things. NO: too scared to figure it out, falling back on thinking that’s culturally/ socially/ religiously narrow-minded, RIP to their sense of self.

MERCURY IN THE FIFTH (5) YES: these sweet freaks are getting their fucking feelings out and everyone is loving it. Their sweet little brains are made to create and they are ready to relate, no one can express themselves like these bitches. It’s just the truth. NO: can’t just have a regular fucking experience because they’re too busy thinking about how they’re gonna sell that shit later, overly self-conscious, stop it you’re doing way too much.

MERCURY IN THE SIXTH (6) YES: these sweet freaks are a whole new kinda leader - their brains are totally focused on dealing with personal changes and social issues, crystal clear thinking let’s these babies soar through emotional shit with clarity and an organized plan. NO: True Life: Living Without A Backbone, self-sabotage level 10000, lacking the inner-strength to look at their shit objectively - get it together dammit you should be fixing the world.

MERCURY IN THE SEVENTH (7) YES: these sweet freaks just have a really strong mental approach to life, they’re lookin at all kinds of shit without getting in their feelings about it, they’re out here chatting it up, down to participate in life and always open to learning from other people’s experiences. NO: took it way too far, fucked around and isolated themselves in a sweet mind prison, one day decided different viewpoints were useless and totally lost sight of reality.

MERCURY IN THE EIGHTH (8) YES: these sweet freaks fucking love relationships (of any kind, don’t have to be human-to-human) - their brains are locked in on seeing past surface level shit and into the core of their connections, working through relationship issues is their favorite pastime. NO: one day decided you weren’t trying to cooperate with them and got fucking ruthless on your ass and/or completely lack the sense of self to apply their resolution abilities, let everything go to shit, then blamed you for it.

MERCURY IN THE NINTH (9) YES: these sweet freaks worship clear thinking and objectivity, they’re fucking ready to plan and discuss their goals, your goals - all the goals all of the plans all of the values - these bitches are going to write about them, sing about them, whatever. It’s going to be real and it’s going to be good. NO: the most closed-minded to ever live, picked the wrong hill to die on, bleeding out over some shit they don’t even understand, lost in the sauce.

MERCURY IN THE TENTH (10) YES: these sweet freaks can focus (I mean, for real, they will not be deterred) and focus they will on solving complex social problems and adjusting to meet the intellectual needs of their crew. These babies are quick as a whip and got serious intellectual versatility. NO: second-guessing every decision they’ve ever made, zero accountability for their social position, completely emotionally repressed mess. 

MERCURY IN THE ELEVENTH (11) YES: these sweet freaks got intellect and they are not afraid to use it (to work through all kinds of cultural issues), on the look out for other smarties to check out all those beautiful, imaginary-but-hopefully-not-for-long horizons and ponder progressive ideals with. NO: never focused a day in their life, acting clever laughing everything off but actually dying inside and refusing to do anything about it.

MERCURY IN THE TWELFTH (12) YES: these sweet freaks are flipping the script and revamping every outdated collective ideal that crosses their mind - a healthy level of seclusion let’s these babies speculate way out into the future, so that they can formulate fresh social attitudes and actions. NO: Academy Award for Victim of Their Own Self-Created Loneliness, "what’s the use” oh my God shut up already and just try to change. Just try it.

Happy Charting, bitches. Unleash your brains.

XO BULLSHIT FREE ASTROLOGY

[pokemon-ninjago-world]

Headcanon/Pokéninjago version of Lloyd’s identity crisis during season 5 of Ninjago

Got ab 12 likes on the announcement post so here we are: This is an essay-sorta-thing about something I thought and wrote some six years ago. It’s been so long since I wrote this I feel cringy reading it, but it’s tenable in Pokéninjago lore. It’s kind of a mix between my headcanon for the show, and canon of my AU, which is why there is mentions of “evolving” and Pokémon types.

Things to take into account:

Idk if there should be content warnings, but depression mention at least. Otherwise, this is pretty much as intense as season 5 went, just a little more angsty I suppose.

I must say that my version of Lloyd and his identity crisis were inspired by a certain artist’s version of him and by a comic they made about the Child’s Play episode’s aftermath. I don’t dare name the artist, since they don’t wish to be linked with the Ninjago fandom anymore, but some of you might know who I’m referring to. 

I do not know how psychology stuff actually works, all of this was made on grounds of a couple of high school psychology courses and a lot of imagination `:D

I wrote this originally in Finnish and let Word translate it, so this might be v clumsy at points.

Most of the text is under the cut!

                                                  ~***~

When Lloyd was just a small cub, closer to three years, his mother had left him in his father's care. Misako knew the boy would become the Green Ninja and Garmadon would become the Dark Lord. That is why she went looking for any ancient knowledge to avoid the final confrontation. Although her heart was torn since she had to leave her loved ones, she knew that she couldn’t just sit on her hands, and that perhaps she was the only one that could prevent the decisive battle between good and evil. It was also her wish that the father and the son could spend as much time together as possible. Thus, Lloyd's earliest childhood memories are about his father, and his recollections of his mother are blurry, obscure, and fading away as he grows up, or mixing with other memories.

            Dad meant everything to little Lloyd. Although they lived in the same monastery with Lloyd’s uncle as well, whom he also liked, his own father was still the greatest. Garmadon also loved his child deeply and wanted him to have a happy life. Although the poison in his veins was starting to get a hold of him and he was increasingly drawn to the Golden Weapons, his love for Lloyd and the desire to be with him in anticipation of Misako's return kept him away from them for much longer than if the boy had never existed.

                    When Lloyd "evolved," he lost some important years of his life, during which a youngster usually developes a picture of himself and his changing body. Lloyd's body changed in a single moment and even though his mind also changed to some degree, it was still mostly on the same level as before, since artificial aging did not bring him the years of experience that growing up normally would. From that moment on, he had to form himself a new image of himself. Frankly, he was facing a fierce identity crisis.

                     After the episode Child's Play, Lloyd adopted an identity whose foundation was flimsy and unstable. It consisted of a few simple pillars that supported his image of himself. Some emotions, thoughts, and memories that he could not, wasn’t able to or didn’t dare to deal with, secretly and slowly gnawed at those pillars like erosion. They grew into doubt that settled into the cracks like rockfoil.

                     That flimsy foundation for his self-image, consisted of these elements: I am the Green Ninja. I'm the strongest ninja of all. I’m the son of  sensei Garmadon. I’m the grandson of The First Spinjitzu Master. I'm one of the Elemental Masters. I'm a student of Sensei Wu. I'm one of the five elemental ninjas. It's my destiny to protect the world from evil.

                     This made it easy for Morro to destabilize and crush Lloyd’s self-esteem. Morro proved himself to be stronger and more independent than Lloyd, and that he could win him over and over again, no matter how hard Lloyd tried to fight back. Lloyd felt weak and desperate. Two pillars of his self-image collapsed to the ground and the masked emotions and doubts that chipped away at the other columns began to grow and intensify: He was not the strongest ninja and was therefore unable to protect the world from this evil.

                     This also affected his view of him as the Green Ninja. Although logically he still was just that – the Golden Weapons and his powers had proven it – he could not help but think that maybe Morro really was supposed to be the Chosen One. His identity was cracking, which ate away at his strength and self-esteem. Being a Psychic Type, his greatest strength resided in his psyche, and whenever his mind was in an unstable and vulnerable state, he couldn’t do his best, even if he had used everything he had learned. Losing his father fairly recently had already struck a dangerous notch in his mental stability.

                     Even though Lloyd was still his father's son, it didn't feel the same when he was no longer with him. Finally, he was only driven forward by his relationship with his other loved ones. He had to do everything he could to stop Morro from harming his friends. By protecting them he was also protecting the last intact remnants of his Self.

                     Lloyd did everything he could to resist Morro's possession. From time to time a memory of his friends and the will to keep them safe increased his "self-control," weakening the ghost's hold on him. However, a long, grueling time in constant motion, without water and nourishment, poisoned by a cold, vindictive spirit, steadily filled his mind with anguish and despair. Doubts penetrated deep into the tears of his self-image, breaking everything old until he no longer knew who he was. Only with the last bits of his mental strength could he interfere with Morro's possession so that he failed to clear the other ninjas out of his way.

                     Then, when Morro broke away from Lloyd's body, the Espeon felt like nothing more than an empty, broken shell floating aimlessly in the dark, beachless sea. He was unable to live up to any of the expectations and goals that had been set for him. Now, he was used as a trade-in item in the market of the world’s destiny. He longer had the strength or power to save even his best friends. He was as helpless as a newborn pup and all he could do was to stand by and apologize when he was traded for Realm Crystal.

                      Somewhere from his past, he dug up one last spark of strength. Already as a child, he had been left alone with unfriendly people, who then had ignited that stubborn flame in him: the desire to fight the cruel, unjust and repressive world. His body still had more strength than his mind, and this momentary burst of grit made him kick the Crystal out of Morro's hand. This, however, caused him to end up in the freezing stream, all his energy used up. There was not much left but a primitive desire to survive and a little strength to keep his head afloat before the cold numbed his muscles.

                     Lloyd's mind was in shambles. Images, memories, shattered fragments of his adopted identity… they all churned in his tired, blurred consciousness. Unintentionally, he began to go through the feelings of uncertainty, fear and inadequacy that he had denied from himself for years. The present seemed more surreal than the memories. He relived moments that had had a revolutionary impact on his life: When the golden weapons pointed him out as a Green Ninja; when he grew up under the influence of Tomorrow's Tea; when he met his mother and became to know her; when he unleashed the Golden Dragon in the Temple of Light; how he fought the Overlord who was possessing his father; how he harnessed his True Potential; got his father back; lost Zane; reunited his friends again and felt great togetherness with the other Elemental Masters. When he lost his father again. And when Morro possessed him.

                     Lloyd was lost. If it wasn’t for his friends and their care, he would have sunk deep into depression (and, on the other hand, drowned or, at the very least, died of hypothermia). When Kai carried him out of the FSM’s tomb, it triggered a very clear memory of the day when the Master of Fire had fulfilled his potential and Lloyd had been identified as the Chosen One. That day, Kai had come to save him from an erupting volcano and carried him to safety. Now, Lloyd felt like he was that little scared cub again, who had for a moment thought he was going to burn to the ground in the boiling lava of the volcano. He remembered how Kai's closeness had brought a feeling of immediate security around him. Even though the mountain had raged and wanted to kill them both, Lloyd had known he didn’t have to be afraid. Kai was there. He'd protect Lloyd. There was no reason to fight the fear anymore, he didn't have to pretend like he was tough. He was carried by someone older and stronger, whom to rely on.

                     The feeling was so intense, the memory so vivid that Lloyd was overwhelmed by an inexplicable, immense grief. The sadness of being forced to give up a carefree childhood so early on, to take on an enormous responsibility and assume a role that seemed too demanding for such a small boy to perform. He had had to grow up way too soon. He started shaking from holding back the tears. He didn’t mind since he thought Kai was probably assuming that he was shivering from the cold. But when Kai said quietly and understandingly: "Shh... It's okay... Don't worry about it," the last wall of pride and fear fell, and Lloyd could no longer repress his weeping.

                     At this point, he slowly began to build a new identity on the ruins of the wrecked one. He understood that even though he was the Green Ninja, it didn’t make him greater or more important than the others. He had more magical power than anyone else, but he was still only a person just like them. He could hesitate, too, and fail. There was no way for him to do anything more than what he was capable of, mentally, physically, and skill-wise. That’s all there was to offer, and if it wasn't enough, there were others whom he could rely on. Others, who would catch him when he ran out of strength. He wasn't the last link to hold the whole structure together.

                     These ideas developed slowly in Lloyd's exhausted mind. Slowly, he got stitched back up from the fragments of his previous self-image. This time, however, his new identity was not something that was given to him from the outside, in which he would have had to fit himself, but it was a solid, authentic self-image created as a result of self-reflection. It was still obscure, uncertain and seeking its form, and its growth was overshadowed by fear. But the conversation with his father drove away that last fear. The fear that Morro was supposed to be the Green Ninja instead of Lloyd. His father assured that Lloyd’s qi had no influence on how he should live and act. He should live the way his heart told him to.

                     In the end, although Morro managed to beat Lloyd one last time, this time he did not break down. He was more intact now, he had more inner strength, and he knew for sure he wouldn't be abandoned. That the fate of the world wasn't really up to him. He may have been part of the story, but after all, he wasn't the protagonist, at least not the only one of them.

[butterflyinthewell]

So I’m working on a fanfic about Hannibal being diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s and Will struggling to come to terms with that.

I’m realizing it’s really a commentary on how society treats people whose brains work different.

There is no point where Will loves Hannibal any less and he never sees him as less than human, but doctors and other people do.

Most of the story is from Will’s POV, (I start each chapter in Hannibal’s memory palace as it’s crumbling) but I have Hannibal’s perspective running in my own mind too when we watch him through Will. So when Alzheimer’s causes Hannibal to act weird, I know exactly what he thinks he’s doing or where he thinks he is in place / time, and his behavior makes perfect sense according to where / when he thinks he is. Will and the readers won’t have that side of it, so to them it seems Hannibal doesn’t know how to behave. He has his lucid moments where he’s acutely aware that “I have Alzheimer’s and my brain is failing me”, though they diminish as his brain deteriorates. But he really doesn’t know what he’s doing when he’s not lucid, though sometimes he can remember it later and tell Will what happened. Those moments are heartbreaking.

So as an example of visible behavior vs what I know and don’t tell you: Will sees Hannibal smashing a rolling pin against the kitchen counter, but Hannibal thinks he’s cleaning up to prepare for a dinner party the next night and he’s frantic because there’s a lot to do and not much time, and he can’t get the counter clean. Once Will figures out Hannibal is trying to clean, he trades the pin for a sponge and helps him “clean”. Hannibal forgets why he was so frantic once they’re done, so now he can go to bed and sleep instead of keeping Will up by banging on the counter for hours.

You can’t reason with a confused person with Alzheimer’s once they’re past a certain point. It’s easier to just step into their reality and guide them gently in the direction you hope they’ll go. (Will is very hit and miss at doing this initially, but will get good at it later!)

Most people would suggest take the rolling pin away, but that would get in the way of the need Hannibal is trying to meet and lead to a fight. From his side it looks like Will is preventing him from getting ready for esteemed guests. Will trading the pin for a sponge is meeting Hannibal where he is, calming the anxiety he’s feeling and gently nudging him where he actually should go (to bed). Hannibal is happy with that because his need was met.

There’s another scene in a grocery store where Will doesn’t pay attention to Hannibal’s signals that this isn’t working, and it leads to Hannibal causing a bit of a ruckus. The store is restocking and there’s boxes and chaos everywhere. Hannibal can’t handle that, so he starts taking things out of the cart and putting them on the shelf like he’s at the checkout counter because that’s what you do when you’re about to leave the store. But Will misses that signal and puts things back into the cart, and suddenly a very angry Hannibal flips the cart over and hollers that “this isn’t correct” because he can’t access the language to explain he’s afraid.

Will has to talk him down from a panic attack and help him out of the store. Later, Hannibal is able to explain to Will that disarray frightens him because it looks like his memory palace, and when that happens he can’t tell his inner world from the outer world and doesn’t know which one he’s “speaking” to. But small bits of disarray become something Will can use to calm Hannibal down by giving him messy things to organize. (Hannibal is obsessive about organizing stuff, it’s soothing for him.)

Their love language evolves too. From speaking in metaphors to just speaking, then they progress to actions and finally end on touch.

Will needs to realize it’s less about what Hannibal is losing and more about what’s still there.

Hannibal is going to lose who Will is, but he never loses the fact that he loves him. Some days, he will look at Will and fall in love with him over and over like the first time he saw him in Crawford’s office, because in those moments every time is the first.

And that is what Will needs to realize. Their love hasn’t been lost.

Btw, Hannibal doesn’t stop being dangerous till the final stages of Alzheimer’s. He’s about midway through it when he almost mauls the staff at a hospital because they’re being nasty to him when he’s confused! (They chemically restrain him with Haldol and are super shitty liars about it). That experience is actually what gets Will to see that people are going to treat Hannibal like he’s not really a person anymore. Let’s just say the doctor who ordered the Haldol isn’t gonna survive. It’s Hannibal...that means people get eaten! 😌

Also, the fanfic starts after they’ve been married for 10 years, so the year is 2030 at the start of the fic. I’m writing this pretending the story of Hannibal began sometime in late 2010, Will pulled them off the cliff in 2015, they got some aliases to disappear and moved around America dodging the FBI for another five years.

The pre-story post-fall timeline goes like this:

December 2019: Will and Hannibal have been on the run for a long while, but they stop in Hawaii to have a nice, tropical Christmas. Hannibal can’t remember the volcano’s name is Kilauea.

January 1: 2020: They get married on the beach. It’s sort of spur of the moment, but they took the time to buy tuxedos and rings. Their tuxes are white with silver accents. Hannibal has a silver vest and bow tie. Will has a silver bow tie and cummerbund. They say their vows at sunset by the water.

Late February 2020: Will and Hannibal leave Hawaii for Cuba just as Covid-19 is hitting. They’ve already bought a house, so they move in. Both test positive for covid. Will stays asymptotic and never gets even a tickle in his throat. Hannibal gets the whole deal without getting sick enough to end up in the hospital, but recovers. He has some long covid issues, like shortness of breath and fatigue.

2022: Hannibal survives the widow maker heart attack and it’s discovered he had the heart attack because covid damaged his heart. He gets quadruple bypass surgery and spends a lot of time in ICU recovering. As he gets better he realizes his memory isn’t what it should be. Doctors tell him his heart stopping from the heart attack and the bypass surgery can sometimes cause some memory loss. Hannibal starts relying on his phone and GPS more and more. Will begins to suspect something is wrong, but the doctors reassure him that it’s temporary, so he lets it go.

(Fanfic begins here.)

2030: Hannibal is making mistakes in cooking, cleanup, paying bills and just everyday stuff, but he doesn’t think it’s weird. He blames “kids” when questioned about why he put dishes away dirty or burned dinner. Will is noticing things aren’t right, so he begs Hannibal to see a doctor. Will thinks it’s something solvable, like encephalitis or some other organ. But no, Hannibal gets looked over from head to toe, inside and outside, sent to a neurologist and finishes with his diagnosis of early onset Alzheimer’s. (He’s 58 at the time of diagnosis, but the disease process started when he was 48 and it was missed for so long because of the heart attack.)

As soon as he’s diagnosed, Hannibal starts making plans for Will to be his medical power of attorney, in control of their bank account, in charge of his advanced directives, etc.. He sort of drops it all onto poor Will, who barely gets time to absorb the news before he’s signing stuff. Will is in a tailspin of emotions.

It’ll take Alzheimer’s 20 years to chew through Hannibal’s brain. It’s not always gonna be pretty or easy to watch. At the end it becomes clear Hannibal is waiting for something, and he passes as soon as those final needs are met. Hannibal always has to have control of something, right? Right!

I’m gonna throw all your feelings into a washing machine and spin them. It’s what I’m good at with fics like this.

Anyway...

I have very specific images of how Will and Hannibal look at the start of the fic. Will is still pretty af, but a lot less friendly looking, and Hannibal looks like a scruffy Norse dad.

The most beautiful part about writing this (for me, anyway) is watching how Will learns to understand Hannibal’s communications as his language abilities deteriorate. He will continue to see and hear him even when most other people won’t try to watch or listen. He learns to be less “stop that, it’s annoying” and more “what need isn’t being met and how can I meet it? How can I step into his world to be with him where he is?”

Finally, their wedding song is important to the story. This was their first dance song. It’s their song. Will sings it to Hannibal a few times in the fic, and if he plays it on his phone it can break through the Alzheimer’s fog and take Hannibal back to the bank safe in his memory palace where he keeps their wedding day. Yup, he keeps that memory in a safe and it’s the last thing to go. ❤️

[princess-of-the-corner]

Human After All: I'd like to know more about A) Lust realizing that Hohenheim had an actual life in Resembool and B) everyone's reactions to Ed and Al sneaking off to do the human transmutation and the aftermath.

Oh boy here we fuckin go!!!!!

Lust realizing that Hohenheim had a life in Resembool:

Oh boy. Okay so this has some setup.

When Lust first meets Ed and Al, she assumes the situation is a lot different. Basically They're close enough to be mistaken for twins, so she thought it was more "one night stand and disappeared from town but their mom remembered the name and told the kids". Because... Why would he stay?

But then Lust babysits Ed and Al on a trip back to Resembool to visit Winry and her grandma. And like.

Lust gets curious about some things. And she happens to see a photo album out that she can't help but look through.

Of course Granny finds her snooping but just lets her look through it and explains that it's from Winry's parents' wedding. And Lust eventually flips to a page where Hohenheim is in the photo.

Lust pauses on it because it's so strange. First in general, of how Hohenheim looks just like Father but also nothing like him at the same time. Physically identical, but the way they carry themselves is.. Entirely different.

Especially as this picture is kinda goofy. Granny tells her how everyone was hinting to Hohenheim that he should marry Trisha since they were already "basically married". And the newly married Sarah Rockbell had given up pn subtly, and chucked her boquet right at Hohenheim's face with a "sorry I was aiming for Trisha!"(which no one belives because she has incredible aim).

Lust asks more on that. And Granny mentions how Hohenheim and Trisha had been together for a bit amd were already living in the same home. And that pretty much immediatly after that whole "lack of subtly" the pair decided "despite not going through legal paperwork we are married now fuck you' and also bonus pregnancy announcement. Which has Lust relize Ed and Al aren't twins.

But it's weird to her. Because like. Hohenheim had a life here? He was with this woman for a few years and essentially got married (clearly the "don't go through the paperwork" is because he doesn't legally exist). But like. He had a wife and kids. One of the kids seems to have been actually planned. Why would he do that? And why did he leave? No one has answers on that, but Granny says that if he did leave, it was for good reasons. Not whatever the town gossips make up for fun.

Granny is a little sus about Lust's interests in all this because like. I kiiinda mentioned this before on my artblog but he way I draw Lust she actually looks a lot like "if Ed was a girl" and considering how much Ed looks like Hohenheim... They basically look somewhat related. Granny points that out and kinda pulls some Gaslight Girlboss Gatekeep of "nope no relation whatsoever my father just worked with him long ago but it's totally not relevant to anything!"

Anyway!

Later, Lust is wandering around Ed and Al's home because that fucker hasn't burned yet. And she just... Sees more of it.

True. It's been just the boys for years but there's still things like his clothes in the bedroom closet or something casually put on a shelf too high for Trisha to have reached.

The two rooms that really hit are the bedroom and the study.

Tbe bedroom is mostly untouched. But she sees a shelf of little statues. It's strange to her, but she realizes all the statutes are made from Alchemy. About half of them have very obvious marks, a sign of a talented but inexperienced maker. Seeing two distinct styles, she cam guess Ed and Al made those.

The rest are perfect. Intricate and flawless. If they weren't on the shelf with the others, she would've thought they were made by some master clay artist.

Alchemically made trinkets as gifts for someone they love.

The study is another beast altogether. A whole library on Alchemical texts. Some even older than Lust. All marked up with someone's notes in the margins. The same person's notes, as the handwriting doesn't differ. Clearly all these are important. So why leave them?

The real hard hitter is a journal Hohenheim left. Of course Lust reads it. The fact that the journal is written in Xerxian is just another punch to the gut, but thankfully Lust can read it.

It has a lot of things but the main info she reads is an entry from when Ed was just born and Hohenheim is discussing worries over how his whole "Philosophers Stone in Human Form" deal might be effecting Ed in terms of like. Genetics and stuff.

But the main thing Lust focuses on is that Hohenheim mentions discussing those fears with Trisha. That he told her what he was and his whole history and everything.

It's... Confusing to Lust. Why did Hohenheim just settle down here in this small ass rural town with a normal woman? What was it about her that compelled him to stay in one place so long? To settle down after years and have a kid? Having a second kid? And telling her about... Everything?

She finds no answer because, from all accounts, it seems like Trisha was just a normal, small-town girl. She didn't even have an interest in Alchemy! Just gardening. Why her? Why not someone at least... Great and powerful to match what he was? Even if no one could truly compare to what he was.

Everyone's reactions to Ed and Al sneaking off to do Human Transmutation:

Oh boy. This is a big plot point.

So the boys had quite a plan to trick the adults. Lust has gone on trips out of town for weekends(reporting back to Father), and she's also babysat the boys on a trip to Resembool before. So the boys wait until one of her trips and tell Roy and Riza that she's taking them on a different trip to Resembool. None of the adults know this until Lust comes back without them and has no idea where they were.

They put it together real fast and all three book it to the train station. Several hours of worried pacing of what could've happened.

Roy and Riza are entirely in the dark of what might happen. Lust though... She knows how the Gate works. And what could have happened.

She knows that There's a Price to pay. And while she was planning on encouraging the boys to go through the Gate anyway, she was supposed to be involved with it so she could trade a part of her Philosopher's Stone for their safety. Obviously just so they don't loose a Sacrifice to blood loss or later infection! Not because she cares or anything! But yeah without her, who knows what the Price may be?

They check the boys house first. They see plenty of blood, which is a terrifying sight. But they also see a trail leading out. And that if the boys are still alive, they probably went to the Rockbell place.

Which yeah. Granny's already waiting for them. She wants to yell at them for failing, but it would be hypocritical sinve she didn't notice the first time around.

She tells them the boys are alive but fucked up. Ed lost a couple limbs and Al is... Hard to explain.

Lust is the first to notice the suit of armor in the living room. The way it's arranged like a child, curled up and hiding, barely peeking out from behind the "arms". Light in it's "eyes", like someone's in there watching her.

She remembers the experiments done on the death row inmates. Puttin Souls in suits of armor. She's horrified, but not surprised, when it moves.

That is a whole conversation. Lust has to pretend she doesn't know how that works(while also questioning how the boys managed it). Al tells them what he remembers, which is just everythiny going wrong and then being in the armor and Ed missing some limbs.

We have a long emotional scene when Roy goes to talk to Ed.

Ed is very much not okay at this point and he's trying to be angry but it's just not really there. And he just asks why Roy is still there. He failed to keep them from fucking up why does he still care? Just go back home and leave them so he doesn't have to deal with them anymore.

Well that's just heartbreaking. Roy just talks to him about a lot of things. And the main thing was that this wasn't just "I'm gonna try and stop you but whoops failed that bye bitch" situation. He's not just going to drop the kids because he failed once. He's not even going ti drop them after months of pushing him away and being stubborn about the whole situation. They're a family now damn it.

And Ed kinda feels like that might be worse, because he threw that away ti go fuck up. But Roy tells him it's not "thrown away". They're still going to be here for him. And figure things out.

Later at night, Roy, Riza and Lust all kinda sneaknout individually. Which does lead to some comedy until Granny catches them and calls them idiots. But all of them were thinking of going to the boy's house and looking over their notes.

Roy and Lust are the only ones who can make heads or tails of the notes. Riza can follow some but gets lost and Granny never was an Alchemy person. Roy's looking more for "what went wrong" while Lust is focused more on "what went right". And Lust does find that though they came very close to making a Homunculus, they did do everything pretty right. She accidentally comments on that, which leads to a horrifying theoretical of "what if the boys managed to make a fake Trisha that looked and acted like her but wasn't her?". This also leads to the more disturbing question of "what was it they did manage to make"?

This is a thing that came up in Canon, but here they get answers of the thing that they made wasn't their mom, and you can't bring back the dead. Ed and Al take that news about as well as they did in Canon as well.

The "possible homunculus" thing comes up too with the others wondering if Al really is Al and not just... Something vaguely like him that Ed accidentally created. (Lust knows but can't tell how she knows rip!). Riza to the rescue on this one by asking Al about something Ed shouldn't know about. So that existential crisis is averted!

Of course there's discussion of what to do to help Ed and Al. Which... Does lead to getting back toward Canon of "have Ed become a State Alchemist". It's debated a lot because ya know. Sure it's the best option to help them have the freedom and access to stuff tk find shit but. Ya know. Roy already feels like he failed to protect these kids once already this is not helping.

Anyway! One more fun scene!

Please imagine once Ed gets the automail arm and just does the clap-slap Alchemy. And Roy and Riza are like "yo what the FUCK???"

[dennou-translations]

Violet Evergarden Gaiden: Chapter 6

Please feel free to message me about possible corrections. If you can, consider supporting the creators by purchasing the official releases here.

← Previous || Index || Afterword →

The Postal Company and the Auto-Memories Doll

   The current times were labeled as the era of postal business flood.

Within a continent that congregated small countries, the people who operated in the mail industry competed ruthlessly against one another. Putting it very simply, the situation of postal companies throughout the continent was of stealing each other’s customers.

Clients chose their mail agency of use and requested deliveries on their own. The reasons for the choices would be fees, deliverable areas, and of course, even the postmen’s degree of courtesy was a subject of deliberation. Taking all of those into account, they would pick one postal company from somewhere.

At present, as the management structure of postal corporations was becoming devoted to carrying the side-business of amanuensis “Auto-Memories Dolls” rather than only delivering mailed items, others were unable to establish a position in the market if their work leaned towards the latter. The more the competition increased, the more obvious the differences in services would become, and, as the superior and inferior ones would grow evident, the losing side would inevitably close down their company.

Within such harsh rivalry, in a certain country named Leidenschaftlich, located in the continent’s southern coast, there was a postal agency so-called CH Postal Service had boomed its name throughout the industry. Although it was a newly introduced company that had but a few years since being founded, its reputation was exceptional. The degree of customer satisfaction was high, and there was abundance of re-users.

On a general view, there were two motives behind its good results.

The first one was that the CH Postal Service had no restrictions to its areas of delivery. Should a client desire, it would deliver to any part of the globe. Of course, fees were imposed for remote places, yet that was the first attempt in the industry of pulling such a feat. Even existing postal agencies disputing for a leading position in the industry had determined delivery areas. The CH Postal Service delivered even to regions of conflict, therefore being a great help for customers whose family members or lovers found themselves in battlegrounds. Its patrons increasing in numbers was something logical. However, succeeding in doing such a thing as though it were extremely natural was terribly difficult for ordinary companies. The CH Postal Service was in condition to go anywhere for a client’s sake, as it had assembled the personnel and system capable of making it possible – therefore, it had managed to do so.

The second reason was that there existed a top star in CH Postal Service, who had come into sight in the Auto-Memories Doll business like a comet. Seeing her walk around the city would cause people to do double takes at her looks, and hearing her voice would paint their cheeks red out of fascination. She was a perfect beauty that seemed to have come out of a mythological legend. As of late, a play that the famous dramatist Oscar had written using her image had been announced and gained popularity, making her renowned even outside of the industry as per synergy.

People probably envisioned just what type of woman she was. Mostly, their expectations were betrayed in good ways. She was a woman that surpassed the categorical components of imagination.

Her name was Violet Evergarden.

The largest trading place of the continent was a port that served as a gate from and to the sea. It was a national interest of Leidenschaftlich’s, as well as a trigger for wars. Countless other countries had attempted to invade it, seeking its abundant resources and a privileged location.

Although the city was at financial ease with the prosperity of its economy, scars of old battles remained in some places. The symbols of long military service from the past had not been etched solely in protection walls or stone-paved roads. It could be said that the fountain built in the capital Leiden during the celebration of Leidenschaftlich’s hundredth anniversary was its most well-known marking.

Consisting of a total of nine goddess statues holding water vases on their shoulders, it worked in a way that groundwater poured out them. Despite it being a gem made by a nationally employed artist, the goddesses had their necks chopped off. It remained unfixed, for the sake of not letting anyone forget Leidenschaftlich’s disgrace in authorizing the invasion of another country’s castle town.

In spite of being a major commercial nation, it was a military state. There were armed soldiers amidst the lively cityscapes even during times of peace.

The members of the CH Postal Company had such country as their home.

“Oh, what’cha doing?”

“My.”

“It has been a while.”

Under a beautiful autumn sky, a group that rarely gathered met in front of the headless goddesses’ fountain. They were two women and one man.

“If it isn’t Cattleya and V. Have you come out to welcome the great me, unable to wait for my return?”

Leaving his motorcycle parked by the roadside and heartily eating grilled chicken was a postman clad in a glass-green shirt. His slender boots of cross-shaped heels gave out a devious sex appeal. Hidden behind sandy-blond hair, his light blue eyes were provocative. His unmanly, soft facial features were not gentle. It was Benedict Blue, who worked at the CH Postal Company.

“What’re you saying? I’m gonna ask again: what’re you saying? T-There’s no way I’d come pick you up! I just went out shopping as an errand for my beloved President. Violet, say something too. To this platform shoes man. Nobody called for you.”

The one who spoke as if to smooth things over with a moody voice was a beautiful woman of gracefully wavy dark hair. She had amethyst eyes and an hourglass shape. Brimming with enough sensuality to enslave the opposite sex, her body was enveloped in a carmine dress-coat with a waist ribbon, yet was about to burst out of it. She was Cattleya Baudelaire, who also worked at the CH Postal Company.

“You two, you are being too loud out in the street.”

Reproaching the duo with a voice of silver bells was an elegantly beautiful girl dressed up like a porcelain doll. Said person had a hairband made of embroidery lace sitting on her hair as it spread out in waves and was wearing a one-piece with plenty of such lace sewn to it, along with a chiffon trench coat.

“V.”

“Violet.”

She was Violet Evergarden, the top Auto-Memories Doll of the CH Postal Company, whose blue eyes enthralled those who looked at them, as did the emerald-green brooch sitting on her chest.

Benedict and Cattleya turned toward Violet, changing the addressee of their impressions in unison.

“What’s up with you?”

“Really, Violet, you’re pretty fired-up. You’re letting your hair down? Are you on a date?”

Pressed on by the two, the Auto-Memories Doll that the CH Postal Company had pride in, Violet Evergarden, cast her gaze to the ground. “Lady Tiffany... someone from my home arranged everything, but is it that strange?” Her voice sounded slightly embarrassed.

Cattleya observed Violet with a gentle look. “It’s not strange. You’re cute enough not to lose to me. Are you going to see the major?”

“Yes. It is still early for the meeting time, so I was going to buy a book for me to bring along.”

“That’s great; you’re looking forward to it, huh! Hey, she doesn’t look weird, right, Benedict?” Cattleya rejoiced without restraint.

“Tch,” Benedict clicked his tongue.

It had truly been a long while since the three of them had last gathered. That was only natural. At the CH Postal Company, everyone worked industriously every day. There were sporadic occasions in which they would be grouped on duty, but that was only when they managed to miraculously coordinate their schedules. They were mates who had been hired by their president at about the same time, so to say.

Benedict threw away the bones of the meat he had just eaten onto the road, peeking at Violet’s face while licking off the oil remaining on his hand. “Hu~n, well, isn’t it fine? Nice work.”

Although their faces were close, Violet stared back at him with her huge orbs without bending backwards.

Benedict flatly thrust a fingertip at her forehead in-between one big eye and another. “But the one who gets to walk you around gotta be me. As your older brother part, I can’t accept my little sister part getting eaten down by an old man. I’m better. ‘Cause I’m young and cool.”

It could be said that someone who had the nerve to say such a thing so imposingly was quite a rare type even amongst humanity.

With an aspect of irritation, Cattleya interjected, “A third party is gonna be telling you this, but Mr. Gilbert is super wonderful, is an adult man and I know Violet’s head-over-heels for him, so you’re the one who’s uncalled-for here!”

“What does ‘head-over-heels’ mean?” Violet immediately reacted to the term she was unused to hearing.

“It’s like being obsessed. Didn’t you say that the major was the only one for you?”

“I did say that, indeed.” Her brows furrowed as if she were troubled, her blue eyes slightly moist. She was most likely “embarrassed”. Perhaps becoming unable to say anything else, Violet wound up turning her face away.

The feeling of affection for that awkward girl, the envy towards her happiness and the complicated emotions from having a friend taken away by a man traveled across Benedict and Cattleya’s minds. Therefore, in order to dismiss it all, the two silently decided to ball their fists, pushing and kicking Violet left and right.

“Shit. Don’t go acting cute. You’re just a battlefield maniac.”

“Really, it pisses me off. You’re as strong as a bear! But you’re adorable.”

Perhaps not feeling any pain, or perhaps trying to figure out how to deal with such a situation, she resigned quietly and accepted the unwarranted violence. As seen from the sidelines, it looked like something close to bullying, but Violet was actually the one with highest combat capacity amongst them. When the physical strength of the three was put together, that sort of thing was no more than playing around.

“Listen, don’t let him touch you carelessly, all right? This is amazing, though. You’re like a fluffy dog. Cattleya, you try touching too.”

“Hey, don’t you go carelessly touching her with those hands either! Even the insolence of getting meat juices on a maiden’s hair has a limit! Stop it!”

“It’s fine, ain’t it? It’s not like I just got outta the toilet.”

“Eh, does that mean... you never wash your hands!? Right? That’s what it is, right? No waaay! Violet, hey, come here. Benedict, don’t you get near us! It’s my turf from beyond this point! I’ll beat the hell out of you for territory violation if you come over!”

As Cattleya swung her legs, enveloped in Suède boots, to draw a line on the ground, Benedict opposed to it in a level as low as the next person, not losing to her. He picked a dead branch from the root of a roadside tree and did the same as she had. “Haah~? Then I’ll make everything beyond this point into my turf! Speaking of which, the way to your beloved president’s head office is behind me, so don’t you go back to it either!”

“Ah~, that’s unfair! It’s. Not. Fair!”

“It’s not unfair~! You’re the one who came up with it first~!”

It was a child-like action for members of society to take. Violet, the youngest one, regarded them with interest as if she were watching a dispute between animals of a new species.

That was a short-lived period of peace before an uproar occurred.

   At the same moment, in the same country, within the same city, time flowed peacefully inside the head office of the CH Postal Company, nobody aware of the nightmare that would approach them a few minutes later.

The business firm was erected in an alley away from the main street, projecting itself in the very sense of the word over rows of small shops. It consisted of a spire with a light green, dome-shaped roof and a weathercock on display, a deep green roof that spread out as if to surround said spire, and outer walls made of red bricks that had been sunburned into a tasteful color. The iron plate on the arch-shaped front gate made known the name of the company with letters printed in gold.

Should one open the door, a cheerful-sounding bell would announce the arrival of a customer. Upon coming in, one would soon find the counter, which was the sector where the reception of postal items took place. The building had three floors, with the first being the reception desk, the second being the office and the spire in the third one being the president’s residence.

No matter how far it was from the main street, the building was quite expensive. Its owner – an individual referred by the members of the CH Postal Company as “President” and “Old Man” – was drinking black tea with brandy at a balcony that had an unbroken view of the city.

“I’m so brilliant that it’s scary.”

He was a lady-killer good-looking enough to display self-indulgent behavior. His age was around the thirties. He had droopy grayish blue eyes, red hair grown slightly long, a manly build, and although he was not young, he had soft facial traits that exuded sophisticated simplicity. His appearance seemed to earn the envy and jealousy from other men of the same generation as him. His leather boots shone lustrously without a single stain, polished perhaps out of obsession.

“President Hodgins!”

The one who had yelled into the room was a girl of innocent features. She was the possessor of velvety, evenly cut lavender-gray hair that stopped above her shoulders. She had large eyes, a small head and a petite body. It was still the physique of a young child, but the heterochromatic orbs from behind the glasses she wore bore a stunning suspiciousness that was mysterious even. She was a person who the word “lovely” fit perfectly.

“Please say so after you’ve finished work!”

However, her conduct had presence as the secretary of a self-centered chairman.

Hodgins retorted mildly, “Little Lux, what I need right now isn’t brutal working hours but relaxation time feeling the gentle autumn air and drinking tea.”

“Even if you say that with a nice voice, it sounds like nothing but running away from reality! Please; if you at least put the stamps, I’ll bring you as many cups of tea as you want! Tomorrow is the deadline! We have to clear up most papers today and submit to the concerned parties in lots of places tomorrow! It’s the Flying Letters all over again!”

“You’re already my Miss Secretary through and through. I’m so happy. You used to look like a scared little rabbit when you arrived here, but aren’t you a fine working lady now? This feeling that I was the one who raised you is exceptional, huh?”

“President Hodgins! Please! Take the stamp! If you hold it, I can move you to stamping it... I’ll also read out the documents to you...”

“Then, Little Lux, doesn’t it make no difference if you’re the one doing the stamping?”

“I’d do it if I could! All that’s left is the stuff that demands the president’s confirmation, so just get on with it!”

“That ordering tone with formal language coming from a teenage girl is giving me unbearable creeps... Hm, Little Lux, hey. You don’t look bad with a shirt-blouse and a long flared skirt, but why don’t you try changing your outfit? I think I’d recommend a black apron dress over a puffed sleeve shirt, black tights and red enamel shoes.”

“Please listen to what I say!” The figure that had once been worshiped as a demigoddess at the headquarters of a cultist organization was absent in Lux Sibyl – what was there instead was the figure of a half-crying subordinate attempting to convince her vain superior.

Lux had been working serious and untiringly ever since being brought over by Violet and hired into the CH Postal Company. Perhaps having incorporated a methodical personality, she was now entrusted with even the duty of president’s secretary, yet she always had a hard time with said easygoing president.

The competence that the man named Hodgins had for business was unquestionable, yet his self-amusement principles were extreme and he would not stop fooling around even when having piles of work to do. Keeping his day-by-day in check was Lux’s role. In worse times, she would have to search for him and pick him up at brothels in red-light districts.

“If you don’t put the stamps, the one who will die isn’t you, President, but myself.”

Lux was tired of it.

“No way. I’ll put the stamps. I’ll put them, I’ll put them. Don’t make such a depressed face. Little Lux, you’re too pessimistic. Also, you take everything too literally. I told you that eighty percent of the things I say are random, right? Poise yourself more at ease. Let’s enjoy everything. Even the troublesome stuff.”

“President... you seem like you’d say this even if you had a hole opened in your stomach... I’m jealous.”

“Thanks. I’m the type that grows through getting compliments.”

She had wanted to convey something that was no compliment, yet it did not turn into words as Lux wound up having her attention stolen by something else. Lux’s golden and reddish heterochromatic eyes caught a strange thing in the skies against the beautiful cityscape that was visible from the balcony.

“President Hodgins... Over there, something is...”

At the same time as she spoke, Hodgins forcefully dragged Lux’s body, held her up and jumped to the end of the room. Lux was squeezed tightly against Hodgins’s chest, not allowed to even scream or raise her voice in confusion.

A few seconds thereafter, the sound of an explosion ensued.

   “Do you not hear some sort of noise?” Violet’s leveled voice eventually came between Benedict and Cattleya, who were having a scuffle fight. Her blue orbs were looking up at the sky, sighting a black object that passed by in a flash.

And it struck one of the classy buildings among the cityscape of Leiden.

“The head office is under attack!” No sooner than she said so, Violet bolted from the place. She slipped through people standing still with their mouths open, their attention taken away by the explosion sound that had reverberated through the idyllic early afternoon.

“No way, no way! Eeh?! What about the President!?”

“Get on, you idiot.”

Benedict had mounted on his bike before long. After whispering lowly, he swung a hand around Cattleya’s back, all too easily lifted her up, sat her on his knees and simultaneously turned on the engine, taking off.

“Wai—! Doing that all of a sudden is scary! It’s scaryyy!” Cattleya shouted, clinging to Benedict’s neck.

“Move! Move! Y’all are in the way!”

A young woman who was selling flower bouquets with a mobile catering fell on the spot, the horse of her carriage letting out a neigh. Ignoring the situation of the traffic in the street, Benedict rampantly chased after Violet. He gradually got closer to her figure, which had already become the size of a bean grain.

Benedict stretched out his hand. “V!”

Violet had been running at an astonishing speed, but upon hearing Benedict’s voice, she nimbly hopped onto his motorcycle. The two of them, who had a mutual understanding without the invitation of “get on”, exchanged words while paying no mind to the scandalized Cattleya.

“That sound was of Leidenschaftlich style artillery.”

“Did you see the cannonball’s firing position?”

“There is no mistake that it came flying from the west side of the city. Look, smoke is coming out of the head office’s third floor. If we suppose that it was shot from somewhere just as high, we can restrict the location, right?”

“It struck Old Man’s apartment, so there’s too many suspects.”

“How can you be so calm!? The President might’ve died!” Cattleya glared daggers at Benedict and Violet, yet the expressions that two had on were different from normal times. She quieted down without thinking.

“No way we wouldn’t be worried, right...!?” Benedict spoke even for Violet’s part.

The motorcycle that the three of them rode let out a roar while going up the slope.

   Caught under a bookshelf, Hodgins was straddled over Lux with his hands so as not to squash her. Lux looked up at him, dumbfounded.

“Little Lux, you can... you can take it slow, but sneak off from under me.”

The glass of the windows had shattered and scattered all over the place. The president’s desk, which was an order-made one designed by a master craftsman, had been smashed to fragments. The carpet had turned into ember and the room was starting to envelope in flames.

“President Hodgins... I-I’m sorry!” Lux crawled out, attempting to somehow lift the shelf with her powerless arms. However, it did not even budge.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Man~, I’d been skipping push-ups lately so this is taking a toll on me... Heave-ho.”

The instant he put on strength and lifted the bookshelf all at once, he rolled away and escaped from being crushed. He was the bearer of a considerable muscle strength.

Hodgins stood up and looked around the room. The look in his eyes was no longer the earlier one of a slacker chairman.

“Sorry; you okay?” Only the gentleness in his voice was the same as always.

“Why are you apologizing, President?”

“‘Cause this was an attack aimed at me, no matter how you think of it. If anything happened to you, I wouldn’t have any excuse to give your parents.”

“I don’t have parents.”

“That’s right. Then, I wouldn’t have any excuse to give you. Now, we gotta check if the other employees are all right...”

“Anyhow, let’s go downstairs; we’ll both burn to death if we stay like this!” Making a snap decision, Lux ran to the stairs that led to the lower floor.

Planning to go down through the balcony’s emergency stairs, Hodgins desperately called out to her, “Little Lux! Wait up!”

However, before Lux flew out the door, it opened automatically. Hodgins saw a brusque arm stretching before his eyes and taking ahold of Lux. She was dragged into the darkness and her frame disappeared.

“Little Lux...?”

By the moment that Lux reappeared before Hodgins, whose lips twitched, there was as a muzzle aimed at her temple. The one who pushed her forward while holding onto her shoulder was a man clad in a completely black suit. Six other men dressed the same way revealed themselves in succession. Hodgins’s gaze gradually became grimmer.

“How do you do, Claudia Hodgins?” The man referred to Hodgins by the name that he made sure not to call himself by. It was the name his parents had come up with while convinced that he was going to be born a girl.

Breaking into a distorted smile, Hodgins replied, “You’re truly one refreshing shitface, Salvatore Ridaudo.”

Salvatore smiled sarcastically as well. His hair was fixed with balm to the point there was not a single disheveled thread. He was the possessor of wood-brown droopy eyes, thick lips and skin as pale as wax.

“So, what is it you wanna do by shooting a cannonball into my office and thrusting a gun at my secretary?”

“My, good job figuring out that it was our doing.”

“I have a rough idea of it, but can’t you tell me… Mr. President of the Salvatore Postal Company? All that comes to me is that my academic background in the Military School was below yours.”

“How modest... What are you, an up-and-coming entrepreneur whose name everyone knows in the mail business nowadays, talking about? It’s very obvious what I’m after, right? The Salvatore Postal Company and the CH Postal Company. Two agencies competing for deployment in Leidenschaftlich. The fact that the other party is a nuisance certainly applies to you too, but I’m the one who’s been in this industry for the longest time. I can’t contain my frustration. Your way of doing things is... Anyway, I want you to obediently come with us. I wish to have a talk at a quiet place. If you do that, we’ll go home without inflicting a single injury on this cute lady and the rest of the employees.”

For someone running a postal firm, he was a disturbing individual. Calling him an underground chief would be more frankly agreeable. The men in all-black under his control did not seem to be respectful individuals either.

“Think you’ll get to live in peace after doing something like this? The military police’s coming over soon.”

“Seems like you have contacts in the military, but I myself have strong connections too. The military police monitoring this area won’t move an inch. I had them promise that they’d pretend not to hear anything the whole day, no matter how much noise we make. Claudia... Excuse me; is it okay to call you by your first name?”

Hodgins gritted his teeth to the point they let out a creak. “Go ahead. It’s the name that my beloved parents gave me.”

“Then, Claudia. If we keep talking so leisurely, we’ll both scorch. I want you to come along with us on your own feet.”

“Got it, I’ll go over there. But leave my secretary here.”

At those words, Salvatore went blank. He cast his gaze at Lux, who – perhaps from too much fear – had tears naturally welling up in her eyes, and broke into a smile that was rather merciful for an enemy.

And then suddenly punched her on the cheek.

His eyes open wide, Hodgins’s expression visibly dyed itself in rage. “You...! You laid your hand on a woman!!”

A man from the back gave her support as she seemed about to fall to her knees.

Side-glancing Hodgins as he shouted angrily, Salvatore wiped off the blood on his fist onto the sleeve of one of his subordinates’ suit. “I loathe women who think things will somehow work out if they cry. Sorry.”

His voice sounded as though he had not an ounce of pangs of conscience.

By the time that the trio had arrived, the people of the neighboring shops were helping put the flames down together with the firefighters.

Seeing that, Violet whispered quietly, “It is almost as if they knew there would be fire, isn’t it?”

Indeed, just as she said, the fire department’s performance was too well-executed. Thanks to it, only the third floor of the CH Postal Company received damage.

“You three! Over here!”

As they turned around upon being called, they found uniform-clad office workers of the CH Postal Company standing outside with burns showing and in a horrible state. A middle-aged man, presumably the oldest of that group, was waving his hand.

“Anthony, everyone, you okay? What’s all this?”

Anthony, the section manager of the reception desk at the CH Postal Company, had genteel facial features. He spoke with a demeanor and manner of talking that matched said features, “Every employee who attended work as of today is fine. However... the President and his secretary Lux have been taken away.”

“No way!” Cattleya let out a cry similar to a scream.

Benedict looked at Violet. She blinked several times. Her long eyelashes swaying widely displayed “shock” amongst her scarce emotions.

Her hand reached out to her brooch and gripped it tightly. “Who... and where... is the culprit...?” she asked in a low voice, still gripping it and not letting go, “Who... and... where?”

Her tone was an absolute zero.

It was so low and cold it went to the point of making whoever listened to it hallucinate that their temperature had dropped for a second. The air about her was bizarre, further enhanced by her usual robotic aspect.

Only one person moved within that freezing atmosphere. “V,” echoed the affectionate nickname by which Benedict alone called her.

Violet turned her head to the side.

“It’s okay.” That was a tone so gentle it was unimaginable coming from Benedict. “I’ll do something about this no matter what.”

Those words were almost like the ones that a true older brother would tell his younger sister.

Violet’s eyelashes once again flapped flutteringly. “I will do it.”

“You can’t. If we’re doing something, we’ll do it all together. Your plans for later gonna be okay?”

“The plans... No problem; Major will understand. Besides, Major would probably order me to rescue President Hodgins and Lux.”

Perhaps unamused by Violet’s attitude in demonstrating unwavering trust, Benedict ruffled her hair roughly. “Ah, that so?”

Her feathery, wavy streaks expanded even more. Unlike earlier, Violet protested with a “please stop” using her normal voice. The instability that had given a glimpse of her former self as a girl soldier was concealed and everyone in the surroundings exhaled relieved sighs.

“Hey, enough; I’m gonna ask about the rest. Anthony’s troubled, ain’t he?”

Having her shin kicked, Violet finally nodded.

Anthony resumed speaking, “The perpetrator is the Salvatore Postal Company. Its president who has the looks of a vampire and his followers dressed in black did this to the office… I tried to notify the military police with a detailed report of the circumstances, but they would not listen. It seems Salvatore has enormous support. I can’t think of anything other than information manipulation.”

Meaning that Hodgins and Lux had been taken by Salvatore and their whereabouts were unknown. It would seem that the employees left behind were first and foremost concentrating themselves on digesting the situation.

“When departing, President Hodgins told us, ‘I leave the rest to you’.”

“I’m so glad! They’re okay for now, huh!” Cattleya patted her own chest and welled up with tears.

“Salvatore’s the place that dispatches those postmen with black uniforms? If I’m not wrong, their head office was in Leiden, yeah? Those guys once went claiming a boundary to delivering territories, so I beat them into a pulp. Could it be… this was my fault?”

“Eh, what? The name sounds like a tongue-twist so I can’t remember just by hearing it one time. Salva… Sal… Salfa…”

“'Salvatore’, Cattleya.”

Imitating Violet, who pronounced it slowly, Cattleya uttered it as well, “'Salvatore’, 'Salvatore’… okay. Gotta be able to say it right. They’re the ones we’re knocking off into hell, after all. Well, when does the blood festival start? Of course, we’ll settle the accounts, right? We’ll go save the president and Lux, right?”

It was a crude statement, yet the people present nodded at Cattleya’s suggestion with an aspect that bore no sense of displacement whatsoever.

“Please pummel them.”

Benedict broke into a villainous smile at Anthony’s request. “Oh. We’ll do that. Old Man will be fine even on his own but we gotta save the midget.” Benedict vigorously hit his own chest with his fist.

Anthony let out a breath of relief at that attitude. “You three, what should we do, then? Should we call over the other employees? The Salvatore Postal Company owns countless branch offices, even abroad. Is this all right?”

Violet said after raising her hand, “We shall seize them simultaneously. In the national offices, there should be a spot by the windows with nothing but the reception desk. The three of us will take it over… However, the priority is to strike the head office first. Let us suppose that the location the two were kidnapped to is where the leader is. Depending on whether the people at work recruited as combatants are available, please notify them that we are seizing our neighbor agency, the Salvatore Postal Company. Hold a transmission for the combatant employees to grasp the entirety of the situation. We will entrust the information convergence… to you, Anthony.”

“Understood, Violet.”

She was the expected of a former warrior. With that, the chain of command was made clear.

Looking at Violet, Benedict asked, “V, ain’t you kinda coming back to being a soldier?”

Violet had on the same composed expression as always, yet the things she said were uncouth.

“I am not. However, counterattack for justifiable motives is permitted even during travels. We are merely going to resolve a quarrel between fellow post offices. The third floor is the one burning, right?”

Violet had a reason for confirming that.

   The trio stood in front of a thick iron door inserted unnaturally in the red brick wall at the back of the building. As Benedict squatted on the spot and dug up the ground, a small box covered in dirt appeared within not even a few minutes’ time. Inside it was a bronze key. Once he reverently brought it into the keyhole, the door greeted the visitors while ringing out a rusty sound. They took a built-in lantern and went down the stairs in the thin darkness. Soon, they arrived to their destination.

The basement illuminated by the faint light stored equipment that should not possibly be gathered in an ordinary company. They were firearms, swords, spears, axes, bows, shields and other fighting tools of all kinds. Even if that were the president’s hobby, such assortment of goods was not something an amateur could attain.

“He saw something like this coming and was getting himself ready, huh. He’s got actual self-awareness that people have a grudge against him,” Benedict said as if in admiration.

“Ah~! President got the tonfa that I said I wanted! The whip too!”

“One fist’s more than enough for you, ain’t it? Don’t go taking any more dangerous weapons other than that. V, what’cha picking? We got this opportunity so I’m gonna take the ones I’ve never used.”

“I...” Looking around the hidden weapons of the CH Postal Company, Violet reached a hand out to something wrapped in a tattered rag set against the farthest wall. “I have decided that this will be my weapon. Benedict, Cattleya.” Violet raised the object that was as tall as her with hand movements that did not allow one to perceive its weight. “Let’s go as discreetly as possible.”

The three stared at each other in silence for a moment.

“Impossible, ain’t it? I’m pissed.”

“Impossible, isn’t it? With this group, that is.”

“So that is really the case.”

As the result of a discussion, they arrived at the conclusion that leaving the enemies half-dead without killing anyone was passable.

   Salvatore Rinaudo stared down at Claudia Hodgins. The person he detested was currently on an imported bear leather carpet of his personal choice, feeble and with wrists tied.

They were in a room encircled with black furnishings. The fact that said room was decorated with the personality of its owner was apparent one way or another. There were portraits of himself and bookshelves with double glass doors that did not seem to be opened often. There were also butterfly specimens and vases filled to the brim with fresh white flowers. Quiet violin music was playing from a gramophone, but it did not relieve the restless atmosphere in the slightest. Having her cheek punched and swelled, Lux Sibyl was seated on a chair, but one of Salvatore’s underlings had a gun thrust at her head.

Lux was constantly concerned about the outdoors. From the balcony, she could see Hodgins’s office at just the same height in the far distance. Black smoke rising from it, the structure of the CH Postal Company’s headquarters and of that building were awfully similar.

There was one more thing to note about the balcony. It was the artillery that seemed unlikely to have been placed there as an antique.

“Shall I tell you the reason why I despise you?” He stretched his arm as though to embrace Lux, caressing her, who had her right cheek swollen, almost as though soothing a pet cat.

As the cheek that had been hit still throbbed, Lux shuddered as if in pain upon the touch.

“Above all, it’s you yourself. You were born to a well-off merchant family, and used to belong to Leidenschaftlich’s army. Even though you were promoted up to the rank of major, you quit the military immediately after the Great War ended and founded a post office next, succeeding splendidly at it. People like that do exist, huh? The kind that can carry out anything just fine no matter what they do. In most cases, they stomp over others’ efforts with the sole of their shoes. And with a nonchalant face, to boot. I may have all this, but I’m one of the people who face hardships, so I detest those like you.”

“If me being superior is a sin, then go complain to God.”

“My second reason for hating you is that you rebel against the principles and rules that our predecessors established. ‘The CH Postal Company delivers to anywhere’? You make me sick.”

Hodgins shot Salvatore’s hand a blazing glare. “High quality at a low price for the costumers... That’s the basics of business, isn’t it?”

“Won’t you just crush those who can’t do the same if you turn this into a standard?”

“You get tripped up because you sit on your hands like that. Y’know, I just happened to think back when I was a soldier that a post office like this would be great and am simply making it into a reality. Letters that can be sent to any sort of battlefield. Postmen who can deliver them. Auto-Memories Dolls who can come to you if you so wish, even if you live at the heart of a sea of trees. What’s so bad about doing something I like with my own money?”

“There are still other bad things... What’s that building? Isn’t it almost like claiming that you’re going to replace the Salvatore Postal Company? The fact that only the weather face stands high up is also irritating.”

Salvatore’s hand moved from her cheek to her silver hair, which emitted a glossy luster.

“Don’t touch my secretary... Yeah, that’s right, I declared war on you. I’ve known you before getting into the industry. You’re all over the country I protected, doing stuff that doesn’t favor it.”

“What, for example?”

A bundle of hair picked by Salvatore’s fingers flowed in-between them, producing a smooth sound.

“The fact that you’ve been selling weapons behind the face of post office... You were selling national weaponry abroad, weren’t you?”

“We’re a postal company that has gentleness and courtesy as our selling points, so we do deliver anything that people request. However, I don’t recall delivering anything to the North.”

“That’s not the issue. Even if you didn’t sell anything to them when battles were going on, it takes just a bit of thinking to figure that this kind of stuff makes rounds, right? It was so unbearably weird... How come the enemy had weapons made in Leidenschaftlich? How come my comrades were getting shot by the enemy with them and dying...? I finally got to investigate that mystery after the war.”

Lux’s had her hair forcefully pulled and her neck bent backwards. Her scarf was taken off, her collarbone peeking from underneath her blouse.

Salvatore took the gun from his underling and pointed it at her chest. “If you know this much, you also know that part of my proceedings went to the military, don’t you? It’s not something that I alone wished for. Some people from your country, which you’d devoted your life to, merely wanted to increase their retirement pay a little. Isn’t that a commonplace story? Can’t you drop the moralist act? It disgusts me.”

“I’m no moralist—hey... how many times do I have to tell you not to touch...”

“Claudia, it’s not like you have a respectable life style either, is it? You wagered your whole fortune on war gambles and earned a large sum, wasn’t that it? Funds gathered from gambling are a hotbed for underground organizations and black market groups. With those funds, they sell off weapons, drugs and abused women and children. Even if you’re on the side that just milked it out, from the moment you placed a bet, you also made rounds and became someone’s assailant.”

“That’s why I said... I’m no moralist! I did all of it because I wanted to. You and I are both pitch-black at heart. But y’know, my secretary over there is a respectable girl. Didn’t you hear when I told you not to touch my secretary?! If you get anxious unless you’re touching something, just hit me or whatever!”

Perhaps because such statements rubbed him the wrong way, Salvatore did as Hodgins proposed, leaving Lux and kicking Hodgins’s face with his shin. Crimson hair swaying, Hodgins collapsed onto the floor.

Regardless, he grinned. “Thanks; should I take my clothes off while we’re at it? It’d get you excited, right?”

Salvatore grabbed Hodgins’s collar with rage. “How filthy. Your company is your human nature itself. I’m a victim. I want you to give me back the clients, routes and everything that you’ve stolen from me. I think being a soldier suited you better than being a businessman. Lying on the ground like this is fitting of you. Why... I’m just going to have you write your name on a document. Promise not to trespass my routes... It’s hard to do stuff with you loitering around. Lots of stuff, you see.” He let go abruptly, Hodgins’s face banging onto the floor.

“President!” Lux’s tear-mixed voice leaked.

Hodgins immediately raised his head and smiled at Lux. He went as far as winking at her.

Salvatore harshly told his underling to call over the official scrivener who would bear witness to their contract. He most likely intended to crush Hodgins’s post office through leaving behind a legal document with unequal contents.

“Tepid; you’re tepid.” Hodgins’s tongue licked off the blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. “Compared to back in the battlefields, you really are dull...” As he coughed curt and subtly, his voice reached Salvatore. “My company isn’t just mine.” Hodgins looked out the window. He checked if something was coming and waited for it.

   “Salvatore Postal Company identified ahead,” Violet whispered.

Benedict was driving his motorcycle, Cattleya behind him. Holding onto Cattleya’s shoulders, Violet was standing on the edge of the passenger seat. Running through the cityscape in the early afternoon, the motorcycle carried not only three people but also uncovered armament.

“Hey~, there’s a huge tacky cannon in the balcony~.”

“All~ right, I was thinking about forcing our way through the front gate but change of plans. V, go off on that balcony,” Benedict said with a lightheartedness that one would invite another to go shopping with.

“Understood. Cattleya, please give me support.” Violet took into her hands a thick, long cylindrical object that had been placed on the motorcycle’s luggage carrier. It was something that could be called both a rifle and a rocket launcher. She rested it on her shoulder atop the running vehicle and determined her target.

Once Cattleya clung to her legs as to secure her body, Violet shot without mercy. Explosion sounds echoed throughout the city of Leiden for the second time that day.

“Impact confirmed.”

Pigeons fled into the sky, the townspeople darting their eyes about in search for the source of the noise. Meanwhile, the motorcycle that the trio was riding on gradually drew closer to the Salvatore head office.

“Sca~ry! But ama~zing! I also wanna shoot tha~t!” Cattleya shouted in joy upon seeing the balcony destructed.

“Won’t let ya no matter what.”

“You cannot no matter what.”

Benedict and Violet shook their heads in sync. Both comprehended that it would be dangerous to let such a naïve woman hold onto firearm.

“What’s with that~?! I also wanna go wild big time~! Isn’t it okay?!”

“Then, let Cattleya be the first to charge in. Please be contented with that.”

“What’re you deciding on your own? The first at anything’s gotta be me.”

“You follow me from behind. ‘Cause the one who’ll save our captive princess of a president is going to be me. A~hn, wait for me, President! Where are you!?”

“You... As if such a huge dude could be a princess. What kinda princess is that?”

“If you were as tall as the President, you wouldn’t have to wear those heeled shoes, huh.”

“You’re wrong! That’s not why I wear them! It’s because they’re cool! You... Imma make you cry later! I’m dropping by your place today, so get ready for it!”

“Yo... Yo-Yo... You idiot! What’re you saying in front of Violet?!”

Silently listening to the exchange between the two, Violet slowly took from the luggage carrier the handle of the weapon jutting out of the tattered cloth. “Then, I shall take this opportunity and go.”

They had no idea what opportunity she was taking, yet Violet nimbly jumped midair after saying nothing but that. As she landed on the ground, the motorcycle also stopped right in front of the head office with good timing upon scoring an ostentatious drift.

“Here I go, Major.”

The one taken into Violet’s blue eyes was the Salvatore Postal Company – a building that looked exactly like the CH Postal Company. Although it was a weekday, a “closed” sign hung on the door and five postmen clad in black frock coats stood by the entrance smoking cigarettes.

The stunning woman, the man mounted on a motorcycle and the beauty behind him appeared before their eyes. Ashes fell down in lieu of their surprise at the mystery trio.

“Wh-Who’re you?!”

While the men froze on the spot at her exposed unpainted face and moonlight-colored hair, Violet swiftly tore off the tattered cloth wrapped around the weapon in her hands. A battle-axe of a size unfit for swinging around in a city road revealed itself.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance. I am an Auto-Memories Doll from the CH Postal Company; my name is Violet Evergarden.”

The name of the battle-axe wielded by that woman as ominously beautiful as a witch was Witchcraft. It had a silver blade, and the red rain that it dyed itself in from the number of people it had killed was a manifestation of its ill-omened existence.

“Apologies for you are in the middle of work, but could you allow us upstairs? Ever since our company’s president and secretary disappeared into your agency, we have not known of their whereabouts.”

As she held onto it, illuminated by the afternoon sunlight, her frame gave off quite a sense of misplacement.

“If you will not listen to our request, we shall exercise brute force based on the guiding precepts of our company.”

But as she wielded it, her figure looked appropriate. Rather, it was the contrary.

Raising the gigantic battle-axe blithely, Violet pointed the blade at the men. Instead of opening their mouths, the men took pistols out of their coats and pants and aimed them at Violet.

“The guys from the CH Postal Company are here! Don’t let them pass no matter what!”

“Violet!” Cattleya’s scream reverberated through the city roads.

However, the beautiful Auto-Memories Doll moved at the same time as the opponents readied themselves, dealing a preemptive strike in the blink of an eye. “Negotiations broken.”

A single blow from the battle-axe brushed away the postmen. It was an attack that did not cut them and merely struck their vitals using blunt weapon essentials, yet it caused three of the men to hit their heads against the outer wall of their company and collapse.

The remaining two men, who had dodged the appearance and disappearance of the axe, frantically aimed at Violet and pulled the triggers. Without any change in her facial expression, Violet twisted the battle-axe around and repelled the bullets with its blade. Switching hands, she pointed the tip of the handle at the opponents. It produced a ringing noise.

“Please forgive my rudeness.”

The flower bud ornament decorating the tip of the handle flew out together with a long chain. It knocked the two men’s pistols off their hands. She did not give the men, who held their hands down due to the collision, any opening to straighten their postures. This time, Violet rammed the battle-axe’s arm against the surface of the building’s wall and anchored it. While extending the chain and spinning midair, she dealt a flying kick to the face of one of them, made his face into her stepping stone and roundhouse-kicked the man next to him. There was no hesitation or mercy in her series of actions.

“Bu-But I was supposed to be the first one!”

“That was me!”

Indignant, Cattleya took a sack fastened to the luggage carrier, which contained her weapons. After thorough indecision between the tonfa, whip and other armory, the one she had chosen were iron knuckles.

Before anyone noticed, Benedict’s hands were gripping two pistols. He disabled the safety catch with practiced hand movements. “V! Don’t get too serious! If you’re angry, I can get angry for you!”

As if the people inside the Salvatore Postal Company had foreseen that someone would come raid it, postmen peeked out from the windows of the floors above with rifles in position. Bullets from Benedict’s pistols pierced their arms as he spoke, creating a rain of blood splashes.

“If this is the emotion called wrath, I want to rid myself of it quickly. Cattleya.” Violet pointed with her finger at the rocket launcher that had no more remaining ammo to Cattleya, who had put on her iron knuckles.

Agilely grabbing its handle with one hand, Cattleya threw it with heightened rotation speed after drawing it back once with much vigor. “One, two, the~re!”

Together with her adorable shout, the rocket launcher struck the postmen who had turned up in the upstairs floor, breaking through the window glass. Its destructive power was the same as a bullet shell.

The one who had flung it jumped up and down on the spot as if delighted. “Kyah~! I hit them~!”

It was not a deed that an average person, let alone a young woman, could normally manage. She was the possessor of tremendously strong arms.

“As expected of the Stupid Woman – or more like the Stupidly Strong Woman.”

“Shut up, Platform Shoes Man.”

“Ah, you on?”

“What, are you?”

The ringing of the chain on Violet’s battle-axe Witchcraft drowned out the duo’s little quarrel. One of the men screamed and threw himself out the window, falling onto a flowerbed in front of the company.

“Benedict, Cattleya. By the looks of it, the President and Lux are unmistakably inside this building. President Hodgins told me that he imitated Salvatore’s agency when our company’s office was under construction. If that is the case, then the highest position is probably the uppermost floor – the third floor. I am counting on you to follow the procedures.”

The two nodded in reply to Violet’s words.

“Let’s kick their asses at once and go celebrate.”

“We’re bothering the neighbors, after all.”

Before anyone realized, the city had gone quiet.

The Salvatore Postal Company was located in a completely ordinary shopping street in the city of Leiden. However, the passersby had fled within a few minutes, and the shopkeepers of the nearby buildings, as well as the buildings next to those, had closed their shops’ windows – the so-called display windows – and pulled down the iron shutters.

The fast action stemmed from their understanding that the city had become involved in the maelstrom of a fight. It was a particularity of citizens from a country that had long been shutting off invaders ever since its foundation. The people were silently waiting for the conflict to end.

“Well, then, let’s go in.” Violet’s figure as she gave the command with a clear voice was different from usual.

   Inside the chairman’s room at the top floor of the Salvatore Postal Company, the scenery visible from the balcony – an autumn sky where cirrocumulus clouds drifted high up and Leiden’s cityscape – had looked like it was inserted in a picture frame. Yet such beauty was something of a few seconds before, and now the artillery enshrined in it had received great damage from a sudden explosion attack, smoke rising from it.

Once ornamented with delicate sculptures, the rails were crumbling, and the balcony was in a state where one could fall straight to the ground if they put a foot on it. If the artillery were loaded with ammo, it was most likely not the only thing that would have been destroyed.

In that situation of settled chaos, Salvatore Rinaudo’s pale face went even paler and his mouth fell open as he spaced out, while Claudia Hodgins bit the inside of his cheeks to kill off his own laughter and trembled in opposition.

“What have they done?”

“Ahah—AHAHAHAHAH! Aah, I can’t anymore! Can’t hold back! This is the best!” Hodgins convulsed with laughter upon looking at Salvatore’s face. “What you so surprised about, Salvatore? Isn’t that what you did to us? Well, but... you wouldn’t think we’d do the exact same thing as you, huh! There’s no helping it! Ahahahah!”

Even Lux, who had all along been shaking with a darkened face, lit up with a sparkle of hope and laughed a little.

“Is this the work of you people from the CH Postal Company?”

“Who else is there? Our corporate philosophy is ‘an eye for an eye’.” Hodgins was in such a good mood that he seemed like he could break into song right then.

A few of Salvatore’s underlings went down to the floors below. Gunshots and screams soon echoed again. The fact that the screams had come from Salvatore’s subordinates increased his anxiety and impatience.

“They’re doing this even though you might be injured... What kind of training do you use on them?”

“Basically a principle of liberalism. Most of the personnel I gathered back when I was building my company happen to be guys with nowhere to go that I coaxed and took in... Don’t know if my preferences are biased, but it turned out that lots of them were absurdly strong fellows. The ones who’re here right now are definitely two of the Auto-Memories Dolls that were off-duty and... probably a postman that was scheduled to return to town today. They’re elite of the finest kind even among us. Salvatore, since it’s you, weren’t you supposed to investigate me through and through?”

“Your company’s employees are former soldiers and mercenaries, right? If that’s the case, so are our postmen...”

“They aren’t just former soldiers and mercenaries. Benedict is an ex-mercenary who had the nickname of ‘Battle-Hungry Freak’ in another continent. Cattleya was a boxer. She has arms so strong that no one can beat her by using force. And that beautiful girl whose name you can even say everyone knows in the Auto-Memories Doll business... my adorable Little Violet, used to be Leidenschaftlich’s most powerful female soldier. It’s in the past, though.” Hodgins smiled at Lux. “By the way, my secretary is a former demigoddess.”

“‘Leidenschaftlich’s most powerful female soldier’?”

“Didn’t your patrons tell you anything? Well, she was treated as a secret in a way, so it isn’t impossible for civilians not to know about her. The military went as far as creating a troop just for her and made her work for them, but they never gave her recognition or ranks. She didn’t have a surname back then and it seems people just called her ‘Violet’. My friend found and raised her... She was the leading figure of the Great War in the shadows.”

Salvatore reminisced to the photos of Hodgins’s employees whom he had made his underlings investigate. One that had been engraved in his mind remarkably vividly was a beautiful woman. She was a girl of exquisite, suave facial features. Even if one declared her to have been the strongest female soldier, nobody could believe it right away.

“How did you make a woman like that yours?!”

“She’s not mine.” Hodgins smirked defiantly. “And she doesn’t belong to the military anymore either. From the very start, she... Let’s stop here; telling this story to you is a waste.”

The battle’s tune gradually grew closer to the top floor. By the looks of it, the fuss was escalating to a direction where even angry yelling was ensuing. It seemed the owner of the voice was a young woman. Even amidst gunshots, the conversation between those two people did not cut short.

Hodgins’s smirk deepened, Salvatore’s face becoming grim.

“You guys, give polite greetings when coming in.”

Salvatore’s underlings readied their guns all at once. The tension reached its peak, everyone inside the room paying attention to the door. However, it was time.

“Lux, please cover your eyes,” a beautiful voice that did not match such a place, which had converted into a battlefield, could be heard from behind the staff members.

A black lump jumped from the balcony. It looked like a beast at first. A stunning and terrifying beast that moved its limbs gracefully and trampled over its enemies.

No matter how much the “hunters” who had taken notice of the beast’s existence made bullets rain on it, its feet did not halt by a single inch as it bared its fangs. It steadfastly ascertained the battlefield even as it danced in the air, wielding its weapon with astonishing precision, bringing everyone to the ground.

“A-Aaaah!!”

The arm released from the battle-axe pierced and gouged the shoulder of the man who had been thrusting a gun at Lux. The beast swung the battle-axe and stationed Hodgins and Lux to behind itself.

Salvatore took a few steps back, and exactly two factions stood in position separated at his right and left sides.

“Major Hodgins, we apologize for the wait.”

“I’m always telling you that it’s ‘President’, aren’t I, Little Violet?”

The beast – rather, the woman – shot a cold glance at the one that she perceived as the enemy.

“You—What are you?” Salvatore vented his confusion at the sudden intruder who held onto the completely red battle-axe.

She had white and smooth skin like that of porcelain dolls. Her blue eyes were as glass balls. Her hair of gold seemed to waft with a sweet fragrance. The girl was beautiful to a rare extent, but that was not the only thing that made one’s eyes widen at her.

A living legend that Salvatore did not know was standing there.

“Violet.”

The loveliness he had seen in the picture was concealed by a shadow, a turbulent atmosphere similar to madness surrounding her instead. An air of lethargic strategizing as to which of them would move first flowed by, but the stagnancy soon shattered.

“PRESIDENT———! LUX——!”

“OLD MAN!”

Callings could be heard in unison from outside the room. The massive door was then broken through as if it were as thin a paper sheet. The one who stepped onto the door as it collapsed with a tremor and entered the room while holding by the collar an enemy that she had defeated with her silver iron knuckles was Cattleya.

“Aa~hn! You two~! Found yoou!” She tossed the prey that she had nearly killed toward Salvatore and his group. Being able to fling a human being as if they were an object meant her arms were simply that great as blunt weapons.

Following her, a gun barrel appeared first, and after bullet sounds ensued, Benedict revealed himself. It was a shot meant for delivering the finishing blow to Cattleya’s offensive.

Shooting the legs of all the men in black except Salvatore, Benedict clicked his tongue at the gruesome scene inside the room. “What’s this? Hasn’t V eaten out most of them?” Together with a sigh, he threw away the gun he had been holding, taking out another one. “Old Man~, we’ve left only this important-looking old dude~.”

“Lux! Violet is protecting you, right? President! You’re tied up!” Cattleya ran towards Hodgins, who lay on the floor. Without cutting them with a knife, she ripped off the ropes that had been restricting him using the iron knuckles and embraced him boldly.

Hodgins patted her back with taps and hugged her lightly. “Sorry, Cattleya. Didn’t my adorable young lady get hurt?”

“I didn’t!”

“Atta girl.” Hodgins left a kiss on Cattleya’s forehead with a pop.

Cattleya’s cheeks flushed red and she turned her back to him looking embarrassed, stamping her feet onto her happiness on the spot.

Benedict tore Cattleya away from Hodgins and stood between them. Contrary to being angry, he aggressively hit Hodgins from face to torso, confirming that the latter was alive.

“Ouch, ouch, what’s this? A new way of expressing love?”

“You’re fine, huh, Captive Princess?”

“You were worried about me, Darling?” Hodgins merely replied with frivolous talk to Benedict’s cynicism, looking delighted.

Briefly biting his lip, Benedict faced the ground. Hodgins had a feeling that the eyes Benedict had directed at him before casting them downward were moist, and was inwardly surprised.

——Huh, could it be he really was worried?

“Hey, Darling. Benedict.”

His sandy-blond hair rubbed into a mess, Benedict finally resisted energetically as if to say, “Quit it”. Nothing that resembled tears could be seen in his eyes anymore.

“Who’s that ‘Darling’, Old Man...?!”

“Could it be you were pretty worried about me?”

He was fully convinced that Benedict would deny it.

“I was. Don’t make me.” Yet the latter directed his sky-blue eyes straight at him and said, “I was hella worried. Don’t ever make me worry again no matter what!”

As it was much too blunt, after Hodgins was taken aback, his face slowly turned red. He had anticipated they would come save him, but right now was his first time learning he was cherished to that extent.

“Ah... that so? S-Sorry, okay?”

“Damn... Don’t go getting kidnapped when you’ve got that huge body! Is Captive Princess #2 all good?”

“Fairly. Little Lux needs first-aid...!”

Violet undid Lux’s binding. The latter’s body, which had been trembling in fear, and the sound of her heartbeats, which had grown noisy, were regaining their calm.

“Thank you, Violet.” Enduring the pain in her cheek, Lux smiled at the friend who had come for her rescue. “I thought you were some noble prince.”

Violet furrowed her eyebrows as if troubled. She then resentfully held Lux’s hands and helped her up. “My apologies for not being able to protect you. But I will not let you go through terrifying times anymore.” Just like a knight, she made Lux retreat to behind her.

Albeit gripping his gun, Salvatore remained unable to fire a single shot at the mere three people who had taken control of his company. As he shifted his gaze to the side, he could see his underlings collapsed and moaning in the open corridor. “There was supposed to be... fifty of them,” once he opened his mouth, his voice shook.

“Ah? Your minions? Even if the numbers are big, it’s no use if the quality sucks. Actually, were there that many of them? I was counting, but... Stupid Woman, how many did you take down?”

“Stupid Benedict! Erm... ten. I probably beat up about ten people.”

“I got twenty. The rest was V, huh?”

“I simply came here by climbing the outer walls, so other than the beginning and now...”

“Didn’t anyone run away? The math ain’t adding up.”

They were chatting carefreely, yet the contents of the conversation were the number of people they had defeated. In addition, there was an overwhelming difference in combat power, for they were unharmed and not even their clothes had scratches. That was also a difference in corporation power.

Biting his lip as if in frustration, Salvatore barked at Hodgins, “They came late, and that’s why you’ve lost! I already had you write the contract! The official scrivener went to submit the contract we exchanged to the government office so that it’d serve as a demonstration of formal legitimacy. It’s probably already been accepted... Take your leave as you please. But I’m billing you for the internal damage caused by your subordinates and the injuries they inflicted on mine!”

Salvatore had intended to wreak both psychological and bodily pain on Hodgins for a while, instilling terror on him and making him lose the will to fight back, but now he had given up on it. What he desired most – the unequal contract – was in a state of legal effectiveness. As long as he had it, regardless of what anyone could say, the fact that Salvatore had the advantage would not change.

“Salvatore Rinaudo. What’re you on about?” However, Hodgins had a facial expression that denounced he was helplessly puzzled.

“As I said, your company can no longer enter our routes...”

“So?”

“No matter how much brute force we used, that’s nothing in the face of a validated official document!”

“Again... so what? The papers were indeed filed. Seems like they also were submitted before help came. What of it?” Claudia Hodgins, president of the CH Postal Company and former major from Leidenschaftlich’s army, generally had an easygoing personality, as well as a cheerful and frivolous attitude. However, he was now glaring at Salvatore without breaking into a smile, letting a glint shine sharply in his eyes. “Isn’t it a matter that’ll be solved if we crush down your company?” He rolled up his shirt’s sleeves and took off a wristwatch that one could tell was a high-grade product. Next, he squeezed the strap with his fingers so that the watch’s case would be on his knuckles.

Anybody who was used to fighting knew. If one was battling without a weapon, the object called wristwatch was an overly useful thing.

“Salvatore, if only you hadn’t hit Lux, I wouldn’t be this angry.”

Salvatore fired at Hodgins when the latter swung up his hand, yet it did not even graze him. Oddly enough, the bullet that had failed to kill a person shot through the middle of the forehead of Salvatore’s portrait sitting inside the room.

“S-Sto...” The word that Salvatore uttered were the end of it.

The fist swung by a 194cm-tall man who weighted 85kg struck into Salvatore’s face with a wind-cutting sound. As his nose was broken without mercy, Salvatore shed a large amount of blood. A few of his teeth tumbled onto the high-quality carpet as well. He had convulsions for a moment, but eventually became completely motionless.

“Did you kill him?”

At Benedict’s question, Hodgins put his ear against Salvatore’s chest, shaking his head after simply checking the other’s heartbeat. “He’s alive. Let’s leave him be.” By the instant he turned around, Hodgins had gone back to his usual self. “Everyone, you did well. I’m so happy; my employees sure are the best. And I’m also the best for having chosen you!” Hodgins sang praises gesturing exaggeratedly, embracing the employees who had come for his aid all at once. He then came closer to Lux’s side, planting a kiss on the cheek that had not been punched. “I’ve made you go through a lot, huh. I’m really sorry, Little Lux.”

“No, I’m the president’s secretary, after all.”

Seeing as she did not appear too bashful, that sort of kiss was likely not a rare action. As the thread of tension broke, Lux crumbled and shed large tears. Hodgins frantically apologized again.

“That’s not it... I’m frustrated... It’d be great if I were like everyone else, and also had strength to protect the president. If I hadn’t been taken hostage, things wouldn’t have turned out like...”

Cattleya gently caressed Lux’s arching back as she was unable to stop crying. “What’re you saying? Lux, you have it good exactly because you’re a normal fragile girl. Ah, but it’s not like I’m not normal either. I’m strong and pretty, but I’m a super normal girl...”

“Cattleya, what you say is inconsistent.” Violet handed Lux a silk handkerchief.

Perhaps due to their heights being about the same, despite their faces not resembling one another and their body types being different, the figure of the tree as they nestled close to each other strangely made them look like sisters.

“Seeing girls huddling together is kinda nice, right, Benedict?”

“Old Man, just hurry and do something about this place.”

“Should we huddle too? Shall we?”

“Don’t play around and give the instructions!”

As Benedict dealt him a strong lateral kick to the rear, Hodgins ceased joking. “Eeh~, then, all dismissed...! That’s what I’d like to do but I have a request. Anyone who doesn’t have any plans for later, please help me destroy Salvatore’s company!”

“He~y, Old Man.”

“What is it, Mr. Benedict?”

“You haven’t checked things out so you don’t know what’s been made of it, but we left the international offices to the rest of the fighter staff. The guys who stayed at the main office contacted them. Since it’s those fellows... they’ll take them out without worries.”

“Amazing! But we don’t have fighter staff! It’s not like I hired you with that intention! Well, since there have to be people who can go into battlefields, I didn’t not have that intention, but...”

“From the very start, that was our purpose, President Hodgins. So that there will not be such happenings after this, we believed that laying waste to everything and thoroughly annihilating them was a good plan.”

“Scary, scary. Your expression is getting scary too, Little Violet. Smile! It’s ruining your cute face!”

“President~! I want you to buy me a new choker after we’re done. Look~! The pearls on it got torn off... It was my favorite too.”

“Okay, Cattleya. Be it chokers, clothes or anything, this uncle will buy it for you!”

“Hum... President. What should I do?” the non-fighting staff member Lux tightly clutched her skirt, looking nervous.

“Little Lux, let’s go back to the head office. I’ll have you be treated there too. It’s all right; everyone in the head office contacted the other employees, so there should be people gathering there. It’s safer than you coming with us. Benedict, take Little Lux to the head office, and then regroup.”

“Roger; leave some for me to mess with too.”

“We aren’t sharing cake slices... Now, Little Violet and Cattleya are going with me to crush the branch offices just like this. Let’s decide on the rules for one. No hitting girls. Hitting bastards is fine.”

“Understood.”

“‘Ka~y.”

The members of the CH Postal Company continued their strategy meeting without paying mind to the people that they had defeated lying on the floor. When they were done at last, they exited the building while making so that those of Salvatore’s postmen who had stood up once again would be beyond recovery.

Lighting a cigarette, Hodgins started walking with it in his mouth, and everyone followed him as well.

On that day, within Leidenschaftlich, gunshots echoed throughout several areas of the capital Leiden, yet no one attempted to keep them under control. Additionally, the military police did not make a move regardless of how many reports it received.

   The nocturnal darkness deepened late into the night.

The lights were brightly lit in a bar at the corner of a business district. “Fully booked for the day,” said the clumsy letters on a paper pinned to the menu board in front of the shop. The figure of a seductive female dancer was drawn on said board. By the looks of it, that was a place where people enjoyed shows along with their meals.

The voices of people laughing pleasantly and lively music could be heard leaking from inside the bar. It seemed to be the feast of some company. The men and women were at a one-one ratio. Their ages varied and all of them differed in skin, hair and eye colors.

Even amongst them, there was an attention-catching few.

A young man was displaying splendid steps on a table with heeled boots that looked like womenswear. The dancers swayed their bodies together with him and danced purely as they pleased.

On another table, a beautiful woman was smiling while arm-wrestling with a man of fiendish facial features and plentiful muscles. Seeing as she twisted his arm in a matter of seconds, it could be that he let her win on purpose. However, the man who had lost rubbed his seemingly hurt arm with a strangely believable face.

A silver-haired young girl with a big gauze on her cheek was playing a card game with a blonde person of terribly tattered appearance. It was most likely poker. She looked troubled for not being able to read the other’s expression. While everyone else was emptying bottles of alcohol, only the two of them were making cups of tea into their nighttime company. Each was fixated with their own victory, playing in earnest.

“Ah~! I won~! I won enough to buy a kinda nice pair of shoes! Ah, Lux, aren’t those winning cards?”

“Women who can dance sure are great. V, you suck at playing this, don’t you?”

Benedict, who had had enough of dancing, and Cattleya, who had grown tired of arm wresting, came to sit at the peaceful table as if to intrude on it.

Lux put the cards that she had been hiding up to her lips on the table. “Want to quit poker, Violet?”

“That is right. The cards in our hands have been busted by a third party, after all.”

They did not have the will to get angry. If anything, Lux was so happy for being able to return to that trifling daily life with her companions that she wound up laughing. Perhaps due to the spot where she had been hit aching when she laughed, she arched her back with an “ow, ow, ow”.

“Are you okay? Is it not better for you to rest already...?”

“Yu~p, but I think it’s safer to be with everyone for the day... President Hodgins is here too so I can’t go home.”

Cattleya quickly reacted and looked at Lux’s direction with momentum. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve decided that I’ll be with the President today. See, it’s because the President’s home was in the company’s top floor. We have nowhere to sleep tonight, right? I also had that experience with being kidnapped... He was worried and got me a room at a hotel in the city. It seems President Hodgins will also be staying in it for a while. Until this mess is over, I’ll also be working from there. We’re going together today, so I have to wait for him.”

While Violet replied agreeably with a, “That is reassuring”, Cattleya became beet-red. One could tell from her face what she was imagining. She grabbed Lux’s arm and shook her violently. “You! Do you get what you’re saying?”

“E-Eeh? Our rooms are separated, y’know?”

“Cattleya, Lux is injured.”

“Not a chance. Dunno how many years it’ll last, but not even he is that shameless.”

“Hey! Don’t meddle into a girls’ talk!”

“Ah, you’ve said it. Then don’t barge into when I’m talking with the Old Man no matter what.”

Since another fight had decidedly began, as an accustomed form of coping, Violet and Lux left the two and started their conversation afresh.

“Speaking of which... Violet, are you okay? You’re dressed pretty cutely today... Could it be you were going to meet up with that person... with Mr. Major?”

The moment she received such question was exactly when Violet’s gaze had fixed on the bar’s entrance. “I am fine.”

Someone was heading her way.

Perhaps due to having come in a hurry, said person was out of breath. His sweat-dampened forehead was a proof of the efforts he had been spending until arriving there. He was caught by Hodgins and came to a halt, but even so, he aimed at and went toward her as fast as possible.

That person had soon spotted Violet from the bar’s entrance, and Violet had frozen in place the instant he had arrived as well. It was almost as if there were gravity between them that drew one to the other.

Violet stood up naturally and rushed to him.

——Ah, Violet.

Lux could tell.

——I see, so that’s how it is.

Anyone who was close by would be able to tell.

——The two of you are already like that.

After all, it was as though the air about her had changed completely the moment he had appeared.

“Colonel.”

The one standing there was Colonel Gilbert Bougainvillea from Leidenschaftlich’s army. Perhaps because he was on an off day, he wore only a jacket of fine tailoring and a shirt. Inquisitive stares from the people making a ruckus in the bar fell upon him all at once.

“Violet.”

After all, he was a man rumored within the company for moving the army in order to protect Violet. His existence was made known during the hijacking incident of the Intercontinental train, after which a year had passed not too long before. Of course, that was a story only told internally and Hodgins was publicly regarded as the main leader of such strategy.

The members of the postal company who had gathered up to save her had seen in person the man who came running while carrying her princess style. Back then, they had also witnessed Benedict being entrusted with Violet, his mouth open as if he had grown senile.

“Colonel, my apologies... I ended up breaking our arrangement.”

Her cottony hair was ruined. The outfit chosen for her and that her body was clad in had become like ragged cloths. Everything she had prepared for him had been reduced to misery today.

Nevertheless, seeing her dressed-up caused Gilbert’s heart to beat louder.

“You...”

“You look beautiful” was what he had started to say, but upon noticing a stare of pressuring quality to a fierce extent from the side, he trailed off.

Benedict seemed extremely unamused. He clicked his tongue as their eyes met.

“Anything the matter...?”

“Not really. There any law that says I can’t look at the bastard who snoops into V’s general area every once in a blue moon ever since that incident like he’s a rare sight?”

“You helped me out holding onto Violet back then. I’m grateful... And, I don’t know about any such law, but if it’s about putting up a watchdog act, I’m the one on top.”

Something like an electric shockwave ran between the two of them. Benedict remained not toning down his distrust regarding Gilbert until now, peeved by that man who seemed like he could become a love rival for Benedict’s significant other had he been in the same workplace as them.

“This was the curtain rise of their muddled battle!” just as the two had opened their mouths again, Hodgins cut in with a foolish commentary.

Silence. The two simultaneously glared at Hodgins as if looking at something deplorable.

Hodgins himself broke Gilbert and Benedict apart, coming in between them, putting his arms around each and laughing stridently, “Don’t fight for me! Man~, I wanted to try saying this once.”

“Shut up, Old Man!”

“Stay away, Hodgins. You’re reeking of booze.”

It was a conversation with a magnificent explosive power. By the looks of it, Gilbert and Benedict did not seem like they would get along, but their attitude towards Hodgins was similar.

“Old Man, tomorrow will be terrible for you if you drink too much. You’re at that age, aren’t you?”

“Darling... you’re saying that because you’re worried about me, right?”

“Hey, stop. Stop. I’m not a woman.”

As Benedict stepped away from Hodgins, who was attempting to give him a kiss, Gilbert and Violet were at last able to lock eyes with each other again. Violet had a face that denounced she had gone through a hellish time.

“Any injuries?”

“Minor ones. The same level as scratching a knee.”

“That’s good...” He was truly saying so from the bottom of his heart. Seeing Cattleya and Lux anxiously observing the two of them, Gilbert spoke further, “You too, any injuries? Aah... you need a medic.”

“No, no, I’m okay.”

Lux had already received treatment, yet it seemed like her wound might open the next day.

Perhaps always carrying it in his person, Gilbert took a fountain pen and small notebook from his jacket’s inner pocket, handing her a paper sheet that contained a certain address within Leiden. “This is the clinic where my home doctor is. You don’t need to pay if you give my name, so go there another day. You’ll probably need painkillers for a while. Even in the hotel you’re staying at, please give my name to the hotelman if you need anything. We’re on friendly terms, so he’ll treat you well.”

Lux acted uncertain when accepting the paper. “Ah. Thank you very much. You’re very generous... Could it be... that the hotel reservation... Mr. Bougainvillea, erm... Colonel Bougainvillea, was made by you?”

After glancing at Hodgins, who was entangling himself with Benedict, Gilbert nodded. “That thing asked me for it. I can’t say this aloud but I’ve also disposed of... the documents submitted to the government office in the name of your company. When I use my influence in places outside of my jurisdiction... I end up losing one card that I could otherwise use in the event of an emergency, but...” Perhaps as if remembering something, he furrowed his brows a little and chuckled. “Hodgins took care of Violet. I also won’t spare any efforts for you all in case something happens. If there’s any worrisome matter, it can even be through Violet, but do tell me.”

“Y-Yes.”

Cattleya and Lux mutely let their cheeks dye pink. Was there any girl whose heart would not throb at Gilbert as he displayed adult-man-like reliance in a different way from Hodgins?

“Colonel, you’re so cool.”

“Colonel, you are wonderful.”

No, there was not.

For whatever reason, the two had their fingers interlaced in front of their chests and were striking the same pose.

Gilbert replied levelly, “You aren’t my subordinates so you don’t need to refer to me by my rank.”

Violet pulled the hem of Gilbert’s jacket ever so lightly. “Colonel, hum... would you like to sit down? You must be tired.”

“Aah, no. I’m sorry but I’m taking my leave. You too, Violet. The two are at the Bougainvillea house and we’re making them worry. I already contacted them to say I’d bring you back, so come along. It stopped by a place a little far away, but I have a carriage ready, so let’s walk there. Miss Lux. You... were together with Hodgins for today, right? Miss Cattleya, what about you? We can send you home if necessary.”

“Y-You know my name?! Mine?!”

“Of course; I heard it from Violet. So, what will you do?”

Perhaps due to extreme happiness at that, Cattleya slapped Violet’s back with quite strong vigor countless times, making merry. “I’m fine! I’ll be here with everyone until morning today!”

“It’s probably better if you’re in big numbers. Well, my apologies since we’re in the middle of a pleasant talk, but I’m taking her along. Thank you... for always being so close to Violet. Let’s meet again somewhere else. Please let me at least treat you to a meal.” Gilbert all too naturally took off his jacket and placed it over Violet’s shoulders. He began escorting her away just like that.

“Ah! Bastard! Hold on! V is my little sister part!”

“Everyone, good night. Benedict too.”

“Wait! V~! Hey—Old Man!”

Binding Benedict’s arms behind his back, Hodgins sent Violet a wink. It was true that he was drunk, but his tactic was probably to keep Benedict away from Gilbert. He might have been paying for the sin of making the two of them miss out on the time they had to spend with each other because of his kidnapping.

Hodgins and Gilbert merely exchanged short goodbyes such as, “I’ll call” and, “See you”.

“Benedict’s had an overwhelming defeat, huh.”

“Old Man!”

“Man, he’s rivaling you... but he’s also not.”

The two young women left behind spoke while still staring at the bar’s entrance.

“To be honest, the President told me a lot about Violet’s past after that incident, and I didn’t not wonder if someone like him was okay for her... but, when you meet him, y’know...”

“Yup, its different when you get to meet him, right?”

“It’s because he really did cherish her that he made many mistakes, did his best to take back a lot of things, and now they’re like this, huh,” Lux whispered, deep in thought.

   Treading through an autumn night in which the nocturnal winds were gelid robbed the two a little of the body heat provided by the warm interior of the bar. Violet, who Gilbert had put his jacket over, looked at him with only his shirt on as if to question him.

He soon noticed her gaze and their eyes met. He then smiled at her. “Aren’t you cold?”

Just from him simply throwing those words at her, as Violet was still unused to it, her heart raced. “No; Major, what about you?”

The times that the two of them met up were still at a point where they could be counted with one hand, and during such instances, the restraint brought about by his long absence would manifest itself in the form of agitation. From the perspective of others, that could almost not be perceived. After all, her facial expressions were generally emotionless.

“I’m fine. I’ve run around and sweated a lot today, so I’m still warm.”

“My apologies, Colonel.”

“It’s nothing to apologize for. I did that because I wanted to. Violet. It was also for Hodgins’s sake.”

“All right, Colonel.”

“Let’s walk a little slower. Once we get on the carriage, the way home will last a blink of eye.”

“Is that bad...?”

The one who had made the request was Gilbert, and the words Violet was about to say wound up dying out before they could take form. That was because he sweetly added, “I don’t have enough time with you”.

“All right, Major.”

Her eyes spoke more eloquently than her expressionless self. Violet’s blue orbs were glued to Gilbert’s emerald ones.

“I want to chat a little too. Is everything okay with that young man called Benedict?”

“By that, you mean...?”

“He seems to favor you.”

“He has another woman that he fancies. It seems they are in a relationship, and they themselves are hiding it but everyone around them knows.”

“That so?”

“Yes, he is... in an older brother-like... position regarding... my person, he told me.”

“Told you? That man?”

Their eye and hair colors were certainly similar, and the man could be said to be an androgynous beauty, but his speech and conduct were much too different from Violet’s.

“He himself was saying so.”

“Aah, he indeed called you his ‘little sister part’... Should I interpret that as him showing affection for you...? But it doesn’t look like we will get along very well.”

“Is that so?”

“It will probably be difficult.”

As Violet had heard the story of Hodgins and Gilbert’s past, she estimated that such assumption would be disproved. Gilbert and Hodgins were also a duo that one would not think got along well.

“It seems he’ll get in the way when I’m with you.”

Since Gilbert made a face as if he had swallowed a bitter-tasting bug, Violet did not voice her opinion in the end. “Major.”

“What is it?” As Violet called him, the middle of his brows immediately softened.

“If you had managed to meet with me as planned today, where did you intend to go?”

“Aah, I had actually made an arrangement for us to go horse-riding.”

“Horses.”

“You can ride army horses, and I think long rides aren’t bad if it’s on fine autumn weather days... Did you not like it?”

“Colonel, there is nothing that I dislike if I am in your company.”

“That answer makes me happy, but I do believe I want to learn about your tastes little by little. Kukuh.”

As Gilbert suddenly laughed aloud, Violet tilted her neck. “Is something the matter?”

“You... probably haven’t noticed it, but you’ve been mixing up ‘Major’ and ‘Colonel’ when referring to me.”

As he had been promoted from major to lieutenant-colonel and from lieutenant-colonel to colonel, it could be said that referring to Gilbert with a lower rank was terribly inappropriate.

Violet corrected her posture and apologized again, “I... am sorry. My apologies, Colonel.”

“No, that’s not it. I’m not angry... Ever since you were little, you used to call me that. The first word I heard from you was this one, too. I’m saying that if you can’t get used to it, I don’t mind the ‘Major’.”

“‘Colonel’... Colonel, I will not mistake it anymore.”

Her figure as she attempted to memorize it, in order not to forget it, was lovably stubborn. Gilbert caught a glimpse of her past self from that immature aspect of hers.

At the beginning, the two of them had had an inept exchange. Almost like how children would do it, they had told each other their names.

“Ma... jor.”

“Can you understand what I’m saying, Violet?”

“Major.”

After learning words and coming to know discipline, she had become his weapon.

“If that is Major’s order...”

“It’s not an order...”

“If... it is your desire...”

He had wound up loving the girl-weapon.

“Major’s eyes are here.”

“I wonder... what this is called.”

It had been a one-sided love.

“I will become your ‘shield’ and ‘weapon’.”

“I shall protect you.”

“Please do not ever doubt this. I am your ‘asset’.”

Even so, he had loved her.

“I love you!”

“I don’t want to let you die! Violet!”

“I love you, Violet.”

The girl-weapon had wept that she did not understand what she had been bestowed with.

“What is... ‘love’?”

No one had taught her about it.

“What is... ‘love’? What is... ‘love’? What is ‘love’?”

“I do not understand, Major...”

She had also not understood why he had said such a thing to her.

“What is... ‘love’?”

She had searched for the meaning of those words and for him, who had disappeared, encountering them by chance at last.

And so, they had reached the present time.

“Violet.” Gilbert took her artificial fingertips as she stood still.

Her index finger made screeching sounds.

“Since we’re at it, won’t you call me by my name?” He pointed her finger at himself.

The fingertips that used to be soft and have body temperature in the past did not anymore. The same applied to one of Gilbert’s arms.

“I am Gilbert. Gilbert Bougainvillea.” He pointed at Violet next. “You are Violet. Violet Evergarden.” He moved the finger both ways, saying, “Gilbert, Violet... Gilbert, Violet.”

The two who had ended up with mechanical part had grown and changed. They were not parent and child originally. Not siblings, either. They had also ceased being superior and subordinate.

“Lord Gilbert.”

At Violet’s predictable response, Gilbert smiled bitterly. “The ‘lord’ part... isn’t necessary.”

He had supposedly spoken gently, yet Violet showed him an aspect of disconcertment. “My apologies... Have you... come to hate me...?”

“No. I don’t know how to feel anything but affection towards you... It appears that...” while thinking that it was also valid for himself, Gilbert stated, “hum... you become insecure about it every now and then, but I’ll never hate you.”

“How come?” Violet asked.

How great would it be if he were able to show the insides of his heart to her? Presenting with a form that “this is love” would be so simple. However, it was due to not being able to do such a thing that people uttered words to proffer their love.

“Because I love you most.”

Violet started searching for that term within the sea of words embedded inside her. “‘Love... most’...” As they rolled out of her tongue, what appalling yet passionate words those were.

There was no other sentence more fitting of Gilbert Bougainvillea.

“Love me... most?”

“I have eyes for nobody but you. You’re the only one I’m fond of.”

“That is... to love most?”

“I will hold you dear for eternity, and continue to love you.”

She did not ask “That is... to love most?” a second time. Violet’s cheeks were rose-dusted, her heart started palpitating to the point of aching, and her field of vision blurred. She was unable to look at Gilbert’s face. Unwittingly, she cast her head down, yet he wound up peering at it. The distance between their faces was just about enough for them to kiss.

It was currently nighttime and the two of them were alone in that place, so whatever they did, no one would be looking. Maybe they could manage to keep it a secret even from God.

“I had a phase of... liking you... then I fell in love with you, and now, it turns out I love you the most. Do you understand?”

“Does it never diminish?”

“The affection?”

“The love.”

“I wonder. But I don’t want that to happen and will probably reconfirm whether I do love you numerous times, so it’ll likely intensify, not decrease. You fill me up with it.”

“With love?”

“Yes. The reason why I believe I love you is because you granted me that feeling.”

Violet Evergarden, who had been learning and copying from him – from people –, was able to take in the meaning of those words.

“I do that to you, Major?”

Again, her manner of referring to him had changed. Gilbert thought it was fine either way.

“You do that to me.” Gilbert silently planted a kiss not on Violet’s cheek or lips but on the fingertips that he was holding onto.

Silence.

Those were artificial fingers. She was unable to feel anything from them. Her arms were gone, and would nevermore return.

Placing a kiss on such a spot could transmit nothing.

Even so, he had deliberately kissed it in an affectionate manner. For some reason, that action – Gilbert’s feelings – caused Violet’s eyes to grow hot as if burning and produce tears.

Violet attempted to stop them. Those were incomprehensible tears. Why were they flowing at that moment? They would definitely trouble the man in front of her.

Nevertheless, tears were already pooling in her moist eyes until, finally, a single drop spilled down. Sure enough, the round tear that had fallen from one of her eyes left Gilbert distraught.

“Violet.” Seeing her reaction, he promptly let go of her fingers. “I’m sorry.” He stepped back, raising both hands as if to have her understand that he would not do anything else. “I’m really sorry.”

Violet did not answer. She stared at Gilbert without even wiping off the tear as if spacing out. Her attitude was not of anger. Her aspect was not of sorrow, either. He had no idea what she was thinking. She had the gaze of someone who seemed to be having a dream.

The two of them had lived separately, and he had thought that her facial expressions had become richer ever since they had reunited, but once she clammed up, he could not read her. Her lack of expression and well-featured doll-like traits did not allow Gilbert to study her emotions. However, the one thing he could fathom was that his action just now had been foolish.

——What am I doing?

He had told her that he would wait however long it took. The kiss on her fingers might have been a violation to that promise. He should have been the best gentleman for her, but he may have lost that right.

When she was by his side, she was unbearably endearing. The love towards her that lit up within his chest wound up overflowing.

“I swear I won’t do it anymore...”

The army colonel of Leidenschaftlich was losing face in front of the girl he was enamored with.

“Violet...”

What face was he making now? What did she think of it?

“Major, I...” Violet called him with her wind chime voice. She grabbed onto Gilbert’s fingers and took one step forward. The distance between them had shrunk once again. And then she took another step.

She was close enough to be embraced by Gilbert.

“Violet...”

“Major... please.” Violet peeked into Gilbert’s eye.

The emerald-green orb that had unchangeably borne beauty, kindness and a little bit of loneliness ever since they had first met was right there. Violet was now reflected in it.

Violet was inside his world.

“Do not swear so.”

Gilbert’s eyelid blinked at her straightforward words.

“Please, do not swear... that you will not do it.”

Seeing tears well up in Violet’s eyes once again, Gilbert impulsively reached an arm out to her. He caressed her golden hair as if to soothe her, earnestly listening to what she was attempting to tell him.

“Major, you explained it to me, right? That to love is to think of wanting to... protect someone the most.”

He wiped her tears with his fingertips.

Violet entrusted her cheek to his hand and shed more tears. “This has... applied to me since forever.”

She was attempting to replenish her lacking life. Rather, the truth was that the two of them could have done that from the moment they had met, for it was almost as if they made up for each other’s unskillfulness, but they had missed one another countless times and had not intersected well.

Violet’s chest was now being filled up with a warm feeling that she was experiencing for the first time.

“It always, always has, since long ago. I merely... did not know it...”

——This loud throbbing in my chest, this ecstasy, the fact that I end up swayed by your every action...

“I...”

——...the reason why I cried that I wanted to be by your side and asked you not to leave me anymore...

“Major... I...”

——...the reason why I am crying now...

“I, as of now...”

——...is that, once the “like” and the “love” fell and piled up like snow, and I became unable to melt them down, I had wanted to let you know that I wished the same to be valid for you.

“...have a feeling that I...”

People would declare it as if offering a prayer.

“...understand it better than before.”

“I love you”, that is.

[kotalefanzu]

Pitch Pearl  ATUS AU- Part 3

ahahaha. i finally came back to wite the finale. WOOOO. im still sorry about waiting so long oof.

where we last left off, danny had a dream about phantom, in which he tells him about the creation of the natural portals. he leaves danny, saying that he’ll come running back soon enough. when he wakes up, jazz tells him that sam and tucker have gone missing.

danny takes a second to process that information along with the dream and his brain just shuts down. he goes on autopilot, acting like he didn’t hear a word she just said. jazz tries to snap him out of it to get some sort of reaction but when she actually looks him in the eyes, filled with exhaustion, fear, and helplessness, she realizes that he doesn’t need any more things to worry about and goes to tell their parents not to bother him. 

when she leaves, he blankly goes through the motions as he normally would. just like before this all happened. he checks his phone with slight hope that they may have tried to contact him, but after realizing he spent ten minutes just staring at it, he puts it away and doesn’t check it again. the walk to school is nothing but a stream of consciousness and he doesn’t even really feel awake anymore. everyone is just a blur while his brain refuses to process anything around him. 

he gets to class, looks at his friends’ desks, and notices two cleanly carved DP symbols on them. it makes him start giggling a little, then laughing loudly, before he sinks to the ground crying out of frustration and overload.

a town meeting is called in the middle of school. the missing children line up with the new influx of ghost sightings and they want to check to see if any more kids have gone missing. someone points out the danny got taken last and the two missing children were his friends. others bring up the lunchroom incident and start pestering him with questions, seeking answers. danny waits for his family to quiet everything down before explaining everything from his first day in captivity all the way to last night’s dream. many people want to push the blame onto danny for painting a target on their heads and force him to deal with it on his own while others want to use danny as a bargaining tool to save their lives.

the fentons reject every suggestion and say that the most important thing here to do if to protect the children and find a way to defeat the ghosts now that blocking their way into the human realm is no longer an option. they explain that giving danny up might be a trap if phantom was able to kidnap sam and tucker but didn’t head straight for danny. he is told to safe and not try anything.

the GIW are called in to work on locating one of the portals and storming the ghost zone to rescue the missing children. danny is desperate to help and spends most of his time reliving unwanted memories just to give any form of information that might be helpful. after a while they send him away to try getting back to normal life as he needs a form of distraction. 

at lunch, he is cornered by the other teens who ask if he is really just going to sit there and do nothing. danny is hesitant to lead more children into the ghost zone where they could be hurt, but they are determined and at this point, he is willing to risk it. after stealing a bunch of weapons from his parent's old weaponry vault, he finds a natural portal and opens it. they get sucked into it and arrive in the courtyards of phantom’s keep.

the ectoplasm flooding his system is mildly overwhelming but he pushes through it and begins guiding everyone to the dungeons where they would probably be kept. he notices while navigating that strangely everything is the same as it ws before he left, from to the decor to the guard rotations. when they reach the dungeons, sam and tucker aren’t there. it confuses him. he tries to think about where else phantom could have put them and a small voice whispers, ‘check your old wing’. its actually easier to sneak back to his old wing due to all the times he has snuck in and out of it. while the rest of the group aren’t so used to the routes, following him makes it a lot easier. waiting in the common room of the wing are sam and tucker, posed like lifeless dolls and dressed in clothing uncomfortably similar to what danny once wore, though less extravagant. their skin is pale and lifeless and their eyes are glowing

perched on their heads are silvery circlets. danny motions for the rest of the group to stand behind him. sam and tucker slowly turn to look at them and another battle breaks out.

its obvious from how they are fighting that while they wont strike to kill danny, they dont care about sparing the rest. the group slowly works out a system of one half distracting sam while the other go to hold down tucker and remove the circlet. as soon as it comes off, the glow from his eyes fades and he stills like they pushed his power button. with one less person constantly firing at them, its a lot easier to do the same for sam as she can’t fight them all off. dash and kwan take up carrying the limp, unconscious people and they make off with their battle spoils to the portal. 

danny reopens the portal and makes sure everyone gets through, doing a headcount. when he is sure everyone is accounted for and out of the ghost zone. he thanks them and seals it, locking them in the human realm with him on the other side.  

it takes a while for the group to finally tell someone what happened and they start fearing how to explain to the two dead to the world people who still haven’t woken up yet. they finally fess up when jazz drives by and asks where danny is. they silently just show her sam and tucker and watch the emotions flicker rapidly on he face. in the end she settles on heartache and gives a weak smile, telling them that she’s glad they are back but wishes they could have brought her brother back as well. she is more forgiving when they explain that it was his decision and they didnt have time to stop him before it was too late.

back in the ghost zone, danny stares blankly at the sealed portal, wondering if he should just step through now before its too late. just as he reaches out his hand, he gets pulled in a tight embrace as phantom laughs in his ear. 

“What did I tell you, Starlight. You would come running back into my arms soon enough. Let’s go back home. You’ll find I didn’t change anything when you left. We can go right back to how it used to be before. Like you never ran away from me.”

he stays huddled up in his room for most of the time, only coming out when phantom wants him to accompany him on an errand or when he has to attend meetings with phantom. the faces are familiar. he made a few friends during his captivity and while the circumstances are grim, its pleasant to see them again. 

for starters, clockwork was a common face when danny began getting incredibly homesick. phantom had requested danny be allowed to view the present of his ‘loved ones’ lives and he had spent every moment he could watching them throughout the day and making sure they were fine. clockwork also had hilariously awful puns, though they werent allowed to actually say them anymore after phantom got jealous and forbade them from speaking to danny. danny still carried the one-sided conversations and it seemed to cheer clockwork up from the decree. princess dora, now queen dora, was also a good friend of his, often discussing with him the pain of living with overbearing nobility. she had done a double-take when he approached her and sat him down to calmly ask what happened, though he could see the tension laced through her. after recounting she took a long sip of her tea and looked him in the eyes. she told a seemly random story of her exploring her kingdom and hearing a bard singing about how the mighty dragon princess stole the dragon king’s crown and the mighty dragon queen took her dear brother down. the piercing look in her eyes before she moved to a new topic told him more than enough.

the few moments of reprieve they offered was not enough to outdo the lappet treatment of phantom that allowed for no rejection, but it was something and it was all he could ask for.

sam and tucker wake up finally after being in a coma for two days. after scanning the room filled with their classmates, parents, and the fenton family, they quickly realize the only one not there that should be is danny. sam is the first one to speak, immediately yelling at them for trading them for danny and going off about how they need to go back for him as soon as possible. dash defends them by telling her that its not their fault danny closed the portal before any one of them could drag his skinny self sacrificing ass through it. they cant reopen it without him.

sam quiets down after that and tucker takes out asking all the questions he can think of to find a way to fix this. there has to be a way to reopen the portal.

(a cut back scene to danny interacting with phantom. im not good with writing abuse mixed with love very well so go ahead and use your imaginations okay uwu)

sam and tucker also end up secluding themselves and working nonstop on trying to figure out how to save danny. jazz stops by every day to check on them and pass on homework and anything she hears about the ghosts to them. while they start cleaning up the room to take a break and finish schoolwork, sam trips on a piece of paper and is about to fall. only she is caught in mid-air and surrounded by a neon lime green aura, one similar to danny’s though his is a bluish mint. the aura dissipates and she hits the ground with a soft thud but everything stops as tucker and her look at each other in shock. 

“That was you!”

“That was me!”

homework gets pushed aside again for experimentation and documenting. they might be able to reopen the portal after all.

[peachyteabuck]

enemy of my enemy is my lover

summary: you planned on just going to a meeting with an adversary, hoping to gain more territory in the process. you left with something much, much better. 

pairing: mobster!bucky barnes x mobster!reader

words: 3,226

trigger warnings: smut (oral - f recieving and vaginal sex), mob dynamics

notes/other: this was inspired by ask received by @bucky-plums-barnes a long, long time ago about a mobster!bucky headcanon that describes the plot to this fic. while i could not find the exact ask (trust me, i tried), i credit the anonymous genius & gen heavily for inspiring this. thank you both!

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

Each step you make is loud, sharp; the sound of heels clicking against the cold, cracked cement of New York City. It’s something, one of the things, that makes you powerful – sends this thick feeling of invulnerability through your veins, as if you’re some deity returning to her alter.

That feeling – one of untouchable power – has always been…sort of…hard for you to conjure. It’s not like you’re not not powerful in this world absent your fantasies. You run the second most powerful mob in the country! You’ve got a large pull in international trade! You’ve got major influence in congress and almost every state senate! You’ve got money, a smoking hot and super amazing boyfriend, and loyal coworkers. What else do you need?

Regardless of all that, roaming the streets at night never fails to send a special kind of shiver crawling across your skin. It’s a particular type of fear, one that makes you pull your steel grey coat closer to you as you roam the street, makes your hand cling tighter to the .45 in your deep, righthand pocket.

As you reach the alley where the deal you’re brokering is supposed to take place, your phone buzzes a few times in a row. You have an urge to check it, to make sure the man you love is okay, but letting your guard down now wouldn’t be wise. You’ve got to keep a keen mental sharpness about you to make sure no one kidnaps you (or worse) or fucks you over at your own deal, but still, the only person who would be texting you at this godforsaken hour is the man you left at home, and in this business you can never be too careful about the ones you care deeply about…

Your thoughts are interrupted (quite rudely, you might add), by the sound of a thick winter coat shuffling – as if someone were to be rolling their sleeves up. The noise of the fabric gets louder as the person – a man, you soon realize – steps closer. A man with sharp cheekbones and a dark beard and beautiful, pillowy lips.

His gaze, even under the dark baseball cap that lacks insignia, seems hauntingly familiar. You can’t place it, and it seems rude to ask if you’ve met before, given the circumstances. Still…something seems…recognizable about this mystery man.

You don’t realize it, though, until the man opens his mouth and asks about the new baby seal in the San Francisco zoo. It’s the right code, that’s not what throws you. Rather, it’s the gravely voice of the man you’ve been dating for years that stops you in your tracks.

“Bucky!?” you call out, completely confused and abandoning the correct coded response. “Why are you out here?”

Bucky, now meeting your eyes, seems just as bewildered as you are. “I, uh…I’m….what, what are you doing here?”

You have no idea how to respond, mind too baffled to form words. “Wh…what…”

You step closer, carefully – as if he was some rabid cat you found behind your apartment building. His beautiful baby blues are wide, eyes narrowed – you gasp when you get close enough to smell the cologne, his cologne, the exact scent you bought him for Christmas the year previous. “Are…are you…you’re…are you the White Wolf?”

Bucky visibly steps back at the mention of the street name – the street name of the guy who runs the mob that (similar to yours) is based in New York and works in black market goods. He tries to hide his shock, just in case what he thinks is happening definitely isn’t happening. In all honesty, Bucky can’t tell which one would be worse. “And, you’re uh. You’re…um…are you….are you She-Devil?”

If you were disoriented before, you have no word to describe how much your brain is short-circuiting at the thought that this man – the man you love, has secretly been running not only a mob, but a rival mob, this entire time.

“Do…wait,” you shake your head to try and collect your exceptionally scattered thoughts. “Are you the guy who wanted to negotiate territory with me?”

Bucky hesitates for a second, body tense and reluctant to say anything. You’re both still, not daring move a muscle and the both of you stare each other down. It feels like an eternity before he does anything, your surprise only growing as a massive, shit-eating grin spreads across his gorgeous, scruffy face.

It’s a look you know well, one you’ve come to both love and despise. It’s the same look he gave you when he told you he wanted to build (not pay someone else to build, build himself) a deck in a house you moved out of two months later, when he almost got a face tattoo, when he sold your house (you know, the one he wanted to build a deck for) to buy one three streets away. That’s the look he get when some grand idea that will probably turn out to be a disaster – the look that says “this may be a disaster, but the only way to see if it is will be to try it.”

In an instant, Bucky closes the gap between you and presses his lips to yours. As he arms wrap around you, you can feel him rub at the small of your back, just as he always does when he’s trying to keep you calm. “Yeah, babygirl. That’s me. I’m the White Wolf.”

You press your face in the warm embrace of his coat, muffling your speech. “But why didn’t you tell me?”

Bucky shrugs as he answers. “Didn’t want you to feel unsafe, I guess. Didn’t want you to worry about me.” He presses a kid to the top of your head. “Better question, why didn’t you tell me?”

You sigh, your small voice becoming even tinier. “I dunno…same reasons as you, I guess. Felt like I’d be dragging you into something you wouldn’t want to deal with.”

Bucky barks a laugh into the night, the sound reverberating off the tall buildings. “Seems reasonable.”

You pull away but refuse to make eye contact as tears well in your eyes and cloud your vision. For a mob leader, you’re very emotional. “Baby, are you sure? Like, are you sure this is okay? I mean, we kept this major part of our lives from each for literal years…like, does that say something about us as a couple? And we’re, like, rivals, we’re supposed to be competing against each other for money and goods and ports and clients and-“

Bucky cuts into your anxious ramblings by pulling you back into a tight bug. “Hey, hey! Baby, listen. This is a good thing! A great one, if you want it to be!”

You wipe at your nose with your hand. “Are you…what do you, are you sure? What do you mean?”

Bucky nods, eyes ablaze with excitement for the future. “Of course, baby, listen. Separate, our mobs are both powerful, right? We can agree on that. But together? With the territory, the influence, us...together, we could rule the fucking world.”

Technically, he isn’t wrong; with your strategy and Bucky’s brutal execution, your combined business could easily become the apex predator of the mob scene within the Western hemisphere. What Bucky had, you lacked, and vice versa. You’d studied his…business…for years (before you knew it was Bucky who ran the Pack, of course) as you climbed the ranks of your own mob. You know they have hands in several international black markets, have relationships with lots of lots of rich people who do lots and lots of bad things and pay lots and lots of money for those bad things.

Oh God, you’d never think being power-hungry and love drunk could feel so good. Your mind fogs over with all the things you could do if you had Bucky and his gang by your side, you could do anything. Simply by territory you’d be outgunning Hydra, let alone the combined wealth and human capital. You’ve never felt this exhilarated before in your life, the freezing night air electrifying your rib cage and-

Bucky and you grin madly. Wordlessly, you clasp hands and walk back to your shared apartment halfway across town. Both of you are silent until you’re safely inside your secured home. As you pull your hair up into a messy ponytail, Bucky began grabbing bowls for dinner.

“You know-” he said as he ladled soup out of the deep red Crock Pot. “Now that we aren’t desperately trying to hide our occupations from each other, we can move into a bigger house?’ Bucky says it like a question, but you know better.

Normally you’d tell him “no, of course we can’t do that, we can’t afford it.” But now that you both know that you’re each hiding hundreds of millions of dollars in offshore accounts, slush funds, and dummy corporations throughout the world…

“Sure,” you shrug. “Why not.”

Bucky grins like a child on Christmas. “If we’re gonna rule, we need the proper palace.”

You forego giving into Bucky’s terrible, awful joke to hang up your studded coat, to take off your business casual navy-blue pants and black button-up in, and change into a pair of workout shorts and some tie-dye hoodie you thrifted about ten years ago. Bucky calls them your “thinking clothes,” attire you wear specifically to center yourself, to clear your mind of everything except the task at hand.

During dinner, you and Bucky begin to plan how you can consolidate assets, personnel, jobs, and everything that comes with heading mobs. It’s a long talk, one that lasts long into the night and ends with hastily-drawn diagrams and maps strewn around your living room.

It takes hours and way too many pots of coffee, but eventually the plan for the merger is laid out in front of you – all the graphs and math and official language handwritten in your neat cursive (along with a few notes scrawled by Bucky) on over twenty sheets of pristine printer paper.

Bucky sighs happily when he sees it all finished. He’s standing, desperate for a bird’s eye view of the entire thing.

You, on the other hand, are much too tired to stand. You settle for, “How does it look, babe?” as you draw two lines for each of your signatures below both of your full names.

When you look up, you see Bucky – eyes twinkling with joy. “It looks…,” he sighs, happily. “Amazing. I love you so much.”

You giggle, drawing lines for a few witnesses (you’ll make a few of your associates sign tomorrow). “I love you, too, babe. Now, you still got that champagne from our visit to France?”

Somewhere between the front room and the wine fridge, Bucky had you pinned against the wall and was cupping your clothed pussy.

“While I think you look great,” Bucky murmurs against the hot skin of your neck. “You’re wearing just a little too much for me.”

In an instant he tears the skimpy shorts from your body, the sound of ripping fabric making you moan;

“Fuck,” you gasp as one digit, then another enters you. “Holy shit that feels good.”

Bucky pulls away enough to look you in the eyes, smiling as he watches your jaw slacken from the pleasure. “Yeah? You like that?”

If you could speak you would, but each word just comes out as a breathy moans. Your first orgasm hits you like a wave, Bucky pulling it from you with crooked fingers and his lips on yours.

When you come down Bucky carries you to the bed, undressing himself as you do the same.

He pulls you to the end of the bed by your ankles, pushing your legs up to your chest. He enters you easily – bottoming out within a few thrusts.

You and Bucky moan into each other’s mouths as he fucks into you.

“Oh God,” he groans, moving to kiss at your neck. “Holy shit!”

He rubs at your clit with the thumb of one hand as he bites bruises in your collarbones, desperate to hear the symphony of sweet sighs and deep moans as you near another peak.

“Come on baby,” Bucky murmurs into your lips. “Come on, cum around my cock for me.”

It doesn’t take much after that – a few more circles around your clit in time with his thrusts and soon you’re scream and nearly tears the sheets from how tight you’re gripping them and your whole body convulses from pleasure.

Bucky finishes himself onto your stomach, head thrown back in pleasure as he does so.

He takes a minute to collect himself, still panting as he grabs a tissue to clean you off.

After water and a snack (two granola bars you had stuffed into your bedside drawer an unknowable amount of months ago), you curl into Bucky’s chest, tracing the litany of tattoos there. “Weren’t we supposed to drink to celebrate?”

Bucky lets out a full belly laugh. “Probably. But the alcohol is all the way downstairs. Plus, I know something else I can drink to celebrate?”

You wrinkle your nose. “Only you? Why don’t I get to get drunk?”

Bucky just smirks, moving you off of him. You’re about to protest but begin to understand once he pushes the covers off the both you to make room for himself between your legs.

“Trust me,” he tells you, leaving kisses on your skin between every few words. “You’ll love this a lot more than any old champagne.”

And, of course, he was right.

The next day, you meet with your closest adversaries. While you two wait in the conference room in the building Bucky took over after it was condemned a couple years back, you can feel your heart ram into your ribcage. It’s less from anxiety and more from anticipation, knowing you might face major backlash from the people you trust the most.

The first to arrive is the woman you trust the most in this world: Natasha. She doesn’t move towards the table, simply stands just inside the doorway while staring you down. She doesn’t recognize Bucky, but doesn’t enjoy being below the eyeline of a man she’s never seen before.

“Natasha,” you say, desperate to remain calm. “This is Bucky. We’ve been together for five years. And he’s the leader of the Pack.”

In a fashion much atypical for Natasha Romanoff, her eyes widen slightly. “Oh…” she says after a long while. “Okay then.”

She promptly sits down with no further questions.

As with many business, heads and second-in-commands of mobs rarely come face to face. They have goons, messengers that do their footwork. Descriptions of the faces belonging those in charge pass around akin to rumors, only whispered quieter.

Which is why, when Steve comes in, he has no idea what to think until Bucky introduces you and Natasha.

By the time Bucky’s finished talking, Steve’s beat red. “Buck, what the fuck is this.”

“Just,” Bucky sighs, worried about his phrasing and angering his best friend on the face of the planet (whether that be Steve, for reasons that feel obvious, or you, for reasons that feel even more obvious). “Sit down. We’ll explain-“

“’We’ll!’” Steve nearly screams.

Bucky is the only one who flinches at the sudden loud noise. You finish his sentence for him. “Yes. Bucky and I will explain.”

Steve doesn’t like it, doesn’t like taking orders from a rival. Still, he sits at the large, oval conference table opposite Natasha.

The last two people to come in are the head of you and Bucky’s legal departments. Wanda gives you a single nod before sitting next to Natasha, a man Bucky addresses as “Tony” sits next to Steve.

You exhale deeply once the metaphorical dust settles, encouraging Bucky to begin the spiel he had prepared last night been orgasms four and five.

“Alright. We have,” he sighs. “We have decided to combine our two…”  Bucky struggles to find the right word. He worries for bugs and secret agents and misunderstandings, brain always struggling to remember that this is sacred, secret business. Any crack in any of the numerous protective facades could mean its downfall, along with the loss of billions of dollars and his life.

“Entrepreneurial endeavors,” you finish for him.

You hear Natasha snort, amused by the avoidance of saying gang and mob and illegal distributor of goods. The rest of your cohort are silent, unsure of what to say next.

Each beat of verbal inaction leaves you more fearful than the last, your heart getting louder and louder in your ears.

For what feels like forever, no one says anything.

Though, with the pounding of blood in your ears, they could be screaming obscenities at you and you wouldn’t be able to hear them.

The only thing that seems able to quiet the noise is Bucky’s fingers intertwining with yours.

Only then do you hear Wanda speak, her accent tinging each word. It’s comforting, to hear something so familiar.

“I assume you both have drawn up something that,” she eyes the man across from her with a look dusted with disdain. “Tony and I can look at.”

Bucky slides the thick document, held together in a beat-up binder you found under a bookshelf, across the table. Wanda is the one who stops it and looks into it first.

She says nothing, holding her tongue as she allows Tony to eye the document. He’s wearing dark sunglasses and pushes them to the corner of his nose as thumbs through it, looking bored and tired.

“Yeah, this shit looks good,” Tony says quickly, shoving the dark glasses back over his eyes. “Can we leave now?”

The resounding silence continues until you break it yourself, attempting to detail for Steve and Natasha what it all means. They listen diligently and sign where needed, Natasha being decided on as the most likely to type it up into an official document and send it to the necessary parties.

Once it’s all over, you and Bucky ride down in the big, glass elevator together – excitement electric in the air.

“How’re you feeling?” Bucky asks. It doesn’t seem to be out of concern, even if tears of happiness are pricking at your eyes.

“God,” you tell him, voice breathy and ecstatic. “I don’t even know how to describe it. I just, I don’t know. I’ve been so terrified I’d have to hide this forever – or that you’d find out, or that someone would figure out who you were. And now…I just,” you wipe at your eyes, and Bucky pulls you into his chest. “I don’t have to worry about that anymore. I know you’re protected. And I don’t have to hide this from you. And I’m so fucking happy about it.”

Bucky kisses the top of your head, tucking you under his chin. “Oh, baby. Darling I’m so sorry you had to go through all that.”

The two of you stand in silence, holding each other until you have to exit. Neither of you say anything until you’re both in the car, safely on your way back to your shared home.

“We’re in this together right?” you ask, looking at Bucky as he keeps his dark eyes on the road.

Regardless he smiles, moving his right hand from the wheel to rest on your knee. “Always, baby. Always.”

[ibijau]

Worst engagement AU // on AO3

Lan Xichen ponders on the changes he sees in his fiancé, and shares some news with Nie Huaisang

It takes Lan Xichen by surprise when he enters the classroom after his uncle and Nie Huaisang smiles at him. They haven't talked since the day Nie Huaisang was told he failed his exams, not even for an apology. Lan Xichen generously told his uncle that he did not require one given in person, that writing it down would be more than enough. 

At least, he told himself that it was generosity. Mostly, once the shock of Nie Huaisang's outburst had passed and Lan Wangji confirmed that the other boy hadn't done anything stupid out of emotion, Lan Xichen had been too upset to want to deal with Nie Huaisang in any manner. Anger was one thing, but daring to compare Lan Xichen to someone like Jin Zixun and calling him the worse of the two had been uncalled for. After all, Lan Xichen has done his best to be kind. 

So the smile surprises him. 

Seeing Nie Huaisang trade amused glances with Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian as Lan Qiren reminds everyone of Gusu Lan's rules, that also surprises him. He doesn't think Nie Huaisang has ever met either of them, and he's always been solitary before. Lan Xichen can only hope that Jiang Wanying has sincerely taken pity on Nie Huaisang. He would rather not have to deal with another Jin Zixun situation.

Very soon though, it is neither Nie Huaisang nor Jiang Wanyin who grab his attention, but the top disciple of Yunmeng Jiang, Wei Wuxian. Lan Xichen has never spoken to him before, but he’s heard his reputation, and earlier this morning Lan Wangji complained to him and their uncle about this unruly student who broke curfew, drank alcohol, and fought with him. It’s not that nobody ever breaks the rules, but usually they wait until a little later in the year, when they feel the Lan disciples will have relaxed their surveillance. For someone to act so boldly on their very first night… of course Lan Wangji would be in a bad mood.

A mood that Lan Qiren soon shares when it becomes obvious that, even though he has started reading aloud the rules of Gusu Lan so nobody can say they’re not aware of them, Wei Wuxian isn’t paying attention. He also doesn’t seem impressed when Lan Qiren starts quizzing him about this and that, answering quickly and perfectly while the other students tense with each new question. Lan Xichen would never admit it, but it is rather entertaining to see his uncle fail to catch Wei Wuxian at fault with his answers, a sentiment his brother apparently does not share, judging by the way he glares at the other boy.

It does appear that Lan Qiren will win this showdown when Wei Wuxian fails to answer a question that’s of a rather higher level than what would normally be expected for boys that age. But with renewed boldness, Wei Wuxian starts making improper suggestions that shock nearly everyone in the room and pushes Lan Qiren to a degree of anger his nephew has rarely seen since his mother’s death. Lan Qiren finds himself throwing books at Wei Wuxian, trying in vain to shut him up about his heretical theories, and one of those books hits Nie Huaisang’s head, bringing Lan Xichen’s attention back to him.

He’d have expected Nie Huaisang to be terrified, as he always is whenever anything happens, or perhaps to start crying because of the underserved blow. Instead, Lan Xichen finds his fiancé distractedly rubbing his head and trying to contain a grin as he stares at Wei Wuxian with ever growing delight.

It’s odd, seeing Nie Huaisang with such an expression.

When Lan Qiren’s anger rises so much he orders Wei Wuxian to get out, only to actually be obeyed by Wei Wuxian, Nie Huaisang is the first to recover from the shock of it. He starts laughing, soon joined by a few others, and doesn’t stop until Lan Qiren gives all of them a portion of the rules to copy for their insolence.

Thankfully, the rest of the lesson passes without more trouble. Lan Wangji dutifully listens to every word that their uncle says, even though none of it is new to him. Lan Xichen does his best to look as if he’s listening as well, while actually thinking of the things he needs to get done once the lecture is done, from an unpleasant conversation to be had, to a new song he’s learning on the xiao that he can’t seem to get quite right, meaning he needs to check with the music master if he’s free. He also promised to help check some details of the sect’s budget, since his uncle is starting to ease him into taking a more active role in these things. It's unlikely that his father will ever leave his seclusion, after all.

Quite honestly, being at this lecture is a waste of Lan Xichen’s time, but Lan Qiren insisted that it would be good for the guest disciple to know him and Lan Wangji. There are, after all, a lot of important young masters among their ranks this year.

It’s a relief when the lecture finishes at last, though that relief is short-lived when his uncle reminds him that he must speak to Nie Huaisang. To Lan Xichen’s dismay, his fiancé was among the very first to leave the classroom, dashing outside in company of Jiang Cheng, followed dutifully by the disciples of their respective sects. Having no choice, Lan Xichen too leaves, joined quickly by his brother.

“Do you need something, Wangji?” he asks, walking at a fast pace in an effort to catch up with the other boys.

“I will greet Nie gongzi as well,” Lan Wangji simply replies.

Lan Xichen rolls his eyes, but can’t help a small smile. The rabbit painting still hangs in his brother’s room. Lan Wangji has poor taste in friends, but as long as he gets out of his shell a little, Lan Xichen counts it as a win.

By the time they finally catch up with Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng at the gate of one of the gardens, the two have found Wei Wuxian and are chatting with him. Once again, Lan Xichen cannot help but be struck by how animated Nie Huaisang appears to be in the company of these two. In fact, isn’t it odd that he’s talking at all? The very few times Lan Xichen has seen him around other people (and that has always been rare indeed) Nie Huaisang was never more than a listener. Now, though, he is an active participant, making comments and being replied to by the other boys, as if all of his old awkwardness were nothing but a dream.

Lan Xichen turns to his brother to comment on this, then nearly laughs at the intense look on Lan Wangji’s face. It’s rare for him to get properly angry, but apparently Wei Wuxian has accomplished that feat, judging by the way Lan Wangji glares at him.

When Lan Xichen turns his attention back to the other group, it is to discover that they have been spotted. Jiang Cheng seems a little awkward, while Wei Wuxian appears delighted to see Lan Wangji. As for Nie Huaisang he now hides behind a fan, nothing but his eyes peeking out to stare at Lan Xichen with a more familiar anxiety.

“May I have a word with Nie gongzi?” Lan Xichen asks, coming closer.

Nie Huaisang startles at the demand. Wei Wuxian just grins, and looks at Lan Wangji.

“Sure, you can have him a moment. Can we have Lan Zhan in exchange? Lan Zhan, come chat with us, it’ll be fun!”

Aside from their mother and Lan Xichen himself, it is certainly the first time that anyone uses Lan Wangji’s personal name. It is no surprise that his glare intensifies, and that he decides to leave right away without taking the time to talk to Nie Huaisang after all. Again, Lan Xichen half wants to laugh, especially since it doesn’t seem that Wei Wuxian is being so familiar out of mean spiritedness. If Lan Wangji’s account of their fight the previous night is anything to go by, these two are of a similar level in swordsmanship. Considering how hard it is for Lan Wangji to find a worthwhile opponent, Wei Wuxian too must struggle to find someone worth sparring with and it wouldn’t be surprising if he enjoyed their little squabble.

It is something to consider later. Lan Wangji is really too solitary, it would be good for him to make friends.

First, though, Lan Xichen has his own problems to take care of.

“Will Nie gongzi come with me, then?” he insists.

With a reluctance he doesn’t try to hide, Nie Huaisang leaves his group to come at Lan Xichen’s side. Since the conversation they need to have is a somewhat private matter, Lan Xichen motions for his fiancé to follow him and they walk further into the gardens. Only when it is unlikely anyone will hear does Lan Xichen finally speak.

“My uncle has asked me to share with you some orders he gave concerning the both of us,” he announces. “He is concerned that we do not get along as well as might be preferred in a situation such as ours, and wants us to spend more time together to remedy it. From now on, we must…”

“No,” Nie Huaisang cuts him, hiding behind his fan as if it were a shield. “I don’t want to.”

“My uncle orders it,” Lan Xichen insists, shocked by this rejection of his authority. “He suggested it to your brother who agreed. We are to meet every week and…”

“No,” Nie Huaisang repeats, with more assurance, though his fan trembles a little. “I won’t do it. Da-ge did not tell me to. Your uncle did not tell me to. And I’m not listening to you.”

“You think I’d lie?”

The very idea is outrageous. Refusal to lie is held as one of the most important rules of Gusu Lan, so to be accused of it by someone who has, in fact, lied right to Lan Xichen’s face several times, is appalling. Nie Huaisang must realise it as well. He hesitates, his fan definitely shaking now from how hard he grasps it.

“I think I don’t care what you have to say,” he announces with surprising firmness. “I think if your uncle has sometimes to tell me, he can say it himself, and I’ll believe him. Until then, I’m not spending more time with you than I have to.”

Taken aback and feeling anger rise in him, Lan Xichen doesn’t stop Nie Huaisang when the other boy simply leaves. It’s for the best, because such audacity very nearly makes him lose his calm. He doesn’t know what angers him most: that Nie Huaisang would think that Lan Xichen would for some reason lie in an effort to spend time with him, or that his fiancé appears to treat his company as deeply undesirable.

As soon as he regains his calm, Lan Xichen decides to seek out his uncle and tell him about this unexpected and most shocking development.

He doesn’t know what game Nie Huaisang has decided to start playing, but he doesn’t like it in the least.

[inkribbon796]

Forgotten Light Ch. 1: Refractions

Summary: Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall. Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. All the king’s horses and all the king’s men . . . couldn’t put Thomas back together again.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3

During the several days that the Sides were in Brighton, the Coalition went through their house and every room they tended to frequent in the base with a fine-toothed comb. Trying to find another aura trail, which King, Nate, and Mare were doing the bulk of the aura searching.

The humans came in their civilian attire, not wanting to draw attention to the Sides’ home.

Deep indigos, pastel blues, sparkling reds, and vibrant purples. All the Core Sides were accounted for. There was evidence that Janus and Remus had been over to their home by the faint aura trails.

“So what else are we looking for?” Silver groaned as Jackie came back in from searching places the Sides liked to regularly frequent.

“I’ve got fook-all[1],” Jackie groaned.

“We need evidence of someone living here since March, because that’s when Deceit and the Duke moved out,” King rubbed at his eyes under his glasses. “And Spade doesn’t count. Spade was just spicy Logan with extra steps. He’d have almost the exact same type of aura as him.”

Joan sighed. “Either way this place is clear, what if we don’t find it?”

“Then we hope the legate is dead,” King decided. “Which is probably a good thing. Being trapped for so long without a lot of aura, it would probably make any demon crazy.”

“So what are we supposed ta[2] do?” Jackie groaned. “Put e’erythin’ back an’ pretend nothin’s happened? All yah’ve told us about this thin’ is that it’s dangerous or somethin’.”[3]

“Honestly I’ve never heard of one either,” Mare admitted, coming out of a wall. “I knew there were other types of demons, but I thought it was just a regional language thing.”

“Well different cultures do call you guys different things in different part of the world and that does influence it a little,” King agreed.

“Kid,” Mare crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You’re an empath just like me, you’re just a small one.”

King frowned, glaring at Mare. “Least I still have my own body, I don’t have to borrow or steal someone else’s.”

Mare looked exceptionally smug, “Just wait until yours starts rusting on you. Bodies don’t last forever. You’ll pick a fight, or someone will pick a fight with you while Daddy’s not watching, and you’ll lose. Or your body will get so useless you’ll have to leave it. It happens to everyone. You think Nate was my first body, or the one your old man’s got was his? Bodies don’t last forever, Dark’s probably overdue a trade out. Being in a broken down body can’t be good but he was always made of nothing but spite and coffee so fuck that body, I guess.”

King just about bared his teeth at the older demon, but he didn’t want anymore of that smug look pointed at him and thankfully Nate intervened.

“Okay, okay,” Nate used his magic to nudge Mare away, trying to break the stand-off and deescalate the two of them. “Let’s focus on this legate, because I was raised with the Legionnaires and I just thought that a legion was like a group of demons like a murder of crows. It’s why the Legionnaires chose their name because they were a powerful force, or at least I thought so.”

“Well that is partially true,” King agreed, searching for something in the magic space he had on the inside of his cape. “A group of demons is called a legion, but it’s also a type of demon for the same reason.”

Then King paused, “Shoot, I forgot it at the base, and we should probably go back to the base, leave this place back for them.”

“Yeah we’ve combed through this place enough,” King sighed and Joan and Silver stayed behind to make sure everything was moved back to where it was supposed to be as everyone headed back to the base.

King went to go find the tome he’d been looking for in his room, and while he was gone Silver and Joan came back into the base.

“I think we got everything back to where it was,” Silver told them. “But I guarantee we missed something.”

Joan rolled their eyes. “Lo’s absolutely gonna[4] know someone went through their house, and if he somehow doesn’t find out I guarantee you Virgil will when he goes through his stuff. He used to live with the Duke after all.”

King walked back in, Lunky clinging to his cape, King smiled and was talking with his child. There was an old book in his hand. “You can stay, but you can’t meet the new demon, he’s not very nice like 할아버지[5] is.”

“You do know you’re talking about Dark, right?” Silver asked.

“Yeah, well, he’s nice to Lunky,” King smiled, before his level leveled onto a more neutral frown as he cracked open the tome. “Alright so on Illinois’s first trips to Egypt he found this book in the bowels of some library.”

“Does it talk about Legates?” Jackie asked, walking over and getting a low warning hiss from Lunky for approaching the spawnling’s father without Lunky’s permission.

“Hey, it’s okay,” King told his child, before looking at the book. “So this book doesn’t directly talk about Legates but it kickstarted this little bout of research he and I did. What this book details is some spawnling that was formed by a lightning strike and began conquering the area. The Old Man’s apparently met this guy too, he likes building stuff apparently.”

“They play poker on the weekends or somethin’[6]?” Jackie tried to joke.

“No, they haven’t spoken in almost 200 years,” King dismissed. “More importantly this research Ills and I did helped us learn a lot about demons. Mainly that demons aren’t categorized by aura or region of the world, but based on how they collect aura. If they can survive being struck by lightning without discorporating, control lightning, or technology; then they’re glitches. If they feed primarily off the emotional state of other humans or demons, then they’re empaths. If they collect aura by manipulating people and making deals: that means they’re deal makers. If they’re attention whores that collect aura from large groups, they’re showmen.”

“Wait, glitches have an affinity fer[7] lightnin’[8]?” Jackie asked. “Since when? Anti doesn’t go outside in lightnin’[8] storms.”

“Well, that doesn’t surprise me,” King replied. “Honestly there should be a hell of a lot more glitches with an outright phobia of lightning. Before technology really took off the only way to get a glitch was if one split off from another demon, like what happened with Lunky, or something like lightning strikes them. I’m pretty sure Anti was human once and he’s old enough that he was probably killed by lightning.”

“What?” Jackie shouted.

“Yep,” King popped the end of the world. “Which is why glitches were seen as weaker or rare for centuries, it was hard for them to get a lot of power until the industrial revolution hit. But while we were deep diving in some of the books we found, we found some myths and legends that talked about another type of demon. It was like a hybrid of other demon types. Like a jack-of-all-trades, master of none, kind of demon.”

“So if demons are separated by how they collect aura,” Silver commented. “How do these . . . legates? I assume these types are legates, right? How do they collect aura?”

“Yes,” King confirmed hesitantly, “and that’s the problem. Legates are like an octopus. Eight legs, but one octopus. Something in the process of creating a legate, regardless of what it would have become, doesn’t split properly. If the legate was already a proper demon it would just make a spawnling and both the demon and the spawnling would be fine. And 99.99999% of the time the person just dies instead of making a legate. But it’s that incredibly slim chance where the soul is resilient enough that the energy can’t fully make a proper demon. That energy has to go somewhere so it makes a legate and this pseudo-demon, for lack of a better term, is dangerous because the demon itself can’t collect aura, but it’s legs can.”

“Is that where the Sides come in?” Joan asked.

“Exactly,” King gestured with his arms. “It explains why there are so many. Because when a demon makes a spawnling, multiple spawnlings mean a lot of energy was split off but when a human is turned into a demon there’s barely enough energy to make one demon, let alone seven. So the legate can’t absorb aura properly on its own, making it crazy and hungry because it can’t feed like it’s supposed to. It’s like being lactose intolerant but only being able to eat and drink dairy products. But the arms or extensions of a legate are fully capable of getting aura and bringing it back to the legate in a way it can feed from. The better control a legate has over its arms, the better it can feed. So it quickly gains complete dominion over the arms and turns them into mindless thralls.”

“But all the Sides have some of the most bombastic personalities I’ve ever seen,” Silver reminded, as Nate hummed in agreement, Mare was talking to him in his head.

“Precisely,” King smiled. “They’re not thralls, so that means they’re not giving their legate aura. So the legate is either dead or is kept somewhere that it can’t collect aura and turn the Sides into thralls. If we can verify the legate is actually dead or kill it, then the Sides keep their individuality.”

“So how do we do that?” Nate spoke up. “Especially without hurting the Sides in the process?”

King thought on that for a second. “Well when they get back we should come clean and just talk about the whole thing and maybe they know something they haven’t told us.”

“Okay, what if they don’t?” Mare asked.

“Well they’re non-violent for the most part, so if we leave them be they’re not going to torch the city down,” King shrugged, he tucked the tome into his cape. “Unless there’s something you guys haven’t told me. How did Thomas die exactly? Knowing what all the Sides have in common will tell us a lot about the legate we’re looking for.”

Nate gestured to Joan, who quickly began explaining, “So I found this old camera at an estate sale and brought it to some party. I was messing around with it, dropped it, and Thomas caught it. When that happened, he split apart and that was it, it went that fast.”

“You’re sure nothing happened in-between that time?” King asked.

“Yeah,” Joan answered, hesitant but sure.

“We still have that soul splitter,” Nate supplied helpfully. “We’re pretty sure it used to be Wil’s.”

“What?” King spat.

“Yeah, I’ll go get it,” Nate offered and ran out of the room to go fetch the camera. King at the same time sent Lunky back to Google. The spawnling complained but eventually the two heroes came back with their little missions completed.

“Okay, Logan really likes it for some reason,” Nate informed King when they were both back. By the look on King’s face the young man was thinking along the same lines. “Deceit hates the thing apparently, but none of the others have more than a passing tolerance towards it.”

King picked up the camera and groaned at the pink mustache stained into the side. “Of course it’s Dad’s. His magic always did weird things to stuff to begin with.”

The young man began trying to send his aura at it, to get it to react, but he was met with nothing.

“Okay, Dad, what weird thing did you do to make this?” King grumbled in frustration.

“That’s all I could ever get it to do,” Nate lamented. “I’ve tried popping the film cartridge, but it’s stuck. I think it’s just old.”

Humming a bit in affirmation, King turned it over a bit and set it on the closest table, his fingers drummed pensively. “Okay, it’s Dad’s, there’s gotta be some trick.”

King took out one of the medallion necklaces Dark had made for Lunky and hung it right over the camera.

Still nothing.

Frowning, King channeled his aura through the camera and finally a reaction took place. A mix of King and Dark’s aura in proximity to the remnants of Wil’s that stubbornly held the camera together brought forth another aura. It was distinct and visible: a shimmering, rainbow aura. It lasted for a second but it was there.

In alarm, King flew back from the camera, pulling the necklace away. In an instant the aura disappeared.

King approached and experimentally held just the necklace above before taking it away again and trying to search for an aura trail.

“Oh, you sly bastard!” King realized as he pulled out the very dagger that had caused part of his soul to split off and create Lunky. He’d kept it because he was certainly not letting the Jims get their hands on the knife again. “I fucking found you!”

King tried to drive the soul splitter into the camera and some protective spell fanned out to break the soul splitter and bruised King’s hand.

At first King thought his hand had been broken or fractured, but as the pain subdued to a dull, aching throb, he began trying to move it and realized that at worst it had bruised his bone.

“Fucking shit!” King hissed as Silver ran over to him. The force of the barrier spell and King’s attempted blow had caused the table to break and the camera to fall to the ground, undamaged by the fall.

Nanites surged out of some unseen compartment in the camera and created a projection disk. There was a whirl and a hum, before a holographic symbol hovering in the air. It was a blackened symbol of three heads and dozens of arms surrounding it, the only words there were: “Hecatoncheires Projects Presents:”

The symbol lasted for a second before the projection showed an image of future Logan, Spade, standing in front of them.

Spade’s projection smiled at them and he took a deep breath before he greeted them, “Heroes.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations:

1. Fuck-all

2. to

3. Put everything back and pretend nothing’s happened? All you’ve told us about this thing is that it’s dangerous or something

4. going to

5. Grandfather; Korean. Specifically the informal way to address your paternal grandfather. Phonically read as “halabeoji”

6. something

7. for

8. lightning