#I understand to a certain extent because she's a single mother to an only child but there comes a point she has to realise

[s4pphic-sh3nan1gans]

love that my mum just gave me a lecture (more like an unnecessary reason to argue with me though tbh) about internet safety as if I'm doing something really terrible and I'm a vulnerable, naïve child when I'm literally almost 20 years old :)

[tetsunabouquet]

Attack On Titan: Babydaddy Headcanons

A/N: This is just me thinking about how many they'd have, the gender and how they would raise them, etc.

Levi

-This man is a girl dad in the sense he only had one child and its a daughter. -It was a conscious decision. Whilst he loves you and would never deny you the joy of a child if you wanted to be a mom, he's also a man that lives a life of danger. Even if he's humanity's soldier, he has enough emotional awareness to know there are times where you or your daughter will worry and he wants to keep the number of people worried about him as low as possible. -He's not overprotective because she's an Ackerman but if someone even thinks of laying a hand on his daughter he'd chop their fingers off before they even reach her scalp. -As soon as she's old enough to fight, Levi will train her just like Kenny taught him because he knows the world is that cruel. However, any titan she interacts with until she's actually old enough to be a soldier will be none except for Hange's test subjects so she can see the danger she might choose with her own eyes to make an informed decision. -A secret reason he also shows her Hange's test subjects is that he wants to provide her with an example how not to interact with titans in Hange.

Eren

-Was a girl dad until his final kid popped out as a boy. -Armin pointed out the funny coincidence of his family unit being inverse to his own childhood; considering Grisha used to be a boy dad until adopting Mikasa. -Low-key looked good whenever his daughters would do his hair. Sometimes you wonder if looking like Carla is why Eren looks good with the sloppy feminine hairstyles. -He doesn't loves his son any less though. If anything, the way his daughters act towards him reminds him of how Mikasa used to treat him so whenever his son feels smothered, he understands his son and has his back. -In this scenario, his titan form obviously doesn't come with the 13 year curse limitations so he's somewhat worse as Levi when it comes to harming his kids. Because Eren would just squash them like bugs in his titan form.

Zeke

-Only becomes a father because he got drunk with you, who he already felt conflicted about loving. So like Levi, he makes the conscious decision to keep it at that one kid. -I do think Zeke would have a boy though. -He would play baseball with his son every day and try to be the father Ksaver was to him. -Zeke's plans to euthanize the Subjects of Ymir morphs into a plan to mutate all Subjects of Ymir into the same condition as the Ackerman clan and destroy the titan ability itself which would leave him as the final inheritor of the Beast Titan (speaking of which I might someday make a post with all the alternatives to the Rumbling that Isayama couldn't think of when he wrote himself into a corner) -Because of his negative experience with education and indoctrination, Zeke actually is an advocate for unschooling to a certain extent. He will teach his kid to read, write and basics but he's not fond of certain subjects like history because its in their world just filled with propoganda that Zeke is tired of.

Reiner

-Was very insecure about becoming a dad considering his own was happily a deadbeat but once he started having kids he couldn't stop at one so he had 4 kids. -Has two boys and two girls. -Because he was raised by a single mom, he works extra hard to be a good husband and father not just for the sake of the kids or his love for them. No, its also out of his devotion to you and not wanting you to know the hardships his mother faced in the slightest. -The sort of father who proudly displays the artwork of his children around his Vice Chief office at the Marleyan governmental building. -Teaches his sons to be better men and not make the mistakes he did as he teaches his daughters not to allow men to use them for their bodies in the way his mother was used and discarded. The way he goes about their gender roles and preparing them for life can be quite feminist for the time period AOT is set in but due to his upbringing and knowing so many powerful women, it shaped him quite a bit.

Armin

-A boy and a girl -Armin really wanted a mini you so when your first was a boy, he tried again and got what he wanted. -Not that he doesn't loves his son though, and thinks he's way cuter then he ever was as a child, which he reasons is your genetic makeup's doing. -Touch his children and he will find a way to poison you. He's way more clever and sneaky when it comes to taking revenge compared to Levi and Eren. -Similar to Reiner, he eats up anything his kids make and finds the most horrible drawings of a cat to be the best amazing artwork ever.

Erwin

-Just like Levi, being part of the scouts made him restrict himself to one child. -However, unlike Levi, he has a harder time as your child tempts him into wanting more of them as he loves seeing the union of yours and his features. -It's a boy -Hange often teases you and Erwin that he and Historia's daughter might become an item as they grew up together as babes of the Scouts regiment. -Has a habit of dropping asleep right next to his son after he's come home after a long day of titan slaying and reports about it.

[lime1991]

My dsmp Tubbo and Tommy canons (I can do whatever I want and these are canon facts to me)

Tubbo:

-smoked cigarettes a lot during the Schlatt administration to get away from all of the… everything. Fundy was the one who started this for him.

-hates alcohol because of Schlatt and Wilbur. Before being part of Schlatt’s cabinet he had to deal with Wilbur being drunk and mentally ill too.

-is Wilbur’s adopted brother, calls Phil by his name instead of “dad” even though he was literally raised by him. Also doesn’t call Wilbur his brother unless it’s brought up in some way.

-Tommy is his best friend. He is Tommy’s favorite person. Their conversations are very monotone.

-has breathing problems due to smoking. Has tried to quit, but can’t. Instead smokes weed every so often because it’s better than nicotine.

-has bipolar disorder, when he’s manic he wakes up at 5 am and does yard work. When he’s depressed, he can’t get out of bed for days. He knows he’s bipolar, many people do, but it still was a reason his marriage fell apart (not his fault)

-he did not get custody of Michael when he and Ranboo divorced, because he didn’t fight for it because doesn’t think he can really raise a child with all his personal issues (in a “I would never have kids because I’m too mentally ill and traumatized” way)

-bonded with Quackity during the Schlatt administration, is maybe the only one who knows to what extent Quackity was fucked up by Schlatt. They have a weird relationship that’s similar to a mother and son. Don’t question it.

-I’m a fan of dadschlatt so in my brain Tubbo is Schlatt’s biological son, and they only find this out when they’re working together and Schlatt grills him on his family history and it strangely matches up with that one time Schlatt decided to leave the girl he accidentally impregnated and fully skip town. So when Schlatt and Quackity get married Quackity is basically Tubbo’s stepmom.

-he and Wilbur are like 12 years apart, when Fundy is born, Wilbur is 20. When Fundy and Tubbo meet for the first time, Fundy is 8 and Tubbo is 16. And, yes, Tubbo went to live with Wilbur when he turned 16 for reasons and was like “Wil who the fuck is this child” and Wilbur is like “oh that’s my daughter” ???

Tommy:

-trans girl.

-met Wilbur before she met Tubbo. They lived in the same place. When Tubbo went to live with Wilbur he was immediately bombarded by a strange hyperactive fifteen year old.

-Tommy’s parents left her. She didn’t believe that they did at first, but they did. (By the way I’ve decided L’Manburg was a commune) Because her parents have left her alone on the commune, she’s sort of raised by all of the adults and herself. This is how she knows Wilbur.

-has bpd and severe abandonment issues. Originally attached herself to Wilbur before meeting Tubbo and becoming close with him. During the Pogtopia era, Tommy goes insane and completely attaches herself to Wilbur again.

-When Wilbur dies during war, Tommy’s whole personality switches and instead of being majorly depressed she pretends that it didn’t happen and stays completely delusional for like a month.

-during Exile, she had time to think about herself and her identity and it’s when she comes out to herself as trans. Dream is also the first person she actually comes out to. And I can’t decide if Ghostbur is a hallucination or not, but Tommy doesn’t know either it’s ok.

-very delusional. Like, schizophrenic. Genuinely believed during Exile that Dream was her best friend and wasn’t like beating her and destroying her stuff every single day. Dream doesn’t understand if she’s being serious when she’s like “hi bestie” so he keeps doing worse and worse wondering how much it’ll take to break her.

-gets therapy and takes antipsychotics now. Always brings up the stories of the wildest delusional episodes she’s ever experienced. During exile she was certain she had like 5 girlfriends at once.

-when she ends up trapped in jail with Dream she almost kills herself before Dream does it for her. The pain of being trapped with him again was worse than emotional. Worse than ptsd.

-has complicated feelings towards Quackity, will never forget the time she watched him and Schlatt argue. She’d never heard a “loving couple” sound that angry before. Though she doesn’t know every little detail about the relationship.

[connoisseursdecomfort]

Is Anya unrealistic

I never thought I’m going to write this but... I have no hate on any other shows. This is just a personal observation about kids, and let’s agree to disagree.

I just find it unfair to call Anya unrealistic. Mostly because all stories have to contain a certain level of realism to make it relatable. The only part unrealistic is that she is a telepath. The realistic part is that even if you tell a child every single thing that is in your head and try to explain why it is so, chances are the child will not understand, because have you ever tried to reason with a child by laying out facts made as easily understood as possible? (Stupid teenager me had.) That is where the comedy comes from. Obviously telepathy doesn’t really make Anya understand more about people. Her constant misinterpretation on people’s thoughts and words is literally play for laughs in both the anime and the manga. Endo made it clear that she doesn’t understand much despite the amount of thoughts she hears.

You would hear/read that quite a lot of people say Anya is quite believable as a 4 or 5 year old. They see Anya on other children, and more importantly they see echoes of their own childhood on Anya. To a certain extent Anya has to be realistic enough to be relatable, even for children. There’s a poll in Japan asking primary students who they admire the most. Anya came third, while "friends” and “mom” came first and second.

I’m not going to say Anya is an ordinary child due to her experiences, but then she’s an anime character. Most often even in the most SoL of SoL shows there has to be something extraordinary about the characters for them and/or the show to stand out. That’s why I find it unfair to say something like, oh this child sounds more like the children I know so the other child is “unrealistic”. Let me give you some of my examples.

A. I babysat a child. She’s four. It’s not that her parents don’t want her, but there are some complications so she’s currently living with a relative. It is apparent that the relative she’s living with loves her very much, and they are very close. She will soon go back and live with her parents. She is energetic, but she understands your reasonings and instructions and is very well-behaved. She doesn't really mess around.

B. I was walking on the street. A child, most likely 4-5, was throwing a tantrum. The mother threatened to count to three and if he didn’t stop there will be consequences. When the mother counted to two, the child cried even louder. The mother never counted to three.

C. My cousin is thirteen years younger than me. Our families are very close and we would have gatherings every week. When my cousin was a small child, she was shy but stubborn. She’s a tiny bit spoiled but overall well-behaved. She’s never a noisy child.

D. My younger brother, on the other hand, is the polar opposite. Loud and energetic. Very cunning and dramatic. My brother obviously knew he’s cute and smart. That doesn’t mean he can’t be the sweetest kid in the world.

There are many more examples but I’m not going to bother you with that. The point is, they are all kids, but they are all different. You won’t find a parenting book that is universal enough to solve all your problems. It could be useful for your first child but could be absolute trash when it comes to your second-born. Because they are inexperienced tiny human-beings being shaped by circumstances while growing up.

Admittedly, Anya is a calmer child. But then she was experimented on and abandoned four times. From my own observation, children know, and they learn from their experience. Remember the four-year-old I mentioned? After she visited my house, my mom was talking about that little kid, and commented how “all children test your limits by pushing your boundaries.” Even when they are four. Children are not dummies. They learn from your responses to their actions. Not saying that they will not ever mess up once they know where your limits are, but they do try to do better according to the reactions of others.

What I appreciate about the children in sxf is that Endo gives them different personalities and goals. Most often reactors to the show would say something like “that’s so Becky” or “that’s Anya being Anya” instead of “yeah, kids”. I see my six-year-old self, who watched way too many soap operas and tried hard to act like an adult but was way too dramatic, in Becky. I also see myself in Damian, because I remember myself working hard to gain my parents’ attention.

(But then a lot of people did say I acted more grown-up than others. That still doesn’t mean I was “mature” tho.)

They are not defined by their childish behaviours. I think I saw a comment stating the reason why the person think Anya’s a good child character, and it’s because children are still human-beings but with very limited experience. Endo did a good job in trying to show you Anya’s thought process. Anya behaved like that not because Anya is a child and all children do that. Anya thinks before she acts but she still acts like a child because of her own (limited) experience and child logics and misinterpretations. Like all other children, she understands very little, and that’s why she acts like the gremlin she is.

So yeah. There are people who don’t like kids, and there are people who prefer other child characters over Anya. I get it. But em, no, you don’t need to do that to Anya, or Endo, or people who have worked/are currently still working on the sxf project. They have their own vision they want to share with the audience, and they have their own experiences with kids, too. You really don’t need to say things like, my show or the characters I like is realer than yours. That might not even be the point, but still.

Like what you like. Focus on the positives about the characters you like. And have a nice day I guess.

[satsuha]

you are SO RIGHT!! agnene is sooo cute and you’ve really opened my eyes to the extent of how much it works. the parallels you drew between them and temehika also make a lot of sense.

similarly, now that you mention it, i definitely understand what you mean about the crossed path story.. i haven’t played since the game released (i plan on replaying when the anniversary arrives) so i my memory wasn’t the clearest. i’d completely forgotten about yomi ooops.. and you’re right that they really should have touched more on agnea’s past, especially since both she and hikari have lost their mothers. it could have been so sweet to see them exchanging stories about them. i do wish that had happened :(

this is somewhat unrelated but i’m vehemently against the temenos/throné ship because i kind of see them as siblings? (SPOILERS BTW) idk i saw a really good theory about temenos also being one of Mr “So i inpregnated countless women” Guy’s children (was his name claude? i’m blanking suddenly) and while i’m not usually one to go all in on believing fan theories, the theory was so compelling that every time i see them shipped it makes me just a bit uncomfortable lmao. that’s just how my brain works i guess

argh in conclusion there were so many links that could have been drawn between certain characters that the game didn’t want to touch on and it’s such a shame. i get that they didn’t want to make any protags More Prominent than the others and that’s hard to pull off but my imagination definitely runs wild with all the possibilities (i will never see that end-game “why was temenos doing all the heavy lifting” scene the same way after what you did with it hehe)

hehe my agnene agenda... i unfortunately don't have enough hands to draw them as much as i'd like to but yeah they're so cute to me 😭 and yeah i understand! i'm also going through my second playthrough (albeit slowly lol i started in may and am still on it) but i do check videos online pretty often when i want to talk about something so i'm more or less refreshed on the events of the game

and ooogh... that theory... okay well for some context i only came across it when someone told me it was canon that temenos was claude's son and i was so horrified that i'd missed something but it turns out people had just misinterpreted arcanette's line directed at throne o<-< i think the theory is... fine but it doesn't really affect any part of temenos' character for me since the only real thing claude's children have in common is that they were forced into the blacksnakes' bloodbath but temenos wasn't a part of that so... i also think it suits him better that he's just some ordinary guy because his story seems to push the fact that he's in a role he was never destined for (in an "ideal" world, it would've been roi who was the chosen cleric for the story but temenos was forced to take up the mantle)

UHHH but yeah regardless of temenos' parentage i got pretty strong sibling/platonic vibes from his and throne's interactions anyway... i like their dynamic the most amongst the crossed paths pairs because temenos is just constantly telling throne off for her bad behaviour like a child and i find it amusing lol

i'm always stuck between wanting more of a certain kind of interaction (because i think some banters were lacklustre) and being fine with it because it means i can be delusional and just fill in the gaps myself lmao... THAT scene still boggles my mind i can't think of a single reason why temenos would be the one carrying the water JKFGHJKA but temehika going off as a pair regardless of what they are doing will always make me happy.... 🥰

[limeade-l3sbian]

the bruise analogy makes sense. except it’s more like she left a gaping wound and then this eventually scarred over and now hurts when it rains. it was about my mom, whom i love dearly. but i also hate a lot at times. i hate that i hate her. it sounds stupid. but i truly do wanna forgive her but i also feel like i can never truly make peace with the stuff in my childhood and teen years. the choices she made. the choices she didn’t make. feeling othered in my own home for my whole childhood. we have had many blow up fights over the years and gone no contact two times over it. and now we truly are in a better place. i sent her years ago a long detailed mail of my feelings. i expressed them without anger. and finally something clicked and she apologized sincerely. she also changed the behavior still left over that damages me. and while i have received therapy and while i can understand my mom did not have it easy as a single mother to two kids, this hateful resentment never is fully gone and it shows it’s ugly face when i’m depressive. it makes me want to lash out. cause even a smidgen of the same hurt she did me. i don’t. but the want is there. makes me want to cut her out completely. but i don’t because i know that hurts immensely too. so i’m forced to sit in this love/hate. i wish i was a better person bc that would probably have made me able to forgive her truly. and i guess i do forgive her to an extent, rationally at least. but emotionally, my childhood and teen years are unforgivable.

having such complicated feelings are tiring. i wish sometimes emotions were much more one noted. a lot more comprehensible.

ah, the parent trauma. that's much harder to get through.

i'll be honest, anon. i struggle with the same thing. i love my mom but like you said, there was a lot of neglect and anger in my childhood that left a lot to be desired. it stunted me and had an effect on my actual life progress. she's apologized many times but the dynamic between parent and child is much harder to navigate through. mainly because in a lot of situations, we want to keep in touch with the person who raised us. i can't help but credit some parts of who i am today towards her, though the same can be said about the bad parts like certain fears and insecurities.

i can't say "this is exactly what you should do!" but i find that space between me and my mom has helped tremendously. unfortunately, i think in these types of situations, the only way that that wound can at least start to heal or become less noticeable is when you give it room to breathe. also, share this with her!

one thing that i didn't mention in the analogy bc i didn't want it to go on forever lmao was that A should, for her benefit and the relationship, tell B that they were still a little upset. Talking through things can be annoying, and you'll feel tired as FUCK. But you'll definitely start to notice the changes.

[thecolorsofpain]

Hearts intertwined

Well, just imagine one day sitting in front of a window pane as the sun strikes harshly on your right cheek, and as you are looking at the flowers you nurture daily on the window frame.

They are trying to grow, trying to grasp all the sunlight they can and suddenly makes you think... You are all alone since you´re a child. I was always expecting, I was growing, I was learning, I was feeling, was repeating everything, patters, behaviours, scenarios, weathers, smells. When I was little I was happy because all I had to do was play and explore and learn and receive from my family.

I wasn’t really seeking complicated answers to questions of the human behaviour. I was only getting to know the world for the first time. Even while my home was occasionally on fire, steaming, cold, and warm.

It’s when I was at an adolescent stage when it all started. Where I started to feel immersively curious of my surroundings, and why the people around me acted the way they did or said the things they said, the combination of everything always trigger people to a certain extent. It was when I knew my home was really on fire. Most of the time I had a notion that the people living with me were always angry, but hurting people hurting each other. And I thought this was temporary. There was never a pot of gold after the storm because the storm were the people and they could never seem to ease it. Infinitely dragged into many storms everyday until it created my very own storm in the present. A storm every day as a child until spring and sunny days felt as drought. Scared they wouldn´t last enough for me to recoup from the sorrow. Nevertheless, I was still hopeful that one day we would be a happy family together, even when my sister had to leave for an entire year. A year I had to survive all on my own. Withstanding my mother´s mental instability with my stupid child innocence. Being beaten and abused, neglected and silenced. I had a strange hope that she would come back to save the harmony of the family one day.

Maybe in the meanwhile I could keep it together. I thought I did I thought my parents did it for me sometimes but truth is we weren’t. I grew up to think everything would get better even though everything got worse day by day I still had hope but everything got worse. Revolution started inside me during puberty I started to let friends and people wildly mistreat me with the feeling of familiar warmth. I thought romantic relationships could give me back the feeling of my childhood by creating an alliance with another child like me. I even accepted the hints of their storms to make it feel even more familiar, but I realize too late it wasn´t a healthy lifestyle.

I fantasized meeting someone who would understand who I am. I never stayed. I always ran away. It was never like home even though it started like it but it was all the illusion. I tried so hard to pick and unravel every single familiar detail in them that I could grasp and make mine but they were never enough. Not a single one of them were close to being like me.

And I still think sometimes love will be able to create the home I always wanted in the beginning of my life, as a baby. If only I clinged to NO expectations at all. That’s how I was brought to life, family wanting a family, wanting love and commitment, They failed, but I don’t want to fail, I cant fail, not if I can control it but I dont wish to control circumstances, I dont wish to pick but be picked, I have let circumstances and currents lead me to love. Circumstances and currents have failed to make me happy. I have never tampered or manipulated my way in a person`s life, that is vile and macabre, meaningless. What is worse than meaningless voids and circumstances? I don’t think I will fail, but I do think I will fail to not miss the pass. I wish I had with my parents and my sisters and my brothers, my grandparents and my aunts, uncles, cousins all together in the same story to enjoy. I will fail to make peace with pain and suffering. It’s not hard to figure me out if you have in mind I am just a sad being a sad little girl forever If you take a long look in my eyes you will see that all I ever wanted was to be the hero of my own story, save my family from their own demise if it meant me dying. Being a witness has been a very painful, haunting and beautiful experience in a very odd way. IF only there was something I could do to save my father, I would give away half of my life to save his other half.

I wish grudges were crushed and love reborn, Everything forgiven and joy everlasting.

[detached-emotions]

02:30 08/28/23

Tonight, my mother and I truly connected during a conversation about space, which was a departure from her usual religious perspective. Recently, she's become more open-minded. After watching a podcast interview featuring a woman who had been to space, she became captivated by the story and displayed genuine curiosity about the subject. As a child, I often tried sharing space facts with her, but my efforts were always brushed aside. Throughout my childhood, she ensured I had food on the table, even during tough times, but unfortunately, she never sought to understand me. What I craved most from her was her time and attention.

The fact that she's now showing interest in my past passions brings mixed feelings. My mother remarked on how mind-blowing it must be to experience space firsthand, leading us into a discussion about its logistics. I informed her that only a small percentage of the universe has been explored, which surprised her. This led her to share her thoughts on the potential afterlife, a departure from the beliefs she might have adhered to in her religious bubble. It's possible that her inclination to talk stems from my grandmother's illness, making her yearn for deeper connections, just as I do.

In contemplating the afterlife, she mused about its nature. I hinted at my own theories but hesitated to share them fully, not wanting to overwhelm her. I hold the belief that the mysterious dark matter in the universe serves as a barrier preventing us from going beyond a certain point. Furthermore, I believe that if we were to breach this barrier, we'd discover that the entire universe constitutes a single entity—an entity of energy, devoid of a perceivable physical form. Yet, it is sensed through infinite versions of itself, simulated within every individual on Earth. This concept explains phenomena like déjà vu, astral projection, ghosts, astrology, parallel universes, and even maladaptive daydreams. This is precisely why I chose to tread lightly with this explanation.

Simultaneously, I was cautious not to arouse suspicion, especially because I had relapsed into substance abuse. Regrettably, addiction has been my coping mechanism due to the trauma I experienced during my early years. A second addiction took hold at the end of 2020, a response to the dehumanizing environment I faced in my retail job. My previous supplier supported me until her arrest in March of 2021. I managed a period of sobriety until connecting with a new source on 4/20/2021. However, this pattern persisted until 7/08/2022, when my stash was discovered by my mother. While our trust wavered, we reconciled after I promised to confide in her if my depression reached the levels of last December. Unfortunately, I failed to uphold that promise, succumbing to a relapse on April 4th.

It's likely that my mother suspects my ongoing struggle, but given the myriad challenges we're currently facing, she might be letting go to some extent. I can't fault her for that, especially since I've been far from an honest and responsible daughter. Fortunately, I've managed to maintain employment, defying the stereotype of a lazy addict.

My lack of fear for the repercussions stems from the fact that my brain chemistry has undergone irreversible changes due to substance use. I've come to terms with this, as I don't anticipate surviving my twenties. My perspective isn't born out of melodramatics but rather a response to the grim state of the world. The current environmental crisis and the economic struggles leave me living paycheck to paycheck. Without my mother's support and that of her friend, I'd be homeless. Adulthood has proven to be a challenge, and my struggles are compounded by my C-PTSD and the early signs of schizophrenia that are emerging within my fragile mind.

Interestingly, at my workplace, I'm perceived as a well-behaved and somewhat aloof individual. Little do they know... Sometimes, I catch myself staring at my reflection, practicing various facial expressions as a means of disassociation. I prepare my "mugshot" expression, acknowledging the possibility that I might need it for a photo opportunity in the future.

LISTENING TO: 🎶“You’re going to reap just what you sow” 🎶 Perfect Day (Lou Reed song)

I'd like to share this picture with you. I've HEAVILY edited it, but the original artwork was created on a brick wall that had been scratched and colored with chalk on Friday. The creator remains anonymous; I stumbled upon this piece on the side of a building in a shady part of town while I was running errands.

[myreygn]

genius additions by @kanawolf again (fourth pic is me reading them let's all pretend that i look like margot robbie thank you)

what you mentioned about sanemi's actions indirectly (or at least involuntarily) causing genya's demise is so painful because that is exactly what sanemi thinks he did. he hurt his brother so much, he pushed him away all these years and abandoned him - for what? what did it lead to in the end? that's what makes him a monster, not that he did all of these insanely messed up things that he genuinely thought were right but that they were pointless. they accomplished nothing in the end, just made everything more painful for everyone involved.

that's what he does, isn't it? fucking ruining everything wherever he goes. spends all these years mistreating genya - genya dies. (presumably) takes a major chunk of the abuse his father put the kids through to protect his siblings - they die before they can even grow old enough to understand the full gravity of their father. tries so hard to protect his mother from his father (even though he shouldn't have to do this, that's not his job, he's a child) and they manage to get through this horrible time, they manage to survive the man who they thought was gonna be the death of them some day - and not only does she die, she dies at sanemi's hands.

i didn't even think about this aspect of him literally becoming his father in that regard, or what they always thought his father would eventually become but now that you mention it this makes everything so much worse. i don't even have any additions, you said it all - i just want to add that i 100% agree that sanemi hates himself. that is genuinely canon to me, i take that as granted.

i didn't watch the good place and i didn't know the quote but it really sets into perspective how hard it is to assign a person to put the blame on. is sanemi to blame? well yeah obviously, to a certain extent, but to what extent? how much of the shit that went down is on his father? how much of it is to be blamed on his age, how much on his trauma? is there any blame to be put on genya? maybe, for the murderer comment, but also no what the hell no way he was a kid. sanemi was a kid too, sanemi was older than genya, does that make a difference? personally i find it very difficult - who's the biggest victim in this? what, are we comparing trauma now? is a victim who becomes an abuser as a result of being a victim any less of a victim?

it's messy and complicated and heart wrenching. i have to be very honest and tell you that my sickness is frying my brain a little right now and the only conclusion i can draw is that all of them deserved better.

one more thing though: i work at an elementary school and recently i overheard a colleague of mine talk about a six year old troublemaker to the kid's grandma, they were discussing how they could deal with the child and work together better. and my colleague said: "i've been in this field for seven years and i've encountered a lot of messy heads but not a single bad heart."

do you ever think about how sanemi's animosity towards tanjiro makes so much sense from a narrative perspective because tanjiro is literally everything sanemi isn't?

both of them lose their fathers at a very young age, only that sanemi's father was a horrible abusive jerk who inflicted severe trauma upon his entire family while tanjiro's father was the coolest guy around whose lessons continue to motivate tanjiro and impact his life in a positive way.

both of them have to deal with a beloved family member turning into a demon, only that sanemi ends up killing his mother and has to come to terms with the fact that although she became a monster he still killed his mother while tanjiro manages to guide his sister through her monstrosity and finds ways to help her keep her humanity in tact.

both of them lose their families with only one younger sibling remaining, only that sanemi and genya get separated and estranged while tanjiro and nezuko never lose their close relationship.

[spoilers below the cut]

both of them have to deal with their younger sibling being a demon (one way or the other), only that sanemi's hatred towards demons as a whole makes it impossible for him to look at genya the same way while tanjiro loves his sister all the same, no matter if she's demon or human.

both of them try to protect their younger siblings from danger, only that sanemi can't think of anything but straight up abuse to try and push genya away which remains unsuccessful while tanjiro and nezuko work together well during fights and tanjiro still manages to keep her safe.

both of them fight with the goal to keep their siblings alive, only that genya dies and leaves sanemi with a ton of guilt and regret while tanjiro and nezuko get their happy ending.

both of them are thrown into the conflict between demons and humans out of nowhere, only that sanemi spends a considerable amount of time on his own, killing demons without any assistance while tanjiro gets sent of with a hashira recommendation letter to urokodaki's where he receives a proper training and finds a new home and family.

both of them find companions along the way and form meaningful relationships with them, only that masachika dies young with sanemi being unable to protect him while tanjiro, zenitsu and inosuke stay together through everything and manage to survive even the final battle.

and a lot of this is meta knowledge, a lot of this is information that sanemi doesn't have about tanjiro. but he does have some of it and i think it's enough knowledge for me to put up this theory: sanemi envies tanjiro. because both of them went through unspeakable trauma and grief, both of them lost people close to them, both of them had to deal with similar situations.

and yet tanjiro is kind. he's friendly and good, people trust him, people love to befriend them and he inspires them wherever he goes while sanemi is bitter and nasty and simply incapable of forming and maintaining these connections in the way tanjiro is because who'd want to be friends with a cruel jerk right? and tanjiro loves to take lonely people under his wing, but not even he is willing to forgive sanemi for most of the story and i can only imagine how that must sting because no one wants to be lonely and yet sanemi can't even blame him. he wouldn't forgive himself either.

[weirwoodweirds]

Here’s the thing that house of the dragon has made me realize. Rhaenyra has, at every point, every single one, been given the benefit of the doubt. Even among royalty she is massively privileged, as is Daemon, because of viserys. There’s loyalty to your family and then there’s willful blindness. And to a certain extent, it’s understandable, it’s almost kind, that viserys truly is so devoted to Rhaenyra, but we know, and she knows, it’s out of guilt. Ep1 Rhaenyra makes clear her relationship with her father is not close, he wants a son and she doesn’t want the crown anyway. It’s only after Aemma and Baelon’s death, when she’s named heir, does he put her on this pedestal, and even then in her youth he still acts like a father, chastises her and curbs the privilege that he and Daemon had at her age. But it’s not out of love, it’s because he killed her mother, and she’s all he has left. Same with Daemon, if he loved Daemon, truly loved him, he would recognize that he cannot control him, but Daemon is all that’s left of Alyssa and Baelon.

Yet he never extends this privilege, this benefit of the doubt, to his children by Alicent. I won’t speak of Alicent here; she has her own issues with privilege and responsibility in dichotomy to Rhaenyra and smarter people than me have gotten into it. But what few interactions we’ve seen of him with Aegon and aemond(none with helaena, I might add) he does not treat them like family, like his children, and certainly not like princes. Hell, the interrogation of Aemond in ep7 mirrored the events in GoT that led to Lady’s death, an act that ultimately drew a massive rift between Sansa and Arya as sisters. I’ll come back to that.

Viserys is not solely to blame. Alicent is just as complicit. It is one hundred percent clear from the get go that her children are a duty and an obligation, and while they maybe weren’t always and that’s come from years of shitty marriage, it’s true come episode 6. She gives aegon no privacy, gives aemond the bare bones amount of sympathy, doesn’t even attempt to understand helaena. And aegon says clearly in ep7 that Alicent betrothed him to helaena; a match that he, at least, clearly wasn’t happy with, and though we haven’t gotten helaena’s thoughts on the subject she’s clearly gentle and fragile and does not compliment aegon. The match is pure politics, but it’s not even good politics; blood of the dragon yadayada but Alicent herself is not blood of the dragon. It’s not one hundred percent unknown to marry into other houses; Rhaenys’s mother was a Baratheon, aemma was an Arryn. Alicent could have easily made calculated political matches to secure her childrens futures and secure allies by marrying them to other houses, or for godssakes she could have been done with the whole thing and we’d helaena to have, ensuring Rhaenyra would not harm her children. But no. She has no conception other than what these people with their “queer customs” keep saying about the blood of the dragon, and besides if either of them were to leave kings landing then she wouldn’t have control over them. I mean she slaps aegon in front of a room full of people, her father manhandles the kid, no wonder he ends up being such a shit. But still, of course they end up loyal to her, because she’s the only person giving them the slightest amount of affection or support, no matter how double edged it is.

If there was any love, ignoring love, respect or sense or duty in viserys towards his children there would have been some kind of punishment. Now I agree that taking a kids eye out is a bit much but still, at the very least reprimanding. But no, he harasses his sons over something he knows is true but refuses to believe because then his worldview would collapse. And I compare it to the Lady Incident for several reasons; let me be entirely clear, Viserys is not Robert in this situation, he’s Cersei. Fiercely devoted to their child to the point where they will lie for them, ignore all wrongdoing, anything to stake their claim? Alicent is Ned. And I’m gonna say some stuff about Ned that a lot of people aren’t gonna like now; misplaced devotion to ideals and the conceptualization of people rather than people themselves, obsessed with honor and duty to the point where they actively harm themselves and those they love. And Aemond, like Sansa, lied, threw aegon under the bus out of fear. And if I’m reading my parallels right, their relationship is not going to recover from that. They’re already at odds over Helaena, it’s only gonna get worse. Because of Viserys. And Alicent is no better. She didn’t pull a knife on Rhaenyra for aemonds sake, she did it for herself, for her pride, for her grudge against Rhaenyra.

So it’s no wonder aemond and aegon grow up to hate Rhaenyra, to want her dead. She’s been given everything they’ve lacked, every benefit that their father denied them. It’s fascinating to see, and honestly fucking heartbreaking.

[tempenensis]

Fushiguro Megumi: the protector

One of the things that makes jjk very interesting is how Gege writes the characters in a way that freed them from a number of stereotypes usually found in shonen manga in relation to how their appearance are. And that makes the character in this manga feels more layered. One of the example is our deuteragonist himself, Fushiguro Megumi. 

Fushiguro is one of characters that make you thought of certain stereotype - but as the story progresses and his character is explored more, he is actually different from the stereotype of dark brooding rival of the protagonist his appearance is based of.

On his first appearance, Fushiguro is shown to be someone serious, seemingly a stickler for rules and formality, as he speaks in honorifics to Gojo in the phone -- even if it’s him saying that he will punch Gojo. When he speaks to Gojo, there’s a strange mix of formality and familiarity, which is a given considering their long history.

He even cites the law of jujutsu for the reasoning of Itadori’s execution right after Sukuna incarnates even though Itadori eats the finger because he is also trying to save Fushiguro. However once Gojo appears and asks what he should do to Itadori, his answer is right on the opposite direction. 

And from this point on, we know that he is never ‘just a simple rival’.

1. Not even a rival

Itadori and Fushiguro’s dynamic is one of the focal point that drives the story of jjk, among others.  

but who’s to say that someone you save won’t kill anyone in the future? 

Fushiguro and Itadori share the same fixation on saving people. While Itadori wants to give “proper death”, or save as many people as he can from curses, Fushiguro rather listens to his own conscience, where he want to give good people what they deserve. And this believe of his rooted from the ‘undeserving’ situation he feels is granted to his sister in this life. This different ideals made the two of them clash during Cursed womb arc, but they settles their difference pretty quickly out of respect for each other, and this connects the two of them closer than them to other characters.

For Fushiguro, Itadori has become someone as important as Tsumiki despite only knowing him for a short time - and likewise, Itadori also thought Fushiguro as important. Fushiguro, in addition, also feels that he bears the responsibility of keeping Itadori alive and shoulders the consequence of every action Itadori and Sukuna does, since Itadori consumed Sukuna to help him in the first place. That is the reason his first fight with Sukuna happens after all; him staying behind out of feeling responsible.

And this responsibility develop into the necessity to protect Itadori, both from  literal harm (the Kyoto students trying to assassinate him) and from metaphorical one. Likewise, Itadori not telling Fushiguro what Sukuna told him is also to protect Fushiguro from the guilt that will consequently arise. 

While there is a bit of rivalry, it doesn’t become something that the two of them fixated on. It does feed on their growth, but this rivalry mostly takes a backseat - it will, when he lives in a world where everything, even the authority, is trying to kill his closest friend and someone he is trying hard to protect.  

2. To die or not to die

Fushiguro’s nature as a protector is rooted in his personality. Because of his upbringing and precociousness, he has his own view of what he think to be ‘good’ and ‘bad' that is very personal to him.

Fushiguro has certain degree ‘sense of justice’ based on his notion. During this flashback, he picks fight with the delinquents not because they attacks him personally and not because anyone asks him for help, but just because he thought that they are wrong in bullying their classmates. 

At first he is not inclined to be a jujutsushi because saving people doesn’t fit into that notion of his. The work of a jujutsushi is in its heart is to save people and it’s tailored for not only the one who has the ability, but also the compassion to do it. Something that is unthinkable for junior high Fushiguro.

It’s Tsumiki’s curse that change Fushiguro. He is started to driven to save people like Tsumiki. And also, if there is someone that can solve the case of Tsumiki’s curse, it will be a jujutsushi.  

He feels that a lot of people he thought to be ‘good’ given unfairness in life. Like his sister who was cursed and fallen into coma, and Itadori who ate Sukuna then received death penalty.

I will save people unequally!

His personal sense of justice drives Megumi to help and save them in his own brand of heroism stemmed from his ego of choosing who’ll he save and who won’t. ‘Good people’ affects Fushiguro deeply that out of respect for Itadori who had died, he does something that usually he doesn’t do. 

While he sees both his sister and Itadori to be the same good kind, he judges himself to be different from them and he doesn’t care if he is ‘not right’. He doesn’t feel that he deserves the salvation as deserved by ‘good people’ and this reflects mainly in his... um... suicidal, sacrificial tendency. 

Every single time he is cornered in battle, he used to resort to summoning Makora - which essentially means he will die. He doesn’t think that his death is matter at all for anyone else as long as his purpose in winning the fight is fulfilled - which actually not necessarily true. 

It’s a good thing that after his training with Gojo, Megumi starts to realize the importance of him not resorting to ‘winning by dying’. This point in Shibuya actually marks a significant development of his character - even if he still summon Makora after.

3. Blood does not necessarily run thicker  

One of the most surprising aspect of Fushiguro is how he readily discarded the identity that comes with his bloodline. A contrast from Kamo and a point that makes their clash during Goodwill event arc very interesting. For Kamo whose mother left him so she doesn’t get in his way to be the family heir, the way Fushiguro easily deny his bloodline of course offends him highly -- it’s almost like Fushiguro does not care about his mother’s sacrifice. 

Well, it is understandable that he deny his bloodline. Regardless that the tradition of the Three Great Families just reek of shit, Fushiguro never experiences normal blood-related family bond since he was born. Everyone who should be his family based on blood never give him the bond other people experience. His biological mother had died, his father left him (and died unknowingly), Tsumiki’s mother also left the siblings. The one who took care of him was Tsumiki and Gojo to an extent, both of whom has no blood relation to him. Gojo even bought him from the Zen’in. And the Zen’in who is supposed to be his blood-related family trade him off easily with money, so it is understandable if he does not feel a strong bond with his own bloodline. 

This is ironically (but in a positive way) very contrast with Fushiguro’s   technique; Ten shadows jutsu. One of Zen’in’s most prized inherited technique is manifested by Fushiguro who deny his blood and passed down by his father who the family refused to acknowledge as one of their own. The technique that also made Fushiguro coveted by the head family that they readily forked over 10 million for him. It’s a very ridiculous situation.    

4. Next ‘strongest sorcerer’

The growth of a jujutsushi is never easy. 

Fushiguro’s growth as a jujutsushi is a difficult matter, way more than Yuuji. Compared to Fushiguro who is already familiar with jujutsu from a very young age, Yuuji is like a child whose growth is still in exponential phase. Since his main weapon is his cursed technique, Fushiguro’s growth as the more settled jujutsushi in this case should mainly come from inside himself. But it’s been a rocky way for him.   

First, his mindset is working against his growth -- because he has Makora to rely on, he tends to summon it readily than try to explore his technique more. Then as fundamentally Fushiguro is someone compassionate, he puts cooperating and matching his level to people around him first -- which actually hindered his growth of ability, because his nature as jujutsushi is on the opposite side.  

As a jujutsushi, Fushiguro’s nature is the same as Gojo and Sukuna; a lone wolf who is the strongest on combat when he is alone. Gojo even implied once that Megumi’s cursed technique has the potential to be on par -- even beat his.

With not one, but two strongest jujutsu users invested in Fushiguro’s growth, I think it’s not an overstatement to say that he will be an incredible jujutsushi in the future -- if his growth does not fail him. And going by the current story development, it is more required out of Megumi to be stronger than ever, both as the person that he is and as jujutsushi.     

5. The future is as uncertain as ever

Now that Gojo is gone, the burden Megumi shoulders will be exponentially rising. More than to stabilize Tokyo back, it is the responsibility that he always feel over of keeping Yuuji as Sukuna’s vessel alive that probably will demand a lot out of Megumi. In addition to losing Gojo and the waking of Tsumiki as one of the Brain’s victims, Megumi needs all the strength he can muster, literally and figuratively, to be able to survive the coming of near future -- even though ironically he is one that is readily dying anytime. 

[wallwriterstuff]

Obsession ||Yandere!Alec Volturi x Female Reader|| Part 1

Warnings: Yandere!Alec, obsessive behaviour, unhealthy relationships and implied non-con later on. This is possibly one of the darkest fics I have ever written so please be aware if controlling behaviour, gaslighting etc. If this is triggering to you, do not read this fic. This and posts like this one will be tagged under dark themes so please feel free to block that tag if you do not want to see content like this in the future. 

The following link will take you to a Citizen’s Advice Page that have resources regarding Domestic abuse and violence. They detail various organisations offering support, refuge and advice for both women and men in abusive situations, however these only apply to the UK. 

https://www.citizensadvice.org.uk/family/gender-violence/domestic-violence-and-abuse-getting-help/ 

I am from the UK and therefore am not sure about what resources may be available internationally, however I know many of you are from places outwith the UK. If you have any resources you know of that would be useful or helpful to add here then please do! You can reblog this post with link in or message me a link to have me edit it into the original. I will post this link and any that get added in all three parts of this fic that I post. 

Words: 3116

Summary: A request for @tiger-khans-blog Savings your sister’s boyfriend was an act of kindness, something you had done out of the goodness of your heart, but hadn’t they always said the road to hell is paved with good intentions?  Alec is aged up to 16 in this fic.

Part 2: When You’re Lost I’ll Leave My Gaslight On 

Part 3: These Violent Delights 

It had been near constant since you’d entered the room.

His eyes were the most piercing ruby red – until they weren’t. The onyx colour had followed you ever since you’d set foot in the throne room, a sharp inhale being the extent of his communication with you. If he wasn’t so damn creepy he might have been handsome, with his shock of dark hair framing a pale face with all the sharp, angular cheekbones and jawline of a model. He was taller to, definitely taller than you by at least half a head, but his stare was piercing and completely at odds with his otherwise apathetic expression. He showed no emotion at all yet the way he looked at you…it was like the whole world revolved around you and only you. There was hunger and excitement and need and envy and a whole host of other emotions in his eyes. It had made you so uncomfortable you’d gravitated towards Alice as best you could, but the whole plan had gone out of the window when the hulking mass of muscle they called Felix started towards your sister.

Isabella Swan was two years older than yourself, but for most of your life she had been the one taking care of you. Renée hadn’t planned on having a second child but like so many other things in her life, you were a complete accident. As loving as your mother was, she wasn’t necessarily fit to take care of one child, never mind two. Bella was the one who had helped with homework, who had crawled into your bed with you when you had nightmares or were sick. To see Felix coming straight for her was like something straight out of a nightmare and you’d moved without thinking. One minute you were facing the taunting smirk of a mountain man and the next the room had blurred, and your vision was filled with the furious stare of the boy who had been watching you all day.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed. His grip on the tops of your arms tight enough to bruise. You winced, wide eyes filling with tears, and in the next second the boy had released your arms and moved to tenderly cup your face. “Shhh, shhhh sh sh, it’ll all be over soon.” He promised, thumbs stroking your cheeks while you tried to squirm out of his grip. His eyes hardened, clearly unhappy with you trying to escape him. You could only see him, his face the only thing in your vision, but you could hear what sounded like rocks colliding, granite smashing. Your body trembled, anxiety filling you up. It wasn’t clear if the boy was more upset with your trying to get out of his grip than your interference with Bella’s execution, but those coal black eyes never lost their laser focus on you.

“Alec?” the petite blonde beside him sounded thoroughly confused while you fought off a shudder. You hated how his name sounded so appealing. Everything about him was enticing, even his scent, but he terrified you beyond belief with the way he was acting.

“Is it the noise? Would you prefer not to see? To hear?” he asked. In the next second it was all gone, like the world had fallen away around you. You couldn’t see, couldn’t hear; you were left screaming in your own head with absolutely no idea if you were still in that awful, awful room or if your soul had mercifully fled your body before you could feel any pain. There was simultaneously nothing and everything, an endless abyss of silence and the imprecise, ever-shifting image of what you thought you remembered the Volturi’s throne room to look like wavering in your head.

Being left alone with your imagination was somehow worse than seeing the actual thing. In your mind Bella was torn in half, one hand stretched towards you while the other remained in Felix’s grip. Alice was trapped by Demetri, Felix holding Edward by the throat. Then the scene would shift and Bella was limp in his arms with Felix’s mouth attached to her neck, both Cullen’s dead and Alec descending on you with that insane stare of his. There were too many ways to envision what mutilation might have occurred and you were beginning to drive yourself insane with them when suddenly the darkness faded.

You blinked rapidly, unsure if what you were seeing was real since it was so blurred. A gentle hand dabbed rough wool beneath your eye and you realised the world looked so watery because you had been crying. Alec used the sleeves of his jacket to dry your tears. Bella was watching you with horror filled eyes, your trembling body almost giving way as you fought the urge to run – you were sure Alec would just drag you back. You could feel his breath on the side of your face. He clearly didn’t understand the concept of personal space.

“Mesmerising, to see what you have seen before it has happened.” Aro murmured, stroking Alice’s hand before she pulled it back with a clearly forced smile.

“But what will.” She reminded him. He clapped his hands, looking so joyful you were left utterly paralysed with confusion. Did he not understand how terrifying this all was? Had he not seen the sheer crazy that was waiting to burst forth out of the boy holding you back? His behaviour was erratic, completely at odds with the rest of the refined and well disciplined Guard. How could Aro not see?

“Yes, yes it’s quite certain, you are free to leave.” Aro informed them. Your breath escaped you in a rush and you immediately tried to dash for your sister. Bella had opened her arms straight to you and the safe haven was so close, yet so far. Alec didn’t let you take a step, hauling you back against his chest and burying his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply.

“No you don’t, I’ve waited too long.” He grumbled. You struggled frantically, the tears springing to your eyes again as Caius tried to protest his brother’s decision. You had drawn the attention of most of the Guard and the man you knew to be Marcus by now though, the brunette king looking somewhat sympathetic towards you. For a man with no respect for human life to look at you like that could most certainly not be a good thing.  

“What are you doing brother? Let the foolish thing go.” Jane said, reaching for his arm. His head snapped up, a growl rumbling through his chest into your spine. If looks could kill, you had no doubt the petite blonde would have burst into flame then and there, bursting into a thousand pieces with the intensity of the danger in his glare.

“Bella!” you whimpered. His hold was like having an iron beam wrapped around your torso, two strong arms refusing to let you move so much as an inch from his chest. It didn’t make sense, none of it did, why was he so obsessed with keeping you near? Did he want you dead? He couldn’t, he’d had plenty of chance to do so by now and hadn’t taken a single opportunity to hurt you on purpose. So what was his problem with you?  

“Alec, dear one, is something the matter?” Aro asked, eyes glistening.

“Aro.” His brother held a hand out to him and the black haired leader flashed towards him while you continued to struggle, your frustration mounting.

“Let me go!” you cried, You stomped on his foot – nothing. You threw your elbow back into his ribs – nothing except a sore elbow for you. You tried to pry his arms away from your body – nothing.

“No.” he hissed. You squeezed your eyes shut.

“Let me go! Please! Let me go!” you begged.

“I said, no.” he repeated, his voice ice cold. Your heart rabbited in your chest, the nausea in your throat rising until you were sure you were on the verge of throwing up. You could barely breathe and it wasn’t just his tight grip that was the problem. There was a panic attack looming on the horizon for you if he kept this up.

“Please, let her go, she’s done nothing wrong. Aro said we were free to go.” Bella tried. She took a step towards you and with one swift jerk he had turned his back on her. You screamed, your limbs fatigued and losing strength with every hit.

“I’m afraid young Y/N will not be going home with you,” Aro’s voice was soft, “To separate them would clearly only cause harm. Alec cannot leave his mate.” You froze in his grip, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket as you lip trembled. Mate? Mate? What the hell did that even mean? Animals mated, not humans! Was that what he was implying? The boy was so horny for you he wouldn’t let you leave? The fear that gripped you was utterly paralysing as you thought of a thousand different scenarios that made you want to be utterly sick with the horror of them; your choices taken from you, your voice inconsequential as he did things to you you never consented to.

“She’s my sister! Please, I’ve looked after her since she was born, you can’t just-“

“And from this day forth she’ll be looked after by me. She is mine.” Alec snarled quietly. He didn’t seem to notice you’d gone completely rigid in his grip.

“Alec her father will be devastated, she hasn’t even finished school, if you keep her here you’ll just make her unhappy.” Edward tried to reason with him, but he merely tightened his grip on you. You cried out, a sharp pain ripping through your midriff as he almost choked the life from you. The blonde-haired Guard appeared in your line of sight then, his expression somewhat concerned as you struggled to force air into your lungs. If Alec could hear you rasping for air he didn’t show it.

“Alec, old friend look at her,” he coaxed. Alec had done plenty of looking at you, you didn’t want him to look anymore. You shied away from his gaze, head ducking and hair falling between you. Shuddering gasps escaped you as your heart began to roar in your ears, a sure sign there wasn’t enough oxygen getting into your lungs. One arm moved from around your waist but you were too scared to move away from him now, his freezing cold fingers gently brushing your hair back. You flinched.

“She’s mine, Demetri.” He insisted, frowning like a petulant child who was being threatened with their favourite toy being taken from them. Demetri nodded his head.

“She is, and yet she flinches from you. You are scaring her Alec, and she will most definitely bruise if you keep holding her so tight, that’s I she doesn’t suffocate first. Do you want that for your mate? Do you wish to hurt her? To make her fear you?” he questioned. Alec gave a soft wince, immediately loosening his grip.

“I’ve hurt you?” he asked, looking a lot like a wounded puppy now. You swallowed past the lump in your throat, not trusting your voice to remain steady and simply nodding in response. His eyes were still wide with conflicting emotion, but Demetri seemed to be getting through to him at least. You were grateful, and pleaded with your eyes for the man to keep going.

“You cannot simply claim her Alec, she is so young still, would you not prefer her to live a full life and come to you willingly?” Demetri wondered. You felt your stomach drop as Alec’s expression hardened.

“You’re trying to take her from me to.” he growled.

“Alec you are-“

“She, is, not, leaving!” he snarled, a sea of black exploding around him. Your eyes widened, a cool mist swirling about your legs as you finally managed to stumble away from him. Only Bella was still standing, the others having crumpled to the floor until only he, you and Bella remained conscious.

“Y/N!” she cried out. He didn’t stop you running to her this time. You stumbled into her arms, sobbing and shaking. She held you tight to her, her fingers pressing harshly into her skin. It felt like butterfly wings caressing your flesh compared to Alec’s vice like grip. “It’s okay, we’ll figure this out, it’ll be okay, you just have to-“

“Make this quick, say goodbye to your sister. That’s what you want isn’t it? A proper goodbye?” Alec asked, mist still pouring from his hands as his black eyes followed your every move. You shook your head frantically.

“I don’t want to say goodbye, I want to go home! Let me go home!” you begged. Alec hissed.

“What don’t you understand? You are my mate! I’ve waited a thousand years for you, you are mine and you cannot walk away from me!” he snapped. Bella tried to hush you, stroking your hair gently as you collapsed into her.

“Please don’t let him keep me here.” You cried. Bella remained silent, horribly, startlingly silent. Her hands shook as she held you close. Alec approached you, the mist seemingly absorbing back into his body as he walked. The room was in an uproar as soon as everyone was on their feet again, Felix and Demetri forcing him to his knees with furious expressions. He still never took his eyes off of you, his expression devoid of any and all emotion suddenly.

“Are you insane Alec? Using your gift on us? We’re trying to help you!”

“How could you brother? You broke our promise and for a human no less!”

“What insolence is this? Need we remind you of your place boy!”

Alec didn’t respond to any of the accusations, his neck straining so he could keep his eyes on you. Aro only had to touch his hand to know his intentions for you, but you didn’t dare look anymore, choosing instead to bury your face in your sister’s neck as you struggled to calm your breathing and sobbing.

“I would advise you leave now.” Felix huffed.

“We can’t,” Edward’s voice was quiet, apologetic, “Y/N, if we take you, he’ll destroy us all.” Your chest constricted, you felt like you could barely breathe as a lead weight settled in your gut. Destroy them? Alec was a killer, if the red eyes hadn’t told you so then his actions just now had. It wasn’t difficult at all to believe he’d go so far as to kill anyone who stood between you both, but what hurt even more was that you didn’t trust him to be good to you if you stayed either. Why did it have to be you? You’d come to Volterra to do something good, to save someone’s life! So why were you losing yours?

“You ought think on your actions Alec, your mate will be here waiting for you, but for now you need some time to reflect on your position. I think two weeks in the dungeons ought to suffice.” Aro’s voice was ice cold, his fury obvious. Clearly, he had never thought one of his own guard would dare use his powers against him.

“You monster! You fucking monster! Edward I can’t leave her here, she’s my baby sister!” Bella protested. You tightened your grip on her shirt, eyes itchy red and cheeks wet as the terrible weight of hopelessness sank down on your chest. There was no way out. Even if they had tricked Alec and let you leave what then? Did you run from him for the rest of your life? Did you just wait for him to find you? Maybe the dungeon might mellow him out some? It was a bit of a relief really, when the stress just shut your brain and body down, even if the moment of relief was as brief as blinking.

You could almost pretend nothing had ever happened, that perhaps you were at home, as your consciousness dripped back into you. You were on soft sheets, your pillow cradling your head, and you wanted to just burrow away in them. The only thing was, you could feel sunlight warming your skin, and that addictive, woodsy smell was not the lavender your laundry usually came out smelling like. You felt awfully nauseous for a moment when you opened your eyes, your body readjusting to having your brain in control once more, but the red eyes that met yours were far kinder this time than Alec’s aggressively territorial stare. The chestnut brown hair and angular face was familiar to you, and you warily sat up to lean back against the headboard. Demetri let you put the distance between you with an aura of calm that tempted you to relax to. He was alone, no Felix or Jane by his side, but that didn’t mean he was any less dangerous.

“Where’s Bella?” you whispered. She had to be somewhere nearby. Maybe she was in the bathroom? Or had gone to find food and drink? How long had you even been out? Whose room was this?

“She and the Cullen’s departed for their return flight to America not an hour ago.” Demetri informed you. Your stomach dropped, your nausea rising and face paling.

“No…no she – she didn’t leave me here, she didn’t….you’re lying!” Knees curling to your chest, you gripped tightly at your jeans until your knuckles turned as white as your face.

“Not without protest,” he assured you, his voice softer now with sympathy, “But it seems Alec has become unpredictable. His reaction to the mate pull unnerved us all, you are not alone in your fear, though perhaps we fear different things.” His voice was soothing in a way not much else to you was right now. Thoughts swirled in your mind, the bitterness at your abandonment only outweighed by terror at being left behind.

“What is he going to do to me?” you asked, your voice barely more audible than a whisper. Demetri’s head tilted.

“And that is why I am afraid…I truly cannot tell you.” He murmured. He didn’t exactly comfort you when the tears came again, your eyes beyond irritated with all the crying you’d done today, but he didn’t stop you from letting your emotions run away from you instead. He remained close enough to remind you you weren’t alone, but Demetri didn’t hold you as Bella would, or stroke your hair or do anything remotely soothing. His greatest gift to you in that moment was to simply let you be human.

You didn’t know how long that would last.

[anthrcpophagi]

Maren hates how vividly she remembers that day, even though it felt like a lifetime ago. If she closed her eyes, she could still taste the saltiness of his fingers, the dirt under his nails. If she focused enough she could still smell his sweat, his anger, his fear. He didn’t even taste good, but Maren would’ve gobbled him up whole if she’d known the extent of the damage he’d caused. She wasn’t too sure where the old man was now, whether he was rotting away in a jail cell or six feet below the dirt, but it didn’t matter. As long as he wasn’t hurting anyone.

"I just know." She shrugged. Women's intuition, she wants to say, but it's something more than that. Rodrick had always been nice to her, even when she hadn’t deserved it. Everyone at the church had been nice to her at first—before her incident, which caused the others to stare at her like a wild animal— but they were always less welcoming to her Mama.

Maren didn’t understand it at the time but it made sense in retrospect. Being a single mother made her Mama a target for criticism. It must've been her fault that she couldn't keep a man, or that she couldn't raise a well-behaved child. But it wasn’t her fault that her husband left. He'd unknowingly chosen to live the rest of his days in a drugged stupor while men in scrubs dabbed the drool away from his lips. He’d left to save his family, to spare them the pain that Maren had ended up causing instead. Janelle had only done what she’d thought was best in the end, but the people at the parish always assumed they knew better.

“No one ever thinks their Mama or Daddy are bad. It’s not in our DNA.” She remembers reading about certain species where the mothers eat their young. Whether it's because they're sick or mutated, or simply because the mother was hungry. Would life have been better if Mama had eaten her instead? Even after everything her mother put her through, Maren can’t find it in her to hate. Mama did her best. She was a young mother, a single mother to a monstrous spawn, destined to become just like her father. She’d given Maren too many second chances before it was too late, and in the end, there was no one for her to blame but herself. “Although, to be fair, I’ve only ever met my Dad once. And it wasn’t exactly what I’d hoped.”

Growing up, Maren never really thought about how broken her family was. Of course she realized that she was different than other kids. Her family wasn’t nuclear. She didn't have both parents and a sibling to even the scales, but it felt normal enough. They went to bookstores on the weekends and grocery shopping on Wednesdays, after her mother received her paycheck. Nights were quiet most of the time. Quiet enough that sometimes, if Maren listened closely enough, she could hear her Mama, curled up on the couch, sobbing with a cigarette in hand.

It wasn’t until after her mom left that she took the time to imagine what her father might be like. His existence had always been an empty space in her mind, a dad-shaped hole with no identifiable features. She knew she must look at least a little like him, her skin tone an equal mix of Mama's Irish descent and wherever her dad was from. When she saw his name scribbled on her birth certificate, it spawned possibilities. Unfortunately, the Frank Yearly that her mother had once loved and married was dead and the Frank Yearly that existed for a short time in Marne's mind dissipated like smoke. Instead, he was just a shell of a man, nothing but shrapnel and rubble.

“He didn’t even taste good." She adds, a small twitch in the corner of her mouth. "The communion wafers tasted better.”

she couldn't know just how violently maren's incident turned rodrick's world on it's head. he doesn't want her to know, she didn't deserve the aftermath; still doesn't. if he could take it from her, unburden her of her shroud, he would. but as they sit across from one another, older (though no less the children they once were) rodrick can only stare at her.

“ how - ” eyebrows furrow. rodrick shifts in his chair, leaning forward. knees to thighs. “ until he hurt you, maren, i ain't ever thought my daddy was bad. ” lips are wetted, preparing to speak but when he tries again, mouth agape, nothing comes. the silence grows.

“ how could you know ? ”

[dennou-translations]

Violet Evergarden Booklet 1

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Index || Next →

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

   Ann Magnolia and Her Nineteenth Birthday

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

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

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

——I’m happy.

Very happy.

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

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

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

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

“Good morning, Ann.”

——Good morning.

“Today is a special day, huh.”

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

“Your long-awaited birthday.”

With a nod, I stood up.

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

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

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

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

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

I would end up embracing such fantasies.

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

Of course, it was just a fabrication.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’ll surely be coming soon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——What was it that I liked about her?

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

“Fufu...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   “Delivery.”

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

“Yes, I’m coming.”

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

——It wasn’t the CH Postal Company.

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

“Thank you very much.”

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

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

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

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

——Family... family... family, huh?

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

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

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

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

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

I brought my consciousness back to reality.

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

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

“Ann.”

——Aah, but was it a pretty stationery?

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

“Ann, listen.”

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

“Please listen.”

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

Nevertheless, I couldn’t move.

“Ann.”

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

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

“Ann... it’s okay.”

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

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

“Ann, it’s okay.”

Today was that kind of day.

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

——I’m sorry.

“Sorry...”

——I’m sorry.

“Ann, I’m sorry...”

To me, my birthday was...

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

...not my day. It was my mother’s.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A birthday was a special day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m lonely”, that is.

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

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

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

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

“I have to get up.”

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

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

“Madam Magnolia, are you home?”

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

“Hum?”

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

“Aah, excuse me. Please go first.”

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

Had he mistaken the appointment day?

“Erm, then...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m taking it.”

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

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

“Eh, no, no.”

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

“Hello.”

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

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

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

“Ah, all right.”

“And here too.”

“I’m sorry. I was making sweets...”

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

“Well, what is your matter...?”

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

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

——“Nearby”?

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

Silence.

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

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

“I take it back.”

“All right.”

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

“Haah...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——Anyway, I have to say something.

“Hum.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ann, can you hear me?”

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

“Ann, please, listen.”

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

“Okay? If you’re listening...”

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

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

“If you’re listening, grab onto it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—From Mom

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

[stories-by-rie]

Chapter 5 - Heart of Silver

In the present, still in the dead granny’s house, Evelyn and Ariel search the cellar for clues and slowly start to understand the curse better.

words: 2614 || masterlist

The air in the cellar was strangely musky. From all the dust and cobwebs, it was clear that the old granny hadn’t gone down into the cellar for any longer than she had avoided going upstairs. It was hard to breathe, probably due to mold growing on the walls, mold they couldn’t see because none of the lamps were working.

    “This feels like a deliberate attack on my person. That old lady knew I was going to end up here with the uneasiness that creeps over me in the darkness. Disgusting.” Ariel had flipped their phone open but it was only a little light to help them see. Evelyn had turned on the flash-light on her phone, but the battery icon was blinking red already, so it was only of little help for the time being.

    No new notifications.

    With the sparse light of their phones, even combined, it was hard to make anything out in the cramped place. Whatever use the four rooms must have had, they all seemed to be storerooms now. It was impossible to make out every single detail, but the amount of Easter rabbit decorations was concerning, to say the least.

    “Maybe she was really into bunnies. I, personally, would never judge anyone for what they collect.” Ariel put their hand down on a pink rabbit with fake feathers on its neck.

    “As you shouldn’t,” Evelyn replied at the thought of the amount of- well, everything in their flat.

    It wasn’t just tasteless holiday decoration, though. From the little that was recognizable, they could find dysfunctional vacuum cleaners, stacks of old garden magazines and old workout gear.

    “Was that granny ripped?” Ariel asked at the sight of an old ergometer.

    “She was a granny!” Evelyn said and shook her head, both as an answer and as a general reaction to Ariel.

    “Old people can work-out too, Evelyn! Oh, look! A cursed mirror!” they exclaimed and jumped into a corner where a big wall mirror hung. Evelyn could hardly follow their words, least of all their movements in the dark space. 

    So she just reacted and yelled, “Don’t touch it!” -- idiotically, of course. Because Ariel was a curse broker and knew not to touch cursed objects, and also they weren’t a child and Evelyn not their mother. For some reason, despite those three facts, Ariel still touched it.

    “No worries, no worries. This one only activates on full moons. You can see it on the symbol in the corner, see?” They held their phone so that Evelyn could just make out some lines that had to be the symbol Ariel had spoken about. She didn’t understand them, it was not her forte after all, and she was too pumped on stress and anxiety to really care.

    “Yes. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you. I’m a bit on edge and-”

    “No need to apologize. Thank you, for looking out for me,” Ariel replied with their soft voice that felt so much more stern than any other. Evelyn couldn’t help but believe them. She smiled, forced but in a way that would have been honest, had her emotional state allowed her as much.

    Ariel’s eyes widened. First horror, then understanding, and then excitement ran over their face, leaving them with a crooked grin.

    “What-” As Evelyn turned around, the white light of her flash-light hit a high figure, a dusty blanket covering it completely. The fabric’s folds gave the hint of a human statue, enough to let Evelyn’s blood run cold. For some reason, she didn’t have to uncover it to know what was beneath it. In the end, it was Ariel who clenched their fist around a drape, hesitating despite their obvious curiosity. With a flick of their hand, the fabric slid off the statue, their lights letting the heavy dust shimmer in the darkness; then reflecting off the silver boy in front of them.

    In contrast to the pictures Evelyn had seen in Ariel’s books, this boy looked nearly calm. Maybe there was some sadness in his eyes that could not compare with the smile on his lips. He looked nearly peaceful.

    “That would explain why she seemed so invested in curses and the supernatural,” Evelyn whispered, not trusting her own voice to speak louder. “I think it might be the ghost I saw in the study before.”

“Seems very likely, I agree,” Ariel said.

 It was hard to bring the chaos in her head to a stop, to grasp a single thought. When she was eventually successful, the only thing she could fathom was the feeling of hope. If this kid had looked content in his death, then maybe it would not hurt after all. If it wasn’t as painful as previous pictures had made it look, then maybe she would manage that part.

    “This child got hit by it quite young. All this time the fork was the curse medium and they did nothing about it? This case never made it to the books, I really wonder why?” Ariel mumbled and as they stepped closer to look at the kid better, Evelyn’s phone battery gave a last warning sound and then died in her hands.

    Ariel gave a huffed sigh of annoyance and held up their old phone closer, even if the light was multiple times worse, not to say completely useless.

    “Maybe it was her son? If she had told the authorities about it, his body would have been taken away, no? With such a high ranking curse, it would have.”

    “No one is allowed to take a cursed body away, even if it’s a high-ranking curse,” Ariel corrected, and then, quieter, added, “Though, of course, just because authorities aren’t allowed doesn’t mean that they don’t do it.”

    “Mother could not bear to part with me,” a thin voice behind them said and as they turned around, the boy from before stood right in front of them again.

    His next words were hard to hear over the loudly pounding heart in Evelyn’s chest, “No curse-broker wanted to take my case, they said it would be hopeless. There were more urgent ones.”

    In the near total darkness, his shape looked much more solid than most ghosts Evelyn had seen before, the faint shimmer of death old, the ash to his feet already thick. Probably subconsciously, Ariel stepped a bit closer to her, took their glasses off.

    “Do you know how to break the curse?” Evelyn had the mind to ask, not that it was really her decision, but at least the question was put out there. Yet, the ghost did not answer.

    “My mother tried so hard to save me. But the curse moved too quickly. I was gone within three days.”

    Evelyn could not gasp or cry. She just stared at the teenager, the hollow thing that was left of him, and listened to the words that promised her doom, to the constant trickle of the ash at his feet. Only distantly, she heard Ariel typing on their phone furiously.

    “What cursed you?” Ariel then asked, looking up from behind their phone.

    “I wish I would have had a few more days. Maybe one day would have made a difference.”

    “Have you gained insight of the curse through your death?” Ariel pressed again while Evelyn could only stare at the flimsy figure.

    “I think I will go soon. Mother has been gone for so many days now. I am all alone.”

    “Why aren’t you answering my questions? What’s wrong with you?” Ariel did not yell, Evelyn was certain they never did. But at this moment they seemed as close to it as possible. Still, the ghost looked completely out of it, staring between their heads at his own silver statue.

    “I am very tired. I think I really want to go now.”

    “It’s fine. You can rest now,” Evelyn said with nearly no voice at all, and carefully put her fingers down to his forehead. A human touch, to remind him of death. Under it, he crumbled. In a matter of seconds, all that was left of him was ghostly ash (not real ash at all), that seemingly fell through the ground – or perhaps became one with it. Soon, she might find out as well.

    “What the fuck, Evelyn?” There was even more anger in Ariel’s voice now, “This was our one chance to get answers to save your life and you just sent him off? He might have said something useful! Now we’re back at nothing!”

    Only then, Evelyn truly realized the extent of her actions. Sorry, however, she was not. 

    “You know that there was no information about the curse we could have gotten from him. He was already way too far gone, I have seen it often enough. If you had continued questioning him, then all we would have achieved is to torture him in this loneliness. It might have driven him even more insane, nothing else.”

    There was just another curse for an answer, and then they turned around and stalked out of the cellar, as well as that was possible. Some items toppled down their stacks, and just as clumsily, Evelyn followed. It was not until they returned to the ground floor, that Ariel stopped.

    “I really dislike darkness. I can’t see when it is completely dark,” they said, as if they needed some sort of explanation to walk out on Evelyn after such a disaster.

    “It’s fine. There was nothing more we could have found down there.”

    “How late is it?” Ariel asked, only to check on their own phone. “Nearly two am,” they muttered and then looked around the floor to the entry door.

    “We can go if you don’t need to look around any further,” Evelyn suggested. Even if the prospect of leaving alone made her anxious. If there were any clues to a cure, wouldn’t it be here? Shouldn’t they stay until they found something – or at least searched everything until they could be certain that there was nothing to be found? If the boy had died within three days, then she only had two more days to live as well. Could a curse even be dealt with so quickly? Even if it was Ariel who worked on it. Really, the best would be if she just would get her affairs in order and-

    She reached for her phone, forgetting that it had died. There wouldn’t be anything new anyway.

    “Well, we still haven’t found out what caused the noises before. Not that I have a great desire to do so. But even if we don’t keep looking for it, we should stay a bit longer.” Ariel turned to her with a look that was impossible for Evelyn to read. It could not be a good look. She wanted to ask about the implications, but her breath came too fast and too shallow to really form words in her mouth. “That’s the point where we tackle more drastic measures. I do have some nolly-powder with me, so if you happen to have some face masks, we could give in and try the powder search to find the medium’s traces?” The longer they talked and stared at Evelyn, though, the more the furrow between their eyebrows increased. “Evelyn? Are you o-” They stopped short.

    Evelyn wanted to reply that she was not really that okay, that it got hard to breathe and, if she really listened to her own body, that she felt like the silver was weighing her down so much that taking another step seemed just impossible.

    But what she eventually said was, “I have face-masks in my car.”

    Ariel eyed her with a suspicious look, but whatever they were thinking did not make it out of their mouth, so Evelyn decided to ignore it.

    Rain dripped down, even if just lightly now, and it still coated Evelyn’s skin in a thin veil. If she turned into a silver statue outside, rain would probably make louder dripping sounds on her body. In winter, the snow and rain would drape her in a layer of ice. Like a true piece of art. 

    With shaking fingers, she got the face-masks out of the glove compartment and walked back inside where Ariel was working on plastic bags with their powders. For a while they worked in silence. She handed them a mask, put her own on too and watched as Ariel committed to the chemistry before them in ways that simply were beyond her. For all the caffeine they ingested at most random times, they had incredibly steady hands. With those steady hands they kept at it until a dark red light glowed up for a few seconds.

    “So, in the worst case, which also might be the best case, this powder will tell us for once and all what the curse medium is. Except for about seven percent of the cases where nolly-powder doesn’t work, then we will be absolutely fucked.”

    “Let’s just do this,” Evelyn muttered and gave them a nod.

    With a sigh they filled the powder in their hands and then simply threw it up into the air. As if out of nowhere, wind twirled it through the whole floor, let the particles dance in their search for something to hold on to. It could have barely been a minute. Short enough for Evelyn to hold her breath and wait with tension in her shoulders.

    Then, all at once, the powder turned, nearly grew in its ferocity, and shot straight at her. Before it could wrap around her completely, though, Ariel gave a sharp order that cut right through it. At once, it dropped down to the ground, mingled with the dust of time and ghosts.

    “Are you okay?” they yelled once they reached her, a hand reaching out for her arm before they thought better of it.

    Evelyn was shaken by sneezes and didn’t even manage a gesture.

    “This horrid sneezing. I am so sorry. It’s really so pesky. People are working on a better powder if that helps? Let’s get you out of here, okay? I will fix you a cup of tea to rinse most of it out-” A sneeze broke them off, and a single touch made them freeze. Evelyn followed their gaze down to where they had reached out for her hand, and only found silver.

    To her great dismay, time did not stand still. Even if she stared at it so still as if a statue already, she could clearly follow the silver spreading. Along with it, her heartbeat increased as panic kicked in. Evelyn looked up as Ariel’s hand travelled up her arm where she could still feel their skin and warmth.

    “I can only imagine how it feels. But I do know that it is not yet too late. Let me fix you.”

    Tears came hot in her eyes, her throat aching once she spoke, “Please. Help me? I really don’t want to die yet.”

    Ariel smirked and pointed towards the door. They sneezed a few times. “Of course I will! I’m really looking forward to being the greatest curse-broker of this century. Nonsense! The greatest curse-broker to have ever been and ever will be. You’ll see how quickly you’ll be rid of this curse. But first I will make you drink copious amounts of nettle tea to- oh shit. I am out of nettle tea.” They sneezed.

    “I have nettle tea at home,” Evelyn pushed out between multiple sneezes.

previous chapter || WIP intro || masterlist || next chapter

    “That’s good. Then your place first. But I am driving.” Ariel held out their hand for the key, and considering how weak Evelyn was in her knees, the matter left no room for protest.

_____

[joshjacksons]

Joshua Jackson interview with “Irish Independent”

It was during a childhood visit to his granny’s house in Dublin’s Ballyfermot that Joshua Jackson smoked his first cigarette.

“My memories of those visits to Ballyfermot are quite sweet really,” the Dawson’s Creek actor recalls. “I was always running around with the neighbourhood kids, getting into trouble. Not bad trouble, just little-kid trouble. Although, technically it’s where I smoked my first cigarette, so that in itself isn’t the sweetest memory.”

Jackson’s handsome face surges with deep laughter lines and quiet dimples at the mention of mum Fiona’s home turf. “She might prefer I’d say she was from Chapelizod”, he jokes, before proudly pinning his mum’s allegiance to “Ballyer”.

Was the young Canadian treated like a shiny, exotic object by the local kids? “I was a bit, but I became less exotic the older I got. Culturally, I was so far away from an Irish kid but in a little pack of children, everyone finds their level. It also helped that I had my own cousins, my own blood, around with us. I had that family connection so I never felt too exoticised.”

An entry on his IMDb profile suggests his late grandparents Rosemary and Patrick were opera singers in Dublin, indicating that performance runs in the genes. The actor seems unaware. “Mum tells me they used to sing to each other a lot. My grandparents lived in council housing with a little kitchen out the back, garden right outside, and they would sing to each other through the window as he was out pottering about while she was cooking.

“But he was known more as a snooker shark around Ballyfermot. And my grandmother, she was known as a sainted mother of seven.”

Having welcomed his first child, Janie, with his wife, the actor Jodie Turner-Smith, last year, it’s obvious family is paramount for 43-year-old Jackson, as he Zoom-calls from a rich hotel suite with dark wallpaper and plump cushions in the background. It stems from an evident bond with his mum, whose presence lovingly peppers our conversation. Just 16 when she left Dublin, Fiona Jackson travelled through Paris, Amsterdam and Geneva before embracing the vibrancy of London’s Swinging Sixties and ultimately making for Vancouver in her early twenties.

In an entry on her blog, she speaks of falling for “the spectacular beauty of snow-capped mountains and the Pacific Ocean” and ultimately scoring an entry-level position at a Canadian talent agency. It led to a career as a successful casting agent, working on film classics including Carnal Knowledge with Jack Nicholson and McCabe & Mrs Miller with Warren Beatty and Julie Christie.

She met and married Joshua’s father, John Carter, and the young family moved to Los Angeles. Sister Aisleagh was born shortly before John walked out on the family, leaving a profound effect.

“My father, unfortunately, was not a good father or husband and exited the scene,” the actor disclosed last year, before adding it’s something he “will never get over”.

Young infants in tow, Fiona returned to Vancouver and, having found early success in casting, helped contribute to the foundation of the burgeoning “Hollywood North” industry on the Canadian west coast.

Accompanying his mum on set, young Joshua’s interests were piqued. “She introduced me to this world and saw from a young age that I enjoyed performing in a way that kids do. She allowed me the opportunity to step into her work world, but it was also very clear that it was work.”

He appeared as an extra on MacGyver and as a child actor’s double in The Fly II, and Fiona could see her son’s talent and genuine desire to impress. So she allowed him to audition. However, permission came with strict caveats.

“I don’t think my mum would have ever put me anywhere near the entertainment industry if I didn’t have something to offer to it. And not just for myself; she’s a prideful woman and didn’t want to be embarrassed by her kid.”

Casting 1991 melodrama Crooked Hearts with ER’s Noah Wyle, Fiona gave Joshua a chance to shine. Impressing the filmmakers, the then-12-year-old secured the part, setting him not only on a path to stardom but away from the troubles of his teen years.

“My mother gave me the guard rails I needed at that time and also recognised, being a working single mum and with me a young boy, transitioning into a teenager, I needed structure in my life. I needed something that I was passionate about and had a respect for, because I was kind of a typical teenage disaster.

“I look back on those times in my life and the two parallel tracks I was running on. On the one hand, getting into all sorts of trouble and, on the other hand, my professional life, where I showed up and learned my lines and did my job in order to be respected by the adults I was around. If I hadn’t had that professional side of my life, the other side would have taken over, and Mum saw that. Who knows where I would have ended up?”

So Jackson was a full-on teen delinquent? “Yeah, I was, to a certain extent. It was relatively innocent — nobody died — but I was a teenage boy who didn’t have a father in the home, didn’t have a man to be scared of, frankly, and as a teenage boy, I think that helps. My mum had to work and she wasn’t always in the house so I learned to get into more and more trouble. I got into just enough trouble to have a good time and learn some lessons but if I hadn’t had my work life, I might have tipped over into the kind of trouble that you don’t come back from.”

Three decades in and Jackson remains one of the hardest-working, most recognisable actors in the game. Hitting pay dirt at 18 as Dawson’s Creek’s Pacey Witter — the wisecracking, teacher-bedding antithesis to James Van Der Beek’s beleaguered titular drip — the actor was a revelation: the soul and bite of a seasoned character performer in the guise of relatable poster-boy idol.

Teens swooned, so did the industry, and alongside Van Der Beek, Michelle Williams and Katie Holmes, Jackson had Hollywood at his feet.

A string of popcorn offerings followed — Cruel Intentions, Gossip, Shutter, Cursed — some quality, others derivative, with the small screen ultimately best utilising his skills. A five-season run on sci-fi series Fringe was followed by an outstanding turn on Showtime’s The Affair. Last year, he maintained a brooding presence opposite Reese Witherspoon and Kerry Washington in Little Fires Everywhere. And this year, he takes on arguably his darkest work yet in Dr Death.

The new miniseries is based on the non-fiction podcast of the same name, and Jackson portrays Christopher Duntsch, a former spinal surgeon who maimed 33 patients owing to gross malpractice while operating in hospitals in Dallas and Fort Worth, Texas. Two of these patients lost their lives. Convicted in 2017, Duntsch is currently in prison and serving life imprisonment. He still maintains his innocence, with his defence arguing that he was merely a bad surgeon, not a criminal.

Exuding a simmering malevolence, the actor showcases Duntsch’s disturbing complexities and terrifying behaviour as a narcissist and sociopath with a keen insight. Did Jackson meet with Duntsch? “I wanted to, but that was going to be really difficult because he’s appealing his case and his lawyers would’ve advised against it. And as I got deeper into the materials and podcast, and got a better understanding of the man, I don’t think it would’ve helped because he still really believes he’s the victim of his own patients, and the lawyers and the legal system. I’m not sure asking a liar for the truth gets you any closer to the truth.”

When it came to the victims, Jackson wanted to maintain a respectful distance. “I didn’t need to drag them through those awful memories again and I’m always a little dubious about asking people to delve into the worst moments of their life just to satisfy my curiosity. The questions had already been asked thanks to the podcast.”

Dr Death came at the right time in the actor’s life. New baby daughter Janie offered a crucial respite from the intense, and often dark, six-month foray into Duntsch’s malignant psyche.

“Inhabiting Mr Duntsch was an ugly space to live in for six months. If I’d been coming home to an empty house every night, it would have been a pretty bleak existence. It was so much better to come back to a loving home. My one-year-old doesn’t give a damn what I was doing that day. She just wants to be loved and hugged and cuddled, and it was the perfect antidote when some days were particularly heavy.”

Recently Jackson confessed that the Dawson’s Creek cast won’t be returning for a retrospective reunion like the Friends stars did earlier this year. “If you put our mid-forties selves together on a couch now, with our creaking backs, it might shock people.”

Quizzed on an actual reboot of the drama, Joshua reckons he’s simply too old to replicate the iconic rapid exchanges of dialogue between the garrulous young characters. “We were like The West Wing for teenagers,” he laughs, referencing Aaron Sorkin’s hit political TV series, also infamous for speedy script delivery. “My 43-year-old brain couldn’t do a show at that pace. Back then, we were doing seven, 10 pages a day and, to deliver dialogue at that speed, you have to have a certain mental capacity for that, and I don’t have it anymore. That’s the real reason why we’re not doing a reunion — I’ve become too dumb to keep up with that script.”

He remains in touch with his DC co-stars, including Holmes, his one-time girlfriend of two years. There’s even a text chain. “It goes through spurts every once in a while. I’ll have a bunch of messages on it and then it’ll go dormant. We’re like college friends — there are moments we’re all in contact and then long, fallow periods as we get on with our lives.”

While maintaining a busy slate, Jackson’s overwhelming purpose continues to circle the women in his life. Turner-Smith is currently shooting a new movie with Adam Driver and Greta Gerwig, so he’s assuming full-time dad duties. It’s an equitable arrangement given the flexible needs of their individual commitments, and one he appears content with.